Sleeping soundly despite controversial actions: An examination of Netanyahu's tranquility.
October 7th's anniversary would perpetually be a source of immense sadness. It's clear as day. Yet, Israel is on the brink of disintegration due to Prime Minister Netanyahu's reluctance to rescue the hostages held by Hamas. The country hardly deserves this, especially the courageous survivors of terror attacks.
On this fateful October 7th, Irit Lahav and her daughter seek refuge in their Kibbutz Nir Oz shelter. They believe the chaos outside is just a routine air raid, a familiar rocket attack from Gaza. However, an unexpected accompaniment joins the fray - automatic gunfire, grenade explosions, tank shells. Voices echo, speaking Arabic.
For the ensuing 12 hours, there's no moment free from gunfire and explosions. Irit and her daughter remain obediently mute. No one must know they're hiding inside. Irit crafts a makeshift security device from a boat pole and vacuum cleaner parts, her shivering hands struggling to remain steady.
Irit is convinced the door won't hold. So, she silently amasses books from the shelf, creates a barricade in front of the door. "This way, we won't be killed, only wounded," she averts thoughts of despair. "USeless," her daughter mutters. "We will die." The first book Irit picks is a non-fiction account of the Nazi era. She displays it to her daughter, whispering, "I hope Hitler saves us this time."
As Irit narrates her harrowing tale, one can't help but picture herself sharing the same dark, suffocating space. Outside, terrorists rampage from house to house. They attempt to break into the shelter five times, rapping, battering at the door, only to losen interest. The final assault is at five in the afternoon.
Irit felt "betrayed" during those 12 hours in hiding. Abandoned by her country, nearly sacrificing her soldiers. And Irit Lahav still feels betrayed. She, who demonstrated extraordinary courage and tenacity in the face of adversity, reaches her limit at the thought of 101 hostages still in Hamas' captivity. "For you, they're names and photographs," she addresses her audience. "For me, they're some of my closest friends. Parents of my friends. Children of my friends. I recognize their voices."
Since then, Irit channels her courage and tenacity to campaign for a hostage exchange with Hamas, as have many other Israelis for 365 days. A segment of the 10-million population that has never ceased to protest in Germany, demanding freedom for the captives.
They all feel betrayed by their government, and their resentment isn't waning. Thirteen years ago, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu worked tirelessly to obtain a deal to release a single Israeli prisoner from Hamas' grasp. In return, 1027 Palestinian prisoners were freed. Now, with 101 people in the terrorists' hands, Netanyahu appears to be actively impeding a deal with Hamas. He's watching his country crumble.
He always presents reasonable arguments - whether political or military in nature, they are all discredited. Yet, they matter because for the Israeli government, the lives of the 101 captives, allegedly tortured, raped in Gaza's underground tunnels, seem to carry less weight than their own power retention.
Because Irit Lahav thinks about her kidnapped neighbours often, she frequently lies awake at night. A friend of Irit has already buried her own son, killed by Hamas. Her daughter is being held captive in Gaza. "She can't sleep or eat," Irit describes her friend's state. And anyone who hears this knows that the life of this mother can be encapsulated in a single word: unbearable. That Benjamin Netanyahu manages to sleep at night is incomprehensible.
Despite the constant threatening sounds outside, Irit and her daughter endure the pain of their confined shelter, hoping for a peaceful resolution. However, the pain of betrayal lingers within Irit, as she believes her country and its leaders have failed to prioritize the release of the hostages.
The persistent struggle for the hostages' freedom causes anguish for many Israelis, including Irit. The pain of separation and uncertainty is palpable, especially for those who have lost loved ones or have family members still captive in Gaza.
