Everything changed for me on October 7. Surprisingly even more so than when we
experienced the horrific terrorist attack on September 11, 2001. As with most
people, I remember exactly where I was when I first heard news of the mid-air
strike of the World Trade Center, and watched with utter disbelief as news
outlets showed real-time footage of the second strike as well as the complete
collapse of both buildings. The entire nation was alarmed by the images of
people running for their lives and of people running to protect lives. Never in
my lifetime had I ever witnessed such brutality and disregard for human life,
and as I watched, I prayed to god that we would never expect too again. On
September 12th, 2001, the citizens of this country became one. We were horrified
by the atrocities and yet we were unified because of them. We were bonded by the
collective loss of innocent lives as well as by our collective sense of
patriotism. It was an attack, with unprecedented consequences, against the
United States. But unlike the relatively isolated surprise attack on Pearl
Harbor, which September 11 has been systemically compared to, September 11th’s
attacks were intentional assaults against innocent civilians while the world
watched it unfold in real time. Similar to our nation’s response to the attack
on Pearl Harbor, our response to the evil of 9/11 was one of solidarity, but not
just solidarity within our country’s borders, but from world leaders as best
exemplified by the French newspaper, Le Monde’s headline, “We are all Americans now.” And for the first time in its history, NATO invoked Article 5, whereby an
armed attack against one nation is an attack against all, allowing its members
to respond collectively in self-defense. We were not alone and our battle for
self-preservation became the world’s battle. Much like September 11, the
terrorist attacks by Hamas on October 7 against the State of Israel, were
coordinated efforts to kill as many innocent people as possible. Since its 1988
Charter, Hamas’ aim has been the complete annihilation of Israel, to which they
have acted on for more than 30 years, mainly carried out by suicide bombings of
innocent civilians. This attack was barbaric to its core. They took equal
pleasure in the rape and mutilation of children and of elderly as they did in
the systemic mass shooting of hundreds of festival goers. And they were cheered
and applauded in the streets of Gaza for their conquests and for the taking of
civilian hostages. This was not just an act of war. Hamas’ attack may have been
a targeted attack against a country, but in its most fundamental terms, it was
an act of antisemitism. It was an act of evil.
Israel is fighting for its self-preservation.
As of January, 2024, Israel’s population is just over 9.8 million people, of
which 73 percent are of the Jewish faith. Out of the 15.2 million Jewish people
in the world, 47% live in Israel. The annihilation of Israel would be the
annihilation of the Jewish people. Israel, at its essence, was established as a
safe haven for every Jewish person, but, since its formation in 1948, it has had
to defend its right to exist. Much like Sept 11th shook the world’s sense of
security, October 7 was a shock to Israel’s. But unlike the aftermath of
September 11, the terrorist attack of October 7 has polarized this country. When
we should be coming together in support of an ally, we are witnessing campaigns
on college campuses, on the internet and from those in the media against Israel.
When our voices should be in sync disparaging Hamas, they are struggling to get
a consensus on Israel’s right to defend itself. It has polarized institutions.
It has polarized friendships, and it has polarized families. How is it possible?
Where is our sense of collective loss, our sense of outrage for the deprivation
of humankind, and where is our sense of humanity for the innocents? Its
unimaginable to think that the intentionally heinous and bloodcurdling reign of
terror that occurred on the families of Kibbutz Be’eri, and at the music
festival could give rise to anything other than horror, anger, and contempt for
the perpetrators and their supporters. How could you not feel nauseous as photos
of the aftermath continued to be shown on the news 24/7 of those that lay dead
and of the bloodied sites where the terrors took place. How could you not feel
empathy for the families of the hostages and for those who lost loved ones. But
yet, the empathy appears to be with the Gazans. Headline news from around the
world, as early as a week after Hamas’ attack, focuses on the Gazan casualties
and the humanitarian relief efforts towards the Gazans. Pictures of decimated
buildings due to Israeli retaliatory airstrikes in efforts to thwart Hamas’
ability to continue its carnage, along with images of scarred and bloodied Gazan
civilians continue to make headlines. The United Nations is strongly cautioning
Israel against the use of its retaliatory efforts, claiming them unhumanitarian.
What did the world think Israel’s response would be? How can Israel be held to a
higher standard of ‘fair play’ when being attacked by a group of militant
terrorists whose only mission is Israel’s destruction. When the world should be
condemning Hamas, we are instead experiencing growing levels of antisemitism in
the form of vandalism, harassment, intimidation, and violence. October 7 was the
deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust 1. Germany has experienced a 240%
increase the week after Oct 7. Britain more than quintupled. In London alone,
anti-semetic incidences jumped 1350%, and in France, more than 1500 anti-semetic
attacks occurred in the month after October 7. According to the Anti-Defamation
League2, the total number of incidents (of anti-semitism) over the three months
since the attack are 4 times the number that occurred during the same period
last year. Jews are a mere fraction of the world’s population and yet we command
such hatred. How did the world become so hateful? How did we not see this
coming? Because, we have become complacent. We have allowed “Never Again”
to become an historical footnote, and to some, historical fiction. It’s as if
October 7 awoke a dormant evil. We can no longer assume that truth outweighs
ignorance. We can no longer remain silent out of fear of rocking the boat. And
we can no longer sit idle thinking that with time, it will go away. I am afraid
for my children’s safety and for the safety of future generations. I am saddened
by the environment in which they are living. Every call ends with, “Stay safe. Stay alert. I love you.”
The safety of students in public and private schools and on college campuses has
been a rising concern since October 7, causing cancellation of classes and
increased security. Increased patrolling along city streets has been warranted
due to anti-Israel protestors and their battle cry,
“From the river to the sea”, a Palestinian rallying phrase that refers to
the territory between Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea, which includes
Israel, recognized as a genocidal call to violence to destroy the state of
Israel. We have learned of neighbors, of friends, workmates, and of politicians
participating in the rallies, that are, in essence, calling for the decimation
of Israel. They are boycotting Israeli products and businesses that support
Israel, and calling on others to join their plight. They are perpetuating
untruths and ill-founded hatred. And with the aid of social media, their reach
is unfathomable and their support is pervasive. If history is any indicator of
our country’s resolve, though, I have to believe that there is more good than
evil. That democracy stands for justice. That the fear of an injustice to one is
a battle cry for all. And that we do not stand alone. But in so doing, we have
to believe in our resolve and we have to believe in our truth and in our right
to exist.
I've just finished listening to a podcast, hosted by Mel Robbins, who's known across generational ages for her relatable and implentable self-help approaches to the challenges of daily life. It was my daughter who introduced me to Robbins' perspectives and tactics for self-improvement. All strong reminders of what we really know about ourselves and the permission to be who we are. And all great wake-up calls. But occasioally, there's one that is transformative. Robbins' guest on this occasion was Vonda Wright, an orthopedic surgeon whose specialty is sports medicine and is considered an expert on mobility, aging, and longevity. The timing of this particular podcast coincided with me receiving my Medicare card, affirming that I've now reached that all encompassing age bracket of 65 and over and realizing there's no next category other than deceased . It got me questioning my own physicality. At 65, I consider myself in good physical condition and ...
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