Every time I drive on Road 232, a main artery through southern Israel, I see phantoms.
Since moving to a kibbutz in southern Israel in July, Road 232 has become my lifeline, as it is for all residents of a region that is dotted with small towns and villages. This beautiful, pastoral area is where much of Israel’s fresh produce is grown.
Today, however, many orchards and fields are overgrown. The residents who maintained them have either been murdered, displaced from their homes or taken hostage by Hamas. Worn posters of hostages from the area remind residents of this fact at every turn, intersection and roadside bomb shelter.
October 7 changed everything. Forever.
For all Israelis, the abandonment of so many civilians in such a large area of the south was, and remains, incomprehensible. We all rely upon the Israel Defence Forces. We know the IDF. It is referred to as the “people’s army.” Virtually all citizens over the age of 18 serve.
Socioeconomic, racial, ethnic and religious differences that may matter in civilian life dissipate in the army, where merit and skill are paramount. When showing up for annual reserve duty, a high-tech CEO may well find himself under the command of an Ethiopian Jew from a poor town. Or a Druze Arab. The army has always functioned as an equalizer across Israeli society, a deeply formative experience that all citizens share.
And we rely upon it. We thought it would always be there for us. Until it wasn’t.
I have watched and read thousands of testimonies of October 7. Every single one, every single person, asks: “Where was the IDF?”
Those who survived cowered in safe rooms and bomb shelters, listening to the madness of terrorists constantly yelling “Allahu akhbar,” shooting Kalashnikovs and throwing grenades into bomb shelters stuffed with civilians. Every single one of those terrified people kept telling themselves that “the army will be here any minute.”
But the army did not come. Not for hours in many cases.
Television anchors were taking live calls in the early morning hours from desperate and panicked Israelis. The anchors struggled to maintain composure. They knew what was going on. Everyone knew. But where was the IDF?
None of our political leaders addressed the nation throughout the day. It was the gravest breach of trust and dereliction of duty.
Politicians disappointing the population with hubris, corruption and incompetence isn’t shocking. But for the intelligence, security and military services to all fail to fulfill their most basic duties and promise to the nation — well, that is simply too much to take.
In the early days of the war, the shock of this failure permeated everything. It still does. One year on, we still wait for answers. The shattering of trust is the main impact of October 7 for myself and many others.
Each day seems to deliver fresh horror. New information is rarely uplifting. We watch the agony of the hostage families, the bereaved and the tens of thousands of civilians who witnessed indescribable atrocities.
We were told that we must be unified. For a brief period, that was a strong tonic. But the unity was forced from desperation. So, after a few months, the deeply entrenched tribal animosities in Israeli society prevailed. We are a nation more divided than ever.
For me, a defining moment came on April 13. I was at the weekly rally in support of the hostages and their families when I received a message from Home Front Command on my phone. As did every other person in Israel. We were urged to seek shelter and safety immediately, as an Iranian attack was imminent.
At the time, I lived in central Tel Aviv, which until that moment was considered to be among the safest places in the country. My home was less than one kilometre from IDF headquarters and not far from the largest intelligence base in the country. The general assumption was that they were all well-protected.
I watched on television, shortly after midnight, what looked like a video game being played out in the skies. A multilateral force that included the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia scrambled to intercept the missiles and drones shot from Iranian territory towards Israel. Everything about that night was extraordinary and terrifying
I took two pills and went to sleep at 1:30 a.m., not knowing if I would wake up. I could not take the pointless, nerve-racking wait. I preferred sleep to high anxiety.
The next morning, I awoke at 10 a.m. We had been spared. But what was left of our sense of collective security was in tatters.
A short while later, I moved to a kibbutz in the south of Israel, not far from the area that had been invaded by Hamas. There was nothing heroic or stupid about this decision. On the contrary, I felt that I was safer in the middle of nowhere than in the midst of the most densely populated area of Israel, right next to key institutions.
I vividly recall the horror of October 7. I was in Toronto, at the end of a long summer vacation. I remember so many Hamas supporters celebrating in the streets of Canadian cities. They were jubilantly cheering on mass murder, people being tortured, burned alive, taken hostage. I cannot think of a historical parallel in the West that comes close to being so blood-curdling since the rise of the Nazi regime in the 1930s.
As they celebrated, the slaughter continued in Israel. It took days for the IDF to restore order and secure the border.
Today, in Canada, the pro-Hamas thugs are untouchable, it seems. They roam and terrorize freely. Just last week, they set up an impromptu street blockade in a Jewish neighbourhood in Ottawa, deciding who may enter and who may leave. Police stood aside, as they have done since October 7.
Canadian Jews are on edge. We are also astonished at how quickly society has turned on us.
In Israel, people are resolute but somewhat despairing. We see the world, including Canada, scramble to appease extremists who are clear about their agenda: to destroy Israel, murder Jews and establish a global caliphate. They are serious.
In Israel, we have not asked one another “how are you” in casual conversation for a year. Every single person is directly impacted by this ongoing horror. The global community seems to have no understanding of the unprecedented challenge of a conventionally trained army that’s forced to fight a hardcore terrorist militia that celebrates martyrdom. There is little appreciation in the West for the role that Iran plays in fomenting violence and spreading terrorism around the globe.
I was meant to return to Israel a week ago, but my flight was cancelled. I wanted to be among those who mourn as do I on October 7. It seems that instead, I may find myself in Toronto, watching a wild mob call for the annihilation of Israel and the Jewish people.
They are everywhere, these monsters. They laughed as they hunted young party-goers. They exulted as they shouted “Allahu akhbar!” and set fire to homes with parents, children, seniors and infants huddled inside. They high fived as whole families screamed before being incinerated. They raped. They live-streamed torture. They threw grenades into roadside bomb shelters stuffed with dozens of terrified festival-goers.
They are everywhere. And make no mistake: they are here in Canada, too.
National Post
Vivian Bercovici is a former Canadian ambassador to Israel and the founder of the State of Tel Aviv.