I took my children to a movie in Jerusalem a few weeks ago. After the film, my five-year-old daughter pointed to umbrellas adorned with pictures of hostages held in Gaza.
“Abba, look, it’s them,” she said. When I asked who she meant, she replied, “Those that were stolen.” What could I say? How do you explain such horror to a child?
We shield our children as best we can, but an entire generation is growing up with a profound insecurity.
Luckily, no one in our family was hurt, and we’ve protected our kids from the worst of these times.
But I can’t imagine the trauma for a child from Be’eri who survived the atrocities—witnessing terrorists invade their peaceful community, committing unspeakable acts of violence.
On October 7, 2023, in the opening attacks of the Hamas-led assault on Israel, around 300 terrorists, including 100-120 trained Nukhba fighters, 50-70 Hamas regulars, and 100-150 Islamic Jihad terrorists and criminals, attacked Kibbutz Be’eri.
The attackers overwhelmed the community, taking hostages and killing indiscriminately.
This massacre resulted in the deaths of 101 residents, including women, children, and even a 9-month-old infant.
The youngest hostage taken from there was three years old, and Hamas is still holding 11 of them hostage.
At least 10% of the farming community’s residents lost their lives, and 150 houses were destroyed. Among those killed was peace activist Vivian Silver, who symbolized the hope for a better future that these attackers sought to destroy.
This tragic sequence of events highlights a deeper issue: the arrogance and failure to heed warnings from our intelligence.
WhatsApp messages from a mother’s group in the kibbutz and CCTV footage revealed a horrifying timeline. By 6:00 a.m., Hamas terrorists had arrived at the gate of the kibbutz, executing civilians in a vehicle.
They went from house to house, shooting occupants, throwing grenades, and setting homes on fire with Molotov cocktails.
In one particularly tragic incident, a 10-month-old baby was killed, shot through the door of a safe room while held in her mother’s arms.
The incomprehensible horrors of October 7
THESE ATROCITIES are beyond comprehension. How do we explain to our children that such evil exists? How do we teach them about a world where their friends and neighbors can be slaughtered so mercilessly?
If there’s one thing we can learn from the Be’eri massacre, it is the necessity of a lack of arrogance. As Israelis, humility isn’t always our strong suit.
We pride ourselves on having the best army in the world, boasting superior technology, highly committed soldiers, and an air force renowned for its precision.
Our intense security situation grants us unparalleled experience. But on the morning of October 7, we learned a harsh lesson: our confidence was misplaced.
Do we have a strong army? Yes. Are our soldiers incredibly dedicated? Absolutely. Thousands of Israelis interrupted their lives—whether backpacking in India or working on Wall Street—to return home and fight.
This kind of commitment is rare, a testament to our unique national spirit.
However, this same spirit reveals a critical flaw: arrogance. Our leaders—whether in the Knesset, the IDF, or other security agencies—lacked the humility to acknowledge their failures.
Many still refuse to utter the simple yet crucial phrase: “We have failed.” Any leader in any field should be taught to admit mistakes. It doesn’t always mean they must resign, but in some cases, accountability demands it.
The IDF’s probe into the Be’eri massacre revealed several major failures during a day and a half of terror at the kibbutz. As previously mentioned, the attackers overwhelmed the community, taking hostages and killing indiscriminately.
How could terrorists breach our borders, invade Be’eri before 7 a.m. on a Saturday, and only be neutralized by Sunday night? Where was the IDF? Where was the Police? Where was the Shin Bet? Why did it take tanks half a day to reach Be’eri? Why did soldiers outside the kibbutz hesitate due to a lack of orders? Arrogance—pure and simple.
According to the probe, until 2:30 p.m. on October 7—over seven and a half hours after the attack began—between 13 and 26 Israelis were fighting somewhere between 80 and 200 terrorists in the kibbutz.
The initial defenders included the kibbutz’s emergency standby squad and additional security forces flown in later. But they were vastly outnumbered and overwhelmed.
It took hours for a “big-picture” commander, Brig.-Gen. Barak Hiram, to oversee the defense efforts, and even then, the response was chaotic and insufficient.
THE PROBE also highlighted the failure of IDF intelligence. Despite evidence of SIM cards being activated in the Gaza Strip, this was not seen as a legitimate concern.
Hamas fired 3,000 rockets in four hours, creating chaos and overwhelming our defenses. The IDF’s failure to have a fully formed first or second line of defense at the Gaza border was a glaring oversight.
Despite these failures, our nation began piecing itself back together. The unity and support from Jews worldwide, even those previously critical of Israel, have been remarkable. Yet, this spirit keeps our politicians and security leaders out of step.
Nine months have passed, and we still have 120 hostages in Gaza. Tens of thousands of people are displaced, unable or unwilling to return home until threats from Hamas and Hezbollah are eliminated.
The situation remains unresolved, and the arrogance that got us here hasn’t disappeared.
Why didn’t they listen? Why were the warnings ignored? This arrogance—this fatal flaw—needs to be addressed. We must purge arrogance and promote accountability in our leaders. They need to be able to admit mistakes and learn from them.
While the world moves on and often criticizes Israel, we continue to live the reality of October 7.
We hope the Western world understands and supports the only democracy in the Middle East, but we are far from a solution.
Our leadership must learn to be less arrogant, but the world must also understand the complexity and trauma we face.
If we learn nothing from this, we’ve failed those who suffered. We must learn from the bad and the good, doing everything we can to grow.