The Naming of the Dead

It is now the second week into the war between Israel and Hamas. Being at war is now part of our daily routine: attending funerals and Shivas (the Jewish seven days of mourning in which you make a condolence visit to the deceased fam­ily); sirens through the day, blasts from everywhere; and the television blaring from the moment we open our eyes until late. Gradually, the 1,400 bodies from the October 7 massacre in south Israel are being identified. Initially, I was upset that it takes so long. Haven’t the families suffered enough? Appar­ently, in many cases, it was difficult to identify bodies that had been butch­ered or burned. Hamas couldn’t settle for just killing. They burnt many of the bodies. In many cases, only a DNA test can provide unequivocal identifica­tion. My navigation system memory is now filled with cemeteries as destinations. On Friday, I even checked how long it would take from one cemetery to another to attend multiple funerals. I saw that it was impossible to reach the second funeral and chose instead to only attend the Shiva. These are the choices that I must make this week. There isn’t a single person in Israel who isn’t going to attend at least one funeral this week. My colleague Hadas lost her mother, her nephew, and her brother-in-law; and a nephew of hers is declared missing. How much sorrow can one person handle? I attended the funeral of Itamar (21), a paramedic hero who was injured but continued to treat soldiers until he was shot to death. A few days after his death, a previously scheduled book de­livery that Itamar had ordered arrived at his home. One book was called How to Retire Young. How ironic.

Professor (Jiftah) Ben-Asher (85), renowned agronomist who special­ised in precision agriculture, died this week. I had the honour of knowing him and carry one of his inventions to India via my Agribator centre. The rocket barrages on the village of Omer, in southern Israel, killed him without even hitting his house. Running in and out of the shelter became too hard for his fragile heart, and it collapsed during one of the sirens. His death was déjà vu for me. My parents also lived in Omer, and in Operation Protective Edge in 2014, my mom’s heart couldn’t stand the frequent sirens and rockets, and she died of a heart attack. She and Ben-Asher are not counted among the war casualties.

Two days before the Massacre, I attended a friend’s daughter’s wedding. It was such a happy occasion, attended by many young and beauti­ful friends of the couple. I met the father at one of the funerals this week. I complimented him on the wedding. He replied that many of the youngsters who attended the wedding are no longer with us. My heart broke.

Now Israel is facing multiple dilemmas. One is how to manage the hostage situation. There are 199 hos­tages. Among them, there are 26 kids; a few autistic, with special needs. Many hostages are also above 70 and require medication. Palestinians are begging for a ceasefire. Israel is asking Hamas to release the hostages. The image of Ariel, a four-year-old redhead is stuck in my head. The families of hostages created a forum to make sure that their loved ones were not forgotten, and photographs of Ariel and other angel faces are now plastered all over social media.

The war is not just on the battle­field. Social media and public opinion play a big role. The fake news distribut­ed by Hamas’ ignorant supporters is so annoying. I saw someone on X claim­ing that Israelis beheaded Palestinian babies. How absurd. Hamas knows that the Israeli army is moral. Hamas knows that we are too kind. When the leader of Hamas, Yahya Sinwar, was jailed in Israel due to his terror activities, he was diagnosed with cancer. Instead of letting him rot in jail, he was treated and healed.

For a week, we enjoyed solidarity from the world. I knew that it was temporary, and public opinion is always in favour of the victims. As we move from defence to offence, the international support will decline. Many TV channels are now complain­ing that Israel is bringing upon Gaza a humanitarian crisis by not giving it ac­cess to water and electricity. They don’t understand that less than 10 per cent of the water to Gaza comes from Israel. The balance of the supply is local but Hamas, on purpose, blocks the water to their own people to create pressure on Israel and the world.

The media is crying that our response is not proportionate. What is proportionate? Should the number of people killed on both sides be equal? Double? Triple? Should the number of missiles and bombs be equal? A rape for a rape? A baby beheaded in front of its parents against a beheaded baby? How can we compare the Hamas carnage, with 3,000 terrorists attack­ing civilians, to the attack of the Israeli Air Force on Hamas’ infrastructure? Hamas is to be blamed for not letting Palestinians leave the target area. They don’t care for their people. They use them as human shields.

Israelis are resilient, and thanks to anti-missile platforms like the Iron Dome, there are fewer casualties from the missile barrages of the last 15 years. And yet, residents of southern Israel, subject to missile attacks for years, are suffering various mental health prob­lems. Would you be willing to live un­der constant missile fire? How do you measure the mental consequences?

The ignorant mob on the street shouted: “Free Palestine”. This is ignorance, unless the protest is directed at Hamas which keeps Palestinians as prisoners. Israel urges the world to understand that Hamas is ISIS. If you don’t get it, it will get you. The US understood the threat and sent an aircraft carrier. America needed 9/11 to understand that Al-Qaeda should not survive. October 7 made Israel understand that Hamas is a threat to humanity and must be eradicated. For the sake of the whole world. Hamas acts not out of love for the Palestinian people, but out of a deep-seated hatred for Israel, specifically for Jews, wherever they may be. Hamas’ charter can ex­pand. It’s a matter of time before they target others.

While I was writing this diary, my son went jogging. I told him that he should run in circles around the block only. Suddenly, a massive rocket bar­rage started. Sirens and booms were heard around us. I went out and called his name several times. Panic started to crawl into my voice. “I am coming,” he replied after a few long seconds. My heart had stopped for a while.

About The Author

Anat Bernstein-Reich

Anat Bernstein-Reich is chairperson of the Israel-Asia Chamber of Commerce, a Friend of India Awardee for 2020, and CEO of BDO Israel-India Investment Banking firm

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