This is a thought experiment. It is not real—at least not yet.
But if the U.S. plan described in the Wall Street Journal were ever implemented—dividing Gaza into an Israeli-controlled “safe zone” focused on reconstruction and a Hamas-controlled area—then this is the kind of eulogy that could one day be heard at Mount Herzl. It imagines the words of a grieving Israeli mother whose son was killed by a Hamas sniper while guarding multi-family housing construction for Gazans. The soldier’s name is left unspoken, because it could be anyone’s son.
My son did not die in war. He did not fall rescuing hostages. He did not die in a raid, or in a tank, or in a tunnel. He died guarding a building site — a multi-family housing project for Gazans. Cement, cranes, scaffolding. And one bullet through the heart.
They told me he was helping to build the new Gaza. They said it was part of the “safe zone.” They said he was protecting hope, showing the world that Israel could be both strong and compassionate. But there was no peace. There was a Hamas sniper. And now, there is a grave.
He was twenty-two years old. He should have been home. He should have been alive. They said this would show the world our humanity. But what kind of humanity sends our sons to die guarding apartment blocks for the same people who cheered when others were murdered in Be’eri and Nir Oz? What kind of peace needs Jewish boys standing watch over concrete, while terrorists reload across the line?
They told us this was part of a new strategy — “Total Victory.” A victory, they said, that would finally secure Israel’s borders and restore our deterrence. But tell me, standing here at Mount Herzl: is this the Total Victory they promised us? A mother’s tears? A folded flag? A soldier killed not in defense of his country, but in defense of a construction project for those still ruled by the same terror that took his life?
My son was a soldier. He obeyed orders. He believed in this country. He believed in life. But he was not sent to defend Israel. He was sent to defend an illusion — an illusion built of good intentions and foreign plans that never had to pay the price. Those who designed this “peace” from afar will attend conferences and shake hands. They will speak of progress. And we will bury our children.
They called it the “safe side.” Safe for whom? Not for him. Not for the boys who patrolled beside him, building someone else’s future while their own was cut short. They said it would “weaken Hamas politically,” as if the men who shot him cared about politics. As if peace could ever be built on scaffolding guarded by rifles.
Was this the Total Victory we were promised? The sight of Jewish mothers standing over their sons’ graves, whispering Shema Yisrael while foreign leaders applaud our restraint? The kind of victory that leaves us morally applauded but physically diminished?
Don’t tell me it was moral. Don’t tell me it was progress. Progress does not come wrapped in a flag and buried in this soil. You cannot call it victory when it costs us the very lives we swore to protect.
If this is what it means to rebuild Gaza — if this is what it costs — then let the world build it themselves. Let them send their own sons to guard the cranes, the concrete, and the dreams. My son’s blood will not be the foundation of another illusion called peace.
May his memory be a blessing. May his death be the last. And may no other mother ever stand here, burying her child for the sake of someone else’s “safe zone.”
Because if this is “Total Victory,” then what does defeat even look like?
Prophetic common sense