When good people defend the indefensible: How Jewish trauma fuels moral blindness in Gaza

When good people defend the indefensible: 
How Jewish trauma fuels moral blindness in Gaza

by Sarena Neyman

829 words

As we enter the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur—a time meant for reflecting on where we’ve strayed from compassion—I keep returning to the dehumanization of Palestinians I’ve witnessed among the observant Jewish community I grew up in. 

Over the years, I have spoken out against Israel’s assault on Gaza and have been accused of spewing “ignorant, pathetic Al Jazeera-fueled antisemitic rhetoric.” “You will not be admired for your performative moral integrity,” they admonish. My critics are often otherwise compassionate people, yet their support for the Israeli army remains unwavering.

My devotion to Israel was once as absolute as theirs. My parents — both Holocaust survivors — loved Israel second only to their children. They sent me to Zionist schools and summer camps; I grew up immersed in Hebrew music and literature. To me, Israel was not just a country; it was our shield against another Holocaust.

Only later did I learn about the forced expulsions of Palestinians and how the Israeli army — which I had been taught was the most moral in the world — had armed death squads in Africa and Latin America. My Israeli cousin trained troops for Idi Amin, whose regime slaughtered half a million Ugandans. When I asked my mother how Israel could have done this, she said everyone hated us, so we took our support where we could get it. Her words rattled me. How could this survivor of five concentration camps, who rebuilt her life as a beloved pediatrician, embrace a moral exceptionalism that excused Israel for abetting genocide?

Over time I came to see her response as born of unspeakable trauma. The Nazis had torn her baby sister from her arms. She had been beaten and starved, and witnessed death on a daily basis. Centuries of persecution embeds a fierce tribalism: Protect your own at all costs. But as Rabbi Daniel Bogard points out, “Trauma does not give us moral clarity. It just makes us traumatized.” And trauma, left unhealed, breeds more trauma. 

Hamas’s attack on October 7 reawakened Jews’ deepest wound — our ancestral fear of extermination. The Israeli government seized on this to justify a campaign of annihilation: deliberately starving and attacking civilians, restricting humanitarian aid, bombing hospitals and schools.  

Even as Israel escalates its Gaza assault, defenders minimize these horrors. Despite Israeli media restrictions and unprecedented journalist deaths, the emerging evidence looks nothing like self-defense. But when dozens of human rights groups call it genocide, the messengers are discredited to deny the message. “How naive you are,” comes the refrain. “Don’t you understand these groups hates us?”  

The ease with which my own people excuse these atrocities is chilling. “I’m watching something that is so evidently horrific and inhumane,” Jon Stewart shared on The Daily Show. Yet when he condemns these actions, he is warned that speaking out threatens Israel’s survival, even though it is Israel’s actions, not Jewish dissent, that endanger the country most.

And he’s right. Studies show Israeli violence fuels antisemitism, which then “justifies” more militarization, creating an endless, deadly spiral that both brutalizes Palestinians and endangers Jews everywhere. Furthermore, adds Jewish Currents publisher Daniel May, the argument that Jews are “at risk no matter where they live and no matter what they do or say,” distracts us from addressing the conditions that actually drive anti-Israel violence. Among my detractors, acknowledging this context is taboo. Mention decades of occupation, and you’re accused of excusing the horrific kidnappings and murders of October 7.

I believe Israel has a right to exist, but survival built on another people’s suffering isn’t survival — it’s moral collapse that sows the seeds of our own undoing. I understand that tribalism served an evolutionary purpose, forging loyalty in times of threat. But when it hardens into a moral blind spot, it justifies cruelty and brands truth-telling as betrayal.

As Israel edges toward near-total obliteration of Gaza, we must confront the trauma-fueled myth of victimhood. Backed by billions in U.S. aid, Israel is no longer David. It has become Goliath. But Goliath’s strength is also his weakness; brute force creates more enemies than it destroys. Yet the community in which I grew up still clings to the fantasy that Israel can eradicate Hamas through its military might. In fact, the opposite is true. As journalist Peter Beinart warns, our destinies are intertwined: “If you want Israeli Jews to be safe, Palestinians also have to be safe. And Palestinians cannot be safe unless they are free.” 

This means abandoning the dehumanizing narrative that Palestinians are terrorist monsters who use children as human shields. Because only by cultivating genuine empathy — by recognizing Palestinians as people just like us, who want safety and dignity for their families — can we break this cycle of trauma. The choice before us is stark: continue down this path of moral blindness that endangers both peoples, or find the courage to imagine a different story — one where Jewish safety doesn’t require Palestinian extinction.  

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Sarena Neyman, syndicated by PeaceVoice, is a writer living in western Massachusetts whose essays have appeared in Huffington Post, Business Insider, Common Dreams, and Cabin Life.