Weeks after, Sharone Lifschitz presided over a deeply affecting ceremony at her father’s graveside in kibbutz Nir Oz. To pay tribute to him that evening, she recited one of his poems. It was an event that deeply and memorably echoed the transforming realities that residents… underwent after the terror attack of October 7. The attack rattled Israeli communities and society to their very core. To that end, on that fateful day, Hamas and other militant groups began a coordinated assault. This devastating attack led to more than 1,200 deaths and the abduction of 251 people including five from kibbutz Holot. Residents like Lifschitz, Avida Bachar and Merav Roth bear emotional scars and have undergone dramatic political shifts. Yet their stories are part of a deeper trend within Israeli society.
Sharone Lifschitz’s father was a poet. His tragic, heroic words echo down through the years in her mind, tapping into the indescribable feelings of loss and transformation. Into this mix of personal grief and national tragedy was added a change in Lifschitz’s outlook on how peace could come with the Palestinians. Avida Bachar, originally from kibbutz Be’eri, is coming to terms with this change, though he fights for a two-state solution. Meanwhile, Merav Roth has dedicated her work to helping survivors reclaim their lives after the trauma inflicted on October 7.
Personal Journeys of Loss and Resilience
Even for those of us far removed, the horrors of October 7 have changed the definition of what it means to survive an attack. Avida Bachar recounts her harrowing experience of spending 12 hours gripping the handle of her safe room door in kibbutz Nirim, where she and her family hid from Hamas militants. On Conflict and Peace Her view on war and peace today is heavily influenced by this traumatic experience.
Bachar’s life is a reflection of the ideology of her dad, Oded, who think that the most important thing is signing peace with the Palestinians. Even with her advocacy for a peaceful resolution, she is not unaware of the complexities at play around the issue. “I mean, they say: ‘Okay, we want to live together… like two states… we can work together, we can live together,’” she states, reflecting her desire for coexistence amidst the turmoil.
This personal journey is reflected by many in the community. For Gili Avidor, a Tel Aviv University 21-year-old student of architecture, rage and vengeance are the side effects of grappling with the country’s pervasive sense of loss. Her experiences have made her a skeptic about the cycle of violence that keeps conflict going.
“I thought there is probably some other girl on the other side of the gate in Gaza that is feeling exactly what I feel,” Avidor shares. “Revenge is what makes such things to happen in the first place.”
The Weight of Trauma on Society
Given that, the emotional and traumatic toll of the October 7 attacks hits just as close to home. Yet it has much broader implications for Israeli society as a whole. Psychologist Merav Roth, who works in Haifa, wants to underline the psychological crisis survivors are now beginning to face. She draws on the spirit of the women who make survival more important than thinking about the big picture.
It consumes the majority of all your physical and emotional strength to exist, mentally. And that is why they don’t have extra bandwidth to consider ‘the other,’” Roth says. Her observations reveal how trauma can narrow perspectives and hinder empathy towards others.
Roth issues a cautionary tale about what happens when we let trauma inform our collective sense of worth. She fears that if Israelis lose their morality and compassion, it will be a victory for Hamas. It’s ever important to double-down on those positive values when times are tough.
“This will be really the victory of Hamas if the Israeli people will lose their values, their higher selves, their morality,” Roth asserts.
She makes a case for keeping one’s humanity about them, even when confronted with deep loss and rage.
“I don’t want to teach them bad things about humanity,” she continues. “So, I prepare them to keep thinking that Hamas is bad and the people are good… even if I don’t feel it myself.”
A Shift in Ideals
These three decades of disappointment and betrayal found their lodestar in the events of October 7 for many kibbutzniks. For many, this shift has resulted in despair over the future of peace. Almog Holot expresses this feeling beautifully when he states that he doesn’t know what to believe.
“I don’t know what I believe in, but it’s not peace,” he confesses. Holot’s struggle is emblematic of a larger disillusionment with many in the region.
The trauma of these recent events has not only hurt and angered community members, but has created a sense of isolation and need to defend oneself. As Roth describes, chaos creates a black-and-white worldview—us versus them, good versus evil—making anything closer to reconciliation even harder.
When you’re in chaos, when you’re intimidated, when you’re threatened, you split the world into two: total good and total bad… and revenge is an illusion of becoming strong, she says.
These are real challenges, of course, but don’t underestimate the voices within the community who want to promote and facilitate this understanding and deeper connection. Bachar remains an optimist who believes that dialogue can heal divides. “Would I want to get up tomorrow morning, wake up and see that all the people in Gaza disappeared and everything is peaceful? Yes,” Holot reflects on his aspirations for peace while grappling with the complexities of achieving it.
“But do I think (either) is possible? No,” he admits.
