Israel's Quest for Justice

In 2006, Gaza voted. Hamas won. Rivals from the Palestinian Authority got a bullet instead of a handshake. New Elections? Cancelled. The billions meant for the people? Funneled underground, literally, into a vast network of military might. Gaza wasn't just occupied; it was hijacked by Hamas terrorists from within. Across the border, Israel watched, its two million Arab citizens living in peace, a contradiction to Gaza's grim new reality.

Hamas terrorist didn't just occupy the land and its people; they burrowed into it, constructing a shadow city beneath the sand. Imagine a network of tunnels, over 300 miles long. This wasn't amateur hour; it was a subterranean empire, half the length of New York's subway system, built on redirected billions meant for Gaza’s citizens. The Hamas tunnels, their war machines, were woven through Gaza’s most vulnerable spots, where schools stand and hospitals serve the sick. Civilians, trapped in the crossfire, became shields for the shadows below.

Hamas’s ambition culminated on October 7, transforming a sacred Jewish holiday into terror. They didn't come quietly; they came firing over 7,000 rockets for the sole purpose of killing innocent civilians. For them, the rules of war didn't apply. Israeli lives weren't collateral damage; they were targets, celebrated with glee in every hit.

The aftermath caught the world’s eye, turning horror into headlines, undeniable and raw. The United Nations laid bare a nightmare so grim it might have sprung from Stephen King’s imagination, had it not been tragically real. The UN report catalogues a spree of brutality: gang rape, sexualized torture, and a descent into inhuman cruelty against Israeli woman and children. This marks the first time the international community has pointed a finger at Hamas, substantiating Israel’s claims about that day's horror.

Of the 253 individuals yanked from their lives during Hamas’s blitzkrieg, 134 are still missing, effectively held in a black hole within the Gaza Strip. Among these, five are Americans, their passports making them no less invisible. Israeli authorities, in a grim roll call, have declared at least 35 of these souls dead. For their families and friends, it’s a waiting game with hope as the stakes—a hope that's wearing thin as the conflict drags on and the world’s attention drifts elsewhere.

There are many unfortunate victims of the war in Gaza. But let’s not forget that the U.S. turned German and Japanese cities to dust in World War II, aiming to end what the Axis started. In Iraq, Fallujah and Mosul were leveled by the full weight of American might, using disproportional force to root out Islamic gunmen hiding among innocents. Now, Israel's in the spotlight, criticized for playing by the harsh rules of war that history wrote long ago. The world wags its fingers in protest, while cloaked in the dazzling robe of hypocrisy.

The stage was set before October 7: Israel, the West Bank, and Gaza—three areas leading separate lives, though not all by choice. Elections? A distant memory for two of them. But the plot thickens. It wasn’t Israel chasing after a vanishing dream; it was the West Bank and Gaza, who harbored visions of an uninterrupted horizon "from the river to the sea," a future without Israel. Israel's wish was simpler: neighbors who didn’t spend their nights plotting its demise, dreaming instead of a shared future, separate but peaceful.

The cries for peace grow louder. Easy solutions? A dangerous myth, especially with lives at stake. Israel stands at a crossroads, pressured to lay down its arms. Cast your mind back to before October 7. An uneasy peace prevailed, until Hamas tore it apart—1,200 lives snuffed out, 250 stolen away. Their weapon? Terror, hoping to force Israel's hand. Now, facing defeat, they plead for a ceasefire, a chance to sidestep the chaos they've caused. But it's not that simple. Not anymore.