Sinwar’s end: the ultimate irony
Nowhere is this more evident than in the country's unwavering determination to bring its hostages home.
Israel, a country bound by its resilience, is currently enduring one of the most painful chapters in its history.
The war is relentless and with every passing day, the question lingers: is Israel’s humanity – its fierce commitment to every life – both its greatest strength and its most crippling vulnerability?
Nowhere is this more evident than in the country’s unwavering determination to bring its hostages home. No matter the cost.
There is something about Israel that pulls you in, a sense of shared fate, of mutual responsibility. “Arevut hadadit” runs deep here, right down to the core. It’s seen in the faces of soldiers, volunteers and everyday citizens. No one is left behind. It’s a belief so powerful it has launched daring rescue missions, opened negotiations and, sometimes, rewritten the course of war.
The Entebbe raid in 1976 was a moment that defined this ethos. Hostages taken, a hijacking far from home – yet Israel’s elite commandos stormed an airport in Uganda and brought 102 people back to safety. Thousands of kilometres from Israel, but the mission felt like it was right in their backyard. It’s that level of commitment that echoes through generations.
A boldness that says no matter the odds, the people will be brought back.
Fast-forward to now. The conflict has plunged Israel into a similar heartbreak, with civilians once again taken hostage. Names whispered in anguish. Each hostage representing a nation’s collective grief and a singular determination to bring them home. The government, under immense pressure from its people, is navigating this emotional battlefield, knowing that every decision will resonate with an entire nation. You see it in the faces of the soldiers, the reservists, the volunteers – the absolute, unshakable belief that no one is left behind. Arevut hadadit. Mutual responsibility. It runs deep, all the way to the core. A belief so powerful it can launch a thousand missions, break open negotiations and turn a conflict upside down. This is a country that will do anything, anything, to bring its people home.
But there is fragility in this relentless compassion. Israel’s unity and humanity, while noble, make the country vulnerable.
The lengths they will go to for their people carry consequences. Prisoner exchanges – like the one for Gilad Shalit in 2011 – are celebrated as victories but come with a dark shadow. One soldier was returned, yes. But in exchange, over a thousand prisoners were freed.
Among them, Yahya Sinwar.
The irony is bitter.
Sinwar, once saved by Israeli doctors who removed a life-threatening brain tumour, was given a second chance at life.
And yet, it was this same man who would later orchestrate the horrific October 7 attack in 2023, which claimed over 1200 Israeli lives. The very compassion that spared him led to one of Israel’s darkest days.
And it was Sinwar himself who had predicted his release, saying to the prison intelligence chief, Betty Lahat, “There’s a date: God knows it.”
That date came in 2011, facilitated by his own brothers who played a key role in the kidnapping of Shalit. It was all part of a plan – a calculated strategy to bring Yahya Sinwar out of prison and back into the fight.
The complexities are impossible to ignore.
Israel’s greatest strength – its absolute commitment to preserving life – is also its greatest weakness. In freeing Sinwar, Israel set the stage for future bloodshed, unwittingly creating a force that would haunt them years later. The compassion that defines the nation also leaves it exposed to those who exploit it.
And yet, Israel goes on.
The recent Nuseirat operation, where hostages were rescued, shows that no matter the cost, no matter the risks, they will continue to act.
But it’s never without loss.
Chief Inspector Arnon Zmora, a dedicated officer, lost his life in that rescue, leaving behind a wife and children. One life saved, another sacrificed. It’s the story Israel knows all too well – one of triumph and tragedy, intertwined.
This is the difficult balance Israel faces. It’s a country that cannot and will not, turn its back on its people. But with every exchange, every mission, there’s a creeping vulnerability. Every prisoner released is a potential threat returned to the battlefield and the cycle begins again.
In the streets of Tel Aviv, vigils are held. Prayers mingle with tears. The government is besieged not only by external enemies but by the intense pressure from its own citizens. Bring them home, the people cry.
Whatever it takes.
The nation’s humanity is its most delicate weakness. It’s what drives them to extraordinary lengths but also exposes them to unimaginable risks. The compassion that binds them together is the very thing that could break them.
So, is Israel’s humanity its greatest strength or its most significant weakness? In truth, it is both. The country’s unwavering commitment to the lives of its citizens is a source of immense pride and resilience. It fosters unity in times of crisis and drives the country to extraordinary feats of bravery and resourcefulness. But it also exposes vulnerabilities – ethical, strategic and emotional – that Israel must grapple with as it navigates the painful realities of war.
And yet, despite the pain, the loss, the sacrifice, they keep going. They keep caring. Because for Israel, one life is worth a thousand.
It’s this belief that propels them forward, that gives them their strength. And maybe, just maybe, that’s where Israel’s true power lies.
Compassion is the core of this nation. It drives and exposes Israel at the same time.
Despite everything, they choose to care.
Because caring, in Israel, is non-negotiable. Even when it hurts. Even when it costs.
Sharon Givoni is a Melbourne-based lawyer, freelance writer and legal editor.
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