It is a very historic day for the Middle East today. A «Long and painful nightmare» is over, Trump says. Trump arrived in Tel Aviv to mark the release of Israeli hostages by the terrorist organization called Hamas.

Trump is very proud of this moment. Maybe the best moment of his life. Trump has done something that nobody before him has achieved. Trump has made peace in the Middle East. He released 20 living hostages. A day that none of their families thought would come.

Trump delivered a speech in which he said America joined its ally in two «everlasting vows»: Never forget, and never again.» He also said that the war is over. A war that was ugly, but Hamas is not alone.

Iran is the leading foreign backer of Hamas, whose attack on Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, saw 1.200 people killed and hundreds taken hostage. Weapons taken out of Libya during the chaotic post-2011 period ended up in many places.

UN and expert reporting show Libyan arsenals were looted and trafficked to many different places. According to author Hanne Nabintu Herland, Norway dropped 588 bombs in Libya, where millions of civilians were killed. Thousands of bombs were given to the terrorist organization Hamas after the war in Libya.

Israel has the right to defend itself, and Israel`s response and the ensuing war have left more than 67.000 Palestinians dead, including thousands of civilians, according to Gaza`s Health Ministry.

Gaza itself has been largely destroyed, with most buildings in ruins. It looks like Hiroshima during World War II. About 80% of Gaza has been destroyed. Is this the right thing to do? People and legacy media have criticized Israel for what they have done in Gaza. Was what Israel has done in Gaza Okay?

Let`s start with Israel. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is one of the most complex and emotionally charged disputes in modern history. Few elements symbolize this tension more than the wall — or security barrier — that separates Israel from the Palestinian territories.

To understand why this wall exists and why Hamas remains at the heart of the story, we have to look back at what happened before its construction and how events unfolded afterward.

Israel built the wall because the terrorist organization Hamas attacked civilians in Israel. For many Palestinians, Hamas presented itself as a movement of resistance and social welfare — running schools, hospitals, and charity networks, especially in Gaza, where poverty and unemployment were widespread. But for Israel and much of the international community,

Hamas’s violent actions and refusal to recognize Israel’s right to exist made it a terrorist organization, a designation now shared by the United States, the European Union, Canada, and several others. So, the Israeli war was against the terrorists in Gaza. Not civilians in Gaza.

Before the Wall: Years of Violence

The 1990s and early 2000s were some of the bloodiest years in Israeli history, marked by a wave of suicide bombings, shootings, and other attacks carried out by Hamas and other militant groups. The Second Intifada (2000–2005) became a turning point.

Hamas’s attacks were frequent and devastating:

• Bus bombings in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv targeted civilians commuting to work or school.
• Restaurants, shopping malls, and markets were attacked, turning ordinary places into sites of tragedy.
• The Sbarro restaurant bombing (2001) killed 15 people and injured more than 100.
• The Dolphinarium discotheque bombing (2001) took the lives of 21 teenagers.
• At the Hebrew University bombing (2002), nine were killed, including American students.

By the early 2000s, hundreds of Israeli civilians had been killed in suicide bombings. For Israelis, daily life became a constant state of alert. Ordinary activities — riding a bus, eating in a café, or sending a child to school — carried real danger.

Hamas justified these attacks as “resistance,” while Israel viewed them as terrorism designed to destroy peace efforts.

The Decision to Build the Wall

In 2002, amid the peak of the Second Intifada, Israel began constructing the security barrier — a combination of concrete walls, fences, and checkpoints — along the West Bank. The stated goal was simple: to stop suicide bombers and other infiltrations from Palestinian territories into Israeli cities.

The wall was — and still is — controversial.
For Israel, it was a defensive necessity that saved lives. After its construction, suicide bombings dropped by more than 90%. For Palestinians, however, it represented occupation and separation, cutting them off from farmland, workplaces, and family on the other side. The wall physically entrenched a psychological divide that had already existed for decades.

The Gaza Factor and Hamas’s Rise to Power

While the wall focused on the West Bank, Gaza was undergoing its own transformation. After years of pressure and violence, Israel withdrew from Gaza in 2005, removing settlements and military presence. The expectation was that Palestinians would take this opportunity to build a functioning, peaceful society.

Instead, political infighting erupted between Hamas and Fatah — the dominant Palestinian political faction led by Mahmoud Abbas. In 2007, Hamas violently seized control of Gaza, expelling Fatah forces and establishing a de facto Islamist government.

From that moment, Gaza’s relationship with Israel changed completely. Hamas began developing rocket capabilities, importing weapons, and digging tunnels under the border to carry out attacks or smuggle goods. The nature of the threat shifted from suicide bombings to indiscriminate rocket fire targeting southern Israel.

Towns like Sderot, Ashkelon, and Be’er Sheva faced years of rocket attacks. Israel responded with airstrikes and, on several occasions, full-scale military operations — each causing widespread destruction in Gaza and significant civilian casualties.

The Human Cost

Both sides have suffered immensely.
For Israelis, the threat from Gaza remains constant — alarms, shelters, and the fear of sudden attacks are part of daily life.
For Palestinians in Gaza, life is defined by poverty, unemployment, and blockades that restrict movement and trade. Thousands of civilians have been killed or displaced in repeated conflicts.

Hamas continues to reject Israel’s right to exist and invests heavily in military infrastructure — rockets, tunnels, and paramilitary forces — while ordinary Gazans struggle to access clean water, electricity, and healthcare.

Israel, for its part, argues that the blockade is a necessary security measure to prevent Hamas from rearming. Critics, including human rights groups, counter that it amounts to collective punishment and fuels further resentment.

A Cycle Without End

The wall did succeed in its primary purpose — it stopped most terrorist infiltrations into Israel. Yet, it also reinforced the sense of division, mistrust, and hopelessness between the two peoples. Hamas’s control over Gaza has created a political stalemate: Israel refuses to negotiate with a group committed to its destruction, while Hamas uses Israel’s restrictions to rally anger and support among Palestinians.

Every few years, the cycle repeats: rocket attacks, Israeli airstrikes, and devastating humanitarian crises. Each side claims victory; neither side wins peace.

Conclusion: Fear and Freedom

The story of Hamas, Israel, and the wall is not simply about terrorism or defense — it is about fear and survival, two emotions that dominate the landscape of the Middle East.
Israel built a wall because it felt it had no other choice. Hamas attacks because it believes violence is the only path to freedom. Between them are millions of people — Israelis and Palestinians — who simply want to live ordinary lives.

In the end, walls may stop bombers, but they cannot build trust. The challenge for both sides remains the same as it was before the first stone was laid: to find a way to balance security and justice, defense and dignity, fear and hope — the hardest balance of all.

So, why do nearly everybody criticize Israel for what they are doing in Gaza?

When Defense Becomes a Crime: A Double Standard in How the World Sees War

Today, it seems nearly every news outlet is focused on criticizing Israel for civilian casualties in Gaza. Headlines scream about women and children killed, often implying moral failure or injustice. And yet, when we look back at modern history, we see a striking pattern: war almost always claims innocent lives, no matter who is involved.

Take the 1999 NATO bombing of Yugoslavia. During 78 days of airstrikes, hundreds of civilians were killed, including children. The death of three-year-old Milica Rakić in her home in Batajnica became emblematic of the human cost of war. Serbia now has memorials, statues, and ceremonies honoring the children who died. Dozens of names are remembered publicly as a symbol of lives lost during the campaign. Cluster munitions, unexploded ordnance, and indiscriminate bombing caused these deaths — the same tragic consequences we lament in other conflicts today.

NATO was acting in what it claimed to be defense and stabilization, yet civilian casualties were inevitable. And yet, when similar actions are taken by other nations in their own defense, the global narrative often shifts. Israel, for example, builds walls and conducts targeted operations against groups like Hamas, whose own record includes attacks on civilians and using human shields. Israel emphasizes its right to protect its citizens from terrorism, just as NATO justified its actions in Serbia and elsewhere. But public opinion and media framing frequently focus only on one side of the equation.

The pattern is not new. History is full of wars where civilians suffered while the aggressors were vilified and the defenders celebrated — or vice versa, depending on perspective. What often changes is the narrative: who tells the story, which victims are remembered, and which are ignored. In Serbia, memorials commemorate the children killed by NATO; in Israel, civilians caught in crossfire are highlighted in international media. Both are real tragedies. Both are consequences of war.

At the heart of this is human nature. When a society or individual is threatened, defense is instinctive. If harm persists, measures escalate. Walls are built. Armies act. Lives are lost. History shows repeatedly that the morality of defense is complicated by the inevitability of collateral damage. Civilian deaths are always tragic, yet they are not always evidence of moral failure — often, they are evidence of the harsh realities of conflict.

The lesson is clear: to truly understand war and peace, we must look honestly at all sides. Criticism must be proportional, and we must remember that war does not spare innocence. Nations act to survive; civilians sometimes pay the price. Recognizing this complexity is not the same as justification — it is acknowledgment of reality.

If the global community wishes to promote peace, it must do so consistently. Selective outrage, when only certain wars or victims are highlighted, distorts understanding and prevents meaningful solutions. Every civilian life lost, whether in Serbia, Gaza, Iraq, or elsewhere, deserves remembrance. Every act of defense, every effort to protect citizens, deserves careful analysis.

War is tragic, complex, and unavoidable in human history. Only by recognizing its patterns, learning from them, and holding ourselves to consistent moral standards can we hope to reduce suffering and approach a more peaceful world.