After serving in a combat unit for my initial military service, I used all the connections I could to get into the IDF Spokesman’s Unit for my reserve duty.
I credit the late great Raanan Gissin for getting me into the prestigious unit, where I hoped to use my skills and experience as a journalist to help Israel against its enemies.
But I didn’t get called up for a fight against Israel’s enemies. I got drafted at the outset of Israel’s withdrawal from Gaza and, perhaps, a fight of Jew against Jew.
We were stationed at Kibbutz Mefalsim, which would be attacked mercilessly 18 years later by Hamas terrorists on October 7, 2023. We waited to be brought into Gaza.
We came at night and were told to find somewhere to sleep. There were tents of journalists and activists throughout the Gush Katif bloc of settlements.
I was tired, so I went into the first tent I saw to see if it was available. Surprisingly, the person inside knew me. It was Kevin Peraino, a respected journalist covering the Gaza withdrawal for Newsweek. I attended college at Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism with Kevin, who graciously hosted me at his tent.
The Spokesman’s Unit assigned us to accompany top journalists as they reported on the disengagement and help them understand the “who, what, when, and where.” But not the “why,” which was for the government to explain.
I had the honor of taking around a journalist from the New York Times together with a reporter from Fox News. One would think that combination would not be such a good idea, due to the stark political differences between the media outlets.
But it turned out that the journalists were married – and 20 years later, they still are: Jennifer Griffin of Fox (now their chief national security correspondent) and Greg Myre of the Times (now with National Public Radio). Opposites attract, sometimes, I suppose.
Mother from Gush Katif: 'Remember my baby’s eyes'
We spent most of our time in the Gush Katif settlement of Morag, close to Khan Yunis. As the IDF evacuated people from their homes, I translated what the residents were saying to the Hebrew journalists.
In one of the most dramatic moments of the disengagement, a woman held up her baby to the soldiers’ faces.
“Remember my baby’s eyes,” the mother told the soldiers in Hebrew, as cameras rolled. “You will never forget the eyes of my child, whom you are taking away from home.”
On the 10th anniversary of the evacuation, TV channels looked back on the disengagement and broadcast the clip of that haunting scene. I was shocked to hear my own voice translating the mother’s words.
I don’t know if the soldiers remember the baby or whether the baby is in the IDF now, fighting in Gaza near Morag. But I have never forgotten the baby’s eyes.
After the Morag evacuation, I returned home to Jerusalem for Tisha B’Av, and attended the service at the Orthodox Union. I’ve attended the same service almost every year since 1995, but never before in a uniform, which I wore because I returned to my unit right after the service.
I felt very strange wearing the uniform in a crowd of mostly right-wing Jerusalem Anglos, who undoubtedly were skeptical and critical of the withdrawal decision. As the political correspondent for The Jerusalem Post, I had never publicly expressed a political opinion, and I felt that my uniform may have expressed a stance in the eyes of the people around me, who could not have known that I did not carry out the withdrawal.
The entire evacuation took only six days, which significantly shortened the time I expected to take off from covering politics. (In a subsequent election, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu told me in a videotaped interview that he voted against the Gaza withdrawal, even though I had watched him vote for it at the Knesset, time after time.)
Two months later, I went on a speaking tour in the US, talking about my experiences and the violence between Jew and Jew that had been successfully avoided. I spoke about the hopes expressed by the politicians for a brighter day for Gaza.
Coming full circle 20 years later
I was reminded of this last year, when I came to Michigan to speak at Temple Shir Shalom in West Bloomfield, Michigan. As I arrived, I had an odd feeling that I had been there before. Rabbi Michael Moskowitz greeted me at the door and said: “Gil Hoffman, the last time you were here, 18 years ago, you told us that Israeli politicians said Gaza could become the Singapore of the Mediterranean! What happened?”
The rabbi’s memory was very impressive. Normally, it’s the jokes and stories from lectures that are remembered, not the details of a talk. But I guess that especially poor prediction stood out.
Looking back, those politicians were obviously wrong. Two years later, Hamas overthrew Gaza’s leadership – literally, by throwing them off the top of buildings to the street below – and started building up Gaza as the ultimate fortress of terror.
Recently, I returned to Gaza to see what was happening there ahead of a speaking tour for HonestReporting. I saw how 80% of the homes had some kind of terror infrastructure; it was closer to 100% at schools, hospitals, cemeteries, and mosques.
That visit made me understand why a lengthy war was necessary for Israel’s long-term security, and why successes on the media battlefield were needed to sustain it.
I don’t wear a uniform nowadays, but in my current role, I do fight for Israel against its enemies in Gaza. Twenty years later, I feel I’ve come full circle.
The writer is the executive director and executive editor of the pro-Israel media watchdog HonestReporting. He served as The Jerusalem Post’s chief political correspondent and analyst for 24 years.