October 8th, Once Again
Since that terrible day—October 7th—an idea has been circulating, one that captures the true depth of the horror we witnessed.
While the massacre itself was a world-shattering tragedy, the kind that shapes generations, what followed on October 8th was, in some ways, even more disturbing.
"October 8th changed my mind more than October 7th did," the saying sometimes goes.
Because it wasn’t just the slaughter, the burning of children, the systematic rape, the destruction of entire families. It was the response. The way millions of people around the world cheered for the perpetrators. The realization that the only thing more shocking than the massacre itself was the fact that so many were genuinely happy about it.
And today, I feel something similar.
It isn’t just that Palestinian terrorists and civilians—yes, civilians—kidnapped, murdered, and then paraded the bodies of a four-year-old and a nine-month-old baby in what can only be described as a satanic death ritual.
It’s that they celebrated it.
The sight of those coffins displayed on a stage beneath a grotesque banner depicting Netanyahu as a vampire—an obscene attempt to shift blame onto Israel—while crowds of women and children wept for joy, while celebratory music played in the background, is one of the most depraved spectacles the world has ever seen.
It was so vile that even the UN—a cesspool of moral corruption—felt compelled to condemn it. And the ICRC, those glorified chauffeurs for terrorists, appeared visibly uncomfortable for the first time, as if suddenly realizing the horror of what they were participating in.
People cannot believe what they are seeing. Because how do you even begin to process the kind of evil it takes to murder a baby, keep the corpse for over a year as a bargaining chip, and then parade it through the streets?
Tell me—when in human history has anything like this ever happened? You can’t.
Because what today made undeniably clear is that Israel and the Jewish people are facing something beyond mere hatred, beyond mere political conflict. As Seth Mandel so aptly put it, this is an anti-civilizational evil.
If there’s one thing I hope for today—aside from poor Yarden Bibas finding some sliver of peace, impossible as it may be—it’s that we never forget this feeling.
They say time heals all wounds. But this wound should never heal.
I don’t want to forget the rage, the sorrow, the heartbreak, and the clarity. May we never grow complacent in the face of evil. May we never accept its presence at our doorstep. May we never forgive, and may we never forget.
Rest in peace, sweet Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir.