What Would My Father Say About Gaza, Antisemitism, And Jewish Courage?

A Soldier’s Resolve, a Peacemaker’s Heart

If my father, Yoram Hamizrachi East, were here today, he’d greet the Israel-Hamas war with the same unflinching honesty that defined his life. A paratrooper who fought in Jerusalem in 1967, a journalist who covered the Yom Kippur War, and Israel’s first commander of the South Lebanon Security Belt, he understood both the cost of war and the fragility of peace. He believed in dialogue, advised Canadian foreign ministers on counterterrorism, and lectured at mosques and universities, but never confused empathy with naiveté.

He would grieve for every life lost, Israeli and Palestinian, but reject the false equivalence that haunts today’s discourse. “You cannot make peace with those who seek your annihilation,” he told me after a Hamas bombing in the 1990s. He’d condemn Hamas’ atrocities on October 7 as evil, not as “resistance,” and he’d remind us that Israel’s right to defend itself is not negotiable.

Antisemitism: The Oldest Hatred, the Newest Threat

My father would be appalled, but not surprised, by the explosion of antisemitism we see today, from university campuses to city streets. He saw firsthand how hatred festers when Jews are divided or complacent. In Winnipeg, he fought for justice not just for Jews but for all newcomers, exposing corruption and standing up for the vulnerable. He’d urge our community to speak out, to build alliances, and to refuse to be cowed by bigotry.

He would call out those who, in the name of “anti-Zionism,” excuse violence against Jews and Israelis. He’d say: “If you cannot see the difference between criticizing a government and denying a people’s right to exist, you are not a critic, you are an accomplice to hate.”

Jewish Unity and Zionist Identity: No Apologies

Above all, my father would call on us to strengthen our Zionist identity, not as a slogan, but as a living commitment. He’d remind us that Zionism is about self-determination, resilience, and the duty to care for one another. He’d point to the ambulance campaign in his memory, sending lifesaving help to Israel’s north, as the kind of action that honors both our heritage and our future.

He was blunt, sometimes controversial, but always passionate about truth and justice. He challenged Israeli leaders, yes, but never wavered in his defense of Israel’s right to exist, to thrive, and to defend itself. He’d urge us to reject the false choice between loving Israel and loving peace; real Zionism means striving for both, even when it’s hard.

The Lesson for Today

As we face war and rising hate, my father’s message is clear: Stand together. Defend Israel. Be proud, be vigilant, and never forget who we are. Jewish unity is not weakness, it is our greatest strength. Zionism is not a dirty word, it is the story of our survival and our hope.

He would not be silent in the face of slander, nor would he tolerate those who would divide us from within. He’d remind us that the world respects Jews who respect themselves, who know their history, and who refuse to apologize for their existence.

In his memory, and for the sake of our children, let us answer hate with unity, confusion with clarity, and despair with hope. Am Yisrael Chai, the people of Israel live.

Scathing Rebuttal to Bernie Bellan’s Article

Bernie Bellan’s recent reflections on my late father, Yoram Hamizrachi East, are a fascinating exercise in nostalgia, but they miss the mark entirely on what my father stood for and what he would say in this moment of crisis.

To portray my father as merely an “iconoclast” who relished in challenging “accepted dogma” is to reduce a life of service, sacrifice, and Zionist conviction to a caricature. Yes, my father was willing to debate, to question, and even to provoke. But never-never did he waver in his core belief: that Israel’s existence is non-negotiable, that Jewish unity is paramount, and that our enemies must never be appeased.

Bellan suggests that today’s Jewish leaders are somehow betraying my father’s legacy by defending Israel without apology, or by refusing to give a platform to those who cross the line from criticism to delegitimization. But my father knew the difference between honest critique and the kind of toxic anti-Zionism that now masquerades as “progressive” thought. He would have zero patience for those who, in the name of “open-mindedness,” excuse or ignore the murder of Jews, the burning of synagogues, or the calls for Israel’s destruction.

The world has changed since my father debated the “question askers” in Winnipeg. The threats we face are not theoretical, they are existential. The Jewish Federation’s defense of our community is not “silence,” as Bellan claims, but moral clarity. When Jewish students are hounded on campus, when mobs chant “Death to the Jews” in the streets, when Hamas slaughters families in their homes, this is not the time for equivocation. This is the time for unity, courage, and an unshakable embrace of our Zionist identity.

My father was not afraid to criticize Israeli leaders, but he never forgot who the real enemies were. He fought for Jerusalem, he rescued Ethiopian Jews, he advised on counterterrorism, always with the understanding that Jewish survival depends on strength, vigilance, and pride.

To those who invoke his name to justify appeasement, division, or weakness, I say: You did not know my father. He would have stood with us now, as he always did with Israel, with the Jewish people, and with the unbreakable conviction that Am Yisrael Chai.

In memory of my father, Yoram Hamizrachi East: soldier, journalist, builder, and proud Zionist. May his legacy guide us to clarity, unity, and courage in these challenging times.