Israeli voices from the Gaza border

It seems as though Hamas is itching for another war.

In recent days, no less than 45 rockets were fired from the Gaza Strip into Israel. Two of them landed near a community center, and one just outside a kindergarten — the second attack on a kindergarten in the last few weeks.

Operatives also launched scores of balloons and kites bearing Molotov cocktails, firebombs, chemicals and other incendiary devices. So far, these seemingly innocuous instruments have destroyed more than 7,000 acres of agricultural fields, natural growth and habitation, leading to extreme environmental devastation and an estimated $2 million worth of damage.

We have heard a great deal about the suffering of Gazans under the ironclad rule of Hamas. It is absolutely tragic that the Hamas leadership has denied the population the opportunity to develop the region, and insists on using its people as living artillery in a war to obliterate the Jewish state. It is absolutely tragic that the textbooks used by UNRWA are ideological propaganda screeds that serve to perpetuate the 1948 conflict, rather than teach children fundamental skills to better themselves. It is absolutely tragic that Hamas has siphoned off funds and building equipment, using civilian concrete to build more underground tunnels from which to launch surprise attacks in Israel proper.

But one never hears of the suffering of the Israelis living near the border. In Israel, I spoke to several of them.

Adele Reimer, an English teacher who made aliyah from America in 1975, lives in Kibbutz Nirim, near the Gaza Strip. She spoke to me about the “relentless, ongoing stress.”

“It is not fair to call this post-traumatic stress syndrome,” she said. “It is a daily, ongoing stress. Our children suffer from nightmares, bedwetting, refusal to go to bed at night, crawling into bed with parents. Many children, and even some adults, are immobilized with fear and refuse to leave the house. Every Friday, we brace ourselves. We hear the Tzeva Adom [Red Alert warning siren] several times a day, and we don’t know if it’s a missile coming to our house, to our school or signaling the beginning of yet another war.

“I have tremendous sympathy for the people of Gaza,” she added. “Nobody elected Hamas as their leaders. It came about because of a hostile takeover in 2007, when they threw their opposition off from rooftops. I consider myself left-wing and am still in touch with many Gazans. They are miserable under Hamas and would like it to change, but it is dangerous for them to open their mouths. I have one friend who has spoken out occasionally, but I and he are both afraid he is about to be arrested, tortured and shot.”

But, she says, it is Hamas who is calling the shots — not only for the people of Gaza, but for the State of Israel. “They have manipulated international community to such an extent, so we are perplexed as to how to respond. We care too much about international public opinion.”

Susie Shaul was evacuated from Gush Katif in 2005. Her husband spent the bulk of his working life, 27 years, in agriculture, developing greenhouse crops. After the evacuation, they and their two unmarried children moved into a caravan. She and her husband now live in the Ashkelon region.

Shaul feels that the situation is beyond tragic. Before the evacuation, she remembered, when she drove down the roads that bordered kibbutzim on her way to Gush Katif, there would be signs posted saying: “Jews, out of Gaza. Go home to Israel.” But today, she only feels tremendous sympathy for the untold devastation suffered by those who live on the kibbutzim.

“They don’t deserve this. Nobody deserves this.”

She recalled that before the evacuation from Gaza, former Prime Minister Ariel Sharon said, “Now if they attack, we can go in there and devastate them. We can use our rockets and our missiles. But do you think we can today? Nobody remembers. Nobody cares.”

Sarah N. Stern is founder and president of the Endowment for Middle East Truth, an unabashedly pro-Israel think tank and policy institute in Washington.