Poetic justice for the Satan of Oct. 7
Iris Haim, whose son was among the three hostages killed by “friendly fire,” hails the brigade behind the tragic error for eliminating Yahya Sinwar.
By Ruthie Blum
JNS
Oct 21, 2024
Iris Haim
The mother of Yotam Haim—who was mistakenly killed by Israel Defense Forces soldiers from the 828th “Bislach” Brigade while he, Alon Shamriz and Samer Fouad Talalka were in the process of escaping from Hamas captivity—has again exhibited the kind of spiritual superiority to which the rest of us rarely aspire, let alone achieve.
On Thursday, Iris Haim posted a voice message in the brigade’s WhatsApp group to express her gratitude for their elimination of the architect of the Oct. 7, 2023 massacre.
“Exactly 10 months ago, I told you to keep fighting and not to [carry any guilt for the incident], because we need you healthy and whole …. Today, you did what we’ve all been waiting for, you saved us and continue to save us, the people of Israel. You killed Yahya Sinwar. I am proud of you. Still, of course, I am in pain and sad, but together with all that, I am so, so proud of our soldiers. I love you; I hug you from afar; and I say, ‘Just keep going.’”
She reiterated the sentiment on social media.
“It’s a bit hard to say what I’m feeling right now,” she wrote. “On Dec. 15, [2023], 10 months and two days ago, it was Bislach Battalion 17 of Givati, the School for Commanders—today it was Battalion 450. Now, I received the news by chance, through the internet. This time—celebration and joy. Then—shock and disbelief. How the wheel turns [comes full circle] … Kudos to our heroic soldiers. Keep going. I told you this exactly 10 months ago! I’m saying it again now.”
She was referring to one of the most tragic incidents of the Swords of Iron war: when 20-something hostages Yotam, Alon and Samer—shirtless and waving makeshift white flags—were mis-identified as terrorists and shot by the very troops fighting to find and rescue them.
While the entire State of Israel went into mourning over the horrific error, the young men responsible suffered unfathomable guilt and grief. There’s no doubt that they still replay the scene in their minds over and over, wishing to replace its devastating conclusion with a happy ending—one in which the three captives were escorted back home to their traumatized families.
When the identity of the trio was released for publication, the whole country emitted an additional gasp. By this point, Iris Haim had become a household name for her many TV and radio interviews urging for national unity.
Recounting stories about Yotam, a drummer and delicate soul with anxiety issues, she repeatedly said that internecine battles only serve to weaken the country during its defensive war. She also stressed that though she hadn’t voted for the current government, she needed it to be strong for all concerned.
Certain members of the protest camp, which took advantage of the plight of the families of the hostages to demand that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his coalition resign, reacted poorly to Iris’s appeals, going as far as to remove Yotam’s photo from posters of the 250 captives held by Hamas. But most Israelis were, and still are, sympathetic.
Beyond that—they admire her ability to set aside politics and blame Hamas exclusively for what befell even her own child, from the moment of his being carted away into Gaza on that fateful Black Sabbath by gleeful terrorists to the minute of his death at the hands of fellow Israelis.
This is no easy feat, given the surrounding cacophony on the part of activists pointing the finger at the powers-that-be in Jerusalem. Yet she managed to remain graceful and gracious through her tears, including after being informed of the manner in which Yotam lost his life.
Grasping the impossible situation on the asymmetrical battlefield—with a military that abides by international laws of war confronting Iran-backed, Sinwar-led terrorists above and below ground—Iris knew in her heart that the boys behind the “friendly fire” must have believed they were facing the enemy. She also clearly understood that they would never forgive themselves.
As a result, despite the depths of her loss, within a few days of the awful event, she sent a recording to their unit.
“Hello to Brigade 7828 Bislach Battalion 17, this is Iris Haim,” she said. “I am Yotam’s mother. I wanted to tell you that I love you very much and I’m hugging you from afar. I know that everything that happened wasn’t your fault at all; it was no one’s fault except for Hamas, may their name and memory be erased from the face of the earth.”
She then extended an invitation.
“At the first opportunity, you are welcome to come to visit us … We want to see you with our own eyes, to embrace you and tell you that what you did, as painful and sad as it is to say such a thing, was probably the right thing to do at that moment. None of us is judging you or angry—not me, not my husband, Raviv, not my daughter, Noya, not Yotam of blessed memory, and not Tuval, Yotam’s brother. We love you very much, and that’s all.”
Nothing can erase the sorrow of the Haim clan or of the guys from Bislach. But there is some comfort in the poetic—or divine—justice that led the latter to Sinwar’s location.
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