The images have been horrible. The facts as they are known are both heartbreaking and enraging. The humanitarian organization World Central Kitchen, which has been delivering food in Gaza, reported that seven of its aid workers have been killed by an Israeli attack late Monday. Those who died came from all over the world — European, Australian, Palestinian and North American — and were focused on bringing help to those who were suffering. In its short history, World Central Kitchen seems to be everywhere there is devastation. It was in Israel after the Oct. 7 attack by Hamas, in which Israeli civilians were killed and terrorized. It had come to Gaza as the civilian population teetered on the brink of starvation.
Israeli officials released statements taking responsibility for the deadly attack. In a video, a spokesman for the Israel Defense Forces, Daniel Hagari, described the mission of the World Central Kitchen as “noble.” He euphemistically referred to the killings as an “incident”; he offered condolences to the victims’ families and co-workers from the IDF. Hagari assured anyone watching that he also had expressed “sincere sorrow” to allied nations and that “we will get to the bottom of this and we will share our findings transparently.”
But Hagari did not say that he was sorry. Not personally, but not even as a representative of his country’s “professional military.”
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu also referred to the tragedy as an “incident” and noted that Israeli forces had “unintentionally hit innocent people.” Netanyahu didn’t mention World Central Kitchen. He left the victims almost vaporous. He made his video statement as he was leaving the hospital after having hernia surgery and after reassuring those listening that he’d continued to work even from his sick bed.
He didn’t apologize for the deaths, either. He didn’t say he was sorry that this distinct group of innocent people had been killed in a horrific manner that, in some cases, left their body in pieces.
Perhaps one is not allowed to apologize for actions during a war. If one started, where would one end? Perhaps it would paint a leader as weak. With so much devastation, pain and loss, the idea that the words “I’m sorry” are worth anything at all may simply be naive. But maybe they have value in hindsight.
In war, there’s inevitable confusion, the fog. This war, like most recent ones, has no front line. In this war, Israel has said Hamas hides amid civilians, in neighborhoods and hospitals; and the death toll has been unfathomable. Israel has a right to defend itself; civilians have a right to live. Pray for the hostages; pray for the Palestinians. People have dedicated their entire professional lives to studying this war, which didn’t begin on Oct. 7 but only reignited. It has been simmering and erupting over and over for generations. Wise statesmen and ambitious fools have tried to find a pathway out of this violence. In this chapter, about 1,200 people were killed in Israel and more than 100 remain as hostages in Gaza. More than 31,000 people have been killed in Gaza, according to the Gaza Health Ministry.
What can “I’m sorry” do? It’s a bit like a seed being left on scorched earth; maybe it’ll grow into something. It’s a moral marker that just might help a person find a way back to their full humanity after the bloodshed. Vengeance, no matter how righteous, can take a toll.
With the killing of the aid workers, there is no fog. Netanyahu has called them “innocent.” He has not suggested that they were in some way duplicitous. The workers’ vehicles were marked as belonging to World Central Kitchen, with the roofs bearing the insignia of the aid organization. How did this happen? Israeli officials have promised to investigate until they have answers so they can do their best to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.
In listening to the statements, there is a sense that the speakers are attempting to offer something of value to those who knew the victims, to an international community that’s outraged by their deaths. In the midst of an almost incomprehensible scale of suffering that Israeli officials view as part of the cost of a just war, these seven dead stand out because their work has been cast as selfless, their loyalties only to mercy and grace, and their mission undisputed. By giving condolences, Israeli officials demonstrated that they care. They acknowledged their culpability — in this case. Those words have a modest value now, the same as the euphemisms and vagaries and the sanitizing of the “incident.”
Someday the war will stop. Perhaps it will be won — however those left standing might define victory. It has been a long time since any country was able to hoist its flag high after tremendous bloodshed and feel pride without exception. Perhaps the war will return to a simmer, one in which people continue to live in fear and misery, as well as stubborn hope. A new chapter will begin.
“I’m sorry” is not a gift to the people who’ve been hurt. It’s a reminder to those who have caused the tragedy that they continue to have the capacity for regret. They can still feel the pain of someone outside their most intimate circles. They can weep for a loss that isn’t their own. An unconditional apology is a lifeline to one’s own humanity — in the worst of circumstances and in the most difficult times.
The words may mean nothing during the darkest days. But when people start to feel their way forward, those words may be one of the few flashes of light that allow them to suss out where they’re going and where they have been. And exactly what the world has seen.
