We're Champions at Repression': Israel Air Force Pilots Open Up About the Moral Dilemmas of the Gaza War
Haaretz
By Itay Mashiach and Ran Shimoni
Apr 17, 2025 11:41 pm IDT
Last week, the Israel Defense Forces assassinated the commander of Hamas' Shujaiyeh battalion. The air strike hit a four-story building and killed around 40 people, most of them women and children, according to reports. Sources in the Gaza Strip said that eight adjacent houses were damaged, and that among the dead were 15 members of a single family. According to the IDF Spokesperson's Unit, this was the third Shujaiyeh battalion commander to be taken out since the war began. In the meantime, his replacement has been killed as well.
The morning after the attack, the pilots' letter was released. It called on Israel to do all it can to bring about the release of all of the hostages, even if that means ending the war. In its early drafts, the letter's tone was much more aggressive, but moderating forces among the signatories prevailed, and the final version was kept well within the bounds of the national consensus. Nevertheless, the initiative of the pilot signatories, most of them in the reserves, caused a rift within the Israel Air Force, one that has quickly broadened to other IDF units. "The continuation of the war," they wrote, "will cause the deaths of hostages, IDF troops and innocent civilians." It seems as though the mention of innocent civilians was an act no less subversive than the call to stop the war. It sparked tremendous arguments among the initiators of the letter; some refused to sign it because of it.
Others insisted on the centrality of the issue, and complained that the wording was too neutral, not biting enough. "We're killing innocent people in Gaza, and people are silent," one of the initiators said to us during the interview. The tumult caused by the letter raised an opportunity to ask the pilots themselves about those innocent non-combatants killed over the past year and a half. Are they as marginal in the pilots' consciousness as they are in the public consciousness, or do they have the power to widen the fissure within the air force?
Interviews we conducted with active members of the air force – pilots, drone operators, air support officers and officers in the "pit," the military command center in Tel Aviv – brought to light their thoughts and positions on the moral dilemma at the heart of their service. These questions aren't new: "The world wasn't created on October 7," one of the pilots told us. But in the face of the ongoing nature of the war and the scope of the killing, they are more burning than ever. And they are indeed the subject of an ongoing discussion within the force. Some of the airmen interviewed spoke of difficult feelings, of dealing with a real dilemma and contemplating whether they should continue to serve. Others made clear that the current situation is valid in their view, albeit unfortunate. They explained that the broad harm caused to innocent civilians on the Palestinian side is a product of the cruel statistics of combat in a complex battlefield in which the enemy hides among the civilian population.
In all of the conversations, the moral dilemma was connected to the question of the legitimacy of the war and of the government running it. The cracks widen each other: the lack of faith in the war's righteousness and the sincerity of its goals is undermining the core justification for inflicting harm on innocent civilians. The widespread sense that the hostages have been abandoned most starkly underscores this lack of confidence. "When I leave the Kirya [the military headquarters in Tel Aviv] through Begin Gate," says a lieutenant colonel serving in the pit, "I feel more morally connected to Einav Zangauker [the mother of a hostage and a leader of a daily protest at Begin Gate] than to the system – from the government down."
From the conversations, it emerges that the air strike apparatus works in a way that easily obscures the full picture – including the consequences of a bombing – from those involved in the various stages of an operation. "I don't want to insult the guys in the cockpits, but a pilot today can't know what he's bombing," says a retired pilot who served in the current war as an air support officer in one of the brigades deployed in Gaza. "It's unpleasant to say, but pilots today are porters. No one lets them know about innocent civilians."
Members of the air force who aren't directly involved in strikes on Gaza admitted in interviews that they were glad that they were spared having to confront this information, and that they made efforts to stay away from the issue. "Why burden the soul with things I'm not sure I can bear?" one of them said. But we should listen to those who are bearing it. Last week, some of them warned in the pilots' letter that the situation is shaky. The dozens of fresh bodies that were buried that morning in Shujaiyeh attest to that as well.
'I have very little trust in the government. But I still have trust in the military'
R. is an F-16 pilot in the reserves. "After October 7 there was a very strong feeling of the rightness of our path, including some very difficult things we were required to do," he says. "The feeling now is very different, at least for me. Other people come to the squadron and put all [other considerations] aside."
Is it a matter of political opinion? That those who support the government necessarily feel alright with the missions?
"That's not the division. There are also pilots who support the government and have a gut feeling – you know, the question of the purpose of all this. That question is not political at all."
Compared to soldiers in the land army, a pilot's sortie has more far-reaching consequences. If he doesn't understand where this thing is heading, how does he cope?
"I have very little trust in the government. But I still have trust in the military, and especially in the air force. I know the people who choose the targets, who calculate the collateral damage and decide the level of collateral damage. Without that trust I wouldn't fly a single sortie. In the end I go home with the things I was involved in, for good and for bad, and I have to live with it. It also has an impact on the next time I will report for duty."
Is there place for you to express criticism about a target you've been given?
"I have professional questions, but the knowledge of exactly what I am attacking is very limited. Let's say I'm told that it's a ranking [Hamas] figure who's in an apartment – it might be a 14-year-old who rose through the ranks rapidly in the past year. Nor do I have any way of knowing whether the apartment is empty of non-combatants or not.
But I rely on my buddies in the Kirya, whose task this is. I have to trust that the person who's responsible for choosing the target, for calculating the collateral damage and for [selecting] the type of munition, is doing it the best he can. It's possible that someone decided that they can get along with collateral damage of up to 10 civilians, and I don't live well with that. But that is exactly the trust that I have to decide about in advance, before I arrive. I can't critique it in the squadron."
What happens at home?
"There's always the friction with my wife, which from my point of view I need to avoid. From her point of view, I shouldn't go. From her point of view, this event [the war] has long since played itself out. Simultaneously, you get a message that the squadron needs people in the week ahead and I need to schedule myself, to decide that I'll go again next week, too."
Have there been times when you got home, watched the news, and asked yourself: "What have I done?"
"I don't know if those are the right words. Sometimes there's a feeling of pain and sorrow. As it happens, I've seen quite a few attacks; in some [cases] you sit in the squadron, go through the images, and one frame before the bomb explodes you see an old man with a donkey cart passing by in the next street over. No one intended it; on the other hand, it was taken into account that this could happen, and to our regret it happened.
"Does it feel alright? No. Does it make me say that I won't show up anymore? Also no. Even if 90 percent of the war's purpose is Bibi's attempt to hold onto power, in the end there are soldiers below who are waiting for air cover, and I'm going to be there to help them. But it's being eroded, that feeling. The commander of the air force writes in response to the letter [of reserve pilots] that it's not legitimate to be critical of a war that you're taking part in – but how is that not legitimate? There are people whose trust in the whole system is affected by that [response]."
Do you have a red line?
"It's very hard to answer that. Obviously, I can still go to the squadron, say 'Good morning' and receive the assignment – I've done it a thousand times. But the feeling in your gut is growing sour. When I get up in the morning and decide that I'm not doing it anymore, I'm not sure it will happen because of a specific attack, but rather because of an accumulation of feelings that it's no longer appropriate for me to keep inside."
Are there people who are thinking of ceasing to fly?
"Sure. There are people for whom this is a daily dilemma from their point of view. This subject of trust in the system disturbs their sleep nightly."
For them, is the significant factor the duration of the fighting, or the casting off of restraint in regard to the war?
"I would assess that it's a combination. There's a general feeling of purposelessness in the fighting. Why am I harming others – for a true operational purpose? A political purpose? In addition, there's the question of trust in the leadership. From their point of view, if the commander of the air force reacts that way to the letter, maybe there's something rotten in the whole chain. Just like we see what's happening in the police force, no one said that it can't reach the army. There are people for whom this [question] lies at the heart of the sense of personal morality."
To what extent are these conversations held among the members of the squadron?
"It's complicated. There are people I feel comfortable talking with, and people I will not talk to. In the period of the protest [in 2023] there was preoccupation with this all the time in official forums – the squadron split into two. Today, maybe as a lesson from what happened on October 7, there's no desire to deal with this in the army. In the squadron we will not talk about the crisis of trust in the government."
And after a mission that generates uncomfortable feelings, is there anyone to talk to about it?
"It happens. I had a sortie with a difficult result from both the operational aspect and the damage aspect, and I talked about it. It weighed on me."
Because the mission wasn't carried out the way it should have been, or because of what happened on the ground in the wake of your bombing?
"Because people died who apparently should not have died, and I was part of that. Maybe I could have prevented it and maybe not. In cases in which there was something I could have done differently, it's very disturbing."
Maj. G. serves in operational headquarters, the "Pit," and his task is to prepare the "target bank" and to oversee the attacks. "We are engaged in everything related to that, from intelligence all the way to the attack, down to the information that's received after the attack," he explains.
What's the discourse in the Pit about the exceptional scale of the harm to civilians in this war?
"After October 7, it was clear that the whole criterion of innocent people in Gaza had changed. It was clear that we were now in far greater danger, and therefore we also needed to be far more aggressive. I think that there was truly agreement on that. If during the previous rounds in Gaza we aspired to a situation of zero casualties among noncombatants, after October 7 we were ready to endanger more innocent civilians in every attack in order to achieve the goal.
"That was because we truly saw a possibility, especially at the start, of the country also being attacked from the north, and there was great apprehension. After that, I'm afraid to say, it just became more acute. We got used to it. We got used to the idea that in Gaza, this is what's done. It's natural. You do things, repeat them, it becomes the norm."
But didn't the penny drop at any stage? Wasn't anyone jolted by the number of people killed?
"I can't speak for others. I can say that it bothers me a great deal. I feel that the air force lost its professionalism. Its professionalism is not to harm innocent people, unless there is no choice. I feel that what is happening is disproportionate, that the number of those killed is astronomical and that this is a stain on the air force and on the State of Israel."
How many people in the Pit also think that way?
"There are opinions both ways. The dominant discourse is the aggressive one. But I can't really stand behind that statement, it's just a personal impression."
There are legal experts in the Pit who effectively supervise this. Where are they?
"There are clear rules: The attacks must be within the framework of the laws of war. But within the framework of the laws of war, there is place for commanders' discretion. If you attack in sensitive places – let's say a hospital – then it's only with the authorization of very high-ranking commanders. The commanders' discretion is within the framework of the laws of war, it does not exceed them.
"But if in the past we restricted ourselves greatly – for example, before using heavy bombs we issued a warning [on the ground], and then [first] used a small bomb that doesn't cause damage in order to make sure that everyone was evacuating – that is no longer the case. There's a general warning and that's it. I can tell you with certainty: We do not violate the laws of war. No one, ever. It may be regrettable to hear this, but within the framework of the laws of war you can bring about the killing of thousands of civilians."
Was there ever a situation in this war when people in the Pit reached their red line and said, "I am no longer taking part in this"?
"I saw cases. But I will not elaborate."
Were you ever in the room after a sortie in which many people were killed? What happens in a situation like that?
"I can tell you that there is no room for expressions of emotion. That gets no expression. There's a debriefing, it's professional, it always goes in the direction of cold rationalism. So you don't see people saying, 'Wow, we did something absolutely awful.' If that happens, it will be in retrospect. You are within a particular mission, you need to be focused and sharp and professional. It's like a surgeon who's fighting for a patient's life, he can't involve his emotions. He has to stay cold."
Did you ever hear people expressing regret at actions?
"I heard all sorts of things in that direction. People who say, for example, 'We were looking for someone very senior, we undertook a very aggressive attack, people were hit, and he wasn't there.' Do you understand? And then you ask yourself, 'Hang on, was I insistent enough in checking how reliable the intelligence we received was? Could I have prevented it?' In the end, you get particular intelligence and you work on the basis of that, but maybe you could have picked up between the lines that there was some sort of problem with the information?"
How do you cope with that?
"You say, 'I'll do better next time, I need to be more cautious and alert, to listen to tones and not only to words.' You look for how to improve, you don't go into a trauma and you don't stop functioning."
Don't those things build up in your psyche?
"Maybe they do, and we repress, I don't know. We pilots are champions at repressing."
How do you explain that?
"As a reservist, you fly a sortie after leaving a sick child at home with a temperature of 40 degrees [104 Fahrenheit], and the car needs its annual test, and your business is having problems, and the check bounced. You have to disconnect, to focus on the mission. It's a matter of life and death. You can't mix these things. So what do you do? Repress. Disconnect. Everything disappears. Focused. It becomes a way of life."
And the same thing happens in reverse when you return?
"I think it does."
How central is the artificial intelligence system in the bank of targets?[/i
"I don't know what the sources of information really are."
[i]So targets come to you which possibly some computer emitted at a dizzying rate, and you treat them as though a person worked on them and researched them?
"Yes. I can't judge that, and I'm not sure which is preferable. People can also make mistakes, right? And computers can also be wrong. There is no way to judge that in our work zone."
[b]'Many religious Zionist commanders are blindly determined – for me, that's the story'[/b
E. is a drone operator in his thirties. According to him, the attack that ended the cease-fire should not have ended with 400 civilians killed. "That was dumb. Killing dozens of civilians in order to liquidate the battalion commander in Shujaiyeh – again [the previous battalion commander had been killed just days earlier] – is also exaggerated, totally exaggerated."
He relates that people in the corps talk among themselves about the harsh results of the attacks, but that happens mainly in one-on-one situations, not in meetings and not as something that gets into WhatsApp groups. "As a drone operator, those questions enter my mind mainly when areas are being evacuated. A zone is set in which from that moment everyone who enters it is [treated as] Hamas. You ask yourself, 'Just a minute, what if someone got lost? What if they just happened to pass by there?' From the viewpoint of the force on the ground, they crossed a line, they're not supposed to be there, and that's that. From my point of view, it's borderline legitimate."
A. relates that the question of whether an attack is necessary comes up with each attack. "Sometimes you're protecting forces on the ground, and you're asked to strike at someone who's kilometers away from there. So you ask yourself: 'Did that really endanger the force, or was it a whim of the command level?' You can't really know, because the ground forces encounter all sorts of things. They can say that they saw in the sector terrorists dressed as women, and there's a woman who came too close, so we couldn't take the risk and leave her alive.
"It depends very much on who you're working with. There are moderates, and there are some who come to heat things up. I can say that there are many commanders from the religious Zionist movement who are blindly determined – from my point of view, that's the story."
Was there ever a case in which you attacked, and you thought that there was absolutely no need for it?
"There were borderline cases, but if there is doubt there is no doubt [about what to do]. The issue of extensive killing of civilians relates first of all to the warplanes. The mistakes I might make are on a small scale. Let's say I think the man with the horse-drawn cart is a terrorist, and after the shooting it turns out that that wasn't the case. That is very bad, but it's one person. With warplanes the damage is far more serious. I have video, there's a story around the person. A fighter pilot knows nothing. He gets coordinates from HQ and executes."
In attacks by warplanes, there are no hot-tempered commanders from the religious Zionism movement – it's the air force chain of command. Do you feel anger toward the heads of the corps?
By Itay Mashiach and Ran Shimoni
Apr 17, 2025 11:41 pm IDT
Last week, the Israel Defense Forces assassinated the commander of Hamas' Shujaiyeh battalion. The air strike hit a four-story building and killed around 40 people, most of them women and children, according to reports. Sources in the Gaza Strip said that eight adjacent houses were damaged, and that among the dead were 15 members of a single family. According to the IDF Spokesperson's Unit, this was the third Shujaiyeh battalion commander to be taken out since the war began. In the meantime, his replacement has been killed as well.
The morning after the attack, the pilots' letter was released. It called on Israel to do all it can to bring about the release of all of the hostages, even if that means ending the war. In its early drafts, the letter's tone was much more aggressive, but moderating forces among the signatories prevailed, and the final version was kept well within the bounds of the national consensus. Nevertheless, the initiative of the pilot signatories, most of them in the reserves, caused a rift within the Israel Air Force, one that has quickly broadened to other IDF units. "The continuation of the war," they wrote, "will cause the deaths of hostages, IDF troops and innocent civilians." It seems as though the mention of innocent civilians was an act no less subversive than the call to stop the war. It sparked tremendous arguments among the initiators of the letter; some refused to sign it because of it.
Others insisted on the centrality of the issue, and complained that the wording was too neutral, not biting enough. "We're killing innocent people in Gaza, and people are silent," one of the initiators said to us during the interview. The tumult caused by the letter raised an opportunity to ask the pilots themselves about those innocent non-combatants killed over the past year and a half. Are they as marginal in the pilots' consciousness as they are in the public consciousness, or do they have the power to widen the fissure within the air force?
Interviews we conducted with active members of the air force – pilots, drone operators, air support officers and officers in the "pit," the military command center in Tel Aviv – brought to light their thoughts and positions on the moral dilemma at the heart of their service. These questions aren't new: "The world wasn't created on October 7," one of the pilots told us. But in the face of the ongoing nature of the war and the scope of the killing, they are more burning than ever. And they are indeed the subject of an ongoing discussion within the force. Some of the airmen interviewed spoke of difficult feelings, of dealing with a real dilemma and contemplating whether they should continue to serve. Others made clear that the current situation is valid in their view, albeit unfortunate. They explained that the broad harm caused to innocent civilians on the Palestinian side is a product of the cruel statistics of combat in a complex battlefield in which the enemy hides among the civilian population.
In all of the conversations, the moral dilemma was connected to the question of the legitimacy of the war and of the government running it. The cracks widen each other: the lack of faith in the war's righteousness and the sincerity of its goals is undermining the core justification for inflicting harm on innocent civilians. The widespread sense that the hostages have been abandoned most starkly underscores this lack of confidence. "When I leave the Kirya [the military headquarters in Tel Aviv] through Begin Gate," says a lieutenant colonel serving in the pit, "I feel more morally connected to Einav Zangauker [the mother of a hostage and a leader of a daily protest at Begin Gate] than to the system – from the government down."
From the conversations, it emerges that the air strike apparatus works in a way that easily obscures the full picture – including the consequences of a bombing – from those involved in the various stages of an operation. "I don't want to insult the guys in the cockpits, but a pilot today can't know what he's bombing," says a retired pilot who served in the current war as an air support officer in one of the brigades deployed in Gaza. "It's unpleasant to say, but pilots today are porters. No one lets them know about innocent civilians."
Members of the air force who aren't directly involved in strikes on Gaza admitted in interviews that they were glad that they were spared having to confront this information, and that they made efforts to stay away from the issue. "Why burden the soul with things I'm not sure I can bear?" one of them said. But we should listen to those who are bearing it. Last week, some of them warned in the pilots' letter that the situation is shaky. The dozens of fresh bodies that were buried that morning in Shujaiyeh attest to that as well.
'I have very little trust in the government. But I still have trust in the military'
R. is an F-16 pilot in the reserves. "After October 7 there was a very strong feeling of the rightness of our path, including some very difficult things we were required to do," he says. "The feeling now is very different, at least for me. Other people come to the squadron and put all [other considerations] aside."
Is it a matter of political opinion? That those who support the government necessarily feel alright with the missions?
"That's not the division. There are also pilots who support the government and have a gut feeling – you know, the question of the purpose of all this. That question is not political at all."
Compared to soldiers in the land army, a pilot's sortie has more far-reaching consequences. If he doesn't understand where this thing is heading, how does he cope?
"I have very little trust in the government. But I still have trust in the military, and especially in the air force. I know the people who choose the targets, who calculate the collateral damage and decide the level of collateral damage. Without that trust I wouldn't fly a single sortie. In the end I go home with the things I was involved in, for good and for bad, and I have to live with it. It also has an impact on the next time I will report for duty."
Is there place for you to express criticism about a target you've been given?
"I have professional questions, but the knowledge of exactly what I am attacking is very limited. Let's say I'm told that it's a ranking [Hamas] figure who's in an apartment – it might be a 14-year-old who rose through the ranks rapidly in the past year. Nor do I have any way of knowing whether the apartment is empty of non-combatants or not.
But I rely on my buddies in the Kirya, whose task this is. I have to trust that the person who's responsible for choosing the target, for calculating the collateral damage and for [selecting] the type of munition, is doing it the best he can. It's possible that someone decided that they can get along with collateral damage of up to 10 civilians, and I don't live well with that. But that is exactly the trust that I have to decide about in advance, before I arrive. I can't critique it in the squadron."
What happens at home?
"There's always the friction with my wife, which from my point of view I need to avoid. From her point of view, I shouldn't go. From her point of view, this event [the war] has long since played itself out. Simultaneously, you get a message that the squadron needs people in the week ahead and I need to schedule myself, to decide that I'll go again next week, too."
Have there been times when you got home, watched the news, and asked yourself: "What have I done?"
"I don't know if those are the right words. Sometimes there's a feeling of pain and sorrow. As it happens, I've seen quite a few attacks; in some [cases] you sit in the squadron, go through the images, and one frame before the bomb explodes you see an old man with a donkey cart passing by in the next street over. No one intended it; on the other hand, it was taken into account that this could happen, and to our regret it happened.
"Does it feel alright? No. Does it make me say that I won't show up anymore? Also no. Even if 90 percent of the war's purpose is Bibi's attempt to hold onto power, in the end there are soldiers below who are waiting for air cover, and I'm going to be there to help them. But it's being eroded, that feeling. The commander of the air force writes in response to the letter [of reserve pilots] that it's not legitimate to be critical of a war that you're taking part in – but how is that not legitimate? There are people whose trust in the whole system is affected by that [response]."
Do you have a red line?
"It's very hard to answer that. Obviously, I can still go to the squadron, say 'Good morning' and receive the assignment – I've done it a thousand times. But the feeling in your gut is growing sour. When I get up in the morning and decide that I'm not doing it anymore, I'm not sure it will happen because of a specific attack, but rather because of an accumulation of feelings that it's no longer appropriate for me to keep inside."
Are there people who are thinking of ceasing to fly?
"Sure. There are people for whom this is a daily dilemma from their point of view. This subject of trust in the system disturbs their sleep nightly."
For them, is the significant factor the duration of the fighting, or the casting off of restraint in regard to the war?
"I would assess that it's a combination. There's a general feeling of purposelessness in the fighting. Why am I harming others – for a true operational purpose? A political purpose? In addition, there's the question of trust in the leadership. From their point of view, if the commander of the air force reacts that way to the letter, maybe there's something rotten in the whole chain. Just like we see what's happening in the police force, no one said that it can't reach the army. There are people for whom this [question] lies at the heart of the sense of personal morality."
To what extent are these conversations held among the members of the squadron?
"It's complicated. There are people I feel comfortable talking with, and people I will not talk to. In the period of the protest [in 2023] there was preoccupation with this all the time in official forums – the squadron split into two. Today, maybe as a lesson from what happened on October 7, there's no desire to deal with this in the army. In the squadron we will not talk about the crisis of trust in the government."
And after a mission that generates uncomfortable feelings, is there anyone to talk to about it?
"It happens. I had a sortie with a difficult result from both the operational aspect and the damage aspect, and I talked about it. It weighed on me."
Because the mission wasn't carried out the way it should have been, or because of what happened on the ground in the wake of your bombing?
"Because people died who apparently should not have died, and I was part of that. Maybe I could have prevented it and maybe not. In cases in which there was something I could have done differently, it's very disturbing."
Maj. G. serves in operational headquarters, the "Pit," and his task is to prepare the "target bank" and to oversee the attacks. "We are engaged in everything related to that, from intelligence all the way to the attack, down to the information that's received after the attack," he explains.
What's the discourse in the Pit about the exceptional scale of the harm to civilians in this war?
"After October 7, it was clear that the whole criterion of innocent people in Gaza had changed. It was clear that we were now in far greater danger, and therefore we also needed to be far more aggressive. I think that there was truly agreement on that. If during the previous rounds in Gaza we aspired to a situation of zero casualties among noncombatants, after October 7 we were ready to endanger more innocent civilians in every attack in order to achieve the goal.
"That was because we truly saw a possibility, especially at the start, of the country also being attacked from the north, and there was great apprehension. After that, I'm afraid to say, it just became more acute. We got used to it. We got used to the idea that in Gaza, this is what's done. It's natural. You do things, repeat them, it becomes the norm."
But didn't the penny drop at any stage? Wasn't anyone jolted by the number of people killed?
"I can't speak for others. I can say that it bothers me a great deal. I feel that the air force lost its professionalism. Its professionalism is not to harm innocent people, unless there is no choice. I feel that what is happening is disproportionate, that the number of those killed is astronomical and that this is a stain on the air force and on the State of Israel."
How many people in the Pit also think that way?
"There are opinions both ways. The dominant discourse is the aggressive one. But I can't really stand behind that statement, it's just a personal impression."
There are legal experts in the Pit who effectively supervise this. Where are they?
"There are clear rules: The attacks must be within the framework of the laws of war. But within the framework of the laws of war, there is place for commanders' discretion. If you attack in sensitive places – let's say a hospital – then it's only with the authorization of very high-ranking commanders. The commanders' discretion is within the framework of the laws of war, it does not exceed them.
"But if in the past we restricted ourselves greatly – for example, before using heavy bombs we issued a warning [on the ground], and then [first] used a small bomb that doesn't cause damage in order to make sure that everyone was evacuating – that is no longer the case. There's a general warning and that's it. I can tell you with certainty: We do not violate the laws of war. No one, ever. It may be regrettable to hear this, but within the framework of the laws of war you can bring about the killing of thousands of civilians."
Was there ever a situation in this war when people in the Pit reached their red line and said, "I am no longer taking part in this"?
"I saw cases. But I will not elaborate."
Were you ever in the room after a sortie in which many people were killed? What happens in a situation like that?
"I can tell you that there is no room for expressions of emotion. That gets no expression. There's a debriefing, it's professional, it always goes in the direction of cold rationalism. So you don't see people saying, 'Wow, we did something absolutely awful.' If that happens, it will be in retrospect. You are within a particular mission, you need to be focused and sharp and professional. It's like a surgeon who's fighting for a patient's life, he can't involve his emotions. He has to stay cold."
Did you ever hear people expressing regret at actions?
"I heard all sorts of things in that direction. People who say, for example, 'We were looking for someone very senior, we undertook a very aggressive attack, people were hit, and he wasn't there.' Do you understand? And then you ask yourself, 'Hang on, was I insistent enough in checking how reliable the intelligence we received was? Could I have prevented it?' In the end, you get particular intelligence and you work on the basis of that, but maybe you could have picked up between the lines that there was some sort of problem with the information?"
How do you cope with that?
"You say, 'I'll do better next time, I need to be more cautious and alert, to listen to tones and not only to words.' You look for how to improve, you don't go into a trauma and you don't stop functioning."
Don't those things build up in your psyche?
"Maybe they do, and we repress, I don't know. We pilots are champions at repressing."
How do you explain that?
"As a reservist, you fly a sortie after leaving a sick child at home with a temperature of 40 degrees [104 Fahrenheit], and the car needs its annual test, and your business is having problems, and the check bounced. You have to disconnect, to focus on the mission. It's a matter of life and death. You can't mix these things. So what do you do? Repress. Disconnect. Everything disappears. Focused. It becomes a way of life."
And the same thing happens in reverse when you return?
"I think it does."
How central is the artificial intelligence system in the bank of targets?[/i
"I don't know what the sources of information really are."
[i]So targets come to you which possibly some computer emitted at a dizzying rate, and you treat them as though a person worked on them and researched them?
"Yes. I can't judge that, and I'm not sure which is preferable. People can also make mistakes, right? And computers can also be wrong. There is no way to judge that in our work zone."
[b]'Many religious Zionist commanders are blindly determined – for me, that's the story'[/b
E. is a drone operator in his thirties. According to him, the attack that ended the cease-fire should not have ended with 400 civilians killed. "That was dumb. Killing dozens of civilians in order to liquidate the battalion commander in Shujaiyeh – again [the previous battalion commander had been killed just days earlier] – is also exaggerated, totally exaggerated."
He relates that people in the corps talk among themselves about the harsh results of the attacks, but that happens mainly in one-on-one situations, not in meetings and not as something that gets into WhatsApp groups. "As a drone operator, those questions enter my mind mainly when areas are being evacuated. A zone is set in which from that moment everyone who enters it is [treated as] Hamas. You ask yourself, 'Just a minute, what if someone got lost? What if they just happened to pass by there?' From the viewpoint of the force on the ground, they crossed a line, they're not supposed to be there, and that's that. From my point of view, it's borderline legitimate."
A. relates that the question of whether an attack is necessary comes up with each attack. "Sometimes you're protecting forces on the ground, and you're asked to strike at someone who's kilometers away from there. So you ask yourself: 'Did that really endanger the force, or was it a whim of the command level?' You can't really know, because the ground forces encounter all sorts of things. They can say that they saw in the sector terrorists dressed as women, and there's a woman who came too close, so we couldn't take the risk and leave her alive.
"It depends very much on who you're working with. There are moderates, and there are some who come to heat things up. I can say that there are many commanders from the religious Zionist movement who are blindly determined – from my point of view, that's the story."
Was there ever a case in which you attacked, and you thought that there was absolutely no need for it?
"There were borderline cases, but if there is doubt there is no doubt [about what to do]. The issue of extensive killing of civilians relates first of all to the warplanes. The mistakes I might make are on a small scale. Let's say I think the man with the horse-drawn cart is a terrorist, and after the shooting it turns out that that wasn't the case. That is very bad, but it's one person. With warplanes the damage is far more serious. I have video, there's a story around the person. A fighter pilot knows nothing. He gets coordinates from HQ and executes."
In attacks by warplanes, there are no hot-tempered commanders from the religious Zionism movement – it's the air force chain of command. Do you feel anger toward the heads of the corps?
