Why I couldn't care less about the IDF's inquiry into October 7th

Tonight, the IDF is finally dropping its big, fat report on what went wrong October 7th, like it’s some grand revelation we’ve all been holding our breath for. Spoiler alert: I don’t care. Not a single shred of me gives a hoot about your inquiry, your finger-pointing, your neatly typed conclusions.The Bibas family—Shiri, that radiant mom, and her sweet little boys, Kfir and Ariel—are gone, snatched away by monsters who don’t deserve the air they breathe. And you think I’m sitting here waiting for your PowerPoint on who forgot to lock the gate? Screw that.

We’re a nation drowning in grief, and all you can do is play CSI: Jerusalem. My heart’s been ripped out, stomped on, and set on fire—same as every parent, every friend, every soul in this country who’s lost someone to that nightmare. Shiri and her babies—God, those redheaded angels—didn’t deserve a second of the hell Hamas put them through. I close my eyes, and I see their faces, not your now irrelevant charts about troop movements or intelligence failures. You think your report’s going to bring them back? Heal this gaping wound in my chest? It’s a joke—a sick, pathetic joke.

Who’s at fault? Who cares! The politicians scream at the generals, the generals blame the spooks, and the talking heads on TV act like they’re solving a murder mystery. Meanwhile, we’re burying our kids, lighting Yahrzeit candles, and trying to remember how to breathe without screaming. Was it Bibi? The brass? Some bone tired 19 year old soldier asleep at a radar screen? I really truly don't care. Hamas did this—those soulless bastards who slaughter and kidnap and laugh about it. That’s the enemy, not some poor bastard who misread a memo. But no, let’s keep navel-gazing while the rockets still fly and the tunnels still snake under our feet.

This obsession with blame is a luxury I don’t have. I’m too busy mourning. Too busy trying to explain to myself that my son's friend moved to Har Herzl, permanently. Too busy raging at a world that shrugs while our babies are butchered. You want to know what failed on October 7th? Everything. The whole damn system. But dissecting it like a frog in a lab isn’t going to un-steal the Bibas family. It’s not going to stitch up the hole in my soul—or in this country’s. We’re broken, and no inquiry’s fixing that. It’s just noise, a distraction from the real fight we’re still in.

So take your report and shove it. I’m not reading it. I’m not watching the press conference. I’m not clapping for your accountability circus. I’m grieving, I’m furious, and I’m done with the endless inquiries. Hamas took everything that mattered, and you’re arguing over who left the door open. Wake up—we’re still bleeding out here, and all you’ve got is a Band-Aid and a magnifying glass. Enough.