Yom Hazikaron 2025

2023

Yom Hazikaron 2023, I was near the end of my mandatory military service. Like many other soldiers in both mandatory and career service, I was assigned a grave - of a soldier who had died during his service and had served in my company. I was to stand at the grave, to speak to the family if they showed up, and to represent the military's attention to every one of the soldiers who had lost their lives in service of the country's defense.

The cemetery I was sent to was in Kiryat Shmona. I left my house, in dress uniform (or what passes as such in the IDF), and caught a bus up to Kiryat Shmona. I stood there, in the "at ease" position, for hours, until the memorial siren sounded, the wreath-laying ceremony was performed, and I was released from duty for the day. I went back home - passing the local memorial flame honor guard - and got ready for the Independence Day celebrations. A few days later, I was awarded a Certification of Excellence from my battalion commander.

2024

Over the next year, after the war broke out, the cemetery in Kiryat Shmona would go on to be directly hit on a number of occasions by rockets, destroying headstones and devastating families. I saw videos of the impacts and the destruction. It was the exact opposite of honor and respect.

Yom Hazikaron 2024 I was in reserve duty. The number of military graves had grown significantly. Some of them were of friends of friends. Some were of neighbors.

I wasn't on grave duty that year. I don't think reservists are generally given that duty, and there were more pressing things to do in any case. We were under attack and there was work to do.

2025

I drafted in 2020, which means that every Yom Yazikaron from 2021 to 2024 I spent in uniform, representing the military in one way or another. This year, I spent Yom Hazikaron as just another civilian in the crowd.

In the afternoon before Yom Hazikaron officially started, I attended a ceremony on my university campus, where they named and remembered students and former students who had fallen in battle. As soon as the ceremony was over, it was back to classes. I found it somewhat difficult to concentrate.

That evening, I attended the local ceremony in the city by my university - the first time that I can recall that I attended a Yom Hazikaron ceremony that wasn't either in my hometown or military. The place was packed. The municipality evidently hadn't counted on so many people attending; there were hundreds of people crowding around the sides, standing there. In the minutes before the memorial siren, guidance for what to do if there was an air raid siren was projected onto a screen so that everyone could see.

The siren sounded. Hundreds to thousands of people stood in silence.

In the morning, I caught the bus up north. There was no way I was making it in time to attend a ceremony in a place that I would have liked to, so I just headed toward my hometown. Along the way, the bus stopped for the memorial siren. Cars stopped on the road, people got out, and stood in silence. With me on the bus were soldiers in uniform, the Arabic-speaking bus driver, and Haredim in their black hats.  Everyone stood still in memory and respect.

A few days before, I had heard of a joint Israeli-Palestinian Memorial Day event. I wasn't planning on going to one of the places where it was being held remotely - I felt that Yom Hazikaron is specifically a day for remembering those who fell defending Israel, and so attending a joint memorial event wasn't something I was interested in. I understood the concept, though, and I respect those who held or attended the event - working towards peace and mutual understanding is always something worthwhile, even if I didn't necessarily agree with this particular event. 

The night of Yom Hazikaron, a synagogue in Ra'anana screening the joint event was attacked by a group of right-wingers.

Disrupting such an event is the inverse of working towards peace and understanding. It is directly attempting to undermine those efforts. While perhaps not quite as extreme as assassinating a Prime Minister working towards peace agreements, it's a dangerous step in that direction.
We achieved peace with Jordan. We achieved peace with Egypt. Both only happened after decades of working towards that goal, and those peace agreements do not dishonor the memory of those who fell in the wars with those countries - it ensures that they didn't die in vain, that lasting change was made, and that more soldiers don't have to join them in the cemeteries because of the same conflict.

I still probably wouldn't attend the joint event, personally. But to disrupt it is beyond the pale. To truly honor those who fell in battle, we need to work toward making sure that their sacrifice leads to lasting change.