Israelis protest against the government and to show support for the hostages who were kidnapped during the deadly Oct. 7, 2023 attack, amid the ongoing conflict in Gaza between Israel and Hamas, in Tel Aviv, Israel, Nov. 30, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun

For the sake of the people I know who have lost loved ones, and for those who continue to fight every day to defend the State of Israel, I am compelled to write about NAZA, the documentary by two left-wing Israelis Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor, that received a 25-minute standing ovation at the Venice Film Festival.

At the heart of NAZA is the allegation that civilian deaths in Gaza are not collateral consequences of war but rather systematically anticipated and incorporated into Israeli military targeting decisions.

So where is the evidence?

The film relies on testimony from people presented as Israeli soldiers and intelligence personnel. Yet the audience is not given their names, units, or identities, leaving their accounts impossible to be independently verified. The IDF has rejected the allegations and challenged the portrayal of its targeting practices.

Anonymous testimony can sometimes expose genuine wrongdoing. Whistleblowers may have legitimate reasons to conceal their identities. But if you are going to accuse an entire army of deliberately murdering civilians, you need more than unverified testimony presented in an emotionally charged film.

Bring the evidence.

This is especially important because one of the most basic distinctions in the laws and realities of war is between intentional targeting and civilian deaths resulting from military operations.

A civilian being killed does not, by itself, prove that the civilian was the intended target. A military operation can be directed at a legitimate military objective and still result in civilian casualties. That does not make every such death justified, nor does it eliminate the responsibility to investigate unlawful conduct. But it does mean that casualty figures alone cannot establish murderous intent. Intent matters.

And that raises another question. If the objective of Israel’s military campaign were simply to kill Palestinian civilians, why has the IDF repeatedly warned civilians to leave areas of combat?

Israel has used leaflets, phone calls, text messages, and other means to warn civilians of impending operations. This procedure is difficult to reconcile with the claim that the killing of civilians itself is the fundamental objective.

This difference between “civilians were killed” and “civilians were deliberately targeted” cannot therefore be simply erased.

And there is another glaring omission in NAZA: the Israelis.

Where are the people whose sons and daughters were murdered on Oct. 7? Where are the families who have buried soldiers? Where are the wounded who will carry their injuries for the rest of their lives? Where are the soldiers who entered Gaza knowing that they might not come home?

I have met some of these people. I have met Israelis who barely survived while fighting to rescue hostages and, in the course of combat, attempting to reduce harm to civilians. I have met people who lost comrades and people who returned from Gaza carrying wounds that will never completely disappear.

And they are conspicuously absent from the story Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor have chosen to tell.

So are the hostages. These were not abstract political symbols. They were human beings actually held in Gaza. Why has their suffering received so little of the cinematic attention, moral urgency, and international applause devoted to accusations against Israel?

The omission matters greatly because when you construct a narrative in which Israelis appear primarily as perpetrators and Palestinians primarily as victims, you are deciding whose suffering deserves to be seen. The filmmakers have chosen to ignore the suffering of their own countrymen while vilifying the very soldiers who risk their lives to protect them from missile attacks and from being slaughtered. That is not journalism or filmmaking with any integrity.

Yuval and Rachel are entitled to criticize Israel. They are entitled to investigate the conduct of its military. They are entitled to reach conclusions with which you or I may profoundly disagree. But they are not entitled to have their allegations treated as established facts without compelling evidence, thus endangering the lives of Israelis and Jews worldwide.

For those applauding these accusations from the comfort of a cinema, a living room, or a basement — the distance between their privilege and the reality of the battlefield cannot be overstated. It is one thing to explain how soldiers should behave in war; it is another to enter a building where an enemy may be waiting, to search for hostages, to make a split-second decision when lives hang in the balance, or to watch a comrade die beside you. It is harder still to return home wounded, carrying lifelong physical and emotional scars while struggling with the financial and psychological consequences of losing yourself, your comrades, and the life you once knew.

The people who fought this war, and the families who buried them, paid a price that cannot be understood from a cinema seat, TikTok, or Instagram. Their experiences should not be dismissed or reduced to political talking points by those who never had to bear the consequences of the decisions they so confidently judge.

Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor must be held accountable for the consequences of their accusations, for putting Jewish lives at greater risk, and for trivializing the suffering of Israelis.

Paushali Lass is an Indian-German intercultural and geopolitical consultant, who focuses on building bridges between Israel, India, and Germany.