Numbers are so often the enemy of individuals. Numbers can be disputed, politicized, weaponized. But during the Israel-Gaza war, numbers are guilty of an even greater act of cruelty: they anonymize.
The numbers of Israeli and Palestinian dead in the year since October 7th tell their own story. But for those who have lost loved ones, those losses are counted not in numbers but in names.
Each name represents a precious individual – a mother, a brother, a child – whose memory is the source of both comfort and burning anguish. How they had lived. And how they died. Grief cannot be measured mathematically.
Dr Tariq Haddad has a number in mind. 175. That’s the number of members of his extended family he believes to have died in Gaza within the past 12 months. It’s a number which continues to increase. But he’s determined to share the names, the faces and stories of the individuals buried within the rubble. Buried within that number.
“Hamza was barely ten years old,” he told Riz Khan on Al Arabiya News.
“He’s the only one of his family who survived. He woke up in a hospital with an amputation and with the news that his parents, his uncles and his other uncle, his grandparents, every single member of his family had been killed. And then he himself succumbed to the trauma from his amputation.”
8 is the number of miles from Haddad’s medical practice in Virginia to the White House and State Department. As a Palestinian-American cardiologist, he spends his days saving the lives of strangers while powerless to save his own family.
When word of his story reached Antony Blinken’s office, Haddad was invited to meet the Secretary of State. He was informed the encounter would last just 3 minutes. That was another number which he found unacceptable – an inadequate time in which to express his outrage at the consequences of US military support for Israel. So, he wrote a 12-page letter which was read to Secretary Blinken instead:
“How do I look a person in the eyes for three minutes who not only could have prevented the death of my family members and the 15,000 children in Gaza who’ve been killed but actively contributed to their suffering and death by providing military munitions from our US military supply to kill my family and destroy their homes.”
Haddad said he received no response.
The number 3 has a different resonance with Michael Levy. That was the age reached by his nephew Almog – known as Moggy – on his latest birthday. Moggy’s parents, Or and Eynav, were unable to share the occasion. His mother died in a bomb shelter at the Supernova music festival on October 7th, surrounded by Hamas fighters who used guns and grenades against them. Michael says Or managed to call his family from the shelter.
“He just repeated a sentence. ‘Mom, you don’t want to know what’s going on here.’ And ten minutes later the terrorists arrived at that bomb shelter and sprayed it with bullets and grenades, they even fired an RPG into it.”
Of the 27 people in the shelter, there were few survivors. But Or was one of them. He was dragged to a truck, along with Hersh Goldberg-Polin whose arm had been blown off as he tried to throw grenades back outside the shelter. Goldberg-Polin was among six bodies recovered from a tunnel in Gaza by Israeli soldiers in September. Moggy’s dad remains in Gaza.
Levy has made it his mission to secure his brother’s release and has spoken to the Pope, presidents and prime ministers in his pursuit of that goal. He received sympathy and support but, like Haddad, his efforts have gone unrewarded.
“We all want to live in peace,” Levy told Al Arabiya News.
“Most of the hostages are actually peace activists. I want to live in peace with the Palestinians. I don’t hate anyone. I just need my brother back and the rest of the hostages back. And hopefully we can find a way to live together in peace.”
Haddad also recognizes a common bond between innocent people on both sides who continue to share the suffering and grief on a daily basis.
“I absolutely do. And the reason I do is because you see it every day. You see the collaboration between well-meaning people of the Jewish faith and Israelis and Palestinians and it happens every day. I think there’s a humanness in all of us that binds us together. And I can stand here and say that I can feel and empathize with the suffering of anybody,” he said.
Two men - one Palestinian, one Israeli – both desperate for an end to the war. Both in agreement that 365 days of conflict since October 7th is a number which must not continue to increase.
