One year after Hamas militants stormed across the border, unleashing unprecedented violence that left communities shattered, the residents of southern Israel's kibbutzim face an agonising dilemma: can they ever truly return home?
The Ghosts of October 7th
Walking through the once-idyllic streets of Kfar Aza, where burnt-out homes still stand as grim memorials, former residents confront memories that make return seem impossible. "Every corner holds a ghost," says Miriam Cohen, 54, whose neighbour was among the 1,200 killed that day. "The laughter that used to echo through these paths has been replaced by silence."
Rebuilding More Than Buildings
While the Israeli government has poured millions into physical reconstruction—repairing damaged homes and reinforcing security infrastructure—the psychological wounds run deeper than any construction project can fix.
- Over 80% of displaced kibbutz residents remain in temporary accommodation
- Mental health services report crisis-level demand for trauma counselling
- Security concerns persist despite enhanced border protection measures
A Generation Forever Changed
For the children who witnessed the atrocities, the concept of home has been fundamentally altered. Ten-year-old Noam, who spent 14 hours hiding in a safe room while militants roamed outside, now suffers from night terrors. "He asks if the bad men will come back if we return," his mother explains, tears welling in her eyes. "What do I tell him?"
The Great Divide
Communities once bound by shared ideals now find themselves split between those determined to reclaim their homes and those who cannot bear to return.
- The Determined Returners: "We cannot let terror win. Our roots are here," argues David Levi, 68, a third-generation kibbutz member.
- The Reluctant Leavers: "Survival means accepting that some chapters must close," counters Sarah Ben-Ami, 42, who plans to relocate north.
- The Uncertain Majority: Caught between loyalty to community and concern for family safety.
Security: The Unanswered Question
Despite government assurances and visible military presence, many residents question whether any level of security can truly guarantee safety. The trauma of that October morning, when protection systems failed catastrophically, has shattered trust in institutions meant to keep them safe.
"We were promised security before, and look what happened," says former security coordinator Tomer Goldberg, who lost two members of his team during the attack. "How can we make that promise again with any credibility?"
Looking Forward, Haunted by the Past
As reconstruction continues and the Israeli government pushes for normalization, the human cost remains immeasurable. The kibbutzim of southern Israel stand at a crossroads—their future depending not just on rebuilt homes and stronger fences, but on whether shattered trust and broken spirits can ever be fully mended.
