GAZA — Going into Gaza remains a rare opportunity for journalists. Access has been tightly controlled throughout the Israel-Hamas war, and even now, months into a ceasefire that has paused the fighting without resolving it, entry is neither routine nor casual. Last week I had the opportunity to interview Nadav Shoshani of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) inside the Gaza Strip itself, as he walked me through the so-called “Yellow Line” roughly dividing the enclave between east and west, the strained reality on the ground, and the directions in which this conflict may now move.

Shoshani is the IDF’s international spokesperson, one of the most visible Israeli figures to emerge since Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, invasion of the Jewish state. For months he has been a fixture in global media, correcting casualty claims and explaining operations in real time. In modern conflict, the spokesman is not an afterthought to the battlefield but an extension of it. What is said publicly shapes diplomatic reaction, public opinion, and operational latitude. English-language briefings in particular are conducted with as much care as any military deployment.

Spokesmen can be dry to interview: They do not reveal classified plans or freelance personal views. Instead, they articulate the institutional position. They present what Israel wants seen, understood, and, ideally, repeated. But even this is useful data for us journalists, and for our readers, too. It is a form of evidence, explaining the narrative the army — and the state — wants to be repeated. From this embed, and from this conversation, the message was consistent: tense but disciplined control in a moment of relative calm (but not peace), determination without appetite for escalation, action in response to violations rather than initiative for renewed war. It was almost as if they wanted to portray a sense of disciplined, determined boredom.

We met at an IDF post a few hundred meters from what is now called the Yellow Line, the boundary dividing Israeli-controlled territory from areas still under Hamas control. Just beyond it lay Deir al-Balah and the central camps, dense urban belts whose origins stretch back to the aftermath of 1948 and whose political culture has long been shaped by displacement, factional rivalry, and Islamist terrorist organizations.

Shoshani’s own trajectory mirrors the way this war has pulled figures back into public roles. During his initial decade-plus in the IDF he served in key communications positions, including spokesperson for Military Intelligence and head of the IDF’s social media desk. In 2022 he moved into politics, advising Gadi Eisenkot in Israel’s parliament, known as the Knesset. He briefly entered private consulting. After Oct. 7, he was called back into uniform at Eisenkot’s request. Since then, he has become one of the IDF’s most recognizable English-language voices.

As we moved between locations in a military jeep, he spoke about operating in a conflict that is scrutinized but rarely visited, as a result of Israel’s own decision to bar free movement of journalists in the area. The informational theater runs parallel to the physical one. Every strike, every claim, every casualty figure is contested. The spokesman stands at the junction between battlefield and broadcast.
From the vantage point near the Yellow Line, the broader strategic dilemma came into focus.

Hamas continues to control significant internal areas of Gaza. Israeli assessments indicate that weapons accumulated earlier in the war remain dispersed across the enclave. Tunnels are still being uncovered even in the southern city of Rafah, where the IDF has operated for an extended period. “The IDF are world class experts in dealing with terror tunnels,” Shoshani said. “And still, after a year plus in Rafah, there are still tunnels.” He described the network as vast and deeply embedded.

In the sector we were visiting, Shoshani said, there are dozens of tunnel shafts. “Single digits” are dismantled each week. It is a steady, grinding process rather than a decisive sweep. As the Israelis are still discovering new shafts and tunnels, the assumption is that the network is even more vast than they know. And for Israel, destroying the tunnels is part of Hamas’s commitment to disarmament in accordance with the US-backed ceasefire.

“The first line of the agreement says Gaza will be a terror free zone,” Shoshani told me. “The agreement speaks about Hamas disarming.” Israel, he said, is committed to that outcome.

Yet Hamas leaders abroad have recently made clear that disarmament is not under consideration. Khaled Meshaal has described surrendering weapons as removing the “soul” of the resistance. Instead, he has floated the prospect of a long “hudna” — a five, seven, or ten-year truce in which weapons remain intact. A pause, not a conclusion. The way things are at the moment it seems like America remains undecided, torn between the momentum of building on the relative calm of the ceasefire and the inclination toward helping Israel defeat its jihadist enemies.

That divergence defines the uncertainty of this moment. A ceasefire predicated on demilitarization rests on a premise one side openly rejects.

Israel currently controls somewhere between 51-58 percent of the Gaza Strip. Within Israel’s political and security leadership, the argument is not over whether Hamas must be weakened, but over how far that effort must go. One school supports sustained operational control and calibrated pressure, judging that persistent attrition imposes manageable diplomatic costs while limiting Israeli exposure. Another warns that leaving Hamas organizationally intact, even in a diminished form, merely postpones the next confrontation and preserves its capacity to reconstitute. The dispute turns on a single question: Can Hamas be contained, or must it be eradicated to prevent recurrence?

“We are literally standing between Hamas and our civilians,” Shoshani said, pointing toward Israeli communities only a kilometer or two away. The distance is short enough to be visible. Oct. 7 lingers as the unspoken baseline of risk. I walked through the burnt-out homes of Be’eri shortly after the massacre. I cried quietly among the makeshift memorials at Re’im for the Nova party victims slain by the barbarous Palestinian terrorists full of bloodlust. I met survivors from Nahal Oz, evacuated for months from their beloved home and living as a family of four in a single kibbutz bedroom in the north. The scars will remain in the psyche of Israel and Jews for decades to come.

The atmosphere at the post was quiet but taut. Occasional distant fire cracked and faded. Wind carried sand across the position. A short drive away, at the Kissufim crossing, pallets of humanitarian aid sat stacked inside Gaza, inspected and approved. “Every week, 4,200 trucks are going into Gaza,” Shoshani said. He emphasized that the Israeli depot on the other side was empty because everything cleared had been transferred into the Strip, awaiting collection by international agencies.

Humanitarian logistics and sniper fire exist side by side. Reconstruction frameworks are discussed internationally while tunnel shafts are dismantled meter by meter.

US President Donald Trump is expected to announce billions in funding for Gaza and provide an update on an international stabilization force at the next meeting of his Board of Peace. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has now formally joined the initiative, signing a back-dated letter during his US trip last week. Public language emphasizes transformation and demilitarization.

Questions surrounding the proposed international stabilization force are also occupying serious attention among policymakers. Under the framework advanced during the Trump administration’s post-war planning, the concept envisages a multinational force deployed in Gaza after the cessation of major combat operations. Its stated purpose would be to oversee demilitarization, support reconstruction, assist in training local security forces, and provide a transitional security umbrella while Israeli forces reduce their footprint.

Within the proposed international architecture, Indonesia has emerged as a potential contributor. Jakarta signaled its readiness, in principle, to supply a substantial contingent to such a force, positioning itself as a Muslim-majority state willing to participate in post-conflict stabilization. The rationale is clear. Indonesian involvement would lend broader regional legitimacy to any arrangement and dilute the perception that Gaza’s future security is being shaped solely by Western actors or by Israel. But everyone knows that nobody can truly disarm Hamas other than the IDF.

Legitimacy is only one dimension of the problem. For Israeli decision-makers, the critical issues are structural and operational. Under what mandate would such an international force operate? Would it be authorized to conduct active counter-terror operations, or confined to monitoring and training? How would intelligence be shared? What happens if armed factions attempt to regroup or test the limits of the force’s authority? These are the foundations upon which success or failure rests.

The Indonesian proposal illustrates the wider tension embedded in the international force concept. A deployment designed primarily for peacekeeping and humanitarian support may stabilize the optics of the post-war environment, but stabilization in a territory where armed networks have deep roots requires more than presence. It requires enforceable authority, coherent command structures, and the political will to confront spoilers — all things I witnessed in the IDF outpost in Gaza but cannot imagine will be present among foreign forces.

I ask LTC Shoshani about the Indonesian rumors and statements. On the ground, foreign troops are absent. “I think that’s more in the in the level of declaration and statements made by politicians,” he said. “It’s not something on the ground happening right now. As you can see, there’s only IDF soldiers in Gaza, but we’re working within the [US-led Civil Military Coordination Center] CMCC for the different solutions that have been agreed upon.” For the IDF, political declarations have yet to alter operational reality.

The central questions remain stark. Can Hamas realistically be disarmed without permanent occupation? If not, can Israel accept a reduced but armed Hamas presence? And if neither path proves viable, how long before the present equilibrium fractures? My embed in the Gaza Strip seems designed not to answer these questions, but to prompt them to the rest of the world to ponder. Criticism is easy, but Israel has to deal in solutions.

Meanwhile, the yellow line is clearly marked, by fluorescent yellow blocks of concrete dotted along the length of the strip. “It is not the type of area where you cross by accident,” Shoshani said. The IDF post we were standing in was deliberately positioned 200 to 300 meters back, allowing time for warnings, leaflets, shots into the air if necessary. Escalation is designed to be gradual.

Yet he seems keen to point out that ceasefires erode incrementally. A sniper attack. A targeted strike in response. Another violation. The cumulative weight builds.

From inside Gaza, the picture is neither triumphant nor chaotic. It is controlled, watchful, provisional. Israel is holding territory, responding to attacks, dismantling infrastructure, insisting on disarmament as the stated end state. As Trump and his two key negotiators — Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner — talk publicly about reconstruction and rebuilding, and as Britain, France, and Canada deal in fantasies of Palestinian statehood, the Israeli soldiers I meet are tasked with the boring, grinding, slow process of degrading Hamas, pushing back when it ventures forward, and keeping alert as it declares it will not disarm.

That thick mud wall Shoshani and I stand behind wasn’t here a few weeks ago. It has been built because the line did not hold well enough. Though the line itself remains in place, what lies beyond it, and what may yet cross it again, remains unresolved.

British pop legend Boy George reaffirmed his love for his Israeli fans and the Jewish state on Monday in a post on X, in which he also referenced the deadly Hamas-led terrorist attack in Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.

A video was posted on X that showed a past performance by Lady Gaga in Israel, in which she shouted to the audience, “You are strong, you are brave, you are confident, and I f–king love you Israel.” Boy George replied to the video on Monday afternoon and started off by saying, “I love Israel too.”

“Blaming an entire people is moronic,” added the Culture Club lead singer, who has been a long-time supporter of Israel. “You can be against war and still love humanity. Good for her,” he noted. “She loves her Israeli fans. Like I do. Some of them were probably killed on Oct 7th. I have DJ’d in Tel Aviv a number of times. I hope I will in the future!”

After the Oct. 7 massacre in Israel, Boy George uploaded a since-deleted post on social media that said, “When you hurt women, children, and the elderly, your cause is doomed. I stand with Israel.”

In the past he has also criticized Pink Floyd frontman Roger Waters for comparing Israel to Nazi Germany. “I always thought Pink Floyd was part of [the] solution but Roger has fallen out of the dream,” Boy George told The Jewish Chronicle in 2023. “When you mix your own hostility with more hostility there is never any peace! Antisemitism is not rock ‘n’ roll!”

Boy George performed in Tel Aviv in 2011 and 2017, rejecting pressure from the boycott, divestment, and sanctions movement against Israel. During the 2017 concert at Tel Aviv’s Menora Mivtachim Arena, the musician performed a segment while wearing a bright yellow outfit adorned with Star of Davids. He was joined on stage by three other original members of the band Culture Club and also performed a duet with Israeli singer Dana International.

In 2020, he collaborated on a song with Israeli artist Asaf Goren titled “Rainbow in the Dark,” which features both English and Hebrew lyrics. Boy George also joined other celebrities in signing an open letter in 2024 that supported Israel’s inclusion in the Eurovision Song Contest that year.

(JTA) — The Rev. Jesse Jackson, the Black leader who sought to build a “rainbow coalition” for America’s future but struggled to include Jews in it, has died at 84.

For American Jews, Jackson’s use of an antisemitic epithet, criticism of Israel and association with the Nation of Islam’s Louis Farrakhan during his first presidential run in 1984 proved hard to overcome, even as the towering figure apologized in part and preached reconciliation.

“This man is brilliant, he is a leader,” Edgar Bronfman, then president of the World Jewish Congress, said in 1992 after inviting Jackson to address its conference in Brussels. “Do I trust him totally? Of course not. Because he is not a Jewish leader, he is a Black leader, he’s got a different agenda. Do I think that he and I can work together to bring the Black and Jewish communities together to fight against racism? Yes.”

Born in the Jim Crow South and educated as a Baptist minister in Chicago, Jackson emerged as a purveyor of a hopeful vision of racial inclusion and economic uplift in the years after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., with whom he had worked. After clashing with other King allies over the appropriate tenor of civil rights activism, he formed his own group — ultimately called Operation PUSH — to advance his vision: uniting groups marginalized economically or politically into a governing majority to achieve economic and social justice.

Soon, his group’s economic boycotts were winning commitments to minority hiring and propelling him into the political mainstream. Jackson succeeded in negotiating the freedom of U.S. hostages abroad, including in Syria and Cuba in 1984. Soon, he was mounting a historic campaign for president, becoming only the second Black national candidate since Reconstruction. In his second Democratic primary run, in 1988, he won 11 primaries and caucuses, nabbing 7 million votes and driving a dramatic expansion in the number of Black registered voters.

But criticism dogged Jackson, even as he notched civil rights and national politics wins. Some in his own community accused him of caring more about the concerns of affluent African-Americans than about the poverty afflicting the majority of Black people in the United States; others charged him with profiting personally off of his advocacy.

Perhaps the most significant breaches came with American Jews, who had played a prominent role in the civil rights movement of the 1960s.

In 1979, he met in Lebanon with Palestinian Liberation Organization leader Yasser Arafat in an effort to broker ties between the group and the United States. At the time, the U.S. position was not to engage with the PLO or its leader until it had acknowledged Israel’s right to exist.

Jackson also visited Israel during the same trip, but two Jewish members of the delegation — including one who helped plan it after working with Jackson to oppose a Nazi march in Skokie, Illinois, the previous year — quit in protest partway through, saying that they had concluded that Jackson was a “dangerous man” who “cares not one bit about the Israeli point of view.”

In 1983, soon after announcing his first presidential campaign, the far-right Jewish Defense League announced a “Jews for Jackson” effort to thwart him. The announcement prompted Jackson’s first denial that he was antisemitic.

Tensions exploded early the next year when Jackson admitted that he had used the term “Hymietown” to describe New York City in what he believed had been a private conversation with a reporter. The term, an offensive slur for Jews that riffs off the name Hyman, smarted for a community that had hoped antisemitism in the United States was a thing of the past.

Jackson first denied making the comments, including during a televised national debate, but then apologized in a speech at a synagogue in Manchester, New Hampshire, ahead of the first presidential primary. “It’s human to err, divine to forgive,” he said, explaining that he had not wanted the comment to disrupt his campaign.

“I appeal to you tonight as a Jewish community to find yourself in the rainbow coalition,” Jackson continued, adding, “I categorically deny that I am either antisemitic or anti-Israel.”

At the same time, Jackson declined to distance himself from Farrakhan, a longtime associate who had introduced him at a Chicago rally. After Farrakhan made new antisemitic comments, calling Judaism a “gutter religion,” Jackson’s campaign denounced the comments but not Farrakhan himself.

That summer, Jackson also made new comments about Israel that violated sacrosanct beliefs among American Jewish leaders. Jackson endorsed the idea of a Palestinian state alongside Israel at a time when the idea was far out of the mainstream of American and Israeli politics. He also raised questions about U.S. military aid to Israel, saying that Israeli weapons were being used to maintain apartheid in South Africa.

Relations had soured so much that Jackson became a wedge issue during the 1988 election, when Republican strategists and figures such as Vice President George Bush suggested that Democrats were not forceful enough in condemning antisemitism.

There were some signs of openness. Jewish leaders, including Rabbi David Saperstein of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism, said Jackson had met privately with them in an effort to mend fences. “It is a different Jackson in 1988 than in 1984,” Abraham Foxman, national director of the Anti-Defamation League, said at the time. “One has to recognize and welcome that certain sensitivity he is now showing.”

By the early 1990s, Jackson had made gains in building trust with segments of the Jewish community, speaking at synagogues and Jewish community forums and participating in Holocaust remembrance events. In July 1992, he made two headlining speeches condemning hatred of Jews, at the Democratic National Convention and to a World Jewish Congress meeting in Brussels.

In the World Jewish Congress speech, he condemned antisemitism, praised Zionism as a “liberation movement” and called for Jews and Blacks to renew their joint fight against racism.

“Let us not turn closed scars into open wounds in the name of freedom and candor,” he said. “Let us be wise enough to act our way into a way of thinking, and not just think and talk ourselves into not acting.”

Bronfman, the WJC’s president, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency at the time that he had invited Jackson to speak over the objections of many Jewish voices, because he wanted to make sure that a conference focused on racism against Jews also examined racism in the United States.

The speech won over some in attendance. “I was proved to be wrong,” said an Australian co-chair of the WJC’s board who had opposed Jackson’s invitation. “I do see genuine opportunities now, if we move forward, to some sort of a rapprochement.”

But Foxman said Jackson would still have to do more to convince him. “It is a record that has been marred by an insensitive view of Jewish history, the Holocaust, Zionism and the modern Jewish state, its government and their policies,” he said. “One speech to the Jewish community in the Palace of Congresses in Brussels will not repair it.”

Foxman said he would work with Jackson if Jackson chose to deliver similar comments before Black audiences in the United States.

By the late 1990s, a thaw appeared to have taken place. Yeshiva University invited Jackson to speak on the topic of Black-Jewish relations. While Jackson faced some protests at Park Avenue, at Y.U., President Norman Lamm praised him as a “leading, vibrant” activist who has “performed miracles in fostering racial harmony.”

During that speech, Jackson denied that “Black antisemitism,” then a topic of growing concern among Jewish leaders, was a structural phenomenon, saying that any hatred that existed was confined to misguided individuals and not a product of the community as a whole. He also argued that the far right posed a greater threat to Jews in the United States.

Around the same time, Jackson participated in a vigil on behalf of Iranian Jews outside Park East Synagogue in New York City. Rabbi Marc Schneier, whose father Arthur is Park East’s rabbi, said following Jackson’s death, “I have lost a cherished friend.”

Jackson maintained personal relationships with other Jewish figures. Following the death in 2021 of Robert Marx, a pioneering social justice advocate and leading Reform rabbi in Chicago who drew inspiration from his experiences marching with King, Jackson issued a bereft statement praising him as “the Jewish voice for justice” and saying, “We prayed together, sang together, and marched together. When Nazis marched in Skokie, we fought hate together. We have always been together. I love him so much. I miss him already.”

Some Jewish groups eulogized Jackson on Tuesday, though often acknowledging the wrinkles in his record. “It’s no secret that there were also very painful moments in Rev. Jackson’s relationship with the Jewish community, and he is a testament to engagement even when there are deep disagreements and pain,” said the Jewish Council for Public Affairs, a civil rights group, in a statement. “He went on to be a key ally to the Jewish community, underscoring the urgency of building strong, long-lasting alliances against bigotry wherever it exists.”

Jackson announced in 2017 that he had Parkinson’s disease and had been increasingly out of the public eye. He shared a stage with Farrakhan at a memorial service for the singer Aretha Franklin in 2018 and traveled to Auschwitz in 2019 for a memorial service for the Roma victims of the Holocaust before making his last major public appearance in a wheelchair at the 2024 Democratic National Convention in Chicago. His organization announced in November that he had been hospitalized, and his family announced on Tuesday that he had “died peacefully.”

He is survived by his wife Jacqueline; six children including his son Jesse Jackson, Jr., who was elected to Congress in Illinois; and several grandchildren.

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