Twenty Years Ago Today… the Wounds That Never Healed

Friday August 15, 2025 – כ״א אָב תשפ”ה

Twenty years ago today—August 15, 2005—the last orange ribbons of protest fluttered from rearview mirrors and synagogue pews across Israel. Israel’s disengagement from Gaza and four West Bank/Northern Samaria communities was presented as a unilateral act of pragmatism: to reduce friction, free Israel from governing 1.5 million Palestinians, and secure the major West Bank settlement blocs. For those watching, it was painful; for those carrying it out, gut-wrenching. For opponents, it became a trauma that never faded.

Two days later, on August 17, thousands of IDF soldiers and police entered Gush Katif to remove residents who refused to leave, along with thousands of activists who had come to resist. The difficult images of taking people off roofs, dragging people out of their homes, synagogues, greenhouses, farms, and communities remain vividly in our psyche two decades later. “The Disengagement” etched itself into the consciousness of the settler movement and the wider Religious Zionist community—a deep wound, a rupture in what many believed was the unstoppable march toward the messianic redemption of the Greater Land of Israel.

The plan came from Prime Minister Ariel Sharon—ironically, the “father of the settlements”—who argued that leaving Gaza would strengthen Israel’s security and legitimacy. In reality, the vacuum left behind was quickly filled by Hamas rockets, terror tunnels, an entrenched regime bent on Israel’s destruction, and a displaced Jewish population—some not permanently resettled for a decade. Hamas soon ousted the Palestinian Authority and ruled Gaza outright. Every few years, violence flared: rockets rained on border communities, Israel responded with military force, and ceasefires left Hamas in power.

One of the most contentious flaws was that the pullout was unilateral—no negotiations, no reciprocal commitments, no recognition of a border. Many opposed the idea outright; others supported withdrawal in theory but saw the way it was done as a missed opportunity for a genuine peace arrangement.

Then came October 7, 2023—the Hamas massacre that redefined “failure” in Israeli security doctrine. It was not just an intelligence collapse but the implosion of a strategic paradigm.

For the national-religious camp, disengagement had always been more than policy—it was a theological betrayal. Many viewed the State of Israel as a divine vessel for redemption. For them, the destruction of Gush Katif was a rejection not only of citizens but of God’s plan. The orange ribbons became emblems of defiance and mourning.

That wound has shaped politics ever since. Distrust toward secular leadership and the courts hardened into a belief that only an ideologically committed far right could safeguard the Land. The trauma propelled religious Zionists into power—many in today’s government—determined to “correct” what they see as a historic and spiritual wrong and to fulfill the Bible’s messianic vision. The anger and feeling of abandonment of the courts and the judicial system were one of the many factors that led to the attempted judicial overhaul of 2023, and became a core element of the growing rift in Israeli society over fundamental questions of democracy, majority rule, and authority.

For them, October 7 didn’t just reopen the wound—it vindicated their mission. Hamas’s atrocities became proof that “land for peace” is a deadly illusion and that abandoning any part of the Land invites catastrophe. The call to rebuild Gaza’s settlements began almost immediately.

Ayelet Schissel, spokesperson for the Nachala Settlement Movement, said:

“After the expulsion from Gush Katif, the will to return to the Gaza Strip… always remained with us.”

In October 2024, during Sukkot, a rally near the Gaza border featured settler leader Daniella Weiss openly calling for the transfer of Gaza’s civilian population. Just last week, about 1,000 activists marched from Sderot to the border, demanding scouting missions for new settlements—backed by six cabinet ministers and 16 coalition MKs.

We must be careful. The lesson of October 7 cannot be reduced to a slogan. Yes, disengagement left Gaza in hostile hands—but it also reflected our shared failure, Israelis and Palestinians alike, to create a political reality that is neither near-permanent occupation nor perpetual war. The drive to resettle Gaza is not just misguided policy—it is an attempt to impose a messianic agenda as state doctrine, and it is gaining traction.

Disengagement stands as both a symptom and a cause of our divisions. It showed that Israel can take bold action—but when done unilaterally and without a sustainable political horizon, it can end in disaster. It exposed the fragility of the covenant between Israel’s government and its citizens.

As we grapple with the grief of October 7 and the ongoing humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza, we must resist the seductive simplicity of “we should never have left.” The truth is more complex: disengagement failed because there was no plan for the day after, and because ideology—whether messianic or pragmatic—blinded us to reality’s complexity.

We need religious and Zionist voices who can articulate a vision of Jewish destiny that doesn’t demand holding every inch of land or transferring millions of Palestinians. Messianic narratives thrive in a leadership vacuum. History warns us: in 1968, PM Levi Eshkol’s reluctant acquiescence to early settlement efforts paved the way for today’s entanglements. PM Netanyahu, beholden to Kahanist messianic partners, is unlikely to draw the needed red line—but that is precisely what this moment demands.

We must invest in real plans for Gaza’s future—humanitarian relief, secure arrangements, and political frameworks that ensure Israel’s stability. Public campaigns should make clear the massive human, military, and economic costs of reoccupying Gaza. Stopping resettlement will require more than slogans: it will take a united political front across the opposition and moderate coalition members, legal safeguards, a viable security strategy, and a moral vision as strong as the settlers’ theological certainty.

On this twentieth anniversary of one of Israel’s most painful decisions, we must draw a clear red line: no civilian return to Gaza. Enshrine it in law. Bind it in coalition agreements. Let security policy—not messianic ideology—shape our future.

We honor the memory of those lost on October 7 not by repeating past mistakes, but by refusing to condemn ourselves to endless war, isolation, and moral decay. Resettling Gaza will not redeem us—it will destroy us.