On the morning of Oct. 7, 2023, I woke up late and checked the news. My feed runs in three languages, English, Arabic, and French, so I usually see the same event through very different lenses. That morning, every lens showed horror. The images were unbearable, and the videos sent a chill through me. I pictured my own children at that music festival. I pictured my family living in one of the kibbutzim along the Gaza border. I called friends in Israel, Arabs and Jews alike. Everyone I reached was frightened, confused, and quietly hoping for some kind of miracle.

By the afternoon, a different kind of content had taken over. Account after account was celebrating. Hamas fighters were heroes, and Israel was a joke. Footage of soldiers being dragged away and hostages being carried off was passed around as proof of courage. Gaza, people wrote, was finally going to be free. Free of Jews, they meant. Voices I had long considered moderate, even enlightened, went along with the herd. They were happy to see Jews killed and Israel invaded.