Who is Gadi Eisenkot? The arrow on the map and the one in his heart

There are clichés that someone, at some point, must have thought of for the very first time. And yet, when that person uttered them without ever having heard them before, they carried a very profound meaning, beyond the hackneyed connotation they have today. When, for the first time, someone must have said that ‘war has a cost’, they were probably really thinking about what they had lost. It is likely that the word ‘cost’, when paired with the word ‘war’, truly conveyed the scale of the loss they were facing, by contrasting it with the sense of insecurity or necessity that had driven them to fight. To say to Gadi Eisenkot today that ‘war has a cost’ is to restore the true, profound meaning to this hackneyed phrase, because no one understands its painful complexity in its entirety quite like the former Israeli Chief of the General Staff.

Eisenkot is now a member of the war cabinet, that very select body formed within the Israeli government following the Hamas attack on 7 October. For Eisenkot, the decision to join was not an easy one, as it meant aligning himself with the most right-wing government in Israel’s history, full of warmongers who have always known very little about war. Precisely for this reason—because Israel, having placed itself in the hands of figures as eccentric as they are dangerous, risked ceasing to exist—he decided to heed Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s call and joined the core group that makes war decisions, excluding the rest of the majority. Eisenkot, along with a handful of others – including the Prime Minister, Defence Minister Yoav Gallant and his colleague Benny Gantz – makes all of Israel’s most important decisions in wartime. Eisenkot also decided who to send into battle, how to launch the operation inside the Gaza Strip, and how many soldiers were needed. He approves every operation on the ground.

Gadi Eisenkot was aware that among the soldiers who had entered the Strip was his son Gal, who, like his father before him, was pursuing a military career. General Eisenkot was aware of the risks of war in Gaza, a territory whose dangers the soldiers would only discover once they had entered, and which even a preliminary external assessment had already shown to be riddled with traps, with an extensive network of underground tunnels where Hamas terrorists could hide. Entering Gaza was a gamble; the enormous risks were the only certainty, and Gal Eisenkot, the general’s son, died sixty-two days after the war began: he was in the Jabaliya area, in northern Gaza, approaching the entrance to a tunnel that had recently been discovered, when Hamas terrorists, from a distance, detonated an explosive trap. The former Chief of the General Staff planned the war in which his son would die, hoping it would not happen whilst knowing full well that it might.

The entire war cabinet was present on the day of the funeral. Herzliya, just north of Tel Aviv, was grey. General Eisenkot took to the stage and promised: ‘We will look after the country you loved so dearly; we will do everything we can to make the right decisions; we will be worthy of your sacrifice and that of all the fallen.’ At this moment in the history of the Jewish state, looking after it means making it clear to our enemies that 7 October must never be repeated. It means war.

The relationship between a general – who later became Chief of the General Staff – and a son who wishes to follow in his footsteps is bound to be a troubled one. In many Israeli family narratives, a third presence emerges—loved and criticized, strong yet always seeking protection: the State of Israel. This dynamic is common to both ordinary and illustrious stories; it is said that Sonia Gelman, wife of Shimon Peres, detested political life, hated official trips, and wanted nothing more than to remain at the Alumot kibbutz that she and her husband had helped to found, but every time she complained about the official engagements that tied the family down, she would regret it, apologise and urge her husband to spend as much time as possible with David Ben-Gurion for the sake of Israel. It is a trait shared by many in a country conceived as a creature to be cared for. The same sentiment has always been present in the Eisenkot family.

Gal was born twenty-five years ago, when his father was serving as commander of the Golani Brigade, one of the army’s most important brigades, which has always taken part in the riskiest, most daring and most necessary operations. Gadi learnt that Gal was about to be born because his wife rang him and calmly told him she was leaving the house to go to hospital. Gadi’s response was far from calm; he rushed off, but arrived too late, after Gal had already been born. It was the beginning of a complex relationship, characterised by mutual respect and some recriminations. When his son said he intended to pursue a military career, he confessed that he had always missed his father. Shortly before he died, whilst the whole of Israel was glued to the government’s announcements listing the names of the hostages Hamas was releasing, Gal rang him to say that the truce – which his father had helped to negotiate – made him very proud. The soldier died shortly after the end of that truce, which the terrorists in the Gaza Strip had also used to reorganise and resupply themselves. Every soldier now in Gaza, every Israeli official in the war cabinet, knew that military operations following the truce would be more dangerous.

Benjamin Netanyahu was also present at Gal’s funeral, and whilst the country looked on with pride and sorrow at the story of the general who had lost his son, it could not help but recall that, by contrast, the Prime Minister’s son – a reservist – had remained in the United States, from where, between social media comments and photos in swimwear, he continued to embarrass his father, who had done nothing to compel him to return to the country. Gadi Eisenkot has become the symbol of those who put national interests before personal gain and has emerged as the antithesis of the Netanyahu family, with the Prime Minister’s wife ready to grant her son any privilege whatsoever just to keep him away from Gaza. The former Chief of the General Staff is the mastermind behind Israel’s recent wars and has helped to modernise the army. He is the driving force behind the strategy of recent conflicts, starting with the multi-year plan known as Gideon, which aims to combine the use of force with deterrence – a rapid response to prevent further actions against Israel and to demonstrate to other enemies the scale of the Israeli counter-offensive: if you strike me, I will strike back immediately and harder. Everything intersects in these intertwined stories; everything seems to come full circle, raising questions whose answers lie in the past. In 2006, during the war against Lebanon, Israel responded by destroying a neighbourhood called Daniyeh. It is situated in the southern part of Beirut and was then, as it is now, Hezbollah’s headquarters. The Shia militiamen remained there and, over the years, opened the neighbourhood’s doors to some members of Hamas as well, offering them offices and homes. On 2 January, an Israeli drone reached Daniyeh and eliminated one of Hamas’s leaders, Saleh al-Arouri, one of its most prominent figures. It was a return to the past, because in 2006, the Daniyeh neighbourhood had come to symbolise Israel’s determination never again to be dragged into war: behind the operations carried out there was Eisenkot, who a few years later explained that the destruction of Daniyeh was not a whim or an act of revenge, but rather a message directed at any city that might fire shots at Israel in the future. Any enemy would have to bear in mind the ruins of Daniyeh, for that would be the response of the Jewish state, which would not allow anyone to threaten its very existence. Eisenkot was the first Chief of the General Staff of Moroccan origin; his parents had moved together to Israel, where they had four children. Prime Minister Ehud Barak was the first to appoint him to the government, and from that moment on he was responsible for wars and peacekeeping – for every action that kept him away from his son Gal, but which helped to keep the state safe, right up until 7 October.

It is often the case that it is men of war who speak of peace; in Israel this is a constant, and Eisenkot is no exception. The general who suggested that anyone wishing to risk an attack on the Jewish state should look at the ruins of Daniyeh is, in fact, one of the great theorists of coexistence, advocating a two-state solution that would grant Palestinians and Israelis equal rights over their own territory.

The story of Gadi Eisenkot still has an ending yet to be written, as if the death of a son who grew up with the same passion for his country’s survival were not heart-wrenching enough. We must move forward, imagining that the war in Gaza is over, that the assessment of the damage and the dangers is underway, and that this is something Israel will not manage alone. We must turn our thoughts to the moment when investigations begin within the country, when those responsible for the failures of 7 October will be sought out, and a long list of names will be drawn up, containing all those who have held important roles in recent years. The starting point will be the notion that the mistakes leading to the Hamas attack must also be traced back in time, to every head of the intelligence services, the army and the government. It will be a lengthy investigation, which will even reach Eisenkot, his doctrine, his commitments and his responsibilities. ‘Gadi,’ Benny Gantz told him at his son’s funeral, ‘when we approved the plans, we knew what they meant; we knew that the arrows on the maps could become arrows in the hearts of families in Israel.’ The arrow has struck Gadi Eisenkot’s heart, and for the general, taking stock of the costs is a burden he must bear alone.