י אל נא נטיח היום האשמות על הרוצחים

These are the precise words of Moshe Dayan in 1956

In April 1956, Moshe Dayan, then Chief of Staff of the Israel Defense Forces, delivered a remembered eulogy for Roi Rothberg, a 21-year-old security officer at Kibbutz Nahal Oz killed near the Gaza border.

Yesterday is today.

This was no ordinary tribute but a raw meditation on war, land and price of survival.

Decades later, Dayan’s words still echo and have been regarded as one of the most influential in Israeli history, briefing sacrifices and challenges faced by that generation when building and defending their nation.

I want to point out the historical context, content and legacy.

Roi Rothberg, aged 21, served as a messenger boy for the IDF during the 1948 Arab-Israeli War, studied at Mikveh school and later enlisted in the IDF, joining the infantry and completing an officer’s course.

Settling in Nahal Oz, the first Nahal settlement established in 1953, Rothberg became the kibbutz's security officer, tasked with chasing off infiltrators in a region marked by frequent cross-border incursions by Arabs for petty theft, escalating into violence in early 1956.

The period leading up to Rothberg's death was particularly tense. On april 4, 1956, three israeli soldiers were killed by egyptian forces on the Gaza border, prompting Israel to shell Gaza City on April 5, killing 58 civilians and four egyptian soldiers. Egypt responded by resuming attacks from april 11 to 17, killing 14 israelis.

On april 29, Rothberg was ambushed while on horseback by Arab workers, including an Egyptian policeman and a Palestinian farmer. He was shot, beaten, and his body dragged to Gaza, where it was mutilated before being returned the same day after UN intervention.

Yesterday is today.

The eulogy, lasting 285 words in Hebrew, began with an acknowledgment:

Early yesterday morning Roi was murdered. The quiet of the spring morning dazzled him and he did not see those waiting in ambush for him, at the edge of the furrow.

And continued:

Let us not cast blame on the murderers today.

For eight years they have been sitting in the refugee camps in Gaza, and before their eyes we have been transforming the lands and the villages, where they and their fathers dwelt, into our estate. It is not among the Arabs in Gaza, but in our own midst that we must seek Roi's blood.

This admission of moral ambiguity was revolutionary at a time when israeli narrative often framed conflicts in black-and-white terms. Dayan forced his audience to confront the human cost of their existence. He painted Rotberg not just as a victim, but as a symbol of an existential paradox.

Dayan emphasized the generational burden:

Have we forgotten that this group of young people dwelling at Nahal Oz is bearing the heavy gates of Gaza on its shoulders?

And he warned against naivety, stating:

Beyond the furrow of the border, a sea of hatred and desire for revenge is swelling, awaiting the day when serenity will dull our path, for the day when we will heed the ambassadors of malevolent hypocrisy who call upon us to lay down our arms.

The speech concluded with a call to remain armed and vigilant:

Without the steel helmet and the canon's maw, we will not be able to plant a tree and build a home. This is the fate of our generation. This is our life's choice - to be prepared and armed, strong and determined, lest the sword be stricken from our fist and our lives cut down.

Next day, Dayan repeated his eulogy on the radio. But at Ben Gurion's request, he deleted the sentence that opens this text.

Two are my thoughts almost 70 years later.

• The scenario has not changed. The violence coming from Gaza is constant. And yet, we cannot fail to see them as human beings. Very similar words were uttered last year by Ami Ayalon (former head of Shin Bet).

• The lights and leftovers of Medinat Israel continue. Ben Gurion thought that israeli people were not ready to listen to certain things. Today, journalists are arrested and interrogated and civil defence and military legends are criticised for trying to see Palestinians as human beings.

In short, yesterday is today.