There are moments in history when the most unsettling truths do not come from one’s enemies, but from within.
From those who know the past most intimately.
From those whose moral authority is built not on ideology, but on memory.
In December 2025, two of Israel’s most respected Holocaust and genocide scholars—Prof. Daniel Blatman and Prof. Amos Goldberg of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem—published a deeply unsettling opinion article in Haaretz. What they argued was not casual, rhetorical, or activist hyperbole. It was a grave historical judgment.
Their conclusion was stark:
What is happening in Gaza is not Auschwitz.
But it belongs to the same family of crimes: genocide.
Why This Voice Matters
Blatman and Goldberg are not marginal figures. They are historians whose professional lives have been devoted to studying Nazi crimes, genocide mechanisms, memory, and moral responsibility. Their scholarship is rooted in the very catastrophe that shaped modern Jewish identity.
That is precisely why their words cannot be dismissed as antisemitic, ignorant, or hostile to Jewish history. On the contrary, their argument emerges from inside the Holocaust tradition, not against it.
As they stress, recognizing genocide is not about equivalence—it is about patterns, intent, and outcome.
“Genocide is not defined only by gas chambers,” they warn,
“but by systematic destruction of a people—physically, socially, and existentially.”
“Not Auschwitz” — and Why That Distinction Matters
The historians are careful. They explicitly reject crude comparisons:
“Gaza is not Auschwitz. There are no extermination camps, no industrial killing facilities.”
This distinction is crucial. It preserves the historical specificity of the Holocaust while rejecting the dangerous idea that genocide only exists when it perfectly replicates Nazi methods.
Modern genocide, they argue, often appears differently:
- Through mass displacement
- Through destruction of civilian infrastructure
- Through siege, starvation, and unlivable conditions
- Through dehumanizing language by political and military leaders
In this sense, Gaza represents a contemporary form of genocidal violence, not a repetition of the past, but its evolution.
The Moral Reckoning Ahead
Perhaps the most haunting part of their article is not legal—it is historical and ethical.
Blatman and Goldberg predict that Israel will not escape judgment, even if it escapes accountability today.
“This period will be remembered,” they write,
“as a genocide that will stain Jewish history from now on and forever.”
This is not a threat. It is a historian’s forecast.
They invoke a future moment—years or decades from now—when Israeli society will be forced to confront its own actions, much as other nations have had to confront theirs. A moment when denial gives way to reckoning, and justifications collapse under archival evidence and survivor testimony.
A Crisis of Holocaust Memory
One of the article’s most profound contributions is its challenge to the instrumentalization of Holocaust memory.
Goldberg, in particular, has long warned that when Holocaust remembrance is used to justify permanent violence, it ceases to be a moral lesson and becomes a political shield.
“Holocaust memory was meant to be a warning,” he has argued elsewhere,
“not a license.”
In Gaza, the historians suggest, the moral inheritance of “Never Again” has been inverted—used not to prevent atrocity, but to rationalize it.
Internal Dissent, Not External Hostility
This article is not an official position of Haaretz or the Hebrew University. It appears in the Opinion section, and it is fiercely contested within Israeli society. The Israeli government categorically rejects the genocide accusation, insisting the war targets Hamas and complies with international law.
Yet that is precisely what gives this piece its power:
It represents internal dissent, not external condemnation.
It shows that the debate over Gaza is not simply Israel versus the world—but Israel wrestling with itself.
Why the World Should Pay Attention
At a time when the International Court of Justice weighs provisional measures, when mass civilian death is livestreamed daily, and when political language grows increasingly detached from human suffering, the intervention of Blatman and Goldberg forces an uncomfortable question:
What happens when the guardians of genocide memory say the line has been crossed?
History rarely announces itself in advance.
But sometimes, historians do.
And when they do, it is worth listening.
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