Not Every Truth Should Be Published. Certainly Not Every Rumor

Social media is flooded with posts revealing intimate details about victims of the October 7 massacre. The author argues that the pursuit of justice does not justify violating families' dignity or compromising future legal proceedings.

YnetAuthor: איילת רזין בית-אור
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Not Every Truth Should Be Published. Certainly Not Every Rumor
Photo: Ynet / צילום: Shutterstock

In recent days, posts have been circulating on social media describing severe acts of violence allegedly committed against certain victims, sometimes including their names, photos, and intimate details about the circumstances of their deaths. Some of these publications receive thousands of shares within hours. They are distributed by people seeking to show the world the cruelty of Hamas terrorists, to strengthen Israeli legitimacy, and to ensure that the crimes committed on October 7 are not denied and not forgotten.

The goal is understandable. Sometimes it is also worthy. But a worthy goal does not make every means legitimate. Even when a certain publication has a factual basis, it does not mean it should be published publicly. And even when the information seems convincing, filmed, or attributed to a "security source," this does not make it a proven fact. The distance between an indication, partial testimony, professional assessment, and a fact that can be determined with certainty is great. On social media, this distance is erased at the click of a button. Sensitive information becomes a story. Factual complexity becomes a headline. And the names and faces of murdered women become a tool in a war of consciousness — sometimes without the knowledge of their families, and certainly without their consent.

As someone who has been involved since October 7 in the international struggle for recognition of the sexual violence committed during the massacre and in captivity, I know how important it is to distinguish between what is known, what can be estimated, and what we will never be able to know for certain. There are testimonies, indications, and significant findings. They require investigation, documentation, and recognition. But not every piece of information collected in interrogation rooms, in professional testimonies, or in conversations with parties involved in documentation is worthy of distribution on the network. On the contrary: sometimes responsibility requires silence.

Even a description that does not state the name of a victim can cause harm. When details are published about the place where a body was found, about her age, about her clothing, about the circumstances of her discovery, or about a specific settlement, many families immediately begin to fear: Is this our daughter? Our sister? Our mother? Is this a detail we were not told? Does everyone know something we do not know? For someone who shares the post, it is just another piece of evidence of the atrocity. For a bereaved family, it can be a reopening of the wound, a new wave of anxiety, and sometimes also a public exposure they did not choose.

Similarly, it is especially important to allow survivors who are alive to tell their story themselves — at the time they choose, in their own words, and within the boundaries they set. The story belongs to them, not to spokespeople on their behalf, not to activists, and not for the needs of public diplomacy. Even when the intention is to fight for them, one must not get ahead of them, fill in details for them, interpret their silence, or turn their experience into a public tool without their consent. The right to tell also includes the right not to tell, to tell only part, to change the version over time, or to stop. Regaining control over the story is part of regaining control over life.

The harm is not only moral. It also harms the struggle itself. Early publication of sensitive details — photos, graphic descriptions, names — may harm the ability to use this information in future legal proceedings. International prosecutors, including at the International Criminal Court in The Hague, may disqualify testimonies that were "contaminated" by uncontrolled public distribution, or determine that the information does not meet the standards of admissible evidence. Documentation is important, but it must be done in a way that preserves its evidentiary value and human dignity.

An unsubstantiated claim distributed as absolute truth may be used later by massacre deniers. One erroneous publication is enough to allow them to claim that all evidence is fabricated. Anyone seeking international recognition of crimes must be especially careful about accuracy, verification, and transparency regarding the limitations of the information. Credibility is not an obstacle to public diplomacy; it is the condition for its existence.

Several simple rules are required here: do not publish a personal and sensitive claim without solid verification; do not identify a victim without the family's permission; do not distribute details for which there is no clear public need; distinguish between a finding, testimony, and assessment; and ask before every share not only "Will this help Israel?" but also "Who might this harm?".

The struggle for the truth is essential. The world did indeed struggle, and sometimes refused, to recognize the testimonies of sexual violence committed on October 7 and in captivity. One must not give up on this struggle. But precisely because it is so important, it must not be managed through rumors, exaggerations, or the exposure of private information. The victims are not a means to achieve legitimacy. Their families should not pay the price of public diplomacy. Even in the face of denial, indifference, and international hypocrisy, we must maintain our moral boundary. Not at any price. Not at their expense.

Adv. Ayelet Razin Bet-Or is an expert in promoting gender equality and combating gender-based violence, former Director-General of the Authority for the Advancement of the Status of Women.

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