I’m an Arab doctor at Israel’s Rambam Hospital. Calling out racism should go both ways

Rambam Hospital’s Emergency Department.

Anonymous writes in Haaretz on 17 August 2026:

I’m an Arab woman. I’m a doctor. And I work in a hospital in Israel.

Since October 7, I’ve been living in a dissonance that’s hard to describe in words. I come to work, put on scrubs and treat patients from all segments of society. I do my job and try to be a doctor above all. But at the same time, on a daily basis I hear comments around me that I consider inhumane – that we need to “flatten,” “destroy,” “kill.”

And I remain silent. Not because I have nothing to say. Not because I agree. But because I’m well aware of what could happen if I express my thoughts out loud. We have already seen medical staff members pay a high price in their workplace for their statements. So we’ve learned to be careful; we’ve learned when to speak and with whom to speak, if at all.

And this is perhaps what hurts me most. Because I work at Rambam Hospital. A place where thousands of staff members, Jews and Arabs, work side by side. The Arab staff members continue to come every day. On shifts, at night, on holidays, during sirens and wars with changing names. They care for ordinary people, the war-wounded and soldiers. We treat patients above ground and three floors underground, too. We operate, carry out cardiac catheterizations, deliver babies, drain fluids, provide psychiatric care, nurse, clean and, in essence, bear this system on our shoulders.

And throughout this entire period, even though each of us has their own story, their own pain and their own opinions – we come to work and treat human beings.

I often feel that we’re expected to be “robots.” Not to feel. Not to react. Not to be offended. Not to be angry. Not to speak.

And then comes a case where it is claimed that Arab staff members behaved inhumanely toward a helpless soldier. I don’t know what exactly happened there, and I don’t think guilt should be determined without checking the facts. If there was racist behavior, it must be condemned and seriously investigated.

But I can’t help asking: Why doesn’t this standard always apply? Why, when an allegation is made against Arab staff members, does the story immediately turn into headlines, posts, condemnations and a public uproar, while racist comments that I myself hear, including statements calling to destroy millions of people, can be uttered in the hallway as if it’s just a normal conversation? Why is the pain of one side considered legitimate, while the pain of the other side is viewed as something that must remain behind closed doors?

I’m not asking for Arab staff members to be treated differently. I’m asking that we be treated by the same standard. If racism is unacceptable, it’s always unacceptable. If incitement is unacceptable, it’s unacceptable even when said by someone who is on the “right side” of the story. And if a hospital is supposed to be a place that treats human beings – that humanity must apply to everyone.

Perhaps the easiest thing to forget is how dependent Israel’s healthcare system is on Arab staff members. They aren’t a transparent workforce. They aren’t scenery. And they certainly aren’t robots. They’re doctors. They’re nurses. They’re lab technicians, maintenance workers and many other professionals. They’re my colleagues.  And they come to work every day – even when it’s very hard for them.

I’m not writing this to justify anyone’s racism. I’m writing this because I’m tired of the fact that sensitivity, empathy and the right to speak freely always belong to only one side.

The author’s name is known to Haaretz.

This article is reproduced in its entirety