The documentary NAZA—named after the Israeli military’s collateral-damage assessment interface—premiered at the Venice Film Festival in early September 2026 after three years of clandestine production. Directors Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor, both Israeli journalists, assembled anonymous testimony from current and former IDF and intelligence personnel who described in graphic detail how the system can map every building in the Gaza Strip and predict civilian casualties. One interviewee recalled a strike approved by the army that the software projected would kill 500 Palestinians, noting the algorithm makes no distinction between children and adults.
Within days the film travelled to the United States, slated to open at the New York Film Festival on September 30, 2026. The timing coincided with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu‘s incendiary address to the United Nations, which sparked protests, arrests and a wave of diplomatic walk-outs. While other Israeli documentaries have screened in New York—such as a LGBTQ+ rights piece at the New York Jewish Film Festival and a film about an October 7 hostage—the reaction to NAZA has been uniquely hostile inside Israel.
Government and military denunciations
High-ranking officials quickly framed the film as either a security breach or outright fabrication. IDF Chief of the General Staff Eyal Zamir labeled it a “blood libel” while National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir accused the directors of colluding with Hamas, calling them “friends” of the militant group. Simultaneously, IDF spokespersons argued the documentary disclosed classified operational data, violating Israeli law. Even liberal voices, such as Yashar leader Gadi Eisenkot warned the film presented a “distorted and one-sided picture” during a period of national distress.
Netanyahu’s unprecedented citizenship proposal
On September 16, 2026, Netanyahu posted a video message announcing a sweeping punitive package: a twenty-fold increase in the fine for defamation against IDF supporters, raising it to 1 million shekels (about $330,000), and a vow to strip citizenship from anyone who “defames IDF supporters abroad.” He singled out Abraham and Szor, stating, “their place does not belong with us.” Revoking citizenship from Israeli Jews on such grounds has no historical precedent; previous cases involved Palestinians from East Jerusalem or the rare petition to strip Yigal Amir’s citizenship after the Rabin assassination, which the Supreme Court rejected.
Both filmmakers are native-born Jews with no dual nationality, previously credited for the documentary “No Other Land.” The proposed measure therefore touches on the core of Israel’s Law of Return which guarantees every Jew the right to full citizenship. Critics note that the law, formalised in 1950-52, already contains language allowing revocation for actions that threaten state security, a loophole cited by some right-wing politicians since the 2000s.
Legal backdrop and future implications
Israel’s judicial history shows great reluctance to strip citizens of their nationality. In 2022 the Supreme Court upheld a statute permitting revocation for “breach of trust against the state,” but the bar remains high. President Isaac Herzog dismissed Netanyahu’s latest suggestion as “completely irrelevant,” and legal scholars warn that any attempt to strip Abraham and Szor would likely be overturned. Nonetheless, the episode illustrates how the debate over dissent has migrated from political rhetoric to concrete legislative proposals.
Beyond the immediate case, the controversy foreshadows a broader trend: proposals to link citizenship to loyalty, echoed in past calls for “loyalty oaths” by figures such as former Deputy Prime Minister Avigdor Lieberman and Likud MK Gilad Erdan. While the current administration may not achieve the extreme scenario of mass revocations, the dialogue has shifted, making it easier for future governments to weaponise nationality against critics—whether they are Palestinians, anti-Zionist Jews, or journalists like Abraham and Szor.
As NAZA prepares to reach a North American audience, the film’s impact extends beyond its stark images of warfare. It has become a litmus test for Israel’s tolerance of internal criticism and a barometer of how far the state will go to defend its military narrative. Whether the documentary catalyzes policy change or remains a cultural flashpoint, its reverberations will be watched closely by legal experts, human-rights advocates, and anyone interested in the evolving relationship between art, dissent, and citizenship.
