Visiting Israel, as I did last week, is a somber experience as the war in Gaza approaches its ninth month. I've been going there for 25 years and have never seen Israelis look so gloomy as they do now, not even during the Second Intifada in the early 2000s, when Palestinian terrorists regularly bombed public buses.
“Sadness and hopelessness permeates everyone,” one Israeli journalist told a group of visiting American academics organized by the nonpartisan Academic Exchange. “We are in a dire situation,” said a member of an Israeli think tank. [1948] “I've never been more pessimistic about Israel's future than I am now. I'm depressed. I'm scared,” confessed one archaeologist. These are not isolated voices. A May poll found that the number of Israeli Jews who said they were very optimistic about Israel's future had fallen to 37 percent, down from 48 percent in March.
Many analysts have noted how Israelis are traumatized by the horrific Hamas attack on October 7th. And for good reason. In my lifetime, the United States has experienced two great national traumas, 20 years apart: the Iran hostage crisis of 1979-1981 and the terrorist attacks on Washington and New York on September 11, 2001. Israel experienced two catastrophes on the same day: Hamas killed more than 1,200 Israelis and kidnapped about 250, the worst disaster to befall the Jewish people since the Holocaust.
Across Israel, a steady stream of remains of the roughly 80 hostages believed to still be alive in Gaza. Many wear yellow ribbons, and signs reading “Bring them home” are everywhere. In such a small country, everyone seems to relate to the tragedy. One tearful woman recounts how her best friend's daughter is still being held in Gaza, and how her own daughter, a soldier, narrowly escaped a horrific fate on October 7 at a military base overrun by Hamas fighters.
Israel is conducting its largest ever mobilization of reservists, and citizen-soldiers are exhausted by the constant call-ups. One Hebrew University student and tank reservist described having to study for a university class in the middle of the night while sitting in a tank near the Lebanese border. “Many of us are exhausted,” he said. He and other reservists are infuriated that the ultra-Orthodox community of 1.2 million in a country of 7 million Jews continues to be exempt from military service, increasing the burden on the rest of society. (Israel's Supreme Court ruled on Tuesday that the ultra-Orthodox should be conscripted.)
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That burden may be heavy as Israel faces a possible major war with Lebanon's Iran-backed militia Hezbollah. Hezbollah's military power far exceeds that of Hamas. Since October 7, Hezbollah has shelled northern Israel, forcing 60,000 Israelis from their homes. Israel has retaliated with airstrikes on Hezbollah leaders and strongholds. Now Israelis are demanding that the army expel Hezbollah from the border so that refugees inside Israel can return to their homes in time for the start of the new school term in the fall. But doing so risks plunging the already-stretched IDF into another dangerous quagmire while Hezbollah fires potentially 150,000 missiles at targets across Israel.
Last week, Shaul Goldstein, who is in charge of Israel's power grid, made headlines when he said that Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah could “destroy Israel's power grid” at any time. “If there was no electricity in Israel for 72 hours, it would be impossible to live here,” Goldstein warned. “We are not in a good position and we are not prepared for a real war.”
Despite Israel's wartime suffering, few international observers have shown sympathy for the Jewish state. With the world's attention focused almost entirely on the undoubted suffering of Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, Hamas has been allowed to hide behind the civilian population in violation of the laws of war. As one former Israeli government official pointed out to us, Hamas' strategy has placed Israel in a no-win situation: “If you defend yourself, you become a pariah; if you don't defend yourself, you disappear.”
Few Israelis express sympathy for the suffering of the Palestinians, instead focusing on their own grief. Many of the Israelis we spoke to thanked us for coming at a time when Israel feels abandoned by much of the world. The sense of being under siege was particularly evident at Hebrew University, which, despite being a mixed institution that educates Israeli Jews and Arabs side by side, faces a boycott from European and US universities.
The constant international criticism of Israel may be backfiring by encouraging more Israelis to support the right-wing government. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's approval rating, while still low, has recovered slightly to 31% from its lowest point since October 7th at 24%, putting him above opposition leader Benny Gantz for the first time in a year. Netanyahu may have been helped by the International Criminal Court's issuing of arrest warrants for him (along with Defense Minister Yoav Galant and Hamas leaders) on May 20th. The ICC's move was widely seen in Israel, even by Netanyahu's opponents, as an attack on the country as a whole.
But Netanyahu’s continued hold on power only exacerbates Israel’s dire situation. He cannot agree to any “tomorrow” plan for Gaza, as his right-wing coalition partners threaten to topple him if he gives the Palestinian Authority any role in governing Gaza or promises a Palestinian state, no matter how far off that may be. Israeli generals have begun to complain that destroying Hamas is not a realistic goal, and that the lack of a political end goal in Gaza means their army is consigned to a perpetual war. In response, Netanyahu’s son, Yair Netanyahu, has posted scathing social media attacks against Israeli military and intelligence leaders that are reminiscent of former President Donald Trump’s erratic attacks on the “deep state.”
In Israel, the gap between the military and government has never been wider, as has the gap between mainstream and ultra-Orthodox Israelis, and between the right and the left. Critics of the government are protesting for a ceasefire to allow the hostages to return home, while far-right supporters of the government are demanding that the war continue until Hamas is destroyed. Many suspect that Prime Minister Netanyahu is prolonging the war to stay in power.
It's all pretty depressing. One of the few bright spots of the trip happened in the most unexpected place: Kfar Aza Kibbutz, located in southern Israel on the border with the Gaza Strip, was seized by Hamas militants on October 7. Terrorists went from house to house, killing and kidnapping. 64 residents were killed and 19 kidnapped. The aftermath of the attack can still be seen in the victims' homes, riddled with bullets.
Shahar Shnorman, a 62-year-old former soldier, is one of the few refugees who have returned to Kfar Aza. He said that fewer than 20 people are currently living there, out of a population of around 800 on October 7. He told our group the heartbreaking scenes and his ordeal on the day of the attack (he and his wife hid in their home with their only weapon, a pocket knife, and prayed that the heavily armed terrorists would not enter the house). Some of his neighbors are still in hellish captivity in Gaza. It is no wonder he harbors resentment and a desire for revenge.
But, he said, “I still believe in peace. If we want to live a normal life in five, 10, 15 years' time, we have to start talking to the Palestinians. If we talk, we don't fight… They shoot at us, we shoot at them. We've been trying that for 100 years. Enough is enough. Let's try something else. Let's try to make peace.”
To be sure, few Israelis share his hope for peace, but as I left Israel, Chenormand's resilience and optimism in the midst of grief and pain gave me a glimmer of hope for the future.
