It's sad to be a liberal in Israel. It's sad to live here. This is a sad country. Frightening. Exhausting. Demanding. For 10 years, since the Gaza war of 2014, life in it has been a steady movement toward chaos, dissolution, anarchy, fascism. In the past 10 years, especially since the coronavirus lockdowns, life has become insufferable. The basic stability that characterizes a democratic regime has vanished. In its place is the chronic instability that characterizes a dictatorship.
Instability as policy. A doctrine of control. The heart of Bibi-ism, the political movement, which under Benjamin Netanyahu has changed the country. When liberals fought the judicial coup, the real coup had already happened. The temporary and unstable "government of change" turned out to be a link in the chain of a decade of Bibi-ist governments, which is now making its way to its new incarnation: Kahanism-fueled Spartanism.
The euphoria in the mainstream media and among the public in response to the record medals in the Paris Olympic Games expresses the Spartan spirit. The medal winners are presented as objects of national worship, and they're mobilized for the war effort. Expect more medal records in the next Olympic Games. Maybe in 2028 and 2032 the medals will be dedicated to the fallen and hostages.
It's no longer possible to live here. Life is unbearably hard. Depressing. Despairing. Nerve-wracking and meaningless. What's the point? Where's the horizon? What are we fighting for? What's the vision? Does anyone imagine the possibility that Netanyahu will go to prison or that the settlements will be dismantled?
We've already lost. We've already eulogized. Here's another eulogy. We're in shock. Tell the truth, our situation is shocking. We warned. We sounded the alarm. We saw it coming. Clear as daylight. From kilometers away. And yet, we're surprised. The destruction is happening around us, beneath our feet, on our heads. It's everywhere. We're paralyzed. There is no protest. It's impossible to plan a day ahead. We don't know what we're talking about, and we talk all the time.
We're living in an ongoing chain of speculations. Gritting our teeth and looking to heaven. May the Iron Dome not accidently intercept God. The public worships God, the medal winners, Netanyahu. Indeed, we're feeble.
On Saturday evening, I received a golden nugget. Somebody's neighbor is the best friend of someone who's the spouse of someone who's the girlfriend of someone I know, and she said her sons are senior officers in the intelligence Unit 8200, and they said the army will launch a preventative strike against Iran on Saturday night. I woke up on Sunday morning and asked myself, What happened to the preventative strike? Maybe her sons aren't so senior. Maybe they are, but were wrong. Maybe they were right, and the preventative strike was planned, but called off at the last moment. Maybe this was a deception that caused the public to think there would be a preventative strike. And maybe she has no sons at all and merely imagined them to calm herself down. The regime tells us nothing.
At the supermarket checkout, where my money buys less and less, I was asked whether I want to donate to the security forces. I replied that I already donated. I paid taxes. A lot of taxes. They all laughed. There's no point. Life under Netanyahu is to be a speck of dust, valueless. Nausea of disgust. Nausea of anxiety. Netanyahu is blocking a hostage deal. Slowly but surely, they are turning into mythical creatures. Something that medals are dedicated to and who will return one day at the end of days and the end of wars. When there will be no need for elections. When Netanyahu the Messiah will gain immortality.