From Tehran to Tel Aviv, Bombs Fall. But What Netanyahu Calls Victory Feels Like Collapse -
Everything felt different when Israel decisively struck Iran's nuclear sites overnight yesterday.
Just two weeks ago I went with my parents and sisters to protest with the families of hostages still held by Hamas, marking 600 days into the war in Gaza. This was my son's first time in Israel since October 7. Everything seemed to be behind glass.
The crowd was solemn, subdued. Families of hostages took the stage. Some said there could be no victory without their loved ones' return. Some condemned Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his far-right coalition. Others pleaded with U.S. President Donald Trump. One woman sobbed into the microphone. Another man stared blankly, waiting for the music to end. Rami Kleinstein, the pop singer, delivered a syrupy ballad about Israel – "your wonders are not yet over" – it was hard to imagine anything more ironic.
For those living with the war these past two years, the signs are everywhere. Train stations lined with stickers of fallen soldiers, posters of Nova victims, hostage signs curling at the edges, yellow ribbons fluttering limply from car windows. The war was both visible and yet blended into everyday life. The mood hovered between helplessness and avoidance. No one wants to talk about what comes next. No one wants to hear about Gaza. No one knows what could bring the remaining hostages home.
A big strike against Iran may come, they said. But it will be worth it – if it humiliates Tehran, if it topples their Islamic regime, if it ends the threat once and for all. Maybe they're right. Maybe this will awaken something.
And so, on day 616 of the war, Israel crescendoed with a spurt of manic euphoria. Israeli air force jets bombed Iran. Suddenly, the talking heads snapped back to life. "Historic," "transformative," they said. An elated Netanyahu spoke of a war to end all wars. Color returned to the incessant talking on TV and online. The country was reanimated by distant violence.
Perhaps they're right. The fall of the Iranian regime with its fundamentalist dogma and its corruption, might open something new. A society long oppressed, that has already shown its courage in the streets, may rise up and bring it down.
But even if the attack changes Iran forever – will it change us, Israelis?
Since October 7, Israeli society has become dependent on salvation from outside. A fantasy of return: Trump will bring the hostages back. Iran will collapse. Palestinians from Gaza will vanish to Somaliland or Finland. Something will happen. Anything – except us. Except looking inward.
Israel no longer believes it can fix even itself. No longer can we will it and make it no dream. Our institutions crumbled long before any residential building in Tehran. Our foundations have been hollowed out.
What remains is a manic-depressive national mood: from the tunnels where hostages sit, to the euphoric chatter after a successful strike. This is what Israeli identity has become.
Traces are seen over Jerusalem during a missile attack alertCredit: Ohad Zwigenberg, AP
At dinner with old friends, I argued with someone deeply upset about the war, the occupation, the future – and in the same breath he said he wouldn't vote, because all politicians are corrupt. Finally, he said he would stay in Israel. "This is home. It's all I know." I looked at my son and told him: That same sense of belonging is why we left.
I'm writing this while Iranian missiles fall on Israel, and I'm watching from New York. I'm texting my family in Haifa to make sure they're safe. People always ask if we are safe here – worried about Gaza encampments at Columbia University, or a shooting in D.C., as if danger is always far away, never in Israel.
But today, another "victory" has turned into another long night, a night that never seems to end, a night to reckon with. Even if Israel "wins" this round against Iran, what exactly have we won if we remain in the grip of a corrupt, apocalyptic regime?
If, as Netanyahu's government markets to us, the Abraham Accords are a cure-all, why do we keep binding our sons and sacrificing them? If we make peace with every faraway country – from Saudi Arabia to Indonesia, but not our neighbors, is that peace? We already know the answer: We found out on October 7.
There will be no victory without a reckoning. Belief in a deus ex machina, in miracles falling on Tehran from the sky, instead of in meaningful political change, from refusal to serve in this war to confronting the corruption to finally facing the big occupation elephant that has become the room, only feeds the solipsistic loop. Israel is increasingly isolated on the global stage.
Security personnel react at an impact site following missile attack from Iran on Israel, in Tel Aviv, IsraelCredit: Itay Cohen / Reuters
In these moments of turmoil, moments that have become years, there needs to be a fundamental paradigm change. Or, like Netanyahu's assessment – or wish – we will always live by the sword.
The days roll on. From one protest to the next, from hostage to hostage, another soldier killed, four more, cease-fire talks begin and end, delegations arrive in and depart from Doha, missiles shot at and from Yemen, and nothing changes.
We may again be saved by an Iron Dome. But not by a god from the sky. If anything is going to end us, it won't fall like fire from above. It will rot from beneath: from the tunnels where the hostages sit, from the scorched roots of olive trees, from the silence we've taught ourselves to live with.
If this is victory, why does it feel like collapse?
Etan Nechin is Haaretz's New York correspondent.