[Salon] Israel-Iran War: Israelis Now Understand What It's Like to Have Ton-and-a-half Bombs Dropped on Their Homes

https://www.haaretz.com/opinion/2025-06-24/ty-article-opinion/.premium/israelis-now-understand-what-its-like-to-have-ton-and-a-half-bombs-dropped-on-their-homes/00000197-a192-d32c-a5df-fbfb420c0000

Opinion | Israel-Iran War: Israelis Now Understand What It's Like to Have Ton-and-a-half Bombs Dropped on Their Homes - Opinion - Haaretz.com

Sheren Falah Saab Jun 24, 2025

Over the years, we have grown accustomed to wars as recurring episodes – Hamas, Hezbollah, the north, the south, sirens and cease-fires. But the war with Iran seems to be a different kind of story.

It's not an organization or a gang or one random missile. Iran, a country we have been warned about for decades, whose octopus tentacles are said to stretch across the Middle East, has become a major player in the local arena. Even though television news broadcasts are portraying the U.S. attack on the nuclear facilities in Fordow as a significant achievement, uncertainty and fear linger.

The streets are empty, and shelters and safe rooms are the main topics of conversation. "Do you have a shelter at home?" is the question that begins every conversation between friends and strangers alike. Anxiety over what will happen in the days ahead is tangible. The big cities are no longer immune as they were in past wars. No one spends their morning sitting in a cafe or goes to a Pilates lesson in the evening. The first Iranian missile to hit the heart of Tel Aviv did not just strike a building but also our collective resilience. We now know that Israel is not immune to bombings.

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Missiles landing in Ramat Gan, in Tamra and other cities illustrate the ugliness of war and the price paid by innocent civilians. Less than 100 kilometers away, in the Gaza Strip, this reality has been going on for more than 600 days. Until recently, statements like "trapped under the rubble," "trying to locate missing people" and "widespread destruction in the area" hardly appeared in the Israeli media. The world sees this reality in Gaza, which makes it difficult to mobilize sympathy for Israel.

Nevertheless, the Iranian missiles have narrowed the gap between Israel and Gaza in a brutal fashion. The images of destruction from Tel Aviv and Ramat Gan evoke those of Beit Lahia and Gaza City. Suddenly, through Israeli eyes, one can understand what it looks like to have a ton-and-a-half of explosives dropped on you.

The scenes of destruction in Gaza City are no longer unfamiliar to Israelis.Credit: Jehad Alshrafi/AP

The destruction wreaked by a missile attack from Iran on Be'er Sheva earlier today.Credit: Yonatan Honig/Reuters

How do we survive in this hell? I had the courage to ask my Gazan friend Maha, who works as a copy editor. She was under Israeli bombardment for six months and understands well what it means to lose control of the space you live in. "What did you think when the bombs fell near you? What did you do? How did you continue to work?" I asked her.

A resident of Khan Yunis, Maha's home was partially destroyed during an attack in November 2023. Unlike Israel, Gaza has no shelters, no protected areas and no Home Front Command that informs citizens of the situation through alerts. She was forced, with her husband and daughters, to try to understand what was happening around her, using her intuition to find shelter in Rafah with relatives.

And then, they reached the most difficult decision of all – to leave Gaza and the entire life they had built there and move to Egypt. "I didn't think about death," she wrote. "I just hoped we would get out of the Strip. I held on to that, and that's what enabled me to keep getting up every day."

She sensed my fear and changed the subject. "So what are you cooking today?" For a moment, she managed to relieve me of my panic and anxiety. We are close friends, but for the past 18 months our conversations have focused on the war, Middle East politics and the situation in Gaza. The question about something relating to the home and parenting restored my balance for a few moments.

Displaced children playing in a tent camp in Gaza City yesterday.Credit: Jehad Alshrafi/AP

"Read. I know you love to read," she wrote to me yesterday. Her words gave me comfort and hope in her ability to understand what I was going through and the fear that accompanied it. I was the one who was terrified, and she, who had survived for months under the bombs in the Gaza Strip, was the one giving comfort.

Gaza, Tehran and Tel Aviv embody the price paid by non-combatants for the whims of leaders who decide to go to war knowing that there will be casualties. It is difficult to see the damage caused by Iranian bombings without thinking (even for a moment) of the Gaza Strip.

If Israel viewed Gaza not through promises of "total victory" or security considerations, but through the eyes of a child without a protected space, or of a mother unable to protect her children, perhaps a deeper moral understanding would emerge of the destructive consequences of continuing the war. And perhaps more voices would be heard opposing it, even when it comes to war with Iran.

Horror knows no borders. Beirut was destroyed by bombs. So was Gaza. There is no telling what will happen to Tehran or Tel Aviv if the cease-fire doesn't hold. Bombs know no language; they do not distinguish between people. And amidst the flood of interpretations and scenarios, this is the moment to stop, look around, see the people who are paying the price and say clearly: Enough of war. Everywhere.