The Morning After Israel’s 77th Independence Day

Which was many things, but not quite a celebration

I have been back in Israel for just over a week now, following an extended visit to Canada and the U.S.

My return was inauspicious.

As I drove from the airport to my home in southern Israel—a one-hour trip on a weekday, late morning—the traffic suddenly stopped. Nothing moved. Five, ten, fifteen minutes. A thick haze slowly enveloped everything. I sat in my car, smelling smoke and seeing less and less. Huge chunks of ash floated everywhere. It was sudden and apocalyptic. I was moments away from soaking a t-shirt with water to place over my nose and mouth, protecting me from the harsh smoke. And then, suddenly, the traffic moved.

We barreled along the highway. Wild flames several meters high were licking the asphalt at the edge of the road. Not a single emergency vehicle was in sight. I was lucky, being among the last vehicles to make it through. Five or ten minutes later, and I would have been forced to have abandoned my car and run.

What I learned later is that the fire I encountered was the small one. A much more ferocious blaze was whipped by high winds and soaring temperatures close to the central town of Bet Shemesh.

One week later, on Memorial Day—always very solemn in Israel but more so this year—high temperatures and winds returned. Huge fires suddenly raged, as they had a week earlier. Much of central Israel was blanketed, again, in haze and ash.

It seemed that the entire country was burning.

Because it was.

This video was taken by a car passenger caught in the most recent fires. My experience was very similar. Credit: BBC.

Experts are saying that dozens of fires raging throughout central Israel were perhaps the largest and most serious incident of this nature. In the history of Israel.

It is now believed that the fires were part of a coordinated effort by Hamas to wreak havoc on nature and life. As of Friday afternoon, 18 Palestinian men were arrested for arson. There will likely be more. Arrests and fires.

Independence Day was effectively cancelled. Cancelled. Everywhere. People stayed home. Even on the kibbutz where I live, there were no throngs of kids shooting canisters of silly string at one another. The pervasive smell of charcoal bar-b-q grills… a longstanding Independence Day tradition in Israel… just wasn’t in the air. National parks were closed.

Israel’s 77^th Independence Day was a somber affair. In a country that celebrates its collective fortitude and sense of purpose, there were few outward signs of national pride. Even the kids who sell flags to attach to car windows were nowhere to be found. Israelis, this year, are tired. They are deeply concerned about the future; the viability of this state, and how to preserve social cohesion in an increasingly fractious reality.

This is the sound of the siren that wailed for two minutes, which we have edited down to just over thirty seconds. Everyone stops in their tracks. We stand. And for two minutes we focus on those we have lost in the last 77 years, in war and to terror attacks. This year, the wail was extra piercing. This year, hostages remain in Hamas tunnels. Chained. Starved. Tortured. This year is different.

In what may be one of the most tone-deaf moves of all time, the IDF sent out tens of thousands of call-up notices to reservists on Tuesday night. This, within minutes of the siren that wailed throughout the country at 8 pm that evening, signaling the start of the annual Memorial Eve and Day. A friend who received one was astounded. Of all days, today?

This means that reservists—yet again—will be called upon to leave their lives behind and report for duty in the Gaza Strip. The government is talking, yet again, of a renewed war effort in Gaza.

To what end? To “destroy” Hamas? Is that not what we have been doing for 18 months? Is that not what we were told we had accomplished last November, until it was clear that we had not?

One day senior government ministers say that rescuing the hostages in Gaza is not a priority; the destruction of Hamas is. Even PM Netanyahu made this comment in recent days. He attempted to fudge the message after strong reactions from the public, but at the end of the day, his position is aligned with the extremists in his coalition, like Minister of Finance Bezalel Smotrich. And there is no ambiguity in his position: Win the war. Destroy Hamas. Resettle Gaza. And if we manage to rescue the hostages in the process, so much the better.

Meanwhile, IDF Chief of Staff Eyal Zamir contradicted the PM directly this week, asserting unequivocally that the rescue of the hostages remains the paramount goal of IDF operations in the Gaza Strip.

On the news tonight, it was reported that the government will vote in cabinet tomorrow, Sunday, on revised and expanded war plans for Gaza. It is highly unlikely that any offensive would launch before President Trump visits the region in mid-May. Should Hamas release all hostages - alive and dead - at once, that could avert renewed fighting. But that, sadly, is unlikely. So we hurtle, yet again, towards war.

In the coming days, thousands of Israelis will pack up their duffels and head to their bases. They leave behind their young children, wives, and lives to return to a mission that they understood had been completed. It is anticipated that more than a few will refuse to turn up for duty. This is not because they are shirkers. It is because they simply cannot do more. The burden, they say, must be shared.

So many of them were pushed beyond their limits in the last 18 months, with many serving for more than 200 days—in the north, south, or both. They are worn out; financially, psychologically, in every way. Their families are fraught, and they are being called upon, again, to show up and put their lives on the line.

And this, while ultra-orthodox men—of whom some 60,000 are currently of age to serve in the draft army but who study full-time in religious institutions instead—they refuse to serve. They say that their prayer is not only more challenging than military service but that it is also more effective in managing security threats.

That’s all wearing a bit thin these days.

Over the last year, there has been a steady exit of families who are choosing to relocate outside of Israel. It may be temporary; it may become more permanent. But this nation of patriots is weary. Its leaders have been demanding too much and offering far too little.

Yesterday, for example, a friend told me of a young family from the north of Israel, near Nahariya. They lived on a beautiful moshav by the sea. When Hezbollah began pounding northern communities with rockets and mortars, they—along with 60,000 Israelis—were forced to evacuate. Because they had the financial means, this particular family relocated to Tel Aviv at their own expense. Most families were housed in hotels. One room per family.

Recently, this family decided to leave Israel. They are mobile high-tech workers who can re-establish themselves with relative ease, and they have done so in the United States. It takes a lot to push such people to move elsewhere. And it is happening more and more.

Much was made of a photograph of an entry in David Ben Gurion’s personal diary, penned in the evening following the Declaration of Independence. May 14, 1948.

There was unmitigated joy in the streets and villages of the newly declared state of Israel that night. But tucked away, quietly, Ben Gurion brooded. He saw dark, ominous clouds. He worried that the fledgling army might not withstand the assault on multiple fronts from the bordering Arab armies, as well as forces who travelled from Iraq. Their mission? Destroy Israel.

Had Ben Gurion been present to witness the raging fires that seared the land and choked the country on Israel’s 77^th Independence Day, I expect he would not have been at all surprised.

We have doused the fires, for now, but would be foolish to think they will not re-ignite. We need a plan and strategy to prevent the fires in our forests and souls.

I always prefer to think through the meaning of Memorial and Independence Days after they have passed. I’m not one for declarations as to what things mean and should mean. I find it more meaningful to wait to decipher what ceremonial moments really mean after the fact; how they are reflected among the people.

And this year, everything was muted. The nation is drowning in grief. Hostages remain in captivity. So many. Chained. Starving. Brutalized. A memorial near my home has been updated. Pairs of yellow shoes are placed in a traffic circle, attached by chains. Our young men remain chained in airless, lightless filth, many meters below ground.

Seventy-seven years after David Ben Gurion secluded himself with worry as his compatriots danced in the streets, his dark premonitions have overtaken the national mood.

I wish I was able to report something cheerful and more in keeping with the “happily ever after” ending we would all prefer, but that’s not what happened this year. That’s not what the nation felt, and it’s not what the people did. They passed the days in quiet, isolated grief and worry.

As the fires raged.

A STLV podcast from two years ago focusing on the drama in the weeks preceding the declaration of Independence in Israel may be of interest today. It totally stands the test of time.

You can listen here.

E10. Israel at 75: A conversation about the political intrigue leading to David Ben Gurion Declaring Independence

Thanks for being here. More podcasts and written pieces are coming very soon.