Israel: Our tenacious country

I have just returned from four weeks in Israel. I arrived in mid-September ahead of the one-year anniversary of the October 7 massacre. As I walked through the airport, I saw the posters of the still-missing hostages and I was overwhelmed with emotion knowing that I no longer had to explain or justify the pain and heartache we have experienced since October 7 last year. I knew I was home.

The first thing that struck me was the emptiness of the airport. This continued with the major tourist sites; places usually bustling with tourists were deserted.

During my stay I had the privilege of meeting Israelis from all walks of life. I witnessed the immense pain and trauma this country has suffered, but I also saw the incredible strength and determination. Israelis know they are in an existential fight that they didn’t start nor want. This tragedy was thrust upon them by an evil ideology whose objective is the annihilation of the one Jewish state in the world.

At the start of this war, many Israelis wondered whether the TikTok generation, notoriously selfish and self-obsessed, were willing and able to face the enormous challenges of this war. But there was no need for doubt. The young soldiers of the IDF have shown extraordinary bravery and commitment, and have demonstrated that they are as willing to sacrifice for their country as generations have done so before them.

Despite the ongoing war, I felt an incredible sense of calm. I don’t think we realise how destructive and draining it is to be in the “Diaspora War”, constantly fighting antisemitism and hatred of Israel, begging the world to understand our pain. It drains and demoralises you, as the injustice seems so grotesque and the gaslighting and lies often overwhelming.

These feelings are converted into action in Israel, where most of the country is involved in the war effort. Israelis don’t have the luxury or time to contemplate what the world thinks of them. They are in a fight for survival and are consumed with the mission at hand. We must do the same. Our fight against antisemitism is also a war, and we must continue to fight.

The frequent siren alerts serve as a reminder of why Israel is fighting. During my stay four sirens went off and I had to quickly make my way to the closest bomb shelter, where I met a variety of people. One of them was a 10-year-old boy who sat alone playing with his phone. We asked him where his parents were and he explained calmly that he had been riding his bike around the streets when the siren went off. The boy had been taught that should a siren sound, he is to enter the nearest building and find the bomb shelter. Without any fuss or fear, that is exactly what he did and the adults were all suitably impressed by his incredible maturity. I also learned that often, the first thing Israelis do before heading to a bomb shelter is locate their pets. I sat in one shelter next to a large dog with his owners, an elderly couple who had been evacuated from Kibbutz Kfar Aza having survived the October 7 massacre.

The atmosphere in the bomb shelters varied from anxious (when a missile failed to intercept and smashed into a building a couple of kilometres away from us in Herzliya), to jovial as residents used humour to make light of their predicament. We joked about the strange holiday I was having, and some asked me quizzically what on earth I was doing in Israel at this time.

The extraordinary reality of this war dawned on me when after breakfast with a friend, he got in his car and drove one-and-a-half hours south to join his IDF unit, which entered Gaza a few hours later, while I headed in the other direction to meet a friend for lunch in Tel Aviv. Later we chatted about our days as though he had simply gone to the office, not a war zone.

There is little doubt that the aim of the October 7 atrocity was to cause maximum suffering to the entire Jewish people, and by kidnapping 250 innocent civilians, the goal was achieved on day one. The pain and trauma are visible everywhere you go. There isn’t a street without posters or yellow chairs for the hostages, stickers of fallen soldiers, or banners demanding the return of the hostages or other political slogans. Nowhere is exempt. Even at a hotel I stayed in there was a table dedicated to an employee who is in Hamas captivity.

The entire nation is grieving and there is a sense of nervousness as they await the Israeli response to the Iranian missile attack. But falling apart is a luxury they can’t afford, so they have turned their grief into action. I asked a friend why she doesn’t watch the news. She explained that two of her three children are in active service and when they come home, they need to return to an environment that is peaceful and grounding, and reminds them that when this war is over there will be normality. Ensuring this is her mission and contribution to the war effort.

Another observation I made was how young the soldiers are. While our teenagers are deciding what to wear to their next party, Israeli teens are donning their khaki uniforms and heading to the frontlines. You see their worn and dusty boots and you realise that just a few hours earlier they were in Gaza or Lebanon risking their lives. Now they are heading home for a few days’ temporary respite, knowing soon they will be back in harm’s way.

Confidence in the IDF following October 7 was understandingly shaken to its core as Israelis struggled to come to terms with the security failures that allowed our enemies to inflict such a massive loss of life on Israeli citizens. The assassination of Haniyeh and Nasrallah and the mysterious exploding pagers marked a change in attitude in Israel. These events heralded the beginning of a psychological turning point. Finally, Israel was on the offensive and a cautious optimism emerged as the IDF demonstrated its brilliance in its ability to target and neutralise the enemy with extraordinary creativity and ingenuity. Day by day, confidence is slowly being restored.

As I wheeled my suitcase through the airport on the way back to Australia, I felt an overwhelming feeling of sadness to be leaving my beleaguered homeland. In October 2023, I feared that Israel could not survive a war on seven fronts. But as I boarded my flight in October 2024, I was filled with pride and optimism knowing that the only Jewish state in the world, this tenacious little country of ours, is going to beat the forces of evil that once again tried to destroy us.

Am Israel Chai.

Anna Pasternak is the director of The Australian Jewish News.