Israel State of Mind

Billy Joel´s New York may have made the phrase famous, but Israel has a state of mind all its own.

It is difficult to define because it is made up of contradictions. Israelis can be impatient yet extraordinarily generous, argumentative yet fiercely united, skeptical yet idealistic, anxious about tomorrow yet determined to squeeze every possible drop out of today.

Perhaps that contradiction is precisely the point.

The Israeli state of mind was forged in a place where uncertainty has never been theoretical. War, terrorism, military service and loss are not chapters in a history book. They are woven into family stories, friendships and everyday life. October 7 and everything that has followed have made that reality painfully immediate once again.

And yet Israel remains one of the most intensely alive societies on earth.

Restaurants fill. Families gather. Children are everywhere. People travel, celebrate, build companies, fall in love, complain about the government, argue about politics and make plans for next summer while wondering what next week will bring.

It is not that Israelis believe everything will be fine.

It is that they refuse to stop living if it isn’t.

Don’t just accept the situation

There is a combativeness in the Israeli character that is easy to misunderstand.

It is not necessarily aggression. It is a refusal to accept a situation simply because someone, or circumstances, has imposed it upon you.

Tell an Israeli that something cannot be done and there is a reasonable chance he will interpret it not as a conclusion, but as the beginning of a negotiation.

A bureaucratic obstacle is challenged. An unreasonable rule is questioned. A closed door is knocked on again. And again. If the conventional solution doesn’t work, another one is invented.

Sometimes this quality can be maddening. Israelis can be impatient, stubborn, intrusive and spectacularly unwilling to take no for an answer.

But perhaps the irritating and admirable versions of this characteristic cannot be separated so easily.

The recent events aboard FlyDubai Flight FZ1073 provided an extraordinary illustration. When a terrifying situation unfolded aboard the aircraft, Israeli passengers did not simply remain seated and wait to discover what fate had in store for them. When the possibility of intervening presented itself, they acted.

Different circumstances, same instinct:

Do something.

There is something profoundly Israeli in those two words.

Perhaps there is also something profoundly Jewish about why they matter.

For too many centuries, Jews lived in societies in which others determined what could be done to them, where they could live, what professions they could practice, whether they could remain in their homes and, ultimately, whether they would live at all.

Zionism changed many things. Among the most profound was the restoration of the Jewish people’s ability to take control of their own destiny.

Israelis inherited that determination and turned it into a national personality.

Don’t wait for somebody else to solve the problem. Don’t assume authority is always right. Don’t accept that because something has always been done one way, it must continue to be done that way.

And certainly don’t assume the outcome has already been decided.

Yihye beseder. We’ll be okay.

Then there is that wonderfully Israeli expression: yihye beseder.

Everything will be okay.

Except that this is not really what Israelis mean.

Israelis know perfectly well that everything may not be okay. Their history has provided more than enough evidence of that.

Yihye beseder is less a prediction than a declaration of intent.

Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.

That distinction may explain something fundamental about Israel.

Plans change. Reservists are called up. Flights are cancelled. Schools close. Governments collapse. Wars begin. Something that yesterday seemed impossible becomes today’s reality.

And Israelis adapt.

The plan didn’t work?

Change the plan.

There is a straight line, I suspect, between this mentality and the improvisational culture that helped produce the Start-Up Nation. Innovation is, after all, another way of refusing to accept that the existing answer is the only possible answer.

Argument as a form of affection

Israelis argue.

About politics, religion, judicial reform, the army, football, food, where you parked your car and how you are raising your children.

Sometimes they will even wait until they know you before telling you how you are raising your children incorrectly.

But disagreement in Israel does not necessarily mean estrangement.

Two Israelis can conduct a conversation that sounds to an outsider like the final minutes before a fistfight and then ask each other where they are having Shabbat dinner.

Perhaps this too has ancient roots.

Jewish civilization never regarded disagreement as intellectual failure. We preserved our arguments. The Talmud records minority opinions alongside majority ones. We have spent thousands of years disagreeing with one another and somehow remaining part of the same conversation.

Israel merely added hand gestures.

Dugri. Straight Talk.

And then there is dugri.

Direct. Unfiltered. Frequently unsolicited.

Israeli culture has remarkably little patience for ceremony or excessive formality. Hierarchies collapse quickly. Personal boundaries sometimes collapse even faster.

The stranger you met ten minutes ago may ask how much your apartment cost, why you aren’t married, why you only have two children or why on earth you ordered that from the menu.

It can be exhausting.

It can also be wonderfully human.

Because beneath the intrusiveness lies an assumption that the distance between us is smaller than we pretend.

You are not entirely a stranger.

You are already, somehow, part of the conversation.

Everyone is family, especially when something goes wrong

Perhaps nowhere is the Israeli state of mind more visible than during a crisis.

Israel can spend months tearing itself apart politically. The divisions are real and should not be romanticized.

And then something happens.

Suddenly homes open. Food appears. Cars begin moving people around the country. Volunteers create logistical operations overnight. Someone knows someone who knows someone who can get what is needed to where it needs to go.

After October 7, we witnessed this on an almost unimaginable scale.

Before institutions had even organized themselves, Israelis had.

There is an old Jewish idea: Kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh, all Israel is responsible for one another.

In ordinary times, it can sound like a beautiful quotation.

In Israel during a crisis, it becomes an operating system.

The crisis is real. So is the coffee.

And then there is humor.

Israeli humor can be dark because Israeli reality occasionally requires it to be.

Sirens, wars, reserve duty, bureaucracy, politics, almost nothing is protected from ridicule.

It is not because Israelis fail to understand the seriousness of what is happening.

It is precisely because they do.

Humor is another refusal to surrender control. If you can laugh at something, it has not entirely conquered you.

There is something wonderfully Israeli about emerging from a bomb shelter and, within minutes, complaining about the coffee.

The danger is real.

So is the coffee.

Life insists on returning.

Choose life

Perhaps this is ultimately what I find most distinctive about the Israeli state of mind.

It is not optimism.

It is certainly not tranquility.

Israelis know too much history to assume that tomorrow will necessarily be better than today.

And yet they marry. They have children. They plant trees. They start companies. They build homes. They celebrate holidays. They dance. They argue. They laugh.

They plan for tomorrow.

There is something profoundly Jewish about that instinct too.

U’vacharta bachayim. Choose life.

Not when life is easy.

Choose it precisely when history has given you every reason to fear it.

This is why I don’t think “resilience” quite captures Israel. Resilience is the ability to recover after adversity.

The Israeli instinct begins earlier.

First, challenge the adversity.

If you cannot change it, adapt to it.

If you fall, get up.

If you are frightened, act.

If you are grieving, mourn, but eventually return to the table, pour another glass of wine, argue with someone you love and continue living.

Israelis do not necessarily believe everything will be okay.

They believe that whatever happens, they will do something about it.

And maybe that is the essence of an Israel State of Mind:

Not merely the determination to survive.

The stubborn, argumentative, occasionally infuriating, and profoundly Jewish determination to live.

And make no mistake: life in Israel also takes its toll on the Jewish Israeli mind and soul. Even within the Israel State of Mind, where Jewishness is on steroids, Israelis are not immune to the psychological burdens of being human. Anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and chronic insomnia are among the mental health challenges affecting a society that has endured extraordinary levels of uncertainty, conflict, and trauma.

The difference is not that Israelis suffer less, but that so many refuse to let suffering define them. Almost instinctively, they confront adversity with an extraordinary determination to embrace life, find joy, and keep moving forward. Their resilience does not erase their pain; it coexists with it.

Perhaps that is the ultimate expression of the Israel State of Mind: not the absence of suffering, but the relentless determination to make happiness prevail despite it.