Missiles Don’t Discriminate. Israelis Still Do

In the war with Iran and its proxies, all of Israel’s citizens—Jewish and Arab alike—find themselves trapped in a deadly lottery. Rockets fall without distinction, creating shared vulnerability that one would expect to generate civic and human solidarity. Yet the racism that pervades Israeli society has not diminished.

In the war’s opening days, a shocking video emerged of Jewish teenage girls celebrating as missiles rained down on the neighboring city of Tamra—missiles that killed four Arab women from the same family. Reports have surfaced of Jewish Israelis refusing to allow Arab neighbors into public bomb shelters during missile sirens. In Beit She’an and in Tel Aviv, residents physically blocked an Arab journalist from reporting at a missile impact site.

This atmosphere of exclusion and hostility has been nurtured by longstanding state policies of structural discrimination. Nowhere is this more evident than in the unrecognized Bedouin villages of the Negev. Although these residents are Israeli citizens, they have no sirens, no shelters, and no safe rooms. They remain, quite literally, in the line of fire—not due to technical failure, but by policy choice.

A direct link goes between the state’s failure to provide physical protection and the public’s refusal to extend solidarity. When the state signals that Arab lives matter less, society internalizes this message and behaves accordingly. A recent study by the aChord Center at Hebrew University sheds troubling light on how deeply this message has taken root, revealing a clear deterioration in Jewish attitudes toward Arab citizens. Growing numbers of Jewish Israelis now support limiting Arabs’ rights, rejecting their complex identity, and denying their place in the country. Particularly alarming is data from young people—Israel’s future—among whom exclusion, alienation, and even open hostility have become entrenched.

When the state discriminates, citizens feel entitled to follow suit. Without equality or a sense of shared destiny, and as the public’s moral compass frays, national security weakens from within.

Israel cannot afford to preserve a hierarchy among its citizens—neither morally nor strategically. In wartime, a nation’s resilience is measured not only by its defense systems but by the bonds of mutual care between its people. The right to safety, shelter, empathy from fellow citizens and belonging is not a luxury; it is the essential foundation of any shared and stable society.