My fear for the future. And the future is now

For 500 days and nights, we have endured torture, hunger, humiliation, and unrelenting suffering. Our nation has been submerged in profound mourning during this dark period. The country stands suspended, breathlessly yearning for transformation and rebirth. Undoubtedly, all of us—at least those whose hearts remain intact and whose minds still function—desperately pray for and await the moment when this nightmare finally concludes.

Recently, I marked—not celebrated—the release of my new book, “They Stole My Country.” I deliberately chose “marked” because this book, like our current reality, deserves no celebration. I profoundly wish I had never needed to write it. In truth, I would surrender every single word contained within its pages—words painfully inscribed throughout these five hundred harrowing days:

Does my book’s title provoke you? Let me reveal something—or perhaps remind you of what you already know: this country was stolen not only from me, but from everyone who dedicated or sacrificed their lives to build an exemplary nation here. A nation that welcomes immigrants, reunites scattered exiles, constructs and realizes dreams while establishing robust defenses. A nation meant to stand as the living embodiment of Zionism’s promise and power.

A country that truly embodied these ideals—until its character transformed along with its leadership. Until certain calculating individuals deliberately altered its course and purposefully steered us all toward the precipice. And even now, we have yet to reach the depths of this abyss.

Throughout my book, I have documented these processes—and the individuals and factions responsible for them—with stark clarity and unwavering precision. Every fact, testimony, document, and piece of evidence is meticulously presented. The record shows exactly how we arrived at this critical juncture and reveals the further depths to which we might yet descend.

Rather than dwelling on the past and present, I now look toward the future—the future that awaits us all. I see a future where Israel descends into perpetual warfare, confronting a new enemy at every turn. A future where our economy crumbles as those with wealth and talent flee these shores. A future where our once-proud healthcare system fails utterly, leaving citizens to perish without treatment. A future where our education system no longer nurtures Nobel laureates but instead produces ignorant, prejudiced individuals who battle amongst themselves. A future where our infrastructure deteriorates to resemble that of the developing world. A future reminiscent of the Temple’s destruction—where internal strife consumes us all and our society disintegrates from within.

A future where the dwindling minority of working citizens buckles beneath the overwhelming burden of supporting those who have chosen not to contribute. A future where our military stands incapable of confronting mounting security threats because fewer than half our citizens are willing to serve, and even those few have lost all motivation. A future where Israel exists as a dictatorship—one that masquerades as enlightened.

A future where…

How I wish everyone truly comprehended these descriptions, for then at least I would know we still had time to make corrections. But the bitter truth is that we all recognize this portrait as our present reality. We are like frogs slowly boiling in a pot, having failed to awaken in time to leap out and combat the cancer growing within our society.

Look around—pardon my language—and witness how one man grips the country by the balls with an iron hand, squeezing mercilessly. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that a small, powerful faction holds him in their grasp, and he, in turn, sacrifices all of us to shield them. All to preserve his power.

Observe the breathtaking cynicism with which he evades direct responsibility for the October 7th catastrophe. See how a collection of spineless enablers permits him to continue his reckless dance toward the precipice.

Have we crossed the threshold beyond which there is no return?

Although I’m typically not an optimist, I do think we’re nearing a critical juncture, though we haven’t crossed it yet. There’s still an opportunity for redemption. My dear friends frequently cite Rabbi Israel Salanter, the pioneer of the Musar Movement from Salantai, Lithuania: “As long as the candle is burning, there is still time to make repairs.”

And Israel’s candle still flickers—its light wanes and its fuel dwindles quickly, yet the flame endures.

We are morally compelled to mend what has been shattered, if only to assure ourselves, our children, and their descendants that we have heeded the lessons of history and made every possible effort to avert a third catastrophe for our nation.

I can only hope and pray that together we find the courage and strength to rise from this darkness into a period of revolution and reconstruction. A revolution of consciousness—critical and life-sustaining. We have already lost too much; now, we must save what remains.