Resilient, Resourceful, and Utterly Knackered

For nearly three years, Israel has been living in a state of sustained emergency. Not a single emergency but a succession of them.

October 7th. The war in Gaza. The hostages. The northern front. Reserve duty. Terror attacks. Judicial reform protests. International isolation. Iran. Coalition crises. Draft disputes. Sirens. Ceasefires. The collapse of ceasefires. Rumors of escalation. Actual escalation. Then another round of speculation about what comes next.

At this point, most Israelis can explain the difference between a ballistic missile and a drone strike with impressive yet startling accuracy. We know which Telegram channels to follow. We know where the nearest shelter is. We know how long we have to reach it.

We know a lot of things we never really wanted to know. I certainly didn’t. 

What we fail to talk about as much as we should (considering the toll it’s taking on entire nation) is the exhaustion.

Not military exhaustion, though that is real. Not political exhaustion, though that is obvious. Something broader than both.

National exhaustion.

The kind that settles into a society slowly enough that people stop noticing it.

You can see it in conversations. Israelis still discuss politics, but increasingly with the detached tone of sports fans who have watched their team lose too many seasons in a row. The arguments remain passionate. The expectations, on the other hand… 

You can see it in the way people talk about the future. Or rather, the way they don’t.

There was a time when Israelis seemed perpetually focused on what came next. The next startup. The next apartment development. The next election. The next peace process. The next economic opportunity.

Today, many conversations feel compressed into exceedingly shorter time horizons.

Can we get through this week? Will there be another round? Will the reserves be called up again? Will the airport stay open? Will the government survive another month?

The long term has become a luxury.

This is not unique to Israel. Human beings are not built for prolonged uncertainty. We can endure extraordinary hardship when we believe there is light at the end of the tunnel. What wears us down is ambiguity.

The problem is that ambiguity has become one of the defining features of Israeli life.

The war does not entirely end. The coalition is not completely stable. Oh, and the threat from Iran is not entirely gone. The debate over military service is not yet resolved either. 

One emergency barely has time to become history before the next one arrives.

Israelis have become experts in adaptation, that’s not news. It is one of our most celebrated national traits. We adjust, improvise, carry on, and figure things out.

But this adaptation comes with a hidden cost.

At some point, resilience begins to resemble endurance. And endurance is not the same thing as thriving.

One of the stranger aspects of Israeli culture is our tendency to treat exhaustion as a personal failing. If you are tired, you should be stronger. If you are struggling, you should be more resilient. If you are overwhelmed, you should remember that previous generations faced worse.

There is truth in that. There is also a danger.

A society that constantly celebrates resilience can lose the ability to acknowledge fatigue.

Yet fatigue is not the same as weakness. It tells us that human beings have limits. It tells us that even the most adaptable societies cannot operate indefinitely in a state of emergency without consequences.

And perhaps that is the conversation Israel most needs right now.

Not whether we are resilient. We clearly are.

Not whether we can endure. We already have.

The more important question might be whether fatigue has quietly become our national baseline.

Because if the only measure of success is continuing to function, then eventually we risk confusing survival with a vision for the future.

Israelis are still going to work, raising children, starting companies, getting married, arguing online, and standing in line for way too long. Life continues, as it always does.

But beneath the familiar rhythm of daily life, a growing weariness has become difficult to ignore.

This country is tired.

Not defeated. Not hopeless. Just positively knackered beyond belief. 

And acknowledging that may be the most honest thing we can say about ourselves right now. 

Speaking for myself, I can confidently say… Man, I am exhausted.