The anatomy of fear

We consume our tomorrows fretting about our yesterdays.

Aulus Persius Flaccus, Roman poet 

A lot has been said about the current predicament of the state of Israel and the events of October 7th. Almost everyone around the world has an opinion on the matter, from staunch anti-Zionist Roger Waters to the typical voter of the religious Zionist party, HaTzionut HaDatit. Each person believes they know what the problem is and what the solution should be. However, this article is not about those opinions. Instead, it focuses on the consequences of what happened on that distant day of October 7th.

Since then, the modern state of Israel has been experiencing one of the most challenging periods in its history, facing both internal and external upheavals. Following a year of street protests demanding a more honest government, the country was hit by a genocidal massacre with mass kidnappings, a war involving rocket attacks, a direct assault from Iran, and the looming threat of another attack from the same regime. Larger, older, and more powerful nations like France or my native Portugal would struggle with just two items on that list, yet Israel persists. The skyscrapers in Tel Aviv continue to rise, seemingly untouched by the turmoil.

What remains, then? What is the world missing about this conflict, and what are Israelis overlooking? The answer: Fear.

It is hard to explain the power and effect of fear on the everyday lives of Israeli citizens to someone who has not been living in Israel for the past two years or has never lived through a similar situation. Now, everyone awaits Iran’s “massive” response. You might say, “War is war” and it has its consequences. Things seem normal, but nothing could be further from the truth. There is an underlying tension. Yesterday, my wife and I went out to dinner with friends, and the leitmotif was “going out with a bang”—eat and drink today because tomorrow we might not be here. With us were a university worker and a businessman both holding passports other than Israeli ones. Like us, they can leave whenever they want but choose to stay. There is a sense of duty for the country but also a sense of defiance. Nobody wants to be defeated by fear. We drank like Caligula but unlike Nero we have not seen Rome burn… yet.

I know what my anti-Zionist readers will say: “At least you are eating, you Zionist bastards; poor Gazans are starving.” Setting aside the veracity or pertinence of that statement, which I do not endorse, I am not talking about people in a warzone. Tel Aviv is a sophisticated Western city, like New York, Copenhagen, or San Francisco. Imagine what it would be like for the inhabitants of those cities to live under the threat of annihilation.

It was the same, in April, when Iran attacked one hour after the Menorah Arena emptied following a Maccabi Tel Aviv basketball game. To a lesser extent, it was the same in November when Hamas bombed daily and people still went to work, and the entire previous year when every Saturday night there were riots on the Ayalon Highway. Israel lives in constant anxiety and fear. Fear has become part of its identity.

Yet, everything seems normal. I often say Israelis are either like Nostradamus, knowing everything will be all right, or they are the orchestra of the Titanic, playing as the ship sinks. Either way, for the past two years, their attitude has been one of such stoicism that it rivals the London Blitz population walking to shelters as bombs fell. But all this bravado has its consequences. You can suppress your fear, but you still feel it, and sooner or later, it comes back to exact its price. Israelis choose governments out of fear, adopt policies out of fear, interact with each other in fear, and face the future with fear. It is part of the Mullahs’ strategy to keep us waiting for their attack. Time increases fear, and fear increases anxiety. No people in the world would accept living under these conditions. No one would accept annihilation at the hands of a nefarious theocracy in a possible near future.

Fear protects and helps us conquer adversity, but it is not a good adviser and certainly not a way of life. Israelis, the people who created a garden in the desert, who have made many friends in Palestinian communities, formed sports teams, business ventures, and cultural collaborations, who brought the concept of democracy and respect for diversity to the Middle East, and who have advanced high tech, deserve to return to the way things were in 2021 when they lived without fear. Palestinians who lived and worked with them, developing and building together, deserve to return to the hope they had before Hamas’s power suffocated their desire for liberty.

Finally, I’ve shared my perspective, just as everyone else—whether pacifist or antagonist. However, my opinion is shaped by the realities of daily life, influenced by the ongoing challenges and resilience I witness every day.