The Day Israel Ceases to Exist

The Triumph of Erasure

Imagine they have won

The forces that sought Israel’s destruction—academic elites, students, international courts, NGOs, the UN, UNRWA, politicians, journalists, celebrities, peace activists, and, of course, Jews against Zionism—have finally achieved their goal. The students who once screamed “from the river to the sea,” the tenured professors who called Zionism colonialism, the politicians who framed Israel as an apartheid state, and the media that rebranded terrorism as “resistance” have all emerged victorious. The erasure of Israel has become the new world order. It no longer exists.

There’s no more Israel. No more Jews in the land—so relax, damn it, just relax.

This wasn’t just a war of weapons. It was a war of ideas, a decades-long campaign to sever Jewish history from its roots, to turn truth into myth and myth into truth. The result? The world’s twenty-third Islamic state—PALESTINE—built atop the ashes of Jewish civilization, just as Al-Aqsa itself was built atop the ruins of the Second Temple.

For the first time in millennia, not a single Jew remains in Israel—something even Rome, Byzantium, and the Ottomans never fully managed. The Western Wall stands abandoned. Hebrew is erased from the streets. Synagogues old and new have been burned or repurposed into mosques or chicken coops . . . A people who’ve survived exile, persecution, pogroms, and genocide are now exiled from their own homeland—not by swords or gas chambers, but by the stroke of a pen, the ink of an academic thesis, the resolution of an international body, and the collective clamor of virtue-signaling teens, and anyone who doesn’t care but just wants to be on the right side of history because . . . No more Zionism, no more “Zios,” no more “occupiers,” “oppressors,” or “apartheid.” No more genocide of Palestine’s indigenous people! Done.

It took about 77 years to win this war, but in truth, it had been over 3,000 years that the Jews had lingered like unwanted pests, never fully leaving their homeland. Even those in the diaspora never truly forgot their “supposed” roots. Yet, thanks to figures like Richard Falk, Noam Chomsky, and Professor Nadia Abu El-Haj—once relegated to the confines of academia—their theories slowly seeped into mainstream discourse. Abu El-Haj, for instance, argued that Israeli archaeology was being used to justify power and territorial claims, asserting that Palestinians’ archaeological finds were either destroyed, ignored, or reinterpreted to fit a Jewish historical narrative. These interpretations mirrored the views of NGOs like Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International, which maintained that Israel’s very existence was a crime. Even Greta Thunberg, who once focused solely on climate activism, found time in her busy schedule to lend her voice and “crush Zionism.”

Instagram-famous Alana Hadid—the self-proclaimed daughter of a “Nakba survivor”—turned Jewish suffering into a punchline, mocking Israelis and their trauma. But, of course, that’s the Zionist narrative, isn’t it? The truth is, she was simply an ardent advocate fighting for the freedom of Palestine. She took on everyone, never discriminating. Pro-Israel activists would tell you she reveled in smearing Israel, dismissing Jewish fears of rising antisemitism, and referring to the murdered Bibas babies as “unalive” when they were returned to Israel in a casket. She blamed Israeli violence for their “unaliveness.” And her critics would tell you that this was the level of discourse they were up against—smug, privileged activists who trivialized Jewish history while cloaking themselves in the mantle of oppression, wearing it like a fashion statement. But for others, she was just a freedom fighter.

But now it’s over

Let’s be clear: this wasn’t a battle fought in a vacuum. Israel’s fall was not the defeat of an army but the culmination of a shift so profound it made the unthinkable inevitable. October 7 wasn’t just a massacre, it was a rupture, the moment the world stopped pretending, the day legitimacy was rewritten. The Arab campaign to claim Israel was not just tolerated; it was embraced, woven into the moral fabric of a world eager to listen, to sympathize—to forget history.

For decades, Jews clung to a certainty that statehood, once granted, was immutable. That sovereignty, once won, could not be undone. They mistook recognition for permanence, believing that law, history, and faith had anchored them beyond the reach of time or political whim. But history does not honor contracts, and permanence is an illusion. What was written in stone could be chiseled away; what was ratified in ink could be crossed out.

The terror that followed was not just in rockets or bullets but in erasure—the quiet, methodical unmaking of a nation. The world did not just watch; it rationalized. Jewish deaths were excused as necessary, as the price of resistance, because when oppression is redefined, so is murder. Israel’s isolation was not just diplomatic, it was existential. The idea of it became intolerable. Hatred, once a murmur, was now doctrine—its spread as swift as it was absolute. And in the end, the Jews were left to ask: how many times can you be told you are the enemy before you believe it?

New Chapter

Now we breathe. Zionism is dead. The Israeli flag is banned, Hatikvah outlawed. The Quran, revised once more, now speaks of Jerusalem with greater clarity, for at last, it is the uncontested capital of Palestine. Tisha B’Av, once a day of Jewish mourning, is reborn as Palestinian Independence Day. The old names–those of Jewish kings, prophets, and sanctuaries are stripped away, overwritten with the names of martyrs. The transformation is not symbolic; it is systemic, woven into law, education, and media, ensuring that memory itself conforms.

The Islamization of Israel is now in full force

Palestinians, five million strong, have streamed back home—from refugee camps scattered across the Arab world, settling throughout Palestine. Yet, Palestine’s rich tapestry is not solely of Palestinian heritage; it is also home to Druze, Christians, Armenians, Assyrians, and Bedouins, each contributing to the complex mosaic of the land. As new realities take shape, these communities face an existential crisis. How do Palestinians define themselves in this evolving landscape?

Still, in the West the activists, the politicians, the academics, the celebrities, even well-meaning suburban parents bask in their victory. The Jewish state is no more. No war was declared, no treaties signed. It simply ceased to be, dissolved under the weight of boycotts, resolutions, and righteous indignation. Now they are left to revel in the void where Israel once stood even though they have yet to visit Palestine.

But will this void ever truly be enough? The architects of this destruction won’t rest. For even in the absence of Israel, the need to blame, to find a target, will remain.

Beneath the surface of victory, a subtle shift begins to take hold—an unease creeping quietly into the ranks. A victory so complete, so absolute, should bring peace. Instead, it brings something else: a quiet, lingering emptiness. The slogans that once carried the weight of purpose now flutter weakly on the walls of university campuses—Berkeley, Columbia—and the streets of London, Paris, and New York. Remnants of the battle persist: green bandanas, graffiti calling Jews “Nazis,” “garbage,” “baby killers,” and “pigs,” along with protest signs abandoned in forgotten corners. Israel may be gone, and Jews no longer walk that land, but here, in America, a quiet discomfort remains. Every time a Jew or Israeli is seen, this discomfort is magnified, hinting that the war itself never truly ended—only transformed.

Meanwhile, in Palestine, the final stages of change unfold, and even the stones aren’t spared. The Mount of Olives, home to a 2,500-year-old Jewish cemetery—the oldest in the world—is razed, its tombs shattered as they once were under Jordanian rule. Over fifty thousand graves were destroyed then, used as building materials, paving stones, and even latrines. This time, the task is complete. History is rewritten; its remnants buried—just in case the dead decide to speak. Without Israel, Palestine is said to thrive; power struggles will cease, economic prosperity will soar, and harmony will reign in every corner. And look, there’s even an Ilhan Omar Street, where everyone gathers to sing Ya Salam and sip their perfect cups of peace. Who knew utopia was just one power shift away?

But even here, questions linger. After generations of bloodshed, martyrs, resistance, and sacrifice in the name of liberation, the people were promised justice—a paradise reborn. Yet, as the dust settles, the same leaders remain in power, the same factions fight for dominance, and the same grievances continue to fester. The Druze, the Bedouins, and other communities watch from the sidelines, hesitant and uncertain, unsure of their place in this new order. While Palestine may claim victory, can it truly deliver on its promises when its leadership is still entrenched in a battle for control, with no clear victor in sight? Can the vision of freedom and prosperity be fulfilled when old divisions deepen and new ones begin to surface? The Druze, who have coexisted with Jews and Arabs alike, feel the tremors of uncertainty, their futures hanging in the balance. The Bedouins, once sustained by Israel’s infrastructure and security, now wonder who will provide the stability they once relied on. As power struggles continue, the future remains uncertain—for all who call this land home. And as disillusionment grows, one question lingers: when the promised peace falters, who will they blame?

As Palestine strives to remake itself, erasing the remnants of its past, it forgets one vital truth: in their effort to silence history, they’ve only ensured its persistence. The graves that were destroyed, the narratives buried beneath the weight of resistance, they’re not gone. The absence of Israel doesn’t erase the Jewish story—it merely strengthens it. The more they attempt to erase us, the more deeply entrenched we become in the collective memory. While they hope the Jewish narrative will fade into the shadows, they fail to grasp the simple truth: in their hatred, in their desire to make us vanish, they only guarantee that we will never forget who we are. By trying to make us disappear, they ensure that we will always remember we’re Jews—and as long as we remember, we will never fade.

Bobby B. Sprout Meets a Bunch of Rotten Veggies is Ilana K. Levinsky’s heartwarming, whimsical tale about embracing differences and standing up for what’s right. Bobby B. Sprout leaves his cozy greenhouse in search of adventure and arrives at Dew Catcher Farm, where he meets an array of fruits and vegetables. While Bobby is excited to make new friends, Spicy Red, a fiery pepper, insists that Brussels sprouts don’t belong on the farm. As the other veggies follow suit, Sweetie Potato bravely steps in to defend Bobby’s right to stay. This charming story is a playful allegory for anyone who’s ever been made to feel like the “other,” teaching young readers the power of acceptance, standing up for one another, and celebrating what makes us unique.

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