The Naked Vulnerability

On the night that closed in over Gilboa, a veil of silence was skillfully woven, severing all lines of communication—a silent yet deafeningly effective attack. The sudden disappearance of the internet and telephony was not just a technical failure but the tangible manifestation of a successful assault, a precise strike against our communication network, affecting not just one city but the entire border region with Jordan.

The official explanation, pointing to a failure in Beith Shean, sounds almost like a bedtime story, unable to cover the breadth of vulnerability exposed. That night revealed a deeper, more frightening truth: our communication infrastructure, the backbone of our connection to the world, was not just exposed but wounded, vulnerable to a precise and devastating attack.

This event was not a mere interruption but a prelude to potential silences, a warning that we are in a chess game where our towers and knights have been skillfully taken down, leaving us unprotected, perhaps even anticipating the moves of a broader conflict with Hezbollah. The disconnection was not an accident but a clear sign of our fragility, a successful test of our response capability, or the lack thereof, in the face of an invisible enemy who knew how and where to strike us.

This revelation leaves an indelible mark, a bitter taste of reality. We are, perhaps, more exposed than we ever imagined, with our lines of communication not just vulnerable but already breached. The question echoing in the shadows of this night is not if we can repair the breach but how we can prepare for the next war, for the next strike that will come with the certainty of tides.

In this moment of introspection, we are asked not just to rethink our infrastructure but to recognize the importance of every wire, every signal that connects us. Perhaps it is time to weave a new net, not with stronger threads but with a wiser pattern, one that can withstand not just the whims of technology but the deliberate attacks of those who wish to see us isolated, silenced.

The night Gilboa and its region were silenced is a call to wake up, a challenge to look beyond the surface of our screens and see the fragility of the lines that bind us. It is an invitation to strengthen not just our networks but our common bonds, so that even in the face of imposed silence, we can find new ways to speak, to connect, to make ourselves heard.