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Gil Mildar
As the song says, a Latin American with no money in his pocket.

We are Israel.

I know it’s hard to talk about this. I know it’s exhausting and painful, and it feels like we’re hitting the same note repeatedly, shouting into a desert that doesn’t answer back. But the truth is, we need to talk and understand what’s happening to us, our country, and our home. Because what’s happening isn’t normal, it isn’t acceptable, and it isn’t the inevitable fate of people who have always dreamed of being a light, not darkness. Look at what we’ve become. Look at what they’ve made us believe we are. Look at what they’ve made the world think we are!

Netanyahu has been in power for so long that sometimes it feels like he’s just part of the scenery, a rock that’s always been there, weathering time, weathering the wind, weathering reason. But don’t be fooled. He’s not a rock; he’s quicksand. He makes us think that without him, we are lost, the ground will open up, and the world will fall apart. But he has trapped us in a dirty game where he sets the rules, and we follow, blind, because we’ve been made to believe it’s the only way out.

And here we are, stuck with the idea that security is built only with walls, with enemies. We need a savior who is really our jailer, a leader who never guides us out of the labyrinth but always deeper into it, where the light no longer reaches. He wants us to believe we are in an eternal war, that peace is an illusion, and that fear is the only certainty. And when we live in fear, we stop living.

I’m talking to you as someone who feels this pain in my chest, this weight on my soul. We can’t pretend anymore that we don’t see what’s right in front of us. Netanyahu is not Israel’s savior; he is the man keeping us trapped in fear of becoming something beyond his project. He feeds on our panic; he wants us divided, suspicious, and always watching our neighbor because that way, he can keep manipulating us like pieces on a board he never wants to leave.

Look at what we have today. Look at the anger that has taken over our streets, conversations, and homes. Look at how we speak to each other, as if everyone were enemies or if anyone who thinks differently is a threat. This is not Israel. This is the nightmare of a man who has turned the country into an extension of his paranoia. He sold us a false dilemma: either him or the abyss. And we bought it without realizing that the abyss is precisely what he created around us.

And what about his gang of far-right extremists who feed on this madness? They don’t want a fair country but one that only echoes their truths. They want to silence anyone who thinks differently; they want to paint the world in black and white, where only they are right. They speak of love for the homeland but want absolute power without challenge, dialogue, or concessions. They don’t see us as brothers; they see us as obstacles, as problems to be dealt with by force.

I know you feel this, too. I know there is a discomfort, a restlessness that you can’t ignore anymore. That something is not right, that something is profoundly wrong. And this isn’t about being left or right, religious or secular. This is about who we want to be. And I ask you: do we want to stay trapped in this cycle of hate and fear? Do we want to live as if we’re always on the brink of collapse, always ready to attack or be attacked?

Netanyahu and his extremist allies have taken the air from us. They have strangled hope, the debate, and the possibility of a future that isn’t a distorted replica of the present. And we let them. We let them because we believed that maybe this was it, that it was necessary to harden, close our eyes, and stop thinking. But the truth is, no one can live like this. It’s impossible to build a country, home, and life where everything is fear, walls, and distrust.

Do you feel that something has been lost? I do, too. I feel like they’ve stolen our ability to dream together, build, disagree, and still respect each other. I feel like they’ve stolen our right to believe that we can be more than this, that we can be better. And who stole that from us is the very person who should have been leading us toward the light, not into darkness.

Netanyahu’s power isn’t strength; it’s fear. And fear is a cage he wants us to keep living in. But we have the power to step out, open that door, take a deep breath, and remember who we are. We are not a country that needs to hate to survive. We are not a country that needs to close in on itself to be protected. We are a country that can, that must, that deserves to be more.

I’m calling you to see this with me, to feel this with me. To understand that as long as we let Netanyahu and his far-right define us, we are losing our very essence. And I don’t want to lose it anymore. I don’t want to keep living with this feeling that we’re just surviving, just getting through another day of fear. I want to live in an Israel that dreams, dares, loves, and fights, yes, but for justice, equality, and truth.

And I know you want this too. That there is a flame inside you that refuses to go out. You also feel it’s time to turn the page, to write a new story, to refuse this fate of fear they’ve imposed on us. Let’s go together because being alone is not enough. Let’s go together to remember that Israel is more significant than one man, bigger than one government, bigger than any ideology that tries to divide us.

Wake up with me, with all of us who no longer accept living chained to a fabricated fear. Because Israel is not Netanyahu, and Netanyahu is not Israel. We are Israel. And our worth is far greater than any unchecked ambition.

About the Author
As a Brazilian, Jewish, and humanist writer, I embody a rich cultural blend that influences my worldview and actions. Six years ago, I made the significant decision to move to Israel, a journey that not only connects me to my ancestral roots but also positions me as an active participant in an ongoing dialogue between the past, present, and future. My Latin American heritage and life in Israel have instilled a deep commitment to diversity, inclusion, and justice. Through my writing, I delve into themes of authoritarianism, memory, and resistance, aiming not just to reflect on history but to actively contribute to the shaping of a more just and equitable future. My work is an invitation for reflection and action, aspiring to advance human dignity above all.
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