Part of my job as a researcher and teacher entails traveling to various parts of the world to ensure that my sense of reality gained from reading about the world matches one’s view informed by seeing it. I returned just a few days ago, having spent a week in Israel with a group of academics hoping to better understand Middle Eastern political and security dynamics. The energy of Tel Aviv’s bustling streets and the timeless beauty of Jerusalem’s ancient stones couldn’t mask the palpable unease that permeated my trip.
Conversations with Israelis across the political and professional spectrum painted a disconcerting picture — one of a nation grappling with an existential crisis deeper than any I’ve witnessed in previous visits. It’s a sentiment reminiscent of the aftermath of the Second Intifada, where the collective psyche reeled from the violence and the shattered illusion of peace. But this time, the angst felt different, more pervasive, echoing the disquiet felt in the wake of the 1973 Yom Kippur War when Israel’s sense of invincibility was deeply shaken.
Though everyday life hummed along, a sense of foreboding hung in the air. Having recently returned from Ukraine, two of my colleagues found chilling parallels — the dissonance of normalcy against a backdrop of looming threat. This parallel spoke volumes about the fragility of peace and the ever-present potential for conflict to upend even the most seemingly stable societies.
The political left, particularl.