Amos Harel
In the days since the January 19 cease-fire in Gaza, many Israelis have found themselves in an emotional storm almost as powerful as the shock of Hamas’s October 7, 2023, massacre. The difference, of course, is that this time the storm is driven not by sorrow and unspeakable horror but by joy and—for the first time in more than 15 months—the possibility of hope. Already, the fragile deal has come under considerable stress, and it could collapse in the weeks to come. Yet for the time being, the fighting has stopped in both Gaza and Lebanon, and hostages have begun to come home. As shown by the outpouring of reactions on social media and in the Israeli press, the vast majority of Israelis have greeted the deal as a cause for celebration—even those who opposed it for strategic or ideological reasons.
But the overwhelming response is not primarily about peace. Far more, it is about what the deal means for Israel’s embattled identity. The core issue for Israelis, which may not be fully grasped by outside observers, is that ever since the establishment of Israel in 1948, three years after the end of the Holocaust, the country has defined itself by its status as a safe haven for Jews. For more than 70 years, despite major wars and frequent challenges, it was able to maintain this foundational ideal. With the October 7 attacks, however, that status was ruptured. The belief that the army and other security agencies would always arrive in time to save Jews in distress was completely shattered. And for many Israelis, this failure persisted throughout more than 15 months of war, as the government proved unable to rescue or return a large number of the 251 hostages—Israelis and foreigners—that had been taken to Gaza.
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