When I hear “from the river to the sea,” I don’t think of scenery. I don’t think of a trip. I don’t think of peace. I hear, simply, “We want you to disappear.”
We know that won’t happen – not because we believe in fairies, but because we know how to swim in the river, and protect the sea.
So true, we are a sweaty, loud, messy people.
But also a people with a heart the size of a Negev, and courage the size of an entire country.
Love for Israel is not a Hollywood story. It is not divided into a smooth plot with a sweet ending. It is a different kind of love – one born of commitment, not romance. It involves queues at the health insurance company, curses on the road, rent that reeks of fraud – and yet, it is a deeper, more burning love, the kind that leads people to fly here precisely when the sky is thundering.
This is no longer an ordinary war. This is not a fight over territory, resources or national honor. This is not about Hamas, Hezbollah or the parking lot inspector. This is about the internal, real, most instinctive struggle there is – the war between the belly and the cauliflower.
What are they trying to sell us in the name of peace – and how do all the peace agreements look like a prelude to another war?
Because right now, every peace agreement is simply the prelude to the next episode in the drama series: “Another war, another shock – and a new peace sold on sale”
Anyone who has ever sat for an hour and a half in a shelter with 11 residents, two babies, and a small radio that screams “The alarm is over – you can leave” every five minutes – will tell you the truth: The most threatening thing about war is that the mold in the shelter will come out of it with more public presence from the Chief of Staff.
Living in Israel is like driving on a highway without brakes, with spectacular views and a gas station that sells some of the best hummus in the country.
You never know what tomorrow will bring – but there’s a good chance it will start with an alarm and end with a deep conversation about life, with a cold beer and a strong sense of belonging.
How did a nation of poets and pistachios become the collective monster of Israeli news?
Does that mean there is no threat? … No.
Does that mean we should laugh about it a little? … Absolutely.
What Are They Trying to Sell Us in the Name of “The Protest”
November 30, 2025
