In Tel Aviv, aqua enthusiast Ophir Levy, age 23, expresses her frustration at Iran’s continued threats towards Israel about their alleged dual assassinations. From her swimming spot, she finds these threats an irritant, feeling secure with the protective Iron Dome missile defence system overhead and a sturdy bomb shelter below. Her blunt advice to Iran’s supreme leader, Khamenei, is to simply carry out their threats so that life can move forward.
Although her boldness expresses a somewhat defiant tone, her sentiments reveal a region filled with tension and restlessness. A similar sentiment can be found 200km north of Tel Aviv, where in a Beirut mall, Cherine Sikkar, 38, shares her desire for an end to the lurking threat of war. Exhausted from fear-driven news scrolling on her mobile, and shed tears under her bedding, she yearns for the looming conflict to begin and end.
This wish stems from her desire to see an end to the cycle of anticipation and uncertainty. This tension escalated a week earlier when Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Iran’s supreme leader, promised retaliation for Israel’s alleged assassination of a Hizbullah leader, backed by Iran in Beirut, along with a suspected Israeli led termination of Hamas’s political head in Tehran.
Meanwhile, US military forces with their aircraft carriers have been strategically positioning themselves, foreign secretaries have gathered in Saudi Arabia, and the sound of Israeli warplanes ominously breaks the tranquillity of Beirut’s skies.
Both Lebanese and Israelis are united in their apprehensive wait; a confrontation could either amplify the existing regional rivalry or trigger a devastating full-scale war.
As time drags on, the waiting takes on a punitive quality of its own. For Israelis, who have been locked in a ten-month war with Hamas in Gaza, the south, there’s an ominous anticipation of an impending clash with the considerably more intimidating Hezbollah, in the north. This has cultivated a cocktail of bleak humour and underlying fear.
On Tuesday night, Hizbullah leader, Hassan Nasrallah, stated that Israel’s week-long wait was part of the punishment, lauding it as part of the battle strategy, playing on psychological, moral, and military aspects. However, he failed to acknowledge the distress this situation inflicts upon his fellow Lebanese citizens as well.
Being trapped amid the Israeli military and Iran’s proxy Shia militant group, there’s a pervasive fear among Lebanese civilians of Israel’s potential counter-attack or even a proactive strike – this without the security of advanced air defences and expensive underground bomb shelters that are probable to shelter the majority of Israel’s citizens.
Wednesday saw mixed reactions amongst Beirut residents, ranging from panic, evident in some filling shopping bags with canned food and water, to resignation with others opting for sunbathing at the beach. “We all have our unique ways of dissociating,” retorted a customer hoarding canned corn and baby wipes, preparing for the looming war.
People with the capability fled to safer regions in northern Lebanon while others chose to stay with family in other parts of Beirut, further from prospective Israeli targets in Hizbullah’s territories but nonetheless still heavily populated by civilians.
For the last ten months, Lebanese citizens have anxiously observed Israel and Hizbullah’s escalating border clashes, predominantly limited to the frontier areas. The unsettling concern, however, is that the next stage of conflict could amplify the carnage.
In response to all this, a podcast recording depicting a Tuesday sonic boom turned viral in Lebanon, with a guest almost instantly recognising the horrid sound. Her quick recognition was attributed to the uncomfortable fact that such noises had become a familiar phenomenon.
Meanwhile, in Israel, people adapted to the sombre circumstances through humour – creating and sharing memes and WhatsApp stickers. Resignation and a sense of impotence mingled with relative optimism as most Israelis chose to stay put.
Hizbullah’s arsenal now has the capacity to strike anywhere within Israel, while drones deployed by the Houthi have successfully breached Tel Aviv city centre and spanned the expanse of the Red Sea. Furthermore, the Iranian missile system has proven its ability to target even the most fortified airbases within Israel.
That said, during Iran’s reprisal attack in April, which was in response to a lethal assault on its diplomatic outpost in Syria, the majority of Iran’s missiles were intercepted, thanks to assistance from the United States and its allies. A large number of flights have been suspended, though the coast remains open for tourists.
There is a flurry of humour online; after a social media handle that posts Nasrallah’s addresses adopted his premonitory statement to Israel – “Perhaps this evening, possibly tomorrow, potentially next week” – an onslaught of responses from Israelis ensued.
“Like me embarking on a diet,” admitted one social media user.
Meanwhile, as tensions escalated, Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu urged his compatriots to maintain composure and level-headedness. Concurrently, Defence Minister Yoav Gallant observed the military’s preparations for possible conflict in Lebanon, cautioning that Nasrallah could inadvertently compel Lebanon to bear enormous costs; costs beyond their wildest imaginations.
Consequent to the lack of exposure concerning the desperate diplomacy happening behind the scenes globally, conjecture is widespread, leaving civilians as uninformed as high-ranking governmental personnel.
“It’s going to happen tonight,” a Jaffa barista predicted on Monday. “I have a hunch.”
“Stay safe,” a governmental official advised a Financial Times correspondent on the same day. “It’s happening tonight.”
However, it did not. Both Lebanon and Israel endured to face another day. This piece is copyright of The Financial Times Limited 2024.