When I tell sympathetic non-Israelis that people here don't feel that Israel's continued existence is a given, the reaction is usually bewilderment. How can a state with such a strong army, an extensive nuclear arsenal, a highly developed and diversified economy and a healthy political system possibly perceive itself as existentially threatened? Its power and success make its description of itself as perpetual victim seem paranoid, and make its forceful responses to aggression by its neighbours appear extreme. Israel comes off as the neighbourhood bully, swaggering around the streets daring the other kids to knock the chip off its shoulder.
The meaning of the summer of 2006 for Israelis, therefore, may not be immediately obvious to others. A year ago, with the completion of the evacuation of Israeli settlers from Gaza and part of the northern West Bank, Israelis felt again like masters of their own fate. They had successfully dealt with the intifada, and had made it clear to the Palestinians that if they weren't ready to play ball on Israel's terms, it had the option to act unilaterally.
The Israel civil war that so many feared would be sparked by the Gaza "disengagement" did not materialise, both because the security forces that carried out the withdrawal did so with irresistible power, but also because the settlers, despite their rhetoric, chose not to resist violently. A few months later, when a stroke put Ariel Sharon out of commission, Ehud Olmert handled the temporary takeover of power with grace, reassuring the public that he would continue in the unilateral spirit initiated by Sharon. He responded to the rise of Hamas with the message that Israel would deal with the new Palestinian leadership only if it met certain basic requirements, such as recognising Israel and respecting prior agreements.
Israel went ahead with its election on the date that had been scheduled before Sharon's illness, and his Kadima party, now led by Olmert, won enough seats to be able to assemble a new government, in partnership with Labour, creating the impression that a multi-partisan majority existed and would be able to deal with both the new social agenda demanded by voters and a pullout from settlements in the West Bank.
Perhaps it was this sense of security, combined with a lack of war experience shared by Olmert and his defence minister, Amir Peretz, that led them to respond to Hizbullah's 12th July provocation from across the Lebanese border, in which it kidnapped two Israeli soldiers and killed eight, with an extensive bombing campaign against south Lebanon. Israel had watched as the Shia group undertook a military build-up in preceding years, and understood that an estimated 12,000 rockets of different ranges were now stockpiled around the country's south, intended for use against Israel. Israel needed a reason to move against Hizbullah; the kidnapping provided it.
But the inconclusive result of the campaign raised doubts about the decision to invade, especially as Hizbullah's relative success earned it kudos around the Muslim world and Israel's "disproportionate" reaction won it even more foes. Today, Israelis are not only unwelcome in Jordan and Egypt (including Sinai, until recently our Great Outback), but also moderate Turkey.
No less worrying were the reports that Israeli soldiers brought back with them from the front. Reservists found themselves sent in to fight without adequate equipment or ammunition. Army supply lines were unable to provide them with enough water. Despite Israel's knowledge that Hizbullah was armed with armour-piercing rockets, the army launched an armoured assault and saw 46 tanks hit, leading to 20 of the 117 Israeli soldier deaths.
Worst of all, however, was the appearance of indecision within the military and political elite. Four weeks into the fighting, the chief of staff, Dan Halutz, effectively deposed the head of the Israel Defence Forces' northern command, the officer basically responsible for prosecuting the war. This decision did nothing to bolster confidence. Lower-level officers reported that they often felt they were on their own in the field, with an unclear sense of either strategy or tactics.
As the war within Lebanon was being fought with only limited success, the home front was taking a beating, absorbing nearly 4,000 Hizbullah rockets, with 43 civilian casualties and economic losses estimated at well over $1bn. Those citizens in the country's north who could relocate south did so, but the poorer among them had to sit out the war in inadequately maintained bomb shelters. There were even cases of municipal officials leaving town after the missiles began to fall.
Israel's attorney general and police investigators remained on the job, however, and by mid-September we had a justice minister, Haim Ramon, on trial for sexual harassment, and another senior Kadima official, Tzachi Hanegbi, indicted for influence-peddling. The state president, Moshe Katsav, is in the midst of a humiliating police investigation after being accused by a former employee of rape, and new press reports each week suggest a long history as a sexual abuser. The state comptroller is looking into suspicions that Olmert, who has been dogged by accusations of corruption throughout his career, was the personal beneficiary of a real-estate deal in which he misused his power to change zoning requirements for a developer; and Dan Halutz, the IDF chief of staff, was the subject of a flurry of attention when the media learned that he had sold off his stock portfolio during several hours on 12th July between the kidnapping and the Israeli counter-invasion.
Before March's general election, the split in the Likud and the surprise capture of the Labour leadership by Amir Peretz led to a purging from the main parties' electoral lists of ageing hacks and politicians suspected and even convicted of a variety of corruption charges. And after years of cuts in social budgets and a marked growth in poverty, social welfare started to receive proper attention in the campaign. A new era in Israeli politics seemed to be opening.
Imagine then, just a few months later, the disillusionment of even a cynical electorate in the wake of new criminal allegations against the politicians who remain in power, the incompetence with which the government agencies dealt with the needs of the north in the war, and the conduct of the war itself. There is strong public support for the convening of a state inquiry to investigate the failures of the Lebanon war, but a month after the ceasefire, the government was still fumbling to come up with a formula for a panel that satisfied critics' demands.
Add to this the latest developments in Iran, which is on what appears to be an unstoppable course to nuclear weapons, and perhaps it is easier to understand Israelis' renewed sense of insecurity. Ahmadinejad may indeed be mad, but isn't that a reason to take his declarations more seriously? A madman is less likely to be deterred by Israel's presumed second-strike capability, which would guarantee a devastating response to a nuclear attack, even after Israeli society was destroyed.
Israelis see a direct line running from Tehran to Damascus to Hizbullah's hardened command centre in Beirut. So Israelis feel surrounded, and they are no longer confident they can rely on institutions that were once above suspicion, like the army, to protect them. Is it any wonder many here have begun asking if those who say that time is not on their side are right? All options, it seems, have now been explored, and none of them work.
