While the public toils and tears, its politicians never quit politicking.
It’ll be over by Christmas” is an old saying from the first months of World War I. That war lasted from July 1914 to November 1918—almost four and a half years. To Israel’s leaders’ credit, they have never said such a thing about our war. When it began a year ago, with the brutal attack on October 7, neither Christmas nor any Jewish holy day was mentioned as a possible end date. The war started on a holy day, and when it ends it will be a different type of holy day—that is, if Israel ends up winning it.
How long does a war take? For many wars, identifying the start date is easier than agreeing on an end date. World War I ended in November 1918, or maybe 30 years later, when the dust settled on World War II. Israel’s smaller-scale Yom Kippur War started on, well, Yom Kippur of 1973. A cease-fire was reached with Egypt on one date and with Syria on a different date. Prolonged negotiations on how to settle the conflict continued for several years. With Egypt, we could say that the war truly ended with the peace accords of 1978. With Syria, the war never ended. It is still ongoing—the same war, by a different name.
In late August, former Defense Minister and IDF Chief Benny Gantz declared that our current war will take “a year, a decade, a generation”: a year of intense fighting, a decade of controlling Gaza, a generation to “de-radicalize” the area. So the first phase is almost over, assuming we can trust the assessment of the man who’s no longer a member of the decision-making apparatus. If he’s right about the second phase—and many signs point to such a possibility as the only option if Israel is serious about uprooting Hamas’s control over the territory—many more Israelis will serve, fight and even die in the Gaza Strip in the next decade.
We have some experience with such missions, since Israeli forces were stationed in southern Lebanon from 1985 to 2000. For many years, that period, in which somewhere between 500 and 650 soldiers gave their lives to “defend Israel’s north,” was not even recognized with the name “war.” Only in 2020, two decades after Israel’s pullout from the region, did then-Defense Minister Gantz decide to acknowledge that period as a “campaign.” (Then-Military Chief Aviv Kohavi was the first to be awarded a campaign medal designed belatedly for those who served in southern Lebanon during Israel’s occupation of the area.)
As for Gantz’s third prediction—that it will take a “generation” to “de-radicalize” the area—he is probably being an optimist. Americans ought to be familiar with the term “long war.” More than a few wars have been called that, but for Americans the “long war” is most commonly associated with the war against Islamist radicalism, the war that—to quote a report from the RAND Corporation—“has been described by some as an epic struggle against adversaries bent on forming a unified Islamic world to supplant Western dominance, while others characterize it more narrowly as an extension of the war on terror.” Did that war end with the pullout of most American forces from Iraq? Or of all forces from Afghanistan? Or is it merely in a quiet period, awaiting another eruption, as happened when Syria deteriorated into a civil war or when ISIS suddenly emerged on the scene?
We know that long wars begin with a shock, continue with exhilaration, then become a wearing-out reality. In Israel, the government has been quick to declare that the war will be long, but quite slow to make the adjustment necessary for fighting a long war. The burden on regular soldiers in Israel is heavy; on families of reserve soldiers, even heavier. Many children of evacuees from northern towns just started a second school year away from home, with no return date in sight. Israel’s economy is stressed, and the government has only just now begun to discuss what services will be cut, what benefits will be canceled, what investments will be delayed, what taxes will be raised. Yes, they just started these discussions! In the meantime, as Winston Churchill might have put it, our cabinet has “nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat.”
Alas, this Churchillian message is delivered by uninspiring communicators who seem all too able to continue business as usual. While the public toils and tears, its politicians never quit politicking. They still have resources to take care of the special needs of their special interest groups; they still have time to reissue plans for a judicial reform that will surely tear the public apart yet again, even in the midst of a generational war.
Maybe that’s inevitable. We tend to forget that Churchill was exceptional. And we forget human nature and our tendency to get used to things—including bloody wars; including the devastating reality of hostages still in captivity; including the unfathomable reality of an empty region that used to be the most beautiful part of the country. And including the smallness and pettiness of our leaders.