Even When the Ground is Burning

Freed hostage Yarden Bibas, whose wife and two young children were murdered in captivity, sparked a social media movement earlier this week by holding a handwritten sign that read: “There is no independence when they are still there,” referring, of course, to the 59 remaining hostages in Gaza.

Tragically, a convergence of nature, climate change, and past inaction actualized Yarden’s words, as wildfires swept through Jerusalem and surrounding areas. These fires, the worst in Israel’s history, forced evacuations and led to the cancellation of various Yom HaAtzmaut celebrations.

There are multiple ways to interpret the story of these wildfires as metaphor and mirror for Israel’s current condition and our relationship to it.

One perspective is that of helpless victimhood, of being overwhelmed by forces beyond our control. But that view conveniently ignores the actions, or inactions, of those in power. Far-right MK and Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, long labelled a “pyromaniac” for his criminal record and extremist views, rejected a 2022 Israeli police request to purchase firefighting helicopters. Just two months ago, the Israeli Climate Forum, an expert body sponsored by President Isaac Herzog, warned of the looming wildfire threat and urged the prime minister to convene an emergency meeting. The warning was ignored.

Another way to read this moment is through the lens of relationships and shared responsibility. As right-wing governments worldwide, including Israel’s, grow increasingly isolationist, and as Israeli officials double down on the narrative of being “a nation that dwells alone", this crisis revealed the enduring truth: we still need allies.

Foreign Minister Gideon Sa'ar reached out to over a dozen countries for help, with Italy, Spain, and France rushing to assist with firefighting aircraft. Notably, France has signalled its intention to potentially recognize a Palestinian state in June, and Spain and Italy have both committed to bilateral arms embargoes earlier this year. For this, they have been condemned by Israeli officials and labelled as adversaries.

But we have long maintained that actions taken by Israel’s allies, including Canada, stem not from hatred or betrayal, but from a deep commitment to shared democratic values. What clearer expression of friendship is there than these countries responding swiftly in Israel’s time of need?

As we commemorate Yom HaAtzmaut, let us renew our hope that Israel can still live up to its founding ideals, to be not just a state, but a nation among nations, rooted in justice, equality, and international law.

Because if the first story is a warning from the past, and the second a hope for the future, there is a third story, murkier and harder to face - the story of now.

While Israel’s fire services were stretched thin responding to the wildfires, settlers in the occupied West Bank lit fires to nearby agricultural lands.

Concurrently, blame for the wildfires raging in and around Jerusalem quickly turned to Palestinians. Three East Jerusalem Palestinians were detained on flimsy accusations, despite fire authorities stating there was no evidence of arson. To further inflame tensions, Prime Minister Netanyahu inexplicably claimed 18 Palestinians had been taken into custody, and one "caught red-handed", despite no evidence of either of these claims.

In our increasingly volatile climate, such massive wildfires are becoming tragically routine, and most often stem from neglect, not malice.

We are not merely passive victims. Yom HaAtzmaut reminds us that we are no longer stateless. Through the institutions of our state, we can shape our destiny. That includes preparedness for climate-related disasters.

But our independence should not come at the cost of another’s freedom. We must not be a people who, having gained sovereignty, use it to oppress. We must not seek vengeance through destruction or scapegoat the most powerless in our society to deflect from our own failures or sow division.

The story of these fires, woven into the days of Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut, demands reflection. Who do we want to be? Who are we becoming? Are those two paths still aligned?

The iconic Israeli song Ein Li Eretz Acheret (“I Have No Other Land”), written in grief after the songwriter’s brother died in the 1982 Lebanon War and revived in today’s pro-democracy protests, includes the line: “I have no other land, even when its ground is burning.”

For some, it may feel easier to disconnect from Israel or refrain from celebrating its independence in light of the nation’s current trajectory. But Yom HaAtzmaut also reminds us of the rare and hard-won privilege of sovereignty, and the responsibility that comes with it.

So even though the ground is burning, let us not stand by as helpless victims, let us instead douse the flames and cultivate the future we know is possible.