When War is Normalized

We’ve seen this happen before, with the deepening and further entrenchment of the occupation of the West Bank over the past fifty-plus years. And we’ve already witnessed the consequences of such apathy and normalization.

This week, Israel continues its military campaign against Iran. What began as a supposedly “limited, preemptive operation” has quietly evolved into an open-ended escalation. As in Gaza, the war that was meant to end in days stretched to weeks, then months. Now, the Israeli security establishment says the Iran campaign will “take longer than initially thought.”

This is not an accident. It is a manufactured reality. A deliberate political strategy by Prime Minister Netanyahu and his successive governments to keep Israel in a constant state of conflict, to make the war that began after Hamas’ horrific October 7 attacks Israel’s last war. Not because it will bring resolution or peace, but because it will never end.

This is Netanyahu’s vision, and he has successfully exported it not only to Israelis, but to many in our diaspora Jewish communities. It is a worldview rooted in perpetual threat, existential fear, and the normalization of endless war. Many Israelis, and many Jews in the diaspora, have absorbed this worldview, even if they claim to oppose Netanyahu himself.

This is at the heart of why there is no real political opposition in Israel. This outlook is now so dominant that even opposition leaders line up behind many of Netanyahu’s actions.

And even if we were to accept that this was the only way to effectively deal with Iran, we still must ask critical questions, not only because we deserve answers, but because to believe otherwise is to abandon democratic accountability. What is the objective? What is the exit strategy? What is the cost?

Instead, too many are content to line up behind the messianic fantasies of warmongers, repeating a familiar refrain: “What choice did we have?” But this question is a lie.

Israel is not without choices. To suggest otherwise is to erase the very premise of sovereignty and self-determination. Zionism was never meant to be an isolationist project. On the contrary, establishing our rightful place among the family of nations was at the very heart of Zionist organizing. It was, and must remain, a project rooted not only in the privilege of sovereignty, but in the responsibility of agency: our ability to shape our own future.

If we believe in that future, we must insist that other choices are not only possible, but necessary.

Because a state of permanent war does not make Israelis safer. It does not bring back the hostages. And it certainly does not offer Palestinians a path to dignity or freedom. Instead, it traps everyone, Israelis, Palestinians, and the broader region, in a cycle of fear and violence that only deepens with each passing day.

Even as the war expands, basic failures of governance are being exposed, and we must confront them.

If the government had been planning this attack for over a year, why were no adequate plans made for Israelis stranded abroad?

Why was there no investment in bomb shelters in vulnerable communities, including Arab towns and under-resourced peripheries, if this attack was anticipated?

What happens if the U.S. refuses to escalate alongside Israel?

What is the desired political outcome of this campaign? If it’s regime change in Iran, is that even possible?

We must be willing to ask these questions, not only because they are practical, but because democracies owe their people accountability. The failure to plan for civilian protection, to engage in real diplomacy, or to define achievable goals is not just a lapse in policy. It is a dereliction of leadership.

After October 7, many said that we cannot talk about peace. That to do so is tone-deaf or naïve. That was a costly mistake, and we are not exempt from acknowledging our own role in it. We must never make that mistake again. Because peace, like war, is a political process. It demands sacrifice, strategy, and serious leadership. But unlike war, it offers something greater: a future. Security. Stability. The chance to live, rather than merely survive.

When we abandon that position, we create a false binary between peace and war. And we allow peace to become something only possible, only mentionable, when things are already peaceful, a situation that, by definition, never comes. This ensures that those who beat the drums of war always win the rhetorical battle, and translate those wins into policy.

Yet it is in these very moments of war that we see that diplomacy, not militarism, is saving lives. Many Israelis who were stranded abroad are now returning via routes secured by peace treaties with Jordan and Egypt. In the midst of war, it is our relationships, not our weapons, that are keeping people safe.

This must be our guiding principle: real security comes from diplomacy, not domination.

Our belief that to love Israel is to engage in principled critique is not simply about permitting dissent; it is, as we are seeing now, essential for the survival of Israel itself.

Just as much as military intervention, we need accountability, clear-eyed critique, and a refusal to let fear be our only compass. Peace is not idealistic, it is urgent. And it must begin with a recognition that the current path is unsustainable.

We know many in our community feel fearful and afraid, and fear is a powerful motivator. But so is hope, when it is granted to us.

To accept the fear, the false premise that there is no other choice, is to quash hope not only for others but for ourselves. It is to harden our own hearts, and accept the risks of death and destruction as necessary consequences, but not the risks of diplomacy and negotiation.

We must refuse and reject this path, and we must refuse and reject that there is no other path. We must not again fall into the trap that now is not the time to talk about peace. Now is exactly the time.