Michael Freund served as Deputy Director of Communications and Policy Planning in the Prime Minister’s Office from 1996 to 1999. He can be reached at msfreund@netvision.net.il.
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Life in Israel of late has become surreal. Due to the ongoing Palestinian terror campaign, even the most mundane of tasks has taken on an aura of peril, transforming our daily lives into a series of carefully calculated, deliberate steps. Every errand that needs to be done, every trip to the supermarket or the mall, inevitably invites some level of risk assessment, as one is forced to make decisions we ought never have had to face.

News of a suicide bombing, of course, takes on new meaning, and new urgency, when you know people who live in the town, or stay at the hotel, where it has occurred. Suddenly, it is not just another horrific event that took place in a far-off location, where the comfort of distance enables you to block it out of your mind and your conscience. Instead, it becomes breathtakingly real. It is here. It is now. And it is frightening as hell.

Hoping to escape, if only for a few hours, from the reality around us, my wife and I ventured out to a popular local cafe on a recent Saturday night, seeking a respite from the news and its repercussions.

But as soon as we arrived, I realized that escape is no longer possible. The awful reality has intruded into every aspect of our lives. There was no line at the door, no waiting list for a table, and no buzz of conversation emerging from within. The cafe was empty, its patrons scared off by the recent string of Palestinian terror attacks.

Standing at the door was a security guard, who checked us out before allowing us to enter. What a terrible job he has to do, I thought. In return for minimal pay, and little gratitude or respect, he must stand there on the edge of the unknown, the cafe's first and last line of defense against potential Palestinian attackers. Should some madman come and try to detonate himself, the guard would surely be among the first of his victims.

After completing our brief security inspection, we were greeted by a waitress, who seemed somewhat surprised that anyone was still willing to patronize a cafe with everything that is going on. Dejectedly, she indicated that we could sit where we pleased, as there were plenty of seats available.

Even the bill at the end of a meal has been affected by what Israelis refer to as "the situation." After calculating the total, and adding the tax, an additional two shekels (less than 50 cents) had been added, a "security surcharge" meant to offset, at least in part, the cost to the cafe of hiring a guard. That's right--they don't just serve your meal anymore. Now, it is provided to you along with an armed escort.

In these crazy times, when no one in Israel seems safe from the recurring plague of terror, even our children's schools have been transformed into armed compounds. Parents are pooling funds to hire private security guards, whose tasks include combing the school grounds at the beginning and the end of the day to make sure there are no explosive devices that have been planted on the premises. These young men and women, many of whom recently completed their mandatory army service in a combat unit, now stand posted at the school entrances like sentinels, smiling at the children, but keeping their rifles ready, just in case.

Living with this on a daily basis is enough to wear down any person's psyche. The tension and the uncertainty have taken a heavy toll on many Israelis, shaking their confidence and leaving them fearful for the future. When your enemy knows no bounds, moral or otherwise, the likelihood of ever resolving the conflict seems infinitely remote, a thought as unavoidable as it is depressing.

But despite it all, we are here to stay. This is neither pseudo-heroism nor an empty cliché. The Jewish people, quite simply, are tired of running. We have been chased throughout history, and there is no place left for us to go.

As the current crisis has demonstrated, Israel has become the world's Jew, a magnet for antagonism and hatred, a target of discrimination and double standards. Our suffering is of little consequence to the powers that be, many of whom seem neither to feel our pain nor understand our anguish. Instead, they cajole us to embrace our enemy, even as he straps on a belt of explosives and plans his next atrocity.

And so, we find ourselves alone and misunderstood, just as we have on so many other occasions throughout our long and tortured past.

But this time, there is one, very crucial, difference. This time, the Jewish people will not go down without a fight.

Views expressed by the author do not necessarily reflect those of israelinsider.

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