This one was different. On the morning of June 13—Friday the 13th, of all things—we in Israel were awoken by an eerie, piercing blast. At first, the alarm blasted that it was an “earthquake” warning. A few minutes later, we learned the truth: Israel had struck Iran.
Ever since arriving in Israel a little more than a month ago, my family and I have gotten used to the habitual strikes of the Houthis, sometimes running for cover under a bus station or in the nearest sealed room. But this was somehow distinct.
And then it came: wave after wave after wave.
Sunday night’s actions were bold, courageous and daring. The Israeli Air Force has conducted more than 200 sorties so far. The goal to eliminate the Iranian nuclear threat has been looming over Israel’s existence for the last two decades and more. We also know that in the 77 years since 1948, there have been continuous existential threats against the State of Israel. And we know, as well, that Israel is simply the appetizer. The main course is the United States and the entire free world.
Natanz has been the epicenter of the uranium enrichment facility, the site responsible for the 60% enrichment of uranium, just a hair’s breadth away from the 90% necessary for nuclear bombs. The electricity in the underground facility, where the centrifuges had been spinning, was also destroyed. Isfahan, where the nuclear assembly took place, was badly damaged. Some of the above-ground sites at Fordow, buried deep in the mountains near Qum, caused some mild damage.
The meticulously executed strikes on these high-profile targets signaled not just a show of military might but a symbolic statement to adversaries near and far. The operation underscored Israel’s resolve to address emerging threats with precision and urgency. Each wave of sorties aimed to dismantle Iran’s intricate nexus of influence, a network that extended its reach through proxies and covert alliances across the region.
While the military objectives were clear, the broader implications were anything but straightforward. The strikes disrupted Iran’s strategic calculus, forcing its leadership to reconsider its posture and alliances in the region. My WhatsApp group depicts scores and scores of ecstatic Iranians, delighted to see an end to their brutal regime.
Yet as much as the operation dealt a significant blow to much of Iran’s capabilities, it also raised the stakes in a geopolitical contest that seemed to have no end in sight. The immediate question was not just how Iran would respond but how its allies and proxies would regroup in the wake of such decisive action.
Meanwhile, the human impact of the operation reverberated through both Israel and Iran, as ordinary citizens confront an uncertain and precarious reality. In Israel, when we can, we cling to fleeting moments of normalcy, even as the specter of retaliation looms large.
It is important to note this distinct difference in tactics: The Israeli Air Force aims at the Iranian military and nuclear infrastructure. The Iranian regime aims at Israeli civilians.
In Iran, the loss of military and scientific leaders has left a vacuum—one that could either humble the regime into recalibrating its nuclear ambitions or embolden it to strike back with even greater ferocity.
The strikes also sent a ripple effect through global capitals, where policymakers scrambled to assess the ramifications. Would this bold move strengthen Israel’s position on the world stage, or would it deepen the rift between nations already divided on Middle Eastern policy? The answers to these questions seemed as elusive as peace itself in a region long accustomed to volatility and conflict.
The strategic brilliance of the operation was undeniable, showcasing Israel’s determination and capability to neutralize threats. Yet the cost was equally apparent: a deeper chasm in an already fragile regional stability and an even more precarious future for diplomacy. The strikes had altered the calculus of power, and now the question remains: How far will the ripples reach?
Across the region, alliances are being re-examined, and rhetoric has intensified. Leaders are convening in emergency meetings—some fuming with outrage, others quietly recalibrating strategies in light of the altered landscape. The airwaves buzz with conflicting narratives, each trying to assert dominance over the truth. For Israel, these strikes are a calculated risk, a gamble that its survival depends on preempting the existential threats—a gamble that now hangs precariously over the fragile balance of global diplomacy.
Still, one cannot help but wonder. Where were these leaders when the centrifuges spun unchecked beneath the mountains of Fordow? Where were they when proxies launched rockets into civilian centers, when children were raised on textbooks soaked in genocidal ideology? Where was the righteous indignation then?
There will be much talk in the coming days—about proportionality, about diplomacy, about restraint. But those who live under the perpetual threat of annihilation do not have the luxury of academic debates. They act not out of vengeance but out of necessity. And necessity, now more than ever, dictates vigilance and clarity.
As I sit each night in the sealed room, watching my grandchildren sleep while sirens wail in the distance, I think of generations past—of those who perished without defense, without a homeland, without a voice. And I think of this moment not as an end, but as a defiant affirmation.
Because this is the reason for Israel’s existence: to protect and defend the heart and soul of the Jewish nation and the Jewish people.