Northern Israel's borderlands is under shadow of war - analysis

Smoke rises from Maroun al-Ras, one of the villages of southern Lebanon. Nearby, there is dark smoke from a fire burning further to the east, which can be seen from an area in northern Israel near Dalton, a moshav not far from Lebanon. This area has fields of grapevines that earlier in the year were likely bursting with grapes. Now the leaves are tired and drooping, slowly drying and waiting for winter. They are also observing the escalating war between Israel and Hezbollah.

In the early hours of Monday, the IDF initiated a round of airstrikes targeting Hezbollah in Lebanon. The strikes came a day after Hezbollah launched long-range rockets targeting areas near Haifa. One of the rockets fell in Kiryat Bialik, wounding several people and damaging homes. The IDF is now expanding strikes on Hezbollah several days after hitting the commanders of the elite Radwan force in Beirut.

These days, a drive along Israel’s northern border is interdicted by checkpoints that warn drivers to avoid traveling on dangerous roads. The security situation has turned much of the area near the border into a site of quiet with few cars. It does not feel like a war zone though. The hills here shield people from hearing airstrikes or even the interception of rockets. Nevertheless, the winding roads also give a driver the sense that at any moment they can come over a hill and see into Lebanon and thus be within the range of Hezbollah’s anti-tank guided missiles.

I drove up from the coast via Nahariya toward the Christian towns, Jish and Fassuta, and the Druze town, Hurfiesh. The road here also passes a turnoff for the Crusader castle of Montfort and other old forts and castles from the Ottoman period and other eras. As one nears Jish, there are also signs for holy tombs – tombs of the Druze and Jews.

Smoke rose from southern Lebanon throughout Monday as the IDF carried out hundreds of strikes on Hezbollah. Near Jish, I stopped on the side of the road due to sirens.

I donned a helmet and waited. The sirens ended and I continued on my way toward Ramot Naftali. The road here passes the Circassian village of Rehaniya, which is part of the mosaic of diversity up here. Behind me, far in the distance, are Mount Meron and Safed, also the targets of Hezbollah rockets on Monday.

At this time, I was driving down the ridgeline toward the Hula Valley, which is beautiful this time of year; the ancient swamp was drained long ago but parts of it remain. There was a time when this area would have been overrun by tourists, the wineries open and flowing. Now, half a million children in northern Israel are home due to the Home Front Command’s instructions to keep people safe and away from schools.

Down in the valley

Down in the valley, many shops and even restaurants that had remained open for the last 11 months are closed. The well-known Kvish Tish hamburger restaurant near Mahanayim was closed, and only takeout could be purchased, while the Aroma that is on Highway 90 south of Kiryat Shmona was closed too.

Northern Israel is increasingly shutting down as the situation progresses. While Israel had evacuated the border of 60,000 people for 11 months, now the Hezbollah rocket threat is growing in range.

Hezbollah had already sought to increase its attacks, bit by bit, over the last months; it wants to drag Israel into a long war of attrition to cause economic disruption in Israel and force Israelis to stay home.

There is a sense in the North of waiting, a sense that has gone on for eleven months.

Israel has been on the defense; now it is turning the tables by striking Hezbollah more actively.

Yet, the waiting game continues, and people wonder what will come next. They are pleased to see Hezbollah suffer losses but wonder whether this situation can be reversed.

Israel has prepared for this for months. Local security teams are ready, as are the IDF and Home Front Command. But there is a sense here that the worst is yet to come. It has not even begun, many people told me. On the roads, there is a sense of emptiness as well. People don’t want to get used to this sense of an impending larger war, but they know there is no other choice.