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Beyond the ceasefire: how Haifa and the north are navigating post-conflict challenges – opinion

 
 SOLDIERS IN Kiryat Shmona, last Wednesday, after the ceasefire with Hezbollah went into effect: The scars, both physical and emotional, may never heal, the writer laments.  (photo credit: JAMAL AWAD/FLASH90)
SOLDIERS IN Kiryat Shmona, last Wednesday, after the ceasefire with Hezbollah went into effect: The scars, both physical and emotional, may never heal, the writer laments.
(photo credit: JAMAL AWAD/FLASH90)

A personal account of How Haifa and the North are rebuilding amid the ceasefire with Hezbollah.

As I write these words, Israel’s fragile ceasefire with Hezbollah hours ago remains technically intact. Yes, there have been breaches, but not to the extent that we’ve been forced back into bomb shelters. However, for those who have been living in genuine fear for their lives, escaping the mental and emotional prison of such trauma is not easy. Adults can’t shake it off, let alone children. It has simply been too terrifying for far too long.

Rebuilding life in the North demands more than promises and rhetoric. The restoration of communities in areas such the Golan Heights and Western Galilee must become a national priority of the highest order. In a better-governed world, our leadership would focus on three key objectives: bringing back the hostages; restoring the security and deterrence capabilities of the IDF and other security forces; and rebuilding the North in every imaginable aspect.

I could fill pages criticizing the government’s misplaced priorities, but it feels more urgent to focus on the day-to-day realities in towns like Haifa and the Krayot (a grouping of four small cities and two Haifa neighborhoods founded in the 1930s). Some northern localities, such as the cities of Nahariya, Acre, and Kibbutz Gesher HaZiv, were never evacuated, leaving them in an even more dire situation. 

The scars on these communities, both physical and emotional, might never fully heal, not to mention the heartbreaking sights of ruins in Safed, Metula, Kiryat Shmona, Dalton, and countless other beautiful places.But let’s return to Haifa for a moment. Last week, schools had not fully resumed, and children were still studying in limited “capsules.” Even in exceptional schools like my son’s, where the education, welfare, and emotional support systems are outstanding, it’s difficult to grasp the enormity of the situation. 

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The challenge lies in the impossible expectation that life should somehow return to normal when nothing about the current situation is normal. How can children be expected to settle back into a routine when their educational framework hasn’t fully recovered, and when Haifa is still classified as a “yellow zone”? The fear persists – and it will remain with us for a long time.

 View of a fire that started from missiles launched from Lebanon to Metula, northern Israel, June 18, 2024 (credit: AYAL MARGOLIN/FLASH90)
View of a fire that started from missiles launched from Lebanon to Metula, northern Israel, June 18, 2024 (credit: AYAL MARGOLIN/FLASH90)

Unfair expectations

I cannot think about the cliché that by choosing to live in Israel, we must resign ourselves to the constant presence of missiles and terror in our lives. It was never a fair expectation, and now, with rising antisemitism worldwide, it feels even more absurd. 

Israel is our only home, and we must defend it – absolutely. But should we also accept fear as an intrinsic part of civilian life? Before the war, I never thought about what would happen if a siren blared while I was in the shower; nor did I hesitate to light calming scented candles or leave a pot of soup simmering on the kitchen stove. These thoughts may seem excessive, but they became our daily reality – minute by minute, hour by hour. Every plan revolved around the inevitability of a sudden siren.


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The truth is that the lives of everyone I know in my hometown area have not returned to what they once were. Yes, over time, we may adapt to some extent, but we’ll still jump at every ambulance siren. The only true salve for the people of the North is resilience and determination.

Northern residents’ deepest fear now is daring to embrace freedom: the freedom to go to work without worrying about how we’ll reach our children in sudden danger; the freedom to offer our children a real childhood with reasonable, not suffocating, limitations; the freedom to breathe. We are afraid to taste freedom only to have it snatched away again.

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It turns out that you only truly appreciate something after you’ve lost it, and the North has indeed lost much – on multiple levels. 

The path forward demands decisive action against every violation or sign of rearmament. This ceasefire cannot be merely a respite for leaders to attend to personal matters. It must be an opportunity to rebuild all that has been broken as far as security, trust in the state, the joy of living in one of the most beautiful places in the world – the North of Israel – and, most importantly, our collective sense of self as a nation.

Only then can the residents of the North breathe freely once more and look toward a better future with determination.

The author works in the media sector and is a writer and blogger.

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