Haifa’s struggle: Living through war and a broken promise of peace

Over the years, these promises expanded for our generation, those born in the 1980s and ’90s. We were promised a bright future.

By VARDIT SHTERENBACH NOVEMBER 17, 2024 02:00

An air defense system intercepts rockets fired from Lebanon, as seen in the skies over Haifa, earlier this month. ‘So, what does it mean to be a Haifa mother in our times? First and foremost, we’re caught between a rock and a hard place,’ says the writer. (photo credit: Arie Leib Abrams/Flash90)

The well-known song “Choref Shiv’im VeShalosh,” originally sung by the IDF Education Corps Band, a song played at every school ceremony we attended, has lyrics that go (loosely translated), “You promised us a dove, an olive branch, you promised peace at home.”

Over the years, these promises expanded for our generation, those born in the 1980s and ’90s. We were promised a bright future: a hi-tech powerhouse and a globalized world that would let us build families in the North while pursuing our dreams. For a while, it felt as if we were on the verge of realizing it all.

Then came the pandemic crisis. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, and, if anything, the shift to hybrid or remote work seemed to shrink the gap between the Center and the North, making our decision to stay here feel even more justified. We spoke about seizing the day, valuing real things – those treasures we’d managed to enjoy in our childhoods – and striving toward our dreams, using resilience to help our children overcome traumas. That was back in 2020.

By 2023, the country was split over judicial reform. We became divided into “Kaplanists” and government supporters. Even in Haifa, my beloved hometown, where I always return after stints in other cities, the tension was palpable. And here we are now in the fall of 2024. We are not in the Galilee and Safed, but we are feeling the war 24/7. So, what does it mean to be a Haifa mother in our times?

FIRST AND foremost, we’re caught between a rock and a hard place; the rocket attacks here aren’t severe enough to justify evacuation. But unlike cities like Herzliya, where tech workers fill restaurants with laughter and conversation, our streets are eerily empty. Concert halls in Haifa and the Krayot sit vacant because, despite the “protected areas,” the likelihood of a siren going off en route is too high, making most outings feel too risky.

A view from the Haifa promenade, looking downtown facing north and the port. (credit: Courtesy Liane Grunberg Wakabayashi)

This isn’t what routine feels like. Sure, we’re at home, which is much easier than being evacuated like many families that live near the border, but every visit to the playground or local ice cream shop becomes a mission. This is far from a peaceful life. This is a war routine.

The challenge of explaining to kids

The gap between government statements and reality is stark: no one here has been evacuated except independently. For northern residents, it’s clear there’s no sense in returning home without security. But in the central North, we have no indication of when the fire will end, allowing us to return to routine. Just two weeks ago, parents protested the return of children to school full-time, as they often end up in shelters several times a week or in crowded hallways if there isn’t enough room to accommodate everyone safely.

Explaining the inexplicable to children is its own challenge. Children see, feel, and ask everything. How do you explain why they’re sitting in a hallway or improvised shelter after they were told that full protection is essential? Or perhaps the education minister would like to answer the nine-year-olds who ask, if we’ve “won,” as Defense Minister Israel Katz has claimed, why are we still in shelters?

The perception that the situation is under control feels so far from reality that it seems as if those responsible for our security either don’t understand or are ignoring what we’re experiencing here. Personally, I want to believe they simply don’t understand. My biggest fear is that they just don’t care anymore. We’ve become an “acceptable” statistic in the rocket count.

Our days blur into a chaotic routine. But this cannot become the norm. The children of Haifa, the Krayot, and Nahariya should not “get used to” taking shelter even “just once” a day. No kid should get used to that. The day our children believe that this is their future – a future of running to shelters, an economically strained society, and a minority bearing the security burden – is the day Israel will no longer have a future. That is not an option.

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The central North – Haifa, Yokne’am, the Krayot, and Acre – is not just a cluster of residents who enjoyed peripheral housing prices while working in the Center. These are families who chose to live in the North and build it up to thrive like the Center. It cannot be that we are punished for that. This is not a political matter, as one might claim. It’s a moral matter.

It seems that at this stage, the North is caught in the crossfire and is politically overlooked despite being at the heart of Israel’s security, economic, and social stability. This is one of Israel’s most critical challenges and deserves the attention of a responsible leadership for a change.

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