(Tribune News Service) — Israeli children, long free to wander, are now routinely chaperoned. Gun license applications are up by a factor of eight. Self-defense classes are oversubscribed.
Since Hamas operatives crossed into Israel on a killing and kidnapping spree on Oct. 7, a society that enjoyed 15 years of relative calm and rising prosperity remains haunted by scenes of slaughter. Israelis have been left traumatized by the fear that thousands of militants on their borders will try again — and that their security services might again fail.
“This is a natural reaction to the shock we are going through,” said David Passig, professor of future studies at Bar Ilan University, of the way ordinary citizens are rushing to arm themselves. He has had a weapon for 35 years that was kept locked away, he said, except for mandatory practice sessions. “Now I’m walking around with it.”
The political impact of this anxiety is likely to be profound, even if it has yet to fully play out. National security has long been the calling card of Israel’s right. Yet it was the right, led by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, that failed to stop the invasion that killed about 1,200 and led to the abduction of 240 others.
Polls show disillusionment with Netanyahu and support shifting to the more centrist opposition leader Benny Gantz — part of the newly formed war cabinet. But there’s little appetite for compromise with Palestinians, as so many abroad have urged.
The nation’s dark mood reflects a level of threat unknown to the Israeli public for many years, said Dan Orbach, a military historian at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. People have been motivated by disquiet that the “allegedly mighty Israeli military isn’t able to protect you, even in the most basic sense,” he said.
The number of people applying for gun licenses over the past two months has soared to 260,000, with the volume of new requests each day exceeding those received each week before the war began.
Although the country has widened eligibility, the criteria for approval remain strict. As of the last week of November, 26,000 new applications had been approved while 16,000 people were rejected as unfit to carry a firearm.
Tara, a young woman who lives in Jerusalem and asked that her full name not be used, is one of many who procured a gun license. Since Oct. 7, “I am way more paranoid,” she said. “If I am at a red light I don’t turn my back on anyone.”
In a society with a history of communal tensions that long pre-date October’s attack, some are concerned about the consequence of more civilian weapons. Although the percentage of the population toting guns will still be far lower than many other countries — hovering near 2%, compared with 32% in the US — womens’ groups and those calling for peaceful coexistence between Arabs and Israelis have said they’re worried the uptick will lead to greater violence.
Opposition lawmaker Idan Roll said by phone the issuing of new weapons requires close monitoring, regulation and education.
“Weapons in the right hands save lives,” said Public Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, of the far-right Otzma Yehudit Party, who has made arming civilians groups a flagship policy. His ministry has distributed weapons to more than 850 so-called rapid-response teams.
Last month, the US exacted a promise that assault rifles sent to Israel wouldn’t end up in the hands of settler groups in the Palestinian-controlled West Bank, where there’s been an increase in violence documented by the United Nations.
Within Israel, buildings are routinely equipped with bomb shelters to protect from missiles shot by outfits including Hamas, which is considered a terrorist group by the US and European Union.
But when thousands of rockets were fired on Oct. 7, reports spread of those who turned to unlocked shelters only for armed Hamas operatives to burst through the doors, leaving them with nowhere to run. Now, Israelis want to know that they can secure their own safe rooms.
New products are appearing for the purpose — some on the commercial market, while others are homemade. In the small community of Tzelafon in central Israel, the head of the local council, Isaac AbuKarat, came up with a makeshift device to lock thick, cumbersome doors, and began to make copies with his neighbors. “We installed them in 60 homes,” he said of the jerry-rigged pieces of wood which act as a lock.
In the weeks after Oct. 7, some people feared that some Hamas operatives had headed north, and in Tel Aviv hotlines were overwhelmed by calls about suspicious characters. El Halev Israel is a non-profit organization that runs empowerment self-defense classes. On the back of soaring demand it started Zoom lessons, consulted those who’d worked in war zones, and adjusted classes for female sexual-violence victims to be relevant to men, said Adi Wimmer, the executive director.
Lawyer Neomi Shenitzky is one of hundreds of people to have joined one of the newly-formed Neighborhood Watch teams, a grass-roots effort that has since been embraced by the municipality, which provides them with specially marked hats and shirts.
In her suburb of Nahalat Yitzhak, the teams patrol the streets from 8pm to midnight, either on foot or bicycle. They carry flashlights, walkie-talkies and personal weapons. There are 50 such groups in the Tel Aviv area with about 1,500 volunteers. Similar teams have sprung up elsewhere as well, often backed by municipalities.
All of these developments have produced some calm — except in Israeli Arab towns, where residents suffer from even greater anxiety than their Jewish counterparts, according to a poll by the Israel Democracy Institute. A number of Israeli Arabs were killed and kidnapped in the Oct. 7 attacks.
Roll, the lawmaker from the opposition Yesh Atid party, said that allowing more citizens who pass government scrutiny to carry guns is necessary to help people to feel safe. The government may revoke the licenses once peace is restored, he added.
No one expects that to be soon.
“The fear and vulnerability will follow the society for some time,” said Orbach, the Hebrew University historian.
With assistance from Julius Domoney.
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