It seems the smoke over Jerusalem isn’t just symbolic anymore.
As wildfires rage through the hills around Israel’s capital, scorching thousands of acres and forcing the evacuation of entire communities, a strange silence seems to hang in the air — not just from sirens or helicopters, but from a nation so accustomed to fire being something that happens elsewhere. After all, for months, fire has been a tool — dropped from drones, launched from jets, rained over besieged cities like Gaza. Precision-guided flames, they said, meant only for the “bad guys.” Except now the wind has changed. Literally.
Israel’s Independence Day was meant to be a show of unity, pride, and flag-waving. Instead, it became a smoke-filled emergency broadcast, with celebrations canned and the threat of fire creeping dangerously close to Jerusalem itself. Prime Minister Netanyahu, who knows a thing or two about how to manufacture a crisis, sounded almost surprised when he warned that the flames could reach the city. Strange, given how comfortable he’s been watching other cities burn. And yet, here we are — a fire so massive that it’s being called one of the worst in Israeli history. Entire highways shut, forests blackened, military-grade aircraft scrambling to dump fire retardants over the capital. Israel has now turned to the international community for help — including countries it wouldn’t hesitate to undermine diplomatically in a heartbeat. But desperate times, apparently, call for extinguishers. But the world should be careful sending aid workers to help Israel, since they love shooting aid workers.
Meanwhile, in Gaza — if one can even speak of Gaza without a long pause — there is no global airlift when homes burn. No Spanish or Italian planes circling overhead with relief. There are only charred remains of buildings, families buried in rubble, and children who will never understand what “international assistance” even means. The world is expected to move on from that carnage. To forget it. But fire, it seems, remembers. There is something grimly poetic in a state that has so confidently wielded destruction now scrambling to contain it on its own soil. A nation that has too often viewed Palestinian suffering as collateral now finds itself on the edge of its own catastrophe. And while no human suffering should be cheered — not here, not there — there’s a lesson burning through these forests: fire does not respect borders, propaganda, or impunity.
When you fan the flames for too long, you shouldn’t be shocked when the wind changes.
With inputs from agencies
Image Source: Multiple agencies
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