Humanity Is the One Thing War Can’t Take: Life in Israel During the Iran War

My name is Lucy, and I’ve been living in Israel for the past four and a half years. I work as a full-time scriptwriter for Builders of the Middle East, where I write content that amplifies the voices of real people across the region, especially those living in some of its most complex and conflicted areas.

A lot of people saw this war as an inevitability: the military buildup in the region, the dwindling negotiations, the persistent media speculation. The fog of war had been lingering since 2023 and had truly taken its toll, yet we were acutely aware of the likelihood of further escalation.

Despite our preparedness, the deafening sound of that first siren is enough to send anyone into fight-or-flight mode. It is a sound I have heard countless times before, but my heart never ceases to skip a beat. My body instinctively moves to the shelter before my brain has the chance to catch up. Once the bomb shelter doors close, the only thing that distracts me from the bellowing sound of interceptions overhead are the lighthearted jokes we tell each other to ease the fear.

In the back of my mind, I know that despite the early warning sirens and the vast interception capabilities, missiles still find their way through. In those moments, all I can do is hope that this steel door and reinforced concrete are enough to keep me alive.

During the twelve-day war with Iran in June, my apartment was torn apart by an Iranian missile. It was only by chance that I wasn’t there when it happened, but it was a stark reminder that no one is immune to the worst-case scenario. In the aftermath of that terrifying incident, all I felt was incredibly lucky not to have been there when it happened. Lucky is a funny word to use in this context, but bear with me. I feel lucky because I know not everyone has access to a shelter. Not everyone has early-warning sirens, and not all countries are prepared to defend themselves against attacks.

In these missile-induced moments, I often think about the people of Iran, of Gaza, and of the Gulf who aren’t protected from rocket attacks. I think about the significant lack of public shelters in Arab areas in Israel, leaving many residents with minimal protection. I think about a world in which no civilian has to live under the barrage of missiles and in the constant shadow of war.

Many might assume that in these moments, hatred is where the mind takes us. After all, it is human nature to want someone to blame. But the opposite is true. We are living in a strange paradox in which the people in countries at war with one another do not hate each other. In fact, they want this to end as quickly as possible so they can finally board that long-forbidden flight from Tel Aviv to Tehran.

It’s abundantly clear to me that even in moments of real danger, it is possible to maintain empathy for civilians on all sides. War isn’t something we can control, but our humanity is, and the choice to preserve it is essential.

— Lucy Johnson