Each year before Independence Day, the Central Bureau of Statistics releases its familiar set of numbers: population, demographics, immigration, and satisfaction levels.
This year’s figures show that Israel’s population grew by 150,000, that 7,000 fewer immigrants arrived than the previous year, and that 91% of Israelis say they are satisfied or very satisfied with their lives.
But those are dry statistics. They say nothing about the kind of year the country actually experienced.
To understand that, it is worth recalling an oft-told story from Israel’s early years. David Ben-Gurion once sent a minister to the United States to drum up support. At a synagogue in New York, someone asked him: “How are things in Israel?”
“In one word,” he replied, “good.”
“And in two words?”
“Not good.”
That answer fit then. It still fits now.
What is “not good” hardly needs elaboration. Turn on the radio or television, and you will see and hear it every morning and evening.
It has now been well over two years since October 7, 2023, a day that shattered assumptions and exposed vulnerabilities we still struggle to comprehend. It is also the event that has shaped everything that followed this past year. Since then, Israel has been at war – first in Gaza, then in Lebanon, and now twice in direct confrontation with Iran.
A year of sirens, safe rooms, and reserve duty
It has been a year of sirens and safe rooms, of long stints of reserve duty, of families stretched to the breaking point. A year of loss, strain, and uncertainty.
But that is only half the story.
Because there is also much that is “good.”
Israel fought on multiple fronts, dealing devastating blows to Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran – actions that will take those enemies years, if not decades, to recover from. It secured the release of the remaining hostages. And it once again demonstrated a capacity for resilience and mobilization that surprised even itself.
We have always lived in that space between miracle and mess. This year, we felt it again and again.
What is often missing in how we process a year like this is perspective.
October 7 was a catastrophe – a horrifying echo of a long and painful Jewish past, a pogrom in modern form. But October 8 was something entirely different. It broke the historical pattern. It was the moment when Jews did not simply absorb the blow and move on, but responded forcefully and decisively.
Be’eri and Kfar Aza are not Kishinev and Odesa. That is a transformation in the Jewish condition that is easy to forget amid the daily headlines.
And that, perhaps, is the broader story of Israel at 78.
Seventy-eight years ago, the country emerged from the shadow of the Holocaust, weak, vulnerable, and uncertain of its future. Today, despite everything, it is a strong, independent state with a tremendous ability to defend itself and the capacity to shape its destiny.
That does not mean everything is good. Far from it. But it does mean that we need to be careful not to lose sight of how far we have come.
Part of the reason we often lose sight of that is the way we process events. Outcomes here are rarely judged on a spectrum. They are seen in absolutes – success or failure, strength or weakness, victory or defeat. Anything that falls short of total resolution is treated with suspicion, if not outright dismissal.
That instinct is understandable. The stakes here are high, and the threats are real. Plus, our leaders often frame things in stark either/or terms. But this tends to distort reality, making it harder to recognize incremental gains or partial achievements when they occur.
Another factor is the country’s deeply ingrained tendency toward self-criticism. Israelis are not known for letting things slide. We examine, dissect, argue, and challenge – often loudly and publicly. That trait can be a source of strength and one secret of success, driving innovation and improvement. But it can also create a sense of perpetual crisis, where every setback is magnified, and every success is qualified.
And yet, if there is one thing this past year has demonstrated, it is the underlying strength of Israeli society.
We saw it on October 7 and in the days that followed, when a deeply divided country came together almost overnight.
On the eve of October 7, Israelis were at each other’s throats over judicial reform. In its immediate aftermath, they were fighting side by side.
Reservists who had threatened not to serve reported for duty in numbers exceeding expectations. Israelis abroad scrambled to return home. Reservists returned to serve again and again, despite the personal cost and despite a return to divisive rhetoric at the national level, because they did not want to let one another down.
That sense of responsibility – not only to the country, but to one another – is one of Israel’s quiet strengths. Another expression of that same national resilience can be seen in places like the Gaza envelope.
On the eve of October 7, some 62,000 people lived there. Today, the number is higher. Most of those who were evacuated have returned, and new families are moving in.
Hamas tried to empty those communities. Instead, they grew.
That is resilience.
And it is a reminder that while the headlines often focus on division, there is a deeper current in Israeli society – one of commitment, solidarity, and determination – that continues to assert itself, especially in times of crisis.
None of this means that the problems are not real. Kiryat Shmona, for example, has not rebounded like Sderot. The dilemmas are serious. The challenges are enormous. The divisions are real. The threats are real.
But so is the larger picture.
After a year like this, it is tempting to focus only on what went wrong, on what remains unresolved, on what still looms ahead. That habit, useful as it often is, can also obscure a fuller picture.
But it is not the whole story.
The other part of the story is that Israel, once again, absorbed a shock that might have broken other societies, fought a multi-front war, adapted, endured, and continued to function – not perfectly, not without cost, but effectively.
If you are looking for a metaphor for the year, consider this: the image of Lior and Michael Marianof refusing to postpone their wedding and instead marrying in an underground parking lot-turned-public bomb shelter in Tel Aviv.
This resilience does not erase the difficulties. It does not resolve the dilemmas. And it certainly does not guarantee what comes next.
But it does say something important about where the country stands as it marks its 78th Independence Day: unbowed, strong, and determined.
Good.
More good than not good.