On the eve of Tisha B’Av, Jews in Israel and around the world fast and read the Book of Lamentations. They remember the destruction of the Temples in Jerusalem, the loss of sovereignty, the exile, and the terrible price paid by a people left without the power to defend itself.
For generations, Tisha B’Av was understood primarily as a day of historical remembrance. Since 7 October 2023, however, the ancient words of Lamentations have sounded different in Israel. They no longer describe only a calamity buried in the distant past. They touch a modern and visceral Israeli fear: a breached border, terrorists entering family homes, civilians murdered or abducted, and entire communities turned into killing grounds.
The 7 October attack cannot be equated in historical scale with the destruction of Jerusalem. Israel was not destroyed. It remained a sovereign state with an army, institutions and the capacity to fight back. Yet the attack struck the most exposed nerve in Jewish consciousness: the fear that even after the creation of an independent state, Jews could once again find themselves defenceless inside their own homes.
That is why 7 October is not regarded in Israel as merely another security incident or another round in a prolonged conflict. It is seen as a fundamental breach of the promise on which the state was founded—the promise that Jews would never again be forced to wait helplessly for others to come and rescue them.
When the Home Becomes the Front Line
Indian readers require no explanation of why terrorism deliberately directed at civilians is never merely a local threat. India has itself faced murderous attacks, cross-border infiltration and organisations that turn ordinary citizens into targets in the service of political or religious extremism.
Israel also confronts a distinctive geographical reality. It is a small country in which the distance between a hostile border and a family home may be measured in minutes. When a terrorist organisation arms itself just beyond a fence, digs tunnels, trains assault units and develops rocket capabilities, Israel does not possess the strategic depth to ignore the danger or to wait indefinitely for hostile intentions to become undeniable.
Before 7 October, much of Israel’s strategic thinking rested on the assumption that Hamas had become more pragmatic, that it was increasingly interested in improving economic conditions in Gaza, and that deterrence, technology and civilian concessions could keep it contained. The attack exposed the danger of replacing a sober examination of an enemy’s capabilities with an optimistic interpretation of its intentions.
A terrorist organisation does not cease to be a terrorist organisation merely because it is patient. Sometimes patience is part of the preparation for an attack.
‘Never Again’ Must Become Policy
The words ‘Never Again’ cannot remain a slogan reserved for memorial ceremonies. For Israel, they must be translated into practical policy built on clear principles.
The first is intelligence humility. A security establishment must never become so attached to its own assessments that it assumes the enemy thinks as it does. Information that contradicts the prevailing doctrine is not necessarily noise to be dismissed; it may be the most important warning of all. Israel must strengthen human intelligence, encourage institutional challenge to accepted assumptions, and ensure that dissenting assessments reach senior decision-makers rather than being filtered out.
The second principle is defence that does not depend on technology alone. Fences, cameras, sensors and artificial intelligence systems are indispensable tools, but they cannot replace a credible military presence, available response forces, functioning command structures and prepared local communities. Technology should support human judgement and readiness, not create the illusion that they can be dispensed with.
The third principle is the denial of terrorist organisations’ operational capacity. It is not enough to punish attackers after a massacre has occurred. The purpose of a responsible security policy is to prevent a terrorist group from rebuilding an army beside the border, stockpiling rockets, constructing underground infrastructure and preparing assault forces for another raid on civilian communities.
From the Israeli perspective, no state can accept a reality in which territory immediately beyond its border serves as a permanent base for preparing the next massacre. Waiting passively until an attack is launched is not always restraint; at times, it is abandonment.
Military determination, however, is not a licence to disregard international law or the obligation to reduce harm to civilians who are not involved in hostilities. The strength of a democracy is also measured by the manner in which it uses force. Yet the moral duty to protect Israeli citizens does not disappear because the battlefield is difficult, and there can be no moral equivalence between those who deliberately target civilians and a state acting to defend them from terrorism.
Security Is More Than an Army
The lesson of 7 October is not military alone. National security may begin at the border, but it extends into hospitals, emergency services, local authorities, fire and rescue units, resilience centres and the communities themselves.
A secure state must ensure that a citizen in danger receives a rapid response; that border communities are equipped and trained; that communication systems continue to function under attack; and that victims of trauma receive care long after the headlines have moved on.
Israelis do not demand a life without risk—such a promise would be impossible in the Middle East. They demand the assurance that their state is prepared, that it does not ignore warnings, that it does not grow accustomed to threats, and that when danger emerges every relevant institution will move quickly to protect them.
This is the most basic contract between a state and its citizens.
Accountability Is Not Weakness
The struggle against terrorism also requires an honest internal reckoning. Israel must examine courageously how the failure occurred, who took the critical decisions, which warnings were overlooked, and why systems designed to protect civilians collapsed during the decisive hours.
A demand for investigation and accountability does not weaken the army or the state. On the contrary, it is a condition for restoring public trust. An institution that cannot acknowledge its failures will struggle to prevent their repetition.
Tisha B’Av adds another dimension to this debate. Jewish tradition associates the destruction of the Second Temple not only with external enemies but also with sinat chinam—baseless hatred and deep internal division that weakened society from within. That lesson is especially relevant to Israel after 7 October.
Unity does not mean silencing criticism, eliminating disagreement or granting immunity to leaders. It means retaining the ability to argue fiercely while still recognising that the defence of the country must come before partisan, personal or sectoral interests.
Israel’s enemies do not assess only the number of its aircraft, tanks or missile-defence systems. They also measure the cohesion of its society, the confidence citizens place in national institutions, and their willingness to stand beside one another in an emergency.
Not a Cult of War, but the Responsibility of Sovereignty
Some observers interpret Israel’s response to 7 October as an expression of militarism or a desire for permanent war. This is a serious misreading of Israeli society.
Most Israelis do not wish to live by the sword. They want to raise families, build businesses, create technology, deepen relations with other countries and live in peace with their neighbours. History, however, has taught them that peace not backed by the ability to defend it can quickly become a dangerous illusion.
A state confident in its capacity to protect its citizens can afford to take risks for peace. A state that fears at every moment an infiltration, an abduction or a missile attack is condemned to live in a permanent state of emergency.
Preventing the next 7 October is therefore not only a military objective. It is a precondition for political stability, economic growth, restored public confidence and any future possibility of a durable regional settlement.
Between Remembrance and Responsibility
Tisha B’Av is not only a day on which the Jewish people mourn what was lost. It is also a day on which they ask how destruction became possible and what must be learned from it.
Its lesson is not that Jews are destined to remain eternal victims. The lesson is that the loss of sovereignty, internal disunity and the inability to protect the national home can exact a price that lasts for generations.
The events of 7 October brought that lesson out of history and into the present. They reminded Israelis that the existence of a state does not, by itself, guarantee security. A state must justify its existence every day through preparedness, accountability, social cohesion and the capacity to act.
For two thousand years, Jews prayed to return to Jerusalem and to live once more as a free people in their own land. Now that a sovereign Jewish state exists, its responsibility is unmistakable: to ensure that no Israeli family is ever again trapped inside its home, waiting for hours to be rescued while terrorists move outside the door.
For Israel, a determined war against terrorism is not an act of revenge. It is the duty of sovereignty.
Remembrance without action is a ceremony. Remembrance that produces responsibility, reform and resolve becomes a foundation for survival.
That is perhaps the deepest connection between Tisha B’Av and 7 October: the Jewish people remember destruction not in order to remain imprisoned by the past, but to ensure that they never again lose the ability to defend their home.