Lebanon's Hezbollah leader Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah addresses his supporters through a screen during a rally commemorating the annual Hezbollah Martyrs' Day, in Beirut's southern suburbs, Lebanon November 11, 2023. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Rolling into Kiryat Shmona, you can’t help but feel the tension that’s in the air. The streets are practically empty. The IDF soldiers stationed there can’t help but glance up at the sky every now and then. The few citizens who remain step past rocket debris without giving it a second thought.
While so much attention has been paid to Israel’s border with Gaza, the situation in the north with Lebanon, specifically Hezbollah, is without question growing more significant by the day.
Just Tuesday, an explosion in a suburb just outside of Beirut killed a senior Hamas official. While the Israelis haven’t come out publicly to say they were responsible, both Hezbollah and Hamas have pointed the finger squarely at the Israelis. Hassan Nasrallah, leader of Hezbollah, called it a “flagrant Israeli aggression” in his highly anticipated speech Wednesday.
“If Israel expands its attacks…all our power will be used to attack Israel; we do not fear the war, and we are not hesitant about it; otherwise, we would have stopped fighting on the southern front,” Nasrallah said, going on to issue a stern warning to Israel and Western allies to back down.
The IDF has been hitting parts of Southern Lebanon with air strikes this week in response to multiple attacks from Hezbollah’s forces. Rocket attacks and drone incursions are normal.
“We play kind of a chicken game. They hit us, we hit them back,” Ofir Yehezkali, Deputy Mayor of Kiryat Shmona, told our NewsNation team. “Of course we are worried because we decided two months ago to evacuate the city.”
Thousands fled the north and are currently in Central Israeli strongholds such as Tel Aviv. That alone is significant. I won’t pretend to be an expert on Middle Eastern history, but tensions at the Israeli-Lebanese border have been ongoing for decades. At this particular juncture, however, people feel the situation is different.
“It’s empty. Nobody is in my village now. All the people (left),” Simon Peretz, a local resident told us. “We are here in the north very afraid of the situation…if Hezbollah wants to come inside to kill us.”
The IDF’s leadership is making it a point to say this week that they are on high alert.
“Based on my impressions, we are in a very high state of readiness in the North,” said Chief of the General Staff Herzi Halevi. “I visit here often. I think our readiness is at its peak.”
One day in the north shows it’s more than just posturing and readying. Every few minutes you can hear the sound of Israeli artillery firing or fighter jets flying overhead.
Kiryat Shmona is tucked away in the hills of northern Israel and is home to some of the country’s most beautiful scenery. That’s why Peretz lives there, but the city is less than two miles from Lebanese soil.
“A quiet situation can be changed in one minute,” said Peretz. “If we give them the first chance to kill us, they do it.”
As my colleague Leland Vittert opined in his latest edition of War Notes (which I highly recommend you subscribe to), he believes Israel’s fierce hitting back in the north is an attempt to provoke Hezbollah into a war.
“Hezbollah’s arsenal of highly sophisticated and guided missiles (rather than Hamas’ dumb rockets) puts Israeli critical infrastructure at risk. It would be better to have the fight now on Israel’s terms than when Iran orders Hezbollah to launch a surprise attack,” Vittert wrote.
Peretz’ perspective falls in line with the notion that the time may be now to act.
“You need to speak with (Hezbollah) only by power. A lot of power,” Peretz said, smashing his fist into his hand. “A lot of power, they respect you. If you come saying you want to make peace, they come on you and want to kill you. From now on, we don’t (make) peace with them. No Hezbollah. No Hamas. Nothing. We want to destroy them.”
Yehezkali shares the sentiment that peace can only come through strength.
“And maybe one day there will be peace, and we will go by train from here to Beirut and to Damascus, and we will go to eat some hummus and everybody will be together,” Yehezkali chuckled, before conceding to his pipe dream. “I don’t think it will happen.”
Maybe. Maybe not. One can only hope.
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