If Israelis thought they’d reached peak exhaustion after 600 days of upheaval, the Iranian missile onslaught delivered a fresh wave of dread. With over 400 projectiles turning the skies into a war zone, civilians once again stepped up where their leaders faltered. Volunteers from Brothers and Sisters In Arms quickly transformed the underground parking lot of Tel Aviv’s Dizengoff Center into a makeshift shelter—stocked with tents, mattresses, food, and even entertainment for those lacking secure refuge. Elsewhere, city light rail stations became impromptu nocturnal sanctuaries.
But for every act of civil resilience, the government showcased another failure of leadership:
Communications: Shlomo Karhi, despite receiving prior intelligence about a possible Iranian strike, failed to enforce proper emergency protocols. Although ministry professionals urged telecom companies to prepare, Karhi’s ambitious demand to upgrade all cellular sites with energy backup systems (a ₪450 million project) was shelved. Only ₪40 million was approved—insufficient for a national rollout. Despite public objections, Karhi surrendered to coalition pressure and backed the budget.
Treasury: Bezalel Smotrich’s response to displaced citizens was a one-time payment of ₪500 per person—a move widely derided as insulting. Journalist Liat Ron skewered the gesture, noting the paltry sum barely covers a day’s groceries or a mattress to sleep on among rubble. Adding salt to the wound, municipalities received triple that amount per evacuee—not for housing or aid, but for cleaning streets. “At least asphalt doesn’t complain,” she quipped.
Energy: The Bazan refinery in Haifa took a direct missile hit, killing three and triggering a total facility shutdown. Yet the public heard nothing until Energy Minister Eli Cohen spoke hours later. The only reason the attack became public knowledge was Bazan’s obligation to report major events as a publicly traded company. The silence shocked even security officials, spotlighting a disturbing lack of government transparency.
Transportation: Miri Regev’s “Operation Safe Return” was meant to restore calm. Instead, it unraveled as a confused, sluggish rollout. Her infamous advice to stranded Israelis—“enjoy your time abroad”—sparked public fury and symbolized the government’s tone-deaf approach.
Meanwhile, over 38,000 foreign tourists in Israel were left in limbo, with some crossing into Egypt or Jordan against travel advisories. Starting Friday, Israeli citizens will be allowed to board outbound evacuation flights—but only after securing approval from an Exceptions Committee. That’s right: to leave, you’ll need to prove you’re not just going on a beach break.
This policy stems from revised Home Front Command guidelines. The Transportation Ministry had previously barred passengers from boarding inbound rescue flights, citing security risks. Now, anyone wishing to leave—citizen or tourist—must obtain clearance.
Originally, the ministry considered allowing only foreign passport holders to exit. Legal counsel swiftly overruled this as discriminatory. Now, everyone’s subject to vetting by a committee composed of representatives from key ministries, national emergency bodies, and the immigration authority.
Presiding over this gatekeeping body? None other than Drorit Steinmetz, Netanyahu confidante and Director-General of the Prime Minister’s Office. Steinmetz, who previously approved the Prime Minister’s inflated residence expenses, was appointed without a public tender—fanning concerns of cronyism in a moment that demands trust and clarity.
Foreign nationals face minimal hassle: show a one-way ticket, and you’re good to go. But Israelis must demonstrate urgent necessity for their departure—and will not be permitted to re-enter on future evacuation flights.
The Civilian Headquarters for Open Skies has fired back with legal threats, declaring that no citizen should have to beg for permission to leave their country. The battle for mobility is now as much bureaucratic as it is existential. In this storm, the government remains directionless—and the people, as ever, are left to save themselves.