Throughout Jewish history, whenever we reached a dead end, an ancient reminder hovered above us: It was not our external enemies who destroyed us, but the hatred within. That was the case at the destruction of the Second Temple, and it often seems to reflect today’s Israeli reality as well.
After October 7, 2023, it appeared that the people of Israel were once again uniting in the face of the worst horrors since the Holocaust. Yet, that sense of unity faded far too quickly, and the internal rift returned to our lives.
Israel in 2025 is a remarkable social mosaic, yet also more fragile than ever. The fracture is cultural, political, religious, economic, and emotional. We live together, but the divides between Right and Left, secular and religious, center of the country and periphery, and Jews and Arabs have long since become chasms. Each camp is certain that it alone holds the truth, that any criticism is betrayal, that compromise is capitulation.
Social media only pours fuel on the fire. Algorithms radicalize, conversations heat up, and the ability to conduct rational debate nearly disappears. We live in an era where anger is the central accelerant, and resentment thrives on both the Right and the Left. Instead of discourse, we see hatred; instead of debate, we see emotional outbursts; instead of responsibility, we see mutual blame.
Historians point to several core factors that led to the destruction of the Second Temple: fraternal hatred, unchecked zealotry, and internal wars – both on the political Right and Left. When we examine today’s Israeli reality, troubling similarities emerge: religious extremism, intensifying political divisions, and a growing sense that each group views the other as a threat to its existence.
Groups across society accuse one another of betrayal, immorality, and harming the state.
Destruction didn't happen in a single day. It was a process – one in which Jewish society lost the ability to see itself as one people. Today, sadly, we are not immune to a similar danger.
The horrific October 7 massacre shook Israeli society and brought it back to a place where even those who had clashed for years found themselves embracing and uniting. In the streets and on army bases, in kibbutzim and in cities, we once again felt like one nation.
As time passed and the war dragged on, the internal discourse reignited. Bereaved families felt their struggle was turning into a political tool. Political actors again used a national tragedy to fortify their camps, and public dialogue – something that could have been a source of strength – once again became a battlefield where each side feared appearing to concede.
Another deep and troubling divide is the generational divide. The older generation, which lived through previous wars and eras of full civilian mobilization, struggles to understand a younger generation that lives in a global world – more connected to TikTok than to tradition – where Israeli-Jewish identity is far more fragile.
Many have lost trust in state institutions, in the legal system, and at times even in the sense of shared fate. Alongside security and economic crises, tensions now cut across families, workplaces and entire communities.
One of the most dangerous consequences of a fractured society is the loss of trust. Without trust, there is no strong army, no stable government and no ability to confront external enemies.
Iran, Hezbollah and Hamas do not wait for military opportunities alone. They watch Israel’s internal divides and understand that our real weakness is not in our weapons systems, but in our relationships with one another. They know that if Israeli society is consumed with itself and crumbling from within, it becomes easier to strike us. Internal fracture is an invitation to our enemies.
In recent years – on the Right and the Left alike – Israeli politics has become a continuous arena of personal power struggles, long before ideology. All sides, without exception, have contributed to toxic rhetoric. When leaders choose ratings over responsibility, and division over social reconciliation, the entire nation pays the price.
This is not a prophetic warning or an apocalyptic statement. Israel is strong, independent, creative, and capable of defeating any enemy. But Jewish history teaches us that when we lost solidarity, we lost everything.
The question is not whether our enemies can overpower us.
The question is whether we are willing to seal the cracks before they become abysses.
The danger of a “third destruction” will not arrive in a sudden blow. It would begin, heaven forbid, from within – from deepening division, eroding trust, and a modern form of baseless hatred, fueled by social media that ignites flames over the smallest disagreement.
Every legitimate article in the media now triggers countless reader comments entirely unrelated to the subject. The coarse and vulgar tone often reveals more about the commenter than about the issue.
But we can still choose differently.
We can still remember that unity is not uniformity, and that disagreement is part of democracy and does not have to be war.
The State of Israel was founded despite disagreements and political disputes. We knew how to be a loud, challenging family – but a family nonetheless.
The defining question of the coming years is whether we can once again be one people, or whether we will continue drifting apart – until no one can piece the fragments back together.
The choice is still in our hands.
The writer is CEO of Radio Radius 100FM, an honorary consul and deputy dean of the Consular Corps, and president of the Israel Radio Communications Association. He previously served as an IDF Radio monitor and NBC television correspondent.