TEL AVIV, Israel — We were woken just after 8 a.m. by a siren, followed within minutes by the notification that there were in fact no incoming missiles. It appeared the government had decided to use the alert system as a kind of national alarm clock, to let the country know that the war had begun. For the second time in nine months, Israel had attacked Iran. This time it was in coordination with the United States.

Within the hour we had already been sent to the shelter by an actual missile alert. By midday, we would make that trip five times. The country, as far as one can tell from the stairwells and the WhatsApp groups, is stoic. Irritated, tired, but stoic. This is absurd, people say, but they lace up their shoes and head downstairs anyway. Or to the reinforced safe rooms that the lucky few have.

The arguments for this round of conflict are not, on the surface, overwhelming. After the 12-day war in June, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu declared that Iran’s nuclear and ballistic missile programs had been set back for many years, that the major threat to Israel’s existence had been removed. President Donald Trump, after American B-2 bombers joined on the final day, spoke repeatedly of the nuclear threat being “obliterated” at Fordo, Natanz and Isfahan. He bristled at intelligence assessments suggesting otherwise.

There has been little public evidence that Iran rebuilt that threat in the interim. Netanyahu said around midday Saturday in a recorded radio address that Iran’s new capabilities were being placed underground. Trump, meanwhile, demanded that Iran forswear nuclear weapons; but Tehran has long said it does not seek them, even as it enriched uranium to levels with no civilian justification. No one believes them. But they have been saying it.

In the shelter, I had time to contemplate all this with the same cast of neighbors I got to know rather well in June.

The divorced lawyer and her boyfriend. The mathematics divorcee with her enormous dog, which takes up the space of two folding chairs. The sweet elderly couple who sit holding hands, as if the room were a train platform and they might be separated. The religious French family from upstairs preparing to celebrate a son’s 18th birthday; the mother, improbably, in her finest dress at 9 in the morning. Everyone bleary-eyed. Everyone attempting humor. Some trepidation, but not much.

At one point a commotion erupted. Someone had noticed that a shop in the building had installed an air-conditioning unit in such a way that it partially blocked the emergency exit from the underground shelter. The prospect of being herded underground because of missiles while potentially trapped was not exactly welcome. My wife calmly announced she would deal with the management company first thing Sunday morning. I know her. She will.

It is in rooms like that that the big questions feel both distant and unavoidable. Why now? If the programs were truly crippled in June, what has changed? One possible answer lies not in centrifuges but in politics.

Trump had boxed himself in last month when he told Iranian protesters that “help is on its way.” Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, took him at his word and were killed by the regime’s goons. Trump took heat for having encouraged them and then done nothing. He looked ridiculous, and — to paraphrase The Godfather — a man in his position cannot afford to look ridiculous.

In the interim, the U.S. steadily built up an armada in the region. Ships and planes accumulated in a way that was slow, but deliberate and ultimately overwhelming. It began to look like the kind of force that was not likely to go unused.

The more reasonable argument for assuming the risks of war — casualties, disruption in the oil markets, escalation and so on — is regime change. That idea has a grim history. It rarely works as intended. It is unpredictable, destabilizing, morally fraught. The record in the Middle East is not encouraging. The legal right to do it is debatable at best.

But there are exceptions, and the Islamic Republic, in its 47 years, has made a compelling case for being one.

Its internal repression is ferocious. Protesters are shot or imprisoned in numbers that make gradual reform a fantasy. Short of a palace coup, the Iranian people have little chance of dislodging their rulers on their own.

Moreover, Iran has destabilized the region for decades through proxy militias trying to spread jihadism: Hezbollah in Lebanon, the Houthis in Yemen, Shiite militias in Iraq, Palestinian Islamic Jihad and Hamas. Hezbollah helped prop up Bashar al-Assad’s regime in Syria. Hamas’s Oct. 7 attack ignited a war that left tens of thousands dead in Gaza and over a thousand murdered in Israel. Not every evil in the region can be laid at Iran’s door, but a significant share can, and much of it has victimized fellow Muslims.

There is a wide consensus in Israel that the Iranian regime is a menace. Many Israelis believe that if it fell, it would be good for Israel and good for the Iranian people. They harbor a romantic notion that a democratic Iran would become a partner, even an ally, and that ordinary Iranians would thank Israel for helping to bring about that outcome. Whether that is naive is another matter, but the distinction between regime and people is real in the Israeli mind.

And in what was perhaps the only surprise of the day — for the attack itself was widely telegraphed — Trump set regime change as the true aim of the operation in his comments announcing the strikes. In his characteristic rambling, self-congratulatory style, he urged Iranians to take over their government — and catalogued the crimes of the regime, going all the way back to the 1979-80 hostage crisis at the U.S. embassy in Tehran.

This from a man whose National Security Strategy, released in December, downplayed democracy promotion, and who has shown little affection for liberal norms at home or abroad. Many assumed he wanted only some agreement he could spin as a win — yet he instead seems intent on transforming Iran.

Might regime change actually work? Without a ground invasion — which is neither contemplated nor remotely plausible — the odds seem low. Authoritarian systems are designed precisely to absorb shocks. Enough of the regime would have to be symbolically and practically shattered — key figures eliminated, command centers wrecked, the aura of invulnerability broken — that mass protests resume at a scale the authorities cannot contain.

The calculation appears to be that sustained external pressure, combined with visible regime weakness, could tip internal dynamics. A military already stretched by external attack might find itself unable, or unwilling, to suppress millions in the streets. What follows would not be a popular revolution in the romantic sense but something closer to a palace coup: factions within the system deciding survival requires abandoning the clerical leadership.

Trump’s rhetoric suggested precisely this. His call for the Revolutionary Guard to stand down, coupled with promises of amnesty, is an attempt to split the regime from within, to persuade those with guns that their future lies in defecting rather than fighting. It could work — because that is how hated the regime actually is.

It would have been better for any such action to have gotten the green light from the United Nations Security Council. But — even beyond Trump’s disrespect for the organization — that body is paralyzed by the veto power of Russia, Iran’s sometimes ally.

Moreover, all of this would be easier to deal with if the leaderships in Israel and the U.S. were trusted at anywhere near a normal level. But we are dealing with Trump and Netanyahu.

Trump, it need hardly even be said, has made dishonesty a kind of performance art. He is the most determined dissembler to ever hold the American presidency, as far as I can tell. It has become something of a joke, in America and across the world. In a moment like this, it is not a joke. So in a crisis that could reshape the region, there is no reliable way to know if his claims are true.

Something even worse can be said of Netanyahu, who is on trial for bribery and trailing badly in the polls ahead of elections that must be held by October and could come sooner. It is axiomatic for many Israelis that he would do anything to cling to power, including starting another war.

So these two men, each viewed by large portions of their publics as self-interested and manipulative, now preside over a conflict that could be ruinous.

And yet there is another astonishing layer. Trump, who has damaged the standing of the U.S., abandoned Ukraine, expressed admiration for Russian President Vladimir Putin and rattled NATO with talk of seizing Greenland from Denmark, may be on the verge of a historic achievement. If the Iranian regime were to fall with American assistance, it would rank among the most consequential geopolitical events of the past half-century, perhaps second only to the collapse of Soviet communism. Oddly, I am old enough to have witnessed that as well, as a correspondent for the Associated Press.

Back in the shelter, there is a massive improvement relative to June: Wi-Fi has been installed, thanks to my tireless wife. The dog is still panting, the elderly couple still holds hands, the air-conditioning unit still blocks the exit, the French mother is now checking her phone between sirens.

It is possible to feel two contradictory things at once. This might be a reckless, perhaps even insane action launched by unworthy leaders. And it might, just possibly, change everything for the better.

The post Israel and US go for regime change in Iran, with leaders few trust appeared first on The Forward.

In amateur video footage circulated across Israeli social media in recent weeks, a disturbing scene unfolds. A young man in his mid-twenties, wearing a military-style jacket, looms over a silver car in the heart of Tel Aviv. Inside the vehicle sits an 89-year-old man, mouth agape, expression frozen.

“Dictator! Khamenei!” the young man shouts, his voice sharp, emotional and aggressive.

The young man was Mordechai David, a provocateur who has been documented in a series of confrontations with public figures, journalists and protesters, adopting a style built on creating moments designed for virality. The elderly passenger was former Supreme Court president Aharon Barak — the man whom Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s propaganda machine has painted as a demon, blamed for building, during his tenure in the 1990s, an allegedly over-independent judiciary that supposedly obstructs “governance” by a government eager for unrestrained power.

David, raised in Bnei Brak as the son of a convert to religious life, has become something of a celebrity. His past includes multiple criminal highlights. Blocking Barak’s car may have marked his peak. In a subsequent social-media video, David “apologized” for not blocking Barak’s vehicle “more.”

Two different visions of Israel

David’s stunt is one of several intertwined recent stories in Israel that, between them, outline the contours of a deeper struggle over the character of its society. It is a clash between two fundamentally different visions for the country. And Israel’s fate hangs in the balance.

David’s is a political culture where perpetual confrontation and boundary-breaking increasingly define public behavior. On the other side sits Lucy Aharish, a 44-year-old journalist who grew up in Dimona.

Aharish studied political science at the Hebrew University, and over the years has worked at a variety of radio and TV stations in Israel, including I24News in English, a channel on which I also frequently appear. Today, she hosts a current affairs program. The mother of a little boy, she is also a fierce opponent of Netanyahu and his circle.

That has attracted the ire of the Netanyahu machine’s street rabble. This week, Mordechai David arrived at her doorstep with a megaphone. According to reports, David and one of his followers managed to enter her building — and at the entrance, a tense confrontation unfolded.

This requires the introduction of another character: Tsahi Halevi, 50, an artist of unusual charisma. He is a singer and highly accomplished actor who portrayed Naor in the internationally acclaimed series Fauda, a character admired for intelligence, composure and moral clarity.

In a twist that could only occur in Israel, Halevi also partly plays himself. The son of a Mossad officer, he, like Naor, served as an officer in an elite undercover unit. On Oct. 7, 2023, he volunteered for reserve duty and rushed to the scenes of devastation, where he helped save many lives.

Matan Gendelman, a survivor of the Kfar Aza massacre, recently recounted in Israeli media that Halevi helped rescue her trapped family members after being directed to the scene by his wife, who received the family’s location through social media.

His wife is Lucy Aharish. “Pure gold, the salt of the earth,” Gendelman said of the couple.

The likes of David would vehemently disagree.

Why? Because Aharish, in addition to being a Netanyahu critic, is a member of Israel’s Arab minority. And because Aharish and Halevi are a mixed couple, the hostility against them burns even more intensely.

Back at their house, there was a scent of violence in the air as the decorated officer and provocateur traded barbs.

“You come to my home?” Halevi challenged; “I feel like protesting against your wife!” David replied. “How far do you want this to go?” Halevi asked, menacingly, as police separated the two. The police dragged David away, but he ensured himself another viral success; his future may hold a respectable place on the Likud list for the Knesset.

‘The affliction of Israeli society’

Aharish chose to respond on television. “Bullying — this is the affliction of Israeli society,” she said. “It is escalating. We see it in the streets, on the roads, in public discourse — and now it has reached my own doorstep.”

Worse, she added, “The spirit of this government is a bad spirit that encourages bullies. I will not bow my head before these inciters.” She also addressed Netanyahu directly: “This is precisely your way, Mr. Prime Minister — not to see, not to hear, not to know what is happening under your nose. … One day, these bullies will reach your doorstep as well.”

In the vision of Israel embodied by Aharish and Halevi, with their impassioned but civil approach, even the most fierce political disagreement remains bounded by restraint. An important distinction is drawn between rival and enemy.

In that advanced by David, those boundaries erode. Confrontation becomes personal. Intimidation is standard.

The first vision leads to an Israel that strives for peace within itself and with its neighbors, and remains a prosperous liberal democracy grounded in basic rights and openness to the world. The second leads to an unstable, isolated and increasingly theocratic state, which will be in constant conflict with its neighbors, and from which the most productive citizens will steadily depart. In short order it will be unrecognizable, and nothing will be left of “Start-Up Nation.”

The 2026 elections, which must be held by October, will not merely determine a government. They may decide with finality which of these two Israels prevails. And after four years of trauma under Netanyahu’s far-right government, there is urgency in the air.

The post In a viral social media showdown, a glimpse of the real Israel appeared first on The Forward.

Casey Means, President Trump’s nominee for U.S. surgeon general, preaches a broad, loosely-defined spirituality that blends ideas such as the “divine feminine,” meditation, and connection with nature. In her email newsletter, she has endorsed practices such as full moon rituals and talking to trees. And, though she was raised Roman Catholic, she has expressed interest in kabbalah, the ancient Jewish mystical tradition focused on esoteric interpretations of scripture and the nature of the soul, the cosmos, and the divine.

In May 2025, she wrote about drawing inspiration from Kabbalah teacher and influencer David Ghiyam to help deal with those who judge her for taking breaks from work to rest and recover during certain phases of the lunar cycle, which she views as essential to “feminine creativity.” She directed her readers to follow Ghiyam “for a daily dose of inspiring Kabbalah wisdom.”

Cathy Heller, a Jewish wellness influencer who preaches mindfulness and manifestation drawing on her studies of Jewish mysticism with rabbis in Israel, told the Forward in a phone interview that Means is a close friend — and often asks her to share wisdom about the Torah and kabbalah.

“She loves it,” Heller said. “She sees such beauty and wisdom in this body of work, and how universal it is and how applicable it is.”

Means’ interest in mysticism expands well beyond kabbalah. In Good Energy, a book she co-wrote with her brother, Calley Means, who works as a senior advisor to Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., she quotes Rumi, an influential figure in Sufism — the mystical dimension of Islam — and encourages her readers to practice yoga, tai chi, or qigong, try aromatherapy, and consider taking psychedelics. She has also opposed bans on raw milk despite the risk of serious bacterial infections, said more research is needed on a possible link between vaccines and autism, and criticized hormonal contraception as reflecting a “disrespect of life.”

Means’ interest in Kabbalah seems to reflect less a desire to engage in Jewish religious observance than a core belief of the Make America Healthy Again movement: that physical ailments often have underlying spiritual causes, and that tapping into the mind-body connection has the power to heal. Her promotion of kabbalah also represents the further mainstreaming of an ancient practice once reserved for only the most learned of Jewish scholars — repackaged for non-Jewish audiences and finding its way into spaces as unlikely as the U.S. Public Health Service.

“The idea that it’s controversial that we should BOTH trust unbiased scientific information AND our divine intuition is a sign of darkness in our culture,” Means wrote in November 2024.

‘A manifester’

Heller met Means in 2024 through a mutual friend in Los Angeles who hosts sound baths and other wellness events. They now take long walks and hikes together, share meals, and have celebrated several Shabbat dinners.

On one hike in Los Angeles, they came across a rabbi, and Heller says she asked him to offer a teaching. He shared an explanation of why Jacob’s name derives from the Hebrew root for “heel,” saying that Jacob had the capacity to draw the highest consciousness down into the lowest places.

Means “was literally beaming from ear to ear. We both had tears in our eyes,” Heller recalled. “I said, ‘What’s your name?’ And he said, ‘Rabbi Heller,’ which is funny because that’s my last name. And Casey’s like, ‘You’re such a manifester, that’s crazy.’”

In November 2024, Means promoted Heller’s book, Abundant Ever After: Tools for Creating a Life of Prosperity and Ease on her blog.

“Cathy is a goddess friend and her message resonates with me profoundly about how to live a limitless and spiritual life. Abundant Ever After is a transformative guide blending Jewish mysticism, meditation, and practical tools,” Means wrote. “Manifestation is real. Why wouldn’t we want to learn?”

One month later, Means appeared on Heller’s podcast, “Everything is Energy with Cathy Heller,” where she said that meeting Heller felt like “divine timing” and that their relationship was helping her make sense of concepts from Good Energy, including her belief that everything is interconnected.

“This idea that we’re oneness and everything is connected, it’s not a metaphor. It’s not hippie,” Means said on the podcast. “It’s literally truth on the physical, chemical level. And it’s so absent from our paradigm of healing.”

MAHA and religion

Adrienne Krone, a professor at Allegheny University and author of Free-Range Religion: Alternative Food Movements and Religious Life in the United States, sees a direct connection between the MAHA movement and religious ways of thinking about food, health and the body.

She said that the internet has accelerated a broader shift in wellness culture and its relationship to spirituality. On social media, mystical teachings can often be mistranslated and blended together, she said, sometimes losing their original cultural context.

“Some of what’s going on is people are picking up other religious ideas, other secular ideas, scientific research, and they bring it all together,” Krone said. “That’s what forms their understanding of what they’re supposed to eat, how they’re supposed to treat their bodies, what kinds of extra exercise regimens they should be doing. And so it doesn’t surprise me that Casey Means has this kind of collection of ideas that are more accessible than they used to be.”

Still, Means’ spirituality seems to be an outlier among the traditional Christian conservative worldview touted by most of Trump’s other nominees. Her calls to “EMBRACE THE ‘WOO WOO’” and engage in various spiritual ceremonies have drawn the ire of some activists, including conservative talk radio host Erick Erickson, who critiqued Means as “a near Wiccan” who has “dabbled in occult practices that amount to witchcraft.”

Two Republican senators, Susan Collins of Maine and Lisa Murkowski of Alaska, have not yet committed to vote “yes” on Means’ confirmation, and pressed Means at her confirmation hearing about her stance on vaccines and past use of psychedelic mushrooms.

If confirmed as the nation’s top doctor, Means has signaled that spirituality will play a significant role in how she approaches the position.

“I do believe that Americans are ready to hear about spirituality when it pertains to medicine,” Means said at her confirmation hearing.

The post Trump’s pick for surgeon general gets her ‘daily dose of inspiring Kabbalah wisdom’ appeared first on The Forward.