I'm wondering who won the war...

I'm stopped for coffee in Nachalat Binyamin, this pedestrian mall full of crafts and fabric stores (and cafes) at 2:30 on a Monday (which is like a Tuesday in Israel). There are a few pairs of older women and a French family sitting quietly, the waitress and the owner are scooping condiments into serving dishes, and there is a well-groomed dog loyally curled up asleep on the floor next to the rumbling cooler.

I'm wondering who won the war.

Israeli self-confidence has been jolted, people seem resigned to an anxiety, one that has managed to suffuse the normally manic streets here. People are less hasty and pushy than normal, there is this overarching malaise in the air. The papers are making bold claims and sweeping criticisms of the government's handling of the crisis.

In that way, Israel has won the war because it's being honest with itself, the people are allowed to criticize its government and the direction of the country. Self-improvement and accountability are at least feasible concepts. In Lebanon, people do not have the freedom to really blame Hezbollah for its provocations, or the Lebanese government for being weak, or Syria or Iran for making Lebanon its anti-Western, political lab rat...they can only blame Israel. And Israel can only blame Israel (for its tactics and responses), pointing fingers at other countries is like blaming the wind for knocking down your house.

And that type of answer does not satisfy. But it's about the same one that anyone else has. No land has been lost, the civilian losses were limited, there are some bruises and contusions in the north...people are most distraught about the soldiers.

Everyone I've met knows a soldier (or knows someone who knows a soldier) who was killed in this conflict. It's very surreal. This is a small country, the communities are very tightly knit and the Israeli boys making their rite of passage into the army are the crown jewels of their communities.

There's very little to say on days like today. (Obviously I manage) Tomorrow, I head to Jerusalem, but for today, I went to Independence Hall in Tel Aviv where the Declaration of Independence was signed.

It's a small cobwebbed building that inspires a modest patriotism; you sit in this small room probably the size of the Oval Office (except it's rectangular) and wonder how people, so few people, would decide to be heroic enough to actually sign a document that the world endorsed but their neighbors would never accept. You wonder why they keep signing documents that all their neighbors will never accept.
Is the heroism in having that faith?

It's a very benevolent document, seemingly academic, discussing cultural exchange and historical perspective and peace. It has no provisions about how to determine the winner of the future wars.

I begin to wonder if there is any way that being heroic could still resemble what it seemed to mean all those years ago. It's like it all died in 1973. It's like it died with disco.