"The Seven Good Years?" Israel, 1967–1973: The Critical Change

In 1967, I was a young student at The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. By mid-May, following Independence Day, the campus had gradually become deserted. Only women, Arab students, and some older faculty members proceeded to behave under the superficial façade of "classes as usual", while the prevailing atmosphere was tense and fearful. During that short period, which lasted three weeks, in Hebrew referred to as hamtana [waiting], hundreds of thousands of mobilized soldiers in forests and temporary camps awaited an order, prepared to attack the enemy in the name of defense. The home front was anxious but steadfast, despite diminishing faith in the political leaders whose apparent hesitancy generated a gloomier mood with each ensuing day.

The previous year was marked with economic recession and social distress. The prospect of a third war in two decades was yet another source of melancholy. Many felt that the very existence of the state was at stake. Dark humor was a source of comic relief, and comments like "The last one to leave the airport should turn off the lights" became widespread. Indeed, many did leave the country, exacerbating concerns that the young state might well be no more than a fleeting chapter in history.

Prime Minister Levi Eshkol also served as minister of defense, despite his lack of military background. This only caused further damage to his shaky public image. Army officers pressed him to make a decision and essentially forced him to appoint the legendary General Moshe Dayan in his place as minister of defense just days before the onset of the war.

The ambience reeked of lack of vision, a collective sense of a lost way, nurturing sentiments of national depression and uncertainty. That changed abruptly, within hours, on 5 June with what was perceived then as a miracle. Elie Wiesel, who worked as a journalist for the Forverts, Yiddish American paper, wrote:

Future generations will probably never believe it. Teachers will have a hard time convincing their students that what sounds legendary actually occurred … They won't believe that this small state, surrounded by hatred, fire, and murder, had so quickly managed a miracle … In another 2,000 years, people will consider these events the way we think of descriptions of the Maccabees and their victories.

My late father, writer and Holocaust survivor Chaim Lazar, expressed the general feeling in his diary on 7 June:

We are saved! Our fabulous victory can be understood only as a miracle. Six million dead Jews stood before ribono shel olam [master of the world], holding His gown tight and demanding He save His people. They did not let go until our army won the war.

With the victory, over the next five days, ecstasy unraveled into euphoria. It recalled the biblical depiction of creation in six days. It was as though just a few days earlier "The earth was unformed and void and darkness was upon the face of the deep" [Gen. 1:2] and then a voice proclaimed: "Let there be light. And there was light." [Gen. 1:3]

Deep pessimism gave way to high spirits. The tiny state assumed the semblance of an empire; the IDF and its officers became idolized; Jews and gentiles arrived here from all over the world, a world which now admired the young state for its astonishing victory. The economy made a rapid recovery. It was the beginning of a new era. Again, biblical terminology applies—it was the beginning of the "seven good years", and they too, came to an abrupt end with the thrust of a sword on Yom Kippur in 1973.

Living parallel to the results of the Six-Day War and reflecting on the "seven good years" fifty years later raise profound questions. Were we all blind? Were we all to blame, as President Ephraim Katzir declared in 1973? Were those years really as good as represented by the collective national memory? Or could the buds of critical change of Israel actually be traced to as early as the "seventh day"?"

"And on the seventh day God finished His work...