Sharon Basch is an Israeli American who lived in Israel before starting her JD at the University of Pittsburgh School of Law, where she is currently a 3L.
Familiar blue and white flags flutter from balconies across Tel Aviv today, marking Israel’s 77th Independence Day. The smell of barbecues, a Yom Ha’atzmaut staple, drifts on the spring air. Yet the usual exuberant roar of celebration feels different this year–subdued, punctuated by a collective ache that resonates deep within the national soul. While I had the opportunity to describe this strange atmosphere a year ago, Israel has further delved into deeper unrest.
Israelis have transitioned, as we do every year, from the solemnity of Yom HaZikaron, remembering our fallen soldiers and victims of terror, to the celebration of our existence. But this year, the shift feels incomplete, jarring. It feels impossible to celebrate when 572 days ago, over 1,200 Israelis were murdered in a genocidal bid against Israel. How can Israel celebrate when dozens of our brothers and sisters—sons, daughters, fathers, mothers–remain captive in the darkness of Gaza?
The yellow ribbons, symbols of their plight, are as ubiquitous as the flags. Empty chairs are set at some tables, a stark reminder of those who are not here to celebrate. Their absence hangs heavy over gatherings, a silent question in every conversation: When will they come home? News reports circulate about ongoing, stalled negotiations, about Hamas’s demands for lengthy truces, about the agonizing intelligence assessments suggesting fewer than 24 may still be alive. Hope wars constantly with despair.
This national trauma unfolds against a backdrop of profound internal division and fatigue. Trust in the government, already strained, feels thinner than ever for many. Polls reflect widespread discontent. There’s a persistent, nagging feeling among large parts of the public that political calculations and the survival of the coalition too often overshadow the urgent need for decisive action, whether on the hostage front or addressing the deep fissures within our own society. Debates over the strategic direction of the conflict and the price for securing the hostages’ return continue to divide opinion within Israel.
Debates rage–should we agree to end the war for the hostages? Can we afford not to? Is the current leadership capable of navigating us out of this prolonged crisis? The questions echo in homes, cafes, and online forums, often with more anger than answers. This internal unease is compounded by mounting international pressure, including increased scrutiny regarding compliance with international law during military operations and debates surrounding humanitarian obligations in Gaza, adding another layer of complexity to the national mood.
And so, Israel marks Independence Day 2025 with a strange, conflicted heart. Israelis gather, grill, play familiar songs. We watch the Air Force flyover, a symbol of the strength we desperately need. We celebrate the miracle that is Israel, the nation built from ashes and dreams, flourishing against the odds and against groups who loudly and consistently vow to destroy Israel. There is pride, undeniably. There is resilience—it is etched into our identity.
But the joy is muted, the laughter strained. It feels less like an outburst of pure celebration and more like an act of collective will–a determination to mark our independence, to show our enemies and the world that we endure, even as our hearts break for the hostages and worry about the path ahead.
The prevailing sentiment across Israel on its 77th anniversary is one of resilience mixed with deep sorrow and worry. While pride in the nation’s existence and achievements persists, the celebrations are inextricably linked to the urgent, nationwide demand for the safe return of all hostages from Gaza, a prerequisite, many feel, for any return to normalcy and true national rejoicing.
