“We woke on October 7 to sirens,” says one Bedouin doctor from the Soroka Medical Center in Be’er Sheva. “The sirens went on and on, endlessly. I was on duty that day and when I left to go to the hospital, a rocket landed close to my home. There are no protected spaces in the unrecognized villages and most of the homes are made of corrugated time. But I told myself that there was no way I wasn’t going to do my duty. All the time that I was treating injured people, I was worried about my wife and children who stayed at home. It’s nothing new for Bedouin to be killed by missiles.”

And is everyone okay?

“My wife and children are okay, but we had people who were murdered at the party at Re’em and there are dozens of Bedouin among the hostages. Over the past two weeks I have mainly felt suspicion. People are always checking to see if we are loyal enough.”

How does that manifest itself?

“People ask me what our people are saying about the situation and what I have to say. They expect me to repeat the government’s statements. People who I have worked with for years and who should know and trust me. I constantly have to prove that I am not on the other side.”

Maybe it’s just a way of starting a conversation?

“It’s not just a conversation. There’s fear – and it’s understandable – but it is not right that an entire group of people should feel like they are being questioned all the time and made to feel like traitors. Anyone who says that they support Hamas should pay the price, but that’s just a few dozen. It’s a tiny minority. We are 2 million citizens of Israel, so how can you view all of us like that? If there were a more normal government, it would declare that it does not see us as the enemy and does not automatically suspect us all, in order to calm the public. But that isn’t happening.”

Since the outbreak of the war, workplaces that employ Jews and Arabs have been in crisis mode. Tensions and racism that was partially concealed before October 7 have come rushing to the surface. Most of it is related to fear; some stems from old conflicts that were just looking for an excuse to reemerge.

Concerns expressed by some Israelis who saw Arab sanitation workers – or any Arab – taking photographs of their homes was dispelled when it turned out that, in some of the cases, the workers were merely documenting for their employers the work they had done. In other cases, the photographs were taken by officials, such as property assessors, who needed images of a certain building. But when National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir declares that Israel is on the verge of a second Operation Guardian of the Walls – a continuation of the events of May 2021, which included violent clashes in Israel’s mixed Jewish-Arab cities – the message is clear.

Moreover, the directive issued by the State Attorney, whereby anyone who expresses support for or identifies with Hamas will be investigated, arrested and charged, has become something of a witch hunt in some workplaces. As of October 23, the state had filed 17 such indictments. According to a police spokesperson, investigators who monitor social media have looked into 228 reported cases of online incitement and have launched investigations into 109 of these cases. Nine people have been arrested.

Some of the concerns are based on warnings sounded by retired IDF general Yitzhak Brick, who wrote articles predicting a similar scenario to the disaster that unfolded in the Israeli communities adjacent to the Gaza Strip. In those articles, Brick predicted that when war breaks out, Arab citizens of Israel would join forces with those committing the atrocities. At this period of national trauma, those warnings are falling on very fertile ground.

Narmin Saba, the wife of Maccabi Haifa soccer star Dia Saba, published a post on social media in which she wrote that “there are children in Gaza, too, and we have to do everything to make sure that children do not die, there is no difference between [Jewish and Arab] children.” Her post infuriated supporters of the team, who were also angry that the player had not condemned Hamas’ atrocities quickly enough. Yaniv Katan, a former star player for the club, wrote that “we should buy Saba a plane ticket to Turkey or Qatar” and one current player was quoted as saying, “It’s shameful. We thought he was one of us.”

The Sabas were forced to issue a statement saying that they condemn the Hamas attack and that Narmin intended to send a message of peace which had been misunderstood.

Tensions are also high in the construction industry, given that Arab workers who are Israeli citizens – including veteran site managers – were not permitted to travel to building sites during the first two weeks of the war. The situation was not helped by protests by contractors. The return to work this week in the construction center, accompanied by the partial reopening of schools in some areas, led to some parents declaring that they would not send their children to schools situated close to an active building site. In addition, parents demanded that Arab school cleaners only be allowed to enter the premises after the students had gone home, in order to avoid any possible interaction with the children.

Suspicion these days is at an all-time high and many Arab citizens of Israel, who tried to be part of the fragile fabric of coexistence, see how it is being shredded – and doubt whether there is any way back.

“People ask me what our people are saying about the situation and what I have to say. They expect me to repeat the government’s statements. People who I have worked with for years and who should know and trust me"

Hospitals | ‘We Tell the Staff to Suck It Up and Shut Up’

For Israeli hospitals, which were a paradigm of coexistence during the coronavirus pandemic, the situation is more explosive than ever before. Shomrim has written extensively in the past about the problematic relationship between Arab doctors and nurses in the Israeli healthcare system and their Jewish colleagues and patients. The case of Dr. Ahmed Mahajana, a cardiothoracic resident at Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem, who was suspended for allegedly expressing support for a Palestinian terrorist being treated in the hospital before being reinstated after the complaint turned out to be spurious, provided a glimpse of a fragile relationship that has taken a severe battering in the past two weeks.

“We were all in total shock when we arrived at work on Sunday,” says one doctor from a hospital in northern Israel, “and I still felt that if I didn’t start every conversation by saying ‘I condemn [Hamas]’ that people would look at me oddly. This isn’t the time for tolerance or other opinions. I share a room with another Arab doctor. And we talk Arabic between ourselves when there’s only the two of us in the room. Since the war started, I make sure to use sentences in Hebrew when we talk, like ‘What’s up with the lab tests,’ because I can see the glances we get from the team when they walk past our room.”

These are people who have known you for years

“That’s correct. But something has changed. I talk to the volunteers at the hospital, elderly women who have known me for years, and they say that Israel should really stick it to Gaza this time, that it’s a legitimate response – and I don’t argue. But I can’t help wondering what that woman is thinking about me at that moment when she talks like that next to me. She knows that I am an Arab and that it pains me that she wishes us all dead.”

What do you think she’s feeling?

“The truth is that I’m not sure she’s feeling anything.”

Maybe she thought you were on her side?

“You never know who you might encounter who might have a problem with you. I was examining a patient in the emergency room and a relative with a huge gun was standing next to him. And the thought went through my head: What if I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time and I say something in a language that threatens him, or if he sees the name of an Arab woman on my name tag and shoots me. It’s not normal.”

Do you allow yourself to talk about this at work?

“I couldn’t tell them at work that I had a tough night. As one Jewish colleague told me quite openly, ‘I cannot bear to hear any expressions of identification with non-Jewish citizens at the moment.’ And even though I have tenure, I realize that it wouldn’t be hard to fire me if I said that I oppose the killing of innocent people in Gaza – so I shut up.”

Is that excessive? Dr. Nain Abu-Freha, chairman of the Arab Medical Associations in the Negev, believes not. “There is one nurse at Soroka who is on the lookout for comments by Arab physicians on social media. She wrote, ‘I’m on it. I have taken this on as a project. Help me stamp out terror here’ – and people are joining her. That’s why the Arab medical teams are not writing anything on social media. They’re afraid. She’s going years back and finding things that have nothing to do with this war.”

"We even told them that saying that you feel for children in Gaza and Israel is forbidden, because people can be dragged off for questioning in the middle of shifts over nonsense like that"

And how has Soroka’s management responded?

“The management quickly worked to set up a ‘solidarity team’ to think about how to improve relations between Jewish and Arab employees in the short and long term. The nurse I mentioned was put on leave. And so was one senior Arab doctor, who wrote a post about Palestinian on Facebook two years ago. She took a leave because she was afraid that she would be attacked.”

It's not limited to Soroka.

“No. Someone uncovered an Arab resident doctor who wrote ‘Pray for Gaza’ on Facebook and tried to kick at a stink. The hospital wasn’t impressed and told him to keep working as normal.”

What are the Arab employees in the south saying right now?

“They’re not saying anything. One auxiliary worker in one of the hospitals shouted ‘Death to Arabs’ in the corridor and when she saw an Arab doctor said that she wasn’t referring to him. These are hurtful comments that the teams hear every day and we still tell them to suck it up and shut up. We even told them that saying that you feel for children in Gaza and Israel is forbidden, because people can be dragged off for questioning in the middle of shifts over nonsense like that. And people are also asking the same questions that retired generals are asking on television, like what happens next and what good will any of it do. When it comes from an Arab, it’s not taken well.”

A spokesperson for Soroka Medical Center told shomrim that “the hospital’s management thoroughly examines and views with severity any expression of support for terrorism or incitement, just as it does any incident that raises concerns about behavior that could harm the unity of the medical teams.”

“I was examining a patient in the emergency room and a relative with a huge gun was standing next to him. And the thought went through my head: What if I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s not normal”

The Education System | ‘Arab Teachers Will Be Afraid and the Jews Won’t Want Them to Come’

The situation in the education system is no better. Kamal Aggbriyah from Merchavim, the Institute for the Advancement of Shared Citizenship in Israel, is head of Arab teacher integration in Jewish schools. Shomrim spoke to him while he was conducting a course for female teachers. On the agenda was how to deal with the fears that will doubtless be raised when in-school teaching resumes.

"One teacher told me that a Jewish colleague of hers asked if there were any Hamas supporters in her community. She felt as if she were being put to the test"

“They are worried that some teachers will stand at the entrance to the school and tell them not to come in,” says Aggbriyah. “And they are also worried about colleagues and students making racist comments to them in the class or the staffroom. A religious teacher from Umm al-Fahm, who wears a hijab, is worried about the reactions she will encounter on her way to the school where she teaches, which is in the center of the country, so we managed to get her exempted from coming for one week. A lot of teachers say that their students ask them to become friends on social media. That never happened in the past and it does not appear to be innocent. Our impression is that the students want to see what Arab teachers are posting on Facebook.”

So, what do you say to them?

“I tell them that, in any case, it’s not appropriate to accept friend requests from students. I also tell them that if they insist on going onto Facebook, they should do so as viewers only and not write anything, not share anything, not respond to anything – not even click the ‘Like’ button. Because now they are in the crosshairs, so to speak, and there’s an atmosphere of if you’re not with us, you’re against us.”

Did they understand?

“Completely. This is the most extreme thing we’ve ever experienced, even compared to Operations Guardian of the Walls. Most people try to count to 10 or turn a blind eye so that they don’t get into trouble. Arab teachers left the WhatsApp group for kindergarten assistants in Tel Aviv in huge numbers because of the comments their Jewish colleagues made about Gaza. They didn’t respond but they couldn’t stay in the group. Everyone is extremely sensitive right now. One teacher told me that a Jewish colleague of hers asked if there were any Hamas supporters in her community. She was so anxious that it took her several hours to respond. She felt as if she were being put to the test.”

Do Arab teachers like teaching in Jewish schools?

“It isn’t their natural choice, but there’s a surplus of teachers in the Arab sector so some of them end up teaching in Jewish schools – and sometimes wonderful things happen. They become ambassadors for the Arab community among the Jews and vice versa. And when we offer them a job at an Arab school years later, they turn it down.”

Do you think that will change given the current situation?

“I am concerned. This year, there were 207 Arab teachers in Jewish schools but I am not sure that we will have even 20 next year. The teachers will be afraid and the Jews won’t want them to come. One Arab teacher in Jerusalem, who was supposed to start work at a Jewish school after the holidays, got a call telling her that, because the students and the staff don’t know her, it’s no longer relevant. In other words: We don’t need Arabs right now.

“One of the interviews that has caused us a lot of harm was a woman from the Gaza envelope, who postulated that a worker from Gaza who was like a son to them passed information about the family to Hamas. I do not know if that’s true or not, but it made a lot of headlines and created a lot of fear for us.”

Yitzhak Brick predicted that Arabs citizens of Israel would fight against the Jews in a regional war.

“And [former Shin Bet director] Carmi Gillon wrote in his book “Shabak in Shreds” that every time Israel thought that Arab citizens would join the fight against the state – it was wrong. Given the way that they are treated as second-class citizens, Israeli Arabs are too loyal to the state.”

Are people from outside the education system also contacting you?

“Yes. Jewish citizens don’t know what to say to Arab employees at the moment. One high-tech company consulted with me about whether to invite an Arab employee to a team meeting or not. This disaster has affected almost every second household in Israel and they don’t know whether it would be more comfortable to work together in the same space or maybe it would be better to work from home.”

This tension exists everywhere. Even when you take your car to be serviced you notice it.

“I am from Jaffa. I play neighborhood soccer with a mechanic, a sheet-metal worker and a waiter. They all feel like every Arab citizen is having their mouth shut with superglue. The police chief himself said that he would put anyone who expressed solidarity with Hamas on a bus to Gaza.”

How is the Garin Torani in Jaffa behaving at the moment?

“On the second day of the war, they went for a run and shouted out slogans. The police very quickly sent them a message to calm down because it created panic and people were afraid. The youth advancement centers in Jaffa are working very hard with at-risk kids, as part of the lessons learned from Operation Guardians of the Wall. They explain to them the complexities and keep them busy. These are kids who will be in the front line if there is trouble. All it takes is for someone to burn a tire and all hell could break loose.”

And all this at a time when you are already in a complex situation.

“I have two televisions in my house that are turned on 24 hours a day to Channel 12 and Al-Jazeera. I watch both of them simultaneously and they both cause me pain. But most people only look at one screen.”

"A lot of teachers say that their students ask them to become friends on social media. That never happened in the past and it does not appear to be innocent. Our impression is that the students want to see what Arab teachers are posting on Facebook"

‘It’s All Black and White. There’s No Gray’

Another Arab teacher, who works at a school in an Arab community, says that she is conflicted. “We allow the students to express themselves after military operations. They ought to be able to say what they are feeling. Now I don’t know whether to let them talk. I don’t know when to silence them and when I should be silent. We feel like there’s no rule of law in the country. That even if the laws don’t officially change, when it comes to Arabs in the aftermath of October 7, the law isn’t what it was before.”

What are you afraid will happen?

“That my daughter, who is a student, will be arrested for protesting against the occupation. Every time I leave my house, I tell my children that if there’s a knock on the door, they should sit quietly and not open it for anyone – not even the police. I suggested that my daughter should go overseas until the war ends, but she’s worried they won’t let her come back. We’re worried this will be another Nakba. And, for the firs time in my life, I’m thinking about emigrating.”

One young Arab man who takes care of children with special needs feels the need to distance himself. “I was shocked when one of our Jewish workers told me that he had submitted a request for a gun license, because he’s not the most suitable person to be armed. I immediately understood that everyone here will have very twitchy trigger fingers and that maybe I need to rethink my direction. I am not sure that I want to work so closely with Jewish society after all this. I would rather work in construction or picking produce. I want to reduce friction as much as possible, do my job and then go home.”

What bothers you – apart from concerns about gun-related accidents?

“It bothers me that I have to be wary about everyone. That I don’t know who will report me and to whom – the Shin Bet or Im Tirtzu.  There are people here who work so gently with special-needs children who are willing to kill everyone in Gaza with bombs. It’s a kind of crazy schizophrenia. Everything is black and white. There’s no gray area anymore.

“When I canceled one of the after-school classes I teach, because of the war, I wrote to the parents saying that I was praying for good things in the world. I immediately panicked because maybe it’s problematic that I wrote ‘the world’ and I was also referring to Gaza. Maybe they would be a crazy response and I would get myself arrested. One of the mothers wrote back wishing for good things and hoping ‘we would win.’ I couldn’t understand what she meant. That ‘we’ would also defeat me? Everything sets me off.”

And how are they treating you at the association?

“When the war broke out, the head of human resources asked me to find out which members of my team were being called up to the army and where they were being sent. I asked her if she really wanted me to ask them.”

And did you call them?

“Yes, but I stressed that it was HR that wanted to know and only if it was okay with them. I didn’t want to panic them.”

Interaction with the army has been a sore point for many of those interviewed for this article. “A woman in our work WhatsApp group is always asking for donations for soldiers,” says one HMO doctor. “There are a lot of Arab employees in that group and I don’t know whether she’s trying to test our loyalty or not. I do not want to donate money to soldiers. I cannot give money to someone who could bomb civilians. I had no problem going to help people evacuate from the Gaza envelope but to keep pestering me to give money to soldiers doesn’t make any sense. Especially since I cannot start a crowdfunding campaign for innocent people who have been hurt in Gaza. Imagine what a storm there would be.”

“There’s no willingness to listen to us,” says one medical team member. “I don’t know when – if ever – the Jews were willing to hear my voice. I cannot even express sorrow over the death of someone who is not Jewish because that is automatically interpreted as celebrating the murder of a Jew. And it shouldn’t be this way, but now it’s clear to me that I have to get into my bunker. Our freedom of expression is being curtailed. Remember I said that when they started passing legislation.”

You live in a mixed, pluralist city. You’ve been through tough times before.

“Nothing like this. I took my kids to a playground this week. There were some Arab workers there cutting marble. They were drinking coffee and chuckling together, lost in conversation and work. I sat on a bench to one side and saw how everyone there was tense. I deliberated whether to call my children’s names out loud. When I did, I felt that there were more watchful eyes on me than ever before. I am very pessimistic.”