This One was Different

(June 16, 2025 / JNS) This one was different. On Friday morning the 13th at 2:56 a.m., we were awoken by an eerie, piercing blast. At first the alarm blasted that it was an “earthquake” warning. A few minutes later we learned the truth: Israel had struck Iran.

Ever since arriving in Israel, over a month ago, we were used to the habitual strikes of the Houthis, sometimes running for cover under a bus station or in the nearest momad, sealed room. But this was somehow distinct.

And then it came: wave after wave after wave.

Sunday night’s actions were bold, courageous and daring. The Israeli Air Force conducted over 200 sorties. The goal has been to eliminate the Iranian nuclear threat that has been looming over Israel’s existence for the last 20 years. We also know that in the 77 years since 1948, there have been continuous existential threats against the state of Israel. And we know, as well, that Israel is simply the appetizer. The main course is the United States and the entire free world.

Among those eliminated in Friday’s airstrikes were:

Mohammad Bagheri, the highest rankest military officer in Iran and the head of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, (IRGC), as well as the Iranian military. He was responsible for developing Iran’s ballistic missile and drone program.

Hossein Salami, the Commander in Chief of the IRGC. Salami was one of the major architects shaping the Islamic Republic’s regional strategy of influence across the Middle East, including support for Hezbollah, the Houthis and Hamas, as well as the Assad family’s influence over Syria.

Gholam Ali Rashid, Major General of the Iranian military. He has described Hamas, Hezbollah, Palestinian Islamic Jihad, the Houthis and the Irai Popular Mobilization Units as not merely allies, but an extension of Iran’s military force.

And then there were the hits upon the top scientists responsible for Iran’s nuclear program: The former chief of the Atomic Energy Organization of Iran, Fereydoun Abbasi-Davani; physicist and president of the Islamic Azad University of Tehran, Mohammad Mehdi Tehranji; as well as Ali Shamkhani, a close advisor and diplomat who was overseeing the nuclear talks with the United States.

Natanz was the epicenter of the uranium enrichment facility, the site responsible for the 60 per cent enrichment of uranium, just a hair’s breadth away from the 90 per cent necessary for nuclear bombs. The electricity in the underground facility, where the centrifuges had been spinning, was also destroyed. Isfahan, where the nuclear assembly took place was badly damaged. Some of the above ground sites at Fordow, buried deep in the mountains near Qum, caused some mild damage. But we know this war is far from over.

The meticulously executed strikes on these high-profile targets signaled not just a show of military might but a symbolic statement to adversaries near and far. The operation underscored Israel’s resolve to address emerging threats with precision and urgency. Each wave of sorties aimed to dismantle Iran’s intricate nexus of influence, a network that extended its reach through proxies and covert alliances across the region.

While the military objectives were clear, the broader implications were anything but straightforward. The strikes disrupted Iran’s strategic calculus, forcing its leadership to reconsider its posture and alliances in the region. My “WhatsApp” group depicts scores and scores of ecstatic Iranians, delighted to see an end to their brutal regime.

Yet, as much as the operation dealt a significant blow to much of Iran’s capabilities, it also raised the stakes in a geopolitical contest that seemed to have no end in sight. The immediate question was not just how Iran would respond but also how its allies and proxies would regroup in the wake of such decisive action.

Meanwhile, the human impact of the operation reverberated through both Israel and Iran, as ordinary citizens confronted an uncertain and precarious reality. Here in Israel, when we can, we cling to fleeting moments of normalcy, even as the specter of retaliation looms large. Still in all, there have been Israeli civilian casualties, so far 13 that we know of.

It is important to note this distinct difference in tactics: The Israeli Air Force aims at the Iranian military, IRGC and nuclear infrastructure. The Iranian regime aims at Israeli civilians.

In Iran, the loss of military and scientific leaders left a vacuum, one that could either humble the regime into recalibrating its nuclear ambitions or embolden it to strike back with even greater ferocity.

The strikes also sent a ripple effect through global capitals, where policymakers scrambled to assess the ramifications. Would this bold move strengthen Israel’s position on the world stage, or would it deepen the rift between nations already divided on Middle Eastern policy? The answers to these questions seemed as elusive as peace itself in a region long accustomed to volatility and conflict.

The impact of the last few waves of strikes reverberated through the corridors of power and the streets of the cities throughout the world. Political leaders assessed the consequences, speculating on the future of Iran’s regional proxies and their ability to regroup. Humanitarian organizations braced for the fallout, aware that the strikes would not only destabilize governments but could also worsen civilian suffering across the region.

Amidst the geopolitical consequences, the emotional toll was no less profound. Families glued themselves to news broadcasts, their anxiety escalating with every incoming report. Social media thrived on a flurry of speculation and fragmented clips of the strikes, amplifying the uncertainty that had already gripped the nation. For many, the events marked a crossroads, a moment when hope, fear, and resilience intertwined in the collective consciousness.

The strategic brilliance of the operation was undeniable, showcasing Israel’s determination and capability to neutralize threats. Yet, the cost was equally apparent: a deeper chasm in an already fragile regional stability and an even more precarious future for diplomacy. The strikes had altered the calculus of power, and now the question remained—how far would the ripples reach?

The resonance of the strikes were immediate and palpable, both within Israel and beyond its borders. Missile defense systems lit up the night sky in Tel Aviv, responding to sporadic retaliations, while ground forces remained on high alert. The intelligence community worked feverishly to assess the ripple effects on regional stability, knowing that these actions had ignited not only military repercussions but also a political firestorm.

Across the region, alliances were reexamined and rhetoric intensified. Leaders convened in emergency meetings, some fuming with outrage, others quietly recalibrating strategies in light of the altered landscape. The airwaves buzzed with conflicting narratives, each trying to assert dominance over the truth. For Israel, the strikes were a calculated risk, a gamble that its survival depended on preempting the existential threats—a gamble that now hung precariously over the fragile balance of global diplomacy.

At the heart of the chaos, ordinary citizens endured an emotional maelstrom, torn between pride in their nation’s audacity and fear of the consequences. Conversations at cafés and markets turned somber, strangers sharing glances that spoke volumes. The collective psyche had shifted, as though the nation itself had stepped into an uncharted, perilous threshold where resolve met vulnerability.

As dawn breaks each morning, the world seemed both eerily quiet and charged with an invisible current of unease. A sense of disbelief hangs in the air, punctuated by the sharp realization of the events that had unfolded. Conversations became hushed exchanges, heavy with the weight of speculation, dread and pride. The streets, populated by shadows darting from one corner to the next, reflected the trepidation of a city bracing for what might come next. No one wanders far from their sealed rooms.
In the aftermath, the international community reacted with a mixture of shock and condemnation, leaders exchanging terse remarks and hurried calls for diplomacy. The news cycle churned relentlessly, detailing the strike’s precision and the high-profile individuals who had been targeted, yet leaving behind an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. For those on the ground, however, survival took precedence over analysis, their thoughts focused on protecting loved ones and navigating the chaos that had become their new reality.

The once-familiar streets now seemed foreign, shrouded in an oppressive silence that was broken only by the sporadic wail of sirens in the distance. Radios crackled with hurried voices, offering fragments of information that painted a grim picture of the unfolding events. Families huddled together in shelters, their whispered prayers merging with the faint hum of generators. The loud booms linger faintly each evening in the air, a haunting reminder of the escalating conflict. Even amidst the chaos, there was an unspoken unity, a shared resilience that bound everyone together in the face of uncertainty.

The air was thick with tension, and through the windows, we could see neighbors stepping cautiously out of their homes, a few joggers and runners on the streets; a few couples furtively heading for the park. News updates filter in sporadically, each one adding layers of confusion and fear. The realization of what had happened in neighborhoods perilously close to where I and my family are today hangs in the air too heavy to comprehend, and yet the world outside seemed eerily still, as if holding its breath.

Still, one cannot help but wonder—where were these leaders when the centrifuges spun unchecked beneath the mountains of Fordow? Where were they when proxies launched rockets into civilian centers, when children were raised on textbooks soaked in genocidal ideology? Where was the righteous indignation then?

There will be much talk in the coming days—about proportionality, about diplomacy, about restraint. But those who live under the perpetual threat of annihilation do not have the luxury of academic debates. They act not out of vengeance, but out of necessity. And necessity, now more than ever, dictates vigilance, courage, and clarity.
This operation was not just about missiles or generals or underground labs. It was about drawing a line in the sand. About asserting that Jewish blood is not cheap. That Jewish lives are not expendable. That the Jewish state will not wait passively for the sword to fall.

As I sit each night in the sealed room, watching my grandchildren sleep while sirens wail in the distance, I think of generations past—of those who perished without defense, without a homeland, without a voice. And I think of this moment—not as an end, but as a defiant affirmation.

Because this is the reason for Israel’s existence: to protect and defend the heart and soul of the Jewish nation and the Jewish people.

Sarah N. Stern is Founder and President of EMET