Etgar Keret doesn't write like someone trying to save the world. He writes like someone trying to survive a Tuesday in Tel Aviv without losing his mind. But lately, the surrealist master of the short story has shifted from his usual whimsical melancholy to something much sharper. He's looking at the state of Israel and Gaza and asking a question that should keep us all awake at night. Does our existence have to be a constant, passive reaction to the whims of men with guns?
It's a heavy thought for a man famous for stories about talking goldfish and suicidal angels. Keret has spent decades capturing the absurdity of Israeli life, but the current reality has outpaced even his wildest fiction. He's pointing out a terrifying trend where citizens are becoming mere extras in a movie directed by "lords of war." You aren't living your life anymore. You're just responding to the latest siren, the latest decree, or the latest tactical escalation.
The Trap of Perpetual Reaction
Most people think living through a conflict means picking a side and shouting about it. Keret suggests something different. He sees a trap where our entire emotional and intellectual capacity gets hijacked by the conflict itself. If you spend every waking hour reacting to what a general or a militant leader does, you've surrendered your soul before a single shot is even fired.
I've watched this happen in real-time. People stop planning for next year. They stop dreaming about art or travel or simple peace. Instead, they become experts in ballistics, international law, and urban warfare. They adopt the language of the people they claim to despise. When your vocabulary is limited to "retaliation," "deterrence," and "strategic objectives," you've already let the warlords win. You're speaking their language. You're playing on their board.
Keret’s point isn't about being apolitical. It’s about being human in a way that isn't defined by the state. He’s noticed that the space for individual thought is shrinking. It’s being crushed between two polarized walls of "us versus them." If you don’t fit into a pre-approved box of loyalty, you're seen as a traitor or a fool.
Why the Short Story Matters in a Time of Long Wars
There's a reason Keret sticks to the short story format. In a world of grand, sweeping national narratives, the short story is a protest. It focuses on the minute. It focuses on the guy who just wants to get a decent cup of coffee while the world burns. These small moments are where our humanity actually lives.
The "lords of war" love grand narratives. They love talk of "destiny," "justice," and "history." These are big, heavy words that they use to crush the individual. Keret uses small words. He uses the mundane. By focusing on the awkward, the funny, and the pathetic aspects of human life, he reminds us that we are more than just demographic data points or collateral damage.
We’ve seen this before in literature, from Joseph Heller to Kurt Vonnegut. But Keret is living it in a 24-hour news cycle. He’s arguing that the most radical thing you can do in a war zone is to remain weird. To remain unpredictable. To care about things that have absolutely no tactical value.
The Death of Nuance
One of the most frustrating parts of the current climate is the demand for total certainty. You're supposed to know exactly who is right and exactly what should happen next. Keret admits he doesn't know. And that honesty is refreshing.
He speaks about the "moral vertigo" of living in Israel today. It’s the feeling that the ground is shifting under your feet and every direction leads to a cliff. Most commentators try to hide this vertigo with bravado. Keret leans into it. He shows that it’s possible—and perhaps necessary—to feel deep empathy for your own people while being horrified by what is being done in your name.
Resisting the Passive Life
So how do you actually stop reacting passively? It starts with reclaiming your time and your attention. The warlords want you glued to the screen. They want your blood pressure high. They want you scared.
Resistance looks like:
- Reading a book that has nothing to do with the Middle East.
- Talking to your neighbors about their lives, not their politics.
- Refusing to use the dehumanizing language of "targets" and "neutralization."
- Supporting independent art and journalism that complicates the narrative.
Keret isn't offering a peace plan. He's offering a survival guide for the human spirit. He’s reminding us that while we might not be able to stop the bombs, we can refuse to let them dictate who we are inside.
The danger isn't just physical. It's the slow erosion of the imagination. If we can't imagine a world that isn't defined by this conflict, we'll never build one. The warlords have no imagination. They only have repetition. They do the same thing over and over, expecting a different result, and we're expected to cheer for it every time.
Reclaiming the Narrative from the Top Down
The people in power thrive on our compliance. They need us to believe that their way is the only way. When an artist like Keret stands up and says, "This is absurd," he’s poking a hole in that facade. He’s showing that the emperor isn't just naked—he’s boring.
The tragedy of the "seigneurs de la guerre" is that they are fundamentally uncreative. They can destroy, but they can't build anything that lasts. They can command armies, but they can't command a heart to feel joy. Keret’s work is a testament to the fact that the creative impulse is stronger than the destructive one.
We need to stop waiting for a hero to save us and start saving our own minds. That means turning off the pundits and looking at the person standing next to you. It means recognizing that the "enemy" is likely just as trapped in a reactive loop as you are.
The Cost of Silence
Keret has faced criticism for his stance. In a society under pressure, dissent is often treated as a luxury or a betrayal. But he understands that silence is the ultimate form of passive reaction. By staying silent, you're giving your "ok" to the current script.
He’s choosing to speak, not as a politician, but as a witness. He’s witnessing the slow death of the Israeli dream and the agonizing reality of Palestinian suffering. He’s witnessing the way fear turns good people into monsters. And by witnessing it, he’s making it harder for the warlords to pretend that everything is going according to plan.
Breaking the Loop
To move forward, we have to break the loop of provocation and response. It’s a cycle that feeds itself, and it has no natural end point. The only way out is a conscious choice to step off the track.
This isn't about "both-sidesing" a conflict. It's about recognizing that the current framework is a failure. If the only options on the table are different versions of violence, then the table is broken. Keret is suggesting we go build a different table in a different room.
Stop looking for the solution in a military briefing. Start looking for it in the stories we tell each other. If those stories are only about revenge and victimhood, we're stuck. If they can be about something else—something smaller, stranger, and more human—we might have a chance.
Take a moment today to disconnect from the "official" version of reality. Pick up a book of stories. Write your own. Talk to someone you're supposed to hate and find out what they ate for breakfast. It sounds small. It sounds insignificant. But in a world run by warlords, it’s the most powerful thing you can do.
Don't let them own your anger. Don't let them own your fear. Most importantly, don't let them own your boredom. Reclaim your life by refusing to be a background character in their violent play. You have a voice. Use it to say something they didn't teach you to say.
