NYN | Articles
In the Iranian narrative, war does not end with a truce—it begins with one. When the sound of bullets fades and rockets fall silent, when everyone sits down to reshuffle the papers, Iran pulls out the final card from under the table… and on it is a bomb: Boom.
Nothing rivals the sound of missiles tearing through Tel Aviv’s skies—messages from Persia named Emad, Ghadr, Kheibar, Fattah-1, all launched, crossing the heavens… and others still, hypersonic, mysterious, powerful, and heavy—Fattah-2 and Sejjil—yet to be launched.
As always, Iran doesn’t unleash everything at once. It launches half the war—and leaves the other half for negotiation.
When a ceasefire draws near, so does the strike. Because the one who ends the war is the one who leads the negotiations.
And Iran knows this very well.
But don’t worry, “Israel is strong,” says the Hebrew media… Yes, strong enough to threaten everyone around it, yet fragile enough to crumble in front of an iPhone camera in Gaza.
For the first time, the Arab public sees in the Iranian missile something resembling hope—or at least postponed justice. The exhausted, fragmented, self-doubting Arab world claps and watches—not necessarily supporters of Tehran, but joyful at the sight of Israeli arrogance stumbling, even if just briefly.
It is raining—yes—but not the clouds of June this time.
Tel Aviv is lit every night by fire and iron… Look at it burn.
A friend of mine in Ramallah told me, his voice mixed with the noise of celebration:
“People are out in the streets, everywhere… We’ve never seen Tel Aviv this close before—so close, and terrified.”
The “Chosen People” are screaming. The blond settler in Beit El—the one who brought Merkavas to the edge of Damascus—is now crammed in an underground shelter, banned from stepping outside.
This isn’t an article about war, or about Iran. Not about Gaza. And not even about Israel.
This is an article about Bibi, the King of Israel.
Listen closely (invaders), from someone who does not like you, and doesn’t pretend otherwise:
“You are trapped in a boring, endless biblical scene—with no salvation and no escape. The Red Sea is closed on both ends. No exodus from Pharaoh. No exit from the wilderness.
The real danger to you is named Benjamin Netanyahu.
He walks among you, shouts, and smiles—because he knows… he’s drowning.
And he also knows that his drowning is not complete unless he takes you all down with him, one by one, into the abyss.
He will not fall alone—he needs everyone to fall with him so he can still feel heavy.”
Netanyahu is a toxic relationship with the idea of immortality. A man obsessed with Iran, addicted to destruction.
He rules a fearful people—and a fearful media.
Netanyahu plants wars to escape the Supreme Court. A man who, if not Prime Minister, would likely be detained in Nachshon prison—or locked away in Ma’asiyahu.
A war criminal, wanted by the International Criminal Court, attacking a sovereign state with the confidence of the victorious.
The farce? He does so with the blessing of leaders who write their speeches on the principles of democracy and human rights.
Take Emmanuel Macron, for example—he didn’t hesitate to express support in that refined French tone, the same tone used to console the massacres in Gaza.
This narcissist doesn’t believe in diplomacy—because he doesn’t believe in the existence of anyone but himself. He flirts with war the way he flirts with a woman he knows he’ll fail with.
Netanyahu doesn’t negotiate—he dictates, commands, and sets the rules. A man chasing eternal rule… who savors blood like a narcissist savors the tears of a woman he’s just confessed love to.
Netanyahu today is dragging an entire entity into the abyss—just to prove to himself he is still the strongest man. Even if the whole country collapses beneath him.
Exactly like the narcissist cornered—he does not admit, does not apologize. Instead, he escalates in violence, deception, and denial. He doesn’t retreat—he burns everything down.
Israel only knows how to live under sirens.
A state addicted to adrenaline, re-creating itself through war alone.
Without killing, what remains of the “Jewish State” surrounded by walls of hatred?
Without fear, how does it convince its sons they are a chosen people?
Israel’s algorithm functions through attrition.
It adopts the ideology of long wars, lights blood-soaked rituals in the name of deterrence, weeps as the victim, and claims it is the “Promised End.”
In Israel, internal fractures are widening.
Societal division has surpassed religion and language and reached the heart of the Zionist narrative itself.
The angry citizen is no longer only suffering from Gaza’s rockets—or Iran’s.
He suffers from electricity bills, from income tax nightmares, from the myth of an invincible army that now runs like him and hides in shelters.
The myth has ended.
But Israel still acts like it’s inside a story—
Just look at it burn.
Believe me, Israel’s days are numbered—maybe they were never long to begin with.
A state ruled by madness and delusion cannot continue.
Israel is an open psychiatric ward: collective disorders, national schizophrenia, and security hysteria taught in school textbooks.
States don’t always die from enemy rockets or nuclear strikes.
Sometimes they die quietly, from gradual schizophrenia—when paranoia becomes governance, and the “enemy” becomes existential.
When the “other” becomes the reason for self, the self ends when the reason does.
In the Torah, it is said that the Children of Israel wandered for forty years in the desert because they dared to doubt.
So how many years will Israel wander, having built its entire entity on doubt, fear, and a myth too fragile to withstand sunlight?
Having committed murder for 77 years in the name of “divine right”…
Other prophecies, in ancient Hebrew texts, speak of kingdoms built on blood that fell into the sea… of cities fortified by divine commandments, overwhelmed by wrath…
And Israel knows its end is coming.
It knows well—as does anyone who builds on myth—that the end is inevitable… just delayed.
And it will fight to the last moment—not to survive, but to delay the fall a little longer… just a little longer.
— University Professor, Researcher in International Relations and International Human Rights Law – Paris
