In the small Baltic nation of Lithuania, any attempt at public discussion of the Holocaust has generally been made impossible by the history of local collaboration in the slaughter of Jews, the country’s attempt to ally with the Nazis against the Soviets, and today’s ever-growing, and well founded, fears of Russian revanche. But Benas Gerdziunas points to some signs that this might be changing:

In the years following Lithuanian independence [from the Soviet Union] in 1991, a succession of governments has offered a narrative of history connecting the modern state to the World War II effort to win independence at the cost of collaboration [with the Nazis]. A street dedicated to Kazys Škirpa, prime minister of the Nazi-collaborating government [that ruled from 1941 to 1944], stretches below the iconic Gediminas castle in the capital city of Vilnius. Jonas Noreika, who signed orders consigning Jews to ghettos where they were murdered, was posthumously awarded the country’s second highest military medal after Lithuanian independence in 1991. . . .

Textbooks in Lithuanian schools offer only fleeting mentions of Lithuanian Jewry, an integral part of Lithuanian society for more than 500 years. And the history of the Holocaust moves swiftly on to the stories of the many Lithuanians who saved Jews. . . .

In 2016, Ruta Vanagaite, a Lithuanian writer, injected the Holocaust back into public discourse with a book, Our People, which paints a stark contrast to the official historical narrative. She was immediately swamped with interview requests, she says, by “Putin apologists” and representatives from the Russian media and the Russian embassy in Vilnius. “I refused, knowing what it would mean for Lithuania,” she says. “We need to deal with this ourselves.”

On Tuesday, a Hizballah drone attack injured three people in northern Israel. The next day, another attack, targeting an IDF base, injured eighteen people, six of them seriously, in Arab al-Amshe, also in the north. This second attack involved the simultaneous use of drones carrying explosives and guided antitank missiles. In both cases, the defensive systems that performed so successfully last weekend failed to stop the drones and missiles. Ron Ben-Yishai has a straightforward explanation as to why: the Lebanon-backed terrorist group is getting better at evading Israel defenses. He explains the three basis systems used to pilot these unmanned aircraft, and their practical effects:

These systems allow drones to act similarly to fighter jets, using “dead zones”—areas not visible to radar or other optical detection—to approach targets. They fly low initially, then ascend just before crashing and detonating on the target. The terrain of southern Lebanon is particularly conducive to such attacks.

But this requires skills that the terror group has honed over months of fighting against Israel. The latest attacks involved a large drone capable of carrying over 50 kg (110 lbs.) of explosives. The terrorists have likely analyzed Israel’s alert and interception systems, recognizing that shooting down their drones requires early detection to allow sufficient time for launching interceptors.

The IDF tries to detect any incoming drones on its radar, as it had done prior to the war. Despite Hizballah’s learning curve, the IDF’s technological edge offers an advantage. However, the military must recognize that any measure it takes is quickly observed and analyzed, and even the most effective defenses can be incomplete. The terrain near the Lebanon-Israel border continues to pose a challenge, necessitating technological solutions and significant financial investment.