In the process of researching a novel, Michele Levy familiarized herself with the story of Balkan Jewry, and in particular with the history of the synagogue in the Croatian capital of Zagreb:

Jews lived in the Balkans from at least the 1st century CE; waves of Sephardi and Ashkenazi Jews came to the area—some as traders, many to flee persecution farther west. Synagogue ruins and graves along the Adriatic coast place Jews of the late Roman empire in Croatia nearly 2,000 years ago. Evidence shows, too, that Byzantine oppression caused some Jews to relocate even farther east, to the kingdom of Bulgaria. With the Crusades [and the pursuant anti-Semitic persecutions], many Jews from northern Europe spread southeast to avoid pogroms, and from 1492 the Spanish [expulsion] spawned Sephardi migration to the Ottoman empire. By the late 19th and early 20th centuries, with political anti-Semitism on the rise in the Hapsburg empire, many Ashkenazi Jews again looked eastward for safety.

A radical change for Jews came in 1299, when the Ottoman Turks conquered Byzantium and launched their vast empire. While classifying Jews, along with Catholics, Roma, and Orthodox Serbs, as raya, second-class citizens, the Ottomans safeguarded their minorities. This assured Jews better treatment than they had experienced under Byzantium or in the West. With Muslims, they were exempt from the devshirme, the “child tax,” which every four or five years conscripted young Christian boys, mostly Serbs, brought them back to Istanbul, educated them, and made from them a military and bureaucratic force.

The story of Zagreb’s synagogue embodies the fate of many Balkan Jews from post-World War II to the present. Completed in 1867, the synagogue became the first important building erected in Kaptol, Zagreb’s “lower town.” Hailed as a model of Moorish revival architecture, it drew many public officials and citizens to its opening and soon became a source of civic pride.

The synagogue was destroyed during World War II, when the Croatian government sided with the Nazis, and since then local Jews have struggled to mark its former location with a memorial.

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.