In the early hours of the missile exchange between Israel and Iran, a video spread from a nightclub in Beirut: loud music, dim lighting, bodies swaying — and in the sky above their heads, Iranian missiles streaking through Lebanese airspace toward Israel. The dancers swayed even more as they watched the scene above, continuing their celebration of “life.”

Another video from Syria showed partygoers smoking shisha, laughing, and cheering as the missiles passed overhead. Similar scenes emerged from other areas.

The emotions and images felt surreal: are we celebrating on the edge of apocalypse?
Have the rituals of war become part of our nightlife?
Have we grown so accustomed to the idea of annihilation on the altar of grand projects?

These videos, along with a flood of sarcastic comments that are less funny than they are heartbreaking, reveal a harsh paradox: we are celebrating war, or at least behaving as if it were an occasion for joy.

Arab sentiment split between two camps: one cheering Iran’s bombing of Israel, in revenge for Gaza, a compensation for feelings of helplessness, and a fleeting reclaiming of a dignity shattered by Benjamin Netanyahu’s arrogance and the brutality of his government. The other applauded Israel’s strikes on Tehran, out of spite for Iran — for its repressive militia symbolism at home and the havoc it has wreaked in Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon.

Amid this clamor of gloating and celebration, the bigger question is missing: what does this war mean for the region? What would it actually mean if Iran and Israel slipped into open confrontation?

The attacks targeting Iranian oil and industrial facilities all signal that Benjamin Netanyahu is unlikely to stop at dismantling Iran’s nuclear program. Israel is openly declaring its aim to topple the regime, or at the very least, to strip it of its ability to defend itself and shatter its image as an unchallenged power.

What do we stand to gain if this trajectory wins out? And how will a direct war between Israel and Iran — after years of proxy wars — reflect on us?

What’s dangerous about the current scene isn’t just the missiles, destruction, death, and mutual threats. It’s also the way each side is trying to justify the unjustifiable. Israel claims to be defending itself and the world from an Iranian nuclear weapon, finding in Washington’s silence — or implicit support — an open mandate to bomb as it pleases. Iran responds under the slogan of “responding to aggression,” but is also seizing the moment to assert itself as a regional player that cannot be violated without consequence.

These showdowns, whether presented as national security defense or as a display of “divine” power, are not our battle; not for the people caught between the missiles. Neither Israel nor Iran represents a liberation project. Both regimes possess arsenals of violence and a record of repression and destruction, both internally and externally. The irony is that each speaks the language of defending values and justice while spreading ruin.

Yes, it’s a charged moment, one where calm evaluation is missing, precisely when there’s a greater need to deconstruct the nationalist or sectarian narratives that make us cheer a missile simply because it was launched from “our side” toward “our enemy.”

The issue is deeper than a single narrative; it concerns the fate of the region. More militarization. More dismantling of what remains of national states. More marginalization of people.

The discussion about Iran’s nuclear weapons cannot be separated from the reality of Israel’s undeclared nuclear arsenal, which is unaccountable. Yet at the same time, it’s impossible to ignore that the Iranian regime seeks nuclear capability not just as a deterrent, but as a tool to entrench its influence and regional ambitions.

In both cases, we are facing a nuclear arms race driven by an authoritarian religious mindset on one side and a settler-colonial racist mindset on the other.

There is no joy in this scene—no victory, no genuine dignity, no horizon. Only the illusion that someone represents us in this clash. The truth is, no one does.

It is naïve for our positions to remain trapped between cheering and gloating in a proxy conflict tearing the region apart. We must bring the conversation back to its fundamental root: Who represents the peoples of this region? Who defends their right to freedom, not to weapons? To life, not to bombings? To independence, not to allegiance to warring axes?

Until we find that voice, we will continue dancing on the edge of the volcano, counting the missiles and syncing them to the beat of songs.