Analysis from Israel
The fact that some MKs who opposed the Schalit deal nevertheless kept silent at the family’s request was a betrayal of their duty as the public’s elected representatives.
One of the most disturbing revelations of the past two weeks is that some

Knesset members who opposed the ransom deal for Gilad Schalit nevertheless

acceded to his family’s request to keep silent until the deal was

concluded.

On October 21, for instance, former MK Tzachi Hanegbi, of

Kadima, wrote the following in these pages:

A few years ago, I got a call from

Zvi Schalit, Gilad’s grandfather. He was upset by a radio interview I had given

that morning. At the time, I was chairman of the Knesset Foreign Affairs and

Defense Committee, and I detailed the “red lines” of the security and political

establishment over a prisoner exchange with Hamas.

Zvi Schalit sought to

persuade me that the state should not draft tougher principles on negotiating

with terrorists until his grandson was safely returned to his family.

I

couldn’t agree, but my heart went out to the grandfather’s plea. At his request,

I pledged not to worsen the family’s pain by making my position public. And I

kept my word.

Two days later, Kadima chairwoman Tzipi Livni announced

that she, too, opposed the Schalit deal, believing that it undermined Israel’s

deterrence and strengthened Hamas, but kept silent until it was concluded at the

request of Gilad’s father, Noam.

Livni and Hanegbi are almost certainly

not alone; many politicians, journalists and other public figures likely made

the same choice for the same reason. And I can understand their motives, because

I, too, received that heartrending phone call from Zvi Schalit, after publishing

a column in this paper in 2009 opposing the deal as it stood then. It’s very

hard to say “no” to a thoroughly decent man going through hell and begging you

not to add to his agony. And while I couldn’t retract what I’d already

published, I ended the conversation thinking that had he called before I wrote

the article, I might well have decided there were enough other things to write

about; I didn’t need to pour salt in the Schalit family’s wounds. Nevertheless,

Hanegbi and Livni were wrong to let their compassion overrule their judgment.

Livni herself gave the best argument for why.

“The people of Israel

forced the government to free Gilad Schalit,” she charged, correctly, when she

finally broke her silence. But did she really expect the people to do otherwise

when they were deluged, day after day, with arguments in favor of the deal,

while those who opposed it largely kept silent out of compassion for the

Schalits? You can’t win a battle of ideas by abandoning the field.

And

while private individuals have the right to eschew the fray, MKs do not, because

they have a fiduciary duty to the public: They are elected to serve the people,

and they owe those they serve their best judgment. By placing the good of one

family over what they themselves deemed to be the national interest, Livni and

Hanegbi betrayed the people who elected them.

This dereliction of duty

was compounded by the fact that they were uniquely well-poised to influence the

public debate, since their positions gave them access to information the general

public lacked. Hanegbi chaired the Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee for

four and a half years of Schalit’s captivity; Livni was foreign minister during

the first three years and leader of the opposition thereafter. All three

positions grant their occupants access to information that isn’t in the public

domain.

No official statistics, for instance, have ever been published on

what percentage of freed terrorists returned to terror; the estimates I saw in

the press during the years of Schalit’s captivity ranged from 13 to 80 percent –

a variance so enormous the public couldn’t possibly assess the magnitude of the

danger the deal posed. By virtue of their positions, Hanegbi and Livni could

have demanded that the security services provide real data and then publicized

it, thereby facilitating such an assessment. Instead, they chose to keep

silent.

Six weeks ago, I wrote a column criticizing MKs who seem to think

their job begins and ends with making public statements, rather than trying to

turn their ideas into legislation. An MK who is nothing more than a pundit is

useless; punditry can be done just as well from outside the Knesset.

But

refraining entirely from public statements is no less problematic because, in a

democracy, public opinion influences governmental decisions. Hence elected

representatives have an obligation to try to shape public opinion on the burning

issues of the day. That some MKs (and again, I doubt Livni and Hanegbi were

alone) instead sat out the public debate on a deal they considered dangerous to

the country is thus deeply troubling.

‘);]]>

Speaking against the Schalit deal

would certainly have caused the Schalits great pain. But if causing pain

is a

reason for silence, no public debate could ever be held. Did the Gazan

settlers

slated to be thrown out of their homes not feel pain when MKs lobbied

for the

disengagement? Did the victims of post-Oslo terror not feel pain when

MKs

praised Mahmoud Abbas as a “peace partner” even as Abbas lauded their

loved

ones’ murderers as heroes? Did Livni and Hanegbi ever seriously consider

not

pursuing these policies out of

consideration for one particular family’s pain?

Their silence over Schalit is yet more evidence that far too many MKs

seem not

to understand the most basic responsibilities of their office. And then

they

wonder why only one-third

of Israelis retain any trust in what ought to be

democracy’s flagship institution.

The writer is a journalist and commentator.

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Why Israel Needs a Better Political Class

Note: This piece is a response to an essay by Haviv Rettig Gur, which can be found here

Israel’s current political crisis exemplifies the maxim that hard cases make bad law. This case is desperate. Six months after the coronavirus erupted and nine months after the fiscal year began, Israel still lacks both a functioning contact-tracing system and an approved 2020 budget, mainly because Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is more worried about politics than the domestic problems that Israel now confronts. The government’s failure to perform these basic tasks obviously invites the conclusion that civil servants’ far-reaching powers must not only be preserved, but perhaps even increased.

This would be the wrong conclusion. Bureaucrats, especially when they have great power, are vulnerable to the same ills as elected politicians. But unlike politicians, they are completely unaccountable to the public.

That doesn’t mean Haviv Rettig Gur is wrong to deem them indispensable. They provide institutional memory, flesh out elected officials’ policies, and supply information the politicians may not know and options they may not have considered. Yet the current crisis shows in several ways why they neither can nor should substitute for elected politicians.

First, bureaucrats are no less prone to poor judgment than politicians. As evidence, consider Siegal Sadetzki, part of the Netanyahu-led triumvirate that ran Israel’s initial response to the coronavirus. It’s unsurprising that Gur never mentioned Sadetzki even as he lauded the triumvirate’s third member, former Health Ministry Director General Moshe Bar Siman-Tov; she and her fellow Health Ministry staffers are a major reason why Israel still lacks a functional test-and-trace system.

Sadetzki, an epidemiologist, was the ministry’s director of public-health services and the only member of the triumvirate with professional expertise in epidemics (Bar Siman-Tov is an economist). As such, her input was crucial. Yet she adamantly opposed expanding virus testing, even publicly asserting that “Too much testing will increase complacence.” She opposed letting organizations outside the public-health system do lab work for coronavirus tests, even though the system was overwhelmed. She opposed sewage monitoring to track the spread of the virus. And on, and on.

Moreover, even after acknowledging that test-and-trace was necessary, ministry bureaucrats insisted for months that their ministry do the tracing despite its glaringly inadequate manpower. Only in August was the job finally given to the army, which does have the requisite personnel. And the system still isn’t fully operational.

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