Israelis have every right to be angry, and they are. They’re angry with a government that was formed after wasting a year on campaigning; that was formed to address an emergency situation; that was supposed to focus on what was important and failed to rise to the occasion.
With the outbreak of the coronavirus, Israel’s response was immediate, measured and as good as one can expect in a murky situation where information is scarce. In April, the country was in relatively good shape but there were reasons to worry. Our politicians seemed too celebratory, almost smug. They often failed to serve as proper models for responsible behavior. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu had his son over for seder night, while other Israelis were asked to keep their families away. A prospective minister attended a party when parties were not allowed. The health minister didn’t follow the instructions of his own ministry.
In short, our leaders failed to realize that in a time of crisis — when public trust is key — they must set an example. They have been spoiled, self-centered, detached from the public. When Israelis were losing their jobs, our politicians created more jobs for themselves by establishing new ministries, adding more positions and passing laws that benefit the parties. Yes, they also dealt with the crisis but at times it seemed like a sideshow to their real interests: playing politics, preparing for another round of elections, fighting one another, playing an exhausting blame game.
Our leaders were thoughtless. Even worse, they were and are undignified.
While our politicians were playing politics, the virus spread. The leaders blame the public. They have a point: The public wasn’t listening to them. The public forgot the rules and resumed normal summer partying. However, the public behaved this way because of its leaders. Their recklessness set the tone. Their smallness made us all smaller. We suspected their motivations, we questioned their good judgment, we ignored their advice and we dismissed their concerns.
And now we are angry with them — and possibly ourselves. We were foolish when we didn’t wear masks in public places. We were foolish when we sent our children to school as soon as schools reopened. We were foolish when we went to bars or parties or reopened synagogues. We were foolish to engage in meaningless discussions about things as negligible as annexation, and Netanyahu’s trial and the daily brawl between the attorney general and Likud members of Knesset, and the “Norwegian Law” (aimed at adding more politicians to the ones we already have).
Our leaders were thoughtless. Even worse, they were and are undignified. They take credit but not responsibility. They make demands but give themselves exemptions. They ask for sacrifice but sacrifice nothing. Had they not been my leaders, I would just call them bums.
So here I am. Angry. Again.
On the one hand, my job as a writer is to tell the story as I see it, to report the facts, explain the dynamics, analyze the possible consequences, on the assumption that the truth serves the interests of the public. But when a plague hits, it is not clear that the truth plays such a role, and as a writer, I’m trapped. If I tell the story as I see it, I might make people less trustful of our reckless government, thereby worsening a situation I’m aiming to improve. If I tell people to trust the government because that’s the only way for a country to deal with a plague, I betray my vocation of being a truth teller.
Did I choose correctly? Here’s one reason I’m angry: Had my government been responsible, I wouldn’t have to make a choice.
