Eitan Haber
צילום: שלום בר טל
Not a year to remember
It would be good if we could erase this past year from our collective memory
In national, public terms, it would perhaps have been appropriate for the past year to be erased from our collective memory: We had a president, prime minister, finance minister, and seven other government ministers who were politely asked to respond to questions such as “your name please?” “your social insurance number?” “your address?” and listen to statements such as “you are being investigated under warning and anything you say may be used against you in court.”
What can we do about this disgrace? Even if they are all acquitted, our collective memory will remain etched with images of police vehicles slowly approaching the presidential residence, the prime minister’s residence, and the finance minister’s home. This was a journey of disgrace, to the lowest moments of an administration and a government in Israel last year.
When it comes to the diplomatic front, we did not have too many moments of elation this past year. We saw no praiseworthy breakthroughs. On the security front, we continued to lick the wounds of the Second Lebanon War. On the economic front we worked hard to survive and put enough money in our coffers for rainy days.
The government was indeed managed by the prime minister almost without any mishaps and deviations – but what kind of government was it? One without vision, almost without a way, with ministers seeing the threat of police probes hanging above them.
In personal, private terms, this was yet another year for many of us – a year of family celebrations, children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren who were born, and a year of success at work. Yet we also saw great tragedies: The loss of children and their tragic end, employment difficulties, and people on the verge of hunger.
Children were shaking, scared of a Qassam rocket explosion. Mothers cried at the IDF induction office. Fathers looked away when the army bus carrying their child drove away. Meanwhile, peace this year was a matter reserved to speakers and speeches. Israeli democracy, which we pride ourselves on, took yet another step forward towards the abyss.
We are told that on Rosh Hashana it is customary to express optimism and hope, and to see and want a better future for us and for our families. We wanted this, very much so, this time around. But it didn’t work out.
So perhaps we shall be comforted by a quote from a song by Yoram Taharlev, “Tabernacle of Peace”: “Deep inside, I still seek a tabernacle of peace and the shadow of a fig tree. Yet now, I no longer insist, if not now, perhaps in a year…just let me long for tomorrow, rather than for yesterday.”
