A disgrace at the Knesset committee
Op-ed: We used to have a unique code of manners toward bereaved parents, but it seems that for the sake of politics, it’s okay to settle petty accounts in front of people who have paid an unbearable price.
It looked like a street brawl, sounded like a street brawl and yielded the exact same fruit yielded by such brawls—great astonishment in light of what was going on, a heavy embarrassment, and mainly a bitter feeling of a missed opportunity. Zero achievements in an appropriate battle, which got lost in the commotion, even if the wild show ended with Ilan Sagi—the father of Sergeant Erez Sagi, who was killed in the operation—embracing Coalition Chairman David Bitan, who had screamed at him and called him a liar just an hour earlier.
Zero victories, zero winners, no real benefit—just distressed people who came out of the meeting feeling even more hurt and even more brokenhearted. Excluding, perhaps, Knesset Member Karin Elharrar, the committee’s chairwoman, who gained a couple of minutes of fame in the media when she was mentioned as the one who invited the bereaved parents to the discussion. If she failed to foresee the expected commotion, we should be troubled. And if did foresee it, we should be even more troubled, because it’s clear that if she sought to help those parents in any way—and that is somewhat doubtful—inviting them to the committee did the exact opposite: It seriously sabotaged the status of bereaved parents and impaired their battle.
And so, what should have been clear and unmistakable was undermined: Bereaved parents have the full right—as people who have paid an unbearable price in blood—to demand a thorough investigation into the failures of the operation, failures which were revealed in the state comptroller’s report: That the general statements in the Security Cabinet meetings failed to reflect the severity of the tunnel threat; that significant information required by the cabinet ministers in order to make the optimal decisions was not presented to the ministers, although it had been received by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, Chief of Staff Benny Gantz, Defense Minister Moshe Ya’alon and the heads of military intelligence; that the army was not properly prepared for dealing with the tunnel threat; and, at the same time, that insufficient efforts were made to look into diplomatic alternatives. They have the full right to demand, for the umpteenth time, what Orit Chai—the mother of Staff Sergeant Omer Chai, who was killed in the operation—demanded at the committee meeting: To ensure that the mistakes of the past will not be repeated.
And the parents have one more right, which was represented at the “discussion” by Leah Goldin, the mother of Lt. Hadar Goldin: To demand that the state do everything in its power to return the bodies of soldiers abducted by Hamas; to demand, in other words, the return of their dead sons so they can bury them in Israel.
There was no room for all of this, however, in Wednesday’s meeting. To be more exact, there was no proper room for it in the committee. While in the past we used to have unique code of manners when it came to bereaved parents, there is no doubt that what happened Wednesday was a step toward its complete elimination. What happened at the Knesset was not just another blatant comment on some media outlet. What we saw was that for the sake of politics, it’s okay to settle petty accounts in front of bereaved parents. The ability to contain the anger of bereaved parents ends where future Knesset seats are being counted.
And that is exactly what will remain from that event, from that alleged discussion of the state comptroller’s report on the failures of Operation Protective Edge: The image of bereaved father Ilan Sagi standing up, waving his hands, clashing with MK David Bitan, who called him a liar, while the Knesset usher stands behind him, trying to softly pull him backwards and sit him down; the look on Leah Goldin’s face, amazed and shocked and on the verge of tears, shouting at MK Miki Zohar, who is arguing with her—an MK whose name she doesn’t even know, let alone who and what he represents; and the state comptroller, the report’s author, silently watching the circus developing before his eyes.
