by Yaakov Amidror
In an affidavit to the High Court of Justice, I wrote that Ashdod and Kiryat Gat would come within range of rocket fire from Gaza. I could not have imagined that I had underestimated Hamas' capabilities in this regard.
Dismantling a road sign in
Gush Katif prior to the disengagement
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Photo credit: Miri Tzachi  |
A short while after the unilateral withdrawal
from Gush Katif was announced, a senior minister phoned me and asked
that I write an opinion piece justifying the move. After devoting some
deep thought in the matter, I told him I would write, but against the
decision. When an appeal was submitted to the High Court of Justice, I
was asked if I'd be willing to issue an affidavit containing my
professional estimation of what would follow once the decision was
implemented. I studied the law being proposed and came to the conclusion
that in all likelihood, none of the clauses seeking to make assurances
would stand the test of reality. The job for our military would be more
difficult, our international standing would not improve, we would still
have the same responsibilities and terrorism will increase; certainly it
would not subside.
With fear and trepidation I wrote that Ashdod
and Kiryat Gat would come within range of rocket fire from Gaza, and I
could not have imagined that I had underestimated Hamas' capabilities in
this regard. I mentioned these two cities specifically because someone,
who was close to then-Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, told me that Sharon
himself had said the same thing about the significance of withdrawing
from Gaza, following a professional analysis of the matter. No
counter-affidavit was issued to the High Court by any professional, but
the court denied the appeal.
At the Herzliya Conference held prior to the
disengagement, I asked a few questions about the possibilities of
terrorism and rocket fire from Gaza after the withdrawal. The American
ambassador, incidentally, told me he was surprised at not hearing any
answers to my questions. I replied to him that he shouldn't be
surprised, those being asked don't have any answers, which is why they
aren't giving any.
When Sharon declared a Likud referendum over
the withdrawal, I lent my hand to the campaign. I had never been a party
member, but this time, I thought, I had to try making a difference. I
went from one party office to the next to speak with people. The Likud
voted against the prime minister's proposal, but he didn't accept the
majority's decision and split the party. The feeling was that Sharon
wasn't playing according to the rules of democracy, and the sense of
"insubordination" in the air at the time was growing more palpable,
mainly for the national religious sector, but certainly not only for
them. There were rabbis and public officials who gave their approval --
whether tacit or outright -- and many soldiers were heard saying: This
isn't what we enlisted for.
At that moment I recognized two things I
needed to do. One -- go out and explain, anywhere I could, why the prime
minister was wrong, and that the State of Israel would pay in blood for
the mistake he was making. I wasn't taking into consideration the
10,000 missiles that could reach from Hadera to Jerusalem, or the
tunnels that would be built underneath our communities, but I did
understand that the withdrawal would be perceived as a defeat -- and
whenever someone suffers a defeat in the Middle East, it does not matter
what his intentions were.
At that time I was going from one army unit to
the next, and in each visit I spoke out against the withdrawal. I
explained that although a unilateral withdrawal, in my opinion, was a
dangerous act of foolishness, refusing the order to carry it out would
be an even greater disaster. The army would lose its ability to
function, commanders and soldiers would decide on their own what to do
or not, and a country lacking a disciplined army can't have a future. If
the Right were to be allowed the right to refuse the expulsion order --
then the Left would have to be granted the same right not to protect
settlements. If one guy refuses because "it's un-Jewish" -- then the
next guy will refuse because "it's not moral," and so on and so forth --
until we lose the army.
At the end of one event, in which I told
soldiers from one of the Israel Defense Forces' most elite units why it
would be unbecoming to refuse the order, one of the troops came to me
and said: "You didn't convince me." I understood that this was the test
after that long evening with those soldiers. I asked him who his best
friend was in the squad and he pointed at someone. I called that soldier
over and asked him: If you receive the order to evacuate, will you do
it? Yes, he answered unequivocally. I told the soldier who I had failed
to convince: We can both agree that the mission to remove citizens from
their homes is like marching, while carrying a stretcher, in mud that
reaches up to your mouth. If you are not there with your friend under
that stretcher -- the mud will rise above his mouth, but if you are
there beside him, the mud will only reach his chin, what do you say? He
thought for a second and said, I'll carry out the order. The message got
across.
The importance of legitimacy
Two days before the disengagement operation an
acquaintance of mine asked to meet with me. He was a member of the IDF
General Staff's negotiating team, which would be responsible for tending
to the difficult incidents expected to arise during the operation, that
regular troops would be unable to resolve. I told him: Your team is
unnecessary. There won't be any use of force against the army, certainly
no firearms will be used, and the more time you give people to vent
their frustrations (warranted in my view), the less chance there will be
of any harsh clashes. He seemed skeptical, but in retrospect he
admitted I was right.
My lessons are fivefold:
1. For decisions like this, the government
must receive the widest possible support from the public. The peoples'
sense of having their voices stolen -- after receiving the faulty goods
sold to us in Oslo and the failure to fulfill promises made prior to the
Likud referendum -- has eroded the government's legitimacy. Under
certain conditions, this could lead to societal system failure, which
would include the army. Therefore national referendums must be held in
these situations; they ensure the most legitimacy. If there is
legitimacy, no orders will be disobeyed and resistance will be moderate.
2. Until Israel's final borders are
determined, we must take into account that we could find ourselves in
similar scenarios. No other organization in the country, other than the
army, is large enough to handle such a task. How do we go about it
without hurting the army? It's a good question that requires
consideration. There is no simple answer.
3. We cannot give decision-makers a free pass
just because public opinion shapers like those decisions. Efforts to
ingratiate oneself to the media to receive less criticism, could lead to
corruption and poor decisions.
4. We expect the decision-makers to explain
their decision, and not only after the fact. The fact that in this case
there was no organized statement, certainly no document in which the
prime minister explained his reasons, makes one wonder and leaves an
opening for rumors.
Today, too, after Sharon's tragic death, no
such document of his has been found in writing or on audio, thus my
assumption that no such explanation exists.
5. The civilian element, during the evacuation and
during the formulation of a worthy alternative for the residents, is
critical in any future situation, if we come to it. The current disgrace
must never be repeated.
Yaakov Amidror
Source: http://www.israelhayom.com/site/newsletter_article.php?id=27271
Copyright - Original materials copyright (c) by the authors.
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