The rape allegations against the President are just the latest in a long
line of political scandals
Richard Miron in Jerusalem
Sunday October 22, 2006
The Observer
On a smooth, trimmed lawn, Israel's tuneful police band entertained the
thousands of visitors who trooped though the President's residence in
Jerusalem during a recent open day. But few of the onlookers missed the
irony that President Moshe Katsav could face a less festive visit by the
police if the country's attorney-general decides to indict him on
charges of rape, sexual harassment, illegal wiretapping and fraud.
For his supporters who came to shake the President's hand, it was a
political witch hunt. But for others outside the President's residence,
such as Naomi Schneidermann from the Association of Rape crisis centres
in Israel who came to call for his resignation, it was yet another
shameful episode involving the country's leadership: 'I think this
affair has done terrible damage not only to the particular office of
President but also in the message we are sending to our citizens.'
For months police have been investigating Israel's head of state
following revelations that a woman employee at the presidential office
alleged that he had raped her. A string of other women came forward with
similar allegations, all of which Katsav has strenuously denied.
Katsav is the most recent and most senior figure to have been caught up
in a swath of scandals that have cut through Israeli public life. On a
single day last week, two former justice ministers began separate
trials. Chaim Ramon, who served until recently in the current
government, is charged with forcibly kissing a young female soldier, and
his predecessor, Tzachi Hanegbi, is also in court following allegations
of making illegal political appointments.
Public disgust at the country's leaders, both political and military,
has reached a peak following the recent war in Lebanon, which many
Israelis believe was mismanaged. Many feel that there is a link between
the succession of scandals involving sex, money and fraud and the war.
Now Israelis are angrily questioning what has gone wrong. Jerusalem has
become a focal point for their despair and frustration. There is a
palpable sense of division between the people, the politicians and the
generals.
Outside the heavily protected Prime Minister's office, by a busy
junction, is a tent made of banners calling on Prime Minister Ehud
Olmert, along with his Defence Minister and Army Chief of Staff, to
resign. Activists sitting in plastic chairs in the sun wear T-shirts
emblazoned with the words: 'A people of heroes - A government of
cowards.' Ari Shavit, a columnist for the liberal Haaretz newspaper, has
described 'a tremendous gap [between] the worst of Israeli society at
the very top and the energy, creativity and resilience of ordinary
Israelis'.
Israel's politicians and generals were once seen as puritanical figures
devoted to the national good. David Ben Gurion the nation's revered
first Prime Minister, chose to retire to a kibbutz in the desert. Today
many Israelis contrast that with recent former leaders who appear to
prefer the comfort of the lecture tour circuit and lucrative consultancies.
In the early years of the Jewish state, collectivism and aestheticism
were embraced by the socialist establishment that ruled the country. But
in the past 20 years Israel has become wealthier and more
individualistic. Israelis have long desired normality in their personal
lives as well as their politics.
Many now believe that the perceived weakness of their leadership may be
a symptom of that change. Dan Halutz, the Army Chief of Staff, was
reported to have sold his shares portfolio on the first day of the
Lebanon war. While he did nothing illegal, his actions caused an outcry,
not simply because he was involved in looking after his personal
finances at a time of national crisis but also because it was thought
that a senior military figure should not have been concerned in any way
with personal enrichment.
Israelis from opposite ends of the political spectrum find themselves
united in their shared sense of disillusionment. At a candlelit rally
last week in central Jerusalem left-wingers bearing the banners of the
anti-occupation Meretz organisation stood alongside members of Bnei
Akiva, a religious youth organisation which strongly supports the Jewish
settlements in the West Bank.
The rally had been called to demonstrate for a state inquiry into the
conduct of the war. But for many it was more about expressing
dissatisfaction with the direction of the country as a whole. 'We want
our children to grow up and be proud of what's happening and to be part
of something positive, and I don't feel that at the moment,' said Helen
Lowenstein, who works in education. One of her three children is in the
army and she said that she had grown used to the corruption of the
politicians but had come to the rally because 'now it's even entered the
army'.
Yet there are those who believe that the leadership crisis may provide
an opportunity for change. Shavit believes 'there is a reasonable chance
for change for the better' as ordinary people who have been put off
politics now become involved to improve matters.
The Movement for Quality Government in Israel, an organisation with
20,000 members, believes that the public may now be receptive to its
message of constitutional reform.
Others perceive a growing fatigue within Israeli society. A well-known
sociologist in Jerusalem describes the situation as grim, but adds that
he believes in 'the politics of hope'.
For ordinary Israelis this appears to be an unusual time. They feel as
though they have been cast adrift from their leaders. One man
demonstrating outside the President's residence in Jerusalem said he has
come 'because I am pained and lonely because of the government that
forgot me'.
The question is whether his actions, and those of others, will be enough
to heal the breach between the leaders and the people of Israel.