Yesterday marked the death of Yossi Sarid. If he had known that this would open an article about him, he would probably be angry: Who is opening an article about him in cliché? A man of words was. When he wrote, the words had taste, while the words of others remained bland and dry. When he spoke, there was silence. A linguistic wealth that connects sharply and directly made his speeches into works of art.

There is hardly anyone in Israeli politics today who writes for themselves. Everyone, without exception, uses the services of professional writers, content companies, and PR people. Sarid never needed anyone to formulate his values ​​and worldview. And he never used words to produce persona or sympathy. On the contrary, the words were a tool for conveying Clear, sharp and uncompromising message.

Sarid had no "student" who could be blamed, nor did he ever need a "word taken out of context" sentence. He did not have to make statements, rephrase or pass on his comments to the media consultant to fix or round corners. His words always made it clear who he was: a left man, one who did not acquire values ​​but came with them from home.

"Leftist" has become a derogatory nickname that the USSR and the far right love to use and infect it for anyone who disagrees with them. They are those who oppose Netanyahu's reign, and since the death of Sarid and Shulamit Aloni, a strange process is taking place in Israel, there are far more leftists but far fewer leftists.

"The rule of law is not above the law" is the kind of sentence I wish Sarid had in life to respond to. And I wish we were here to respond to the laws of loyalty and nationality and immunity, with characteristic relentless, uncompromising, free of interests, brilliant and rich and creative. Today there is not one person on the Israeli left who can and can say things the way he would say them. Are we excited and sharing benign autumn speeches? For Sarid, she would barely scratch a passing grade.

Few are the politicians whose language and wealth of language are an integral part of their heritage. For politicians, Hebrew is not just a way of conveying a message or response, but of identity and belonging and love. On days when words like cigars and champagne became an integral part of the discourse, it is worth quoting one paragraph from Sarid's retirement speech on the day he left the Knesset: "I'm out of politics in the same shirt I came in. No stain, no stain. I called my father and asked him 'is your son's shirt?' - He will recognize and say 'Sure. My son is.'