Starting next week, we will gradually be exposed to many events marking the 26th anniversary of the assassination of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin.
Here come days, and they will not be pleasant.
The days between the beginning of Cheshvan and the beginning of November have long since become terrible days of tension and mutual suspicion between the left and the right.
How did we get this far?
To answer this one has to focus on the division between the national center camp versus what can be called: the handful camp.
The National Center camp includes members of the cautious and optimistic majority; Some are inclined to the right and some are to the left, but most of their identity is in the Zionist Center; Good people in the middle of the road. For them, Rabin was the six-day chief of staff, a patriot, a security guard.
In the handful of camps, a kicking minority formed in the early 1990s. Following the victory of the Labor Party in 1992, its people began to fight for a forceful and manipulative assimilation of the peace agenda (in the religious, uncontrolled sense) into the heart of the ruling party. Many of them are cultural and media figures who have screwed up in key positions, all have pretensions and abilities in the field of consciousness engineering. Unlike the human diversity typical of the national center camp, the handful is characterized by uniformity resulting, among other things, from rigid management that imposes sanctions on those who are not similar, and alternatively grants royalties in favor of the straighteners. In the days after the murder they were shocked, angry and vowed to take revenge and boycott. Even a tenth generation will not come in their audience.
Here is a story that testifies in a nutshell to the political culture of the handful of camps. In an interview with Rafi Reshef, actor Tal Musari testified that in about 1994 he showed up with a group of young people for rehearsals ahead of the Independence Day eve show, where Rabin and the chief of staff were expected to be present. "We are the children of the winter of '73," they said, looking straight at the chief of staff and the prime minister. Indeed, on the appointed evening, a moral dew addressed Rabin, and the tone of a boy addressing his father explained in melody: "You promised a dove, an olive leaf." In the days that followed, Musari testified, Rabin hummed the song from time to time. The rest is a bloody history: winters of inferno attacks, death and bereavement.
While for the national center camp Rabin was a statesman, a warrior and chief of staff recruited for his people, for the handful he was nothing but a tool recruited for purposes beyond him and his people. In the days of the Messiah heralding a global world without national borders, a world of brotherhood of peoples.
For this purpose, they appropriated Rabin during his lifetime and his legacy after his death. In fact, they stripped Rabin of his security cloak, and so Rabin was taken from us not only physically - as a person and a leader - but also as a symbol of consensual securityism.
The three shots fired that Saturday night provided moral oxygen to the handful of camps, by virtue of which they fortified the boundaries of the camp and the illusion bubble for many years.
The result: even after 26 years, the Rabin memorial events do not fulfill their purpose as a means of establishing consensus and uniting around national mourning.
In practice, they present the polarization and tension.
The bubble should be blown, and beautiful one hour earlier.