The Honorable President of the Supreme Court Esther Hayut, how are you? Hear a story.
As of this writing, G., an old friend, is in the northern Gaza Strip. He commands a team of fighters. In a parallel universe, G. is a veteran jurist and a strong advocate of profound reform of the judicial system. T is his staff sergeant. Number 2 so-called. On the other hand, T. is a Kaplan man at every level and a particularly vocal opponent of everything the reform represents, and has never missed a demonstration.
Anyone who is a little involved knows how delicate and precise the conduct between the commander and his sergeant must be in a small team, certainly in times of combat, certainly when all the fighters are reservists and not young regulars. How does it work? Well, the way it's supposed to work. The two run a highly efficient team. They managed to eliminate countless terrorists, blow up houses and also get serious injuries and many visits to hospitals. Since the beginning of the war, G. says, reform issues did not come up even indirectly in almost any conversation, and when they did, the reference was always humorous and brief.
This happens partly because every member of the crew, who left families and businesses behind, doesn't even think about dealing with anything that has nothing to do with the war, and partly because of the basic human dimension – the realization that this is a delicate topic that would be inevitably stupid to harm to start discussing when the bullets whistle and when the brotherhood of warriors and their concern for each other are so embracing and blind to such issues.
When you see this team, like which there are so many, do you feel a certain apprehension? After all, until a few months ago you were at the center of things, the one who makes it clear again and again through court reporters and editorial spokesmen that the nation is divided into good and bad only, without a middle. You've seen division and hatred in the streets, and the truth is that it serves you – sorry – "democracy" – in the end. And suddenly there is war and everyone is only concerned with what is really important, and that thing is all of us. But really all of us. Each and every one from every place, political affiliation and place in Israel - all of us.
And her dignity, accustomed to be above, in the position of the sublime and impervious oracle. Do you want us to realize again that there are few things that scare you more than discovering that you are just like the rest of us? That you are another insignificant number within a large, historic collective that knows how to deal with what matters? That you, the President of the Supreme Court of the State of Israel, are one seat next to Danzig, managing a daily vehicle fleet? Because to knowingly decide to play with the laws of the Knesset right now at a time when the entire nation is in front is to decide to do the best you can to disintegrate and divide. To try to reach G. and T.'s team with supreme effort and tiptoe and remind them of everything that was wrong before that Shabbat. To damage the fabric and brotherhood of fighters built there.
Until a few months ago, you were at the center of things, the one that makes it clear again and again through court reporters and editorial spokesmen that the nation is divided into good and bad only, with no middle. You've seen division and hatred in the streets and the truth is that it serves you – sorry – "democracy" – in the end
Dear Esther, Please stop. Everyone stopped. Everybody. J. and T. and Rothman and Gantz and Levin. Only you don't. You may assume that your legacy will be a symbol like lightning, but the truth is that you will be more in the direction of Major General Aaron Haliwa. Please Esther, retire now, respectfully and with an opening for dialogue later. Just please, don't touch G.'s team. They already have enough trouble on their heads.
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