The day Gaydamak reaps the harvest
Ha'aretz, November 20, 2006
By Daniel Ben Simon
From now on let every Hebrew mother and every Hebrew father know that the state of Israel has become a holding company. The sovereignty for which Jews longed for hundreds of years and for which generations of Israelis have struggled, has begun to take on the character of a Jewish village. In recent years, it has shed its responsibility for the welfare of its residents and transferred it to private bodies.
The residents of the North know this very well. In the summer, they became aware of the new substitutes for the state. In the most difficult hours there was no state official to heed their calls for help. Tens of thousands held out during the war thanks to dozens of private companies and voluntary organizations that provided food, drink, medicines, blankets, sweets, buses and money, as well as attention and sympathy.
The residents of Kiryat Malachi also know this. The city, which is a 30-minute drive from the center of the country, has known only one growth industry over the past decade: from zero soup kitchens a few years ago, it now has five and counting. Hundreds of families are receiving hot meals once a day thanks to voluntary organizations and commercial enterprises. The existence of almost the entire city depends on contributions, grants and charity. Under the state's stewardship, Kiryat Malachi, a significant city in Israel, home of its president and 20,000 other residents, has become one big soup kitchen. The state has left the arena.
Now comes Sderot to join the circle of communities dependent on the goodwill of others. For years its residents bewailed their poverty and distress. Political leaders took advantage of their innocence to win their votes. They promised industry, livelihood and security before the elections, and disappeared after them. Over the past five years, since the first volley of Qassams, the residents have hoped to receive some protection from the state. With time and more volleys, the protection wore down along with faith in the country. But the rockets did do one good thing for Sderot that its 50 years of existence did not manage to do: they opened the hearts of philanthropists, companies, organizations, better-off communities and of ordinary people who wanted to ease the residents' plight.
In the switching of roles between the state and the philanthropists, one lord stands out above the rest. It does not matter who Arcadi Gaydamak is and his motives are not important. It does not matter what he is aiming for and how he made his money; the worrisome fact is that in abdicating its responsibility, the state has turned this man into one of the most influential individuals in the country.
He is the true welfare minister where there is no welfare minister. The great extent of his generosity has outstripped that of the Diaspora Jews, high-tech tycoons, wealthy brokers, banking chiefs, the heads of the insurance companies and all the bodies that have recently entered into the vacuum created by the state.
The sight of the buses that took the children from Sderot on vacation to Eilat should have all of us in a panic. Hundreds of children were pushed by their parents to grab an empty seat on the buses the lord brought to their town. Those who did not get on wept bitterly.
How ironic that the man who could have granted a weekend, or two or three, of fun for the bombarded children of Sderot is a Sderot resident himself, and by coincidence also Israel's defense minister. Is it a problem for the Defense Ministry to organize 100 buses, or even 1,000 buses? Is it a problem for the defense minister, who controls more than NIS 50 billion, to organize a few hundred thousand shekels for this purpose? It is hardly the monetary equivalent of a few cluster bombs out of about a million we left in southern Lebanon as a vengeful souvenir of the failed war. Amir Peretz, who preached involvement of the state in the welfare of its weaker segments, also bears the burden of responsibility for the culture of the lords establishing itself in our lives.
Therefore, let no Hebrew mother nor Hebrew father be surprised if in a few years, Gaydamak takes advantage of the state's betrayal of its citizens to reap the profits of his philanthropy business. Let no one in Israel be surprised that during elections, there will be masses who will want to reward him for his great generosity - whether as president, prime minister, or party chief. It does not matter whether he knows Hebrew or not. It does not matter who his backers are. On the day the Israelis conclude that their country has become a village, they will pave the way for the famed philanthropist to stand at its head.
