Over the weekend, Community Empowerment Minister Orly Levy-Abekasis uttered forbidden words, words that even speaking will almost certainly make the speaker the target of racist attacks and overblown accusations.
When asked in an interview to Israel Hayom about leaving the left-wing camp that supposedly brought her into the Knesset, she said that during the campaign, there had "been an event to 'continue Rabin's path.' I didn't go. They asked where Orly Levy was. I said: Rabin was yours, not mine. It has nothing to do with me.'"
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Levy-Abekasis has stepped on a lot of mines since she first entered politics. Her tendency to zig and then zag has aroused outrage, which is sometimes justified, but by touching the phrase "Rabin legacy" she drew curses and insults that made the anger toward her thus far seem like the chirping of crickets. She, in response, held to the heretical line when she clarified, "I have no intention of apologizing. Rabin's legacy is not mine," while expressing loathing for his murder.
Among other things, Haaretz's TV critic called Levy a "short-lived guava whose smell is nauseating." Former IDF Spokesperson Avi Benayahu accused her of nodding her head toward the people who incite against Rabin, and wrote "This woman, unfortunately, pollutes the Kneset and desecrates the memory of Yitzhak Rabin." Other remarks similar in content and style poured forth from Twitter users, journalists, and politicians.
Levy is the latest person to come under fire for daring to say something as basic as "I didn't agree with the man's path, but his murder was despicable," but she is far from the first. Historian Dr. Uri Milstein was barred from academic circles after he wrote a book that dared to criticize Rabin's path, and teacher Yisrael Shiran was suspended after he tried to distinguish between the murder and the legacy. Eventually, Shiran was compensated.
In the 25 years since the terrible assassination, there has been an attempt to transform the Rabin legacy from something unclear that included glorious chapters alongside controversial moves to a shadow that hangs over the murder. Condemnation, criticism, and introspection are not enough; if you don't embrace the foggy legacy, you're one of "them." The inciters, the violent, the rotten guavas.
Yitzhak Rabin was an Israeli patriot, a warrior and a commander and a prime minister who wanted what was best for the country, but he was not a saint, and like all leaders of his stature, he also had weaknesses, disadvantages, and flaws. One may and even should criticize him, his path, and his actions – now known as his "legacy" – while also loathing his murder and the incitement that preceded it. It is possible to believe that the Oslo Accords were a disaster without being considered an accessory to murder, and it's fine to think that the handling of the First Intifada was too violent or too gentle, without being tagged as a supporter of political violence.
Turning an oath of allegiance to Rabin's path into a precondition for condemning his murder creates a camp around an issue that an almost concrete majority of the Israeli public thinks the same. Paradoxically, it also hurts the battle against political violence: in order for the different camps to hold a debate, especially in the current climate, legitimate opinions must not be rejected and declared out-of-bounds.
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