The 13-minute film Yesh Atid chairman Yair Lapid uploaded to Facebook six days ago, supposedly of "the party summit" but in reality was a celebration marking the 10-year anniversary of the party's inception, will certainly provide ample source material for political researchers and writers.
What we saw was classic "Lapidism" – a virtual event with a flag, logo, sharp graphics, impressive rhetoric, a masterclass on appearing before a camera, messages about the future of our children and grandchildren, a bit of finely-tuned humor, intimate family stories, and "name dropping" in the vein of "Rosy Shtauber, a Holocaust survivor who will receive what she deserves."
Lapid said the party "was here to stay," and vowed it "will be here even after we're gone." He believed himself and, admittedly, he's done quite well. But then the last half-year came along, and with it control of the government, ruining everything. One decade of Yesh Atid can be summarized in four words: "huge success; resounding failure."
Lapid succeeded where almost everyone else failed, in establishing a real political party. The Israeli political landscape has known countless "mood parties" – centrist parties that disappear from the political map in short order. There was Shinui, created by Lapid's father, Tommy, the Pensioners' party, Kadima, Moshe Kahlon's Kulanu party, and more. They all reached commendable heights and were erased within a matter of years. Lapid, on the other hand, has managed to build a living, bustling party, with 133 active local headquarters, dozens of regional headquarters and tens of thousands of voters. When it comes to Israeli politics, this is a huge success.
Not everything is peachy, however. For an entire decade, in every election campaign, interview, speech, party conference or meeting, Lapid extolled a "different type of politics." He spoke of politics that would be "new," "clean," "honest." And then he attained power.
In just six months, Yair Lapid has broken almost every single campaign promise he made. He promised a government with only 18 ministers and established one with 28. He opposed the Norwegian Law – which stipulates that a minister may step down from his position, allowing for another member of his party to take his place, all the while maintaining his position in the government – yet the current government increased the number of "Norwegians." He fought against the allocation of coalition funds, which he dubbed "dirty deals," yet his party took the largest portion of those funds (NIS 41 million), including funds earmarked for taking care of street cats. He lambasted ministers for being lazy – but he himself didn't show up at a meeting of the coronavirus cabinet. He assailed nepotism, and then his sister-in-law was appointed to a powerful yet volunteer post on the KKL-JNF board of directors and another relative was appointed to a position in the World Zionist Organization.
In Israeli politics, predicting even one day into the future is a fool's errand, although it's safe to say, roughly estimating, that Yesh Atid's next decade has considerable potential. In two years, Lapid will enter the Prime Minister's Office, where security issues and pandemics can either bolster him significantly or destroy him. Ultimately, however, it's doubtful Lapid can keep his promise of a "different type of politics" anymore.
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