They go to the ballot boxes on Tuesday. A harsh ambush at a dangerous turn. It is an opportunity for the disappointed and the resentful. They have sharpened their knives. The lust for revenge gleams in their eyes. Daggers peek out from beneath their leaders’ smiles. The scent of vengeance, both old and new. They want me defeated. They want me imprisoned. They want me a corpse.
I will not preempt the results. The party of the loyal stands ready, striving to shield both their leader and the nation from defeat. I will not accuse the electorate of ingratitude; it suffices to say that memories are short. Some polls have promised them a festival of hatred, though I remain hopeful that this celebration will be deferred. Yet one cannot afford to overestimate the wisdom of the voters.
History speaks volumes. The French public turned their backs on Charles de Gaulle in his own referendum, prompting him to pack his papers and retreat to his village, preferring the bitter solitude of a writer to the aura of the presidency. I am no writer and penning memoirs holds no allure for me. I am a boxer whose destiny is to stay in the ring, trading punches. British voters similarly betrayed Winston Churchill after he led them to victory in the Second World War, subjecting him to six grueling years before he managed to reclaim 10 Downing Street.
Israeli political life is a jungle. Hatred from enemies and backstabbing from allies. A merciless duel, steeped in cunning, deception and malice. The strongman is neither loved nor wanted. They prefer ordinary figures who can be brushed aside at the first crossroads. They prefer those who leave no footprint on history. The political atmosphere is toxic and the voter is sometimes overcome by naivete. They forget what you achieved in the existential war, only to reproach you for the price of a canister of gasoline or the price of tomatoes.
In this slaughterhouse, journalists must not be forgotten. By nature, they are malicious creatures. They hate the strongman and see no path to advancement except over his corpse. They infiltrate a man’s career, scouting it for a slip-up, and if they unearth a scandal, his blood gleams on their fangs as they begin to dance. Journalists are dangerous creatures. They inject poison into the veins of public opinion, training it to turn against the decision-maker and plot against him. Some believe that a powerful ruler provokes ordinary people simply because he demands their engagement in grand battles.
It is hard for me to believe that Israel’s voters will choose Gadi Eisenkot. This man is no Yitzhak Rabin, who entered East Jerusalem on June 7, 1967, nor is he Ariel Sharon, the mastermind of the Deversoir operation who also led the Israeli army into that incubator of dangers known as Beirut. He is not even Ehud Barak, whose chest can barely accommodate his array of medals.
There is no glory in a legendary boxer defeating an opponent with no history, yet how bitter a defeat against him would be. His electoral capital is drawn far more from those who despise Benjamin Netanyahu than from those who admire Eisenkot. As a former chief of staff with no resounding triumphs on his record, his style is dry and his public presence lacks charisma. I do not deny that his son fell fighting in Gaza or that close relatives met the same fate, but that alone is not enough to hand him the seals of power.
My story is different. I was born in a state that has shared its bed with danger since its inception. I learned my first lesson from my historian father. I learned my second when my brother, Yonatan, an officer, returned as a corpse from Entebbe after helping liberate the passengers of a civilian airliner hijacked on the orders of Wadie Haddad. Haddad is fortunate that I was not the decision-maker at the time; had I been, the causes of his death would not have been shrouded in mystery.
I studied at America’s most prestigious universities and grasped the secret behind that country’s superiority. I worked at our embassy in Washington, sensing the constant need for a great America, and served as my country’s ambassador to the UN, where I realized the fragility of its statements and the emptiness of its written resolutions.
If only voters would refresh their memories. On Oct. 7, 2023, Yahya Sinwar unleashed the “Flood.” While the security failure was undeniable, I refused to clear the way for an investigative committee that would bind the hands of the government and the military. Instead, I ordered that the flood be turned back upon those who launched it. I ask the voter: Where are Sinwar and his brother Mohammed now? Where are Mohammed Deif and Marwan Issa? Ismail Haniyeh mistakenly believed that taking refuge in the Revolutionary Guard’s stronghold in Tehran would protect him, but it did not.
I vowed to eliminate everyone connected to the flood and I kept my word. I targeted the top leadership, their children and their grandchildren. I reduced Gaza to a sea of rubble and tents. No one has killed as many Palestinians as I have. This is a narrow land, too small to accommodate two states or two peoples.
If only voters would refresh their memories. On Oct. 8, Lebanese Hezbollah launched a support war for Gaza. I ask the voter: Where are Hassan Nasrallah, Hashem Safieddine, Fuad Shukr, Ibrahim Aqil and Ali Karaki now? I transferred the Gaza experience to the “security zone” in southern Lebanon, where our forces are currently stationed, and they will not depart until Hezbollah is disarmed. Israel’s security takes precedence over all else. We were not lenient with Bashar Assad and we will not be lenient with Ahmad Al-Sharaa.
Will the voter forget that the Mossad stole the Iranian nuclear archive, leading Donald Trump to withdraw from Barack Obama’s agreement days later? The master of the White House recognized the scale of the Iranian threat and ordered the assassination of Qassem Soleimani, the sponsor of the proxies that dreamed of delivering the “grand strike” against Israel. Will the voter forget that I ordered the assassination of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, along with his top generals and nuclear scientists, and that Israeli aircraft occupied the skies of Tehran?
Could a man of Eisenkot’s caliber have convinced Trump to go to war against Iran? Could he have waged war on multiple fronts and replicated the experience of “security zones” on the territories of others? Does the voter have the right to remove me from my office while the hurricane of a new war approaches? I demand that they give me a chance to complete my mission in Iran, as well as my existential war in the West Bank.
The daggers of my enemies gleam. They want to see me imprisoned, forgetting that I am not Ehud Olmert. They use a handful of gifts and violations as a pretext. On Tuesday, they go to the ballot boxes. Another chapter begins. The verdict of the ballot boxes leaves no footprint on the deliberations of the court of history.
Ghassan Charbel is editor-in-chief of Asharq Al-Awsat newspaper. This article first appeared in Asharq Al-Awsat. X: @GhasanCharbel