Solidarity has ended: The silence of the 'Democrats' members regarding Einav Zangauker says it all | Kinneret Barashi

There is a moment when politics ceases to be a struggle over ideas. The public confrontation between Yair Golan and Einav Zangauker reveals a particularly disturbing picture. Not just of a promise unkept, but of the way in which immense human pain becomes a temporary political asset: they embrace it when it is useful, take pictures with it when it generates headlines, use its voice when it provides energy to the camp—and then, when it asks to be a true partner, they suddenly remember 'principles'.

Zangauker wrote that at a meeting held in February at the campaign headquarters, after days of discussions about the possibility of her running, Golan offered her a reserved spot on his list. She trusted him, he asked to keep things secret, she kept her word, he did not. His promise evaporated, the connection was cut, and instead of an answer came silence. Golan did not deny it. He found an excuse for the dismissal and the use of Zangauker as a 'principle' that was born suddenly so as not to hurt the other party members and the voters who chose everyone except Zangauker.

Yair wanted to give her a consolation prize with a salary attached and promised her activity in the campaign. But that is exactly the heart of the matter: Einav Zangauker did not ask to be just another activist in the campaign. She suddenly wanted to wear a suit, to sit in the back seat of a government car with a driver, an office, secretaries, advisors, a spokesperson, a respectable salary — these are not things Yair Golan will give to someone who chained herself, screamed, cursed, threatened. No, the party members and the functionaries do not want Zangauker. They wanted her pain and her crudeness in order to incite, divide, and harm the efforts to return the hostages. From the perspective of the 'Democrats', Einav is not suitable to sit around the decision-making table; she no longer has anything to trade politically.

It is important to say this unequivocally: there is no criticism here of Zangauker's pain. Anyone who has not gone through what the parents of the hostages are going through has no right to lecture them on the right way to hurt, to fear, to cry out, or to fight. This is a pain that no one wishes on anyone, but pain does not grant an exemption from public criticism of the method. Zangauker's voice has been a crude, inflammatory, and violent voice throughout the recent period. It contained harsh statements, humiliations, accusations, and insults intended not only to persuade but also to crush. There were moments when the discourse that came out of her mouth crossed the boundaries of legitimate disagreement and turned into a language that the ear cannot and should not get used to.

One can oppose this style vehemently. One can say that it alienates, divides, and uglifies the public sphere. One can also wonder how it happens that a camp that claims to speak in the name of sensitivity and public responsibility chose again and again to give a stage, resonance, and encouragement precisely to such a style. Golan knew that Einav was considering her political steps. The promise of a reserved spot caused her to wait and not act on an independent path. His answer, as if Golan gave up his personal power for the sake of party democracy, is nothing less than an insult to the intelligence of Golan's voters.

If Zangauker were truly perceived by party members as a leader they want to see in the Knesset, if they saw in her more than a useful tool for moments of protest, someone would have stood up, whether from the voters or the elected officials. Someone would have pounded on the table and said to Golan: 'You promised — deliver!' Someone would have demanded that the woman whose voice accompanied the camp, and whose life's pain became an inseparable part of his campaign, not be thrown aside just when she asks for a place at the decision-making table. But no man or woman stood up, no one pounded on the table, no one set a political price for Golan. And this silence says it all.

It says that Einav Zangauker was welcome as long as her voice was loud, crude, shaking, and mobilizing. As long as she provided rage, tears, confrontations, incitement, curses, and headlines. As long as it was possible to ride on her pain to sharpen lines, increase the audience, ignite protest, and mark enemies. But party leadership? Influence? A realistic spot? There, it turns out, the solidarity ended. This column is not a criticism of Zangauker's conduct, but of the conduct of the 'Democrats' who did nothing but use her pain when it served a political interest, and then show moral revulsion toward her the moment she asks for power of her own.

Anyone who seeks to lead a camp must understand: people are not a disposable tool. Certainly not parents of hostages who placed personal trust in him and, according to her, shaped her steps based on his word. Einav Zangauker did not have to be 'convenient' to be worthy of honesty. The great failure here is not just Golan's; it is of everyone who applauded her pain and her curses when it was useful, but was silent when it turned out she wanted to be more than the screaming and crude face of a campaign that rode on the pain of the hostages all the way.