Twenty years after Gush Katif: Lessons we must learn

This post was originally published in the Times of Israel at: https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/twenty-years-after-gush-katif-lessons-we-must-learn/

Two weeks from now, on the Hebrew calendar, will mark twenty years since one of the most divisive and painful chapters in modern Israeli history: the so-called “Disengagement” from Gush Katif, other parts of the Gaza Strip, and the northern Shomron (it was also known by other, more ideologically charged, terms, such as “uprooting,” “evacuation,” and “expulsion”). Twenty years ago this month, Israeli soldiers and police forcibly removed over 8,000 Jews from their homes, dismantled thriving communities, and handed the territory over to the Palestinian Authority. Less than two years later, the Gaza Strip was to fall under Hamas control.

I remember those orange (the color chosen by the anti-Disengagement protestors) and blue (used by those supporting the plan) t-shirts and ribbons, the passionate demonstrations, the tears, and the profound sense that our nation was being torn apart.

Many Israelis (including me) believed at the time that this was a catastrophic mistake. Others genuinely thought it would bring peace and security. Today, in the aftermath of the October 7, 2023 massacre, I want to examine what we can learn from that painful period – lessons that are desperately relevant as we navigate our current challenges.

Lesson one: Face reality, acknowledge mistakes

The most obvious lesson may also be, for some, the most uncomfortable one: the Disengagement was a huge strategic error.

At the time, Prime Minister Ariel Sharon promised that after the withdrawal, the IDF would redeploy along the border with the Gaza Strip, thereby reducing friction and danger to our troops. He promised us a much safer and calmer reality than the terrorism and violence that had been directed against Israeli soldiers and civilians inside Gaza. Turning a previous ultra-right-wing slogan on its head, he declared: “We will be here, they will be over there, and there will be peace in Israel.”

Instead, though, we got thousands of rockets, multiple military campaigns, terror tunnels, and, ultimately, the October 7 massacre, launched from the very territory we evacuated. This required us to reinvade the Gaza Strip, leading to hundreds of additional IDF casualties over the past 22 months.

Those who supported the Disengagement twenty years ago – and I understand why many did, given our genuine desire for peace and the burden of protecting isolated communities – need to acknowledge this reality. There’s no shame in admitting that a policy one once supported turned out to be wrong. One should be ashamed, though, of refusing to learn from clear evidence.

This isn’t about saying “I told you so” or scoring political points. It’s about intellectual honesty and the humility necessary for better decision-making in the future. If we can’t acknowledge obvious mistakes, how can we avoid repeating them?

Lesson two: Slow down the decision-making process

The Disengagement plan was rushed through the Knesset and government with breathtaking speed, allowing insufficient time for proper public debate or consideration of alternatives.

Sharon first revealed his plan in December 2003. By October 2004, it had passed the Knesset, and it was carried out less than a year later, in August 2005. Extremely momentous strategic decisions, with irreversible results dramatically affecting the lives of thousands of people and the security of the entire nation, were made in less than a year, with minimal public debate and no calm, reasoned discussion.

This was not an isolated exception; it is an unfortunate pattern in Israeli governance. The Oslo Accords, for example, were negotiated in secret and presented to the public as a fait accompli, then also rushed through the Knesset with a narrow majority of questionable legitimacy. More recently, from the other end of the political spectrum, the current government’s attempt to pass its far-reaching judicial reform process was also pushed forward rapidly without any real attempt at consultation, compromise, or consensus-building, before being halted by the disaster of October 7.

We must learn to slow down. Major decisions that will shape Israel’s future for decades deserve months or years of careful deliberation, not the rushed timelines that our political system seems to prefer. The urgency of the matters we deal with doesn’t justify abandoning reasoned debate and discussion – to the contrary, it makes thoughtful decision-making even more crucial.

Lesson three: Peaceful protest within red lines

Twenty years ago, despite the intensity of emotions and their feelings of having been betrayed, the protesters managed to do something remarkable: they maintained their restraint. There were passionate demonstrations, even including some mild and limited civil disobedience, and heartbreaking scenes of resistance. However, for example, when some protesters called for soldiers to refuse orders, the mainstream rabbinic and political leadership of the settlement movement decisively rejected such calls. When the moment of truth arrived, almost all soldiers carried out their duties, and the residents allowed themselves to be removed peacefully and with dignity, even as they protested and wept.

This wasn’t weakness on the part of the anti-Disengagement community – it was strength. It was the recognition that there are red lines that must not be crossed, even in the face of what we believed was a terrible injustice. In spite of the incredible strain on our society, our country remained united, the army remained intact, and democracy survived.

I fear we’ve lost some of that restraint. On all sides of our current debates – over hostage deals, judicial reform, haredi military service, and other divisive issues – I see much less willingness to accept democratic outcomes, less respect for our legal institutions, and more rhetoric that treats political opponents as enemies of the state. The lessons of 2005 remind us that we can disagree passionately while still maintaining the basic bonds that hold our society together.

Lesson four: Take care of those who were sacrificed

Perhaps the most shameful aspect of the Disengagement was how poorly the government treated those who were uprooted. Families who had spent decades building homes and businesses found themselves in temporary housing for years. Farmers who had created agricultural miracles in the sand lost their livelihoods. Compensation was inadequate, bureaucracy was endless, and many never fully recovered. Even – some would say especially – those who supported the plan then should have done much more to prevent this injustice to the people who were made to bear the burden of the decision.

Today, we face similar challenges regarding the many newly bereaved families, wounded soldiers (including those with physical injuries and other less visible ones with mental health challenges such as PTSD), evacuees from the Gaza Envelope communities, residents of the north whose homes were destroyed, and more recently, those whose homes were damaged by Iranian missiles. We have an opportunity to do better this time – to demonstrate that when Israelis are compelled to make sacrifices for the collective good, that collective takes care of them properly and promptly.

This isn’t just about money, though adequate compensation matters. It’s about treating people with respect, recognizing their pain, and ensuring that their contribution to the national cause isn’t repaid with abandonment or neglect.

Looking forward

Twenty years later, the pain of the Disengagement remains real for many people. But if we can extract meaningful lessons from that experience – intellectual honesty about our mistakes, more deliberative decision-making, peaceful protest within democratic bounds, and proper care for those who sacrifice – then perhaps something constructive can emerge from that tragedy.

Our enemies want to divide us. They celebrate when we turn on each other, when we lose faith in our institutions, when we abandon the solidarity that has always been our secret weapon. The anniversary of the Disengagement reminds us that we’ve weathered severe internal divisions before and emerged stronger, but only when we maintained our fundamental commitment to each other and to the democratic values that define us.

We face profound challenges ahead: the war, the hostages, the haredi draft, the potential return of judicial reform, and numerous other issues that will test our unity. But we also possess something our enemies lack: a long and rich history that has taught us the value of unity and the importance of learning from our mistakes. We can and must remind ourselves how to debate fiercely while remaining family, and to emerge from crisis with renewed purpose.

That’s not just our hope for the future – it’s our obligation to those who sacrificed for us twenty years ago, and to those who continue to do so today.