The transfer legacy

A year ago, when terrorists killed minister Rehavam Ze'evi, many people - including Ze'evi's most ardent opponents - were shocked. The murder of an Israeli minister, even if he believed in living by the sword and expelling Arabs, is a horrifying achievement for terrorism. Feelings of sorrow and mourning blurred the profile of the deceased, who preached a foul, condemnable political doctrine. A year later, it turns out that despite all the efforts, it has become impossible to distinguish between Ze'evi the man and his political doctrine.

Education Minister Limor Livnat's decision to require school principals to devote an hour of homeroom studies to mark "milestones in the Zionist enterprise interspersed with the activities and contributions of Ze'evi (may his memory be blessed)" is problematic and dangerous. From the educational perspective, it is impossible to distinguish the man from his legacy. Putting Ze'evi in the curriculum is the same as teaching his doctrine to Israeli pupils.

Livnat and her ministry's top officials claim "Ze'evi's character will be taught in the schools based on the values of his personality - knowledge of and love for the land, and loyalty to it." Even if this odd definition was innocently fashioned, it is outrageous. Ze'evi indeed was an amateur researcher of the history of the Land of Israel and an enthusiastic collector of books dealing with the country's history, but all that knowledge was enlisted to the cause of his extreme political view. Lovers of the land, far more knowledgeable than he was, such as Ze'evi Vilnai and Yigael Yadin, whose scientific and cultural contributions to the field are not disputed by either right or left, have not been so immortalized in the school curriculum.

Ze'evi was known as a Palmah soldier and a general in the army, but it was his controversial norms of behavior as a commander, not a legacy as a great combatant, that he left behind in his military service. More than once his behavior was an embarrassment to his talent: He transformed his knowledge of the history of the Land of Israel into a despicable world view, while his sociable nature turned into friendship with criminal elements.

Ze'evi became the representative of an extremist minority. The political party he founded, Moledet, has a platform that included a chapter espousing the "separation of peoples and populations (transfer)," including expulsion during war. These twisted views distanced Ze'evi from authentic rightists, such as Benny Begin, who even refused to join the Netanyahu government as long as Ze'evi belonged to it. The dark cloud of his transfer doctrine shadowed his personality during all his years of political activism. Regrettably, disappointment in the peace process according to the Oslo agreements, and recent waves of terrorism, make it easier now for the transfer idea to seep into the public consciousness.

A discussion of the "Ze'evi heritage" therefore could result in dangerous legitimacy for the idea of transfer, especially if it is taught to pupils who naturally are not equipped with historical knowledge and the analytical and critical tools to deal with the meaning of the concept. Ze'evi's doctrine is inherently out of bounds, as a dangerous pollutant of Zionism. A murdered politician is not necessarily a national hero; and transfer, even when saturated with love of the land, is a condemnable legacy.