Suddenly, Ideology Awakens: The Chair Wobbles, Principles Emerge | Yoram Dori

Ahead of the preparation of candidate lists for the Knesset, a kind of "Turkish bazaar" is developing in the parliament building. It is unclear whether this is a deep ideological struggle or a competition to see who will find shelter with an available chair first. Veteran Knesset members suddenly discover that their party no longer represents them. Yesterday, they were ready to swear that the party leader was the greatest leader since David Ben-Gurion; today, they discover to their astonishment that there are deep ideological disagreements between them.

The timing, to put it mildly, is interesting. After all, they understand that flattery towards the party leader will probably not secure them a realistic spot on the list. And then, miraculously, an ideological crisis breaks out. Or as I call it: a "chair-ological" crisis. For example, there is a Knesset member in the Likud named Dan Illouz. The man voted in favor of the judicial reform, and now he is leaving the Likud because he is actually against the reform.

I, of course, completely believe that a person is allowed to change their mind. On the contrary, the ability to say "I was wrong" is one of the most impressive traits in politics. The problem begins when the ideological shift occurs exactly on the date when it becomes clear that your chair on the list is in danger of extinction.

It is allowed to be disappointed in your party. It is allowed to discover that the party leader is not exactly what you thought. It is allowed to go through an ideological crisis. Politics is not a Catholic marriage. But there is a difference between a real change in positions and trading in positions.

Here, I find it hard not to remember the NBA. I watch basketball games from time to time, and sometimes I have no idea who is playing for which team. A player who was a sworn rival yesterday is wearing your shirt today. Tomorrow he will move to another team. And every time he scores a basket, he kisses the emblem on the shirt as if he had grown up in the club since the age of three. It happens in soccer too. A player scores a goal against the team he played for until two weeks ago, and a month later he scores a goal for it and kisses the emblem with excitement. Apparently, love for the emblem is a very flexible matter.

In Israeli politics, a similar free market has recently developed. The party is the team. The ideology is the shirt. And the chair is the contract. Only one thing has not changed: everyone tells us that they are doing it for the public.

Perhaps it is time for politicians to tell the truth too. "I no longer found myself in the party" — perfectly fine. "I believe the party was wrong and I am changing direction" — respectable. "I checked the list and realized I have no chance of being elected" — that is also a legitimate answer, and even a human one.

But when someone votes for something, praises it, extols its leader, and then, the moment it becomes clear that the chair is wobbling, suddenly reveals that he was actually always against it, it is hard not to suspect that it is not the ideology that has undergone a change. Only the address has changed. And the chair? It, of course, remains in the center.