JPost: 20 years later – Lessons from Gaza Disengagement and Tisha B’Av
By Yaakov Katz
There was speculation – and even open accusations – that prime minister Ariel Sharon had conceived of the initiative to deflect criminal investigations and avoid indictment. Knowing what we know now, shouldn’t we, at the very least, acknowledge the possibility that some of those protesters [opposing the Gaza withdrawal] were right? Shouldn’t we, perhaps, apologize?
(Auugst 1, 2025 / J Post) Twenty years ago this Sunday, I got into my little Mazda sedan and drove down to the border with the Gaza Strip. It was Tisha B’Av, the annual day of mourning for the destruction of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem, and that night, the IDF began entering the Gaza Strip to distribute eviction orders ahead of the planned, forceful withdrawal of Israeli residents from the Gush Katif settlement bloc in what was known as the “Disengagement Plan.”
At the time, most Israelis supported the move. There was speculation – and even open accusations – that prime minister Ariel Sharon had conceived of the initiative to deflect criminal investigations and avoid indictment. But for the most part, there was a prevailing sense in the country that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict had hit a dead end, the status quo was untenable, and that something bold was needed.
Disengagement from Gaza was framed as that step. It had the support of the Bush administration in Washington, was welcomed in European capitals, and was backed by much of Israel’s security and political establishment. The thinking was clear: Evacuating Israeli civilians and soldiers from a territory long plagued by ambushes, funerals, and unending violence would reduce friction and maybe – just maybe – create space for a new peace process.
In the lead-up to the disengagement, a series of deadly attacks seared themselves into the national conscience. One stood out in particular. In May 2004, Tali Hatuel – eight months pregnant – and her four daughters, residents of the Katif settlement, were murdered in cold blood as they drove near the Kissufim crossing. The image of their car riddled with bullets became a defining moment in the national debate.
Still, not everyone agreed with the plan. Protests erupted across the country. Activists opposed to the pullout blocked roads, marched in orange shirts, and warned of disaster. They were labeled “messianic,” “delusional,” and “dangerous.” The mainstream media often dismissed them. Senior officials in the IDF and Shin Bet (Israel Security Agency) warned of a fringe “messianic militancy” that could turn violent.
One case became emblematic: Two female high school students who had blocked a road as part of a protest were arrested and asked the High Court of Justice for permission to leave jail temporarily to take their math matriculation exam. The court refused. The message was clear: Protesters against the disengagement were not to be granted leniency or legitimacy. Media commentators piled on. They described the protesters as hysterical zealots and cult-like nationalists living in a messianic delusion. Looking back, it’s hard not to reflect on how easily the protesters were dismissed, how reflexively we categorized a large segment of Israeli society as extremists rather than concerned citizens acting on their conscience.
And now, 20 years later, as Israel marks both the Hebrew anniversary of the disengagement and Tisha B’Av, the day on which we mourn the destruction brought about by sinat hinam – internal strife and baseless hatred – it is worth asking: Were the protesters truly wrong? Were they really delusional?
No one could have known for certain back in 2005 what would happen next, how just two years later, Hamas would violently seize control of Gaza and that it would spend the next decade and a half building a terror army, culminating in the October 7 massacre. But knowing what we know now, shouldn’t we, at the very least, acknowledge the possibility that some of those protesters were right?
Shouldn’t we, perhaps, apologize?
And what about the courts? Were the judges justified in rejecting those students’ request to take their exam? Was it necessary to be so punitive toward young people engaged in civil disobedience?
The question is even more relevant today, ever since the judicial reform protests broke out three years ago. After the government unveiled its plan, protesters – dubbed the “Kaplanists” – regularly blocked roads and intersections. The Ayalon Freeway was shut down more times than can be counted.
Did they get the same treatment as the disengagement protesters, or did the latter’s opposition simply get delegitimized because it did not fit into the dominant political narrative?
I ASK these questions not as a bystander but as one of this newspaper’s leading reporters in covering the disengagement and the protests that preceded it. I covered the demonstrators, often quoting the terms used by security officials. I reported on the “danger” the activists allegedly posed and of the violence that was warned about but, of course, never came.
Two decades later, can we – as a nation – potentially learn from that chapter in our history? Can we reflect, with honesty and humility, about how we treat dissenting voices, how quickly we delegitimize those who challenge the mainstream, and the corrosive effect of political polarization?
These questions matter now more than ever, especially this week, as we mark both the disengagement’s anniversary and Tisha B’Av.
Our rabbis teach that the Temples were destroyed not by foreign armies alone, but by internal division, sinat hinam, and a Jew raising a hand and a voice against another Jew. We may not yet be at the brink of violence, but are we not already in the throes of dangerous division?
A recent poll by the Tzohar Rabbinical Organization found that half of Israelis have either cut off or considered cutting off ties with friends or family members due to political disagreements. Only 28% said they attempt to reach a compromise when in a political debate.
That is not just disheartening. It is a recipe for collapse.
We already know this since we are living through it right now. We now know that the deep societal rift caused by the judicial reform gave Israel’s enemies an opportunity. They believed Israel was weak and vulnerable, and they took advantage of that weakness. October 7 was not only a military failure; it was also a failure of national cohesion.
Is there a way to avoid this? Of course, but it’s not simple. Israeli politics are always going to be heated since our security challenges are seen as existential and unrelenting. But that cannot be an excuse. We know what happens when division is allowed to fester. We know what sinat hinam does.
We’ve seen it, and we have to do better.
The writer is co-founder of the MEAD policy forum, co-author of While Israel Slept, about the Oct. 7 attack, a senior fellow at the Jewish People Policy Institute, and a former editor-in-chief of The Jerusalem Post.
This op-ed was originally published in the Jerusalem post and can be viewed here.