Along with Bamba, Krembo, and other iconic Israeli inventions, the country is also known for creating a so-called “taking of responsibility” that often falls short of actually taking responsibility. This peculiar trend is rampant in Israeli leadership, particularly in moments of crisis, when leaders will verbally accept blame without truly following through with meaningful action.
That is why when IDF Chief of Staff Lt.-Gen. Herzi Halevi admitted, in the wake of the Hamas invasion on October 7, that he had failed and that the failures would be investigated, he was praised by some for “taking responsibility.”
To some extent, this praise was deserved. Halevi, unlike many others, openly acknowledged his role in the failure, verbalizing a sense of responsibility. However, verbal acknowledgment is a far cry from acting on it, something that Halevi failed to do for too long.
In contrast, Aharon Haliva, the head of Military Intelligence at the time of the attack, did just that. In April 2024, Haliva resigned, accepting the consequences of the mistakes that led to the disaster. Halevi, however, chose to stay on. There were reasons for this decision, both strategic and personal.
On one hand, Israel was engaged in a war, and the need for stability at the helm of the military was paramount. On the other hand, Halevi, like many others in leadership positions, likely felt that he could weather the storm. Also, close associates privately told him that if Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu could retain his position despite the political fallout from the attack, why couldn’t he?
Adding to the complexity of his decision were calls from political allies, particularly from the anti-Netanyahu camp, urging Halevi to stay. Their argument was that if he resigned, Netanyahu would consolidate power and place political loyalists in key military positions.
This, of course, was an exaggeration, but it had an impact. For 15 months, Halevi held onto his role, justifying his decision by citing the ongoing war. He claimed that his resignation would have been a distraction and that the IDF needed leadership focused on winning.
Finally resigned
But earlier this week, Halevi finally submitted his resignation. It was a decision that should have been made much earlier, particularly as more and more details emerged about the decisions he made on October 6 and 7. Halevi was aware of the intelligence indicating that something was brewing in Gaza hours before the first Hamas terrorist crossed the border.
However, he dismissed it as a potential exercise and failed to take the necessary precautions. The tragic results were undeniable – 1,200 people lost their lives, and 251 were taken hostage.
In the military, such mistakes are not mere errors – they are catastrophic. Halevi’s failure to step down earlier was a breach of the ethos of accountability that should guide military leadership.
When Haliva resigned, Halevi appointed a replacement and made other significant leadership changes within the IDF. If he could make those changes, why couldn’t he step aside for someone else to lead the military through the recovery process?
By remaining in his position, Halevi sent a message to the IDF: even after the worst disaster in Israeli history, no one was being held accountable in a meaningful way. What does this tell a young officer at the Bahad 1 Officer Academy, who is training to be a future leader of the IDF?
Does he or she understand that mistakes they make will be met with swift consequences, or does this create the illusion that even the most significant failures can be forgotten? Halevi undoubtedly understood the gravity of his actions. On the wall in his conference room, a quote from David Ben-Gurion hangs for all to see: “Every Jewish mother should know that she has entrusted the life of her son in the hands of worthy commanders.”
Being a “worthy commander” means knowing when to step down and recognizing when one’s continued presence in a role does more harm than good. None of this detracts from Halevi’s significant contributions over the course of his career.
He has served in the IDF for over 40 years and led the military this past year to success in its battles against Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran. Halevi deserves credit and gratitude for his lifetime of service to the security of the State of Israel, even though the tragedy of October 7 occurred under his watch.
Nonetheless, the reasons for his resignation outweigh his past achievements. He made critical decisions the night between October 6 and 7 that contributed to the scope of the disaster.
By the time of the attack, Halevi had been chief of staff for 10 months, and his previous roles included heading Military Intelligence, the Southern Command, and serving as deputy chief of staff.
He was part of the group that believed and fostered the misguided belief that Hamas could be deterred and that Israel could maintain quiet through economic incentives and physical barriers.
Now that Halevi has stepped down, for the IDF, his resignation represents an opportunity for renewal – a chance to recover from the mistakes that led to October 7 and chart a new path forward. The military must learn from its failures and adjust to reflect the changing realities of the region.
Politically, Halevi’s resignation will also have repercussions. Some may naively believe that it will shift the spotlight onto Netanyahu, increasing the pressure for him to step down too.
In reality, the opposite is likely to happen. Netanyahu’s supporters will argue that Halevi resigned because he had failed, and by extension, they will claim that Netanyahu did not fail and therefore has no reason to resign. Despite being false, this narrative will gain traction.
Halevi’s resignation is an important step in the right direction, but it is now up to the government to follow suit and commit to a rigorous independent investigation of the events that led to October 7. Only through such an inquiry can Israel hope to learn from its mistakes and emerge stronger.
On Wednesday, I boarded a taxi near Tel Aviv. The driver, a man in his 70s, mentioned he’d been driving for only three years. Curious, I asked what he did before. His answer stopped me cold.
He retired from the IDF in 2000 after 28 years of service. Most of that time, he said, he was an Air Force Technical Officer. But it wasn’t always that way.
Drafted in 1972 into the Armored Corps, he was stationed on the Golan Heights when the Yom Kippur War erupted on October 6, 1973. Just two days later, his tank was hit. Three friends were killed. He was injured and captured by the Syrians. For the next eight months, he was held in captivity.
As he recounted this, his voice cracked. “Everything happening now brings me back to those days,” he said, tears welling.
He told me of the horrors: relentless beatings, burns inflicted on his body, and months of agony at the hands of Syrian soldiers. Yet, he said, even in that nightmare, his situation was better than the hostages in Gaza. He had food, he said, and occasionally, there was a Red Cross visit.
And then he said this: “Israel must do everything to bring the hostages back from Gaza. If the government fails, it will betray the essence of what this country stands for.” This man, who endured unimaginable suffering, is asking us to remember who we are and what we stand for. His story is a lesson, one we cannot ignore.
Heroes like him don’t speak often, but when they do, we must listen.
The writer is a senior fellow at the Jewish People Policy Institute and a former editor-in-chief of The Jerusalem Post.