A Jew was murdered on Tuesday. Read that last sentence again -- this time cry out the words: "A Jew was murdered." One of our own flesh and blood died. Salam Zaghal wanted to murder a Jew. He couldn't care less where that Jew resided and whom he voted for in the last election. Evyatar Borovsky happened to be the closest Jew available: He stood at the junction, hands tucked in his pockets, waiting for a friend to arrive and give him a ride to the rehearsal his ensemble was about to hold. He had just said goodbye to his five kids. For them, it was the beginning of just another ordinary day: They would drink chocolate milk; someone would tie their shoelaces.
Zaghal plunged the knife into Borovsky's abdomen -- our abdomen. Why? Because he was a Jew.
The evacuation of the wounded Zaghal from Tapuach Junction, which for many Israelis lies somewhere beyond the Mountains of Darkness, to Rabin Medical Center in Petach Tikva, took twenty minutes. The Israel that rushed Zaghal to the medical center to treat his wounds (he had been shot by Border Police as he carried out his attack) is the same Israel that had released him from prison several months earlier, and the same Israel that removed roadblocks to allow the Palestinians to lead a better life.
I wanted to ask, "But what about the life of Jews?" But then I looked at Evyatar's picture: a wonderful father; a gifted performer who wrote his own material; a man with new ideas, a big smile, and love for this land.
A life was nipped in the bud by a contaminated knife. And this, even as every Israeli radio station was reporting with great fanfare on the new Arab League peace initiative.
This is the face of peace: a medical doctor killed at a bus stop. This has been the face of peace since the Arab riots of 1929 and peace will continue to look like this.
Roadblocks are a necessary evil, a consequence of circumstances we did not seek. Over the past several years, these roadblocks have been gradually removed. Left-wing groups have proudly taken credit for effecting this change, and point to the fact that movement of Palestinians between their communities inside Judea and Samaria is no longer hindered by the checkpoints. In this new reality, Palestinians are only stopped when they try to leave Judea and Samaria. This allows tens of thousands of them to make a living in Israel. They have unrestricted access to the roads that connect Palestinian villages and towns and as a consequence, the more than 300,000 Israelis who reside behind the Security Fence live under constant threat.
A week ago, I was on the Channel 1 talk show "Politics." On my way back home, I noticed terrorists had placed rocks on the road, effectively blocking the way. Luckily, I managed to stop the car just in time. About a month ago, on the eve of Holocaust Remembrance Day, a burning tire was hurled at my car. Driving on Samaria's roads has become impossible. The "quiet terrorism" disrupts our way of life.
If history is any guide, a new wave of terrorism that originates in "the territories" rapidly makes its way toward Israel's main population centers. This method has been tried and tested. If there is no response to terrorism perpetrated in Tapuach, soon enough it will strike Tel Aviv. When Israel remains silent in the face of attacks on Sderot, Ashdod is hit as well. It is now raining over the hills of Judea and Samaria, and unless something is done, the downpour will soon reach the skyscrapers in the Dan region. The Azrieli Center in the heart of Tel Aviv, by the way, is a 30-minute drive from Tapuach Junction.
