Nic Stone

Gilad Shalit looked like a boy trying on his military uniform for the first time. The olive green shirt fell off his gaunt, sickly body. The belt looked superfluous; not holding up his pants, just hanging there like a decoration. The badges were all in the right place and the uniform was pressed to perfection, almost mocking the weak body it clung to.

In the procession of absurd images that accompanied Shalit’s release by Hamas back to Israel – officials hurrying him along at the border exchange, his labored interview on Egyptian television – none were as odd as the image of him in his oversized military uniform saluting Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

Today, Shalit was a national hero, a symbol of Israeli persistence and a reminder that nobody in the Israeli army is forgotten. But he was also symbol of a misguided policy that appears to have more to do with populism and public relations, than a sound strategy for stability in the region – a peg from which Mr. Netanyahu can hang phrases like “I considered, and I decided”.

The exchange of Shalit for in excess of 1000 Palestinian prisoners held by Israel, many who are convicted terrorists, creates a scenario where the likelihood of similar events happening in the future is increased and it also further muddies Mr. Netanyahu’s dealings with Hamas.

According to the Almagor Terror Victims’ Association, 180 Israelis have lost their lives to terrorists released in previous deals since 2000. Families of victims of terror have expressed vehement opposition to the deal. Several petitions were brought by these families to the High Court of Israel on Monday and rejected.

Despite this, popular support for his release in Israel was overwhelming. According to a poll in the Yedioth Ahronoth newspaper, 79 percent of respondents agreed with the exchange. The Israeli Cabinet backed the release with a majority of 26-3. This was not a close call. But was it the right one?

Part of the problem is the fact that Israelis still have to do three years of military service as young men. During his imprisonment, Shalit became everybody’s son or brother – a reminder of the proximity of military service to all Israelis.

“In opposing the mass release of terrorists in exchange for Gilad Shalit’s freedom, I felt as if I was betraying my own son,” wrote Yossi Klein Halevi, a fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem.

A few months ago, as part of its psychological war against the Israeli public, Hamas released an animated film depicting Shalit as an elderly gray-haired man, still a prisoner in Gaza. Israelis couldn’t stand it; Netanyahu had an opportunity.

But war has never been a friend to the young; nor will it ever be.

Soldiers die. Soldiers are captured. Bringing one home in exchange for a number of convicted terrorists only appeases the public whim for the time being. It wins popularity contests, but it does not win the fight for peace. It jeopardizes it.

Many see Mr. Netanyahu’s haste in pushing though the deal as an indication that he did not want to miss the opportunity to have the release finalized under his rule. Of course, the photo of a weak Shalit saluting his Prime Minister in that brand new uniform will probably win Mr. Netanyahu many admirers and boost popularity for his Likud Party.

But three years after the Jibril Deal of 1985, when the Israeli government agreed to release 1,150 prisoners in exchange for three Israeli soldiers captured in Lebanon, Mr. Netanyahu was not so sympathetic. At the time, he explained his philosophy about negotiating with terrorists to CNN’s Larry King.

“We wanted to get our POWs back, and the government, in my judgment, made a big mistake and traded terrorists,” he said.

What has changed? What seems a step towards interaction, a step towards cooperation and a step towards peace, is actually a giant stride in the opposite direction – a perpetuation of the issues that lay at the heart of this conflict. Mr. Netanyahu saw that then, but he seems to have forgotten it in an attempt to win support and appease his people.

When the joy at Shalit’s release dissipates and the happiness that he is home is no longer relevant, perhaps this decision will seem as absurd as the uniform he was made to put on for the cameras when he was returned.