The day before I left for Israel, I read a newspaper article about a possible prisoner-swap-in-the-making with Hezbollah. Two Israeli soldiers, Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev, had been held by Hezbollah in Lebanon for two years. Back in 2006, their Humvee was blown up and they were captured and brought into Lebanon by Hezbollah militants. This occurrence sparked a war that lasted 33 days and claimed hundreds of lives on both sides.
Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev weren’t found during the war. Presumably, the two soldiers remained in Lebanon for the next two years. No one knew for sure if they were alive, dead, hurt or even if Hezbollah still had them at all. Then last month, negotiations became serious over a prisoner swap. Hezbollah wanted five of its militants, as well as the bodies of 200 Palestinian and Hezbollah fighters, in exchange for the two Israeli soldiers. Hezbollah refused to disclose whether the soldiers were alive or dead. That was all the newspaper had to say on the subject when I read it.
Forty-eight hours later, I was in Israel, and after such a long trip, I wasn’t thinking too much about Israeli POWs. I went to bed that first night exhausted after all the travel, but when I woke up, it was the day of the scheduled swap. In the morning, our tour guide explained the situation to us, and she told me something I hadn’t heard before: One of the live prisoners that Hezbollah wanted Israel to release was a man named Samir Kuntar.
Kuntar is a Lebanese fighter who brutally murdered three people, including a 4-year-old girl, during an attempted kidnapping. He was serving four life sentences when Hezbollah demanded his release. Israelis hold this man responsible for one of the worst terrorist attacks in their history. When I heard that Kuntar’s release was one of the conditions of the prisoner swap, I saw the dilemma the Israeli government faced. Is it worth it to trade one of the most villainous terrorists in Israel’s history, as well as four other militants and 200 dead terrorists, for two Israeli soldiers who may not be alive and who, in fact, are presumed dead?
Everyone had a different opinion. The security guard on our trip, for instance, was vehemently against the trade. She said under no circumstances would the Israeli soldiers, alive or dead, have wanted the government to release Kuntar on their behalf. I was inclined to agree. The government saw otherwise.
Our tour group heard about the prisoner trade at about midday. We were on the bus (actually coming back from an overlook into Lebanon), when the guide came on the microphone and said the two Israelis were brought back over the border in caskets. Once their DNA was confirmed to be that of Goldwasser and Regev, Israel released Kuntar and his ilk and began shuttling over the bodies of the 200 dead terrorists. Our guide said the country was in mourning.
When we got back to the hotel, we turned the TV on and saw rallies and celebrations welcoming Kuntar back into Lebanon. It was the whole nine yards, with masked men with AK-47s jumping all over the place, yelling jubilantly in Arabic as Israeli flags burned. Then the news station cut to the Lebanese prime minister, hailing Kuntar as a national hero.
The debate continues about whether the trade was worth it. Somebody I talked to pointed out that it speaks volumes about Israel—that it’s willing to pay such a high price for the remains of two dead soldiers. This insight, and the whole affair, led me to realize that the government had no choice. When I turn on the TV and see Lebanon in celebration, I’m in shock and disgusted—they hail murderers as heroes. But regardless of how unfair the demands were, Israel could not abandon two of its own, because Jews place incalculable value on a single life. Nobody else in the region cared at all about those two soldiers, but Israel embraced them and buried them with honor.
A door in Safed


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