Gil Mildar
As the song says, a Latin American with no money in his pocket.

Character Isn’t Built With a Tweet

In the space between typed and deleted words, in the gap between the said and the unsaid, lies an abyss of meaning. In the awkward silence following the deleted tweet, Prime Minister Netanyahu, perhaps unwittingly, revealed the darker side of leadership—one that shuns the mirror of self-reflection but is ever ready to reflect blame onto others.

Yet blame is a stubborn shadow; it doesn’t simply vanish because we choose to look the other way. In fact, the act of pointing fingers is the most telling act of all. It shows a willingness to sacrifice the collective for the ego, to subvert truth in the name of self-preservation.

You see, this is not just a leader who made a slip in communication. This is a man who holds the reins of a nation whose history is deeply entwined with struggles and sacrifices. Israel, this sliver of land and sea, of desert and green, is not just a country; it’s a narrative lived by millions, an experiment in a constant state of becoming.

And what does this flickering on and off of a tweet say about this constant state? It tells us that leadership is fragile, that trust is a rare currency, and that integrity is perhaps the last unconquered frontier. In the digital omission of a leader, we find the unspoken admission of a deeper moral failing. And the problem with moral failings is that they don’t stay contained; they spread, like cracks in a glass, affecting the entire structure.

The paradox is that, in his impulse for self-protection, the leader might end up leaving unprotected those he vowed to defend. A leader who wavers when it comes time to assume responsibility becomes a weak link in the chain that binds a people. And in a time where survival is the hanging question of each dawn, every link counts.

Erasing a tweet might be a second’s act, but the ripples it creates echo in the fabric of time, disturbing the delicate balance between public trust and private duty, between what is spoken in public and what is whispered in the corridors of power.

So, as fingers point and tweets disappear, the question remains: How far will a leader go to protect himself, and at what cost to those he leads? The answer, I fear, is written not in words but in actions, and those, unlike a tweet, cannot be erased.

About the Author
Gil Mildar is a 60-year-old Brazilian who made Aliyah a few years ago. He holds a Law degree from the Universidade do Vale do Rio dos Sinos in Brazil and a postgraduate degree in Marketing from the Universidad de Belgrano in Argentina. Over the years, he has had the opportunity to work in Brazil, Argentina, South Africa, and now Israel. For the past 30 years, his focus has been on marketing projects in Latin America.
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