The Difference Between a Moving Moment and Lasting Responsibility

One of the first things I saw this morning was Hillel Fulds post praising El Al Israel Airlines for their generous gesture toward a couple who served hundreds of days in IDF reserve duty. Since then, the post has gone viral, reaching hundreds of thousands and shaping a widely shared narrative.

I’ll say this upfront: the moment itself was moving.

Seeing people who carried such a heavy burden publicly acknowledged and celebrated matters. We are a society that values service, sacrifice, and mutual responsibility.

But that’s exactly why I felt the need to pause.

Because we don’t live in a vacuum of gestures.

We live in a reality of policies, systems, and long memories.

For months, many Israelis—families, soldiers, reservists, and civilians alike—have struggled with airline pricing, cancellations, and lack of flexibility, while large corporations remained strong, profitable, and protected.

So when a powerful company receives wall-to-wall praise for a single, highly visible act, it’s worth asking a harder question:

Are we celebrating systemic responsibility—or a well-produced moment?

Public gestures matter. Symbols matter.

But they should never replace consistency, fairness, and accountability.

If an airline truly stands with the public during a national crisis, that commitment should be reflected not only on stage or in viral clips, but in pricing policies, cancellation terms, and day-to-day conduct toward people trying to return home, reunite with family, or serve their country.

There is also a broader context.

In one of Benjamin Netanyahu’s well-known speeches, criticism was labeled as “sour.” Since then, something unhealthy has crept into our public discourse—as if being critical is illegitimate or unpatriotic, rather than a civic responsibility.
Since then, we’ve seen increasing efforts to focus almost exclusively on success stories, unity, and the strength of Am Yisrael. I’m for all of that. Solidarity matters.
But it cannot come at the expense of truth.

October 7th was the darkest day in Jewish history since the Holocaust.

A failure of unimaginable scale.

Both the government and the security forces bear responsibility for the catastrophic mistakes that led to that day. That responsibility cannot be erased by slogans or carefully curated moments of inspiration.

And the same principle applies here.

The facts are that El Al significantly overpriced flights during the crisis, causing real harm—financially and emotionally—to hundreds of thousands of people in Israel and Jews around the world.

This isn’t only a matter of perception.

Just recently, an Israeli court ruled against El Al, requiring the company to pay compensation totaling more than one hundred million shekels to customers. That ruling doesn’t tell the whole story—but it does confirm that the frustration many felt was real.

I’ll add a personal note.

I am one of the reservists who volunteered to serve for hundreds of days. I served in the frontlines both in Gaza and Lebanon. I did so willingly, out of a sense of responsibility. And like many others, I was directly affected by El Al’s pricing and policies during that period. This isn’t theoretical for me—it’s lived experience.

A democracy—especially one at war—cannot survive on applause alone.

Silencing criticism weakens us.

Hillel has an enormous platform, people listen to him. And for the most part he uses his influence to promote Israel. But this time you went a bit too far. ElAl should not be praised for helping reservists as they caused real damage to so many.

I’m not writing this to diminish a human moment.

I’m writing because we owe the public more than moments. We owe them accountability—consistently, especially in times of crisis.

Appreciation is powerful.

But responsibility is stronger.