Our Duty to Support the Hostage Deal with Hamas
Yitzak Benbaji
Credit: Teo K., Shutterstock
Yitzhak Benbaji is a professor of philosophy in the Faculty of Law at Tel-Aviv University, where he has taught for more than a decade, and a Research Fellow in the Shalom Hartman Institute’s Kogod Research Center.
On October 7, 2023, a series of unprecedented and devastating terror attacks by Hamas plunged Israel into chaos, shaking the very foundations of its security and moral identity. What began as sudden, violent assaults quickly escalated into a full-blown war. Israel has been forced to confront not only its vulnerabilities but also the profound ethical dilemmas inherent in wartime decision-making. As Israelis grappled with loss and uncertainty, their leaders were confronted with another harrowing challenge: how to rescue hostages taken by Hamas while safeguarding the long-term security of the state. This essay delves into that dilemma by critically examining the controversial hostage deal Israel signed with Hamas in January. I employ Michael Walzer’s "dirty hands" doctrine as a framework to analyze the moral and political considerations that a government faces when deliberating about whether to violate individual rights in pursuit of a greater good.
Below, I argue that, analyzed from the (valid) perspective of the dirty hands doctrine, the devastating moral shortcomings of the current Israeli political leadership have a clear consequence regarding our (Israelis’) response to the deal. The willingness of right-wing parties to sacrifice individuals for ideological and political gain should erode any trust we might place in them. By prioritizing Greater Israel over individual citizens’ rights, these parties reveal indifference to the values that should form the cornerstone of state governance. Most disturbingly, their rejection of the hostage deal reached with Hamas cannot be explained through the dirty hands doctrine, as the doctrine presumes a rights-based morality. Instead, we should suspect that their opposition is driven by ideological and religious aims that disregard the fundamental rights of individuals.
On the other hand, the IDF have consistently demonstrated a principled commitment to rescuing the hostages, for the right reasons. The IDF’s firm support for releasing the hostages reflects a respect for both human and political rights that is conspicuously absent in the political leadership’s approach. I would conclude that—as citizens of a state whose government is responsible for the most horrific violations of individual rights that Israel has ever committed—Israelis ought to support the hostage deal.
The Doctrine of Dirty Hands
The recent deal with Hamas, which involved a ceasefire; releasing of the hostages abducted on October 7; and releasing Hamas terrorists from Israeli prisons, presents a complex moral dilemma. Rescuing hostages is a moral imperative, rooted in the fundamental duty to prevent unjust suffering and to protect human life. Moreover, Israel’s failure to fulfill its fundamental duty to protect its citizens on October 7, due to the security forces’ lack of readiness and slow response, created a further moral obligation for Israel and its leaders—not just to aid the victims but also to correct the initial violation of their fundamental rights.
Still, negotiating with Hamas carries serious risks and raises concerns about Israel’s long-term security. Agreements with such a rogue organization might be seen as making concessions that will embolden terrorists and encourage future hostage-taking. The deal also involved the release of convicted terrorists, many of whom might return to violence. The challenge lies in balancing the immediate humanitarian need against broader security implications.
In a 1973 article in Philosophy and Political Affairs, political philosopher Michael Walzer describes the situation of leaders who must violate their duty to uphold one fundamental moral right in order to fulfill their duty of upholding a different fundamental right. He argues that in such situations, while morally reprehensible actions may be necessary to promote a greater good, they still taint those who commit them. He coins the term “dirty hands” to describe this sort of moral wrongdoing.
If we apply the dirty hands doctrine to the hostage deal, we can see that a decent leader could reject the current hostage deal by arguing that releasing terrorists risks future bloodshed and compromises the state’s security. However, the doctrine insists that such a leader must also acknowledge that rejecting the deal simply to serve long-term security interests is tragic, for it betrays a moral duty to the hostages. The dirty hands doctrine demands further that anyone opposed to the deal—not only those in a position to execute it—recognize that our leaders are caught in a painful moral trap, sacrificing their integrity for the perceived greater good.
The same is true on the other side. The rationale for Israel to accept the hostage deal is that it fulfills the moral duty to release the hostages and corrects Israel’s failure to protect its citizens on October 7. Still, it comes at a moral cost, in this case, the prospect of risking the future security of the state. Again, the leader who would accept the deal must recognize this and so, too, must anyone who supports it.
The “dirty hands” idea has ancient roots, including the biblical story of King David. In II Samuel, God forbids David from building the Jerusalem temple because of the bloodshed he caused in the many wars he fought, leaving the task to his son Solomon instead (7:1-17). David’s actions in war, though they could be viewed as just, had moral consequences that could not be ignored. His righteous intentions in committing the killings were those that led him to want to build the temple, but they could not erase the moral stain on his hands.
In addition to helping us to evaluate the hostage deal, the dirty hands doctrine can help us to evaluate different responses to it. Some of the loudest opposition to the hostage deal has come from government leaders like Netanyahu (before the Trump administration interfered), Smotrich, and Ben-Gvir. Their political agenda prioritizes nationalist and expansionist goals, often with blatant disregard for human rights. They frequently advocate policies that violate the rights of Palestinians and, more rarely, dissenting Israeli citizens, both Jewish and Arab. For these leaders, rejecting the hostage deal is not a tragic moral conflict—because they reject the sort of rights-based morality that Walzer’s theory of dirty hands assumes. Leaders are not burdened by moral guilt for violating rights if they do not recognize those rights to begin with.
To understand Walzer’s doctrine of dirty hands, we must first begin with Niccolo Machiavelli’s view of political morality. In his well-known work, The Prince, Machiavelli does not portray morality as a universal framework that applies equally to all people. Instead, he distinguishes between what is expected of private individuals and what is expected of rulers. Good citizens are characterized by humility, moderation, and compassion, while political leaders are assertive, seeking power and striving consistently to enhance their legacy and political influence. Cruelty is bad, but for political leaders, it is a necessary skill to achieve stability and power. In short, Machiavelli argues that rulers cannot always adhere to virtuous conduct. They may sometimes need to engage in immoral acts to maintain power and stability. They must be prepared to employ deceit, violence, and cruelty when circumstances require it. A leader must learn “how not to be good” (come non essere buono) and apply this skill as needed.
Walzer critiques Machiavelli by raising a crucial question: “What are the penalties for not being good?” He answers as follows:
Machiavelli doesn't say, and it is probably for this reason above all that his moral sensitivity has so often been questioned. He is suspect not because he tells political actors they must get their hands dirty, but because he does not specify the state of mind appropriate to a man with dirty hands. A Machiavellian hero has no inwardness. What he thinks of himself we don't know. I would guess, along with most other readers of Machiavelli, that he basks in his glory. But then it is difficult to account for the strength of his original reluctance to learn how not to be good. In any case, he is the sort of man who is unlikely to keep a diary and so we cannot find out what he thinks. Yet we do want to know; above all, we want a record of his anguish. That is a sign of our own conscientiousness and of the impact on us of the second tradition of thought that I want to examine, in which personal anguish sometimes seems the only acceptable excuse for political crimes.
Machiavelli's perspective on political morality focuses on the actions required for maintaining power and stability. He neglects to depict the personal moral struggle, the internal conflict of “Machiavellian” leaders, leaving us wondering about their moral standing. And our repugnance for cynical leadership—for leaders who display no “inwardness,” as Walzer calls it—reflects our need for leaders who exhibit self-reflection when engaging in morally questionable acts. Leaders should acknowledge and express their understanding of the ethical compromises they make.
One scene from the story of David and Saul in the first book of Samuel vividly illustrates a Machiavellian moment (24:1-22). At this point in the narrative, Saul is hunting David with the intent to kill him, because he views David as a threat to his throne. When David encounters Saul in a vulnerable position while he is resting in a cave, David’s men urge him to kill Saul, believing God has delivered Saul into his hands. However, instead of killing him, David stealthily cuts off a corner of Saul’s robe. Shortly afterward, David appears troubled by his actions; in front of his men, he insists that even this seemingly harmless act is an affront to the king’s dignity and to his status as God’s anointed leader.
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When he later confronts Saul, David reveals the piece of the robe and offers it to Saul as proof that he had no intention of doing him harm: he could have taken Saul’s life, but he chose mercy. Moved by David’s words and actions, Saul admits that David is more righteous than him and acknowledges that David will one day be king. This episode opens the door to a cynical reading of political performance.
While it appears that David experiences genuine moral anguish about whether to spare Saul—or even whether to imply he had that choice—we might suspect that this is nothing more than a carefully staged act. Moshe Halbertal and Stephen Holmes express this perspective in their 2017 book, In the Beginning of Politics: Power in the Biblical Book of Samuel (2017), noting that “even morally good actions can be performed for exclusively instrumental reasons, and arguably, no genuinely political act can avoid raising suspicions in this regard.” In this interpretation, David deliberately feigns internal conflict to signal his superiority—both morally and politically—thereby reinforcing his legitimacy as a future king. This reading is troubling precisely because we find leaders’ introspection so important. We want David to be a tortured soul wrestling with ethical dilemmas rather than a conniving and calculating manipulator purposefully shaping the perceptions of both his followers and his enemies.
Walzer “moralizes” Machiavellian political theory with three crucial additions. First, he insists that political actions must serve a legitimate moral end—they should not be undertaken for mere power-seeking or political clout. Leaders’ pursuit of power is permissible only if it promotes the well-being of their subjects, protects rights, defends the community’s way of life, etc. Second, violations of rights are permissible only in cases where they are a necessary lesser evil. Deceit to achieve political victory or torture to save lives may be acceptable, but only because the ends—victory and rescue—are morally desirable. Third, leaders must bear the moral burden of their decisions by acknowledging their ethical compromises and accepting the resulting guilt. When the tension between individual rights and political necessity is unresolvable, leaders should not deny the wrongs caused by their actions. If they do not acknowledge and accept this burden, their actions do not merit public support.
Because the dirty hands doctrine focuses on the moral quality of intentions rather than solely on the outcomes, it is non-consequentialist. Indeed, Walzer contends that when rights are violated for the greater good, the act is only acceptable if it is carried out with good intentions. The guilt that accompanies such an act is a natural result of recognizing its moral cost. But, if the same outcome is achieved by someone who deliberately intends to do wrong, the good outcome cannot justify the violation.
I think, though, that the doctrine also has a consequentialist dimension. Walzer is concerned with the question of whether a political leader deserves citizens’ support, and he insists that a leader’s appropriate framing in committing a violation of rights is crucial for justifying that support. When leaders acknowledge the ethical compromises they make, they demonstrate an understanding of the gravity of their decisions. Only then can citizens support (and thus be complicit in) these violations with a clear conscience; if leaders fail to recognize the violation of rights as such, our support might enable them to commit further unnecessary wrongs.
A leader’s willingness to confront their moral burden serves as a deterrent to reckless decision-making, fostering a political environment where moral and political rights are central. It holds leaders to the principles of rights-based morality. Conversely, failure to recognize or admit moral compromises undermines their moral authority. If leaders avoid confronting the foreseeable consequences of their actions, citizens should oppose them, as their future decisions are likely to be morally distorted.
Jewish Power, Religious Zionism, and their Opposition to the Hostage Deal
As I have said, some of the loudest opposition to the hostage deal has come from members of Netanyahu’s coalition: Itamar Ben-Gvir of the Jewish Power Party (Otzma Yehudit); Bezalel Smotrich of the Religious Zionist Party; and their many followers. Both Ben Gvir and Smotrich justify their opposition on security grounds, arguing instead for decisive, uncompromising measures to ensure Israel’s security and territorial integrity. They describe the hostage deal as “reckless” and claim it would “destroy all of Israel’s achievements” because it requires the release of hundreds of Palestinian prisoners and the withdrawal of troops from Gaza’s southern border with Egypt. According to them, the only stable solution is to occupy the Gaza Strip, impose a military government, transfer Palestinians out of Gaza, and advance Jewish settlements there. Both leaders also contend that the very existence of Hamas and the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank poses a grave threat—not only to residents of the region but also to Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.
As I also acknowledged above, security-based objections to the hostage deal with Hamas are valid. The fact that the agreement involves releasing terrorists is deeply troubling. Therefore, rejecting the deal could be understood through the doctrine of dirty hands: a decent leader might legitimately refuse it, thereby violating the hostages’ right to life, their right to freedom, and their claim to corrective justice against a government that failed to protect them—despite its fundamental duty to do so.
But Smotrich, Ben-Gvir, and Netanyahu (who built his rogue coalition around the parties they head) are not decent leaders. Their opposition to the hostage deal cannot be explained with the doctrine of dirty hands because they reject the very idea of rights-based moral frameworks. They prioritize territorial expansion and religious dominance over protecting individual interests. Most strikingly, they fail to attach any moral significance to this fact: it is the very government in which members of these political parties hold central roles that left the hostages defenseless in the first place. The doctrine of dirty hands requires a fundamental respect for human life and dignity—an element glaringly absent from the policies and public rhetoric of these parties.
The doctrine of dirty hands demands that leaders who would sacrifice the hostages confront the moral cost of their actions, expressing guilt and acknowledging, with pain, the evil they would cause. Without this reckoning, our support for, and participation in, such a violation of fundamental human rights becomes morally indefensible. When a leader’s decency and moral authority are compromised by actions that show disregard for basic rights, the legitimacy of their political leadership is inevitably called into question. The Jewish Power and Religious Zionism parties exhibit no such sensitivity. They cannot be trusted to refrain from violating rights for contentious purposes. Accordingly, their rejection of the hostage deal should be viewed with deep skepticism. They might well be driven by ideological and religious aims that can never justify violations of rights. Even moderate citizens whose worldview prioritizes human and political rights for all become complicit when they support the far-right opposition to the deal.
The consequentialist aspect of the doctrine of dirty hands, which shifts the focus toward evaluating whether leaders deserve our trust and support, means that leaders who fail to recognize any violation of rights inherent in their political actions forfeit their moral authority. We should oppose decisions through which their hands become dirty, as their immoral intentions and distorted priorities increase the likelihood of causing unjustifiable harm.
Now, given the reality of conflicting authorities that we Israelis face, supporting the hostage deal is not merely permissible; it is morally and politically imperative. We are compelled to trust the institution that upholds a more principled stance on human dignity. We cannot fully know whether the far-right’s opposition to the deal stems from genuine concern for national security or from an ideological agenda that subordinates human rights to nationalist and religious ambitions. Yet, the heads of the IDF consistently demonstrate a deeper respect for human life, basic rights, and corrective justice than the government. While not without flaws, their commitment makes their judgment far more reliable in matters of life and death.
In this case, the IDF’s support for the deal serves as a rare and critical signal in a political landscape dominated by leaders who largely lack a moral compass regarding individual rights. Failing to support the deal would align us with a government that has repeatedly shown indifference to human suffering. Ultimately, supporting the hostage deal is not just an act of compassion for the hostages but a decisive stand against a government that has repeatedly proven willing to sacrifice individuals for nationalistic and religious aims.
