In a sharply worded memo issued in July 2024, Major General Tamir Yadai, head of the IDF’s Ground Forces at the time, called for an immediate halt to the acceptance of donations across all units—both active and reserve. The document, circulated at the height of Israel’s ongoing war, described the situation around unauthorized donations as “disturbing and troubling,” and claimed it “borders on criminal behavior.”
His reasoning? A lack of transparency, operational risk, and the absence of centralized control over what gear was making its way to soldiers in the field. According to Yadai’s directive, no piece of equipment—be it ceramic plates, helmets, drones, or optical gear—could be used unless it passed through formal IDF logistical channels and was officially approved. Any commander who failed to comply could face disciplinary action.
Yet for tens of thousands of reservists and combat soldiers, the policy landed like a punch to the gut.
By July, it was already widely documented that the IDF had failed to provide even the most basic protective equipment to many soldiers. Families, friends, and grassroots groups stepped in to fill the void—donating life-saving gear when the army couldn’t or wouldn’t. What Yadai’s letter framed as chaos and danger, many viewed as the only thing standing between their loved ones and serious harm.
Even more disturbing is that this crisis wasn’t a surprise.
A State Comptroller’s report from July 2023—months before the war began—explicitly warned of severe shortages in basic equipment and readiness in IDF units in the north. These were not abstract assessments; they detailed real, systemic gaps in preparedness. And at the time, Tamir Yadai was already serving as Head of the Ground Forces. He was the commander most directly responsible for ensuring the operational readiness of the IDF’s land forces.
Though the report focused on the north, it is reasonable to assume that similar shortages existed across other parts of the army—as became painfully evident once the war began and tens of thousands of reservists mobilized without essential gear.
And yet—despite these failures—Tamir Yadai was not held accountable. He was promoted. He now serves as the Deputy Chief of Staff of the IDF, the second-highest position in the entire Israeli military. The man who oversaw one of the most glaring logistics breakdowns in modern IDF history was rewarded with a rise in rank.
The letter is not new. But what is new—and what casts it in a more painful light—is a recently surfaced photo of Yadai standing beside Ze’ev "Jabo" Hanoch Erlich, the historian and researcher who was later killed in Lebanon under controversial circumstances.
The image, reportedly taken the day before Erlich’s death, shows the IDF’s top ground commander smiling with a civilian who would, hours later, cross into one of the most dangerous war zones in the region—and not return.
Further complicating the narrative, Col. (res.) Yoav Yarom, the IDF officer who approved the controversial reconnaissance mission into southern Lebanon that resulted in the deaths of Erlich and IDF combat soldier Gur Kehati, recently spoke out in a televised interview. Yarom defended the decision to allow Erlich into a combat zone, emphasizing that Erlich's presence was neither informal nor unauthorized. He stated, "All senior command knew him. They saw him, worked with him—even in Lebanon."
That photo, emerging now, underscores a disturbing double standard.
While commanders were being told that supplying unapproved ceramic plates to their own soldiers was potentially “criminal,” a civilian—outside the military chain of command entirely—was somehow close enough to Yadai to share a photo-op, and hours later found himself in a combat zone that even soldiers tread through with caution.
So when we talk about “criminal behavior,” what are we really referring to?
Is it a commander accepting helmets for his unit from a civilian organization because the army didn’t provide enough? Or is it the systemic failure to equip soldiers for war—and then punishing those who tried to make up for that failure?
There’s no question that oversight and order are necessary in a military operation. But so is moral clarity. And in this case, moral clarity demands that we ask: who is really endangering lives here—those donating protective gear, or the system that refused it, ignored the warnings, and now seeks to enforce silence?
This isn’t just hypocrisy—it’s institutional gaslighting. The same system that failed to equip its soldiers now condemns the very people who stepped up to save lives. While commanders scrambled for helmets and parents fundraised for ceramic vests, the military brass called it “criminal.” Meanwhile, Tamir Yadai—who presided over these failures—not only escaped accountability but was promoted to the second-highest position in the IDF. And now, after a photo surfaces of Yadai with Ze’ev Erlich just hours before Erlich’s fatal and highly irregular mission into Lebanon, we must ask the hard questions: What did Yadai know about the rules being broken in the field? Who approved them? And how many lives were endangered not by donations—but by silence at the top? There’s a word for that. But it’s not justice. And it’s certainly not leadership.