RUTHFULLY YOURS

In the fall of 2008, I went to see then-Prime Minister Ehud Olmert to propose a book project. A couple of months earlier, he had announced that he was going to resign his post to fight mounting allegations of corruption against him.

“I will step aside properly in an honorable and responsible way,” he had said in a press conference. “And afterwards I will prove my innocence. I want to make it clear: I am proud to be a citizen of a country where the prime minister can be investigated like a regular citizen. It is the duty of the police to investigate, and the duty of the prosecution to instruct the police. The prime minister is not above the law.”

Other than gossip over the years and a couple of cases against him that closed before they opened, I had no reason to assume he was guilty of any crimes — other than political ones, that is.

Indeed, Olmert’s ideological shift to the Left was not to my liking one bit. Nor did I make a secret, in person or in print, of my aversion to his ideas about how to achieve peace with the Palestinians.

But I had always found Olmert to be both intelligent and personable. This is in spite of an altercation we had had over an interview in The Jerusalem Post. During the interview, which I conducted jointly with political affairs correspondent Gil Hoffman a few weeks before the disengagement from Gaza in 2005, then-Vice Prime Minister Olmert called settlers “stupid” for fearing that a withdrawal from Gaza would lead to a concession of Israeli sovereignty over east Jerusalem, as well.

When the piece appeared in the paper the next day, Olmert phoned my superiors to complain that he had been misquoted. Luckily for me, I had the whole exchange on tape.

Nevertheless, the incident could have jeopardized my journalistic access to and cordial relations with Olmert. But it didn’t. Nor did my own disgust with his policies as prime minister alter my personal attitude towards him.

It is thus that he came to mind when I was in the midst of contemplating a career move. I figured that, as an outgoing prime minister, he must be thinking of publishing a memoir. If so, I could ghostwrite it.

Less than a month later, I was sitting in the Prime Minister’s Office in Jerusalem making my pitch. To persuade him that I’d be the right person for the job, I reiterated my vehement opposition to his politics and ideology.

“Because I don’t agree with your worldview,” I said, “I will be able to get you to articulate it for readers.”

“You’ll end up agreeing with it,” he responded haughtily. “You’ll see.”

I snorted. If anything, his arrogant assertions about how close he was to reaching a deal with Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, coupled with his claims of victory in the Second Lebanon War, served to strengthen my convictions, not weaken them.

He told me that he was already in the final stages of a Hebrew memoir, and realized that it was not appropriate for an international audience; it was too full of inside dope that would not be relevant to readers abroad. He also said that other English-language writers had approached him. But he consented to give me a chance.

We concluded that I would write the book proposal and he would submit it to a major agent in the United States to shop among publishing houses.

Our subsequent meetings took place in his new office in Tel Aviv, where he moved when he was replaced by Benjamin Netanyahu. (Tzipi Livni, who replaced him as head of the Kadima party, was unable to form a coalition. As a result, new general elections were held in February 2009, and though Kadima garnered the most seats, it was Netanyahu’s Likud party that managed to form a coalition.) During these sessions, I taped him telling his story, so that I would have enough material for the book proposal.

When it was done, Olmert took it with him on a trip to New York, where he presented it to the agent. Upon his return, he was less than enthusiastic. The good news, he said, is that the agent loved the proposal. The “bad” news: It was unlikely that any publisher would pay an advance of more than $200,000 for the book. Olmert informed me that he was not interested in undertaking the project for less than $1 million.

As a result, the book was never written. I was paid for the work I had done on the proposal and that was the end of it.

This came to mind Thursday morning, when Judge David Rozen convicted Olmert and nine other defendants of corruption.

According to Rozen’s 670-page decision, when Olmert was the mayor of Jerusalem, he took bribes from businessman Shmuel Dechner (who turned state’s witness and then died suddenly during the trial) in exchange for pushing through building permits for the Holyland housing development.

The two sums in question were NIS 500,000 ($143,000) and NIS 60,000 ($17,000), the former given to Olmert’s debt-ridden brother, Yossi, who absconded years ago to the U.S., and the latter funneled through Olmert’s bureau chief, Shula Zaken.

What is so striking about this goes beyond revelations of the mafia-like relations between Israeli leaders and members of the business community.

More astonishing is how cheaply our politicians can be bought. I mean, Olmert not only owns real estate to the tune of millions. He can earn the kind of money Dechner gave his brother by delivering a few half-hour lectures. No wonder he scoffed at receiving $200,000 for a book.

Why someone like Olmert — whose early political career was devoted to combating corruption in sports — would risk his reputation, livelihood, power and freedom for such a pittance is as much a mystery as it is a tragedy.

Ruthie Blum is the author of “To Hell in a Handbasket: Carter, Obama, and the ‘Arab Spring.'”