As sleepy, complacent and apathetic as our nation is, I thought that an election campaign − especially the one that followed the social protests of 18 months ago − would wake it up, if only for the moment.

I guess I was harking back to the 1981 election campaign, the only one I ever experienced from the politicians’ side, as an aide to Shimon Peres. I’ll never forget the soft tomatoes thrown in the park, the rotten eggs thrown in the square, police on horseback extricating us from the angry crowds, and the fiery speeches and large rallies wherever we went − and believe me, we went everywhere.

I expected to cover another such election campaign, as might have been expected in a society torn and divided, fighting for its identity, direction, and definition. I never thought I would get nostalgic for the hatred, contempt, violence and rage of 1981, but hard as it might be to believe, I found myself missing those days badly.

We crossed the country as I did then, but found it to be a Sleeping Beauty that was impossible to awaken. The shocking testimony of several Shin Bet security service heads, the threatening economic realities, the occupation that swallows up everything good, our abominable international standing − none of this seemed to faze anyone. The candidates were groggy, their listeners were sleepy, the parlor meetings, assemblies and rallies were all somnolent, with candidates and voters snoring in unison.

The last time they had seemed at all animated was during the party primaries, when their personal fates were on the line. But since the party lists were set, even this small flame had gone out. Whether it was Tzipi Livni, Shelly Yacimovich and Yair Lapid at the universities, Omer Bar-Lev in his living room or Ahmed Tibi in one Arab town or another, it was all one big yawn.

There seemed to be no rage, anywhere, about anything, no hatred, and not even any sharp criticism other than the usual Israeli kvetching, devoid of any feeling other than apathy. The voters asked polite questions, most of which dealt with trivial matters, and the candidates gave polite speeches, most of which dealt with trivial matters. Where is hatred when you need it? Where is the fervor and the fire − or at least a little smoke? There was none of that, anywhere.

There were very few gatherings, actually − there wasn’t even a single rally in a public square during this entire boring campaign, and even the parlor meetings were sparsely attended. Likud-Yisrael Beiteinu seemed most conspicuous by its absence, but the other parties also seemed to be doing no more than the minimum required.

Where are the days of platform committees that conducted fiery debates over every comma and hyphen? Where are the days of party PR staffs collapsing under the demand for parlor meetings and assemblies? Party branches have been turned into kindergartens and stores, and they’re building hotels on what were once party headquarters. Other than in the Arab communities, you can walk through the streets and not see a single party poster, whereas once they would be found hanging from every balcony and tacked onto every tree.

Where are the flyers that used to be dropped from the sky and covered the ground of our youth? Where are the cars with their blaring loudspeakers? A tourist arriving here during this election season would have a hard time knowing that there was an election coming up. Perhaps he might notice the buses bearing the portrait of our dear leader, and think we had some kind of North Korean-type personality cult going on here, not an election. “A strong leader,” as a central election slogan. Can there be anything more hollow than that?

How lacking was this election campaign in great ideas; how shallow and empty of ideals. The only issue was the person at the helm − what he wears and how he looks. Parties were referred to by their leaders’ names − vote Naftali Bennett, Lapid or Livni, we were told. One candidate promised no ministers without portfolio, the other promised a sharing of the burden; one promised his party would join the government, the other promised hers wouldn’t. And what of the fateful issues − the occupation, the Iranian bomb, the economy? Where was even the “Peres will divide Jerusalem” of old?

Where was the left and the right? Where was the anger and the hatred? Yes, hatred! Because hatred for a certain path, and even for a particular party or candidate, is not inappropriate; apathy is immeasurably worse.

The experts say that everything has moved to the Internet, but the Internet was also far too tame, and in any case, it’s no substitute for the public square. Now that this snoozefest is drawing to a close, we can only say: Thank God it’s over.