In the year since his death, Yitzhak Rabin has moved from controversial Israeli leader to martyred hero, making it difficult to separate man from myth. As his first yahrzeit approaches, though, it is instructive to attempt to assess his tenure as prime minister, his death at the hand of a Jewish assassin and his legacy for future generations.
Throughout his career, Rabin was a man more respected than beloved. Gruff and impatient, he was a military man with an emphasis on security. As defense minister, he spoke of “breaking the bones” of those Palestinians taking part in the intifada. But after being elected prime minister in 1992, and promising to move toward an accord with the Palestinians within nine months, Rabin acted on his long-held belief that it would be necessary for Israel to give up land to achieve peace.
He began to work more closely with his political rival, Shimon Peres, to make a bold move toward peace with the Palestinians.
The result was the Oslo Accords, which in turn led to a peace agreement with Jordan. The benefits were dramatic: wide-scale diplomatic support for Israel, long considered a pariah; improved business with the international community, and even some Arab countries; and the growing belief in the Mideast that peace was indeed possible after so many years of hatred and war.
Unfortunately, the disadvantages of the Israeli move were also dramatic: Islamic militant fundamentalists, opposed to any accommodation with Israel, launched a series of suicide attacks that killed scores of Israelis and shook the nation’s sense of security.
After the initial euphoria resulting from the September 1993 handshake between Rabin and Arafat on the White House lawn, signifying the first agreement between Jerusalem and the Palestinians, Israelis split over whether Rabin’s policies were moving their country closer to war or peace.
Opponents of the Oslo Accords stepped up their protests, and some called Rabin a traitor. He, in turn, reacted with anger at the Jewish settlers and others who criticized him, and the gap widened. Ironically, it was Rabin’s assassination at the hand of a former yeshiva student that brought the country closer together for a time.
There were expressions of shock and sympathy, and pledges to end the kind of civil discord that led to a Jew murdering a Jew.
Sadly, but not surprisingly, that modicum of unity soon receded in the wake of more terrorist bombings and the national election campaign between Rabin’s successor, Shimon Peres, and Likud leader Benjamin Netanyahu.
Many believe that had Rabin lived, he would have been re-elected since he, unlike Peres, had the trust and confidence of most Israelis that he would not sacrifice security for a peace agreement.
That is speculation, of course, and it is worth remembering that Rabin trailed Netanyahu in the polls a year ago.
Even today, one could cite last month’s tragic mini-war between Israelis and Palestinians that left scores dead and mistrust at a high point as proof that Rabin was a prophetic statesman — or disastrous leader — depending on one’s bias. It could be said that the fact that Palestinian police, armed by Israel, fired at Israelis was proof that the Oslo Accords were fatally flawed. It could also be said that had Rabin succeeded in reducing points of tension with the Palestinians, new levels of trust and agreement could have been reached and violence avoided.
What is clear from the outpouring of grief after Rabin’s death, particularly among young people, is that he — above all Israeli political leaders — was trusted as a man of flexibility as well as toughness. What is not clear is whether he would have been able to move ahead on the road to peace without losing the support of the majority of his people or jeopardizing Israeli security.
Historians will debate Yitzhak Rabin’s role for many years. What we can do is remember him as a man of substance and courage, and honor his memory by redoubling our efforts to heal the wounds between Jew and Jew, as well as Arab and Jew, so that his death will not have been in vain.