
There are many things that can be said about Yitzhak Rabin, a former prime minister of Israel, and it is difficult to fit it all into so few words here. However, something worse than not being able to write enough about him would be not writing anything at all, because there are very important lessons and principles to be gained from a figure whose vision appears lost in time. Israel is reaching a moment of truth in its history, and finding a path toward a safer future lies in contemplating Rabin’s mind.
For many months now, we have seen across debates, protests and demonstrations related to the war in Gaza the same argument: that this conflict was a war of existence that can only end in the victory of one side and the defeat of the other. Yet political extremism on either side of this issue is precisely the concave and convex of each other — both are equally condemnable for disregarding the value of human life and heritage, and the burden of misery falls on the innocent civilians living where war-devastated lives of those caught in the crossfire.
Rabin dedicated his life to serving his country, a life that came to be defined by the complexities and paradoxes of his mind and heart. A life spent in resistance to British colonial rule, fighting for Israel’s independence and reforming the Israel Defense Forces was only then followed by his internal convictions to seek a solution beyond military means. His time in the IDF is undoubtedly intertwined with atrocities felt by Palestinians, and yet during his time as army chief of staff, Rabin felt the fear that an endless cycle of violence would be the end of his country in the long run.
Rabin indeed lived through the times in Israel’s history when the war against its neighbors was fought in much more dire circumstances than today. The realization which arose from those years of despair is in essence, what led him to his ultimate aspiration of a permanent settlement between the people of Israel and Palestine. To that end, his greatest achievement was pushing forward the negotiations for the Oslo Accords, which established the Palestinian Authority and an opportunity to once and for all bring an end to the uncertainty of boundaries and violence between the two sides and work toward peace. His assassination by an Israeli extremist left these ambitions hollow, but that legacy still carries on and waits to be listened to.
What is crucial to keep in mind about Rabin is that we don’t need to put him on a pedestal to study his values. His political career had major scandals, he, at numerous times, had an active role in making hawkish decisions for the IDF and his “break their bones” tactic toward First Intifada dissenters in his country is a black and horrible mark on his past. But this does not take away our chance to seek inspiration in his mindset, ambitions and hopes for both Israel and Palestine. Of course, other people have come up with better deals than what he brokered, and of course, there were leaders bolder and more charismatic than him, and yet his legacy stands taller than all the rest because he commands and leads a symbol for chiefly pragmatic hope.
The accords were not perfect, and neither was Rabin’s life, but standing today and seeing the unfolding and persisting violence must compel us still to believe that our reality is not what humanity deserves. Rabin’s foremost principle in life is summarized in his quote, “Military cemeteries in every corner of the world are silent testimony to the failure of national leaders to sanctify human life” — so long as the history of violence is used to justify more violence, the cycle continues and misery endures. Nevertheless, Rabin’s legacy, and, most importantly, his emotions and thoughts are looked back on with convoluted attitudes among people today. He is judged not in good faith with sincere respect, but with distrust, contempt and resentment for being a so-called “traitor” of Jewish people.
Despite everything that has been said and done for military glory in this current conflict, leaders have failed to sanctify life and disregarded it to preserve self-righteousness. Seeing how his legacy is now being more and more a thing of the past, I feel compelled to advocate for what is truly necessary to achieve on holy lands. Peoples of both sides and beyond must at long last understand that the wider existential conflict will only end once it has been learned to put value into all human life — we must see with open eyes that this conflict indeed cannot end in a military victory for anyone involved. It did not end in 1948, nor in 1967, nor can it today, and it will not end in the future without a trustworthy agreement — cease-fires will be announced only to be broken again later, and the cycle will continue forever more.
Rabin represents what still is difficult to admit for many — under the face of a complicated man is the simple truth that this war of existence fought with pride was a war of eradication serving no end. To not merely follow his steps, but to take lessons from him, judge him objectively and find the courage to reach a permanent solution is the sole way forward. In his own words, “In the current reality, there are only two options: either a serious effort will be made to make peace with security … or that we will forever live by the sword”. The judgment is up to you.
Deniz Gulay is a sophomore double-majoring in history and Russian.
Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.