Published: 27 October 2020
Last updated: 4 March 2024
“RABIN MET”, some young men yelled loudly out the window of their car as we waited at the bus stop. My Hebrew wasn’t fluent yet and I wasn’t sure I had heard correctly. Rabin was dead? My boyfriend, later to be husband, and I looked at each other in confusion. We were heading home from the Russian Compound neighbourhood in Jerusalem after having a few drinks with friends.
But when the bus pulled up a few moments later we knew for certain something was up. Instead of the usual busy Saturday night vibe, the passengers were sombre and the radio was playing loudly with updates that Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin had been rushed to Ichilov hospital and died.
We looked at each other aghast still struggling not only to comprehend the language but also what had happened. A sitting Israeli prime minister had been assassinated by a Jewish extremist, not by an Arab terrorist, or from a heart attack.
The awful irony was that it had happened at a massive peace rally in Tel Aviv in favour of the recently brokered Oslo Accords with the Palestinians. We had attended similar rallies earlier in the year, buoyed by the enthusiasm for change and the optimism that there could be a different future for Jews and Palestinians in Israel, the West Bank and Gaza.
We weren’t the only ones in shock. It soon became clear that the majority of the country mourned for the former general and Nobel Peace Prize winner, regardless of their politics. It was the first time ever that an Israeli politician had been assassinated by a fellow Jew. It felt surreal and unimaginable.
Before being buried in a state funeral that was attended by a who’s who of world leaders, Rabin lay in state outside the Knesset. I joined a line that snaked back and forth for hours as Israelis from the across the country patiently waited to pay their respects.
I can’t believe this happened 25 years ago already.
Rabin’s assassin, Yigal Amir, has now spent exactly half his life in prison. He was only 25 when he shot Rabin.
So much has changed since then, making our lives almost unrecognisable from 1995. Mobile phones, social media, Google - does anyone even remember a time when we weren’t all addicted to our screens?
Then again, so much hasn’t changed, particularly for the Palestinians. Since Rabin’s assassination, Benjamin Netanyahu has won multiple elections and been the prime minister for more than 14 years, including the last 11 years. During this period, he has done his utmost to ensure that Rabin’s brave vision for a two-state solution lies in limbo.
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The Oslo Accords were intended to be an interim agreement to help broker a lasting peace treaty. Perversely, instead of fulfilling the "right of the Palestinian people to self-determination", they have helped entrench an Israeli military occupation in the West Bank that is now 53 years old.
Comparing the numbers from 25 years ago, a solution seems, unfortunately, even further away today. The number of Palestinians living in the West Bank and Gaza has almost doubled since 1995 . According to Peace Now’s Settlement Watch, in 1995 there were 134,300 settlers. Today there are an estimated 430,000+.
Projections for 2045 look even more crowded, with an estimated eight million Palestinians and an Israeli population more than 12 million. It’s hard not to envision increasing conflict as the populations continue to brush up against each other. Increased settler violence against Palestinians is just one manifestation of this.
I look back now at Rabin’s death as a turning point in Israel. I didn’t recognise it at the time but things would never really be the same.
Comparing the numbers from 25 years ago, a solution seems, unfortunately, even further away today. The number of Palestinians living in the West Bank and Gaza has almost doubled since 1995 .
I still naively hope that there can be a solution for Israelis and Palestinians that allows both populations to live in peace and dignity. While my heart is not ready to give up on the two state-solution and the dream that Rabin pursued, and paid for with his life, my head tells me it’s slipping away. This makes me immensely sad.
The recent deals between Israel and the UAE and Bahrain offer some glimmer of hope for a better outcome in the region. But for real change, Israelis and Palestinians must deal with the reality of the other in their midst.
My biggest fear is that 25 years from now, nothing will have really changed. I hope for a better future for those people who will be born over the next 25 years so that they don’t look back at Rabin’s death with the same sadness.
Photo: Yitzhak Rabin, Yasser Arafat and Bill Clinton, Oslo Accords, 1993 (Reuters)
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