Years after the murder of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin in 1995, attempts were made to establish some sort of common ground between the different sectors that make up Israeli society.
The shock and trauma born of that staggering murder that served to exemplify the power and influence of one’s hate, caused a national need for a common, comforting idea that would bring the people together.
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Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and Shimon Peres at a Tel Aviv peace rally in November 1995, shortly before his murder
(Photo: Michael Kramer)
These attempts failed, the walls between each sector and population only grew taller, as did the divide. Marking someone a “traitor” became the norm, an obsession, and a tool.
The lesson that did stick was taught to us by none other than Rabin’s wife, the late Leah Rabin. It was a moment that received few mentions despite its importance.
After the murder, the sight of grieving demonstrators standing outside the Rabin family home, wishing to strengthen and support the family, was a common sight. On one occasion, Leah Rabin stepped out to thank the grieving demonstrators.
"It's good you came, it's a shame you did not come sooner," she said.
Leah’s remark wasn’t a sarcastic one or an angry one, but one peppered with a small pinch of rebuke.
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Police fire water cannons at anti-Netanyahu protesters outside the prime minister's residence in Jerusalem
(Photo: AP)
The lesson was this: Don’t turn up after the fact, come out before the worst happens. Don’t let the tiresome routine, the fatigue and the desperation numb you to the events happening all around you.
Take hold of your future.
Rabin was murdered at the end of a peace rally attended by many who had chosen to stay silent at their homes up until that evening.
That rally, which took place in what is known today as Rabin Square in Tel Aviv, marked the end to the apathy and blindness that characterized most of the normative public, which finally chose to take back the streets from the unruly protesters who were busy calling Rabin a traitor.
At that rally, the public showed its love for its leader. And Rabin, who was never good at hiding his emotions, was as happy and moved as he could be.
But all the support, all the love came too late.
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Police arrest a demonstrator at a Tel Aviv rally over the right to public protests
(Photo: Reuters)
First came the so-called halakhic quibbles about whether or not it was permissible to assassinate a prime minister, then came the assault on Rabin’s vehicle during a wild and violent demonstration, followed closely by ritualistic Jewish ceremonies meant to guarantee someone’s death and more.
Those who weren’t there cannot possibly remember how we watched as a true hero of Israel became a sitting duck for extremists. Back then we had no idea where hate and zealotry could lead us. Today we know all too well.
During these events calling for Rabin’s blood, the normative public failed to speak up, to protect democracy from these violent people who seized control of the streets and public discourse with blood-curdling utterances.
Since then we have become wiser. In the face of subsequent leaders that have proven lax, disappointing, and promiscuous, the public has learnt to take back its future and become its own leader.
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Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu at the opening of his corruption trial in Jerusalem
(Photo: Reuters)
Take for example the public protests of 2011, which saw hundreds of thousands spill into the streets to protest the exorbitant cost of living in Israel under Benjamin Netanyahu’s leadership. Or take any of the thriving non-governmental movements that have given rise to generations of opinionated and politically active Israelis who speak out against racism and incitement.
The current protests against the continued rule of a criminal defendant who does everything in his power to crush the institutions of the rule of law is further proof we have learnt our lesson.
Demonstrations have never lost their power and potential. The growth of the social networks has not hurt them either. On the contrary, it allows them to resonate with and inspire even more people.
Street protests can be elusive. When they're not authentic, they lose all meaning and power, but when they're driven by real passion, anger and fear for the fate of society and the state, their power is unquestionable.
True demonstrations are driven by the voice within us, the one that is inexplicably stronger than we think and calls on us to realize the bitter lessons we have learned, to continue to fight even if the odds are against us.
The days where we could simply cast our votes and then sleep soundly are over. Consider the lesson learned.