Rabin Annual Lecture: "Building A Secure Peace"
As I was watching the video, I suppose like many of you here, there was another video playing in your heads of other moments that you recall—either in person or through pictures or television—of this extraordinary man whom I consider a personal hero. I thought of the times that the Prime Minister and Leah Rabin and Bill and I would talk together, and the jokes that would pass back and forth between them and among us. I know, as any parent or grandparent would, how our hearts swelled and our eyes filled as we saw again Noah's extraordinary eulogy. I also remember, as Leah does, the moments that we sat together with extraordinary pride watching our husbands move forward, hope against history.
I also remember being accused by the Prime Minister of endangering the peace process because I would not let either the Prime Minister or King Hussein smoke in the White House. When my husband became President, we declared the White House a "no-smoking" zone. It didn't bother me about anyone other than the Prime Minister and the King. But as they would come in and out of the White House, one or the other would turn and chide me that I was sending them out into the cold; I was denying them the comforts of their habits. I was, I have to tell you, often very weak in my resolve, and I would say, "Well, if it will further the effort toward peace, I will rescind the rule, but only as it applies to the two of you!" I also never persuaded him to dance with me. I wish I had!
You know, being here for my fifth trip to Israel, and the fourth since coming to the White House, has filled me with memories of hope and joy and of tragedy and despair. I remember very well our first trip when Bill and I came as private citizens over New Year's in 1981-82, when we spent more than 10 days and were able to travel freely throughout the country. I said to Nava earlier that I am so glad that I had that trip, because it's very different coming to Israel and being able to go from Masada to the Galilee and from Cesarea to Jerusalem, from one end to the other and throughout Tel Aviv and enjoy the nightlife. It's very different coming as a private citizen and coming with an entourage and a motorcade. Because I was so fortunate to come here earlier with Bill, I have such a sense of what it feels like in the streets and the markets and the villages. I hope some day to return again without all of the accompanying efforts that go into a trip such as mine.
My husband has spoken often of that first trip we took, and he tells the story of his pastor who had come to the Holy Land every year since the 1930's—a man named W. O. Vaught—who told Bill and me very seriously that we had an obligation never to let Israel down because God would never forgive that. Like Bill, I remember those words and strive to live up to them by supporting the long-term peace and security of Israel, and by supporting the goal that Prime Minister Rabin fought for, lived for, and died for. His life was Israel's history and his legacy must be Israel's future.
When I told a friend of mine that I would be traveling here to Israel to deliver this lecture, he gave me a copy of last week's Torah reading from Genesis 25. You may recall it. It's when Yitzhak and Ishmael are finally reunited after decades of estrangement. They come together in quiet dignity to bury their father, Abraham. Throughout the book of Genesis we see such divisions and enmities overcome by the power of God's true intentions for the inhabitants of this Holy Land. We see Jacob fearing that his brother Esau was coming to murder him, but after years of alienation, they embraced. We see Joseph's brothers fearing retribution and receiving forgiveness.
That was the message of Oslo, echoed by President Clinton, Prime Minister Barak, and Chairman Arafat: How we can fulfill Rabin's legacy by bidding farewell to generations of war and ushering in a new century of real and lasting peace? The same must be true on all of Israel's borders so that the peace that now covers some will be a peace that extends to all—Palestinians, Syrians and Lebanese.
Now by working for peace, we are not being naïve or soft-headed. That was one of the lessons Prime Minister Rabin taught us all. We recognize, as he did, that peace in the Middle East is not only a moral imperative, but the smartest strategic choice to ensure security for the children of Israel. That doesn't mean that Israel can ever let down her defenses. It doesn't mean that her friends, especially the United States, will ever be relieved of our responsibility to help Israel maintain her military strength.
But Prime Minister Rabin believed that reaching this promised land of peace and security was the best way to protect Israel from the deadly marriage of terrorism at home, and missiles and weapons of mass destruction from abroad. He knew peace would not come easy. How many times, as we saw in the video, have the enemies of peace tried to derail the peace process by targeting sons and daughters, soldiers and prime ministers, by targeting a people's sense of security and humanity? How many times have terrorists and enemies of peace tried to use violence to force a nation and its leaders to throw up their hands in defeat and walk away from the journey?
We saw in the video the great emotion that occurred when those young Israeli paratroopers collapsed and wept against the Western Wall. I thought about the ultimate sacrifices that Prime Minister Rabin saw time and time again as he sent children—15- and 16-year-old children—into battle. I have met parents of soldiers still missing in action. It's hard for me to imagine waiting for word of what happened to one's child—waiting as birthdays go by or high holidays are marked. I was pleased when my husband signed a law that sends a message to the region that the United States will not rest until we uncover the fate of every single Israeli soldier.
Before coming here this evening, Nava and I visited the Rabin Medical Center and we saw, Leah, the newborn nursery named for you and contributed to by our great friends King Hussein and Queen Noor. We saw mothers cradling their healthy babies—Jewish and Arab. These infants didn't know it yet, but they could become the first generation to grow up in an Israel free from terror and war. But if we are to make that dream a reality, we have some work to do. First and foremost, we should be guided by courageous leaders willing to take risks for peace, willing to endure setbacks, willing to understand as Rabin did that peace is something you make with your enemies—not with your friends.
We have to stand by leaders, but the real work of peace must be done by citizens. It is that work, day in and day out, that each of us has to do. The United States will do its part. We Americans will honor the peace process by fighting terrorism and intimidation; by helping the parties, not by imposing decisions upon them; by honoring the peace process; by fighting for the foreign aid that helps guarantee Israelis' security and brings prosperity and stability to the West Bank and Gaza. I know the President is very pleased that Republicans and Democrats in Congress are moving toward the approval of the assistance promised at Wye River. So Americans will do all we can to keep faith with Israel. But our peacemakers are not only leaders or diplomats, but ordinary citizens—especially, I would argue, women and children.
In Leah's book about her husband and their life together, she talks about their last day, about how he had been warned about the rally. But there was something else worrying him. He was wondering whether or not people were supporting peace, not just in large crowds, but in the quiet moments around their kitchen tables when they talked with one another or when they encountered each other around street corners. Because he understood that agreements between leaders are the beginning, not the end, of peace. Whether peace takes hold depends upon peace becoming a habit of the heart, shaping the way Israelis, Palestinians, Syrians, and Lebanese treat and talk about one another; shaping messages of respect broadcast by their media to their people; shaping the lessons that children learn in their classrooms and the ones their parents tell them as they tuck them into bed at night.
I have been privileged to travel to many countries and meet many citizen peacemakers. Their names will not ever appear in a headline or on a television news show, but they are showing in a very real, daily way what it takes to put generations of hatred behind us. From Northern Ireland to El Salvador to South Africa, I've met with women who have lost sons and fathers, husbands and loved ones; women who had fought each other through terror and in war, but who are now sitting across tables from one another to help build a common future. Think if you will for a moment of a place like Kigali, Rwanda, where 800,000 women, men and children were slaughtered in the space of a few months. How does one make sense of a future so stained with blood? But I met with Rwandan women not so long ago, and they asked me for only one thing. They didn't ask me for resources from our government; they asked me if I could help them build a playground in the middle of Kigali. They understood that it takes those small steps, those daily acts of courage, and they envisioned a playground where children would play again like children should, and where their parents could once again believe in the future.
That was the goal that Prime Minister Rabin taught all of us to seek, and he knew that it wasn't enough to imagine living without war. We also needed to imagine living with adequate health care, with education, with economic opportunity and dignity. Yesterday I met some young people from the Peres Peace Center who gave me one of their peace calendars. They are selling these calendars to raise money to buy computers to link Israeli youngsters with Palestinians. At ELEM, I met teenagers who had joined the campaign against violence and had found their way off the streets and back to school. I have seen over and over again, both in Israel and in the West Bank and Gaza, a commitment to bringing healthy babies into the world—a commitment to making life better.
One of the most interesting stories I heard today was at the Sha'are Zedek Hospital in Jerusalem. I was told that two infants—one Jewish, one Moslem—were both x-rayed on the same day. When the x–rays came back, they included a strange rectangular outline that had absolutely no medical explanation. It turned out that the mothers of these babies had tucked two small booklets in each of their baby's sheets before sending their baby off to be x-rayed. The mother of the Moslem child had left the Koran, and the mother of the Jewish child had left the book of mysticism that was meaningful to her. All parents have the same concerns, fears, hopes and dreams for their children.
We all know that the work of peace and the work of democracy are neverending. When I talk with people in new democracies around the world, I remind them that our country is still working to perfect our own union and democracy. Whether or not we are successful in seeking and obtaining peace depends on how we see one another and see ourselves. We've heard lectures about morality and ethics, about law and politics, about economics, and all the reasons why peace does make strategic sense. But a few weeks ago, at the White House, my husband and I heard a lecture that had a profound effect on both of us. He mentioned it in his remarks at Oslo. We had two scientists speaking about two of the most astonishing changes that are occurring in the world as we enter a new century—changes in information technology and in genetics. And the geneticist said to us that despite all of our many outward differences—of race and religion, of ethnicity and tribe, of gender and region—we are still, as human beings, 99.9 percent identical in our genetic makeup. Think about what that means: All the wars, all the violence, all the hatred that has been based on that one-tenth of one percent. Imagine what we could accomplish if, while celebrating our differences, we taught our children to draw strength from that 99.9 percent that makes up our common humanity. Think of the message that would send—from the Balkans to Central Africa to Northern Ireland—to all the places ripped apart by violence and bloodshed. Think of the affirmation of all that we hold dear, if the people of the Middle East are able to defy history and raise their children in peace.