Yitzhak Rabin: The Soldier Who Reached for Peace

The Handshake

The photograph is one of the most recognized images of the twentieth century. Two men stand on the White House lawn. Between them, arms extended, stands President Bill Clinton. The man on the left — tall, stiff, visibly uncomfortable — is Yitzhak Rabin, Prime Minister of Israel. The man on the right — shorter, in a keffiyeh and military uniform — is Yasser Arafat, Chairman of the Palestine Liberation Organization.

They shake hands. September 13, 1993.

Rabin later described the moment with characteristic bluntness: “I who have sent soldiers to fight and die, I say to you today in a loud and clear voice: enough of blood and tears. Enough.”

Two years later, he was dead — murdered by a fellow Israeli who believed that peace was a betrayal.

Sabra

Yitzhak Rabin was born on March 1, 1922, in Jerusalem, in the British Mandate of Palestine. He was what Israelis call a sabra — a native-born Israeli, named after the prickly pear cactus that is tough on the outside and sweet inside. His parents were Labor Zionist pioneers: his mother, Rosa Cohen, was one of the first women to serve on the Haganah defense council; his father, Nehemiah Rabin, had immigrated from Ukraine.

Rabin grew up in Tel Aviv and attended the Kadoorie Agricultural High School in the Galilee. He intended to become a hydraulic engineer. The war got in the way.

He joined the Palmach — the elite strike force of the Haganah — in 1941, at age nineteen. He was trained by British officers (including Orde Wingate) and quickly rose through the ranks. He was not a charismatic leader in the theatrical sense — he was quiet, awkward, and socially uncomfortable. But he was sharp, decisive, and calm under fire.

1948

During the 1948 War of Independence, Rabin commanded the Harel Brigade, which fought to open the road to besieged Jerusalem. The battles in the Judean Hills were among the fiercest of the war — ambushes in narrow mountain passes, hand-to-hand combat, high casualties.

Rabin was also involved in one of the war’s most controversial episodes: the expulsion of Arab residents from Lydda and Ramle in July 1948. As deputy commander of Operation Dani, Rabin signed an order that led to the forced march of tens of thousands of Palestinian civilians. Decades later, he wrote about it in his memoirs, acknowledging the moral weight of the decision. The episode remains fiercely debated.

After the war, Rabin stayed in the military. He rose steadily through the ranks of the Israel Defense Forces, serving in various command positions and attending the British Staff College at Camberley.

The Six-Day War

In January 1964, Rabin was appointed Chief of Staff of the IDF — the highest military position in Israel. He held the post during one of the most dramatic events in modern Israeli history: the Six-Day War of June 1967.

In the weeks before the war, Egypt’s President Nasser mobilized forces in the Sinai, expelled UN peacekeepers, and blockaded the Straits of Tiran. Israel faced what appeared to be an existential threat on three fronts — Egypt, Syria, and Jordan.

On June 5, 1967, Israel launched a preemptive strike. In six days, the IDF defeated the armies of three nations, captured the Sinai Peninsula, the Gaza Strip, the West Bank, East Jerusalem, and the Golan Heights. The victory was total and stunning.

Rabin was the military architect of the victory. The famous photograph of him walking through the Lion’s Gate into the Old City of Jerusalem — the first time Jews had been able to visit the Western Wall since 1948 — became one of the iconic images of Israeli history.

But the victory also created the conditions for the conflict that would eventually cost Rabin his life. The territories captured in 1967 — especially the West Bank — became the central issue of Israeli politics. What to do with them? Return them for peace? Settle them? Annex them? The question consumed Israeli society for the next half century. It still does.

First Term as Prime Minister

Rabin entered politics after the Six-Day War, serving as ambassador to the United States (1968-1973) before being elected leader of the Labor Party and becoming prime minister in June 1974 — the first Israeli-born person to hold the office.

His first term was marked by accomplishments and crises. He oversaw the Entebbe rescue (July 1976), in which Israeli commandos freed hostages held by hijackers at Entebbe Airport in Uganda. His downfall came when it was revealed that his wife Leah had maintained an illegal bank account in the United States — a minor violation of Israeli currency law, but politically fatal. He resigned in April 1977, just before the election that brought Menachem Begin to power.

The Return

Rabin spent the next fifteen years rebuilding his career. He served as defense minister under Yitzhak Shamir during the First Intifada (1987-1993), gaining a reputation for toughness. His instruction to soldiers to “break bones” drew international criticism.

In 1992, he was elected prime minister for the second time, defeating Shamir in a campaign focused on peace and economic development. He was seventy years old — hardened, pragmatic, and convinced that Israel’s long-term security depended on reaching an accommodation with the Palestinians.

The Oslo Accords

The Oslo Accords were negotiated in secret in Norway, beginning in January 1993. Israeli academics and PLO officials met in a series of clandestine sessions, gradually building a framework for mutual recognition and interim self-governance.

When Rabin was informed of the progress, he was skeptical but intrigued. He authorized the continuation of the talks. In August 1993, the Declaration of Principles was finalized. In September, the famous handshake took place on the White House lawn.

The Oslo process was deeply controversial in Israel. The right wing accused Rabin of surrendering to terrorists. Settlers organized massive protests. Some rabbis issued religious rulings suggesting that territorial withdrawal was a sin. The rhetoric grew increasingly violent.

Rabin responded with the directness that defined him. He did not pretend that peace would be easy or that Arafat was a trustworthy partner. He famously said: “You don’t make peace with friends. You make peace with very unsavory enemies.”

November 4, 1995

On the evening of November 4, 1995, Rabin attended a mass peace rally in Tel Aviv’s Kings of Israel Square. Over 100,000 Israelis gathered to show their support for the peace process. Rabin, who was not a natural public speaker, addressed the crowd with uncharacteristic warmth. He sang “Shir LaShalom” (Song for Peace) alongside the other speakers. A folded, blood-stained copy of the song’s lyrics was later found in his jacket pocket.

As he walked to his car after the rally, a twenty-five-year-old Israeli law student named Yigal Amir approached from behind and fired three shots. Two bullets struck Rabin in the back. He was rushed to Ichilov Hospital, where he was pronounced dead at 11:15 PM.

Amir was a religious-nationalist extremist who had concluded that the Oslo process was a mortal threat to the Land of Israel and that Jewish law permitted — even required — the killing of a Jew who endangered Jewish lives by giving away Jewish land. He acted alone, but the atmosphere of incitement that preceded the assassination — rallies where Rabin was depicted in Nazi uniform, rabbinical pronouncements, death threats — was a collective failure.

”Shalom, Chaver”

Rabin’s funeral, held on November 6, 1995, was attended by leaders from around the world — including Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, King Hussein of Jordan, and Prince Charles. President Clinton delivered a eulogy that ended with two Hebrew words: “Shalom, chaver” — “Goodbye, friend.”

The phrase became one of the most iconic moments in Israeli-American relations. Bumper stickers bearing the words appeared across Israel within hours.

King Hussein’s eulogy was equally powerful: “I had never thought that the moment would come like this when I would grieve the loss of a brother, a colleague, and a friend.”

Legacy

Rabin’s assassination was a watershed in Israeli history. It demonstrated that the threat to Israeli democracy could come from within. It traumatized the peace camp. It emboldened extremists who saw that violence could derail the political process.

The square where the rally was held was renamed Rabin Square. A memorial stands at the spot where he fell. Every year on the anniversary of his death, Israelis gather there to remember.

Whether Rabin’s vision of peace could have succeeded will never be known. What is known is this: a soldier who spent his entire life defending his country concluded that security alone was not enough — that Israel also needed peace. He reached out his hand. And someone shot him for it.