COLUMN Lessons in Peace

From Charles Ornstein's "Paving the Way," Fall '95 From Charles Ornstein's "Paving the Way," Fall '95The bunker was like many others I had seen visiting battlefields across America. Its entryway was very small and its gun turrets offered a perfect view of the land surrounding it, allowing soldiers to shoot at their enemies down below with relative ease. I visited Israel in the winter of 1994, three months after Israel agreed to recognize the Palestinian Liberation Organization and grant the Palestinian people limited autonomy. It was a time of quiet reflection for many -- and a time of deep divide. Signs on balconies, cars and billboards clashed, showing the clear sense of discord among the Israeli residents. Some offered a plea for "Peace Now," while others stressed the importance of "The Nation with the Golan." It was a frightening realization to see firsthand how integral the Golan Heights were to Israel's security. And it was equally scary to learn how important that same strip of land was to a lasting peace in the Middle East that included all Arab countries. At what cost would peace come? I must admit that like many of my friends and relatives, I was skeptical about the exchange of Israeli soil for "a guarantee of peace." I learned the historical significance of the land in Jewish day school, and I wondered if "peace," as an ideal, could exist in the Middle East. One man changed my mind. That man was Yitzhak Rabin. Rabin's remarks at the 1993 White House ceremony in which he and PLO Chairman Yassir Arafat signed the Mideast peace accord stirred powerful emotions in me at the time, and continue to do so today: "The time for peace has come. We, the soldiers who have returned from battles stained with blood, we who have seen our relatives and friends killed before our eyes?we who have come from a land where parents bury children, we who have fought against you, the Palestinians -- we say today in a loud and clear voice: Enough of blood and tears. Enough." The words truly came from Rabin's heart. A military man by profession, Rabin fought in Israel's war for independence and orchestrated its victory over Arab aggressors in the Six Day War of 1967. He was a freedom fighter and a revolutionary -- at his best during war. Yet Rabin will be remembered in the future not for his military intellect, but for the peace that he created in the Middle East. I met Rabin in the fall of 1993, a month after the White House ceremony, at a conference in Montreal. His tales of war and hopes for peace left the 2,000-person audience in tears. "We have come to try to put an end to the hostilities so that our children, our children's children, will no longer experience the painful costs of war," he said, after telling us stories of parents who buried their children killed in Israeli wars. As an American Jew who had not yet been to Israel, I had seen the Israeli government trade the Sinai Peninsula to Egypt in exchange for peace in the early '80s. And I had seen how little that changed the balance of power in the region. Yet, Rabin's peace overtures were even more far-reaching, and as a result, worthy of consideration and support. He was attempting to make peace with the arch-enemy of his people: an organization that had been linked to terrorism and the murders of countless Israeli citizens. Saturday, when Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated, I felt a personal loss. One man's efforts to make the world a better place were crushed by another man's bullets. While many cried, gathered for vigils or stared at their televisions in disbelief, others rejoiced. Iranian President Hashemi Rafsanjani called the murder "God's warning to humanity." "According to a principle of belief, we believe that whoever unsheathes the sword of tyranny will be killed by the same sword," Rafsanjani said. Others danced and lit fireworks in Lebanon to celebrate the assassination. It was hard to believe that people were celebrating the death of a martyr whose goal was to reach out and not remain isolated. As Rabin is laid to rest in Israel today, it is important to use the sad occasion as an opportunity to reinforce his beliefs and stress his vision. It is essential to look at the support worldwide for peace and not to let his assassination hinder the drive. It is necessary for the world to reflect on its priorities and redouble its efforts for peace. To allow the assassination to derail the peace process would send the message that Rabin's assassin won. I look forward to returning to Israel within the next several years. However, I foresee a country radically different from the one I left in January 1994 -- a country wedded to Rabin's ideals. A country where tourists do not have to be escorted by guides with guns. President Clinton's words Saturday night echo this feeling: "Peace must be and peace will be Prime Minister Rabin's lasting legacy."