Yitzhak Rabin's Assassination and the Dilemmas of Commemoration

1 Introduction

1 Introduction 1 Introduction On November 4, 1995, Yitzhak Rabin, Israel’s prime minister and minister of defense, was assassinated in Tel Aviv as he and his bodyguards made their way to a bullet-proof car at the conclusion of a rally in support of the emerging peace process with the Palestinians—a policy Rabin had led since 1993. His assassin, an Orthodox Jewish law student, who belonged to the radical Israeli Right, took his skullcap off his head some time before the shooting and waited for Rabin in the dark. The rest is history; some would say hysteria. Following the official death announcement made by Rabin’s personal assistant at the entrance of a nearby hospital, thousands of Israelis gathered at the assassination site and in front of Rabin’s private home in north Tel Aviv. The mourners lit candles, sang sad and nostalgic songs and cried. In Jerusalem, many waited to pass in front of Rabin’s coffin before the funeral which took place forty-eight hours later. The funeral itself was attended by local and international dignitaries including the leaders of eighty nations from around the world who came to pay their respects to the slain leader and to show their support for the Israeli state.1 By the end of the traditional Jewish week of mourning (shiva), the process of commemoration had begun. In the thirteen years since the assassination, numerous squares, neighborhoods , promenades, parks, gardens, office buildings and streets throughout Israel (and around the world) have been named after Rabin.2 In July 1997, the Israeli parliament (Knesset) enacted a law establishing an official memorial day. Another law ensured the founding of the Yitzhak Rabin Center which will operate—in the words of its well-known architect Moshe Safdie—“in the grand tradition of American presidential libraries.”3 Mass annual memorial ceremonies in which hundreds of thousands of Israelis participate take place at the Kings of Israel Square—where the fatal demonstration took place—now renamed Rabin Square. A monument has been erected at the spot where Rabin was shot, and metal coins—marking the exact spots where Rabin, his body guard, the assassin and some others stood when the shots were fired—have been permanently placed in the ground. The monument 1 2 Yitzak Rabin’s Assassination and Dilemmas of Commemoration in Tel Aviv and the gravesite in Jerusalem have become pilgrimage sites for many Israelis on Rabin’s memorial days as well as on other symbolic dates. Numerous forms of media and a variety of artists4 have expressed their emotions and worldviews concerning the assassination. Bumper stickers (e.g., “Shalom, Friend,” “Friend, I remember,” “Friend, you are missed,” and “11.4.95”) and other artifacts commemorating Rabin abound. Scores of books and picture albums have been published. Songs have been composed and performed. Art exhibitions have been dedicated to the event. Rabin’s assassination has featured in the foreground and background of films and television shows. Around the tenth anniversary of the assassination, even a musical about Rabin’s life and death was produced. Hardly a week goes by in which either Rabin or his assassination is not mentioned in the media in one way or another. Some joke that eventually people will live on the corner of Rabin Street and Rabin Avenue. Even those who are worried about the current and future content of the memory of Rabin’s assassination , have a hard time complaining about its presence. Rabin is, in effect, a highly present absence. The ample forms of commemorations for Rabin enacted in the public sphere draw considerable crowds and attest to the significance of Rabin’s assassination. Taken together, the mnemonic activities and artifacts form a dense “map of memory,”5 which creates the impression of an entire nation commemorating the assassination of its elected prime minister and sharing a unified perception of this tragic and painful past. In one sense, this map of memory requires no explanation: As Kertzer has observed, the “deaths of political leaders are always heavily ritualized” (1988: 139)—all the more so if these leaders were assassinated. The quantity and diversity of mnemonic practices, however, should not mislead us. A closer examination of the various mnemonic forms commemorating Rabin’s assassination suggests that they are far from shared as the past involved is a difficult, controversial, and painful one. As is the case in many other societies around the world where monuments, historical museums, and apologetic memorial...