Perhaps the singular lasting image of John McCain came
during a Minnesota town hall meeting ten years ago. A woman in the audience said “I can’t trust
Obama. I have read about him, and he’s not, um, he’s an Arab.” McCain then cut the woman off, responding, “No,
ma’am. He’s a decent family man [and] citizen that just I just happen to have
disagreements with on fundamental issues, and that’s what the campaign’s all
about. He’s not [an Arab].” In
hindsight, McCain should have added that even if Obama had been an Arab that
wouldn’t make him untrustworthy. But as
a spur-of-the-moment response by a politician, McCain’s was exemplary. Given an
opportunity to fuel the anti-Obama frenzy, he instead chose to point out that his
opponent was a decent man and a fine American.
McCain also modeled that in a democracy, ethical politicians fight
fairly and honestly. In short, when it
counted the most, McCain’s instinct was to put honor above winning. That is why so many of us chose to honor him
last week.
On Wednesday, I was reminded of that incident while
watching a documentary on the Oslo Peace Accords entitled “The Oslo Diaries.” The film’s most chilling scene was real
footage from Jerusalem’s Zion Square on October 5, 1995. There, thousands of right-wing Jews gathered to
hurl venom at Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. Rabin, who had served 27 years in the
Israeli army, had become a reluctant peace maker, determined to implement the
so-called “two-state solution” if at all possible. However, on that October evening in Zion
Square, the crowd had no patience for peacemakers, least of all Rabin. They displayed posters of their prime minister
donning a Nazi uniform or serving as Arafat’s loyal dog. But the most hideous image of that rally was
the chant of “Death to Rabin! Death to
Rabin!” Less than a month later in Tel
Aviv, the prime minister was, indeed, assassinated by a Jew who had opposed the
Oslo Accords. A year later, Rabin’s
party lost the national election by less than 1 percent of the vote.
The Zion Square mob scene was, in many ways, the
polar opposite of the calm town hall meeting 13 years later in Minnesota. But the one common element was that there was
a politician – the so-called “leader of the national opposition” -- at the
forefront. In the case of Zion Square,
the politician was a 45-year-old Benyamin Netanyahu. Netanyahu had already made quite a name for
himself criticizing the Oslo Accords.
For example, he had previously taken to the floor of the Knesset and
attacked Rabin for giving away “parts of our homeland” (i.e., the land needed
to create a space for a Palestinian state adjacent to Israel). But speaking – even shouting – on the floor
of the Knesset was one thing; standing up in front of a mob of vicious,
hate-filled anti-peace activists is something very different. And when the time came for Netanyahu to
respond to the chants of “Death to Rabin,” he just kept on fanning the flames
of passion, seemingly unconcerned about letting things get out of hand.
I’m not suggesting that Netanyahu wanted Rabin to
be shot. But when you become the leader
of an anti-peace movement, you have responsibilities. One is to dampen the rage when your
supporters call for your rival’s death.
Netanyahu did nothing of the sort.
He put winning above honor. And,
to be sure, he was elected Prime Minister in 1996. He won, McCain lost. So did Rabin.
So did the peace process.
The Oslo Diaries is a film well worth seeing by all
of you. It did more than expose Netanyahu. It also, in a different way, exposed Shimon
Peres, the long-time peacemaker who was given the opportunity to succeed
Rabin. As they say in sports, when Rabin
was assassinated, Peres “choked.” Being
a big-hearted liberal, Peres understandably had trouble coping with his beloved
leader’s death. He largely mourned when
he should have exclaimed. Optimally, Rabin’s
shooting by a member of his own people would have spurred on Peres to give his
own defiant Netanyahu-style speech at a
public square. He could have brought the
house down in a Tel Aviv analogue to Zion Square (Tel Aviv is the left-wing
capital of Israel, Jerusalem the right-wing capital), saying things like: “The
peace movement is strong. We all are its
soldiers. We know that whenever we fight
this war, we risk our lives. Soldiers
are prepared to do just that – and to die fighting. We will not be stopped by murderers. For we are the future of humanity. And they – the murderers, the terrorists –
they are misguided animals. Jew, Arab,
cold-blooded, hot-blooded. It doesn’t
matter. If you are a murderer, if you
are a terrorist, you are an animal. Humanity
will not be deterred by your kind ever again.”
Yes, that defiant speech could have been given over
and over again during the weeks after Rabin’s shooting on November 4, 1995. Had that happened, who knows which man would
have won the election of 1996, or how such speeches could have affected the
peace process or the history of the Middle East. But Peres didn’t have the stomach for such
defiance in the fall of 1995, and as The Oslo Diaries chronicled, his top aides
didn’t have the heart to yell at him to get up and fight. It’s a shame.
But you can forgive Peres’s reaction after the Tel Aviv shooting a lot
more easily than Netanyahu’s reaction in the face of the Jerusalem mob.
Last but not least, The Oslo Diaries is worth
seeing for what it says about the “little people” -- you know, the ones who according
to the proverbial Hollywood acceptance speech are thanked for “making it all
possible.” In this case, the “little
people” included a couple of unknown academics who, at least on the Jewish
side, kick-started the entire Oslo process by themselves. Unlike Oprah, Uma, and
Keanu, these academics aren’t “stars” even today. Their names are known to only a small number
of people. Likely, that will not change,
for the Oslo Diaries isn’t fated to become a smash hit, unlike “Transformers:
Age of Extinction,” “Despicable Me 3,” or “The Fate of the Furious,” all of
whom have grossed over a billion dollars.
I’m not even sure how easy it will be for you to
view The Oslo Diaries. While I saw the
film thanks to the Washington Jewish Film Festival, I have heard that there are
actually cities in the world that don’t even have a Jewish Film Festival. Perish the thought. But if you are fortunate enough to locate and
see that film, please consider that the Oslo Peace Accords gave our species
perhaps its greatest chance for a lasting peace between the Israelis and Palestinians. And Oslo wouldn’t have happened without a
tiny number of non-celebrities who were just trying to help. Did those people actually help? That could be debated. But can they serve as inspiration for all of us
– as reminders that even we the little people can make a difference, or at
least try? You’re damned right they
can.
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