Rabin’s Legacy is not Nostalgia—it is a Choice

On Saturday, 150,000 people gathered in the center of Tel Aviv to mark the 30th anniversary of Yitzhak Rabin’s assassination. At the rally, Nasreen Hadad Haj-Yahya, an NIF board member  and expert on Arab society in Israel, addressed the crowd. The time has come, she said, to build an inclusive democracy: one that reflects the diversity of Israeli society, one in which security is achieved not through military might but through collaboration and partnership. Nasreen’s words resonated deeply at this uncertain moment when many are feeling both trepidation and hope in equal measure. Her vision represents the best of what NIF stands for every day: the belief that a shared future of prosperity and unity is possible.

Below a subtitled video recording of her speech, with the full transcript in English below.

Good evening – masa’ al-kheir,

We are gathered here for an evening of shared pain, hoping to turn it into an evening of healing and of hope. After more than two years of fear, of blood, of silence we are finally taking a moment to breathe. This fragile ceasefire is the thin lifeline we’re all clinging to. And it must be a beginning—not a pause, but the opening of a path: a path of peace, of change, of returning to sanity and to a life that holds a future.

Rabin’s legacy is complex for us, the Arab citizens. It also includes painful chapters. Rabin was first and foremost a military man. But we remember Rabin because he had a kind of courage rarely seen in politics: the courage to change. With courage, he changed direction in the conflict, and changed direction in Jewish-Arab relations. At an election rally in Nazareth, he apologized for years of discrimination and promised change. His peace government was formed thanks to a historic partnership with representatives of the Arab public. Young Arab men and women for the first time entered senior positions in the public service. That was not charity. It was a worldview—a vision of true democracy that includes all citizens, Jews and Arabs, as one. That’s the courage we miss—and the courage we also need today.

Friends, I stand here tonight with the blessing of those who were not invited. The leaders of the Arab public who should have stood here, on this stage. Anyone who truly wants to build a better future must reach out for Jewish-Arab partnership—openly, not behind closed doors, not only when convenient, and not only after polling. Partnerships are built together, because democracy is for everyone—or it simply isn’t democracy. D-E-M-O-C-R-A-C-Y means Kaplan [Tel Aviv’s protest square] and Kafr Qassem, Sakhnin, and Rahat.

I am here because tuning out is easy, but connection takes courage. And we choose courage.

We choose the harder path—but the right one: a path that leads to a shared future of prosperity, not to the perpetuation of fear.

Yes, even here there are those who threaten to take away our right to vote. There are those who think democracy can survive without one-fifth of its citizens. But we are here nonetheless—and we are here to stay!

I am here to speak the truth—the brave truth that Rabin understood and internalized:

A government of repair cannot exclude the representatives of the Arab public! Democracy is strong only when everyone is equal. Democracy is strong when there is no occupation! And democracy is strong only when everyone—all of us—has security. That includes the towns of the Triangle, the Negev, and the Galilee.

Friends, we are not the threat—we are the opportunity. We are the speakers of two languages, of two cultures, of two pains and two dreams. We can be the bridge that connects—but a bridge can only connect if both sides dare to step onto it.

I ask you to reach out your hand—not as surrender, but as an act of courage. Let us be the generation that stops fearing and starts building. Let us imagine a reality where children from Tayibe and Ra’anana, from Lod and Ramallah, from Tel Aviv and Gaza—grow up not on fear, but on hope.

Friends, it’s in our hands. Rabin’s legacy is not nostalgia—it is a choice. A choice between fear that turns us into rivals, and courage that turns us into partners—yes, partners with political power who can truly change reality here!

I stand here as a mother—to Carmel, Hala, and Neil. I want my daughters to grow up alongside your children. I want them to grow up in a place that understands that diversity is strength. A place where security is built alongside justice, and where peace is born from equality.

Friends, we will be the generation that brings change—that brings equality, security, and peace.

Shukran! (Thank you.)