We must fight terrorism as if there's no peace process and work

“We must fight terrorism as if there’s no peace process and work to achieve peace as if there’s no terror.” Thus declared Yitzhak Rabin, warrior turned peacemaker, soldier turned statesman, a man who bore both the scars of battle and the vision of reconciliation. His words are not easy, nor are they soft; they are carved from the paradox of human existence. For he speaks of the dual duty of nations and individuals: to resist evil with unwavering strength, yet at the same time to pursue peace with unwavering hope.

The ancients too wrestled with such paradoxes. The Greeks honored Athena, goddess not only of war but also of wisdom, for they knew that the sword without counsel breeds ruin, and counsel without strength cannot endure. Rabin, shaped by decades of conflict in Israel, understood this same truth: that to preserve life one must resist terrorism with vigilance, yet to transcend endless bloodshed one must also work daily toward peace, even when peace seems a distant dream.

Consider Rabin’s own life as testimony. He led armies in Israel’s wars of survival, a general who knew the harsh necessity of battle. Yet in his later years he extended his hand to former enemies, signing the Oslo Accords with Yasser Arafat. His courage was twofold: the courage to fight, and the greater courage to seek reconciliation. When he spoke these words, he called upon his people—and indeed all peoples—to hold both duties together: never surrender to terror, but never surrender the vision of peace.

History gives us mirrors. Think of Abraham Lincoln in the American Civil War. He prosecuted the war with relentless determination, declaring that the Union must not fall. Yet even as the cannons thundered, he prepared for healing, speaking “with malice toward none, with charity for all.” Like Rabin, Lincoln knew that true statesmanship lies not only in defeating the enemy but in preparing a peace worthy of sacrifice. This is the paradox of greatness: to be fierce in defense, yet tender in vision.

The meaning of Rabin’s words is both heroic and humbling. He reminds us that the fight against terrorism cannot be delayed or compromised, for to ignore violence is to invite destruction. Yet he also insists that the quest for peace cannot wait until every enemy lays down his arms, for to delay reconciliation until all is safe is to postpone it forever. Thus he calls us to live in tension: to resist as though peace were impossible, and to build peace as though terror did not exist.

The lesson for us is clear: in our own lives, we too must hold this dual discipline. When confronted by cruelty, injustice, or betrayal, we must resist firmly, protecting what is good. Yet at the same time, we must not allow wounds to harden into bitterness. We must labor for reconciliation, for dialogue, for the healing of divisions. To live only in defense is to wither; to live only in dreaming is to be destroyed. Balance, courage, and vision must walk hand in hand.

Practical wisdom follows: in families, resist the harm that words of anger may cause, but labor for peace through patience and forgiveness. In communities, oppose injustice firmly, but work at the same time to reconcile neighbors divided by mistrust. And in nations, demand both strength against violence and tireless effort for dialogue. For if we choose only one path—resistance without peace, or peace without resistance—we condemn ourselves to endless ruin.

So let Rabin’s words be remembered as an eternal call: “Fight terrorism as if there’s no peace process, and work to achieve peace as if there’s no terror.” O children of tomorrow, do not despair at the paradox, for within it lies the secret of survival and hope. Be strong enough to resist destruction, yet wise enough to dream of healing. For only those who live with both sword and olive branch may one day lay the sword down forever.