Madam Speaker of the Knesset, Dalia Itzik,
The Honorable Minister of Defense, Ehud Barak,
Chairman of the Opposition, Benjamin Netanyahu,
Shulamit Shamir and members of the Shamir Family,
Members of the Jabotinsky Institute and Yediot Aharonot,
Members of Knesset, Ministers,
Friends and Admirers of Yitzhak Shamir,

I debated whether or not to follow in my predecessors’ footsteps and compose a pre-written speech, but decided that what I wanted to write, I wrote in the book and I also said them on the occasion of Yitzhak Shamir’s 85th birthday.  That is why I decided to tell several personal stories that I remember which are related to Yitzhak Shamir.  However, I nevertheless fear that I am going to be – briefly – a bit “non-politically correct” and say that tonight is not about conducting an argument about Yitzhak Shamir’s beliefs, his legacy or his policy, and I will not stray from this rule; but I think it only fair to say that today, with the perspective of time, when we look back at things, it may be that some people – and I include myself among them – did not look at things with a long-term outlook and it may be that there was room to have other positions on matters.  I say these things because I wonder, if we could speak with Yitzhak now and ask him what the right policy should be now, if he would say the things we assume are obvious – that they would continue on with the same sequence, not about the basic belief, of course, not about the profound sense of commitment about which there can be no argument regarding the Land of Israel and what he feels.  However, in the spirit of what I wrote in my article that he said – that I was a more practical Jew than people often tend to think I was – I believe he was a more practical Jew than we tend to attribute to him from a historic perspective which is quite short actually.

I believe that if Yitzhak Shamir was asked today, it is possible that he would say things which are not exactly identical to those things which some of us, or some of the public here tonight, would like to hear, and there are things that a large percentage of the public here tonight certainly continues to cling to as Shamir clung to them then, in that reality and the data of the time; but he was realistic enough and smart enough and thorough enough to know that reality changes, and when reality changes you sometimes need to look at things, maybe even from angles which would surprise you when you think about what you said, what you did and what you fought for during a considerable part of your work and political career, which was the most pronounced thing in Yitzhak Shamir’s life.

I remember one Saturday night, and I presume most of the audience remembers it as well.  There was a terrible terrorist attack at a synagogue in Istanbul.  Somehow our reporters had already arrived there quite quickly and one reporter interviewed an elderly Jew who stood outside the synagogue, and it was a terrible sight – blood was flowing in the street in front of the synagogue and the man was shaking.  It so happens that he had been inside the synagogue and was one of the survivors who somehow managed to escape unharmed when quite a few Jews had been killed in that horrible attack.  The reporter asked him, “Aren’t you afraid?”  And he answered, “No.”  The reporter said, “Why not?  Something terrible just happened!”  And he answered, “Because the State of Israel exists.”  I remember sitting in front of the television and I got goose bumps from that simple statement, which was so profound and powerful, which came from that Jew in his shaky voice.  After two minutes, the telephone rang – at that time the Prime Minister’s Office did not have secretaries 24 hours a day – Yitzhak Shamir dialed by himself.  He had a sheet of paper from a notebook like those used by first-graders, and he would write in his round and large handwriting a list of the phone calls he wanted to make every evening, and there were several numbers he would call often and he remembered them.  I heard: “Eyhud [sic]…”  He called me Eyhud.  I said, “Yes?”  He asked me, “Did you see?” and I immediately understood that he was referring to what I had seen.  I answered, “Yes, I saw,” and he said, “My father said the same thing.”  I asked him when and he answered me, “When it was clear that they were going to kill us all, he said, ‘I have a son in the Land of Israel and he will avenge us.’”

There was something profoundly emotional in the way he said this and in the spontaneity of his reaction in the immediate aftermath of the broadcast which typified Yitzhak Shamir in the most profound and authentic essence of who he was, what he believed, what he fought for and what he considered his life mission.

I was in numerous diplomatic situations with Yitzhak Shamir.  I remember once I happened to be with him – I don’t remember the exact circumstances or which meeting, but I remember that it was in Israel, in his office.  He was sitting with James Baker, the American Secretary of State.  James Baker raised his voice to Yitzhak, and Yitzhak pounded on the table as only he knew how – such a pounding – and he pointed at Baker and told him, “Sir, you will not speak to me in such a manner; you are addressing the Prime Minister of Israel.  Do not yell at me, do you understand?”  James Baker was in total shock. 

However, the story does not end there.  After some time, when he was not the Secretary of State anymore – after Bush, Sr. lost the elections – he had some meetings in Israel, and we somehow became closer.  He used to call and ask to meet with me, and we would talk, and once he said to me, “Listen, how is Yitzhak Shamir?  I’m going to see him.”  I answered, “He’s the same as ever,” and he replied, “He is one of the people I most admire; I never admired anybody as much as I admire him.”  I was quite surprised to here that, and asked him, “I remember several arguments you had with him, and they did not reflect any close personal friendship between you.  What happened?”  He said two things.  “First of all,” he said, “Look, the last time I came here, when I went into his office and Shamir was no longer Prime Minister, right when I walked into his office they told me that someone was trying to reach me by phone.  When I picked up the phone, I was told that my mother had died.  My mother died; she was 94 years old, and it was clear to me that I couldn’t sit and talk to Shamir.  In any event, I went into his office and told him, ‘Mr. Shamir, I apologize, I was just informed that my mother died and I have to leave.  I’m sorry that I won’t be able to meet with you.’   I rushed out and flew home in order to attend my mother’s funeral.  One month later, I received a letter with a large certificate from Keren Kayemeth L’Israel, and on it was written that Yitzhak Shamir had planted 94 trees in the Jerusalem Forest in honor of my mother.” 

He continued, “Do you understand?  Yitzhak Shamir planted 94 trees in my mother’s memory in the hills of Jerusalem!”  All of a sudden, it became clear in some manner what Jerusalem and the Jerusalem hills meant to James Baker, this somewhat cold, practical and realistic man, but Yitzhak Shamir’s personal touch moved James Baker so much that it brought tears to his eyes when he told me the story.  And then he said something else.  “Look, we had a lot of arguments, and every time I came to Israel Arik Sharon would establish another settlement and Bush would explode and I would explode, and I pounded on the table and I yelled and I fought.”

I have a digression to this story which is not related to Shamir any more, but Baker said, “He never misled me; he always told me exactly what he was doing, what he thought, what he was going to do, how he would act.  I always knew where I stood with him.  Very few people I met in my lifetime had that kind of determination and directness.”  I thing I do not need to explain to this audience that in this regard, James Baker was right. 

In any event, the amusing digression related to this story, in order not to leave the whole thing mysterious, took place at one of the final events in which Arik Sharon participated, in November 2005.  James Baker had arrived in Israel, and Condi Rice was also there, for the memorial ceremonies honoring Yitzhak Rabin, which were combined with events hosted by the Saban Forum.  We were all sitting together at a table.  James Baker sat next to Condi Rice and she sat near Arik Sharon, and I sat next to him.  James Baker said to me, “I want to say something to Arik Sharon, but I’m a little afraid.”  I asked him, “What do you want to say that you’re a little afraid?” and he answered, “I want to tell him that this is the first time I have come to Israel and he didn’t establish a new settlement.  Instead he dismantled some.”  I told him, “You know what?  When this is over, I’ll tell that to Arik as a joke, because I’m worried that if you tell him, he really won’t like it.”  And in fact, when I told Arik later, he didn’t like it.  However, we’re not here to talk about Arik; we’re talking about Yitzhak Shamir.

Anyone would tell you that Yitzhak Shamir was a breed apart, and his behavior patterns were not those patterns which are acceptable today in politics.  There is no argument about that.  Yitzhak Shamir, first and foremost, was a man who read a great deal.  He didn’t speak of it, but several times it occurred that he asked me, “What do you really think I did when I was Speaker of the Knesset?  It bored me to death, but I took advantage of the time to read many books.”  He continued, “I read ceaselessly, and not just in Hebrew by the way.”  Anyone who remembers Shamir’s level of English when he just began as Minister of Foreign Affairs can compare it to the immense improvement in his English, how much freer and more articulate his English was later on.  This man had such tremendous self-discipline and a capability to learn even at an age when some say people cannot change and certainly not learn anymore – he did.

I would like to say one more thing.  Several former prime ministers are sitting here, one current prime minister and maybe even some future prime ministers, and we know that the most difficult problem with which a prime minister must deal is dividing one’s attention.  How one manages oneself so that events don’t overcome one’s ability to devote the appropriate amount of time in order to deeply consider what must truly be done so that one does not get caught up in the complex race which I do not need to detail here of event after event, and as he said – it is all your responsibility.  Here someone has been hurt; there was shooting over there; here there is a strike; here there is some conflict; there is a budget there; and many other examples.

In my opinion, Yitzhak Shamir was a prime minister who knew how to divide his attention.  He was often criticized, but I say that there was wisdom to it that only someone who has sat in that chair can fully understand.  He would devote a great deal of time to sitting by himself or with those with whom he could achieve a level of intimacy in order to think, in order to analyze.  He also wrote comments to himself on that same notebook paper used by schoolchildren, in pen – usually with blue ink – in his round handwriting.  He would write things down for himself.  I remember a number of times when he would arrive in the morning with a page filled with notes on many different topics which he thought of and wanted to discuss and analyze and get reactions and hear comments about them.

There was no more appropriate name for a book about Yitzhak Shamir than that which you found.  I do not know who is responsible for it; if it was Yair, one can understand why.  He knows his father quite well as a “strong rock”.  I saw him in countless situations, many of those here have – he never, ever lost his internal strength.  He was forged from steel.  I never saw anyone like him before or since.  He is still with us; this is not a farewell party even though it feels like it, but it is certainly an opportunity to say a final word – there was never anyone like him, and I doubt there ever will be.

Thank you.