Gathered in Schloss Bellevue on this wonderful evening, we are together remembering a miracle. A political miracle. A human miracle.
The fact that Israel and Germany are today joined in profound friendship – following the Shoah, that betrayal of all civilised values, such a development was utterly inconceivable. The fact that Israel – the country of the survivors, the children and grandchildren of those who had been murdered – would ever extend a hand to our country was a gift that no German had any right to expect.
And yet, Israel did extend a hand to us. And we took it, ever conscious of German guilt and of our responsibility. Even sixty years later, I am full of gratitude and full of humility in the face of this gift of reconciliation. Let us never lose sight of it! Humility and gratitude continue to determine our relations, to determine everything we say to each other, how we deal with each other, particularly in difficult times like the present.
The miracle of reconciliation with Israel and with Jews across the world is, first and foremost, a human miracle. The wonderful Berlin Jew Margot Friedländer is an outstanding embodiment of this. Not only did she extend a hand to us Germans – she came back; she gave us the gift of her tremendously generous heart and her unfailing humanity. Last Friday, she passed away at a grand old age. May I ask you to stand in a moment of silence, in memory of the great Margot Friedländer. Thank you.
You all know that relations between Israel and Germany were formally established sixty years ago today. It was a difficult process. How could it not be? The first step was the 1952 Reparations Agreement, known in Germany as the Luxembourg Agreement or “Wiedergutmachungsabkommen”, literally “agreement on making good”. An unfortunate choice of word, because nothing could, nothing can, be made good. No blood money from Germany!
was the cry of protesters in Israel at the time. And in Germany? Almost one in two regarded the Agreement as superfluous.
What a stroke of good fortune that David Ben-Gurion and Konrad Adenauer trusted one another. They believed in the possibility of reconciliation and courageously took the first step.
Many further steps followed – first and foremost beyond the confines of politics. What began as a political intention had to grow within society. It was scientists and academics, trade unionists, teachers, schoolchildren and students who began to build bridges. It was these many small steps – from youth exchanges to town twinning arrangements, from study tours to cultural exchange – that led to rapprochement across the abyss of history.
The German-Israeli youth exchange has been in operation for seventy years, and soon, I hope, there will be a German-Israeli Youth Office. Just yesterday, young craftspeople from Germany and Israel met here in Bellevue in response to an invitation from my wife and the German-Israeli Future Forum. They are going to be working together on projects, including the renovation of the venerable Leo Baeck Institute in Jerusalem. And today, dear Isaac, we met young people from the German-Israeli Youth Congress and talked intensively with them. We want to encourage them to believe in a better, peaceful future, to work for it and, where necessary, to fight for it. What we heard from all these young people was that they want Israel and Germany still to be two strong liberal democracies in sixty years’ time. We bear the responsibility for this today. And here, if I may say so, Federal Chancellor, Israel may rely on the new Federal Government.
The close bonds that exist between our two countries are part of my country’s identity. To me personally, they are immensely important. And my friendship with President Herzog, with you, dear Isaac, is just as important to me. We have known each other for twenty years now. Over that time, we have met frequently, in various roles and with various responsibilities, keeping up a conversation over two decades. We have accompanied one another through highs and lows, in both our political and our personal lives. I am grateful to be able to call you my friend. Together we stood in Bergen-Belsen at the memorial to your father, who, as a member of the British army, took part in the liberation of Germany.
And I will never ever forget the moment when I heard your voice on the phone, dear Isaac, on that day, 7 October. You did not need to say very much. Never before had I known you so shaken. Never since the Holocaust have so many Jews been murdered in one day. I will never forget our walk together through Kibbutz Be’eri: blood-smeared houses and walls, children’s clothing strewn around, burnt-out bedrooms. And, weeks on from the attack, the horror was still etched on the residents’ faces.
A year and a half has passed since that 7 October, but it still weighs heavily on Israel. Its repercussions can be felt in our country, too. Sorrow and anger, pain and hatred reach deep into Germany, churning people up. And it is a bitter realisation on this anniversary: since 7 October, antisemitism in Germany has taken on frightening new proportions. No matter its source, no matter its guise, we must combat this hatred – the hatred of Jews, and the hatred of Israel. As long as antisemitism and hatred of Israel are found on Germany’s streets and squares, in lecture theatres and pubs, we are failing to show ourselves worthy of the gift of reconciliation. That is our enduring responsibility, not only on this 60th anniversary.
Not with light hearts do we mark the anniversary. Sixty years of the German-Israeli miracle are grounds for rejoicing – but there is no real celebratory mood. How can there be? Israel has been attacked; Israel is at war; and at home, too, Israel cannot find peace.
As friends of Israel, we suffer with the people. We suffer in particular with the hostages held by Hamas, and with their families, including German nationals. The remaining hostages must be released, and the dead must come home!
However, as friends of Israel, we are not only suffering with you, we are also concerned with the way out of the suffering. Israel’s enemies do not adhere to rules, but we must do so. As democracies and states based on the rule of law, we must not ignore the mounting suffering among the civilian population of Gaza. Every evening on the news, we see images of starving children and desperate mothers. We talked in depth this morning about all this and about how the humanitarian situation can be improved.
The great Yitzhak Rabin, who was assassinated thirty years ago, had this principle: fight terrorism – and at the same time seek peace. If one does not seek peace, war and occupation will become endless suffering. That was his conviction, and even thirty years on from his assassination, it is not wrong.
I think everyone finds it difficult to draw hope and confidence in these dark times, especially the people in Israel. Nonetheless, I would like to try to formulate a hope, a hope inherent in this anniversary.
After all, we see from our German-Israeli history how peace, indeed even reconciliation, can grow out of the darkest abyss. It took a long time, political courage and the effort of many! The German-Israeli miracle shows that peace is possible, reconciliation is possible.
Perhaps few people at present have this hope. I do. And I know from my most recent trips to neighbouring Arab countries – to Riyadh, Cairo and Amman – that there is a great readiness to leave behind the perpetual enmity with Israel, to seek routes for political negotiations, to normalise relations, and to advance towards a peaceful future in the Middle East. There have been expressions in this vein, and their seriousness should be tested. Israel should take this opportunity before a window of opportunity closes again.
I have the hope that Israel will overcome the trauma of 7 October; that it will defeat Hamas by fighting terrorism and at the same time seeking peace; that it can live in peace both within and without.
Admiration for Israel – this small, strong, proud democracy with its humanistic roots, a Jewish state that emerged from the ashes of the Shoah – has shaped my political life. Today it is my fervent wish that Israel can find its way back to these proud, optimistic roots.
Just as Israel was an anchor of hope for many Germans who confronted and grappled with the burden of German history, so the people in Israel today deserve an anchor of hope and humanity. Israel, like its neighbours, should be allowed to hope for a better future. As far as we possibly can, we Germans want to help along this path.
Allow me to raise my glass in a toast to the German-Israeli friendship, to the miracle of reconciliation, to the possibility of peace. And to you, my dear friend, and to you, dear Michal! L’chaim!
