In the span of my lifetime, I have seen the extraordinary: During my childhood, I rode in horse-drawn carriages in Vishneva. During my presidency, I witnessed the birth of the self-driving car. I have seen technology that sent men to the moon and vaccines that have eradicated deadly diseases from the face of the earth. I have seen billions lifted out of poverty, a world still in conflict but more peaceful than at any point of human existence. And I have seen the Jewish people fight for a thin slice of desert, then transform it into a country that surpassed our grandest dreams.
I recognize that progress has not always been steady. It is often uneven, with tragic steps backward. The Allied powers defeated the Nazis and made the world safe for democracy—but not before the deaths of millions. The splitting of the atom created the potential for new energy and new sciences—but with it came the heavy fear that a push of a button would bring global catastrophe. The Internet has allowed billions of people to break free from old dogmas—but it has also allowed the forces of evil to spread hate in an instant. We have seen the danger when technology and morality do not coexist.
At the time of this writing, we face new dangers. A decline in tolerance. A rise in nationalism. A world at the height of prosperity that is not widely shared, where we see rising inequality, both within countries and between them. And yet in spite of these forces, I remain optimistic. Not only because it is my nature, but because I can see the countervailing winds blowing in the direction of progress. We are in transition—from one era to another. It is not humanity’s first, but it is its most rapid and comprehensive. It is the leap from the age of territory to the age of science.
The age of territory was driven by acquisition. Leaders of nations sought to increase their nation’s power by gaining territory—mostly through force. Accumulated military prowess by one drove would-be victims to arm. War was thus inevitable. Lost lives and wasted resources were its currency. And always, one side’s gain was the other’s loss. Today, the importance of land as the primary source of human livelihood has diminished, giving way to science instead. Unlike territory, science has no borders or flags. Science can’t be conquered by tanks or defended by fighter jets. It has no limitations. A nation can increase its scientific achievement without taking anything from somebody else. In fact, great scientific achievement by one nation lifts the fortunes of all nations. It is the first time in history that we can win, without making anyone lose.
In the age of science, the traditional power of states and leaders is declining. Rather than politicians, it is innovators that drive the global economy and wield the most influence. The young leaders who created Facebook and Google have sparked a revolution without killing one person. The globalized economy affects every state, yet no single state is powerful enough to determine outcomes. We are participating in the birth of a new world.
Past discoveries have proven the power of science. When my grandfather was in the prime of his life, for example, someone with a tooth infection would have no recourse, only terrible pain and probable death. Today antibiotics allow us to live better lives than the royalty of the recent past. The high-tech revolution may be just as profound.
We have already seen the power of mobile technology to break down even the harshest of dictatorships. While governments can try to restrict free expression, they increasingly and inevitably fail. In the Middle East, there are nearly 130 million boys and girls with smartphones. They may not be able to break free from their government, but with new access to new knowledge, they can break free from the old ideology. We may soon find that peace is made possible not through negotiation but through innovation.
Technological progress has created bridges across borders and languages and cultures. We have yet to fully comprehend the opportunities that will continue to grow from this transformational interconnectivity. Yet transformations, however worthy, do not follow a clear path. One cannot forge connections without the prior existence of gaps, but one also cannot forge connections if those gaps are too wide. In today’s world, the separation between generations is wider than the separation between nations, and it is the young who now hold the power to create greater global impact than statesmen and generals ever could. Those firmly planted in the past will surely resist the future. Today, the Middle East is ailing. The malady stems from pervasive violence; from shortages of food, water, and educational opportunities; from discrimination against women; and more virulently, from the absence of freedom. Too many in our region are lingering on the old idea of territory as might. We are still witness to horrific wars perpetrated by governments of the old order, those who prefer to remember than to dream. Nonetheless the trend is unmistakable: wars are gradually being rendered futile. They have already lost their rational motivation and their moral justification. And though despots have the power to kill thousands, they do not have the power to kill an idea.
The imperative of the young generation is to help complete this transformation. We need a generation that sees leadership as a noble cause, defined not by personal ambition, but by morality—and a call to service. We need leaders who believe that the world can be changed not by killing and shooting but by creating and competing, leaders who prefer to be controversial for the right reasons, rather than popular for the wrong ones, leaders who use their imagination more than their memory. I am filled with hope because I believe we have that generation at hand, walking the earth at this very moment. To the young people of the world, I hope that you will take to heart what David Ben-Gurion taught me. It was from him I learned that the vision of the future should shape the agenda for the present; that one can overcome obstacles by dint of faith; that there is nothing more responsible than to take risks today for the sake of tomorrow’s chance; that just as birth requires the pain of labor, success requires the pain of failure.
I don’t expect you to take the word of an old man; if I have earned the title of expert, it is only on what was. There is no expert on what will be. And yet, without knowing the future, I remain a man full of hope. Hope for peace. Hope that we will continue to make the Promised Land a land of promise. Hope that Israel will uphold social justice as a moral country. Hope that we will raise our eyes to the realized dreams of our prophets, who showed us that liberty is also the soul of the Jewish heritage. My greatest hope is that our children, like our forefathers, will continue to plow the historical Jewish furrow in the field of the human spirit; that Israel will become the center of our heritage, not merely our homeland; and that the Jewish people will both be inspired by others and a continued source of inspiration.
I am grateful that the chapters of my life are entwined with the birth and construction of Israel. I will be forever indebted to Ben-Gurion, who called me to work for him, and who gave me the wonderful privilege of serving my country. For nearly seventy years, inspired by his leadership, I tried to gather strength for Israel, to build its defense and pursue peace for my people—our heart’s truest desire. I love this country—the scent of the orange blossoms in the spring; the hum of the Jordan River; the silent peace of the Negev nights; and always, its people, who at every encounter of my life have proved valiant and faithful and generous and resilient.
I do not pretend that I am a complex individual. I was given my life, some two and a half billion seconds: I did some reckoning, and I decided to do something with those seconds so that I might make a difference. I think I decided correctly. I don’t regret any of my dreams. My only regret is not having dreamed more. I got my life as a gift. I’ll give it up without an overdraft.
Every once in a while, someone will ask me to look back on my career and identify the achievement in my life of which I am proudest. I respond by telling them the story of a great painter, who was once approached by an admirer of his art.
“Which of your paintings do you consider your most beautiful?” the man asked.
The painter looked up at the man, then turned his gaze toward a large blank canvas, resting on an easel in the corner of the room.
“The one I will paint tomorrow,” he replied.
My answer is the same.
—SEPTEMBER 2016