Classic speech: Moshe Dayan at Roy Rotenberg's funeral

In 1956 Moshe Dayan delivers a eulogy for a member of Kibbutz Nahal Oz ('Otaf Gaza') who was murdered by infiltrators from Gaza. 
In today's terms this is a speech in a slightly high language, but at the time it was considered very direct, very simple, and an example of the new Hebrew of the age.

From a political point of view, in the speech Dayan presents in a cold and cruel way the lack of choice of the need for self-defense for the existence of the State of Israel. 

It is interesting to see how Dayan's speech lacked all the calls for revenge or an 'appropriate Zionist response' that today accompany almost every speech on military or civilian space. In this place, Dayan preaches to stand firm and not give up. In fact, if it weren't for an activist chief of staff who led and initiated several wars (including the Sinai war, exactly half a year and a day after this speech) this speech could be seen as a preacher of non-violent resistance.

Another interesting technique that Dayan begins the speech with is to understand Roy's murderers as a means to make the audience understand their motivation, thus justifying the need for the strong stance he preaches. This technique, sometimes called 'triangulation', is a very effective tool in speeches designed to appeal to an audience that does not agree with you, or whose opinion you want to change.  

"Yesterday morning Roy was murdered. The silence of the spring morning dazzled them, and he did not see the lurkers for his soul on the furrow line.

Please don't blame the killers today. What is it to us that we are charged with their intense hatred towards us?
For eight years they have been sitting in the refugee camps in Gaza, and in front of their eyes we are turning the land and villages where they and their ancestors lived into our inheritance.

Not from the Arabs in Gaza, but from ourselves we will ask for Roy's blood.
How did we close our eyes from looking at our destiny, from seeing the destiny of our generation in all its cruelty?
What is forgotten by us is that this group of boys, sitting in Nahal Oz, and carrying the heavy gates of Gaza on their shoulders?
Gates beyond which are crowded hundreds of thousands of eyes and hands praying for our weakness to come, so that they can tear us to pieces.

Have we forgotten that? We know that in order for the hope of our destruction to die, we must be, morning and evening, armed and prepared. We are the settlement generation, and without the steel cap and the cannon muzzle we will not be able to plant a tree and build a house. Our children will not have a life if we do not dig shelters, and without a barbed wire fence and a machine gun we will not be able to pave a road and drill for water.

The millions of Jews, who were destroyed because they had no land, are watching us from the ashes of Israeli history and commanding us to settle and build a land for our people. But beyond the furrow of the border rises a sea of hatred and waves of revenge, waiting for the day when peace will dull our vigilance, for the day when we will listen to the ambassadors of harassing hypocrisy, who call us to lay down our weapons.

Roy's blood cries out to us from his torn body. Although we swore a thousand vows that our blood would not be wasted -
Yesterday we were tempted again, we listened and believed. We will do our reckoning with ourselves today. Let us not shy away from seeing the strife that accompanies and fills the lives of hundreds of thousands of Arabs, who sit around us and wait for the moment when they can reach
your blood Do not turn away our eyes lest our hand weaken.

This is the fate of our generation. This is the choice of our lives - to be true and armed strong and rigid or the sword will fall from our fists - and our lives will be cut off.

Roy Rothberg, the skinny blond boy, who went from Tel Aviv to build his house at the gates of Gaza, to be a wall for us.
Roy - the light in his heart blinded his eyes, and he did not see the consuming lightning. Longing for peace deafened his ears, and he did not hear the sound of the lurking murder.
Lift the gates of Gaza off his shoulders and let him have it."