3 February 2022
This post is in memory of Arnaud David Rubin ז"ל, about whom you can find out more if you read to the end.
I stopped on the way home from the pharmacy, on the spur of the moment, to walk amongst the trees, the grass, the cows and the putative wild flowers on a perfect late afternoon―not too hot and not too cold―just off the main road from Misgav to Karmiel, a few hundred metres onto the Yuvalim and Eshchar road, behind the Teradion industrial estate. Nowhere special. But as special as anywhere in our beautiful country, especially in winter, which is like spring in more northerly climes.
I took such lovely pastoral photos in the fading light, with its long shadows, that I thought, for once maybe I'll write a simple blog, just with some lovely pictures, and there will be nothing to write, nothing to research, and it will only take me ten minutes. We pass the spot all the time. There is no archaeology there, it was never settled.
But there is no such thing in this country.
When I began the walk I saw, amongst the piles of branches―the JNF had been doing some pruning―a plaque. There's always a plaque: announcing who paid for the forest, or stand of trees, or orchard or grove. This one was in Hebrew and French. It was in some guy’s memory. He seemed to have died young. I took a picture (just in case) and thought no more about it.
Then I googled the guy―Arnuad David Rubin z”l―on the off chance. My mistake? No, for I have a compulsion. I think it is my task to record everything. To remember. For me. For Hashem. Even if nobody reads it (I don’t promote my blog).
If you look carefully at the plaque, you might notice he was murdered―נרצח, assassiné―at the age of 28 years. That is all you can find out. The Hebrew says nothing more. Even if you know a little French―that ‘Au seuil d'une vie qui s'annonçait belle et épanouie. ton souvenir ne vous quitte pas’ means ‘On the threshold of a life that promised to be beautiful and fulfilled, your memory remains’―you might be none the wiser. Unless, that is, you are good with dates. 21 December 1988…
Arnaud David Rubin was born on 18 May 1960, in Brussels, to Jerry and Toni. He was a fighter! His siblings Yves and Nathalie later described him:
“Arnaud was born very premature and the gynaecologist said, after birth, 'You can declare him stillborn!' But Arnaud was not of the same opinion. He displayed the strongest will to live, and live he did indeed, to full capacity. He did not, however, come out of this experience unscathed. For reasons unknown, he could see only with one eye, and even the good eye was far from perfect. Yet, he stubbornly learned how to cope and accomplished all his years at school without trouble, though not without effort. When it came to university, he chose to become an engineer. He could never see the blackboard, yet by dint of strong will he finished the five years of hard studies and obtained his master's degree in engineering (electronics). “Long before it was known in Belgium or even in Europe, he became interested in Artificial Intelligence and he decided that he would work in this field. He found a job that he loved, as a researcher in artificial intelligence, and marvelled that his employer paid him to do something he utterly enjoyed. When his employer sent him to the United States to work on a specific project, he was delighted to have the opportunity to 'live the American experience.”
On a memorial page he is described thus:
“Arnaud had a wonderful personality. He always knew what he wanted, and nothing could force him to deviate from the path that would lead him quietly to his objectives, however difficult this path might be. He took a deep interest not only in his work, but also loved the cinema, music, chess, deep sea diving, and above all computers, networks, and space. He always had time for his many friends, welcoming them warmly and affectionately, and even for strangers who needed his computer expertise; it was thus that his family saw a university professor come into the house 'to consult him on a specific software!'
“He was a great reader, in French as well as English, and left a collection of more than three thousand books, all of which he had read. He had a marvellous sense of hum or, which he used at his own expense, never at the expense of others. When he walked into the house the sunshine entered with him. “Arnaud's basket was full of projects he intended to realize with those around him: to continue to learn and apply this knowledge, create computer software and participate in the computer revolution, use artificial intelligence in space applications, share his joy and love with family and friends, get married, raise a family....”
Arnaud played an important role in the early development of the world wide web. The Turing Institute was a short-lived artificial intelligence laboratory based in Glasgow between 1983 and 1994. The company undertook basic and applied research, working directly with large companies across the world. In 1987, the Turing team was subcontracted by the research and development arm of SWIFT―the Society for Worldwide International Financial Telecommunication, the network of global banks, headquartered in Belgium―led by Arnaud David Rubin, to solve the problem of how to distribute globally an electronic user manual that needed regular updating as changes were made to the system. The Turing Institute's great inspiration was to simplify the electronic format to its barest essentials and add one essential ingredient: hyperlinks. These could transport the reader from one part of a document to another, and between documents. The system―which resembled what would one day be the world wide web―was launched in 1988. Its success as a global hypertext resource for its users led to SWIFT sponsoring the Turing Memorial series of Lectures and, but for a grim twist of fate, Glasgow's Turing Institute could have become the birthplace of the World Wide Web.
Arnaud had come to Brussels from the United States, for five days, to visit his father who had undergone surgery. He was supposed to return to the US on 20 December, but he stayed one day longer to attend a business lunch and to meet his new boss at SWIFT. The next day he nearly missed Pan Am Flight 103. As his siblings related, “Arnaud was always so absorbed by everything he did that he was often late for appointments; when we said goodbye to him, the last words we pronounced were, ‘Arnaud, hurry up, or you'll miss your plane.’”
Pan Am Flight 103 blew up over Lockerbie, and Rubin was among 270 people killed. The personal link between SWIFT and the Turing Institute was broken, and the potential for the SWIFT project which Rubin had instigated there was never realised.
The Prix Arnaud-David Rubin at the École polytechnique de Bruxelles was inaugurated by his parents in memory of their son. The annual prize of €500 is awarded to a student at the École Polytechnique, to enable him to complete his education.
“Some criminal hands cut this tree, and all the branches fell. The fruits will not grow, we will not, in our prime or old age, be allowed to lean on his solid body or rest in the shadow of his quiet, reassuring presence, a beacon on land and a guide in life. It is said that he who saves one life, saves humanity. What can be said against those who kill many, and with their chilling hands, squeeze our survivors' hearts into stone?” Arnaud David Rubin’s siblings Yves and Nathalie.
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