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Yitzhak’s murder had acted like a kind lightning strike, freezing Israelis in a mix of disgust over what had occurred and awareness of the dangers this brand of hatred and extremism posed. I was concerned the moment would be allowed to pass. My hope was that we could seize the opportunity to bring together all those Israelis – on left and right, secular and Orthodox, Ashkenazi and Sephardi – who were prepared to stand up against the fanaticism, the violent messianism, of which Yigal Amir was just a part. That was the main reason I wanted Peres to call an early election, an issue that would be discussed, off and on, over the next few months. I felt the time was right to present the country with a choice: not just between those for and against specific compromises being contemplated in pursuit of peace, but between those who wanted a tolerant, functioning democracy and those who were ready to use demagoguery and violence to get their way.

Peres’s first order of business was to put in place a new cabinet. He did, briefly, consider giving up the Defense Ministry and putting me there. But instead, he made me Foreign Minister. Like Rabin before him, Shimon stipulated that he, as Prime Minister, would retain authority over the peace negotiations. Still, with his agreement, I was involved in all the discussions around the peace talks, and in meeting many of the Arab leaders we’d have to negotiate with if we were to find a lasting resolution of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Just a few weeks after the assassination, I represented Israel at a Euro-Mediterranean Partnership conference in Barcelona. Its only real diplomatic work consisted of ironing out the wording of the communique. The real value was in the corridors, and at the dinner held at one of King Juan Carlos’s palatial estates, and, for me, a first opportunity to meet not only Arab foreign ministers but Yasir Arafat.

My first, brief encounter with Arafat began a bit embarrassingly. I’d arrived a few minutes early for the conference dinner and was led into an impressive hall that was almost empty except for a wonderfully cared-for royal Steinway. I sat down to play. Lost in the beauty of a Chopin sonata, I was completely unaware of PLO leader’s approach behind me. A bit awkwardly, I rose to greet him. I grasped his hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you,” I said. “I must say I have spent many years watching you – by other means.” He smiled. Our hosts had set aside time after dinner for the two of us to talk at greater length, with no aides present. But my hope was to begin by establishing simple, human contact; to signal respect; to begin to create the conditions not to try to kill Arafat but, if he shared the same goal, to make peace with him. “We carry a great

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