Immediately after the assassination of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin 20 years ago, Israeli society set out on the path of reconciliation and did not opt for introspection or strict adherence to the law. The intention was good. But in retrospect, was it right? No one knows for sure. It's possible that a thorough inquiry would have cleared the air and served as an appropriate punishment for society, and it could be that Israel was swept up toward a solution that minimized damages. Since then, memorial candles have been lit, plaintive songs sung, discussions held and books written, and two important issues still have not been resolved. The first: Has incitement become illegitimate, meaning that there will be no more assassinations? And the second: Did Yigal Amir manage to stop the peace process? Signs of extremism and frustration appeared in both camps. Anyone who saw himself as carrying on Rabin's legacy was stuck between a strong desire to extend his hand and bring everyone together and unprecedented animosity between everyone considered "the Right," the religious and the secular. The nationalist camp, on the other hand, moved between two extremes that religious Zionist educator Malka Puterkovsky described in a new collection of essays: "Three Shots and 20 Years." The Rabin dilemma that befell the religious Zionists, Puterkovsky writes, vacillated between one extreme that strictly forbade any violent action and a person's halachic obligation to express himself and his criticisms even if they are received with a shrug of indifference. "Reprove a wise man, and he will love you" (Proverbs 9:8) -- there aren't many like that. Offshoots that crossed the line rose up in both camps. In one, the despairing idea took hold that assassin Amir had stopped the peace process, which justified supporting boycotts of Israel to the point of losing any national solidarity. The opposing camp split into those who lost their energy and ability to hold their standards high and conduct a sharp, legitimate debate -- as we saw in the ineffectual struggle against the evacuation of the Gush Katif settlements -- and those who became radicalized, like one inciter who described a High Court justice as having joined the enemy. And what if that same judge meets the worst possible fate? We'll light more candles. The frustration stems from the question of whether Amir in fact managed to halt the peace process. Not necessarily because Rabin was the last of his partners to hold the reins of power. Shimon Peres, Ehud Barak and Ehud Olmert each tried in their own way, and aside from the serial distorters on the Left, everyone knows that they got no response, because the Palestinians refused, didn't want to. The Rabin assassination is a heavy loss because of Rabin's personality and his biography, but even his presence couldn't have navigated Israel into a peaceful port. There was no partner-enemy on the other side, and no one knew that better than Rabin himself, the man of peace and security. No, the man of security and peace.
