|Search ON THIS DAY by date|
1995: 'Overwhelmed with grief' for RabinYitzhak Rabin's life had been threatened many times by Jewish extremists who opposed his peace initiatives with the Palestinians.
But the Israeli Prime Minister refused to maintain a low profile and on the day of his assassination he led a peace rally in Tel Aviv attended by 100,000 people.
Concealed in the crowd was Jewish religious extremist Yigal Amir, who shot Mr Rabin three times at close range as he left the gathering.
The prime minister was taken to hospital but died shortly after being admitted.
I lived in Israel as a child. My father's company sent him there.
We lived on the top of Mount Carmel. A little Church of England British boy, I loved Israel.
It seemed to be full of hope, patriotism, a healthy scepticism about dogmatism of any kind and, unlike England, a sense that any good thing was possible.
I was coincidentally staying in the same hotel as Arafat when he shook hands with Rabin on the White House lawn. I remember when the news broke of the assassination.
I remember being most angry about an article by Julie Burchill that misunderstood the significance of the event, full of sentiments along the lines of 'some of my best friends are Jews but really...'
Because it was obvious that the assassination had been an attempted coup, to replace the Israel I remembered and loved by another Israel, nationalistic, dogmatic, imperialistic.
I was still in Israel at the time and I will never forget that night.
I was at the peace rally and the mood was so optimistic and joyful. After we went home, my brother heard on the radio that Rabin was shot.
We didn't think that much of it but shortly afterwards it was announced that he died.
Because we lived in the same neighbourhood as Rabin's residential flat, we got to witness all the masses of people arriving with flowers and candles. It was very moving.
Me and my family did not really move away from the telly for a few days. We were addicted to watching the news and crying constantly. It was a terrible time and I think of Rabin and "what would have happened if" very often.
I remember the shock of that day.
The words "Jews don't kill Jews" and feeling as if hope had just left the Earth.
Watching the funeral I felt such empathy for Rabin's 18-year-old granddaughter who, as she said "only wnated to speak about my grandfather".
Most of all I remember my father's tears. I had never seen them before, nor since.
We were at home in Jerusalem and happened to turn on the TV before going to bed. The next day everyone was in a state of shock.
I don't think the assassination affected the peace process. Rabin may have had more Israelis on his side than Barak, but he had no hold over the Palestinians.
My wife and I were spending our honeymoon in Israel at the time. The night Rabin was shot we were sitting with some German friends in Notre Dame in Jerusalem when suddenly a shattered-looking Italian came in and told us there had been a shooting in Tel Aviv and Rabin had been killed.
From then on the whole atmosphere was changed completely. The streets in the old city were dead, people were in tears.
Our guide, an American-born Israeli who had served in the army under Rabin and was an active supporter of his peace-policy, was overwhelmed with grief; so were we when we went along with him to Mount Knesseth the next evening to pay a last tribute to Rabin.
There seemed to be Israelis of all walks of society mourning and praying for their dead leader. It was such an impressive demonstration of the will for peace in the Holy Land then - what has become of it?
I had come down with an awful bout of flu. Emerging several days later, I wandered down to the corner shop to get some orange juice.
Then I saw the newspaper headlines announcing the funeral. I hadn't even known he'd died. I remember feeling as if a spear of ice had pierced me to my core.
I walked home in a daze clutching the newspaper. When I read that he had been shot by a fellow Jew, one of our own, the shock and confusion were even worse.
I subsequently wrote a poem about him, entitled "Distant Kaddish".
Apart from a small minority, most people were prepared to follow his path to peace simply because he was leading it and they trusted him. If he had not been killed I truly believe the situation would not have been as it is now.
In 1995, I was only 10-years-old. However, I remember the news very well, because the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin was just hours apart from my own grandfather's death.
I was obviously inconsolable when my grandfather, whom I loved very much, died, but somehow, when I heard of Rabin's death, I was still very much shocked and sad.
Though I was only a little girl, I was already very interested in world events, and I had been very happy to hear that a peace treaty had been signed in the Middle East. Young as I was, I had genuinely believed that all the violence would end, and now all that had fallen apart.
In my mind, the deaths of my grandfather and Yitzhak Rabin have always been linked, so that's why I remember.
I don't remember the night he was killed as clearly as his funeral. I remember a TV being brought into our offices in north London so that we could watch his funeral live. The only other occasion we have done that for was the Queen Mother's funeral.
I just remember feeling so sad that this man, whose family obviously loved him so much as a husband, father and grandfather, had within his grasp the power to halt the death and destruction that has become part of everyday Israeli life.
It felt like we were watching the peace process being buried with him!
It was my 18th birthday, and I'd just been out to dinner and the cinema. Coming home, I turned on the TV, and saw the shocking news on a BBC newsflash.
It was a real shock, as Rabin really had been making waves of progress for peace in Palestine. Compared with today's Israeli leaders, Rabin was a giant. Think how different things could have been if he'd lived!
I can remember this day very well. I had started at university a few months before and on this Saturday night for some reason no-one had gone out.
I can remember going to see the people in the flat upstairs and one of the girls, Kelly, was in tears for some reason: she had worked on a kibbutz in Israel and had just heard about the murder of Rabin.
At the time I can remember thinking that this act would result in more violence, but looking back I had no idea it would result in the destruction of the peace process and the betrayal of the goals of all of those who had been involved in the quest for peace. A very sad day.
I was headed from Sydney to Dhaka, Bangladesh and waiting for my next flight in Bangkok airport. Because the journey took all night I was tired and for some rest I sat on a couch and tried to comfort myself with a TV programme.
I saw on the news that Mr Yitzhak Rabin had been shot dead. Seeing the new at first I thought may be it was some kind of illusion because of my sleepless night. So I asked another passenger waiting with me whether it is true or not, she confirmed affirmative.
I was so shocked. At that time the picture of the great moment in the rose garden at the White House came into my mind. Mr Rabin and Arafat shaking hands, President Clinton standing with them. After that signing he gave the most appreciable speech any Israeli leader has ever given. I remember he said, "Enough".
A genuine leader with the passion for peace, I adored a lot. I felt tears on my cheek - it was the first time I had ever cried for a politician.
I thought it was a shame, as I knew the assassin had accomplished what he wanted. I knew Peres was not up for the job of PM, at least not in the eyes of the people, which only meant that Likud could win the upcoming election.
It would have been ok, if they had a man like Menachem Begin, who signed the Camp David peace treaty, but knowing to expect Netanyahu - and eventually the army general Sharon - everyone who thought a bit deeper, must have come to the obvious bleak picture of the future.
Although who knows if Arafat would have really gone ahead with peace - he did not go with Barak's peace, which would have given Palestine 96 per cent of West Bank and Gaza.
It was hard to believe that the secret security forces that taught police elsewhere how to protect leaders had failed so miserably.
My initial thoughts were that it must have been an inside job. The official inquiry did nothing to change this and now after ten years the same questions are being asked again.
The sprawling square was very full, which is nothing short of remarkable for a country of about six million.
I remember the public address system was playing a Brazilian song, País Tropical, when I left.
I suggest you look for the footage of when Rabin is shot. That's the exact same song.
|Search ON THIS DAY by date|
|^^ back to top|
|Front Page | Years | Themes | Witness|
|©MMVIII | News Sources | Privacy & Cookies Policy