My job was to ensure the security not just of the Gush Emunim march but of the counter-demonstrators, and, of course, the local Palestinian population. As the rival marches by the Israelis proceeded, I personally delivered warnings against any violence, both to the settlement leaders and to a pair of the most prominent counter-protesters, the peace activist Uri Avneri and Knesset member Yossi Sarid. The event went off without major incident. But the next day, Davar, the venerable Labor newspaper I’d first read as a child in Mishmar Hasharon, let rip against me. Under a photo of me with Avneri and Sarid — my arm raised, ostensibly in some kind of threat but actually in the time-honored Jewish practice of talking with my hands — the article accused me of siding with the settlers. If blood was spilled in the weeks and months ahead, the newspaper said, “it will be on Barak’s hands.” Ordinarily, I would have ignored it. But never in my military career had I been similarly attacked on an issue of any importance. I was especially angry because not only was the insinuation unfounded. It was diametrically opposite to the stance I was determined to take in this, my first regional command. Yes, I was committed to providing security for the settlers. But especially in the wake of the crimes of the Jewish underground, I was determined to ensure they remained within the boundaries of the law. A few days later, I called Rabin’s aide and asked to see the Defense Minister, and was told to come see him after Saturday lunch at his home. When I arrived, Rabin got right down to business. “Ehud, you wanted to see me?” he said. “You’ve probably seen Davar,” I replied. “It was a pretty nasty piece. It distorted things.” Yet as he began asking for details, it seemed he had no idea what I was talking about. “Ehud, I never read it,” he said. “If you hadn’t told me, I’d never have known there was an issue.” I assumed this was a white lie, told to reassure me. But years later, when I was Mini