In 2002, when Israeli tanks surrounded his compound in Ramallah, Yasser Arafat shouted, “Oh God, grant me a martyr’s death!”

He knew full well there was no chance the Israelis would comply. Washington had demanded that Arafat not be harmed. Arafat was no stranger to show business, and his cry of defiance went around the world.

The show is over for Arafat, but it ran many acts too long. He virtually invented “television terrorism.” The most memorable example was the massacre of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics. Arafat made terrorism work for him. With his broad grin, three-day stubble and trademark headdress, he became a cartoon character – lovable only to the 99 percent of humanity that hadn’t figured him out.

In recent years, he urged Palestinian teens to strap dynamite around their chests and blow up Israeli buses and cafes. He called for “martyrs by the millions.”

His wife announced from her Paris apartment that there would be “no greater honor” than to sacrifice her son as a martyr. It happens that Suha Arafat has a daughter, not a son. In any case, with the Palestinian Authority sending her $100,000 a month for living expenses, eternity can wait.

Respectable world leaders are now heaping faint praise on Arafat. The best they can say is that he put Palestinian aspirations on the map. That is something he did and that Palestinians deserved.

But strong brand recognition is not leadership. Even after many Palestinians stopped following him, he hung around to frustrate others wanting to create an orderly government. He let the terrorists at Hamas provide the social services. Arafat’s innate narcissism wouldn’t nurture any successors. Or was it the corruption he was protecting?

It may have been fitting that Arafat’s last days in a Paris hospital were marked by bickering between Suha and other Palestinian officials. The story is that everyone was trying to find out where Arafat had hid the billions. This is money he had siphoned from international aid, extortion rackets and other corrupt activities. (Suha’s $1.2 million a year was really just change.)

Eleven years ago, I visited a Holy Land that teetered on the edge of hope. I recall a day that started, pleasantly enough, at Armageddon. Israeli maps call the spot Har Megiddo, meaning Megiddo Hill. Some scholars say that this is the earthly location of Armageddon, the cosmic battle between Good and Evil detailed in the Book of Revelations.

It was March 1993. Spring was in the air, and so were the Oslo Accords. Our trip continued into the West Bank and the city of Jericho. We stopped for some good Arab cooking at an open-air restaurant. Then we visited the Mount of Temptations and the ruins of a 6th century synagogue, guarded by friendly Palestinians. You could see a land of seamless trade and tourism starting to emerge.

Six months later, Yasser Arafat signed the Oslo Accords, a limited peace agreement with Israel. Soon after, he was on the White House lawn famously shaking hands with Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, as Bill Clinton beamed. Arafat bowed to world applause and accepted a Nobel Peace Prize, which he shared with Rabin and Israeli leader Shimon Peres.

Out of Oslo came negotiations for a final deal. In 2000, Israel’s new prime minister, Ehud Barak, offered most of what Arafat had wanted. Arafat walked out of the talks, and the second intifada was ignited. What seemed to herald the end of this bloody conflict was just the beginning of a new round. Since then, more than 900 Israelis and nearly 3,000 Palestinians have perished in renewed violence. It was back to Armageddon.

Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon says there’s new opportunity for peace. So does President Bush. Now Bush must pressure Sharon to use those opportunities and give full-throated support to any reasonable Palestinian leadership that might arise.

Arafat is being buried in Ramallah, close to where Israeli tanks chose not to make him a martyr. Palestinians must now clean up the mess he left – the corrupt institutions and political chaos. They could also use those missing billions, but the money is surely well hidden. There were some things Arafat knew how to organize.

Froma Harrop is a Providence Journal columnist. Contact her by writing to fharrop@projo.com.