Recent visitors to the Hummus Bar at the M Mall in Kfar Vitkin, near Netanya. The eatery is offering a 50% deal on its hummus for Jews and Arabs who share a table and eat together. (photo from facebook.com/Mhumusbar)
An Israeli eatery is making headlines across the globe for its latest menu deal: 50% off any hummus dishes served to tables seating Jews and Arabs together.
Breaking bread together throughout history has always been an act of sharing and reconciliation. So, in response to the latest wave of terror attacks and incitement in Israel, Hummus Bar at the M Mall in Kfar Vitkin, near the coastal city of Netanya, posted a Facebook call for customers to share pita and hummus together – and pay less if they do.
The Oct. 13 post reads: “Scared of Arabs? Scared of Jews? At our place, we don’t have Arabs! But we also don’t have Jews … we’ve got human beings! And genuine, excellent Arab hummus! And great Jewish falafel! And a free refill for every serving of hummus, whether you’re Arab, Jewish, Christian, Indian, etc.”
Speaking to local media, manager Kobi Tzafrir said there were a number of people taking up the offer from his restaurant, which is famous for its chickpea spread. But, he added, the short post also fueled interest from around Israel and the world.
Hummus eateries are countless in Israel, yet Tzafrir reported that visitors have come from around the country to show support for the Hummus Bar’s message of tolerance and camaraderie.
“If there’s anything that can bring together these peoples, it’s hummus,” Tzafrir told the Times of Israel.
Hummus Bar’s Facebook page continues to garner positive posts from abroad, as well.
“Love the idea of bringing people together with food! Love and food conquers all!!” writes Urbian Fitz-James from the Netherlands.
“I think it is amazing what you guys are doing to unite people!” posts Josh Friesen from Canada.
“Thank you. This is marvelous,” writes Samir Kanoun from Turkey.
There are other messages of support – including from the United Kingdom, the United States and Japan – on the eatery’s Facebook page.
Hummus, of course, is a national dish in Israel, from the point of view of both Muslim and Jewish communities in the country. The International Day of Hummus even began here.
And it’s not just hummus that brings tolerance and coexistence. There are also Arab-Jewish owned eateries serving up coexistence, including Maxim restaurant in Haifa and Bouza ice cream in Tarshiha.
Viva Sarah Press reports on the creativity, innovation and ingenuity taking place in Israel. Her work has been published by international media outlets including Israel Television, CNN, Reuters, Time Out and the Jerusalem Post. Israel21C is a nonprofit educational foundation with a mission to focus media and public attention on the 21st-century Israel that exists beyond the conflict. For more, or to donate, visit israel21c.org.
In times of protracted conflict, can matters of the heart exist apart from politics? An award-winning documentary from Israeli filmmaker Ibtisam Mara’ana Menuhin left me at once spellbound, uplifted, sad and restless, as I found myself wrestling with this question.
Write Down, I am an Arab depicts the life of Palestinian national poet Mahmoud Darwish. The politics is important – more on that below – but what makes the film especially gripping is the story of Darwish’s catapult to national and international fame against the backdrop of his private longings for a woman on the other side of the Palestinian-Jewish divide.
Darwish met Tamar Ben Ami in the early 1960s at a political rally – this one for the Communist party in Israel. Frequently separated geographically – he under military administration (as all Arab citizens were until 1966) in Haifa, she studying in Jerusalem – Darwish documented his feelings for her in a series of letters.
I spoke with Tamar – by phone, Facebook and email – over the course of a few days. A dancer and choreographer (the film chronicles her stint in the Israeli navy’s performing troupe), Tamar divides her time between Tel Aviv and Berlin. She describes her art – and really her entire personal life – as being shaped by her time with Darwish. Her love for him is palpable, still.
Caught up as I am as a political scientist and columnist in contemplating political arrangements – refugees, Jerusalem, borders, one-state, two-state, federation or separation – Tamar operates differently.
“It’s cliché, and maybe I sound naive, but I believe in unconditional love,” Tamar tells me when I ask her what kind of political future she envisions. She is disturbed by what she sees as the artificial divisions of nations, races, ethnicities and religions, including what she sees as a dangerous interpretation of Jewish chosenness. “On this, the occupation has been nurtured.”
And, while it’s hard to disagree, I find myself confounded. Is the Palestinian national struggle one over occupation? Is it about the West Bank settlements, the land appropriation, the checkpoints and night raids and administrative detention? Or is it about the stones and earth of Palestinian towns and villages within Israel itself to which many Palestinians long to return? And, if it is the latter, how can the two national dreams ever be squared?
In the film, we see video footage of Darwish meeting a resident of Kibbutz Yas’ur, which was founded on the ruins of Darwish’s childhood village, al-Birwa. “It’s a moment of sadness and hope,” Darwish says to the man. “The sadness is that I’m not allowed to go back to that place and you have the right to go back there. But if we have the ability to be friends and we are friends, then peace is still possible.”
On one hand, it’s a wholly human encounter. On the other hand, once we put the subject of Israeli towns, cities and kibbutzim within pre-1967 Israel on the table, we are talking about the core of Israel’s identity, one which Israelis – and most Jews worldwide – are loathe to give up. And, if I’m really honest with myself, as a (liberal) Zionist who shares the Jewish national dream of those kibbutzniks, then perhaps the pain is also mine.
Nowhere was the tension between resisting occupation and demanding more fundamental claims more evident than in Darwish’s highly controversial 1988 poem called “Passers Between the Passing Words.” There, Darwish wrote: “It is time for you to be gone. Live wherever you like, but do not live among us…. For we have work to do in our land. So leave our country, our land, our sea, our wheat, our salt, our wounds, everything; and leave.”
With the first intifada raging at the time, Tamar is certain that the poem is about the occupation, not about Israel itself. “What can the occupied do?” Tamar recalls Darwish saying. The irony is that Darwish didn’t even think it was a good poem, Tamar says. To be judged by that poem pained him, and more than anything he longed to be considered a universal poet, Tamar adds.
After the 1988 poem controversy, Tamar found herself in Paris, trying to reconnect with Darwish, who was now at the centre of Palestinian politics. While she was sitting with him, Darwish took a call from Yasser Arafat. They spoke in Arabic. She could not make out what they were saying. The next day, when she called him again, Darwish rebuffed her: “You are not my girlfriend.”
We can never know whether Darwish, who died in 2008, chose politics over matters of the heart, or whether this unkind ending was just like so many ruptures between once-lovers: prosaic and universal.
But Darwish and Tamar did have contact again. After Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin’s assassination, Darwish reached out to her in compassion. And, in 2000, Education Minister Yossi Sarid attempted to introduce two Darwish poems to the Israeli (Jewish) national curriculum. Stormy Knesset debate ensued, and the government narrowly survived a no-confidence vote. Darwish called Tamar. “My poetry is so important that over it the government nearly fell?” he mused.
Though their romance had ended, they clearly shared a sense of absurdity in how the universal language of poetry can be thrust into the forefront of the ugly struggles over land, narratives, history and invisibility. It’s a story that continues to be told, even as Tamar will always think in terms of interpersonal love as much as in terms of borders and territory.
Mira Sucharovis an associate professor of political science at Carleton University. She blogs at Haaretz and the Jewish Daily Forward. A version of this article was originally published on haartez.com.
Organizers estimate 180,000 people marched in the Tel Aviv Pride parade, June 12. (photo by Robin Perelle)
Alberto Lukacs-Böhm dabs a handful of birds onto the sunny sea-to-sky poster he’s painting for Tel Aviv Pride.
To live openly as a gay man in today’s Tel Aviv is to be free, he says. “It’s like to drink a fresh, clean water. That’s freedom.”
The 65-year-old is one of seven seniors gathered around a table at the Tel Aviv gay centre on June 11. The members of Golden Rainbow (Keshet Zahav) are chatting and painting as they finalize their plans to march together in the city’s 17th annual Pride parade the next day.
For Lukacs-Böhm, the path to freedom was somewhat complicated. Though he knew he was gay from a very young age, he married a woman in Hungary to avoid upsetting his mother, a circus illusionist who cried when he told her he’d kissed a boy at age 13.
He returned to Israel in 1988, the same year the country decriminalized homosexual sex. It was time, he says, “to take back my life in my hand.”
“From very young, everybody knows I’m a gay,” he explains, “[but] it was always complicated to be gay.”
“Is it still complicated to be gay?” I ask.
“Nooo,” he says, his face lighting up in an ear-to-ear smile.
“No whatsoever!”
“To speak about homosexuality or lesbian or transgender – it’s absolutely normal in Israel,” he says.
* * *
It’s day two of a five-day press trip to Israel, sponsored and entirely funded by the Israeli tourism ministry to show off Tel Aviv Pride to 43 journalists from around the world.
Day one began with an exuberant tour of gay Tel Aviv, led by Shai Doitsh, chair from 2012 to 2015 of the Aguda, Israel’s national LGBT task force. For the last decade, Doitsh has also been working with the tourism ministry and the municipality of Tel Aviv to market the city as a gay destination, a project he initiated in 2005, according to his LinkedIn profile.
Doitsh paints a rosy picture of Tel Aviv as one of the most accepting cities in the world, a year-round gay haven, where as much as 25 to 35 percent of the population may be gay, he claims.
Tel Aviv is a gay hub, both in Israel and throughout the region, he says, pausing repeatedly on Rothschild Boulevard and its surrounding streets to point out gay-friendly venues and the abundance of rainbow flags flying throughout the city for Pride.
Alberto Lukacs-Böhm, right, stands behind Golden Rainbow members Nitzan Aviv and David Goldstein, centre. (photo by Robin Perelle)
He lists the many rights and benefits enjoyed by gay Tel Avivim, such as protection from workplace discrimination (introduced throughout Israel in 1992); the right to serve equally in the military (considered deeply important in a culture that requires military duty and prioritizes serving one’s country); the right to adopt your same-sex partner’s children (though surrogacy and marriage remain off-limits under the purview of ultra-Orthodox rabbis who frown on gay families); and Tel Aviv’s gay centre and Pride parade, both supported and funded by the municipality.
The gay community has a strong presence in Tel Aviv and in the city’s secular politics, Doitsh says.
“Our movement and our fight for equality is definitely the most successful in Israel” among the country’s minority groups, he says.
* * *
Doitsh may have a vested interest in trumpeting Tel Aviv’s gay appeal, but every gay, lesbian and transgender Israeli I’ve interviewed in the last few weeks has echoed his assessment. The city genuinely welcomes and supports its LGBT community, they say, or at least those members who more closely match mainstream norms.
It’s also a bubble that bears little resemblance to the rest of Israel, they all agree.
“Being in Tel Aviv is a bit like being in New York and pretending you see the entire United States,” says Moshe Zvi who, with his partner Eyal Alon, has joined the crowd gathering in Meir Park for the city’s Pride parade June 12.
“It’s a state within a state,” Alon says.
“I call it a bubble of sanity,” Zvi says.
Organizers tell us that 180,000 people are expected to gather in Meir Park to march in this year’s parade, making it the largest Pride in the Middle East and Asia.
As the marchers begin to file out towards Bograshov Street, Alon and Zvi tell me about some of the tensions that simmer beneath Israel’s seemingly gay-friendly surface.
Though Tel Aviv is a more liberal, secular city, Israel’s relatively small ultra-Orthodox Jewish community wields a disproportionate amount of political power in the national legislature due to the nature of Israel’s coalition politics, which rely on small-party support to pass most initiatives.
The ultra-Orthodox hold “almost a monopoly on power concerning marriage, cemeteries, conversion,” David Goldstein says.
Goldstein, 73, moved to Tel Aviv five years ago from San Francisco, fulfilling a lifelong dream. Now a member of the Golden Rainbow group, he says he feels much safer here than in the United States. But Tel Aviv is a bubble, he readily agrees.
It’s a secular city founded by Jewish businessmen who wanted a city of their own, he explains. Jerusalem, in contrast, is a holy city. Tel Aviv is anything but, he says, though it’s holy to the gay community and others who encourage diversity and a cosmopolitan lifestyle – anathema to the ultra-Orthodox community’s strictly religious worldview.
“They’re a very closed community,” Zvi says.
Being gay is “illogical in their way of thinking,” Goldstein says. “They would say, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that you’re this way.’”
Though he doesn’t consider the ultra-Orthodox mean-spirited in their anti-gay views – it’s “not the hatred that I find among [the] American right-wing,” he says – their steadfast repudiation of gay families makes life outside Tel Aviv less hospitable.
In one of Israel’s few headline-grabbing anti-gay hate crimes, an ultra-Orthodox man notoriously stabbed three people in the Jerusalem Pride parade in 2005, as protesters, mostly religious Jews, lined the route. Jerusalem Pride persists, I’m told, but it’s both more political and more tense than Tel Aviv’s cheerful take on the event.
It is getting easier to come out in other parts of Israel, Alon says. But it’s still easiest in Tel Aviv, where the ultra-Orthodox community is smaller, wields less power and seems more resigned to surrender the secular city to its wicked ways.
* * *
Then there are the more obvious, if less willingly broached, tensions.
Of course, Tel Aviv is a bubble, says Tal Jarus-Hakak who, with her partner Avital, was a lesbian feminist in Israel long before their nine-year legal battle successfully set a precedent allowing gays and lesbians to adopt their partners’ children.
Tel Aviv may be a cheerful, colorful, tolerant city with beautiful beaches, clubs, an increasingly well-established gay community with more and more families and businesses, and “an amazing, vibrant” gay culture, they say, but 60 kilometres away there is war, violence and poverty in many areas of Israel.
I’m sitting with the Jarus-Hakaks on the deck of their Vancouver home a few days after my return from Israel, a country they left in 2006 because, despite all their attempts to change its policies through protest and democratic means, they found the pace of change too slow and life there too traumatic, especially raising three sons.
Staying inside the bubble of Tel Aviv is “a survival mode,” Tal says. But it can get uncomfortable, too.
“Is that why you moved here?” I ask.
It’s hard to live outside the bubble – with consciousness – but it’s hard to stay inside the bubble, too, she says. Many people would call us traitors for saying this, she adds, but we’re not speaking against Israel. We’re speaking for Israel, to try to do things differently, she says.
Hadar Namir says she doesn’t want to go back to Israel either. One of Israel’s pioneering lesbian activists, Namir has been on vacation in Vancouver since April.
“I’m not wishing to go back,” she says. “I’m not comfortable with the human rights situation in Israel. That, for example, Arab-Israeli citizens are remote from being equal – and this is authorized by the government for years.”
Namir, who spent 15 years working with Israel’s Association for Civil Rights, draws me a map of the country. She places Tel Aviv on the Mediterranean coast, adds Haifa further north and Jerusalem about 45 minutes east, inland. Then she adds the occupied territories.
Hadar Namir says she’s uncomfortable with the human rights situation in Israel. (photo by Robin Perelle)
The map, unlike anything I saw during our ministry-sponsored tours of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, fills with fences and checkpoints, until it’s a messy, convoluted ink-blot puzzle. She tells me stories of families divided, cut off from each other and their land or forced to take long detours to tend their olive trees, if they can tend them at all. She says there are different legal systems in the occupied territories: one for Jewish people accused of committing a crime and a different system for Arab people. She talks about inadequate government support for Arab cities, and difficulty accessing health care.
“Some gay men say, ‘let not interfere our fight for LGBT rights with other fights.’ Not me. I don’t believe it,” she says.
“I don’t want to simplify things,” she hastens to add. “It’s much more complicated” than good Israelis and Hamas terrorists. “And I do understand the desire for a Jewish state,” she says.
But different people have different narratives, she says: Independence Day for some is considered a disaster for others.
* * *
One commonly repeated narrative in Israel and around the world is that Arab communities kill gay people, further distinguishing Israel as a gay oasis.
Most of the Israelis I met in Tel Aviv hesitated when I asked them if gay Palestinians would be marching in the Pride parade.
There must be some gay Palestinians here, Zvi and Alon say, after a brief pause.
“I don’t think it’s easy being a gay Arab anywhere,” Zvi offers. “As in everything, I think life in Israel is easier than life in Palestine.”
Alon mentions a gay Palestinian party in Tel Aviv, and some gay-known coffee shops in Ramallah. But they’re discreet, he says.
Karl Walter, one of our tour guides, says there likely are Arabs participating in the parade, but quietly. They wouldn’t be able to go home, he tells me, “because the Arabs would kill them.”
Arabs “crush” gays in Gaza and in Ramallah, he asserts.
The reality, says Samira Saraya, is more complicated.
Saraya lives in Tel Aviv as an openly gay Palestinian woman. She is also an actress, an activist and a nurse who, in 2003, co-founded Aswat, a group for gay Palestinian women. She also attended the first monthly gay Palestinian parties in Tel Aviv.
“It’s complicated to live in Tel Aviv and be an Arab as well,” she tells me by phone, a week after my return from Israel. “Living in a kind of militaristic society…. On the other hand, I really love the people around me. But the moment we get into politics, it’s complicated.”
I ask her if Tel Aviv’s gay-friendly embrace extends to gay Palestinians.
“If you are willing to bargain your identity, if you are willing to be more Israeli, less Palestinian,” she says. “It depends.”
I ask if she has faced discrimination within the gay community.
“Of course,” she replies. She recalls one experience doing outreach to high school students with a mostly Jewish LGBT organization and hearing a fellow presenter say he wouldn’t date an Arab.
In the gay community, she says, “they don’t see that there is a connection between being oppressed for your sexual identity and your ethnic identity.”
As for the common refrain that Arabs kill gays, she says it’s too easy to paint Israel as democratic and gay-friendly against a backdrop of Arab homophobia. She says she enters the occupied territories as an openly gay Palestinian and no one has ever hurt her.
“I go as a lesbian to Ramallah, as well, and to Nazareth, and do not face homophobia or somebody cursing me because I’m a dyke.”
Palestinian society is “chauvinist and homophobic,” she says, but there are Palestinian people in the occupied territories living their lives as openly gay and nobody is killing them. Some of her friends are even out to their families, she adds.
Though Saraya says many Palestinians who live in Israel go to Tel Aviv Pride, it’s almost impossible for gay people from the occupied territories to get permission to attend. “Less and less people are permitted to come to Israel,” she says. “There are checkpoints and restrictions and protocols.”
* * *
I ask Namir what she thinks of the Israeli tourism ministry flying me and 42 other journalists from around the world to Tel Aviv for Pride.
Tel Aviv is a genuinely gay-friendly city, she says, and the municipality really does support the parade, the community centre and even a shelter for LGBT youth. “I do believe the credit is there,” she says. “I’m totally respectful that the minute that we decided to go out of the closet in 1993, they were opening the doors to us.” But it’s still “pinkwashing,” she says.
Tal Jarus-Hakak agrees. The ministry brought you over to show “the nice part of Israel, how tolerant we are,” she tells me.
It’s “part of their propaganda to show Israel as a gem in this area” – the only democratic country in this area, she says.
But Israel is the only democratic country in that area, Avital interjects.
“But even if that’s the case, it does not take off of Israel the responsibility for what it’s doing in the occupied territories,” Tal replies.
“There’s nothing wrong about the parade in Tel Aviv and nothing wrong about people coming to the parade,” Saraya says. “What’s wrong is trying to use the parade to cover the other violations that Israel do every day. This is pinkwashing.”
Zvi isn’t so sure. He doesn’t think showing off Pride necessarily detracts from the Palestinian situation. “I think mindfulness is in order,” he says, “but I’m glad people are coming to Tel Aviv. God knows Israel could use some good publicity. Should Tel Aviv not get this kind of feedback? I want tourists to come here.”
Walter, our guide, vehemently rejects any suggestion of pinkwashing.
“The thing to understand is that the gay parade and all that we’ve accomplished is for us,” he says, “not for tourism. It’s not for show. It’s not a PR stunt. It’s the most visible expression of freedom in the world – the only free gay community in the Middle East. People tend to forget that. We don’t.”
Gay rights in Israel have nothing to do with the Palestinian situation, he says. “If anyone uses the term pinkwashing, you immediately know that he’s a racist and a homophobe. He doesn’t have the decency to say that my foes – they did something good.”
Tourism ministries in other countries also show off their best traits to visitors, Goldstein points out.
He, too, finds the pinkwashing criticism unfair.
“I think the critics of Israel – they’re really against Israel to begin with,” he says. “People who have an axe to grind and [are] trying to besmirch Israel any way they can. So, any good points, they say they’re doing it to fool the people. I think it’s a bit antisemitic to say that.”
* * *
Back in the seniors’ room at the Tel Aviv gay centre, Lukacs-Böhm cheerfully cleans up his paints and prepares for another day in his gay paradise.
“For me, [to] be free is to drink cold, clean water when I want and how I want,” he says, with a smile.
Robin Perelleis the managing editor in Vancouver of Daily Xtra, Canada’s gay and lesbian news source. This story first ran on dailyxtra.com on July 2.
When focusing on Israeli-Palestinian relations, as I do for a living, it’s nice to have a good news story to relay once in awhile. On June 22, the annual Victor J. Goldberg Prize for Peace in the Middle East (run by the New York-based Institute of International Education) was awarded to Yehuda Stolov and Salah Aladdin, two leaders of the Interfaith Encounter Association (IEA). To many outsiders, inter-ethnic encounter experiences seem a no-brainer when it comes to grassroots, peace-building efforts. But not everyone is so convinced, particularly the “anti-normalization” faction of the Palestine solidarity movement.
The Goldberg Prize recognizes “outstanding work being conducted jointly by two individuals, one Arab and one Israeli, working together to advance the cause of peace in the Middle East … [by] bringing people together and breaking down the barriers of hatred toward ‘the other.’” It comes with $10,000 US.
IEA brings together Israelis and West Bank Palestinians to engage with one another in an “interactive, interfaith encounter” context. The organization has run 1,900 programs over 13 years, with 4,000 individuals participating in 2014 alone. Stolov is executive director of IEA, and Aladdin has taken on various leadership roles in the organization, most recently as assistant director.
The so-called “anti-normalization” movement is amplified by elements of the Palestine solidarity movement who associate with BDS (boycott, divestment and sanctions). For example, the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel guidelines urge that Israeli-Palestinian encounter-type initiatives be boycotted under the rubric of “anti-normalization.” The guidelines go on to suggest that “events, projects, publications, films or exhibitions that are designed to bring together Palestinians/Arabs and Israelis so they can present their respective narratives or perspectives, or to work toward reconciliation, ‘overcoming barriers,’ etc., without addressing the root causes of injustice and the requirements of justice” be boycotted.
The anti-normalization tendency may be understandable as a philosophical commitment, particularly if one believes – as those BDS activists do – that justice points to the amelioration of only one side’s lot. But even if one believes that the only justice to be served is that of the Palestinians, the anti-normalization tendency is a misguided way to hope to achieve it.
Psychologists have long shown the importance of the “contact hypothesis” for reducing intergroup prejudice. Recent studies have even shown that even “imagining a positive interaction” with an outgroup member can be just as powerful in reducing prejudice as face-to-face encounters can be. And the first step in getting Israelis to realize the power their country wields over Palestinian life and dignity is to render the Palestinian experience visible.
Stolov agrees. The only way to end the occupation, Stolov explained when I reached him by phone in Israel, is to increase the sense of human connection between Israelis and Palestinians. Aware of the anti-normalization pressures some participants may feel, participation in IEA is kept “under the radar,” press access is restricted and meeting spots are chosen so the events can appear as inconspicuous as possible.
As the lead Palestinian drafter of the 2003 Geneva initiative, which sought to lay out a two-state plan for Israeli-Palestinian peace, Ghaith al-Omari has every reason to be jaded. And having advised the Palestinian negotiating team from 1999 to 2001, al-Omari knows firsthand how little has emerged from the halting peace process. Still, he has recently declared his opposition to the anti-normalization movement in a moving essay in Fikra Forum, reprinted on the Third Narrative website (thirdnarrative.org/israel-palestine-articles/ills-of-anti-normalization), where I serve as co-director of its scholars for Israel and Palestine affiliate group. People like al-Omari and the founders of IEA and even the Goldberg peace prize visionaries realize the possibilities inherent in hope rather than cynicism. And if you have to choose among them – as it seems you do these days – I’d rather be on the side of hope.
Mira Sucharovis an associate professor of political science at Carleton University. She blogs at Haaretz and the Jewish Daily Forward. This article was originally published in the Canadian Jewish News.
Ari Shavit speaks at Winnipeg’s Shaarey Zedek Synagogue. (photo by Rebeca Kuropatwa)
As part of the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada’s Annual Sol and Florence Kanee Distinguished Lecture Speaker Series, leading Israeli columnist and writer Ari Shavit addressed a packed room of 300 people on the topic Is Peace Dead? The talk took place April 19 at Shaarey Zedek Synagogue in Winnipeg.
Shavit, who described himself a “diehard peacenik,” said he is more comfortable referring to what some call “the Arab Awakening” as “the Arab Chaos.”
He explained, “We were hoping for an Arab Spring. It turned into something else and the result is the Arab Chaos. The old order that ruled over the Arab world has collapsed, but it was not replaced by any liberal democracy. It was replaced with more tribalism, more fanaticism and much more violence. We now see a human catastrophe engulfing a large part of the region and the acute situation of instability. I care about my fellow humans and we have to be saddened that we have such a terrible human catastrophe.”
Even worse, in Shavit’s view, “There is no more chance in the upcoming years to have the old kind of peace we hoped for,” he said. “I don’t think we can have the kind of peace agreement like with Egypt or Jordan in the coming years, because those were peace agreements that were signed with tyranny.”
Shavit used Syria as an example, saying that, back in the 1990s and in early 2000, he very much supported a peace agreement with Syria. But, he said, “Now, there is no one to make peace with.
“The good news is the more clear division within the Arab community. Many Arab moderates are now terrified by Iran, by ISIS, by the Islamic Brotherhood, by Al-Qaeda, by extremists, [so] they actually are closer to Israel than they ever were in the past. So, there is a kind of interesting potential within this sad, tragic, acute situation.”
According to Shavit, the road to peace today begins with the understanding that we cannot reach a two-state solution with the Palestinians in the coming months or years.
“We won’t have the comprehensive peace we hoped for,” said Shavit. “But, on the other hand, we should not accept the status quo. And, I think we should launch a two-state dynamic, which would lead to a two-state state to start with, and eventually lead to a two-state solution.”
Regionally, Shavit stressed the need for Israel to work much more closely with Egypt, Saudi Arabia, the Gulf countries and Jordan, as, he said, “They are closer to Israel than they ever were.”
Though Shavit conceded that the likelihood of signing a new formal peace agreement may not currently be in the cards, he encouraged “building a kind of peace based on economic interests, mutual interests and strategic interests.”
What Shavit envisions is “the kind of peace agreement [Israel] had with Jordan before the 1994 peace signing. There were no embassies, there were no Nobel Prizes, no White House ceremonies, but we had a very close, intimate relationship – quite a lot of the time – better than after the formal signing. That should be an example of what can be done in this new chaotic situation.”
Shavit sees potential for “cooperation as opposed to a utopian peace.” Potential partners for this cooperation, Shavit suggested would include “the major Arab Sunni nations led by moderate people…. [People who] are not deeply concerned or interested in human rights or democracy, but they don’t want extremists. Saudi Arabia and the other Gulf States fall into that category. So, the strategic game now is pretty much controlled by two non-Arab countries – Israel and Turkey – and, I would say, Egypt and Saudi Arabia.”
As to whether or not these partners are interested in just cooperation or a more lasting peace, Shavit said, “I think they want to live and they want stability. Therefore, if we promote this new peace concept, I think there’s a chance of having a better relationship. I think many of them see Israel as a partner in that.
“It’s not that they are going to have a religious conversion…. I don’t see a kind of relationship that France and Spain have or Canada and the U.S. do, but, I do see a kind of Middle East-style relationship – the ability to create a structure that can be formed again if we endorse the right ideas.”
Regarding Israel’s recent elections, Shavit feels that the left lost more than the right won. “The lack of a peace plan of action had a lot to do with that. Even the left-wing part[ies] were not very aggressive at promotional peace. The peace talked about in the national community is a kind of peace that is totally detached.”
Shavit is hopeful that Israelis will open their hearts to peace, in the case where “a kind of new peace, a concept that is more realistic, comes around. As long as the community talks about European-style peace, when we have a kind of evil political reality in a large part of the Middle East, Israelis will not buy into that.”
International support is critical to any potential peace progress and, while Shavit loves Canada in many ways, he said, “I appreciate that Canada is supportive of Israel, when there aren’t many that support Israel in such a way. [But] obviously, the real relevant player is the United States.
“I hope that America will endorse a new kind of peace policy and then build a wide coalition – first of all with Canada, then with the European powers and then with the moderate Arabs and Israelis – addressing the issues in a realistic way.”
Shavit believes that the “dysfunctional relationship” of Binyamin Netanyahu and Barack Obama is not advancing the situation. “I hope I can be successful in encouraging an intellectual process to be helpful in bringing some change to that,” he said.
Shavit, like many others in Israel and around the world, is waiting to see what kind of Israeli government will be formed. “If we do have a right-wing government, with [Avigdor] Lieberman being the centre, I worry that we will have unpleasant legislation that will alienate the Arab minority even more and jeopardize the fragile relationship with them. If it will be more moderate in the centre, there is less danger.
“I think the last six months were very troubling, with unprecedented legislation or attempts [to discriminate], though most failed. I hope and pray that our power will not go back to that kind of approach. I think it will endanger Israel’s soul in a serious way.”
Shavit is hopeful that minority rights will not be trampled, as “the tradition of the historic Israeli right always combines nationalism with liberalism, with a deep respect for democracy. I really hope we will not see dark forces in Israel rising to power.”
Mira Sucharov spoke on March 2 as part of the University of Winnipeg’s Middle East Week. (photo from Mira Sucharov)
As part of Middle East Week at the University of Winnipeg, Mira Sucharov, associate professor of political science at Carleton University in Ottawa, spoke on the topic of Power and Identity Across the Israeli-Palestinian Divide.
About 60 people came out March 2 to the university’s Convocation Hall to hear Sucharov, who is currently the country analyst for Israel and the Palestinian territories for Freedom House, as well as a blogger and writer whose work appears regularly in several publications around the world, including the Jewish Independent.
Sucharov sees relations between Palestinians and Israelis as more polarized now than at any other time since the peace process that began two decades ago. She said she was pleased to be part of U of W’s Middle East Week, as it promotes dialogue, in contrast to the situation on many North American campuses, where hardened opposing camps are choosing shouting over listening.
Describing herself as a liberal Zionist, Sucharov explained the term as referring to someone who “believes that there is legitimacy to Israel’s existence, and that nations deserve a state.” However, “liberal Zionists not only acknowledge the existence of Israel and support its existence, they are deeply troubled by its occupation.”
Sucharov said that, while some Israelis and Israel supporters prefer the term “disputed land” to the term “occupation,” Sucharov views “occupation” as “an important word.” She explained, “We’re not just talking about a geographic swap of land. We’re talking about a population of Palestinians who are not citizens of any country.
“The IDF, on a macro level and often on a micro level, is in charge of the area and the daily lives of Palestinians who have to pass through checkpoints to get to work, to farm their land…. We know about the Israeli security barrier or separation wall that has served to disrupt daily lives in many ways in the West Bank.
“So, liberal Zionists are troubled by this idea of occupation and seek to do what they can to end it. As a Canadian from Winnipeg, I feel that by engaging in constructive discussion, constantly being educated, I can help people at a global level think more deeply, critically, and in a more engaged way about issues of global concern.”
Sucharov said that there are financial incentives, as well as ideological motivations, for living in the West Bank. “There are many who’ve moved to the West Bank because it’s cheaper,” she noted. “Part of it, no doubt, was wanting to return to biblical Israel, a sense of having a greater Israel, of being/having religious/national identity fulfilled. There’s another important motivating factor, and that was the idea of Israel having a wider girth, more strategic depth.”
In Sucharov’s view, “the occupation” should not be permanent, and dialogue is needed to get governments together for peace talks. “The only way to end the occupation is if Israelis and Palestinians come together to discuss and negotiate an agreement,” she said.
As for what such an agreement may look like, Sucharov imagines “a city with two capitals: Jerusalem, a holy place for all religions to pray at their own places of worship. Refugees will probably be returned, free return to a Palestinian state. There will probably be some compensation package, [on a] humanitarian basis for some refugees … based on historical agreements.”
If the Geneva initiative does take place, said Sucharov, “Can Israel feel safe with such an agreement?
“It used to be called, ‘give an inch, they’ll take a mile,’” she continued. “Now, there is a concern about the fact that Palestinians in a recent poll have indicated that they would want to use a two-state agreement as the beginnings of full takeover.
“Palestinians, no doubt, would want all of Israel … many of them … and Israelis, no doubt, would want all of Palestine … many of them. The question is, even if some Palestinians were desirous of acquiring or launching terrorist missions with or without the consent of its governing authority, could Israel defend itself?”
If/when Israelis and Palestinians reach an agreement, she said, they would have to make sure that there were “security guarantees from the United States … [that] the U.S. will guarantee the security of Israel.
“Palestine would have to agree to be a de-militarized state. So, both sides will not have to necessarily trust each other … [they] would have to understand that there is a security guarantee in the form of a major global superpower.
“That’s the two-state solution. But, there certainly are those in the military establishment of any state who could stand to gain from an ongoing conflict…. We have to … make peace seem more attractive.”
As things stand, Sucharov said, “Palestinians and Israelis are almost mutually fearful of one another.… I think the biggest obstacle is the culture of mutual fear.”
And then there is the question of whether or not Iran, if there is the possibility of peace between Israelis and Palestinians, will “behave in a suicidal fashion,” said Sucharov. “That’s what, in international relations, [they] call the … idea of nuclear deterrence – the idea that more nukes make the world safer. I’d prefer less nukes, less proliferation, but there is a logic to the idea of stability of nuclear weapons.
“Once peace is achieved by the government, ideally, the next generation grows up in a culture in which the status quo exists.
“Regional threats would be diffused to make peace,” she continued. However, “the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is not the only conflict in the region and we’re not going to see peace on earth, but Iran and other enemies of Israel … Hamas … would have less wind in their sails. The status quo would be peace, so there would hopefully be less local support for their belligerent postures.”
In September of 1978, U.S. president Jimmy Carter was at his wit’s end after 12 days of face-to-face negotiations between himself, Egyptian president Anwar Sadat and Israeli prime minister Menachem Begin.
Neither party was at all inclined to make peace, both had legitimate grievances with the other nation, advisors were telling them peace was not possible and that the leader and the nation each man represented could not be trusted. Things got so heated that all three parties had packed their bags and prepared statements that the talks had failed. Cars were idling in the Camp David driveway and Marine One, the presidential helicopter, was being readied to return Carter to Washington empty-handed.
Failure then, in the midst of the Cold War, would have meant an opening for the further arming of Egypt by the USSR and the nuclearization of the Middle East, where ultimately the fanatical forces that were then lurking in the shadows could very well force the Superpowers into a feared nuclear standoff. This was much like what was happening in East and West Germany at the time, only in the hot desert sands of the Middle East, it was far more likely that tempers would boil over.
These were the stakes at Camp David. The proposition was that Israel give back the Sinai Desert, land it had captured in the Six Day War, land that served as their saving buffer zone in the Yom Kippur War just five years earlier. Land that contained settlements of Israeli citizens that Begin had pledged on his life never to abandon. To do all of that in exchange for a piece of paper that promised peace, signed by three men who did not trust each other.
No one thought it probable or possible, not between these three men, Begin and Sadat, who had spent a lifetime fighting each other, and Carter, who lacked power at home and credibility abroad.
And, yet, they signed a lasting peace treaty. Israel had been at war with Egypt in one form or another for literally millennia, since the days of Pharaoh. They have not been at war since and, next to Jordan, Egypt is Israel’s closest ally in the region today.
Mark Twain said, “History doesn’t repeat itself but it often rhymes.” No two eras or events are the same, but many if not all have similarities.
Three years before Camp David, president Gerald Ford had announced that the United States would be reevaluating its relationship with Israel because of Israel’s power play, along with France, in the Suez Canal. A crisis, if you recall, that nearly, like the Cuban Missile Crisis, was only a series of missteps away from another nuclear confrontation between the United States and the USSR.
You could not have had Camp David if you had not also had the sobering realization of the Suez Canal Crisis. Carter could not have pressured Begin to do the good and hard thing for the future of Israel if Ford had not created enough daylight between the United States and Israel for Begin to see the light at the end of the endless wars with Egypt tunnel.
“History doesn’t repeat itself but it often rhymes.” I am neither a politician, nor a political scientist – though in truth I have a degree in the latter and every rabbi must ultimately learn the skills of the former. I am a student and teacher of history, the history of our people both in the land and yearning for the Land of Israel – and in all that has happened in these past many years, really since the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin (alav ha’shalom), I hear the rhyme of history.
Call it “darkest before the dawn,” but while I am filled with worry, the seriousness of the matter gives me hope that it can no longer be ignored or put off. That the pressure of absolutes that made Camp David possible has returned to make peace between the Israelis and Palestinians possible, though still improbable once again.
The region and its people are under near-bursting pressure. But pressure such as faces Israel also clarifies priorities. The greatest achievements of diplomacy have often come in the face of the most extreme pressure or, as Carl von Clausewitz wrote, “War is diplomacy by other means.”
Let’s examine the pressures in play.
In Israel, the status quo between Israelis and Palestinians is set to devolve into a third intifada. Meanwhile, there is a seismic schism between the Jews in Tel Aviv who voted overwhelmingly for the left and the Jews in Jerusalem who voted overwhelmingly for the right. Israelis on left and right are living two different realities, and they want two different futures for themselves and for the Palestinians.
In the Arab world, the forces of fundamentalism have shaken what little remains of the nation-states from their complacency with and tolerance for radicalization. Arab armies are mobilized against radicalism and terror. Yes, there is a vacuum of leadership throughout the Arab world, including among the Palestinians – but that also creates space for a leader to emerge.
Outside of the Middle East there is a fundamental disagreement between Western democracies that want Israel to act more like them, and Israel that wants the West to see that the terrorist threat confronting its democracy today is coming to their shores tomorrow. And for much of Europe tomorrow is today.
Jews are under attack around the globe. Antisemitism has come out of hiding once again. Much of antisemitism is ignorance and, yet, where do we find it? Most shockingly in our institutions of higher learning, where, in the most distorted and twisted forms, they equate Jews with Nazis. We see this happening particularly in the BDS campaigns that are sweeping across North American university campuses and right here at the University of British Columbia. These same antisemites defend terrorists as “heroes,” inviting them as speakers on campus. The Talmud says, “olam hafouch,” the world is upside down. Indeed, bigotry masquerades as fairness.
The pressure is not only external; it is internal, as well. The relationship between Jews in the Diaspora and Jews in Israel is becoming a dysfunctional marriage. It’s not headed for divorce but maybe separate bedrooms, as each tries to focus on things they love about the other, even when they are disappointed in the other.
It seems hopeless, I know, this election result whether you are left or right – the winner of the election was “hopelessness” itself. As Binyamin Netanyahu declared, in his view, there will never be a Palestinian state while he is prime minister. Those who voted for him believe that to be true and those who voted against him believe that to be true. That is the very definition of being without hope.
There is no solution to this conflict in this neighborhood, in this region, in this time. And, with no Palestinian leader who can do the same, it’s just not possible.
And, yet, we said the same before Camp David. We never thought Rabin would shake Arafat’s hand or make peace with Jordan. That Sharon, who built the settlements in Gaza would dismantle them, and that it didn’t lead to civil war.
Begin, Rabin, Sharon. These were not peace seekers, these were warriors, evolved Hawks.
We are not ready for another Camp David today; Netanyahu is not anywhere near ready, and there is no leader on the other side who can be a Sadat or a King Hussein of Jordan, a warrior who has the credibility to make peace.
By the same token, the only one in Israel right now who has the credibility to make peace with the Palestinians is Netanyahu. If he signs off on it, the people will believe it.
We are in a dark period and it may get darker. The pressure on Israel will only increase. The choices the country will have to make are impossible to understand right now. Our own solidarity both with Israel and with each other as fellow Jews will be tested, and there will be cracks. But that is nothing new for us, or for Israel. We don’t always agree, as Jews here or there, past or present, we seldom agree. In the end, however, what we have always done is survive. There’s the biggest improbability of all: that we are still here.
Israel is 67 years old. By comparison, it took the United States 150 years to reconcile slavery, a process that included a civil war, incomprehensible social disorder and civil unrest. And the United States, which is almost 200 years older than Israel, is still not yet resolved on the issue of race, as Ferguson – among many other events – reminds us.
Canada could say some of the same about true reconciliation with First Nations. We are not yet there.
This election was part of the growing pains of a nation and, in the age of nations, Israel is barely a teenager. Israel is the bat mitzvah girl who stands proudly, if not ironically, before the congregation and declares, “Today, I am a woman!” And we all smile and say to ourselves, “Not yet, but today you gave us a glimpse of the woman you will one day be. It would be more accurate to proclaim, “Today, I will no longer act like a child.”
“The arc of history is long,” Martin Luther King Jr. preached, “but it bends toward justice.” That’s the history of the world and it’s the story of our people, a story we are telling again around our seder tables this week.
What do you take away from the seder? That Pharaoh was cruel? That slavery was terrible? Yes, but also that we were redeemed; that the pressure on Pharaoh ultimately helped him see the light.
“La’yehudim hayta orah” we sang just recently on Purim and every week, as we end Shabbat with Havdalah. “The Jews enjoyed light and gladness, honor and joy. May we, too, experience these same blessings.” In another dark time, when all hope appeared lost, there was light. Let there be light once again!
Dan Moskovitzis senior rabbi of Temple Sholom in Vancouver.
Road to Peace: left to right, Josh Morry of the Arab Jewish Dialogue on Campus, and AJD’s Howard Morry and Ab Freig. (photo by Rebeca Kuropatwa)
Founded in 2006, the Arab Jewish Dialogue (AJD) is a national organization based in Winnipeg with the goal of improving relations and respect between Arabs and Jews through dialogue and education. On Feb. 23, AJD co-founder and co-chair Ab Freig, co-chair Howard Morry and AJD on Campus founder Josh Morry spoke at the University of Manitoba on The Road to Peace in the Arab Israeli Conflict – A Conversation with the Arab Jewish Dialogue.
Of AJD on Campus compared to AJD, Josh Morry said, “We, too, discuss issues that are difficult and that often make us feel uncomfortable. The only difference is some policy statements that make our group more conducive to operating on campus.
“One of the things we added to our constitution, and I believe you can find it on the website, is that we abhor the use of name calling. Not only does this undermine policies, but it stops people from being able to engage in positive dialogue.”
The core campus group consists of six Arab members and six Jewish members. Plans are in the works for the organization to host a Middle East feast at the U of M.
Since AJD on Campus formed, Morry said, “I’ve seen firsthand a reduction in the hateful speech that undermines the policies. Jewish students feel much safer on campus now.”
About Arab and Jewish relations, Freig said, “We talk about what is the best case scenario: living in peace and harmony, prosperity, cooperation. We talk about that and understand it. Then we talk about the obstacles and how we can overcome them. We both need to identify what’s best for us.
“That’s the basics of what we do. In order for us to do that, we needed to dig deeper. No one seems to dig deeper to understand. So, I’ll meet with people and start with a discussion on how to take it from here.”
Freig has witnessed how what starts in the dialogue group passes onto children, cousins, and further.
Howard Morry provided an example of how, simply by acting from a humanistic level, he was able to restore trust within the group after one of the times Israel sent its military into Gaza. He told those gathered that the Jewish members were sorry for any loss of life during the operation. “Once I said that, it was as if the oxygen was put back in the room,” he explained. “The people that were sitting cross-armed changed their posture to a more open one. And then, continuing with this … we actually had a very productive talk – politically, strategically, and at every level. But, until that moment, we had lost all the trust in that room and we couldn’t move any further.”
Recently, AJD has been talking a lot about ISIS, working to understand who is supporting them, how they are getting the money and what is driving them. And, because of the violence that happened in France with Charlie Hebdo, they also took some time to discuss the Prophet Mohammed.
“There was a Muslim Arab in the group who explained [the concerns] to the other members,” said Freig. “We issued a statement. We condemn violence and we support freedom of expression and [the] press. We put together a press release, signed by the Jewish and Arab members.”
While AJD has been going strong for nine years, creating the same kind of openness and trust within a university setting will be a challenge. “Unless you’re a really bad student, you’re not going to be part of this group for nine years, because you graduate,” said Josh Morry. “I think before we expand across Canada, we have to expand across Winnipeg. So, it would be nice to a get a student here to set up a group at the University of Winnipeg (U of W).”
He noted that it may be easier for AJD on Campus to expand to schools on the East Coast. “People are much more eager to join student groups and get involved there,” he said. “Our model is easy to replicate. The constitution is easy to duplicate, using very general terms.”
Freig stressed that, within both groups, members do not “agree on everything, [but] we don’t really need to, to have a dialogue. We discuss difficult topics and keep talking about it, and hash over the issues until we get to an understanding. That’s what we try to achieve.
“It’s not necessarily an agreement, but an understanding – understanding each other’s narratives. There are some issues we are in too deep with, so we have one meeting after another, trying to get the other person to understand. If you don’t understand where the other person’s coming from, you won’t ever get over being at odds with one another. We still have work to do.”
Howard Morry added, “One of the great gifts of this group is that it gives you a chance to explain things more than once. In this group, we approach issues in different ways. Over time, listening to each other, there’s an understanding with some members, but not with others.
“I’ll tell you that the happiest moment I think I’ve had is when I’ve said something the 16th time over a two-year period, and I had one of the members come up to me and say, ‘Howard, you just changed my life.’”
Both groups hope to inspire the broader Canadian population with how well people – not only Arabs and Jews – can get along by speaking to each other respectfully, not jumping the gun, and not just trying to be right. They see their groups as a learning tool for life, teaching how to get along with others and to build trust.
“Our intention is to extend throughout Canada and then maybe we will inspire people in the Middle East,” said Freig.
Co-chair Morry added, “While we want there to be peace, our group is focused on Canadian Jews and Arabs.… We were concerned when we first started, not wanting to become like Europe. There was a lot more violence and disagreement and no dialogue at all.
“The idea is that when you get dialogue amongst the people who’ve chosen to live in Canada, over time, it will hopefully influence the rest [of the world].”
Here’s a scenario to consider: What if Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu came to the Knesset with a peace accord, approved by all its neighbors, that provided for the cessation of war, the recognition of the state of Israel, land swaps to create coherent borders and the dismantling of settlements?
What if Netanyahu said the final decision on the agreement would be up to the Knesset and he would remain on the sidelines, campaigning neither for nor against the agreement? Would the Knesset endorse the deal?
At first blush, such a scenario sounds farfetched, it could never happen. But, 35 years ago, that is exactly what occurred.
Former prime minister Menachem Begin came to the Knesset with a peace agreement with Egypt. He was reluctant to abandon settlements in the Sinai, but he let members of the Knesset vote on the agreement and did not campaign against it. They endorsed the deal.
The 1979 Camp David Accords proved to be more durable than many expected, surviving the assassination of Egyptian president Anwar Sadat, the Lebanon war, the Gaza conflicts and the Arab Spring. Also, the accord laid the foundation for an agreement with Jordan that is now marking its 20th anniversary.
In Thirteen Days in September: Carter, Begin and Sadat at Camp David (Alfred A. Knopf, 2014), New Yorker staff writer and Pulitzer Prize-winner Lawrence Wright goes back to the difficult negotiations in September 1978 that led to the reluctant handshake between Sadat and Begin, and the signing of the accord on the White House lawn in March 1979.
U.S. president Jimmy Carter brought the Egyptian president and the Israeli prime minister together after Sadat took the first courageous step toward peace – a visit to Jerusalem in 1977. The three leaders and some of their most senior aides met at Camp David, a secluded country retreat about 100 kilometres outside Washington, D.C. They stayed for almost two weeks, stepping away from the whirlwind of day-to-day events to focus exclusively on a framework for peace.
A playwright and screenwriter, Wright effectively recreates the moments of high drama during the talks, weaving personal histories, sacred mythologies and past events into a detailed account of the bare-knuckle bargaining session. He also fleshes out the secondary characters, the members of the Israeli, Egyptian and U.S. bargaining teams who played a role in reaching an agreement. In the acknowledgements, Wright says he initially wrote a play about the negotiation, but he could not squeeze all the interesting characters into a 90-minute play.
The evocative portrayal of Moshe Dayan – the Israeli-born warrior who came to personify the country’s most spectacular military accomplishment in 1967 as well as its most significant loss in 1973 – is especially memorable. Dayan is described alternately as a cold-blooded, calculating fighter and the government’s most creative thinker in pursuit of peace.
The book offers a rare glimpse inside the world of high-pressure international negotiations and sheds light on the difficult relationship that Carter continues to have with Israel. That alone would make the book worthwhile. Yet Thirteen Days is more than just an historical account. Delving into how the Camp David Accords were reached inevitably fires up the imagination to think about what is possible.
Could these achievements ever be repeated again?
Wright shines a spotlight on some extraordinary aspects of the negotiations. The U.S. president, who was prepared to dedicate an inordinate amount of time to grappling with the competing interests in the Middle East, had come to the table with little more than a biblical understanding of the issues and virtually no experience in foreign policy. Yet, he shared with the Egyptian president a similar upbringing, religious devotion and commitment to service in the military. An easy rapport evolved between the two men.
Carter had a more difficult time finding a personal connection with Begin, who was scarred by the Holocaust and hardened by his experiences fighting British authorities in Palestine before the establishment of the state.
The isolation of Camp David allowed negotiators to work creatively and take risks that might not have been ventured in the public eye, Wright writes. But being forced together also had negative consequences. The intimacy at times fed hostility, rather than creating trust, and almost torpedoed the talks.
The process of negotiating, ridded with cultural misunderstandings and political miscalculations, was particularly challenging. Sadat and Begin had significantly different approaches to the talks. Sadat came with an agenda of unrealistic demands, but was willing to compromise. Begin came to listen and react. For several days, he adamantly refused to concede anything.
In his naïveté, Carter expected the two warring sides to reach an accord on their own. His opening gambit was to just bring the two sides together and step back. He assumed they would resolve their historic differences once they met and shared their history, their suffering and their dreams. How wrong he was.
Their response at critical moments was a study in contrasts. Where Sadat, a visionary, would become emotional when his idealism was challenged, Begin would become colder and more analytical. Begin kept his eye on details, meticulously dissecting every nuance in anticipation of what could be lurking around the corner. “Both desired peace,” recalled Ezer Weizman, who was Israel’s defence minister at the time. “But Sadat wanted to take it by storm and Begin preferred to creep forward inch by inch.”
Carter eventually realized he had to take the lead. But it was not until the sixth day of negotiations that he introduced a framework for peace that was to be the springboard for negotiated compromises and a final deal.
Despite the hurdles, somewhere there was magic. They reached an agreement.
Wright suggests that domestic political considerations played a significant role. The political cost for all three leaders increased as the negotiations stretched on. Carter, who staked his reputation on bringing the conflict to an end, threatened to break relations with Sadat or Begin if either leader walked away. The threats kept the two wily politicians at the table, despite their personal animosities.
Another pivotal issue was how the three leaders responded to matters related to the Palestinians. Sadat was their self-appointed representative at the talks. But, at a crucial moment, he pushed their interests aside. It was a decision that cost him his life. At the time, however, the prospect of regaining full sovereignty over the Sinai Peninsula was just too tantalizing; leaving the Palestinians on the sidelines enabled the accords to be signed.
Wright observes that there has not been a single violation of the terms of agreement, but he leaves the impression that the Camp David Accords offer little to guide those now searching for more peace. The accords have saved lives and defused tensions in a volatile neighborhood, but the agreement appears to be a unique set of circumstances in history at a time of powerful personalities that probably will not be replicated in our times.
Media consultant Robert Matas, a former Globe and Mail journalist, still reads books. Thirteen Days in September is available at the Isaac Waldman Jewish Public Library. To reserve it, or any other book, call 604-257-5181 or email [email protected]. To view the catalogue, visit jccgv.com and click on Isaac Waldman Library.
Does Palestine exist? A blogger on the often-provocative website JewsNews doesn’t think so. A package of dates marked “Palestine” must be “magic,” he says, since there’s no such country. And this echoes Moshe Arens’ trotting out of the old canard that Palestine doesn’t exist, but Jordan – the real Palestinian state – already does.
There are at least two issues at stake for Israelis: legitimacy and security. Yet a closer look reveals that neither concern is quite what it seems.
Part of the reason that many Jews have been allergic to the word Palestine is that it has long been used to negate the legitimacy of Israel. In this view, the land between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River (or west of that, to the Green Line, depending on one’s view) is like a blue and white transparent film revealing a red, white and green film, containing a different narrative beneath. Since time is linear and space is finite, there seems to be room for only one people and one narrative on that tiny slice of Middle East territory. One cannot reverse the flow of the sands of time. Israel exists, so Palestine, the logic goes, cannot.
But, surprise! Those who would wish to roll back history and replace Israel with Palestine, as the Palestinian national movement claimed to want to do for decades, have now indicated – at least via their official leaders – that they will be satisfied with a mere 22 percent of the land they originally claimed as theirs. A state of Palestine, in other words, need no longer negate the symbolic right of Israel to exist.
Complicating all of this, though, is the one little word one often hears from Israeli officials, and which every state and all people deserve: security. For example, Bibi Netanyahu, in a video posted Dec. 27 to the Prime Minister of Israel’s Facebook page, contained an address to an enthusiastically nodding U.S. Senator Lindsey Graham.
In the span of a few seconds, Bibi managed to call out Palestinian negotiator Saeb Erekat’s rhetorical hyperbole (Erekat’s comparison of ISIS’s Islamic state desires with Bibi’s Jewish state utterances), while associating the Palestinian negotiator’s “incitement” with the throwing of a firebomb on an Israeli girl in the West Bank. The kicker: the folly of the Palestinians seeking to bring to the United Nations Security Council a proposal – a “diktat” Bibi calls it – containing provisions that “seek to undermine our security.”
The trouble with the security discourse is that, just as stating “there is no Palestine” (or “there is, but it’s in Jordan”), it tends to serve as a rhetorical trump card. We all deserve security but we also know that full and total security is ultimately elusive. Where security threats were traditionally measured solely in terms of territory, now security experts also think in terms of environmental safety, immigration and contagious diseases. There are always new threats on the horizon. All the while, we must recall that conventional security threats never really disappear – for anyone.
On top of all this we must ask whether the little girl who was tragically burned by the act of terrorism in the West Bank was in fact more secure by Israel holding onto that territory and moving its population there. Counterfactual reasoning is never foolproof, but one could certainly make the argument that occupying a hostile population for decades on end is itself a security liability, rather than a security guarantee.
Many have indeed made this argument. More than 100 retired Israeli generals, other high-ranking officers, Mossad officers and police chiefs have even told their prime minister as much, writing a letter last November urging him to “adopt the political-regional approach and begin negotiations with moderate Arab states and with the Palestinians (in the West Bank and in Gaza, too), based on the Saudi-Arab Peace Initiative.”
Obviously Israel wants security. So do the Palestinians. When it comes to the nasty world of international politics, there are no absolute security guarantees – but there are calculable risks. For starters, peace treaties tend to hold better than wishing that an occupied people will sit on their hands for decades. With 59 internal checkpoints in the West Bank, not counting the 40 near the entry to Israel at B’Tselem’s last count, I would even suggest that hoping that your own civilian population can move freely and safely within the occupied territory where an enemy population resides is where the magical thinking really lies.
So, as for that blogger and those dates, I would advise him to take a bite out of the dried fruit. I doubt that those dates are magical, but there is indeed a sweet spot that reveals the best chance for peace between two peoples vying for security and independence. And it doesn’t involve keeping the status quo going, unhappily ever after.
Mira Sucharov is an associate professor of political science at Carleton University. She blogs at Haaretz and the Jewish Daily Forward. A version of this article was originally published on haartez.com.
