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How Mideast Diplomacy Lost Control
By Shibley Telhami
San Jose Mercury, Perspective Section
October 15, 2000
Despite the
best diplomatic efforts of the United States and other
world leaders, the psychology of war is quickly taking
hold in the Middle East. A threshold has been crossed in
the region in the past two weeks that has transformed
the conflict from a political dispute between Israelis
and Palestinians into an increasingly ethnic and
religious conflict that knows no boundaries.
Heart-wrenching
scenes of a Palestinian boy shot in the arms of his father
and of a public lynching of Israeli soldiers have elevated
popular passions to new levels.
As full
escalation becomes a real possibility in this environment,
the stakes for the United States are higher than ever. And
friendly governments in the region are stressed by
overwhelming public passions within their own countries,
intensified by new global media they cannot control.
When religion is
the issue, mosques and synagogues become more powerful
instruments of political mobilization than governments or
political parties. Moderates go on the defensive or allow
fear to overcome rationality. Serious people are
increasingly drawn to the tempting belief that violence is
now a solution, drawing mistaken lessons from previous
episodes, as if the world has remained static.
Only weeks ago,
the Palestinian-Israeli conflict seemed on its way to a
resolution. Although it had become a symbol of the
seemingly intractable disputes in the second half of the
20th century, the conflict, in some important ways, seemed
simple enough: It was largely a political fight between
two national movements. Religion was not at its core.
The Zionist
movement saw itself as a Jewish national movement, intent
on building a Jewish nationalist state, and it was largely
driven by secular ideology. The Palestinian national
movement came of age in the 1960s, at a time when secular
Arab nationalism swept the Middle East and was a
counterweight to political Islam.
At that time, the
conflict seemed intractable because the claims of both
sides over the same piece of land seemed irreconcilable,
not because of deep-rooted religious divisions. Even in
the heyday of Arab rejection of Israel, in the 1950s and
1960s, the Arab nationalists framed their conflict against
``Zionism,'' not against Judaism.
Palestinian-Israeli negotiations were based, at their
core, on reconciling these nationalist claims. And the
agreement that nearly happened at Camp David in July
between Israel and the Palestinians, with President
Clinton mediating, was based on the principle of building
two states, side by side, representing the national
aspirations of each people.
This task was
tough enough, given the pain of half a century of bloody
conflict, and given that any solution was going to
represent a compromise, thus leaving many injustices
unaddressed.
But there was the
issue of Jerusalem. By putting the issue of the ancient
city's political sovereignty on the negotiating table, the
negotiators may have not only risked failure, but also
unleashed forces that transformed the conflict.
It is not a
surprise that at the core of the Jerusalem issue is a
deeply sacred site for both religions, known as the Haram
al-Sharif to Muslims and as the Temple Mount to Jews.
Although the negotiators had little problem agreeing on
how to administer the site functionally, the issue of who
should be the sovereign power over it turned out to be
more than symbolic.
This question
mobilized religious and secularist groups alike and
provoked public passions that threatened government
control.
To be sure, most
Palestinians and Israelis want an end to conflict. But in
the middle of a crisis, moderates -- who have little to
show for moderation and no agreement on the horizon to
defend -- go on the defensive.
If Yasser Arafat
and Ehud Barak had fully anticipated the outcome of Ariel
Sharon's visit, they would probably have done many things
differently. Both need an agreement and cannot afford
losing control. But it is now too late to look back as
they confront a crisis that could turn them both into
losers.
For American
diplomacy to be effective in this charged environment, it
must avoid blaming and accusing the parties at this time.
The aim of U.S. diplomacy should be to avert a disaster
for Arabs and Israelis -- and for Americans.
And don't kid
yourself: The consequence of escalation will be disastrous
for all sides. This is no longer only about peacemaking,
or about possible civil war in Israel, or even about
saving Arabs and Israelis from themselves. It is also
about protecting vital American interests, including
maintaining a secure oil supply at a reasonable price. It
is now a serious national security crisis here, and it
could affect the world economy.
Although the
United States remains the only third party in a position
to help put an end to the cycle of violence, one of the
obstacles is the crisis of confidence between the United
States and the Palestinians. At a time when some Americans
are criticizing President Clinton for remaining
``neutral'' in the current crisis and not siding with
Israel, others, including the Palestinians, increasingly
view the United States as taking Israel's side and are
suspicious that American proposals are ``tricks'' intended
to serve Israel's interests.
U.S. officials
have in fact blamed Arafat for intransigence and have
openly expressed doubts about his commitment to peace. How
can American diplomacy succeed in this environment?
The strategy of
blame makes sense only if one is lining up public opinion
to take sides in case of war. To the extent that the
mission remains the aversion of a bloody escalation, the
immediate American priority is to rebuild trust, not to
further undermine it.
Aside from
arranging a summit with Barak and Arafat, the president
could appoint a personal emissary, someone of stature who
has not been directly involved in these negotiations, who
has the president's ear and trust and who can help the
small and overworked American peace team formulate new
proposals. The emissary's mission should be building
mutual confidence and creating a direct channel with
Arafat. In the Middle East, personal diplomacy is often
more important than state diplomacy.
Once the cycle of
violence is broken and a level of confidence is restored,
the United States must put forth a new, comprehensive
peace plan. The parties will not make concessions on their
own, and even if they could, they cannot afford the time
it will take. The United States now knows, more or less,
what the limits of the parties are and what the terms of
an agreement must be for it to be sold to both sides.
There is a risk
that an American proposal could fail. But it could also
succeed: The peaceful majorities on both sides, now on the
defensive because there is no peace option, could regain
the initiative and have a fighting chance against their
opponents. The alternative is almost certainly
disastrous.
Shibley
Telhami holds the Anwar Sadat Chair for Peace and
Development at the University of Maryland and is a senior
fellow at the Brookings Institution. He wrote this
article for Perspective.
Copyright © 2000,
San Jose Mercury
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