|
So Close, and So Dangerous
By Shibley Telhami
New York Times
September 17, 2000
COLLEGE PARK, MD.--When the
Palestinian Central Council last week postponed, once
again, the decision to unilaterally declare an
independent state, few Palestinians seemed disturbed.
Palestinians, one may conclude, have grown too cynical
to place any faith in what the Palestinian Authority
promises, so they are not holding their breath for the
new deadline, set for mid-November. What makes many of
them take such dates lightly is not merely the long
record of postponements but also the solid belief that
the Palestinians would gain little if they went
independent without first having an agreement with
Israel. After all, the Palestinian Authority controls
only small chunks of territory in the West Bank, and
Israel would have the overwhelming upper hand if
military conflict broke out between them. So how
credible is the November deadline?
The last time the Middle East was in
a similar situation was in 1973. For two years, former
Egyptian President Anwar Sadat had set deadline after
deadline to go to war to regain the Sinai if international
diplomacy didn't accomplish the task peacefully. By
October of '73, few people took him seriously, especially
in the United States. The Sadat doubters believed that
Egypt, and its ally, Syria, could not possibly win a
full-scale war against Israel, and if they tried, their
losses would be prohibitive. When on Oct. 6, Egyptian and
Syrian armies rolled against Israeli forces in a seemingly
suicidal war, their minds, and Israel's, were quickly
changed. Although Egypt and Syria had small hope of
winning outright, they were willing to risk much to change
an unacceptable situation on the ground. For similar
reasons, the Palestinians will probably declare an
independent state before the end of the year, if
negotiations with Israel fall apart.
The muted Palestinian response to the
latest deadline postponement, however, was not simply a
function of cynicism. Palestinians always regarded a
unilateral declaration of statehood as a last resort. The
threat carried more weight when Benjamin Netanyahu was
Israeli prime minister because he was unwilling to grant
Palestinians a viable state through negotiations.
Palestinians believed a unilateral declaration would win
over the support of a sympathetic international community,
thereby changing the status quo and favorably altering
their bargaining position.
When Ehud Barak became prime
minister, international perceptions of Israel changed but
not enough to cost Palestinians international support.
During Barak's first months in office, when he seemed to
move too slowly on peace talks, Palestinian President
Yasser Arafat garnered sufficient international sympathy
to gain promises of support on Palestinian statehood from
the Europeans.
But the failed Camp David summit in
July has created a different outlook. For one thing, the
international community, and especially the U.S., continue
to believe that a peaceful outcome remains possible in the
short term. More important, Barak succeeded, more than any
previous Israeli leader, in highlighting his willingness
to make concessions and in portraying Arafat as less
forthcoming. This was not merely a tactic. Many Israelis
genuinely believed that Arafat went to Camp David not to
make a deal, but to "pocket" Barak's concessions, go home
and then get some more concessions. How else could one
explain the Palestinian leader's refusal even to discuss a
compromise on the Haram al Sharif-Temple Mount area of
Jerusalem, which is holy to both Muslims and Jews?
The Palestinian reaction, ironically,
was the mirror image of the Israelis': It was Arafat who
did most of the conceding at Camp David. In particular, he
gave in on one of their most emotional issues, Jewish
settlements in the West Bank. Palestinians saw little room
for compromise on this issue: All settlements are illegal
and must be removed. But Arafat reportedly accepted the
idea that Israel could incorporate three-quarters of the
settlers and their settlements. On the most passionate
issue to Palestinians--the right of refugees to return to
the homes they left in Israel in 1948--Arafat was
reportedly willing to accommodate Israel's insistence that
most will not return, lest Israel lose its Jewish
majority.
In short, Palestinians genuinely
believed that Arafat went to Camp David to make a deal and
agreed to tough compromises to get one, but once he did,
Barak raised the issue of sovereignty over the Haram al
Sharif-Temple Mount to make it impossible for Arafat to
say yes. Thus, Palestinians were puzzled and distressed
when the U.S. blamed them for the failure at Camp David.
What has become clear since Camp
David is that both sides went to the negotiations to make
a deal, and both moved a great deal closer to making one.
But neither fully understood the other side's religious
and political passions on the issue of Jerusalem. One
benefit of Camp David has been to force Palestinians and
Israelis, for the first time, not only to come to terms
with each other's fears and concerns, but also to confront
their own limits on Jerusalem. Public debate on this issue
should have happened long ago, and it remains unclear
whether such debate at this late hour will provide their
leaders with new room for compromise. But the opportunity
remains real: At no point in the history of the
Palestinian-Israeli conflict have the parties been closer
to an agreement than today.
But the last mile is always the most
difficult. It is even more so when it is lined with mines:
A single violent attack by a fringe group could derail the
march. But if the finish line is not reached in the next
few weeks, two things are nearly certain: Barak will not
survive as prime minister or he will lead a government
with different priorities, and Arafat will declare his
state unilaterally even if the costs are high. The best
hope in reaching a deal soon is knowing that this
alternative is much worse to both sides.
Shibley Telhami Holds the Anwar
Sadat Chair at the University of Maryland and Is a Senior
Fellow at the Brookings Institution
Copyright © 2000,
Los Angeles Times
|
