Compromising Palestine

Compromising Palestine

Compromising Palestine A Guide to Final Status Negotiations Aharon Klieman

New York Columbia University Press The Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies at Tel-Aviv University

Columbia University Press Publishers Since 1893 New York Chichester, West Sussex Copyright © 2000 Aharon Klieman All rights reserved Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Klieman, Aaron S. Compromising Palestine : a guide to final status negotiations / Aharon Klieman. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–231–11788–4 (cloth). — ISBN 0–231–11789–2 (pbk.) 1. Arab–Israeli conflict—1993– —Peace. 2. Palestine— International status. I. Title. DS119.76.K55 1999 956.-05'3—dc21 99–331394 Casebound editions of Columbia University Press books are printed on permanent and durable acid-free paper. Printed in the United States of America c 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 p 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

With respect for Professor William V. O’Brien friend, scholar, believer and in memory of Aharon Yariv above all else, a distinctly Jewish general

Contents

List of Maps

viii

Acknowledgments Introduction

ix

1

PART ONE Palestine, Peacemaking, and Partition Chapter 1. Just Stability, or a Just Peace? 11 Chapter 2. First Choice or Last Resort? 25 Chapter 3. Partition and Palestine 45

PART TWO Facts on the Ground Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter

4. 5. 6. 7.

Within the Confines of Palestine 69 Borders and Security 87 Fair Share: The Economics of Partition Jerusalem 137

115

PART THREE Mapping Palestine Chapter 8. The Elusive Middle Ground 161 Chapter 9. Safe Passages 189 Chapter 10. Toward a Negotiated Territorial Compromise Notes

245

Index 269

221

Maps

1. Palestine and Transjordan Under the British Mandate 43 2. The 1937 Peel Commission Partition Plan 55 3. The 1947 United Nations Plan of Partition 57 4. The 1949 Armistice (“Green”) Line 58 5. The 1967 Cease-Fire Lines 59 6. The Middle East Regional Map 71 7. The West Bank: Map of Jewish Settlement 77 8. The Gaza Strip: Map of Jewish Settlement and Border Crossings 78 9. The Oslo II Map (Areas A, B, and C) 92 10. Jordan River Crossings 94 11. Close Proximities 106 12. The Proposed Gaza Maritime Zone 110 13. Hydrostrategic Map and the Yarmuk River System 131 14. Divided Jerusalem, 1948–1967 140 15. Hebron 1997 156 16. The Original Allon Plan 169 17. The Alpher “Minimalist” Plan for Territorial Compromise 171 18. The 1994 Cairo “Safe Passages” Map 198 19. The 1995 Washington “Safe Passages” Map 199 20. IDF Deployment Map and West Bank Road Grid 213

Acknowledgments

I use this opportunity to express personal appreciation to a number of supportive individuals and institutions, without in any way implicating them either in the analysis or the argument made in the following pages. In the first instance, a debt of thanks is hereby paid to three successive directors of the Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies at Tel-Aviv University: the late Aharon Yariv, Professor Ze’ev Maoz, and Professor Shai Feldman. This acknowledgment extends to the center’s full complement of research associates who read and commented extensively on a first draft of the manuscript, with a special bow this time to Moshe Grundman for his cartographic rescue operation. Second, the Tel-Aviv University Faculty of Social Sciences and the Nahum Goldmann Chair in Diplomacy for support, material and otherwise. So, too, the director and deputy director of the Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace Research, Professor Efraim Ya’ar and Dr. Tamar Hermann, for enabling two interlinked projects on procedural and substantive Middle East peacemaking to run parallel. Early formulations of my central partitionist theme were presented before two discerning academic audiences. In 1995, at the University of Chicago’s P.I.P.E.S. Seminar, co-chaired by Professors Charles Lipson and Duncan Snidal. In 1997, in Dean Tom Farer’s student-faculty seminar at the University of Denver’s Graduate School of International Studies, where I benefited in particular from fruitful discussions with Professors Barry Hughes and Karen Feste and from Yakub Halabi’s timely bibliographic aid. Closer to home, behind this book are a battery of exceptionally devoted research assistants: Avi Muallem, Barry Bristman, Nadav Morag, Hani Zubaida, and Eilon Yavetz. Similarly, I can boast that Professors Abraham Ben-Zvi, Shaul Mishal, and Yossi Shain within my own Political Science Department at Tel-Aviv have been as uncompromising in their probing questions as in their tested collegiality. A penultimate word of appreciation goes to a prized colleague of many years’ standing, Professor Joel Migdal. The final prepublication ac-

x

Acknowledgments

knowledgment is reserved for Columbia University Press staff: Kate Wittenberg, editor in chief, two anonymous reviewers, and Susan Pensak, senior manuscript editor. The last word, however, is truly saved for my wife, Adrian. Let our thirty-fifth anniversary and family attest to a commitment that long predates, and vastly supersedes, any PC computer.

Compromising Palestine

Introduction

Partition, which prescribes dividing contested land in order to avoid or to terminate ethnic conflict, is currently at the center of Middle Eastern peacemaking. And, we hasten to add, not for the first time in the long, singularly bloody and seemingly interminable Arab-Jewish struggle for undivided, unshared mastery over Palestine. Here, in the much promised but overly compromised Holy Land, partition has a past as well as a future. Both its history and its prospects are biased, however. Prejudiced in the former by a legacy of failure and in the latter by inauspicious, nonsupportive elements: geographic and demographic determinants that defy notions of a “clean cut” or a “neat divide” between Arab and Jewish nationalists. Nevertheless, that said, partition’s present and foreseeable centrality is all but assured. This is true irrespective of whether the many schemes now on the table for a permanent Israeli-Palestinian settlement explicitly refer by name to the redistribution and redivision of land as partition, or whether they choose instead to employ any one of a string of slogans and euphemisms masquerading as political and territorial partition. Take your pick from a rich, bewildering array of themes and schemes that form the vocabulary of partition. The fine line in Hebrew between Arab and Jewish “detachment” (hafrada) and “disengagement” (hipardut). “Permanent closure.” “Land for peace.” The “one land for two peoples” thesis . . . the “two-state solution” . . . “separation” as espoused by Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak . . . “territorial compromise” . . . “functional” partition . . . “hard” versus “soft” partition. A unilateral declaration of Palestinian independence, with or without Israel’s consent? The 1996 Beilin-Abu Mazin draft accords? Possibly a modified “Allon plan,” or Binyamin (Benjamin) Netanyahu’s 1997 trial balloon of “autonomy plus, state minus”? Any one of Israel’s “Jordanian,” “Palestinian,” or hyphenated “Jordanian-Palestinian” options? Or perhaps one favors Shimon Peres’s captivating vision of a closely inte-

2

Introduction

grated trilateral “Benelux-like confederation” formed by separate Israeli, Palestinian, and Jordanian units in league together for the collective good? Whatever our individual peace models and preferences, these various proposals have one, perhaps two definite features in common. Being verbal formulas, they are singularly vague. More important, they go beyond unilateral victory, capitulation, and physical elimination of one side by the other in search of a middle ground. They are moderate solutions. They mandate Arab-Jewish compromise; political and territorial compromise. As such, they all embody the irreducible core strategy of dividing, of sharing, and of ultimately cohabiting parts of the contested land. In a word, partition. The reasoning for partition’s renewed prominence in the quest for peace is twofold. First, with the 1993 accords Middle East peacemaking has entered a new and possibly decisive phase. Once this happens in negotiation and bargaining situations, words like “permanent” and “precise” take the place of “intermediate” and “ambiguous.” In their on-again, off-again negotiations Israelis and Palestinians have moved from procedures and technical questions to substantive peace goals and tangible peace maps. Also, second, because territorial partition assumes singular relevance in raging conflicts like Palestine, where the struggle from the very outset has been over land and physical space, which is where it remains at present. By solemnly signing the Oslo declaration of principles these two historic protagonists turned interlocutors, Israelis and Palestinians, have undertaken a profound change in the basic patterns of their relationship. In one fell swoop they have gone from delegitimizing each other to extending mutual recognition. Opting for peace over enmity, they have shifted from uncompromising all-or-nothing positions to political and territorial compromise. And, in choosing to move forward instead of temporizing and remaining locked in place, they have forced us to look beyond making peace to peace building. Not only levels of expectation have been transformed; the very nature and content of the discourse has as well. Only a few short years ago we might still have been terribly impressed by the fact that Israeli and Palestinian interlocutors physically sit in the same room and actually talk to each other (or about each other to American and European go-betweens). After the 1998 Wye plantation summit and the Wye River memorandum, the world is no longer prepared to rest content with pleasantries and handshakes, however; or quite so impressed by press releases reporting meetings as “constructive” and “businesslike.” Why? Not because we have become jaded in our views, but because our sights are raised higher. Perhaps some of us, quite frankly, because of frustration with the entire

Introduction

3

Palestine issue and a desire to see the volatile, unending Mideast conflict struck from the global agenda. Others of us, because of Oslo’s and Wye’s tantalizing effect. After all, both sets of talks offer a fleeting vision of peace and reconciliation as attainable, and within immediate reach. Whatever one’s motive—desperation or inspiration—peace enthusiasts sense that after Oslo, and with Israel’s 17 May elections now behind us, there is no turning back. Too much has transpired; also, there is too much at stake. Nor are the set of global, regional, or internal circumstances and the latitude for making compromises likely to improve in the near future. Today, consequently, in lobbying to move the peace process into the final status phase, we have every reason—and right—to insist negotiations between official Israeli and Palestinian representatives be focused and intensive: focused on peace constructs and peace maps; intensive, in moving more quickly from resolving misunderstandings to ratifying understandings and then to carrying them out to the letter of the agreement. Still, for all their importance, the 1993 Oslo accords provided only a mechanism and a format. They did not explicitly provide the solution. The search is now on, therefore, for a definitive end to the interminably long and prohibitively costly Arab-Israeli blood feud. As of 1999 the emphasis in Arab-Israeli conflict resolution has shifted from procedural gambits to substantive constructs, and from so-called constructive ambiguity to drawing lines on a real map. Even though we are forced to concentrate daily on new, interim, often unanticipated and not uniformly encouraging developments, surely it is within our individual and collective capacity to wrestle with the longerterm aspects of the peacemaking process. Where is it heading? Where should it be going? What will need to be done, or avoided, after the peace agreement goes into effect? Statesmen, government and ministry officials, conflict management experts, students, academics, and lay persons—each of us is finally being forced by the Israeli-Palestinian peace process to face questions so basic that they challenge our most personal individual philosophies and fundamental political beliefs. Questions so controversial as well as tangled and complex for peacemakers that they have been postponed until now. But, hopefully, not for much longer. Must all international problems have a solution? Do all wars necessarily end? Are we therefore about to give thanks in 1999 . . . perhaps by the year 2000 or at the latest 2001 . . . for a halt, at long last, to unrelenting strife in the Holy Land? But, if so, how high a price are each of us (Israelis, Palestinians, their

4

Introduction

respective Jewish and Arab backers at a safer distance removed, an onlooking world audience) actually prepared to pay for a peaceful settlement? Let there be no misapprehensions. Without painful concessions by all the parties directly and even indirectly concerned this historic clash of wills between Arab nationalism and Jewish nationalism could just possibly endure as a tragic exception. An exception to the premise of universal conflict termination (the “all wars must end” postulate). And an exception to the renewed premillennial drive in world affairs aimed at resolving outstanding disputes like Northern Ireland and Bosnia by pacific means and through concerted international pressure. Again, there is no room for misreading the severity of the objective situation in the Holy Land. This is no ordinary squabble or blackboard exercise in conflict resolution. We are talking here about a modern Hundred Years’ War between Arab and Jew that has raged on for the better part of this century. A bloody altercation, which thus far has managed to defy every effort imaginable at reconciliation, thereby combining the worst features of both “enduring rivalries” and “recurring conflicts.”1 But also one that, its hallmark features aside, offers invaluable lessons and insights into the dynamics of dispute settlement in general. Which also means, in turn, that this particular quarrel (also commonly referred to as the perennial “Palestine problem” and the permanent “Mideast crisis”) has, if anything, been overstudied and overanalyzed. What the current situation really begs for are less backgrounders and historical perspectives than concrete answers. Practicable, workable solutions are needed yet are in short supply. For there is no perfect endgame or “exit strategy” for Palestine; only painful compromises. Foremost: territorial compromise. To the above battery of dilemmas and political-philosophical questions one more specific question now needs to be added. How does the reader respond associatively to the very mention of partition? Does it suggest something sinister and unjust? Is it nothing more than a cynical, shortterm, and ultimately ineffective expedient? Or, alternatively, something consistent with the spirit of fair share and fair division? For that matter, as long as we are playing word politics, might territorial compromise— substituting for partition—strike a different, less discordant note? Considering less cogent, less appealing, or entirely unrealistic options, and daring to look ahead to the final act of Arab-Israeli peacemaking, this book poses the thesis of partition’s inescapability. Under prevailing conditions some model for reapportioning and repartitioning Palestine represents historical and diplomatic inevitability.

Introduction

5

Land sharing becomes a necessity because there is no other way out of the mystifying maze that is Israel/Palestine. Consequently, I shall be arguing that inasmuch as time and patience are required to bring peace to Palestine, the partitionist strategy of dividing land through political and territorial compromise is going to figure in all peacemaking efforts. The other part of my thesis underlines that the most nationalistic Israeli and Palestinian separatists can hope for under the jumbled circumstances prevailing today is “partition plus.” Meaning the notion of political distinctiveness moderated by, and combined with, degrees of integration and coordination. It would be the height of presumption for anyone to step forward so late in the Palestine struggle with a new vision and an original formula for peace. Especially when so many others—a veritable gallery of “the best and the brightest” in the arts of diplomacy and peacemaking—have tried, and failed. Neither am I as an academic responsible for or equipped to enter into the operational details or myriad technical aspects involved in delineating precise boundaries. Therefore, in making this argument for partition’s guaranteed prominence my intention is not to preempt the official negotiators—only to goad them, and their circle of attending critics, scholars, and commentators, into confronting the endgame sooner rather than at the very last moment. Nor, again, is my role that of advocate for a particular set of specific detailed peace arrangements. More than fifty years of studying, teaching, researching, living, and arguing the Palestine problem have taught me better. Rather, by investigating specific peace issues, divergent positions, and, literally, down-to-earth solutions, I intend to show the complexities awaiting any attempt at converting the partition principle into practice, even though partition may well be the only way out for Israelis and Palestinians. This extended essay is put forth as a companion guide to the permanent status negotiations that already are badly behind schedule but nevertheless formally underway. My focus and research design are therefore pitched at the intermediate level: between broad general principles masquerading as grand theory and, at the other extreme, operational map drawing. By the same token, my time frame goes well beyond May 4, 1999, or any other arbitrary date or marker along the way to a peace settlement, looking to the settlement itself. In this way the following pages should provide a useful reference point whichever one of the two possible eventualities does actually result: negotiating success or negotiating failure. In the former, best-case scenario, should the diplomatic process begun at Oslo in 1993 succeed at some point in the future, it will be because Is-

6

Introduction

raeli and Palestinian leaders by then will have concurred in any one of the partition-based variants, converting it into a far-reaching political compromise. If so, then this primer on the territorial dimension of the final status talks goes well beyond the bounds of an academic nonpolicy paper. On the other hand, past performance cautions that peace efforts can just as easily miscarry. With Israelis and Palestinians united as one in fiercely refusing to give ground (both literally and figuratively), the road to an agreed repartition is paved with bad intentions. Just as the road itself is obstructed with countless ruts and potholes in the form of legitimate sentimental, economic, security, and other concerns. For this reason it is altogether conceivable that the directly concerned parties may find no single form or expression of territorial compromise acceptable—or workable. In that worse-case scenario, even though reduced to a purely “academic” study in the sense of being antiquated and passed over, this paper unfortunately will have provided the reader with as compelling a set of reasons and explanations as any for the lamentable failure, yet again, of Arab-Israel reconciliation. Especially at the present moment, however, and without prejudice to the outcome, the partition-for-Palestine prescription merits close scrutiny at several levels. First, deep within the Israeli polity, itself sharply divided over exactly where to retain, divide, yield, or exchange territory. Likewise, in the Palestinian national movement, where the question is more whether rather than where to compromise on land. Second, across the bargaining table: in the spasmodic official bilateral negotiations between the two territorial claimants and hence would-be partitionists: Israel and the Palestinian National Authority. The territorial compromise principle is now intimately part of the permanent status talks, clearly establishing the direct linkage between Palestine, partition, and peacemaking. Third, along the sidelines: among outside observers, including foreign governments, media commentators, the international academic community, and interested third parties in the United States and at the United Nations. It is here, in each of these three different public domains, that partition’s controversial nature and divisive influence are manifestly to be felt. Indeed, what has always blunted rather than aided in sharpening political discourse over partition is the extreme lack of precision in our usage of the term itself—as a concept, as a sketchy blueprint, or as a specific policy course of action. In the words of Yossi Beilin, one of the chief architects of the Oslo accords, Arabs and Israelis “are speaking more or less about the same so-

Introduction

7

lution. Despite using other words, other symbols, we know more or less what the solution will be.”2 One assumes the inclusive “we” refers to all three of the above-mentioned levels of analysis and discussion. Again, the two official sides squared off against each other across the bargaining table, but also among the different schools of thought and political factions within each respective camp, because Arabs and Jews, Israelis and Palestinians are not monolithic and do not necessarily speak with one voice. Not to be left out are those countless outsiders and well-wishers anxious to see this latest diplomatic effort eventuate in a real, lasting Middle East peace. They, too, are welcomed under Beilin’s canopy of general consensus. Peace, after all, is the great unifier. Unfortunately, I must disagree. Because, leaving everyone else out for the moment, Israelis and Palestinians are in fact poles apart. As the postOslo posturing and excruciating negotiations fully and readily confirm, even following the Wye River memorandum, we are not in full agreement about what the permanent status solution will be or should be. And nothing succeeds in dividing us quite so much as efforts at interpreting partition’s exact meaning. Why? Principally, because there is a difference, a profound difference, between “partition” and “territorial compromise” and between “territorial compromise” and “land for peace.” Ambiguity therefore no longer really serves the cause of peace. “More or less” is no longer good enough. For far too long we have gotten away with leaving peace and the precise terms of peace for the future . . . when conditions are ripe . . . not before attitudes have changed . . . only when the general situation is more conducive . . . until such time as success is assured. Lack of a precise, agreed upon exit strategy has been a consistently troubling omission in Middle East peace efforts. It has consistently plagued implementation of the Oslo and Wye agreements. Now that focusing on the hypothetical permanent status is no longer premature, this becomes a glaring omission. The time for confronting peace is close at hand. That we have already overshot and gone beyond the May 1999 deadline set for finalizing the Madrid-Oslo peace process merely adds to the sense of immediacy by intensifying the inquiry into the architecture of an Israeli-Palestinian peace. My concern is not with the merits and necessity for peace. This much ought to be patently self-evident. Nor with dates, deadlines, or time tables. Rather, in this book I am raising two questions: (1) the meaning and substance of peace, and (2) the price it must inevitably extract—politically and territorially—from all parties concerned. Because this is not a

8

Introduction

running commentary on the pre-Oslo and Oslo phases, or the post-Oslo and Wye interim talks, but a consideration of the issues and dynamics likely to dominate the final round of permanent status negotiations, what most interests me is not “Gaza-Jericho first” but what comes afterward. Still more specific: What comes last when the dividing line needs to be penciled in between Israelis and Palestinians, between an Israel and a Palestine? The operative question is whether a peace map based upon territorial compromise can be drawn between minimal Israeli and Palestinian objectives. Today we are compelled not only to clarify our intentions but to define our peace terms. Going beyond whether or not there ought to be a Palestinian state—the question seems all but moot by now—this book poses an entirely different set of practical issues: that state’s exact location and boundaries; how large a state; its relations with Israel and Jordan respectively; and what it will mean for Israel to have Palestinian neighbors to the east . . . and to the west. On this point I entirely agree with Professor Edward Said that what is now needed is “a discipline of detail”3—one yielding counterstrategies and countermaps. Then, and only then, will we have a better feel for the true prospects of lasting peace. In effect, this study calls for going beyond catchwords and slogans while yet stopping short of tabling minutely detailed and elaborate schemes that, in any case, are best left to the official negotiating parties themselves. A durable peace between the two communities resident in the Holy Land is arguably the world community’s largest piece of unfinished business in its war against deadly conflicts. Viewed in broad, metahistorical terms, we may very well be witnessing at the present moment the final momentous chapter in the long and unbearably tragic struggle for Jewish, and Arab, self-determination, vindication, and—above all—land possession. Innocent bystander, distant observer, and direct participant alike: we are all permitted the fervent wish that this forthcoming chapter be sealed in ink rather than blood. Thus motivated, this monograph of reflections on partition hopes to contribute to the quality of analysis at each level of debate as Israeli-PLO conflict resolution enters the critical countdown after May 1999 and the crafting of a detailed peace blueprint. On the ground and not only on paper. The confining, inhospitable ground of geographic, demographic, historic Palestine.

PART ONE

Palestine, Peacemaking, and Partition

Chapter 1

Just Stability, or a Just Peace?

I can feel it in my bones that there’s an answer out there if you can only find it. —American secretary of state George Shultz (April 3, 1988)

The term ripeness has gained tremendous currency among students and practitioners of international conflict resolution. This wide acceptance doubtless traces in the first instance to the commonsense logic behind the idea, and to its very simplicity, but also to an awareness among researchers that the causes of hostility have been overemphasized: why wars start rather than why, how, and when they end—or can be induced to end. The conflict termination process itself demands further investigation. In particular, those terms of settlement that make termination possible as well as the kinds of outcomes that can be anticipated. What, for example, determines success or failure in peacemaking? Why do formal peace pacts take hold and stick in some cases and break down in others, sometimes unraveling almost the next day? Which formulas tend to work best? Which are the most durable? Conflicts Ripe for Resolution In essence, the theory of ripeness claims that in negotiating, especially in actually resolving political disputes, we have the capacity to engineer diplomatic breakthroughs. Breakthroughs as genuine as they are dramatic, based upon the existence, or nonexistence, of readily identifiable preconditions.1 I. William Zartman argues that a conflict is ripe for resolution when it becomes a “hurting stalemate” for both antagonists.2 Fen Osler Hampson is willing to settle for “a level playing field.”3 Other scholars prefer to emphasize the positive by stipulating a convergence of expectations or by keynoting the availability of incentives and inducements.4

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Palestine, Peacemaking, and Partition

Popularity aside, the general notion of ripeness still lacks precision. Whether from the standpoint of its analytical rigor, its predictive powers, or, for that matter, its political utility, it is not an easy concept to operationalize. Richard Haass, an early proponent of the ripeness school of conflict resolution, postulates four essentials to major diplomatic progress: a shared perception of either the need or the desirability for an accord, the readiness of both parties to compromise, their domestic enforcement capabilities, and a mutually acceptable approach or process.5 While certainly a step in the direction of making the ripe-unripe distinction more concrete, nevertheless, Haass’s criteria still remain too broad. International statesmen, also those already sensitized through years of experience to the critical importance of timing, would heartily welcome guidance from scholars. Most particularly, first, in gauging the preferred stage of fighting (or bargaining) when the timely application of concerted diplomatic leverage is going to have the most telling effect upon the outcome of the quarrel and, then, within that given stage, the precise moment for acting and intervening. Regrettably, these specific signposts for distinguishing an optimal moment of true ripeness from prematuration and, on the other hand, postripeness, remain unclear. And, in the abiding absence of such markers, the great majority of contemporary regional and interstate disputes, as well as internal ethnic and intercommunal ones, continues to yield the bitter fruits of elusive peace. Missed opportunities either because seized upon too early or too late. Equally important is a second distinction: between merely suspending or deferring a lethal dispute, and ending it definitively—between, in short, conflict management and dispute settlement or conflict resolution. To truly qualify for the latter category, a commitment by an outside third party or set of intermediaries must go considerably beyond addressing only a single aspect or dimension of the larger dispute. So, too, must that commitment, once made, refuse to settle for stopgaps and quick fixes that so often pass for diplomatic window dressing. It has got to aim at answering all outstanding differences. Add two further criteria. A terminated conflict and a durable peace cannot be artificially hastened. Just as, strictly speaking, it is not advisable that the terms of settlement be coerced or imposed—whether by one adversary on the other or by a third party on both. For these reasons, the maximalist goal—conflict resolution—stands apart: qualitatively different and extremely rare. Far more common, and

Just Stability, or a Just Peace?

13

readily (some might say, all too conveniently) available to would-be peacemakers, is an otherwise impressive sliding scale of juridical, diplomatic, and humanitarian half-measures ratcheting upwards from momentary cease-fires and improvised truces to more ambitious and semipermanent interim agreements like armistice, separation of forces, and nonbelligerency. Whatever may be said for each of these “regimes,” they are in fact essentially short-term “neither war, nor peace” palliatives concentrated at the lower spectrum of peacemaking. They focus above all on the continued absence of armed hostilities, and for as long as possible. This is not to gainsay any of these efforts or to disparage such partial gains as are achieved through them. Indeed, many respected analysts, possibly exhibiting a heightened sense of realism, are perfectly content to live with containing interethnic and other disputes, what Fearon and Laitin refer to as “cauterizing.”6 Rather, the aim at the outset of this study is to insist upon differentiation. Distinguishing between what scholars contrast as “negative peace”— the prevention, cessation, or absence of war or hostilities in general—and “positive peace”—the elimination of the underlying structural causes and conditions that gave rise to the violent conflict in the first place. Stability must never be confused with peace. Most emphatically, the two are not synonymous. Whether applied to the Middle East, or any other international trouble spot, peace and stability profoundly differ from each other in the respective degree of political commitment and resolve and, hence, again, of conflict resolution as opposed to “merely” or “simply” moderating and ameliorating lethal conflicts. Judged by this strict twofold standard of (a) timing and (b) intent, it is more readily understandable why the diplomatic record discloses far fewer genuine peace breakthroughs than ad hoc arrangements, more false starts than finish lines. Also, why too many Nobel prizes for promoting peace have been ceremoniously awarded prematurely. A useful starting point, therefore, is to note what ripeness is not. Druckman and Mitchell observe with admirable conciseness that international conflicts persist unresolved due to “an unwillingness to arrive at solutions acceptable to all the disputing parties and their constituencies.”7 Albeit couched in negative, dysfunctional terms, their statement highlights certain key variables. Deconstructed, “unwillingness” clues us to a poisoned atmosphere marked by intransigence (the opposite of conciliation and compromise) among the “disputing,” highly contentious parties, with “all” signifying an arbitrary, indeterminate number of them. Failure to reach consensus on “solutions” that are “acceptable” applies,

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Palestine, Peacemaking, and Partition

in turn, to substance, i.e. the absence of a peaceful exit strategy; whereas “arriv[ing] at” alludes, in the last instance, to technique—an as yet unfinished and possibly unsatisfactory peacemaking process. These shortcomings might just as easily be turned around to underscore their presence rather than their absence. So that heading the peacemaker’s agenda will be (a) building confidence, (b) compromising goals, (c) ranking the parties concerned, (d) processing peace, (e) yet packaging the peace as well. Once rephrased into positive terms, the above sentence in fact encapsulates the essential ingredients for a paradigm of ripeness. Five Steps to a Diplomatic Breakthrough Peacemaking is both a matter of consecutive phases and of controlling for variables. These latter factors intrude in and throughout each of the successive phases, from prenegotiation to what former UN SecretaryGeneral Boutros Boutros Ghali was fond of calling, and right in stressing, “post-conflict peace building,” otherwise known as normalization of relations. Moreover, any of the several variables can exercise either a positive or a negative influence at each equally sensitive and delicate stage. Building upon the work of Haass, Zartman, and others, when reduced to essentials, the war-ripeness-peace correlate, and with it the conflict termination process, can now be seen as really a function of five determinants. First and second, the identity and cultural profile of the belligerents and their respective interests, objectives, and capabilities. Third, the climate prevailing at any particular moment, as affected by self-perceptions as well as the principals’ attitudes toward each other. Fourth, the range of bargaining procedures, “good offices,” and negotiating “tracks” at their disposal. Plus, fifth, the repertoire of final status peace solutions. It is also important to appreciate that these variables are interactive as well as interdependent. Which is another way of saying that all five are equally important. A composite theory of ripeness insists that if the warring sides are to move from situations of pure conflict (the pole of enmity) toward pacific dispute settlement followed by normalization (the pole of amity),8 major adjustments ought to occur, by right, in each and every one of the five categories if not simultaneously, then at least cumulatively, and in order to create that optimal moment of exquisite diplomatic full-bodied ripeness. Without prejudice to the exact sequence by which each piece of the puzzle is put into place, in the end such transformations involve:

Just Stability, or a Just Peace?

15

Redefining Core Goals Genuine progress is possible only when authoritative leaders in the respective camps show themselves capable of acting rationally, and actually demonstrate this pragmatic behavior by acknowledging limits to the politically possible. Above all, there has got to be the readiness to make concessions. Need we add that in the instance of Palestine, where for some the ideological is indistinguishable from the theological, as painful as making allowances to one’s adversary may be, even more delicate and embarrassing for the true believer to swallow, and rationalize to the faithful, are adjustments in one’s own ideology. Nonetheless, this admittedly difficult and often bitter learning process involves substituting realism for dogmatism, accepting one’s own deficiencies, and adapting to real-world constraints. It is best tested if it leads, in turn, to rescaling core goals. Here each antagonist needs to be prodded into resetting partisan priorities and encouraged to move from entrenched positions, maximum expected returns, and insistence upon unilateral victory (zero-sum) to mutual accommodation (nonzero-sum) and compromise. Because it is compromise that marks the key difference between what is desirable and what, in the end—or at least for now, is attainable. Breaching, Then Lowering Psychological Barriers Parallel efforts similarly must be made at improving the political and negotiating atmosphere. For starters, if only because poor or nonexistent communication only heightens the likelihood of misinformation, miscalculation, error, and fiasco—a lesson branded on our consciousness by the military annals of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Change at the attitudinal level requires substituting deeply ingrained patterns of hostility and categorical denial of “the other” as implacable foe and archenemy. For some experts a change of basic dispositions and an overall improved climate must precede genuine diplomatic movement, whereas others tend to see a change of heart among peoples in conflict as the necessary and welcome derivative of such diplomatic initiatives. For both schools of thought Anwar Sadat’s journey to Jerusalem in 1977 qualifies as the exceptional grand gesture transforming relationships in one bold stroke. For the most part, however, such change is better achieved through a controlled sequence of iterated symbolic goodwill gestures and tit-for-tat concessions. Though certainly far less dramatic, prisoner-of-war exchanges, conciliatory statements, or any comparable steps come under the recommended larger category of graduated confidence-building measures that aim at replacing long-standing distrust with

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Palestine, Peacemaking, and Partition

reciprocal trust. Establishing this basic willingness to cooperate is, to be sure, merely a prelude to the respective sides actually sitting down to face each other across the conference table in order to intensify the give-andtake process now underway. Reaching Procedural Agreement Nor is any real movement possible in getting beyond media posturing and stylized prenegotiation without first gaining a working consensus on the so-called modalities and technical questions inherent in any process of negotiation. This is what “talking about talking” is all about. Place of venue? Level of representation? Civilian or military delegations? Secret meetings in the back channel or public sessions? Face-to-face or brokered proximity talks? Bilateral or multilateral? Step-by-step versus comprehensive? Single-tiered and strictly political, or employing technical experts in track 2 diplomacy as well? And have we mentioned agenda setting? Lest one assume the more channels the better, let us note that the law of diminishing returns applies here as well. Too many venues operating at one time often results in overload and confusion. This is reflected in the absence of coordination among delegation members, in contradictory messages signaled to the opposite delegation, and at times even in finding inconsistent positions tabled by representatives of one side in the different negotiating forums. Still, the main point is that alternative bargaining formats, but also diplomatic channels, must be inaugurated and then kept open for facilitating ongoing communication, meaningful dialogue, and more regularized negotiation. Taking a Second Look at the Alignment of Players There is considerable merit in pausing (preferably at the outset, of course, and prior to the launching of the high-stakes diplomatic mission) to reconsider for a moment (a) the identity, (b) the rank order, and (c) the vested interests of participating first, second, and third parties. Such periodic reassessments of the players are advisable particularly in protracted conflicts that have gone through any number of evolutionary changes and those that have expanded into regional multiactor contests. Four distinctions or categories come to mind: (1) the level of preoccupation and overriding concern with what is at stake, (2) the extent of past or present involvement, (3) degrees of moderation, measurable by one’s willingness to compromise, and (4) how critical—indeed, indispensable—any particular player is for either warmaking or peacemaking. Taking stock of the dramatis personae in itself can make an important contribution toward ripeness and clarity, for there is bound to be a degree

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17

of confusion if not recrimination over whose claims have priority the longer the dispute and the greater the number of self-professed interested and intervening sides that, along the way, have somehow been able to get themselves, so to speak, into the act. Be they states, governments, prominent individuals, national movements, or transnational organizations, each has an ax to grind and an agenda to promote by proclaiming a stake in the outcome and a right to participate in its determination. International peacemaking, and especially international peace conferences, represent political high drama; therefore even bit players will be anything but reticent in vying for a larger role and in seeking greater prominence on an increasingly crowded stage. All the more imperative that we be clear about the cast of characters—to mix metaphors, the scorecard. Clarity, similarly, about each one’s designated role assignment, extending from passive observer through convenor, honest broker and intermediary to active facilitator and guarantor. One aspect of this more careful and discriminating hierarchy of actors and their assigned parts is the debate over the wisdom of purposely inviting outside mediators: intervention or interference? Representative of the pro-interventionists, the late Israeli diplomat Gideon Rafael was adamant in insisting, “Experience shows that neither the termination of war nor the initiation of peace is achieved without the energetic engagement of a third party.”9 This categorical viewpoint is invalidated, of course, by the Sadat initiative, by the unbrokered Israeli-Jordanian dialogue, and by the Oslo channel. Perhaps the argument should really center on the nature and degree of third-party involvement. There is no gainsaying, for example, the positive influence of the Norwegians in nurturing the Oslo dialogue. Nevertheless, their major and lasting contribution derives from having served as facilitators rather than in interceding on the more substantive issues or in taking a stand of their own on contentious political questions. The author is partial to direct negotiation for achieving the best results. We Middle Easterners do in fact understand each other and the rules of Middle Eastern negotiating behavior, certainly far better than Europeans or Americans. The job of outsiders ought to be to concentrate on getting Israelis, Arabs, and Palestinians into the same room and to provide positive reinforcement when called upon to do so. I am therefore inclined to take a dimmer view of external mediatory offers as interference—wellintentioned for the most part, but interference nonetheless. Be that as it may, perhaps most crucial to orchestrating a serious peace drive by screening the participants is the ability when called upon to dif-

18

Palestine, Peacemaking, and Partition

ferentiate those purporting to be “directly concerned” parties from those who really are. This latter distinction is easily blurred and sometimes entirely overlooked. Nevertheless, the contrast lies between actors whose commitment is total and whose concerns (legitimacy, sovereignty, security, etc.) qualify as nothing short of vital—and by every right therefore deserve to be assigned absolute highest priority—and, in a separate column, the countless other secondary, less directly concerned third parties. These extend from borderline countries and regional actors to extraregional alliances, global powers and international governmental or nongovernmental organizations. To insist upon clarification in no way negates the right of supporting actors with possibly legitimate concerns to be consulted and even actively engaged or the contribution such outside systemic representatives and actors can make in backing the peace process and its later implementation. Rather, we argue for aligning the concerned parties by degree of direct involvement and the gravity of interests at stake instead of according to political clout, great power status, or institutional affiliation. Terms of Settlement Selecting one key that opens the door to lasting peace becomes the final requisite. Clearly, every peacemaking process has got to have an exit strategy to save it, and those participating in it, from merely “going through the motions.” This mandates the need for an overarching design, a grand peace strategy for getting from here (conflict) to there (peace). If anything, it is hard to exaggerate the importance of the designated “peace construct,” which is nothing short of indispensable. First, these constructs serve as a compass in authoritatively pointing the way out of war traps. Second, as a manual for steering the negotiations in the right direction and toward a final destination. Third, in framing appropriate settlement terms. Fourth, as a guide for drawing the territorial peace map and for delineating peace borders. Fifth, as the blueprint for an entirely new set of economic and other relationships governing normalization in the postsettlement phase. Hence, in a very real sense the construct is itself the solution. What lies at the end of the road is just as important as limiting the number of passengers (the “directly” concerned parties) or the diplomatic roadmap for getting there. Only a clear sense of the outcome—the ultimate destination and exact exit point from the conflict—might prevent negotiation from becoming a sterile exercise, and from breaking down at a later point once impatience sets in. Likewise, frustration, disillusion-

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ment, or travel fatigue resulting from constant motion devoid of any sense of progress or impending arrival. This is particularly the case when the atmosphere remains charged with suspicions of deception and betrayal every step of the way. And especially when one of the adversaries, but possibly both, still cling doggedly to inflated expectations that express themselves in the plenary talks as mutually exclusive objectives. Admirable as they may be, professing to desire a negotiated settlement, longing for peace, and praying for peace are, in themselves, platitudes. So, too, the truism that talking is better than fighting. We do not “arrive at” peace but must drive concertedly toward it. Absent one of these five political determinants and any diplomatic initiative, no matter how wellintentioned, is going to prove singularly exasperating and counterproductive. And what is worse: prejudicial, in the last analysis, to the cause of peace. Testing for Middle East Ripeness This then is a checklist of mandatory conditions for the timely settlement of disputes by peaceful means. This composite is supported by the theoretical literature on conflict resolution and distilled from the cumulative practical experience in recent decades with international peacemaking. It is equally applicable in principle therefore to all outstanding political and international disputes. When next applied to the case-specific Palestine problem and its larger Arab-Israel zone of conflict this line item list of particulars for making ripeness happen underlines the not inconsiderable diplomatic inroads made in the pivotal years 1991–1994 by the Madrid-Oslo peace process. For the better part of this century, in a national rivalry turned bloody quarrel, threatened and actual resort to armed conflict has predominated. Meaningful communication between the respective Arab and Israeli sides—“the best of enemies”—has been absent for the most part. Consequently, hoping to register even modest diplomatic gains, let alone a breakthrough, under such adverse conditions has meant that intellectual creativity as well as diplomatic skills of necessity be targeted almost exclusively at the most basic technical, procedural, and attitudinal dimensions of the conflict.10 Moreover, process-oriented diplomacy, in its focus primarily on the mechanics of negotiation, has long enjoyed a certain cachet and respectability among theorists and Middle East practitioners. They readily subscribe to the “building blocks” incrementalist approach to conflict res-

20

Palestine, Peacemaking, and Partition

olution in general, and Palestine in particular, seeing this as the height of diplomatic prudence. Besides, what with the record of deadlock and derailment so predominant, Arab-Israel peacemaking by its very nature all but dictates working assiduously at the lower levels of peacemaking. Here success is pitched more often than not in minimalist terms like arresting the downward spiral and repairing “crises of confidence.” Well into the 1990s Middle East statecraft could still be safely characterized as “an intense diplomatic busyness that focuses on process and never reaches issues of substance.”11 By mid-decade, however, four of the five core preconditions were closer to fulfillment than ever before. The start of 1993 found Arab and Israeli leaders talking to each other within the Madrid framework. Because this was done in a conciliatory, businesslike atmosphere, around the negotiating table and at a proliferating number of public forums, the first three prerequisites were painstakingly but no less effectively being met. One, removing psychological obstructions. Two, adopting peace and mutual security as the prize to be coveted over total and unconditional victory. Three, pursuing alternative channels for meaningful exchange. Still remaining to be clarified in August 1993 were the last two pieces missing in the puzzle of Middle East ripeness, namely, the principals and the principle. The Oslo declaration supplied the first, although not necessarily the second—at least not explicitly. Israel’s adoption for the first time of a serious Palestinian option featuring mutual recognition and the attendant nurturing of an official direct, ongoing bilateral Israeli-Palestinian dialogue, regardless of how fitful and acrimonious, has profoundly altered the list and hierarchy of players. The cast of leading actors is now clear. The resident Israeli and Palestinian communities, represented by their chosen leaders, are in fact the only two directly concerned parties and, therefore, the two chief negotiating parties. Nor is there really any reverting to former positions such as assuring Palestinian rights by cutting a deal with Jordan as spokesman for the Palestinians or subsuming Palestinian representatives within an all-Arab delegation. Hereafter, barring any total dissolution of the Oslo peace bonds, the focus of academic thought and of creative statesmanship narrows down to the one factor still conspicuously outstanding. It is the unfinished business of a central guiding principle and ordering concept necessary for outlining the terms of future Israeli-Palestinian coexistence. Relative to the other four variables, this question of the indispensable peace construct has gone largely unaddressed. Conventional wisdom on Arab-Israel peacemaking has traditionally favored evasive inaction when-

Just Stability, or a Just Peace?

21

ever, and wherever, the matter of the final terms of settlement is broached. Interestingly, this studied silence finds an echo in the theoretical literature on peacemaking and conflict resolution where the critical importance of peace constructs tends to be downplayed. Indeed, it often goes unmentioned, even in the more extensive and itemized listings of what goes in to making for ripeness. Whether because premature, too contentious, or both, it has been deemed prudent to wrap the essential nature of the final settlement and its geopolitical configuration in layers of constructive ambiguity while deferring their delineation and unveiling to a later, and of course unspecified, stage. The Oslo timetable, by explicitly mandating permanent status talks for May 1996, and agreement by May 1999, presently lends an air of urgency to otherwise desultory academic inquiry, however. Territorial Compromise: Designated Exit Strategy The central thesis underlying the research for this project is straightforward, albeit with one all-important philosophical-political qualification or reservation. Let us assume: (a) “all wars must end” and so, therefore, (b) objectively somewhere there has got to be a prescription for permanent Arab-Israeli peace (a hidden, elusive solution rather than one entirely missing and nonexistent). To the extent that the historic struggle over Palestine is indeed soluble, then, partition is the logical and, at the moment, foremost candidate. It is also arguably the sole hope for some semblance of normalcy for the two peoples inhabiting this pitifully small notch of coveted territory on the eastern fringes of the Mediterranean Sea. Barring an agreed formula for sharing the land by subdividing it, the remaining choices are illstarred. Perpetual strife in an uncompromising winner-take-all situation is one. Or, at the opposite extreme, Israelis and Palestinians mutually waiving nationalist aspirations in favor of extensive Arab-Jewish assimilation and integration that, in cultural and religious terms, must sound offensive and demeaning to some ears, and to others preposterous for being utopian and totally divorced from reality. In which case, we are left with only some form of territorial reshuffling and redistribution that would promote the cause of ethnic and communal disengagement—promote, though not entirely achieve, full separation on account, as we shall see, of the great Arab-Jewish intermix and the existence of nearly one million Israeli Arabs inside Israel proper.

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Palestine, Peacemaking, and Partition

That we arrive at partition only out of necessity and through a process of elimination disqualifying other peace construct candidates is in itself a point worth underscoring. At this late date there is surely nothing particularly uplifting or inspiring about partition. On the one hand, Israeli and Palestinian bedrock nationalist positions all but dictate a separatist partition. In recent years Arab and Jewish majority sentiment, articulated and amply documented in a steady flow of public opinion surveys, powerfully suggests a deep craving for being left alone to develop parallel but separate cultures and economies and— simply put—to be out of each other’s hair. On the other hand, it is just as patently clear that physical, geographic, and demographic conditions (in contrast to the former Czechoslovakia or, conceivably, Cyprus) all but defy a neat territorial separation and ethnic disentanglement—a “clean cut”—short of large-scale population transfer, as did indeed happen in the case of India-Pakistan and also Cyprus. As of 1999 the inhabitants of historic Palestine are united for separation but deeply divided over what separation requires and what it means. This, for the uninitiated, is Israel-Palestine’s malignancy. And herein lies the essence of the Middle East peacemaker’s dilemma when, undiverted and no longer appeased by ambiguity, we turn our attention to fifthdimensional prescriptive peace formulae. These cruelties aside, there is one immediate feature about partition in its Palestinian context that evokes curiosity and commands scholarly attention. I refer to the sheer persistence of the partitionist theme. The chronology of the Palestine conflict over the course of the last sixty years and more confirms my point. Territorial partition’s phoenixlike recurrence and revival are the more remarkable given the fact that offers of partition have been spurned time and again by at least one or more of the principals. Indications are that partition’s long-standing political shortcoming— its categorical rejection by at least one of the directly concerned parties— is about to be corrected, however. To an unprecedented extent official Israeli and Palestinian mainstream positions do give the appearance of being in closer alignment—most decidedly not over the wisdom and justice of partition but on the sheer necessity and immediacy for as clean a “cut” as politically and humanly possible. Alan Dowty puts partition’s present status in correct perspective when he observes, “If expulsion is unthinkable and integration is impossible, logic leads back to partition: to separate, independent (though intertwined) political destinies for Jews and Arabs in the Land of Israel/Palestine.”12

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His formulation captures the essentials: unacceptable extreme solutions; the reasoning behind, and for partition; its previous record (“back to partition”); the incongruous pairing of cooperation, deriving from two peoples being coiled together, with separation and independence; equal sensitivity to the needs and aspirations of both peoples; the spatial, geographic variable. All of which lead to one overriding conclusion: partition. But one that still leaves two critical gaps. Necessarily first, the psychological and political one. Between awareness of the need for parting ways and parting with real estate and the readiness to actually undertake its negotiation and implementation. Even if this gap can satisfactorily be filled in, Arab-Israeli peacemaking dare not ignore the other gap: between the theory and prescription of partition, and the doing of partition. The latter requires screening off the area designated for repartition. Naming and empowering the direct partitionists. Delineating the exact lines of division and degrees of separation. Preparing for each phase in the partitioning sequence. Assessing ahead of time the anticipated consequences of disengagement and fragmentation and planning how to fund the estimated costs of carrying out Palestine’s difficult repartition. Should territorial compromise and dividing Palestine indeed prove to be the thrust of efforts in coming months, in order not to be left behind by the accelerated pace of diplomatic events the partitionist solution of territorial redivision requires prompt but also careful scholarly reconsideration. In addition to enriching the debate currently rejoined over the pros and cons of a territorial settlement in Palestine’s future, the proposed study of partition—its premises, record, praxis, and problematique—also has much wider application. As in the case of Yugoslavia, and in the parallel instance of Czechoslovakia in 1992–93, for example, there are profound lessons to be derived from the Israeli-Palestinian experience. About how to negotiate compromise, about the dynamics of nation building and breakdown, about bifurcation and unification, about the laws of sociopolitical integration and disintegration. In the most immediate, obvious and human sense, the lives of millions of Arabs and Israelis are at stake in the current peacemaking effort— beyond that, the stability of the entire Middle East region. In the larger sense, though, the politics of repartitioning Palestine are about connecting and disconnecting. Separating . . . but separating together. Two selfdetermined states, yet forced to function as a single economic unit and, possibly, even one mutual security regime. Similarly, the ongoing, unfinished process of compromising Palestine will teach us a great deal about

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Palestine, Peacemaking, and Partition

the interplay between nation, state, ethnic community, society, and country and the connection—or perhaps disjunction—today between land, strategic depth, and security, for example. Should unitary, federative, and integrationist models prove inapplicable, then political and social science could be confronted by a politics of balkanization, secession, and fragmentation à la Bosnia at once so divisive, violent, and destabilizing as to make advocacy of territorial partition for Israel/Palestine seem the lesser evil.

Chapter 2

First Choice or Last Resort?

This century’s awkward form of compromise. —C. L. Sulzberger, New York Times columnist, commenting on partition (February 17, 1964)

Let us assume two conditions. Agreement by nationalist adversaries to negotiate their conflict and to bargain together over specific terms of settlement is one necessary given. The second is their signaled willingness to do so on the basis of compromise. These markers established, we are justified in next asking to know what is the designated exit strategy for this final middle-course settlement. When the declared goal is definitively resolving nationalist and intercommunal conflict on the order and magnitude of the Palestine problem, theoretically, precisely how many ideal-type peace paradigms are there to choose from? Surely territorial compromise cannot be the sole candidate. On the contrary; bearing in mind principled U.S. opposition to a partition-based solution for Bosnia, Iraq, Cyprus, or conceivably anywhere else, it is indeed far more commonly regarded as the least desirable of all options. In normative terms, what do we require of prospective peace models? Why, when actually applied, are so few effective in practice, and—what really counts—over the longer haul? For that matter, what determines success or failure in the pacific settlement of such disputes? By asking these end-of-the-negotiating-process questions, we are really going well beyond the “rules of the game” in peacemaking for a look at the “ground rules”—those criteria that are necessary for judging any “permanent status” or “final status” Middle East peace framework, but with particular reference to the partitionist solution.

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Peace Constructs: The Criteria Assuming, of course, agreement on the negotiating agenda, an ideal-type solution has to meet four, possibly five qualifications. Does it, in the first instance, apply to and cover all the issues? If genuine, a peace construct will provide the outer scaffolding under which individual and separate solutions for each of the contentious issues (geographic, demographic, social, economic, political, military, etc.) can then be systematically arranged into an inclusive peace package. Second, the tendered solution ought to have a certain intellectual appeal, besides satisfying the first criterion of comprehensiveness. A proffered peace formula also has to pass the test for logicality. Does it stand to reason? Does it make sense? Is it convincing? By this I mean it should be both rational and parsimonious. At once intelligible and compelling, politically, but even morally so. For if it fails to sufficiently convince and inspire, chances are it will then fail to win the minimum support necessary for adoption as the agreed policy course of action. Logicality, though important, is insufficient in itself. When next applied to a specific conflict, the designated peace construct has got to be convincing on the plane of reality, i.e., directly relevant to facts on the ground. In a word, it must be doable, practicable. But, fourth, in order to be workable in the fullest sense, the said solution must also be freely entered into by the two or more consenting parties. This insistence upon voluntary agreement expressly disqualifies any imposed solution or diktat. Which relates, in turn, to a fifth, and final, stipulation: not an iron-clad guarantee but at least reasonable assurances of finality. Here, the emphasis is on durability, or, in the language of UN Security Council Resolution 242 of November 22, 1967: “a just and lasting peace.” In this sense, again, shorter-term “stability” is not entirely consistent with true conflict “resolution,” where reasonable prospects are sought for normalization in relations between former enemies now turned neighbors. In short, we ask a great deal of peace constructs. That they be at once moral, fair, balanced, and pragmatic. That they be legal, contractual, and derive from compromise. Last, that they be practicable. Small wonder that perfect or ideal-type solutions are so hard to come by, and therefore so rare, in international dispute settlement. Too often a prospective peace construct will satisfy one or more of the conditions but not all of them. For example, although compelling in principle or on paper, a certain proposal might then be judged wholly im-

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27

practical given the complexities and particularities of the actual situation. Similarly, what often strikes the detached outside observer as eminently rational may be unacceptable culturally, emotionally, or politically to the direct participants. Nevertheless, still more surprising than how few meet the grade is the paucity in the number of basic peace strategies contemporary international law and diplomacy are able to offer for negotiating final status settlements. Different types of conflict obviously require different kinds of solutions. Because our concern is restricted to the Israeli-Arab conflict, so is the discussion limited to the single category of intercommunal strife between rival nationalisms inside a defined geopolitical domain, with title to the land itself lying at the heart of the dispute. Peace Constructs: The Menu Conflict studies and peace research really yield a total of only four reductionist models for the adjustment of territorial-based nationalist struggles short of armed conflict ending in unilateral victory or defeat. These are: binationalism, autonomy, the federalist principle—and partition. All four constructs share at least two virtues. They do speak to the possession issue—either in terms of rights or of real estate. And they are compromise solutions. Which means they seek (a) to avert strife among adversarial nationalist forces and ethnic communities, (b) to retrieve a legal as well as practical modus operandi by appealing to whatever little remains of a frayed national consensus, (c) to resolve conflicting territorial imperatives. This commonality aside, what stand out are the major differences between the first three approaches—binationalism, autonomy, federalism— and partition. The former are unitary solutions applicable within a single but fractious country; they are meant to preserve both the state’s sovereign status and its exterior boundary delineation. As Arend Lijphart and others remind us, autonomy, binationalism, and federalism are specifically designed as consociational peace structures for accommodation and intercommunal coexistence between different ethnic, nationalist groupings under a framework of shared sovereignty.1 Edward Said, on the other hand, insists, “There is no such thing as partial independence or limited autonomy. You are either politically independent or you are not.”2 But, then again, in today’s increasingly interdependent marketplace and world, even with formal statehood no one can claim to enjoy full independence in the accepted meaning of political sovereignty.

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This argument over sovereignty’s modern-day value and validity notwithstanding, partition stands in glaring contrast to the alternative constructs by counseling bifurcation of the fragmented society and the no longer functioning state. When applied, partition’s effect is to reproduce sovereignty as well as to divide collective goods and to redraw borders. From one geopolitical unit there emerges an indeterminate number of geopolitical subunits depending upon the scale—grand or narrow—of partition. One can expect to find at least one secessionist state and at least two copartitionist successor states. Multiple entities are also conceivable. French Indochina (1954), for instance; also British-ruled India (1947), which eventually segmented into India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. Two other proximate examples (in one case, proximate chronologically; proximate in historical and geographic relevance in the other case) are the spawning of a half-dozen ostensibly independent Balkan republics in the wake of Yugoslavia’s uncoordinated, therefore messy, breakup during much of the 1990s and, of course, a score and more states, including Palestine and Jordan, carved from the Arab provinces of the former Ottoman Empire before and after 1919. The respective preoccupations are also markedly different. Partition is about entitlement, the others, empowerment. The former concentrates on redistributing territories, people, and resources, while the latter reapportion power and authority. Binationalism, autonomy, and federalism each underscore constitutional compromise (often on a regional, cantonal, or confessional basis), whereas partition rests upon territorial compromise. Put differently, the aforementioned grapple with political claims while finessing the territorial aspect. Not so partition, in that, whatever else, it does at least attempt to answer both the political and the land question. In a word, the contrast is power sharing versus land sharing. Pluralism matched against the opposite goal, or mentality, of ethnic segregation and exclusivity. From this it follows that the other models look for coexistence within the preexisting state and inside its prevailing, established state boundaries. In keeping with the Westphalian principle of sovereign equality, under the partitionist formula peaceful coexistence best finds postpartition expression at the level of interstate relations between newly independent successor states destined to live side by side. This in effect is where Slovakia and the Czech Republic find themselves following their “velvet divorce” parting of the ways in 1993. Similarly, the cluster of three nonpartitionist paradigms are mixed solutions, encouraging a degree of communal and ethnic group separatism at the same time that they would wish to foster cooperation and to en-

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courage integrative forces. Thus, in practice, with but few exceptions, binationalism, limited self-rule, and federalism have not provided permanent remedies. Rather, these traditional frameworks for joint stewardship are, if anything, proving increasingly unsatisfactory and possibly only transitory in today’s world. Partition, on the other hand, is often advertised in ethnic politics as the clean cut. It is meant in theory to be a “pure” solution, one that calls for formal detachment and legal separation with prospects for longer-term permanence. In effect, it takes the nationalist and separatist argument to its logical, even if extreme, conclusion: to each nation a state. In quarrels between ethnic groups insisting upon seeing themselves as “potential nations”3 and hence would-be candidates for statehood, the only realistic prospect for any degree of finality, although far from assured, would seem to lie in an agreed territorial division. Certainly when the only other alternative on the horizon is an imposed, or indiscriminate, bloody partition—“dismemberment” in the most ominous and literal sense. By way of summary, therefore, binationalism, autonomy, and federalism represent a politics of optimism, speaking to solidarity and consolidation, urging the merits of sinking differences and redoubling efforts at living together in renewed harmony. Not so partition—the politics of fragmentation—with its seeming underlying skepticism of divide and quit. But a kind of surgical fragmentation that for all its dislocation and momentary suffering might also stimulate a greater degree of subsequent consolidation and solidarity. Beginning within each of the new and, one assumes, more homogeneous social and political units created by territorial detachment but possibly extending to closer interdependence between the former warring communities. So that pro-partitionists need not necessarily be advocates for abandoning the parties, leaving them to go their separate ways. Rather than the air of pessimism and finality in divide and quit, political and territorial partition actually prescribes something else entirely, and in much longer-range terms: divide and begin again. Beyond these few comparative observations there is little further utility to be had in confining the discussion to an evaluation of the four structures solely in terms of their theoretical premises. Nor in belaboring the many practical defects inherent in each of the first three simply so as to dismiss them out of hand in favor of partition. The point needs to be made that the applicability and, second, the success of these alternative peace models are very much context dependent. The claim has been made that “history records no instance where ethnic

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groups have agreed to share power in a democracy after a large-scale ethnic civil war” and that such wars end “only with a dictatorship that restores order by the knout, or with partition.”4 Modern Lebanon offers an intriguing case to the contrary, although even there a final verdict is still pending. The outcome in each particular case will be determined by the interplay of cultural, situational, and other variables, as twentieth-century comparative and international politics readily confirm.5 What might work for Flemings and Walloons in Belgium or for the Swiss cantons in no way foreshadows the outcome of fragmentation politics in Canada, Czechoslovakia, Iraq, Lebanon, Nigeria, Russia, Spain, or Yugoslavia. Furthermore, cumulative historical experience teaches us that every one of the four stratagems has been tested and found wanting on more than one occasion. With these caveats in mind, the analysis proceeds from here to treat the partitionist construct alone and to then discuss its respective merits and demerits within the narrower confines of the single—but also singular—Arab-Israeli conflict and its attendant peace process. Nevertheless, I shall be arguing that in this instance of “compromising Palestine” the debate over partition is very much colored by three things. Further compounding partition’s mixed fortunes elsewhere (as in Cyprus, India, and Ireland), and its questionable status and mixed reputation more broadly in global affairs, are several previous disillusioning experiments in territorially splitting the Holy Land. Partition and World Politics Partitionism—defined here as the practice of dividing contested lands or contentious peoples—is deeply rooted in diplomatic tradition. Throughout history partition was applied as a function of dynastic rivalries, great power hegemonial struggles, imperialism, and interstate conflict. For this reason, regard for partition, as for its progenitor, the balance of power, is, in the words of Mark Helprin, anything but “the elixir of popularity.”6 Mistakenly thought discredited by the shocking manner of Poland’s dismemberment in the years 1772, 1793, and 1795, partition was long regarded as something of an anachronism in European councils and a word all but deleted from the diplomatic vocabulary. Yet partitioning behavior and its attendant effect of dividing nations, countries, continents, and hemispheres nonetheless persisted throughout the nineteenth century under the guise of “spheres of influence,” “open door” policies, condominium, and the “scramble for Africa.” Consequently, partition survived into the twentieth century, reaching its zenith in the large-scale division of both Germany and Korea in 1945.

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As for contemporary millennial world politics, the partitionist prescription may actually be experiencing something of a revival even as it undergoes redefinition. For the first half of this century territorial partitioning continued in the familiar mode: as a blunt, often brutal mechanism for roughly calibrating competitive imperial and then Great Power drives through the arbitrary splitting of peoples and countries. As previously understood and practiced, partition ran entirely contrary to the anti-imperialism of the Wilsonians and to the principle of national self-determination. Nevertheless, it was given new meaning and reemployed for a while in the reverse process of decolonization. Thus, aside from figuring in efforts at international crisis management, partition for a while became a main theme in efforts by the British in the 1940s and 1950s toward imperial disengagement and the orderly transfer of power.7 Accordingly, Great Britain’s hand can be seen in virtually every instance during the cold war where the East-West power struggle either converged or overlapped with third world independence struggles, and where partition was resorted to, with widely varying degrees of success and/or permanence: Germany and Cyprus. Korea and Indochina. India and Palestine. If you like, “divide and rule” met “divide and quit.” These latter-day politics of partition only added to its previous bad name while amassing further proof of short-term expediency now compounded by failure in one instance after another to provide longer-term stable solutions. Neopartition, by contrast, owes its latter-day rehabilitation and 1990s distinctiveness to considered application of the territorial compensation and sharing principle (and somewhat less objectionably) to situations of intrastate ethnic conflict. While very far from being universally endorsed and enthusiastically promoted, political and territorial compromise are nevertheless widely acknowledged to be one of the precious few conflict resolution formulas worthy of serious consideration in trying to cope with the politics of ethnicity. In a sense, territorial division is the handmaiden of ethnic compartmentalization and separation. A further battery of arguments consistent with territorial compromise is inspired by contemporary emphases in the scientific study of international relations. Foremost is partition’s relevance for modern geopolitics in that it squarely addresses the territorial dimension of nationalist conflicts. As Harold and Margaret Sprout, K. J. Holsti, and others remind us, elements of physical and political geography in general, and, in particular, rival territorial claims—how to apportion living space—continue even in the thermonuclear age to be a central element in political disputes and turf wars.8 The discourse of political geographers is replete with refer-

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Palestine, Peacemaking, and Partition

ences to “shared space” versus “separate spaces.” Here partition assumes relevance through its advocacy of sharing land by dividing it rather than fighting for exclusive possession. Another ancillary line of defense is to see territorial compromise likewise fitting into integration theories as the reverse process of state deconstruction, or “building down.” Olson and Groom, for example, insist that theories of disintegration be taken as seriously as those focusing exclusively upon unification, in that they address the important question of “why separate groups persist, and collective identities, in defiance of class or state, emerge, persist or resurge, becoming politically salient.”9 They go on to note, “Moreover, disintegration has only recently been taken seriously as something other than an anomaly or a pathological state.” Modern approaches to the classical theory of the balance of power are certainly receptive to partitionist thinking. Many leading thinkers of the realist and neorealist school like Morton Kaplan, Hedley Bull, and Kenneth Waltz have maintained the traditional preoccupation with static power equations and configurations—bipolar, triangular, quadrilateral, pentagonal, with structures of balance or imbalance, and with stable or unstable equilibria.10 Others, however, like Michael Sheehan, are shifting the emphasis away from balance of power as situation toward the concept of a more dynamic, ongoing process of balancing and reequilibrating power.11 From this latter viewpoint what matters most is the methodology behind balancing behavior and the techniques available to statesmen for creating and preserving rough balances as well as for redressing imbalances. Wars, arms races, accumulated wealth, and alliances aside, historically the balancing of power has relied heavily upon four different usages of the land factor: unilateral conquest and annexation, neutral buffer zones, spheres of influence, partition. In this context, it is fair to say that partition has long been handmaid to the balance of power. And, to the extent that world affairs signal a return to the balancing of power, then territorial adjustment and compensation—so central to the partition logic—are all but certain to remain a permanent fixture on the international scene. Current peace research contributes further to partition’s rehabilitation. Writings on international mediation and conflict resolution assign highest priority among territorial claimants to what Zartman calls “the fifty percent solution,” by which he means a formula for mutual concessions and compromise.12 Spokesmen for the international system appear to be taking essentially the same position as students of rational choice theory and expected utility models, namely, that almost any end to intercommunal (ethnic) or possibly even interdenominational (religious) conflict within segmented

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societies—even one without a necessarily happy ending—is to be preferred to conflicts without end. In 1754 the American colonists may have waved a banner showing a serpent and the motto “Join, or Die,” whereas in the waning days of the Soviet Union the slogan that carried the day was “Divide, or Die!” In this spirit all recommended negotiating strategies for peacefully resolving territorial and other political differences— whether couched in terms of self-interest or payoffs and cost variables— put the willingness to “split the difference” at an absolute premium. This change in thinking toward national and territorial partition has earned it newfound diplomatic respectability, which can be sensed in John Mearsheimer’s provocative March 1993 New York Times op-ed piece, “Shrink Bosnia to Save It.” There he challenges conventional wisdom by asking, “Wouldn’t it make good practical and moral sense to organize and plan the border changes rather than to allow the chaos of war to decide them?”13 Returning to this theme in a subsequent article, Mearsheimer and Van Evera fault American foreign policy makers in Bosnia on two counts. In the first instance, for having blindly, reflexively opposed partition for so long because partition “is so ugly”; and, in the second instance, for belatedly seeing the light only at “the culmination of a glacial process,” finally consenting at the Dayton roundtable talks to “a veiled partition but a partition nonetheless.”14 Going beyond Bosnia, the authors offer the following important generalization: we must be willing at times to decide “that some states cannot be sustained and should instead be disassembled.” For only if we accept this reality “honestly and promptly” will we have, in their words, “a reasonable chance of managing their disassembly and keeping it relatively peaceful.” Their parting words are equally relevant for our discussion: “Partition should remain a last resort, but, regrettably, we still live in a world where it is sometimes necessary.” What Mearsheimer and Van Evera do is take contemporary thought forward, asking us to overcome an a priori antipartitionist bias that is the legacy of eighteenth and nineteenth century European power politics in the spirit of divide et impera. For they are basically arguing that territorial division deserves the endorsement of leading international actors if it can fulfill two basic preconditions. The first requirement is consent; consent of the partitionees, who themselves are also the partitioners, àla the Czechs and the Slovaks—in contrast to the past, when collusion among the dividing power or outside copartitionist powers was the only necessary and sufficient condition. The second criterion for endorsement is that the pro-partition initiative also be preemptive, meaning that agreement be given prior to (indeed, in place of) hostilities.

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Given both propitious circumstances, partition then becomes something else entirely. It constitutes a form of preventive diplomacy and therefore more readily defensible as conflict avoidance rather than, as so often in the past, a “natural” part of conflict termination—a postconflict exercise by highhanded statesmen in arbitrarily sharing out the spoils of military superiority. Mearsheimer and Van Evera, in effect, mirror a sober realist viewpoint. For all its problems, on any comparative real-world basis partition may be the “least bad” of the proffered alternatives. Geoffrey Clark reasons that the West might do well “to get over its fetish for the unitary and inviolable nation-state,” if simply because many of the world’s states are quite artificial and in any case already divided, de facto, by deep ethnic differences.15 Himself an observer of post–Second World War and post-cold war situations of civil strife (in Cambodia, in Bosnia, in a number of African states), Clark urges in such instances, “Let them divide, rather than encourage them into winner-take-all elections or civil wars,” concluding, “It is not the best solution, but at this late stage it is better than no solution.” Just how much better is quite another affair and best left to case-bycase examination. The main point, however, is the goal of restructuring both nations and failed states in striving for more homogeneous units that are capable of functioning. Also, in striking contrast to the former instinctive knee-jerk reaction of immediately disqualifying it out of hand, a greater willingness that one finds of late to at least consider the option of radical surgery and partitionism’s offer of a clean break. Graham Fuller, reinforcing Clark’s argument, judges the present international order of existing state borders to be essentially obsolete. He predicts that we are entering only the first phase of a new cycle in what he terms “state regeneration,” leading to a proliferation of national actors, the endless subdivision of traditional state units, the multiplication of sovereign entities, and the doubling or tripling of UN membership over the next century.16 By such formulations does partitionism reemerge as a valid instrument for inspired diplomatists—rather than what Conor Cruise O’Brien once referred to in the context of Ireland as “an expediency of tired statesmen.”17 And contrary to categorical rejection, as in Robert Schaeffer’s “Partition is a failed political policy.”18 Applying Partition to Irreconcilably Divided Societies With concern for international peace and stability shifting from crossborder wars to civil wars, statesmen hard-pressed to come up with a better solution are more inclined to respect the territorial compromise for-

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mula primarily as an instrument of nationalist politics. Or, at a minimum, no longer gratuitously to dismiss partition in categorical terms: no less unthinkable than it is politically unacceptable. As of the 1990s it is the alarming increase in the number of deteriorating internal situations marked by multiethnicity and intercommunal strife from Abkhazia through Kosovo to Zaire that has replaced imperial and superpower rivalries as the greatest single threat to order. The specter of Huntington’s “clash of civilizations”19 and wars of religion is materializing not so much at the interstices between differing cultural states as domestically, within the territorial confines of individual states. Thus, presenting both the pros and cons of partition as a solution for ethnic groups in conflict, Donald L. Horowitz, for one, comes down on the side of partition. He finds that despite the difficulties, and because the benefits would be substantial, partitionist solutions directed at separating the antagonists through a pragmatic course of civilized territorial compromise “deserve full-dress consideration.”20 From a strictly functional as well as a larger systemic standpoint, this desire to “go it alone” makes little sense. Economically, for example, more than being simply wasteful or inefficient, separatist nationalism stands to be ruinous. But then, since when are liberationists necessarily standardbearers for “right reason” or particularly interested in justifying balance sheets or rationalizing trade performance? Nonetheless, anticipating the economic deprivation, nonviability, insecurities, and other attendant costs in fragmentation, several international trends presently underway suggest the availability in the future of shock absorbers to help shield prospective breakaway states from some of these costs. By realistically acknowledging the likelihood of proliferating smaller units, upgraded partition constructs can incorporate novel, even progressive ways to compensate consenting copartitionist parties for the pains of disintegration at the domestic subnational level. How? By offering modes of accommodation, cooperation, and interdependence at the higher plane of supranationalism. In the future, for example, integration theory and regionalism, although contrary in spirit and thinking to the very idea of insularity and separatism, might actually help to offset psychological and material advantages forfeited in opting out of existing states. Witness membership in the European community, breaking the fall for the Czechs and Slovaks and easing the initial disruptive dislocation necessarily accompanying any such large-scale disengagement. Should a further wave of separatist movements and secession become reality, then new, greater possibilities will present themselves

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in the twenty-first century for admitting smaller copartitionist successor states, like the Czech and Slovak republics or prospective Cypriot and Turkish entities on a divided Cyprus, into broader frameworks. Affiliation in larger regional security regimes and economic unions, if anything, might actually cushion the effects of territorial division, enhancing rather than weakening its appeal in the future. In other words, in an era of globalization and larger functional networks of states, ethnic separation combined with territorial partition may be unesthetic but not necessarily unworkable. Still, the centrifugal forces of renewed tribalism and religious fundamentalism threaten in the more immediate future to expose twin postWestphalian fictions nevertheless maintained since 1648: the unity of the nation and the sovereignty of the state. Today nation and state are regarded as separate concepts and need to be dealt with as such by international diplomacy. In which case the prospective repartitioning of Palestine, especially if fully implemented, is profoundly instructive for other multinational societies and states likewise imprisoned by the divisive politics of fragmentation. If for these reasons alone, and notwithstanding classical partition’s sordid reputation, the practice of compromising and redividing contested territory surely deserves a fair hearing. Two additional arguments: relative to other scenarios, controlled partition may be no less a humane, democratic, compromise solution; and, second, neopartitionism to a large extent can be accommodated into current mainstream international relations thinking. To the same extent that borders may be untenable, so is it possible for entire states to be rent asunder by unbridgeable sectarian differences. If their residents and segmented communities simply cannot or will not live together, then they might better be encouraged, if nothing else, at least to agree upon peacefully going their own respective separate ways. Once neither shared rejoicing nor shared grief suffice any longer to unite them, what remains, really, for accidental neighbors and citizens by compulsion who feel themselves imprisoned within traditional political allegiances and borders that serve as nothing but stifling walls of confinement? Rationalizing Territorial Compromise Global political trends aside, a pro-partition stance is more readily defensible in the prevailing intellectual climate. Specific reference is made here to recent academic work in important subfields and cognate disciplines of international relations.

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Political geography maintains an abiding concern with spatial determinants even in the nuclear era. Integration theory, of late expanded to include the reverse process of disintegration as well, instructs us in the ongoing dialectic of unity/disunity and recombinated geopolitical entities. Territorial adjustment and compensation are traditionally subsumed within the political realist approach. For much of world history partitioning contested land has served as one of the instruments most favored for balancing power between competitive actors in an anarchic, self-help regional or international system. Negotiation theory, in turn, certainly places the highest emphasis upon bargaining strategies that encourage give and take and compromise. Again, the supreme value of compromise is highlighted as well in the extensive literature emerging from empirical and conceptual work in recent years on nationalism and ethnic conflict and, not least, peace research itself. The combined effect is to reinforce the strong link between our two themes of territory and compromise. A 1992 commentary provides useful insight into subtle changes of attitude toward partition that have begun to percolate upward into policy-making circles. Referring to the flaring up of old eastern European nationalism, the Economist editorialized: “The way to deal with such a legacy is not to resist break-ups by forcing unhappy peoples to live together in one country. It is to recognize that in some places divorce is inevitable, and to mediate as amicably as possible.”21 It added: “The world’s happier nations could not have prevented the Yugoslav bust-up, but they might have made it less cruel by helping to negotiate the terms of separation earlier on.” Venturing beyond partition’s inevitability, Michael Walzer is prepared to defend it on a second, higher plane of moral justice, whenever “there doesn’t seem to be any humane or decent way to disentangle the tribes, and at the same time the entanglements are felt to be dangerous—not only to individual life, which is reasonable enough, but also to communal wellbeing.”22 Because the methods of coercion required to keep peoples together against their will are unacceptable, he is led to conclude, “We have to think about divorce, despite its difficulties.” In sum, peace and partition are not inherently or necessarily incompatible. Present-day conceptual and policy-oriented attempts at dealing with post–cold war international threats to peace by (a) averting, (b) easing, or (c) ending intrastate conflicts might well give reconsideration to territorial compromise as political compromise. This sounds far easier than it is in practice, because of ingrained dislike for partition among diplomats in general and American diplomatic tradition in particular.

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To be sure, partition does not lack for critics; neither is it claimed to be flawless. Nevertheless, in countering traditional, intense Pavlovian-like aversion to any form of territorial partition, insisting upon key distinctions might help in at least earning partitionism a fair hearing. Whatever else, judgment on the partition construct should be nuanced and not categorical.23 It should be based on case studies, close analysis, and comparative research. Comparative also in the other sense of being weighed, critiqued, and judged always against the relative advantages, and faults, of the other available rival solutions and peace constructs. Preempting a good deal of the anticipated criticism, the imperfections of partition and much of its bitter history are well known from previous essays in political and territorial division, India and Palestine in particular. For example, partition cannot claim to be singularly effective in producing durable peace settlements. At best, it can provide a respectable formula for ethnic communities to spare themselves considerable grief, while offering some hope for staying alive, retaining sanity, and seeking normalcy. There are enormous practical difficulties in disengaging. Partition invariably leaves behind a good deal of unfinished business; note Kashmir. Few “partitionables”—from Quebec to northern Italy and from Sudan, the Basque country, Kurdistan, and Baluchistan to the West Bank—are going to be nearly as neat and amenable as former Czechoslovakia. Critics are therefore on solid ground in faulting—but not disqualifying and eliminating—the construct for its tendency to lead, in Schaeffer’s analysis, to “the displacement of indigenous populations, disenfranchisement of ethnic and secular minorities, frustration of empowered majorities, internecine social conflict, and interstate war.”24 Nevertheless, done properly—which means, above all, by insisting upon, and pressing for mutual consent—territorial compromise has as much chance for being confirmed practical necessity as folly. For doing arguably more good than harm. For granting self-determination, however illogical, until such time as more rational heads are ready to begin the long postpartition climb back to closer cooperation, possibly even reintegration. Yet so engrained is the antipartition bias that many people are quite simply unready to look at both sides of partition. Out of a self-professed “obsession with partition,” Radha Kumar has somehow managed to get it all wrong in her passionate 1997 critique, Divide and Fall? Bosnia in the Annals of Partition.25 Setting out single-mindedly “to counter the re-

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cently revived idea that partition can be a solution to ethnic conflict” and to demonstrate once and for all how “in the present time the formula is essentially anachronistic,”26 she focuses on the enduring Yugoslav crisis as the outstanding case in point for categorically dispensing with partition anywhere. Alas for Kumar’s efforts at closure of debate on partition, BosniaHerzegovina is neither a failure in partition nor a triumph. It certainly does not stand as a condemnation of the basic theory and entire concept of partition, for the very simple and prosaic reason that partition has never been pronounced the peace construct of choice in the Balkans. In fact, quite the opposite: the Clinton administration did not recognize partition as a fait accompli; reintegration was the declared message of Dayton; America’s energies were channeled into averting a final political and ethnic split. Indeed, the entire thrust behind the U.S.-brokered Dayton agreement to this very day remains to preclude, not promote, territorial separation—which may very well yet prove historically to be the single greatest anachronism of all. Still, having conceded most of partition’s known or alleged shortcomings, there is a profound difference between (1) viewing partition with complete disdain, (2) treating it as an imperfect yet expedient tool, and (3) addressing it in more positive and even constructive terms. Primarily, in the latter instance, as a peace formula that while not suitable everywhere may still be appropriate to certain situations or types of conflict, equitable under the “fair share” principle and also workable. If certain conditions prevail, or can be made to prevail. It follows from this, second, that the differences are no less profound between agreed partition at the behest of those targeted for separation and a coerced partition that is involuntary. By way of conclusion, the theoretical framework used in this study posits four dimensions to partition as territorial compromise. The first axis is coercion versus consensus; the second axis is general or universal versus case- and country-specific. Therefore, in proceeding with this close examination of Palestine and agreed partition, on the first count, I adopt Uri Savir’s rendering of the Oslo accords as “an equation of freedom and security which leads to political separation on one side and to broad cooperation on the other.”27 This is a more worthy, and in my estimation, a more realistic point of departure than, by comparison, Radha Kumar’s frankly ungracious dismissal of Israel’s post-Oslo actions and, in effect, the whole direction of the

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process, as “pointed towards the ultimate creation of an invisible Palestine within a bispatial structure whose upper tier would comprise an Israel with highways overpassing Palestine to the rest of the Arab world, and whose lower tier would comprise impoverished and disparate Palestinian territories.”28 On the second, theoretical, count, here I am partial to Schaeffer’s reading of partition as cyclical rather than dead-end. In seeming selfcontradiction, at one point he concludes, categorically, that partition “is a failed policy,” only to reverse himself in writing, more perceptively: “Violence is used to advance partition. Which is seen as a solution to violence. But partition, in turn, produces new conditions that lead to violence and war, where partition can again be advanced as a solution.”29 There is no better proof of the ongoing dialectical politics of partition than Palestine. Therefore, more than anything else, we do need to be discriminating, although in an entirely different sense of the word. Discriminating not in a priori and biased, one-sided judgments. Definitely not the categorical, blanket condemnation of partition represented in the writings of Kumar and others. And often unaccompanied by any better or more effective alternative to the plight of estranged ethnic and national groupings than appeals for “reintegrative programs” and “pluralistic projects for economic reconstruction and development”30 by precisely those nations and people who have lost the will to collaborate. But, rather, discriminating in our ability, and willingness, to search for useful distinctions. To identify gray areas, to sensitively calibrate lesser evils, and to zero in on what may still be politically possible relative to complex real-world conditions. In short, we start out by acknowledging that any design for repartitioning Palestine/Israel and the West Bank will yield imperfect peace: Sulzberger’s “awkward form of compromise.” But compromise and peaceful accommodation nonetheless. Partition Qualifiers Part of partition’s problem is that it has always been regarded as a Machiavellian solution; whereas it deserves to be seen as embodying elements of sensitivity and, yes, fairness as well. Realpolitik and political realism are not necessarily one and the same thing. Certainly not when it comes to exercising prudence and discerning when two people—or for that matter, two peoples, or two nations—have reached a breaking point and pro-

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nounce themselves no longer capable of coexisting within a single framework. This latter point leads to an important distinction: partition of and partition between. Dividing something integral as opposed to dividing two already distinctive units or entities. In one column, for instance: wantonly dividing a single organic nation (Germans, Koreans). Illegally and capriciously splitting an existing state (Poland, Czechoslovakia in the late 1930s, ostensibly on the grounds of wishing to separate Sudetenland Germans from Czechs. Arbitrarily carving up a failed, vanquished empire or even an entire continent (Africa).31 In a separate column, though, are prescriptions for decoupling two diverse societies. Here the reference is to two or possibly even more ethnic communities whose forebears were thrust together within a single geopolitical unit because of an “accident of history.” But who at the current stage of their national history—or histories!—pronounce themselves mismatched and politically incompatible and, therefore, ask to break the formal and now restrictive ties keeping them together. Similarly, in directing this reassessment of partitionism to the ArabIsrael conflict, two further analytical distinctions need to be made. Paradigmatically, territorial separatism can be interpreted in one of two ways. As exchanging land not in kind (i.e., for a different piece of land) but in return for some other value, be it peace, security, monetary compensation, or supplementary guarantees or trading land for land, which is partition defined as territorial compromise. In instances of the latter the final partition regime as agreed upon can be either “hard” or “soft,” the chief difference being sealed borders and high walls signaling independence from each other versus a qualified disengagement and separatism allowing for a degree of interdependence upon each other. But whatever the exact format, hard or soft, the main point about partition is that it leaves neither copartitionist dependent in the sense of subordinated one to the other. Rather than using partition in cavalier fashion as a catch-all, we ought to insist on differentiating between types of partition. The following table suggests one possible set of key variables. Such classifications and refinements do more than aid our understanding of partition as a technique available to the peacemaker and statesman. Above all, they guard against our rendering blanket, categorical judgments, whether for or against.

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TABLE

2.1. Partition Variables

Partitioner Rival global or regional powers The rival communities themselves The Enforcement Mechanism Imposed Consensual

Partitioned Colonial possessions Defeated belligerents A homogeneous nation-state and society A multiethnic state/entity Ease of Implementation Resistance Large-scale dislocation and/or violence Compliance Minimal, controlled damage Peaceful

Degree of Separation Hard partition Soft partition Nature of Postpartition Relations Strict segregation, exclusionary strained relations Qualified Separation Inclusionary, interactive (economic union, condominium) Correct relations Normalized relations

Duration Unstable, short-lived, transitory Transitional (possibly leading to recombinatory forms of federalism) Institutionalized and durable

Endorsement of partition as well as opposition to it must be discerning. It ought to be done on a case-by-case basis. It must fit the specific problem relative to both prevailing conditions and to the chances, alternatively, for a unitary rather than separatist solution. And it has to meet the threefold standard: credible, workable, durable. In this way it becomes entirely possible for the United States and other international actors politically to favor partition in one instance while opposing it in another, and still not be charged with flagrant policy inconsistency. Partition, in conclusion, does offer a possible exit strategy in either instance: conflict avoidance or conflict termination. But only in certain, admittedly select instances. The Israeli-Arab conflict may be one of them. Indeed, turning from the general (the theory of the politics of partition) to the case specific (repartitioning Palestine), nowhere are the above insights more relevant than in the context of Middle East peacemaking. Here Israelis and Palestinians are deeply immersed in their own private experiment at negotiating a political-territorial redivision of British-mandated Palestine: Eretz Yisrael/Filastin.

1. Palestine and Transjordan Under the British Mandate

Chapter 3

Partition and Palestine

One can live in the shadow of an idea without grasping it. —Elizabeth Bowen (1949)

At this late stage of threatened overripeness in the historic Arab-Zionist quarrel, partition is arguably the best and quite possibly the only realistic proposal that international relations theory and diplomatic experience have for unlocking the door to a comprehensive settlement through political compromise. Almost as if by default, territorial compromise, a redivision of land, and the redrawing of borders have emerged—indeed, reemerged—as the overall guiding principles most favored for moving on. For going beyond interim arrangements to a definitive resolution of the core Palestine problem. After Oslo, No Turning Back From the standpoint of repeated efforts at breaching the wall of Arab, Israeli, and Palestinian intransigence, the negotiating record since 1993 is entirely unprecedented. Looking beyond the anticipated day-to-day posturing, tactical moves, and inflammatory pronouncements as well as the sporadic outbursts of violence, surely the larger thrust—the “big picture”—is the sense of diplomatic movement. As the two directly engaged, directly concerned parties, Israelis and Palestinians are in fact moving forward (although inching is probably the more appropriate term) and moving inexorably toward each other. Ahead of them lies certainly their single most fateful strategic decisional crossroads: whether to continue fighting over the land, to share it conjointly, or to share in dividing it. Without expressly saying so in declarative terms, the two claimants have already reached a notable degree of congruence by embracing the underlying postulates of (a) physical and (b) political separation, albeit with varying degrees of diluted enthusiasm, fatalism, or simple prudence. Both in Israeli official policy circles and in public sentiment “separatism”

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has become the key operative and conceptual password ever since a rash of suicidal Islamic fundamentalist terrorism in 1995 led the late prime minister, Yitzhak Rabin, to endorse the idea. Palestinian politics likewise mirror the desire—equally felt—to strike out on an independent course, to be rid of the Israeli presence, and to build parallel but entirely separate and distinctive national institutions. Thus, for example, the first public opinion survey ever carried out jointly by Israeli and Palestinian research institutes revealed at the start of 1998 that both peoples held very similar views on the need for establishing a closed, clearly demarcated border between the two entities to keep them apart.1 Sixty-three percent of the Palestinians polled, and 81 percent of the Israelis, favored such a separation. But here the similarity and parallels end. For the two sides are poles apart in their interpretation of just what separatism means. Not as a slogan or diplomatic buzzword, but in precise and tangible terms. A straightforward land-for-peace deal or a political and political compromise involving mutual and reciprocal territorial concessions—land for land? Territorial compromise as minor rectifications or as major repartition? And if partition, which form is it going to take: hard and exclusionary, or soft, qualified partition? The problem is that both sides have been encouraged all along to seek refuge in studied silence on these vital partitionist issues and to remain noncommittal for as long as possible. Theirs is a diplomatic waiting game premised upon intransigence, the aim being to see who will be the first to break and to concede both principles and real estate. But this kind of evasiveness on the parameters, scope, and costs in repartitioning is itself part and parcel of a larger debatable characteristic so prominent in ArabIsraeli peacemaking, which comes under the heading of “constructive ambiguity.” An End to Constructive Ambiguity As a rule statesmen and international lawyers are quick to underline the importance of precision, particularly when drafting any binding diplomatic instrument such as a protocol, declaration, agreement, or treaty. This exactitude is counseled in order to assure one’s own interests, to minimize the likelihood of misinterpretation, and to avoid later misunderstandings and charges of bad faith. Suffice merely to recall the 1917 Balfour Declaration. This terse, one-page open letter from the British foreign secretary of the day expressing general support for the establishment in Palestine of something termed a Jewish “national home” has generated an entire bookshelf of studies analyzing both the meaning and the intent

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of each and every word. Or, more recently, the enduring controversy over the ambiguous wording and intent of UN Resolution 242, centering on the 1967 call for Israel’s withdrawal from “territories” rather than “the territories,” let alone “all the territories.” Logically, one might be led to assume murky language would be no less frowned upon in conflict resolution and peacemaking than it is in civil lawmaking or other forms of contractual dealing. Any document marked by imprecision (and how much more so if done deliberately) is readily open to extreme criticism on the grounds of being unprofessional, as false representation, possibly even collusion. The more surprising, therefore, to find ambiguity one of the pillars of conventional wisdom in Arab-Israel diplomacy and, moreover, lauded as nothing less than constructive ambiguity. Indeed, constructive ambiguity possesses a rationale of its own. A typical defense of purposeful vagueness as an extremely serviceable tool by Middle East practitioners schooled in the intractable nature of the basic Palestine problem usually includes some of the following logic. From the standpoint of an interactive negotiating process, being vague helps paper over irreconcilable differences. By respectfully agreeing to disagree, each party is thus left free to interpret in its own way any loosely defined word, nebulous clause, or particularly controversial agenda item. Ambiguity is also helpful in that it enables conference rapporteurs to cite a positive atmosphere, making it possible for them to report favorably on further progress and to promote what may often in reality be the false impression of a widening consensus and of a sustainable momentum. After all, consider those individuals directly engaged in the process who are not only ideologically and emotionally committed to it but professionally preoccupied with it as well. What matters most for them is, again, that this intentional lack of precision contributes to a perceived sense of breakthrough and of general movement in the right direction. When seen in this light, obfuscation and generalization become a fairly elegant way of sidestepping contentious issues, avoiding confrontations and removing impasses—even if only temporarily. That constructive ambiguity also permits national leaders and negotiators preoccupied with both short-term costs and immediate gains to put off hard political choices and their personal moment of truth for as long as possible by deciding for the moment not to decide only adds to its appeal. In sum, ambiguity is dual-use: it may serve to forestall a breakdown of the peace talks while at the same time deferring a showdown in the peace talks. Yet, this positive spin on constructive ambiguity is not entirely convincing.2 It is certainly open to criticism: as evasive, as a recipe for inaction, as poisoning the atmosphere rather than building confidences, as

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gaining time by encouraging false hopes while actually raising expectations on both sides. Especially telling is that unlike lawyers, Israelis and Palestinians living on a powder-keg cannot expend limitless time, and lives, dealing ad hoc with cases and peace agenda–related issues as they come up and without reference to a whole. No matter how seemingly beneficial in immediate and momentary terms, diplomatic ambiguity in the larger, longer-range sense could well be inimical to what really matters in peacemaking—ultimate peace prospects. How much ill-will and recrimination have already been caused just in the post-Oslo interim stage because of imprecision? The issue of what constitutes Israeli settlement “expansion.” The exact formula and timetable for abrogation by the PLO of its covenant clauses calling for Israel’s destruction. The degree of direct accountability on Arafat’s Palestinian National Authority for preventing and punishing acts of terror. And, to be sure, the timing and extent of military redeployment on Israel’s part as a prelude to the final negotiations. “Double-crossing bridges when we come to them” is a clever diplomatic play on words. Clearly, though, at some point the really thorny issues of the Palestine problem do have to be addressed. They cannot be finessed forever, least of all at the present delicate moment. As U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright came to appreciate at a fairly early stage of involvement for her, but terribly late in the peacemaking process itself. “If the parties have a clear mutual and favorable sense of the ultimate direction of negotiation,” she commented, “it will be easier for them to overcome setbacks and avoid distractions along the way.”3 One of the deeper reasons for what has been ailing the Oslo process, above and beyond personality clashes, is the simple fact that even now this sense of direction is still lacking. Less predictable is what will happen when push does finally come to shove. When pretenses are dropped, and when core issues are finally confronted head-on, but only at a very advanced, late, and presumably final stage in the peace talks. For negotiating theory the preferred outcome, of course, would be a happy ending: a mighty diplomatic effort capped by a valedictory demonstration of flexibility and compromise by both sides. However, there are, to be sure, also two distinctly dysfunctional outcomes. Unilateral concessions extracted under duress from one side backed into a corner and negotiating from weakness are equivalent to capitulation, thereby guaranteeing at least one disgruntled, revisionist party in the postsettlement phase. Stonewalling is an even worse scenario. Here, intransigence by both parties and a refusal by either side to make last-minute concessions on matters each regards as vital runs the danger not only of setting back prospects for

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conflict termination but of putting all previously registered gains in serious jeopardy. In such an eventuality a peace momentum sustained by ambiguity could come grinding to a halt and then reverse itself, with the attendant risks of a breakdown in talks, diplomacy’s abject failure leading to a deterioration in relations and an ominous return to previous conflictual patterns. Here Jerusalem comes to mind. Although its own special ambiguities and complexities are reserved for separate treatment in a later chapter, at least one point is directly relevant for the present discussion. Conventional Middle East diplomatic wisdom has it that for a number of reasons having to do with Jerusalem’s being so emotionally charged an issue and representing the very worst in Arab-Jewish obduracy, we are all better off for now by enveloping it in ambiguity and would do well to leave it for last. Yet insistence upon putting Jerusalem first instead of last might arguably have been a wiser approach in the first heady days of Oslo and certainly, since then, from Israel’s standpoint. If, as expected, the acid test of Palestinian willingness to compromise is foregoing east Jerusalem as Arab Palestine’s capital, there is greater prudence in facing the moment of truth earlier rather than later and before rather than after yielding further tangible assets that by then will be irretrievable. In effect, the more earnest and the more detailed final status IsraeliPalestinian negotiations become, and the closer we approach a denouement, the greater the imperative for clarity and precision. But then, of course, the less available does constructive ambiguity become as the last refuge not of scoundrels but of bargainers with a vested interest in fudging the issues, in blurring distinctions, and in deferring unpleasant decisions. In other words, only now is the really truly arduous work of partitioning Palestine beginning. And until such time as all the i’s are dotted and the t’s crossed, and a workable scheme of agreed separation is hammered out, it would be unwise, and certainly premature, to rush into print by declaring the Middle East conflict passé.4 Still a Discordant Note In at least one sense, therefore, the picture of an Israeli-Palestinian convergence that has formed around the partition peace construct is deceptive or, at best, still slightly premature. Concern for partition’s prospects and longer-term future, but also historical accuracy, require our duly noting that the two rival national movements have not arrived simultaneously at this partitionist conclusion. Nor do they quite share as yet a common understanding of what “territorial compromise” precisely means. In responding sixty years ago to a British-inspired plan calling for

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Palestine’s fair division, the Zionist leadership of the day made the crucial adjustment from ideological rigidity to political flexibility and realism by reservedly accepting the notion of sovereign control over only a portion of the biblical holy lands. This support for the basic partitionist formula was again registered a decade later at the next critical junction. Once more confronted by the necessity of choice, in 1947 Jewish Agency spokesmen lobbied in favor of the United Nations partition initiative. This second time around they did so less hesitantly than in 1937, with greater enthusiasm and passion, seeing it as “Peel plus the Negev.” Indeed, the General Assembly vote adopting a plan of partition is still regarded as a singular triumph in the annals of Zionist statecraft.5 Unfortunately for early peacemaking, starting with 1937 the partition strategy, once vented, only exposed new asymmetries—of attitude, of goal expectation, of pragmatism—between Arabs and Jews, further heightening the great communal and political divide already separating them. To the later observer Zionist pre-state affirmations of territorial and political separateness in 1937 and 1947 appear in stark contradistinction to the bedrock Arab stand bitterly opposed to partition. Palestinian rejectionism was principled from the outset in that it went beyond pointed criticism of any particular plan or detail of partition. Objection rested in the most fundamental sense on the very notion in Arabic of taqsim as something distasteful, unjust, and artificial. This steadfast resistance to partition on the Palestinian side was to last for an entire half-century. It finds clear expression in Article 2 of the 1964 Palestine National Covenant, which states unequivocally that “Palestine, with the boundaries it had during the British Mandate, is an indivisible territorial unit.”6 For added emphasis the first part of Article 19 pronounces: “The partition of Palestine in 1947 and the establishment of The State of Israel are entirely illegal, regardless of the passage of time.” It required fifty long years following the 1937 Peel commission report in favor of a land split for the Palestinian national leadership to reach a comparable level of political maturity and to acknowledge limits to the politically—and geographically—attainable. From the perspective of the Palestinians there should be no minimizing the enormity of the concessions that have now been made at least on the level of official ideology and declaratory policy. For most, perhaps all Palestinians, having to acknowledge the reality of the State of Israel even if restricted to the area west of the pre-1967 armistice borders is equal to a public confession of failure. It also means relinquishing title to what still represents for them a large portion of “their” Palestine.

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Little wonder, therefore, the public agonizing engaged in by the Palestinian leadership once forced to acknowledge prevailing power realities. Upon issuing its “Palestinian Declaration of Independence” in November 1988, the Palestine National Council, meeting in Algiers, made positive reference for the first time to UN General Assembly Resolution 181 (1947). It became the basis for providing “those conditions of international legitimacy that ensure the right of the Palestinian Arab people to sovereignty and national independence.”7 When pressed shortly thereafter to amplify upon the oblique Algiers declaration, PLO chairman Yasir Arafat in December publicly stated at Geneva that the previously condemned UN Resolution 181 vouched for the right of all parties concerned in the Middle East conflict to exist in peace and security. Including “the state of Palestine, Israel and other neighbors.”8 While still refraining from outright use of the distasteful word partition, Arafat’s statement nevertheless has been interpreted ever since as belated official Palestinian endorsement for the “two states” solution through territorial compromise. Reconfirming how all-important timing is for peacemaking diplomacy, that the two sides appear at last to be “in sync” with each other on the level of guiding principles is what now makes possible partition’s rehabilitation, geopolitical realization . . . and historical vindication. More important than adopting the terminology of partition, what really matters is for mainstream, moderate Israelis, Palestinians, and their leaders to take up the partitionist line of reasoning. And to do so publicly and unequivocally. Lines of Ink, Fences of Stone To be sure, in addition to those already on record, the list of potential opponents arrayed against repartitioning Palestine in any way, shape, or form is by no means inconsequential. Seemingly unmindful of the infelicitous Lebanese precedent, those still harboring the antiquarian dream of a single Semitic entity premised upon Arab-Jewish binational coexistence and power sharing accuse partitionism of three cardinal sins. They deride it as excessive and uncalled for; second, as contravening physical, spatial realities; and, third, to be dismissed as a cowardly submission to parochial nationalism.9 Over the years, however, the federalist principle has come to enjoy much wider currency in many Israeli intellectual and political circles as the preferred policy of choice. Like the single-state framework, antipartitionist—and yet more cogent and more promising than binationalism.10 Middle East futurists, former Israeli premier Shimon Peres perhaps the

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most outspoken among them, take a similar view. For many years himself avowedly pro-partition so long as Jordan and King Hussein were understood to be Israel’s sole and indispensable copartitionist partner, the former Labor Party leader has revised his thinking. Eager to emulate the Europeans, and to move on with all due dispatch to a federated East Bank–West Bank nestled within a regional economic and security union, Peres now prescribes a “three-tiered program” of cooperation still consistent with his long-standing recoil before the idea of a fully independent and sovereign Palestinian state. One that works its way from binational or multinational projects to consortiums and on to the third stage of “regional community.”11 Leaving no room for doubt, he explicitly advocates “a Jordanian-Palestinian confederation for political matters, and a Jordanian-Palestinian-Israeli ‘Benelux’ arrangement for economic affairs.”12 In the eyes of such visionaries a separatist partition is objectionable for being at one and the same time unnecessary, insufficient, painful, and reactionary. Also because for some Labor Party diehards, with a residual distaste for adding a third state—a sovereign Palestine—to Israel and Jordan, confederation and moving directly to a larger supranational construct is the sole mechanism left for finessing the Palestinian drive to statehood. There is yet a third antipartitionist camp made up of extremists on the ideological right and in the Israeli settler movement but also, concurrently, among the ranks of Islamic and Arab radicals whose entire way of thinking is rooted in territorial exclusivity. For these defenders of the faith the very notion of dividing, respectively, Eretz Yisrael and Filastin is ideologically unthinkable and politically intolerable—indeed, tantamount to a heinous religious transgression and the highest act of political treason. Middle East experts like Fouad Ajami sensitize us to the fact that the entire “defective tale of Western betrayal that lies at the heart of Arab nationalist historiography” is encapsulated in the single theme of the post–World War I partition of the Arab patrimony.13 Bordering on the fanatical, this determination to fight partition at each and every stage of the wrenching process—and by all available means—should not be minimized. Right-wing holdouts of the nationalist Likud ruling party headed by Binyamin Netanyahu represent still a fourth position averse to repartition. Drawing on the teachings of the pre-state Revisionist leader Vladimir (Ze’ev) Jabotinsky and the personal example of former premiers Menachem Begin and Yitzhak Shamir, their opposition is two-fold. Opposition to forfeiting the historic claims of the Jewish people by unilaterally turning over any parts of biblical Judea and Samaria to alien non-Jewish hands. And opposition to scarring the landscape west of the Jordan River with artificial lines in order to copartition the area into an independent

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Palestine state alongside a constricted State of Israel.14 One of the more outstanding examples is the late Moshe Dayan. His deep distaste for territorial compromise led him in 1977 to formally break with the Labor Party, which made finding common cause with Begin possible. Dayan served in the latter’s first Likud government as foreign minister during the late 1970s, a time when, not incidentally, the idea of autonomy enjoyed brief popularity as a counter to Labor’s platform of partition. Until quite recently the most that people identifying with the hard-core Likud position might have been prepared to concede to Palestinians in their quest for political self-determination was some form of local, individual, or functional autonomy. Today, however, few spokesmen can be found for this restricted formula of limited self-rule.15 Perhaps the last vestiges of the short-of-statehood autonomy construct are official government references heard with less and less conviction in Jerusalem that Israel is prepared to accept no more than a Palestinian “entity” at the end of the final status negotiations. Which is in itself remarkable for the evolution in thinking about the price of peace it reveals, especially in the nationalist camp. As presently amended, the revised Likud stance implies Israeli-Palestinian partition yes, Palestinian sovereignty no. Any rearguard political and ideological objections to a formal repartition and redrawing of the present lines are reinforced by the security argument. Over the years any number of defense experts in and out of military uniform have warned that repartition risks putting Israel in mortal danger once again by increasing its exposure to Palestinian irredentism along an extended and permeable eastern border. On the other hand, the May 1999 national elections, which swept Netanyahu and the Likud out of power and Labor’s Ehud Barak into office, can be seen as still another reaffirmation of Israeli mainstream preparedness to deal with these and related issues through a two-state solution. If opinion surveys can be trusted as a fairly reliable indicator of mainstream thinking, then a significant majority of Israelis and Palestinians nonetheless increasingly express far more endorsement for separatism— albeit, in broad and general terms—than for binationalism, autonomy, federalism. Or, for that matter, continuing to live by the sword. For these “intimate enemies” territorial compromise alone offers any real prospect for reclaiming some sense of normalcy. But only by cutting the Gordian knot that has kept the two peoples hopelessly intruding upon each other’s physical as well as psychic space at every conceivable level, from the individual and communal to the national. What Arabs and Jews obviously seek is to disengage from each other to the greatest extent possible—and to do so as quickly and as painlessly

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as the complex, indeed, abnormal situation will allow. Which means that virtually the only shared ground still uniting the two communities resident in historic Palestine is this mutual desire—not to share the land but to share in dividing the land. Save perhaps for mutual vows to fight to the death for undivided, unshared possession of Palestine, could there be a more depressing summary statement of the futility behind Arab-Jewish intercultural, interethnic, and intercommunal relations after more than a hundred years of the closest proximity? Translated into stark political terms, embracing separatism means favoring some form of territorial compromise. To advocate a parting of the ways is in effect to endorse partition. Back to Peel At one point in their important 1991 study of collective insights from earlier Arab-Israeli negotiations, Lewis and Stein observe how “yesterday’s rejected or ignored proposal, document, or procedure may become tomorrow’s accepted agreement, newly adopted position, or process.”16 Partition serves as the example par excellence for the political phenomenon whereby an idea previously disqualified is at some later point resurrected and recycled under altered circumstances. The seemingly primordial and endless political struggle over Palestine has left a long paper trail. The partition theme thus serves as an analytical prism for refracting a great deal of the argumentation, legal and otherwise, as well as for surveying the history and evolution of the ArabIsrael conflict through its successive phases. It is in this historical context of turning points, strategic crossroads, and missed opportunities that we find an observation made some years ago singularly poignant and therefore worthy of quotation. In a 1983 essay on the conflict Larry Fabian depicted “the taboo word ‘partition’ “ as “three syllables that trigger all the primal emotions and irreconcilable arguments about what has been happening in Palestine since the beginning of this century.”17 The Middle East diplomatic record readily confirms this description. As early as July 1937 a special British royal commission drew three landmark conclusions about the two resident Arab and Zionist communities in Palestine: they were each capable of self-government and deserving of self-determination yet unwilling to live under one roof. Which two findings inspired the Peel commission to boldly propose resolving this enigma through strong advocacy of what was then regarded as a highly original, eminently rational and appealing scheme for judiciously dividing the British-mandated country into two states.

2. The 1937 Peel Commission Partition Plan

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Though never acted upon, the 1937 partition plan and rationale are one of the true “defining moments” in the struggle for Palestine. Thereafter, this single ordering concept of partition encompasses more of the history of the dispute than any other. It highlights the central territorial component. It underscores the many practical, literally down-to-earth aspects involved in physically dividing the land. It classifies proponents as well as opponents of partition at each successive stage. And it sorts out by categories the argumentation and lines of reasoning, both pro and con. Major markers in the extensive chronology of partition are as follows: • the 1937–38 heated controversy following publication of the Peel partition plan and its nonimplementation by Great Britain, which not only stands out as the earliest and the greatest single missed opportunity for avoiding the terrible Palestine tragedy the further removed we become but is the base point for all subsequent analysis and plans for partition;18 • the historic 1947 United Nations partition resolution endorsing a peaceful separation with economic union and an internationalized Jerusalem, rejected out of hand by Palestinian and Arab leaders, one of whom, Jamal Husseini, vowed, “The line of partition will be a line of blood and fire”; • the subsequent 1948 fighting and 1949 armistice, which did in fact leave former Palestine divided, but by military force; with the Palestinians left out and the new state of Israel and neighboring Transjordan instead as the two de facto copartitionists; • the 1967 war that seemingly erased the so-called 1949 green line by placing the entire west bank up to the Jordan River under Israeli control; • the post-1967 debate within Israel over the Labor Party’s peace platform of territorial compromise through the “Jordanian option”; • such near breakthroughs as the 1982 Reagan plan and the secret 1987 London agreement with King Hussein, either of which, if enforced, would have reapportioned the contested West Bank territories once again between Israel and the Hashemites; • the PLO’s implicit confession of past error in 1988 upon accepting the “two-state” formula of partition previously anathema to them for the better part of fifty years; • increased speculation over territorial compromise as the centerpiece for a promised final status arrangement ever since the September 1993 Oslo declaration of principles. Looking back over our shoulders in seeking insights if not inspiration for negotiating the future, we observe that unanswered calls for an equitable division of geographic, historic contested “Palestine” are by now a hall-

3. The 1947 United Nations Plan of Partition

4. The 1949 Armistice (“Green”) Line

5. The 1967 Cease-Fire Lines

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mark. Surely no less a permanent feature of the enduring Arab-Israel conflict than the violent and arbitrary de facto scarring of this land under the force of arms. Spanning six decades, the partition construct, in short, has the dubious distinction of being the most enduring, and unconsummated, of any peace scheme yet devised.19 In 1987 former Israeli foreign minister Abba Eban could write, “Today the partition principle is still alive, largely because the alternatives are bizarre or iniquitous.”20 This still rings true more than a full eventful decade later. Shifting perspectives from past to present tense, and from the negative to the positive, we cite George Bush’s important 1991 statement. In convening the Madrid Conference the former U.S. president expressed the belief that “territorial compromise is essential for peace.”21 Two years later the 1993 Oslo understandings opened an entirely new chapter in the partitioning of Palestine. The Repartition Agenda By now it seems clear that for all its shortcomings, and no matter how shopworn the idea—including the record of past failure—territorial compromise in Israel/Palestine still carries with it the potential for putting an end to intercommunal violence as well as for promoting Israeli Jewish no less than Palestinian Arab ethnic and cultural distinctiveness. And, in addition, prospects for Palestinian majority status in a state of their own. Still, beyond Arab and Israeli endorsement of the abstract principle lies the less prosaic follow-up question of exactly how—in political and geographic terms—to fulfill this mutual desire as part of a permanent sequel to interim Palestinian administrative self-rule. It is here at the practical level of political bargaining that theoretical paradigms and peaceful intentions come up, as they always must, against psychological and cultural divides, but also against the calculus of tangible interests and real-world impediments arising from human, physical, and political geography. Included under the latter rubric of “secondorder” problems are questions like territorial expanse, water resources, and raw materials, the issue of security and natural versus defensible borders, and matters of demography, population clusters, and dispersal.22 Here the diplomat’s task is compounded sevenfold by the set of immutable, disadvantageous facts quite particular to the land of Filastin/Eretz Yisrael. Having witnessed the 1996–97 drawdown toward a permanent status settlement mandated for 1999 by the 1993 Oslo pledge and timetable, we

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are also seeing an end to an entire era of so-called constructive ambiguity in Middle East peacemaking. This in itself is noteworthy, especially as part of partition’s transformation from an abstraction to a concrete, detailed plan and a joint Israeli-Palestinian specific blueprint. On the surface this last unfinished business of partition might appear deceptively simple and straightforward. Given the expressed desire— previously missing—of both Israelis and Palestinians to separate, the motivation for partition is certainly there. Reinforcement also might be derived from the inspiring precedent of a smooth “velvet partition” carried out by the Czechs and the Slovaks in late 1992 that is part of our recent diplomatic frame of reference. Seemingly all that remains is to trace the contours and dividing lines for an elegant two-state solution: a secure Jewish state of Israel next to a sovereign Arab state of Palestine. But as the documented experience of pro-partitionists from yesterday’s Peel commissioners through Ben-Gurion and Abba Eban, the Amir Abdullah and King Hussein, down to today’s Israeli peace movement can readily attest, only upon sitting down to flesh out the specific details of a territorial compromise do Palestine’s harsh realities and contradictions then assert themselves with a vengeance. Moreover, as for the Czechoslovak precedent, it owed in truth to an exceptional set of unreplicable circumstances; nor is it in any way really comparable to Palestine’s ethnic and other complexities. For purposes of analysis these complexities divide into two sets of governing (macro) and implementation (micro) principles applied to six broader clusters or “baskets” of issues. First and foremost: (1) the designated partition zone and questions relating directly to the land, its parcellation, border demarcations, water and other resource allocation, and, of course, Jerusalem and its future status as a united or divided city; (2) the degree and extent of separateness and (3) its phasing or implementation. The three other remaining issue-areas encompass (4) future economic relations, (5) political and security arrangements within the framework of a territorial compromise, (6) the Palestinian refugees, minority rights, mixed cities, and other demographic questions. More Questions Than Answers Broad-gauged questions and first-order problems governing preliminary discussion and the signing of a Declaration of Partition Principles (DPP), as well as guiding the more detailed follow-up negotiations, begin with, To which theaters of conflict is partition applicable?

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By advocating the repartitioning of “Palestine” do we mean a two-state or a three-state solution? Are we talking about a narrow or expansive territorial adjustment? All of historic Palestine? Extending to “Transjordan” and encompassing the East Bank as well? Or limited to the west of the Jordan and aimed at redividing the West Bank? Or, in the narrowest Palestinian interpretation, taking territorial compromise to mean acknowledging the Jewish state’s de facto existence inside the old, constricted 1948–1967 armistice borders? Indications are that, for the foreseeable future, neither supporters of Ariel Sharon nor old-time PLO stalwarts any longer seriously or immediately promote the slogans, respectively, of “Jordan is Palestine” or “Jordan is an integral part of Filastin.” Which effectively reduces the partitionable area to “cis-Jordania”—the constricted strip of land between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River. This said, however, it must be emphasized that the political future of Jordan and the direction Jordanian-Palestinian relations take in the next several years have the greatest bearing upon the concurrent Israeli-Palestinian equation and future political peace map.23 Second, how far ought the separation principle to be taken? Not in measuring acreage or square miles but rather in the degree of exclusivity and insularity. Can either state honestly expect to be hermetically sealed and ethnically cleansed from each other? Ideally, fences might make for good neighbors. Realistically, however, what are the prospects and what provision is there for ensuring each political unit’s economic viability in an era of interdependence between states, regional integration, and international mergers? Another question of a broad nature and at the same level of importance is whether partition holds the prospect for enhancing Israeli and Palestinian security. Or whether, on the contrary, it risks being counterproductive, deepening rather than alleviating the present felt individual and collective anxieties of one or both peoples, merely converting them into state insecurity. A further step removed: Is partitioning likely to bring greater or less regional stability? What does an independent Palestinian state portend for the Middle East military balance? For Middle East common security frameworks? And not only for the two partitioners but for each of their immediate neighbors—Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Syria? Arguably, for no country is the emerging security dilemma quite as acute as for the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, more than half of whose population is

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ethnically Palestinian, and for its ordering of relations with a newly created Palestine. By the same token, does the partition formula have any relevance for Israeli-Syrian bargaining over the Golan Heights as part of a regionwide, comprehensive Arab-Israel settlement? Still within the first category of larger governing principles heading the partition agenda is the suggested best course of action for handling the act of Israeli-Palestinian disengagement—really an unbelievably complicated process of disentanglement. Does exercising extreme caution make the most sense? Step-by-step partition, according to an agreed calendar of interim phases not to exceed 2–3 years from the time the DPP is signed, keeps to the Oslo model of gradualism (“Gaza-Jericho first”). It would also allow time for making all the necessary technical arrangements, as well as for the patients themselves to adjust individually and as societies to the traumatic and dislocating experience. Or, alternatively, in hoping to carry out the difficult surgery without prolonging the agony, is proceeding directly to the final cut perhaps advisable? In either case a fierce procedural argument is all but certain over the preferred timetable for partitioning, with important substantive implications. The second category of derivative or micropartition agenda items features more specific, detailed, and technical issues. Land redistribution, water rights, and resource allocation head the list, closely followed by procedures for coping with Palestinian laborers working daily in Israel, compensation and resettlement of refugees, Israel’s eastern political and security borders, limitations on Palestinian sovereignty, protecting the rights of minorities, demilitarization, security guarantees, the cultural autonomy of Israeli Arabs, the legal status and safety of Jewish settlements and settlers under Palestinian control, transit rights to and from Gaza, Jerusalem’s political and municipal status, shared control over religious sites and holy places. These are merely some of the more salient building blocks from which a partition-based peace structure must emerge. Each second-order problem is worthy of a commission of technical experts, civilian and military, assigned to draft detailed position papers and to recommend satisfactory answers. This unilateral phase then must be followed by Israeli-Palestinian working groups with the unenviable task of pulling together the individual components, identifying points of convergence, and integrating them into a coherent, workable, and ultimately comprehensive partition package. It is thus impossible to address these many questions inclusively in any single monograph.

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What we can volunteer, however, are the foundations around which to build a pro-partition consensus and coalition. Guiding principles for a fair share territorial compromise should set store upon: • minimum suffering and dislocation, • an honest, concerted attempt at resolving the plight of the Palestinian refugees, • maximum separation, also implying national homogeneity and the smallest number of ethnic minorities and enclaves, • maximum independence and self-government, mindful that the trappings of sovereignty, irrespective of their actual instrumentality, symbolize for Israelis and Palestinians alike a source of national pride and evidence of historical vindication, • cultural autonomy, • economic viability, with room for development, growth, and wide trade relationships, • soft borders, allowing for the free movement of people and goods, • but which nevertheless do not compromise the right of all parties to maximum and mutually assured security, including secure and recognized borders, • endorsement and ratification by the largest majority possible in each of the two respective communities and constituencies, so as to neutralize the recalcitrant holdouts and in order to improve • the prospect for lasting peace. With these guidelines in mind, we now turn to examine in closer detail some six selected issues at the very top of the partition agenda. The demographic spread, borders and security, the economics of separatism, Jerusalem, transit rights between the Israeli and Palestinian entities, peace plans and peace maps. These best illustrate the immensity of redividing Palestine. For if practical, workable, and, needless to add, mutually acceptable answers can be devised for each of the six, then partition and territorial compromise gain in stature and deserve our respect. No New Ground In targeting these particular six individual micro-issues and, equally, the larger partition construct, perhaps two last-minute caveats. The first: forget the “perfect peace.” There is no prospect (if there ever was) for an elegant, scarless clean cut in Palestine. And the second final word of counsel: don’t expect any conceptual breakthrough, since there is truly “nothing

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new under the sun” when it comes to basic constructs for ordering IsraeliPalestinian relations. In the short-term the most that we dare hope for is greater flexibility, albeit grudgingly, in the two respective bargaining positions and possibly a deeper change of heart over the longer term. Because, truth be told, it is only by default—signs of mutual IsraeliPalestinian fatigue mixed with sobriety and because of a bankruptcy of competitive ideas—that the theoretical search for a safe exit from the Arab-Israel labyrinth leads back to reconsidering yet again prospects for a definitive repartitioning of Palestine.24 And, most emphatically, not because it offers an attractive or particularly original and creative solution. Far from it. To recapitulate: Arab-Jewish binationalism comes too late, and Palestinian autonomy offers too little. An Israeli-Palestinian federation, on the other hand, is asking too much, too soon. So it is territorial compromise alone which offers any hope for peace soon. Which leaves still subject to clarification partition’s main geographical and political facets: the precise territorial lines of division and the exact political status of the copartitionists—one state and one nonstate “entity” or, as I suspect, two independent states side by side. Admittedly, there is no longer anything pristine about the formula of partition. As an answer it is more ugly than elegant. Therefore, as of now it is hard to find anyone, Arab or Jew, who is prepared to champion territorial compromise. Rather, both peoples are being pushed and dragged into accepting the formula. Parenthetically, in common with just about every other Middle East peace proposal ever floated, there is nothing quite so easy as to expose and belittle partition’s many flaws. Truth be told, a Solomon-like surgical cut, totally distancing Arab from Jew and Jew from Arab, is an impossibility in the context of Palestine because of what political geographers like to refer to as “man-milieu relationships.” No line of demarcation, however drawn or wherever drawn, can negate the overpowering realities. Of shared water resources, of interspersed populations in such mixed cities as Haifa, Hebron, Jaffa– Tel-Aviv, Jerusalem, and Nazareth as well as close proximity in rural areas, of the problem of access routes, overlapping attachments to Jerusalem and other religious sites, etc. These many practical, temporal complexities are what have always frustrated enthusiasts for partition, not merely ideological aversion or political resistance to the very idea of a territorial division in the abstract. And yet, would-be peacemakers time and again have found themselves thrust back upon partition as a political compass for defining the elusive peace settlement and future peace map. Probably because it represents the

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“least bad.” Also because its merit lies in at least satisfying minimum felt needs for separate Palestinian and Jewish self-determination in at least a part of the Holy Land. Equally important, once agreed to in principle by the respective sides, territorial partition opens the way for creative statecraft. By addressing subsidiary agenda items, such as the subtle distinction between political and security borders, extraterritoriality with regard to settlements, settlers, and land corridors, economic cooperation through separate economies, and, of course, not least, the special status of Jerusalem. All of these to be addressed through the give and take of diplomatic bargaining and under the partition rubric. In a word, Jamal Husseini’s line of “blood and fire” can only be stanched and the flames extinguished if territorial compromise is converted into a line of reasoning . . . and reason. Which leaves one final note of caution. Although it might well be the last peaceful resort, territorial compromise may not see full realization simply because partition makes little geographic sense in modern Palestine; it only makes sense politically. Once again, therefore, as in the past threescore years, it could be arrested anywhere short of full implementation, defeated by the impossible geopolitical and geophysical facts on the ground, but even more by extremism, by mean-spiritedness and a shortage of the commodity most needed to make partition work—goodwill. The basic equation is as simple as it is despairing. Palestine is where theoretical weakness confronts harsh reality. Falling back upon partition confirms that there really is no new theoretical ground waiting to be discovered or explored. So is the task of persuading Israeli Jews and Palestinian Arabs to accept some form of territorial compromise for the sake of a higher goal—peace, statehood, security—made singularly unpromising. This is due, among other things, to there not being expansive new, fertile, or uncontested ground to offer by way of “enlarging the pie” or in making the notion of splitting the land a more attractive, palatable proposition. Physically, there is little room for a dichotomous territorial compromise solution. Politically, on the other hand, if there is no room for a territorial compromise solution, then there may be no solution at all for the Palestine problem and thus none for the wider Arab-Israel conflict. That’s how stark the choices really are, how precarious the peace enterprise and how imperative that repartitioning Palestine be given due consideration. Above all, compromising Palestine in the near and foreseeable future must give closest consideration to the fundamental condition of Arab-Israeli mutual dependency. What I refer to throughout this study as partition plus or soft partition.

PART TWO

Facts on the Ground

Chapter 4

Within the Confines of Palestine

Two nations, between whom there is no intercourse and no sympathy; who are as ignorant of each other’s habits, thoughts, and feelings, as if they were dwellers in different zones, or inhabitants of different planets. —Benjamin Disraeli, Sybil (1845)

Those analysts who seek to explain the Arab-Israel conflict as an out and out political struggle have it only half right. We would do better to see it as the geopolitics of Palestine. Territorial compromise, as its name suggests, addresses the territorial dimension of ethnic conflict. The fate of partition-based constructs depends upon whether negotiators are as skilled at mapmaking as they are resolute decision makers. And whether they give geographic and demographic realities due weight when tabling their respective nationalist aspirations and political demands. Among these landscape realities: the nature and extent of the land to be divided, the different ethnic subpopulations resident on the land and their dispersal patterns, the natural resources located within a given territory and their allocation; also, what to do about particularly sensitive religious or historical sites. Of these intruding variables, certainly the most difficult for partitionists to solve is the demographic one. Here the contrast between 1993 Czechoslovakia and Palestine 2000, for example, could not be sharper. The Czech and Slovak “gentlemen’s partition” was made possible not because they are any more civilized than other peoples but only because a clean line could be satisfactorily drawn, which left ethnic Czechs only 1 percent of the population in the Slovak Republic, while Slovaks comprise no more than 3 percent of those residing in the Czech Republic. In most cases where national conflicts are thought to have been “solved” through the medium of partition, members of the rival nationalist group-

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ings are hopelessly interspersed, thus making a real parting of the ways difficult if not impossible without widespread internecine warfare, forced expulsion, and “ethnic cleansing.” Consequently, the partitioning of Thrace between Greece and Turkey (1923), India (1947), Palestine (1948), and Bosnia, to name but a few, not only involved significant loss of life at the time but left a legacy of hatred among those refugees uprooted and displaced. The historical record of such territorial separations is, to be sure, at best mixed. However warranted in the longer run, at the time they took place their short-term costs were appalling and seemed prohibitive. At one end there are large-sized minorities, ethnic pockets, and hostage communities left behind the jagged dividing lines. At the other extreme, large-scale population transfers. These poor demographic solutions ordinarily suffice to vitiate partition’s prospects. However, if maximum separation is designated the supreme objective, then an orderly and agreed population exchange, while difficult to achieve and even more difficult to carry out, cannot not be excluded from consideration. Any Middle East partition plan is going to be unbelievably hard to carry out, even with mutual consent, if only because demography is terribly mixed up with geography, just as the Jewish and Palestinian communities are themselves so hopelessly thrown together. But also because living together on the land has not meant growing together. Still, it should be possible to avoid the scale of inhumanity and violence typically associated with partitioning if human, political, and geographic constraints are given full prior consideration. Our feasibility study of partition thus shifts from partitioning in the abstract to (a) surveying physical characteristics of the area lying between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River, and to (b) situating the Jewish and Palestinian Arab populations. The Physical Landscape Like Gaul under the Romans, geographic, historic, demographic Palestine divides into three parts moving from west to east: Israel, the West Bank (cis-Jordania), and the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan (trans-Jordania). The total land area of Israel in its pre-1967 borders is 20,330 square kilometers (7,847 square miles). If we include the narrow Gaza Strip, and the rest of the west bank up to the Jordan River annexed in 1950 by the Hashemites but then forfeited by them in 1967, plus the entire east bank originally within the British Mandate, the total figure is still only 115,214 square kilometers (44,472 square miles)—roughly the size of Missouri.

6. The Middle East Regional Map

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TABLE 4.1. Land Area Square kilometers Square miles

Israel 20,330 7,847

Gaza Strip 360 139

West Bank 5,640 2,177

Jordan 88,884 34,309

Total 115,214 44,472

A second distinguishing physical attribute: this overall territorial unit encompasses regions of varying altitude and terrain, beginning with a relatively flat coastal plain along the Mediterranean (including all of the Gaza Strip), then rising to the rugged hills in the central highlands of western Palestine, including the east-west ranges of the lower and upper Galilee and the hills of Judea and Samaria in the West Bank. In the south the rolling hills of the northern Negev give way to the barren desert hills and mountains north of the Red Sea. Proceeding further eastward, elevation drops precipitously as we enter the Great Rift Valley (the Dead Sea region being the lowest place on earth not entirely covered by water). Still further eastward, the valley gives way to the eastern and southeastern desert plateau that comprises most of Jordan’s territory. The implication in qualitative terms is that much of this territory is arid desert: large parts of southern and eastern Jordan, Israel’s Negev region, and the Gaza Strip. The latter, sometimes referred to derisively by Palestinian critics as “Arafat’s kingdom by the sea,” is 55 percent or more barren coastal sand and dunes. Western Palestine, on the other hand, although comparatively small in size, nevertheless has significantly higher percentages of arable land suitable for agriculture. Which makes it all the more desired economically, and not only politically or militarily. Much of the coastal strip is highly suitable for farming, as are the valleys of the Galilee, both sides of the Jordan River and the western highlands of Jordan. The amount of arable land in the region has increased with the introduction of modern farming and irrigation techniques. Israel irrigates approximately 2,140 square kilometers (1,337 square miles) and Jordan some 570 square kilometers (356 square miles), with about 115 square kilometers (71 square miles) of land under irrigation in the Gaza Strip. In short, while farmland does exist to differing extents in Israel, the territories, and Jordan, water is nonetheless a precious commodity. Its control and equitable distribution constitute an acutely sensitive problem. Topographic realities in western Palestine in general have always had a direct and invariably negative effect on conflict resolution. Especially those peace initiatives like the 1937 Peel plan and the 1947 UN resolution that were motivated by the fair share partitionist principle. First, Pales-

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tine’s diminutive size, especially when restricted to the area west of the Jordan; second, the disparities between coastal, mountainous, and desert regions; third, the notable paucity of natural resources. These geographic determinants have had a major share throughout modern history in making the Arab-Jewish political contest for mastery over Palestine at once so restrictive, so disparate, and hence so ruthless and uncompromising. Nor will it be much different in the future. Even with war making replaced by “good faith” negotiation. Quite literally, and in the most physical sense of the word, there is precious little room for compromise. Unlike other forms of “collective goods,” there is only so much land and water to go around. This, even before making allowances for future population growth and economic expansion on the part of both the Israeli and the Palestinian communities. The most basic physical attributes of geographic Palestine, in and of themselves, cannot help but have far-reaching implications for the final status talks. How much real estate? Which land? Where? Of what fecundity and arability? Salinity? Strategic value or vulnerability? Indeed, territorial possession has long been at the very core of the dispute, just as it must now dominate the search for a solution. The Human Landscape The population within the original borders of the Palestine Mandate today numbers close to 12 million people. Of these, approximately 7.5 million are Arab (overwhelmingly Palestinian) and some 5 million, Israeli Jews. Focusing exclusively on western Palestine (Israel and the territories), the ratio is now approximately 5 million Jews to 3.2 million Arabs (again, mostly Palestinians). Jews and Palestinian Arabs in western Palestine live in the closest proximity to each other. Either in “mixed” cities like Acre, Haifa, Hebron, Jerusalem, Lod, Nazareth, and Ramle or in adjacent villages and communities throughout the Galilee, the Wadi Ara region, the Little Triangle, and parts of the West Bank and Gaza Strip. In addition, a sizable Palestinian Arab population lives to the east of the Jordan River. Ethnic Palestinians, for the most part refugees from the 1948 or 1967 fighting and their offspring, constitute well over half of the total Jordanian population. Estimates range anywhere from 50 to 65 and even 70–75 percent. But all such figures remain unconfirmed, given the understandable absence for many years now of an official Jordanian population census or questionnaire on this most sensitive question of perceived national identity and hence political allegiance.

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Statistics aside, our point is that the politics of demography are neither simple nor straightforward. In reality, the political lineup is not dichotomous (bad enough in itself) but rather triangular, thereby involving three geographic entities—“Israel,” “the territories” or “the Palestine Authority,” and “Jordan.” Also three national entities: “Jews,” “Palestinian Arabs,” and “Jordanians” (citizens of Jordan of Bedouin or native stock together with ethnic Palestinians identifying with the Jordanian state in national and not just civil terms). Paradoxically, there are no Jews permanently resident in Jordan and no “Jordanians” in Israel or the territories; there are, however, Jews in the territories and Palestinians in Israel, the territories, and Jordan. The rationale behind partition-based constructs is precisely that: to divide heterogeneous units—plural societies and multinational states—into smaller but also more homogeneous ones. And in this way, with one fell stroke, to promote three political values esteemed in the present era: social order, national self-determination, and political legitimacy.1 What necessarily derives from this is that as a policy partition must rest not only upon collective perceptions of national distinctiveness but equally firmly on hard demographic realities. Migratory and immigration flows, much like patterns of agriculture, land settlement, and urbanization in both eastern and western Palestine over the past century tended to reflect a combination of practical Zionism (creating facts on the ground) and Palestinian Arab social values. All five processes profoundly transformed the country’s traditional landscape. Yet they were entirely unplanned and unrationalized in terms of the country as a whole, its needs or absorptive capacity. Nor did they reflect demographic realities nearly so much as political agendas. Transjordan’s earlier detachment from Palestine and creation as a separate political entity served British interests. The struggle for Jewish statehood and improved borders in the event of an early partition of Palestine largely dictated Zionist settlement policy both before and after independence in 1948. So, too, thereafter did maintaining rather than eliminating the refugee camps serve Arab and Palestinian leaders. Similarly, post-1948 West Bank and Gaza Strip frontiers were improvised, decided by war, and inherently illogical, scarring the countryside with barbed wire while splitting families and even villages. Superimposing Land and People It is because of this flawed legacy that present demographic realities make a mockery of the existing demarcation lines between the three direct co-

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partitionists (at this stage one autonomous entity and two states), with the mingling and intermix of the two peoples foremost. As proof, the Palestinian people find themselves dispersed between three different political units. Some 2.5 million live in the West Bank and Gaza Strip,2 close to 1 million in Israel, and anywhere from 2 to 3 million in Jordan. And these numbers do not include the sizable Palestinian diaspora now scattered throughout the Middle East, Europe, and North America. Which already leads to one or two operative conclusions. Any territorial compromise based on existing borders means that the majority of Palestinians now living within the original mandate borders will not reside inside the proposed Palestinian state—even were that state to include the entire West Bank and Gaza Strip. Which means as well that partition will not magically convert Israel into a truly Jewish and homogeneous nation-state. A full 17 percent of the Israeli population (nearly one out of five citizens, or close to one-fifth) will still be Palestinian Arabs. At the district level Israel’s Palestinian Arabs tend to concentrate in a few areas where they form a majority or near majority. Large parts of the northern Galilee, Wadi Ara, the Little Triangle, and, of course, east Jerusalem are dominantly Arab. Of the latter sectors, the Wadi Ara, Little Triangle, and east Jerusalem areas are also geographically proximate to the West Bank. This, too, has to be kept in mind as yet another consideration in drawing rational partition lines, especially should the idea of territorial exchanges be adopted as part of any new territorial compromise. On the other hand, the Lake Tiberias region and the Jezreel and Beit Shean valleys in the north, the coastal plain from Haifa to Ashkelon, the Jerusalem corridor in the center of the country, the Negev and Arava in the south are mainly Jewish. Distribution patterns of the present Jewish population in Israel are a further given. The coastal strip, overwhelmingly Jewish, is home to 61.3 percent of the Israeli population and much of Israel’s industry; the Jerusalem sector (including west Jerusalem and Jewish neighborhoods in east Jerusalem) contains 12 percent of the country’s population. Taken together, nearly three-quarters of Israel’s population live in areas geographically contiguous to the West Bank, or to the Gaza Strip in the case of the southern edge of the coastal plain. Even these rudimentary demographic statistics further complicate map drawing since they underscore the fact that the bulk of Israeli Jews live practically “a stone’s throw” from the territories designated as Palestinian controlled. Which renders them highly vulnerable to terrorist action or other military provocations originating in the adjacent hills of the West

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Bank that hold a commanding position over Israel’s coastal strip to the west and the Jerusalem corridor south of Samaria and north of Judea. An Effective Presence: Israeli Settlement Yet a further complication arises from the fact that as of 1998 163,173 Israelis have chosen to make the West Bank their home, residing in some 120 settlements.3 This means that perhaps 17 percent of the predominantly Palestinian West Bank population are Israeli Jews (in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli settler community—6,166 people living in 24 settlements— comprises 0.6 percent of the population). In which case final status partition along the former 1967 “green line” would require either that these Israelis vacate their homes or else live under Palestinian rule. Neither option is acceptable to them at the present time, while the majority of the Israeli public continues to waver at least with respect to the notion of dismantling settlements in return for peace. The geographic distribution of these Jewish settlements, intentionally dispersed in a transparent effort at establishing an Israeli “presence” in all parts of the land, has achieved its deeper political purpose. Varying from self-contained communities clustered together, like the Gush Etsion bloc or the city of Ariel and its satellite settlements, to solitary and isolated outposts ringed by Arab villages, these settlements certainly render the task of a neat, compartmentalized partition difficult in the extreme. Short of blanket Israeli withdrawal from the territories, of course. Otherwise, formation of a geographically contiguous Palestinian state on the West Bank may well be predicated on inclusion of Jewish settlements— their numbers, size and growth potential subject to tough negotiation, to be sure—as a permanent fixture within the territory of that state. Unless adequately provided for in the final status accords this in itself bears the seeds for further discord: by creating a minorities problem, by leaving Jewish islands under Palestinian rule and by dissatisfying unrequited Arab demands for complete cultural independence free of Israeli influence. For their part the settlers will not only be asked to live in an Arab country and to coexist with the Palestinian regime but to experience their own dependency on a daily basis, as when passing through Palestinian-controlled areas and along Arab roads. Because so many of these settlers came to the West Bank for a combination of Zionist and economic motives, and surely have no desire to be residents of a Palestinian state, they understand how the redefining of final status borders must determine their own personal fate. So that in the

7. The West Bank: Map of Jewish Settlement

8. The Gaza Strip: Map of Jewish Settlement and Border Crossings

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event creation of a Palestinian state becomes inevitable they can be relied upon to pressure the Israeli government at least into insisting upon redrawing the borders in such a way that the large majority of settlements and settlers be formally annexed to Israel. Popular perceptions aside, this Jewish settler movement is far from monolithic. Subtle differences within the settler ranks become a significant factor when gauging the strength of domestic support for, or resistance to, any plan for territorial compromise calling for either (a) complete withdrawal, or (b) partial abandonment of those outlying settlements judged to be the least tenable politically and militarily. One index is the degree of ideological commitment to the settlement ethos. Israeli activists are motivated by a complex religious-nationalistpioneering worldview that regards the 1967 victory as providential and messianic, the territories as liberated. The West Bank especially is described in reverential terms: as the cradle of biblical Jewish civilization, as the land of the patriarchs, as divinely bequeathed, as the exclusive covenantal birthright of the Jewish people, as a sacred trust—and therefore nonnegotiable and non-returnable. As part of this philosophy, the act of settlement is itself seen as entirely consistent with the pre-state Zionist pioneering enterprise of settling the land. While the exact percentage of those committed to this ideology of settlement is unclear, some observers place the figure at 20 percent, others at closer to 40 percent.4 Irrespective of numbers, this element remains both visible and vocal in “manning the barricades” against the previous Labor government’s pro-Oslo policies. Even though constituting an important base of electoral support for the Netanyahu government, they are certainly not above criticizing it as irresolute on settlement expansion. Members of Chazit Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel Front) were increasingly outspoken at the beginning of 1998 in condemning the ruling coalition’s resolve to proceed with further redeployments as a betrayal of Zionist goals and a national tragedy. A second index for categorizing the settlers and their motivation is socioeconomic. Perhaps the majority crossed the “green line” onto the West Bank out of concern for an improved quality of life and in quest of open spaces and affordable housing. They can be found in relatively sparse Arab areas within commuting distance of the two leading metropolitan areas: inside a 20 kilometer (12 mile) radius of Jerusalem (Ma’ale Adumim, Gush Etsion, Givat Ze’ev, etc.) or in western Samaria (Ariel, Alfei Menashe, Kedumim, etc.) close to Tel-Aviv. Although allied with the ideological settlers in fighting against the loss of their homes, this group as

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a rule is taken to be both more materialistic and also more individualistic. Portrayed as less committed to the nationalist and religious vision of Israel rule and annexation, such people are therefore also seen as openminded and realistic enough not to dismiss compensation and resettlement as part of the price for a peace accord. A final category of settlers are those Israelis residing in the Jordan Valley who view themselves as different and apart by virtue of the fact that they inhabit an almost empty area (except for Jericho) of essential importance for Israel’s defense. Traditional supporters of the Labor party and also, most recently, the “Third Way” party, many of these people actually favor a territorial compromise with the Palestinians . . . as long as the Jordan Valley remains under Israeli control. One distinct weakness in all such arbitrary classifications is that no one knows the exact membership or strength of each group. Nor how individuals, families and entire settler communities might respond under different circumstances, as yet unknown, to government calls for evacuation and resettlement. Whether they will go quietly and resignedly as the price for peace remains an open question until put to the test. So, too, other speculations, including resisting eviction orders through all means, passive and political, at their disposal, such as lobbying to win a vote of no confidence in the Knesset against any government pledging to dismantle individual settlements or to abandon Israeli settlers to Palestinian rule. A third scenario: fighting back with violence and armed force against both Israeli and the Palestinian authorities bent upon implementing a territorial compromise that provides for dismantling settlements. Whereas trying to adapt themselves to living as a protected minority under Palestinian rule for the sake of upholding the birthright of Jews to live anywhere in biblical Judea and Samaria has been raised as yet a fourth possibility. Israeli Arabs: A Presence of Their Own Separatist constructs on the grand scale of secession and partition have as one of their chief goals putting an end to all forms of exploitation and discrimination—legal, economic, social, political. In other words, removing the classic minorities problem which in modern times has so flagrantly contradicted liberal ideals of equality and social peace. This goal is best served by one of two adjustments: cartographic or demographic. Shifting people and communities; or moving lines of demarcation. In other words, by revising territorial borders, or else through population transfer,

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so that in effect the respective ethnic and geopolitical boundaries more fully and most closely correspond to each other. From the standpoint of majority-minority relations and territorial compromise, therefore, the Israeli Jewish population in the territories clearly presents a problem; but then so too does the Palestinian Arab population resident in Israel. Some 150,000 Arabs remained within the State of Israel following the events of 1948–1949. Today, there are close to a million Israeli Arabs, their numbers swelled by the return of some refugees to their homes through family reunification plus a high birth rate and natural increase. Over the last two decades, in tandem with the PLO’s mounting success in promoting a distinctive Palestinian national identity and consciousness, the Arabs of Israel have been experiencing a strong, and growing Palestinian cultural awakening on their own part. One that could have serious longer-term political overtones inside Israel as much as between Israel and the Palestinian entity, while countermanding the call by both sides for clear political boundaries and lines of ethnic separation. Loyalty or disloyalty of the Arabs of Israel to the State is not the question here. Over the decades remarkably few Israeli Arabs have been convicted of endangering state security. Far more problematic, it seems to me, is why successive Israeli Governments have not the sagacity to go beyond verbal pledges of equality under the law by making equal rights, equal opportunities, equal schooling and equal living conditions Arabs and Jews alike a number-one national priority. If only to prevent existing inequalities, real as well as perceived, from providing the breeding grounds for Israeli Arab discontent, claims of discrimination and alienation. With the emergence of a Palestinian state a distinct possibility in the not distant future, it would be unreasonable to expect younger Israeli Arabs unhesitatingly to prefer closing ranks with their fellow Jewish citizens in creating a stronger “Israeli” identity. They might well see equal, if not greater personal fulfillment, cultural solidarity and closer group affiliation in their “Palestinian” nationalism, even if themselves not residing within the borders of that Palestinian state. It was precisely with this in mind that an internal memorandum circulated within the Prime Minister’s Office in August 1998 termed Israeli Arabs “a potential strategic threat.” As leaked to the press, it warned that Israeli Arab “Palestinian” nationalist activists might eventually press for formal annexation to the adjacent Palestinian territories based on the analogy of the Sudeten Germans of Czechoslovakia in the late thirties.5

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Already now rumblings of discontent can be heard among a more confident Israeli Arab intellectual and political elite. M.K. Azmi Bishara openly articulates demands for greater cultural and administrative autonomy within a pluralistic, binational post-Zionist Israel, and on the basis of parity. Bishara and others call for abolishing institutions like the Jewish National Fund and the Jewish Agency. They would revoke the Law of Return that confers automatic citizenship upon Jews entering Israel; and would even rewrite, or replace, the national anthem, “Hatikva,” because of themes from Jewish lore and history offending the sensitivities of non-Jewish Israelis of Arab extraction or Muslim religious persuasion. This talk of “a state for all its citizens,” in turn, has a psychological effect upon Jewish Israelis. It sets off their own insecurities at the gradual subversion not by frontal assault but from within of the “Jewish state,” and Israel’s replacement by a “secular, democratic” state in which Jews might end up finding themselves the tolerated minority, rather than the empowered majority. These accusations and counter-charges are further symptomatic of the fundamental uncertainties still unresolved after 50 years (no permanent allegiances, no fixed borders, no guaranteed trustworthiness). And of the heightened uneasiness among all Israelis, just like all Palestinians, and for that matter all Jordanians, the closer Permanent Status repartition looms on their political horizon. It appears for the present that few Israeli Arab citizens are so keen on Palestinian separatism that they are prepared individually or as a community to sacrifice the freedoms and Israeli living standards most personally enjoy in favor of living under a still undetermined PLO regime and economy. Yet neither can the possibility entirely be ruled out that some day, for whatever reason, perhaps incited by irredentist rhetoric demanding ethnic unification, Israeli Arab activists across the future dividing line might insist upon merging under Palestinian rule. Such an annexationist drive would pose a profound threat to Israel’s geographic contiguity, territorial integrity, physical security and, indeed, to its very state existence. Multiple Allegiances and Close Quarters Although enjoying Israeli citizenship and equality before the law, this sizable Arab minority (one-fifth of the total population) nonetheless still has considerable difficulty with the State of Israel’s raison d’ être as a uniquely Jewish homeland expressly designed for “ingathering the exiles” of

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world Jewry. Just as, we may add, the Jewish authorities have their own problems—of conscience and constitution—in reconciling the state’s special Jewish character with the egalitarian pledge to make Israel a democracy for all its citizens. There is some truth to the notion that with time Israeli Jews and Arabs have developed many shared cultural tastes, “levantine” behavior traits, values, and expectations. That these have been further cemented by common experiences—deriving from the very fact of shared physical space and proximity—such as indiscriminate Iraqi “Scud” missile attacks or random terrorist operations against civilian targets on the roads and in cities that have exacted a toll on Arab lives as well. And, third, that these commonalities help distinguish “Israelis,” Arab and Jew alike, from their respective “diasporas”: world Jewry resident outside of Israel and Palestinian Arabs outside the pre-1967 Israeli borders. However, these are still a long way from constituting any single national identity, allegiance, or emotional bond, especially when both groups retain intimate links with their non-Israeli compatriots. In a nutshell, this larger question of separate, multiple, or divided allegiances poses a serious dilemma for all sides: for West Bank Israelis as well as for Israeli/Palestinian Arabs. Neither the Israeli government nor the Palestinian Authority can realistically count upon achieving total separation between their respective constituencies, even were it feasible from an economic point of view. Add to this the emotional attachment of the members of each community to the land best symbolized by the many religious, burial, and historical sites dating back centuries if not millennia that dot a landscape now further crosshatched by modern battlegrounds and military cemeteries. However imaginatively, however conscientiously one pencils in the partition lines, complete, hermetic Arab-Jewish/Israeli-Palestinian disengagement is a practical and physical impossibility. This iron final status rule holds true even should an Israeli leader or government be prepared in principle to turn over to Palestinian sovereignty select areas of large and concentrated Israeli Arab population (assuming the latter’s enthusiastic consent) in exchange for territorial concessions on the West Bank.6 Or, about equally extreme on the spectrum of partition scenarios: even were said Israeli leader or government to agree upon the dismantling of every single post-1967 Jewish community on the West Bank and in Gaza as a prelude to full withdrawal from all the territories. Arabs and Israelis are far too geographically and demographically intertwined at present to permit achieving on the ground what in theory and

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on paper might sound like a moral and political imperative: an elegant, tidy, seamless disengagement. Consequently, were partition and separation nevertheless to remain fixed peacemaking objectives, the only other conceivable way for negotiations to produce dividing lines that make any sense is by inducing the two parties to agree to an exchange of populations. But here, too, prospects are dimmed because in general it is far easier to move borders than to shift large numbers of people from one place of residence to another. In the case of Palestine, prospects for human engineering on such a grand scale are doomed from the outset precisely because of this double veto. For peaceful population transfer to work, Israeli proponents of Jewish dominion over Eretz Yisrael hashlema (the “integral” or “greater” Land of Israel) would have to consent, in the first instance, to abandoning the Zionist proactive dream. And then lend their own hand to wholesale dismantlement of West Bank and Gaza Strip settlements. Given their ideological commitment and investment of thirty years, and with memories of the northern Sinai city of Yamit’s forced evacuation in the early 1980s still in mind, they are not expected to be willing accomplices or to give up without a fight. Moreover, acquiescence by the Palestinian leadership is a second, equal necessity, and it would be a profound understatement to describe such assent as implausible. Authorizing Israeli Arabs in the Galilee to uproot themselves and their families, to abandon ancestral homes and forfeit title to the land, to migrate in considerable numbers in order to relocate on the West Bank—each of these runs directly counter to the appeals for steadfastness against Zionist encroachment.7 On the contrary, the bedrock Arab position insists upon the exact opposite. It is Zionism and all Jewish settlement activity that are illegal, and it is for Israel to undertake total withdrawal from the territories. Whereas the Palestinian refugees from the 1948 fighting are the dispossessed and therefore the ones with a “right of return” to homes and property within Israel proper. All but unconscionable therefore their giving consent to the creation of newly homeless pouring into an already crowded West Bank and imposing yet another burden, at least initially, upon a brittle Palestinian economic infrastructure. Absent all three prerequisites—a clear ethnic delineation, enthusiasm for territorial exchanges, any incentive toward large-scale population transfer—the Palestinian side, too, will have to learn to live with certain

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realities. Premier among them the fact that, comparable to a majority of the world’s Jews residing beyond Israel’s sovereign borders, peace will leave the majority of Palestinians outside the narrower confines of the projected Palestinian state as well. This, again, even were the PLO demand for returning all territory as far west as the old 1948–1967 armistice green line to be met by Israel. Mixed Municipalities as a Metaphor An interesting case are the many existing towns, urban communities, and rural regional clusters where Arabs and Jews interact on a daily basis and in truly close quarters—at times almost literally living on top of each other. This ethnic mix further disabuses all blackboard exercises based upon a “hard,” iron curtainlike, simplistic plan of partition. Indeed, nothing better depicts this present condition of jointness—and its continued likelihood well into the future—than the mixed neighborhoods and cities of Israel/Palestine.8 To walk the streets of Jerusalem, to peer over the statistics on Arab urban residence within Israel, to drive from Kfar Saba to Kochav Yair through Tira, to look at the map of Hebron is to confront the stark reality of Arab-Jewish antipartitionism at the grassroots level. A demographic spread that knows no borders and that defies any rational demarcation.

TABLE 4.2. Jewish and Arab Populations in Mixed Cities and Towns City/Town Jerusalem Haifa Acre Nazareth/Upper Nazareth* Lod Ramle Tel-Aviv–Jaffa Ma’alot Tarshicha Hebron (West Bank)

Jewish Population 412,000 225,625 35,000 47,500 N/A 48,000 340,000 15,000 500

Arab Population 167,000 26,675 10,000 60,000 N/A 12,000 15,555 4,000 120,000

Figures, based on 1994–1995 data, are approximate. *Nazareth and Upper Nazareth (Natzeret Illit) are administered under two separate municipalities. Nazareth proper, the largest Arab city in the country, has an exclusively Arab Israeli population of approximately 60,000, which is expected to double by the year 2020. Nazareth Illit, on the other hand, has a different mix: 25,000 Jewish Israelis and 3,500 Palestinian Israelis.

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Clearly, all schemes for surgically separating one nationalist community from the other on the extended West Bank, or cis-Jordania, are reduced to the status of pipedreams. An Israeli world without Arabs? Or, vice versa, a Palestinian world devoid of Jews? Once prevailing conditions of geography and demography are interlaced with the politics of intransigence, otherwise innocent fantasizing translates into diplomatic nonstarters, pure and simple. This, we regret to say, is true even before the additional second layer of border questions and security factors are superimposed on the human and geophysical map of Palestine.

Chapter 5

Borders and Security

Many of the means by which a state tries to increase its security decrease the security of others. In domestic society, there are several ways to increase the safety of one’s person and property without endangering others. One can move to a safer neighborhood, put bars on the windows, avoid dark streets, and keep a distance from suspicious-looking characters. —Robert Jervis, “Cooperation Under the Security Dilemma” (1978)

Like modern-day international frontiers in general, the question of future Israeli-Palestinian borders is in itself paradoxical: narrow, confining, and yet also full of gaping holes. Narrow in peacemaking terms in that this single issue—the exact location and precise nature of the permanent borders between Israel and the neighboring Palestinian entity—is the absolute “bottom line” as to who gets what and therefore the very crux of final status territorial bargaining. Confining in the sense that there is very little to work with; as pointed out previously, conditions on the ground are highly inauspicious if the aim of partition is to achieve Arab-Jewish separation. Conversely, this same border question can be viewed as encyclopedic, since in one way or another it touches upon and envelops every one of the many other subsidiary issues forming the crowded Middle East peace agenda. Defensible Borders UN Resolution 242, which continues since 1967 to serve as anchor, inspiration, and operative guideline for all subsequent peacemaking efforts, expressly affirms the right of “every State” in the area to live in peace “within secure and recognized boundaries” free from “threats or acts of force.” Should separatist-partitionist solutions fail in the end to satisfy this security goal, then little of enduring importance will have been achieved.

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Certainly not the “just” but also lasting peace so many Israelis and Palestinians profess to seek. Nor is the diplomat’s task going to be made any easier by the difficulty in knowing scientifically what security means and when it prevails in other than subjective terms. Or how precious a commodity it is. Neither people yields to the other in its perceived insecurities. Once the PLO in the 1960s became disillusioned with pledges of assistance by Arab world leaders, both peoples never knew or entertained any other way than self-help, or zero-sum unilateralism, in coping with their respective security dilemmas. Moreover, the level of individual and group security Israelis can anticipate from internationally recognized frontiers profoundly affects their psychological environment. This certainly will color their predisposition toward compromise; especially at the critical moment in the future when they may be asked to make additional, possibly far-reaching political and territorial concessions as the price for peace and normalcy. In the case of the Palestinians, too, the final lines of demarcation still to be drawn by 1999 for the emerging Palestinian entity to all intents will determine the character of that entity, its capacity for independent self-rule, chances for statehood, and economic viability. The border question impacts much further afield. Together with its security component, it is certain to broadly affect Arab-Israeli relations, regional politics, and the Middle East military balance for years to come. How the Middle East peace map looks at the end of the day—when the bargaining is over and the legal peace instrument ratified—is thus really the heart of the matter. What, for example, will then characterize the landscape of western Palestine? A hard or soft partition? Partition, or partition plus, implying any number of points of cross-border contact? Open roads, open borders, “open doors,” and open skies, perhaps even leading in time to open minds and hearts? Or, instead, a terrain scarred by electronic fences, barbed wire, cement pylons, barricades, and exclusionary walls? Borders thus become the integrative factor. They serve to tie together all the individual components into a peace package that makes a comprehensive settlement also comprehensible. Defendable militarily, but defensible politically and rationally, too. Fitting Jordan Into the Israeli-Palestinian Security Equation In a category all its own is the future military and geopolitical relationship of neighboring Jordan—to Israel and to Palestine separately, but also within the Israel-Jordan-Palestine strategic triangle. Will Jordan throw its

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weight behind reinforcing the permanent status peace settlement? Is it likely to perceive its own interests, centering on regime survival and national security, as lying in closer alliance with Israel, based upon the past model, and against the threat of an all-Palestine takeover of the East Bank? Or, alternatively, in blunting any possible Palestinian thrust eastward by emphasizing East Bank/West Bank and Arab solidarity against Israel? Or, in yet another alternative, struggling to protect itself from both Israeli and Palestinian domination through studied neutrality and aloofness, leaving both stronger proximate neighbors to contend with each other? Even these few comments are enough to underline Jordan’s disproportionate importance for Israeli-Palestinian peace and security. So intimate and intricate is this trilateral relationship, and pivotal the balancing role of the Hashemite entity, that it prompts me to make a larger observation, tying Jordan to the permanent status peace process by way of its relevance for the security equation. One of my only reservations about the wisdom of the Oslo initiative in 1993, aside from its overdose of evasiveness masquerading as constructive ambiguity, was not its strategic direction in finally, belatedly setting up a Palestinian option, but rather its timing. As a lifetime student of the larger conflict, I had come to see two broader parallel trends— really, historical processes—at work. One is Israeli-Palestinian reconciliation, the other, clarifying Jordan’s internal composition as a Hashemite monarchy and its international status as a separate kingdom, or merged into a single Palestinian entity. For over four decades the latter questions heavily depended upon the strong leadership and clever statecraft of one individual, His Majesty King Hussein, whose reign, however, already gave indications, in 1993, of drawing to a close. Strictly from the standpoint of Israeli and Middle East regional security, my personal preference, then and now, would be to wait for the longer-term succession process in Amman to first work itself out before negotiating any large-scale territorial withdrawal from the West Bank with the Palestinians. And not in order to procrastinate or to avoid ceding territory. Rather because, even in the best of times and in periods of relaxed tensions, Israel has constantly had to closely monitor East Bank economic, social, political, and military developments. It is that much harder to know how Jordan, with its Palestinian majority and Palestinian refugee camps, will look or how it will function under Abdullah II, King Hussein’s successor. And because the order and sequence by which both historical processes take place can make a profound

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difference for Israeli security prospects as well as for the nature and durability of Israeli-Palestinian peace.1 I would not want Israel, for instance, to face a situation whereby, having left the West Bank and forward Jordan River positions, it might then awake to find an amalgamated East Bank–West Bank state under direct Palestinian rule, or indirectly intimidated by Palestinian threats of a violent takeover. A reconstituted state led, moreover, by militants pledged to liberate all of Palestine and not bound by either the Oslo or the permanent status terms of settlement. And one bent upon remilitarizing the West Bank as well as directly challenging Israel’s casus belli “red lines” doctrine by inviting Iraqi, Iranian, or Pakistani forces to set up “defensive” missile bases on Jordanian soil within easy range, however, of Israeli military targets and population centers. Least of all would I feel comfortable with Israel’s then having to confront any such altered strategic balance of power from a position of weakness and with the vulnerable “green line” as its revised political and security border. For these reasons, in 1993 I would have preferred reversing the Osloinduced strategy that, in effect, opted for transferring larger and larger increments of West Bank territory as part of the reconciliation with Palestinian nationalism ahead of, rather than after, the inevitable post-Hussein era. At the time this is being written, with King Hussein’s passing, the two processes are now once again running parallel. In later retrospect this may yet prove to be one of the few benefits (and even if more unintended than premeditated!) to be derived from having put off the permanent status territorial and other negotiations for so long. Clearly, proximity talks; and what transpires on one side of the Jordan River will directly bear on the other. Shifting Lines, Fixed Positions The Oslo agreement is at heart a partition-based construct and, as such, implicitly makes redrawing borders obligatory. However, in keeping with Oslo’s preference for opaqueness and phased negotiation, the 1993 accords did not go into the whole subject of the exact nature and location of the lines of partition. Deferred confrontation masked as constructive ambiguity made it possible, indeed advisable, to leave this supremely contentious issue for future clarification. And yet, since 1993, despite a string of crises and political standoffs, the lines of disengagement and repartition have begun to shift significantly. Israel’s sphere of territorial control has shrunk in direct propor-

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tion to the expanding zones of direct Palestinian dominion, starting with the twinned cities of Gaza and Jericho, then most of the Gaza Strip and urban portions of the West Bank, followed by Hebron, with a standing pledge of three more interim subphases (“pulses,” “redeployments,” or “pullbacks”) aiming at converting C-designated areas (under Israeli administration and security responsibility) to A status (Palestinian administration and security responsibility). Under the terms of Oslo 2 (the interim agreement signed in Washington on September 28, 1995) the West Bank was divided into three areas: Area A major cities—Jenin, Nablus, Tulkarem, Qalqilya, Ramallah, Bethlehem Area B towns and villages (containing 68 percent of the Palestinians) Area C unpopulated areas of “strategic importance” and Jewish settlement As of mid-1998 Area A represented 3 percent of the West Bank, Area B . . . 24 percent, and Area C . . . 73 percent. While the Israeli-Palestinian perimeter has been in flux, by contrast the respective core positions on (a) borders and (b) security remain unassailable. On the matter of future borders Israeli defenses are four-tiered. The front-line position championed by Menachem Begin and Yitzhak Shamir, and claiming Jewish sovereignty over the disputed territories, has since been abandoned. Former Prime Minister Netanyahu and his supporters still cling to Israeli residency anywhere in Judea and Samaria as a historic right and dig in their heels on the need for the Jordan River to serve as Israel’s abiding security border. Their fallback position, however, interprets the principle of “land for peace” liberally rather than literally and would settle for a West Bank repartition within the 50–50 to 60–40 range. So long as it might enable annexing settlement clusters immediately adjacent to pre-1967 Israel, control of water sources, and early warning outposts strung along the river. Should neither position be tenable, however, then a third stand calls for the most minor border adjustments, limited to no more than some 8 percent of the West Bank. However, should even this symbolic singledigit territorial compromise be unacceptable to Palestinians sworn to retrieving all of the occupied West Bank, a final line of retreat has already been voiced by the Israeli peace camp: dismantling Jewish settlements, withdrawing completely, and returning to the 1967 armistice lines. Sweeping concessions in return for peace now. In which instance the principle

9. The Oslo II Map [Areas A, B, and C]

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of territorial compromise is reduced to little more than tiny territorial and border adjustments; and even these conditional upon the mutual exchange of land by ceding portions of pre-1967 Israel to Palestinian rule. The official Palestinian line of battle in preparing to fight diplomatically over future borders as drafted by Yasir Arafat is unambiguous by comparison and firmly entrenched. Palestine’s final partitioning will only come about if conducted under the formula of “land for peace.” This is strictly interpreted as meaning Israel’s total evacuation of the West Bank, reactivating the 1967 green line, and creating an independent Palestinian state with Jerusalem as its capital. There is no fallback position, at least not one vetted publicly. At best there are a few scattered and unauthoritative Arab references to a “land for land” corollary, appearing to leave slightly open the possibility of symbolic territorial exchanges, but on condition of parity and reciprocity. One has the right to interpret the 1988 Algiers resolution by the Palestinian National Council on behalf of the state solution as acceptance of territorial compromise by virtue of relinquishing title to Ramle, Lod, Nazareth, etc. However, in effect, the Palestinian final status formula presently amounts to partition without territorial compromise—in the sense that there will not be any further concessions of West Bank land to the Israelis beyond the 1949 armistice lines. Border Crossings and Controls Wherever drawn, the final peace borders will still need to be guarded daily, and border transit regulated on an ongoing basis. Which comprises an entire peace agenda item in and of itself. Israeli sensitivities toward the east-west passages into Israel both from Egypt and from across the Jordan River are aroused in the first instance by the danger of elements inimical to the state entering the territories unscreened, proceeding from there to civilian terrorist targets inside Israel proper. Economics are a second consideration, for once contraband goods are safely smuggled into the territories, similarly, it is difficult to prevent them from entering and then flooding the Israeli market. For a combination of reasons Israeli authorities have always assigned high priority to exercising direct influence over the border crossings from Egypt to Gaza and from Jordan onto the West Bank. But the Oslo process did not expressly mandate establishment of a sovereign Palestinian state, only an interim autonomy arrangement for the Palestinians. For this reason, directly following evacuation of Gaza and

10. Jordan River Crossings

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Jericho, responsibility for the outer frontiers continued to be dealt with operationally, meaning on an ad hoc basis, thereby still dodging the twin political aspects of sovereignty and final borders. Basing themselves upon those clauses of the Gaza-Jericho Agreement treating areas under Palestinian control as remaining inside an Israeli security sheath, leaders in Jerusalem confidently felt border supervision could be negotiated without prejudicing the final status. But only so long as it was clear to the PLO that Israel would “maintain security control and supervision over the entry of persons, vehicles and weapons at all points of entry.” In the negotiation dynamic, however, the Palestinians made incessant demands early on for some semblance of authority over the border crossings. This led in February 1994 to insertion into the Cairo Agreement of a unique plan for dual supervision. This arrangement, hammered out in marathon bargaining, in effect provides for two wings at each border terminal. The first services Arabs residing under the autonomous Palestinian Authority or living in other parts of the territories, plus visitors, while the second processes Israelis and others whose destination is Israel or areas under Israel’s control. The role of Israeli security personnel stationed behind tinted glass or two-way mirrors toward Arabs and non-Arabs entering the Palestinian wing is to be as unobtrusive as possible. Also, the Palestinians enjoy symbolic trappings of power, such as a raised national flag at the terminal and uniformed police officers. At the same time, the arrangement still meets Israel’s conditions for having the final say over anyone entering or exiting the Palestine autonomy. This solution to the problem of safe border passages is an example of creative problem solving in which the craving for attributes of sovereignty by the Palestinians and Israel’s direct security needs are deftly balanced. This constructive approach encourages the belief that other security concerns can be addressed in a similarly businesslike and sensitive fashion. Yet past precedents are no guarantee of future behavior patterns, again, the closer we move toward confronting the sovereignty-security nexus. One should not expect the wary protagonists to be as forthcoming in the final round. Insecurity Blankets One underlying factor contributing to the uncompromising stances by both claimants on border adjustment, border policing, and land concessions certainly has to be the adverse conditions of physical geography discussed

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above. Objectively, “Palestine” west of the Jordan and ending on the Mediterranean seacoast does not encourage magnanimity. Nor does it assure security in depth.2 But, in addition to the spatial dimension, surely territorial intractability traces as well to basic attitudes; to feelings of insecurity/security that are essentially a matter of individual subjective perception. In which case what stands out in the Middle East is the cognitive gap separating the respective sides. For there is a profound dissonance between how Arabs and Jews (and for that matter, Turks and Iranians) tend to see (a) themselves, (b) each other, and (c) the balance of threat. Indeed, Israelis and Palestinians best epitomize the classic security dilemma. In all these years of togetherness they have not lost their underlying mutual distrust. Indeed, the opposite is true, with each petrified of and by the other. Forced to coexist in such close and confining quarters, and living with such deep trepidation—the Israeli parent of the terrorist’s bomb, the Palestinian child of midnight house searches—they all but vie for the dubious title of most threatened and least secure party. Palestinians both fear and resent Israelis as the more dominant, powerful actor in their bilateral central zone of conflict. Israelis reciprocate by professing anxieties that they, in turn, are vastly outnumbered and completely surrounded by a circle of Arab and Islamic countries still unreconciled to the Jewish state’s very existence. And who enjoy not only numerical and quantitative superiority but a growing arsenal of missiles, chemical warheads, and other modern offensive weapons systems. To which Arab world strategists promptly respond with their own expressions of deepening concern at Israel possessing an uncertified yet presumed nuclear monopoly. Quick to impart the most sinister motives to their opponent, and prepossessed by their own distinctive vulnerabilities, all sides live within a deep protective shell. They have been programmed to think solely in terms of disfavorable imbalances of power and worst-case scenarios. In direct consequence, at the level of national psyches and security perceptions they may actually be too afraid to signal even the slightest trace of flexibility, out of fear (thus adding to the list!). Fear that such a step will be seized upon by the opposing side as a sign of weakness, or appeasement. In this strained psychological climate the borders-and-security issue poses a formidable hurdle. Yet it is one that can no longer be sidestepped. Extreme caution is therefore advised. Do not underestimate the profound dimensions of the security problem in the final status talks. Two, perhaps three preliminary clues suffice as warning. The first are the lay-

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ers of sensitivity previously exposed during the tough negotiations conducted in 1993–94 over responsibility for supervising the exterior borders. The second are the official positions already staked out and part of the public record, making subsequent concessions—especially one-sided or asymmetrical ones—that much more difficult, both in terms of prestige (face saving) and outraged constituents. Certain to be a particular bone of contention, for example, is the north-south strip of the Jordan Valley. Military strategists in Jerusalem and Tel-Aviv regard this as the eastern gate to the land of Israel, but which Palestinians lay claim to as their eastern access to the rest of the Arab world. Third, like everything else involved in repartitioning Palestine, security poses almost limitless complexities. Any Israeli-Palestinian security dialogue, as we have already shown, immediately runs up against the bottomless nature of the problem. Indeed, listening to and following the discussion of security problems oftentimes seems surrealistic, sometimes futile and sterile, always circuitous. One reason is that each side’s stand on security comprises a mixture of concerns that are entirely well-based, but also fears that are both genuine and exaggerated and worries that are fabricated or groundless. Another reason for not being able to get beyond the security barrier in compromising on Palestine is the total absence of objective, professional criteria for defining, and for narrowing, the nature of what today constitutes a security danger to Israel and Palestine, Israelis and Palestinians. On the one hand, definitions of state security are widening to include environmental safety, control over resources, safety against sudden economic dislocation and the like. On a different plane, but in the same expanded direction, are a host of more distant, over-the-horizon threats, illustrated in the case of Israel by ballistic missiles launched at it from Iran. Risks of this sort magnify insecurity, while seeming, in the opposite direction, to trivialize the bitter arguments we have been witness to over the need for Israelis, or Palestinians, to yield a few percentages more, or less, of sovereign West Bank territory.3 On the other hand, longer-distant dangers and set-piece military confrontations between massive, heavily armed standing forces are offset in the Israeli-Palestinian context by such immediate and “low intensity” acts of hostility as throwing a grenade, setting off a bomb, blocking wells or roads, imposing curfews, or stabbing someone, Arab or Jew, indiscriminately. At the personal level, threats abound and strategic military balances lose their meaning. Under prevailing conditions of the closest physical proximity, porous borders, and perceived vulnerability to attack

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against one’s person, family, or property, what constitutes “protection” and what might qualify as “protective measures”? Not objectively. Not scientific, theoretical, or rigorous standards; but ones appropriate to Israel/Palestine. Of what real value are fortified border positions, formal treaty alliances or solemn security guarantees, and esoteric doctrines for strategic extended nuclear deterrence in a situation on the ground where anywhere up to one hundred thousand Palestinians, with or without valid entry permits, are able to cross into Israel on a normal day? When border police using state-of-the-art detection equipment are unable to inspect each vehicle entering or leaving? Or for that matter, when an Arab student resident in Gaza is disqualified from study at a West Bank institution of higher learning because he or she has been denied permission to travel freely from one destination to the other? Raise the subject of individual victims of terror or violence, however, and you are accused of lacking “strategic vision.” Conversely, restrict yourself to the Middle East balance of power and sight is lost of the very human dimension of security. Is there any wonder that security seminars devoted to Israeli-Palestinian security strategies and scenarios so often assume an air of surrealism? Of going around in circles? Or else they end up being exercises in futility: my insecurity is greater than yours. You possess more power than I. But then most discussions that have taken place thus far feature narrow presentations, one-sided perspectives, and unilateral prescriptions. They and their participants rarely get down to discussing each other’s fears and anxieties, let alone empathizing with them or placing them on a par with their own security concerns. Whereas maximum assured security, certainly under present global conditions, let alone emerging Middle East threats and the single most salient fact of Israeli-Palestinian life— close proximity, is only approachable through joint effort, coordinated problem solving, and a shared security burden. The wisdom of this caveat is strengthened by yet another intimation of things to come once the sensitive, thorny subject of permanent security in a repartitioned Palestine is pushed to the top of the permanent status agenda. The warning is found in unofficial and preliminary essays by Palestinian and Israeli security specialists known for close links to policy makers in the two respective camps. These formulations of the security issue more than amply clue us into the contradictory perceptions of what constitutes security and insecurity for each side as well as what remedial or compensatory steps might be taken to assuage both individual and reciprocal fears.

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Although writing in their private and unofficial capacity, these authors are sufficiently representative to warrant mention. And what they have to say at the level of specific security components exposes a gaping hole where the middle ground on common security ought to be. Palestinian Security Concerns In an important 1995 article in the British journal International Affairs, Ahmad Khalidi, former adviser to the Palestinian delegation at the Washington and Cairo/Taba peace talks and currently an associate fellow of the Royal Institute of International Affairs, offers a fairly comprehensive and unabashed Palestinian doctrine of national security. Among the main points he makes: • Palestinians’ security fears and concerns have been grossly undervalued in comparison with those of Israel, especially given the preponderance of power in the latter’s favor; • henceforth, Israeli and Palestinian security are to be treated on an equal footing; • long-standing asymmetries have bred “a profound and pervasive Palestinian feeling of insecurity” that can only be relieved by “a complete and final end to Israel’s military occupation and colonization of Palestinian land,” establishment of a national entity on Palestinian soil, and firm assurances against threats of military occupation, external domination, and hostile encroachment.4 Full attainment of these goals, according to Khalidi, requires three central components: self-defense, external reinforcement, regional linkage. He defines self-defense as the right of a Palestinian government to maintain “some element of a defence force” against (a) outside aggression and (b) internal subversion. As for residual Israeli concerns, he does not preclude bilateral verification and observation measures, establishment of a permanent military commission, and mutually binding commitments on nonbelligerency and the inviolability of borders. Only “total demilitarization,” he writes, is thus not an acceptable option from a Palestinian point of view.” External reinforcement, Khalidi’s second stipulation, calls for thirdparty enhancement of Palestinian security: first, through an external military presence under appropriate international supervision and, second, through “iron-clad” external guarantees of the postsettlement regime by the international community. These assurances would be issued to both

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Israel and the Palestinians, although their primary aim is “a lock-in mechanism that precludes Israeli revisionism” without posing a challenge to Israeli basic security. The essential third element, regional linkage, is presented as nothing less than “a Palestinian national security imperative.” By regional linkage the author really has in mind a regional security regime. Which, in addition to deterring “future Israeli attempts to challenge or undo” the terms of the peace settlement “through direct military action or compulsion,” would put limits on external arms transfers and indigenous production as well as enforcing “extensive and intrusive” observation and verification measures. Khalidi’s security package is offered as a test of Israel’s good faith and of its readiness “to overcome its ideological addiction to territory as well as its territorial security fixation.” A particular effrontery: “From the perspective of Palestinian national security, the maintenance of armed, organized, regular or semi-regular armed settlers in autonomous enclaves deep within Palestinian territory is patently unacceptable.” Khalidi offers a rather original security spin on the refugee problem in adumbrating one final demand. The “right of return” for pre-1948 refugees has a significant psychological security dimension, insofar as “the perpetuation of their predicament could lead to their alienation from the peace process, and hence their emergence as a dangerous source of post-settlement instability.” Khalidi’s treatise is brought here as fairly indicative of official Palestinian thinking on security. Also, his choice of wording notwithstanding, the author does make an attempt at evenhandedness, acknowledging some of Israel’s major concerns as well. Finally, the Khalidi piece, for all its efforts at scholarly and pragmatic problem solving, highlights more points of divergence than convergence. Since the article’s publication, moreover, Palestinian fears have been heightened. Above all, that the Netanyahu government, in power since 1996 and determined to reinterpret the Oslo commitments, could freeze the interim lines of jurisdiction, making them permanent. Which would leave Chairman Arafat titular “sheriff of Gaza” and the Palestinians in charge of scattered Bantustan-like pockets of land and people. Hardly the foundations for a viable state. The official Palestinian stand, in turn, has not only crystallized but become more self-confident and demanding, and therefore less compromising. This hardening of positions is expressed, inter alia, by insistence on parity, across the board, with Israel and an enhanced self-defense force virtually indistinguishable from a standing

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army, together with refusal to consider any kind of limitation infringing upon Palestinian sovereignty, neither partial demilitarization nor any form of Israeli military presence. Israeli Security Requisites A sense of mainstream Israeli thinking on the final status peace treaty’s security provisions can be garnered likewise from the writings of Israeli security analysts. The two selected as both knowledgeable and wellconnected to government and IDF sources are Ze’ev Schiff, respected senior commentator on military affairs for the Hebrew-language daily Ha’aretz, and Joseph Alpher, former deputy director of the Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, the Tel-Aviv University think tank. In a 1989 monograph Schiff gives a detailed list of Israel’s minimal security requirements during a transition period—of undefined duration— but also possibly beyond. He begins with renunciation by the PLO of intentions for the step-by-step liquidation of the Jewish state, as well as of the Palestinian “right of return,” with the refugees to be absorbed by the Palestinian entity and its sister Arab countries. Specific security-related desiderata include: • precluding the Palestinian entity from entering into any military alliance or from permitting the “stationing, transit or training” of foreign military or police forces on its territory”; • reducing the likelihood of a surprise attack against Israel by complete demilitarization of the Palestinian entity—save for a “strong police force” numbering “several thousand” men—without any time limitation; • the IDF to remain stationed “in several points” on the West Bank and Gaza; • air and missile early warning stations to be manned by Israelis within the Palestinian areas but to be operated at the end of the transition by Americans or by a joint team of Israelis, Palestinians, and Jordanians under U.S. command; • an outside monitoring regime to prevent violations of the agreement. Although written before Oslo, Schiff’s stipulations still largely reflect current thought in Israeli military and government circles.5 Joseph Alpher offers a further gloss on the Israeli security doctrine in two essays published during 1994 in the immediate wake of Oslo. Regarded as a political moderate supportive of Palestinian statehood, even

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he makes a number of stringent claims unlikely to elicit PLO consent, principal among them being: • a completely demilitarized Palestinian entity; • Israel retaining “for years to come” the capacity to move defensive forces to the Jordan River “in real time”; • physical detachment of the Palestinian entity from Jordan and the Arab world, with or without annexing territory. In effect, Israel is advised at the security negotiations to insist upon creation of a double security belt, based on the Jordan Valley as Israel’s security border, together with “a thickening of the Green Line at the most sensitive points.”6 Alpher makes his argument more explicit in a second, follow-up piece devoted to Israel’s ultimate security concerns, which then appeared in International Affairs. Echoing Schiff and the military establishment, he too calls for the introduction of demilitarized zones as a buffer between the two sides, perhaps with an international trip wire or verification presence.7 From a comparison of the respective positions it is readily apparent the two security doctrines do not dovetail on at least four counts. First, territorial adjustment. Khalidi, to be sure, finds any territorial claims by Israel beyond the 1967 line objectionable, whereas Alpher as well as Schiff, while differing over the exact contours, stress the need—Schiff’s term— for “corrections.” Schiff estimates Israel will find it necessary to annex a strip 2 to 6 kilometers east of the green line, to demand border corrections in the Mount Gilboa area and near Lod (thus expanding the airspace near Ben-Gurion International Airport), to expand in the Etsion bloc south of Jerusalem, on both sides of the northern corridor connecting Jerusalem with Tel-Aviv and the coast, in the Jerusalem metropolitan area, and in the area linking Jerusalem with Ma’ale Adumim to the east. In Alpher’s version, too, Israel is advised to insist on modification of the 1948–1967 border: expanding the Jerusalem corridor to the north and south, attaching the Latrun salient overlooking the airport, assuring a “foothold” in the foothills of western Samaria, protecting Jerusalem from the east, at Ma’ale Adumim, and maintaining “a presence” in the Jordan Valley. Second, demilitarization. The Palestinians adamantly oppose what Israel is holding out for: a neutralized, defanged Palestinian entity as the quid pro quo for consenting to evacuate most of the territories and possibly agreeing to an independent state. Third, the outer limits of the security sphere. Here, Khalidi’s preoccupation, and, by inference, that of Pales-

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tinian strategists in general, is with containing Israel, and within the narrow context of a two-sided Israeli-Palestinian equation. By contrast, the perspective adopted by Schiff, Alpher, and Israeli colleagues is broader, indeed, regionwide. Their calculus, and therefore rationale, for demanding Palestinian demilitarization and that Israel must have a forward security border at the Jordan River encompasses extra-Palestine threats—ranging from conventional through ballistic or chemical warfare to an Arab/Islamic nuclear option—whether from the direction of Syria, Iraq, or Iran.8 Fourth, denuclearization. Once again, the lines are sharply drawn. The thrust of Khalidi’s argument, backed by the declared positions of Egypt’s President Mubarak and other Arab leaders, is renunciation by Israel of its nuclear advantage as a contribution to regional stability. The official Israeli position endorses the principle of a nuclear-free Middle East. But such consent is conditional upon three frankly unrealistic preliminary safeguards. First, peace treaties with Israel contracted by all regional members, including renunciation of threats to Israel’s existence. Second, consent of the other parties to forego manufacture, deployment, or use of biological or any other unconventional weapons. And third, for added measure, Arab democratization, on the premise that democratic regimes do not go to war with each other. Yet a fifth indication of divergent if not antipodal Israeli versus Palestinian security perspectives is offered by their views toward the eventual role of the neighboring Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. In Khalidi’s extensive coverage of the Palestinian security calculus Jordan is conspicuous by its absence. He makes no reference to it as a factor.9 This, in direct contrast to the two Israeli security formulations, wherein Jordan is presented as the centerpiece in any effective trilateral security regime. For Schiff, Jordan “must be included” in the military section of any Middle East peace agreement, if only to ensure it “would cease to be a component of the ‘eastern front.’ ” Whereas Alpher couches the motivation in more positive terms, and would have Hussein’s desert kingdom perform multiple roles: regional buffer and collaborator with Israel in deterring Palestinian irredentism or any other provocative military adventurism through a classic geopolitical pincer. In either event, Israelis universally respect the monarchy, regard Jordan as pivotal, especially after the 1994 treaty of peace and cooperation, and assign it unique status. For the very same reasons one has to assume Khalidi’s omission does not owe to mere oversight; on the contrary, it mirrors latent Palestinian suspicion of Hashemite motives and the fear that once drawn into a security regime King Hussein’s successors might league with Israel against Palestine.

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Mirror Image: Israeli-Palestinian Threat Perceptions Security is, of course, closely related to the nature of the risk any international actor faces, with each type of danger posing different security implications and each requiring a distinct form of response. Taken as a whole, the territories present Israel with a range of threats, internal and external, with the West Bank separate from the Gaza Strip. Bordering Israel along 307 kilometers (184 miles), the West Bank straddles most of Israel’s population and industrial centers, as compared with the Gaza Strip, fronting Israel along only 51 kilometers (31 miles) as well as lying further from Israel’s urban industrial nerve centers. Indeed, any plan for linking the two areas by cutting across Israel from east to west through a network of air, rail, and land corridors gives birth to yet another potential threat (see chapter 9). One kind of internal threat a Palestinian state poses are low-level terrorist activities carried out in Israel’s heartland, but launched only a few kilometers away from the West Bank or Gaza. Conventional warfare, a second breed of threat, relates to the strategic importance of the territories, principally the West Bank, in terms of defending Israel from outside Arab attack. Threat 1: Terrorism The Palestinians in and of themselves do not present a strategic military threat to Israel in the foreseeable future. Especially if their prospective final status political entity, whether autonomous or sovereign, is neutralized through demilitarization and/or an Israeli-Jordanian military vise. Few question that Israel will make limited or full demilitarization of the West Bank a prerequisite,10 so there is no danger in the conventional sense of Palestinian tanks capturing Tel Aviv with Palestinian combat aircraft flying overhead. On the other hand, the street battles of September 1996 do raise the possibility of a guerrilla warfare capability on the part of armed Palestinian civilians and elements of the Palestinians security apparatus. Although serious, and a clear threat to the lives of Israeli civilians and soldiers, these are not existential threats to the State of Israel. Still, combating terrorism is difficult, and its obliteration, like international crime, all but impossible. With the establishment of Palestinian autonomy a new reality has been created. Today, most Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip no longer live under Israeli occupation. That the Palestinians could do a bet-

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ter job of policing their own population and preventing terrorist activities than the Israeli Defense Forces or the General Security Services was one of the basic premises guiding the Israeli team in the Oslo 1 negotiations. From Premier Rabin on down the feeling was that by lifting military occupation the mass support and legitimacy enjoyed by PLO extremists would be greatly weakened. Also, that self-interest would prompt the Palestine Authority to destroy the infrastructure built up during the years of the intifada by Islamic terrorists in order to (a) continue the process of Israeli withdrawal from the West Bank and (b) forestall any threats to the authority’s own standing from extremist elements. Subsequent events have exposed the flaw in this logic. It failed to take into account several important factors. That attitudes change slowly. That while Arafat has an interest in preventing terrorist attacks against Israel, he also wants legitimacy in the eyes of the Arab population, many of whom still view terrorist activities, even suicidal and indiscriminate bombings, as an act of patriotism. That he cannot afford to be perceived by Palestinians as a puppet of the Israelis. Also, that the controlled use of Hamas terrorists and armed violence can be an effective political tool and form of pressure in the diplomatic war of nerves with Jerusalem whenever encountering Israeli resistance toward further bargaining concessions. Conversely, Israel for the present still retains leverage of its own, pressuring the Palestinian Authority to combat terrorism through a mixture of threatened economic sanctions, like border closure, and incentives, above all withdrawal from additional West Bank territory. Presumably, a final settlement resolving all problems outstanding between Israel and the Palestinians would nullify the rationale for terrorism. Still, there is a serious problem with this premise once the IDF does withdraw under the terms of the peace accord. Were anti-Zionist hostility to continue because of religious and ideological opposition to a Jewish state on any Arab and Islamic soil, in the future Israel would still be in a position to threaten nonmilitary economic sanctions and the like. But at that point “hot pursuit” by an elite IDF unit into Arab towns, larger armed incursion, or full-scale reoccupation of the West Bank becomes a virtual impossibility from every angle and standpoint.11 Militarily, each would meet Palestinian armed resistance. Diplomatically, the United States and other international actors could not be expected to sit passively on the sidelines. And even domestically, in terms of an Israeli public wedded to peace and no longer prepared to endorse cross-border operations with the risk of an incalculable number of casualties, any one of the force

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options involves political risk taking with grave repercussions inside Israel. Threat 2: Invasion The Middle East has long suffered the reputation for endemic instability. While future political and military constellations in the region are anyone’s guess, Israel’s basic geopolitical features, and those of the region, are not. They are, rather, a given. For one thing, the West Bank shares a ninety-seven-kilometer (fiftyeight-mile) border with Jordan; the Gaza Strip, an eleven-kilometer (seven-

11. Close Proximities

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mile) frontier with Egypt as well as a maritime boundary. For another, Tel Aviv on a good day is perhaps an hour’s drive from Gaza and only twenty minutes from the West Bank, while west Jerusalem is but a few kilometers and a few minutes from the West Bank in three directions. It is not beyond the realm of the possible for these short permeable boundaries to be exploited by one or more of the neighboring Arab countries in another Arab-Israeli war. In this scenario military forces, including tank units, jet fighter squadrons, and missile batteries, could be inserted into the Palestinian areas—with or without official Palestinian permission, or merely tacit consent—thus favorably positioning the attackers to strike against Israel’s exposed heartland. Considering that the Gaza Strip adjoins the vast and largely demilitarized Sinai buffer zone, there is one major difference between it and the West Bank. An Egyptian expeditionary tank force sent to attack Israel would have to travel the entire breadth of the northern Sinai, which is close to 220 kilometers (132 miles) from the Suez Canal to the border of the Gaza Strip. This ought to afford Israel precious time to call up military reserves and to deploy its forces. Besides, any future Egyptian-Israeli war in all likelihood would be fought deep within the Sinai and not on the Israeli-Gaza Strip frontier. Which makes the strip somewhat less problematic in relative terms from the standpoint of an external military threat. The same cannot be said for the West Bank. First, the West Bank, as noted, lies astride Israel’s most important industrial and population centers as well as its most critical arteries of transportation and communication. The distance between Tulkarem and the Netanya coastline is only some 11 kilometers (a mere 7 miles), making Israel extremely vulnerable to being cut in half by an Arab military force descending from the hills of western Samaria. The Tel-Aviv–Jerusalem road as well as Israel’s international airport are also susceptible to attack from the nearby West Bank border, especially from the air. Second, the West Bank fronts on Jordan. And while it is true Jordan is at peace with Israel and does not, in itself, constitute a direct military threat, nonetheless, it does share borders with stronger, possibly predatory neighbors: Syria to the north and Iraq to the east. Each of them possesses powerful, modern armed forces possessing medium- and longrange offensive capabilities. Either state might intimidate Jordan into serving as a staging area for preparing an attack on Israel, as happened in 1967. Syria in particular, still finding itself blocked by a fortified Israeli military presence concentrated on the Golan Heights and a forward Israeli military presence in southern Lebanon, has the option of a flank-

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ing movement, moving through the Jordan salient in order to militarily threaten or possibly attack Israel in tandem with other Arab partners. Under this scenario Palestinian cooperation in allowing Arab League units to then enter onto the West Bank via Jordan would mean that Israel would be forced back upon defending Jerusalem almost literally from the city ramparts, and the Tel-Aviv metropolitan area from its eastern suburbs of Kfar Saba-Raanana-Petach Tikva. Especially if denied any forward positions along the Jordan River. It is not surprising, therefore, to find a great many Israelis not necessarily identifying with the nationalistreligious ethos of settlements and forward expansion yet wishing to see a strong IDF presence and more direct form of military control of the West Bank, perceived by them as nothing short of critical for the defense of Israel.12 On the other hand, the counterargument against Israel holding onto the territories and against presenting it at the negotiating table as absolute and nonnegotiable rests heavily upon the availability of technological alternatives. Sophisticated RPV remotely controlled pilotless vehicles, in addition to advanced sensors, whether ground-based or mounted on aircraft or from balloons, now make over-the-horizon surveillance of the future battlefield possible, and from a considerable distance. These electronic and computerized early warning systems are widely touted as offering real-time information that would enable defending forces either to preempt or to prepare defensively to engage the invader. The upshot of this thesis is that while the Jordan River should in fact be considered Israel’s defense line in terms of a threat from the east, it may not be essential for the IDF physically to occupy the Jordan Valley or even to maintain a standing military presence there. Reinforcement comes from two additional lines of reasoning. First, that with the velocity of missiles and the speed of supersonic jet fighter planes, holding onto the West Bank and/or Jordan Valley provides no real protection. Second, that in the last analysis the Kingdom of Jordan is in reality Israel’s first line of defense. Long-standing Israeli military doctrine corroborates this, in that any foreign military incursion into Jordan from any one of the neighboring Arab countries has always been defined as constituting a direct Arab violation of Israel’s declaratory red lines policy and therefore a casus belli justifying appropriate military countermeasures.13 Again, IDF strategic planning underlines the determination—predicated upon early warning and detection—not to wait for Arab forces to reach the West Bank and to tighten the “noose” around Israel’s neck in any repeat of the 1956 and 1967 experiences. Conceivably, new military tech-

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nologies can be incorporated into a permanent status military doctrine, alerting Israeli intelligence officers to provocative Arab military activities at the moment Arab forces cross the border from Syria, Iraq, or possibly even Iran into eastern Jordan, thus facilitating Israeli countermeasures well east of the Jordan River. For the moment, and for both reasons of antiterrorism and strategic defense in depth, Israel continues to insist upon exercising ultimate control over the Gazan-Egyptian frontier as well as the West Bank–Jordanian border. Threat 3: Sea and Air Yet a third security concern has to do with Israeli reservations about providing the Palestinians with extensive seaport and airport rights. Resting on the provisions of the Oslo accords as a legal base point, Israel retains complete control of the airspace above the autonomous areas in addition to policing waters off the coast of the Gaza Strip. Although the Palestinian police are entitled to a naval arm, it is essentially confined to coastal patrol duties within what the Oslo 2 accords refer to as Zone L (up to a distance of six nautical miles from the coast).14 The Israeli navy, on the other hand, bears exclusive responsibility for overall naval security, including the area between Egyptian territorial waters and Palestinian Authority territorial waters. On the air front, the Palestinians to date operate only several rotary-wing aircraft and must obtain clearance from Israeli aviation authorities in order to fly from one Palestinian province to the other. So that, in security terms, the Israeli air force has undisputed control of the skies, also extending to and above the two autonomous regions. Nor is this situation likely to change under the terms of the final settlement, if Israel can help it. Air power is singularly important in the emerging Middle Eastern electronic battlefield, and therefore Jerusalem will not willingly allow the Palestinians to build an air force or in any other way restrict Israel’s own ability to overfly the territories for purposes of training exercises, reconnaissance, and aerial defense. However, the Palestinian Authority, for its part, gives early indication of demanding its right to build a seaport and air terminals of its own in the future on the grounds that such facilities are psychologically important for the Palestinians. Sovereignty becomes meaningful when one can enter the territories directly by sea and air rather than via Israeli ports such as Ashdod and Ben-Gurion Airport. Symbolism and distrust likewise explain resistance by Arafat and his representatives to Israel retain-

12. The Proposed Gaza Maritime Zone

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ing any supervisory role whatsoever at these eventual port terminals comparable to the border crossings setup. Most ostensibly, because it would allow Israeli security personnel to “return” to Gaza and to operate inside territories formally under PA civil and internal security control. Expanding the seaport at Gaza and opening the Dahaniya airfield near Rafiah were discussed on numerous occasions in the years 1994–1998. But, with the two sides clearly at a diplomatic impasse, the issue is far from resolved. In the meantime, the airfield, built despite Israeli protests and without authorization, reached completion by 1998. Even once inaugurated, though, it is difficult to picture international flights operating in unfriendly skies without clearance from Israel. Threat 4: Transit Rights Incursions from air and sea, Middle East terrorism, and the lingering debate as to whether land will still contribute to in-depth security against the threat of invasion in the twenty-first century are certainly three issues towering over the peace-with-security agenda. Yet arguably no other topic more directly impacts on the nature of Israeli-Palestinian intercourse than the tangible expression given to the accepted international legal norms of “innocent passage,” “freedom of movement,” and “peaceful commerce.” For members of the European Union or residents and travelers along the U.S.-Canadian-Alaska transcontinental highway the act of transporting people and moving goods through another country’s existing state borders has become rather commonplace—an everyday experience to be taken for granted. Even permission for rapid deployment of security forces across frontiers in a situation of emergency, while more sensitive and complicated, is no longer regarded as out of the question. This is anything but the norm, at least for now (and conceivably for years to come) in Israel/Palestine. Already now the emerging contours of a peace map clearly indicate the need for a complex labyrinth of “safe passages,” “vital arteries,” and interlocking corridors between the two respective domains (see chapter 9). In the success or failure of this network lies the answer to whether Israelis and Palestinians are destined to form a single spatial and economic unit while insisting, however anachronistic in the eyes of others, on going their separate political ways. Or whether the goal of peaceful daily coexistence is nothing more than wishful thinking, without any practical basis in day-to-day reality. From an Israeli point of view open passages are of deep and abiding concern. If Palestinians should be permitted to traverse Israeli territory

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unsupervised, what protection is there against a determined Islamic terrorist breaking his or her authorized journey, for example, and entering Tel-Aviv instead to carry out a suicidal bombing mission? Earmarking one and possibly multiple existing roads linking Gaza with the West Bank has been proposed; alternatively, building a major new east-west artery intended exclusively for use by the Palestinians. Nevertheless, in either case very real, and practical, questions arise. How can such highway facilities be fully secured? Who is to exercise policing authority? And who will hold legal sovereignty? To be sure, the seemingly less objectionable option of constructing an elevated, extraterritorial superhighway connecting the territories has also been bandied about. In theory, at least, such a scheme has the obvious merit of allowing Palestinians free unhindered travel on their own autobahn-like roadway and yet assuring retention by Israel of full control over the ground beneath. However, not only are the costs considered prohibitive but the psychological effect is to laterally divide Israel. Moreover, it is now apparent that any final status settlement permitting Israeli residents and/or army outposts inside Palestinian-controlled territory creates a certain symmetry, or reciprocity, by making Israeli motorists and supply convoys themselves dependent on the Palestinian regime for assured safe passage. However, in the meantime no successful solution has been found to date for threats of interdiction, harassment, or simply abuse of the privilege of mobility. Common Security Being subjected to Israeli internal (“safe passage”) as well as external border checks is merely one symptom of Palestinian insecurity. Their overriding fear is that in the face of Israel’s local military preponderance the hoped-for Arab state will be entirely vulnerable: from brief “surgical” incursions by the IDF to reoccupation of the entire West Bank. Recognizing that Israel will strenuously oppose any substantial Palestinian militarization, certainly in the first stages of peace, they are therefore attempting to follow what appears to be a three-pronged strategy. Holding out for retrieving as much of the 1967 West Bank territories as possible is one thrust, soliciting outside security guarantees—whether from other Arab states, the UN, the Europeans, or the Americans, is another. While, at the same time, a third objective, modeled on the Shiite Amal and the Hizbollah in southern Lebanon, involves building up an arsenal of small arms, antitank weapons, shoulder-fired surface-to-air missiles, and the like, so

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as to be better able to mount an effective resistance against any new Israeli occupation force. As confirmed by events in September 1996, low-intensity (but by no means low-casualty) urban guerrilla warfare can inflict losses and slow the progress of IDF units. It would also provide Palestinian leaders the hours or days needed to organize a concerted all-Arab or international diplomatic offensive against Israel aimed at forcing it to withdraw. At the same time, Arafat’s own Palestinian administrators remain in a subtle interdependent relationship with Israel in defending themselves against such internal threats to their fragile authority as the Islamic Hamas extremist movement. Especially, one imagines, if dissident protest or an uprising should originate at one extremity of the Palestinian state and could only be put down by PA police forces dispatched from the other wing, but only with Jerusalem’s sanction. Israelis and Palestinians are thus each tormented by mirror-image threat perceptions. Extending the parallel, their declared bargaining positions on future border lines are also identical—which is another way of saying contradictory, by virtue of being mutually exclusive—and best summed up as “the more, the better.” Both sides have set out to acquire high levels of perceived security through maximum territorial acquisition and minimal territorial concessions. In which instance the mix of inducements and disincentives, fears and expectations may be conspiring to provide the makings—if nothing else—for a mutual insecurity regime. The great nineteenth-century English statesman Lord Castlereagh once remarked that the common purpose in Europe must be “security, and not revenge.” The question for late twentieth-century Mideast peacemaking is whether the hard-core Israeli and Palestinian positions on security are at all bridgeable. In this context the words of advice to NATO sounded by Russian foreign minister Yevgeni Primakov that the aim of a security charter should be to create a “common space of security without dividing lines” is overly ambitious and woefully premature.15 The poignancy of his observation is so much greater for our study. Unlike most countries bordering on each other, Israelis and Palestinians are not going to benefit from having miles of separation between them. Here, on the eastern Mediterranean, the immediate challenge lies in testing whether a common security structure can yet be built upon even the weakest of foundations.16 This, in order to begin reducing the disincentives, to alleviate the fears, and to achieve longer-term security through reconciliation.

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In principle as well as in practice there are probably only two approaches or stages toward confidence building and security cooperation. One is to stress limitations, as in disengagement, demobilization, disarmament, and the like. The other strategy is to augment individual national security efforts, with supplements taking the form of mutual reassurances, joint nonaggression pacts and defense treaties, international guarantees, or a collective security framework. In either case, the essential precondition has got to be a basic willingness on the part of both sides to (a) accept tradeoffs and (b) impose self-restraint. Otherwise, neither limitations nor supplements will be effective in the long run. Applied to the Israeli and Palestinian security predicament, “security for sovereignty” may be a more serviceable compass than “land for peace.” Admittedly, exclusive control over one’s borders, including the right to decide who may enter, pass through, and exit, is an important traditional facet of statehood and state security. Yet, as part of the price for peace this particular aspect of Palestinian as well as Israeli territorial independence may have to be waived. Or at least limited in the final settlement in order for them first to achieve in tandem both values: the national legitimacy that comes with formal sovereignty and a higher level of actual security. So, too, the Palestinians are probably going to have to learn to live with an Israeli West Bank security “shadow” over what Israel considers to be an integral part of its legitimate security sphere. Whereas Israelis, for their part, are called upon to gear their thinking toward integrating an Arab Palestinian entity into their security doctrine as no less a security partner than a security menace. To make physical separation between the Palestinians and Israel a prerequisite for security, as Prime Minister Ehud Barak has done, is a sheer physical impossibility, and therefore a nonstarter, politically and militarily.17 Rather, in addressing permanent status security-related concerns what becomes increasingly essential for both negotiating parties to bear in mind is that in today’s world neither sovereignty nor security are absolutes, merely ratios reflecting degrees of reasonable safety. It is these ratios that must now be transcribed onto the peace map.

Chapter 6

Fair Share: The Economics of Partition

In view of the limited area and resources of Palestine, it is essential that, to the extent feasible, and consistent with the creation of two independent States, the economic unity of the country should be preserved. —UN Special Committee Report on Palestine (September 3, 1947)

Conflict resolution theory, emulating developmentalism and the “guns or butter” argument against military industrialization, often presents defense and economics as competitive, certainly different social values. Historian Paul Kennedy goes a step further, posing the two goals as contradictory, with great powers traditionally trying to buy one, security, at the expense of the other, domestic welfare, only to overstretch their capacity. So, too, are security studies and business management invariably treated in academia as specialized, even self-contained disciplines, each with a language, a code, and a methodology of its own. More a matter of subjective perception than empirical observation, safety and security are unmeasurable and, therefore, eternally, maddeningly elusive. Whereas economic well-being would appear to rest upon hard statistical evidence: per capita income, GNP, export-import ratios, annual growth rates, and similar numerical indices. Seemingly, this quantitative data base should make standards of living and prosperity more readily verifiable than security—also easier to furnish in ending conflicts. Any xenophobic or moderately fervent nationalist will think twice before consenting to binding defense pacts, or before relying upon international guarantees. But what self-respecting Israeli, or Palestinian, is going to spurn liberal doses of international investment capital or other foreign assistance? As a political and diplomatic practice, partition is singularly notorious for ignoring the economic fall-out from splitting lands, nations, or states. One must resist the tendency, however, to compartmentalize these two

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realms: defense and economics. Likewise, the temptation to distance one from the other. For there is a great deal that binds them together. This is certainly true in Arab-Israeli peacemaking, where the links between defense and economics are nonetheless closer than meets the eye. For instance, in today’s world it is fashionable to speak of “economic security.” Similarly, economic satisfaction, material well-being, and international trade relations are presently seen as components of national security. Also, consistent with the overarching theme of this study—connectedness even in the final act of partitioning case-specific Palestine—because of the shared territorial dimension. Land and physical space still comprise the basic infrastructure determining Israeli and Palestinian economic health as much as national security. Similarly, the economic negotiations, including those covering resource allocation, are certain to be no less sensitive or fiercely contested than those over territorial adjustments and security arrangements. On such grounds alone, economic peace prospects are more bleak than promising. This somber assessment need not call upon super-sophisticated econometric models for validation. Suffice the simple and straightforward observation that the Holy Land, whatever its inestimable spiritual value, is a far cry—in temporal terms—from the prophetic vision of a land flowing with milk and honey. By any objective standard Palestine’s economic foundations are weak. Even if viewed as a single entity and one ecosystem, Israel-the territories-Jordan possesses few natural resources. It is not blessed, for example, with oil deposits. And while copper, phosphates, potash, manganese, and sulfur are present to some extent, these are hardly the strategic raw materials upon which to base a modern industrialized economy. Irrigable land is also at a premium. Water, now emerging as perhaps the most important natural resource in the Middle East, is also a scarce and contested commodity. Indeed, there is every reason to believe that water, its allocation and control, are going to be a key issue in any final bilateral settlement between Israel and the Palestinians, just as it already occupies a central place in the separate Israeli-Jordanian peace treaty. That there will not be enough of anything material to go around at the start of the twenty-first century is already cause for concern. Add two further economically dysfunctional considerations of a distinctly political nature. One, the exclusive and, in effect, exclusionary demands by each side for proprietary control over the contested area’s limited physical capital. The improbability of devising an acceptable “fair share” formula for an equitable division of both land and assets is the other.

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Again, purely from an economic standpoint, the declared interest of both communities (at this stage of the dispute) to cut the proverbial Gordian knot, to disengage physically and politically, and pursue independent nationalistic policies makes absolutely no sense. On the contrary, a course of unilateralism, if actually embarked upon, stands to be economically costly for everyone concerned. Which is further proof of the deeper affinities between security and economics. Any “new world order” advocate of jointness in the realm of defense and security is going to have a hard time selling the idea to Israelis and Palestinians. But neither is the very same integrative notion necessarily any easier to market in the field of economics and commerce, even though the argument and the imperative for economic collaboration among residents of geographic Palestine may be more compelling by far. It is difficult enough to sustain a single vibrant economy, let alone two, possibly even three autarkic economic systems, depending upon whether Jordan is included. So illogical and inevitably wasteful the economics of partition that already in 1947 the United Nations plan, treating the whole of the Palestine mandate as one unit, expressly called for political partition but with economic union. If anything, the argument for a concerted Palestine-wide economic community and a pooling of resources has greater resonance today than it did fifty years ago. But then rationality and a cooperative spirit have always been the rarest of all commodities in Arab-Jewish relations. Which is why the economic relationship could go either way: progressive or regressive. Where it ought to go is toward a special kind of connectedness: political division but economic union. The Porous Green Line Most of 1996–1999 was spent waiting for the final status and permanent boundary negotiations to get off the ground by getting to the ground, i.e., compromising on claims and partitioning the West Bank. Life, however, does not stand still. Even in the midst of the tactical maneuvering the interim phase managed to highlight some fascinating verities about symbiotic Israeli-Palestinian interconnectedness and interdependence. Many of these verities offer a portent of what the future has in store; indeed, they inadvertently strengthen the argument for partition plus. No greater insight can be had than from developments taking place along, over, and on both sides of the arbitrary line of demarcation dating to the 1948 cease-fire. And no message delivered by it is more instruc-

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tive than how this so-called green line distinguishing Israel proper from the similarly so-called occupied Arab territories and West Bank really stands for where geography, borders, security, economics, politics, and diplomacy do themselves meet and interconnect. Among those truths just alluded to I would begin by noting the green line’s arbitrariness. It has never had any basis other than where the Israel-Jordan armistice lines were drawn. Still, the green line served, however unsatisfactorily, as Israel’s temporary border until 1967. Thereafter, and until very recently, this line for all intents and purposes was thought to have been obliterated; permanently wiped off the map and destined to be replaced by more secure, and rational, demarcations. Either, ideally, by the Jordan River as Israel’s permanent political and security border or, alternatively, by a broad, generous territorial compromise shifting the final line of Jewish settlement and possession considerably eastward. Indeed, between 1967 and 1987 Israelis moved comfortably and freely across the discarded de facto partition fences. It now turns out that not only has the green line not been demolished but for many people it has been reinstituted as the line of separation. This includes a growing number of Israelis themselves, joined overwhelmingly by Palestinians eager to push back Israel’s physical presence, and by the international community at large as well as successive U.S. administrations. Indeed, the impression gains that, mutatis mutandis, the old green line could very well serve as the permanent line of repartition should Palestinian negotiators get their way and force Israel, and Israeli settlers, entirely out of the West Bank. Bearing these possibilities in mind, in the course of the last several years Israeli civilian, military, and police authorities increasingly admit their inability to seal off Israel from daily encroachments of one sort or another from West Bankers. In other words, even once redeployed west of the green line, for Israel this “seam” will be anything but seamless. One vivid confession of failure and illustration of just how porous the 324-kilometer-long green line is likely to remain is a painful rash of car thefts already plaguing Israelis. In 1997 alone over forty-six thousand motor vehicles were stolen and driven across the green line into areas under Palestinian jurisdiction, often with collusion between Israelis and Arab mechanics in cannibalizing the “imported” cars and then reselling expensive spare parts in Tel-Aviv.1 Projected figures for 1998 and 1999 show a further increase. Although brazen and costly in terms of automobile insurance rates, this phenomenon does not impact directly on Israeli security. Indirectly,

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though, the sense of vulnerability, only magnified rather than assuaged by government efforts at stanching this flow, ominously revives symptoms of the earlier national “fortress,” or siege, mentality, with Israelis once again feeling trapped—which hardly bodes well for postpeace security.2 Especially if Israeli-Palestinian security cooperation even on this seemingly secondary problem does not materialize or, perhaps worse, fails to provide minimal security. Economically, too, inability to close the seam, whether by unilateral or joint preventive measures, suggests IsraeliPalestinian illicit and criminal activity ironically may pay handsomely, while, conversely, perfectly legitimate joint enterprises might be discouraged for political or economic motives.3 Nor is any operational solution frankly in sight. Among the more serious, if costly and less than foolproof ideas: building physical obstacles in four areas, including ditches, sand works, walls, tunnels, safety railings, electronic devices, and fences, supplementing natural obstacles such as ravines and cliffs.4 However, the height of absurdity was the proposal by the minister for internal security affairs, Avigdor Kahalani, who threw in for good measure the use of detonating land mines as the ultimate deterrent against continued illegal cross-border activity.5 In addition, the government was asked to approve recruiting, training, and funding of an additional two thousand armed police and security forces to monitor the green line supposedly “separating” Israel, and Israelis, from the West Bank. Such measures, covering only 80 of the 324-kilometer seam, were likely to cost more than NIS 100 million a year. Each successive proposal has only made the situation of permeability along this projected “new” green line security zone almost as ludicrous as it is deplorable. Separate But Together Israelis and Palestinians have basically three economic paradigms to choose from: (a) interdependent, perhaps even closely integrated economies, (b) a separate Israeli and Palestinian economic existence, possibly modeled along the lines of the Czech and Slovak experience, (c) some intermediate form of parallel yet “open” economies that will enable cooperation in some fields of economic enterprise but not necessarily in all areas. Doubtless motivated by a combination of self-interest, unilateral advantage, and pride, Palestinian and Israeli leaders are as one in wishing, ideally, to strike out on their own. And yet there are a number of objective factors that cannot be sidestepped.

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TABLE 6.1. Gaza and the West Bank, Key Economic Indicators, 1993–1997 1997* 2,670 3,546 3,713 31.5 8.1 355.9 35.0

1996 2,554 3,233 3,438 34.2 7.9 335.8 25.1

1995 2,454 3,222 3,469 29.0 10.8 342.0 32.1

1994 2,361 3,077 3,463 24.7 14.0 328.9 53.0

1993 2,271 2,557 3,109 18.0 11.0 316.2 83.0

Population (m) GDP ($m) GNP ($m) Unemployment (%) Inflation (%) Palestinian workforce (000) Workers in Israel (000)

Source: Middle East Economic Digest, cited in IISS, Strategic Comments, vol. 3, no. 9 (November 1997).

The compelling logic of the situation will in all probability dictate the third option: a special kind of economic regime. A framework that facilitates bounded functional cooperation where necessary, and when mutually profitable, even while permitting political separation into two otherwise formally independent states. Not power sharing so much as resource sharing and developmental burden sharing. Nothing better captures this reality than the entry each morning of thousands of Palestinian day workers dependent for their jobs and livelihood inside Israel. Whenever security concerns dictate closure of the Gaza border checkposts the result is profound dislocation on both sides, leading to the spectacle of PLO spokesmen in common cause with Israeli building contractors, pressuring government authorities for a speedy return to the normal flow of traffic. Thus the argument for “separate but together” is compelling, starting with the fact that this pattern of economic relations has been in existence now for over three decades. The current intermingled economy began with occupation and administration of the West Bank and Gaza Strip in 1967. Not only were the territories affixed to Israel in military and political terms but the Palestinian economy was also increasingly brought into Israel’s economic orbit. Reminiscent of President Harry Truman’s prayer for a one-armed economic adviser, virtually every aspect of the entangled relationship has an “on the one hand” and an “on the other hand”; i.e., a beneficial as well as a detrimental side, both for the Palestinians and the Israelis. Example: the standard of living of individual Palestinians has improved markedly since 1967 because of unprecedented employment opportunities in Israel. In 1996 the average daily salary of a Palestinian worker was $12.50 in Gaza, $14 on the West Bank, and $23.50 in Israel.6 Not surprisingly, the number of Palestinians working in Israel rose overall from

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5,000 in 1968 to 70,000 in 1974, and 95,000 in 1986. By 1993 the numbers reached some 110,000, with an additional 7,000 laborers employed by Israeli settlements over the green line.7 However, the price has been undue dependency upon Israel and, to be sure, vice versa. Example: the main sources of income—anywhere from one-fourth on the West Bank to one-third in the Gaza Strip—originate outside the areas, either from Palestinians working in Israel or remittances from those living in the gulf states. These monies have largely gone to improve private housing, living standards, and purchasing power, especially of manufactured goods and consumer items imported from Israel and abroad, but have not generated any appreciable growth within the territories themselves.8 Example: in terms of collective opportunity costs, clearly, even a fraction of this capital might better have served to stimulate local businesses, industry, and modernization had the Palestinians been in control of their own affairs. On the other hand, Israeli manufacturers, expressing fears of unfair trade practices, argued that with the competitive advantage of cheaper labor costs a strengthened Palestinian economy might actually undercut their firms by offering Israeli consumers cheaper Palestinianmade products, besides undermining the marketing of Israeli goods and services to the territories. Example: this protectionist argument was regularly endorsed, in turn, by Israeli civil and military authorities. Regarding an independent Palestinian economy as a corollary to political claims, they sought to forestall Palestinian industrial growth by withholding licenses for projects duplicating or possibly competing with Israeli companies, so that by 1990 the total industrial plant throughout the territories was perhaps not much more than 1.5 to 2 percent of Israel’s national industry.9 Example: in agricultural output as well there have been restrictions on Palestinian development. After 1967 some 52 percent if not more of the total land area of the West Bank and Gaza Strip were brought under direct Israeli governmental control for purposes of settlement construction, highways, and military installations.10 Coupled with exclusive management by Israel of water resources on the West Bank, this policy too has limited Palestinian farm production, adding to the general picture of Palestinian dependence upon Israel in virtually every economic sphere. Postintifada Economics The 1987 Palestinian uprising somewhat reduced this stifling economic dependence on Israel.11 As part of the wave of militant protests, Pales-

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tinian activists imposed a boycott on Israeli goods, including food, cigarettes, soft drinks, shoes, and furniture. But because the Palestinian population had neither an industrial base of their own nor alternative sources of supply for heavy machinery, electronics, and other manufactured items, the sanctions were less successful in the long run. On the one hand, the intifada brought economic hardship on the Palestinians. In response to the violent protests, stone throwing, and anti-Israel terrorist activity originating in the territories during most of the nineties, the military curfews and economic closures imposed by the Israeli government resulted in fairly widespread economic stagnation. Most notable: the marked drop in capital liquidity and standard of living as Palestinians lost their jobs or had to compete with foreign laborers brought in by Israel from eastern Europe, Africa, and the Far East. The lesson is not lost. A large portion of the income entering the territories continues to be generated by Palestinians with work permits. Which still allows Israel to bring timely economic pressure to bear on the Palestinians, at times opening and at other times denying the Israeli job market.12 Yet, on the other hand, the intifada made its point as well. It gave local manufacturers and farmers the impetus to begin substituting for Israeli products. Industrial production on the West Bank rose by 9 percent in the initial stages of the uprising and by 13 percent during its later stages.13 Notice was thus given that the Palestinian community is no longer resigned to the passive role of “hewers of wood and drawers of water.” Events of the past decade certainly confirm the Arabs’ disruptive capability: to play havoc with Israeli harvesting, building, and production schedules, to increase Israel’s defense burden, to destroy confidence in the Israeli economy, to dissuade travel agents, international investors, and banking firms from assigning Israel a high rating. Which is the main point of this brief survey into Israeli-Palestinian Arab economic relations from 1967 to the present via the intifada. The conclusion is salient and inescapable: as of now both sides retain the capacity to neutralize and, should they choose to do so, to retard each other economically and commercially. Under the workings of this double economic veto, Palestinians and Israelis can continue to impede each other’s development, to inflict pain, deprivation, and inestimable economic opportunity costs. If the object is to satisfy some primordial need for retribution, then the price may be worth it. Otherwise, in immediate and policy-relevant terms economic sanctions and sabotage offer neither community any real hope.

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Certainly no prospect for getting on with the goal of improving the quality of life for their respective peoples. A Reason for Hope The 1993 Declaration of Principles gives further credence to the argument for a larger collaborative economic paradigm. For it goes beyond the existing mutual dependency, unplanned and unrationalized, legitimating the de facto situation as well as institutionalizing it. Conceding the Israeli and Palestinian economies to be hopelessly intertwined in several vital areas, the DOP mandates that the interim and prospective final status blueprints actually build upon these shared foundations. Pursuant to the DOP, the Protocol on Economic Relations signed in Paris on April 29, 1994, sets down actual guidelines for meaningful ties between Israel and the autonomous areas during the interim period. Subject to coordination with Israel, it grants Palestinians for the first time the freedom to determine customs rates, to establish a monetary authority for the purpose of regulating banks and maintaining foreign exchange reserves (with the possibility left open in the future for issuing a Palestinian currency), to undertake their own taxation policy, and to establish a social security system.14 In addition, the agreement specifically calls for joint economic cooperation between Israel and the Palestine Authority on labor, agriculture, industry, tourism, taxation, imports, insurance, and monetary policy. Moreover, under the terms of the 1994 economic pact Israel commits itself (1) to maintain import quotas on only five agricultural goods imported from areas under Palestine Authority administration, (2) to facilitate the free movement of manufactured goods, the establishment of a Palestinian tourist board, and PA licensing and supervision of insurance (with policies issued by the PA valid in Israel as well), and (3) to “maintain the normality of movement of labor” (including an Israeli pledge to transfer 75 percent of revenues from the taxed income collected from Palestinians employed in Israel).15 Consistent with the gradualist-functionalist approach, if fully honored by both parties, this formula ought to set into motion a reinforcing mechanism for encouraging still higher levels and forms of expanded cooperation propelled more by carrots than sticks. Again, if rational economic behavior by Israelis and Palestinians can be taken as the norm, then the incentives are certainly there. At which later point the argument of eco-

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nomic self-interest supplants that of economic necessity as the final, most formidable prop supporting the prescriptive solution of qualified interdependence. A common customs system, a single currency, a countries-wide communications and transportation grid bespeaking integrated postal, telephone, and telegraphic services as well as an interstate network of roadways and railways, a master plan for the rational utilization of airports and seaports—the list goes on almost interminably. Land reclamation, soil conservation, nature preserves, water and electrical power facilities merely hint at the potential for joint economic development projects. To cite one case in point: the labor market. It seems fairly clear that long into the future Palestinian day workers are still going to remain important for Israel while at the same time continuing to provide a primary source of income for thousands of Palestinian families. It now turns out that the emergency stopgap measure permitting substitute foreign laborers into the country has created a deeper problem for Israel: the presence of a growing Gastarbeiter underclass, with social, racial, and ethnic consequences similar to those Germany and other European societies are presently experiencing. Palestinian workers, by contrast, offer the advantage of commuting to work in Israel and returning home at night, without burdening Israel’s health and educational services. So that, while down from pre-intifada levels of 100,000–130,000 Palestinian laborers, nevertheless the number for 1996 still averaged between 30,000 and 70,000 per day. Furthermore, from an Arab standpoint the salaries and wages taken home from Israel and then either spent, saved, or invested in the territories enter the economic balance sheet as a plus, contributing, first, to the standard of living and, second, to political stability in the West Bank and Gaza. Tourism is another of these so-called peace dividends holding out unlimited economic potential for all sides. It is one of the sectors where Israel and its Palestinian and Jordanian neighbors share perhaps the highest degree of complementarity. And it also nicely illustrates how costbenefit analysis might work in combination with the ecopolitical imperative to underpin copartitioned Palestine. The Holy Land, writ even larger, and defined as further encompassing the ancient Near Eastern biblical reference points east as well as west of the Jordan River, is in a manner of speaking itself a priceless natural resource waiting to be exploited. It provides a “natural” attraction luring foreign tourists and pilgrims of all faiths and denominations. The more so if advertised and packaged by Israel, the Palestinians, and Jordan as a moving experience in a “zone of peace,” with visitors offered not only

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spectacular geological, climatic, and scenic diversity but a “bridge of civilizations.” Israel, and to a lesser extent Jordan, have long geared themselves for tourism, viewing it as an important contribution to GNP, domestic employment, and foreign exchange. Palestinians, too, are right to seek inclusion and to project tourism as one of their most promising areas for strong economic development. Other comparable examples where the fruits of peace and jointness might benefit both Israelis and Palestinians in the future include computer software, food processing, building materials, machinery, plastics, and clothing.16 The Economic Down Side Middle East economists demonstrate remarkable agreement as to the wisdom and the need for cooperation if politically partitioned Israel and the Palestinians are going to have even an outside chance at fulfilling their separate longer-term economic and national aspirations. And also any prospect at all of holding their own in a competitive global market that puts a premium upon innovation, interdependence, and regional integration. Precisely because it is so impressive and eminently rational, this logic of interconnectedness and its Middle East proponents dare not ignore pockets of resistance to change and to the very idea of “separate but together.”17 Nor can we afford to minimize the seriousness of parochial and even xenophobic nationalism’s hold over people, which traditionally tends to discourage cross-border cooperation in favor of trade barriers, tariffs, and other similar forms of discrimination. Some ten obstacles are certain to be encountered in converting prescription into actual Israeli-Palestinian economic practice. First, “ivory tower” game-theoretic blackboard exercises and complex economic algorithms are not readily applicable. They show a proclivity toward levels of abstraction while positing “rational actor” and “rational choice” models that do not always allow for “soft” variables such as an emotional, parochial nationalist sentiment that is prepared to sacrifice economic well-being on the altar of nationalism. Second, excesses of economic utopianism. Like the wave of new world order and “new Middle East” thinking after Oslo that gave free reign to premature flights of fancy about open borders, a Benelux-like Middle East customs union, an Israeli-Palestinian-Jordanian economic confederation and a free-trade area between Israel and its Arab neighbors.18 Clearly,

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there are no shortcuts or convenient detours in striving to go from pure enmity to partnership and trust. Especially because, third, the crisis of confidence between Arabs and Israelis still prevails. Indeed, prospects for functional, businesslike cooperation have yet to recover from the triple setback inflicted. By the intifada initially, then by the wave of violence in September 1996. And, more recently, by the decision of Arab world leaders to put multilateral conference decisions in favor of collaborative trade with Israel “on hold” as part of their quid pro quo diplomatic war of nerves in extracting concessions from the Netanyahu government on peace process–related issues. Just prior to the intifada there had actually been encouraging signs of spreading Arab-Jewish business contacts in Jerusalem and across the green line, even of business partnerships in auto repair, restaurants, tourism, and textiles. Now such otherwise praiseworthy jointness is unfortunately confined almost exclusively to nefarious enterprises. In yet another of Palestine’s supreme ironies, the principles for cooperation and the profits from collaboration are thus far best seen in the drug trade, prostitution rings, smuggling, and, as discussed above, car theft! Also, fourth, because economic convergence and true partnership are hardest to achieve in asymmetrical situations marked by extremes in basic power capabilities. Which is precisely the case here, where the two prospective partners begin from opposite starting points. The reader need only contrast the different levels of development, industrialization, and technological sophistication between the Israeli hi-tech and the Palestinian agrarian economies. For one thing, many economists take issue with the call for collaboration, arguing that the Israeli and Palestinian markets overlap, duplicating rather than complementing each other, and that, besides, Israel’s natural trading partners lie outside the Arab Middle East and Palestine—in North America, western Europe, and East Asia. Even then, to the extent proximity is conducive to economic good neighborliness, when dealing with Palestinian clients Israelis will have to guard against an air of condescension. Superiority or merely the impression of superiority on Israel’s part is likely to feed preexisting Arab stereotyped fears of Zionist imperialism and economic hegemony that are in themselves full of insight into Palestinian self-perceptions and feelings of economic inferiority, technological backwardness, and dependency on Israel. Fifth, economic separatism needs to be seen as a derivative form of a still larger political separatism that in the instance of Arab-Jewish Pales-

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tine has a long record of rivalry, competition, and unadulterated, “pure” conflict. In other words, the traditional politics and economics of exclusionism, premised upon narrow self-interest, have prejudiced nationals on both sides to see themselves as two peoples pitted against each other in a winner-take-all struggle. These attitudinal patterns are deeply ingrained; they will not easily be given up in exchange for a new value system keynoting “collective goods” and “fair share.” Moreover, it is a struggle made worse by limited, finite economic resources. Speaking of resource deficiencies re: Palestine, time and patience are in their own way a sixth and seventh obstacle. Restructuring, reeducation (the hearts-and-mind school of conflict resolution), and socialization toward economic collaboration are precisely those deeper and extensive processes that most require ample supplies of both time and patience. Yet asking Arabs and Jews to show forbearance is, like seeking an extension of time, certainly an option. But really more in the nature of a luxury—one that Middle East peacemakers can ill afford. There are simply no reserves of time or surpluses of patience from which to draw. In fact, impatience and the failure to receive instant gratification is one suggested explanation for expressions of disillusionment by both sides over the slow pace of the Oslo process in the initial years 1993–1997: by Israelis intent upon “peace now” and on the part of many Palestinians and Jordanians dissatisfied at the slow pace of their leaders in satisfying rising expectations and material demands attendant upon a peace with the Zionist state. An eighth economic concern traces to external rather than internal factors. Namely, the prospect that international private and governmental aid is going to prove a case of too little and too late. Reconstruction of the Gaza Strip, with its refugee camps, inadequate sewerage system, and unemployment, is, just by itself, a project of staggering proportions. It represents an immense undertaking that captures the imagination yet can only be achieved through a global consortium capable of mobilizing foreign expertise, management skills, and, not least, funding. But this is not going to happen. And not only because of Yasir Arafat’s questionable administrative talents. Billed as the premier forum for promoting regional cooperation and attracting international private and government investment capital, little of real substance has emerged from the publicized annual Middle East–North Africa (MENA) economic conferences held thus far under the aegis of the World Economic Forum at Casablanca (1994), Amman (1995), Cairo (1996), and Doha in Qatar (1997).

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Sad to say, potential investors are not going to wait for Israel, the Palestinians, and the Arab countries to get their act together in agreeing to minimal regionalism. Especially when so many pressing and no less worthy humanitarian causes exist around the globe. Also more promising formerly war-torn countries and undeveloped regions presently vie for world media attention, for America’s conscience, and for the limited financial assistance that is available internationally. And which probably offer much better prospects for handsome shorter-term returns on investment. The 1998 Asian financial and economic crisis has only made matters worse, both by reducing the list of wealthy donor countries and by some of these same countries, like Indonesia and South Korea, themselves becoming candidates for international bail-out efforts. Deferred Gratification Ninth, conversion to a peacetime economy does not come free. It will extract a heavy price; it calls for sacrifices from Israelis and Palestinians alike and is going to be accompanied by short-term dislocation. Since the existing Israeli-Palestinian economic structure has overwhelmingly favored Israel, the act of creating a new and more equal relationship will involve some painful readjustments for Israel. The need for accommodation means fostering rapid economic development in the postpartition West Bank and Gaza, after years of stagnation, and learning to live with an independent Palestine national authority that has given notice it will be pursuing a social and economic agenda of its own. Sharing rather than predominating is called for on Israel’s part, especially in the future utilization of water resources on the West Bank. When next applied to the Palestinians, the principle of mutual accommodation and reciprocal tradeoffs raises a no less sensitive albeit unavoidable question. Whether a Palestinian entity, even one declared to be politically independent, can be a truly viable economic entity given the fact that it will be sandwiched between Israel and Jordan, limited in size, and operating from a narrow resource base. More likely the post-settlement Palestinian Arab polity will be forced to acknowledge Israeli economic preeminence: to accept aid from any quarter, including the Jewish state, to operate in the shadow of a larger and more robust Israeli economy, and to strive for closer coordination with Israel. The price for the Arabs of Palestine, nationalist ideology aside, in short, involves somehow reconciling economic interdependence with political sovereignty. Possibly smoothing the way is the realization that under the present interna-

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tional economic system no state can be said to exercise 100 percent directorship over its economy and national economic policy. Tenth, and left for last, are recent experiences that caution against underestimating the terrible complexity of the economic-related peace issues. Few problems lend themselves to easy solutions; many, like the fate of the Arab refugees or water supplies, require both urgent attention and radical treatment. Yet the first rounds of economic talks held thus far both at the bilateral level and in the multilateral regional track are less than encouraging. While political economy may offer one set of conventions, Israeli-Palestinian economic politics have a set of their own, with little early evidence to indicate that either side has undergone a true change of heart and has turned to liberal economic theory. Surely refugees and water have got to be the two most outstanding— and contentious—topics. They also offer a depressing study in contrasts: the sedentary immobilism of the refugee camps versus the fluid liquidity and alarming evaporation of life-sustaining Middle East water. The Festering Refugee Problem Regarding the first, the manner by which the final status and fate of the Palestinian refugees are determined is going to have a direct bearing on Israeli as well as Palestinian economic development. Just as their exact number, dating back to 1948, is unknowable, so is there clearly no panacea for the refugee problem, however defined. More readily apparent is the vulnerability of the Palestinian economic institutions, which all but precludes large-scale absorption of the refugees in the West Bank or Gaza, at least not initially. And certainly not without a massive scale of Arab, U.S., European, and World Bank relief aid that may not be forthcoming. Although mindful of the symbolic importance of what the PLO claims as “the right of return,” this observation is dictated entirely by economics. When studies suggest unemployment rates of 50 percent by the year 2010, under prevailing and foreseeable conditions Arafat’s Palestinian Authority will have the hardest time ensuring a livelihood, decent housing, education, social services, and improved living standards for those already residing in the territories.19 Nor should Israel be expected to cave in on its long-standing objection to admitting substantial numbers of Palestinian Arabs on the refugee rolls for economic, cultural, and security reasons, by its own hand upsetting the demographic balance of the Jewish state.

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Over the long term, however, an incremental process of refugee absorption could have a beneficial effect similar to what Israel has experienced historically with its waves of immigration. Particularly if talented professionals from the Palestinian “diaspora” are attracted by economic opportunity or patriotism to take up residence on the West Bank or Gaza. Ultimately, though, the most promising approach is the one outlined above: an Israeli-Palestinian collaborative effort offering imaginative solutions that can only be implemented within a collective framework. Like putting together a package of measures combining modest refugee repatriation by Israel as a humanitarian gesture and admission of dual responsibility—along the lines of a family reunification scheme—with indemnification, monetary compensation, and the option of repatriation and resettlement under Palestinian rule for those in refugee camps in Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria or living in the Persian Gulf and elsewhere. The objective being, of course, to allow these people real hope in place of despair, a sense of permanence—a “homeland” in the literal sense, instead of homelessness—and the opportunity to get on with their lives. The Looming Water Crisis Sorely testing Israeli-Palestinian economic statecraft as much as the refugee issue is the question of assuring adequate water supplies. Of such overriding importance is water that the failure to come up with an agreement governing its distribution could jeopardize the final status talks in the same way that the breakdown in any negotiated water accord would endanger the subsequent state of peace.20 Preventing such a Middle East “water war” from originating in geographic Palestine already looms as a top-priority item on the partition agenda, thrust there by growing demands for irrigation and drinking water in inverse proportion to diminishing supplies. And, in addition, the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan’s long-standing claims to a full, equal share of water resources by virtue of being a neighboring riparian state. Within this trilateral construct Israel, Jordan, and the territories rely on but two primary sources of water, one being short seasonal rains brought in by the winter jet stream. The single most important and consistent source, though, is the Jordan River system, whereby the flow of water from tributaries located in Lebanon and Syria (making this a regional matter) discharges some 1,500 million cubic meters (mcm) annually into the Jordan River. While crucial, this is relatively meager by world standards— about fifty times less than the Rhine, sixty-five times less than the Nile, and four hundred times less than the Mississippi River.21

13. Hydrostrategic Map and the Yarmuk River System

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Subterranean water actually provides over fifty percent of the available renewable supply of drinking water for Israel and nearly all the water presently consumed by the Palestinians. The main groundwater basin of the region, the Mountain Aquifer, originates in the West Bank. Its waters flow in a westerly direction underneath the green line into Israeli territory, along the Mediterranean coast, or northward, toward the Jezreel and Beit Shean valleys. Israel (including West Bank settlers) utilizes nearly 80 percent of the waters in this aquifer, thus leaving the Palestinians with some twenty percent. A second aquifer, the Eastern Aquifer, both originates and discharges entirely within the West Bank, where, again, most of its waters are utilized by Israeli settlements.22 In general, the respective levels of current water consumption (including all three categories: irrigation, industrial, and personal use) show the average Israeli consumes approximately 275 liters per day—comparable to the European standard of 250–350 liters per person per day. Whereas Palestinian water consumption estimates tend to be considerably lower— ranging from 68–96 and 63–104 liters per person per day for the West Bank and the Gaza Strip respectively.23 And still water rationing is necessary. The situation is made acute by demographic projections showing a substantial increase in the Palestinian population in an atmosphere of peace and with any influx of former refugees. In which case, barring the development of alternative sources—a cheaper Mediterranean water desalinization process, for example, a peace pipeline extending all the way from Anatolia, or sea-borne purified drinking water transported by tankers or by Medusa containers from Turkey—the ratio of water available per person can only decline to alarming proportions. Nowhere is the water shortage more alarming than in the Gaza Strip. With a population of over two thousand people per square kilometer (0.6 mile), Gaza City and the surrounding land represent one of the most densely populated areas in the world. Its extension of the Coastal Aquifer has been overexploited for decades, resulting in high levels of salinity and contamination, leaving the strip and its inhabitants almost totally dependent on rainfall as their principal source of water. Already today the water situation in the Gaza Strip has reached crisis proportions—a crisis that, if left unattended, is guaranteed to worsen with time. Gazans currently consume 50 to 100 percent more water than the natural replenishment rate, thus causing a further drop in underground water levels and seepage of sea water into the aquifer.24 Israel has gone on record at Oslo as recognizing the need to replace the uneven distribution of potable water with a more equitable and ef-

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fective water conservation and allocation regime equally sensitive to legitimate Palestinian needs.25 But, at the same time, official Israeli policy treats the water question in pragmatic terms. Dependent as it has become on subterranean water supplies located beneath the West Bank, and with Israel’s population expected to double in the next thirty years, national leaders will not permit these waters to be diverted by Palestinians drilling wells immediately above the aquifers and claiming exclusive sovereignty. A way needs to be found to ensure against unilateral water exploitation and for Israeli access while negotiating fair share criteria. One possibility: Israel holding out for permanently retaining direct control over areas where these aquifers are located, and labeled vital for security.26 Tantamount to annexing substantial parts of western Samaria with large numbers of Arab inhabitants, this option is doubly problematic. Besides being unacceptable to the Palestinians, it makes a mockery of any pretensions for a “clean cut” separation and a rational partition. No less a stalwart opponent of territorial concessions from Israel as Ariel Sharon has come to realize that water supplies are humanitarian needs and, as such, “We need to divide the water equally.”27 Another possibility, therefore, is creating a bilateral Israeli-Palestinian administrative board (possibly even a trilateral commission that includes Jordan) to oversee the efficient use of water, to regulate distribution and patrol the aquifer sites against illegal drilling, while seeking cost-effective means for augmenting the available water supply. Assuming Israel’s priority is assured access rather than territorial control per se, and that the joint authority would actually exercise powers of enforcement, Jerusalem might find merit in the proposal, adopting it as the fall-back position and basis for compromise. Except that a Palestinian view of the water issue goes beyond hydrology and “just allocation” flow charts to “inalienable rights.” Hence peace sponsors should be prepared for the possibility that Israel’s endorsement of a joint water regime could very well be turned down by suspicious PLO negotiators, at least in the first round, as an infringement upon their sovereignty and territorial integrity and an attempt at continuing to deny what is rightfully theirs. This does not preclude broad agreement on a formula for equitable distribution, nor the creation, more specifically, of a joint water regime.28 What it does mean is that Arab-Israel peacemaking must take into account national sensitivities as well as water liquidity, in keeping with the politics of economics. What this single issue of water signifies, and as the heat and water crisis in the summer of 1998 poignantly underscored, is

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that predicted water shortages constitute a shared enemy and threat in coming years for all the people of this region. Water distress frames the basic dilemma—and the two options. In keeping with the traditional approach to international and interstate disputes, Israelis and Palestinians can go on telling each other, “I have my needs and my demands; you have a problem.” Or, citing the dictates of economic, physical, and climatic necessity, they can rise above the mindset parochial nationalism inculcates and begin the slow reeducation and conversion process in thinking of and addressing each other, along the lines of “We have a problem.” The choice is theirs, and theirs alone. But, then, the right to choose is what lies at the heart of historic Zionist and Palestinian Arab nationalism— the right to determine their own separate but now collective destinies. Economic and geographic imperatives dictate guaranteeing fair distribution of water quotas while improving the water distribution system and undertaking joint emergency steps to diversify and increase reliable steady sources of drinking water for the future. For Israeli and Palestinian officials to play politics with this liquid, trying to show who is boss and who dependent, is more than shortsighted and petty. In a very real sense, delaying on water is tantamount to playing with fire. But, rather than decoupled, discouraged, or denied, this economicspolitics nexus might well be utilized for peace-building purposes. Acute water adversity can and should be turned into an advantage. Everybody understands, and everybody needs, life-sustaining water. This single fact of life, if seized upon by respective leaders, offers the perfect soughtafter foundation for pragmatic, functional joint effort. Indeed, experts on the politics of water insist neither bilateral (Israeli and Palestinian) nor trilateral (Israeli, Palestinian, Jordanian) cooperation is going to suffice but that alarming projections of Middle East water scarcity dictate regional-wide coordination.29 Basing himself on the analogy that “if roads lead to civilization, then water leads to peace,” Shimon Peres, in and out of public office, has been one of the more outspoken prime movers in pioneering and selling the vision of a regional water policy that would call for a regional water regime managed by all affected (and potentially beneficiary) countries.30 Israelis, like Palestinians, must therefore be encouraged to bear in mind one powerful economic verity. Call it enlightened self-interest, economic opportunism, or whatever. But only by economic cooperation and coexistence is it possible for a partition-based peace construct, no matter how artificial and however inefficient, to be made workable. Rising prosper-

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ity for both resident communities is arguably the best guarantee that the settlement finally negotiated will ultimately be honored. Like physical, communal, and national security, economic growth can, and has got to be, redefined as “common” in the specific sense of sharing. This said, however, it remains true that, above and beyond “turf wars” and “resource wars,” the Middle East and Palestine in particular are known for their “holy wars.” The Arab-Israel conflict has its temporal and territorial side, but also its spiritual dimension. There are borders and land claims and water rights. And then there is Jerusalem.

Chapter 7

Jerusalem

Religious peace in Jerusalem is necessary for the maintenance of peace in the Arab and in the Jewish States. —UNSCOP Report (September 3, 1947) The City of Jerusalem shall be established as a corpus separatum under a special international regime. —UN General Assembly Resolution 181 (November 29, 1947)

Whether diplomacy and peacemaking are an art, a science, or both, no computer could possibly have devised a more challenging test of statesmanship than Jerusalem. In many ways it is a microcosm of everything that makes the Palestine problem so problematic, the Arab-Israel conflict so conflictual, and relations between Arabs and Jews so interconnected. And yet, Jerusalem is sui generis. It is a state of mind and a city, a matter of principle and a place where people live. This distinctiveness— even more, this duality—lies at the heart of its being at once fascinating and frustrating. On the other hand, its very uniqueness may be the key to unlocking the political enigma that is Jerusalem. A special case argues for a special solution. Two-Dimensional Jerusalem Judaism clings to a bifocal view of Jerusalem—shel maala and shel mata, the upper and the lower—the heavenly kingdom contrasted with the earthly city. This basic dichotomy serves to introduce the larger central theme of dualism, almost everything about Jerusalem is bipartite. For it is at once magnetic and antipodal. The very notion of bifurcation applied to Jerusalem may be unsettling for millions of believers who associate Jerusalem with unity and universalism. Yet this symbol of oneness has been transformed into the contemporary icon for division. A divisiveness at times extending even to bipolarization.

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There is a spiritual Jerusalem and a temporal, worldly, earth-bound Jerusalem. The ideal and the reality. The contemplative and the controversial. The seat of monotheism; the source for parochial sectarianism. The idealized image of a city of tranquillity and peace, of brotherhood, and religious ecumenicism; a zone of raw hatred, violence and the feared clash of civilizations. Jerusalem “the golden” and the sublime marred by scenes of abject squalor and refuse. What is Yerushalayim or Tsion (Zion) for Jews is Irsalim al-Quds al Sharif (Jerusalem the holy) to Muslims. An Israeli and an Arab Jerusalem; west Jerusalem and east Jerusalem, the “new city” and the “old city,” a “Moslem quarter” and a “Jewish quarter.” A Jerusalem of history and serenity juxtaposed against a bustling metropolis struggling to be modern and barely coping with urbanization. Perhaps a mecca for tourists and pilgrims but home to its permanent residents, so many of whose waking hours are necessarily spent contending with outdated drainage systems, construction sites, and road repair crews, inadequate parking, shopping malls, and urban congestion. Today’s Jerusalem offers a study in contrasts, overwhelming the visitor with visual signs of duality and diversity: luxury apartments and sumptuous villas but also slums. A city that is both two-dimensional and twodirectional. A vertical Jerusalem whose skyscrapers and building cranes draw attention heavenward, even as its biblical tunnels, ancient cisterns, and burial tombs point downward to Jerusalem the subterranean. And also a horizontal Jerusalem, expansive, summoning humankind to reach out, to soar above the mundane, that coexists uneasily with a bounded Jerusalem pulled ever inward by its Ottoman walls, warren of narrow streets, crowded bazaars, and bumper-to-bumper traffic jams. Physical and spiritual properties aside, once religious issues assume political overtones it is the political contradictions that truly cause Jerusalem to stand out. Arguably no other issue has as much potential for destroying peace prospects. Or for uplifting them. The more so since Jerusalem, besides its intrinsic importance for the final status negotiations, doubles as the epitome of a wider problem. Palestine undivided—Holy Land to three faiths—is singular for the great number of religious and historical sites dotting the country. If partition is fated to be the “cutting edge,” so to speak, the designated surgical instrument in (a) peacemaking and (b) mapmaking, by what key are these holy places to be parceled out? If sites held sacred by one people and faith are assigned to another in the act of drawing dividing lines, how, at a minimum, can freedom of access and worship be vouchsafed? Countrywide? In Jerusalem?

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Present-day Jerusalem, rather than constituting a united city, is at once divided and divisive. Whereas cement barriers may have cleaved it from 1948 to 1967, today it is reunited by law but divided by walls more imagined than concrete. The people of Jerusalem (421,000 Jews and 181,000 Palestinians), like the two larger Israeli and Palestinian communities, somehow need to reconcile living together . . . but separate . . . with the need to be separate . . . but together. As with each of the final status issues, the religious claims to Jerusalem and respective political bargaining positions need to be set out in considering whether the contradictory claims can in fact be reconciled. But even before the substantive options, a preliminary—procedural—question needs to be raised. Jerusalem First As a strategy for untangling the Arab-Israel conflict and getting a direct Israeli-Palestinian dialogue underway, the 1993 initiative has elements of genius. Having said this, there is still reason to query the longer-term wisdom—and utility—of choosing to begin with “Gaza and Jericho first” and working our way up to Jerusalem, in effect saving it for last. Why poison the atmosphere by prematurely raising the issue? is the argument most often heard in defense of this approach. “Best leave it for later” is enshrined in Middle East conventional wisdom. The premise being that even the future of Jerusalem, commonly regarded as “the hardest nut” of all to “crack,” must yield to pressure when peace will be so near at hand. By that time, with all other outstanding issues agreed upon, surely neither the Arab nor the Jewish side will wish to be seen by world opinion as the enemy of peace or to forfeit the fruits of peace. Given the fact that both the Israeli and Palestinian sides have made their bedrock positions on Jerusalem unequivocal, there is a calculated, extraordinarily high risk involved, however—to the point of rendering the entire current peace effort a sterile exercise!—in this step-by-step incremental approach that insists upon leaving Jerusalem for last. Public opinion surveys reveal an overwhelming Israeli bipartisan consensus: against redividing Jerusalem, restoring its pre-1967 status, or yielding to foreign control and in favor of its remaining under Israeli sovereignty as an undivided, open city and capital. Authoritative Palestinian spokesmen are no less assertive in registering an Arab counterclaim to Jerusalem under the principle of full Israeli withdrawal from 1967 territories. The city, including the Islamic holy places, is designated the future capital and seat of government of the state of Palestine.

14. Divided Jerusalem, 1948–1967

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In short, constructive ambiguity is nonexistent where Jerusalem is concerned. Official positions have been staked out with exceptional clarity, leaving little room for doubt—or for backing down. Which all but guarantees a diplomatic crisis in the future consistent with Jerusalem’s “splitting” personality. If in fact Jerusalem is nonnegotiable, what is there to gain from deferring the issue? Wouldn’t it be better to know now? And if it is negotiable, then there is something to be said for promoting it to the top of the agenda in order to benefit from the positive psychological effect such a Jerusalem protocol would inspire. Under the prevailing conventional wisdom each side is encouraged to dig in its heels out of false expectations and misplaced confidence that the more time passes the greater the prospects for getting its way. Especially when both Israelis and Palestinians are bent upon using the present interval to “create facts” in Jerusalem and its environs. Deferring the inevitable confrontation and equally inevitable hard bargaining only leaves each side that much more determined and also free in the interim to undertake unilateral steps. Local Israeli authorities and residents, just like Palestinian leaders and residents of east Jerusalem, repeatedly ignore the Oslo commitment not to adopt one-sided measures likely to poison the atmosphere or to prejudice the final status settlement while accusing the other side of provocation and bad faith. Of late this contest for control over the city has assumed the appearance of political house-to-house fighting. There is dedication. There is deviousness. And there is the list of casualties, one of them being rational urban planning, another the cause of converting the undeniable fact of interconnectedness into a mechanism for coexistence. Government ministries and city hall have adopted large-scale neighborhood housing projects and sweeping schemes for extending municipal boundaries outward to incorporate satellite towns under a “Jerusalem umbrella municipality,” all of which are intended to increase the city’s Jewish majority. Private philanthropists are quietly buying houses in the Muslim quarter of the Old City and in Silwan with the intention of having Jewish settler groups take up residence there, thus deepening the Jewish presence. This same steadfastness and stealth are exhibited on the Arab side. The Muslim waqf religious authorities adopt quiet measures consolidating their control over the Temple Mount area. Thus, too, sophisticated aerial equipment revealed that in the first two months of 1998 alone private Arab residents had built twenty-five hundred additions to existing housing or new buildings in east Jerusalem in direct violation of municipal housing and zoning codes.1

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Some of these actions are surreptitious, others authorized and executed in the light of day. But each is a political statement. Each is meant to serve possession goals. All of them are premeditated and flagrant—aimed at gaining if not the high ground then at least some more ground. Hence the spate of major recent flashpoints that have kept Jerusalem contentious and in the news: the Hasmonean tunnel opening, the Har Homa housing project, Orient House, building without permits and razing illegal dwellings, Silwan, and, indeed, efforts at redefining city limits. By the unwritten rules of urban political warfare in Jerusalem another few yards and dunams are esteemed as signs of effective Arab or Jewish occupation. They also afford an even better leverage point in preparation for the anticipated hard negotiations, which is really what the issue is all about. Given this mounting commitment, what assurance is there, really, that both sides will not back down now but will do so later? That they will consent to accept less than demanded for the sake of compromise—and peace? Indeed, the argument can be turned around. If there is such assurance and if peacemakers are convinced that (a) pragmatic, (b) workable, and (c) acceptable ideas for the governance of Jerusalem can be devised, then perhaps there is greater wisdom in addressing the subject sooner rather than later. Particularly when in fact any number of schemes for dealing with Jerusalem are already on record, some of them quite innovative and readily at hand. Working Within the Confines of Jerusalem The problem is not that we lack for solutions. Rather, it is Jerusalem’s proven capacity for arousing emotional sentiment of both virulent strains, religious and nationalist-political, precisely when what is called for are calmer heads and pragmatic problem solving. Absent this willingness to get beyond the emotional and the most practical blueprints will end up in the dustbin of Jerusalem’s troubled history. Bearing this in mind, one course nevertheless worth exploring borrows a leaf from the character of Jerusalem itself. Just as the city summons the visitor to peel back successive archaeological strata, perhaps the diplomatic equivalent is to separate the religious layer of issues from the municipal or administrative one, and the municipal from the political. This, for two practical reasons. Lumping the three layers together hardly encourages clarity but does make solving the one monumental problem truly impossible. Besides, sanctity . . . administration . . . sovereignty . . .

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these really are three distinct values, or functions. They clearly need to be met; but not necessarily in the same way, by the same agency, or for the same constituencies. The holy places must be protected as a sacred trust for worshippers of all faiths. The taxpayers of Jerusalem, Israeli and Palestinian, deserve the full range of efficient municipal services as a matter of civil society and good government. Whereas Arabs and Jews who comprise the two wider national movements are the ones insisting that affective claims to sovereignty in and over Jerusalem be given legal tangible expression. If Jerusalem is true to form, dividing and segregating even as it symbolizes oneness, then let this propensity toward forcing distinctions work for rather than against peace. Because they are going to prejudice the politically negotiated terms of settlement, a pragmatic “destratified” solution must begin with a realistic assessment of existing conditions. 1. Jerusalem’s Disputed Legal Status Palestinians insist Arab Jerusalem has the same status as the rest of the West Bank, indeed, that it is an integral part of the West Bank from which Israel must terminate its post-1967 rule and withdraw, while permitting the city’s Arab residents to vote, for example, in Palestinian Authority elections. Israel’s position is that Jerusalem has a different status from the West Bank. Following the Six Day War the Knesset enacted legislation unifying east and west Jerusalem under a single citywide administration, while also annexing and placing it under direct Israeli jurisdiction and civil law, in contrast to the West Bank, which was never annexed but kept instead under military rule.2 In 1980 the Knesset passed the Basic Law: Jerusalem Capital of Israel, reaffirming that “Jerusalem, complete and united, is the capital of Israel.”3 Despite attempts at convincing the world that Jerusalem is part of Israel, the international community still regards Jerusalem’s status as provisional and undetermined—as pointedly underscored by the fact that almost all foreign embassies accredited to Israel are located in the Tel-Aviv area. Neither UN Resolutions 242 and 338 nor the Camp David Accords refer to Jerusalem. However, at Oslo the Rabin government did commit Israel to accepting that Jerusalem’s ultimate status would be one of the subjects to be dealt with as part of the comprehensive negotiations and conceded that east Jerusalemites could vote in elections for the Palestinian self-governing authority.

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2. Jerusalem’s Reunification On paper the two halves of Jerusalem have long since been formally reunited and made seamless. But in reality there is still a “great divide” segregating entire neighborhoods, and separating Jews from Arabs. Israelis are careful to avoid certain sections like Wadi Joz, or proceed with greater caution than before the intifada, and no longer frequent Old City shops as much as they used to. West Jerusalem taxi drivers think twice before accepting fares to east Jerusalem’s Arab suburbs. So do Israeli municipal authorities experience difficulty in exercising effective control over all parts of the city or in enlisting the Arab residents’ cooperation. Orient House in east Jerusalem for all intents and purposes serves as a center of operations and patronage in defiance of Israeli authority, with deals struck there rather than at City Hall and many municipal services provided alternatively so as not to be beholden to Israel. In this constant struggle between Israelis and Palestinians for separate authority and greater control even the seemingly most mundane issues from garbage collection to tax collection invariably become quarrelsome. Everything in Jerusalem is contentious, everything bargaining, everything improvisation. Municipal boundaries, for example. 3. The “Gates of Jerusalem” As for Jerusalem’s city limits, the sky may be the limit! Not surprisingly, there is no single accepted definition or delineation—only mental maps. Debouching from its Jebusite core, the city of David (Silwan), and Temple Mount, and very much depending on the eye of its beholder, this “imagined community” par excellence stretches out to the north and west, reaching as far as the outskirts of Bethlehem to the south and Ma’ale Adumim to the east. Municipal boundaries were redrawn by Israel after 1967 to encompass nearly three times more territory and in order to allow for increasing the Jewish population while minimizing the number of Palestinians, thereby guaranteeing a Jewish majority.4 Parenthetically, that the city limits remain ill-defined, and really undefined, may actually give those concerned for “the peace of Jerusalem” a slight advantage in the sense of greater leeway when separating sovereignty from local government and freedom of worship. 4. Fictional Jerusalem Beneath the veneer of a unified Jerusalem lies the reality of a city that is and is not part of Israel. To probe deeper into the Jerusalem of 1997 is

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to encounter a no-man’s-land of gray areas and great uncertainty, of unwritten codes, divisions of labor, and authority. It is only through constant improvisation, crisis management, and veiled cooperation that daily life is somehow made bearable for the city’s Israeli and Palestinian cohabitants. In the face of a situation that is barely tolerable, every day that passes without an explosion, and without the city coming apart at its ArabJewish seams, borders on the miraculous. 5. Preserving the Status Quo Citing the Oslo agreement, strict legal constructionists insist both sides refrain from taking any unilateral initiatives in Jerusalem that might prejudice the present status quo and the city’s final dispensation. There are at least two flaws with this argument, one being that if the existing situation is so unpleasant, unnatural, and unacceptable to all parties concerned, what merit can there possibly be in consecrating the status quo? More telling still is the second counterargument. Asking to freeze the situation temporarily, but really indefinitely (or at least until May 1999), in a city of over six hundred thousand inhabitants is unrealistic and entirely impossible.5 First, there is the natural rhythm of daily life, change, and growth. Second, in this open-ended competition and war by other means, matching Israeli and Palestinian wits, offense is easily taken by seemingly innocuous actions, let alone illegal construction by Arab residents without building permits or foreign Jewish financiers bankrolling the secret purchase of Old City dwellings. Each side is quick to accuse the other of bad faith. Examples (up, down, and sideways): • in March 1997 a confrontation was precipitated by bulldozers sent to begin work on the Har Homa high-rise project to the south of the city that had severe repercussions both internationally and on the peace process itself; • shortly before, Israel’s opening in September 1996 of an ancient tunnel dating back to the Hasmonean era that runs along the western retaining wall of the Temple Mount in close proximity to the al-Aqsa mosque was denounced by Yasir Arafat as part of “the Judaization of Jerusalem” and sparked a wave of violence; • in June 1997 Jordanian emissaries were summoned from Amman at Israel’s request in an effort to mediate between the Muslim waqf authorities and the Greek Orthodox patriarchate over two disputed rooms joining the al-Khanka Mosque to the church of the Holy Sepulchre.

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Be it renovation of a religious site, selling or buying of real estate, or housing projects for young couples, steps seen anywhere else as signs of progress in Jerusalem are treated as flagrant violations of a status quo that is in any case untenable. Truth be told, none of the political or religious communities congregating in Jerusalem are that terribly interested in reaching out—only in pushing out. One city . . . but two ethnic communities, two nations, three faiths, any number of religious denominations, and two, possibly three, political contenders. With each clearly intent on expanding its holdings and jurisdiction by every means possible in order to better position itself for the next, and arguably decisive, phase. In short, Jerusalem’s decidedly nonstatic status quo is prejudiced above all else—even more than by the city’s past history—because of its pending final status. Hardly the optimal preconditions one might wish for in promoting a smoother, neater application of the partitionist principle. Indeed, one of the more policy-relevant rules of thumb ought to be categorical dismissal of any bizonal formula for Jerusalem. Returning to a physically bisected or dissected city is unaesthetic and impractical in equal measure, bringing more distress than relief—the geopolitically incorrect inference from King Solomon’s judgment in the famous case of the disputed infant. No artificial redivision. No status quo. No hegemony and no exclusivity. Given the three strata of contested religious, municipal, and political jurisdiction, three separate modular structures must be fabricated. Only then is there room for integrating the three tiers into a single Jerusalem peace superstructure. One that will answer the diverse needs of its several constituencies in different yet sensitive ways relevant for each. In the quest for a reasonable, as opposed to an ideal solution, disaggregation— although aiming ultimately at reunification—is the only viable strategy. Jerusalem’s Three Strata Religion, urban management, politics . . . sovereignty, society, piety . . . the local, the national, the ecumenical. Where to begin? Even recommending which of the three might best serve as cornerstone for the proposed edifice is in itself fraught with political overtones, as though indicative of a hidden political agenda. Still, the case is made here for putting city government at ground level. Because life is with people, the first priority ought to be making Jerusalem habitable for its permanent Arab and

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Jewish residents and then hospitable to the annual stream of pilgrims and visitors. Good Government Local government is meant to administer to the needs of all inhabitants and to provide municipal services ranging from sanitation and community playgrounds to housing and schooling. Quality of life can and should be disentangled and put above national politics. If assured of proper representation, Jerusalemites, whether Arab or Jewish, ought to favor the single municipality proposal as the most efficient in serving their individual, family, and neighborhood interests. Within the framework of a larger peace it is possible to imagine an entirely different, more relaxed atmosphere in the city that would encourage—and reward—accommodation and cooperation in solving practical problems of concern to the population as a whole.6 In general terms, two mechanisms applicable to Jerusalem and borrowed from other large multiethnic metropolitan areas like New York City or the Greater London Authority are the borough system of organization and an elected, representative city council as the highest decision-making body. Police enforcement, garbage collection, and park benches impose no arbitrary ethnic, racial, or religious distinctions, in the same way that industrial zoning laws and clean air standards are nondiscriminatory. This latter reference to zoning laws and air standards provides the opportunity to reemphasize what by this point in the analysis of repartitioning Palestine ought to be axiomatic. All issues are, and will be, amenable to solution if—and once—patterns of collaboration take hold in all Israeli-Palestinian bilateral forums. At the level of municipal councils and departments such cooperation translates into agreed environmental standards, a single standardized test for drivers’ licenses, etc. The obverse holds equally true. Absent consensus under a joint city authority for awarding building permits, for example, and the result is stalemate, depriving either side the opportunity for newer housing and communal development. In such cases, and given these choices, the logic of the situation actually argues in favor of tradeoffs, political dealing, and compromise. Separating “Church” and “State” If urban living is the ground floor of peace, and political sovereignty the top floor, then religion occupies Jerusalem’s second story. Here, a blueprint is called for that will best assure ease of access to the dozen or more

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Christian, Muslim, and Jewish holy places dispersed throughout different parts of the city but with particular density inside the Old City. Whatever form it takes, this prospective religious regime has to effectively guarantee freedom of worship and lend itself to such regularized tasks as financing the upkeep and restoration of these sites. Under these terms of reference there are essentially four “regimes” to choose from: exclusivity, the status quo (i.e., Israeli exclusive control), internationalization, joint supervision. Spiritual Autonomy Seen strictly in religious terms, the map of Jerusalem depicts a conglomeration of shrines, burial plots, mosques, churches, and synagogues. The logic of this situation thus suggests a deceptively straightforward solution based on the idea of religious autonomy. This would allow Israel to control the Jewish holy places and the Palestinians those sacred to Islam, leaving the local apostolic representatives of the different Christian denominations to exercise supervisory powers over the Via Dolorosa, Gethsemane, and similar east Jerusalem sites in the name of Christendom. But then the complexities intrude. Among them, shared walls and premises, common hallowed ground, overlapping claims, and, not least, rival claimants among coreligionists. Autonomous sectarian self-rule assumes physical separation of one shrine from another and a single emotional, metaphysical, or spiritual attachment of one faith per each site. Which is precisely not the case in Jerusalem and which makes the model for religious governance of Rome and the Holy See, for example, unsuitable. Enclosing two seventh-century mosques as well as the remnants of the Second Temple and several extensive archaeological sites, the Temple Mount, or Haram al-Sharif, is altogether illustrative. It confirms all four complicating factors in that it is also holy to both Moslems and Jews, with ultra-Orthodox factions in turn battling the Reform and Conservative movements over the style of religious services at the Western Wall. Not to be slighted, so too within both Christianity and the Islamic world there are strong internal quarrels regarding not just theological and doctrinal matters but legitimacy and the right to govern the holy places. Fierce custodial fights between the Copts and Armenians and between Roman Catholics and the Greek and Russian Orthodox Churches are very much a part of Jerusalem’s history and lore. Still to fully surface yet sorely contested within the Islamic and Arab “community of believers” is (a) which sect and (b) which country is the most qualified and authentic representative of Muslim claims to Jerusalem. Leading contenders: the Palestinians, of course, but also Jordan’s Hashemite royal house, tracing direct lineage

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to the prophet Muhammad, and, to be sure, the Saudi dynasty as Sunni/Wahhabi rulers in Arabia over Mecca, Medina, and the birthplace of Islam. Whose banner eventually flies over the Haram al-Sharif is plainly of far more than symbolic or religious importance; it becomes a matter of politics, power, and prestige. These considerations and complexities suffice to disqualify the simple, but therefore simplistic, solution of an independent and separate ecclesiastic authority for each of the three major religions. The (Israeli) Status Quo If not divided religious jurisdiction, and if only for the sake of helping to avert an unbrotherly inter- and intradenominational free for all, there may be some merit in perpetuating the existing arrangement. Arguments in favor: first, the second-story religious issue is not that obtuse and so should not be made unduly complicated. The overriding necessity is really only to maintain inviolate the sanctity of Jerusalem. Second, Israel, its successive governments, and Ministry of Religious Affairs has accepted before the whole world this solemn undertaking to ensure before members of all faiths free and safe access. Third, the present system for meeting the needs of the three leading monotheisms and for providing the adherents of each faith with the full inventory of ceremonial and ritual services has now been in effect for over three decades and enjoys wide acceptance. Fourth, Israel’s administration has spawned its own extensive institutional and procedural apparatus. In other words, there is already in place an entire structure for consultation with Islamic and Christian clerical authorities, for budget allocation, and for mediating disputes. Fifth, Israeli officials responsible for religious affairs are, in any case, under the closest scrutiny by the UN, the Vatican, Islamic groups, and any number of other governmental and nongovernmental international organizations. Sixth, this arrangement has worked satisfactorily well; under Israel’s supervision Jerusalem has enjoyed an era of remarkable religious tolerance, with hundreds of thousands of visitors moving freely within its walls and open gates. All that is required, so the argument concludes, is officially to deputize Israel to continue this enlightened interfaith policy. This argument, however, overlooks one salient factor. The de facto regime was simply improvised in the years after 1967. Neither the Muslim nor the Christian authorities have ever given formal de jure approval for Jerusalem and its holy places to be solely in Jewish hands. They may be willing to live and to work with the interim situation but for a variety of historical, theological, and political reasons are unlikely to accept this as a final solution, even in peacetime, or to grant the Jewish state a permanent religious mandate. Rather, each major religious grouping can be

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expected to hold out if not for its exclusive control then surely for either of two forms of shared religious responsibility. Internationalization It is conceivable that the search for a compromise formula could revive interest in the concept, long forgotten, of Jerusalem as a separate entity, a corpus separatum. In calling for a special international regime, the original UN 1947 proposal aimed at covering the city’s special character in both religion and politics. While there is obvious logic in linking the two spheres, “church” and “state,” it is equally conceivable, and perhaps more politic, to divorce one from the other; say, a special religious regime, but without necessarily attempting to evade the question of ultimate political sovereignty. And without necessarily defining here the exact nature or composition of such an international UN control group. Other than to note its virtues: expressing humankind’s interest and concern that Jerusalem remain an “open” city— open to people of all races and creeds, avoiding competitive and overlapping religious agencies unbeholden to each other, precluding unilateral control by any single state or “church.” Religious Condominium These same three ecumenical objectives might be served equally well, if not better, through a variant form of single religious authority and without inserting the UN or, for that matter, any other new intervening bureaucratic institution. Seemingly, a local interfaith consultative body rather than any outside agency might best administer jointly to the more specialized religious needs of their respective congregants and visiting coreligionists. Composed of Muslim qadis and the grand mufti of Jerusalem, Christian patriarchs and apostolic nuncios, the Israeli chief rabbis and other communal leaders, this greater Jerusalem religious council would operate under a rotating chairmanship and on the basis of equality similar to the proposed city municipal council. Religious condominium meets the criterion for shared rule and responsibility while occupying the critical second story between local and national jurisdiction. Indeed, a less charged religious atmosphere in Jerusalem might take the edge off the anticipated zero-sum struggle for exclusive political control. Whose Jerusalem? Finessing Sovereignty Assuming the city’s residents and religious can be appeased along the above outlines, there remain the two respective Israeli and Palestinian national elites, each contesting sovereignty. The political problem they pose is easily stated: How can the conflicting claims to sovereignty be recon-

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ciled in a way that is acceptable to each party and at the same time preserves Jerusalem’s physical and functional unity?7 There appear to be in essence really only four alternative “futures,” with options A and D representing extreme or “pure” solutions. Option A indicates an all-Israel outcome, with Israeli authorities exercising undivided sovereignty over the entire city. Option D is the mirror image, again positing a single sovereign, but in reverse, with the Palestinian state or authority awarded sole political title and control. Without prejudice to the respective legal briefs and historical arguments readily marshaled by either claimant, undivided sovereignty granted to one and accepted by the other is, under prevailing political conditions, an absolute nonstarter. Sole mastery over Jerusalem is a brand of exclusionary politics that is not only prejudicial to the larger goal of a peaceful compromise settlement but actually returns us, and the IsraeliPalestinian relationship, back to the dark days of mutual delegitimization. Besides, nothing in the world is going to make either protagonist voluntarily yield its claim. Arafat is on record as declaring, “East Jerusalem is Palestine’s historical, spiritual, and commercial heart. To exclude it from a Palestinian state is unthinkable.” Equally unthinkable is it for any Israeli government to back down from affirmation of Jerusalem as the “undivided capital” of the Jewish people, especially when Israel continues to house its seat of government and state institutions in the city. Not to belabor the point, option A, like option D, must be disqualified on any of several grounds. Option B, on the other hand, poses a compromise of sorts by recycling the formulas of internationalization and corpus separatum. In effect, what

A

B


100

100 Israeli sovereignty

Internationalization 100

100


50

D 100 Palestinian sovereignty
100

C
50 Dual control

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this says is that Jerusalem shall be the capital of neither Israel nor Palestine, with the Jews asked to relocate to Tel-Aviv, the Arabs, to Ramallah or any other West Bank town. Internationalization, however, offers neither side any real incentive. True, the Palestinians might be tempted for a moment to back such an initiative if only to get Israel out. Yet, other than a certain sense of satisfaction, this would gain them no benefit or standing whatsoever. Considering that it already exercises effective possession, Israel stands to lose even more and can be counted on to fight any such proposal. A clue to Israel’s likely opposition, and possibly to the Palestinians’ as well: called upon by the UN to place Jerusalem under a special regime, both Ben-Gurion and Jordan’s King Abdullah preferred to divide the city between them rather than yield all claims to a political status. What made the 1948–1967 de facto arrangement more amenable than the current Israeli-PLO case, of course, is that the Jordanians, unlike the Palestinians, were perfectly content, for reasons tracing to annexation of the West Bank, to retain Amman as their political seat of government. Still, there is a certain utility psychologically in confronting both present claimants with their less pleasant options. Plainly, Israel is not going to get its preference, option A, meaning Palestinian, Arab, or universal support for its suzerainty.8 Similarly, the Palestinians for option D. Hegemonic sovereignty will not work. At the other extreme, “scattered” or small-scale, diffused sovereignty over individual Arab or Jewish neighborhoods, enclaves, and pockets is quite absurd. Neither one has cause really to go out of its way in promoting option B. Which therefore only leaves, almost by default as it were, option C. Dual sovereignty. This formula argues that under existing circumstances the best way, and perhaps the only way, for finessing claims to exclusive sovereignty is by exploring some framework for sharing whatever it is that “sovereignty” means and whatever it confers. Dual Sovereignty Perhaps we can build upon King Hussein’s astute observation: “Jerusalem, the old Holy City, is above sovereignty.”9 A further slight opening for seriously venting the general proposition comes from Faisal Husseini, minister for Jerusalem affairs in the Palestinian Authority. In an interview published in an Arab daily newspaper in mid-1998, Husseini put forth his vision of Jerusalem as home to two capitals, in the east and west halves of the city.10 Also consistent with this call for originality and boldness in

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the conception of sovereignty new definition, there is the strategic and very detailed blueprint circulated in 1998 by the Jerusalem Institute for Israel Studies which, inter alia, offers three alternative versions: “functional sovereignty,” “joint sovereignty,” and “qualified sovereignty.”11 But in order to go any further with this proposal it is absolutely crucial that clarification be given to the following. Is what Israelis and Palestinians seek sovereignty over Jerusalem or in Jerusalem? The difference in the two formulations is profound. If the former, implying mutually exclusive 100 percent either/or control, then after all is said, done, and tried in the cause of Middle East peace, Jerusalem must be conceded as indeed tragically nonnegotiable. However, if the two rival claimants—and it must be both—will limit themselves to sovereignty in Jerusalem, then the smallest “window of creativity” is opened for creative statecraft. Dual sovereignty has two things to its immediate credit: it keeps Jerusalem an undivided city and yet the political capital of two states. Admittedly, one city serving as the seat of two governments is unusual in the annals of world affairs. This in itself hardly disqualifies the idea, however. The Arab-Israel conflict has long been a laboratory for constructive diplomacy. And, as argued above, a special case like Jerusalem argues for a special solution. Besides, the political and symbolic dimension loses some of its abrasiveness after Jerusalem’s daily needs have been administered to, and its religious sensitivities assuaged. Dual sovereignty has several things to commend it. In the larger sense, as great powers and nations everywhere are having to learn, seventeenthcentury Westphalian standards of statehood making independence total and sovereignty indivisible are today little more than a legal fiction. In the same category of fiction are claims by Israel to sovereignty over east Jerusalem Arabs whose allegiance, whatever else, does not belong to the Zionist state. Besides, permitting Jerusalem’s Arabs to be part of the interim autonomy scheme has already created a de facto change in the status of the eastern part of the city: from an integral part of the State of Israel to an area more closely associated with the Palestinian entity. This in itself already constitutes an important departure from the previous Israeli position. “Authority,” “control,” “jurisdiction”—these express at best degrees of sovereignty. Attributes, not absolutes. Shared sovereignty for Jerusalem thus has no business being presented at the negotiating table as a humiliating retreat by Israelis and Palestinians from international norms but rather a ringing confirmation of this new reality. In addition to being both

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novel and constructive, this approach focuses away from sovereignty in the abstract to its more tangible symbols and trappings. I might add, anticipating some of the criticism, especially from Israeli quarters, there is nothing in the dual-sovereignty formula that contravenes the well-known consensus among Israeli Jews, and world Jewry at large, that insists upon Jerusalem as their “eternal, undivided capital” or, as often alternatively formulated: “the united and eternal capital of Israel.” All barriers, psychological no less than physical, would be removed. Neither would the Palestinians be exclusively sovereign over Jerusalem. Instead, two flags would wave over different parts of Jerusalem; so would there be two seats of government, with Israeli and Palestinian ministries located not far from each other. This proximity actually ought to enable a closer degree of intergovernment consultation and policy coordination than exists between any other two nations. A united Jerusalem also provides the perfect venue for foreign legations; ambassadors duly accredited to both countries would add a nice touch to the city’s special aura. Moreover, under this dual sovereignty Jerusalem’s Arab and Jewish residents would be respectively Palestinian and Israeli citizens in the fullest sense, eligible for office and voting in national elections while doubtless having to pay taxes nationally as well as to the municipal authority. There are, to be sure, a myriad of details needing to be fleshed out, among them, How far west the Palestinian sovereign enclave or zone should extend? How far east Israeli sovereignty? The manner and degree by which Israelis and Palestinians might pass through these respective zones? Whether passport and security checks would be mandatory or might be waived? What matters in conceptual modeling terms is that the myriad legal aspects need not be insurmountable. They will need to be worked out by a joint panel of legal experts. But only after political leaders consent to the basic construct. Indeed, rather than automatically dismissing dual sovereignty out of hand as cute or fanciful, leaders on both sides are counseled to give the notion careful consideration. For Israel, it fulfills minimal declared preconditions: a united city, with Tsion the recognized capital of the Jewish state. While for the Palestinians, too, it provides legitimacy and a legal standing on an equal footing with Israel: a political capital within the accepted confines of Irsalim al-Quds—nothing less. Finally, when compared with alternative “solutions” that are either totally unacceptable or entirely unreachable, shared rule and dual or “soft” sovereignty have got to be preferable to nothing at all. It is really only a matter of time until this re-

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alization sinks in, although until then there will be many on each side who continue to refuse to see it that way. Religious Reciprocity in the Promised Land We return to the themes of dualism and interdependence evoked by Jerusalem. For the peace of Jerusalem is of merit in its own right, yet also applicable on a larger scale. What is true for the city holds equally well for the country, the Holy Land, as a whole: the high ratio of religious and historical sites per square mile. The landscape of western Palestine is dotted with sites of one kind or another revered by the three great Western religions. Any partition-based map is going to have to reflect this sensitive issue, as well, and to provide some acceptable formula other than drawing a straight line of division and separation. Final status negotiators must find a way to permit free and easy access to these historical attractions and shrines that will transcend political partition borders. For example, portions of the West Bank already under Palestinian jurisdiction include a number of venerated Jewish sites: Rachel’s Tomb near Bethlehem, the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Hebron, Joseph’s Tomb in Nablus, and the historic Shalom al Yisrael synagogue in Jericho. Orthodox Israelis have incorporated this religious motif into their ideological and political stand against any partitioning of the Land of Israel and emphasize the need instead for asserting Jewish control over biblical holy places located across Judea and Samaria. Any Israeli prime minister has got to be sensitive to the powerful religious parties that traditionally form the backbone of coalition governments as well as the stake of world Jewry in protecting the Jewish heritage. Support, even if only a pledge not to resist by force, by both elements is necessary for the success of any compromise peace initiative and domestic referendum. He or she is therefore going to have to assure the nation’s religious interests before signing away title to any of these lands. Preferably through a joint Israeli-Palestinian administration over all special religious and historical sites; at a minimum, sensitive protection of these sites together with assured entrée for Jewish worshippers and visitors. The Palestinian position rejects Jewish religious claims to the West Bank and offers instead counterclaims far beyond east Jerusalem, from the Ajami mosque in Jaffa to those in Acre and lower Haifa and Christian holy places throughout the Galilee. Muslim world sensitivities are

15. Hebron 1997

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readily aroused by any rumor of Jewish disrespect, and offense is taken at the slightest show of unilateral Israeli action in any one of the Muslim shrines, with the Temple Mount and Hebron being singularly combustible flashpoints. These sensitivities must be given equal consideration in negotiating a countrywide religious and historical accord. Here, too, the Oslo agreement points the way (but not more than that) by pledging free access to religious sites and freedom of worship at the sites themselves. Religious tolerance ought to be beyond debate. So is the argument sound for superimposing a religious regime onto an otherwise inhibiting political partition. An all-western Palestine religious and historical authority centering on the Old City, and built upon the Jerusalem model, but then radiating outward to encompass places of religious or historical significance throughout the Holy Land. Except that this logic has been sorely disabused by the bitter clashes of September 1996, when, of all places, religious sites became the scene of violence: the controversial Hasmonean tunnel, but even more Joseph’s Tomb and Rachel’s Tomb, both of them Israeli-manned enclaves within Palestinian-controlled cities. Neither is the daily tension between Jewish and Muslim occupants of Hebron, another religious tinderbox, an advertisement for the goodwill, understanding, and mutual respect that must underpin any joint regime. Again, this does not mean the longer-term cause is lost. Only that it has been set back, and not for the first time. Still, interfaith cooperation (if not trust quite yet) is too inherent in the situation to be callously discarded, both in the holy city and in the promised land. A reversion to holy war is so unspeakable that it commands a united front against religious extremism on all sides. It is going to require considerable diplomatic tact and religious forbearance not only to repair the damage to JewishMuslim relations but also to convert this larger imperative into accepted practice and religious custom.

PART THREE

Mapping Palestine

Chapter 8

The Elusive Middle Ground

To both Arabs and Jews Partition offers a prospect—and we see no such prospect in any other policy—of obtaining the inestimable boon of peace. —from the Peel Commission findings (1937)

Reflecting upon his lifelong preoccupation with the Israeli-Arab issue, the late professor Yehoshafat Harkabi sagely noted that Palestine is “many shades of gray.”1 Not, however, when it comes to staking out land rights. There is simply no new ground to uncover. Neither creative frameworks as yet unthought of nor unclaimed territorial expanses. If Palestinians are prepared to hold out for the entire West Bank, so, too, Israeli territorial zealots. Each side therefore retains a maximalist’s final status vision and accompanying atlas of what Israel/Filastin by right should look like. In Arab and Israeli leaseholds there are no shadings—and no gray areas; only black and white. Which ought to caution that the closer the negotiations get to the finish line the more they will make the excruciating post–Yom Kippur War shuttle diplomacy that yielded Sinai I and II on the Egyptian front and the separation-of-forces agreement on the Golan Heights seem like child’s play. Israelis and Palestinians will be measuring negotiating success or bargaining failure by the number of dunams and hectares gained or lost. Rest assured that before any peace pact is initialed the war of percentages comes down to miles and kilometers. Still more likely: inches and centimeters. Reinventing Palestine Given Arab and Jewish antipodal maps of Palestine to be, it is precisely a gray area of territorial partition that will have to be created. We all appreciate that Palestine fulfills multiple roles. Consecrated holy ground and battleground, it represents as well the common ground

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for those millions of Israeli Jewish, Israeli Arab, and Palestinian Arab residents determined to live there. But that can only mean living together. Political separatism perhaps, although not complete physical separation. Which poses the interesting question: Can historic, geographic, demographic “Palestine” now be asked to serve, in addition, as a middle ground? By which I mean the site for two distinctive homelands. Two homelands with overlapping national constituencies, a united Jerusalem, interdependent economic infrastructures, and a single transportation grid. Two political entities sharing security while residing in the closest proximity and in a state of peace. I would answer yes. In fact, to my mind the makings for cohabitation and for an Arab-Israeli Palestinian middle ground already exist. Even without addressing it in quite such explicit terms, by their words no less than by their deeds the leaders of both communities are presently engaged in repartitioning the contested land and in redrawing boundaries. How so? In the first instance, because of the series of phased interim agreements achieved since Oslo.2 Starting with the symbolic transfer of power in Gaza City and Jericho from Israeli to Palestinian hands, followed by the 1995 Oslo 2 division of the West Bank into Areas A, B, and C, the process of adjusting territorial expectations and demands is already well underway. As of January 1998, and even before any of the pledged three additional pullbacks, the Palestinians exercised autonomy over a full 27 percent of the entire West Bank. To any but the most naive it ought to be patently obvious that so-called redeployments by Israel are tantamount to permanent withdrawal of its civil and military presence. One must safely assume that in all such instances control, once yielded to the Palestinian National Authority, will not revert to Israeli hands in any future negotiation, but is irretrievable. West Bank cities and rural areas evacuated by Israel after 1993 are thus destined to remain within the redrawn bounds of Palestinian self-rule. And it would be political chicanery to claim otherwise. In the second instance, de facto repartition proceeds apace through the frenzied efforts of Israelis and Palestinians alike at unilaterally “creating facts on the ground.” To wit: home improvements, housing and road construction, and neighborhood expansion in east Jerusalem (both publicized and by stealth) as well as throughout the West Bank. And in the third instance, by open speculation over possible “border arrangements” well in advance, and in preparing to bargain over precise terms for the projected

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Palestinian “entity,” its powers, jurisdiction, semisovereignty (or full sovereignty), and geographic location. Purely from Israel’s standpoint, the very act of drawing alternative map designs in effect largely predetermines the extent of its pending withdrawals and the amount of territory slated for transfer to the Palestinians in the future. Thus, I am arguing that through their formulations and actions Israelis and Palestinians in truth are already prejudicing the outcome of the permanent status talks long before they have begun. In short, the final offensive in the monumental ground war for Palestine is well underway, and in earnest. Although uncharted as yet, the map coordinates do seem fairly clear. The dividing lines are going to be drawn latitudinally at a point between wish lists and real choices; longitudinally, somewhere between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River, or, with expanded horizons, possibly extending further eastward in accommodating the largest single Palestinian “diaspora” in Jordan. In redividing Palestine on the ground even prior to the 1999 political deadline these two copartitionists are in fact already engaged in redefining and reinventing “Palestine.” Agreeing to restrict themselves to “Palestine west of the Jordan” is in itself a major delineation. Parenthetically, this wording is almost subconsciously a kind of oblique admission that in their heart of hearts and deeper recesses of mind each side ideologically still retains the East Bank and trans-Jordan in their imagined “Palestine”—that there is also a Palestine east of the Jordan! Still, to all political intents Palestine to be is already circumscribed, long before its permanent frontiers have been demarcated. Inching Toward a Partitionist Peace So where are the two territorial claimants at? From a comparative standpoint it is far easier to substantiate the template shift on the Israeli side. When a Beginist disciple like Likud Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu yields control over Hebron, conceding that the integrity of the Land of Israel is no longer the supreme value in Likud ideology, and then lends his name to an “Allon plus” formulation—and in prenegotiation, no less—it is fair to say that Israelis are now at the far more advanced stage of arguing over alternative plans of partition. The Palestinian mainstream, by contrast, is still resisting partition—as territorial compromise at the preliminary level of principle.

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In Arab world politics direct references to the “P” word by name and to the need for partition are extremely rare. In its orthodoxy Palestinian rhetoric continues to invoke the imperative for Israel to uproot all of its settlements, as well as insisting upon Israel’s “total” withdrawal from the West Bank.3 Both themes certainly seem to contradict the essence and spirit of territorial compromise as give and take. Similarly, Palestinian discourse among politicians and intellectuals is spiced with repeated references to “freedom of the homeland” and “liberation of Palestine,” leaving to one’s imagination (and to Israeli insecurities) precisely what is meant by “Palestine” and exactly what the dimensions of that “homeland” might be. Still, the realities on the ground are making themselves felt, and political realism is building up within the two respective camps. Unless I am far off the mark, this down-to-earth pragmatism, especially if encouraged and allowed to continue, has got to lead to a readjustment in outlook about what—and how much—is politically obtainable by each side through territorial compromise. The problem, however, is that these undercurrents run deep, ferment slowly, can be deflected and just as easily disavowed, lack official confirmation, and, besides, as just shown, may run parallel among Israelis and Palestinians but not necessarily with the same forcefulness in sweeping aside fortified ideological positions. There are, in essence, two alternative models for territorially compromising western Palestine: “hard” versus “soft” partition. Fortress partition, aiming at autarkic and impermeable entities, juxtaposed with partition plus. Although each yields a different map and Israeli-Palestinian relationship, both rest on the same initial theoretical premise: share the land by dividing it. But the former stresses maximum disengagement and posits two hermetically sealed, self-contained units, whereas the latter emphasizes the porous nature of the division, making for—in the jargon of sociology and strategic studies—two “penetrated” societies and “permeable” geopolitical entities. A clear-cut or hard partition is wholly inapplicable in the case of Palestine, no matter how many people might find it desirable. The previous chapters have meant to illustrate what others have observed mostly in passing. That “economic interdependence, geographic imperatives and demographic intersections rule out hermetic separation.”4 There are simply too many points of Arab-Jewish contact. No surgical partition or ink-line borders, however impressive on paper, are going to even begin to come close to undoing the thick ties that entangle. The ties that bind Arab and Jew to the land, and to each other.5

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Given the combination of limited choices and constraints on the ground, these two peoples and two ethnic communities are destined to be deeply implicated in each other’s daily life . . . and to be mutually dependent one upon the other for their well-being and security. As a matter of fact, I am not at all sure anyone knows what “viable statehood” means in the context of Israel/Palestine west of the Jordan River other than in terms of partition plus: two formal states compelled by their situation of proximity and intimacy into a correspondingly close working relationship. Strategies for “going it alone,” whether Palestinian or Israeli, make absolutely no sense. So, too, encouraging Israelis and Palestinians to “live side by side” when this is taken to mean two self-contained ethnic communities and ecosystems. Cutting a deal may be the problem solver’s concern; whereas for those people actually residing on the land their first need is to know how livable the paper settlement is going to be for them. Which leaves soft, or what I prefer to label qualified, partition the only realistic alternative. Wishful thinking and nationalist sentiments aside, any final partitionist peace plan can only mean a two-tiered territorial redivision. Two separate political units perhaps, but each with a residual “presence” inside the other’s domain. Realistically, who can picture an Israel without its Arab neighborhoods, sectors, or “triangles”? Or a Palestine ethnically cleansed of Jewish resident settlers rather than clustered, and encloistered, in enclaves of their own? Already now this reciprocal “presence” finds tangible expression in Arab-Jewish mixed cities, substantial ethnic minorities and enclaves, Jewish settlements and Israeli military outposts, noncontiguity and a joint economic infrastructure. This kaleidoscopic landscape, in turn, argues for— indeed, cries out for—reciprocal transit rights and other satisfactory transborder arrangements that distinguish soft from hard partition. So much for qualified partition as the preferred general framework. The broad outlines seem fairly clear, even compelling. Yet Israeli as well as Palestinian conceptualizers have already put us on notice: wherever else he may lurk, the devil is also in the qualifiers. Both sides—even the most liberal and forthcoming among them—give only qualified, grudging consent to separation and partition. Again, it merits repeating that the sine qua non for any territorial repartition must be a mutual willingness to part at least to some extent with maximum territorial claims. Each leader needs to prepare his people for the likelihood they are not going to get 100 percent of the West Bank. For the moment, however, the two claimants widely, even vastly, differ not only over the

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meaning, the style, and the manner of separation but also the territorial price to be extracted in order to achieve degrees of separation. Of Inches, Kilometers, and Percentages Consequently, in bringing the discussion entirely down to earth, what remains is to look at the major partitionist schemes currently “in play.” The following section is less concerned with the exact border delineation than with degrees of territorial compromise. Just contemplating the index of claims and counterclaims previously registered or currently on file is disquieting in itself. But in sifting through the profusion of territorial formulations our search is restricted to only the more recent map formulations. And which, second, fall somewhere between the official PLO-Hamas stand of “each and every grain of sacred Arab soil” and the equally uncompromising maximalist Israeli position represented by followers of the late Meir Kahana committed to af sha’al, to “not even one clod or lump” of covenanted land becoming forfeit. In a word, we are solely concerned with those solutions truly representing the compromise principle, as opposed, for instance, to “land for peace” or equivalent all-or-nothing prescriptions. Put differently, were Israel forced to yield the West Bank in its entirety, then 1999 could very well result in repartition . . . although not necessarily territorial compromise. This aside, even comparatively liberal models for dividing and sharing the land have an overall distressing effect of their own, especially when taken together. For they sensitize us to the distinct possibility there may be less room in the end for peaceful territorial adjustment than one may usually be led to believe, or certainly might wish for in the upcoming negotiations. Constantly worth bearing in mind: Israelis and Palestinians represent two worthy protagonists who do not yield ground willingly; who do not give an inch; whose negotiating motto is “Look before you creep!” Additional insights into the percentages game are provided by a loose map formulation offered up by New York Times foreign affairs columnist Thomas Friedman, himself a close student of the peace process. Writing in 1997, Friedman volunteered that at best the Palestinians could expect to secure somewhere between 65 and 85 percent of the West Bank, while Prime Minister Netanyahu was well advised to prepare his constituency for a settlement leaving Israel with 15 to 35 percent.6 For one thing, no authoritative Palestinian spokesman has publicly expressed even the slightest readiness to settle for less than 100 percent.

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Absent this, and there is no room for a territorial compromise—and without compromising on territory, no compromise peace. For another thing, on the land issue everyone agrees there is a significant, possibly even critical 20 percent difference between 15–35 percent and 65–85. Plans of Partition The latter point is confirmed by any of some six or seven recent territorial formulations—all Israeli. Arranged from the most expansive to the most restrictive: • 70:30. In February 1997 a map of interests commissioned by the religious settler movement Amana outlined the possibility of parting with 30 percent of Judea and Samaria, but which would still leave 70 percent in Israel’s possession.7 • In July 1997 Minister for Infrastructure Ariel Sharon addressed the Knesset on Israel’s minimum lines for a final status pact. He insisted Israel would demand two security zones: a twenty-five-kilometer-wide strip west of the Jordan River and a strip some 10–15 kilometers wide running east of the 1967 “green line.” Although he refrained from using numerical land percentages, Sharon’s formulation left no doubt it incorporated extensive annexation. Also, he made a point of insisting these two zones were the “absolute minimum necessary.”8 • 60:40. On May 29, 1997, Ha’aretz headlined a meeting of the “inner security cabinet” at which Prime Minister Netanyahu enunciated a number of principles for any final settlement aimed at disabusing the Palestinians of any maximalist territorial claims.9 Foremost among these guidelines: no redivision of “greater Jerusalem,” Israel’s retention of the Jordan Valley and wide security zones in the Judean desert, “broad and unrestricted access” to the Jordan Valley, contiguity between the larger settlement clusters and the more isolated settlements. Other stipulations: a buffer between Israel and the Palestinian Authority, at places “hundreds of meters wide,” closing off the Palestinian entity from all sides, giving Israel the final say over virtually everyone and everything entering or leaving it. Last, enabling Jewish population growth in those areas left under Israel’s control but without necessarily formally annexing them, thereby suspending determination of their final status to future generations.10 Although no official partition map accompanied Netanyahu’s Cabinet presentation, the implications for mapmaking were reconstructed by re-

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porter Ze’ev Schiff, who estimated the prospective Palestinian entity at most might receive 40 percent of the West Bank. Interestingly, while Netanyahu referred to his plan as “Allon plus,” under the original 1968 Allon plan Israel asked to retain “only” about one-third of the contested land. Netanyahu’s updated version, however, differed markedly, reflecting three decades of settlement policy as well as the fact that any territory now ceded by Israel would go to Arafat and the Palestinians rather than reverting to the more trustworthy Jordanians. Netanyahu clearly signaled his intention to retain 50 percent and more of the West Bank. The New York Times’s Thomas Friedman, rushing to judgment, dismissed the Netanyahu proposals as “just a bunch of lines.”11 Closer to the mark, veteran politico-military analyst Ze’ev Schiff emphasized the deeper ideological adjustment hinted at in the prime minister’s principles. As Schiff wrote, “the map has within it a further notification by the political Right of its readiness to divide the land of Israel between us and the Palestinians, slice by slice.”12 I would add, in the same vein, that Netanyahu perhaps cleverly sought to deflect party and coalition critics at home by drawing attention away from what Israel was prepared to concede and underlining instead prospective gains; in particular, security depth, Jerusalem, the settlements. Quite likely, he was also signaling that his government differed from its Labor precursors and the Oslo enthusiasts who inadvertently may have encouraged the Palestinians to expect Israel’s eventual collapse on the territorial front. Under Likud rule there would be no land-for-peace swap; only a territorial compromise. And, moreover, one falling far short of Palestinian demands by safeguarding Israeli claims—in Netanyahu’s version— to at least half if not more of the West Bank. • 52:48. Preparing for the contingency of a negotiated partition, the IDF general staff was widely reported in Israel as having drafted its own “map of interests” at the beginning of 1997, which was then shown by the prime minister to President Clinton at a White House meeting on February 13.13 It is reasonable to assume that the military establishment’s detailed and authoritative blueprint also served as the basis for Netanyahu’s own subsequent personal formulation, Allon plus. Underscoring national security concerns rather than ideological or political ones, the IDF plan advocates, for example, directly incorporating large swatches of land along the Jordan River into Israel’s defense perimeter as well as a number of electrical, water, and traffic “lifelines.” If accurate, these reported territorial stipulations mean that Israel’s security

16. The Original Allon Plan

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elite is on record as advocating retention of as much as 52 percent of the West Bank by the Jewish state. • 18.2: 81.8. Yet another serious nonpolitical map exercise, but significantly below the previous “50 percent-and-more” plans, was published at approximately the same time. This one, by Professors Elisha Efrat and Yossi Katz, was chiefly concerned with the final dispensation of land then within Israeli-governed Area C. Controlling for population distribution and concentration as their independent variable, in contrast to the IDF’s focus upon security assets, Efrat and Katz feel Israel would be within its rights in claiming 23.4 percent of Area C—equivalent to 18.2 percent of the West Bank. That the 18.2–81.8 formula might enable Israel to incorporate 105,000 Jewish residents (87 percent of the settlers) inside eighty-nine Jewish settlements (73 percent of the settlements on the West Bank) explains both the logic and the appeal behind their argument. For under its provisions less than 10 percent of the Jewish settlers would be left outside the boundaries of sovereign Israel, whereas over 80 percent of the West Bank would become a sovereign Palestine. One catch, however: once water control and access roads are factored in, then the two social scientists advise Israel might legitimately insist on annexing another 10 percent of C, for a total of 22 percent of the entire West Bank.14 Several territorial compromise formulas put forward by the Israeli peace movement go even further in reflecting an earnest of intent to trade the maximum amount of land compatible with Israel’s bare-boned security needs in return for an accommodation with Palestinian nationalism. Precisely owing to their liberal, dovish political orientation, these plans, located at the other end of the spectrum from most territorially demanding to most concessionary, are perhaps singularly instructive on the looming politics of partition. • 11:89. One of the earliest, most carefully considered and widely discussed plans to emerge in the immediate post-Oslo period is the 1994 Alpher blueprint.15 Part of a larger study on future settlement and border prospects, Alpher’s Plan B—“Moderate Territorial Compromise”— would have Israeli negotiators restrict territorial desiderata to “around 11 percent of all the territories”—covering Judea, Samaria, the Gaza Strip, and East Jerusalem. Of particular interest is the rationale offered by the plan’s author. Alpher justifies even these 11 percent on the following grounds: (1) UN Resolution 242 does allow, after all, for border modifications, and also

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17. The Alpher “Minimalist” Plan for Territorial Compromise

mandates Israel’s right to secure boundaries; (2) there is a strong case for Israel’s right to continue to exploit traditional water resources; (3) the “demographic balance” is in Israel’s definite favor in western Samaria, along the Jerusalem corridor, and around Jerusalem; (4) all the annexed

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lands would be directly contiguous with the green line; (5) mass removal of the settlers would be a political and domestic impossibility for any Israeli government; whereas (6) the number of Palestinian Arabs included in the annexation would be minimal, “several tens of thousands” at most. Further supporting arguments: (7) Israel “will almost certainly be holding most of the bargaining cards in the final status talks”; (8) Israel therefore will be positioned to offer sweeteners, like meeting the Palestinian requirement for “an extraterritorial land corridor connecting the Gaza Strip to Judea”; (9) also, the offer of compensation to the Palestinians “in the form of desert territory, or part of the Triangle or Wadi Ara or land adjacent to the Gaza Strip” as “a politically important face-saving device that would balance more expansive Palestinian territorial concessions in the West Bank—precisely because it involves land from pre-1948 Palestine.” Tenth, and last, “a large majority of Israelis would likely support such a negotiated agreement.” Without getting into a discussion over each point, the Alpher concept of partition is noteworthy on three counts. First, security becomes the sole criterion for territorial claims; second, the modest land figure his Plan B poses is deceptively small; third, even this Israeli minimalism and selfrestraint do not correspond to the maximum Palestinian leaders are prepared to concede. Regarding the first, Alpher writes (p. 40) that under his plan Israel would ensure a number of advantages. Among them, most notably: enhanced defensive capabilities toward the east, both in the Jordan Valley and in western Samaria, enhancement of the defenses of Jerusalem and easier access to the city, sufficient control over the Yarkon-Taninim Aquifer, Israel’s primary water resource in the territories. So, too, inclusion within Israeli sovereign borders of some 70 percent of the settlers, thereby reducing significantly the threat to domestic political stability during the transition and reducing the economic burden of evacuation. Second, but related, is the 11 percent land figure, which is modest for one reason, centering on the status of the Jordan Valley. The discrepancy between the Sharon, Netanyahu, and IDF territorial schemes, for example, and Alpher’s is that all the former insist on making the Jordan security salient a direct part of Israel. Alpher’s provision is more subtle. It would annex Ma’aleh Adumim, having it serve as “the deployment zone for a rapid intervention force designated to assist in closing the Jordan River crossings and defending the Jordan River security border” in an emergency; with a second rapid intervention force deployed south of Bet She’an in a second but tiny annexed area. In addition, an Israeli military

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force—“mobile and/or fixed in nature”—would be deployed in the Jordan Valley and on the eastern slopes of the ridge, “on Palestinian territory” under a Jordan Valley arrangement to remain in effect for a minimum of fifteen years. This is so much as confirmed by a map sketch of Plan B accompanying the discussion that shows a wide band running south from Bet She’an to Ma’ale Adumim captioned “Overall Deployment Zone of Temporary Israeli Force.” The overall effect is to make any outright annexation by Israel seemingly constricted to the eastern side of the green line. In other words, Alpher is only able to pare territorial demands down to a minimal 11 percent by not claiming direct sovereignty over the Jordan River security perimeter while still retaining effective control for a defined but nevertheless extended period of at least fifteen years. There is a third and final observation that needs to be made here about the Alpher plan and, by extension, any other minimalist position. Simply stated, it is that even the most modest and concessionary Israeli proposals for a territorial settlement short of “land for peace,” hovering between 8 and 11 to 13 percent, do not enjoy resonance in Palestinian circles. As Alpher himself cautiously notes (p. 41): “No doubt this plan also poses serious drawbacks. First and foremost, there is no guarantee that, even after long and arduous negotiations, the Palestinians would accept it.” In a nice turn of phrase, Heller at one point speaks of “the reality of restricted choice” in Palestine peacemaking. By their current and divergent stances on territorial compromise the two respective Israeli and Palestinian sides offer an interesting but also potentially deadly study in contrasts. The Israelis, as demonstrated above, through their range of formulations, plans, and land maps; the Palestinians, by their conformity, and the very absence of partition-based formulations, plans, and land maps other than the return of all occupied Arab territory. Israeli Pluralism To students of Israeli domestic affairs political diversity and pluralism are the spice of life and a double-edged sword: a credit to functioning democracy, but an obstacle to the kind of strong national consensus needed for affirmative public policy making. And especially on the cardinal issue of a Middle East peace settlement meant to provide both honor and security. Precisely for this reason commentators paid due notice at the start of 1997 to the signing of the National Agreement Regarding the Negotiations on the Permanent Settlement with the Palestinians. Dated January 22, 1997, and spearheaded by two leading Labor and Likud members of

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Knesset, the aforementioned Dr. Yossi Beilin and Michael Eitan, this initiative aimed at averting a bitter controversy at home and within the Jewish nation about (a) the legitimacy and (b) the price of giving up parts of the homeland. While, in addition, forging a bipartisan strategy on the “path of historic compromise” with Palestinian nationalism in preparation for the scheduled permanent status negotiations. The Beilin-Eitan charter seemingly heralded agreement on three crucial principles: creation of a Palestinian entity, Israel’s existential right to assured security through eliminating the risk of attack, no uprooting of Jewish settlements in the “Western Land of Israel.” The joint document went on to underscore other preconditions. No return to the 1967 borders. The right of most West Bank settlers to live under Israeli government and protection, with those outside the areas annexed by Israel maintaining close ties with the state “as individuals and as a community.” The Jordan Valley to be treated as a special security zone, with Israeli armed forces deployed along the Jordan River security border. And, as a corollary— territorial continuity as well as “free and safe passage” between the settlements, the military outposts, and the State of Israel to be enforced under full Israeli sovereignty. Bottom line, however: from a later perspective the Beilin-Eitan initiative appears more like a nonstarter than a genuine common front, let alone a consensual or authoritative bargaining position. Despite last-minute efforts at papering over serious differences by wrapping them in ambiguity, thereby preserving the outer semblance of a historic Labor-Likud national pact, the 1997 charter failed at the time to sweep public opinion. Indeed, it was largely and rather quickly forgotten. Nonetheless, for some people Beilin-Eitan and the Netanyahu guidelines enunciated shortly thereafter suggest the makings of a national consensus and coalescence around one working map as of 1998. For example, the New Republic editorialized: “In recent years, both Labor and the Likud have seen the West Bank as the cartographic equivalent of Swiss cheese. Labor viewed it as Palestinian cheese with Jewish holes. The Likud saw it as Israeli cheese with Palestinian holes,” whereas with the Beilin-Eitan agreement “there is now a confluence of Israeli perspectives on the emerging map.”16 Which, to my mind, entirely misses the key point. Any such confluence is deceptive. True, for most Israelis, including many of the more practical leaders of the settler movement save the extremists, it is patently clear that there will be a definitive repartitioning of Judea and Samaria, the Palestinians concurring. Yet the differences among Israelis and in their

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mental maps of what this redivision should or will look like are still far too wide to be able to speak of a consensus on territorial partition other than over principle itself. Suffice to note that the disparity is large, ranging from Sharon’s 64 percent and the IDF-Netanyahu figure of more than 50–60 percent of the West Bank to the Beilin-Yossi Sarid-Alpher-Heller minimalist bare-bones claim to 8–13 percent. If anything, extensive map exercises conducted by the Netanyahu government in late December 1997/early January 1998, and intended to put a ceiling on territorial concessions, pointed to a hardening of Israel’s territorial bargaining position for the duration of the interim stage and into the final status round. If true, and if adhered to in the face of Palestinian, Arab, American, and European pressure, the implication for repartitioning meant a further tilt to the right in Israel’s official stance and claims to larger segments of the West Bank. Besides signaling a less rather than more concessionary posture vis-á-vis the Palestinians, the reports emerging from these Cabinet and inner security cabinet sessions held in the interval between the prime minister’s meetings with Secretary Albright and President Clinton further sharpened the disparity between Israeli territorial maximalists, centrists, and minimalists. Once again, in a replay of the previous summer 1997 round, Minister Sharon’s formulations emphasized broader national interests—aside from the settlements factor and military bases—like ecology, water resources, Jerusalem’s periphery, historical sites, major roads, and territorial continuity. Whereas Minister Mordechai’s offered a leaner conception of security interests translating into 52 percent of the land, but without taking into account areas of dense Jewish settlement. However, given the defense minister’s own conviction that the critical mass of Jewish settlements ultimately deserve to be incorporated into Israel, one could deduce that when the two men’s alternative versions of Israel’s “interest zones” were superimposed on each other the basic discrepancy would almost entirely fade away. Instead of a fundamental gap, on the contrary, adding up the numbers indicated the emergence of a working consensus: Sharon’s retention of 64 percent of the West Bank, contrasted with Mordechai’s 63 percent.17 Nevertheless, Israeli society as a whole will enter the decisive territorial talks divided over the precise meaning of territorial compromise instead of fused around one single map. Even so, it remains to be noted that no credible leader, party, or peace movement in Israel interprets “land for peace” in other than partitionist and compromise terms. Certainly not in the accepted Palestinian and Arab

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sense of an even exchange; a straight trade predicated upon Israel’s wholesale dismantling of the settlements, total withdrawal from all the territories, and full redeployment westward, ending in a redivided Jerusalem and reactivated 1949–1967 armistice lines. In one very specific sense the exact lines and percentages bandied about in the onrushing stream of projected maps are less important than the larger two trends they point to. In the first instance, territorial concessions earlier pronounced totally acceptable by authoritative policy makers in Jerusalem have become the accepted base point in more recent bargaining. Thus, heated objections in 1997 to any double-digit second redeployment above 9 percent of the West Bank were set aside by mid-1998. The argument by then among Israeli political and military elites had shifted to fallback positions. Whether or not to resist a 12 or a 13 percent withdrawal. And whether 3 percent of this total, earmarked for a special nature reserve, should qualify as Area B (the Palestinian demand) or Area C (Israel’s offer), best designated Area C (reduced IDF security control), or, still better, subsumed under a new category of land labeled Area D.18 By the second half of 1998, what Israelis referred to as “10 + 3” had become the operative offer in continuing efforts at meeting standards for a second deployment. Again, it is not that such nuances are not insignificant. Each percentage point, after all, represents substantial chunks of coveted acreage. It is just that the distinctions between categories of land and percentages of land are overshadowed by the sense of a seductive or wearing down process at work. Over time Israel’s territorial position has moved gradually, perhaps even substantially (in relation to earlier formulations of af sha’al, of not yielding an inch. On November 18, 1998, Israel’s parliament endorsed the Wye River agreement which, when implemented, would see Palestinian control rise from 27 percent to 42 percent of the West Bank. The Knesset vote was 75 in favor, 19 against, and 9 abstentions. Yet the process led the Netanyahu government, pushing and shoving— and Israel—that much closer to some as yet indeterminate West Bank middle ground. And certainly a far distance removed from former relatively moderate delusions about the Jordan River, for example, serving as Israel’s ultimate political as well as security border. Only that the concessions are never quite sufficient. A companion trend is of equal importance for the definitive partition map. If fully implemented as a preliminary to the permanent status stage, second and third redeployments position the Palestinians, for their part, to approach the bargaining table with as much as 40 percent or more of

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their territorial claims already “in hand,” meaning under their administration and authority. And further reinforced by Israel’s acquiescence to a form of linkage whereby land yielded in the interim phase is nonrefundable upon entering into the final phase. But this, of course, leaves the remaining contested 50 to 60 percent. Which suggests that Israelis and Palestinians are still going to have to make further fundamental territorial readjustments in the near future if a land split is to have any prospect of working. For the simple reason that, as the literature on conflict resolution teaches, accommodation is really a three-way street. In essence, each of the sides first needs to disabuse itself and its followers of at least some of their notions of peace—the rewards to be gained as well as the price to be paid. This, before they can then turn to each other at the bargaining table with more flexible proposals . . . and maps. Palestinian Conformity Commenting upon the flurry of maps circulating in Israel at the beginning of 1998, a report for the Foundation for Middle East Peace contributes, in my view, several perspectives helpful in grasping deeper processes at work behind the headlines. Geoffrey Aronson, a consistent critic of Israeli policy in the occupied territories and author of the report, describes what I identify as three different factors affecting coming peace prospects, both for the good and the bad. In the first instance, after five years the Oslo process had indeed deteriorated from a bilateral negotiation between Israelis and Palestinians to largely “an Israeli internal debate,” as Aronson puts it, about how much territory, authority, and sovereignty to offer the Palestinians. In the second instance, the report points, correctly, to the transformation then taking place in Binyamin Netanyahu’s own ruling party, the Likud. “Its leaders as well as rank and file,” the author of the report writes, “are in the process of accommodating themselves to the fact that the ‘integrity’ of the whole `Land of Israel under Jewish sovereignty’ and even the retention of all Jewish settlements under full Israeli sovereignty” are, in Aronson’s words, “unsustainable political goals.”19 In the third instance, the 1998 report concludes, “none of these maps meet even the minimum expectations of the Palestinian leadership, not to mention the even more expansive expectations of much of the Palestinian public.” Which alerts us to a serious problem, less of communication than of asymmetries, once we compare the respective positions.

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Crossing the political divide, the Arab state of mind toward political and territorial partition remains significantly different from the current Israeli state of mind. So much so that Israeli and Palestinian perceptions of territorial compromise offer a striking study in contrasts, a study that highlights nonuniformity and fractiousness on one side with something approaching numbing conformity on the other. Had the permanent status round of talks begun in 1997, as scheduled, they would have found Israelis seriously divided over partitioning Palestine . . . the Palestinians seriously united against dividing Palestine. Down to the very present Israelis suffer, if you will, from split visions. There are dreams and there is reality. You may covet peace and security, but which comes first? National interest maps somehow confusingly counter nonidentical security interest maps. In order to honor a commitment to relinquish 13 percent of the West Bank, which do you sacrifice: settlements around Mount Hebron and the West Bank highlands? Or parts of the eastern corridor in the barren unpopulated Judean Desert and the Jordan Rift Valley that would block the Palestinians from creating a large and powerful continuous land mass, in effect uniting the two banks of the Jordan River?20 Which of the two options better serves Israeli interests? The national debate continues. But there is at least a genuine debate. Also, larger trends and time charts show public opinion increasingly resigned to the partition construct, whether for its wisdom, its fairness, or its inevitability. This contrasts with a shared vision among West Bank Arabs. To the extent an outside observer (and an Israeli one at that!) can gauge, Palestinians give the impression of still being at the preliminary, ideological level, and therefore still remain solidly opposed to the idea of redividing and sharing parts of the West Bank. Palestinian resistance to partition is deeply ingrained—“the negation of their elemental birthright to the territorial integrity of their ancestral homeland.”21 So, too, are objections to territorial concessions to Israel in return for statehood and as the price for peace visceral and reflexive. But a political calculation as well. So much so that there has yet to be an official unambiguous confirmation that Palestinian Arab nationalism is in fact prepared to accept either a politically constrained state or a territorially constricted one in anything less than the entire West Bank and Gaza Strip, including eastern Jerusalem. Similarly unclear is the degree of Palestinian willingness to grant even “insubstantial” territorial concessions. Israelis may have many complaints against Yasir Arafat, but definitely not duplicity on the subject of land

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claims. Ambiguity, for him, stops at the land’s edge. He has never kept his territorial imperatives hidden, but has stated them, time and again, in clear categorical terms. As, for example, on the eve of his visit to Washington in January 1998, when he said, “We have only one map, and that is the map of the independent Palestinian state with Jerusalem as its capital, based on UN Resolution 242. This is the only map that will become reality.”22 Which leaves moot the all-important question. If forced to weigh between the two components—land and powers—are Arafat and other PLO leaders prepared to compromise? To consent to a state circumscribed in size (anywhere from 10 to 30 percent) in order to achieve unconstrained statehood and full sovereignty within 70 to 90 percent of western Filastin? In the absence of official Palestinian documentation or clear supportive material one way or the other, these critical issues that so vitally affect partition’s prospects remain speculative. We would only comment that much of the secondary sources, such as public statements, West Bank opinion surveys, and journal pieces by Arab scholars, sound a cautionary if not pessimistic note. There is a demonstrable reluctance to inscribe one’s signature to the partitionist formula. Quite the opposite. This audible silence is broken by vehement as well as categorical objection—and from both sides of the Palestinian political spectrum. Secularists vociferously express their opposition to the principle of partition and to its concomitant “two states for two people.” As a counter, they have revived old themes from the seventies, calling for the establishment of “a single secular and democratic state on the entire area of Palestine” or its more sanitized version, “one state for two people.” The wording may differ from one spokesman to another, although the sentiment and feeling are the same. For instance, Nabil Sha’th, one of the chief negotiators on the Palestinian side is quoted as declaring, “We want an independent Palestinian state on all the land occupied in 1967.”23 Asked his opinion, Mahmoud Darwish, a celebrated Palestinian poet and former member of the PLO Executive, candidly volunteered, “If you’re asking me for the record, I have to tell you that partitioning the country is still possible. If you’re asking me off the record—I have to tell you that at this point, it’s no longer possible.”24 In a two-part collection of post-Oslo papers by Palestinian experts, sponsored by the Washington-based Center for Policy Analysis on Palestine in August 1996 and tellingly entitled Beyond Rhetoric: Perspectives

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on a Negotiated Settlement in Palestine, not one of the contributors used, endorsed, or even bothered to argue its demerits. In contrast, one of the most explicit explanations to be found for antipartitionism from a Palestinian and an Arab perspective is offered by the Israeli Arab Palestinian nationalist, Member of Knesset Azmi Bishara. In fact, he goes out of his way to make Israelis understand that “when a Palestinian agrees to the ’67 borders, he is making a big concession, since it is clear to him that he has rights to everything, that everything belongs to him. Nevertheless, for the sake of compromise, he is willing to accept the borders of June 4, 1967.”25 This obviously merited elaboration, and so Bishara continues: “The ’67 borders constitute the outer limits of the compromise the Palestinian people is willing to make with Israel. Therefore, any attempt to retain parts of the Palestinian homeland—in its current definition, for the historic Palestinian homeland is much larger—under Israeli rule will mean a continuation of the conflict.” Ominously, he cautioned, “Even if someone can be found to sign his name to this sort of concession, the conflict will continue. No Palestinian government that would agree to such a [West Bank] concession would survive as a legitimate governing authority.” No less dismissive of partition in any shape or form is the Islamic religious right. Released from Israeli prison in October 1997, Sheikh Ahmad Yassin, head of the Islamic Hamas movement often critical of Arafat and his peace policy, assured, “We want this land, we want to remove the occupier from the land.”26 He continued, “We have different views on how to liberate our land, but this is the only difference between us. We are brothers, in one trench, against one enemy.” With his political influence mounting in the territories, Sheikh Yassin subsequently used his triumphal four-month tour of Arab capitals to vow continued holy struggle against Israeli occupation. “The first quarter of the next century,” he pledged, “will witness the elimination of the Zionist entity and the establishment of the Palestinian state over the whole of Palestine.”27 This type of public discourse, with its central theme of liberating all the land confiscated by Israel in the past, understandably colors West Bank opinion. That it has raised exaggerated expectations can be seen in Palestinian survey samplings, such as the one conducted by the Jerusalem Institute for Communication directed by Ghassan al-Katib in late 1996.28 Among its principal findings: • On the question “Would you agree to Jewish settlers living under Palestinian sovereignty?,” 70 percent were unwilling to abide by this form of Arab-Jewish coexistence.

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• When asked, “As part of a final settlement, would you support Israel annexing settlement blocs with a Jewish majority in return for Israel ceding territories elsewhere?, 84.1 percent of those polled answered in the negative. • Moreover, a full 70 percent of those canvassed demanded the right of Palestinian return, including to pre-1948 cities and towns like Haifa, Ramle, Lod, and Jaffa.29 Two years later the head of the Center for Palestine Research and Studies at an-Najah University in Nablus found 52 percent of the Palestinians backing a sovereign but demilitarized state in 95 percent of the West Bank and all of Gaza. Support fell to only 16 percent were the projected state to comprise a smaller area.30 Allowance, in fairness, ought to be made for the possibility that denial of partition’s relevance, suitability, or legitimacy is intended either for foreign or for domestic consumption. All or nothing is a perfectly understandable opening gambit in most bargaining situations. Such an uncompromising initial posture signals steadfastness. It may actually result in gaining all, when an adversary negotiating from weakness is compelled to make unilateral concessions. At worse, starting demands for 100 percent can always be traded off and trimmed and, even then, are likely to produce 50 percent compromises. More than that. Further allowance is made, in trying to fathom the depths of Palestinian opposition, for two additional arguments serving as disincentives. Palestinians see themselves historically as having relinquished their rights to 77 percent of their homeland because of events in 1921, 1947, 1948, and 1949, and 1967 for the 23 percent of the West Bank and Gaza. To now suggest further cuts from this whittled-down image of the “homeland” is not only painful but politically difficult. Related to this is an argument Israel will have to address seriously and carefully in submitting its peace map and conception of the territorial partition construct. I am referring to the profound problem of territorial integrity and contiguity. So profound that it receives separate discussion and analysis in the following chapter. As previewed by the tough bargaining throughout 1997–1998 on second and third redeployments, each hypothetical bite into this 23 percent West Bank–Gaza figure exacerbates the issue of direct road links between the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. Just as each further dissection raises further doubts about making any Palestinian state a politically and economically viable going concern. Similarly, the internal political calculus: that in the prevailing Palestinian political climate those who might find their way to partition, whether because of prudence or by a tortuous process of elimination, may

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find it impolitic however to espouse such an unpopular, defeatist viewpoint. Nevertheless, we ought to be mindful of one or two of the risks inherent in such a calculation. For instance, as documented by the PLO’s history and Arafat’s own political career, verbal professions of liberating all of Palestine, or merely all of the West Bank, when stated so often for the public record and so forcefully, make it excruciatingly difficult to back down. Not impossible, but certainly politically risky. Especially, moreover, when all-or-nothing political rhetoric has won over large numbers of Palestinian true believers indoctrinated with a belief in ultimate victory. And when Islamic fundamentalist critics of Arafat’s prepermanent status policies, led by respected religious figures like the above-mentioned Hamas leader, Sheikh Yassin, offer incalcitrants bitterly opposed to any concessions toward Israel a viable political alternative. Even allowing for both exogenous and internal, endogenous arguments, studied silence, ambiguity, or outright denial of territorial compromise’s validity all ultimately serve the same purpose.31 Thus, what nonetheless emerges is a general sense that the Palestinian populace at large regards a Palestinian state in the 1967 lines, including east Jerusalem, as their minimum demand. And they are as yet unprepared to settle for anything less; certainly not substantially less. Which, if true, only confirms yet again how extremely difficult it is in conflict resolution, as in politics generally, to alter core attitudes and long-standing ingrained policies. Nor will the task of moderate Palestinian leaders inclined to greater pragmatism be made any easier in reshaping opinion and reforming a winning peace coalition because the depth of the entrenched antipartition position. Beginning in 1937 and consistently thereafter, whenever offered the choice of peaceful territorial partition—as they themselves would be the first to admit—Palestinians and Arabs clung to the ideology of all or nothing. As one Palestinian author summarizes the traditional position: “Opposition to any partition of Palestine—which boils down to the rejection of a Jewish state in Palestine or any part of it—had long been the clear and steady objective of the Palestinian struggle.”32 Breaking with the past is hard enough. I would only add that in this very specific sense the 1977–1979 Sadat-Begin peace negotiations provide an unhelpful precedent. Having set the highest standard for land concessions by Israel on the Sinai front, the territorial settlement with Egypt makes it difficult in the extreme for any other Arab interlocutor—whether King Hussein, Yasir Arafat, or a Syrian leader—subsequently to settle for less than all or nothing. Which is, of course, inimical to the spirit of peacemaking through territorial compromise.

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No less dysfunctional are the extremely negative connotation and images the very notion of partition raises in Arab consciousness. To Palestinians taqsim implies stifling ghettoes, archipelagoes, enclaves, patchwork areas, a rump state. Rami Khouri, the internationally circulated Jordanian columnist for the Jordan Times, warns, for example, that the most the Palestinians can probably expect to hope for in a settlement with Israel are “semitic Soweto enclaves”; he conjures up an even more bleak picture of “POW camps,” “nature reserves,” “refugee camps,” “garbage dumps of history,” “levantine ethnic zoos.”33 If this is how territorial compromise is depicted, small wonder that no authoritative Palestinian voice—political or intellectual—has been raised on behalf of partition. Especially when political calculations of wider Arab world and pan-Islamic support for the Palestinians’ just cause and maximalist position, possibly joined by a sympathetic United States and the European community members, serve to reinforce reflexive ingrained contempt for partition in any form other than total and complete Israeli withdrawal. Indeed, Palestinian academics for the most part reinforce this almost monolithic negativism instead of preparing the way for greater political realism. In a dialectic unique to the Palestinian discourse, even people who present themselves as moderates in putting forth such enlightened ideas as Arab-Jewish binationalism or creation of a single unified democratic state in Palestine end up in reality as critics of Arafat’s leadership and of the two-state formula, with its implicit acceptance of partition. Consider the positions staked out by Professors Khalil Shikaki and Ahmed Khalidi. Offering reflections on a durable settlement, Shikaki, a respected social scientist, defines “the realization of Palestinian independence within clearly defined and sovereign territorial boundaries” to be “the most vital Palestinian goal.” But he then immediately qualifies this by insisting both that any Jewish settlements “compromise the future development of the Palestinian state” and that “the boundaries of the state should not be any less than those of 1967. Therefore, a return to the 1967 borders is the cornerstone of any agreement.”34 For his part, Ahmed Khalidi, editor of the leading Palestinian publication, the Journal of Palestine Studies, volunteers his personal blueprint founded on a “sovereign, uncontested, independent state” enjoying both territorial integrity and contiguity (“there can be no civilian pockets under Israeli rule on Palestinian land”).35 One of his main points is that “any further dissection of Palestinian territory would make it politically impossible to maintain a state”—a condition,

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once again, all but foreclosing any land deal whatsoever. Still, Khalidi would have the “future shape” of his Palestinian state—and by implication that of the Jewish state as well as specific lines of demarcation between the two—left to the bargaining sessions. He himself demurs, ending, “This is not a full blueprint for Palestine. The hard details must be left to the negotiators.” Like most interpreters of the Palestinian strategy, nowhere in Khalidi’s discourse do we find explicit use of, let alone support for, either “partition” or “territorial compromise.” In truth, peace formulations by Palestinians, be it on the West Bank or abroad, are really a competition for who can pen or verbalize the most enlightened presentation, hinting at moderation and compromise but without uttering the formula of territorial partition. And without being seen as seeming to conspire—least of all with the Israelis—to dismember an idealized patrimony. Palestinians would say you do not easily or readily compromise with usurpers. If this characterized state of mind is anywhere near true, it prompts underscoring how little frank discussion there is in Palestinian circles of the need—not to say the wisdom, justice, advisability, or merit—for a twostate solution. And of a West Bank territorial repartition as arguably the most effective instrument for realizing this. It remains to be shown that the Palestinian national movement and its present leadership have fully come to appreciate and to critique their own history by applying the same tools of revisionist historiography as wielded, for instance, in the United States and in Israeli academic and leftist circles. Had the previous two generations accepted the partition plans of 1937 or 1947 they might long since have enjoyed the normalcy and the legitimacy that ordinarily come with independent statehood. Insistence upon possessing the entire space left them dispossessed, instead, and without any of Palestine. Or, as Shlomo Gazit phrases it in game theoretical language, “The Palestinian extreme zero-sum position left them with the zero.”36 Nor does it do much good for Israelis or even more distant outside observers to note this. It is for the Palestinians themselves to absorb perhaps the greatest lesson of their modern political history. Which also leaves them still wrestling with what they alone have the right to define as their foremost political mission at the present moment. Resistance? Liberation? Or independence? By liberation, do they mean national liberation or liberating territories? Since it is obvious their goal is liberating both people and land, must it be all Palestinians and all lands regarded as Palestinian? What then of their Palestinian diaspora in Hashemite Jordan? Of a historic accommodation with a Jewish state res-

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ident anywhere in former mandatory Palestine? And if independence is the primary goal, then independence over the entire “homeland”—or within it? At this point I am going to sacrifice narrative continuity by inserting a personal note. In authoring this book, no part has caused me more selfintrospection—to the point of daring to voice it here—than these two sections devoted to the comparative positions of Israelis and Palestinians on the idea of (a) compromising Palestine and (b) repartitioning the West Bank while keeping Jerusalem intact. In contrasting Palestinian conformity with Israeli pluralism on these front-burner issues, I am fully aware of the more immediate implications. Describing the Palestinian stand as less accommodating, indeed uncompromising, on possible territorial reference points east of the green line, and compounding this by citing Israel’s greater flexibility on a land split so long as it ends up with chunks of West Bank real estate, exposes me to three forms (if not more!) of academic and Middle East criticism. To wit: the author is obviously prejudiced, short on scholarship, and less than perceptive about Middle East and Arab-Israeli affairs. Anticipating such criticism, I wish to clarify my position, even in advance of the critics. Regarding the bias and the scholarship, Israeli and Palestinian academics are no different. We are equally vulnerable, subject almost by definition to automatic attacks of partisanship and subjectivity. It boils down to wanting to put one’s own country in a favorable light while casting aspersions on the side opposite as an unworthy, because unforthcoming, peace partner. Yet, as readers of the preceding chapters have found, criticism has been leveled at Israeli leaders where warranted. I am opposed, however, to any settlement terms that might put the State of Israel under direct risk. Or that write off for all time and future generations the right of the Jewish people to believe in their inseparable bond to Eretz Yisrael (just as I don’t believe the Palestinians can be asked to forfeit their possession claims). With the above proviso, so, too, do I support meeting to the greatest extent possible (a) legitimate and (b) reasonable Palestinian claims, primarily by facilitating political self-determination through the formula of grand historic “partition plus” compromise. As for scholarship in research, there are standards for thoroughness and there is the law of probable inexhaustibility of materials. This is especially true in contemporary world and Mideast regional affairs. But, I have good reason to suspect, all the more apparent in studying adversarial re-

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lationships that carry their own constraints against accessibility, candor, full disclosure, and the like. Nevertheless, in fairness to the Palestinian side, an honest effort has been made by a non-Palestinian to probe statements by notable or authoritative Palestinian spokesmen. Not exhaustively, and resting primarily on pronouncements translated from the Arabic or else delivered in English or Hebrew in the original. These official statements, interviews, journal articles, and official statements are as reliable as anything we have to work with, and certainly representative. But aren’t these materials being used selectively? Here, my answer is, Absolutely. I continue to sift through Arab sources precisely in the hope of discovering nuances that might support my central theses. To repeat the formula: there is no peace without compromise; no compromise without territorial compromise; and compromise, by definition, obligates give and take on the part of both direct parties. Given my concern with and interest in a final peaceful end to this many sided, life-consuming conflict through territorially and politically compromising Palestine, I have every possible incentive in playing up, not downplaying, a rising constituency of support for redividing western Palestine. In other words, evidence of significant movement away from an all-or-nothing position on the West Bank by both sides, if anything, best serves my purpose. Which leaves the third matter about perceptions of Middle East and Arab-Israeli affairs. In scientific event analysis, human perceptions being what they are, and the Middle East being what it is—fluid, complex, and controversial—there is always going to be more than one interpretation of any given issue. As proof, I note here one reputable scholar’s view of the respective Israeli and Palestinian positions that is diametrically opposed to mine. Claiming that an “apparent role reversal” has occurred, Columbia University’s Naomi Rosenberg argues, “whereas in 1947, partition was accepted by Jews and rejected by Arabs” in 1997 “partition is accepted by Arafat and apparently rejected by Netanyahu.”37 I happen to think the role reversal is, indeed, more apparent than real. Nor am I quite sure of what Arafat’s acceptance of partition is based upon, other than the ambiguous 1998 statements, or what he means by “partition” in terms other than full withdrawal by Israel back to the green line, including the Jerusalem sector. What is on the record, however, is Netanyahu’s implementation of the 1997 Hebron agreement and consent to double-digit redeployment. Again, however, my argument is not either with or against Dr. Rosenberg so much as it is for honest differences of viewpoint and interpretation.

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There is a world of difference between willful misrepresentation and misreading. I may be faulted for the latter, but I don’t think my personal interpretation and analysis of the powerful ideological-theological checks and political balances against the trinity of Jewish nationalism, Zionist rights, and West Bank territorial compromise with Israel are either baseless or an inaccurate reading of the mainstream Palestinian stand. For that matter, let me turn the tables around. Would-be critics are themselves hereby invited to share the nettle or burden of proof with me. Indeed, Arab and Palestinian colleagues can do peace a great service, reinforcing my case for West Bank compromise, by volunteering on-therecord statements of Palestinian endorsement for “territorial compromise.” My gratitude is readily acknowledged in advance. An “elusive middle ground” has been used here and as the title of this chapter in a figurative rather than literal sense. Theoretically, at least, the statesman’s manual does leave room for precisely and evenhandedly “splitting the difference” in a classic fifty-fifty equation.38 But where it seems to me the idea of a middle ground can be applied to greater practical effect is in two different political contexts. Bilaterally: to the IsraeliPalestinian peace negotiations, where the parties until now have never managed to agree upon who should give up what. But also inner-directed: to Israelis and Palestinians respectively, where each collective is struggling separately and apart to reconcile what might have been and what ought to be, on the one hand, with, on the other hand, what is and what can still be. This serves to reinforce a point made in the opening chapters of this book. One definite prerequisite for achieving ripeness is the presence, on both sides, of responsible pragmatic leadership. Nationalist leaders that Israeli historian Yosef Gorny labels “revolutionaries of the here and now”—possessors of a vision bounded by present-day reality—in contrast to dogmatists unfettered by such practical considerations.39 The elusive middle ground is where prudence and the politics of partition finally meet and converge.

Chapter 9

Safe Passages

In any scheme of dividing Palestine the primary difficulty lies in the fact that no line can be drawn which would separate all the Arabs from all the Jews. —from the Palestine Royal Commission report (July 1937)

In the early chapters on ripening conflicts we stressed the need for a road map in the figurative sense of peace constructs and strategies. Having embarked on a road to peace, all of us require clear directions for arriving at an agreed exit from the Arab-Israel conflict. But now, in capping our discussion of the physical, security, and economic agenda items, the emphasis shifts to the importance of road maps in the most literal sense. One of the main themes underpinning this study is the idea of interconnectedness, deriving from geopolitical (i.e., human and spatial) realities. I now invite the reader’s attention, therefore, to the safe passages issue. It is arguably one of the finest if not absolutely best confirmations of this thesis that Israeli Jews and Palestinian Arabs are fated to live together, however much separately. Yet “safe passages” is noteworthy in another regard. Having been born in and kept alive through constructive ambiguity, it promises to be an item of great contention in going beyond negotiation to implement any terms of a settlement and peace plan premised upon the illusory notion of two separate state entities. The final status negotiations can be counted on to revolve around three contentious principles in particular: political status, authority, and powers; security (incorporating economic viability and ecology); and territorial expanse, whether measured in acreage or percentage points. To these must now be added a fourth set of mischievous principles. Those of territorial integrity and territorial contiguity. Entities, Enclaves, and Contiguity At the height of the landmark July 1937 parliamentary debate over dividing Palestine, Lord Samuel, speaking as an authority fully conversant

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with the Holy Land’s unique human and physical properties, nevertheless employed a European frame of reference only too painfully familiar to his English audience. In censuring the proposed partition plan, the former first high commissioner for Palestine derided it for incorporating some of the worst features of the Versailles peace treaties: in particular, those provisions for imposing “a Saar, a Polish Corridor and half a dozen Danzigs and Memels into a country the size of Wales.”1 Thus, in a single devastating sentence, did he succeed in puncturing the initial aura and pristine appeal of the territorial compromise formula. Pro-partitionists at the time promised to bestow upon each of the two ethnic communities in Palestine a separate economic, cultural, and political existence. And, yet, despite their best efforts at a clean cut, the Peel mapmakers had been unable to assure the projected Arab and Jewish states the minimum of territorial integrity. As evidenced by his disparaging references to enclaves and to the “Polish Corridor,” in effect Samuel’s main objection to the plan was that it made no sense on the ground because of noncontiguity. Today, despite six intervening decades, little has changed in the basic geopolitical equation. On the contrary, from the standpoint of being able to implement an updated version of territorial compromise, matters have become distinctly worse given the immensely more complicated Israeli-Palestinian demographic spread and overlapping Arab-Jewish residential patterns. So complicated in fact that the situation has elements of sheer absurdity. When the “Gaza-Jericho first” step-by-step peace strategy was first announced in 1993, few observers, even the more sophisticated, bothered to consult a map. Otherwise, they might have asked the obvious: how were ordinary Palestinians physically to get from one extremity to the other? And what prospects were there for Yasir Arafat and his fledgling Palestinian Authority to integrate and effectively administer the two detached “provinces”? By remote control across more than 90 kilometers (nearly 60 miles) of Israeli land and airspace? By shuttle government? Since then, absurdity piles upon absurdity. Thus, for instance, in responding to four attacks that left more than fifty Israelis dead in February-March 1996, the government of Shimon Peres ordered a 2–3-kilometerwide security zone established east of the 350-kilometer-long pre-1967 border. An extensive system of controls were established to limit and regulate the movement of Palestinian labor and goods from the West Bank and Gaza Strip into and out of Israel. The reason given by the Cabinet for the exclusionary zone and for these checks was to forge “coexistence in security and peace” between Israel and the Palestinians. The

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contradiction between controlled access, security zones and the idea of Israeli-Palestinian separation, on the one hand, and coexistence and safe passage, on the other, may have escaped many of the Cabinet members. Just as, months and millions of dollars later, citing thousands of Palestinians without permits who constantly cross freely into Israel by foot and by car via the broken seam along the entire length of the “green line,” in May 1998 the State Comptroller’s Office admitted, “de facto, there is almost free and unsupervised passage between Judea, Samaria and Israel.”2 Given the situation, the comptroller’s report pronounced the thirty-fourkilometer boundary between Israel and the West Bank completely porous, hence ineffective. The prevailing situation therefore represents the height of absurdity. Ambitious programs are adopted, heavy expenditure appropriated, manpower assigned from the IDF and police units, and every sort of device from gravel roads and bypass roads to sophisticated surveillance equipment. And yet the phenomenon of car thefts from Israel to the PA territories increases at a rate such to be declared a “national plague.” While the declared “safe passage” policy of strictly demanding all Palestinians entering or leaving Israel to pass through three or four supervised border crossings remains unenforced and ineffective. For added measure, the more earnestly Israeli law enforcement authorities work at dealing operationally with the problem, by tightly stitching together and closing “the seam,” the greater the criticism from government leaders who charge that the enforcement measures are politically motivated and really aim at reinstating the green line as the final peace border. The goal of free but also safe passage is a mockery, perhaps, but also a source of present and future concern. Heightened insecurity for Israelis while at the same time a source of inconvenience, harassment, and personal embarrassment for ordinary Palestinians. Peering further down the road, having committed itself to making adequate provision for contiguous safe passage between the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, what kind of Israel will there be with Palestinian transit rights through its sovereign space? But if denied such contiguous links, how valid, how viable is a Palestinian state or entity split into two unconnected parts? Conversely, how much credibility can there be to an “effective Israeli presence,” civilian and military, in Judea and Samaria when Palestinian police, in turn, wield their own prerogative of sealing off access roads to non-Palestinians? In short, safe passage represents the operative equivalent in current diplomatic parlance to Samuel’s outmoded interwar “Polish Corridor” analogy.

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Partition as nightmare? Or as the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel? Whether the principles of safe passage, freedom of movement, and contiguity are or are not given practical effect in the permanent status final accords, and, if yes, the precise manner by which Israelis and Palestinians extend these rights to each other, will largely determine partition’s fate. That is how critical the ground rules issue really is and yet how little understood in other than the most general terms. Corridors of Power Coined as part of the Oslo understandings, the seemingly innocuous agenda item safe passage (in Hebrew: hama’avar habatuach) surely offers one of the more telling examples of constructive ambiguity in recent Middle Eastern peacemaking. Its origins lie in the Declaration of Principles (DOP) on Interim SelfGovernment Arrangements, dated September 13, 1993. Article 4, outlining the jurisdiction of the Palestinian interim self-government authority, states: “The two sides view the West Bank and the Gaza Strip as a single territorial unit”—a unit, moreover, whose “integrity will be preserved during the interim period.” In effect, Israel thereby committed itself to the principle of territorial contiguity as legally binding in all future negotiations, since it follows that if the two Arab-designated regions are in fact to be regarded as one they must also be geographically linked. Indeed, Annex 2 of the DOP enshrines the term safe passage for the first time. In a “Protocol on Withdrawal of Israeli Forces From the Gaza Strip and Jericho Area,” pursuant to their joint pledge the signatories accepted other immediate undertakings, including clause 3(g): “Arrangements for a safe passage for persons and transportation between the Gaza Strip and Jericho area,” with only the technical details remaining to be fleshed out in the next scheduled round of negotiations. Further clarifications were presented on May 4, 1994, with the followup Cairo Agreement on the Gaza Strip and the Jericho area. In the first instance, Article 7 emphasizes that while the new accord relates only to Gaza and Jericho, these two cities and their environs are in fact “an integral part” of the larger and more extensive West Bank and Gaza Strip that would need to be linked at a later stage. In the second instance, under Article 23, six of the final clauses reaffirm the two contracting parties’ shared view of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip as “a single territorial unit.”

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It is, however, the third reference in this chain of progression that is the most direct, the most explicit, and therefore the most instructive. Article 9, “Arrangements for Safe Passage Between the Gaza Strip and the Jericho Area,” spells out for the first time in considerable detail the specific modalities for effecting “safe passage,” thereby revealing some of the deeper implications behind the concept. Because of its importance for our subsequent analysis, Article 9 deserves full citation. Cairo Agreement on the Gaza Strip and the Jericho Area (4 May 1994) Article IX Arrangements for Safe Passage Between the Gaza Strip and the Jericho Area 1. General a. There shall be safe passage between the Gaza Strip and the Jericho Area for residents of the Gaza Strip and the Jericho Area and visitors to these areas from abroad, as detailed in this Article. b. Israel will ensure safe passage during daylight hours (from sunrise to sunset) for persons and transportation. c. safe passage will be effected via the following designated crossing points: (1) the Erez crossing point; and (2) the Vered Yericho crossing point. d. Israel will make safe passage available through one or more of the routes delineated on attached map no. 3. 2. The Usage of Safe Passage a. As detailed below, persons using safe passage shall carry, in addition to the personal and vehicle documentation, the following documents: (1) a safe passage card; and (2) (for drivers only) a vehicle safe passage permit. Arrangements for implementation of safe passage, as well as modalities for the issuance by Israel of safe passage cards and vehicle safe passage permits, shall be discussed and agreed in the CAC (the Joint Civil Affairs Coordination and Cooperation Committee). b. Residents of the Gaza Strip and the Jericho Area in possession of a permit enabling them to enter Israel will be able to use this permit as a safe passage card. c. Safe passage cards and vehicle safe passage permits shall be stamped by the Israeli authorities at the crossing point with the time of departure from the crossing point and the estimated time of arrival.

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d. Residents of the Gaza Strip and the Jericho Area who are denied entry into Israel may be permitted by Israel to use safe passage in accordance with special arrangements to be made in each individual case through the JSC (the joint Coordination and Cooperation Committee for mutual security purposes). e. Special arrangements will apply with respect to passage of Palestinian leaders, senior Palestinian Authority officials and distinguished personalities. The CAC will define the scope and nature of these special arrangements, in consultation with the JSC. f. The mode of passage of Palestinian policemen on duty, between the Gaza Strip and the Jericho Area, will be coordinated through the JSC. g. Any additional matters relating to the usage of safe passage will be coordinated through the JSC. 3. Passage and Mode of Transit a. Persons and vehicles in transit under these arrangements shall neither break their journey nor depart from the designated routes, and shall complete the transit within the designated time stamped on their safe passage cards and permits, unless a delay is caused by a medical emergency or a technical breakdown. b. Persons using safe passage shall be subject to the laws and regulations applicable in Israel and in the West Bank respectively. c. Persons and vehicles using safe passage shall not carry explosives, firearms or other weapons or ammunition, except for special cases that will be agreed to in the JSC. 4. General Provisions Regarding the Routes a. The above arrangements shall in no way affect the status of the routes used for safe passage. b. Routes used for safe passage shall be closed on Yom Kippur, Israel’s Memorial Day and Israel’s Independence Day. c. Without prejudice to the use of safe passage, Israel may, for security or safety reasons, temporarily modify the arrangements for safe passage. Notice of such temporary modification shall be given to the Palestinian authority through the JSC. At least one route of safe passage shall, however, remain open. d. Israel shall notify the Palestinian Authority of incidents involving persons using safe passage.

For purposes of comparison, the one other important safe passage– related document, Article 10 under Annex I (“Protocol Concerning Redeployment and Security Arrangements”) of the Interim Agreement on the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, dated September 28, 1995, and signed in Washington, D.C, also merits being quoted in its entirety.

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Interim Agreement on the West Bank and the Gaza Strip (September 1995) Article X under Annex I (“Protocol Concerning Redeployment and Security Arrangements”) Article X Safe Passage 1. General a. There shall be a safe passage connecting the West Bank with the Gaza Strip for movement of persons, vehicles and goods, as detailed in this Article. b. Israel will ensure safe passage for persons and transportation during daylight hours (from sunrise to sunset) or as otherwise agreed by the JSC, but in any event not less than 10 hours a day. c. Safe passage through Israel between the West Bank and the Gaza Strip will be effected via the following designated crossing points: (1) the Erez crossing point (for persons and vehicles only); (2) the Karni (commercial) crossing point (for goods only); (3) the Tarkumya crossing point; and (4) an additional crossing point around Mevo Horon. d. Israel will make such passage available through the routes indicated on attached map no. 6. e. Consistent with Article XXXI, paragraph 6 of the Agreement, the arrangements included in this Article are without prejudice to the permanent status negotiations. 2. Use of Safe Passage a. As detailed below, persons using the safe passage shall carry, in addition to personal and vehicle documentation, the following documents: (1) a safe passage card; and (2) (for drivers only) a vehicle safe passage permit. Arrangements for the implementation of the safe passage usage, as well as modalities for the issuance by Israel of safe passage cards and vehicle safe passage permits, shall be discussed and agreed in the JSC, in consultation with the CAC. b. Residents of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip in possession of a permit enabling them to enter Israel will be able to use this permit as a safe passage card. c. Safe passage cards and vehicle safe passage permits shall be stamped by the Israeli authorities at the crossing point, with the time of departure from the crossing point and the estimated time of arrival. d. Israel may deny the use of its territory for safe passage by persons who have seriously or repeatedly violated the safe passage provisions detailed in this Article.

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e. Persons who are denied entry into Israel will use safe passage by means of shuttle buses which will be escorted by the Israel Police and which will operate from 7:00 AM to 2:00 PM on two days of every week. The exact date and times of such operation will be coordinated through the JSC. Applications by persons denied entry to Israel to use safe passage must be submitted to, and agreed upon in, the relevant DCO (Joint District Coordination Office) at least five days prior to the planned journey. f. Special arrangements will apply with respect to the passage of Palestinian leaders, senior Council officials, distinguished personalities and guests of the Ra’ees (chairman/president) of the Council. The CAC will define the scope and nature of the special arrangements, in consultation with the JSC. g. The movement of Palestinian policemen on duty through the safe passage between the West Bank and the Gaza Strip will be coordinated through the JSC. h. Any additional matters relating to the usage of safe passage will be coordinated through the JSC. 3. Mode of Use of Safe Passage a. Persons and vehicles using safe passage under these arrangements shall neither break their journey nor depart from the designated routes, and shall complete the passage within the designated time stamped on their safe passage cards and permits, unless a delay is caused by a medical emergency or a technical breakdown. b. Persons using the safe passage through Israel shall be subject to Israeli law. c. Persons and vehicles using the safe passage shall not carry explosives, firearms or other weapons or ammunition, except for special cases that may be agreed in the JSC. 4. General Provisions Regarding the Safe Passage Routes a. The above arrangements shall in no way affect the status of the safe passage and its routes. b. The safe passage arrangements will not be available on Yom Kippur, Israel’s Memorial Day and Israel’s Independence Day. c. Israel may, for security or safety reasons, temporarily halt the operation of a safe passage route or modify the passage arrangements while ensuring that one of the routes is open for safe passage. Notice of such temporary closure or modification shall be given to the JSC. d. Israel shall notify the Council of incidents involving persons using safe passage routes through the JSC.

Such extensive provisions in both the Cairo and Washington documents notwithstanding, the safe passage issue proved more intractable than an-

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ticipated and, if anything, increasingly difficult to finalize. To just what extent is perhaps best evidenced in the Netanyahu-Arafat “Note for the Record” of January 15, 1997. We find listed, and, indeed, given pride of position among the “Outstanding Interim Agreement Issues” still pending: a. b. c. d. e. f.

Safe Passage Gaza Airport Gaza port Passages Economic, financial, civilian and security issues People-to-people

Four of the six negotiating items still awaiting further clarification five years after Oslo directly relate to future links between Gaza, Israel, and the designated eastern Palestinian area. Let this serve as our first observation about safe passages: how central and how extraordinarily sensitive a peace issue it really is—for Israel, for the Palestinians, and for any Israeli-Palestinian partition-based disengagement. Reading Between the Lines This leads us to a second observation. Despite the distinct possibility that one or more roads will run across Israeli territory from east to west and bisect the country, the entire safe passage issue: (a) has been dealt with over the heads of most Israeli leaders and certainly the public at large and, consequently, (b) has tended to evolve with little if any real grasp of the deeper ramifications. Israeli decision makers in 1993 endorsed the triad of general principles—territorial integrity, contiguity, and safe passage—without serious government discussion in Jerusalem. Without prior consultation among military and technical experts. Without detailed position papers. Without Knesset or media debate. And without first thinking through the economic, security, transportation, and myriad other on-the-ground implications. At the highest official level, reaching swift agreement in conditions of absolute secrecy with the Palestinians over the most basic and broad guiding principles took precedence over all else for those few individuals privy to the Norwegian secret gambit. In their rush to achieve a strategic diplomatic breakthrough they were either forced by the pace of events or else quite prepared to worry only later about smaller operative details. Also, in their supreme confidence, they inclined to regard matters like safe pas-

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sage as relatively inconsequential; as essentially legalistic, technical, and procedural. Otherwise, it is incomprehensible how or why they might have consented to such sweeping commitments and principles without thinking through in advance some of their deeper and more far-reaching implications. Besides being relegated to the status of a second-order problem, safe passage and road guarantees were also assumed to be subject to the new Oslo spirit of cooperation and mutual goodwill. Moreover, the DOP satisfied Israeli core preconditions, above all, exclusive responsibility for security. West Bank Palestinians would be allowed to travel freely to and from Gaza—but only as a privilege to be conferred or retracted by Israel, through Israeli territory and under strict Israeli safety controls. Accord-

18. The 1994 Cairo “Safe Passages” Map

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ing to this line of reasoning, Israel could afford therefore to be forthcoming. Because the safe passage clause has been treated as a nonissue and kept outside the public domain, of marginal importance at best, as late as 1997 few Israelis knew the problem existed, or what it meant, let alone its gravity and direct implications. From a domestic political perspective, were Articles 9 and 10 of the 1994 and 1995 documents, plus the two accompanying maps, to have been widely circulated and discussed in the daily press, becoming common knowledge, they might have had a definite effect in coloring public sentiment regarding the wisdom of Oslo, the wages of peace, and the feasibility of separatist solutions. Whether intentional or not, Prime Minister Rabin’s Knesset presentation in May 1994, for instance, referred ingenuously only to the likeli-

19. The 1995 Washington “Safe Passages” Map

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hood of problems (unspecified) arising at the points of passage “into the Gaza and Jericho areas, both from outside the borders and from inside and outside Israel.” He neglected to mention the ma’avar batuach between Jericho and Gaza. In the critical initial post-Oslo period the public eye was in fact drawn to protracted wrangling with the PLO over the matter of passages. But only at the extremities (i.e., the border crossings from Egypt to Gaza, as well as from Jordan into the West Bank). Whereas, however incredible, what remained unaddressed was the critical “middle ground”—literally, that belt of land traversing the interior of Israel from one end to the other, including population centers, and, in addition, Israel’s central airspace. Doubly fortuitous for government practitioners of constructive ambiguity, more pressing, controversial, and newsworthy issues like Hebron, terrorism, and settlement policy have combined to distract attention away from the safe passage issue per se at later stages of the Israeli-Palestinian negotiations. Figuratively speaking, geopolitical reference points like the Allenby Bridge, Hebron’s Jewish quarter, and Jerusalem’s subterranean tunnels have repeatedly captured and consistently monopolized the attention of Israeli and international commentators alike, in contrast to the prospect of Palestinian highways, lateral roads, and transportation corridors inside Israel proper. Moving Between the Lines Although spared academic, journalistic, and even partisan political scrutiny, the meaning of safe passage nonetheless has undergone interesting and significant transformation. One trend has already been mentioned: extending the geographic radius from limited (Gaza and Jericho) to expansive (the entire Gaza Strip as well as all of the West Bank). Still, this dynamic—marking the inevitable conversion of ma’avar batuach from an abstraction and a convenient catchphrase into an earthly blueprint—can be plotted along three additional lines. These are • from vagueness to greater specificity—although not necessarily clarity; • from single-dimensional (a land corridor) to multilayered (air, rail, gas, and pipelines); • from Arab dependency to a “two-way street” whereby Israelis will eventually find themselves equally dependent upon the Palestinian authorities for their own freedom of movement anywhere along the West Bank. Each of these trends emerges in sharper relief from a closer reading and content analysis of the available documentation.

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The Devil Is in the Details In the first place, there are any number of basic questions and sticking points that readily come to mind, some of them perhaps more obvious than others. To begin with: Just how many access roads are required to fulfill Israel’s pledge? What are the points of entry and exit? From exactly where to where on the map? What kinds of roads? Existing ones, with Palestinian and Israeli traffic merging, or highways specially constructed for this purpose? Special passenger buses? A railway and freight cars? If Palestinian, how wide are the corridors to be? Flat surfaced, underground tunnels, or elevated overpasses? Under whose jurisdiction, and according to which legal system?2 Should Israel be permitted to arrest a Palestinian traveling between the two areas? Whose flag will fly? Whose sovereignty? Joint? Israeli? Palestinian? What about extraterritoriality? Possible international status or supervision? And what will be the status of individual Palestinians in transit? Where are the billion or more shekels conservatively estimated as the start-up costs for building three terminals and laying the road foundations to come from?4 This pales in comparison with the billion-dollar figure loosely bandied about for more elaborate elevated overpasses or subterranean tunnels. Who bears financial responsibility for road maintenance? Will Israel have the right to charge toll fees on a daily or monthly basis for any Palestinian traveling these roads? Should Arabs desiring to traverse Israel from sundown Friday to sunset Saturday night be inconvenienced, or even be prevented from doing so, simply because it happens to be the Jewish Sabbath? Last, and by logic, the goal of West Bank–Gaza integration—for the two are patently not intended to exist as isolated provinces—implies more than land routes only. Full implementation of the safe passage principle arguably should—or could—result in a network of oil and natural gas pipelines, a Palestinian national water carrier, as well as a railroad system and airlanes crisscrossing Israel. Indicative of the complexities, but also of the piecemeal way they have been handled, Israel and the Palestinian Authority were reported in February 1998 to have reached agreement on at least one point. Air flights from anywhere in the Arab world can only follow a flight pattern proceeding from El-Arish in Egypt to the newly built Dahaniya air terminal

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in the Gaza Strip, not from the east across the West Bank and Israel to Dahaniya.5 Successive protocols still leave ample room for uncertainty about inspection and travel procedures. So, too, regarding security provisions. Effective Safeguards? That Israel bears sole responsibility for security is clear from the wording of the preliminary outline agreements. In belated acknowledgment of this responsibility, and of the many political as well as technical complications arising from it, a high-level interdepartmental committee was later set up, with Ministry of Internal Security director general Ami Plont as its head, to draft detailed safe passage proposals for presentation to Palestinian counterparts. As of late 1998, however, their on-again, off-again desultory discussions had made few real inroads toward resolving this one single and seemingly mundane issue of such great import, nevertheless, for the smooth working of peace and normalization in the daily lives of Israelis and Palestinians. In rereading Articles 9 and 10 one begins to sense the great potential for misunderstanding and friction in the enforcement of this authority by Israel. In manning the border checkpoints into Israel, for example, and in seemingly routine inspection procedures. More specifically, in imposing strict standards for car registration, driver’s licenses, and vehicle inspection. In turning back agricultural produce or livestock not meeting Israeli health specifications. In delaying transport of West Bank export products destined for the Mediterranean coast or, in the opposite direction, Gaza Strip products earmarked for sale east of the Jordan River, at a time when fully 90 percent of items exported by Palestinians pass through Israel and nearly 90 percent of the goods Palestinians import come from Israel.6 In extending courtesies to Palestinian officials, workers, students, overseas tourists, or pilgrims from Arab countries and foreign dignitaries visiting the Palestine Authority. Another distinct issue is the very practical security question of how to monitor the movements of an average of over eight hundred trucks entering and leaving the Gaza Strip each day. Plus thousands of Palestinian laborers and businessmen who, once having gained admission, are in transit through the central urban heartland of Israel. Clause 3(a) of both the 1994 and 1995 versions provides that “persons and vehicles using safe passage under these arrangements shall neither break their journey nor depart from the designated routes, and shall complete the passage within the designated time stamped on their safe passage cards and permits, unless a delay is caused by a medical emergency or a technical breakdown.”

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No matter how carefully worded, there is legitimate room for doubting whether effective controls can be exercised to ensure against these strictures being violated or abused. Or in guaranteeing each Palestinian entrant will in fact transact his or her business inside Israel within the given time limit and return to the West Bank or Gaza at the end of the day before the entry permit expires—all this without setting off security alarms. Highly instructive of the complications involved are details for a new inspection system presented to a committee of the Knesset by the Israel Ports Authority, in charge of supervising the border crossings. The inspection plan calls for lorries with special permits to travel to and from approved locations, such as factories and warehouses, in order to pick up or deliver produce. These “sterile” trucks would pass through a tunnellike entrance between Gaza and the Israeli side of the border and then be tracked to points in Israel by electric homing devices.7 The purpose of these devices is twofold: to significantly improve the efficiency of the passage while at the same time ensuring Arab drivers do not deviate from their assigned designation. Another measure now in force at the Erez terminal employs eight sophisticated cargo X-ray machines, paid for by the United States, to help speed inspecting transborder cargo.8 Only afterward did it become apparent that, leaving the question of their effectiveness and efficiency aside, measures like these have the unintended effect of substantially raising the cost of transporting Arab goods across the border, including heavier fees. The feared macroeconomic effect is a drop in the volume of trade between Israel and the Palestine Authority. Terror prevention continues to be the highest priority for Israeli civilian, military, and police authorities. It will weigh heavily now and in the future on how strict, or relaxed, inspection procedures will be enforced at border checkpoints. Even in an era of open borders and safe passage, additional pressing concerns extend to drug-running, dealing in arms, smuggling of contraband goods, and other forms of criminal activity. Nor need one look far, or too closely, to detect additional loopholes with the potential for creating an Israeli-Palestinian contretemps. Imagine a scenario in which the Palestinian self-government, faced with an emergency of its own because of disorders either in the Gaza Strip or on the West Bank, urgently needs to redeploy security units by land or air from one zone to the other, only to encounter a refusal by Israel. In a similar vein: What if Israel, again, perhaps as a form of political pressure or in retaliation for an act of terrorism against civilian targets, were to ex-

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ercise its right—as it has on several occasions in recent years—to impose restrictions on free movement? Even going so far as to enforce closure of the border crossing points, thus halting all traffic and denying West Bankers access to the sea and to Mediterranean seaports. To make my point even clearer: more than sealing off the West Bank and Gaza from Israel, closures have the effect of sealing off the West Bank from Gaza. This gives the separation formula new meaning. Going beyond divorcing Israelis from Palestinians, the absence of agreed mechanisms for assuring mutual free, safe, and secure passage for Arabs and Israelis alike implies detaching and isolating the two constituent parts of the projected Palestinian state. The effects upon Gaza are particularly ominous, based upon their history of separate development from the West Bank and the experience thus far with closure. The absence of smooth trade routes to markets in Jordan and of port revenues from West Bank commerce, combined with the inability to find regular employment in Israel, only works to reinforce the impression of nearly a million Gazans kept in confinement in a narrow area 45 kilometers long, 10 kilometers wide that they, too, are living in their own perpetual state of siege. The 1998 B’tselem report goes so far as to accuse some Israeli authorities with the ulterior motive of precisely wanting politically to divide Palestinian rule into two separate weak areas. Intentional or not, the cumulative effect of repeated and sustained closures is to accustom Palestinians in the Gaza and the West Bank communities to economic, political, social, familial, and personal separation. On the other hand, Israel’s security predicament deepens once the concept of safe passage is extended from land routes to sky lanes. Leave aside the normal hazards of civilian air traffic congestion and the proliferation of air corridors to accommodate Palestinian as well as Royal Jordanian airlines. What is to prevent the Palestinians from taking advantage of the safe passage provision, using helicopters or aircraft to transport weapons, attempt secret landings inside Israel, conduct aerial reconnaissance flights, and photograph sensitive civilian as well as military installations? The very thought of Arab extremists using overflight permits to drop explosives over Israel, or to poison water reservoirs from the air, is of course entirely inconsistent with the fundamental Oslo premise of future peaceful relations. Based upon logic and western European norms, private and commercial vehicles deserve to go unescorted from Gaza to the West Bank and from Israel in either direction. Obviously, in a climate of trust not only are all safe passage–related issues capable of resolution, but a safe pas-

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sage regime functioning smoothly might actually epitomize the boon of Israeli-Palestinian jointness, or interdependence, through separation. On the other hand, the record until now in trying to set up this safe passage apparatus on a routine statutory basis has been uniformly discouraging. Bridges, Buffers, or Barriers? Rather than smoothing the way by serving as the first test case for building patterns of cooperation, the improvised safepassage regime instituted since 1993 upon Israel’s withdrawal from the twin cities of Gaza and Jericho, if anything, has actually aggravated Israeli-Palestinian tensions. First, in day-to-day people-to-people relations—the logistics of safe passage, and, second, in official bilateral negotiations—the politics of safe passage. People to People In this long and uneasy interim phase both the Israeli and the local Arab press pick up and report unpleasant experiences occurring on an almost daily basis at one of the checkposts leading from the Gaza Strip into Israel. All relate in some way to the dual exercise of the right of passage by Palestinians, on the one hand, and, on the other, the Israeli authorities’ right to regulate these movements over and through their territory. Although routinely reported upon, the trouble is that these incidents are usually mentioned in passing and then immediately forgotten, precisely because they are treated (a) as isolated incidents rather than symptomatic of something quite fundamental and (b) as human interest stories instead of what they really are, a political issue. The improvised, unsystematic “system” that has remained in force merely means that any Palestinian innocently seeking to travel to or from Gaza and the West Bank must face double bureaucratic harassment. Once, in appealing for approval from PA officials empowered to pass on passage requests to the Israeli authorities. Again, in dealing with Israeli authorities and border guards who have the right to approve or reject the travel plans, facilitate or delay the actual physical movement of people or goods. Indeed, adding to the absurdities inherent in the whole safe passage issue, it is usually easier to enter Israel from either Gaza or the West Bank than to cross Israel from Gaza to the West Bank and back. A few determined Gaza students have even taken to flying via Egypt to Amman, Jordan, and traveling from there by bus or car into the West Bank to pursue their studies. The litany of specific documented grievances continues to mount.9 At the principal Israeli points of exit and entry near or at the green line, and

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between Gaza and Israel, but also at the various checkposts and barriers erected on roads inside the Gaza Strip and the West Bank separating Jewish settlements from Arab towns, and vice versa. These can and have ranged from simple inconveniences and personal indignities to official protests and even an international incident or two. Example: in July 1998 IDF military personnel manning a roadblock at a key junction inside the Gaza Strip made an on-the-spot decision not to allow PA supply minister Abdul Azziz Shahin, possessor of a VIP pass, to pass with a convoy of twenty-two vehicles on the coastal road near the protected Jewish settlements of Gush Katif. This led to a tense standoff for several hours with Palestinian forces in the strip, as armed personnel immediately retaliated by blocking other junctions and access roads to Israeli settlers on their way home to the Gush. While a huge traffic jam developed, each side, positioned behind makeshift barricades and guns at the ready, accused the other of willful provocation. A compromise was finally negotiated that saw layers of closure upon closure peeled back: the original PA convoy passed through the Israeli roadblock, the Palestinians cleared the junctions they were blocking, and, in exchange, the IDF lifted the closure it had imposed during the crisis over the Gaza Strip as a whole.10 Example: medical emergencies. In August 1998 the media and private groups like the Physicians for Human Rights association accused IDF guards imposing closure and curfew on Hebron of probable cause in the subsequent death of two infants whose mothers had been delayed on the way to hospital delivery rooms.11 Similar tragedies attributed to often unwarranted and impeded passage imposed by overzealous, bored, or insensitive border guards had taken place previously, and in the Gaza Strip as well. Example: for reasons not entirely clear, Israeli border policies offer the distinct impression of being stricter with a comparatively small number of qualified college aspirants than with the thousands of uneducated day workers employed inside Israel in menial tasks. Over a thousand university students from Gaza, barred under sustained closure orders from returning to campuses on the West Bank, have forfeited academic credits. Others resort to more expensive detours, exiting Gaza illegally, flying from Egypt to Jordan, and then furtively crossing into the West Bank via the Allenby bridge. Some enterprising Gazans have been known to engage in this cat-and-mouse game by flying to Cyprus or Turkey for a brief stay, returning not to Gaza but to Israel’s Ben-Gurion Airport and from there to their West Bank campuses. Catching on,

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the Israeli port authorities now escort West Bank–bound Gazans from the airport back to the Erez checkpoint. Still other undergraduates, equally resolute but less solvent, resort to a more “direct” route of “irregular” entry into the West Bank by hiding in produce trucks crossing to the West Bank. However facilitated, their studies are bought at the expense of long family separation and the risk of being apprehended for being at their campuses illegally. As a result, compared to 1,200 to 1,400 Gazan students registered at West Bank colleges in former years, 1997–1998 figures showed only 600 studying, none of them with authorized permits.12 Example: some 80 of the highest members of the Palestinian Authority have A status passes enabling them to travel with their own escort and guard and not be submitted to the usual questioning and security searches. Another 160 with B status identification cards are also given special treatment, expediting their moving freely from one area to another: exiting the Gaza Strip, entering Israel, exiting Israel, entering the Palestinian areas. On more than one occasion, however, various Palestinian officials have charged Israeli border police manning the Erez and Karni checkposts with inflicting delays and with insulting behavior. Conversely, Israeli authorities accuse the VIPs of failing to give the necessary advance notice, of cursing the soldiers, and, far more serious, of abusing the privilege by smuggling students, suspected Hamas members, and even weapons in their cars.13 Example: the absurdity of the situation is illustrated by the conditions devised in 1995 whereby Palestinian police moving between the two selfrule areas are required to transfer their personal arms to an Israeli vehicle for reclaiming at the end of the journey. Still more effective in pointing up the extreme awkwardness: the saga of Arafat’s two personal helicopters. Every visit to his West Bank constituents from headquarters in Gaza required not only flight authorization and Israeli inspection of the aircraft but escort by an IDF military helicopter from takeoff to landing. Any complications, such as technical delays or denial of overflight approval, invariably were interpreted, or misinterpreted, by his spokesmen as both a personal slight and insulting to the Palestinian people. The very fact that Israel originally ever approved of Arafat’s use of the helicopter route can be seen as confirmation of post-Oslo improvisation on Israel’s part. Some mode of transportation obviously had to be found to meet his legitimate claim to greater mobility in establishing the Palestine Authority and in rallying support for the accords among West Bank

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residents. Under the circumstances an air link was deemed the lesser evil. And less sensitive by far than contemplating scenes of Arafat traveling back and forth at will in a motorcade, with his own armed escort and with Palestinian pennants flying, from one end of Israel to the other. Only in March 1997, in the midst of yet another political crisis of confidence, was Arafat successful in extracting special personal permission for his plane to use the Dahaniya airfield at Rafiyah—but still requiring joint Israeli-Palestinian preflight inspection of the plane and its passenger list. And not before belated Israeli sensitivities concerning its airspace in general and particularly the opening of a Palestinian international airport located in the Gaza Strip succeeded in alienating the late King Hussein too. Serving to remind us of the vital interests of Jordan in any emerging system of air corridors, one major factor in the timing of the king’s undiplomatic letter to Prime Minister Netanyahu, also in March, was the personal affront in having been denied permission to fly Arafat from Amman to Gaza. A small footnote strengthening the sense of compound absurdity. Responding to questions in the Knesset’s foreign affairs and defense committee, Defense Minister Yitzhak Mordechai in May 1998 contributed the following three bits of information. Yes, there was intelligence information to suggest Arafat might be abusing the personal air corridor privilege by using his helicopter to smuggle weapons and fugitives wanted by Israel from Gaza to the West Bank. No, Israel had no “authentication” enabling it to make this accusation “unequivocally.” But, yes, standing orders required that every vehicle used by Arafat be examined if higherlevel intelligence so warranted.14 The Politics of Safe Passage Does this index of accusation and counteraccusation, of recrimination and reprisal simply trace to small-mindedness on Israel’s part? Are such seemingly petty and spiteful restrictions worth the price in political goodwill of the Palestinians? Of the Jordanians? Of world opinion? Insufficiently underscored are deeper misgivings, admittedly after the fact, as to the longer-term implications of having so readily acceded already at the outset of discussions in 1993 to the principle of Gaza–West Bank territorial integrity by means of the safe passage clause. Absolutely critical yet since forgotten is a single formative security event in 1995 that took place in the northern Negev. Police officials disclosed on March 21 that satchels of dynamite hidden in a truck parked in the Tel-Sheba residential area had been discovered in time thanks to the

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vigilance of two patrolmen. Driven by a local Israeli bedouin and two Gazans issued a transit permit to the West Bank by lax border control personnel, the truck instead detoured southward with the intention of setting off the explosives in downtown Beersheba. Jolted by the potentially devastating dimensions of the near mishap, security leaders ordered an immediate tightening of border crossing procedures. Plans then under discussion with the Palestinians for further liberalizing the safe passage regime were put on hold. Severe transport restrictions were imposed instead. The number of trucks permitted through daily in either direction was reduced, their loads transferred to Israeli trailers and checked by soldiers; upon entering Israel, they then had to travel in convoys with police escort. Thereafter, the cycle of ill will became entirely predictable. Whether as a preventive act, or as a punitive measure in dealing with terrorist attacks or violence in the territories, the Israeli authorities imposed full or partial closure upon the territories, often for an extended period lasting even for months, all but severing the umbilical cord between the eastern and western regions. To which the Palestinian authorities responded by charging Israel with bad faith and a direct breach of the Oslo, Cairo, and Washington understandings, with making life and commerce impossible for the Palestinians, and with proceeding to implement “cantonization.” The net psychological effect, of course, has been to aggravate the twofold political and territorial divide—between the two sides and between the two noncontiguous halves of the Palestinian autonomy. Across the Bargaining Table Which brings us to a final set of characteristics. Both are necessary for understanding the future importance of the safe passage component within any larger permanent status peace package predicated upon territorial division and separation. One is the striking degree of imprecision; the second, and not unrelated, is the gap between respective Israeli and Palestinians interpretations of the relevant diplomatic instruments. A case in point: Israel has wanted to charge a fee for Palestinians using the routes to cover maintenance costs, but the PA has opposed this. This, I submit, owes to conflicting conceptions of what safe passage means. Not only in a technical sense but ultimately in terms of sovereignty, contiguity, security, and control. In short, both protagonists are playing for considerably bigger stakes than just the number of connecting corridors.

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Desultory bilateral discussion of the issue already has been long and inconclusive. Therefore, if and whenever (before or as part of the permanent status bargaining) all safe passage–related issues are finally tackled in a systematic and comprehensive manner, we can expect the negotiations to be hard and determined. Certainly longer, harder, and more determined than anyone present at Oslo dreamed, yet could and should have anticipated. Even when it comes to something so basic as the exact number of links necessary to fulfill the territorial unity commitment, the ambiguities are abundant, compounded by serious discrepancies between one safe passage protocol and another. Referring back to the Oslo, Cairo, and Washington texts, the language varies considerably. “Safe passage” would seem to suggest, in minimalist terms, not necessarily more than a single artery. Thus, the 1993 document speaks of arrangements for “a safe passage” for persons, etc. But then the wording shifts to “safe passages” in the plural, seeming to mandate multiple corridors, as indeed warranted by the accompanying maps. But because no final accord has been negotiated, there remains great latitude in interpretation. Palestinian demands have varied from one highway to two, three, or four—all of them using existing Israeli roads. Whereas at least one Palestinian draft even calls for a fifth special transitway to be constructed by the Palestinian Authority and kept entirely under its control and not subject to any Israeli regulations. One likely first safe passage route would run south and east from Gaza to Hebron. A second course would wend its way north from Gaza to Ramallah, cutting eastward through heavily populated Israeli areas. This is where matters stood in 1999: tentative and contentious. On the other hand, in contrast to the possible number and siting of connecting arteries, the documents are completely silent as regards the indeterminate width of Palestinian corridors. Or, for that matter, perhaps four transport corridors now earmarked by the Netanyahu government to run in an east-west direction across the West Bank in order to connect Israel with the Jordan Valley. Awakening belatedly to the issue’s gravity, and “brainstorming” over how best to negotiate themselves out of a potentially compromising cul-de-sac, Israeli technocrats have shown no lack of ingenuity in devising all sorts of schemes for minimizing the risks inherent in safe passage. Some of them are worth pursuing, others border on the preposterous. One idea involved running a sealed train between the two Palestinian areas; reported under serious consideration in July 1997 was a Defense Ministry plan for operating a special bus line for Palestinians only.15

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Similarly the absurdity in trying to give strict interpretation to the safe passage–related doctrines of territorial integrity and contiguity. Under one version of Prime Minister Netanyahu’s conception of the penultimate final status map, which found its way to the Israeli press in late spring 1998, he would have liked Israel to retain a small zone north of Jenin separating it from the green line. Palestinian contiguity would only be from Jenin through Nablus to the trans-Samaria highway, which would remain under Israeli control, and then continue to Ramallah. Instead of retaining another road dividing the West Bank from east to west just below Jenin, Israel would make do with the zone just north of Jenin, which conceivably might later disappear, granting the Palestinians a larger measure of contiguity northward, extending up to the green line and virtually joining the Israeli Arab town of Umm al-Fahm, thereby supplementing contiguity from Tulkarem to Jenin and Nablus.16 At about the same time, Netanyahu expressed himself on the safe passage conundrum. Drawing analogies and inspiration from the AngloFrench English Channel tunnel crossing, he told a British reporter for the Daily Telegraph, “You have connected two states separated by water, whereas our problem is in linking two entities separated by land. A separate passage will provide the answer in the future, giving the Palestinians free transit between Gaza and the West Bank, while granting Israeli citizens territory and security.”17 For his purposes, either a tunnel or a forty-kilometer bridge spanning Hebron and Gaza would suffice to solve Israel’s and the Palestinians’ problem. Whichever way you look at the map, though—any checkerboard map— contiguity and safe passage access routes make a mockery of pure separatism and 100 percent sovereignty. Which need not prevent both sides from presenting impossible, unrealistic maximum positions. The lines of conflict are therefore clearly drawn. Palestinian negotiators are certain to give safe passage a maximalist interpretation, demanding as many independent air and land links as possible in the name of economic and social viability, administrative efficiency, governmental effectiveness, and geographic contiguity. Whereas in future bargaining Israeli representatives are equally certain to insist upon as few corridors as possible, with exclusive responsibility for maintaining security along the entire route from entry point to exit. In general, they, too, will be as little forthcoming as the situation permits on this particular agenda item. And for good reason. Clearly, those who masterminded the Oslo gambit in 1993 must have had little inkling as to the profound geopolitical ramifications of their

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readily endorsing the principles of Palestinian territorial integrity and safe passage. It now turns out that the Palestinians are not the only ones threatened with (a) being divided in half and (b) dependency status. Israel, too, faces being split—from north to south—should it be pressured into adopting the Palestinian interpretation calling for extraterritoriality and sovereignty over at least one or more land corridors. The tables are further turned, and the superior-subordinate relationship balanced, in the second instance, by realizing that the notion of safe passage— formerly assumed to be a privilege awarded to or right conferred unilaterally upon the Palestinians—must now extend to Israel as well. Thus, for example, before departing for talks in Paris with Secretary of State Madeleine Albright in December 1997, Prime Minister Netanyahu assured supporters that his government regarded the Jewish settlements as a national interest and would therefore insist not only upon retaining all of them but assuring access to them.18 In the interim, though, faulting the authorities with empty promises and half-hearted attempts at proving them with safe passage, a Jewish settler group calling itself the Committee for Road Safety has been formed. In what can hardly qualify as improved security or confidence-enhancing measures, the activist CRS claimed responsibility in the summer of 1998 for such bald provocations as throwing rocks and firing on Palestinian police vehicles.19 Already from the 1997 Hebron agreement there began to emerge the contours of a patchwork scheme whereby, under the best possible circumstances, Israel’s limited presence on the West Bank will feature enclaves of Jewish settlements inside areas under Palestinian self-rule together with a string of isolated military outposts and early warning stations deployed along the Jordan River. This situation becomes tenable only if IDF supply convoys and Israeli citizens are able to move freely along a grid of secured access roads running through alien Palestinian territory.20 Which perhaps explains why Israel’s insistence upon orkim muvtakhim, “secure arteries, “ for itself, and not just for the Palestinians, has assumed greater salience in internal Israeli deliberations of late; just as it will at the future bargaining table. Indeed, extrapolating from unauthorized versions of Prime Minister Netanyahu’s “Allon plus” plan for the West Bank, it would necessitate no less than three Palestinian transit routes from the Jordan River to the green line and four, possibly five Israeli access roads.21 A detailed West Bank map drafted by Israeli geographer Arnon Sofer, on the other hand, posits the need for five Palestinian east-west passages and three Israeli ones.22

20. IDF Deployment Map and West Bank Road Grid

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By the end of 1998 the West Bank dynamic was emerging with greater clarity. The presence of the Jewish settlements on the West Bank color the permanent status map (a) by infringing on the degree and territorial extent of Palestinian sovereignty, (b) by requiring an Israeli security presence for protective purposes, (c) by multiplying the ever expanding number of roads that have yet to be incorporated into a rational “system” of interconnected roads and bypass roads linking Jewish settlement clusters and defense posts with each other and Arab territories with each other. Not being a transport engineer, I have no idea whether any such integrated system of links affording safe convenient passage can, or cannot, be put together ex post facto. But I do know that such an objective and remedial “all-Palestine” transportation blueprint has quickly become both an urgent necessity and a serious complicating factor in Israeli-Palestinian pre-peace testing and probing of each other. In the interim, what governs are intensified acts of unilateralism on the part of both the Israeli and the Palestinian authorities. If allowed to continue unchecked, the present situation risks fulfilling one dire analogy and prediction that ranks with Lord Samuel’s critique of the 1937 hermetic partition plan quoted at the opening of this chapter. It is that “Bosnia will look like the Garden of Eden compared to what Jews and Palestinians in Judea and Samaria can look forward to. Strips from north to south, roads from east to west, and mutually antagonistic populations extend into one another like pieces of a puzzle created by the devil for the punishment of man.”23 Until the roads and pieces are indeed put together into a comprehensive whole, however, there is no free or safe passage of people, travelers, or goods. Not within the West Bank and not between the West Bank and Gaza. Neither between the two parts of the Gaza Strip nor between Israel and its settlement holdings. By November 1997 there was speculation Israel might not insist its West Bank settlements be linked physically by land, since the same prerequisite of communication between them could be technically achieved through alternative means: if not highways and side roads then via tunnels and bridges.24 Meanwhile, when Cabinet discussion took place in December 1997 over Israeli principles for a final settlement based upon “security” and “national” interests, Defense Minister Yitzhak Mordechai proposed linking eastern and western security strips by means of only two—but not less than two—Israeli security roads that would traverse the West Bank along an east-west axis. His version contrasts with that of National Infrastructure Minister Ariel Sharon, who insisted upon at least three such roads under sole Israeli control.25

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With both sides having a shared interest in securing ease of access and approach for themselves and their nationals, as part of a longer-term comprehensive partition settlement it is worth exploring how these geopolitical adversities might best be parlayed constructively into a peace asset yielding only beneficiaries. One clue that conferring higher degrees of territorial continuity, thereby facilitating greater freedom of movement, might be used as a bargaining chip in the territorial negotiation became public in July 1998. According to sources close to the interim status negotiations on further redeployment, Defense Minister Mordechai was prepared to soften Israel’s position on one of the principal sticking terms.26 In offering the “10
3” formula, he was prepared to meet the Palestinian demand that the Judean desert nature reserve be contiguous. Were this to become accepted practice it could provide the precedent for a permanent status strategy whereby Israel might trade sensitivity toward Palestinian contiguity in return for Palestinian land concessions. For the present and foreseeable future, however, fear and vulnerability are the motive forces. In looking at the preliminary maps and related papers on safe passage, Palestinians see it as a club Israel holds over their heads: a scheme for fragmenting autonomous territories into economic islands that are easily blockaded and a tool for restricting them to a bantustanlike existence. In a word, preventing statehood. Israelis, for their part, once better informed, might be excused for viewing any system of corridors as regressive—part of a larger scheme aimed at constricting the country, not only back to the 1967 borders but to the original 1947 partition lines. In a word, eliminating statehood. Magnanimity, in short, is a commodity entirely absent in negotiating safe passage and other territorial issues. Outside observers would do well to appreciate that Jewish-occupied and Arab-occupied Palestine is not the continental United States; the Middle East is not Europe; neither is the current Middle East anywhere near a projected, futuristic “new Middle East.” Paper and Political Trails Armed with this background and analysis, it is now less puzzling why the largely technical corridors provision has nevertheless remained a sore point and an open question well into the post-Oslo interim phase. Standard explanations see it as falling prey to the larger peace process and to more sensitive, pressing issues like Hebron, Jerusalem, settlement expansion, and terrorism. Safe passage by comparison—or so the rea-

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soning until now goes—is a secondary issue. And as such, it must be relatively easy to resolve once the two sides determine to do so and put their heads together. Besides, not only are procedures for safe passage outlined in considerable detail in the Cairo and Washington protocols, they are actually already in daily operation. Far more convincing in accounting for the procrastination: safe passage is really about land, control, and insecurities. Accordingly, delay in legally consummating the three interrelated agenda items of the Dahaniya airport, the Gaza seaport, and safe passage traces to their being extremely sensitive in their own right. Although neither side has come out and said as much in so many words, insistence upon territorial integrity and innocent passage by both the Palestinians and Israel has emerged more recently as a major sticking point. Clearly, assigning preferential treatment in any partition scheme to lines of direct communication, access, and continuity between Palestinian cities and areas will appear to be one-sided and unfavorable to Israelis. As would granting higher priority to corridors of power linking Israeli outposts and settlements in the eyes of Palestinians. Since 1993 matters have gotten worse with time—both more complicated and politically more sensitive—now that both parties have awakened to (a) the objective complexities and (b) the fuller implications. So much is safe passage a sticking point that it actually beclouds the threefold negotiation, partition, and reconciliation processes. Neither is it easily solvable through discussions among technical experts. So sensitive and politicized had the issue become that it was now in the hands of the top negotiators themselves. As a primer to negotiating an Israeli-Palestinian safe passage treaty, two brief cautionary notes against making light of the issue or treating it as merely technical. Historically, one of the main reasons secret peace negotiations with Transjordan broke down at the last moment owed to exasperation on BenGurion’s part with King Abdullah, who in 1949–1950 continuously sought to extract further concessions over the width and extraterritorial status of the corridor to the sea already granted to him in principle by Israel. Add to this a comparative perspective on noncontiguity in other territorial and jurisdictional disputes. Foremost among them: • Cold war memories of Germany’s partition, “the siege of Berlin,” and “checkpoint Charlie,” recalling Soviet pressure against the U.S. and the Western powers by denying freedom of movement across eastern Ger-

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man territory and subjecting military convoys to rigorous inspection, long delays, and other forms of harassment. • The ill-fated, short-lived (1958–1961) United Arab Republic (UAR) experiment in Arab unity that sought to incorporate Egypt, Syria, the Sudan, and Yemen. The Nasserist merger was marked throughout by rivalry and tension between two power centers, Cairo and Damascus. But what really contributed to the UAR’s breakup were the many logistical problems arising from the considerable distances between Egypt and its Syrian province—with Israel as the intervening land wedge and buffer—and Nasser’s inability to dispatch troops at the time of the 1961 showdown. • The devastating effect that being split into eastern and western wings separated by nearly a thousand miles of intervening hostile Indian territory had upon Pakistan’s political history—one of the forgotten legacies of the 1947 partition of India. In that case, too, physical distance translated into psychological and geopolitical distance, fostering local East Pakistani (Bengali) regionalism based upon economic inequalities, discrimination, and resentment, which eventually boiled over into militant secession. In the end, loss of control by Islamabad in 1971 resulted in creation of an independent Bangladesh. • Of more direct and contemporary relevance: the terrible ethnic disjunctures and daunting situation on the ground in Bosnia, challenging enforcement of the 1996 Dayton accords; in particular, the corridor around Brcko and the problem of access to and through Split, Srbrenica, Mostar, etc., in between one sector and another. Conversely, there are a good number of constructive precedents that need to be studied for insights into how neighboring countries have built mechanisms that seem to be working well in moving people and commerce across geographic and political borders. Instances like Germany and Switzerland, Belgium and the Netherlands, the United States and Canada with respect to Alaska. Some tentative conclusions, therefore: First, the international legal principles of freedom of movement, territorial integrity, contiguity, and safe passage go to the very heart of the future Israeli-Palestinian relationship. Their application will have much to say in determining the frequency as well as the quality of contacts between the two adjacent communities by determining degrees of autonomy, grassroots cooperation, interdependence, or integration. Second, the safe passage clause epitomizes the earthy side of partition. In mirroring the mix of human, natural, and political geography it tests

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the ability of peacemakers to devise workable, practicable solutions on the ground. As expressed, for example, in whether future borders are to be open or closed, the movement of people, of goods, of ideas free or restricted, transportation and communications grids rationalized or economically wasteful and illogical. Third, continuity and safe passages conceivably might yet serve as a fungible bargaining chip in the negotiations, working to promote a more balanced territorial exchange. Were the Palestinians to assign equal priority to obtaining contiguous land unbroken by Israeli settlements as they do to land mass, the way could be opened for trading less total land for a more contiguous Palestinian-ruled area.27 Fourth, the safe passage arrangements hold one of the keys to lasting peace. Depending upon how they are finalized, the web of latitudinal and horizontal arteries dictated by human and physical circumstances constitute, without exaggeration, the indispensable “integrative factor” pulling the parts of partition together. Crisscrossing the entire West Bank, they will either make or break the permanent status structure. Hostage to Each Other On a note of guarded optimism, Palestinian safe passage and Israeli secure arteries create a certain parallelism that has not existed previously. Such symmetry goes beyond de facto recognition alone and all but dictates collaborative behavior. Because there is built into the structure of the core relationship a double veto inspired by the very idea of safe passages. Under the looming territorial arrangement each of the parties will possess a “stranglehold” over the other, with the option of acting unilaterally to interdict the other’s access and freedom of transit. But to exercise this option and to impose sanctions would be sheer folly for the simple reason that it invites immediate retaliation. No matter how justified, closure of roads otherwise open to Palestinian movement on the part of Israel is almost certain to occasion a tit-for-tat unilateral action by Palestinian authorities against Israeli travelers and vehicular movement, and vice versa. The result is reciprocal vulnerability and shared pain. In closure crises and in closure wars no less than in resource, trade, and water wars, everybody stands to be a loser. Here the author is reminded of an Israeli road safety campaign, popular several years ago, that educated drivers on the primary goal: not always to be “in the right,” and certainly not road rage, but simply to arrive “home” safe and sound.

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In solving the enigma of safe passages, latter-day partitionists would also do well to consider incorporating a Middle Eastern version of medieval and nuclear “mutual hostage” theory into the final treaty as a useful mechanism in encouraging respect for each other’s needs, rights, and freedom of movement. If physical circumstances themselves dictate safe corridors, then the double veto has a certain cogency, for (a) it derives naturally from the situation rather than being artificially contrived and (b) there is fundamental equivalence (i.e., in vulnerability, in costs and benefits). These, in turn, introduce elements of (c) reciprocity and (d) interdependence, which together argue the wisdom of (e) voluntary compliance, if for no other reason than self-interest. Finally, even if beginning as compellence, mutual hostage theory might eventually become the instrument in later stages of peace building for fostering closer integration, leading in the best-case scenario to higher forms of functionalism, federative frameworks, and a regionalist approach. In the end, safe passage needs to be seen as anything but a secondorder problem or a minor, technical peace agenda item. The Oslo endorsement of the principle of contiguity has taken on newer and far greater import in recent diplomatic exchanges. The dilemma is posed in stark zero-sum terms by former Israeli defense minister Moshe Arens: “If our minimal security requirements are respected in the permanent settlement, the Palestinian state [sic] cannot be geographically contiguous.”28 Such formulations in effect pit Jewish territorial continuity against Palestinian territorial continuity. Neither is the search for an effective formula and regime as simple, or easy, as might originally have been assumed. There can be Palestinian territorial continuity or there can be Jewish territorial continuity, with one coming at the expense of the other. Palestinian specks, islands, and strips versus Israeli specks, islands, and strips. Peering at a map of the area, it is hard for the moment to imagine a truly viable mechanism for implementing the “territorial contiguity” principle without a full measure of cooperation and mutual sensitivity on the part of both entities. Prospects strongly suggest some form of bifurcated Palestinian state—east Palestine and west Palestine; with an equally discomfited, because bisected and transected, Israeli state. Also needed are a good deal of technological ingenuity and no small amount of investment capital to finance the large infrastructure that will be needed to finesse this particularly unseemly aspect of repartition.

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Without prejudice to exactly how the issue works itself out, it does however teach two verities of the Arab-Israel encounter. Separating the two peoples residing on the land is not the same as dividing the land. And, second, in the case of contemporary “Palestine” it is not good fences, or walls, but rather good roads—partition plus—that in the end must make for good neighbors.

Chapter 10

Toward a Negotiated Territorial Compromise

If the parties have a clear mutual and favorable sense of the ultimate direction of negotiation, it will be easier for them to overcome setbacks and avoid distractions along the way. —U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine K. Albright, in a Washington press conference (August 7, 1997)

The American secretary of state’s observation reads, and sounds, altogether unobjectionable. The qualifier if is the problem, however. For it reduces her comment to a statement of intent; more prescriptive as far as the actual state of Israeli-Palestinian relations than descriptive. This conditionality is singularly troubling at a time when the peace process is thought to be so well advanced—indeed, when it has seemingly entered what might prove to be its terminal, and decisive, phase. All, Nothing, or Something? So much of what continues to plague peacemaking in Palestine has been present from day one. From Balfour, Peel, and UNSCOP through Geneva, Camp David, Madrid, and Oslo—even in the best of times, when the two arch-rivals have actually managed to address each other—there has never been nor is there now any real identity of purpose. In this sense little has changed. Beyond ritual professions of wishing to ensure peace “for the children” and “for future generations,” what common vision unites the two nations? What agreed strategy unites the two peace delegations? On the contrary, rather than being bound by what unites them—other than (to quote William Zartman again) mutual feelings of a “hurting stalemate”—Israelis and Palestinians are deeply divided, and poles apart over how and under what terms and conditions to pull apart.

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This, plus powerful institutionalized and politicized reasons, conspire to create and perpetuate what veteran Middle East observer Tom Friedman has identified as “negative equilibrium”—a delicate Israeli-Palestinian balance whose structural stability is an illusion because, in Friedman’s words, it is not built on any positive understandings but rather “on problems not solved, promises not kept, decisions not taken and anger not vented.”1 In a clash of national wills, of competitive national goals, and of rival, exclusionary territorial claims, is it thus any wonder that Middle East bargaining on issues of substance nonetheless remains largely confrontational? Or why these diplomatic encounters across the bargaining table tend more often than not to suggest “war by other means” instead of textbook models for “good faith” negotiations? For the truth is that Israelis and Palestinians approach their interim and permanent status meetings from different directions. Historical narratives are unshared. Each side is weighed down by past grievances. They pursue largely separate and for the most part mutually exclusive agendas. Each has its own terms of reference and partisan interpretation of key agenda items. Neither side finds it easy to back down or to be forthcoming when the bargaining stalemate begs for a breakthrough concession, even if only symbolic. Instead, trading accusations of bad faith and deception, each routinely charges the side opposite with violations of previous understandings and with aiming at willfully undermining the entire peace process. Nor are their meetings eased by pressures each faces from within. Ideological, cultural, and theological blinkers are at work on both players. Threatened coalition defections are one form of restraint in the case of Israel, settler activists another. Criticism of his leadership and bargaining stance by Hamas and by other Palestinian opponents has the same effect upon Arafat and his strategists. Also the added pressure from external sources: emissaries from Washington, Islamic and Arab world opinion, the influence of the Jewish Diaspora, etc. As long as Israelis and Palestinians remain adversaries, their negotiations are going to be adversarial. Still, looking beyond the serpentine maneuvering that has come to substitute for real dialogue, one can isolate and control for the single greatest impediment against any smooth transition into a durable permanent status peace arrangement. In my judgment Israelis and Palestinians (Mrs. Albright and the U.S. notwithstanding) really do not have any “mutual and favorable” position on two out of the three ultimates: the basic geopolitical form or shape of the compromise, the ultimate map coordinates, and the future nature of their relationship.

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I believe both sides do sense deep down (and ideologically dread) the inevitability of partition plus interconnectedness but experience the greatest difficulty in, first, admitting it and, second, giving it tangible expression. In cases of ethnic and territorial disputes the dividing line also happens to represent the absolute bottom line. Yet absent these two acts of affirmation and concretization and there is no basic understanding. Let us give Israelis and Palestinians the benefit of the doubt. Peace may very well be their general direction and professed goal. Unclear, however, is each one’s willingness to be forthcoming and to be truly compromising. Peace, but at what price? Less clear: the exact outcome. Least clear: the permanent status map. Ideological adjustment, yes. But also political—and territorial— compromise. Physical space is the crux of peacemaking, just as it has represented for so long the center of the struggle. Political and security borders are what will give final shape to the operative peace map, of course. But these borders depend, in reverse order, upon mutual exchange of land and redivision of the West Bank. The room for territorial adjustment and compromise are terribly constricted in turn by the weight and interplay of essentially four elements. First, the supreme value (even above human life) of the land factor in the struggle over Palestine. Second, the small size and poor quality of the territorial prize. Third, the layers of historical and religious claims to the contested land.2 Fourth, the mosaic of Arabs and Jews and of Israeli and Palestinian settlement. That territorial claims are also mutually exclusive makes matters immeasurably harder for peacemaking. When compromise is viewed as concession, and concession equated with betrayal, these five features make it painful for either side to display magnanimity. Furthermore, Israeli position papers assuming “land for land” and Palestinian statements positing a full return to the 1967 lines under the banner of “land for peace” or “land for security” make it that much more difficult to push forward on technical and second-order issues. Issues that are contingent and whose resolution must await a joint definitive answer to partition’s exact meaning and relevance for the final status. Absent an authoritative answer and negotiations are little more than treading water, as negotiators waste time in sterile attempts at getting from here to there—the avowed aim of conflict resolution—without really knowing where “there” is. Worst still, they could be engaged in massive self-deception. Were this the case, then the 1993–1998 Israeli-Palestinian dialogue and the profound hopes it aroused risk becoming a greater tragedy than had either one or both of the parties simply set out to fool

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us, each other, and the world by duplicitously going through the false motions of peacemaking. Most specifically: do both sides authoritatively endorse the partition formula, yes or no? If yes, do they both interpret it as meaning unequivocally a redivision, exchange, and sharing of disputed territory? These questions go above and beyond percentages and timetables. By right, they ought to have been raised, and the basic issue forced, at the outset—in or around August-September 1993—rather than left unaddressed and unanswered. In professional, nonamateurish conflict termination “clarity now” must come before, not after, “peace now.” That they have not been satisfactorily addressed tells us a great deal. As we have seen, territorial partition and compromise imply heavy costs; as such, they represent an emotionally charged and high-risk issue in respective Israeli and Palestinian internal politics. Formal endorsement, maps based on compromise, borders, resource allocation, population resettlement, Jerusalem, refugee repatriation—in short, anything having to do with partition is therefore best deferred, politically, to the last possible moment under the logic of constructive ambiguity. Especially if there is no one to force the issue by daring to step forward and to pose the overdue core questions, insisting upon explicit unambiguous statements by each direct party of its basic position vis-á-vis partition. Equally plausible: assumptions on the part of either or, again, even both parties that getting “from here to there”—an acceptable settlement—can be or is going to be cost-free. In other words, that clinging steadfastly to an uncompromising position and to one’s original maximalist territorial claims in the end will earn you maximum unilateral returns, and without having to pay heavy costs in land conceded to one’s historical rival. Both explanations for the embarrassing diplomatic silence on the core substantive peace issue are likely in equal measure. However, there is also a third possibility. That, under the slow-paced negotiating dynamic in which the tactically preoccupied parties conspired, the two core partitionrelated questions actually are being answered. But only de facto and piecemeal. Without fanfare and without public admission—and more in the sense of land-for-land and territorial compromise than any onesided forfeiture of title or of physical and effective presence. The very fact that the West Bank has already been subdivided into transitory A, B, and C areas in itself attests to shifting lines of physical possession, political authority, and security control. These zones mark the start of repartition and are themselves the beginning demarcations for territorial compromise.

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Lest there be any doubt, partition in its deeper meaning is about redrawing lines of jurisdiction and ownership, reapportioning land and compromising with each other, albeit as little as possible (in contrast to the illusory “50 percent solution”). But even before land exchanges hands, partition is first, foremost, and most painfully a compromise with one’s own hopes for attaining everything without sacrificing anything. Taking a stand on partition forces one to clarify: all, something, or nothing? Let the long, persistent Arab-Jewish tragedy serve as a powerful reminder that, more than knowing how to win or lose gracefully, adversaries need to know how to end conflict. Be it ancestral territories, land for prospective development, or political independence—between the unlikelihood of having it all and the undesirability of being left emptyhanded, prudent leaders of nationalist movements and ethnic communities everywhere would do well to give due thought to emerging with at least something tangible in hand. Something, that is, besides affective goals like redeeming collective national pride, sanity, or the greatest boon of peace. Partition’s supreme lesson for diplomacy teaches the value of compromise as a matter of self-interest and of settling for the suboptimal. Imagine where the Palestinian people might have been today in terms of national development had the alternative of compromising with the Jewish national home been given closer, longer, and more sober thought as far back as 1937. By the same token, imagine how far advanced Israel might have been in fulfilling its original Jewish and Zionist agenda had Ben-Gurion and his generation not gone back on the acceptance of sharing Palestine with the Palestinians (as opposed to the Jordanians)— implicit in Zionist support for the 1947 UN partition resolution—instead of pursuing in vain a territorial deal with Jordan throughout the wasted years 1949–1967 and, again, 1967–1993. 1999: Approaching Minimax But that was then. Now, in their renewed quest for a peace formula, peaceconscious Palestinians and security-conscious Israeli doves, in particular, have an acute problem that they share, incidentally, with pro-partitionists in general, which game theory addresses under the rubric minimax. In its essentials, achieving minimax teaches that for any deal to be struck in zero-sum situations a point of compromise needs to be reached at which minimum demands by player A dovetail with the absolute maximum player B is prepared to concede rather than fight.3

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The continuing absence of minimax—in reality, another variant of ripeness and the middle ground—is nowhere more painfully apparent than in Israeli-Palestinian peacemaking. Lord Peel said it best sixty-plus long years ago: Palestine poses the absolute worst challenge for compromisers: a clash of right with right. This automatically presents a problem. When authoritative Israeli representatives like former Premier Netanyahu state, for the diplomatic record, “We do not view this land, from the Yarkon to the Jordan, as an alien land, a foreign land,” and, rather, “This is the land of our forefathers, and we claim it to the same degree that the other side claims it,”4 you are clearly going to have that clash over competing rights. Especially when there is a Palestinian mirror image in the one-sided formulations of people like Khaled Mashaal, the Hamas leader, in whose considered view, “The Palestinian right is a whole and cannot be divided.” . . . “We have no problem accepting the Gaza Strip and the West Bank as a transitional solution.” . . . “This transitional liberation is only one stage in our quest for the total liberation of Palestine.”5 Indeed, indicative of the action-reaction spiral in Israeli-Palestinian rhetoric and politics, one explanation often heard for Netanyahu’s hard-line position underscores teaching the Palestinians to lower their expectations about Israeli willingness to return all the territories. Of slight comfort, nationalist and territorial clashes need not take the form of deadly conflict but may be pursued through alternative legal as well as diplomatic channels. Should the two claimants feel compelled to do so, they can choose from any number of face-saving devices as well. They might wish to register their claims for the record, they can preserve them as an ideological or religious icon, they can consign them the elevated status of a predetermined metahistorical truth to be fulfilled “at the end of days,” or they can table them as an opening gambit in the first round of bargaining. Anything, in short (and here is the point), that for the present does not insist on asserting said claims. Yet, in the final analysis, what has prevented an optimistic or definitive conclusion are lingering uncertainties about prospects for actually devising a territorial compromise formula. Any territorial compromise formula with good chances of being credible, workable, and durable. In coming forward with an independent post-Oslo prescription for final status, Dr. Mark Heller, for instance, himself a longtime enthusiast of the two-state solution, in 1997 called for a tradeoff other than straight land for peace.6 The thrust of Heller’s argument is that Israel’s own interest mandates: to accept full-fledged Palestinian statehood, “to be as generous as possible in its attitude to the territorial and functional components of a Palestinian state,”7 and to resist the inclination to insist on

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a large share of the West Bank. This, for a combination of reasons: to make mutual agreement possible and in order to be better positioned to insist on “some territorial arrangements that deviate from the Green Line,” because even he sees the imperative for “incorporating substantial parts of the West Bank into Israel.”8 How “substantial”? Here Heller supports border arrangements that would allocate 90 percent of the West Bank and Gaza to a Palestinian state while retaining most of the settlers—perhaps as many as 90 percent—under Israeli sovereignty. In other words, a 10:90 ratio. “Such a disposition,” Heller concludes, “together with special arrangements for the Jordan Valley”—left unspecified—“probably constitutes the minimal territorial terms acceptable” to Israel. Deflating territorial demands by not explicitly calling for permanent possession of the Jordan Valley is not the principal or sole problem. Even the Alpher and Heller blueprints for arguably the most “generous” form of territorial compromise compatible with bedrock Israeli interests nevertheless underscore one or two premises that remain tenuous. How valid are assumptions that the Palestinians will agree to forfeiting any West Bank land, even if further reduced to single-digit claims by Israel? Just like formulations premising Palestinian consent to limited sovereignty, should it be taken for granted they will be tractable negotiating partners in consenting to “nearly all” the land? While the supporting material is less than overwhelming, there is at least one recent piece of evidence—actually, a “nondocument,” in Middle East parlance—to suggest that reaching a point of “minimax” and compromise should not be written off as an impossibility. I am referring to the 1995 Beilin–Abu Mazin draft accord. The background, pieced together from several sources: already in October 1993, only one month after the Rabin-Arafat handshake in Washington, Israeli and Palestinian teams led by MK Yossi Beilin, one of the principal architects of the Oslo initiative, and PLO Executive Committee member Mahmud Abbas (Abu Mazin) began to meet in Stockholm, Cyprus, Holland, England, and Jerusalem.9 The expressed purpose of these secret and unofficial meetings was to explore together possible formulas and practical solutions for the entire range of outstanding peacerelated issues out of sensitivity for each other’s aspirations, needs, and constraints. Their labors, extending through twenty sessions over the next eighteen months, ended in the draft of an agreement on the outlines for a permanent status settlement. Completed on November 1, 1995, the blueprint however was never presented to Prime Minister Rabin in time for his consent and approval.

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Turning to the blueprint’s actual provisions, it bears emphasizing that the Beilin–Abu Mazin effort falls under the category of a tentative understanding in principle—and only on some but not all the issues. Consequently, it does not have the legal status of a binding agreement. Nevertheless, on the other hand, it represents a “good faith” attempt at narrowing the gaping Israeli-Palestinian “great divide” and can therefore be cited in future debate as an encouraging sign that the coveted territorial minimax point of compromise, while elusive and amorphous, is not entirely beyond diplomatic reach. Again, culled from reliable sources, the Beilin–Abu Mazin understandings contain concessions by both sides. Israeli concessions: • agreement to the establishment of a Palestinian state; • consent for an extraterritorial corridor linking the Gaza Strip with the Palestinian areas of the West Bank; • a pledge of financial assistance for the absorption and rehabilitation of Palestinian refugees outside Israel’s final borders; • the Palestinians could continue to claim the moral right of return; • with respect to Jerusalem, the proposal for enlarging its municipal boundaries as a way of forming a “Greater Jerusalem” municipality incorporating the Arab villages of Abu Dis and al-Azariyya would be given due consideration, which might then legitimately fulfill the Palestinians’ demand for constituting their official capital within the confines of al-Quds. Palestinian concessions: • there is nothing sacred about the pre-1967 border; • Israel would not be forced to return to those 1967 lines, nor held to full withdrawal; • the way would now be opened for territorial adjustments (i.e., partitioning) that at least in principle could very well go beyond minor border rectification; • consent for Israel adding large settlements like Ariel, Ma’ale Adumim, and the Etsion bloc to its territory, so that most of the settlers presently on the West Bank would remain inside Israel while also leaving the fewest possible number of Arabs in these annexed areas; • the Jordan Rift Valley—three military areas could be set up under Israeli control but would be scheduled for transfer to Palestinian rule by 2007, at the time of full normalization;

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• the Palestinian state would be demilitarized; • Jerusalem would remain a united city under Israeli sovereignty; • the Palestinian national leadership would declare their conflict with the Jewish state to be terminated and pledge to make no further demands upon Israel. Of particular interest is a Palestinian version of the draft understandings given by Hassan Asfour, himself one of the direct participants.10 He itemizes several other points of apparent agreement not volunteered by Israeli participants or analysts, such as: the territorial compromise would feature an exchange of land that need not be symmetrical. In which case, Israel, in lieu of yielding equivalent land, would compensate the Palestinians by waiving direct territorial control over and along the safe passage routes. Similarly, Asfour’s understanding of the understandings implies that the Palestinian state in the making would reserve its unlimited right to absorb Palestinian Arabs in any number but in practical terms forecloses in advance any large-scale “right of return” to former domiciles inside post-1948 Israel. In the aftermath of Rabin’s assassination, three days later, his successor as prime minister, Shimon Peres, when shown the document, expressed skepticism. Peres refused to endorse the Beilin–Abu Mazin scheme on at least three grounds. The sensitive Jerusalem issue remained ambiguous and essentially unresolved.11 Desirous of Israel’s retaining the Jordan Rift in perpetuity, he objected to its transfer even in some distant future. Last, while the proposed pact left Jordanian-Palestinian federation a future possibility, it neglected to guarantee a permanent role for Israel’s strategic partner in Palestinian threat containment, Jordan. Such as forcing strong links between the Palestinian state and the Hashemite Kingdom. What therefore makes the Beilin–Abu Mazin understandings distinctive is that they remain inoperative and nonbinding. Second, the exact nature of the territorial compromise remains unclear. Both before and after, Dr. Beilin has used vague formulations along the lines of a Palestinian state containing Gaza and “nearly all of the West Bank.”12 Hirschfeld only uses ratios with reference to 70 percent of the settlers remaining as part of Israel, not percentages of land earmarked for incorporation into Israel. Nor did the two panels of discussants really succeed in fully resolving all aspects of the Jerusalem issue. So that, until proven otherwise, its inspirational value aside, this nondocument amounts to little more than a private understanding. Moreover, Dr. Beilin soon afterward found it necessary to backtrack somewhat, making concessions to potential right-

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wing domestic political allies in order to gain an equally unconsummated pro-partition accord with Likud Party members seemingly sharing his predisposition toward a liberal territorial compromise with the side opposite, the Palestinians. Abu Mazin, for his part, also became defensive, claiming plausible denial in the face of sharp criticism from within the Palestinian camp. Hence their respective dismissal of any formal or binding undertaking in what was, in any case, a nonpaper. That said, the unconsummated Beilin–Abu Mazin and Beilin-Eitan efforts (see chapter 8) remain relevant to permanent status. At the diplomatic level, the former points the general way toward an honorable Israeli-Palestinian territorial compromise settlement. While the latter provides some sort of domestic “bridging formula” between Labor and Likud that, under certain conditions and even in the Netanyahu era, represents the rudimentary basis for a broader unity government and Israeli national consensus about what constitutes an honorable peace. Beyond this, however, the existence, indeed the imminence, of minimax still begs for an authoritative answer. One way or another, diplomatic year 1999 may satisfy the need for clarity about prospects for genuine reconciliation and for interconnected coexistence. Recall that May 4, 1999, commemorates five years to the day the signing in Cairo on May 4, 1994, of the interim Oslo accord that, by consent, allotted two years for opening permanent status negotiations and three more years for those talks to produce a final peace settlement. By right, Israeli-Palestinian meetings on the long list of permanent status modalities ought to have begun in May 1996 and to have continued in earnest thereafter until on or before the designated May 4, 1999, designated deadline. Instead, aside from a purely ceremonial formal opening session on May 4, 1996, respecting the Cairo protocol, the three-year grace period for ongoing, paced bilateral conferencing and exchange of bargaining positions was frittered away. Permanent status, quite simply, was pushed into the background—postponed indefinitely because of the ongoing series of crises, impasses, and backtracking that trace in large part to interim status ambiguities and unfinished business. Yet, even during the weeks and months of damage control, efforts at getting the diplomatic process back on track, and stabilizing the status quo negative equilibrium, May 4, 1999, increasingly loomed on the horizon, offering boundless scenarios about how the peace process might, should, or would work itself out. Common to them all: the time factor’s emerging salience, either as a constraint or as a catalyst.

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In the midst of heightening uncertainty only one thing seems certain. Even after the magical but also dreaded date of May 4 partitionism’s prospects, and those of partition plus in particular, for serving as the permanent status peace construct of last choice for Israelis and Palestinians is at last going to be clarified. Procedurally, the final terms of settlement could be defined by the two sides in intense, bilateral and, above all, businesslike marathon bargaining sessions: at a Camp David–like summit meeting facilitated by the United States or, alternatively, although less likely given the pressure of time, under the auspices of an international Middle East conference. Similarly, permanent status could proceed, however behind schedule, in either of two modes: sequenced or parallel. Meaning, linked to and made conditional upon prior implementation of Israel’s second redeployment, thereby forfeiting precious time needed for negotiation and consultation, or else, unlinked, in which case the final negotiations would be conducted concurrent with the second- and even third-phased IDF withdrawals.13 Another variable revolves around whether post-May 4 finds Israelis and Palestinians agreeing or disagreeing on basic policy about how to proceed—or about the peace terms. In the latter event the most likely scenario had Yasir Arafat playing his, and the Palestinians’, “trump card”: presenting Israel, the U.S., and the world with a fait accompli. The Palestinian Authority, working through its constituent institutions, would base themselves on a number of justifications in belatedly marking the passing of May 4 by declaring unilateral independence in lieu of a bilateral permanent status accord. Delaying tactics by Israel in honoring its commitment to the aspirations of Palestinian statehood were simply no longer tolerable. Second, the Palestinians meet the minimum prerequisites for sovereignty: effective control over territory. Even barring a second turnover, full authority over most of the Gaza Strip, 3 percent of the West Bank outright, plus another 27 percent in which extensive influence and civil-administrative control were being exercised. Moreover, such an initiative enjoyed widespread outside support, with prompt recognition from the vast majority of foreign countries conferring international legitimacy.14 Therefore, in accordance with their interpretation of Oslo’s true intent, and exercising the undeniable right of the Palestinian people, they thereby declare the creation of the independent state of Palestine. Unilaterally putting Palestine on the map, in turn, would elicit either of two responses by Israel. Necessary acceptance of the fait accompli. Or reprisal measures, like condemning the act as a gross and substantial violation of the Oslo accords and fiercely campaigning against it; termi-

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nating any second or third stage redeployments then in progress; annexing all 144 Jewish settlements, security areas, and major highways and extending sovereignty to the remainder of West Bank territory (Areas B or C) still under Israeli control; taking lower-level retaliatory measures, including curbing water supplies and preventing safe passage between Gaza and the West Bank, aimed at strangling the fledgling state at its inception. The inevitable consequence would be the domino effect of leading both sides back down the path of confrontation and violence, setting back the cause of peace indefinitely. For precisely this reason, well before May 1999 voices could be heard urging caution; surprisingly, on both sides of the great Arab-Israeli divide and from unexpected sources. Dr. Haidar abd al-Shafi, to cite one example, opposed to Arafat’s earlier Oslo concessions to Israel, in 1998 dismissed rising sentiment for proclaiming independence on the grounds that it was meaningless given the previous declaration of Palestinian statehood in November 1988 at the dramatic session of the PNC in Algeria.15 Yossi Beilin, who previously regarded the May deadline as inviolate and who, indeed, had urged proceeding directly to permanent status negotiations, by the summer of 1998 was lobbying for pushing back the timetable by two years, until January 2000, because time had run out for early and calm talks by May 1999 and because of well-founded prospects of violence. In exchange for PA consent to defer the moment of truth, he, Beilin, proposed Israel accept now the principle of a demilitarized Palestinian state, with orderly paced negotiation to follow and the Palestinian unilateral prerogative to be exercised, if all else failed, by 2001.16 Taking a somewhat different tack, Ariel Sharon, famous for his opposing concessions to the Palestinians, already a year before the deadline had begun to counsel proposals for an extended interim period and a state of nonbelligerence. In effect he was asking the Palestinians not to abandon unilateralism so much as to put a freeze on it temporarily. In return, Sharon dangled such quid pro quos as the prospect of territorial continuity between Nablus and Jenin, greater Israeli flexibility on creating Palestinian enclaves in proposed security zones, and gathering Likud government de facto recognition for the eventual Palestinian state if established by agreement.17 Above all, Sharon cautioned that the chain reaction of uncoordinated statehood in May 1999, Israeli sanctions, and a renewed intifada by way of Palestinian counterretaliation would be disastrous for Israelis and Palestinians in about equal measure. A summary of 1999 options and scenarios the closer the deadline approached thus showed: a credible threat of unilateral Palestinian state-

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hood, in effect terminating the Oslo experiment in peacemaking, bilateral agreement to reschedule and for all intents defer permanent status, hurried, almost frenzied, talks aimed at averting either the former or the latter and at meeting both the peace commitment and the peace deadline. Statesmen and politicians, true to form, have no difficulty in seeing the wisdom of delay. Arab-Israel history, on the other hand, offers ample evidence where time-outs, reassessments, changing administrations, and otherwise leisurely paced negotiation fail by affording extremists and political opponents of concessions the time they need to plot and execute one form or another of provocation aimed at derailing the process. So do phased negotiation processes spread out over time, and playing for time, tend to foster hopes by the negotiating parties themselves, and not their opponents at home, that time can be exploited to extract better, even optimal terms of settlement. Actually, there is something to be said for keeping as close as possible to the agreed May 1999 timetable. And not just to discourage such delusions, to thwart opponents of a settlement, and to avert unanticipated events prejudicial to the cause of peace. It is hard to imagine a better, riper, or more opportune moment for pushing through to endgame. It is better to force the issue now of territorial compromise, yes or no . . . unilateral and de facto or in concert . . . hermetic or integrated. The less time available when forced to work under a deadline, possibly the more earnest the diplomatic talks. Nor is it the case that Israeli and Palestinian negotiating teams have been idle throughout the overly extended interim phase and therefore unprepared to get down to business on permanent status. Every one of the issues still outstanding is fully understood by now. Both sides, if anything, have had ample time to commission position papers, expert opinion, and alternative maps and to frame starting proposals and counterpropositions. I, for one, do not see anything to be gained by either more ambiguity or further foot-dragging. Historic crossroads are meant to be crossed. Piecing Palestine True reconciliation takes place in the hearts and minds of adversaries. But, first, compromise on the ground. Until then, the irresistibility and finality of a partitionist peace must be respected, but only as an article of faith rather than empirical fact or documented commitment. Originating in now forgotten times, the shared Arab-Zionist struggle for land possession continues today. The final stages of the peace talks

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are going to highlight this even more. But why wait until the permanent status negotiations themselves either to appreciate the territorial dimensions of Israeli-Palestinian war and peace or to confront them intellectually, and academically? Already now the post-1993 preliminaries to the permanent status negotiations convey the full impact of the latest “great divide”—Israeli-Palestinian divisiveness over redividing Palestine. Middle East conflict termination has to be concerned with an asymmetry in the respective stages of Israeli and Palestinian political development in thinking—and then doing—the previously unthinkable. Indeed, in my opinion, Israelis and Palestinians are not only 50 percent of the solution. Each in its own distinctive way represents half the problem in repartitioning Palestine. Israel in many ways has undergone what social scientists would categorize as a paradigm shift to partitionism that the Palestinians have yet to fully undertake or complete. In the instance of Israel, its territorialist diehards have been thrown on the defensive and to a considerable extent marginalized. A majority of Israelis affiliated with both the major political parties are by now conditioned to ending up at best with only some percentage— and possibly only a very small fraction—of Judea and Samaria. As Prime Minister Netanyahu’s own public ruminations throughout most of 1997 suggest, in arguing heatedly over alternative territorial compromise maps tens upon thousands of serious and nonideological Israelis are preparing themselves for a partitionist peace. In fact, by leaving most of the Gaza Strip, by yielding control over all major Arab population centers on the West Bank, and in settling for a confined presence in Hebron, Israel is already well on the way to actually carrying out the previously unthinkable. As indicated by the Netanyahu, Mordechai, and Sharon plans, as of 1998 even Likud rank-and-file members were resigned to territorial compromise. If it isn’t this “bunch of lines,” then it will be another. Their fight today—more in the nature of a rearguard action—concentrates upon five chief concerns. That Israel yield as little as possible of its West Bank holdings. That few West Bank Jewish settlements be dismantled and all remaining ones be tied formally and directly to Israel. That the Palestinian authority be held to “entity” status rather than statehood. That full security precautions be taken. And that, toward this end, the Palestinian areas be demilitarized. What really matters is that Israelis in overwhelming numbers are coming to terms with the repartition of the “Land of Israel.” The various maps

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now on the table, and in the public eye, do more than merely confirm territorial compromise; they give the abstract principle tangible expression. A principle that, if adopted in open negotiation, must lead almost inexorably to a Palestinian state in large parts of the West Bank and Gaza. Not so readily evident, frankly, is any necessarily reciprocal (not to mention equivalent) paradigm shift in the Palestinian camp. If some of the more extreme and demanding Israeli map proposals are less than forthcoming, still, they do not rival Palestinian peace proposals and map sketches in parsimony. With few exceptions, Palestinian territorial formulations do not openly talk in terms of yielding 20, 10, or even 5 percent of the land. Witness as well the absence of candid discussion, diversity of opinion, voices resignedly searching for other than all-or-nothing formulas and courageously raised on behalf of genuine compromise or of concrete map proposals reflecting territorial redistribution. In sum: adopting territorial compromise in the fullest accepted sense of the term in place of the nonviable option of “land for peace.” For these reasons the New York Times’s Thomas Friedman notes of Palestinian opinion and policy makers: “They have done nothing to prepare their people for getting back anything less than 100 percent of the West Bank.”18 This, from a close pro-partitionist outside observer with, if anything, a bias for discovering positive proof of a symmetrical move among leading Palestinians and Israelis alike toward partitionism. Many international third parties agree that Israel cannot return to the vulnerable, illogical makeshift 1949–1967 armistice frontiers. The Palestinians, on the other hand, have made it clear they feel differently and are holding out for repossessing the entire West Bank. Encouraging their uncompromising stance is a chain of assumptions that in the end it will be Israel (and not they) left with no choice but to capitulate. If one so wishes, the post-Sadat Sinai accords can serve as a signpost for Israeli withdrawal under pressure and settlement removal lock, stock, and barrel. Along these same lines, Arab commentators pounce upon mounting evidence in the wake of the Soviet Union’s disintegration under external containment that so, too, will a deeply divided Israeli polity eventually implode. That the Jewish state is no longer capable of marshaling the group cohesiveness necessary for resisting combined pressure leveled against it. And from so many different quarters: the League of Arab States, the Islamic bloc, an America eager for Mideast peace at almost any price short of throwing Israel to the wolves, and censure of Israel at the bar of world opinion as the sole recalcitrant party. All this plus

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the double-barreled proverbial “shotgun in the closet”: resumption of the intifada as both a military threat and diplomatic option and unilateral statehood without Israel’s consent or cooperation. Which makes one wonder why Israeli policy makers have not sought sooner rather than later to force the key issue of exactly which governing principle is to guide the crucial, most sensitive final status mapmaking. Is it to be “land for peace,” implying a unilateral, and total, withdrawal by Israel from the West Bank? Or “territorial compromise,” with a repartition and redrawing of lines that will in the end also leave Israel— with Palestinian concurrence—in possession of parts of the contested area? Thus in late 1997/early 1998 the Israeli government inexplicably passed up an otherwise golden opportunity to tie further redeployment to hardand-fast Palestinian commitments on final status. The December and January Cabinet decisions insisted on a direct linkage between the Palestinian side carrying out to the letter its threefold pledge in the January 1997 Hebron “Note for the Record” on extradition to Israel of Palestinian terror suspects, disarming Hamas militants, and amending the PLO Charter, and Israel’s carrying out as many as three further army pullbacks. But the Cabinet stopped short and may not have even considered as a fourth precondition extracting from the Palestinian leadership their precedent-setting acceptance already now, in the interim stage and before the opening of the final status talks, of permanent possession by Israel of any area whatsoever—the Gush Etsion bloc, for example. Such a move by Jerusalem might have done more than just improve Israel’s own position, hastening instead the time when both sides achieve similar levels of realism and reach parity in unambiguously tying themselves to “fairshare” repartition. Both sides continue to stand their ground, literally and diplomatically. Neither is prepared to budge; or at least not in perfect step. Not voluntarily, nor readily to concede territorial possession or claims to possession. Recent negotiations over ending the terrorism-closure cycle, over further Israeli interim-stage redeployments, and over every single act of housing or roadwork by either side more than adequately dramatize just how limited the choices really are. We cannot possibly know as yet what Arab-Israeli-Palestinian ripeness is going to look like, how a definitive peace will translate into concrete, geopolitical, territorial terms or, third, the contours of the repartition map. But we can presume at the conclusion of this study to know what they must each involve and the overall course they must take.

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Partition Plus In order to stay apart for a necessary healing period Israelis and Palestinians are going to have to come together, at least in a minimal sense, for reasons of self-interest. Because it all comes down to a single stark reality: either these two antagonists are going to perpetuate their mutually hurting stalemate, cutting each other to pieces in the future, or they will have to cut Palestine into pieces. Out of abhorrence toward the former, in deference to the latter, and although mindful that modern nationalisms are perfectly capable of remaining impervious to logic and reason, at the end of the day the promised land will have to be compromised. Ripeness is a register of multiple transformations—those consummated and those fairly well underway. One set of moves involves going from undiluted suspicion to guarded trust, exchanging undisguised ill will for a modicum of goodwill, and substituting a qualified and hesitant partnership in conflict termination for enemy status. In moving from battlefield to negotiating table, the pendulum likewise shifts from abstractions to blueprints and practical problem solving—and from dreams and ideal-type solutions to workable, real-world ones, imperfections and all. Once Israelis and Palestinians give up temporizing and palliatives in favor of permanent arrangements that have about them an air of finality, another set of transformations has to take the parties beyond formal procedures to the heart and substance of peace and of peaceful relationships. Directness, clarity, and explicitness at last replace ambiguity and evasiveness in forging compromises made as much for the present generation of those living as on behalf of unborn future ones. Repartitioning—the end product of ripeness—in turn faces in effect three separate hurdles, each having to be cleared before any definitive verdict can be rendered: • prepartition—where we are at present. Here the two sides must wrestle with the partition issues discussed in this book, and still others, like refugee repatriation, resettlement, and compensation, only referred to in passing. All we can add is a reminder that peacemaking represents for each side a perpetual compromise between present constraints and future hopes. • implementation—assuming partition’s components are satisfactorily hammered out, the complicated peace pact then has to be put into effect quickly, and with as little dislocation as possible. Already at midnight, immediately following the ratification ceremony, complex bor-

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der, transit, and jurisdictional arrangements are going to go into effect on the ground and all along the new lines of separation and disengagement. Perhaps this is the appropriate opportunity in our summation for reemphasizing just how important it is to keep foremost in mind that territorial compromise is not simply a diplomatic milestone, some paper affair, or a sterile map exercise. Any political redivision of necessity must affect great numbers of real people most directly, their families and local communities as well as interpersonal and intercommunal relationships, national prospects, and state capabilities. And it is here where the greatest mutual sensitivity will need to be shown in averting a repeat of the India-Pakistan nightmare or, for that matter, the 1948 and 1967 experiences in Palestine, by assuring a peaceful managed partition. Also needed is heightened vigilance by police and security forces on both sides in countering resistance and in punishing any violations of the solemn mutual undertakings. • postpartition—combating hubris. Let it be noted that success in each of the previous two stages is still no automatic guarantee of ultimate success. Even given the formal assent of both parties to a territorial division scheme and their professional execution of its various clauses and detailed provisions, the fear of failure remains. Normalization—people to people as well as government to government—then becomes critically important for the longer course of Israeli-Palestinian rapprochement. What would kill the peace and provide critics of partitionism with proof of yet another monumental failure are either of two rebuffs: one from within the Israeli-Palestinian peace regime itself, the other external to it. Illustrating the former would be any breakdown in sustained cooperation tracing to the vagaries of Israeli and Palestinian domestic politics, such as the rise of irredentism, for this would threaten the core premise of goodwill. Whereas a loss of sustained interest by the United States and other international indirectly concerned parties, for example, or a reversion to Middle East political instability reminiscent of the 1960s, coupled with Islamic ascendancy and regional nuclearization, would further test the staying power of a necessarily narrow and fragile bilateral peace structure. As for the actual terms of settlement: What kinds of lines? Neat or jagged? Solid, or dotted and perforated? Porous and receptive, or restricted, fortified, and reclusive?—and how the partition principle might

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be superimposed against the backdrop of a geophysical map of “Palestine.” Doubtless nearly every variant imaginable is already available in position papers and memoranda, on the internet, in think tank monographs, newspaper files, and the voluminous scholarly literature. Besides, in the second instance, the final division of land will be drafted not by academics but by the negotiating parties themselves. We do note, however, that the land and its harsh realities and limitations must insinuate themselves onto any peace plan—territorial compromise not excluded. Therefore, instead of a prescriptive map of dubious practical value, perhaps some useful steering principles are more in order and merit the widest possible endorsement in striving to achieve any kind of realistic partition: • unfettered political sovereignty in the circumstances of Israel/Palestine is chimerical; • just as complete economic independence is not in the cards—only the opportunity to build economic growth upon shared resources and joint needs; • forced “ethnic cleansing” is proscribed, although a modest, controlled exchange of populations should not be ruled out, providing it is strictly voluntary and stands to aid in smoothing the lines of disengagement and in avoiding “captive minorities”; • the surgical clean cut, no matter how desirable in terms of the nationstate ideal of one state–one nation, is a sheer impossibility; • future borders will not be impermeable; • nor will Israelis and Palestinians achieve through partition anything approximating assured security—only reasonable levels of perceived personal and group security; • similarly, settling historical land claims by repartitioning Palestine does not carry with it iron-clad guarantees of a permanent or perfect peace. “Separate but dependent” may thus be a more realistic pro-partition campaign slogan than “separate and equal.” For the reason that formal political separation probably better defines the limits of the possible for now than does talk about physical and ethnic separation. Instead of being thrust together physically while totally estranged in spirit and loyalties, Arabs and Jews have it in their power to separate politically while sharing space and varying degrees of independence, dependence, and interdependence. This partition plus formula of a mixed relationship has been applied in the earlier chapters of this volume on economic and security cooperation, Jerusalem, and safe passage.

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While decidedly imperfect, what partition does stand to achieve from the larger perspective of past Israeli-Palestinian relations is nonetheless profound. So prized by both sides, formal political separation at best is going to be contingent. In other words, partition’s claim to being just but also lasting is one part entirely questionable and one part completely unknowable. This is, appropriately, the final point to be covered in this guide and primer to the emerging debate over permanent status that in fairness requires mention. We are entitled to take up support for the basic partitionist prescription on any number of grounds—on its own merit or compared to the other basic alternatives and peace constructs—but not because it necessarily promises to be durable and long-standing. What gives pause is that any Israeli-Palestinian territorial compromise regime might easily prove short-lived in the postpartition stage. Peacemakers and mapmakers anywhere enjoy the best prospects for successful partition when the following six conditions obtain. One, homogeneity within each of the resultant self-contained units, giving real substance to the desire of two peoples for apartness. Two, expansiveness of the land to be parceled out. Three, also its bountifulness, in the sense of natural resources enabling self-sufficiency and sustained economic growth. Four, ease of border demarcation, facilitated by natural markers and straight dividing lines. Five, outside compensatory mechanisms, such as ample financial remuneration for those forced to pay the price of partition or supplemental external security safeguards and diplomatic support. Six, mutual consent that is given not so much begrudgingly and under duress or out of exhaustion but a partition freely entered into, even to the point of enthusiasm for the chance to be separate, self-sufficient, and independent. Palestine, to be sure, offers suboptimal conditions in each and every category. Similarly, depending upon political motivations and circumstances prevailing at the time, a partition regime thought to be permanent and final when negotiated in 1999–2001 may represent instead merely a transitory period of uncertain duration. It could in fact end up being only a preliminary first stage for any of several recombinations governed by the force of future events. Arranged from worst-case to best-case scenarios, revanchist tendencies in Israel, but more plausibly in the prospective Palestinian state, could leave the partitionist peace a halfway house by seeking expression westward, eastward, or, conceivably, in both directions.

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The Old Testament Prophecy Not altogether inconceivable is a serious deterioration in the security situation inside or along Israel’s revised frontiers. Major infractions by Palestinian elements in direct violation of the peace treaty’s terms include stepped-up terrorist attacks launched from Palestinian territory, remilitarization of areas designated as buffer zones, opening Palestine’s borders or airspace to military units from a third Arab country—any one of which might serve as the casus belli. Prodded by ultranationalists keen on fulfilling biblical territorial injunctions and unreconciled to the 1993–1999 withdrawals, Israeli leaders would then feel compelled—even against their own considered judgment and despite the anticipated military casualties—to reoccupy the West Bank on the grounds of self-defense, thereby putting an end to the experiment in Palestinian self-rule. The “Crusader” Precedent With or without due provocation from Israel, the Palestinian authorities could refuse to be bound any longer by the principles of peaceful coexistence, reverting to a traditional anti-Zionist posture and launching a campaign for the elimination of the constricted Jewish state west of the reconstituted green line. Under this scenario it makes little difference whether Palestinian rule had been restricted by treaty to less than half the disputed territory, to control of 85–90 percent of the land, or even held sway over the West Bank in its entirety. The “Black September” Reckoning Expansionist tendencies in the opposite direction, eastward across the Jordan River, could be propelled by a combination of two, possibly even three motivating factors. One is an effective deterrent posture by Israel. A second: the desire of the Palestinians to settle old accounts with the Hashemites, avenging the 1970 bloody suppression of Palestinians throughout the East Bank but really tracing back to a more fundamental clash of geopolitical interests than dynastic differences. The third motivation, however, has its roots in demographic politics. Borrowing upon Benedict Anderson’s idea of “imagined communities,” the emotional bounds of Palestinian consciousness and identity cannot help but extend further than the boundaries of any partitioned Palestine state, no matter how liberal its political borders. Therein lies the potential, and pretext, for policies aiming in the foreseeable future at reunification with the two major Palestinian diaspora wings: the million Palestinian Arabs inside postpartition Israel and considerably more in adjacent Jordan.

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To be sure, much of what might or might not transpire within the Israel-Palestine-Jordan triangle must hinge upon uncertain variables: the caliber and priorities of Palestine’s leadership, the staying power of the Israeli state and society as well as the deterrent capability of a redeployed Israeli army, how the deeper Jordanian succession process works itself out over the next several years, the alliance patterns along each of the three respective Israeli-Palestinian, Israeli-Jordanian, Jordanian-Palestinian axes. The Confederation Construct Our fourth scenario is altogether different from the previous three in that it is premised (a) upon a league of equal actors, (b) upon peaceful rather than hostile takeover bids, (c) upon converting interconnectedness into a virtue. In this instance postpartition collaboration, displacing enmity, lies at the heart of the reconfiguration, as do considerations of reciprocal rather than unilateral, or exclusive, advantage. Separating, Together As difficult to visualize as it may be today, nevertheless, it is entirely conceivable that the next generation of younger Israeli, Jordanian, and Palestinian leaders might be more inclined to acknowledge the inadmissibility, indeed the futility, of hermetic “hard” partition among three small states in cramped quarters—and in an age of regional consolidation and globalization. Whether because more confident culturally and nationally by then, or simply more businesslike and future-oriented than ideological and reflective, they could achieve a meeting of minds in setting their countries’ sights on a more integrative pattern of trilateral relationships through the exercise of condominium. The two greatest benchmarks for partition in Palestine, the 1937 Peel Commission report and the 1947 UNSCOP majority proposal, were right on target in advocating the wisdom of political separation for Arabs and Jews within a single geographic entity and integrated ecosystem. Where they were badly off the mark and woefully premature, however, was in presuming a minimal willingness to cooperate. Israelis and Palestinians—neither community needs to dislodge the other at this stage of their respective national histories. Nor can they. Instead of devising ways to impoverish themselves and one another, creative energies and talents might better be channeled toward reassurance and getting on with their respective national agendas. Tragically, it has taken more than sixty years for the respective nationalist sides to even begin to appreciate these truths.

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In concluding this study, there is in all honesty no objective logic to partition, and there may not be one. The logic for partition must be created. In the instance of Arabs and Jews in Palestine, the rationale begins with each side holding an impressive moral and historical claim that cannot be dismissed lightly or arbitrarily. Neither, second, can either group’s physical presence in meaningful numbers and in effective possession of large portions of the land simply be canceled with a wave of the hand or by the sword of ethnic cleansing. Third is partition’s logic as the “least bad” option under prevailing circumstances. It is a rational choice, given the absence of other more viable, convincing, or appealing alternatives. Shimon Peres and others experienced in the ArabIsraeli diplomatic wars are absolutely right in cautioning: “On such a small piece of land, with such a long history, with such a great conflict—it’s very hard to find solutions.”19 Partition plus constructs offer a timely word of encouragement: solutions very hard to craft, although not impossible. More than that, a soft partition-based separation is also politically and morally defensible. It has elements of political realism. It makes no pretenses: neither about securing absolute justice nor full separation. There is no coercion: neither in forcing Israelis and Palestinians to cohabit nor in compelling them to divide and be divided . . . other than by appealing to reason and to enlightened self-interest. The best it can offer is mutual dependence . . . but also the largest measure of freedom attainable under the circumstances. Partition-plus acknowledges right with right. It avoids exclusive or total land possession. Its foundations are negotiating differences, agreement, accommodation, compensation, compromise, territorial compromise, interconnectedness, separatism where possible—coordination where both necessary and beneficial—and, not least, creative statecraft. And despite the fact that partitionism as theory and as formula might not be working anywhere else in the world, it might just find some degree of vindication here, oddly enough, in this most entangled of all contemporary ethnic and intercommunal disputes. Fourth, partition constitutes the irreducible price for previous errors of omission or commission; for earlier insensitivities, blind spots, and intransigence; for missed opportunities; for being hopelessly mismatched— or, rather, too evenly matched in this singularly bloody standoff! Last, territorial partition needs to be sold to Israelis and Palestinians alike as, first, their only realistic hope for exiting the ruinous Palestine maze and, second, as partition plus.

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From this standpoint, perhaps the strongest line of defense behind a late-1990s updated version of the original partitionist format is this. Once politically partitioned, secure, and self-confident, the two directly concerned Israeli and Palestinian communities will then know to come together in responding to issues calling for joint responsibility and a shared fate. At which time borders become joint enterprises instead of dividing lines. Were this to be the case five to ten years from now, it would completely alter future perspectives on the present peacemaking ordeal. From those heights territorially compromising Palestine will come to be seen less as a definitive endgame or exit strategy than as a qualified partition— an interim, possibly necessary, and indispensable preparatory phase paving the way for norms, institutions, and conventions of closer cooperation. A dialectic of disengagement leading later on to more meaningful reengagement. Thus viewed, partition plus territorial compromise marks a terminus, an exit from the conflict maze as well as a point of departure. Rather than final, irrevocable divorce—a kind of agreed trial separation or cooling-off period allowing for joint custody over a much compromised land. Although lacking all-important particulars, and with no assurances in hand, still, it is just possible the long struggle for mastery over Palestine, mutually hurting stalemate, and bloody standoff could be nearing an end. Only that upon arriving there through the path never before taken—agreed territorial compromise—Israelis and Palestinians may discover it is merely yet another crossroads. But this time a decisional crossroads offering them a prospective future of great promise and potential. There can be an end to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. But not to the ongoing Arab-Jewish encounter.

Notes

Introduction 1. A distinction made by Paul F. Diehl, Jennifer Reifschneider, and Paul R. Hensel in their article, “United Nations Intervention and Recurring Conflict,” International Organization, vol. 50, no. 4 (Autumn 1996), pp. 683–700. 2. Dr. Yossi Beilin, “The Opportunity That Was Not Missed,” in Barry Rubin, Joseph Ginat, Moshe Maoz, eds., From War to Peace: Arab-Israeli Relations, 1973–1993 (Brighton: Sussex Academic Press, 1994), p. 28. 3. Edward W. Said, Peace and Its Discontents (New York: Vintage, 1995), p. 31. So, too, is there merit in his insistence that “to speak in grandiose geopolitical terms, or to speak mindlessly about ‘separating’ them is nothing less than to provide prescriptions for more violence and degradation” (italics mine), p. 164. 1. Just Stability, or a Just Peace? 1. The literature on ripeness begins with the pioneering work of I. William Zartman, Ripe for Resolution: Conflict and Intervention in Africa (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985); also, I. William Zartman, ed., Elusive Peace: Negotiating an End to Civil Wars (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution, 1995). For a critical review of current thinking on ripeness, the reader is referred to Michael E. Salla, “Creating the ‘Ripe Moment’ in the East Timor Conflict,” Journal of Peace Research, vol. 34, no. 4 (November 1997), pp. 449–466. 2. By a “mutually hurting stalemate” Zartman and others mean that each of the parties perceive the costs and prospects of continued confrontation to be more burdensome than the costs and prospects of a settlement. 3. Because “many conflicts have a self-sustaining dynamic of their own” Fen Osler Hampson feels “the conflict has to reach a plateau” so that the parties “no longer think they can use force to gain a unilateral advantage and they become willing to consider other options.” “Why Orphaned Peace Settlements Are More Prone to Failure,” in Chester A. Crocker and Fen Osler Hampson, eds., Managing Global Chaos (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 1996), pp. 538, 534. Hampson gives the problems of operationalizing ripeness, its tautological connotations, and preventing “unripening” further extensive consideration in her independent study, Nurturing Peace: Why Peace Settlements Succeed or Fail (Washington, D.C.: United States Institute of Peace Press), also published in 1996.

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4. Christopher W. Moore, The Mediation Process: Practical Strategies for Resolving Conflict (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1996). 5. Richard N. Haass, Conflicts Unending (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990), pp. 27–29, as well as chapter 7, “Ripeness and its Implications.” 6. James D. Fearon and David D. Laitin, “Explaining Interethnic Cooperation,” American Political Science Review, vol. 90, no. 4 (December 1996), p. 715. 7. Daniel Druckman and Christopher Mitchell, in their preface to the issue on “Flexibility in International Negotiation and Mediation,” Annals of American Political and Social Science, vol. 542 (November 1995), p. 9. 8. The terms were first coined by Arnold J. Wolfers, Discord and Collaboration: Essays on International Politics (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1962). 9. “If Washington Wants Mideast Peace, It Will Have to Jump In,” International Herald-Tribune, October 22, 1996. 10. Recommended for its many accumulated insights into the mechanics and modalities of Middle East peacemaking is the fascinating and readable study by Kenneth W. Stein and Samuel W. Lewis, Making Peace Among Arabs and Israelis: Lessons from Fifty Years of Negotiating Experience (Washington: U.S. Institute of Peace, 1991). The thirty-nine-page paper deserves updating, to benefit from the Madrid and Oslo experiences as well as subsequent events. 11. Henry Siegman, “The Peace Process Is Dead, Unless Israelis Resolve to Save It,” International-Herald Tribune, October 17, 1996. 12. Alan Dowty, The Jewish State: A Century Later (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), p. 236. 2. First Choice or Last Resort? 1. See, Arend Lijphart, The Politics of Accommodation (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1968); also see Daniel J. Elazar, Exploring Federalism (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1987). 2. Edward W. Said. Peace and Its Discontents (New York: Vintage, 1995),p. 31. 3. The term prenational or potential nations appears in the collection of essays by Walker Connor, Ethnocentrism: The Quest for Understanding (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), p. 79. 4. This claim is made by John J. Mearsheimer in a New York Time op-ed piece entitled “The Only Exit From Bosnia” (October 7, 1997). 5. Aharon Klieman, “Territorially Based Ethnic Disputes: Does Democracy Offer a Diplomatic Solution?” in Yoram Dinstein, ed., The Israel Yearbook on Human Rights, vol. 26 (The Hague: Martinius Nijhoff, 1997), pp. 219–237. 6. Mark Helprin, “For a New Concert of Europe,” Commentary, vol. 101, no. 1 (January 1996), p. 33. 7. Partition as applied by Great Britain in its “retreat from empire” is reconsidered by Robert Holland, Carl Bridge, and H. V. Brasted in their article, “Coun-

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sels of Despair or Withdrawals with Honour?” subtitled “Partitioning in Ireland, India, Palestine and Cyprus, 1920–1960,” appearing in the British journal Round Table, no. 342 (April 1997), pp. 257–268. Of exceptional quality and insight are the earlier reflections of Nicholas Mansergh in his 1976 Commonwealth lecture published as The Prelude to Partition: Concepts and Aims in Ireland and India (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978). 8. Harold and Margaret Sprout, The Ecological Perspective on Human Affairs (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965); K. J. Holsti, International Politics: A Framework for Analysis (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1967), and his more recent important book on Peace and War: Armed Conflicts and International Order (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991). Reexamination of partition as a modern political-geographical attribute and process is evident in the work of Haifa University geographer Stanley Waterman. See his “Partitioned States,” Political Geograpy Quarterly, vol. 6, no. 2 (April 1987), pp. 151–170; and “Partition, Secession, and Peace in Our Time,” GeoJournal vol. 39, no. 4 (August 1996), pp. 345–352. Another Israeli colleague, David Newman, at Ben-Gurion University’s Department of Geography, has been doing interesting research that derives from a partitionist perspective. For example, see his study on the territorial discourse within Israel entitled “Creating the Fences of Territorial Separation: The Discourses of Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Resolution,” Geopolitics and International Boundaries, vol. 2, no. 2 (Autumn 1997), pp. 1–35. 9. William C. Olson and A. J. R. Groom, International Relations Then and Now (London and New York: Routledge, 1991), pp. 171, 175. 10. Morton A. Kaplan, System and Process in International Politics (New York: Wiley, 1957); Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A Study in International Politics (New York: Columbia University Press, 1977); and Hedley Bull and Adam Watson, eds., The Expansion of International Society (New York: Oxford University Press, 1984); Kenneth N. Waltz, Theory of International Politics (Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1979). 11. Michael J. Sheehan, The Balance of Power: History and Theory (New York: Routledge, 1996). 12. I. William Zartman. The 50 Percent Solution (Garden City: Anchor, 1976). 13. John J. Mearsheimer, “Shrink Bosnia to Save It,” New York Times, March 31, 1993. 14. John J. Mearsheimer and Stephen Van Evera, “When Peace Means War,” New Republic, December 18, 1995, pp. 16–21. 15. Gregory Clark, “Divide Them and Leave Reunion for Calmer Times,” International Herald-Tribune, May 14, 1993. 16. Graham E. Fuller, “Redrawing the World’s Borders,” World Policy Journal (Spring 1997), pp. 11–21. 17. Quoted in Robert Schaeffer, Warpaths: The Politics of Partition (New York: Hill and Wang, 1990), p. xi. This same sentiment is echoed by T. G. Fraser

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in his comparative study, Partition in Ireland, India, and Palestine (New York: St. Martin’s, 1984), where he concludes that partition “was agreed to by weary men desperate to see a way out of seemingly intractable bloody struggles” (p. 196). 18. Schaeffer, Warpaths, p. 253. 19. Huntington first presented his provocative thesis in the now classic article, “The Clash of Civilizations,” Foreign Affairs, vol. 72, no. 3 (Summer 1993), pp. 22–49, followed by Samuel P. Huntington, “The West Unique, Not Universal,” also in Foreign Affairs, vol. 75, no. 6 (November/December 1996), pp. 28–46. His arguments were then expanded into book form: Samuel P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1996). 20. Donald L. Horowitz, Ethnic Groups in Conflict (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1985), p. 589. Two studies of note receptive to partition in principle are Clive J. Christie, “Partition, Separatism, and National Identity: A Reassessment,” Political Quarterly, vol. 63, no. 1 (January-March 1992), pp. 68–78; and Chaim D. Kaufmann, “When All Else Fails: Ethnic Population Transfers and Partitions in the Twentieth Century,” International Security, vol. 23, no. 2 (Fall 1998), pp. 120–156. 21. Economist, September 5, 1992. 22. Michael Walzer, “Modern Tribalism,” Dialogue, no. 99 (1993), p. 15. 23. Indicative of partition’s marginalization in international relations theory the literature on the subject is rather limited. Standard works include Thomas E. Hachey, The Problem of Partition: Peril to World Peace (Chicago: Rand McNally, 1972); Ray Edward Johnston, The Politics of Division, Partition, and Unification (New York: Praeger, 1976). These have been supplemented in more recent years by two studies, both unsympathetic to partition’s utility, even in the narrower context of ethnic politics and independence movements: Robert Schaeffer’s Warpaths: The Politics of Partition and Radha Kumar, Divide and Fall? Bosnia in the Annals of Partition (London: Verso, 1997). 24. Schaeffer, Warpaths, p. 253. 25. Kumar, Divide and Fall? Her “obsession” with partition, proclaimed in a page of acknowlegments, can be forgiven. But not the kind of ideological tirade that sees “travesties” in the Camp David talks and employs shocking instances of historical inaccuracy on top of false analogies and inappropriate comparisons for the sake of a thesis objectively defensible on otherwise legitimate grounds. 26. Ibid., p. xv. 27. Uri Savir, “Collage of Comment, NPQ [New Perspectives Quarterly] (Winter 1997), p. 62. Savir headed Israel’s negotiating team at the secret Oslo talks. 28. Kumar, Divide and Fall? pp. 164–165. 29. Schaeffer, Warpaths, pp. 252–253. 30. Kumar, Divide and Fall? pp. 168, 139.

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31. Gregory Henderson, Richard Ned Lebow, and John G. Stoessinger imposed basic scientific distinctions like that between “divided nations” (Germany, Korea, China-Formosa, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos and Mongolia) and “partitioned countries” (Ireland, India, India-Pakistan-Bangladesh, Ruanda-Urundi, Palestine-Eretz Israel) in their edited earlier book, Divided Nations in a Divided World (New York: David McKay, 1974). 3. Partition and Palestine 1. The poll, held in November-December 1997 and using an identical questionnaire, was conducted jointly by the Jerusalem Media and Communication Center (JMCC) and the Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace Studies at Tel Aviv University. The findings courtesy of the Steinmetz Center. 2. A recent study has been published by the author of ambiguity’s role in diplomacy, with particular reference to its great explanatory power for understanding the failure of Middle East peace initiatives to terminate in Permanent Status agreement. See Aharon Klieman. Constructive Ambiguity in Middle East Peacemaking, Research Report Series no. 10 (Tel Aviv: Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace Research, 1999). 3. International Herald-Tribune, August 8, 1997. 4. Barry Rubin, “The Arab-Israeli Conflict Is Over,” Middle East Quarterly, vol. 3, no. 3 (September 1996), pp. 3–12. 5. Itzhak Galnoor, The Partition of Palestine (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995). 6. The text and wording of Articles 2 and 19 are taken from Y. Harkabi, The Palestinian Covenant and Its Meaning (London: Valentine, Mitchell, 1979), pp. 33 and 76. Harkabi also provides a close analysis of each clause. 7. The text of the Palestinian declaration of independence at Algiers on November 15, 1988, is found in Yehuda Lukacs, ed., The Israeli-Palestinian Conflict: A Documentary Record, 1967–1990 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), pp. 411–414. In addition to expressing belief in the settlement of regional and international disputes by peaceful means in accordance with the UN Charter and resolutions, the declaration also contains the following important statement: “Despite the historical injustice inflicted on the Palestinian Arab people . . . following upon UN General Assembly Resolution 181 (1947), which partitioned Palestine into two states, one Arab, one Jewish, yet it is this Resolution that still provides those conditions of international legitimacy that ensure the right of the Palestinian Arab people to sovereignty” (p. 412). 8. In his December 15, 1988 Geneva press statement, when pressed, the P.L.O. chairman publicly endorsed the UN’s original partition Resolution 181 as the basis for the Palestinian people’s rights to freedom and national independence, as well as the right of all parties to exist in peace and security. Text in Lukacs, The Israeli-Palestinian Conflict, p. 434. 9. An outsider’s plea for binationalism is made in Marc H. Ellis, “The Future

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of Israel/Palestine: Embracing the Broken Middle,” Journal of Palestine Studies, vol. 16, no. 3 (Spring 1997), pp. 56–66. Interestingly, several lonely voices have also been raised of late against separatism and in favor of the binationalist construct on both the Arab and the Israeli side. For example: Jenab Tutunji and Kamal Khaldi, “A binational state in Palestine: The Rational Choice for Palestinians and the Moral Choice for Israelis,” International Affairs, vol. 73, no. 1 (January 1997), pp. 31–58; see also Ghada Karmi, “Life with the Enemy: The One-State Solution,” World Today (August/September 1997), pp. 200–202), wherein the author makes clear her position: a single democratic state including Israelis and Palestinians. This is essentially the approach advocated by Assad Ghanem and Sara Ossatsky-Lezer in their November 16, 1996 op-ed piece that appeared in Ha’aretz under the caption “Two in One State.” Probably the single most read Israeli commentator on the conflict who has consistently defended binationalism is the former deputy mayor of Jerusalem, Meron Benvenisti. His conceived formula for Jews and Arabs living in a shared— and undivided—land combining ethnic and cultural separation within a common geopolitical framework is spelled out in a series of articles published in the Ha’aretz daily, one of which appeared on September 15, 1993, with the title, “Where Did I Err?” His basic thesis of the logic and imperative for ArabJewish coexistence has since been updated: “Who’s Afraid of Binationalism?” August 16, 1996, and “The Evolution of a Concept,” December 5, 1996. English readers will find many of these ideas in Meron Benvenisti, Intimate Enemies (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995). 10. The virtues of federalism, taking the form of shared rule, and how they might be applied to Palestine are best represented consistently over the last twenty years in the writings of Professor Daniel Elazar, The Camp David Framework for Peace: a Shift Toward Shared Rule (Washington: American Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research, 1979), and his subsequent study, Two Peoples—One Land: Federal Solutions for Israel, the Palestinians, and Jordan (Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1991). 11. Shimon Peres, with Arye Naor, The New Middle East (New York: Holt, 1993), pp. 72–73. Since then, Peres’s position has evolved further, to the point that by mid-1998 he openly favored outright Palestinian political independence and full statehood, with or without some form of political affiliation (federation or confederation) to neighboring Jordan. 12. Peres, The New Middle East, p. 173, in a chapter entitled “Confederation,” pp. 163–179. 13. Fouad Ajami, “The Arab Inheritance,” Foreign Affairs, vol. 76, no. 5 (September/October 1997), p. 134. 14. Benjamin A. Netanyahu, A Place Among Nations: Israel and the World (New York: Bantam, 1993). Even more outspoken in carrying the torch for Revisionist antipartitionism in a collection of his newspaper commentaries is

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Binyamin Ze’ev Begin, son of the late premier Menachem Begin, A Zionist Stand (Portland, Or.: Frank Cass, 1993). 15. One of the most recent, scholarly, and extensive studies on the limited self-rule construct is Ruth Lapidoth, Autonomy: Flexible Solutions to Ethnic Conflicts (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 1997). 16. Kenneth W. Stein and Samuel W. Lewis, Making Peace Among Arabs and Israelis: Lessons from Fifty Years of Negotiating Experience (Washington, D.C.: United States Institute of Peace, October 1991), pp. 25–26. 17. Larry L. Fabian, “The Red Light,” Foreign Policy, no. 50 (Spring 1983), p. 53. 18. Any detailed historical analysis of the Palestine conflict through the partitionist prism by right ought to begin the partition chronicle with the end of the First World War. For Arab nationalists Anglo-French dismemberment of the Ottoman Empire arbitrarily divided the Arabs, thereby setting back the goal of Arab unity within a single patrimony. Whereas Zionists and Revisionist-Herut-Likud ideologists in particular regard the severing of Transjordan and the East Bank from the West Bank in 1921–1922 as the British cardinal sin and a betrayal of the Zionist enterprise by restricting settlement activity to western Palestine. Those early interwar events certainly altered the salience and attractiveness of the land prize for both Arabs and Jews. Abdullah’s Transjordanian kingdom represented 76 percent of the total land area at the outset of the Palestine mandate. The effect of divorcing it from the heartland of Palestine has been twofold: limiting territorial competition to the less restricted west bank of the Jordan, in addition to making the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan a third contender for who rules Palestine. 19. The reader will find a useful compendium of the major diplomatic initiatives and specific plans for Arab-Jewish reconciliation that have been tabled over the years, along with a close analysis of each, in Karen Feste, Plans for Peace: Negotiation and the Arab-Israeli Conflict (New York: Greenwood, 1991). An additional source providing the outlines of twenty-nine different peace proposals extending from 1937 to 1991 is Lawrence Joffe, ed., Keesing’s Guide to the Mid-East Peace Process (London: Cartermill, 1996). 20. Eban’s essay, “Partition Revisited,” appeared in the Jerusalem Post, November 27, 1987. 21. From the address by President Bush at the opening session of the Middle East Peace Conference, October 30, 1991. 22. One of the pioneering efforts at getting into the details of possible partition plans is Saul Cohen’s monograph, The Geopolitics of Israel’s Border Question (Boulder: Westview, 1986), under the auspices of the Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies. While Cohen’s primary interest was the future borders between Israel and neighboring Egypt, Jordan, and Syria, he did address the lands within those borders as well. 23. A frank, thorough exploration of four possible relationships between the

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Hashemite monarchy and Palestinian nationalists—drift, a functional scenario, separation, or cooperation—can be found in Mustafa Hamarneh, Rosemary Hollis, and Khalil Shikaki, Jordanian-Palestinian Relations: Where To? (London: Royal Institute for International Affairs, 1997). 24. Laura Zittrain Eisenberg and Neil Caplan, in their excellent textbook for surveying the Palestine conflict, Negotiating Arab-Israeli Peace (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998), at one point insightfully describe the protagonists as “coming full circle” back to the partition concept, and the concept itself as “the default option of their history” (p. 113). 4. Within the Confines of Palestine 1. Arend Lijphart, Democracy in Plural Societies: A Comparative Exploration (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1977), p. 5. 2. Results of the first Palestinian census ever to have been conducted were published in early 1997. They showed 2,920,454 Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza. Although the census provided no breakdown for the West Bank and for Gaza separately, of the total figure given, 210,209 were Palestinians resident in east Jerusalem. The International Herald-Tribune, February 28–March 1, 1997, which also quoted the Israeli Defense Ministry spokesman, who charged the census with inaccuracy, including the inclusion of Arabs living abroad. 3. Ha’aretz, September 7, 1998, using statistics compiled and released for publication by the Ministry of Interior’s population registry at the request of the antisettler Peace Now movement. 4. Joseph Alpher. Settlements and Borders. Final Status Issues: IsraelPalestinians Study No. 3 (Tel Aviv: Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, Tel Aviv University, 1995), p. 3. 5. Ha’aretz, August 17, 1998. Angrily rebutting the memo’s insinuations, Israeli Arab spokesmen charged that “instead of parachuting commissars on us, the government should act to integrate Arabs in all walks of life” and that it was people like the authors of the document who threaten Israeli democracy “by working to make Jewish-Palestinian cooperation impossible.” 6. On the idea of “territorial reciprocity”—that the Palestinians be compensated for any territorial attrition within the West Bank by an equal or commensurate area taken from less sensitive regions of pre-1967 Israel—see David Newman, “This New Pragmatism Is Welcome,” Jerusalem Post, February 21, 1997; see also his more extensive discussion, “ ‘The Crisis of Jewish Settlement’—The Territorial Politics of Exurbanization: Reflections on Twenty-five Years of Jewish Settlement in the West Bank,” Israel Affairs, vol. 3, no. 1 (Autumn 1996), pp. 61–85; especially p. 80, which pictures his map of possible territorial exchanges of Jewish and Arab settlement areas along the edges of the “green line.” 7. In 1997 the Palestine Authority’s justice minister, Freih Abu Medin, tabled legislation forbidding Israeli Arabs from selling Arab property to Israelis even within the bounds of Israel. Ha’aretz, May 28, 1997, p. 3.

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8. Juval Portugali, Implicate Relations (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic, 1993), chapter 8: “Adjami: The Arab Neighbourhood of Tel-Aviv,” pp. 142–155. An engaging ethnographic account of specific situations of friction, conflict, and cooperation in Upper Nazareth among Jewish and Arab residents is Dan Rabinowitz, Overlooking Nazareth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). 5. Borders and Security 1. At the time of King Hussein’s extended hospitalization in the United States for chemotherapy treatment in 1998, military expert Ze’ev Schiff openly voiced these concerns. In one column he wrote, “We must not forget that a substantial change for the worse in Jordan and the Hashemite rule may shake up the region and cause a 180-degree change in Israel’s strategic position.” “After Hussein and Arafat,” Ha’aretz, July 31, 1998. 2. Worth exploring is Arye Shalev’s extensive work, The West Bank: Line of Defense (New York and Tel Aviv: Praeger and Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, 1985). Notwithstanding that some of the viewpoints expressed there, such as the need for “a protracted period of transition,” are no longer operative in the current stage of negotiations positing a direct move to permanent status, the book retains much of its value as an indispensable starting point for a broader understanding of the military, security, and even psychological-perceptual implications of geographic and topographic considerations like height and distance. 3. In an act of self-criticism, Yoel Marcus, veteran Ha’aretz columnist and outspoken proponent of Israel’s withdrawal from the 1967 territories, was quick to pounce on India and Pakistan going nuclear to reinforce his argument. On June 2, 1998, he reasoned: “Now that we are faced with the prospect that Iraq and Iran might, in the very near future, join the nuclear club, our stubborn quibbling over one tiny percentage point of West Bank land with the argument that we are trying to protect Israeli citizens from shoulder-held rocket and Katyusha attacks seems more than just ridiculous—it is, in effect, playing Russian roulette with this country’s future.” Fellow columnist Akiva Eldar took the same “inside/outside” tack in “Security Is in the Eye of the Beholder” (Ha’aretz, May 27, 1998), faulting the government for claiming a withdrawal of two percentage points might jeopardize Israel’s security and insisting this acreage is in no way comparable to the security, diplomatic, and economic damage were the Oslo process suspended. He argued that Israel’s failure to withdraw promptly from all the territories, excluding, for the time being, settlements and security zones, “would make the streets of our cities infinitely more dangerous.” One only doubts whether Palestinian Authority decision makers came in for comparable criticism for “quibbling” over the same one to two percentage points. 4. This and the following quotes are taken from Ahmad S. Khalidi, “Security in a Final Middle East Settlement: Some Components of Palestinian National Security,” International Affairs, vol. 71, no. 1 (January 1995), pp. 1–18.

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5. Ze’ev Schiff, Security for Peace: Israel’s Minimal Security Requirements in Negotiations with the Palestinians, Policy Papers no. 15 (Washington, D.C.: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 1989). 6. Joseph Alpher, Settlements and Borders, Final Status Issues: IsraelPalestinians Study no. 3 (Tel-Aviv: Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, 1994). 7. Joseph Alpher, “Israel’s Security Concerns in the Peace Process,” International Affairs, vol. 70, no. 2 (April 1994), pp. 229–241. 8. A good example of the expansive, regionwide security perspective can be found in Efraim Inbar, “Israeli National Security, 1973–96” (pp. 62–81), in the vol. 555 (January 1998) issue of The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science devoted to “Israel in Transition.” 9. Shai Feldman and Abdullah Toukan, Bridging the Gap: A Future Security Architecture for the Middle East, Carnegie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflict (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 1997), provide useful essays on Israel’s security perceptions and its larger security environment and on Arab perceptions and security policies. One may assume it is not entirely coincidental that the Palestinian security plight is hardly mentioned, let alone seriously addressed by Toukan, a Jordanian with close ties to the royal Hashemite court. 10. Ha’aretz, on May 11, 1997, quoted Prime Minister Netanyahu as not being inplacably opposed to a Palestinian entity with many of the attributes of statehood on the condition, however, that it may not be militarized and that it waive any claim to a “strong” army or heavy weaponry. He added one further stipulation: Israel would resist creating a shared border between the Palestinian entity and the Jordanian kingdom that in the future might otherwise ease the way for suddenly shifting troops from the one to the other. 11. The IDF Central Command has been reported as drawing up detailed plans for various eventualities, including an order to reenter and retake the West Bank and its cities, prompted by widespread turmoil or threats to Jewish settlers and military installations and bases. Ha’aretz, May 22, 1997. 12. Mordechai Bar-On, Past Lessons and Future Logic: National Security Considerations for Peace Making in the Middle East—The Israeli Perspective, Center for International Development and Conflict Management Monograph Series Paper no. 1–94 (College Park: University of Maryland, 1994), p. 5. 13. Micha Bar-On, Red Lines in Israeli Deterrent Strategy (Tel Aviv: Ma’arachot, 1990), chapter 5. The Jordanian connection is also discussed in Aharon Klieman, “The Israel-Jordan Tacit Security Regime,” in Efraim Inbar, ed., Regional Security Regimes (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995), chapter 6, pp. 127–149. 14. Annex I: Protocol Concerning Redeployment and Security Arrangements, The Interim Agreement on Palestinian Autonomy (Jerusalem: Information Division, Israel Foreign Ministry, 1994), Article 14. 15. Primakov’s formulation is reported in the International Herald-Tribune, December 19, 1997.

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16. In the “spirit of Madrid” one finds an entire shelf of published conference proceedings generated by any number of private, academic and “track two” seminars devoted to Middle East security-related issues. At these meetings Egyptians, Israelis, Jordanians, Palestinians and other Arab delegates have exchanged views and tabled concrete proposals for mutual security enhancement ranging from crisis prevention centers to regional arms control. The joint publication, cited above, by Feldman and Toukan is merely one example of the potential for security collaboration; another is Efraim Karsh and Yezid Sayigh, “A Cooperative Approach to Arab-Israeli Security,” Survival, vol. 36, no. 1 (Spring 1994), pp. 114–125. Still another, more recent blueprint circulated by the Swedish-based SIPRI Institute is Peter Jonas’s Toward a Regional Security Regime for the Middle East: Issues and Options (Stockholm: Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, December 1998). 17. Barak made this point emphatically when speaking at a symposium on “The State of the Nation 1998,” held by Tel Aviv University’s Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies on January 13, 1998. Also quoted in Ha’aretz, January 14, 1998. 6. Fair Share: The Economics of Partition 1. Ha’aretz, August 18, 1998. 2. Addressing himself to this problem of thousands of new and expensive cars being transferred, totally unimpeded, to Palestinian areas, Ze’ev Schiff, in an editorial column entitled “Robbing the Country Blind,” nevertheless put vehicle theft into larger perspective. Writing in Ha’aretz on August 21, 1998, he insisted this had much broader security implications. “The border between Israel and the PA is porous, and Israel is not having much success in sealing it.” “The Palestinian vehicle thieves have proved and are continuing to prove each day,” he explained, “that individuals who have an expert knowledge of roads and paths can penetrate Israel, can reach targets deep inside Israeli territory, and can do whatever they damn well please, safely returning at night to the Palestinian territories.” 3. The Palestinian West Bank official responsible for security, Jibril Rajoub, laughingly welcomed the idea of Israel constructing a wall along the green line. Pronouncing himself all in favor of separation “between them and us,” he said, “Let them take the settlers inside their area and put up a barrier 200 meters high if they want.” Reuters, reprinted in Ha’aretz, August 18, 1998. 4. The four areas: north of Jenin, the southern Sharon, the Jerusalem corridor, southwest of Hebron. Details of this Interior Security Ministry antitheft initiative were reported in Ha’aretz, August 18, 1998. 5. Maariv, August 21, 1998. 6. Figures compiled by the Mass Research Institute on Palestinian Economic Policies in its semiannual Economic Monitor survey and cited in Ha’aretz, November 14, 1997. 7. State of Israel, Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs, Department of Inter-

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national Relations, Labor and Employment in Judea, Samaria and the Gaza District (Jerusalem: Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs, March 1996), pp. 17–18. 8. Osama A. Hamed and Radwan A. Shaban, “One-Sided Customs and Monetary Union: The Case of the West Bank and Gaza Strip Under Israeli Occupation,” in Stanley Fischer, Dani Rodrik, and Elias Tuma, eds., The Economics of Middle East Peace: Views from the Region (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1993), p. 124. Simcha Bahiri and Samir Huleileh, with Daniel Gavron, Peace Pays: Palestinians, Israelis, and the Regional Economy (Jerusalem: Israel/Palestine Center for Research and Information, 1993), pp. 39–40. Also see Ephraim Kleiman, “Some Basic Problems of the Economic Relationships Between Israel and the West Bank and Gaza,” in Fischer, Rodrik, and Tuma, The Economics of Middle East Peace, pp. 307–8. 9. Bahiri and Huleileh, Peace Pays, p. 40. 10. United Nations Conference on Trade and Development, Palestinian External Trade Under Israeli Occupation (New York: United Nations, 1989), p. 79. 11. Bahiri and Huleileh, Peace Pays, pp. 44–45. 12. Kleiman, “Some Basic Problems,” p. 312. 13. Bahiri and Huleileh, Peace Pays, pp. 45–46. 14. “Protocol on Economic Relations Between the Government of the State of Israel and the PLO, Representing the Palestinian People” (Jerusalem: Israel Foreign Ministry, Information Division, 1994), p. 1. 15. Ibid. See, in addition, “Israel-PLO Protocol on Economic Relations: Summary of Main Points,” communicated by the Finance Ministry spokesman (Jerusalem: Israel Foreign Ministry, Information Division, 1994). 16. Bahiri and Huleileh, Peace Pays, pp. 60–63. 17. Hisham Awartani, “Palestinian-Israeli Economic Relations: Is Cooperation Possible?” in Fischer, Rodrik, and Tuma, The Economics of Middle East Peace, p. 301. 18. This upbeat, sky-is-the-limit economic philosophy is best mirrored in such works a Shimon Peres, with Arye Naor, The New Middle East (New York: Henry Holt, 1993), especially chapter 6, “From an Economy of Strife to an Economy of Peace,” pp. 87–99. 19. See “Prospects for Sustained Development of the Palestinian Economy in the West Bank and Gaza Strip, 1990–2010: A Quantitative Framework,” United Nations Conference on Trade and Development ECDC/SEU/6 (1994), p. 34. 20. A useful place to begin for background reading is Alwyn R. Rouyer, “The Water Issue in the Palestinian-Israeli Peace Process,” Survival, vol. 39, no. 2 (Summer 1997), pp. 57–81. 21. Peter Gleick, ed., Water in Crisis: A Guide to the World’s Fresh Water Resources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 147. 22. Stephan Libiszweski, Water Disputes in the Jordan Basin Region and Their Role in the Resolution of the Arab-Israeli Conflict, ENCOP Occasional

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Paper no. 13 (Zurich: Center for Security Policy and Conflict Research, 1995), chapter 3. 23. Ibid., chapter 2. 24. Ibid., chapter 1. 25. See Joel Zinger, The West Bank and Gaza Strip: Phase Two (Jerusalem: Information Division, Israel Foreign Ministry, 1995), p. 11. 26. See Joseph Alpher, Settlements and Borders, Final Status Issues: Israel-Palestinians Study no. 3 (Tel Aviv: Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, 1995), p. 37. 27. Sharon’s enlightened view of water as a humanitarian need and seeming disavowal of hard partition nevertheless did not prevent him in the next breath from charging the Palestinians with using Arab water distress “as another excuse to suspend the process and the talks, and of sharing culpability with the heat wave, due to their, the Palestinians’ own ‘deficient methods.’ ” Amira Hess, “Sharon Says PA Excuses All Wet,” Ha’aretz, August 19, 1998. 28. Elisha Kali, Options for Solving the Water Shortage Problem in Judea, Samaria, and the Gaza Strip Under Conditions of a Regional Peace [Hebrew] (Tel Aviv: Multidisciplinary Center for Technological Prediction and Analysis, Tel Aviv University, 1978). 29. An early exponent of regionalism applied to understanding the emerging salience of water is Joyce R. Starr, “Water Wars,” Foreign Policy, no. 82 (Spring 1991), pp. 17–36. A similar regional perspective is applied in the collection of articles published in 1997 as a special issue of Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, vol. 20, no. 1, on “Water Conflict, Part One: The Middle East.” Mary E. Morris’s opening essay, “Water and Conflict in the Middle East: Threats and Opportunities,” pp. 1–14, is particularly relevant in setting forth the severity of the water crisis from this regional point of view. 30. For Peres’s analysis of the larger water problem and regional solutions for it, see his chapter 9 on “The Living Waters,” in Peres, The New Middle East. 7. Jerusalem 1. The established pattern of contravening building codes and the techniques used by city hall in documenting these violations were reported by Ha’aretz on March 13, 1998. 2. Law and Administration Ordinance (Amendment 11), in Ruth Lapidot, “Jerusalem and the Peace Process,” Israel Law Review, vol. 28, nos. 2–3 (SpringSummer 1994). 3. Basic Law: Jerusalem Capital of Israel (1980) (Jerusalem: Israel Foreign Ministry, Information Division, 1995). 4. Ira Sharkansky, Governing Jerusalem: Again on the World’s Agenda (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1996), p. 80. 5. Maya Choshen and Naama Shahar, eds., Statistical Yearbook of Jerusalem (Jerusalem: Municipality of Jerusalem and Jerusalem Institute for Israel Studies, 1997), p. 30.

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6. Over the last thirty years Jerusalem has generated countless studies and even more blueprints. One of the more recent and down-to-earth plans for strategically and comprehensively dealing with the multilayered problems involved in implementing the formula of close-proximity coexistence is a paper drawn up by the influential Jerusalem Institute for Israel Studies. Widely circulated among senior officials, the paper called for a major reorganization of the city’s municipal structure, for example. This would involve rezoning and dividing Jerusalem into twenty-nine communities (nine in the Arab sector, seven for the ultra-Orthodox, and thirteen in the remaining Jewish areas), each electing a council to represent it in dealing with the municipality, to establish policy guidelines on important citywide issues, and to provide community services. Outlines of the ambitious plan are provided in Ha’aretz, March 23, 1998. 7. Cecilia Albin, “Negotiating Intractable Conflicts: On the Future of Jerusalem,” Cooperation and Conflict, vol. 32, no. 1 (March 1977), p.64. 8. Chad F. Emmett, “The Status Quo Solution for Jerusalem,” Journal of Palestine Studies, vol. 26, no. 2 (Winter 1977), pp. 16–28. 9. King Hussein made his observation in an interview published in NPQ. He elaborated further: Jerusalem, he felt, “belongs to all the descendants of the children of Abraham—Muslims, Jews and Christians. It must become a symbol of peace. A point of light for the whole world.” NPQ (Winter 1997), p. 59. 10. Faisal Husseini’s remarks to the Arab daily al-Quds al-Arabi were then reported by Ha’aretz reporter Nadav Shragai, June 17, 1998, under the headline “Husseini Envisions Jerusalem as One City with Two Capitals.” 11. The meaning of “functional,” “joint,” and “qualified” sovereignty, as set out by the Jerusalem Institute for Israel Studies in its master plan, is discussed by Nadav Shragai in his report, “Think Tank Has New Ideas for Jerusalem Sovereignty,” Ha’aretz, April 5, 1998. 8. The Elusive Middle Ground 1. Yehoshafat Harkabi, “The Last Reminiscence,” interview of January 14, 1994, Israel Studies, vol. 1, no. 1 (Spring 1996), p. 192. 2. The turnover of authority from Israeli to Palestinian hands has been multiphased and contentious at every step of the way. In phase 1 self-rule was restricted to most of the Gaza Strip and to the city of Jericho. Subsequently, a plan was agreed upon for dividing the West Bank into three zones: A, B, and C. Zone A, while comparatively small in terms of territorial expanse, contains the major Arab cities with the largest concentration of Arab residents and is under exclusive PA civilian and security control. The second sector, Zone B, were those towns and villages where the Palestinians would be responsible for maintaining public order and Israel’s authority limited to assuring overall security. Zone C consists of Israeli settlements, uninhabited land, and military areas where Israel retains exclusive control. Only in September 1995, after more than eighty hours of intense bargaining that necessitated direct involvement by both Foreign Minister Peres and Chair-

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man Yassir Arafat, was agreement reached at Taba for an Israeli army withdrawal from the main population areas of the West Bank—Jenin, Nablus, Tulkarem, Kalkiliya, Ramallah, Bethlehem—with security entrusted to 12,500 Palestinian police. As part of the package deal, a compromise was also hammered out for the city of Hebron whereby it too would be subdivided into three zones: one patrolled by Israel, a second jointly, the third by Palestinians. At Taba the Palestinians had expected Areas A and B to consist of about 40 percent of the West Bank. Israel, however, was unwilling so early in the interim phase of the peace negotiations to trade its remaining land assets. As a result, A and B together amounted to 27 percent, of which wholly Palestinian land came to only 3 percent. Nor was there any real contiguity between the Palestinian areas, leaving journalist Connie Bruck to portray a scene of “disconnected islands of brown and yellow in a sea of white.” “The Wounds of Peace,” New Yorker, October 14, 1996, p. 78. The next step in the Israeli recessional did not take place until March 1997, whereby the government of Benjamin Netanyahu, after prolonged debate, announced the transfer of an additional 9.1 percent of the West Bank to either partial or total PA control. Except that the announcement produced more rancor than reassurance. In what can only be seen as a ringing testimony to the unconstructive effect of diplomatic ambiguity, it is true that in the follow-up to Oslo Israel had pledged itself to three further “redeployments” before reaching the final status phase. For their part the Palestinians interpreted this commitment by Israel as implying withdrawal each time from one-third of the occupied territories. But the IsraeliPalestinian negotiations had left the determination to Israel alone as to exactly how much land was to be yielded in each of the three stages. Consequently, while American officials expressed the hope Jerusalem would present a credible double-digit figure, Netanyahu’s disappointingly low figure of less than 10 percent was compounded by the fact that most of the designated areas were drawn from Area B rather than C. Which meant in effect that Area A only grew to 10.02 percent, leaving Israel at the end of 1997 still in effective control of 71 percent of the West Bank. Arafat charged the Netanyahu Government with “a big deceit operation.” IHT, March 8–9, 1997. 3. When Hamas leader Sheikh Ahmad Yassin, released after eight years in Israeli prisons, volunteered that were Israel to withdraw completely from the West Bank and Gaza Strip, and remove all its settlements, he would consider a truce but not permanent reconciliation, his words were interpreted in the foreign press as seeming to chart “a cautious political course,” and the sheikh himself touted as a possible “force for moderation.” Joel Greenberg, “Freed Hamas Leader Suggests Terms for Truce with Israel,” New York Times, October 8, 1997. 4. Laura Zittrain Eisenberg and Neil Caplan, Negotiating Arab-Israel Peace: Patterns, Problems, Possibilities (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1998), p. 129.

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5. As Moshe Dayan was forced to admit years ago: “I’ve never been able to draw a line through the West Bank that would be secure for Israel and politically acceptable to the Arabs.” Harold H. Saunders, “Reconstituting The Arab-Israeli Peace Process,” in William B. Quandt, ed., The Middle East: Ten Years After Camp David (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution, 1988). p. 429. 6. Thomas L. Friedman, “To Get to Camp David, They Have to Earn the Costly Tickets.” IHT, April 11, 1997. 7. Ha’aretz, February 21, 1997. An expanded Jordan Valley salient under direct Israeli control accounted for a considerable percentage. A comparable design—73 percent in Israel’s possession, 27 percent in Palestinian hands—was tabled by Israeli geographer Chaim Gewirtzman in his study of redeployment possibilities, Mapat Ha’interesim Ha’Yisraelim BeYehuda v’Shomron [A Map of Israeli Interests in Judea and Samaria], published by the BESA Center for Strategic Studies (Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University, July 1997). 8. Ma’ariv, July 3, 1997. Sharon’s Knesset speech followed his secret meeting with Palestinian negotiator Abu Mazin for the first time. His formulated territorial compromise is noteworthy in light of Ariel Sharon’s traditionally hawkish and uncompromising stand on the future of the West Bank. 9. Even earlier, in November 1996, Netanyahu confided at a meeting with ambassadors resident in Israel that he personally could live with a political solution whereby the Palestinians lived in an entity modeled along the lines of Puerto Rico or Andorra. His ideas were reported in Ha’aretz, November 8, 1996. 10. For the unofficial map and analyses by Ze’ev Schiff, see Ha’aretz, May 29, 1997, and June 6, 1997. Almost immediately, Netanyahu and government spokesmen sought to draw attention away from the territorial concessions by underscoring instead the political side of the equation. Namely, by stressing what the Palestinian self-governing but nonstate entity would not be entitled to, such as treaty-making powers, any large standing army, or alliances with radical regimes like Iran and Iraq. Nevertheless, undeflected, people like Charles Krauthammer, commenting on “Netanyahu’s Map” in the Washington Post edition of June 13, 1997, properly noted, “The battle lines have, literally, been drawn.” Among sections meant to pass from Israeli rule to outright Israeli sovereignty are the principal aquifers, columns of territory along the existing western and eastern boundaries with Israel and Jordan respectively, and a corridor from Jerusalem to the Jordan River. Whereas, should Netanyahu have his way, the Palestinians would obtain three or four enclaves amounting to a patchwork of roughly 40 percent of West Bank lands drawn in such a manner as to encompass nearly all of the Palestinian population. As pictured by one analyst, this entity in effect would be sandwiched between Israel and Jordan, denied any shared border with Jordan, and sliced by four eastwest roadways under Israeli army control. Barton Gellman, “Netanyahu Proposition: West Bank Partition,” Washington Post, June 16, 1997. Or as Thomas

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Friedman cites a nameless Israeli diplomat: “Bibi’s map keeps virtually all the settlements, all security and water, all of Jerusalem, and chops up the Palestinian state into unconnected blocks, cut off from both Gaza and Jordan.” New York Times, June 17, 1997. To which the diplomat added: “That’s a territorial compromise the Likud can accept.” 11. New York Times, June 17, 1997. 12. See Schiff’s commentary, “Mapa l’Yisraelim Bilvad” [A Map for Israelis Alone], Ha’aretz, May 30, 1997. 13. Barton Gellman, “Netanyahu Proposition: West Bank Partition,” Washington Post, June 16, 1997. 14. In this second, more expansive version, territorial compromise would keep 98 settlements (81 percent) inside Israel, and a settler population of nearly 110,000 (91 percent). The Efrat-Katz map was first detailed and given national coverage by Akiva Eldar, Ha’aretz, December 2, 1996. Efrat, a professional geographer at Haifa University, went public with his own revised plan shortly thereafter. Ha’aretz, January 7, 1997. 15. Joseph Alpher, Settlements and Borders, Final Status Issues: IsraelPalestinians Study no. 3 (Tel Aviv: Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, 1994). His Plan B for moderate territorial compromise is set forth on pp. 36–41. Deputy director at the time of the prestigious Center for Strategic Studies at Tel Aviv University, and identifying politically with the left-of-center Meretz party then headed by Shulamit Aloni and Yossi Sarid, Alpher’s monograph gained wide circulation within the policy establishment and has served since as the basis for other modified versions. 16. New Republic, “Toward True Peace,” February 3, 1997. 17. That the widely reported sharp divergence between Sharon and Mordechai might be a serious misreading is pointed out by David Makovsky in his take on the Netanyahu government’s line of reasoning. Ha’aretz, January 11 and 20, 1998. In fact, the government debate over the amount of land to be either retained perpetuum or yielded to Palestinian control had a hidden subtext. Underlying the first tier of how much to cede through phased redeployment (single-digit versus double-digit pullbacks), and also the precise timetable, was the second tier of which areas to withdraw from—A, B, or C? Yet a third-tier cause for Israeli-Palestinian and Israel-American differences of opinion took the areas question a step further in the controversy over whether lands turned over by Israel in Area C would immediately go from C to A status, meaning completely under Palestinian control, or only indefinitely from C to B, leaving Israel with security control and the Palestinians with nominal sovereignty. A further complication were fundamental three-sided differences with regard to whether Israel’s pledge to redeploy could be honored through a single pullback followed by final status negotiations, two moves and final status, or a full three “pulses” as stipulated in the earlier accords and as demanded by the Palestinian side.

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18. The idea behind the Area D and “10 + 3” formulas was to turn over 10 percent of Area B to Palestinian civil control. The further 3 percent needed to meet Palestinian and American definitions of a substantial pullback would have special interim status, marked by: a nature preserve drawn from arid land to the east of Hebron, the Palestinian police made responsible for maintaining public order, though construction, planning, zoning, and security restrictions would be levied on the PA. In other words, this new Area D would have many of the attributes of Area B though not explicit consent by Israel that these 3 percent would eventually be turned over to exclusive Palestinian control or sovereignty in the permanent status agreement. The Israeli offer is analyzed by Ha’aretz diplomatic correspondent David Makovsky in the newspaper’s August 20, 1998, edition. 19. Geoffrey Aronson, “Israelis Debate Plans Outlining Options for Final Status,” in Report on Israeli Settlement in the Occupied Territories: A Bimonthly Publication of the Foundation for Middle East Peace, vol. 8, no. 1 (JanuaryFebruary 1998), p. 4. 20. This controversy in late 1998 over highlands versus desert pitted the Yesha Council of Settlements against one of its otherwise pro-settlement, antitotal withdrawal allies, the Third Way party, with the former arguing for a minimal withdrawal even if this involved handing over parts of the Judean Desert and the Jordan Rift Valley in order to patch together a 13 percent redeployment. Third Way leaders, for their part, insisted the pullback not include any part of the Judean Desert, even were this to affect the settlers around Mount Hebron and elsewhere. Reflecting on what he saw as a “tragic dilemma” between two values, MK Alex Lubotzky insisted the Third Way sought to ensure the greatest amount possible of the Land of Israel be brought under Israeli sovereignty. Ha’aretz, July 28 and August 7, 1998. 21. The quote is from Walid Khalidi, “Revisiting the UNGA Partition Resolution,” Journal of Palestine Studies, vol. 27, no. 1 (Autumn 1997), p. 17. 22. Danny Rubenstein, “He Brought No Maps,” Ha’aretz, January 23, 1998. 23. Sha’th is quoted in Heller, “Toward a Palestinian State,” p. 19. 24. Darwish’s comments appear in an interview with him that appeared in the Ha’aretz weekly magazine of June 5, 1998. 25. This extensive interview with Bishara as well was conducted by Ha’aretz and is published as a feature story, “Citizen Azmi,” in its weekend magazine of May 29, 1998. 26. Sheikh Yassin’s words were carried by the New York Times on October 24, 1997, “Frail Hamas Leader Vents Fury But Masks His Intent.” 27. This prophecy by the Sheikh was made in Damascus and reported by the New York Times, June 25, 1998. 28. The institute’s findings, based on a fairly large sampling of 1,152 interviewees, were printed by Dani Rubenstein, Palestinian affairs reporter for Ha’aretz, on December 1, 1996. 29. The Palestinian writer Anton Shammas has been described as mourning for a lost homeland, “a construct of nostalgia, a territory without a map.” Fouad

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Ajami, “The Arab Inheritance,” Foreign Affairs, vol. 76, no. 5 (September/ October 1997), p. 147. 30. Khalil Shikaki, “Peace Now or Hamas Later,” Foreign Affairs, vol. 77, no. 4 (July/August 1998), p. 36. 31. Israeli tolerance for imprecision during the entire course of the Oslo negotiations is matched on the part of Palestinian spokesmen, part of whose calculus might very well be the ability it affords them to defer their own most sensitive and potentially divisive question. Which is, whether—and at what optimal point—finally and genuinely to embrace the partitionist platform of dividing and sharing land, including the West Bank, with the Zionist foe. 32. Burhan Dajani, “An Alternative to Oslo?” Journal of Palestine Studies, vol. 25, no. 4 (Summer 1996), p. 12. Dajani, a Palestinian economist living in Jordan, answers his own question by eschewing partition in favor of a reunified Palestine with equal citizenship for all and a return of the Palestinians to their homeland, in effect dismissing any resolutions adopted by the Palestine National Council in recent years that even implicitly hint at territorial compromise. 33. Khouri’s column appeared in Hebrew translation in Ha’aretz, April 10, 1997. 34. Khalil Shikaki, “Reflections on the Peace Process and a Durable Settlement,” Journal of Palestine Studies, vol. 26, no. 1 (issue 101), (Autumn 1996), p. 25. Elaborating further, he offers a vision ostensibly based on soft separation— but separation nevertheless—allowing for porous borders, access of each side to its “historical” land, some mixed Jewish-Palestinian neighborhoods, joint economic ventures, and mutually acceptable security arrangements (p. 26). It immediately becomes apparent, however, that what Shikaki is really calling for is not partition, or even a two-state formula, but really a binational state granting equal political rights, “including the right to return,” to all its citizens—an idea all too readily similar to the earlier PLO slogan of a single “secular, democratic state.” 35. A. S. Khalidi, “On the Drawing Board, a Blueprint of Palestine,” an oped piece appearing in IHT, February 12, 1997. Well-placed as editor of the Journal of Palestine Studies, the author also was an adviser to the Palestinian delegates at the 1991–1993 Mideast talks. 36. Shlomo Gazit, “Israel and the Palestinians: Fifty Years of Wars and Turning Points,” The Annals, vol. 555 (January 1998), p. 84. Gazit’s statement, incidentally, is no longer valid, since the opening of the final round of map negotiations finds the Palestine Authority and embryonic Palestinian state already possessing substantial and precedent-setting portions of land finally “liberated” from Israeli occupation and control. 37. Naomi Weinberger, “Role Reversal Over Partition: 1948 and 1998,” an electronic essay appearing in MERIA [Middle East Review of International Affairs], vol. 2, no. 2 (May 1998), an Internet service of the Bar-Ilan University’s BESA Center for Strategic Studies.

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38. At one point in discussions over the next promised Israeli troop pullback, in December 1997, Prime Minister Netanyahu seemed ready to offer a further 6–8 percent of the West Bank, in contrast to Palestinian demands for up to 30 percent. U.S. officials were then said to be aiming at a double-digit figure of 14–16 percent, splitting the difference right down the middle. Reported in the IHT, “Albright Leans on Palestinians and Israelis,” December 9, 1997. 39. Yosef Gorny, Zionism and the Arabs, 1882–1948: A Study of Ideology (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987). p. 323. 9. Safe Passages 1. Parliamentary Debates (Lords), Fifth Session, 106 (July 20, 1937). 2. Findings by the State Comptroller’s Office are reported in Ha’aretz, May 6, 1998. 3. In disclosing secret discussions over several months between an Israeli interdepartmental team and Palestinian Authority representatives devoted largely if not solely to the safe passage sticking point (in itself an admission by both sides of how seriously they take it and how wide apart their respective interpretations), Ha’aretz military correspondent Eitan Rabin reported the Israeli position insisted upon all its laws being applicable while the Palestinians were prepared to accept only Israeli traffic law. Ha’aretz, May 6, 1997. 4. Items of contention revolving around the safe passages agenda item and cost estimates are reported by Maariv in its Friday weekend magazine supplement of June 12, 1998. 5. Ha’aretz, February 26, 1998. 6. The 90 percent figures are cited by Arie Caspi in his article, “Down and Out in the Territories,” Ha’aretz, July 10, 1998. 7. “Trucks from Gaza to Get Homing Devices,” Ha’aretz, January 4, 1998. In laying out its proposal, the Israel Ports Authority volunteered that in 1996 a total of 40,451 such trucks traversed the Karni passage alone. 8. The new measures and their attendant implications are reported in Ha’aretz, August 13, 1998. 9. The only in-depth study of what the failure to negotiate a comprehensive safe passage protocol has meant for Gazans and West Bankers was published by B’tselem: The Israeli Information Center for Human Rights in the Occupied Territories in its fact sheet of May 1998. Entitled Hafred u’mshol (Divide and Rule), the twenty-nine-page pamphlet describes the human condition stemming from blocked passage between the two territorial extremities. 10. Details of the Gush Katif closure crisis in Ha’aretz, July 3 and 5, 1998. 11. “Doctors Protest Infant Deaths in Closure,” Ha’aretz, August 31, 1998. 12. Amira Hass, “It’s a Long Way to Bir Zeit,” Ha’aretz, August 19, 1998. 13. In 1996 PA minister of social affairs Intisar al-Wazir (“Uum Jihad”) was caught illegally giving a lift to the student brother of a Hamas activist, an act prohibited by the special laissez passer terms for special passage.

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14. Dalia Shehor, “No Sure Proof Wanted Men Fly in PA’s Copter,” Ha’aretz, May 19, 1998. 15. Yediot Achronot, July 2, 1997. 16. Netanyahu’s 9 percent second redeployment sketch was leaked to Ha’aretz on April 28, 1998, and is further commented upon in the Foundation for Middle East Peace’s bimonthly Report on Israeli Settlement in the Occupied Territories of May-June 1998. An excellent insight into what he calls “the pullback numbers game” is David Makovsky’s “What Does It All Mean?” which appeared in Ha’aretz on May 21, 1998. Makovsky drew heavily upon the research of Hebrew University hydrologist Dr. Haim Gvirtzman. 17. Reconstructed from the April 8, 1998 Maariv report of the Daily Telegraph interview, which also cited Israeli engineering feasibility experts who pointed to comparably long bridges in New Orleans and in the Florida Keys, for example. 18. Ha’aretz, December 18, 1997. 19. Ha’aretz, July 16, 1998. 20. In seeking an arrangement other than annexation of the Jordan River salient by Israel or its permanent presence there, Joseph Alpher reasons that “an Israeli military force deployed in the Jordan Valley without a direct link to the border with Israel is liable in an emergency to be cut off and besieged, thereby generating more military problems than it could ever solve.” Settlements and Borders, Final Status Issues: Israel-Palestinians Study no. 3 (Tel Aviv: Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, 1994), p. 26. 21. As part of the outlines for his personalized peace map Prime Minister Netanyahu reportedly was willing to accept the Oslo provision for safe passage and to sanction no more than three corridors linking Gazans to Tulkarem, Kalkiliya, and Jericho. But in return, and by way of reciprocity, he would demand four Israeli land routes splicing the West Bank from west to east and reaching as far as the Jordan Valley. An unauthorized and therefore unconfirmed sketch of the Netanyahu map was printed in Ha’aretz’s edition of May 29, 1997, and is reproduced in the Washington Post (June 16, 1997). The sketch did not indicate, however, whether any of the Palestinian passages would then be permitted to continue uninterrupted westward across Israel, finally terminating in the Gaza Strip. 22. Professor Sofer’s proposed map was published on January 7, 1997 by Ha’aretz. 23. The analogy with Bosnia was drawn by Maariv, December 18, 1997. 24. The tunnels “bridging” proposal was apparently conveyed to the United States by Israeli minister Ariel Sharon in talks with U.S. national security adviser Sandy Berger in early November 1997 and duly reported by David Makovsky, diplomatic correspondent for Ha’aretz, November 28, 1997. 25. The alternative Mordechai-Sharon map designs and conceptions of Israel’s national and security interests, including the roads question, are outlined by Ha’aretz reporters David Makovsky and Nadav Shragai in Ha’aretz, December 15, 1997.

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26. David Makovsky, “Israel Agrees the 3 Percent Can Be Contiguous,” Ha’aretz, July 27, 1998. 27. Having both Israeli and Palestinian best interests at heart, in December 1997 the Peace Now movement demanded the Israeli government transfer 50 percent of the West Bank to the Palestinians, even before the final status agreement, and turn Area B, divided at the time into no less than 190 separate “islands,” into a contiguous Palestinian territory. The reasoning given for such a proposal was that “connecting Area B to a contiguous expanse will allow Israel to make logical and realistic claims regarding the Palestinian fight against violence and terror organizations.” The proposal and the logic behind it are spelled out in Ha’aretz, December 3, 1997. 28. Moshe Arens, “Skipping a Beat,” Jerusalem Post, December 5, 1997. His categorical statement was countered and offset by assurances from fellow Likud Party ministers Netanyahu, Mordechai, and Sharon that the cabinet was mindful of the contiguity dilemma and would draw Israel’s territorial demands in such a way as as to leave the Palestinians with extensive contiguous areas. 10. Toward a Negotiated Territorial Compromise 1. Thomas L. Friedman, “A Delicate Balance,” New York Times, June 30, 1998. 2. Gwyn Rowley, for example, argues that any understanding of Zionist and Israeli settlement policy must be based on a deeper appreciation of “the fundamental Hebrew system of beliefs in which land, the Promised Land, plays a central and crucial role.” “The Land in Israel,” in A. D. Burnett and P. J. Taylor, eds., Political Studies from Spatial Perspectives (New York: Wiley, 1981), p. 443. The same thesis can be found in the literature on Palestinian Arab attachment to the land. 3. In The Analysis of International Relations (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1968), pp. 116–117, Karl W. Deutsch reasons that the safest, most prudent strategy for players in irreconcilable conflict game situations is to choose either “the best of the worst” or “the worst of the best” of all possible outcomes. As a result there will arise at least one “saddle point” at which “the minimum of one player’s maxima and the maximum of his adversary’s minima coincide,” thus facilitating one or several stable solutions resembling in some ways “an automatic equivalent of compromise.” 4. “Netanyahu Broadens Land Claim,” International Herald-Tribune, December 23, 1997. 5. Mashaal’s candid remarks derive from the October 9, 1997 transcript of his interview in NPQ: The New Perspectives Quarterly (Fall 1997), p. 44. 6. Mark A. Heller, “Toward a Palestinian State,” Survival, vol. 39, no. 2 (Summer 1997), pp. 5–22. His “preferred option” is to leave a Palestinian state in “most of the West Bank” and “with limitations on the exercise of Palestinian sovereignty,” p. 18.

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An early supporter of Palestinian statehood, the evolution in his thinking can be traced through his earlier work: Mark A. Heller, A Palestinian State: The Implications for Israel (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983); and Mark A. Heller and Sari Nusseibeh, No Trumpets, No Drums: A Two-State Settlement of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict (New York: Hill and Wang, 1991). The reader will note that the differences are relatively minor between Alpher and Heller, former close colleagues for a number of years at the Jaffee Center think tank and both articulate members of a circle of Israeli political doves comprised of retired generals, former intelligence personnel, and security-oriented academics. 7. Heller, “Toward a Palestinian State,” p. 17. 8. In Heller’s version Israel would need to retain the Jordan Valley as a “forward-defense line” in anticipating plausible war contingencies and to maintain early warning as well as air- and missile-defense installations on the eastern side of the north-south mountain ridge running down the center of the West Bank. 9. An unauthorized Hebrew text of the “blueprint for a peace accord” was offered by Ze’ev Schiff in Ha’aretz on February 22, 1996. An English version of the main points of the understanding can be found in the Journal of Palestine Studies, vol. 26, no. 1 (issue 101) (Autumn 1996), p. 149. Two interpretations of the document’s larger importance are offered by Daniel Sobelman in Ha’aretz, May 29, 1997, and by Heller in his previously cited article, “Toward a Palestinian State,” pp. 18–19. Fairly detailed boundary maps were apparently appended to the draft but not circulated. Beilin himself extensively covers the post-Oslo secret attempt at going beyond interim status to tackling the permanent status agenda in a recent book: Yossi Beilin, Lagaat b’Shalom (Touching Peace) (TelAviv: Miskal-Yediot Ahronoth and Chemed, 1997). 10. Asfour’s interpretation appears in an interview with Ma’ariv’s Oded Granott, October 11, 1996. 11. Further amplifications later supplied on the record by a member of the Beilin discussion group, Dr. Yair Hirschfeld, suggest that the Israeli negotiators gave their consent to extraterritorial status for the Temple Mount, with a Palestinian flag and free access, as well as responsibility for the Church of the Sepulchre bestowed upon the Palestinian Authority. Hirschfeld’s interpretation was first printed as an interview in the Israeli settler publication, Nekuda (July 1996), and then republished in English translation by the Journal of Palestine Studies, vol. 26, no. 1 (issue 101) (Autumn 1996), pp. 150–151. 12. Quoted in an interview, “From the Architect of Oslo: A Way Out of the Deadlock,” NPQ: The New Perspectives Quarterly (Fall 1997), p. 43. 13. Support for the option of an Israeli pullback parallel with final peace talks came from a U.S. initiative, a copy of which was obtained by Ha’aretz and first published on June 4, 1998. One of its suggestions called for a tightened-up timetable, enabling talks on the opening of final status to begin at the start of a twelve-week, three-phased pullback. 14. French leaders, for example, noting France had always looked positively

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upon the establishment of an independent Palestinian state, let it be known that France would recognize the Palestinian state as soon as it was declared. At least thirteen of the fifteen EU members were counted upon to follow suit. In 1988 dozens of third world countries recognized the Algiers declaration of independence. Ha’aretz, July 7, 1998. 15. Danny Rubenstein, “Arafat’s Last Asset—Statehood,” Ha’aretz, July 13, 1998. 16. Beilin continued to pursue his idea in discussions with American, Jordanian, and Palestinian officials. Ha’aretz, July 21, 1998. 17. Dan Margalit, “Sharon 1998 Is Dayan 1972,” Ha’aretz, March 2, 1998. 18. An observation offered by Thomas Friedman, himself an avowed supporter of a brokered peace settlement, in his New York Times column on June 17, 1997. 19. In Shimon Peres, with Robert Little, For the Future of Israel (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998), p. 124.

Index

Abbas, Mahmud (Abu Mazin), 227, 230 abd al-Shafi, Haidar, 232 Abdullah, King, 61, 152, 216 Abdullah II, 89 Abu Dis, 228 Acre, 73, 155 Africa, 34, 41 Agriculture, 72, 74, 121 Air flights, 201–2, 204, 207–8 Airport rights, 109–11 Airspace, 200, 241; Israeli control of, 109–11 Ajami, Fouad, 52 Ajami mosque, 155 Albright, Madeleine, 48, 175, 212, 222 Algiers resolution (1988), 93 All wars must end postulate, 3, 4, 21 Allegiances, multiple, 82–84 Allenby Bridge, 200, 206 Allon plan, 1, 168, 169f “Allon plus” plan, 163, 168, 212 Alpher, Joseph, 101–2, 103, 175, 227 Alpher blueprint, 170–73, 171f Amana, 167 Ambiguity, 7, 179; see also Constructive ambiguity Amman, 89, 127, 152, 205 Anderson, Benedict, 241 Antipartitionism, 85, 180, 182 Anti-Zionist hostility, 105

Arab-Israeli affairs, perceptions of, 186 Arab-Israeli conflict, 15, 19–21, 27, 60, 66, 69, 153; Jerusalem in, 137, 139; partition in, 30, 54; partitionism applied to, 41–42 Arab-Israeli peace, prescription for, 21 Arab-Israeli peacemaking: links between defense and economics in, 116; water resources in, 133–34 Arab League, 108 Arabs, 7, 17, 45, 52, 53–54, 223, 239, 243; and border crossings, 95; cultural autonomy of, 63, 76; and economic relations, 128–29; and Jerusalem, 141, 143; in Jerusalem, 144, 145, 146, 152, 154; in Jordan, 241; Palestinian, 73, 74, 75, 172; and partition, 50, 182, 183; see also Israeli Arabs Arafat, Yasir, 48, 51, 93, 100, 105, 109–11, 113, 127, 129, 145, 151, 168, 178–79, 180, 182, 227, 232, 259n2; criticism of leadership of, 183, 222; helicopters, 207–8; “Note for the Record,” 197; and partition, 186, 190; “trump card,” 231 Arava, 75 Arens, Moshe, 219 Ariel, 76, 79, 228 Aronson, Geoffrey, 177 Asfour, Hassan, 229

270

Index

Ashdod, 109 Attitudinal level, change at, 15, 33–34, 37–38 Autonomy, 27, 28–29, 53, 65; for Israeli Arabs, 82; Palestinian, 93, 104–5, 162; religious, 148 al-Azariyya, 228 Bad faith, 46, 141, 145, 209, 222 Balance of power, 30, 32, 90, 98 Balfour Declaration, 46–47, 221 Bangladesh, 28,217 Barak, Ehud, 114 Bargaining, 14, 37, 60, 176, 222, 231; see also Negotiation Basic Law: Jerusalem Capital of Israel, 143 Beersheba, 209 Begin, Menachem, 52, 53, 91 Beilin, Yossi, 7, 174, 175, 227, 229–30, 232 Beilin-Abu Mazin draft accord, 1, 227–30 Beit Shean valley, 75 Belgium, 30, 217 Ben-Gurion, David, 61, 152, 216, 225 Ben-Gurion International Airport, 102, 109, 206 Beyond Rhetoric: Perspectives on a Negotiated Settlement in Palestine, 179–80 Binationalism, 27, 28–29, 52, 53, 65, 183, 263n34 Bishara, M.K. Azmi, 82, 180 “Black September” reckoning, 241–42 Border checkpoints, 112, 202; incidents at, 205–8 Border crossings and controls, 93–95, 191, 200; closure of, 204; inspection procedures, 202, 203; Jordan River, 94f; security at, 209

Border lines: bargaining positions on, 113 Borders, 61, 64, 86, 183, 224, 239, 244; control over, 114; defensible, 87–88; final status, 76–79; natural versus defensible, 60; open/closed, 218; in peace accord, 228; in peace map, 223; in peace negotiations, 227; political and security, 63, 66; revising, 80–81; and security, 87–114; soft, 64 Bosnia, 4, 24, 25, 33, 34, 39, 70, 214, 217 Boutros Ghali, Boutros, 14 Breakthroughs, 11, 13; ambiguity and, 47; five steps to, 14–19 British Mandate, 70; Palestine and Transjordan under, 43f B’tselem report, 204 Bush, George, 60 Cairo, 127, 217 Cairo Agreement on the Gaza Strip and the Jericho Area, Article IX, 192, 193–94 Cairo protocol, 216, 230 Cairo “Safe Passages” Map (1994), 198f Camp David Accords, 143, 221 Car thefts, 118–19, 126, 191 Castlereagh, Lord, 113 Cease-fire lines (1967), 59f Center for Palestine Research and Studies (an-Najah University), 181 Center for Policy Analysis on Palestine, 179 Chazit Eretz Yisrael (Land of Israel Front), 79 Christians: and Jerusalem, 148, 149, 150 cis-Jordania, 62, 86 Clean cut, 1, 22, 29, 133, 190, 239 Clinton, William, 168, 175

Index 271 Clinton administration, 39 Coastal Aquifer, 132 Cognitive dissonance, 96 Committee for Road Safety (CRS), 212 Complexities, 5, 61, 129; in Jerusalem issue, 148, 149; in security problem, 97 Compromise, 2, 3, 4, 15, 25, 27, 40, 166; as concession, 223; costs in, 224; necessary to peace, 186; negotiating, 23; value of, 37, 225; see also Political compromise; Territorial compromise Concessions, 4, 15, 91; in Beilin-Abu Mazin draft accord, 228–29; see also Territorial concessions Condominium, 30, 242; religious, 150 Confederation construct, 242 Confidence-building measures, 15–16 Conflict resolution, 3, 12, 25, 31, 32, 34, 37, 42, 49, 177, 182, 223; incrementalist approach to, 19–20; international, 11; language in, 47; ripeness in, 11–14; theoretical literature on, 19, 21, 115; topographic realities and, 72–73 Constructive ambiguity, 3, 21, 61, 89, 224; deferred confrontation masked as, 90; end to, 46–49; regarding Jerusalem, 141; in safe passage, 189, 192, 200 Cooperation, 23; economic, 123–24, 125–28; in security, 114; “threetiered program of,” 52; willingness for, 242 Copts, 148 Core goals, redefining, 15 Corridors of power, 192–97 Cost-benefit analysis, 124–25 “Crusader” precedent, 241 Cultural autonomy, 63, 64 Cypress, 22, 25, 30, 31, 36, 206

Czech Republic, 28, 69 Czechoslovakia, 22, 23, 30, 38, 41, 61, 69, 81 Czechs, 33, 35, 36, 61, 119 Dahaniya airfield, 111, 201–2, 208, 216 Darwish, Mahmoud, 179 Dayan, Moshe, 53 Dayton accords, 33, 39, 217 Declaration of Principles (DOP), 123, 198 Declaration of Principles (DOP) on Interim Self-Government Arrangements, 192 Declaration of Partition Principles (DPP), 61, 63 Decolonization, 31 Defense, 91; and economics, 115–16 Defense treaties, 114, 115 Delegitimization, mutual, 151 Demilitarization, 63, 99, 101, 102–3, 104, 229, 232, 234 Demographic questions, 61, 64, 69–70, 171 Demography, 60, 70, 73–76, 86; mixed municipalities, 85; politics of, 74; and water shortage, 132, 133 Denuclearization, 103 Dependency, 41, 126; economic, 121; mutual, 123, 165, 243; in safe passage issue, 200, 212 Diplomacy, 12–13, 47, 49; processoriented, 19–20 Diplomatic breakthroughs, 197; steps to, 14–19, 20 Disengagement, 1, 84, 114, 244 Disintegration theories, 32, 37 Divide and Fall? (Kumar), 38–39 Divided societies, 249n31; applying partition to, 34–36 Dowty, Alan, 22

272

Index

Druckman, Daniel, 13 Dualism: in Jerusalem, 137–39, 155 Durability (criterion), 26, 42 Early warning stations, 91, 101, 108, 212 East Bank, 62, 70, 89, 90, 163, 241 East Bank-West Bank, federated, 52 East Jerusalem, 75, 170, 182 Eastern Aquifer, 132 Eban, Abba, 60, 61 Economic paradigm, collaborative, 123–25 Economic concerns, 6, 66, 116, 120, 135, 165, 239 Economic relations, 61, 120–21, 122–23; deferred gratification in, 128–29; obstacles in, 125–28 Economic union: with political partition, 117 Economic viability, 62, 64, 88, 189 Economics, postintifada, 121–23 Economics of partition, 115–35 Economy, intermingled, 120–21 Efrat, Elisha, 170 Egypt, 62, 93, 107, 182, 201, 205, 206, 217 Eitan, Michael, 174, 230 Enclaves, 183, 189–92 Entities, 189–92 Erez checkpoint, 207 Eretz Yisrael, 185 Eretz Yisrael/Filastin, 42, 52, 60 Eretz Yisrael hashlema, 84 Ethnic cleansing, 70, 239 Ethnic communities, 41, 69, 225 Ethnic conflict, 31, 35, 37, 69 Ethnic disentanglement, 21, 22 Ethnic groups/minorities, 29–30, 165 Ethnic segregation, 28, 36 Ethnicity, politics of, 31 Europe, aid from, 129

European community, 35, 183 European Union, 111 Exclusionism/exclusivity, 52, 62, 127 Exit strategy, 4, 18, 25; lack of, 7, 14; partition as, 42; territorial compromise, 21–24 Expected utility models, 32–33 External reinforcement (Palestinian), 99–100 Fabian, Larry, 54 Fair share partitionism principle, 72–73 Fearon, James D., 13 Federalism, 27, 28–29, 51–52, 53, 65 Filastin, 42, 52, 60, 179 Final status, 3, 25; prescriptions for, 226–27 Final status accords, 76 Final status negotiations/talks, 49, 87, 117; contentious principles in, 189; Israel’s strength in, 172; Jerusalem in, 138; security problem in, 96–97, 101; water problem in, 130 Final status settlement, 14, 27, 141; land in, 167; transit rights in, 112 Foundation for Middle East Peace, 177 Free and safe passage, 174; see also Safe passages Freedom of movement, 111, 192, 200, 215, 216–17, 218; international legal principles of, 217; restrictions on, 204 Friedman, Thomas, 166, 168, 222, 235 Fuller, Graham, 34 Galilee, 72, 73, 75, 84; holy places in, 155 Game theory, 225 Gazit, Shlomo, 184

Index 273 Gaza (city), 91, 162, 192, 200, 210; seaport at, 111, 216 Gazan-Egyptian frontier, 107, 109 Gaza-Jericho Agreement, 95 “Gaza-Jericho first” strategy, 139, 190 Gaza Maritime Zone, Proposed, 110f Gaza Strip, 70, 72, 73, 74, 91, 93–95; authority over, 231; economic development, 128; key economic indicators, 120t; occupation and administration of, 120–21; Palestinians in, 75; in partition plans, 170, 178, 181; in peace negotiations, 229, 234, 235; political stability in, 124; reconstruction of, 127; refugees in, 129, 130; in safe passage issue, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205–8, 211, 214; in security, 104, 106–7; settlements, 76, 78f, 84; water shortage, 132; and West Bank as territorial unit, 192 Geography, 60, 86; demography and, 70; and security, 95–96 Geopolitics, 31, 69; and security, 106–7; Geopolitical form of compromise, 222 Germany/Germans, 30, 31, 41, 216–17 Givat Ze’ev, 79 Golan Heights, 63, 107, 161 Gorny, Yosef, 187 Gradualist-functionalist approach, 123–24 Great Britain, 31, 56 Great Rift Valley, 72 Green line, 56, 58f, 76, 79, 85, 90, 93, 102, 167, 172, 173, 185, 186, 211, 212, 227, 241; business contacts across, 126; exit/entry points near, 205; as peace border, 191; porous, 117–19 Groom, A.J.R., 32 Guerrilla warfare, 104, 113

Gush Etsion bloc, 76, 79, 102, 228, 236 Haass, Richard, 12, 14 Haifa, 65, 73, 155, 181 Hamas, 105, 113, 166, 180, 207, 222, 236 Hampson, Fen Osler, 11 Har Homa housing project, 142, 145 Harkabi, Yehoshafat, 161 Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, 62–63, 70, 89, 103, 251n18; claim to water resources, 130; Palestinian diaspora in, 184 Hashemites, 56, 241 Hasmonean tunnel, 142, 145, 157 Hebron, 65, 73, 85, 91, 156f, 157, 163, 200, 210, 211, 215; closure of, 206; in peace negotiations, 234 Hebron agreement (1997), 186, 212; “Note for the Record,” 236 Heller, Mark, 173, 175, 226–27 Helprin, Mark, 30 Hirschfeld, Yair, 229 Historical sites, 69, 83, 155, 175 Hizbollah, 112 Holsti, K. J., 31 Holy Land, 1, 3, 4, 8, 66, 116, 138, 190; religious reciprocity in, 155–57; splitting, 30; and tourism, 124–25 Holy places/sites, 138, 139; access to, 148, 149, 155, 157; protection of, 143 Holy Sepulchre (church), 145 Holy wars, 135, 157 Homeland(s), 162, 164, 185 Horowitz, Donald L., 35 Huntington, Samuel P., 35 “Hurting stalemate,” 11, 221, 237, 244 Hussein, King, 52, 56, 61, 89, 90, 103, 152, 182, 208

274

Index

Husseini, Faisal, 152 Husseini, Jamal, 56, 66 Hydrostrategic map, 131f Ideology, 15; regarding partition, 178, 182; in settlement ethos, 79 Implementation strategies, 237–38 Independence (Palestine), 64, 183, 184, 185; unilateral declaration of, 231–32 India, 22, 28, 30, 31, 38, 70, 217, 238 Innocent passage, 111 Insecurity, 95–99, 112, 113 Integration theory, 32, 35–36, 37 Interconnectedness, 189 Interdependence, 62, 117, 205; economic, 119, 124, 125, 128–29; in Jerusalem issue, 155 Interim Agreement on the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, Article 10 under Annex I, 194–96 Interim agreements, 13, 162, 230; phase, 63, 117, 123, 177 International actors, 42, 105; third parties, 235 International aid, 127–28 International community: and status of Jerusalem, 143 International guarantees, 112, 114, 115 International peace conferences, 17 International relations, 31–32, 36 International relations theory, 45 Internationalization (proposed): Jerusalem, 148, 150, 151, 152 Intifada, 105, 121–22, 232, 236; economic consequences of, 121–22, 126 Intransigence, 46, 49; politics of, 86 Invasion, threat of, 106–9, 111 Investment capital, 127–28 Iran, 90, 97; threat from, 103, 109 Iraq, 25, 30, 90; threat from, 103, 107, 109 Irredentism, 53, 82, 103, 238

Islam, 148, 149, 235 Israel, 70; Ministry of Religious Affairs, 149; Palestinians in, 75, 81; paradigm shift to partitionism, 234–35; pluralism, 173–77, 185; in politics of demography, 74; and safe passage, 212–15; sovereignty over Jerusalem, 139, 149–50; threat of Israeli Arabs to, 82; withdrawal by, 235, 236 Israeli airforce, 109 Israeli Arabs, 21, 80–82, 241; intertwined with Israelis, 82–85, 86; see also Arab-Israeli conflict Israeli Defense Forces (IDF), 101, 105, 108, 112, 113, 168, 170, 191; border checkposts, 206, 207; Deployment Map and West Bank Road Grid, 213f; and safe passage, 212; territorial schemes of, 172, 175; withdrawals, 231 Israeli-Jordanian dialogue, 17 Israeli-Palestinian negotiations, 200; partition in, 49–51 Israeli-Palestinian relations, 20, 65, 234; clash of rights in, 226; collaboration in, 147; conflict, 8; disengagement, 63; interdependence in, 117; lack of identity of purpose in, 221–25; partition in, 240–42; safe passage in, 217, 220 Israeli-Palestinian security: Jordan in, 88–90 Israelis, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 17, 42, 45, 48; and economics of partition, 119–23, 125–29; and green line, 118; intertwined with Arabs, 82–85, 86; in Jerusalem, 144, 145; and Jerusalem sovereignty, 150–52, 153, 154, 155; measuring success/ failure, 161; nationalism, 21, 22; and partition, 6, 22, 53–54, 61, 66, 163, 168, 172, 173, 174–75,

Index 275 176–77, 178, 186; and peace process, 221–25, 233, 234–36, 237, 238, 241, 242–44; and safe passage, 191, 192, 198–99, 202–5, 209, 211, 212–15, 218–20; security dilemma, 88, 96; security requisites, 101–4, 114; separatism embraced by, 46 Jabotinsky, Vladimir (Ze’ev), 52 Jaffa, 65, 155, 181 Jenin, 211, 232 Jericho, 80, 91, 95, 162, 192; putting first, 139; in safe passage issue, 200 Jerusalem, 49, 56, 64, 65, 73, 79, 85, 102, 135, 136–57, 171, 185, 215; business contacts in, 126; as capital of Israel, 143; as capital of proposed Palestinian state, 93; capital of two states, 153; defenses of, 108, 172; divided, 140f, 146, 176; dual sovereignty for, 152–55; emotional sentiment, 142; fictional, 144–45; municipal boundaries, 144; Old City, 144, 145, 148, 157; in partition plans, 167, 168, 178; in peace accord, 228, 229; periphery, 175; preserving status quo, 145–46; religious reciprocity in, 155–57; reunification, 144; sovereignty, 139, 143, 144, 150–52; status of, 61, 63, 66, 143; subterranean tunnels, 200; three strata of, 146–50; two-dimensional, 137–39; umbrella municipality, 141; working within confines of, 142–46 Jerusalem corridor, 75, 76, 102, 171 Jerusalem Institute for Communication, 180 Jerusalem Institute for Israel Studies, 153, 258n6 Jerusalem issue, 224, 229, 239; putting first, 139–42

Jerusalem sector, 75 Jewish Agency, 50, 82 Jewish diaspora, 83 Jewish state, 184–85; PLO intentions to liquidate, 101 Jews, 7, 50, 53–54, 85, 223, 239, 243; and Israeli Arabs, 82, 83; and Jerusalem, 138, 154, 155, 157; in Jerusalem, 139, 141, 144, 147, 148, 149, 150; in Palestine, 73, 74; population in Israel, 75–76 Jezreel valley, 75 Joint nonaggression pacts, 114 Joint supervision (proposed): Jerusalem, 148, 150 Joint water regime (proposed), 133, 134 Jointness, 86, 117, 125, 205 Jordan, 20, 28, 52, 62, 72, 74, 106, 225, 241, 242; and economics of partition, 117; Hashemite royal house, 148–49; interest in air corridors, 208; in Israeli-Palestinian security equation, 88–90; and Jerusalem, 152; Palestinians in, 73, 75, 163; in/and peace accord, 229; refugee camps, 130; and security, 103, 107–8, 109; and tourism, 124, 125; water sources, 130, 133, 134; see also Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan Jordan River, 93, 102, 168, 178, 241; as border, 91; border crossings, 94f; military outposts and early warning stations on, 212; as security border, 108, 118, 174, 176; sovereignty over, 173 Jordan River system, 130 Jordan Valley, 80, 167, 172, 178, 228, 229; north-south strip, 97; in partition plans, 174; in peace negotiations, 227; as security border, 102, 103, 108; status of, 172–73

276

Index

“Jordanian option,” 56 Jordanian-Palestinian federation (proposed), 229 Joseph’s Tomb, 155, 157 Judea, 53, 72, 80, 91, 167, 234; holy places in, 155; Israeli presence in, 191; in partition plans, 170; repartitioning of, 174–75 Judean Desert, 178, 215 Just peace, 88; just stability or, 11–24 Kahalani, Avigdor, 119 Kahana, Meir, 166 Kaplan, Morton, 32 Karni checkpost, 207 al-Katib, Ghassan, 180 Katz, Yossi, 170 Kennedy, Paul, 115 Khalidi, Ahmad, 99–100, 102–3, 183–84 al-Khanka Mosque, 145 Khouri, Rami, 183 Knesset, 80, 143, 176, 208 Korea/Koreans, 30, 31, 41 Kumar, Radha, 38–39, 40 Labor Party, 52, 53, 79, 80, 174, 230; peace platform, 56 Laitin, David D., 13 Lake Tiberias region, 75 Land, 2, 69, 72t, 73, 74, 167; arable, 72; corridors, 66; division of, 239; and economic health, 116; mutual exchange of, 93, 229; and people, 74–76; questions relating to, 61; redistributions, 63; struggle for possession of, 233–34; title to, 27; value of, in struggle over Palestine, 223 Land factor, usages of, 32 Land for land, 41, 46, 93, 223, 224 Land for peace, 1, 7, 46, 91, 93, 114,

166, 168, 173, 175–76, 223, 226, 235, 236 Land for security, 223 “Land of Israel”: repartition of, 234–35 Land sharing, 21, 28, 32, 54, 263n31; by land division, 164, 166; necessity of, 5 Law of Return, 82 Leaders, 20; and dual sovereignty for Jerusalem, 154; Palestinian, 182, 184, 229; and partition, 242; rational action by, 15 League of Arab States, 235 Lebanon, 30, 51, 62, 107, 112, 130 Lewis, Samuel W., 54 Lijphart, Arend, 27 Likud party, 52–53, 163, 168, 174, 177, 230, 232, 234 Little Triangle, 73, 75 Lod, 73, 93, 102, 181 Ma’ale Adumim, 79, 102, 144, 172, 228 Ma’avar batuach, 200 Madrid Conference, 60; framework, 20, 221 Madrid-Oslo peace process, 7, 19 “Man-milieu relationships,” 65 Maps: based on compromise, 224; partition in, 138; permanent status, 222, 223; proposed, 234–35; see also Peace maps Maps of Palestine (proposed), 166, 167–68, 170, 176–77, 178, 179, 181; repartitioning in, 163 Maximum assured security, 98 Mearsheimer, John, 33, 34 Middle East, 23, 215; air power in, 109; instability in, 106; military balance in, 88; negotiating behavior, 17; nuclear-free, 103; perceptions of, 186; political instability, 238; regional map, 71f;

Index 277 regional security, 89; ripeness, 19–21; security frameworks, 62–63 Middle East conflict, 49, 234 Middle East-North Africa (MENA) economic conferences, 127 Middle East peacemaking, 1, 2, 42, 49, 54; constructive ambiguity in, 61; security question in, 113 Middle ground, 161–87, 226; in safe passage, 200 Military doctrine (Israel), 108, 109 Minimax, 225–33 Minorities problem, 61, 63, 70, 76, 80–82; see also Ethnic groups/ minorities Mitchell, Christopher, 13 Mixed cities and towns, 61, 65, 73, 165; Jewish and Arab populations in, 85t Mixed municipalities: as metaphor, 85–86 Mordechai, Yitzhak, 208, 214, 215, 234, 266n28 Mountain Aquifer, 132 Muslims: in/and Jerusalem, 138, 141, 145, 148, 149, 150, 155–57 “Mutual hostage” theory, 219 Mutual reassurances, 114 Nablus, 211, 232 Nation(s): dividing, 41; unity of, 36 Nation building, 23 National Agreement Regarding the Negotiations on the Permanent Settlement with the Palestinians, 173–74 National self-determination, 4, 31, 74 Nationalism, 4, 29, 37, 242; and economic relations, 125; European, 37; regarding Jerusalem, 142; Jewish, 187; Palestinian, 21, 22, 81, 90, 170, 178, 184; and partition, 35; rival, 27; in water issue, 134

Nationalist conflicts, 31, 226 Nationalist movements, 225 Natural resources, 69, 73, 240 Nazareth, 65, 73, 93 “Negative equilibrium,” 222, 230 Negative peace, 13 Negev, 72, 75, 208–9 Negotiating success/failure, 5–6 Negotiating “tracks,” 14 Negotiation, 2, 11, 25, 97, 187, 222; direct, 17–18; economic, 116; focused and intensive, 3; mechanics of, 19; modalities and technical questions in, 16; phased, 233; regarding safe passage, 210–15, 216, 218; time factor in, 233; vagueness in, 47 Negotiation theory, 37, 48–49 Neopartitionism, 31, 36 Netanyahu, Binyamin (Benjamin), 52, 91, 163, 166, 167, 168, 172, 174, 175, 177, 208, 226, 230, 266n28; autonomy plus, state minus proposal, 1; “Note for the Record,” 197; and partition, 186, 264n38; and safe passage issue, 211, 212; and territorial compromise, 234 Netanyahu government, 79, 100, 126, 176, 210, 259n2 New Republic, 174 Normalization, 14, 18, 238 Nuclear weapons, 96, 103 O’Brien, Conor Cruise, 34 Olson, William C., 32 Opportunity costs, collective, 121, 122 Orient House, 142, 144 Orthodox Churches, 148 Oslo accords/agreement, 3, 7, 17, 39, 49, 60, 89, 100, 109, 141, 145, 157, 192, 199, 204, 221, 231, 232, 233; borders in, 90–93; interim,

278

Index

Oslo accords/agreement (continued) 230; principle of contiguity in, 219; safe passage in, 209, 210, 211–12 Oslo declaration (of principles), 2, 20, 56 Oslo model: gradualism in, 63; negotiations, 105, 143, 263n31 Oslo process, 93, 177; pace of, 127 Oslo spirit, 198 Oslo timetable, 21, 60 Oslo II, 91, 162 Oslo II map, 92f Ottoman Empire, 28, 251n18 Outside mediators, 17 Outside monitoring regime, 6, 101 Pakistan, 22, 28, 90, 217, 238 Palestine, 6, 8, 15, 20, 28, 31, 38, 69–86; under British Mandate, 43f; clash of right with right in, 226; compromising, 185; debate over dividing, 189–90; economic foundations, 116–17; as Jewish “national home,” 47; liberation of, 90; partition, 23, 39–40, 45–66, 70, 240, 244; physical landscape, 70–73; piecing, 233–36; population of, 73–74; reinventing, 161–63; repartitioning, 36, 42, 234, 237, 239; separation supported in, 22; struggle over, 1, 21; undivided, 138 Palestine mandate, 73, 251n18 Palestine National Council, 51, 93, 232, 263n32 Palestine National Covenant, 50, 236 Palestine problem, 4, 19, 25, 48; constructive ambiguity in, 47 Palestinian Authority (PA), 6, 48, 74, 83, 95, 105, 162, 190, 191, 202, 232; and border crossings, 207; declaring unilateral independence, 231; and economic factors, 123, 129; elections, 143; “entity” status

for, 234; police forces, 113; and safe passage issue, 201, 205, 209, 210; and sea and air rights, 109–11 Palestinian day workers, 63, 120–21, 122, 124 “Palestinian Declaration of Independence,” 51 Palestinian diaspora, 75, 83, 130, 163, 184, 241 Palestinian national movement, 6 Palestinian rights, 20 Palestinian state (proposed), 52, 53, 61, 62–63, 75, 76, 79, 81, 85, 93, 179, 181, 182, 183–84, 191, 227, 228; bifurcated, 219; demilitarized, 229, 232; and partition, 240; and safe passage issue, 204; threat posed by, 104; unilateral declaration of, 1, 231–32; in West Bank and Gaza, 235 Palestinians, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 17, 42, 45, 48; conformity, 177–87; and control of border crossings, 95; and economics of partition, 119–23, 125–29; expanding dominion of, 91; and green line, 118; internal threats to, 113; in Jerusalem, 139, 144, 145, 148; and Jerusalem sovereignty, 150–52, 153, 154, 155; measuring success/failure, 161; nationalism, 21, 22, 81, 90, 170, 178, 184; and partition issue, 22, 50–51, 53–54, 56, 60, 61, 66, 163–64, 168, 172, 173, 174–75, 176–87; and peace process, 221– 25, 231–32, 233, 234–35, 236, 237, 238, 241, 242–44; population dispersed, 75; and safe passage, 190–91, 192, 198, 201, 202, 203, 205, 207, 209, 210, 211, 212, 218–20; and security, 88, 96, 99–101, 114; and separatism, 46; and terrorism, 104–5

Index 279 Partition, 1–2, 6, 8, 21–23, 25, 27–28, 29–30, 32, 45–66, 83–84; applied to Jerusalem, 146; applying to irreconcilably divided societies, 34–36; borders and, 87; change in thinking toward, 33–34, 37–38; chronology of, 56; conditions for, 240; conflict resolution through, 69–70; economics of, 115–35; hard/soft, 1, 46, 66, 86, 88, 164–66, 242, 243; holy places in, 138; and human landscape, 73–76; inescapability of, 4–5, 223; issues in, 26, 61; logic for, 243; meaning of, 6–7, 224, 225; opposition to, 51–54; Palestinian conformity regarding, 177–87; as permanent status peace construct, 231; and physical landscape, 70–73; prescription/doing of, 23; questions in, 61–64; reasons for, 65–66, 74; and safe passage, 192, 217–18; settlements and, 76–80; shifting lines in, 90–93; standard for, 42; step-by-step, 63; as territorial compromise, 39–40, 41; and world politics, 30–34 Partition agenda, 64, 66 Partition plans, 166–73; safe passage in, 214, 216; with economic union, 117 Partition plus, 5, 66, 88, 117, 164, 165, 185, 231, 237–42, 243, 244 Partition qualifiers, 40–42 Partition regime: “hard”/“soft,” 41 Partition variables, 41–42, 42t Partitioned countries, 249n31 Partitionism, 30, 34, 38, 243–44; in Arab-Israel conflict, 41–42; Israeli shift to, 234–35 Partitionist peace: inching toward, 163–66

Peace, 7; compromise necessary to, 186; factors affecting prospects for, 177; meaning and substance of, 7–8; negative/positive, 13; and partition, 37–38; price of, 8; safe passage issue and, 218 “Peace construct,” 18, 20–21, 22, 189; criteria for, 26–27; models, 27–30; partition as, 39 Peace formulations: Palestinian, 184 Peace maps, 2, 8, 18, 64, 65, 88, 114, 181, 223; transit rights in, 111 Peace Now Movement, 266n27 Peace paradigms, 25 Peace plans, 64 Peace process, 3, 30; Jordan in, 89 Peace research, 32, 37 Peacemaking, 14, 48, 221–25; absence of minimax in, 226–33; Arab-Israel, 20–21, 23; ground rules, 25; international, 17, 19; language in, 47; Middle East, 1, 2, 42; need for exit strategy in, 18; partition in, 138; success/failure in, 11; variables in, 14 Peel, Lord, 226 Peel commission, 54–60, 61, 190, 221; partition plan, 55f, 72; report, 50, 242 People: land and, 74–76 Peres, Shimon, 1–2, 52, 134, 190, 229, 243, 258n2 Permanent status, 25; debate over, 240–42; deferring, 233 Permanent status negotiations/talks, 5, 8, 21, 90, 163, 174, 178, 230–31, 233, 234; status security concerns, 114; territorial compromise in, 6, 82 Permanent status settlement, 60–61, 89; outlines for, 209, 227–30; terms of, 90 Physical capital: control over, 116

280

Index

Physical landscape, 70–73 Physical space, 2, 223; and economic health, 116 Physicians for Human Rights, 206 Players, alignment of, 16–18, 20 PLO, 56, 62, 81, 82, 85, 88, 95, 101, 102, 105, 120, 129, 166, 179, 182; covenant clauses, 48; and safe passage issue, 200 Pluralism, 28; Israeli, 173–77, 185 Poland, 30, 41 Political compromise, 2, 5, 6, 31, 45, 46, 61, 223 Political jurisdiction: Jerusalem, 146, 147, 149 Political legitimacy, 74 Political realism, 37, 40–41, 164, 183, 243 Political values, 74 Politics: demographic, 241–42; economic, 129, 133–34; and religion, 138; of safe passage, 205, 208–9, 215–16 Politics of partition, 170–73, 181–82, 187, 224, 238; theory of, 42 Population transfers, 70, 80–81, 84, 224, 239 Positive peace, 13 Post Oslo, 45–46, 48 Postpartition, 238, 240 Postripeness, 12 Power sharing, 28, 30, 120 Prepartition, 237 Primakov, Yevgeni, 113 Protective measures, 3, 98 Psychological barriers, 15–16, 20, 60 Psychological environment: security in, 88, 96 Public opinion surveys, 22, 46, 53, 139, 180–81 al-Quds, 228

Rabin, Yitzhak, 46, 105, 199–200, 227, 229 Rabin government, 143 Rachel’s Tomb, 155, 157 Rafael, Gideon, 17 Rafiah, 111, 208 Ramallah, 152, 210, 211 Ramle, 73, 93, 181 Rapid intervention force(s), 172–73 Rational choice theory, 32–33, 125 Reagan plan, 56 Realist school, 32, 34 Realpolitik, 40–41 “Red lines” doctrine, 90, 108 Refugee problem/refugees, 61, 64, 74, 100, 129–30, 132, 229 Refugee repatriation, resettlement, and compensation, 63, 224, 237 Regional linkage (security), 89, 99, 100 Regional stability (issue), 62–63; politics, 88; water policy, 134 Regionalism, 35–36, 128 Reintegration, 38, 39 Religion: and politics, 138 Religious condominium, 150 Religious fundamentalism, 36 Religious jurisdiction: Jerusalem, 146, 147–50 Religious reciprocity: in Jerusalem, 155–57 Religious sentiment: regarding Jerusalem, 142 Religious sites, 69, 83; shared control over, 63; violence at, 157; see also Holy places/sites Religious tolerance, 149, 157 Repartition(ing), 5, 6, 23, 40, 46, 147, 162–63, 175, 224, 236, 237–38; green line in, 118; lines of, 90–91; opposition to, 51–54; safe passage in, 219; territorial claims in, 165–66

Index 281 Repartition agenda, 60–61, 62 Resource allocation, 63, 69, 116, 224 Resources, 120, 127; control over, 97 Right of return, 84, 100, 101, 129, 181, 229 Ripeness, 11–14, 16, 226, 236, 237; prerequisite for, 187; testing for, 19–21 Roads, 112, 175, 197–98, 200, 201; closure of, 218; control of, 214 Roman Catholics, 148 Rosenberg, Naomi, 186 Safe passages, 111, 112, 189–220, 229, 232, 239; bargaining regarding, 209–15; details of, 201–2; logistics of, 205–8; meaning of, 200, 209, 210; modalities for effecting, 193–97; paper and political trails, 215–18; as peace issue, 197–200; politics of, 205, 208–9, 215–16; safeguards in, 202–5 Sadat, Anwar, 15, 17 Sadat-Begin peace negotiations, 182 Said, Edward, 8, 27 Samaria, 53, 72, 79, 80, 91, 102, 133, 167, 172, 234; holy places in, 155; Israeli presence in, 191; in partition plans, 170, 171; repartitioning of, 174–75 Samuel, Lord, 189–90, 191, 214 Sarid, Yossi, 175 Savir, Uri, 39 Schaeffer, Robert, 34, 38, 40 Schiff, Ze’ev, 101, 102, 103, 168 Second-order problems, 60, 63 Second Temple, 148 Security, 6, 53, 60, 61, 62, 64, 86, 189; borders and, 87–114; common, 112–14; and economics, 115–16, 117, 120; final settlement

based on, 214; green line and, 119; Israeli requisites for, 101–4; Israeli responsibility for, 198, 202, 211; Israel’s right to, 174; Palestinian concerns regarding, 99–101; in partition, 168–70, 175, 239, 241; in safe passage, 202–5, 208–9; and territorial claims, 172; and water resources, 133 Security danger(s): defining, 97–98 Security dilemma/predicament, 96, 204 Security for sovereignty, 114 Security guarantees, 63 Security sphere: outer limits of, 102–3 Security zone, 167, 190–91, 232 Sea and air threats, 109–11 Seaport rights, 109, 111 Self-defense, Palestinian, 99, 100–1 Self-determination, 38, 66 Self-interest, 134–35, 237, 243; economic, 124, 127 Self-rule, 64, 88, 162, 192, 212, 241; interim, 60; limited, 53 Separation/separatism, 1, 21, 22, 29, 35–36, 45, 46, 53, 54, 84, 164, 165–66, 191; degree and extent of, 61; economic, 126–27; economics of, 64; exclusivity and insularity in, 62; historical record of, 70; lines of, 23; maximum, 64; political, 126–27, 162, 239, 240, 242; and safe passage issue, 204, 205, 211; and security, 114; soft, 263n34; together, 242–44 Settlement, 60–61; terms of, 18–19, 21, 25 Settlements/settlers, 52, 76–80, 77f, 78f, 91, 164, 165, 168, 183, 215; annexing, 232; in partition plans, 170, 172, 174, 175, 176, 178; in peace negotiations/proposals, 227, 228, 234; policy, 200; and safe

282

Index

Settlements/settlers (continued) passage issue, 212, 214; socioeconomic motives of, 79–80; status and safety of, 63 Shalom al Yisrael synagogue, 155 Shamir, Yitzhak, 52, 91 Sharon, Ariel, 62, 133, 167, 172, 175, 214, 232, 234, 266n28 Sha’th, Nabil, 179 Sheehan, Michael, 32 Shiite Amal, 112 Shikaki, Khalil, 183 Silwan, 141, 142, 144 Sinai, 107, 182 Sinai I and II, 161, 235 Six Day War, 143 Slovakia, 28, 69 Slovaks, 33, 35, 36, 61, 119 Sofer, Arnon, 212 Solutions: ideal-type, 26–27; unacceptable, 23 Sovereignty, 28, 36, 64; dual: Jerusalem, 152–55; Jerusalem, 139, 143, 144, 150–52; Jewish, 91; Palestinian, 53, 63, 83, 101, 109, 227, 231; and safe passage, 201, 209, 211, 214; and security, 95, 114; shared, 27 Spheres of influence, 30, 32 Sprout, Harold and Margaret, 31 Stability, 26; different from peace, 13; just, 11–24 Standard of living: Palestinian, 120, 122, 124 State(s): conflict within, 35; dividing, 41; sovereignty of, 36 State of Israel, 50–51, 53, 56, 61, 185; as Jewish homeland, 82–83 Statecraft, 66, 243 Statehood (Palestinian), 88, 153, 165, 178, 179, 184, 215, 226; unilateral, 231, 232–33; see also Palestinian state (proposed)

Status quo: Jerusalem, 145–46; religious sites in Jerusalem, 148, 149–50 Stein, Kenneth W., 54 Stonewalling, 49 Successor states, 28 Sudan, 38, 217 Switzerland, 30, 217 Syria, 62, 130, 217; threat from, 103, 107, 109 Technology, 126; military, 108–9 Tel-Aviv, 65, 79, 102, 107, 108, 118, 143, 152 Tel-Aviv—Jerusalem road, 107 Temple Mount (Haram al-Sharif), 141, 144, 145, 148, 149, 157; status for, 267n11 Territorial adjustment: in security doctrine, 102 Territorial compensation and sharing principle, 31, 32, 37, 87 Territorial compromise, 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 25, 31–32, 34–35, 46, 50, 54, 56, 60, 62, 66, 93, 163, 164, 182, 184, 186, 187, 190, 223, 230, 244; degrees of, 166–67; designated exit strategy, 21–24; effect on Palestinians, 75; ethnic conflict in, 69; and minorities problem, 81; models for, 164–66, 168–73; negotiated, 221–44; opposition to, 53; Palestine, 45; Palestinians and, 235; partition rests on, 28; peace map based on, 8; peacemaking through, 182; perceptions of, 178, 183; political and security arrangements, 61; principles for, 64, 239; rationalizing, 36–40; settlements in, 79, 80; West Bank, 91 Territorial compromise formula: prospects for, 226–33

Index 283 Territorial concessions, 88; in bargaining, 87, 176; Palestinian, 178–79 Territorial contiguity, 174, 175, 181, 189–92, 197, 211, 215, 216–17, 218, 219, 232; and safe passage, 209 Territorial expanse, 60, 189 Territorial integrity, 181, 189–92, 197, 211, 212, 216, 217 Territorial partition, 2, 31; gray area of, 161–63; preconditions for, 33–34 Territorial possession, 73 Territorial reciprocity, 252n6 Territories (the), 74; closure imposed on, 209; Israel’s control of, 108; Jewish population in, 81; threats from, 104; water sources, 130; withdrawal from, 83, 84, 139, 176 Terrorism, 46, 83, 93, 104–6, 111, 112, 200, 209, 215, 241; prevention of, 203–4; vulnerability to, 75–76 Terrorism-closure cycle, 236 Third parties, 17, 18, 235; and security, 99–100 “Third Way” party, 80, 262n20 Threat perceptions, 96, 104–12, 113 Time/timing, 5, 13, 127; importance of, 1, 51; in negotiations, 230–31 Timetable, 60, 63, 232, 233 Tomb of the Patriarchs, 155 Tourism, 124–25 Transjordan, 56, 62, 74, 163, 216, 251n18; under British Mandate, 43f Transit rights, 63, 64, 111–12, 165, 190–91 Transport corridors, 200, 210, 211, 215, 216 Truman, Harry, 120 Tulkarem, 211 Turkey, 70, 206

Two-state solution, 1, 51, 56, 61, 62, 183, 184, 226 Umm al-Fahm, 211 Unilateralism, 88, 117, 214, 232 United Arab Republic (UAR), 217 United Nations, 50, 112; and Jerusalem, 149, 150, 152; 1947 plan, 117; partition resolution (1947), 56, 57f, 72, 225 United Nations General Assembly Resolution, 181, 51 United Nations Resolution 242, 26, 47, 87, 143, 170–71, 179 United Nations Resolution 338, 143 United States, 42, 105, 118, 184, 217, 222, 231, 235, 238; aid from, 129; and partition, 183 University students, 98, 205, 206–7 UNSCOP, 221, 242 Utopianism, economic, 125–26 Van Evera, Stephen, 33, 34 “Velvet divorce”/partition, 28, 61 Versailles peace treaties, 190 Wadi Ara region, 73, 75 Wadi Joz, 144 Waltz, Kenneth, 32 Walzer, Michael, 37 Warfare, 11, 104, 107 Washington protocol, 209, 210, 216 Washington “Safe Passages” Map (1995), 199f Water, 73, 129, 132, 232; allocation and control of, 61, 116, 133; distribution of, 72; rights, 63 Water crisis, 130–35 Water resources, 60, 65, 121, 128, 171, 175; control over, 91, 172 al-Wazir, Intisar (“Um Jihad”), 264n13 Weapons, 96, 103, 112–13

284

Index

West Bank, 38, 40, 56, 62, 70, 72, 73, 75–76, 86, 97, 117; annexation of, 152; authority over, 231; covenantal birthright of Jewish people, 79; division of, 91, 162, 166, 168, 170, 172, 174, 175, 176, 178, 181, 224; economic development, 128; frontiers, 74; and Gaza Strip as territorial unit, 192; holy sites in, 155; industrial production, 122; Israelis in, 83; Jerusalem and, 143; key economic indicators, 120t; occupation and administration of, 120–21; opinion regarding partition, 180–81; Palestinians in/and, 75, 112, 182; partitioning, 117; in peace accords, 229; in peace negotiations, 227, 234, 235, 236; political stability in, 124; positions regarding, 186; refugees in, 129, 130; reoccupation of, 241; in repartition, 165, 166, 184, 185, 223; in safe passage issue, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205–8, 211, 212–14, 218; and security, 104, 106–8, 114; settlements, 76–79, 77f, 84; sovereignty over, 232; territorial

compromise, 187; water sources, 132, 133; withdrawal from, 89, 90, 93, 105, 162, 164 West Bank-Jordanian border, 106, 109 West Jerusalem, 107 Workability (criterion), 26, 42 World Bank, 129 World Economic Forum, 127 World politics: partition and, 30–34 Wye plantation summit, 2 Wye River agreement, 176 Wye River memorandum, 2, 7 Yamit, 84 Yarkon-Taninim Aquifer, 172 Yarmuk River System, 131f Yassin, Sheikh Ahmad, 180, 182, 259n3 Yesha Council of Settlements, 262n20 Yugoslavia, 23, 28, 30, 39 Zartman, I. William, 11, 14, 32, 221 Zero-sum positions, 15, 88, 184, 219, 225 Zionism/Zionists, 50, 54, 79, 84, 187, 225; practical, 74