Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy: Jerusalem and Northern Ireland

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Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy In Jerusalem and Northern Ireland, territorial disputes have often seemed indivisible, unable to be solved through negotiation and prone to violence and war. This book challenges the conventional wisdom that these conflicts were the inevitable result of clashing identities, religions, and attachments to the land. On the contrary, it was radical political rhetoric, not ancient hatreds, that rendered these territories indivisible. Stacie Goddard traces the roots of territorial indivisibility to politicians’ strategies for legitimating their claims to territory. When bargaining over territory, politicians utilize rhetoric to appeal to their domestic audiences and undercut the claims of their opponents. However, this strategy has unintended consequences; by resonating with some coalitions and appearing unacceptable to others, politicians’ rhetoric can lock them into positions in which they are unable to recognize the legitimacy of their opponent’s demands. As a result, politicians come to negotiations with incompatible claims, constructing territory as indivisible. Stacie E. Goddard is Assistant Professor of Political Science at Wellesley College and a faculty associate in the International Security Program at the Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs at Harvard University. Previously, she was a Fellow at the Belfer Center, a National Security Fellow at the John M. Olin Institute for Strategic Studies at Harvard University, and a Fellow at the Center for International Studies at Princeton University and the Center for International Studies at the University of Southern California. Her articles have appeared in International Organization, International Security, International Theory, and the European Journal of International Relations.

To Paul

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy Jerusalem and Northern Ireland

STACIE E. GODDARD Wellesley College

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Singapore, São Paulo, Delhi, Dubai, Tokyo Cambridge University Press The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 8RU, UK Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9780521439855 © Stacie E. Goddard 2010

This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provision of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published in print format 2009 ISBN-13

978-0-511-63508-3

eBook (NetLibrary)

ISBN-13

978-0-521-43985-5

Hardback

Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of urls for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Contents

Acknowledgments 1 2

page vii

Introduction Constructing Indivisibility: A Legitimation Theory of Indivisible Territory

part one. constructing an indivisible ireland Introduction 3 4

Home Rule: A Divisible Ireland “Ulster Will Fight”: The Orange Card and an Indivisible Ireland

part two. jerusalem: the eternal indivisible city

1 18 47 47 58 81

115

Introduction Dividing the Holy City Jerusalem, Indivisible

115 124 159

7

How Northern Ireland Became Divisible (and Why Jerusalem Has Not)

208

8

Conclusion

240

5 6

Bibliography Index

257 277

v

Acknowledgments

This book is about networks. Networks are at the core of political action. An actor’s networks provide the resources necessary to make certain claims, to mobilize support, and ultimately to prevent or provoke conflict. Likewise, the arguments I have developed here result from generous input from individuals in my personal and professional networks. At Columbia University, I met models of academic scholarship. Jack Snyder and Bob Jervis were, and continue to be, exemplary advisors. Their intellectual curiosity and their dedication to asking interesting, significant questions inspired me in my research. I am extremely grateful to them both. Consuelo Cruz spent numerous hours discussing the earliest manifestations of my ideas and was crucial in getting this project off the ground. I was fortunate enough to have Chuck Tilly’s guidance early on in this project. He was an intellectual giant in sociology, history, and political science, and yet his office door was always open. Tilly advised massive numbers of graduate students during his time in Columbia, and all of our work bears his mark. Numerous individuals read portions of this book, either as a dissertation, in draft articles, or portions of this manuscript. For their insight, I am grateful to Fiona Adamson, Mlada Bukovansky, Lars-Erik Cederman, Tim Crawford, Christina Davis, Amitabh Dubey, David Edelstein, Lynn Eden, Tanisha Fazal, James Fearon, Aaron Friedberg, Ron Hassner, Jeff Herbst, Victoria Hui, Bob Jervis, Peter Katzenstein, Bob Keohane, Kate McNamara, John Mearsheimer, John Padgett, Joe Parent, Dan Reiter, Stephen Rosen, Peter Rosendorff, Jack Snyder, Chuck Tilly, and Monica Toft. Throughout this project, Patrick Jackson and Sherrill Stroschein vii

viii

Acknowledgments

have been theoretical sounding boards. My thoughts on network theory and rhetoric were shaped in countless conversations with Dan Nexon. I owe a particular debt of gratitude to those who read the manuscript in its entirety: Stuart Kaufman, Ron Krebs, Paul MacDonald, Malina Swiatek, and the anonymous reviewers at Cambridge University Press. Their comments pushed me through the final stages of this book project. Any errors, of course, remain my own. Since leaving Columbia, I have enjoyed the collegiality of the Department of Political Science at Wellesley College. I am grateful to all of my colleagues for their generous support – they are models of scholarteachers in the field. I owe particular thanks to Kathy Moon, who read the proposal, and Hahrie Han, for her generous advice. Two of my students, Natasha Villacorta and Malina Swiatek, provided excellent research assistance, and the department’s Barnette Miller Committee gave me research support at critical moments during the project. Numerous fellowships have also helped me pursue this research. I received support from the John M. Olin Institute for Strategic Studies, the Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, Princeton’s Center for International Studies, and the Center for International Studies at the University of Southern California. Grants from Columbia’s Salzmann Institute of War and Peace Studies and Wellesley College also funded research. The final stages of this project have been greatly facilitated by the staff at Cambridge University Press. I am particularly grateful to Eric Crahan and Emily Spangler for their input and advice. Chapters 1, 2, 4, and 5 of this book contain portions of my article “Uncommon Ground: Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy,” published in International Organization 60 (1): 35–68; I thank the publisher for granting permission to use the material here. There is not enough space to thank those to whom I owe a personal debt. My graduate school peers, Amitabh Dubey, Ron Krebs, and Dan Nexon, kept me somewhat sane during graduate school, and they continue to be exemplary colleagues and dear friends. Alex Montgomery and Mike Glosny lent an ear at the most difficult moments of the project. I owe particular thanks to my colleagues in the 1020 Club and to Fiona Adamson, Bill Cameron, Lars-Erik Cederman, Greg Mitrovich, and Marie Runyon. Warner Schilling has been my constant mentor and friend and a model for my own work. My parents, David Goddard and Joyce DiMauro, my sister Jennifer, and my nephew Holden continue to inspire and ground me at the most necessary of times.

Acknowledgments

ix

This book is dedicated to my husband, Paul MacDonald. When I say that I could not have done this project without him, this is not an exaggeration. He has read every single draft, from dissertation to book. He has supported me through moments of frustration and has kept me in good humor throughout (well, mostly throughout). Thank you.

1 Introduction

So the king said, “Bring me a sword,” and they brought a sword before the king. The king said, “Divide the living boy in two; then give half to the one, and half to the other.” But the woman whose son was alive said to the king – because compassion for her son burned within her – “Please, my lord, give her the living boy; certainly do not kill him!” The other said, “It shall be neither mine nor yours; divide it.” Then the king responded: “Give the first woman the living boy; do not kill him. She is his mother.” Solomon’s Wisdom in Judgment, 1 Kings 3:24–28.

Indivisible territory is all too frequent in international politics.1 Jerusalem’s significance as indivisible territory can hardly be overstated; it is perhaps the quintessential example of indivisible conflict. For thousands of years, men have battled over the right to rule the Holy City. In contemporary politics, Jerusalem’s indivisibility continues to undermine prospects for an Israeli-Palestinian peace. Although many Israelis “insist that a united Jerusalem will be the eternal capital of the Jewish state,” Palestinian officials contend that any deal that fails to include sovereignty over Al-Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock is “an unacceptable compromise . . . [that] will make their blood boil.”2 With such 1

2

On indivisibility and war, see Fearon 1995, 389–90; Hassner 2003; Hensel and Mitchell 2005; Newman 1999, 16; Pillar 1983; Powell 2006; Toft 2002, 2003; Walter 2000; Vasquez 1993, 77–78. On indivisibility and negotiations, see Elster 1989, 67–78; Coleman 1990; Friedman and Savage 1948; Hirschman 1994; Kniss 1996; Marshall 1984; Ng 1965. Gerald Butt, “Jerusalem: Eternal, Intractable,” BBC News, September 28, 2000. Available at http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/in_depth/middle-east/2000/mideast_peace_process/ 626139.stm. Accessed September 1, 2005.

1

2

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

irreconcilable claims to the Holy City, there can be no doubt that Jerusalem is indivisible, that any agreement acceptable to one side would be unacceptable to the other.3 In East Asia, the confrontation over Taiwan provides another example of indivisible territory. After the nationalist Kuomintang (KMT) lost to Mao’s Communist forces in 1949, the KMT fled to Taiwan, denounced the Chinese government as illegitimate, and claimed mainland China as its own. Over time, some Taiwanese officials have argued that Taiwan should abandon its claim to China and instead pursue an independent sovereign state, a position that directly contrasts with China’s position that there is only “one China,” of which Taiwan is an integral, inalienable part.4 The costs of this indivisible conflict could be severe. As one Chinese official argued in 2002, “Taiwan choosing independence is tantamount to choosing war.”5 As Sumit Ganguly writes, “few conflicts in the post-World War II era, with the possible exception of the Arab-Israeli dispute, have proved as intractable” as Kashmir.6 In 1947, on the heels of their partition and independence, India and Pakistan fought their first war over Kashmir. They would fight again in 1965 and 1999 and have faced countless crises over the rule of this territory. As in Jerusalem and Taiwan, claims to Kashmir appear absolutely irreconcilable. Pakistan argues that Kashmir’s majority Muslim population means the territory rightly belongs within its borders (or at least, that the Kashmiris have a right to secede from India’s rule). Indian officials believe that allowing Kashmir significant autonomy would undermine not only their rule but India’s identity as a multiethnic, multireligious democracy.7 This continued inability to compromise over Kashmir has increased tensions between these nuclear powers, and made Kashmir, in President Bill Clinton’s words, “the most dangerous place on earth.”8 Until very recently, the conflict over Northern Ireland appeared indivisible.9 In 1921, after a bloody war, British and Irish officials 3 4

5

6 7 8 9

On Jerusalem’s indivisibility, see Albin 1993; Hassner 2003. On the conflict over Taiwan and the “One China” policy, see Christensen 1996; Nathan 1996. As Ross argues, however, Taiwan’s rejection of the One China policy is tied to domestic politics, and there are signs that the independence movement is weakening. See Ross 2006. “Taiwan Cancels War Games,” BBC News, August 7, 2002. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/ low/asia-pacific/2177581.stm. Accessed August 15, 2008. Ganguly 2001, 1. Ibid. See also Bose 1999. Quoted in Ganguly 2001, 1. See, e.g., Bew 2007.

Introduction

3

partitioned the country, creating Northern Ireland out of six of Ulster’s nine counties. The partition did little to quell the violence. Throughout the twentieth century, Northern Ireland’s Nationalists and Republicans continued to claim that Northern Ireland was an integral part of the Irish nation. Northern Ireland’s Unionists uniformly dismissed this position – Northern Ireland would, in their view, remain a part of the United Kingdom, in union with the British and not subject to Irish sovereignty. In each of these cases, indivisibility is a central element of violent conflict. In many of these cases, the very presence of indivisible territory has led to negotiation failure.10 So intractable are these conflicts that their indivisibility appears natural, an inevitable result of clashing identities and attachments to the land. As the site of competing national and religious claims, it may seem little wonder that Jerusalem, Northern Ireland, Kashmir, and Taiwan are indivisible; how could it be any other way? But the irony is that as intractable as indivisible conflict may seem, it is strangely malleable. Territory that appears divisible in one time period can prove indivisible in another, and vice versa. Jerusalem was not always treated as indivisible. Although Israeli politicians pledge to maintain Jerusalem as the eternal and undivided capital of Israel, earlier leaders were willing to divide the Holy City. Conflict over Ireland too became indivisible – unable to be ruled by both the British and Irish – only in the twentieth century. If indivisibility is not a constant, if a territory’s indivisibility is malleable, then this raises a serious puzzle: How is it that territory becomes indivisible? Under what conditions are actors unable to divide territory through partition, shared sovereignty, compensation, or other mechanisms of division? Given the significance of indivisible territory, the lack of attention devoted to this question is surprising. Although economists theorize how indivisibility affects bargaining, their arguments address indivisibility primarily as a distribution problem. They assume that an issue is indivisible and address how equitable distribution might be achieved using mechanisms such as lottery, auction, and compensation. Although this is an important puzzle, it leaves unanswered why disputes that in theory have room for compromise – and in practice often do – become indivisible, all-or-nothing games. Explanations of indivisibility are also underdeveloped in international relations theory. With rare exceptions, most models of conflict treat contested issues as comparable to currency – perfectly divisible, allowing for a broad range of settlements.11 10 11

Hirschman 1994; Albin 1993, 8; Newman 1999, 16; Pillar 1983, 24. E.g., Fearon 1995; Sebenius 1983; Putnam 1988.

4

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

This book attempts to fill this theoretical gap. My central argument is that indivisible territory is a social construct. Far from being inevitable or inherent to territory, indivisibility is a contingent outcome, one that is very much the product of human action. When bargaining over territory, politicians engage in a contentious legitimation process. In making their claims to territory, actors use rationales that explain why their territorial demands are legitimate. As elites attempt to outbid each other they are likely to turn to rhetoric – what I call “legitimation strategies” – that will give them an advantage over their opponent. Politicians use rhetoric that will build support at home or coerce their opponent into accepting their demands. In most cases, these politicians are not trying to instigate violent, intractable conflict – they are simply using whatever legitimation strategies help them further their own political interests. But once used, legitimation strategies have unintended consequences. Most notably, a politician’s choice of rhetoric can lead to lock-in effects. By resonating with some actors and not others, legitimation strategies can trap actors into bargaining positions where they are unable to recognize the legitimacy of their opponent’s demands. When this happens, actors come to negotiations with incompatible claims, constructing the territory as indivisible. Viewed in this way indivisibility is tragic, but hardly inevitable. How actors choose to legitimate their interests can either create or destroy the possibility of dividing territory. This book develops this argument in detail, explaining why it is politicians choose certain rhetoric, and how it is that “mere talk” can have such pernicious effects. This chapter will lay out the basics. In the next section, I explain the significance of territorial conflict in world politics. Following this discussion, I turn to definitions of indivisibility, arguing that treating indivisibility as a social fact – neither an objective nor subjective quality of territory – is particularly useful when studying territorial conflict. The chapter concludes with an overview of the existing literature on indivisible territory and summarizes the book’s argument.

territory in international relations Territory is not alone in its indivisibility; issue indivisibility pervades social and political life. The Thirty Years War was driven by the indivisibility of religion; neither Protestants nor Catholics were willing to abandon claims to religious authority, even at the cost of destroying a chance at compromise.12 Similarly, the Franco-Prussian War erupted, 12

Nexon 2009.

Introduction

5

in part, over the Hohenzollern succession and the indivisibility of the Spanish throne. In the domestic sphere, debates over ethnic politics and abortion threaten the delicate balance between compromise and contestation that underpins liberal democracies.13 Divorcing couples know all too well the indivisibility of a child, and even the most well-intentioned of family members might find themselves in an all-or-nothing conflict over the distribution of a family heirloom.14 Although all of these issues are significant, territory is of singular importance in international politics. As John Vasquez has argued, territorial issues “have persistently dominated war for almost 350 years,” and can be linked to 65 percent of international warfare.15 Scholars argue that governments involved in an interstate war are less likely to compromise over territory than they are any other issue.16 In civil wars, Barbara Walter contends that between 1940 and 1996, “governments were less likely to negotiate with rebels fighting for territorial independence or autonomy than with rebels fighting toward any other goal.”17 Territory is also an interesting object of study because its negotiability varies across time and space. Actors appear more willing to negotiate over some territory and not others – even territory of comparable economic value.18 Maria-Th´er`ese was willing to concede territory in the Low Countries to appease Frederick the Great; her stance on Silesia proved far less malleable. The United States was not committed to “54◦ 40 or fight,” but was less flexible in California and Texas. Historically, territory’s negotiability has changed over time, with borders less fixed in the eighteenth century than in the present day. And even the same territory can change in its negotiability. As Ron Hassner argues, some territorial disputes have become more intractable over time.19 All of this raises two questions: Why do actors fail to settle territorial disputes? Why are actors willing to negotiate at one point in time, but not negotiate at another? War after all is an exceedingly costly outcome, one that any rational decision-maker should seek to avoid. To answer this puzzle, some theorists look to rational mechanisms in the 13 14

15

16 17 18 19

Hirschman 1994, 213. See Elster 1989 on issues of child custody and indivisibility. The classic example of the distribution problem – where a number of indivisible objects are to be assigned to a set of individuals – is an inheritance settlement. See Samuelson 1980. Vasquez 1993, 129. See also Diehl 1999; Goertz and Diehl 1992; Luard 1986; Kocs 1995. Luard 1986. Walter 2000, 1. See also Luard 1986; Holsti 1991. Murphy 1990, 538. Hassner 2007.

6

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

bargaining process, arguing that the anarchic constraints easily account for bargaining failure.20 Others argue more irrational factors – misperceptions, identity, or emotions – are more likely to account for territorial conflict. But the idea that some territory is simply indivisible – that there are issues where a division of the issue acceptable to one of the antagonists is unacceptable to the other – has not received much attention. It may be that indivisible territory is perceived as a rare phenomenon, too infrequent to theorize. As James Fearon argues “most issues states negotiate over are quite complex . . . and allow many possible settlements.”21 Yet even if rare, indivisibility is significant. Indivisibility may not always lead to war, but it is one causal pathway to violent conflict. In the two cases studied in this book – Ulster and Jerusalem – thousands have died in the past fifty years alone. For policy makers, indivisible territory in these cases – or in Kosovo, Taiwan, and Kashmir – stand in the way of enduring peace. Infrequency does not mean insignificance. Explaining how territories become indivisible is a critical puzzle for studies of war and peace.

our money and our children: defining indivisible issues What does it mean to say that territory is indivisible? I define an issue as indivisible if actors represent the issue (such as territory) in ways that eliminate any possible division, and thus reduce the bargaining range to zero. In technical terms, indivisibility describes a situation in which actors represent the value of the issue as discontinuous, defined only for the values of (0,1). More informally, we can say an issue is indivisible when any division of the issue acceptable to one of the antagonists is unacceptable to the other. Under these conditions, actors are locked into single, incompatible claims, effectively constituting the issue as indivisible. Although the definition here is not novel, it departs from other definitions of indivisibility in at least three ways. First, indivisibility is not limited to the physical attributes of an issue. Some scholars describe indivisible issues as those that “cannot be split (physically) and/or allocated (easily, widely) among parties, at least not without losing much of [its]

20 21

Fearon 1995; Powell 2006. Fearon 1995, 389.

Introduction

7

intrinsic value or utility.”22 Houses and children are good examples of physically indivisible issues – we cannot divide these issues without losing their essential value. This definition of indivisibility may be intuitive, but it is deeply problematic – it conflates an issue’s divisibility with its capacity to be physically partitioned. Often the physical indivisibility of an issue is beside the point. Territory is physically divisible – Kashmir, Ireland, and Kosovo can be infinitely divided – but this does not prevent actors from treating territory as indivisible in practice. And territory that is partitioned may not actually be divisible – it may not have resulted from a negotiated settlement. For example, as discussed in Chapter 4, the partition of Ireland did not make the Ulster question any less indivisible. Furthermore, emphasizing physical partition obscures the ways we divide the most physically indivisible of issues in everyday life. We do not need to literally slice an object in half to divide it; we can also divide that issue by sharing ownership or trading off possession. In this manner, even children can be divided without Solomon’s sword; divorced parents frequently divide children through time, using joint custody.23 Similarly, economists argue lotteries can effectively divide indivisible issues, and social scientists have long noted that monetary compensation or even leasing can give a divisible value to an otherwise indivisible issue.24 Second, indivisibility cannot be equated with bargaining failure or war.25 Indivisibility is not a root cause of war. Certainly other mechanisms – commitment problems, domestic politics, or misperception, for example – can lead to bargaining failure and violent conflict.26 Moreover, even if territory is indivisible, war and bargaining failure might be avoided if one opponent possesses overwhelming force and can compel a settlement, or if the costs of war are too high. Third, I define indivisibility as a social fact. Indivisibility is a construction, it is neither an objective, inherent property of territory, nor subjective and reducible to individual consciousness.27 Treating indivisibility as a social fact distinguishes it from theorists who study indivisibility as a

22 23 24

25

26 27

Albin 1993, 43. See also Galvin and Lockhart 1990. Time is not always divisible. Elster 1989, 70. C.f. Toft 2006. Elster 1989, 36–103. On leasing, see James Ron and Alexander Cooley, “A Lease Could Break the Palestine-Israel Deadlock,” Boston Globe, July 7, 2000, A23. Walter and Toft equate indivisibility with intractable territorial conflict. See Walter 2000; Toft 2002, 2003. For this critique, see Powell 2006. See Fearon 1995; and Jervis 1979. See Durkheim 1982, 52; and Searle 1995.

8

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

subjective phenomenon, as how an individual or group perceives an issue. For example, Ian Lustick’s examination of imperial retraction explores how leaders come to perceive the periphery as an indivisible component of the state. Similarly, Hassner views indivisibility as a subjective belief, determined by the sacred history of the territory.28 Although beliefs are significant, when studying bargaining failure it is more useful to define indivisibility as social, not perceptual. What we are interested in is not whether one side viewed an issue as indivisible, but whether all of the actors reject mechanisms of division. A return to the child custody example is illustrative. Most divorcing parents view their children as indivisible beings, but this does not mean child custody disputes will necessarily become indivisible. The indivisibility of the child in the parents’ minds and the indivisibility of the child during bargaining may be two different things. To capture the latter, we need a concept that sees indivisibility as a relational value, captured here as a discontinuous bargaining set among actors. By this definition, an indivisible value is social, a product of actors’ relative claims and not a perception. But indivisibility is not objective either; it is a constructed phenomenon, defined by actors’ representations. Indivisibility is malleable. Although Kosovo may have appeared indivisible in 1998, for instance, this was not the case in 1989. This malleability has led some to conclude that indivisibility is not a real characteristic. If everything can be divided in theory, and if an indivisible issue can be shown to have at one point been divisible, then it is not a real phenomenon. In a sense these theorists are correct. Indivisibility is not “real” if by real we mean objective or inherent. But things need not be objective to have a concrete social presence. Money is not objectively real – a $100 bill is just a piece of paper, without any inherent, objective meaning. But this does not mean that money only exists in people’s heads. It is a social fact. In the same way, a territory’s indivisibility is a social fact, one that has a real existence. Yes, we divide children through the mechanism of time, but not every parent sees that as an acceptable settlement. Territory, ideally, is divisible, but claims to Jerusalem, Kashmir, and Alsace-Lorraine appear irreconcilable both to observers and antagonists. Rather than dismiss the problem of indivisibility, we should ask how actors come to treat issues as if they are indivisible. The puzzle, in essence, is one of construction: How do actors come to represent territory in ways that its indivisibility becomes a social fact? 28

See Lustick 1993a; and Hassner 2003.

Introduction

9

indivisible territory: the state of the field Although indivisibility has remained largely understudied, there is recent scholarship – particularly in the literature on ethnic and religious conflict – that considers why some territory seems nonnegotiable. The literature falls into two broad categories. Rationalist approaches to conflict argue indivisibility results from dynamics within the bargaining process.29 At the most basic level, rational choice approaches assume that human behavior is grounded in interests. The key actors in these conflicts are societies’ political elites, who balance their pursuit of security abroad with their desire to hold power at home. Ideally these actors would avoid bargaining failure and the costly outcome of war. In practice, however, structural constraints undermine the negotiation process and lead to indivisible territory. A second approach posits that it is not interests but identities that provoke violence. This constructivist school argues that identities are not inherent, but rather socially constructed. There are two ways in which identities are constructed. First, the boundaries between actors are more fluid than the language of ancient hatreds would suggest. However natural the division between Serb and Croat, British and Irish might seem they are actually the outcome of identifiable historical processes.30 Second, the content of identities is a construct as well. Groups develop histories, narratives – a myth-symbol complex, in Anthony Smith’s terms – that define the characteristic of ethnic groups, how their members should behave . . . and who their enemies are.31 How boundaries are drawn and the content of identities affect the possibility of violence. If boundaries harden between groups – if there are clear impermeable boundaries between societies – violence may be more likely.32 Similarly, as Stuart Kaufman and others have argued, a myth-symbol complex that incorporates narratives of fear and enmity between groups can provoke ethnic violence – the rhetoric of historical hatreds between Serbs and Croats, or between Hutus and Tutsis in Rwanda are extreme examples.33 Each of these general approaches to conflict has something to say about indivisible territory. Strategic interests and identity both play a 29 30

31 32 33

Fearon 1995; Powell 2006; Walter 2000. On the social construction of ethnic boundaries see Sahlins 1989; Brubaker 1996; Tilly 2005; Smith 2004. Smith 1986, 1999; Kaufman 2001, 2006. See Varshney 2001. Kaufman 2001, 2006.

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Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

large role in creating indivisible territory. However, both theories also struggle to explain the key puzzle of how is it that the same territory might be divisible at one point in time and indivisible in another. It is this question of transformation that will be central to the theory developed in this book. Rationalist Theories: Indivisibility as Chimera in International Politics Many theories of indivisibility begin with the assumption that issues are, for the most part, divisible. There is nothing inherent in the nature of disputed issues that accounts for indivisibility.34 The task for the theorist thus becomes explaining why issues might appear indivisible. Why is it that disputes that actors could settle in theory are in reality irresolvable? To answer this question, rationalist theorists largely discount the idea that a conflict over an issue is really indivisible. It is not the case that actors cannot find a settlement; rather, mechanisms within the bargaining process keep actors from adopting a clear compromise, leading to negotiation failure. Rationalists blame two mechanisms for making issues look as if they were indivisible: the commitment problem and precedent setting. First, theorists such as Fearon and Robert Powell argue that although issues could be indivisible, in international politics commitment problems provoke bargaining failures. Theoretically politicians recognize that a bargain exists that both sides would prefer to war – the issue, then, is not really indivisible. However, these “mutually preferable bargains are unattainable because one or more states would have an incentive to renege on the terms.”35 Fearing the consequences of future defection from any agreement, actors opt for war in the present over a peaceful settlement. For instance, Fearon ascribes the indivisibility of the Krajina to the commitment problem. It was not that the Serbo-Croatian War “was made inevitable by deep and wide nationalist passions crossed with conflicting territorial claims.”36 Rather, without benefit of an outside authority, there was nothing credible the Croats could have done “to commit themselves not to pursue policies detrimental to Serb welfare and security in the future, after the Croatian state had grown stronger. Faced with this prospect, it could make sense for even nonextremist Serbs to try to fight 34 35 36

Fearon 1995, 389. Ibid., 38; Powell 2006. Fearon 1998, 115.

Introduction

11

now rather than later, despite the costs of civil war and the existence of bargains that majorities on both sides might have preferred.”37 It was the existence of a commitment problem, not the indivisibility of the territory, that produced bargaining failure and the Serbo-Croatian War. A second explanation attributes indivisibility to precedent-setting concerns. Politicians might avoid compromise not because territory is really indivisible, but because negotiating might signal a weak reputation, which in turn would invite further challenges to the status quo.38 Russia might prefer to negotiate with Chechnya, but this might send the wrong message to its neighbor Ingushetia. Serbia could not negotiate with Croatia, for fear of signaling to Kosovo that secession was possible. Thus for reasons of reputation, states will prove intransigent when it comes to negotiating territory, and actors are likely to treat issues as indivisible, even if there is a settlement elites would prefer to war. For example, Walter argues that when states are concerned about their reputation, they will “bargain so tenaciously because they fear that a concession to one separatist will encourage every other minority to seek its own piece of the pie . . . It is precisely because territory is so easy to divide (and everyone knows this), that governments feel obliged to treat it as if it were indivisible.”39 Similarly, Monica Toft contends that although in reality states view territory as an objective and divisible issue, they will “regard territory as indivisible when they believe that allowing one ethnic group to gain territorial sovereignty will set a precedent.”40 When faced with a nation demanding territory, states will resist compromise now to avoid future secessionist demands. In sum, in each of these theories territory is not really indivisible – it is not the issue itself, but external mechanisms that lead to negotiation failure. These explanations are elegant and convincing, and it is not surprising that theorists have turned to bargaining mechanisms to explain everything from war termination to the democratic peace.41 But these theories encounter problems when applied to indivisible territory. By assuming that a settlement is always available to the actors, these theories simply define away the problem of indivisibility. Indivisibility is more chimera than fact. By definition, there are no issues that cannot be divided. But by assuming away problems of indivisibility, these theories 37 38 39 40 41

Ibid., 116. Walter 2000; Toft 2002. Walter 2000, 4. Toft 2003, 28; see also Toft 2002. On the war termination, see Goemans 2000; on the democratic peace, see Schultz 2001.

12

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

ignore that indivisibility can be a social reality, even if it is not an objective one. Territory may always be divisible in theory, but if territorial claims are irreconcilable both to observers and antagonists then it is indivisible in practice – and thus it’s a phenomenon social scientists should want to explain. Moreover, neither of these theories sufficiently explains why indivisibility varies across time and space. Territory varies in its divisibility even as the commitment problem remains constant. For example, territorial settlements between the Israelis and Palestinians have appeared far more feasible when Jerusalem is not on the bargaining table; yet a focus on the commitment problem would suggest similar behavior regardless of the territorial stakes. Reputation mechanisms too have a difficult time explaining variation in territorial indivisibility. Although England was concerned about imperial integrity, it was willing to give Canada dominion status within the empire; such a compromise was not so forthcoming in Ireland. Similarly, Austria ultimately negotiated away its Italian provinces, even at the risk of sending a signal to Hungarians and other ethnic groups in its multinational empire. In a more contemporary example, Slobodan Milosevic allowed Slovenia to secede with relatively little fighting; his stance on Kosovo proved far more rigid. These theories also have difficulty explaining why a territory’s divisibility might vary over time. The central question of this book is how territory becomes indivisible: why an issue is negotiable at one point in time, and yet not at another. We are not just interested in explaining bargaining failure, but bargaining transformation. But under anarchy, both commitment and reputation mechanisms are fairly constant. Under anarchy, when would actors not face a commitment or reputation problem? Thus, although commitment and reputation mechanisms undoubtedly undermine bargaining under anarchy, they do not provide an exhaustive explanation of indivisible territory. Constructing Indivisibility: The Power of Identity in Territorial Disputes In contrast to rationalist approaches, some scholars adopt constructivist theories to explain indivisible issues, theories that emphasize identity and culture as the cause of indivisible disputes. These theorists argue that objective value rarely explains why conflict breaks out territory.42 Rather, as Richard Mansbach and Vasquez assert, the more symbolic or 42

See, e.g., Murphy 1990. See also Newman 1999; Toft 2003, Chapter 1.

Introduction

13

transcendent stakes are tied to territorial issues, the more intractable these disputes appear.43 When an issue is imbued with cultural importance, becomes tied to an actor’s identity, or if there are ideas or norms that proscribe division, the issue at stake is more likely to be indivisible.44 Under these conditions, the issue’s value is literally subjective – it is tied to the self – leaving actors unable to divide these issues through partition, shared sovereignty, or other mechanisms. According to constructivist theories, when actors identify with territory, it possesses a qualitatively different value, one that is not subject to a common metric of measurement. Although more objective resources, such as currency, “can be exchanged and mobilized . . . Cultural resources lack such a medium of exchange,” and thus cannot be divided through common mechanisms.45 It is not just that identity gives territory greater value, in the way that gold is worth more than silver. Rather, identity imbues territory with an incommensurable or nonfungible value.46 It is this lack of fungibility that eliminates mechanisms of division, and creates indivisible conflict. In the modern world, scholars argue that national and religious identities are most likely to drive indivisible territorial disputes. Territory lies “at the heart of national identity and cohesion, with the very existence and autonomy of a state being rooted in its territory.”47 According to Rodney Bruce Hall, it was the emergence “in the late nineteenth century, of national-sovereign identity and interests” that constructed territory as inalienable from the nation and undermined the territorial horse-trading practiced by absolutist states.48 Not only states but empires were also affected by nationalist claims: as Lustick argues, the more the colonized “periphery” became tied to core, the more it was considered indivisible from the imperial state.49 Nationalism creates indivisible civil conflicts as well. Because ethnic groups view territory as a homeland, “not an object to be exchanged but an indivisible attribute of group identity,” they will pursue violent secessionist claims that rip apart the fabric of the state.50

43

44 45 46 47 48 49 50

Mansbach and Vasquez 1981. See also Newman 1999; Diehl 1999; O’Lear et al. 2005; Hensel and Mitchell 2005. See, e.g., Hall 1999; Kniss 1996; Hassner 2003; Toft 2002, 2003. Kniss 1996, 8. Ibid.; Hassner 2003. Hensel 1999, 117. E.g., Hall 1999, 7. Lustick 1993a. Toft 2003, 20.

14

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

Constructivists also argue that religious claims can create indivisible territory. When territory takes on religious value what was once empty space becomes sacred, of immeasurable value, and absolutely nonnegotiable. In his study of ideas and symbols, Fred Kniss argues that religious resources “have a unique character because, compared to material and political resources, they are indivisible and lack a commensurable medium of exchange such as money or votes.”51 Hassner contends that all sacred spaces are, by definition, indivisible, “because sacred places involve religious ideals, divine presence, absolute and transcendent values, there is no room for compromise and no substitute for the disputed space. This creates an indivisibility problem, a situation rare in territorial conflicts.”52 These identity-oriented explanations are intuitively satisfying, in part because they echo the sentiments of the combatants themselves. Ethnic homelands and sacred spaces are of inconceivable value. Empirically identity claims are more likely to fuel territorial disputes. They are responsible for more wars than conflicts over territory with economic or strategic value.53 However, although these constructivist theories are insightful, they are ultimately insufficient explanations of indivisibility. In fact, they share a similar problem with bargaining theories – constructivists have difficulty explaining variation in indivisibility across time and space. In the age of nationalism, for example, there have been far more divisions of territory than these theories would suggest.54 The Rhineland, a source of indivisible conflict between France and Germany for almost one hundred years, became negotiable in the years after World War II. In Belgium, conflict between Flemings and Walloons appeared indivisible after 1945; yet a consociational government has divided power among these parties. Nor do religious claims automatically spawn indivisible conflict. Early Israeli leaders, for instance, believed exclusive sovereignty over Jerusalem to be impossible precisely because it was a sacred space – no one government could possibly claim to rule over a sacred space with any legitimacy.55 This is not to say that religion and nationalism do not provoke territorial disputes, and identity plays a central role in the study here. But many 51 52 53 54

55

Kniss 1996, 21. Hassner 2003, 33. Diehl 1999, 3–36. Goertz and Diehl 1992. For a discussion of the outcomes of territorial conflict from 1815 to 1992, see Hensel 1999. See Chapter 5 for a discussion of this point.

Introduction

15

constructivists have oversimplified the relationship between identity and indivisible conflict. Identity is not simply a variable, whose presence or absence determines the likelihood of indivisible conflict. Identities are more complex. At any given time, individuals juggle multiple identities, and it is not easy to predict why certain identities will become more salient than others. Identities, moreover, only have power when actors make claims in their name. The presence of an identity is not enough. It is how actors choose to invoke that identity that gives it political power. Because of this, even when religious and national identities are at stake, politicians can find room to maneuver and compromise. Identities can be manipulated in ways that either allow for a legitimate settlement, or else render the dispute indivisible. To explain indivisibility, therefore, the link between identity and territory cannot be assumed; why and under what conditions politicians deploy certain identities must be explained. In sum, although both bargaining and identity theories provide insight into territorial disputes and war, neither advances a convincing explanation of indivisibility. On the one hand, bargaining theory assumes away the problem of indivisibility and fails to acknowledge that indivisibility can be a social, if not objective, reality. On the other hand identity theories ignore the fact that identity is often used for political and strategic reasons, and thus does not in and of itself determine the divisibility of an issue. And finally, neither theory is able to answer why issues change over time: why territory can be negotiable at one point in time and become indivisible at another. Explaining this change is the key to understanding indivisibility. This book argues that whether territory becomes indivisible depends on how actors legitimate their claims to territory during the bargaining process. By resonating with some coalitions and not others, legitimation strategies either build ties between coalitions, allowing each side to recognize the legitimacy of each other’s claims, or else lock actors into bargaining positions that leave them unable to recognize any other demand to territory as legitimate. Over time, legitimation strategies create increasingly narrow claims to territory and construct territory as indivisible. The theory shares several characteristics with rationalist theories. For one, elites are key actors in the theory. Political elites choose rhetoric at critical junctures that determines whether territory becomes indivisible. This is not to say that the general public is not important; domestic audiences place important constraints on elites as they negotiate. However, I follow rationalists in arguing that it is elites – and in particular, only those with certain social positions – that have the authority to create

16

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

indivisible territory. The theory here also shares the rationalist assumption that elites behave strategically. The legitimation process described here is strategic, with actors framing issues in ways that advance their own material interests. Elites may choose legitimation strategies designed to build domestic support, to coerce opponents into making concessions, and to feign inflexibility at the bargaining table. In each of these cases, rhetoric is designed to further politicians’ agendas both at home and abroad. Finally, the legitimation theory posits that politicians treat territory as indivisible largely because of political constraints. Once they have established a legitimate position, political elites will not defect for fear of punishment, be it losing the next election or assassination. In many ways, then, the legitimation theory adopts the sensibilities of rationalist theories. But there are critical areas in which my theory of indivisibility parts ways with rationalist accounts. First, cultural content matters in this theory. Elites cannot pull rhetorical claims out of thin air. If elites are to use rhetoric successfully, then it must be consistent with the existing culture, with the accepted myth-symbol complex. If elites fail to use language that resonates with their audience, then their attempts to gain a strategic advantage will fail. My theory also sees a different role for rhetoric than rationalist theories propose. Rationalists argue that they have been unfairly charged with not paying attention to rhetoric.56 To an extent they are right. Rationalists believe that language is critical to revealing information. Many if not most rationalists stress the importance of the signaling process, in which actors communicate their preferences, how much risk they are willing to accept during negotiations, and which settlements they would find acceptable. The theory here goes beyond this. Rhetoric not only reveals information; it can fundamentally transform an actor’s environment. As constructivists argue, rhetoric can create and redraw boundaries among groups, and in the process produce entirely new social identities. These new identities, I argue, are critical to explaining how it is territory becomes indivisible. Finally, like constructivists, I argue that legitimacy has an independent role in the bargaining process, one that is not reducible to interest. True, territory becomes indivisible when elites face political costs to reaching a settlement. But these constraints are not only material. It is not only the fear of losing an election that keeps politicians from bargaining. The fear of losing legitimacy, of undermining those principles that justify a 56

See, e.g., Fearon and Wendt 2002.

Introduction

17

politician’s authority as a political actor, also constrains elites at the bargaining table. In essence, I address the indivisibility dilemma with a synthesis of rationalist and constructivist theories. This in and of itself is not new; there have been numerous calls for international relation theorists to recognize the complementary features of these theories.57 What will be more unfamiliar to political scientists is the way in which legitimation theory accomplishes this synthesis. In the next chapter I show how social network theory can be used to produce a theory that takes both interests and ideas seriously. 57

Ibid.

2 Constructing Indivisibility A Legitimation Theory of Indivisible Territory

introduction In the last chapter I argued that although rational choice and constructivist theories provide important insights into territorial disputes, neither sufficiently explains how territory becomes an indivisible issue. Rational choice theories assume away the problem of indivisibility, reducing it to mechanisms within the bargaining process. In doing so, they fail to acknowledge that indivisibility can be a social, if not objective, reality. At the same time, constructivist theories are overly determinative, reducing indivisibility to ethnic and religious attachments to territory. Yet because identity can be used for political and strategic reasons, it cannot in and of itself determine the divisibility of territory. I propose indivisibility is constructed through the legitimation process.1 Whether territory appears indivisible depends on how actors legitimate their claims to territory during negotiations. Although actors choose their rhetoric strategically, in order to gain a political advantage at the bargaining table, legitimation strategies have unintended structural consequences. By resonating with some actors and not others, legitimation strategies either build ties between coalitions and allow each side to recognize the legitimacy of each other’s claims, or lock actors into bargaining positions where they are unable to recognize the legitimacy of their opponent’s demands. When the latter happens, actors come to

1

My understanding of the legitimation process draws from Bourdieu 1994; Weber 1978; Habermas 1998; Cruz 2000. For other studies of legitimation strategies and their effects, see Krebs 2006; Jackson 2006; Jackson and Krebs 2007; Bially Mattern 2001.

18

Constructing Indivisibility

19

negotiations with incompatible claims, constructing the territory as indivisible. The argument here intersects with a growing theoretical literature that emphasizes the importance of rhetoric and legitimacy in international politics.2 Elites’ legitimation strategies either expand the range of possible settlements by convincing others that their claims are legitimate, or else diminish room for compromise by appearing illegitimate to adversaries.3 But it is not enough to assert that legitimation strategies construct territory as indivisible; we need to identify the causal mechanisms involved in this process. To do so, we must answer three questions. First, what makes a particular claim legitimate? Why is it that audiences accept some politicians’ claims as legitimate, while other arguments are rejected outright? Second, why do actors choose certain legitimation strategies? What motivates politicians to choose some legitimation strategies and not others? Finally, how is it that legitimation strategies have a blowback effect that locks actors into inflexible positions? Why do actors, who had the power to choose legitimation strategies at one point in time, find themselves trapped into positions where compromise is impossible? To answer these questions, I use a social network approach to legitimation strategies. Social network approaches conceive of actors as embedded within a series of social and cultural ties with other actors, coalitions, and institutions. From this fairly simple foundation, the chapter here develops answers to the three questions presented above. First, whether claims are legitimate depends on how they resonate within existing political networks. This, in turn, depends on how the politician is positioned in a set of social and cultural networks. Second, network theory suggests that some actors have a range of legitimation strategies from which to choose. This proposition opens up the possibility that politicians can behave strategically – they are not forced to use rhetoric, but can pick legitimation strategies that best serve their interests. Finally, networks determine the effects of legitimation strategies as well. How legitimation strategies transform bargaining depends not on an actor’s own interest or ideology, but rather how rhetoric interacts with existing networks. It is how legitimation strategies resonate within networks that determines the divisibility of territory. Legitimation strategies, in particular, have structural effects,

2

3

For other studies that stress the strategic nature of the legitimation process, see Hurd 2005; Krebs 2006; Goddard 2009. Legitimation strategies are path-dependent: the use of legitimations at one point in time influence those used later on. See Tilly 1998; Cruz 2000; and Elster 1989, 128.

20

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

figure 2.1. Actors embedded in a network.

transforming political networks in ways that either expand the legitimate range of compromise, or eliminate common ground among actors.

network theory: an overview Like constructivism or rational choice approaches, social network analysis is not a single theory, but a set of theories that share fundamental assumptions.4 For network theorists it is the relations among actors that are causally significant.5 Network theories begin neither at the microlevel of individual interests nor with the macrolevel of society, but with the “mesolevel” of networks, the numerous relations in which actors are embedded. Following Charles Tilly, networks are “continuing series of transactions to which participants attach shared understandings, memories, forecasts, rights, and obligations.”6 Networks are a structural representation of relations among actors, a simple example of which is given in Figure 2.1. In this network, each of the circles represents an actor, and the lines connecting the actors represent continuing transactions among the actors. The actors within the network are defined empirically. Depending 4

5 6

Many social network theorists name Georg Simmel as foundational. See Simmel 1968; Simmel 1990. For a discussion of social network theory, see e.g., Abbot 1995; Burt 1980, 1992, 2004, 2005; Emirbayer and Goodwin 1994; Gould and Fernandez 1986; McAdam 1986; McAdam and Paulsen 1993; Padgett and Ansell 1993; Wellman 1983; White 1995. Emirbayer and Goodwin 1994, 1414. Tilly 1998, 456.

Constructing Indivisibility

21

on the subject being researched, they may be individuals, coalitions, institutions, or states. Networks contain both social and cultural elements. An actor’s network represents concrete, material transactions. As such, these social networks can be mapped out by tracing these transactions, such as financial flows, diplomatic transactions, or kinship ties. Networks, however, cannot be reduced to their material properties. The transactions that constitute a network are imbued with shared understandings, symbols, and collective memories.7 This culture is stored in different ways, and can be more or less institutionalized. One-time interactions between individuals may leave only a fleeting cognitive impression. A nation, however, stores its memories and symbols in schools, rituals, monuments, archives, and oral and written narratives.8 Social life is filled with networks. The market, for instance, is a network of economic transactions. At the heart of a market are exchanges among individuals. More developed, a market includes constant, multiple transactions among actors, most notably firms; these transactions are often hierarchic, as the market tends towards oligarchy. Institutions such as trade organizations and central banks facilitate and formalize economic relations. Because the market is so accepted in modern society, its discursive properties are often overlooked. Yet the market’s most essential elements are cultural: money and credit, for instance, would be useless if they lacked the common and agreed upon value that makes them effective exchange mechanisms.9 Networks define domestic and international politics as well. In domestic politics actors operate within networks of coalitions, maintaining ties with political parties, interests groups, and institutions. And although it is common to portray international politics as anarchic, networks abound, in the temporary ties that define alliance partners, for example, or the more institutionalized relations at the core of the European Union. These political networks contain symbolic elements, cultural tropes that define appropriate behavior, preferences, and legitimate authority in domestic and international affairs. The above discussion simply redescribes political systems as networkbased; if this were the end of network analysis, it would hardly be of 7 8

9

Mische and White 1998; Tilly 1998; White 1995; Bearman 1993. Margaret Archer argues that combining structure and culture is a “central conflation.” I contend that whether or not culture and structure are distinct depends on the question addressed. See Archer 1989. Simmel 1990; Zelizer 1997.

22

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

interest to political scientists. But as David Knoke and James Kuklinski argue, “network analysis contains a further explicit premise of great consequence: the structure of relations among actors and the location of individual actors in the network have important behavioral, perceptual, and attitudinal consequences for both the individual units and for the system as a whole.”10 By mapping networks, analysts hope to produce causal explanations of social outcomes. Yet how networks influence social action is a point of dispute. Some network theorists are structural determinists; individual actors are automatons, responding to their network position rather than reconfiguring the structure itself. Other network theorists emphasize form over content, ignoring the symbolic and cultural attributes of networks and focusing instead on how material transactions shape social interaction. Network approaches that analyze both material and cultural networks, and hold that both structure and agency are important, hold the most promise for a theory of indivisibility.11 This variation of network theory, which Mustafa Emirbayer and Jeff Goodwin call structural constructionism, “investigates the constraining and enabling dimensions of patterned relationships among social actors within a system.”12 In the theory here, networks are enabling because they provide the resources to make legitimate claims to territory. Because networks contain the resources to make a variety of legitimate claims, they also allow politicians to engage in strategic behavior, choosing the claim that best meets their interests. Networks have a constraining effect as well. Under some conditions, legitimation strategies reconfigure networks in such a way as to lock politicians into positions where they are unable to compromise. Legitimation Strategies Practically every negotiation in international politics involves a contentious legitimation process. It is not enough for an actor to state his preferences; behind every claim to an issue, every demand for a settlement, is a rationale explaining why an audience should accept a particular bargaining position as legitimate. And it is during this process that 10 11

12

Knoke and Kuklinski 1982, 13. In their critical overview of network analysis, Emirbayer and Goodwin (1994) describe three models of network analysis: structural determinism, structural instrumentalism, and structural constructionism. It is structural constructivism, which uses cultural and social networks to explain processes of change, developed here. Emirbayer and Goodwin, 1994, 1418.

Constructing Indivisibility

23

actors can become locked into incompatible claims. How actors choose to legitimate their interests can create or destroy the possibility of division. An actor’s legitimation strategy can either expand the bargaining space among actors by convincing others of their legitimacy, or diminish room for compromise by appearing illegitimate to adversaries. By legitimation strategies, I mean the use of public and recognized reasons in order to justify a claim to an issue.13 Concretely, legitimation strategies are often identified with actors’ rhetoric. While bargaining, actors attempt to legitimate their claims with reasons that should be objectively accepted. For instance, democratic leaders use popular legitimacy and majority rule to justify some policies and not others. When bargaining over territory, adversaries may try to establish legitimacy by arguing who inhabited the land first, who cultivated the soil, or who built the greatest civilization.14 International relations scholars have long noted the importance of legitimacy in world politics.15 Mlada Bukovansky argues that the French Revolution was important because it challenged the legitimacy of the international system – it overturned the normative rules that underpinned the eighteenth century’s balance of power.16 Rodney Bruce Hall attributes international systemic change to a series of legitimation crises – political units, be they dynastic states or nations, change when their legitimacy is undermined.17 Although legitimacy may seem intuitively important, what makes any particular claim legitimate is difficult to conceptualize. Legitimacy is not constant; empirically what is considered legitimate varies widely across time and space. Throughout history several violent acts have been legitimated in the name of God, for instance, and we cannot tell which was considered legitimate simply by noting the invocation of a divine being. Moreover, many explanations of legitimacy approach tautology: we only know what is legitimate by what audiences ultimately accept as justified. How then can we explain why certain claims are accepted as legitimate? Drawing from social network theory, whether an actor’s claim is legitimate depends on her position in an existing set of social and cultural 13 14

15

16 17

See Elster 1995. Toft (2002, 2003) also argues legitimacy is integral to territorial bargaining, but treats legitimacy as objective and constant. In his classical realist work, Hans Morgenthau devoted an entire chapter to explaining how justifications influence power in international politics. See Morgenthau 1953. Bukovansky 2002. Hall 1999.

24

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

networks. Two factors are important: the context in which the claim is made, and the position of the actor using the strategy. Context and Resonance First, whether an actor’s claim is legitimate depends on whether it resonates with existing social and cultural networks. If rhetoric is to appeal to an audience, it must appear to have pertinence, relevance, or significance with the targeted group.18 This concept of resonance underpins numerous studies of identity and conflict. In the literature on ethnic politics, scholars argue that ideas will resonate if they are consistent with an existing myth-symbol complex – that is to say, if they incorporate symbols and language institutionalized within the society. Stuart Kaufman, for example, notes that a politician’s ability to manipulate the public into a conflict depends on whether she uses symbols dominant in the group’s myth-symbol complex.19 What these scholars describe as a myth-symbol complex is analyzed here as a series of social and cultural networks. Whether a strategy – such as violence “in the name of God” – is legitimate depends on social networks within a society. In European international relations up to at least the seventeenth century most if not all political violence was legitimated in the name of God, not surprising given that a confessional network of institutions was the basis on which to conduct political affairs.20 But where most political networks are relatively secular, as in the postEnlightenment West, such legitimation strategies are less likely to succeed. The symbolic content of these networks matters as well – history and culture also restrict the range of legitimation strategies. Slobodan Milosevic’s choice of the Field of Blackbirds to make his appeal to the Serbian public was not coincidental: the Field of Blackbirds, the site of the legendary last stand against the Ottoman Turks in 1389, is deeply embedded within Serbian nationalist history. Network patterns determine the degree of resonance as well. Some social and cultural networks are more institutionalized than others. For example, if a claim appeals to a cultural narrative that is recorded in writing, repeated in textbooks and immortalized in museums, it is likely to resonate strongly with an audience.21 In contrast, if histories only exist 18 19 20 21

Kniss 1996, 10. See also Emirbayer and Goodwin 1994, 1440. Kaufman 2001, 2006. See also Smith 1986, 1999. Nexon 2009. On variations in collective memory, see Olick and Robbins 1998; Olick 2008.

Constructing Indivisibility

25

in oral tradition, they are more likely to fade over time and less likely to provoke resonant claims. Similarly, there might be a hierarchy of content within a social-cultural network. The United States’ culture contains the rhetoric of both individualism and of collective responsibility, but the former is often extolled at the expense of the latter. This suggests that the rhetoric of individualism is far more likely to resonate than appeals to collective action.22 Understanding legitimacy as bound by social and cultural networks has three implications for the theory of indivisibility developed here. First, politicians should not be able to use legitimation strategies at will. They should find that networks constrain their rhetoric, and if they go outside the dominant narrative, their claims should not succeed. Second, in any bargaining situation which claims are actually legitimate is a matter of dispute. A claim’s legitimacy depends on the relative positions of the parties involved. Whether it is legitimate to fly the Confederate flag, for example, is contingent and depends on the interpreter’s position. In the debate over the appropriateness of displaying the Confederate flag lie two incommensurable interpretations of that symbol’s meaning.23 Finally, by using network theory, whether an audience will perceive a claim as legitimate can be established before the rhetoric is even used. Most notably, content analysis – a method for measuring the presence of symbols in a society – can be used to establish the strength of particular rhetorical tropes, and thus the chance that a legitimation strategy will resonate with an audience. Analysts can look at newspapers, history textbooks, public debates, any number of documents to discern the dominant discourses embedded within social networks. By doing so, network theory can avoid the tautology problem often associated with studies of legitimacy. Legitimacy and Position Second, legitimacy is positional. Whether an actor can make a claim depends on how she is embedded in surrounding social and cultural networks. This is a fairly intuitive observation. My position as a professor gives me a fair amount of legitimate authority over my students. Other

22 23

See e.g., Markus 2001. David Firestone, The New South: Old Times There are not Forgotten. New York Times, January, 28, 2001. Available at http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res= 9D05E2DB123FF93BA15752C0A9679C8B63. Accessed September 22, 2008.

26

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

actors are situated in networks that give them the right to order a military mobilization or make claims to defend Jerusalem.24 Variation in an actor’s position influences the resonance of her claims. For instance, whether an actor’s ties within a network are dense or sparse can influence the legitimacy of a claim.25 Increased density, network theorists argue, creates social capital, trust, and generally increases an actor’s influence over her audience. In contrast the fewer the ties, or the weaker the ties, the less influence an actor will have, and thus less legitimacy. So, for example, U.S. presidential candidate John Kerry might have legitimated his economic plan in the language of the working class, but his own social position left audiences skeptical of his claims. Whether an actor can use a legitimation strategy also depends on whether she is centrally located or on the margins of that network. Politicians who are on the margins of a political network will find their claims dismissed as illegitimate. Those skeptical of whether Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas has the authority to reach a legitimate settlement with the Israelis rightly point to his lack of ties with Islamic nationalists, particularly the supporters of Hamas. Without these ties, he is unlikely to legitimate a settlement.26 Furthermore, actors who have ties with multiple networks are more likely to have more flexibility in how they legitimate their claims at the bargaining table. From a network theory perspective, actors can be embedded in multiple social and cultural networks, and as a result, have a choice of legitimation strategies. Although there are risks to doing so, these actors often use several legitimating strategies at the same time, in order to appeal to a larger audience.27 For example, in the mid-nineteenth century, Napoleon III justified his rule of France both in reference to an 1852 plebiscite, and through his relations to Napoleon Bonaparte. As a result, he could choose between two exclusive legitimation strategies, depending on his audience. If he was speaking to fellow dynasts, such as Austrian diplomats, he would emphasize imperial legitimacy; if he were speaking to nationalist leaders, he would rely on the rhetoric of popular rule.28 24 25 26 27

28

See Bourdieu 1994, 74; and Cruz 2000. Bearman 1993; Gould 1991; Kim and Bearman 1997; McAdam 1986. See e.g., Gunning 2004, 2008; Milton-Edwards and Crooke 2004. It might be argued that speaking to different sides undermines that speaker’s credibility. However, network theory suggests that audiences are inclined to accept these strategies as long as the speaker occupies the appropriate position. Padgett and Ansell 1993. See Echard 1983; and Baguley 2000, 118–50.

Constructing Indivisibility

27

When actors have a choice of legitimation strategies they may also use ambiguous claims that “can be interpreted coherently from multiple perspectives simultaneously,”29 and thus resonate with radically different coalitions. For example, Irish nationalists, such as Daniel O’Connell in the 1820s and Charles Stewart Parnell in the 1880s, were positioned at the intersection of republican nationalist movements on the one hand, and those who wanted constitutional reform within the British Empire on the other. To mobilize both coalitions, these elites used language that seemed to invoke republican and imperial rationales simultaneously. The fact that key actors have a choice in their legitimation strategy raises two questions important to a theory of indivisibility. First, why do actors choose particular legitimation strategies? If some actors have access to a range of legitimation strategies, this raises the question of why actors adopt some legitimation strategies and not others. Second, how do legitimation strategies lock actors into any particular position? Why is it that actors, who may choose legitimation strategies at one point in time, find themselves trapped into positions where compromise is impossible? Legitimacy and Bargaining In much of the social science literature, legitimation strategies are treated in one of two ways. Rationalists often view legitimacy as epiphenomenal. Strategic actors care little of legitimacy, would appeal to anything that would enable them to pursue their interests, and are likely to abandon the rhetoric of legitimacy once their aims are achieved. Moreover what constitutes a legitimate claim is often the decision of the powerful. The ideas are merely useful to the hegemon, and would disappear without the backing of material power.30 Thus, although actors may legitimate their actions, this is little more than window dressing; at most, this process reveals information about interests and type, but has no autonomous causal effect.31 Others, particularly constructivists, dispute this dismissal of legitimacy. During bargaining, actors may not be motivated by consequences but rather a logic of appropriateness that dictates a particular strategy.32 Within every society, actors are constrained by norms that 29 30

31 32

Padgett and Ansell 1993, 1263. The view that ideas and legitimacy are simply the tools of the powerful are found in Western Marxist thinking as well as in the work of realists in international relations. This argument is associated with work on “cheap talk.” March and Olsen 1989. On legitimacy and constructivism, see Hall 1999; and Bukovansky 2002.

28

Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy

define appropriate rules of behavior and even the identities of actors themselves. In following social norms, therefore, actors are compelled to accept legitimate bargains and reject illegitimate ones, even if this undermines their material interests. Despite their substantive differences, these approaches share a strict dichotomy between interests and power on the one hand and legitimacy on the other. Other theorists in international relations have rejected this dichotomy, and argue that legitimacy and strategy are intertwined. Ian Hurd, for example, argues that weak states can use symbols of liberal internationalism to pursue their interests, and challenge materially stronger states in the international system.33 Janice Bially Mattern likewise posits that soft power – the power found in language and ideas – is not so soft, and can be used to coerce opponents. In the domestic sphere, Ronald Krebs argues that minority groups can strategically deploy rhetoric about their military service in order to legitimate their claims to full citizenship.34 I, too, see legitimacy as integral to strategic interaction. An actor’s choice of legitimation strategies is a product of both ideas and interests. Following bargaining approaches, I argue that actors choose their legitimations strategically; they are, in Consuelo Cruz’s terms, effective users of legitimacy, deploying strategies likely to fulfill their political interests.35 Although the approach here emphasizes strategic interests, it also departs from rational choice studies. As argued earlier, the use of rhetoric is constrained by social and cultural networks. The legitimation strategy depends not only on interests, but on her set of social and cultural ties with surrounding coalitions and institutions. Moreover, legitimation strategies are more than cheap talk; they have structural effects – once used, they have causal effects not reducible to interests. Indeed, under some conditions legitimation strategies can have a lock-in effect, one that ultimately constrains actors from pursuing their interests. The Strategy of Legitimacy There are three ways legitimation strategies can give a politician an advantage over an opponent. First, actors use legitimation strategies for coalitional outbidding. As argued by William Riker, actors may redefine 33 34 35

Hurd 2005. Krebs 2006. Cruz 2000.

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29

“the political situation so that formerly unsympathetic competition wish to stand with the erstwhile disadvantaged.”36 For instance, Milosevic’s appeals to nationalism were designed to redefine a domestic debate to his advantage. By acting as the protector of the Serbs and steering the debate away from economic and political issues, Milosevic ensured electoral support.37 These same dynamics apply in international relations as well. As minister-president, Prussia’s Otto von Bismarck used a combination of national and dynastic rhetoric to justify his invasion of Denmark; in doing so, he “outbid” Denmark, and damaged that state’s alliances with Britain and Russia.38 Second, actors choose legitimation strategies designed to undermine or delegitimate the demands of their opponents. After World War II, for example, colonies used arguments of self-determination against imperial powers, arguing powers like Great Britain and France were undermining their legitimacy as liberal nations.39 In contemporary U.S. domestic politics, accusations of being soft on terror are used to delegitimate foreign policy positions.40 By showing other claims are illegitimate, actors hope to undercut support for a position, and ideally build a new majority coalition for their claim. Finally, legitimation strategies can serve as a rhetorical commitment device. As Thomas Schelling and others have argued, there are benefits to tying one’s hands at the bargaining table. By doing so, an actor hopes to force the other side to compromise, rather than accept negotiation failure. But making these commitments requires more than costly signaling. An actor must convince his opponent that the interest at risk is of significant value. To take Schelling’s example, to make its promise to use nuclear weapons credible, the United States had to convince the Soviets that its interest in Berlin was as legitimate and real as its interests in California and New York.41 Overall, by defining interests as legitimate, actors can use normative reasons to appear irrevocably committed to a position. The legitimation process thus is deeply political. It is a multilevel game among politicians, in which they search for legitimation strategies that will appeal to some audiences, will undercut others, and, in essence, will fulfill their political interest. One implication of this is that changes in 36 37 38 39 40 41

Riker 1986, 35. Gagnon 1995. Mosse 1958; Goddard 2009. See Jackson 1990; and Lustick 1993a. Krebs and Lobasz, 2007. Schelling 1966, 55–57.

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legitimation strategies are likely when actors believe they can gain an advantage over an opponent. Actors losing a debate are likely to reframe the issue if they believe it will change the outcome of negotiations; losers have “an incentive to repackage the issues so that they come together in a way that turns the tables.”42 Each of these hypotheses is compatible with rational choice approaches. However, the theory goes beyond interest-based explanations in conceiving of an autonomous role for legitimacy in the bargaining process. First, as argued earlier, actors do not choose legitimation strategies at will. Their choice is not reducible to interests, but depends on an actor’s position in sociocultural networks, which limits the range of justifications and the flexibility of actors. Despite these constraints, if the outcomes of bargaining remain consistent with rationalist explanations, legitimation strategies are still epiphenomenal, providing no additional explanatory power. In contrast, I argue legitimation strategies have autonomous and unanticipated structural effects on bargaining. Rationalist approaches cannot adequately explain these effects. For one issues, strategies, and even actors themselves are not static in a network model. Rather, legitimation strategies construct these fundamental elements of strategic interactions. Yet such fluidity creates problems for rational choice models. These models are exceptionally good at predicting strategies and outcomes when the rules of the game are defined and static. Yet as game theorists themselves argue, these models are less useful when explaining changes within the game itself.43 As territory moves from divisible to indivisible, this is exactly the process we are trying to capture. It is not only that negotiations change over time. Legitimation strategies transform territory in unanticipated ways, creating outcomes not reducible to interest. Actors certainly try to foresee the long-term effects of their strategies, and often produce reasonable calculations about outcomes. Ultimately, however, two factors hinder prediction and create unanticipated consequences. First, during the legitimation process actors often lack the necessary information needed to predict the long-term consequences of legitimation strategies. There are cost-benefit tradeoffs to information searches; waiting to choose a strategy before gathering all possible information about long-term effects might simply be an irrational cost. These information problems are exacerbated in complex 42 43

See McLean 2001, 10; Riker 1986, 1. Binmore 1990.

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legitimation processes, where actors must gather information about multiple audiences. Second, and more importantly, during bargaining actors may fail to predict the structural effects of their actions. Political agents use legitimation strategies in complex structures of coalitions, institutions, and culture. Within these complicated systems, legitimations resonate in ways that are structurally mediated, indirect, and often not understood by the actors themselves, creating “many paths to unanticipated consequences.”44 In essence, legitimation strategies interact with extant structures in unpredictable ways – actors have no way to predict the myriad ways that structures will intervene in their interests, creating outcomes no one intended. In fact, depending on how legitimation strategies resonate within this system of coalitions, they can fundamentally transform bargaining and, in the process, the divisibility of the issue. Most importantly, legitimation strategies’ structural consequences can create a lock-in effect, trapping actors into positions where they can no longer treat other claims to territory as legitimate, even if actors have an interest in finding a settlement to a dispute. When this happens, all mechanisms of division are removed, constituting territory as indivisible.

legitimacy, networks, and structural effects The idea that actors can become locked into their own rhetoric is nothing new. Theorists have long hypothesized that actors’ prior claims limit settlements in the future. Jack Snyder, for instance, argues rationalizations have a blowback effect. Once groups rally around an issue, they are not easily demobilized. In fact, leaders may even come to believe their own rhetoric.45 Similarly, James Fearon and Jon Elster contend strategic arguments can raise audience costs, punishing actors that defect from a position, particularly in democracies.46 Although these blowback arguments may be plausible, they miss the mechanisms that actually lock actors into claims. Why is it actors that have flexibility to choose strategies at one point in time become so constrained later on? Some mechanisms seem inconsistent. Why is it, for instance, that a domestic audience easily manipulated in the past 44 45 46

Jervis 1997, 18. Snyder 1991. See Elster 1995; and Fearon 1994.

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now cannot be demobilized? Moreover, many blowback theories fail to explain variation in the effects of rhetoric, how some strategies trap actors, while others fail to exert any form of commitment. Constructivists recently have proposed some mechanisms that might explain blowback, such as norm-internalization or persuasion. Although these mechanisms are plausible, none seem applicable to periods of short-term strategic interaction, where deep cognitive change is unlikely.47 Any theory of indivisibility thus needs to develop convincing mechanisms of lock-in. Within the social sciences, there is an increasingly large literature on the structural effects of rhetoric and legitimation strategies. Symbolic interactionists argue that actors adopt frames strategically, based on their social environment, and that these frames in turn affect bargaining power.48 Similarly, from a rational choice perspective, Riker notes the heresthetic value of arguments is often overlooked. Arguments can realign coalitions and institutions, altering the bargaining structure and changing possible outcomes.49 Recently it is within social network theory that the structural mechanisms driving the legitimation process have been most clearly elucidated.50 In brief, network theorists posit claims have switching effects. Depending on how arguments resonate within a network of coalitions, they can make certain ties stronger by appearing legitimate to particular coalitions, and sever ties by appearing illegitimate to others.51 Once this switching process occurs, it alters the structure of the game. Actors are left with a fundamentally different set of ties, a process that changes actors, strategies, and issues. Following network theorists, I argue legitimation strategies transform networks of coalitions during the bargaining process. Legitimation strategies, to be clear, are not the only cause of coalitional change during negotiations, nor are they the only source of switching effects. Other bargaining strategies can change the structure of coalitions and outcomes. Rather it is the combination of legitimation strategies and switching processes that 47 48

49 50

51

See Wendt 1994, 1999; Risse 2000; and Checkel 2001; c.f. Finnemore and Sikkink 1998. See Blumer 1969; and Goffman 1969, 1974. For symbolic interactionism in international relations, see Jervis 1989; and Wendt 1999. For uses in negotiation theory, see McCombs 1981; Schon and Rein 1994; and Snow et al. 1986. Riker 1986. See also Schattschneider 1960; Jervis 1989; and Schelling 1960, 1966. As noted earlier, the literature on network theory is extensive and diverse. See Simmel 1968 and 1990; Abbot 1995; Bearman 1993; Burt 1992; Emirbayer and Goodwin 1994; Granovetter 1985; Jackson and Nexon 1999; McAdam and Paulsen 1993; Mische and White 1998; Padgett and Ansell 1993; Tilly 1998; and White 1995. See White 1995; Mische and White 1998; and Tilly 1998.

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creates indivisible conflict. In particular, three switching mechanisms – coalition mobilization, polarization, and yoking – alter the structural landscape of bargaining, strengthening some ties, severing others, and even creating entirely new coalitions. In doing so, these switching mechanisms change the range of legitimate claims. As actors become increasingly dependent on fewer coalitions, they lose flexibility at the bargaining table. At the extremes, actors negotiate themselves into a single, legitimate position, are structurally forced to reject all other claims as illegitimate, and construct the conflict as indivisible. Coalition Mobilization Under some conditions, legitimation strategies lead to coalition mobilization.52 When an actor’s legitimation resonates with a coalition, it activates and strengthens network ties between an actor and that coalition. As a result, coalition mobilization binds the actor more closely to the support of that group, strengthening the position of that coalition in negotiations. Coalition mobilization is likely under three conditions. First, there must be cultural harmony between the legitimation strategy and the targeted coalition. Networks of coalitions are not only material; they are imbued with different understandings, symbols, and collective memories.53 As network theorists note, legitimation strategies are far more likely to mobilize when they incorporate the cultural content embedded in a network of coalitions.54 For example, in the 1990s Croatia’s President Franjo Tudjman purposefully adopted the chessboard flag of the Ustashe, a symbol deeply embedded in radical nationalist Croatian networks – it had cultural harmony with the most extreme factions in Croatian society. Second, coalition mobilization depends on network density: the more numerous and stronger the ties are between an actor and a coalition, the more likely the legitimation strategy will resonate with and mobilize that coalition.55 As an earlier section argued, increased density provides an actor with social capital, trust, and generally increases an actor’s influence over her audience. Finally, an actor’s centrality in the network affects

52 53 54 55

See McAdam, Tilly, and Tarrow 2001, 43–45. See White 1995; Mische and White, 1998; and Bearman 1993. See McClean 1998; and Emirbayer and Goodwin 1994. See Gould 1991; McAdam 1986; Bearman 1993; and Kim and Bearman 1997.

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mobilization. If an actor has exclusive influence over a coalition, it is more likely a legitimation strategy will transform the structure of the game; in contrast, if multiple actors can sway a coalition, then countervailing appeals can undermine the legitimation strategy. For example, in 1972, during the first attempt at reaching a powersharing agreement in Northern Ireland, the head of Northern Ireland’s Unionist Party, Brian Faulkner, found himself unable to sell the agreement to radical Unionists (those parties that demanded continued Union with Britain). Faulkner’s attempts to legitimate the agreement proved ineffective; he lacked social ties with radical groups, and thus his appeals failed to resonate. In contrast, more than twenty-five years later a different Unionist leader, David Trimble, had strong ties with radical Unionist parties; he was indeed central to their leadership structure. His attempts to legitimate the 1998 Belfast Agreement – whose content was very similar to Faulkner’s agreement – succeeded. Trimble’s dense ties with radical groups, and his central position within them, gave him the position to legitimate a settlement.56 Coalition mobilization, therefore, depends on specific network conditions. This proposition creates hypotheses that diverge from rational choice theories. For example, if legitimations lack cultural harmony, they will fail to mobilize a coalition even if it is in that coalition’s interest to support the actor. Likewise, empirically, we should find cases in which actors accept arguments as legitimate despite their interest to the contrary. Similarly, coalitions react not only to the argument, but to the person making the claims – accordingly, a legitimation’s success should vary depending on whom is using it. From a network perspective, finally, coalition mobilization need not have been anyone’s intention. For reasons described above, actors cannot fully predict when and where legitimation strategies will resonate. Because of this, mobilization depends not only on the intent of the actor, but on the complex interplay between claims and network structures. Ultimately, these consequences have profound effects on indivisibility. By increasing an actor’s dependence on a coalition, mobilization can decrease flexibility at the bargaining table. Previously embedded in multiple coalitions, an actor becomes restricted to a single claim, and any deviation will appear to undermine his legitimacy. For example, Milosevic’s use of inflammatory rhetoric over Kosovo ultimately locked him into a coalition of extreme Serbian nationalists; as a result, he perceived that 56

This case is discussed in depth in Chapter 7.

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deviance from this strategy would lead to his delegitimation as a political actor. Tudjman’s reliance on Ustashe symbols had a similar result. In sum, by locking actors into single and incompatible claims, coalition mobilization can construct conflict as indivisible. Polarization Legitimation strategies also can produce polarization, a switching effect that severs ties between coalitions.57 When legitimation strategies fail to resonate with a coalition – when they appear illegitimate – this destroys network ties, widening “the political and social space between claimants in a contentious episode.”58 For example, after 1916 Sinn F´ein’s militant republican legitimation strategies appeared illegitimate to several audiences, and thus severed the party’s ties with British Liberals and moderate nationalists within Ireland. In the process, Sinn F´ein locked itself into a coalition composed only of revolutionary Irish republicans, a situation that ultimately and unexpectedly constrained Sinn F´ein when bargaining for Ireland’s independence.59 Not surprisingly, the conditions that produce polarization are practically opposite of those that cause mobilization. First, legitimation strategies polarize networks of coalitions if they are culturally dissonant. If an actor legitimates his claims through limited sets of cultural symbols – through rhetoric and history not shared by the coalitions – the strategy is likely to appear illegitimate. Second, network sparseness makes polarization more likely. When ties between an actor and another coalition are few, sporadic, and informal, it is likely that legitimation strategies can undercut these ties. Finally, polarization is likely when there are peripheral coalitions – when an actor has strong and central ties with one coalition, but weak and informal ties with another. Such structural imbalances are likely to induce peripheral pulls, where an actor’s legitimacy depends more on one coalition than another. Under these conditions, an actor will appeal to the more closely tied actor, even if this comes at the expense of other coalitions in his network. Each of these structural conditions produces unique hypotheses about legitimation strategies and polarization. For example, if legitimation 57 58 59

McAdam, Tilly, and Tarrow 2001, 322. Ibid., 25. See Larkin 1975, 1268; and Laffan 1999.

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strategies are dissonant, this can sever ties with coalitions that would have otherwise supported the actor. Similarly, this structural view suggests why bargaining can become polarized around small extremist coalitions that seem to represent a minority interest. Although lacking majority power, extremists often integrally bind themselves to ruling parties, forcing moderates to peripheral positions within a network of coalitions. In these cases, even if moderates constitute a majority, they may be marginalized – it is the weaker ties, and not the weaker actors, that are polarized in these disputes. Indeed, at these extremes, polarization changes the range of legitimation strategies and leads to indivisible conflict. An actor’s ability to make legitimate claims depends on her position – the number and type of coalitions in which she is embedded. When these ties are cut, actors have fewer options of legitimation strategies and less flexibility at the bargaining table. When actors become locked into a single coalition, their legitimation strategy is all but determined – the actor cannot recognize the legitimacy of other positions without undermining his own claims. Yoking A third switching mechanism is actor creation, known in the sociological literature as yoking.60 With yoking, legitimation strategies go beyond resonating with existing coalitions. Rhetoric instead provides a focal point around which new identities can form and coalesce. Actors themselves can be created and transformed during the course of strategic interaction. For example, Tilly argues that rhetoric can reconfigure social ties, demarcating new fault lines of ethnic identity and collective violence. Similarly, Daniel Nexon and Patrick Jackson propose that legitimation strategies both reproduce and change the boundaries of modern states.61 The concept of yoking builds off the idea that identities are fluid, and that rhetoric can create new social categories from what were once different sets of networks.62 For example, the rhetoric of American neoconservatism uses symbols that are at once both conservative (an emphasis on material force and security) with language that appeals to liberal internationalists, particularly in its support of spreading democracy abroad. 60 61 62

Abbot 1995. See Tilly 2003; and Jackson and Nexon 1999. This also echoes the claim, made by many students of nationalism, that national identities are not static, but rather categories composed from shifting patterns of interaction. See Brubaker 1996; Smith 2004; Tilly 2005.

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In doing so, the rhetoric created a distinct political identity, one that cut across traditional categories. Similarly, as discussed in greater detail later in the book, the rhetoric of Islamic nationalism combined what were two very ideologically different commitments; as a result, it resonated across a wide body of networks, and carved out a new identity in Middle Eastern politics. But not every attempt to combine networks succeeds. Yoking is possible only under two conditions. First, the actor must be an identity bridge; the actor must have strong ties to otherwise disparate elements, and thus be able to influence the identities of his audience. Without this bridging position, an actor will have little influence, and inventive legitimation strategies are likely to fall on deaf ears. However this structural position, although necessary, is not sufficient to explain yoking; actors may occupy a structural bridge and speak to multiple coalitions without ever suggesting these groups share an identity. To achieve yoking, the legitimation strategy also must be culturally inventive, combining existing symbols, histories, and rhetoric into new legitimation strategies. In doing so, these legitimation strategies can appeal across traditional boundaries and invoke entirely new identities. When both of these conditions hold legitimation strategies can yoke together new actors. For example, before unification, nationalists and conservatives in Germany were deeply divided. After 1871, however, Bismarck’s bridging position allowed him to strategically combine nationalist and conservative rhetoric, creating a novel conception of nationhood that would shape the course of modern German history.63 Similarly, as discussed in detail below, Ulster did not always exist as a coherent actor. It was the British deployment of Ulster Protestantism to legitimate their Irish policy that yoked this identity in the late nineteenth century. Yoking processes most clearly diverge from conventional approaches to bargaining. In suggesting that the very actors involved in negotiations can change during strategic interaction, network theorists contend it is not just that actors define the terms of the conflict; the conflict can transform the actors themselves. Moreover, as with the other mechanisms discussed here, these processes cannot be reduced to actor’s intent. Bismarck could not have predicted that conservative nationalism would redefine the identity of the German people any more than the British believed Ulster would become a dominant actor in Anglo-Irish politics.

63

See Breuilly 1996; and Pflanze 1963.

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Rather, it is the complex interplay between legitimation strategies and networks that produced these yoking effects. Finally, by creating new actors at the bargaining table, yoking can have a lock-in effect. New actors change the balance of power and interests, creating different constraints on what can be considered legitimate. And it is this process of building and severing ties that transforms the structure of the game and leads to indivisible conflict. At the extremes, actors come to depend on a single coalition for their legitimacy, and as a result are restricted to a single claim. When this happens, actors are unable to recognize other claims to an issue as legitimate without undermining the validity of their own position, creating indivisible conflict. In sum, network theory provides a structural explanation of how legitimation strategies create indivisible conflict. Although actors choose legitimations strategically, they do so within structural constraints; without access to social and cultural resources, legitimation strategies will fail. Furthermore, whether legitimation strategies polarize, mobilize coalitions, or create new actors altogether depends on the actors’ position and the content of the legitimation strategy, not an actor’s interest or ideology. Empirically, we should see legitimation strategies polarize coalitions, even when their interests appear compatible. Similarly, there should be evidence that coalitions mobilize based on the legitimation strategy – that apart from the use of the strategy, the coalition would have failed to appear. Finally, under certain conditions, legitimation strategies should create entirely new actors at the bargaining table. Evidence should suggest that in the absence of rhetoric, the actor would fail to exist. Finally, it is through these mechanisms that legitimation strategies create lock-in effects. As coalitions are mobilized, polarized, and new actors created, actors become less flexible at the bargaining table. Empirically, we should see actors constrained by their legitimation strategies, avoiding positions they must now consider illegitimate. Moreover, if an actor attempts to negotiate when locked-in, we should see those negotiations denounced as illegitimate. Most importantly, lock-in should occur even when the material interests of the party are conducive to settlement. Whether the actors’ bargaining sets overlap is inconsequential; what matters is which claims they can consider legitimate. Testing the Legitimation Theory: The Cases of Ireland and Jerusalem To test the legitimation theory, the following chapters explore two seemingly intractable cases of indivisible conflict. Chapters 3 and 4 examine

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the construction of Ireland as an indivisible territory. By the twentieth century Ireland – and the territory of Ulster in particular – had become indivisible. Both British and Irish actors came to the bargaining table unable to recognize each others’ claims as legitimate. But this indivisibility, these chapters argue, was not inevitable, but rather a product of actors’ legitimation strategies as they battled for support over the issue of Ireland’s right to self-rule. Chapters 5 and 6 apply the legitimation theory to the case of Jerusalem. As with Ireland, the chapters argue that Jerusalem’s indivisibility is a political construct. This argument contrasts sharply with conventional wisdom on the subject, which suggests that with competing religious and national claims to the city, Jerusalem is almost inherently indivisible. Using legitimation theory, I argue indivisibility resulted from shifts in actors’ legitimation strategies. In contemporary politics, Israeli and Palestinian elites have radically changed the ways in which they justify their sovereign claims to Jerusalem, merging nationalist with religious claims. In the process, these actors have locked themselves into intractable bargaining positions, constructing the conflict as indivisible. These two cases of indivisibility were selected for substantive and methodological reasons. Conflicts over Ireland and Jerusalem are of immense historical and contemporary significance. In the nineteenth and early twentieth century, Ireland preoccupied the policy of a global power as the most discussed issue in the British Parliament. The effects of this conflict continued well into the late twentieth century, manifesting in the Troubles and in the continuing unrest of Northern Irish politics today. Jerusalem’s significance can hardly be overstated: it is perhaps the quintessential example of indivisible conflict. For thousands of years, religions and nations have battled over the right to rule the Holy City. Jerusalem drove the Crusades, the Crimean War, and the Arab-Israeli conflict. Most recently, Jerusalem resides at the crux of the Israeli-Palestinian peace process, with both participants and theorists alike charging that it is the indivisibility of the city, beyond all other issues, that continues to undermine a settlement. Beyond their substantive significance, there are methodological reasons guiding this case selection as well. First, both Ireland and Jerusalem are hard cases for legitimation theory.64 In both of these cases, legitimation theory must compete with several other theories of indivisibility, making these cases particularly grueling tests of the hypotheses offered here. There 64

On the importance of hard cases, see Stinchcombe 1968, 24–28.

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seems to be an intuitive explanation for these indivisible conflicts: both Jerusalem and Ireland involve deep-seeded religious and nationalist claims to territory. If legitimation theory is to be convincing, therefore, it must adequately demonstrate that indivisibility was a contingent outcome, not simply the product of clashing identities. At the same time, moreover, these cases must show that legitimacy operates as an independent variable, with effects not reducible to power and interest. Second, when examined over a long historical period, these cases exhibit striking variation on both the independent and dependent variable. In both Ireland and Jerusalem, we can observe actors deliberately shifting their legitimation strategies, using new rhetorical tropes to justify their claims to the territory. As the following chapters demonstrate, divisibility is also variable. In Ireland, although politics during the nineteenth century were contentious, even the most radical of Irish and British politicians believed that a division of the country, in the form of shared sovereignty, was possible; it was only in the twentieth century that the conflict becomes indivisible. Similarly, Jerusalem’s divisibility has varied tremendously over time; indeed, some argue that it is only in the last few decades that Jerusalem has truly become indivisible.65 In sum, although the cases are limited in number, tracing developments longitudinally allows for numerous observations on the independent and dependent variables, while simultaneously controlling for competing factors such as regime type, interests, and power disparities.66 Finally, Ireland and Jerusalem exhibit variations and similarities across cases as well. Although these territorial conflicts are substantively different, legitimation strategies induce similar dynamics in each of the cases. Yet in more recent politics, the cases have diverged, with Ireland becoming more divisible in the late twentieth century, and Jerusalem appearing increasingly indivisible. Examining why these cases have diverged over time, as I do in Chapter 7, should lend increasing insight into the dynamics of indivisibility. Methodology The empirical chapters here use two qualitative methods. First, within each of the cases, I use a process-tracing approach, mapping each of the 65 66

See e.g. Friedland and Hecht, 1996; Wasserstein, 2002. As discussed below, however, these cases cannot be treated independently, as they are path-dependent.

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independent variables (shifts in legitimation strategies), the causal mechanisms, and how these change the networks of coalitions. To compare across cases, the study conducts a structured-focused comparison, examining whether similar shifts in legitimation strategies produce comparable dynamics across these cases.67 Although there are limits to any methodological approach, qualitative case studies are often charged with being overly inductive, anecdotal, and nongeneralizable. Despite these criticisms, qualitative methods are particularly well-suited to explore indivisible territory, for four reasons. First, the sample of cases is small. The small sample size is in part due to the nature of the theory: as seen below, the data collection on rhetoric and networks requires in-depth historical and interpretive work. A large-N study of this nature would not easily be contained in a single manuscript. Beyond these limits, the sample size of indivisible territory is itself limited. Indivisibility is like many phenomena in international politics – major power war, empires, and bipolar systems – rare but significant. Without a large sample size, however, quantitative methodologies are unlikely to produce substantive results. This raises the question of whether the cases could be disaggregated – if the several bargaining events within each case could be treated as separate and distinct observations. But disaggregating these cases over time would not be useful. In each of these cases bargaining is path-dependent: the use of legitimation strategies at one point creates structural changes that influence legitimation strategies later on.68 It is not enough to measure variation on the independent variable; the method must also capture the timing and sequence of the causal mechanisms. As a result, the path-dependence of the cases is not easily captured by methods that assume cases are independent of one other.69 Process-tracing, in contrast, places these variables in historical context, examining how the timing and sequence of events influences variables and outcomes over time. Third, process-tracing is better able to identify causal mechanisms than quantitative approaches. Although statistical methods may produce 67

68

69

On process tracing and case studies, see e.g. George and Bennett 2004. On structuredfocused comparisons see George 1979. On path dependency and the difficulties it poses for invariant causal models see Katznelson 1997; Tilly 1995; Skocpol 1979, 39; George and Bennett 2004, 212–313; Abbot 1988. Path dependency, in essence, undermines assumptions of constant causality. This assumption is absolutely critical to invariant causal models and most statistical analysis: because causality is determined by constant correlations, constant causality is the foundation for establishing a causal link between initial conditions and outcomes.

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robust, generalizable correlations, process-tracing methods are wellsuited to map concrete causal pathways.70 In a study of indivisibility, this is significant. With a small sample size, tracing causal mechanisms increases the robustness of the empirical test and the chances that the theory will be falsified. With process tracing, the theory is tested not only by correlating the independent and dependent variable; the theory must also predict “the intermediate causes lying between some cause and its purported effect.”71 Because of this, even within a single case, process-tracing tests “the theory with degrees of freedom coming from the multiple implications of any on theory.”72 Tracing causal mechanisms, moreover, is particularly important for the legitimation theory offered here. Conventional statistical methods, as many theorists note, rely on assumptions of constant and linear causality. They assume that an independent variable’s effects are both unidirectional and uniform over time.73 As noted above, the path-dependent nature of legitimation strategies already creates problems for this assumption. The effects of a specific legitimation strategy at time T are not likely to be the same at time T+1. The legitimation theory outlined here contains complex causal relations that conventional statistical methods cannot capture.74 Legitimation strategies’ effects depend on a configuration of variables; outcomes depend on how these strategies interact with extant networks. These causal interactions are neither linear nor constant. Whereas legitimation strategies might produce indivisibility when used in certain networks, they may fail to have any causal effect in others. Methodologically, if we try to reduce causality to the properties of a particular variable, we miss the fact that it is the interaction of these factors that leads to shifts in divisibility. Finally, legitimation strategies are causally recursive. By using network analysis, the work here attempts to gain insight into what are essentially agent-structure interactions. An actor’s rhetoric can fundamentally alter the network structures in which she is embedded. At the same time, however, these network structures place constraints on agency, influencing if not determining the range of future legitimation strategies. And whereas with invariant causal models recursivity interferes with determining the direction of causal processes, process-tracing can map out these complex 70 71 72 73 74

George and Bennett 2004, 147–49; Gerring 2004. Gerring 2004, 348. George and Bennett 2004, 29. For a description of constant causality, see King, Keohane, and Verba 1994, 93. Katznelson 1997; Tilly 1995; Abbott 1988; George and Bennett 2004.

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causal pathways, capturing these historical transformations in a particular case.75 Although there are numerous benefits to process-tracing, within-case analysis is often unsatisfying. Ideally, social scientists want to test not only for mechanisms within cases, but across cases as well. To test for the generalizability of mechanisms, therefore, this project combines process-tracing with a structured-focused comparison across the two case studies.76 This study departs, clearly, from tests of congruence; we are not interested in establishing shared initial conditions or even similar concrete outcomes. Yet as argued by Alexander George and Andrew Bennett, even when initial conditions and outcomes vary from case to case, configurations of mechanisms can replicate, producing similar dynamics across cases.77 The cases here attempt to do this: I look to see how similar combinations of switching mechanisms operate in these very different circumstances. In doing so, a structured comparison allows for contingent generalization, without distorting each case’s unique historical context. Ultimately, by combining these methods this study attempts to provide comparative analytical narratives of cases of indivisibility, cases that demonstrate the dynamics of bargaining cannot be explained without legitimation strategies; and that these strategies, far from being epiphenomenal, can create the constraints that undermine settlement to a conflict. Moreover, part of the purpose of this project is to show that although initial conditions and outcomes might be different in cases – the conflicts over Jerusalem and Ireland start and end in radically different ways – the processes and mechanisms of bargaining are still comparable. Despite these differences, legitimation strategies and networks interact similarly in both of these cases. The method adopted here, therefore, is deeply comparative, allowing for both generalizable theory and, as seen in the concluding chapters, analysis of contemporary territorial conflict. Data Collection and Testing For each of the cases here, data was collected over a defined historical period. For the case of Ireland, bargaining over territory was studied from approximately 1875 to 1922, a period that roughly captures the emergence of the Home Rule issue and the final bargaining failures of 1919 to 1921. In Jerusalem, the case spans from approximately 1920 to 75

76 77

George and Bennett 2004, 147–48; Gerring 2004. On difficulties with recursivity and statistical models, see King, Keohane, and Verba 1994, 198. George and Bennett refer to this as typological theorizing. George and Bennett 2004. Ibid., 233–63. See also Tilly 1995; Katznelson 1997.

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2000. In this period, we see the beginning of modern negotiations over Jerusalem, occurring as actors considered whether and how to divide Palestine in the 1920s and 1930s, as well as the most recent attempts to divide Jerusalem in the Camp David negotiations of 2000. Evidence for these cases was gathered from primary and secondary resources. Secondary historical literature is critical to establish the background of each case. In both cases, however, and particularly in the case of Jerusalem, there has been a growing scholarly conflict over historiography. Where relevant, I have noted how these developments in the historiography might affect the evidence used in these cases. The cases also rely on primary resources, although language barriers mean that these sources are used more heavily in the Irish case than in the study of Jerusalem. In the Irish case, I analyzed a database of seventy years of newspaper articles to identify shifts in rhetoric. I also consulted parliamentary debates, foreign policy documents, and private correspondence. In the Jerusalem case, I relied on published parliamentary documents (in English), translations of major documents, and newspaper databases. The evidence is organized around four primary hypotheses. First, does the research here show a substantive change in legitimation strategies? Here, it is not enough to show subtle or one-time shifts in rhetoric. Rather, the evidence should demonstrate that new justifications depart radically and fundamentally from earlier rhetoric. To do this, I conducted a content analysis of rhetoric. Using public speeches, primarily found in newspapers and parliamentary debates, I searched for turning points in rhetoric, where one set of tropes was abandoned for a new set of strategies. Second, does the evidence demonstrate that changes in legitimation strategies were deliberate and strategic, as predicted by legitimation theory? Moreover, did actors’ choice of legitimation strategies depend on network configurations? If actors chose legitimation strategies at will, this would directly contradict the foundations of the theory discussed here. To research this question, I collected data in two areas. First, what were actors’ motivations in choosing some legitimation strategies and not others? Do parliamentary discussions, personal diaries or correspondence show strategic considerations? Were actors themselves aware of structural constraints? Second, objectively, what was the network structure in which claims were made? With whom did each of the actors have contact? How dense were these transactions? Were there formal institutions (e.g., political party structures) that buttressed these interactions? Were actors considered central to a network, or were they largely marginal?

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A third set of hypotheses to be tested here involve switching effects. Is there evidence of each of the switching effects in these cases? Do these mechanisms only operate under the specified conditions? Once again, secondary and primary resources establish not only the presence of these effects, but the timing and sequence as well. I also looked for evidence that would disprove the causal logic of these switching effects. For example, if coalitions mobilize based on shared interest and not legitimacy, this would call into question the larger legitimation theory. Finally, does the research show clear evidence of lock-in? To be indivisible, an actor’s inflexibility cannot be a bluff, or even a choice for that matter. Rather, actors must literally be trapped in their network positions. To show this, I looked for evidence both of politicians’ perception about the costs of defection and of more objective structural effects. Do the actors themselves perceive themselves as trapped, and do they believe they are locked into bargaining positions because of their earlier rhetoric? Is there evidence that actors who attempt to change their legitimation strategies are punished by relevant coalitions? Each of these events would suggest the structural lock-in described by the theory. I also looked for evidence that would contradict my hypothesis. For example, if networks do not constrain legitimation strategies, then actors should be able to pick and choose among justifications without evidence of consequence. If networks do matter, then we should find evidence where the use of a discordant legitimation strategy was punished. Plan of the Book This book devotes four empirical chapters to the territorial conflicts in Ireland and Jerusalem. The introductory chapters to each of these cases – Chapter 3 and Chapter 5 – argue that neither Ireland nor Jerusalem were inherently indivisible territories. As Chapter 3 describes, from 1885 to 1913 the “Irish problem” seemed ripe for settlement. Although politics during the nineteenth century were contentious, even the most radical of Irish and British politicians believed that shared sovereignty over Ireland was possible. Similarly, Chapter 5 argues that Jerusalem from 1948 to 1967 was divisible. Although the division of Jerusalem between Israel and Jordan was deeply problematic, and certainly no parties’ preferred outcome, it was largely accepted by contemporaries as legitimate. Even the 1967 War did not determine Jerusalem’s indivisibility. Surprisingly, documents show that in the wake of occupation, Israeli politicians still considered means by which to divide the Holy City.

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How was it that these territories became indivisible? Chapters 4 and 6 argue that the indivisibility of Ireland and Jerusalem arose from a contentious legitimation process, which redefined the boundaries of conflict and locked actors into irreconcilable positions. Chapter 4 argues that by 1886 Irish Nationalists had backed British Unionists into a rhetorical corner, where they were about to be forced to accept Home Rule, an autonomous parliament for Ireland within the empire. In order to defeat Home Rule, and force a compromise more suited to their preferences, Conservatives changed their legitimation strategy from one that opposed Home Rule on the grounds that it would hurt the empire, to one that claimed Home Rule would be an assault on Protestant rights in Ulster. Although the Conservative change in rhetoric was strategic, it had unintended consequences, creating Ulster as a unified political actor, and altering the balance of power in the Conservative and Irish Republican Party towards more extreme elements. The sum effect was by 1912 all parties locked into positions refused to recognize each others’ claims as legitimate, constructing Ireland as indivisible. Chapter 6 then applies this same legitimation theory to negotiations over Jerusalem from 1967 to the present day. The chapter here argues that although earlier rhetoric left room for compromise, in the last thirty years both Israeli and Palestinian actors have adopted rhetoric that has left little room for legitimate compromise over the city. In particular, both Israeli and Palestinian politicians have merged religious and nationalist claims to territory, often in an attempt to build domestic support. Although initially elites on both sides used this rhetoric strategically, these claims ultimately had blowback effects, altering political structures in ways that have left no room for negotiations over the city. Each of these chapters argues that indivisibility emerged from a political process. But this raises a question: given structural constraints, under what conditions can indivisible territorial conflicts become divisible? Although reconstructing such conflicts is difficult, the legitimation theory suggests it is not impossible. Chapter 7 explores under what conditions indivisible conflicts are likely to become divisible. I analyze the conditions that led to the Belfast (Good Friday) Agreement in 1998, and ask whether this peace process has lessons for ongoing negotiations over Jerusalem. In the final chapter, I move out of the realm of policy and back into a discussion of theory, specifying the implications of legitimation theory for studies of ethnic conflict and strategic interaction in international relations.

part one CONSTRUCTING AN INDIVISIBLE IRELAND

introduction The conflict over Ireland seems inherently indivisible, a dispute that began more than 600 years ago and continues into the unrest in Northern Ireland today. However ancient the roots of conflict in Ireland, contemporary disputes emerged after England claimed Ireland for her empire in the Act of Union of 1801.1 In the years following the Act of Union, Irish elites would work almost continuously to gain back some form of sovereignty, be it in the form of greater representation at Westminster, an autonomous parliament in Ireland, or the establishment of a full-fledged Irish Republic. From the mid-nineteenth to the early twentieth century, Anglo-Irish politics was dominated by the fight for Home Rule.2 With Home Rule, Ireland would remain a subject of the British Empire, but would be granted a separate parliament to govern its domestic affairs.3 The push for Home Rule began in the 1830s, when Daniel O’Connell – who through his Catholic Emancipation movement had won the Catholics of Ireland voting rights – argued that the Act of Union should be repealed, and that Ireland should be granted its own legislature. O’Connell, like many Irish politicians who followed him, stressed that Ireland would not cast off

1

2

3

Although the British Empire did not exist formally until the time of Victoria, during the early nineteenth century actors recognized the entity as an imperial unit. For an overview of the Home Rule movement see Bew 2007; Jackson 2003; Loughlin 1986; Lyons 1977; O’Day 1998. This is a simplified definition of Home Rule. As discussed in the next two chapters, what Home Rule entailed was often unclear, and would range from demands for federation to calls for an independent Ireland.

47

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its imperial ties to Britain, arguing that “the crown of Ireland [was] an imperial crown, inseparably annexed to the crown of Great Britain, on which connexion the interests and happiness of both countries essentially depend.”4 Repeal, however, was anathema to the British, and by the mid-1840s the movement had clearly failed. O’Connell was dead, many of Repeal’s supporters had been arrested after a botched insurrection, and famine had overwhelmed any lingering interest in Home Rule. Home Rule’s death, however, proved temporary. In the 1870s, Irish politicians resurrected the movement. Under the leadership of Isaac Butt, Irish politicians established the Home Government Association on May 19, 1870. Butt’s vision of Home Rule was a federal one, in which Ireland would have a local parliament, but the country would remain tied to the empire through a shared monarchy, the Anglican Church, and a unified Imperial Parliament.5 Like O’Connell before him, Butt’s Home Rule program faltered. Neither British politicians nor radical Irish nationalists were persuaded that an autonomous parliament would solve Irish grievances, or bring an end to the Anglo-Irish conflict. Butt’s successor, however, would have better luck. In 1882, Charles Stewart Parnell took over the leadership of the Irish Parliamentary Party (Ireland’s representative at Westminster). Unlike Butt, Parnell and his party convinced British politicians and the Irish nationalist fringe that Home Rule was the best possible solution to the Irish problem. If Ireland were to be given a parliament, not only would this solve the nation’s domestic conflicts (tenant-farmer relationships foremost among them), but it would actually strengthen the British Empire by ensuring the Irish remain loyal subjects.6 So powerful was the Home Rule movement that by the 1880s, Parnell and his followers had built immense support among Irish and British elites, as well as much of the British public. The British Liberal Party was particularly strident in its support of an autonomous parliament for Ireland. Under the leadership of William Gladstone, the Liberals worked to introduce the First Home Rule Bill in 1886. The bill was defeated by a slim margin, 341 votes to 311. A second Home Rule Bill, introduced in 1893, passed the House of Commons, but was vetoed by the House of Lords.

4 5

6

Times, April 23, 1834, 3. For Butt’s ideas on federalism, the best source is his own work, Butt 1871. For a discussion of Butt’s conservative, federal approach, see Thornley 1960; Thornley 1964. On Parnell and his campaign for Home Rule, see Lyons 1977; O’Brien 1957.

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The Home Rule movement would languish for more than a decade. However by the turn of the twentieth century, Irish and British proponents of Home Rule were optimistic. An autonomous parliament had gained so much support that contemporaries viewed Home Rule as not only probable, but inevitable.7 With Irish and British public opinion behind them, Liberals and Constitutional Nationalists introduced a Home Rule Bill on April 11, 1912, believing it would pass by a large majority. And ultimately the Home Rule Bill did pass; on January 16, 1913, the Home Rule Bill passed the House of Commons, carrying a majority of 110 votes.8 Yet Home Rule was never implemented. As politicians debated the bill at Westminster, opposition to Home Rule turned violent, and factions in Britain and Ireland edged to the brink of civil war. In Ulster, where opposition against Home Rule was most fierce, militias with upward of 75,000 members promised to fight against Home Rule. The protestants of Ulster refused to be put under what they saw as a Catholic tyranny; they would fight to the death if necessary.9 Counter-forces that supported Home Rule mobilized as well; within the south, an Irish force of almost 150,000 had pledged to secure Home Rule at any cost.10 In Parliament, British and Irish politicians worked feverishly to reach a compromise on the “Ulster question” – how to grant Ireland a parliament, and yet still satiate the Protestant north. But compromise seemed impossible. Although some British politicians and Ulster Unionists refused to allow autonomous rule for Ireland unless Ulster was partitioned, this position proved incompatible with the Irish, who saw partition as an affront to the integrity of the Irish nation. Even with civil war looming, politicians seemed unable to compromise over Ulster. By all accounts, the British and Irish were saved from the tragedy of civil war only by the outbreak of another catastrophe on the continent: the declaration of war between Britain and Germany on August 4, 1914. The Home Rule Bill’s implementation was delayed into the end of the war. Both sides disbanded their militias, with most joining British forces on the continent.

7

8

9 10

Although Liberals and Nationalists secured a majority for Home Rule, the House of Lords protected the Conservatives through their veto power over the House of Commons, which existed until 1911. Without the veto, historians argue Home Rule would have passed in 1890. See Hammond 1964, 601; and Lyons 1977. While the Home Rule Bill passed in 1913, it would not become law until 1914. The House of Lords again vetoed the bill. However, due to reform of Parliament, the Lords’ veto would expire in a year, allowing the bill to pass. See Buckland 1973; Stewart 1967. For descriptions, see Gwynn 1932, 244; Lyons 1985, 322.

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The Irish issue would not wait out the war. On Easter Monday, April 24, 1916, rebellion broke out in Dublin. Leaders of the Rising occupied the General Post Office, where they declared the Provisional Government of the Irish Republic.11 Although the Rising was almost immediately defeated, the long-term effects on Anglo-Irish politics were devastating. In Ireland, the Rising signaled the end of the Irish Parliamentary Party, which had pushed so hard for Home Rule. By 1918, Irish politics were dominated by Sinn F´ein, whose program for Home Rule demanded not only an autonomous parliament for Ireland, but a severing of the imperial links between the two nations. In 1919, Sinn F´ein declared Ireland a free republic, independent from British rule. The Irish declaration sparked the Anglo-Irish War, which lasted more than two years. Exhausted from fighting, in 1921 a British and Irish delegation met one last time to negotiate a Home Rule agreement. Once again, negotiations faltered. British and Irish still vehemently disagreed about Ulster’s permanent status. Moreover, the delegations could not find room for compromise on whether Ireland was to be a republic or an imperial subject. Ultimately, although the parties did walk away from the negotiations with the Anglo-Irish Treaty, they failed to reach a permanent solution to the conflict. Far from settling the Irish question, the negotiations set the stage for Britain’s forced partition of Ireland, a year-long civil war in Ireland, and years of insurgency and terrorism in Northern Ireland that persist to the present day. Although attempts to divide sovereignty began with negotiations, ultimately Ireland would wrest sovereign control not through compromise, but through war. By the twentieth century, Ireland was undoubtedly indivisible territory.

alternative explanations: identities and interests in the anglo-irish conflict The two approaches discussed in Chapter 1 produce possible explanations of Ireland’s indivisibility. First, scholars have argued that the AngloIrish conflict is best understood as a religious or nationalist conflict. In this view, Ireland’s indivisibility was practically inevitable, a product of deeply seeded animosity between radically different identities. Second, others might posit that Ireland’s indivisibility was a matter of interest. 11

On the Rising, see Garvin 1986, 481; Lyons 1985, 365. A few minor incidents did take place outside of the capital – shootings in Cork and Wexford, a short-lived guerrilla campaign in Meath, and a skirmish in Galway.

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For reasons of reputation, commitment problems, or irreconcilable material preferences, the British and Irish were unable to locate a negotiated settlement.

the politics of nationalism and religion in ireland The college professor who instructed me in modern Irish history captured the identity approach most succinctly. He announced that the Act of Union was doomed to fail because “She [Ireland] was poor, and he [England] was rich. She was Catholic, and he was Protestant. She was agriculture and he was industry.”12 From his perspective, the indivisibility of Ireland was inevitable; too much space existed between these two nations for compromise to be possible. His student agrees that analyzing Anglo-Irish relations without considering the role of identity would be foolish. Much of Irish history reads as the struggle of an embattled Irish nation against British colonial rule. Even before the Act of Union, Irish nationalists worked to throw off British imperialism and establish themselves as an independent state.13 This nationalist battle became particularly virulent in the nineteenth century, as intellectuals worked to resurrect a unique and distinct Irish language and culture. It was through their efforts that Irish nationalism infiltrated the masses, sparking land revolts, tenant strikes, and “monster meetings” demanding Irish self-rule. By the twentieth century, nationalist sentiment reached its apex, sparking the Easter Rising of 1916 and the wars for Irish independence from 1919 to 1921.14 Perhaps even more than nationalist identity, it is religion that is often blamed for the indivisibility of the Irish conflict. Religion is ever present in the Anglo-Irish conflict, particularly in disputes over Ulster. For some, Ireland’s indivisibility naturally resulted from immutable conflicts between Protestants and Catholics. The seventeenth century saw bloody sectarian conflict, from the Irish Confederate wars that pitted 12

13

14

This passage, which is paraphrased from my notes, is from Emmet Larkin, professor emeritus of Modern Irish History at The University of Chicago. There was, for example, the Irish Rebellion of 1641, which broke out between Irish Catholics and Scottish Protestant settlers. This led to a war in the 1650s and the final conquest of Ireland by Oliver Cromwell’s New Model Army. In 1798, the United Irish movement – a union of Protestant and Roman Catholic republicans – rebelled against British rule. The idea that the 1916 rising was a popular rebellion is very much a myth. Only a minority of hard-line republicans participated in the rebellion. It was only after the rebellion that the Rising would take on mass importance.

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Irish Roman Catholics against British and Scottish Protestants, to Oliver Cromwell’s brutal reconquest of Ireland in 1649.15 From Cromwell’s rule until the 1830s, Irish Catholics were subjected to harsh Penal Laws, codes designed to protect the Protestant Ascendancy by restricting the rights of Irish Catholics to hold property, to practice religion, and to vote. With Catholic Emancipation in 1829, tensions among Protestants and Catholics only seemed to deepen, manifesting in battles over land rights, trade issues, and most notably, the right of sovereignty over the Ulster counties.16 The history of Ireland can be summarized, as Paul Bew so eloquently states, in “the mutual contempt which characterized the relationship between the two main traditions – Protestant, ‘British,’ and unionist on the one hand, Catholic and nationalist on the other.”17 Although Britain and Ireland have sought a range of methods to achieve peaceful coexistence – the Act of Union, Home Rule, the Anglo-Irish Agreement of 1985, and most recently the Belfast (Good Friday) Agreement of 1998 – these represent not so much compromise as “attempts to divert the full flood of rage into a place of relative calmness.”18 The enmity between British and Irish remains undiluted, even at the turn of the twenty-first century. These identity explanations speak to an undeniable truth: at some point Irish and British, Catholic and Protestant identities hardened to such an extent that a negotiated solution to the Irish question appeared impossible. The chapters here do not question the significance of religious and national identities in the Anglo-Irish conflict. What these chapters do question is the fatalism of this explanation, the idea that given these distinct identities, Ireland’s indivisibility, and the violence that has been its result, was inevitable. In contrast to these claims, much of recent historiography suggests that Ireland, and Ulster in particular, was not always indivisible.19 Although politics during the nineteenth century were 15

16

17 18 19

This is a vast simplification of these wars, which had as much to do with political motivations as it did religious ones. William Pitt, the architect of the Act of Union, had actually supported Catholic Emancipation as a means to more firmly tie the Catholic population of Ireland to the empire, but was thwarted by George III. Pitt resigned in protest. Bew 2007, viii. Ibid., ix. The question of whether conflict over Ireland was indivisible differs from whether the empire as a unit was indivisible. Although the British consistently maintained the indivisibility of the empire, they were willing to share sovereignty with the Irish, and allow an autonomous parliament for Ireland. On the indivisibility of the empire, see Lustick 1993a.

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contentious, even the most radical of Irish and British politicians believed that shared sovereignty over Ireland was possible. This was more than false optimism: by the end of the nineteenth century, Home Rule, a separate parliament for Ireland, was probable.20 Astoundingly, moreover, Ulster was not even considered a problematic issue for most of the Irish conflict. Throughout the nineteenth century, Orange (Protestant) societies had proliferated in Ulster, but before 1886 these groups had little effect on Anglo-Irish politics. True, there was a general resistance against Home Rule in Ulster, but speaking of an Ulster problem before 1886 engages in retrospective history. Although Protestants and Catholics clashed throughout history, in the nineteenth century we find that religious cleavages were often overshadowed by other loyalties. Some Protestants identified deeply with the Irish nation; Charles Stewart Parnell, often considered Ireland’s foremost nationalist, was himself a Protestant, as were other members of the Constitutional Nationalist Party. Protestants, particularly Anglicans and Presbyterians, were extremely divided. Far from being a cohesive unit, Ulster’s Protestants were fragmented among class and religious lines.21 Southern Unionists – those wealthy land-owning Protestants in the south of Ireland – believed they had little in common with their brethren in the north, and indeed derided their radical approach to Home Rule politics. It was not a given, then, that Protestant-Catholic enmity would render Ireland indivisible. Identity theorists also overlook the role of elites in moderating and mobilizing ideological enmity. As historians Francis Stewart Leland Lyons and Alvin Jackson nicely detail, Anglo-Irish history is full of moderates who pushed their followers toward compromise.22 Daniel O’Connell bridged British politicians and the revolutionary Fenians in his drive toward Emancipation and Repeal; Parnell did the same as he pursued Home Rule. On the other hand, elites could fan the flames of identity conflict, as British Conservative Randolph Churchill did in Ulster in 1886, when he called on Ulster’s Protestants to fight the Catholic push for Home Rule.23 This is not to say that politicians could conjure identities from thin air. It does suggest, however, that religious and national identities were 20 21 22 23

See Hammond 1964; O’Brien 1957; and Lyons 1977. See Boyce 1970, 112; Buckland 1973; Savage 1961; and O’Day 1998, 262. See Lyons 1977; Jackson 2003. On Churchill and the Orange Card, see e.g., Foster 1980, 237–244; Stubbs 1990; Savage 1961.

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more malleable and open to compromise than the ethnic conflict literature often permits. Asking why it is that elites would mobilize this enmity and how it is that elites have the power to invoke these identities is critical to understanding Ireland’s indivisibility.

the politics of interest: commitments and reputation as a barrier to home rule We can draw from rationalist theories to produce three potential hypotheses about bargaining failure in the Anglo-Irish conflict. First, some might argue that commitment problems undercut negotiations. British and Irish politicians might have been able to reach a negotiated settlement, but neither could commit to upholding that compromise in the future.24 If you gave Ireland Home Rule, what was to prevent that nation from demanding absolute freedom later on? Better then to accept conflict now, when the costs are lower, than conflict at a later date. Others might argue that reputation was a critical barrier to an Anglo-Irish settlement.25 Although the British might have been willing to accept Home Rule in theory, in practice they feared this would lead to demands for sovereignty from other polities under British rule. If Ireland were granted an autonomous parliament, what would happen to British holdings in India or Africa? The British could not risk setting such a precedent, and thus refused to negotiate over Home Rule. Each of these hypotheses provides insight into Anglo-Irish bargaining dynamics. For example, British elites did fear that the Irish were likely to use the divided sovereignty of Home Rule as a means to demand full sovereignty later. Once given an autonomous parliament, the British did not believe that the Irish would be satisfied. As one politician remarked during the debate over Repeal, a parliament “meant separation, and separation would produce a republic . . . such a measure [of separation] would infallibly produce . . . in Ireland a civil war.”26 As for reputation, several British politicians charged that the entire integrity of the empire was at stake in the question of Home Rule. If Ireland were to be given selfrule, this would set off a chain-reaction within the empire, leading to the collapse of colonial rule.27

24 25 26 27

On commitment problems, see e.g., Fearon 1995, 1998. On reputation, bargaining, and indivisibility, see Toft 2002, 2003; Walter 2000. Times, April 23, 1834, 3. See e.g., Lyons 1985, 300; Curtis 1963, 427.

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Despite the presence of these commitment problems and precedentsetting concerns, most British politicians were willing to divide sovereignty in the nineteenth century. Most if not all of the British parties were willing to concede some form of limited sovereignty to Ireland, even though they recognized the risks associated with their endeavor. Even the most ardent of imperialists believed devolved sovereignty would be useful, and some proposed a federated system throughout the entirety of the empire.28 Although there were concerns about devolving sovereignty, these did not in and of themselves keep actors from pursuing a negotiated settlement. A third hypothesis from this literature is the most simple: some scholars might suggest that British and Irish material interests were incompatible, their demands so far apart that there was no space for compromise over Home Rule. For whatever reason – public opinion, the costs of settlement, strategic concerns – there was no overlap in British and Irish bargaining sets, and thus no room for compromise. There are a few difficulties with this argument. For one, even if British and Irish preferences did not overlap in 1912, this theory would still fail to explain the transformation in interests: why it is that there was room for a negotiated settlement in the nineteenth century and not in the twentieth? But even more important is that historical evidence suggests that British and Irish politicians both preferred and sought a negotiated settlement. British and Irish politicians alike believed public opinion demanded a settlement: there was no electoral advantage to be gained by dragging their nations toward civil war.29 There is scant evidence that British and Irish elites believed strategic concerns should prevent settlement. Indeed as Bew argues, in “mainstream British political life, Home Rule as such did not provoke any serious concerns about strategic issues.”30 Most surprisingly, many scholars argue that even in the later stages of the conflict, there was very little distance between British and Irish preferences – so little, in fact, that the parties could agree in theory on a settlement, even if they could

28 29

30

On federalism, see e.g., Kendle 1989. Even those who had argued against Home Rule were now pushing for some sort of settlement in order to avert a civil war. An editorial in the newspaper The Observer, which had stridently opposed Home Rule, now argued that “The settlement of the Irish question is an imperial necessity. To that settlement all parties, both in Great Britain and Ireland, must make their definite contribution . . . The bedrock of that business is that some sort of Home Rule there must be, whatever the details, modifications, or limitation.” The Observer, May 14, 1916. See also Gwynn 1932, 496. Bew 2007, 570.

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not bring themselves to sign it.31 But despite this overlap of interests, negotiations over Home Rule ultimately collapsed from 1912–1921. In sum, although both rational choice and identity theorists illuminate some of the conflict’s dynamics, neither can explain Ireland’s transformation from a divisible to indivisible issue. Instead, I argue it was changes in legitimation strategies that constructed Ireland as indivisible, and paved the way to civil war. To demonstrate these processes, the next two chapters examine legitimation strategies and their effects in AngloIrish politics from 1880 to 1921. Chapter 3 explains why it was that, in the nineteenth century, Home Rule was very much a divisible issue. Here I suggest that in the late nineteenth century, Constitutional Nationalists – the Irish Parliamentary Party at Westminster – used legitimation strategies that created space for compromise. Through their appeals to both imperial and republican rhetoric, Constitutional Nationalists managed to persuade multiple audiences, including Irish radicals and British politicians, that Home Rule was a legitimate settlement to the Anglo-Irish conflict. So powerful were Nationalist strategies that by the mid-1880s, shared sovereignty over Ireland appeared inevitable.32 Chapter 4 addresses the question of how it was that, in the twentieth century, Ireland became indivisible. From 1912 to 1921, British Conservatives and Ulster Unionists refused to allow autonomous rule for Ireland unless Ulster was partitioned, a position completely incompatible with the Irish, who saw partition as an affront to the integrity of the Irish nation. Moreover, Irish national demands became increasingly incompatible with British conceptions of empire. By 1921, Irish parties refused to accept any Home Rule that was not republican – while accepting continued British dominion, they would reject any agreement tying the state explicitly to the British Crown. The chapter demonstrates that it was changes in legitimation strategies that produced Ireland’s indivisibility. In 1886, British Conservatives, faced with the prospect of Home Rule, changed their legitimation strategy from one based on imperial integrity to rhetoric that used the Protestant minority in Ulster to justify resistance to Home Rule.33 This change in legitimation strategies was strategic: Conservatives were not seriously committed to the Orange societies, but hoped their rhetoric would delegitimate Irish demands for Home Rule. But once used, the 31 32 33

Jackson 1999, 263; Garvin 1996, 161. See Hammond 1964; and O’Brien 1957. Savage 1961.

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Conservatives’ Orange Card had utterly unanticipated switching effects: Conservatives’ legitimation strategies reconfigured political networks, creating an entirely new actor (that of Ulster), strengthening extremists in both Britain and Ireland, and eliminating ties with moderate parties. The chapter concludes by showing how each of these switching effects ultimately locked all parties into positions where they could no longer recognize each other’s claims as legitimate, and constructed Ireland as indivisible territory.

3 Home Rule A Divisible Ireland

The late nineteenth century was a time of optimism in Anglo-Irish politics. During the course of a decade, Parliament considered two Home Rule Bills for Ireland, one in 1886 and one in 1893.1 Each of these bills proposed a radical reorganization of the Act of Union. Although Ireland would remain a subject of the British Empire, it would regain an autonomous parliament, one largely responsible for Irish domestic affairs. In this way, Home Rule would actually divide sovereignty, allowing both England and Ireland control over the same territory. The debate over Home Rule was extremely contentious, the road to settlement strewn with obstacles. The first Home Rule Bill was defeated, 341 votes to 311. The second passed by an equally slim majority (307 to 276), only to be vetoed by the House of Lords. Despite these struggles over legislation, however, contemporaries and historians alike believe that Home Rule was effectively negotiable. By 1885, Irish nationalists and British Liberals agreed that Home Rule was the best solution to the Anglo-Irish conflict. Although some British politicians – most notably the Conservative Party – opposed Home Rule, they, too, believed that sovereignty over Ireland was divisible, that they could reach a negotiated settlement with the Irish nationalists over Ireland’s rule. So divisible was the conflict that by the early twentieth century, Home Rule for Ireland seemed not only possible, but inevitable.2 1

2

The Third Home Rule Bill, debated from 1912 to 1914, will be examined in the next chapter. See Hammond 1964, 601; and Lyons 1977; Jackson 2003, 67–105.

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This chapter examines why Ireland was divisible, why it was that in the nineteenth century, shared sovereignty over the country was conceivable. I argue that explaining this divisibility through interests or ideology alone is insufficient. Neither of these explanations can account for the settlements that emerged in the late nineteenth century. Instead, I argue that actors’ legitimation strategies constructed this divisibility. During the late nineteenth century, Constitutional Nationalists – Ireland’s representatives in the British Parliament – strategically adopted rhetoric designed to resonate with multiple parties in Anglo-Irish politics. Using their network position, Constitutional Nationalists used ambiguous language and symbols, designed to legitimate Home Rule to British and Irish coalitions alike. In doing so, Constitutional Nationalists persuaded a majority of elites that Home Rule was a legitimate solution to the Anglo-Irish conflict. Even those parties opposed to Home Rule were forced to admit that the policy was legitimate. As a result, by the end of the nineteenth century, Ireland appeared imminently divisible.

coalitions and anglo-irish politics From 1886 to 1913, four coalitions drove the Home Rule debate.3 In Britain, Liberals and Conservatives (or Unionists)4 controlled Westminster, while Constitutional Nationalists and Republicans dominated the Irish political landscape. Each of these actors was critical to a Home Rule settlement. Without the support or at least acquiescence of these coalitions, compromise between Britain and Ireland was impossible. Liberals. British Liberals controlled Parliament during key moments of Anglo-Irish bargaining. They controlled the majority of Parliament during the 1880s, losing to Lord Salisbury’s Conservative Party in 1886,5 and were in power again from 1892 to 1895 and from 1905 to 1922. Members of the Liberal Party were largely sympathetic to Irish grievances. Most Liberals believed Britain had treated its Irish subjects unfairly, 3

4

5

This is of course a simplification. A more thorough treatment of the Home Rule movement would consider the agrarian movements and the Catholic Church as independent forces in Irish politics. On agrarian movements see Bew 1987. On the Catholic Church, see especially Larkin 1975. This party also included Liberals who abandoned the party over Gladstone’s support of Home Rule. On June 9, 1885, the Liberal government under Gladstone resigned, forcing the appointment of a minority Conservative government under Salisbury, with the Earl of Carnarvon to serve as the Lord Lieutenant.

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had accorded the nation unequal rights, and that some form of selfgovernment of Ireland was necessary to ensure the Irish remained loyal subjects.6 If Britain were to continue to rule Ireland it must accept, as John Stuart Mill argued, “that the Irish problem could be solved if England could learn to look at Irish problems with Irish eyes,” rather than trying to govern one nation with the rules of another.7 Although they all believed the Irish had legitimate grievances, Liberals disagreed over how best to solve the Irish problem. For some Liberals, Ireland’s demands were best addressed through reforms that fell short of Home Rule. As late as 1881, many Liberals hoped that Irish grievances could be addressed through land reform. Because many protests were directed at the inequitable tenant-landlord system in Ireland, restructuring this system might silence Irish calls for autonomy. To this end, William Gladstone’s government passed two Land Acts, one in 1870 and one in 1881, which were designed to ensure tenants “fair rent, free sale, and fixity of tenure.”8 Other reforms focused on securing Ireland civil rights, such as the Irish Church Disestablishment Act (1869), which ended the practice of tithing to the Anglican Church, and the Reform Bill (1884), which extended the voting franchise to agricultural laborers. Others supported devolving power to local councils, but opposed a separate parliament for Ireland. It was under Gladstone’s leadership that, in 1885, the Liberal Party came to fully and officially support a Home Rule policy. This decision did not come without costs; it fractured the party, leading Liberal Unionists such as Joseph Chamberlain to defect and form a coalition with the Conservative Party. Nevertheless, from the 1880s onward, Liberals were stalwart supporters of Irish Home Rule. Conservatives. The Conservative Party was also crucial in the battle over Home Rule. Conservatives controlled Parliament from 1874 to 1880, ruled as a minority party briefly in 1885 and as a majority party from 1886 to 1892, and from 1895 to 1905. Conservatives had a long history of opposing Irish political demands. As the Tory Party, under the leadership of Robert Peel, they had fought Catholic Emancipation, arguing that the Roman Catholic religion was “in character and principle, inconsistent with the existence of the British constitution.”9 Although the party had ultimately acquiesced to Emancipation, Conservatives were 6 7 8 9

See e.g., Thornley 1960; Hammond 1964. Quoted in Hammond 1964, 114–15. See Jackson 2003, 43–45. Times, February 6, 1829, 1.

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less enamored of Irish reform than Liberals, and often called for coercive tactics to be used against agrarian protests.10 Not surprisingly then, Conservatives argued that a separate parliament for Ireland was simply out of the question, an inherent threat to the integrity of the empire. Although opposed to Home Rule, however, by the 1880s Conservatives were increasingly willing to compromise with Irish demands. Like the Liberals, some Conservatives believed that addressing Irish grievances required far-reaching land reform. Prime Minister Alfred Balfour’s government, for example, pursued significant land reform in Ireland at the turn of the century. More strikingly, several Conservatives proposed a more radical solution, that of the federalization of the entire empire. This devolution of power, Conservatives argued, would give the Irish some autonomy over national affairs, but also would ensure the Irish remained within the Union and tied to Westminster. As a result, these Conservatives argued that federalism would preserve imperial control, and even strengthen the empire.11 Despite these moves towards reform, however, Conservatives would remain opposed to Home Rule. Constitutional Nationalists. On the Irish side, two coalitions dominated the Home Rule debate: the Constitutional Nationalists and the Republicans. The Constitutional Nationalists formed the bulk of the Irish Parliamentary Party, Ireland’s representative party at Westminster. From the party’s formation in the 1870s to 1916, the party was considered the legitimate voice of the Irish nation. Throughout most of the 1870s, however, the party was extremely weak. In Ireland, the party failed to build ties with critical coalitions, specifically the Republicans and members of the Catholic Church. At Westminster, the party acted erratically; it was divided among several competing interests, and members felt no need to vote as a party. However, in the late 1870s and 1880s, under the leadership of Charles Stewart Parnell, the Home Rule Party became a centralized and formidable party machine.12 Through appeals to Republicans and the Catholic Church, the Constitutional Nationalists increased their electoral base.13 In the 1880 election, Constitutional Nationalists secured 63 seats; 10

11 12

13

Although it should be noted that Gladstone suspended habeus corpus in 1881 in order to suppress agrarian protests. Kendle 1989. For a full description of the building of the Home Rule Party under Parnell, see especially O’Brien 1957; Lyons 1977. Parnell changed the Home Rule Party to the Irish Parliamentary Party in 1882. O’Brien 1957, 130.

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by 1885, that number had increased to 86.14 The party leadership began to impose discipline on their members; in 1884, the leadership demanded that party members sign a pledge that committed them to vote with the party on all issues of significance.15 By the 1880s, the Conservative Nationalists were not only powerful, but were firmly committed to Home Rule, arguing that England should accord Ireland her own parliament and some control over domestic affairs. However, both the goals and the methods of the Parliamentary Party upheld the legitimacy of empire. Constitutional Nationalists had no desire to secede, and in fact believed succession from British rule to be illegitimate. Moreover, their methods of obtaining Home Rule were strictly parliamentary, seeking independence through legislation, and not revolution. Republicans. Operating outside of Westminster, the Republicans included groups such as the Irish Republican Brotherhood (the IRB or Fenians), their U.S. counterparts (such as Clan na Gael), and Sinn F´ein (for simplification, this classification also includes agrarian groups like the Land League, who were more interested in land reform than Irish independence).16 Republicans were a formidable force in Irish politics. By 1877, the Clan na Gael claimed a membership of 10,000, and the IRB had grown into a secret, nationwide network. Irish-Americans, moreover, provided much of the funding going to Irish nationalist causes. Any successful nationalist leader in Ireland would have to gain the allegiance of these republican networks.17 Although Republicans were the most radical nationalists in Ireland, there was a spectrum of preferences within the movement. Ideologically, each of these factions espoused an advanced nationalism: Ireland’s future, these groups argued, depended on building a national identity distinct from England’s.18 Some, particularly the American diaspora, wanted the Act of Union abolished and full Irish independence. Most Republicans, however, had goals much like the Constitutional Nationalists, namely the pursuit of self-government within the empire. As Alvin Jackson argues, although there “were undoubted tensions between militants and constitutionalists . . . the nationalist movement in Ireland should be seen as a spectrum of opinion rather than as a rigid polarity.”19 14 15 16 17 18 19

Lyons 1977, 123. Pledge reprinted in O’Day and Stevenson 1992, 106. See Moody 2000. See for example Moody 1967; Lyons 1985, 160–65. Boyce 1996, 82. Jackson 2003, 18.

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Where they differed with the Nationalists was in their methods: legislation, they believed, would do little to solve the Irish question, and was often considered blatant pandering to the British.20 Direct protest, including organized rebellion, was Republicans’ preferred method of action. Agrarian leaders organized rent strikes and “monster meetings” – attended by tens of thousands of tenant farmers – to protest land reform. The most extreme factions formed shadow governments in Ireland, attempted to build alliances with British enemies, and assassinated key British government officials. It was the Republicans that organized uprisings in 1848, 1867, and 1916, each of which were crushed by the British.21 As a result, despite their shared goals, Constitutional Nationalists’ moderate methods were often deemed unacceptable. At times Republicans even refused to associate with the Parliamentary Party, believing that “the revolutionary principles which we profess can be better served by our organisation existing on its own basis pure and simple.”22 In order to reach agreement over any issue in Anglo-Irish politics, each of these coalitions had to support the agreement, or at least not veto the bargain. Given this range of interests, it is hardly surprising that bargaining was contentious, and indeed earlier attempts to achieve Home Rule had failed miserably. But to political contemporaries and historians alike, the conflict over Home Rule in 1886 was decidedly divisible. And it was legitimation strategies that enabled politicians to divide sovereignty.

legitimating home rule: constitutional nationalists and coalition politics Chapter 2 argued that common ground emerges, not because of identical interests or shared identities, but because of legitimation strategies. In nineteenth-century Anglo-Irish politics, Constitutional Nationalists legitimated their program of Home Rule in ways that created room for compromise. Constitutional Nationalists were successful for two reasons. First, because their members had strong ties with multiple parties, the Constitutional Nationalists had the authority to propose a compromise solution

20 21

22

Lyons 1977, 86; O’Day 1998, 45. The 1848 rebellion was relatively insignificant. It lasted only from July 23 to July 26, 1848, had practically no clear preparations or leadership, and neither its execution nor the trials for treason that followed provoked any serious reaction within Ireland or Britain. In contrast, in 1867 more than 6,000 Fenians rebelled against British rule. The insurrection, however, was poorly organized, and was put down by the British in a matter of days. Quoted in O’Day 1998, 45. See also Lyons 1977, 86.

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to the Irish question. Second, Constitutional Nationalists strategically chose legitimation strategies that resonated with diverse coalitions. As a result, Constitutional Nationalists’ rhetoric appealed across the British and Irish politics, and allowed each party to accept the legitimacy of Home Rule. Structural Position: Bridging the Anglo-Irish Divide First, the Constitutional Nationalists’ network position helped define the conflict as divisible. Unlike earlier Irish elites, Constitutional Nationalists had ties with multiple parties both within Ireland and in Britain. As argued in Chapter 2, these ties not only provide the resources for legitimation strategies, but also determine whether rhetoric is likely to resonate. Legitimation strategies resonate when an actor has ties with the relevant audience; it is these ties that give an actor the authority to make claims. When an actor lacks these ties, any claim is likely to be treated as illegitimate. Nationalists occupied a structural bridge between critical parties in Anglo-Irish politics. Earlier actors pressing for Home Rule had been aligned with either the Republicans or with the British parties; as a result, these actors were dismissed as illegitimate by their opponents.23 For example, when actors who were too closely tied to the Republicans pressed for Home Rule, the British would dismiss Home Rule as illegitimate. Likewise, if an actor who appeared too closely tied to the British – such as Parnell’s predecessor, Isaac Butt – called for Home Rule, Republicans rejected the program as overly moderate.24 In contrast, under Charles Stewart Parnell the Constitutional Nationalists both maintained their extant ties with British parties as well as built strong ties with Republican groups in Ireland and the United States.25 The Constitutional Nationalists carefully built ties with the major British parties. Parnell, who led the Irish Parliamentary Party from 1882 to 1891, entered Parliament with strong ties to the British. A Protestant landlord himself, Parnell’s social position gave him an advantage in Parliament. As 23

24 25

Hammond 1964, 80; Lyons 1977, 167; Matthew 1990, cxi in Diaries, vol 10. Gladstone feared the Nationalists presented “a most immoral, most wicked assault not only on law and order but on private rights, and not only upon private property, but yet more upon personal liberty. . . . ” Gladstone to Lord Ripon, November 24, 1881, in Diaries, vol X, 166. See e.g., Lyons 1977, 86; Thornley 1960. See Moody 1967; and Lyons 1985, 160–65.

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argued by Conor Cruise O’Brien, “the House of Commons in the eighties was still an aristocratic assembly and it was a great advantage for the Irish to have a leader who would neither ‘misunderstand its tone’ nor let himself be overawed by it.”26 The advantage of Parnell’s ambiguous social position did not go unnoticed by his contemporaries; as The Nation commented, “He does not need translating. Other English gentlemen can understand him.”27 In the early 1880s, Nationalist leadership strengthened its formal and informal ties with the Liberal and Conservative Party leadership. Parnell exchanged letters with the Liberal leader Gladstone, as well as staunch Unionists such as Joseph Chamberlain and Randolph Churchill; these letters addressed issues ranging from Land Reform to the issue of Home Rule.28 To capitalize on these existing ties, the Constitutional Nationalists increased their parliamentary presence. By 1885, the Constitutional Nationalists had gained enough seats in the House of Commons to act as a swing vote between Conservatives and Liberals.29 Whereas the Constitutional Nationalists carefully cultivated their ties with the British, in the 1870s and 1880s they also strengthened their ties with Republican parties, both in Ireland and abroad. By 1876, for example, leaders of the party were increasingly traveling to the United States in order to build ties with the leaders of Clan na Gael and other Republican factions.30 In Ireland, Constitutional Nationalists worked to gain the attention of Republicans, consulting with Republican leaders over issues and tactics, using shared concerns – such as land reform – to build common platforms. By 1879, Parnell was meeting frequently with the Supreme Council of the IRB. Several Constitutional Nationalists – including Joseph Biggar and John O’Connor Power – were explicitly tied to the IRB, and it was rumored that even Parnell himself had sworn an oath to the Fenian organization. By the 1870s, ties between the Constitutional Nationalists and the Republicans were so strong that they even worked as a unitary organization on some issues. In 1879, the New Departure created an informal alliance between the IRB, American militants, and Irish parliamentarians. In the spirit of the New Departure, the Land League, established 26 27 28 29

30

O’Brien 1957, 6; see also Jackson 1999, 119. The Nation, September 8, 1877. O’Day 1986, 106; Hammond 1964. For a full description of the Home Rule party under Parnell, see especially O’Brien 1957; Lyons 1977. On Parnell’s trip to the United States see Lyons 1977, 55–57.

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by Parnell and Michael Davitt in 1879, pursued reform of the landlordtenant system in Ireland.31 After the passage of Gladstone’s Land Act in 1881, the Land League was reorganized into the National League, whose goal was to mobilize the population for self-government. Thus by the 1880s, the Constitutional Nationalists occupied a unique position, and bridged disparate parties. But to persuade both the British parties and the Republicans that Home Rule was a legitimate policy would require more than structural position. How the Constitutional Nationalists justified their position – the content of their rhetoric – was also a contributing factor to Ireland’s divisibility in the nineteenth century. The Virtues of Ambiguity: Legitimating Home Rule in Anglo-Irish Politics As the Constitutional Nationalists pressed their case for Home Rule, they relied on language that would appear legitimate to all coalitions simultaneously. By strategically choosing language that would resonate across different audiences, Constitutional Nationalists ensured Home Rule was acceptable to a wide spectrum of coalitions, and thus built support for compromise. To do this, Constitutional Nationalists relied on two tactics. First, the party varied its legitimation strategies depending on the audience: if the audience was Republican, the language appeared revolutionary, even violent; when faced with a British audience, Constitutional Nationalists cast Home Rule as constitutional and imperial. For example, legitimation strategies used in the United States emphasized the tyranny of Britain and the possibility of violence: “I am bound to admit that it is the duty of every Irishman to shed the last drop of his blood in order to obtain his rights.”32 When in front of a Republican audience in Ireland, Constitutional Nationalists would use references to tyranny, as well as what L.P. Curtis calls rhetorical violence: framing Home Rule demands so that the audience perceived them as militant and separatist. For example, in 1880 Constitutional Nationalists organized a boycotting campaign in Ireland – any landlord or tenant who did not support efforts for land reform would be socially ostracized. Now, there was nothing illegal or violent about the 31

32

As it turned out, the land question was ideal for integrating the constitutional and republican networks. To Constitutional Nationalists, the land question was one that could best be settled through legislative reform, while to Republicans a land act would help dismantle the basis of English power in Ireland, the landlord-tenant system. Quoted in Lyons 1977, 110.

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boycott, but Parnell ensured that the tactic appeared extremely militant to his audiences: Now [he said to the excited crowd] what are you to do with a tenant who bids for a farm from which his neighbor has been evicted [Various shouts, among which ‘Kill him’ and ‘Shoot him’]. Now I think I heard somebody say, ‘Shoot him’. . . . But I wish to point to a very much better way, a more Christian and more charitable way which will give the lost sinner an opportunity of repenting.33

Using violent language in these spontaneous exchanges with the crowd invoked feelings of militancy; the rhetorical violence “could convince people that they were involved in a war, the instruments of which were words rather than pikes or rifles.”34 At the same time, Constitutional Nationalists carefully avoided militant language in their appeals to the British. Instead, they adopted legitimation strategies that emphasized liberal and even imperial justifications for Home Rule. For example, Constitutional Nationalists argued that Home Rule was consistent with Britain’s liberal constitution. Home Rule, in this framing, was justified as a response to Britain’s failure to act justly in Ireland. For example, in a December 1882 speech in Cork, Parnell advanced the liberal doctrine of reciprocal rights, arguing that: I think [he said] that if our rights to self-government were recognized by the parliament of Great Britain . . . the strife of centuries might be terminated . . . and that there is no reason why the Irish nation . . . should not acknowledge and respect equally the rights of the larger nation so close to our shores. I trust that the solution will be in that direction. I believe it will be in that direction, that it will be a peaceful and constitutional one . . . .35

Similarly, Constitutionalists argued that in denying Home Rule, the British were acting against their own liberal principles. Britain was condemned as being a “good liberal on the Continent and a bad liberal at home” – a charge that stung.36 Nationalists further emphasized their constitutional, liberal leanings by explicitly distancing themselves from Republicans. The Irish Parliamentary Party, they argued, was simply pursuing its rights as guaranteed by the British Constitution. But if the British failed to address the problem constitutionally, a more revolutionary threat was likely to emerge. Although Constitutional Nationalists, as Parnell argued in 1885, “had 33 34 35 36

Quoted in ibid., 134. C.f. Curtis 1988, 181. Curtis 1988, 181. Quoted in Lyons 1977, 259. Hammond 1964, 120.

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done their utmost . . . to direct the minds of the people to a constitutional issue, but if the constitution was forbidden to them it would not have been their fault if constitutional methods . . . failed.”37 Constitutional Nationalists also legitimated Home Rule to the British with appeals to imperial rhetoric, arguing that Home Rule would strengthen, not undermine the empire. The party argued that the national movement was loyal to the empire, even if it was calling into question the Act of Union; if Home Rule was to be achieved, “We would not cease to be subjects of the Queen. The Queen would be our Queen. She would be the link that would attach Ireland to Great Britain. We would consent even to be governed by a Viceroy, provided there were no exceptional laws and the Viceroy had no more rights, no more arbitrary powers, over us than Queen Victoria has over her English subjects.”38 With Home Rule, “there is not the slightest risk or danger of separation;”39 a self-governing Ireland “could not be a threat to Britain or to the empire.” If anything, Constitutional Nationalists claimed, Home Rule would strengthen the empire. The principle which we contend for you is a very simple one. It is the principle which has enabled your colonies to thrive and prosper and remain loyal to the Empire . . . It is a principle under which free America has consolidated and grown to the enormous extent which is the wonder and admiration of the world . . . the principle of the happiness and prosperity of the greatest number, and the rule of the majority of a nation, and of the power of looking after those concerns, those small Irish concerns which you, the rich English nation, have been proved by experience to be utterly unable to attend to.40

In sum, when speaking to a Republican audience, Constitutional Nationalists would emphasize revolutionary aims, whereas a British audience would elicit liberal and imperial legitimation strategies. A second tactic Constitutional Nationalists deployed was the use of ambiguous language – they would use vague, multivocal symbols and rhetoric that different audiences would interpret in contrasting, even mutually exclusive ways. These legitimation strategies were particularly useful. There was no need for Constitutional Nationalists to worry about speeches being heard by the wrong audience; each coalition would interpret the language as they saw fit. As a result, the same speech could 37 38 39 40

The Nation, September 5, 1885. United Ireland, March 31, 1883. Freeman’s Journal, June 26, 1886. Quoted in Lyons 1977, 447.

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resonate with multiple audiences, and build broad support for Home Rule. For example, a ubiquitous historical symbol in Constitutional Nationalist rhetoric was that of Grattan’s Parliament. Constitutional Nationalist references to the Irish Parliament of 1782 are innumerable; they appear in addresses to the House of Commons, letters to Gladstone, as well as in private meetings among the Irish Parliamentary Party. In its most famous formulation, Parnell used the symbol to rally crowds in an 1885 speech in Cork: I do not know how [the Home Rule] question will be eventually settled. I do not know whether England will be wise in time and concede to constitutional arguments and methods the restitution of that which was stolen from us towards the close of the last century . . . it is impossible for us say to what extent that justice shall be done. We cannot ask for less than the restitution of Grattan’s Parliament (cheers) with its important privileges and wide ranging constitution. We cannot, under the British Constitution, ask for more than the restitution of Grattan’s Parliament. (Renewed cheers). But no man has the right to fix the boundary to the march of a nation (great cheering); no man has the right to say to his country “Thus far shalt thou go and no further,” and we have never attempted to fix the ne plus ultra to the progress of Ireland’s nationhood, and we never shall.41

As argued by Francis Stewart Leland Lyons, “The calculated ambiguity of these sentences needs no stressing. To some of those who heard or read him he seemed to have left the road to full independence wide open. To others, although their knowledge of Grattan’s Parliament might be rusty, the phrases in which he described it sounded agreeably constitutional and that could not be bad.”42 Indeed, Grattan’s Parliament was a useful symbol because it was all things to all people. It simultaneously called for separatism on Nationalist and Republican terms, but justified that call in terms of historical precedent. Moreover, to the British, it signified a (much idealized) time when Ireland and England enjoyed imperial unity but maintained separate parliaments. In sum, Constitutional Nationalists deployed multiple and ambiguous legitimation strategies to justify Ireland’s claims. The qualified appeals to independence, the rhetorical violence, and the ambiguous language were all designed to present an ever-shifting image of what Home Rule was – how the Nationalists defined Home Rule was different depending on the 41 42

Times, January 22, 1885, 10. Lyons 1977, 261.

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audience. The effect of this strategy was that each of the targeted coalitions came to see Home Rule as a legitimate, even if not desirable, solution. The Constitutional Nationalists’ strategy, by appearing legitimate to otherwise irreconcilable groups, created a platform upon which all could work for a compromise on the Irish question.

legitimation strategies and coalition effects From 1885 to 1916, Home Rule dominated Anglo-Irish politics. Although debate over Home Rule was always heated, evidence suggests these legitimation strategies were critical in ensuring the divisibility of Home Rule in 1886. In particular, Constitutional Nationalists’ rhetoric resonated with Republicans, Liberals, and Conservatives, building ground for negotiation among these coalitions. The Republican–Nationalist Alliance The preferences of Republicans and Constitutional Nationalists were quite close: both sought Home Rule, even though they adopted different strategies in pursuing this goal. These coalitions had a clear interest in working together to address Irish grievances. Only by joining forces could Republicans and Constitutional Nationalists mobilize the resources necessary to pursue Home Rule. Without the Republicans, the Constitutional Nationalists would lose monetary support from the United States. Moreover, the Constitutional Nationalists hoped to build off the agrarian movement, which had deep ties to Republican institutions – only by harnessing agrarian protest could the Constitutional Nationalists build the mass movement they needed for Home Rule. For the Republicans, allying with the Nationalists would ensure a presence in the British Parliament, and a chance to reform policy from within the British government.43 But these shared interests did not ensure strong relations between Constitutional Nationalists and Republicans. Republicans had rejected earlier attempts to work with the Nationalists, viewing them as wholly illegitimate representatives of Ireland’s claims.44 For example, in 1870 Isaac Butt, who led the Irish Parliamentary Party from 1874 to 1879,45 43 44 45

Ibid., 1977, 103; Loughlin 1986, 27; Jackson 1999, 119. See Lyons 1977, 861; and O’Day 1998, 45. Then called the Home Rule Party.

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attempted to bring Republicans into the Home Rule Movement. On May 19, 1870, Butt inaugurated the Home Government Association in a meeting attended by both Constitutional Nationalists and Republicans.46 Despite their initial willingness to work with Butt, Republican coalitions did not sit well with his moderate legitimation strategies. His appeals to Home Rule were singularly constitutional and liberal, language that garnered the approval of British parliamentarians and Irish moderates. Butt refused to use revolutionary language to legitimate Home Rule, or make any appeals to Republican, separatist causes. He firmly believed that “it was important for Irish MPs to show their decorum and sense of responsibility in the House of Commons that their country was fit for self-government and that this policy – essentially a policy of conciliation – was the only possible path to parliamentary influence.”47 By 1876, these “advanced” nationalists charged that no true Irish nationalist could recognize the legitimacy of the Home Rule Party under Butt. In December 1878, John Dillon, a young member of the IRB who would become one of Ireland’s preeminent nationalist leaders, stated that “No honest Irish nationalist can any longer continue to recognize Mr. Butt as leader;”48 others went so far as to call Butt a “traitor to the cause.”49 The Constitutional Nationalists’ strong ties with Parliament further led Republicans to dismiss them as illegitimate, more British than Irish in their interests; one journalistic account relates that a young boy refused to shake hands with Butt, as he would “not shake hands with this Englishman.”50 In contrast, under Parnell the Constitutional Nationalists’ strengthening social ties and ambiguous language ensured that Home Rule would resonate with the Republican factions.51 Parnell and other party members gained notoriety among Republicans by mounting an obstruction campaign at Westminster, using long speeches to filibuster parliamentary action and force the House of Commons to address the issue of 46

47 48 49 50

51

On the details of this meeting, and on Butt’s philosophy generally, see Thornley 1960. Although an established conservative Protestant attorney, Butt had gained the trust of republicans by defending Fenians in the trials that followed the 1867 rebellion. See Lyons 1985, 147. Lyons 1985, 155. Freeman’s Journal, December 2, 1878. Lyons 1977, 86. Jackson 2003, 24. Many Constitutional Nationalists, too, saw the militant, separatist tactics of the IRB as unlawful and unjustified. Lyons 1977, esp. 103–5, 110, 261; Lyons 1985, 172–73; Jackson 1999, 119; O’Brien 1957, 37–38; Curtis 1988, 181; Loughlin 1986, 27.

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Home Rule.52 Although conservative parliamentary leaders rejected such tactics – Butt himself publicly rebuked Parnell for the campaign – it drew Republicans closer to the Home Rule cause. As James J. O’Kelly, a member of the IRB Supreme Council, argued, “There are many advantages to be gained even at Westminster by a really bold and independent Irish legislation.”53 Similarly, Parnell’s seemingly revolutionary rhetoric in support of Home Rule “won him Irish American dollars and Fenian plaudits.”54 Constitutional Nationalists’ rhetoric created a common platform, and allowed Republicans to accept Home Rule as a legitimate pursuit.55 Constitutional Nationalists’ ability to strategically balance between each of these groups was critical to sustaining the Home Rule movement. When Nationalists appeared to tip too far in the constitutional direction, they risked losing the support of the offended coalition. But as long as legitimation strategies resonated, they could maintain ties between those who desired constitutional reform of the status of Ireland on the one hand, and those who pursued a separatist course of action on the other. In doing so, Constitutional Nationalists created room for compromise among otherwise irreconcilable factions.

the british and the constitutionalist case An appeal to Republicans was not enough to secure Home Rule and Ireland’s divisibility. If Constitutional Nationalists were to obtain Home Rule, their appeals had to resonate with British coalitions as well. In Britain, Constitutional Nationalists faced an uphill battle. For many years Irish grievances had been dismissed as illegitimate, largely tarred with the brush of Republican action and rhetoric. Even Liberals, sympathetic to Irish grievances, refused to pursue the issue, and public opinion overwhelmingly denounced Home Rule. By 1885, however, a veritable revolution had occurred in the politics of the Irish question. In that year, Constitutional Nationalists managed to persuade both the Conservative and Liberal parties that Home Rule was legitimate. Constitutional Nationalists built a solid coalition with the Liberal leadership, a coalition that would last until 1916. Whereas their relations with Conservatives were more strained, Constitutional Nationalists worked closely with this

52 53 54 55

On the obstruction campaign, see Thornley 1960. Lyons 1977, 72. Jackson 2003, 41. Lyons 1977, 103; Loughlin 1986, 27; Jackson 1999, 119.

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coalition in the 1880s, and had fairly regular negotiations with the party through the early twentieth century. Part of Constitutional Nationalists’ success can be attributed to changes in domestic politics. By 1885, Constitutional Nationalists controlled enough seats in the House of Commons to hold the balance of power between Conservatives and Liberals.56 But electoral shifts were not in and of themselves sufficient to create alliances or an acceptance of Home Rule. Home Rule had long appeared a Republican program, and thus an inherent threat to the legitimacy of the empire, and indeed the entirety of the constitutional system.57 As long as this image persisted, a settlement on the Home Rule issue was unattainable. It was Nationalists’ legitimation strategies that created space for compromise. With its emphasis on constitutional and liberal tropes, Constitutional Nationalist rhetoric convinced most of the leadership that compromise with Parnell was both legitimate and possible. These legitimation strategies did not have a uniform effect on British politics. Most Liberals were ultimately persuaded that a separate parliament was a just response to Irish grievances, a policy put forward in the Home Rule Bill of 1886; however, this position was not accepted across the board, and Gladstone’s Home Rule Bill led to a split in the Liberal Party. With some notable exceptions, Conservatives remained convinced that a separate parliament for Ireland could only lead to the dismemberment of the empire, an outcome not only unacceptable but inconceivable. Yet although this rhetoric failed to persuade much of the Conservative audience to accept a Home Rule Bill, it did persuade the vast majority of British politicians that the Home Rule movement was a legitimate call for constitutional reform of Ireland’s status within the empire.58 By emphasizing constitutional reform, professing loyalty to the empire, and calling upon ambiguous historical symbols as precedent, Constitutional Nationalists ensured that Home Rule was a viable solution to the Anglo-Irish conflict, and that all coalitions perceived the conflict as divisible. The Liberal Reaction: To Save the Empire, One Must Reform It It may be tempting to explain Constitutional Nationalists’ success with the Liberal party as a simple alignment of preferences: both parties, after 56

57 58

The election gave Liberals 335 seats, Tories 249, and the Irish Parliamentary Party 86 seats. Matthew 1990, cxi in Diaries, vol. X; Hammond 1964, 80. Hammond 1964; O’Brien 1957, esp. 159; Loughlin 1986, 55.

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all, believed some sort of governmental reform was in everyone’s best interest. Even as early as 1867, in the wake of the Fenian uprising, Liberals had begun to protest what they saw as British corruption in Ireland. As Gladstone put it, the Liberals: have asked ourselves whether in this state of things we stand clear in the face of Ireland and of the civilised world; whether the laws and institutions are as such as ought to prevail; whether they are such as in the face of national danger we should be bold enough to maintain . . . I have asked myself this question, and I do not find that the laws and institutions in Ireland are such that I am willing to be responsible for maintaining them.59

According to Liberals, saving the Union meant reforming it, creating institutions that would bind England and Ireland “by the indissoluble tie of liberal and equal laws.”60 Liberals did not agree on the form these institutions would take. Some Liberals opposed Home Rule, preferring a federal solution that would devolve power throughout the empire, and not just in Ireland alone.61 For others, however, an autonomous parliament for Ireland was not out of the question. If interests alone dictated bargaining, then Liberals and Constitutional Nationalists should have been natural bedfellows. But despite their shared preferences, Liberals rejected earlier appeals for compromise from Constitutional Nationalists, on the grounds that the party was overly Fenian in its appeals. Home Rule might be an acceptable outcome, but as long as it appeared a republican demand it seemed an illegitimate challenge to imperial rule.62 Fenianism, according to Liberals, was simply “not compatible with other assumptions about the nature of the [British] political system.” Republican methods, in particular, explicitly challenged the legitimacy of not only the Union, but of any parliamentary attempts to address the Irish question.63 For the British, if Irish demands for reform were to be acceptable, “there must be a line drawn between Fenian demands on the one hand, and the legitimate grievances of the Irish” on the other.64 Thus as long as the question of self-government was presented in Fenian terms, the Liberals ignored the issue as an illegal attack on the empire and the constitutional system. However, when Constitutional 59 60 61 62 63 64

Freeman’s Journal, August 7, 1868. Quoted in Hammond 1964, 162. See e.g., Kendle 1989; Taylor 1971. See Matthew 1990, cxi; and Hammond 1964, 80. Matthew 1990, cxi in Diaries, vol X. Gladstone to General C. Grey, March 28, 1869, Diaries, vol. VII, 45; Hammond 1964, 80.

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Nationalists adopted the language of imperial integrity and liberal constitutionalism to justify Home Rule, their rhetoric began to resonate strongly with British Liberals, especially with Gladstone. So effective were Nationalist claims that many Liberals feared denying Home Rule would appear illegitimate, that “when full expression is given to Irish opinion there will be declared to the world . . . that we hold Ireland by force and by force alone.”65 As H.C. G. Matthew argues, as “Irish demands were becoming systematized in a call for constitutional reform and institutionalized in a Home Rule party which was assimilable within the ideology of British politics,” this “was bound to put the Liberals on the spot . . . the demands might be disliked but they were not instantly incompatible with the assumptions of contemporary policy makers, unless, that is, ‘Home Rule’ came to be seen as an aspect of Fenianism. . . . ”66 It was not just a fear of hypocrisy that brought Liberals to the bargaining table. The Constitutional Nationalists’ rhetoric persuaded many Liberals that Home Rule was the only legitimate solution to Irish demands. By 1885, most Liberals were convinced that Home Rule demands were not only consistent with the British Constitution, but practically mandated by liberal ideology. Popular Irish support for Home Rule was increasingly apparent both in elections and in mass protest. After the 1885 elections had returned a vast majority of Home Rule proponents to Parliament, Constitutional Nationalists could argue that Ireland had “clearly and constitutionally spoken” for a policy of Home Rule.67 To ignore Home Rule, Liberals now argued, would signal a tradition of tyranny towards the Irish nation, and thus provoke a “stigma fastened upon her, almost from time immemorial, in respect to Ireland.”68 This was not just a matter of majorities and electoral politics. To deny Home Rule would undermine British liberal principles. As Gladstone argued: People say [the Irish] are never content. Nor would you be content, if you had been opposed as they have been, above all if after having had a parliament of your own for five hundred years and more and had then had it taken away by a mixture of violence and corruption at the Union which disgraces the name of England and is no where to be found in its history. This Parliament they have ever striven to get back . . . Give it to them because it is just.69 65 66 67 68 69

Quoted in Loughlin 1986, 180. Matthew 1990, cxi. See also O’Brien 1957, 159; and Loughlin 1986, 55. Times, April 9, 1886, 5. O’Day 1986, 204; Gladstone 1892. Gladstone to J.E. Barlow, July 1, 1886, Diaries, Vol. XI, 578.

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Moreover Liberals were convinced that Home Rule was not only justified, but that it could be an instrument for strengthening the empire. Responding to Constitutional Nationalist claims, Liberals pointed to nations that had lost territory because they had refused to offer Home Rule – Holland had lost Belgium, Denmark Schleswig-Holstein: “such, with respect to the denial of Home Rule, are the teachings of experience.”70 Home Rule was not dismemberment of the empire, but is possible savior, and in fact no more than what Britain had given to its other colonies: Sixty years ago we governed our own British Colonies from Downing Street. The result was controversy, discontent, sometimes rebellion. We gave them Home Rule, with the same reconciling results as have followed elsewhere; and with this result in particular, that what was denounced here beforehand as separation has produced an Union of hearts between us and the Colonies such had never been known before . . . Home Rule has everywhere appeared as in the nature of a cure, and the denial of it as a loss or a disgrace.71

As Constitutional Nationalists turned to a resonant rhetoric, therefore, Liberals became persuaded of the legitimacy of Constitutional Nationalists’ claims. Even when Constitutional Nationalists now turned to more republican rhetoric, Liberals now justified it as mere words. “Though Parnell is a Sphinx,” Gladstone wrote to Lord Spencer in 1883, “the most probable reading of him is that he works for and with the law as far as he dare.”72 This is not to say that Nationalist legitimation strategies were universally successful; not all Liberals were persuaded that Home Rule was the appropriate solution to Irish demands. Indeed some Liberals, such as Joseph Chamberlain, resigned from the party to protest Home Rule. Even among these Liberal Unionists, however, Constitutional Nationalists’ demands were accepted as legitimate, and Liberal Unionists pledged that they would continue to work toward a compromise on Home Rule. But among the majority of Liberals, the effects of Nationalist rhetoric were far reaching. From 1885 to 1913, Liberals not only supported a Home Rule Bill in Parliament, but worked as the Constitutional Nationalists’ partner. It was a coalition of Liberals and Constitutional Nationalists that drafted the Home Rule Bills of 1886, 1893, and 1913. British Liberals, furthermore, mounted a public relations campaign designed to convince the British masses of the justness of Home Rule. The late 1880s 70 71 72

Matthew 1994, xxxv, in Diaries, Vol. XII. Gladstone 1892. Gladstone to Lord Spencer, June 29, 1883, Diaries, vol X, 467.

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and 1890s saw a campaign of political education, with Liberals and Nationalists issuing pamphlets, making speeches, and writing editorials all in support of Home Rule.73 In sum, by resonating with Liberals, Constitutional Nationalists’ rhetoric built not only a basis for compromise, but support for Home Rule. Conservative Reaction: A Reluctant Legitimacy It is perhaps the Conservative reaction that provides the strongest evidence for legitimation theory. In terms of both ideology and interest, Conservatives should have rejected the legitimacy of Nationalists’ claims. Although Conservatives sought compromise – many believed a federal system was an appropriate middle ground between imperial and self-rule – they remained deeply opposed to Home Rule, arguing that it would undermine British governance. Conservatives, as Chamberlain stated, could “give assent to no measures that would tend to impair the unity and the integrity of the Empire.”74 Legitimation strategies, however, resonate not because of shared interests, but because of the content of the strategy and the position of the speaker. On these grounds, Conservatives were forced to accept Nationalist claims as legitimate, even if this defied their own interest. Nationalist arguments undermined Conservative claims that Home Rule would place the empire in jeopardy. Rather, as Gladstone argued, “Home Rule is . . . a source not of danger but of strength – the danger, if any, lies in refusing it.”75 Moreover, as leaders of an empire that ostensibly championed liberalism, how could Conservatives legitimately reject a majority demand for Home Rule? As one Conservative MP admitted, the Irish “have shown that as far as regards the great majority of them, they are earnestly in favour of a change in the administration of their government, and of some system which would give them a larger control of their domestic affairs. Well, we ourselves by our public declarations and by our liberal principles are pledged to acknowledge the justice of this claim.”76 Thus although Constitutional Nationalists did not convince Conservatives that Home Rule was a desirable solution to the Irish problem, they

73 74 75 76

Matthew 1994, xxxv, in Diaries, Vol XII. Times, December 18, 1885, 7. Gladstone to the editor of the Daily Chronicle. Diaries, Vol. XI, 539. Quoted in Hammond 1964, 459.

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did convince these politicians that Nationalist demands were legitimate. As a result, Constitutional Nationalist legitimation strategies had two concrete effects. First, by using an imperial and liberal rhetoric, Constitutional Nationalists built unprecedented ties between their party and the Conservatives, creating a coalition that believed some sort of compromise over the Irish question was possible.77 Much like Liberals, Conservatives had once rejected Nationalist demands as overtly Fenian, an illegitimate threat to the British Empire. Before 1880, the Conservative view of Irish demands was best represented by Disraeli, who argued when leaving office that in Ireland “a danger, in its ultimate results scarcely less disastrous than pestilence and famine . . . distracts that country. A portion of its population is attempting to sever the Constitutional tie which unites it to Great Britain in that bond which has favoured the power and prosperity of both.”78 Nationalist rhetoric thus opened the door for compromise with the Conservatives. With their appeals to constitutional and historical precedent to legitimate Home Rule, most Conservatives believed the Constitutional Nationalists were singularly moderate.79 When Conservatives came to power in 1886 and then 1895, one sees not the politics of indivisibility, but the politics of compromise.80 None of the Conservatives was comfortable with the idea of a separation between Ireland and England; as Salisbury constantly noted, the Conservatives were pledged to uphold the “integrity of the Empire.”81 But in dealing with Parnell, Conservatives did not see the demand for Home Rule as an all-or-nothing question; rather, they believed that an alternative settlement – most likely far-reaching reform of land laws – was possible. Perhaps more surprisingly, much of the Conservative leadership, including Lord Carnarvon and Churchill, believed that some form of local government in Ireland was both feasible and desirable (although Churchill warned Parnell not to call local government Home Rule in his discussions with Conservatives because “we haven’t educated the party up to it yet”).82 In June 1886, for instance, Salisbury stated that “the extension of local government to Ireland would be a great advantage . . . and would have the effect, though I fear it would be a long one 77 78 79 80 81 82

Ibid. Kendle 1989. Quoted in Hammond 1964, 161. O’Day, 1986, 95. For example, see O’Day 1977, 104. Lyons 1985, 300; Curtis 1963, 427. O’Day 1977, 106.

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of training the Irish gradually into their habits of material forbearance which are necessary for a civilised community.”83 Conservative Cabinet member Michael Hicks Beach similarly noted that “it should be a guiding principle to equalise as far as possible political privileges or disabilities throughout the United Kingdom.”84 Each of these statements appears remarkably close to goals of both Liberals and Home Rulers; as Alan O’Day has argued, “Unionist opinions were sufficiently similar to Parnell’s to reduce the gap between what the Irish demanded and what the conservatives might deliver.”85 Thus, Constitutional Nationalist rhetoric convinced most Conservatives that some sort of compromise on Irish demands was not only necessary but legitimate, even as they continued to oppose Home Rule. The problem faced by Conservatives, therefore, was how to convince the Liberals and Home Rulers to accept their definition of self-government, and the proposed federal split of sovereignty within the empire. Here, however, Conservatives were faced with a problem. By 1886, Nationalists convinced Liberals to support Home Rule; with Liberals firmly in their corner, Constitutional Nationalists were unlikely to accept a solution short of Home Rule. Moreover, Conservatives recognized that Home Rule was gaining not only legitimacy but popularity in Britain: Gladstone and Parnell were persuading the British public that with a majority in Ireland for self-government, Home Rule was the only just answer to Irish claims. So successful were Nationalist strategies that by the mid-1880s, Home Rule appeared unavoidable.86 Nationalist arguments, in sum, backed Conservatives into a rhetorical corner, where they were forced to accept the legitimacy of Nationalist claims even though they opposed Home Rule. So powerful were Nationalist strategies that by the end of the century, Home Rule appeared unavoidable.87

conclusion This chapter has argued that, from the 1870s on, Constitutional Nationalists used their network position to construct Ireland as indivisible territory. Situated in a wide-reaching network of coalitions, Constitutional 83 84 85 86 87

Times, June 19, 1886, 12. Ibid., June 21, 1886, 6. O’Day 1998, 124. See Hammond 1964; and O’Brien 1957. Ibid.

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Nationalists used legitimation strategies designed to ensure that Home Rule would resonate with diverse parties in Anglo-Irish politics. By securing coalitions with Republicans, Liberals, even British Conservatives, Constitutional Nationalists built the foundation for a negotiable settlement to the Irish problem. But Constitutional Nationalists’ success would ultimately prove shortlived. By the early twentieth century, the grounds for a settlement had disappeared, and Ireland and Britain edged closer and closer to a civil war. The reason for this shift, I argue, lies in a profound change in legitimation strategies. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Conservatives worked to undermine support for Home Rule. To do so, Conservatives strategically abandoned the imperial rhetoric that had once underpinned their opposition to Home Rule, and instead turned to a new legitimation strategy: Home Rule was now illegitimate, not because it would weaken the empire, but because it was an untenable infringement of Ulster’s rights. It was this change in rhetoric that proved fatal to a negotiated solution. By deploying the “Orange Card,” Conservatives unwittingly destroyed all legitimate bases for a Home Rule settlement and constructed Ireland as indivisible territory.

4 “Ulster Will Fight” The Orange Card and an Indivisible Ireland

In the nineteenth century, the Anglo-Irish conflict was very much divisible. Far from taking intractable positions, all sides believed that shared sovereignty was a legitimate settlement to territorial conflict. With Irish and British public opinion firmly behind them, Liberals and Constitutional Nationalists introduced a Home Rule Bill on April 11, 1912, fully confident that it would pass by a large majority.1 Despite this optimism, from 1912 to 1921 compromise proved impossible. By 1912, British Conservatives refused to allow autonomous rule for Ireland unless Northern Ireland was partitioned, excluded from the Irish autonomous parliament. This position, not surprisingly, proved entirely illegitimate to both Constitutional Nationalists and Republicans, who saw partition as an affront to the integrity of the Irish nation. At the same time, the Irish began to frame Home Rule as a republican demand. Whereas Irish nationalism had long been portrayed as commensurate with imperial rule – the Irish could be both a separate nation and imperial subject – Irish parties now rejected any allegiance to the Crown. Neither identity nor interests are sufficient to explain this change in positions. Certainly one cannot tell this story of bargaining failure without discussing nationalism and religion; yet if identities had not led to indivisible territorial claims in the past, why did they do so now? When viewed as a question of interest the indivisibility of the conflict is also

1

Although Liberals and Nationalists secured a majority for Home Rule, the House of Lords protected the Conservatives through their veto power over the House of Commons, which existed until 1911. Without the veto, historians argue Home Rule would have passed in 1890. See Hammond 1964, 601; and Lyons 1977.

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puzzling. However polarized the British and Irish positions, this polarization was not one of interests. As demonstrated below, these parties agreed on the substance of a theoretical settlement. Whatever the congruence of interests, by 1912, Conservatives and Nationalists came to the bargaining table with mutually incompatible claims. The theory here argues that indivisibility was constructed through the legitimation process. In 1886, British Conservatives, faced with the prospect of Home Rule, changed their legitimation strategy from one based on imperial integrity to rhetoric that used the Protestant minority in Ulster to justify resistance to Home Rule.2 This change in legitimation strategies was strategic: Conservatives were not seriously committed to the Orange societies, but hoped their rhetoric would delegitimate Irish demands for Home Rule. But once used, the Conservatives’ “Orange Card” had utterly unanticipated switching effects, which ultimately locked all parties into positions where they could no longer recognize each other’s claims as legitimate. New coalitions were mobilized, alliances shattered and, perhaps most profoundly, an entirely new actor – that of a unified Ulster – appeared at the bargaining table. As these networks changed, politicians were increasingly constrained; legitimation strategies eliminated room for compromise, and created indivisible conflict. In the next section, I analyze the shift in Conservatives’ legitimation strategies, showing that in 1886 Conservatives changed their rhetoric from an emphasis on imperial integrity to the rhetoric of Ulster’s rights. This change was strategic and not ideological, a response to the immediate political pressures of Home Rule. Following this discussion, I trace the effects of the Conservatives’ novel legitimation strategy, arguing that this rhetoric produced three switching effects. First, the Conservative strategy yoked together Ulster as an actor, creating a new political identity in Anglo-Irish politics. Second, the Conservative strategy mobilized Ulster Unionists. This mobilization, I argue, was unintentional. Although Conservatives had little interest in strengthening Ulster’s position, their own rhetoric secured Ulster Unionists’ stunning influence within the British party. Finally, I argue that Conservative rhetoric had three polarizing effects on Anglo-Irish politics: it severed ties between British Conservatives and moderate Irish Conservatives; it broke relations between Conservatives and Constitutional Nationalists; and it eliminated ties between Constitutional Nationalists and Republicans in Irish politics. 2

See e.g., Boyce 1970, 112; Buckland 1973; Savage 1961.

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The concluding sections examine lock-in effects during negotiations from 1912 to 1921. As predicted, the majority of negotiations failed to produce any agreement on Home Rule. Although each party had an interest in compromise, their positions proved too inflexible to reach a legitimate settlement. Moreover, these negotiations faltered not on issues of material interests or concrete power, but on the symbols of legitimacy. Finally, these sections demonstrate that the one case of a signed settlement – the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921 – demonstrates the lock-in effects of legitimation strategies. Actors who signed the treaty were punished, some were executed, and the treaty was rejected as illegitimate, an outcome that has provoked almost a century of violence, and unrest which continues to the present day.

conservatives and the search for legitimacy During the 1880s, Conservatives searched for new legitimation strategies, ones that could undermine the Constitutional Nationalists’ case for Home Rule. Not all of their rhetorical choices succeeded in delegitimating Home Rule. For example, in response to Constitutional Nationalists’ liberal rhetoric, Conservatives questioned if liberal principles were relevant to the Irish case, asking whether the Irish were racially fit for Home Rule. An infamous speech of Salisbury’s, for example, argued against Home Rule by noting “You would not confide free representative institutions to the Hottentots, for instance.” Then going on, “When you come to narrow it down you will find that this – which is called self-government but is really government by the majority – works admirably well when it is confided to people who are of Teutonic race, but that it does not work so well when people of other races are called upon to join in it.”3 Conservatives also attempted to delegitimate Constitutional Nationalists by portraying them as republican militants. By showing the public that Irish nationalists were violent criminals, some Conservatives hoped to undermine Nationalists’ constitutional rhetoric, and thus decrease support for Home Rule.4 For example, in 1887 the Times ran a series of articles entitled “Parnellism and Crime,” claiming that the leaders of the nationalist movement “have been, and are, in notorious and continuous relations with avowed murderers.”5 Using the Times’s charges, 3 4 5

Quoted in Hammond 1964, 468–9. Ibid., 587. Times, March 7, 1887, 8.

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Conservative leaders criticized the Liberal Party, chiding it for having, in Salisbury’s words, “mixed on terms of intimacy with those whose advocacy of assassination was well known.”6 Both of these strategies ultimately failed. Racial remarks outraged both the British and Irish public, so much so that Liberals and Constitutional Nationalists used the remarks to their benefit: “For the next half-dozen years it would be safe to say that there was not one Liberal meeting in ten at which some speaker did not repeat the assertion, that Lord Salisbury had declared Irishmen on a level with Hottentots.”7 So too did the charges of militancy ultimately fall on deaf ears. In February 1889, it was discovered that the charges against Constitutional Nationalists were based on forged evidence, making the Conservative leaders appear more illiberal than ever.8 Each of these attempts to undermine Home Rule only increased public interest in the issue, and fired a surge in support for Constitutional Nationalist and Liberal candidates.9 A third attempt at delegitimation, however, would prove more effective in challenging Home Rule. During the 1886 debate over the Home Rule Bill, Conservatives played the Orange Card, altering their legitimation strategy from one which justified opposition on the grounds of imperial integrity, to a strategy framing the policy as an attack on Protestant rights in Ulster. It was this strategy that would reconfigure coalitions, and construct Ireland as indivisible. Playing the Orange Card Conservatives began using Ulster rhetoric in 1886 in an attempt to block the first Home Rule Bill. On February 22, 1886, Randolph Churchill went to Belfast to make the first of a series of notorious speeches condemning Home Rule. It was here that Churchill introduced the Orange Card, and the speech is worth quoting at length: It is right and useful that I should add that if the struggle [over Home Rule] should continue, and if my conclusions should turn out to be worn, then I am of opinion that the struggle is not likely to remain within the lines of what we are accustomed to look upon as constitutional action. No portentous change such as the repeal of the Union, no change so gigantic could be accomplished by the mere passing of a law . . . 6 7 8 9

Lyons 1977, 378. Hammond 1964, 469. Lyons 1977, 424–25. Hammond 1964, 600.

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. . . if it should turn out that the Parliament of the United Kingdom was so recreant from all its high duties, and that the British nation was so apostate to its traditions of honour and courage as to hand over the Loyalists of Ireland to the domination of an assembly in Dublin, which must essentially be to them a foreign and an alien assembly, if it should be within the design of providence to place upon you and your fellow loyalists so heavy a trial, then, gentlemen, I do not hesitate to say and to tell you, and to tell you most truly, that in that dark hour there will not be wanting to you those who on all hands in England are willing to cast in their lot with you, and who, whatever the result may be, will share your fortune and your fate.10

Or, as Churchill put far more succinctly later on, “Ulster will fight, and Ulster will be right.” Churchill’s speech was followed by an immediate and marked increase in Orange rhetoric among Conservatives. A content analysis of Conservative rhetoric demonstrates this shift. From 1875 to 1885, there were less than ten attempts to use Ulster rhetoric to discount Home Rule. When the rhetoric was used, it was considered radical, and even Conservatives criticized the language as unnecessarily sectarian.11 In contrast, from February 1886 (Churchill’s visit to Ulster) to June 1886 (the end of the first Home Rule Debate) there were seventy-two speeches – in Parliament or to the general public – in which Conservative politicians justified their opposition to Home Rule on the basis of Ulster. By the twentieth century, Ulster rhetoric dominated Conservatives’ opposition to Home Rule, particularly parliamentary debates over Home Rule from 1912 to 1914. As the third Home Rule Bill came to the floor in 1912, Conservatives charged that “it is impossible to grant Home Rule . . . the opposition of Ulster . . . makes it impossible . . . If there is any ground upon which you can say that the Nationalists of Ireland are entitled to separate treatment as against us, the ground is far stronger for separate treatment of Ulster.”12 Thus from 1886 onward, Conservatives legitimated their opposition to Home Rule by appealing less to the rhetoric of empire, and more to the cause of Protestant rights. What explains this shift from imperial to religious rhetoric? At first glance, it might appear that Conservatives 10 11

12

Times, February 23, 1886, 10. For this analysis, I analyzed 228 articles in the Times that contained Home Rule and Ulster in a single article. In most of these articles, the association is meaningless. In forty-two of the articles there was a linkage between Ulster and Home Rule, but thirtythree of these were denouncing attempts by the Orangemen to become involved in the issue. Quoted in Blake 1955, 127.

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played the Orange Card for ideological reasons. Conservatives had long supported Protestant rights in Britain, on the grounds that the Anglican Church was central to English identity. Yet historical evidence suggests that the ideological link between Conservatives and Ulster Protestants should not be overstated. Although Conservatives supported the Protestant Ascendancy, they did not identify with Ulster Protestants, believing them too militant and extreme to be effective allies. Legitimation theory provides a more convincing explanation of the change in legitimation strategies. The theory suggests that when actors find themselves losing at the bargaining table, they have incentives to choose new legitimation strategies. As argued in Chapter 2, not every actor has the capacity to change rhetoric – legitimation strategies are as much about position as interest. In this case, Conservatives had the position to use the Orange Card. Conservatives had well-defined cultural and social ties to Protestant Ascendancy, a history of acting as the guardian of Protestant rights and principles within the United Kingdom.13 Most notably, Conservatives – then the Tory Party – had fought Catholic Emancipation as an attack on Protestant Ascendancy, and indeed Britain’s very identity as a Protestant nation.14 These historical connections established Conservatives as the legitimate representative of Protestantism. This position raised the possibility that Conservatives could marry this Protestant rhetoric with the Home Rule issue. Conservatives could legitimate their opposition to Home Rule on the grounds of protecting those Protestants concentrated in Ulster from tyrannical Catholic rule.15 Once backed into a rhetorical corner, Conservatives saw two strategic reasons for playing the Orange Card: they believed it would undercut the legitimacy of the Liberal and Conservative argument, and that it would help build public support for Home Rule. First, Conservatives hoped a Protestant legitimation strategy would delegitimate the Nationalist and Liberal position on Home Rule. By emphasizing religious concerns, Conservatives could render the question of imperial integrity moot. The last chapter showed that Liberals and Nationalists had effectively legitimated 13 14

15

See Shipkey 1987; and Boyce 1990. On the Tory party and Catholic Emancipation, see Boyce 1990, 43; O’Ferrall 1985; and Shipkey 1987. Many Protestants lived in the south as part of the landlord class, and opposed the partition of Ulster. On Southern Unionism, see Lyons 1968; Savage 1961; Boyce 1970; and Stubbs 1990.

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Home Rule as a tool to strengthen the empire. If Conservatives redefined Home Rule as an attack on Protestant rights, the issue would now be not whether the empire could survive, but whether England was abandoning its Protestant kin in Ulster. Moreover, Conservatives used Ulster rhetoric to claim that Home Rule was patently illiberal – not a symbol of liberalism and constitutionalism, as Liberals and Nationalists suggested. Conservatives demanded that their opponents explain “what argument is there that you can raise for giving Home Rule to Ireland that you do not equally raise for giving Home Rule to that Protestant minority the north-east province? I believe there is none.”16 If Liberals and Constitutional Nationalists were willing to place the Protestant nation under Catholic rule, against their will, they were no better than tyrants. As Lord Hugh Cecil argued, “What right have you to say to the people of Ulster, ‘We are going to create a nation, and, much as you dislike it, you shall belong to that nation?’ Has any Liberal statesman ever used language of that kind before today?”17 Similarly, in 1911 an editorial in the Times derided Asquith’s plans for Home Rule, arguing “How can Home Rule be the charter of an Irish nation if onethird of the Irish people decline to accept it . . . How can it be a triumph for freedom, an act of liberation, if Ulster has to be coerced, whether morally or physically?”18 Second, Conservatives gambled that a legitimation strategy of Protestant rights would resonate more strongly with the British public than had the rhetoric of imperial integrity.19 Through their liberal commitments, Liberals and Irish Nationalists had captured the British public’s sympathy for Home Rule, and Conservatives hoped to undercut this public support. They charged that “Home Rule” was no more than “Rome Rule,” not an actual call for national determination, but a chance for the much-reviled Catholic Church to make headway in British politics. Conservatives further published a series of essays under the title of “Against Home Rule: the Case for the Union,” which argued to the British public that: Ireland is not a nation; it is two nations. It is two nations separated from each other by lines of cleavage which cut far deeper than those which separate Great Britain from Ireland as a whole. Every argument which can be adduced in favour 16 17 18 19

Hansard, April 11, 1912, col. 1440. Hansard, January 1, 1913, col. 411. Times, September 25, 1911, 10. See Boyce 1970; Buckland 1973.

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of separate treatment for the Irish nationalist minority as against the majority of the United Kingdom applies with far greater force in favour of separate treatment for the Unionists of Ulster as against the majority of Ireland . . . The men who compose this [Ulster] minority ask no special privilege. They demand only – and they will not demand in vain – that they should not be deprived against their will of the protection of British law and the rights of British citizenship.20

In Ulster, Conservatives pledged British popular support, telling Ulster’s Protestants (as Churchill did) that “there will not be wanting to you those who on all hands in England are willing to cast in their lot with you.”21 In sum, Conservatives believed that the Orange Card could effectively counter Constitutional Nationalists’ legitimation strategies. Their aim was not to undercut a compromise with the Liberals and Nationalists, but to force a settlement in keeping with Conservative concerns. Despite fierce language, Conservatives sought negotiation, not deadlock, and had no intention of abandoning a negotiated settlement to the Irish question.22 In essence, Conservatives hoped to use the Orangemen as a rhetorical commitment device. By undermining the legitimacy of the Liberal and Nationalist position and building support for their own, Conservatives intended to persuade Nationalists and Liberals to move closer to their position. As Churchill noted, “I decided some time ago that if Gladstone went for Home Rule, the Orange card would be the one to play. Please God it may turn out the ace of trumps and not the two.”23 The Conservative strategy, however, had little immediate effect. Indeed, Liberals and Nationalists secured a majority for Home Rule, and a successful Home Rule Bill was perceived as inevitable.24 But as Chapter 2 argues, legitimation strategies can have unintended structural consequences. Although the strategy failed to resonate in the short term, over time the Orange Card would dramatically transform Anglo-Irish politics. In their appeal to Protestant rights, Conservatives would lock themselves into a position where the issue of Home Rule – and more specifically, the issue of Ulster – was no longer open to compromise. 20 21 22 23

24

Times, April 11, 1912, 8. Times, February 23, 1886, 10. See Boyce 1970; and Lyons 1985, 202. Randolph Churchill papers. Available at http://www.winstonchurchill.org/i4a/pages/ index.cfm?pageid=165. Accessed July 30, 2007. Although Liberals and Nationalists secured a majority for Home Rule, the House of Lords protected the Conservatives through their veto power over the House of Commons, which existed until 1911. Without the veto, historians argue Home Rule would have passed in 1890. See Hammond 1964, 601; and Lyons 1977.

“Ulster Will Fight” Anglo-Irish politics, 1886

89 Anglo-Irish politics, 1912

Liberals

Nationalists

Nationalists

Liberals

Conservatives

Republicans

Republicans Moderate Unionists

Conservatives Ulster

figure 4.1. Network changes in Anglo-Irish politics, 1886–1912.

legitimation strategies and switching effects From 1886 to 1912, the map of Anglo-Irish politics changed dramatically. The Orange Card, although strategic, had vast unintended structural consequences, which transformed this network of coalitions and, in the process, constructed Ireland as indivisible. As Figure 4.1 illustrates, new coalitions were mobilized, alliances shattered, and perhaps most profoundly, an entirely new actor – that of a unified Ulster – appeared at the bargaining table. Yoking First, the Conservative legitimation strategy had a yoking effect: it actually created Ulster as a political identity. Now the British certainly did not invent Ulster’s grievances, or the demographic fact that Protestants were concentrated in Ulster. Yet although there was strong support for the Union among Protestants in Ireland, before 1886 Ulster itself was fragmented by religion and class. The Ulster Unionists – those party members who supported the Act of Union against Constitutional Nationalists’ claims – were largely composed of the landed elite; they remained isolated from the Orange societies’ professional and manufacturing class, and were viewed with suspicion by tenant farmers and laborers.25 Nor was there a coherent Protestant identity – Ulster was rife with religious divisions, particularly among Anglicans and Presbyterians. These divides 25

Jackson 2001, 118–19.

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were not only theological. For years, Anglican churches – as the official church of state – had received overwhelming government resources, while Presbyterian parishes remained impoverished. In addition, Anglican/ Presbyterian divides often overlapped with ethnic and class divisions as well, with Presbyterians largely Scottish settlers, and Anglicans hailing from English soil.26 In the years after 1886, however, Ulster would emerge as a cohesive and powerful identity, a unity neither nationalism nor interests can explain. One could suggest that Ulster’s appearance was a simple reaction to threat, an attempt to preserve Protestant identity in the face of the Nationalists’ challenge. Yet Protestants in Ulster had perceived such threats before and had failed to respond with any unity. Moreover, even during the Home Rule debate, not all Protestants unified against Home Rule, and many Protestants in southern Ireland continued to negotiate a devolution of power with Irish Nationalists.27 Yoking – the creation of new identities – was instead contingent on Conservative legitimation strategies; Ulster became a coherent actor only once Conservatives articulated its existence as a political identity. Two conditions in particular made yoking possible. First, the Conservative Orange Card was a cultural invention, merging historical appeals to Protestant rights and identity with the Unionist fight against Home Rule. Certainly this was not the first time religion emerged as an issue in AngloIrish politics. But in the debate over Home Rule, religion had largely fallen by the wayside. For both Constitutional Nationalists and Republicans, Irish autonomy was a secular and national, not religious issue. Although appealing to the Catholic Church for support, each of these parties deliberately avoided rhetoric that would reinforce Catholic and Protestant divisions.28 For Conservatives, Home Rule was not really about religion or Ulster’s special rights. Home Rule continued to be an issue of imperial governance, a question of whether an autonomous parliament in Ireland would undermine Britain’s growing empire. Yet Conservative appeals to 26 27 28

See e.g. Glaser 1960. See Gailey 1984; Lyons 1948; and O’Day 1998, 178–202. In the 1880s, Constitutional Nationalists vigorously campaigned in the northern counties for support of Home Rule and land reform, hoping to draw support from Presbyterian tenant farmers. Much of the leadership of the Constitutional Nationalist Party – including Isaac Butt and Charles Stewart Parnell – came from Protestant families (Butt, indeed, had been a self-professed Orangeman before his conversion to Home Rule), suggesting that the boundaries of identities were more fluid than often suggested.

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imperial integrity only reinforced Ulster’s fragmentation. These legitimation strategies resonated strongly with the landed elite, but garnered little interest among tenant farmers and professionals.29 In contrast, framing opposition to Home Rule as Ulster’s fight against Catholic tyranny obliterated boundaries between Anglicans and Presbyterians and landed elite and laborer – portraying all Protestants within Ulster as a singular, threatened identity. Conservatives’ position – and specifically, the position of Churchill – is also critical in explaining Ulster’s yoking. Earlier appeals for Ulster’s unity had come from two groups, the landed Ulster Conservatives, and from the leaders of the Orange societies. Like their British counterparts, Ulster Conservatives stressed the unity of Ulster as an imperial necessity. Throughout the 1880s, the party had produced pamphlets attacking the constitutional basis of the Parnellites, arguing that the real aims of this movement were separatist and revolutionary.30 The Orangemen, in contrast, deployed a virulent, religious rhetoric. For example, one set of pamphlets outlined terrifying past instances of Home Rule, declaring that when Catholics had self-government in the seventeenth and eighteenth century, they committed heinous crimes against the Protestant population: “It is no wonder that the Protestants have a dread amounting to terror of being ever again placed in the power of Home Rule.”31 Neither side’s rhetoric, however, had much effect. Ulster Conservatives had few connections to Orange factions and laborers, and as a result, their imperial rhetoric proved dissonant, having little legitimacy with other factions in northern Ireland.32 The Orangemen, with few ties to the landed elite or the British public, were no more convincing. The Times – its editorial staff firmly opposed to Home Rule – denounced Orange protests as having “no political significance.” Home Rule was not a religious issue; bowing to Orange demands would only complicate the issue of Home Rule.33 In contrast, Churchill occupied an identity bridge. A member of Parliament, Churchill also descended from landed nobility: his father was the sixth Duke of Marlborough, his mother, the third Marquess of Londonderry. As a result, he had dense ties with the British landed elite. His 29 30 31 32 33

Jackson 2001. Hammond 1964, 586; Lyons 1977, 378. Loughlin 1986, 164. Ibid.; Buckland 1973, 3–17; Boyce 1970, 112. See e.g. the Times, August 20, 1880; November 12, 1883; December 26, 1885.

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father also had served as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, allowing Churchill to build ties among Ulster Unionists.34 Unlike most within his party, he maintained relations not only with Ireland’s landed elites; he had built a strong network with professionals in Orange societies and church leaders of all denominations, and thus occupied the position necessary for yoking.35 These structural conditions, in short, allowed the Conservative legitimation strategy to yoke fragmented units into the actor of Ulster, an outcome the British Conservatives neither intended nor foresaw.36 As early as 1886, elites in Ulster began to use British rhetoric as a basis for Ulster solidarity. Led by Colonel Edward Saunderson – an MP in the House of Commons – Ulster factions were told to overcome their numerous divisions, and organize against Home Rule on a firmly sectarian basis. Members were urged to “stand by our colours ‘the orange and the blue,’ with the good union jack and let us drive popery and radicalism before us.”37 In December 1904, these factions organized into a single political actor, with the leaders of the Ulster Unionists and the Orange Lodges agreeing to form, an Ulster union for bringing into line all unionist associations in the province of Ulster with a view to consistent and continuous political action; to act as a further connecting link between the Ulster unionists and their parliamentary representatives; to settle in consultation with the parliamentary policy, and to be the medium of expressing Ulster unionist opinion as current events may from time to time require, and generally to advance and defend the interests of Ulster Unionism in the unionist party.38

By the early twentieth century, therefore, Conservative legitimation strategies molded what had been a fragmented set of Protestants into a coherent Ulster identity, an outcome that was neither intended nor expected. Although Conservatives wished to build support for their position, they had little interest in increasing the unity of Ulster’s politicians, those (as Churchill complained to Salisbury) “abominable Ulster Tories.”39 34 35 36 37 38 39

Though as noted below, Churchill’s diaries suggest that he despised the Ulster Unionists. Foster 1980, 237–44. See Boyce 1970, 112; and O’Day 1998, 262. Buckland 1973, 3. Quoted in ibid., 13. Churchill to Lord Salisbury, in the papers of Randolph Churchill. Available at http://www.winstonchurchill.org/i4a/pages/index.cfm?pageid=165. Accessed July 30, 2007.

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Coalition Mobilization Second, the Conservative legitimation strategies produced coalition mobilization. Now yoked into the single actor of Ulster, these elites further used Conservative rhetoric to gain influence in the British party, and firmly tie the fate of these coalitions to each other. This mobilization is puzzling from the perspective of either interests or ideology. Conservatives saw little value to uniting with Ulster. As a coalition, Ulster was financially and politically weak; it was Southern Unionists, those wealthy landowners in the south of Ireland that “possessed exaggerated parliamentary and financial resources.”40 Southern Unionists dominated Irish Unionist representation in Parliament, and indeed the Conservative alliance with Ulster initially produced a decrease in electoral support.41 Moreover, these Southern Unionists were likely to oppose an alliance with radicals in the north. Whereas Ulster Unionists showed little inclination to bargain with Constitutional Nationalists, Southern Unionists pursued land reform and local government in Ireland. British Conservatives had no reason to trade Southern Unionist support for Ulster’s. Nor was the coalition between Ulster and Conservatives a convenient alliance to defeat Home Rule. Although both the Conservatives and Ulster opposed Home Rule, Conservatives still hoped “to support gradualist reform for Irish government, and consequently doubted whether this would be compatible with the immobile Unionism of the new League [the Ulster Unionists].”42 As a result, many Conservatives hesitated to strengthen their ties with the Ulster party. Conservative leaders such as Lords Balfour, Jersey, and Milner were outwardly hostile towards Ulster’s increasing influence within the Conservative Party, with Balfour stating his opposition most bluntly: “I am anxious not to be connected with . . . the extreme ‘Orange’ position.”43 Churchill himself noted that he despised the new Ulster party, that the Ulster factions were “playing the devil in Northern Ireland” and were likely to undermine Conservative attempts at compromise. As a result of Ulster’s mischief, Churchill began to “foresee enormous difficulties in the future with Parnell’s party.”44 40 41 42 43 44

Jackson 2001, 123. Hammond 1964. Jackson 1989, 303. Quoted in Jackson 1989, 303. Churchill to Lord Salisbury, in the papers of Randolph Churchill. Available at http://www.winstonchurchill.org/i4a/pages/index.cfm?pageid=165. Accessed July 30, 2007.

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Ultimately, however, Conservatives believed that Ulster could be useful in the short term as a bluff designed to force Constitutional Nationalists and Liberals to compromise. After 1886, Conservatives fully intended to “tell Ulster to go to the devil,” as Churchill so bluntly stated.45 Why then was Ulster allowed to mobilize so fully within the Conservative Party? As argued in Chapter 2, coalition mobilization is often not an intended outcome; it can be an unanticipated consequence of legitimation strategies. Legitimation strategies mobilized Ulster for two reasons. First, by using the Orange Card, Conservatives created cultural harmony with the movements. Without this cultural harmony, earlier attempts to mobilize had failed. Throughout the 1870s and early 1880s, for example, Orange factions in Ulster had appealed to the Conservative Party for support against Gladstone’s policies with little result. But now, as argued by Alvin Jackson, the “significance of Ulster in British Unionist rhetoric provided loyalist representatives with influence.”46 Second, while Ulster represented only a small number of Conservative supporters, they now had strong and central ties with Conservative networks, giving them the position to exert influence beyond their numbers. What this meant is that what Ulster lacked in material power, it could make up in moral force; because Conservatives’ legitimacy was tied to Ulster’s support, they felt compelled to satiate Ulster opinion. In the 1880s, for example Ulster elites used extensive personal and professional ties to increase Ulster’s influence in the Conservative Party. Within Ireland, Conservatives were compelled to give Ulster Unionists key governmental positions. For instance, Balfour appointed Walter Long – the Englishman perceived to be most sympathetic to militant Unionist opinion – as Chief Secretary of Ireland in 1905. As Balfour admitted, the appointment of Long was consciously intended to “give the Orangemen great satisfaction,”47 and the Ulster Unionists could not have been more satisfied. Long, in turn, promoted Ulster Unionists, such as William Moore and John Atkinson, to positions within the Irish bureaucracy. Ulster further mobilized within the Conservative Party itself.48 In 1910, for instance, the Orange-affiliated Edward Carson was elected head of the Ulster Unionist Party. Even before his selection as the leader of the Ulster Unionist Party, Carson was one of very few MPs to hold a position of

45 46 47 48

Quoted in Boyce 1970, 112. See also Smith 1993. Jackson 1989, 193. See also Boyce 1970. Quoted in ibid., 277. Phillips 1980.

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significance in both Ulster and the Conservative Party.49 As head of the Ulster Unionists, he now occupied a position that had earlier been held by more moderate, traditional Conservatives.50 By 1911, ties between Ulster and the Conservative Party were firmly secured when Andrew Bonar Law, an Ulsterman, was appointed as head of the Conservative Party. The election of Bonar Law immediately increased the importance of Ulster within the Unionist cause; as argued by Law’s biographer, Robert Blake, Bonar Law “felt more strongly about the Ulster question than anything else in politics at this time.”51 Thus, by the early twentieth century, Ulster had mobilized within the Conservative Party. Far from a marriage of interest, Conservatives found themselves beholden to Ulster, forced to accept their growing influence as the price for their legitimacy. Polarization Finally, Conservative legitimation strategies had three polarizing effects. First, they severed Conservative ties with moderates in their own party. These moderates were composed primarily of landed Protestants in Southern Ireland, and had long been a voice of reform in Irish affairs. Second, Conservatives’ rhetoric destroyed their ties with Constitutional Nationalists. Finally, the use of the Orange Card had a third, indirect polarizing effect. The rhetoric exacerbated tensions between the Constitutional Nationalists and Republicans in Ireland, and facilitated polarization between these two parties.

49 50

51

Jackson 1989, 299. Interestingly, like many British Conservatives, Carson pursued the politics of Ulster not so much because of his commitment to these grievances, but because he saw it as a useful way in which to legitimate opposition to Home Rule. For Carson, maintaining the union was, as he stated “the guiding star of my political life”; as Lyons argues, “if he came to appear increasingly the champion of Ulster unionism this was in one highly important respect an illusion. Ulster gave him his base, his striking force, the ultimate sanction behind his speeches of defiance, but in his strategy the aim of Ulster resistance should not be to secure some special status for the north, rather to make Home Rule impossible” (Lyons 1985, 300). But although Carson’s use of Ulster rhetoric may have been strategic, as seen below, it irrevocably tied his authority to Ulster’s fate; Carson’s commitment to Ulster may have been just rhetoric, but it gave him his legitimacy. Blake 1955, 125. In spite of these personal commitments to Ulster, Bonar Law was actually a moderate. Like Carson, while he wished to block Home Rule for as long as possible, he would ultimately prefer compromise to the price of indivisibility. Nevertheless, as seen below, in legitimating his opposition to Home Rule Bonar Law would adopt the extreme language of Ulster that he actually opposed.

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In all of these cases, legitimation strategies polarized coalitions both because of their content and because of the extant structure of the networks. The Conservative Orange Card was dissonant with British Liberals, moderate Conservatives, and Nationalists alike. Gladstone dismissed the notion of Ulster as a separate identity, arguing that “the great majority of the people who are opposed to Home Rule will, when Home Rule is granted, forget past differences. . . . Considerations of common interests will make them join with their fellow-countrymen in carrying on the government of Ireland.”52 Moderates, too, viewed the idea of a separate Ulster as anathema: their commitment was to the preservation of the British Empire, not to some parochial identity in the North. To Nationalists, needless to say, the content of the Orange strategy was entirely dissonant. Rather than see Ulster resistance as a legitimate expression of Protestant concerns, Nationalists believed divisions between Irish Protestants and Catholics were unnatural, fostered by the British to keep the nation stratified. Any attempt to suggest Ireland was not a coherent national identity, therefore, was simply illegitimate.53 Although causing momentous conflict, Conservatives’ dissonance did not entirely polarize relations with Liberals; networks between the British parties were too strong and institutionalized for the strategy to destroy these ties. But the legitimation strategy did polarize networks where existing ties were far weaker: with moderates, Nationalists, and Republicans. Moderate Southern Irish Unionists. The Orange Card polarized relations between Conservatives and moderate Southern Unionists, moving these moderates from a central to a marginal position within the Conservative network. Legitimation strategies did so because they created peripheral pulls between Ulster on the one hand and moderate parties on the other. As a result, Conservatives were forced to abandon moderates within their party. This was a significant transformation. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, these moderates held a place of prestige within the Conservative Party. Although the southern Irish Unionists opposed Home Rule, they believed, just as most Conservatives did, that a compromise could be found in land and political reform. For Southern Unionists, the pursuit of reform was more than just talk. In 1903, Southern Unionists negotiated with Constitutional Nationalists to draft the Wyndham Land Act, hailed as “the most substantial victory gained for centuries 52 53

Loughlin 1986, 235. Gwynn 1932, 220; Finnan 2004, 62.

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by the Irish race for the reconquest of the soil of Ireland by the people.”54 By 1904, Southern Unionists were arguing for vast political reform as well: While firmly maintaining that the parliamentary union between Great Britain and Ireland is essential to the political stability of the empire, and to the prosperity of the two islands, we believe that such union is compatible with the devolution to Ireland of a larger measure of local government than she now possesses.55

The Southern Unionists’ devolution scheme, as presented to Parliament, fell short of Home Rule. Yet it did advocate localization of Irish financial matters, and even recommended that “parliament establish a body to deal with local affairs, such as that established in Scotland.”56 If only ideology and interest dictated coalitions, these Southern Unionists should have remained central to the Conservative Party, their policies becoming the basis for the Conservative position. Ideologically, British Conservatives embraced Southern Unionist reforms; they had long argued that land laws and political reform were key to resolving the Anglo-Irish conflict. As noted in the last chapter, even Conservative leader Lord Salisbury had stated that “the extension of local government to Ireland would be a great advantage,”57 and many Conservatives supported extending some form of local authority to Ireland.58 But as argued in Chapter 2, legitimation strategies can unexpectedly polarize networks. In the Conservative case, the Orange Card created peripheral pulls. As Ulster Unionists mobilized and strengthened, Conservatives could no longer satiate the demands of Southern Unionists without losing their legitimacy among Ulster Unionists and their identity as the protector of Protestant rights. These pulls became particularly acute at the turn of the twentieth century. Ulster condemned Southern Unionist reforms, using them as a basis to challenge the legitimacy not only of the Southern Unionists, but the entire Conservative Party. Ulster Unionists perceived moderates’ reforms – particularly the devolution of government – as nothing more than the overt conciliation of Irish nationalism at the expense of Ulster’s rights. They believed that “their only safety lay in the maintenance of the status quo; any attempt to disturb this 54 55 56 57 58

Quoted in Gwynn 1932, 102. Dunraven 1907, 272; for analysis see Lyons 1948, 2. Lyons 1968, 2. Gwynn 1932, 105. Times, June 19, 1886, 12. Times, June 21, 1886, 6.

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balance must be regarded with grave suspicion,” even if those attempts were brought on by fellow Unionists.59 Ulster Unionists used their newfound strength to defeat the devolution movement. Ulster MPs charged that the reforms were marks of a Catholic conspiracy, which would lead to Ulster being governed with “the information and influence of the priests.”60 Other Ulster MPs declared that the Conservative government had perpetuated a “wholesale and insidious betrayal of Unionist policy upon a question vital to the Irish Unionists,” and indeed, condemned the whole of the conciliation movement among Southern Unionists as “a movement which struck at the whole principles of Unionism, and gave colour to the statement that the [Conservative] government was being converted to Home Rule.”61 Ulster’s newspapers echoed the growing sectarian and intractable rhetoric. Although initially supporting Southern Unionist reforms, the Irish Times declared that the Irish Reform Association – the Southern Unionists’ instrument of reform – was not a legitimate representative of Unionist interests, and that its scheme was “one which is altogether contrary to the principles which have always animated the great body of Irish unionists.”62 Other Unionist newspapers reiterated these sentiments, stating that the attempts of the Conservative government to negotiate with the Irish nationalists were no more than “home rule by instalments [sic]”; another asked why the Irish Reform Association did not “call themselves ‘the Irish Home Rule Association, the Roman Catholic University Association, or some plain name which would let the public know their aims.’”63 Although Ulster’s opposition to reform was nothing new, its importance within the Conservative Party was. Conservative reliance on Ulster to oppose Home Rule bound the party’s legitimacy to the support of this small coalition.64 These peripheral pulls led to no less than a parliamentary crisis in September 1904, with Ulster charging that the British government had effectively betrayed its position to the Irish Nationalists. In the face of these charges, the moderate Chief Secretary of Ireland, George Wyndham, was compelled to recant his initial support of devolution and resign from his position. Conservatives were forced to bow to Ulster’s 59 60 61 62 63 64

Lyons 1948, 11. Hansard, February 20, 1905, col. 642. Hansard, February 20, 1905, cols. 642, 646. Irish Times, September 27, 1904. Quoted in Lyons 1948, 3. See Jackson 1989, 193; and Boyce 1970.

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demands, removing moderates from leadership posts and replacing them with Ulster’s elites. In sum, even though Conservatives shared the moderates’ interests and ideology, they found themselves pulled toward Ulster’s demands. By the end of the devolution crisis, moderates and Conservatives were effectively polarized.65 Nationalists. Just as the Conservative legitimation strategy polarized relations with Southern Unionists, so too did it eliminate ties with Constitutional Nationalists. As argued in the last chapter, Constitutional Nationalists had built ties, however tenuous, with the Conservative Party, and these ties had underpinned efforts to compromise over Home Rule. With the change in rhetoric, however, these ties were severed. Clearly the Orange Card was entirely dissonant to Nationalists. As argued above, both Constitutional Nationalists and Republicans rejected the idea of Ulster as a separate nation. As put by John Redmond, who in 1891 was chosen to lead the Constitutional Nationalists: Ireland for us is one entity. It is one land . . . our ideal in this movement is a selfgoverning Ireland in the future, when all her sons of all races and creeds within her shores will bring their tribute, great or small, to the great total of national enterprise and national statesmanship and national happiness.66

Even the majority of Ulster itself, Nationalists argued, desired Home Rule, a demand that was being obscured by a vocal minority. In support of these Nationalist claims, Liberal Prime Minister Asquith noted, “. . . look at Ulster. Taking Ulster as a whole, the province of Ulster is represented at this moment, how? By 17 Unionists and 16 Home Rulers.”67 Constitutional Nationalists, thus, found Conservative rhetoric unacceptable. Moreover, the ties between Nationalists and Conservatives had always been tenuous and informal. The most stable links between them had been through the Southern Unionists within the party. During their push for land and political reform, for example, Southern Unionists met with the Nationalist leadership in their efforts to find a compromise on Home Rule.68 Nationalists, moreover, had largely praised both the land and devolution projects. Redmond, for instance, declared that the 65 66 67 68

Lyons 1948, 22. Hansard, January 1, 1913, col. 401. Hansard, April 11, 1912, col. 1401. On general reform see Gailey 1984. On the movement for reform within Unionism, see Lyons 1948; O’Day 1998, 178–202.

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devolution plan was “of the utmost importance. It is simply a declaration for Home Rule and is quite a wonderful thing. With these men with us Home Rule may come at any moment.”69 But with Southern Unionists marginalized, the strongest links between Nationalists and Conservatives were eliminated and the two parties polarized. Nationalists now faced a Conservative Party dominated by Ulster Unionists, committed to a rhetoric they could not recognize as legitimate. Nationalists and Republicans. Finally, by deploying the Orange Card, Conservatives would unleash dynamics that would polarize Nationalists and Republicans as well. The last chapter argued that the alliance between Nationalists and Republicans was critical in the pursuit of Home Rule. Only by convincing Republicans that Home Rule was a legitimate cause could the Constitutional Nationalists preserve Republican support. Conservatives do not bear all of the blame for the split between Constitutional Nationalists and Republicans that occurred in the early twentieth century. Other factors, such as a Republicans’ growing impatience with Nationalist parliamentary tactics, as well as personal animosity between the factions, helped weaken ties between these two coalitions. Conservative legitimation strategies did, however, induce peripheral pulls between Constitutional Nationalist and Republican groups, pulls that would ultimately break the alliance between these parties. In Chapter 3 it was argued that Nationalists maintained their alliance with Republicans by using revolutionary, even militant, language that appealed to Republican audiences.70 Without this language, the Home Rule program would appear entirely dissonant to Republican leaders. Yet the more Conservatives painted Nationalists as militant tyrants, the more Nationalists felt compelled to abandon their more violent language, for fear of losing legitimacy among their British audience.71 As a result of these peripheral pulls, then, Constitutional Nationalists eschewed Republican rhetoric, turning only to liberal and imperial claims to press their case for Home Rule. Paul Bew argues, for example, that John Redmond, Parnell’s successor, deliberately chose rhetoric that was far more conservative than his predecessors, “even Redmond’s most extreme 69

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Gwynn 1932, 106. See also O’Day 1998, Lyons 1968, 274. Again, others, particularly Dillon were not so trusting. Dillon in particular believed that any compromise that came from Unionists, as opposed to Liberals, was bound to be a swindle. See Lyons 1968, 274. See Chapter 3. Gwynn 1932; Bew 1987; Lyons 1968, 191.

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utterances tended to be more discreet. His most militant speech at Navan on December 8, 1896 – an excited call to drive the English government ‘bag and baggage’ from Ireland – in substance goes no further than the demand for Irish control of Irish affairs.”72 Likewise, when calling for the passing of Home Rule in 1910, Conservative Nationalists abandoned radical nationalist rhetoric entirely, justifying self-government as a tool for strengthening the empire, not for achieving national autonomy: “We do not demand such complete autonomy as the British self-governing colonies possess . . . once we receive home rule, we shall demonstrate our imperial loyalty beyond question.”73 By using only liberal and imperial rhetoric, Nationalists were successful in maintaining their ties with British Liberals, and even with those Southern Unionists who remained on the margins of the Conservative Party. But Republicans viewed this new legitimation strategy as entirely illegitimate. Republicans responded by severing their ties with Constitutional Nationalists, arguing, “We stand for an Irish republic because we see that no compromise with England, no repeal of the Union, no concession of Home Rule, or Devolution, will satisfy the national aspirations of the Irish people . . . national independence is our right; we ask no more and we will accept no less.”74 This polarization was ultimately devastating to the Constitutional Nationalists. It was not only that they lost their ties with Republicans. In 1906, Republicans founded an alternative nationalist party, Sinn F´ein, designed to compete with the Irish Parliamentary Party. Sinn F´ein’s ideology was in reality not too distant from its parliamentary counterparts. The plan Sinn F´ein proposed for Home Rule, as outlined in a pamphlet distributed in 1907, looked very much like the Home Rule bills placed in front of Parliament: Ireland would have a separate legislature, but still be subject to imperial control. There were even overlaps between Sinn F´ein’s and British interests. As argued by Michael Laffan, many members of Sinn F´ein were outright “monarchists,” supporting the British Empire in principle.75 Although the differences between these parties may have been insignificant, Sinn F´ein’s rhetoric was a radical departure from Constitutional Nationalists’ politics. To differentiate themselves from Nationalists, Sinn F´ein, as Emmet Larkin argues, was “forced to legitimize themselves by

72 73 74 75

Bew 1987, 19. Ibid. Quoted in Lyons 1985, 316. Laffan 1971, 376.

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claiming to represent a higher patriotism and a more wholesome national ideal than did the prevailing consensus.”76 And Sinn F´ein’s commitments placed Republicans and Constitutional Nationalists on incompatible ground. Once united, these actors now competed for the spoils of Irish nationalism and Home Rule.77 In sum, the Conservatives’ legitimation strategy had unanticipated switching effects. It created Ulster as a unified political actor, and strengthened its position within the Conservative Party. The Orange Card also shattered ties with moderates and relations with Irish nationalists. Finally, although not the only factor in the Republican-Constitutional Nationalist rivalry, the Conservative legitimation strategy ensured Constitutional Nationalists would come under attack, and set the stage for a nationalist bidding war in Irish politics. Each of these switching effects, moreover, ensured structural lockin. From 1912 to 1921, each of these parties sought a solution to Home Rule. Although all had an interest in a negotiated settlement – and indeed, could even agree on the content of that settlement – none could find a legitimate solution to the conflict. Ultimately, each came to the table trapped in strictly incompatible positions, leading to indivisible conflict.

ireland, indivisible From 1912 to 1921, two major attempts were made to reach a negotiated settlement and establish Home Rule for Ireland.78 The first negotiations took place in Parliament from 1912 to 1914, when British and Irish politicians fought to pass the Third Home Rule Bill. In 1914, the bill did pass the House of Commons, though it was never implemented due to the onset of World War I. More importantly, by this point negotiations

76 77

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Larkin 1975, 1268. Before 1910 the only direct challenge Sinn F´ein made was in the election of 1907, when a sitting Home Rule MP, C.J. Dolan of North Leitrim, announced his commitment to Griffith’s program as laid out in The Resurrection of Hungary, and declared that he would run for the “Sinn F´ein party.” However, the election had little direct impact on either Irish or British politics, as Dolan lost the election to a Parliamentary Party candidate. The only advance Sinn F´ein made here was in propaganda: eager to understand what Sinn F´ein actually represented, readers bought Griffith’s Resurrection of Hungary, which by the end of the election was out of print, with almost all of the copies having been distributed in Leitrim. This analysis includes both the bargaining in Parliament, as well as attempts to reach a settlement outside of Parliament, such as the Buckingham Palace Conference of July 21–24, 1914.

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were all for naught; there was no room for compromise, particularly on the issue of Ulster. As Parliament debated the bill, factions in Britain and Ireland edged to the brink of civil war. On January 31, 1913, the Ulster Volunteer Force was formed. By November 1913 this militia force had recruited upward of 75,000 volunteers, and pronounced that if Home Rule were to pass, that “If the worst should come, and God should require us to pass through the fiery furnace of war, we’ll all be prepared to answer the call of duty and fight for liberty and truth.”79 Republican factions (though not Sinn F´ein) in Ireland responded by organizing a counterforce, the National Volunteers, “to secure and to maintain the rights and liberties common to all the people of Ireland.”80 Within a few months of their formation, the Irish Volunteers numbered almost 150,000. The second negotiation examined here took place in 1921. By this point, Anglo-Irish politics had undergone a stunning transformation. The Easter Rising of 1916 had propelled Sinn F´ein to power. In 1918, Sinn F´ein swept the general election in Ireland. Instead of taking their seats at Westminster, on January 21, 1919, in the first session of the Assembly of Ireland, or Dail ´ Eireann, they convened in Dublin to proclaim the independence of the Republic of Ireland. The declaration of independence sparked the Anglo-Irish War. What began as a series of uncoordinated outbursts became, from 1920 onward, a bloody campaign of terror attacks and counterattacks that would threaten soldiers and citizens alike. Ireland’s Irish Republican Army (IRA) faced off with the infamous Black and Tans and Auxiliary Divisions (“Auxies”) of the Royal Irish Constabularly, soldiers who would come to be known for their brutal reprisals against the IRA and civilian targets.81 Sinn F´ein and the British came to the bargaining table to end the escalating conflict, and to find a Home Rule settlement acceptable to them all. Yet although the parties did walk away from the negotiations with the Anglo-Irish Treaty, they failed to reach a permanent settlement to the conflict. Far from settling the Irish question, the negotiations set the stage for Britain’s forced partition of Ireland, a year-long civil war 79 80 81

Quoted in Buckland 1973, 67. Quoted in Gwynn 1932, 244. Lyons 1985, 412. Particularly disquieting were incidents like “Bloody Sunday,” November 21, 1920, which began with an IRA attack against eleven civilians believed to be intelligence agents of the British army, and ended when, as an act of revenge, the Black and Tans opened fire at a Gaelic football match, killing twelve and wounding sixty more.

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between Republican factions, and years of insurgency and terrorism in Northern Ireland that persist to the present day. This concluding section examines both of these negotiations. In the first round, the major obstacle to settlement proved, not surprisingly, to be Ulster. Although Conservatives now demanded the exclusion of Ulster from any Home Rule Bill, Constitutional Nationalists charged this would undermine the integrity of the Irish Nation. The 1921 negotiations proved even more contentious, as British and Irish clashed over the question of imperial rule. Whereas Irish nationalism had long been framed as commensurate with imperial rule – the Irish could be both a separate nation and imperial subject – Irish parties now rejected any allegiance to the Crown, an outcome that the British could not accept. Overall, both of these cases demonstrate how legitimation strategies created lock-in and constructed Ireland as indivisible. Negotiating Ulster, 1912–1917 As Nationalists and Conservatives negotiated the Third Home Rule bill from 1912 to 1917, they came to the table trapped in strictly incompatible positions. Conservatives were now tied to a single coalition, that of Ulster, and they could not recognize any deal that would give Nationalists sovereignty over Ulster as legitimate. Shared sovereignty, in other words, was no longer an acceptable mechanism by which to divide the Irish question. Instead, the Conservatives now demanded the partition of Ireland, the exclusion of Ulster from the proposed Home Rule. In June 1912, Conservatives began their attempts to introduce a Home Rule Bill of their own, one that included an amendment for the exclusion of Ulster’s nine counties. Conservatives argued that exclusion was absolutely necessary to Home Rule’s success, noting that the original bill made “the mistake of treating Ireland not as two nations, but as one nation . . . Ireland consists of two nations different in sentiment, character, history, and religion . . . it is absolutely impossible to fuse these two incongruous settlements together. It is as impossible as trying to reconcile the irreconcilable.”82 Neither interest nor ideology explains the Conservative commitment to exclusion. Conservatives, simply put, were against partition. Conservatives believed the salient issue was the integrity of the empire, not the 82

Hansard, June 11, 1912, col. 771.

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protection of Ulster.83 Partition would mean Conservatives had implicitly accepted Home Rule and, as a result abandoned their commitment to preserve the empire. As one politician reminded the Conservative leader Bonar Law as he pondered whether to promote Ulster’s exclusion, “we are the Unionist Party – that is we exist to oppose Home Rule.”84 Rather, evidence shows that the Conservative position was borne of legitimacy, not of interest. The Conservative use of Ulster to resist Home Rule had them caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Whereas Conservatives opposed partition, Ulster supported their exclusion from Home Rule; given Ulster’s strength within the party, Conservatives could hardly abandon the region now without destroying their legitimacy. Conservative leaders themselves realized that they were backed into a corner on the Ulster question; exclusion was not their preference, but if it was the only way to keep from abandoning Ulster to Home Rule, it was a necessary evil. As Bonar Law stated, “nothing could be worse for us than we should be put in the position of having to refuse an offer which the people of this country would regard as fair and reasonable.”85 When the Home Rule Bill came to the floor in 1912, therefore, Conservatives could only propose that Ulster be separated from the rest of Ireland and remain under direct British rule. Partition seemed an acceptable division for Conservatives and even some British Liberals.86 But the Irish Nationalists could not accept this division without undermining their own legitimacy as representatives of the Irish nation. As Redmond argued before Parliament: This idea of two nations in Ireland is to us revolting and hateful. The idea of our agreeing to the partition of our nation is unthinkable. We want the union in Ireland of all creeds, of all classes, of all races, and we would resist most violently as far as it is within our power to do so . . . the setting up of permanent dividing lines between one creed and another and one race and another.87

Indeed, the Nationalists’ domestic position was becoming increasingly unstable. Republican factions, led by Sinn F´ein, were growing stronger in Ireland, and they publicly charged that if Nationalists allowed Ulster to be partitioned, this would be no less than a betrayal to the Irish 83 84 85 86 87

Boyce 1970, 89. Quoted in Stubbs 1990, 867. Quoted in Smith 1993, 172. Jalland 1980. Hansard, June 11, 1912, 1086–87.

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nation.88 Faced with this pressure, Nationalists had no choice but to declare that partition was illegitimate; any “demand for the exclusion of Ulster was incompatible with the first principle of the Irish demand,”89 a compromise to which, as Redmond argued, “Irish Nationalists can never submit.”90 Neither Nationalists nor Conservatives were driven by blind nationalism. As a final piece of evidence that this lock-in was one of legitimacy and not a clash of ideology or interests, it is astounding to note that Conservatives and Nationalists recognized the overlaps in their preferences. Neither British nor Irish politicians wanted to face the civil war that would erupt if a compromise failed.91 Moreover, each party feared the political ramifications of a failed settlement. On the one hand, Constitutional Nationalists understood that if they failed to deliver a Home Rule Bill, the Republicans, specifically Sinn F´ein, would surely gain at their expense. On the other, Conservatives and Liberals feared that if either Republicans or Ulster militants were to gain control, then war would be on the horizon. But perhaps most importantly, in negotiations over the Home Rule Bill that occurred in 1912, in 1916, and in 1917, Conservatives and Constitutional Nationalists suggested the same solution: that Ireland be given Home Rule, with the condition that Ulster have autonomy, known as “Home Rule within Home Rule.”92 In this scenario, Ulster would remain an integral part of the Irish nation, but would be given some form of local government in order to safeguard the Protestant minority. From 1916 to 1917, Constitutional Nationalists and moderate Unionists argued that this provision could satiate both sides. As one Conservative paper argued: The settlement of the Irish question is an imperial necessity. To that settlement all parties, both in Great Britain and Ireland, must make their definite contribution . . . The bedrock of that business is that some sort of Home Rule there must be, whatever the details, modifications, or limitation. . . . We are aware that the part of Ulster excluded – if exclusion should prove to be still the condition of any preliminary compromise – would prefer to remain in every way one with Great Britain as now. This, however, will hardly be possible.93 88 89 90 91 92 93

See Garvin 1996; and Laffan 1999. Gwynn 1932, 220. Hansard, January 1, 1913, col. 405–6. Jalland 1980, 59; O’Day 1998, 256; Gwynn 1932, 496. Gwynn 1932, 232. See also O’Day 1998, 254. The Observer, May 14, 1916. Quoted in Gwynn 1932, 496.

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Nationalists, too, believed that some form of autonomous parliament in Ulster would be necessary, arguing “it is true that within the bosom of a nation, there is room for diversities of the treatment of government and of administration, but a unit Ireland is and Ireland must remain.”94 But even with a substantive agreement on the table, rhetorically the two sides were trapped in what they could accept as legitimate. Conservatives, contrary to what commitment or reputation explanations would expect, were willing to devolve power to Ireland; however, they could not accept Ulster being treated symbolically as part of the Irish nation, no matter how much independence the region would have in practice. Nationalists could accept autonomy for Ulster, but not when it was legitimated as recognition of an Ulster nation. In 1917, Constitutional Nationalists, Conservatives, and Liberals would meet for the last time. So unable to compromise were these parties that the conference was dismissed as irrelevant.95 When Ulster was discussed again, it would be between Republicans and the British government in 1921. Once again, these actors failed to come to a negotiated settlement. Republicans were willing to accept a boundary commission that would establish some form of local governance for Ulster, as long as Britain and Ulster alike would admit Ireland’s essential unity.96 The Conservatives and Ulster, however, could not accept a deal that left the north symbolically connected to the Irish nation. Here then were two parties with compatible interests now locked into incompatible positions, unable to accept each others’ positions as legitimate. Far from being a matter of politics as usual, the politics of Ulster had become indivisible. Home Rule’s Final Gasp: The Anglo-Irish Treaty and the Search for Divisibility, 1921 British and Irish parties would meet to negotiate a Home Rule settlement one last time in 1921. The circumstances facing these parties were dramatically different than those of nineteenth century politics, or even those of 1912. Most notably, the British now were forced to bargain not with the Constitutional Nationalists, but with the Republican party of Sinn F´ein. This introduced an entirely new dimension to Anglo-Irish bargaining.

94 95 96

Freeman’s Journal, October 13, 1913. Lyons 1968, 421. Griffith to de Valera, November 3, 1921 (received on November 4, 1921) in Documents in Irish Foreign Policy (hereafter DIFP), 300.

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Not only did actors now face an indivisible Ulster, they found themselves unable to reach a compromise on whether Home Rule rendered Ireland an imperial subject or an entirely free Republic. “The Party Is Dead”: The Delegitimation of the Constitutional Movement, and the Rise of Sinn F´ein 1916–1917.97 On Easter Monday, April 24, 1916, insurrection broke out in Dublin. The Rising was led by IRB members, including Padraig Pearse, Sean MacDermott, Joseph Plunkett, Thomas Clarke, and Thomas MacDonagh; most of the insurgents, who would ultimately total 1,500, were members of the Irish Volunteers, although a minority of those fighting belonged to the women’s ancillary force Cumann na mBan and James Connolly’s socialist Citizen Army. At first, the Easter Rising appeared to be a complete disaster.98 Not only was there no chance at military success, the Irish reacted to the rebellion with a mixture of confusion and hostility. “The overwhelming mass of the Irish people,” Redmond argued, regarded the Rising “with a feeling of detestation and horror.”99 Easter 1916 would soon become a populist outcry against British rule, however. In April and May 1916, the British began arresting and executing suspected rebels. The executions proceeded under Dublin courtmartial, and trials for the executions were held in secret. Many of the executions were brutal – Plunkett, for example, was facing imminent death from natural causes anyway, and Connolly was already so seriously wounded that to face the firing squad he had to be tied to a chair. Arrests far exceeded the numbers who participated in the Rising. In all 3,509 people were taken into custody, 1,497 of whom were released after investigation; 171 people were tried by court-martial and 170 of these were convicted. The remainder of those incarcerated – 1,836 – were sent to England and jailed there, although most (1,272) were sent home by Christmas.100 It was Dillon who pronounced the Irish Parliamentary Party dead. Quoted in Lyons 1968, 403. 98 To say that the Rising had a military strategy would be generous – insurgents were dispersed throughout the city haphazardly. But even if the rebels had formulated a strategy simple numbers would have been a problem: from the beginning the insurgents were outnumbered by British forces three to one; within forty-eight hours, that ratio had increased to twenty to one. Under these conditions, it is less surprising that the rebellion was suppressed than that it lasted as long as it did. After five days of siege on the Post Office, Pearse officially surrendered in the name of the Republic on April 29, 1916. 99 Hansard, vol. 81, col. 2512; see also, Gwynn 1932, 474. 100 Lyons 1985, 375. 97

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These secret trials and executions sparked panic, as the truth about the executions mingled with rumor – it was whispered that innocent men and women were being taken from their homes and shot without trial. And although courts-martial and executions had been seen in Ireland before (in 1867 most recently), British actions now played directly into the rhetoric of the Irish republicans. By acting as tyrants are supposed to act, the British stepped directly in the role set out for them by republican mythology – the British were no more than despots, and any government under the empire was simply intolerable. As Tom Garvin argues, as the executions continued, the “British government’s legitimacy in Ireland evaporated.”101 The growing popularity of the Rising placed immense pressure on the Irish Parliamentary Party. How could the party which professed to be the embodiment of the Irish nation collude with a tyrant? Indeed, how could the entire edifice upon which Constitutional Nationalism was based – its commitment to imperial integrity and parliamentary action – be justified in the face of British actions? Constitutional Nationalists’ continuing negotiations now appeared an attempt to satiate a despotic power, and to bargain away a third of the Irish nation to boot. As argued by Dillon, “enthusiasm and trust in . . . [the Constitutional Nationalist] party is dead so far as the mass of people is concerned.”102 But for Republicans and Sinn F´ein, the Rising presented an unprecedented opportunity to delegitimate the Irish Parliamentary Party and establish themselves as the voice of the Irish nation. In reality, Sinn F´ein had nothing to do with the Easter Rising. The rebellion was the work of a splinter group within the IRB, not a calculated move by mainstream Republican factions. Nevertheless, there was a perception that Sinn F´ein had organized the Rising, and thus as the rebellion grew more popular, so too did Sinn F´ein.103 As argued by General John Maxwell, who had suppressed the Easter Rising, the Irish people “now think that Sinn F´einism and Irish patriotism are synonymous terms.”104 Religious ceremonies for the executed turned into political events, and funerals morphed into protests against imperial rule. The public began wearing badges of green 101 102 103

104

Garvin 1986, 481; Garvin 1981, 113. Quoted in Lyons 1968, 403. Emphasis original. Interestingly the Constitutional Nationalists helped create the impression that Sinn F´ein had organized the Rising. Seeing the Rising was initially unpopular, Nationalists went out of their way to pin the rebellion on their Sinn F´ein rivals. See e.g., Gwynn 1932, 475, 479. Quoted in Laffan 1999, 53.

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and black to show their allegiance to Sinn F´ein. The rebels of 1916 became martyrs.105 In the wake of the Rising, then, Constitutional Nationalists’ power waned. Sinn F´ein took every opportunity to criticize the Nationalist program of Home Rule; whereas the Nationalists would leave Ireland under the yoke of imperial tyranny, Sinn F´ein promised that it would declare all of Ireland a republic. Sinn F´ein’s strategy proved effective. In 1918, the party swept the Nationalists from office, and on January 21, 1919, in the first session of the Dail, ´ Sinn F´ein declared the independence of the Republic of Ireland. But independence was not to be easy. After more than two years of war with the British, Sinn F´ein and the British sat down to their final negotiations over Home Rule.

between republic and empire: the final home rule negotiations, 1921 Faced with the overwhelming costs of the ongoing Anglo-Irish War, from October 11 to December 5, 1921, British and Irish delegates gathered at 10 Downing Street in an effort to settle the Irish question. The central question on the bargaining table was whether Britain and Ireland could formulate a Home Rule agreement legitimate to all of the warring parties. Concretely, delegates would debate issues of Irish financial autonomy, the future status of its defense forces, the exclusion of Ulster, and the relationship between the parliaments of Britain and Ireland. Throughout the negotiations, permanent settlement of the Ulster question continued to elude the delegates. The delegations did, however, find away to circumvent the Ulster question, at least for the moment. The British and Irish agreed to a boundary commission, in which all of Ireland would be granted a parliament, but Ulster would have the right to vote itself out of the parliament within twelve months. If Ulster was to vote itself out, a boundary commission would be set up to delimit the area.106 But behind this temporary settlement was the indivisibility that had plagued earlier negotiations over Ulster. The Irish still demanded the unity of their nation; for them, if a boundary commission were necessary, it would be treated as a domestic, national problem. There would be no 105

106

Although this is outside the scope of the discussion here, it is worth noting that Sinn F´ein itself changed dramatically between 1916 and 1918. After the Rising, Sinn F´ein absorbed more radical Republican factions, such as the Irish Republican Brotherhood and the Irish Volunteers. On this, see Laffan 1971. Ibid.

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partition. Indeed, the Irish delegation believed it had secured the unity of Ireland. Likewise, Ulster Unionists appeared as recalcitrant as ever; in a reply to the proposal for an “all-Ireland parliament” they proposed that Ulster should be formed into its own Dominion, with no connection at all to Dublin.107 Added to the contest over Ulster was a second explosive issue: if sovereignty was to be divided between Ireland and Britain, what was the nature of the link between these two nations to be? When Constitutional Nationalists were in power, this had been an uncontested issue. Although Ireland would have its own parliament, it would maintain imperial ties to Britain – Ireland would remain a subject of the empire. What Constitutional Nationalists could accept as legitimate, however, Sinn F´ein could not. Here we see the constraining effect of legitimation strategies. In order to differentiate itself from the Nationalists, Sinn F´ein had vehemently rejected imperial ties with Britain. For Sinn F´ein, this rhetoric was strategic. The party had no real quarrel with the Home Rule framework. However, in order to outbid the Irish Parliamentary Party and establish itself as the voice of the Irish nation, Sinn F´ein had to legitimize itself as a different, purer form of Irish nationalist party. Republican language served “as a very useful cover in securing for them that ideological toleration so necessary to their political survival.”108 Although Sinn F´ein’s republican appeals were strategic, this rhetoric had blowback effects at the bargaining table. Even if republican rhetoric had only been adopted in order to outmaneuver the Irish Parliamentary Party, and even if Sinn F´ein was not really opposed to an imperial Home Rule arrangement, any compromise on this point would undermine the very basis for Sinn F´ein’s claim to legitimacy. Indeed, as the paper the Irish Freedom put it, anything less than the republic would be a “surrender of the nation, the national life, every noble tradition, every heroic aspiration of our people.”109 The only legitimate outcome was a republic for Ireland. What this meant in practice was that, as the Irish entered into negotiations in 1921, they could not accept any agreement that would demand allegiance to the Crown or empire. But a republic for Ireland was exactly what the British – Conservatives and Liberals alike – could not accept as legitimate. As Lyons argues, the British could not “begin to contemplate an Ireland outside 107 108 109

As reported from Griffith to de Valera, November 12, 1921 in DIFP, 307. Larkin 1975, 1268. Quoted in Laffan 1999, 241.

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the Empire.”110 The Times, although pushing for a settlement that would end the Anglo-Irish War, argued that a republic could not be tolerated: “There are reserves of political thought into which English logic practical and theoretical refuses to be led. In the English mind any ground for controversy simply does not exist.”111 As Lloyd George told the Irish delegation, “We must know whether allegiance to the King is to be finally repudiated by you, [or] whether the connecting link of the Crown is to be snapped.112 What the Irish rejected was not shared sovereignty with Britain; the delegation was more than willing to accept British rule in practice. During negotiations, the delegation proved willing to negotiate away control over Ireland’s foreign affairs. They made significant concessions to British security: they agreed to limit their military forces, to allow the Imperial navy sole command of international seas, and during wartime the use of Irish harbors and ports for coastal defense.113 But what they could not accept was any formal submission to the monarchy; no oath of allegiance to the Crown, no mention of the Crown or Empire within the Treaty. Moreover, both sides seemed deeply committed to locating some compromise over the imperial-republic issues. The Irish, for example, suggested a treaty that promised Ireland’s association rather than submission to the Crown. Others suggested more elaborate solutions. One Irish draft stated that “Ireland agrees to be associated with the British Commonwealth for purposes of common concern and, in respect of those purposes, to recognise the Crown as the symbol and accepted head of the Association.”114 In other words, Ireland would recognize the Crown’s existence, it would associate with it, but as a republic it could not submit. Without explicit allegiance to the empire, a treaty was “impossible. No British Government could attempt to propose to the British people the abrogation of the Crown. It would be smashed to atoms.”115 The British insisted to the Irish delegation that the Crown was merely a symbol, which would have no effective power in Irish affairs – and they were right. Yet in the realm of symbols, where politics so often operates, the positions of the Irish and British were completely irreconcilable. The Irish 110 111 112 113

114 115

Lyons 1985, 428. Times, August 17, 1921, 9. Quoted in Pakenham 1992, 139. Final text of the Articles of Agreement for a Treaty between Great Britain and Ireland as signed. December 6, 1921, DIFP, 356–60. Memorandum by the Irish Representatives, November 22, 1921 in DIFP, 311. Griffith to de Valera, November 29, 1921 in DIFP, 319.

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could no more accept the legitimacy of an allegiance to the Crown than the British could accept an Irish leader who would be called a President of a republic.116 So incommensurable were these positions, in fact, that it was over these symbols of legitimacy that negotiations broke down on Sunday, December 4, 1921. Ultimately, however, delegates accepted the treaty, and the AngloIrish Treaty was signed on December 6, 1921. Does this suggest that both Ulster and the imperial-republic question were actually divisible? Evidence indicates that these issues continued to be indivisible, even as the treaty was signed. As Chapter 2 argued, territory is divisible if actors can reach a negotiated settlement – division cannot be forced upon the actors. Yet in this case, it was only the British military threat that forced the Irish to concede their Republican aims. Had they rejected the treaty, then “both sides would be free to resume whatever warfare they could wage against each other,” as Winston Churchill threatened.117 The Irish delegation had no other choice but to accept the agreement; when negotiations had begun, they estimated they had only three weeks of fighting power left against the British. Irish delegate Michael Collins argued that the treaty was merely a tactical move, allowing the Republican military to regroup and launch a campaign in the north. The Irish delegation, trapped between what it perceived as certain death on the battlefield and a solution that would undermine the legitimacy of its republican position, conceded. Moreover, rather than call into question the indivisibility of the Irish question, it is perhaps in the aftermath of the treaty that we see the politics of indivisibility in full light. The theory here predicts that when actors attempt to negotiate indivisible issues, this is likely to bring an undermining of the actors’ legitimacy, and some type of punishment. By signing the treaty the Irish delegation, as Collins remarked, had “signed their own death warrant.” Although they had secured a de facto republic, in conceding to the trappings of empire they undermined their own legitimacy as actors within a republic. More seriously, it was in signing away the symbols of the Republic that gave to the Irish the “stuff and to spare for a civil war.”118 In Ireland, the treaties signing sparked a split in Sinn F´ein between pro- and antitreaty factions. When the delegates returned to Ireland, they

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For arguments that the debate was over symbols and not substance, see Pakenham 1992; Jackson 1999, 259–62; Garvin 1996, 51–52; Lyons 1985, 428. Quoted in Pakenham 1992, 238. Pakenham 1992, 256.

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found that more than half the cabinet refused to recognize the legitimacy of the treaty; the army, forebodingly, largely opposed the treaty. Although the treaty passed narrowly in the Dail, ´ in a 64 to 57 vote, the antitreaty factions, led by Eamon de Valera, withdrew from the Parliament in protest. On April 14, 1922, members of the IRA executive seized the historic center of the judiciary, the Four Courts in Dublin, in an act of rebellion against the Provisional Government of Ireland. By midyear, the Free State was engaged in a civil war. Although the war would last only a year, it would take with it some of Ireland’s most respected leaders, including Collins, who was killed in an ambush on August 22, 1922. It remains unclear who exactly killed Collins, but most suspect his death was punishment for having signed the treaty. The issue of a republic would drive Irish politics for at least another fifteen years until the eve of World War II, when Eamon de Valera, now at the head of the republican party Fianna Fail, ´ unilaterally removed all references to the Crown from the Irish Constitution, and declared Ireland a free republic. Today the continued indivisibility of territory is best seen not in the south of Ireland, but in the violence that has plagued the north since the signing of the treaty.

conclusion For most of the twentieth century, conflict in Northern Ireland has been so tumultuous it is easy to accept the rhetoric of ancient hatreds – Catholics and Protestants, Celts and Teutons, Irish and British have never gotten along, nor will they ever. These chapters challenge this view. Ireland, and Ulster in particular, were not inevitably indivisible. It was through everyday politics that indivisibility was constructed. In their attempts to gain an advantage over competing political parties, the Conservatives unleashed dynamics on both sides of the conflict that would undermine the settlement all were trying to reach. Although constructed, the indivisibility of this conflict has proved all too real. Still in the last two decades, there has been cause for optimism. Negotiations in the 1980s and 1990s, particularly the Good Friday Agreement of 1998, have brought actors on all sides closer to a settlement, and have produced a power-sharing agreement in Northern Ireland. Certainly this raises a question how conflicts, once indivisible, become divisible. It is a question addressed in Chapter 7 of this book.

part two JERUSALEM: THE ETERNAL INDIVISIBLE CITY

introduction For thousands of years men have fought for the right to rule Jerusalem. From the eleventh to the sixteenth century, Europe and the Islamic world wrestled over the Holy City. In 1070, the Seljukian Turks seized Jerusalem from the Byzantine Empire. In response, in 1095 Pope Urban II called for a crusade to rescue Jerusalem from Muslim control, and by 1099, Frankish crusaders lay siege to the city, massacring those within its walls. By 1517, the Ottoman Turks had seized what became relatively permanent control over the city. However, in 1853, conflict over the status of the holy places sparked the Crimean War, as Russia used a dispute between Catholics and Orthodox Christians in Jerusalem as a reason to occupy portions of the Ottoman Empire. Backed by France and Britain, the Ottomans would maintain their control over Jerusalem, until their empire fell in World War I. In more recent history, Jerusalem has resided at the core of the ArabIsraeli conflict. In 1948, Israel fought the war that would cement its independence; in the process, Jerusalem was divided, with Israel controlling the western half of the city, and Jordan declaring sovereignty over the east. The city remained divided until 1967, when Israel captured and annexed East Jerusalem in the Six Day War. Having soundly defeated Egypt, Syria, and Jordan, Israel had captured 26,000 square miles of territory, including Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula and Syria’s Golan Heights. Most profoundly, Israel had driven Jordan’s troops from East Jerusalem. On June 27, 1967, the Israel Knesset (parliament) officially annexed Jerusalem, declaring Israel’s sovereignty over the city. 115

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Israel’s conquest did little to diminish the conflict over Jerusalem. From 1967 onward, a Palestinian national movement emerged, primarily represented by the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), which would come to challenge Israel’s claims to the eastern half of the city. Yet, in the 1990s, there was growing optimism among Israelis, Palestinians, and the international community that the conflict over Jerusalem could be resolved, and that Israelis and Palestinians could find enduring peace in a two-state solution. In September 1993, Israel’s Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and PLO leader Yasser Arafat signed the Declaration of Principles, which laid the groundwork for an independent Palestinian state. In these principles, Israelis and Palestinians recognized their mutual legitimate and political rights for the first time.1 The Israeli government agreed to transfer limited sovereign territorial authority to an elected council, the Palestinian Authority. The Authority would first exercise control over portions of the West Bank and Gaza Strip. Eventually, final status talks would determine the boundaries of an independent Palestinian state. Soon after, the peace process ground to a halt. On November 4, 1995, a radical Jewish extremist opposed to the peace process assassinated Prime Minister Rabin. From February to March 1996 the peace process disintegrated further, as the militant group Hamas – the Palestinian Islamic Resistance Movement2 – launched a suicide bombing campaign that killed 57 Israelis. Wary of terrorist attacks, in June 1996 Israelis elected Benjamin Netanyahu of the Likud Party, who vocally opposed the peace process, as prime minister. Although talks continued, the Netanyahu government resisted final status negotiations throughout its tenure. In May 1999, the Labor Party defeated Likud. The election breathed new life into the peace process. Ehud Barak assumed the position of prime minister on a platform of lasting peace, arguing that it was time for Israel to end the conflict with all of its neighbors – Syria, Lebanon, and Palestine. In November of that year, Israelis and Palestinians resumed their final status talks. On the table were the most contentious issues plaguing the peace process. What would happen to Israelis who had settled in the occupied West Bank and Gaza Strip? How could Israel be assured that the PLO would contain terrorist activity? Did Palestinians who had left their homes in Israel and Jerusalem – either voluntarily or under coercion – have a right of return? Most importantly, how could 1 2

For an overview of the Oslo process, see e.g., Quandt 2001, 321–41; Shlaim 1994. Hamas is both an acronym for the Arabic “Harakat Al-Muqawama Al-Islamia” (Islamic Resistance Movement), and Arabic for zeal.

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Israelis and Palestinians accommodate each other’s claims to a capital in Jerusalem? These issues came to a head in July 2000, when President Bill Clinton brought Barak and Arafat together to negotiate a final agreement at Camp David. As participants describe, although there were myriad contentious issues, Jerusalem would prove to be the most intractable. Participants proposed a range of possible divisions of the city. Some argued that demography could determine divided boundaries, with Israel holding sovereignty over the Jewish areas of the city, and Palestinians controlling the Arab neighborhoods located in eastern Jerusalem. Others proposed that Jerusalem’s holy places could also be divided, with Israelis and Palestinians splitting sovereignty and administrative control over the Jewish and Muslim sacred spaces.3 Ultimately, each of these solutions proved unacceptable. Whereas compromise was found on issues of security, on settlements, even on the right of return,4 no such agreement could be reached on Jerusalem. Jerusalem “was the core issue that was discussed at Camp David and Jerusalem was what ultimately prevented an agreement.”5 As the Camp David talks faltered, Jerusalem experienced a new outbreak of violence. On September 28, 2000, Ariel Sharon, leader of Likud and a vocal critic of the peace talks, visited the Temple Mount/Noble Sanctuary, thirty-five acres in the Old City of Jerusalem holy to Jews and Muslims alike. Palestinians loudly protested Sharon’s visit, denouncing what they saw as a symbol of Israel’s exclusive claims to the city. These protests swiftly escalated into sustained violence, what would become known as the Al Aqsa or Second Intifada – violence designed to throw off Israeli rule. By the time the Second Intifada was finished it would cost more than 3,000 Palestinian and almost 500 Israeli lives.6 There can be no doubt that Jerusalem proved to be indivisible at the Camp David talks in 2000. It was not that the negotiations failed to identify possible settlements. Rather, any settlement that was acceptable 3

4

5

6

For a discussion of these proposed settlements, see Wasserstein 2002, 313–17, 342–43; Klein 2003; Rabinovich 2004, 123–80; Beilin 2004, 147–74; Klein 2001; Lustick 2004; Quandt 2001, 321–84. The right of return refers to Palestinian demands to return to properties they argue were taken by Israel in 1948 as well as 1967. On the discussions over the right of return, see Klein 2003, 123–25. Wasserstein 2002, 313. See also Klein 2001; Klein 2003; Beilin 2004; Rabinovich 2004; Khalidi 2001. Source: BBC News http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/3694350.stm. Accessed May 28, 2009.

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to one side was unacceptable to another. The next two chapters examine why this is the case: how it was that Jerusalem came to be indivisible, with fatal consequences for the Israeli-Palestinian peace process.

getting religion: jerusalem as an indivisible sacred space For many if not most observers, Jerusalem’s indivisibility is not a puzzle, but an immutable fact. Sacred to three monotheistic faiths, for thousands of years Jerusalem has been central to countless international wars. From the Crusades to the Crimean War to the contemporary Arab-Israeli conflict, Christians, Jews, and Muslims have clashed over who would rightfully control the city’s holy places.7 Most recently, religious violence has flared at the Temple Mount/Noble Sanctuary. Because it is a sacred space, scholars argue, Jerusalem is inherently indivisible.8 For Jews, Jerusalem is the center of Jewish consciousness.9 It was into this city that David, the first King of the Jews, brought the Ark of the Covenant, the Israelites’ most sacred object.10 David’s son, Solomon, built the first temple in Jerusalem, which the Babylonians destroyed in their siege of the city in 596 BCE. The city contains the Temple Mount – the foundation of two successive Jewish temples – and the remnants of Herod’s temple, the Western or Wailing Wall.11 It is the rebuilding of the temple on that sacred site that will signal the final redemption of the Jewish people. What Jews refer to as the Temple Mount is for Muslims al-Haram alSharif, the Noble Sanctuary. Identified with Muhammed’s Night Journey from Mecca to Jerusalem described in the Qur’an’s seventeenth Sura, it is the third holiest site in the Islamic world. Accompanied by the Archangel Gabriel, Muhammed tethered his winged steed, Buraq, to the western wall of the temple before ascending to heaven from the sakra, the rock which Jews believe to be the stone of foundation of the temple. It is at this site that in 688 CE Caliph ‘Abd al-Malik commissioned the Dome of

7

8 9 10

11

For a general overview of Jerusalem’s religious significance, see Armstrong 1996; Dumper 2002; Elon 1989; Friedland and Hecht 1996; Klein 2001; Wasserstein 2002; Friedland and Hecht 1998. As an example of these explanations, see Breger 1996; Hassner 2003. Breger 1994, 23. For an overview of this history, see e.g., Armstrong 1996; Friedland and Hecht 1998; Porath 1974; Breger 1996. The wall is actually not the wall of the temple, but a retaining wall.

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the Rock, which marks Muhammed’s ascension. At the southern end of the sanctuary is Al-Aqsa Mosque. The entire area of the Noble Sanctuary is considered sacred and inviolable according to Islamic law. It is the existence of shared sacred spaces that renders Jerusalem indivisible. Because religious groups value this territory so highly, this creates “a perception of indivisibility at each and every sacred space.”12 According to these scholars, Jerusalem’s religious value inevitably provokes exclusive and irreconcilable political claims; the Israeli-Palestinian dispute is only the most recent manifestation of this eternal conflict over the city. Marshall Breger argues that “for Jews, political control over the part of Jerusalem that it deems holy is intrinsic to its holiness.”13 The Jewish faith mandates that Israel exert political control over Jerusalem’s sacred spaces. This scholarly assessment is echoed in Israeli discourse. Many Israelis deny the possibility of dividing Jerusalem, and sharing the capital with a Palestinian state. The former mayor of Jerusalem Teddy Kollek has stridently supported the peace process and compromise with the Palestinians. Yet he argues that “there are some Israelis who would give up the Golan, some Israelis who would give up the Sinai, and some who would give up the West Bank. But I do not think you can find any Israelis who are willing to give up Jerusalem. They cannot and will not.”14 The Israeli public supports Kollek’s claims. Public opinion research indicates that 80 percent of Israelis object to a Palestinian capital in East Jerusalem, and that sharing sovereignty over the Temple Mount is impossible.15 Palestinians seem just as committed to securing political rights to the Holy City. For Palestinians “Jerusalem is like a part of our body. We cannot negotiate it away.”16 When surveyed, “94 percent [of Palestinians] say that even if it were the only way that a Palestinian state could come into being, they would not accept Israel’s claim that it alone is sovereign over all Jerusalem.”17 From the standpoint of Islamic law, separating political from religious control is impossible; ceding sovereignty of Islam’s most holy sites to Israeli rule, therefore, is unacceptable. The chapters that follow do not question Jerusalem’s sacred worth; the city’s value is indeed immeasurable. What they do question is whether 12 13 14 15 16 17

Hassner 2003, 15. Breger 2002, 2. Kollek 1977. Segal 2000, 9. Quoted in Friedland and Hecht 1996, 478. Ibid., vii.

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Jerusalem’s sanctity inevitably provokes exclusive sovereign claims to the city. Put another way, does the fact that Israelis and Palestinians care passionately about Jerusalem mean that there is no way they could divide sovereignty over the city? The chapters here suggest that this is not the case. Despite Jerusalem’s significance, Israeli and Palestinian elites have appeared willing to divide the city. Historically, Israel’s earliest leaders were ambivalent about controlling the Holy City. As Conor Cruise O’Brien notes, “Many of the early Zionist leaders were people who had broken, or thought they had broken, with the Jewish religion.”18 Reports suggest that contemporary Israeli leaders, including Prime Ministers Rabin, Barak, even Likud leaders such as Ariel Sharon and Ehud Olmert, have all searched for a way to divide Jerusalem. Palestinian elites have exhibited an ambivalent posture toward the city. Leaders of the PLO even avoided mentioning the city until the 1980s, and many have seemed willing to accept minimal control, with sovereignty only over the eastern outskirts of the city.19 If elites are willing to divide the city, what of the masses? Might it be that public opinion is more zealous than its leaders in pressing its demands to Jerusalem? The Israeli public strongly opposes negotiating Jerusalem’s status – in one survey, 78 percent stated they “are against negotiations on Jerusalem,” and 87 percent of Palestinians argued that their negotiators should take a hard line when bargaining over the Holy City.20 Despite this sentiment, the public sees Jerusalem as more divisible than these numbers would suggest. Almost 40 percent of Israeli Jews disagree with the claim that there should be no concessions on Jerusalem, and 42 percent of Israeli Jews would cede sovereignty over the Arab neighborhoods of East Jerusalem.21 Among Israelis and Palestinians, a substantial number – 35 percent of Israelis and 50 percent of Palestinians – would agree to divide administrative control over Jerusalem’s most sacred space, the Temple Mount/Noble Sanctuary.22 Even among religious leaders, the relationship between the sacred and profane is far more complex than conventional wisdom suggests. If sacred space explanations are correct, then it should be religious factions that 18 19

20 21 22

Cruise O’Brien 1985. Wasserstein 2002, 308; Klein 2003, 175; Rabinovich 2004, 151–52; Klein 2001, 152– 153. Segal 2000, 6. Ibid., 7. Ibid., 7, 44. For another discussion of these polls, see Wasserstein 2002, 349–55; Klein 2003, 83.

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most vociferously demand political control over the Holy City. This may be the case in contemporary politics, but it was not always so. Historically, religious leaders have opposed political control over Jerusalem: as Bernard Wasserstein argues, “religious devotion did not carry with it a demand for restoration of sovereignty.”23 In Israel prior to 1967, religious leaders argued that the state should not claim Jerusalem as its capital, or even include the city within Israel’s boundaries. To do so, they argued, would be to exert secular authority over a divine space, no less than blasphemy. Palestinian Islamic leaders made similar arguments: although Jerusalem should be rescued from Israeli control, it should not be placed under a secular Palestinian state. All of this means that the relationship between politics and religion is far more varied than sacred space theories would suggest. Empirically, this changing relationship between politics and religion has meant that Jerusalem has varied widely in its divisibility. Historically, competing religious claims have not led to exclusive political claims to Jerusalem. With rare exceptions (the Crusades among them) those governing Jerusalem, be it the Romans, the Byzantines, the Ottomans, the British, or the Israelis for that matter, have been willing to divide the Holy City. The most recent division came between 1948 and 1967, with Israel proclaiming its capital in the western half, and Jordan laying claim to East Jerusalem and the holy sites within its boundaries. Rather than demand exclusive sovereignty, in each of these cases leaders argued that the very presence of overlapping religious claims mandated that they compromise over sovereignty. Because of this, these politicians sought ways to divide sovereignty in the city, usually by giving political sovereignty to different religious groups, or creating complex institutional arrangements at the sacred sites. None of this is to say governance of Jerusalem was ever easy, but it has been divisible. One could go as far as to say that divided political sovereignty has been the norm, not the exception, in governing Jerusalem.24 Why then does the thought of a divided Jerusalem provoke such outrage in contemporary politics? Why is it that a city that was once routinely divided now appears indivisible to Israelis and Palestinians alike?

23

24

Wasserstein 2002, 1. For other examples of this argument, see e.g., Friedland and Hecht 1996; Friedland and Hecht 1998; Katz 1998a. On the political divisions under the Romans and Ottomans, see Armstrong 1996, pp. 232–347; Dumper 2002, 17–38.

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the politics of jerusalem’s indivisibility I argue that Jerusalem’s indivisibility is a political construct. Using the legitimation theory outlined in Chapter 2, the next two chapters suggest that Jerusalem’s indivisibility is a product of how actors legitimate their claims to the city. I argue that in recent politics, Israeli and Palestinian elites have radically changed the ways in which they justify their sovereign claims to Jerusalem. Both Israelis and Palestinians have adopted new legitimation strategies that merge religious with nationalist claims, arguing that political control over Jerusalem is a divine right. Israeli and Palestinian elites changed their legitimation strategies for political reasons. In both cases, politicians faced intense domestic political competition; the use of religious rhetoric was designed to build political support and undercut the power of the opposition. Yet, once adopted, these legitimation strategies had unanticipated effects on political structures. In both Israel and Palestine, religious rhetoric strengthened coalitions who opposed compromise, and marginalized those factions who were willing to negotiate over the city. As a result, Israelis and Palestinians alike became locked into positions that left them unable to recognize each other’s positions as legitimate. Jerusalem was thus transformed into indivisible territory. The next two chapters provide evidence to support this theory, processtracing rhetoric and its effects from the 1920s to the present day. Chapter 5 examines Jerusalem’s status from the 1920s through the Six Day War. In the 1920s, conflict over Jerusalem intensified as the Jewish population in the Palestine mandate – a territory then ruled by the British – demanded an independent state. I explain how first the British and then the United Nations sought to establish Jewish and Palestinian states in the region, and create an internationalized Jerusalem, removed from either state’s sovereignty. What the bulk of the chapter analyzes, however, is why the nascent Israeli government and King Abdullah’s Jordan could legitimately divide Jerusalem in 1948. Although Israelis were willing to accept an internationalized Jerusalem if this guaranteed an independent state, their preference was to maintain control of West Jerusalem, and declare this territory the capital of the Jewish state. In Abdullah, Israelis found a willing partner to partition.25 Abdullah too preferred to divide Jerusalem, and seek control of its eastern half, rather than turn the city over to international control. Through 1967, this arrangement proved 25

See e.g., Katz 1998a; Shlaim 1988.

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stable; neither the Israeli nor the Jordanian population questioned the division’s legitimacy. Chapter 6 picks up this historical narrative after the 1967 war. From 1967–1977 in Israel, and from 1980s onward in Palestine, elites began to adopt religious rhetoric to justify claims to Jerusalem. The chapter begins by asking why it was that politicians changed their legitimation strategies. What provoked Israeli and Palestinian elites to adopt religious language? Following this discussion, the chapter illustrates how rhetorical shifts affected political networks, creating and severing ties among political coalitions. In conclusion, the chapter explores why it was that the more Israeli and Palestinian elites relied on religious legitimation strategies, the less flexible they could be at the bargaining table, specifically demonstrating how rhetoric constrained Israeli and Palestinian elites at the Camp David negotiations of 2000.

5 Dividing the Holy City

introduction From the beginning of the British Mandate in 1920 to Israel’s declaration of independence on May 14, 1948, Jerusalem’s status was intricately bound to the fate of Palestine. Under the terms of the Sykes-Picot agreement (1916), France and Britain carved discrete states out of the Ottoman Empire, creating mandates under their control. Left undivided was the Mandate of Palestine, a territory stretching from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea. During the twenty years of the British Mandate, Zionists – the Jewish leaders who sought an independent state – declared that the British had promised them a homeland in Palestine. Arab leaders protested Zionist claims, contending that they would settle for nothing less than an independent state in all of Palestine. By the 1930s, increasing violence between Jews and Arabs convinced the British that a unified Palestine was untenable. From 1936 to 1939, Palestinian Arabs revolted against British control and Jewish settlement. In response to the Arab Revolt, the British government established a Royal Commission, under the direction of Sir Edward Peel, to uncover the underlying causes of the violence and improve the effectiveness of British rule. After hearing testimony from Zionist and Palestinian Arab leaders, the Peel Commission declared that a unified Jewish-Palestinian state was impossible. “Manifestly, the problem cannot be solved by giving either the Arabs or the Jews all they want.”1 Although partition of Palestine might have disadvantages “half a loaf is better than no bread . . . drawbacks 1

Palestine Royal Commission Report, vol. 1, part 1, 375.

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of partition are outweighed by its advantages.”2 According to the Peel Commission’s partition proposal of 1937, Palestine would be divided into a small Jewish state of about 5,000 km, comprised of the Galilee and the coastal plain from Haifa to Tel Aviv. An Arab state would occupy the entirety of the Negev, and border the state of Transjordan along banks of the Jordan River. The Peel Commission viewed Jerusalem as a particularly sensitive issue. From the 1920s onward, Jerusalem had been a focal point of nationalist conflict. In 1929, Jerusalem exploded in violence over a dispute at the Western Wall, when a disagreement over Jewish prayer rights escalated into a confrontation between Palestinian Arabs and the Jewish population in Palestine. By the end of the riots, 4,000 were dead. The commission concluded that the only way to diminish the violence was to keep international control over the city. The commission’s report thus placed an enclave stretching from the eastern edges of Jerusalem all the way to Jaffa under British control, not just as a temporary possession but as a permanent mandate ensuring that Jerusalem and Bethlehem would remain “as a sacred trust of civilization.”3 As the commission report stated, “The partition of Palestine is subject to the overriding necessity of keeping the sanctity of Jerusalem and Bethlehem inviolate, and of ensuring free and safe access to them for all the world. That, in the fullest sense is ‘a sacred trust of civilisation,’ a trust on behalf not merely of the places of Palestine, but of multitudes in other lands to whom those places, one or both, are Holy Places.”4 Negotiations over Jerusalem and the future of Palestine were soon overtaken by the outbreak of the Second World War. When negotiations over a Jewish state in Palestine resumed in February 1947, the British were no longer the mediator, having turned the fate of Palestine over to the United Nations. In April 1947, the United Nations launched the U.N. Special Committee on Palestine (UNSCOP) to outline a solution to the Palestine problem. Much like the British before them, the United Nations proposed that Palestine be divided into a Jewish and Arab state, with the entirety of Jerusalem placed under international authority and demilitarized.5 2 3

4 5

Ibid., 394. Palestine Royal Commission Report, 380–96. For a discussion of this report, see Katz 1993. Palestine Royal Commission Report, 381. U.N. Special Committee on Palestine, Report on Palestine, Report to the General Assembly, September 1, 1947.

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Jerusalem’s internationalization was not to be. On May 14, 1948, Israel declared its independence. The next day Egypt, Syria, and Transjordan launched an attack against the newly born state. Israel’s military forces beat back the ill-trained Arab military. By January 1949, Jewish forces occupied the territory that would define Israel’s borders until 1967. When military operations ceased, however, Jerusalem was no longer a united city. Israel’s military forces had seized control of the western side of the city, while the armies of the Jordanian Legion held the east, including most of the major holy places. The 1948 war had effectively carved Jerusalem in two. From 1948 to 1967, Jerusalem remained divided, with Israel holding the western half, and Jordan laying claim to East Jerusalem and the sites sacred to Muslims and Jews alike. There was much that was undesirable about Jerusalem’s partition. For twenty years, walls and barbed wire snaked through the Holy City. Populations on either side fled or were forced from their traditional homes. By 1950, only a few Arabs remained in West Jerusalem, and the Jewish Quarter of the Old City was in ruins. Interaction between west and east was almost nonexistent, and the city’s division hindered its economic development.6 Only a few diplomats and clerics could move between east and west Jerusalem, and those that passed between the Israeli and Jordanian sides could cross only through a single passage, the Mandelbaum Gate. Desirable or not, however, the city remained partitioned until the Six Day War in 1967, when Israeli troops entered East Jerusalem and captured the Holy City. How can we explain Jerusalem’s divisibility from 1948 to 1967? Conventional wisdom might suggest that Jerusalem was not really divisible during this time – neither Israel nor Jordan really agreed to partition Jerusalem. Instead, Jerusalem’s partition is often seen as the unintentional outcome of military operations. Israeli troops successfully carved out a homeland against encroaching Arab powers, who were determined to eradicate the state of Israel yet were unable to capture the entirety of the city. Had Israel been able to push the Jordanian Legion out of the city, it would have done so, and taken Jerusalem in 1948. Jerusalem was thus not divisible; its partition resulted from a military stalemate, not a negotiated solution.7 6

7

Golani 1999, 597. For descriptions of Jerusalem during this period, see also Wasserstein 2002, 179; Elon 1989; Bovis 1971. Karsh (1999) for example argues that there was no collusion to partition Palestine, that the meetings in November 1947 between Meir and Abdullah were an attempt to keep Abdullah from opposing the U.N.’s partition, and that Israel showed absolutely no constraint in its 1948 military operations.

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Yet recent historical work paints a different picture. Scholars such as Avi Shlaim, Benny Morris, Menachem Klein, and Mary Wilson among others argue that Jerusalem’s partition was not a product of a military stalemate, but rather a negotiated outcome. In 1948, Zionist leaders, including David Ben-Gurion, Moshe Sharrett, Eli Sasson, and Golda Meir tacitly and explicitly bargained with King Abdullah of Transjordan to partition the city.8 Neither Israeli nor Jordanian elites wanted to divide Jerusalem. Yet both Israeli and Jordanian politicians believed partition was a pragmatic alternative to the only other possible outcome, the internationalization of the city.9 This chapter analyzes why it was Israel and Jordan were able to divide Jerusalem – an outcome that seems practically inconceivable today. The answer, I argue, lies in how Israeli elites and King Abdullah of Jordan legitimated their claims to the city. Israeli demands in particular were largely secular, and geographically confined to the western half of the city. This left room for Abdullah to pursue the holy sites in East Jerusalem, without undercutting Israel’s own claims. The chapter proceeds as follows. The next section provides an overview of the primary actors involved in Jerusalem’s partition, explaining their role in the negotiation and their preferred outcome. Following this discussion, the chapter describes the negotiations that divided Jerusalem, demonstrating that partition, although not the preference of either side, was largely viewed as legitimate – indeed, those who opposed the partition were largely dismissed as marginal to Israeli and Jordanian politics. The chapter concludes by analyzing Israel’s annexation of East Jerusalem following the Six Day War. Here I show that even after Israel annexed Jerusalem, and formally reunited the two halves of the city, much of the city remained divisible.

negotiating jerusalem: actors and their preferences from 1920 to 1948 From the 1920s through 1948, four actors negotiated over the future of Jerusalem: the Zionists/Israelis; the Palestinians; King Abdullah of 8

9

For the sake of continuity, these chapters will refer to these elites by the names they adopted after Israel’s independence, even if this is anachronistic. So while “Moshe Sharett” was “Moshe Shertok” before independence, the name will stay the same throughout. For an overview of this argument, see Bar-Joseph 1987; Galnoor 1995; Gelber 1985; Golani 1999; Morris 1990; Nevo 1996; Sheffer 1996; Shlaim 1988; Wilson 1987; Pappe, 1994; Katz 1998a. The next two chapters rely heavily on this new historiography. For a defense of the new historiography, see Shlaim 1995.

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Jordan; and international actors, specifically, Britain and the United Nations.

Dividing Jerusalem: The Zionist Position, 1917–1948 The nascent Jewish government in Palestine built a complex party system, much like the one that exists in Israel today. Even before Israeli independence in 1948, when the parliament (the Knesset) was established, complicated party politics dominated Jewish institutions such as the Jewish Agency (the prestate Jewish government), as well as broader Zionist congresses that brought together Jewish leaders within and outside of Palestine, and in the Histradut, the labor organization that governed Jewish economic life in Palestine.10 These political parties can be divided into three broad factions. Labor parties were defined by their commitment to socialist policies, as well as their pursuit of a secular, independent state in Palestine. Revisionists occupied the right of Israeli politics.11 These parties rejected socialist policies and proclaimed themselves fervent nationalists, committed to a state of Israel in the whole territory of Palestine.12 Finally, different religious parties also competed in Palestine’s political landscape. Whereas religious groups like Agudat Israel embraced an ultraorthodox theology and rejected a secular Zionist state, there were also religious parties, most notably the National Religious Party (NRP) that supported a secular, independent government in Palestine. From 1933 to 1977 it was a labor party, Mapai, that dominated this political landscape. The party controlled the Jewish Agency, and after Israel’s independence was at the center of a coalition that controlled a majority of the Knesset.13 From 1948 to 1977, Israel’s prime ministers – Ben-Gurion, Sharett, Levi Eshkol, Meir and Yitzhak Rabin – hailed from Mapai. Given their position, it was Mapai’s responsibility to bargain over the partition of Palestine and the future of Jerusalem. These leaders explicitly expressed their willingness to divide Palestine into a Jewish and Arab state. Through 1948, the Zionist position was that a partition plan was more acceptable than a continued British mandate or a unified

10 11

12

13

For descriptions of these agencies, see Medding 1990; Medding 1972; Vital 1982. For description of each of these parties see Weissbrod 2002; Medding 1990; Medding 1972; Isaac 1976; Isaac 1981. On Revisionism see Isaac 1976, 5–44; Isaac 1981, 17–41; Peleg 1987; Shafir 1996; Shapiro 1991; Shindler 1995, 36–52. Medding 1972; Shindler 1995, 36–52.

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Palestinian Jewish state.14 As early as 1918, Ben-Gurion suggested the possibility of territorial partition, and as Sharett put bluntly, “A Jewish state in the entire area of Palestine is a maximal, not a minimal (and practical plan), since only stupid zealots would adopt a plan based on the notion of either everything or nothing.”15 Zionist leaders believed the city of Jerusalem was no less negotiable. This is not to say that Jerusalem was not central to Zionist thinking. Both the advocates of partition and opponents agreed that Jerusalem must be the capital of the Jewish state.16 As Ben-Gurion argued, “There is only one issue that will fire up the Jewish people: A Jewish government in Jerusalem. A Jewish state has no allure without Jerusalem.”17 Chaim Weizmann, Israel’s first president, echoed these sentiments: “Jerusalem is the soul of the Jewish people. If any possibility exists for us to accept the partition it is necessary that the Jewish people be with us, and for the Jewish people, Jerusalem is the token of redemption.”18 Symbolically, Jerusalem stood at the very center of Jewish history, and Jerusalem established historic continuity between the Old and New Yishuv (the historic and contemporary Jewish settlements) in Palestine. With its immeasurable value, Jerusalem’s inclusion was vital to the Jewish nation. Without a capital in Jerusalem, the Zionist leadership reasoned that the partition of Palestine would be rejected in its entirety.19 Sacred space arguments suggest that Jerusalem’s historical and religious significance would render the city indivisible; yet Zionist elites believed that a divided city was necessary to secure an independent Jewish state. The Jewish Agency believed the international community would reject exclusive Jewish sovereignty over the Old City.20 No Jewish national government could legitimately lay claim to Muslim and Christian holy places, thus, as the Agency argued to the Peel Commission “there could be no question of the necessity of entrusting the Holy Places of Jerusalem to the custody of the Mandatory Power” or another international trustee.21 The Jewish Agency further feared that Jewish sovereignty

14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Galnoor 1995, 190. See also Sheffer 1996; Katz 1998a; Katz 1993. Quoted in Sheffer 1996, 206. Golani 1999, 579; Katz 1998a, 66. Quoted in Golani 1999, 579. Quoted in Katz 1998a, 63. Ibid., 1993, 46. See also Gelber 1985. Golani 1999; Katz 1998a; Katz 1993. Quoted in Katz 1998a, 62.

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over the holy places would provoke Arab uprisings, which would weaken the nascent Jewish state. Zionist leaders thus rejected sovereignty over a unified city. As Sharett wrote to a colleague in December 1937, “The only way to be extricated from the demands of the various religions is to keep the entire old city as a single unit under one jurisdiction with international authority.”22 In response to the Royal Commission’s report, which suggested internationalization of the city, Weizmann noted to the British that “we fully recognize and even desire that the Old City of Jerusalem and parts of the city remain under British control,” echoing the sentiments of the larger Zionist leadership that “there could be no question of the necessity of entrusting the Holy Places of Jerusalem to the custody of the Mandatory Power as an international trustee.”23 Zionist leaders did want the western half of the city. The western half of Jerusalem contained symbols of the New Yishuv, Mt. Scopus and Hebrew University foremost among them.24 Zionist leaders thus believed there was one solution to the Jerusalem problem – the city must be partitioned. Even before the Peel Commission’s report was released, Zionist leaders were inquiring about a negotiated division of the city. In 1932, Chaim Arlosoroff, head of the political department of the Jewish Agency, sent a letter to Sir Herbert Samuel proposing that Jerusalem be divided into Arab and Jewish boroughs. As Wasserstein notes, although Arlosoroff thought the division might “invite friction” between Jews and Arabs, he proposed that the city’s partition might be “the only means of avoiding greater evils.”25 In July 1937, the Jewish Agency officially asked that the British divide Jerusalem, giving the Jewish state the western half and leaving the Old City under international control. To demonstrate to the British that the division was technically possible, the Jewish Agency formed a Jerusalem Committee to propose how the city might be partitioned. The committee based its proposal largely on demographics, drawing a boundary line between Jewish and non-Jewish areas. In its proposal, the committee relinquished the Jewish holy places, including the Temple Mount, Mount Zion, and the Western Wall; even the Jewish Quarter in the Old City 22 23

24

25

Quoted in Wasserstein 2002, 112. PRO, file CO733/348, Letter from Weizmann to Ornsby-Gore on 15 June 1937. Quoted in Katz 1998a, 62. For a discussion of these secular, national symbols see Gelber 1985; Bar 2004; Zerubavel 1995. Wasserstein 2002, 108.

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was abandoned, due to its proximity to the holy sites. In exchange, the committee requested the Western half of the city.26 In sum, the Zionist leadership showed no hesitation, not only in dividing Palestine, but in partitioning the Holy City. Until 1948, the main obstacle these leaders would face was in finding someone willing to help them pursue this policy. The Palestinian Position During the 1920s and 1930s a Palestinian movement emerged in force to challenge Zionist claims to Palestine.27 Led by Hajj Amin al-Husseini, the British-appointed Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, elites called for Palestinian Arabs to contest Zionist immigration as a violation of religious and national rights.28 It was in Jerusalem that elites found the resources to mobilize a Palestinian identity, using symbols that would resonate beyond local, clan, or religious identities. Using potent religious symbols such as the Noble Sanctuary, the “mufti successfully bound together the forces of Muslim traditionalism and of political anti-Zionism.”29 Under the leadership of Hajj Amin, a Palestinian nationalist movement crystalized around Jerusalem and the holy places. For this Palestinian movement, dividing Jerusalem – and Palestine for that matter – was unacceptable. There were Palestinian leaders who privately supported partition, but in the face of Hajj Amin’s rhetoric, they preferred not to make their interests public.30 When asked by the British whether partition was possible, the Palestinian elite responded that although they were willing to accept a Jewish settlement within Palestine, the partition of Palestine and the creation of an independent Jewish state was unacceptable.31 In the 1920s and 1930s, then, the Palestinian position suggested a negotiated partition of Palestine and Jerusalem was impossible; the nationalism propagated by Hajj Amin “placed the Palestinian national 26

27

28

29 30 31

For a discussion of these arguments, see Katz 1993, 47; Wasserstein 2002, 112–14; Golani 1999. On the origins of Palestinian nationalism and politics during the early twentieth century, see Kupferschmidt 1987; Porath 1986; Quandt 1973; Kimmerling and Migdal 2003; Khalidi 1997, 89–176; Lesch 1979; Porath 1974; Porath 1970; Brand 1988. Wasserstein 2002, 324. In 1921 the British appointed Hajj Amin al-Husseini Mufti of Jerusalem. For discussions of the Grand Mufti and his position in Palestinian politics, see Kupferschmidt 1987. Wasserstein 2002, 324. Ibid., 210. See also Shlaim 1988, 6. Sheffer 1996, 73–88; Shlaim 1988, 57–82; Katz 1998a, 61–85.

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movement on a collision course with the Jewish national movement and its backers.”32 By the 1940s, however, the Palestinian position proved inconsequential. Infighting among the Palestinian elite weakened the movement. Palestinian politics in Jerusalem were organized around the rivalry of three families – the al-Khalidis, the al-Nashashibis, and the alHusseinis. Some of these elites – particularly the al-Nashashibis – were increasingly willing to divide Palestine and Jerusalem, provided this would secure their position over their rival factions.33 More important, between 1936 and 1948, the Palestinian elite was decimated. After the Arab Revolt, the British moved swiftly to contain Palestinian nationalism. In 1937, following the murder of a British official, the British acted against Hajj Amin as leader of the Palestinian people. To escape, Hajj Amin fled Palestine. The Mufti’s subsequent actions – most notably, an attempt to negotiate with Hitler over the status of Jerusalem – did little for his position either at home or in the international community.34 The remaining Palestinian elites – the al-Nashashibis as well as other Palestinian families – sought refuge in an alliance with King Abdullah of Transjordan, and assumed positions within the Jordanian regime. As each of these elites disappeared, so too did the public expression of a distinct Palestinian identity, and a Palestinian position at the bargaining table. Palestinian nationalism, however, would reemerge in 1967 as a potent challenge to Israel’s claims.35 King Abdullah and Jerusalem Among all of the Arab leaders, it was King Abdullah of Transjordan who was most accommodating of a Jewish state.36 In the 1930s, Abdullah, working with the British mandatory government, sought to build a relationship with the Jewish population in Palestine. With the rapid growth of the Yishuv in Palestine, Abdullah perceived increasing economic opportunities in cooperating with the Jewish Agency. Politically, Abdullah was interested in an alliance that would undercut the Palestinian political elite.

32 33 34 35

36

Shlaim 1988, 7. Pappe 2004, 86. Kimmerling and Migdal 2003, 142. On the decline in Palestinian identity during this period, see Khalidi 1997, 177–210; Quandt 1973, 45–51; Kimmerling and Migdal 2003, 137–66. Abdullah, however, was neither the first nor the only Arab leader interested in bargaining with the Zionists. Faisal of Syria had approached the Zionist leaders before Abdullah. See Shlaim 1988, 41; Rabinovich 1991.

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Appointed as King of Transjordan in 1946, Abdullah had long held larger territorial designs in the Middle East, hoping to build a “Greater Jordan” throughout all of mandate Palestine. At the very least, Abdullah hoped to extend his rule over the Arab West Bank, claiming this area for himself in the event of a partitioned Palestine. Doing so would require subverting the power of Jerusalem’s dominant Palestinian families, the al-Husseinis and the al-Nashashibis.37 After the Arab Revolt of 1936, Abdullah worked to convince Zionist leaders that he, and not the Palestinian elite, was a viable partner to partition. Whereas the Palestinian leaders and Arab states had summarily rejected Peel’s partition plan, Abdullah was quietly overjoyed, given that Transjordan would occupy 80 percent of mandate Palestine under the plan.38 When partition proposals emerged again in 1947, the Jewish Agency grew more willing to bargain with Abdullah, even if this would give him control over a Palestinian state. Jewish elites understood that their declaration of independence would likely provoke war with the Arab states, and that Transjordan’s British-trained and commanded Arab Legion would be their most formidable opponent. If they could come to an agreement with Abdullah, this would effectively neutralize the Legion, and the Israeli military forces could turn their attention to other, lessequipped Arab armies.39 Abdullah and the Jewish Agency, moreover, shared fundamental interests. Each wanted to stifle an independent Palestinian national state.40 The Jewish Agency abhorred the idea of a state led by Hajj Amin. Such a state, they believed, would only perpetuate nationalist conflict in Palestine. For Abdullah, Transjordan encompassed a large Palestinian population, and he feared that an independent Palestinian state would stir up nationalism in Transjordan, undermining his ability to rule. Moreover, like the Jewish leadership, Abdullah was willing to divide Jerusalem, provided he controlled the eastern half of the city. Abdullah understood that claiming sovereignty over the entire city was impossible, and he was not eager to govern the Jewish sections of the city. But if the city was divided, Abdullah could claim sovereignty over the holy places in the east. As Klein argues, “Abdullah could gain legitimatization of his rule and justify annexation of the West Bank through his control over the 37

38 39 40

Nevo 1996, 22. For further discussions about Abdullah’s interests, see Rabinovich 1991, 43–45; Wilson 1987, 186. Shlaim 1988, 62. Ibid., 144. Sheffer 1996, 144. Bar-Joseph, 1987, 13; Golani, 1999; Pappe, 1994, 118.

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Islamic holy places, and Ben-Gurion could declare West Jerusalem the capital of Israel.”41 International Actors: The British and the United Nations Two international actors also participated in negotiations over Jerusalem. From 1920 to 1947, the British held Palestine as a mandate, and thus oversaw the fate of Palestine and the city of Jerusalem. In 1947, the British turned responsibility for the mandate over to the United Nations. These international actors believed that Palestine must be divided into a Jewish and Palestinian state, but that Jerusalem should remain under international control. In 1937, the British considered Jewish claims that Jerusalem, like the territory of Palestine, could and should be divided, that the international community should take control of the holy sites, but that the western half should be placed under Jewish sovereignty. The British were not convinced a divided city was tenable. As outlined in the Woodhead Commission report in 1938, the British believed that a divided Jerusalem would create unimaginable security problems: “To our mind, the chief problem would be the prevention of breaches of the peace along the boundary between a population which, on one side, would be comprised almost entirely of Jews, and on the other, very largely of Arabs . . . We are of the opinion that it would have to be solved by the construction along the boundary of a road with a railing down the middle.”42 The British further argued that a divided Jerusalem would do little to stifle religious tensions. Muslims would continue to believe that Jews “had designs on the Old City,” and Christians “would be deeply grieved by a proposal to entrust part of the city precincts to the control of the Jewish community.”43 The United Nations agreed with the British position. Like the British, UNSCOP concurred that although Palestine must be partitioned, Jerusalem should remain in international, U.N.-administered hands. As UNSCOP wrote in 1948, “in view of its association with three world religions, the Jerusalem area . . . should be accorded special and separate treatment from the rest of Palestine and should be placed under effective United Nations control.”44 41 42 43 44

Klein 2001, 46. Palestine Partition Commission Report, 75. Ibid., 77, 79. Palestine – Progress Report of the United Nations Mediator, U.N. General Assembly A/RES/194 11 December 1948.

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By 1948, then, there were three possible positions on the bargaining table: an internationalized, united Jerusalem; a Jerusalem united and under Palestinian control; or a divided Jerusalem, with a Jewish state holding sovereignty over the western half and Jordan claiming sovereignty in the east. Although bargaining over the city proved to be contentious, it was the last solution that would ultimately emerge, leading the way to a divided city.

negotiating jerusalem’s division, 1947–1948 From 1937 through 1948, Jewish leaders faced a hard bargain: if they were to have an independent state, it would come without the city of Jerusalem. To the British, the leadership agreed to this policy of “Zionism without Zion.” As argued by Motti Golani, “if in 1937 the Zionist leadership had abandoned its claim to sovereignty in the eastern part of the city, in 1947 it forsook even its claim to sovereignty in Western Jerusalem.”45 The Jewish leaders’ decision was purely pragmatic. According to Sharett, “As regards Jerusalem . . . it became evident that the requisite majority for the Partition Plan could not be mustered if the internationalization of the Holy City was omitted from it.”46 Relinquishing sovereignty over Jerusalem was, as Ben-Gurion stated “the price to be paid for statehood.”47 While supporting internationalization in public, in private Zionists continued to seek their preferred solution, the partition of the Holy City. The Zionist elite would find a bargaining partner, not in the United Nations or in Britain, but in Abdullah. From 1947 to 1948, Zionist leaders and Abdullah negotiated an unwritten agreement concerning the conduct of the war and partition of Palestine from 1947 to 1948.48 Up until the very outbreak of war, leaders of the Jewish Agency such as Sharett, Meir, and Eliyahu Sasson met with Abdullah to discuss the conduct and outcome of the impending war. By November 1947, Meir and Abdullah had hammered out what amounted to guidelines for action during 45 46 47 48

Golani 1999, 580. As quoted in Brecher 1978, 14. Quoted in Wasserstein 2002, 124. See also Sheffer 1996, 261. If the Jewish Agency was at all reluctant to negotiate with Abdullah, it was because of the king himself, and not the issue of partition. Zionist leaders were unsure that Abdullah would be able to convince the Arab world, and particularly the Palestinian leadership of the legitimacy of partition. Abdullah too remained unconvinced that the Jewish state would accept permanent partition, and worried that a bargain would serve as a pretext for further irredentist claims. See e.g. Sheffer 1996, 226.

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the war. During these talks Abdullah secured Zionist support for his annexation of Arab Palestine. In return, he promised that he would never attack the Jews or join an Arab coalition designed to destroy the Jewish state.49 The issue of Jerusalem remained largely unsettled. Although both the Jewish Agency and Abdullah sought to divide the city, neither side was willing to explicitly violate the U.N. pronouncement of internationalization. As Shlaim argues, “Upsetting the United Nations scheme for international Jerusalem by dividing the city with the Jews would have been a very poor recommendation for Transjordan’s membership. Abdullah was unlikely therefore to contemplate such a scheme at that particular time despite the unquestionable attraction of becoming the protector of the Holy Places.”50 The Zionist leadership was also wary of crossing the United Nations, fearing it would then oppose the creation of a Jewish state. As a result, the Jewish Agency and Abdullah hardly discussed the territory before the war. Although no explicit prewar agreement was brokered, evidence does suggest that the Jewish Agency and Abdullah negotiated Jerusalem’s division, first tacitly before the war, and then explicitly from mid-1948 to 1950. The tacit bargain, scholars argue, is suggested in the character of fighting around Jerusalem. Fighting in Jerusalem was fierce, but more limited than often supposed. True that Jerusalem was one of the principal battlegrounds of the 1948 Arab-Israeli war; given this, it is perhaps even more notable that the boundaries of the fighting were not determined by force, but by politics. At the outbreak of war, the Arab Legion had no plans to enter or even defend Jerusalem. As Glubb Pasha – Sir John Bagot Glubb – who commanded the Arab Legion explained, “We were strictly forbidden to enter Jerusalem, which had been declared by the United Nations to be an enclave.”51 The Israeli government made little effort to capture the eastern half of the city. Ben-Gurion and his administration showed little interest in capturing spaces sacred to three religions, for fear that this would simply intensify the call for internationalization of the entire city.52 As early as July 1948 Transjordan and Israel were explicitly negotiating a division of Jerusalem.53 In June 1948, the Israeli government 49 50 51 52 53

Shlaim 1988, 116. Ibid., 152. Sheffer 1996, 354; Nevo 1996, 134. Quoted in Shlaim 1988, 239. Bar-Joseph 1987, 72; Morris 1990, 11–12; Golani 1999. See Bar-Joseph 1987, 150–243; Golani 1999; Morris 1990, 11–24; Nevo 1996; Pappe 1994, 133; Shlaim 1988, 350–64; Rabinovich 1991.

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concluded that the choice facing them in Jerusalem was one of either internationalization or a city partitioned with Abdullah. As Dov Josef, military governor of Jerusalem, put it, “It is difficult for me to fathom political thought that says that instead of the Arabs having something, it is better that neither we nor they have anything: we will remove one eye of our own, provided we can remove two eyes of theirs.”54 The Israeli government was even ready “to render a small part of western Jerusalem to the Arabs to avoid internationalization of the entire city.”55 In July 1948 the Israeli government approached Abdullah with the goal of partitioning the city: “West Jerusalem to remain in Israeli hands, Eastern Jerusalem to be held by the Transjordanians and the Old City jointly with an international umpire.”56 By November 1948, secret talks were under way between Jordan and Israel over the status of Jerusalem and Palestine. During negotiations, Sasson noted to the Jordanian negotiator Abdullah al-Tall that the internationalization of Jerusalem “would not be in the interest of either Jews or Arabs. It was preferable, he thought, to work together for a solution that would satisfy both sides.”57 Tall was excited at the prospect: “will you agree to the partition of Jerusalem between you and us? Wouldn’t that be the ideal solution?”58 Although the subject was shelved until direct and official negotiations could occur, King Abdullah did not hesitate to communicate his position to the Israeli government. In a message to Sasson, he proposed “Old Jerusalem for the Arabs and New Jerusalem for the Jews. The question to be postponed for negotiations.”59 In the final stages of war, Israel and Jordan resumed contact. Official armistice talks began in January 1949; on April 3, 1949, Jordan and Israel signed an armistice agreement semipermanently fixing Jerusalem’s boundaries.60 However a formal peace treaty eluded Jordan and Israel, leaving them with a de facto division of the city. Despite failure to reach a permanent settlement, negotiations over Jerusalem itself cannot be considered intractable. In fact, discussions over Jerusalem provided a “chink of light amid the general gloom” and were “a powerful impetus to IsraeliJordanian cooperation.”61

54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61

Quoted in Golani 1999, 583. Sheffer 1996. Documents on the Foreign Policy of Israel (hereafter DFPI), vol. I, 453, 490, 499. Ibid., vol. VIII, 229F. For discussions of these meetings, see Shlaim 1988, 362. Shlaim 1988, 362. Ibid., 364. Israeli-Jordanian General Armistice Agreement, April 3, 1949. Shlaim 1988, 534.

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The issue of Jerusalem dominated talks between November 1949 and January 1950. In December 1949, an agreement seemed especially likely. Both Israel and Jordan sought to counter a December 9 U.N. resolution that affirmed “the City of Jerusalem shall be established as a corpus separatum under a special international regime and shall be administered by the United Nations.”62 In response, Jordan and Israel hurried to declare an official partition of the city. What was produced in 1949 was no less than a draft treaty (although wary to call it such, each side referred to the paper as the Principles of Territorial Settlement).63 The first principle was the partition of Jerusalem. Both sides would adhere to the territorial status quo in the city, with two exceptions: Jordan would cede sovereignty over the Jewish Quarter of the Old City and secure access to Mt. Scopus, while Israel would grant Jordan a stretch of land connecting the city to the Bethlehem road.64 As for the holy places, Jordan and Israel agreed to a joint declaration “to guarantee the protection and preservation of and free access to the Holy Places, religious buildings and sites of Jerusalem.”65 Although neither side officially signed the agreement, the negotiations of 1949 governed the operations of the city; no military operations to conquer the city were planned, no political attempts were made to undermine claims to the city.66 With their bargain complete, Israel and Jordan both proclaimed Jerusalem the capitals of their countries. Jordan annexed the West Bank, and in April 1950 declared Jerusalem the second capital of Jordan. Israel declared Jerusalem its “eternal capital” in December 1949.

justifying partition: legitimation strategies and divisibility Jerusalem’s partition was negotiated; both Jordanian and Israeli leaders believed a divided Jerusalem to be in their interests. Looking back, this outcome is practically inconceivable. How was it that Israel and Jordan were able to divide the city? Was the partition an unholy “collusion,” the action of a few elite actors enforced on an unwilling public? Far 62 63 64 65

66

U.N. General Assembly Resolution 303 (IV), December 9, 1949. Shlaim 1988, 527. Wasserstein 2001, 180–86; Sheffer 1996, 425–41. Shlaim 1988, 527. “Treaty of Amity and Non-aggression between the State of Israel and the Hashemite Jordan Kingdom, March 1950.” Printed in Shlaim 1988, 635–39. Wasserstein 2002, 203–5; Golani 1999.

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from being unacceptable, Israeli and Jordanian actors managed to justify Jerusalem’s partition to domestic and international audiences alike. To do so, they relied on two factors. First, both Israeli elites and Abdullah had the position to divide the city: each actor enjoyed the authority necessary to effectively partition Jerusalem. Second, the Israeli and Jordanian leaders deployed rhetoric to legitimate the partition of the city. In doing so, they assured that Jerusalem’s division remained practically unquestioned for almost twenty years. Partition and the Politics of Legitimacy in the Jewish State, 1937–1950: The Position of Mapai On the Israeli side, Mapai’s elites were uniquely situated as the national representatives of the Jewish people. With ties to a number of political coalitions, Mapai had the authority to legitimate Jerusalem’s partition. With the exception of the Revisionists, Mapai occupied the center of a dense political network between the left, the religious sector, and even parties in the right wing.67 By “1935, Mapai led all the main bodies of Palestinian Jewry. It welded the community together and brought about an important degree of coordination and unity.”68 From 1930 to 1967, no party had a more authoritative position in Israeli politics. Legitimating Partition: A New Jerusalem for the Israeli State As the dominant party, it was Mapai who justified Jerusalem’s partition. To divide Jerusalem with Jordan and claim the western half as its capital required a sophisticated legitimation strategy, one capable of satisfying domestic and international audiences alike. Mapai considered a capital in Jerusalem essential to a Jewish state; without Jerusalem, the government would undermine its own domestic legitimacy. As Ben-Gurion wrote, “The future of the entire plan possibly hinges on the inclusion or noninclusion of Jerusalem in the Jewish State . . . There is one thing capable of arousing the enthusiasm of the Jewish people – a Jewish Government in Jerusalem. A Jewish state has no magic without Jerusalem . . . With Jerusalem, partition will succeed. Without it partition can wind up as a catastrophe for the Jewish People.”69 67 68 69

Medding 1972, 11. Ibid., 10. Katz 1998a, 63, italics original. See also Bar Zohar 1978, 151.

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At the same time, if it claimed Jerusalem, Israel would risk alienating the international community. Throughout the 1930s and 1940s, Mapai’s leaders saw external support – and support from the United States and Britain in particular – as crucial to the new state’s international legitimacy. Without international recognition, Mapai’s leaders believed Israel would be left vulnerable – perhaps fatally so – to its hostile Arab neighbors.70 Moreover, although Mapai’s leaders were not so na¨ıve as to think they could gain Arab support, if Jordan were to hold the holy places in the east, then at least this would muffle Arab protests over an independent Jewish state. To legitimate their claims to Jerusalem, Mapai’s rhetoric was carefully chosen to legitimate partition to domestic and international audiences. To justify their claims to the city and their support of partition, Mapai carefully distinguished sacred from secular Jerusalem. Israel had no unique claim to the former, but they had an exclusive claim to the secular part of the city – which happened to be contained in the western half of the city, geographically separated from the holy sites. The phrase Jewish Jerusalem, which as one scholar argues took “central place in the symbolic discourse that Ben-Gurion developed,”71 epitomized this legitimation strategy. Jewish Jerusalem was a demographic claim; Israel should have sovereignty over those areas which contained a majority of Jews. By the 1930s, a fifth of the Jewish settler population – 75,000 – had settled in the western half of Jerusalem. Jewish Jerusalem also captured a nationalist, secular claim to the city. It was in western Jerusalem that the settlers had made their greatest advancements. Most notably Mt. Scopus, located in the north of the city, was the location of Hebrew University, the first Jewish institution of higher learning.72 This secular/sacred distinction dominated Mapai’s rhetoric from the 1930s well into the 1960s, and was used to persuade both international and domestic audiences that the city should be divided. Internationally, Mapai’s leaders argued that when they asked to rule Jerusalem they were “not speaking now about old and holy Jerusalem, where many bask in its holiness, but of simple Jerusalem, the secular Jerusalem, which is sacred only to us. It is sacred by virtue of the holiness of labor and construction.”73 If western Jerusalem held no religious significance, the 70

71 72 73

For discussions on this point, see Major Knesset Debates, vol. I, 198–219; Sheffer 1996, Chapter 2. Klein 2004, 180. Golani 1999; Bar 2004. Quoted in Katz 1998a, 64.

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international community had no right to claim it. As Mapai responded when the Catholic Church demanded Jerusalem’s internationalization, “the Catholic Church believes that it is advantageous to render unto God that which is God’s. The Church must also render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s. We, for the first time, have appeared in the role of Caesar.”74 To mobilize their domestic audience, Mapai’s leaders steered clear of rhetoric and symbols that would invoke the holy, eastern half of the city. In announcing Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, Ben-Gurion proclaimed that “Jewish Jerusalem is an organic and inseparable part of the State of Israel, as it is an inseparable part of the history of Israel and the faith of Israel and of the very soul of our people. Jerusalem is the heart of hearts of the State of Israel.”75 After Jerusalem became Israel’s capital, Mapai’s leaders set to work “sanctifying” their capital by constructing or discovering additional sites of national significance in the western half of the city.76 Mapai’s legitimation strategy proved effective, both abroad and at home. Internationally, it was difficult for states to oppose Israel’s claims to the western half of the city. The United States and Great Britain, in particular, were convinced Zionist claims were justified. Control over Jerusalem’s holy sites could legitimately remain in British, international, or even under Arab control; however, no nation but Israel had a right to rule national, secular Jerusalem.77 With such significance, certainly states could not deny sovereignty over the western half of the city, as Jerusalem was “like London for the English.”78 Even Abdullah could publicly pronounce Israel’s claims were legitimate, so long that there was “The Old City for the Arabs and New Jerusalem for the Jews.”79 Mapai’s legitimation strategies worked with domestic coalitions as well. Mapai’s rhetoric resonated with secular Zionist coalitions within their network, coalitions that dominated the new state’s political system. From its inception, Zionism was a largely secular philosophy, and most self-identified Zionists were not religious. This is not to say that Zionist claims lacked religious significance; after all, “the Bible was the only document that could, and did, serve as title deed to the Land of Israel.”80 74 75 76 77 78 79 80

Memorandum to the Prime Minister, September 7, 1949. Quoted in Bialer 1985, 282. Statement to the Knesset, December 5, 1949. Quoted in Armstrong 1996, 391. Bar 2004; Zerubavel 1995, Katz 1998b, 141. Golani 1999; Sheffer 1996; Bialer 1985. Quoted in Golani 1999, 579. Shlaim 1988, 242. Weissbrod 2002, 23.

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Although rooted in the traditions of Judaism, Zionists valued Jewish symbols for their historical and national meaning, and not for their inherent sanctity.81 Although the Jewish community was bound by history and its shared theological beliefs, Zionists sought to abandon what they perceived to be the backwardness of religion, replacing it with the settlements of a progressive New Yishuv. Zionism effectively took messianic Judaism and secularized it – redemption was not to be found in the divine, but in immigration, in settlement, and in the creation of an independent Jewish state.82 Given their secular philosophy, Zionists were ambivalent about which territory should be included in the Jewish state. 83 As Ben-Gurion argued, “There aren’t many more concepts more ambiguous and vague than the concept of historical borders.”84 Even the Zionists’ commitment to Jerusalem was uncertain. As Roger Friedland and Richard Hecht note, it is “ironic that Jerusalem lent its name to the Jewish nationalism movement, for Zionism was built largely outside Zion.”85 In its fight for statehood, Jerusalem remained on the margins of the Zionist movement; even through the 1940s, Jerusalem played only a marginal role in Zionist imagery and settlements.86 Not surprisingly, then, Zionist coalitions saw Mapai’s claims as legitimate. But Mapai’s rhetoric resonated within other coalitions in their network as well. The orthodox parties87 rejected temporal claims to sacred space, so much so that many denied the legitimacy of the entire Israeli state. In eschewing control of the Temple Mount, Mapai’s position proved consistent with orthodox claims.88 There were parties that challenged the legitimacy of Mapai’s claims. The right was particularly aggressive. The Revisionist party of Ze’ev Jabotinsky, and later Menachem Begin, loudly condemned Jerusalem’s division, indeed the entire partition of Palestine,

81 82 83

84 85 86

87 88

For discussions of Labor Zionism and its relationship to Judaism, see Vital 1982. Weissbrod 2002, 73. Friedland and Hecht 1998. Some within the Zionist movement were even territorialists. For them, the specific geography of a Jewish state did not matter, as long as Jews obtained a sovereign state. It was this tradition that produced the Uganda proposal. But although most Zionists rejected territorialism, they still framed their connection to Palestine in historical and not biblical language. For an analysis see Vital 1982, 265–347. Kimmerling 1983, 61. Friedland and Hecht 1996, 18. Armstrong 1996; Friedland and Hecht 1996; Wasserstein 2002; Katz 1998a; Golani 1999; Katz 1993; Tessler 1994. As noted above, the National Religious Party was an exception. See e.g. Friedland and Hecht 1996, 75.

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as illegitimate. But far from undermining partition’s legitimacy, these protests only reinforced it. Revisionists claims were so dissonant, so unappealing to Israeli domestic coalitions, that they served only to illustrate the legitimacy of Jerusalem’s division. Revisionism and Jerusalem Revisionists consistently opposed Mapai’s willingness to divide Palestine into an Arab and Jewish State. In contrast to Mapai’s two-state solution, at their founding congress in 1925, Jabotinsky declared that the Revisionist goal was “the realization of a state with a Jewish majority on both sides of the Jordan River.”89 For Revisionists, partition was simply not a legitimate option. Jewish claims to Palestine were absolute. As proclaimed by Jabotinsky, “the Jordan has two banks, one is ours – so is the other.” To counter Mapai’s claims, Revisionists legitimated their claims to a “Greater Israel” with a rhetoric that combined security concerns, historical appeals, as well as religious claims. Revisionists argued that truncated borders would create an insecure state; the Jewish nation could only survive through territorial maximalism. As Begin argued, “The tiny partition area cannot secure freedom even for the few who inhabit it – let alone for the millions who remain outside. If we do not expand we shall be thrown into the sea.”90 Similarly, as Jabotinsky impressed upon the Peel Commission in 1937, “We cannot agree to the partition of the country into cantons because many, and even you, would say that the greater Land of Israel might be too small for the human goal facing us. A corner of the Land of Israel, a canton, how can we promise that his would be enough for us? It would be a lie.”91 Revisionists further justified their opposition with historical and religious rhetoric. Any exclusion of Palestine from a Jewish state would be “a historical and a practical injustice. Historically, the East Jordan Land was always part of Jewish Palestine. . . . In the view of the great Jewish misery in Eastern Europe it is wrong . . . to withhold from Jewish colonization this best part of Palestine.”92 Revisionists were particularly aggressive in their attacks against Jerusalem’s partition. Jerusalem, Revisionists argued, was “Zionism’s symbolic center and namesake. Revisionists could not 89 90 91 92

Galnoor 1995, 66. For further discussion, see also Shelef 2004, 127. Quoted in Shindler 1995, 44. Testimony before the Royal Commission, 1937. Quoted in Galnoor 1995, 66. Testimony in front of the Congress of New Zionist Organization. Quoted in Shelef 2004, 127.

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stomach Labor Zionists’ ongoing willingness to bargain it away for the sake of Jewish sovereignty.”93 As Begin exclaimed in his attack on Mapai in May 1950: You have acknowledged the legitimacy of handing over Jerusalem, the Temple Mount, the Cave of Machpela, Rachel’s Tomb, Hebron, Bethlehem, Shechem, Gilead and Bashan to a foreigner, an enemy, an oppressor. Who gave you this right? You were elected to conduct the affairs of the country. The nation may reelect you or not . . . But when were you authorized to hand over sites which have been historically hallowed for 120 generations, and for which the blood of millions has been shed?94

In 1950, Begin’s nascent Herut party challenged the de facto division of Jerusalem, proposing a law that demanded sovereignty over united Jerusalem. But far from undermining partition’s legitimacy, Revisionists failed to delegitimate Mapai’s decision to divide Jerusalem. As legitimation theory suggests, both elites and the public perceived the Revisionist position as illegitimate for two reasons. First, the content of Revisionist claims failed to resonate with the majority of the Jewish public. The Revisionist rhetoric of territorial maximalism and security was too close to the European romantic nationalist tradition that appeared to fuel the Holocaust.95 Religious rhetoric also proved unappealing to Israel’s domestic audience. Mapai’s leaders rejected what they termed the “Revisionist mystical opposition to partition . . . even a region which is inhabited only by Jews has significant mystical charm in my eyes.”96 Even to religious members of the Jewish public, Revisionist appeals seemed largely instrumental. Finally, after 1949, Revisionist rhetoric simply appeared irrelevant. As Lustick argues, with the stabilization of Israel’s borders, “Old Revisionist demands, emphasizing maximalist territorial objectives, sounded strange and increasingly irrelevant to most Israelis.”97 Second, Revisionists lacked the position to challenge Mapai’s claims. As a political actor, Revisionists occupied the margins of Israeli politics: “until 1967 Herut remained outside the pale of permissible governing partners.”98 Revisionists’ association with extreme and violent far-right parties undercut their legitimacy. In the 1930s and 1940s, Jabotinsky and Begin had led the Irgun Zva’I Leumi, which advocated an armed 93 94 95 96 97 98

Friedland and Hecht 1998, 158. Major Knesset Debates, vol. 1, 576. See e.g. Shindler 1995, 38; Weissbrod 2002, 33–35. Sheffer 1996, 87. Lustick 1988, 39. Isaac 1976, 10.

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struggle against the British Mandatory state. Revisionism also spawned the ultranationalist and violent Lohamei Herut Israel – also known as the Stern Gang – a group responsible for the assassinations of Lord Moyne and the U.N. ambassador, Count Bernadotte. Mapai used these associations to block Revisionist parties from participating in Israeli politics.99 Until 1967, Mapai officially refused to form a coalition with two Israeli parties: the Revisionists and the Israeli Communist Party.100 In his tenure as prime minister, Ben-Gurion even avoided acknowledging Begin during Knesset debates. Such power struggles successfully eliminated Revisionists’ ties to the Israeli government, and marginalized them with the Israeli public as a whole. Revisionists were derided as fascists, unfit for democratic government and unworthy of debate. For these reasons, Revisionists failed to contest the legitimacy of Jerusalem’s partition in 1948. Indeed, so dissonant was Revisionist irredentist rhetoric that in order to become a legitimate party, Revisionists were forced to abandon their claims to a unified Jerusalem before 1967.101 In sum, Mapai used its position and rhetoric to legitimate its demands to West Jerusalem, and the partition of the Holy City. So legitimate was this partition that “the general view of the Israeli establishment in these years was that they could live with a divided Jerusalem . . . Few political voices in Israel and none in the government before June 1967 called for an irredentist policy towards east Jerusalem.”102 Until 1967, divided Jerusalem was simply not a contested issue: West Jerusalem was perceived as the legitimate capital of the Israeli state. Jordan, Palestine, and the Division of Jerusalem It was not only in Israel that Jerusalem’s division was considered legitimate. The city’s divisibility was largely accepted in Arab politics as well. From 1948 to 1950, King Abdullah of Transjordan successfully negotiated Jerusalem’s partition. In doing so, Abdullah gained control of the Holy City. How did Abdullah manage to legitimate not only Jerusalem’s partition but his own control over the sacred sites? Abdullah’s success is particularly puzzling, as the king’s legitimacy was extremely tenuous. The

99 100 101 102

See e.g. Shindler 1995; Levite and Tarrow 1983; Lustick, 1993, 352. There was private, unofficial collaboration between parties. Shindler 1995, 3. Ibid., 55–58. Wasserstein 2002, 203–4.

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very existence of Transjordan was a product of Abdullah’s relationship with the British, and Abdullah was often treated as an imperial shill.103 Jerusalem’s partition did not immediately help his cause. Arab leaders fiercely criticized Abdullah’s partition of the city. Members of the Arab League – Egypt most vociferously – protested the partition of Jerusalem into its Israeli and Jordanian sectors, and on September 30, 1948, an all-Palestine congress was convened in Gaza to condemn the partition of Palestine. Led by the Mufti of Jerusalem, Hajj Amin al-Husseini, partition was denounced as a betrayal of Islam and of Palestinian Arabs. An independent Palestinian state was declared, with borders defined as “Syria and Lebanon in the North, Syria and Transjordan in the East, the Mediterranean in the West and Egypt in the South.”104 Despite his political weakness, from 1950 to 1967 Abdullah and then his son Hussein bin Talal successfully legitimated his control over Jerusalem. As a result, the Palestinian elite as well as the Arab states largely accepted the status quo. Like the Israelis, Abdullah relied on both the content of his legitimation strategies and his authority as a religious and national speaker to justify his claims. First, Abdullah’s legitimation strategies used resonant language, justifying the partition of Jerusalem as an act that protected both the Islamic faith and the Palestinian nation.105 On the eve of his invasion of Jerusalem during the 1948 war, Abdullah announced that “his national and religious duties in regard to Palestine as a whole and Jerusalem in particular . . . ” necessitated his intervention in the Holy City.106 Although secretly negotiating with Jewish leaders, he peppered his rhetoric with bellicose, anti-Semitic statements. Abdullah argued that as long as the holy sites were protected from Jewish or foreign rule in general, Jordan’s division of Jerusalem was just.107 Abdullah further justified conquering East Jerusalem as the only way Palestinian national rights could be protected from Israeli rule as well as from foreign domination. Abdullah went to great lengths to portray the partition as a move of last resort. He released evidence showing that it was Ahmad Hilmi, a Palestinian elite in Arab Jerusalem, who begged the Arab Legion to come into Jerusalem: “Unless you rescue us

103 104 105 106 107

Wilson 1990, 2. Quoted in Shlaim 1988, 298. See ibid.; Wasserstein 2002, 152–56; Wilson 1990; Porath 1974, 155–62. Quoted in Nevo 1996, 137. Pappe 1994, 121; Wasserstein 2002, 152.

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immediately, Jerusalem will fall finally into the hands of the Jews.”108 The Arab Legion’s battles with Jewish forces also served to increase Abdullah’s prestige, even as he continued to bargain an end to hostilities. By justifying his actions as a defense against the Jews and the United Nations, therefore, Abdullah legitimated the city’s partition. Moreover, Abdullah’s position gave him the authority to speak to Islamic and Palestinian national audiences as well. Abdullah claimed religious authority, using the argument that the Hashemites were the rightful Khalifah – the successor to the Holy Prophet. Although this authority was contested, it was recognized by Jerusalem’s Supreme Muslim Council in 1924, and thus carried some weight among the Palestinians and the Arab League.109 The Hashemites also claimed to have ruled some part of the Hijaz from 967 to 1925, and the Holy City of Mecca from 1901 to 1925. As such, the Hashemites were well cast as religious protectors, with legitimate authority to rule the Holy City. Furthermore, in the 1930s and 1940s, Abdullah had consistently worked to build ties with Palestinian elites. He was particularly successful in forming a network with Jerusalem’s al-Nashashibi family, the primary opposition to al-Husseini’s power in Jerusalem. In exchange for Palestinian support, Abdullah appointed Palestinians in the highest reaches of government. In doing so, Abdullah effectively positioned himself as a legitimate – even if insincere and ultimately repressive – voice of the Palestinian people. This position was made official when in December 1948, a Palestinian Congress was convened in Jericho, proclaiming the union of Palestine and Transjordan and Abdullah as King of the United Country. Although the Jericho congress is often dismissed as a sham, masking Abdullah’s insincere power grab, it gave Abdullah “the legitimation he sought in order to initiate official negotiations with Israel and to reach a comprehensive political solution.”110 After Jericho, Abdullah had the authority to partition Jerusalem in the name of the Palestinian nation.111 In the end, however, Abdullah’s success was found not so much in the strength of his own position, but in the weakness of the opposition. Although Abdullah invoked ties that gave him secular and sacred authority to Jerusalem, these ties to Islamic institutions and Palestinian nationalism were contested and weak. Yet power, as always, is relative.

108 109 110 111

Quoted in Wasserstein 2002, 155. Porath 1974, 72. Bar-Joseph 1987, 139. Shlaim 1988. Shlaim 1988; Tessler 1994, 277; Wilson 1987, 180–82.

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Although Abdullah’s position was shaky, there was no other actor who held the position to challenge his authority. No Arab state could claim Jerusalem with any more legitimacy than Abdullah; any calls to transfer authority over Jerusalem would appear self-interested.112 Realizing their predicament, the Arab states attempted to fall back on an international regime for the city, as proposed by the United Nations in 1947. Abdullah easily dismissed the plan as illegitimate, as a design to relinquish Islamic sites to colonial control. As Abdullah proclaimed, “This is Al Aksa mosque which God has blessed. The mosque is an Islamic legacy embodying the holiness and grandeur of Islam. Am I to surrender it, whilst it is a pledge binding my neck and a point I defended with the blood of my soldiers, to a foreign administration called internationalization? No – No – I shall not do so and if I did should not be Abdullah ibn Hussein.”113 There were no Palestinian actors capable of challenging Abdullah. The Palestinian elite had been destroyed after the Arab Revolt of 1936: the Mufti was in exile, and other families sought an alliance with Abdullah. When the Mufti did return to Gaza in 1948 to protest the partition, it was under the protection of Egypt, not as an independent Palestinian actor. Abdullah could successfully portray him as a puppet.114 Thus, despite political opposition, Abdullah could legitimately divide Jerusalem. Abdullah could not celebrate his achievement for long – his assassination in Jerusalem in 1950 is widely attributed to followers of Hajj Amin al-Husseini.115 But even after his assassination, Jerusalem’s partition was seldom questioned in Jordan or in the Arab world. From 1950 to 1967, Jerusalem was demoted in its position; Amman, not Jerusalem, became Jordan’s political and symbolic center. In sum, from 1948 to 1967, Israeli and Jordanian elites allowed Jerusalem to be divided. For Israelis, as long as new Jerusalem, with its secular symbols, remained within the Jewish state, partition was justified. Likewise, with their claims to the Muslim holy sites secured, Jordanian elites could accept Israeli control over the western half of the city.

jerusalem and the six day war A powerful alternative to the theory offered here is simple: the partition of Jerusalem was not legitimate, but was simply the best that all sides 112 113

114 115

Rabinovich 1991, 173. Quoted in U.S. Consul General in Jerusalem to State Department, April 24, 1950, in Foreign Relations of the United States, vol. 5 (1977), 872. Wasserstein 2002, 189–90. Wilson 1987, 212.

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could get at the time. If anything proves Jerusalem’s inherent indivisibility, it is the outcome of the Six Day War. On June 5, 1967, Israel preemptively attacked Egypt, Syria, and Jordan. In only a couple of days, Israeli forces were in a position to take Jerusalem, and on June 7, 1967, the Israeli Defense Forces entered the eastern half of the city. On that day, standing in front of the Temple Mount, Moshe Dayan announced “We have reunited the torn city, capital of Israel.”116 Thousands of Israelis immediately flocked to the Old City to visit the Western Wall. With the public firmly behind them, the Israeli government moved quickly to unify the city. Three measures, published on June 27 and 28, 1967, declared the expansion of the boundaries of the Jerusalem Municipal Corporation, and Israel’s sovereignty over this expanded territory.117 Sacred space theorists might argue that the Six Day War demonstrates two facts: that Jerusalem’s 1948 division was unstable, and doomed to fail; and that once Israel reunified Jerusalem it was no longer going to divide the city. But in reality, the Israeli annexation supports neither of these statements. First, there is no evidence that suggests the 1948 division was unstable. If sacred space theorists are right, one would assume that there would be evidence that Israeli elites had always planned to conquer the holy sites, that there were military plans for this contingency, and that Israeli elites had planned for this very outcome. This is not the case. There had been no plan for the city’s conquest before the war, not even an unofficial discussion that Israel’s war against Egypt and Jordan would bring new claims to Jerusalem.118 When Israeli forces approached the city, they stalled, waiting for instructions. When General Uzi Narkiss asked his commander, General Moshe Dayan, to enter the Old City, Dayan responded “Under no circumstances,” and that Israel wanted “none of that Vatican.”119 Only after considerable debate did the Israeli government decide to enter the city.120 Second, if sacred space theories are correct, then the reunification and indivisibility of Jerusalem should have been uncontested after June 1967. It is true that following the Six Day War, Israeli politicians pronounced the reunified city nonnegotiable. There is also absolutely no evidence that any Israeli leader was willing to return to the status quo; they would

116 117

118 119 120

“Dayan says they’ll stay,” New York Times, June 8, 1967, 17. For a discussion, see Wasserstein 2002, 213; Klein 2003; Golani 1999; Lustick 2004; Lustick 1993b; Lustick 2000. As discussed in Wasserstein 2002, 204–8; Teveth 1969, 16; Weissbrod 1985, 73. Quoted in Oren 2002, 232. Ibid., 207–8.

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not, as one government official put it, “re-install the barbed wire and minefields which have been removed.”121 But the rhetoric of a nonnegotiable Jerusalem obscured a very real and intense debate in the Israeli government over Jerusalem’s divisibility following the 1967 war. Although maximalists122 believed Israel should extend exclusive sovereignty throughout Jerusalem and the territories, minimalists123 argued that only a complex division of sovereignty in Jerusalem could preserve peace in the city. To demonstrate this, the concluding sections of this chapter show how this debate played out in three areas of policy: in arguments over the extent of Israel’s geographic claims; in debates over Israel’s claims of sovereignty over religious sites; and fights over whether Israel should exercise exclusive political sovereignty throughout the city. In each of these areas, key Israeli elites expressed a willingness to divide the city. Geographic Divisions First, Israeli elites debated the geographic scope of Israel’s claims to the city. Maximalists argued that only by greatly enlarging the city could Israel control Jerusalem. Expanding the city’s boundaries would sever Jordan’s control of the West Bank, allowing Israel to exert full sovereignty over the conquered territory. Moreover, if Israel planned to truly “Judaize” Jerusalem – to demographically dominate the Arab population – the government must include space for increased Jewish settlement. Consequently maximalists urged the government to annex massive amounts of territory within the West Bank, folding that area into a Greater Jerusalem. Although maximalists portrayed their proposed annexation as taking relatively empty land, their plans would incorporate an additional twenty-two villages and a population of 103,000 Palestinians into Jerusalem. Overall, in the maximalist plan, municipal Jerusalem would sprawl over 50,000 acres.124

121 122

123

124

Quoted in Benvenisti 1976, 119. Maximalists stretched across party lines, and included members of Gahal (Begin and Shaphir, both Ministers without Portfolio), Labor members such as Minister of Labor, Yigal Allon (although Allon could at times adopt more minimalist positions), and National Religious Party representatives Ya’acov Shapiro, Minister of Justice, and Zerach Warhaftig, Minister of Religious Affairs. They included members of Labor, such as Abba Eban, Minister for Foreign Affairs, as well as ministers from the leftist Mapam party. Benvenisti 1976, 113; Wasserstein 2002, 211–12.

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When presented with the maximalists’ map of the city, minimalists rejected it, arguing as Dayan did, “What is being proposed here, a plan for a city or a state? . . . this is not the annexation of the other part of Jerusalem, this is cutting the West Bank into two parts . . . and I’m against it.”125 What the government ultimately produced was a compromise between minimalist and maximalist positions, with Jerusalem growing from 13,000 acres in 1937 to 28,000 acres after annexation.126 Meron Benvenisti, who would serve as deputy mayor of Jerusalem, notes that this was an arbitrary boundary designed to solve a dispute over Israel’s geographic claims.127 With Jerusalem’s boundaries drawn, maximalists and minimalists would further clash over demographic control of the city. Both sides agreed that the Israeli government should promote settlements that would create a Jewish majority in the Old City, as well as distinguish Jerusalem demographically from the rest of the Arab West Bank. In June 1967, immediately following Jerusalem’s conquest, the Israeli government destroyed the Magharib (Moroccan) quarter to create a plaza in front of the Western Wall. In the Jewish Quarter, Arab squatters were evicted in what the government called a “voluntary evacuation.” At the outskirts of the city, the Israeli government increased incentives for Jewish settlement, and adopted policies to thwart Arab Housing.128 By the end of 1967, most of the Arab residents of the Jewish Quarter, a total of 2,959 residents, were evicted from the quarter. At the same time, minimalists argued that preserving pockets of Arab presence – a mosaic approach – was necessary for peaceful rule of the city. Indeed, even as settler activity increased in the occupied territories, minimalists took care to block Jewish expansion in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City. As late as the 1980s, when Jews were first beginning to settle in the Muslim Quarter, Teddy Kollek argued that settlements would only “build antagonism,” and that “unhindered development of the Arab way of life in the Arab sections of the city and Arab autonomy over their own daily lives” was the only way in which to preserve peace in the city.129

125 126

127 128

129

Quoted in Gazit 2003, 246. The final boundaries stretched east, but excluded heavily populated suburbs such as Abu Dis and al-Azariyah. In the north, the Jerusalem municipality line cut 50 meters to the east of the Jerusalem-Ramallah road, cutting off suburbs and refugee camps. Benvenisti 1976, 107–28; Lustick 2000, 6. For example, 17,500 acres at the eastern boundary of Jerusalem were deemed closed to Arab building and agriculture at the end of the 1960s. Benvenisti 1976, 248. Kollek 1981.

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Minimalists also took care to limit settlements in the outer neighborhoods of Jerusalem, which directly bordered Arab settlements.130 Minimalists, in particular, feared that allowing settlements in these areas would undermine the Allon Plan, a strategy of settlement that sought to hold only strategically valuable territory in the West Bank, and preserve the rest for negotiation.131 Building eastward would shatter the line minimalists had drawn between Jerusalem and the West Bank, encircling such cities as Bethlehem and Ramallah that would be nonnegotiable to the Arabs. Although Israeli politicians proclaimed Jerusalem nonnegotiable, in practice debates over boundaries and settlement suggest more divisibility than is often appreciated. Religious Sovereignty When Israeli prime minister Levi Eshkol reached the Western Wall in June 1967, he announced “It is a great historic privilege for me to stand here now, beside the Western Wall, the remnant of our sacred temple and our historic past . . . from Jerusalem, the eternal capital of Israel, greetings of peace and security to all the citizens of Israel and to our Jewish brethren wherever they are.”132 There can be no doubt that sacred space plays a central role in Israel’s claim to Jerusalem. But in light of such fervent religious attachment, Israeli policy is puzzling. Far from claiming exclusive religious sovereignty over Jerusalem’s holy sites, from 1967 well into the 1970s, the Israeli government distinguished religious and political sovereignty. In doing so, the Israelis effectively created a system of parcelized sovereignty throughout the city, one that ceded religious authority to Muslim and Christian institutions. The Israeli government hoped that by distinguishing religious from political sovereignty, it could dampen international opposition to the annexation of the Holy City. Immediately following the Six Day War, the international community declared Israeli control over Jerusalem unacceptable. On June 19, U.S. President Lyndon Johnson announced that in Israel, “there must be adequate recognition of the special interest of three great religions in the Holy Places of Jerusalem”; informally, the president further demanded that before Israel altered the status of the city it must 130

131

132

Michael Dumper (1992) analyzes patterns of settlements in Jerusalem’s neighborhoods. See also Albin 1997, 130–33. On the Allon plan, see Gorenberg 2006, 80–83; Ben Zadok 1985, 141–42; Pappe 2004, 201. Quoted in Benvenisti 1976, 84–85.

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consult religious leaders and any other “concerned bodies.”133 Although declining to release an official condemnation, the Vatican argued “that the only desirable solution is the internationalization of the Holy Places, as decided upon by the United Nations in 1947.”134 By June 21, the British foreign minister raised the issue of Jerusalem to the General Assembly, and by July 4 the assembly declared the Israeli annexation invalid, calling on the state to rescind its control of the Holy City.135 In response, the Israeli government argued it claimed no political sovereignty over others’ religious sites. Although Israel had returned to the holy places, it had not, as Dayan exclaimed, “come to Jerusalem to conquer the Holy places of others, nor to hamper the members of other religions, but to ensure its integrity and to live in brotherhood with others.”136 To the United Nations, Abba Eban argued that Israel’s policy “was the preservation of the unity of Jerusalem, the elevation of its material and cultural life, free access to the Holy Places of all faiths and perfect respect for religious interests.”137 Israelis had no rights to the holy places, and would ensure a division of religious sovereignty. The Israeli government faced concerns closer to home. Not surprisingly Arab countries fiercely condemned the conquest of Jerusalem, calling for a holy war against Israel’s control.138 Muslims within the city itself refused to recognize Israel’s annexation of Jerusalem. On July 24, 1967, the Muslim religious establishment formed the Higher Islamic Board, whose first action was to denounce the annexation of East Jerusalem, and protest the demolition of the Magharib quarter.139 Although by September, Israelis had deported much of the leadership of the Higher Board, the government believed it impossible to rule by force alone; some measures of religious sovereignty must be ceded. Of no less concern was the fear that by reclaiming the site of the Temple Mount, the government would strengthen Jewish religious extremism. In the long run, religious extremism could challenge the legitimacy of secular rule, and undermine the Israeli state.140 More imminent was the threat of 133 134 135

136 137 138 139 140

Benvenisti, 1976, 118. Quoted in ibid., 119. For a general discussion of the annexation process and reactions, see Neff 1984, 313– 21; Klein 2001, 158–60; Tessler 1994, 408–11; Lustick 2004; Lustick 1993a; Lustick 2000; Wasserstein 2002, 229. Benvenisti 1976, 84. Ibid., 118. See e.g., Tessler 1994, 408–11. Dumper 1997, 170. Wasserstein 2002, 223–24. See e.g. Elon 1989, 91–92; Dumper 1997, 164; Shindler 1995, 3.

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conflict between Muslims and Jews over shared religious sites, especially the Temple Mount. Even before annexation, Israel elites warned that extremists might attempt to rebuild the Temple on the Mount.141 On June 7, 1967, General Narkiss informed the Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of the Army, Shlomo Goren, that “the Temple Mount is in Our hands.”142 As Narkiss recounts, once Goren reached the Temple, he encouraged the general to destroy the Dome of the Rock, to “put a hundred kilograms of explosives in the mosque of Omar – and that’s it, we’ll get rid of it once and for all.”143 Less extreme but no less absolute, Minister of Religious Affairs Zerach Wahrhaftig claimed that the Jews were the owners of the Temple Mount, that “generations have shed blood in order to make the Land of Israel ours; and the full price was paid in money as well.”144 It was apparent, therefore, that if the Israelis were going to govern the city, religious and political sovereignty must be separated. The government’s minimalists acted legally, practically, and symbolically to divide sovereignty over Jerusalem’s holy places. Legally, the three laws that incorporated East Jerusalem included measures to protect the holy sites throughout the city. Evidence suggests that the Israeli government avoided taking some holy sites, even when this option presented itself. For example, when original plans for annexation expanded Jerusalem’s boundaries to include Rachel’s Tomb, Dayan noted that it should be excluded from the city, as it might be better if Jews had to cross the border to visit “the holiest of our Holy Places.” Even in Jerusalem, Israeli leaders separated political sovereignty from religious control. Although Warhaftig argued that “The Temple Mount belongs to us,” for example, he also declared it “isn’t in our hands. It’s in the hands of millions of Muslims,” and he saw no reason to turn a conflict with the Arabs into a battle with all Muslims, “all the way to Indonesia.”145 So concerned was the Israeli government that it even considered giving Jordan legal, extraterritorial status over the mosques, in order to avoid any suggestion of Israeli sovereignty over Muslim religious sites.146 Along with legal divisions, Israeli elites relied on practical, de facto divisions between religious and political sovereignty. As Benvenisti describes, 141 142 143 144 145

146

Wasserstein 2002, 328–38; Gorenberg 2002, 99–104. Quoted in Teveth 1969, 37. As described by Wasserstein 2002, 328 and Gorenberg 2006, 100–1. Quoted in Elon 1989, 95. See also Klein 2001, 58. Quoted in Gorenberg 2002, 103. See also Major Knesset Debates, vol. 6, Sixth Knesset, 1608–17. See e.g. Shindler 1995, 67; Shlaim 1995, 21.

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it was on the morning of Saturday, June 17, 1967 that Dayan handed over the Temple Mount/Noble Sanctuary to the Muslims. The Waqf, and not Israel, would continue to administer the Temple Mount/Noble Sanctuary area, and although Jews could visit they could not conduct public prayers or pray individually in a provocative way. The government subsequently approved Dayan’s unilateral pronouncement, and although some Jewish groups protested Muslim control, both Israeli courts and rabbinical rulings secured government policy.147 Finally the Israeli government systematically worked to erase symbols of Israeli national claims to religious sites. Upon reaching the Mount, Dayan removed an Israeli flag placed there by enthusiastic Israeli soldiers. The government further forbade public religious celebrations at the Mount. For example, although Goren had been able to blow the shofar at the Mount in June 1967, the government and the courts thwarted further ceremonies desired by Goren and other religious figures. In sum, Israeli policy in 1967 was not to claim indivisible religious sovereignty; it was, in contrast, to divide religious and political control, in hopes of creating a modus vivendi within the city. This is not to say that the policies were entirely successful, or that the Israelis were always generous when dealing with Muslim authorities. It is indisputable, however, that both legal and de facto religious sovereignty was granted within the Holy City. Divisions of Political Sovereignty At first glance, the extent to which Israel claimed political sovereignty over Jerusalem is unquestionable; from 1967 onward, Israeli politicians argued that united Jerusalem would remain firmly and permanently within the boundaries of the Israeli state. Recent articles, however, argue that Jerusalem’s 1967 annexation was neither permanent nor total, with some going as far as to claim that an annexation never really occurred.148 Yet although these critics rightfully note the unification laws are ambiguous, they overstate their case by arguing “in June 1967 the Eshkol government decided not to annex the Jordanian municipality of al-Quds . . . nor 147

148

Wasserstein 2002, 332–33; Klein 2001, 58. On the one hand, the courts generally argued that the Israeli government had a right to control Jewish prayer on the Mount for security reasons. On the other, rabbinical rulings stress that religious sanctions forbid prayer on the site of the Temple: due to sacrificial requirements, no Jew could purify himself enough to risk prayer on the Mount. See Lustick 2004; Lustick 2000. See also Golani 1999.

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to declare Israeli sovereignty over the city.”149 Certainly Israelis – politicians and public alike – had no doubt that the laws of June 1967 annexed Jerusalem. But scholars are correct that the law’s ambiguity is important; it gave the government flexibility in how it would implement Israeli control over the city. Some elites used this ambiguity to suggest that sovereignty over Jerusalem might have to be shared, even as the city itself remained physically united.150 To be clear, no Israeli wished to share sovereignty over Jerusalem. However, Labor elites especially could not “ignore the fact that the Jewish attachment to Jerusalem collided with an opposing Arab attachment and that the Jewish tie was being given practical expression at the expense of the Arab one.”151 These leaders suggested that Israel must compromise, at least to some extent, on the issue of sovereignty. These compromises were not always made willingly and were often the result of Palestinian resistance within the city. As a result of Arab protests as early as 1968, for example, Palestinians gained a measure of civil rights in areas of education, law, and political representation.152 Although the Israelis refused to recognize the authority of Jerusalem’s Shari’a courts, the government set about creating ambiguous legal arrangements in order to allow its authority and practice within the city.153 The Israeli government even ceded a measure of political authority in Jerusalem. Since 1969, when Palestinians were first eligible to vote only 20 percent – usually less – vote at Jerusalem’s polls.154 Realizing that Palestinian political participation was crucial in ensuring peace in the city, Israeli officials took steps to devolve sovereignty within the city – a special advisor to the mayor was appointed, local Palestinian officials were given administrative responsibilities, and local councils were even established. Each of the specific divisions of power described above, however, was framed as devolution of “personal autonomy,” not as recognition of Palestinian national rights in the city.155 What is more surprising, therefore, are Israeli efforts to divide national, political sovereignty within the city. Many of these attempts have harkened back to the Jordanian 149 150 151 152 153 154 155

Lustick 2004, 202. See Klein 2003. Benvenisti 1976, 342 Dumper 1997, 38–52. Ibid., 43; Klein 2003, 55–56. Dumper 1997, 48. Ibid. See also Friedland and Hecht 1996.

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option – while refusing to redivide the city physically, as early as 1967 the Eshkol government considered ceding some control over the city to Jordan, under the rule of King Hussein. Although publicly proclaiming Jerusalem as nonnegotiable, Israeli leaders privately discussed whether they should recognize King Hussein as guardian of the Muslim holy places in Jerusalem, and even fly a Jordanian flag over the Haram alSharif.156 In a meeting between Foreign Minister Eban and Hussein in September 1968, Eban further proposed a territorial corridor connecting east Jerusalem with the West Bank, land which would be returned then to Jordanian sovereignty.157 Although more ambiguous than the 1948 arrangements, therefore, Israel did propose shared sovereignty over a physically united city. Jordan, however, could not accept the offer – King Hussein no longer had the authority to accept Jerusalem’s partition. Whereas there was no official agreement, Jordan was allowed to consolidate its position in Jerusalem through its control over the Muslim religious bodies in the city. As described by Klein, Jordan appointed the chief of the Supreme Muslim Council and the Mufti of Jerusalem. With a budget of $5 million, Jordan paid the salaries of teachers, doctors, and government employees in the Holy City; it allocated more to maintain and restore the holy places. Until 1988, when Jordan officially recognized the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) as the national representative of Palestine, Jordan maintained a significant foothold in the Holy City. Shared sovereignty was not limited to the Jordanian option. In the years following Jerusalem’s annexation, the government considered proposals to give Palestinians municipal autonomy, and even a measure of national self-rule. In meetings with Dayan in 1968, Palestinian officials from Nablus and Ramallah discussed the possibility of dual sovereignty within the city – a united Jerusalem with shared authority.158 Although Dayan remained uncommitted, he sent the suggestion on to Eshkol, advising that the government explore talks with the Palestinians on these grounds. Notably, at the urging of Kollek and his deputy mayor Benvenisti, the government even considered an ambitious “borough plan” for the city. Under this borough plan, Israel would maintain “umbrella sovereignty” over the united city, but devolve local sovereignty to the city’s 156 157 158

Wasserstein 2002, 224. Klein 2003, 54. For a description see Gazit 2003, 194.

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nationalities. One version, for example, divided the Old City into three subunits, based on ethnic divides. The most far-reaching plan proposed creating a Greater Jerusalem, which would unite Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Beit Jalla, and other West Bank villages. Although expanding the boundaries of the city, the final objective was to create a single municipal district with dual sovereignty. As Benvenisti relates, there would be a division of the city into boroughs with an overall federal municipality; each of these boroughs would have specific areas of authority.159 Although nothing came of these proposals to divide Jerusalem, their very existence is significant. They demonstrate that Jerusalem, post-1967, was still very much divisible. From 1967 onward, both Israelis and Palestinians have become increasingly inflexible over Jerusalem, refusing to recognize each other’s claims as legitimate. How it is that these politicians became so inflexible – and why it is that Jerusalem became indivisible – is addressed in the next chapter. 159

Benvenisti 1976, 359.

6 Jerusalem, Indivisible

In 1967, Israel annexed Jerusalem, yet still maintained divisible sovereignty. From a contemporary standpoint, Israeli policy seems remarkably flexible, with elites willing to divide geographic, religious, and even political sovereignty. Indeed many of Israel’s policies in 1967 foreshadowed proposals for the city’s division introduced in more recent negotiations over the city. In the 1990s, just as in 1967, elites searched for ways to share sovereignty within the city by devolving power, separating religious from political claims, and by exploiting the city’s geographic ambiguity. But by Camp David, it was clear that such divisions were impossible. On the Israeli side, maximalist definitions of Jerusalem had come to dominate their bargaining position. Claims that Jerusalem was its “eternal, indivisible” capital were increasingly heard in Israeli politics, with politicians from both the left and right pledging to maintain Israel’s control over the eastern half of the city. Government policies expanded Israel’s claims to the city. After 1967, Labor elites offered incentives for Jews to settle in certain areas of the city – particularly the Old City, which contained the Western Wall. Under Likud (the primary rightist party after 1973) settlement in Jerusalem expanded to include traditionally Arab areas and the eastern outskirts of the city. The Israeli government also constructed legal obstacles to dividing Jerusalem. If the 1967 law unifying Jerusalem was at all ambiguous, the Basic Law on Jerusalem (1980) left no doubt as to Jerusalem’s status; the law reinforced the claim that “Jerusalem, complete and united, is the

159

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capital of Israel.”1 Knesset members – particularly those within Likud and the National Religious Party (NRP) – frequently introduce laws designed to block negotiation over the city. In November 2000, for example, the Knesset passed an amendment to the Basic Law defining united Jerusalem as including the entirety of the city annexed in 1967; this was designed to prevent the Israeli government, then led by Labor leader Ehud Barak, from giving the Palestinians Jerusalem’s eastern suburbs.2 In 2007, faced with a new round of Israeli-Palestinian negotiations, Likud introduced a bill mandating that any division of Jerusalem would require a supermajority in the Knesset – the support of 81 Knesset members. In 2008, the bill passed its first reading. To complicate matters, as the Israeli position became more inflexible, a Palestinian nationalist movement emerged that would challenge Israel’s demands for a united city. From 1936 to 1967, the voices of Palestinian nationalism were silent. Calls for Palestine’s liberation from Israel’s rule were subordinated to Pan-Arabism. The end goal of the Palestinian movement was not a sovereign state, but Arab Unity.3 The Six Day War humiliated the Arab regimes, and destroyed Egypt and Jordan’s control over Palestinian nationalism. In their place, the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO) – under control of Yasser Arafat’s Fatah – became the legitimate representative of the Palestinian nation. The PLO’s demands were not immediately incompatible with Israel’s claims to Jerusalem. At first, the PLO said little to nothing about how Jerusalem fit into their call for a separate Palestinian nation. From the late 1980s onward, however, the PLO’s position on Jerusalem became more intractable. Palestinians would only accept a separate state that included a capital in East Jerusalem, what the Palestinians call Al-Quds. In the 1990s through the present day, Palestinian claims have grown more expansive, demanding control over not only the eastern suburbs, but also over the holy sites in the heart of the city.4 1

2

3

4

Text available through Israel’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, http://www.mfa.gov.il/ MFA/MFAArchive/1980_1989/Basic+Law-+Jerusalem-+Capital+of+Israel.htm. Accessed May 28, 2009. Note that before the bill passed, Labor leaders managed to remove the phrase “within 1967 borders.” As discussed below, this was an attempt to keep the boundaries of the city ambiguous, and thus maintain some room for negotiation over its status in the future. For an overview of the 2000 law, see Lustick 2004. Cobban 1984, 24. For a discussion of pan-Arabism and the PLO, see e.g., Brand 1988; Gresh 1988, 18–23; Khalidi 1997, 148–49; Kimmerling and Migdal 2003, 78–79. See e.g., Wasserstein 2002, 308; Klein 2003, 175; Rabinovich 2004, 151–52; Klein 2001, 152–153.

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From 1967 onward, Israelis and Palestinians alike have become committed to irreconcilable positions; as a result, Jerusalem has become indivisible, a fact demonstrated quite clearly during the Camp David II negotiations in 2000. How is it that Jerusalem became indivisible? Why is it that neither Israelis nor Palestinians can compromise over the city, even at the cost of peace? The introduction to this section argued that religion is not a sufficient explanation for Jerusalem’s indivisibility. This chapter tests an alternative theory: that Israeli and Palestinian politicians’ legitimation strategies constructed Jerusalem as indivisible territory. To demonstrate this argument, this chapter provides an analytical narrative of Israeli and Palestinian politics from 1967 through the present day. The first section of the chapter takes up developments in Israeli politics from 1967 through 1977. I begin with an analysis of Israeli legitimation strategies. I show that from 1967 onward, Israeli rhetoric shifted substantially. In the years before 1967, Israeli elites had justified their claims to Jerusalem with secular and historical rhetoric. In contrast, after 1967 politicians frequently turned to religious-nationalist rhetoric – what scholars refer to as Religious Zionist language – to justify their claims to the city.5 I then use qualitative network analysis to explain how this shift in legitimation strategies affected Israeli politics. Legitimation strategies, I argue, had three switching effects that changed the structure of Israeli politics. After 1967, legitimation strategies had a yoking effect, creating new Religious Zionist actors in Israeli politics. From 1967 to 1977, legitimation strategies mobilized coalitions, strengthening the position of Religious Zionist actors in Israeli politics. Finally, in the 1970s and 1980s, Israeli legitimation strategies polarized coalitions, breaking the network ties between the major Israeli parties, and members who would seek territorial compromise. This analysis is repeated in the second section of this chapter, which takes up changes in Palestinian politics. I begin with an overview of Palestinian politics from 1967 to 1980, demonstrating that the PLO initially relied on secular rhetoric as they pursued their goal of a Palestinian state. In the 1980s, political competition – especially between Fatah and the Muslim Brotherhood – forced Palestinian elites to change their legitimation strategies, and adopt a combination of religious and nationalist 5

There is a large literature on New or Religious Zionist ideology and its effect on Israeli politics. On these new legitimation strategies, see Aronoff 1984a; Aronoff 1984b; Aronoff 1993; Isaac 1971; Isaac 1976; Isaac 1981; Kimmerling 1983; Lustick 1987; Newman 1985; Newman 1986; Schnall 1979; Seliktar 1983; Shindler 1995; Sprinzak 1985; Sprinzak 1989; Tessler 1986; Weissbrod 1981; Weissbrod 1985.

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rhetoric. Over time, this shift in legitimation strategies had profound effects on political structures; it created and mobilized new actors – most notably Hamas – and removed moderates from positions of power. In sum, changes in legitimation strategies altered Israeli and Palestinian political structures, creating constraints that would construct Jerusalem as indivisible. As religious-nationalist coalitions strengthened in each political system, so too did the elites on both sides become locked-in to their rhetoric, unable to accept compromise over the city as legitimate. To demonstrate this, the chapter concludes by analyzing recent attempts to divide the city, from 1993 to 2000.

israeli politics and the shift in legitimation strategies The 1970s were a time of great upheaval in Israeli politics. Although the 1967 war was a striking success, it left Labor with the task of administrating the newly occupied territories captured in the war, an expanse that included the Sinai, the Golan Heights, and the West Bank. Internationally, Israel faced pressure from the United Nations, as well as from the United States, to withdraw from the territories and return to its 1967 borders. Making matters more complicated, although Israel had signaled its willingness to negotiate over the occupied territory in exchange for a permanent peace in the Middle East, its efforts had been met with the three no’s: the Arab states promised “no peace with Israel, no recognition of Israel, no negotiations with [Israel].”6 Israel was undergoing significant domestic transitions as well. Labor, long dominant in the Knesset, now faced a growing challenge from the right. Begin’s Likud, once at the margins of Israeli politics, gained increasing traction in the wake of the 1967 war. The party roundly criticized Labor, lambasting its hesitancy to act earlier against Nasser’s mobilization, and condemning its limited policies in the territories. To make matters worse, within Labor itself power struggles and scandal threatened to undermine the party’s cohesiveness and strength.7 It was in this political context that legitimation strategies – the rhetoric used to justify claims to territory – significantly changed.8 The last chapter 6 7

8

The Khartoum Resolution, Article III, September 1, 1967. On the challenges facing Labor, see Shindler 1995, 58–84; Friedland and Hecht 1996, 167. This assessment is based on two measures. First, a shift in rhetoric can be measured in the published documentary resources. Here a content analysis of parliamentary debates, and statements in Israeli and international newspapers (the Jerusalem Post was particularly

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demonstrated that claims to Jerusalem, and to territory more generally, relied on secular and historical rhetoric. An overview of debates in the Knesset shows limited use of religious imagery, even when explicitly debating Jerusalem’s status. If religious justifications were used, they failed to resonate, and were quickly marginalized. In the years following the Six Day War, however, Israeli politicians changed their legitimation strategies, claiming territory not only for historical and security reasons, but for religious-nationalist ones as well. This new rhetoric, which scholars of Israeli politics call New Zionism or Religious Zionism combined traditional Zionist rhetoric, with its symbols of pioneering and settlement, with a fervent religious discourse, which maintained a Jewish presence in Jerusalem and the occupied territories was divinely ordained.9 Religious Zionist rhetoric is most often associated with the Likud party. Begin relied almost exclusively on religious-nationalist rhetoric throughout his tenure as prime minister, from 1977 to 1983. Begin’s successors as party leader – Yitzhak Shamir, Benjamin Netanyahu, and Ariel Sharon among them – all used religious-nationalist rhetoric when justifying Israel’s territorial claims, particularly its claims to Jerusalem. But this rhetoric was not confined to the right; from 1967 onward, prominent members of the Labor Party also turned to religious-nationalist language to legitimate their claims to territory. Not all Labor members used this rhetoric; some, like Labor’s Foreign Minister Abba Eban and Jerusalem’s mayor Teddy Kollek shied away from religious-nationalist claims. Yet others, particularly Labor hawks, who were committed to holding a portion of the occupied territory, embraced religious imagery. An examination of public speeches and parliamentary debates demonstrates a marked increase in religious claims to territory. Labor elites used religious rhetoric to claim Jerusalem as soon as the eastern half of the city was captured. A few hours after the Old City was taken, Eshkol spoke before the Western Wall, proclaiming his joy to represent “the many generations of our people, whose souls have yearned for Jerusalem and its

9

relied upon) demonstrate a marked increase in religious rhetoric when referring to the territories, especially Jerusalem. The shift is dramatic: whereas government leaders rarely if ever used religious rhetoric to justify claims to the territories before 1967, after 1967 religious rhetoric is a constant. Second, the shift measured is backed by an extensive secondary literature on Israeli politics and rhetoric before and after 1967. On these new legitimation strategies, see Aronoff 1984a; Aronoff 1984b; Aronoff 1993; Isaac 1971; Isaac 1976; Isaac 1981; Kimmerling 1983; Lustick 1987; Lustick 1993a, 354–55. Newman 1985; Newman 1986; Schnall 1979; Seliktar 1983; Shindler 1995; Sprinzak 1985; Sprinzak 1989; Tessler 1986; Weissbrod 1981; Weissbrod 1985.

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sanctity.”10 Yitzhak Rabin, then the Israeli Defense Forces Chief of Staff, comforted the families of fallen soldiers: “The countless generations of Jews murdered . . . for the sake of Jerusalem say to you: ‘Comfort ye, O our people; console the mothers and the fathers whose sacrifices have brought about redemption.’”11 Moshe Dayan, the Labor government’s Defense Minister, was perhaps most vocal in his use of religious rhetoric. According to Dayan’s rhetoric, all of the occupied territory legitimately belonged to Israel. In response to domestic and international actors who criticized Israel’s settlement policy, he argued that, “anyone who says that Israelis do not have the right to . . . land in Judea and Samaria had better stop teaching the Bible to his children.”12 Likewise, when the international community demanded Israel compromise over Jerusalem, Dayan replied that “I told America that in order to arrange for Jerusalem not to be our capital, it was not enough for the UN Security Council and Assembly to pass resolutions to that effect. They would also need to rewrite the Bible, and nullify three thousand years of our faith, our hopes, our yearnings and our prayers.”13 In short, 1967 onward witnessed a measurable change in Israeli rhetoric. Whereas religious rhetoric was largely absent from earlier governments, religious language was now used consistently to justify Israel’s claims to the occupied territories, and especially to legitimate its annexation of Jerusalem.

strategy and religious rhetoric Why did Israeli politicians turn to religious Zionism to justify their claims to territory? Although it would be a mistake to overlook the role of sincere emotional ties to territory, particularly in the case of Jerusalem, evidence suggests that this change in legitimation strategies did not reflect a deep ideological shift. Many of the Israeli politicians who now embraced religious Zionism seemed to be acting contrary to their own beliefs. Dayan may have embraced religious Zionist rhetoric, yet he publicly proclaimed himself as “not religious.”14 Rabin, too, questioned the rationale of 10

11 12 13 14

“Israeli soldiers weep and pray at the Wailing Wall in the old city of Jerusalem,” New York Times, June 8, 1967, 17. “Eshkol rejects return of Israel to old frontiers,” New York Times, June 13, 1967, 18. “Dayan is pushing territory plans,” New York Times April 4, 1973, 5. Dayan 1981, 177. See for example an interview with Dayan published in the New York Times, June 8, 1969.

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religious claims to territory, and critiqued his fellow Labor members for allowing borders to become a fetish.15 Yigal Allon, then the deputy prime minister, used religious rhetoric when talking to settlers, but not because it was in his immediate interest. As Shlomo Gazit argues, “it was hard to understand why Allon was one of the settler’s first supporters.”16 Allon’s goals, after all, were strategic, and he believed that irrational religious attachment to territory could threaten Israel’s security. Moreover, religious rhetoric was often used tactically, as a device to ensure a favorable compromise, and not to prevent a negotiated settlement. Even when Jerusalem was on the table, hard-liners demonstrated more flexibility than their language would suggest. Although Jerusalem was central to Dayan’s rhetoric, for example, he stridently defended giving Muslims sovereignty on the Temple Mount. When Israel began negotiating with Egypt in 1978, he argued that not even East Jerusalem was excluded as a subject of bargaining.17 Why then was religious rhetoric so prevalent after 1967? Labor hawks believed religious rhetoric incurred three specific benefits. First, in the wake of the 1967 war, Labor was faced with a legitimacy crisis.18 In traditional Zionism, the state of Israel, with its 1948 boundaries, fulfilled the Zionist project; there was no lingering need to pursue East Jerusalem or the whole of Palestine. When Jerusalem and the greater territories were captured, Labor found itself occupying territory “without accepting the ideology that underlay” their claims.19 Labor now demanded sovereignty over biblical territory, yet denied the religious basis for these claims. Traditional Zionism provided no legitimate claim to 1967’s boundaries. As one soldier put it, “Zionism has become nothing more than patriotism, the obligation to go to war and protect the security of Israel.”20 In contrast, religious Zionism justified Israel’s unification of Jerusalem, and its expansion into the occupied territories. By occupying these territories, Israelis were obeying both Zionism’s pioneering mandate and God’s command to settle within the whole of Palestine. Second, domestic outbidding encouraged Labor hawks to adopt religious rhetoric. After 1967, Labor split over the issue of territories, with 15 16 17

18 19 20

“Governing is harder than conquering,” New York Times, May 4, 1975, 11. Gazit 2003, 253. “Dayan is optimistic on peace treaties,” New York Times, August 12, 1977, 15; for a discussion, Wasserstein 2002, 235. See e.g, Isaac 1976, 131–34; Seliktar 1983; Weissbrod 1981; Aronoff 1989. Isaac 1976, 131. Quoted in Weissbrod 1981, 530.

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a schism emerging between those who saw the occupied territories as completely negotiable – and as a result, wanted to limit Israel’s settlement in the territories – and those such as Dayan and Meir that argued Israel must hold on to most of the 1967 territories.21 Labor hawks relied on religious Zionist rhetoric to critique their more moderate rivals. For example, Dayan used religious rhetoric to challenge the Allon Plan, which proposed limiting Jewish settlement to areas of strategic value. Dayan criticized these limits, arguing “the Jewish affinity to Kiryat Arba, Beth-el, and Shchem go far beyond security considerations.”22 Allon, in turn, defended his plan with religious rhetoric, praising settlers for reestablishing “a Jewish presence in the city of the Fathers.”23 Labor saw other domestic benefits to using religious rhetoric. In the 1960s, Labor faced a growing demographic challenge, with the influx of the Mizrahim into Israel.24 By the Six Day War, about half of the Israeli electorate was made up of Middle Eastern refugees, a shift that put pressure on Labor Zionism. Labor Zionism was intimately linked with European, or Ashkenazi Jewry, and the Mizrahim had long felt excluded, even looked down upon, by this once dominant group. Making matters worse, Labor’s secular rhetoric seemed alien and dissonant to the Mizrahim, who conceived of politics as based around traditionally defined ethnic-religious identities.25 Not surprisingly, the Mizrahim felt “alienated from the Labor Zionist establishment.”26 If Labor were to appeal to this important group, it would have to insert religious rhetoric into its politics. Finally, Labor politicians also turned to religious legitimation strategies as a means of binding their hands, committing themselves to a hard-line position that would force the Arab states to compromise. Whereas the Arab states proclaimed their three no’s, it seemed only a matter of time before Israel would be forced to come to the bargaining table. Labor politicians were not entirely inflexible. The vast majority of Labor hawks believed territorial compromise with the Arab states would be necessary

21 22 23

24

25 26

Shindler 1995, 71–72; Lustick 1993a, 357; Peleg 1987, 191. Shindler 1995, 86. Quoted in Weissbrod 1985, 249. On Allon and religious rhetoric, see Gazit 2003; Isaac 1976; Gorenberg 2006; Tessler 1994; Teveth 1969; Levite and Tarrow 1983; Shlaim 1994. Sephardic Jews have roots in the Iberian peninsula; the Mizrahim are Middle Eastern Jews. Dowty 1998, 118–19. See also Kimmerling 2001, 130–32. Dowty 1998, 124.

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to obtain a lasting peace.27 But if Israel were to negotiate, it must be from a position of strength; if the state were too quick to compromise, this would only encourage Arab aggression. Ideologically, the rhetoric of religious Zionism portrayed compromise as difficult, if not unthinkable. Practically, in appealing to the pioneering tradition, Labor hawks hoped to establish facts on the ground in the form of settlements, making it more costly for Israel to draw from the new territories. For these reasons, Israeli politicians adopted Religious Zionist rhetoric. Although these legitimation strategies were largely designed to serve political interests, they would transform Israeli political networks in unanticipated ways, with dire consequences for territorial compromise.

religion, rhetoric, and structural effects Scholars of Israeli politics have convincingly argued that Religious Zionist rhetoric had unintended blowback effects: once used, these legitimation strategies constrained politicians, so much so that they were no longer able to compromise over much of the occupied territory. Gershon Gorenberg argues, for example, that although Allon’s aims may have been strategic, his rhetoric would ultimately “cast him on the ash heap of history.”28 By adopting new legitimation strategies, Israeli politicians created new actors and structures in Israeli politics. In particular, “unnoticed by them, fertilized by their own actions, the seed of a new, radical settlement movement was growing.”29 What has remained a puzzle is why rhetoric led to these unintended outcomes. This section uses qualitative network analysis to explain how legitimation strategies came to constrain Israeli politicians. I argue that legitimation strategies had three switching effects: they yoked together a new Religious Zionist actor; they strengthened this actor’s position in Israeli politics; and they ultimately severed ties with those actors who supported territorial compromise. Yoking: The Emergence of Gush Emunim “Students of social movements,” Israeli scholar Rael Jean Isaac notes, “often assume that movements arise and then develop an ideology to 27 28 29

Lustick 1993a, 357. Gorenberg 2006, 207. Ibid., 191.

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Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy Israeli politics, 1967

Labor Coalition

NRP

Israeli politics, 1977

Labor Alignment

Likud

NRP

Gush Emunim

Rafi Gahal

figure 6.1. Network changes in Israeli politics, 1967–1977.

provide an appeal to the widest variety of constituents.”30 But, as Isaac argues, actors do not only create rhetoric. Rhetoric can define new actors: legitimation strategies can have a yoking effect, creating and transforming political identities. When Israeli politicians changed their legitimation strategies, this yoked together a new actor, a Religious Zionist entity epitomized by groups such as the Land of Israel Movement and Gush Emunim. Religious legitimation strategies “defined, not only the key issues, but the composition of the Movement itself – who could remain within, who would have to leave, and who could not enter.”31 As with the construction of Ulster, Israeli politicians did not create this new identity from scratch. The actors who made up the new Religious Zionist actor had a prior social existence in Israeli politics. Religious Zionists included kibbutzes, secular and socialist communal organizations that represented traditional Zionist values of pioneering and settlement.32 Older Revisionists, who had pursued a goal of Greater Israel, long before the Six Day War, were also drawn to the Religious Zionist movement. The New Zionist identity also absorbed older religious networks as well, a group of actors which had increased substantially in the 1950s and ’60s.33 Although each of these actors existed prior to the new legitimation strategies, they did not identify as a coherent political actor. The 30 31 32 33

Isaac 1976, 53. Ibid. See e.g., Lustick 1988, 12–13; Schnall 1985, 17; Yaniv and Yishai 1981. Sprinzak 1985, 37.

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boundaries between these groups appeared insurmountable. Zionist settlers saw religious actors as backward, on the margins of Israeli society. Religious coalitions viewed secular Zionism, with its emphasis on redemption through settlement, as “too heretic to appeal to the orthodox.”34 Religious Zionist rhetoric could cut across these boundaries, treating pioneering, settlement, and redemption as part of a coherent project. This new legitimation strategy resonated across longstanding social divides for two reasons. First, the actors using the rhetoric were positioned as identity bridges; they held ties with each of the relevant actors, and thus had the authority to speak across these groups. For example, Rabbi Tzvi Yehuda Kook was deeply embedded in religious networks. It was Kook who stood at the forefront of the religious movement in the 1950s, and it was his followers who would eventually lead Gush Emunim. At the same time, Kook maintained dense ties with Labor Zionists – his father had worked closely with the founding government of Israel, and had established thick ties to successive Labor governments.35 Within the Labor Party, politicians like Dayan also bridged secular and religious coalitions. As Ian Lustick argues, Dayan’s position was critical in ensuring the new legitimation strategies resonated with a broad audience.36 Dayan was exceedingly popular among secular Labor voters; in the early 1970s, many believed he was next in line for Prime Minister. At the same time, Dayan built a dense network with religious parties, especially the National Religious Party. With ties to multiple groups, these bridging actors held substantial rhetorical power and could speak authoritatively across a broad range of coalitions. Second, the content of Religious Zionist rhetoric facilitated yoking. Religious Zionist legitimation strategies were culturally inventive. They tied together what had been two contradictory strands of rhetoric – the Zionist and the religious – and introduced an explosive new discourse in Israeli politics. What was particularly important is that this cultural invention resonated across social boundaries. Earlier legitimation strategies had simply reinforced traditional boundaries between secular and religious networks; appeals to secular history seemed blasphemous to religious actors, whereas religious rhetoric sounded overly mystical to

34 35

36

Weissbrod 1985, 84. Aronoff 1984a, 68–72; Lustick 1988, 31–36; Friedland and Hecht 1996, 148–50, 204; Pappe 2004, 201; Wasserstein 2002, 334. Lustick 1993a, 357–58; Isaac 1976, 130–34; Isaac 1981, 54.

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the secular. So divided were these groups that their common cause – the settlement of the occupied territories – was not enough to unite them. It was only when Israeli elites combined religious and secular symbols that the boundaries between the religious and secular dissolved, creating space for a new Religious Zionist identity in Israeli politics. The first concrete yoking effect appeared in August 1967, with the founding of the Land of Israel Movement. The Land of Israel’s membership was largely secular, composed of intellectuals, kibbutz leaders, generals, and politicians. The Land of Israel’s rhetoric, however, adopted religious symbols to argue that “no government in Israel is entitled to give up this entirety, which represents the inherent and inalienable right of our people from the beginnings of its history.”37 This ideology of undivided Israel appealed to actors from both the left and right of the political spectrum, drawing these groups together in a common identity. The convergence of the religious and secular networks was not easy; as they first joined forces they appeared as “two tribes, each a curiosity to the other.”38 This identity would strengthen in the 1970s, as evidenced in the founding of Gush Emunim in 1974. Like the Land of Israel Movement, Gush Emunim deployed the symbols of Zionism and religious rhetoric, declaring the occupied territories “as ours. There are no Arab areas or Arab lands, only Eretz Israel, the eternal heritage of our forefathers, and it, with all its Biblical frontiers, is under Israeli rule.”39 Although much of Gush Emunim’s leadership was religious, like the Land of Israel Movement, its identity cut across traditional boundaries.40 By appealing across social boundaries, Gush Emunim represented not only a new identity, but a massive one, which at its apex included more than 20,000 members.41 A final stage of yoking would occur in 1977, when Gush Emunim and the Land of Israel merged to form a single, coherent actor. Religious Zionist actors quickly proved a formidable force in Israeli politics. Gush Emunim worked as an extraparliamentary actor, not a formal party like Likud or Labor. This did not dampen their influence. From its founding forward, Gush Emunim challenged the legitimacy of 37 38 39 40

41

Quoted in Lustick 1988, 43. Gorenberg 2006, 194. Khalifa 1984, 154. Newman 1986; Tessler 1986; Weissbrod 1981; Lustick 1993a, 383; Lustick 1988; Schnall 1985, 16–17; Friedland and Hecht 1996, 204–24; Sprinzak and Diamond 1993, 48; Bauer 1985, 92–93; Weissbrod 1982; Sprinzak 1985, 1989. Lustick 1988, chapter 42–71; Lustick 1987.

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territorial compromise, using Labor’s own rhetoric against it.42 They would decry Labor’s opposition to settlements, arguing that “there were months when we thought that the Government of Rabin is not Zionist because it is against settlement.”43 But Religious Zionists proved influential inside the Israeli government as well. Once rhetoric had yoked these disparate networks into a coherent actor, legitimation strategies had a second switching effect; they mobilized New Zionist actors, creating thick ties between these coalitions and the Israeli political structure. In doing so, Religious Zionists proved more powerful than what their numbers would suggest. Coalition Mobilization Over time, Religious Zionist actors strengthened their ties with the Knesset’s three major parties: the National Religious Party, Labor, and, most notably, Likud. This coalition mobilization occurred in three stages. First, from 1967 to 1970, Religious Zionists mobilized within the National Religious Party, which often partnered with Labor in Israel’s coalition government. Up until 1967, the NRP exerted little influence on foreign policy, preferring to focus on education and other domestic issues. When the NRP did speak about foreign policy, its tone was moderate and even dovish on issues of territorial boundaries. It was members of the NRP, for example, who opposed the Six Day War, and even argued against the military’s entrance into Jerusalem. As the NRP’s Haim Moshe Shapira declared in June 1967, “I assume that there will be pressure to internationalize the city, and I, for one, won’t oppose the idea.”44 In the late 1960s, however, a Young Guard developed within the NRP. Young Guard leaders were deeply embedded in Israel’s growing religious networks; many of the elite were followers of Rabbi Kook.45 Following the 1967 war, the Young Guard became vocal opponents of territorial compromise, arguing that Israel had an irrevocable, divine right to the occupied territories. Furthermore, they urged the NRP to abandon their traditionally neutral stance towards foreign policy, and develop “serious opinions regarding the legitimacy of Jewish claims to the territories.”46

42 43 44 45 46

Aronoff 1989, 27. Quoted in Drezon-Tepler 1990, 185. Quoted in ibid. Lustick 1988, 29. Schnall 1985, 20.

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At first, the Young Guard remained on the margins of the NRP.47 When Labor began using religious rhetoric to legitimate its own claims, however, the Young Guard seized the opportunity. If the government was now claiming territory for religious reasons, how could the NRP deny this policy? Using Labor’s rhetoric to justify its own position, the Young Guard demanded that dovish factions in the NRP concede seats to the Young Guard. With the Young Guard’s accession, Religious Zionism captured the NRP. Not only did the Young Guard embrace Religious Zionists’ goals, it had dense ties with the Land of Israel Movement and Gush Emunim.48 By the early 1970s, the Young Guard dominated the NRP, leading the party and capturing a majority of the party’s seats.49 As a result, in 1973 the Young Guard was able to rewrite the platform of the party using the language of Religious Zionism, declaring that the NRP would not condone any plan that would yield any part of Eretz Israel. Second, as legitimation strategies changed, Religious Zionists mobilized within the Labor Party itself, building dense ties with the governing coalition. As Sprinzak argues the Religious Zionist influence on Labor governments – including those of Golda Meir and Yitzhak Rabin in the 1970s – is puzzling. We might expect Religious Zionists to wield power if they could mobilize a large number of votes, or perhaps, given Israel’s parliamentary structure, if a major party depended on the Religious Zionists to build a governing coalition. Yet Religious Zionists did not have significant electoral power; they were not a large percentage of the population, nor did they constitute a parliamentary majority. Even more puzzling, Labor leaders perceived Religious Zionists as working “against the expressed wishes of the Israeli Cabinet”; they were particularly distressed that Gush Emunim insisted on settling in areas where the government had no desire to expand.50 Once Labor had used Religious Zionist rhetoric, however, it feared that any appearance of hypocrisy – any suggestion that it would not support the settlement movement – would undermine its claims. As a result, Religious Zionists may have been electorally weak, but they grew increasingly able to “penetrate the Israeli establishment. Gush Emunim brought the attack of the Israeli periphery on the political center to the

47

48 49 50

Isaac 1981 79–80; Schnall 1985, 20; Friedland and Hecht 1996, 483; Aronoff 1984a, 103. Drezon-Tepler 1990, 172. See e.g., Aronoff 1984a; Isaac 1981; Drezon-Tepler 1990; Yaniv and Pascal 1980. Sprinzak 1985, 27.

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fore.”51 Fearing they would appear illegitimate, Labor politicians such as Allon, Dayan, and Peres strengthened their ties with settlers, visiting settlements, allocating funds, and pledging support for the growth of settlements.52 Labor leaders further conceded government seats to the Religious Zionists movement. Even Rabin was compelled to bring Ariel Sharon – a favorite of Gush Emunim – into his government, in order to signal his commitment to the settlement movement.53 Both the NRP and Labor were thus subjected to coalition mobilization, a structural change that was neither desired nor anticipated by the majority of its members. Ultimately, it was when Likud took power in 1977 that Religious Zionism fully penetrated the Israeli political structure. Under Begin, Religious Zionism became the dominant language of territorial claims, so much so that the aims of Gush Emunim and Likud are often now considered inseparable. But even Likud’s appeals to Religious Zionism were often strategic. As Lilly Weissbrod contends, Begin’s Likud was elected almost by accident in 1977. It was not so much that the public supported Likud’s policies, as much as it was that they had grown tired of a stagnant, scandal-ridden Labor Party. When they came to power, however, Likud politicians “lacked a systematic ideological doctrine capable of justifying sacrifices or coordinating sustained implementation of their annexationist objectives.”54 Religious Zionism gave Likud a coherent ideological identity. Likud’s use of Religious Zionism prompted coalition mobilization, creating dense ties between Likud and Gush Emunim. The Likud-Gush Emunim alliance was not solely one of interest. Begin believed outwardly aligning with Gush Emunim could actually hurt the party in the long run, and other members of Likud argued that they “did not seek to attach Gush Emunim whose wild tactics the Likud may have deemed a liability when seeking a more moderate image.”55 Whatever wariness Likud members might have had about the Religious Zionists, they found themselves compelled to support them; there was simply no party whose legitimacy more fully depended on supporting new Zionism. Likud’s dependence gave the Religious Zionists unparalleled access to the Israeli government. Upon Likud’s election in 1977, Begin loudly signaled his support for Religious Zionists by appointing Zevulen Hammer 51 52 53 54 55

Sprinzak 1999, 175. See e.g., Gorenberg 2006, 206; Teveth 1969; Gazit 2003. Gorenberg 2006, 318. Lustick 1988, 9. Drezon-Tepler 1990, 197.

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as Minister of Education. His appointment led to a public outcry among those who feared that Hammer would turn Israel’s education system into the province of the orthodox. No less controversial was Ariel Sharon’s appointment to the Israeli Cabinet. Sharon had run against Likud in 1977, and his extremism had long caused concern among Likud party leaders.56 However, during his own campaign, Sharon had built ties with Gush Emunim, making him a favored minister among the religious Zionists. Perhaps most notably, when Dayan resigned as Foreign Minister in 1979 (for reasons discussed below), Begin named a Religious Zionist, Yosef Burg, to take his place. The move was strategic. Likud’s ongoing negotiations with Egypt were drawing serious fire, with Religious Zionists charging that Begin had no legitimate right to negotiate away any portion of the occupied territories. By appointing Burg, Begin renewed Likud’s commitment to Religious Zionism, and secured the support of these coalitions.57 These examples of Religious Zionist influence were not isolated; they indicated the broader mobilization of Religious Zionists within the Likud government. Each successive Likud government grew more right-wing, with even declared pragmatist leaders, such as Shamir, depending on ultranationalist and religious fundamentalist coalitions to support the legitimacy of their governments.58 As Likud used Religious Zionism to legitimate its claims, Religious Zionists mobilized and ultimately captured Likud. In sum, from 1967 to 1977, legitimation strategies mobilized Religious Zionist actors within each of the parties. This fundamentally changed Israeli political networks: once marginalized, religious Zionists were now tightly integrated within political networks. As a result, Religious Zionists would gain power that belied their relatively small numbers, restricting the range of legitimate compromises over territory, particularly over the status of Jerusalem. Polarization Finally, Religious Zionist legitimation strategies polarized Israel’s political structure, weakening and even eliminating ties with moderates in each party. Religious Zionist rhetoric polarized networks for two reasons. 56 57 58

Shindler 1995, 87; Weissbrod 1981, 536. Pollock 1982, 34–35. Shindler 1995, 261.

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First, it was dissonant: the religious rhetoric appeared illegitimate to much of the Israeli elite. It was one thing to seek territory for security, but holding territory for religious reasons was simply irrational.59 Second, once Religious Zionists were mobilized into Israeli political networks, they create the peripheral pulls described in Chapter 2. The Religious Zionists’ demands were incommensurable with moderate factions in Israeli politics. Faced with countervailing pressures, party leaders in Likud and Labor were forced to choose between moderates and Religious Zionists. They chose the latter, cutting ties with moderates in their parties, those actors who maintained that compromise – even over Jerusalem – was both possible and legitimate. Legitimation strategies polarized both Labor and Likud. Although Likud had always been a relatively rightist party, the party underwent a significant transformation in its composition from 1977 to 1980. When Likud came into power, moderates held significant positions within Begin’s government. Ezer Weizmann, nephew of Israel’s first president and a proponent of territorial compromise, was Likud’s Defense Minister. The Minister of Finance, Yoram Aridor, was considered a moderate. Most prominent among the moderates was Dayan, the former Labor member whom Begin had appointed Foreign Minister in 1977. Outside of the central party structure, Likud relied on other moderate parties to build their coalition government, most notably the centrist Democratic Movement for Change, a party that controlled both the Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Justice positions in Begin’s 1977 cabinet.60 Viewed from the left, Dayan, Weizmann, and others may not seem particularly moderate. Yet although these politicians would never advocate complete withdrawal from the territories, they believed some form of territorial compromise – either with the Arab states or with the Palestinians – to be not only necessary, but inevitable. For Likud’s moderates, Israel’s control of territory was a strategic and not a biblical issue.61 Even on the issue of Jerusalem, Likud’s moderates believed compromise might be necessary. Dayan might have used the rhetoric of Religious Zionism, yet he told Begin he would not join his government if Likud either annexed the occupied territories or claimed political control over the Temple Mount – Dayan’s division of sovereignty with the Muslim Waqf had to 59 60 61

Ibid., 67–72. Tessler 1986, 28; Freedman 1982, 29. Freedman 1982, 34–36.

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remain intact. Perhaps more strikingly, although Israel sought peace with Egypt, Dayan’s negotiating team (which included Weizmann) – argued that Jerusalem must be kept on the table.62 As Religious Zionists’ influence strengthened, so too did peripheral pulls increase. Attempts to accommodate Dayan and Weizmann provoked criticism from the right, and policies that satiated the Religious Zionists angered the moderates. The more Likud depended on Religious Zionism for its legitimacy, the more Begin and others conceded to this faction, even as this undermined moderate actors in his political party. These peripheral pulls were particularly evident during negotiations with Egypt. During these negotiations, Begin’s willingness to give Egypt back the Sinai became public, as did possible plans to give Palestinians living in the occupied territories some form of autonomy.63 Moderates – most notably Dayan and Weizmann – supported both the Camp David accords, as well as autonomy for the Palestinian population. They were not alone. Both the majority of the Israeli public and a majority in the Likud government believed the negotiations represented a positive advance in Israeli-Arab relations.64 But criticism from Religious Zionists was immediate. The NRP and Gush Emunim threatened to withdraw support, and a break-off party, the ultranationalist Tehiya, promised that it would outflank Begin and Likud on the issue of territorial commitment.65 Faced with peripheral pulls, Begin sacrificed moderates to gain support from Religious Zionists. He backtracked from his offer of Palestinian autonomy. Although he ceded the Sinai to Egypt, Begin allowed Religious Zionists to annex the Golan Heights in 1980, and promised continued settlement in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. Moderates denounced these proposals, and cut their ties with Likud. Dayan resigned as Foreign Minister in October 1979. In May 1980, Weizmann resigned as well. This was particularly significant; whereas Dayan had always been a party outsider, Weizmann was a central figure in Likud, and had long been considered Begin’s successor.66 The Democratic Movement for Change also cut ties with Likud, and by 1981 was fully marginalized from Israeli politics. Those moderates that did stay in the government now had little voice in matters. 62 63 64 65 66

Wasserstein 2002, 235. On the autonomy proposal see Shlaim 1994; Heller 1979. See e.g., Peleg 1987, 104. Isaac 1981, 150–60; Lustick 1988, 58; Yishai 1985. Gazit 2003, 220; Freedman 1982, 36.

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Labor also was subject to peripheral pulls, triggering a polarization process that pushed the party to the right. As Labor strengthened its ties with Religious Zionists, ideological disputes between Labor Party hawks and doves became insurmountable.67 The Religious Zionists’ power within the party disturbed Labor moderates; as one Labor dove remarked, “Some voices in the Labor Party are once again becoming louder in trying to outflank Begin on the right.”68 In December 1978, Religious Zionist influence convinced doves to take action. They called an emergency party meeting to discuss how they might limit Gush Emunim’s influence within the party. But the doves’ opposition was not effective. Labor elites saw themselves vulnerable to the Religious Zionists, and refused to concede to the doves’ demands.69 As a result, new hawkish voices continued to join Labor’s executive party, as the more moderate voices resigned. In sum, by 1980 “the forces of moderation had been dealt a mortal blow” and not just in Likud.70 By changing their legitimation strategies, both Labor and Likud fundamentally transformed their political environment, often in ways that were unintentional and unimaginable. Religious Zionism was strengthened beyond what its numbers would suggest, which allowed the coalition to greatly influence Israel’s territorial policy. Moreover, as Baruch Kimmerling argues, “the religious settler society movement’s penetration into the center of the sociopolitical sphere created the social and political conditions necessary for even more far-reaching changes.71 Gush Emunim’s rise influenced other groups, most notably the Mizrahim and Sephardic Jews, who were “newly empowered under the common ‘Judaic’ denominator.”72 These parties also proved capable of constraining Likud and Labor, forcing them to maintain uncompromising positions in the territories, most notably in Jerusalem. These changes in Israeli politics are of course only half of the story. Of equal importance is that similar processes were unfolding in Palestinian politics. From 1967 to the 1980s, the PLO – largely considered the legitimate representative of the Palestinian nation – had justified its pursuit of a Palestinian state in secular nationalist terms. However, in the 1980s, faced with growing political competition, the PLO and other Palestinian 67 68 69 70 71 72

Aronoff 1993, 178–80. Quoted in ibid., 179. Ibid.; see also Lustick 1993a, 418; Schnall 1985, 22; Drezon-Tepler 1990, 185–86. Aronoff 1985, 54. Kimmerling 2001, 110. Ibid., 111.

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elites began to merge religious and nationalist claims to territory. Like the Israeli case, this shift in legitimation strategies transformed Palestinian political structures, and created considerable constraints on the PLO’s ability to negotiate over Jerusalem.

the rebirth of palestinian national identity: the plo after the 1967 war Until 1967, the Palestinian nationalist movement lay largely dormant: “during the 1950s and early 1960s, there were few indications to outside observers of the existence of an independent Palestinian identity or of Palestinian nationalism.”73 Jordan ruled over a majority of Palestinians, yet refused to recognize them as a distinct nationality. Palestinians were given Jordanian citizenship, national symbols were banned, and “Palestinians who voiced support for an independent Palestinian polity feared for their lives and the well-being of their families.”74 Outside of Jordan, various Palestinian commando groups raided Israel’s borders; the most notorious among them was Arafat’s Fatah. These groups fought not for a distinct Palestinian state, however, but in the name of Pan-Arabism. Palestine’s liberation was tied to a unified Arab nation, not to an independent state – “Arab Unity is the road to the liberation of Palestine.”75 Even the Palestine Liberation Organization, established in 1964, was a tool of Pan-Arabism. Although the Palestinian National Covenant might have called for Palestine’s liberation, it made no mention of Palestine’s sovereignty.76 The Six Day War sounded Pan-Arabism’s death knell. With the Arab states weakened, Palestinians were left to define their own distinct identity, and pursue a program of Palestinian national sovereignty. Although several Palestinian nationalist institutions emerged both inside and outside of the occupied territories, it was the PLO that would come to be treated as the Palestine nation’s legitimate representative. By 1969, Arafat’s Fatah had gained control of the PLO, and this organization

73

74 75

76

Khalidi 1997, 178. For a general discussion of the rebirth or reemergence of Palestinian identity, see Al-Shuaibi 1980; Brand 1988; Gresh 1988; Heller 1980; Khalidi 1997; Kimmerling and Migdal 2003; Quandt 1973. Friedland and Hecht 1996, 249. Quoted in Cobban 1984, 24. For a discussion of pan-Arabism and the PLO, see e.g., Brand 1988; Gresh 1988, 18–23; Khalidi 1997, 148–49; Kimmerling and Migdal 2003, 78–79. Friedland and Hecht 1996, 246–251; Gresh 1988, 21–22.

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would, until 1987, remain the unchallenged voice of the Palestinian nation. Fatah and the PLO, 1967–1980 The PLO has never been a coherent organization. It is rather an umbrella movement, a network of Palestinian nationalist actors with wide-ranging, even opposed interests.77 Although Fatah ostensibly controls the PLO, it has never integrated or unified it. As Helena Cobban notes, within the PLO “the vertical political links existing in most conventional, pyramidstructure party organizations were always weak, or even in the view of some virtually non-existent. . . . ”78 From 1967 until 1984, Fatah’s power was challenged by coalitions in the PLO, such as George Habash’s leftist Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) and the Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine (DFLP), led by Nayif Hawatma, as well as by several other splinter parties. With its fragmented structure, it is not surprising that the PLO appeared to vacillate widely in its goals. Throughout the 1970s, the PLO was committed to a program of armed struggle. Armed struggle was not only a means to gain a Palestinian state. Acts of violence were intricately tied to the PLO’s socialist program and its philosophy about decolonization. Habash argued, for example, that “Our law is revolution”; thus “terrorism was not only a strategy to achieve victory . . . it was also intended as revenge for Palestinian suffering.”79 Between 1969 and 1985 alone, “PLO groups committed over 8000 terrorist acts – mostly in Israel but at least 435 abroad – and killed more than 650 Israelis, over three-quarters of them civilians, and hundreds of people from other countries.”80 As a result, Israel, as well as the United States and European countries, considered the PLO a terrorist organization. At the same time, the PLO at times signaled that it would be willing to negotiate with Israel for a Palestinian state and a permanent settlement.81 At the Twelfth Palestinian National Convention in 1974, Fatah pushed

77

78 79 80 81

Kimmerling and Migdal 2003, 244–45; Quandt 1973, 106; Cobban 1984, 23–34; Gresh 1988, 184–88; Rubin 1994; Hassassian 1997, 77; Mishal and Sela 2000; Klein 1993. Cobban 1984, 25. Quoted in Rubin 1994, 29. Rubin 1994, 25. See also Migdal and Kimmerling 2003; Gresh 1988. Cobban 1984, especially 250–52; Friedland and Hecht 1996, 264; 366; Gresh 1988, 150–205; Migdal and Kimmerling 2003; Klein 1993; Pappe 2004, 218; Quandt 1973, 105.

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the PLO to revise its charter to include a program of stages. The first stage required the immediate creation of a Palestinian state in the West Bank and Gaza Strip: “The PLO will struggle by every means – the foremost of which is armed struggle – to liberate Palestinian land and to establish the people’s national, independent and fighting authority on every part of Palestinian land that is liberated.”82 This PLO platform was not entirely compromising. An independent state, in theory, was not a stopping point; it would serve as a springboard for the long-term liberation of the entirety of Palestine, and the eventual destruction of the Israeli state. In practice, PLO officials began to indicate that this intermediate stage of a Palestinian state was in fact a permanent solution.83 More broadly, the language of the Twelfth PNC signaled that armed struggle was now only part of the PLO’s program, and that the PLO was ready “to accept diplomatic activities, rather than focus exclusively on armed struggle.”84 From 1967 onward, Fatah developed a plan for a Palestinian state that demanded sovereignty over part of the occupied territories. Legitimating these goals at home and abroad was not easy. In the face of myriad political pressures, Fatah’s legitimation strategies took on two characteristics. First, Fatah’s legitimation strategies were strategically ambiguous. They attempted to appear extremely militant to their domestic audience (particularly other coalitions within the PLO), and at the same time sound compromising to the international community and Israel. Fatah was walking a political tightrope. On the one hand, if Fatah appeared too ready to compromise with Israel, the more extremist groups were likely to defect. Indeed, as a direct result of the Twelfth PNC program, the PFLP and DFLP abandoned the PLO in protest of Fatah’s more moderate position. (They would return in 1977.) On the other hand, if the PLO refused to abandon its armed struggle, then it would lose international support for a Palestinian state.85 To overcome these pressures, Fatah adopted ambiguous language that “could be interpreted differently for disparate audiences and

82

83 84 85

For the text, see The Palestinian-Israeli peace agreement : a documentary record (1993), 208. For a discussion see Gresh 1988, 168; Sela and Ma’oz 1997; Tessler 1994, 483. Gresh 1988, 168; Sela and Ma’oz 1997; Tessler 1994, 483. Muslih 1997, 40. On increased pressure from Western Europe, the Soviet Union, and the United States see e.g., Cobban 1984; Rubin 1994, 51; Kirisci 1986, 106. On militant threats to reject Fatah’s position, see Quandt 1973, 106, 142; Cobban 1984, 252; Rubin 1994, 57; Hassassian, 77.

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occasions.”86 For example, as Gresh and others have argued, the phrase “liberation of Palestine,” so central to early pronouncements, was changed in 1974 to “liberation of Palestinian land,” a phrase which can mean “two different things: from the Palestinian point of view, the whole of Palestine; from the point of view of international legality, the territories of the West Bank and Gaza.”87 To the Western powers and Israel, Fatah stressed the latter interpretation. To prevent the defection of more extremist groups – most notably the PFLP – Fatah encouraged the former interpretation, using militant often anti-Semitic rhetoric to back up its claims. Fatah also would modify its rhetoric to suit the audience. To its PLO coalitions, Fatah promised its program of stages was the beginning of Israel’s destruction: “An independent state on the West Bank and Gaza is the beginning of the final solution. That solution is to establish a democratic state in the whole of Palestine.”88 At the same time, Fatah published numerous articles on the program of stages designed for Western consumption. An article in the Times in 1973, for example, argued “a Palestinian state on the Gaza Strip and the West Bank . . . is a necessary part of any peace package.” The Palestinians “are well aware of the fact that a state in partnership can be constructed only if and when the two parties genuinely want it and are ready to work for it . . . The Israeli Jews and the Palestinian Arabs should recognize one another as peoples, with all the rights to which a people is entitled.”89 To ensure that the audiences were hearing the right message, Fatah used the cover of language. As Rubin argues, “One useful technique was to make harder-line statements in Arabic, almost always ignored by the Western news media, and more temperate ones in English.”90 A second characteristic of Fatah’s legitimation strategies is that they were largely secular. Fatah relied on nationalist, not religious language in pursuing its claims to a Palestinian state. Although there were intermittent appeals to Islamic symbols, the PLO’s core documents and rhetoric were decidedly secular. The charter, for example, avoided religious claims to Palestine. The PLO was not representing the Muslims in a fight against Jews; they were a Palestinian nationalist group struggling against

86 87 88 89 90

Rubin 1994, 102. Gresh 1988, 168. See also Tessler 1986, 483. Quoted in Rubin 1994, 47. “Making the first move towards peace in Palestine,” Times, December 17, 1973, 14. Rubin 1994, 101; See also Quandt 1973, 284.

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imperialist Zionists.91 The use of secular rhetoric is not surprising. If there is one thing that unified the PLO, it was that it was a secular organization; if anything, its socialist leanings mitigated against religious rhetoric. What is interesting is that this absence of religious rhetoric applied even when Fatah addressed the subject of Jerusalem. Fatah made no official statement about the city until 1979. When Palestinian elites did comment on Jerusalem, as Walid Khalidi did in the July 1978 issue of Foreign Affairs, they carefully avoided making religious claims to the city. As Khalidi argued, “There is no monopoly in history or common sense for any of the three great monotheistic faiths over the fate and future of Jerusalem.” Only a division of Jerusalem that recognized mutual sovereignty could “capture the imagination of the world and stamp out for all time the ugly embers of holy wars. Only by some such solution would Jews, Christians and Muslims translate their veneration of Jerusalem from rhetoric to the idiom of accommodation and love.”92 Thus to maintain unity and advance its strategic position, Fatah employed secular, strategically ambiguous legitimation strategies, ones that allowed it to advance its program of an independent state in part of Palestine without alienating its domestic coalitions. Persuading both militant factions, the United States, and Israel that their interests were being met was no easy task. Fatah’s militant language often signaled to Israel that no negotiation was possible, although at the same time its compromising language created further fissures between itself and the PFLP. Nevertheless, throughout the 1970s, Fatah’s legitimation strategies led to some striking advances. Western European states became more sympathetic to the PLO’s demands, and in 1974 both France and Sweden established official contacts with the PLO.93 In 1974, Arafat was invited to speak to the United Nations’ General Assembly, and shortly thereafter, the PLO was granted observership status.94 On December 14, 1988, U.S. Secretary of State George Shultz announced that, given the PLO’s moderation, the United States was “prepared for a substantive dialogue with

91

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93 94

Wasserstein 2002, 239, 250; Kimmerling and Migdal 2003, 272; Quandt 1973, 98–100; Gresh 1988, 50; Rubin 1994, 147; Steinberg 1987; Khalidi 1997, 149; Milton-Edwards 1996, 193–94; Tessler 1994, 346. Khalidi 1978, 705–7. For a discussion of Khalidi’s article, see Wasserstein 2002, 250– 52. As Wasserstein argues, although Khalidi’s statements were not official PLO policy, they reflected Fatah’s own thinking on a Jerusalem settlement. Kirisci 1986, 106; and Rabie, 56. Kirisci 1986, 134.

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PLO representatives.”95 By 1993, Israel itself had recognized the PLO as the legitimate representative of the Palestinian nation. Despite these successes, however, in the 1980s Fatah and other Palestinian elites decided to change their legitimation strategies. The secular, ambiguous language of the 1970s was abandoned; in its place Palestinians now appealed to religious symbols to justify their claims to the territories. From Secular to Religious Claims: The Intifada and the Change in Legitimation Strategies What explains this shift to a religious nationalist legitimation strategy? To an extent, the Palestinian change reflected broader processes in the Middle East, particularly the spread of Islamic politics that followed the Iranian Revolution in 1979. Likewise, the decline of the Soviet Union in the late 1980s weakened the PLO’s socialist legitimation strategies. But local politics explain much of this shift in rhetoric. In the early 1980s, Fatah was facing intense political competition, both from inside and outside the PLO. Expelled from Lebanon in 1982, Fatah lacked a territorial base for its activities. Moreover, the PLO fractured over how to rebuild after Lebanon, and Fatah found itself under attack from the PLO’s extreme parties. So weak was the PLO that by the mid-1980s analysts were predicting the PLO was in its death throes.96 Adding to its problems, Fatah faced increasing competition within the Palestinian territories as well. Since the 1950s, the Muslim Brotherhood had flourished within the West Bank and Gaza Strip and by 1987 had constructed a wide array of social and cultural institutions throughout the territories.97 The Brotherhood built an extensive network of mosques, which demanded Palestinians adhere to Islamic codes of behavior: forbidding alcohol, smoking, and calling for more modest dress among women. As a result of the Muslim Brotherhood’s activities, from 1967 to 1987, the number of mosques in the West Bank nearly doubled from 400 to 750; in the Gaza Strip, the number increased threefold, from 200 to 600.98 Along

95 96 97

98

Rabie, 66. See for example Gresh 1988, 234–47. Unlike nationalist organizations, whose activities were suppressed by Jordanian and Israeli governments alike, Islamic institutions were allowed and even encouraged to flourish. Jordan, for one, tolerated Brotherhood activities to “counterbalance nationalist and leftist trends that acquired increasing influence in both the East and West Banks.” (Hroub 2000, 20). Abu Amr 1994, 15.

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with these explicitly religious institutions, the Muslim Brotherhood constructed social organizations as well, such as “student societies, clubs, and charitable organizations.”99 The Muslim Brotherhood was not a nationalist organization, but a religious one. The Brotherhood did not seek a distinct, sovereign Palestinian nation. If the Palestinians were to have an independent state, then this would undermine the very notion of a unified Islamic entity.100 Until 1987, the Muslim Brotherhood also rejected the use of armed struggle; there was no rhetoric of “jihad” or any form of armed resistance against the Israeli occupation. The Brotherhood instead argued that “violent resistance against the Jews was forbidden.”101 Resistance to Israel could only be affected through an Islamization of Palestinian society. With its antinationalist program, the Muslim Brotherhood could not challenge Fatah’s political position directly. Fatah’s position as the Palestinian representative, however, was unacceptable. The Brotherhood condemned the PLO as a secular organization, one that “does not serve God.” As the Brotherhood argued, “The Palestinian factions are founded on principles that are contradictory and controversial, and some of them are clearly based on leftist or rightist ideas that are inimical to Islam. Some factions declare that they want a secular state in Palestine. This inconsistency has caused woes, disasters and tribulations.” If the Brotherhood were to recognize the PLO, it must abandon its secular nationalist position, and “unify their ranks under the banner of Islam and adopt the Islamic solution for their cause.”102 The Muslim Brotherhood publicly opposed the PLO’s willingness to partition Palestine. The Muslim Brotherhood had always derided the state of Israel, proclaiming that “the dirtiest and meanest of all races are defiling the most sanctified and honored spot on earth, a spot to which 99

100

101 102

Hroub 2000, 31. The Muslim Brotherhood placed special emphasis on education. At the primary level, the organization founded preschools and elementary schools throughout the territories. It also sought control of education at the university level, urging Islamic student groups to run against nationalist opponents in student councils. So successful was the Muslim Brotherhood that by 1978 it had founded its own institution, the Islamic University in Gaza, where the majority of students and faculties supported its activities. Milton-Edwards 1996, 193–96; Abu Amr 1994, 28; Milton-Edwards 1992; Mishal 2000, 31–42. Some members of the Muslim Brotherhood believed this was a problem. The Intifada made the need for a political program even more pressing. If the Brotherhood could not speak or contribute to the mass movement, then it was likely to become an irrelevant force in the territories. Friedland and Hecht 1996, 359. Quoted in Abu Amr 1994, 29.

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Allah sent a herald angel, and where the Prophet Muhammad made his midnight journey.”103 Fatah’s willingness to compromise was nothing less than blasphemy. As declared by one member of the Brotherhood, from an Islamic point of view “the abandonment or conceding of one inch of territory would be treason. To allow an alien entity to share our land would be even more serious than treason” and thus the PLO “ must boycott all attempts to surrender to the Jews.”104 It was this increasing competition between Fatah, its extremist competitors, and the Brotherhood that forced these elites to change their legitimation strategies. Whereas the PLO adopted religious symbols to justify its nationalist program, members of the Brotherhood turned to nationalist symbols in pursuing their religious claims.105 Whereas Fatah’s rhetoric in the 1970s was decidedly secular, religious language now permeated everyday politics. At the 1984 convention, Fatah drew unprecedented attention to its Qur’anic roots, hanging a banner with the verse from which Fatah had taken its name (nasr min allah wa-fath qarib, “succor from God and conquest soon at hand”).106 As Friedland and Hecht remark, all PLO communiqu´es began to carry Islamic passages, and Arafat himself went out of his way to invoke religious overtones (his decision to name a wing of his personal security force the “Trusters in God’s Victory” garnered particular attention).107 Most notably, Fatah increasingly justified demands for a Palestinian state with religious symbols. As argued by Hillel Frisch, Arafat’s religious references were “part of a nationalist message and destiny,” and were specifically chosen (and often altered) to paint a “nationalist epic of liberation.”108 In 1988, for instance, the PLO issued The Palestinian Declaration of Independence, which declared that an independent state existed in the territory of Palestine.109 The document invoked the divine right of the Qu’ran: “Say: Oh God, owner of the Kingdom. Thou givest the kingdom to whom Thou pleasest and takest away the kingdom from whom Though pleasest.”110 103 104 105

106 107 108 109

110

Quoted in ibid., 26. Ibid., 29–30. Abu Amr 1994, 47–50, 108–19; Friedland and Hecht 1996, 366–69; Kimmerling and Migdal 2003, 272, 304–7; Pappe 2004, 248–49; Steinberg 1987. Friedland and Hecht 1996, 366. Ibid. Frisch 2005, 327, 322. Given the PLO controlled no territory at the time, this was not recognized as a true declaration of independence, but rather a symbolic act. Quoted in Abu Amr 1994, 48.

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As religious rhetoric became more prevalent, Jerusalem also moved to the center of Fatah’s rhetoric: Return to Jerusalem or return to the mosque became the metaphor for Palestinian liberation. As Arafat exclaimed: Can I not say that I see at the end of the tunnel the walls of Jerusalem, the towers of mosques of Jerusalem and the churches of Jerusalem . . . Lo and Behold, you and I see the walls of Jerusalem the towers of the mosques of Jerusalem and the churches of Jerusalem, ‘We see it from afar we see it nigh.’111

So too did the declaration of independence reflect this newfound focus on Jerusalem. It begins with “The national Council declares, in the name of God, and in the name of the Arab Palestinian people the establishment of the state of Palestine on our Palestinian territory, with its capital, Holy Jerusalem.”112 Evidence suggests that Fatah members remained secular, even suspicious of religious factions in the Palestinian territories. Despite their secular beliefs, political competition convinced Arafat and other Fatah members to use Islamic rhetoric frequently, far more than his nationalist counterparts in Syria or in Egypt.113 Political competition did not only affect Fatah. It forced others, particularly the Muslim Brotherhood, to change their legitimation strategies as well. By 1987, members of the Muslim Brotherhood were growing increasingly concerned about Fatah’s use of religious rhetoric. As Fatah’s language grew more religious, activists within the Muslim Brotherhood – including Sheik Ahmed Yassin, one of Hamas’ founders – argued that the religious organization must adopt a program of national liberation for Palestine. Without a political program, the Brotherhood could not hope to appeal to the large nationalist base within the West Bank and Gaza. Moreover, with Fatah’s turn to religious-nationalist language, the Brotherhood was losing support from its traditional base as well.114 If the Brotherhood were to compete with Fatah, it must “instill in the minds of Muslim generations that the Palestinian cause is a religious cause.”115 In sum, Palestinian elites in Fatah and the Muslim Brotherhood turned to a combination of religious and nationalist rhetoric as a means of domestic outbidding, an attempt to prove to their respective audiences 111 112

113 114 115

Quoted in Frisch 2005, 333. Palestine National Council Declaration of Independence, November 15, 1988. At http://mondediplo.com/focus/mideast/alger88-en. Accessed May 28, 2009. Frisch 2005, 326. Budeiri 1995, 93; Budeiri 1997, 205. Hamas Charter, Article 15.

Jerusalem, Indivisible Palestinian politics, 1967–1980

187 Palestinian politics, 1987–2000

Muslim Brotherhood

Muslim Brotherhood

Fatah

Fatah

PFLP

DFLP

HAMAS PFLP/DFLP

Other PLO Factions

figure 6.2. Network changes in Palestinian politics, 1967–2000.

the legitimacy of their position. Despite the similarities between their claims, Fatah and the Muslim Brotherhood believed there was little overlap between their organizations. Fatah continued to see the Muslim Brotherhood as overly zealous and extreme, and most of the Muslim Brotherhood remained opposed to an independent Palestinian state. Despite these doubts, this shift in legitimation strategies would have measurable structural consequences in Palestinian politics. They created new actors, mobilized coalitions, and polarized Palestinian networks. In the process, legitimation strategies altered what was considered negotiable in Palestinian politics, including the status of Jerusalem.

Yoking First, the shift to religious-nationalist legitimation strategies had a yoking effect, combining what were once actors in discrete networks into a new coherent identity. Before the 1980s, Fatah’s secular rhetoric and the Muslim Brotherhood’s religious rhetoric had reinforced the boundaries between the nationalist and Islamic movements. Now, by combining religious and nationalist symbols, their legitimation strategies provided a new focal point around which these movements could coalesce. This religious-nationalist identity was most clearly embodied in the Palestinian Islamic Nationalist Movement, Hamas, founded in December 1987.116 116

Almost a year later, in August 1988, the movement circulated its official charter to the Palestinian public. On the development of Hamas, see e.g., Milton-Edwards 1996; Mishal 2000; Abu Amr 1994; Hroub 2000; Milton-Edwards 1992.

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Hamas has often been labeled an offshoot of the Muslim Brotherhood.117 This is somewhat misstated; whereas Hamas’s founding members came from the Brotherhood, both its ideology and membership cut across secular and religious identities, yoking them together in a single entity. Ideologically, reducing Hamas to an arm of the Brotherhood misses how this group radically departed from the Brotherhood’s mission. For the Muslim Brotherhood, a distinct Palestinian state inherently undermined their program of a unified Islamic entity.118 In contrast, Hamas charged that an independent Palestine, with control over Jerusalem, was central to Islam: “nationalism from the point of view of the Islamic resistance movement is part and parcel of religious ideology.”119 Unlike the Muslim Brotherhood, Hamas argued that it was necessary “to secure the legitimate and natural rights of the Palestinian people by ensuring them safe and peaceful existence on the land of Palestine.”120 Hamas’s status as a yoked identity is also apparent in its membership. The membership profile of Hamas and the Brotherhood were radically different. Whereas the Brotherhood continued to attract an older, conservative religious membership, Hamas’s membership included “street activists, youthful nationalists disenchanted” with the PLO.121 Hamas’s membership cut across religious and secular boundaries in a way Fatah and the Brotherhood never managed. As Musa Budeiri argues, “some observers have gone so far as to comment on the non-Islamic character of those attracted to [Hamas].”122 Whereas the PLO and the Muslim Brotherhood’s membership reflected the deep divisions between secular and religious Palestinians, Hamas attracted both religious and secular nationalists to its fold. What explains this yoking effect? This was not the first time religious leaders had attempted to appeal to a nationalist following. Islamic Jihad, for example, had surfaced in Palestinian politics largely in response to Iran’s 1979 religious-nationalist revolution.123 Despite their efforts, Islamic Jihad failed to attract a secular nationalist audience. Nor

117

118

119 120 121 122 123

Friedland and Hecht 1996; Milton-Edwards 1996; Mishal 2000; Hroub 2000; MiltonEdwards 1992. Milton-Edwards 1996, 193–96; Abu Amr 1994, 28; Milton-Edwards 1992; Mishal 2000, 31–42. Hamas Charter, article 12. Abu Amr 1994, 66. Budieri 1995, 92. Ibid., 93. Friedland and Hecht 1996, 370–72; Milton-Edwards 1996, 198–208.

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was Hamas’s emergence in Fatah’s interest. Although Fatah hoped to attract Islamic institutions, its members had no interest in creating an autonomous, competitive actor in Palestinian politics. Legitimation strategies created the necessary conditions for Hamas to emerge for two reasons. First, the legitimation strategy was a cultural invention. This was not the first time actors used religious symbols for nationalist ends; the last chapter noted that Islamic symbols mobilized the Palestinian movement as early as 1920. What differed here is that religion was not simply a tool of nationalism, or vice versa. To pursue a Palestinian state was to engage in a religious project, and likewise, to follow Islam meant that one must support a Palestinian state. This meant that even the most secular of Fatah members could respond to Hamas’s calls. As one member put it, “they cannot fail to appeal to me, because I am a Muslim, if not by spiritual choice then by the very nature of my Palestinian culture, my socialisation, my struggle.”124 Whereas secular Palestinians could not respond to the Brotherhood’s religious appeals, they could switch their allegiance to Hamas “without experiencing any existential break with their past.”125 Second, the Palestinian elites who now used this religious-nationalist rhetoric were identity bridges, with ties to both religious and secular actors in Palestinian politics. Although his own beliefs were largely secular, Arafat had longstanding ties with religious organizations, including the Muslim Brotherhood. Indeed, as his religious rhetoric increased, Arafat took great pains to tout his own religious heritage.126 The Brotherhood members who articulated a nationalist agenda also held bridging positions. While Yassin sat at the head of one of the several Islamic Centers in the Gaza Strip, he had also built ties with Arafat and other leaders of the PLO. He could credibly claim to have engaged in nationalist activity; unlike his Muslim Brotherhood colleagues who eschewed violent action, Yassin had been arrested for his resistance activities in the occupied territories. With authoritative speakers using this inventive content, these religious-nationalist legitimation strategies cut across secular and sectarian networks, allowing the two to coalesce into a new Palestinian identity. In doing so, Hamas would emerge as the first real challenger to Fatah’s

124 125 126

Quoted in Milton-Edwards 1996, 4. Tamari 1995, 11. Friedland and Hecht 1996, 352–54; Abu Amr 1994, 47; Steinberg 1987, 40–41; Mishal 2000, 100.

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legitimacy.127 Although its charter proclaimed kinship with the PLO, and declared Fatah as “fathers, brothers, relatives, and friends,” Hamas overtly questioned the PLO’s position as the legitimate spokesman of the Palestinian nation. By 1990, Hamas was publishing brochures claiming that it, not Fatah, was “the sole legitimate representative of the Palestinian people.”128 Over time, Hamas would work not only to undermine Arafat’s domestic position, but also to constrain Fatah’s ability to bargain with Israel. According to Hamas’s charter, neither negotiations with Israel nor Palestine’s partition were legitimate goals. Any negotiation – such as the signing of the Declaration of Principles in 1993, was decried as unjust: “We consider this to be a great historic act of treason and a dangerous one which will begin the dissolution of this leadership which has sold the struggle, sold the blood, and sold the rights of the Palestinian people.”129 Hamas would prove to be a formidable opponent in Palestinian politics. Competition between Fatah and Hamas has been fierce, and for decades has spawned violent confrontations in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. Until 2006, Hamas refused to run as a party for positions in the Palestinian Authority (PA). When it did enter electoral politics in January 2006, Hamas won 76 out of 132 seats in Palestinian parliamentary elections, capturing a majority in the Palestinian government. Hamas’s challenge to the PLO’s legitimacy has not only been external, coming outside the government, however. In the 1990s, Hamas proved capable of mobilizing within the Palestinian Authority. It also forced Fatah to sever its ties with moderates who were key to negotiations with Israel. As a result, Hamas would decrease the chance for compromise in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Coalition Mobilization and Polarization Fatah’s use of religious-nationalist rhetoric both mobilized and polarized Palestinian political networks. First, because religious-nationalist rhetoric proved resonant, Fatah now found itself incorporating Hamas into the Palestinian Authority. For most of its political life, Hamas worked outside

127

128 129

Friedland and Hecht 1996, 372–74; Kimmerling and Migdal 2003, 86; Milton-Edwards 1996; Abu Amr 1994, 89; Milton-Edwards 1992; Klein 1996; Mishal 2003; Sayigh 1989; Zahhar and Hijazi 1995. Klein 1996. Quoted in Kimmerling and Migdal 2003, 369.

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of the PLO and the Palestinian Authority, preferring to remain unaffiliated with official government institutions. Even before the 2006 elections, however, Hamas mobilized into the structure of the Palestinian Authority.130 Despite their competitive relationship, as Menachem Klein and others have argued, throughout the 1990s Hamas and the PLO built a web of competing relations: although officially working in opposition to Fatah, Hamas and the PLO built a firm network of ties between their organizations. It refused to participate in the Palestinian Authority as an official party – and thus legitimate the Palestinian government – but Hamas encouraged its individual members to run for office, as well as to accept administrative appointments in significant legislative, judicial, and educational institutions. The 2006 elections might have been dramatic, but they were hardly a sea change. By the late 1990s, Hamas had successfully, if unofficially, mobilized within the government structure. Hamas’s mobilization was hardly in Fatah’s interest. Although Fatah had initially hoped to capture the Islamic movement for its own ends, by the 1990s Arafat feared that Hamas was capable of undermining Fatah’s position as the legitimate voice of the Palestinian nation. Beginning in the early 1990s, Fatah tried to actively block Hamas’s access to government power. In 1992, for example, Hamas offered to join the PLO, but only if Fatah would give Hamas 40 percent of the governing seats; Fatah refused to accommodate Hamas’s demands.131 Yet the more Fatah relied on Islamic nationalist rhetoric, the less the party could deny Hamas’s participation in the Palestinian Authority. As Kimmerling and Joel Migdal argue, Arafat faced a serious danger in confronting Hamas. With Fatah’s own appeals to religious rhetoric, any direct attack on Hamas threatened to undermine the party’s legitimacy.132 Even as competition between Hamas and Fatah intensified, Fatah was forced to make conciliatory gestures to its opponents. In private, Fatah continued to offer Hamas seats in the PLO as well as the Palestinian Authority. Publicly, Arafat was compelled to honor Hamas’s contributions to the nationalist effort, even if this dampened support for Fatah.133 130 131

132 133

Klein 1996. See also Mishal 2000, 113–46; Hroub 2000, 94–109; Mishal 2003. On the competition between Hamas and the PLO, see Friedland and Hecht 1996, 372– 84; Kimmerling and Migdal 2003; Steinberg 1987; Milton-Edwards 1996, 144–80; Mishal 2000, 83–112; Abu Amr 1994, 108–16; Hroub 2000, 88–102; Milton-Edwards 1992; Klein 1996; Mishal 2003; Zahhar and Hijazi 1995. Kimmerling and Migdal 2003, 373. See also Rubin 1994, 166; Hroub 2000, 98–101. Hroub 2000, 93; Klein 1996; Friedland and Hecht 1996, 487.

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Moreover, as Hamas mobilized within Palestinian networks, Fatah also found that its rhetoric polarized its own party. As Hamas’s position strengthened, relatively moderate actors – in particular, the secular elite within the PLO – were marginalized and even eliminated from the Palestinian Authority. In the 1980s and early 1990s, there was growing faith in a Palestinian moderate elite, a group “made up of middle-class technocrats, intellectuals, academics, West Bank officials and professionals and representing the interests of the 1.7 million Palestinians under Israeli occupation.”134 Faith in these moderates was not misplaced; they were not only vocal in their support of compromise, but these moderates occupied critical positions in the PLO, positions that gave them power to pursue negotiations. Abu Mazen (Mahmoud Abbas, who would later become president of the Palestinian Authority) served as Arafat’s deputy and strongly advocated for negotiations with Israel, as well as a partition of Palestine. Faisal Husseini, who dominated the local PLO in Jerusalem and subsequently accepted a position in the nascent Palestinian Authority in 1994, was a firm proponent of negotiations as well. In 1987, Husseini, then head of the Arab Studies Society in Jerusalem, issued a document calling for a two-state solution, as well as “formation of an interim government which would proclaim, on behalf of the PLO, a readiness to negotiate a final settlement with Israel, including agreed-upon boundaries between the two states.”135 Other local leaders – including Sari Nusseibeh and Hanan Ashwari – made a compelling case for the Palestinian cause to international actors.136 It was not simply that these actors held moderate views (and of course their views were hardly homogenous). Although deeply integrated in the PLO and PA, many of these actors had also constructed ties with the Israelis. As early as the 1970s, Abbas initiated contacts with pacifist groups in Israel, and in the 1990s he served as a primary negotiator in the talks that led to the Declaration of Principles. Husseini, too, built contacts in Israel; he learned Hebrew and even sought ties with Likud politicians. By the 1990s, Husseini was meeting regularly with Knesset officials – named Force 34 to reflect their numbers – who wanted to prove that negotiations with the PLO were possible. So strong were these 134

135 136

“The Middle East Talks: Palestinians Look to Modest Goals at Madrid Talks,” New York Times, October 28, 1991. Tessler 1994, 720. On the role of moderates, see Friedland and Hecht 1996, 419–33; Wasserstein 2002; Nakhleh 1989; Sahliyeh 1986.

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contacts, in fact, that Husseini was perceived as a bridging actor, capable of speaking to both Palestinian nationalists and Israeli politicians about a peace settlement.137 The structure of Palestinian politics in the 1980s and early 1990s thus contained key actors who believed negotiations to be legitimate. But as legitimation strategies shifted, so too were Palestinian political networks transformed, so much so that over time moderates found themselves on the margins of Palestinian politics. Religious-nationalist rhetoric was dissonant to moderates. As Barry Rubin writes, Islamic ideology divided the PLO leaders; the secular elite generally “feared and hated Islamic fundamentalists.”138 Moreover, as Hamas strengthened, peripheral pulls within the PLO intensified. During the 1990s, Palestinian secularists came under sustained attack from Hamas operatives both inside and outside the Palestinian Authority. At times these attacks were direct, challenging the very legitimacy of moderate actors within the organization. With Hamas’s ties strengthened within the Palestinian Authority, and its external opposition proving effective, Arafat felt compelled to satiate the Islamic group even if this meant severing ties with the secular elite. From the late 1990s through the present day, ties with moderates were marginalized or severed. After a protracted struggle with Arafat, Abbas left Fatah in protest in 2003. Although he currently holds the presidency of the Palestinian Authority, Hamas’s power has largely left him on the sidelines. Husseini died a natural death in 2001, but not before warning Israel that it would soon face a choice “between Orient House and Hamas.”139 With moderates resigning, and Hamas gaining strength in Palestinian politics, Husseini warned there would be no one left with whom to negotiate. Overall, by 2000, moderates within the PLO were extremely weak, and were a marginal element in Palestinian politics. The evidence shown previously demonstrates that, from 1967 to 1987, religious nationalists gained a strong foothold in both Israeli and Palestinian politics. Because politicians on both sides came to rely on religiousnationalist rhetoric to legitimate their territorial claims, these factions exerted more power over policy than their small numbers would suggest. These insights are not particularly controversial. Several scholars have noted the role of Religious Zionists in perpetuating the settlers’ movement

137

138 139

On Husseini as a bridging actor, see Friedland and Hecht 1996, 419–33; Wasserstein 2002, 261; Klein 2003, 30–31; Rabinovich 2004, 52. Rubin 1994, 147, 162. Orient House refers to the PLO headquarters in East Jerusalem.

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in Israel, even when the Israeli public largely opposed settlements in the West Bank and Gaza Strip.140 There is little doubt that Hamas’s increased influence in Palestinian politics undercut the peace process.141 What is less studied is how these political changes have affected bargaining over Jerusalem. The reason for this is simple: many scholars argue that Jerusalem’s value transcends politics, and that there is a consensus among Israelis and Palestinians alike that Jerusalem is nonnegotiable. Seventy-eight percent of Israelis oppose any negotiation over Jerusalem; eighty-two percent of Palestinians are opposed to any compromise over the Holy City.142 Although strengthening religious factions might have undermined compromise over other territorial issues – the Golan Heights or settlements in the West Bank, for example – it has had no effect on Jerusalem’s status. Jerusalem is inherently indivisible. When these numbers are examined, however, there seems to be less consensus on Jerusalem’s indivisibility than is often portrayed. For example, in the same survey, Israelis appeared willing, if not eager, to give Palestinians sovereignty over Arab neighborhoods. This is extremely significant, as one of the major proposals to divide Jerusalem involves ceding Palestinian neighborhoods within Jerusalem. Israelis also seemed willing to recognize Palestinian claims to holy spaces.143 Palestinians, likewise, are prepared to concede Jewish neighborhoods, to share holy sites, and even to recognize “a compromise on Jerusalem is the right thing to do because Israelis also have deep historical and religious attachments to Jerusalem.”144 Public opinion is thus more flexible than is often portrayed – the indivisibility of Jerusalem changes depending on how division is defined. This has led scholars such as Klein to argue that had Israeli and Palestinian politicians framed the debate over Jerusalem differently, they might have swayed a plurality if not a majority to accept a divided Jerusalem.145 If public opinion was not the overriding constraint, why were politicians unable to reach a settlement over Jerusalem, either during the 1990s or during the peace talks in 2000? It was extremists on both sides who

140 141 142 143

144 145

See e.g., Gorenberg 2006; Newman 1985. E.g., Herzog 2006. Segal 2000, 6, 37. As Segal et al. note, Israelis do not consider all areas of Jerusalem as equally important. Forty percent of Israeli Jews, for example, judge non-Jewish quarters of the Old City as not so important. Segal 2000, 7. Ibid., 37. Klein 2003, 133. See also Wasserstein 2002, 355.

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prevented a division of Jerusalem. These religious nationalists groups exert power not through their electoral numbers, but by attacking the legitimacy of those willing to negotiate over the Holy City. There are three ways in which religious nationalists have prevented a compromise. First, they have used their power to create legal and political obstacles to dividing Jerusalem. As a result, neither Israeli nor Palestinian elites have been willing to compromise over the city, for fear of undermining their legitimacy. Second, religious nationalists have expanded the geographic boundaries of the city. Palestinian and Israeli legitimation strategies have effectively empowered coalitions who are unwilling to cede any part of Jerusalem’s territory – even those areas peripheral to sacred sites. Because of this, these extremist coalitions have altered the scope of territorial claims, leaving no room for compromise. Third, legitimation strategies have changed the relationship between political and religious sovereignty in the city. Through most of Jerusalem’s contemporary history, religious, and political claims have been treated as distinct; one could claim political sovereignty over Jerusalem, as Israel did in 1967, yet still allow religious groups to maintain control of the holy sites. In contrast, by the Camp David negotiations in 2000, religious and political sovereignty appeared inseparable, with Palestinians and Israelis both demanding exclusive political control over Jerusalem’s most sacred spaces. Political and Legal Obstacles Israeli and Palestinian elites face formidable constraints in dividing Jerusalem. In Israel, politicians seem universally bound to defend a united Jerusalem. When campaigning, actors in all parties will attempt to gain ground by charging his opponent plans to divide Jerusalem. Attacks on Rabin’s Jerusalem policy were heard throughout his tenure. Likud’s claim that Shimon Peres would divide Jerusalem is often blamed for his failed election bid in 1996. A similar tactic was used in Ariel Sharon’s campaign against Ehud Barak in 2001. More often than not, it is Likud hurling the charge at Labor, but this is not always the case. In 2007, Netanyahu charged that Ehud Olmert, a former member of Likud and until 2008 head of the center-right party Kadima, planned to divide Jerusalem. In Israel politicians face not only political but legal constraints to dividing Jerusalem. Since 1967, the Knesset has imposed legal obstacles designed to prevent any negotiation over the Holy City. The first of this legislation was the Basic Law-Jerusalem adopted on July 30,

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1980. The law officially declared what already existed in fact, that Israel held sovereignty over East Jerusalem.146 In November 2000, the Knesset amended the Basic Law to explicitly define East Jerusalem “to include, inter alia, the entire area designated in the appendix to the declaration on the expansion of the area of the municipality of Yerushalayim” – those territories annexed in the 1967 bill. In November 2007, a Likud member introduced a bill into the Knesset that would forbid any politician to divide the city without first receiving a supermajority within the Knesset. In 2008, the bill passed its first reading. These political and legal constraints are at first glance uncontroversial. As Mark Heller nicely summarizes, Jerusalem is “a transcendental value for Israelis . . . and if there is any outstanding issue about which it can truly be said that an Israeli national consensus exists, it is that Jerusalem remain the capital of Israel, undivided and wholly accessible.”147 But further exploration reveals that these constraints are in fact puzzling. For example, many of the legal obstacles to dividing Jerusalem have passed despite a lack of majority support. The 1980 Basic Law is an excellent example of this. Politicians in both Labor and Likud suggested the bill was simply not in their interests. Dayan even proclaimed that “there has never been a law with such a meager support approved by so many votes.”148 Few Labor politicians supported the Basic Law.149 Asking how the bill would affect their ability to negotiate with the Arab states, Eban argued, “Is there anyone who seriously claims this act does not impose a heavy burden?”150 The bill would undermine Israel’s ability to negotiate with other Arab countries, as well as to implement domestic reforms in Jerusalem.151 For example, three years before the Basic Law was introduced Jerusalem’s mayor, Teddy Kollek, wrote a highly publicized article suggesting more autonomy for Jerusalem’s Palestinian population. In 1980, he begged the Knesset not to pass the Basic Law, charging that it would undermine these reforms.152 Even Likud members believed the Basic Law was not in their best interest. Likud feared that passing the law

146

147 148 149 150 151 152

For the text of the bill, see Major Knesset Debates, vol. 6, Ninth Knesset, 2406–413. For discussions of the politics surrounding the Basic Law, see e.g., Wasserstein 2002, 242–45; Yishai 1985. Heller 1983, 116. Quoted in Yishai 1987, 48. Wasserstein 2002, 242–45; Lustick 1993a, 380–81; Yishai 1985. As quoted in the Associated Press, July 30, 1980. Lustick 1993, 380. Wasserstein 2002, 242–45. Kollek 1977, 701–16.

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would undermine ongoing negotiations with Egypt, particularly those pertaining to Palestinian autonomy, and provoke international outrage. Because of this, two days before its introduction, the Likud government informed its parliamentary caucus that it officially opposed the bill.153 Despite strident opposition, however, the bill passed with overwhelming support. Similar puzzles emerge when looking at political constraints. Often the very same politicians who pronounce Jerusalem as indivisible are also those searching for a way to divide the city. Barak pledged to maintain a united Jerusalem even as he searched for a division at the Camp David talks. Despite Sharon’s attacks on Barak, during his time as prime minister an aide confided that Sharon proposed a security fence would divide the city.154 Although Sharon denied any such plans existed, his successor Olmert was likewise poised to divide Jerusalem as a means to implement Israel’s separation from the West Bank.155 Whatever their own interests, politicians have been forced to accept these constraints for fear that doing otherwise would compromise their own legitimacy. Any public willingness to divide Jerusalem has provoked attacks from the powerful Religious Zionist coalitions. For example, the Basic Law of 1980 was explicitly designed as an attack on Begin’s legitimacy. The law itself was introduced by Tehiya, a party that had broken off from Likud to protest Begin’s negotiations with Egypt. As Tehiya member Geula Cohen pronounced in her introduction of the bill, the law was designed to “strengthen those among us who are weak and condemn those who . . . conceal the fact that they are ready to compromise on Israel’s sovereignty in East Jerusalem, including the Temple Mount.”156 In essence the bill challenged Likud’s ability to credibly speak for religious nationalism. It was extremely effective. Tehiya was not an electoral threat – it was a small, marginal party. It could, however, threaten Likud’s legitimacy by calling into question the party’s commitment to Religious Zionism. In the end, Likud might have disliked the bill, but it could not oppose it publicly. Neither, for that matter, could Labor, which faced similar constraints on its legitimacy. As a result, the bill passed with overwhelming support.157 153 154

155

156 157

Yishai 1985, 48–49. See e.g., “Sharon ‘plans to share Jerusalem with Palestinians: leader forced to deny plan to make concessions,’” The Guardian, December 15, 2005, 19. See e.g., “Israel’s Labor Party officially supports giving up parts of Jerusalem,” Associated Press, January 20, 2006. Major Knesset Debates, vol. 6, 2409. Lustick 1993a, 380; Wasserstein 2002, 242–50; Yishai 1985.

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Political and legal challenges multiplied over the next two decades, particularly as the Oslo peace process moved forward. Politicians such as Peres and Barak believed that dividing Jerusalem was necessary to secure a lasting peace. Any movement in this direction, however, provoked attacks on their legitimacy from Religious Zionist groups. Charges that these Israeli politicians would “divide Jerusalem” were designed not only to delegitimate the actors, but the entire Israeli-Palestinian peace process. To defend the legitimacy of the peace process, Israeli politicians promised to keep Jerusalem united, even as they made plans to divide the city. Such public pronouncements damaged the talks. If politicians could not speak of dividing Jerusalem, then they could hardly build a coalition that supported a compromise over the city.158 Similar processes hampered Palestinian efforts at compromise. The more Hamas gained power, the less Fatah could yield on Jerusalem. Hamas saw Jerusalem as a perfect battleground on which to contest Fatah’s legitimacy. It argued that while Fatah was planning to compromise Palestinians’ claim to Islam’s most holy site, Hamas would defend their eternal rights to the city. Hamas “cast itself as Jerusalem’s defender, guardian of al-Aqsa. Hamas’s favorite wall signature was a clenched fist rising out of the Dome of the Rock, usually situated within a map of Palestine.”159 As Beverly Milton-Edwards argues, “Jerusalem the holy” is central to Hamas’s rhetoric: “Small stickers produced by the movement are adorned with pictures of the al-Aqsa mosque and the slogans printed on them declare: ‘The call of Jerusalem is for Muslims to fight. With stones and blood we will liberate the land of the night journey.’”160 Hamas claimed Jerusalem was equal to Mecca. To leave Jerusalem in Israeli hands was not only to lose territory, it was a bargain with an infidel “tantamount to the abandonment of Mecca and al-Medina.”161 Each of these claims placed political constraints on Fatah and Arafat, who rightly perceived Hamas’s rhetoric as an attack on their legitimacy. To fend off Hamas’s attacks, Arafat responded with rhetoric designed to cast himself as Jerusalem’s defender, to ensure “that this powerful symbolic resource cannot be used by any other to build competing legitimacy.”162 Whereas Fatah once ignored Jerusalem, in the 1990s, Arafat’s religious references became largely oriented toward the Holy 158 159 160 161 162

Klein 2003, 133–40. Friedland and Hecht 1996, 378. See also Abu Amr 1994, 62; Milton-Edwards 1992. Milton-Edwards 1992, 51. Quoted in Friedland and Hecht 1996, 378. Sayigh 2001.

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City, casting a return Jerusalem as the liberation of the Palestinian nation.163 For example, in a 1994 visit to a Johannesburg Mosque, Arafat called for jihad in Jerusalem, exclaiming to his audience that “you have to come and to fight and to start a jihad in Jerusalem.”164 Such proclamations hardly seemed consistent with Fatah’s actual position. Indeed as Arafat made his announcement, his deputy was working with Israeli’s Yossi Beilin to divide the Holy City. Political constraints increased throughout the 1990s, especially during the Camp David talks of 2000. In July 2000, faced with Hamas’s rhetorical outbursts and violent attacks, PLO leaders felt compelled to sign a Basic Law of their own, which claimed exclusive Palestinian sovereignty in the eastern half of the city. When the Camp David talks collapsed in September 2000, Arafat turned once again to Jerusalem to boost his legitimacy, proclaiming that in denying a settlement, he had saved the Holy City. One day however, he promised, Palestinians would return to Jerusalem, “until we meet in Palestine, in Holy Jerusalem in Holy Jerusalem . . . until victory, until victory, until victory.”165 Such uncompromising remarks did not reflect Fatah’s interests at the bargaining table. However they did suggest how restricted Fatah’s position had become, and how few settlements they could accept as legitimate. By committing to preserve Palestinian sovereignty in Jerusalem, Arafat in fact undermined the legitimacy of his own negotiation efforts; in the process, he failed to build a coalition that would support a compromise on Jerusalem. Arafat may have preserved the PLO’s position as leader of the Palestinian nation, and fended off Hamas in the short run, but in the long run he undercut a settlement that might have secured a Palestinian state.166

expanding geography The change in Israeli and Palestinian political structures had a second lock-in effect: religious nationalists on both sides (but particularly in Israel) have used their position to expand Jerusalem’s geographic boundaries. Scholars and policy makers largely agree that Jerusalem’s 163 164

165 166

Frisch 2005. “Rabin Says Arafat’s ‘Jihad’ Remark Set Back Peace Effort.” The New York Times, May 20, 1994, A3. Quoted in Frisch 2005, 327. Friedland and Hecht 1996, 489–99; Kimmerling and Migdal, 2003, 306–8; Klein 1996; Wasserstein 2002, 313–16; Hroub 2000, 87–109.

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boundaries are neither “eternal” nor uncontested.167 Beyond the Old City and its sacred sites, there is no consensus as to what constitutes Jerusalem as a city. This ambiguity, politicians hoped, was a virtue. If there was no agreement about Jerusalem’s boundaries, there might be room to compromise: Israelis could give Palestinians part of Jerusalem, and then claim to their public that what was ceded was not Jerusalem at all. From 1990 onward, politicians attempted to use this ambiguity to reach a settlement. Unofficial talks between Israel’s Yossi Beilin and Abu Mazen (Mahmoud Abbas, at that time a key advisor to Arafat) were the first to use Jerusalem’s ambiguity to construct a division of the city.168 From 1993 to 1995, Beilin and Abu Mazen met almost twenty times, laying the groundwork for official permanent status talks. Although the talks covered all aspects of the final status agreement – Palestine’s boundaries, security forces, the question of Palestinian refugees, for example – it was debates about Jerusalem’s divisibility that would have the most impact on official negotiations. In these talks, both parties agreed that Jerusalem should “remain an open and undivided city with free and unimpeded access for people of all faiths and nationalities.”169 Although the core of Jerusalem would remain unified under an umbrella municipality, Palestinian and Israeli boroughs would be given autonomy. At the same time, the talks proposed to expand Jerusalem beyond its current municipal boundaries, absorbing Arab cities such as Abu Dis. Once enlarged, the western half of the city would become Yerushalayim, the newly expanded “Arab Eastern part of the city, under Palestinian sovereignty” would become Al-Quds. Israel and Palestinians would then recognize the capitals of each other’s states.170 In essence, the Jerusalem/Al-Quds plan exploited Jerusalem’s fuzzy eastern frontiers. By treating Abu Dis as Jerusalem proper, Palestinians could claim that they had established a capital in the Holy City. At the same time, since Abu Dis lay beyond the 1967 boundaries, Israelis 167 168

169

170

See e.g., Albin 1997; Albin 1993; Dumper 1992; Dumper 1997; Lustick 2000. For an account of these talks see Wasserstein 2002, 290–5; Klein 2003, 32–40; Rabinovich 2004; Beilin 2004; Klein 2001, 300–9; Lustick 2004. These talks were not the only forum in which Israelis and Palestinians discussed Jerusalem’s divisibility. For an example, the Jerusalem Institute worked with Israeli and Palestinian politicians and activists on the subject of Jerusalem as well. In May 2000, the Institute released a report suggesting three methods by which to divide the city. (Klein 2003, 50–52). The Beilin-Abu Mazen Understandings, October 31, 1995, Article VI, Number 1. As published in Beilin 2004. Ibid., Article 6, Numbers 2–8.

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could argue that their Jerusalem remains united, within the boundaries of what was annexed after the Six Day War. Each side could credibly claim victory. Israelis and Palestinians, as well as the American mediators, considered this and other methods to use Jerusalem’s ambiguity to their advantage at Camp David in 2000. President Bill Clinton, for example, suggested a demographic divide between Arab and Israeli neighborhoods. Others proposed functional divides, in which different national groups would have control over different tasks within the city.171 The plan was not only clever, it seemed likely to gain public support. If Israelis did not care about ruling Palestinian neighborhoods, then they would not object to Abu Dis being renamed Al-Quds. Likewise, Palestinians attached less value to areas of Jerusalem where they lacked a demographic presence. Despite signs of public support, the voices of religious nationalism effectively challenged this division of Jerusalem. Over time, by hardening the boundaries of Jerusalem, religious nationalists have worked to eliminate the ambiguity of Jerusalem’s boundaries and, in the process, undermined plans for the city’s division. Israeli religious nationalists have effectively hardened Jerusalem’s boundaries through two means: settlement and legislation. Since 1967 but especially from 1977 onward, settlers have acted consistently to create “facts on the ground,” settlements that would Judaize Jerusalem and eliminate the Palestinian presence in the city. In the late 1980s, as negotiations with the Palestinians looked increasingly likely, settlers acted to remove demographic segregation, and thus any claim the Palestinians could make to govern sections of the city. Perhaps the most famous example of this challenge came at the outbreak of the Intifada in 1987, when housing minister Ariel Sharon took up residence in the Muslim Quarter in the Old City. He encouraged others to follow his lead and challenge the Palestinian presence in the city. Religious Zionists further aimed to obliterate the boundary between Jerusalem and the West Bank. Under Shamir, for example, settlements such as Ma’ale Adumim and Givat Ze’ev were enlarged so much that it became “difficult to differentiate between [West Bank] settlements and the outlying settlements of Jerusalem.”172 This, indeed, was part of the strategic goal of the settlements – the more settlements melded into a united Jerusalem, the less likely it was that the Israeli government could dismantle them. 171 172

For a discussion of functional division, see Albin 1997. Shindler 1995, 265.

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With each expansion, it became more difficult for the Israeli government to exploit the ambiguity in Jerusalem’s boundaries – as the borders became more concrete and ringed with settlers, there was less room for maneuver, and attempts to cede sovereignty to the Palestinians appeared more and more illegitimate. These facts on the ground were increasingly supported by legislation that also decreased the ambiguity of Jerusalem’s borders. Most notably, as Barak engaged in negotiations over Jerusalem, an amendment to the Basic Law of 2000 defined Jerusalem explicitly as “the entire area designated in the appendix to the declaration on the expansion of the area of the municipality of Yerushalayim” in 1967. Thus, East Jerusalem cannot be negotiated away unless a majority of Knesset members override the provision.173 Once again, religious nationalists were using Jerusalem to challenge the legitimacy of the government, earning passage for a bill that no political party really wished to support.174 As Israelis’ claims to the city expanded, Palestinians also hardened their position on Jerusalem’s boundaries. Fatah has always argued Jerusalem should be divided, with Palestinians claiming sovereignty over the eastern half of the city. As Arafat argued when Palestinians asked for Jerusalem, “the Jerusalem that we are speaking of is East Jerusalem, the capital of the Palestinian state.”175 What Palestinians define as East Jerusalem is a matter of debate. At maximum, demands for East Jerusalem mandate the return of the 1967 boundary that divided the city. When bargaining with Israelis, however, Palestinians signaled a more minimalist definition of East Jerusalem, recognizing that Israel’s settlements within the city have made a return to 1967 neither possible nor desirable.176 But as Hamas became embedded in Palestinian political networks, so too did Fatah’s position on East Jerusalem become less compromising. Hamas claimed that if Fatah were to cede any part of the eastern city, it would be overturning its commitment to the 1967 boundaries, negotiating away the heart of the city: “Sublime Jerusalem is an inseparable part of the Palestinian territories occupied by Israel in 1967 and all rules that apply to the occupied territories apply to it.”177 173 174 175 176

177

For a discussion, see Lustick 2004, 212. Ibid. See also Klein 2003, 191. Quoted in Klein 2003, 59. Wasserstein 2002, 308; Klein 2003, 175; Rabinovich 2004, 151–52; Klein 2001, 152– 15. Quoted in Klein 2001, 171.

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It was not that the Palestinian public insisted on a return to Jerusalem’s 1967 boundaries; nor did Arafat seem particularly eager to secure these boundaries.178 At Camp David, Arafat seemed to agree, in principle, to a compromise that would “leave the Western Wall and the Jewish Quarter, as well as the new Jewish neighborhoods in East Jerusalem, under Israeli sovereignty.”179 But the more Hamas attacked Fatah’s legitimacy, the less flexibility Fatah had to define Jerusalem’s boundaries. This backlash against compromise was not of the majority; it was rooted in Hamas’s strong network position. As a result, at Camp David Arafat ended up demanding not only exclusive control over the eastern half of Jerusalem, but also the Palestinian capital within those municipal boundaries. Abu Dis, once the solution, was no longer on the table; nor was a mutually legitimate settlement to Jerusalem’s boundaries. Compelled by religious nationalists, Israel now claimed rule over an eastern half of a city it did not really control. For their part, the Palestinians argued they could not cede part of the city, despite the fact that they possessed none of it.

the collapse of religious and political sovereignty Finally, religious nationalists in both Israeli and Palestinian politics have used their position to challenge the legitimacy of separating religious and political sovereignty – that is to say, giving one side religious jurisdiction, but not political control (or vice versa). Given the centrality of the Temple Mount/Noble Sanctuary to the Jerusalem conflict, this division between religious and national sovereignty is critical. In 1967, for example, Dayan used this distinction to give Muslims control of the Temple Mount/Noble Sanctuary, even as Israel claimed political control. Israeli and Palestinian elites believed that dividing religious and political sovereignty was key to reaching a settlement. The first concrete proposals based on this principle were outlined in the Beilin-Abu Mazen talks. Israelis and Palestinians agreed to recognize “the special status and significance of the Old City area . . . for members of the Christian, Jewish and Muslim faiths, the Parties agree to grant this area a special status.”

178

179

As the survey by Segal et al. suggests, 53 percent of Palestinians are willing to exclude new Jerusalem neighborhoods from the city, even though they technically lie in the 1967 borders. Segal 2000, 36. Quoted in Klein 2003, 77.

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Although it was not clear what special status meant, the talks stipulated that “the State of Palestine shall be granted extra-territorial sovereignty over the Haram al-Sharif under the administration of the al-Quds Waqf. The present status quo regarding the right of access and prayer for all will be secured.”180 Palestinians, moreover, would have rights to fly their flag over the Haram, an explicit symbol of sovereignty. Similar divisions of sovereignty were explored at Camp David. With U.S. President Clinton’s mediation, Arafat and Barak considered the division of the Temple Mount/al-Haram al-Sharif, arguing for proposals ranging from the extraterritoriality proposals described above, to vertically dividing the Holy Site, with Palestinians controlling the buildings of the Haram and Israelis holding sovereignty over the Western Wall and the ground below.181 In each of these suggestions, each side attempted to distinguish religious from political claims, to “denationalize Jerusalem’s most sacred shrine” by treating it as distinct from political sovereignty.182 Religious nationalists dismissed this distinction between religious and political sovereignty as illegitimate. In Israel, the public had become more flexible in regard to Jerusalem and the holy sites.183 In contrast, the religious and ultraorthodox factions have become “more radical, and they put pressure from below on their spiritual and political leaders.”184 Religious Zionists’ opposition to dividing sovereignty over the sacred areas was not unprecedented. Because Israelis had ceded religious control of the Temple Mount to Muslims in 1967, religious nationalists had protested the Israeli government’s policy. Religious Zionists claimed as Gorenberg argues that it was “not enough to be in a sacred space, one had to own it.”185 In the 1980s, these sentiments became strategies, with voices on the religious right demanding political sovereignty over the Temple Mount. In 1981, the Faithful of the Temple Mount was founded, with “an explicit purpose of forcing the issue of Jewish prayer on the Temple Mount and restoring it to Israeli sovereignty.”186 By the 1980s, Gush Emunim had

180 181

182 183 184 185 186

Beilin-Abu Mazen Agreement, Article VI, numbers 10, 11, and 13. For a discussion of the Camp David negotiations, see Wasserstein 2002, 313–17, 342– 43; Klein 2003; Rabinovich 2004, 123–80; Beilin 2004, 147–74; Klein 2001; Lustick 2004; Quandt 2001, 321–84. Klein 2001, 332. See also Gorenberg 2002. Klein 2003, 83. Ibid. Gorenberg 2002, 169. Friedland and Hecht 1996, 122.

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decided to make the issue of sovereignty over the Temple Mount central to its own settlement campaign. Beginning in 1982, dozens of articles appeared in the group’s journal that demanded Israel declare sovereignty over the Temple Mount.187 Among the Israeli public, the Temple Mount issue only vaguely resonated. Indeed, the most extreme claims were dismissed entirely. The Israeli public saw many of these demands as a precursor of violence against Muslim’s holy sites.188 Most members of the Israeli government did not share in the religious nationalists’ commitments. However, if one were to act legitimately, as defined by Religious Zionism, then supporting political sovereignty over the Mount was crucial. In the face of pressure, Likud and the NRP increasingly pressed for sovereignty over the Mount, encapsulated most vividly by Ariel Sharon’s visit to the Temple Mount in September 2000. Facing attacks on his legitimacy, Barak believed he had no choice but to demand that Israel be given political sovereignty over the Temple Mount. At Camp David, Barak put forth three proposals. In the first, sovereignty over the Mount would be Israel’s, with the Palestinians holding functional sovereignty over the area. The second proposal would leave the Temple Mount undecided at the moment, but extend Israel’s political sovereignty over all other holy sites in Jerusalem, with functional sovereignty given to Palestine. A final proposal would give Israel complete political sovereignty over the Temple Mount, but give Arafat “religious custody” over Islamic sacred spaces in Jerusalem.189 In each of these cases, Israel would maintain exclusive political sovereignty over the Temple Mount/Noble Sanctuary. These claims were a dramatic departure from Israel’s earlier positions; to the Palestinians, Barak’s claims represented a sea change in Israel’s policy. Given its own political constraints, there was no way the Palestinian delegation could accept Barak’s demands as legitimate. In Palestinian politics, Hamas’s increased influence had expanded the scope of sovereignty claims, collapsing religious and political sovereignty. This is not to say that claims to the holy sites would not have emerged without Hamas’s pressure. Palestinian nationalists, although secular, had never denied the importance of these sacred spaces to the Palestinian nation. If Palestine 187 188

189

Ibid., 461–62. See also Gorenberg 2002. In 1984, for example, six members of the Jewish Underground were arrested. After their arrests, they admitted to planning to blow up the Dome of the Rock, in a preliminary move to build a new Temple. Wasserstein 2002, 342–43; Klein 2003, 73; Rabinovich 2004; Beilin 2004, 155, 157; Lustick 2004.

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were to be a viable state, then some form of control over the Islamic holy sites was necessary. As Arafat declared in 1994, “No Arab or Israeli leader rules over the holy places in East Jerusalem. That right lies solely with the Palestinians.”190 Yet if Palestinians and Israelis could distinguish political and religious sovereignty, Israelis could demand exclusive political control without denying religious sovereignty, and Palestinians could hold religious rights without impinging on Israel’s sovereign territorial claims. In theoretical terms, this could leave room for shared sovereignty over the holy spaces; in practice, in early negotiations, it did. The Beilin-Abu Mazen accords had introduced the idea of a “holy basin,” an area of religious significance not subject to the same political claims as the rest of the city. Palestinians could accept extraterritorial sovereignty over the area. This would place direct control of the Noble Sanctuary under the Islamic Waqf – a nonpolitical entity – and secure Jewish religious rights at the Temple Mount. As Hamas strengthened, however, Palestinian flexibility decreased. For Hamas, national and religious sovereignty are simply indistinguishable; anything less than complete and exclusive control over the holy sites of Jerusalem is unacceptable. With Hamas attacking Fatah’s legitimacy Arafat’s delegation felt compelled to extend its sovereignty claims to the holy sites. No longer would it be possible to speak of a separate divine sovereignty. By September 2000, Arafat was ridiculing the idea of divine sovereignty, arguing that “the religious element of al-haram al-Sharif must be linked with Palestinian national identity and authority . . . it is not religion in and of itself that sets the site apart, but rather its connection to the Palestinian national entity.”191 As religious and political claims merged it became impossible for the Palestinians to recognize Israeli claims to the Temple Mount/Noble Sanctuary. Israel’s claims to political sovereignty over the mount were absolutely illegitimate. As Klein reports, Palestinian negotiators could not understand “why a secular government would give so much weight to the position of religious and nationalist extremists and why Israel would court the danger of turning the national conflict into a religious one as well.”192 As the negotiations wore on, the Palestinian delegation began to

190 191

192

Quoted in Klein 2001, 167. Klein 2004, 96. The discussion below draws from Klein’s report of the discussions in 2000. For other reports of these negotiations, see fn 178. Ibid., 76.

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deny the legitimacy of religious, Jewish claims to the site. The delegation argued at one point that “they [the Jews] claim that two thousand years ago they had a holy place there. I doubt this fact.”193 In sum, among both Israelis and Palestinians, the increased power of religious groups slowly eroded the separation of religious and political sovereignty. No longer could these elites recognize the legitimacy of each other’s claims to the holy sites. With no distinction between religious and political sovereignty, there was no longer any room for a special status arrangement, or to create a holy basin where no one state would have control. With religious nationalists demanding exclusive political sovereignty, there was no room for compromise. Jerusalem had become indivisible territory.

conclusion These chapters have attempted to demonstrate that Jerusalem’s indivisibility is a political construct, born from changes in legitimation strategies, and not from the inherent qualities of the city. To emphasize again, these chapters do not dispute the idea that Jerusalem is invaluable, and that its worth exists outside of political considerations. What these chapters do question is whether Jerusalem’s status as a sacred space inevitably rendered the city indivisible, as some theorists claim. If Jerusalem’s indivisibility is constructed, then this should be cause for some optimism – if politicians can construct territory as indivisible, then perhaps they could redefine the city and once again open up room for compromise? Although this is possible, it is decidedly not easy. How territory might become divisible again is the subject to which we now turn. 193

Ibid. See also Segal 2000, 37–38.

7 How Northern Ireland Became Divisible (And Why Jerusalem Has Not)

The preceding chapters argued that Ulster and Jerusalem became indivisible through comparable political processes. In both cases, legitimation strategies constructed these territories as indivisible: by narrowing the range of legitimate positions, politicians’ legitimation strategies constructed Ulster and Jerusalem as indivisible territory, leaving them without the possibility of a negotiated settlement. Ulster’s indivisibility sparked almost a century of conflict, ranging from minor spates of violence, such as murders, riots, and sectarian attacks, to organized interstate war in 1919–21, the civil war of 1922–23, the IRA’s “border campaigns” of 1956, and the almost twenty-five years of the Troubles. The unrest, all told, has left 3,624 people dead and 40,000 injured.1 In September 2000, as the Israeli-Palestinian peace talks collapsed, the second or “Al-Aqsa” Intifada erupted in Jerusalem. What began as riots at the Temple Mount spread quickly to uprisings in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. Fierce battles followed, as Israeli forces moved to reoccupy Palestinian cities in 2003. Although occasional ceasefires have slowed the violence the truces have been shaky and punctuated by violence, such as in Israel’s incursion into the Gaza Strip in 2009. Since 2000, attacks are estimated to have taken the lives of 1,129 Israelis, injuring 6,500, and 4,406 Palestinians, with 31,239 injured.2 1

2

Estimate from CBS news at http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2007/04/10/london/ main2666975.shtml. Accessed August 15, 2008. Reuters, March 27, 2007. http://www.alertnet.org/printable.htm?URL=/db/crisisprofiles/ IP_CON.htm. The sources for the Israeli casualties are the Israeli government, January 2007; the source for Palestinian casualties is the Palestine Red Crescent Society, January 2007.

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From 1998 onward, however, Ulster and Jerusalem have appeared worlds apart. Despite ongoing incidents, there is increasing confidence that Northern Ireland is on the road to permanent peace.3 On April 10, 1998, after almost two years of “all-party” talks,4 Northern Ireland’s Unionists, Nationalists and Republicans, along with the Irish and British governments, signed the Good Friday (or Belfast) Agreement, which established a power-sharing government between Northern Ireland’s Unionists and Nationalists. On May 22, 1998, a Northern Ireland referendum endorsed the agreement, with 71 percent of the electorate voting for its support.5 Although at times it seemed to falter, the Belfast Agreement effectively divided Northern Ireland – it created shared sovereignty between Unionists and Nationalists, and arguably between the Republic of Ireland, Britain, and Northern Ireland’s governments as well. No similar story can be told of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Indeed, since the failure of the Camp David talks in 2000, prospects for Jerusalem’s division have only decreased. This chapter takes up the question of how it is Northern Ireland has become divisible, and what insight, if any, this might provide into the Jerusalem conflict. In the first part of the chapter, I consider why it is that Northern Ireland became negotiable. Following a brief overview of the Northern Ireland peace process, I explain that much of the peace process was thwarted initially by issues of legitimacy: Irish, British, and Northern Ireland’s politicians failed to settle their conflict not for reasons of interest, but because there was no agreement they could all accept as legitimate.6 In the next section, I use the legitimation theory to explain why it is peace became possible in 1998. I argue in particular that the emergence of brokers – actors with ties to multiple parties – used ambiguous rhetoric that 3

4

5

6

For an optimistic analysis of these talks, see Jackson 2003; Mitchell 1999; Ruane and Todd 1996; O’Leary and McGarry 2004. The multiparty talks officially began in June 1996, although there had been other ongoing discussions, formal and informal, throughout the 1980s and 1990s. In September 1998, following the IRA’s offer of a complete cessation of military operations, Sinn F´ein was invited to join the multiparty talks. The Ulster Unionist Party and other smaller and more extreme Loyalist parties – including the Progressive Unionist Party and the Unionist Democratic Party – also participated in the talks. The only major Unionist party absent at the multiparty talks was the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP), who refused to participate once Sinn F´ein was included. The agreement received the overwhelming support of Northern Ireland’s Nationalists – some polls calculated as high as 96 percent support among Nationalists – and less support among Unionists, perhaps as low as 55 percent. Moreover, while 95 percent of eligible Nationalists voted, only 70 percent of eligible Unionists turned out. See Godson 2004, 371. See e.g., Hennessey 2001, 18; Jackson 2003, 306; O’Leary 2001, 57–60.

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helped ensure the Good Friday Agreement’s success. I conclude by using these theoretical observations to analyze why it is the Israeli-Palestinian peace process has continued to stall, and what might be done about it.

the road to peace: northern ireland and negotiations, 1973–2008 The Good Friday Agreement was a long time coming. Arguably the peace process7 began with the Sunningdale Conference in 1973.8 In 1972, faced with mounting civil unrest, Britain revoked Northern Ireland’s home rule institutions, and placed the territory under direct rule. To restore the powers of the Stormont (the seat of Northern Ireland’s government) throughout 1973, the Ulster Unionist Party (UUP), then headed by Brian Faulkner, and Northern Ireland’s Nationalist Party, the Social Democratic Labor Party (SDLP), hammered out an agreement to install a power-sharing executive, as well as an assembly that would be elected through proportional representation (which would ensure Nationalist and Unionist power-sharing at the legislative level). In December 1973, at the Sunningdale Conference, the UUP and SDLP further agreed to form a Council of Ireland, an intergovernmental institution staffed with ministers from both the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland. The council, as imagined at Sunningdale, would consult autonomously with the Irish, Northern Irish, and British governments, and was endowed with some executive powers as well.9 Sunningdale was ambitious. It was also an immediate failure. Irish Republican Army (IRA)10 and Loyalist11 attacks continued. In February

7

8 9 10

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Some Unionists argue that the use of the term peace process is a Republican propaganda term: that the peace that Nationalists and Republicans seek is actually unity with the Republic of Ireland, rather than true accommodation with Unionists. Here I use the term to denote negotiations over Northern Ireland, beginning in Sunningdale in 1973 and lasting through the present day. See Farrington 2006, 126. On Sunningdale, see Hennessey 2001, 10–18; Jackson 2003, 270–8; Bew 2007, 512–15. On the Council, see ibid. Space precludes a discussion of the complexities surrounding the Republican movement, but clarification is important. When I refer here to the IRA, I am referring to the Provisional IRA, PIRAs or Provos as they are often called, which split off from the IRA in 1969. The Provos were dismayed with what they saw as an increased reliance on parliamentary politics in the IRA; PIRA promised a return to armed struggle. On this episode, see Taylor 1997, 55–68. Following conventional usage, this chapter will use Unionist to refer to those parties that seek to preserve the union with Britain, but do not officially support violent measures to attain that goal. Loyalist parties are those that hold the same goals, but are associated with paramilitary activity.

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1974, twelve died when an IRA bomb targeted a bus in England; in May, Loyalist bombs in Dublin and Monaghan killed thirty-one. More devastating to the agreement than the bombs was the Ulster Workers’ Council strike. Unionists were suspicious enough of power-sharing. Sunningdale’s inclusion of Council of Ireland seemed to be an unacceptable concession to Northern Ireland’s Nationalists. Unionists saw it as a step on the road to Irish unification, and thus it was an entirely illegitimate institution.12 By May 1974, the strikes had shut down Northern Ireland’s economy. On May 28, Faulkner resigned and the power-sharing executive fell, forcing Britain to resume direct rule over Northern Ireland. For the next fifteen years, there were no direct talks between Northern Ireland’s Unionist and Nationalist parties. Beginning in 1980, Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative government attempted to halt the terrorist violence through direct negotiations with the Republic of Ireland. In November 1985, the talks produced the Anglo-Irish Agreement, which officially gave the Republic of Ireland a consultative say in the governance of Northern Ireland.13 Although the agreement also recognized that any change in Northern Ireland’s status could only occur with a majority vote within the territory, Unionists were outraged; they saw the agreement as yet another step toward shared British-Irish sovereignty and the end of their union with the United Kingdom.14 Republicans further charged that the Republic of Ireland had unjustly recognized the British presence in Northern Ireland, and had legitimated the thoroughly illegitimate sixcounty state.15 Despite these criticisms, Northern Ireland’s parties now rushed to put forward their own version of a peace agreement. In 1988, for instance, the SDLP began a series of meetings with Sinn F´ein/IRA, in hopes of drawing the paramilitary group away from violence and toward a shared nationalist platform in Northern Ireland.16 Although the initial talks failed, they served as a basis for the Hume-Adams agreement in 1993, which pledged that both parties would work toward the Irish nation’s “right to national self-determination.”17 The UUP and the Democratic Unionist 12 13

14 15 16

17

See Godson 2004, 32–49; Hennessey 2001, 11–17; Taylor 1999, 127–37. On the Anglo-Irish Agreement, see Hennessey 2001, 27; Jackson 2003, 292–300; Bew 2007, 531–33. See e.g., Jackson 294; Bew 2007, 531–532; Farrington 2006, 53. See e.g., Hennessey 2001, 37. During the peace process Sinn F´ein’s leaders insisted that it was a political organization not connected with the paramilitary operations of the IRA. Although Sinn F´ein has grown more autonomous throughout the 1990s and present day, for most of its history there was no separation between Sinn F´ein and the IRA. Quoted in Jackson 2003, 304.

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Party (DUP) joined forces to compose the Draft Proposals for a BritishIrish Agreement, designed to persuade Downing Street that a new AngloIrish agreement, one more favorable to Unionism, was necessary.18 By the 1990s, the stage was once again set for multiparty talks. Negotiations began in 1991 with the Brooke-Mayhew talks,19 a series of negotiations between the Nationalist SDLP and its Unionist counterparts, the UUP and DUP. The talks addressed the three critical strands of the Northern Ireland conflict: what was to be the internal government of Northern Ireland, particularly how power-sharing was to be implemented; how would Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland structure its relations; and what was the nature of the relationship between the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland in regard to Northern Ireland? Although negotiations went on for almost two years, these multiparty talks faltered in the face of increasing Republican and Loyalist violence; by 1993, it looked as though the peace process would collapse. To push it forward, in December 1993 the British and Irish governments, then led by John Major and Albert Reynolds, issued the Downing Street Declaration. In the declaration, the British formally declared that it had “no selfish strategic or economic interest in Northern Ireland,” whereas the Irish argued there would be no united Ireland in the “absence of the freely given consent of a majority of the people of Northern Ireland.”20 The Downing Street Declaration at once stated shared Anglo-Irish principles as well as called for a democratic approach to a final settlement. If the paramilitary political groups – most notably, Sinn F´ein – were to renounce violence, they too could be included in this democratic process. Sinn F´ein officially rejected the declaration, yet unofficially accepted its terms and invitation. In August 1994, the IRA declared a “complete cessation of military operations” in order to “enhance the democratic peace process.”21 The Unionist paramilitaries agreed to the declaration’s terms as well. After several false starts, and more than three years of haggling about what a cessation of violence should entail (and thus, whether Sinn F´ein should be included in negotiations), the talks began in earnest 18 19

20

21

See e.g., Hennessey 2001, 53. So named for Northern Ireland’s Secretaries of State, Peter Brooke and his successor Sir Peter Mayhew. On these talks see O’Grady 2001. Copy of the Downing Street, or Joint Declaration accessed at the Republic of Ireland’s Department of Foreign Affairs website, http://foreignaffairs.gov.ie/home/ index.aspx?id=8734. Accessed August 21, 2008. Quoted in Jackson 2003, 306.

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in September 1997.22 By April 1998, the parties had reached agreement on all three strands of the Northern Ireland conflict. On Strand One, the parties agreed to a power-sharing, or consociational, government. At the legislative level, there would be a unicameral assembly, elected through proportional representation, which would ensure power-sharing between Nationalist and Unionist parties.23 Power-sharing also was assured in the executive branch. Northern Ireland’s cabinet would include a First Minister and Deputy Minister neither of whom would be subservient to one another and jointly elected into office by the Assembly voting on a crosscommunity basis.24 On Strand Two, the Belfast Agreement established a North-South Ministerial Council (NSMC). The agreement stated that the NSMC was “to bring together those with executive responsibilities in Northern Ireland and the Irish Government, to develop consultation, co-operation and action within the island of Ireland – including through implementation on an all-island and cross-border basis – on matters of mutual interest within the competence of the administrations, North and South.”25 Significantly, the agreement stated that the NSMC had consultative, not executive powers, and that its ministers were accountable to their respective governments, not to the council’s institutions themselves. Finally, the Belfast Agreement included significant measures on Strand Three, the relations between Britain and Ireland. The agreement established a British-Irish Council, which would bring together ministers from the United Kingdom and Ireland to “exchange information, discuss, consul and use best endeavours to reach agreement on cooperation on matters of mutual interest.”26 Even more importantly, the agreement set out the basis for a dual renunciation of rights to Northern Ireland. Although the 22

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24 25

26

The major question was whether the IRA must decommission its weapons before entering the peace talks. Unionists, not surprisingly, demanded decommissioning before negotiations. The IRA refused, and maintained that its (rather ambiguous) commitment to nonviolent action was sufficient. The decommissioning question was finally put aside when George Mitchell released his report stating that the paramilitaries would not decommission before the talks, and outlined principles that those involved in the talks should subscribe to, which included eventual disarmament. See Mitchell 1999, 35–37. On the issue of decommissioning more generally, see O’Kane 2007. On the consociational arrangements in Northern Ireland, see especially O’Leary 2001, 2004. Hennesey 2001, 176. The Belfast Agreement, Strand Two, Article 1. Agreement posted on the website of the Northern Ireland Office, http://www.nio.gov.uk/agreement.pdf. Accessed August 21, 2008. Ibid., Strand III, Article 5.

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Irish government agreed to amend its constitution to remove claims to Northern Ireland, the British government declared it would repeal the Government of Ireland Act of 1920, which arguably laid sovereign claim to Northern Ireland. In doing so, the Irish would remove a piece of constitutional legislation that infuriated Unionists, whereas the British would repudiate its sovereign claims that had so angered Nationalists.27 The Good Friday Agreement thus produced a settlement on the major issues of the Northern Ireland conflict. This is not to say that implementing the agreement has been easy. The IRA’s refusal to decommission its weapons forced David Trimble to resign from the position of First Minister; as a result, the Northern Ireland Assembly was suspended, and direct rule imposed in October 2003. In 2005, facing considerable pressure from international and domestic opinion, the IRA finally decommissioned its weapons. The devolution process began again and in October 2006 the St. Andrew’s Agreement put forward a timetable for a power-sharing government to take control in Northern Ireland. In March 2007, Gerry Adams, head of Sinn F´ein, and the Reverend Ian Paisley of the DUP agreed to a power-sharing executive. In May 2007, two politicians considered among the most extreme in their parties – Paisley and Martin McGuinness of Sinn F´ein – became First Minister and Deputy First Minister of the Northern Ireland government. Despite these setbacks, the Good Friday Agreement resolved the most significant substantive issues; the remaining conflicts, such as those over decommissioning or the composition of the police force, appear relatively minor when compared to the foundational issue of divided sovereignty.28 The question then is why did the Good Friday Agreement succeed, and why was it so long in coming? If Now, Why Not Then? Explaining the Indivisibility of the Northern Ireland Conflict The Belfast Agreement was a watershed moment in British, Irish, and Northern Irish politics. But it does raise a question: if the conflict over Northern Ireland proved itself divisible in 1998, why not earlier? Certainly it was not for a lack of trying to find a settlement; negotiations in

27

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As discussed in detail below, however, both sides employed a healthy measure of ambiguity, so they could both ultimately argue that they had not rescinded their territorial claims. Farrington 2006, 158.

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one form or another were ongoing from 1973 to 1998. But it is worth keeping in mind that to argue indivisibility is constructed does not mean it is infinitely or immediately malleable. Indivisibility occurs when structures leave actors with little flexibility. Once actors are locked into particular positions, they are likely to believe any change in their strategies will be perceived as illegitimate. In these circumstances, actors have staked their claims to territory on a single source of legitimacy. Although a different legitimation strategy might open the door to compromise, it also will undermine political authority. These constraints, furthermore, are not just cognitive. When politicians become locked into their rhetoric, they are likely to be punished when they deviate from their position. In a democracy, these political costs can be paid at the voting booth. As argued in Chapter 6, in Israel charges of dividing Jerusalem are frequent during elections, used as a tool to undermine opponents.29 Moreover, political costs can come even if a majority supports a settlement. In the case of Northern Ireland, a majority in Northern Ireland, Britain, and Ireland desired a settlement, yet politicians still feared their legitimacy was at risk. Political punishment, then, might come in the form of losing electoral support. But this is a symptom of delegitimation, not its cause. In politics, losing legitimacy comes from denying the very principles one claims to represent. In standing against those principles, actors risk abandoning what defines them politically; they put at risk the core of their political identity. If Sinn F´ein had denied its republican roots in 1921, what would then distinguish it from the Constitutional Nationalists? If Hamas were to recognize Israel, how does that distinguish it from Fatah? These issues of legitimacy only strengthen over time. As indivisible conflicts persist, legitimation strategies reinforce the cultural boundaries of divisibility as well. Here indivisibility truly becomes a social fact, where the symbols and rhetoric associated with the territory come to define the dispute as indivisible. Alternative narratives, blocked from political discourse, from textbooks, from the media fall to the wayside. Indivisibility becomes a hegemonic discourse, with no alternative account of the dispute available.30 In sum, when issues are indivisible we should find politicians limited in what settlements they can accept as legitimate. In the case of Northern Ireland, legitimacy issues constrained each of the major political parties 29 30

Lustick 1996. Lustick 1993a.

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involved in negotiations: the Unionists, the Nationalists, the Republicans, the Irish, and the British. As Thomas Hennessey, an academic and special advisor to the Unionists during the peace process argues, attempts to negotiate before 1998 failed because these parties neither “understood or accepted the legitimacy of each other’s position.”31 Unionists The Unionists in Northern Ireland are represented by a diverse set of parties. Until recently, the largest party was the UUP, which after 1995 was led by Trimble. In 2003, the relatively hard-line DUP, the party of Paisley, surpassed the UUP at the voting booths. Other Unionist parties with ties to Loyalist paramilitaries, including the Progressive Unionist Party and the Unionist Democratic Party, are also included in this analysis. As with their predecessors early in the twentieth century, Ulster’s Unionists maintain that Northern Ireland is an integral part of the United Kingdom. The majority of its inhabitants – its Protestant population – are British and not Irish in their ethnic identity. What this position means in practice is that Unionist politicians believe any agreement that fails to recognize Northern Ireland’s union with Britain is illegitimate. Likewise, any settlement that suggests that Northern Ireland is to be united with the republic must be rejected outright.32 This explains Unionists’ outrage at the cross-border institutions created by the Sunningdale Agreement in 1973; Unionists read these institutions as a sign that Northern Ireland was to be treated as Irish and ultimately reunited with the republic.33 In reality, the council would have had no practical effect on Northern Ireland’s position; so weak was the council that Faulkner claimed he “felt confident that Unionists, being basically practical people, would judge our final agreement on a practical rather than symbolic level.”34 He was wrong. Dissenters in the Unionist party charged that Faulkner and the British were delivering Ulstermen “bound into the hands of our enemies.”35 If Sunningdale were allowed to endure, then Unionists promised to “mobilize 80,000 men who will not seek a compromise in Ulster.”36 31 32 33 34 35 36

Hennessey 2001, 18. See e.g., ibid., Jackson 2003, 306; Bew 2007, 545. See Godson 2004, 32–49; Hennessey 2001, 11–17; Taylor 1999, 127–37. Faulkner 1978, 229. Quoted in Godson 2004, 33. Ibid., 32.

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Relatedly, Unionists refuse to accept any agreement as legitimate that does not recognize their right to self-determination as a separate nation. Given this, a particularly nasty obstacle to peace was the Republic of Ireland’s continued constitutional claim to Northern Ireland. As discussed in detail below, in 1937 the Irish Constitution incorporated an irrendentist claim into its constitution, promising to reunite north and south. Because of this, Unionists have argued that any agreement must include a repudiation of that constitutional claim – and acknowledge that Northern Ireland has its own right to self-determination. Unionists rejected both the Sunningdale Agreement in 1973, and the Anglo-Irish Agreement of 1985, because the Irish would not abandon this claim. In the latter case, Unionist MPs resigned their seats in protest. Strikes were called and Paisley told his followers to “pray this night that though wouldst deal with the Prime Minister of our country. O God, in wrath take vengeance upon this wicked, treacherous, lying woman.”37 Unionists, in sum, view any settlement that would undermine their national claims as not only illegitimate, but as an existential betrayal. Nationalists/Republicans There are two major parties pressing for Irish national rights in Northern Ireland: the Nationalists, represented by John Hume’s Social Democratic Labor Party, and the Republicans, composed most prominently of the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA, but here referred to as the IRA), and its political wing, Sinn F´ein. Many would find it puzzling to include both coalitions in the same analysis. Traditionally the SDLP has been seen as the more moderate voice of Irish nationalism in Northern Ireland. The SDLP first gained popularity as a voice for Catholic civil rights during the 1970s protest movements. It negotiated with the Ulster Unionist Party during the Sunningdale Conference in 1973, and has long argued that the road to Irish rights in Northern Ireland is a political, not a violent one. In contrast, the IRA is practically synonymous with The Troubles. Since 1972, the IRA has conducted a campaign of armed struggle to drive the British from Northern Ireland. Its campaigns have not been limited to Northern Ireland, but were carried out on British soil as well in the hope of creating unbearable costs for the British. Although not excusing Loyalist paramilitaries from their part in the violence, the IRA and other 37

Quoted in Bew 2007, 532.

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Republican paramilitaries are responsibe for more than 1,000 deaths. Although purporting to take aim at British government and military targets, the civilian toll of the IRA campaigns has been consequential – some estimate as many as 713 civilians have been killed by the IRA and other republican factions.38 Treating these two coalitions together is not to overlook their vast differences. But like their nineteenth-century predecessors, Nationalists and Republicans differ more in their methods than goals. More importantly for our purposes, they face similar constraints on what they can accept as legitimate. Both parties are committed to agreements that recognize their Irish national identity, and that pave the way for eventual unity between Northern Ireland and Ireland.39 Moreover, both groups maintain that the ultimate cause of conflict in Northern Ireland is British imperialism, not the presence of two ethnic or religious groups. Like nineteenth-century Irish parties, an agreement that insists that there are two nations in Ireland would be unthinkable. These commitments shed light on why the SDLP and the IRA/Sinn F´ein have had such difficulty accepting a negotiated settlement to the Northern Ireland conflict. Power-sharing, an institution at the core of every negotiation since Sunningdale, is viewed with suspicion – if Nationalists and Republicans were to accept power-sharing, this might suggest that the partition of Ireland into north and south is legitimate. Because of this, Nationalists and Republicans are only willing to accept power-sharing if the agreement includes cross-border institutions, institutions that would signal the inherent unity of Ireland. This demand has traditionally placed the Nationalists and Republicans on a collision course with Unionists. At Sunningdale, for instance, Nationalists insisted that the power-sharing agreement include strong cross-border institutions, despite the fact that this would be rejected by a majority of Unionists. When the Council of Ireland was adopted, SDLP members portrayed it as a victory for their vision. One member argued that the council “fulfilled Wolfe Tone’s desires to break the connection with England and substitute the common name of Irishman for Catholic, Protestant, and dissenter.”40 When it became clear that Unionists could not accept the council, Nationalists

38 39 40

Ibid., 554. See for example Hennessey 2001, 80; Jackson 2003, 272–77; Dixon 2002. Quoted in Jackson 2003, 277. Wolfe Tone led the revolutionary United Irishmen, and was central to the Irish Rebellion of 1798. His Protestant background has made him a symbol of an Irish nationalism that transcends sectarian divides.

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were forced to sacrifice the power-sharing agreement; without crossborder institutions they would undermine their party’s legitimacy.41 Finally, Nationalists and Republicans have been firm in their demands that Britain repudiate any claim that they have made to Northern Ireland, and that the British concretely admit that their interest in maintaining sovereignty over Northern Ireland is illegitimate. In 1993, the SDLP joined Sinn F´ein in demanding that the British government, having declared that “they have no selfish, strategic, political or economic interest in Northern Ireland,” must accept “the principle that the Irish people have a right collectively to self-determination, and that the exercise of this right could take the form of agreed independent structures for the island as a whole.”42 For Nationalists self-determination was to be achieved democratically, but for Republicans this has meant that, as Sinn F´ein leader McGuiness said in 1986, “The war against British rule must continue until freedom is achieved.”43 Britain44 Evidence indicates that, since at least the 1960s, the British have desperately sought a settlement that would allow them to disengage from Northern Ireland and leave governance in the hands of Northern Ireland’s politicians. Northern Ireland has proven extremely costly to the British, so much so that in 1974 Prime Minister Harold Wilson castigated Unionists as “spending their lives sponging on Westminster.” They were nothing more than “thugs dependent on the generosity of the British taxpayer for their livelihoods.”45 Until 1972, the cost of Northern Ireland was felt primarily in the pocketbook, as Britain footed the bill for Northern Ireland’s extensive social services. After 1972, the costs of Northern Ireland came in terms of British lives as well. Following a surge in violence in August 1969, British deployed troops in Northern Ireland in an attempt to keep the peace. First welcomed by many of the communities, British soldiers soon became the target of IRA attacks. In February 1971, the IRA killed the first British 41 42 43 44

45

See e.g., Jackson 2003, 270; Bew 2007, 512; Tonge and Evans 2002, 62–63. The Hume-Adams Agreement, quoted in Hennessey 2001, 76. Quoted in Feeney 2003, 332. To simplify, we will take the British government as acting consistently across Conservative and Labour governments, even though there are some notable differences between the two. Bew 2007, 515.

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soldier in its campaign; in 1997, the Troubles claimed its last British soldier. In order to press the British to leave Northern Ireland the IRA exported their terrorist campaign to the United Kingdom. Among other attacks, a bomb in a Birmingham pub in 1971 killed twenty-one; in 1984, a bomb in Brighton during the Conservative Conference killed five, and almost murdered Margaret Thatcher. Britain had an interest in withdrawing its claims to sovereignty in Northern Ireland. Although it had an interest in settlement, Nationalist and Republican demands were strictly illegitimate. Most notably, British politicians could not withdraw their claims to Northern Ireland without undercutting their legitimacy, either among Unionists or among their own population at home. When the SDLP and Sinn F´ein jointly demanded that the British relinquish their sovereignty claims, for example, Prime Minister John Major claimed it was “simply . . . not a starter.”46 Similarly, even as he sought a deal to withdraw British rule from Ireland, Prime Minister Tony Blair declared that “I am committed to Northern Ireland. . . . My agenda is not a united Ireland. Northern Ireland is a part of the United Kingdom because that is the wish of the majority who live here. The principle of consent is and will be at the heart of my Government’s policies on Northern Ireland. It is the key principle.”47 Thus whatever Britain’s interest, its sovereign claims to Northern Ireland were not to be revoked. Ireland The role of Ireland in the peace process is complex. Unlike Britain, Ireland had no role in the governance of Northern Ireland from 1920 to 1985 (and from that date on, Ireland’s role has been consultative only). But as Chapter 4 demonstrated, Irish nationalists – and therefore the first Irish governments – maintained the partition of Northern Ireland from the republic was illegitimate. It is for this reason that the 1937 Irish Constitution incorporated a nationalist claim to Northern Ireland. Article 2 defined Ireland’s national territory as “the whole island of Ireland, its islands and the territorial seas.” Article 3 asserted the “right of the parliament and Government established by this Constitution to exercise jurisdiction over the whole of that territory.” In the Constitution, then, Ireland had “challenged the right of British sovereignty in Northern Ireland.”48 46 47 48

Quoted in Hennessey 2001, 77. Quoted in Godson 2004, 273. Hennessey 2001, 5.

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In practice, however, Ireland has pursued the “adherence of a 32 county ideal whilst conducting an essentially 26-county based policy.”49 Very rarely has the Republic of Ireland ventured into the affairs of the north. There is wide support for the Northern Ireland Nationalists – some even for the Republicans – but government support of these parties has been limited. Evidence suggests that Ireland has little to no interest in pursuing its irredentist claims; most Republican politicians are not eager to bear the cost of reuniting with the nation to the north. Why then would not Ireland simply abandon its claims to Northern Ireland? Figuring out how to do so, as discussed below, was key to the Good Friday Agreement. If Ireland abandoned its claims to Northern Ireland, then Unionists could be satisfied that their rights to selfdetermination were secure, and that any cross-border institutions were harmless, not the first step toward reunification.50 But as Katy Hayward argues, “To renounce the ideal of Irish unity . . . would sound the death knell for the career of any Irish politician, for it would make a mockery not only of Ireland’s policy towards Northern Ireland but of the Irish nation-state itself.”51 To that end, Ireland has walked a tightrope between accepting the legitimacy of a partitioned island, without subscribing to the idea of two separate nations. Its inability to abandon its own claims to Northern Ireland has undermined settlements, even settlements Ireland had worked hard to ensure. In order to secure a deal at Sunningdale, for instance, the Irish declared in Article 5 of the agreement that “there would be no change in the status of Northern Ireland until a majority of the people of Northern Ireland desired a change in that status.”52 Republicans and Nationalists, however, immediately attacked the statement’s legitimacy, and the government was quickly forced to retract. In an interview immediately after Sunningdale, the Taoiseach Liam Cosgrove argued that “there is no question of changing our Constitution with regard to our claim of sovereignty over all of Ireland.”53 Likewise in the Anglo-Irish Agreement, the Irish insisted on two versions of the introduction. The British one addressed the Government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the Government of the Republic of Ireland, and the Irish one referred to the United Kingdom and Ireland – it did 49 50 51 52 53

Hayward 2004, 22. Bew 2007, 545. Hayward 2004, 22. Quoted in Hennessey 2001, 15. Quoted in ibid., 16.

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not recognize Great Britain as sovereign over Northern Ireland. As Alvin Jackson notes, this reflected “the Irish need to remain within the bounds set by their constitution.”54 Thus each of these parties found themselves highly constrained during negotiations, with a limited set of legitimate settlements. Given this, it is hardly surprising that most attempts to share sovereignty over Northern Ireland have failed; each proposed settlement included some arrangement that a major party could not accept. How was it then that the Belfast Agreements escaped a similar fate? Why was it that these parties, which had rejected so many settlements, were able to divide Northern Ireland in 1998?

constructing divisibility: networks and rhetoric in northern ireland Theorists have suggested several explanations for the Belfast Agreement’s success. Some argue that the agreement’s emphasis on power-sharing institutions was critical. Brendan O’Leary, for example, argues that the Belfast Agreement’s consociational institutions made it “an exemplary constitutional design for an ethno-nationally divided territory over which there were rival claims to its sovereignty, ethnically polarized party and paramilitary blocs, and no reasonable prospects of peaceful integration within one civic nationalist identity.”55 The Belfast Agreement works because it outlines a feasible power-sharing agreement, and at the same time protects the status of the Protestant majority. There is little doubt that the agreement’s power-sharing structures were central to reaching a settlement. Without viable consociational arrangements, Nationalists and Republicans would still claim (rightly so) that they had no voice in Northern Ireland’s governance; without protections for their rights, Unionists were not inclined to share power with their opponents, for fear that they would one day be forced to reunite with the south. Yet although institutional arrangements explain much of the content of the agreement, the timing of the settlement remains a puzzle. The Belfast Agreement was not the first to propose power-sharing arrangements and protections for the Unionists; these features were central to the Sunningdale Agreement as well. Indeed, so close is the content of the 54 55

Jackson 2003, 298. O’Leary 2001, 53. See also Horowitz 2001, although Horowitz believes the powersharing arrangement is riskier than O’Leary suggests.

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1973 and 1998 agreements that some have called Belfast “Sunningdale for slow learners.” If this is the case, it raises the question of why consociational arrangements were acceptable in 1998 and not in 1973? Some point to changes in the international environment to explain this shift. Michael Cox, for example, argues that the end of the Cold War exerted a profound effect on Northern Ireland’s politics. It was only with the collapse of the Soviet Union that Sinn F´ein came to believe that England would leave Ireland, as England no longer saw a united Ireland as a security threat.56 Others argue that the growing strength of the European Union pushed actors toward a settlement.57 The European Union is argued to have had myriad effects on the peace process. In the Republic of Ireland, which joined the EEC in 1972, it created a middle class who were more interested in European integration than Irish unity, and willing to trade the latter for the former.58 For all of the parties involved, it loosened the definition of territorial sovereignty, creating space for the joint sovereignty arrangements that the agreement embodies.59 The EU also redefined Nationalist ideas of self-determination. With less emphasis on territorial sovereignty, Nationalists could conceive of self-determination in a way that did not involve separation from the United Kingdom or unification with the Republic of Ireland.60 These are important explanations, and are a nice corrective to those that see the Northern Ireland conflict as only local and parochial. But they are in and of themselves incomplete. What is needed along with these broad structural changes is an understanding of shifts at the microlevel of bargaining. Until the very day the agreement was signed, it was not clear that any of the actors would ultimately find legitimate ground on which to settle. Whatever the changing notions of nationalism provoked by the EU, Nationalists and Republicans still demanded recognition of Ireland’s national unity, whereas Unionists still refused any agreement that did not acknowledge the principle of consent. Despite the end of the Cold War, the British still showed no sign of retracting their sovereign claims to Northern Ireland, even if those claims were only symbolic. How then did British, Irish, and Northern Irish politicians manage to bridge these divides? Drawing from legitimation theory, I argue that two 56 57 58 59 60

Cox 2006, 432–33. See e.g., ibid., Meehan 2000; Ruane and Todd 2002. Cox 2006, 437. Meehan 2000; Ruane and Todd 2002. Ruane and Todd 2003, 129.

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factors were central to the 1998 negotiation’s success. First, I argue that the negotiations were aided by the presence of politicians who held ties to both political moderates and radicals, who would otherwise undermine the bargaining process. Second, the Belfast Agreement succeeded because actors could legitimate the settlement with ambiguous language, rhetoric that resonated with multiple audiences and thus created space for a negotiated settlement.61

the power of position: brokers and the belfast agreement One key to negotiating indivisible conflict is to locate bridging actors, or what sociological network theorists call brokers – actors with network ties to each coalition involved in a conflict.62 The term broker might suggest a neutral mediator, someone who stands apart from the conflict. In contrast, here a broker refers to a specific network position – brokers are defined as actors who maintain ties with other actors who would otherwise remain unconnected.63 Brokers are conduits, holding relationships with actors who would otherwise remain isolated from others in a political network. In Northern Ireland during the mid-1980s and early 1990s, two key brokers emerged within domestic political networks. Trimble, who from 1995 to 2005 led the Ulster Unionist Party and was a key participant in the Good Friday talks, held a brokerage position. When Trimble was elected to head the UUP in 1995, conventional wisdom held him “as a hardliner and his election brought an almost audible collective groan from the British and Irish political establishment.”64 Trimble indeed had strong ties with hard-line Ulster parties, including Loyalist paramilitaries. Jackson notes that “he has regularly sought to build a constituency with the radical right of Ulster Unionism.”65 Trimble’s relationship with Ulster’s right began early. As a young man he joined the Orange Order (the Loyal Orange Lodge 726, known as the 61

62

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A number of scholars note the importance of ambiguity in securing the success of the Belfast Agreement. For a selection see Dixon 2002; Ruane and Todd 2003, 134; Tonge and Evans 2002; McGovern 2004. For a critique of the agreement’s ambiguity, see Aughey 2002; Dingley 2005. For a discussion of brokers, see Gould and Fernandez 1989; Burt 1992, 2004; Padgett and Ansell 1993. See e.g., Burt 2004; Burt 1992; Padgett and Ansell 1993. Hennesey 2001, 97. Jackson 2003, 310.

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Bangor Abbey). He was a vocal opponent of the Sunningdale Agreements, as well as of the Anglo-Irish Agreement of 1985, and central to coordinating protests in the wake of both agreements. In July 1995, just before the talks with Irish nationalists were slated to begin, he burnished his profile as a supporter of radical Unionism by leading mass protests against the rerouting of the Orange Marches.66 His actions there, and at another march in 1996, suggested his relationship with hard-liners remained strong throughout negotiations. Those who supported the negotiations with Nationalists, such as Hugo Young, a journalist at the Guardian, were dismayed: “He seemed scarcely to be trying to defuse the tribalism of the Orange marchers.”67 Yet Trimble’s ties stretched well beyond coalitions of radical Unionism, and indeed connected him, not only with the moderate Irish and British political establishment, but with Irish Nationalist parties as well. In the 1970s, while a member of the hard-line Vanguard Party (which had split off from the UUP to protest Sunningdale), Trimble participated in backchannel negotiations with the SDLP, in hopes of establishing a powersharing agreement between Unionists and Nationalists. The meetings laid the foundation for a long history of transactions between Trimble and the SDLP’s leader, John Hume.68 Once elected to the head of the UUP, Trimble also worked to build ties with the Irish government, making his first visit to Dublin Castle in 1995. Whereas Trimble bridged radical Unionist parties and Loyalist paramilitaries with moderate British politicians and Irish Nationalists, John Hume brokered a relationship between radical Irish Republicans and the British and Irish mainstream.69 As a founding member of the SDLP, and its leader from 1979 to 2001, Hume and his party were strongly integrated into moderate Northern Irish politics. The SDLP, although a nationalist party, embraced a nonsectarian, nonviolent approach to reform. Hume spent most of his career as a Westminster MP, and as head of his party had built strong ties with British and Northern Irish politicians interested in negotiating a settlement to the Northern Irish conflict. Hume and his party were integrally involved with the Sunningdale 66

67

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These are annual marches made by the Orange Orders to commemorate William of Orange’s victory in the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. “Leaders succumbed to baser instincts of North’s tribalism,” Irish Times, July 17, 1996, 12. On Trimble’s nods to the Orange Orders during the talks see also Dixon 2004, 472. See e.g., Godson 2004, 50–59. On John Hume and his political position see Cunningham 1997; Dixon 2002, 728; Taylor 1997, 304–5: Hennessey 2001, 33.

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Conference of 1973, and then with the Vanguard Unionists’ attempt to build a voluntary power-sharing coalition from 1974 to 1976. In the early 1980s, the SDLP was in constant contact with the Irish government as it negotiated the Anglo-Irish agreement. Despite his moderate leanings, Hume also had clear nationalist credentials, which gave him unique standing with politicians in Sinn F´ein and the IRA. He led protests against British policies in the 1970s, and emerged as one of the leading critics of the Special Powers Act, which had long allowed Britain to trammel civil rights in Northern Ireland. To strengthen his ties with Northern Ireland’s Republicans, in 1988 Hume initiated a series of talks with Gerry Adams, head of Sinn F´ein, with the goal of building a common platform between the two parties.70 Although the dialogue collapsed early on, subsequent discussions produced an agreement between the coalitions in 1993.71 By the 1990s, Hume was perceived as a broker, with his various ties he could be considered, as Adams said “all things to all men.”72 Both Trimble and Hume provided a link between moderates and their respective radical parties. This brokerage position was critical in effecting the 1998 settlement. Trimble and Hume’s positions as brokers gave them the power to bring rejectionists to the bargaining table. Unlike their predecessors, Trimble and Hume’s ties gave them social capital, an ability to legitimate their positions to otherwise opposing parties. Their peers recognized the importance of this brokerage position. Although outwardly dismayed at Trimble’s election, reports suggest that then British Prime Minister Major saw promise in Trimble’s position as a broker. Major remarked that with Trimble “being on the right wing of the Ulster Unionists, he’ll be able to make them agree to things which his predecessor couldn’t.”73 Trimble, the British thought, could avoid the problems of “another Faulkner” – suggesting that the leader of the UUP who had negotiated the Sunningdale Agreement had lacked the position to carry the settlement forward. Even Trimble’s most fervent opponents – the leaders of Sinn F´ein – recognized that he held the balance between moderates and hard-liners, a position that made him a “formidable politician.”74 70

71 72 73

74

On the initial discussions between the SDLP and Sinn F´ein see Taylor 1997, 304–5; Jackson 2003, 301. On the Hume-Adams agreement see Jackson 2003, 303–5; Dixon 2002, 733. Quoted in Hennessey 2001, 33. Major is quoted as saying this in Woodrow Wyatt’s Diary on September 23, 1995. Quoted in Godson 2004, 157. Ibid., 177.

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Within the SDLP, there was some concern that maintaining ties with Sinn F´ein might eventually increase Republicans’ power, and decrease that of the Nationalists; some were even concerned that Hume was “elevating Sinn F´ein/PIRA to a position of respectability that they do not deserve.”75 Nevertheless moderates, even those within the British government and Unionist leadership, recognized it was important that the SDLP “publicly take a more hard-line republican stance than it privately favoured in order to show the republican movement that it was part of a wider pannationalist movement which would champion its cause, use its influence to achieve some republican goals and not leave the movement isolated.”76 In sum, Trimble and Hume used their brokerage position to bring what were once rejectionist coalitions to the bargaining table; the radicals in each of their networks perceived these brokers as legitimate interlocuters. At the same time, Trimble and Hume were acceptable to moderate voices in the British, Irish, and Northern Irish political mainstream. As negotiations moved along, moreover, new brokers emerged. With their strengthening ties to the SDLP, to Unionists, and to the British and Irish governments, for example, both Adams and McGuinness – once considered Sinn F´ein radicals – could serve as brokers between the mainstream and radical fringe of republicanism.77 As one scholar argues, “The credibility of politicians with ‘hardline’ or ‘militant’ reputations, such as those of David Trimble and Martin McGuinness, can also act as a smokescreen behind which pragmatic compromises are made. Without this trust and credibility as hardliners they may have been unable to win such support for the peace process.”78 Although their positions were powerful, bringing radicals to the bargaining table was not enough to ensure a settlement. What enabled the Belfast Agreement to succeed was not only the presence of brokers; it was the ambiguity of its language that allowed all sides to view the agreement as legitimate.

the ambiguity of belfast Scholars of the Belfast Agreement are united in their belief that the settlement is extremely ambiguous: “The wording of the Agreement was

75 76 77 78

Quoted in Bew 2007, 544. Dixon 2002, 728; Finlay 1998, 277–8. See e.g., Dixon 2002; McGovern 2004. Dixon 2002, 734.

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deliberately ambiguous, and it appears that governments encouraged different parties to believe that different interpretations of the wording were valid.”79 For some analysts, the ambiguity of agreement is deeply problematic. At best, ambiguity has rendered the agreement extremely unstable, producing unmet expectations and charges of hypocrisy. At worst, ambiguity has fatally tainted the peace process. Politicians drove the process forward through lying and manipulation, which has not only damaged prospects for a true peace, but undermined the very foundations of Northern Ireland’s democracy.80 Here I follow those who argue the Belfast Agreement was constructively ambiguous,: as one government official put it, “ambiguity was the only way to keep the boat afloat.”81 As Paul Dixon argues, “The ambiguity of the key documents of the peace process – the Downing Street Declaration, the Framework Documents, the Good Friday Agreement itself – could be interpreted in various ways to suit the receiving audience.”82 But the agreement’s success did not lie in deception; it was not that each of the coalitions came away from the agreement believing they were getting something that they were not.83 Rather, the ambiguity of the agreement’s language allowed each of the parties to claim the settlement was legitimate, and perhaps more importantly, portray it as legitimate to their relevant constituencies.84 Three areas of ambiguity were critical in ensuring the agreement’s legitimacy. First, in order for the agreement to succeed, all sides had to believe that their definition of national self-determination had been enshrined in the document. This presented a problem, however; as highlighted above, the major parties had utterly irreconcilable claims about how national self-determination should be defined. For the Nationalists, Republicans, and Irish government, an agreement that acknowledged the presence of two nations in Ireland – an Irish and a British nation, or Catholic and Protestant ethnic groups – was entirely illegitimate. 79 80

81 82 83

84

Dingley 2005, 3. For a strong version of this argument see Dingley 2005. Dingley argues that “clever word games and spin” have created “and, in some ways, worsened the situation” than had existed before the Belfast Agreement. See Dingley 2005, 1. For a more moderate version of this argument, see Dixon 2002. Dixon sees the benefits of the ambiguity, but still argues that a more honest and democratic approach should be sought. Daily Telegraph, May 8, 2000. Dixon 2002, 736. The one area in which there was clear disagreement about procedures was in the decommissioning of arms. See e.g., Ruane and Todd 2003, 134; Tonge and Evans 2002.

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National self-determination, then, must be captured through statements and institutions of unity, the idea that Ireland was and had always been a united nation.85 In contrast, Unionists defined national self-determination as recognition of their distinct identity in Northern Ireland, and of their continued union – politically and ethnically – with the United Kingdom. For them, self-determination could only be ensured through the concept of consent, the idea that there would be no unification of Ireland unless a majority of those living in Northern Ireland agreed to the arrangement.86 As Paul Bew argues, it was necessary “to encourage republicans to believe that a settlement which was transitional to Irish unity was close at hand, while encouraging unionists that the process would guarantee their place in the United Kingdom.”87 How the agreement accomplished this was to recognize simultaneously that Northern Ireland should be allowed to choose its own political system (the principle of consent), while calling for cross-border institutions that symbolized the unity of the Irish nation. In legitimating the agreement, Unionists point to the fact that the principle of consent had been clearly formalized. The agreement recognized “the legitimacy of whatever choice is freely exercised by a majority of people of Northern Ireland with regard to its status, whether they prefer to continue to support the Union with Great Britain or a sovereign united Ireland.”88 Northern Ireland would thus continue its union with Britain so long as a majority wished it so. As John Taylor, then deputy leader of the UUP, stated, “In my opinion, the Agreement is a defeat for republicanism because I believe that the Union is now more secure. . . . It hasn’t been touched. Northern Ireland is part of the United Kingdom and now accepted by Dublin for the first time.”89 For Nationalists, Republicans, and the Irish government, the central legitimating feature of the agreement was language that recognized Irish national unity, particularly that which referred to the North-South Ministerial Council.90 Although each of these parties had recognized the

85 86 87

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Hayward 2004; Tonge and Evans 2002, 62–63. See e.g., Hennessey 2001, 222. Bew 2007, 545. Bew then goes on to argue that this would be practically impossible. I argue here that the Belfast Agreement succeeded because it did just that. The Good Friday Agreement, Constitutional Issues, Article 1, Section (i). Document located on the Republic of Ireland’s Web site, http://foreignaffairs.gov.ie/home/ index.aspx?id=347. Accessed May 29, 2009. Quoted in Taylor 1999, 251. See Taylor 1999, 373.

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Unionist principle of consent – the agreement even promised that the Irish government would incorporate consent into their constitution – cross-border institutions embodied the principles of unity. By accepting the agreement, Republicans and Nationalists had established institutions that “strengthen, not weaken, the bonds that unite the Irish nation, North and South. They declare openly the desire for unity, and the democratic, conciliatory, and non-threatening spirit by which we wish to achieve it.”91 Nationalists and Republicans, therefore, could accept the agreement as legitimate because it recognized the unity of the Irish nation. A second area in which the agreement was constructively ambiguous was in dealing with Ireland’s and Britain’s sovereign claims to Northern Ireland. Key to getting Unionists to accept an agreement was that Ireland rescind its claims to sovereignty over Northern Ireland, claims that were written into the Irish Constitution. Without this, Unionists would accept cross-border institutions as legitimate. Likewise, if Nationalists and Republicans were to accept the Belfast Agreement, Britain would have to retract its sovereignty claims. The entire basis of the Nationalist and Republican identity was bound to the charge that a British presence in Northern Ireland was strictly illegitimate. But this presented a serious problem: even if it were in their interest to do so, neither Ireland nor Britain could rescind their sovereign claims without sacrificing their own legitimacy. Once again, the use of ambiguous language was critical to building room for a settlement. At the center of this agreement was the idea of balanced constitutional change. Ireland would modify its constitution and remove its irredentist claims if Britain would take similar legislative action. On the surface, the agreement ensured that each of these changes was made. Ireland did indeed revise Articles 2 and 3 of its constitution, and Britain repealed the Government Act of 1920, which appeared to underpin Britain’s claim to Northern Ireland. But the way in which each state modified its claims left quite a bit open to interpretation, and thus allowed each side to portray their actions as legitimate. The Irish, Nationalists, and Republicans, for example, acknowledged that Ireland was governed by two political systems, and that it disavowed any violent action to upend the status quo. Article 2, however, continued to note the unity of the Irish nation: “It is the entitlement and birthright of every person born in the island of Ireland, which includes its islands and seas, 91

Speech by An Taoiseach at the Fianna Fail Arbour Hill Commemoration, April 26, 1998. http://foreignaffairs.gov.ie/informationdisplay.asp?ID=252. Accessed May 29, 2009.

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to be part of the Irish nation.”92 Moreover, Ireland stated its continued interest in uniting the Irish nation: “It is the firm will of the Irish nation, in harmony and friendship, to unite all the people who share the territory of the island of Ireland, in all the diversity of their identities and traditions, recognising that a united Ireland shall be brought about only by peaceful means.”93 According to Irish, Republican, and Nationalist rhetoric, in signing the agreement they had not abandoned their commitment to a unified Irish nation – something which would be thoroughly illegitimate. Rather, they had committed themselves to democratic methods of unification. In doing so, they had ensured the development of cross-border governmental institutions, and had taken the first step towards a united sovereign Ireland.94 Britain was perhaps even more ambiguous in explaining changes in the meaning of its sovereign change. In the Belfast Agreement, Britain stated that “The Government of Ireland is repealed; and this Act shall have effect notwithstanding on any other previous enactment.”95 Because the government of Ireland stated Britain’s sovereign claims, its revocation allowed Republicans and Nationalists to claim that they had achieved their goal: that the British were indeed out of Ireland and “effectively out of the equation,” as Prime Minister Ahern put it.96 But the British and Unionists claimed that the repeal of the act was legitimate precisely because it had no bearing on Britain’s sovereign claims. As Trimble argued in an editorial, the bonds between Northern Ireland and Britain rested not on the Government of Ireland Act, but on the Act of Union of 1800. As long as that act was not repealed, Britain’s place as sovereign was assured, and the Belfast Agreement was legitimate.97 A third example of constructive ambiguity deals not with shared sovereignty or self-determination, but with issues of violence and armed struggle. One central problem during the talks was the extent to which the paramilitaries – particularly the IRA – had to renounce violence before they entered the talks. In considering their options, Sinn F´ein and the IRA faced a legitimacy problem. On the one hand, if the IRA did not abandon its terrorist activities, then Sinn F´ein could not legitimately sit at 92 93 94 95 96 97

Article 2, Irish Constitution. Article 3, Irish Constitution. See Hayward 2004; Tonge and Evans 2002, 62–63; Hennessey 2001, 251–52. The Good Friday Agreement, Annex 1, Article 2. Godson 2004, 343. “At long last Dublin recognises British territorial sovereignty,” Irish Times, May 18, 1998, 14.

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the bargaining table, as it would be undermining the democratic process it committed to upon entering negotiations. On the other hand, a complete abandonment of violence would mean Sinn F´ein’s delegitimation: it would lose control of the paramilitary groups and thus be of little worth in the peace process.98 As with the other issues, violence was dealt with through ambiguous language. To maintain its legitimacy, Sinn F´ein and the IRA used rhetoric that both promised it had given up its terrorist activities to a more moderate audience, but assured its radical followers it was still committed to armed struggle. The most interesting example of this is the IRA’s program of TUAS. What this acronym stood for was deliberately vague. To its Unionist, British, and Irish mainstream audience, TUAS meant the Totally UnArmed Struggle, proof that the IRA had indeed abandoned terrorist activities and was participating fully in the peace process. To its paramilitary followers, TUAS had a different definition, Tactical Use of Armed Struggle, implying that the IRA was still true to its commitment to throw the British out by force. As one journalist noted, “The ambiguous acronym suited the republican leadership, which was juggling with two audiences.”99 In sum, the ambiguous language of the agreement allowed all sides to portray the Belfast Agreement as legitimate. Again the issue here is not one of deception. Most Republicans and Nationalists do not believe North-South unity is coming any time soon, if at all (and many in the republic would rather not see it happen in the foreseeable future). But the language of the document allows them to accept the outcome as legitimate because it accepts the principle of unity. Similarly, whether Britain’s sovereignty is preserved through the Act of Union or through the Government of Ireland Act makes no shred of difference in practical arrangements. Yet the symbolic language of the Belfast Agreement lets Unionists claim the union has been preserved. There have been – and there will continue to be – serious disputes that threaten the stability of the Belfast Agreement. Unionists and Nationalists/ Republicans continue to clash over issues such as the composition of the police forces, how and when justice powers will be devolved to Northern Ireland’s executive, and questions of economic development. Splinter groups, such as the Real IRA, continue their attempts to provoke violence. 98 99

See e.g., Taylor 1997, 338–39. The Source, August 8, 2001.

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No doubt that these and other issues will provoke moments of crisis for the power-sharing government. That being said, after almost one hundred years, the fundamental issues of shared sovereignty over Northern Ireland seem to be resolved. By bringing in actors with the social capital to make the deal, and allowing them to use ambiguous language that all would find legitimate, Northern Ireland now seems a divisible territory.

lessons for jerusalem? policy implications of the northern ireland peace process Although Northern Ireland has been reconstructed as divisible, Jerusalem has continued to appear nonnegotiable. In 2001, with Ariel Sharon’s election, Israelis signaled an increasingly hard-line position against Palestinian terrorist action and Arafat’s Palestinian government; this position did not soften under the government of Ehud Olmert or with the election of Benjamin Netanyahu in 2009. It might be argued that progress towards peace has been made in Israel’s unilateral withdrawal from Gaza and the construction of a security fence, which is designed to separate Israel from the West Bank territories. With these actions, one could argue that Israel is implicitly setting the boundaries of an autonomous Palestinian state.100 Nevertheless, there is continued controversy over the viability of the territories on the Palestinian side of the fence. More importantly, the fence does not address the question of Jerusalem’s status and leaves the city’s eastern Palestinian neighborhoods within its boundaries. There is little sign of flexibility in Palestinian politics either. Hope of Palestinian moderation increased in 2004, when Arafat’s death brought Mahmoud Abbas to power. As described in earlier chapters, Abbas has long been considered a moderate, a participant in talks with Yossi Beilin in the 1990s as well as in the Oslo talks that followed. However, whatever Abbas’s personal preferences are, he entered the government as a leader without much of a constituency for peace. Abbas’s flexibility, moreover, only decreased with Hamas’s parliamentary victory in February 2006. Although some projected that Hamas would moderate its ideology, particularly when faced with harsh sanctions, there have been few signs that this is the case. Hamas has been willing to issue mild assurances to respect 100

For a discussion of the security fence and its implications for the peace process, see Gavrilis 2004.

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the peace process, but consistently “affirms that resistance in all its forms to the occupation is a legitimate right.”101 What lessons from Northern Ireland, if any, can be applied to the case of Jerusalem? Can the political processes at play in Northern Ireland provide any insight into conflict resolution in Jerusalem? Social science predictions should not be pushed too far. No conflicts are entirely comparable. Jerusalem and Northern Ireland are territories with very different histories and with even more contrasting contemporary environments. It matters, for example, that although Northern Ireland is surrounded by a zone of perpetual peace in Europe, Jerusalem lies in a region of ongoing conflict and instability. That being said, legitimation theory suggests four limited policy prescriptions can be drawn from the analysis of the Northern Ireland conflict presented here. First, to negotiate Jerusalem, it is important to change political networks, not just modify the issues on the bargaining table. This stands in contrast to many of the policy prescriptions put forth on Jerusalem. Many scholars and activists working on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, for example, argue that key to dividing Jerusalem is finding a settlement that fits everyone’s interests. As Chapter 6 described, policy makers have proposed a number of ways to physically divide Jerusalem, ranging from the Al-Quds/Yerushalayim settlement, to parsing the city into various ethnic boroughs. Analysts put forward similar creative solutions to the issue of the Temple Mount/Noble Sanctuary.102 The theory here suggests that these innovative solutions, however clever, will not succeed in the absence of structural change; as long as political networks remain polarized, there is little chance that these solutions will be considered legitimate. Arguably when negotiating an indivisible issue, the content of the specific settlement might be less important than who is doing the negotiating. In the Northern Ireland case, for example, there was little difference between the Sunningdale Agreement of 1973 and the Belfast Agreement of 1998: both involved power-sharing and cross-border institutions. Between 1973 and 1998, one thing that did change in the Northern Ireland conflict was the type of actors negotiating the settlement. When

101

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“Palestinians okay coalition. Palestinians’ acceptance of a power-sharing deal ends Hamas’ monopoly.” Los Angeles Times, March 18, 2007, A8. For accounts see Wasserstein 2002, 290–5; Klein 2003, 32–40; Rabinovich 2004; Beilin 2004; Klein 2001, 300–9; Lustick 2004.

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brokers such as Trimble and Hume entered into negotiations, they proved capable of speaking to a wide audience, even to those coalitions that rejected compromise. Unfortunately at the moment, these actors seem absent in Israeli and Palestinian politics. This is not to say that there are not moderates willing to negotiate on both sides. During his tenure as prime minister, Olmert suggested a willingness to bargain. At the same time, Abbas reiterated his commitment to final status negotiations. What both of these actors lacked, however, are solid ties with rejectionists. Olmert fared somewhat better than Abbas – his criticisms of Camp David had won him some adherents among the hard-liners in his government – but still he lacked ties with the religious nationalists blocking negotiations on Jerusalem. Abbas has failed to build ties with Hamas; without these ties, Abbas will have little chance of legitimating negotiations to this rejectionist party.103 This raises the question of how it is that brokers might be made. At times, the appearance of brokers seems more about luck than policy. Trimble, for example, had cultivated ties to the radical Orange parties all of his life. There was no concerted effort made to mobilize him as a broker; his election to head the UUP provided an unexpected opportunity to move the peace process forward. That being said, brokerage positions can be constructed as well. Hume had Nationalist credentials, but it was his strategic meetings with Adams in the 1980s that cemented his ties with Republican coalitions. If Israeli and Palestinian leaders are to gain legitimacy at the bargaining table, they should seek out similar ties with radicals in their own societies (or find other actors that are willing to do so). Second, if negotiations are to be successful, it is important not to mistake brokers for moderates. From a legitimation theory perspective, one serious problem in the Jerusalem conflict is that officials in Israel and the United States have placed a premium on negotiating only with moderates, with those actors who have clearly denounced violence. In 2007, for example, President George W. Bush praised Abbas as “a voice that is a reasonable voice amongst the extremists in your neighborhood”; he further aimed to strengthen Abbas and Fatah so they would “be strengthened to the point where they can lead the Palestinians in a different direction, with a different hope.”104 103 104

See e.g., Gunning 2004, 2008; Milton-Edwards and Crooke 2004. “Strategy for Propping Up Abbas. Bush, Olmert Agree on Joint Effort to Aid Palestinian Leader,” Washington Post, June 20, 2007, A11.

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The policies described above are “predicated on the notion that Hamas must be neutralised or eradicated for peace to work.”105 It is completely understandable why Israel and the United States would prefer to negotiate with moderates like Abbas and avoid bargaining with extremists like Hamas. Hamas has refused to recognize Israel’s right to exist as a precondition for entrance into peace talks. With its continued support of terrorist activities, members of Hamas would be an untrustworthy negotiating partner, likely to turn to violence in the course of reaching a settlement. From a political standpoint, it would be suicidal for any Israeli politician to reach out to Hamas, and for many Israelis from a moral standpoint it would be repugnant. But although negotiating with Hamas might be impossible, this book suggests that negotiating only with moderates is dangerously ineffective. Without Hamas on board, any agreement reached with Abbas and Fatah is unlikely to carry any legitimacy. If anything, a settlement without Hamas is likely to make the situation worse, further driving extremists away from the negotiating table. There may be some room to maneuver, however. Hamas, scholars have argued, is not a monolithic organization.106 Pragmatists in Hamas have pushed for cease-fires, more power-sharing between Hamas and Fatah, and even negotiation with Israel.107 It is these pragmatists who may serve as potential brokers. With their ties to extremists, Hamas’s pragmatists might be able to negotiate a legitimate settlement to the Jerusalem conflict. According to Jeroen Gunning, recent polls suggest that Hamas could provide a constituency for peace: 40 percent of those who voted for Hamas in 2006 support the peace process, and an earlier poll suggested that 60 percent of Hamas supporters supported a two-state solution.108 Policy makers in Israel and the United States should look for ways to bring these pragmatists to the bargaining table. But this brings us to a third policy prescription: any attempt to cultivate brokers must be done carefully. In the Israeli-Palestinian case, too much support for a broker might unintentionally undermine that actor’s legitimacy in the eyes of his constituency. For example, if the United States were to embrace a Hamas pragmatist as a moderate, this might undercut his or her brokerage position. As Ronald R. Krebs writes in his analysis of political moderates, “Explicit or even implicit support from

105 106 107 108

Gunning 2008; Milton-Edwards and Crooke 2004, 9–51. Gunning 2008; Mishal 2003. Gunning 2004, 233; Mishal 2003; Mishal and Sela 2000, 169–71. Ibid.

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the United States has been the kiss of death for politicians in the Arab and Muslim world.”109 Instead, if brokers are to be used in the Jerusalem conflict, they must be allowed to secure their legitimacy with extremists, however unsavory that might be. During the negotiations leading up to the Belfast Agreement, the British government and many Unionists turned a blind eye as the IRA and Sinn F´ein cultivated their ties with extremists. As Dixon reports, “The British government privately recognised its interest in helping Adams, but to have publicly declared this would have embarrassed the Sinn F´ein leader and been counter-productive.” Instead, the British sought ways to “help Adams carry the hard men in the republican movement with him.”110 The fear was, as Sir Patrick Mayhew was reported as saying, that too close of a relationship with the British would lead the Republican to “be replaced by someone much harder.”111 To this end, British and Unionist officials tolerated the ambiguity of IRA actions. As John Major reported, if the IRA were to maintain its legitimacy, then “an offer of peace needed to be accompanied by violence to show their volunteers that they were not surrendering.”112 When Adams appeared at a funeral carrying the coffin of an IRA bomber, the British and Unionists expressed outrage, yet quietly acknowledged that “it would have been disastrous for the peace process had Adams not carried the coffin.”113 As Albert Reynolds, then Irish Prime Minister stated, if Adams had declined he would have lost legitimacy, “and it would have been pointless talking to somebody who had lost that influence.”114 Similar accommodations were made for Unionist politicians as well. Republicans and Nationalists were furious that the marches at Dumcree were allowed to proceed in 1995 and 1996, and that Trimble had stirred up religious fervor. But they also recognized that in doing so, Trimble solidified his standing among radicals in his own party, and helped strengthen the legitimacy of the settlement. Finally once at the bargaining table, brokers and other politicians must be allowed to deal in constructive ambiguity. In Jerusalem, this means reintroducing ambiguity into two critical areas: the geography of Jerusalem and the meaning of sovereignty over the Temple Mount/Noble 109 110 111

112 113 114

Krebs 2008. See also Chowdhury and Krebs 2008. Dixon 2002, 730. “Mayhew quoted as saying Adams must have London’s Support,” Irish Times, January 9, 1995, 6. Quoted in Dixon 2002, 728. Quoted in Taylor 1997, 338. Quoted in ibid., 339.

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Sanctuary. Scholars have long argued that if Jerusalem’s borders remain ambiguous, that this might create room for settlement. In particular, the Palestinian areas of Abu Dis could be defined as East Jerusalem and recognized as Al-Quds. This would create room for Palestinians to claim a capital in East Jerusalem while still letting Israelis maintain that they have not negotiated a division of the city as reunited in 1967. As argued in the last chapter, this solution has become more difficult as maximalists on both sides have gained ground and demanded the entirety of Jerusalem. Brokers, however, might have the social capital to reintroduce this ambiguous idea, and lay the ground for a two-capital solution. Another area in which ambiguity is critical is in the Temple Mount/ Noble Sanctuary arrangement. At present, there is a de facto division of control at the site, with Muslims maintaining religious control over the site, even though the territory is under Israeli sovereignty.115 The issue, as described in Chapter 6, is that both sides now demand exclusive political sovereignty, making shared sovereignty over the area impossible. Policy makers now need to consider how both sides might claim sovereignty over the Temple Mount/Noble Sanctuary simultaneously, without undermining the legitimate claims of each other. One possibility might be a division of functional control at the site, with Israelis controlling some administrative tasks and the Palestinians others. Another option might be to reintroduce the idea of extraterritorial control: Israel could claim it has sovereignty over the Mount, because it has sovereignty over the city, whereas Palestinians could contend that any Muslim sacred space by law belongs to them. Policy makers could also consider reintroducing the divide between political and religious sovereignty, in which case Israel could claim sovereignty over the territory of the sacred space, without claiming political control of the sacred space itself. Whether this would be possible would require not only the efforts of brokers, but the inclusion of religious leaders as well. Religious leaders, who were often ignored during the Camp David process, might be able to introduce symbolic resources that justify the sharing of sacred space, and the separation of political and religious sovereignty.116 In doing so, these symbolic resources could be used to legitimate joint ownership of the sacred sites, and a division of the Holy City. 115

116

See Wasserstein 2002, 313–17, 342–43; Klein 2003; Rabinovich 2004, 123–80; Beilin 2004, 147–74; Klein 2001; Lustick 2004; Quandt 2005, 321–84. For a discussion of the importance of including religious leaders see Hassner 2003.

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conclusion Despite the intractability of indivisible territory, there is reason for optimism. As seen in the Northern Ireland conflict, over time territory can be reconstructed as divisible. When brokers are available, negotiations are more likely to appear as legitimate to rejectionist elements. Ambiguous language, moreover, can create common ground on core principles where actors were once locked into irreconcilable positions. Creating these conditions is not easy. In the case of Northern Ireland, it took twenty-five years of almost constant negotiations to produce the capacity for settlement. Although the process is arduous, the payoff is monumental: Northern Ireland now appears divisible.

8 Conclusion

The central question of this book is how it is territory becomes indivisible: why, under some conditions, are actors unable to divide territory through partition, compensation, shared sovereignty, and other mechanisms of division? I have argued that far from being an inherent characteristic of territory, indivisibility is a political construct. Territory, ideally, is divisible, but claims to Jerusalem, Ulster, Kashmir, and Kosovo appear irreconcilable both to observers and antagonists. The puzzle of this book is thus one of construction: how do actors come to represent territory in ways that its indivisibility becomes a social fact? Whether territory becomes indivisible depends on how actors legitimate their claims to territory. I defined legitimation strategies as rhetoric that employs public and recognized reasons to justify claims to an issue. The legitimation process described here is strategic: actors choose legitimation strategies designed to advance their own political interests. Legitimation strategies can build support at home; by making legitimate claims, politicians hope to secure domestic support for their position. Politicians also use legitimation strategies for rhetorical coercion; they will use rhetoric that their opponent must accept as legitimate, or else risk undercutting their own position. It is difficult, for example, for a U.S. politician to stand against the support of a democratic ally, such as Georgia, even if that ally might be at fault. To do so would seem to undermine the edict that liberal democracies must support each other. Politicians also use legitimation strategies to feign inflexibility at the bargaining table. There are benefits to tying one’s hands, and what better way to do so than to

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take a principled stand?1 In each of these cases, rhetoric is designed to further politicians’ agendas both at home and abroad. Once used, however, legitimation strategies have autonomous and unanticipated structural effects on the bargaining process. These structural dynamics – what I call switching effects – are responsible for constructing territory as indivisible. Depending on how legitimation strategies resonate with existing networks, they can mobilize some coalitions, polarize others and, perhaps most significantly, even create new actors at the bargaining table. It is this process of creating and destroying ties that constructs territory as indivisible. During the switching process, legitimation strategies either build ties between coalitions, and allow each side to recognize the legitimacy of each other’s claims, or else lock actors into bargaining positions where they are unable to recognize the legitimacy of their opponent’s demands. When the latter happens, actors come to negotiations with incompatible claims, constructing the territory as indivisible. Indivisibility is very much political. Its existence is contingent on claims made during the bargaining process. This observation seems to go against our intuitive understanding of indivisibility. If indivisibility is a construct, why do conflicts in Ulster, Jerusalem, Kashmir, and Kosovo appear so intractable, their indivisibility inherent to the territory? I have argued that although indivisibility is constructed, this does not mean indivisible territory is infinitely or immediately malleable. Indivisibility only occurs under extreme structural constraints. When territory is indivisible, this means that politicians’ networks have become extremely limited, leaving them without the resources needed to legitimate the division of territory. Under these structural conditions, a politician is likely to be punished if he deviates from his position. If an actor has only one single basis to make a legitimate claim, new strategies will appear illegitimate to opponents and supporters alike, and incur high political costs. That being said, network theory also suggests possible paths back to divisible territory. If territory is to become divisible, then this requires dramatic changes to the political landscape. Most notably, to settle indivisible conflict requires locating bridging actors, or what sociological network theorists call brokers – actors with network ties to each coalition involved in a conflict.2 Building bridging actors is not an easy proposition. 1 2

Schelling 1960. For a discussion of brokers, see Gould and Fernandez 1989; Burt 1992, 2004; Padgett and Ansell 1993.

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It requires building network ties among groups that refuse to recognize the legitimacy of each other’s claims, possibly even of each other’s existence. There are two ways brokers may be created. First, new networks may emerge after an exogenous shock to the political system. By sweeping away the remnants of polarized political structures, one hopes to create and institutionalize ties that cut across coalitions. For example, both international and domestic audiences hoped that the downfall of Slobodan Milosevic’s regime would create space for new political parties, coalitions that bridged once polarized ethnic groups. In a similar vein, international observers hoped that Yasser Arafat’s death might bring to the fore moderates more willing to negotiate with Israel. There is a danger, however, in relying on exogenous shocks to create brokers: war might destroy networks, but it does not construct new ones. The political situation in Kosovo today suggests the hazards of relying on external transformations. Very few political networks exist between Serb and Muslim Kosovars, and those that do are weak. In the wake of this persistent polarization, there are ominous signs of new nationalist conflict; Muslim Kosovar leaders have succeeded in their pursuit of an independent Kosovo, yet it still seems that this policy is irreconcilable with Serbian claims.3 Nor did exogenous shocks work in the Palestinian case. Arafat’s death brought a relative moderate, Mahmoud Abbas, into power, but this change in rule did not give Abbas needed ties with Islamic nationalist networks. Exogenous shocks are not the only way in which to transform social ties; new networks can also be built endogenously and institutionalized slowly over time. As discussed in the last chapter, the Belfast Agreement relied on brokers such as David Trimble and John Hume. With their ties to both mainstream and radical political networks, these politicians could successfully legitimate the Belfast Agreement to otherwise polarized audiences. These brokers were not made, but emerged from the political landscape. It was more luck than anything else that brought Trimble to the fore of Unionist politics, for example. That being said, once brokers were found, both the British and Irish governments went out of their way to cultivate these positions. When Trimble appealed to hard-liners, more mainstream politicians agreed this was a necessary bid to uphold his ties with rejectionist elements. When Gerry Adams attended the funeral of an IRA terrorist, the British and even some Unionists swallowed their

3

On autonomy and Kosovo see Stroschein 2008.

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concerns, realizing that without Adams’s ties to the IRA, there would be no peace process. In essence, what network theory suggests is that to solve indivisible conflicts one must focus on social ties, not on the issue itself. This stands in contrast to many policy prescriptions regarding indivisible conflict. Many scholars and activists working on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, for example, have proposed myriad ways to divide Jerusalem, all in hopes of finding an acceptable settlement. The theory here suggests that these extremely creative solutions are likely to fail; as long as networks are polarized, there will be no room to recognize these solutions as legitimate. Indeed, one might argue that in the current Israeli and Palestinian political climate, trying to negotiate specific issues is counterproductive. With no legitimate space for compromise, ongoing negotiations produce little more than frustration and charges of ill will, and even strengthen those extremists who charge that negotiating with the enemy is simply impossible. Overall, using network theory this book has attempted to develop unique propositions about territorial indivisibility: how territory becomes indivisible, why it stays that way, and under what conditions it can be transformed. In this concluding chapter, I consider the implications of my argument. I begin with a review of the evidence and how it compares to rationalist and constructivist theories of indivisible issues. Following this discussion, I situate the book’s argument in a broader historical context, asking whether processes of globalization have decreased the importance of territorial claims, and thus the significance of indivisibility. Finally, I turn to the broader implications of my argument for studies of ethnic conflict and for strategic interaction and international politics more generally.

the arguments and evidence: revisiting alternative explanations of indivisible conflict The conventional view of indivisible conflicts is that they are the product of immutable identity claims. Jerusalem is indivisible because it is sacred space, holy to Jews and Muslims alike. Kashmir is indivisible because it lies at the core of national-religious conflict between India and Pakistan. Ulster could not be divided because Protestants and Catholics had never gotten along and never will. In each of these cases, national and religious identities determine a territory’s indivisibility. In writing this book, I have hoped to cast doubt on these more simplistic formulations of

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constructivist theory. What seems missing from these social constructivist accounts are the actual processes of social construction. When identities determine the indivisibility of territory, this indivisibility seems inevitable, something that occurs despite what any particular actor is doing. A central feature of the cases here is that indivisibility is constructed through a strategic legitimation process. It was not a given that Ireland would become indivisible. As Chapter 3 demonstrated, although the politics of the nineteenth century were contentious, even the most radical of Irish and British politicians believed that shared sovereignty over Ireland was possible.4 What constructivists miss is the role of elites in moderating or mobilizing identities in the conflict over Ireland. AngloIrish history is full of moderates who pushed their followers towards compromise.5 Charles Stewart Parnell built ties among otherwise opposed coalitions as he pursued Home Rule. So too did William Gladstone attempt to reach common ground on the Irish issue. It was only when elites changed their legitimation strategies that identities were mobilized and Ireland became indivisible. In particular, in 1886 British Conservatives, fearful of the prospect of Home Rule, chose to change their legitimation strategy from one that opposed Home Rule as a threat to the integrity of the Empire to rhetoric that used the Protestant minority in Ulster to justify resistance to Home Rule. No doubt that the use of the Orange Card was a political move. Conservatives were not seriously committed to the Orange societies. They gambled that their rhetoric would build support among the British public, that their blistering Protestant rhetoric would undermine Liberal and Irish demands, and ultimately force their opponents to accommodate the Conservative position. Similar strategic processes changed Jerusalem from divisible to indivisible territory. Identity theorists would suggest that Jerusalem’s holiness intrinsically rendered it indivisible. Empirically, this claim is suspect; Jerusalem has widely varied in its divisibility. Historically, competing religious claims have not led to exclusive political claims to Jerusalem, and with only a few exceptions those governing Jerusalem, be it the Romans, the Byzantines, the Ottomans, the British, or the Israelis, have been willing to divide the Holy City. Chapter 5 showed that Israel and Jordan were willing to divide Jerusalem in 1948 as a way to keep the Western powers 4 5

See Hammond 1964; O’Brien 1957; and Lyons 1977. See Lyons 1977; Jackson 2004.

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from internationalizing the city. Even after 1967 and the reunification of Jerusalem, Israelis were careful to recognize the problems posed by competing claims to the city, and sought divisions where politically possible. None of this is to say governance of Jerusalem was ever easy, but it has been divisible. From 1967 onward, however, Israeli and Palestinian politicians constructed Jerusalem as indivisible. The motivations guiding actors’ rhetoric were political. As Israel annexed Jerusalem and expanded into the occupied territories, elites searched for novel ways to justify their claims to this territory. After 1967, Labor Zionists’ secular rhetoric seemed insufficient, unable to provide a reason for occupying those territories gained during the war. As a result, first Labor elites – followed later by Likud – turned to legitimation strategies that combined together traditional Zionist rhetoric, with its symbols of pioneering and settlement, with a fervent religious discourse, one that justified territorial control as divinely ordained. Similarly, whereas the PLO’s earlier claims to territory were largely secular and national, by the 1980s, in an attempt to outbid domestic rivals, Arafat and other elites incorporated Islamic appeals in their literature and public claims, marrying these religious symbols to Palestinian nationalist claims. In both Ulster and Jerusalem, then, elites deliberately shifted their legitimation strategies in response to increased political competition. This would appear to be substantial evidence for rationalist theories of indivisible conflict. As argued in Chapter 2, these theorists argue that territory is not really indivisible. Rather, politicians will portray territory as indivisible when it is not in their interest to reach a settlement. This might happen when commitment problems undermine bargaining, when politicians fear setting a precedent for division, or when domestic constraints prohibit division. Yet although politicians choose their rhetoric strategically, the construction of indivisible territory is not strictly rational; indivisibility is not simply a product of actors’ interests. For one, as has been argued throughout this book, politicians cannot choose legitimation strategies at will. Using a social network approach, I argue that whether an actor’s claim is legitimate depends on her position in the existing set of social and cultural networks. If a strategy is going to resonate, it must invoke symbols and narratives contained in existing social networks. Parnell’s appeals to Home Rule worked because they invoked the symbols of liberalism, which resonated with British elites. In Israel, Revisionists’ religious claims made in the 1950s failed because they did not resonate with existing Israeli

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networks.6 Whether a legitimation strategy works also depends on the politician’s position in a set of networks. Not every actor can make a claim and have it accepted as legitimate. Social ties do not just provide general resources; they give certain actors the authority to make particular claims. Parnell’s ties to radicals and moderates gave him the authority to speak to both coalitions, just as Arafat’s ties to Islamic groups and Palestinian nationalists gave him the power to use a combination of these symbols. In each of these ways, legitimation strategies’ resonance depends very little on actors’ interests, and much more on existing social and cultural networks. Nor can legitimation strategies’ effects be reduced to politicians’ preferences. As Chapter 2 argued, legitimation strategies can have switching effects: by resonating within a network of coalitions, rhetoric can make certain ties stronger by appearing legitimate to particular coalitions, and sever ties by appearing illegitimate to others. In particular, three switching mechanisms – coalition mobilization, polarization, and yoking – operated in each of these cases analyzed here. These outcomes, as has been argued throughout this book, cannot be attributed to politicians’ interests; indeed, at times switching effects can be entirely unintended, producing outcomes rationalists theories would not predict. Both Ulster and Jerusalem exhibit these switching effects, with rhetoric mobilizing, polarizing, and constructing coalitions. In the Anglo-Irish conflict, the Conservative legitimation strategy constructed Ulster as a unified political actor, and strengthened its position within the Conservative Party. The Orange Card also shattered ties with Conservative moderates, as well as relations with Irish nationalists. Finally, although not the only factor in the Republican-Constitutional Nationalist rivalry, the Conservative legitimation strategy strengthened Republican attacks against Constitutional Nationalists and set the stage for a disastrous turn in Irish domestic politics. Legitimation strategies had similar effects in Israeli and Palestinian politics. In Israel, politicians’ rhetoric yoked together religious and Zionist organizations, creating a powerful New Zionist coalition in domestic politics. Over time, this coalition strengthened within government structures, gaining influence far beyond what its numbers would predict. At the same time, this rhetoric polarized moderates within both Labor and Likud, shoving more dovish actors to the fringes of the political landscape. In Palestinian politics, Arafat’s rhetoric had similar structural 6

See e.g. Shindler 1995, 38; Weissbrod 2002, 33–35.

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effects: it yoked together nationalism and religion, creating the necessary conditions for the formation of Hamas; it mobilized religious nationalists within Palestinian politics; and it drove secular nationalists to the margins of Palestinian society. Thus, in both Israeli and Palestinian politics, the shift to religious nationalist rhetoric created and mobilized coalitions opposed to compromise and marginalized those willing to divide the city. It was by prompting these switching mechanisms that legitimation strategies created lock-in effects: as coalitions were mobilized, polarized, and new actors were created, actors lost flexibility at the bargaining table. Once used, actors became constrained by their own rhetoric, forced to reject those positions now considered illegitimate. Even when interests overlapped – even when opponents wanted to reach an agreement – bargaining failed to produce a settlement. In each of the cases examined here, lock-in effects transformed territory from a divisible to an indivisible issue. In Ireland, British and Irish parties had substantial overlaps in their interests. Rhetorically, however, the two sides could not have been further apart. Conservatives could not accept Ulster being treated symbolically as part of the Irish nation, no matter how much independence the counties would have in practice; committed to Ulster rights, they could not abandon the region without undermining their own legitimacy. At the same time the Irish could not accede to demands that recognized a separate Ulster identity. From 1912 to 1921 then, far from being a matter of politics as usual, the politics of Ulster became indivisible. Similar lock-in effects had dire consequences in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict over Jerusalem. Chapter 6 showed that both Israeli and Palestinian politicians have sincerely sought a division of Jerusalem that would be acceptable to all sides. Such discussions came to a head in the Camp David talks in 2000, where delegations addressed different ways they might share the city. Each side had an interest in seeing these negotiations succeed. These politicians were not constrained by a lack of ideas about how to divide Jerusalem. They considered a territorial partition that would allow a Jewish Yerushalayim and Palestinian al-Quds to exist side-by-side. To deal with sacred spaces, these delegations tried to separate religious and political sovereignty, giving each polity a legitimate claim to the most holy of territory. But what evaded Ehud Barak and Arafat was not shared interest in finding a settlement. What escaped them was a division of the Holy City that could be considered legitimate to their domestic constituencies. Attempts to divide Jerusalem and reach

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a final peace ultimately failed, leaving Israelis and Palestinians locked in continuing conflict. In sum, by narrowing the range of legitimate positions, rhetoric can construct territory as indivisible, leaving politicians without the possibility of a negotiated settlement, and more likely to pursue their claims through war.7 In essence, this theory addresses the indivisibility dilemma with a synthesis of rationalist and constructivist theories. It is only by recognizing the importance of strategy and legitimacy, ideas and interests, that it is possible to explain the construction of indivisible territory.

indivisible territory in a globalized world: the decline of territorial claims? For some scholars, my claims about indivisible territory might be on their face acceptable, but still extremely limited. In particular, some argue that in an increasingly globalized world, national and religious claims to territory are becoming irrelevant. Economies are now global, rooted in information and technology, and no longer confined to territorial industries. Nonstate and transnational actors challenge state sovereignty.8 Most provocatively perhaps, “internet, satellite television, faxes and air travel make possible new global virtual communities.”9 As identities become severed from territory, so does conflict over territory not only become less intractable, but less likely to occur in the first place. These scholars would argue that we are already beginning to witness globalization’s effects on indivisible conflict. For example, the last chapter noted that some analysts posit the Belfast Agreement was made possible by the erosion of Irish national identity. As Ireland became more integrated into the European Union, national claims to territory – and in particular, irredentist claims to the north – lost their appeal, paving the way for a lasting peace. Similar processes are argued to have played a role in the resolution of Franco-German territorial disputes, especially in the industrial areas of the Ruhr.10 More generally, my work might be critiqued for not recognizing the larger historical processes that have influenced territorial claims. There 7

8 9 10

As argued in Chapter 2, however, indivisibility is neither a necessary nor sufficient cause of war. C.f. Powell 2006. See e.g., Held et al 1999. Kaldor 2004, 166. Kaldor argues, however, that the death of nationalism is overstated. On Ireland and the European Union, see Meehan 2000. On the European Union and Franco-German territorial disputes, see e.g. Hensel 1999b, 108–9; Knapp 1998.

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can be no doubt that the content of territorial claims has changed dramatically over the life of the modern state.11 The early modern period saw dynastic claims to territory, demands made not in the name of national or religious identity, but justified by lineage and inheritance.12 During the Concert of Europe, states exchanged territory as a means to uphold the balance of power.13 Critics would thus charge that the national and religious claims described throughout this book represent a small moment in time, and that time is fading. We are in a moment where “The owl of Minerva, which brings wisdom, Hegel says, flies at dusk. It is a good sign that it is now circling around nations and nationalism.”14 Theorists who embrace the globalization thesis are optimistic about indivisible conflict. As identity is decoupled from territory, humans become less invested in their territorial claims, and more likely to develop new ways to share sovereignty. I am skeptical of this view. Although the content of territorial claims has changed over time, the process by which territory becomes indivisible has remained remarkably constant. There are innumerable ways in which to legitimate claims to territory, and it seems that any one of them can produce indivisible conflict. Politicians did not need the rise of nationalist identity to produce indivisible territorial claims. Well before the age of nationalism, Maria-Th´er`ese refused to negotiate with Frederick the Great over the territory of Silesia, not because of competing national claims, but because of irreconcilable dynastic demands. But perhaps globalization is a unique phenomenon, one that will not only alter the way in which actors demand territory, but eliminate such claims altogether. Perhaps globalization could produce such a world in theory, but it has yet to do so in practice. It does not seem that territorial claims will disappear anytime soon. Theoretically, scholars posit that ethnic and religious groups are just as likely to reassert their territorial claims in the face of globalization as they are to abandon them – strong territorial claims are used as a means to fight impinging global processes.15 Empirically there is little evidence that claims to Jerusalem, Kashmir, Kosovo, even Northern Ireland have softened in the face of globalization. There might be a time in which a theory of indivisibility is irrelevant, but it does not seem that this time has come to pass. 11 12 13 14 15

On this see e.g., Hall 1999. Teschke 2003. Schroeder 1994. Hobsbawm 1990, 181. Kaldor 2004.

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networks, legitimacy, and international relations theory Throughout this book, I have emphasized the importance of territory in international relations. Yet the argument developed here has implications far beyond the study of territorial disputes. In this concluding section, I expand on legitimation theory’s significance for two particular areas of inquiry: the study of ethnic conflict and strategic action in world politics. Network Theory and Ethnic Conflict Much like their debate over the question of indivisible territory, rationalists and constructivists clash over the more general causes of ethnic conflict. Whereas rationalists argue that ethnic conflict results from elite political interests, constructivists stress the “critical importance of intangible concerns such as status and emotional motives in explaining ethnic violence.”16 The debate, in essence, comes down to motives. If elites are found to be acting strategically, this is presented as evidence for rationalist theories.17 If instead conflict seems to result from symbols, narratives, and culture, then constructivists claim to have explained ethnic disputes.18 The network approach here suggests an alternative view of ethnic conflict. Network approaches are less concerned with actors’ motives, and more interested in how actors’ claims affect social-cultural networks – how it is these claims resonate with existing networks, and how this resonance, in turn, increases or decreases the chance for conflict. At the very least, this focus on networks may provide a methodological advantage over both rationalist and constructivist theories. Motives, be they rational or emotional, are notoriously difficult to measure. Even when a politician seems to state her motives, it is impossible to discern the sincerity of her claims (and this does not just apply to politicians, whose sincerity might always be suspect!). Measuring networks and public claims, in contrast, eliminates the problems inherent in discerning someone’s mental state. Moreover, much of social action is in fact motivated by both rationality and emotions simultaneously.19 When Milosevic invoked the Field of Blackbirds, was he acting as a sincere Serbian nationalist, or as a

16 17 18 19

Kaufman 2006, 46. Fearon and Laitin 2000, 846. Kaufman 2006. On the connection between rationality and emotions, see Elster 1999; Nussbaum 2001.

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self-interested politician seeking domestic support? When Moshe Dayan called on Israelis to protect their Biblical lands, was he speaking from true religious fervor or from a desire to ensure that the Israeli government would protect strategically important land? The answer in these cases is most likely both. If we keep evaluating our theories on the basis of motivations, we are likely trying to count angels on the head of a pin. Not only is the real answer elusive, but it might not even matter to the phenomenon we are trying to explain. This is not to say that actors’ motivations do not matter in some sense. Rather social network theory suggests that why a claim is made matters less than what claim is made, and how that claim resonates within a series of networks. Did Milosevic’s motivations influence how audiences accepted his rhetoric? Did Dayan’s strategic concerns undermine his religious pleas? Evidence suggests that a claim’s causal effect is influenced less by actor’s motivations, and more by the existing set of social and cultural networks. Beyond this question of motivation, network approaches complement both constructivist and rationalist explanations of ethnic conflict, and indeed even strengthen these explanations where they are the most weak. For constructivist theories of ethnic conflict, a network approach provides a conception of culture that allows for agency – the efficacy of human action. As argued in the introduction, scholars often criticize constructivist theories for not leaving room for agency. If culture and identity determine the likelihood of ethnic conflict, then what role, if any, do humans play in provoking and dampening violence? As James Fearon and David Laitin put it, the more ethnic and religious identities determine conflict, the more these approaches risk “a primordialist mode of interpretation that constructivists eschew” by treating “ethnic discourses as unchanging essences that strongly determine individuals’ actions.”20 In network theory, culture and identities matter, but they do not determine actors’ behavior. A network approach conceives of actors as having access to multiple identities – in many cases, actors have ties with several networks, each of which contain a variety of schemas, norms, and other cultural resources. Within any network structure there is thus likely to be friction, defined as contradictions that emerge between different sets of social relations, institutions, and discursive elements.21 What this means is that individuals cannot simply be ciphers, automatons that respond 20 21

Fearon and Laitin 2000, 846. Mische and White 1998.

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to an ephemeral culture. They instead negotiate these multiple identities, choosing to deploy some identity claims and not others, and in the process increase or decrease the chance of ethnic conflict.22 Actors thus actively construct the world around them; they are both products and producer of culture, and thus of ethnic violence. For rationalists, a network approach strengthens explanations of ethnic conflict by drawing attention to an elite’s social context. Rationalist theories have done an exceptional job demonstrating that even the most ancient of conflicts are often strategic, and provoked by material interests.23 This insight has served as a needed correction to journalistic accounts that portray certain conflicts as primitive, as barbaric, and outside of normal politics. But where rationalists have encountered difficulty is in explaining why ethnic identities have proven so salient. Why is it that nationalist or religious claims are so powerful in mobilizing publics? How can appeals to ancient history mobilize the masses, and provoke such terrible violence? Why are some elites more able to use these claims than others? A network theory approach suggests rationalists look to the social context in which actors are located. Interests cannot be the whole story. Claims resonate not because of strategic motivations, but because they are invoking core cultural tropes embedded within a society. By providing context to rationalist accounts, network theory can complement these theories of conflict. But to be clear, network analysis is not a soft version of rationalism, one that simply includes culture along with interests. Network theory soundly rejects the methodological individualism embraced by most advocates of rational choice theory. The causal action in a network theory is not located within an individual – it is in the intersection of claims and network structures that ethnic conflict is created or suppressed. Perhaps most importantly, in a network account, rhetoric truly transforms strategic interaction. Legitimation strategies do not merely echo in a static environment; they reconfigure the relations that underpin identities, creating fundamentally new actors and issues in the process of strategic interaction. This view of rhetoric goes far beyond what conventional theories envision and opens up new paths of inquiry in how language might influence the bargaining process. 22

23

See e.g., Tilly 1995, 2005. On the idea that identities are fluid and multiple, see Brubaker and Cooper 2000. E.g., Hardin 1995.

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Legitimacy and the Study of International Relations The Austrian diplomat Metternich once noted that international relations is often a matter of “right versus right.” Legitimacy is not peripheral to strategic interaction, but an integral part of bargaining in world politics. There is nothing particularly new about this insight. The preeminent realist Hans Morgenthau argued that although all politics is the pursuit of power, legitimacy (or in his words, ideologies) renders “involvement in that contest for power psychologically and morally acceptable to the actors and their audience.”24 It is, he continued, “the very nature of politics to compel the actor on the political scene to use ideologies in order to disguise the immediate goal of his action.”25 It is not simply that legitimacy complements power politics; the legitimation process is power politics. If a state does not legitimate its behavior, it would “find itself at a great, perhaps decisive, disadvantage in the struggle for power.”26 A state that flagrantly violates international norms and principles in pursuit of power will appear more threatening than one that pledges to abide by international rules. For this reason, Stephen Walt argues that if the United States continues to behave illegitimately and pursues unilateral policies, states will move to balance the once benign hegemon, and bring an end to the unipolar moment.27 Likewise, a government that legitimates its foreign policy to “the intellectual convictions and moral valuations of its own people has gained an incalculable advantage over an opponent” who has not legitimated its position.28 The United States could mobilize its massive resources in World War II in part because it convinced its public of the legitimacy of this mission. In contrast, as the legitimacy of the Vietnam War grew thin, so too did its public’s willingness to support the war. Much of world politics involves a contest in which governments attempt to convince their international and domestic audience that they are right, and that their opponents are wrong. It is unfortunate then that contemporary international relations theorists often overlook the strategic nature of the legitimation process. Neorealists like John Mearsheimer would dismiss appeals to legitimacy as insignificant window dressing; 24 25 26 27 28

Morgenthau 1953, 61. Ibid., 62. Ibid. Walt 2005. See also Ikenberry 2001. Morgenthau 1953, 63.

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it is in the material capabilities of states that the motor of world politics lies.29 Constructivists disagree, charging that neorealists ignore the ideational foundations of international relations, that norms and legitimacy drive state actions just as much, if not more, than power and interests. But here again international relations theorists embrace a questionable dichotomy – the question of whether power or legitimacy matters is far less interesting than the question of how states legitimate their pursuit of power in international relations. Putting the question this way opens up myriad paths of inquiry for international relations theorists. Under what conditions, for example, can leaders successfully legitimate grand strategies?30 Why was it that President Woodrow Wilson failed in his attempt to legitimate liberal internationalism to the American public after World War I, but Presidents Harry Truman and Dwight D. Eisenhower successfully sold the same idea after World War II?31 Similarly, to what extent can rising states legitimate attempts at expansion, and undermine potential balancing coalitions? For example, in 1864 Otto von Bismarck successfully legitimated his invasion of Denmark, and as a result broke apart a massive balancing coalition.32 Likewise as Morgenthau argues, it “was by a stroke of propagandistic genius that Hitler hit upon the principle of national self-determination in order to disguise and justify his policies of territorial expansion.”33 By claiming to assist the German minorities in Czechoslovakia, Adolf Hitler turned the League of Nations rhetoric against Britain and France, and staved off their intervention.34 In each of these cases how actors legitimated their claims is crucial to explaining their pursuit of power in the international system. Some international relations scholars have already begun to incorporate legitimacy in their study of power politics. Mlada Bukovansky’s excellent study posits that the French Revolution challenged not only the distribution of power, but the legitimacy of the international system, upending the norms that underpinned the eighteenth century’s balance of power.35 Both Ian Hurd and Erik Voeten explore how states use norms embedded in the United Nations to legitimate their own behavior, as 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

Mearsheimer 2001. See e.g., Legro 2005. Ibid. Goddard 2009. Morgenthau 1953, 67. Ibid. See also Jervis 1989. Bukovansky 2002.

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well as challenge the legitimacy of their opponent’s actions.36 Paul MacDonald argues that the United States occupation of Iraq faltered in part because it lacked the resources to legitimate its intervention, and thus could not secure the cooperation of the Iraqi population.37 Each of these studies combines a clear view of power politics and strategy with a deep understanding of how states justify their foreign policies. Likewise, the story of how Ulster and Jerusalem became indivisible could not be told without an emphasis on both rationality and legitimacy. If we were to only focus on culture and ideology, and set aside rationality, we would miss the politics of indivisibility. There would be no way in which to explain Randolph Churchill’s strategic use of the Orange Card or Dayan’s appeals to Jerusalem’s sanctity. But if we pretend ideas are epiphenomenal, without any causal impact, then we could not capture the way in which rhetoric transforms the political landscape, creating new identities, marginalizing others, and reconstructing the very meaning of territory. Without downplaying real disagreements about the role of interests, power, and ideas in international politics, the argument here suggests that current paradigmatic debates are somewhat overdrawn. Politicians pursue their own interests, but always with the goal of making legitimate claims. These legitimation strategies in turn dramatically reshape the environment; indivisible territory is made, not by ancient hatreds or ephemeral ideologies, but by the ebb and flow of everyday politics. The words we use are not cheap. Mere talk – this window-dressing on interests – has dramatic, unintentional, and often tragic consequences, shaping the chances of war and peace in the international system. 36 37

Hurd 2005; Voeten 2005. MacDonald 2009.

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Index

Abbas, Mahmoud (Abu Mazen), 192–3, 199, 200, 233 positioning and legitimacy of, 26, 235–6, 242 Abdullah I, King of Jordan annexation of Arab Palestine as objective of, 133–4, 135–6 and cooperation with emerging Jewish state, 132–3 legitimacy of, 133–4, 145–8 partition of Jerusalem and, 122–3, 126n7, 127, 133–8, 146 positioning of, 139, 146, 147–8 Abu Dis, 151, 201–3, 238 Abu Mazen, see Abbas, Mahmoud (Abu Mazen) Act of Union (1801), 47, 52, 58, 62, 89 and Belfast Agreement, 231 and Irish nationalism, 51 Pitt and, 52n16 Adams, Gerry, 214, 226, 227, 235, 237, 242–3 Hume-Adams agreement, 211, 226 Ahern, Bertie, 231 Al-Aqsa Intifada, 208 Al-Aqsa Mosque, 1, 118–19, 198 al-Haram al-Sharif (Noble Sanctuary)/ Temple Mount, 117, 118–19, 120, 142, 144, 149, 153–5, 165, 175–6, 203, 204–6, 208, 234, 238 Allon, Yigal, 150n122, 152, 165–6, 167, 173

Allon Plan, 152, 165–6 Al-Quds (East Jerusalem), 155, 160, 200–1, 204, 234, 238 al-Tall, Abdullah, 137 ambiguity ambiguous language as strategic, 27, 68–70, 71 and appeal to multiple audiences, 180–1, 221–2 Belfast Agreement and ambiguous language, 224, 227–33, 237 brokers and use of, 209–10, 237 Constitutional Nationalists and use of ambiguous language, 68–70 and construction of divisibility, 59 constructive ambiguity and bargaining, 228–32, 237–8 Fatah’s strategic use of ambiguous language, 180–1 Israeli-Palestinian negotiations and constructive, 237–8 legal, 155–6 and legitimacy, 221–2, 228, 231–2, 237 Parnell and, 68–70, 71, 76 and renunciation of violence, 231–2 resonance and, 27, 68–70 and shared control over sacred spaces, 238 of symbols, 69 TUAS as example of ambiguous language, 232 Anglo-Irish Agreement (1985), 52, 211–12, 217, 221, 225, 226

277

278

Index

Anglo-Irish politics Act of Union, 47, 52, 58, 62 Anglo-Irish Agreement, 52, 211–12, 217, 221, 225, 226 British imperial integrity as issue in, 12, 47–8, 54–7, 61, 66, 67–8, 73, 75–6, 78, 82, 86–7, 90–1, 104–5 British interest in Irish self-government, 219–20 coalitions and, 59–64 commitment devices and, 54–7 devolution and, 60, 90, 97–9, 101, 214 Downing Street Declaration denying British interest in Ireland, 212–13 identity politics and, 229 lock-in effects and, 247 myth-symbol complexes as frame for, 75, 86, 109, 114 power-sharing agreements and, 114, 209, 210–14, 218, 222–3, 226, 233, 235 reputation mechanisms and bargaining dynamics in, 54–7 as test case for legitimation theory, 38–40 treaties and formal agreements, 52, 113–14 See also Belfast (Good Friday) Agreement (1998); Home Rule, Irish; Ireland; Specific actors Anglo-Irish Treaty (1921), 3, 83 Anglo-Irish War, 50, 103, 110–13 Arab-Israeli politics Declaration of Principles, 116 Israeli settlement agenda as issue in, 117–18, 124, 151, 166, 173, 194, 199 lock-in effects and, 247 Palestinian elites’ loss of power, 132, 133 Pan-Arabism as factor in, 160, 178 two-state solution, 116, 143, 192, 236 See also Jerusalem; Specific actors Arafat, Yasser claims on Jerusalem, 202–3, 205–6 Hamas and, 189–90, 191, 193, 198, 203 as identity bridge, 189 leadership of PLO and Fatah by, 116, 117, 160, 182–3, 202–3 positioning of, 189, 245–6 religious rhetoric and symbols used by, 185–6, 189, 198–9, 245–7

Aridor, Yoram, 175 Arlosoroff, Chaim, 130 Ashwari, Hanan, 192 Asquith, Herbert Henry, 87, 99 Atkinson, John, 94 Balfour, Alfred, 61, 94 Barak, Ehud, 116, 117, 120, 160, 195, 197–8, 202, 205, 247–8 bargaining bargaining failures, 5–6, 7, 9, 11 common interest as foundation of negotiation, 234 fluidity of process, 30 interest and, 9 legitimation strategies deployed during, 15, 28 power linked to frames adopted by actors, 32 rationalist theory and, 9 structural effects caused by legitimation strategies, 30 territory as negotiable, 5 bargaining failures, 5–6, 7, 9, 11 Basic Law (1980), 12, 159–60, 195, 196–7 Beach, Michael Hicks, 79 Begin, Menachem challenges to legitimacy of, 197 Herut and, 144–5 Likud Party and, 162, 173 moderates and, 175–6 and opposition to partition, 142–4 Religious Zionism and, 163, 173–4 Beilin, Yossi, 199, 200, 233 Beilin-Abu Mazen accords, 199, 203, 206, 233 Belfast (Good Friday) Agreement (1998), 46, 52, 209 Act of Union as symbolic predicate for, 231 ambiguity and, 224, 227–33, 237 British-Irish Council established, 213–14 brokers (bridging actors), 34, 224–7, 231, 234–5, 237, 242 erosion of national identity linked to, 223, 248 North-South Ministerial Council established, 213 power-sharing institutions in, 222–3 Trimble and legitimation of, 34

Index Ben-Gurion, David, 127, 128–9, 133–4, 135–8, 139, 140, 141, 145 Bennett, Andrew, 43 Benvenisti, Meron, 151, 157–8 Bew, Paul, 52, 55, 100–1, 229 Bially Mattern, Janice, 28 Biggar, Joseph, 65 Bismarck, Otto von, 29, 37, 254 Blair, Tony, 220 Blake, Robert, 95 blowback, 19, 31–2, 46, 111, 167 Bonar Law, Andrew, 95, 95n51, 105 boundaries ambiguity of Jerusalem’s, 5, 160n2, 195, 202, 238 demographics and determination of, 117, 130, 140, 150–1, 201 religious nationalism and “hardening” of Jerusalem’s, 201 Revisionists and maximalism regarding, 143, 144 security fence separating Israel and West Bank, 233 unifying role of cross-border institutions, 216, 218–19, 221, 229–31, 234 as variable over time, 5 Breger, Marshall, 119 bridging actor(s) Abbas as, 26, 192–3, 235–6 ambiguity and, 64–5 Arafat as, 189 as brokers, 34, 224–7, 231, 234–5, 237, 241–2 Churchill as, 91–2 Constitutional Nationalists as, 64–6 creation or identification of, 223–4, 241–2 Dayan as, 169 Husseini as, 192–3 identity and, 37, 53, 64–5, 91–2, 169, 189, 192 Kook as, 169 O’Connell as, 53 Parnell as, 53, 64–5 positioning and, 26, 37, 53, 64–5, 91–2, 192 Yassin as, 189 yoking and, 37 British Unionists, 46 brokers Adams as, 226, 227, 237, 242–3

279

Belfast Agreement and Hume and Trimble as, 224–7, 234–5, 242 creation of, 235, 241–2 definition of, 224, 235 and engagement of otherwise isolated actors, 224–7, 235, 239 Hume as, 225–6 identification of potential, 236 legitimacy of, 236–7, 242–3 lock-in overcome by, 234–5 McGuiness as, 227 positioning of, 209 role of bridging actors as, 34, 231, 234–5, 237, 242 use of ambiguity by, 209–10, 237 Brooke-Mayhew talks, 212 Budeiri, Musa, 188 Bukovansky, Mlada, 23, 254 Burg, Yosef, 174 Bush, George W., 235 Butt, Isaac, 48, 70–1, 90n28 Camp David negotiations, Jerusalem as issue during, 44, 117, 159, 161, 195, 197, 199, 201, 203–5, 209, 235, 247 Carnavon, Henry Howard Molyneaux, Earl, 59n5, 78 Carson, Edward, 94–5, 95n50 Cecil, Lord Hugh, 87 Chamberlain, Joseph, 60, 65, 76 Churchill, Randolph, 53, 78, 84–5, 91–2, 94, 255 Churchill, Winston, 113 civil rights Irish, 60, 217, 226 Palestinian, 60, 156–7 civil wars, 5 Clan na Gael, 62 Clinton, Bill, 2, 117, 201, 204 coalition mobilization, 38 change in legitimation strategies linked to, 161, 241, 246, 255 in Ireland, 93–4 in Israel, 171–4 lock-in and, 33–5, 38, 82, 93–5, 244, 246–7 myth-symbol complexes and, 33, 34–5 network density and, 33–4 in Palestine, 188–95 and polarization, see polarization and positioning of actor, 33–4

280

Index

coalition mobilization (cont.) religious rhetoric and, 161, 173–4, 188–95 social network theory and, 34 as unintentional, 34, 82, 173, 177 coalitions and Anglo-Irish politics, 59–64 common interests and formation of, 73–4 legitimation strategies and coalition building, 15, 18, 32–3, 70–80 outbidding and instrumental use of legitimation strategies, 28–9 peripheral pulls and polarization, 35–6, 96–8, 100–1, 174–7, 193 polarization and, 35–6, 82 rational choice theory of, 32 shared interests and, 70 social network theory and, 18 switching effects and coalitional change, 32–3 See also coalition mobilization; polarization Cohen, Geula, 197 Collins, Michael, 113–14 commitment, 29 and Anglo-Irish conflict, 54–7, 88, 95n50, 107, 109, 244, 247 as mechanism of indivisibility, 7, 10–12 and Palestinian-Israeli negotiations, 12, 119 Conservatives (British), 59–60 Anglo-Irish Agreement and, 211 changes of legitimation strategies by, 56–7 Constitutional Nationalists and, 77–9, 83, 99–100 delegitimation of Home Rule proponents as objective of, 83–4, 86–7 failed rhetorical strategies used by, 83–4 Home Rule opposed by, 58, 60–1, 93 imperial integrity as issue for, 90–1, 104–5 “Orange Card” used by, 56–7, 80, 82, 84–9, 90, 244, 246, 255 and partitioning of Ireland, 81, 104–5 polarization and, 82, 95–102 positioning of, 91 Southern Unionists and, 93, 97

Ulster Unionists and, 91, 92, 93–4 yoking and creation of Ulster identity linked to legitimation strategies used by, 89–92, 102, 105 consociational institutions, 216, 218–19, 221, 222–3, 229–31, 234 Constitutional Nationalists (Irish), 61–2 ambiguous rhetoric and symbols used by, 68–70 Conservative acceptance of legitimacy of claims by, 77–9 Home Rule supported by, 49, 61–2, 66, 100–1 imperial rhetoric used by, 66, 67–8, 73, 75–6, 78 legitimation strategies used by, 59, 63–4, 66–70 Liberal-Constitutionalist coalition, 72–7 liberal principles used in appeals by, 67, 73, 75–6, 78 liberal rhetoric used by, 67, 75–6, 78 Parnell’s leadership of, 61–2 partitioning and, 105–6 positioning of, 63–6, 90n28 Republican–Nationalist alliance, 63, 65–7, 70–2, 82, 100–1 constructivist theory, 254 blowback as explained in, 32 critiques of theories of indivisibility, 18, 243–4 ethnic conflict and, 250–1 identity construction and, 9, 13–16 indivisibility and, 4, 12–17, 243–4 legitimacy in, 16, 27–8 religious claims as considered in, 14, 243–4 and role of elites, 244 Cosgrove, Liam, 221 Cox, Michael, 223 Cruz, Consuelo, 28 Curtis, L. P., 66 Dayan, Moshe legitimacy of, 172–3 position as identity bridge, 169 religious rhetoric used by, 164–6, 169, 175, 251, 255 resignation of, 174, 176 deadlock, see lock-in defection, 31, 45, 60

Index delegitimation, 29, 56–7, 83–4 of Constitutional Nationalists by “Orange Card” rhetoric, 80 of Irish Parliamentary Party and Constitutional Nationalists by Sinn F´ein, 101–2, 107–10, 111 political punishment for, 215 Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine (DFLP), 179, 180, 187f Democratic Movement for Change, 175, 176 Democratic Unionist Party (Ireland), 209n4, 212, 214 de Valera, Eamon, 114 devolution Anglo-Irish conflict and, 55, 60–1, 74, 90, 97–9, 101, 107, 214, 232 Jerusalem and, 156–8, 159 Palestine and, 214 As “personal autonomy” vs. recognition of national rights, 156–7 Dillon, John, 71 Disraeli, Benjamin, 78 divisibility acceptability of partitioning, 194, 240 legitimation strategies and construction of, 59 popular support for Northern Ireland referendum, 204 of the previously indivisible, 46, 206, 211–12, 241–2 See also indivisibility; partitioning division, mechanisms of, 3, 240 indivisibility and actors rejection of, 8 rejection by actors, 13, 31 Dixon, Paul, 228 Dome of the Rock, 1, 118–19, 154, 198, 205n188 Downing Street Declaration, 212–13, 228 Easter Rising (1916), 50, 51, 103, 108–10 Eban, Abba, 150n123, 153, 157, 163, 196 economic theories and indivisibility, 3, 7 elites, 15–19, 244 See also Specific actors Elster, Jon, 31 Emirbayer, Mustafa, 22

281

England, 74–6 British role in the establishment of Jewish and Palestinian states, 122, 124, 133, 134–5 imperialism and, 12, 47–8, 51, 54–7, 61, 76, 218 Ireland as security threat to, 223 Irish self-government as interest of, 219–20 Peel Commission and partitioning of Jerusalem, 129–30 relationship between Republic of Ireland and, 212, 213–14 See also Anglo-Irish politics; Conservatives (British); Liberal Party (British) Eshkol, Levi, 128, 152, 155–6, 157, 163 ethnicity network theory and ethnic conflict, 250–2 territorial indivisibility and ethnic conflict, 9, 114 See also identity European Union, as context for Irish peace process, 223, 248 Fatah, 187f ambiguous rhetoric used by, 181–2 Hamas and, 198, 203, 236 Jerusalem as issue for, 182, 198–9, 202–3 legitimacy of, 198, 203 Muslim Brotherhood and, 183–7 PFLP and, 182 polarization and marginalization of moderates within, 192–3 positioning and legitimacy of, 235–6 religious rhetoric used by, 185–7, 186 as secular organization, 181–2, 186 Faulkner, Brian, 34, 210–11, 216 Fearon, James, 6, 10, 31, 251 Fenians, see Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB or Fenians) Fianna Fail, ´ 114 Friedland, Roger, 142, 185 Frisch, Hillel, 185 fungibility, 13 game theory, 29–30, 32, 34, 38 Ganguly, Sumit, 2

282

Index

Garvin, Tom, 109 Gazit, Shlomo, 165 George, Alexander, 43 Germany, 37 Gershonberg, Gershon, 167, 204 Gladstone, William, 48, 59nn5–6, 60, 64n23, 65–6, 69, 73–7, 88, 94, 96, 244 globalization, 248–9 Glubb, John Bagot (Glubb Pasha), 136 Golan Heights, 176 Golani, Motti, 135 Goodwin, Jeff, 22 Goren, Shlomo, 154 Gorenberg, Goren, 167 Grattan’s Parliament (Irish Parliament of 1782), 69 Great Britain, see England Gresh, Alain, 181 Gunning, Jeroen, 236 Gush Emunim and Judaic identity, 177 Labor and, 170–3, 177 Likud and, 173–4, 176, 177 and network changes in Israeli politics, 168f and sovereignty over Temple Mount, 204–5 yoking and emergence of, 167–71 Young Guard and, 172 Habash, George, 179 Hajj Amin al-Husseini, 131–2 Hall, Rodney Bruce, 13, 23 Hamas (Palestinian Islamic Resistance Movement), 187f change in PLO’s legitimation strategy linked to emergence of, 162, 187–90, 206–7, 233 commitment to armed struggle, 233–4 as competition or challenge to legitimacy of Fatah, 189–95, 198, 206, 235–6 as distinct from Muslim Brotherhood, 188 emergence of, 116, 187–90 Jerusalem as central in rhetoric of, 198, 202 and pragmatists as potential brokers, 236 as representative of Palestine, 190–1 Hammer, Zevulen, 173–4

Hassner, Ron, 5, 8, 14 Hawatma, Nayif, 179 Hecht, Richard, 142, 185 Heller, Mark, 196 Herut party (Israeli), 144–5 Home Government Association, 48, 71 “homelands” as indivisible, 13–14, 124, 126 Home Rule, Irish, 46 British Conservatives and, 58, 60–1, 83–9, 93 British interests and, 55 British Liberals and, 48–9, 59–60, 72–7 coalitions and debate over, 59–64 Constitutional Nationalists and, 49, 61–2, 66, 100–1 divided sovereignty as option, 58, 59 imperial integrity and, 47–8, 54–7, 61, 76 land reforms and, 61, 62, 63, 66, 78 legislative history of, 48–9, 76–7, 102–3 legitimation strategies and possibility of compromise, 63–4 perceived inevitability of, 58–9, 79 religion as frame for debate, 60–1, 86–8 as republican demand, 81 Ulster and opposition to, 49, 53 Howard, Katy, 221 Hume, John, 225–7, 234–5, 242 Hume-Adams Agreement, 211, 226 Hurd, Ian, 28, 254–5 Hussein, King of Jordan, 157 Husseini, Faisal, 192–3 identity and Anglo-Irish conflict, 50–4, 81–2 bridging actors and, 37, 91–2 British identity of Northern Ireland, 216 and claims on territory, 3 as complex and dynamic, 15, 36n62, 251–2 concept of national sovereignty and creation of national, 13 constructivist theory and, 9–10, 14–15 ethnicity and, 9 globalization and erosion of national, 248–9 as malleable or fluid, 36n62, 53–4 manipulation of, 15

Index myth-symbol complexes and, 9, 24, 33, 131 national, 3, 36n62, 51–4, 131 political and strategic deployment of, 15, 53 power in territorial disputes, 12–17 religion and, 9, 51–4, 85–6 territorial indivisibility and, 13–15, 50–4, 244–5 yoking and formation of, 16, 36–7, 89–92, 102, 105, 187–90, 246–7, 255 imperial integrity, British, 12 Anglo-Irish Treaty and, 110–14 Conservative shift of rhetoric from, 82 Constitutional Nationalists and use of imperial rhetoric, 66, 67–8, 73, 75–6, 78, 104 Home Rule debate and, 47–8, 54–7, 61, 76 “Orange Card” and neutralization of imperial rhetoric, 86–7, 104 indivisibility as construct, 46, 79–80, 161, 193–4, 207, 215, 244, 255 definition of, 6–7 divisibility of the previously indivisible, 46, 206, 211–12 of Ireland, 2–3, 38–9, 50, 79–80 issue, 4–5 of Jerusalem, 1–2, 117–22, 149–50, 193–4 legitimation strategies as causal, 46, 215–16 lock-in and, 215 mobilization of coalitions and, 33–5 network theory and explanations for creation of, 38 physical definitions of, 6–7 polarization and, 35–6 as result of combination of legitimation strategies and switching effects, 31–2, 161, 255 as reversible, 207 territorial, see indivisibility, territorial indivisibility, territorial as chimera, 11–12 economic theories and proposed solutions, 3 globalization and, 248–9 international relations theory and proposed solutions, 3

283

legitimation process and creation of, 19–20, 56–7 malleability of, 8 national identity and, 51–4 religious identity and, 51–4 as social construct, 4, 7–8, 19, 122–3 as social fact rather than subjective phenomenon, 7–8 as source of international political conflicts, 1–3, 5 as variable over time and space, 5, 12 violent conflict and, 3 intention of actors, 37–8 interests common interest as foundation of negotiation, 234 as inadequate explanation, 73–4, 82, 106–7, 247, 255 incompatibility of British and Irish, 55 rationalist theory and strategic, 9–10 resonance of legitimation strategies despite conflict of, 77 international relations theory indivisibility and, 3 legitimacy in, 28, 253–5 Intifada, 183–7, 208 Al Aqsa (Second), 117, 208 Ireland all-party talks and resolution of conflict, 209 civil rights in, 60, 217, 226 as divisible, 45, 52–3, 55 Easter Rising, 50, 51, 103, 108–10 historical cultural division and animosities in, 51–4 identity and Anglo-Irish conflict, 50–1, 81–2 as indivisible territory, 2–3, 38–9, 50, 79–80 See also “Orange Card” Irish Constitution (1937) and nationalist claims, 220 Irish national identity, 51–4 partitioning of, 3, 7, 49–50, 56, 81, 103–5, 218, 220–1 power-sharing government in Northern Ireland, 209 Republic of Ireland’s role in peace process, 220–2 as test case for legitimation theory, 38–40

284

Index

Ireland (cont.) treaties and formal agreements between Britain and, 52, 113–14 See also Anglo-Irish politics; Home Rule, Irish Irgun Zva’I Leumi, 144–5 Irish Nationalists, 46, 209 political parties representing, 217–19 radicalism and, 62–3 See also Constitutional Nationalists (Irish); Republicans (Irish) Irish Parliamentary Party, 48, 56, 61, 64, 67, 70–1 Sinn F´ein and, 50, 101, 108–10, 111 See also Constitutional Nationalists (Irish) Irish Reform Association, 98, 217–19 Irish Republican Army (IRA), 103, 114, 208, 210–11, 217–20, 219 constructive ambiguity and legitimacy of, 231–2, 237 Hume and, 226–7 negotiations and, 209n4, 211, 212–14, 231–2 “Provos,” 210n10, 217 Sinn F´ein and, 211n16, 217–18, 231–2, 237 Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB or Fenians), 62–3, 65, 71, 72, 74, 108–9 Irish Volunteers, 103, 108, 110 Isaac, Rael Jean, 167 Islamic Jihad, 188 Islamic nationalism, 37 See also Hamas (Palestinian Islamic Resistance Movement) Israel Basic Law and exclusive claims on Jerusalem, 12, 159–60, 195, 196–7 demographics of, 166 divisibility of Jerusalem as wedge issue in Israeli politics, 195–9 Jerusalem as capital of, 139 legitimacy of, 140, 142 Mapai Party as national representatives of, 139–45 maximalists and annexation of territory, 144, 150–1, 159–60, 238 PLO recognized as legitimate by, 183 secular claims to “Jewish Jerusalem,” 140

settlements and demographic expansion in Jerusalem, 159–60 Jabotinsky, Ze’ev, 142–4 Jackson, Alvin, 53, 62, 94, 222 Jackson, Patrick, 36 Jericho Congress, 147 Jerusalem barriers and restricted movement in divided, 126 boundaries as ambiguous, 5, 160n2, 195, 202, 238 as divisible territory, 45, 115, 121 as indivisible territory, 1–2, 39, 117–22, 149–50, 193–4 as internationalized, 122, 135–27, 141, 148, 153, 171, 244–5 nationalist claims on, 46, 140 religious claims on, 46, 123, 164–7, 206–7 religious nationalism and “hardening” of boundaries, 201 religious rhetoric and claims on, 123 sacred/secular distinction and divisibility of, 140–1, 195, 203–7, 238 Six Day War and, 148–50 as symbolic, 131 as test case for legitimation theory, 38–40 See also Jerusalem, Arab political constructions of; Jerusalem, as sacred space; Jerusalem, Israeli political constructions of; Jerusalem, partitioning of Jerusalem, Arab political constructions of Al-Quds (East Jerusalem), 155, 160, 200–1, 204, 234, 238 as capital of Jordan, 138 as capital of Palestine, 119, 138, 202, 203 historical/religious rhetoric used in claims, 147 Jerusalem, as sacred space, 117–22, 125–6, 131, 149–50, 203–7, 243 secular/sacred distinction in claims to, 140–1, 152–8, 203–7, 238 “special status” or “holy basin” arrangements and, 203–4 See also Dome of the Rock; Temple Mount/al-Haram al-Sharif

Index Jerusalem, Israeli political constructions of annexation and, 115, 127, 149, 152–5, 159–60, 164, 196, 200–1, 245 Basic Law and exclusive claims on, 12, 159–60, 195, 196 as capital of Israel, 1, 3, 119, 121, 122, 129, 134, 138, 139–41, 145, 149, 152, 159, 186, 196, 200 minimalist/maximalist debate over geographical divisions, 144, 150–1, 150–2, 159, 238 sacred/secular distinction and divisibility of, 140–1, 203–7, 238 Six Day War and Israeli reunification of, 148–50 Yerushalayim (West Jerusalem), 140, 200, 202, 234, 247 Jerusalem, partitioning of, 247 Abdullah and, 122, 126n7, 127, 133–8, 146 “borough plan” and shared political sovereignty, 157–8, 200 Camp David negotiations and issue of, 44, 117, 159, 161, 195, 197, 199, 201, 203–5, 209, 235 as condition for creation of Israel, 134–8 constructive ambiguity and potential for, 237 international actors and proposals for, 134–8 Israeli Basic Law, 12, 159–60, 195, 196–7 legal and political obstacles to, 12, 159–60, 195–9 military operations as explanation for, 126–7 Muslim Brotherhood and opposition to, 184–5 Peel Commission and, 129–30 public opinion on issue, 119–20, 236 religious claims and, 46, 123, 164–7, 206–7 sacred/secular distinction and, 140–1, 195, 203–7, 238 “special status” or “holy basin” arrangements for control of, 203–4, 206–7

285

Jewish Agency (prestate government), 128–30 cooperation with Abdullah, 132–3, 135–6 jihad, 153, 184, 199 Johnson, Lyndon B., 152 Jordan, 157, 178 See also Abdullah I, King of Jordan Josef, Dov, 137 Kadima Party (Israeli), 195 Kashmir, as indivisible territory, 2, 3, 6, 8, 240, 241, 243, 249 Kaufman, Stuart, 9, 24 Kimmerling, Baruch, 177, 191 Klein, Menachem, 133–4, 191, 194, 206 Kniss, Fred, 14 Knoke, David, 22 Kollek, Teddy, 119, 151, 157–8, 163, 196 Kook, Rabbi Rzvi Yehuda, 169, 171 Kosovo, 8, 12, 34, 240, 241, 242, 249 Krajina, 10 Krebs, Ronald R., 28, 236–7 Kuklinski, James, 22 Labor Party (Israeli), 116 decline of, 162–3 Gush Emunim and, 169, 170–3, 177 legitimacy crisis and, 165–6 and network changes in Israeli politics, 168f opposition to Basic Law, 196 religious rhetoric used by, 165–6, 245 Laffan, Michael, 101 Laitin, David, 251 Land League (Irish Republican group), 62 Land of Israel Movement, 168, 170, 172 land reform, 61, 63, 66, 70, 78 Irish Home Rule debates and issue of, 60, 62 Larkin, Emmet, 101–2 legitimacy ambiguity and preservation of, 221–2, 228–9, 231–2 of brokers, 224–5, 236–7, 242–3 as central issue in constructivist theory, 27–8 divisibility of Jerusalem as wedge issue in Israeli politics, 195–9

286

Index

legitimacy (cont.) as epiphenomenal in rationalist theory, 27 as independent variable, 23, 40 vs. interest, 16–17 international politics and, 23 as matter of dispute during bargaining, 25 of moderates, 236 network density and, 26 as political, 29–30 political costs of loss of, 215 political punishment for the delegitimized, 215 popular vote or referendum and, 211 positioning of actors and claims of, 23–7 power politics and process of legitimation, 253 principle of consent and, 223, 229–30 resonance and, 24–5 legitimation crises, 23 legitimation strategies, 4 audience-dependent selection of, 26–8, 66–9 See also resonance as causally recursive, 42–3 changes in, 29–30, 44, 46, 56, 82, 86, 163–4 choice of, 15–16, 18, 22–3, 27–31, 44, 56–7, 245–6 coalition building and, 15, 18, 28–9 coalition mobilization linked to changes in, 33, 161, 241 as commitment devices, 29 constraints on, 25, 27–8 defined and described, 23, 240 and delegitimation of opponents, 29, 56–7, 83–4, 86–7, 101–2, 107–10, 111 divisibility constructed through, 59 elites’ role in selection and use of, 15–16, 18 internal political challenges and escalation of rhetoric, 189–95, 198, 206, 235–6 lock-in as unintended consequence of, 4, 15, 18, 27, 106–7, 241 long-term effects as unpredictable, 30–1 motivations for use of, 240–1 outbidding and changes in, 28–9, 165–6, 186–7

as path-dependent, 41–2 polarization linked to changes in, 35–6, 101–2, 161, 241 as political, 29–30, 240–1 positioning and, 246 rational choice theory, 30 and relationship between political and sacred sovereignty, 195 resonance of, 15, 18, 26–8, 241 rhetoric and, 23 Six Day War and changes in, 45, 123, 150, 162, 163, 165, 171 structural effects and, 18–20, 30–1, 37–8, 88–9, 241 symbolic interactionist theory and, 32 yoking linked to change in, 161, 167–71, 187–91, 206–7, 241 See also Specific legitimation theory constructivist and rationalist theories compared with, 15–16 ethnic conflict and, 250–2 and explanations for change in legitimation strategies, 86 international relations and, 253–5 Ireland and Jerusalem as test cases for, 38–40 methodology and, 43–5 and moderates as negotiators, 235 network theory and, 250–2 and peace in Northern Ireland, 209–16 policy prescriptions derived from, 233–9, 234 resonance and, 250–1 and role of brokers, 34, 209–10, 223–5, 234–7, 241–3 role of elites as key actors in, 15–16 Liberal Party (British), 59–60 Irish Home Rule and, 59–60, 74–6 Liberal-Constitutionalist coalition, 72–7 liberal principles used in rhetorical appeals to, 67, 73, 75–6, 78 Likud Party (Israeli), 116 decline of Labor Party and rise of, 162–3 ideological identity tied to Zionism, 173 Likud-Gush Emunim alliance, 173–4 marginalization of moderates within, 175–7 and network changes in Israeli politics, 168f opposition to Basic Law, 196–7

Index opposition to peace process by, 117 Religious Zionism and, 173–7, 205, 245 lock-in blowback and, 31, 46 brokers and overcoming, 234–5 coalition mobilization and, 33–5, 38, 82, 93–5, 244, 246–7 defection costs and, 31, 45 indivisibility theory and mechanisms of, 32 interest as insufficient explanation for, 82 legitimation strategies and, 22, 106 See also Specific methodology and evidence of, 45 network reconfiguration and, 22, 234 polarization and, 38, 82, 95–102, 234, 246–7 switching effects and, 56–7, 82, 247 as unintended consequence of legitimation strategies, 4, 15, 18, 27, 106–7, 240–1 yoking and, 38, 82, 187–91, 246–7 Lohamei Herut Israel (Stern Gang), 145 Long, Walter, 94 Loyalists (militant Irish Unionist faction), 210 Lustick, Ian, 8, 13, 144, 169 Lyons, Francis Stewart Leland, 53, 69, 95n50 MacDonald, Paul, 255 Major, John, 212, 220, 226, 237 malleability, 8, 10 variability of territorial indivisibility over time and space, 5, 12 Mansbach, Richard, 12–13 Mapai party (Israeli), 128 as national representative of Israel, 139–45 positioning of, 139 and secular/sacred rhetoric used in appeal to international audience, 140–1 Zionism and, 141 Matthew, H. C. G., 75 maximalists (Israeli), 143, 150n120 Maxwell, John, 109 McGuinness, Martin, 214, 219, 227 Mearsheimer, John, 253–4

287

Meir, Golda, 126, 127, 128, 135–6, 166, 172 methodology for data collection, 43–5 hypotheses and testing, 43–5 and Ireland and Jerusalem as test cases, 39–40 process-trace approach, 40–3 structured comparison in, 43 Migdal, Joel, 191 Mill, John Stewart, 60 Milosevic, Slobodan, 12, 24, 29, 34–5, 242, 250–1 Milton-Edwards, Beverly, 198 mobilization, see coalition mobilization moderates brokers as distinct from, 235 lack of legitimacy during negotiations, 236 polarization and marginalization of, 162, 175–6, 192–3 Moore, William, 94 Morgenthau, Hans, 253, 254 motivation of actors, 44, 250–2 Mt. Scopus, 130, 138, 140 Muslim Brotherhood, 183–7, 187f myth-symbol complexes ambiguity of symbols and appeal to differing audiences, 69 and Arab-Israeli War, 117 coalition mobilization and, 33, 34–5 ethnicity and, 250–1 as frame for Anglo-Irish politics, 75, 86, 109, 114 identity and, 9, 12–14, 33, 36–7 and legitimation strategies, 24 places as elements of, see sacred spaces resonance and, 24–5, 33 as series of social and cultural networks, 24 social networks and, 21 symbols and international legitimacy, 28 and territorial indivisibility, to, 14 yoking and, 36–7 Narkiss, Uzi, 149, 154 nationalism, 13, 14–15 European Union and Irish, 223, 248 globalization and, 248–9 Irish Republicans and radical, 62–3 and Jerusalem as indivisible territory, 39

288

Index

nationalism (cont.) myth-symbol complexes and national identity, 33 territorial indivisibility and, 51–4 See also Irish Nationalists National Religious Party (NRP, Israel), 128, 160, 176 coalition mobilization and, 171–3 and network changes in Israeli politics, 168f Religious Zionism and, 171–3, 205 See also Gush Emunim Young Guard of, 171–2 Neorealism, 253–4 Netanyahu, Benjamin, 116, 163, 195, 233 network density coalition mobilization and, 33 positioning of key actors and, 26, 33–4, 44, 91–2, 139, 169 network structure Anglo-Irish politics and network changes, 89f brokers and transformation of, 242–3 as constraint, 44–5 exogenous shocks and changes in, 242 as fluid or dynamic environments for actors, 44–5, 251–2 Israeli politics and network changes, 168f legitimation strategies and, 41 Palestinian politics and network changes, 187f switching and changes in, 32, 241 See also coalition mobilization; polarization network theory actors as embedded in network, 20–1, 20f, 251–2 and actors as transformed by conflict, 37 and agency of actors, 22 coalitions and, 21, 34 and creation of indivisibility, 38 and ethnic conflict, 250–2 and focus on social ties to resolve conflicts, 242–3 legitimation strategies and, 19–20 networks as influence on social actions, 22 overview of, 20–2 politics as network of actors, 21

structural constructivism and network analysis, 22n11 and switching effects of claims, 32 newspapers, as data sources, 44 Nexon, Daniel, 36 norm-internalization, 32 Northern Ireland, 3 British identity and, 216 consultative role in governance of Republic of Ireland in, 211 partitioning, 3, 7 relationship with Republic of Ireland, 212 North-South Ministerial Council (NSMC), 213, 229 Nusseibeh, Sari, 192 O’Brien, Conor Cruise, 64–5 O’Connell, Daniel, 27, 47–8, 53 O’Day Alan, 79 O’Kelly, James J., 72 O’Leary, Brendan, 222 Olmert, Ehud, 120, 195, 197, 233, 235 “Orange Card” and coalition mobilization, 82 Conservative use of, 56–7, 80, 82, 84–9, 84–90, 244, 246, 255 as cultural invention, 90 and delegitimation of Constitutional Nationalists, 80 imperial rhetoric neutralized by, 86–7, 104 polarizing effect of, 95–9, 246 and religious rhetoric in Anglo-Irish conflict, 56–7 switching effects and, 56–7, 82, 246 yoking and creation of Ulster as political identity, 89–92, 102, 105 Orange societies, 56–7, 91–2, 224–5, 235, 244–5 outbidding and changes in legitimation strategies, 28–9, 165–6, 186–7 Paisley, Ian, 214 Palestine coalition mobilization in, 188–95 Declaration of Principles, 116, 190, 192 as divisible, 128–9 Hamas as representative of, 190 Intifada and Islamic politics in, 183–7 Jerusalem as capital of, 119, 138, 202, 203

Index national identity of, 131–2, 178–83 network changes in Palestinian politics, 187 partitioning of, 124–5, 128–9, 131, 133, 184, 190, 192 PLO as representative of, 157, 178–83 as sovereign state, 116, 178–81, 185, 186, 204 See also Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO) Palestine National Covenant, 178 Palestinian Authority (PA), 116, 190–3 Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), 187f change in legitimation strategies by, 161–2 emergence of, 178–9 Fatah and, 160, 178–9, 179–83 Hamas and, 189–90, 191, 246–7 legitimacy of, 182–3 Muslim Brotherhood as competition for, 161–2 as national representative of Palestine, 157, 178–83 religious-nationalist rhetoric and, 177–8 as representative of Palestinian nationalism, 116 as secular organization, 161, 177, 181–2, 184–6 shift in legitimation strategies by, 183–7 as umbrella movement, 179 See also Fatah Palestinian nationalism and claims to Palestine, 131–2 symbolic power of Jerusalem and identity, 131 Pan-Arabism, 160, 178 Parnell, Charles Stewart, 48 ambiguity and, 68–70, 71, 76 coalition building and, 65 as identity bridge, 53, 64–5 political leadership and coalition building by, 61–2 positioning of, 27, 90n28 rhetoric used by, 66–70, 71 partitioning acceptability of, 240 and creation of Israel, 124–5, 131 of Ireland, 3, 7, 49–50, 56, 81, 103–5, 218, 220–1

289

laws constructed as barriers to, 12, 159–60, 195–9, 220–1 of Palestine, 129, 131, 133, 184, 190, 192 physical divisibility and, 7 See also Jerusalem, partitioning of Peel, Robert, 60 Peel Commission, 124–5, 129, 130, 133, 143 Peres, Shimon, 173, 195, 198 peripheral coalitions and polarization, 35–6, 96–8, 100–1, 174–7, 193 persuasion, 32 polarization, 38 change in legitimation strategies linked to, 35–6, 101–2, 161, 190–5, 241, 246–7, 255 and dissonance of legitimation strategies, 35–6 lock-in and, 38, 82, 95–102 and marginalization of moderates, 162, 175–6, 192–3 peripheral coalitions and, 35–6, 96–8, 100–1, 174–7, 193 religious-nationalist rhetoric and, 190–5 structural changes in political networks and depolarization, 234 Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), 179, 180–1, 182, 187f popular opinion as factor, 120, 204, 209n5, 211, 236 positioning of bridging actors, 37, 53, 64–5, 91–2, 192 of bridging actors as brokers, 34, 224–7, 231, 234–5, 237, 242 centrality of actor linked to coalition mobilization, 33–4 of Hume and Trimble linked to brokering of Belfast Agreement, 224–7, 234–5, 242 and legitimacy, 24–7 legitimation strategy and, 246 in multiple networks, 26 network density and, 26, 169 polarization and marginalization of moderates, 162, 175–6, 192–3 and power of elite actors, 15–16 resonance and, 25–7, 77 Powell, Robert, 10 Power, John O’Connor, 65

290

Index

power sharing consociational (cross-border) institutions and, 216, 218–19, 221, 222–3, 229–31, 234 failed attempts at, 210–11 Home Rule and provision for divided sovereignty in Ireland, 58, 59 internal governance of Northern Ireland and, 209, 212–13 and potential resolution of Israeli-Palestinian conflict, 234n101, 236 and resolution of Anglo-Irish conflict, 114, 209, 210–14, 218, 222–3, 226, 233, 235 St. Andrew’s agreement, 214 Sunningdale and provisions for, 210–11, 222–3 suspicion regarding, 218–19 precedent setting, as mechanism of indivisibility, 10–11 principle of consent, 223, 229–30 Principles of Territorial Settlement (agreement between Jordan and Israel), 138 process-tracing approach as methodology, 40–3 Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA), see Irish Republican Army (IRA) punishment, political, 16, 45, 113–14, 215, 241 Rabin, Yitzhak, 116, 120, 128, 163–5, 171, 172, 173 rational choice theory coalition mobilization and, 34 and fluidity of bargaining process as problematic, 30 indivisibility and, 18 legitimation strategies and, 30, 245–6, 252 rationalist theory and commitment problem as mechanism, 10–11 and indivisibility as result of bargaining dynamics, 9 legitimacy in, 27 and precedent setting as mechanism, 10, 11 See also rational choice theory recursivity, 42–3

Redmond, John, 99, 100–1, 105–6, 108 religion and Anglo-Irish conflict, 56–7, 60–1, 85–6 Irish Church Disestablishment Act, 60 Islamic law and politics as inseparable from, 119 myth-symbol complexes and legitimation strategies, 24 PLO/Fatah as secular organization, 161, 177, 181–2, 184–6, 245 sacred/secular distinction in constructions of Jerusalem, 140–1, 195, 203–7, 238 territorial indivisibility and religious conflict, 3, 9, 13–15, 39, 51–4 Zionism as distinct from Judaism, 120 See also religious-nationalist rhetoric; sacred spaces religious-nationalist rhetoric, 91 Abdullah’s use of, 147 and claims on Jerusalem, 123, 147 coalition mobilization and, 161, 173–4, 190–5 and construction of Jerusalem as indivisible, 194 dissonance and, 174–5 linked to polarization and marginalization of moderates, 193 PLO/Fatah and use of, 145, 177–8, 190–3, 246–7 polarization and, 98, 174–6 polarizing effect of use, 246–7 See also “Orange Card”; Religious Zionism Religious Zionism Likud Party and use of Religious Zionist rhetoric, 163, 245 and opposition to division of Jerusalem, 204 polarization linked to use of Religious Zionist rhetoric, 161, 246 as political agent, 173 and settlers’ movement, 193–4 switching effects and use of Religious Zionist rhetoric, 161 as synthesis of Zionist and religious symbols and discourse, 163 yoking effect and creation of new political actors, 161, 167–71 See also Gush Emunim

Index Republicans (Irish), 209 political parties representing, 217–19 Republican–Nationalist alliance, 63, 65–7, 70–2, 82, 100–1, 217–19 role in Irish Home Rule debate, 62–3 See also Irish Republican Army (IRA); Sinn F´ein Republic of Ireland consultative role in governance of Northern Ireland, 211 relationship with Northern Ireland, 209–11, 209–13, 223 role in peace process, 220–2 as sovereign state, 103, 110 reputation mechanisms, 11–12, 51, 54–7, 107 resonance, 15 ambiguous language and appeal to differing audiences, 28, 68–70, 221–2 content and, 77 and context, 24–5 degree of, 24–5 dissonance and alienation of audience, 34–5, 91, 96, 99, 100, 143–5, 166, 175, 193 interest and, 77 language barriers used to occlude dissonant messages, 181 legitimation theory and, 250–1 lock-in as unintended consequence of, 4 with multiple audiences, 28, 64, 68–70, 76–7, 180–1 multiple versions of documents and, 221–2 myth-symbol complexes and, 24–5, 33 network patterns and, 24–5 polarization and dissonance of legitimation strategies, 35–6 position of speaker and, 25–7, 77 selection of legitimation strategy as audience dependent, 26–8, 66–9 Revisionists (Israeli) change in rhetoric by, 145 division of Jerusalem opposed by, 143–5 historical and religious rhetoric used by, 143–5 legitimacy of, 144–5 Mapai and, 142–5 nationalism and, 128, 144 opposition to partition by, 142–5

291

religious rhetoric used by, 143–5 resonance of religious claims made by, 144, 245–6 violent factions and lack of legitimacy of, 144–5 Zionists and, 143–4, 168 Reynolds, Albert, 212, 237 rhetoric ambiguous language as strategic, 27, 28, 68–70, 71, 181–2 compromise and, 46, 69–70, 73 frames deployed by actors in, 32 identity creation and, 16, 36 language barriers used to occlude dissonant messages, 181 legitimation strategies deployed in, 4 legitimation theory and central importance of, 16 network constraints on, 25 newspapers and evidence of shifts in, 44 rationalist theory and value of, 16 rhetorical violence as appeal to audience, 66–7 strategic changes in, 46 Riker, William, 28–9, 32 Rubin, Barry, 181, 193 sacred spaces ambiguity and shared control of, 238 Beilin-Abu Mazen accords and shared sovereignty, 206 indivisibility of, 115, 118–19, 129, 149–50, 203–7, 243 introducing symbolic resources to legitimate shared ownership of sacred space, 238 myth-symbol complexes and, 117 and religious identity, 14 See also Jerusalem, as sacred space Salisbury, Robert Cecil, Lord, 59, 78, 83–4, 97 Samuel, Herbert, 130 Sasson, Eliyahu, 127, 135, 137, 138 Saunderson, Edward, 92 Schelling, Thomas, 29 security, as issue in negotiations Anglo-Irish politics and, 112, 223 Arab-Israeli politics and, 117, 152, 155, 163, 165–6, 175 British opposition to divided Jerusalem and, 134

292

Index

security, as issue in negotiations (cont.) elites and, 9 maximalist claims to “Greater Israel” and, 143 security fences dividing Jerusalem, 197 between Israel and West Bank, 233 Serbo-Croatian War, 10–11, 12, 33 settlements, Israeli expansion Allon plan and, 152, 165–6 Arab-Israeli negotiations and, 117–18, 151, 194, 199 and demographic domination, 140, 150–1, 201 domestic Israeli politics and issue of, 164–7, 171–3, 176, 201–2, 204–5 and “hardening” of Jerusalem’s boundaries, 201–2 in Jerusalem, 129, 131, 150–2, 159, 201, 202 maximalism regarding, 143, 144, 150–1, 159–60, 238 Palestinian Arabs and revolt in response to, 124 radical settlement movement as emergent political actor, 167–71, 204–5 Religious Zionism and, 193–4, 201–2 Zionism and, 142, 163, 193–4 Shamir, Yitzhak, 163, 174, 201 Shapira, Haim Moshe, 171 Sharett, Moshe, 127n8, 128–9, 130, 135 Sharon, Ariel, 117, 120, 163, 173–4, 195, 197, 201, 205, 233 Sharrett, Moshe, 135 Shlaim, Avi, 127, 136 Shultz, George, 182–3 Sinn F´ein, 62, 74 Anglo-Irish war triggered by, 50, 103 Belfast Agreement and, 209n4, 211, 212–14, 232, 237 constraints on, 35, 111 constructive ambiguity and legitimacy of, 231–2 declaration of independence by, 50, 103, 110 Easter Rising and, 109–10 emergence of, 50, 101, 103 Hume and, 226–7 IRA and, 211n16, 217–18, 231–2, 237 Irish Parliamentary Party and Constitutional Nationalists

delegitimized and replaced by, 101–2, 107–10, 111 Irish self-determination and, 217–19, 220, 223 participation in multi-party talks by, 209n4 polarization and legitimation strategies of, 35–6, 101–2 power-sharing solution and, 217–18 split over Anglo-Irish Treaty, 113–14 Six Day War (1967), 115, 149–50, 171 changes in legitimation strategies after, 45, 123, 150, 162, 163, 165, 171 emergence of Palestinian nationalism and, 160, 178–9 PLO emergence after, 178–9 Smith, Anthony, 9 Snyder, Jack, 31 Social Democratic Labor Party (SDLP, Ireland), 210, 211–12, 217–19, 220 Belfast Agreement and Hume’s leadership of, 225–7 social network theory, see network theory social norms, 28 Southern Unionists and Conservatives, 93, 96–9, 97 Constitutional Nationalists and, 99–100, 101 devolution proposed by, 90, 97–9, 101 and polarizing effect of “Orange Card,” 96–9 tension between Ulster Unionists and, 93, 97 Spencer, Lord, 76 Sprinzak, Ehud, 171 Stern Gang (Lohamei Herut Israel), 145 structural constructivism, 22 Sunningdale Agreement (1973), 210–11, 216–17, 218, 221, 225–6, 234 context conference and failure of, 210–11 power-sharing provisions in, 222–3 as precursor for Belfast Agreement, 222–3 switching changes in network structure and, 32, 241 indivisibility and, 31–2 mechanisms of, see coalition mobilization; polarization; yoking methodology and evidence of, 45

Index Religious Zionist rhetoric and, 161 resonance and, 32 and structured comparison as methodology, 43 symbols, see myth-symbol complexes Taiwan, as indivisible territory, 2 Taylor, John, 229 Tehiya party (Israeli), 197 Temple Mount/al-Haram al-Sharif, 117, 118–19, 120, 142, 144, 149, 153–5, 165, 175–6, 203, 204–6, 208, 234, 238 Thatcher, Margaret, 211, 217, 220 Tilly, Charles, 20, 36 time as division mechanism, 8 passage of time linked to reduced negotiability, 5 temporal frame for research and data collection, 43–4 variability of territorial indivisibility over time and space, 12 Toft, Monica, 11 Tone, Wolfe, 218 Transjordan, 126, 133, 136–7, 145–6, 147 See also Abdullah I, King of Jordan Trimble, David, 214, 216 brokering of Belfast Agreement, 34, 224–7, 231, 234–5, 237, 242 Tudjman, Franjo, 33, 35 Twelfth Palestinian National Convention (PNC) Program, 179–80 two-state solution, 116, 143, 192, 236 Ulster autonomy and “Home Rule within Home Rule,” 106–7 Conservative use of “Orange Card,” 56–7, 82, 84–90 and indivisibility of Ireland, 38–9, 104–7 opposition to Home Rule, 49, 53 opposition to partitioning, 49 Orange societies of, 56–7, 91–2, 224–5, 235, 244–5 religious identity and, 53 social divisions with, 89–90 yoking and creation as new political identity, 82, 89–92, 105 See also Unionists (Northern Ireland)

293

Ulster rhetoric, see “Orange Card” Unionists (Northern Ireland), 49, 82, 89–90, 92, 97–9, 209 Anglo-Irish Agreement and, 217 Belfast Agreement and Trimble’s leadership of, 224–7 identity politics and, 229 Loyalists and, 210n11 political parties representing, 216 power-sharing rejected by, 211 principle of consent as requirement of, 223, 229–30 Sunningdale Agreement and, 210, 216–17 and Sunningdale Conference, 210 United Kingdom, see England United Nations and internationalized Jerusalem, 122, 136, 138, 148, 153 norms and legitimacy of states, 254–5 PLO and, 182 role in Arab-Israeli politics, 162 role in the establishment of Jewish and Palestinian states, 125, 134–5 United States Bible invoked as authority in appeal to, 164 legitimacy of, 253 role in Arab-Israeli politics, 162 Vasquez, John, 5, 12–13 violence constructive ambiguity and, 217–18, 232 indivisibility and, 208 IRA and armed struggle, 208, 210–11, 217–18, 220, 232 Islamic politics and, 184 Jewish Underground and, 205n188 Loyalists and, 210–11 Muslim Brotherhood and prohibition of, 184 PLO and armed struggle, 179–80 renunciation of violence tied to admission to democratic process, 212–13 terrorism, 50, 103–4, 116, 179, 205n188, 210–11, 220 See also war violent rhetoric, 66–7, 100 Voeten, Eric, 254–5

294

Index

Wahrhaftig, Zerach, 154 Walid Khalidi, 182 Walt, Stephen, 253 Walter, Barbara, 5, 11 Waqf, 154–5, 175, 204, 206 war, 7, 9 indivisibility and, 115, 208 rational interest and avoidance of, 5–6, 10 rhetoric of commitment and, 103 See also Specific War of 1967, 123 Wasserstein, Bernard, 121, 130, 182n92 Weissbrod, Lilly, 173 Weizmann, Chaim, 129, 130 Weizmann, Ezer, 175 Wilson, Harold, 219 Wyndham, George, 98 Yassin, Ahmed, 186, 189 Yerushalayim (West Jerusalem), 130–1, 140, 200, 202, 234, 247 yoking, 16, 36–7 and actors as identity bridges, 37 change in legitimation strategies linked

to, 89–92, 102, 105, 161, 167–71, 187–91, 241, 246–7, 255 Hamas created as new political identity, 187–90, 246–7 lock-in and, 38, 82 myth-symbol complexes and, 36–7 Religious Zionist rhetoric and, 161, 167–71 and Ulster created as new political identity, 82, 89–92, 105 Young, Hugo, 225 Zionism and claims to Palestine, 128–31 as distinct from Judaism, 120 and divisibility of Jerusalem, 128–31 and evolution of Religious Zionist rhetoric, 163, 165 Labor Party and, 171–3 Mapai and, 141 religious rhetoric used by, 141–2 Revisionists and, 143–4, 168 secular philosophy of, 120, 141–2 and settlements, 142, 163, 193–4 See also Religious Zionism