AJC Mideast Briefing

Far More than Four: Questions Crowd our Seder Table A Weekly Briefing on Israeli and Middle Eastern Affairs April 10, 2006 Dr. Eran Lerman Director Israel/Middle East Office As we sit (or, as we should, slouch) at our heavily-laden Seder tables this week, the questions will be there—whether in the forefront of animated political conversations, or at the back of our minds, as we solemnly read our ancient texts of slavery and redemption: many more than the traditional four, and focused on our immediate future course rather than on our storied past. In almost every way, this is a time of troubling uncertainties. The outcome of the Knesset elections may have secured for Ehud Olmert, a seasoned and sophisticated politician, the helm of the ship of state and the statesman's stature he has long dreamt of, but the specific party balance, the prospects for stable governance, the matching of people to portfolios, and the policy guidelines on the key issues are all still in flux. How profoundly will the course of social and economic policy change, compared with the rough-edged budget cutting of Binyamin Netanyahu's years as minister of finance, now that the Labor Party and the new and not-quite-so-grandfatherly prodigy, the Pensioners Party, led by former spymaster Rafi Eitan) have a claim on fiscal decisions? How many of the gains in religious pluralism and tolerance, painstakingly achieved when Shinui shared power with Ariel Sharon, will now be undone with Shas back on board? Will Kadima, a quickly created list of ambitious men—and one prominent woman—hold together as a party of governance when the daily grind of political life comes to bear upon it? Meanwhile, immense questions posed by regional and international developments loom large on the near horizon. Can Iran under Ali Khamene'i and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad be trusted with the bomb? (At least we know the answer to that one!) Will the world act effectively? (Well, maybe ... and then again, maybe not.) What should we be prepared for, if Iran decides to use terrorist proxies such as Islamic Jihad or Hizballah in the north to lash out? (The worst—all the way up to a full-scale conflict, involving Syria as well as Lebanon.) Will the acrid smoke from the fires of fitna (Arabic for civil strife) fanned by the insurgents in Iraq, and by those dragged into their homicidal trap of communal hatred, obscure or even strangle the few signs of hope for change in the region? If that happens, what will become of the authority and prestige of the U.S.? Will our peace partners in the Arab world survive? All this before we even mention the Palestinian question(s). Here, a peculiar paradox, or should we say, one more paradox, is at work. As Israeli public opinion faces the consequences of the August 2005 Disengagement—and the prospects for the 2007- 2009 "Consolidation" (or, as the Orange camp calls it, the next "eviction" or "expulsion"), firmly put forward by Olmert—one would expect some bitter second thoughts: The intensifying barrage of Qassam rockets and even an occasional Katyusha (with a 21-km. range) aimed at Ashkelon—with Islamic Jihad, subsidized and prodded by Iran, taking the lead—seems to confirm the dire warnings of the right, ever since Oslo, that any concession to the Palestinians brings death and ruin a step closer top our homes and industrial centers; The supposedly solid front of friends in the world, gained by the painful and brave sacrifices made this summer, seems to be in danger of fraying at any moment, as second thoughts about the attitude toward Hamas are weighed in policy circles (at least in Europe). Politically, Kadima and the other parties that strongly supported the unilateral disengagement, Labor and Meretz, did not do as well as they may have hoped in the Knesset elections—with 44 percent of the votes (53 seats) among them, so that even the ideologically lukewarm pensioners (with 7) are not enough to bring them to 61 out of 120. (The nationalist right has 32, in three parties, and the ultra-Orthodox, who are not likely to be any happier with the "uprooting of Jews," have 18; the three Arab parties, with 10 seats between them, will oppose any unilateral step they see as consolidating Israeli rule in the areas not evacuated.) The process of compensation and resettlement for the evacuees—while costing huge sums of money—has gone badly in many respects and left hundreds of families angry and frustrated: not a good "promo" for the far larger project planned for some 40,000–70,000 settlers now living in the inner areas of the West Bank. The violence in Amona indicates that the relatively calm evictions in August may not repeat themselves. And yet Olmert's vision (still laid out in general terms, but there are indications that some specific planning—maps, dates, money—is already underway) remains the "only game in town," so much so that neither Shas nor Avigdor Lieberman's Yisrael Beiteinu tried too hard to subvert it in their initial negotiations with Kadima. On the contrary, they both seemed eager to redefine their positions to fit with what is increasingly the mainstream position in Israeli public life. The reasons are equally clear—and sad: As we watch the bloody anarchy on the other side—a bifurcated "government" (the term itself begins to sound ironic); dozens of armed groups; irresponsible firing of Qassams; theft and corruption; terrorist murderers sitting in the cabinet; the usual charade of weasel words in English complemented by poisonous propaganda in Arabic, as if we are still as naïve as we once were; and this list is far from exhaustive—the instinctive response is quite simply that the time has come for us to go our separate ways. These are not people—by which I mean the reckless political class, not the hard-working ordinary Palestinians—whom we want to share our future with, nor trust to honor any paper they might sign. Call it "Consolidation," "Convergence," Disengagement, separation, eviction, even (as the radical right-wingers would suggest) "ethnic cleansing"—what we really want is a divorce. We tried; it did not work. This matrimony was not made in heaven. A two-state solution is no longer a favor we offer "them," but rather it is about "us" and who we want to be. We need to be, in the words of the Haggada, "b'nei horin,"—children of freedom, free to choose our fate, no longer chained to the will (and in this case, ill will) of others—even if freedom comes, as it often does, at a heartbreaking cost, and in this case, with a painful carving of our ancestral homeland. Then we shall let our reliable IDF and intelligence agencies deal with the residual threats, but first, we need to make our own decisions. Many Israelis will be raising their glasses on Seder night with this thought in mind.

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