Al-Ahram Weekly
13 - 19 July 2000
Issue No. 490
Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 Issues navigation Current Issue Previous Issue Back Issues

 
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Riding the storm

By Graham Usher

When President Bill Clinton announced the convening of the Camp David summit last week, Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak promised to make every effort to resolve the conflict with the Palestinians "even if I have only nine ministers and a quarter of the Knesset behind me." It was intended as a supreme expression of determination. It turned out to be one of the few accurate predictions the Israeli leader has made.

Less than a week later, Barak's cabinet was indeed reduced to nine ministers, and his coalition slashed from a 67 majority to a 42 minority in the 120-member Knesset. To round things off, on 10 July Barak's government lost two Knesset no confidence motions submitted by the Likud opposition in protest at the "dangerous concessions" he is allegedly about to offer Yasser Arafat in Washington.

Even by the tumultuous measure of Israeli politics, this was some reckoning. For the Palestinians and Arabs generally it was testimony not only that Barak has never been weaker, but also that Israeli society remains utterly unprepared to make the decisions required for even a partial resolution of "the 100-year conflict."

The man who unleashed the deluge was Natan Sharansky, leader of the four-member Russian Immigrant Yisrael Baaliya Party and former Soviet dissident. Submitting his resignation to the cabinet on 9 July, Sharansky charged that Barak "has no consensus among the people or the government" for an agreement that could involve Israel giving up 90 per cent of the West Bank.

The five-member National Religious Party swiftly followed suit, though less out of a desire for "consensus" than from the demands of its settler constituency. The settler movement in the West Bank and Gaza is presently gearing up for a massive campaign across Israel in protest at any agreement that would "exile" 50,000 settlers to the confines of a Palestinian "state." (Barak countered -- accurately -- that an agreement that kept 350,000 out of the 400,000 settlers under Israeli rule would actually be a "tremendous accomplishment" for the Jewish state).


Clinton, Arafat and Barak take a relaxing walk in the woods of Camp David before the opening of peace talks on Tuesday. Twenty-two years ago, the late President Sadat, Israel's Prime Minister Begin and former US President Carter met at the same place to open the door for peace in the Middle East.
Barak had long anticipated the defection of his settler and Russian allies in government. What he almost certainly did not expect was what came next. Some way into the cabinet meeting it became clear that his "warm friend and ally" (and Foreign Minister), David Levy, would not be journeying with him to Washington.

Like Sharansky, Levy believes only a National Unity government can make a final status agreement with the Palestinians. He also thinks the summit is "premature," given the Palestinians' "inflexibility" on such issues as sovereignty in East Jerusalem and the right of return for the refugees. Above all, he is miffed that his prerogative in foreign policy has been usurped in recent months by such high-flying Israeli "doves" as Shlomo Ben-Ami, Yossi Beilin and Haim Ramon. "Peace is dear to everyone," he told the cabinet on 9 July, "but not at any price or by any means."

But it was the 17-member Shas party that delivered the killer punch. For the last several months, Barak has gone to inordinate lengths to keep the Sephardi orthodox movement loyal, at least until after the outcome of the summit. He presided over the resignation from his government of ministers belonging to the secularist -- and vehemently anti-Shas -- Meretz faction. He supported a deeply unpopular piece of legislation that effectively exempts religious students from serving in the Israeli army. The need was obvious: without Shas on his side Barak could not make the claim that he was "the prime minister of everyone."

To no avail. Clearly knowing a Titanic when they are in one, on 9 July Shas members too jumped ship, protesting that without clear "red lines" Israelis "do not know what the end of the process will bring." The charge was disingenuous of course. For everyone is aware of Barak's "red lines," and he rehearsed them again both at the cabinet meeting and at the Knesset: a "united" Jerusalem under Israel's sovereignty; no return to the 1967 borders; the annexation of most settlers in settlement blocs in the West Bank; and the refusal to take either moral or legal responsibility for the plight of the Palestinian refugees.

Throughout the turmoil, Barak assumed the stoic posture of the sunken liner's captain, insisting that he had been elected by the people "not to keep things as they are but to lead." It was hubris. Israel is many things but it is not a dictatorship (at least not within its 1967 borders). And whether Barak returns from Camp David with an agreement in his pocket or without one, all Israelis are aware that it is no longer a question of if there will be early elections, but when.

Against such storms, the Palestinians appear like an oasis of unruffled equanimity and unanimity. Buoyed by the backing he received from the PLO's Central Council last week to declare a state on 13 September or soon thereafter, Arafat took with him to Washington a 50-strong Palestinian delegation. Among them are leaders from such dissident factions as the Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine (DFLP) and the Palestine People's (formerly Communist) Party. "We decided to participate in the Washington summit," said DFLP politburo member Taysir Khaled on 8 July, "to face the Israeli and American pressure as a united front." The widest possible front is going to be needed. For the weaker Barak is domestically the greater the pressure he would be expected to put on Arafat to yield "flexibility" on all the final status issues.

Finally, on 9 July PLO negotiator, Yasser Abed Rabbo, "promised" that any agreement reached with Israel would be subject to a Palestinian referendum, "like for the Israelis," both in the occupied territories and, if possible, beyond them.

Despite such assurances, Palestinians are fearful that the "united national front" may crumple in the hothouse of the Camp David retreat. Nor were their anxieties assuaged when, on 6 July, PLO negotiator and "economic advisor" to Arafat, Khaled Salam, said that in any final status agreement the Palestinians would demand compensation of $40 billion, including $20 billion for the refugees. The basic position of the Palestinians -- reaffirmed at the PLO's Central Council meeting -- is that there can be no talk of compensation separate from Israel's acknowledgment of the Palestinian refugees' right of return. "We call on President Arafat to put an end to all those who promote non-national ideas," said head of the Palestine Legislative Committee on refugees and council member, Jamil Shati, politely on 8 July.

Unlike Salam, Shati is a refugee from a camp. And he knows that any deal that chooses compensation over return would make the squalls that buffeted Barak last week appear small indeed compared to those that would assail any Palestinian leadership that approved it.


Relates stories:
Getting down to the wire-6 - 12 July 2000
The phantom city - 29 June - 5 July 2000
Business as usual- 4 - 10 May 2000

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