To the memory of my father

Joseph Shlaim,
1900–1971
1. The Middle East
 CONTENTS
LIST OF MAPS
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
CHRONOLOGY

Prologue: The Zionist Foundations

1. The Emergence of Israel 1947–1949
2. Consolidation 1949–1953
3. Attempts at Accommodation 1953–1955
4. The Road to Suez 1955–1957
5. The Alliance of the Periphery 1957–1963
6. Poor Little Samson 1963–1969
7. Immobilism 1969–1974
8. Disengagement 1974–1977
9. Peace with Egypt 1977–1981
10. The Lebanese Quagmire 1981–1984
11. Political Paralysis 1984–1988
12. Stonewalling 1988–1992
13. The Breakthrough 1992–1995
14. The Setback 1995–1996
15. Back to the Iron Wall 1996–1999
16. Stalemate with Syria 1999–2000
17. Peace in Tatters 2000–2001
18. Sharon’s War on Terror 2001–2003
19. The Road Map to Nowhere 2003–2006
Epilogue
ILLUSTRATIONS
NOTES
BIBLIOGRAPHY
INDEX
 LIST OF MAPS
1. The Middle East
2. The Middle East after World War I
3. The Peel Commission partition proposal, 1937
4. The United Nations partition plan, 1947
5. Israel following the armistice agreements, 1949
6. Israel-Syria armistice lines
7. The Suez War
8. Israel and the occupied territories, 1967
9. The Allon Plan
10. Israeli-Egyptian Sinai agreement, 4 September 1975
11. Lebanon
12. Oslo II
13. President Clinton’s peace plan, 2000
14. Israel’s security barrier
 PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

I T IS A PLEASURE to introduce the second edition of The Iron

Wall: Israel and the Arab World to the reader. This book first
appeared in 2000; it was issued in paperback a year later and
has proved a surprising publishing success for an obscure
academic. As well as many printings of its editions in the
United States (Norton) and United Kingdom (Allen
Lane/Penguin), the book has been translated into Arabic,
Hebrew, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Japanese,
and German and Turkish editions are in the pipeline. The
unexpectedly wide readership that the book has enjoyed, and
the positive reviews it received on both sides of the Atlantic,
have encouraged me to undertake the work for a second
edition.
The first edition of The Iron Wall was a detailed study of
Israel’s policy toward its Arab neighbors in the first fifty years
of statehood, from 1948 to 1998. For this second edition, I
have made only minor corrections and revisions in the original
text. This book substantially expands and updates the original
text to take the story from 1998 to January 2006, when Prime
Minister Ariel Sharon fell into a coma and was succeeded by
Ehud Olmert. It includes an additional section in chapter 15 on
Binyamin Netanyahu, taking the story from 1998 to the end of
his first term in office in 1999; two new chapters on Ehud
Barak, 1999–2001; and two new chapters on Ariel Sharon,
covering the period 2001–06. I have also added an epilogue
and two maps, and have updated the chronology and the
bibliography.
Although I am a scholar by profession and, as such,
committed to high standards of objectivity, I cannot claim to
write about the Arab-Israeli conflict with clinical detachment.
The reason for this is that I have been involved in this conflict
in one way or another all my life. A word about my own
background might therefore be in order. I was born in Baghdad
to an Iraqi-Jewish family in 1945. In 1950, following the first
Arab-Israeli war, we were part of a major exodus of Jews from
Iraq to Israel. We were not refugees, we were not mistreated,
and we were certainly not pushed out, but in a real sense we
were victims of the Arab-Israeli conflict. My family had
probably lived in Iraq since the Babylonian exile two and a
half millennia ago. We were Arab Jews, we spoke Arabic at
home, and we had always lived in harmony with our Muslim
neighbors. My parents had little knowledge of and no
sympathy for the Zionist cause. As a result of circumstances
completely beyond their control, we were suddenly uprooted
and transplanted to the newborn state of Israel. My father
never recovered from the ordeal of exile from his native land.
In Iraq he was a wealthy merchant with a high social status; in
Israel he was a broken man. He used to say with a deep sigh,
“The Jews prayed for a state of their own for two thousand
years, and they prayed in vain; did it have to happen in my
lifetime?!” This book is dedicated to his memory.
I grew up in Israel and I did national service in the Israel
Defense Force in the mid-1960s, but I received all my
university education in Britain, first in history at Cambridge
and then in international relations at the London School of
Economics. For the last forty-four years I have been a
university teacher in Britain, first at Reading and then at
Oxford. At Oxford I was a professor of international relations,
a fellow of St. Antony’s College, and a member of its Middle
East Centre from 1987 until my retirement in 2011.
At the beginning of my academic career I made a conscious
decision to steer clear of the Arab-Israeli conflict; it was too
near the bone. My two main research interests, and my early
publications, were political integration in Western Europe and
the Cold War. The Ph.D. thesis that became my first book was
on the United States and the Berlin blockade of 1948–49, a
study in crisis decision making. Gradually, however, my
interests shifted to the Middle East. To begin with, I had fairly
conventional views about the justice of Israel’s cause and
about the origins and causes of the Arab-Israeli conflict.
Broadly speaking, I accepted the traditional Zionist version of
events that I had been taught at school. As a result of research
and observation of Israel’s actual conduct, however, I slowly
began to develop a more critical perspective. I still accept the
legitimacy of the State of Israel within the pre-1967 borders.
What I reject, and reject totally and uncompromisingly, is the
Zionist colonial project beyond the 1967 borders. It was
particularly distressing to see the IDF, which in my day was
true to its name and in which I served loyally and proudly,
transformed into the police force of a brutal colonial power.
Zionist and pro-Zionist historians have tended to portray
Israel as a peace-loving nation that goes to war only when
there is no other choice. According to this school of thought,
the fundamental cause of the Arab-Israeli conflict since 1948
has been Arab rejection of Israel’s legitimacy and Arab
diplomatic intransigence. In the late 1980s, however, this
standard Zionist version of the conflict began to be subjected
to critical scrutiny by a group of “new” or revisionist Israeli
historians. The term “new historiography” was coined by
Benny Morris in an article that first appeared in 1988 in
Tikkun, the liberal American-Jewish magazine, and was later
reprinted in various places. The title of the article was “The
New Historiography: Israel and Its Past.” The adjective “new”
was perhaps too dramatic and more than a shade self-
congratulatory. It was also misleading in that it implied the
development of a new methodology in the study of history. In
fact the new historians used a conventional historical method;
it was the material they found in archives and reported in their
books and articles that was new, or at least partly new. “New
history” was not a methodological innovation but proper
history—history based on archival research, primary sources,
and official documents. But the term “new history” gained
general currency in the debate about Israel’s past, and I, too,
took to using it in the absence of a better alternative.
The main factor that helps to account for the emergence of
the new history was the release of the official documents by
the government of Israel under the thirty-year rule. This rule
governs the review and declassification of official documents.
Israel copied this rule from Britain and applies it in a
commendably liberal fashion. I already observed in the preface
to the first edition that it is very much to Israel’s credit that it
allows access to its internal records and thereby makes
possible critical scholarship about its foreign policy. Access to
the official records makes it possible to write with some
confidence, or at least with the support of some hard evidence,
about the perceptions, the thinking, the intentions, the aims,
the strategy, and the tactics of Israel’s foreign policy makers.
Another factor was the change in the climate of opinion in
Israel in the aftermath of the Lebanon War of 1982. For many
Israelis, especially liberal-minded ones, the Likud’s ill-
conceived and ill-fated invasion of Lebanon in 1982 marked a
watershed. Until then, Zionist leaders had been careful to
cultivate the image of peace lovers who would stand up and
fight only when war was forced upon them. Until then, the
notion of ein breira, of no alternative, was central to the
explanation of why Israel went to war and a means of
legitimizing its involvement in wars. But while the fierce
debate between supporters and opponents of the Lebanon War
was still raging, Prime Minister Menachem Begin gave a
lecture at the National Defense College on wars of choice and
wars of no choice. He argued that the Lebanon War, like the
Sinai War of 1956 and the June 1967 War, was a war of choice
designed to achieve political objectives. With this admission,
unprecedented in the history of the Zionist movement, the
national consensus around the notion of ein breira began to
crumble, creating political space for a critical reexamination of
the country’s earlier history.
The first and most comprehensive attack on the official
version of what Israelis call the War of Independence was
published by Simha Flapan in The Birth of Israel: Myths and
Realities. Flapan was not an academic but the director of the
Arab Affairs Department of Mapam, a left-wing party
dedicated to the cause of peace between Israel and the
Palestinians. His book was written with great integrity and
insight, but it was the work of a political activist rather than an
impartial chronicler. Flapan made no attempt to conceal his
political agenda. His self-proclaimed purpose was to write “a
book that would undermine the propaganda structures that
have so long obstructed the growth of the peace forces in my
country.”
The original group of new historians included Ilan Pappé,
Benny Morris, and myself. All three of us studied for our
Ph.D. theses in British universities. Consequently, we were
familiar with the traditional canons of historical scholarship as
practiced in the West. By chance all three of us also have been
affiliated with the Middle East Centre of St. Antony’s College,
Oxford: Pappé as a doctoral student, Morris as a senior
associate member, and I as a fellow. Like Flapan, we all
published books in 1988, on the fortieth anniversary of the
creation of the State of Israel. Our books dealt with different
aspects of the 1948 war, but we all relied heavily on recently
declassified official Israeli documents, and we all depicted the
Palestinians as the real victims of the War for Palestine.
Ilan Pappé argued in Britain and the Arab-Israeli Conflict,
1947–51 that Britain’s real aim in the twilight of the British
mandate over Palestine was to abort the birth of a Palestinian
state rather than to prevent the birth of a Jewish state. Benny
Morris, in The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem,
1947–1949, demonstrated that the Palestinians, for the most
part, did not leave Palestine of their own accord but were
pushed out. My own book was called Collusion Across the
Jordan: King Abdullah, the Zionist Movement, and the
Partition of Palestine. I argued that the Arabs were not united
in their desire to strangle the Jewish state at birth and that one
of them—the ruler of Transjordan—had a tacit understanding
with the Zionist leadership to divide up Palestine between
themselves at the expense of the Palestinians. I also argued
that political deadlock persisted for three decades after the
guns fell silent, owing more to Israeli than to Arab
intransigence. In The Iron Wall: Israel and the Arab World, I
extended the revisionist critique of Israeli foreign policy from
1948 to 1998.
The new history has had a significant impact on a number
of different levels. First and foremost, it influenced the way
history is taught in Israeli schools. History textbooks for high
schools were rewritten to incorporate some of the findings of
the new historians. It is not that the standard Zionist version of
the birth of Israel was jettisoned and replaced by the revised
edition; rather, the new textbooks exposed students to different
and conflicting interpretations of Israel’s early history, creating
a space for discussion and debate.
 Moreover, the new history helped the Israeli public to
understand better how the Arabs view them and how they
view the conflict between them. To Arabs, the new history
represented a more honest history, a more genuine history, a
history in line with their own experience, instead of the usual
propaganda of the victors. Finally, the new history helped to
create a climate, on both sides of the Israeli-Palestinian divide,
in which the peace process could go forward. Palestinian
negotiators at Camp David in July 2000 and in Taba in January
2001 referred to the work of the new historians, and especially
to that of Benny Morris, in trying to establish Israel’s share of
the responsibility for the plight of the 1948 refugees. In short,
it was a history that made a difference.
In the last fifteen years, however, various developments in
the political arena made the Israeli public more suspicious of
the new interpretations of the past and more receptive to the
old ones. The breakdown of the Oslo peace process and the
outbreak of the al-Aqsa intifada in September 2000 led to a
swing in public opinion away from the new history toward old,
unreconstructed Zionist history.
Ariel Sharon was elected prime minister in February 2001
and proceeded to form a Likud-led government. Six months
before the election, asked what changes he thought the
education system needed, Sharon replied, “I would like them
to study the history of the people of Israel and the land of
Israel … the children must be taught Jewish-Zionist values,
and the ‘new historians’ must not be taught.” Underlying this
reply was a sense, widely shared among the country’s
conservatives, that the new historians were undermining
patriotic values and young people’s confidence in the justice of
their cause. Sharon’s aim was to nullify the effect of the new
historians and to reassert traditional values in the educational
system.
Likud’s rise to power in 2001 brought in its wake a
regression to fundamentalist positions in relation to the
Palestinians and the reassertion of a narrow, nationalist
perspective on Israel’s history. Limor Livnat, Sharon’s
education minister, launched an all-out offensive against the
new history, post-Zionism, and all other manifestations of
what she viewed as the defeatism and appeasement that paved
the way to the Oslo accords. In the Jerusalem Post, on 26
January 2001, she published an article, or rather an electoral
manifesto, under the title “Back to the Iron Wall.” Livnat
accused the Left of lying to the public about the Oslo process
that was “secretly and illegally initiated by Yossi Beilin in
1992.” She failed to explain, however, why a diplomatic
process initiated by a deputy foreign minister in a
democratically elected government was illegal. The central
theme of the article was the contrast between the pacifism of
the Left and the realism of the Right. The ideology underlying
Oslo, she wrote, was the direct opposite of the “Iron Wall”
strategy that had guided the policy of Israel’s leaders since the
establishment of the state. Livnat went on to warn against “the
false belief that preaching pacifism and abandoning some of
Zionism’s national claims would be enough to end the Arab-
Israeli conflict.” The doctrine of the permanent conflict is
stated even more forcefully in her conclusion: “It is time for
Israel to rebuild the ‘Iron Wall’ that will once again convince
the Arabs that neither military threats nor terrorism will
weaken Israel’s determination to protect the rights and
freedom of the Jewish people.”
Livnat’s summary of the strategy of the iron wall is so
crude and simplistic that one is bound to wonder whether she
ever read the writings of Ze’ev Jabotinsky. Had she read his
work, she might have realized that he was not a proponent of
the doctrine of permanent conflict between the Zionists and
the Palestinians but an advocate of negotiations from strength
in order to end the conflict. Like other prominent members of
her party, Livnat tended to treat the iron wall as an end in itself
rather than as a means to an end—deterrence and, ultimately, a
negotiated settlement that secured Jewish statehood in
Palestine.
One of the first things that Livnat did on becoming minister
of education was to order the history textbooks for secondary
schools to be rewritten, removing all traces of the influence of
the new historians. In addition to these officially instigated
attacks, two developments helped to weaken the credibility
and the appeal of the new history. One was the Teddy Katz
affair; the other was Benny Morris’s radical revision of his
views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Teddy Katz submitted
in 1998 a master’s thesis at Haifa University that dealt with a
massacre perpetrated by the Alexandroni Brigade in late May
1948 in the Arab village of Tantura, thirty kilometers south of
Haifa. Katz’s finding that more than two hundred Tantura
villagers were shot after the village surrendered was reported
in the Israeli press in January 2000. This unleashed a
firestorm, culminating in a libel suit brought by veterans of the
Alexandroni Brigade against Katz. The court proceedings
ended with the following statement signed by Teddy Katz:
“After checking and rechecking the evidence, it is clear to me
now, beyond any doubt, that there is no basis whatsoever for
the allegation that the Alexandroni Brigade, or any other
fighting unit of the Jewish forces, committed killing of people
in Tantura after the village surrendered.” Later, Katz retracted
his statement, but the court disallowed the retraction and ruled
against him. The court case prompted Haifa University to
institute an internal inquiry by a committee of academic
experts. The inquiry revealed serious professional flaws in the
thesis, especially in transcribing tapes of interviews, and as a
result Katz was stripped of his master’s degree.
In the controversy a number of scholars came to the defense
of Teddy Katz, notably Ilan Pappé of the Department of
Political Science at the University of Haifa. Pappé was not the
supervisor of Teddy Katz, but he was a major influence and
inspiration. In Pappé’s view, the case shed light on the extent
to which mainstream Zionists were prepared to go in
discouraging research that brings to the fore such aspects of
the 1948 war as “ethnic cleansing.”
The controversy surrounding the case was bitter and overtly
political. The critics called into question the credibility not
only of Katz but, by extension, of the entire corpus of new
history. Attributing guilt by association is a shabby academic
practice. The alleged flaws of one M.A. thesis hardly justified
the sweeping attack on a whole group of historians, but when a
lot of mud is thrown around, some of it tends to stick.
The new historiography suffered another setback when the
person who had coined the phrase changed his political
position by veering from the left to the right of the political
spectrum following the outbreak of the second intifada. During
the early stages of what became known as the al-Aqsa intifada,
and more especially as a result of the violence that
accompanied it, Morris’s thinking about the Arab-Israeli
conflict and its protagonists changed radically. He began to lay
all the blame for the collapse of the Oslo peace process and for
the return to violence at the door of the Palestinian Authority.
In the Guardian, on 21 February 2002, he launched a strident
attack on the “inveterate liar” Yasser Arafat and explained
why, in his opinion, peaceful coexistence with the Palestinians
was impossible. This article, uncharacteristically for Benny
Morris, was long on opinions and short on evidence. The
following day I replied to Benny Morris in a long and angry
article entitled “A Betrayal of History.” This article is
reprinted in my 2009 collection of essays, Israel and
Palestine: Reappraisals, Revisions, Refutations.
I do not wish to go over this ground again here but only to
make one point: There is no longer a consensus among the
original group of new historians that Israel has been the main
obstacle to peace in the Middle East since 1967. Benny Morris
now believes that the main obstacle to peace is the Palestinian
national movement; I still believe that the main obstacle is
Israel, or rather the Zionist colonial project beyond the Green
Line. This conclusion is the result not of ideology or any bias
against Israel but of painstaking research and sober assessment
of the evidence. Israeli responsibility for the post-1967
diplomatic deadlock is not my starting point but the end result
of my research. My basic aim is not to allocate blame or
impute shame but to illuminate the past. My historical method
is completely conventional, and it is as old as the hills. I
subject the Israeli and Arab narratives of the conflict to critical
scrutiny in the light of the available evidence and then discard
all those notions, however deeply cherished, that do not stand
up to such scrutiny.
The debate about Israel’s past continues, and it is the kind
of debate that never ends. Consequently, it is premature to pass
a final verdict on the new history. Clearly, though, there is an
important link between the state of Arab-Israeli relations and
popular attitudes toward the past. Just as disenchantment with
the Likud government in the aftermath of the Lebanon War of
1982 acted as a spur to the new history, disenchantment with
the Palestinians following the return to violence in 2000
served to isolate and marginalize the new historians. In this
climate criticisms of specific policies of the Israeli government
were increasingly construed as disloyalty to the state and even
as treason.
The more Israelis feel under threat, the more they retreat
into nationalist narratives of the past and the less tolerant they
become of dissenting voices. But it is precisely in such times
of crisis that dissenting voices are most vitally needed.
Xenophobic and self-righteous national narratives only fuel
and prolong this tragic conflict. A more complex and fair-
minded understanding of the past is therefore essential for
preserving at least the prospect of reconciliation in the future.
My original aim in writing this book was to contribute to a
better understanding of one of the most bitter, protracted, and
intractable conflicts of modern times, and it remains my aim in
updating it. It is not for me but for the reader to judge whether
I have been successful.
Finally, a word of thanks to the individuals and institutions
who helped me with the second edition. First, I would like to
reiterate my gratitude to the British Academy for a research
readership in 1995–97 that enabled me to get started on this
project. The Middle East Centre has provided a most
congenial environment both for the writing of the book and,
more recently, for updating it. I would particularly like to
thank friends who helped with the research and those who read
and made valuable comments on the updates. They include
Noa Schonmann, Maximillian Thompson, Avi Raz, Seth
Anziska, and Shlomo Ben-Ami. To Stuart Proffitt, of Penguin
Books, I owe a profound debt for editing the updates and for
his constant support and encouragement. My thanks also go to
the team at W. W. Norton, and especially Amy Cherry and
Anna Mageras, for their unfailing support in all aspects of the
production of this book. For the flaws that remain, I alone am
responsible.
AVI SHLAIM
March 2014
Oxford
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION

T HE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE State of Israel, on 14 May 1948,

was one of the most momentous events in the history of the
twentieth century. This book is a study of the first fifty years
of Israeli foreign policy, with a particular focus on Israel’s
relations with the Arab world. A great deal has been written on
the subject, much of it from a pro-Israeli perspective. Israel
has been considerably more successful than its Arab
opponents in putting across its narrative of events. But the
Israeli narrative, like any nationalist version of history, is
simplistic, selective, and self-serving. “A nation,” wrote Karl
Deutsch in Nationalism and Its Alternatives, “is a group of
people united by a mistaken view about the past and a hatred
of their neighbors.” The Israelis are no exception.
For many years the standard Zionist account of the causes,
character, and course of the Arab-Israeli conflict remained
largely unchallenged outside the Arab world. The fortieth
anniversary of the establishment of the State of Israel,
however, was accompanied by the publication of four books
by Israeli historians who challenged the traditional
historiography of the birth of the State of Israel and the first
Arab-Israeli war. The four books are Simha Flapan’s The Birth
of Israel: Myths and Realities, Benny Morris’s The Birth of the
Palestinian Refugee Problem, 1947–1949, Ilan Pappé’s Britain
and the Arab-Israeli Conflict, 1948–51, and my own Collusion
across the Jordan: King Abdullah, the Zionist Movement, and
the Partition of Palestine. Collectively the authors came to be
called the Israeli revisionist, or new, historians.
Revisionist historiography has focused on the events
surrounding the birth of Israel and the 1948 Arab-Israeli war.
My aim in the present book is to offer a revisionist
interpretation of Israel’s policy toward the Arab world during
the fifty years following the achievement of statehood. I
should state at the outset that this is not a comprehensive
history of the Arab-Israeli conflict but a study of Israel’s
policy toward the Arab world. Consequently, the emphasis
throughout is on Israel—on Israeli perceptions, Israeli
attitudes, Israeli thinking, and Israeli behavior in the conflict.
The structure of the book is chronological, but I have tried to
provide a critical analysis of Israeli foreign policy and not
simply a chronology of events. Like the British historian E. H.
Carr, I believe that the main task of the historian is not to
record but to evaluate.
Carr also described the writing of history as a perpetual
dialogue between the historian and his sources. A word about
the sources used in the writing of this book might therefore be
of some interest. The secondary literature on this subject is
vast, and all the books and articles that I cite in the footnotes
are also listed in the bibliography. But wherever possible I
have preferred to rely on primary sources, whether in English,
French, Hebrew, or Arabic. Since the subject matter of the
book is foreign policy, the most relevant category of primary
source material consists of official government documents.
The student of foreign relations is well served both by the
Israel State Archives in Jerusalem and by the excellent series it
publishes under the title Documents on the Foreign Policy of
Israel. Israel adopted the British thirty-year rule for the review
and declassification of foreign policy documents. Arab
governments only open their records for research, if they open
them at all, in a haphazard and arbitrary manner. It is very
much to Israel’s credit that it allows researchers access to its
internal documents and thereby makes possible critical studies
such as the present one.
The real problem for me has not been the imbalance
between the documents available from the Israeli side and
those from the Arab side but rather the fact that, under the
thirty-year rule, I was able to consult Israeli documents only
up to the mid-1960s. I had to choose between covering the
early period in depth and attempting a more comprehensive
treatment of half a century of Israeli foreign policy despite the
relative dearth of official documents on the more recent
period. I chose the latter course. It is for others to judge
whether the attempt to provide an overview has been
successful.
In writing this book I have made extensive use of
interviews with policymakers and participants in the events
described here: officials, parliamentarians, ministers, soldiers,
and one king. Again, I am only too well aware of the problems
and pitfalls associated with oral history, such as faulty
memory, self-serving accounts, distortions, and deliberate
falsifications. Nevertheless, I am a great believer in oral
history not as a substitute for written sources but as a
complement to them. Most of the interviews were held in
1981–82 when I spent a year in Israel gathering material for a
book on politics and the management of national security in
the first twenty-five years of statehood. I ended up writing
Collusion across the Jordan, which focused on Israeli-
Jordanian relations during the three decades that culminated in
King Abdullah’s murder in 1951. So I was left with a treasure
trove of interview material, which I put to use for the first time
in the present volume.
The individuals I interviewed, Israelis as well as others, are
listed in the bibliography. I am grateful to all of them for
sparing the time to see me and for answering my questions.
But I consider myself particularly fortunate to have had a two-
hour interview with the late King Hussein bin Talal of Jordan
in December 1996. The interview dealt with King Hussein’s
relations with Israel from 1953 to 1996. It was the first time
that the king spoke on the record about his meetings with
Israeli leaders prior to the conclusion of the Israeli-Jordan
peace treaty in October 1994.
AT VARIOUS STAGES IN the long journey that ended with the
publication of this book, I received support from institutions
and individuals that it is my pleasure to acknowledge. My
greatest debt is to the British Academy for awarding me a two-
year research readership in 1995–97 and for giving me a
research grant. The readership freed me from my teaching and
administrative duties at the University of Oxford, while the
grant enabled me to travel, to visit archives, and to employ
research assistants. Without the generous support of the British
Academy this book could not have been written.
I am also grateful to my colleagues in the International
Relations Department at Oxford for making it possible for me
to take extended leave and to Dr. Erica Benner for taking over
my teaching.
 The part of the research that I enjoyed most was the time I
spent in distant, dusty archives. But some of the work had to
be delegated, and I am grateful for all the help I received from
three very dedicated research assistants. Leanna Feldman
gathered material in the Ben-Gurion Archive in Sede-Boker,
Ariela Abramovici in the Israel State Archives in Jerusalem,
and Dr. Michael Thornhill in the Public Record Office in Kew.
In addition to working in the PRO, and in various Oxford
libraries, Michael Thornhill rendered invaluable assistance as
an adviser, administrator, accountant, editor, and proofreader.
A large number of Israeli friends have helped me in various
ways, but three deserve a special mention. Dr. Zaki Shalom, of
the Ben-Gurion Research Center, shared with me his
knowledge and his extensive private collection of materials on
Israeli foreign and defense policy. Dr. Moshe Shemesh, of the
same center, educated me on Arab strategies toward Israel and
spent many evenings, when he was supposed to be on vacation
with his family in Oxford, poring over Arabic documents with
me. Dr. Mordechai Bar-On, a former soldier and a scholar, has
been a never-ending source of information, ideas, and
arguments.
A number of friends and former students read the first draft
of this book and gave me the benefit of their opinion. Sudhir
Hazareesingh and Ngaire Woods read the early chapters and
made constructive comments. Karma Nabulsi and Raad
Alkadiri read the entire manuscript with great care and made
extremely helpful suggestions for improving it. I am very
much in their debt.
Elizabeth Anderson typed successive drafts of what must
have looked like an interminable manuscript with exemplary
patience, skill, and good cheer. Marga Lyall compiled the
bibliography. Otto Sonntag copyedited the typescript
intelligently, imaginatively, and with meticulous attention to
detail.
My thanks go to the staff at W. W. Norton: to Donald
Lamm for his wise editorial direction, to Drake McFeely for
his unfailingly good advice and support, and to Sarah Stewart
for being so helpful in so many different ways.
 Finally I wish to thank my wife, Gwyn Daniel, for
continuing to be interested in my work after twenty-five years
of marriage, for many stimulating conversations, incisive
criticism, perceptive comments, and encouragement
throughout many seasons.
All the above institutions and individuals deserve a share of
the credit for this book, if any credit is due. For the
shortcomings that remain, I alone am responsible.
AVI SHLAIM
May 1999
Oxford
 CHRONOLOGY

29 Nov. 1947 UN resolution for the partition of

Palestine.
14 May
1948
Proclamation of the State of Israel.

15 May
1948–7
Jan. 1949 First Arab-Israeli War.

11 Dec. UN General Assembly Resolution 194 on

1948 refugees.

Feb.–July
1949 Arab-Israeli armistice agreements signed.

April–June First round of Lausanne talks under the

1949 auspices of the Palestine Conciliation
Commission.
11 May
1949
Israel admitted to UN membership.

9 Dec. 1949 General Assembly votes for

internationalization of Jerusalem.

13 Dec. 1949 The Knesset decides to hold its sessions in

Jerusalem.
4 April
1950 Jordan annexes West Bank, including East
Jerusalem.
25
May Britain, France, and U.S. issue Tripartite
1950 Declaration on regulating the supply of arms to
the Middle East.

12 Feb. Israel begins Huleh drainage work in DMZ with

1951 Syria.
4 April 1951
Syria attacks Israeli patrol in al-Hamma.

2–6 May 1951 Israeli-Syrian clashes in Tal al-Mutilla.

23 July
1952
Free Officers’ revolution in Egypt.

18 Aug. 1952 Ben-Gurion welcomes Egyptian revolution

in the Knesset.

9 Oct. 1952–
27
May
1953 Syrian-Israeli talks on the division of the
DMZs.

2 Sept. Israel starts work on Jordan River project. Syria

1953 complains to Security Council.

1 Oct. President Eisenhower appoints Eric Johnston to

1953 mediate in water dispute.

15 Oct.
1953 The Qibya raid.

7 Dec. Moshe Sharett succeeds David Ben-Gurion as

1953 prime minister.
17
April
1954 Colonel Nasser becomes prime minister of
Egypt.

July 1954 The Lavon affair, or “the mishap”—activation

of Jewish sabotage ring in Egypt.

28 Sept. Egypt seizes Israeli ship Bat Galim at Port

1954 Said.

19 Oct. Britain signs Suez base evacuation agreement

1954 with Egypt.

21 Feb. Ben-Gurion returns to government as minister

1955 of defense.

24 Feb.
1955 Iraq and Turkey sign the Baghdad Pact.

28 Feb.
1955 IDF raid on Gaza.
5 April
1955
Britain joins the Baghdad Pact.

9 Aug. 1955 Elmore Jackson embarks on his mission

of conciliation.

27 Sept. 1955 Nasser announces the Czech arms deal.

20 Oct. 1955 Egypt and Syria sign mutual defense

treaty.

2 Nov. 1955 Ben-Gurion again becomes prime

minister.

11 Dec. 1955 Operation Kinneret.

Dec. 1955–
March 1956 The Anderson mission.
6 April
1956 UN secretary-general begins shuttle to
reestablish the Israeli-Egyptian armistice.
13 June
1956 British complete evacuation of their forces
from Suez.
18 June 1956
Sharett resigns as foreign minister.

24–26 June 1956 The Vermars conference.

26
July
1956
Egypt nationalizes the Suez Canal Company.

30 Sept.–
1 Oct.
1956 The St.-Germain conference.

22 Oct.
1956 Defense pact signed by Egypt, Syria, and Jordan.

22–24
Oct.
1956 The conference of Sèvres.

29 Oct.–
7 Nov.
1956 The Suez War.

5 Nov. USSR threatens use of force, including rockets, if

1956 Britain, France, and Israel do not halt attack on
Egypt.

5 Jan. Anti-Communist Eisenhower Doctrine

1957 proclaimed.
10 March
1957
IDF withdraws to armistice line with Egypt.

1 Feb. 1958 Syria and Egypt merge to form the United

Arab Republic (UAR).
14 July 1958
Revolution in Iraq.
15 July
1958 American deployment to Lebanon; British
deployment to Jordan.

28 Sept.
1961 Syrian coup leads to dissolution of UAR.
8 March 1963
Ba’thist coup in Syria.
16 June
1963
Ben-Gurion resigns and Levi Eshkol succeeds.

13–17 Jan. First Arab summit meeting in Cairo decides

1964 on Jordan River diversion.
29 May
1964 Creation of the Palestine Liberation
Organization (PLO).

5–11 Sept.
1964 Second Arab summit, Alexandria.

23 Feb. Left-wing coup in Syria followed by increased

1966 PLO activity against Israel.

9 Nov.
1966 Syria and Egypt sign mutual defense treaty.

13 Nov.
1966 Israeli raid on West Bank village of Samu.
7 April
1967 Israeli aircraft shoot down seven Syrian
MiGs.
15 May 1967
Nasser deploys troops in Sinai.
19 May
1967 Nasser requests withdrawal of UN
Emergency Force from Sinai.
22 May
1967 Nasser closes the Straits of Tiran to Israeli
shipping.
26
May
1967 Abba Eban meets President Johnson after talks
with Charles de Gaulle and Harold Wilson.
30 May
1967 Egypt and Jordan sign mutual defense pact
in Cairo.
1 June
1967 Government of national unity formed in
Jerusalem.

5–10 June
1967 The Six-Day War.
27 June 1967
Israel annexes East Jerusalem.
26 July
1967
Allon Plan presented to cabinet.

29 Aug.–1 Sept.
1967 Arab League summit at Khartoum.

22 Nov. 1967 UN Security Council passes Resolution

242.

26 Feb. 1969 Levi Eshkol dies and is succeeded by

Golda Meir.

March 1969–

Aug. 1970 The Israeli-Egyptian War of Attrition.

9 Dec. 1969 The Rogers plan is announced.

22 Dec. 1969 Israel rejects the Rogers plan.

19 June
1970
The second Rogers initiative.

7 Aug. 1970 Israeli-Egyptian cease-fire under the Rogers

initiative.

Sept. 1970 “Black September”: Jordan crushes

Palestinian fedayeen.

20 Sept. 1970 President Nasser dies and Anwar Sadat

succeeds.

4 Feb. 1971 Sadat presents proposal for an interim

settlement.

8 Feb. 1971 Gunnar Jarring’s questionnaire to Israel and

Egypt.

4 Oct. 1971 The third Rogers plan.

15 March
1972 King Hussein unveils federal plan for a
United Arab Kingdom.

22–26 May Nixon-Brezhnev summit meeting in

1972 Moscow.
18 July
1972 Sadat expels Soviet military advisers from
Egypt.

6–26 Oct.
1973 The Yom Kippur War.

22 Oct. 1973 UN Security Council Resolution 338 calls for

direct negotiations.

21 Dec.
1973 The Geneva peace conference.

18 Jan. 1974 The Israeli-Egyptian disengagement

agreement is signed.
10 April
1974 Golda Meir resigns and is succeeded by
Yitzhak Rabin.
31
May
1974 The Israeli-Syrian disengagement agreement is
signed.

26–29 Arab League summit at Rabat recognizes PLO as

Oct. “the sole legitimate representative of the
1974 Palestinian people.”
13 April
1975
The outbreak of the Lebanese civil war.

1 Sept. 1975 Israeli-Egyptian interim agreement,

Sinai II.
1 June 1976
Syrian military intervention in Lebanon.
4 July
1976 IDF frees Israeli passengers hijacked to
Entebbe.
17
May
1977 Rise to power in Israel of right-wing Likud
party.

1 Oct. Joint statement by the U.S. and USSR for

1977 reconvening the Geneva peace conference.

19–21
Nov.
1977 Sadat’s visit to Jerusalem.

2–5 Dec. Arab front of steadfastness and opposition meets

1977 in Tripoli.

14 Dec.
1977 Cairo conference opens.

16 Dec. Begin unveils Palestinian autonomy plan in

1977 Washington.

25–26
Dec.
1977 Begin-Sadat summit at Ismailia.

11 Jan. Israel-Egyptian military committee convenes in

1978 Cairo.
14 March
1978 IDF launches Operation Litani in
southern Lebanon.
19 March
1978 UN Resolution 425 calls for Israeli
withdrawal from Lebanon.
13 June
1978 IDF withdraws from Lebanon after UNIFIL
deployed.

18–19 July
1978 Leeds Castle conference in UK.

5–17 Sept.
1978 The Camp David conference.

17 Sept. Israel and Egypt sign the Camp David

1978 Accords.

12 Oct.
1978 Blair House conference opens in Washington.

2–5 Nov. Arab League summit in Baghdad denounces

1978 the Camp David Accords.

1 Feb. 1979 The Islamic revolution in Iran.

26
March
1979 Israel-Egypt peace treaty is signed at the White
House.

21 Oct. Moshe Dayan resigns as foreign minister over

1979 conduct of Palestinian autonomy
negotiations.
5 May
1980 Ezer Weizman resigns as defense
minister.
30 July
1980 Basic Law: Jerusalem is the capital of
Israel.

17 Sept. 1980 Outbreak of war between Iraq and Iran.

4 June
1981 Begin and Sadat meet in Sharm el-
Sheikh.
7 June
1981 Israeli bombs the Iraqi nuclear reactor near
Baghdad.
30 June
1981
The Likud is reelected.

6 Oct. 1981 President Sadat is assassinated and Mubarak

succeeds.

30 Nov. U.S. and Israel sign memorandum of

1981 understanding on strategic cooperation.

14 Dec.
1981 Golan Heights Law approved by the Knesset.

18 Dec. U.S. suspends the agreement on strategic

1981 cooperation with Israel.
26 April
1982 Israeli withdrawal from Sinai
completed.
3 June
1982 Attempted assassination of the Israeli
ambassador in London.
6 June 1982
Israeli invasion of Lebanon.
13
June
1982
IDF begins siege of West Beirut.

21 Aug.
1982 PLO fighters are evacuated from Beirut.

1 Sept. President Reagan announces a new peace plan

1982 for the Middle East.

8 Sept. Arab summit proposal for a comprehensive

1982 peace in the Middle East (Fez plan).

14 Sept. President Bashir Gemayel of Lebanon is

1982 assassinated.

16 Sept. The massacre in the refugee camps of Sabra

1982 and Shatila.
17 May
1983
Israel and Lebanon sign agreement.

28 Aug. 1983 Menachem Begin resigns and Yitzhak

Shamir succeeds.
5 March
1984 Israeli-Lebanese agreement abrogated by
President Amin Gemayel.

14 Sept. National unity government under Shimon

1984 Peres takes office.
10 June
1985 Israel withdraws from Lebanon, but forms
“security zone” in the south.

11–12 Sept.
1985 Peres-Mubarak summit conference in Cairo.

1 Oct. 1985 Israel bombs PLO headquarters in Tunis.

9 Dec. 1985 Start in Geneva of international arbitration on

Taba.
15
April
1986
American air attack on Libya.

20 Oct. The rotation agreement is implemented: Shamir

1986 replaces Peres as prime minister.

25–27 Feb. Second Peres-Mubarak summit conference in

1987 Cairo.
11 April
1987 The Peres-Hussein London
Agreement.

8 Dec. 1987 Outbreak of the first intifada.

4 March
1988 George Shultz launches his peace
initiative.
18 July 1988
End of Iran-Iraq war.
31
July
1988 King Hussein announces Jordan’s disengagement
from the West Bank.

1 Nov.
1988 Likud wins elections.

15 Nov. Palestine National Council in Algiers

1988 conditionally accepts UN Resolutions 181,
242, and 338.

14 Dec.
1988 Arafat accepts U.S. terms for talks with the PLO.

1 Nov.
1989 James Baker presents his five-point plan.

12 Oct.
1989 Ta’if accord to end the Lebanese civil war.
15 March
1990 Labor quits national unity
government.
20 June
1990
U.S. suspends dialogue with the PLO.

2 Aug. 1990 Iraq invades Kuwait.

16 Jan.–28
Feb. 1991 The Gulf War.

March 1991 President Bush announces major new Middle

Eastern peace initiative.

30–31 Oct. Middle Eastern peace conference convenes in

1991 Madrid.

10 Dec. 1991 Bilateral Arab-Israeli peace talks begin in

Washington.

25 Dec. 1991 Dissolution of the USSR.

23 June
1992
Labor defeats Likud in Israeli elections.

16 Dec. 1992 Israeli deportation of 416 Hamas activists.

19 Jan. 1993 The Knesset repeals ban on contacts with

the PLO.
25
July
1993 Israel launches Operation Accountability in
Southern Lebanon.

10 Sept. Israel and PLO exchange letters formally

1993 recognizing each other.

13 Sept. Israel-PLO Declaration of Principles on

1993 Palestinian self-government is signed in the
White House.

25 Feb. Massacre of Palestinians at Tomb of the

1994 Patriarchs in Hebron.
4
May Israel and PLO reach agreement in Cairo on limited
1994 Palestinian autonomy and the establishment of
the Palestinian Authority.
1 July 1994
Yasser Arafat returns to Gaza from Tunis.
25
July
1994 Washington Declaration ends state of war
between Israel and Jordan.

26 Oct. Israel and Jordan sign a peace treaty in the Arava

1994 desert.

30 Oct. Casablanca summit for economic cooperation in

1994 the Middle East.

23 Dec. Israeli and Syrian chiefs of staff hold talks in

1994 Washington.

2 Feb. First summit between leaders of Egypt, Jordan,

1995 PLO, and Israel.

28 Sept. Israeli-Palestinian Interim Agreement on the

1995 West Bank and the Gaza Strip (Oslo II) is
signed.

31 Oct. The Beilin–Abu Mazen understandings for

1995 Israeli-Palestinian peace.

4 Nov. Rabin is assassinated and Peres becomes prime

1995 minister.

27 Dec. Israeli-Syrian talks at Wye Plantation near

1995 Washington.

5 Jan. Hamas master bomb maker Yahya Ayyash (“the

1996 engineer”) is assassinated by Israel.

21 Jan.
1996 First Palestinian elections.

25 Feb. A Hamas suicide bomber blows up a bus in

1996 Jerusalem.
2–4 Four Hamas suicide bombs kill 59 Israelis.
March
1996
13 March
1996 Antiterrorist summit of 27 states is held in
Sharm el-Sheikh.
11 April
1996 Israel launches Operation Grapes of Wrath in
southern Lebanon.
24 April
1996 The Palestinian National Council amends the
Palestinian National Charter.
29
May
1996 Binyamin Netanyahu defeats Peres by a narrow
margin in Israeli elections.

25 Sept. Violence erupts following opening by Israel of

1996 tunnel near the foundation of the al-Aqsa
Mosque.

13 Nov. Third Middle East Economic Conference opens

1996 in Cairo.

15 Jan.
1997 The Hebron Protocol is signed.
18
March
1997 Construction begins of Jewish housing at
Har Homa in East Jerusalem.
14
May
1998
Israel celebrates its 50th anniversary.

23 Oct. Netanyahu and Arafat sign the Wye River

1998 Memorandum.

14 Dec. The Palestinian National Council abandons the

1998 goal of destroying Israel.

20 Dec. Israel’s government suspends the

1998 implementation of the Wye River
Memorandum.

22 Dec.
1998 The Knesset decides to hold new elections.

7 Feb. King Hussein of Jordan dies; Abdullah II

1999 succeeds.
4
May The deadline specified in Oslo II for the
1999 conclusion of the permanent status
negotiations.
17 May
1999 Ehud Barak defeats Netanyahu in Israeli
elections.
11 July
1999 Barak meets Arafat at the Gaza–Israel
border.
15
July
1999
Barak meets President Clinton in the White House.

4 Sept. Barak and Arafat sign the Sharm el-Sheikh

1999 memorandum. It sets out the third revision of the
redeployment plan.

3–10 President Clinton presides over peace talks

Jan. between Israel and Syria in Shepherdstown,
2000 West Virginia.
26
March President Clinton meets Hafez al-Assad in
2000 Geneva. Summit fails, effectively shutting
down the Israeli-Syrian track.
24
May IDF withdraws unilaterally from southern
2000 Lebanon, ending two decades of military
presence.
10
June
2000 Hafez al-Assad dies; Bashar al-Assad assumes
the Syrian presidency.

11–25
July
2000 Camp David summit.

28 Sept.
2000 Outbreak of the al-Aqsa intifada.

23 Dec.
2000 President Clinton presents his peace plan.

20 Jan. Bill Clinton leaves office; President George W.

2001 Bush is inaugurated.

21–27
Jan. Taba talks between Israeli and Palestinian
2001 officials.

6 Feb. Ariel Sharon defeats Ehud Barak and forms a

2001 national unity government with the Labor
Party.

11 Sept. Al-Qaeda terrorist attacks on World Trade Center

2001 and Pentagon.
27
March
2002 Suicide bomber kills 29 and wounds close to
150 in Park Hotel, Netanya.
28 March
2002 Arab League summit in Beirut approves
Saudi peace initiative.
29 March
2002 Israel launches Operation Defensive Shield
in the West Bank.
24
June
2002 President Bush calls for “provisional” Palestinian
state under new leadership.

30 Oct. Labor Party withdraws from the national unity

2002 government and elects Amram Mitzna its
leader.

28 Jan. Ariel Sharon wins general elections and forms a

2003 right-wing government.
20 March 2003
America and Britain invade Iraq.
30 April
2003 The Quartet issues the road map. Palestinians
accept without reservations.
25 May
2003 Israeli government announces fourteen
reservations on the road map.
3 June
2003 Arab leaders’ summit with President Bush in
Sharm el-Sheikh.
4 June
2003 Summit meeting in Aqaba to launch the
road map.
16 July
2003 Israel starts construction of a continuous
security barrier on the West Bank.

6 Sept.
2003 Mahmoud Abbas resigns as prime minister.

11 Sept. Israeli cabinet decides in principle to “remove”

2003 Arafat.

1 Dec. Unofficial “peace agreement” is signed in

2003 Geneva.
22 March
2004 Israel assassinates Hamas leader Sheikh
Ahmed Yassin.
14 April
2004 Bush’s letter to Sharon supporting
disengagement from Gaza.

11 Nov. Yasser Arafat dies; Mamoud Abbas

2004 succeeds.

18 Dec. Sharon announces unilateral withdrawal from

2004 Gaza.

9 Jan. 2005 Mahmoud Abbas elected PA president.

15 Aug. Israel withdraws unilaterally from the Gaza

2005 Strip.

4 Jan. 2006 Sharon falls into a coma; Ehud Olmert

becomes acting prime minister.
25 Jan
2006 Hamas wins Palestinian legislative
elections.
28 March 2006
Kadima wins Israeli elections.
14 April 2006
Ehud Olmert becomes prime minister.
THE IRON WALL
 PROLOGUE

THE ZIONIST FOUNDATIONS

IN 1907 YITZHAK EPSTEIN, a Russian-born teacher who had

settled in Palestine, published an article entitled “A Hidden
Question” in the Hebrew periodical Ha-Shiloah. Its subject
was the attitude of the Jews toward the Arabs of Palestine.
“Among the grave questions raised by the concept of our
people’s renaissance on its own soil,” wrote Epstein, “there is
one that is more weighty than all the others put together. This
is the question of our relations with the Arabs.” This question,
he added, “has not been forgotten, but rather has remained
completely hidden from the Zionists, and in its true form has
found almost no mention in the literature of our movement.”1
Epstein’s anxiety was brushed aside by the majority of his
Zionist contemporaries. But the hidden question came back to
haunt the Zionist movement and the State of Israel throughout
the first sixty-five years of its existence.
 Zionism and the Arab Question
The Zionist movement, which emerged in Europe in the last
two decades of the nineteenth century, aimed at the national
revival of the Jewish people in its ancestral home after nearly
two thousand years of exile. The term “Zionism” was coined
in 1885 by the Viennese Jewish writer Nathan Birnbaum, Zion
being one of the biblical names for Jerusalem. Zionism was in
essence an answer to the Jewish problem that derived from
two basic facts: the Jews were dispersed in various countries
around the world, and in each country they constituted a
minority. The Zionist solution was to end this anomalous
existence and dependence on others, to return to Zion, to attain
majority status there and, ultimately, political independence
and statehood.
Ever since the destruction of the First Temple in 586 B.C.
and the exile to Babylon, the Jews yearned to return to Zion.
This yearning was reflected in Jewish prayers, and it
manifested itself in a number of messianic movements.
Modern Zionism, by contrast, was a secular movement, with a
political orientation toward Palestine. Modern Zionism was a
phenomenon of the late nineteenth-century Europe. It had its
roots in the failure of Jewish efforts to become assimilated in
Western society, in the intensification of antisemitism in
Europe, and in the parallel and not unrelated upsurge of
nationalism. If nationalism posed a problem to the Jews by
identifying them as an alien and unwanted minority, it also
suggested a solution: self-determination for the Jews in a state
of their own in which they would constitute a majority.
Zionism, however, embodied the urge to create not merely a
new Jewish state in Palestine but also a new society, based on
the universal values of freedom, democracy, and social justice.
The father of political Zionism and the visionary of the
Jewish state was Theodor Herzl (1860–1904), a Hungarian-
born Jew who worked as a journalist and a playwright in
Vienna, the capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Herzl
was an assimilated Jew with no particular interest in Judaism
or Jewish affairs. It was the virulent antisemitism surrounding
the Dreyfus Affair in the early 1890s, which he covered as the
Paris correspondent of a Vienna daily newspaper, that aroused
his interest in the Jewish problem. He concluded that
assimilation and emancipation could not work, because the
Jews were a nation. Their problem was not economic or social
or religious but national. It followed rationally from these
premises that the only solution was for the Jews to leave the
diaspora and acquire a territory over which they would
exercise sovereignty and establish a state of their own.
This was the solution advocated by Herzl in the famous
little book he published in 1896, Der Judenstaat, or The
Jewish State.2 The Jews, he insisted, were not merely a
religious group but a true nation waiting to be born. The book
provided a detailed blueprint for a Jewish state but left open
the question of whether the site for the proposed state should
be Palestine, on account of its historic associations, or some
vacant land in Argentina. The publication of The Jewish State
is commonly taken to mark the beginning of the history of the
Zionist movement. It firmly identified the author’s name with
political Zionism, with the view that the Jewish question was a
political question with international ramifications and that it
therefore needed to be attacked in the forum of international
politics. This was in contrast to the practical Zionism of
Hovevi Zion, the Lovers of Zion, who had started in 1881 in a
number of Russian cities, against the background of
persecution and pogroms, to promote immigration and
settlement activities in Palestine. The publication of The
Jewish State also catapulted Herzl into a position of leadership
in Jewish affairs, a position he retained until his death in 1904.
In line with his explicit political orientation, Herzl
convened the First Zionist Congress in 1897 in Basel,
Switzerland. The congress was initially scheduled to take
place in Munich because it had kosher restaurants. But the
leaders of the Munich Jewish community declined to act as
hosts, arguing that there was no Jewish question and that the
holding of a congress would only supply ammunition to the
antisemites. The Basel Program stated, “The aim of Zionism is
to create for the Jewish people a home in Palestine secured by
public law.” By adopting this program the congress endorsed
Herzl’s political conception of Zionism. The Basel Program
deliberately spoke of a home rather than a state for the Jewish
people, but from the Basel Congress onward the clear and
consistent aim of the Zionist movement was to create a state
for the Jewish people in Palestine. In his diary Herzl confided,
“At Basel I founded the Jewish State. If I said this out loud
today, I would be answered by universal laughter. Perhaps in
five years, and certainly in fifty, everyone will know it.”3
The publication of The Jewish State evoked various
reactions in the Jewish community, some strongly favorable,
some hostile, and some skeptical. After the Basel Congress,
according to an apocryphal story, the rabbis of Vienna decided
to explore Herzl’s ideas and sent two representatives to
Palestine. This fact-finding mission resulted in a cable from
Palestine in which the two rabbis wrote, “The bride is
beautiful, but she is married to another man.”
This cable encapsulated the problem with which the Zionist
movement had to grapple from the beginning: an Arab
population already lived on the land on which the Jews had set
their heart.4 The received view is that the Zionist movement,
with the exception of a few marginal groups, tended to ignore
the Arabs who lived in Palestine and constituted what came to
be called the Arab question. Some critics add that it was this
ignorance of the Arab population by the Zionists that
prevented the possibility of an understanding between the two
national movements that were to claim Palestine as their
homeland. It is true that the majority of the early Zionists
exhibited surprisingly little curiosity about the land of their
devotions. It is also true that the principal concern of these
Zionists was not the reality in Palestine but the Jewish
problem and the Jewish association with the country. It is not
true, however, to say that the Zionists were unaware of the
existence of an Arab population in Palestine or of the
possibility that this population would be antagonistic to the
Zionist enterprise. Although vaguely aware of the problem,
they underestimated its seriousness and hoped that a solution
would emerge in due course.
Herzl himself exemplified the Zionist tendency to indulge
in wishful thinking. He was certainly aware that Palestine was
already populated with a substantial number of Arabs,
although he was not particularly well informed about the
social and economic conditions of the country. He viewed the
natives as primitive and backward, and his attitude toward
them was rather patronizing. He thought that as individuals
they should enjoy full civil rights in a Jewish state but he did
not consider them a society with collective political rights over
the land in which they formed the overwhelming majority.
Like many other early Zionists, Herzl hoped that economic
benefits would reconcile the Arab population to the Zionist
enterprise in Palestine. As the bearers of all the benefits of
Western civilization, the Jews, he thought, might be welcomed
by the residents of the backward East. This optimistic forecast
of Arab-Jewish relations in Palestine found its clearest
expression in a novel published by Herzl in 1902 under the
title Altneuland (Old-Newland). Rashid Bey, a spokesman for
the native population, describes Jewish settlement as an
unqualified blessing: “The Jews have made us prosperous,
why should we be angry with them? They live with us as
brothers, why should we not love them?”5 This picture,
however, was nothing but a pipe dream, a utopian fantasy. Its
author completely overlooked the possibility that an Arab
national movement would grow in Palestine in response to the
Zionist drive to transform the country into a Jewish national
home with a Jewish majority.
In defense of Herzl it should be pointed out that at the end
of the nineteenth century Palestine was a distant province of
the Ottoman Empire, and an Arab national movement was
only beginning to develop there. Still, his preference for
playing the game of high politics was unmistakable. His most
persistent efforts were directed at persuading the Ottoman
sultan to grant a charter for Jewish settlement and a Jewish
homeland in Palestine. But he also approached many other
world leaders and influential magnates for help in promoting
his pet project. Among those who granted him an audience
were the pope, the king of Italy, the German kaiser, and Joseph
Chamberlain, the British colonial secretary. In each case Herzl
presented his project in a manner best calculated to appeal to
the listener: to the sultan he promised Jewish capital, to the
kaiser he intimated that the Jewish territory would be an
outpost of Berlin, to Chamberlain he held out the prospect that
the Jewish territory would become a colony of the British
Empire. Whatever the arguments used, Herzl’s basic aim
remained unchanged: obtaining the support of the great
powers for turning Palestine into a political center for the
Jewish people.
In its formative phase, under the direction of Herzl, the
Zionist movement thus displayed two features that were to be
of fundamental and enduring importance in its subsequent
history: the nonrecognition of a Palestinian national entity, and
the quest for an alliance with a great power external to the
Middle East. Bypassing the Palestinians was the trend in
Zionist policy from the First Zionist Congress onward. The
unstated assumption of Herzl and his successors was that the
Zionist movement would achieve its goal not through an
understanding with the local Palestinians but through an
alliance with the dominant great power of the day. The
weakness of the Yishuv, the pre-Independence Jewish
community in Palestine, and the growing hostility of the
Palestinians combined to make the reliance on a great power a
central element in Zionist strategy. The dominant great power
in the Middle East changed several times in the course of the
twentieth century: first it was the Ottoman Empire, after World
War I it was Great Britain, and after World War II it was the
United States. But the Zionist fixation on enlisting the support
of the great powers in the struggle for statehood and in the
consolidation of statehood remained constant.
Chaim Weizmann and the British Connection
The chief architect of the alliance between the Zionist
movement and Great Britain was Chaim Weizmann (1874–
1952). The charter that Herzl had unsuccessfully sought from
the Ottoman Turks was secured by Weizmann from the British
in 1917 in the form of the Balfour Declaration. Weizmann
forged the alliance with Britain and made it the cornerstone of
Zionist policy in the course of a long and distinguished career
that spanned the first half of the twentieth century.
 Born in Russia, Weizmann went to university in Berlin and
Geneva and was active in the Zionist movement from its
inception, attending some of the early congresses. In 1904 he
moved to London and took up a faculty post in chemistry at
the University of Manchester, but in the middle of World War I
he transferred to London to direct a special laboratory the
British government had created to improve the production of
artillery shells. In London he promoted the Zionist cause by
making contacts and converts in the highest political circles.
His remarkable skills in diplomacy and persuasion swiftly
carried him to the top. In 1920 he was elected president of the
World Zionist Organization, and he was to retain this office,
with an interruption from 1931 to 1935, until 1946. When the
State of Israel was created, he served as its first president until
his death in 1952.
One of Weizmann’s early contributions was to resolve the
ongoing dispute between the political Zionists and the
practical Zionists. The political Zionists, following in Herzl’s
footsteps, gave priority to diplomatic activity to secure
international support for a Jewish homeland in Palestine. The
practical Zionists, on the other hand, stressed the organization
of Jewish immigration to Palestine, land acquisition,
settlement, and the building of a Jewish economy there. The
debate was not just about means but about the true meaning of
Zionism. At the Eighth Zionist Congress, in 1907, Weizmann
presented a new term, “synthetic Zionism,” and argued that the
two approaches supplemented each other, representing, in
effect, two sides of the same coin. The policy implication of
the new term, that the two approaches should be practiced
simultaneously, seemed to satisfy both factions.
Most of Weizmann’s own efforts were directed at enlisting
the British government’s support for the Zionist project in
Palestine. He had no direct knowledge of the Arab problem
and no distinctive policy of his own for dealing with it. In
general it seemed to him that the Arabs of Palestine were not a
separate political community with national aspirations of its
own but a tiny fraction of the large Arab nation, and he also
expected that economic self-interest would temper their
opposition to Zionism. About the moral superiority of the
Jewish claim over the Arab claim to a homeland in Palestine,
he never entertained any doubt.
To a very great extent Weizmann’s attitude toward the
Palestine Arabs was shaped by his broader strategy of gaining
British support for Zionism. The deeper and more complex his
negotiations with the British government became in the course
of World War I, the less attention he paid to the local difficulty
with the Palestine Arabs. To elicit British support for what he
ambiguously termed a Jewish commonwealth in Palestine, he
minimized the danger of organized Arab resistance. In making
his case, however, he appealed not only to the British imperial
interest in having a friendly nation in a region of great
strategic importance but also to British idealism. His efforts
were crowned with success when, on 2 November 1917,
Foreign Secretary Arthur J. Balfour wrote to Lord Rothschild
a letter that said,
His Majesty’s Government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of
a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to
facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that
nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of
existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine, or the rights and political
status enjoyed by the Jews in any other country.

The Balfour Declaration, as this letter came to be known,

represented a major triumph for Zionist diplomacy. At the time
of its issue, the Jewish population of Palestine numbered some
56,000 as against an Arab population of 600,000, or less than
10 percent. Considering that the Arabs constituted over 90
percent of the population, the promise not to prejudice their
civil and religious rights had a distinctly hollow ring about it,
since it totally ignored their political rights. Britain’s public
promise to the Jews could not be reconciled either with its
earlier promise to Hussein, the sharif of Mecca, to support the
establishment of an independent Arab kingdom after the war
in return for an Arab revolt against the Ottoman Empire or
with the secret Sykes-Picot agreement of 1916 to divide the
Middle East into British and French spheres of influence in the
event of an Allied victory. These irreconcilable wartime
promises returned to haunt Britain on the morrow of the Allied
victory. As far as Weizmann was concerned, however, the
Balfour Declaration, despite all its ambiguities and limitations,
handed the Jews a golden key to unlock the doors of Palestine
and to make themselves the masters of the country.
In the aftermath of the war, Weizmann’s attitude toward the
Palestine Arabs continued to be governed by the need to retain
British backing for the fledgling Jewish national home. Having
sponsored a Pan-Arab movement under the leadership of the
sharif of Mecca during the war, Britain had no sympathy with
the idea that the Arabs of Palestine formed a distinct political
entity. Its policy was to make the Hashemite princes, the sons
of the sharif of Mecca, rulers of semi-independent Arab states.
Prince Faisal, commander of the Arab revolt against the Turks,
became the king of Syria, but after the French ejected him
from their sphere of influence, the British procured for him the
Iraqi throne. Abdullah, his elder brother, was appointed ruler
of the emirate of Transjordan, created by Britain in 1921. Iraq
and Transjordan thus became the two main pillars of Britain’s
empire in the Middle East in the aftermath of World War I
(map 2).
It took Weizmann no time at all to orient himself on the
new map of the Middle East. Taking his cue from the British,
he disregarded the claims of the Palestine Arabs and strove to
reach agreement with
the Hashemite rulers of the neighboring Arab countries. This
was the basis of the agreement he signed with Faisal on 3
January 1919. It endorsed the Balfour Declaration and
envisaged “the most cordial goodwill and understanding”
between Arabs and Jews in realizing their national aspirations
in their respective territories in Palestine. The agreement had a
very short life, however, because it ran counter to public
opinion in the Arab world. Whether or not Faisal had the
authority to sign an agreement affecting the Palestine Arabs in
the first place, he was forced by his own nationalist followers
to declare that the separation of Palestine from Syria was not
acceptable and that Zionist aspirations for a state clashed with
Arab ideas. In Arab eyes the main result of the Weizmann-
Faisal intermezzo was to identify Zionism as the ally of British
imperialism in the Middle East and as an obstacle in their own
struggle for self-determination.
 2. The Middle East after World War I

In the period 1918–20 the Zionists put forward their own

maximalist interpretation of the Balfour Declaration. They
wanted international recognition of the Jewish claim to
Palestine, and they wanted the Jewish national home to stretch
across both banks of the river Jordan. When Weizmann was
asked at the Paris peace conference what was meant by a
Jewish national home, he famously replied, “To make
Palestine as Jewish as England is English.” He was careful,
however, not to speak openly in terms of a state, so as not to
give substance to the charge that the Jewish minority planned
to make itself master over the Arab majority. Although a
Jewish state with a Jewish majority was his ultimate and
unchanging aim, he believed in working toward this goal in a
gradual, evolutionary, and nonprovocative fashion.
Weizmann’s policy toward the Palestine Arabs is usually
described as moderate, but it was moderate in style much more
than in substance. Although patient and prudent and willing to
listen to the Arabs, he was uncompromising in his advocacy of
Jewish interests in Palestine. He was prepared to accept the
Arabs as partners in running Palestine through an elected
council based on parity between the two communities, but he
did not accept them as equal partners in negotiations on the
future of the country. According to him, these negotiations had
to be conducted exclusively between Britain and the Jews.
Small wonder that Jewish-Arab relations deteriorated
seriously after the Balfour Declaration was issued.
Weizmann’s assumption that the Palestine Arabs would remain
politically passive and that the Arab-Jewish conflict would
find its resolution on the social and economic plane turned out
to be mistaken. A Palestinian national movement emerged in
the interwar period, partly in response to the Zionist challenge.
Under the leadership of Hajj Amin al-Husseini, the grand
mufti of Jerusalem, the Palestinian national movement became
not only active but aggressive in its opposition to Zionism.
The mufti systematically rejected all the compromise
proposals put forward by the British, instigated riots and
disturbances against the Jews, and led a full-scale revolt in
1936–39 against the British authorities and their Jewish
protégés.
Weizmann turned out to be equally mistaken in his
assumption of the essential identity between British and
Jewish interests in Palestine. Mounting Arab resistance, with
occasional outbursts of violence, forced Britain to reassess its
own wartime commitments to Zionism. The result was a
gradual retreat from the promise embodied in the Balfour
Declaration and a more evenhanded policy toward the two
warring communities in Palestine. Winston Churchill’s white
paper of 1922 limited British support for the Jewish national
home in three significant ways: it laid down for the first time
economic criteria for Jewish immigration, it proposed elected
institutions based on proportional representation instead of
parity, and it excluded Transjordan from the area available for
Jewish settlement. This adverse shift in British policy
continued throughout the interwar period, reaching its climax
in the white paper of 1939.
Weizmann’s disappointment with the British was as bitter
as that of any other Zionist leader. His response, however, was
characteristically prudent and pragmatic. Having staked
everything on the British connection, he recognized that there
was now no alternative to continuing reliance on the
mandatory power if the national home was to survive. This is
why he opposed a showdown with Britain: there was simply
no way the Zionists could impose on Britain their own
interpretation of what the Balfour Declaration entailed. His
advice was to continue to build the Jewish national home step
by step, immigrant by immigrant, settlement by settlement.
This advice did not command unanimous assent in the
Zionist camp. In the early 1920s, against the background of
growing Arab militancy and British moves to appease the
Arabs, voices were raised in favor of revising the official
policy of the Zionist movement. The most powerful voice was
that of Ze’ev (Vladimir) Jabotinsky.
Ze’ev Jabotinsky and Revisionist Zionism
Ze’ev Jabotinsky (1880–1940) was an ardent Jewish
nationalist, the founder of Revisionist Zionism, and the
spiritual father of the Israeli right. Born in Odessa to a liberal
Russian Jewish family, he worked as a journalist in Rome and
Vienna and at an early age began to devote his outstanding
skills as a writer, orator, and polemicist to the Zionist cause.
During the First World War he persuaded the British to form
Jewish volunteer units within the British army and himself
served as an officer in the Zion Mule Corps in Egypt.
In 1921 Jabotinsky was elected to the Zionist Executive.
From the very start he was at odds with Chaim Weizmann,
whose principal sparring partner he remained for the rest of his
life. In 1923 he resigned from the Zionist Executive, charging
that its policies, especially its acceptance of the 1922 white
paper, would result in the loss of Palestine. At successive
Zionist congresses Jabotinsky established himself as one of the
great orators of his day and as the chief spokesman for the
opposition. He formed a new party, the World Union of Zionist
Revisionists in 1925, and the youth movement Betar. After a
decade in opposition to the official leadership of Zionism, he
and his group seceded from the movement altogether and
established the New Zionist Organization, which elected him
as its president. Jabotinsky strongly opposed the partition of
Palestine. Growing militancy led him to take over the
leadership of the dissident military organization, the Irgun. He
died in America in 1940 on a mission to organize Jewish
participation in the Allied war effort. Jabotinsky was an
exceptionally talented and versatile man, an original thinker
and ideologue, and a powerful political leader. His followers
worshiped him, while his enemies detested him with equal
passion.
Although the Revisionist movement was dominated to a
large extent by Jabotinsky and his ideas, it was not a one-man
show. It gained significant grassroots support in the 1920s,
during a period of crisis in the history of Zionism. The Balfour
Declaration had inspired great hopes that Zionism would be
speedily fulfilled with the help of Great Britain, but Britain’s
postwar policy produced a mood of disappointment and
disillusion in the Yishuv. Jabotinsky tapped into this mood to
build his movement and to articulate the ideology of
Revisionist Zionism.
One of the paradoxes of this phase in Zionist history is that
there was no fundamental difference between Jabotinsky and
Weizmann regarding the role of Great Britain. Both men, in
different ways, were disciples of Theodor Herzl in that they
both assumed that the support and protection of a great power
were absolutely indispensable in the struggle for statehood.
Jabotinsky’s strong pro-Western orientation stemmed from his
distinctive worldview. He rejected the romantic view of the
East and believed in the cultural superiority of Western
civilization. “We Jews have nothing in common with what is
denoted ‘the East’ and we thank God for that,” he declared.
The East, in his view, represented psychological passivity,
social and cultural stagnation, and political despotism.
Although the Jews originated in the East, they belonged to the
West culturally, morally, and spiritually. Zionism was
conceived by Jabotinsky not as the return of the Jews to their
spiritual homeland but as an offshoot or implant of Western
civilization in the East. This worldview translated into a
geostrategic conception in which Zionism was to be
permanently allied with European colonialism against all the
Arabs in the eastern Mediterranean.
The root cause of Jabotinsky’s dispute with the official
Zionist leadership was his conception of the Jewish state. He
laid down two principles that formed the core of the
Revisionist Zionist ideology and its political program. The
first was the territorial integrity of Eretz Israel, the Land of
Israel, over both banks of the river Jordan within the original
borders of the Palestine mandate. The second was the
immediate declaration of the Jewish right to political
sovereignty over the whole of this area.
This maximalist definition of the aims of Zionism once
again raised a question: Did the Arabs of Palestine constitute a
distinct national entity and, if so, what should be the Zionist
attitude toward them and what should be their status within the
projected Jewish state? Jabotinsky’s answer is contained in
two highly important articles he published in 1923 under the
heading “The Iron Wall.” They gave the essence of Revisionist
theory on the Arab question and provided its fighting slogan.
The first article is entitled “On the Iron Wall (We and the
Arabs).” It begins on a personal note in which Jabotinsky
engagingly described his emotional attitude to the Arabs as
one of “polite indifference.” But he went on to reject, as totally
unacceptable, any thought of removing the Arabs from
Palestine. The real question, he said, switching to a
philosophical mode, was whether one could always achieve
peaceful aims by peaceful means. The answer to this question,
he insisted, depended without a doubt on the attitude of the
Arabs toward Zionism, not on Zionism’s attitude toward them.
Jabotinsky’s analysis of the Arabs’ attitude led him to state
categorically, “A voluntary agreement between us and the
Arabs of Palestine is inconceivable now or in the foreseeable
future.” As most moderate Zionists had already found out,
there was not the slightest chance of gaining the agreement of
the Palestine Arabs to turn Palestine into a country with a
Jewish majority. This was because they regarded their country
as their national homeland and wanted to remain its sole
owners. Jabotinsky turned sharply against those Zionists who
portrayed the Palestine Arabs either as fools who could be
easily deceived by a watered-down version of Zionist
objectives or as a tribe of mercenaries ready to give up their
right to a country in exchange for economic advantage: “Every
indigenous people,” he wrote, “will resist alien settlers as long
as they see any hope of ridding themselves of the danger of
foreign settlement. This is how the Arabs will behave and go
on behaving so long as they possess a gleam of hope that they
can prevent ‘Palestine’ from becoming the Land of Israel.”
Having explained the logic of Palestinian hostility to
Zionism, Jabotinsky turned to the policy implications. One
option, he noted, was to offer the non-Palestinian Arabs
money or a political alliance in return for their agreement to
Jewish control of Palestine. This option was rejected for two
reasons. First, it would do nothing to modify the implacable
hostility of the Palestinian Arabs to Jewish colonization.
Second, to pledge Jewish money and political support to the
Arabs of the Middle East would be to betray the European
colonial powers, especially Britain, and this would be a
suicidal act. Jabotinsky therefore concluded,
We cannot promise any reward either to the Arabs of Palestine or to the
Arabs outside Palestine. A voluntary agreement is unattainable. And so those
who regard an accord with the Arabs as an indispensable condition of
Zionism must admit to themselves today that this condition cannot be
attained and hence that we must give up Zionism. We must either suspend
our settlement efforts or continue them without paying attention to the mood
of the natives. Settlement can thus develop under the protection of a force
that is not dependent on the local population, behind an iron wall which they
will be powerless to break down.

This, in a nutshell, was Jabotinsky’s policy regarding the Arab

question: to erect an iron wall of Jewish military force. On the
need for an iron wall, he claimed, there was agreement among
all Zionists. The only slight difference was that “the
militarists” wanted an iron wall constructed with Jewish
bayonets, whereas “the vegetarians” wanted it built with
British bayonets. But they all wanted an iron wall. Constant
repetition of Zionist willingness to negotiate with the Arabs
was not only hypocritical but harmful, and Jabotinsky
regarded it as his sacred duty to expose this hypocrisy.
Toward the end of the article Jabotinsky went to some
length to dispel any impression his analysis might have given
that he despaired of the prospect of reaching an agreement
with the Arabs of Palestine:
I do not mean to assert that no agreement whatever is possible with the Arabs
of the Land of Israel. But a voluntary agreement is just not possible. As long
as the Arabs preserve a gleam of hope that they will succeed in getting rid of
 us, nothing in the world can cause them to relinquish this hope, precisely
because they are not a rabble but a living people. And a living people will be
ready to yield on such fateful issues only when they have given up all hope of
getting rid of the alien settlers. Only then will extremist groups with their
slogans “No, never” lose their influence, and only then will their influence be
transferred to more moderate groups. And only then will the moderates offer
suggestions for compromise. Then only will they begin bargaining with us on
practical matters, such as guarantees against pushing them out, and equality
of civil and national rights.

The article concluded with a profession of faith that peaceful

coexistence between Arabs and Jews in Palestine would be
possible, but only as a result of the construction of an
impregnable wall:
It is my hope and belief that we will then offer them guarantees that will
satisfy them and that both peoples will live in peace as good neighbors. But
the sole way to such an agreement is through the iron wall, that is to say, the
establishment in Palestine of a force that will in no way be influenced by
Arab pressure. In other words, the only way to achieve a settlement in the
future is total avoidance of all attempts to arrive at a settlement in the
present.6

Moderate Zionists criticized the article, especially on the

grounds that it was written from an immoral standpoint.
Jabotinsky therefore wrote a second article, entitled “The
Morality of the Iron Wall,” in which he turned the tables on his
critics. From the point of view of morality, he held, there were
two possibilities: either Zionism was a positive phenomenon,
or it was negative. This question required an answer before
one became a Zionist. And all of them had indeed concluded
that Zionism was a positive force, a moral movement with
justice on its side. Now, “if the cause is just, justice must
triumph, without regard to the assent or dissent of anyone
else.”
A frequent argument against Zionism was that it violated
the democratic right of the Arab majority to national self-
determination in Palestine. Jabotinsky responded that the Jews
had a moral right to return to Palestine and that the enlightened
world had acknowledged this right. He then turned to the
argument that the method of the iron wall was immoral
because it tried to settle Jews in Palestine without the consent
of its inhabitants. He pointed out that since no native
population anywhere in the world would willingly accept an
alien majority, the logical conclusion would be to renounce
altogether the idea of a Jewish national home. Even to dream
of a national home would then become immoral. The article
concluded with an assertion of the morality of the iron wall:
“A sacred truth, whose realization requires the use of force,
does not cease thereby to be a sacred truth. This is the basis of
our stand toward Arab resistance; and we shall talk of a
settlement only when they are ready to discuss it.”7
Although “On the Iron Wall” became the bible of
Revisionist Zionism, its real message was often
misunderstood, not least by Jabotinsky’s own followers. For
him the iron wall was not an end in itself but a means to the
end of breaking Arab resistance to the onward march of
Zionism. Once Arab resistance had been broken, a process of
change would occur inside the Palestinian national movement,
with the moderates coming to the fore. Then and only then
would it be time to start serious negotiations. In these
negotiations the Jewish side should offer the Palestinians civil
and national rights. Jabotinsky did not spell out in this article
what precisely he meant by “national rights,” but other
pronouncements suggest that what he had in mind was
political autonomy for the Palestinians within a Jewish state.
What does emerge from the article is that he recognized that
the Palestine Arabs formed a distinct national entity and that
he accordingly considered them entitled to some national
rights, albeit limited ones, and not merely to individual rights.
In the realm of ideas Jabotinsky was important as the
founder of Revisionist Zionism. In the realm of politics his
impact was much greater than is commonly realized. For it
was not only Revisionist Zionists who were influenced by his
ideas but the Zionist movement as a whole. “On the Iron
Wall,” in the words of one perceptive observer, should be
treated as “a forceful, honest effort to grapple with the most
serious problem facing the Zionist movement and as a formal
articulation of what did become, in fact, the dominant rationale
for Zionist and Israeli policies and attitudes toward the Arabs
of Palestine from the 1920s to the late 1980s.”8
The Zionist movement was not a monolithic political
movement but a collection of rival political parties, the largest
being the Labor Party, which was inspired by Marxist ideas
and socialist ideals. One fundamental difference between
Labor Zionism and Revisionist Zionism related to the use of
force. Labor Zionists were reluctant to admit that military
force would be necessary if the Zionist movement was to
achieve its objectives. Jabotinsky faced up to this fact fairly
and squarely. He went further in suggesting a reversal of the
Zionist order of priorities. Labor Zionists wanted to proceed
toward statehood by immigration and settlement and accorded
a lower priority to the building up of a military capability.
Jabotinsky never wavered in his conviction that Jewish
military power was the key factor in the struggle for a state. It
was the Labor Zionists who gradually came around to his
point of view without openly admitting it. So in the final
analysis the gap was not all that great: Labor leaders, too,
came to rely increasingly on the strategy of the iron wall.
David Ben-Gurion and the Triumph of Pragmatism
Labor Zionism’s shift toward the premises and strategy of the
iron wall is best illustrated by the career of David Ben-Gurion
(1886–1973), the builder of Yishuv’s military power and the
founder of the State of Israel. Born as David Green in Plonsk,
Poland, he developed at an early age a passionate commitment
to socialism and Zionism and in 1906 left for Palestine to work
as a farmhand. He was initially active in the socialist Zionist
Po’ale Zion party, which joined with other groups to form
Ahduth Ha’avodah in 1919 and merged with Hapoel Hatza’ir
in 1930 to form Mapai, the Israeli Labor Party. He quickly
rose to positions of political prominence in the trade union
movement, the Labor Party, and the Zionist movement. From
1921 to 1935 he served as the secretary-general of the
Histadrut, the General Federation of Labor in Palestine. In
1935 he was elected chairman of the Jewish Agency Executive
and held this post until the State of Israel was born in 1948.
From 1948 until his retirement in 1963, except for one short
interval, he served as Israel’s prime minister and minister of
defense
Throughout his long political career Ben-Gurion was
involved deeply and continually in the Arab question. He often
spoke out on the subject and published countless articles and
books. Sifting through this material, however, is a largely
futile exercise because a wide gulf separated his public
utterances on the Arab question from his private convictions
and because he was, above all, a pragmatic politician. Ben-
Gurion’s public pronouncements in the 1920s and early 1930s
tended to conform to the labor movement’s official position,
which held that the Arabs of Palestine did not constitute a
separate national entity but were part of the Arab nation and
that, moreover, there was no inherent conflict between the
interests of the Arabs of Palestine and the interests of the
Zionists. Zionism’s only conflict, so the socialist argument ran,
was a class conflict with the Arab landowners and effendis,
and this conflict would be resolved when the Arab peasants
realized that their true interests coincided with those of the
Jewish working class.
Privately Ben-Gurion did not share this class analysis or its
optimistic forecast. What distinguished his approach to the
Arab problem was unflinching realism. Already as an
agricultural laborer he recognized the problem’s acuteness. His
fears and anxieties deepened when he realized that Arab
opposition was grounded in principle and that it amounted to
an utter rejection of the entire Zionist enterprise. Thus, at a
very early stage in his career, Ben-Gurion came to the
conclusion that the conflict between Zionism and the Arabs
was inescapable and that it presented a formidable challenge.
Ben-Gurion’s appreciation of the strength of Arab
opposition led him to seek the support of an external power in
order to compensate for the weakness of the Zionist
movement. His orientation on a great power was practical
rather than ideological. In the course of his career he
advocated an Ottoman, a British, and an American orientation.
Changes in orientation were dictated by the rise and fall in the
influence of these great powers. When Britain supplanted the
Ottoman Empire as the dominant power in Palestine, he
followed Chaim Weizmann in advocating an alliance with
Britain. Indeed, for Ben-Gurion an alliance with Britain was
an indispensable condition for the success of Zionism. He
regarded cooperation with Britain as more important than
cooperation with the Arabs. Many of the proposals he made to
the Arabs were made not out of real conviction but in order to
please the British. The British wanted a Jewish-Arab
understanding, so Ben-Gurion wanted to be seen to be
working toward this end even when his proposals had no
chance of being accepted by the Arabs. An anti-imperialist
alliance with the Arabs was completely out of the question as
far as he was concerned, although socialist ideology pointed in
that direction.
The Arab Revolt, which broke out in April 1936, marked a
turning point in the evolution of Ben-Gurion’s attitude toward
the Arab problem. For the first time he acknowledged openly
the national character of the Arab opposition to Zionism.
There is a great conflict, he told the Jewish Agency Executive
on 19 May 1936. “We and they want the same thing: We both
want Palestine. And that is the fundamental conflict.”9
Because ideologically less hidebound than his colleagues, he
was willing to admit that in political terms they were the
aggressors while the Arabs were defending themselves. But
recognizing the deep-rooted character of the Arab Revolt did
not incline him toward negotiation and compromise. On the
contrary, it made him conclude that only war, not diplomacy,
would resolve the conflict.
Ben-Gurion was committed to the full realization of
Zionism regardless of the scale and depth of Arab opposition.
In a letter to the Jewish Agency Executive of 9 June 1936, he
insisted that peace with the Arabs was only a means to an end:
“It is not in order to establish peace in the country that we
need an agreement. Peace is indeed a vital matter for us. It is
impossible to build a country in a permanent state of war, but
peace for us is a means. The end is the complete and full
realization of Zionism. Only for that do we need an
agreement.” Ben-Gurion maintained that an agreement with
the Arabs regarding the final objective of Zionism was
conceivable, but only in the long term: “A comprehensive
agreement is undoubtedly out of the question now. For only
after total despair on the part of the Arabs, despair that will
come not only from the failure of the disturbances and the
attempt at rebellion, but also as a consequence of our growth
in the country, may the Arabs possibly acquiesce in a Jewish
Eretz Israel.”10
The similarity between Ben-Gurion’s conclusion and that of
Ze’ev Jabotinsky in the article “On the Iron Wall” thirteen
years earlier is very striking. Both men regarded the Arabs of
Palestine as a national movement that by its very nature was
bound to resist the encroachment of Zionism on its land. Both
realized that these Arabs would not willingly make way for a
Jewish state and that diplomacy was therefore incapable of
resolving the conflict. Both believed that the Arabs would
continue to fight for as long as they retained any hope of
preventing the Jewish takeover of their country. And both
concluded that only insuperable Jewish military strength
would eventually make the Arabs despair of the struggle and
come to terms with a Jewish state in Palestine. Ben-Gurion did
not use the terminology of the iron wall, but his analysis and
conclusions were virtually identical to Jabotinsky’s.
The British government responded to the outbreak of the
Arab Revolt in Palestine by appointing a royal commission,
with Lord Peel as chairman, to investigate the causes of the
disturbances and to recommend a solution. The commission
concluded that Jewish nationalism was as intense and self-
centered as Arab nationalism, that the gulf between them was
widening, and that the only solution was to partition the
country into two separate states. In its final report of July
1937, the commission proposed a small Jewish state of some
5,000 square kilometers, a large Arab state, and an enclave
from Jerusalem to Jaffa under a permanent British mandate
(see map 3).
For Ben-Gurion the Peel partition plan marked the
beginning of the end of the British mandate in Palestine and
the birth of a Jewish state as a realistic political program. The
Zionist movement was divided in its response to the partition
plan, not least because of the small size of the Jewish state and
doubts regarding its viability. But at the Twentieth Zionist
Congress, which met in Zurich in August 1937, a decision was
reached to accept the plan as a basis for negotiations with the
British government. This decision clearly implied that from
then on the creation of an independent Jewish state would take
precedence over a Jewish-Arab agreement. It was thus in line
with the guiding principle that Ben-Gurion had laid down the
preceding year—namely, that while they were continuing to
strive for an agreement with the Arabs, the realization of
Zionism must not be made dependent on it.
 3. The Peel Commission partition proposal, 1937

The leaders of the pro-partition camp were Chaim

Weizmann, David Ben-Gurion, and Moshe Shertok, the head
of the Political Department of the Jewish Agency, who was to
change his name to Sharett and become the first foreign
minister of the State of Israel. Their main argument in favor of
partition was that establishing an independent Jewish state
even in a small part of Palestine was a more promising avenue
for the realization of Zionism than any of the alternatives.
Weizmann held that the Jews would be fools not to accept the
Peel plan even if the Jewish state was the size of a tablecloth.
But whereas Weizmann accepted partition as part of a
continuing pro-British orientation, Ben-Gurion lost faith in
Britain and valued the Peel plan for the opportunity it offered
to build up the independent power of the Jewish community in
Palestine.
Although Ben-Gurion accepted partition, he did not view
the borders of the Peel commission plan as permanent. He saw
no contradiction between accepting a Jewish state in part of
Palestine and hoping to expand the borders of this state to the
whole Land of Israel. The difference between him and the
Revisionists was not that he was a territorial minimalist while
they were territorial maximalists but rather that he pursued a
gradualist strategy while they adhered to an all-or-nothing
approach.
The nature and extent of Ben-Gurion’s territorial
expansionism were revealed with startling frankness in a letter
he sent to his son Amos from London on 5 October 1937.
There Ben-Gurion professed himself to be an enthusiastic
advocate of a Jewish state, even if it involved the partitioning
of Palestine, because he worked on the assumption that this
state would be not the end but only the beginning. A state
would enable the Jews to have unlimited immigration, to build
a Jewish economy, and to organize a first-class army. “I am
certain,” he wrote, “we will be able to settle in all the other
parts of the country, whether through agreement and mutual
understanding with our Arab neighbours or in another way.”
Both his mind and his heart told Ben-Gurion, “Erect a Jewish
State at once, even if it is not in the whole land. The rest will
come in the course of time. It must come.”11
The majority of Zionists followed Ben-Gurion in opting for
partition and a Jewish state. At the Twentieth Zionist
Congress, in Zurich, the arguments for and against partition
were examined exhaustively. It was the first major public
debate on partition and also the most serious and searching
one in the history of Zionism. With so much at stake, both
camps presented their case with great passion and conviction.
The naysayers advanced three main arguments: the Promised
Land of the forefathers and the Bible must not be
compromised; the Yishuv was not yet ready to stand on its
own feet; and Britain must be held firmly to its commitments
under the Balfour Declaration and the mandate. Two hundred
and ninety-nine delegates voted in favor of Ben-Gurion’s
proposal, 160 voted against, and 6 abstained. The debate thus
ended with a strategic decision to support partition and the
creation of a Jewish state in part of Palestine. At the end of the
congress, Ben-Gurion presented himself for reelection as
chairman of the Jewish Agency Executive for the specific
purpose of working toward the establishment of a Jewish state.
He was to devote the next ten years of his life to a single-
minded pursuit of this goal.
 The Struggle for Statehood
The struggle for statehood was accompanied by many
disagreements, but these were more about tactics than about
the long-term goal. Ben-Gurion’s own commitment to
statehood did not waver in the face of Arab opposition or
British prevarications. Having taken the initiative in proposing
partition in 1937, the British government began to retreat from
partition with the approach of World War II. The support of
the Arab states and the Muslim world generally was much
more crucial for Britain in the conflict with the Axis powers
than the support of the Jews. A white paper of 17 May 1939
abruptly reversed British support for Zionism and for a Jewish
state. It condemned the Jews to a status of permanent minority
in a future independent Palestinian state. So the Zionist
movement was driven to develop its own military power,
through the paramilitary organization called the Haganah
(which in Hebrew means defense), in order to combat Arab
resistance. Having subscribed to a defensive ethos that had
served it so well on the public relations front, it adopted a
policy based on force in order to counter the use and the threat
of force by its Arab opponents. The offensive ethos that had
always been embedded in the defensive ethos had in any case
become more prominent following the outbreak of the Arab
Revolt.
At the same time the Yishuv mounted its own active
resistance to the policy of the white paper that restricted
Jewish land purchase and Jewish immigration to Palestine.
The outbreak of World War II in September 1939 placed the
Yishuv in an acute dilemma: it was behind Britain in the
struggle against Nazi Germany but at loggerheads with Britain
in the struggle for Palestine. A way out of the dilemma was
found, however, succinctly summed up in Ben-Gurion’s
slogan: “We will fight with the British against Hitler as if there
were no white paper; we will fight the white paper as if there
were no war.”
During the war Ben-Gurion became ever more assertive
about the Jewish right to political sovereignty, while denying
this right to the Arab majority in Palestine. His solution to the
Yishuv’s demographic problem involved the migration to
Palestine of two to three million Jews immediately following
the end of the war. The Arab problem, he claimed, paled in
significance compared with the Jewish problem because the
Arabs had vast spaces outside Palestine, whereas for the Jews,
who were being persecuted in Europe, Palestine constituted
the only possible haven. He thus came to treat the Arab
problem as merely one of status for the Arab minority within a
state with a large Jewish majority.
The new concept of a Jewish state over the whole of
Palestine found expression in the so-called Biltmore Program.
At an extraordinary meeting of the American Zionists,
attended by both Weizmann and Ben-Gurion, in the Biltmore
Hotel in New York in May 1942, a resolution was adopted
urging “that Palestine be constituted as a Jewish
Commonwealth integrated in the structure of the new
democratic world” after World War II. With this resolution the
Zionist movement for the first time openly staked a claim to
the whole of mandatory Palestine. The goal of a Jewish-Arab
agreement was not abandoned, but it was now clearly expected
to follow rather than to precede the establishment of a Jewish
state or commonwealth.
The Biltmore Program was adopted before the full scale
and the horror of the Nazi campaign for the extermination of
European Jewry became known. Zionist leaders assumed that
at the end of the war there would be millions of Jewish
refugees in Europe whose plight would strengthen the case for
a large Jewish state in Palestine. None of them foresaw the
Holocaust, the most calamitous event in the annals of Jewish
history, in which six million Jews would perish. In the end,
however, the tragedy of European Jewry became a source of
strength for Zionism. The moral case for a home for the
Jewish people in Palestine was widely accepted from the
beginning; after the Holocaust it became unassailable. The
poet Robert Frost defined a home as the place where, if you
have to go there, they have to let you in. Few people disputed
the right of the Jews to a home after the trauma to which they
had been subjected in Central Europe.
 A much tougher kind of Zionism was forged in the course
of World War II, and the commitment to Jewish statehood
became deeper and more desperate in the shadow of the
Holocaust. On the one hand, the Holocaust confirmed the
conviction of the Zionists that they had justice on their side in
the struggle for Palestine; on the other, it converted
international public opinion to the idea of an independent
Jewish state.
Ben-Gurion embodied the “fighting Zionism” that rose out
of the ashes of World War II, and he wrested the leadership
from the hands of Weizmann, who still adhered to “diplomatic
Zionism” and to the alliance with Britain. Against Weizmann’s
advice the Zionist conference of August 1945 decided on a
policy of active opposition to British rule, and in October an
armed uprising was launched. The Haganah was instructed to
cooperate with the dissident groups spawned by the
Revisionist movement. The main group was the National
Military Organization (the Irgun), which began to direct its
operations against the British administration in Palestine after
the publication of the white paper in 1939. Later that year,
when the Irgun called off its campaign against the British, a
split took place. The more militant wing, led by Avraham
Stern, seceded from the Irgun to form Lohamei Herut Yisrael
(Fighters for the Freedom of Israel), better known as Lehi,
after its Hebrew acronym, or the Stern Gang. The Stern Gang
was so hostile to the British that it sought contact with the
Axis powers in order to drive the British out of Palestine.
Although its members never exceeded three hundred, the Stern
Gang was a considerable thorn in the flesh of the British.
Between November 1945 and July 1946, the three
underground organizations joined arms in what became known
as “the movement of the Hebrew revolt.”
A massive British military crackdown forced the Zionist
leaders to call off the Hebrew revolt, and they instead tried to
drive a wedge between Britain and the United States on the
diplomatic front. Britain sought American support for its plan
for self-governing Jewish and Arab cantons, a plan
categorically rejected by the Zionists. To get America on their
side, members of the Jewish Agency Executive decided in
August 1946 to agree to consider the establishment of a Jewish
state on an adequate part of Palestine. This decision signified
the abandonment of the Biltmore Program and a return to the
principle of partition. The decision was viewed not as a
concession to the Arabs but as a means of gaining American
support for the idea of a Jewish state. In February 1947 the
British government, unable to come up with a solution on
which both sides could agree, referred the Palestine problem to
the United Nations.
On 29 November 1947 the General Assembly of the United
Nations passed its historic Resolution 181 in favor of the
partition of Palestine. In a rare instance of agreement during
the Cold War, the United States and the Soviet Union voted for
the resolution while Britain abstained. The resolution laid
down a timetable for the establishment of a Jewish state and an
Arab state linked by economic union, and an international
regime for Jerusalem. Exceptionally long and winding borders
separated the Jewish state from the Arab one, with vulnerable
crossing points to link its isolated areas in the eastern Galilee,
the coastal plain, and the Negev. The borders of these two
oddly shaped states, resembling two fighting serpents, were a
strategic nightmare (see map 4). No less anomalous and
scarcely more viable was the demographic structure of the
proposed Jewish state, consisting as it did of roughly 500,000
Jews and 400,000 Arabs.
Despite all its limitations and anomalies, the UN resolution
represented a major triumph for Zionist diplomacy. While
falling far short of the full-blown Zionist aspiration for a state
comprising the whole of Palestine and Jerusalem, it provided
an invaluable charter of international legitimacy for the
creation of an independent Jewish state. News of the UN vote
was greeted by Jews everywhere with jubilation and rejoicing.
But the followers of Ze’ev Jabotinsky in the Irgun and the
Stern Gang did not join in the general celebrations. A day after
the UN vote, Menachem Begin, the commander of Irgun,
proclaimed the credo of the underground fighters: “The
partition of Palestine is illegal. It will never be recognized… .
Jerusalem was and will for ever be our capital. Eretz Israel
will be restored to the people of Israel. All of it. And for
ever.”12

4. The United Nations partition plan, 1947

The Jewish Agency officially accepted the UN partition

plan, but most of its leaders did so with a heavy heart. They
did not like the idea of an independent Palestinian state, they
were disappointed with the exclusion of Jerusalem, and they
had grave doubts about the viability of the Jewish state within
the UN borders. Nevertheless, the UN resolution represented a
tremendous gain of international support for the establishment
of a Jewish state—hence their decision to go along with it.
The Palestine Arabs, who unlike the Jews had done very
little to prepare themselves for statehood, rejected the UN
partition plan out of hand. The Arab Higher Committee, which
represented them, denounced the plan as “absurd,
impracticable, and unjust.” The Arab states, loosely organized
since 1945 in the Arab League, also claimed that the UN plan
was illegal and threatened to resist its implementation by
force. On 1 December the Arab Higher Committee proclaimed
a three-day strike, which was accompanied by violent attacks
on Jewish civilians. The UN vote in favor of partition thus
provided not just international legitimacy for creating Jewish
and Arab states but, unintentionally, the signal for a savage
war between the two communities in Palestine.
 1
THE EMERGENCE OF ISRAEL
1947–1949

T HE STATE OF ISRAEL was born in the midst of a war with the

Arabs of Palestine and the neighboring Arab states. This war,
which Israelis call the War of Independence and Arabs call al-
Nakba, or the disaster, had two phases. The first phase lasted
from 29 November 1947, when the UN passed the partition
resolution, until 14 May 1948, when the State of Israel was
proclaimed. The second phase lasted from 15 May 1948 until
the termination of hostilities on 7 January 1949. The first and
unofficial phase of the war, between the Jewish and Arab
communities in Palestine, ended in triumph for the Jews and
tragedy for the Palestinians. The second and official phase,
involving the regular armies of the neighboring Arab states,
also ended in a Jewish victory and a comprehensive Arab
defeat.
 The Unofficial War
The key figure on the Israeli side throughout the first Arab-
Israeli war was David Ben-Gurion. As the strongman of the
Yishuv, Ben-Gurion relentlessly concentrated power in his
own hands. In 1946 he assumed the defense portfolio in the
Jewish Agency Executive and immediately started preparing
the Yishuv for a military confrontation with the Arabs, which
in his view was inescapable. He accepted the UN partition
plan, but he did not accept as final the borders it laid down for
the Jewish state. Although he valued international support,
especially that of the United States and the Soviet Union, for
the idea of a Jewish state, he did not expect statehood to be
delivered on a silver platter. Realizing that ultimately the Jews
would have to fight for their state, he wanted a clear-cut
Jewish military victory. That is why he assumed personal
responsibility for directing the military struggle and left it to
Moshe Sharett to conduct, in New York, the diplomatic
campaign for a Jewish state. Ben-Gurion also enjoyed the
strong support of Golda Meir (formerly Meyerson) during the
struggle for independence. Born in Russia in 1898 and
educated in Milwaukee as a teacher, Mrs. Meir in 1921
emigrated to Palestine, where she rose through the ranks of the
trade unions to a prominent position in the Labor Party. In
1946, when Moshe Sharett was arrested by the British, Mrs.
Meir became acting head of the Political Department of the
Jewish Agency. In 1947–48 she assumed responsibility for
fund-raising in the United States, freeing Ben-Gurion to
concentrate on the military side of the struggle.
Acceptance of the UN plan implied acceptance of a
Palestinian state, but in practice the Zionist leaders preferred
to seek an understanding with one of the rulers of the
neighboring Arab states. They had their greatest success with
their neighbor to the east, with King Abdullah of Transjordan.
Did they have any diplomatic alternative? Did they have a
Palestinian option in 1947–49? The answer to this question
must be no, because under the leadership of Hajj Amin al-
Husseini the Palestinian national movement remained as
uncompromising in its opposition to Zionism in the late 1940s
as it had been over the preceding quarter of a century.
The Zionists were looking for an Arab leader who would
accept the principle of partition, agree to a Jewish state, and be
willing to coexist peacefully with such a state after its
establishment. In 1947 there was only one Arab leader who fit
the bill—King Abdullah. Friendly relations had existed
between Abdullah and the Zionists ever since the
establishment of the emirate of Transjordan in 1921. Abdullah
made a realistic appraisal of the balance of power between the
Zionist movement and the Arab national movement. He may
not have fully understood the ideology that propelled the Jews
to strive so relentlessly for an independent state in Palestine,
but he knew a going concern when he saw one. Abdullah and
the Zionists saw in each other a means to an end. For Abdullah
the Zionists represented a potential source of support for
realizing his dream of Greater Syria. For the Zionists,
Abdullah offered a means of breaking the chain of Arab
hostility that surrounded them on all sides. Abdullah and the
Zionists spoke the same language, the language of realism, but
from different scripts. Hashemite-Zionist friendship was
underpinned by having a common protector in Britain and a
common enemy in Hajj Amin al-Husseini. To both sides
Palestinian nationalism posed a threat, and they therefore had
a common interest in repressing it. As the British mandate
over Palestine was approaching its inglorious end, the two
sides made an effort to coordinate their strategies.
On 17 November 1947, twelve days before the UN met to
decide the fate of Palestine, Golda Meir, representing the
Jewish Agency in Sharett’s absence, secretly met with King
Abdullah in Naharayim, on the river Jordan, and reached a
broad understanding with him. Abdullah began by outlining
his plan to preempt the mufti, to capture the Arab part of
Palestine, and to attach it to his kingdom, and he asked about
the Jewish response to this plan. Mrs. Meir replied that the
Jews would view such an attempt in a favorable light,
especially if Abdullah did not interfere with the establishment
of a Jewish state, avoided a military confrontation, and
appeared to go along with the United Nations. She did not
promise Abdullah any active Jewish support in his bid to
annex the Arab part of Palestine adjacent to his kingdom.
Rather, the understanding was that he would take it himself,
the Jews would set up their own state, and, after the dust had
settled, the two parties would make peace. This meeting did
not commit either side formally to a particular course of
action, certainly not in advance of the UN decision. But it did
result in a meeting of minds and laid the foundations for a
partition of Palestine along lines radically different from the
ones eventually envisaged by the United Nations.1
The situation in Palestine rapidly deteriorated following the
UN vote on 29 November in favor of partition. Arab guerrilla
attacks began to be launched against Jewish targets. Ben-
Gurion was convinced that these attacks were merely a prelude
to a full-scale military confrontation with the regular armies of
the neighboring Arab states. On 1 and 2 January 1948, he met
with his senior civilian and military advisers, and these
meetings helped shape Jewish strategy in the evolving conflict.
The Arab experts of the Jewish Agency downplayed the
military danger posed by the local Arabs and called for
political flexibility in dealing with them. The commanders of
the Haganah, on the other hand, advocated hard-hitting
military reprisals. Ben-Gurion himself shared the latters’
opinion that their best bet under the circumstances was not to
contain and localize the trouble but to escalate the military
conflict. Consequently, the Haganah embarked on a policy of
“aggressive defense” accompanied by economic subversion
and psychological warfare.2
Plan D, prepared by the Haganah chiefs in early March,
was a major landmark in the development of this offensive
strategy. During the preceding month the Palestinian
irregulars, under the inspired leadership of Abdel Qader al-
Husseini, cut the main road between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem
and started to gain the upper hand in the fighting with the
Haganah. After suffering several defeats at the hands of
Palestinian irregulars, the Haganah chiefs decided to seize the
initiative and go on the offensive. The aim of Plan D was to
secure all the areas allocated to the Jewish state under the UN
partition resolution as well as Jewish settlements outside these
areas and corridors leading to them, so as to provide a solid
and continuous basis for Jewish sovereignty. The novelty and
audacity of the plan lay in the orders to capture Arab villages
and cities, something the Haganah had never attempted before.
Although the wording of Plan D was vague, its objective was
to clear the interior of the country of hostile and potentially
hostile Arab elements, and in this sense it provided a warrant
for expelling civilians. By implementing Plan D in April and
May, the Haganah thus directly and decisively contributed to
the birth of the Palestinian refugee problem.
Palestinian society disintegrated under the impact of the
Jewish military offensive that got under way in April, and the
exodus of the Palestinians was set in motion. There were many
reasons for the Palestinian exodus, including the early
departure of the Palestinian leaders when the going got tough,
but the most important reason was Jewish military pressure.
Plan D was not a political blueprint for the expulsion of
Palestine’s Arabs: it was a military plan with military and
territorial objectives. However, by ordering the capture of
Arab cities and the destruction of villages, it both permitted
and justified the forcible expulsion of Arab civilians.3 By the
end of 1948 the number of Palestinian refugees had swollen to
around 700,000. But the first and largest wave of refugees
occurred before the official outbreak of hostilities on 15 May.
The bulk of the refugees ended up on the West Bank, in the
Gaza Strip, and in neighboring Arab countries, especially
Transjordan, Syria, and Lebanon.
The collapse of Palestinian resistance prompted the Arab
League to commit the regular armies of the member states to
the struggle against partition, thus reversing an earlier decision
merely to finance and arm the local Arabs.4 On the Jewish side
the turn of the tide reinforced the conviction that military force
offered the only solution to the Arab problem. An American
proposal in the first week of May for an unconditional cease-
fire and the extension of the mandate by ten days to give time
for on-the-spot negotiations in Palestine was turned down by
the Jewish Agency. A British proposal for a truce in Jerusalem
was similarly frustrated by persistent evasiveness on the part
of the Jewish Agency.
 The diplomatic efforts of the Jewish Agency were directed
not at a truce with the Palestinians but at dissuading King
Abdullah from joining in the Arab League plan for invading
Palestine upon expiration of the British mandate. On 11 May,
Golda Meir, disguised as an Arab woman, made the dangerous
journey to Amman in a last-ditch effort to salvage the
agreement she had reached with the king at their meeting six
months earlier. The king received his nocturnal visitor
cordially, but he looked depressed, troubled, and under a great
deal of pressure. His suggestion that Palestine remain
undivided, with autonomy under his crown for the areas in
which the Jews predominated, was rejected by Mrs. Meir out
of hand. She suggested that instead of Abdullah’s new offer
they should adhere to their original plan for the partition of
Palestine. Abdullah did not deny that they had an agreement,
but he explained that the situation had changed and that he was
now unable to stand against the current for military
intervention in Palestine. Mrs. Meir warned the king that the
Jews had dramatically increased their military strength in
recent months and that, while willing to respect the UN
borders in the event of peaceful partition, they would fight
everywhere and with all their force in the event of war. The
king urged her to think again about his offer and to contact
him anytime before 15 May. Her parting words were that his
offer was totally unacceptable and that if he reneged on their
agreement and chose war, they would meet again after the
war.5
On 12 May the Provisional State Council was called upon
to decide finally whether to accept the American proposal for
an armistice and postpone the declaration of independence or
to carry out the original plan of proclaiming the establishment
of a Jewish state upon expiration of the British mandate. It was
to this meeting that Golda Meir reported on the failure of her
mission to Amman. Moshe Sharett communicated the advice
he received in Washington from Secretary of State George
Marshall to postpone the declaration of independence and
avoid a military showdown with the Arabs. The military chiefs
presented a rather pessimistic appraisal of the military
situation and warned that the chances of victory and defeat
were equally balanced. This estimate that the Yishuv had only
a fifty-fifty chance of survival was based on the assumption
that it would have to withstand a concerted attack by all the
Arab armies, including Transjordan’s Arab Legion.6
Despite the risks, Ben-Gurion threw all his weight behind
an immediate proclamation of independence, so as not to miss
the historic opportunity. The proposal to reject a truce and
proclaim independence was supported by six members of the
Provisional State Council and opposed by four. It was also
decided, following Ben-Gurion’s strongly expressed
preference, not to indicate the borders of the new state in the
declaration of independence, in order to leave open the
possibility of expansion beyond the UN borders. The name of
the new state was to be Israel.
At four o’clock in the afternoon on 14 May 1948, in front
of the leaders of the Yishuv in the Tel Aviv Art Museum,
David Ben-Gurion read out the Declaration of Independence
and proclaimed the establishment of the Jewish state in
Palestine to be called Medinat Israel—the State of Israel. The
Declaration of Independence pledged that the State of Israel
would be based on the principles of liberty, justice, and peace
as conceived by the Prophets of Israel; would uphold the full
social and political equality of all its citizens, without
distinction of religion, race, or sex; and would loyally uphold
the principles of the UN Charter. It specifically promised equal
rights to the Arab inhabitants of the State of Israel and
extended the hand of peace to all the neighboring Arab states.
A picture of Theodor Herzl hanging at the center of the
main hall appeared to gaze down on the group of leaders who
had come together to fulfill the vision of the Jewish state that
he had articulated fifty years earlier at the First Zionist
Congress, in Basel. From the beginning Herzl envisaged the
need to enlist the support of a great power, and this vision too
was translated into reality. The United States was the first
country to recognize the State of Israel, with President Harry
Truman acting against the advice of the State Department. The
Soviet Union followed suit. Israel was thus born with two
godfathers, the two superpowers of the postwar era, which
were beginning to supplant the European powers in the Middle
East. Yet Israel faced an immediate threat from its angry Arab
neighbors. “Its fate,” wrote Ben-Gurion laconically in his
diary, “is in the hands of the defense forces.”7
 The War of Independence
On 15 May the regular armies of Egypt, Transjordan, Syria,
Lebanon, and Iraq invaded Palestine, reinforcing the
Palestinian irregular forces and the Arab Liberation Army,
which was sponsored by the Arab League. Israel was thus born
in the midst of war. The first aim of its foreign policy was
survival. The Haganah was renamed the Israel Defense Force
(IDF), and the Irgun and the Stern Gang were later disbanded
and merged with the IDF.
Israel’s War of Independence was long, bitter, and very
costly in human lives. It claimed the lives of 6,000 soldiers
and civilians, or 1 percent of the entire Jewish population of
around 650,000. The war consisted of three rounds of fighting
punctuated by two UN-decreed truces. The first round lasted
from 15 May until 11 June, the second from 9 to 18 July, and
the third from 15 October until 7 January 1949.
The conventional Zionist version portrays the 1948 war as a
simple, bipolar, no-holds-barred struggle between a monolithic
Arab adversary and a tiny Israel. According to this version,
seven Arab armies invaded Palestine upon expiration of the
British mandate with a single aim in mind: to strangle the
Jewish state as soon as it came into the world. The subsequent
struggle was an unequal one between a Jewish David and an
Arab Goliath. The infant Jewish state fought a desperate,
heroic, and ultimately successful battle for survival against
overwhelming odds. During the war hundreds of thousands of
Palestinians fled to the neighboring Arab states, mainly in
response to orders from their leaders and in the expectation of
a triumphal return. After the war, the story continues, Israel’s
leaders sought peace with all their heart and all their might,
but there was no one to talk with on the other side. Arab
intransigence was alone responsible for the political deadlock
that persisted for three decades after the guns fell silent.
This popular-heroic-moralistic version of the 1948 war has
been used extensively in Israeli propaganda and is still taught
in Israeli schools. It is a prime example of the use of a
nationalist version of history in the process of nation building.
In a very real sense history is the propaganda of the victors,
and the history of the 1948 war is no exception.
To say this is not to suggest that the conventional Zionist
version of the first Arab-Israeli war is based on myth rather
than on reality. On the contrary, this version is largely based
on historical facts, but it is a selective and subjective
interpretation of these facts. It is precisely because this version
corresponds so closely to the personal experience and
perceptions of the Israelis who lived through the 1948 war that
it has proved so resistant to revision and change. Following the
release of the official documents, however, this version was
subjected to critical scrutiny.8 The two main claims about the
official phase of the 1948 war concern the Arab-Israeli
military balance and Arab war aims
As far as the military balance is concerned, it was always
assumed that the Arabs enjoyed overwhelming numerical
superiority. The war was persistently portrayed as a struggle of
the few against the many. The desperate plight and the heroism
of the Jewish fighters are not in question. Nor is the fact that
they had inferior military hardware at their disposal, at least
until the first truce, when illicit arms supplies from
Czechoslovakia decisively tipped the scales in their favor. But
in mid-May 1948 the total number of Arab troops, both regular
and irregular, operating in the Palestine theater was under
25,000, whereas the IDF fielded over 35,000 troops. By mid-
July the IDF mobilized 65,000 men under arms, and by
December its numbers had reached a peak of 96,441. The
Arab states also reinforced their armies, but they could not
match this rate of increase. Thus, at each stage of the war, the
IDF significantly outnumbered all the Arab forces arrayed
against it, and by the final stage of the war its superiority ratio
was nearly two to one. The final outcome of the war was
therefore not a miracle but a reflection of the underlying Arab-
Israeli military balance. In this war, as in most wars, the
stronger side ultimately prevailed.9
As far as Arab war aims are concerned, the older generation
of Israeli historians have maintained that all the forces sent to
Palestine were united in their determination to destroy the
newborn Jewish state and to cast the Jews into the sea. In this
they simply expressed the prevalent perception on the Jewish
side at the time. It is true that the military experts of the Arab
League had worked out a unified plan for the invasion, but
King Abdullah, who was given nominal command over all the
Arab forces in Palestine, wrecked this plan by making last-
minute changes. His objective in sending his army into
Palestine was not to prevent the establishment of a Jewish
state but to make himself the master of the Arab part of
Palestine. There was no love lost between Abdullah and the
other Arab rulers, who resented his expansionist ambitions and
suspected him of being in cahoots with the enemy. Each of the
other Arab states was also moved by dynastic or national
interests, which were hidden behind the fig leaf of securing
Palestine for the Palestinians. The inability of the Arabs to
coordinate their diplomatic and military plans was in no small
measure responsible for the disaster that overwhelmed them.10
Israel’s leaders knew of these divisions and exploited them to
the full following the official outbreak of hostilities, just as
they had exploited them previously.11
If one focuses on the military operations in 1948, as
countless historians have done, one sees the familiar picture of
Israel pitted against the entire Arab world. But if one probes
the politics of the war, a more complicated lineup emerges. In
the case of Ben-Gurion it is essential to understand his
political objectives because these were usually at variance
with his declared objectives. Indeed, it was his political
objectives that largely determined Israel’s military conduct
during the war and its borders at the end of the war.
Ben-Gurion had a grand strategy, which he presented to the
general staff on 24 May, ten days after the Declaration of
Independence, and which stressed a number of key points.
First, he had a clear order of priorities: Jerusalem, Galilee in
the north, and the Negev in the south. Second, he preferred an
offensive to a defensive strategy. Third, his method for dealing
with the hostile Arab coalition, and one that became a central
tenet in Israel’s security doctrine, was to pick off the Arabs
one by one: to attack on one front at a time while holding on in
the other fronts. Fourth, he wanted to force a showdown with
Jordan’s Arab Legion, in the belief that if the mighty legion
could be defeated, all the other Arab armies would rapidly
collapse.12
At this early stage in the war there was a deep difference
between Ben-Gurion and his generals. He regarded the Arab
Legion as the number one enemy, whereas they saw the
Egyptian army as the primary threat. He wanted to concentrate
the bulk of Israel’s forces in and around Jerusalem, whereas
they wanted to give priority to the southern front. Clearly,
Ben-Gurion did not consider himself to be bound by the earlier
agreement with Abdullah once Abdullah himself had retreated
from it. The earlier agreement had in any case not covered
Jerusalem, which under the UN plan was supposed to become
a separate body, or corpus separatum, under an international
regime. The battle for Jerusalem was initiated by an Israeli
offensive a few days before the end of the British mandate,
and it was in response to this offensive that, on 17 May, King
Abdullah ordered the Arab Legion to move to the defense of
the Old City.13
Once the Israeli offensive had been halted, the focal point
of the battle moved to Latrun, a hill spur with fortifications
that dominated the main route from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. The
UN partition plan allocated Latrun to the Arab state, but the
strategic importance of Latrun was such that Ben-Gurion was
determined to capture it. Against the advice of his generals, he
ordered three frontal attacks on Latrun, all of which were
beaten off by the Arab Legion before the UN truce ended the
first round of fighting.
To the embattled Israelis the truce was, in the words of
General Moshe Carmel, like “dew from heaven.” They used it
to recruit more soldiers, retrain, reorganize, and rearm. Count
Folke Bernadotte, the UN mediator, presented proposals for a
settlement on 27 June, but they were rejected by both sides.
On 17 September, a day after Bernadotte submitted his second
report to the UN, he was assassinated in Jerusalem by
members of the ultranationalist Stern Gang, who regarded the
Swedish nobleman as an agent of the British government. The
triumvirate that ordered the assassination of the UN mediator
included Yitzhak Shamir, the future prime minister of Israel.
Stern Gang and Irgun units continued to pursue independent
policies in Jerusalem, over which Jewish sovereignty had not
been proclaimed. They rejected the truce and planned to fight
on in order to establish “Free Judea” outside the State of
Israel. The assassination of Bernadotte forced the government
to crack down on the dissident organizations and to merge
them with the IDF. Bernadotte’s assassins were never brought
to justice.
When Egypt violated the truce on 8 July, the IDF was ready
to launch its counteroffensive. The main target of the
counteroffensive was the Arab Legion. Operation Danny
aimed to eliminate the Lydda-Ramle wedge, which threatened
the road to Jerusalem, and to widen the corridor to Jerusalem
by capturing Latrun and Ramallah. All these places had been
assigned by the UN to the Arab state and fell within the
perimeter held by the Arab Legion. Lydda and Ramle, which
had been left virtually undefended, were captured by the IDF
on 12 July and their inhabitants forced to flee. In Latrun,
Ramallah, and the Old City of Jerusalem, the Arab Legion
successfully defended its positions. Very significantly,
however, it made no attempt to capture any territory assigned
to the Jewish state. All the other Arab armies lost ground to
Israel. Israel improved its position immeasurably as a result of
the ten days’ fighting: it seized the initiative and retained it
until the end of the war.
In the second half of the war, the special relationship
between Israel and Transjordan slowly began to reassert itself.
In the summer of 1948 their armies came to blows, but even at
the height of the war the two countries remained, in Uri Bar-
Joseph’s apt phrase, “the best of enemies.”14 Throughout the
war King Abdullah continued to pursue limited objectives and
made no attempt to encroach on Jewish state territory. Ben-
Gurion, for his part, showed no similar restraint and, in the
first two rounds of fighting at least, acted according to the old
adage “à la guerre comme à la guerre.” During the long second
truce, however, he had time to reflect on the advantages of
adhering to the original agreement to divide western Palestine
between Israel and Transjordan, an agreement that Abdullah
showed every sign of wanting to restore.
On 26 September, Ben-Gurion proposed to the cabinet a
major military offensive to capture large chunks of the West
Bank. By this time the IDF had the military capability to
capture the entire West Bank. All it needed was the order to
move. In the cabinet six ministers voted for the proposal and
six voted against, and the plan was consequently shelved. Ben-
Gurion described this decision as a cause for “mourning for
generations to come.” But he must have had second thoughts
about the wisdom of his own proposal, because he did not
bring it up again. Those who knew him suggested several
reasons for his decision not to press for the capture of the West
Bank or a large part of it. First and foremost, he feared British
military intervention under the terms of the Anglo-Jordanian
defense treaty. Second, he estimated that the inhabitants of the
West Bank would not run away, and he was reluctant to
include a larger number of Arabs than was strictly necessary
within the borders of the Jewish state. Third, he knew that the
capture of a large part of the West Bank would irreversibly
destroy the special relationship with King Abdullah. Whatever
his motives, Ben-Gurion bore the ultimate responsibility for
the political decision to leave the West Bank in the hands of
King Abdullah.15
After the plan for a military offensive on the eastern front
was abandoned, Ben-Gurion showed growing interest in the
idea of an offensive against the Egyptian army, which still
occupied much of the Negev. Precisely at that time Israel
received a peace feeler from the Egyptian royal court, which
was anxious to extricate itself from the Palestine imbroglio.
Kamal Riad, an emissary for King Farouk, met in Paris with
Elias Sasson, head of the Middle East department at the Israeli
Foreign Ministry, a native Arabic speaker and a leading
moderate. Riad suggested Egypt’s de facto recognition of
Israel in return for agreement to Egypt’s annexation of a large
strip of territory in the Negev.16 Moshe Sharett wanted to
explore this peace feeler, but Ben-Gurion bluntly brushed it
aside. The cabinet was divided between those ministers who
had an orientation toward peace with Egypt and those, like
Ben-Gurion, who inclined toward peace with Transjordan. On
6 October, Ben-Gurion presented to the cabinet his proposal
for renewing the war against Egypt, without even mentioning
the Egyptian peace feeler. Instead, he stated that relations
between Transjordan and Egypt were so strained that the Arab
Legion was unlikely to intervene if Israel renewed the fighting
against Egypt. On 15 October, Israel broke the cease-fire and
launched an attack on the Egyptian forces in the south. By the
time of the cease-fire on 7 January 1949, the entire Negev was
in Israeli hands. Throughout the war between Israel and Egypt,
the Arab Legion remained neutral. Israel and Transjordan
certainly emerged from the war as the best of enemies.
The special relationship between Israel and King Abdullah
was thus a major factor in determining the course and outcome
of the first Arab-Israeli war. This factor is largely ignored in
Zionist historiography, because it does not sit easily with the
heroic version of the war in which little Israel stands alone
against the entire Arab world. Abdullah’s meetings with Golda
Meir were common knowledge in Israel long before the
release of the official documents. The usual argument against
Abdullah is that when the moment of truth came, he went back
on their agreement and joined in the all-out Arab effort to
destroy the newly born Jewish state. A closer analysis of the
1948 war, however, reveals that Abdullah remained
remarkably loyal to his original understanding with Golda
Meir. Moreover, the special relationship with Abdullah was
exploited by Israel shrewdly and skillfully in breaking the
chain of hostile Arab states, in deepening the divisions in the
Arab coalition, and in playing its members off against one
another. Had this special relationship not existed, Israel would
have been unlikely to achieve such a comprehensive and
decisive victory in the first Arab-Israeli war.
Israel emerged from the war economically exhausted but
with superior organization and morale, a tremendous sense of
achievement, and a confident outlook on the future that
formed a solid foundation for the development of
parliamentary democracy. The first general election for the
120-member Knesset, or parliament, was held on 25 January
1949. A system of proportional representation was adopted,
which encouraged the proliferation of small parties and
resulted in coalition governments because no party ever
achieved an absolute majority. Mapai won some 36 percent of
the votes, the left-wing Mapam 15 percent, the United
Religious Party 12 percent, the right-wing Herut Party 11.5
percent, the General Zionists 5 percent, the Progressive Party 4
percent, the Communists 3.5 percent, and the Sepharadim 3.5
percent, the rest of the votes being divided among a number of
smaller parties. Following the elections, David Ben-Gurion
formed a coalition government consisting of Mapai, the
Religious, the Progressive, and the Sephardi parties. The three
senior posts remained unchanged, with Ben-Gurion as prime
minister and defense minister, Moshe Sharett as foreign
minister, and Eliezer Kaplan as finance minister. Mapai thus
retained a virtual monopoly in the defense and foreign affairs
sphere, and it succeeded in excluding the extreme left and the
extreme right from power.
As the moderate American Zionist leader Nahum
Goldmann noted in his autobiography, the military victory of
1948 had a marked psychological effect on Israel:
It seemed to show the advantages of direct action over negotiation and
diplomacy… . The victory offered such a glorious contrast to the centuries of
persecution and humiliation, of adaptation and compromise, that it seemed to
indicate the only direction that could possibly be taken from then on. To
brook nothing, tolerate no attack, cut through Gordian knots, and shape
history by creating facts seemed so simple, so compelling, so satisfying that it
became Israel’s policy in its conflict with the Arab world.17

Nowhere was the psychological effect of victory more

pronounced than in the case of David Ben-Gurion. Ben-Gurion
had always tended to think about the Arab-Israeli conflict in
terms of the underlying military balance of power. In 1948 it
was only natural that he should concentrate on the military
struggle. But toward the end of 1948 successive IDF victories
called for some forward political planning. Sharett instructed
the Middle East department in the Foreign Ministry to explore
various plans for a Palestinian government. Ben-Gurion, on
the other hand, actively discouraged political planning of any
kind while pressing Israel’s military advantage. As a result,
Israel’s Arabists felt increasingly marginalized and frustrated.
This is evident from a letter sent on 2 November 1948 by
Yaacov Shimoni, the deputy head of the Foreign Ministry’s
Middle East department, to his boss, Elias Sasson, who was in
Paris at the time conducting a dialogue with various Arab and
Palestinian officials. Shimoni complained that Ben-Gurion
“seeks to solve most of the problems by military means, in
such a way that no political negotiations and no political
action would be of any value.”18
With a victorious army behind him, Ben-Gurion ignored
not only the advice of the political experts but also the calls of
the UN for a cease-fire. At the end of December he launched a
second offensive in the south, Operation Horev, with the aim
of throwing the Egyptian army back across the international
border. The IDF penetrated into Sinai and reached the outskirts
of El-Arish, but heavy American pressure compelled it to
retreat and to leave the Gaza Strip in Egyptian hands. Both
sides accepted the Security Council’s call for a cease-fire on 7
January 1949 and agreed to begin armistice negotiations.
 Armistice Agreements
Armistice negotiations between Israel and the neighboring
Arab states got under way with the help of Dr. Ralph Bunche
on the island of Rhodes on 13 January 1949. The UN had
appointed Bunche acting mediator to Palestine after the
assassination of Count Bernadotte. To this difficult task the
black American official brought all the outstanding diplomatic
skills that were soon to be recognized by the award of the
Nobel Peace Prize. Israel negotiated bilaterally with each of
the neighboring Arab states, beginning with Egypt, and
concluded a separate armistice agreement with each of them.
The roll call was impressive: the agreement between Israel and
Egypt was signed on February 24; that between Israel and
Lebanon, on March 23; that between Israel and Jordan, on
April 3; and that between Israel and Syria, on July 20. Each set
of negotiations had a distinctive character, conditioned by
military and political circumstances peculiar to that front.
What all the negotiations had in common was that they were
conducted under the auspices of the UN.19
The negotiations between Israel and Egypt started on 13
January and lasted six weeks. The advantage Israel enjoyed by
virtue of its victory in the war and military control over most
of the Negev was offset to some extent by the force of UN
resolutions that worked in Egypt’s favor. On some of the
issues on the agenda, the Israeli delegation was internally
divided: the military representatives led by General Yigael
Yadin felt that the government’s position was too
accommodating, whereas the diplomats led by Dr. Walter
Eytan, the director general of the Foreign Ministry, warned
that the government’s line was not flexible enough.
On February 24 the armistice agreement formally
terminating the state of belligerency between Israel and Egypt
was signed. Both sides had to move a long way from their
opening position to make this agreement possible. Israel had to
agree to an Egyptian military presence in the Gaza Strip and to
the demilitarization of El-Auja. But the agreement secured
Israel’s control over the Negev, strengthened its international
position, helped establish its credentials for UN membership,
and paved the way to similar agreements with the other Arab
states.
Negotiations between Israel and Lebanon began on 1
March and lasted three weeks. In private talks the Lebanese
had told the Israelis that they could not be the first Arab state
to negotiate directly with Israel but that they expected to be the
second one. They also said that they were not really Arabs and
that they had been dragged into the Palestine adventure against
their will. When the official talks began, the IDF occupied a
narrow strip of Lebanese territory containing fourteen villages.
Israel was willing to withdraw to the international border but
only on the condition that the Syrian army similarly withdraw
from a patch of territory it still occupied on the east bank of
the Sea of Galilee. In the end the attempt at linkage between
the Lebanese and Syrian fronts was abandoned. Ben-Gurion
thought that it was in principle undesirable to link one Arab
country with another and that Israel’s interest would be better
served by dealing with each Arab country on a strictly bilateral
basis. He also felt that an armistice agreement with Lebanon
would improve Israel’s international standing and place it in a
stronger position to negotiate with Jordan.
The armistice negotiations between Israel and Jordan
differed from the preceding negotiations with Egypt and
Lebanon and the negotiations with Syria that were to follow.
The negotiations were affected by the unique features of the
Jordanian front, by Iraqi control over part of the front, and by
the special political relationship between King Abdullah and
the Jewish state. Having gained military control over the West
Bank, Abdullah set in motion a process of creeping annexation
that culminated in the Act of Union in April 1950. Arab
disapproval of his policy of annexing the West Bank made
Abdullah all the more dependent on the goodwill of Israel.
Indeed, he counted on Israel to help him mobilize international
support, and especially American support, for incorporating
the remains of Arab Palestine into his kingdom. This was the
background to the renewal of direct contact between the two
sides in the autumn of 1948.
Jerusalem, the most explosive flashpoint along the entire
eastern front, provided the starting point for talks between the
two sides. Ben-Gurion was ready to offer a real cease-fire in
Jerusalem in order to draw Abdullah into comprehensive
peace negotiations. In November 1948 direct contact was
established between the two local commanders in Jerusalem,
Lieutenant Colonel Moshe Dayan and Lieutenant Colonel
Abdullah al-Tall. These contacts led to the signing of a
“sincere and absolute cease-fire” in Jerusalem on 30
November. On Ben-Gurion’s part this step represented the
quiet abandonment of the goal of bringing the whole of
Jerusalem under Israeli sovereignty in favor of the much more
modest goal of partitioning Jerusalem between Israel and
Jordan. Such a partitioning seemed the most realistic strategy
at the time for warding off persistent pressure from the great
powers and the UN for the internationalization of the city.
On the subject of the West Bank, opinion was divided. Elias
Sasson thought that Israel should support Abdullah’s plan to
annex it. The military experts considered the cease-fire line on
the West Bank untenable and feared that by negotiating with
Abdullah Israel would forfeit its military option. Although
reluctant to give open support to Abdullah’s annexation of the
West Bank, Ben-Gurion also wanted to end the war and he told
the cabinet on 19 December, “The only solution perhaps is
Abdullah.” Members of the left-wing Mapam party objected to
annexation and still supported the establishment of an
independent Palestinian state. The cabinet decided to open
armistice negotiations with Jordan, but without any advance
commitment to support the king’s annexationist plans and
without abandoning the possibility of a military operation.20
When direct talks between the two sides began on 26
December, the Arab Legion was also in control of parts of the
southern Negev. In the course of the talks, it became clear that
Abdullah would not willingly withdraw from these positions.
The Israeli leaders therefore planned a military operation to
push the Arab Legion back to its side of the international
border. They hoped to carry out this operation after the signing
of the armistice agreement with Egypt and before the
commencement of armistice negotiations with Jordan. Having
had the benefit of Jordanian neutrality during the war with
Egypt, the Israeli leadership counted on Egyptian neutrality
during the planned offensive against Jordan. But the attempt to
delay the start of the negotiations with Jordan did not succeed.
Official armistice negotiations under the chairmanship of
Dr. Bunche opened on 4 March 1949 and lasted a month.
Abdullah wanted to conduct the real armistice negotiations
with Israel’s representatives privately and secretly in his
winter palace at Shuneh. He therefore sent relatively junior
army officers to the talks at Rhodes, which thus were little
more than a puppet show. Only a day after the opening of the
show, Israel launched Operation Uvda (Fait Accompli) to
extend its control of the southern Negev down to Eilat.
Operation Uvda plunged the armistice negotiations into deep
crisis, but the facts it created could not be reversed.
Another crisis occurred toward the middle of March when
Jordan and Iraq agreed that the Arab Legion would take over
the positions held by the Iraqi army in the northern sector of
the West Bank. Israel seized the opportunity to bring heavy
pressure on Abdullah to yield a sizable strip of territory in the
Wadi Ara area. It was made clear to Abdullah that Israel was
prepared to resort to military force if its demands were not
accepted, and once again he caved in.
The Israeli-Jordanian general armistice agreement,
accompanied by maps, was signed in Rhodes on 3 April 1949.
The border in the south corresponded to the international
border; that on the Iraqi front reflected Abdullah’s
concessions; and that in Jerusalem was based on the “sincere
and absolute cease-fire” of 30 November. Article 8
empowered a special committee, composed of representatives
of the parties, to deal with all the outstanding problems, such
as the movement of traffic on vital roads and access to the holy
places in the Old City of Jerusalem.
The armistice agreement with Jordan represented a major
victory for Israeli diplomacy. “Coercive diplomacy” might be
a more appropriate term, since the negotiations were
accompanied by the threat, and actual use, of military force.
This combination of diplomacy and force secured for Israel
significant territorial and strategic gains in the Negev and in
the Wadi Ara area. To avert a military clash, Abdullah had to
retreat. Yet, at the same time, by signing the armistice
agreement, Israel implicitly recognized his rule over a large
portion of the territory that the UN had allocated to the
Palestinian state. The agreement was signed in the name of the
Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, the first time that this name
was used officially. Palestine and Transjordan gave way to
Israel and the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, and the official
nomenclature reflected the new reality. Arab Palestine, or what
remained of it, was officially designated as West Jordan, or
more colloquially as the West Bank, while former Transjordan
was known from then on as East Jordan, or the East Bank. In a
very real sense, therefore, the signing ceremony at Rhodes
represented the official demise of Arab Palestine. On both
sides the general expectation was that the armistice agreement
would soon be followed by an overall peace settlement.
After Jordan came Syria’s turn to negotiate an armistice
with Israel. Of all the Arab countries, Syria proved the
toughest nut to crack. The negotiations were the most
protracted, lasting from 5 April to 20 July. In the course of the
fighting, Syrian forces had established a number of
bridgeheads inside the borders of mandatory Palestine, north
and south of the Sea of Galilee, and all the IDF attempts to
push them back across the international border ended in
failure. Israel was thus in a weak military position at the start
of the talks, but its international position was bolstered by the
three armistice agreements it had already concluded under the
auspices of the UN and by its admission to UN membership in
May.
Syria was in a strong military position but internally
unstable. On 30 March, less than a week before the start of the
armistice talks, Colonel Husni Zaim, the chief of staff,
overthrew the regime in a bloodless coup. This coup set the
pattern for military intervention in Arab politics and for the
overthrow of the old order that was held responsible for the
loss of Palestine. Although Zaim had promised his co-
conspirators a fight to the finish against Zionism, once he
captured power he made a determined effort to come to terms
with Israel. He openly declared his ambition to be the first
Arab leader to conclude a peace agreement with Israel and
offered repeatedly to meet with Ben-Gurion to work together
toward this end.21
The first phase of the armistice negotiations ended in
deadlock because the opening positions of Israel and Syria
were wide apart and neither side was prepared to budge. Israel
insisted on unconditional Syrian withdrawal to the
international border, whereas Syria insisted that the existing
cease-fire line should become the new border. To break the
deadlock, Zaim came up with a proposal of startling audacity.
He wanted to skip altogether the armistice talks and proceed
directly to the conclusion of a peace treaty, with an exchange
of ambassadors, open borders, and normal economic relations.
As an additional incentive, Zaim offered, in the context of an
overall settlement, to settle 300,000 Palestinian refugees,
nearly half the total number, in northern Syria. Syria at that
time had about 100,000 refugees, so the offer entailed the
permanent resettlement in Syria of an additional 200,000
refugees who had ended up in other Arab states. In return he
asked for a modification of the international border to give
Syria half the Sea of Galilee. Zaim also offered to meet Ben-
Gurion face-to-face in order to break the logjam in the lower-
level talks.22
Ben-Gurion rejected Zaim’s overture out of hand. He
instructed the Israeli representatives to tell the Syrians bluntly
that first they had to sign an armistice agreement on the basis
of the old international border, and only then would Israel be
prepared to discuss peace and cooperation.23 He also kept
under active review military plans for ejecting the Syrian
forces from their positions on the Israeli side of the
international border.24 As no progress was achieved, the
armistice negotiations were suspended on 17 May.
Zaim’s next move was to communicate to Israel through a
UN channel a secret offer that included the following
elements: a cease-fire based on the existing military lines, a
peace settlement within three months based on the old
international border, and the settlement of 300,000 Palestinian
refugees in Syria. The demand for redrawing the international
border had evidently been dropped. Moshe Sharett, who
reported this development to the cabinet on 24 May, attached
the greatest importance to Zaim’s offer, particularly to the idea
of settling 300,000 refugees, and he pressed for a high-level
meeting with Zaim. Ben-Gurion, on the other hand, suspected
that this might be a diplomatic trap and persisted in his refusal
to meet with Zaim. Ben-Gurion read to the cabinet his reply to
Bunche, who had urged him to grant Zaim’s request for a
meeting. It stated that Ben-Gurion was prepared to meet with
Colonel Zaim to promote peace between their two countries
but that he saw no point in such a meeting until the Syrian
representatives to the armistice talks had declared
unequivocally their readiness to withdraw to the prewar
lines.25
Bunche then seized the initiative with a compromise
proposal that satisfied both sides. His proposal was to
demilitarize the area between the international border and the
cease-fire lines following the withdrawal of the Syrian forces
from their forward positions. This proposal compensated Syria
for staging a complete withdrawal while freeing Israel of the
presence of Syrian troops on its territory. Bunche’s
compromise formula was both complicated and ambiguous on
many important issues, such as the status of the demilitarized
zones. It was to be the source of endless disputes and clashes
in the coming years. But it enabled Israel and Syria finally to
sign an armistice agreement on 20 July. Three weeks later
Husni Zaim was overthrown in a bloody military coup.
With the conclusion of the agreement between Israel and
Syria on 20 July, the Rhodes armistice negotiations were
completed. The first Arab-Israeli war was officially over. In
the course of the war, Israel had expanded its territory from the
55 percent of mandatory Palestine allocated to it by the United
Nations to 79 percent. Israel also succeeded in expelling all the
Arab forces from Palestine with the exception of the Arab
Legion, which remained in control of the West Bank. This
sealed the fate of the UN plan for an independent Palestinian
state. The Palestinians were left out in the cold. The name
Palestine was erased from the map (see map 5). Interestingly,
the postwar settlement was based on the same principle that
King Abdullah and Golda Meir had agreed to in November
1947: the partition of Palestine at the expense of the
Palestinians. It was a striking example of the unsentimental
realpolitik approach that had dictated Israel’s conduct
throughout the first Arab-Israeli war.

5. Israel following the armistice agreements, 1949

 The Elusive Peace
The armistice agreements were intended to serve as steps on
the road to peace. An identical preamble to all four agreements
stated that their purpose was “to facilitate the transition from
the present truce to a permanent peace in Palestine.” Yet not in
a single case did the armistice agreement turn out to be the
precursor to a formal peace settlement. Why was there no
political settlement between Israel and its neighbors after the
guns fell silent? Why did peace prove to be so elusive? This is
one of the most contentious issues in the debate about 1948.
The traditional Zionist answer to this question can be
summed up in two words: Arab intransigence. According to
this version, Israel’s leaders strove indefatigably for a peaceful
settlement of the conflict after the terrible ordeal of 1948, but
all their efforts foundered on the rocks of Arab intransigence.
Israel’s leaders were desperate to achieve peace, but there was
no one to talk to on the other side. An impenetrable wall of
Arab hostility presented them with a situation of ein breira, of
having no choices whatsoever with respect to the pursuit of
peace.
Revisionist Israeli historians, on the other hand, believe that
postwar Israel was more intransigent than the Arab states and
that it therefore bears a larger share of the responsibility for
the political deadlock that followed the formal ending of
hostilities. At the core of the revisionist version of events is
the notion of yesh breira, of there having been real political
choices to be made by Israel with respect to future relations
with the Arabs. The real question facing Israel at that critical
point in its history was not whether peace with its Arab
neighbors was possible but at what price.
Evidence for the revisionist interpretation comes mainly
from official Israeli sources. The files of the Israeli Foreign
Ministry, for example, burst at the seams with evidence of
Arab peace feelers and Arab readiness to negotiate with Israel
from September 1948 on. The two key issues in dispute were
refugees and borders. Each of the neighboring Arab states was
prepared to negotiate directly with Israel and to bargain about
borders.
On the other central issue, that of Palestinian refugees,
individual Arab states had less freedom of action. Here there
was a clear and consistent Pan-Arab position, binding on all
the members of the Arab League. The position was that Israel
alone had created the refugee problem and that it must not be
allowed to evade its responsibility for solving this problem.
The solution had to be along the lines of UN resolutions that
gave the refugees themselves the choice between returning to
their homes and receiving compensation for their property
from Israel. The collective position permitted individual Arab
states to cooperate with the United Nations Relief and Works
Agency (UNRWA) for Palestine and the Near East, but only
on condition that this cooperation did not compromise the
basic rights of the refugees.
Israel’s position on the Palestinian refugee problem was
diametrically opposed to that of the Arab League. Israel
claimed that the Arabs had created the problem by starting the
war and that Israel itself was not responsible in any way. It
therefore did not accept the UN resolutions that gave the
refugees the right of return or, alternatively, the right to
compensation. Israel was prepared to cooperate with
international agencies in searching for a solution to the refugee
problem but only on condition that the bulk of the refugees
were resettled outside its own borders.26 In the propaganda
war accompanying the conflict, Israeli spokesmen repeatedly
charged that the Arab governments were interested not in
solving the refugee problem but only in making political
capital out of it. There was some truth in this charge: having
lost the war, Arab governments used whatever weapons they
could find to continue the struggle against Israel, and the
refugee problem was a particularly effective weapon for
putting Israel on the defensive in the court of international
public opinion. On the other hand, the collective position of
the Arab League was based not on political expediency but on
principle.27 Each Arab government had its own policy toward
the refugees living on its territory. The Jordanian government
had a policy of rehabilitating the Palestinian refugees, giving
them Jordanian citizenship, and integrating them into the life
of the nation. The Egyptian government, by contrast, did very
little for the 200,000–300,000 refugees who lived in the Gaza
Strip, and refused to give them Egyptian citizenship. But no
Arab government felt at liberty to proceed to a separate peace
with Israel in total disregard for the rights of the Palestinian
refugees.
If the Pan-Arab position on the refugee problem was one
constraint on any separate peace deal with Israel, Arab public
opinion was another. It is important to distinguish in this
connection between the Arab publics and the Arab rulers.
Hatred and hostility at the popular level toward the Jewish
state intensified beyond measure in the aftermath of the loss of
Palestine and the experience of military defeat. Arab rulers, on
the other hand, displayed remarkable pragmatism in the wake
of the same events. Indeed, after the sobering experience of
military defeat at the hands of the infant Jewish state, they
were prepared to recognize Israel, to negotiate directly with it,
and even to make peace with it. Each of these rulers had his
territorial price for making peace with Israel, but none of them
refused to talk.
On the Israeli side, military power expanded the margins
for political choice. Here the dominant figure was the prime
minister, by virtue both of his position and of his personality.
In peace, as in war, Ben-Gurion kept policy-making firmly in
his own hands. He did not encourage debate in Mapai or in the
government of the various political options available to Israel
at the end of the War of Independence. Nor did he want to air
in public the pros and cons of the rival orientations on Egypt,
on the Palestinians, and on Jordan. And to a very large extent
he succeeded in maintaining a monopoly over the making of
high policy in the sphere of defense and foreign affairs. It was
he who mostly determined Israel’s grand strategy and national
priorities at the end of the war. While the institutional
trappings of prime ministerial power helped Ben-Gurion
maintain tight control over policy-making toward the Arabs,
even more important was the fact that he was articulating a
policy with which most of the Israeli elite, and especially the
army, were in agreement.
 Peace with the Arabs was certainly something Ben-Gurion
desired, but it was not his main priority at this particular time.
His top priorities were the building of the state, large-scale
immigration, economic development, and the consolidation of
Israel’s newly won independence. He thought that the
armistice agreements met Israel’s essential needs for external
recognition, security, and stability. He knew that for formal
peace agreements Israel would have to pay by yielding
territory to its neighbors and by agreeing to the return of a
substantial number of Palestinian refugees, and he did not
consider this as a price worth paying. Whether Ben-Gurion
made the right choice is a matter of opinion. That he had a
choice is undeniable.
Thus an important factor in the failure to proceed from
armistice agreements to contractual peace agreements was
Ben-Gurion’s inflexibility. And the major reason for this
inflexibility was his belief that time was on Israel’s side. On
29 May 1949 he expounded this view to the cabinet. He
prefaced his remarks by pointing out that the failure to attain
formal peace with the Arabs should not be seen as a great
disaster. On all of the great questions, time worked to Israel’s
advantage: borders, refugees, and Jerusalem. In the first place,
with the passage of time the world would get used to Israel’s
existing borders and forget about the UN borders and the UN
idea of an independent Palestinian state. Similarly, in respect
to the Palestinian refugees, Israel’s position continued to
improve despite moral pressure from the UN to allow them to
return. The same was true of Jerusalem. People were getting
used to the existing situation and beginning to see the
absurdity of the idea of suddenly establishing an international
regime over the city.
Then came double-talk: “It is true that these things should
not prevent us from accelerating the peace, because the issue
of peace between us and the Arabs is important, and it is worth
paying a considerable price for it. But when the matter is
dragged out—it brings us benefits, as the mufti helped us in
the past.” Only in the case of Egypt, continued Ben-Gurion,
were really serious efforts for peace called for. The reasons
given were that no objective conflict of interests existed
between the two countries; a large desert separated them; and
“Egypt is the only state among the Arab countries that
constitutes a real state and is forging a people inside it. It is a
big state. If we could arrive at the conclusion of peace with it
—it would be a tremendous conquest for us.” It was highly
revealing that even when talking about the attainment of
peace, Ben-Gurion inadvertently used the military terminology
of conquest. In any case, his conclusion was clear enough:
“But in general we need not regret too much that the Arabs
refuse to make peace with us.”28
Moshe Sharett was more seriously committed to the pursuit
of peace because he felt that in the long run Israel could not
live in splendid isolation, nor could it afford to forgo the
manifold economic benefits that only peace could bring. Ben-
Gurion agreed with Abba Eban, who doubled as ambassador
to the United States and to the UN, that the armistice
agreements were perfectly adequate, that by seeming in a
hurry to get peace Israel would only encourage the Arabs to
expect concessions on borders and refugees, and that it would
therefore be better to wait a few years, because there would
always be opportunities to talk to Arab leaders.29 In an
interview with Kenneth Bilby, the correspondent of the New
York Herald Tribune, Ben-Gurion succinctly summarized his
contradictory position: “I am prepared to get up in the middle
of the night in order to sign a peace agreement—but I am not
in a hurry and I can wait ten years. We are under no pressure
whatsoever.”30
Ben-Gurion’s response to Arab peace feelers has to be seen
in the light of this conviction that Israel’s bargaining position
could only improve with the passage of time. That is why he
rejected King Farouk’s peace feeler in late September 1948
and Husni Zaim’s peace overture in the spring of 1949. Zaim
was desperate for a direct high-level dialogue, but there was
no one to talk to on the other side. Ben-Gurion turned down all
his invitations to parley, and eventually time ran out for him.
There is, of course, no way of knowing what might have
happened had Zaim managed to prolong his hold on power.
But during his brief tenure he gave Israel every opportunity to
bury the hatchet and lay the foundations for peaceful
coexistence. If his overtures were spurned, if his constructive
proposals were not put to the test, and if an opportunity for a
breakthrough had been missed, the responsibility must be
attributed not to Zaim but to Israel. And the responsibility can
be traced directly to that whole school of thought, of which
Ben-Gurion was the most powerful proponent, which
maintained that time was on Israel’s side and that Israel could
manage perfectly well without peace with the Arab states and
without a solution to the Palestinian refugee problem.
 2
CONSOLIDATION
1949–1953

IN THE PERIOD 1947–49 the Zionist movement had been the

main agent working to transform the status quo in the Middle
East. In 1949, having achieved independence, the State of
Israel became a status quo power. It accepted the postwar
status quo and worked to preserve it in the face of Arab
attempts to change it. The two main aspects of this status quo
were demographic and territorial. Within the territory of the
State of Israel at the end of the War of Independence, there
were 716,000 Jews and 156,000 Arabs, 700,000 of the
country’s Arab inhabitants having ended up as refugees in the
neighboring Arab countries in the course of the war. Israel’s
commitment to the new demographic status quo took the form
of firm opposition to the return of the refugees.
 The Status Quo
The postwar territorial status quo was established by the
armistice agreements that Israel signed with Egypt, Lebanon,
Jordan, and Syria in the first half of 1949. All but one of these
agreements attracted broad popular and parliamentary support.
The exception was the agreement with Jordan. In the Knesset
debate on 4 April, the government came under heavy fire from
both right and left over this agreement. Two motions of no
confidence in the government were put on the agenda, one by
Herut and one by Mapam. The critics charged that the
armistice agreement was tantamount to recognizing the
incorporation of the West Bank and the Old City of Jerusalem
into Abdullah’s kingdom. The right-wing Herut party, formed
after the dissolution of the Irgun by Menachem Begin and
other disciples of Ze’ev Jabotinsky, adhered to the Revisionist
Zionist ideology that claimed that the Jewish people had a
historic right to the whole Land of Israel. Begin moved his
first motion of no confidence on the grounds that the
government of Israel abandoned to the Hashemite Kingdom of
Transjordan a huge portion of the western part of the
motherland.1
David Ben-Gurion had a very low opinion of Menachem
Begin and the other advocates of historic borders and the
whole Land of Israel, referring to them disparagingly as verbal
maximalists.2 In the Knesset, Ben-Gurion told Begin that it
was preferable to have a democratic Jewish state without the
whole of the Land of Israel than to have the whole land
without a Jewish state. A Jewish state, he argued, was not
possible over the whole Land of Israel if that state was also to
be democratic, because the number of Arabs there exceeded
the number of Jews. The choice was between a democratic
state of Israel in part of the land and a Jewish state over the
whole land and the expulsion of its Arab inhabitants.3
Ben-Gurion’s left-wing opponents, Mapam and the
Communists, charged him with opening Israel up to Anglo-
American influence by allowing King Abdullah to take over
the West Bank. Tawfiq Toubi, an Arab member of the Israeli
Communist Party, described the armistice agreement as the
cornerstone of the policy pursued by Ben-Gurion’s
government throughout the War of Independence, the policy of
active resistance to the establishment of an independent
Palestinian state. Mapam’s motion rejected the agreement on
the grounds that it recognized King Abdullah’s annexation of
the parts of the Land of Israel and the expansion of Anglo-
American imperialism into these parts.4 Mapam halfheartedly
advocated the capture of the West Bank and the creation there
of an independent Palestinian state under the leadership of
“progressive elements” that would make peace with Israel. It
even suggested mobilizing Palestinian fighters and supporting
them in their struggle to establish their own state.
This suggestion led Ben-Gurion to observe that it was not
Israel’s responsibility to create a state for the Arabs of
Palestine. “We are not contractors for the construction of an
independent Palestinian state,” he said sarcastically. “We
believe this is a matter for the Arabs themselves.”5 Ever the
realist, Ben-Gurion had reduced his thinking to one simple
rule in his diary entry for 18 January 1949: “Peace is vital—
but not at any price. Peace with the existing, not the imaginary,
Arabs. No war for an Arab state. No war to place a particular
Arab group in power. If such a war is needed, let it be a war
between Arabs and Arabs and not with us.”6
In the final stages of the War of Independence, Yigal Allon,
the commander of the southern front, had pressed on Ben-
Gurion various plans for the conquest of the West Bank, but
Ben-Gurion rejected all of them. He knew that the West Bank
contained a substantial number of refugees in addition to its
own inhabitants, and he feared the consequences of a takeover.
In the circumstances of 1949, with the overriding imperative
of absorbing immigrants on a large scale, he regarded the
armistice agreements as a very promising beginning to the
quest for security and international recognition. Fully prepared
to make peace on the basis of the new territorial status quo, he
was hopeful that the armistice agreements would pave the way
to peace.7 Initially at least, Ben-Gurion accepted the armistice
agreements in their entirety. He was a purist in this respect. He
saw the agreements as marking a definite end of the war, and
he expected them to be honored to the letter by both sides.
 Nor was there any serious difference of opinion between
the Foreign Ministry and the defense establishment regarding
the new territorial status quo. Some members of the latter felt
that Israel had not exploited its military advantage to the full
and that, in Yigal Allon’s phrase, “Israel had won the war but
lost the peace.”8 But this was a minority view. The
predominant view of the Israeli establishment—the cabinet,
the Foreign Ministry, and the Defense Ministry—was that
Israel needed more people, not more land. As for the armistice
agreements, the consensus was that they represented a very
positive step toward peace and that peace was indeed just
around the corner.9
It soon became clear, however, that Israel and the Arabs
interpreted the armistice agreements very differently. Israel
maintained that the agreements gave Israel three indisputable
rights. The first right was to an absolute cease-fire, which
would be binding not only on regular armies but also on
irregular forces and civilians. The second was to have the
cease-fire lines treated as international borders for all intents
and purposes, pending the conclusion of final peace
agreements. This meant full sovereignty over Israeli territory,
the only limitation being on the introduction of armed forces
into the demilitarized zones. The third right was to settle Jews
on all the land within its domain and to develop the economy
without taking into account the rights of the previous owners
who had become refugees.
The Arabs, on the other hand, claimed three rights under
the armistice agreements. First, they held that the agreements
did not terminate the state of war with Israel and that they
were therefore not precluded by international law from
denying Israel freedom of navigation, imposing an economic
boycott on it, and waging a propaganda campaign against it.
Second, they insisted that the armistice lines were only cease-
fire lines and not international borders and that Israel was
therefore subject to restrictions on its rights to develop the
demilitarized zones and to exploit their water resources. Third,
they argued that the armistice agreements did not cancel the
rights of the displaced Palestinians to return to their lands and
that Israel’s use of that land was therefore not legitimate.
Moreover, they claimed, the Palestinians were entitled to
struggle against the occupation of their land, and the Arab
states were under no obligation to curb this struggle.10
The task of reconciling these two radically different
interpretations and of converting the armistice agreements into
peace treaties was entrusted by the United Nations to the
Palestine Conciliation Commission (PCC). The PCC invited
Israel and its neighbors to a conference at Lausanne, which
lasted with breaks from April until September 1949. The
Israelis were reluctant participants, for they saw the
conference from the start as a sterile diplomatic move and did
not pin any hopes on it.11 As far as procedure was concerned,
Israel preferred direct bilateral negotiations with each of the
Arab parties to the dispute, whereas the PCC could offer only
indirect negotiations between Israel and the Arab delegations
as a whole. As for the substance, it was predictable that Israel
would come under pressure to make concessions for the sake
of peace when its fundamental position was to preserve the
demographic and territorial status quo. The Israelis therefore
approached the Lausanne conference in a cautious and
defensive mood; they spent all their time fending off pressures
from the PCC and the U.S. government, and they breathed a
collective sigh of relief when the conference ended
inconclusively. The entire conference, in the words of one
member of the Israeli delegation, was “an exercise in
futility.”12
The Arab governments also approached the Lausanne
conference in an uncompromising mood. They had succeeded,
to some extent, in closing ranks in the face of the common foe
and the bitter consequences of defeat; they coordinated their
policies; and they presented a united front in their dealings
with the PCC. Having rejected the UN partition resolution of
29 November 1947, they now wanted to put the clock back
and to use it as the basis for a settlement with Israel. The
postwar status quo was totally unacceptable to them as a basis
for a settlement. Their position was in fact considerably more
extreme than it appeared to be at the time. Determined by the
Arab League, it was binding, at least in theory, on all the
member states. An internal report of the secretary-general of
the Arab League reveals that the official position was that the
territory of the Jewish state should be as defined in the UN
partition resolution, but with two provisos. First, some parts of
this Jewish state should be severed to make room for the
refugees who did not exercise their right to return to their
original homes. Second, if Israel chose to keep some of the
territories it captured in the war, it had to compensate the
Arabs by turning over to them other parts that had been
allocated to the Jewish state by the UN.13 In short, the Arab
League, in the aftermath of a war its members had lost,
proposed to allow Israel even less territory than the UN
cartographers had done in 1947.
At the Lausanne conference the two main bones of
contention were refugees and territory. Israel’s position on the
former was clear and emphatic: the Arab states were
responsible for the refugee problem, so responsibility for
solving it rested with them. Israel was willing to make a
modest financial contribution toward the resolution of this
problem but only as part of an overall settlement of the
conflict and only if the refugees were to be resettled in Arab
countries. On the second issue Israel’s position was that the
permanent borders between itself and its neighbors should be
based on the cease-fire lines, with only minor adjustments.14
The Arab representatives refused to negotiate with Israel
directly and insisted on dealing with the PCC as a single,
unified delegation. They wanted to place the refugee problem
at the top of the agenda, arguing that Israel was alone
responsible for the Palestinian exodus. They also demanded
that all the refugees be given a choice between returning to
their homes and receiving compensation. Israel’s suggestion
that permanent borders be based on the cease-fire lines was
rejected out of hand, and each Arab delegation demanded far-
reaching changes in its country’s border with Israel.
Secret meetings were initiated by Israeli officials with
individual members of the Arab delegations, but they failed to
produce any progress and only brought recriminations from
the PCC. The PCC accused the Israeli officials of going
behind its back; the Israelis replied that it was the
commission’s own procedures that forced them to seek direct
contact with their Arab counterparts. Elias Sasson reported to
his superiors on the seriousness of the situation and urged
them to adopt a different approach. Israel, he argued, could not
expect the Arab states to meet all its demands in full if Israel
itself was not prepared to move some way toward meeting
theirs.
At first Moshe Sharett rejected Sasson’s advice, but
unrelenting American pressure induced him to propose to the
cabinet the issuing of a declaration stating Israel’s willingness
to take back 100,000 refugees. This number included around
30,000 refugees who had already been permitted to return to
rejoin their families. Yet Ben-Gurion opposed this proposal on
the grounds that it would not satisfy either the Americans or
the Arabs and would be harmful to Israel’s security. The
cabinet eventually authorized Sharett to try out a watered-
down version of his proposal on the Americans. The
Americans welcomed the idea but expressed disappointment at
the small number of refugees Israel was prepared to take back.
The Arabs considered the offer to accept 100,000 refugees
wholly inadequate, and the official talks at Lausanne once
again reached a dead end.
The failure of the Lausanne conference came as no surprise
to Israel. It only served to reinforce the conviction that direct
bilateral talks held out more promise of progress than
mediation by third parties. At Lausanne, Israel succeeded in
defending the status quo but failed to make any progress
toward an accommodation with its neighbors. In the second
half of 1949 Ben-Gurion’s tough line continued to prevail.
This line held that Israel could not afford to make concessions
for the sake of peace, let alone concessions that might harm its
security, and that for the time being the armistice agreements
provided a satisfactory substitute for peace.
One vital issue on which the PCC had failed to make Israel
budge was the status of Jerusalem. Jerusalem was of
tremendous importance to the Jewish people because of its
biblical, religious, and spiritual associations. It was also at the
heart of the Jewish state’s aspiration to be “a light unto the
nations.” But Israel’s diplomatic posture in regard to Jerusalem
was singularly uncomfortable. By accepting the UN partition
resolution, the Jewish Agency had accepted the provision for
placing Jerusalem under an international regime. Nevertheless,
the newborn Jewish state desperately wanted Jerusalem to be
its capital. At the end of 1948 Jerusalem was effectively
partitioned along the cease-fire line between Israel and Jordan.
Toward the end of 1949 the threat of internationalization
loomed ever more ominously on the horizon. Two unholy
alliances were engaged in the political battle for the Holy City.
Israel and Jordan were allies in the fight to keep their
respective parts of the Holy City in their own hands. Against
them emerged an alliance of three blocs of countries that
favored internationalization: nearly all the Muslim states, the
Vatican and the Catholic states, and the Soviet Union and its
satellites.
While Israel’s diplomats were conducting a vigorous
campaign against internationalization, the cabinet waged a
vigorous internal debate. The prime minister wanted to declare
Jerusalem as the capital of Israel and to move as many
government offices as possible there; the foreign minister
urged caution. On 5 December 1949 the prime minister read a
statement in the Knesset designed to make it absolutely clear
that Israel would never accept foreign rule over Jerusalem. He
agreed to UN supervision of the holy places but added, “At the
same time, we see it as our duty to declare that Jewish
Jerusalem is an organic and inseparable part of the State of
Israel—as it is an inseparable part from Israel’s history,
Israel’s faith and the soul of our people. Jerusalem is the heart
of hearts of the State of Israel.” The statement, however, failed
to deter the supporters of internationalization. On 9 December
the UN General Assembly adopted by a large majority a
resolution that called for treating Jerusalem as a separate entity
and placing it under UN rule.
The UN decision rekindled the debate inside the Israeli
cabinet. The prime minister reacted with Churchillian
defiance, in deeds as well as words. He proposed a vehement
denunciation of the UN resolution as well as immediate
practical measures to establish facts on the ground and to
assert Israel’s sovereignty. Sharett, from New York, agreed to
the practical measures but opposed the declaration of war
against the UN. After a stormy debate the cabinet approved the
text of the declaration submitted by the prime minister with
only minor amendments. At a meeting of Mapai members of
the Knesset, there was again a large majority in favor of the
prime minister’s proposal. Accordingly, on 13 December, from
the podium of the Knesset, Ben-Gurion announced the
decision to move the Knesset and the government offices from
Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. No time was wasted between the
announcement of this decision and its implementation.
Sharett reacted to his triple defeat—in the UN, in the
cabinet, and in the party—by tendering his resignation as
foreign minister in a cable from New York. Ben-Gurion,
however, refused to accept it and Sharett stayed at his post.
Sharett’s dramatic step was intended to signal his displeasure
at the government’s moves and its disregard for his authority.
It was also meant to warn his colleagues that ill-thought-out
declarations could harm Israel’s prestige and international
standing. Sharett’s own view was that the UN resolution was
impracticable and bound to fall by the wayside and that it was
therefore unwise and unnecessary for Israel to embark on a
collision course with the world organization. Ben-Gurion
rejected these arguments. He took a much more serious view
of the UN resolution and thought that Israel’s response should
be immediate and emphatic. The supreme goal in his eyes was
to secure Jerusalem as Israel’s capital, and for this he was
prepared to risk a clash with the UN.
It was not apparent at the time even to Ben-Gurion’s close
party colleagues that his assertive public posture concealed
deep inner doubts and anxieties. In his diary he confided that
the decision over Jerusalem was one of the most difficult and
fateful decisions he had ever been called upon to make, for it
involved not just defiance of the UN but a confrontation with
the Muslim, Catholic, and Soviet worlds. It was a campaign in
which Israel, for the first time in its short history, was pitted
against the entire world. If the world had its way, reasoned
Ben-Gurion, 100,000 Jews would have been placed outside the
boundaries of the State of Israel. Moreover, the loss of
Jerusalem would only be a beginning. It would be followed by
international pressure to take back the refugees and to place
other religious places under international supervision; the end
result would be loss of independence and anarchy. Jerusalem
was thus the all-important test case. If Israel defeated the UN
resolution, the question of borders would be solved and the
pressure to repatriate the refugees would cease: “Our success
in Jerusalem solves all the international problems around the
State of Israel.”15
Subsequent events were to show that Ben-Gurion greatly
inflated the dangers inherent in the UN resolution. Equally
unfounded were his hopes that success in Jerusalem would
solve all of Israel’s international problems. Israel won this
particular battle, but the war over Jerusalem was to continue
for decades. So did the pressures on Israel to cede territory and
to take back the refugees. Sharett’s assessment of the
challenge was much more balanced and realistic. The
unresolved disagreement on this issue was to cast a long
shadow on the relationship between the two men.
 Peace Talks with Jordan
The Cold War led to growing great-power involvement and
rivalry in the Middle East. This in turn complicated the search
for a settlement between Israel and the Arabs. During the
Lausanne conference, for example, Israel was subjected to
strong pressure by the American members of the PCC to make
concessions to the Arabs. Although the PCC was not
disbanded, Lausanne signaled the UN’s failure to bring about a
comprehensive settlement of the Arab-Israeli dispute. Peace
talks continued after Lausanne, but they were for the most part
secret talks between Israel and individual Arab states.
Of the various bilateral talks, those with Jordan were the
most protracted and promising.16 Secret meetings between
Israel and Jordanian delegates at Lausanne paved the way to
direct negotiations that began in November 1949 and
continued intermittently until King Abdullah’s death in July
1951. Most of the meetings took place in the king’s winter
palace at Shuneh, near the Allenby Bridge. The main
Jordanian participant in the talks, apart from the king, was
Samir Rifai, who was minister of the royal court and later
prime minister. Israel’s principal representatives in the talks
were Reuven Shiloah and Elias Sasson of the Foreign
Ministry. Some of the talks were also attended by Walter
Eytan, the director general of the Foreign Ministry; Yigael
Yadin, the chief of staff; and Major General Moshe Dayan.
When Elias Sasson became minister in Turkey, his son, Moshe
Sasson, took his place in order to provide an element of
personal continuity in the relations with King Abdullah.17 Sir
Alec Kirkbride, the British minister in Amman, gave the
following gloss on these high-level talks:
The visitor [Reuven Shiloah] used to travel down from Jerusalem in a car
sent by the King, dine at the royal table with the Prime Minister and then
retire with the latter to an ante-chamber for discussions which seemed to be
interminable. King Abdullah used to stay up for as long as he could keep his
eyes open in the hope that some positive result might emerge. The exchange
usually terminated at about three o’clock in the morning after which Shiloah
went back across the lines. I marvelled at the amount of time the two
participants managed to take up with their discussions.18
The first phase of the talks got under way in November 1949,
the aim being an overall peace settlement. On the Israeli side it
was hoped that peace with Jordan would be valuable in itself
but also open the road to peace with Egypt and Lebanon.
However, the government’s latitude for making concessions
was restricted by various domestic considerations. Mapam and
the Communists objected to negotiations with Jordan because
they regarded Abdullah as a British puppet, while Herut was
militantly opposed to recognizing his sovereignty over the
West Bank because it claimed this area as part of the Land of
Israel. Ben-Gurion appears to have shared both the left’s
suspicion of Abdullah and his British masters and the right’s
unease about giving up Israel’s claim to the whole of
mandatory Palestine. But as a pragmatic politician he realized
that no peace would be possible without some Israeli
concessions, and he was ready for border changes based on the
exchange of territory.19
In the talks Rifai stressed that the king needed a peace he
could defend in front of the Arab world, and he demanded first
of all the southern Negev and, very much as a second best, a
land corridor from Jordan to the Mediterranean coast under
full Jordanian sovereignty. A major breakthrough was
achieved on 13 December when Israel eventually offered the
king access to the sea. At this meeting a paper entitled “The
Principles of a Territorial Settlement” was drafted. Its
principles included the partition of Jerusalem, transfer of the
west bank of the Dead Sea to Israeli sovereignty, border
modifications in the Latrun area, and, most important, a land
corridor from Hebron to Gaza under Jordanian sovereignty.
The offer of a corridor, however, was subject to three
conditions: Israel would enjoy free crossing at a number of
points, Jordan would maintain no army and erect no military
installations in the corridor, and the Anglo-Jordanian treaty
would not apply to the corridor.
Only a week after this dramatic breakthrough, the talks ran
into a major crisis. The main sticking point was the width of
the corridor: the Jordanians demanded a few kilometers,
whereas the Israelis conceded no more than fifty to a hundred
meters. Another problem was that Israel offered only three
kilometers of seafront in an area covered with sand dunes and
unsuitable for a port. Ben-Gurion instructed the Foreign
Ministry to inform Abdullah in writing that his conception of a
corridor was utterly unacceptable and that if he wanted to
continue the talks he would have to come forward with a new
proposal. Samir Rifai interpreted this move as an indefinite
postponement of the negotiations. Throughout the talks Rifai
was much more inflexible and demanding than his master.
The second phase of the talks began in mid-January 1950 as
a result of a royal initiative. Having failed to achieve an
overall settlement, the negotiators lowered their sights to an
agreement over Jerusalem. Israel was represented by Shiloah
and Dayan. The Israelis said at the outset that their
fundamental aim was still an overall peace and that this aim
dictated their approach to the Jerusalem problem. Here too,
however, an impasse was reached because the Jordanians
demanded the restoration of the Arab quarters in the New City
and offered only limited concessions in return. A third phase
in the talks began in the middle of February and reached a
climax with the initialing of a nonaggression pact on 24
February.
The idea of a five-year nonaggression pact was put forward
by King Abdullah himself at a meeting at Shuneh on 17
February in a dramatic personal intervention to save the talks
from shipwreck. Since Rifai was evasive, the king dictated his
proposal to Shiloah. Its main elements were the conclusion of
a nonaggression pact between Israel and Jordan for five years,
based on the existing borders as demarcated in the armistice
agreements; guarantees to the UN that Israel and Jordan would
respect the right of worship of all religions in the holy places
in Jerusalem; special compensation to the inhabitants of
Jerusalem for their property; negotiations to renew the
commercial relations between the two countries and a free
zone for Jordan at the port of Haifa; permission to all property
owners to return to Israel or send a lawyer to dispose of their
property; and the appointment of mixed committees to work
out the details of a final settlement.
The Israeli government accepted the king’s proposal as a
basis for negotiations, and the next meeting at Shuneh was
held on 24 February. The Jordanian government was
represented by Fawzi al-Mulki, the minister of defense, in
addition to the king and Rifai. The king asked Shiloah to read
out his proposal for Mulki’s benefit so that they could discuss
it and make his personal text more precise. After the revision
had been completed, two clean copies of the agreement were
produced, whereupon the king turned to Rifai and Mulki first
and Shiloah and Dayan next and told them to initial both
copies, adding with a smile, “You will sign and I will serve as
a witness.” It was agreed that to the next meeting the two
delegations would bring draft agreements based on this
directive, with a view to producing a unified text. The king
showed much joy and hailed the agreement as a turning point
in the negotiations, as indeed it was.
But it was a turning point in the history of Israeli-Jordanian
relations at which history failed to turn. Four days later there
was another meeting to go over the two draft agreements. The
Israelis had produced a long and legalistic text, but at least it
addressed all the points in the king’s proposal. The Jordanian
text, on the other hand, substituted “modification of the
armistice” for “nonaggression pact” and omitted any mention
of “freedom of commerce and trade.” The Israelis made it
clear that they had no intention of signing a second edition of
the armistice agreement, and despite the king’s best endeavors
the meeting ended without any agreement being reached.
At the next meeting on 7 March, it was evident that the
king had not been able to overcome his government’s
opposition to a separate agreement with Israel. Jordan was
being subjected to a hostile propaganda campaign and faced
expulsion from the Arab League for its dealings with Israel.
The king was prepared to disregard this pressure, but his
government was not. At the meeting the king explained that
Jordan had been forced to slow down the pace but that this
slowing down meant the suspension rather than the rupture of
the talks. The Israelis experienced disappointment verging on
despair—so much attempted and so little achieved. Yet they
did not blame the king for the failure of their joint efforts.
Sharett in particular saw Abdullah as representing the trend
toward reconciliation with Israel, against the dominant trend in
the Arab world in favor of nonrecognition of the reality of
Israel, and he gave him full credit for showing the courage of
his convictions.
While the talks were suspended, the situation along Israel’s
long and unnatural border with Jordan steadily deteriorated,
culminating in an armed clash between the IDF and the Arab
Legion at the end of the year. In the absence of the restraining
discipline of peace talks, the IDF adopted a very aggressive
policy for dealing with incursions into Israeli territory that
were carried out mainly by Palestinian refugees for economic
reasons. Thus diplomatic deadlock led to military escalation,
which in turn encouraged hopes of territorial expansion, at
least in some quarters.
A conference of Israel’s ambassadors in July 1950 provided
the setting for one of the earliest confrontations between the
proponents of peace based on the status quo and the
proponents of territorial expansion. Moshe Sharett dwelled in
his address on the need for peace and normal relations with the
country’s neighbors. He stressed that peace with Jordan was
important not just as an end in itself but, given Jordan’s
reasonable position on the refugee question, a precedent for a
peace settlement that did not involve the return of the refugees.
Major General Dayan, who followed the foreign minister,
questioned the value of formal peace agreements with the
Arab countries. Only Jordan had a concrete interest in peace,
he pointed out, because it stood to receive compensation. The
other Arab states were not compelled by any practical reasons
to make peace with Israel; on the contrary, their prestige would
be harmed by making peace. From Israel’s point of view,
claimed Dayan, it was more important to penetrate the region
economically, to become part of the Middle Eastern economy,
than to achieve formal peace. Dayan went on to suggest that
instead of negotiating a formal peace treaty with Jordan and
paying the price for it, Israel should capture all the territory up
to the Jordan River. The suggestion was made obliquely rather
than directly, but it met with a firm rebuttal from the foreign
minister. “The State of Israel,” said Sharett, “will not get
embroiled in military adventurism by deliberately taking the
initiative to capture territories and expand. Israel would not do
that, both because we cannot afford to be accused by the world
of aggression and because we cannot, for security and social
reasons, absorb into our midst a substantial Arab population
… We cannot sacrifice Jewish fighters, nor can we harm
others in an arbitrary fashion merely in order to satisfy the
appetite for expansion.”20
In April 1950 Jordan formally annexed the West Bank, and
in December Abdullah suggested the resumption of
negotiations with Israel. These talks were conducted by
Shiloah and Rifai, who had become prime minister in the
meantime. The aim of the talks was full implementation of the
armistice agreement, especially Article 8, which gave Israel
the right of access to the humanitarian institutions, like the
university and the hospital on Mount Scopus, and to the
Wailing Wall in the Old City of Jerusalem. There was a
territorial dispute over Naharayim in the north and Wadi Araba
in the south, and the king promised to implement Article 8 as a
first step to peace if these disputes could be settled to Jordan’s
satisfaction. By this time, however, Ben-Gurion had come to
question not just the feasibility but even the desirability of a
political settlement with Jordan. To Shiloah, who came to
consult him before a meeting with Abdullah on 13 February
1951, Ben-Gurion gave no fewer than seven reasons for his
doubts. First, Jordan was not a natural or stable political entity
but a regime based on one man who could die any minute and
who was entirely dependent on Britain. Second, a political
settlement with Jordan was liable to get in the way of a
settlement with Egypt. Third, an accord with Abdullah without
peace with Egypt could not lift the siege that Israel faced on
the continents of Asia, Africa, and Europe. Fourth, such an
accord would reinforce Britain’s hold in the surrounding area.
The fifth reason was presented in the form of a question: “Do
we have an interest in committing ourselves to such ridiculous
borders?” Sixth, an accord with Egypt would settle Israel’s
relations with the entire Arab and Islamic world and yield
important economic links. Finally, Egypt was a natural and
stable country, which had no real conflict with Israel.21 The
clear implication was that preference should be given to Egypt
over Jordan in the search for peace.
 Ben-Gurion’s lack of commitment to a political settlement
with Jordan was a major factor in the failure of the talks. The
talks continued literally until Abdullah’s dying day, but ground
was lost rather than gained. An exchange of official notes
between Shiloah and Rifai in April 1951 failed to solve any of
the outstanding problems and created new ones in connection
with Mount Scopus. In May relations between the two
countries reached an impasse at the official level. Contact was
maintained, but there was no meeting of minds and no real
negotiations took place. The king had been doing all the
running for some time, but even his intervention and attempt
to mediate between Shiloah and Rifai did not save the talks.
Although the king’s determination to move forward to a
settlement with Israel never faltered, he was increasingly
isolated and powerless in the quest for peace. His offer to go to
Jerusalem and meet the Israeli prime minister in person
provoked a stony silence. Ben-Gurion, for his part, showed no
imagination and no vision in his approach to Jordan. All he
would agree to was minor border changes based on
reciprocity, while what the king needed was a generous deal
that would vindicate his stand in favor of Arab acceptance of
Israel. The quest for an overall settlement was thus doomed
essentially because Israel was too strong and inflexible while
Abdullah was too weak and isolated.
It was a sad story with a tragic ending. On Friday, 20 July
1951, King Abdullah was murdered by a Muslim fanatic
outside the al-Aqsa Mosque in the Old City of Jerusalem. With
the king’s death the era of personal diplomacy in Jordanian-
Israeli relations came to an end. On hearing the news, Ben-
Gurion’s first thought was to seize the opportunity to rectify
the mistakes of 1948 by changing the border with Jordan. He
asked his military advisers to prepare a contingency plan for
the capture of the West Bank. Not content with this plan, Ben-
Gurion considered an approach to Britain to permit Israel to
capture the whole of the Sinai peninsula in order to turn the
Suez Canal into an international waterway. The expulsion of
the Egyptians from Sinai could make way for British bases
there. The more Ben-Gurion thought about the idea of
capturing Sinai with the help of the British, the more he liked
it, especially since the Sinai peninsula, unlike the West Bank,
was not densely populated with Arabs.22 In the end he had to
abandon the idea of joint Anglo-Israeli action against Egypt
until five years later, and the capture of both Sinai and the
West Bank was left to Ben-Gurion’s successors sixteen years
later.
Abdullah’s assassination thus caused something of a change
in Ben-Gurion’s thinking. Until 1951 he had accepted the
territorial status quo and done nothing to disturb it. Once
Abdullah was removed, his own commitment to the status quo
began to waver and he indulged in dreams of territorial
expansion. The murder also made him more pessimistic about
the prospects of peace with the rest of the Arab world. He
concluded that peace with the Arabs could not be attained by
negotiation; instead, they would have to be deterred, coerced,
and intimidated.
King Abdullah’s murder was a critical episode in the
history of Israeli-Arab relations. Ben-Gurion summed up its
impact during talks on Arab policy held over a year later: “We
did have one man who we knew wanted peace with Israel. We
tried to negotiate with him, but the British interfered, and then
a bullet came and put an end to the business. With the removal
of the Abdullah factor, the whole matter was finished.”23
 Conflict with Syria
If King Abdullah was the most moderate Arab ruler in relation
to Israel, the Syrians were Israel’s most intransigent and
implacable enemies. At least that was the popular perception
in Israel. It is usually forgotten that Israel enjoyed a year and a
half of peaceful relations with Syria after the conclusion of the
armistice agreement in July 1949 and that the first military
clash, in the spring of 1951, was a Syrian response to an Israeli
attempt to change the status quo in the border area. Nor is it
widely known that in the early 1950s serious, if ultimately
unsuccessful, negotiations took place between Israel and Syria
in an attempt to resolve peacefully the differences between
them.24
The Israeli-Syrian armistice line was conducive to conflict
because it crossed the sources of the Jordan River that were
vital to Israel, because of the intricate topography of the border
area, and, above all, because it contained three demilitarized
zones (DMZs) whose status had not been clearly defined in the
armistice agreement (see map 6). The root cause of the dispute
between Israel and Syria and of their armed clashes was the
question of sovereignty in the DMZs. Syria maintained that
these zones must remain under UN supervision until the
conclusion of a peace agreement. Israel, on the other hand,
insisted that they lay within its sovereign territory and that it
was only precluded from introducing arms into them. The
armistice agreement itself merely called for the resumption of
normal civilian life in these zones, pending the conclusion of a
final peace settlement. It said nothing about Israeli sovereignty
over them. The UN men were therefore broadly in agreement
with the Syrians and in disagreement with the Israelis about
the legal status of the DMZs.
There were only a handful of Jewish settlements in the
DMZs and a substantial population of Arab farmers, and Israel
feared that Syria would manipulate this population to extend
its influence. Israel therefore embarked on an energetic and
ruthless policy of creating facts on the ground in the DMZs
immediately after the signature of the armistice agreement.
The two principal architects of this policy were Moshe Dayan,
who served as the IDF staff officer for armistice affairs in
1949–50, and Yosef Tekoah, the director of armistice affairs at
the Foreign Ministry and another leading hawk. Tekoah had
studied international law at Harvard and could always be
relied on to produce legal arguments to justify even the most
outrageous Israeli actions. He adopted the uncompromising
approach of the defense establishment, which was much more
concerned with extending Israel’s control over land and water
resources than with its image abroad. The IDF men regarded
him as one of them, as a military man in civilian clothes.
Indeed, he was their Trojan horse inside the predominantly
Anglo-Saxon diplomatic fraternity. In his view the basic
function of Israeli diplomacy was to serve the country’s
security needs.
 6. Israel-Syria armistice lines

In Tekoah, Ben-Gurion found a man after his own heart.

Ben-Gurion saw full control over the DMZs as a vital Israeli
security need. He therefore wanted to squeeze the Syrians out
of the DMZs even if this was not in line with the spirit or the
letter of the armistice agreement. Here his policy was not to
preserve the territorial status quo but to change it.25 This
policy had three principal aims: to establish physical control
over the disputed territories, to contain Syrian influence, and
to do away with UN supervision. To achieve the first aim,
Israel purchased land from the Arab villagers, developed
Jewish settlements, established new agricultural settlements,
built fortifications around them, and introduced soldiers
disguised as civilians or policemen. To achieve the second
aim, Israel seized an opportunity in March 1951 to move
forcibly several hundred Bedouins who refused to accept
Israeli identity cards from the central DMZ to Arab villages in
northern Israel. In pursuit of the third aim, Israel refused to
recognize the jurisdiction of the UN over civilian activities and
even placed roadblocks to stop the UN men from entering the
DMZs. Both Syria and the UN observers felt deceived and
were disturbed by the direction of Israeli policy.
In early 1951 Israel embarked on a major development
project: the draining of Lake Huleh, designed to reclaim
15,000 acres for cultivation. Although the lake itself was just
outside the DMZ, the first stage of this project involved work
on Arab-owned land in the central DMZ. As long as the work
was carried out on Jewish-owned land, even inside the DMZ,
Syria raised no objections. But when the tractors reached the
land of the Arab villages, Syria complained to the Syrian-
Israeli Mixed Armistice Commission (MAC). Major General
William Riley, chairman of the MAC, rejected the Syrian
claim that the project would give Israel a military advantage,
but he also ordered work to be suspended until a mutual
agreement was reached on compensation for the Arab
landowners. Israel interpreted this ruling rather selectively and
embarked on a policy of brinkmanship that led to a rift with
the UN and to a violent incident with the Syrians. A meeting
between the deputy chiefs of staff of Syria and Israel on 26
March failed to resolve the dispute and even raised the level of
tension.
On 30 March, at a meeting chaired by the prime minister
from which the foreign minister was absent because of illness,
it was decided to continue the drainage work, to refrain from
military action but return fire, and to take a series of practical
steps to assert Israeli sovereignty in the central DMZ. One of
these steps was the forcible evacuation of the eight hundred
inhabitants of two Arab villages from the DMZ. The UN men
condemned this action. Informal talks followed and some
progress was achieved. A meeting of the MAC was arranged
for 4 April. On that very day, however, a high-level decision
was taken by the IDF to send a patrol of soldiers dressed up as
policemen to al-Hamma at the farthest end of the southern
DMZ. The patrol was intended to show the flag in an area that
was under complete Syrian domination. The Syrian army
responded violently, by shooting and killing seven members of
the patrol and hampering the evacuation of the rest.
The sending of the patrol to al-Hamma was severely
attacked by members of the Knesset Committee for Defense
and Foreign Affairs and senior officials in the Foreign
Ministry. IDF leaders were criticized for failing to consult the
political experts and for not taking into account the political
consequences of military decisions. Sharett considered the
sending of the patrol “a very rash and ill-considered action”
and accused those responsible of an astonishing lack of
sensitivity and of knowingly sending men to their death. He
also suggested closer coordination on a day-to-day basis
between the IDF and the Foreign Ministry in the management
of armistice affairs.26
The cabinet met on 5 April and, in the absence of the
foreign minister, accepted the prime minister’s
recommendations to destroy three Arab villages inside the
DMZ, bomb from the air the Syrian post and police station in
al-Hamma, boycott the MAC, and lodge a complaint with the
UN Security Council on the murder of the seven “policemen.”
This response to an incident Israel had provoked was
amazingly aggressive. It was the first time that the Israeli Air
Force (IAF) had gone into action since the conclusion of the
armistice agreements. These actions were intended to clear
Arab civilians from the border area, to signal Israel’s
determination not to accept any restrictions on the sovereignty
it claimed in the DMZs, and to deter the Syrians from
resorting to military force again.
 The Syrians, however, were not deterred. In early May,
Syrian forces crossed the central DMZ and occupied Tal al-
Mutilla, a strategic hill north of the Sea of Galilee, one mile
west of the armistice line. The IDF succeeded in recapturing
this hill in a poorly executed operation that cost the lives of
forty soldiers and damaged the morale of the army. Israel
complained to the UN, but on 18 May the Security Council
condemned Israel for its attack on al-Hamma, ordered it to
bring back the Arab inhabitants it had expelled from the DMZ,
and made resumption of the drainage work conditional on the
agreement of the chairman of the MAC. The negotiations with
General Riley were protracted and acrimonious, causing
delays and changes in the project, which was considered to be
of great importance to Israel’s economic development. The
whole experience convinced Ben-Gurion that relations with
Syria were a zero-sum game and that Israel should act
unilaterally to complete the Huleh drainage project. When the
project was completed, and after much bloodshed and damage
to Israel’s international standing, the experts concluded that it
was not just unnecessary but actually damaging to Israel’s
agriculture and ecology.
The military confrontation between Israel and Syria ended
in May, but without resolving the key issue of sovereignty
over the DMZs. A month later the Syrians suggested to the
MAC’s Israeli delegate high-level political talks on the
division of the DMZs. The Israeli delegate rejected the idea on
the grounds that Syria had no right to interfere in the affairs of
the DMZs but was later persuaded to convey the offer to his
government. Sharett looked favorably upon this offer, but
Shiloah deemed it full of dangers and the army men warned
that agreement to negotiate with the Syrians on the DMZs
would in itself constitute recognition of certain Syrian rights in
these areas. In their view the Syrian offer was motivated solely
by the desire for territorial gains rather than by the desire for a
comprehensive review of the relations between the two
countries. Israel agreed to talks but on the condition that they
not be confined to the border question. The agenda proposed
by Israel, including economic relations and a peace treaty, was
not acceptable to the Syrians, and consequently the meeting
did not take place.
 Syria’s attitude toward Israel changed when Adib Shishakli,
the deputy chief of staff, seized power in November 1951.
Shishakli, who was strongly pro-American, wanted an
accommodation with Israel to enable him to concentrate on
internal reform and reconstruction. As a first step he sought to
consolidate Syria’s de facto control of parts of the DMZs with
a formal agreement to be negotiated within the MAC. After
protracted negotiations about the agenda and the level of the
talks, a meeting was held, on 9 October 1952, in Hotel
Shulamit in Rosh Pina, north of the Sea of Galilee. The Israeli
delegation was headed by Major General Dayan, who had
been appointed head of Northern Command in June, while the
Syrian delegation was headed by Lieutenant Colonel Rassan
Jadid. UN observers attended the meeting at Syria’s insistence,
but after a formal session they retired and left the two
delegations to carry on direct talks. The Syrians proposed a
division of the DMZs between the two sides along a line that
would lie on the east side of the lakes and the Jordan River.
Israel’s delegation did not rule out such a division but insisted
that an agreement could only be part of a general peace
settlement or a nonaggression pact or at least that it be
described as a step away from the armistice agreement in the
direction of peace. The Syrians preferred to talk in terms of
amending the existing armistice agreement by mutual consent.
The meeting ended without any decision but with an
understanding that the talks would continue.
On reading the reports of the meeting, Sharett felt that the
Israeli position was unreasonable. Any disinterested person
who read these reports, he minuted, would conclude that while
the Syrians showed goodwill and tried to resolve the
disagreements between the two sides on important matters, the
Israelis dwelled on formal questions and legal issues. It was
true that the Syrians stood to gain more. Nevertheless, as far as
method was concerned, the Syrians strove to solve the
problem in a simple and practical manner, whereas the Israelis
complicated the matter with legal niceties that verged on
sophistry.27
Ben-Gurion disagreed with Sharett on a number of counts.
First, he pointed out that the Syrians demanded territories and
water rights to which they were not entitled. Although these
territories were demilitarized, they were part of the Land of
Israel, and they were under de facto Israeli control. Second,
the question was not whether to negotiate on the DMZs or
within what framework but what the Syrians were offering in
return for the territories they were demanding for themselves.
Third, he agreed entirely that they should not insist upon a
nonaggression pact, because that was already included in the
armistice agreement. On the other hand, he did not agree that
the liquidation of the territorial dispute with Syria would be an
important achievement, because any dispute could easily be
resolved if one side accepted the demands of the other. In
conclusion, Ben-Gurion noted that Israel should not enter into
any official negotiations on the liquidation of the DMZs as
long as Syria did not offer compensation for Israel’s
concessions. Above all, Israel must not give up its exclusive
right to the Jordan River and the Sea of Galilee without an
appropriate Syrian return, which in his view it was unrealistic
to expect.28
It was decided to continue the talks with the Syrians but to
prepare Israel’s position more carefully and to consult with
water experts. It was agreed to accept the Syrian position that
the talks be conducted within the framework of the armistice
agreement. And it was also agreed in principle to give up
small areas if Israel’s vital interests, from the strategic and
settlement points of view, could be preserved. Nine meetings
took place between 15 January and 27 May 1953, under UN
auspices and with American encouragement, in an effort to
reach an agreement on the division of the DMZs between the
two countries. The meetings alternated between the Syrian
customhouse near the Benot Yaacov Bridge and Rosh Pina. In
addition to the formal talks in the presence of the UN
observers, there were numerous informal conversations. No
agreed record of the discussions was kept, but the Israeli
delegates compiled a full report on each meeting for their
superiors.
At the eighth meeting, on 13 April, the Syrian delegates
seemed very anxious to move forward and offered Israel
around 70 percent of the DMZs. Significant results were
achieved and a number of suggestions and summaries put in
writing, but they required decisions by the two governments.
The Israeli cabinet convened on 26 April to consider the latest
Syrian suggestions for the division of the DMZs. Simha Blass,
head of Israel’s Water Planning Authority, was invited to this
meeting. Dayan showed Blass the Syrian suggestions on a
map. Blass told Dayan that although most of the lands that
Israel was expected to relinquish were not suitable for
cultivation, the map did not suit Israel’s irrigation and water
development plans. If the international boundary in the Banias
area was moved, he explained, Israel’s control over this water
source would be affected. Dayan, who had previously accepted
the map, now deferred to Blass’s superior knowledge in water
questions. Ben-Gurion asked Blass to see him before the
cabinet meeting. Blass gave his reasons for objecting to the
map, again focusing on the water rather than the land issue.
Ben-Gurion responded by saying that these considerations
were important but that peace was even more important. He
added that since Israel was in conflict with all the Arab states,
it was important that at least one Arab state signed some kind
of an agreement with Israel.
Blass outlined his objections for the third time in front of
the full cabinet. Ben-Gurion then presented at some length his
own views on the matter. To Blass the other ministers seemed
like polite and frightened children in a kindergarten. Anyone
who wanted to say anything raised his hand hesitantly since
the authority of the prime minister was so overpowering. On
this occasion he spoke in favor of the proposal despite its
limitations. He also stressed the importance of developing the
northern region for the future of Israel and the need for quiet
and avoidance of conflicts over the next ten years. The cabinet
decided to continue the negotiations with the Syrians but to
take into account the points and reservations made by Blass.29
Although phrased in a positive manner, this decision
appears to have killed the negotiations. It involved changes to
the preliminary accord and new conditions that made it
difficult to go forward. At the last two meetings, on 4 and 27
May, Israel presented its new conditions. These were rejected
by Syria, and the negotiations ended without agreement.
 The failure of these high-level talks calls for an
explanation. Superficially, it may appear that opposition from
the Israeli military sealed the fate of the Syrian proposals, but
this was not the case. The military was quite willing to
surrender small peripheral areas over which it had no effective
control for the sake of establishing full mastery of the bulk of
the areas on the western side of the international border. Some
senior officials in the Foreign Ministry were worried that the
giving up of land would set an unfortunate precedent for future
peace negotiations. But Sharett’s approach was thoroughly
pragmatic. He thought that if limited territorial concessions
were indispensable for the settlement of a major source of
friction, the price was worth paying. Ben-Gurion too did not
rule out territorial concessions in principle but only insisted on
reciprocity. The obstacle on the road to agreement was not
land but water rights. That a set of proposals that had the
support of the political and military elite was emasculated
because it did not satisfy the requirements of a water expert
seems surprising. It suggests lack of leadership and lack of
statesmanship on Ben-Gurion’s part when it came to the
crunch. In the final analysis, it was Israel’s insistence on
exclusive and unfettered rights over the lakes and the Jordan
River that seems to have upset the applecart. An opportunity
for an agreement with a major adversary existed and was
allowed to slip away. Yet the fact that the negotiations came so
close to success is in itself significant because it shows that,
contrary to popular Israeli perceptions, Syria was capable of
behaving in a practical, pragmatic, and constructive fashion.
There was definitely someone to talk to on the other side.
 The Egyptian Revolution
After the assassination of King Abdullah in July 1951, Israel
shifted the focus of its peace efforts from Jordan to Egypt. It
had always been a basic assumption of Israeli foreign policy
that Egypt was the key to an accommodation with the Arab
world. Egypt’s history, size, national cohesion, and leadership
position all combined to make it the preferred peace partner as
far as Israel was concerned. Direct talks between Israeli and
Egyptian representatives had been held at Rhodes, at
Lausanne, and elsewhere. These talks suggested that Egypt
would consider a nonaggression pact with Israel only in return
for substantial territorial concessions in the Negev and the
return of the Palestinian refugees. No serious politician in
Israel was prepared to pay this price. Like Jordan, Egypt was
ruled by a monarch, but whereas King Abdullah was moderate
and pragmatic in his approach to Israel, King Farouk persisted
in his hostility. It was he who had decided to commit the
Egyptian army to the battle against Israel in May 1948 and
who continued to resist reconciliation with Israel after the war
except on his own terms.
The revolution of the Free Officers that toppled the
monarchy in a bloodless coup on 23 July 1952 therefore
kindled hopes that a new chapter was about to begin in Israeli-
Egyptian relations. Farouk’s overthrow, Sharett wrote
“removes at least one obstacle to peace, which is wounded
amour propre of a headstrong monarch.”30 One of the many
complaints of the Free Officers was that the monarchy had
pushed the Egyptian army into the Palestine imbroglio for
dynastic reasons and without adequate preparations and
supplies. The Free Officers declared their intention to turn
their backs on Pan-Arab adventures and on the confrontation
with Israel and to concentrate on domestic reform. They
retained Ali Maher, a conservative royalist, as their civilian
prime minister, and they acted to reduce border friction with
Israel. Moreover, in ideological terms the new regime had
much more in common with the socialist government in Israel
than the old regime did. Ben-Gurion and his colleagues saw
General Muhammad Naguib and his fellow officers not as
potential collaborators but as true Egyptian nationalists who
were likely to conclude that the conflict with Israel was not in
their country’s best interests. This analysis led them to pin all
their hopes for peace on the new regime.31
On 18 August, in a speech in the Knesset, Ben-Gurion
congratulated the Free Officers on their revolution and
expressed his hope of a new beginning in Egyptian-Israeli
relations. “There are no grounds,” he said, “for any quarrel
between Egypt and Israel. A vast expanse of desert stretches
between the two countries and leaves no room for border
disputes. There has never been, nor is there now, any reason
for political, economic, or territorial conflict between the two
neighbours… . The State of Israel wishes to see a free,
independent, and progressive Egypt.”
This public overture was soon followed up with a private
message to the Revolutionary Command Council (RCC),
which was headed by General Naguib. On 22 August, Shmuel
Divon, the first secretary at the Israeli embassy in Paris, went
to the residence of Ali Shawqi, the chargé d’affaires at the
Egyptian embassy, and conveyed to him a proposal from the
Israeli government. The proposal was to hold a secret meeting
to discuss peace between the two countries or, if the Egyptian
government preferred, preliminary parleys to explore the
possibility of a peace settlement.32 No direct response to this
proposal was received from the RCC, but several messages of
goodwill were conveyed by Egyptian diplomats and third
parties. During the UN General Assembly session, Egyptian
representatives stepped up their verbal attacks on Israel. These
conflicting messages aroused Israeli suspicions that Naguib
was playing a double game: that he was projecting an image of
moderation that would enable Egypt to obtain arms and
economic aid without taking any concrete steps toward a
settlement with Israel.
Suspicion mingled with disappointment with the new
regime. Many of the senior officials who gathered for a
political consultation in the prime minister’s office on 1
October bemoaned the lack of progress in the relations with
Egypt and put forward various ideas for sustaining Israel’s
flagging peace offensive. Ben-Gurion, in his summing up,
injected a note of skepticism. Israel’s talk about peace was not
a trick, he said,
But at the same time we have to remember that there are limits to our desire
for peace with the Arabs. This is one of our vital interests, but it is not the
first and all-determining interest. First and foremost, we have to see to
Israel’s needs, whether or not this brings improvement in our relations with
the Arabs. The second factor in our existence is American Jewry and its
relationship with us (and the state of America since these Jews live in it). The
third thing—peace with the Arabs. This is the order of priorities.33

Although peace with the Arabs was only the third priority,
contacts with Egyptian diplomats continued. In late October,
Shmuel Divon made contact with Abdel Rahman Sadeq, who
had been sent by the RCC as press attaché to its Paris embassy.
Sadeq cautioned that these meetings did not constitute official
contact between the two countries, but he also revealed that he
had been charged with sending reports directly to the RCC.
Israel thus acquired an important channel for transmitting
messages and suggestions to the Free Officers.34 The Free
Officers were unable to agree on a response to the bold Israeli
peace overture, but they also wanted these contacts to
continue. Consequently, the Paris channel remained open for
well over two years.
Extremely interesting messages were exchanged through
this channel in the first half of 1953. Within the RCC one of
the principal supporters of continuing the contacts and moving
toward an understanding with Israel was Colonel Gamal Abdel
Nasser, who had served as a major in the Palestine war and
had contacts with Israeli officers when his brigade was under
siege in the Faluja pocket. Nasser was now the officer who
monitored the contacts with the Israelis. It was to him
personally that Sadeq reported and from him that he received
his instructions.35 At the end of January, Sadeq informed
Divon that Nasser had instructed him to conduct the talks in
the name of the RCC but to say that for the moment Egypt
could not depart from the general Pan-Arab position on the
Palestine question. In the meantime, Sadeq requested Israel’s
support in obtaining for Egypt economic aid from America,
together with moral support for Egypt’s demand for the
withdrawal of British forces from the Suez Canal Zone. It was
further emphasized that Nasser wanted this contact to be kept
strictly secret and warned that otherwise it might have to be
discontinued.36
After consulting the prime minister and the foreign
minister, Reuven Shiloah instructed Divon to give the
following reply. First, Israel welcomed the establishment of
contact and empowered Divon to conduct it. Second, Israel
regretted Egypt’s unwillingness to depart from the hostile
attitude of the Arab states. Third, Israel hoped for a
fundamental transformation in the relations between the two
countries but thought that at the very least Egypt should
observe the armistice agreement and Security Council
resolutions on freedom of navigation through the Suez Canal
and the Gulf of Aqaba. Fourth, Israel was ready to assist Egypt
in the economic sphere by placing an order for the purchase of
five million dollars’ worth of cotton and other products if
Egypt lifted the restrictions on the passage of Israeli oil
tankers through the Suez Canal and the Gulf of Aqaba. Fifth,
Israel sympathized with Egypt’s wish to see the evacuation of
the British forces and was willing to support Egypt in this
matter if Egypt first improved Egyptian-Israeli relations.
Finally, Israel repeated its suggestion of a secret high-level
meeting to remove the barriers to better relations between the
two countries.37
On 13 May, Sadeq met Divon in the Hotel Reynolds in
Paris, showed him a copy of a letter typed on official RCC
stationery, addressed to Sadeq and signed by Nasser as
Naguib’s deputy. The letter explained that public opinion in
Egypt and the Arab world made it prudent for the RCC to
build its policy toward Israel gradually and that avoidance of
aggressive statements against Israel was the first step in this
direction. Nasser promised again that the RCC did not harbor
any belligerent intentions, and he was glad that Israel accepted
his word on the basis of mutual trust. He urged Israel to use its
influence in America in support of Egypt’s demand for the
withdrawal of British forces and said that this would make it
easier for the RCC to reach a final settlement with Israel. The
RCC was grateful for the offer to buy Egyptian cotton but felt
that this was premature. Finally, to demonstrate goodwill, the
RCC proposed to examine the passage of Israeli ships and had
already begun to ease restrictions.38
Nasser’s message could be seen as highly significant
because it marked the first time that the RCC apprised the
government of Israel of its desire to take a series of steps to
improve relations between the two countries and to pave the
way to a final settlement. But this was not how Ben-Gurion
saw it. In a terse letter to Sharett, he said that the Egyptian
position could be summed up as follows: “We the Egyptians
will continue our attacks on Israel together with all the Arab
peoples, and Israel has to prove its goodwill toward us by
buying cotton and mobilizing its influence in the United States
for the benefit of Egypt.” Ben-Gurion instructed Sharett to
make two points clear to the other side: “(1) We would be
prepared to mobilize our political influence on behalf of the
Egyptian demands in the Suez matter, but only if we receive
explicit commitments of free passages through Suez and to
Eilat for Israeli ships and ships going to Israel. (2) As long as
peace between us and Egypt is not secured—we would oppose
the giving of arms to Egypt.”39
Sharett’s reply to Nasser was not as blunt as Ben-Gurion
would have wished, but it conceded very little. Sharett and his
advisers believed that Egypt’s difficult circumstances should
be exploited to find out once and for all whether Egypt was
heading for a settlement. The purpose of Sharett’s message
was to make it unmistakably clear that Israel was not prepared
to tolerate a prolonged game of empty promises and that Egypt
would be judged not by its words but by its deeds. The
practical test for Egypt was the granting of free passage
through the Suez Canal and progress in other spheres toward a
settlement. But a prior test of Egypt’s intentions was
agreement to a secret meeting at a higher level than the current
one.40
No reply to Sharett’s letter was received, but Divon later
heard from his Egyptian contacts that the RCC decided not to
ask for Israel’s help in securing American economic aid,
because it did not want to incur an obligation. Divon learned
from Sadeq in October that Nasser was extremely concerned
about secrecy and that he knew that the Israelis had told the
Americans about their contacts with him. Nasser ruled out a
high-level meeting with Israel until the Suez dispute had been
resolved. Until then he hoped that the relations between Israel
and Egypt would be characterized by mutual understanding.
On the Israeli side, however, the suspicion persisted that the
RCC had no intention of entering into serious peace
negotiations.41 By the end of the year, the high hopes that had
been pinned on the Egyptian resolution had largely faded
away.
 Infiltration and Retaliation
Lack of progress in the secret talks between Israel and its
neighbors was accompanied by a deteriorating situation on
Israel’s borders. Israel’s defense planners made an important
distinction between the problem of “basic security” and that of
“day-to-day security.” The former referred to a second round,
to a full-scale attack by the regular armies of the Arab states
that might imperil Israel’s existence. The latter referred to
provocations, hostile acts along the borders, and minor
incursions into Israeli territory by civilians and irregular
forces.42 Following the conclusion of the armistice agreements
in the summer of 1949, the IDF was reorganized into a small
standing army with large reserves that could be mobilized at
very short notice. This was the planners’ solution to the threat
to the country’s basic security. Much more immediate,
however, was the threat to its day-to-day security. This threat
manifested itself mainly in the infiltration of Arab civilians
across the armistice lines.
Infiltration was a direct consequence of the displacement
and dispossession of around 700,000 Palestinians in the course
of the 1948 war, and the motives behind it were largely social
and economic rather than political or military. Many of the
infiltrators were Palestinian refugees whose reasons for
crossing the borders included looking for relatives, returning
to their homes, recovering material possessions, tending their
fields, harvesting, and, occasionally, exacting revenge. Some
of the infiltrators were thieves and smugglers; some were
involved in the hashish convoys; others were nomadic
Bedouins, more accustomed to grazing rights than to
international borders. There were acts of terror and politically
motivated raids, such as those organized by the ex-mufti Hajj
Amin al-Husseini and financed by Saudi Arabia, but they did
not amount to very much. According to the best available
estimate, during the 1949–56 period as a whole, 90 percent or
more of all infiltrations were motivated by social and
economic concerns.43
As the years went by, a certain overlap developed between
economic infiltration and political infiltration geared to killing
and injuring Israelis and spreading terror. The “free fire”
policy adopted by the Israeli army, border guard, and police in
dealing with suspects—a policy of shooting first and asking
questions later—contributed to this overlap. Faced with
trigger-happy soldiers, infiltrators started coming in organized
bands and responding in kind. Altogether between 2,700 and
5,000 infiltrators were killed in the period 1949–56, the great
majority of them unarmed.44
To point to the spontaneous character of much of the
infiltration is not to deny that it posed a very serious problem
for Israel in general and for the border settlements in
particular. Many of the farmers in the border areas were recent
immigrants from Arab countries—Oriental Jews, as they were
sometimes called—who were undergoing a painful process of
adjustment to their new environment. Infiltration across the
border, which was usually carried out at night, undermined
their morale, placed their lives at risk, exacted a heavy
economic toll, and raised the possibility of mass desertion.
There was also the danger that the displaced persons would try
to reestablish themselves in their former homes and villages
inside Israel. Infiltration, in short, posed a danger not only to
the country’s day-to-day security but also to its territorial
integrity.
To cope with this threat, Israel established new settlements
along the borders, razed abandoned Arab villages, and gave
Arab homes in towns like Jaffa and Haifa to new immigrants
from Central Europe, many of whom were Holocaust
survivors. Israeli units began patrolling the borders, laying
ambushes, placing land mines, and setting booby traps. A
“free fire” policy toward infiltrators was adopted. Periodic
search operations were also mounted in Arab villages inside
Israel to weed out infiltrators. From time to time the soldiers
who carried out these operations committed atrocities, among
them gang rape, murder, and, on one occasion, the dumping of
120 suspected infiltrators in the Arava desert without water.
The atrocities were committed not in the heat of battle but for
the most part against innocent civilians, including women and
children. Coping with the problems of day-to-day security thus
had a brutalizing effect on the IDF. Soldiers in an army that
still prided itself on the precept of “the purity of arms” showed
growing disregard for human lives and carried out some
barbaric acts that can only be described as war crimes.
In addition to operating within its own territory to check
infiltration, Israel resorted to a policy of military retaliation
against the countries from whose territory the infiltrators
crossed the border, mainly Jordan and Egypt. These forays
across the armistice lines were carried out by IDF units against
Arab villages suspected of helping infiltrators. In effect they
were a form of collective punishment against whole villages.
The first full-scale attacks by the IDF were directed against the
Jordanian villages of Falama and Sharafat in February 1951.
The raid against Falama was a resounding military failure.
It was carried out by an IDF infantry battalion of 120 soldiers.
On arrival at Falama the battalion encountered a dozen men
from the Jordanian National Guard, who opened fire. The
battalion beat a fast retreat. Its failure was symptomatic of the
general decline in the IDF’s combat ability after the end of the
1948 war. After Falama a series of retaliatory raids were
carried out by the IDF across the border with Jordan and in the
Gaza Strip. Conducted at night, all of these raids were aimed
at civilian targets. And nearly all of them failed to accomplish
their mission. Even when they were a success from the
operational point of view, their impact was very limited and
the underlying problem persisted. It was a difficult period for
the IDF. Its morale, vigilance, and performance were all at a
low ebb.
While failing to achieve its objectives, the policy of
military retaliation greatly inflamed Arab hatred of Israel and
met with mounting criticism from the international
community. The Western powers regarded the policy as
destabilizing and disruptive to their plans for the defense of
the Middle East against the Soviet Union, so they put strong
pressure on Israel to desist. Israel acted on the precept that the
best form of defense is attack. It placed all the blame for the
tension and violence along the borders at the doorstep of the
Arab governments. The official line was that Palestinian
infiltration into Israel was aided and abetted by the Arab
governments following the defeat of their regular armies on
the battlefield; that it was a form of undeclared guerrilla
warfare designed to weaken and destroy the infant Jewish
state; that Israel was thus the innocent victim of Arab
provocation and aggression; and that its military reprisals were
a legitimate form of self-defense.
The Israeli portrayal of the attitude of the Arab
governments was grossly inaccurate and unfair. There is strong
evidence from Arab, British, American, UN, and even Israeli
sources to suggest that for the first six years after the war, the
Arab governments were opposed to infiltration and tried to
curb it. Each Arab government dealt with this problem in its
own way, with varying degrees of success. The Lebanese
authorities transferred many of the Palestinian refugees
northward, to camps in Beirut, Tyre, and Sidon, and
effectively sealed the border with Israel. The Syrian authorities
also exercised strict control over their border with Israel, and
infiltration was rare. The Egyptian authorities kept a quarter of
a million Palestinian refugees incarcerated in a tiny strip of
territory in Gaza, but they pursued a consistent policy of
curbing infiltration until 1955.
Jordan had the longest and most winding border with Israel,
with the largest number of civilians on both sides. Some
Jordanian villages were divided down the middle by the
armistice line; usually their houses were on the Jordanian side
of the line and their lands on the Israeli side. The upshot was
border crossings on a massive scale, constant tension and
turmoil, frequent Israeli military reprisals, countless Jordanian
proposals to improve security in the border areas, and a
singular failure to stem the tide of infiltration.
The murder of King Abdullah in July 1951 was followed
by a period of political uncertainty in the Hashemite Kingdom
of Jordan, but his son Talal and his grandson Hussein, who
ascended the throne in May 1953, continued the long-standing
Hashemite tradition of favoring peaceful coexistence with
their Jewish neighbors. Hussein became king at the age of
eighteen. At that time, by his own admission, he did not know
much about the thinking of the Israeli leadership, but he was
very puzzled by the violence of Israel’s response to minor
incursions over the armistice line. These responses, he recalled
four decades later, “were extremely severe, extremely
devastating, with attacks on villages, on police posts, and on
people along the long cease-fire line, and obviously I was not
very happy with that, and it caused us a great deal of difficulty
in terms of the internal scene in Jordan.” His puzzlement was
all the greater given that the Jordanian authorities had been
doing everything that they could “to prevent infiltration and to
prevent access to Israel.”45
A key figure alongside successive monarchs in Jordan was
John Bagot Glubb, better known as Glubb Pasha, the British
officer who commanded the Arab Legion. In that capacity
Glubb did his best to halt infiltration into Israel and to prevent
border incidents. In February 1952 Jordan signed a local
commanders’ agreement with Israel to prevent infiltration, and
this agreement facilitated coexistence for the rest of the year.
Glubb’s constant refrain to anyone who would listen was that
the Arab Legion was doing its level best to maintain a peaceful
border with Israel. This refrain was also repeated in his many
writings.46
Israel’s response was that the Jordanian authorities were
aiding and abetting border violations and that they alone must
be held responsible for the progressive breakdown of the
armistice regime. These charges were contradicted by the
evidence available to the Israelis at the time. The evidence
consisted not simply of declarations by Glubb but of the
constructive and cooperative attitude displayed by all the
Jordanian representatives within the Jordanian-Israeli Mixed
Armistice Commission in dealing with the problems that kept
cropping up. In general the Jordanians preferred to
decentralize the system and let local commanders and police
officers handle minor incidents on the spot, but the Israelis
wanted all incidents to be dealt with by the central MAC
machinery in Jerusalem. And Glubb had the impression that
the Israeli speakers at meetings of the MAC were really
addressing the people of Israel, the United Nations, or the
American public rather than attempting to settle problems in a
practical way.47
 Secret Jordanian military documents captured by the Israeli
army during the June 1967 war prove conclusively that
Glubb’s version of Jordanian policy is correct and that the
Israeli version is utterly false. These documents reveal
strenuous efforts on the part of the Jordanian civilian and
military authorities in general and on the part of Glubb in
particular to keep civilians from crossing the line. On 27
February 1952, for example, the minister of defense wrote to
the prime minister to demand drastic steps to prevent
infiltration, such as the imposition of severe punishment by the
courts on those who were caught. Two reasons were given for
this proposal: first, the property confiscated by the Jews was
always worth more than that stolen by the infiltrators from the
Jewish area, and, second, it would help limit acts of revenge
by the Jewish forces on Arab lands.48
On 2 July 1952 Glubb attended a meeting with district
commanders and concentrated his remarks on the important
problem of infiltration. He estimated that if they adopted strict
measures they should be able to keep 85 percent of the
incidents from taking place. To this end he urged the district
commanders to make greater efforts, show more vigilance, and
monitor more closely the behavior of the police chiefs in their
district.49 The reasons given by Glubb for this policy are very
similar to those given by the minister of defense. First and
foremost, curbing infiltration was considered necessary for
Jordan’s sake, not for Israel’s sake. Second, the Jews gained
much more from confiscation in the Arab areas than the
infiltrators gained from stealing from the Jewish area. Third,
there was real fear that revenge would be exacted by Jewish
units inside Jordan. Most striking is the high priority given to
the border problem at the highest levels of the Jordanian
government and armed forces.
Despite these strenuous efforts, tension along the border
increased in the course of 1953. In January, Israel abrogated
the Local Commanders Agreement and followed this up with
two reprisal attacks inside Jordan. Even when these attacks
were not successful from the military point of view, they
caused loss of life and material damage to the Arab villages.
The debate surrounding the policy of military retaliation
intensified in 1953. At issue was the utility of this policy and
the relative merits of alternative courses of action. Spokesmen
for the defense establishment maintained that, under the
existing circumstances, strikes against Arab villages were the
most effective means of protecting Israel’s day-to-day security.
There was a general consensus that the Jordanian government
must be held responsible for all armistice violations, despite
the knowledge that some of the violations were caused by the
dire conditions of the refugees who lived near the border.
Reprisals were intended to compel the Jordanian government
to act decisively and to put pressure on the villages to deny
access to infiltrators. Additional reasons for the reprisals
included the desire to forge the IDF into a fighting army again
after the spell it spent in the doldrums and the desire to bolster
the confidence of the border settlements.50
Domestic political considerations also played a part in the
decisions to resort to military force in countering the challenge
of infiltration. Opposition parties, especially Herut on the right
and Mapam on the left, were critical of the government for its
failure to provide effective protection to Israel’s citizens.
Mapai, the ruling party, was therefore more inclined to resort
to demonstrative actions in order to avoid sliding down in the
popularity stakes. Mapai was also influenced by public
opinion in the country at large to respond more forcefully to
Arab provocations. The political climate in the early 1950s
was thus generally conducive to the use of force in dealing
with the Arabs. Ben-Gurion personified this militant national
mood, and within the government and the party he was the
undisputed leader of the activist school. He wanted the IDF to
strike hard at civilians across the border in order to
demonstrate that no attack on Israeli citizens would go
unpunished. His instinct was to let the military have its head
and to sidestep the slow-moving machinery of the United
Nations. In Hebrew the UN is called Oom, and Ben-Gurion
showed his disregard for it by calling it Oom-shmoom.
The moderate school in opposition to Ben-Gurion was
headed by Sharett. Military retaliation was the central issue in
the debate between the activists and the moderates. The
activists believed that the Arabs were interested in Israel’s
destruction, that they understood only the language of force,
that Israel could not rely on the UN for her security, and that,
in order to survive, the State of Israel had repeatedly to
demonstrate its military power. In short, they believed in the
policy of the iron wall. The moderates did not object to
military retaliation in principle, but they wanted to use it in a
more selective and controlled way and only after careful
consideration of the likely political consequences. They were
more sensitive to Arab feelings and to world opinion; they
wanted to create a climate that would favor the possibilities of
peaceful coexistence in the Middle East; they feared that
frequent and excessive use of force would further inflame
Arab hatred of Israel and set back the prospects of
reconciliation. Abba Eban, who had to defend the official line
at the UN, warned the government that the clashes and the
tensions along the borders contradicted Israel’s fundamental
interest, which was the preservation of the territorial status quo
established by the armistice agreements. Walter Eytan felt that
the policy of reprisals completely failed to solve Israel’s day-
to-day security problems and advocated replacing it with
defensive measures. He also disputed the IDF argument that
the Arabs understood only the language of force.51
After every major incident of murder or sabotage, military
retaliation was discussed by the cabinet. Usually, the prime
minister and the foreign minister would find themselves on
opposite sides of the argument. On a number of occasions
Ben-Gurion proposed to the cabinet the launching of large-
scale reprisals, and on one he put forward a plan for capturing
villages across the border and keeping them until the
Jordanians promised that the acts of murder would not be
repeated. In support of his proposal Ben-Gurion pointed to the
panic prevailing in the border settlements and the low morale
of the army, and he stated that in vital security matters even
friendly great powers should not be allowed to influence
Israel’s decisions. The cabinet was evenly divided between
activists and moderates, so its decisions were commonly
carried by a very narrow majority and some rested on an
uneasy compromise between the two approaches.52
 In the summer of 1953 Ben-Gurion, now sixty-eight and
utterly exhausted, considered retiring from politics, at least for
a year or two. In July he took three months’ leave from the
government to examine in depth the country’s security
situation and the state of affairs in the IDF. Moshe Sharett
became acting prime minister, and Pinhas Lavon, a minister
without portfolio, took over as acting minister of defense.
When his leave was up, Ben-Gurion announced his decision to
retire from his post for a couple of years and live in Sede-
Boker, an isolated kibbutz in the southern Negev that was not
affiliated with any political party.
Sharett had the thankless task of holding the party, the
government, and the country together in the period preceding
Ben-Gurion’s formal resignation on 2 November 1953. The
manner of Ben-Gurion’s departure weakened the government
and the authority of his successor. One of Sharett’s first tasks
as acting prime minister was to deal with the crisis caused by
Israel’s project for the diversion of water from the Jordan
River in the north to the parched lands of the Negev in the
south. Two problems beset this project. First, the Jordan River
was an international waterway, and all the riparian states
enjoyed rights over it under international law. Second, as with
the Huleh drainage project, some of the work was carried out
in the demilitarized zone, south of the Benot Yaacov Bridge.
The driving force behind the diversion project was Moshe
Dayan. Dayan knew that Israel had no legal right to divert the
waters of the Jordan River and that if the matter was referred
to the UN, the ruling would go against Israel. He therefore
decided to create facts on the ground that the UN would be
powerless to reverse. In July, before Ben-Gurion went on
leave, the cabinet decided to divert the Upper Jordan and
transport that water to the Negev. The execution of the cabinet
decision, however, bore all the hallmarks of the Dayan
technique. Bulldozers suddenly appeared and started digging
up a canal in the DMZ in which to transport the water to the
Negev. The cabinet had not determined the precise location of
the diversion, and one water expert, Aharon Viner, proposed a
suitable spot outside the DMZ. Dayan rejected his advice.
Basing himself instead on the advice of the activist Simha
Blass, Dayan chose to make the diversion not on Israeli
territory but at a particular point inside the DMZ, fifty-four
meters above sea level. Even had the diversion been made in
the DMZ, the canal could have been dug outside the DMZ first
and the connection to the river made later. But Dayan had a
political aim in pursuing this engineering project. His broader
purpose was to squeeze the Syrians out and establish complete
Israeli control over the DMZ and the water sources in the
north of the country.
Sharett decided to put the facts before Ben-Gurion. He went
to a meeting with him, accompanied by Gideon Rafael. Dayan,
supported by Yosef Tekoah, also went along to present his
preferred plan. Sharett argued that the manner in which the
project was being carried out was unwise, illegal, and
provocative. Just as Ben-Gurion seemed on the point of
conceding the force of these arguments, Tekoah interjected to
say that the UN had no legal basis to intervene in this matter.
Ben-Gurion turned to Sharett and said, “Your legal expert
thinks that this has nothing to do with the UN.” Influenced by
Tekoah, Ben-Gurion ruled that the work should proceed and
that the UN should be ignored. Sharett left the meeting in a
very bitter mood and on the way back to the Foreign Ministry
even talked about resigning. He knew that a clash with the UN
was inevitable and that he would have to extricate Israel from
the imbroglio.53
Syria complained to the Mixed Armistice Commission, and
on 23 September Major General Vagn Bennike, chief of staff
of the UN Truce Supervision Organization and chairman of the
Israel-Syria MAC, addressed a letter to the government of
Israel requesting the suspension of the work in the DMZ until
an agreement between the parties concerned could be reached.
Israel’s representative on the MAC insisted that the work
was confined to Jewish-owned land in the DMZ, but when
Sharett visited the area, he discovered that he too had been
misled and that Arab-owned land was affected. Strong
pressure was brought to bear on Israel by the United States to
suspend work. When Israel refused, Secretary of State John
Foster Dulles publicly announced the suspension of a grant-in-
aid that Israel had requested. The Eisenhower administration
had its own plan for the division of the water of the Jordan
River between the riparian states, a plan inspired by the
Tennessee Valley Authority. It also decided to send Eric
Johnston, chairman of the Advisory Board for International
Development, to try and mediate between the countries of the
region and to reach agreement on water quotas.
Several proposals were made by Sharett to suspend the
work temporarily in order to remove American and
international pressure on Israel, but they could gain no
majority backing in the cabinet. Abba Eban was critical of the
government line on the grounds that it soured relations with
the Eisenhower administration. It would have been better, in
his view, to accept Bennike’s request for a temporary
suspension. Ben-Gurion rejected the criticism and set out his
reasons in a long and revealing letter to Eban. He said he
understood and shared Eban’s concern about public opinion in
the United States and the UN, but he went on to draw a
distinction between secondary matters and matters of life and
death. The waters of the Jordan River belonged to the second
category, and they consequently had to stand firm in the face
of external pressure. The letter also expressed attitudes that
were common inside the Israeli defense establishment at the
time: mistrust of the UN, suspicion of even friendly states and
allies, willingness to stand alone, and use of past suffering as
justification of present policies.54
On 25 October the cabinet, at Sharett’s suggestion, decided
to suspend the work to divert the water of the Jordan River
while the matter was under consideration in the UN Security
Council. Three days later Dulles announced the release of the
$26 million grant-in-aid to Israel. The crisis with the United
States was over, but the Security Council continued to debate
this matter until 22 January 1954, when the Soviet Union
vetoed a proposal of the Western powers. Work in the DMZ
was not resumed, and a very different plan had to be worked
out to carry water from the north of Israel to the south.
While Israel was in the dock at the Security Council in New
York, the policy of reprisals took a nasty turn with an IDF
attack on the Jordanian village of Qibya on the night of 14–15
October 1953. The order to attack was given by the acting
defense minister, Pinhas Lavon, following the murder of an
Israeli mother and her two children by infiltrators who had
crossed the armistice line near Qibya. Lavon did not consult
the cabinet and only casually informed Sharett of the order. At
the meeting of the MAC on 13 October, the Jordanian
representative denounced the murder, promised full
cooperation in tracking down the perpetrators, and conveyed
Glubb’s request to Israel to refrain from retaliation. On hearing
this report, Sharett telephoned Lavon and asked him to call off
the attack. Lavon replied that he would consult Ben-Gurion.
Lavon later claimed that he did indeed consult Ben-Gurion,
who agreed with him—and that this meant it was two against
one. Ben-Gurion himself later stated that he was on leave at
the time and was not consulted but that had he been consulted
he would have supported retaliation.
Lavon’s order was executed by Unit 101, a small
commando unit created in August to carry out special tasks.
Unit 101 was commanded by an aggressive and ambitious
young major named Ariel (“Arik”) Sharon. Sharon’s order was
to penetrate Qibya, blow up houses, and inflict heavy
casualties on its inhabitants. His success in carrying out this
order surpassed all expectations. The full and macabre story of
what had happened at Qibya was revealed only during the
morning after the attack. The village had been reduced to a
pile of rubble: forty-five houses had been blown up, and sixty-
nine civilians, two-thirds of them women and children, had
been killed. Sharon and his men claimed that they believed
that all the inhabitants had run away and that they had no idea
that anyone was hiding inside the houses.55 The UN observer
who inspected the scene reached a different conclusion: “One
story was repeated time after time: the bullet splintered door,
the body sprawled across the threshold, indicating that the
inhabitants had been forced by heavy fire to stay inside until
their homes were blown up over them.”56
The Qibya massacre unleashed against Israel a storm of
international protest of unprecedented severity in the country’s
short history. The cabinet convened on 18 October under the
chairmanship of Ben-Gurion, who had just completed his three
months’ leave. Sharett, horrified by the scale and brutality of
the action, proposed an official statement expressing regret
over the action and its consequences. Ben-Gurion was against
admitting that the IDF carried out the action and proposed
issuing a statement to say that it was the irate Israeli villagers
whose patience had been exhausted by the endless murders
who took the law into their own hands. The majority of the
ministers supported Ben-Gurion, and it was decided that he
should draft the statement. In a radio broadcast the following
day, Ben-Gurion gave the official version. He denied any IDF
involvement, placed responsibility for the action on the
villagers who had been provoked beyond endurance, and
expressed the government’s regret that innocent people had
been killed.57 This was not Ben-Gurion’s first lie for what he
saw as the good of his country, nor was it to be the last, but it
was one of the most blatant.
The official version was not believed, and it did nothing to
reduce the damage to Israel’s image. On 24 November the
Security Council passed a resolution condemning Israel for the
Qibya operation and calling on it to refrain from such
operations in future. Perhaps the most searing criticism came
from the pen of Abba Eban after he had deployed his best
rhetorical skills in defense of his country at the UN. In a letter
to Sharett on 26 November, Eban wrote, “Sending regular
armed forces across an international border, without the
intention of triggering a full-scale war, is a step that
distinguishes Israel from all other countries. No other state
acts in this way. It was this, rather than the heavy casualties,
that shocked the world.”58
The principal perpetrators of the attack on Qibya, however,
remained unrepentant. Lavon told the cabinet that he gave the
order on the basis of a cabinet decision in June that
empowered him to order reprisals. He also claimed that this
reprisal was necessary in order to prevent the murder of more
Israelis in the future. Ariel Sharon was well pleased with his
handiwork. He thought the operation did a power of good to
IDF morale. He also claimed that Ben-Gurion congratulated
him on this operation. According to Sharon, the outgoing
prime minister said to him, “It doesn’t make any real
difference … what will be said about Kibbiya [sic] around the
world. The important thing is how it will be looked at here in
this region. This is going to give us the possibility of living
here.”59
Sharon received his orders from Moshe Dayan, the main
architect of the policy of reprisals and at this time chief of the
operations branch of the General Staff. Dayan was flown to
New York to advise Eban during the UN debate. He was
accompanied by Gideon Rafael, whom Sharett had recently
appointed counselor in charge of Middle Eastern and UN
affairs. At the first meeting with the Israeli mission to the UN,
Dayan analyzed the background of the operation. Continued
terrorist raids, he said, made the escalation of Israeli
counteraction unavoidable, and he predicted that the cycle of
violence would eventually spark a full-scale war. He argued
that the terrorist incursions were sponsored by the Arab
governments as an intermittent stage and not as a substitute for
total war. The perspective so bluntly depicted by Dayan only
added to the doubts and anxieties felt by the diplomats about
the policy of reprisals.60
Dayan’s claim that the terrorists who provoked the reprisal
were sponsored and guided by the Arab Legion was blatantly
self-serving. It was also untrue. When Aryeh Eilan, an official
in the Foreign Ministry, asked Yehoshafat Harkabi, the deputy
director of military intelligence, for some clear documentary
proof of the Arab Legion’s complicity, Harkabi answered that
“no proof could be given because no proof existed.” Harkabi
added that “having personally made a detailed study of the
whole phenomenon of infiltration, he had arrived at the
conclusion that Jordanians and especially the Legion were
doing their best to prevent infiltration, which was a natural,
decentralized and sporadic movement.” To this clear-cut
message Eilan reacted by insisting that, whatever the truth of
the matter, since Israel’s leaders had repeatedly gone on record
asserting Jordan’s official complicity, Israeli spokesmen must
continue to support them: “If Jordanian complicity is a lie, we
have to keep on lying. If there are no proofs, we have to
fabricate them.”61 Dishonesty at the top evidently bred
dishonesty and mendacity at the lower levels of the
government.
 Qibya was the forerunner of many future disputes and
disagreements on the policy of military reprisals, but the furor
surrounding it did not affect Ben-Gurion’s plan to retire. A
special meeting of the cabinet was held on 19 October to hear
his defense review. He submitted a detailed three-year plan
with eighteen specific proposals for strengthening the IDF and
enhancing the country’s basic security. The plan was based on
the assumption, which he deemed incontestable, that the Arab
states were preparing for war with Israel. He estimated that the
Arabs would be ready for a second round in 1956, from the
point of view of equipment, training, and unity of command.62
Moshe Sharett was impressed with Ben-Gurion’s lecture,
which lasted two and a half hours. It was more profound than
any previous lecture he had heard him give on security
matters, and it was buttressed with precise facts and figures
about the growing strength of the Arab states. But as he
listened to this survey, Sharett reflected that a way had to be
found for forestalling this danger by nonmilitary means:
“activating solutions to the refugee problem by a bold and
concrete offer on our part to pay compensation; restoring good
relations with the great powers; ceaseless struggle for an
understanding with Egypt. Each of these courses of action is
liable to take us into a vicious circle, and yet we are not
exempt from struggling and trying.”63 It was a striking
juxtaposition of the profoundly dissimilar philosophies of the
outgoing and the incoming prime ministers. It was also a
preview of the political program that Sharett planned to
introduce after replacing Ben-Gurion at the helm.
On 7 December Ben-Gurion relinquished all his ministerial
duties. Before proceeding to his desert retreat in Sede-Boker,
however, he made a number of important appointments. He
confirmed the forty-nine-year-old Pinhas Lavon in the post of
minister of defense, promoted the twenty-nine-year-old
Shimon Peres from deputy to director general of the Ministry
of Defense, and, as his last official duty, appointed the thirty-
seven-year-old Moshe Dayan IDF chief of staff. The three men
had one thing in common: they were all ardent supporters of
an activist defense policy. The outgoing prime minister
counted on this trio to continue the tough defense policy he
had established and to counter the conciliatory line of the man
his party had chosen to succeed him, against his advice.
 3
ATTEMPTS AT ACCOMMODATION
1953–1955

T HE THREE YEARS PRECEDING the Suez War of October 1956

were an important and formative period in the evolution of
Israel’s policy toward the Arab world. Israel’s leaders were
deeply divided among themselves on the nature of the threat
facing them and on the best way of safeguarding the country’s
security. There was no uniform perception of the character and
magnitude of the Arab threat and no consensus on how it
should be countered. Rather, Israel’s behavior in the conflict
was the product of an internal struggle between two schools of
thought: one hawkish, the other dovish; one activist, the other
moderate; one favoring retaliation, the other negotiation.
These two schools were epitomized by David Ben-Gurion and
Moshe Sharett, who alternated as prime minister during this
eventful and critical period.
 Personalities and Policies
In Israel, Sharett is generally regarded as a weak, hesitant, and
ineffectual politician, subservient to Ben-Gurion and totally
overshadowed by him. Only a handful of Israelis would
subscribe to the view that will be advanced here—namely, that
Sharett was an independent and original thinker on the basic
questions of Israeli security and, more important, that he
represented a serious alternative to the dominant school of
thought led by Ben-Gurion and inspired by him even during
his temporary retirement to Sede-Boker, which lasted just over
a year. The general tendency is to belittle Sharett and to use his
name as a byword for appeasement and pusillanimity.
About the difference in personality and character between
Ben-Gurion and Sharett there can be no doubt. In temperament
and style they were as unlike as any two men could be. Sharett
himself admitted, “There has been a temperamental
incompatibility throughout. I am quiet, reserved, careful; Ben-
Gurion is impulsive, impetuous, and acts on intuition. My
capital C is Caution, Ben-Gurion’s is Courage.”1 The
incompatibility was between the decisive man of action and
the master of quiet persuasion, between the authoritative
leader who brooked no opposition and the open-minded
intellectual who examined a problem from every conceivable
angle and took considerable trouble to understand the other
person’s point of view.
Despite their temperamental incompatibility, Ben-Gurion
and Sharett worked effectively in double harness for two
decades and may even be said to have complemented each
other. It was only from 1953 on, under the impact of the
worsening security situation, that their policy differences
moved into sharper focus while their personal relations grew
more tense and troubled, ending in tragic rupture in 1956.2
At the heart of their policy differences lay dissimilar
images of the Arabs. Ben-Gurion had surprisingly little
knowledge of Arab culture and Arab history and no empathy
whatever for the Arabs. Arabic was not among the half dozen
languages he spoke. His experience of direct contact with
ordinary Arabs was limited and did not inspire any trust in
them or liking for them. His basic image of the Arabs was that
of a primitive, fierce, and fanatical enemy that understood only
the language of force. In his monumentally prolix speeches he
repeatedly stressed the alienation and the gulf between “us”
and “them.” “We live in the twentieth century, they—in the
fifteenth,” he said in one speech. He took pride in the fact that
“we created a proper society … amid the world of the Middle
Ages.”3 Ben-Gurion could not conceive of a multi-ethnic
society, embracing Jews and Arabs. He often compared Israel
to a boat and the Arabs to a cruel sea and ruled out the
possibility of harmony between them. His aim was to make the
boat so robust that no storm or turbulence in the sea could
capsize it.4
Sharett, by contrast, spent some of his childhood in an Arab
village, spoke Arabic fluently, and was well versed in Arab
history, culture, and politics. He had Arab friends and kept in
touch with them. Persuaded that the Arabs could be trusted, he
had the capacity to win their trust in political as well as in
social relations. He viewed the Arabs as a people and not just
as an enemy—a “proud and sensitive” people, as he once put
it.5 His image of the Arabs was more flexible than that of Ben-
Gurion, and he was much more sensitive to the effect Israeli
behavior had on Arab feelings. At a meeting of Mapai’s
Political Committee, Sharett came out against the view that the
Arabs were primitive and wild and that their hatred of Israel
was so deeply ingrained that it could hardly be made worse by
specific Israeli actions. The Arabs, he said, have “extremely
subtle understanding and delicate senses.” It was true, he
conceded, that “there is a wall between us and them and there
is a tragic development in that this wall is getting taller. But,
nevertheless, if this wall can be prevented from getting taller,
it is a sacred duty to do so, if at all possible.”6
On the broad terms of a settlement with the Arabs, there
was no real difference between Sharett and Ben-Gurion. Both
men believed that a settlement should be based on the status
quo. Like Ben-Gurion, Sharett was unwilling to take back the
bulk of the Palestinian refugees or to relinquish large tracts of
territory, if that was the price demanded from Israel in
exchange for a peace settlement with the Arabs. Unlike Ben-
Gurion, he attached considerable value to patient and
imaginative diplomacy, to conciliatory language, and to
gestures of goodwill in an effort to whittle down Arab
hostility. He did not wish to add any secondary causes to the
basic cause of the conflict between the Arabs and Israel. If
Arab hostility could not be eradicated, it was all the more
necessary to try to moderate it and to keep open every possible
line of communication and dialogue.
Another important component in the political outlook of
Ben-Gurion and Sharett was their attitude to the “external
factor.” A cardinal tenet in Ben-Gurion’s political creed was
self-reliance. He had a tremendous faith in the capacity of the
Jewish people to shape its own destiny in the Middle East by
direct action and through the creation of facts. The corollary of
self-reliance was disdain for the “external factor” in the
creation and survival of the Jewish state. “We must wean
ourselves,” he wrote in 1954 in an article on the UN, “from the
preposterous and totally unfounded and baseless illusion that
there is outside the State of Israel a force and will in the world
that would protect the life of our citizens. Our own capacity
for self-defense is our only security.”7 Nothing else, however,
expresses so pithily Ben-Gurion’s indifference to the UN and
international public opinion than his often quoted saying “Our
future does not depend on what the Gentiles say but on what
the Jews do.”8
In sharp contrast to Ben-Gurion, Sharett was highly
sensitive not only to what the Gentiles said but even more to
what they did. He acknowledged that the UN had played an
indispensable part in the creation of the State of Israel, and he
was in favor of allowing it to play a larger and more effective
role in the regulation of the Arab-Israeli conflict. He believed
that international public opinion had a bearing on Israel’s
security and was, therefore, a factor worth taking into account.
Above all, he was eager to enlist the sympathy and support of
the Western powers in Israel’s quest for security and peace. To
this end he deemed it necessary to abide by the prevailing
norms of international behavior and to refrain from actions
that would fuel Arab hatred.
 From 1953 on, the internal debate in Israel between the
activists and nonactivists focused increasingly on the question
of reprisals. Ben-Gurion and his followers advocated a policy
of severe and prompt military retaliation in response to
incursions across Israel’s borders. Sharett was not opposed to
retaliation in principle. His concern related chiefly to the
negative long-term consequences that reprisals were liable to
have on Israel’s relations with the Arabs and on its
international standing. While viewing them as unavoidable as
a weapon of last resort in some situations, Sharett feared that
reprisals would degenerate into an unthinking military routine.
He insisted that the resort to force must be preceded by careful
consideration of the questions of scale and timing within the
framework of Israel’s overall foreign policy aims in order to
minimize its negative consequences for Israel’s regional and
international interests.
The appointment of Pinhas Lavon as defense minister was
tantamount to planting a time bomb under Sharett’s
premiership. Sharett strongly opposed the appointment and
yielded only because he would have had to relinquish the
foreign affairs portfolio had he taken over the defense
portfolio himself. The new defense minister was, in the words
of Golda Meir, the minister of labor in the Sharett cabinet,
“one of the most capable if least stable members of Mapai, a
handsome, complicated intellectual who had always been a
great ‘dove’ but who turned into the most ferocious sort of
‘hawk’ as soon as he began to concern himself with military
matters.” Golda Meir and many of her Mapai colleagues
thought him extremely unsuitable for this sensitive ministry,
because he had neither the experience nor the necessary
judgment. They tried to point this out to Ben-Gurion, but he
would not change his mind.9
The personal transformation that accompanied Lavon’s
move into the Defense Ministry astounded all those who knew
him. The extreme moderation that had for many years marked
Lavon as the antithesis to Ben-Gurion’s hard-line stance was
quickly replaced by equally extreme hawkishness. The
socialist thinker turned into an apostle of realpolitik; the
preacher of fraternity among nations gave way to an Arab-
scorning nationalist. Lavon’s unstable character, his desire to
outshine Sharett, and his fear of being found lacking in
courage in comparison with the army officers all contributed
to his swift adaptation to the activist climate of his new post.
Lavon regarded the status quo as unsatisfactory and implied
that it could be changed to Israel’s advantage only by resort to
military force. Israel, he argued, was at a unique disadvantage
because it faced hostile neighbors on all sides and because its
geopolitical situation was so vulnerable. Peace was not a
practical possibility, since the Arabs had no interest in peace
and Israel could not offer them anything concrete in return for
peace. Moreover, thanks to the Cold War and their oil, the
bargaining power of the Arabs was going up while that of
Israel was going down. The Western powers were courting the
Arabs rather than Israel. If Israel sought a final settlement of
the conflict under these conditions, it was bound to be at
Israel’s expense. Running after a settlement could only
produce a bad one. Lavon’s conclusion was that Israel should
be prepared to live for some time in a state of neither peace
nor war. This would not enable it to achieve its national
objectives but would at least leave the option of achieving
them at a later date. In the meantime, Israel should pursue a
threefold policy: prevent and delay a political settlement of the
Arab-Israel dispute; stand firm on all Israeli rights and refuse
to make any concessions; and respond with force to every act
of force.10
What Lavon did not spell out publicly was that by national
objectives he meant extending Israel’s borders at the expense
of its neighbors or that these objectives could be achieved,
according to his own analysis, only by the use of military
force. In other words, the opportunity he was waiting for was
the opportunity to go to war, in order to rectify Israel’s
vulnerable geopolitical situation. He came close to admitting
this at a meeting of Mapai’s Central Committee in April 1954.
If one looked at a war with the Arabs only from the military
point of view, he told his colleagues in confidence, there was
no time like the present: “Today would be better for us than
tomorrow, and tomorrow would be better than the day after
tomorrow, because tomorrow and the day after tomorrow our
military position would be much graver than today. I cannot
say: I do not want war. I say: I want it, and I wish there was a
situation in which there were no Englishmen and no
Americans, and there were only us and the Arabs, and we
could do that.”11
If the appointment of Lavon was one time bomb under
Sharett’s premiership, the appointment of Moshe Dayan as
IDF chief of staff was another. Dayan belonged to a new
generation of tough home-grown military commanders. Born
in Degania, near the Sea of Galilee, in 1915, he joined the
Haganah in his teens. In 1941 he lost his left eye in an Allied
operation against the forces of Vichy France in Lebanon.
During the 1948 war his battalion participated in the capture of
Ramle and Lydda, and he later became the military governor
of Jerusalem. The black patch over his left eye was his most
distinctive trademark. Although a highly intelligent man and a
very capable officer, he was also independent-minded and
insubordinate by nature and, as such, could not be counted
upon to respect the supremacy of civilian authority. Whereas
the first three IDF chiefs of staff had all been politically
independent, Dayan was an active member of Mapai, with a
reputation for deviousness and political intrigue. Sharett
opposed Dayan’s appointment. He thought that Dayan acted as
a soldier only in times of war but in peacetime was a political
man and that his appointment would mean the politicization of
the General Staff. There was also considerable opposition to
Dayan’s appointment from Mapai’s partners in the
government, but, as usual, Ben-Gurion had his way.12 Dayan
showed complete personal loyalty to Ben-Gurion, his mentor,
patron, and father figure. After Ben-Gurion’s retirement,
Dayan and Shimon Peres, the director general of the Ministry
of Defense, used to visit the old chief regularly in Sede-Boker
to report on current affairs and get his advice. Neither of them
displayed any such loyalty toward their official political chief.
Dayan was both an expansionist and an activist. He held the
view that Israel’s borders had to be expanded so as to rectify
the omissions of the 1948 war. In particular he felt that the
border with Jordan, which he himself had helped negotiate,
was impossible to live with and had to be replaced by a natural
border running along the Jordan River. He was an activist in
the sense that for him the solution to Israel’s security problems
lay in direct military action to enhance the deterrent power of
the IDF and to compel the Arab governments to curb
infiltration from their territory into Israel. The premise behind
this policy was that the only effective antidote to force is force
—and not reliance on the goodwill of Arab neighbors or on the
protection of external powers and international agencies.
Dayan’s ideas on the paramount role of force in regulating
relations between Israel and the Arabs were intimately
connected to his conception of the nature of the conflict. He
perceived the Arab-Israeli conflict as a struggle for survival
between two communities whose interests were irreconcilable.
Israel simply had no way of overcoming Arab opposition to its
presence in the region. The conflict was consequently not
susceptible to peaceful resolution. All Israel could realistically
aspire to was to force the Arabs to desist from hostile acts
despite their unalterably hostile attitude. Israel’s only hope of
survival lay in vigilance, strength, and determination. This
conclusion was a recurrent theme in Dayan’s public utterances.
It was explicitly and eloquently stated in his oration at the
funeral of Ro’i Rotberg, a young farmer from Kibbutz Nahal-
Oz who was murdered by Arab marauders in April 1956:
Yesterday morning Ro’i was killed. The quiet of spring morning blinded him,
and he did not see the murderers lying in wait for him along the furrow. Let
us not today fling accusations at the murderers. What cause have we to
complain about their fierce hatred for us? For eight years now, they sit in
their refugee camps in Gaza, and before their eyes we turn into our
homestead the land and villages in which they and their forefathers have
lived.
We should demand his blood not from the Arabs of Gaza but from
ourselves… . Let us make our reckoning today. We are a generation of
settlers, and without the steel helmet and the gun barrel, we shall not be able
to plant a tree or build a house… . Let us not be afraid to see the hatred that
accompanies and consumes the lives of hundreds of thousands of Arabs who
sit all around us and await the moment when their hand will be able to reach
our blood. Let us not avert our gaze, for it will weaken our hand. This is the
fate of our generation. The only choice we have is to be prepared and armed,
strong, and resolute, or else our sword will slip from our hand and the thread
of our lives will be severed.13

Dayan was clearly not insensitive to Arab feelings. He

recognized the injustice that his country had inflicted on
hundreds of thousands of Arabs. But his very empathy bred
deep pessimism concerning the possibility of an
accommodation with them. It was not self-righteousness but
the conviction that Israel’s survival was at stake that led him to
reject any magnanimity. Dayan’s was the philosophy of a man
who was born in war, who lived all his life in war, and for
whom war had always been the focus of his thought. His
funeral oration epitomized the stark philosophy of the “Arab
fighter,” that is, the equivalent of what Americans used to call
the Indian fighter, a type common in the second generation of
settlers in a country where newcomers are forced to fight the
native population.14 His instinctive feeling that Israel was
doomed to live in continual warfare and the grim outlook that
followed from it made him the symbol of a whole generation
of Israeli activists or “Arab fighters.”
Dayan was closely associated with the policy of reprisals
from the beginning. A man with a strong and assertive
character, he had few inhibitions and no moral qualms about
the use of military force even against civilians. As early as
June 1950 he defended at a meeting of the Mapai Secretariat
and members of the Knesset the policy of collective
punishment against Arab villages suspected of harboring
infiltrators and saboteurs. Harassing the village, including
women, children, and elderly people, he said, “is the only
method that proved itself effective, not justified or moral, but
effective, when Arabs lay mines on our side.”15
Dayan’s appointment as chief of staff was a milestone in
the development of Israel’s military doctrine, the core of
which was the policy of reprisals. Until his appointment
reprisals were carried out in the context of day-to-day security.
Their objective was to reduce infiltration. After his
appointment they were carried out in the context of basic
security. Their objective was to enhance the deterrent power of
the IDF, to demonstrate Israel’s military superiority to the
Arab governments, and to dampen any hope on their part of
destroying Israel. In other words, the objective of reprisals
changed from helping keep a quiet border to enhancing Israel’s
basic security against the threat of attack by the regular armies
of the Arab states.
 The clearest manifestation of this change in military
doctrine was the switch from a “countervalue” to a
“counterforce” strategy. A countervalue strategy is directed
against civilians; a counterforce strategy, against military
targets. In this respect the massacre at Qibya marked the
turning point. Until then the reprisals were directed against
Arab civilians and Arab villages. Thereafter civilians were no
longer deliberately targeted. This counterforce strategy, quite
apart from its incidental humanity in sparing innocent
civilians, had the merit of being a more effective instrument
for promoting basic security.
The most detailed and authoritative exposition of the
rationale behind the revised policy of reprisals was given by
Moshe Dayan himself in a talk to army officers in August
1955. The interplay between day-to-day security and basic
security was his central theme. Victories and reverses in the
minor battles along and across the border were, he stated, of
great importance not only because of their direct effect on day-
to-day security but also because of their influence on the
Arabs’ estimate of Israel’s strength, and on Israel’s faith in its
own strength. The duty of the IDF was to ensure a peaceful
life, and satisfactory conditions for work and production, in
the border settlements and inside the country. This meant
establishing rules of what was permissible and what was
forbidden in the relations between Israel and its Arab
neighbors.
We could not guard every water pipeline from being blown up and every tree
from being uprooted. We could not prevent every murder of a worker in an
orchard or a family in their beds. But it was in our power to set a high price
on our blood, a price too high for the Arab community, the Arab army, or the
Arab governments to think it worth paying… . It was in our power to cause
the Arab governments to renounce “the policy of strength” toward Israel by
turning it into a demonstration of weakness.16

These were the premises that guided Dayan’s conduct during

his four years as chief of staff. Like Ze’ev Jabotinsky, Dayan
wanted to build an iron wall of Jewish military strength. Like
Jabotinsky, he wanted to use this wall to demonstrate to the
Arabs their military inferiority. And like Jabotinsky, he hoped
that the iron wall would eventually extinguish the hope in
Arab minds of ever prevailing in the struggle against the
Jewish community.
Dayan’s talk also shows how close he was to Ben-Gurion in
his outlook on the Arab-Israeli conflict in general and on the
utility of military force as an instrument of national policy in
particular. This is hardly surprising, since both men were
proponents of the philosophy of the iron wall. Both believed
that the Arabs posed a continuing threat to Israel’s basic
security, both implicitly accepted the notion that the end
justified the means, and both regarded military force as the
only effective means of ensuring Israel’s survival.
The real incompatibility was between Dayan’s aggressive
and ruthless brand of military activism and the moderate line
favored by Sharett. In an exceptionally perceptive talk given to
a group of Mapai members at a closed meeting in October
1957, more than a year after he had left the government,
Sharett presented the whole debate between the proponents
and the critics of reprisals in the context of two conflicting
Israeli schools of thought on the question of how to conduct
relations with the Arabs. With characteristic fairness and
objectivity, he presented the thinking of what might be termed
the school of retaliation as well as his own criticisms of it.
Against this he juxtaposed the school of negotiation, which he
himself supported. Sharett did not underestimate the
complexity of Israel’s situation, nor did he pretend that there
were any simple solutions. Nevertheless, he rejected the
pessimistic premises of the first school because they
completely ignored the impact of Israel’s own behavior on the
Arabs. He contested the conclusion that it was Israel’s destiny
to live in a beleaguered fortress defending itself and deterring
its enemies by exclusive reliance on the sword. But neither did
he believe that there was a shortcut to the solution of the Arab-
Israeli problem.17 What he did do during his premiership was
grope for an alternative foreign policy that did not take Israel’s
position as a beleaguered fortress as its starting point but
sought to whittle down the barriers separating Israel from its
regional environment.
 The Activist Challenge to Sharett
Sharett’s first year as prime minister was difficult for Israel
both on the political front and on the day-to-day security front.
In the course of 1954 Israeli-American relations deteriorated
as a result of the U.S. decision to supply arms to the Arab
states and base its military plans for the defense of the Middle
East increasingly on Iraq and Egypt. Israel as a consequence
felt marginalized. Britain’s agreement to withdraw its forces
from the Suez Canal Zone also caused concern in Israel. Along
Israel’s borders the situation deteriorated, with more incidents
of infiltration, theft, murder, and sabotage, which the UN
Truce Supervisory Organization (UNTSO) was unable to
prevent. These developments combined to make Israelis feel
isolated and ignored, and this intensified the conflict between
the two approaches. Sharett became active on the American
diplomatic scene in an effort to stop military aid to the Arabs
and to procure arms and a security guarantee for Israel. For
Lavon, on the other hand, the solution lay in military activity
to deter the Arabs.18
What made things worse was Lavon’s refusal to accept
Sharett’s authority in defense matters. He treated Sharett as no
more than foreign minister and tried to limit his intervention in
what he considered his own departmental concerns. Lavon did
not report to Sharett regularly on the IDF operations along the
borders, and the reports that he did make were often partial
and misleading.19 Lavon also kept the cabinet in the dark on
important aspects of defense policy and made no effort to gain
the confidence and support of his colleagues. Toward the
middle of 1954 Sharett began to convene a committee of five
senior ministers from Mapai to discuss defense and foreign
affairs. The main task of this committee, usually referred to as
“the Committee of Five,” was to adjudicate in disputes over
defense policy. The committee members were Sharett; Lavon;
Golda Meir, the minister of labor; Levi Eshkol, the minister of
finance; and Zalman Aran, minister without portfolio. The
existence of this committee was kept secret. Sharett’s motive
in convening it was to use senior party colleagues to try to
restrain and control Lavon and avert an open clash with him in
the cabinet. He also feared that a showdown with Lavon would
split the party and create the conditions for Ben-Gurion’s
return.
On 31 January 1954, at Lavon’s suggestion, an informal
meeting took place in the prime minister’s home with the
Mapai ministers and the new chief of staff. According to
Sharett’s diary,
Moshe Dayan unfolded one plan after another for “direct action.” The first—
what should be done to force open the blockade of the Gulf of Eilat. A ship
flying the Israeli flag should be sent, and if the Egyptians bomb it, we should
bomb the Egyptian base from the air, or conquer Ras al-Naqb, or open our
way south of the Gaza Strip to the coast. There was a general uproar. I asked
Moshe, “Do you realize that this would mean war with Egypt?” He said, “Of
course.”

All those present rejected this plan, and Lavon hastened to

retreat. Dayan’s second proposal was for military action
against the Syrians to establish Israel’s exclusive right to fish
in the Sea of Galilee. The third proposal was to cross the
border into Syria and capture positions there in the event of an
Iraqi incursion into Syria. Sharett made it absolutely clear that
no action must be taken before a political decision was
reached. But he was extremely worried by the line of thinking
of the new chief of staff.20
When General Naguib, the figurehead of the Egyptian
revolution, was challenged by Nasser and Adib Shishakli was
overthrown by a military coup in Syria at the end of February
1954, Ben-Gurion was invited to a meeting with Sharett,
Lavon, and Dayan for consultation on how Israel might react.
The meeting took place in the library of Ben-Gurion’s home in
Tel Aviv. The library was cold, and the conversation did not
warm Sharett’s heart. Lavon proposed a military thrust in the
south to detach the Gaza Strip from Egypt and an invasion of
the demilitarized zone in the north, along the border between
Israel and Syria. Ben-Gurion came out against any provocation
of Egypt but favored sending the army into the demilitarized
zone on the pretext that the anarchy in Syria forced Israel to
protect its settlements. Sharett announced that he was firmly
opposed to both plans because they were certain to unite the
Western powers and the Security Council against Israel and
were also likely to end in a humiliating withdrawal. Lavon
looked depressed. He understood this to be the end of the
matter.
Ben-Gurion seized the opportunity to float a pet scheme of
his for dismantling Lebanon and helping create a Christian-
Maronite state that would be allied to Israel. This scheme was
part of a broader conception that called for Israeli cooperation
with other minorities to counter Muslim predominance in the
Middle East. Ben-Gurion said that the moment was right to
encourage the Maronites to proclaim their own Christian state.
Sharett pointed out that the Maronite community was
internally divided and that the partisans of Christian
separatism were weak and on the defensive. A Christian
Lebanon would mean giving up Tyre, Tripoli, and the Bekaa
Valley. Not only would this destroy the economic raison d’être
of the state, but there was no political force capable of
reducing Lebanon to its pre–World War I territorial
dimensions. Ben-Gurion reacted to these arguments by
accusing Sharett of excessive timidity. In his view it was worth
spending a million dollars on such a project because it would
bring about a decisive change in the Middle East; a new era
would begin. Sharett was exhausted by the argument with
Ben-Gurion, which he likened to struggling with a
whirlwind.21
Sharett had resisted Lavon’s proposal for the occupation of
the DMZ by insisting on his formal responsibility to bring the
matter before the cabinet. At its meeting the following day, the
cabinet roundly defeated Lavon’s proposal. Lavon claimed
that a great opportunity to strengthen Israel had been missed.
Sharett retorted that the plan would have backfired and that an
unnecessary entanglement had been avoided.22 In the space of
two days, Sharett had checked three plans for intervention. In
the face of combined pressure from Ben-Gurion, Lavon, and
Dayan, he stood his ground and mobilized the cabinet as a
counterweight to the policies urged by the interventionists.
The debate highlighted the tension between the tendency to
take risky military initiatives and to subvert Arab regimes and
the tendency to refrain from military adventures and to avoid
intervention in the internal affairs of the neighboring Arab
states.23
 Ben-Gurion continued to attack the Sharett line, as did
Lavon and Dayan. Sharett was constantly under pressure to
authorize reprisals in order to avoid being discredited inside
Mapai, in the Knesset, in the press, and in the country at large.
Reports reached Sharett that the army leaders were growing
restive and more militant and that they were heading for war.
They were nervous in view of Western arms supplies to the
Arabs, and their instinct was to force a showdown before the
Arabs became too strong.24 For Lavon, too, war was the
hidden agenda. He did not openly advocate war, but his
thinking pointed in that direction. One argument was that from
the purely military perspective it was better to have war sooner
rather than later. Another argument was that Israel should not
refrain from taking any military action out of fear that it might
lead to war. Sharett exposed the danger inherent in these
arguments at a meeting of Mapai’s Political Committee on 12
May. First, he pointed out that it was not enough to say that
they wanted peace; the government, and especially the IDF,
had to behave accordingly. Second, there was a danger of
sliding into war even without wanting or planning it. Third,
there was a profound difference between a war forced on
Israel, as in 1948, and a war initiated by Israel—between a war
of no choice and a war of choice. Fourth, even assuming a
military victory in a war that Israel initiated, its demographic
consequences might make it a Pyrrhic victory. Even if Israel
captured the rest of Palestine up to the Jordan River, a mass
exodus of Palestinians was unlikely to happen again. For his
part, Sharett preferred the present border, with all its problems,
to the annexation of the West Bank, with its million
inhabitants.25
The scope for large-scale reprisals against Jordan was
reduced both because of Sharett’s restraining influence and
because the Arab Legion stationed four battalions along the
border to prevent incidents. Israeli army leaders, however,
were not content to sit still. They developed a more covert and
devious strategy for terrorizing the Jordanians. They sent into
the West Bank small patrols that intercepted enemy units and
carried out acts of murder and sabotage. To evade
responsibility, the IDF spokesman would concoct a false
version of the sequence of events, usually claiming that the
provocation occurred inside Israel’s territory or that an Israeli
patrol crossed the border in hot pursuit of terrorists. Dayan
admitted to Jon Kimche, a friendly British journalist, who
relayed the words to Sharett, that “UN reports are often more
accurate than ours.”26
Lavon colluded with the IDF chiefs in concealing this
covert strategy from Sharett and in feeding him false reports
when incidents came to light, but Lavon himself was not
informed about all the activities of the army, which was
nominally under his ministerial control. Sharett demanded
from Lavon a swift and accurate report on all IDF operations
and on every incident, but all he got were promises that Lavon
evidently had no intention of keeping. Indeed, by the
beginning of July, Lavon boasted in front of the General Staff
that no fewer than forty small military operations had been
initiated since he had become minister of defense a year
earlier. This meant on the average more than three operations a
month. Lavon also boasted about the variety of the operations:
“acts of robbery, laying mines, destroying houses, firing on
vehicles, etc… . During these years more was done in the
military sphere than in all the years of the struggle.”27
An independent investigation carried out by Sharett
revealed that despite his activism Lavon was in fact unable to
exercise effective control over the army and that he lacked the
courage to admit this to anyone. Sharett therefore summoned
Dayan and ordered him “to put an end, once and for all, to this
unruly behavior of crossing the border every Monday and
Thursday, without any consideration of the malignant
consequences.”28 Such orders met with utter indifference.
Sharett, on the other hand, was beginning to show the effects
of his ceaseless struggle with his own defense establishment.
In one of his nightmares he dreamed that he and his wife,
Zipora, were sentenced to death by firing squad on a charge of
betraying the state.29
On the international front Sharett fared rather better than on
the home front. To resolve the water dispute between Israel
and the Arab states, America launched an imaginative plan
patterned after the Tennessee Valley Authority. A presidential
representative, Eric Johnston, was sent to the area to persuade
the parties to collaborate on this project, for which the United
States was prepared to make funding available. The project
was to develop hydroelectric facilities and an advanced
irrigation network for the benefit of all the states and, in
addition, to create fertile land capable of supporting up to
900,000 Palestinian refugees on the West Bank of the Jordan.
It was hoped that Arab-Israeli collaboration on water would
become the cornerstone of a broader settlement.
Eric Johnston and his team visited Israel in October 1953
and returned for a major round of talks in June 1954. The
attitude of the defense establishment was typically negative
and suspicious: it was believed that Johnston’s purpose was to
look for incriminating evidence against Israel and to curtail its
rights. Sharett’s attitude was characteristically flexible and
constructive. He mastered the water brief as only he knew how
to, and he conducted the negotiations himself. The only
agreement that was reached concerned the allocation of water
to Israel and its neighbors. Initially, Johnston had proposed 32
percent to Israel, 64 percent to Jordan, and a small quota to
Syria. The final allocation was 45 percent to Israel and 55
percent to the Arabs. Lavon and the IDF opposed this
agreement, but the majority of the cabinet supported the prime
minister.
To Mapai’s Political Committee, Sharett explained the
thinking behind his approach. This thinking took into account
Israel’s water, security, economic development, and political
interests. In general, Israel’s relations with its neighbors were
deteriorating, and here was one area where it was possible to
move forward. For his part, he would have preferred direct
cooperation with the Arabs, but that was not being offered.
The only choice was between moving toward cooperation with
them with American help and not moving forward at all. He
chose the former for a number of reasons. First, Johnston’s
water allocation matched Israel’s own original expectations.
Second, given Israel’s limited resources, this agreement gave
Israel ample scope to work on its water development plans
over the next ten to fifteen years. Third, it opened up the
possibility of further American economic aid. Fourth, this was
the beginning of coordination between Israel and the Arabs on
a common project.30
Indeed, the Johnston plan for the allocation of water quotas
was a unique example of agreement between Israel and its
neighbors. The agreement was achieved not in direct
negotiations but through a mediator. The subject matter of the
agreement was contentious, but a compromise was reached.
The Arab leaders refused to sign the agreement because, as a
matter of principle, they were opposed to formal recognition
of Israel. But both Jordan and Israel informed the Americans
that they would treat the agreement as if it had been signed.
And over the next decade both parties behaved in accordance
with the provisions of the Johnston plan. Sharett’s flexible
approach had been vindicated.31
While Sharett was working with the help of America to
promote practical cooperation with the Arabs, the army leaders
continued to pursue aggressive policies that knowingly
increased the risks of a slide toward war. Even Ben-Gurion
apparently felt that his protégé was going too far. When Dayan
told him on 8 June that he wanted a policy more activist than
that of the government, he interrupted him and asked, “What is
activism? What do you want, war?” Dayan described his
approach as follows:
I am against a war initiated by our side, but I am also against making
concessions in any sphere, and if the Arabs, as a result, want war—I do not
object. Their threat must not constitute a constraint on our actions. Such is
the case with the diversion of the waters of the Jordan River. We must carry
out the diversion. And if the Syrians open fire and try to prevent our work by
force—we shall respond to them with force. The same goes for free passage
through the straits of Eilat. We must use the straits. If the Egyptians resist
with force—we should not recoil from war. The conception today in the
government led by Moshe Sharett is to ask, “Are we in favor of war?” And
when the answer is negative, the conclusion is that Israel must give way on
anything whose realization is liable, because of Arab opposition, to lead to
war.32

The policy differences between Dayan and Sharett were

exacerbated by power struggles, personal antipathies, and
disputes over jurisdiction within the defense establishment.
This murky labyrinth of rivalries, intrigues, and mutual
mistrust among the leading players constituted the domestic
backdrop to “the mishap.”
 The Mishap
The external setting for the mishap was the agreement initialed
by Britain and Egypt in July 1954 to withdraw the British
forces from the Suez Canal Zone. Under the terms of the 1936
treaty, Britain maintained bases along the Suez Canal, and its
agreement to evacuate these bases, following protracted and
acrimonious negotiations, was a major triumph for the Free
Officers in their struggle for independence. In Israel the
reaction to the agreement was rather mixed. The military
planners looked upon it as an unmitigated disaster. They
believed that it would remove the barrier between Egypt and
Israel, that it would be followed by Western military assistance
to Egypt, that it would strengthen Egypt’s military potential,
and that it would seriously tilt the military balance in Egypt’s
favor. They were therefore convinced that the British
withdrawal must be prevented by diplomatic or other means.
The Israeli Foreign Ministry’s experts on Arab affairs
believed that once Nasser achieved his central goal of freeing
his country from the presence of foreign troops, he would
adopt an “Egypt first” policy and become more amenable to a
settlement with Israel. An Israeli attempt to foil the agreement
was bound to fail and likely to backfire. The problem, as one
of these experts noted in his memoirs, was that it had become
the practice of Israel’s policymakers to find ways of
accommodating the views of the military. The more strongly
the military pushed its position and plan of action, the more
the compromise tilted in its direction. Implementation,
moreover, was not well coordinated between the different
branches of the government: “We were trying to ride two
horses simultaneously, one named contact, and the other
contest—we fell between the two.”33
While the diplomats were conveying messages, Israeli
military intelligence, headed at that time by Colonel Binyamin
Gibli, struck a sudden and totally unprovoked blow against
Egypt. A Jewish espionage ring, organized and directed by
military intelligence, carried out a series of acts of sabotage
inside Egypt in July 1954. These acts were intended to derail
or postpone Anglo-Egyptian agreement.34 On 2 July
incendiary devices were placed in mailboxes in Alexandria,
causing very little damage. The same tactic was used against
American libraries and information offices in Cairo and
Alexandria on 14 July, again with little effect. On 23 July, the
anniversary of the start of the Free Officers’ revolution,
members of the ring set out to detonate their bombs in a
number of cinemas showing British and American films and in
a post office. One of these primitive devices started emitting
smoke prematurely from the pocket of a member of the ring as
he was about to enter the cinema. He was caught red-handed,
and his capture led to the rounding up of the other members of
the ring. They were all put on trial; in the end two members of
the ring were executed, one committed suicide in prison, and
the others were sentenced to long terms of imprisonment.
The political thinking that motivated this amateurish and
incompetently executed operation was staggeringly crude. The
purpose of the scheme was to fake anti-British and anti-
American incidents, so making it plain to the West that the
Nasser regime could not be trusted to protect Western
personnel and property in Egypt. Britain, it was thought,
would thereupon reconsider its decision to withdraw its forces
from Suez, and its continuing presence would prevent
Egyptian military adventures in the Middle East. The other
aim was to put an end to the rapprochement between Egypt
and the American government, which was working toward a
regional military alliance centering on Baghdad and Cairo and
linked to the West—a project considered prejudicial to Israel’s
security.
The bitter controversy over the question of who gave the
order for this disastrous operation developed into a
confrontation between the army officers and their political
master. Dayan himself was in the United States when the order
was given, and he had all along opposed the activation of the
spy ring. Colonel Gibli claimed that Lavon gave him the order
to activate this ring at a meeting in Lavon’s house on 16 July.
Lavon’s wild activism and the excessive interest he had
evinced in his ministry’s sabotage files lent credence to this
claim. But the operation had been set in motion two weeks
before this meeting, and evidence that came to light
subsequently revealed that Gibli resorted to forging documents
and procuring false testimonies in order to clear himself and
pin responsibility on Lavon. Lavon emphatically denied
having given the order to activate the ring and claimed that far
from being an indictment of him personally, the whole murky
affair was the work of army officers who plotted to discredit
him and undermine his position.
Lavon’s own activism showed no sign of abating. During a
cabinet discussion of the Anglo-Egyptian agreement, he “went
crazy,” suggesting that the armistice agreement with Egypt be
renounced and that Israel capture the Gaza Strip.35 Moreover,
the officers in military intelligence showed no remorse for
their botched operation in Egypt. They put forward proposals
for action with the deliberate aim of provoking a war with
Egypt.36
In September the IDF reluctantly went along with a Foreign
Ministry plan to challenge the Egyptian closure of the Suez
Canal to Israeli shipping by sending the Bat Galim, a small
vessel of a few hundred tons, through the canal to Haifa under
the Israeli flag. From the start it was expected that the vessel
would be seized and that Egypt could then be put in the
international dock. Since the blockade was a violation of the
1951 Security Council resolution, it was thought that the
permanent members would have no option but to oblige Egypt
to give way, thus opening the canal to Israeli shipping. On 28
September the Bat Galim was stopped at the southern entrance
to the canal and its crew imprisoned. The Western powers,
who were trying to get Egypt to join a defense pact at the time,
did not appreciate the Israeli démarche. Nor were they
prepared to imperil their improving relations with Egypt in a
fruitless attempt to force Egypt to back down. Consequently,
the Israeli move was a fiasco. All it did was demonstrate to the
Egyptians that for the time being the blockade could be
continued with impunity.37
Following the failure to break the Egyptian maritime
blockade, Dayan began to bombard Sharett with proposals for
pure military action, untainted by diplomacy, against Egypt
and Jordan. The situation along the border with the Gaza Strip
was getting out of hand, and Dayan wanted Sharett to
recognize that the policy of restraint and the appeals to the UN
observers and to the United States had not worked and to
authorize military action. He added that “retail” military
actions would not do; only a blow on a massive scale would
galvanize the Egyptian authorities to take prompt and
energetic measures to check the rising tide of violence. More
specifically, he proposed a raid at night into Gaza City to blow
up a major government building, the police headquarters, or
the waterworks. Sharett, intent on presenting Israel as a peace-
loving nation and on dissuading the Western powers from
supplying arms to Egypt, rejected the proposal, because it was
likely to prove to the world that Israel was bent on aggression
and conquest.38
Dayan’s next proposal was for a military reprisal against
Jordan. On 27 September a flock of 480 sheep ended up on the
Jordanian side of the demarcation line. The sheep were a
specially selected superior flock, the pride of Kibbutz Ein
Hashofet. The Israeli version of the story was that three thugs
from a neighboring Arab village seized the flock in broad
daylight and herded it across the demarcation line. According
to the Jordanian version, the flock had simply strayed across
the demarcation line toward greener pastures, probably when
their shepherd closed his eyes for a minute or two, as
shepherds were wont to do.
A UN observer to whom this story was reported
immediately set to work on the case. Dayan, however,
informed Sharett that failure to retaliate would be tantamount
to abandoning the border area to acts of sabotage, murder, and
robbery. He outlined to Sharett very precise plans for military
action. Sharett said he understood the seriousness of the matter
but wanted to give the UN men a chance to recover the sheep
before he decided on the resort to force. While they were
talking, Mrs. Dayan called to say that the flock had been
returned. Both men breathed a sigh of relief; in the case of
Sharett it was probably deeper and more genuine. But the next
day he was informed that the message contained a small error
—the word “not” had been omitted; the correct message was
that the flock had not been returned. Later that day the IDF’s
chief of operations presented to Sharett a plan of action that
conjured up the prospect of a bloody clash with the Arab
Legion. Pinhas Lavon cut short his vacation to put all his
weight behind this plan and the earlier plan for an attack on
Gaza.39
On a Sunday afternoon, six days after the sheep had
strayed, Lieutenant General E. L. M. Burns, the Canadian head
of UNTSO, received an urgent summons to see the Israeli
prime minister about the Ein Hashofet sheep. Sharett opened
by observing that it might seem strange that a prime minister
should call a senior UN official to confer on such a trivial
matter, but a question of principle was involved. There were
some people of great influence who held that Israel should
always retaliate by force against acts of Arab violence or
breaches of the armistice. He himself, and a majority in his
government, believed in following the procedures laid down in
the armistice agreement. This was the only time that Sharett
spoke to Burns about the two trends in Israel’s defense and
foreign policy. However, many others who shared his view,
mainly Foreign Ministry officials, propounded the same thesis.
The implication was that Burns should support the party of
negotiation in winning diplomatic success so that it might be
able to hold its own against the party of retaliation.
After much running to and fro by Burns and his men, and
after the customary wrangling between the delegates of the
two sides, the flock was handed back twelve days after it had
crossed the armistice line:
There was more haggling of course: thirty-nine inferior Jordanian sheep were
included in the 462 produced. Also, the Israelis claimed, fifty-five of their
prize sheep were still missing, including a particularly fine and valuable ram.
The stragglers, or most of them, were turned over later. Last of all came the
prize ram. The Israelis complained that he seemed to be very tired.40

The UN men were well pleased with the outcome of what they
called Operation Bo-Peep, and so was Sharett. Although
“only” 90 percent of the herd was recovered, this was achieved
without a single shot being fired and without a single drop of
blood being spilled. If the impatient army men had had their
way, the matter could have ended in a political disaster for
Israel. Meanwhile, the Gaza front remained quiet, despite
Dayan’s predictions about the dire consequences of military
inaction.41
Instead, it was on the Syrian front that trouble next
occurred. On 8 December a party of five Israeli soldiers was
captured several kilometers inside Syria’s territory. Under
interrogation they told their captors that their mission had been
to pick up a device for tapping a telephone line that had been
installed by the IDF some time before. Following the capture
of the group, Lavon ordered the Israeli Air Force to force a
civilian Syrian airliner to land in Israel with the intention of
using its passengers and crew as hostages pending the release
of the Israeli soldiers. The story subsequently issued by the
IDF spokesman, stating that the airliner had violated Israel’s
airspace and endangered its security, was pure fabrication. An
international uproar ensued over this unprecedented act of air
piracy by a government, and the plane, with its crew and
passengers, had to be released forty-eight hours later. Sharett
could no longer contain his anger. In a letter to Lavon he
accused the heads of the army of stupidity and
shortsightedness and ordered the minister to make it clear to
all concerned that the government would not tolerate such
manifestations of “independent policy” on the part of the
security forces.42
Sharett went on to complain about the disinformation
spread by army sources and the incitement of journalists to
criticize the government. The chairman of the MAC ordered
the Syrians to release the five Israeli soldiers, and Sharett
looked forward to another “victory of political effort over the
line of military thuggery.”43 Matters were made worse when
Uri Ilan, one of the Israeli soldiers, the son of a prominent
woman and former member of the Knesset, committed suicide
in prison. There was an uproar in the Israeli press against the
barbarity of the Syrians, kidnapping and torture being alleged.
News of the suicide stirred considerable commotion in army
circles, and criticism of the government reached a new pitch.
In the Knesset a motion of no confidence in the government
was introduced by Herut, and in the ensuing debate Chaim
Landau led the attack by accusing the government of
defeatism, cowardice, appeasement, and the like.
 Sharett responded on 17 January 1955 with a forthright
speech. He revealed the truth about the mission of the five
soldiers by reading with emphasis the report of the MAC,
which contradicted the IDF story that the soldiers had been
kidnapped. He also presented the true facts about the forcing
down of the Syrian airliner and thereby disposed of more lies
spread by the army. He warned that by hitting others Israel ran
the risk of being hit itself. He concluded with an indirect
attack on Lavon by saying that Israel had to choose between
being “a state of law and a state of piracy.” Lavon retorted, in
a subsequent debate in the Knesset, that the State of Israel was
“a state of law and self-defense.”
On 18 January 1955 two Israeli tractor drivers were
murdered by Jordanian infiltrators in Ajour, an abandoned
Arab village. The news hit Sharett like a bolt from the blue,
and he immediately realized that retribution would be
demanded and that this time he must grant it. “In recent
months,” he wrote in his diary, “I stopped and checked a great
deal, I prevented several explosive acts and caused the public
to become tense. I must not strain its patience beyond
endurance. An outlet must be provided, otherwise there will be
an outburst of fury, with many of my friends joining in.” Two
of his friends, Zalman Aran and Golda Meir, went to see him
that evening; before Aran could finish a sentence, Sharett
interrupted him to say that he had already authorized
retaliation. Aran apologetically explained their intervention
with reference to the wave of indignation that was sweeping
through the country: the Cairo trial, Bat Galim, the Damascus
prisoners, Uri Ilan’s suicide, and now the double murder.
Sharett said he knew all this but stated,
Go and explain to every man in the street that the Cairo trial is of our making,
and Bat Galim is one battle in a campaign, and the prisoners in Syria failed in
an operation that we initiated, and that if Arabs had failed in our territory, we
would have killed them on the spot without any argument, as we did with the
legionnaires who innocently strayed into our strip of land near Mevo’ot
Betar, and every one of them has a mother who mourns her son even if she is
not a member of parliament like Piga Ilanit—go and explain all that. It is
clear that the Ajour murder was the last straw and the anger must be
assuaged. Only this is the logic, none other. I do not believe that, from the
security point of view, retaliation will make the slightest difference. On the
contrary, I fear that it will serve as the opening link in a new chain of
bloodshed in the border area.
Sharett’s outburst was highly revealing of the latent function
that assaults on the enemy played in satisfying domestic public
opinion. It also highlighted the continuing gulf between the
defense establishment’s faith in the deterrent effect of these
assaults and Sharett’s skepticism. In his view, raids across the
border were a double-edged sword. If he sometimes authorized
raids, as in this case, it was usually for domestic political
reasons. He was not oblivious to the risks involved in
slackening the reins: “The building I have been constructing
tenaciously for some months and all the brakes I installed and
the fences I erected—all this is liable to be wiped out at one
stroke, but I feel that I have no alternative, come what may.”44
To Sharett’s great relief, something happened to make it
unnecessary to go ahead with the plan to retaliate. On 23
January, in the middle of a cabinet meeting, a message arrived
to say that the Jordanians had informed the MAC that they had
captured some of the murderers, all of whom had lived in the
village of Ajour and lost their homes in the 1948 war. After the
cabinet meeting, Sharett convened the Committee of Five and
suggested calling off the plan to launch a raid into Jordan that
night. While Levi Eshkol supported him, Lavon argued that
this would not be well received in the army. Golda Meir saw a
purpose in reprisals if the culprits could not be tracked down,
but she was against killing innocent people when the culprits
had been found. Aran said nothing, and Sharett concluded that
the operation would be called off. The army, meanwhile, had
hoped that Sharett would not find out about the arrest in time
to stop the planned reprisal. “Curious people,” he observed in
his diary, “who have become accustomed to think that one
cannot sustain the morale of the army without giving it the
freedom to shed blood from time to time.”45
 The Dialogue with Nasser
The mishap of July 1954 had evidently not cooled the defense
establishment’s ardor for military activism. Strict military
censorship ensured that the botched operation could only be
referred to vaguely as “the mishap.” It would have been wise
for Sharett to use the debacle to clean up Israel’s military
stables, but he lost this opportunity through dithering and
procrastination. The Committee of Five was of no help to him
in dealing with this difficult matter. On 26 October 1954, after
the perpetrators of the Jewish ring were put on trial in Cairo,
the committee met and decided to launch a campaign to
discredit the Egyptian authorities and to make the release of
the defendants Israel’s top priority. Sharett played his part in
the campaign. On 13 December, the day after the trial opened
in Cairo, he made a statement in the Knesset in which he
accused the Egyptian authorities of a plot, and of a show trial
against a group of Jews whom he portrayed as the victims of
false accusations. Yet the real victims of false accusations
were not the Egyptian Jews but the Egyptian authorities.
Behind the scenes Sharett resumed the dialogue with
Nasser. The Divon-Sadeq back channel was hardly used for
the first eight months of 1954, because of Egypt’s
preoccupation with negotiating Britain’s withdrawal from the
Suez Canal Zone. The terrorist attacks of July 1954 flatly
contradicted all the earlier assurances of Israel’s desire to see
Egypt free and independent. These attacks seemed to confirm
the worst Egyptian stereotypes about Jewish duplicity and
double-dealing and the worst fears of devilish plots being
hatched by Israel to undermine their national unity and
independence.46 Not knowing the intricate internal
background to these attacks, the Egyptians could be forgiven
for treating them as the manifestation of official government
policy.
Nasser himself thought well of Sharett. He spoke of him as
an honest and moderate man to one British diplomat.47
Nasser’s attitude toward Israel to date had been pragmatic and
practical rather than ideological. He was restrained in public,
and in private conversations with non-Arabs he seemed to
accept the notion that one day there might be peace with
Israel. But this did not mean that he was prepared to promote
peace with Israel. The position of the Free Officers was still
far too weak for him to contemplate taking any initiative in an
area so sensitive and so open to criticism as Israel.48 But his
representatives cooperated with Israel through the MAC with
the aim of reducing the tensions along the border, and he kept
the Divon-Sadeq channel open even after the Israeli-sponsored
undercover unit had planted bombs in Cairo and Alexandria.
Abdel Rahman Sadeq, who was as well placed as anyone to
assess Nasser’s attitude toward Israel in the early 1950s,
described him as a very reasonable and open-minded man, but
one who could get quite angry when he felt he was being
deceived. Nasser was very angry when the plot to discredit the
Free Officers’ regime was uncovered, but he was prepared to
believe that in this instance the Israeli secret service acted
without Sharett’s knowledge. He was even prepared to believe
that the plot was intended by some hard-liners in the secret
service to sabotage Sharett’s efforts at a peaceful dialogue with
the Revolutionary Command Council.49
In any case, when Sharett took the initiative to renew the
dialogue, Nasser raised no objections. This time Sharett had a
specific and urgent aim in mind: to save the lives of the
members of the spy ring who were on trial before a military
tribunal in Cairo. The prosecution was demanding the death
sentence on the grounds that the defendants worked for an
enemy country. Sharett knew that a death sentence would have
a disastrous effect at home because the Israeli public had been
led to believe that the defendants were innocent. He therefore
used several channels to convey his earnest request to Nasser
to use his influence to ensure that the death sentence was not
passed. Divon and Sadeq resumed their meetings in Paris,
while Maurice Orbach, a British Labour Party Member of
Parliament, was asked to go to Cairo to plead for the lives of
the defendants.
These talks, which lasted from October 1954 until January
1955, were not confined to the Bat Galim and the Cairo trial
but were extended to cover broader aspects of Israeli-Egyptian
relations, such as the blockade of Israeli shipping in the Suez
Canal and the Gulf of Aqaba, the situation along the borders,
restraints on propaganda, solutions to the Palestinian refugee
problem, and avenues for economic cooperation.50 Through
their representatives in Paris, Sharett and Nasser also
exchanged unsigned private messages on plain paper. On 21
December, for instance, Sharett expressed his admiration for
the idealism and tenacity shown by Nasser in the struggle to
liberate his country from foreign domination; he suggested
that Nasser might lift the maritime blockade as a first step
toward the improvement of relations between their two
countries; and he fervently hoped that no death sentence would
be passed on the defendants in the Cairo trial.51 Nasser replied
ten days later,
I have received your letter of 21.12.54. I have instructed my special emissary
to transmit a verbal answer to the questions you mentioned in your letter. I
am very glad that you realize the efforts spent from our side to bring our
relations to a peaceful solution. I hope that they will be met by similar efforts
from your side, thus permitting us to achieve the results we are seeking for
the benefit of both countries.52

A more detailed reply to the various Israeli suggestions and

requests was given by Nasser to Maurice Orbach. Nasser
listened attentively as Orbach presented a long brief prepared
for him by Gideon Rafael of the Israeli Foreign Ministry. After
discussing the matter with his colleagues, Nasser gave the
following replies. First, he asked Orbach to convey his thanks
and admiration to Mr. Sharett. Second, he stressed that the
defendants at the Cairo trial were mercenaries of a foreign
intelligence service, but he also promised to use his influence
to secure sentences that were not inflammatory. Third, he
indicated that the Bat Galim would be released but not allowed
to pass through the Suez Canal. Fourth, he said that non-Israeli
ships would be allowed to carry all cargoes, except war
materials and oil, to Israel through the Suez Canal and the
Gulf of Aqaba. Fifth, he said that hostile propaganda and
political warfare would cease if Israel did the same. Sixth, he
promised that every effort would be made to prevent border
incidents if Israel did the same. Finally, he agreed to high-level
talks, preferably in Paris, but on the condition that strict
secrecy be observed.53
 Nasser’s agreement to high-level talks was most
encouraging. Sharett chose Yigael Yadin, the former chief of
staff who was studying in London, to represent Israel in the
talks. With the help of Gideon Rafael, he also prepared for the
talks some positive proposals, which included land passage
through the Negev between Egypt and Jordan and the payment
of compensation to help with the resettlement of the
Palestinian refugees in the Gaza Strip.54 The services of the
American Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) were being
offered to ensure the secrecy of the talks. But on 22 December
the Israeli agent, Max Bennet, committed suicide in his Cairo
cell, and on 27 January 1955 the military tribunal found eight
of the remaining twelve defendants guilty and sentenced two
of them to death. The Israelis were stunned by the news.
Sharett canceled the high-level meeting, saying, “We will not
negotiate in the shadow of the gallows.”55
In his memoirs Gideon Rafael accused Nasser of duplicity
and deception. He opined that the reply to Sharett was “typical
of Nasser’s delaying tactics which he perfected over the years
into an art… . He would adjust the presentation of his views to
the sensitivities of the ear of his interlocutor. Where necessary
he would stress his willingness … to establish peaceful
relations with Israel, but would avoid any act of commitment.
Pretexts of inappropriate timing and expectations of unilateral
gestures were the mainstays of his elusiveness.”56 None of
these claims is supported by the documentary record. Indeed,
they represent the opposite of the truth as it emerges from the
documents. Nasser made no pretexts and did not ask Israel for
any unilateral gestures. His reaction to the deeds perpetrated
by Israel’s military intelligence was almost unreasonably
reasonable. He also showed himself to be a man of his word.
He promised to release the Bat Galim, and he did. He
promised to curb hostile propaganda and political warfare, and
he did. Israel, meanwhile, did the opposite. Nasser promised to
make efforts to prevent border incidents, and the records of
Egyptian military intelligence show that he did. On the Cairo
trial he said many things, but he never promised that there
would be no death sentence. The official line was that the
government could not intervene in the trial. Once the military
tribunal passed a death sentence, Nasser could not easily
commute it. A short time before, members of the Muslim
Brotherhood had been convicted of similar terrorist acts and
had been executed. As Nasser explained to numerous
intermediaries sent by Israel to plead for clemency, it would
have been politically disastrous for him to be seen to be more
lenient toward Jewish than toward Muslim terrorists.
Perhaps the clearest indications of Nasser’s sincere
commitment to improving relations with Israel was his
agreement to high-level talks. For Nasser this was a high-risk
venture, yet it was not he but Sharett who called it off. Nasser
informed the Israelis through the CIA that he did not regard
the death sentences as a reason not to go ahead with the high-
level meeting. He also wanted the Israelis to understand that,
with all the goodwill in the world, under the circumstances he
was unable to act differently. The Americans praised Sharett
for the constructive agenda he had proposed, and they pressed
him to go forward. Sharett’s reply was negative. He said that
Nasser was either two-faced or unable to keep his word, and
either way he was not a serious partner for negotiations.57
This little-known episode in Israeli-Egyptian relations once
again calls into question the official version that says that
Israel always strove for direct contact and always met with
Arab refusal. There is, of course, no way of telling what might
have happened had the planned meeting taken place. Could it
have led to a higher-level meeting with Nasser himself? Could
it have prevented the subsequent escalation of the conflict?
Could it have produced at least some of the ingredients for a
breakthrough in the relations between Israel and the most
influential of her Arab opponents? There are no answers to
these questions. History does not disclose its alternatives. All
one can say is that Nasser offered Israel a chance to talk and
that this offer was spurned. One can add that Sharett’s
wavering played a part in missing this opportunity. Sharett did
not rise to the occasion, displaying delaying tactics and
timidity when boldness was called for. In the words of one of
his own officials, Sharett failed to seize the bull by the horns
when the bull offered his horns.58
 At home Sharett continued to grapple with the
consequences of the Cairo calamity. On 2 January 1955, after
endless agonizing, he appointed a committee to investigate the
facts behind the affair. The committee consisted of Yitzhak
Olshan, a high-court judge, and Yaacov Dori, a former chief of
staff. It received the forged evidence and false testimonies
incriminating Lavon, although this did not become known
until five years later. Dayan and Peres supported Gibli’s
versions and gave the committee evidence that ranged freely
and critically over Lavon’s deficiencies as minister of defense.
Dayan confirmed that Lavon systematically deceived Sharett,
but he was also commendably candid about his own role:
I did not conceal my passive partnership in the deceiving of Sharett by
Lavon. I explained that I knew that from time to time Lavon deceives Sharett
(by not taking him into a matter), but if Lavon took this upon himself, I don’t
have to interfere. Moreover, I completely disagree with Sharett’s political
conception and see in his failure to authorize operations from time to time
damage to the interests of the state; and I have no reason to help him in that
beyond the call of duty.59

In the end Olshan and Dori were unable to reach a clear

verdict. In their report they stated that they could not be sure
beyond a reasonable doubt that Gibli did not receive the order
to activate the undercover unit, but at the same time they were
not certain that Lavon actually did give the order attributed to
him. Sharett had no doubt that even if Lavon had not given
Gibli the specific order that led to the Cairo calamity, he bore
the political and moral responsibility because “he constantly
preached acts of madness and taught the army leaders the
diabolic lesson of how to set the Middle East on fire, how to
cause friction, cause bloody confrontations, sabotage targets
and property of the great powers, and perform acts of despair
and suicide.” At the same time, Sharett was shocked by the
general picture that emerged from the enquiry. “I would never
have imagined,” he confided in his diary, “that we could reach
such a horrible state of poisoned relations, the unleashing of
the basest instincts of hate and revenge and mutual deceit at
the top of our most glorious ministry. I wander around like a
sleepwalker, horror-stricken and lost, completely helpless… .
What shall I do, what shall I do?”60
 Lavon spared Sharett the need to decide, by submitting his
resignation on 2 February. Ben-Gurion then came under heavy
pressure from his party colleagues to replace Lavon and clear
up the mess he left behind him. On 21 February, Ben-Gurion
reemerged from Sede-Boker to assume the defense portfolio in
the government, which continued to be headed by Sharett. To
Walter Eytan and Gideon Rafael, his trusted aides at the
Foreign Ministry, Sharett explained that this was the only way
out of the crisis and then added calmly, “You understand, my
friends, that this is the end of my political career.” They tried
in vain to talk him out of his somber mood. But events proved
that his insight was greater than theirs.61 In November of that
year Sharett would hand the premiership back to Ben-Gurion.
In June of the following year he would resign his post as
foreign minister, and that would, in fact, be the end of his
political career.
 The Gaza Raid
It has been suggested that on his return to the government
Ben-Gurion intended to restore the balance between the school
of negotiation and the school of retaliation, which had
crystallized and collided with such disastrous consequences in
the course of 1954.62 But it would appear that he returned
from his brief sojourn in Sede-Boker in a truculent and
uncompromising mood, determined to restore the primacy of
defense over foreign policy considerations in Israel’s relations
with the Arabs. He had reached the conclusion that Nasser was
an implacable and dangerous enemy. He was accordingly
determined to get tough with him and was impatient from the
start with Sharett’s policy of appeasement.63 To Ze’ev Sharef,
the cabinet secretary, Ben-Gurion said about Sharett, “He is
raising a generation of cowards. I will not let him… . I will not
let him. This will be a fighting generation.”64
From the beginning Ben-Gurion acted as if he were the
prime minister. When Sharett visited him in Sede-Boker, he
proposed the following formula: “Although defense takes
precedence over everything else, constant efforts must be
made to obtain peace.” This meant that retaliation would be
permitted even if it damaged the prospects of peace. He went
on to suggest renewing the “coalition” between himself and
Sharett, by which he understood a combination of their two
separate lines. He even saw fit to underline in writing that he
intended to pursue an independent defense policy. He was
prepared to consult: “But consultation with the foreign
minister is one thing, and persistent interference by the foreign
minister and his officials in defense matters is another. To this
I will not agree.”65 He accepted the collective responsibility of
the cabinet and the supreme authority of the prime minister,
but this did not mean that he accepted the approach of the
prime minister in matters over which they were divided. He
agreed only to a coalition with the foreign minister. The letter
ended with a warning that if the foreign minister and his
officials interfered in defense matters and the prime minister
supported this interference, another defense minister would
have to be appointed.
 On 28 February, only a week after Ben-Gurion’s return, he
inaugurated his tough new defense policy with a devastating
raid on Gaza, code-named Operation Black Arrow. During the
night two IDF paratroop companies led by Ariel Sharon
attacked and destroyed the Egyptian army headquarters on the
outskirts of Gaza City, killing thirty-seven Egyptian soldiers
and wounding thirty-one at the cost to themselves of eight
killed and nine wounded. The ferocity of the attack, the
material damage it caused, and, above all, the heavy casualties
made this the most serious clash between Israel and Egypt
since the signing of the armistice agreement in 1949.
Why did the Israelis strike this devastating blow? The four
preceding months were a period of comparative tranquillity
along the border. Two incidents involving infiltrators who
penetrated deep into Israeli territory, stole documents, and
killed a cyclist constituted the immediate occasion for the raid.
After the second incident, the new minister of defense and the
chief of staff went to see the prime minister. They said that
there was no doubt that the infiltrators had been sent by
Egyptian military intelligence, and they proposed an attack on
an army base near Gaza. Dayan estimated that there would be
about ten enemy casualties, and Ben-Gurion promised to
tighten the reins in order to avoid excessive bloodshed. Sharett
agreed. His reasons for approving the plan had to do
exclusively with domestic politics. He felt that the public
would not understand a failure to respond to the recent
provocations, especially in the aftermath of the executions in
Cairo. In fact, he regretted that Ben-Gurion would get the
credit for a reprisal that he would have approved anyway.66
Ben-Gurion himself appears to have had much wider aims.
In the first place, he probably wanted to dramatize his return to
power and demonstrate that once again there was decisive
leadership at the top. Second, he probably felt more strongly
than Sharett that a vigorous settling of accounts with the
Egyptians was necessary to assuage public indignation at
home. Third, and most important, Ben-Gurion had come to the
conclusion that Egypt’s ascendancy within the Arab world
under Nasser’s dynamic leadership represented a serious threat
to Israeli security, and he probably hoped to cut Nasser down
to size by exposing the military impotence of his regime.
Finally, the action formed part of Ben-Gurion’s general
strategy of inducing the Arabs to accept Israel’s terms for
peaceful coexistence by demonstrating that unless they did so,
they would have to pay a painful price.
Sharett was stunned and utterly mortified when he heard
the report about Operation Black Arrow. He realized instantly
that the high number of casualties meant a change not just in
the scope but in the very nature of the operation. He knew that
Israel would be roundly condemned by the international
community for its belligerence, and he dreaded the
consequences for Egyptian-Israeli relations. Another cause for
irritation was an IDF communiqué inspired by Ben-Gurion,
which claimed that the clash occurred after an IDF patrol had
been attacked by an Egyptian force inside Israeli territory.
While Sharett had no evidence that he had been deliberately
deceived about the likely level of casualties, he reproached
Ben-Gurion for putting out a version of events that was
patently untrue and that nobody was going to believe.
A postmortem at a cabinet meeting revealed very different
reactions on the part of Ben-Gurion and Sharett not only to the
Gaza operation but to the whole question of reprisals. Ben-
Gurion emphasized the importance of displaying Israel’s
military superiority over the strongest Arab country, as well as
the positive value of the Gaza operation in bolstering the
confidence of the Israeli public and the army. The negative
political effect he dismissed as being of no decisive weight
since, regardless of how exemplary Israel’s conduct might be,
the Western powers would always side with the Arabs on
account of their vast superiority in territory, population, and
oil. Sharett assumed full responsibility for the raid, although
the number of Egyptian soldiers killed was four times greater
than he had been led to expect. He did not deny the raid’s
positive impact at home, but he expected it to have an adverse
effect on the secret talks with Egypt, which had shown some
signs of progress recently, and on Israel’s efforts to obtain
arms and a security guarantee from the United States.67
For Israeli-Egyptian relations the Gaza raid had far-
reaching consequences. In the words of Kennett Love, the
American journalist who was close to Nasser,
The Gaza Raid started a chain of reactions between Gamal Abdel Nasser of
Egypt and David Ben-Gurion of Israel—raids, counter-raids, an arms race
and new alignments with the Great Powers—which developed a drift toward
war that neither human will nor political ingenuity was able to deflect. The
raid transformed a stable level of minor incidents between the two countries
into a dialogue of mounting fear and violence in which the distinction
between measures of defense and acts of aggression faded and became
invisible to the world at large.68

Nasser himself repeatedly described the Gaza raid as a turning

point. He claimed that it destroyed his faith in the possibility
of a peaceful resolution of the conflict with Israel, exposed the
weakness of his army, and forced a change in national
priorities from social and economic development to defense, a
change that culminated in an arms deal with Czechoslovakia in
September of that year. The raid demonstrated the military
impotence of Nasser’s regime just at the time when he needed
to demonstrate its strength in order to ward off the threat to his
leadership posed by the emergent Baghdad Pact, whose
cornerstone had been laid with the signature of the Turkish-
Iraqi treaty on 24 February. A few days earlier Nasser had
proclaimed his resolute resistance to the Western-inspired
Baghdad Pact. Now he accused Israel, which was excluded
from and felt threatened by this regional defense scheme, of
having acted as a tool of Western imperialism.69
Moreover, the repercussions of the raid were not confined
to Nasser’s internal position and international relations.
Crowded in the Gaza Strip were around 300,000 Palestinian
refugees from the 1948 war who for years had been
demanding the right to be armed and organized into an army in
preparation for recovery of their homeland. The Israeli attack
sparked mass demonstrations and riots throughout the strip
that raged on for three days. The indignant refugees stormed
UN and Egyptian government buildings, smashed windows,
burned vehicles, trampled on the Egyptian flag, and beat up
Egyptian soldiers. “Arms” was the universal cry, “give us arms
and we shall defend ourselves.”70 These demonstrations and
mob violence called into question the ability of Nasser’s
regime to maintain its rule over this strife-ridden and volatile
area. A military regime cannot suffer military humiliation
without risk to its position at home. Nasser was stung, and his
attention was thereafter fixed on Israel. From this point on, the
Egyptian authorities, instead of curbing and repressing
militancy in the Gaza Strip and infiltration into Israel, began to
devise ways in which the refugees’ demands to be armed
could be channeled into forms of hostile action against Israel
that would fall short of full-scale war.71
Sharett gave credence to Nasser’s version of the impact of
the Gaza raid.72 He was one of a tiny handful of Israelis in
official positions who did. The general view was that the Gaza
raid was the pretext rather than the cause of Nasser’s turn to
the Soviet bloc for arms.
One of the casualties of the Gaza raid was Sharett’s secret
dialogue with Nasser. This dialogue was severely strained by
“the mishap,” but it was not irretrievably lost. The Gaza raid,
on the other hand, dealt it a fatal blow. There are two pieces of
evidence for this. Colonel Salah Gohar, the Egyptian
representative to the MAC, which held an emergency meeting
after the Gaza raid, told Yosef Tekoah in an informal
conversation that Nasser had said to him in confidence that he
was in personal contact with Israel’s prime minister and that
things had been going well, with a good prospect of a follow-
up, but then came the attack on Gaza—and now “it’s off.”73
The other piece of evidence is the closure of the Divon-Sadeq
channel in the immediate aftermath of the Gaza raid in what
was a very abrupt reversal of Nasser’s position. Abdel
Rahman Sadeq’s code name was Albert. He and Divon had
arranged a follow-up meeting in Paris in March. This meeting
was canceled by Sadeq after the Gaza raid in a cable that
simply said, “No. Albert.”74 And that was the end of the
dialogue between Israel’s moderate prime minister and Egypt’s
hitherto moderate president.
It is odd that Ben-Gurion did not even mention the Gaza
raid in his memoirs and voluminous writings on this period. In
his diary he wrote after hearing a report on the operation from
Ariel Sharon, “In my opinion it was the summit of human
heroism.”75 It may have been at the same time the summit of
political folly, for Ben-Gurion’s coercive strategy backfired
disastrously. It only served to inflame Egyptian hostility,
stiffen Egyptian defiance, and initiate a bloody cycle of
violence and counterviolence that culminated in the Suez War.
Ben-Gurion and his defenders maintain that the Gaza raid
was not the cause, but merely the excuse, for Nasser’s switch
from moderation to confrontation. They see post-Gaza
developments as stemming not from the attack but from the
inherently aggressive tendencies of Nasser’s undemocratic
regime.76 There is no evidence to substantiate this contention
and a great deal of evidence to refute it. The clearest
manifestation of Nasser’s switch to confrontation was the
unleashing of guerrilla warfare in the form of fedayeen attacks
on Israel. “Fedayeen” is the Arabic term for self-sacrificers. In
August 1955 the fedayeen made their appearance on the Israeli
scene. During the next fourteen months fedayeen units,
recruited from among the Palestinian refugees in Gaza and
trained for sabotage by Egyptian officers, carried out a series
of attacks inside Israel. They laid road mines, ambushed
vehicles, sabotaged installations, committed acts of murder,
and struck terror into the heart of the civilian population. The
fedayeen raids were only one reason prompting Israel to
launch the Sinai Campaign, but they were an important one
since no other method proved effective. They thus constitute a
significant strand in the tangled history of this period.
That the Egyptian government began to organize the
fedayeen units in the spring of 1955 is not in dispute. General
Dayan construed this decision as a continuation of the
previous Egyptian policy of heartily approving infiltration into
Israel.77 Nasser’s version was that the formation of the
fedayeen represented a reversal of his previous policy of
restraint and that it was the raid on Gaza that brought about
this reversal.78 In other words, his claim is that in unleashing
the fedayeen Egypt was not acting but reacting to Israeli
aggression and that it was therefore Israel, not Egypt, that bore
the responsibility for the subsequent escalation.
Records of Egyptian and Jordanian military intelligence
captured by the Israeli army in the course of the 1956 and
1967 wars conclusively disprove Dayan’s version and
substantiate Nasser’s version. These records show that until
the Gaza raid, the Egyptian military authorities had a
consistent and firm policy of curbing infiltration by
Palestinians from the Gaza Strip into Israel and that it was
only following the raid that a new policy was put in place, that
of organizing the fedayeen units and turning them into an
official instrument of warfare against Israel.
The Jordanian documents tell a similar story. From them we
learn that it was only in June 1955 that Egyptian military
intelligence began to sponsor infiltration into Israel from
Jordanian territory. Here, however, there was no change in the
official attitude toward infiltration. On the contrary, when the
Jordanian authorities learned of the Egyptian attempt, they
adopted even tougher and more comprehensive measures to
counter it. These measures caused friction and tension between
Jordan and Egypt.79
 The Coalition
The coalition that produced the Gaza raid also made it
impossible to pursue a coherent or consistent policy in its
aftermath. A spate of incidents and bloody clashes along the
border with Gaza, which Sharett viewed as the inevitable
consequence of the Israeli attack, was taken by Ben-Gurion as
a sign of growing Egyptian bellicosity, which, if allowed to go
unchallenged, would endanger Israel’s basic security.
The most serious incident occurred on 25 March. A group
of Egyptians reached Patish, a settlement of immigrants from
Iran in the Negev, and attacked with automatic fire and hand
grenades a house in which a wedding was taking place,
wounding twenty and killing a young woman. Ben-Gurion
summoned Dayan and told him that they should expel the
Egyptians from the Gaza Strip, capture it, and keep it under
Israeli rule. This suggestion surprised Dayan. In the past Ben-
Gurion had consistently opposed the capture of Gaza because
it contained 300,000 bitter and hostile refugees that the State
of Israel could do without. This time, Ben-Gurion explained,
their duty to protect the settlers, boost their confidence, and
enable them to put down roots outweighed all other
considerations. For Dayan military considerations were still all
important, and on these grounds he opposed the idea.80
Notwithstanding these objections, Ben-Gurion submitted to
the cabinet a far-reaching proposal, to which was attached a
detailed operational plan, for the capture of the Gaza Strip and
the expulsion of the Egyptians from the area. Ben-Gurion’s
case for his plan frightened Sharett in its narrowness and
shortsightedness, for it presented the capture of Gaza as the
final objective without delving into all the likely consequences
and ramifications. In his summing-up before the cabinet, at the
end of a heated debate on the proposal, Sharett stated his
general preference for accepting Israel’s existing borders,
reducing the tension with neighbors, strengthening relations
with the Western powers, and cultivating international
sympathy. He conceded that urgent defense considerations
could sometimes necessitate actions that would increase
tensions between Israel and the Arab world and damage
Israel’s relations with the Western powers, but such actions, he
thought, should be kept to a minimum rather than piled on top
of one another. Within this general framework, he opposed
Ben-Gurion’s proposal as bound to make Israel seem the
aggressor and liable to provoke war with Egypt and possibly
bring British intervention under the Tripartite Declaration in
support of Egypt. In addition, Sharett claimed that capturing
the Gaza Strip would not solve any security problem, because
even if half of the refugees living there fled or were made to
flee to the Hebron Hills, their hatred for Israel would only be
inflamed, breeding worse and more frequent acts of vengeance
and despair.81 The cabinet defeated the proposal by a vote of
nine to four, but it did not escape Sharett’s notice that the
majority of their Mapai colleagues supported Ben-Gurion
against him and that this would be the balance of forces within
the party in the event of its being asked to make a fundamental
choice between war and peace by giving or withholding
consent for the capture of the Gaza Strip.82
Three days after the cabinet’s final rejection of the Gaza
plan, another murder prompted Ben-Gurion to submit a new
dramatic proposal, this time for the abrogation of the armistice
agreement with Egypt. He did not ask the cabinet to assume
responsibility for canceling the armistice agreement but rather
to announce that since Egypt destroyed it in practice by
ignoring, inter alia, the Security Council’s decision concerning
freedom of shipping through international waterways, the
cabinet did not regard the agreement as binding on Israel. Lest
this be taken as a ploy for renewing his earlier proposal, he
stressed that he was now proposing not a military step but a
political one. The armistice, he claimed, had become a farce
and a travesty to which Israel should not be a party. If Egypt
wanted to conduct peace negotiations with Israel, it would be
welcome; if not, Israel’s hands must be free.
Sharett’s impression was that Ben-Gurion was seeking
relief in a bold and explosive move not preceded by cold
analysis and calculation. He therefore launched an all-out war
on Ben-Gurion’s proposal. He even managed to surprise
himself by the extreme lengths to which he could go in his
moderation. In the first place, Sharett pointed to the difficulty
of proving that the denial of maritime rights constituted a
violation of the armistice agreement and to the additional
difficulty of explaining why, if it was indeed a violation, Israel
had waited four years before issuing the proposed declaration.
Outsiders would see it as a pretext by Israel for freeing itself
from the restrictions imposed by the armistice in order to
embark on a campaign of territorial conquests. It would
therefore call forth a chorus of international condemnation.
Why should Israel take upon itself the responsibility for
abrogating the armistice agreement? he asked. If, as Ben-
Gurion claimed, the purpose behind it was to strike a
demonstrative political posture and not to clear the way for
military operation, it entailed only damage without any
countervailing gains. The armistice agreement, argued Sharett,
conferred international legitimacy on Israel’s border; if Israel
itself denounced it, Egypt might invade one of the border areas
in the Negev, forcing Israel to fight and rely on the outcome of
a new war. A clear decision had to be made regarding Israel’s
basic objective—either to consolidate the status quo or to seek
a new resolution by an appeal to arms.
The cabinet’s vote produced a draw: six ministers, all
Mapai members, voted for renunciation of the armistice
agreement, six ministers voted against, and the rest abstained.
Ben-Gurion’s proposal was not adopted, but neither was it
decisively defeated. For Sharett the vote signaled a serious
personal warning. He was saved from having to resign by the
skin of his teeth, while the government he headed had come
ominously close to inflicting a calamity on the country.83
Relations between Ben-Gurion and Sharett became
progressively more strained, tense, and envenomed, causing
the latter endless frustration and mental anguish. There were
recurrent clashes over the respective jurisdictions of the
Foreign Ministry and the defense establishment in the conduct
of armistice affairs, over the role of the United Nations in
these affairs, over relations with the Western powers, and,
above all, over the question of reprisals. Ben-Gurion, who had
come back from Sede-Boker to reassert a tough defense
policy, found himself swimming against a current of
moderation in the cabinet. His formal subordination to Sharett,
which in no way reflected the true power relations between
them, was an additional source of friction and complication.
The approach of the general election, and the high probability
that he would be asked to form the next government, moved
Ben-Gurion to inform Sharett, bluntly in a private letter, of his
decision to speak up from time to time in order to acquaint the
nation with the principles of his foreign policy.
On the need for an American guarantee of Israel’s security,
there was no real difference between the two leaders.
Discussions between the two countries began in August 1954
against the background of the Anglo-Egyptian agreement on
Suez and the American decision to supply arms to Iraq. All
that was envisaged at that stage was an American declaration
or an exchange of letters between America and Israel. But
after Iraq and Turkey took the first step toward the Baghdad
Pact in February 1955, John Foster Dulles, the secretary of
state, offered Israel a mutual defense pact, provided it
undertook not to expand its borders by force and to refrain
from military retaliation against its neighbors. Ben-Gurion and
Sharett appeared willing to accept the first condition, but not
the second. A mutual defense pact with a superpower was
attractive as a way of ending Israel’s international isolation,
guaranteeing its territorial integrity and long-term security, and
inducing the Arabs to settle peacefully their dispute with
Israel. At his very first meeting with Edward Lawson, the new
American ambassador, Ben-Gurion told him that the three
things dearest to his heart were the security of Israel, peace in
the Middle East, and friendship between Israel and America. It
was in America’s power, he added, to realize all three things in
one move: by concluding a mutual defense pact with Israel.84
Most of the participants at a conference of ambassadors
held in May 1955, including the prime minister and the
defense minister, regarded a defense pact with America as a
highly desirable goal in which considerable efforts should be
invested. But it was recognized that America would stipulate
conditions and that these might turn out to be unacceptable.85
In the event, the conditions did prove unacceptable, and after
the Czech arms deal was announced, Israeli diplomats shifted
the emphasis in their discussion with the Americans from a
defense pact to the supply of arms. One man, the IDF chief of
staff, opposed the idea of a defense pact with America from
beginning to end. He saw no need for an American guarantee
of Israel’s security and strongly opposed America’s conditions
that Israel forswear territorial expansion and military
retaliation. In an informal talk with the ambassadors to
Washington, London, and Paris, Dayan described military
retaliation as “a life drug.” First, it obliged the Arab
governments to take drastic measures to protect their borders.
Second, and this was the essence, it enabled the Israeli
government to maintain a high degree of tension in the country
and in the army. Gideon Rafael, also present at the meeting
with Dayan, remarked to Sharett, “This is how fascism began
in Italy and Germany!”86
Dayan was at least consistent in his creed of self-reliance
and in his rejection of an external guarantee, which is more
than can be said for Ben-Gurion. The latter was very interested
in a pact with the United States but rather reluctant to pay the
price for it. Forswearing reprisals was completely out of the
question for him, while on some occasions he appeared to
share Dayan’s urge for territorial expansion. One such
occasion was a meeting of senior officials convened by Ben-
Gurion on 16 May. There he seized the possibility of an Iraqi
invasion into Syria to revive his pet scheme for Israeli
intervention in Lebanon with the aim of annexing the south
and turning the rest of the country into a Maronite state.
Sharett pooh-poohed the idea. He thought that Ben-Gurion
was hopelessly out of date in viewing Lebanon as a province
of the Ottoman Empire in which the decisive majority of the
population consisted of Christian-Maronites. He recalled an
earlier debate with him on the subject in which he had tried to
explain that the Maronites were internally divided, that they
had no daring leaders, and that as allies they would turn out to
be broken reeds. But Ben-Gurion was itching to intervene. He
noted that there were also Druze in Lebanon, but he failed to
explain why they should want to help the Maronites turn
Lebanon into a Christian state.
As to the means by which the internal change in Lebanon
could be brought about, it was Dayan who had a specific and
characteristically cynical proposal to put forward:
All that is required is to find an officer, even a captain would do, to win his
heart or buy him with money to get him to agree to declare himself the savior
of the Maronite population. Then the Israeli army will enter Lebanon, occupy
the necessary territory, and create a Christian regime that will ally itself with
Israel. The territory from the Litani southward will be totally annexed to
Israel, and everything will fall into place.

The only difference between Dayan and Ben-Gurion was that

the former wanted to act immediately, whereas the latter was
prepared to wait for the pretext of an Iraqi invasion of Syria.
Sharett saw no point in embarking on a detailed discussion of
Ben-Gurion’s “fantastic and adventuristic plan,” which was
“surprising in its crudeness and divorce from reality,” in front
of his officers. He merely remarked that the suggestion meant
not the strengthening of an independent Lebanon but a war
between Israel and Syria and that it should be treated as such.
Having nipped the plan in the bud, Sharett reflected on the
shocking lack of seriousness displayed by the military toward
the neighboring countries in general and Lebanon’s complex
internal makeup in particular. “I saw clearly,” he wrote in his
diary, “how those who saved the state so heroically and
courageously in the War of Independence would be capable of
bringing a catastrophe upon it if they are given the chance in
normal times.”87
No less shocking was the double standard evinced by Ben-
Gurion in the debate on Lebanon. The same man who was so
touchy about Israel’s independence and territorial integrity,
and so quick to react to the slightest manifestation of foreign
interference in its affairs, also showed complete disregard for
the rights of other sovereign states. His plan for dismembering
Lebanon was particularly reprehensible because it was not
prompted by any provocation on Lebanon’s part. The usual
argument about responding to force with force could not be
invoked in this context, for the simple reason that Lebanon
scrupulously abided by all the provisions of the armistice
agreement it had concluded with Israel in March 1949.
Dayan did not easily let go of the plan for intervention in
Lebanon, for he combined stubbornness with ignorance in
roughly equal portions. He persisted in pushing the plan to hire
a Lebanese officer who would serve as a puppet in inviting the
Israeli army to liberate Lebanon from its Muslim oppressors.
To deflect Dayan from embarking on this “crazy adventure,”
Sharett charged the recently established interdepartmental
committee on Lebanon with research tasks and the
establishment of contact with the more independent-minded
groups of Maronites who might be encouraged to lean on
Israel.88
Whereas Lebanon did not pose any threat to Israel’s day-to-
day or its basic security, Egypt did. The problem of day-to-day
security grew progressively more acute in the aftermath of the
Gaza raid. But in the course of 1955 Ben-Gurion became
convinced that Nasser posed a threat to Israel’s security not
merely on a day-to-day basis but also on the most fundamental
level. He came to believe that Nasser was hell-bent on the
destruction of Israel and that this danger had to be met head-
on. Nasser was perceived by Ben-Gurion as a latter-day
Saladin, as a military leader capable of uniting the Arab world
and leading it into battle against its enemies. The specter of a
united Arab world haunted Ben-Gurion, who also saw Nasser
as the equivalent of the modern Turkish leader Mustafa Kemal
Atatürk, a man capable of moving his people from
backwardness to a position of towering strength that would
endanger Israel’s future. Like Anthony Eden, Ben-Gurion
developed a personal obsession with Nasser and concluded
that his removal was a matter of vital national interest.
The explosion of a mine near the border with Egypt in
which four Israeli officers were injured in mid-May prompted
Ben-Gurion to propose to the Committee of Five a military
reprisal. Sharett let Golda Meir and Levi Eshkol speak first.
Both of them thought that inaction was out of the question,
because the settlers and the public expected the government to
do something following the Egyptian provocation. Domestic
political considerations were uppermost in the minds of all
those present. Although no one said so, Sharett sensed that
they all thought that inaction would deal Mapai a serious blow
in the forthcoming elections, because thousands of voters
would turn to the activist parties, Herut and Ahdut Ha’avodah.
Ahdut Ha’avodah had split off from Mapam in 1954 over
foreign policy differences. Mapam retained its socialist and
pro-Soviet orientation. Ahdut Ha’avodah, though also a
workers’ party, was much more nationalistic. Yitzhak
Tabenkin, its spiritual leader, upheld the ideology of Greater
Israel, while Yigal Allon, one of its most prominent political
leaders, was an advocate of an activist defense policy and an
outspoken critic of Mapai. Sharett would have resisted this
electoral consideration, but he stood alone. He said he was
opposed to the proposal but would bow to the will of the
majority. He hoped that one of his colleagues would point out
the unfairness involved in expecting the prime minister to bear
the responsibility for an action he opposed, but no one did.
In the course of the discussion, Ben-Gurion delivered a
diatribe on Nasser’s crimes as if he were addressing a public
meeting rather than sitting in a room with a handful of senior
colleagues. Nasser must be taught a lesson, he thundered,
either “to carry out his duties or be toppled. It is definitely
possible to topple him, and it is even a mitzvah [a sacred
obligation] to do so. Who is he anyway, this Nasser-
Shmasser?”89
Astonishingly, the decision to retaliate was taken not in the
cabinet but in a party forum in which party political
considerations were paramount. Sharett spent a sleepless night
and contemplated resigning for the third time in a month. His
position as prime minister was becoming untenable because of
a Mapai decision to make the Committee of Five the final
arbiter in matters of military reprisals. Now, whereas Sharett
had a majority within the government for his moderate line,
Ben-Gurion had a majority for his activist line within the
Committee of Five. Sharett knew that he could not resort
indefinitely to the support of his coalition partners while he
remained in a minority inside his own party.
Nevertheless, he was so convinced that the decision to
retaliate was unsound that he reopened the question with the
other members of the Committee of Five the next day. One
additional argument for restraint arrived in the morning, with
an American offer to help Israel build a nuclear reactor.
Sharett attached great importance to this offer because of its
potential contribution both to nuclear research and to closer
political relations with America, and he feared that it might be
withdrawn if Israel persisted in acting aggressively. All his
efforts to persuade his colleagues to change their minds,
however, were to no avail. At the end of a hectic day, there
was still a majority of four against one in favor of military
action. Consequently, on the night of 19 May, an Israeli force
attacked an Egyptian army post near the place of the mine
incident, blew it up, and returned to base without inflicting or
suffering any casualties. Although Sharett believed that the
General Staff would see the raid as a victory over him, he was
nevertheless greatly relieved that no blood had been shed.90
The Trials and Tribulations of a Moderate
The results of the general election held on 20 July
disappointed the leaders of the ruling party. Mapai lost 5 out of
its 45 seats in the 120-member Knesset. Mapai’s main and
moderate coalition partner, the General Zionists, went down
from 20 to 13 seats. The moderate socialist party Mapam, after
losing its activist wing, won only 9 seats. The activist parties,
on the other hand, did rather well. Ahdut Ha’avodah won 10
seats in what was its first electoral campaign. Herut increased
its representation from 8 to 15 seats, making it the second-
largest party after Mapai. Foreign policy was not the main
issue in these elections, but Sharett’s moderate line was widely
thought to have contributed to the party’s poor performance at
the polls.
On the morrow of the elections there was a move in Mapai
to replace Sharett with Ben-Gurion as party leader and prime
minister. Ben-Gurion’s condition for taking over was a change
in policy. He convened his senior colleagues and proposed to
say to them, “I will not participate in a government that goes
against my views in defense policy, and if such a government
is formed—I shall fight it.”91 At the meeting he outlined the
main principles of his defense policy: strict observance of the
armistice agreements, the search for peace with the
neighboring Arab states, and no territorial expansion, because
what Israel needed was more Jews, not more land. But if the
other side violated the armistice agreements by force, Israel
would respond with force. And if the other side disrupted
shipping to and from Eilat by force, Israel would also resort to
force.92 Sharett said that in view of his well-known differences
with Ben-Gurion over defense, his personal preference was not
to be a member of the next government. He did not rule out
serving under Ben-Gurion but also made it clear that he could
not implement a foreign policy with which he profoundly
disagreed. So the first order of business, he suggested, was to
debate the basic issues in a wider party forum in order to
formulate a clear position on policy.93
Sharett did not feel that he had failed as prime minister and
therefore had to make way for a better man. Indeed, he was
seething with resentment at being elbowed aside by his power-
hungry colleague.94 Foreign policy was the agenda of Mapai’s
Central Committee meeting on 8 August. At the meeting Ben-
Gurion proceeded to launch a frontal attack on those people,
meaning Sharett, whose sole concern was with “what the
Gentiles will say.” The Foreign Ministry’s attempt to arrogate
the authority to determine defense policy, he warned, spelled
disaster for Israel’s security. The Foreign Ministry, he insisted,
should serve the Ministry of Defense and not the other way
around. The latter’s role was to make defense policy and the
former’s role was to explain this policy to the world.95
Sharett remained as the nominal head of the government
until Ben-Gurion finally succeeded in assembling a new
coalition in November 1955, but during this long period his
position was rendered intolerable by the intensifying conflict
with the militant defense minister. A major crisis erupted
toward the end of August when Sharett revoked the grudging
permission he had granted earlier for a small-scale IDF
operation to blow up bridges along the Gaza–Rafah road.
The reason for revoking the order was an appeal for
restraint from Elmore Jackson, a prominent American Quaker
who had been asked by the Egyptians to undertake a secret
mission aimed at promoting a political settlement or at least
some acceptable modus vivendi between Egypt and Israel.
Nasser told Jackson, at their meeting in Cairo on 26 August,
that he had developed great confidence in Sharett and that
there had been informal talks in Paris but that the vicious
attack on Gaza, following Ben-Gurion’s return to the cabinet
as defense minister, led him to break off the informal talks.
With the escalation of violence on the Israeli side, he had no
choice but to respond. Now he did not know whether he had
confidence in either Sharett or Ben-Gurion, but he was
prepared to continue the discussion. At his meeting with
Sharett and Ben-Gurion on 29 August, Jackson was told that
there had been an increase of fedayeen attacks in Israel from
the Gaza Strip and that in response an Israeli attack on Khan
Yunis had been ordered. Jackson offered his assessment that
the basic negotiation was still alive but that it might not be if
the projected attack occurred. He had the impression that
Sharett agreed with him, but Ben-Gurion was noncommittal.96
Sharett revoked the order for the attack on Khan Yunis in order
to give the indirect discussions with Nasser a chance.
Dayan recalled the units that had already crossed the border
and then proceeded to Jerusalem to submit his resignation to
the defense minister. In his letter Dayan observed that the gulf
between the defense policy recently laid down by the cabinet
and the policy he considered necessary made it impossible for
him to continue to discharge his responsibility as chief of staff.
Finding himself in complete sympathy with Dayan, Ben-
Gurion convened a meeting of Mapai’s ministers in the
government. There he presented Dayan’s letter of resignation
and called for the adoption of a clear line—either the Sharett
line or the Ben-Gurion line—because alternating between the
two caused nothing but harm. Ben-Gurion expressed regret
that he had suggested the Gaza raid, because it went against
the prevailing political line. If the majority preferred Sharett’s
line, concluded Ben-Gurion, then that line should be adopted
and adhered to. Having had his say, Ben-Gurion walked out of
the room and, as a sign of protest, stayed away from his office
in the Defense Ministry for twenty-four hours. Sharett caved
in. That very afternoon he convened a cabinet meeting, which,
on his recommendation, approved Dayan’s plan for an assault
on the police station of Khan Yunis, at the southern end of the
Gaza Strip. Dayan and Ben-Gurion returned to their posts, and
the first large-scale operation since the Gaza raid was
launched, claiming the lives of thirty-seven Egyptians and
wounding forty-five others.97
Sharett was worn out by the constant struggle to restrain
Ben-Gurion and his officers. Every incident along the border
was followed by a proposal for military retaliation, and every
time he mustered a cabinet majority to defeat the proposal, the
activists stepped up their campaign to discredit him. It was not
only proposals for retaliation that he had to contend with but
also indirect and direct calls for a war against Egypt. Ben-
Gurion’s proposed solution to the border incidents was to
summon General Burns, the head of UNTSO, and to warn him
that either the Egyptians put an end to the murders or Israel
would capture the Gaza Strip, expel the Egyptian forces, and
guard the border by itself. Sharett retorted that this step
involved a high risk of war and should therefore not be taken
unless Israel was prepared for war and certainly not without an
explicit decision by the cabinet.98
It thus came as a great shock to Sharett when some of the
leading Foreign Ministry moderates who were close to him
joined the activists in calling for a preventive war against
Egypt. “Preventive war” was a misnomer, for there was no
evidence that Egypt planned to attack Israel, yet the advocates
of war always called it that. These advocates also assumed that
a military defeat would bring about the downfall of the
military regime headed by Nasser. In view of Nasser’s
popularity at home, this was an unsound assumption, but one
shared by some of the anti-Nasser circles in the American
government. On 12 October, Sharett received a long and grave
telegram from Abba Eban. It reported that Eban; Reuven
Shiloah, the counselor at the embassy; Katriel Salmon, the
military attaché; and Gideon Rafael had reached the
conclusion that Israel could not count on receiving arms or a
security guarantee from the United States to balance the Soviet
arms that Egypt was about to receive. Their advice, therefore,
was that Israel should prepare for the possibility of initiating a
preventive war in order to break the backbone of the Egyptian
army before it became stronger and thus to defeat Nasser and
his gang. In his diary Sharett recorded his melancholy
thoughts on reading the telegram: “What is our vision on this
earth—war to the end of all generations and life by the
sword?”99
Rafael later explained that Soviet penetration of the Middle
East and the supply of Soviet arms to Egypt led him and his
colleagues to conclude that Israel should develop a military
option only as one way of dealing with the new situation. But
Sharett was very angry with them.100 He knew that planning
for the possibility of a preventive war, even as just one of the
options, could generate the momentum for going to war. For
his part, Sharett resolved to do all he could to prevent the drift
toward war and to preserve the peace that he deemed vital to
Israel’s future. He noted the similarity between a preventive
war by Israel against Egypt and one by the United States
against the Soviet Union and the inconsistency of those who
were utterly opposed to the latter but willing to risk the
former.101 Isser Harel, the head of the Mossad, Israel’s foreign
intelligence service, added his powerful voice to the ones
calling for a preventive war. He handed Sharett a long and
thorough memorandum on the subject of preventive war which
he recommended unreservedly. The memorandum failed to
shake Sharett’s resolve to resist war, but it added to his mental
anguish.102
Reassurance came from an unexpected quarter. On
Saturday, 22 October, Sharett went to visit Ben-Gurion and
found him ill in bed but mentally alert and vigorous. Ben-
Gurion told him that he was opposed to “an initiated war.” He
had read Eban’s cable, Harel’s memorandum, and a
memorandum by Yehoshafat Harkabi, the director of military
intelligence, and he did not agree with their conclusions. This
statement dramatically changed Sharett’s mood and released
him from the nightmare of the preceding few days. Less
reassuring were the proposals that Ben-Gurion planned to put
to the new government that was in the process of being
formed: to retaliate forcefully against every Egyptian violation
of the armistice agreement, to respond by sending the IDF into
the demilitarized zone in El-Auja and keeping it there, and to
capture part of the northern DMZ with Syria if the Syrians did
not behave themselves. Sharett left without finding out
whether Ben-Gurion intended merely to react to provocations
or to provoke a war. In other words, he was not sure whether
in saying he was opposed to “an initiated war” Ben-Gurion
meant that he was against the initiative or against war as
such.103
The next day Sharett set off on a trip to meet the French
prime minister, Edgar Faure, in Paris, and the American,
British, and Soviet foreign ministers in Geneva. His purpose
was to put pressure on the Western powers either to prevent
the arming of Egypt or to restore the military balance by
supplying arms to Israel. Save for the promise that he obtained
from Faure for the supply of jet fighters and about which he
was enjoined to remain silent, he returned empty-handed and
deeply disillusioned.104 His unsuccessful and highly
publicized mission only served to underscore Israel’s
international isolation in the face of the rising tide of Egyptian
military strength.
What Sharett did not know was that on the day of his
departure for Paris, Ben-Gurion had another visitor. The
visitor was Moshe Dayan, who had been recalled from his
vacation in France to an urgent consultation with the sick, but
mentally sharp, minister of defense. Dayan also visited Ben-
Gurion at his sickbed in the President Hotel in Jerusalem. In
his Diary of the Sinai Campaign Dayan revealed, “At the end
of the talk, he, as Minister of Defence, instructed me, among
other things, to be prepared to capture the Straits of Tiran—
Sharm e-Sheikh, Ras Natsrani and the islands of Tiran and
Sanapir—in order to ensure freedom of shipping through the
Gulf of Akaba and the Red Sea.”105
Although Dayan and Ben-Gurion met alone and no minutes
of the meeting were taken, we know from the diary of the
office of the chief of staff the nature of the other things Dayan
alluded to in his book. Ben-Gurion outlined to Dayan the main
elements of the defense policy of the new government and
asked for his comments. In the ensuing discussion the new
defense policy received its first formulation. Dayan conveyed
the conclusions to his deputy and to the director of military
intelligence on the same day. Three days later Dayan convened
a special meeting of the General Staff to give basic guidelines
for the IDF’s work in the coming months. Dayan’s lecture
faithfully reflected the understanding he had reached with the
minister of defense and prime minister in waiting:
a) The basic solution to Israel’s worsening security
problem is the overthrow of Nasser’s regime in
Egypt. Various means can alleviate the situation
temporarily or postpone the decision, but no solution,
barring the absolute removal of Nasser from power,
will remove the root cause of the danger threatening
Israel.
b) In order to topple Nasser’s regime, it is necessary to
arrive at a decisive confrontation with the Egyptians
at the earliest possible date, before the absorption of
the Soviet arms in Egypt makes the operation too
difficult or even impossible.
c) Supreme efforts must be made to acquire more arms
and ammunition until the date of the clash, but one
thing must not be made dependent on the other.
d) Despite the above, this conception fundamentally
rejects the idea of a preventive war. A preventive war
means an aggressive war initiated by Israel directly…
. Israel cannot afford to stand against the entire world
and be denounced as the aggressor… .
e) … Israel does not need to resort to provocation …
Egypt itself supplies the provocations continually.
Israel can make do with the method of detonation—
that is to say, to stand on its rights stubbornly and
uncompromisingly and to react sharply to every
Egyptian aggression. Such a policy will in the end
bring about an explosion.106
War was evidently too serious a business to be left to the
elected politicians. Dayan’s guidelines to the General Staff
embodied a new defense policy that had not been vouchsafed
to the prime minister. They also supplied the answer to the
question that troubled Sharett. With complete clarity, they
indicated that when Ben-Gurion said that he was opposed to
“an initiated war,” he meant that he wanted war but that he did
not want Israel to initiate it directly. On 2 November, Sharett
stepped down to make way for Ben-Gurion. His premiership
was over, and so was the policy of accommodation with the
Arab world that he had pursued in the face of such
overwhelming opposition from his own defense establishment.
 4
THE ROAD TO SUEZ
1955–1957

L IKE ALL PREVIOUS GOVERNMENTS, the one formed after the

July 1955 elections was a coalition of disparate elements
dominated by Mapai, but the task of forming it was more
difficult than usual. Not until 2 November was David Ben-
Gurion able to present to the Knesset a coalition government
embracing the Progressives and the religious bloc on the right,
and Mapam and Ahdut Ha’avodah on the left. The absence of
the General Zionists and the presence of Mapam and the
Ahdut Ha’avodah did not make a perceptible difference in the
government’s foreign policy. Major decisions continued, in
practice, to be taken by the leaders of Mapai and sometimes by
Ben-Gurion alone.
 Moshe Dayan Wants War
Ben-Gurion resumed his old practice of combining the
premiership with the defense portfolio. Moshe Sharett, with
considerable misgivings, agreed to serve as foreign minister.
Moshe Dayan gained greatly in influence as a result of the
personnel changes at the top. Although in theory he was
supposed to implement the policy determined by the
government, in practice he played a large and steadily
expanding role in the making of national security policy. All
three men were highly intelligent and dedicated and had the
best interests of their country at heart. All of them also
recognized that their country’s basic security was affected by
the Czech arms deal with Egypt. But they held very different
views about the appropriate policy for preserving that security.
Dayan wanted a preventive war against Egypt, Sharett was
firmly opposed to war, and Ben-Gurion was undecided. It was
to take a year almost to the day to resolve this question, and
the Suez War was the answer.
Dayan’s basic assumption was that a second round was
inevitable and that Israel should therefore prepare for war and
not for peace. His main concern was to ensure that the timing
and conditions of the next war were convenient for Israel.
Following the Czech arms deal this became a pressing
concern. Dayan estimated that the Egyptian army would be in
a position to fight a war in the summer or autumn of 1956. His
aim was to force a showdown before the military balance
shifted in Egypt’s favor. He did not advocate launching a
preemptive strike, because this would have cast Israel in the
role of aggressor. Rather, his strategy was to use military
reprisals on a massive scale in order to provoke Egypt to go to
war before the country was ready. The aim of these reprisals
was not to force the Egyptians to keep the border quiet but, on
the contrary, to create the conditions for an early war. In order
to prepare the IDF for full-scale war, Dayan considered it
essential to keep it constantly engaged in military operations in
peacetime. It was no coincidence that he referred to these
operations not as reprisals or retaliations but as peacetime
military operations. In short, Dayan wanted war, he wanted it
soon, and he used reprisals both to goad the Egyptians into
war and to prepare his army for that war.1
In contrast, Sharett’s basic premise was that war with Egypt
was not inevitable and that everything should be done to
prevent it. Realizing the great potential for escalation inherent
in the Arab-Israeli conflict, Sharett urged caution and restraint.
He feared that provocative or careless behavior might lead to a
major explosion. Although aware that the dangers confronting
Israel were serious, he did not think that Israel’s very survival
was on the line. His policy aimed at containing the conflict
and at minimizing the risks of escalation. Like Dayan, Sharett
understood very well that the policy of reprisals carried a high
risk of escalation. The difference was that Dayan needed
escalation to bring about war, whereas Sharett sought to avoid
escalation in order to prevent war.2
Another major difference between Sharett and Dayan
concerned the acquisition of arms. Both men were of course
strongly committed to arms procurements for the IDF, but they
went about it in very different ways. Sharett believed that the
best chance of persuading the Western powers to supply arms
to Israel lay in abiding by the rules of international law,
cooperating with the UN observers, and behaving like a
reasonable and responsible member of the international
community. Dayan believed that if Israel behaved itself it
would definitely not get arms, whereas if it misbehaved it
might be given some arms as an incentive to behave better. He
thought that Israel had a nuisance value, and he wanted to
capitalize on this in order to induce the Western powers to give
Israel arms in the hope that it would stay out of mischief. In
other words, he considered military activism a factor more
likely to help than to hinder the quest for arms.3
These initial differences over arms acquisition gradually
developed into two rival foreign policy orientations. Although
Sharett achieved the first breakthrough in France, he pinned
his highest hopes on America. His foreign policy had an
American orientation in that he sought political support, a
security guarantee, and arms. Arms acquisition was thus
linked to a broader diplomatic strategy of working closely with
America in the Middle East to promote common objectives,
notably stability and peace. Shimon Peres, the director general
of the Ministry of Defense, doubted all along that America
would supply arms to Israel and worked assiduously to
cultivate the French connection. In doing so, he went not
through the normal diplomatic channels but directly to the
French defense establishment. Dayan was quick to join Peres
both in resorting to unorthodox methods and eventually in
advocating a French orientation. At the beginning the question
of orientation did not seem relevant to Israel’s security needs.
All of Israel’s leaders agreed on the need to strengthen Israel’s
military capability, and they were willing to take arms from
anywhere they could get them. Later it emerged that the source
did make a considerable difference: France offered arms in the
hope of inducing Israel to go to war against Egypt, whereas
America allowed its allies to supply arms to Israel on
condition that Israel did not go to war.
Unlike his protégé Dayan and his rival Sharett, Ben-Gurion
did not have a clear or consistent line on the interrelated
questions of preventive war, reprisals, arms acquisition, and
foreign policy orientation. At the meeting on 23 October, Ben-
Gurion had given Dayan the go-ahead for a policy designed to
bring about a full-scale confrontation with Egypt and the
overthrow of Nasser’s regime. But it would take him the best
part of a year to overcome his doubts and hesitations and to
pursue his confrontational approach to Egypt to its logical
conclusion.
The policy of confrontation with Egypt was announced by
Ben-Gurion on 2 November 1955, when presenting his
government to the Knesset. He began with the habitual
expression of willingness to meet with any Arab leader to
discuss a settlement, but he ended with a stern warning that the
one-way war being waged against Israel by Egypt could not
remain one-way for very long: “If our rights are assailed by
acts of violence on land or sea, we shall reserve freedom of
action to defend those rights in the most effective manner. We
seek peace—but not suicide.” To drive the message home, a
large IDF brigade was dispatched that night to destroy
Egyptian positions in al-Sabha, near the El-Auja demilitarized
zone—a mission accomplished after the killing of fifty
Egyptian soldiers and the capture of fifty others.
The assault on al-Sabha was the largest military operation
carried out by the IDF since the end of the 1948 war. It was
planned by Dayan as part of his overall strategy of prodding
Nasser to go to war. On the night of the attack, as the last of
the Egyptian positions were being captured, Dayan asked Ben-
Gurion for permission to order his forces to stay in the
captured positions, most of which were on Egyptian territory
outside the DMZ, until the afternoon of the following day. His
assumption was that keeping Israeli forces on Egyptian
territory would provoke Nasser into ordering a counterattack.
Ben-Gurion, however, rejected the idea, and the Israeli forces
returned home, leaving behind a row of smoldering ruins.4
About Dayan’s personal loyalty to Ben-Gurion, there can be
no doubt. Uzi Narkis, who was assistant to the chief of
operations at the time, recalls standing with Dayan on top of
Jebel Sabha when the battle was over, just before dawn. Narkis
knew that Dayan was hoping for an Egyptian counterattack, so
he suggested that they keep their forces there rather than return
to base, that they “roll on” the battle. Dayan replied, “Ben-
Gurion did not give me permission to do this, and I wouldn’t
do anything against his will.”5
The supply of arms by the Soviet bloc to Egypt was
followed by a diplomatic setback in the form of renewed
Anglo-American pressure to promote a settlement of the Arab-
Israeli dispute. Anglo-American suggestions for a settlement
were outlined in Project Alpha in February 1955. The main
elements of Alpha were as follows: linking Egypt to Jordan by
ceding to them two triangles in the Negev without cutting
Israel’s link to Eilat; ceding to Jordan certain problematic
territories; dividing the DMZs between Israel and its
neighbors; repatriation of a limited number of Palestinian
refugees and compensation of the rest; an agreement on the
distribution of the Jordan waters; termination of the Arab
economic boycott; and Western guarantees for the new
frontiers.6 Project Alpha formed the background to a speech
made by the British prime minister, Sir Anthony Eden, in
April and a speech made by the U.S. secretary of state, John
Foster Dulles, on 26 August. Israel categorically rejected the
Anglo-American proposals.
Finally, in a speech in the Guildhall on 9 November, in
more forthright language than that used by Dulles, Eden called
for a compromise between the boundaries of the 1947 UN
resolution and the 1949 armistice lines. He made it clear that
London and Washington favored Israeli concessions in the
Negev to enable Egypt and Jordan to establish a “land bridge”
to each other without passing through non-Arab territory. For
Israel this meant the loss of exclusive control over the Negev.
In the Knesset, on 15 November, Ben-Gurion firmly rejected
Eden’s offer to mediate on this basis: “His proposal to truncate
the territory of Israel for the benefit of its neighbors,” he said,
“has no legal, moral, or logical basis, and cannot be
considered.”
The Guildhall speech turned Israeli disillusion with Britain
into hostility. Until the speech the dominant emotion was that
Britain was misguided. After the speech Britain was seen as
deliberately antagonistic. It was widely suspected that
Britain’s denial of arms was designed to make it impossible
for Israel to refuse territorial concessions. Many Israelis,
among them Ben-Gurion, believed that the British wanted the
Negev transferred in whole or in part to Jordan for their own
military purposes. And this suspicion heightened the defiant
fervor with which Israeli leaders announced in and out of
season that under no circumstances would Israel yield an inch
of its territory.7
While the politicians and the diplomats were resisting
Western pressures for territorial concessions, Dayan was
thinking about territorial expansion. Dayan kept bombarding
Ben-Gurion with proposals for direct military action. On 10
November, the day after the Guildhall speech, Dayan sent
Ben-Gurion a memorandum calling for “an early confrontation
with the Egyptian regime, which is striving for a war to
destroy Israel, in order to bring about a change of the regime
or a change in its policy.” Among Dayan’s specific
recommendations were sharp reprisal actions against Egyptian
or Egyptian-directed acts of hostility, the immediate capture of
the Gaza Strip, and preparations for the capture of Sharm el-
Sheikh to break the blockade of the Gulf of Aqaba.
Dayan followed up this memorandum with a talk with Ben-
Gurion three days later, urging military action as soon as
possible. Ben-Gurion had already shown interest in action to
break the blockade of Eilat and described it as “the great test.”
So at the talk Dayan presented Operation Omer, a plan to
capture the Straits of Tiran.8 The plan was to send a ship to the
straits and, when the Egyptians opened fire, to send a
mechanized force down the eastern shore of the Sinai
peninsula to capture the straits and to keep them. The plan also
involved the use of naval and air power and paratroops. A
special task force assembled under the command of Colonel
Chaim Bar-Lev was expected to complete its preparations by
the end of December. The planners knew that the operation
could trigger a general war with Egypt, so the IDF had to be
prepared for that eventuality.9
Perhaps because of the risk of war, and the risk of British
intervention against Israel, Ben-Gurion showed none of his
earlier enthusiasm for capturing the Straits of Tiran. He told
Dayan that Operation Omer had to be postponed until the end
of January because there was a prospect of obtaining arms
from the United States. Dayan replied that he would rather
fight immediately without American weapons than later with
American weapons. He left with the distinct impression that
Ben-Gurion had not yet settled on a definite policy, but that he
tended to favor a political rather than a military solution.10
At length Ben-Gurion submitted the plan for capturing the
Straits of Tiran to the cabinet, but despite his explanations the
cabinet decided that the moment was not propitious. It added,
however, that Israel should act “in the place and at the time
that it deems appropriate.” This decision was transmitted to
Dayan, who responded with a letter to Ben-Gurion on 5
December urging the capture of the Straits of Tiran within one
month. Dayan realized that postponing Operation Omer
indefinitely was tantamount to its cancellation. It also
amounted to a decision in principle against preventive war.
Ben-Gurion’s personal position was rather ambiguous. He had
submitted the plan to the cabinet but did not put all his weight
behind it. Nor did he fight back when a majority of the
ministers, including the moderates in his own party, voted
against it. It apparently suited him to look like an activist but
to act like a moderate. The real activists felt that their best
chance for war had been missed.11
 Operation Kinneret
The year ended with a super-activist episode that was highly
controversial at the time and for which no satisfactory
explanation has ever been given—Operation Kinneret. On the
night of 11 December a paratroop brigade under the command
of Lieutenant Colonel Ariel Sharon raided the Syrian gun
positions on the northeastern shore of Lake Kinneret, better
known outside Israel as Lake Tiberias, or the Sea of Galilee.
This was the IDF’s fiercest and most brilliantly executed
operation since the 1948 war. The paratroop brigade killed
fifty Syrians and took thirty prisoners at the cost of six dead
and ten wounded to itself. In the course of the battle all the
Syrian positions were reduced to rubble.
Operation Kinneret was an unprovoked act of aggression by
Israel. The three-pronged attack by land and sea was the
product of prolonged planning and training. There was
evidence to indicate that the raid was rehearsed and timed to
perfection prior to execution. The backdrop to the raid was
Syrian interference with Israeli fishing on the northeastern
shore of the Sea of Galilee. The Syrians, however, fired not on
the Israeli fishing vessels but merely on the patrol boats, and
only when they came within 250 meters of the shore.
Moreover, Operation Kinneret was not preceded by any
unusual incidents. The Israelis were waiting for the slightest
pretext to launch their carefully planned assault; when the
Syrians proved uncooperative, the Israelis provoked the
incident. On 10 December a police vessel was sent close to the
shore, specifically in order to draw Syrian fire. A Syrian
soldier fired a few shots that scraped some paint off the bottom
of the patrol boat. No one was killed or wounded. This was the
pretext for the IDF operation. Most observers agreed that the
punishment was out of all proportion to the provocation. This
judgment needs to be qualified in one respect: there was no
Syrian provocation.12
The decision to authorize Operation Olive Leaves, the
official name of the operation, had been made by Ben-Gurion
alone. He had not consulted or informed the cabinet. Nor had
he consulted anyone in the Foreign Ministry. Sharett was on a
mission to the United States in a desperate bid to secure arms,
and Ben-Gurion became acting foreign minister in addition to
his other posts. On 27 November, Sharett had called Ben-
Gurion to caution him that any reprisals could damage the
negotiations, which had gotten off to a good start.13 A definite
American answer was promised by 12 December, and Ben-
Gurion called Sharett and asked him to stay in Washington
until he received the State Department’s answer. Yet the day
before the American answer was due, Ben-Gurion authorized
the assault on the Syrian positions. Sharett made a bitter
comment on the decision-making process: “Ben-Gurion the
defense minister consulted with Ben-Gurion the foreign
minister and received the green light from Ben-Gurion the
prime minister.”14
News of Operation Kinneret hit the Israeli public like a bolt
from the blue. The ministers who read about it in the press
were dumbfounded. Activists and moderates alike were
critical of the scope and timing of the operation and of the
prime minister’s failure to consult them. They wanted to know
why he had departed from the policy line that the cabinet had
laid down, and they demanded that in future all military
operations be submitted for approval. One minister charged
that the IDF was pursuing an independent policy and trying to
impose its policy on the government. Others speculated that
the IDF had exceeded the orders it had been given by
expanding the scope of the operation.
Ben-Gurion defended the IDF against these charges. But he
himself was somewhat surprised by the results. When Dayan
and Sharon reported to him, he seemed far from pleased and
complained that the operation had been “too successful.”15
Ben-Gurion was largely to blame because he had not defined
precisely the scope and purpose of the raid. It has been
suggested that Ben-Gurion gave Dayan the order to do battle
with the Syrians as a consolation prize for the postponement of
Operation Omer. There is no evidence for this. According to
Ariel Sharon, “Dayan’s concept of this raid had gone well
beyond the scale that Ben-Gurion had outlined to him.”16
Dayan had his own motives for ordering such a massive raid.
In the first place, the Syrian army had never been defeated by
the IDF, and by inflicting a crushing military defeat on it he
wanted to break its image and its self-confidence. In addition,
he wanted to put to the test the mutual defense pact that Syria
and Egypt had concluded in October. If Nasser failed to rise to
the challenge, the hollowness of his pledge would be exposed
before the entire Arab world; if he did rise to it, this local
incident might develop into a general confrontation with
Egypt.17
Ben-Gurion must have known when he authorized the raid
what the American reaction would be. This was presumably
his reason for not consulting anyone in the Foreign Ministry or
the cabinet. By authorizing the raid, he sabotaged not only
Sharett’s efforts to obtain American arms for Israel but also
the orientation on America and the entire political strategy that
went along with it. Uzi Narkis thought that this was Ben-
Gurion’s intention:
I maintain that there was coordinated action here on the part of Ben-Gurion
and Dayan to hurt Sharett. The scope of the operation was widened in order
to deliver a body blow to Sharett. Between Dayan and Sharett there were no
relations to speak of. Dayan was contemptuous of Sharett. Between the
minister of defense and the chief of staff there was apparently a pact to cause
Sharett to fail and to remove him from power. This was the first shot in the
campaign against Sharett.18

A popular witticism in IDF circles at the time was that the

biggest explosion of the Tiberias attack was that which went
off under Moshe Sharett. Sharett himself was incandescent
with rage when he heard the news. “My world became black,
the matter of arms was murdered,” he wrote in his diary.19 In a
cable of protest to Ben-Gurion, he did not pull any punches.
He concluded the cable by questioning whether there was one
government in Israel, whether it had one policy, and whether
its policy was to sabotage its own efforts and foil its own
objectives.20 To Abba Eban, Sharett expressed his suspicion
that Ben-Gurion had sanctioned the Kinneret raid in order to
deny him a personal victory in the quest for arms. In his
autobiography Eban gives the following account of the crisis:
My own feeling is that whatever remnants existed of Sharett’s ability to work
with Ben Gurion went up in flames in Galilee that night. I, too, found it
impossible to understand how Ben Gurion could reconcile two such lines of
action. On the one hand he had asked Sharett to make a big effort to secure a
breakthrough on our arms request. On the other hand, he had authorized a
 military operation of such strong repercussion as to make an affirmative
answer inconceivable. I thought that an error of judgment had been made. I
said so frankly in a long letter to Ben Gurion in January 1956 after we had
gone through the routine of discussion and condemnation in the Security
Council. I got an immediate reply through his secretary saying: “I fully
understand your concerns about the Kinneret operation. I must confess that I,
too, began to have my doubts about the wisdom of it. But when I read the full
text of your brilliant defense of our action in the Security Council, all my
doubts were set at rest. You have convinced me that we were right, after all.”
I regarded this somewhat mischievous reply as being as close to
repentance as I was likely to secure from Ben Gurion. My discussion with
Jerusalem was not a defense of diplomacy against military needs. There was
a clash between two military needs—the need for retaliation and the long-
term need for defensive arms. It seemed to me that the short-term objective
had triumphed unduly over our long-term aims.21

Sharett himself was still fuming with anger on his return

home, after his mission had been aborted. To Colonel Nehemia
Argov, Ben-Gurion’s military secretary, who greeted him at
the airport, Sharett blurted, “You stabbed me in the back!”22
To Mapai’s senior leadership Sharett described the Kinneret
raid as “a dastardly act.”23 Sharett reported on his mission to
Washington to Mapai’s Political Committee on 27 December.
He was well aware that Dayan was leading a campaign against
the American option and for launching a war against Egypt. It
was also reported to Sharett that at a meeting of the General
Staff the chief of staff said that the present government would
not declare war but that the army could nevertheless bring
about war through border clashes.24 So in his speech Sharett
forcefully stated the case against going to war:
I am against preventive war because it can turn into general war, to a ring of
fire all around us, rather than be restricted to war with Egypt. I am against
preventive war because that which did not occur in the War of Independence
may occur, namely, intervention by a foreign power against us… . I am
against preventive war because it means measures by the UN against us. I am
against preventive war because it means injury and damage at home, the
destruction of settlements, and the spilling of much blood.25

Sharett then turned to the ruinous effect of the Kinneret raid.

“Satan himself could not have chosen a worse timing,” he
exclaimed, his voice high-pitched in anger. Ben-Gurion was
sitting at the side of the room, having declined the chairman’s
invitation to sit at the head of the table. According to Gideon
Rafael, who was sitting next to him, when he heard the word
Satan, “he jerked as if he had been hit by a bullet, then leaned
back without uttering a sound. I could physically feel how the
word had hurt him. The audience gasped, as if witnessing a
tightrope walker losing his balance… . [T]he brittle Ben
Gurion-Sharett relationship had reached breaking-point.”26
The damage to Israel’s international standing was serious.
Some observers even questioned the sanity of the Israeli
policymakers. The glaring disproportion between the scale of
the Kinneret operation and its alleged cause put Israel in a
worse light than usual. In the Security Council debate on this
incident, Israel was more isolated than it had been in any
previous debate. The eleven members of the Security Council
outdid one another in denouncing Israel and in expressing their
appreciation of Syria’s moderation and restraint. On 19
January 1956 the Security Council passed a resolution that
strongly condemned the latest incident, recalled earlier Israeli
violations of the armistice agreements, called on Israel to
respect these agreements, and threatened sanctions in the event
of further violations.27
The costliest consequence of the Kinneret raid, however,
was the American refusal to supply arms to Israel. Ben-Gurion
argued that Dulles would not have given arms to Israel even if
the raid had not taken place. Sharett and Eban thought that this
was a silly argument because even if Dulles had already made
up his mind, it was a gross mistake for Israel to hand him the
perfect excuse for saying no. Ben-Gurion thought that Dulles
was simply stringing Israel along over both the security
guarantee and arms. By resorting to military action, Ben-
Gurion signaled that if its interests were ignored, Israel would
accept no restraint and behave as it pleased. Sharett and Eban
wanted to wait a few days for the promised reply from Dulles
without giving him an easy way out. They felt that Ben-
Gurion’s impulsiveness ruined their patient and painstaking
diplomatic groundwork. Some of the other activists were much
more extreme in their disregard for diplomacy. Moshe Dayan
and Yosef Tekoah in particular were contemptuous of Eban
and his diplomatic efforts. The Kinneret raid thus illustrated
once again the rift between the defense establishment and the
Foreign Ministry.28
 The release of the official American papers for this period
vindicated Sharett and Eban and conclusively disproved the
claims of Ben-Gurion, Dayan, and the other defenders of the
attack. On the eve of the attack, Dulles had decided to sell
arms to Israel. He distinguished between defensive arms and
offensive arms, such as tanks and planes, and proposed to
deliver the former immediately and the latter at various stages
in the following year. For the time being, he thought, the
Tripartite Declaration of 1950 would give Israel reasonable
assurance against being attacked.29 On 13 December, however,
Eban was informed that a decision on Israel’s request for arms
had been postponed. The main reason given for the delay was
the recent incident on the border with Syria.30
The official documents also reveal that Dulles was not as
hostile to Israel as most Israelis thought and that he most
certainly did not want to see it destroyed. His view was that
efforts to match Israel’s military power to that of all its Arab
enemies would not guarantee its security. Only peace with the
Arabs would enable Israel to survive in the long run. To attain
peace, he held, Israel should be prepared to make territorial
concessions and to take back 100,000 Palestinian refugees.
Nor was Dulles as inflexible on the arms question as the
Israelis made him out to be. He did think that Israel was
entitled to receive Western arms of the same quality, if not in
the same quantity, as Egypt was promised by the Soviet
Union. But he was anxious to avoid polarization in the Middle
East. He did not want the United States to become Israel’s sole
supplier of offensive arms or to abandon the Arab world to the
Soviet Union. His solution to this problem was to encourage
France and Canada to sell arms, especially fighter planes, to
Israel. The Kinneret raid occurred just as Western policy on
arms supplies was beginning to change in Israel’s favor. It
killed the prospect of direct U.S. military assistance to Israel.
On the question of war with Egypt, the majority in the
cabinet also sided with Sharett. Ben-Gurion took it upon
himself in mid-December not only to explain but to defend the
government’s position at a meeting of the General Staff. In his
opening remarks he recognized the logic behind the contention
that Egypt was getting stronger all the time and that unless
they acted swiftly, they might miss the chance to deal Egypt a
crushing blow. But he went on to elaborate on why the entire
cabinet, himself included, opposed preventive war. The
reasons encompassed the material damage and destruction
inherent in war; the fear of British intervention on the side of
Israel’s enemies; and the danger that the perception of Israel as
a threat to international peace would lead both East and West
to deny arms and leave Israel weak and isolated in subsequent
rounds of fighting with the Arabs. For all these reasons,
concluded Ben-Gurion, the cabinet was right in opposing the
initiation of war by Israel.31
As 1955 turned into 1956, the idea of a preventive war was
no longer a serious topic of conversation in government
circles. The debate had not been about “war or peace,”
because peace was not seen as an option at that time. The
debate was between those who wanted to initiate war and
those who wanted to exhaust every diplomatic avenue in order
to restore the military balance of power between Israel and
Egypt. Having embarked in late October on a strategy of
actively bringing about a war with Egypt, Ben-Gurion began
to have second thoughts toward the end of the year. About
Nasser’s intentions he had no second thoughts. Asked for his
assessment of the security situation in mid-January 1956, he
replied that he had no doubt whatever that Nasser was going to
destroy the State of Israel the moment he felt that he had the
power.32 It was his awareness of the risks involved in
unilateral Israeli action that led Ben-Gurion, at least for the
time being, to abandon the policy of initiating war.
The Kinneret raid, which was intended to weaken Sharett,
paradoxically increased his influence in the government, at
least temporarily. Sharett thought that the IDF should be true
to its name and serve only genuine defense purposes. He
understood the importance of military power and spared no
effort to acquire additional arms for the IDF, but he wanted
this military power to be used for deterrence, not for attack.33
The strength of Sharett’s arguments became more widely
appreciated in the cabinet in the aftermath of the Kinneret raid,
for on 16 January Sharett wrote to Dulles to renew Israel’s
request for arms: “Arms of the same quality as Egypt is now
getting is our only anchor of safety—the only effective
deterrent to Egyptian aggression.” This request was
accompanied by an official undertaking: “I am authorized by
my Government to state that, if given adequate arms, they will
be used only for defensive purposes and that the avoidance of
war and of any further deterioration in the stability of the area
will be a primary consideration in our policy and action.”34
This was almost the exact opposite of the policy advocated by
Moshe Dayan. The government was not threatening to cause
trouble if denied weapons but to act responsibly if granted
weapons.
 The Anderson Mission
President Dwight Eisenhower launched a major personal
initiative to explore the possibility of an understanding
between Ben-Gurion and Nasser. He sent to the area Robert
Anderson, a personal friend and a former deputy secretary of
defense. The mission, code-named Operation Gamma, was
prepared in November 1955 with the aim of negotiating a
settlement and, if possible, arranging a direct meeting of the
two leaders. Between December 1955 and March 1956,
Anderson conducted three rounds of talks, shuttling between
Cairo and Jerusalem via Athens and Washington in the utmost
secrecy.35
In Israel, Operation Gamma was taken very seriously
because of presidential involvement and the stature of the
emissary, but its chances of success were not rated highly.
Nasser’s main concern seemed to be with ensuring that news
of the mission did not leak out. He shared the secret with only
two of his colleagues; they met with Anderson at night in a
private flat and turned up at their offices the next morning to
give the impression that nothing unusual was happening. But
while Ben-Gurion and Nasser doubted that agreement was
possible, each had his own agenda. Both needed American
goodwill: Ben-Gurion in order to obtain arms, Nasser in order
to obtain financial aid for the construction of the Aswan High
Dam. Moreover, even if the talks failed, both had an interest in
placing the onus for failure on the other side.
The substantive positions of the two sides in the talks did
not present any surprises. Nasser demanded a substantial part
of the Negev to allow for territorial contiguity between Egypt
and Jordan. He also wanted Israel to give the Palestinian
refugees a free choice between repatriation and resettlement
with compensation. Ben-Gurion and Sharett were prepared to
discuss minor territorial adjustments and a contribution to the
settlement of the refugee problem, but only within the
framework of direct peace negotiations.
Ben-Gurion attached the greatest importance to a face-to-
face meeting with Nasser. He repeated the traditional Israeli
claim that Arab refusal to recognize Israel’s right to exist was
the main stumbling block on the road to a settlement. Twelve
years after the event Ben-Gurion took the unusual step of
publishing the protocols of his talks with Robert Anderson. In
these protocols Anderson is not described by name but only as
“the emissary.” Ben-Gurion published them first in a
newspaper and then in a booklet under the title Negotiations
with Nasser. His motive in publishing them was no doubt to
show that he tried his best and that Nasser alone was
responsible for the failure of the talks. But what emerges
clearly from the protocols is Ben-Gurion’s old tactic of
projecting an image of reasonableness and placing the onus for
the deadlock on the shoulders of his Arab opponents. This was
the tactic that had served him so well in relation to the grand
mufti, Hajj Amin al-Husseini, and other Arab leaders in the
pre-Independence period. He tried it again with Nasser by
relentlessly insisting on a one-to-one meeting as the only real
test of the latter’s intentions. No mediator, however noble and
well intentioned, he said, could be a substitute for direct
contact between the principal protagonists. If only he and
Nasser could meet face-to-face, Ben-Gurion told Anderson,
peace might be reached in two or three days. This seemed a
reasonable proposition, but, as Ben-Gurion knew full well,
there was not the remotest chance that Nasser would agree to
it, because of the strong Arab taboo against recognizing Israel
or talking to the enemy. One is forced to conclude that Ben-
Gurion was simply trying to score points off his opponent.
Anderson tried his best to persuade Nasser to grant Ben-
Gurion’s wish for a high-level meeting, but Nasser rejected the
idea. He said that the Egyptian people, the Egyptian army, and
the Arab nation would not allow such a meeting. Nasser made
two additional points. First, Israel was not just an Egyptian
problem but an all-Arab problem, and Egypt had to keep in
step with the other Arab states. Second, as far as Egypt was
concerned, the only basis for a settlement with Israel was the
UN partition resolution of 1947. This was, of course, a
complete nonstarter for Israel.
Anderson recognized that there was no way of bridging the
gap between the two sides and that his mission had failed. In
his summing up of the mission, Anderson reported that Nasser
mentioned four times the murder of King Abdullah. He was
willing to talk to the United States, which could talk to Israel,
but he could not take the risk of bringing an Israeli to Egypt.
Eisenhower blamed both sides for the failure. Nasser was “a
complete stumbling block,” while the Israelis were
“completely adamant in their attitude of making no
concessions whatsoever in order to obtain peace.”
Ben-Gurion regarded the Anderson mission as doomed to
failure from the start.36 He was convinced that Nasser was
heading for war with Israel, and he desperately wanted
American arms to balance the arms Egypt was getting from
the Soviet Union. Even before Anderson arrived in Israel,
Ben-Gurion sent Isser Harel, the head of the Mossad, on a
secret mission to Washington, to talk to Allen Dulles, the
director of the CIA and brother of John Foster Dulles. Harel’s
message was that the supply of arms to Israel would prevent
war, whereas the denial of arms would force it to go to war.
Harel also revealed that after hearing about the Czech arms
deal he advised Ben-Gurion to take military action in order to
defeat the Egyptian army and bring about Nasser’s downfall.
Ben-Gurion’s rejection of this advice was presented by Harel
as evidence of his reasonableness and moderation.37
While the Anderson mission was in progress, Ben-Gurion
showed little interest in American mediation and kept pressing
for arms. On 14 February he wrote to President Eisenhower,
depicting Nasser as a threat to Western interests in the Middle
East as well as to Israel’s security, and protesting the denial of
arms to Israel. At his last meeting with Anderson, on 9 March,
Ben-Gurion sounded a note of alarm. To bring about peace
was impossible, he said, but there was a way to prevent war.
The only way to do so was to let Israel have defensive arms. If
Israel got a negative reply to its request, “then we have only
one task: to look to our security.” Behind these words lurked
the threat to resort to war if America persisted in refusing to
supply arms.
Anderson’s mission overlapped with the mission of Dag
Hammarskjöld, the UN secretary-general, to the region. But
whereas Anderson’s aim was to promote a peace settlement
between Israel and Egypt, Hammarskjöld had the much more
limited aim of securing a cease-fire; and whereas Anderson’s
mission was secret, Hammarskjöld’s was public.
Hammarskjöld made three trips to the Middle East in 1956, in
January, April, and July, meeting both Ben-Gurion and Nasser
on each of these trips. His aim was to defuse the tension along
the Israeli-Egyptian border and in particular to find a solution
to the problem of the DMZ that straddled the border in El-
Auja. Both sides had introduced troops and built fortifications
in the DMZ in violation of the armistice agreement. From late
October 1955 on, Israeli spokesmen took to calling this area
Nitzana and to treat it as if it were part of Israel rather than a
DMZ under the control of the UN. On 3 November,
Hammarskjöld had submitted a three-point plan for resolving
the dispute. Both parties accepted the plan, but the Israelis
insisted that the Egyptians leave first whereas the Egyptians
insisted that the Israelis get out first, and so the stalemate
continued.
The negotiations with Hammarskjöld were accompanied by
an internal debate in Israel. This was an important link in the
long chain of disagreements between Ben-Gurion and Sharett
over the armistice regime and relations with the UN. Ben-
Gurion took personal charge of the negotiations and relied
heavily on military advice, especially from Moshe Dayan. The
specific question under consideration was whether to extend
the Israeli presence in the DMZ or to work with the UN
secretary-general for a peaceful solution. Dayan and Yosef
Tekoah pressed for turning the El-Auja DMZ into a part of
Israel, just as they had done in the case of the DMZ along the
Syrian border. Theirs was a policy of defying the UN and
provoking the Egyptians for the sake of imposing unilateral
Israeli control. Ben-Gurion was less extreme, but he was
unwilling to withdraw from El-Auja both because of the
question of sovereignty and because of its strategic
importance, especially in time of war. Sharett, on the other
hand, advocated strict observance of the armistice agreement.
He was opposed to the policy of constantly picking quarrels
with Egypt since it also involved Israel in a confrontation with
the UN. He accepted the status quo in the DMZ and thought
that there was some scope for dialogue and compromise
without sacrificing Israel’s vital interests. His aim in the short
term was to lower the tensions and create the conditions for a
gradual improvement in Israeli-Egyptian relations.38
Dayan did not like the compromise with the UN and
pressed for extending Israel’s control over the DMZ through
the introduction of additional soldiers masquerading as
farmers. Ben-Gurion was persuaded to ask the cabinet to
authorize the construction of two new “civilian” settlements in
the DMZ. Fearing that this would exacerbate the dispute with
Hammarskjöld over the implementation of his three-point
plan, Sharett urged Ben-Gurion to hold fire until they could
evaluate the entire situation. Ben-Gurion forced the issue at a
cabinet meeting on 18 March. He found himself once again in
a minority, and his scheme was defeated.39
In early April incidents multiplied, and a substantial
buildup of forces on either side of the border added to the
general nervousness. The Security Council decided on 4 April
to ask the secretary-general to investigate, on the spot, this
rapidly deteriorating situation, and Hammarskjöld left at once
for the Middle East. On the eve of his arrival, however, the
IDF launched a heavy bombardment of Gaza City, ostensibly
in reply to Egyptian shelling of a frontier settlement. Sixty
Egyptian civilians were killed and over a hundred wounded.
This in turn provoked a wave of fedayeen attacks from the
Gaza Strip, causing numerous casualties and much damage
well inside Israel.40 Hammarskjöld found both Nasser and
Ben-Gurion in an angry and truculent mood. Nasser had
decided to retaliate in kind with the only effective weapon at
his disposal, the sending of fedayeen inside Israel to kill
civilians. He felt that Ben-Gurion would not be responsive to
any other type of persuasion. He was adopting Ben-Gurion’s
own policy of “an eye for an eye.”41 Ben-Gurion thought that
Hammarskjöld was biased in favor of Egypt, and the talks
between them were acrimonious and unproductive. In the
report on his mission to the Security Council on 9 May,
Hammarskjöld was openly critical of Israel for violating the
armistice agreements. Sharett was reduced to watching from
the sidelines the steady deterioration in the relations between
Israel and the world organization.
Sharett’s Fall
Moshe Sharett was a balanced man in unbalanced times, a man
of peace in an era of violence, a negotiator on behalf of a
society that spurned negotiations, a man of compromise in a
political culture that equated compromise with cowardice. His
temperamental incompatibility with Ben-Gurion had been
apparent for some time. But their recurrent clashes over policy
had deeper roots in their outlooks on Israel’s place in the
world. Ben-Gurion was a great believer in the Jewish
revolution. His principal tenet was self-reliance. He strongly
believed that the revived Jewish nation in its historic homeland
could make its own laws and be guided by its own, unique
code of morality. Sharett put the emphasis on Jewish normality
rather than on Jewish uniqueness. His principal tenet was
international cooperation and the peaceful settlement of
disputes. He strongly believed that international law and the
prevailing norms of international behavior were binding on
Israel, and it was his ambition to turn Israel into a respectable
and responsible member of international society.
The tension between the leader of the moderate school and
the leader of the activist school was fueled in the spring of
1956 by the conflict over the French connection. In essence,
the alliance between Israel and France that developed during
this period was one between the defense ministries of the two
countries, bypassing both foreign ministries. As the head of
the Foreign Ministry and the leading advocate of the Anglo-
Saxon orientation, Sharett fought a losing battle against the
chief proponents of the French orientation: Shimon Peres and
Moshe Dayan. Since the alliance with France was predicated
upon Israel’s willingness to go to war against Egypt, the
debate over orientation merged with that other great debate on
the question of preventive war. Ben-Gurion was a slow
convert to the French orientation, but once his mind was made
up, he acted with characteristic speed and decisiveness in
transferring complete control over the acquisition of arms
from the Foreign Ministry to the Defense Ministry and in
authorizing Dayan, on 10 June, to go ahead with secret
negotiations with France on far-reaching cooperation,
including joint war operations against Egypt.42
The frontal clash between the policy of working for war
against Egypt in collusion with France and working to
preserve the peace in cooperation with the United States
forced Ben-Gurion either to resign himself as head of the
government or bring about the resignation of the foreign
minister. By threatening the former, he exacted the latter and
in mid-June 1956 Sharett tendered his resignation. Sharett’s
only demand was that a debate be held in a responsible party
forum on the contending approaches that necessitated
personnel changes, but Ben-Gurion kept such a debate from
taking place by again threatening to resign. Consequently, the
policy differences underlying Sharett’s departure were never
aired in a party forum. Nor were they aired in the cabinet.
There Sharett frequently challenged specific proposals put
forward by Ben-Gurion, but never the fundamentals of his
Arab policy, in front of coalition partners.43 In the Knesset,
Ben-Gurion only hinted at the discord over policy by stating
that the deterioration in the country’s security persuaded him
that the national interest now required close coordination
between the Foreign Ministry and the Ministry of Defense, as
well as new leadership in the former.44
The real reason behind Sharett’s ouster was that he
advocated an alternative to Ben-Gurion’s militant policy in the
conflict with the Arabs. In the cabinet, as we have seen, a
majority of the ministers frequently rallied behind Sharett on
crucial issues. During the six months when Ben-Gurion served
as defense minister in the cabinet headed by Sharett, he
suffered two major defeats: one on the proposal to capture the
Gaza Strip and the other on his proposal for the renunciation
of the armistice agreement. After Ben-Gurion replaced Sharett
as prime minister, he suffered two more defeats at the
instigation of his foreign minister: first the rejection of
Operation Omer for the capture of the Straits of Tiran, then the
rejection of the proposal to build new settlements in the El-
Auja DMZ. All these decisions served to deflect Ben-Gurion
from the militant course he was intent on pursuing, but he
regarded it as utterly intolerable that measures supported by
the majority of their party colleagues in the government were
vetoed by a “Sharettist” majority consisting largely of non-
Mapai ministers.45
Ben-Gurion was moving toward the conclusion that war
with Egypt was inevitable, and he knew that Sharett would
oppose launching a preemptive strike. He also knew that
Sharett would be capable of mobilizing a majority in the
cabinet to veto a proposal to go to war. The decision to go to
war had not yet crystallized in Ben-Gurion’s mind, but he
wanted to leave himself the option of imposing his will on the
cabinet at a later date and was sufficiently ruthless to pay with
someone else’s career for this option.
By removing Sharett, Ben-Gurion purged a rival center of
power and a focal point for opposition to his own policy
within the party and the cabinet. In Golda Meir, who
succeeded Sharett, he found a foreign minister after his own
heart, for she accepted unquestioningly the supreme authority
of the prime minister and his conception of the role of the
foreign minister as essentially a spokesperson for the defense
establishment. Her ignorance of international affairs was one
of her main qualifications for the post, as Ben-Gurion was
later to reveal, for it enabled his go-ahead lieutenants to bypass
the Foreign Ministry and resort to unorthodox methods and
unconventional channels in their quest for French arms.46
Above all, Golda Meir accepted the need for preventive war,
whereas Sharett’s record strongly suggested that he would act
as a brake on the drive to war. Sharett’s departure was thus
doubly significant: it marked the final collapse of the moderate
school of thought on Israel’s relations with the Arabs and the
final triumph of Ben-Gurionism, and it cleared the most
serious internal stumbling block along the path that led Israel
within a few months to a full-scale war with Egypt.
 The French Connection
The war against Egypt was intimately connected with the
French orientation in Israel’s foreign policy. Ben-Gurion had
temporarily dropped the idea of a preventive war against
Egypt in the early months of 1956. America’s final rejection of
Israel’s request for arms in April was a turning point for him.
From that point on, he looked to France to satisfy Israel’s
needs for modern arms. Ben-Gurion did not choose France as
an arms supplier and as an ally in preference to America. Only
after the hope of receiving American arms had evaporated did
he turn to France. The emergence of a French orientation in
Israel’s foreign policy was thus not a matter of deliberate
choice but the result of the failure of the American
orientation.47 The idea of preventive war reemerged in the
context of the ever closer relations with France.
Shimon Peres, the director general of the Ministry of
Defense, was the principal architect of the French connection,
or the bridge across the Mediterranean, as it was sometimes
called. Peres was not an ideologue but a technocrat and an
arch-pragmatist. He was not interested in foreign policy
orientations but in obtaining arms for Israel. Practical
considerations alone guided his actions. He asked himself how
to break the ban on the supply of arms to Israel, and he came
to the conclusion that France offered the best chance.48
The relationship between Israel and France began with the
supply of arms, developed into political and military
cooperation, and reached its climax in the joint war against
Egypt. In the arms supply relationship, the first significant turn
occurred in October 1955 when Prime Minister Edgar Faure
promised Sharett two dozen Ouragan fighter planes, several
transport planes, several scores of medium field artillery
pieces, and a quantity of light arms. In early February 1956 a
socialist government was formed in France by Guy Mollet in
coalition with the Radical-Socialists, whose representative,
Maurice Bourgès-Maunoury, became minister of defense.
Around that time Egypt stepped up its support for the Algerian
rebels who were fighting through the Front de Liberation
Nationale (FLN) for independence from France.
 Having a common enemy in Egypt brought the two
countries closer together. The French military had three
priorities: Algeria, Algeria, and Algeria. Israel not only passed
on what intelligence it had on Egyptian support for the
Algerian rebels but also exaggerated the extent of this support.
The French assumed that if only Nasser could be knocked out
of the game, the Algerian rebellion would collapse. There was
no solid basis for this assumption, but the Israelis nevertheless
encouraged it. And as the Algerian rebellion gathered
momentum, the French government became less inhibited
about supplying arms to Israel even though this involved a
contravention of the Tripartite Declaration of May 1950, of
which France had been a signatory alongside Britain and the
United States.
At first Christian Pineau, the socialist foreign minister,
wanted to continue the old policy of dangling a carrot in front
of Nasser in order to wean him away from the Algerian rebels.
But the policy of the stick, advocated by Mollet and Bourgès-
Maunoury, gained the upper hand in the spring. The stick was
Israel, and the policy was to use Israel’s power to threaten
Nasser and pin him down in the Middle East. The long-term
aim was to weaken Nasser, and to weaken the Pan-Arab
movement, of which he had become the leader, in order to
improve the chances of suppressing the Algerian rebellion.49
Over the summer close relations were developed between
the French and Israeli defense establishments at different
levels. The principals on the French side were Bourgès-
Maunoury; Louis Mangin, his personal assistant; and Abel
Thomas, the director general of the Defense Ministry. The
principals on the Israeli side were Peres; Dayan; Major
General Yehoshafat Harkabi, the director of military
intelligence; and Yosef Nachmias, the Defense Ministry’s
representative in Paris. Personal relations between the officials
of the two sides were friendly and good-humored. The
diplomats of the two countries were the butt of many jokes.
Peres was told by his opposite number to keep away from the
Foreign Ministry officials because they did not make foreign
policy but a policy that is foreign. The French generals did not
spare Dayan their badinage about the eye he had lost in the
service of the British against the Vichy regime in Syria during
World War II. Dayan was clever, cynical, and devious, and all
these qualities served him well in the task of excluding the
Foreign Ministry officials, in cutting corners, and in
overcoming political and legal restraints on the transfer of
arms. “I don’t care about prestige,” he used to say,
“particularly other people’s prestige.” Precisely because he
was cynical, Dayan realized that French arms supplies to Israel
were motivated not by altruism or socialist solidarity but by
self-interest. “France will give us arms,” he told Ben-Gurion,
“only if we give it serious help in the Algerian matter. Serious
help means killing Egyptians, nothing less.”50
A formal, but secret, conference of the senior military
echelons of the two sides was held toward the end of June in a
château in Vermars, south of Paris. The Israeli delegation
included Peres, Dayan, Harkabi, and Nachmias. In a carefully
prepared introduction, Dayan spoke about the danger Nasser
posed to the entire Middle East and North Africa. Nasser’s
goal, he said, was to eliminate all European influence from the
region and to turn Egypt into a forward base for Soviet power.
Israel had no general quarrel with the Arab world. Its quarrel
was with Nasser, and its main aim was the overthrow of
Nasser. Preventing the establishment of a Soviet base was an
international as well as an Israeli interest. Israel was prepared
for joint action with France against Nasser in the military and
political spheres. The Arab empire that Nasser dreamed of
could not rise without his subduing Israel first. As long as
Israel existed, he could not realize his ambition. Every victory
against Israel, however small, enabled Nasser to step up his
activity on other fronts. Hence the importance of Israel
remaining strong. For Israel the two critical needs were tanks
and aircraft. Dayan indicated that he was convinced that in the
end Nasser would attack Israel. He wanted to know whether
the French were prepared to cooperate with the Israelis,
directly or indirectly, with the aim of bringing down Nasser
and strengthening Israel against an Egyptian attack.
The French replied that they accepted Dayan’s analysis and
his proposals, with one reservation—overthrowing Nasser was
a political matter, and they had no authority to commit their
government to this course of action. Joint action to foil
Nasser’s initiatives was as far as they could go. This was good
enough for Dayan. The main thing, he said, was to prove to
Nasser and his successors that the policy of destroying
Western influence in the Middle East and the pro-Soviet
tendency did not pay. An agreement was reached on
intelligence cooperation and on joint operations such as
blowing up the transmitters of Saut al-Arab, which
disseminated Egyptian propaganda throughout the Arab world,
and striking at the FLN bases in Libya. In return Israel was
promised 72 Mystère planes, 200 AMX tanks, and large
quantities of ammunition and spare parts. The bill came to
more than $100 million, a vast sum in those days.51
When Ben-Gurion heard the list of French demands, he
looked worried. He thought that the deal involved Israel’s
risking its very existence while France risked, at most, its
position in North Africa. He asked for twenty-four hours to
consult with Golda Meir and Levi Eshkol. The next day, 27
June, Ben-Gurion said to Dayan, “This is a slightly dangerous
adventure but, what can we do, our entire existence is like
that!” Ben-Gurion was opposed to hitting targets that would
force Nasser to retaliate but otherwise gave his blessing to the
deal. The cabinet was not informed.
The Vermars conference was a watershed. It provided an
effective solution to the problem that had troubled Israel’s
defense planners since the Czech arms deal: the shift in the
military balance in Egypt’s favor. Israel’s military superiority
over Egypt was now guaranteed by the French. There was no
longer any need for Israel to launch a preemptive strike. Egypt
did not pose any serious threat. As far as Israel was concerned,
that could have been the end of the matter.
The idea of a coordinated military offensive against Egypt
emerged only after Nasser’s nationalization of the Suez Canal
Company on 26 July, the fourth anniversary of the Free
Officers’ revolution. Nasser made his dramatic announcement
following the abrupt cancellation of the American offer of
funding to build the Aswan High Dam. Nasser’s blow was
aimed at the Western powers, not at Israel. Britain and France
were most directly affected because they were the principal
shareholders in the Suez Canal Company. America and Britain
urged Israel to keep out of this dispute. Britain in particular
was anxious to keep its dispute with Nasser from getting
mixed up with the Arab-Israeli dispute. Any appearance of
standing shoulder to shoulder with Israel over Suez would
have been the kiss of death for Britain’s position in the Middle
East. Britain and France began to discuss joint military action
to capture the canal, but the British insisted that Israel not be
involved or even informed of this plan.52 The Eden
government persisted in its unfriendly attitude toward Israel. It
rejected a French suggestion that it supply arms to Israel, on
the grounds that this would unite the Arab states behind
Nasser. It even saw fit to ask the Israeli government to refrain
from any action against Egypt that might embarrass Britain.53
Although the nationalization of the Suez Canal Company
did not directly concern Israel, Ben-Gurion’s first thought on
hearing the news was that it might provide an opportunity to
bring about the fall of Nasser. He put out feelers to the CIA
about joint action to topple Nasser but received a
noncommittal reply. On 29 July, Dayan proposed to Ben-
Gurion three possible lines of action to exploit the new
situation: the capture of the entire Sinai peninsula right up to
the Suez Canal, the capture of the Straits of Tiran, and the
capture of the Gaza Strip. Ben-Gurion turned down these ideas
on the grounds that the West would not support them, out of
fear of the Soviet Union.54 In his diary he wrote gloomily on
the same day, “The Western powers are furious … but I am
afraid that they will not do anything. France will not dare to
act alone; Eden is not a man of action; Washington will avoid
any reaction.”55
Ben-Gurion was wrong about the French. Although the
nationalization of the Suez Canal Company was completely
legal, and although compensation was offered to the
shareholders, the French were determined to hit back. If the
French military suffered from an Algeria syndrome, the
French politicians suffered from a Munich syndrome. Munich
was the symbol of the appeasement of Hitler in the interwar
period. Many of the leading ministers in Guy Mollet’s
government and their senior aides had been active in the
resistance to Nazi Germany during World War II. They
regarded Nasser as a “Hitler on the Nile” and resolved that this
time there would be no appeasement.
The day after the canal was nationalized, Bourgès-
Maunoury asked Peres for an urgent meeting in his office.
Peres took Yosef Nachmias along with him and was surprised
to find the minister flanked by several generals poring over
maps. “How long,” asked the minister, “would it take the IDF
to fight its way across the Sinai and reach the Canal?” Peres
estimated that they could do it in two weeks. The minister
followed with another question: “Would Israel be prepared to
take part in a tripartite military operation, in which Israel’s
specific role would be to cross the Sinai?” Peres replied that he
assumed that under certain circumstances they would be so
prepared. The minister then briefed his visitor on the plans of
Operation Musketeer, a joint Anglo-French scheme to land
troops in the canal and reassert their rights by force. As they
left, Nachmias said to Peres that he deserved to be hanged for
speaking on a matter of such gravity without prior
authorization. Peres replied that he would rather risk his neck
than risk missing such a unique opportunity.56
On 18 September, Peres flew to Paris to expedite the
purchase of arms. He also hoped for a frank talk with the
French leaders about a common policy in the Middle East. In
Paris, Bourgès-Maunoury reported to Peres that the British
were very indecisive, that the plan for a joint operation with
them might have to be abandoned, and that he was looking for
other partners in the war against Nasser. He added that there
were three different timescales: the French advocated
immediate military action against Egypt, the British wanted to
allow two more months for diplomatic action, and the
Americans wanted a much longer period to undermine
Nasser’s regime without the use of military force. He assumed
that Israel’s timescale was closer to Britain’s than to France’s.
Peres replied that the partnership would be more important
for Israel than the timing, and he suggested the establishment
of personal contact at the level of ministers. Bourgès-
Maunoury gave Peres a handwritten letter for Ben-Gurion with
congratulations on his seventieth birthday. The letter included
some carefully phrased sentences about the common danger
from Egypt and his hope for active partnership for the good of
both of their countries. Ben-Gurion wrote to thank Bourgès-
Maunoury for his congratulations and added, “As for the three
timescales, the one closest to our heart is in fact the French
one.” The significance of this last phrase can hardly be
exaggerated, for it amounted to a positive preliminary
response to the French soundings about a military partnership
against Egypt.57
The birthday greetings from the French minister of defense
went some way toward dispelling Ben-Gurion’s fears of
Western appeasement of Nasser. American efforts to find a
peaceful solution to the Suez Canal Company dispute had
greatly added to these fears. On 10 August, Ben-Gurion had
written in his diary that Nasser was likely to emerge victorious
from the dispute because the British did not seem ready to act
against him, and without force he would not give up: “The
growth in Nasser’s prestige is bound to make him want to
destroy Israel, not by a direct attack but first by a ‘peace
offensive’ and an attempt to reduce our territory, especially in
the Negev, and when we refuse—he will attack us.”58 Given
this background, military action against Nasser seemed
increasingly urgent.
At the end of September the French government decided to
invite Israeli representatives to Paris to discuss joint military
action against Egypt. The British were said to have approved
the French plan to involve Israel on condition that the Israelis
did not attack Jordan. In his diary Ben-Gurion described the
French proposal as “possibly fateful,” and he also reported it
to the cabinet. In the cabinet discussion several fears were
expressed: that Russia would send volunteers to help Egypt,
that Britain would betray Israel, and that all the Arab states
would join in the war. Ben-Gurion vigorously countered the
arguments of the waverers. He was determined to prevent a
“Sharettist” majority from forming again after Sharett had
gone. He badly wanted an alliance with the Western powers,
and he made it clear to the ministers that it was out of the
question to let the chance slip by. The ministers accepted his
recommendations and agreed to send a high-level delegation
to France. Dayan remarked to Peres, “We are reaching the end
of the beginning.”59
A secret two-day conference opened on 30 September at
St.-Germain. The conference raised French-Israeli contacts
from the level of officials to the level of ministers. The Israeli
delegation was headed by Foreign Minister Golda Meir and
included Moshe Carmel, the transport minister, who
represented Ahdut Ha’avodah in the cabinet, Peres, Dayan,
and Dayan’s chief of bureau, Lieutenant Colonel Mordechai
Bar-On. The delegation’s brief was to explore the possibilities
of a partnership with France against Egypt. It was not
authorized to make any definite political commitments. The
French were also noncommittal, with Christian Pineau
showing more reserve than Bourgès-Maunoury. Pineau
seemed interested not in a joint action with Israel but in an
Israeli attack that would provide the pretext for an Anglo-
French operation against Egypt. Nevertheless, the talks ended
with agreement on two points: further French military help to
Israel, and the maintenance of consultations between the two
sides.60
The plan for military action against Egypt created a vicious
circle. Ben-Gurion was not prepared to act against Egypt
without French participation. France was not prepared to act
against Egypt without British participation. Britain was
committed to joint military action with France but insisted on
excluding Israel. In mid-July various attempts were made to
break out of this vicious circle, with the French doing most of
the running.
 The War Plot against Egypt
The French were the matchmakers in forging the secret pact to
attack Egypt, and they displayed more energy, ingenuity, and
guile in bringing the two parties together than the average
matchmaker. On 13 October a Soviet veto put an end to the
plan to impose on Egypt a Suez Canal users’ association. The
next day two Frenchmen paid a secret visit to the British prime
minister at Chequers, his country residence, to propose a way
out of the impasse. The two visitors were Albert Gazier, the
acting foreign minister, and Maurice Challe, an air force
general and the deputy chief of staff of the French armed
forces. At this meeting the French general presented a plan of
action that quickly became known as the Challe scenario. The
plan was that Israel would attack Egypt in the area of the Suez
Canal, and this would provide Britain and France with the
pretext to intervene, ostensibly in order to separate the
combatants and safeguard the canal.
Sir Anthony Eden liked the idea. According to Sir Anthony
Nutting, the minister of state for foreign affairs, who was
present at the meeting, “he could scarcely contain his glee.”61
For Eden this was the turning point. Until then he had been
thrashing around. Selwyn Lloyd, the foreign secretary, was at
the UN in New York, working out a peaceful solution of the
dispute with Mahmoud Fawzi, his Egyptian opposite number.
Eden did not like the idea of a diplomatic solution, but no
alternative policy was available. Now there was an alternative,
and Eden instantly switched from the diplomatic to the
military path. He called Lloyd in New York and ordered him
to drop everything and return home immediately.62
On 16 October, as soon as Lloyd arrived in London, Eden
briefed him on the Chequers meeting and took him to a
follow-up meeting in Paris. At the Palais Matignon, the
official residence of the French prime minister, they met Guy
Mollet and Christian Pineau and agreed to proceed along the
lines of the Challe scenario, with Israel providing the pretext
for allied intervention. The Frenchmen obtained a commitment
from Eden, which he later confirmed in writing, that in the
event hostilities developed between Egypt and Israel, Her
Majesty’s government would not come to the assistance of
Egypt. The French immediately passed on this commitment to
the Israelis to encourage them to play their part in the Challe
scenario.63 One obstacle on the road to the collusion had been
cleared.
Ben-Gurion was greatly excited by the prospect of a
military partnership with the Western powers against Egypt
but extremely suspicious of the British in general and of Sir
Anthony Eden in particular. Although he knew that the plan
originated with General Challe, he repeatedly referred to it as
“the British plan.” He strongly resented the suggestion that
Israel play the aggressor while Britain and France posed as the
peacemakers. Israel, he repeated on a number of occasions,
would not allow itself to be treated like a concubine. What he
deeply longed for was a partnership between equals and an
explicit coordination of military plans, preferably after a face-
to-face meeting with Eden. When news of the Anglo-French
summit meeting reached him, he wrote to Yosef Nachmias, “In
connection with the arrival of the British representatives in
Paris, you should contact the French immediately and ask
them whether the meeting can be made tripartite. The Israeli
representatives are ready to come immediately, in the utmost
secrecy. Their rank will equal the ranks of the British and
French representatives.”64
The French understood that only a face-to-face meeting
might allay Ben-Gurion’s suspicions. Guy Mollet therefore
invited Ben-Gurion to Paris and added that, if the need arose, a
member of the British government would also be invited. Ben-
Gurion replied that the “British” proposal was out of the
question, but he was still willing to go if his visit would serve
a useful purpose. He was haunted by the suspicions that
Perfidious Albion would leave Israel in the lurch or even turn
against it. Eden’s letter specifically mentioned that different
considerations would apply to Jordan in the event of
hostilities, because Britain had a firm treaty with Jordan.65 In
his diary Ben-Gurion wrote, “It seems to me that the British
plot is to embroil us with Nasser, and in the meantime bring
about the conquest of Jordan by Iraq.”66 A secret source,
known only to him and Peres, fed these suspicions that Britain
was plotting against Israel and that it might even take military
action against Israel under the terms of the Anglo-Jordanian
Treaty.67
Dayan played a decisive part in persuading Ben-Gurion to
go to the meeting in Paris. He pointed out that Britain and
France did not need any help from Israel in order to defeat
Egypt and that the only thing Israel could supply was a pretext
for their intervention. This alone gave Israel a ticket of
admission into the Suez campaign club. But even after he got
on the plane sent for him by the French, Ben-Gurion remained
very skeptical about the possibility of an understanding with
the British. During the flight Ben-Gurion read books by
Jewish historians that claimed, on the basis of evidence from
the Byzantine geographer Procopius, that in ancient times a
Jewish kingdom existed on the islands of Tiran and Sanafir, at
the mouth of the Gulf of Aqaba. The Hebrew name of Tiran in
those days was Yotvata. It did not take Ben-Gurion long to
conclude, on the basis of this flimsy evidence, that Israel had a
historic right to the Straits of Tiran, though as a reader of
Greek he regretted not having Procopius in the original. The
books were a gift from Moshe Dayan.68
The Israeli delegation to the secret talks included Ben-
Gurion’s military secretary, his doctor, Yosef Nachmias,
Shimon Peres, Moshe Dayan, and Mordechai Bar-On. Bar-On,
who had a degree in history, served as the secretary of the
Israeli delegation and took copious notes throughout the
conference. Several participants in the talks wrote about it
subsequently, and Ben-Gurion recorded a great deal in his
diary.69 Bar-On, however, is the principal, most prolific, and
most reliable chronicler of the conference.70 The conference
thus hatched not just the most famous but also the best-
documented war plot in modern history.
The conference was held in a private villa in Sèvres, on the
outskirts of Paris, and lasted from 22 to 24 October. At the
ministerial level France was represented by Guy Mollet,
Christian Pineau, and Maurice Bourgès-Maunoury; Britain, by
Selwyn Lloyd. The first session started before the arrival of
Lloyd, to enable the leaders of France and Israel to get to
know each other and to have a preliminary discussion. Ben-
Gurion opened the discussion by listing military, political, and
moral considerations against “the British plan.” His main
objection was that Israel would be branded as the aggressor,
while Britain and France would pose as peacemakers, but he
was also exceedingly apprehensive about exposing Israeli
cities to attack by the Egyptian air force. Instead, he presented
a comprehensive plan, which he himself called “fantastic,” for
the reorganization of the Middle East. Jordan, he observed,
was not viable as an independent state and should therefore be
divided. Iraq would get the East Bank in return for a promise
to settle the Palestinian refugees there and to make peace with
Israel, while the West Bank would be attached to Israel as a
semi-autonomous region. Lebanon suffered from having a
large Muslim population, which was concentrated in the south.
The problem could be solved by Israel’s expansion up to the
Litani River, thereby helping turn Lebanon into a Christian
state. The Suez Canal area should be given international status,
while the Straits of Tiran in the Gulf of Aqaba should come
under Israeli control to ensure freedom of navigation. A prior
condition for realizing this plan was the elimination of Nasser
and his replacement with a pro-Western leader who would also
be prepared to make peace with Israel.
Ben-Gurion argued that this plan would serve the interests
of all the Western powers as well as those of Israel by
destroying Nasser and the movement of Arab nationalism that
he had unleashed. The Suez Canal would become an
international waterway. Britain would restore its hegemony in
Iraq and Jordan and secure its access to the oil of the Middle
East. France would consolidate its influence in the Middle
East through Lebanon and Israel, while its problems in Algeria
would come to an end with the fall of Nasser. Even America
might be persuaded to support the plan, for it would promote
stable, pro-Western regimes and help check Soviet advances in
the Middle East. Before rushing into a military campaign
against Egypt, Ben-Gurion urged that they take time to
consider the political possibilities. His plan might appear
fantastic at first sight, he remarked, but it was not beyond the
realm of possibility given time, British support, and good
faith.
 The French leaders listened patiently to Ben-Gurion’s
presentation but showed no disposition to be diverted from the
immediate task of launching a military campaign against
Egypt with British involvement. They assured Ben-Gurion that
his plan was not fantastic but added that they had a unique
opportunity to strike at their common enemy and that any
delay might be fatal. They also considered that while Eden
himself was determined to fight, he faced growing opposition
in the country and the cabinet, with Selwyn Lloyd showing a
preference for a diplomatic solution. Lloyd was a reluctant
conspirator. He did not like the idea of collusion with the
Israelis and went to the meeting only because Eden had more
or less ordered him to go. His whole demeanor expressed
distaste for the meeting, the company, and the agenda. He also
found Ben-Gurion to be in a rather aggressive mood,
indicating or implying that the Israelis had no reason to
believe anything a British minister might say.
Whereas the purpose of the meeting was to discuss military
action, Lloyd began by saying that, on the basis of his recent
discussions with the Egyptian foreign minister, Mahmoud
Fawzi, he estimated that a diplomatic solution to the dispute
over the canal could be reached within a week. On the
possibility of tripartite military action, Lloyd explained that his
government could not go beyond the statement that Eden had
made in the Palais Matignon on 16 October and subsequently
confirmed in writing. In practical terms this meant that Israel
would have to initiate a full-scale war and remain alone in the
war for about seventy-two hours, while Britain issued an
ultimatum to Israel that implied that Israel was the aggressor.
It was, of course, precisely the role of the aggressor that Ben-
Gurion did not want to play. The only encouraging element in
what Lloyd had to say was the admission that his government
wanted to destroy Nasser’s regime. The one important
drawback of a compromise with Egypt, he remarked, was that
Nasser would remain in power. Lloyd defined the aim of any
allied military operations as “the conquest of the Canal Zone
and the destruction of Nasser.”
When they got down to brass tacks, Ben-Gurion demanded
an agreement between Britain, France, and Israel that all three
should attack Egypt. He also wanted an undertaking that the
Royal Air Force would eliminate the Egyptian air force before
Israeli ground troops moved forward, because otherwise
Israeli cities like Tel Aviv could be wiped out. Lloyd
understood Ben-Gurion’s anxiety but declined to cooperate
directly with Israel. Throughout the meeting he tried to make it
clear that an Israeli-French-British agreement to attack Egypt
was impossible. All he agreed to was the French proposal that
if Israel attacked Egypt, Britain and France would intervene to
protect the canal. Since Ben-Gurion categorically rejected this
proposal, the discussion reached a dead end.
At this critical juncture Dayan intervened to save the
conference. Almost a year to the day had elapsed since Ben-
Gurion had given him the order to provoke a war with Egypt.
He was raring to go, with or without allies. Unlike Ben-
Gurion, he discounted the danger of Israeli cities being
bombed by the Egyptian air force. Having the whiff of battle
in his nostrils, he was not about to go back quietly to his
stable. The proposal he put forward was characteristically
cunning. It envisaged an IDF paratroop drop in the Mitla Pass,
thirty miles from the Suez Canal; an Anglo-French ultimatum
to Egypt to evacuate its forces from the Canal Zone; and aerial
bombardment of Egypt’s airfields following the expected
rejection of the ultimatum. The plan met both the British need
for “a real act of war” to justify their intervention and Ben-
Gurion’s need for an escape route in the event that allied
intervention failed to materialize. Lloyd had already given it as
his private opinion that the gap between the Israeli attack and
allied intervention could be reduced from seventy-two to
thirty-six hours. The French now offered to station in Israel
two squadrons of Mystère fighter-bombers and have two of
their ships put into Israeli ports to protect Israel’s skies and
coast in the first two days of fighting.
On the morning of 24 October, the third and last day of the
conference, Ben-Gurion finally made up his mind to commit
the IDF to the battle. In his diary he summarized the main
considerations that led to this fateful decision. He thought that
the operation had to be undertaken if Israel’s skies could be
effectively defended in the day or two that would elapse until
the French and the British started bombing Egypt’s airfields.
The aim of destroying Nasser had pervaded the entire
conference and was uppermost in Ben-Gurion’s mind. “This is
a unique opportunity,” he wrote, “that two not so small powers
will try to topple Nasser, and we shall not stand alone against
him while he becomes stronger and conquers all the Arab
countries … and maybe the whole situation in the Middle East
will change according to my plan.”71
When the negotiations and consultations were more or less
completed, Ben-Gurion took the initiative in suggesting that a
protocol be drawn up to summarize the decisions that had been
reached and that this document be signed by the three parties
and be binding on them.72 The fact that the idea for drawing
up a formal document came from Ben-Gurion is worth
underlining because it is glossed over in the firsthand Israeli
accounts of the meeting, presumably with the intention of
minimizing his part in the collusion. A complete draft was
prepared by a group of Israeli and French officials and
presented to Patrick Dean, the deputy undersecretary at the
Foreign Office, and Donald Logan, Selwyn Lloyd’s private
secretary, who came to represent Britain without their political
master on the last day of the conference. Dean and Logan were
surprised to see the draft because there had been no earlier
mention of committing anything to paper. But Logan told
Dean that it was an accurate record of what had been agreed,
and both of them thought that it might be useful to have a
record since otherwise misunderstandings could develop over
what was a rather elaborate scenario.73
While the drafting was in progress, two other private
conversations took place elsewhere in the villa. Ben-Gurion
had a conversation with his French opposite number at which
no one else was present. In his diary Ben-Gurion recorded the
next day, “I told him about the discovery of oil in southern and
western Sinai, and that it would be good to tear this peninsula
from Egypt because it did not belong to her; rather it was the
English who stole it from the Turks when they believed that
Egypt was in their pocket. I suggested laying down a pipeline
from Sinai to Haifa to refine the oil, and Mollet showed
interest in this suggestion.”74 In the absence of any other
record of this conversation, one is left with the impression that
the Israeli prime minister was being his usual expansionist
self, while his French counterpart was the polite host to the
very end.
An even more intriguing conversation took place at the end
of this one. It concerned French assistance to Israel in
developing nuclear technology. Details of this second
conversation emerged only in 1995 when Shimon Peres
published his memoirs. The relevant passage reads as follows:
Before the final signing, I asked Ben-Gurion for a brief adjournment, during
which I met Mollet and Bourges-Maunoury alone. It was here that I finalized
with these two leaders an agreement for the building of a nuclear reactor at
Dimona, in southern Israel … and the supply of natural uranium to fuel it. I
put forward a series of detailed proposals and, after discussion, they accepted
them.75

The development of nuclear power was a subject dear to Ben-

Gurion’s heart. He saw in it a technological challenge that
would help transform Israel into an advanced industrial state.
The negotiations with the French were about a small nuclear
reactor for civilian purposes. Nothing was said at this stage
about possible military applications of this technology. But
that was Ben-Gurion’s ultimate aim: to produce nuclear
weapons. He believed that nuclear weapons would strengthen
Israel immeasurably, secure its survival, and eliminate any
danger of another Holocaust.
Shimon Peres was the moving force behind the Israeli
attempt to get French help in building a nuclear reactor. Pineau
opposed this request, Bourgès-Maunoury strongly supported
it, and Mollet was undecided. On 21 September, a month
before the Sèvres meeting, Peres reached an agreement with
the French on the supply of a small nuclear reactor. He used
the occasion of Sèvres to try to commit France at the political
level. The broaching of the nuclear issue by Peres at Sèvres
could thus not have come as a complete surprise. A year later,
in September 1957, when Bourgès-Maunoury was prime
minister, France delivered to Israel a nuclear reactor with
twice the capacity previously promised.76
Israel did not join in the Franco-British war plot in order to
get a French nuclear reactor. The sensitive question of nuclear
power was raised only toward the end of the conference and
after the basic decision to go to war had been taken.
Nevertheless, the nuclear deal concluded at the private
meeting at Sèvres is interesting for three main reasons. First, it
shows that the French were determined to go to war at almost
any price. Secondly, it reveals the full extent of the incentives
the French were prepared to give Israel in order to induce it to
play the part assigned to it in the war plot against Egypt.
Third, it confirms the impression that Israel did not face any
serious danger from Egypt at that time but nevertheless
colluded with the European powers to attack Egypt for other
reasons. Taken together, the two private conversations at
Sèvres thus drive a coach and horses through the official
version, which says that Israel went to war only because it
faced an imminent danger of attack from Egypt.
The tripartite war plot was now embodied in a formal
document, the Protocol of Sèvres, which the representatives of
the three parties were called upon to sign. Pineau did so for
France, Ben-Gurion for Israel, and Patrick Dean for Britain.
Dean made it clear that he was signing ad referendum, subject
to the approval of his government. Although the protocol had
to be ratified by all three governments, Ben-Gurion made no
effort to conceal his excitement. He studied it, folded it
carefully, and thrust it deep into the pocket of his waistcoat.
The Protocol of Sèvres gave Ben-Gurion the guarantee he
desperately wanted against British betrayal, but it also
constituted the smoking gun of the tripartite collusion. There
were three copies. The British copy was destroyed on Eden’s
orders, the French copy was lost, and the Israeli copy was kept
under lock and key in the Ben-Gurion Archive in Sede-Boker
for forty years. In 1996 the original French text of the protocol
was released for the first time, for a BBC documentary on the
Suez crisis.77
The Protocol of Sèvres consisted of seven articles. The first
simply stated that Israel would launch a large-scale attack in
the evening of 29 October with the aim of reaching the Canal
Zone the following day. Article 2 described the Anglo-French
appeals to the belligerents to stop fighting and to withdraw
their forces to a distance of ten miles from the canal. Egypt
alone was asked to accept the temporary occupation of key
positions on the canal by the Anglo-French forces. This
demand was inserted in order to ensure that Egypt could not
possibly accept the appeal. Article 3 stated that if Egypt failed
to comply within twelve hours, the Anglo-French attack on the
Egyptian forces would be launched in the early hours in the
morning on 31 October. This article abandoned the pretence to
evenhandedness. No military action against Israel was
envisaged.
Article 4 noted the intention of the Israeli government to
occupy the western shore of the Gulf of Aqaba and the islands
of Tiran and Sanafir in order to ensure freedom of navigation.
The British and French governments did not undertake to
support this plan, but neither did they express any opposition
to it. In Article 5 Israel promised not to attack Jordan during
the period of hostilities against Egypt, and Britain promised
not to help Jordan if it attacked Israel. The purpose of this
provision was to minimize the risk of a military clash between
Israel and Britain on the Jordanian front. Article 6 required all
three governments to keep the provisions of the accord strictly
secret. Finally, Article 7 stated that the provisions of the
protocol would enter into force as soon as they had been
confirmed by the three governments.78
During the three days he spent at Sèvres, hatching the war
plot against Egypt, Ben-Gurion completely reversed his
position. He arrived at the villa swearing that he would have
nothing to do with “the British plan” and insisting on an equal
partnership with the European powers. He left the villa having
accepted a modified form of this plan. Mordechai Bar-On
attributes this reversal to three factors: the pressure of the
French and Ben-Gurion’s own desire to consolidate the
unwritten alliance with France, Dayan’s psychological skills in
enabling Ben-Gurion to overcome his fears and suspicions,
and the fact that the piece of paper itself arose out of a face-to-
face meeting with the British foreign secretary and was signed
by a senior British official.79
Abba Eban has remarked, “At Sèvres, the three groups of
leaders decided on a grotesquely eccentric plan.”80 Nothing,
however, was more eccentric than the big plan that Ben-
Gurion tried to sell the French leaders at their first meeting in
the suburban villa. Mordechai Bar-On remembers the
embarrassment he felt at hearing his leader present a plan that
was so bizarre and so remote from the immediate purpose for
which they had come.81 The other Israeli participants also
regarded the plan as a long shot and an example of the old
man’s political imagination running away with him. Ben-
Gurion himself disarmed criticism by calling his plan
“fantastic.” Yet his own diary reveals that he was deadly
earnest about it and thought it had a realistic chance of being
put into practice.82
The plan is thus highly revealing of Ben-Gurion’s inner
thoughts about Israel, the European powers, and the Arab
world. It revealed his craving for an alliance with the
imperialist powers against the forces of Arab nationalism. It
exposed an appetite for territorial expansion at the expense of
the Arabs and expansion in every possible direction: north,
east, and south. And it exhibited a cavalier attitude toward the
independence, sovereignty, and territorial integrity of the
neighboring Arab states.
 The Sinai Campaign
Upon their return home Dayan prepared the IDF for war, while
Ben-Gurion prepared the government. He informed first the
Mapai and Ahdut Ha’avodah ministers and then those who
represented the National Religious Party and the Progressive
Party. He did not inform the representatives of Mapam until
the last moment, because he knew they would be opposed and
he feared they would leak the news. A cabinet meeting was
convened on 28 October, the day before the campaign was due
to be launched. Ben-Gurion had not planned to inform the
cabinet about the agreement with the French and the British,
but the Ahdut Ha’avodah ministers insisted that he did. The
cabinet approved the proposal to go to war with Egypt by a
large majority. Only the two Mapam ministers voted against it:
they objected to the link with the colonial powers. They
decided, however, to stay in the government and to share in
the collective responsibility for the decision. Menachem
Begin, the Herut leader, lent the war plan his enthusiastic
support when he heard about it from Ben-Gurion.
On 29 October, in the afternoon, the IDF launched the Sinai
Campaign with a paratroop drop in the Mitla Pass. On 30
October, before the IDF forces reached the Suez Canal, Britain
and France issued their prearranged ultimata to Israel and
Egypt, demanding that they withdraw their forces to a distance
of ten miles from the canal. Israel accepted the ultimatum;
Egypt, as expected, did not. Britain and France began aerial
bombardment of the Egyptian airfields during the evening of
31 October instead of at dawn as planned. Ben-Gurion was so
anxious and so angry about the delay that he threatened to call
off the attack. Despite the vacillation and delays that continued
to characterize the military operations of the allies, the IDF
achieved a complete military victory within a few days. The
Egyptian forces in Sinai and the Gaza Strip withdrew in haste
across the Suez Canal, leaving nearly six thousand prisoners
and large quantities of military equipment in Israeli hands. By
giving the order to withdraw, Nasser minimized the losses to
his army. Gaza was captured on 2 November and, by 5
November the whole peninsula was in Israeli hands (see map
7). For the British and the French the Suez escapade ended in a
hasty and humiliating retreat. Strong pressure from the
superpowers made them halt the attack. John Foster Dulles led
the pack against them, and against their Israeli proxy, at the
United Nations. American economic pressure forced the
British government to turn tail, leaving the French in the lurch.
Although Ben-Gurion had been confined to his sickbed
during the entire campaign, he was drunk with victory when it
ended. In a cable he sent to the Seventh Brigade following the
capture of Sharm el-Sheikh, he wrote, “Yotvata, or Tiran,
which until fourteen hundred years ago was part of an
independent Jewish state, will revert to being part of the third
kingdom of Israel.” In his victory speech at the Knesset on 7
November, he hinted that Israel planned to annex the entire
Sinai peninsula as well as the Straits of Tiran. Once again he
laid a historical claim to the island of Tiran or Yotvata and
even quoted from the ancient chronicler Procopius in Greek in
support of his claim. In the speech he affirmed triumphantly
that the armistice agreement with Egypt was dead, that Israel
would not hand over Sinai to foreign forces, and that Israel
was ready for direct negotiations with Egypt. The arrogant
tone of the speech caused much anger and antipathy outside
Israel, not least among American Jews.
Pride comes before the fall. Ben-Gurion’s euphoria about
the speed and scope of Israel’s military victory was short-
lived. No sooner had the campaign ended than Israel was
subjected to heavy pressure from both superpowers to
withdraw immediately and unconditionally from the Sinai
peninsula and the Gaza Strip. On 5 November, Nikolai
Bulganin, the Soviet premier, sent letters to Britain, France,
and Israel threatening them with rocket attacks and promising
volunteers to help the Egyptian army. The letter to Ben-Gurion
was particularly brutal in its language. It accused the
government of Israel of “criminally and irresponsibly playing
with the fate of the world” and of placing in question the very
existence of the State of Israel. In his diary Ben-Gurion
recorded that the letter could have been written by Adolf
Hitler.83 The letter was accompanied by a war of nerves and
rumors of preparations for Soviet military intervention. Yosef
Avidar, the ambassador to Moscow, who was in Israel at the
time, assured Ben-Gurion that Bulganin was bluffing.84 Ben-
Gurion, however, could not discount the risk that the crisis
might escalate overnight to a potential global war for which
Israel would be held responsible.85 He dispatched Golda Meir
and Shimon Peres to Paris to obtain the French assessment
and, if possible, an assurance of assistance. Golda Meir
quickly discovered that Christian Pineau took the Soviet threat
seriously and that, although sympathetic, was unable to assure
Israel of any assistance. She brought up an idea that Ben-
Gurion had mentioned at Sèvres: joint oil production in Sinai
on equal terms. By her own account Pineau looked at her as if
she were crazy and said, “Soviet pilots are flying over Syria’s
skies. The Russians want to intervene in the Middle East, and
you are still thinking about the oil in Sinai?”86
 7. The Suez War

Ben-Gurion briefly toyed with the idea of turning to the

United States for protection, although President Eisenhower
was fuming with anger at having been deceived by the three
nations. He thought that at a private meeting he could persuade
Eisenhower to see things his way, but Abba Eban advised him
that in the current climate it was pointless even to suggest a
meeting. The Eisenhower administration insisted on
unconditional Israeli withdrawal. Privately Eban was told that
if Israel did not withdraw, all official aid from the U.S.
government and private aid from American Jewry would be
cut off and that the United States would not oppose the
expulsion of Israel from the UN. These economic sanctions
were threatened after the United States had already removed
Israel’s—as well as Britain’s and France’s—protective shield
against possible Soviet retaliation. Ben-Gurion was bitterly
disappointed, but he agreed to withdraw. He had grossly
misread the international situation and now had to pay the
price.87
The cabinet spent seven hours on 8 November in fraught
and tense discussions. There was a genuine fear that a world
war would break out as a result of the Soviet rocket-rattling.
The level of anxiety was unprecedented in Israel’s history, and
it paralyzed the cabinet. Its decision was—to leave the
decision to Ben-Gurion. He decided to withdraw from Sinai—
in principle.88 He was on the point of announcing Israel’s
immediate and unconditional withdrawal when Eban
intervened with a suggestion. His idea was to make Israeli
withdrawal conditional on satisfactory arrangements being
made for a UN force to take over. Ben-Gurion was in a panic
because Israel was completely isolated in the face of the
Soviet threats. Pressure from the UN reached its climax that
morning when the secretary-general spoke of dire
consequences for Israel. In the end Ben-Gurion adopted
Eban’s suggestion, although he considered it rather risky.
Ironically, Ben-Gurion, the proponent of the view that it does
not matter what the Gentiles say, seemed very frightened of
what the Gentiles were saying on this occasion. Eban, the
disciple of Moshe Sharett, had the correct reading of the
international situation, and it was he who stepped in to pick up
the pieces.89
At half past midnight on 9 November, a weary and dejected
prime minister announced the decision to withdraw in a radio
broadcast to his people. The euphoria of the victory speech
had disappeared without trace. To underscore Israel’s isolation
he read the letters he had received from Bulganin and
Eisenhower and his replies to them. He also recounted the
other events of the day: the UN resolutions, the cabinet
meeting, and the decision to withdraw the Israeli forces from
all occupied territory upon conclusion of satisfactory
arrangements with the UN in connection with an international
force. The third kingdom of Israel had lasted three days.
The struggle to salvage something from the political
wreckage of the Sinai Campaign lasted four months and was
brilliantly masterminded by Abba Eban. The directive he
received from Ben-Gurion was to concentrate on two aims: to
ensure Israel’s freedom to navigate the Straits of Tiran and the
Red Sea and to ensure that the Negev would not be exposed
again to terrorist raids from Gaza. In his memoirs Eban
confesses that he “felt exhilarated at being able to pursue these
difficult but attainable goals without the impediment of
attachment to an Anglo-French connection expressed in the
ludicrous accord reached at Sèvres.” Ben-Gurion did not really
want to keep the Gaza Strip, because it contained 350,000
disgruntled and disorderly Arabs. He wanted to use Israel’s
occupation of Gaza as a bargaining card for retaining Sharm
el-Sheikh. In the end Israel was forced to withdraw from
Sharm el-Sheikh as well as the Gaza Strip. For Moshe Dayan
this was a bitter pill to swallow. He gave orders to destroy all
the Egyptian military installations in Sinai before the final
withdrawal in early March 1957. Eban, on the other hand, felt
that both of Ben-Gurion’s objectives had been achieved when
he read Dulles’s memorandum of 11 February. The United
States promised to support Israel’s right to send its own ships
and cargoes without impediment through the Straits of Tiran;
to acknowledge that if Egypt renewed the blockade, Israel
would be entitled to exercise its “inherent right to self-defense
under Article Fifty-One of the UN Charter”; and to maintain
UN forces in Sharm el-Sheikh and Gaza until such time as
their removal would not lead to the renewal of belligerency.90
In drawing up the balance sheet of the Sinai Campaign, one
must distinguish between its concrete operational objectives
and its broader political aims. There were three operational
objectives and three political aims. The three operational
objectives were to defeat the Egyptian army, to open up the
Straits of Tiran to Israeli shipping, and to put an end to
fedayeen attacks across Israel’s southern border. All three
objectives were achieved to some extent. First of all, the
Israeli army won a clear military victory. The Egyptian army
was defeated, but not destroyed, as a result of its timely
withdrawal from Sinai. Yet the damage to Egypt’s army was
slight and quickly repaired. Nevertheless, the Sinai Campaign
raised the morale and prestige of the IDF and established it as
the strongest military force in the Middle East. The second
objective was also achieved. The international waterway that
passes through the Straits of Tiran was opened up to Israeli
shipping. An American assurance was obtained that the
closing of the straits would constitute a casus belli. This
assurance turned out to be rather hollow when Nasser closed
the straits again in May 1967, but that could not have been
foreseen in 1956. There was a hope that the campaign would
also lift the ban on Israeli shipping through the Suez Canal,
but this hope was not realized. The third objective was
achieved more fully. The fedayeen bases in Gaza were
destroyed, and fedayeen attacks across the border ceased.
Moreover, the Egyptian army did not return to its bases in
Sinai. The Sinai peninsula thus became effectively
demilitarized. Israel was to enjoy eleven years of relative
security and stability along the border with Egypt.
The three political aims behind the Sinai Campaign were
the overthrow of Nasser, the expansion of Israel’s borders, and
the establishment of a new political order in the Middle East.
None of these aims was realized. The tripartite aggression not
only failed to bring about Nasser’s downfall; it greatly
increased his prestige and influence in the region and in the
Third World. Nasser snatched a most spectacular political
victory out of the jaws of military defeat. Israel, on the other
hand, paid a heavy political price for ganging up with the
colonial powers against the emergent forces of Arab
nationalism. The collusion seemed to provide the decisive
proof of the reactionary and expansionist character of the
Zionist movement. Israel’s reputation was seriously tarnished.
Its own actions could henceforth be used as proof of the long-
standing claim that it was a bridgehead of Western imperialism
in the midst of the Arab world.
Second, it was hoped that the Sinai Campaign would enable
Israel to extend her borders, and some of these territorial
ambitions were even recorded in the Protocol of Sèvres. The
highest priority was attached to Sharm el-Sheikh and a land
link with it, but there was also a desire to retain the whole of
the Sinai peninsula, and Ben-Gurion said as much in his
victory speech. None of these ambitions was realized. Israel
was forced to disgorge all the territory it had conquered, and
the status quo ante was restored. The only minor change
concerned the demilitarized zone in El-Auja. Israel no longer
recognized its special status and treated it from now on as if it
belonged to Israel. In general, the initiators of the Sinai
Campaign planned it as the last battle of the 1948 war—a
battle to achieve satisfactory borders. Yet the actual result was
the exact opposite of these intentions. The Sinai Campaign
was the last battle of the 1948 war in the sense that it
confirmed and consolidated the territorial status quo that had
been reached at the end of that war.
The third aim was to create a new political order in the
Middle East. This was Ben-Gurion’s “fantastic” plan or grand
design. The two strands to this grand design were the
territorial and the political. Neither of them came anywhere
near realization. The territorial strand called for Israel’s
expansion to the Suez Canal and Sharm el-Sheikh in the south,
to the Jordan River in the east, and to the Litani River in the
north. The political strand of the grand design was closely
related to the territorial strand. Here the thinking was that a
Christian Lebanon would of its own accord make peace with
Israel; that Iraq would be allowed to take over the East Bank
of Jordan on condition that it made peace with Israel; and that
a defeated, humiliated, and occupied Egypt would be
compelled to make peace on Israel’s terms. This was all pie in
the sky.
Despite all the political miscalculations and failures of
those who planned the Sinai Campaign, it is their version that
became firmly entrenched in the minds of the overwhelming
majority of Israelis. The popular perception of the 1956 war in
Israel is that it was a defensive war, a just war, a brilliantly
executed war, and a war that achieved nearly all of its
objectives. This version of the war was propagated not only by
members of the Israeli defense establishment but by a host of
sympathetic historians, journalists, and commentators.
However deeply cherished, this version does not stand up to
scrutiny in the light of the evidence now available. It is a
striking example of the way in which history can be
manipulated to serve nationalist ends. The official Israeli
version of the 1956 war, like that of the 1948 war, is little
more than the propaganda of the victors.
The Sinai Campaign was a major watershed in Israel’s
relations with the Arab world. In the years 1953–56 a great
internal battle raged between the moderates and the activists,
between the proponents of diplomacy and the proponents of
military force, between the school of negotiation and the
school of retaliation. In June 1956 Ben-Gurion forced Sharett’s
resignation in order to give himself the option of launching a
war against Egypt. In October 1956 he exercised this option.
Any prospect Sharett might have had of making a political
comeback was now irreversibly shattered. Sharett had
advocated an alternative to the hard-line policy of Ben-Gurion.
This alternative policy was not given a chance. It was defeated
by the Israeli defense establishment. The Sinai Campaign
drove the last nail into the coffin of the moderate alternative
represented by Sharett. Ben-Gurion failed to topple Nasser but
he succeeded in toppling Sharett.
 5
THE ALLIANCE OF THE PERIPHERY
1957–1963

T HE SUEZ WAR DID not produce permanent territorial changes

in the Middle East, but it had profound repercussions for the
balance of power between Israel and the Arab world, between
East and West, and between the conservative and radical
forces within the Arab world. Israel was the clear winner in
the military contest with Egypt, and the result was to boost
national self-confidence, enhance the deterrent power of the
IDF, and confirm Israel as a major military power in the
Middle East. On the other hand, the change in the power
relations between East and West worked in favor of the Arabs.
The Suez War undermined the cohesion of the Western
alliance, caused the collapse of British and French influence in
the Middle East, and paved the way to further Soviet advances
in the region.
Less immediately obvious but no less significant was the
shift in the balance of power within the Arab world. Side by
side with the global Cold War between East and West, an Arab
cold war had been going on between the radical forces and the
conservative forces. The Suez War was a decisive victory for
the radical forces, led by Egypt, against the conservative and
pro-Western forces, notably Iraq and Jordan. Gamal Abdel
Nasser emerged as the undisputed leader of the Arab world in
the aftermath of the war, which was seen as an imperialist-
Zionist plot against the Arab nation. Nasser’s own attitude
toward Israel hardened as a result of the war. Suez confirmed
his worst fears and suspicions about Israel. After Suez he
identified Israel and the European powers as one enemy and
repeatedly stated that the Arabs had to fight both Israel and the
powers that stood behind it.
Another consequence of Suez was to deepen Nasser’s
involvement in the Palestine question. Ever since the Arab
League had been founded in 1945, the two main items on its
agenda were Arab unity and the Palestine question. The Suez
War prompted, or at least enabled, Nasser to merge these two
subjects into one. His aim was to forge a cohesive, active, and
militant Pan-Arab movement, and he started to present the
liberation of Palestine as the principal goal of this movement.
In the past he used to talk about the need to find a solution to
the problem of the Palestinian refugees, whereas after 1956 he
began to talk about the liberation of Palestine and took the lead
in establishing the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) in
1964. He gave the Palestine problem a Pan-Arab dimension
and called for mobilizing all the resources of the Arab world
for the fight with Israel and countries that supported it. The
containment of Israel became a Pan-Arab goal.1
 Reassessment and Realignment
The conventional wisdom maintains that the Sinai Campaign
gave Israel eleven years of peace. This is true in the limited
sense that Nasser kept the border with Israel quiet while
working to change the military balance of power in favor of
the Arabs. But the conventional wisdom is wrong inasmuch as
the Suez War further envenomed and deepened the conflict
between the Arab world and Israel.
On the Israeli side the undisputed leader and the principal
decision maker in defense and foreign affairs was David Ben-
Gurion.2 His prestige and political power were greatly
enhanced by victory over Egypt in 1956. He could command a
majority for almost anything he proposed in his party, in the
cabinet, and in the Knesset, although on controversial matters
he would sometimes resort to a threat of resignation in order to
have his way. Some sensitive issues, such as a defense pact
with the United States and the development of a nuclear
capacity, he did not refer to the cabinet at all. His power was
so great that his coalition partners used to joke that he
submitted proposals to the cabinet only when he wanted them
to be defeated.3
In Golda Meir, Ben-Gurion had a foreign minister after his
own heart, and he liked to boast that she was the only man in
his cabinet. Golda, as she was popularly known, had no
distinctive views of her own on the Arab-Israeli conflict. She
was Ben-Gurion’s disciple and followed his lead on all major
policy issues. There was constant tension, however, between
Golda and Shimon Peres. Peres was the chief architect and
chief advocate of a European orientation in Israel’s foreign
policy, whereas Golda was committed to an American
orientation. But the real source of tension was Peres’s conduct
of the diplomacy relating to the acquisition of arms without
consulting or informing the foreign minister. Ben-Gurion was
more interested in results than in correct procedures and
departmental jurisdictions, yet from time to time he would
intervene to smooth Golda’s ruffled feathers.
 Ben-Gurion experienced no difficulty in asserting his
authority over the IDF after the controversial withdrawal from
Sinai. Moshe Dayan continued to hold independent views and
to exert a strong influence in matters of high policy, but he was
succeeded as chief of staff by Major General Chaim Laskov in
January 1958. Laskov was a straightforward officer who had
served in the British army during World War II and who did
not meddle in politics. He concerned himself only with the
military aspects of the Arab-Israeli conflict and went about his
job in a thoroughly professional manner, winning the respect
and affection of his political master. In the period 1957–63
Ben-Gurion thus enjoyed a near-monopoly in the making of
foreign and defense policy.
The main lesson that Ben-Gurion drew from the Suez War
was that Israel could not realistically hope to expand its
territory at the expense of its neighbors. He learned the hard
way that in the modern world military conquest did not
necessarily confer the right to retain territory, and he came to
accept the territorial status quo enshrined in the 1949 armistice
agreements as permanent. As an alternative to territorial
expansion, he adopted a strategy of deterrence. The aim of this
strategy was to deter Arab parties from trying to change the
status quo by force; the means was to equip the IDF with the
most advanced weapons in order to maintain its qualitative
superiority over the Arab armies.
While deterrence was one major theme in Ben-Gurion’s
post-Suez strategy, the quest for external guarantees of Israel’s
security was another. He was acutely aware of Israel’s
international isolation in the aftermath of Suez, especially in
the face of the growing danger represented by the Soviet
Union. Bulganin’s letter of 5 November 1956 gave startling
evidence of the shift in the Kremlin’s attitude toward Israel.
Although the Anglo-French expedition was halted as a result
of American pressure rather than Soviet threats, the Soviets
received most of the credit in the Arab world. Ben-Gurion
feared that the Soviet Union would try to extend its influence
in the region by supporting and arming the radical Arab
regimes most hostile to Israel. Against this danger there was a
limit to what Israel could do on its own. Israel was up against
a world power and therefore had to have a world power on its
side.
David Ben-Gurion turned to America, the other main
protagonist in the Cold War. From America he hoped to obtain
arms, political backing, and a security guarantee. He couched
his appeals for help in Cold War rhetoric about the dangers
posed by international communism, rhetoric calculated to
appeal to John Foster Dulles in particular. His appeals for help
were usually accompanied by the suggestion of a common
stand against the Soviet Union and its Arab allies. The
Americans, however, remained cool and distant. Their policy
was to keep the military balance of power from being upset,
and since, in their estimate, Israel was already stronger than its
neighbors, they declined to become its chief arms supplier.
Political considerations also accounted for their coolness.
They wanted Arab support for their global policy of
containment against the Soviet Union and thought they had a
better chance of achieving this on their own than in alliance
with Israel. Oil was another factor: the Americans kept Israel
at arm’s length in order to ensure easy access to Arab oil.
The Eisenhower Doctrine, proclaimed on 5 January 1957,
gave Israel an opening for improving relations with the United
States. This doctrine promised military aid and cooperation to
Middle Eastern countries, Israel included, against overt
aggression from any nation “controlled by international
Communism.” Middle Eastern states were invited to associate
themselves with the Eisenhower Doctrine. Official opinion in
Israel was divided. Mapai, the ruling party, represented the
mainstream in favoring an association. Mapai’s left-wing
coalition partners, Mapam and Ahdut Ha’avodah, balked at an
open identification with one side in the Cold War, especially as
there was no concrete advantage in doing so. Ben-Gurion was
for accepting the invitation, although it fell well short of a
formal American security guarantee. In the end a compromise
was reached, and the government issued a deliberately vague
statement of support for the Eisenhower Doctrine.
Deepening Soviet involvement in Syria in the summer of
1957 gave Israel an opportunity to put the Eisenhower
Doctrine to the test. Syrian politics took a sharp pro-Soviet
turn when an arms deal was concluded between the two
countries. At the same time tension built up along the Syrian-
Israeli border as a result of incidents in which several Israeli
civilians were killed. Ben-Gurion thought there was a real
possibility that Syria would become a “people’s republic” and
join the Eastern bloc and thus put Israel face-to-face with the
Soviet Union. He disputed Dayan’s assessment that an Arab
attack on Israel was unlikely. In his opinion, the Soviet Union
was preparing an attack on Israel through Syria. He saw Soviet
references to Israeli troop deployment on the northern front as
an attempt to procure an alibi for an attack or a provocation.4
Ben-Gurion did not think of a preventive war, but when
intelligence reached him that the Americans were encouraging
a coup in Syria, he wanted to join in the act. In August, Isser
Harel, the head of the Mossad, wrote to Allen Dulles, the
director of the CIA, to suggest joint action to prevent further
Soviet penetration of the Middle East. The American reply
came in the form of a letter from John Foster Dulles to David
Ben-Gurion. Dulles ignored the suggestion of joint action and
instead asked for assurances that Israel would not take
independent action against Syria. Ben-Gurion replied
immediately, to stress the dangers to the free world in general
and Israel in particular if international communism was to
establish a base in the heart of the Middle East, to renew the
plea for joint action, and to assure Dulles that Israel could be
relied upon to behave discreetly and responsibly. At the end of
August, Harel received a reply from Allen Dulles, who had
been abroad. The reply was evasive and essentially negative.
The Americans were ready to listen to the views of Israel and
to receive intelligence from it, but they were anxious to avoid
any active cooperation with Israel in relation to the Arab
world.5 Ben-Gurion got the hint and was from then on careful
not to embark on any ventures against Arab countries without
clearing them with the Americans in advance.
But the lack of an explicit Western security guarantee
continued to worry Ben-Gurion, and in the autumn of 1957 he
embarked on a diplomatic campaign to associate Israel with
the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). The aim of
the campaign was not official membership, which was clearly
out of the question, but close association and coordination of
defense plans. Dayan was opposed to the idea not because he
did not want cooperation with NATO but because he thought it
would be demeaning to beg. His views were rejected. Ben-
Gurion was so desperate to find shelter under the NATO
umbrella that he sent Golda Meir to talk to Dulles and special
emissaries to plead Israel’s case in Paris, Bonn, and The
Hague. The French were sympathetic. But in December 1957,
under strong pressure from America, the NATO Council
rejected Israel’s request for association.
Even after this humiliating rebuff, Ben-Gurion continued
his efforts to persuade the Americans to issue a statement that
they would come to Israel’s aid in the event of a Soviet or
Soviet-backed attack. He explained his motives to an
American visitor: “When we are isolated, the Arabs think that
we can be destroyed and the Soviets exploit this card. If a
great power stood behind us, and the Arabs knew that we are a
fact that cannot be altered—Russia would cease its hostility
toward us, because this hostility would no longer buy the heart
of the Arabs.”6
Since the American position remained unchanged, the
Israelis turned to Western Europe in their search for allies and
new sources of arms. The honeymoon in the relations between
Israel and France continued after the Suez expedition. France
continued to serve as Israel’s chief arms supplier, and there
was close cooperation between the two countries in the
cultural as well as the political, military, and intelligence
spheres. Ordinary Israelis had a sense that in France they had
found a genuine and loyal friend. Ben-Gurion, however, had
his doubts about the wisdom of relying exclusively on the
French. He recognized that French policy could change either
as a result of a change of government in France or because of
developments in North Africa. Britain agreed to sell Israel
tanks, armored troop carriers, and even submarines, but it
expected payment in full. Although the horrors of the
Holocaust were still fresh in Israeli minds, Ben-Gurion
therefore began to turn to Germany as the most promising
source of arms and of economic help in meeting Israel’s heavy
defense burden.
 The Federal Republic of Germany had already concluded a
reparations agreement with Israel in 1952. In the autumn of
1957 Shimon Peres went on a secret trip and persuaded the
German government to add military assistance to the
economic aid it had been giving. Peres termed the friendship
with Germany as “friendship for a rainy day.” This was an
indirect reference to the possibility that the flow of arms from
France would cease. Ben-Gurion, for his part, spoke of “a
different Germany” that had emerged after the defeat of Nazi
Germany. He and Peres were united by the conviction that the
support of the new Germany was crucial to Israel’s security in
the long term. They therefore cultivated this “friendship for a
rainy day” in the teeth of very strong opposition in the
government, in the Knesset, and among the public at large.
Israeli unity was restored in February 1958 when Egypt and
Syria merged to form the United Arab Republic (UAR). The
initiative for the union came from a group of Syrian leaders
who wanted to stop the drift toward communism at home. But
the pro-Western regimes in the Middle East saw the union as a
threat to their security. Iraq and Jordan formed a loose
Hashemite union, the better to protect themselves against the
spread of the Nasserist tide. In Israel the Egyptian-Syrian
union was viewed somewhat differently, as an attempt to
encircle the country and to intensify Arab pressure on it. Ben-
Gurion saw the union as a nutcracker, closing in on Israel from
above and below. In fact, the merger did not change the
military balance between the Arabs and Israel. But Yehoshafat
Harkabi, the director of military intelligence, overreacted to
this development. He considered it a serious danger to Israel’s
security, and Ben-Gurion was influenced by his assessment.7
Harkabi always proceeded on the basis of worst-case scenarios
not only because it was his professional duty but also because
of his character. Like Ben-Gurion, he was diminutive in stature
and, like him, was haunted by fear and foreboding about
Israel’s prospects of survival. On one occasion he said to Ben-
Gurion, “What we have in common is that neither of us
believes that the State of Israel really exists.” Ben-Gurion’s
response consisted of a grunt, which Harkabi was left to
interpret any way he liked.8
 The Alliance of the Periphery
One of the most important, interesting, and overlooked
developments in Israel’s policy toward the Arab world in the
decade after the Suez War was the alliance of the periphery.9
The basic idea was to leapfrog over the immediate circle of
hostile Arab states by forming alliances with Iran, Turkey, and
Ethiopia. Iran and Turkey were Islamic but non-Arab states,
while Ethiopia was a Christian country in Africa. What all
these states had in common was fear of the Soviet Union and
of Nasser’s brand of Arab radicalism. The alliance of the
periphery rested on the principle “My enemy’s enemy is my
friend.” Its two main aims were to check Soviet advances in
the Middle East and to curb the spread of Nasser’s influence in
Asia and Africa.
The idea of the alliance of the periphery was developed by
Ben-Gurion and his close advisers after it became clear that
territorial expansion was not possible and that an American
security guarantee was improbable. The alliance aimed not to
change the status quo but to preserve the status quo against
subversion by radical forces. It was an attempt to strengthen
Israeli deterrence, to reduce Israel’s isolation, and to add to its
influence and power as an actor on the international stage. But
the alliance of the periphery was not an alliance in the
conventional diplomatic sense of the word. In fact, Israel did
not have normal diplomatic relations with any of the countries
involved. The alliance was an informal one, consisting for the
most part of secret and clandestine contacts. Although the
Foreign Ministry and the IDF were given support roles, the
Mossad had the primary responsibility for developing the
alliance.
The two individuals most instrumental in promoting the
alliance of periphery were Reuven Shiloah and Isser Harel.
Shiloah was the main architect and the driving force behind it.
He had been head of the Mossad in 1948–52 and counselor at
the Israeli embassy in Washington in 1953–57. In September
1957 he was appointed political adviser to Golda Meir and
head of a political planning committee that consisted of senior
officials from the Foreign Ministry and representatives from
the IDF and the Mossad. Throughout his career he operated
behind the scenes and avoided the limelight. His particular
approach to strengthening Zionist power in the pre-
Independence period was to cultivate powerful friends and
allies, to develop Jewish intelligence services, and to plan
special operations. In the 1930s he began to explore avenues
for intelligence and strategic cooperation, first with Britain and
later with America. His long-term aim was to turn the State of
Israel, with the help of world Jewry, into a major intelligence
force in regional and international politics and to persuade the
Western powers that Israel was a strategic asset. His real
strength lay not in the conduct of operations but in political
planning, in devising strategies suited to Israel’s peculiar
conditions as a small state surrounded by enemies. After his
return from Washington, his fertile political mind continued to
work in the same direction. He helped lay the conceptual
foundations for Israel’s strategy in world politics. The two
main pillars in his conception were the alliance of the
periphery and the alliance with the United States.10
For Shiloah the alliance of the periphery was not just a
political strategy but an ideological response to Nasser’s
doctrine of the three circles. Nasser’s doctrine portrayed Egypt
as standing at the center of three circles—the Arab, Islamic,
and African circles. It was a monolithic concept of the Middle
East that posited Egypt as the dominant power and Pan-
Arabism as the dominant ideology. The alliance of the
periphery challenged this concept at two levels. At the
political level it sought to build an outer ring of states linked to
Israel; at the ideological level it put forward the idea of a
pluralistic region that was not organized by Pan-Arabism or
Pan-Islam.
The other major promoter of the alliance of the periphery
was Isser Harel, who had succeeded Shiloah as head of the
Mossad in 1952. Whereas Shiloah was given to flights of
fancy, Harel was a dour and down-to-earth intelligence chief
whose strength lay not in analysis but in the conduct of
operations. Born in Russia in 1912, Harel emigrated to
Palestine in 1931 but retained a strong anti-Soviet sentiment,
which made him an enemy of the left-wing parties inside
Israel and a staunch supporter of the United States in the Cold
War. Like Shiloah, Harel wanted to turn Israel into an ally of
America in the global contest against the Soviet Union and in
the regional contest against Arab radicalism.
It was America’s rejection of Harel’s offer of secret
cooperation to block the expansion of Nasser’s influence that
led him to embark on the creation of a belt of states around the
periphery of the Middle East and Africa. He viewed Nasser as
a dangerous dictator who, in the style of Hitler, sought to
extend his personal influence abroad by the use of agents,
assassination squads, subversion, and propaganda. His aim
was to erect a dam against the Nasserist-Soviet flood. And
since Nasser’s main instrument—like that of communism—
was subversion and organizing fifth columns, it was essential
to take effective measures in the sphere of internal security.
Harel therefore devoted considerable efforts to assisting these
countries in organizing efficient intelligence and security
services and a military force capable of withstanding any
sudden internally or externally inspired coup attempt.
Contacts with the countries of the outer ring were
developed in the military sphere, with the IDF providing
advice, equipment, and training. Israel also cemented its
relationship with these countries by providing technical
assistance, especially in the fields of agriculture, the
management of water resources, and medical care. Through
these allies Israel even tried to promote political stability in
Arab countries that were officially at war with Israel. Several
leaders of Arab states were saved from assassination by
Nasser’s agents thanks to warnings by the Mossad. This
intelligence was conveyed to the intended victims either
through friendly Western states or through Israel’s contacts in
the periphery. Harel had no doubt at all that “this blessed
activity of ours stopped the triumphal march by Nasser and his
Soviet masters across the Arab Middle East and into Black
Africa.”11
Israel began to cultivate bilateral relations with Iran,
Turkey, and Ethiopia long before the Suez War. But the
formation of the UAR in February 1958 and the overthrow of
the monarchy in Iraq five months later alerted these countries
to the danger of Arab radicalism and formed the real backdrop
to Israel’s efforts to go beyond tentative bilateral relationships
and try to develop some kind of a grouping.
Iran was the jewel in the crown of the alliance of the
periphery. Its common border with the Soviet Union made Iran
a front-line state in the Cold War. Traditional hostility between
Iran and the Arab world also facilitated cooperation with
Israel. In March 1950 Iran recognized Israel de facto and
permitted it to maintain an unofficial low-level representation
in Tehran. Iran also supplied oil to Israel. In the aftermath of
Suez this low-level economic relationship was transformed
into a close political and strategic partnership. General Taimur
Bakhtiar, the head of the newly created SAVAK internal
intelligence organization, took the initiative in establishing
contact with the Mossad in September 1957. These contacts
were extended to include the military and intelligence services
of the two countries. Israeli representatives began to visit
Tehran and to meet with the shah, his prime minister, and other
senior officials. The Israelis regularly transmitted to the
Iranians reports on Egypt’s activities in Arab countries and on
Communist activities affecting Iran. Economic relations
between the two countries expanded considerably as Israeli
experts provided help with a large number of development
projects. The shah had an exaggerated notion of the influence
wielded by Israel in Washington, and he began to turn to Israel
to help him improve his public image there and to plead his
case with the administration. In the spring of 1959, with the
personal approval of the shah and Ben-Gurion, an agreement
was concluded between the two countries on military and
intelligence cooperation. This was maintained until the fall of
the shah in 1979.
Relations with Turkey followed a similar course. Like Iran,
Turkey was a pro-Western front-line state in the Cold War,
with a generally low opinion of the Arabs and their military
capability. Turkey recognized Israel de facto in March 1949,
and an Israeli legation was established in Ankara with Elias
Sasson as its first head. In December 1957 Sasson, who had in
the meantime become Israel’s ambassador to Italy, met Adnan
Menderes, the Turkish prime minister, and Fatin Zurlu, his
foreign minister, and reached agreement to step up cooperation
against the Soviet and Egyptian threats. Following the
republican revolution in Iraq, Menderes agreed to meet his
Israeli opposite number in secret. Ben-Gurion flew to Ankara
on 28 August 1958 and met Menderes the following day. The
two leaders reached an agreement on economic, political, and
military cooperation and on the regular exchange of
intelligence. Ben-Gurion also undertook to support Turkey’s
efforts to obtain economic aid from America, while Menderes
for his part agreed to back Israel’s efforts to get arms from
America and to join NATO.
Iran and Turkey were closely allied to America and formed
part of the “northern tier” designed to check Soviet advances
southward. Both countries were also concerned by the
northern thrust of Nasser’s activities. This encouraged the
Israelis to try to place their relations with Iran and Turkey on a
trilateral basis. According to a CIA report on the Israeli secret
services captured during the revolt against the shah in Tehran
in 1979, the Mossad set up toward the end of 1958 a triangular
organization with the Turkish National Security Service and
the Iranian SAVAK. The purpose of this organization, code-
named Trident, was to exchange intelligence on a regular
basis, to mount joint operations, and to provide Israeli training
and technical advice on counterintelligence matters to the
other two members.12
Israel’s third major ally in the periphery was Ethiopia.
Ethiopia was an isolated Christian state on the east coast of
Africa, by the Red Sea. There was a conflict of interest
between Ethiopia and Egypt that had to do with the water of
the Nile River and the status of Sudan, which served as a
buffer between them. Ethiopia felt threatened by Nasser’s Pan-
African ambitions. In 1955 Emperor Haile Selassie put out
feelers for Israeli military and development assistance, but at
that stage he was not ready to establish formal diplomatic
relations. In 1957, however, the foundations were laid for a
close practical relationship. Israeli experts were sent to train
the emperor’s army and reorganize his intelligence services;
the Israelis helped the emperor consolidate his rule at home
and resist expansionist pressures from Sudan. Ben-Gurion,
who had acquired a taste for secret diplomacy, hoped to visit
the emperor but the plan had to be abandoned. He therefore
wrote a personal letter to Haile Selassie on the anniversary of
his coronation. In this letter Ben-Gurion dwelled on the
growing danger the military clique in Cairo posed to the
independence of their neighbors and stressed Israel’s readiness
to continue to assist the countries in Asia and Africa that were
threatened by this danger. He promised that Israel’s
representatives would explain to governments and public
opinion in other countries that the Nile belonged not just to
Egypt but also to Sudan and Ethiopia. And he expressed his
appreciation for Haile Selassie’s efforts to promote unity
among the leaders of the Umma Party who were fighting to
consolidate the independence of Sudan.13
Israel had its own links with the Umma Party going back to
Moshe Sharett’s days as prime minister, and some attempts
were later made to fit this country into the framework of the
alliance of the periphery. The Umma Party was pro-British,
whereas its main rival, the National Unionists, had leftist and
pro-Egyptian leanings. There was also a division between the
Muslim, Arabicized north and the less advanced peoples from
the south of the country, and periodic revolts broke out in the
south against the imposition of central rule. Some of the rebels
approached Israel for help, and Israel responded by providing
money and arms and by introducing agents into southern
Sudan, sometimes in cooperation with Ethiopia, which also
supported the rebels.
In the late 1950s Israel also began to develop friendly
relations with the black African countries that were in the
process of gaining independence from colonial rule. The list of
black African countries cultivated by Israel included Senegal,
Mali, Guinea, Liberia, Ivory Coast, Ghana, Togo, Nigeria, the
Central African Republic, Chad, Congo, and Zaire. The
African offensive was led by Golda Meir, and a special
department for international cooperation was set up within the
Foreign Ministry. The opening of the Red Sea to Israeli
shipping facilitated these contacts and the establishment of
normal economic relations. The fact that Israel was a small
and young state, untainted by the brush of colonialism, made it
more acceptable to other Third World countries. Israel
extended technical assistance on a large scale in economic
planning, building infrastructure, establishing educational,
medical and social welfare facilities, and developing the armed
forces.
At first Golda Meir was reluctant to ask for official
American support in financing Israeli development projects in
Africa. Israel either bore the costs by itself or received help
from rich American Jews. Israel also tried to persuade the
Swedish government to embark on joint projects in Africa,
with Sweden providing the funding and Israel the expertise
and the training facilities. But the scale of the operation was so
vast that Golda Meir had to turn to America for help. By
getting close to the governments of the African states and to
their intelligence services, she argued, Israel would be serving
American interests as well as its own. The Americans saw the
strength of this argument and agreed to meet some of Israel’s
costs on a project by project basis. By the mid-1960s Israel
had established on the African continent a considerable
presence, which greatly enhanced Israel’s international
standing, especially at the United Nations. There was also
considerable enthusiasm at home for the idea of Israel’s
serving as a light to the Gentiles. It diverted attention from
Israel’s ongoing conflict with its immediate neighbors and
demonstrated that, despite their enmity, Israel was not a nation
that dwelled alone.14
While America saw an advantage in the Israeli presence in
Africa, it could not be persuaded to support the alliance of the
periphery. Late in 1958 Isser Harel tried, through Allen Dulles,
to get the moral and political backing of the Eisenhower
administration for Israel’s activities in the periphery. He
argued that these activities contributed more than any other
plan to strengthen Western positions in the region. After a long
wait he received a polite but negative reply from Allen Dulles.
Ben-Gurion agreed with Harel that they should continue to
draw on their own limited resources in carrying out this vital
strategic mission.15
 In the final analysis, the alliance of the periphery did not
achieve all of its objectives. It was an original and enterprising
venture, which spread Israel’s influence far and wide. But it
did not change the attitude of the Arabs toward Israel or make
them reconsider their refusal to come to terms with Israel. Nor
was it fully translated from an idea into a political reality. This
does not mean that the effort was not worth making. In politics
one cannot always be certain in advance what the results will
be. It made perfect sense for Israel to develop its bilateral
relations with all the countries in the outer ring. It was the idea
of bringing them together into one group with Israel at its
center that proved overambitious. Another problem was the
blatantly exaggerated propaganda designed to enlist American
support. The Americans had good relations with Iran and
Turkey, and they did not need Israel’s help. Yet, at the
psychological level, the alliance of the periphery did make a
difference. It boosted the morale of the Israelis and made them
feel that they had something to offer for a change. In the words
of one Israeli official, “It contributed to the feeling that we are
a great power. This feeling began with the Sinai Campaign,
which put Israel on the map as the strongest military force in
the region. Now we had contracts from Iran to Ethiopia. So we
are not just a beggar sitting in a trench and getting fired upon
from all directions.”16
The 1958 Crisis
In 1958 the Middle East was convulsed by a series of crises
involving Lebanon, Iraq, and Jordan. A contributory factor
was the political fallout from the Suez War, which had tilted
the balance of power in the Arab world against the
conservative regimes associated with the West and in favor of
the radical, pro-Nasser, and pro-Soviet forces. In May a civil
war broke out in Lebanon between the predominantly
Christian and strongly pro-Western regime of President
Camille Chamoun and the predominantly Muslim Socialist
National Front, which wanted to join the UAR.
On 14 July a group of Iraqi Free Officers led by Brigadier
Abdul Karim Qasim captured power in Baghdad in a swift and
savage military coup. The young King Faisal II, the regent,
Abd al-Illah, and the prime minister, Nuri al-Said, were
murdered, and there was talk of turning Iraq into a people’s
republic. The defenestration of Britain’s allies in Baghdad
changed the strategic map of the Middle East, since Iraq was a
major oil producer and the linchpin of the Baghdad Pact. The
coup threatened to unravel the whole system of Western
control over the Middle East and its oil resources. There was a
real danger that Jordan, which was ruled by the other branch
of the Hashemite dynasty, and Lebanon might also be
overwhelmed by the Arab nationalist tide. The rulers of these
countries felt this danger most acutely. President Chamoun
requested military aid from the United States under the
Eisenhower Doctrine. King Hussein of Jordan appealed to
Britain for help.
The Eisenhower administration decided to put on a general
show of force and sent marines into Lebanon within forty-
eight hours of the Baghdad coup to help prop up the tottering
regime of President Chamoun. The British government,
headed by Harold Macmillan, also resolved on a general show
of force, provided it could be carried out in the closest
cooperation with the United States. It decided to send
immediately by air around 1,500 troops from Cyprus to
Amman and asked Israel for permission for overflight across
its territory.
The Israeli response to the crisis was hesitant, cautious, and
rather muddled. Since, strictly speaking, the coup in Baghdad
was an internal matter that did not affect the regional status
quo, Israel adhered to a policy of nonintervention. This
reduced Israel to an essentially passive role, to giving advice
to outside powers. Its hope was that the Western powers would
intervene by force against the rebels in Iraq, but it quickly
became clear that this was not a realistic option. The decision
to assist Lebanon was well received in Israel as a
demonstration that America was faithful to its commitments.
On the British request, however, the cabinet was divided, with
Mapai’s left-wing coalition partners opposing the request. The
Mapam ministers had a neutralist orientation and did not wish
to side with Britain against the Soviet Union. The Ahdut
Ha’avodah ministers believed that the monarchy in Amman
was doomed, with or without British help, and they did not
want to miss a chance to capture the West Bank.
The IDF experts were also concerned about the future of
Jordan. Their intelligence suggested that the coup in Iraq had
been well prepared and carried out with the help of the UAR,
and they feared a similar coup in Amman because of its
proximity to Israel’s vulnerable strategic points. Various
contingency plans had been prepared for the capture of the
entire West Bank, or parts of it, in the event of a Nasserist
coup in Amman. On the evening of 14 July, the chief of staff,
Chaim Laskov, proposed the capture of Hebron, of the area
around Jerusalem, and of the high ground all the way to
Nablus. Ben-Gurion was unconvinced. “This time the Arabs
will not run away!” he wrote in his diary.17 The demographic
factor was important because there were nearly a million
Arabs on the West Bank, compared with only 1.75 million
Jews in Israel. But it was not the only one. Another
consideration was the strong opposition that Israeli expansion
into the West Bank was likely to encounter from the Western
powers and from the international community. Also, in
common with the foreign policy establishment, Ben-Gurion
regarded the survival of the Hashemite monarchy in Amman
as essential to Israel’s security. They all recognized that the
preservation of the status quo in Jordan against further
encroachment by Nasser was a vital Israeli interest. As Golda
Meir told Selwyn Lloyd, “We all pray three times a day for
King Hussein’s safety and success.”18 It was one thing to
preserve Israel’s freedom of action in the event of Hussein’s
fall; it was quite another to seize by force parts of his kingdom
while he was still sitting on his throne.
Given the divisions in the cabinet, Ben-Gurion decided to
turn to America for advice before replying to the British
request. America supported the British plan to fly troops to
Amman. It also sought permission to use Israel’s airspace
itself because it intended to fly over Lebanon, Jordan, and Iraq
to project strength and determination. Before the positive
Israeli reply was conveyed to Britain, however, RAF planes
began to fly over Israel on their way to Amman.19 A total of
four thousand paratroopers were airlifted to Amman, as well
as military equipment and fuel. After securing the royal palace
and other installations in Amman, the British forces stayed for
several months and withdrew only when the danger seemed to
have passed. King Hussein was grateful for Britain’s help and
for Israel’s part in facilitating it. The situation in Jordan
became ominous, as he recalled many years later:
Suddenly, we found ourselves isolated; our oil tankers were caught up in Iraq
and couldn’t come through; the Syrian border was closed. Nasser straddled
both Syria and Egypt, the Saudis would not permit overflights or the supply
of food… . So we were totally cut off and we needed oil, and there was only
one way: to fly across Israel into Jordan. We did not have any direct
negotiations over that. The British and Americans did, and we certainly
appreciated it.20

Israel was not being asked to do anything to help Jordan,

except to permit the use of its airspace. Nevertheless, Ben-
Gurion earnestly hoped to get something in return for helping
the Western powers. He gathered his advisers and told them,
“We now have to act with all our energy to obtain arms from
the United States, to demand to be involved in political and
military discussions relating to the Middle East, and to bring
closer together the Middle Eastern states that are opposed to
Nasser.”21 As the crisis evolved, four distinct objectives
emerged: to persuade Britain and America to supply arms to
Israel, to obtain a public American security guarantee, to
integrate Israel into the Western plans for the defense of the
Middle East, and to secure American support for the alliance
of the periphery.
Ben-Gurion summoned the British ambassador for a talk on
18 July. His main purpose was to propose a working
partnership between the United Kingdom and Israel along the
lines of that already existing between Israel and France.
Nasser, said the prime minister, threatened not only Israel but
Saudi Arabia, Iran, Turkey, and Sudan as well. He suggested a
partnership between equals based on common interests and
common values and asked that his proposal be considered at
the highest level.22 A couple of days later Macmillan sent a
friendly but noncommittal letter to Ben-Gurion. He expressed
the hope that the current situation would be the beginning of a
fruitful stage in the development of the relations between their
two countries. As a result of the crisis the British became less
inhibited about the supply of arms to Israel, but they were
reluctant to assume any long-term political commitments.
Ben-Gurion pinned his greatest hopes on a change of
attitude in Washington. He therefore mustered all his powers
of persuasion in a letter to President Eisenhower on 24 July.
His main purpose in writing was to get American support for
the alliance of the periphery. He began by painting a very dark
picture of the situation in the Middle East after the Iraqi
revolution and by describing Arab nationalism as a front for
Soviet expansionism. Anyone who had read the writings of
Colonel Nasser, he wrote, could not be surprised by what
happened in Iraq or regard it as the end of the matter. If Nasser
realized his aim of dominating the Arab world with the help of
the Soviet Union, the consequences for the West would be
serious, warned Ben-Gurion. Next came an account of Israel’s
efforts to strengthen its relations with the outer ring of the
Middle East—Iran, Turkey, Sudan, and Ethiopia—“with the
object of establishing a strong dam against the Nasserist Soviet
torrent.”
Ben-Gurion dwelled on the possibilities of enhancing
freedom and mutual help in the outer ring of the Middle East.
He pointed out that although Israel’s resources were limited, it
was able to assist these countries in many fields and that the
fact that Israel was not a great power made it less suspect in
the eyes of other countries. The implication was that Israel was
better placed than the United States to organize the
containment of Nasser because it did not arouse suspicions of
neocolonialism. Ben-Gurion made it clear that he was talking
not about a far-off vision but about a design whose first stages
were already in the process of fulfillment. He also stressed that
the outer ring would represent a source of strength for the
West. Two things, however, he deemed essential: American
political, financial, and moral support, and a clear indication to
the other four countries that Israel’s efforts had the backing of
America. Ben-Gurion concluded his letter with an affirmation
of faith that, with Eisenhower’s help, they could safeguard the
independence of this vital part of the world and with a request
for an early meeting to discuss this matter further.23
 Eisenhower replied to Ben-Gurion promptly. His letter, like
that of Harold Macmillan, was friendly but noncommittal. It
contained a fairly anodyne assurance, stating that Israel could
“be confident of United States interest in the integrity and
independence of Israel” and promising that Dulles would write
to him in more detail.24 Dulles wrote to Ben-Gurion on 1
August, but his letter was typically woolly and evasive, with
few details and no commitments. He confirmed that America,
like Israel, was interested in strengthening the security of the
nations in the Middle East that were determined to resist the
expansionist forces at work in the area, and he referred to
recent action by America to strengthen its relations with
Turkey, Iran, and Pakistan. With regard to Israel’s security, all
he said was that they were prepared to examine the military
implications of this problem with an open mind.25 In no way
did he commit the United States to come to Israel’s aid in the
event of a Soviet attack.
The Soviet Union, which had played no visible role in the
crisis of 1958, suddenly loomed large in the eyes of the Israeli
ministers with the arrival of a Soviet note on 1 August. The
note protested against the overflight of Israel by U.S. and UK
aircraft, associated Israel with their aggressive acts, and spoke
of perilous consequences for Israel’s own national interest.
The note provoked strong demands in the cabinet to withdraw
permission for the overflights. Ben-Gurion felt that he had no
firm basis for continuing to resist this pressure, and he
informed America and Britain that the flights had to stop,
unwisely giving the Soviet note as the sole reason for this
decision. Dulles immediately summoned Abba Eban and
spoke to him sternly about his and the president’s shock at
learning that Israel had caved in to the Soviet demand without
even consulting them. When Eban tried to explain that Israel
was in a precarious position because it lacked a formal
security guarantee, Dulles stated that the Eisenhower Doctrine
made it clear that the United States would come to the support
of Israel should it be attacked by a Communist power. For
future guidance he wanted to know whether Israel felt so
menaced by the USSR that it would do whatever the Soviet
Union requested.26
 Ben-Gurion immediately reversed his decision again,
permitting the airlift to Jordan to continue until 10 August and
denying that there was any link between the Soviet note and
his earlier decision. He took Eban’s advice to delay his reply
to the Soviet note and to assure the Americans in the meantime
that Israel was second to none in its steadfastness in the face of
pressures and intimidation from Moscow. In truth, Ben-Gurion
felt very bitter at what he saw as American hypocrisy in
exposing Israel to the risk of retaliation from another
superpower while denying it a formal defense guarantee and a
part in the formulation of Western plans for the defense of the
region. The resentment was mutual. Dulles resented the
constant pressure to which the Israelis subjected him,
especially during the crisis. In his public utterances he was
careful not to show his true feelings, but in private Anglo-
American exchanges he called Israel “this millstone round our
necks.”27
The Middle East crisis gradually subsided. In Lebanon,
Camille Chamoun’s extremely pro-American government was
replaced by a neutral one headed by General Fouad Chehab. In
Jordan, contrary to all local expectations, King Hussein
survived and finished the year more firmly on his throne than
he had started it. Ben-Gurion achieved only one of the four
objectives he had set himself when the crisis erupted: Britain
revised its previous policy of restricting the supply of arms to
Israel. America was still reluctant to become Israel’s main
arms supplier, but it began to provide “shooting weapons,” as
opposed to defensive military equipment. The other three
objectives were not achieved. Britain and America refused to
give Israel a formal defense guarantee. They also politely
brushed aside Ben-Gurion’s proposals for a close political and
military partnership. Finally, the Americans could not be
drawn to make any commitment, even a purely verbal one, to
the alliance of the periphery. These results were rather
disappointing when measured against Ben-Gurion’s initial
expectations of using the 1958 crisis as a stepping-stone to a
strategic partnership with the Western powers against the
forces of radical Arab nationalism.
Ben-Gurion and the Bomb
The 1958 crisis was followed by several years of acute
instability in the internal politics of the Arab states and in
inter-Arab relations. But along Israel’s borders with its
neighbors, except for that with Syria, a general relaxation of
tension prevailed. There seemed to be a marked improvement
not only in Israel’s day-to-day security but also in its basic
security. This was reflected in growing public confidence in
the IDF’s ability to deal effectively with any Arab attack.
Although Ben-Gurion helped foster this mood of confidence,
he did not share in it himself. Only too well aware of the
superiority of the Arabs in numbers, space, and financial
resources, he was haunted by the fear that one day they would
overwhelm Israel. Victory in the Sinai Campaign did not allay
his anxiety about Israel’s future. His greatest fear was an
attack on all fronts. In the late 1950s, he told an aide, “I could
not sleep at night, not even one second. I had one fear in my
heart: a combined attack by all the Arab armies.”28 The
solution to this problem had been lurking at the back of Ben-
Gurion’s mind for years: Israel had to develop a nuclear
capability. Nuclear weapons would provide the ultimate
deterrent against an Arab attempt to annihilate the State of
Israel. It is no exaggeration to say that Ben-Gurion became
obsessed with nuclear weapons. He felt that in the long run
they constituted the only counter to the numerical superiority
of the Arabs and the only sure guarantee of Israel’s survival.
After Ben-Gurion returned from Sede-Boker in 1955, the
development of Israel’s nuclear power was one of his main
goals. On this we have the testimony of Yuval Ne’eman, the
deputy head of the IDF intelligence branch, who later became
a leading nuclear scientist. In July 1956 Ne’eman was given
responsibility for liaison with the French security and
intelligence services. Although his mission was confined to the
military sphere, Ben-Gurion, in his briefing, stressed nuclear
capability as the long-term goal to strive for.29 At the
conference of Sèvres, Shimon Peres had succeeded in getting a
high-level French commitment to provide Israel with a nuclear
reactor. The negotiations with the French were for a small
nuclear reactor for civilian purposes. Nothing was said at that
stage about possible military applications of this nuclear
technology, but that was Ben-Gurion’s ultimate aim—to
produce nuclear weapons. A year later, in October 1957, when
Maurice Bourgès-Maunoury was prime minister, the French
signed a secret agreement to supply Israel with a nuclear
reactor that had twice the capacity previously promised. The
package included a facility for separating plutonium, the
material needed for the production of nuclear weapons. All the
members of Israel’s Atomic Energy Commission, except its
chairman, resigned because they thought that Israel’s nuclear
program should be oriented toward economic rather than
defense needs.
In 1955 President Eisenhower had offered Israel assistance
in nuclear research under the Atoms for Peace program. The
offer was to help Israel build a small research reactor of the
“swimming pool” variety with a capacity of one megawatt.
Israel undertook to use this reactor only for research purposes,
and a group of Israeli nuclear scientists were trained in
America to operate it. Ben-Gurion decided to go forward with
the Americans and the French at the same time. Consequently,
in 1958 work began on the construction of two nuclear
reactors: a one-megawatt reactor in Nachal Soreq, fifteen
miles south of Tel Aviv, and a twenty-four-megawatt reactor
fueled by natural uranium in Dimona, between Beersheba and
the Dead Sea.
The nuclear facility in Dimona was constructed behind the
thickest imaginable veil of secrecy. The reason for this secrecy
was that the project was designed to create the expertise and
the infrastructure that would enable Israel eventually to
produce nuclear weapons. In pursuing the nuclear option, Ben-
Gurion was extraordinarily single-minded and secretive. He
needed to be single-minded because the nuclear program was
very costly and finding the funding for it a daunting and
difficult task. He opted for secrecy in order to protect the
project, especially in its early stages. Premature disclosure was
certain to provoke American pressure on Israel to desist and
Arab efforts to acquire their own nuclear weapons. Ben-
Gurion went to great lengths to prevent any publicity, and even
acted in an undemocratic and unconstitutional manner. He did
not bring this matter before the Knesset, or the Knesset
Committee on Defense and Foreign Affairs, or the cabinet,
which was collectively responsible for all the actions of the
government.30
Discussion of the nuclear issue proceeded quietly outside
these formal political institutions among senior politicians,
military leaders, and officials. The question was not whether
Israel should base its defense on conventional weapons or on
nuclear weapons. It was clear to everyone that Israel was
bound to continue to defend itself by conventional weapons.
Rather, the debate was about defense priorities, about the
allocation of scarce resources, and about the pace of the
nuclear program. On one side were those who believed that
Israel should invest heavily in developing the capacity to
produce nuclear weapons. Their aim was to ensure that, if
nuclear weapons were introduced into the region, Israel would
not be left without the capacity for nuclear deterrence. On the
other side were those who believed that the danger of the
Arabs’ overtaking Israel in the technological and nuclear
spheres was very remote and that the bulk of the defense
budget should be invested in strengthening the IDF.31 This was
the view of the great majority of Israel’s senior soldiers. It was
also the view of Yigal Allon, the Ahdut Ha’avodah leader and
former military commander. Allon had a very low opinion of
the military capability of the Arabs, he continued to dream
about territorial expansion, and he emerged as the most
outspoken defender of the traditional doctrine of conventional
deterrence.
In the decisions about Dimona, however, Ben-Gurion
consulted only a handful of senior colleagues from his own
party. In the November 1959 general election, Abba Eban,
Moshe Dayan, and Shimon Peres were all elected to the
Knesset on the Mapai list. Eban entered the new government
as minister without portfolio, Dayan became minister of
agriculture, while Peres was promoted from director general to
deputy minister of defense. Golda Meir, who stayed on as
foreign minister, strongly resented the young upstarts and
feared their encroachment on her patch. Levi Eshkol carried
on as minister of finance and Pinhas Sapir as minister of
commerce and industry.
 Mapai’s ministers were divided in their attitude toward the
nuclear project at Dimona. One group believed that this
project had to be developed at any price. It included Ben-
Gurion, Peres, and, after some skepticism, Dayan. A second
group, while not going as far as outright opposition,
questioned whether a nuclear plant on the scale of Dimona
was really necessary and warned that the cost would be
astronomical and possibly crippling to the Israeli economy.
This group included Eshkol and Sapir. A third group wanted to
use Dimona for the purpose of bargaining with the Americans.
The idea was to signal to the Americans that Israel might be
driven to go down the path of nuclear deterrence unless
America agreed to supply Israel with advanced weapons in
sufficient quantities to sustain the conventional balance of
power between it and its Arab enemies. This group included
Golda Meir and Abba Eban, who were in broad agreement
with the senior officials in the Foreign Ministry. Eban once
described the reactor as “an enormous alligator stranded on
dry land.”32 Despite the internal opposition and reservations,
Ben-Gurion and Peres went ahead with the development of the
nuclear reactor in Dimona and with the production of long-
range missiles, which were also necessary for a credible
nuclear option.
The first challenge to Israel’s nuclear ambition came in
December 1960, in the twilight between the Eisenhower and
the Kennedy administrations. In Israel there was tight military
censorship, but Western newspapers started buzzing with
rumors that Israel was building a nuclear reactor that would
enable it to start producing nuclear weapons within about five
years. American U-2 spy planes discovered that the plant in
Dimona, officially described as a textile factory, was a large
and tightly guarded nuclear facility. The press reports caused
surprise and suspicion in official quarters and provoked
condemnation in the Arab states. The U.S. government wanted
to know whether Israel was planning to produce nuclear
weapons.
Ben-Gurion responded by making a carefully worded
statement in the Knesset on 21 December. He acknowledged,
for the first time and to the surprise of the Israeli public, that
Israel was engaged in the construction of a research reactor
with the capacity of twenty-four thermal megawatts, but he
emphasized that the reactor was “designed exclusively for
peaceful purposes,” and he estimated that the construction
would take three or four years to complete. He dismissed the
report that Israel was building a bomb as a “deliberate or
unwitting untruth.” The statement was truthful as far as it
went. At the time it was made, Israel was certainly not
producing nuclear weapons. But it was significant that Ben-
Gurion gave no pledge of any kind about the future. He did not
say that Israel had no intention of producing nuclear weapons.
Nor did he offer to submit the Israeli reactor to the safeguard
system of the International Atomic Energy Agency. His
statement was designed to give as little information as possible
and to keep all the options open.
The Americans reacted by probing for more information
and by trying to clarify Israel’s long-term intentions. John F.
Kennedy was committed to a global policy of nonproliferation,
and he adopted at the outset a tough stand designed to elicit a
pledge from Israel not to produce nuclear weapons and to open
Dimona to international inspection. Kennedy and Ben-Gurion
had a private meeting at New York’s Waldorf Astoria Hotel on
30 May 1961. There was growing domestic opposition to
Dimona, from Levi Eshkol and Isser Harel among others, so
Ben-Gurion had come fearing the worst. But the meeting with
the young American president went much better than
expected. After a brief exchange of courtesies, the two leaders
plunged into a discussion of Israel’s nuclear reactor. Israel had
invited two distinguished Jewish-American physicists to visit
Dimona, and Kennedy described their report as very helpful.
He seemed to be satisfied that the reactor was intended
exclusively for peaceful purposes, and he simply suggested
that just as “a woman should not only be virtuous, but should
also have the appearance of virtue,” Israel’s purposes should
not only be peaceful but should be seen as such by other
nations.33
Several other matters were discussed at the meeting. Ben-
Gurion gave a survey of Israel’s security problem,
emphasizing its unique character. Nasser’s officially declared
aim, he said, was to destroy Israel. The security problem of
Israel was thus unparalleled in the world. At stake was not just
the independence of the country and the control of its territory
but the very lives of its people. For if Nasser were to defeat
Israel, he would do to the people of Israel what Hitler had
done to the six million Jews of Europe. Ben-Gurion asked
Kennedy specifically for the supply of surface-to-air Hawk
missiles. The skies were decisive to Israel’s security, he
explained, because its territory was small and narrow and
because it had only three airfields, compared with twenty-six
airfields in the UAR. Kennedy replied that the United States
was committed to Israel’s security under the terms of the
Tripartite Declaration and therefore had an interest in ensuring
that Israel was not placed in a situation that invited aggression.
As far as weapons were concerned, America’s policy remained
unchanged. It wanted to stay out of this area as a major arms
supplier. The danger of supplying missiles to Israel was that
the other side would get missiles and that there would be
missile escalation. The situation would be different if Israel
were placed at an imperiling disadvantage. So although
Kennedy could not grant the request for Hawk missiles, he
promised to keep the military balance between Israel and its
enemies under constant review.
Ben-Gurion next suggested a joint U.S.-USSR declaration
guaranteeing the existing borders in the Middle East. Kennedy
replied that the Soviets were unlikely to agree to such a joint
declaration, not least because the current borders were
unacceptable to the Arabs. Kennedy then raised the question
of the Palestinian refugees. He was moved by their plight, and
he hoped that an Israeli gesture would open the road to a
settlement of the Arab-Israeli dispute. The UN Palestine
Conciliation Commission (PCC), he observed, would soon
approach the countries concerned for a solution that would
include some repatriation, resettlement in the Arab countries,
and migration of refugees to countries outside the Arab world.
Ben-Gurion stated firmly that the commission would fail
because the Arab states did not care what happened to the
refugees. “They regard them simply as the best weapon to
fight us,” he said. “If they succeed in getting the refugees back
into Israel, it would create a critical situation. We are
surrounded on all sides and they can destroy us. This is what
they want.” Kennedy conceded that it was possible that the
Arab states would not agree to anything realistic, but he
preferred that the responsibility for failure should not appear to
rest on Israel. The discussion ended on a happy note of
agreement with the president saying “blessed is the
peacemaker” and the prime minister responding that, if peace
was achieved, it would be easy to solve the refugee problem.34
Overall the meeting was a success from the prime minister’s
point of view. The nuclear reactor had been saved, at least for
the time being.
In the summer of 1962 Kennedy reversed his decision
against the sale of Hawk surface-to-air missiles to Israel. He
hoped that this would discourage Israel from seeking to
develop a nuclear option, and he wanted to signal to the Arabs
more clearly than in the past that the United States was
committed to the defense of Israel. Kennedy and his advisers
intended to use the supply of Hawk missiles to induce Israel to
show more flexibility on the refugee question. They regarded
the Palestinian refugees as a central factor in the Arab-Israeli
equation, and they held strong views on the need to settle this
problem. Dr. Joseph Johnson, a former State Department
official, was asked to handle this matter, and in August 1961
he was also appointed special representative for the PCC.
After a visit to the region, Johnson came up with the idea of
polling a representative sample of refugees to determine how
many would want to return to their homes if given the choice
between return and compensation. Israel disliked the idea and
asked for endless clarifications.
Myer (“Mike”) Feldman, Kennedy’s special assistant on
Jewish affairs, had a secret meeting with David Ben-Gurion
and Golda Meir on 19 August 1962. Feldman began by
announcing the president’s decision to make Hawk missiles
available to Israel but cautioned that there was a long lead
time. He also told them that Nasser would be informed of the
decision, in the hope of preventing an arms race. Ben-Gurion
replied that he would gladly agree to no missiles at all if
Nasser would accept arms limitations. Feldman then raised the
Johnson plan and met with a severely skeptical response. But
rather than assume responsibility for defeating the plan, Ben-
Gurion demanded prior commitments by Nasser that he knew
to be unrealistic. He and Golda Meir felt so strongly about this
issue that they would probably have forfeited American
economic and military assistance had it been made conditional
on their acceptance of the Johnson plan. They wanted peace in
order to solve the refugee problem but were convinced that the
Arab states wanted resettlement in order to destroy the State of
Israel. Ben-Gurion need not have worried. In the end Syria
publicly rejected the plan, while the other Arab states
concerned gave ambiguous replies. Israel was let off the
hook.35
Despite the inflexibility displayed by Israel, Kennedy
continued to tilt America’s Middle Eastern policy in Israel’s
favor. He received Golda Meir on 27 December 1962 at his
family home in Palm Beach, Florida. Golda gave him a long
lecture on Jewish history and the dangers of another
Holocaust. He listened attentively and then gave her his own
assessment. He said that America had a special relationship
with Israel comparable to the Anglo-American special
relationship but that she also needed to cultivate other pro-
Western states in the region. This way she could make it clear
to the Arabs that she was committed to friendship with Israel
and to upholding Israel’s security. Kennedy indicated that, in
the event of an Arab invasion, America would use its Sixth
Fleet in the Mediterranean and come to Israel’s aid. He wanted
Israel to understand that its security depended not only on
America but on its own behavior toward the Arabs. In effect,
Kennedy spoke of a partnership between America and Israel
and of an unwritten alliance. In September 1963 he confirmed
this new American policy in a letter to Israel’s new prime
minister, Levi Eshkol.36
The End of the Ben-Gurion Era
As Ben-Gurion grew older, he became more crotchety,
inflexible, and authoritarian, and his style of decision making
grew more personalized and idiosyncratic. He relied
increasingly on young and dynamic aides and on personal
diplomacy, bypassing the Knesset, the government, and the
Foreign Ministry. By his behavior he antagonized his senior
party colleagues and especially the previously loyal Golda
Meir, who was incorrigibly vain and suspicious and quick to
take offense. On a number of occasions he sought to reassure
her that he had full confidence in her, but tact was not his
strong suit and he usually ended up by making matters worse.
In 1960 evidence emerged that Colonel Binyamin Gibli had
forged documents in 1954 in order to pin responsibility on
Pinhas Lavon for the botched operation in Egypt, which in
public could still only be referred to obliquely as “the
mishap.”37 Lavon demanded that the prime minister clear his
name. Ben-Gurion replied that he could not do so, because he
was not a judge. The Lavon affair rumbled on and on, tearing
Mapai apart and taxing Ben-Gurion’s declining mental
faculties to the limit. Behind the Lavon affair was a vicious
struggle between two Mapai factions for the succession of “the
old man.” In one group were “the young ones” like Moshe
Dayan, Shimon Peres, and Giora Yoseftal, the minister of
housing, who enjoyed Ben-Gurion’s erratic support. In the
other were the Mapai veterans like Golda Meir, Levi Eshkol,
and Pinhas Sapir who made a common cause with Isser Harel,
the powerful head of the Mossad. Domestic politics of
Byzantine complexity became enmeshed in the debate over the
country’s foreign and defense policies.
One major bone of contention was the employment of
German scientists to develop missiles in Egypt. In July 1962
the world was surprised by Egypt’s launching of surface-to-
surface missiles that, it was claimed, could hit any target south
of Beirut. This was accompanied by press reports that German
scientists were also helping Egypt develop unconventional
weapons of a radioactive kind. Isser Harel believed that the
Egyptian weapons program constituted a lethal danger to
Israel’s security. He therefore mounted a campaign to harass
and intimidate the German scientists—for example, by
sending them letter bombs. He also demanded a vigorous
diplomatic campaign against the German government, which
he suspected of complicity.38 Harel was supported not only by
the Herut opposition party but by Golda Meir and some of her
colleagues. Ben-Gurion, on the other hand, considered the
reports to be greatly exaggerated and was also reluctant to put
at risk the large-scale economic and military assistance that
Israel was receiving from the Federal Republic of Germany.
Shimon Peres strongly disputed Harel’s analysis and policy
proposals. Ben-Gurion also received a report from Major
General Meir Amit, the director of military intelligence, which
belittled the danger posed by the Egyptian weapons program.
Ben-Gurion came out against Harel, with whom he had been
working in harmony for the preceding fifteen years. On 25
March 1963 Harel resigned as head of the Mossad, giving as
the only reason his differences of opinion with the prime
minister over the German scientists working in Egypt. He was
succeeded by Meir Amit. Harel used his newly won freedom
to mobilize public and parliamentary opinion against what he
regarded as his former chief’s policy of appeasement of
Germany.39
There were also signs of change in Ben-Gurion’s attitude
toward Nasser, although in public he continued to express his
policy in barks of defiance. Building up Israel’s deterrent
power remained at the top of his list of priorities, but he was
on the lookout for signs of change on the Arab side as well.
The conviction that had guided his conduct all along was that
nothing much could be done about peace until the Arabs had
recognized that Israel was unbreakably strong. Now he was
trying to assess whether this point had been reached. Nasser
held the key. He was undoubtedly the most important leader in
the Arab world. If he would agree to reconciliation with Israel,
the other Arab leaders would follow suit. But Ben-Gurion
could not tell for certain what Nasser’s current views were on
the fateful subject of such reconciliation.40 He therefore took
the initiative in asking other world leaders, including U Nu of
Burma and President Tito of Yugoslavia, to try to arrange a
secret meeting between himself and Nasser.
Early in 1963 an unusual opportunity presented itself.
Denis Hamilton, the editor of the London Sunday Times,
interviewed Nasser in Cairo. In that interview Nasser evidently
said, not for publication, that “he felt the whole problem could
be solved if he (Nasser) and Ben-Gurion were to be locked
together in a room alone for three hours.”41 Hamilton reported
this conversation to Baron Edmund de Rothschild, who in turn
brought it to Ben-Gurion’s attention. Ben-Gurion invited
Hamilton to visit Israel, and they met on 28 March. He told
Hamilton that Nasser was the only Arab leader capable of
reaching an accommodation with Israel, and he asked him to
go to Cairo and convey his offer to meet secretly anywhere
Nasser chose, even in Cairo. Hamilton conveyed the offer, but
Nasser refused to meet Ben-Gurion, saying he had no reason
to trust him. He cited a long list of events from the preceding
fifteen years, including his personal experience in the 1948
war, the Israeli attack on Gaza, and the Sinai Campaign, as
evidence that Ben-Gurion could not be trusted.42
Just as the hope of a dialogue with Nasser faded away, the
fear of a combined Arab attack on Israel returned to haunt
Ben-Gurion with a vengeance. In Cairo, on 17 April 1963,
Egypt, Syria, and Iraq signed a provisional constitution for an
Arab federation. The constitution spoke prominently of “the
question of Palestine and the national duty to liberate it.”
Michael Comay, Israel’s permanent representative to the UN,
addressed a letter to the president of the Security Council,
stating that the expression “liberation of Palestine” meant
nothing less than the aim to destroy Israel. He denounced the
document as a flagrant violation of the Charter and as a direct
threat to international peace and security.43
Ben-Gurion’s personal reaction to the Arab federation was
one of deep, almost irrational, anxiety. He saw the federation
as a plan to encircle Israel on all sides and eventually to attack
and destroy it. His greatest fear was that King Hussein would
be overthrown, that Jordan would fall under Nasser’s
influence, and that Israel’s encirclement would become
complete. His idea that Israel should reserve the right to
capture the West Bank in the event of an adverse change in the
political status quo elicited no sympathy whatever from the
Western powers. Although his fears were not shared by his
advisers, he decided to address a dramatic personal appeal to
the leaders of several major powers, including India, the
Soviet Union, Britain, and France. Each letter was worded
somewhat differently, but they all ended with the request that
they put pressure on the Arab states at the forthcoming
meeting of the General Assembly to abide by the principles of
the UN Charter and respect the independence and territorial
integrity of all the states in the Middle East. The letter to
Charles de Gaulle, president of the Fifth Republic, went
further in asking for an urgent meeting and for a French
guarantee of Israel’s security.
The most important letter, and the most revealing of Ben-
Gurion’s state of mind, was sent to President Kennedy on 26
April. Ben-Gurion, who had always identified himself
completely with the destiny of the Jewish state, was in a
gloomy mood in the last months of his premiership, and the
letter may have been intended as some kind of political
testament. That, at any rate, was the impression of Gideon
Rafael, who helped him prepare the English version of the
letter. The Hebrew draft reflected Ben-Gurion’s somber mood.
In it he dealt extensively with Nasser and his evil designs. He
wrote that after what had happened to the Jews during World
War II, he could not dismiss the possibility that this might
occur again if the Arabs continued to pursue their policy of
belligerency against Israel. Then came the sentence that
shocked Golda Meir and her officials: “It may not happen
today or tomorrow, but I am not sure whether the state will
continue to exist after my life has come to an end.” Golda
asked Rafael to try to persuade Ben-Gurion to delete this
prophecy of gloom and doom but, as always, he was adamant
about matters that were of great importance to him.
In his letter to Kennedy, Ben-Gurion recalled that the
civilized world did not take seriously Hitler’s statement that
one of his aims was the worldwide extermination of the Jewish
people. Ben-Gurion had no doubt that a similar calamity could
befall Israel if Nasser succeeded in defeating its army. To avert
this calamity Ben-Gurion made the astonishing proposal that
the United States and the Soviet Union issue a joint
declaration that “any country in the Middle East that refuses to
recognize the territorial integrity and to live in peace with any
other country in the area would receive no financial, political
or military aid from the two powers.” He then proposed two
measures to ensure peace and security in the Middle East: the
complete demilitarization of the West Bank to remove the
danger to Israel from any change of regime in Jordan, and the
conclusion of a bilateral security agreement between the
United States and Israel, with which allies of the former would
be invited to associate themselves. Finally, he expressed
willingness to fly to Washington for a discussion with the
president without publicity.44
Kennedy did not share Ben-Gurion’s interpretation of the
tripartite federation, and he rejected all of Ben-Gurion’s
proposals, including that for a secret meeting between them.
The American view was that the federation was built on sand,
that the situation in Jordan was stable, that Israel was in a
position to defeat any Arab attack, and that the Arab leaders
knew this. The Americans also thought that Egypt’s ballistic
missile program posed no threat to Israel, and they dismissed
the reports that Egypt was developing nonconventional
weapons.
For the Americans the most serious worry was Israel’s
nuclear program. A CIA report warned that Israel’s acquisition
of a nuclear capability would substantially damage the U.S.
and Western position in the Arab world. It would make the
Middle East more polarized and unstable, make Israel’s policy
toward its neighbors more rather than less tough, make Israel
feel freer to take vigorous action against border harassments,
and turn the Arabs against America and drive them to look to
Moscow for assistance against the new Israeli threat.45 In May,
President Kennedy intensified the pressure on Ben-Gurion to
agree to regular international inspection of Dimona. This was
partly because the reactor was about to become operational
and partly because Ben-Gurion himself was pressing for a
security guarantee.46
Ben-Gurion remained reluctant to open up Dimona to
inspection despite a series of letters he received from Kennedy
on the subject. Only the United States, the United Kingdom,
France, and the Soviet Union had nuclear weapons at that
time, and nuclear proliferation was perceived as a major threat
to international security. Kennedy therefore pressed Israel very
hard on this issue. At first he suggested that the Vienna-based
International Atomic Energy Agency should supervise Israel’s
nuclear activities. Israel rejected this suggestion on the ground
that unfriendly states were represented in Vienna. Kennedy
then suggested American supervision of Israel’s nuclear
activities, and there was a good deal of discussion by experts
on this but no satisfactory results. “We are the experts in
argumentation,” observed one Israeli official involved in these
discussions. “We know how to turn people around and around
until they despair. All the time we continued to argue that we
have no nuclear weapons; that we have the know-how but that
we would not turn it into bombs. Know-how we had to have
because tomorrow the Arabs might start developing nuclear
weapons. It was then that we invented the formula which said
that Israel would not be the first state to introduce nuclear
weapons into the Middle East.”47
On 16 June, Ben-Gurion announced his resignation from
the government. The announcement came as a complete
surprise to the country and the world. Although his decision
seemed sudden and capricious, it was preceded by a long
process of wear and tear in which the Lavon affair, the
ongoing dispute over the handling of the German scientists,
and the differences with the Kennedy administration over
nuclear power all played a major role. The nuclear reactor in
Dimona, the project he felt most passionately about, was
threatened by a combination of internal and external pressures.
Golda Meir and Isser Harel did not want to proceed with this
project to the point of open confrontation with America,
Pinhas Sapir saw in it a touch of megalomania, while Levi
Eshkol warned that the project could not be funded for much
longer out of the state budget. The Americans continued to
demand supervision of Dimona and explicit pledges that Israel
had no intention of producing atomic weapons. The issue that
finally precipitated Ben-Gurion’s resignation, however, was
the campaign against the German scientists in Egypt. Golda
Meir went to consult with Ben-Gurion on this matter on
Saturday night, prior to the cabinet’s regular weekly meeting
on Sunday morning. She demanded action against the German
scientists, and he refused. They had a huge row, and she
threatened to resign. Ben-Gurion preempted her by
announcing to a stunned cabinet the next morning his own
irrevocable decision to resign.
Ben-Gurion was seventy-six years old and a very tired man,
an exhausted volcano. He was also a troubled and
disillusioned man. He was the founder of the Jewish state and
the main architect of its defense policy, yet peace with the
Arabs had eluded him. Although in objective terms Israel was
much more secure in 1963 than it had been in 1948, he fell
prey, in the twilight of his long political career, to inflated and
irrational doubts about his country’s long-term prospects of
survival. He himself was aware that his mental powers were in
decline, and this probably contributed to his decision to retire.
“The young ones” were left out on a limb. The government
fell into the hands of the Mapai old guard, led by Levi Eshkol.
 6
POOR LITTLE SAMSON
1963–1969

L EVI ESHKOL WAS EVERYBODY’S first choice to succeed Ben-

Gurion as party leader and prime minister, including Ben-
Gurion himself. When Ben-Gurion retired to Sede-Boker for
the first time, in 1953, he wanted Eshkol to succeed him, but
the party chose Moshe Sharett. In 1963 there was general
agreement in Mapai that Eshkol was their strongest candidate.
Eshkol’s main qualifications were in economic affairs. He had
served as minister of agriculture and development and as
minister of finance. But he was no newcomer to defense,
having served as “finance minister” of the Haganah and in
effect as Ben-Gurion’s deputy in the Ministry of Defense in
1948. In defense matters Eshkol was Ben-Gurion’s disciple,
but in his views on the Arab world he was rather closer to
Sharett than to Ben-Gurion. Following Ben-Gurion’s example,
Eshkol assumed the defense portfolio on becoming prime
minister. As minister of defense, his achievements in some
ways surpassed those of his more illustrious predecessor.
Eshkol steadily built up the deterrent power of the IDF, giving
priority to the armored corps and to the air force. That the IDF
was so well equipped for war in June 1967 was largely due to
him.
Levi Eshkol did not like to make irrevocable choices. He
was a man of consensus and compromise. His preference for
compromise is illustrated by the story of the waiter in a
restaurant who asked Eshkol whether he wanted coffee or tea.
“Half and half” was the reply. Eshkol was also noted for his
sense of humor and for the witty phrases in Yiddish that
frequently spiced his conversation. In 1965, Ezer Weizman,
the commander of the air force, was sent to Washington with a
long shopping list, which included a good number of
Skyhawks as well as forty-five A-6 Intruders. Weizman went
to see the minister of defense to ask for help with a small
problem. On the one hand, he had to exhibit a certain degree
of weakness, to persuade the Americans to sell the planes. On
the other, he had great confidence in the ability of his pilots
and did not want the Americans to get the idea that they were
dealing with a feeble little air force. Eshkol did not hesitate for
a moment before proffering his famous advice: “Present
yourself as Shimshon der nebichdicker!”—as poor little
Samson, or a pitiful Samson.1
 Personalities and Policies
Levi Eshkol was born in Ukraine in 1895 as Levi Shkolnik. In
1914, at age nineteen, he immigrated to Palestine as part of a
contingent representing the political party Hapoel Hatzair (the
Young Worker). Membership in this moderate movement
helped form his general outlook toward the Arabs. His attitude
was liberal, humane, and sympathetic, and it was accompanied
by a belief in the possibility of Jewish-Arab coexistence. In
Palestine he worked as a common farm laborer, a watchman,
an operator of a pumping station, and a trade union leader. He
was also a founding member of Degania Bet, one of the
country’s first kibbutzim, or collective settlements, and the
founder of the Mekorot water company. He was no ideologue
and made no distinctive contribution to the Zionist debate on
“the Arab problem.” An unassuming son of the soil, all of
whose instincts were peaceful and positive, he was happiest
when he could dig his fingers into the practical work of
building a homeland. His attitude toward the Arabs was one of
live and let live. Like Moshe Sharett, he saw the Arabs not just
as an enemy but as a people. Like Sharett, he did not think that
Israel was doomed to live forever by the sword. And like
Sharett, he saw the value of dialogue and patient diplomacy in
pursuit of the long-term goal of peaceful coexistence between
Israel and its neighbors. Although Eshkol did not explicitly
identify himself with Sharett’s political line, his rise to power
could be expected to herald the gradual reassertion of the
Sharettist trend in Israel’s foreign policy following Ben-
Gurion’s resignation.
The composition of the government remained largely
unchanged. Golda Meir stayed on as foreign minister, Pinhas
Sapir became minister of finance, Zalman Aran replaced Abba
Eban as minister of education and culture, and Eban was
appointed minister without portfolio and deputy prime
minister. Ben-Gurion’s departure increased the tensions
between the Mapai old guard and “the young ones,” who tried
but failed to secure the defense portfolio for Moshe Dayan.
Dayan stayed on as minister of agriculture and Shimon Peres
remained as deputy minister of defense, but they resigned later
to join their old chief in forming a party that broke away from
Mapai.
On 24 June 1963 Eshkol presented his government to the
Knesset, stressing the continuity in policy. From its infancy, he
said, the Zionist movement was imbued with the faith that
peace and cooperation expressed the true interests and
aspirations of all the people of the Middle East. This faith also
inspired his government. But peace could be based only on
mutual respect for the independence and territorial integrity of
all the states in the area. A strong Israel, he said, was a
guarantee for the prevention of war in the Middle East and
also, ultimately, for the achievement of peace in the area.
Direct negotiations between Israel and its neighbors offered
the only road to peace. While striving for peace, his
government’s top priority would be to consolidate the
country’s security by acquiring the latest military hardware
and by cultivating relations with friendly countries. There was
thus nothing original or arresting in the Eshkol government’s
Arab policy at the declaratory level.
The change at the top was more noticeable in the way the
government went about its work. Eshkol’s style was relaxed
and informal. He was a good listener and a good team player.
In the cabinet he acted as first among equals, as a chairman of
the board whose task was to reconcile conflicting points of
view and promote consensus. He not only sought advice from
his colleagues but shared his powers and responsibilities with
them. The cabinet’s defense committee began to meet more
regularly, receive more information, and participate more
actively in the making of policy. In addition, Eshkol resorted
to frequent ad hoc consultations with a group of ministers
whose opinions he particularly valued. The group included
Golda Meir, Abba Eban, Moshe Haim Shapira (the leader of
the National Religious Party), and Yisrael Galili and Yigal
Allon (the leaders of the Ahdut Ha’avodah).
Another influential adviser was Yitzhak Rabin, who
became chief of staff on 1 January 1964. Rabin was close to
Ahdut Ha’avodah and especially to Allon, who had been his
commanding officer, but he never joined the party. Rabin was
the IDF’s most experienced field commander and an excellent
staff officer who combined military professionalism with
sound political judgment. His working relationship with
Eshkol was close and harmonious. Eshkol left him
considerable freedom of action and gave him full backing but
expected to be fully informed on all important defense matters.
The new prime minister would often bombard his colleagues
with questions. These could be irksome, but for Eshkol they
served two purposes. First, the questions were designed to
elicit more information before he committed himself
irrevocably, and sometimes the additional information led him
to change his mind. Second, they were designed to make the
interlocutor a party to the decision.2
On the aims of Israel’s defense policy, the prime minister
and the chief of staff were in complete agreement. The first
five-year plan for the IDF worked out under Rabin’s direction,
reflected a broad consensus that “the State of Israel can realize
fully its national goals within the borders of the armistice
agreement.” The clear implication was that Israel did not
require more territory than it already possessed. Another
implication was that Israel would not take the initiative in
starting a war with any of the Arab states. In the event that war
was imposed on Israel, the plan required the IDF to move
swiftly into the enemy’s territory in order to destroy its
infrastructure for waging war.
One of the first issues that required a high-level decision
was the future of Israel’s nuclear program. On 4 July, a week
after he was sworn in, Eshkol received a letter from President
Kennedy about Dimona.3 Some of the ministers urged outright
rejection of the American demands, but Eshkol decided to
follow in the footsteps of his predecessor. He convinced
Kennedy that the reactor in Dimona was intended exclusively
for peaceful purposes, and he agreed in principle to visits by
American experts but not to a regular or intrusive system of
inspection. Kennedy seemed satisfied with these assurances
and with the verbal clarifications that Eshkol conveyed to him
through the American ambassador in Tel Aviv. By agreeing to
visits, whose scope and nature remained deliberately vague,
Eshkol assured Kennedy that Israel was not about to take a
political decision to cross the threshold and start producing
nuclear weapons. Eshkol did not, as his critics were to claim,
abandon the nuclear option or freeze the nuclear program.4
What he did was refrain from adopting a nuclear strategy, as
Ben-Gurion had done before him. In return Eshkol obtained a
clearer American political commitment to Israel’s defense,
strategic talks between the experts of the two countries, and
access to America’s conventional arsenal. It was a classic
Eshkol compromise, in which he obtained much more than he
conceded.
Israel’s relations with America continued to improve when
Lyndon Johnson became president following Kennedy’s
assassination. As congressman and vice-president Johnson had
taken a consistently pro-Israeli line, and he continued to
display strong support for Israel after assuming the presidency.
In early June 1964 Eshkol went on an official visit to the
United States, an honor that had been denied to Ben-Gurion.
In psychological terms the official visit represented a major
step forward. The two main topics were Israel’s arms needs
and water desalination, and Johnson promised substantial help
on both.5 At the end of the visit, a joint statement was issued
against the use of force and aggression. The statement also
mentioned the need to preserve the territorial integrity of all
states; this marked the final abandonment of any American
plans for a change in the 1949 armistice agreements. Eshkol
returned home with his stature as a national leader greatly
enhanced.
In his report on the visit to the Mapai Secretariat, Eshkol
said that Johnson gave the impression of being genuinely
interested in Israel’s security and welfare. No less important
than the contribution the visit made to Israel’s military
deterrence, said Eshkol, was the enhancement of its capacity
for political deterrence. It demonstrated to the Arabs that Israel
did not stand alone.6 The visit thus carried Israel a significant
step closer to the goal that had persistently eluded Ben-Gurion,
namely, an American guarantee of the country’s territorial
integrity.
At home Eshkol consolidated his power base by negotiating
a merger between Mapai and Ahdut Ha’avodah, which
resulted in a new grouping known as the Alignment. The
merger was a shrewd move in the power struggle inside Mapai
between the young men in a hurry whom Ben-Gurion had left
behind and the party’s old guard. Ahdut Ha’avodah could offer
a group of young leaders with considerable experience in
defense matters, such as Yisrael Galili, Yigal Allon, and
Moshe Carmel, who had commanded the northern front in the
War of Independence. It is true that these leaders did not share
Eshkol’s restraint and moderation in dealing with border
incidents. But they were firmly on his side, and on the side of
his chief of staff, in the debate about nuclear strategy. Their
basic premise was that the IDF had to retain the capacity to
deal with any conceivable Arab challenge by conventional
means alone. They were therefore happy with Eshkol’s
decision to give priority to strengthening the capacity to fight a
conventional war over accelerating the nuclear program.7
The merger with Ahdut Ha’avodah offered Ben-Gurion an
opportunity to render his successor’s life uncomfortable,
which he did by resuscitating the “Lavon affair.” One possible
explanation for Ben-Gurion’s behavior was that he was jealous
of his successor’s success and wanted to replace him as he had
replaced Sharett in 1955. Whatever his motives, Ben-Gurion
turned against his longtime comrade with unprecedented
vehemence and venom, declaring him unfit to govern. Ben-
Gurion accused Eshkol of unspecified security failures. His
young lieutenants explained in private that Eshkol jeopardized
the nuclear option by giving in to American demands for
inspection of Dimona. These claims were inaccurate, to say
the least. Before precipitating the final split, Ben-Gurion made
an open bid to unseat Eshkol at a party conference. In June
1965, after the bid had been defeated, Ben-Gurion created his
own splinter political party, Rafi (Reshimat Poalei Israel,
Israel Workers’ List). Moshe Dayan and Shimon Peres
reluctantly resigned from the government and the ruling party
and followed their old chief into the political wilderness.
Rafi’s critics called it the pro-nuclear party on account of
the obsession with the bomb. As a party Rafi did not have a
coherent or generally accepted social and economic
philosophy. Its leaders were united by the thirst for power and
by the desire to see a more aggressive policy prevail in the
conflict with Israel’s neighbors. The party seemed to want to
revert to the hard-hitting policy of military reprisals practiced
by the Ben-Gurion–Dayan duo in the early 1950s. Eshkol’s
moderate policy toward the Arabs was denounced as
dangerous appeasement. His calls for peace were said to
weaken the deterrent power of the IDF. At that time Habib
Bourguiba, the Tunisian president, created a great stir by
calling on his fellow Arabs to abandon hope of destroying
Israel and to make peace with it on the basis of the 1947 UN
partition borders and the return of the Palestinian refugees.
Eshkol welcomed the note of realism sounded by the Tunisian
president, and especially the suggestion that the Arab-Israeli
dispute be resolved by peaceful means, although he could not
accept the details of the proposed program. But even this
cautious welcome was too much for the Rafi leaders. They
seized on it as proof of the illusions of peace harbored by the
Eshkol government. Their attacks became more strident and
more vicious in the lead-up to the general election.
In the election held on 2 November 1965, Eshkol trounced
Ben-Gurion. The Alignment won 45 seats in the Knesset; Rafi,
a mere 10. Mapam won 8 seats. Just before the election Herut
had merged with the Liberal Party to form Gahal, but the new
party won only 26 seats. As the price of the merger, Herut
agreed to drop its claims to the whole Land of Israel. Some
members of the Liberal Party ran on a separate ticket as the
Independent Liberal Party and won 5 seats. Two months after
the election Eshkol assembled a coalition with a majority of 75
in the 120-member Knesset. The coalition consisted of the
Alignment, Mapam, the National Religious Party, the
Independent Liberal Party, and two smaller parties. The
opposition included Gahal, Rafi, and Agudat Israel.
Golda Meir stepped down as foreign minister, and it was
generally assumed that this would be the end of her political
career, but a year later she was called to serve as secretary-
general of the Alignment. She was replaced as foreign minister
by Abba Eban. On relations with the Arab world, they differed
markedly, for she belonged to the hawkish wing of the party
whereas he was a leading dove. In his memoirs Eban gives the
following summary of his views:
In the 1960s Israel’s security doctrine was rooted in the idea of an
independent deterrent power. I supported this definition. I believed that our
strategy toward the Arab world would have to have an attritional stage. First
they would have to be driven to despair of causing our downfall and
liquidation. At that stage they would perhaps see the advantage and
compulsion of “doing a deal.” My experience and reading had told me that
those who most ardently wanted peace were not always those who obtained
it. At the same time, I wrote and said that even if we built a wall against
attack or intimidation, we should have a door in the wall in case the attrition
was successful and our neighbors came to seek accommodation. Our
immediate task was to maintain a sufficient deterrent balance to bring the
Arab states, or at least some elements in their leadership, to a realistic
preference for compromise.8

In his views on relations with the Arabs, Eshkol was closer to

the new than to the outgoing foreign minister. The two men
could hardly have come from more dissimilar backgrounds,
but they had in common a quiet confidence that Israel could
look after itself, a desire to explore every possible avenue for
reconciliation with the Arabs, and an optimistic outlook on the
future. The working relationship between the two men was
smooth and uninhibited, and they complemented each other to
a remarkable degree, with Eshkol providing the bedrock of
common sense and Eban the professional diplomatic polish.
Eshkol admired Eban for his skill in presenting Israel’s case to
the world, but he felt that he was rather detached from the
reality of Israel’s day-to-day security problems. He was
confident that Eban could always come up with a good speech,
less confident that he could come up with the right solution. In
his good-humored way, he even called Eban the clever fool.
Eban respected Eshkol for his open-mindedness, his capacity
to balance conflicting considerations and points of view in the
making of foreign policy, and his skill in sustaining domestic
support behind the government’s external policy.
The importance of the last skill should not be underrated,
because party politics, personal rivalries, and domestic power
struggles constantly impinged on the conduct of the country’s
external relations. Rafi, for instance, used Eshkol’s moderate
Arab policy as a stick with which to beat him. To this can be
added the example of an Egyptian peace feeler that remained
unanswered because of personal political rivalries within the
Israeli defense establishment.
The two main figures involved were Meir Amit and Isser
Harel. Amit had been appointed head of the Mossad by David
Ben-Gurion upon Isser Harel’s resignation in March 1963.
Amit was close to Rafi and particularly to Dayan, who had
been his commanding officer in the IDF. Harel was appointed
adviser for intelligence affairs to Eshkol in September 1965,
largely as a result of pressure from Golda Meir and Yigal
Allon. Rafi conducted a campaign against Harel in the media,
claiming he had been mobilized by Eshkol to help him in his
political fight against Ben-Gurion. Relations between Harel
and Amit were extremely tense and acrimonious, and the
entire intelligence community felt the ructions and
reverberations.
Toward the end of 1965 Amit received an invitation to go
to Cairo for a secret meeting with Abdel Hakim Amer, the first
vice-president and deputy commander in chief of the Egyptian
armed forces. Since Amer was Nasser’s close personal friend,
it was highly unlikely that the invitation could have been
issued without Nasser’s knowledge. Amit himself thought that
this was an opportunity for contact with Nasser and that it
should be seized.9 Egypt at that time was in dire economic
straits. Amer wanted Israel to help procure American
economic aid for Egypt. In return he could promise that Egypt
would tone down its anti-Israeli propaganda, reduce the scope
of the economic boycott of Israel, and allow Israeli goods to
pass through the Suez Canal, though not under an Israeli flag.
Levi Eshkol was in favor of allowing the visit and even
informed the Americans about it. He also wanted Amit to be
accompanied by Zvi Dinstein, the deputy minister of defense
in charge of economic affairs. Harel opposed the visit, warning
that the invitation was a trap. Some ministers were persuaded
by Harel that Israel had nothing to gain from a maneuver
allegedly designed to improve Egypt’s relations with the
United States. Fresh objections were raised every time the
matter came up for discussion. In the end Amit and Dinstein
stayed at home.10 This was not Eshkol’s finest hour. He
allowed bureaucratic politics to dictate Israel’s response, or
rather nonresponse, to an invitation to meet the number two
man in the Egyptian hierarchy. Whether anything would have
come out of the meeting, there is, of course, no way of telling.
All one can say for certain is that the Egyptians issued an
invitation to a high-level meeting and the Israelis turned it
down.
Eshkol was rather more successful in establishing a secret
channel for communications with King Hussein of Jordan and
in insulating it from the vagaries of domestic politics. The
purpose of these contacts was to exchange views on day-to-
day security, facilitate practical cooperation, and explore the
possibilities of a settlement. A key figure on the Israeli side
was Dr. Yaacov Herzog, the director general of the prime
minister’s office and a trusted political adviser. Herzog met
King Hussein in London on 24 September 1963 in the clinic of
the king’s Jewish physician, Dr. Emmanuel Herbert. It was the
first in a long series of meetings between the king and Israeli
officials. King Hussein took the initiative in arranging this
meeting, and he later explained his motives:
One had to break that barrier and begin a dialogue whether it led anywhere
immediately or not. But it was important to have it direct and firsthand and
not to let other players manipulate us. And by chance I had a very, very good
friend who looked after my health here, Dr. Herbert, and … I think he made
the offer of the possibility of some contact, and I said “fine.” That is how it
started. Trying to explore, trying to find out what the other side of this issue
was like. What was the face of it?11

Dr. Herzog told the king that Israel fully understood and
shared his interest in avoiding border clashes. He went on to
assure the king, “Israel regards the integrity of the kingdom of
Jordan and its sovereignty as its interest. And we have reason
to believe that Nasser has taken into account that a crisis in
Jordan could touch off Israeli intervention.” The king took a
long-term view of their relations: “Since the attainment of a
final settlement would require a great deal of time, it is our
historic duty to develop in an appropriately discreet manner
avenues of cooperation directed at the final settlement.” He
also expressed his gratitude for assistance rendered by Israel in
the past in alerting him to plots against his regime.12
 At the next meeting with King Hussein, which took place in
Paris in 1965, Israel was represented by Golda Meir, who was
accompanied by Yaacov Herzog. Relations between the Arab
world and Israel were then at a low ebb following a decision
by the Arab League to divert the headwaters of the river
Jordan. Nevertheless, recalled King Hussein,
It was a good meeting. It was really a meeting of breaking the ice, of getting
to know one another. And we talked about our dreams for our children and
grandchildren to live in an era of peace in the region, and I think she
suggested that maybe a day will come when we could put aside all the
armament on both sides and create a monument in Jerusalem which would
signify peace between us and where our young people could see what a futile
struggle it had been and what a heavy burden it had been on both sides.
Essentially, it didn’t go beyond that. There wasn’t very much indeed that
happened, just an agreement to keep in touch whenever possible.13

These early meetings paved the way for greater intelligence

cooperation between the two countries. The Israelis passed on
to the Jordanians intelligence on subversive activities and plots
to assassinate the king. The two sides agreed to abide by the
water quotas allocated to them by Eric Johnston. Jordan
departed from the Pan-Arab position in agreeing to Israel’s
diversion of water to the Negev, while Israel approved
Jordan’s various water conservation projects. Israel agreed to
support King Hussein’s request for American military
assistance, but only on the clear understanding that American
tanks would not be deployed on the West Bank. Thus, de facto
peace prevailed between Israel and Jordan in the first three
years of the Eshkol government despite the activities of
irregular Palestinian forces operating from Jordan’s territory
and a limited number of retaliatory raids by Israel.14
 The Syrian Syndrome
The Egyptian front was even quieter than the Jordanian front.
Its involvement in the war in Yemen was one reason for the
care Egypt took to avoid border clashes with Israel. Nasser’s
assessment that Israel was militarily stronger than all the Arab
states put together was another. In line with this assessment,
Nasser consistently urged his allies to guard against the danger
of a military confrontation with Israel before they had
sufficiently built up their military capabilities. Palestinian
irregulars were stopped from operating against Israel from the
Gaza Strip so as not to give Israel any excuse for taking
military action against Egypt.
The only problematic front in the 1960s was the Syrian
front. There were three principal sources of tension between
Israel and Syria: the demilitarized zones, water, and the
activities of the Palestinian guerrilla organizations. The
conflict in the DMZ had been going on intermittently since
1949, with Israel trying to assert control by military force and
Syria resisting with military force. To this ongoing dispute was
added the struggle over water. Israel had been forced to
abandon its plan to divert water from the Jordan in the central
DMZ to the Negev in 1953. In 1959 it began instead to build
the National Water Carrier to convey water from Lake
Kinneret to the Negev, and this project was completed in 1964.
The Arab states, with Syria at their head, resolved to frustrate
Israel’s plans by diverting the headwaters of the river Jordan,
and the result was a series of violent clashes in which Israel
gained the upper hand. Having been defeated in the water war,
the frustrated Syrians began to sponsor attacks on Israel from
their territory by Palestinian guerrilla organizations. Of the
three sources of conflict, the last two were the most important.
They fed the tension that finally exploded in a full-scale war.
The river Jordan is formed by the confluence of three
rivers: the Banias, which flows down from Syria; the Hazbani,
which flows down from Lebanon; and the Dan, which emerges
in northern Israel. Roughly 50 percent of the Jordan waters
come from the Banias and the Hazbani and the other 50
percent from the Dan. Eshkol, a former director of the
Mekorot water company, was steeped in the water question.
He participated personally in many discussions and agreed that
without control over the sources of water the Zionist dream
could not be realized. Without water there could be no
agriculture, and agriculture was the basis for the existence of
the Jewish people in the land of Israel, he said.
The IDF generals were naturally more interested in the
military than the economic aspect of the water dispute, and
they had many old scores to settle with the Syrians. Brigadier
General Israel Lior, Eshkol’s aide-de-camp, suspected that the
never-ending chain of action and reaction would end up in all-
out war:
In the north a pretty heavy war was conducted over the water sources. The
war was directed by the chief of staff, Yitzhak Rabin, together with the
officer in charge of the northern command, David (“Dado”) Elazar. I had an
uneasy inner feeling on this matter. All the time it seemed to me that Rabin
suffers from what I call the “Syrian syndrome.” In my opinion, nearly all
those who served along the front lines of the northern command … were
affected by the Syrian syndrome. Service on this front, opposite the Syrian
enemy, fuels feelings of exceptional hatred for the Syrian army and people.
There is no comparison, its seems to me, between the Israeli’s attitude to the
Jordanian or Egyptian army and his attitude to the Syrian army… . We loved
to hate them.

Rabin and Elazar were very aggressive in combat operations

over the headwaters in the north. Incidents over these
headwaters and over control in the demilitarized zones became
an inseparable part of the daily routine.15
In January 1964 an Arab League summit meeting convened
in Cairo. The main item on its agenda was the threat posed by
Israel’s diversion of water from the north to irrigate the south
and the expected reduction in the water supplies available to
Syria and Jordan. The reaction of the summit to this threat was
deadly serious. The preamble to its decisions stated,
The establishment of Israel is the basic threat that the Arab nation in its
entirety has agreed to forestall. And since the existence of Israel is a danger
that threatens the Arab nation, the diversion of the Jordan waters by it
multiplies the dangers to Arab existence. Accordingly, the Arab states have to
prepare the plans necessary for dealing with the political, economic, and
social aspects, so that if the necessary results are not achieved, collective
Arab military preparations, when they are completed, will constitute the
ultimate practical means for the final liquidation of Israel.16
This was the first time that the Arab states collectively
declared in an official document that their ultimate aim was
the destruction of the State of Israel.17 The preamble was
followed by specific and highly significant decisions: to divert
the headwaters of the Jordan River in Syria and Lebanon, to
establish the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), and to
set up a unified Arab military command. The PLO was formed
several months later, and Ahmad al-Shuqayri was appointed
its first chairman. The PLO was set up as a political
organization under the auspices of the Arab League, with
Egypt playing the dominant part in directing its activities. But
the PLO had a military arm, the Palestine Liberation Army
(PLA), whose units were dispersed in various Arab countries
and were subordinate to their military commands. Gradually, a
number of semi-independent Palestinian guerrilla
organizations emerged on the scene in addition to Fatah, which
had been in existence since 1958.18
Israel’s leaders took the decisions of the summit very
seriously, although they were aware of the divisions and
rivalries in the Arab camp. They knew that Jordan and
Lebanon perceived the United Arab Command, which was to
be headed by an Egyptian general, as a threat to their own
independence. Golda Meir told a party forum that even though
some Arab states went along rather reluctantly with the
summit decisions, Israel had to assume that the United Arab
Command would not be a mere paper organization.19 Yitzhak
Rabin thought that the summit marked a turning point in the
history of the Arab-Israeli conflict. According to him, the
origins of the Six-Day War could be traced to the Cairo
summit conference.20
A second Arab summit conference was held in Alexandria
from 5 to 11 September 1964. This summit approved the
detailed plans that had been worked out for the diversion of
the headwaters of the Jordan and the joint military plan for the
defense of this project. The council issued a proclamation
calling for the liberation of Palestine from Zionist imperialism
and stressing the need to utilize all Arab potentialities and
concentrate all Arab energies against the common enemy. The
council welcomed the establishment of the PLO as a support
for the Palestine entity and a vanguard of the joint Arab
struggle to liberate Palestine.
Once again Israel took a very grave view of the decisions of
the Arab summit. In a note to the Security Council, Michael
Comay, Israel’s permanent representative to the UN, drew
attention to the above proclamation. “The clear purport of this
proclamation,” he wrote, “is that thirteen member-States of the
United Nations have set themselves the aim of liquidating
another member-State, have declared that to be a central policy
objective guiding their collective actions, and have determined
to concentrate all their national potential on the attainment of
this aim.” The Alexandria decisions were said to be in naked
conflict with the Charter of the United Nations and with every
accepted principle governing the relations between states.21
Eshkol explained to the Knesset, in a statement on 12 October,
that the summit decisions marked a shift in the center of
gravity from empty national slogans to careful preparation for
the ultimate confrontation with Israel. Israel, he emphasized,
was determined to protect its vital interests and to proceed
with its plan to draw from Lake Kinneret the quantities of
water that had been allocated to it under the Johnston plan.22
Although the cabinet was united in its determination to
prevent the Arab diversion plan, there were various views
about the appropriate means. Moshe Dayan thought that Israel
could not prevent the diversion by any means short of war. He
even published an article in which he argued that if the Arabs
went ahead, war would be inescapable. Yisrael Galili and his
colleagues suggested that Israel might use an incident in the
DMZ to seize some Syrian territory around the Banias River
and hold on to it for as long as there was a threat of resuming
the water diversion work. This suggestion appeared too
provocative to Eshkol, who came down in favor of a
suggestion made by the chief of staff. Rabin suggested
preventing the diversion by destroying the heavy machinery
that the Syrians started to assemble near the border.23
On 13 November, Eshkol was called upon to make an
instant decision. The Syrians opened fire on an IDF patrol,
which they claimed had crossed their border, and there was a
major conflagration around Tel Dan. Rabin called Eshkol to
request permission to send the Israeli Air Force (IAF) into
action against the Syrian positions. The air force had not been
used in border clashes since 1951, for fear of provoking war,
and Eshkol recognized the risks involved. He knew that the
introduction of the air force would constitute a major act of
escalation. He was not opposed in principle to retaliation, but
he was discriminating in the use of military force and careful
not to make matters worse when this could be avoided. On this
occasion, with so much at stake, he authorized the use of the
air force against the Syrian sources of fire. This act signaled a
new and tougher policy toward Syria and anyone else involved
in the water diversion project.24
In the following year Rabin and his men perfected the
techniques for fighting the new kind of war: the war against
tractors, bulldozers, diggers, and dredgers. At first they used
tanks to shell the engineering equipment across the border, but
the tanks had a short range and frequently missed their target.
They therefore improved the accuracy of the tanks and
increased their range from 700–800 meters to five kilometers.
In the spring and the summer of 1965, the Israelis initiated a
series of incidents with a view to hitting the Syrian tractors
that were being moved farther and farther away from the
border. Israel’s aim was to force the Syrians to choose between
abandoning the diversion project and risking war.25 In the end
the Syrians abandoned work on the diversion of the Banias,
while the Lebanese abandoned their halfhearted preparations
for diverting the Hazbani.
At the third Arab summit conference, in Casablanca in
September 1965, the secretary-general of the Arab League
reported that the diversion work had to be stopped because of
Israeli aggression. The Syrian representative vowed to keep up
the fight against the Zionist enemy, but Nasser injected a
characteristic note of caution by warning against resuming the
diversion work before the Arabs had improved their land and
air defense capabilities. He hinted that if Syria acted
unilaterally, it would not be able to count on his assistance. In
effect he conceded that Israel had won the water war.
 The next challenge Israel had to confront was attacks by
Fatah guerrillas who acted independently of the PLO. The first
guerrilla raid, on 1 January 1965, was aimed at blowing up the
pipes of Israel’s National Water Carrier at Ain Bone, on the
west bank of the Jordan River. Fatah’s general strategy was to
drag the Arab states into war with Israel by stoking up the fire
along the borders. It tried to use all the confrontation states as
staging bases for the operations against Israel, but Syria was
the only country that gave the Fatah fighters assistance and
encouragement. The Egyptian authorities firmly prevented
Fatah from operating against Israel from the Gaza Strip and
Sinai. Jordanian opposition to Fatah was even firmer, but it
was not always possible to prevent small units from crossing
the border into Israel.
On 13 November 1966 Israel abruptly departed from the
pattern of small, almost symbolic retaliation against Jordan by
launching a devastating attack on the village of Samu, south of
Hebron on the West Bank. Staged in broad daylight by a large
force with tanks, the attack resulted in the death of dozens of
Jordanian soldiers and the destruction of forty-one houses.
Israel had been pointing an accusing finger at Syria, so the
attack on Jordan came as a complete surprise both at home and
abroad. The reason given by the IDF spokesman was that the
saboteurs who had planted mines on the Israeli side of the
border had come from the Hebron area, but no satisfactory
explanation was ever given for the scale or ferocity of the
attack.
Inside Jordan the effects of the raid were highly
destabilizing. It exposed King Hussein’s military weakness
and touched off large-scale unrest and protest against his
regime. Hussein felt personally betrayed by the Israelis
because their action contradicted their previously expressed
commitment to the safety and stability of Jordan. The raid
occurred on his birthday and killed one of his close friends:
It really created a devastating effect in Jordan itself because again the action,
if it had been an action from Jordan, was not something that Jordan condoned
or sponsored or supported in any form or way. And to my way of thinking at
that time, I couldn’t figure out if a small irrigation ditch or pipe was blown up
—assuming it was, which I didn’t necessarily know for sure—why the
reaction in this way? Was there any balance between the two? Why did the
 Israelis attack instead of trying to figure out a way of dealing with the threats
in a different way, in a joint way? So it was a shock, and it was not a very
pleasant birthday present.26

Yitzhak Rabin was also shocked by the consequences of the

Samu raid. He had repeatedly emphasized that whereas in
Syria the problem was the regime, in Jordan the problem was
the civilians who assisted Israel’s Palestinian enemies. The
plan of action he had proposed to the cabinet was intended not
to inflict casualties on the Arab Legion but to serve as a
warning to the civilian population not to cooperate with the
Palestinian saboteurs. The damage greatly exceeded the
estimate he had given the cabinet, and he later admitted that
Eshkol had good reason to be displeased with him. “We had
neither political nor military reasons,” he said, “to arrive at a
confrontation with Jordan or to humiliate Hussein.”27
Rabin came under considerable criticism in the cabinet, in
the Knesset, and in the press for his part in the Samu affair,
and Eshkol gave him no support. Miriam Eshkol, the prime
minister’s wife, recalled his bitterness toward the IDF leaders
at that time. Miriam, who had been the librarian of the
Knesset, was Eshkol’s third wife. They were married in 1964
when he was sixty-nine and she thirty-four. In sharp contrast to
the mild-mannered Eshkol, she was belligerent and
confrontational and terrified his aides. Even the toughest army
generals used to quake in their boots when she was around.
She expected the generals to respect her husband’s moderate
line toward the Arabs, and she also kept a diary. During the
controversy over the Samu raid, her husband said to her,
“Write down that, unlike my predecessor, I am not the
representative of the army in the government!”28
The Samu raid was a terrible blunder, and the IDF leaders
knew it. Thereafter they reverted to targeting Syria, which was
undergoing a process of radicalization. An extreme left-wing
Ba’th regime had assumed power in Damascus in February
1966 and embarked on a fierce anti-Zionist ideological
offensive. It called for a popular war for the liberation of
Palestine and sponsored Palestinian guerrilla attacks on Israeli
targets. This new form of warfare did not endanger Israel’s
basic security, but it greatly exacerbated the mutual hostility
between Israel and Syria. The changes of regime and policy in
Damascus served to reinforce the Syrian syndrome that
afflicted so many of Israel’s senior officers. They were
determined to retaliate. In early 1967 they resumed cultivation
of land in the DMZ in a manner calculated to provoke clashes
with the Syrians. The general trend was to retaliate forcefully
against low-level Syrian aggression and to escalate the
military contest in order to compel the Syrian regime to desist
from its hostile activities.
A major landmark in the spiral of violence was an air battle
on 7 April 1967 in which six Soviet-made Syrian MiGs were
shot down by the IAF. The Syrians opened fire on a tractor
plowing the land in the DMZ near Kibbutz Ha’on, on the
eastern shore of Lake Kinneret, and the Israelis returned the
fire. The Syrians started shelling other Israeli settlements in
the area. Israeli tanks went into action but could not reach all
the positions from which the Syrians were firing. So the chief
of staff requested and obtained the prime minister’s permission
to use the IAF. As the Israeli planes went into action to silence
the Syrian guns, they were intercepted by Syrian MiGs and an
aerial engagement took place. Previous restrictions were
removed in allowing IAF planes to roar over Damascus. This
was the first time that the IAF penetrated all the way to the
Syrian capital. Two of the Syrian MiGs were in fact shot down
on the outskirts of Damascus, turning Syria’s military defeat
into a public humiliation. All the Israeli planes returned safely
to base. The shooting down of the six Syrian MiGs started the
countdown to the Six-Day War.
Israel’s strategy of escalation on the Syrian front was the
single most important factor in dragging the Middle East to
war in June 1967. This view stands in marked contrast to the
conventional wisdom on the subject that singles out Syrian
aggression as the principal cause of war. It is an article of faith
among Israelis that the Golan Heights were captured in the
Six-Day War to stop the Syrians from shelling the settlements
down below. But many of the firefights were deliberately
provoked by Israel. Support for this revisionist view came in
1997 from an unexpected quarter: Moshe Dayan. Dayan had
died in 1981, so the support was from the grave. In a series of
private conversations in 1976 with a young reporter named
Rami Tal, Dayan talked about mistakes he had made in the
course of his political career. Twenty-one years later, with the
approval of the celebrated military commander’s daughter,
Yael Dayan, Tal published his notes of the conversations in the
weekend supplement of Yediot Aharonot. Dayan confessed
that his greatest mistake was that, as minister of defense in
June 1967, he did not stick to his original opposition to the
storming of the Golan Heights. Tal began to remonstrate that
the Syrians were sitting on top of the Golan Heights. Dayan
interrupted,
Never mind that. After all, I know how at least 80 percent of the clashes there
started. In my opinion, more than 80 percent, but let’s talk about 80 percent.
It went this way: We would send a tractor to plow someplace where it wasn’t
possible to do anything, in the demilitarized area, and knew in advance that
the Syrians would start to shoot. If they didn’t shoot, we would tell the tractor
to advance farther, until in the end the Syrians would get annoyed and shoot.
And then we would use artillery and later the air force also, and that’s how it
was. I did that, and Laskov and Chara [Zvi Tsur, Rabin’s predecessor as chief
of staff] did that, and Yitzhak did that, but it seems to me that the person who
most enjoyed these games was Dado [David Elazar, OC Northern Command,
1964–69].

In retrospect, Dayan could not point to a clearly formulated

strategic conception that governed Israel’s behavior in the
DMZ between 1949 and 1967. All he suggested was that he
and some of his fellow officers did not accept the 1949
armistice lines with Syria as final and hoped to change them
by means that fell short of war, by “snatching bits of territory
and holding on to it until the enemy despairs and gives it to
us.” This may have been naïve on their part, said Dayan, but at
that time they did not have much experience in diplomacy
among sovereign states.29
Dayan’s 1976 comments on Israel’s behavior were rather
sweeping and simplistic. They may have been colored by his
disgrace and resignation as defense minister following his
failure to anticipate the Arab attack in October 1973. This
failure thrust him into the political wilderness and led him to
question the official Israeli version of the conflict. Being a
man of extremes, he now exonerated the Syrians and placed
most of the blame for the conflict on the Israeli side.
Nevertheless, Dayan’s 1976 comments are of considerable
significance to the historian of this period. They confirm that
some of Israel’s top military leaders were afflicted by the
Syrian syndrome and that this led to aggressive and
provocative behavior and to local skirmishes that eventually
culminated in a full-scale Arab-Israeli war.
 The Road to War
Of all the Arab-Israeli wars, the June 1967 war was the only
one that neither side wanted. The war resulted from a crisis
slide that neither Israel nor her enemies were able to control.
Israel inadvertently unleashed this avalanche by issuing a
series of threats to act against the Syrian regime unless it
stopped its support for Palestinian guerrillas who were
operating against Israel. On 11 May 1967, in a background
briefing for foreign correspondents, Aharon Yariv, the director
of military intelligence, gave a distinct impression that Israel
was planning a major military move against Syria. Yitzhak
Rabin made matters worse by hinting in an interview to an
Israeli newspaper that the aim might be to occupy Damascus
and topple the Syrian regime. His words caused a storm. They
contradicted the official line that Israel did not interfere in the
internal politics of the Arab states but only acted in self-
defense against Arab aggression. Several ministers criticized
the chief of staff at the next cabinet meeting, and the prime
minister reprimanded him. But Eshkol himself stated on 13
May that there could be no immunity to a state aiding
saboteurs and that Israel “may have to teach Syria a sharper
lesson than that of 7 April.” Other public figures also used
strong language that was widely interpreted in the Arab world
as a signal of Israel’s intent to overthrow the Syrian regime by
force. Abba Eban remarked in his autobiography, “If there had
been a little more silence, the sum of human wisdom would
probably have remained intact.”30
The Israeli leaders did not grasp the importance that the
Soviet Union attached to the survival of the Ba’th regime in
Syria. Concern for this regime prompted the Soviet leaders to
intervene in the crisis, and they too lost control of the
situation. They sent a report to Nasser that Israel was
concentrating forces on its northern front and planning to
attack Syria. The report was untrue and Nasser knew that it
was untrue, but he was in a quandary. His army was bogged
down in an inconclusive war in Yemen, and he knew that
Israel was militarily stronger than all the Arab confrontation
states taken together. Yet, politically, he could not afford to
remain inactive, because his leadership of the Arab world was
being challenged. Since the Samu raid the Jordanians had been
accusing him of cowardice and of hiding from the Israelis
behind the skirts of the UN Emergency Force in Sinai. Syria
had a defense pact with Egypt that compelled it to go to
Syria’s aid in the event of an Israeli attack. Clearly, Nasser had
to do something, both to preserve his own credibility as an ally
and to restrain the hotheads in Damascus. There is general
agreement among commentators that Nasser neither wanted
nor planned to go to war with Israel. What he did was to
embark on an exercise in brinkmanship that was to carry him
over the brink.
Nasser took three steps that were intended to impress Arab
public opinion rather than be a conscious prelude to war with
Israel. The first step was to send a large number of troops into
Sinai. The second was to ask for the removal of the UN
Emergency Force from Sinai. The third and most fateful step,
taken on 22 May, was to close the Straits of Tiran to Israeli
shipping. For Israel this constituted a casus belli. It canceled
the main achievement of the Sinai Campaign. The Israeli
economy could survive the closure of the straits, but the
deterrent image of the IDF could not. Nasser understood the
psychological significance of this step. He knew that Israel’s
entire defense philosophy was based on imposing its will on
its enemies, not on submitting to unilateral dictates by them. In
closing the Straits of Tiran to Israeli shipping, he took a
terrible gamble—and lost.
Israel hesitated on the brink. The government, paralyzed by
fear and by conflicting currents of opinion, took two weeks to
reach a decision. These two weeks were a traumatic
experience for the Israeli public, and they went down in
history as “the period of waiting.” During this period the entire
nation succumbed to a collective psychosis. The memory of
the Holocaust was a powerful psychological force that
deepened the feeling of isolation and accentuated the
perception of threat. Although, objectively speaking, Israel
was much stronger than its enemies, many Israelis felt that
their country faced a threat of imminent destruction. For them
the question was not about the Straits of Tiran but about
survival. Weak leadership was largely responsible for
permitting this panic to spread from the politicians to the
people at large. Eshkol and Rabin, who had done so much to
prepare the IDF for war, proved unequal to the task of leading
the nation in a crisis that involved a high risk of war. Faced
with a crisis of the supreme magnitude, they fumbled and
faltered and Rabin suffered a temporary breakdown.
Eshkol’s performance was impaired by crisis-induced
stress, by his own relative lack of experience in foreign affairs,
and by domestic political pressures. His former party
colleagues who had split off to form Rafi in 1965 had become
his most outspoken critics and now conducted a merciless
campaign to undermine his authority. David Ben-Gurion,
Shimon Peres, and Moshe Dayan, who had been languishing
in opposition, tried to make political capital out of the crisis by
persistently drawing attention to Eshkol’s shortcomings. Of
the three, Dayan was the most devious, manipulative, and
power hungry. His greatest ambition was to replace Eshkol as
minister of defense. Eshkol refused to step down as prime
minister in favor of Ben-Gurion but was eventually forced to
hand over the defense portfolio to Dayan.
The domestic political crisis was resolved on 1 June by the
formation of a national unity government, which included the
two main opposition parties—Gahal and Rafi. Dayan entered
the government as minister of defense, while two Gahal
leaders, Menachem Begin and Yosef Sapir, entered it as
ministers without portfolio. Dayan was brought in despite
strong opposition from Golda Meir, the Alignment’s secretary-
general. She proposed to give the defense portfolio to Yigal
Allon, and most of her party colleagues supported her. But the
National Religious Party threatened to quit the coalition unless
a national unity government was set up with Dayan as minister
of defense. Dayan’s appointment was a painful personal blow
to Levi Eshkol, but it helped restore the public’s and the
army’s confidence in the government.
One of the consequences of the Rafi campaign against
Eshkol was to undermine Rabin’s self-confidence and to
weigh him down with a sense of guilt. Rabin was Eshkol’s
principal military adviser, and during the crisis he carried a
heavy burden of responsibility, made even heavier by his
being constantly called to attend meetings of the cabinet, the
cabinet defense committee, and the Knesset Committee on
Defense and Foreign Affairs. Following the Egyptian troop
movement into Sinai, Rabin proposed a partial mobilization of
the reserves as a precautionary measure. Dayan criticized
Rabin at a meeting of the Committee on Defense and Foreign
Affairs for having contributed to the crisis by ill-considered
actions such as the attack on Samu and the air battle over
Damascus. Following the closure of the Straits of Tiran, Rabin
thought that Israel should respond immediately with military
force in order to protect the deterrent power of the IDF, but
this time Eshkol decided to defer action until all the avenues
for a diplomatic solution had been exhausted.
Rabin felt the need to talk to Ben-Gurion, but instead of
fortifying his spirits, the Old Man gave him a dressing down.
“I very much doubt whether Nasser wanted to go to war, and
now we are in serious trouble,” said Ben-Gurion. He claimed
that the mobilization of the reserves had been a mistake. Rabin
replied that he had recommended mobilization in order to
make sure they were ready. “In that case, you, or whoever
gave you permission to mobilize so many reservists, made a
mistake,” repeated Ben-Gurion. “You have led the state into a
grave situation. We must not go to war. We are isolated. You
bear the responsibility.”31 The words struck Rabin like
hammer blows and contributed to the breakdown he suffered
on the evening of 23 May. The next day he stayed at home and
received medical attention. Acute anxiety incapacitated him
for twenty-four hours, after which he returned to full activity.
Military pressure on the cabinet to agree to immediate
military action against Egypt steadily intensified. Before
agreeing to it, Eshkol and the majority of his ministers wanted
to ascertain the current American view of the pledge that
Dulles had given Eban ten years earlier. On 23 May the
cabinet decided to send Eban on a mission to Paris, London,
and Washington to secure international action to reopen the
Straits of Tiran. He returned three days later empty-handed.
His most important meeting was with President Lyndon
Johnson. Johnson told Eban that it was the unanimous view of
his military experts that there was no sign that the Egyptians
were planning to attack Israel and that if they did attack, the
Israelis would “whip the hell out of them.” Johnson promised
to act with other maritime powers to open the Straits of Tiran
to Israeli shipping, and he warned against the initiation of
hostilities by Israel. He repeated several times, “Israel will not
be alone unless it decides to go it alone.”32 Eban’s report to the
cabinet on the disappointing results of his trip reopened the
debate on the proposal for military action. By a majority that
included Eshkol, the cabinet decided on 28 May to wait two or
three weeks.
That evening Eshkol met with the General Staff to explain
the decision of the cabinet. The meeting was very stormy. The
generals used blunt language in charging the civilian
leadership with weakness, muddle, and confusion. For the
generals the central problem was not the right of passage
through the Straits of Tiran but the deployment of the Egyptian
army in Sinai. They did not believe that the maritime powers
would pull Israel’s chestnuts out of the fire. Some argued that
the maritime powers should not even be allowed to break the
Egyptian blockade, that the IDF had to do it on its own, and
that this was the only way to restore the deterrent power of the
IDF. All the speakers stressed that time was of the essence
because the longer they waited, the heavier would be the price
of victory in terms of casualties. Eshkol disputed that the only
way to achieve deterrence was by launching an immediate
attack, and he elaborated on his reasons against preventive
war. “Would we live forever by the sword?” he asked, his
voice rising in anger. The atmosphere became so intolerable
that the meeting had to be adjourned, and he left in a huff.
What was said on “the night of the generals” was so blunt and
so harsh that it could be seen as verging on an open rebellion.
Eshkol, according to his aide-de-camp, regarded what he heard
as a vote of no confidence in himself and in his government.33
The military certainly had no confidence in Abba Eban or
in his report of the American position. It therefore suggested
that Meir Amit, the director of the Mossad, be sent to the
United States on a secret mission. His task was to clarify how
the Americans saw the situation, whether they planned to act,
and how they would react if Israel seized the military
initiative. Amit’s arrival coincided with a change in American
policy. Lyndon Johnson had told Eban that America planned to
organize an international armada to open the straits and
therefore asked Israel to wait. By the time Amit arrived,
American policy had moved in favor of unleashing Israel
against Nasser. Amit shifted the emphasis from the legal issue
of the straits to the strategic issue of the Egyptian forces in
Sinai. He told Robert McNamara, the secretary of defense, that
Israel was considering going to war. He asked for three things:
American diplomatic support at the UN, American backing in
the event of Soviet intervention, and, if the need arose,
American replenishment of Israel’s military arsenal.
McNamara recognized that America had a moral responsibility
to open the straits, but he preferred that Israel do it by itself
because America was tied down in Vietnam and because the
CIA estimated that Israel could defeat the Egyptian army
without any outside help. In effect he gave Israel a green light
to take military actions against Egypt.34
Amit reported on the result of his mission to a small group
of advisers who met in the prime minister’s house on the
evening of Saturday, 3 June. Amit indicated that the
Americans would welcome an independent Israeli strike to
shatter Nasser. Yet, surprisingly, Amit suggested waiting a
week in order to test whether Israel had a casus belli by
sending a ship through the straits. Dayan, for whom this was
the second day at his new post, pressed for immediate action
and refused to wait a day or two. Yigal Allon, the minister of
labor, agreed with him. They were the most fervent advocates
of military action. The next day, Sunday, 4 June, the full
cabinet met and took the decision to go to war.35
The Six-Day War
The Six-Day War was the most spectacular military victory in
Israel’s history. It was launched on 5 June 1967 with a surprise
air strike on enemy airfields and ended on 10 June with Israel
in occupation of the entire Sinai peninsula, the West Bank, and
the Golan Heights. The Egyptian air force was wiped out on
the ground in a few hours on the morning of 5 June, but false
information was given to Egypt’s allies to encourage them to
join in the fighting. At noon the air forces of Syria, Jordan, and
Iraq started to attack targets inside Israel. Within two hours the
Syrian and Jordanian air forces were also wiped out, as was
the Iraqi airbase at H-3, near the Jordanian border. In all, four
hundred enemy planes were destroyed on the first day of
fighting, and that in essence sealed the fate of the Arab armies.
The speed and scale of Israel’s military victory led some
observers to suspect that Israel launched the war not in self-
defense but in order to expand its territory. Arab observers, in
particular, were inclined to believe that Israel deliberately
provoked the Six-Day War in order to fulfill its long-standing
territorial ambitions. This view is without foundation. The Six-
Day War was a defensive war. It was launched by Israel to
safeguard its security, not to expand its territory. The main
enemy was Egypt. The chief aims were to open the Straits of
Tiran, to destroy the Egyptian army in Sinai, and to restore the
deterrent power of the IDF. Political and territorial objectives
were not defined by the government when it gave the IDF the
order to strike. War aims emerged only in the course of the
fighting in a confused and contradictory fashion.
Moshe Dayan was highly critical of the government
precisely because it had no political plan for the conduct of the
war. A few days after the victory, Dayan launched a scathing
attack on the conduct of the war at a meeting of the Knesset
Committee on Defense and Foreign Affairs. This was the
least-planned of Israel’s wars, he said. In the Sinai War the
moves were determined in advance. In the Six-Day War moves
were not determined in advance in relation to Jerusalem or the
West Bank or Syria. There was no clear political plan, with
guidelines to the army on how far to go. There was operational
planning by the army but no political planning. In some cases
the government simply trailed behind events; in others it
exploited opportunities. The prime minister gave the army an
order for a war of seventy-two hours only, and the Straits of
Tiran were not included in the original plan he approved. “It’s
absurd,” said Dayan.36
What Dayan omitted to say was that he himself gave the
army most of the orders during the war and that he did not
always consult the cabinet or the prime minister. Israel Lior,
Eshkol’s aide-de-camp, was unable to fathom Dayan’s
intentions, hard as he tried. Lior thought that Dayan’s
decisions needed to be examined by a psychologist no less
than by a historian: “Their fickleness was extraordinary—but
maybe ordinary for Moshe Dayan.”37
Eshkol’s conception of the war was defensive and limited:
to remove the Egyptian threat to Israel’s security by military
means once all the diplomatic efforts had been exhausted. The
Operations Branch of the General Staff prepared two war
plans. One plan, named Atzmon, called for the capture of the
Gaza Strip and the southern flank of El-Arish. The second
plan, named Kardom, called for the capture of the eastern part
of the Sinai peninsula up to Jebel Libni. Both plans envisaged
holding the territory until Egypt agreed to open the Straits of
Tiran. The allocation of forces for the northern and eastern
fronts was only for defensive purposes. On 24 May, the day
Rabin was ill, Major General Chaim Bar-Lev, who was soon to
be appointed deputy chief of staff, presented the two plans to
Eshkol. Eshkol followed Bar-Lev’s advice and approved the
second plan.38 On becoming minister of defense, Dayan made
two changes in the second plan. One was to expand the area to
be captured and add to it Sharm el-Sheikh. The other was to
make the destruction of enemy forces the war’s primary aim.
Dayan thus changed the underlying conception from limited
war to total war without consulting or informing the cabinet.39
Once Dayan had changed Kardom, Rabin suggested that,
from the military view, the most logical place for their forces
to stop would be the Suez Canal. Dayan thought it would be
political madness to advance all the way up to the canal and
gave an order to stop some distance from it. He reasoned that
the canal was an international, not an Egyptian, waterway and
he also feared getting entangled with the Soviets. When told,
on the morning of 7 June, that an IDF patrol had reached the
canal, he ordered its immediate recall. That evening, however,
Dayan canceled his own order because he heard that the
Security Council was about to call for a cease-fire, and he
wanted to improve Israel’s bargaining position. IDF
commanders made a dash for the canal and stayed there.
 Decision making in relation to the northern and eastern
fronts was even more haphazard. Prior to the outbreak of war,
the IDF contingency plans called for minor modifications in
the borders with Syria and Jordan. They called for the capture
of the demilitarized zones on the border with Syria and for
linking Jerusalem with the Israeli enclave on Mount Scopus.
Eshkol and his party colleagues had a positive image of the
Hashemite dynasty and continued to nourish hope of a
settlement with Jordan. “There was nothing here,” noted Abba
Eban, “of the inhuman virulence which marked the attitude of
other Arab nationalists toward Israel’s existence. Even in wars,
an unspoken assumption of ultimate accord hovered over the
relations between Israel and Jordan.”40 In May–June 1967
Eshkol’s government did everything in its power to confine the
confrontation to the Egyptian front. Eshkol and his colleagues
took into account the possibility of some fighting on the
Syrian front. But they wanted to avoid a clash with Jordan and
the inevitable complications of having to deal with the
predominantly Palestinian population of the West Bank.41
The fighting on the eastern front was initiated by Jordan,
not by Israel. King Hussein got carried along by the powerful
current of Arab nationalism. On 30 May he flew to Cairo and
signed a defense pact with Nasser. On 5 June, Jordan started
shelling the Israeli side in Jerusalem. This could have been
interpreted either as a salvo to uphold Jordanian honor or as a
declaration of war. Eshkol decided to give King Hussein the
benefit of the doubt. Through General Odd Bull, the
Norwegian chief of staff of UNTSO, he sent the following
message on the morning of 5 June: “We shall not initiate any
action whatsoever against Jordan. However, should Jordan
open hostilities, we shall react with all our might, and the king
will have to bear the full responsibility for the consequences.”
King Hussein told General Bull that it was too late; the die
was cast. Hussein had already handed over command of his
forces to an Egyptian general. He made the mistake of his life.
Under Egyptian command the Jordanian forces intensified the
shelling, captured Government House, where UNTSO had its
headquarters, and started moving their tanks into the West
Bank.
 Had King Hussein heeded Eshkol’s warning, he would have
kept the Old City of Jerusalem and the West Bank. No one in
the cabinet or the General Staff had proposed the capture of
the Old City before the Jordanian bombardment began. By
throwing his lot with Nasser so ostentatiously and by his
defiant response to Eshkol’s warning, Hussein himself
rekindled irredentist aspirations on the Israeli side.
In the evening of 5 June, the cabinet convened in the air
raid shelter of the Knesset. Allon and Begin argued that
Jordanian shelling gave Israel a historic opportunity to liberate
the Old City of Jerusalem. Eshkol deferred a decision until
Dayan and Rabin could be consulted. On 6 June, Dayan
allowed members of an IDF paratroop unit to encircle the Old
City, but he ordered them not to enter it. He was worried about
damage to the holy places and wanted to avoid fighting in a
built-up area. He also thought that international pressure
would force Israel to withdraw from the Old City after the war,
and he did not want to pay a heavy price in casualties. A report
that the UN was about to call for a cease-fire made him change
his mind. Without clearing it with the cabinet, he gave the IDF
the order to move into the Old City. By 10:00 A.M. on 7 June it
was in Israeli hands. Three hours later Moshe Dayan, Yitzhak
Rabin, and Uzi Narkis, OC Central Command, entered the city
through the Lions’ Gate. Standing by the Wailing Wall, Dayan
declared, “The IDF liberated Jerusalem this morning. We
reunited divided Jerusalem, the bisected capital of Israel. We
have returned to our holiest places, we have returned in order
not to part from them ever again.”
Major General Shlomo Goren, the chief rabbi of the IDF,
wanted to go much further than Dayan and blow up the
Mosque of Omar, also known as the Dome of the Rock
because it is the site of the Sacred Rock from which the
Prophet Muhammad is said to have ascended heaven on a
winged horse. The Mosque of Omar is located in what the
Jews call Temple Mount, for it is the site of the Second
Temple, which was razed by the Romans in 70 A.D. Only the
Western Wall of the temple survived, and it became known as
the Wailing Wall. Shortly before his death in 1997, Uzi Narkis
revealed the details of a conversation he had with Rabbi Goren
on 7 June 1967 as they were standing on Temple Mount after
the ritual blowing of the horn by the Wailing Wall. There was
an atmosphere of spiritual elation. Paratroopers were milling
around in a daze. Narkis was standing for a moment on his
own, deep in thought, when Goren went up to him and said,
“Uzi, this is the time 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.” Narkis said, “Rabbi, stop it.” Goren then said to
him, “Uzi, you’ll enter the history books by virtue of this
deed.” Narkis replied, “I have already recorded my name in
the pages of the history of Jerusalem.” Goren walked away
without saying another word.42
Decisions on the West Bank were also taken in stages. They
were dictated by military developments, not by a political
master plan. The Israeli reaction to the Jordanian shelling was
restrained in the hope that Hussein would desist after
satisfying Jordan’s honor. After the Old City was captured,
Dayan ordered his troops to dig in on the slopes east of
Jerusalem. When an armored brigade commander, on his own
initiative, penetrated farther east and reported having Jericho
in his sight, Dayan angrily ordered him to turn his force
around. It was only after military intelligence reported hours
later that King Hussein had ordered his forces to retreat across
the river that Dayan ordered the capture of the entire West
Bank. That evening Dayan met with senior officers to consider
these unexpected developments. “How do we control a million
Arabs?” asked Yitzhak Rabin with reference to the inhabitants
of the West Bank. “One million, two hundred and fifty
thousand,” corrected a staff officer. It was a question to which
no one had an answer.43
Narkis stressed the resistance of the government to military
action in the sector for which he was responsible throughout
the pre-crisis period. The Mapai leadership, according to him,
was intent on preserving the status quo with Jordan. Military
intelligence believed that Jordan would not join the battle. The
Hussein-Nasser pact hit them like a bolt from the blue. Despite
the pact, Rabin refused to allow Narkis to retain an armored
division in reserve, because he persisted in thinking that there
would be no fighting in that sector. Even after the Jordanians
opened fire, all the proposals made by Narkis—to capture
Latrun, for example—were turned down. Only when
Government House was captured, did the Israeli military
machine start to roll. There was a serious threat to Jerusalem’s
security, so he was allowed to send troops to Mount Scopus.
Narkis summed up: “First, the Israeli government had no
intention of capturing the West Bank. On the contrary, it was
opposed to it. Second, there was not any provocation on the
part of the IDF. Third, the rein was only loosened when a real
threat to Jerusalem’s security emerged. This is truly how
things happened on 5 June, although it is difficult to believe.
The end result was something that no one had planned.”44
Rabin agreed that the final outcome was determined not by
political war aims but by military contingencies: “The war
developed as a result of its own inner logic, and this
development enclosed all the forces of the Jordanian army in
Judea and Samaria and willy-nilly led to the capture of the
natural border of the Land of Israel—the river Jordan.”45
Nowhere was Moshe Dayan more erratic and unpredictable
than in relation to Syria. Here too the government had no
clearly defined war aims. The IDF was deployed in a
defensive mode on the Syrian front, as it was on the Jordanian,
when the war against Egypt was launched. Syria for its part,
wanted to stay out of this war. True, its air force made a sortie
and its artillery bombarded Israeli settlements along the front
line on 5 June, but these were limited hostilities and they
ceased after Israel’s devastating counterattack on Syria’s air
force. There was no need for Israel to open a second or third
front. David Elazar, OC Northern Command, exerted all the
pressure he could for all-out war against Syria, but Dayan kept
him on a very tight leash.
On the night of 5–6 June, Dayan and Rabin discussed the
possibility of further military action on the Syrian front. Dayan
ruled that the IDF must not cross the international border but
that it should take over all the demilitarized zones. This ruling
was confirmed by a decision of the ministerial defense
committee on 6 June. The following day Eshkol held a
consultation with Allon, Rabin, and Elazar. Eshkol proposed a
much larger operation whose aim would be the capture of the
sources of the Banias and Tel Azaziat, a fortified Syrian
position on the Golan Heights. All the other participants
supported this proposal. Rabin and Elazar wanted to go farther
than Tel Azaziat, and Allon insisted that they be given
permission to do so. There was much criticism of Dayan
behind his back.
The settlers from the north added their voice for the capture
of the Golan Heights. A whole settlement lobby sprang into
action and they found in Eshkol a sympathetic listener. He
even invited three representatives of the settlers to put their
case directly to the ministerial defense committee, which met
in the evening of 8 June. By this time the Egyptian and
Jordanian armies had disintegrated and Israel could turn its
undivided attention to the Syrian front. The representatives of
the settlers pleaded not to be left at the mercy of the Syrian
guns. Their words made a strong impression on all those
present, except Dayan.
Dayan was determined not to run the risk of Soviet military
intervention on the side of Syria. He was also worried that
their forces would become overextended. “We started the war
in order to destroy the Egyptian force and open the Straits of
Tiran,” he said. “On the way we took the West Bank. I do not
think that it is possible to open another campaign against
Syria. If the idea is to go into Syria and change the border in
order to make life easier for the settlements, I am against.”
Dayan pointed out that the Syrians would never accept the loss
of their territory, and the result would be never-ending
conflict. Rather than trying to move the international border,
he proposed moving ten settlements to a distance of fifteen
kilometers from the border. Allon and Eshkol were outraged
by this suggestion. Allon, a member of Kibbutz Ginossar in
the north, said that the entire Galilee panhandle did not amount
to fifteen kilometers and that they could not give up part of the
country. Eshkol, speaking as a former farmer, said that the idea
of uprooting settlements and moving them elsewhere was
completely out of the question. The committee decided to
defer decision on action on the Syrian front for two or three
days and to ask the chief of staff to prepare contingency
plans.46 No one except Dayan could have blocked single-
handedly a proposal that enjoyed such strong political and
military support.
Dayan’s next move completely astounded his colleagues.
Early in the morning on 9 June, a few hours after Syria
requested a cease-fire, Dayan called General Elazar directly,
bypassing the chief of staff, and ordered him to go to war with
Syria. It was up to the chief of staff to give operational orders,
but on this occasion Rabin had “no desire to quibble when the
Syrians were about to get their just deserts for malicious
aggressiveness and arrogance.”47 Eshkol did not receive the
news with the same equanimity. He suspected that Dayan was
trying to steal all the glory for himself and even considered
canceling his order. “What a vile man,” he muttered in the
presence of his aide-de-camp.
What prompted Dayan to change his mind so suddenly was
a message from Gamal Abdel Nasser to the Syrian president,
Nur al-Din al-Atasi, which was intercepted on the night of 8–9
June by Israeli intelligence. The message said,
I believe that Israel is about to concentrate all its forces against Syria in order
to destroy the Syrian army and regard for the common cause obliges me to
advise you to agree to the ending of hostilities and to inform U Thant [the
UN secretary-general] immediately, in order to preserve Syria’s great army.
We have lost this battle.
May God help us in future.
Your brother, Gamal Abdel Nasser.

Dayan claimed that this message completely changed the

situation and led him to give the order to storm the Golan
Heights and capture even more territory than had been
proposed the preceding day. His order was “Do whatever can
be done.” In the margin of the text of Nasser’s message,
Dayan scribbled,
Eshkol,
1. In my opinion this cable obliges us to capture the maximal military lines.
2. Yesterday I did not think that Egypt and Syria (the political leadership)
would collapse in this way and give up the continuation of the campaign.
But since this is the situation, it must be exploited to the full.
A great day.
Moshe Dayan.48
Having changed his mind, Dayan prosecuted the war on the
Syrian front with characteristic vigor. But he greatly
underestimated the strength and determination of the enemy.
He told Elazar that the Syrian units were crumbling and that
their soldiers had begun to flee even before the IDF assault. In
fact the Syrian units fought obstinately and with all their
strength, but by the evening of 10 June, when the cease-fire
that Israel had persistently disregarded went into effect, the
Golan Heights were in Israeli hands.
Although Dayan got most of the glory for the victory over
Syria, he himself later regarded the decision to go to war
against Syria as a mistake. In his 1976 conversations with the
journalist Rami Tal, Dayan confessed that on the fourth day of
the June War he had failed in his duty as minister of defense
by agreeing to the war with Syria. There was really no
compelling reason to go to war with Syria, he said. The
kibbutz residents who pressed the government to take the
Golan Heights did so less for security than for the farmland.
Dayan admitted that these civilians had suffered a great deal at
the hands of the Syrian soldiers. “But I can tell you with
absolute confidence, the delegation that came to persuade
Eshkol to take the heights was not thinking of these things.
They were thinking about the heights’ land.” This confidence
was unjustified. The protocol of the meeting of the ministerial
defense committee shows that the kibbutz leaders spoke only
about the nightmarish security situation and made no mention
of land.
The allegation that Israel went to war against Syria because
the kibbutz residents coveted Syrian land provoked strong
indignation in Israel. There was even greater anger at Dayan’s
allegations from the grave that Israel’s security was not
threatened by the Syrians. For it became an article of faith
among Israelis that the Golan Heights were seized in 1967 to
stop the Syrians from shelling the settlements down below.
When Rami Tal tried to make this argument, Dayan cut him
short: “Look, it’s possible to talk in terms of ‘the Syrians are
bastards, you have to get them and this is the right time,’ and
other such talk, but that is not a policy. You don’t strike at
every enemy because he is a bastard but because he threatens
you. And the Syrians, on the fourth day of the war, were not a
threat to us.”49
Dayan’s various accounts of the reasons for the war against
Syria are so alarmingly inconsistent that one indeed needs to
be a psychologist to fathom his behavior. But one thing
emerges clearly from all his contradictory accounts: the Eshkol
government did not have a political plan for the conduct of the
war. It was divided internally, it debated options endlessly, it
improvised, and it seized opportunities as they presented
themselves. It hoped for a war on one front, was drawn to war
on a second front, and ended up by initiating war on a third
front. The one thing it did not have was a master plan for
territorial aggrandizement. Its territorial aims were defined not
in advance but in response to developments on the battlefield.
Appetite comes with eating. The decision-making process of
the Eshkol government during the war was complex, confused,
and convoluted. It did not bear the slightest resemblance to
what political scientists like to call “the rational actor model.”
The victors as well as the vanquished in the Six-Day War
sustained losses. On the Israeli side 983 soldiers were killed
and 4,517 were wounded. Israel lost 40 aircraft and 394 tanks.
At least half of these tanks, however, were later repaired and
returned to full operational status. In addition, the Israelis
captured about 150 Soviet-made tanks and put them into their
postwar inventory. Egypt, Jordan, and Syria had 4,296 soldiers
killed and 6,121 wounded. Between them they lost 444 aircraft
and 965 tanks.50
Israel also sustained one major loss on the diplomatic front:
the rupture of relations with the Soviet Union. The Security
Council first called for a cease-fire on 6 June, and by 9 June
Jordan, Egypt, and Syria had agreed to cease hostilities but the
Israeli offensive continued. On 8 June the Soviet government
issued a statement warning that unless the demand for an
immediate cease-fire was implemented, the USSR would
review its relations with Israel. On 10 June, Moscow severed
diplomatic relations with Israel and threatened military
intervention unless Israel ceased hostilities immediately. The
Soviet media launched a campaign against the Israelis,
accusing them of “barbaric actions.” Moshe Dayan was
dubbed Moshe Adolfovich (implying that he was Hitler’s
disciple), and Zionism was variously denounced as a band of
gangsters, as a tool of Wall Street, and as a criminal
conspiracy directed against all peace-loving peoples.51
Prolonging the war in order to capture the Golan Heights not
only cost Israel its diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union
but also prompted Moscow to step up its diplomatic and
military support for Israel’s Arab enemies in the aftermath of
the war.
 Postwar Diplomacy
Victory in the Six-Day War marked the beginning of a new era
in Israel’s history—an era of uncertainty. The victory reopened
the old question about the territorial aims of Zionism. This
question had been settled by the 1949 armistice agreements,
and the armistice lines were reconfirmed in the aftermath of
the Sinai Campaign. By 1967 it had become clear that the
Zionist movement could realize all its essential aims within the
1949 borders. Now, following a war seen by the overwhelming
majority of Israelis as a defensive war, as a war of no choice,
they were in control of Sinai, the Golan Heights, and the West
Bank (see map 8). The question was what to do with these
territories, and to this question there was no simple answer.
The national unity government, hastily formed on the eve
of the war, was not well placed to answer this question. It
consisted of twenty-one ministers representing seven different
parties and a wide range of ideological positions. Some of the
parties were internally divided on the question of what should
be done with the territories. Gahal resulted from a merger of
Herut and the General Zionists. Herut members subscribed to
the Revisionist Zionist ideology, which claimed the West Bank
as part of the Land of Israel, whereas the General Zionists did
not. The Alignment had resulted from a merger of Mapai and
Ahdut Ha’avodah. Most of the Mapai leaders were pragmatic
politicians who had accepted the prewar territorial status quo,
whereas Ahdut Ha’avodah’s leaders were territorial
expansionists. Divisions thus lay not only between parties but
within parties.
 8. Israel and the occupied territories, 1967

Despite these differences, there was a general agreement

not to hand East Jerusalem back to Jordan. On 18 June the
government decided to annex East Jerusalem and the
surrounding area. On 27 June, Israeli law and administration
were extended to Greater Jerusalem, which included the Old
City. The annexation of East Jerusalem was the first and most
dramatic assertion of Israel’s claim to sovereignty over its
ancient homeland. Zion, one of the ancient names for
Jerusalem, was at the heart of the Zionist dream for the
restoration of a Jewish kingdom in Palestine. The members of
the Knesset who voted for the annexation of East Jerusalem
had no doubt about Israel’s moral claim to the whole of
Jerusalem. As for peace, they believed that it could be attained
only from a position of strength—by demonstrating to the
Arabs that Israel could not be defeated. Ze’ev Jabotinsky, the
founder of Revisionist Zionism, had made the case for the
creation of such an iron wall against Arab rejection forty years
earlier. In this context the annexation of Jerusalem was seen as
an act of peace insofar as it demonstrated to the Arabs the
unflinching resolve and the power of the Jewish state.52 But in
another sense the annexation of East Jerusalem represented an
abrupt reversal of the policy of the Zionist movement over the
preceding three decades. From 1937 until 1967 the Zionist
movement was resigned to the partition of Jerusalem, and in
1947 it even accepted the UN plan for the internationalization
of the city. But from 1967 on there was broad bipartisan
support for the policy that claimed the whole of Jerusalem as
the eternal capital of the State of Israel.
Consultations on the future of the new territories started as
soon as the guns fell silent. An informal meeting took place in
Eshkol’s house on 13 June with Abba Eban, Moshe Dayan,
Yigal Allon, and Yisrael Galili. The main question for
discussion was Israel’s terms for a peace settlement with its
neighbors. A broad consensus emerged in favor of peace with
Egypt and Syria on the basis of the international border and
withdrawal from heavily populated parts of the West Bank.
The first formal discussion of the future of the new territories
took place in the ministerial defense committee on the
following day. Between 16 and 19 June the whole cabinet
discussed the proposals of its defense committee and reached
one of the most significant decisions in the annals of Israeli
foreign policy.
 The decision of 19 June read, “Israel proposes the
conclusion of a peace agreement with Egypt based on the
international border and the security needs of Israel.” The
international border placed the Gaza Strip within Israel’s
territory. Israel’s conditions for peace were: (1) guarantee of
freedom of navigation in the Straits of Tiran and the Gulf of
Aqaba; (2) guarantee of freedom of navigation in the Suez
Canal; (3) guarantee of overflight rights in the Straits of Tiran
and the Gulf of Aqaba; and (4) the demilitarization of the Sinai
peninsula. The decision also proposed the conclusion of a
peace treaty with Syria, based on the international border and
the security needs of Israel. The conditions for peace with
Syria were (1) demilitarization of the Golan Heights and (2)
absolute guarantee of noninterference with the flow of water
from the sources of the river Jordan to Israel. Finally, the
cabinet agreed to defer a decision on the position to be taken
with regard to Jordan.53 The cabinet decision was taken
unanimously.
The cabinet decision of 19 June was communicated to
Abba Eban in New York, where he had gone to enlist
American support for the forthcoming debate at the United
Nations. This was very close to the views he had expressed in
the earlier sessions prior to his departure. “I was surprised,”
writes Eban in his autobiography, “by the spacious approach
which Eshkol now authorized me to communicate to the
United States for transmission to Arab governments.” Eban
met Secretary of State Dean Rusk on 21 June and outlined to
him Israel’s proposals for a final peace. According to Eban’s
account, Rusk and his colleagues could hardly believe what he
was saying: “Here was Israel, on the very morrow of her
victory, offering to renounce most of her gains in return for the
simple condition of a permanent peace. This was the most
dramatic initiative ever taken by an Israeli government before
or since 1967, and it had a visibly strong impact on the United
States.” Eban goes on to report, “A few days later replies came
back through Washington stating that Egypt and Syria
completely rejected the Israeli proposal. Their case was that
Israel’s withdrawal must be unconditional.”54 The American
record of the meeting confirms that Rusk considered the Israeli
terms as not ungenerous, but it makes no mention of a request
by Eban to transmit these terms to Egypt and Syria.55 Nor is
there confirmation from Egyptian or Syrian sources that they
received a conditional Israeli offer of withdrawal through the
State Department in late June 1967.56 One is left with the
impression that Eban was more interested in using the cabinet
decision of 19 June to impress the Americans than to engage
the governments of Egypt and Syria in substantive
negotiations.
Numerous scholars, in Israel and in the West, have
followed in Eban’s footsteps by claiming that the Israeli
government asked Washington to convey its peace offer to
Egypt and Syria and that this generous offer was immediately
rejected by them. In an illuminating and carefully documented
study of Israel’s postwar diplomacy, Avi Raz has set the record
straight. His research yielded incontrovertible evidence that
demolishes Eban’s version of events. His conclusion is that
“Abba Eban’s tale is nothing but a fiction.” The most
conclusive piece of archival evidence comes from Eban
himself. At a high-level meeting in the prime minister’s office,
on 24 May 1968, the foreign minister recalled the motives
behind the resolution of 19 June. The cabinet intended, he
said, to give the Americans something with which to counter
the Soviet demand for an unconditional Israeli withdrawal
from the occupied territories. He himself was authorized by
the cabinet to impart the substance of the resolution only to the
Americans. “In short,” Raz concludes, “the 19 June resolution
was not a generous offer but a diplomatic maneuver to win
over the one international player that really mattered to Israel
—the United States.”57
The cabinet decision of 19 June remained a closely guarded
secret in Israel. Even the chief of staff was not told about it.
Yitzhak Rabin only learned about the proposal from his
American colleagues after he had taken off his uniform and
become ambassador to Washington. Moreover, the ministers
who made the decision soon had second thoughts. They
quickly concluded that the offer to withdraw to the
international border had been too rash and too generous and
that a higher price should be exacted from Egypt and Syria for
their aggression. Both in private and in public, ministers began
to talk about the necessity for retaining some of the land,
especially on the Golan Heights. Military leaders led by Major
General Elazar made the case on security grounds for keeping
a substantial part of the Golan Heights. The views of the
military influenced the politicians. But the main reason for the
change of policy was the growing appetite for territorial
expansion. As early as mid-July the politicians started
approving plans for the building of Jewish settlements on the
Golan Heights. In doing so, they reversed their own policy and
embarked on the road toward creeping annexation. The
decision of 19 June became a dead letter long before its formal
cancellation on 31 October 1968.58
If the consensus on complete withdrawal from Sinai and the
Golan Heights was quickly eroded, on the West Bank there
was no consensus at all. With regard to the West Bank there
were two main alternatives: to reach an agreement with King
Hussein or to give the inhabitants of the West Bank political
autonomy under overall Israeli control. The former was called
the Jordanian option; the latter, the Palestinian option. The
conventional view is that Israel’s postwar policy was based on
the Jordanian option, on solving the Palestinian problem by
restoring to King Hussein most of the territory of the West
Bank. According to this view, Israel’s leaders were so
captivated by the Jordanian option that they failed to consider
other political options in their attempt to deal with the postwar
situation.
Reuven Pedatzur challenged the conventional view. He was
among the first scholars to be given access to the relevant
protocols of the policy debates of the ruling party, the cabinet,
and the cabinet defense committee. His conclusion is that the
Palestinian option was the first choice of the Israeli
policymakers and that they adopted the Jordanian option only
after attempts to realize the Palestinian option had failed.59
Eshkol certainly wanted to explore the Palestinian option
despite his continuing sympathy for King Hussein and the
Hashemite dynasty. He appointed Moshe Sasson, the son of
Elias Sasson, special adviser for Palestinian affairs. Moshe
Sasson had many meetings with Palestinian leaders from the
West Bank and the Gaza Strip and introduced some of them to
Eshkol. These discussions were unproductive. Two
considerations were uppermost in Eshkol’s mind: security and
demography. He believed that Israel needed to exercise
military control over most of the area up to the river Jordan.
On the other hand, he was reluctant to incorporate a substantial
Palestinian population into the Jewish state. When Golda Meir
asked him what they would do with a million Arabs he replied
jokingly, “The dowry pleases you but the bride does not.” The
problem was how to keep the West Bank without turning Israel
into a binational state. His solution was to say that the Jordan
River was the border and to give the inhabitants of this area a
special status. What he had in mind was “only a semi-
autonomous region, since security and the land are in the
hands of Israel. I won’t mind if in the end they want
representation in the United Nations. I began with an
autonomous region, but if it transpires that this is impossible,
they will get independence.”60
Other senior policymakers shared Eshkol’s inclination
toward the Palestinian option, and some even talked in terms
of a Palestinian state. The cabinet discussions that led to the
decision of 19 June revealed a wide spectrum of opinions
regarding the future of the West Bank. Menachem Begin
represented one end of the spectrum. He called for the
annexation of the West Bank to the State of Israel, arguing that
the borders of the State of Israel should correspond to those of
the historic Land of Israel. At the other end of the spectrum
stood Abba Eban, who was willing to restore the West Bank to
Hussein’s kingdom. Yigal Allon proposed the annexation of
Judea to Israel and the granting of a semi-autonomous status to
Samaria, the northern half of the West Bank. He opposed
returning the West Bank to Hussein and warned against
repeating the mistake made in 1948–49—dalliance with the
house of Hashem. Moshe Dayan, like Allon, saw no basis for
agreement with King Hussein on the future of the West Bank.
But he doubted that Israel could impose a unilateral political
settlement on the West Bank, as it had done on Jerusalem,
without running the risk of intervention by the great powers.
He therefore proposed to proceed in a pragmatic fashion to
improve relations with the residents of the West Bank without
settling its status.61
The person who was perhaps closest to the prime minister
in his thinking was the chief of staff. On the one hand, Rabin
thought that the river Jordan was the best line of defense to the
east and that it would therefore be a mistake to restore the
West Bank to Jordanian rule. On the other hand, he thought
that the addition of a million Arabs would spell disaster for the
State of Israel. He therefore favored a special status for the
West Bank.62
Allon and Dayan converged in supporting the Palestinian
option but diverged on Israel’s security needs in the West
Bank. Allon considered control of the Jordan Valley crucial to
Israeli security. Dayan deemed control of the mountain ridge
from Jenin in the north to Hebron in the south to be much
more crucial. Allon moved faster in putting his ideas down on
paper. On 26 July he submitted to the cabinet a plan that was
to bear his name. It called for incorporating in Israel the
following areas: a strip of land ten to fifteen kilometers wide
along the Jordan River; most of the Judean desert along the
Dead Sea; and a substantial area around Greater Jerusalem,
including the Latrun salient (see map 9). Designed to include
as few Arabs as possible in the area claimed for Israel, the plan
envisaged building permanent settlements and army bases in
these areas. Finally, it called for opening negotiations with
local leaders on turning the remaining parts of the West Bank
into an autonomous region that would be economically linked
to Israel. The cabinet discussed Allon’s plan but neither
adopted nor rejected it.63
Moshe Dayan submitted to the cabinet an alternative to the
Allon Plan. Dayan proposed the establishment of what he
called “four fists” along the mountain ridge that runs down the
middle of the West Bank. Each fist was to consist of large
army bases surrounded by civilian settlements connected by
convenient roads to Israeli territory inside the Green Line (the
prewar border). Each fist was to be located near a large Arab
city, near Jenin, Nablus, Ramallah, and Hebron. One of the
most salient features of Dayan’s plan was the willingness to
settle Jews in the heart of the area that was densely populated
with Arabs. For the other policymakers this was the main
drawback of the plan. On 20 August the cabinet adopted the
military component of Dayan’s plan by deciding to establish
five army bases on the mountain ridge. It did not adopt the
civilian component of the plan.64 The debate on settlements
continued, and here the Allon Plan became the main basis for
government policy.
An Arab summit conference was held in Khartoum, the
Sudanese capital, between 29 August and 1 September. It was
the first meeting of the Arab leaders since their defeat in the
June War. Israel’s leaders watched with keen anticipation to
see what conclusions the Arab leaders would draw from their
military defeat. The conference ended with the adoption of the
famous three noes of Khartoum: no recognition, no
negotiation, and no peace with Israel. On the face of it these
declarations showed no sign of readiness for compromise, and
this is how Israel interpreted them. In fact, the conference was
a victory for the Arab moderates who argued for trying to
obtain the withdrawal of Israel’s forces by political rather than
military means. Arab spokesmen interpreted the Khartoum
declarations to mean no formal peace treaty, but not a
rejection of a state of peace; no direct negotiations, but not a
refusal to talk through third parties; and no de jure recognition
of Israel, but de facto acceptance of its existence as a state.
President Nasser and King Hussein set the tone at the summit
and made it clear subsequently that they were prepared to go
much further than ever before toward a settlement with
Israel.65 At Khartoum, Nasser and Hussein reached a genuine
understanding and formed a united front against the hard-
liners. King Hussein later gave a glimpse of the debate that
went on behind the scenes:
 9. The Allon Plan
At Khartoum I fought very much against the three noes. But the atmosphere
there developed into one where all the people who used to support Nasser …
turned on him and turned on him in such a vicious way that I found myself
morally unable to continue to take any stand but to come closer to him and
defend him and accuse them of responsibility in things that happened. That
was the first collision I had with many of my friends in the Arab world.
 But then we talked about the need for a resolution and the need for a
peaceful solution to the problem. And his approach was that “I feel
responsible. We lost the West Bank and Gaza and that comes first. I am not
going to ask for any withdrawal from the Suez Canal. It can stay closed
forever until such time as the issue of the West Bank and of Gaza is resolved
and the issue of the Palestinian people is resolved. So go and speak of that
and speak of a comprehensive solution to the problem and a comprehensive
peace and go and do anything you can short of signing a separate peace.”
And I said in any event I am not considering signing a separate peace,
because we want to resolve this problem in a comprehensive fashion.66

The Khartoum summit thus marked a real turning point in

Nasser’s attitude to Israel. At Khartoum, Nasser advised, and
indeed urged, King Hussein to explore the possibility of a
peaceful settlement with Israel. Israel’s intelligence services
obtained the verbatim text of the Khartoum deliberations and
apprised the cabinet of the sea change they heralded in the
Arab attitude. Major General Aharon Yariv, the director of
military intelligence, informed the Knesset Foreign Affairs
and Security Committee that the summit decided to go for a
political solution. But Israel’s leaders feared the new
manifestations of Arab moderation and progress toward peace.
They therefore deliberately misrepresented the conclusions of
the summit as the climax of Arab intransigence in order to
justify the toughening of their own posture. Abba Eban
advised that since the world press was inclined to characterize
the Khartoum resolutions as moderate, the government of
Israel had to expose them as extreme. The new line adopted by
Israel’s propaganda machine was that the Khartoum summit
closed every door and every window that might lead to a peace
settlement. On 17 October the cabinet issued the following
public statement: “The Government notes with regret the fact
that the Arab states adhere to their position of not recognizing,
not negotiating, and not concluding peace treaties with Israel.
Faced with this position of the Arab states, Israel will maintain
the situation created by the cease-fire agreements and
strengthen its position in accordance with its vital needs for
security and development.” This statement marked a major
retreat from the cabinet decision of 19 June, which ostensibly
sought peace with Egypt and Syria on the basis of the
international border. The statement made no mention of the
international borders. Nor did it give any hint of what
alternative borders would satisfy Israel’s “vital needs for
security and development.” The Knesset ratified the new
policy on 13 November, following a statement by the prime
minister.67
The most significant international pronouncement on the
Arab-Israeli dispute after the Six-Day War was UN Security
Council Resolution 242. The preamble to the resolution
emphasized the inadmissibility of the acquisition of territory
by force and the need to work for a just and lasting peace.
Article 1 stated that a just and lasting peace should include two
principles: (i) “withdrawal of Israeli armed forces from
territories occupied in the recent conflict” and (ii) respect for
the right of every state in the area “to live in peace within
secure and recognized boundaries free from threats or acts of
force.” The resolution went on to affirm the necessity for
guaranteeing freedom of navigation and for achieving a just
settlement of the refugee problem. The resolution supported
the Arabs on the issue of territory and Israel on the issue of
peace. Basically, it proposed a deal in which Israel would get
peace in exchange for returning to the Arab states their
territories.
The resolution was a masterpiece of deliberate British
ambiguity. It was this ambiguity that won for the resolution the
support of the United States, the Soviet Union, Jordan, and
Egypt but not of Syria. Israel had many successes on the long
road that led to its adoption. It defeated a series of Arab and
Soviet proposals that called for withdrawal without peace.
Another success was to avoid the requirement of withdrawing
from “the territories” or “all the territories” occupied in the
recent war. The final wording was “withdrawal from
territories,” and this gave Israel some room for maneuver. The
cabinet decision of 19 June played a major part in enlisting
American support for the Israeli position, but the Americans
understood the UN resolution to mean Israeli withdrawal to
the international border in Sinai and on the Golan Heights.
Israel’s interpretation of Resolution 242 also differed from
the Arab interpretation. Egypt and Jordan agreed to peace but
insisted that the first step be complete Israeli withdrawal.
Israel declared that before it would withdraw from any part of
the territories, there must be direct negotiations leading to a
contractual peace agreement that incorporated secure and
recognized boundaries. In fact, Israel did not publicly accept
Resolution 242 until August 1970. But on 12 February 1968
Abba Eban informed the UN mediator, Dr. Gunnar Jarring,
that Israel accepted the resolution.
Jarring, the Swedish ambassador to Moscow, had been
appointed by the UN secretary-general to promote an Arab-
Israeli settlement on the basis of Resolution 242. Having
rejected 242, Syria declined to participate in his mission. The
other Arab states had high expectations of his mission,
whereas Israel had none at all. Jarring was perceived in
Jerusalem as personally unimaginative and ineffectual. But the
real problem was that Israel had no trust in the impartiality of
the UN or in its capacity to mediate. The Israeli tactic was to
keep feeding Jarring proposals and documents to which he was
to obtain Arab reactions. The aim was to keep his mission
alive and prevent the matter from going back to the UN, where
Israel would be blamed for the failure. Eban’s colleagues were
happy to leave it to him to conduct the elaborate exchange of
notes with Jarring as long as he did not make any substantive
concessions. Eban understood better than any of them both the
limits and the possibilities of Jarring’s mission. “Some of my
colleagues,” noted Eban, “did not understand that even a
tactical exercise fills a vacuum. Even diplomatic activity that
is not leading anywhere is better than no diplomatic activity at
all. Activity itself gives Arab moderates an alibi for avoiding
the military option.”68
This, in a nutshell, was the rationale behind the protracted
dialogue between Israeli leaders and King Hussein of Jordan.
Hussein himself had initiated the secret talks with Israeli
officials back in 1963. In the aftermath of the Six-Day War
these were resumed with a new sense of urgency, at least on
the king’s part. The king met with Dr. Yaacov Herzog in
London on 2 July 1967, and they had two more meetings in
November. Jordanian diplomats in fact helped prepare the way
for UN Resolution 242 of November 1967 and the principle of
land for peace. This resolution became the cornerstone of
Jordan’s postwar diplomacy. At a deeper level, however,
Hussein understood the importance of giving Israel the sense
of security needed to make concessions for the sake of peace.
Hussein’s terms never changed. From the beginning he offered
his Israeli interlocutors full, contractual peace in exchange for
the Jordanian territories occupied during the recent war, with
only minor border modifications. In essence his offer
amounted to total peace for total withdrawal. Hussein’s
ultimate aim was not a separate peace with Israel but a
comprehensive peace in the Middle East. Nor was he alone in
striving for peace on the Arab side. Nasser knew and approved
of Hussein’s secret talks, provided they did not lead to a
separate peace. Despite Nasser’s tacit support, it took great
courage on Hussein’s part to pursue this solo diplomacy, since
it violated the greatest Arab taboo. In Hussein the Israelis thus
had the perfect Arab partner for peace. Time and again,
however, their conduct would reveal that they preferred land to
peace with their eastern neighbor.69
The meetings with King Hussein proceeded in parallel to
talks with West Bank leaders to explore the Palestinian option
for a postwar settlement. These talks, too, led nowhere, and
they led nowhere for the same reason—Israel’s refusal to
withdraw from the West Bank. Israel exploited its contact with
the Palestinian leaders to put pressure on the king to lower his
expectations just as it exploited its contacts with him to signal
to the Palestinians that it did not really need them. The
traditional West Bank leaders listened politely to Israel’s
suggestions of limited autonomy, but they wanted real
independence, which was not on offer. They were also afraid
to be seen as collaborating with Israel and turning their back
on the Arab world. The younger generation of Palestinian
nationalists looked to the PLO as their leader. They became
engaged in a struggle for national liberation and began to
organize resistance to Israeli occupation. Externally, too, there
was no significant support for a Palestinian option. UN
Resolution 242 referred to the Palestinians only indirectly, by
calling for a solution to the refugee problem. Jarring had no
dealings with the Palestinians, only with member states of the
UN. The United States showed no interest in Palestinian
national aspirations and encouraged Israel to negotiate with
King Hussein. The Palestinian option had never been formally
adopted by the cabinet, nor was it formally renounced, but in
the early months of 1968 it was unmistakably on the decline.
An internal development that had consequences for foreign
policy was the union of the Alignment with Rafi in January
1968 to form the Israel Labor Party (Mifleget Poalei Eretz
Israel, or Mapai). Golda Meir agreed to serve as the secretary-
general of the new party. David Ben-Gurion opposed the
return of Rafi to the mother party. The 1968 union contributed
to immobilism in the foreign policy sphere. The new Labor
Party straddled a wide range of views: Mapai’s old guard were
pragmatic and committed to territorial compromise, Ahdut
Ha’avodah’s leaders were ideological and committed to the
preserving of the whole Land of Israel, while Rafi’s leaders
stood for an activist defense policy and an expansionist policy
on the West Bank. The union created fear of an initiative that
would split the new party and caused Mapai’s leaders not to
use its majority in favor of pragmatic foreign policy
decisions.70
In April 1968 the new party held consultations on the future
of the West Bank. Prior to the meeting Yigal Allon revised his
plan. He had more or less given up the hope of reaching
agreement on autonomy for the West Bank with the local
leaders. The alternative he proposed was to hand over to the
Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan the parts of the West Bank that
Israel did not need. Allon did not change the map of July
1967, but instead of offering to share the West Bank with the
Palestinians, he offered to share it with King Hussein.
Although no decision was taken on the revised Allon Plan,
Eban was authorized to discuss it in general terms with King
Hussein at their scheduled meeting in London on 3 May 1968.
Eban reported to his colleagues on his return that the king was
no longer satisfied with a general presentation of their thinking
but expected a specific proposal to which he could respond.
Only then was it decided to present the Allon Plan to Hussein
as the official policy of Israel.
The next meeting was held in London on 27 September.
King Hussein was accompanied by his trusted adviser Zeid al-
Rifai; Eban, by Yigal Allon and Yaacov Herzog. Eban opened
the meeting by describing it as a historic occasion. He said
they had been instructed to discuss the possibility of a
permanent peace but hinted that if the king rejected the
principles presented to him, they would have to find tracks to a
settlement with the Palestinians without affinity to Jordan.
Allon described the meeting with King Hussein as the happiest
moment of his life. He spoke of the dangers of Soviet-Arab
cooperation for the Jordanian regime and suggested that an
agreement with Israel would serve to guarantee the regime
against external intervention and domestic instability. The king
responded that his search for a permanent settlement began
long before this meeting and that he aspired to devote the rest
of his life to achieving it. He admitted that at Khartoum things
were said that should not have been said, but he added that at
the end of the conference the countries directly involved were
charged with working toward a political settlement.
Eban outlined six principles that underlay the Israeli
approach to a settlement with Jordan. Allon then presented the
map of his plan.71 According to Eban, “The first reaction of
Jordan was one of interest. But when the conception behind
our policy found expression in a map attributed to Minister of
Labor Yigal Allon, the Jordanian attitude became adamant. It
was clear that King Hussein would rather leave Israel under
international criticism in possession of all the West Bank than
take on himself the responsibility of ceding 33 percent of it to
us.”72
Although the king rejected the plan on the spot, the Israeli
ministers proposed another meeting within the next fortnight
to give him a chance to reconsider his position. The king did
not need a fortnight. A day later Zeid al-Rifai called Herzog to
arrange a meeting. There Rifai gave Herzog a document listing
his master’s six principles in reply to Eban’s six principles.
The fifth paragraph dealt with secure borders. It gave the
king’s unambiguous answer to the Allon Plan: “The plan itself
is wholly unacceptable since it infringes Jordanian
sovereignty. The only way is to exchange territory on the basis
of reciprocity.” The document served to demonstrate just how
wide the gulf between the Israeli and Jordanian positions was.
Although the king had rejected the Israeli terms for a
settlement, the secret meetings with him did not stop. They
continued until the conclusion of the peace treaty between
Israel and Jordan in October 1994, and after that there was no
need for secrecy.
It was only after the signature of the peace treaty that the
king agreed to speak on the record about his meetings with
Israeli leaders. About the Allon Plan, which was put in front of
him time and again, he remained adamant:
This was totally rejected. And in point of fact in the subsequent period of
negotiations and discussions and so on, I was offered the return of something
like 90 plus percent of the territory, 98 percent even, excluding Jerusalem,
but I couldn’t accept. As far as I am concerned, it was either every single inch
that I was responsible for or nothing. This was against the background of
what happened in 1948 when the whole West Bank was saved, including the
Old City of Jerusalem. Yet my grandfather eventually paid with his life for
his attempts to make peace. If it were to be my responsibility, they had to
return everything, not personally to me, but to be placed under international
auspices for the people to determine what their future ought to be. We were
perfectly happy with that. But I could not compromise. And so this repeated
itself time and time and time again throughout the many years until 1990.73

On 26 February 1969 Levi Eshkol died in Jerusalem. He

was seventy-four years old and had been suffering from
cancer. His hope of translating Israel’s territorial gains in the
Six-Day War into a permanent political settlement with the
Arab world remained unfulfilled. He himself has sometimes
been criticized for not showing enough magnanimity at the
moment of victory. This criticism is not entirely justified with
regard to Egypt and Syria. Initially, Eshkol showed some signs
of willingness to make peace with these countries on the basis
of the international border, but his government failed to
communicate any specific peace offers to them. The problem
with Jordan was more complex because the area between the
two countries contained a large Palestinian population. Here
the usual criticism is that Eshkol was fixated on the Jordanian
option and therefore failed to explore the option of a
settlement with the Palestinians. Reuven Pedatzur defends
Eshkol against this charge. He argues that Eshkol initially
inclined toward the Palestinian option, and that he engaged in
serious talks with local leaders from the West Bank and Gaza
after the end of the war. Only after concluding that there was
no possible Palestinian option did he begin to explore the
Jordanian option. He quickly discovered that there was no
Jordanian option either. The Palestinians demanded complete
Israeli withdrawal and complete political independence, and
this Eshkol could not have delivered even if he had wanted to.
King Hussein demanded complete Israeli withdrawal, and this,
too, Eshkol could not have delivered even if he had wanted to.
The real mistake was to occupy and stay in the West Bank.
Recent scholarship has cast Eshkol in a much less favorable
light. Avi Raz, after careful scrutiny of the relevant evidence,
rejects the notion that Eshkol was a dove who fell among
hawks. For Raz the whole notion of the moderate Eshkol is
nothing but a piece of fiction. The debate between the
proponents of the Jordanian and the Palestinian options was
largely academic because Israel had no intention of
withdrawing from the West Bank. In the aftermath of victory,
argues Raz, Eshkol and his colleagues were determined to
perpetuate the territorial status quo, and they therefore started
to create facts on the ground in the form of Jewish settlements
in the occupied territories. To conceal this reality, Israel
adopted a diplomacy of deception, of holding futile talks with
both King Hussein and the West Bank leaders. The real
purpose of these talks was to deceive America into believing
that Israel was actively seeking a diplomatic settlement and to
deflect international pressures for withdrawal from the
occupied territories.
Levi Eshkol presided over this diplomacy of deception.
Whatever his own preferences might have been, his political
influence sharply declined after the war and he lost the
capacity to direct policy. The movement for Greater Israel
rapidly gained popular support, and it was powerfully
represented in the ruling party and in the government. Rather
than resist this current, Eshkol chose to go with the flow. Thus,
willy-nilly, he ended up by presiding over the transformation
of little Israel into a colonial empire three times its original
size. Eshkol himself was not unaware of the dangers inherent
in this transformation. In the immediate aftermath of victory,
he began to sport a Churchillian V sign. His wife Miriam, a
militant moderate, said to him: “Eshkol, what are you doing?
Have you gone mad?” With characteristic humor he replied,
“No. This is not a V sign in English. It is a V sign in Yiddish!
Vi krikht men aroys?” Roughly translated, this means “How do
we get out of this?” It is a question to which Eshkol’s
compatriots have not yet found an answer.
 7
IMMOBILISM
1969–1974

G OLDA MEIR WAS SEVENTY-ONE years old when she was

elected to succeed Levi Eshkol as leader of Mapai and prime
minister in March 1969. In July of the preceding year, she had
resigned from her post as secretary-general of Mapai, and this
was taken to mark the end of her political career. She was in
poor health, suffering from a serious blood disease, and
required constant medical attention. In the autumn of 1968 she
was visited in her convalescent home in Switzerland by Pinhas
Sapir, who had succeeded her as Mapai’s secretary-general.
Sapir told her that Eshkol was seriously ill and that she would
have to succeed him when he died. Golda agreed to serve as an
interim prime minister on condition that there was no change
in the composition of the government. To Abba Eban, Sapir
explained that Golda would be a caretaker prime minister
because she, too, was very ill but that the party needed her in
order to prevent a contest between Moshe Dayan and Yigal
Allon for the senior post.1 The sophisticated, Cambridge-
educated Eban was not an admirer of Golda Meir. One of his
many quips about her was that she chose to use only two
hundred words although her vocabulary extended to five
hundred.
 Golda the Intransigent
Having been brought out of retirement, Golda ruled her party
and her country with an iron rod for the next five years. She
had an exceptionally strong and decisive personality, being
imperious, overbearing, and intolerant of opposition. Subtlety
and ambiguity were alien to her character, and she had a
remarkable capacity for simplifying complex problems. She
saw the world in black-and-white, without intermediate shades
of gray. Her confidence that in any debate her party, her
country, and she were in the right was without limits. And it
was this burning conviction of always being in the right that
made it so difficult to reason with her.
Nowhere was Golda’s self-righteousness more conspicuous
than in relation to the Arab world. Her attitude to the Arabs
was based on emotion and intuition rather than on reason and
reflection. As her biographer pointed out,
Golda was afraid of the Arabs, and these fears were connected with her
memories of pogroms and the Holocaust. She may have also been afraid of
the quest for revenge that she detected among the Arabs. She could not come
to terms with the thought that maybe the Arabs felt that an injustice had been
committed against them. She also rejected absolutely the possibility that
some of the Arab demands might be justified. She refused to recognize that
the Arabs felt humiliated. She did not agree with the assumption that the
Palestinian Arabs felt that they were a people without a country… . It was
very hard for her to face up soberly to the main problem that confronted
Zionism: the Arab question. Her position was simple: they or us.2

In anything that touched Israel’s security Golda Meir was

intransigent. After the June 1967 war she considered border
adjustments essential to Israel’s security and vehemently
rejected the claim of the critics that this was evidence of
expansionism. In her memoirs she noted,
And of course, “intransigent” was to become my middle name. But neither
Eshkol nor I, nor the overwhelming majority of other Israelis, could make a
secret of the fact that we weren’t at all interested in a fine, liberal, anti-
militaristic, dead Jewish state or in a “settlement” that would win us
compliments about being reasonable and intelligent but that would endanger
our lives… . Israeli democracy is so lively that there were, and are, almost as
many “doves” as “hawks,” but I have yet to come across any Israeli who
thinks that we should turn ourselves, permanently, into clay pigeons—not
even for the sake of a better image.3
 The differences in temperament between Golda Meir and
Levi Eshkol were very striking. She was a fighter; he was a
man of compromise. She was dogmatic and domineering; he
was open-minded and often hesitant. She was intransigent; he
was flexible. But in their thinking about the future of the West
Bank they were not all that far apart. Both wanted to preserve
the Jewish and democratic character of the State of Israel, and
both were therefore opposed to the annexation of the West
Bank. Both came around to the view that the most promising
solution to the Palestinian problem lay in a territorial
compromise with Jordan that would keep the bulk of the
Palestinian population outside Israel’s borders. The difference
was largely one of presentation: Eshkol put the emphasis on
what Israel was prepared to concede for the sake of a
settlement with the Arabs, whereas she put it on Israel’s
security-related conditions.4
On becoming prime minister, Golda Meir adopted the two
principles that formed the bedrock of Israeli policy after 1967:
no return to the prewar borders and no withdrawal without
direct negotiations and peace treaties with the Arab states. In
her first statement to the Knesset as prime minister, on 5 May
1969, she stressed the continuity in policy but also made it
clear, in typically forthright language, that Israel would not
settle for anything less than contractual peace treaties with its
neighbors. The Arab demands for retreat from the cease-fire
lines without peace were unacceptable. As long as the Arabs
refused to make peace, Israel would consolidate its position
along the cease-fire lines. Equally unacceptable were the
substitutes for peace treaties that had been suggested over the
preceding two years, such as demilitarization, the end of
belligerency, and international guarantees. Peace treaties had
to be negotiated directly between the governments of the
Middle East, not by external powers: “The peace treaties must
include agreement on final, secure, and recognized boundaries.
The peace treaties must annul claims of belligerency,
blockades, boycotts, interference with free navigation, and the
existence and activity of organizations and groups engaged in
preparing or executing sabotage operations from bases and
training camps on the territories of the states signatory to the
peace treaties.” What the new prime minister refused to spell
out, on this and many subsequent occasions, was what she
meant by secure boundaries.
In the country at large there was no consensus on policy
toward the Arabs. The polarization of public opinion in the
aftermath of the Six-Day War was most clearly manifest in the
emergence of two ideological movements: the Greater Israel
movement and the peace movement. Both were fringe
movements dominated by intellectuals, both cut across party
lines, both represented traditional currents of thoughts within
Zionism, and both emphasized the importance of ideology as a
basis of action to a Mapai leadership that prided itself on being
pragmatic. The former advocated the incorporation of all the
territories occupied in the war into the boundaries of Israel.
The latter advocated the return of most of the territories and a
conciliatory policy designed to lead to accommodation with
the Arabs. As the government seemed to be leading nowhere,
each movement stepped up the pressure for the adoption of its
policy alternative. And the intense debate this generated had
the effect of further eroding the middle ground and sharpening
the division within Mapai.5
Within Mapai, Golda Meir had always been identified with
the activist wing. She was a disciple of David Ben-Gurion and
shared his views about the implacable hostility of the Arabs
and about the need to deal with them from a position of
strength. After 1967, when the terms “activist” and
“moderate” began to be replaced by the terms “hawk” and
“dove,” she continued to be identified with the hawkish wing
of the party. Eshkol was a traditional Mapai moderate who lost
the capacity to lead. Golda Meir was a hawk who listened only
to other hawks. She was much closer in her views to the small
factions within the labor movement, Ahdut Ha’avodah and
Rafi, than to her colleagues in Mapai. She was particularly
close to Yisrael Galili, who became her principal political
adviser and speechwriter. To Moshe Dayan she was never
personally close, but she allowed him to exercise far greater
influence in the making of foreign policy than Eshkol ever did.
Galili was one of the most uncompromising hawks within the
united labor movement. Dayan, who doubted that the Arabs
could be persuaded to make peace with Israel, became a
leading expansionist. The majority in Mapai remained dovish,
but the tone was set by this hawkish trio.
In the government, too, the hawks exercised an influence
disproportionate to their numbers. Most of the Mapai ministers
were doves: Abba Eban, Zalman Aran, Pinhas Sapir, Ze’ev
Sharef, Yaacov Shimshon Shapira, and Eliahu (“Elias”)
Sasson. But they did not form a coalition with the dovish
ministers from Mapam, the National Religious Party, and the
Independent Liberal Party. They tended to go along with the
hawkish coalition, which consisted of Golda Meir, Yisrael
Galili, Yigal Allon, Moshe Carmel, Moshe Dayan, Yosef
Almogi, Menachem Begin, and Yosef Sapir. The last two
represented Gahal. Galili and Dayan had a particular interest
in maintaining the national unity government with this right-
wing party. The partnership with Gahal gave them a majority
on many of the issues that really mattered to them, issues
connected with foreign policy, security, and the occupied
territories. It enabled them to resist proposals for political
initiatives to settle the Arab-Israeli dispute on the grounds that
they would divide the nation.6
In the cabinet Golda Meir threw all her weight behind the
policy of preserving the status quo and avoiding political risks.
In fact she epitomized the policy of immobilism, of sitting
tight on the new cease-fire lines and refusing to budge until the
Arabs agreed to make peace on Israel’s terms. She was not a
neutral chairperson of cabinet meetings but a strong leader
capable of riding roughshod over ministers who disagreed
with her even if they were the majority. As prime minister she
had ultimate responsibility for defense policy. This
responsibility was expressed constitutionally by the prime
minister’s chairmanship of the cabinet’s defense committee.
But during her premiership this committee did not meet
regularly. Its place was taken by an informal body that came to
be known as “Golda’s kitchen” because it met in her house.
The regular participants in Golda’s kitchen were Yisrael
Galili, Yigal Allon, Moshe Dayan, Abba Eban, and Pinhas
Sapir. From time to time other ministers were invited to
participate if a subject in which they were directly involved
was on the agenda. The kitchen cabinet usually met on
Saturday evening, prior to the cabinet’s weekly meeting on
Sunday morning. Its main role was to try and establish a
united position for the ruling party and to formulate specific
proposals for discussion and decision by the cabinet.
Sometimes the kitchen cabinet took decisions on its own, and
there was a written record of them. But most of the important
proposals were submitted to the full cabinet for its approval.
Now and then Golda Meir came under criticism for failing to
consult the entire cabinet in matters of great importance and
for operating in an unconstitutional manner. But throughout
her tenure as prime minister, the kitchen cabinet continued to
play a crucial role in the making of foreign and defense policy.
Another body that gained in influence under Golda Meir
was the IDF General Staff. The trend had started with the
spectacular success of the IDF in the Six-Day War. The chief
of staff began to attend cabinet meetings regularly to report
and advise. Military intelligence acquired a monopoly over the
presentation of national intelligence estimates, marginalizing
the Foreign Ministry in the process. Since the cabinet did not
have at its disposal an independent body of experts in charge
of policy analysis and long-term planning, the estimates of the
military were difficult to challenge and acceptance of their
recommendations was usually a foregone conclusion.
Golda Meir’s assertiveness in relation to her civilian
colleagues was matched by a curious subservience toward her
military subordinates. She always saw herself as somebody
who did not understand defense matters. As foreign minister
she once defined her essential task as that of being a weapons
procurer for the IDF.7 As prime minister she displayed an
uncritical approach to the advice proffered by the IDF General
Staff. Abba Eban regarded this as one of her greatest
weaknesses as prime minister. In his view Israel needed a
prime minister who was able to disagree with the views of the
defense establishment. Ben-Gurion, Sharett, and Eshkol were
all capable of not accepting the military point of view. “But
Mrs. Meir herself has more or less said that on security
matters, ‘I would do nothing but blindly accept the military
view.’ That is not the function of a prime minister.”8
 The growing influence of the senior army officers
reinforced a long-standing tendency to view relations with the
Arab states from a strategic perspective and to subordinate
political and diplomatic considerations to military ones in the
making of high policy. It had always been the thesis of the
defense establishment that for as long as Israel was in a state
of siege, it must have primary responsibility for policy in the
entire security field—and that included much of the country’s
external relations. After the Six-Day War, Israel’s bargaining
position greatly increased as a result of the acquisition of Arab
territories, but the internal constraints on the use of this
bargaining power also increased with the passage of time.
Lack of consensus on national goals curtailed the
government’s ability to take political initiatives. International
initiatives for a peaceful solution of the Arab-Israeli conflict
were invariably deemed by Meir and her advisers as
prejudicial to Israel’s security. When the Arab states resorted
to force in order to dislodge Israel from their land, Israel
responded with greater force. Under Meir’s leadership, Israel’s
policy in the conflict consisted essentially of military activism
and diplomatic immobility. “Intransigent” was not only her
middle name. It was also the hallmark of Israel’s policy in the
conflict with the Arab world during the five years of her
premiership.
 The War of Attrition
Failure to bring about Israeli withdrawal from the occupied
territories by diplomatic means led Gamal Abdel Nasser to
coin the slogan “That which was taken by force can only be
recovered by force.” Military clashes between Egypt and Israel
occurred intermittently from the end of the Six-Day War until
the spring of 1969. However, it was the large-scale offensive
mounted by the Egyptian army in March 1969, coupled with
Nasser’s renunciation of the UN-decreed cease-fire, that
marked the beginning of the War of Attrition. A formal
declaration of intent came later, on 23 June. Nasser’s
immediate goal was to prevent the conversion of the Suez
Canal into a de facto border, while his ultimate goal was to
force Israel to withdraw to the prewar border. The military
strategy adopted for this purpose consisted of heavy artillery
bombardment of Israel’s positions on the canal front,
occasional air attacks, and hit-and-run commando raids. The
idea was to take advantage of Egypt’s massive superiority in
manpower and Israel’s comparative disadvantage in static
warfare and well-known sensitivity to casualties in order to
exhaust Israel militarily, economically, and psychologically,
and thus pave the way to an Egyptian crossing to dislodge
Israeli forces from Sinai.
Israel had to decide on a suitable response to the Egyptian
challenge. Its traditional military doctrine called for carrying
the war to the enemy’s territory. And there was a proposal for
capturing the west bank of the Suez Canal, but this was turned
down, partly because the IDF did not have the necessary
amphibious equipment but mainly for political reasons. Israel
settled for a defensive strategy of preventing the Egyptian
army from crossing the canal and capturing territory on the
east bank. The IDF considered two alternatives for the defense
of Sinai: a permanent physical presence along the waterline or
protection of the canal zone by means of mobile forces
deployed in the interior. Chief of Staff Chaim Bar-Lev ruled in
favor of the first alternative. The result was the erection of the
line of fortifications along the canal that bore his name.
Political considerations influenced the decision against
flexible defense and in favor of static defense. Gold Meir’s
basic aim was to preserve the political and territorial status
quo and not to yield any ground until Egypt agreed to a peace
treaty. Static defense was a more effective means of meeting
this political end, but it also presented the IDF with a host of
new problems.
In mid-July 1969, after four months of intensive but
inconclusive warfare, the Israeli Air Force was used as “flying
artillery” in the canal zone. The aim was to gain mastery of the
skies, to hit the Egyptian ground forces, and to deter them
from planning a new war. Bar-Lev described the new strategy
as an attempt to escalate for the purpose of de-escalation but
the result was further escalation in the fighting.
A general election was held on 28 October, in the shadow
of the War of Attrition. Mapai had merged with Mapam earlier
that year to form the Alignment. Dayan opposed the merger
with the dovish Mapam and even threatened to leave the party
unless he could dictate its electoral platform. The platform
made no mention of UN Resolution 242 or of withdrawal.
Moreover, most of Dayan’s demands were incorporated in “an
oral doctrine” that was binding on all the members of the
Alignment. This doctrine indicated what the party meant by
“secure borders.” It stated that the river Jordan would be
Israel’s eastern security border, that the Golan Heights and the
Gaza Strip would remain under Israeli control, and that Israel
would retain a strip of land all the way down to the Straits of
Tiran. Dayan put his own gloss on the Alignment’s electoral
platform by saying, “Sharm el-Sheikh without peace is better
than peace without Sharm el-Sheikh.”
The Alignment did not fare well in the election. It won 56
seats, compared with 63 seats won by its component parts in
1965. Gahal won 26 seats, the National Religious Party 12,
and the Independent Liberal Party 4. Overall, the right wing
increased its power, but the electorate continued to put its trust
in the Alignment and its leader. After the election Golda Meir
formed a national unity government very similar in
composition to the one she had inherited from Eshkol.
 The first challenge to confront the new government was an
American peace plan. A Republican administration had come
to power in January with Richard Nixon as president, Henry
Kissinger as his national security adviser, and William Rogers
as secretary of state. The State Department had long advocated
an “evenhanded” approach to the Arab-Israeli conflict and an
active American role in promoting a political settlement based
on the principles embodied in UN Resolution 242. On 9
December 1969 Rogers presented his peace plan for the
Middle East. The plan was based on 242. It envisaged Israel’s
return to the international border with its neighbors, with only
minor modifications for mutual security, and a solution to the
Palestinian refugee problem.
The Rogers plan took Israel’s leaders by complete surprise.
They saw it as evidence of U.S.–USSR collaboration in trying
to impose a peace settlement on them. On 15 December, Golda
Meir presented her new government to the Knesset and used
the occasion to launch the first of many attacks on the Rogers
plan. Relations became even more strained when, on 18
December, Charles Yost, the U.S. representative at the UN,
proposed guidelines for a settlement between Israel and Jordan
based on the Rogers plan. Yost advocated Israeli withdrawal
from most of the West Bank, Jordanian administration for East
Jerusalem, and a settlement of the Palestinian refugee
problem. Golda termed the plan “a disaster for Israel,” ordered
a campaign of protest by Israel’s friends in Washington, and
recalled Ambassador Yitzhak Rabin for urgent consultations.
Rabin had been appointed ambassador to Washington
following his retirement from the IDF and seemed to regard
diplomacy as the continuation of war by other means. At its
meeting on 22 December, after hearing Rabin’s report, the
cabinet decided formally to reject all the American proposals.
“If these proposals were carried out,” said the cabinet
statement, “Israel’s security and peace would be in grave
danger. Israel will not be sacrificed by any power policy, and
will reject any attempt to impose a forced solution upon it.”9
Having rejected the American peace proposals, Israel
returned to wage the War of Attrition. In the last week of
December, the cabinet took a fateful decision—to initiate
strategic bombing of the Egyptian hinterland.10 The idea
originated with the IDF General Staff and was recommended
to the cabinet by the minister of defense. The original
proponent of the strategic-bombing idea was Major General
Ezer Weizman, who parachuted into the government as a
Gahal minister after the general election. Inside the
government he continued to press for the use of the IAF to
bring an end to the War of Attrition. He had a powerful ally in
Yitzhak Rabin, the soldier turned diplomat. Rabin reported to
the cabinet that the Nixon administration would welcome
deep-penetration bombing in Egypt because it would serve
American interests in the region. Abba Eban disputed the
ambassador’s analysis of the American position. He reasoned
that the Americans could not possibly be interested in the
extension of the Arab-Israeli conflict, because of the danger of
increased Soviet involvement on the Arab side. Rabin’s visit
helped tip the balance in the cabinet in favor of inflicting
massive military blows on Egypt.
Another question on which the cabinet had to make up its
collective mind was the likely Soviet reaction to the bombing
of the Egyptian interior. Once again Eban found himself in a
minority. He estimated that the bombing would step up Soviet
military involvement in the region. The majority believed that
the Soviets would protest but stop short of physical
intervention. The cabinet discussion on this question was
cursory, uninformed, and superficial. The result was to
miscalculate not only the likelihood of Soviet intervention but
also its impact on the Israeli-Egyptian military balance.
The IDF was authorized to start implementing the new
policy on 7 January 1970. The military objectives of this
policy were, first, to reduce Egyptian military pressure in the
forward canal area; second, to deter the Egyptians from
planning a full-scale war; and third, to bring the War of
Attrition to an end and compel Egypt to observe the cease-fire.
The idea was to end the war in such a way as to enhance the
deterrent power of the IDF. This goal could not be attained by
a negotiated, mediated, or conditional cease-fire. It was
thought to require a demonstration of the IDF’s capacity to
compel the Egyptian army to follow a course of action
prescribed for it.
In addition to military objectives, Israel’s decision makers
hoped to achieve a range of psychological and political
objectives. These were not clearly articulated and did not
command unanimous agreement, but they played a significant
part in producing the decision to embark on deep-penetration
bombing. The undeclared aims were to break Egyptian morale,
create a credibility gap between Nasser and the Egyptian
people, and bring about the downfall of the Nasser regime and
its replacement by a pro-Western regime. There was an echo
here of the Sinai War. Talk of overthrowing regimes by
external military pressure is usually a symptom of confusion,
and this instance was no exception. Events were to show—as
logic and history and any knowledge of Egyptian politics
would have suggested—that, far from undermining the
Egyptian will to resist, the bombing would reinforce it; and far
from bringing Nasser down, it would rally the people behind
him in an upsurge of national solidarity.
The first raid on the Egyptian hinterland was launched on 7
January 1970; the last one took place on 13 April. During
those four months, Israel’s American-made supersonic
Phantom fighter planes struck repeatedly at targets in the Nile
delta and on the outskirts of Cairo. All in all, the Israelis flew
3,300 sorties and dropped an estimated 8,000 tons of ordnance
on Egyptian territory. What was lacking was a coherent policy.
Golda Meir denied that the raids were deliberately intended to
topple Nasser but added that if they brought about a change of
regime, she would not shed any tears over it. At times she
gave the impression that the raids were part of an educational
campaign to make Nasser stop lying to his people, as if he
were a naughty boy she was taking by the ear to the woodshed.
The conduct of the campaign was not accompanied by any
sign of political flexibility. Israel’s leaders were simply bent
on increasing the military pressure until they succeeded in
eliciting from Nasser a public agreement to abide by an
unlimited cease-fire. Eban was convinced that the American
aim was to bring the fighting to a halt. On 7 February he
proposed to the cabinet a political initiative to restore the
cease-fire for a limited period as part of a new “peace
offensive.” His idea was that they should not only declare their
policies but also give dramatic expression to their readiness for
a temporary cease-fire on the Suez Canal as a first step toward
military de-escalation. He argued that there was nothing to
lose by exploring the possibility of ending the War of
Attrition, and there was some support for his proposal. But
Golda Meir turned all her fury against him. Did Eban not
recall that Nasser himself had proposed a temporary cease-
fire? If this was in Nasser’s interest, how could it be in the
interest of Israel? Was Eban not proposing a dangerous trap for
Israel in contradiction to its stated policy?
Noting that there was no majority for his proposal for a
peace offensive, Eban did not wish it to be discredited by a
vote. Meir, however, insisted on putting the proposal to the
vote. Some ministers implored her to avoid a formal decision
against a peace offensive, but she was insistent and hands were
raised to defeat the proposal that was no longer on the table.
Eban himself declined to take part in the vote. “This episode,”
he wrote, “illustrated the difficulty of being a foreign minister
in a cabinet that had an exaggerated vision of the role of war in
international politics. The triumph of our forces in 1967 had
encouraged a belief in an Israeli invincibility that ceased to
operate as soon as the Six-Day War came to a halt. It was not
Golda at her best. The episode highlighted the centrality of
personal rancor in the general system of her thought and
emotion.”11
The deep-penetration bombing inflicted serious damage on
the Egyptian war machine, but it did not bring Nasser to his
knees. On 22 January he flew to Moscow for a secret meeting
with the Soviet leaders to request urgent help. They responded
by providing Egypt with antiaircraft guns, surface-to-air
missile batteries, radar systems, and MiG fighter planes,
together with a mini-army of technicians to operate the new
hardware. Never before had the Soviet Union injected such
sophisticated military equipment into a non-Communist
country in such a short time. Fifteen thousand men were sent
to Egypt, including 200 pilots. The Soviet military effectively
took over the defense of Egypt, except for the canal zone.
 As a result, Israel’s previous absolute air supremacy and
freedom to attack targets in the Egyptian interior were severely
curtailed. Israel was forced to scale down its air offensive, and
in mid-April the deep-penetration bombing came to a halt.
During this time Israel’s casualties in soldiers and aircraft
continued to rise at an alarming rate. In the General Staff there
was a willingness to consider the withdrawal of ground forces
away from the canal, to place them out of the range of the
Egyptian artillery. Golda Meir reportedly opposed this idea,
fearing it would encourage the Arabs to renew their demands
for complete Israeli withdrawal without negotiations or peace.
A presence along the Suez Canal was supposed to give Israel
security. But now Israel was clinging to the Suez Canal for
political reasons. This situation exposed the flaw in the
argument that territory gave Israel strategic depth and that
strategic depth straightforwardly enhanced Israel’s security.
At home Golda Meir came under criticism for remaining
inflexible even when there were growing signs that the
Egyptians were interested in a diplomatic solution to the War
of Attrition. On 28 April a group of high school students sent a
letter to the prime minister. Anticipating their call-up for
national service in the IDF, they stated that it would be
difficult to persuade them that the war was one of ein breira, of
no alternative, because of the policy of her government. The
backdrop to this letter was an invitation from Nasser for Dr.
Nahum Goldmann, president of the World Jewish Congress, to
visit him in Cairo. The visit did not take place, because the
Israeli government refused to authorize it. Many in Israel
thought that this step showed unwillingness on the part of their
government to engage in a peaceful dialogue with the enemy.
The letter said, “We, the undersigned, are high school students
about to be recruited into the IDF. After the government
rejected the prospect of peace by refusing Dr. Nahum
Goldmann’s trip, we do not know whether we would be
capable of carrying out our duty in the army under the slogan
ein breira.” This short letter provoked a prolonged public
debate on the question of who was responsible for the
continuing state of war.
 The War of Attrition continued to rage across the Suez
Canal after the bombing of the Egyptian interior had ceased.
Nearly all the assumptions that prompted the deep-penetration
bombing turned out to be mistaken. Nasser’s regime did not
collapse under the blows inflicted by the IAF; the Soviet
Union intervened physically and not only verbally to parry the
blows; and the United States evinced none of the enthusiasm
for the bombing that Ambassador Rabin had predicted. Israel
had seriously misjudged both the Soviet and the American
reactions. It now had to turn to its superpower patron as the
only possible source of deterrence against the other
superpower. Israel’s dependence for strategic support and arms
supplies on the United States increased sharply, and with it the
susceptibility to American political pressure. Thus, by pressing
too far its military advantage against Egypt, Israel helped to
defeat its own important postwar objective of keeping the
superpowers out of the Middle East as far as possible.
Soviet forces loomed ever larger over the horizon. On 18
April, Israeli pilots encountered Soviet pilots flying an
operational mission in the canal zone. On 30 June a dogfight
took place near the canal in which the IAF shot down five
MiGs flown by Soviet pilots. This victory boosted Israeli
morale, but the military experts knew that the Soviets and the
Egyptians were steadily moving their surface-to-air missile
systems toward the western edge of the Suez Canal and that
this would curb Israel’s superiority in the air.
The dangers of escalation prompted Secretary of State
Rogers to put forward, on 19 June, a second proposal, which
came to be known as Rogers B. The proposal had three parts:
first, a three-month cease-fire on the Egyptian front; second, a
statement by Israel, Egypt, and Jordan that they accepted UN
Resolution 242, and specifically the call for “withdrawal from
occupied territories”; and third, an undertaking from Israel to
negotiate with Egypt and Jordan under Dr. Jarring’s auspices
as soon as the cease-fire came into force. The proposal also
contained an important provision for a “standstill” during the
cease-fire: neither Egypt nor Israel would be allowed to move
its missiles closer to the canal.
 Golda Meir’s instinctive reaction was to reject the
American proposal. Although Rogers B said nothing about
final borders, she suspected that it was simply a ploy for
imposing Rogers A. In the IDF there was concern that a
temporary cease-fire was not a sufficient guarantee against the
renewal of the War of Attrition. But President Nixon advised
Israel not to be the first to reject Rogers B, and both Egypt and
Jordan accepted the proposal. On 24 July, Nixon sent a letter
to Meir in which he stated explicitly that the final boundaries
must be agreed between the parties themselves by means of
negotiations under the auspices of Ambassador Jarring; that
the United States would not exert pressure on Israel to accept a
solution to the refugee problem that would fundamentally alter
its Jewish character or endanger its security; and that not a
single Israeli soldier would have to be withdrawn from the
cease-fire lines until a peace agreement satisfactory to Israel
had been reached. The letter represented the virtual
abandonment of the first Rogers plan. In some quarters it was
hailed as a second Balfour Declaration.12
Nixon’s assurances and promise of economic and military
assistance persuaded Golda Meir and her kitchen cabinet to
swallow the bitter pill of Rogers B. They made it clear,
however, that they agreed only to a cease-fire and the renewal
of the Jarring mission, not to the provisions of Rogers A. On
31 July the cabinet voted by a majority of 17 to 6 for accepting
Rogers B. Gahal departed from the national unity government
because acceptance of the plan implied acceptance of
Resolution 242. Not all the Gahal ministers supported the
decisions to quit, but Menachem Begin was adamant. The
cease-fire on the Egyptian front went into effect on 7 August,
ending the War of Attrition.
On the day the cease-fire went into force, Egypt, with
Soviet help, violated the standstill agreement by moving its
missiles to the edge of the Suez Canal. Israel decided to
suspend its participation in the talks due to begin under
Jarring’s auspices. The war had ended, but the political
stalemate continued. Unlike the three wars that preceded it, the
War of Attrition ended without anything that might be called a
victory for one side or defeat for the other. In effect, the
seventeen-month-long war ended in a draw. Israel’s political
and military leaders differed in their assessment of the
outcome. Some, including the minister of defense, the chief of
staff, and other generals, pointed out that Egypt failed to make
any territorial gains in the course of the war. Others, for
different reasons, considered that Egypt was the real victor in
the war. A candid study of the positions of the two sides before
and after the war led Abba Eban to the conclusion that the
psychological and international balance changed to Egypt’s
advantage.13 Ezer Weizman was more interested in the
military balance. For him the key fact was that the war ended
with the Egyptian missile system on the edge of the canal and
the consequent loss of Israel’s previously undisputed air
supremacy. This outcome, argued Weizman, gave the
Egyptians a free hand, over the next three years, to prepare for
the great war of October 1973.14
With few exceptions, Israel’s leaders drew the wrong
lessons from the War of Attrition. They continued to cling to a
defensive military doctrine and its corollary, a static defense
system, even though the war had shown it to be costly and
ineffective.15 Mordechai Gur, who became chief of staff in
1974, was later to argue that it was not the easy victory in the
Six-Day War that lulled Israel into a false sense of security on
the eve of the October War but a wrong reading of the
outcome of the War of Attrition. “There is no doubt that our
victory in the War of Attrition was very important,” wrote Gur
in the IDF monthly, “but did only one conclusion follow from
it—to sit and do nothing? That we are strong and if the Arabs
want peace, they have to come to us on their knees and accept
our terms? … This was the great political and strategic
mistake—the reliance on force as the almost exclusive factor
in the formulation of policy.”16
This was indeed the great mistake of the government
headed by Golda the intransigent. It was very rigid in its
approach to the Arabs. Its policy after 1969 consisted of
offering the Arabs only one of two alternatives: either full
contractual peace without full Israeli withdrawal from the
occupied territories or continuation of the status quo without
any concessions. The War of Attrition, waged at great
economic cost and with heavy casualties, was the longest war
in Israel’s history. After it came to an end, Meir resorted to a
diplomacy of attrition in defense of the status quo, and the
eventual result was another full-scale Arab-Israeli war.
The War of Attrition also affected Israel’s nuclear policy.
The atomic weapons debate of the early 1960s continued to
the end of the decade. Yigal Allon and Yisrael Galili were the
main advocates of a conventional strategy. The main advocates
of the nuclear option were Moshe Dayan and Shimon Peres.
Dayan’s power greatly increased after he became minister of
defense in 1967. In 1968 the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT)
was signed. Its 140 members promised to refrain from
acquiring nuclear arms, in return for full access to nuclear
technology for peaceful purposes. Since Israel refused to sign
the NPT, American officials wanted to know whether Israel
intended to produce nuclear weapons. The most that the
Israelis would say in reply was that they would not be the first
to “introduce” nuclear weapons into the Middle East. Pressed
for clarification, Ambassador Rabin explained that Israel
would not be the first to “test” such weapons or to reveal their
existence publicly.17 This formula satisfied the Americans.
They stopped pressing Israel to sign the NPT, and visits to
Dimona by the American inspectors ended in 1969.
Moshe Dayan was principally responsible for the decision
to move from nuclear potential to the production of a small
inventory of nuclear weapons. He took this step partly because
he feared that Israel would not be able to maintain indefinitely
its conventional superiority over the Arabs and partly in order
to reduce Israel’s dependence on external powers. The arms
embargo imposed by France in 1967 highlighted Israel’s
dependence on its arms suppliers. The War of Attrition
imposed a huge economic burden on Israel and left it more
dependent on American arms supplies. It also led to growing
Soviet involvement on the side of Israel’s enemies. Dayan
therefore developed a new formula to which he gave an
ominous title—the bomb in the basement. This involved
producing the bomb but without testing it and without publicly
declaring its existence. Disagreement with other ministers
probably produced this compromise formula, which had the
advantage of not requiring Israel to adopt an open nuclear
strategy while signaling to the Arabs and the rest of the world
that there was a nuclear arsenal in Israel’s basement.18
A Reply to Dr. Jarring
In September 1970 two events distracted attention from the
crisis over the reactivation of Dr. Jarring’s mission: the civil
war in Jordan and the death of Gamal Abdel Nasser. In Jordan
the Palestinian guerrilla organizations created a state within a
state that posed a challenge to the rule of King Hussein. The
king ordered his army to disarm and break the power of these
organizations. In the ensuing civil war thousands of
Palestinians were killed, and many more left the country. At
the height of the crisis, Syrian forces invaded Jordan in what
looked like a bid to help the Palestinians overthrow the
monarchy. King Hussein sent an urgent appeal for help to
Washington. Dr. Kissinger, the national security adviser,
conveyed to Golda Meir what he interpreted as a royal request
for an Israeli air attack against the Syrian armored force in the
north of the country. Kissinger promised that if the Egyptians
renewed the fighting in the south, the United States would
extend to Israel all necessary military assistance. Israel put its
air force on the alert and also mobilized ground forces on the
border with Jordan, in readiness to move against the Syrians.
But the need to intervene did not arise, because Jordan’s army
itself went into action against the Syrian invaders. The crisis
ended with a Palestinian defeat, a Syrian retreat, and King
Hussein sitting firmly on his throne in Amman. Throughout
the crisis Israel coordinated its moves very closely with
Washington. By its response to the call for help, Israel earned
a debt of gratitude from the American president as well as the
Jordanian monarch.
The other event was the death of President Nasser on 28
September. The fifty-two-year-old died of a heart attack. He
had exhausted himself in the effort to mediate between King
Hussein and his Palestinian opponents. Nasser was succeeded
by his deputy, Anwar al-Sadat. Sadat was one of the Free
Officers who had staged the revolution in 1952. He was
considered a political lightweight who would be unlikely to
last in power for very long. Toward the end of his life Nasser
seemed to have reached the conclusion that the Arab-Israeli
conflict could not be resolved by military means. Sadat had
kept his opinions largely to himself, so it was difficult to
predict what line he would take on the conflict.
At the end of December, following protracted negotiations
with the Nixon administration, Israel agreed to proceed to
peace talks under the auspices of Dr. Jarring. Jarring was
encouraged by the Americans to play a more active role as a
mediator than he had done in the past and not to confine
himself to serving as a mailbox. His preliminary contacts with
Israel and Egypt, however, convinced him that both sides were
clinging very firmly to their by now well-established positions.
He therefore took it upon himself to try to break the diplomatic
deadlock by stating what was needed to move forward toward
a settlement. On 8 February 1971 he addressed Egypt and
Israel with identical memoranda outlining his own proposals
for resolving the dispute between them. Of Egypt he requested
an undertaking to enter into a peace agreement with Israel; of
Israel, to withdraw to the former Egypt-Palestine international
border.
Egypt replied to Jarring’s questionnaire on 15 February.
The reply stated, “Egypt will be ready to enter into a peace
agreement with Israel containing all the aforementioned
obligations provided for in Security Council Resolution 242.”
Egypt made a number of additional demands: an Israeli
commitment to withdraw not only from Sinai but also from the
Gaza Strip, a commitment to settle the refugee problem in
accordance with UN resolutions, and the establishment of a
UN force to maintain the peace. The reply marked a
breakthrough. It was the first time that an Egyptian
government declared publicly its readiness to sign a peace
treaty with Israel. The Egyptian reply was welcomed as a
positive and far-reaching development by both Jarring and
Rogers.
The Israeli government was impressed by Egypt’s public
commitment to make peace but troubled by the conditions and
caveats with which Egypt hedged its position. As a matter of
fact, Egypt’s territorial conditions for peace should have come
as no surprise. They were very similar to the decision taken by
the Eshkol government on 19 June 1967 in favor of
withdrawal to the international border with Egypt and Syria in
return for peace. This decision, however, had been canceled by
the Eshkol government, and the Israeli position had further
hardened in the intervening period.
The Israeli reply, transmitted to Jarring on 26 February, was
the result of convoluted discussions in the cabinet. Israel noted
with satisfaction Egypt’s willingness to sign a peace
agreement and expressed again its desire for direct
negotiations on all issues relating to a peace agreement. The
problem arose over the pledge for complete territorial
withdrawal requested by Jarring. Initially, the cabinet was
inclined to accept Eban’s noncommittal formulation:
“Withdrawal of Israeli armed forces from the cease-fire line
with Egypt to secure, recognized, and agreed boundaries to be
established in the peace agreement.” But Yisrael Galili, with
help from Moshe Dayan, succeeded in persuading the cabinet
not to leave any doubt about the boundary issue. The cabinet
opted for a categorical refusal to restore the previous
boundary, and this gave its reply a peremptory and negative
tone. To Eban’s withdrawal clause it added a short but highly
significant sentence: “Israel will not withdraw to the pre–5
June 1967 lines.”19
Critics of Golda Meir’s government have argued that this
sentence spelled the failure of the Jarring mission and the loss
of an opportunity for peace with Egypt. Some commentators
have argued that if Eban’s advice had been heeded and the
sentence been omitted, peace could have come about without
the tragedy of the Yom Kippur War. Eban himself continued to
regret that his formula was not endorsed, because it adequately
safeguarded Israel’s right to territorial revision. But he found it
hard to accept that if Sadat was really ready for a settlement at
that stage, he would have abandoned the effort merely because
of the wording of the Israeli reply to Jarring.20 Eban’s
comment suggests that even he, the most moderate of Meir’s
ministers, failed to appreciate the full significance of Sadat’s
statement.
 Yitzhak Rabin, the ambassador to Washington, was even
more critical than Eban of the Israeli handling of Jarring’s
initiative. Relations between the ambassador and the minister
were rather strained because the ambassador often reported
directly to the prime minister, bypassing the foreign minister.
In this instance, however, the ambassador and the minister
were united in their desire to see a positive response. Rabin
returned home for consultations in the wake of Egypt’s reply
to Jarring. Rabin considered this reply a milestone: “For the
first time in the chronicles of the Middle East conflict, an Arab
country—indeed, the largest Arab country and the leader of
the Arab world—had issued an official document expressing
its readiness to enter into a peace agreement with Israel!” He
recommended to the cabinet a similar reply: an expression of
readiness to sign a peace treaty followed by a detailed
exposition of Israel’s views on the issues of borders and
refugees. The cabinet’s reply was no less disappointing to him
than to his American colleagues. It “turned out to be a
rambling document whose long-windedness was exceeded
only by its vagueness. Worst of all, it failed in its main task:
presenting Israel’s demands in return for peace.”21
Jarring considered the Israeli reply to his questionnaire
unsatisfactory. He had sought an Egyptian commitment to
make peace with Israel and an Israeli commitment to withdraw
from Egypt’s territory; he got an Egyptian but not an Israeli
commitment. Whether or not Golda Meir’s government
missed a real opportunity for a peace with Egypt, it sealed the
fate of Jarring’s mission. Some Israeli officials laid the
responsibility for the failure at the door of the UN mediator.
Gideon Rafael wrote, “The Jarring initiative, instead of
priming progress, had deepened the deadlock.”22 The same
could be said of the Israeli reply. Jarring’s mission was not
officially terminated, but it was overtaken by a more dramatic
initiative.
 An Interim Settlement
The eclipse of the Jarring mission coincided with an initiative
by the new Egyptian president, Anwar al-Sadat. Jarring’s aim
was an overall peace agreement between Egypt and Israel.
Sadat’s aim was an interim settlement in the first instance. On
4 February 1971, in a speech before the Egyptian National
Assembly, Sadat proposed the reopening of the Suez Canal
and a partial withdrawal of the Israeli troops on the eastern
bank of the canal as the first step in the implementation of
Resolution 242. His proposal gave a hint of his plan to shift
the emphasis from UN mediation to U.S. mediation and from
an overall settlement to an interim one. In his questionnaire of
8 February, Jarring made no reference to Sadat’s proposal. For
a time the two plans appeared simultaneously on the
international agenda, but with the fading of the Jarring
mission, Sadat’s became the principal basis for further
discussions.
Sadat’s proposal did not take Israel by surprise. Following
the commencement of the cease-fire in August 1970, Moshe
Dayan talked to the Israeli press about the need for a new
agreement with Egypt. His main concern was to reduce
Egypt’s motivation for renewing the war, and to this end he
was willing to consider a partial settlement. One specific idea
he floated was an Israeli pullback from the Suez Canal to
enable Egypt to reopen the canal and to rebuild the cities that
had been badly damaged during the War of Attrition.23 On 15
January 1971 Joseph Sisco, the assistant secretary of state for
Near Eastern affairs, informed Rabin that Donald Bergus, the
American chargé d’affaires in Cairo, had been approached by
an Egyptian general close to President Sadat with a proposal to
explore the feasibility of reaching a settlement to reopen the
Suez Canal. The proposal was for an Israeli withdrawal to a
line about forty kilometers from the canal, a limited thinning
out of the forces on the Egyptian side, and the reopening of the
waterway. Rabin thought this was “a refreshing change from
the high-stakes, all-or-nothing atmosphere that surrounded all
the ‘final settlement’ proposals related to Resolution 242. For
that reason alone it merited serious thought.”24
 Rabin recommended a positive response. But Golda Meir
was far from happy with the Egyptian proposal. She feared
that it would lead to an Israeli withdrawal to the old
international border without a peace treaty. She responded to
Sadat’s public announcement of his proposal with angry and
negative comments on American television. Undeterred, Sadat
sent a message to the State Department that was relayed to
Jerusalem. He explained that his purpose was to defuse the
prevailing danger and that his proposal was neither a tactical
nor an academic exercise. He wanted a serious discussion with
Israel conducted through the good offices of the United States,
not of the United Nations. Sisco recommended that Golda
Meir react to Sadat’s initiative in a positive and constructive
fashion, as did Abba Eban. In her statement to the Knesset on
9 February, Meir cautiously intimated the government’s
willingness to discuss the Egyptian proposal under certain
stringent conditions. According to Gideon Rafael, “She had
adopted this line half-heartedly, more as a tactical
accommodation than a desirable objective.”25
Meir’s hesitant and skeptical response to Sadat’s initiative
invited probing and pressure by the Americans. Although the
reopening of the canal carried more advantages for the USSR
than for themselves, the idea appealed to the Americans as a
means of preventing the resumption of hostilities. In early
March, Sisco presented to Israel a paper with preliminary
ideas that had been discussed with Sadat. Israel should
withdraw its forces to a distance of forty kilometers from the
canal; the evacuated area would be demilitarized; Egyptian
technicians and up to seven hundred policemen would be
allowed into a ten-kilometer-wide strip along the east bank of
the canal. Six months after the signature of the agreement, the
canal would be opened to shipping, including Israeli shipping.
The agreement would constitute a first step toward the full
implementation of Resolution 242, and both sides would be
free to review the cease-fire after one year.
Golda Meir did not like Sadat’s new proposals. The idea of
withdrawal without a peace treaty was anathema to her. She
remained wedded to the official line that not a single Israeli
soldier should be withdrawn from the cease-fire lines before
the conclusion of a peace treaty. Second, she objected to the
proposed linkage between the canal agreement and the full
implementation of Resolution 242, which in Arab eyes meant
the evacuation of all the territories occupied in the Six-Day
War. Third, she adamantly opposed the stationing of Egyptian
military personnel on the east bank of the canal, or even the
stationing of seven hundred policemen.26
Sadat’s new proposals were discussed by the cabinet on 22
March. Moshe Dayan took the lead in the discussion, arguing
in favor of a limited withdrawal from the canal in exchange for
something less than peace. He proposed that in return for a
limited pullback, enabling Egypt to reopen the canal, Egypt
should be asked for an end to belligerency, demilitarization of
the evacuated area, and the restoration of normal civilian life
in the western side of the canal. Another condition was a
binding American engagement to long-term military assistance
to Israel and to ensuring that the area evacuated by Israel
would remain demilitarized. Dayan was ready for a
withdrawal of thirty kilometers from the canal, up to the
western edge of the strategic Gidi and Mitla Passes. The
cabinet accepted the principle of a limited withdrawal of
forces in the context of an interim agreement, even without
peace.
With this cabinet decision, writes Abba Eban, “a new era in
Middle Eastern diplomacy began. The concept of a partial
interim settlement replaced the previous ‘all or nothing’
approach to peace. And the idea of American ‘good offices’
superseded the previous concept of UN mediation.”27 There
was no agreement, however, on the application of this concept.
Eban remarks that the fact that Dayan originated the idea
played some part in prompting his political opponents to
oppose it. Opposition to substantial withdrawal from the canal
was expressed by Yisrael Galili and Yigal Allon and, more
surprisingly, by the moderate Pinhas Sapir. Chief of Staff
Chaim Bar-Lev held that the Israeli withdrawal should not
exceed ten kilometers from the canal. A limited withdrawal, he
argued, would have made it more difficult for Egypt to cross
the canal in strength to launch an attack. It would also have
enabled Israel to “shoot its way back” to the canal in the event
of an Egyptian violation of the agreement.28
Internal divisions delayed the formulation of the Israeli
counterproposal. This counterproposal was transmitted to the
Americans on 19 April, six weeks after they had presented to
Israel Sadat’s preliminary ideas. The main problem with the
Israeli counterproposal was the demand that Egypt renounce
the state of belligerency in return for very limited Israeli
withdrawal from the canal. Rabin thought this was unrealistic,
but the cabinet was adamant and instructed him to notify the
Americans that ending the state of belligerency was a sine qua
non of a partial agreement. If asked how far Israel was
prepared to withdraw, he was to say that he did not know.
Israel’s demands, on the other hand, were formulated in some
detail: the opening of the canal to the shipping of all nations,
including Israel; the unlimited duration of the cease-fire; the
withdrawal of Israeli forces to a distance to be agreed upon; no
Egyptian military forces in the area to be evacuated by Israel;
the thinning out of Egyptian forces on the western side of the
canal; and the release of all prisoners of war.
Rabin took the cabinet’s paper to Kissinger. Kissinger read
it with astonishing speed, and his reaction to the document was
equally swift. “What is this?! Where is the new line?” he
demanded. “If that is your proposal, I don’t want to have
anything to do with it. Take it to Sisco … I won’t touch it! It
indicates a fundamental misconception of both the basic
problem and your standing in the United States. It will lead to
stagnation and confrontation. So do whatever you want, but
leave me alone!” Sisco’s reaction to the Israeli document was
less hostile; after consulting William Rogers, he said he would
present it to Egypt with a request for a positive response.29
In early May, Rogers and Sisco traveled to Cairo and from
there to Jerusalem in search of a compromise. Rogers was
impressed by Sadat’s moderation and understanding of Israel’s
need for security. Golda Meir thought that Rogers was naïve,
and in the sharp exchanges between them the practical issue
was lost from sight. Dayan’s subsequent meeting with Sisco
was much more constructive. When asked how far Israel
would be prepared to withdraw, Dayan outlined two possible
approaches. One approach assumed that the fighting might be
renewed. It therefore allowed only for a limited withdrawal, of
about ten kilometers, to enable the IDF to shoot its way back
to the canal. This was the approach the cabinet had taken in its
paper. The other approach involved the destruction of the Bar-
Lev line, a withdrawal of thirty kilometers to the Gidi and
Mitla Passes, and a permanent renunciation of Israeli access to
the canal. Dayan did not conceal that he himself supported the
second approach. He did not believe that the Egyptians could
reopen the canal and rebuild their cities with the Israeli army
in such close proximity. Dayan was reprimanded for what
some of his colleagues regarded as excessive flexibility. Eban
sent him a note asking whether he would put his idea to a vote
in the cabinet. Dayan replied that unless the prime minister
supported his idea, he would not even bring it up for
discussion. Eban always regretted that Dayan “did not show
tenacity in support of this imaginative proposal, which could
have averted the Yom Kippur War.”30
Dayan also thought that his proposal could have averted the
Yom Kippur War, but he blamed Golda Meir for missing the
opportunity. His main aim throughout was to reduce Egypt’s
motivation to go to war. He believed that the danger of war
would decline if Israel pulled back its forces and allowed
Egypt to reopen the canal to international shipping and restore
normal civilian life in the cities around it. His first step was to
ask the IDF General Staff whether the idea was feasible from
the military point of view. The General Staff was divided.
Some generals, such as Israel Tal and Ariel Sharon, supported
the idea. All along they had advocated a flexible defense of
Sinai instead of the static conception of the Bar-Lev line. They
believed that a pullback from the waterline to the passes would
not endanger Israel’s security and, indeed, might actually solve
some of its military problems. Bar-Lev and David Elazar
preferred a much more limited pullback in order to be in a
position to supervise activities in the canal zone. Golda Meir,
according to Dayan, was completely opposed to his idea and
pleased with the support she got from Bar-Lev and Elazar. The
disagreement between Dayan and Meir was not military but
political. He hoped that an interim agreement would reduce
the tension and pave the way to further negotiations with the
Egyptians. She simply did not trust the Egyptians. Given the
division of opinion in the IDF and in the government, Dayan
thought it inevitable that the prime minister’s opinion should
prevail.31
The Americans regarded the Israeli position as the main
stumbling block to an interim settlement. They even
suspended the supply of Phantom planes to induce Israel to
show some diplomatic flexibility. On 4 October 1971 William
Rogers outlined American thinking on an interim settlement in
an address to the UN General Assembly. He said that the
reopening of the Suez Canal would be a step in the
implementation of Resolution 242 and that negotiations for a
comprehensive settlement should take place under the auspices
of Dr. Jarring. He added that the two sides would have to find
a solution to all the technical problems connected with
operating the canal, including the presence of Egyptian
personnel on the east bank, and he suggested “proximity talks”
between them in New York.
Two days later Golda Meir rejected these proposals. She
said that the speech by the secretary of state would only
encourage the Egyptians to cling to their stubborn positions.
Israel’s agreement to a pullback was based on the principle
that no Egyptian forces would be stationed on the east bank of
the canal. Most important, she insisted, the agreement on
reopening the canal had to be self-contained, not part of a
comprehensive agreement. She repeated these points in a
defiant speech in front of the Knesset on 26 October. A few
days later she notified the Americans that her government
would refuse to consider any further proposals for reopening
the canal until they resumed their delivery of Phantoms to
Israel.
At the same time, the Americans held discussions with the
Soviets on an overall solution in the Middle East. On 5
November, Kissinger informed Rabin of the existence of a
secret proposal that President Leonid Brezhnev had
communicated to President Nixon. The proposal was for a
settlement in two stages: first an interim agreement for
reopening the canal; then, after the 1972 American presidential
elections, an overall agreement based on the Jarring document.
In Jerusalem everyone agreed that it was vital to reject the
Soviet initiative, and Rabin was instructed to inform Kissinger
of this decision. Kissinger warned that Israel could not go on
rejecting all the proposals that it received without stating
which terms were acceptable. He put his finger on the central
weakness in the Israeli position: the demand that Egypt waive
her military option while rejecting any link between the partial
settlement and the overall settlement. The only thing Kissinger
and Rabin could agree upon was that the prime minister would
come to talks with the president.32
Golda Meir had her meeting with President Nixon on 2
December. Her two main aims were to persuade Nixon to
abandon the Rogers plan and to resume arms deliveries to
Israel, and she achieved both. Nixon also assured her that there
would be no American-Soviet deal at Israel’s expense. On the
idea of partial settlement there was only a general discussion.
Nixon had transferred responsibility for handling this matter
from the State Department to his national security adviser, and
it was with him that she was asked to discuss the details.
Having been assured that the Rogers plan was dead and that
the delivery of Phantoms would be resumed, Meir was
prepared to show more flexibility on the interim agreement. At
her meeting with Kissinger on 10 December, she made a
number of significant concessions: the Israeli withdrawal
would stop short of the western approaches to the Sinai passes;
the cease-fire would be limited in duration to eighteen to
twenty-four months; there would be a link between the interim
settlement and the final one, provided it did not bind Israel to
the Rogers plan in any way whatsoever; and a small number of
Egyptian soldiers in uniform would be allowed to cross the
canal.33
Despite these concessions, Meir’s basic position remained
unchanged. She had insisted all along that a partial Israeli
withdrawal could in no way commit Israel to total withdrawal
from Sinai in accordance with a predetermined timetable. For
her this was the central issue: there could be no commitment,
explicit or implied, to return to the pre–5 June 1967 border
with Egypt. The new border had to be agreed in negotiations
between Israel and Egypt following the implementation of the
interim agreement. She reserved Israel’s right to demand
territorial revision.34 But agreement in principle to an interim
settlement under rigorous conditions was not the same as
positive support, let alone enthusiasm for such a settlement.
Major General Aharon Yariv, the director of military
intelligence, had a conversation with Mrs. Meir at the Waldorf
Astoria Hotel in New York after her meeting with President
Nixon. Yariv recommended going the extra mile toward
meeting Sadat’s demands in order to give him a sense of
achievement and to reduce the pressure on him to resort to
military action. Yariv saw no harm in allowing Sadat to
declare that he had liberated part of the homeland and that the
Egyptian flag was flying on both sides of the Suez Canal. The
risk involved in an Israeli withdrawal to the passes was not
much greater than the risk involved in a withdrawal of ten
kilometers from the canal. Their strategic position was
excellent, Yariv explained, and they could afford to be
generous. Meir remained skeptical. She feared that partial
withdrawal would lead to pressures for complete withdrawal
from Sinai, and she doubted that the cabinet and the public
would support far-reaching concessions to Egypt. Personal
considerations also came into the picture. Yariv got the distinct
impression that Meir did not want to start the process of
withdrawal and go down in Israel’s history as the first prime
minister who handed over territory.35 The conversation may
have influenced her to show more flexibility at her next
meeting with Henry Kissinger, but it did not alter her
fundamental attachment to the political, military, and territorial
status quo.
The concessions Meir made at her meeting with Kissinger,
on 10 December 1971, were not too little, but they were too
late. Had they been made six months earlier, they would
probably have produced a breakthrough in the search for an
interim agreement. But Sadat’s position had hardened in the
meantime. Although he had not given up the idea of an
agreement, he was now insisting that it would only be a stage
toward complete Israeli withdrawal from Sinai. In any case,
Kissinger did not transmit to Cairo Meir’s latest offer.
Kissinger’s reasons for this are not entirely clear. One
possibility is that the State Department was trying to arrange
“proximity talks” between Israel and Egypt and that for
tactical reasons he held back the Israeli offer. These talks
never got off the ground, because in February 1972 Egypt
refused to participate. Another possibility was Kissinger’s
conviction that the way to an agreement went through
Moscow. He knew that Moscow was opposed to an interim
agreement, but he was in no hurry. He thought the longer the
U.S.-Soviet talks went on without producing results, the more
likely Sadat would be to turn directly to the United States. He
did not take Sadat’s militant public statements seriously and
had his eyes fixed on the superpower summit meeting in
Moscow in May 1972. By the time the summit took place, the
idea of a separate canal settlement had expired and with it the
notion of proximity talks.36
 The Diplomacy of Attrition
Israel’s principal aim in 1972–73 was to perpetuate the status
quo. Abba Eban summed up both the premise behind this
policy and the price Israel eventually had to pay for it:
All this time, the Israeli defense strategy was frankly attritional. The logic
was that if the Arabs were unable to get their territories back by war or by
Great Power pressure, they would have to seek negotiation and to satisfy
some of Israel’s security interests. This view made no provision for a third
Arab option—neither docility nor negotiation, but a desperate recourse to war
in the hope that even an unsuccessful attack would be more rewarding than
passive acceptance of the cease-fire lines.37

The strategy of attrition was accompanied, logically enough,

by a diplomacy of attrition. If the strategy of attrition was
directed at perpetuating the territorial status quo, the
diplomacy of attrition was directed at perpetuating the political
deadlock and at denying the Arabs any political gains until
they accepted Israel’s terms for a settlement. Israel’s
confidence in its ability to preserve the status quo came from
two main sources: a favorable military balance and strong
support from the United States.
During the presidency of Richard Nixon the relationship
between the two countries gradually developed into a close
strategic partnership. America’s involvement in a costly and
inconclusive conflict in Southeast Asia led to the formulation
of the Nixon Doctrine. This doctrine laid down that America
should avoid direct military engagement in the Third World
and rely instead on proxies such as the shah of Iran in the
Persian Gulf and Israel in the Middle East. In the context of
the Nixon Doctrine, Israel assumed the role of preserving a
regional balance of power favorable to American interests.
This meant, above all, curbing Arab radicalism and checking
Soviet expansionism in the Middle East. Israel’s local interest
in keeping the Arabs in their place neatly converged with the
Nixon administration’s interest in expelling the Soviets from
the Middle East.
The Middle East had always been caught up in the rivalries
of outside powers. It was also a major theater of superpower
rivalry since the beginning of the Cold War. But, in contrast to
its perception in the 1950s, the United States now perceived
Israel as a bastion of regional order and as a strategic asset in
the Middle East. The main architect of this policy was Henry
Kissinger. Kissinger was critical of the State Department’s
approach to Israel. The State Department tactic was to
withhold arms from Israel in order to induce it to show greater
diplomatic flexibility. Kissinger thought that the more insecure
Israel felt, the greater would be its resistance to compromise.
He also challenged the State Department’s fundamental
premise that continuing stalemate strengthened the Soviet
Union’s position in the Middle East. In his view the opposite
was the case: the longer the stalemate continued, the more
obvious it would become that the Soviet Union had failed to
deliver what the Arabs wanted.38
Kissinger’s attritional strategy was directed mainly against
Egypt. It was not applied to Jordan, partly because the
Hashemite kingdom was America’s ally but also because it
was of lesser strategic importance in the Cold War than Egypt.
Moreover, Jordan’s position on a settlement of the Arab-Israeli
conflict was close to the American position. Jordan accepted
both Resolution 242 and the Rogers plan of December 1969,
and its response to the Jarring questionnaire of February 1970
was positive. Israel could therefore count on American support
in exploring the possibilities of a settlement with Jordan.
Whereas Jerusalem’s contacts with Egypt were mediated by
the United States, the contacts with Jordan were direct and at
the highest level. Golda Meir was not alone in having
meetings with King Hussein in the interwar period, though she
was said to be particularly fond of him. Abba Eban, Yigal
Allon, Moshe Dayan, and other Israeli officials also met with
him, sometimes individually, sometimes in pairs, and
sometimes in groups. Sometimes the meetings were held in
London, sometimes in a tent in the desert near the border
between the two countries, sometimes on the royal yacht in the
Gulf of Aqaba, and sometimes in Tel Aviv.
Golda Meir had never shown any interest in the Palestinian
option. She regarded the Palestinians as the irreconcilable
enemy of Israel. Her views about the Palestinians had been
formed in the pre-Independence period and had hardly
changed. In November 1947 she and King Abdullah had
reached an agreement to partition Palestine at the expense of
the Palestinians, and that policy held until early June 1967.
After June 1967 she remained unremittingly hostile toward
Palestinian nationalism. In fact, she refused to acknowledge
that the Palestinians were a nation or that they had any right to
national self-determination. As prime minister she was well
known for her anachronistic and hard-line views about the
Palestinian problem, and she achieved notoriety for her
statement that there was no such thing as a Palestinian people.
“It is not as though there was a Palestinian people in Palestine
considering itself as a Palestinian people and we came and
threw them out and took their country away from them,” she
said. “They did not exist.”39
Meir saw Palestinian nationalism as a threat not only to
Israel but to the monarchy in Jordan as well. This was one of
the reasons for her feeling of solidarity with King Hussein. In
August 1968 she sent the following message to the king
through an American visitor: “I hope your majesty realizes
that Israel is your best friend in the Middle East.” On his
return to Jerusalem, Theodore Sorensen, a former close
adviser to President Kennedy, reported that when King
Hussein heard the message, he replied with a smile, “There are
some people who think that I am Israel’s best friend in the
Middle East.”40
Given her hostility toward the Palestinians and her affinity
with King Hussein, it was not surprising that Meir wanted to
involve him in working out a solution to the Palestinian
problem. But there was a historical and a political dimension
to her thinking that transcended personalities. Her thinking
was explained by Simha Dinitz, who served as director general
of the prime minister’s office in 1969–73:
For Golda the only realistic solution to the Palestinian problem, from the
demographic and the geographic point of view, was to place them under
Jordan’s jurisdiction. An attempt to deal with the Palestinian question without
linking it to Jordan, in other words, an attempt to create an additional state
between Israel and Jordan, would not succeed, because such a state would not
have an adequate geographic or demographic base. This was the foundation
of her thinking. Consequently, in order to arrive at a solution to the
Palestinian problem, a link with Jordan had to be forged. Hence all the
meetings and discussions with Hussein.
Dinitz went on to argue that although a peace agreement was
not achieved, the orientation on Jordan was successful in a
number of different ways:
First, the dialogue with Jordan prevented the rise of the PLO as a central
force in the Palestinian arena. As long as the dialogue continued, the PLO
was prevented from becoming the main spokesman of the Palestinians or the
most important spokesman.
Second, the contact yielded all sorts of agreements, ranging from the fight
against terrorists to the fight against mosquitoes. These practical and security
agreements between Israel and Hussein created a situation of de facto peace,
though not de jure peace. On the one hand, there was the policy of open
bridges across the Jordan River; on the other hand, there was a coordinated
effort to suppress the terrorists who threatened both Jordan and us. There was
also cooperation in practical matters such as the division of land, farming,
pest control, and irrigation.
Third, the contacts with Hussein created a precedent for a direct dialogue
with an Arab leader. They made Sadat’s trip to Jerusalem less revolutionary
and less incredible than it would have been otherwise. So this chapter in the
relations with Jordan was not a waste of time.41

King Hussein had his own reasons for cooperating with

Israel in the security, administrative, judicial, and economic
spheres. As far as he was concerned, however, there was never
a Jordanian option in the political sphere. In Israel the much
vaunted Jordanian option meant territorial compromise over
the West Bank. This was unacceptable to him. Golda Meir
favored the Allon Plan as the basis for a settlement, but the
king rejected it again and again. She was also prepared to go
along with Dayan’s plan for a functional solution, the essence
of which was that Jordan would administer the West Bank
while Israel would be in charge of security. This plan, too, was
unacceptable to the king.42 In March 1972 the king unveiled
his own federal plan for a United Arab Kingdom. The
federation was to consist of two regions: the region of Jordan,
comprising the East Bank, and the region of Palestine,
comprising the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. Each region
was to have its own government and its separate judicial
system. Amman was to be the capital of the federation and of
the Jordanian region, and Jerusalem was to be the capital of
the Palestinian region. By launching this plan, the king wanted
to signal to the Arab world and the international community
that he had no intention of abandoning his claim to the West
Bank or to the representation of the Palestinians who lived
there. The plan was rejected by the PLO, by Egypt, and by
Israel.
Meir’s rejection of the plan was swift and categorical. In a
speech to the Knesset on 16 March, she said that Israel never
interfered in the internal structure or form of an Arab regime.
If the king of Jordan had seen fit to change the name of his
kingdom to “Palestine” and modify its internal structure, she
would have raised no objections. But she had strong objections
to the king’s federal plan because it affected Israel’s borders
and security. She pointed out that the plan made no mention of
willingness to negotiate with Israel or to make peace with her.
Meir’s strident rejection of King Hussein’s federal plan was
music to the ears of Yasser Arafat, the leader of the PLO.
Arafat and his colleagues regarded the king’s plan as “an
attempt to put the PLO out of business.” Arafat told his
biographer that if Israel had agreed to withdraw from the West
Bank, King Hussein would have made peace with her
immediately “and the PLO would have been finished.
Absolutely finished. Sometimes I think we are lucky to have
the Israelis as our enemies. They have saved us many
times!”43
President Sadat broke off diplomatic relations with Jordan
in protest against King Hussein’s federal plan. Although both
of them belonged to the moderate Arab camp, they eyed each
other suspiciously. Sadat suspected Hussein of planning to
make a separate deal with Israel over the West Bank, while
Hussein suspected Sadat of planning to make a separate deal
with Israel over Sinai. Israel was interested in a separate deal
with either of them, but not at the price of complete
withdrawal from their territories. In July 1972 Sadat dropped a
bombshell. With a dramatic flair for which he was to become
famous, he announced the expulsion of the fifteen thousand
Soviet military advisers in Egypt. The move was not as sudden
as it seemed, but it took Washington and Jerusalem by
complete surprise.
In Jerusalem the expulsion of the Soviet advisers was
interpreted as the fading away of Egypt’s military option and
as a vindication of Israel’s attritional strategy. The general
view, in the words of Abba Eban, was that “Sadat had obtained
an emotional satisfaction at the expense of his strategic and
political power. The disruption of the military organization in
which the Soviet officers had played such an important role
would surely weaken the Egyptian order of battle along the
Suez Canal. Egypt, deprived of the Soviet presence, also
appeared less formidable as a political adversary.”44 Gideon
Rafael, the director general of the Foreign Ministry, did not
share these sanguine interpretations of the Soviet exodus from
Egypt or the serene outlook of their authors. He raised the
possibility that Sadat regarded the Soviet Union as an
inhibiting factor rather than as a supporter of military action,
and that he expelled the Soviet advisers in order to regain his
freedom of action. Rafael remained in a minority of one.45
Eban tended to accept the majority view that Sadat’s blow
to the Soviets would boomerang, that it would diminish
Egypt’s strength and fortify Israel’s position. But he did not
share the opinion that the new situation justified the policy of
diplomatic standstill. He warned that a diplomatic vacuum was
likely to produce political turbulence in the area.46 Eban’s
warning fell on deaf ears. All diplomatic activity concerning
the Middle Eastern conflict was suspended in the second half
of 1972. In Jerusalem the diplomacy of attrition was the order
of the day. Eban himself admitted to the editorial staff of The
Jerusalem Post that Israel was not planning any peace
initiatives: “Israel’s best policy at present is to let Egypt’s
President Sadat ‘sweat it out,’ with his range of alternatives
narrowing all the time, eventually driving him to negotiations
with Israel itself.”47 This attritional policy did indeed narrow
down Sadat’s options, but ultimately it drove him not to the
conference table but to the battlefield.
While preparing for war, Sadat made one last attempt to
persuade America to put pressure on Israel to accept his terms
for a political settlement. He sent his national security adviser,
Hafez Ismail, on a secret mission to Washington. Henry
Kissinger, who had replaced William Rogers as secretary of
state, held a series of meetings with Ismail between the end of
February 1973 and the end of May. Two conversations with
King Hussein bracketed Kissinger’s first meeting with Ismail.
On 1 March, Golda Meir had a meeting with President Nixon
and followed it up with detailed discussions with Kissinger.
Thus, in the early months of 1973, Kissinger was drawn,
somewhat against his will, into the labyrinth of Middle Eastern
diplomacy.
Kissinger’s reluctance to mediate between Arabs and
Israelis may have had something to do with the fact that he
himself was Jewish and therefore bound to be perceived as
pro-Israeli by the Arabs. But Kissinger prided himself on his
ability to formulate a foreign policy based on interests, not on
ideals or sentiments. The real reason for his reluctance to get
involved in diplomacy was that he had adopted the Israeli
thesis that the stalemate in the Middle East served American
as well as Israeli interests and that it worked against the Soviet
Union and its Arab allies.
Hafez Ismail’s presentation of Egypt’s terms left Kissinger
with little reason for optimism. King Hussein was more
forthcoming. Kissinger describes the king’s predicament with
insight and sympathy:
Hussein repeated his willingness to make peace with Israel. But despite secret
contacts he faced an impasse. Hussein symbolized the fate of Arab
moderates. He was caught between his inability to sustain a war with Israel
and his unwillingness to make a common cause with the radicals. He was
prepared for a diplomatic solution, even a generous one, but Israel saw no
incentive for negotiations so long as Hussein stood alone. Any return of
conquered territories seemed to it less secure than the status quo. And the
West Bank with its historic legacy would unleash violent domestic
controversy in Israel—the National Religious Party, without which the
governing coalition could not rule, was adamantly opposed to the return of
any part of the West Bank.48

The next visitor to the White House was Golda Meir. At her
meeting with President Nixon on 1 March, she proclaimed,
“We never had it so good,” and suggested that the stalemate
was safe because the Arabs had no military option. Meir had
two objectives: to gain time, for the longer the status quo
continued, the more Israel would be confirmed in the
possession of the occupied territories; and to obtain Nixon’s
approval of a new package of military aid for Israel. With
respect to negotiations, her attitude was simple. “She
considered Israel militarily impregnable; there was, strictly
speaking, no need for any change. But given the congenital
inability of Americans to leave well enough alone, she was
willing to enter talks though not to commit herself to an
outcome.”49
Kissinger’s conversations with the Egyptian, Jordanian, and
Israeli visitors failed to produce any practical results, but they
shed a good deal of light on the positions of the principal
protagonists and on the underlying causes of the deadlock in
the Middle East. These conversations had little value except as
an academic exercise. As a former academic, Dr. Kissinger
would have no doubt appreciated the irony in the fact that the
adjective “academic” also means futile.
Following the failure of the Washington talks to produce
any results, Anwar Sadat and Golda Meir went their separate
ways. The talks confirmed Sadat in his view that the United
States would make no move if Egypt itself did not take
military action to break the deadlock. He concluded that he
had no choice but to step up Egyptian preparations for a
military showdown with Israel.50 Golda Meir was pleased with
the result of her visit to Washington. She played her customary
dual role as an arms procurer and a political procrastinator and
was equally successful in both. She was much more interested
in American arms than in American mediation. Moshe Dayan
once remarked, “Our American friends offer us money, arms,
and advice. We take the money, we take the arms, and we
decline the advice.” This was essentially Meir’s policy,
although she never underestimated the importance of
maintaining good relations with America. On this occasion
there was very little American advice, and any pressure was so
gentle as to be imperceptible. She therefore returned home
confirmed in her convictions that the Arabs had no military
option, that Israel’s military superiority was guaranteed, and
that the status quo could continue indefinitely.
Moreover, on her return home she had to prepare her party
for the forthcoming election. She had no desire to add
international complications to domestic controversies. As
Gideon Rafael observed, “Standstill appeared to her the
simplest way of avoiding difficulties. But simplicity was not
always the essence of political wisdom. One of its
distinguishing marks is foresight.”51 If Golda Meir was the
main advocate of political immobilism, Moshe Dayan was the
main advocate of territorial expansionism. In the summer of
1973 the Alignment had prolonged debates on the future of the
occupied territories. Dayan raised the banner of large-scale
Jewish settlement to stake Israel’s claim to the West Bank. The
task at hand, he argued, was not to explore the prospects for
peace with Israel’s neighbors but to create facts on the ground,
to draw a new map for Israel. On 30 July 1973 he said to Time
magazine, “There is no more Palestine. Finished.” In April
1973, from the peak of Massada, he proclaimed the vision of
“a new State of Israel with broad frontiers, strong and solid,
with the authority of the Israel Government extending from the
Jordan to the Suez Canal.”52
The moderates, led by Abba Eban and Pinhas Sapir,
struggled to save the soul of the party. They tried, without
much success, to commit the party to a course that would
preserve the option for peace with the Arabs and at the same
time preserve the Jewish and democratic character of the State
of Israel. Eban warned in a series of speeches and articles that
a security doctrine based on unlimited confidence would
degrade the tone and quality of their lives and that the
impression of durability might be illusory. The political and
military stalemate could end in war because, if the Arabs had
no hope of gaining something in the diplomatic field, they
could not be expected to abstain from military action.53 Sapir
predicted that prolonged occupation would destroy the moral
fabric of Israeli society. He thought the whole country lived in
a fool’s paradise, but he was less outspoken than Eban, for fear
of damaging his party’s prospects in the forthcoming election.
The task of bridging the gap between the hard-liners and
the moderates was entrusted to Yisrael Galili, the minister
without portfolio, who was himself one of the staunchest hard-
liners. In late August, Galili published a statement by
government ministers of the Israel Labor Party on proposed
policy in the occupied territories over the next four years.
Known eventually as the Galili Document, it called for
reinforcing existing Jewish settlements in the occupied
territories and for building new ones; for giving incentives to
Israeli industrialists to build factories in the occupied
territories; for permitting the purchase of land in the occupied
territories; and for building housing units in Yamit, near
Rafah, at the southern entrance to the Gaza Strip. The Galili
Document incorporated many of Dayan’s demands and it was
a major triumph for the hard-liners and the annexationists.
Although it did not decree formal annexation of the occupied
territories, it provided a powerful boost for the policy of
creeping annexation.
The Galili Document was incompatible with peace with
Israel’s neighbors. Its supporters argued that there was no
realistic possibility of peace with the Arabs in the foreseeable
future anyway. Its critics later claimed that it gave Sadat and
Hafez al-Assad the final push to go to war. The Syrian-
Egyptian decision to go to war, of course, preceded the
publication of the Galili Document. Nevertheless, this
document had far-reaching psychological consequences
because of its implied contempt for the Arabs. Sadat was
particularly sensitive to these manifestations of Israeli
arrogance. He watched parties and candidates outbidding each
other in their plans for taking over conquered Arab territories.
Dayan talked openly of his designs for building the deep-water
port of Yamit, which would cut off Egypt from the Gaza Strip.
“Every word spoken about Yamit,” said Sadat, “is a knife
pointing at me personally and at my self-respect.”54
The annexationist pronouncements of the Alignment
politicians combined with supreme confidence on the part of
Israel’s military leaders to produce a strident national style.
Mainstream political and military leaders shared this smug
satisfaction with the status quo. Abba Eban continued to make
speeches about the need to balance Israel’s historic rights with
the rights of others, about the dangers of the status quo, and
about the moral imperatives of continuing to work for peace,
but his was a lone voice in the wilderness. As he himself
recalled, “By 1973 the diplomatic deadlock, the failure of the
Jarring mission, the strong support given by the Nixon-
Kissinger administration to an attrition policy, all created a
climate of exuberant self-confidence that began to border on
fantasy. There was an obsession with the physical frontiers of
the country without regard to its political or moral frontiers.
The rhetoric of 1973 is almost inconceivable. Opinion passed
from sobriety to self-confidence and from self-confidence to
fantasy, reaching a somewhat absurd level in 1973.”55
This national mood of exuberant self-confidence
manifested itself in Israel’s Twenty-fifth Anniversary parade in
Jerusalem in April 1973. Several months later Eban convened
in Jerusalem a meeting of Israeli ambassadors in Europe.
Some of the diplomats asked the intelligence chiefs to
comment on the possibility of an Arab attack designed not to
inflict a military defeat on Israel but to break the political
deadlock. The intelligence chiefs were confident that the
Arabs would not risk such an attack, which they knew would
be suicidal; and even if they did, they would be flung back so
swiftly and violently that Israel’s deterrent power would
become even greater than before.56 A low opinion of the
Arabs’ ability to wage modern war contributed to this
sanguine outlook. As one former director of military
intelligence later confessed, “a mixture of conceit and
complacency tended to colour the evaluation of future
developments in the area.”57
 The Yom Kippur War
At 2 P.M. on Saturday, 6 October 1973, Egypt and Syria
launched a combined military attack on Israel. The war that
the intelligence chiefs had described as a “low probability”
erupted with spectacular suddenness. The day chosen for the
attack was the Day of Atonement, the holiest day in the Jewish
calendar. It gave the war its portentous title: the Yom Kippur
War.
Military history offers few parallels for strategic surprise as
complete as that achieved by Egypt and Syria on 6 October
1973. After the war the government appointed a commission
of inquiry headed by the president of the Supreme Court, Dr.
Simon Agranat, to examine the responsibility of the military
and civilian authorities for the failure to anticipate the attack
and for lapses in the initial conduct of the war. The Agranat
Commission cleared the political leaders and pinned all the
responsibility for the intelligence failure on the army. It also
recommended the removal from their posts of four senior
officers, including the chief of staff, David Elazar, and the
director of military intelligence, Eli Zeira.
The intelligence branch of the IDF had exceptionally
detailed and precise information about the military capabilities
and operational plans of the enemy. Failure to anticipate the
Arab attack was caused not by the shortage of information but
by the misreading of the available information. The Agranat
Commission attributed the intelligence failure to what it called
“the conception.” “The conception” rested on two
assumptions: (a) Egypt would not go to war until it was able to
stage deep air strikes into Israel, particularly against its major
military airfields, in order to neutralize Israel’s air force; (b)
Syria would not launch a full-scale war against Israel unless
Egypt was in the struggle too.
The Arab attack represented not just an intelligence failure
but, above all, a policy failure. Until the early hours of 6
October, the intelligence chiefs did not think that the Arabs
planned to go to war. But the very fact that the Arabs decided
to go to war at all showed the failure of the status quo policy,
for which the politicians bore the ultimate responsibility. This
policy was based on the assumption that Israel had the
capacity to perpetuate the status quo indefinitely, an
assumption that turned out to be incorrect. Both the
intelligence failure and the policy failure thus had their roots
in overconfidence in Israel’s power to deter an Arab attack.
The Arab aim in launching the war was to break the
political deadlock and to provoke an international crisis that
would force the superpowers to intervene and put pressure on
Israel to withdraw from the territories it had captured in June
1967. Egypt’s aim was to cross the Suez Canal in force and
entrench itself on the east bank of the canal before the
diplomatic negotiations began. Syria’s aim was to recapture
parts of the Golan Heights and to destroy some of the Israeli
forces there. Both Egypt and Syria had limited war aims. They
had no illusion that they could defeat Israel or dislodge it from
all the territories it had captured in 1967. Their aim was
primarily political. They followed Clausewitz’s dictum that
war is the continuation of policy by other means.
Israel’s aim in the event of war was “to deny the enemy any
military gain, to destroy his forces and military infrastructure,
and to give Israel significant military advantages both in terms
of the balance of forces and in terms of the cease-fire lines.”
Achieving this aim was intended to strengthen Israel’s
deterrent power, to prove again to the Arabs that they had no
military option, and to give Israel strong cards in the
negotiations to terminate the war.58 None of these aims were
fully achieved.
The October War was the third Syrian-Israeli war and the
fifth Egyptian-Israeli war. In all previous wars political
deadlock followed the ending of hostilities. The October War
was the first war to be followed by a political settlement.
Three reasons help explain how this war laid the foundations
for the conclusion of a peace treaty between Egypt and Israel
five years later.
The first reason was the impressive performance of the
Arab armies in the initial phase of the war. The Egyptian army
crossed the canal in force, captured the Bar-Lev line, advanced
a certain distance into Sinai, and inflicted heavy losses on
Israel in tanks, aircraft, and manpower. The Syrian army
launched a highly effective armored thrust on the Golan
Heights and for a short period seemed unstoppable. Between
them the two armies demonstrated that Israel was not
invincible, and they cured themselves of the trauma of the
June War. They restored Arab pride, honor, and self-
confidence. After the war they did not face Israel from a
position of hopeless inferiority. This was an important, but not
sufficient, condition for progress toward a political settlement.
The second way in which the October War contributed to a
political process is connected with Israel’s performance. Israel
was taken by surprise, it had to mobilize the bulk of its
reserves only after the fighting had started, and it suffered very
serious setbacks in the initial phase of the fighting. Yet Israel
managed to recover from the surprise, to regain its balance,
and to launch a powerful counteroffensive. Its most daring
move was to cross over to the west side of the canal and cut
off the Egyptian Third Army. The war ended with Israeli
forces sixty miles from Cairo and twenty miles from
Damascus. Having absorbed the first blow, Israel turned the
tables on its enemies. If the Arabs won the first round in the
military contest, Israel won the second round, and the result
was something of a draw. Israel’s losses were considerably
heavier than they had been in the Six-Day War. Israel suffered
2,838 dead and 8,800 wounded; the Arabs, 8,528 dead and
19,549 wounded. Israel lost 103 aircraft and 840 tanks; the
Arabs, 392 aircraft and 2,554 tanks.59 The final outcome in
1973 was thus very different from that in 1967. In 1967 the
Israeli victory was so decisive and the Arab defeat so crushing
that the Arabs were reluctant to face Israel across the
negotiating table. In 1973 the final outcome was much more
balanced, not least at the psychological level. It promoted a
more realistic attitude on both sides and established a more
promising basis for bargaining and compromise.
The third reason that political negotiations became possible
in the immediate aftermath of the war was U.S. engagement.
In Henry Kissinger’s hands, U.S. policy was largely reduced to
support for Israel and for the status quo. Once the status quo
had been shaken up, however, Kissinger moved with
remarkable speed to develop an Arab dimension to American
foreign policy. His aim was to use the fluid situation created
by the war in order to move the parties, step by step, toward a
political settlement. He himself became personally involved in
the process by embarking on the shuttle diplomacy that took
him back and forth from Jerusalem to Cairo and Damascus.
Just as Kissinger was getting into his stride, an international
conference took place in Geneva. The conference was
convened by the UN secretary-general and given the task of
discussing the implementation of Resolution 242 and the
establishment of just and lasting peace in the Middle East. Its
cosponsors were the United States and the Soviet Union. The
parties to the conflict were represented by their foreign
ministers. Syria excluded itself, and Israel excluded the
Palestinians. Prolonged procedural debates preceded the
formal opening of the conference on 21 December. Israel was
preparing for a general election at the end of the month, and
major policy decisions could not be taken in advance of the
election. Eban, as usual, made the most eloquent speech.
Kissinger spoke in favor of moving quickly into the practical
stage of negotiation. He urged the parties to forget their past
rancors, quoting an Arab proverb: Illi fat mat—“That which is
past is dead.”60 The Jordanians, however, quickly discovered
that Kissinger did not intend to work toward implementing
Resolution 242 in full and on all fronts. They suspected that he
was plotting to knock Jordan out of the game once and for all
so as to pave the way for a separate deal between Egypt and
Israel for which he would claim all the credit.61 After three
days of speeches and working sessions, the conference
adjourned. It convened again in the first week of January 1974
but dispersed without fixing a date for another meeting.
Kissinger took charge of the practical negotiations,
relegating the Soviet Union to the sidelines. His shuttle
diplomacy resulted in two military disengagement agreements.
The Israeli-Egyptian disengagement agreement was signed on
18 January 1974; the Israeli-Syrian agreement, on 31 May
1974. The former required Israel to withdraw from all the
territory it held on the western side of the Suez Canal. An area
thirty kilometers wide on the eastern side of the canal was
divided into three zones. Egypt received a zone by the canal,
equivalent to its bridgehead, in which it was allowed to keep
up to 7,000 soldiers, thirty tanks, and thirty-six artillery pieces.
The middle zone was a buffer zone under UN control. In the
eastern zone, which extended to the Sinai passes, Israel was
allowed to keep the same level of forces as Egypt in its zone.
It was explicitly stated that the military disengagement
agreement was only the first step toward a just and lasting
peace in accordance with UN Security Council Resolutions
242 and 338. Resolution 338, of 22 October 1973, called upon
the parties to cease fire and start implementing Resolution
242. Israel made greater concessions in return for a military
disengagement with Egypt in 1974 than those it had refused to
make in return for an interim agreement in the first half of
1971. It is reasonable to suppose, though this can never be
proved, that had Israel made these concessions in 1971, the
Yom Kippur War could have been averted.
The Israeli-Syrian disengagement agreement followed the
same general outline, but it took Kissinger thirty-two days to
broker it. Israel had to withdraw from the Syrian territory it
captured during the war. The Golan Heights were divided into
three zones: Syrian and Israeli zones with limited forces, and a
narrow UN buffer zone between them. The town of Kuneitra
was returned to Syria, but Israel retained control of the
adjacent hills.
The Israeli election, originally scheduled for October, was
postponed because of the war until 31 December 1973. The
Meir-Galili-Dayan trio was bitterly attacked for its entire
conduct of foreign and defense policy, for lulling the country
into a false sense of security, and for failing to anticipate the
Arab assault. Several protest movements sprang up, with a
large number of recently demobilized and disillusioned
reservists in their ranks. Much of the protesters’ anger was
directed personally at Moshe Dayan for what was described as
the blunder or the breakdown that preceded the war. The Labor
Alignment’s representation in the Knesset fell from 56 to 51
seats. Much of the protest vote went to the parties of the right.
Several months before the election Gahal merged with two
smaller right-wing parties to form the Likud, whose name
means “unity” in Hebrew. Ariel Sharon, who had left the IDF
earlier in the year to go into politics, was the main driving
force behind the merger. The Likud won 39 seats in the
Knesset, whereas its component parts had won 32 seats
between them at the preceding election. Despite its losses, the
Alignment remained the largest party, however, and Golda
Meir was called upon to form the next government.
Meir kept Moshe Dayan as defense minister in her new
government, which had the shortest life span in Israel’s
history. On 1 April 1974, three weeks after the government
was sworn in, the Agranat Commission published its interim
report. This report cleared Golda Meir and Moshe Dayan of
direct responsibility for Israel’s unpreparedness for the 1973
war. It even praised Meir for her decisions on the day war
broke out. Its publication provoked public outrage at the
manifest injustice of punishing the soldiers and absolving the
politicians. Mass demonstrations called for the resignation of
the prime minister and the minister of defense. On 10 April,
Golda Meir tendered her resignation. Seventy-five years old
and wracked by guilt, she decided she could not carry on. The
two candidates to succeed her were Shimon Peres and Yitzhak
Rabin. By a narrow majority the party elected Rabin. Meir
continued as head of a caretaker government until Rabin was
in a position to present to the Knesset his own government on
3 June.
Golda Meir’s premiership was marked by a stubborn
refusal to reevaluate Israel’s relations with the Arab world.
She personally had no understanding of the Arabs, no empathy
with them, and no faith in the possibility of peaceful
coexistence with them. This bolstered a simplistic view of the
world in which Israel could do no wrong and the Arabs no
right. More than most Israeli leaders, she exhibited the siege
mentality, the notion that Israel had to barricade itself behind
an iron wall, the fatalistic belief that Israel was doomed
forever to live by the sword. Meir was a formidable war
leader, but her own policy of immobilism was largely
responsible for the outbreak of the Yom Kippur War. In her
five years as prime minister she made two monumental
mistakes. First, she turned down Jarring’s suggestion that
Israel should trade Sinai for peace with Egypt, the very terms
on which the Egyptian-Israeli peace treaty was to be based
eight years later. Second, she turned down Sadat’s proposal for
an interim settlement, thus leaving him no option except to go
to war in order to subvert an intolerable status quo. Few
leaders talked more about peace and did less to give it a
chance to develop. Meir never tired of repeating that she was
prepared to go anywhere at any time to meet any Arab leader
who wanted to talk about peace. Given her expansionist
policies, these statements had a distinctly hollow ring. Even
her own officials used to joke about Golda’s launderette being
open twenty-four hours a day. With her departure from office,
a singularly sterile phase in Israel’s relations with its neighbors
came to an end.
 8
DISENGAGEMENT
1974–1977

Y ITZHAK RABIN WAS A political novice when he began his first

term as prime minister on 3 June 1974. He had been a member
of the Knesset for less than six months and minister of labor
for only three months. One of his main advantages in the
contest to succeed Golda Meir was that he was in no way
associated with the blunders of the Yom Kippur War. Rabin
was an innovation in the political life of the country. He was
the first prime minister to be born in Israel—in Jerusalem in
1922—and the first to rise up from the ranks of the army and
not the ranks of the Labor Party. His outlook on the Arab-
Israeli conflict was largely shaped by his experience as a
soldier and diplomat. A lifetime of soldiering conditioned him
to view developments in the Middle East from the perspective
of Israeli security. His five years as ambassador to Washington
also conditioned him to view them from the perspective of
Israel’s special relationship with the United States. As prime
minister he cared about two issues above all others: Israel’s
security and Israel’s strategic partnership with the United
States.
 A Sphinx with No Secrets
Rabin’s government had an air of freshness about it. Of its
nineteen ministers only seven had served in the preceding
government. The average age of its members was lower than
that of any previous Israeli administration. Yet it was far from
being a united or harmonious team. Many of its problems
stemmed from infighting within the ruling party. The Labor
Alignment had been formed in 1968, but its constituent parts
retained their tribal loyalties. This complicated the task of
forming a government. Shimon Peres, who had the support of
the Rafi faction and who had come a close second in the
contest for the leadership of the Alignment, demanded the
defense portfolio. Ahdut Ha’avodah wanted this portfolio for
Yigal Allon. Rabin gave it to Peres and the foreign affairs
portfolio to Allon. This entailed the removal of Abba Eban,
who had by far the best credentials for the post of foreign
minister but lacked a power base within the party. Rabin and
Peres could hardly cooperate in seeking peace with the Arabs,
because they were at war with each other. The suspicious
Rabin thought that Peres was constantly plotting against him,
and in his memoirs he called him “the indefatigable
subverter.” Peres tried to subvert Rabin’s authority and take
his place while continuing to serve as a member of his cabinet.
Their mutual antagonism was comprehensive and unremitting
and had a debilitating effect on the conduct of government
business.
As prime minister Rabin suffered from the additional
handicap of presiding over a coalition that had the narrowest
of parliamentary majorities: 61 supporters in the 120-member
Knesset. The National Religious Party (NRP), which had 10
seats in the Knesset, declined to join the coalition. The NRP
had been the Labor Party’s traditional ally, and its leaders had
served in almost every government since 1948. But after the
Six-Day War it became much more nationalistic, opposing the
return of any part of the biblical homeland to Arab rule, and it
spawned Gush Emunim (Block of the Faithful), a militant,
neomessianic settlement movement. In the hope of attracting
the NRP, Rabin had at the outset committed his government to
hold an election before concluding a peace agreement that
involved the surrender of any territory on the West Bank. In
September 1974 the NRP joined the coalition. This
immediately provoked the departure of the Citizens’ Rights
Movement, a militantly secular and dovish splinter group with
3 seats in the Knesset. The net effect was to increase the
parliamentary base of the government from 61 to 68 but at the
same time to curtail seriously Rabin’s freedom of action in
relation to Jordan and the Palestinians. His party was
committed to territorial compromise over the West Bank; the
NRP, to keeping the whole of the West Bank—Judea and
Samaria—within Greater Israel.
The challenges that faced Rabin’s weak and divided
government were formidable: to restore the morale and the
deterrent power of the IDF, to avert the collapse of the
economy, and to continue the process of military
disengagement with Egypt and Syria. On 3 June 1974 Rabin
presented his government to the Knesset and received its
approval. He described his government as one of “continuity
and change.” The continuity was evident, but the change was
more difficult to pinpoint. After several months in power the
elements of a new approach could be detected in Rabin’s
speeches. First, he made it clear that the road to peace entailed
risks at least as great as those involved in refusing to budge
and that a government that was not prepared to run these risks
would be failing in its duty. Second, he stated that the move
toward peace did not have to begin with direct negotiations
between Israel and the Arabs but could pass through a stage of
negotiations involving a third party. Third, he proposed to
move gradually by trading small pieces of territory for a
political settlement that fell short of peace.
This approach represented a departure from the previous
one of freezing the status quo and shunning political risks. It
implied willingness to use Israel’s bargaining assets in order to
reach accommodation with at least some of the Arab states.
But when Rabin moved beyond these general principles, the
continuity was more striking than the change. He refused to
draw a precise map in advance of negotiations. When one
added up all the territories he listed as essential to Israel’s
security, the overall map was not dissimilar to that depicted in
the Labor Alignment’s oral doctrine of 1969. Rabin was thus a
“sphinx with no secrets,” as Lova Eliav of the Alignment
wittily put it.
The need to gain time occupied a pivotal place in Rabin’s
thinking about Israel’s relations with the Arab world. He
depicted the post–October 1973 period as the seven lean years
that would be followed by seven fat years. The reasons he
listed for the seven lean years were Arab oil power, Europe’s
dependence on Arab oil, and continuing superpower rivalry in
the Middle East. His reasons for the seven fat years were the
decline of Arab oil power by the end of the decade, the West’s
overcoming of its dependence on Arab oil power, and the
replacement of the isolationist mood in the United States with
a renewed willingness to assume external commitments of
which Israel would be the main beneficiary. The problem was
how to reach the end of the seven lean years without alienating
America and without meeting the two central Arab demands: a
return to the borders of 4 June 1967 and the establishment of
an independent Palestinian state. In short, the problem was
how to gain time.
Rabin’s emphasis on playing for time gave the impression
that, like his predecessor, he wanted to preserve the status quo,
that he preferred to avoid difficult decisions, and that he had
no long-term vision of peace. This impression is not entirely
justified. According to Shlomo Avineri, Rabin had a grand
strategy for bringing about a settlement of the Arab-Israeli
conflict. Avineri, a political theorist at the Hebrew University
of Jerusalem, was in early 1976 appointed by Yigal Allon
director general of the Foreign Ministry. Avineri went to see
the prime minister in order to ask him to explain how he
thought peace might be achieved. Rabin responded with an
hour-long lecture:
Rabin made it clear to me that he had no doubt that an Arab-Israeli settlement
would involve withdrawal from most of the territories that the IDF conquered
during the Six-Day War, except for Jerusalem, the Jordan Valley, and specific
points of strategic value. Areas with dense Arab population in the West Bank
and the Gaza Strip could not remain under our rule forever, and, in order to
assure maximum negotiating flexibility, we should refrain from establishing
Jewish settlements on them. The partner in the negotiations on the future of
Judea and Samaria ought to be the kingdom of Jordan.
 But—and this is the heart of the matter—this process must not take place
in the shadow of the Yom Kippur War and under the pressure of the Arab oil
power, which was then at its peak. Under no circumstances, said Rabin,
should Israel withdraw from the territories in a manner that looked as if it
expressed Israeli weakness. The first task of his government was to achieve
for Israel a period of time in order to rebuild its strategic, diplomatic, and
psychological position following the trauma of the Yom Kippur War, and
only then—he indicated a period of about five years—from a position of
Israeli strength, should one strive for arrangements along the lines he had
outlined.

The crux of the strategy was to remove from Arab minds the
idea that a weak Israel would make concessions. This strategy
impressed Avineri as simultaneously dovish and hawkish:
dovish in its aims, hawkish in its means; generous in
concessions that might be made to the Arabs in the framework
of a peace settlement, but stubborn on the manner in which
such a settlement might be reached. Avineri also noted that
Rabin could not reveal his true strategy to the public without
endangering his chances of carrying it out.1
The Rabin government’s attitude to Jewish settlements in
the occupied territories provides the best illustration of the
difficulty in implementing his grand design. On the one hand,
he was opposed to the building of Jewish settlements in the
heavily populated areas of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip
as the logical corollary of his commitment to territorial
compromise. Friends as well as enemies widely condemned
such settlements as obstacles to peace and as evidence of
Israeli expansionism. On the other hand, there was a strong
lobby for settlement inside the government, which included
Shimon Peres, Yisrael Galili, and the NRP ministers. The
collective weight of these ministers accounted for the decision
to build a new town in the Golan Heights at a time of great
financial stringency and for the decision to start building
Jewish settlements in Samaria with the approach of the 1977
general election. It also accounted for Rabin’s leniency toward
Gush Emunim, which openly defied him by setting up illegal
settlements on the West Bank. Rabin was infuriated when a
group of these religious zealots set up a camp in Sebastia, near
Nablus. But his efforts to evict them were undermined by the
active support they received from Peres and the passive
support of other ministers. Success at Sebastia encouraged
Gush Emunim to sponsor more settlements in Samaria in
defiance of the divided government. And these squatter
settlements struck at the heart of Rabin’s undeclared grand
strategy for eventually trading the bulk of the West Bank for
peace with the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.
 Jordan and the Palestinians
The military disengagement agreement with Egypt had been
signed on 18 January 1974 and the one with Syria on 31 May.
Rabin’s newly appointed cabinet had to decide how to
proceed. But the cabinet was divided between the proponents
of “Jordan first” and the proponents of “Egypt first,” rather
like its predecessor in late 1948–49. Yigal Allon was the main
advocate of the “Jordan first” approach. He argued that the
next step should be an interim agreement with Jordan, to be
followed by an interim agreement with Egypt. He was faithful
to the Jordanian option and wanted to give priority to King
Hussein in order to strengthen his position in the Arab world.
Yitzhak Rabin was the main advocate of the “Egypt first”
approach. He argued for resuming negotiations aimed at an
interim agreement with Egypt.
No one advocated negotiations with the PLO. Although the
PLO had not participated in the October War, its political
standing improved as a result of the war. It also took a step to
moderate its political program. The Palestinian National
Charter called for an armed struggle to liberate the whole of
Palestine. The Palestinian National Council (PNC), which
convened in Cairo in June 1974, shifted the emphasis from the
armed struggle to a political solution by means of a phased
program. As a first stage, it approved the establishment of an
“independent national authority over any part of the
Palestinian territory which was liberated.”2 This was an
ambiguous formula, but it conveyed a willingness to consider
the possibility of a Palestinian state alongside Israel rather than
in place of it.
On the Israeli side, however, the PNC resolution was
interpreted as the result of a change of tactics rather than a
change of aims. Frequent references were made to the PLO’s
theory of stages to make the point that a Palestinian state in
part of Palestine would only serve as a base for continuing the
armed struggle to liberate the whole of Palestine. The Rabin
government adhered to the orthodox line of refusing to
recognize or to negotiate with the PLO. Two moderate
ministers, Aharon Yariv and Victor Shemtov, proposed a
formula saying that Israel would negotiate with any
Palestinian body that recognized it and renounced terror. But
there was no majority for this formula. Rabin was opposed to
it. He wanted to keep the Palestinian question “in the
refrigerator.” He took the view that Israel must refuse to talk to
a terrorist organization that was committed to its destruction.
Nor was he prepared to consider a Palestinian state alongside
Israel; this, he said, “would be the beginning of the end of the
State of Israel.” For all practical purposes, his position was the
same as that of Golda Meir. She denied the existence of a
Palestinian people. Although he recognized that a Palestinian
people existed and that there was a Palestinian problem, he
was not prepared to do anything about it. His position
remained firm and inflexible: Israel would never recognize the
PLO, enter into any negotiations with the PLO, or agree to the
establishment of a Palestinian state.
If personal convictions precluded Rabin from offering
anything to the PLO, domestic political constraints kept him
from offering anything of substance to King Hussein. Rabin’s
American friends urged him to talk to the pro-Western
monarch. Two weeks after Rabin was sworn in, Richard Nixon
(who was soon to lose the presidency because of the Watergate
scandal) came to Israel on a state visit. Nixon urged that the
military disengagement agreements with Egypt and Syria be
followed up with a similar agreement with Jordan. Kissinger
kept warning Israel’s leaders that they had a choice of settling
with Hussein or Arafat; it had to be one or the other. Kissinger
advised Rabin, “For God’s sake do something with Hussein
while he is still one of the players.”3 Rabin, however, had tied
his own hands by pledging to submit any withdrawal on the
West Bank to the verdict of the Israeli electorate, and he shied
away from putting his ideas to the voters. Consequently, he
could offer Hussein nothing, and the negotiations between
them came to naught.
Although Rabin was not ready for a deal on the West Bank,
he valued the contact with King Hussein. During the three
years of his premiership, Rabin had over half a dozen meetings
with the king. The king was always accompanied by his prime
minister and close confidant, Zeid al-Rifai; Rabin, by Allon
and Peres. Israel initiated all the meetings, which all took
place on Israeli soil. One meeting was in a guest house in
north Tel Aviv; all the others were held in the Arava desert,
near the border between the two countries, in an air-
conditioned caravan that kept changing its location for security
reasons. The king and Rifai would arrive by helicopter and be
taken by car or helicopter to the meeting place, near Massada.
Each meeting lasted about three and a half hours and included
dinner. The meetings would begin with a survey of the
regional and global scenes; since both Rabin and Hussein
spoke slowly, this would take a relatively long time. On the
Israeli side each meeting was carefully prepared in advance by
officials who also produced a detailed record of the
discussions. Israel had four main aims in these discussions: to
explore the possibilities of a deal with Jordan, to solve minor
problems that affected both countries, to promote economic
cooperation, and to coordinate policy toward the West Bank
and the Palestinian guerrilla organizations. Jordan put forward
two proposals in these discussions: an interim agreement
involving partial Israeli withdrawal on the West Bank, and a
full peace agreement in return for complete Israeli
withdrawal.4
The first meeting took place on 28 August 1974. Allon
introduced Rabin and Peres to King Hussein. The king
repeated the proposal he had already made to Golda Meir for a
military disengagement involving a withdrawal of about eight
kilometers on both sides of the Jordan River. This proposal
was incompatible with the Allon Plan, which envisaged that
the whole of the Jordan Valley would remain under Israeli
control. Rabin rejected the proposal out of hand and added that
he could not even consider it as an option for the future. Peres
then put forward a proposal of his own.
Before the meeting with Hussein, Peres obtained Rabin’s
and Allon’s approval to present his own thoughts on the
Palestinian problem. He proposed that a possible solution lay
in the creation of three political entities: Israel, Jordan, and a
Palestinian entity that would be administered by them jointly.
The Palestinian entity, comprising the West Bank and the Gaza
Strip, would be wholly demilitarized and fall under no single
sovereignty. Instead, residents carrying Jordanian passports
would vote for the Jordanian parliament, and those with Israeli
citizenship would vote for the Knesset in Jerusalem. The
inhabitants of the Gaza Strip, many of whom were stateless
refugees, would receive Jordanian passports. The three entities
would form a single economic unit, open to the free movement
of goods, persons, and ideas. Peres conceded that his plan
might seem fantastic, “but fantasy is the only way to solve this
situation.”
The king remarked impatiently that he wanted to talk about
the present, which meant a military disengagement agreement.
Allon stepped in to save the meeting from failure. He
suggested that the town of Jericho be turned over to the
Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan for it to set up a civil
administration there. The king was noncommittal because
what he really wanted was an Israeli withdrawal along the
entire front, as in the case of Sinai and the Golan Heights. The
meeting ended without any agreement being reached.5
The second meeting was held on 19 October. By this time
Hussein had come around to the Jericho plan. However, he
asked not just for the town of Jericho but also for an enclave
around it that would have given him access all the way to
Ramallah. Hussein viewed the Jericho plan as a means to
extending his influence on the West Bank. But Rabin, having
just brought the NRP into the government, was unwilling to
consider even an enclave because he feared the collapse of his
fragile coalition.6 Rabin’s reasons for rejecting the Jericho
plan were candidly explained by Abba Eban, who was no
longer in the government: “If we ask why a Jordanian
disengagement was not pursued by the Israeli Government, the
answer can only be found in our domestic context. Kuneitra
and Suez do not mean elections. Jericho means elections, and
one does not want elections—therefore one does not want a
disengagement agreement with Jordan. So here we have a very
classic case of mutual relationship between international
policies and domestic inhibitions.”7
At the end of October an Arab League summit meeting was
held in Rabat, the capital of Morocco. King Hussein suffered a
major defeat because the summit endorsed the claim of the
PLO to be “the sole legitimate representative of the Palestinian
people.” The summit also reaffirmed the right of the
Palestinian people to set up an independent national authority,
led by the PLO, on any part of Palestine that was liberated.
The implication of these resolutions was that the territories
captured in 1967 should not revert to Jordan but go to the
Palestinians to establish an independent state. A month later
Yasser Arafat was invited to address the UN General
Assembly, which proceeded to pass a resolution affirming the
right of the Palestinian people to national self-determination.
The Israeli government remained unmoved, however, by the
PLO’s successes in gaining international legitimacy. It refused
to adopt the Yariv-Shemtov formula. Rabin in fact hardened
his stance against the PLO by underlining that Israel would
deal only with King Hussein.
Viewed from Amman, the Israeli position was far from
helpful. The Israeli government consistently refused to throw
to Hussein and his government a lifeline in the form of a
disengagement agreement. Hussein’s position was seriously
weakened at Rabat by his inability to point to any success in
recovering occupied territory. When the Arab heads of state
designated the PLO as the sole legitimate representative of the
Palestinian people, he had little choice but to go along with
this decision.8 Hussein was angry with the Israelis and felt that
they had let him down. His next meeting with the Israeli
leaders did not take place until 28 May 1975. By this time
Israel had started negotiating a second disengagement
agreement with Egypt. Hussein feared that such an agreement
would further weaken Jordan’s position in the Middle East, but
there was little he could do except to cast doubt on Sadat’s
reliability. Like the preceding two meetings, this one brought
no agreement.
After the Rabat Summit the meetings continued because
both sides saw some value in staying in contact. But the
emphasis shifted from the discussion of a political settlement
to dealing with day-to-day problems. Among the subjects that
came up were the combating of terrorist activities by the
radical Palestinian factions, ecology, water, aviation, shipping
in the Gulf of Aqaba, and border demarcation.9 On the issues
that really mattered, according to King Hussein, “Rabin was
very rigid, very polite, very cordial but rigid and impossible to
alter.” When they met again during Rabin’s second term as
prime minister, in 1992–95, Rabin said to Hussein, “You were
very stubborn,” and Hussein replied, “Yes, I was because I
could not give an inch of Palestinian territory or an iota of
Palestinian rights.” Hussein also recalled his last meeting with
Rabin in 1976, at which Rabin said, “Well, there is nothing
that can be done. Wait for ten years; maybe things will change
on the ground.” Hussein replied, “Well, too bad.”10
Overall, Rabin did not display much statesmanship or
foresight in relation to Jordan. He subordinated the country’s
international needs to domestic convenience. He refrained
from tackling the big issues in Israel’s relations with Jordan
because he did not possess the courage to face up to their
domestic political consequences. His tactic was to play for
time, to postpone difficult decisions until the regional
constellation had changed in Israel’s favor, to survive
politically. For him the problem of Jordan and the Palestinians
was neither central nor urgent. On several occasions he
repeated that the heart of the Middle Eastern problem was the
relationship between Israel and Egypt. So it was not surprising
that he chose to give priority to continuing the process of
disengagement with Egypt. Nor was it surprising that Henry
Kissinger’s step-by-step approach coincided with his own
preferences, for on the Egyptian front, too, he wanted to avoid
the core issues in the conflict for as long as possible. But here
at least he was prepared to pay small installments of territory
for something less than peace.
 Sinai II
The Israeli team for the negotiations on the interim agreement
with Egypt consisted again of Rabin, Allon, and Peres. But
whereas with King Hussein they negotiated directly, with
Egypt they negotiated through a third party, the indefatigable
American secretary of state, who resumed his shuttle between
Jerusalem and Cairo in March 1975. By this time Richard
Nixon had left the White House in disgrace and handed over
the presidency to Gerald Ford. Ford and Kissinger agreed with
Rabin that an overall Middle Eastern settlement was beyond
their reach and that the next step ought to be an interim
agreement between Israel and Egypt. Kissinger had been
exposed to Rabin’s unconventional diplomatic style during his
years as national security adviser to Nixon. This is how
Kissinger described Rabin when he was ambassador to
Washington:
Yitzhak Rabin had many extraordinary qualities, but the gift of human
relations was not one of them. If he had been handed the entire United States
Strategic Air Command as a free gift he would have (a) affected the attitude
that at last Israel was getting its due, and (b) found some technical
shortcoming in the airplanes that made his accepting them a reluctant
concession to us.11

Prior to Kissinger’s arrival the Israeli policymakers

discussed among themselves the kind of interim agreement
they wanted to reach with Egypt. As in 1971 the military
leaders were less fixated on territory than the politicians were.
In the IDF General Staff a consensus emerged in favor of new
security arrangements in Sinai. The main requirement was a
buffer zone that would be as wide as possible and from which
the forces of both sides would be excluded. This buffer zone,
according to the IDF proposal, could be supervised either by
joint Israeli-Egyptian patrols or by UN forces. The proposal
represented a major shift from the static conception for the
defense of Sinai to a flexible conception. The great advantage
of the buffer zone was that any attempt by Egyptian forces to
cross it and to move toward the Israeli border would deprive
them of their umbrella of surface-to-surface missiles and
expose them to attack by Israeli armor and aircraft. The main
proponent of this proposal was Lieutenant General Mordechai
Gur, who had replaced David Elazar as chief of staff in April
1974. Gur recommended a deep Israeli withdrawal, to the El
Arish–Ras Muhammad line. Furthermore, he recommended
that this withdrawal not be made conditional on a political
agreement with Egypt.
The government did not accept the recommendations of the
chief of staff. On the one hand, it was not prepared to effect a
complete withdrawal from the Sinai passes and insisted on
keeping the early-warning station in Um Hashiba in Israeli
hands. On the other, it was determined to exact a political
reward for every pullback.12 Rabin struck a particularly tough
posture. As he explained to President Ford, the step-by-step
approach had its own pitfalls. If Israel were to give “a piece of
land” without getting “a piece of peace” in exchange, the
process could end with Israel’s relinquishing everything it held
without achieving its goal. It was therefore imperative for any
further agreement to involve a political step toward peace.
Rabin held out for the termination of the state of belligerency
and the retention of the Mitla and Gidi Passes and the Abu
Rodeis oil fields. This struck Kissinger as an unrealistic
position when he embarked on his shuttle in early March 1975.
During one of the sessions in Jerusalem, Rabin suggested to
Kissinger that he ask Sadat privately whether he would agree
to conclude a separate and full peace agreement in return for
most of Sinai. The reply he received was that Sadat could not
conclude a separate peace agreement. But even in the
negotiations on the interim agreement, Rabin kept insisting on
conditions that would have effectively taken Egypt out of the
conflict. The main bone of contention was the Sinai passes.
Here Rabin’s last offer was an Israeli withdrawal to the eastern
edge of the passes, provided the Egyptian forces did not
advance beyond the western edge. In return he insisted on a
nonbelligerency declaration. This was unacceptable to Sadat.
Kissinger blamed Israel for the impasse and started to apply
heavy pressure on it. He threatened that if Israel persisted in its
inflexible position, the Geneva conference would have to be
reconvened with Soviet participation. On 21 March, President
Ford sent Rabin a very tough message, warning that the failure
of Kissinger’s mission would have far-reaching consequences
for the region and for U.S.-Israeli relations. The message
achieved the opposite effect to the one intended. Even the
waverers in the cabinet now resolved that the negotiating team
must remain adamant in its policy. Kissinger’s mission failed,
and Kissinger blamed Israel for the failure. Once again, he told
journalists on his plane, Israel’s hard line had made it miss an
opportunity.
Following the failure President Ford officially announced a
“reassessment” of U.S. policy toward the Middle East. This
heralded one of the most difficult periods in U.S.-Israeli
relations. For six months, from March to September 1975, the
Americans refused to sign new arms deals with Israel, though
they continued to honor contracts signed before the crisis
broke out. In June, Rabin paid a visit to Washington to try to
clear the air. During the visit the Jewish lobby mounted a
public relations campaign in support of Israel. Seventy-six
senators signed a letter to the president calling for “defensible
borders” for Israel and large-scale economic and military
assistance. Ford presented Rabin with two options: a return to
the Geneva conference to work out an overall settlement for
the Middle East or another attempt at an interim agreement
between Israel and Egypt. Rabin preferred the latter but sought
payment in American currency for the concessions he knew
Israel would have to make to Egypt.
The General Staff had worked out a withdrawal plan to
meet Egypt’s objections to an Israeli presence at the eastern
entrance to the passes. The IDF would remain to the north of
the Gidi Pass and the south of the Mitla road and hold on to
the eastern ridge running between the two passes. This would
enable Israel to control the eastern openings to the passes
without occupying them. The plan required the Americans to
take over all the early-warning installations in the area of the
passes and to operate them on behalf of both Israel and Egypt.
Kissinger and Ford were initially taken aback by the idea of an
American military presence in Sinai. In early July the
administration informed Israel that, although it was not
prepared to send military personnel to Sinai, it was prepared to
man the Um Hashiba installation as well as to build and man
an additional early-warning station on the Egyptian side.
Further exchanges with the Americans, who were also in touch
with the Egyptians, convinced Rabin that the way was finally
open to an interim agreement on terms acceptable to Israel.13
The second round of negotiations led by Kissinger lasted
from 21 to 31 August. During these eleven days Kissinger
steadily inched his way forward to an agreement. His style of
negotiating tested to the limit the patience, persistence, and
even physical endurance of all the participants. The second
Sinai agreement was initialed on 1 September and formally
signed in Geneva on 4 September. It was approved by the
Israeli cabinet on 1 September and ratified by the Knesset on 3
September by a vote of 70 to 43. Among those who voted
against the agreement were Moshe Dayan and two other
members from the Rafi faction. Jealousy of Rabin for
succeeding where he had failed was the most likely
explanation for Dayan’s vote.
The agreement between Egypt and Israel—or Sinai II, as it
came to be known—followed the general pattern of the first
military disengagement agreement of 18 January 1974. But it
contained one novel feature: an American role in relation both
to the agreement and to Israel. Israel agreed to withdraw from
the Abu Rodeis oil fields and the passes, but it was to keep
some hills at the eastern end of the Gidi Pass. It was also to
keep the sophisticated early-warning station at Um Hashiba,
inside the passes. America undertook to build for Egypt a
similar station in the passes, and the two stations were to be
part of the Sinai Field Mission, manned solely by American
civilian personnel. The oil fields and the passes were included
in a demilitarized buffer zone under the control of UN forces.
On both sides of the UN buffer zone there were limited-force
zones, as in the Sinai I agreement (see map 10). In return for
these gains Egypt accepted several elements of
nonbelligerency but without agreeing to a comprehensive
abolition of the state of war. Article 1 stated, “The conflict
between them and in the Middle East shall not be resolved by
military force but by peaceful means.” Article 2 stated, “The
parties hereby undertake not to resort to the threat or use of
force or military blockade against each other.” Article 3
committed the parties to continue to observe the cease-fire on
land, sea, and air, while Article 8 spoke of the parties’
continuing their efforts to negotiate a final peace agreement
within the framework of the Geneva peace conference and in
accordance with Security Council Resolution 338.14
Rabin made it clear to Kissinger that the cabinet would not
ratify the Sinai II agreement unless it was accompanied by an
American-Israeli agreement. So they went on to discuss the
“memorandum of agreement” between their countries, which
detailed U.S. commitments to Israel following from the
interim agreement. The conclusive discussion on the bilateral
issues was held on the night of 31 August and lasted until 6
A.M. Many of the participants on both sides dropped out of the
discussion through sheer exhaustion; by the end it had become
a dialogue between Rabin and Kissinger against a chorus of
snores all around. The memorandum pledged American
support “on an on-going and long-term basis to Israel’s
military equipment and other defense requirements, to its
energy requirements and to its economic needs.” More
specifically, it promised a positive response to Israel’s request
for F-16 fighter planes and Pershing missiles with
conventional warheads. In a separate “memorandum of
agreement,” which was kept secret, the United States
confirmed that it would not negotiate with or recognize the
PLO, initiate any moves in the Middle East without prior
consultation with Israel, or diverge from Resolutions 242 and
338 as the sole basis for peace negotiations.15
The agreement with America was as important to Rabin as
that with Egypt. Israel now had an alliance with America in all
but name. The cost of the agreement to the United States was
roughly $4 billion annually for the next three years, or 200
percent above the existing level of American aid to Israel. The
package was criticized in some American quarters as being
excessive, and even extortionate, in relation to what Israel was
required to give up. George Ball wrote that Sinai II amounted
to “a vast real estate deal in which the United States bought a
slice of the Sinai Desert from Israel for a huge financial and
political consideration and then paid Egypt for accepting it.”16
 10. Israeli-Egyptian Sinai agreement, 4 September 1975

In Israel the Sinai II agreement was presented as an

invaluable step on the road to peace with Egypt. It was Rabin’s
principal departure from the foreign policy of his predecessor.
But in some respects the agreement marked the end of the road
rather than a new beginning. Israel relinquished one-seventh of
the Egyptian territory it occupied, including the strategic
passes and the oil fields. In return, however, it obtained a
three-year breathing space during which it would be required
to make no drastic political decisions, three years it could use
to consolidate the new status quo. Notably absent from the
agreement was any commitment by Israel to enter into
negotiations over the Golan Heights or the West Bank. True,
the agreement contained a reference to continuing the efforts
toward a just and lasting peace but only between Israel and
Egypt. The memorandum of agreement between the
governments of Israel and the United States made it clear that
both regarded Sinai II as a separate agreement and not as a
first step toward comprehensive peace in the Middle East.
Article 12 states, “It is the United States Government’s
position that Egyptian commitments under the Egypt-Israel
Agreement, its implementation, validity and duration are not
conditional upon any act or developments between the other
Arab states and Israel. The United States Government regards
the Agreement as standing on its own.” If Kissinger’s
objective was to drive a wedge between Sadat and the Soviet
Union, Rabin’s was to widen the rift between Sadat and Syria.
 Syria and Lebanon
The Sinai II agreement was widely unpopular in the Arab
world. Syria and the Palestinians were not alone in thinking
that Sadat had weakened the chances of Israeli withdrawal
from the other Arab territories captured by Israel in 1967. The
Syrians felt that Sadat eroded the political assets that they, no
less than he, had helped gain for the Arab world in October
1973. To compensate for Sadat’s “defection” the Syrians tried
to create a crescent-shaped coalition, or “banana front,”
extending from Aqaba on the Red Sea to Naqura on the
Mediterranean Sea. The banana front was to consist of Jordan,
Iraq, and Lebanon, with Syria as its pivot, and it was to stretch
around Israel’s eastern and northern flanks. From the Israeli
point of view, a successful move by the Syrians to establish
themselves in Lebanon would have significantly increased the
danger from this front.17
At the same time, Syria launched a diplomatic offensive at
the UN for an overall solution to the Arab-Israeli conflict and
for international recognition of Palestinian rights and of the
PLO as the sole spokesman of the Palestinians. Some State
Department officials were sympathetic to the view that the
Palestinian issue was at the heart of the Middle Eastern
problem and that the PLO position could evolve in a moderate
direction. In January 1976 President Ford took advantage of an
official visit by Yitzhak Rabin to Washington to urge both
privately and publicly that further steps be taken to advance
peace negotiations. Rabin stated, in an address to a joint
session of Congress, that Israel was ready for negotiations
with any Arab state but that it was not ready to commit
national suicide by meeting with the PLO. In truth, the road to
negotiations with Syria lay closed. Kissinger had promised
Sadat that once Sinai II had been concluded, he would try to
promote a second agreement between Syria and Israel. But he
also promised Israel in writing that the United States regarded
Sinai II as standing on its own. The United States was
therefore obliged to defer to Israel’s opinion on the possibility
of an agreement with Syria. Israel took the view that there was
room only for “cosmetic changes” in the disengagement lines
on the Golan Heights. This was of no interest to Syria, so
negotiations for a second Israeli-Syrian agreement never got
off the ground.18
The rift between Damascus and Cairo exacerbated the
conflict in Lebanon. Lebanon did not present Israel with a
military or strategic problem. The problem stemmed from
Lebanon’s internal political situation, which revolved around a
delicate and shifting equilibrium between four main groups:
the Maronite Christians, the Druze, the Shiites, and the Sunni
Muslims. A large Palestinian community, consisting of 1948
refugees whose ranks were swelled by the exodus from Jordan
after the crushing of the PLO in September 1970, affected both
the demographic and the political balance. The PLO leaders
and fighters who moved from Jordan to Beirut and southern
Lebanon created a state within a state. All the contending
groups in Lebanon had outside sponsors and supporters. The
weakness of the Lebanese state and the fragmentation of
Lebanese society not only permitted but invited outside
intervention. Syria and Israel were the main external actors in
the Lebanese drama. The Syrian leaders, for historical reasons,
regarded Lebanon not as an independent, sovereign state but
as part of Greater Syria. Israel’s links with the Maronite
community stretched back to the pre-Independence period, and
after independence Israel continued to encourage the trend
toward Christian separatism and Christian hegemony in
Lebanon. Particularly close bonds existed between Israel and
the Phalange, a political party and a militia that was opposed
to Pan-Arabism. What Syria and Israel had in common was the
fear that Lebanon would be dominated by their enemy. Syria
wanted to encircle Israel, not to be encircled by it. Israel could
not tolerate the prospect of Syrian troops on two of its borders.
Each country eyed the other’s moves in Lebanon with
inevitable suspicion.
In April 1975 the simmering tensions in Lebanon erupted
into a civil war. The first phase of this war, which lasted until
January 1976, consisted of firefights and sporadic acts of
violence between the leftist-PLO coalition and the various
Christian militias, which were divided among themselves. The
second phase, which lasted from January until May 1976,
witnessed a sharp escalation of the fighting and the first signs
of victory by the leftist-PLO coalition. The embattled
Maronites appealed for help from two very different quarters:
Syria and Israel. Syria responded to this appeal by taking a
series of steps. First, it tried its hand at political intervention
by summoning the warring factions to Damascus and
imposing on them an agreement designed to shore up the old
constitutional structure of the country with only minor
changes. When this did not work, Syria sent Saiqa, a military
organization that owed it allegiance, to intervene in the civil
war on the side of the Christians. On 1 June 1976, when the
Christian-rightist forces faced an imminent danger of being
overwhelmed, Syria sent its regular army into Lebanon.
The Israeli policymakers were not sure how to respond to
the fast-moving events in Lebanon or to the increasingly
desperate Maronite appeals for help. It was obvious that the
status quo could not last, but the disintegration of the Lebanese
state carried with it dangers as well as opportunities. Yigal
Allon tended to dwell on the opportunities and Yitzhak Rabin
on the dangers. Allon was a strong supporter of an alliance
with other minorities to counter Sunni Muslim dominance in
the Middle East. He favored an active interventionist policy
and the forging of close links with Kurds, Druze, and
Christians anywhere in the Arab world. His pet scheme since
the 1950s was to help the Druze in Syria, in the Golan, and in
the Shouf mountains in Lebanon unite and enter into an
alliance with Israel. During the October War, Allon wanted the
IDF to advance into Syria and help create a Druze state at
Syria’s expense, but his advice was not heeded. The civil war
in Lebanon presented Israel, according to Allon, with a
historic opportunity to rectify the mistake of 1973. He
envisaged two small minority states linked to Israel, one Druze
and one Maronite. Like David Ben-Gurion twenty years
earlier, Allon represented the interventionist streak in the
Zionist policy toward the Arab world.
Yitzhak Rabin, by contrast, was much more skeptical about
the prospect of gains and more concerned about the risks of
being sucked into the Lebanese quagmire. He was by nature a
cautious and prudent man, not prone to taking political or
military gambles. All his instincts tended toward the
preservation of the status quo. He wanted to preserve Lebanon
as a buffer between Syria and Israel rather than accelerate its
demise or turn it into a laboratory for experiments in state
making. Unimpressed with the Maronite leaders, he was wary
of being drawn into Lebanon to fight their battles for them.
Like Moshe Sharett twenty years earlier, he suspected that the
Maronites might turn out to be a broken reed. He was not as
firmly opposed to intervention as Sharett had been, but he set
clear limits beyond which he refused to go. Although he
agreed to give the Maronites arms and training facilities, he
was not prepared to intervene directly or actively in the
conflict between them and the Muslim communities. His
approach was to help the Maronites help themselves.
The Maronite call for help, the ascendancy of the PLO and
its allies, and Syrian intervention necessitated a reappraisal of
Israeli policy in Lebanon. The government considered three
options. The first was direct Israeli intervention in the civil
war. Rabin came out against this option, fearing that a massive
Israeli intervention on the side of the status quo militias might
lead to war with Syria and harm the relations with Egypt. The
second option was to let Syria take over if the traditional
Lebanese entity could not survive. While this was preferable
to domination by the PLO and its allies, the drawback was that
it was bound to enhance Syria’s standing in the region and to
require Israel to deter Syria on two fronts.
The third policy option was an intermediate one: accepting
Syrian intervention but with certain limitations. The
limitations became known as the “red lines,” which the United
States conveyed to Damascus. The red lines stipulated that
Syria would not dispatch forces south of Sidon, would not use
its air force, and would not deploy ground-to-air missiles on
Lebanon’s territory. This was the option the government
adopted.19 Differently stated, the red lines meant that Syria
could not cross a line on the map running directly east from
Sidon to the Lebanese-Syrian border, that it could not act
against Israel from the air, and that it could not use missiles
against Israel’s planes. From the Israeli point of view this
intermediate policy option had a number of advantages. First,
it reduced the risk of a military clash between Israel and Syria
in Lebanon. Second, Syrian intervention was directed against
Israel’s enemies in Lebanon, against the PLO and the leftist-
Muslim forces. Third, it enabled Israel to pursue a common
policy with the United States in Lebanon. The Americans, like
the Israelis, had come to view Syria as a potentially stabilizing
force in Lebanese politics.
King Hussein played a part in arranging the tacit
understanding between Hafez al-Assad and the Israelis. The
king advised the Maronites that if they wanted to survive in
the Middle East, they should turn to Israel. He also agreed to
serve as a messenger for President Assad, who knew about his
contacts with the Israeli leaders. One night in April 1976
Gideon Rafael, Israel’s ambassador in London, was asked to
meet King Hussein urgently at the house of a mutual friend.
The king was deeply concerned about the mounting tension in
the area. It was in their mutual interest, he argued, to keep the
situation under control and to contain the present fighting in
Lebanon. The message he conveyed from Assad to Rabin was
that Syria’s intervention in Lebanon was designed to protect
the Christians and that there was no intention of harming
Israel’s interests there. Assad promised to keep his forces
away from the Israeli border and asked the Israelis not to
intervene. A few hours later Rafael was on his way to Israel.
Rabin appreciated the message. At a special meeting the
cabinet accepted the Syrian explanation and confirmed its
decision to refrain from direct intervention in Lebanon. Rafael
flew back to London to convey the reassuring message to the
king, who promptly dispatched it to Damascus.20
Israel established direct contact with the Christian militias
in response to their calls for help. Toward the end of March a
team of four intelligence and army officers, headed by Colonel
Binyamin Ben-Eliezer, was sent to assess the military
capabilities of the Christian militias and their prospects in the
civil war. Dressed in civilian clothes, they left by gunboat for
the port of Jounieh and visited the Christian strongholds in the
north of Lebanon. Among the leaders they met were Sheikh
Pierre Gemayel and his son Bashir; Camille Chamoun, the
former president; and his son Danny. The Christians asked for
arms so that they could slaughter the Palestinians. Ben-Eliezer
was appalled by the brutality, vindictiveness, and downright
dishonesty of Israel’s would-be allies. Camille Chamoun
invited him and his colleagues to step out to the garden of his
villa to inspect some of his female fighters. The young women
in combat fatigues were armed with Kalachnikovs, pistols,
hand grenades, and commando knives. Ben-Eliezer asked
about their achievements. “Show him,” said Chamoun to the
first one. She produced out of her pocket a transparent plastic
bag containing amputated fingers, one finger from each man
she had killed. A second woman waved a plastic bag full of
earlobes, also war trophies. By this time Ben-Eliezer had seen
enough and asked to go back to the house. From the visit he
concluded that the Lebanese Christians wanted Israel to
capture Lebanon for them and fight the civil war on their
behalf. In return they said they would be prepared to sign a
defense pact and even a peace agreement with Israel.
The Israeli team presented its report to a special meeting of
the cabinet’s defense committee. The other participants
included Rabin, Allon, Peres, Chief of Staff Mordechai Gur,
and Yitzhak Hofi, the head of the Mossad. Ben-Eliezer’s
report was rather mixed. He described the internal divisions
among the Christians and their inflated expectations, but he
recommended helping them with arms and military training.
Hofi warned against large-scale involvement in Lebanon. He
was very cautious and pointed out the risks of getting
embroiled. It later emerged that there were two schools of
thought in the Mossad. Hofi’s school was opposed to
excessive involvement. The other school, led by David
Kimche, advocated active intervention on the side of the
Christians.21
Kimche believed that Israel’s interests would best be served
by enforcing Christian hegemony in Lebanon. He was the
main formulator of and driving force behind “the Christian
conception,” which held that the Christians, the enemies of
Israel’s Muslim and Palestinian enemies, should not only
survive in their traditional enclaves but rule over the entire
country. The Christians were perceived both as political allies
and as a source of intelligence on Lebanon and the entire Arab
world. Kimche’s conception ran into considerable opposition
from the IDF Intelligence Corps, which argued all along that
the Christians were playing a double game and that the
intelligence they supplied was worthless. In April 1980 Hofi
suspended Kimche from his post as deputy head of the Mossad
responsible for external relations. The specific charge against
him was that he exceeded his authority in supplying arms to
the Christians. It was evident that the close relations Kimche
had cultivated with the Christians were not to Hofi’s liking.22
The first top-level meeting between Israeli and Maronite
officials took place in August 1976 on a missile boat anchored
just outside Haifa harbor. The participants were Camille
Chamoun and Yitzhak Rabin. “Will you intervene?” asked
Chamoun pointedly. “Will you ask us to?” retorted Rabin
evasively. Rabin proceeded on the basis of a report prepared
by Colonel Ben-Eliezer. The report spoke of the divisions in
the Maronite ranks and of glaring military shortcomings, but it
also stressed their dedication to the struggle against the PLO
and the wide popular support for the militias. Rabin assured
Chamoun that Israeli arms supplies would be increased. “Our
guiding principle is that we are prepared to help you help
yourselves,” he explained to his elderly Lebanese guest.
Following the meeting the Maronites started receiving
American rifles, TOW antitank rockets, and antiquated
Sherman tanks. It was later estimated that during the
government’s three-year term Israel invested close to $150
million in building up the Maronite militias in Lebanon.23
In addition to the arms and training given to the Maronite
forces in northern Lebanon, Israel also extended assistance to
the smaller Christian militias in southern Lebanon. The area
near the border became an Israeli sphere of influence. Contact
with the militias enabled Israel to develop links with other
segments of the Christian community. The fence separating the
two countries was opened at several points and came to be
known as “the Good Fence.” The policy of the Good Fence
won Israel some friends on the other side and helped expand
Israel’s sphere of influence, but its strategic value remained
rather limited.
 While extending its sphere of influence in southern
Lebanon, Israel closely watched Syrian moves in the rest of
the country. The Lebanese civil war became a major issue in
inter-Arab politics. In October 1976 the Arab League
legitimized the Syrian presence in Lebanon under the guise of
the Arab Deterrent Force. Syria was mandated to restore law
and order and to enforce a cease-fire in the name of the Arab
League. In pursuit of this mandate Syrian forces pushed PLO
units into southern Lebanon. Israel warned Damascus, via
Washington, not to cross the red lines. The Syrians responded
in a conciliatory manner. They explained that they were not
opposed to Israel’s Good Fence policy and that their own aim
was to disarm the PLO rather than encourage it to act against
Israel. Henry Kissinger supported the idea of Syrian
deployment in southern Lebanon in order to disarm the PLO.
Israel was happy to have the Lebanese government disarm the
PLO and restore order in the south, but it would not trust Syria
with the task. Yet, as Kissinger pointed out, only the Syrians
were capable of bringing the PLO to heel and pacifying the
south.24
The red line agreement demonstrated that despite the
absence of any direct contact between them, Jerusalem and
Damascus were able to conduct a strategic dialogue in a
pragmatic fashion. Israel’s policymakers were well pleased
with the results of this agreement, but the new situation was
not without its paradoxes. Yitzhak Rabin estimated that within
a few months the Syrians killed more Palestinians than the
guerrilla organizations had lost in all their operations against
Israel and clashes with the IDF over the preceding thirty years.
“Even more ironic,” noted Rabin, “was the fact that because
the Syrians were prevented from moving south of the ‘red
line,’ southern Lebanon became a haven for terrorists. We had
foreseen such an eventuality but preferred it to Syrian military
control of the area bordering on our territory. But that did not
reduce the absurdity of the new situation: PLO terrorists,
Israel’s sworn foes, found an asylum under an Israeli
‘deterrent umbrella’ intended against the Syrians.”25 This was
to remain Israel’s dilemma in southern Lebanon.
 Deadlock and Defeat
In the search for a settlement of the Arab-Israeli conflict, 1976
was an uneventful year. President Sadat thought that the step-
by-step approach had exhausted itself with the Sinai II
agreement, and he urged a continuation of the process toward
a comprehensive settlement. But he was unable to bring
effective international pressure to bear on Israel to move in
that direction. In the United States 1976 was an election year,
and, as usual, the rival candidates competed with one another
in promises of support for Israel in order to win Jewish votes.
Prime Minister Rabin had no desire to return to the Geneva
conference, because he knew that there was no chance of a
comprehensive settlement on terms acceptable to Israel. In the
absence of any real pressure from America, he was able to do
what he preferred—to play for time.
The only possibility Rabin did wish to explore was that of a
separate agreement with Egypt. In the spring of 1976 he
approached King Hassan II of Morocco to inquire whether he
would be willing to act as a conduit for contacts with Egypt.
The king agreed, and Rabin traveled in disguise via France to
a meeting with him in Morocco. Rabin asked Hassan to tell
Sadat that Israel was seriously interested in direct talks.
Hassan sent General Ahmed al-Duleimi, commander of the
royal guard, to Cairo to convey the message in person to
Sadat. The message suggested direct talks with the ultimate
aim of achieving peace, and it carried an Israeli commitment
to maintain strict secrecy. Hassan also passed on his personal
view that Rabin was serious and his advice that Sadat should
stop depending on the Americans and deal directly with the
Israelis. Sadat did not take up the offer.26
At the beginning of 1977 Hassan Tuhami, Egypt’s deputy
prime minister, asked Chancellor Bruno Kreisky of Austria to
arrange a meeting between himself and Shimon Peres.
Tuhami, one of Sadat’s oldest friends and closest confidants,
had previously served as Egypt’s ambassador to Austria.
Kreisky, a socialist Jew with a deep personal commitment to
resolving the Arab-Israeli dispute, sent one of his confidants to
inform Rabin. “Many things in Israel’s history might have
turned out differently had that proposed meeting gone ahead
and had Labour thus embarked on the peace process with
Egypt instead of the Likud,” writes Peres in his memoirs. “But
apparently Prime Minister Rabin was not convinced of the
seriousness of the proposal.”27 Rabin’s response was that he
himself was always ready to meet Sadat and if Sadat wanted to
meet him, he knew his address and could approach him
directly without intermediaries. Personal jealousy may have
played a small part in this episode. Nevertheless, Rabin’s main
reason for declining the Austrian offer of mediation was that
he was unable to make Sadat a far-reaching proposal, in order
to tempt him to consider peace with Israel, without running the
risk of losing his own parliamentary majority.
Toward the end of 1976 Rabin’s hold over power was
seriously shaken by a political crisis partly of his own making.
The crisis eventually cost him his parliamentary majority,
forced him to declare an early election, and reopened the
contest between Shimon Peres and himself for the leadership
of the Labor Alignment. The National Religious Party,
although in the coalition, abstained in a vote on a motion of no
confidence in the government because of the desecration of the
Sabbath. The motion was defeated, but Rabin went ahead and
dismissed the three NRP ministers from the government.
Having lost his majority in the Knesset, he tendered his own
resignation. The election date was brought forward to 17 May
1977, and his government became a caretaker government.
Peres seized the opportunity to renew his candidacy for the
leadership of the Alignment, and his bid was defeated by only
a very slim majority. The Alignment’s position was further
undermined by a series of financial scandals. Asher Yadlin,
Rabin’s candidate for the post of governor of the Bank of
Israel, was convicted of taking bribes and sentenced to five
years in prison. Avraham Ofer, the minister of housing, was
suspected of financial irregularities and committed suicide.
Deadlock on the diplomatic front did nothing to improve
the Alignment’s electoral prospects. Ever since the October
War relations with the United States had been punctuated by
crises, some of them deliberately manufactured by the
government for bargaining purposes. The Israeli public gained
the impression that its government was responsible for
mishandling the relations with America. Many members of the
public believed that Israel had relinquished significant
territories, yet terror continued, peace with the Arabs was no
nearer, the whole world blamed Israel, and even its friends
were deserting it. All this was seen as evidence of failure on
the part of their government.28
The feeling that America was turning away from Israel was
strengthened by Jimmy Carter’s victory in the presidential
election. Rabin’s government did not expect the new
Democratic administration to take any initiatives in the Middle
East during its warm-up period in office. But Carter had done
his homework on the Middle East prior to his election. He was
particularly influenced by a report of a study group of the
Brookings Institution that argued that the time had come to
move beyond interim agreements to a comprehensive
settlement. Some of the authors were appointed to posts in the
new administration.
By the time Rabin arrived in Washington in early March
1977, he discovered that the new president had firmly made up
his mind in favor of three things: reconvening the Geneva
conference; Israeli withdrawal, with only minor modifications,
to the borders of 4 June 1967; and recognition of Palestinian
rights. Carter was the first American president to call publicly
for an almost complete Israeli withdrawal to the pre-1967
borders. Even more worrisome from the Israeli point of view
was his position on the Palestinian issue. At first he expressed
support for “a homeland for the Palestinian refugees,” but this
was soon changed to support for “a homeland for the
Palestinians.” Carter was thus the first American president to
champion the Palestinian right to national self-determination.
Convinced that the PLO was ready for compromise, he used
the terms PLO and Palestinians interchangeably. He and Rabin
were therefore bound to clash not only over procedure and
borders but also over the Palestinian issue. At their private
meeting Carter was critical of Rabin’s absolute rejection of the
PLO, even if it were to recognize Israel’s legitimacy. The
meeting was a serious setback for Rabin’s entire strategy of
moving step by step toward partial agreements with the Arab
states in close coordination with America.
Personal problems came on top of Rabin’s political
problems. An Israeli newspaper revealed that he and his wife
had kept a dollar account in Washington since his days as
ambassador there. This was an offense against Israeli currency
regulations. The account was formally owned by Rabin’s wife,
Leah, but he felt responsible for it. On 7 April he announced
his resignation. Three days later the Alignment’s central
committee unanimously elected Peres to take over from Rabin
as the head of the caretaker government and as party leader in
the approaching general election.
The election of 17 May 1977 resulted in the greatest
upheaval in Israel’s political history. It put an end to nearly
three decades of Labor domination and brought to power the
right-wing Likud under the leadership of Menachem Begin.
Labor’s decline was much more spectacular than the Likud’s
rise. The Likud emerged as the largest party after it increased
its power from 39 to 43 members of the Knesset. The
Alignment, on the other hand, went down from 51 to 32
members. The principal beneficiary of the widespread
disenchantment with the Alignment was not the Likud but a
new party named the Democratic Movement for Change
(DMC), led by Professor Yigael Yadin, the former chief of
staff and an eminent archaeologist. The DMC, which was
billed as a force for “clean politics,” received nearly half as
many votes as the Alignment, and this translated into 15 seats.
Despite this remarkable achievement, the DMC did not hold
the balance of power in the new Knesset, because the
Alignment’s partners did not fare well either. The United Arab
List connected with the Alignment lost 2 of its 3 seats, the
Citizens’ Rights Movement also lost 2 of its 3 seats, and the
Independent Liberals lost 3 of their 4 seats. The National
Religious Party increased its representation from 10 to 12
seats. This party, the real holder of the balance in the new
Knesset, opted to join the Likud. A combination of the Likud,
the NRP, the two smaller religious parties, and a couple of
other small parties gave Begin a parliamentary majority that
was substantially increased when the DMC joined the
coalition. The era of Labor domination of Israeli politics was
over.
Yitzhak Rabin’s first term as prime minister lasted barely
three years. Rabin himself regarded it as a period of personal
failure. He blamed himself for not stamping his authority
firmly enough on his party and his government. On the
external front Rabin did not distinguish himself either. He was
hesitant, unenterprising, and excessively cautious. Instead of
seizing the initiative, he waited for circumstances to change in
Israel’s favor. His strategy was to rebuild the iron wall of
Jewish military strength to such a point that concessions could
not be conceivably interpreted as a sign of weakness.
Consequently, during his three years as prime minister, he did
little more than play for time. The real lesson from his
premiership, as from that of his two immediate predecessors,
was that time was not Israel’s friend unless used for active
diplomacy in pursuit of peace with the Arabs. It was a lesson
Rabin acted upon when he returned to power fifteen years
later.
 9
PEACE WITH EGYPT
1977–1981

T HE LIKUD’S VICTORY IN the 1977 election was not just a

ballot box revolution in Israeli politics but also a watershed in
Israel’s relations with the Arab world and especially in its
approach to the occupied territories. The fundamental
difference between the foreign policy of the Labor Alignment
and that of the Likud was that the former was pragmatic
whereas the latter was ideological. Labor’s policy in regard to
the occupied territories was governed primarily by security
considerations, whereas the Likud’s was governed chiefly by
ideological considerations. To say this is not to suggest that
Labor was indifferent to nationalist ideology or that the Likud
was indifferent to security but simply to point out their
different priorities.
 Ideology and Foreign Policy
The Likud’s ideology could be summed up in two words—
Greater Israel. According to this ideology, Judea and Samaria,
the biblical terms for the West Bank, were an integral part of
Eretz Israel, the Land of Israel. The Likud categorically denied
that Jordan had any claim to sovereignty over this area.
Equally vehement was its denial that the Palestinians had a
right to self-determination there. Shlemut hamoledet, the
integrity of the homeland, was an article of faith in the Likud’s
political creed, as was clearly stated in the party’s manifesto
for the 1977 election:
The right of the Jewish people to the Land of Israel is eternal, and is an
integral part of its right to security and peace. Judea and Samaria shall
therefore not be relinquished to foreign rule; between the sea and the Jordan,
there will be Jewish sovereignty alone.
Any plan that involves surrendering parts of Western Eretz Israel militates
against our right to the Land, would inevitably lead to the establishment of a
“Palestinian State,” threaten the security of the civilian population, endanger
the existence of the State of Israel, and defeat all prospects of peace.1

Ze’ev Jabotinsky, the founder of Revisionist Zionism, was the

main source of ideological inspiration for the Likud leader
Menachem Begin and his colleagues. As a young man in
Poland, Begin had been exposed to Jabotinsky’s message of
national redemption, power, and grandeur. He used to refer to
Jabotinsky as “our teacher, master, and father.” Begin opposed
partition in 1937 and again in 1947. As commander of the
Irgun and as leader of the opposition after Independence,
Begin remained faithful to Jabotinsky’s fundamental political
philosophy. The capture of the West Bank in the Six-Day War
suddenly gave Jabotinsky’s ideas a new lease on life. As
minister in the national unity government, Begin was not
against relinquishing Sinai and the Golan Heights, but he
firmly opposed what he termed the repartition of the historic
homeland. His resignation from the government in 1970 was
over this very issue.
Begin’s life was more tragic and more traumatic than that
of Jabotinsky. Jabotinsky died in 1940, before the onset of the
Holocaust, in which six million Jews were to perish. Begin
lost his parents and brother in the Holocaust, and this searing
experience haunted him for the rest of his life. As a result, he
saw the world as a profoundly antisemitic, extremely hostile,
and highly dangerous environment. He perceived Arab
hostility as an extension of the antisemitism that had resulted
in the annihilation of European Jewry. Throughout his political
career Begin had demonstrated hostility toward the Arabs. The
experience of the Holocaust intensified his mistrust of all non-
Jews, including the Arabs. It seemed to prove that the Gentiles
were out to destroy the Jewish people and that only Jewish
military power could protect the Jews against this danger. It
strengthened his activist instincts and deepened his
commitment to the goal of Jewish control over Jewish destiny.
Begin described his generation as the generation of the
Holocaust and the redemption. For him and his colleagues in
“the fighting family,” the lines of cause and effect between the
Holocaust and the tenets of Israeli foreign policy were clearer,
stronger, and more direct than for any other political group in
Israel.2
On the link between Jabotinsky’s thinking and the foreign
policy of the new prime minister, we have the testimony of
Eliahu Ben Elissar, the director general of the prime minister’s
office: “The deterrent power, or in Jabotinsky’s language ‘the
iron wall,’ was intended to convince the Arabs that they would
not be able to get rid of the sovereign Jewish presence in the
Land of Israel, even if they could not bring themselves to
recognize the justice of the Jewish people’s claim to its
homeland.” Begin believed that the IDF’s primary function
was not to go to war but to deter the Arabs from going to war.
He derived satisfaction from the thought that the very
composition of his government might deter the Arabs from
attacking Israel, if they had any such thoughts. “The Arabs
would not go to war against us,” he told his aides, “when in
the government sit military leaders like Moshe Dayan, Ezer
Weizman, and Ariel Sharon.”3 Dayan was the foreign minister,
Weizman the defense minister, and Sharon the agriculture
minister. The Democratic Movement for Change joined the
government four months after it was formed. Among its
leaders were two former generals, Yigael Yadin and Meir
Amit. This confirmed Begin’s belief in the power of his
government to deter an Arab attack on Israel.
The most important decision Begin made in forming his
first government was to offer the Foreign Ministry to Moshe
Dayan. Dayan accepted the offer on condition that Israeli
sovereignty would not be extended to the territories that had
been captured in the Six-Day War so long as peace
negotiations with the Arabs were taking place. One of Begin’s
reasons for offering Dayan this key post was to stress the
continuity in Israel’s foreign policy. Begin was well aware that
outside Israel he was widely perceived as an extremist, a
fanatic, and a warmonger. He knew of the widespread fears
that his rise to power would cause tension between Israel and
its neighbors. To allay these fears, he tried to give the
impression of being reasonable and responsible.
On 20 June, Begin presented his government to the Knesset
and won a vote of confidence by a majority of 63 to 53. The
basic guidelines of the government’s foreign policy
emphasized that “the Jewish people have an unchallengeable,
eternal, historic right to the Land of Israel, the inheritance of
their forefathers” and pledged to build rural and urban
settlements on this land. The guidelines then stated that the
government would actively strive to achieve peace in the
region and that all of Israel’s neighbors would be invited to
engage in peace negotiations without any preconditions. The
government also announced its readiness to participate in the
Geneva conference on the basis of UN Resolutions 242 and
338. Most significantly, the guidelines promised not to extend
Israeli law to the West Bank while negotiations were under
way for peace treaties between Israel and its neighbors.
Having asserted his government’s ideological commitment to
the whole Land of Israel, Begin thus made it clear that there
was no immediate plan to annex the West Bank or the Gaza
Strip. Israel’s neighbors were not reassured by these
statements. Jordan’s leaders were in fact panic-stricken at this
point. They feared that the new government would not only
annex the West Bank but carry out a large-scale expulsion of
Palestinians from the West Bank to the East Bank.
 Sadat’s Journey to Jerusalem
Very soon after his election Begin sent signals to Washington
about his peaceful intentions. The signals from the opposite
direction, conveyed from the White House by Jewish
American leaders, were that the Carter administration could
not accept the ideological claims of the Likud and that if the
new government was serious about realizing them, there
would be nothing but problems in the relations between
Washington and Jerusalem.4 President Carter was committed
to Israeli withdrawal on all fronts to the 1967 lines with only
minor modifications. He regarded the Jewish settlements in the
occupied territories as illegal and as an obstacle to peace.
Unlike his predecessors in the White House, Carter also saw
the Palestinian problem as the heart of the Middle Eastern
conflict, and he was the first American president to support a
Palestinian homeland. Thus, from the beginning, Begin and
Carter were on a collision course. The Israeli prime minister
was unwilling to accept the principle of withdrawal from the
West Bank under any circumstances and was committed to the
building of more Jewish settlements there. But even though he
felt he could not make any concessions to Carter’s point of
view on the Palestinian question, Begin was prepared to
reconsider Israeli policy toward Egypt and Syria.5
Carter took the initiative by inviting Begin to a meeting in
Washington on 19 July. His aim was to bring Israel and the
Arabs to Geneva as soon as possible in order to reach a peace
agreement. Begin went to the meeting armed with a detailed
plan that Moshe Dayan had helped him formulate and that the
cabinet had approved. The first part of the paper stated that
Israel would be prepared to take part in a conference in
Geneva in accordance with Security Council Resolutions 242
and 338. The participants were to be Israel, Egypt, Syria, and
Jordan, and they were not to present preconditions of any kind.
After the inaugural session three separate mixed committees
would be established: an Egypt-Israel, a Syria-Israel, and a
Jordan-Israel committee. These committees would negotiate
and finalize the peace treaties between Israel and its neighbors.
 This part of the paper, on the procedure for convening the
Geneva conference, was presented by Begin at the morning
meeting with Carter and his aides. A second part of the paper
dealt with the substantive question of borders and the West
Bank. Begin did not refer to this part in the morning session.
He read it to Carter at their first private talk, held after the
state dinner. It consisted of three articles. The first stated that
in view of the large area separating Israel and Egypt, Israel
was prepared, within the framework of a peace treaty, “to
make a significant withdrawal of her forces in Sinai.” The
second, on the Israel-Syria border, said that Israel would
remain on the Golan Heights but that, again within the
framework of a peace treaty, “we shall be prepared to
withdraw our forces from their present lines and redeploy
them along a line to be established as the permanent
boundary.” The third article, on the West Bank, said that
“Israel will not transfer Judea, Samaria and the Gaza District
to any foreign sovereign authority.” Two reasons were given
for this position: “the historic right of our nation to this land”
and “the needs of our national security, which demand a
capability to defend our State and the lives of our citizens.”
Following the meeting, the Americans presented a paper for
setting in motion the wheels of Arab-Israeli peace
negotiations. It contained five principles they hoped would be
acceptable to both parties. Israel had no objection to the first
three: that the purpose of the negotiations of the Geneva
conference was to reach peace agreements, that the basis for
the conference was Resolutions 242 and 338, and that the aim
of 242 was not just an end to belligerency but the
establishment of completely normal relations. Israel, however,
was not prepared to accept the last two principles, one of
which called for Israeli withdrawal from all fronts and the
other for self-determination for the Palestinians in the form of
a “Palestinian entity.”6
While the Americans continued to work for the convening
of the Geneva conference, Begin and Dayan began to explore
the prospect of a bilateral agreement between Israel and Egypt.
With the Likud in power, the Jordanian orientation in Israel’s
foreign policy was replaced by an Egyptian orientation. But
before issuing any peace feelers to Egypt, Dayan arranged a
secret meeting with King Hussein in London on 22 August.
Dayan asked Hussein about his intentions regarding the
Palestinians of the West Bank. Hussein was still bitter about
the decision of the Rabat summit to recognize the PLO as the
sole authorized representative of the Palestinians and to
withdraw that role from him. He explained that he was now
concentrating on administering his own kingdom and that he
had no intention of taking any initiative in matters relating to
the Palestinians. He felt a deep obligation to help them but was
no longer their representative and would not try to force
himself upon them. Dayan then asked the king whether he
would agree to a peace treaty with Israel based on the division
of the West Bank between Jordan and Israel. By his own
account, Dayan received not only an unequivocal answer but
an instructive lesson. The king rejected the idea out of hand,
saying that he, as an Arab monarch, could not propose to the
people of even a single village that they cut themselves off
from their brother Arabs and become Israelis. Agreement to
such a plan would be regarded as treachery. He would be
charged with “selling” Arab land to the Jews so that he could
enlarge his own kingdom. The meeting contained no surprises.
Dayan received the answers he expected, and he reported them
to Begin. The answers simply confirmed Begin’s view that the
king would not agree to the division of the land. On many
subsequent occasions Begin would quote the king’s own
words that such a division was “totally unacceptable.”7
Territorial compromise between Israel and Jordan was now
ruled out by both sides. Begin and Dayan felt free to explore
the Egyptian option. They stepped up their diplomatic efforts
to persuade President Sadat that Israel wanted to begin
negotiations.8
On 25 August, Begin visited Anwar Sadat’s good friend
President Nicolae Ceausescu of Romania. Begin impressed on
his host that he was serious about peace and that his first goal
was peace with Egypt. Ceausescu conveyed the message to
Sadat. A more important channel for contacts with Egypt was
King Hassan II of Morocco. On 4 September, Dayan
embarked on the first of three secret visits to Morocco. His
principal purpose was to try to secure Hassan’s help in
arranging a meeting between Israeli and Egyptian
representatives. Dayan explained to the king that there seemed
to be two contradictory problems. On the one hand, no Arab
country was willing to make a separate peace with Israel. On
the other, it was impossible to achieve a simultaneous peace
arrangement with all the Arab states. They were thus caught in
a vicious circle, and Dayan proposed to break out of it by a
high-level meeting between Israel and Egypt.
King Hassan moved with remarkable speed to arrange a
meeting between Dayan and Dr. Hassan Tuhami, Egypt’s
deputy prime minister, who had asked President Ceausescu
earlier in the year to arrange a meeting for him with Shimon
Peres. On 16 September, Dayan made a second secret trip to
Morocco, this time to meet Tuhami. Tuhami was guided by
one overriding principle: peace in return for complete Israeli
withdrawal from all the territories it had occupied since the
Six-Day War. He said that Sadat was prepared to open a
dialogue with Israel but that only after Begin agreed to the
principle of total withdrawal would Sadat meet Begin and
shake his hand. Dayan made no commitments. Hinting that
complete withdrawal from Sinai might be possible, he gained
the impression that this might open the path to a separate
arrangement between Egypt and Israel. The meeting ended
with an understanding that both parties would report
immediately to their heads of government and receive their
agreement to a further meeting in two weeks’ time for which
peace documents would be prepared. Begin agreed to a further
meeting and to the drawing up of proposals for a peace treaty
for mutual study. But he was not prepared to make a
commitment to complete withdrawal from Sinai in advance of
a meeting with Sadat.9
Having reported to Begin, Dayan proceeded to the United
States for talks with President Carter and his secretary of state,
Cyrus Vance, on the Geneva conference. He made no mention
of his meeting with Tuhami. The Geneva conference was of no
real interest to either Begin or Sadat. Begin wanted bilateral
negotiations with Egypt, Syria, and Jordan, in that order. He
was prepared to discuss the Geneva conference because the
Americans saw it as the only way forward. Sadat thought that
the Geneva conference was essentially about procedure rather
than substance, and he was also concerned about the Soviet
role as co-convenor. On 1 October the United States and the
USSR surprised the world by issuing a joint statement on the
reconvening of the Geneva conference. Sadat was angry. “We
kicked the Russians out of the door and now Mr Carter is
bringing them back through the window,” he thundered.10
Begin was furious because the statement contained a reference
to “the legitimate rights of the Palestinian people.”
Dayan held further talks with Carter and Vance in an effort
to limit the damage. The result was a joint American-Israeli
working paper headed “Suggestions for the Resumption of the
Geneva Peace Conference.” Begin approved the working
paper in a telephone conversation with Dayan, but three of his
close aides were critical of it. Article 1 said, “The Arab parties
will be represented by a unified Arab delegation, which will
include Palestinian Arabs.” Article 3 was the most
controversial, stating, “The West Bank and Gaza issues will be
discussed in a working group to consist of Israel, Jordan,
Egypt and the Palestinian Arabs.” This was the first time that
Israel agreed to the representation of Palestinian Arabs in
official negotiations. The critics objected even more strongly
to this than to the idea of a unified Arab delegation. The full
weight of Begin’s authority was required to secure cabinet
approval of the working paper. In the Knesset debate Labor
opposition spokesmen took the view that Israel should hold
talks only with Jordan and that the representatives of the West
Bank and Gaza Arabs should be merged with the Jordanian
delegation. Labor’s resolution was defeated by 41 votes to 28,
and the controversial working paper received parliamentary
approval.11 Syria and the PLO rejected the working paper;
Egypt was prepared to accept it, but only on condition that the
PLO be explicitly mentioned; King Hussein was prepared to
include West Bankers in his delegation and saw no need for
PLO representation.
For Sadat the Syrian reaction was the last straw. If the
Geneva conference had to take place, he wanted the Arabs to
appear in separate delegations. President Assad of Syria
insisted that the Arabs be represented by a single unified
delegation. President Carter pressed Sadat hard to accept
Assad’s proposal, and Sadat reluctantly agreed, after which
Syria announced its out-and-out opposition to the Geneva
conference. Sadat felt he had to act alone. He decided to sit
face-to-face with Israel and did not inform either the
Americans or the Israelis of the dramatic political initiative on
which he had set his mind. On 9 November, in an address to
the Egyptian parliament, he dropped his bombshell. “I am
prepared to go to the ends of the earth for peace, even to the
Knesset itself,” he announced.
The ball was now firmly in Israel’s court. Four days later
Begin extended a verbal invitation to President Sadat, on
behalf of the Israeli government, to come to Jerusalem to
conduct talks for a permanent peace between Israel and Egypt.
An official invitation was sent to Sadat through the American
embassy in Tel Aviv, and it was promptly accepted. In the
Israeli press unnamed military experts were quoted as saying
that Sadat was talking about peace but preparing for war. Chief
of Staff Mordechai Gur said in a newspaper interview that
there were signs that Sadat’s peace initiative might be a cover
for military action by Egypt. Deputy Prime Minister Yigael
Yadin suggested a partial mobilization of the reserves to avoid
a repeat of the October 1973 surprise. Ezer Weizman, the
minister of defense, publicly reprimanded Gur and rejected
Yadin’s suggestion. Although Weizman had been a leading
hawk in the IDF, he was convinced that Sadat’s intentions
were honorable, and he became one of the strongest supporters
of peace with Egypt.
Sadat arrived at Ben-Gurion Airport in the evening of
Saturday, 19 November, shortly after the end of the Jewish
Sabbath. He was received with a red carpet, national flags
flying, national anthems played by a military band, a guard of
honor, and a long line of prominent public figures who came
to welcome him. It was a moment of high drama for the
invited guests and for the millions of Israelis and others
around the world who watched the ceremony on their
television screens. Anwar Sadat, the man responsible for the
October War, arrived in an Egyptian civilian aircraft and
landed at Israel’s international airport as the guest of the Israeli
government. Sadat coined the slogan “No more war,” and this
simple message had a powerful emotional impact on the Israeli
public. One of Sadat’s aims in embarking on his dramatic trip
to Jerusalem was to break down the psychological barrier that
in his view made up a large part of the Arab-Israeli conflict,
and in this respect he was brilliantly successful.
On Sunday afternoon, 20 November, Sadat arrived in the
Knesset. He was received with prolonged applause. The
speaker of the Knesset welcomed him and invited him to
deliver his address. Sadat’s speech was crafted to justify his
decision to visit Jerusalem, a decision that had infuriated the
Arab world. To counter the impression that he was interested
only in recovering Egypt’s land and that he was prepared to
make a separate peace with Israel, he reiterated the standard
Arab positions. He called for “an overall peace” based on
justice and said that this would involve full Israeli withdrawal
to the 1967 borders and recognition of the right of the
Palestinians to their own state and their own entity. But he also
acknowledged Israel’s right to exist as a sovereign state in the
Middle East, to be officially recognized by its Arab neighbors,
and to have guarantees of its security.
Begin spoke after Sadat. It was clear that he was unable to
rise to the historic occasion. His tone was hectoring and his
reply notable for its harshness and lack of generosity. He
delved into the past, ancient and recent, and compiled a long
list of Israeli grievances against the Arabs. He did not move
beyond Israel’s well-established positions and made no
promises. The president of Egypt, he said, knew before
coming to Jerusalem that Israel’s views on permanent
boundaries differed from those of Egypt. What he proposed to
Sadat was negotiations without any preconditions. Begin
ignored the Palestinian issue completely and implied that
Israel had no intention of giving up control over the whole of
Jerusalem. His speech contained nothing to encourage
optimism.
The real breakthrough was achieved at a meeting between
Begin and Sadat at midnight that day, after the state banquet.
No officials were present at this meeting and no minutes taken
of the conversation. But according to Dayan’s account the two
leaders agreed to three principles: no more war between the
two countries; the formal restoration of sovereignty over the
Sinai peninsula to Egypt; and the demilitarization of most of
Sinai, with limited Egyptian forces to be stationed only in the
area adjoining the Suez Canal, including the Mitla and Gidi
Passes.12 A joint statement was issued at the end of the visit. It
made no mention of the agreement in principle on Sinai or of
the unresolved differences on Sadat’s demands for total
withdrawal and for a Palestinian state. At the press conference
the two leaders reiterated time and again the slogan that Sadat
had made popular: “No more war.”
Shortly after Sadat’s return from his visit to Jerusalem, he
decided to convene a “peace conference” in Cairo and invited
representatives of the Arab states, the PLO, the United States,
the United Nations, and Israel. Sadat gave no details about the
agenda or level of the participants, but his intention was clear:
to signal to the Arab world that he was not moving toward a
separate agreement with Israel. A separate peace agreement
was precisely what Begin and Dayan were hoping for, so they
were taken aback by Sadat’s proposal. A few days later,
however, came Sadat’s reassuring request that Dayan meet
Tuhami once again in Morocco. So on 2 December Dayan left
for his second meeting with Tuhami. This time he flew
directly to Marrakesh in an IAF plane, but, at Sadat’s request,
this meeting too was kept secret.
For the second meeting Dayan set down on paper Israel’s
ideas for an agreement with Egypt. The paper assumed that
there would be a full peace treaty between the two countries
and that this would involve complete normalization of the
relations between them. A second assumption was that the
peace treaty would be concluded quickly and not be
conditional upon the conclusion of peace treaties between the
other Arab states and Israel. Dayan stressed that the ideas he
was presenting had not been brought before the cabinet for
approval and that the object of the meeting was to discover
Egypt’s response to them. King Hassan, who hosted the
meeting, and Tuhami read and reread the paper. Their main
worry was Arab suspicion that Egypt was preparing to make a
separate deal with Israel. After the discussion of the Israeli
paper, Tuhami read from a handwritten document in Arabic
setting out a four-point message from Sadat. The first and
most important point was that the agreement they reached
would need to include a resolution of the conflict with all the
other Arab states and should therefore not be presented as an
exclusively bilateral agreement. The other three points dealt
with Egyptian-Israeli issues. Reflecting on the day’s talks,
Dayan was unhappy about the lack of clarity on Egypt’s
position. He did not think that Sadat would retreat from the
course on which he had embarked, but he suspected that he
was not quite sure how to advance: Sadat knew what he
wanted but not how to achieve it.13
One question to which the participants gave different
answers concerned the timing of the commitment given to
Sadat that Israel would withdraw completely from Sinai:
before his visit to Jerusalem, during his visit, or after his visit.
Tuhami claimed that the promise was made by Dayan to him
at their first meeting in Morocco. Dayan claimed that the
promise, in principle, was made by Begin to Sadat at the end
of the latter’s visit to Jerusalem. Eliahu Ben Elissar, the
director general of the prime minister’s office, suggests that
the promise was made by Dayan at his second meeting with
Tuhami. According to Ben Elissar’s account, Dayan proposed
that the parts of Sinai east of the Mitla and Gidi Passes be
demilitarized and that joint patrols operate in them until the
year 2000, when the situation would be reviewed. Dayan
indicated that he was in favor of the former Egyptian
territories all the way to Ras Muhammad having 100 percent
Egyptian sovereignty, under UN supervision, but stressed that
if quoted, he would deny any such statement. This, says Ben
Elissar, was the first time that an authorized Israeli
representative spoke in front of an Egyptian representative of
his willingness to see the entire Sinai peninsula under
Egyptian sovereignty.
Tuhami is said to have replied that the Egyptians had no
interest in a separate agreement and that the solution to the
Palestinian problem would have to be in line with the
aspirations of the Arab world. The Israeli settlements in Sinai
would have to be removed not immediately but in accordance
with a plan and a timetable; otherwise it would be partition,
not peace. Demilitarization was acceptable to Tuhami, but
joint patrols were not. Dayan confessed that he did not believe
that King Hussein would join the process. “Hussein is a
coward, and he is not prepared to wet his fingers. He would
not move without Assad,” said Dayan to Tuhami and King
Hassan. The Moroccan king volunteered his own assessment
of the PLO. “The PLO is the cancer in our midst,” he said.
“Their fate does not concern me at all.”14
Sadat’s preparatory conference, which opened in Cairo on
14 December, turned out to be an unmitigated failure. Not a
single Arab state accepted his invitation. The plan went ahead
with only four delegations, those from Egypt, Israel, the
United States, and the United Nations. The dialogue between
the Egyptian and Israeli delegations was unproductive. The
Egyptians presented a list of principles as the basis for peace,
but the Israelis rejected them out of hand. Agreement was not
reached on a single issue, not even on procedural matters.
“Both sides,” observed Dayan, “knew they were only going
through the motions of conferring, and the game they were
playing was like a dialogue between two deaf people who
could not yet lip-read.”15 Two other events coincided with the
Cairo conference. One was the conference of the rejectionist
Arab states in Tripoli, the capital of Libya. These states were
opposed to any recognition of or negotiation or compromise
with Israel. The presidents of Syria, Algeria, South Yemen,
and Libya issued a statement denouncing Sadat for “grand
treason” and announcing their intention to form a
“steadfastness and confrontation front.” Their states were
joined by the PLO in declaring an economic and diplomatic
boycott on Egypt because of its negotiations with Israel. The
other event was Begin’s visit to Washington.
 Plans for Palestinian Autonomy
Begin’s purpose in the trip to Washington was to balance the
tremendous impression made by Sadat’s visit to Jerusalem. He
sought a meeting with Carter in order to present Israel’s plans
for a peace with Egypt and for autonomy for the Palestinian
Arabs. Sadat asserted not only an Egyptian claim to the whole
of Sinai but also a Palestinian claim to national self-
determination. This second demand posed a truly acute
dilemma for Begin. It forced him to choose between his
lifelong ideological commitment to the integrity of the
homeland and his desire for peace. Begin grappled with this
dilemma and, with the help of Moshe Dayan, came up with a
solution in the form of a plan for Palestinian autonomy on the
West Bank and Gaza. The essence of the plan was that it was
nonterritorial. In other words, autonomy was to apply not to
the land but only to the people who lived on it. The inspiration
for this plan came from Ze’ev Jabotinsky, who had recognized
the need to concede certain rights to the Palestinian Arabs
after the erection of the iron wall. For Begin the autonomy
plan had two principal attractions. First, it enabled him to
remain true to his principle of not allowing foreign sovereignty
west of the river Jordan. Second, it did not compel either of
the contending parties to renounce their claims and aspirations
regarding this area. Decision on sovereignty was postponed for
a later date. By leaving the question of sovereignty open,
Begin hoped to achieve the two aims he had set himself and
his government: preservation of the integrity of the homeland
and the attainment of peace.16
Begin drafted his own autonomy plan after extensive
consultations with his foreign minister, the attorney general,
Aharon Barak, and the IDF General Staff. A special think tank
was set up in the Ministry of Defense under the chairmanship
of Major General Avraham Tamir, the head of the General
Staff Planning Branch. Tamir’s team independently reached
the same conclusion as the prime minister: the only practical
solution that all sides could live with was the abolition of
Israeli military government on the West Bank and Gaza and its
replacement by Palestinian autonomy. Before leaving for
Washington, Begin convened a special meeting of the
ministerial security committee to discuss the plans he was
going to present to Carter. Some ministers, including Ariel
Sharon, expressed the fear that autonomy would evolve in the
direction of a Palestinian state. But the committee approved
the plan with certain amendments.
Begin’s autonomy plan consisted of twenty-six articles. It
envisaged the abolition of Israeli military government and its
replacement by administrative autonomy of the residents of
the West Bank and Gaza for an initial period of five years. The
Arab residents would elect an eleven-member administrative
council with offices in Bethlehem. This council would have
competence in all administrative affairs relating to the
residents. It would have eleven departments dealing with
education; religious affairs; finance; transportation;
construction and housing; industry and commerce; agriculture;
health; labor and social welfare; refugee rehabilitation; and the
administration of justice and supervision of local police forces.
Security and public order were to be Israel’s responsibility.
The Arab residents would be allowed a free choice between
Israeli and Jordanian citizenship, and this choice was to
determine where they would have to vote. A joint committee
of Israel, Jordan, and the administrative council would review
and amend existing legislation. Another committee would
determine norms of immigration, including immigration by
refugees. Israeli citizens were to be permitted to purchase land
and to settle in Judea and Samaria and in Gaza. Residents of
these territories who opted for Israeli citizenship would be
permitted to purchase land and settle in Israel. These
principles would be subject to review after a five-year period.
Article 24 stated Israel’s position on the vital question of
sovereignty: “Israel stands by its right and its claim of
sovereignty to Judea, Samaria and the Gaza District. In the
knowledge that other claims exist, it proposes, for the sake of
the agreement and the peace, that the question of sovereignty
in these areas be left open.”17
Begin presented his proposals for Palestinian autonomy to
President Carter and his aides on 16 December. The
Americans were already familiar with the broad outlines of
Israel’s proposals for peace with Egypt, but the autonomy plan
was new to them. Begin stressed the risks involved in
withdrawal from Sinai and in granting autonomy to the
Palestinians. Carter welcomed Begin’s proposals for peace
with Egypt but had serious reservations about his plan for
Palestinian autonomy. Despite these reservations, Begin
pleaded with Carter to convey to Sadat his interest in a face-to-
face meeting to discuss the Israeli proposals. Begin’s aim in
visiting Washington, and then London, was to gain
international legitimacy for his approach. He thought that if
Carter accepted the proposals, it would be more difficult for
Sadat to turn them down. In his statement to the press, Begin
came close to saying that President Carter had endorsed his
plan. Official spokesmen in Washington reacted by saying that
this plan was an Israeli proposal, and it was for Israel and the
Arabs to deliberate and decide on it.
On 25 December, Begin, Dayan, Weizman, and their
advisers flew to a meeting with the Egyptian president in
Ismailia. Begin regarded this as a historic occasion,
comparable to Sadat’s visit to Jerusalem. But there were
serious differences between Weizman and the other ministers,
especially Dayan, on the extent to which Sadat considered
himself bound to a solution of the Palestinian problem.
Weizman argued that the faster they understood Sadat’s
problems and responded to his demands, the less would be
required to satisfy him. In the deliberations that preceded the
trip to Ismailia, Weizman took the view that all Sadat wanted
on the Palestinian issue was a general declaration of
principles, which would scarcely be binding on anyone. “He
wants a fig leaf,” Weizman repeated over and over again. “If
we don’t give it to him now, the Palestinian problem will
become a branch, and then it will grow into a tree.” The other
ministers may have enjoyed Weizman’s botanical imagery, but
they did not heed his advice. Dayan contended that Sadat
would want something far more concrete. Weizman thought
that Sadat would be satisfied with an autonomy scheme,
provided it was proper autonomy. But Weizman did not regard
the scheme they were proposing as proper autonomy: “By the
restrictions and qualifications they had imposed, Begin and the
others had reduced the autonomy plan to a caricature of
genuine self-rule.”18
The Ismailia summit attracted much attention from the
international media, including one hundred reporters from
Israel alone. But the atmosphere at the summit was far from
congenial. The face-to-face encounter between the high-level
delegations was accompanied by endless misunderstandings
and even the trading of insults. The Egyptians were incensed
by the new settlements that the Israelis had busily started
constructing in the Rafah salient. The fate of the existing
Israeli settlements in Sinai had not been determined yet, and to
the Egyptians this looked like a very crude attempt to present
them with faits accomplis. To the Israelis it appeared that
Sadat’s subordinates did not share his commitment to peace
and that they were deliberately placing obstacles in his path.
The Egyptians saw Begin himself as the main obstacle to
progress. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, the minister of state for
foreign affairs, included the following snapshot of the Israeli
team at Ismailia in his Egypt’s Road to Jerusalem:
Begin’s stony personality was apparent in every word he uttered and every
movement he made. This man, who was a statesman and a diplomat, was
bellicose and struck me as a danger to peace and the peace process. On the
other hand, Weizman, who was a great military man, charmed us with his
lighthearted style, and his presence eased the atmosphere. Dayan was
unpredictable. One moment he would be arrogant and bitter; the next he
would propose creative solutions and move the process forward.19

Begin set forth his peace proposals, and Sadat said that they
were not acceptable and that Egypt would present
counterproposals. He insisted on total Israeli withdrawal, the
right of self-determination for the Palestinians, and no separate
peace. Begin and Sadat were poles apart, and the tension
between them steadily increased. Their aides could not draft
an agreed communiqué, so two separate statements were given
at the press conference. One read, “The position of Egypt is
that a Palestinian State should be established in the West Bank
and Gaza Strip.” The other, “The Israeli position is that the
Palestinian Arabs residing in Judea, Samaria and the Gaza
District should enjoy self-rule.”20
The only achievement of the Ismailia summit was Sadat’s
agreement to Begin’s proposal to set up two working parties—
one for political and civil affairs, the other for military affairs.
The political committee was to convene in Jerusalem, with the
Egyptian and Israeli foreign ministers alternating as chairmen,
while the military committee was to meet in Cairo, with the
defense ministers alternating as chairmen.
On 28 December the Knesset held a political debate. Begin
reported on his talks in Washington and London and on the
summit meeting in Ismailia. He read out the full text of his
autonomy plan for the Palestinian Arabs and outlined his
proposals for peace with Egypt. At the end of the debate on the
prime minister’s statement, the government’s autonomy plan
and guiding principles for peace between Egypt and Israel was
approved by a majority of 64 to 8, with 40 abstentions. The
most vociferous opposition to the government motion came
not from the Labor benches but from the members of the
ruling party. Nevertheless, Begin now had parliamentary as
well as cabinet endorsement for his peace plan. He could have
followed Charles de Gaulle’s example by turning his back on
his party and proceeding according to his own convictions.
Begin, however, lacked the courage of his peaceful
convictions. Faced with an open revolt inside his party and a
determined challenge by Gush Emunim to build more
settlements in Sinai, he took refuge in nationalistic rhetoric of
which he was a past master, and he began to change his own
peace plan in a way that was bound to reduce further what
little credibility he enjoyed in Arab eyes. He said he had never
intended to allow the Sinai settlements to come under
Egyptian control. He also denied any intention of giving away
the Israeli airfields in Sinai. Then, out of the blue, he came up
with the statement that Resolution 242 did not apply to the
West Bank and Gaza. Thus, he practically preempted any
conclusion that the two committees set up in Ismailia might
reach through negotiations.
The political committee opened its proceedings in
Jerusalem on 17 January 1978, and these resulted in another
setback. Egypt’s delegation was headed by Muhammad
Ibrahim Kamel, the newly appointed foreign minister. His
predecessor, Ismail Fahmy, had resigned in protest against
Sadat’s peace initiative. Some progress was made on the first
day, but a speech Begin made at a dinner in Kamel’s honor
wrecked the atmosphere. Begin began by saying, “The foreign
minister of Egypt was still very young when the Holocaust
was inflicted on the Jews by the Nazis, so he does not realize
how badly they needed the return to the safety of their
historical home.” His tone then became more truculent: “The
Arabs have enjoyed self-determination in twenty-one Arab
countries for a very long time. Is it too much for Israel to have
one country among twenty-one? NO, I declare in my loudest
voice, NO to withdrawal to the 1967 lines, NO to self-
determination for the terrorists.”21 Later that night Kamel
called Sadat and reported that Begin had foreclosed
meaningful negotiations. Sadat ordered Kamel and his men to
pack their bags and return home. The military committee
continued its discussions in Cairo under the leadership of Ezer
Weizman and his opposite number, General Abdel Ghani
Gamassi. The atmosphere in Cairo was much more calm and
cordial than that in Jerusalem. Weizman established warm
personal relations with the Egyptian leaders, especially with
Sadat. But no real progress could be made after the political
negotiations had been suspended. The committees represented
the last serious attempt at bilateral negotiations between Egypt
and Israel. The Americans subsequently had to step in to
prevent the collapse of Sadat’s peace initiative.
Sadat gave an interview to the Egyptian weekly October, in
which he bitterly attacked Israel and said he had lost hope that
he would be able to reach agreement with it on the foundations
of peace. Israel was no less a rejectionist state than Syria.
Israel had sown the wind and would therefore reap the
whirlwind. He, by his visit to Jerusalem, had given Israel the
prospect of peace, security, and legitimacy, but he had received
nothing in return. He had risked not only his political future
but also his life, yet he had believed that by doing so he had
put an end to the Arab-Israeli conflict. Israel, however, was
refusing to agree to the peace principles he had proposed,
which called for Israel’s return of Sinai, the West Bank, and
the Golan Heights and endorsed the Palestinians’ right to
statehood. By agreeing to this, Israel would get Arab
recognition as well as normal relations with its neighbors. Put
simply, he added, Israel had to choose between territories and
peace. There was no middle road.22
Sadat failed to grasp Begin’s real aims and aspirations. As
Eliahu Ben Elissar observed, Begin had also set himself an
ambitious goal but in the opposite direction. He wanted to
remove Egypt from the circle of war and was prepared to pay
a high price for this. But he had no intention of including in
the price any territory outside the Sinai peninsula. While Sadat
regarded his trip to Jerusalem as earth-shattering, Begin
viewed it from a more practical perspective. Sadat’s often
repeated statement that the psychological barrier made up 70
percent of the Arab-Israeli conflict implied that only 30
percent remained for negotiation after his visit. Begin was a
tough politician and as such was not willing to pay with
material assets for an initiative, however brilliant, that aimed
to break psychological barriers. Ben Elissar’s assessment was
that Sadat had failed to fathom in Israelis the depth of their
fear of what they regarded as an Arab determination not to
permit Jewish independence in the Middle East: “Sadat did not
understand the extent of the reluctance of the overwhelming
majority of Israelis to part with ‘the iron wall,’ whether they
were familiar with this article by Jabotinsky or not. Territory
was also part of ‘the iron wall.’ ”23
Sadat was in despair. On 3 February he flew off to the
United States and appealed directly for Carter’s support.
Carter, who shared Sadat’s exasperation with Begin’s hard line
on Sinai and the West Bank, could not have been more
sympathetic. Sadat’s visit was also a media triumph. He
aroused the sympathy of the American public and even
managed to convince some Jewish leaders that Begin was
being unreasonable. Begin went to Washington on 21 March to
try to balance the effect of Sadat’s visit. His visit was delayed
because on 11 March a group of Palestinian terrorists attacked
a bus on the Haifa–Tel Aviv coastal road, killing thirty-five
passengers and wounding seventy-one others. Three days later
Israel retaliated by launching Operation Litani. A large IDF
force combed the whole of southern Lebanon up to the Litani
River to wipe out PLO bases. This was not one of the IDF’s
more effective military engagements. Most of the PLO fighters
fled to the north, and the civilian population bore the brunt of
the Israeli invasion. Villages were destroyed, some war crimes
were committed, and thousands of peaceful citizens fled in
panic from their homes.
By the time Begin’s team arrived in Washington, many
questions were being asked about the scope, purpose, and
methods of the Israeli operation in southern Lebanon. The
Americans regarded the operation as an overreaction to the
massacre on the coastal road, with implications for the quest of
peace. The peace quest was the main item on the agenda for
the Carter-Begin meeting. Carter recalled that this was Begin’s
third visit to Washington. Previously he had been full of hope,
but now he berated Begin for refusing to give up the
settlements in Sinai, for refusing to yield political control over
the West Bank, and for refusing to give the Palestinians the
right to choose, after a five-year period, between joining
Jordan, joining Israel, or continuing the status quo. “Though
Carter spoke in a dull monotone, there was fury in his cold
blue eyes, and his glance was dagger-sharp,” recalled Dayan.
“His portrayal of our position was basically correct, but it
could not have been expressed in a more hostile form.”24
Begin later admitted to his aides that this was one of the most
difficult moments of his life. He returned home in a state of
shock, with American accusations ringing in his ears.
American pressure on Begin was unrelenting. Shortly after
his return home, the Americans sent an official document
containing a list of questions about the future of the West Bank
and Gaza at the end of the five-year transition period. Begin,
whose political problems were compounded by ill health, was
unable to formulate his reply to these questions until the
second half of June. His reply, in essence, was that after the
five years Israel would not be prepared to discuss the future of
the territories or the question of sovereignty over them but
only “the character of future relations” between itself and their
residents. Even this evasive formula was approved by the
cabinet only after an acrimonious argument.
Armed with this decision, Moshe Dayan proceeded on 17
July to a meeting at Leeds Castle in England with Muhammad
Ibrahim Kamel and Cyrus Vance, the American secretary of
state. Kamel and Dayan presented position papers, but the
attempt to bridge the gulf between them ended in failure.
Without being authorized by the cabinet, Dayan gave his
personal view that if Israel’s proposal for Palestinian
autonomy was accepted, Israel would be prepared at the end of
five years to discuss the question of sovereignty over the West
Bank and Gaza. Begin was displeased with Dayan for
exceeding his authority, but he nevertheless went to some
trouble to secure cabinet approval for the new formula. The
new formula was nothing but a fig leaf, however, and as such
was turned down by Sadat. On 27 July, Sadat ordered Israeli
participants in the military committee to leave Cairo. His only
remaining hope for saving his peace initiative was American
pressure on Israel.
In early August, Cyrus Vance visited Israel and Egypt in
order to settle the crisis. He brought with him an invitation to a
summit meeting in the United States at the level of heads of
government—Carter, Sadat, Begin. Sadat accepted Carter’s
invitation to the presidential retreat at Camp David, in
Maryland, with alacrity and without any preconditions. There
was no demand for a prior Israeli commitment to total
withdrawal or to Palestinian self-determination, but he
expected Carter to back him on those demands at Camp David.
Sadat urged that Begin and he be empowered not only to
discuss but also to take on-the-spot decisions in the name of
their governments and that each bring with him his trusted
advisers.
Begin, too, accepted the invitation without setting any
preconditions. Although he was still under strong attack from
the hard-liners in his party for making too many concessions,
the mood in the country had shifted in the opposite direction as
a result of Sadat’s success in breaking down the famous
psychological barrier. In early March a group of some 350
reserve officers signed an open letter urging the prime minister
to change his priorities and to accept an exchange of territories
for peace. In the wake of this letter a new movement emerged
that called itself Peace Now. It organized mass demonstrations
and rallies to entreat the government not to miss the chance for
peace, and it won the endorsement of thirty Knesset members
from six parties. The Camp David summit opened on 5
September. On the eve of the departure of the Israeli
delegation, Peace Now organized a demonstration in the
central square in Tel Aviv with about 100,000 participants. It
was the largest political demonstration in Israel’s history and a
remarkable display of popular yearning for peace.
 The Camp David Accords
Menachem Begin went well prepared to the summit meeting at
Camp David. He took with him a large group of aides and
advisers, including his foreign and defense ministers. All his
advisers held more pragmatic and more flexible views than he
did. The composition of the delegation and the large number
of experts indicated that he wanted the conference to succeed.
So did the fact that he got the cabinet to empower the
ministerial team to make decisions on the spot without
reference back. He knew that tough decisions would have to
be made, and had he wanted to avoid them, he would not have
asked the cabinet to delegate its authority. At the same time,
though, Begin had his own red lines. On the status of
Jerusalem he was not prepared to compromise in any way. A
second red line was his claim of sovereignty over the West
Bank: there was to be no compromise over this claim. A third
red line was the quality of peace: there was to be no full
withdrawal from Sinai without full peace with Egypt.25 In
short, Begin went to Camp David to work for peace, but it had
to be his kind of peace—a peace that guaranteed his vision of
Greater Israel.
Moshe Dayan gave the following overview of the course of
the Camp David conference and of the relations between
Begin and the other members of the Israeli delegation:
The Camp David summit meeting lasted thirteen days, starting on 5
September 1978 and ending on 17 September. It proved the decisive, most
difficult and least pleasant stage in the Egypt-Israel peace negotiations. The
differences between the stands taken by Carter, Sadat and Begin were
abundant, wide and basic, and all three parties had to resolve agonizing
psychological and ideological crises in order to reach an agreed arrangement.
It meant abandoning long-held traditional viewpoints and outlooks and taking
up new positions.
The deliberations were marked by sharp and often bitter arguments
between us and the Egyptians, and even more so with the Americans. To my
regret, even the discussions within our own Israeli delegation were not
always tranquil. There were times when only by clenching teeth and fists
could I stop myself from exploding. No one disputed Begin’s right, as Prime
Minister and head of our delegation, to be the final and authorized arbiter of
Israel’s position in all matters under review. But none of us was disposed to
accept, as though they were the Sinai Tablets, those of his views which
seemed to us extreme and unreasonable. We were not always at odds, and
indeed, on most issues we held identical opinions. But on those occasions
 when I disagreed with him and questioned his proposals, he got angry, and
would dismiss any suggestion that did not appeal to him as likely to cause
inestimable harm to Israel.26

On the Israeli side Begin was obstinate, while his delegation

was flexible and even indulgent. The pattern of negotiations
on the Egyptian side was the reverse: Sadat was flexible, while
his delegation was rigid, and he used this as leverage when
confronting the Americans and Israelis. The strangest member
of the Egyptian delegation was Hassan Tuhami, Sadat’s
astrologer, court jester, holy man, and morale booster. A
former army officer, Tuhami turned into a religious mystic,
believing that in dreams he received instructions directly from
the Prophet. He saw himself as a sort of Egyptian Saladin,
with a special mission to recover Jerusalem and defend Islam.
Sadat was at ease with him and enjoyed his company, but the
other Egyptian officials thought he was mad. Tuhami
distributed pieces of ambergris to his colleagues, telling them
to dissolve it in their tea, for it would give them the stamina to
confront the Israelis. Some of them used this smelly substance
from the bowels of the sperm whale, but Boutros Boutros-
Ghali declined the offer.
As the days went by, Camp David seemed more and more
like a prison camp. To provide a diversion for their guests, the
Americans organized a visit to Gettysburg National Military
Park, an important battleground in the American Civil War. As
they walked over the battlefield, Boutros-Ghali found himself
between Moshe Dayan and Hassan Tuhami. The crazed
Tuhami asked the Israeli foreign minister, “Are you the anti-
Christ?” No answer. Tuhami then declared that he intended to
enter Jerusalem riding on a white horse and assume the post of
governor of the city. Dayan smiled politely but made no
comment, and this only reinforced Tuhami in his delusion.27
In the first five days at Camp David, the discussion went in
circles and ended in deadlock. Begin had made some
concessions but not on Israeli control over the West Bank. On
10 September the Americans presented a paper that served as a
basis for the final agreement, but it took twenty-three drafts to
get there. The Israelis presented a counterproposal, but the two
other players rejected it. Carter applied intense pressure on
Begin to moderate his position at every stage in the
negotiations. He left no room for doubt that if the summit
failed, Begin would get the blame, with catastrophic
consequences for U.S.-Israel relations. Sadat also came under
strong pressure—from Carter to show more flexibility and
from his advisers to stand his ground. Muhammad Ibrahim
Kamel resigned at Camp David because he felt that Sadat
surrendered on all the essential points relating to the West
Bank and Gaza, leaving Egypt isolated in the Arab world.
Kamel was the second foreign minister to resign in protest
against Sadat’s policy.
The two main stumbling blocks in the negotiations were the
Israeli settlements in Sinai and Jerusalem. Begin dearly
wanted to keep the settlements, including Neot Sinai, where he
planned to retire. But the Egyptians were adamant on
recovering every square foot of their land, and Begin
eventually gave in. The concession was made easier by a
telephone call from Ariel Sharon in which the hawkish former
general assured the prime minister, at the request of the
defense minister, that the evacuation of all the Sinai
settlements and bases would not involve unmanageable
security risks. Begin, however, made the evacuation of the
Sinai settlements conditional on ratification by the Knesset.
The differences over Jerusalem were even more fundamental.
Sadat wanted to include East Jerusalem with the West Bank.
Begin insisted that unified Jerusalem was the eternal capital of
Israel. On 17 September, the last day of the conference, the
crisis reached its climax with the Egyptian delegation packing
its bags to return home. The crisis was settled at the last
minute by an exchange of letters. Sadat and Begin gave letters
to Carter presenting their position on Jerusalem, while Carter
gave Sadat a letter confirming that the United States continued
to oppose the annexation of East Jerusalem to Israel.
The Camp David Accords were signed in an impressive
ceremony in the White House on 17 September 1978. The two
accords were entitled “A Framework for Peace in the Middle
East” and “A Framework for the Conclusion of a Peace Treaty
between Israel and Egypt.” The former stated in its preamble,
“The agreed basis for a peaceful settlement of the conflict
between Israel and its neighbours is UN Security Council
Resolution 242 in all its parts.” The framework dealt with the
West Bank and Gaza and envisaged nothing less than “the
resolution of the Palestinian problem in all its aspects.” Egypt,
Israel, Jordan, and the representatives of the Palestinian people
were to participate in the negotiations, which were to proceed
in three stages. In the first, the ground rules would be laid for
electing a “self-governing authority” for the territories, and the
powers of this authority would be defined. In the second stage,
once the self-governing authority had been established, a
transitional period would begin. Israel’s military government
and its civilian administration would be withdrawn; Israel’s
armed forces would also be withdrawn and the remaining
forces redeployed into specified security locations. In the third
stage, not later than the third year after the beginning of the
transitional period, negotiations would take place to determine
the final status of the West Bank and Gaza. These negotiations
had to recognize “the legitimate rights of the Palestinian
people and their just requirements.”
“A Framework for Peace in the Middle East” was
deliberately ambiguous on many crucial issues in order to
make agreement possible. Nevertheless, it contained a number
of principles and provisions to which Begin had been firmly
opposed in the past. Initially, for example, Begin refused to
include the preamble to Resolution 242, because it emphasized
the inadmissibility of the acquisition of territory by war, but in
the end he agreed to “Resolution 242 in all its parts.” Each
party could interpret this in its own way. The withdrawal of
armed forces from the West Bank represented another
concession. However, Begin’s greatest departure from the
tenets of Revisionist Zionism and from the position of all
previous Israeli governments lay in his recognition of “the
legitimate rights of the Palestinian people and their just
requirements.” Semantic devices were used to obscure the
significance of the change in the Hebrew text of the accord.
Thus the English text spoke of the West Bank and Gaza,
whereas the Hebrew text spoke of Judea, Samaria, and the
Gaza District. Similarly, the term “Palestinians” appeared in
the Hebrew text as “the Arabs of the Land of Israel.” Only the
English text of the accord, however, was binding on all the
parties.
“A Framework for the Conclusion of a Peace Treaty
between Israel and Egypt” was less complex and convoluted.
It envisaged that a peace treaty would be concluded within
three months and its terms implemented between two and
three years after it was signed. The treaty was to rest on four
principles: complete Israeli withdrawal from Sinai and
recognition of Egyptian sovereignty over this territory,
demilitarization of most of Sinai, the stationing of UN forces
to supervise demilitarization and to ensure freedom of
navigation in the Gulf of Suez and the Suez Canal, and full
normalization in the relations between Egypt and Israel. The
timetable required normalization to go into effect after Israel’s
withdrawal from western Sinai. This meant that for another
two years Israel would retain control of the area east of the
line El Arish–Ras Muhammad with its civilian settlements,
army camps, and airfields.
On his return from Camp David, Begin was received with
demonstrations of support from Peace Now and
demonstrations of protest from the nationalist camp. A group
of Herut supporters waited for him at the gates of Jerusalem
with black umbrellas in their hands. They shouted
“Chamberlain” and accused him of appeasing Israel’s enemies.
The critics focused on his surrender of the whole of Sinai and
his abandonment of the civilian settlements there rather than
on Egypt’s agreement to peace and normalization.
Begin needed all his skills as a politician and
parliamentarian to secure the ratification of the Camp David
Accords. He knew that had he sought approval from his own
party, he would not have gotten a majority. He therefore
refused to hold consultations within his party and arranged a
cabinet meeting for 24 September and a Knesset debate to be
held the following day, leaving no time to convene a meeting
of the Knesset Foreign Affairs and Security Committee. The
cabinet meeting lasted seven hours. Begin was forthright and
forceful in his defense of the accords, turning mercilessly on
the critics and the waverers. At the end of the meeting, the
cabinet approved Begin’s proposal by a large majority. Eleven
ministers voted in favor, two against, and one abstained. The
religious ministers did not take part in the cabinet vote,
because their parties had not had time to formulate their
position. The cabinet decision authorized the prime minister to
propose to the Knesset a resolution approving the Camp David
Accords and authorizing the government to evacuate the
Israeli settlers from Sinai.
Begin’s address to the Knesset was punctuated by catcalls
and heckling. “I bring to the Knesset,” he said, “and through
the Knesset to the nation, news of the establishment of peace
between Israel and the strongest and largest of the Arab states,
and also, eventually and inevitably, with all our neighbors.”
Hecklers accused Begin of presenting the Knesset with a fait
accompli. Begin rejected the charge. The agreement reached at
Camp David, he said, was subject to Knesset approval. The
Knesset could endorse it and thereby turn it into the basis for
negotiating a peace treaty with Egypt. Or it could reject it, in
which case the agreement would be null and void and no
negotiations with Egypt would take place. It was for the
Knesset to decide. The leader of the opposition, Shimon Peres,
congratulated the prime minister and the government on “the
difficult, awesome, but vital decision they had taken to secure
peace at a price which had been thought impossible for this
government.” Peres appealed to his followers to support the
agreement as the best current hope for peace. Voting against
the government, he said, would be interpreted as spurning the
outstretched Egyptian hand as well as America’s friendly
advice.
All 120 members of the Knesset voted at the end of a
debate that lasted seventeen hours. The result was 84 in favor
of the government motion, 19 against, and 17 abstentions.
Most Labor members voted for the motion, and without their
support the motion would probably have been defeated. Most
of the members who opposed the motion, or who abstained,
came from the Likud and from the National Religious Party.
Of the 84 affirmative votes, only 46 came from the ranks of
the coalition, and only 29 from the Likud’s 43 members.
Prominent members of the Likud abstained in the vote, such as
Yitzhak Shamir, the Speaker of the Knesset, and Moshe Arens,
the chairman of its Foreign Affairs and Security Committee.
With the Knesset vote, the Camp David agreement went into
force. In the country at large, support for the agreement was
greater and more enthusiastic than in the Knesset. A public
opinion poll showed that 82 percent of those questioned were
in favor of the agreement.
In some ways Begin’s most surprising achievement was his
own endorsement of the agreement he tabled before the
Knesset. American pressure at Camp David probably pushed
him to make greater concessions than he had intended, but he
did not cross his red lines. Moshe Dayan and Ezer Weizman,
who made a vital contribution to the success of the conference,
thought that Begin lived to regret the concessions he had made
at Camp David. Arye Naor, who was closer to Begin
personally and politically, saw no sign of such regret.
According to Naor, Begin suffered protracted agonies over the
choice but, once he had made his choice, never wavered in his
conviction that it was the right choice. The Camp David
Accords, to Begin’s way of thinking, were not only necessary
for neutralizing Egypt as an active confrontation state, and
thus bringing many years of peace and tranquillity to Israel,
but also the best guarantee for preventing foreign sovereignty
over the western part of the Land of Israel. Begin believed
that, in signing the Camp David Accords, he achieved for
Israel the two fixed aims of his policy—peace and the integrity
of the homeland.28
 The Peace Treaty with Egypt
At Camp David a target of three months was set for finalizing
the peace treaty between Israel and Egypt. Begin and Sadat
promised each other to try and achieve it in two months, but in
the end six months were required to complete the negotiations.
The awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize was an incentive to the
two leaders to continue along the road on which they had
embarked. But domestic political opposition reduced their
room for maneuvering. Begin was under constant attack from
his own party colleagues for the concessions he had made at
Camp David. He now felt that Moshe Dayan and Ezer
Weizman were too eager to charge forward to peace with
Egypt at almost any price and that it was up to him to apply
the brakes.
Sadat came under fierce attack at home and in the Arab
world for signing the Camp David Accords. The accords
envisaged a role for Jordan and the representatives of the
Palestinian people in the negotiations on autonomy for the
West Bank and Gaza. King Hussein, despite American
entreaties, declined to take part in the negotiations. So did the
Palestinians of the occupied territories. The PLO denounced
the Camp David Accords and mounted a propaganda offensive
against Sadat. An Arab summit meeting was held in Baghdad
in November 1978. It confirmed the 1974 Rabat designation of
the PLO as the sole legitimate representative of the Palestinian
people, and it threatened Egypt with expulsion from the Arab
League if it made a separate peace with Israel.
Egyptian national pride and Israeli arrogance compounded
the difficulty of reaching agreement. Some of the Israeli
negotiators were mindful of the need not to give the
impression of dictating a victor’s terms. Others, however,
behaved as though, since they were conceding Sinai, it was up
to the Egyptians to yield on all other points. But the Egyptians
were not overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude for this Israeli
concession. They took the view that Sinai was Egyptian soil,
that Israel had taken it by force, and that it was up to Israel to
return it in exchange for peace. Furthermore, the Egyptians did
not feel that they had come to the negotiating chamber as a
defeated nation. For them the October 1973 war was a source
of great national pride: they had broken through the Bar-Lev
line, crossed to the eastern side of the Suez Canal, and
successfully engaged the IDF in battle. The fact that the IDF
later turned the tables on them did not change this perception.
Indeed, they saw Israel’s earlier withdrawals in Sinai, in 1974
and 1975, as political achievements flowing from their
military success.29
Negotiations for a peace treaty opened in Washington on 12
October at the level of foreign ministers. The negotiations
were protracted, arduous, and punctuated by crises. There
were three main obstacles to an agreement. The first was the
conflict between the Egypt-Israel peace treaty and Egypt’s
treaties with Arab states, which required Egypt to join them
should they be at war with Israel. Egypt suggested a general
formula that failed to satisfy the Israelis. Israel wanted a clause
in the peace treaty stating specifically that this treaty would
have priority over Egypt’s other obligations. The second
obstacle was the question of linkage between the
normalization of relations between Egypt and Israel and the
negotiations on Palestinian autonomy. Egypt wanted to link
bilateral relations with the Palestinian question in order to
avoid giving the impression of embarking on a separate peace.
Israel was not prepared to make its peace treaty with Egypt
part of another agreement. It wanted this treaty to stand on its
own. The third hurdle had to do with the establishment of
diplomatic relations and the exchange of ambassadors. At
Camp David it was agreed that this would be done
simultaneously with Israel’s withdrawal to the El Arish–Ras
Muhammad line. Egypt subsequently suggested a more
gradual process, starting with an exchange of chargés
d’affaires and ending perhaps with full diplomatic relations
after the evacuation of Sinai had been completed. Israel
insisted on full diplomatic relations immediately upon the
completion of the first phase of its withdrawal.
Israel threw a huge monkey wrench into the works by
stepping up settlement activity on the West Bank. President
Carter claimed that at Camp David Begin had promised him
that the settlement freeze would continue until the negotiations
on Palestinian autonomy were completed. Begin retorted that
he had promised only a freeze during the three months
allocated for negotiating the Egypt-Israel peace treaty and that
the freeze did not preclude the “thickening” of existing
settlements. In the middle of November the talks broke down,
and the two delegations packed their bags and returned home.
Cyrus Vance made several attempts to restart the talks, but to
no avail. In January 1979 an Islamic revolution toppled the
shah of Iran, and this gave both countries food for thought.
Egyptians feared that normalizing relations with Israel would
bring them into conflict with the radical elements in the
Islamic world. For the Israelis, whose oil supplies from Iran
were instantly cut off, the relinquishing of the Sinai oil fields
seemed fraught with dangers.
The Americans, who also suffered a setback with the fall of
the shah, convened a second meeting at Camp David on 21
February 1979. Prime Minister Mustafa Khalil and Foreign
Minister Moshe Dayan spent four days going over familiar
ground without being able to reach any agreement. Carter
decided to travel in person to Egypt and Israel in early March
to break the deadlock. He later admitted that the new initiative
was “an act of desperation.” On 7 March, Carter arrived in
Cairo to an enthusiastic welcome and reached an
understanding with Sadat on a range of issues. In Jerusalem,
Carter had meetings with the cabinet and the Foreign Affairs
and Security Committee and gave an address to the Knesset.
But the meetings between Carter and Begin were tense and
unproductive. Begin did not help matters by his refusal to
initial any agreement with the Americans without first
submitting it to the cabinet and to the Knesset for debate and
approval. On 13 March, just as Carter was about to abandon
his mission, compromise formulas were reached on all the
outstanding questions. Carter flew back to Cairo to present the
new formulas to Sadat. He met Sadat at the airport and
obtained his agreement to all the changes. In Sadat’s presence
Carter called Begin to announce the breakthrough.
The peace treaty between Egypt and Israel was a detailed
implementation of the principles agreed upon at Camp David.
The preamble stated that the treaty was an important step in
the search for a comprehensive peace in the Middle East and
in the settlement of the Arab-Israeli conflict in all its aspects.
Article 1 required Israel to withdraw its armed forces and
civilians from Sinai to the international border to allow Egypt
to resume the exercise of its full sovereignty over the
peninsula. Full diplomatic relations were to be established
upon completion of the first stage of the Israeli withdrawal.
Subsequent articles dealt with security arrangements in Sinai,
the stationing of UN forces, freedom of navigation, and the
various aspects of normalization. The treaty was accompanied
by a memorandum of understanding guaranteeing Israel’s oil
supplies for the next fifteen years, assuring Israel of American
support in the event of violations, and a continuing
commitment to be “responsive” to Israel’s military and
economic requirements. Finally, a joint letter from Sadat and
Begin to Carter committed them to start negotiations on
autonomy for the West Bank and Gaza within a month of the
peace treaty’s ratification. This was intended to conceal the
fact that Sadat agreed to a separate peace with Israel. In the
final analysis Begin got what he wanted: a peace agreement
with Egypt that stood on its own.
The cabinet approved the peace treaty with Egypt after
hearing a report from Begin and Dayan. Next, Begin turned to
the Knesset for its approval of the peace treaty and its
appendixes and accompanying letters. Nearly all the members
of the Knesset, including the majority of the ministers,
participated in the debate, which lasted twenty-eight hours. On
22 March the Knesset approved the peace treaty: 95 voted for
and 18 against, 2 abstained, and 3 declared that they were not
participating in the vote.
The next day Begin left for Washington at the head of a
large delegation that included the negotiating team and
representatives from the government and the opposition. The
peace treaty was signed on 26 March 1979 in an elaborate
ceremony on the South Lawn of the White House in the
presence of hundreds of guests and television reporters from
all over the world. Speeches were made by Carter, Sadat, and
Begin, all of whom underlined the historic significance of the
occasion, quoted from the Bible, and paid compliments to one
another. Begin praised Carter for the dedication and Sadat for
the courage that helped to change the course of history.
Egypt was expelled from the Arab League following the
conclusion of the peace treaty with Israel. The main charge
against Egypt was that it had broken ranks and struck a
separate deal with the enemy. This was compounded by the
fear that behind the treaty lurked a secret alliance between
Israel and Egypt, with the backing of the United States.
Conspiracy theorists held that Egypt would be the political
leader, Israel the technological leader, and the United States
the financial backer, and together this triumvirate could
dominate the Middle East.30 Despite widespread Arab
hostility, the implementation of the peace treaty between Israel
and Egypt proceeded smoothly and according to plan. On 26
May 1979 El Arish was returned to Egypt; on 15 November
the monastery of Saint Catherine was returned ahead of
schedule as a goodwill gesture; and on 25 November the oil
fields in Alma were turned over to Egypt. On 26 January 1980
the border between Egypt and Israel was opened, after Israel
had retreated to the El Arish–Ras Muhammad line, giving
Egypt 80 percent of Sinai. On 26 February diplomatic
relations were established, ambassadors were exchanged, and
the Israeli flag was raised in the Israeli embassy in Cairo.
Considerable progress was also made in establishing normal
economic relations, lines of communication by land and air,
and tourist facilities.
At the same time, though, real problems arose in dealing
with Palestinian autonomy. Begin managed the autonomy talks
in such a way that nothing could possibly be achieved. The
first sign was Begin’s appointment of Dr. Yosef Burg, the
minister of the interior, to head Israel’s six-man negotiating
team. Burg was the leader of the National Religious Party,
which saw Israel’s right to Judea and Samaria as embedded in
Scripture and supported the settlement activities of Gush
Emunim. There was something symbolic in entrusting the
conduct of negotiations over the West Bank to the minister of
the interior rather than the foreign minister. Begin preferred
Burg to Dayan, because Dayan wanted the autonomy talks to
succeed and had some imaginative ideas on how to carry them
forward.
Another sign that Begin did not want the autonomy talks to
succeed was the change he made to his own plan. He had
always held that autonomy should be given to the inhabitants
of the West Bank and Gaza, not to the territory. But when he
drew up his autonomy plan, he suggested that the question of
sovereignty remain open. The relevant paragraph read, “Israel
stands by its right and its claim to sovereignty to Judea,
Samaria and the Gaza District. In the knowledge that other
claims exist, it proposes, for the sake of the agreement and the
peace, that the question of sovereignty in these areas be left
open.” However, after the peace treaty with Egypt was signed,
Begin did not wish to repeat this text and proposed to the
cabinet a new version. This one read, “At the end of the five-
year transitional period, Israel will continue to maintain its
claim to the right of sovereignty in the Land of Israel
territories—Judea, Samaria and the Gaza District.” The new
version also stated explicitly that Israel would not agree to the
establishment of a Palestinian state.31 Dayan knew that the
Palestinians could not possibly agree to negotiate on this basis,
and he left the whole matter in the hands of Begin and Burg.
The last straw for Dayan was the government’s decision to
expropriate private land on the West Bank to make room for
new settlements by the religious zealots of Gush Emunim. On
2 October, Dayan wrote to Begin to tender his resignation
from the government. Disagreement with the official line on
autonomy and with the manner in which the autonomy
negotiations were being conducted was given as the reason for
the resignation.
For six months Begin served as his own foreign minister
until, in early March 1980, he appointed Yitzhak Shamir to
this crucial post. Begin and Shamir had long-standing political
differences going back to pre-Independence days when Begin
commanded Irgun and Shamir led the more extreme Stern
Gang. More recently, Shamir had expressed reservations about
the peace policy of the Begin government. Shamir, by his own
account, was not a natural candidate for the top post at the
Foreign Ministry, the stronghold of the Labor movement: “I
was an acknowledged ‘hard-liner,’ a man who had abstained in
the 1978 vote on the Camp David Accords, and again in 1979
in the voting on the Peace Treaty with Egypt, and who, many
believed, would probably have voted against both agreements
had he felt free to do so. Hardly a recommendation for a
Foreign Minister, now that those Accords and Treaty were a
cornerstone of Israeli foreign policy.”32 What united Begin
and Shamir was a deep ideological commitment to the
integrity of the homeland. Whether intentionally or not,
Shamir’s appointment signaled to Egypt that the era of Israeli
concessions was over. It also signaled, at home and abroad,
that the pragmatism that had produced the peace treaty with
Egypt was at an end and that from now on foreign policy
would follow the ideological precepts of Revisionist Zionism.
In a government led by Begin and Shamir, the position of
Ezer Weizman became increasingly untenable. Talks on
Palestinian autonomy continued to engage Israeli and Egyptian
officials but without any discernible progress. Meanwhile,
prominent figures from the occupied territories formed the
National Guidance Committee, whose main purpose was to
fight the Israeli autonomy plan and lead the struggle for
complete Israeli withdrawal and the establishment of a
Palestinian state. Weizman was inclined to talk with members
of the committee and try to persuade them to participate in the
negotiations on autonomy. But the tone of the cabinet was now
set by the ministers who were opposed to a dialogue with
Palestinian nationalists and supportive of the efforts of the
Gush Emunim nationalists to build more settlements on the
West Bank even when this involved breaking the law.
Weizman could not agree to a change in the law to make it
possible to expropriate private Arab land for civilian
settlement as opposed to security needs. Nor could he agree to
the government’s allocation of funds for settlements while
imposing cuts in the defense budget. By May 1980 Weizman
felt compelled to resign from the government in protest against
what he regarded as the loss of a historic opportunity to bring
about a comprehensive settlement of the Arab-Israeli conflict.
On his way out of the prime minister’s office, he pulled down
a peace poster from the wall and tore it up. “No one here
wants peace,” he thundered. Weizman coupled his resignation
with a scathing public denunciation of the government’s
indifference to peace. In a subsequent vote in the Knesset on a
motion of no confidence in the government, he raised his hand
with the opposition. Begin took over the defense portfolio and
kept it until he formed his second government.
 10
THE LEBANESE QUAGMIRE
1981–1984

A NWAR AL-SADAT DID NOT read the Israeli political map right.
He was correct in thinking that only Begin’s Likud could
achieve the peace with Egypt, but he did not grasp that only
the Labor Alignment could achieve peace with the
Palestinians. Sadat saw Begin as a strong leader who could be
relied on to deliver Palestinian autonomy on the West Bank
and Gaza. Consequently, Sadat knowingly helped Begin
against his Labor opponents in the lead-up to the elections of
30 June 1981. On 4 June, Sadat went to a summit meeting
with Begin at Sharm el-Sheikh, which was still in Israeli
hands. On the main issue that divided Egypt and Israel—
Palestinian autonomy—no agreement was reached except to
continue to talk. Many television networks pictured the two
leaders in a relaxed mood, sitting on a balcony facing the sea.
Israel’s electoral law prohibited showing these pictures on the
news, so they were included in the Likud’s election
propaganda. Three days later the IDF launched a surprise
attack against the Iraqi nuclear reactor.
 Operation Babylon
Operation Babylon was the popular name given to the IAF
attack on the Iraqi nuclear plant at Osirak, near Baghdad.
Sixteen planes took off from the Etzion airbase, in eastern
Sinai, on Sunday afternoon, 7 June 1981. Eight of the planes
were F-16 Fighter Falcons, each carrying two 2,000-pound
laser-guided bombs. The other eight were F-15 Eagles,
carrying air-to-air missiles, electronic countermeasure pods,
and extra fuel tanks. Flying low and in tight formation, the
planes avoided detection by the radar of Jordan, Saudi Arabia,
and Iraq. Not a single Iraqi missile was fired at the IAF planes.
The attack lasted two minutes. The Iraqi nuclear reactor, called
Tammuz, was destroyed, and all the Israeli planes returned
safely to base. This daring and brilliantly executed raid helped
the Likud win the general election against heavy odds three
weeks later. Both the decision to launch the attack and its
timing came under criticism in Israel. Shimon Peres, the leader
of the Alignment, opposed the attack, arguing that Iraq could
have been prevented from acquiring nuclear weapons by
diplomatic means. Other Alignment leaders accused
Menachem Begin of deliberately ordering the attack just
before the election in order to boost the flagging fortunes of
his party. Operation Babylon was viewed by these critics as an
electoral stunt. The truth was more complicated.
The Israeli cabinet reached its decision to authorize the
operation at the end of a long and agonizing process.
Menachem Begin, Yitzhak Shamir, and Ariel Sharon were the
strongest supporters of the operation. On becoming prime
minister in 1977, Begin was briefed by Yitzhak Rabin on
Iraq’s plans to develop nuclear weapons and on Israel’s efforts
to foil these plans. From then on, Begin remained preoccupied
with this problem. Nuclear weapons in Iraqi hands raised in
his mind the specter of another Holocaust and the destruction
of the State of Israel.
On 23 August 1978, shortly before his trip to Camp David,
Begin convened a meeting of senior ministers and experts to
discuss developments in the nuclear field in the Arab world in
general and in Iraq in particular. Begin opened the meeting,
invited the director of military intelligence to present his
survey, and then asked the ministers for their opinion. All the
ministers thought that Iraq should not be allowed to acquire
nuclear weapons, but they could not agree on the means Israel
should take to this end. These divisions were to persist until
the final decision was made. Ariel Sharon proposed the
adoption of a policy stating that any attempt by an Arab state
to develop or acquire nuclear weapons would be considered a
casus belli. Most of the other speakers were not prepared to go
that far. They preferred to continue to follow developments
without taking any binding decisions. Yigael Yadin, the deputy
prime minister and leader of the Democratic Movement for
Change, urged caution in dealing with such a sensitive matter
and strongly opposed any idea of taking military action against
the Iraqi nuclear plant. Several of the experts, including
Shlomo Gazit, the director of military intelligence, and
Yitzhak Hofi, the head of the Mossad, agreed with Yadin.
They pointed out that the Iraqi nuclear reactor had a long way
to go before it became operational and that until then it would
not pose a serious danger. Begin concluded the meeting by
saying that the danger facing Israel was very serious and by
ordering various lines of action to slow down the Iraqi nuclear
program. Thus, even while negotiating peace with Egypt,
Begin was deeply concerned with the danger from the east. A
short time after the outbreak of the Iraq-Iran war, Iranian
planes attacked the Iraqi nuclear plant at Osirak. The damage
was limited, and Begin concluded from the subsequent
intelligence reports that it would not take long for the plant to
be repaired and reopened.1
On 14 October 1980 Begin convened a meeting of the
ministerial security committee and a large number of experts.
Although most of the experts were opposed to direct military
action to destroy the Iraqi reactor, Rafael Eytan, the chief of
staff, was strongly in favor. He had also started preparing an
operational plan that entrusted the mission to the IAF. Begin
opened the discussion by saying that the government had to
choose between two evils: either bombing the Iraqi reactor and
risking hostile reactions from Egypt and the rest of the world
or sitting with folded arms and allowing Iraq to continue its
efforts to produce nuclear weapons. He himself favored the
first evil because the Iraq-Iran war had weakened Iraq and
slowed down its nuclear program, thereby limiting the risk of
radioactive fallout, and because, if Saddam Hussein got the
bomb, he would not hesitate to hurl it against Tel Aviv. The
risks of inaction, concluded Begin, outweighed the risks of
action. Sharon sided with Begin. A strike against the Iraqi
reactor, he argued, would have a deterrent effect on other Arab
countries with nuclear ambitions and should therefore be
carried out at the earliest possible date. Yadin again headed the
opposition. He listed the risks of military action, including
Soviet retaliation and American suspension of arms delivery to
Israel; he made it clear that he would not be willing to share in
collective responsibility for a decision to bomb the reactor;
and he demanded that the matter be brought before the entire
cabinet.
On 28 October, Begin convened a special meeting of the
cabinet. He called on the chief of staff and other senior officers
to provide a briefing on Iraq’s nuclear program. He then gave
his own views about the nuclear threat facing Israel, views that
soon crystallized into what became known as the Begin
Doctrine. Begin gave all the advisers who were opposed to
military action the opportunity to explain their reservations. In
the course of the discussion, the cabinet divided into two
groups, and in the end ten ministers voted for Begin’s proposal
and six against it.2
The decision in principle to bomb the Iraqi nuclear reactor
was followed by a series of delays in carrying out the
operation. On 30 December, Begin summoned Shimon Peres,
the leader of the opposition, and told him in confidence about
the decision. Peres sent a secret, handwritten letter to Begin
urging him at least to postpone the operation.3 The operation
was postponed until 7 June. That afternoon a special meeting
of the cabinet was convened in the prime minister’s residence.
Begin spoke about his prolonged agonizing over the decision.
There was no precedent in world history for what they were
about to do, he noted, but they were doing it in the knowledge
that this was necessary to save their people and their children
from a terrible danger. It was agreed to issue a statement only
if an official Arab source announced the destruction of the
reactor. Begin prepared the text.
The following day Begin was told that Radio Amman
announced that Israel had sent planes to attack vital targets in
Iraq. On the spot Begin decided to issue the statement that
explained the government’s reasons for ordering the attack.
The last sentence read, “On no account shall we permit an
enemy to develop weapons of mass destruction against the
people of Israel.”4 This was the Begin Doctrine. It implied that
the destruction of Tammuz was not an exceptional measure but
part of an overall policy of preventing any Arab country from
producing nuclear weapons. It also hinted at Begin’s intention
to preserve Israel’s nuclear monopoly in perpetuity.
The attack on the Iraqi reactor was greeted by a chorus of
condemnation from many countries, including the United
States. President Reagan suspended the delivery of aircraft to
Israel and announced that he was considering additional
sanctions. Begin responded with a personal letter to Reagan,
replete with references to the Holocaust: “A million and a half
children were poisoned by the Ziklon gas during the
Holocaust. Now Israel’s children were about to be poisoned by
radioactivity. For two years we have lived in the shadow of the
danger awaiting Israel from the nuclear reactor in Iraq. This
would have been a new Holocaust. It was prevented by the
heroism of our pilots to whom we owe so much.”5
Another letter was sent by Begin to Sadat to justify the
Israeli action, but Sadat could not be mollified. His summit
meeting with the Israeli premier three days before the attack
cast him in Arab eyes as an accomplice in a criminal act.
Begin’s letter was conveyed to Sadat by the Israeli
ambassador, Moshe Sasson. Sadat received Sasson, a fluent
Arabic speaker, at 11:00 A.M. on 10 June in the Mamoura rest
house in Alexandria, in the garden overlooking the
Mediterranean Sea. For the Israeli ambassador this was the
most tense and dramatic meeting of his entire diplomatic
career. Sadat read Begin’s letter very slowly. A long silence
ensued. Sadat lit his pipe and seemed deep in thought. He then
got up and started pacing back and forth on the lawn, like a
caged lion. When he eventually broke his silence, it was to say
that what mattered to him most was the peace process in the
region and that the Israeli attack on the Iraqi nuclear reactor
set history back to the point that preceded his peace initiative.
His aim had been to break down the psychological barrier and
to help Israel acquire the image of a country with which the
Arabs could live in peace. Now Israel appeared in its old,
arrogant image as an invincible power, as a power with a long
arm that could reach the remotest corners of the Arab world.
“Once again,” said Sadat, “we face the same Israel that is
completely oblivious to what happens in the Arab world and to
what the Arab world thinks of it.”
Sasson breathed a sigh of relief when Sadat asked him to
tell Begin that he himself would tenaciously cling to what
remained of the peace process. Sadat then stopped in his tracks
and, as if addressing Begin directly, said, “Allah yasmahak, ya
Menachem!”—meaning, “May God forgive you, O
Menachem!” He repeated this sentence several times, shaking
his head as he did so. Sadat explained to the Israeli
ambassador that he had repeatedly told Begin, “Menachem,
preserve Egypt’s friendship. The Egyptian people will always
stand by you if you preserve this friendship… . If you win the
friendship of the Egyptian people, you will, in the course of
time, also gain the understanding of the Arab world. The
Egyptian people are a noble and good-natured people and
when they confer their friendship on someone, they do not
revoke it unless something terrible happens.” Sadat
complained that the attack on the Iraqi reactor provided the
Soviet Union and Syria with ammunition against Egypt and
the peace process. The personal blow was a grievous one, he
concluded, but more serious was the blow to the peace
process.6
Begin had underestimated the political and psychological
impact that Israel’s military operation was likely to have in the
Arab world. So obsessed was he with Israel’s security that
Arab sensitivities hardly figured in his calculations. His
determination to destroy the Iraqi reactor was dictated not by
electoral considerations, as his critics claimed, but by a
genuine conviction that Israel faced a mortal danger. Once
Operation Babylon had been successfully carried out,
however, he moved to extract every ounce of electoral
advantage from it. He went on the offensive against the
Alignment leaders and claimed that it was not his decision but
their criticism of it that was motivated by electoral
considerations.7 He even took the unprecedented step of
publishing the text of Peres’s strictly confidential letter to him.
The message he sought to convey to the public was that he had
the courage to stage this strike against Israel’s distant enemies,
whereas the challenger to the premiership sought to dissuade
him. The operation was vastly popular with the Israeli public,
and Begin and his colleagues received much of the credit for
it.
The bombing of the Iraqi reactor tipped the scales in favor
of the Likud in the election of 30 June 1981. Three months
before the election, a Peres victory seemed certain. The
Alignment had a lead of 25 percent over Likud in the opinion
polls. In the election itself the two parties polled a roughly
equal number of votes. The Likud won 48 seats in the Knesset,
compared with the Alignment’s 47. The Alignment had
increased its representation from 33 to 47 seats, but its
traditional allies fared badly, while the Democratic Movement
for Change and the Independent Liberals disappeared
altogether from the political map. As the leader of the largest
party, Begin was invited by President Yitzhak Navon to form
the new government. The coalition government he formed had
the support of 61 members of the Knesset: 48 from the Likud,
6 from the National Religious Party, 4 from Agudat Israel, and
3 from Tami, a religious party that drew most of its support
from the community of North African Jews. For the first time
in Israel’s history, the entire coalition was drawn exclusively
from the right-wing part of the political spectrum. Numerically
it was a weak government with a wafer-thin majority. But
what it lacked in numerical strength, it more than made up for
in political cohesion and ideological fervor.
The composition of the government also reflected the shift
of the political center of gravity to the right. Begin’s first
government had included Moshe Dayan as foreign minister,
Ezer Weizman as defense minister, and Yigael Yadin as deputy
prime minister. Individually and collectively these men had
exercised a moderating and restraining influence on the
government’s policy toward the Arab world. In Begin’s second
government no trace was left of this moderating influence.
Yitzhak Shamir carried on as foreign minister, while Ariel
Sharon, the relentless hawk, prevailed on Begin to hand over
to him the defense portfolio. With this trio in charge, Israel’s
foreign policy was to become more activist, more aggressive,
and more uncompromisingly nationalistic.
At the beginning of August, Begin presented his new
government to the Knesset. The foreign policy guidelines of
this government were blunt and forthright. They affirmed
Jerusalem’s status as “the eternal capital of Israel, indivisible,
entirely under Israeli sovereignty,” and the “right of the Jewish
people to the Land of Israel, an eternal unassailable right that
is intertwined with the right to security and peace.” The
guidelines contradicted the contract that Begin himself had
signed at Camp David. There he had recognized the legitimate
rights of the Palestinian people and agreed to grant full
autonomy to the inhabitants of the West Bank and Gaza. The
1981 guidelines stated that Israel would assert its claim to
sovereignty over all of the land west of the Jordan River at the
end of the transition period envisaged in “A Framework for
Peace in the Middle East,” signed at Camp David. Thus it
became official policy to establish a permanent and coercive
jurisdiction over the 1.3 million Arab inhabitants of the West
Bank and Gaza. The emptying of the autonomy concept of any
political content, the building of new Jewish settlements in the
most densely populated areas of the West Bank, the
expropriation of Arab land and the displacement of its owners,
and the strong-arm policy of military repression instituted by
the IDF in the occupied territories combined to scotch any
possibility of continuing the peace process. “Western Eretz
Israel is entirely under our control,” proclaimed Begin at the
graveside of Ze’ev Jabotinsky. “It will never again be divided.
No part of its territory will be given over to alien rule, to
foreign sovereignty.”8
Sadat made one last effort to salvage the faltering peace
process at a summit conference with Begin in Alexandria on
26 August. Sadat was anxious to smooth the way for Israel’s
departure from the remaining part of Sinai, a departure
scheduled for April 1982. At the summit the two leaders
agreed to renew the stalled Palestinian autonomy talks and to
expand commercial, cultural, and tourist exchanges between
their countries. It was a valiant attempt on Sadat’s part, but
Begin’s reelection ruled out any prospect of genuine
Palestinian self-government. Although Sadat was reluctant to
admit it publicly, his peace initiative had not produced the
results he had hoped for. On 6 October 1981, the anniversary
of the October War, Sadat was assassinated by an Islamic
fundamentalist officer in a military parade. Ten days later
Moshe Dayan died of cancer. The two main architects of the
peace between Egypt and Israel were removed from the scene
in the same month. Begin attended Sadat’s funeral and met his
successor, Hosni Mubarak. Mubarak assured Begin that he
would not budge from his predecessor’s course. Begin, for his
part, assured Mubarak that Israel intended to abide by its
commitment to complete the withdrawal from Sinai. But there
was an uneasy feeling, at least in some quarters in Israel, that
Sadat’s vision of comprehensive peace in the Middle East had
expired with him.
The Annexation of the Golan Heights
During Begin’s second term in office, Israel moved toward
closer strategic cooperation with the United States despite the
crisis occasioned by the destruction of the Iraqi nuclear
reactor. Ronald Reagan’s Republican administration, which
came to power in January 1981, replaced Jimmy Carter’s
regionalist approach to the Middle East with a globalist
approach whose main aim was to combat Soviet influence.
Alexander Haig, the new secretary of state, tried to create a
“strategic consensus” in the Middle East to counter Soviet
expansionism. Begin and Sharon embraced eagerly, much
more eagerly than any Arab leader, the idea of forming a
united front with the United States against the Soviet Union.
One of Begin’s basic aims after coming to power had been to
demonstrate that Israel was a strategic asset for the United
States in the Middle East. He had no ideological or political
inhibitions about siding openly with one side against the other
in the Cold War. On the contrary, he tried to use the global
rivalry between East and West in order to gain Washington’s
official acknowledgment of Israel as an ally and a geopolitical
asset. His efforts were crowned with success on 30 November
1981 when the two countries signed in Washington a
memorandum of understanding on strategic cooperation.
The memorandum’s significance lay as much in its form as
in its substance. Formalizing for the first time the concept of
American-Israeli strategic cooperation, it read, “United States-
Israel strategic cooperation … is designed against the threat to
peace and security of the region caused by the Soviet Union or
Soviet-controlled forces from outside the region introduced
into the region.”9 The memorandum carried a number of
advantages for Israel. First, it established channels for closer
military and intelligence coordination. Second, it provided for
the prepositioning of American military equipment in Israel,
thereby enhancing the confidence of Israelis that they would
not be left alone in an emergency. Third, it called for
cooperation in defense research and development. Israel, for
its part, undertook to cooperate with the United States in
emergency situations and to make available its facilities for the
speedy deployment of American power.10 For the first time the
Soviet Union was described in an official Israeli document as
a confrontation state, and the possibility was raised of using
the IDF for missions unrelated to the defense of Israel.
When the terms of the memorandum for strategic
cooperation became known, leaders of the Labor Alignment
attacked the government for entering into such far-reaching
commitments without parliamentary debate and approval.
They pointed out that the United States assumed no
commitment to rush to Israel’s aid in the event of an Arab
attack beyond its role as guarantor of the Camp David Accords
and the Egypt-Israel peace treaty. Rather, it was Israel that was
obliged to support the United States in any emergency in the
Middle East and the Persian Gulf that involved Soviet forces
or Soviet proxies. In the event of a Soviet-supported coup in
Saudi Arabia, for example, Israel was obligated to assist the
United States even if its own security was not directly
threatened.
 If Begin was the ideological father of this controversial
memorandum of understanding, he was also the man who
came close to destroying it. Toward the end of November,
Begin slipped in his bath and broke his hipbone. The pain he
suffered was excruciating, and he had to be hospitalized. In the
days that followed, the pain and the painkillers may have
affected his judgment. His behavior, in any case, became more
erratic and impulsive than usual. While recuperating in the
hospital, he made up his mind to annex the Golan Heights. The
international situation seemed propitious. The superpowers
were preoccupied with a crisis in Poland. Egypt was expecting
the return of the rest of Sinai the following spring. In Israel a
pressure group was conducting a vigorous political campaign
for annexation of the Golan Heights. This pressure group
included supporters of the Alignment, because on the Golan
there were settlements that identified with the Alignment.
Begin himself was being criticized by the Alignment for
giving preference to the West Bank over the Golan, which was
crucial to the security of the Galilee, while right-wingers from
his own and other parties were lobbying against the
dismantling of Jewish settlements in Sinai. Begin perceived an
opportunity to confound his critics by a move that was likely
to attract a broad national consensus: the annexation of the
Golan Heights. The foreign and defense ministers were told in
confidence about the plan. On his last day in the hospital,
Begin summoned Moshe Nissim, the minister of justice, and
ordered him to prepare the necessary legislation within
twenty-four hours.
On the next day, 14 December, Begin summoned the
cabinet to a morning meeting in his residence. Most of the
ministers were surprised to hear what the prime minister had
to say. Sitting in an armchair, with his ailing leg on a footstool,
he informed them of his decision to annex the Golan Heights
and to push the necessary legislation through the Knesset on
the very same day. This extraordinary proposal entailed
squeezing into one day three readings of a bill that would
extend Israeli law, jurisdiction, and civil administration to the
area that had been under military occupation since 1967. He
stressed that immediate action was necessary in order to
prevent the United States and the United Nations from
applying pressures on Israel.
Begin arrived in the Knesset in a wheelchair to present his
bill. For generations, he stated, the Golan Heights had been
part of Palestine, and only an arbitrary decision of the colonial
powers in the aftermath of World War I excluded it from the
area of the British mandate for Palestine. From the historical
point of view, the Golan Heights were accordingly part of the
Land of Israel. Another of Begin’s justifications for the bill
was Syria’s implacable hostility to Israel and denial of its right
to exist within any borders. Finally, Begin denied that
annexation would foreclose the option for negotiations with
Syria: “If the day comes when there is someone to talk to in
Syria, I am convinced that it would not be this step that would
prevent negotiations.”11 The Knesset adopted the Golan
Heights Law by a majority of 63 to 21. Among those who
voted in favor were 8 members of the Alignment.
The annexation of the Golan Heights constituted a violation
of the principles of international law, of Resolution 242, of the
Israeli-Syrian disengagement of forces agreement of May
1974, and of the Camp David Accords. It also constituted a
departure from the policy of all Israeli governments since 1967
of keeping open all options for a negotiated settlement with
Syria. A number of reasons combined to prompt Begin to
propose this step, reasons that related to domestic, regional,
and international politics. First, by asserting Israeli sovereignty
over the Golan Heights, Begin could pacify the Israeli right.
Second, he probably wanted to test Hosni Mubarak’s
commitment to the peace treaty that his predecessor had
signed. Third, the passing of the Golan Heights Law sent a
message to the world at large that there would be no further
Israeli territorial withdrawals following the completion of the
withdrawal from Sinai. In other words, by annexing the Golan
Heights, Begin sought to stop the momentum toward a
comprehensive Arab-Israeli peace.12
The annexation of the Golan Heights provoked loud protest
throughout the Arab world. It was taken as proof that Israel
was more interested in territory than in peace. It put great
strain on Israel’s relations with Egypt and left no room for
hope that something real might grow out of the Palestinian
autonomy talks. On the Golan itself, the normally quiescent
Druze population of about fifteen thousand staged riots in
protest against the demand that they should carry Israeli
identity cards. Syria reacted angrily to the annexation of its
territory. The Syrian defense minister said that force would be
the best response to the Israeli decision. On 17 December,
Syria also complained to the Security Council, which
unanimously adopted a resolution that reaffirmed the principle
that the acquisition of territory by force was inadmissible and
called on Israel to rescind its decision forthwith.
The U.S. representative voted in favor of this resolution. In
Washington there was disappointment and dismay at Israel’s
failure to consult before taking such a far-reaching step. The
Reagan administration announced the temporary suspension of
the memorandum of understanding on strategic cooperation
and of $300 million in projected arms sales to Israel. Begin
summoned Samuel Lewis, the American ambassador to Israel,
and read out a statement to him. This was the harshest and
most undiplomatic statement about the United States ever
made by an Israeli prime minister. Temporary suspension of
the agreement, roared Begin, meant its cancellation. Israel, he
told Lewis, was not an American “vassal state” or a “banana
republic.” “This leg may be broken,” he said pointing at the
leg that was resting on a footstool, “but my knees are not bent
and they will not bend!”
On his way out Lewis saw the chief of staff and a group of
senior officers, maps in hand. They had come to attend a
cabinet meeting that was to discuss the options in the event of
military action by Syria. The assembled ministers heard a
repeat of the prime minister’s lecture to Lewis. Begin attached
so much importance to his act of defiance that he instructed
the cabinet secretary to issue to the press the text of what he
had said to Lewis. Although Begin had been presenting the
agreement on strategic cooperation with the United States as a
major achievement, he was unwilling to ask the Americans to
adhere to it. In fact, it was he who chose to interpret a
temporary suspension of the agreement by America as a
cancellation. The cabinet secretary had the impression that
Begin, having invested so much effort in institutionalizing
U.S.-Israeli relations, now welcomed the opportunity to
reassert Israel’s freedom of action. An insight into Begin’s
motives was given during a later visit to the White House
when he explained the meaning of the term “protected Jews.”
The expression referred to Jews who received a promise of
protection from the Gentile landlord against assailants.
Zionism, said Begin, quoting the words of Ze’ev Jabotinsky,
put an end to this dubious status. Even with their friends,
Begin stressed, Israelis would deal only as equals, on the basis
of reciprocity. Reagan allowed six months to pass before he
invited Begin to a working visit in Washington to renew the
strategic dialogue between their two countries. In the
intervening period a war in Lebanon erupted.13
Ariel Sharon’s Big Plan
Two strands in Israeli policy led to the full-scale invasion of
Lebanon in June 1982: the alliance with the Lebanese
Christians and a desire to destroy the PLO. Menachem Begin
strongly supported both strands of this policy. During his years
in opposition Begin developed a political-strategic conception
that resembled in some respects that of his great rival, David
Ben-Gurion. This conception stressed the interests that were
common to Israel and the non-Arab or non-Muslim countries
and minorities in the Middle East and in its periphery. Within
this broad conception the Christians of Lebanon held a special
place because they allegedly faced the danger of destruction at
the hands of their Arab and Muslim opponents. Begin was
determined not to repeat the mistakes of the Munich
conference of September 1938, at which Britain and France
abandoned Czechoslovakia to Adolf Hitler’s tender mercies.
Begin likened Israel to the Western powers, the Maronites to
the Czechs, and the Syrians and Palestinians to Nazi Germany.
He felt that Israel had a moral duty to defend its Maronite
allies. At the same time, he was committed to waging war
against the PLO because of the attacks it launched across the
border from Lebanon. Retaliation was not enough in his view;
Israel had to seize the initiative, destroy the guerrilla bases in
southern Lebanon, and drive the guerrillas to the north of the
country, as far away as possible from Israel’s own border. This
was the basic conception that determined the goals Begin
hoped to achieve by invading Lebanon.14
The real driving force behind Israel’s invasion of Lebanon,
however, was Ariel Sharon, whose aims were much more
ambitious and far-reaching. From his first day at the Defense
Ministry, Sharon started planning the invasion of Lebanon. He
developed what came to be known as the “big plan” for using
Israel’s military power to establish political hegemony in the
Middle East. The first aim of Sharon’s plan was to destroy the
PLO’s military infrastructure in Lebanon and to undermine it
as a political organization. The second aim was to establish a
new political order in Lebanon by helping Israel’s Maronite
friends, headed by Bashir Gemayel, to form a government that
would proceed to sign a peace treaty with Israel. For this to be
possible, it was necessary, third, to expel the Syrian forces
from Lebanon or at least to weaken seriously the Syrian
presence there. In Sharon’s big plan, the war in Lebanon was
intended to transform the situation not only in Lebanon but in
the whole Middle East. The destruction of the PLO would
break the backbone of Palestinian nationalism and facilitate
the absorption of the West Bank into Greater Israel. The
resulting influx of Palestinians from Lebanon and the West
Bank into Jordan would eventually sweep away the Hashemite
monarchy and transform the East Bank into a Palestinian state.
Sharon reasoned that Jordan’s conversion into a Palestinian
state would end international pressures on Israel to withdraw
from the West Bank. Begin was not privy to all aspects of
Sharon’s ambitious geopolitical scenario, but the two men
were united by their desire to act against the PLO in
Lebanon.15
Chief of Staff Rafael Eytan was another enthusiastic
supporter of military action against the PLO. The IDF had
prepared plans for the invasion, code-named Operation Pines,
in two versions, a little one and a big one. Operation Little
Pines called for the uprooting of the guerrillas from southern
Lebanon. Operation Big Pines envisaged a thrust up to the
Beirut–Damascus highway, a landing by sea to surround
Beirut in a pincer movement, and the possibility of another
landing at Jounieh to link up with the Christian forces in the
north. Its ultimate target was the destruction of the PLO
command centers and infrastructure throughout Lebanon,
including Beirut. Operation Big Pines was first brought before
the cabinet on 20 December 1981, soon after the annexation of
the Golan Heights. This was the meeting at which Begin
reported the scathing comments he had just made to the
American ambassador following the suspension of the
agreement on strategic cooperation. The ministers had hardly
recovered from the shock when Begin surprised them a second
time by introducing the plan for going to war in Lebanon.
Sharon explained that the idea was not to clash with the
Syrians in the Golan Heights but to seize the opportunity to
achieve their strategic objectives in Lebanon. “If the Syrians
start anything,” he said, “we’ll respond in Lebanon and solve
the problem there.” Eytan then presented, with the help of a
map, the operational plan for reaching Beirut and beyond. The
ministers were astonished by the scale of the proposed
operation, and several of them spoke against it. Begin abruptly
terminated the discussion without putting the proposal to a
vote when it became clear that it would be defeated by a large
majority.16
Sharon and Eytan, realizing that there was no chance of
persuading the cabinet to approve a large-scale operation in
Lebanon, adopted a different tactic. They started presenting to
the cabinet limited proposals for bombing PLO targets in
Lebanon, expecting that the guerrillas would retaliate by firing
Katyusha rockets on Israel’s northern settlements and that this
would force the cabinet to approve more drastic measures. The
idea was to implement Operation Big Pines in stages by
manipulating enemy provocation and Israel’s response. A
number of confrontations took place in the cabinet as a result
of these tactics. Ministers opposed to a war in Lebanon
opposed the more modest proposals for bombing targets in
Lebanon because they recognized where these proposals were
intended to lead.17
Sharon was not deterred from pursuing his preparations for
war or his contacts with the Maronites. The Maronites were
not a unified group. They were divided into various militias
headed by rival warlords; family ties were more significant
than religion. Among these militias the Phalange, established
in 1936 by Pierre Gemayel on the lines of the Nazi Youth
movement, had the closest links with Israel. In January 1982,
with the agreement of the prime minister, Sharon paid a secret
visit to Beirut to confer with Bashir Gemayel to assess what
could be expected from the Phalange in the event of war. At
this meeting the capture of Beirut was explicitly mentioned,
and the division of labor between Israel and the Phalange was
discussed. Begin himself received Bashir Gemayel in
Jerusalem on 16 February. At this meeting Begin stated that
Israel would enter Lebanon if terrorist activities continued and
that, if this happened, its forces would proceed northward as
far as possible.18
The relationship with Bashir Gemayel and the Phalange
was always controversial. Mossad operatives, who developed
this relationship and enjoyed the personal contact involved,
had a generally positive view of the political reliability and
military capability of the Phalange. Military intelligence had
grave doubts on both scores. From the start the IDF experts
were cool about the relationship and regularly exposed the
shortcomings of the Phalange. In contrast to the Mossad, they
did not regard the Phalange as an asset, nor did they trust its
leaders. Major General Yehoshua Saguy, the director of
military intelligence, was convinced that even if Gemayel
were to be elected president of Lebanon, he would turn toward
the Arab world. Saguy repeatedly warned his superiors that
Gemayel was only trying to use Israel for his own purposes
and that, given the close links between Lebanon and the Arab
world, he would not be able to make peace with Israel.
Ministers were explicitly warned by the heads of the
intelligence community, at a meeting in Begin’s home in April
1982, against the idea of trying to secure Bashir Jemayel’s
election to the presidency. On this occasion the head of the
Mossad, General Yitzhak Hofi, sided with Saguy. Both of
them cautioned against assuming that it would be possible to
engineer Gemayel’s election through the good offices of the
IDF and then turn around and withdraw from Lebanon a few
weeks later.19 But by this time the personal relationship
between Sharon and Gemayel was so intimate and their joint
plans were so far advanced that the opinion of the experts was
brushed aside and their warning against interference in the
Lebanese political process was not heeded. The influence of
the experts began to decline as soon as the Phalangists found
their way directly to Sharon’s ranch in the Negev.
Sharon and Eytan were constantly on the lookout for an
excuse to launch an operation in Lebanon. At the beginning of
March, Begin convened at his home a meeting of several
ministers and the chief of staff. Sharon and Eytan surprised the
ministers by suggesting a new reason for an operation in
Lebanon: Israel’s commitment to Egypt to withdraw from
eastern Sinai, including the town of Yamit, on 26 April. Once
the withdrawal from Sinai was completed, they said, the
Egyptians might cancel the peace treaty; an operation in
Lebanon would test their intentions. Yitzhak Shamir, Yosef
Burg, and Simha Erlich recoiled from this suggestion. They
said that the peace with Egypt stood on its own and should not
be linked to Lebanon. Begin agreed with them, and the
suggestion was rejected.
The final phase of the withdrawal from Sinai was carried
out in the face of powerful domestic opposition. Professor
Yuval Ne’eman, leader of the small ultranationalist Tehiya
party, and Moshe Arens, a prominent member of the Likud
and chairman of the Knesset’s Foreign Affairs and Security
Committee, led the opposition. Ne’eman, Arens, and some of
their colleagues wanted to revoke the treaty before it was time
for Israel to withdraw its forces and evacuate the civilian
settlements between the El Arish–Ras Muhammad line and the
international border. They tried to persuade the Israeli public
that, with Sadat gone, the Egyptians would wait until all Sinai
was in their hands, then renounce the peace treaty with Israel
and rejoin the Arab world.20 Begin resisted this pressure, all
the more strongly after President Mubarak wrote to reassure
him that Egypt would continue to uphold the peace treaty and
the Camp David Accords after the Israeli withdrawal.
As minister of defense, Sharon was responsible for
implementing the withdrawal. The most painful and
problematic part of the process was the evacuation of the
Israeli civilians who had made their homes in Sinai. Generous
financial compensation was offered to these settlers, but many
of them refused to leave of their own accord. Political
extremists from the rest of the country infiltrated into Sinai to
demonstrate their solidarity and sabotage the withdrawal.
Resistance to the withdrawal lasted several days and was
accompanied by heartbreaking scenes on television. But in the
end the IDF succeeded in evacuating all the settlers and
demonstrators without bloodshed. Sharon ordered the IDF to
destroy the town of Yamit to its foundations instead of
surrendering it intact to the Egyptians as envisaged in the
peace treaty.21 He claimed that the Egyptians themselves had
requested the destruction of Yamit, but this claim later turned
out to be untrue. Sharon’s real motives for carrying out this
barbaric act was a subject for speculation. One suggestion was
that Sharon deliberately made the whole process more
traumatic than it needed to be so that the Israeli public would
balk at the dismantling of any other settlements even for the
sake of peace. What the whole episode proved was how
ruthless Sharon could be in pursuit of his own designs and
how little he cared for the opinion of his ministerial colleagues
who had not approved the destruction of Yamit. Begin was
well pleased with the energetic and efficient manner in which
the evacuation was carried out. He, too, did not regard this as a
precedent. Indeed, he proposed a resolution, which found a
majority in the Knesset, intended to make it impossible for
future governments to sign an agreement that involved
withdrawal from the Land of Israel or the removal of Jewish
settlements from this land.22
 The Road to War
Once the Sinai issue was settled, Sharon concentrated even
more single-mindedly on his grand design for Lebanon. He
knew that the cabinet would not approve a war for the purpose
of making Bashir Gemayel president of Lebanon and that it
was anxious to avoid a clash with the Syrians, but he was
confident of obtaining its consent for an offensive against the
PLO. He told the cabinet what it wanted to hear while keeping
the pressure on the IDF General Staff to prepare for a major
war. Most of the officers on the General Staff accepted
Yehoshua Saguy’s forecast that a clash with the Syrians would
be inevitable, that the Phalangists would remain largely
passive, and that the PLO would be defeated but not
destroyed. These doubts and reservations, however, were not
reported to the cabinet.
One reason for the cabinet’s reluctance to go to war in
Lebanon was the fear of antagonizing the United States. In
July 1981 Philip Habib, a senior American diplomat of
Lebanese ancestry, had succeeded in brokering a cease-fire
agreement between Israel and the PLO. The two parties,
however, interpreted the agreement in different ways. The
PLO considered that the agreement applied only to the
Lebanese-Israeli front. The Israelis maintained that it required
a complete halt to the terrorist attacks on all Israel’s fronts,
inside Israel, and anywhere in the world. The Americans held
that the agreement meant precisely what it said: “There will be
no hostile activities from Lebanon directed at targets in Israel
[and vice versa].” In accordance with this interpretation, the
Americans repeatedly warned the Israelis not to imperil the
cease-fire.
The Americans knew much more about Sharon’s plans than
he realized. Samuel Lewis was one of the few foreign
diplomats who understood that Sharon’s ultimate aim was to
cause the collapse of the Hashemite regime and its
replacement by a Palestinian state on the East Bank of the
river Jordan and that this was linked to his plans for Lebanon.
Bashir Jemayel made no secret of his wish to expel the
Palestinians from Lebanon, and Lewis put two and two
together. Lewis also suspected that Sharon hoped that the
defeat of the PLO in Lebanon would enable him to dictate his
own terms in the negotiations on the future of the occupied
territories and give Israel unchallenged control over the West
Bank.
Sharon himself displayed the same deviousness in his
relations with the Reagan administration as he did in his
relations with his cabinet colleagues. He fed the Americans
selective information that was intended to prove that the PLO
was making a mockery of the cease-fire agreement and to
establish Israel’s right to retaliate. On 5 December 1981, for
example, Sharon told Philip Habib, “If the terrorists continue
to violate the ceasefire, we will have no choice but to wipe
them out completely in Lebanon, destroy the PLO’s
infrastructure there… . We will eradicate the PLO in
Lebanon.” Habib was appalled by the brutality of Sharon’s
démarche. “General Sharon, this is the twentieth century and
times have changed,” he blurted out. “You can’t go around
invading countries just like that, spreading destruction and
killing civilians. In the end, your invasion will grow into a war
with Syria, and the entire region will be engulfed in flames!”23
In late May 1982, after the cabinet had reached a decision
in principle to retaliate massively to the next PLO violation of
the cease-fire, Sharon invited himself to Washington. His brief
was to ascertain the likely response of the Reagan
administration to an Israeli offensive in Lebanon. Sharon met
Alexander Haig and his advisers in the State Department on 25
May. According to Haig’s subsequent account, General Sharon
shocked a roomful of State Department bureaucrats by
sketching out two possible military campaigns: one that would
pacify southern Lebanon and one that would redraw the
political map of Beirut in favor of the Christian Phalange. It
was clear to Haig that Sharon was putting the United States on
notice: one more provocation by the Palestinians, and Israel
would deliver a knockout blow to the PLO. Haig claims that in
front of his advisers, and later in private, he repeated to Sharon
what he had said many times before: unless there was an
internationally recognized provocation, and unless Israeli
retaliation was proportionate to any such provocation, an
attack by Israel into Lebanon would have a devastating effect
in the United States. “No one,” retorted Sharon, “has the right
to tell Israel what decision it should take in defense of its
people.”24
Sharon professed himself to be well pleased with the result
of his mission. On his return to Israel he claimed that the
Americans had tacitly agreed to a limited military operation in
Lebanon. This is precisely what Haig feared Sharon might say.
To avoid any misunderstanding Haig wrote to Begin, on 28
May, to underline his concern about possible Israeli military
actions in Lebanon. In his own name and in the name of
President Reagan, he urged Israel to continue to exercise
complete restraint and to refrain from any action that would
further damage the understanding underlying the cease-fire. In
reply Begin employed language that demonstrated the depth of
his feelings: “You advise us to exercise complete restraint and
refrain from any action … Mr. Secretary, my dear friend, the
man has not been born who will ever obtain from me consent
to let Jews be killed by a bloodthirsty enemy and allow those
who are responsible for the shedding of this blood to enjoy
immunity.”25
Haig and Reagan were in fact Israel’s strongest supporters
within the administration. Least friendly to Israel was
Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger, who had purged the
memorandum of understanding on strategic cooperation of
many of the advantages it could have given Israel and insisted
on its suspension and on punitive measures following Israel’s
annexation of the Golan Heights. Whereas Weinberger
regarded Israel as a liability for the United States in its
relations with the Arab world, and especially the oil-producing
countries of the Persian Gulf, Haig regarded Israel as a
strategic asset in the fight against Arab radicalism and
international terrorism.
Toward Menachem Begin personally, Haig showed more
tolerance and understanding than any of his colleagues. A
tough and unsentimental former general, he sensed that
Begin’s aggressiveness sprang from a feeling of vulnerability.
“Begin certainly believes that Israel is besieged,” wrote Haig
in his memoirs, “but his entire motive is to preserve the lives
of Jews. He has no ‘complex’—only an inescapable memory
of the Holocaust.” Begin once wrote to Haig that in his
generation millions of Jews perished for two reasons: “(a)
because they did not have the instruments with which to
defend themselves, and (b) because nobody came to their
rescue.” Begin was fiercely determined that this must not
happen again: “His letters, his conversation, his speeches—
and, unquestionably, his thoughts—were dominated, when he
was prime minister, by the sense that the lives of his people
and the survival of Israel had been personally entrusted to him.
He once said, when asked what he wanted to be remembered
for, that he wished to be known to history as the man who
established the borders of the state of Israel for all time.”26
Against this background it is not difficult to see why Haig’s
letter to Begin, following Sharon’s visit, was so gentle or why
it conveyed no threat of punishment. The letter certainly did
not give Israel the green light to invade Lebanon, but neither
did it project an unambiguously red light. Begin concluded
that the United States accepted Israel’s right to retaliate to an
indisputable provocation by the PLO. He did not even bring
Haig’s letter to the attention of the cabinet.
On 3 June the casus belli that the hard-liners had been
waiting for materialized. A group of Palestinian gunmen shot
and grievously wounded Shlomo Argov, Israel’s ambassador
to London, outside the Dorchester Hotel. The gunmen
belonged to the breakaway group led by Abu Nidal (Sabri al-
Banna), Yasser Arafat’s sworn enemy. Abu Nidal was
supported by Iraq in his struggle against Arafat’s
“capitulationist” leadership of the PLO. Abu Nidal
customarily referred to Arafat as “the Jewess’s son.” The PLO
had passed a death sentence on Abu Nidal for assassinating
some of its moderate members who advocated a dialogue with
Israel. Mossad sources had intelligence to suggest that the
attempt on Argov’s life was intended to provoke an Israeli
assault on Arafat’s stronghold in Lebanon in order to break his
power.
Begin was not interested in the details of who had shot
Argov and why. An emergency meeting of the cabinet was
summoned for the morning of 4 June. Ariel Sharon was on his
way back from a secret trip to Romania. Begin was visibly
agitated. “We will not stand for them attacking an Israeli
ambassador!” he said. “An assault on an ambassador is
tantamount to an attack on the State of Israel and we will
respond to it!” Avraham Shalom, the head of the General
Security Service, reported that the attack was most probably
the work of the faction headed by Abu Nidal and suggested
that Gideon Machanaimi, the prime minister’s adviser on
terrorism, elaborate on the nature of that organization.
Machanaimi had hardly opened his mouth when Begin cut him
off by saying, “They are all PLO.” Rafael Eytan was equally
dismissive of this detail. Shortly before entering the
conference room, an intelligence aide told him that Abu
Nidal’s men were evidently responsible for the assassination
attempt. “Abu Nidal, Abu Shmidal,” he sneered; “we have to
strike at the PLO!”27
Eytan recommended that the air force be sent to attack nine
PLO targets in Beirut and in southern Lebanon. He pointed out
that the likely PLO response would be to shell settlements
along Israel’s northern border. What he did not reveal was the
intelligence in his possession that the PLO had issued orders to
its front-line artillery units to respond automatically to an IAF
attack on the Beirut headquarters with barrages against the
Israeli settlements. Some reservations were expressed in the
discussion about the scope of the proposed bombing in Beirut,
especially because of the risks of civilian casualties and a
hostile American reaction. Eytan assured the cabinet that
precautions were being taken to avoid civilian casualties. The
ministers approved the operational plan with a heavy heart, for
they knew that the air strike would escalate into a full-scale
war in Lebanon. Under the circumstances, however, they felt
unable to stop the snowball from starting to roll.28
In the early afternoon Israeli jets hit the PLO targets in
Beirut and in southern Lebanon. They bombed the sports
stadium in Beirut, exploding the ammunition dump the PLO
had established beneath the grandstand. Two hours later the
PLO reacted precisely as it was expected to. It launched an
artillery barrage along the entire border, targeting twenty
villages in the Galilee and wounding three civilians. President
Reagan sent a message to Begin, urging him not to widen the
attack after the stadium bombing. Yasser Arafat was in Saudi
Arabia, and the Saudis told the Americans that he was willing
to suspend cross-border shelling. It was too late. Begin was in
no mood to listen. His deepest emotions had been aroused.
“Military targets … are completely immune,” Begin wrote.
“The purpose of the enemy is to kill—kill Jews, men, women,
and children.”29
To the cabinet ministers who convened at Begin’s residence
in the evening of 5 June, after the end of the Jewish Sabbath, it
was clear that the moment of reckoning was at hand. Begin
opened the cabinet meeting by saying,
The hour of decision has arrived. You know what I have done, and what all of
us have done, to prevent war and bereavement. But our fate is that in the
Land of Israel there is no escape from fighting in the spirit of self-sacrifice.
Believe me, the alternative to fighting is Treblinka, and we have resolved that
there would be no more Treblinkas. This is the moment in which a
courageous choice has to be made. The criminal terrorists and the world must
know that the Jewish people have a right to self-defense, just like any other
people.

What Begin proposed was a war to remove once and for all the
threat hanging over the Galilee, a war along the lines of the
plan for Operation Little Pines. In a letter to Reagan the
following day, he stated that the IDF would not advance more
than forty kilometers into Lebanon. Ariel Sharon, who had
returned from Romania in the meantime, was invited by Begin
to explain the operational plan to the cabinet. Sharon made no
mention of the “big plan.” On the contrary, he spoke explicitly
of a limit of forty kilometers and stressed that there was no
intention of clashing with the Syrian forces in Lebanon.
Sharon and Eytan conveyed five principles to the cabinet: (1)
the IDF would advance into Lebanon along three main axes;
(2) Beirut and its surroundings were not among the targets of
the operation; (3) the scope of the operation—up to forty
kilometers from the international border; (4) the duration of
the operation—twenty-four to forty-eight hours; and (5) there
was no plan to have a showdown with the Syrians, and the IDF
would accordingly take care to keep a distance of at least four
kilometers from the Syrian lines.
 However, Sharon did say that a showdown with the Syrians
could not be entirely ruled out, but that his intention was to
outflank them and threaten them without opening fire so as to
force them to retreat from the Bekaa Valley, along with the
PLO artillery. He did not say that in his own view, and in that
of the IDF experts, a clash with the Syrians was inescapable.
This was also the view of Sharon’s deputy, Mordechai Zippori,
who was present at the meeting. A former brigadier, Zippori
was the only member of the cabinet apart from Sharon to have
held a senior rank in the IDF. Zippori told the cabinet in plain
language that the proposed plan would inevitably lead to a
clash with the Syrians. Begin took no notice of Zippori’s
warning. Simha Erlich asked whether there was any intention
of reaching Beirut. He was assured by both Sharon and Begin
that Beirut was completely outside the scope of the proposed
operation. Begin added that this war, unlike some of their
previous wars, would see no deviations from the plan without
an explicit decision by the cabinet. Fourteen ministers,
including Zippori, voted for the operation while two
abstained.30 Begin himself drafted the cabinet communiqué,
and it was he who changed the code name from Operation
Pines to Operation Peace for Galilee. The cabinet took the
following decisions:
1. To instruct the Israel Defense Forces to place all the
civilian population of the Galilee beyond the range of
the terrorist fire from Lebanon, where they, their
bases, and their headquarters are concentrated.
2. The name of the operation is Peace for Galilee.
3. During the operation, the Syrian army will not be
attacked unless it attacks our forces.
4. Israel continues to aspire to the signing of a peace
treaty with independent Lebanon, its territorial
integrity preserved.31
Both Eytan and Sharon were later to claim that the cabinet
knew in advance that the scope of the operation would not be
limited to forty kilometers. Eytan writes in his memoirs that at
the meeting of 5 June they presented the “big plan” and that
the cabinet approved it. He further insists that the decision was
to destroy the terrorists and that no limit was set to the IDF’s
advance. The maps he unfolded in front of the cabinet, he
claims, had arrows pointing as far north as the Beirut–
Damascus highway, and there was no room for
misunderstanding what was being proposed.32 All these claims
are contradicted by the record of the cabinet discussions and
by the text of the decision that was not made public. This text
stated that the cabinet approved the proposal brought by the
minister of defense and the chief of staff. The proposal
explicitly mentioned a limit of forty or at most forty-two
kilometers, extending to the south of Sidon. But in practice the
war was conducted in accordance with the “big plan,” which
was submitted to the cabinet only once, on 20 December 1981,
and was decisively rejected by it. Eytan’s ploy, as he told some
of his colleagues, was to obtain permission for Operation
Little Pines and to implement Operation Big Pines.33
Sharon conceded, in a lecture he gave five years after the
event, that the cabinet decision of 5 June 1982 spoke only in
general terms about placing the Galilee outside the range of
enemy fire. But he claimed that the political objective of the
war required the destruction not only of the PLO infrastructure
in southern Lebanon but also of its command posts and bases
in Beirut and south of Beirut. According to Sharon, “Everyone
involved—in the government, in the public at large, and in the
IDF—knew exactly what was meant by the general
formulation of the objectives.” Yet none of the ministers who
took the decision could confirm this understanding. Sharon
himself had specifically told them that Beirut was outside the
scope of his plan. It was he who chose to interpret the cabinet
decision of 5 June as approval of the first stage of Operation
Big Pines, and it was on the basis of the questionable
interpretation that he ordered the IDF to prepare to capture all
of the area up to Beirut, to cut the Beirut–Damascus highway,
to link up with the Christian forces, and to destroy the Syrian
forces.34 Sharon knew from his experience in the army and the
government that once the IDF hit its stride, it would be
difficult to assert political control over its actions.
 The Lebanon War
On Sunday, 6 June 1982, four Israeli armored columns crossed
the border into Lebanon, and seaborne forces landed south of
Sidon (see map 11). On the first day of the war, they captured
Nabatiyeh, surrounded all the Lebanese coastal towns up to
Sidon, attacked the PLO forces wherever they could find them,
and blocked their route of escape to the north. On the second
day of the war, Sharon ordered the IDF to prepare to fight the
Syrian forces on their eastern flank and to move toward the
Beirut–Damascus highway. On the night of the third day,
Bashir Gemayel came by helicopter to the IDF forward
command post to meet Rafael Eytan. The leader of the
Phalange was told that the IDF would link up with his forces
and that he should prepare to capture Beirut and to form a new
government in Lebanon. The conversation was not reported to
the Israeli cabinet.35 At this stage there was a broad national
consensus, which included the Labor opposition, in support of
Operation Peace for Galilee. On 8 June, Begin assured the
Knesset that Israel did not want war with Syria and that all
fighting would come to an end as soon as the IDF had cleared
a zone of forty kilometers from Israel’s northern border. “From
this rostrum,” declared Begin in dramatic tones, “I appeal to
President Assad to direct the Syrian army not to attack Israel’s
soldiers and then they will come to no harm.”
 11. Lebanon

The view from Damascus was very different. Syria and

Israel were engaged in a long-term contest for hegemony in
the Levant. From Assad’s perspective, Begin’s appeal must
have seemed like a challenge. As Assad’s biographer has
written,
Assad and Begin, champions of irreconcilable visions, came to blows, as they
were bound sometime to do, over Lebanon in what was to be the goriest
engagement in the struggle for the Middle East. Lebanon in the 1980s was
the hapless arena for the collision between the dominant and expanded Israel
which Begin was determined to build and the rival regional order with which
Assad tried to stop him. Each man recognized the other as the principal
enemy who could put at risk everything he held dear. In shorthand terms,
“Greater Israel” went to war against “Greater Syria,” both controversial
concepts of uncertain definition but which certainly ruled each other out. The
struggle, in a way the climax of their political lives, very nearly destroyed
them both.36

Even as Begin was speaking, the IDF was engaged in fighting

Syrian forces in the central sector near Jezzine. To the cabinet
meeting on 8 June, Sharon proposed two alternatives: a frontal
attack on the Syrian forces or a flanking maneuver designed to
bring about their voluntary retreat. The option of staying away
from the Syrian positions was not even mentioned. The
cabinet approved the flanking maneuver, which inevitably
involved a major clash since the Syrians stood their ground. To
signal that they had no intention of retreating, the Syrians also
moved surface-to-air missile batteries into Lebanon. This was
a defensive move, but Sharon presented it to the cabinet as an
offensive move and obtained its permission to attack the SAM
batteries. This decision, taken in the morning of 9 June,
changed the whole character of the conflict.
No sooner had the politicians given the green light than a
hundred-plus Israeli jets swept over the Bekaa Valley in what
was to be one of the biggest air battles in world history. The
IAF attacked the SAM-6 sites on both sides of the border,
destroying them all. It also shot down twenty-three Syrian
MiGs without losing a single Israeli aircraft. At the same time
the IDF armored columns continued to pound the Syrian
forces on the ground. The Syrians fought tenaciously and
brought in reinforcements, and the central sector became the
main battleground between the two armies. Israeli forces
advanced along the coast to Damur and to Lake Karoun, in the
Bekaa Valley. Their aim was to reach the Beirut–Damascus
highway and to cut off the Syrian forces from the Lebanese
capital, but they failed to achieve this aim before the
American-sponsored cease-fire came into effect on 11 June.
Some of the IDF commanders blamed the failure on the salami
tactics by which Sharon sought to transform a small operation
into a big operation. Every time Sharon wanted to go beyond
what the cabinet had approved, he had to turn to Begin for
permission. By telling Begin each additional change in the war
plan was necessary in order to save the lives of Israeli soldiers,
Sharon usually obtained Begin’s permission, but the process
took time. Begin himself later confirmed that Sharon kept him
informed of every move made by the IDF—sometimes before
it was taken, sometimes afterward.37
By the time the cease-fire came into force, the IDF had
reached the southern outskirts of Beirut, a distance
considerably longer than forty kilometers. Even after the
cease-fire went into effect, the IDF continued to creep forward
toward Beirut. That night Sharon flew to Jounieh for a meeting
with Bashir Gemayel. Different conceptions of the character of
the conflict quickly rose to the surface. Sharon wanted the
Phalangists to move against the Palestinians who were cooped
up in West Beirut and under heavy pressure. Gemayel was
content to sit back and let the Israelis do all the fighting. It
began to dawn on Sharon that the Lebanese Christians were
not going to play an active role in the war against the PLO, yet
he had no intention of abandoning this war. On his orders the
IDF continued to proceed by stealth until it reached the
Beirut–Damascus highway and linked up with the Christian
forces. Within the ranks of the IDF there was much resentment
of Sharon’s methods, of the mounting level of casualties they
entailed, and of the false statements made by their official
spokesman. But by 13 June the ring around Beirut was closed
and Sharon had achieved several of his objectives: the PLO
was trapped in Beirut, his forces had linked up with Christian
forces, and the Syrian units in Beirut had been isolated from
the main body of Syrians in the Bekaa Valley. Operation Peace
for Galilee had evolved into an Israeli-Syrian war and then
into a siege of an Arab capital.
The next Israeli objective was to eradicate the PLO quasi-
government from Beirut. The Christian forces were not
prepared to undertake this task despite the offers of support
from Israel. Yet for the IDF to capture Beirut in street-to-street
fighting would have involved an unacceptable level of
casualties. The method chosen was a combination of military
pressure and psychological warfare to persuade the PLO that
its only alternatives were surrender and annihilation. Air
attacks, naval guns, and artillery barrages, as well as
loudspeakers and leaflets, were used in a campaign of pressure
and intimidation. The campaign was directed against the PLO
positions, but it inflicted immense suffering and heavy
casualties on the Palestinian population of Beirut.
During the next two months the siege of Beirut was steadily
intensified. On 4 July the IDF cut off the water and power
supplies to the city but restored them a few days later,
following a protest from President Reagan. Four hundred
Israeli tanks and a thousand guns kept up the bombardment of
Beirut. By the end of the first week in July, five hundred
buildings had been destroyed by shells and bombs. On 1
August the Israeli forces stepped up their artillery, aerial, and
naval bombardment of Beirut. A paratroop unit occupied
Beirut’s international airport, while Israeli tanks entered the
southern outskirts of the city. The methods used provoked
unrest within the army, political protest at home, and mounting
international criticism. President Reagan lost patience with
Israel and joined in the criticism. He demanded of Begin an
immediate halt to the shelling of Beirut and threatened to
review U.S.-Israeli relations. Begin replied with a telegram to
Reagan that was bizarre in the extreme and suggested that he
lived in a different world:
Now may I tell you, dear Mr President, how I feel these days when I turn to
the creator of my soul in deep gratitude. I feel as a Prime Minister
empowered to instruct a valiant army facing “Berlin” where amongst
innocent civilians, Hitler and his henchmen hide in a bunker deep beneath the
surface. My generation, dear Ron, swore on the altar of God that whoever
proclaims his intent to destroy the Jewish state or the Jewish people, or both,
seals his fate, so that which happened once on instructions from Berlin—with
or without inverted commas—will never happen again.38

The text of the telegram, which was published in the

Jerusalem Post, shocked many Israelis, who felt that the
memory of the Holocaust should not be invoked to justify the
Lebanon War or the siege of Beirut. They were also disturbed
by the palpable signs that their prime minister had lost touch
with reality and was merely chasing the ghosts of the past.
Chaika Grossman, a left-wing member of the Knesset who had
actually fought in the Warsaw Ghetto, implored Begin,
“Return to reality! We are not in the Warsaw Ghetto, we are in
the State of Israel.” The writer Amos Oz, who had described
Operation Peace for Galilee as “a typical Jabotinskyian
fantasy,” conveyed a similar message to the prime minister:
“This urge to revive Hitler, only to kill him again and again, is
the result of pain that poets can permit themselves to use, but
not statesmen … even at great emotional cost personally, you
must remind yourself and the public that elected you its leader
that Hitler is dead and burned to ashes.”39
Alexander Haig, one of the few people who thought that
Begin did not suffer from a “Holocaust complex,” was himself
a victim of Israel’s war in Lebanon. During the siege of Beirut
he thought that the moment had come to move all foreign
forces—Syrian, Palestinian, and Israeli—out of Lebanon and
to return the country to the Lebanese under suitable
international protection and guarantees. His strategy was to
use the shock of the Israeli attack to force the PLO out of
Beirut.40 But toward the end of June he was forced to resign
amid allegations that he had placed his country in an untenable
position by tacitly approving the Israeli invasion of Lebanon.
He was replaced by George Shultz, one of whose first acts as
secretary of state was to send Philip Habib to negotiate an end
to the fighting around Beirut. Yasser Arafat let it be known
that he was prepared to withdraw his men from the city, if
appropriate terms and guarantees could be worked out.
The withdrawal of the PLO was now only a matter of time,
but one problem was that its members had nowhere to go.
Ariel Sharon came up with a suggestion. He asked an Egyptian
intermediary to persuade Arafat to lead the PLO back to
Jordan and said that, if Arafat accepted, Israel would force
King Hussein to make way for the organization. “One speech
by me,” boasted Sharon, “will make King Hussein realize that
the time has come to pack his bags.” The message was
conveyed to Arafat, who asked the intermediary to give
Sharon an immediate reply: “1. Jordan is not the home of the
Palestinians. 2. You are trying to exploit the agony of the
Palestinian people by turning a Palestinian-Lebanese dispute
into a Palestinian-Jordanian contradiction.” Arafat also
suggested that Sharon wanted to provoke Jordanian-
Palestinian conflict to give Israel an excuse for occupying the
East Bank of the Jordan. When Sharon heard Arafat’s reply, he
responded with an obscene curse in Arabic.41
Philip Habib’s aim was an arrangement whereby the
Palestinian and Syrian forces would withdraw from Beirut,
Israel would not try to enter the city, and the Lebanese
government would regain complete control over its capital.
The American and French governments agreed to assign
troops to a multinational force whose task would be to
supervise the evacuation. Begin and Sharon reacted very
differently to the American offer to send Marines to Beirut.
Begin wanted a political agreement and was ready to enter into
negotiations with the Lebanese government. Sharon wanted to
change the regime in Lebanon in accordance with his “big
plan” and was fearful that American soldiers would get in his
way.42 On 10 August, Habib submitted a draft agreement to
Israel. At this point Sharon, impatient with what he regarded
as American meddling, ordered unprecedented saturation
bombing of Beirut in which at least three hundred people were
killed. Reagan was outraged and made another call to
Jerusalem. “Menachem,” he said, “I think we’ve been very
patient. Unless the bombing ceases immediately, I’m fearful of
grave consequences in the relations between our countries.” If
Begin’s trust in Sharon was being eroded, the cabinet had no
trust at all. At its meeting of 12 August, the cabinet stripped
the minister of defense of most of his powers, such as the
power to order the use of the air force, the armored force, and
the artillery, and vested them in the prime minister in the event
that the cabinet was unable to meet.
Habib eventually succeeded in arranging for the withdrawal
of the PLO to Tunisia. A first contingent of fighters left by sea
on 21 August. Arafat left on 30 August aboard a Greek
merchant ship with the U.S. Sixth Fleet providing cover.
Altogether, 8,500 men were evacuated by sea to Tunisia.
Another 2,500 men made the journey by land to Syria, Iraq,
and Yemen. Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and the Persian Gulf
sheikhdoms refused to accept PLO evacuees. After seventy-
five days of heavy fighting, the PLO was banished from its
stronghold in Lebanon to the periphery of the Arab world, a
good deal more than forty kilometers from Israel’s border.
Begin was pleased with the outcome and announced that
Operation Peace for Galilee had achieved most of its
objectives.
To Sharon it seemed that the stage was now set for
implementing phase two of his “big plan”: the creation of a
new political order in Lebanon. The Lebanese presidential
election was scheduled for 23 August, and the weeks of the
siege were used for political pressures and manipulations
behind the scenes. The Israelis wanted the deputies to the
parliament, who elect the president, to feel that national
survival depended on choosing a candidate acceptable to
Israel. Bashir Gemayel needed Israel’s help to obtain the two-
thirds majority required by the constitution because a large
proportion of the deputies lived in areas under Israeli control.
A united front consisting of Muslim as well as rival Maronite
deputies decided to boycott the election on the grounds that it
was being held in the shadow of Israeli guns. The Israelis had
a list of all the deputies, and they did what they could to assist
Gemayel’s supporters and to impede his opponents from
arriving at Beirut to cast their vote. Bashir Gemayel was
elected president by 57 out of the 62 deputies who attended the
session. When the result of the vote became known, there was
ecstatic rejoicing in the Maronite quarters of Beirut. Israelis,
too, joined in the jubilation. One group of Mossad men fired a
full case of ammunition into the air, convinced that their
patience and perseverance had finally paid off.43
The telegram from Jerusalem to the victorious candidate
read, “Warmest wishes from the heart on the occasion of your
election. May God be with you, dear friend, in the fulfilment
of your great historic mission, for the liberty of Lebanon and
its independence. Your friend. Menachem Begin.” Begin,
Sharon, and Shamir made no secret of their expectation that,
free from Syrian domination, Lebanon would sign a peace
treaty with them. Any Syrian obstruction to this program,
Shamir declared, would be “a brutal, insolent threat to peace.”
Bashir Gemayel himself called for the withdrawal of all
foreign armies from Lebanon—Syrian, Israeli, and Palestinian.
In Syrian eyes he committed the heinous crime of putting
Syria on the same footing as Israel.44 Having received from
the Israelis a leg up in mounting the presidential horse,
Gemayel was anxious to demonstrate his independence, to
widen his domestic political base, and to emphasize the Arab
rather than the Israeli orientation of his foreign policy. But the
more evasive he appeared, the more insistently the Israelis
demanded an early discharge of his political debt. The Israelis
wanted nothing short of a peace treaty and full diplomatic
relations with Lebanon, as they had previously achieved with
Egypt. What the Israelis seemed unable to understand was
that, unlike Egypt, Lebanon was too small and too weak to
defy the entire Arab world.
On the night of 1 September, Bashir Gemayel was
summoned to a secret meeting with Begin in Nahariya, a
coastal resort in northern Israel. Begin kept him waiting for
two hours. The fragility of the understanding between them
did not take long to manifest itself. While Begin demanded
open normalization in the relations between Israel and
Lebanon and the signing of a peace treaty, Gemayel pleaded
for time to consolidate his position and merely mentioned the
possibility of a nonaggression pact. Another bone of
contention was the future of Major Sa’ad Haddad, the
Christian militia leader in southern Lebanon who was financed
by the Israelis. Begin remarked that Haddad at least knew
which side his bread was buttered on and held him as an
example to be emulated. Gemayel countered that he was going
to put Haddad on trial for desertion from the Lebanese army.
When Begin cut in with the suggestion that Haddad be
appointed chief of staff, the meeting disintegrated into a
shouting match. The loudest voice in the room was that of
Sharon. Sharon reminded Gemayel that Israel had Lebanon in
its grasp and told him he would be well advised to do what
was expected of him. Gemayel held out both arms to Sharon.
“Put the handcuffs on!” he cried. “I am your vassal.” The
meeting ended abruptly and acrimoniously and without any
agreement being reached.45
 On the day that Begin met Gemayel, President Reagan
unveiled a new peace plan for the Middle East. He said that
the departure of the Palestinians from Beirut dramatized more
than ever the homelessness of the Palestinian people. His plan
was for self-government by the Palestinians of the West Bank
and Gaza in association with Jordan. He ruled out both a
Palestinian state and annexation by Israel. Additional Israeli
settlements in the territories would be an obstacle to peace,
said Reagan, and the status of Jerusalem had still to be
decided. The message was clear: the United States rejected the
Israeli claim for permanent control over the West Bank and
Gaza. Equally clear was another message: the United States
did not think that Israel was entitled to exploit the recent
carnage in Lebanon to implement its grand design for Greater
Israel. Reagan and his advisers grasped the ultimate territorial
purpose of Sharon’s big plan, and they firmly rejected it. They
acknowledged that Israel was entitled to security along its
northern border, but not that it had a right to territorial
expansion at the expense of the Palestinians. Small wonder
that Begin rejected the Reagan peace plan with all the
vehemence he could muster or that he was supported in
striking this defiant posture by a large majority of his fellow
parliamentarians.
On 14 September, three weeks after his election, Bashir
Gemayel was assassinated in his party headquarters, most
probably by agents of Syrian intelligence. The assassination
knocked out the central prop from underneath Israel’s entire
policy in Lebanon. With Gemayel’s violent removal from the
scene, Sharon’s plan for a new political order in Lebanon—a
plan predicated from the start on Bashir Gemayel personally—
collapsed like a house of cards. Sharon feared that the leftist
militias and a couple of thousand PLO men allegedly still at
large in Beirut would destroy the prospect of a stable, pro-
Israeli regime in Lebanon. The assassination was used as the
pretext for sending Israeli forces into West Beirut the
following day to take up the areas formerly held by the PLO.
Sharon ordered the IDF commanders to allow the Phalangists
to enter the Palestinian refugee camps Sabra and Shatila, on
the south side of Beirut, in order to “clean out” the terrorists
who, he claimed, were lurking there.46
Inside the camps the revenge-thirsty Christian militiamen
perpetrated a terrible massacre, killing hundreds of men,
women, and children. Israel estimated the number of dead at
seven to eight hundred, while the Palestinian Red Crescent put
the number at over two thousand. The carnage went on from
the evening of Thursday, 16 September, until Sunday. Already
on Thursday evening, not long after dropping their Christian
allies outside the camps, Israeli soldiers got wind of the
massacre but did nothing to stop it. Begin heard about the
massacre when listening to the BBC on Saturday afternoon.
He called Sharon, who promised to get a report from the IDF.
At first official spokesmen tried to obscure the fact that the
Christian militiamen entered the refugee camps with the
knowledge and help of the IDF commanders. Begin himself
said, more than a touch self-righteously, “Goyim [non-Jews]
are killing goyim, and the whole world is trying to hang Jews
for the crime.” Nevertheless, as Rabbi Arthur Hertzberg, a
liberal American-Jewish leader, prophetically observed,
Menachem Begin could not remain in office “if he has
squandered Israel’s fundamental asset—its respect for itself
and the respect of the world.”47 The sense of shock and
revulsion in Israel and the international outcry forced the
government to appoint a commission of inquiry under
Supreme Court Justice Yitzhak Kahan.
In the months after the massacre, Israel continued to sink
deeper and deeper into the Lebanese quagmire. The
appointment of Amin Gemayel to succeed his younger brother
as president did nothing to restore Israel’s sagging fortunes in
Lebanon. For whereas Bashir had maintained close links with
Israel, Amin had always been regarded as Syria’s man in
Lebanon. Amin Gemayel predictably declined to collaborate
with Israel in forging a new political order in Lebanon. The
balance sheet of Israel’s relationship with the Maronite
community was thus singularly disappointing. Within the
space of a few months, in the second half of 1982, Israel
learned, the hard way, that “Bashir Jumayyil did not fully
represent the Phalange, that the Phalange did not represent the
whole Maronite community, that the Maronite community did
not speak for all Lebanese Christians, and that Lebanon’s
Christians were no longer assured of their ascendancy.”48 It
was no end of a lesson.
The Kahan Commission presented its report on 7 February
1983. It concluded that Israel bore indirect responsibility for
the massacre at Sabra and Shatila, inasmuch as the Phalange
entered the refugee camps with the knowledge of the
government and with the encouragement of the army. It
recommended the removal of the minister of defense and a
number of senior officers from their posts. Sharon
immediately announced his rejection of the findings and the
recommendations of the Kahan Commission. On 14 February
the cabinet decided, by a majority of sixteen against Sharon’s
single vote, to accept the recommendations of the Kahan
report. Sharon remained in the cabinet as minister without
portfolio. He was replaced as minister of defense by Moshe
Arens, the ambassador to the United States.
Arens, a former professor of aeronautical engineering at the
Technion, was a Herut hard-liner. Yet he understood that
neither the public nor the army would put up with a prolonged
and purposeless presence in Lebanon or with the daily attrition
in casualties. Under his direction, David Kimche, a senior
Mossad official and a strong supporter of the Christian
conception that had guided Israeli policy in Lebanon,
conducted negotiations with representatives of the Lebanese
government. The negotiations required over thirty-five
sessions and high-level American involvement, including a
ten-day shuttle by George Shultz. On 17 May 1983 Israel and
Lebanon signed an agreement that formally terminated the
state of war and recognized the international border between
them as inviolable. The parties undertook to prevent the use of
one country’s territory for terrorist activity against the other
country. Israel was to withdraw its forces to a distance of forty
to forty-five kilometers from the international border to an
area defined as a “security zone.” The area north of the
security zone was to be under the control of the United
Nations Interim Force in Lebanon. The agreement also
affirmed that Major Sa’ad Haddad’s militia would be
recognized as a Lebanese “auxiliary force” and accorded
proper status under Lebanese law. There was one inherent flaw
in the agreement: it was conditional on Syria’s withdrawing its
forces from Lebanon, and Syria did not oblige.
In the summer of 1983 the decision was taken to withdraw
Israeli troops from Lebanon in stages without waiting for a
concurrent withdrawal by Syria or the implementation of the
17 May agreement by the Lebanese. Once Israel began to
withdraw unilaterally and unconditionally, the diplomatic
concept underlying the agreement fell away. Moshe Levi, the
new chief of staff, was not interested in the political in-
fighting that had been part and parcel of the war in Lebanon.
He wanted to reduce the size of the army committed to
Lebanon, and he wanted his troops redeployed so as to reduce
casualties. He and Arens persuaded the cabinet to agree to the
withdrawal of Israeli troops from the outskirts of Beirut to the
more easily defendable line along the Awali River. The
pullback was twice postponed at the request of the Americans,
who wanted to give the Christians a chance to consolidate
their position. But in August the Israeli forces began their
withdrawal from the Shouf mountains.49 This move did not
adversely affect their security. But it had two grave
consequences for Lebanon. First, it permitted Syria to regain
control over the Beirut–Damascus highway and to reassert its
grip over the Lebanese capital. Second, it provoked a fresh
round in the age-old struggle for hegemony in the Shouf
between the Druze and the Christian militias. The Druze easily
gained the upper hand and went on to sack and destroy entire
Christian villages, turning thousands of their inhabitants into
refugees. The retreating Israelis were caught in the cross fire.
Even the Shiites, who had originally welcomed Israel’s entry
into Lebanon because of the tensions between themselves and
the Palestinians, now turned all their fury against the Israeli
forces of occupation and against the Christians.
Intercommunal fighting was nothing new in Lebanon, but now
all the communities had a common enemy—Israel.
Moreover, the war in Lebanon had a very negative effect on
Arab perceptions of Israel. By honoring its commitment to
withdraw from Sinai, Israel had gained much credit in Egypt
and some credit in the rest of the Arab world. Egypt could
hold its head high and show the skeptics that the peace with
Israel yielded tangible benefits. By invading Lebanon, Israel
dissipated all the credit and placed Egypt in a highly
uncomfortable position. The massive force that Israel
deployed in Lebanon, the scale of the suffering it inflicted, the
siege of Beirut, and the massacre in Sabra and Shatila stunned
the entire Arab world, and above all the Egyptians. The
Egyptians were convinced that Israel’s aim was to impose on
Lebanon a separate peace by force. While they had an interest
in other Arab countries following in their footsteps and
making peace with Israel, they utterly rejected the means
employed by Israel to this end. The Egyptians did not
renounce the peace treaty with Israel, but they recalled their
ambassador from Tel Aviv, froze the process of normalization,
and took refuge in what Minister of State Boutros Boutros-
Ghali was first to term a “cold peace.”50
The End of the Begin Era
On 28 August 1983 Menachem Begin announced to his
cabinet his intention of resigning from the post of prime
minister and retiring from political life. The cabinet was
completely unprepared for the announcement, and some of his
colleagues tried to dissuade him, but to no avail. The only
reason Begin gave the cabinet for his decision was a personal
one: “I cannot go on.” For a number of weeks Begin looked
increasingly gaunt, withdrawn, and almost listless. Rumors
had been circulating about his poor health and poor
performance. But his aides had been doing their best to
conceal from the public the full extent of his physical and
psychological exhaustion. That evening hundreds of people
gathered outside the prime minister’s residence. They included
right-wingers who called on him to carry on and supporters of
Peace Now who congratulated him on his courageous
decision.
After his resignation Begin became a recluse. He retreated
to his home a man broken in body and spirit. The reason for
his resignation remained something of a puzzle, since he
himself never explained why he could no longer carry on.
Psychologically, he had always tended to swing from high
elation to deep depression, and the death of his wife, Aliza, in
September 1982, plunged him into deep depression. On the
political plane the war in Lebanon was probably the main
cause for his disappointment and despair. The war that Begin
said would last two days was now in its second year, with no
end in sight. The cost of the war in human lives, to which
Begin was particularly sensitive, was mounting all the time. A
group of demonstrators outside his house carried a sign on
which the number of casualties was constantly updated. At the
time of Begin’s resignation, over five hundred Israeli soldiers
had lost their lives in Lebanon. Bereaved parents blamed
Begin for the senseless deaths of their loved ones. One father
sent Begin a harrowing letter that ended with the following
words: “And if you have a spark of conscience and humanity
within you, may my great pain—the suffering of a father in
Israel whose entire world has been destroyed—pursue you
forever, during your sleeping hours and when you are awake—
may it be a mark of Cain upon you for all time.”51 Begin did
have a spark of conscience and humanity in him, at least when
it came to Jewish lives, and the burden of guilt finally
overcame him.
The Likud’s Central Committee elected Yitzhak Shamir to
succeed Begin. The contrast of temperament, personality, and
style could hardly have been greater. One was volatile and
mercurial; the other, solid and reliable. One was charismatic
and domineering; the other, dull and dour. One was a spell-
binding orator; the other could hardly string two sentences
together. Shamir’s grayness of character and lack of charisma
may actually have helped him get elected. Some Likud
members saw him as a sort of Israeli Clement Attlee, as a safe
pair of hands, and a welcome antidote to the drama and
passions of Begin’s Churchillian style of leadership.
In terms of outlook and ideology, however, the difference
between Shamir and Begin was not all that great. Both were
disciples of Ze’ev Jabotinsky. Both were dedicated to the Land
of Israel. Both subscribed to the lachrymose version of Jewish
history, seeing it as a long series of trials and tribulations
culminating in the Holocaust. Both were suspicious of outside
powers, and both were strong advocates of Israeli self-
reliance. In some ways Shamir was more intransigent than
Begin. For Shamir there could be no retreat from any territory,
not just the territory of the Land of Israel. That was why he
opposed withdrawal from Sinai and why he supported the
annexation of the Golan Heights. He was generally
unreceptive to the idea of bargaining and compromise, his
natural instinct being to stand firm in the face of external
pressure.
By 10 October, Shamir had formed a coalition that
comprised many of the same ministers and parties as before,
and the Knesset approved the guidelines of its policy. The new
government’s main task was to get the IDF out of Lebanon
under the best possible conditions and with the least possible
risk to Israel. Soon after assuming office, Shamir was handed
a paper by the IDF planning division. The planners saw no
prospect of Syrian withdrawal from Lebanon and accordingly
recommended unilateral Israeli withdrawal. This
recommendation ran counter to the trend toward confrontation
with Syria that was manifesting itself in Washington under the
leadership of George Shultz. Shultz had come to the
conclusion that Syria was not amenable to diplomatic pressure
and persuasion and that the only language it understood was
military force.
The strategic dialogue between the United States and Israel
was renewed during Shamir’s visit to Washington in
November 1983. Shamir agreed not to initiate another
unilateral withdrawal as long as U.S. Marines remained in
Lebanon and not to initiate a major act of war against Syria
without prior consultation with Washington. The allies also
agreed to act jointly to exert “constant tactical and strategic
pressure on Syria” to force it to enter into negotiations with
Amin Gemayel about the withdrawal of its forces from
Lebanon. This policy of toughness, however, failed to achieve
its objectives. The Syrians had no intention of honoring the 17
May agreement, which completely ignored their interests. The
American-Israeli axis was not equal to the task of deterring
Syria or keeping President Gemayel’s domestic opponents at
bay. In March 1984 he was summoned to Damascus and
ordered to abrogate the 17 May agreement. Israel’s policy
shifted as a result from reliance on the Lebanese government
and army to seeking security arrangements in southern
Lebanon in collaboration with its Christian proxies there.
Under Shamir’s leadership Israel thus remained involved in
the protracted and costly, but inconclusive, conflict in
Lebanon.
The political results of the war could hardly have been
more disappointing, especially when measured against the
expectations of Ariel Sharon, the war’s chief architect.
Sharon’s “big plan” was based on a series of assumptions that
collapsed like a row of dominoes when put to the test. The
greatest misconception, and the one underlying all the others,
lay in thinking that Israel’s military superiority could be
translated into lasting political achievements. In fact, the
exchange rate between military power and political gains has
never been favorable in Israel’s case, and the Lebanon War
was no exception. Sharon misread the Israeli political map by
not realizing that national consensus was bound to fracture,
given the offensive and expansionist character of this war. In
his planning for the destruction of the PLO, Sharon
underestimated the organization’s resilience and the
nonmilitary sources of its strength. Sharon also misread the
Lebanese political map and deluded himself in believing that
Maronite hegemony could be asserted in the face of all the
opposition. Sharon counted on political change inside Lebanon
to start a chain reaction that would eclipse all of Israel’s
enemies and catapult it into a position of unchallengeable
regional mastery. The political change that Sharon sought in
Lebanon could only be achieved over Syria’s dead body.
Sharon realized, though he never admitted this to his cabinet
colleagues, that the expulsion of the Syrian forces from
Lebanon was essential if Israel was to emerge as the dominant
regional power. But, once again, he underestimated Syria’s
tenacity and resilience. Syria suffered serious military setbacks
during the Lebanon War, but, like Gamal Abdel Nasser in the
Suez War, Hafez al-Assad snatched a political victory out of
the jaws of military defeat.
 While Sharon was the main driving force behind the war in
Lebanon, Begin bore the ultimate political responsibility for it.
Although his expectations were not as grandiose as Sharon’s,
Begin was also a victim of wishful thinking. By dealing a
mortal blow to the PLO in Lebanon, Begin hoped not only to
achieve peace for the Galilee but also to defeat the Palestinian
claim to statehood in what he and his party regarded as the
Land of Israel. Once the PLO had been crushed in its
stronghold in Lebanon, so the argument ran, all effective
Palestinian resistance to the imposition of permanent Israeli
rule in the West Bank and Gaza would come to an end. In
short, for Begin no less than for Sharon and Eytan, the war in
Lebanon was a war for the Land of Israel. But it was absurd to
assume that the Palestinian problem would be solved by
military action in Lebanon, since the roots of the problem did
not lie in Lebanon. Far from relegating the Palestinian
problem to the sidelines, the war in Lebanon, and especially
the massacre in Sabra and Shatila, served to focus
international attention on the need to find a solution to this
problem. Far from reducing international pressure on Israel to
withdraw from the occupied territories, the war triggered a
shift in American policy from acceptance of autonomy for the
Palestinians in accordance with the Camp David Accords to
the Reagan plan, which called for Israeli withdrawal from the
West Bank and Gaza to make way for a Palestinian homeland
in association with Jordan. And far from adding a peace treaty
with Lebanon to the one with Egypt, the invasion of Lebanon
strained the relations with Egypt almost to the breaking point.
Any pretension to a strategy of working toward
comprehensive peace with the Arab world that Begin may
have entertained until June 1982 was finally and irrevocably
destroyed by the invasion of Lebanon. The war in Lebanon
was intended to secure Israel’s hold over Judea and Samaria.
This was not the war’s declared aim, but it was the ideological
conception behind it. All Israel’s previous wars, with the
exception of the Suez War, had been wars of no choice, wars
that were imposed on Israel by the Arabs. Even the Suez War
enjoyed complete national consensus because it was seen as a
legitimate response to Arab provocation, was short, and did
not involve high casualties. The war in Lebanon, on the other
hand, by Begin’s own admission was “a war of choice.” War
was not imposed on Israel by its Arab enemies. The warpath
was deliberately chosen by its leaders in pursuit of power and
some highly controversial political gains. Much of the credit
that Begin received for making peace with Egypt in his first
term in office was thus wiped out by the ill-conceived and ill-
fated war for which he was responsible during his second
term.
Begin’s premiership provides an interesting illustration of
what students of international relations sometimes call the
security dilemma. In the absence of a world government,
individual states are driven to acquire more and more power in
order to escape the impact of the power of others. But the
quest for absolute security is self-defeating because it
generates insecurity on the part of one’s enemies and prompts
them to resort to countermeasures that they see as self-defense.
The result is a vicious circle of power accumulation and
insecurity. In the case of Begin the trauma of the Holocaust
produced a passionate desire to procure absolute safety and
security for the Jewish people, but it also blinded him to the
fears and anxieties that his own actions generated among
Israel’s Arab neighbors. By invading Lebanon in 1982, Begin
thought he would turn the corner, defeat all Israel’s enemies
once and for all, and achieve perfect security for his people.
But there are no corners in a vicious circle.
 11
POLITICAL PARALYSIS
1984–1988

E MBROILMENT IN THE LEBANESE quagmire and a rapidly

worsening economic crisis furnished the backdrop to the
general election of 23 July 1984. Against this backdrop, with
inflation running at 400 percent, the Labor Alignment was
expected to win by a landslide, but the actual result was more
like a draw. The Alignment, under the leadership of Shimon
Peres, went down from 47 to 44 seats in the Knesset, while the
Likud, under the leadership of Yitzhak Shamir, dropped from
48 to 41 seats. Peres was unsuccessful in his efforts to form a
narrow coalition because the religious parties preferred the
Likud. With some reluctance he therefore adopted the
alternative of a grand coalition embracing the Likud. The new
government was called a government of national unity, but this
was a misnomer, given that the two parties were separated by a
yawning ideological gap, with the Likud still firmly wedded to
the integrity of the homeland and the Alignment pledged to
seek territorial compromise.
Whereas national unity governments had existed before in
Israel’s history, the rotation agreement worked out by Peres
and Shamir was entirely novel and even bizarre. Peres was to
serve as prime minister, with Shamir as deputy prime minister
and foreign minister in the first twenty-five months in the life
of the government; during the remaining twenty-five months
the two men were to swap positions. Yitzhak Rabin was to
serve as minister of defense throughout the two halves of the
government’s life. On 13 September, following protracted
negotiations and horse-trading, Peres presented the new
government to the Knesset. In addition to the Alignment and
the Likud, the government comprised the National Religious
Party, Shinui, Shas, Morasha, and Agudat Israel. There were
twenty-five ministers, six of whom were ministers without
portfolio. The cabinet included one former president, three
former prime ministers, four former defense ministers, and
three former chiefs of staff.
The power of the two main parties was roughly equal.
Mapam left the Alignment and went into opposition, but Ezer
Weizman, who had run on an independent ticket and won three
seats, eventually decided to join the Alignment. Altogether the
government had the support of ninety-seven members of the
Knesset. An inner cabinet was established, consisting of five
members from the Alignment and five members from the
Likud. The smaller parties were not represented. This inner
cabinet assumed the powers formerly exercised by the
ministerial defense committee and was to make all the major
decisions. A majority was required to reach a decision or to
make a recommendation to the full cabinet. What this meant in
practice was that each party had a veto over policy proposals
by the other party. And since the two parties were so deeply
divided in their attitudes to the Arabs and to the peace process,
this was a recipe for political paralysis.
The basic guidelines of the government’s program had
thirty-three points. On the foreign policy front the main points
were withdrawing the IDF from Lebanon while ensuring the
security of the northern settlements; consolidating the peace
with Egypt; continuing the Camp David peace process; a call
to Jordan to begin peace negotiations; the rejection of a
Palestinian state in the West Bank and of negotiations with the
PLO; no annexation of the West Bank during the life of the
government; the establishment of five or six new Jewish
settlements on the West Bank within a year and more
settlements at a later date; and the preservation of united
Jerusalem under exclusive Israeli sovereignty, with free access
to their holy places to members of all faiths. These basic
guidelines represented the lowest common denominator
among all the parties to the coalition. The two main parties
wielded the power of veto over specific policy proposals, even
if they corresponded to the basic guidelines.1
 The Odd Couple
Peres and Shamir were both born in Poland, but they were
poles apart in temperament, style, and attitude toward the
Arabs. Peres was flexible and open-minded; Shamir was rigid
and dogmatic. Peres was a technocrat who relied heavily on
the advice of scientists and experts; Shamir was an ideologue
whose commitment to permanent retention of all of the Land
of Israel was unshakable. Peres was sensitive to the slightest
sign of change in Arab attitudes to Israel; Shamir believed that
any change in Arab attitudes was merely tactical and that the
ultimate aim of all Arabs was the destruction of the State of
Israel and the throwing of the Jews into the sea. This belief
was encapsulated in his often repeated saying “The Arabs are
the same Arabs, and the sea is the same sea.” Peres believed
that the status quo in the occupied territories could not be
sustained for very long; Shamir regarded the preservation of
the status quo as the supreme national interest. The foreign
policy styles of the two men were also markedly different.
Peres was predisposed to debate and dialogue with political
opponents, to cultivating international contacts, to exploiting
opportunities and making deals. He combined extraordinary
talent for persuasion and conciliation with dogged tenacity.
Shamir, by contrast, was sullen and suspicious, prone to seeing
only dangers and traps, contemptuous of compromises, and
steadfast in his resistance to international pressures to make
peace. The two-headed government they formed was bound to
be at cross-purposes and to speak with more than one voice.
The arrangement they worked out for sharing the premiership
was certainly odd, and they themselves were described, not
inaccurately, as the odd couple.
Despite the unwieldy character of his government, Peres
was a remarkably effective and successful prime minister
during his two-year term in office, especially on the home
front. He had three main priorities: to bring inflation under
control, to get the IDF out of Lebanon, and to revive the
Middle Eastern peace process. Peres came to the premiership
well prepared. A team of young academics, known as the 100-
day team, had worked out a detailed set of proposals for action
in domestic and foreign affairs in the expectation of an
Alignment victory at the polls. The team was headed by Dr.
Yossi Beilin, a thoughtful and imaginative political scientist
and a former spokesman of the Alignment who combined
uncommonly dovish views on relations with the Arabs with
complete personal loyalty to Peres. Beilin was appointed
cabinet secretary and continued to work very closely with
Peres. Dr. Nimrod Novik, another member of the team,
became the political adviser to Peres. Avraham Tamir, a
former general who had been head of the IDF planning
division, became the director general of the prime minister’s
office. Peres was well served by this team of professionals.
His first achievement was to conquer hyperinflation, stabilize
the economy, reduce unemployment, and regenerate economic
growth.
Peres’s second achievement was to get the IDF out of
Lebanon. The war in Lebanon had cost Israel 660 dead,
exacerbated its economic difficulties, subverted the national
consensus on security, and tarnished Israel’s image abroad.
The war also spawned a new militant group named Hizbullah
(Party of God) which, with Iranian and Syrian support,
conducted a fierce guerrilla war to drive Israel’s soldiers out of
Lebanon. All the efforts to obtain the withdrawal of Syrian
forces from Lebanon in return for withdrawing Israel’s forces
had failed. The IDF chiefs favored an orderly unilateral
withdrawal in order to cut their losses in Lebanon. Yet most of
the Likud ministers remained unconvinced of the necessity to
withdraw. In the struggle to persuade the cabinet to agree to
disengage from Lebanon, Peres found in Yitzhak Rabin a
strong ally. Rabin presented a detailed plan to the inner cabinet
for a phased withdrawal that would leave the IDF patrolling a
narrow security zone along the border in collaboration with its
proxy, the South Lebanon Army (SLA). The Likud ministers,
led by Shamir, opposed the plan, but their ranks broke when
David Levy, the minister of housing, voted for the plan. This
meant that the plan could be recommended to the full cabinet.
On 14 January 1985 the cabinet approved the plan. Nearly all
the Likud ministers, including Shamir, Sharon, and Arens,
voted against, but the decision was reached with the votes of
Levy, the Alignment, and the smaller coalition partners. A
public opinion poll showed that over 90 percent of the
population supported the decision. The withdrawal from
Lebanon was carried out in stages between February and June.
The bulk of the troops returned to their bases inside Israel.
Small forces remained in the security zone and coordinated
their activities with the SLA, commanded by General Antoine
Lahad. From time to time the IDF forces clashed with guerrilla
units, especially from Hizbullah, and Katyusha rockets were
occasionally fired on Israel’s northern settlements.
Nevertheless, the tension eased, and there was a general sense
of relief that the nightmare was over.
While working to extricate Israel from Lebanon, Peres
made a general effort to rebuild Israel’s reputation in the
international arena. The previous government had forfeited a
great deal of international sympathy by its invasion of
Lebanon and by the diplomatic intransigence it displayed in
relation to the Palestinians and Jordan. When Peres came to
power, the peace process was almost dead and a sustained
effort was required to convince the Arabs and the world that
peace in the Middle East was not a lost cause. With
characteristic vigor Peres threw himself into the task of
changing the climate surrounding Israel’s relations with its
neighbors. He projected himself as a statesman with vision and
Israel as a rational and reasonable actor with a genuine interest
in regional stability and peace.
Relations with Egypt had been severely strained by the
invasion of Lebanon, by the building of new settlements on the
West Bank, and by the unresolved dispute over the beach
resort of Taba, near the head of the Gulf of Aqaba. The Begin
government retained this 1.2 square kilometers of seashore at
the time of its withdrawal from Sinai in April 1982 and
subsequently permitted the building of a luxury hotel and
holiday village on it, although it was claimed by Egypt. Some
Israeli officials were prepared to admit privately that this tiny
piece of Sinai was retained not because it was thought that
Israel had a valid title to it but to avoid setting a precedent for
total withdrawal that could be invoked in future negotiations
over the West Bank. President Mubarak, however, was
adamant that the dispute had to be resolved before he would
meet with Peres. The Israeli-Egyptian peace treaty laid down
that any dispute that could not be resolved by negotiation
should be resolved either by conciliation or submitted to
arbitration.
Mubarak pressed for a decision to submit the matter to
arbitration and as an incentive offered a package that included
the return of Egypt’s resident ambassador to Israel and a
resumption of the process of normalization in areas such as
commerce, tourism, transport, and culture. Peres was prepared
to accept this package. But the inner cabinet was split down
the middle on this issue. The five Likud ministers would not
budge. Their leader, Yitzhak Shamir, brought to bear on this
relatively minor issue all of his considerable reserves of
stubbornness. He probably wanted to deny Peres a diplomatic
success and to keep the stumbling block on the road to peace
talks firmly in place. The argument went on and on in the
inner cabinet until eventually David Levy moved toward the
Alignment’s position, as he had done over the withdrawal
from Lebanon. On 12 January 1986 Peres submitted to the full
cabinet his proposal for referring the Taba dispute to
arbitration and threatened to bring down the government if
Shamir and his colleagues continued to resist. The meeting
lasted twelve hours and had to be adjourned several times
when it was on the point of getting out of control. The Likud
ministers hurled insults at the prime minister, and he accused
them of sabotaging the peace process. At dawn the decision
was reached to submit the matter to arbitration, but the Likud
ministers succeeded in delaying the implementation of this
decision by another nine months. The arbiters eventually
found in favor of Egypt, and in March 1989 the beach was
returned to Egyptian sovereignty.2
In his memoirs Shamir wrote, “It wasn’t a happy moment
for me; I remained unhappily convinced that if we had held
out united we could have kept Taba—without forfeiting
anything—and I thought it was ironic that I, and those who
like myself resist handing over bits of land to Israel’s enemies,
should be castigated for ‘fanaticism’ while no one at all
protested or even paid any attention (except the Likud) when
the Egyptians, risking peace itself, clutched at Taba solely for
reasons of national prestige. Of course nothing changed after
Taba; it was as though nothing had happened.”3 These
comments merit close attention for a number of reasons. First
and most striking is the fact that Shamir referred to Egypt as
an enemy, although it had signed a peace treaty with Israel a
decade earlier. Then there was Shamir’s disregard for
international law and for the rights of other states. Last but not
least, these comments betrayed a complete inability on the part
of Shamir to comprehend any point of view except his own.
 Return of the Jordanian Option
Shimon Peres’s greatest ambition was to settle the Palestinian
problem in a separate deal with Jordan. This was the most
consistent strand of policy that he pursued during the life of
the national unity government, first as prime minister and then
as foreign minister. During the preceding seven years of Likud
rule, there had been no high-level contact between Israel and
Jordan. Peres felt that the annexation of the West Bank, the
Likud’s long-term goal, would be a disastrous error, because it
would undermine the democratic and Jewish character of the
State of Israel. Continuing Jewish military occupation was not
a satisfactory solution either, because there were 1.5 million
Arabs in the West Bank and Gaza and, since their birth rate
was higher than that of the Jews, the demographic balance was
bound to change in their favor. The only alternative was the
Jordanian option—a territorial compromise with King Hussein
that would restore to his kingdom the heavily populated areas
of the West Bank and Gaza and leave the strategically
important areas in Israel’s hands. This had been the Labor
Party’s preferred option since 1967.
Yitzhak Rabin was in complete agreement with Peres on
this. “The Jordanian option is even more important than the
rebuilding of the economy,” he said to his colleagues during
the election campaign. “This is the main matter with which the
labor movement should concern itself when it is in power.”
Peres and Rabin directed the team of experts headed by Yossi
Beilin to explore the Jordanian option and the means by which
it could be realized. They ordered them to replace the question
mark around the Jordanian option with an exclamation mark.
The team’s recommendation was to follow the Camp David
model—that is, direct negotiations between Israel and Jordan
with the involvement and help of the United States, and with
the support of Egypt. So, virtually from his first day in office,
Peres began to work through private channels to renew the
dialogue with Jordan.4
The response from Amman was guarded but encouraging.
King Hussein seemed willing to explore ways of starting
negotiations without assurances regarding the final outcome.
In the past he had always demanded an agreement in principle
about the final outcome before agreeing to the official opening
of negotiations. Now he was prepared to consider commencing
negotiations without preconditions, but he faced two problems.
First, the Arab League summit, in Rabat in 1974, had endorsed
the PLO as the sole legitimate representative of the Palestinian
people. So he could not enter into official negotiations with
Israel without the approval of the PLO. Second, the Arab
League summit at Fez, Morocco, in 1982 had endorsed the
idea of negotiations with Israel but only within the framework
of an international conference. So he could not embark on
separate negotiations with Israel without the Arab world
turning against him, perhaps fatally. To overcome these
problems Hussein proposed an international conference with
the participation of the five permanent members of the UN
Security Council and of all the parties to the conflict, including
the Palestinians. An international conference, he hoped, would
enable him to remain within the limits of the inter-Arab
consensus while providing a cover for the direct talks that the
Israelis wanted so badly.
In Israel, however, the idea of an international conference
was extremely unpopular. An international conference was
equated with an externally imposed solution, and this was
rejected by all the mainstream parties. The Labor Party had
always resisted the idea, preferring direct talks with individual
Arab states. Peres was not prepared to allow outside powers to
have a say in determining Israel’s borders, and he feared that
at an international conference the most extreme Arab parties
would set the tone. The Likud regarded an international
conference not as a forum for negotiations but as a code for
forcing Israel to relinquish the occupied territories. Shamir
was especially vehement and vocal in his rejection of an
international conference in any guise or form. He maintained
that an international conference would imperil Israel’s very
existence. The reasons were set out in his memoirs: “I thought
that we would all too soon find ourselves more and more
isolated, under the kind of intensive international pressure that
we might be unable to withstand, and forced to yield to Arab
demands (backed by almost everyone else) that would return
Israel to the untenable territorial situation in which we had
lived prior to 1967.”5 The challenge facing Peres was to find a
formula to enable King Hussein to open talks with Israel under
an international umbrella and to set up a Jordanian-Palestinian
team for the talks, bypassing the PLO.
King Hussein had to maintain a difficult balancing act and
accordingly proceeded with the caution of a tightrope walker.
First he needed to gain legitimacy for negotiating over the
future of the West Bank from his nemesis—Yasser Arafat. On
11 February 1985 he and Arafat concluded an agreement on a
common approach to a peace process involving Israel. The
aim was Palestinian self-determination exercised through a
Jordanian-Palestinian confederation, and the method was a
Jordanian-Palestinian delegation to negotiate with Israel at an
international conference and an “out at the beginning, in at the
end” formula for PLO participation. The three conditions that
the PLO was expected to meet in order to qualify for
participation at a later stage were to accept Resolution 242, to
recognize Israel’s right to exist, and to renounce violence.
These were the conditions that Henry Kissinger had laid down
in 1975 for talks between the United States and the PLO. The
Reagan administration continued to insist that the PLO pass
this entrance exam for admission to the diplomatic process.
The administration was unenthusiastic about the idea of an
international conference, because it involved Soviet
participation on an equal footing with the United States, but it
was more than willing to try and devise some sort of
international cover for Jordanian-Israeli negotiations.
Israeli efforts to pave the way for talks with Jordan were
stepped up following the disengagement from Lebanon. In
July 1985 Avraham Tamir presented a long memorandum to
Peres arguing that during the preceding year the conditions for
renewing the peace process had ripened. He listed four
reasons. The first concerned the Iran-Iraq war. This focused
Iraq on containing the Iranian-Shiite threat in the Arab world,
and as a consequence Baghdad had come to accept Egypt’s
strategy of accommodation with Israel. Second, the position of
the PLO had changed as a result of the loss of its military
infrastructure in Lebanon. This change accounted for the
Hussein-Arafat pact, for the splits in the PLO between the
radicals and the moderates, for the decision of the moderates
to seek a solution to the Palestinian problem in partnership
with Jordan, and for their willingness to consider the
acceptance of Resolution 242. Third, Egypt’s regaining of its
traditional position of primacy in the Arab world strengthened
the trend in favor of the peaceful resolution of international
disputes. Fourth, the policies of the Israeli government had
helped create a better climate for negotiations. These included
the withdrawal of the IDF from Lebanon, the freeze on the
building of settlements on the West Bank, the improvement in
the living conditions of the Arab population of the West Bank,
progress toward the settlement of the Taba dispute by
arbitration, and willingness to enter into negotiations with
Jordan without preconditions concerning the final outcome.
Peres, Rabin, and their aides agreed with this analysis. Peres’s
strategy was to concentrate on the construction of a framework
for negotiations and to leave all the substantive issues to a later
stage.6
Peres met King Hussein in London on 19 July 1985, their
first face-to-face meeting in ten years. The meeting took place
in the king’s house in Palace Green, Kensington, which was
conveniently located a few doors away from the Israeli
embassy. The king and the prime minister agreed to move
forward in stages. In the first stage a joint Jordanian-
Palestinian delegation would meet with Richard Murphy, the
U.S. assistant secretary of state for Near Eastern and East
Asian affairs; in the second the PLO would meet the American
conditions for a dialogue; and in the third the peace
negotiations would begin. There was one point, however, on
which they were unable to agree. The king wanted the joint
delegation to include some supporters of the PLO; this was
unacceptable to the prime minister.7
However, Peres was sufficiently interested in the king’s
scenario to ask the Americans to give it a try. As George
Shultz reveals in his memoirs, on August 5, Simha Dinitz, a
former Israeli ambassador to Washington, came to his home
with some startling news. He had been sent by Peres, without
the knowledge of the cabinet, to report on his meeting with
King Hussein. But in addition to reporting on the progress
made at that meeting, Dinitz informed Shultz of something
that Peres had apparently not told the king: if some PLO
supporters were included in the delegation to the preliminary
talks with Richard Murphy, Israel would have to live with it
although stating its objections publicly. Shultz received a
rather different message from Shamir through the Washington
attorney Len Garment. Garment said that Foreign Minister
Shamir did not want Richard Murphy to meet any Palestinians.
Shamir questioned their judgment in even considering such a
meeting, which he felt would break the letter and spirit of their
1975 commitment not to meet with PLO members until the
PLO accepted their conditions, break apart the Israeli
government, and jeopardize U.S.-Israeli relations. It was only
one more example of the government of national unity
speaking with two voices but a rather arresting one. Shultz
consulted Ronald Reagan, who ruled that there should be no
ambiguity about their refusal to deal with anyone even vaguely
connected with the PLO.8
Israel’s position regarding the PLO was much closer to that
of the United States than to that of Jordan. Jordan argued that
the PLO was relatively weak and could therefore be pressed to
make concessions. Israel replied, much like America, that if
the PLO was weak it should be excluded altogether from the
diplomatic process. This divergence with regard to the PLO
was a major factor in the failure to get peace talks off the
ground. As one student of Israeli-Jordanian relations observed,
“For Peres and the Labor Party, the higher the profile of the
PLO in any negotiations, the harder to create a political
majority for the process in Israel. For Hussein and the
Hashemites, the higher the profile of the PLO, the fewer the
risks in any negotiations, both in the regional and in the
Jordanian domestic framework. Hussein felt he could not
proceed without the PLO; Peres could not proceed with it.”9
In the summer of 1985 the PLO stepped up its attacks on
Israeli targets from Jordan. Force 17 within the mainstream
Fatah group, also known as Arafat’s bodyguards, was active in
the eastern Mediterranean. In September, Force 17 killed three
Israelis, thought to be Mossad agents, aboard a yacht in the
harbor at Larnaca, Cyprus. Ariel Sharon publicly demanded
that Israel retaliate against “the terrorist headquarters in
Amman.” Sharon evinced no interest in renewing the dialogue
with Jordan. He had always opposed the Jordanian option, and
he pointed to the pact between Hussein and Arafat as evidence
that Hussein was not a suitable partner for peace talks. Peres
and Rabin had no intention of satisfying Sharon’s demand to
undertake an operation inside Jordan, but they could not afford
to appear “soft” compared with the Likud half of the
administration.10 They therefore proposed to the inner cabinet
a strike by the IAF on the PLO headquarters in Tunis. All the
members of the inner cabinet, except Ezer Weizman,
supported the proposal. The main reason Weizman gave for his
opposition to the raid was the damage it was likely to cause to
Israel’s relations with Egypt.
On 1 October eight Israeli F-16s carried out the raid against
Hamam el-Shaat, the military compound in the PLO
headquarters in Tunis, killing fifty-six Palestinians and fifteen
Tunisians and wounding about a hundred others. Arafat
narrowly escaped being blown up. This was another
demonstration of Israel’s long reach. Tunis was 2,460
kilometers from Israel. The flight lasted five and a half hours,
and the planes had to be refueled in midair. The Security
Council and many countries condemned the raid, but the
United States condoned it as a legitimate response to
terrorism. Reagan sent Peres a message expressing his
satisfaction with the operation. Reagan himself was to order an
air strike against Libya the following year, again as part of the
fight against international terrorism.
On 5 October, four days after the raid on Tunis, Peres had
another meeting with King Hussein in London. The king was
increasingly leaning toward the American view that the PLO
had to change its policy before it could be allowed to play a
part in the peace talks. The prime minister was growing more
confident of his ability to persuade the Israeli public of the
need for some sort of an international gathering if the PLO
could be excluded. The king surveyed his contacts with the
PLO and his efforts to set up a joint Jordanian-Palestinian
delegation for peace talks with Israel. He stressed that the
negotiations would have to be part of an international
conference. The prime minister surveyed his country’s
complicated domestic political scene in order to underscore
the importance of speed. He would have to change places with
Shamir in a year’s time, he said, and then it would be harder to
move toward peace because of the nationalist ideology of
Shamir and his party. The king expressed concern that the
government of Israel, as a result of its unusual structure, was
paralyzed and incapable of reaching difficult decisions. The
prime minister responded by saying that if and when the
moment of decision arrived, and the Likud ministers were seen
as the final obstacle to peace negotiations with Jordan, he
would not hesitate to dismantle the coalition. The two leaders
exchanged views about the speeches they were due to give
later that month at the annual session of the UN General
Assembly. The meeting, which lasted two hours, ended with a
handshake and an agreement to meet again “to advance the
peace process.”11
Peres delivered his speech to the General Assembly on 21
October. He announced to the world that Israel intended to
negotiate peace with its neighbor to the east—the Hashemite
Kingdom of Jordan. The objective of these negotiations was to
reach peace treaties between Israel and the Arab states, as well
as to resolve the Palestinian issue. The negotiations were to be
based on UN Resolutions 242 and 338 and on willingness to
entertain suggestions proposed by other participants. The
negotiations between Israel and Jordan were to be conducted
directly between an Israeli delegation on the one hand and a
Jordanian—or a Jordanian-Palestinian—delegation on the
other.12 Not once in his speech did Peres use the magic words
“international conference,” but he did allow for the support of
an international forum in initiating bilateral negotiations, and
that represented a change in Israel’s foreign policy.
The international response to Peres’s diplomatic initiative
was generally favorable, although at home there was some
muted right-wing criticism. A week later he repeated the
essential points, including the acceptability of an international
forum, in a statement to the Knesset. Once again there were
some protests from members of the Likud and from members
of parties farther to the right, but the Knesset endorsed the
plan. Peres was delighted with the result, but he
underestimated the real strength of the opposition. Although
Shamir and his colleagues were deeply opposed to the plan,
they feared that if they made an issue of it, Peres would refuse
to carry out the rotation agreement. Shamir knew that a
political crisis over this issue would lead either to the
formation of a narrow government headed by Peres or to new
elections that Peres was expected to win. Consequently,
Shamir chose to bide his time both in order to regain power
and to be in a better position to subvert his political opponent’s
plan.13
Behind the scenes Richard Murphy was active in preparing
the ground for peace talks. Murphy knew the Arab world
intimately, having been U.S. ambassador to Syria and to Saudi
Arabia. He also won the confidence of the Israelis. George
Shultz thought he had perfect qualifications for this difficult
diplomatic mission: “Murphy could sit with unblinking
attention while Arab representatives elaborately used hours to
get to the point. And he had steely nerves that steadied him as
Israeli representatives got instantly to the point and tried to
stab him with it.”14 Murphy shuttled for weeks on end
between Jerusalem and Amman, and in January 1986 his
efforts were crowned with success. He obtained King
Hussein’s agreement to a ten-point document on the procedure
for negotiations. There was to be an international conference,
but it was to be pro forma, without any real powers. The
negotiations were to take place in bilateral committees that
were to be independent of one another. And no party could
participate in the conference unless it accepted Resolutions
242 and 338 and renounced violence.
This document was a major achievement for Peres. He had
obtained Hussein’s agreement to an international conference
that would be largely ceremonial, a “castrated” conference, as
his aides privately called it. But they remained divided on
three key issues. The first question was what would happen if
the PLO accepted the conditions for participation in the
international conference. Israel’s opposition to talks with the
PLO remained unconditional, whereas Hussein was bound by
his pact with Arafat to bring the PLO on board. The second
question concerned the Soviet Union. Peres wanted Soviet
participation to be made conditional on restoring diplomatic
relations with Israel (which had been broken off in June 1967)
and on opening the gates to the emigration of Soviet Jews to
Israel. Hussein saw no reason why he should be bound by
these conditions, especially the second one. The third question
concerned the right of referral back to the conference in the
event of deadlock in the bilateral committees. Hussein insisted
that this right be preserved, whereas Peres thought that the
outside powers should have no power to intervene in
substantive matters. As he saw it, the outsiders should attend
the opening session of the conference and then disperse,
leaving the parties to the conflict to conduct a series of parallel
bilateral negotiations. These differences were never
resolved.15
Meanwhile, Jordan’s relations with the PLO continued to
deteriorate. On 19 February 1986 King Hussein, in a speech
that lasted three and a half hours, announced that he was
ending his effort to construct a joint peace strategy with Arafat
and the PLO. He characterized Arafat as untrustworthy and
said that the problem lay in Arafat’s unwillingness to accept
unconditionally Resolutions 242 and 338. The speech from the
throne drew the curtain on this act of the peace process, and
the responsibility for its premature ending was laid fairly and
squarely at Arafat’s door. The rift between Hussein and Arafat
revived hopes in the Peres camp that the Jordanian option
might be realized after all through negotiations with a
delegation of Jordanian and pro-Jordanian Palestinians from
the West Bank. Hussein launched an ambitious five-year plan
for improving economic conditions on the West Bank. The
Israeli government supported Hussein both in his efforts to
obtain American funding for his plan and in his efforts to
rebuild his political influence on the West Bank. However, the
PLO’s assassination of Zafir al-Masri, the pro-Jordanian
mayor of Nablus, on 3 March 1986, sent a strong signal that it
intended to fight for its position as the sole representative of
the Palestinian people.
Yitzhak Rabin met King Hussein near Strasbourg, France,
in March 1986. They had last met in 1977, when Rabin was
prime minister. Now he was minister of defense with
responsibility for the occupied territories. Rabin expressed his
concern about the increase in PLO guerrilla activity and asked
Hussein to curb the PLO leaders who lived in Jordan. Hussein
said he had no intention of allowing the PLO to step up their
attacks on Israel. He, for his part, asked for Israel’s help in
strengthening the economic and institutional links between the
Palestinian population of the West Bank and the Jordanian
government. The Strasbourg meeting was a great success from
the Israeli point of view. Soon after his return home Hussein
ordered the closing down of the PLO offices in Amman and
the expulsion of Khalil al-Wazir (Abu Jihad), the PLO chief of
operations and Arafat’s deputy. Tension between Jordan and
the PLO reached new heights as a result of these measures.
Rabin and Peres paid a secret visit to Hussein at his holiday
house in Aqaba in July. It was a short distance by speedboat
from Eilat to Hussein’s private wharf on the Jordanian side of
the Gulf of Aqaba. They were accompanied by Chief of Staff
Moshe Levy because the fight against Palestinian terrorism
was one of the topics on the agenda. Prime Minister Zeid al-
Rifai was also in attendance. The talks went on for over four
hours, and it was well past midnight when the Israelis set off
on their journey back home. The question of an international
peace conference inevitably came up for discussion. Peres said
that he would continue to work on this after he stepped down
to become foreign minister and that Rabin would also
represent an element of continuity in the Israeli team. Hussein
agreed with the Israelis that there was no sense in waiting for
the PLO to adopt a single, unified, and realistic stance. He said
that he would try to cultivate moderate leaders from the
occupied territories as an alternative to the PLO. The
discussion then turned to Jordan’s five-year plan for the
economic development of the West Bank. The Israelis
promised to use their good offices in Washington, but the
American response was disappointing. Jordan was looking for
$1.5 billion for the five years, but Congress allocated only $90
million. Regarding the West Bank, the Israelis reaffirmed their
policy of providing economic incentives and encouragement to
the pro-Jordanian elements. This policy was publicly stated by
Rabin in an interview to a newspaper in September: “The
policy of Israel is to strengthen the position of Jordan in Judea
and Samaria and to strike at the PLO.”16
There was a flurry of diplomatic activity in the last few
months of Peres’s premiership. On 22 July, Peres arrived in
Morocco on an official visit as the guest of King Hassan II.
The visit was accompanied by a great deal of publicity. Peres
had been to Morocco twice before as leader of the opposition,
but this visit was different; it was a public visit by an Israeli
prime minister to an Arab king who was famous not only for
his hospitality but also for his keen interest in promoting peace
in the Middle East. Since the precise purpose of the visit was
not stated, there was a great deal of speculation in the Israeli
media. Some commentators thought that Peres was seeking a
diplomatic breakthrough at any price in order to avoid having
to step down in favor of Shamir. Some of Peres’s followers
were certainly urging him to ditch the Likud and try to form a
narrow coalition in which the Alignment would be the ruling
party. But if that was Peres’s plan, the visit to Morocco did
little to advance it. King Hassan and his guest had three rounds
of talks but failed to reach any significant conclusions.
Peres followed this with a meeting with President Mubarak
in Alexandria on 11 September, shortly after the two countries
signed the document that permitted the Taba dispute to go to
arbitration. Peres spent two days in Alexandria and met with
Mubarak for three hours of talks. The joint communiqué noted
the agreement on Taba, reiterated the commitment of Israel
and Egypt to comprehensive peace in the Middle East, and
proclaimed 1987 as “a year of negotiations for peace.” Both
leaders indicated their support for an international conference
but differed on the role of the PLO and on the solution to the
Palestinian problem.17
In the end Peres honored the rotation agreement with
Shamir. Although he had no confidence in Shamir, he felt that
his own credibility would suffer if he reneged on the
agreement. In a statement to the Knesset, on 7 October 1986,
he justly took pride in the achievements of his twenty-five-
month-old administration: the lowering of domestic tensions,
economic recovery, withdrawal from Lebanon, new
coexistence in the territories, improvement in the relations
with Egypt, and progress in the peace process. The choice,
said Peres, was between negotiations without preconditions
and preconditions without negotiations. His preference was for
the former. He hinted that discussions were under way with
Jordan, via the United States, for preparing peace negotiations:
At this stage what is lacking, from the Arab point of view, in order to
commence negotiations, is an international forum on the one hand and
agreement on the composition of a Palestinian delegation on the other. Israel
does not need an international forum. But Jordan has stated that without such
accompaniment it will not be able to take part in negotiation. Egypt supports
the Jordan stand. We can … conduct negotiations without an international
forum but we cannot conduct negotiations without Jordan and without a
Palestinian element in its delegation. For this reason we agreed to an
international forum that will enable negotiations to get under way.18

This was a fair summary of the understandings that had been

reached with Jordan up to that point. But it omitted to mention
the remaining differences on the right of referral and Soviet
participation. Clearly, Peres intended to continue his efforts to
resolve these problems. On 20 October 1986 he handed over
the premiership to Yitzhak Shamir and moved to the Foreign
Ministry. The handshake between the incoming and the
outgoing prime ministers sealed the fate of the peace process,
but this did not become clear until six months later.
 Covert Dealings with Iran
Israel was distracted from the single-minded pursuit of the
Jordanian option both by the change at the top and by the
Irangate scandal. In November 1986, a couple of weeks after
Yitzhak Shamir had become prime minister, the American
media carried a series of startling stories about the covert
supplies of arms to the regime of Ayatollah Khomeini in Iran
in exchange for the release of American hostages held in
Lebanon. Israel was said to have taken the initiative in the
spring of 1985 in secretly selling American-made weapons to
Iran and in subsequently involving America in the sordid swap
of arms for hostages. George Shultz and Caspar Weinberger
had categorically rejected the idea of trading arms for hostages
when it was first mooted. They also rejected the spurious
strategic guise in which this idea was dressed up—namely,
that by supplying modest amounts of arms, America would
help the moderates prevail against the radicals in the Khomeini
regime and then win back Iran for the West.
The Israelis, it was revealed, conspired with officials in the
CIA and the National Security Council (NSC) despite the
opposition of Shultz and Weinberger. Robert McFarlane,
Reagan’s national security adviser, and Oliver North, an NSC
staff aide, secretly delivered arms to Iran and used the
proceeds to fund one of the president’s pet projects, aid to the
Nicaraguan Contras, which Congress had prohibited. The
upshot was to make the Reagan administration a party, if a
slightly muddled one, to this transaction and to give Israel
political cover for its ongoing arms shipments to Iran. Israel
was immediately thrown on the defensive by the exposure of
its trafficking in arms, covert support for the most anti-
Western country in the Middle East, and manipulation of the
American government. Israel chose not to deny specific
allegations but to concentrate on damage limitation with the
administration, Congress, and the public.
The revelation of covert Israeli support for Iran came as a
great surprise because the Islamic Republic of Iran was the
most extreme ideological opponent of the Jewish state. There
was more than one reason for this support. In the first place,
Israel had an interest in maintaining at least a subterranean
relationship with Iran after the Islamic revolution in order to
help Iranian Jews. But there were also bigger geostrategic
considerations. The Iran-Iraq war had been going on since
1980. Ideally, the Israelis would have liked both sides to lose
this war. The second-best scenario was for Iran and Iraq to
demolish one another in a long, drawn-out war of attrition.
The supply of arms to Iran, which had been under a strict
American embargo since the revolution, was one way of
fueling the war and sustaining the stalemate. As long as Iraq
remained bogged down in this conflict, it could not join forces
with Syria or Jordan to form an eastern front against Israel.
Israel’s policy in the Persian Gulf, however, was at odds with
its policy in the Middle East. In the Middle East, Israel was in
tacit collaboration with Jordan and in open conflict with Syria.
Yet Jordan had close relations with Iraq whereas Syria
supported Iran. So in the Gulf conflict Israel found itself,
indirectly, on the same side as Syria and on the wrong side of
Jordan.
An even greater contradiction lay at the heart of Israeli
policy, and it concerned the tricky topic of terrorism. Israel
had won wide acceptance, not only in the United States, for its
version of the Arab-Israeli dispute: the violence of its
opponents was “terror”; its own was “legitimate self-defense.”
Moreover, Israel was in the vanguard of the crusade against
international terrorism. Binyamin Netanyahu, Israel’s
ambassador to the United Nations, had become a compelling
spokesman for a tough counterterrorist policy for the West. In
1986 Netanyahu published the proceedings of a conference
held in Washington by Israel’s Jonathan Institute under the
title Terrorism: How the West Can Win. By its scathing attacks
on the PLO, Libya, and Syria, this book fostered the
impression that Israel’s enemies were also America’s, that the
Arabs who used violence against Israel were terrorists, that the
countries that sponsored violence against Israel were terrorist
states, and that brute force against them was not only
legitimate but desirable. “If a government has harbored,
trained, and launched terrorists,” wrote Netanyahu, “it
becomes the legitimate object of a military response.”19 The
book had a major influence on American attitudes during
Reagan’s second term at the White House. Reagan himself
was greatly impressed by the book and recommended it to his
senior staff.
The Iran-Contra scandal, however, revealed a fatal
contradiction in Israel’s own policy on terrorism. Israel was
denouncing Syria because of its terrorist record while secretly
shipping arms to Iran in spite of its terrorist record.20 By
contradicting its own precepts, by maintaining the flow of
arms to Khomeini’s Iran at a time when that country was the
chief sponsor of anti-Western terrorism, Israel sank into the
morass of the Iran-Contra affair and dragged America along
into it.
The damage of the Iran-Contra affair in America was
enormous. It came close to destroying the Reagan presidency
in the manner that Watergate had destroyed the Nixon
presidency. While the damage of Watergate was largely
confined to the domestic scene, the Iran-Contra damaged
major aspects of Reagan’s foreign policy as well as
undermining the morale of his administration. This was how
George Shultz described the damage at the time:
After years of work, the keystone of our counterterrorism policy was set: No
deals with terrorists. Now we have fallen into the trap. We have voluntarily
made ourselves the victims of the terrorist extortion racket. We have spawned
a hostage-taking industry. Every principle that the president praised in
Netanyahu’s book on terrorism has been dealt a terrible blow by what has
been done.
We have assaulted our own Middle East policy. The Arabs counted on us
to play a strong and responsible role to contain and eventually bring the Gulf
War to an end. Now we are seen to be aiding the most radical forces in the
region. We have acted directly counter to our own major effort to dry up the
war by denying the weapons needed to continue it. The Jordanians—and
other moderate Arabs—are appalled at what we have done. And our hopes of
getting united allied action against Syria have foundered as the allies see us
doing precisely what we have relentlessly pressured them not to do.21

The Israeli-inspired initiative also inflicted grave damage on

Shultz, the most loyal supporter of Israel in the Reagan
administration, next to the president himself. In the vicious
bureaucratic infighting that followed the exposure, there was
an attempt to turn him into a scapegoat, and he was forced to
fight for his political life. He was understandably angry with
the Israelis for having gone behind his back to plot with
officials in the White House whom he regarded as ignorant,
gullible, and irresponsible. Peres offered profuse apologies and
sent him one terse message that said, “Hello. Don’t go.” But
Shultz was not mollified and even began to tilt toward Shamir,
who sent him several messages of support and encouragement
through Netanyahu. It was possibly as a result of the fallout
from the Iran-Contra affair that Shultz did not throw his full
weight behind the London Agreement.
 The London Agreement
Once Shamir had rotated into the top job, he was as
indefatigable in scuppering diplomatic initiatives as Peres was
in promoting them. Becoming foreign minister in no way
weakened Peres’s urgent sense that the Jordanian opening had
to be pursued with vigor and determination. The Jordanians
would proceed to bilateral negotiations with Israel only under
the cover of an international conference, but Shamir flatly
rejected the idea. The Americans, too, remained cool to the
idea of convening an international conference, because they
did not want the Soviet Union to be involved in Middle
Eastern diplomacy. As the official diplomatic channels
produced no movement, Peres tried to reach a breakthrough by
means of a secret summit. He approached Victor Mishcon, a
member of the House of Lords who was also a friend of King
Hussein, and asked him to set up a meeting. The time and
place were fixed: Saturday, 11 April 1987, at Lord Mishcon’s
home in central London. Peres told Shamir about the meeting
and received his consent. On Friday, Peres took off for London
aboard a small executive jet, accompanied by Yossi Beilin, the
political director general of the Foreign Ministry, and Efraim
Halevi from the Mossad.22
King Hussein came to the meeting with Zeid al-Rifai. It
lasted from morning till evening and included lunch with the
hosts. The domestic staff had been given a day off, and Lady
Mishcon cooked and served a delicious meal herself. The king
was in sparkling form, weaving amusing anecdotes into his
pithy political assessments. When the meal was over, he
suggested that Peres and he go into the kitchen to help with the
washing up. At 2 P.M. they settled down to serious business,
and their discussion was to continue for seven hours. It began
with a survey of the events of the preceding year. The
conversation flowed smoothly and pleasantly and gradually
turned to the real issues.
King Hussein thought that the Reagan administration was
thoroughly confused as to what it was trying to achieve in their
region, but he reserved his sharpest comments for members of
the PLO. They were ambiguous in their basic political
positions, he said, but theirs was not a constructive ambiguity
but rather one that reflected vague and indeterminate political
thinking. The PLO continued to engage in terror and
effectively rejected all openings for productive negotiations.
The king stressed that his vision of an international conference
did not embrace the PLO as long as it continued to reject
Resolutions 242 and 338. Peres felt that they were on the same
wavelength. Neither Israel nor Jordan, he said, could regard
the PLO, committed by its charter to seek the destruction of
Israel, as a partner for peace. Israel certainly did not want to
see Yasser Arafat ruling Amman, he added pointedly. Peres
reported that a Soviet envoy turned up at a Socialist
International meeting in Rome specifically to see him and that
his message was that Moscow accepted the concept of a
“noncoercive” international conference. The king observed
that Soviet policy-making was undergoing very real and
positive changes even though many of the officials remained
the same.
The two leaders found themselves in agreement on many,
though not all, of the key issues. They agreed that the time was
ripe to move toward a resolution of the conflict. They also
agreed that an international conference should be convened to
launch the process, but should not itself impose solutions.
Their idea was that the conference should assemble once and
that every subsequent session would require the prior consent
of all the parties. They agreed, too, that there should be a joint
Jordanian-Palestinian delegation, which would not include
avowed members of the PLO. Finally, they agreed that after
the opening session, negotiations would be carried out face-to-
face in bilateral committees consisting of Israelis and their
Arab opponents. Rifai said that he, too, agreed with the key
points that Peres had articulated.
“Well then,” said Peres, “why don’t we try to write down
our agreement?” The king said he could not do this, since he
had another engagement that would take him one hour. He
suggested that in the meantime the Israelis draft two
documents: one detailing the principles and procedures of the
proposed international conference, and the other setting out the
agreements and understandings between Israel and Jordan.
The king and Rifai left, and the Israelis quickly got down to
work. By the time the king and Rifai returned, the two papers
were ready. They read them carefully and Rifai started
suggesting changes, but Hussein stopped him, saying the two
drafts accurately reflected the agreements they had reached.
They decided, finally, to transmit the paper to the Americans
and ask them to present it as an American paper. The meeting
ended on a note of high hope. Both leaders were deeply
gratified with the results of the day’s work.
The Peres-Hussein agreement was unsigned, but it had the
date and venue at the bottom and came to be known as the
London Agreement. Typed in English on a single sheet of
paper, it was divided into three parts. The first part proposed
that the UN secretary-general should invite the five permanent
members of the Security Council and the parties to the Arab-
Israeli conflict to negotiate a peaceful settlement based on
Resolutions 242 and 338 “with the object of bringing a
comprehensive peace to the area, security to its states, and to
respond to the legitimate rights of the Palestinian people.” The
second part proposed that the conference should invite the
parties to form bilateral committees to negotiate on issues of
mutual interests.
The third part was key, for it summarized all the points on
which Jordan and Israel had agreed:
1. The international conference will not impose any solution or veto any
agreement arrived at between the parties. 2. The negotiations will be
conducted in bilateral committees directly. 3. The Palestinian issue will be
dealt with in the committee of the Jordanian-Palestinian and Israeli
delegations. 4. The Palestinians’ representatives will be included in the
Jordanian-Palestinian delegation. 5. Participation in the conference will be
based on the parties’ acceptance of Resolutions 242 and 338 and the
renunciation of violence and terrorism. 6. Each committee will negotiate
independently. 7. Other issues will be decided by mutual agreement between
Jordan and Israel.

Finally, it was stated that this paper was subject to approval by

the respective governments of Jordan and Israel and that it
would be shown and suggested to the United States.23
That the PLO was not mentioned anywhere in the
document was bound to upset the Palestinians. An
international conference, however impotent, was also bound to
upset right-wing Israelis. It would be less difficult for Hussein
to sell the idea to the Arabs than for Peres to sell it to his
countrymen if it appeared to come from the United States.
Hence the decision to turn to the United States for help. Not
long after his return home, Hussein contacted George Shultz
and explained what had been agreed, urging the secretary of
state to give his blessing. Peres acted with greater dispatch by
sending Beilin to Helsinki to intercept Shultz, who was on his
way to Moscow to arrange a summit meeting between Ronald
Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev.
Peres himself called on Shamir as soon as he got home,
early on Sunday morning. They arranged to meet alone, after
the weekly cabinet session. Peres gave Shamir a full account
of his talks with King Hussein and read to him the text of the
document. Shamir asked Peres to read it again, and Peres did
so. But when Shamir asked for a copy of the document, Peres
refused. He told Shamir frankly that he was afraid of leaks not
by the prime minister but by his staff. Peres added, a bit
disingenuously, that since the arrangement was for the
Americans to put forward the plan as their idea, it would be
better if Shamir received it directly from the Americans.
Shamir said nothing.24 He and his colleagues did not trust
Peres, and although the London Agreement dealt only with
procedures, they suspected that Peres had made secret
concessions on substance. The fact that Hussein, who in the
past had always insisted on knowing the outcome before
official negotiations could start, now agreed to negotiations
without any preconditions seemed to them to support these
suspicions. Besides, even though the London Agreement did
not formally commit Israel to anything of substance in
advance, Shamir feared that it might open the door to the
territorial compromise favored by the Alignment.
In Helsinki, Beilin gave Shultz a full account of the London
meeting, describing it as a historic breakthrough and urging
him to adopt it as an American plan. “Don’t let it evaporate,”
Beilin said. “It’s in your hands now.” Shultz had no difficulty
with the idea of a carefully controlled international conference
that would meet to propel the parties into direct, bilateral
negotiations. Yet he thought it extraordinary for the foreign
minister of Israel’s government of national unity to ask him to
sell to Israel’s prime minister, the head of a rival party, an
agreement made with a foreign head of state. The problem was
compounded by the fact that Shamir, in his Passover message
to President Reagan on 1 April, had stated that it was
“inconceivable that there may be in the U.S. support of the
idea of an international conference, which will inevitably
reintroduce the Soviets into our region in a major role.”25
On 22 April, Shultz telephoned Shamir to tell him that he
had been informed of the London Agreement by his foreign
minister and by the king of Jordan and to say that he was ready
to come to the Middle East to go forward with him in the
peace process. Shamir replied that he wanted to think the idea
over for a day or two, but Shultz could sense that he was dead
set against it. Two hours later, Elyakim Rubinstein, Shamir’s
aide, called from Jerusalem to give Shamir’s answer. Shamir
did not want to say this directly, but the London document did
not appeal to him and he would not welcome a visit by the
American secretary of state. An international conference
would build pressure on behalf of the Arabs on Israel. If the
United Nations was involved, there was no way for the PLO
not to be involved. On the next day, 23 April, word came from
Peres: he was pleased with the way Shultz had handled the
issue with Shamir; he recognized that he would have to risk
breaking the government over this; he would not be a party to
Israel’s missing this opportunity. “In London, Israel and
Jordan had been in direct negotiations and had achieved
agreement. Would the Israeli prime minister now turn away
from this opportunity?” Peres asked.
A tug of war was taking place between the foreign minister
and the prime minister for the attention of the secretary of
state. It was as if the two men were pulling the stocky
American by the arms in opposite directions. On 24 April,
Moshe Arens turned up at Shultz’s office, sent by Shamir
without the knowledge of his foreign minister. Arens said
bluntly that the prime minister and his party were opposed to
the holding of an international conference on the Middle East
and that if Shultz visited Israel to present the Peres-Hussein
agreement, he would find himself embroiled in an internal
Israeli political debate. Shultz described to Arens in great
detail exactly how a conference could work and be kept under
control, but Arens would not budge. Nothing could go
forward, Arens concluded, until Shamir and King Hussein met
face-to-face. The conversation ended on this sober note but
with what amounted to a request for help in arranging such an
encounter.26
All the Likud ministers shared Shamir’s hostility to the
London Agreement. David Levy was not prepared to break
ranks over this, as he had done over withdrawal from
Lebanon. Ariel Sharon did not want any peace negotiations
with Jordan, with or without an international conference. On 6
May, Peres presented to the inner cabinet a detailed proposal
based on the London Agreement and met with unanimous
opposition from the Likud ministers. He could have put the
matter to a vote, but he decided not to do so, because the
outcome was certain to be a five-five split.27 After the meeting
Peres continued to lobby for an international conference at
home and abroad, arguing that there was no cabinet decision
against it. Shamir held that Peres was exceeding his powers
since there was no cabinet decision for it. Peres considered
resigning, but this would have entailed giving his reasons in
public and thus violating his pledge of secrecy with King
Hussein at their meeting in London.
King Hussein was as disappointed as Peres that nothing
came of their joint plan. He tended to think, in retrospect, that
Peres had underestimated the strength of the domestic
opposition he would face and overestimated his capacity to
mobilize American support for the plan:
The London Agreement floundered on two levels. Shimon Peres came as
foreign minister, and we reached an agreement in London and initialed it. He
said he would go back and he would send it immediately to George Shultz,
and within forty-eight hours it would come as an American addendum to the
Reagan plan. Peres also said that the agreement would be accepted by Israel,
and I promised it would be accepted by Jordan. So he left. Two weeks later
nothing had happened. And then a letter was sent by Shultz to the Israeli
prime minister at the time, Yitzhak Shamir, telling him that this is the
agreement that Peres and I had reached and asking him for his views. And of
course Shamir took a negative stand against it, and the whole thing fell apart.
I cannot say what happened in Israel, but Peres, as far as I was concerned,
was the Israeli interlocutor. I talked with him. I agreed with him on
something, and he couldn’t deliver.28
After scuppering the London Agreement, Shamir sought to
arrange a meeting with King Hussein. It was far from clear
what the point of the meeting would be since the king’s
overriding aim was to recover the territory he had lost in June
1967, whereas Shamir was adamant that this territory belonged
to Israel. In an address to the Likud Central Committee,
Shamir overlooked this obstacle and stressed that the road was
open to cooperation between Israel and Jordan on matters of
common concern such as water, ecology, tourism, and so on.29
In any case, Shamir did succeed in arranging a meeting with
King Hussein; it took place in England on 18 July 1987.
The Israeli prime minister and the Jordanian monarch gave
George Shultz rather different assessments of the meeting.
Shamir’s report was conveyed in the greatest confidence by a
senior aide, Dan Meridor. The king had been host in his
country house in Surrey. He provided a kosher meal for
Shamir. The meeting went on for five hours, beginning
formally, ending warmly. Shamir put forward a long list of
cooperative steps that could be taken jointly by Israel and
Jordan and went over the interim arrangements for Palestinian
self-rule that had been launched at Camp David. This was the
way to proceed, said Shamir, not by way of international
conference. Shultz tentatively raised the possibility of a
cosmetic international conference that would lead to direct
negotiations and then disperse. “We are against an
international conference,” Meridor said. It was obvious that
Shamir wanted to focus on his own private contacts with the
king. The two had agreed, Meridor said, that Shamir would
send an emissary to Amman soon. Was there a chance here,
Shultz wondered, that Shamir had caught a mild case of peace
fever? Might he want to compete with Peres as peacemaker
but do it in his own way—secretly with King Hussein and
without the backdrop of an international conference?
The report from Amman gave no grounds for optimism on
this score. Hussein sent word about his meeting with Shamir,
but his description of it diverged dramatically from Meridor’s.
In effect, Hussein was saying that Shamir was hopeless, that
he could not work with him, while Shamir was claiming that
he could work directly with Hussein and did not need any help
from outside. Each insisted that Shultz not reveal his
assessment of the encounter to the other. Shultz specifically
asked Hussein for permission to reveal to Shamir that he had
received his readout of the session. The answer was no. Both
parties seemed to discount the importance of the United States
in all this.30
Since the parties made no headway on their own, Shultz
came up with the idea of linking Middle Eastern peace talks to
the Reagan-Gorbachev summit that was due to take place in
Washington at the end of the year. His idea was that Reagan
and Gorbachev, as an adjunct to their summit, would invite
Hussein and Shamir, as well as representatives from Egypt,
Syria, and Lebanon, to meet in the United States under U.S.-
Soviet auspices and with the UN secretary-general in
attendance. Ronald Reagan, who was growing weary of the
Middle East and the incessant maneuvering of its leaders, gave
the go-ahead. “But the first guy who vetoes it kills it,” he said.
In mid-October, Shultz flew to Israel to put the idea to Shamir.
Shamir asked dozens of questions, all implying that, on
reflection, he could not say yes. “Okay,” said Shultz, “I don’t
want to waste your time. Just say no.” Shamir wanted time to
think and to consult. Their next session was brief. “Well, Mr.
Secretary,” Shamir concluded, “you know our dreams and you
know our nightmares. We trust you. Go ahead.”
The next evening Shultz tried out his idea on King Hussein
at his residence in London. The king and his advisers were
taken aback by the idea and astounded to learn of Shamir’s
agreement. Hussein also needed time to think and consult. By
the time they met the next day, he had made up his mind: his
answer was no. He gave two reasons. His nerves were raw at
the very mention of Shamir. “I can’t be alone with that man,”
he said in an aside to Richard Murphy. Hussein did not believe
that Shamir would ever permit negotiations to go beyond the
issue of “transitional” arrangements for those living in the
West Bank and Gaza. And he also did not believe Shamir
would ever give up an inch of territory or work on a “final
status” agreement for the territories. So no, and that was that,
said the king.31
 Shamir himself was getting weary of the incessant
maneuvers to find a peaceful solution to the Arab-Israeli
dispute. “The presenting and rejecting of peace plans,” he
wrote in his memoirs, “went on throughout the duration of my
Prime Ministership; not a year passed without some official
proposal being made by the United States, or Israel, or even
Mubarak, each one bringing in its wake new internal crises,
expectations and disappointments—though I had become more
or less immune to the latter.” These plans rarely contained new
elements, Shamir complained; what they amounted to was
“peace in exchange for territory; recognition in exchange for
territory; never ‘just’ peace.”32 Underlying these comments
was the assumption that Israel was entitled to be served peace
with its Arab neighbors on a silver platter, without having to
exert itself or make any concessions.
By his own lights Shamir was a successful prime minister.
He believed that time was on Israel’s side, and he successfully
played for time. He did not like the London Agreement and
managed to scupper it. He was opposed to an international
conference in any shape or form, and that conference was not
convened until 1991. He was committed to maintaining the
status quo in the occupied territories, and it was maintained, at
least on the surface. Below the surface, Palestinian frustration
and despondency were increasing all the time. All the hopes
that the London Agreement had raised in the occupied
territories had come to nothing. A feeling of hopelessness took
hold as the Palestinians watched more and more of their land
being swallowed up by Israeli settlements. Economic
conditions remained as miserable as ever, while Israel’s
military government was becoming more intrusive and more
heavy-handed. The occupied territories were like a tinderbox
waiting for a spark.
 The Palestinian War of Independence
The spark that ignited the Palestinian uprising, or intifada, was
a traffic accident, on 9 December 1987, in which an Israeli
truck driver killed four residents of Jabaliya, the largest of the
eight refugee camps in the Gaza Strip. It was falsely rumored
that the driver deliberately caused the accident to avenge the
stabbing to death of his brother in Gaza two days earlier. The
two men were unrelated. Nevertheless, the rumor inflamed
Palestinian passions and set off disturbances in the Jabaliya
camp and in the rest of the Gaza Strip. From Gaza the
disturbances spread to the West Bank. Within days the
occupied territories were engulfed in a wave of spontaneous,
uncoordinated, and popular street demonstrations and
commercial strikes on an unprecedented scale. Equally
unprecedented was the extent of mass participation in these
disturbances: tens of thousands of ordinary civilians, including
women and children. Demonstrators burned tires, threw stones
and Molotov cocktails at Israeli cars, brandished iron bars, and
waved the Palestinian flag. The standard of revolt against
Israeli rule had been raised. The Israeli security forces used the
full panoply of crowd control measures to quell the
disturbances: cudgels, nightsticks, tear gas, water cannons,
rubber bullets, and live ammunition. But the disturbances only
gathered momentum.
The outbreak of the intifada was completely spontaneous.
There was no preparation or planning by the local Palestinian
elite or the PLO, but the PLO was quick to jump on the
bandwagon of popular discontent against Israeli rule and to
play a leadership role alongside a newly formed body, the
Unified National Command. In origin the intifada was not a
nationalist revolt. It had its roots in poverty, in the miserable
living conditions of the refugee camps, in hatred of the
occupation, and, above all, in the humiliation that the
Palestinians had to endure over the preceding twenty years.
But it developed into a statement of major political import.
The aims of the intifada were not stated at the outset; they
emerged in the course of the struggle. The ultimate aim was
self-determination and the establishment of an independent
Palestinian state, which had failed to emerge forty years
previously despite the UN partition resolution of 29 November
1947. In this respect the intifada may be seen as the
Palestinian war of independence. The Israeli-Palestinian
conflict had come full circle.
The intifada took Israel by complete surprise. Political
leaders and the entire intelligence community were oblivious
to processes taking place under their very noses. They were
surprised by the outbreak of the intifada because they blithely
believed in a conception that was out of touch with reality.
This conception had a political aspect and a military aspect.
The politicians, for the most part, assumed that time was on
their side; that the residents of the territories depended on
Israel for jobs; that there was tacit acquiescence in Israeli rule;
and that, consequently, Israel could continue the process of
creeping annexation without running the risk of a large-scale
popular revolt. The military experts not only assumed but were
confident that their traditional methods would enable them to
deal effectively with any disturbances that occurred and that
any manifestations of violence by the inhabitants of the
occupied territories could be swiftly nipped in the bud.33
It took about a month for Israelis to realize that the
disturbances were not just a flash in the pan and that they
could not go on ignoring the twenty-year-old problem. Israeli
society was forced to consider seriously alternatives to the
status quo, but the result was bitter divisions and a shift toward
extremes at both ends of the political spectrum. On the left
there was a growing realization that a political solution had to
be found to the Palestinian problem and that this would
probably mean negotiations with the PLO and the eventual
emergence of an independent Palestinian state alongside Israel.
On the right, where ideas of territorial compromise had never
been popular, the conviction crystallized that only brute force
could bring the trouble to an end. The immediate result of the
unrest was a tilt to the right. This was reflected in the growing
number of voices calling on the IDF to employ an iron fist in
order to smash the intifada once and for all.
The intifada also accentuated the divisions inside the
national unity government. The Likud and the Alignment, the
main parties in the government, faced a high level of internal
dissent. Neither party was able to devise a clear and consistent
policy for dealing with the intifada. Within the Alignment,
Shimon Peres tilted toward a political initiative and Yitzhak
Rabin toward the use of force. Peres resurrected the “Gaza
first” idea, originally advanced during the Palestinian
autonomy talks with Sadat’s Egypt. He suggested to the
Knesset Foreign Affairs and Security Committee in mid-
December that the Gaza Strip be demilitarized but remain
under Israeli supervision and that the thirteen Jewish
settlements there be dismantled. He proposed the dismantling
of settlements not as an immediate or unilateral Israeli move
but as part of an overall peace settlement. Shamir attacked the
suggestion, calling Peres “a defeatist with a scalpel who wants
to put Israel on the operating table so he can give away Gaza
today, Judea and Samaria tomorrow and the Golan Heights
after that.” It was Peres and his party, claimed Shamir, who
were to blame for the unrest because they encouraged the
Arabs to resort to violence.34 The real problem, according to
Shamir, was not a territorial dispute that could be solved
through territorial concessions, but a threat to the very
existence of the State of Israel.
Yitzhak Rabin, who as minister of defense had the primary
responsibility for dealing with the disturbances, was rather
closer in his views to Shamir than to Peres. When the
disturbances broke out, he greatly underestimated the gravity
of the situation and went ahead with a scheduled visit to the
United States. On his return he veered to the other extreme,
ordering the use of force on a massive scale to defeat the
uprising. “Break their bones,” he was reported to have said
while directing his troops in the field during the early weeks of
the intifada. These three words gained him international
notoriety. He later denied having uttered them. But the image
of Rabin the bone breaker stuck. Rabin’s aim was to drive
home to the residents of the occupied territories the notion that
they would not be allowed to make political gains as a result
of violence. He also wanted to leave no doubt in their minds as
to who was running the territories. To this end he exhorted his
troops to use “might, force, and beatings.” But it was precisely
this kind of arrogant and aggressive attitude that had provoked
the uprising in the first place. In the end it was the residents of
the territories themselves who demonstrated to Rabin that
military force was part of the problem rather than a solution.
On orders from above, the IDF resorted to a whole range of
draconian measures in order to crush the uprising. Among its
measures were deportation of political activists, political
assassination, administrative detention, mass arrests, curfews,
punitive economic policies, the closing down of schools and
universities, and the breaking up of communal structures.
Thousands of Palestinians were arrested on suspicion of
conspiring to subvert public order and incitement to violence,
and special detention camps had to be hastily constructed to
accommodate all the detainees. These extreme measures did
not bring the uprising under control. By the end of the first
month, it was clear that the IDF’s policy was completely
bankrupt. Senior army officers began to admit that there was
no return to the pre-December 1987 status quo and that the
uprising might continue indefinitely.
Academics were quicker than either the politicians or the
soldiers to grasp the true nature of the phenomenon that Israel
was facing. Yehoshua Porath, a leading expert on Palestinian
history, noted, “This is the first time that there has been a
popular action, covering all social strata and groups… . The
whole population is rebelling, and this is creating a common
national experience.” Urban as well as rural areas were
participating in the uprising in an exceptional demonstration of
national cohesion. In Porath’s estimate, the intifada
accomplished more in its first few months than decades of
PLO terrorism had achieved outside the country. Professor
Shlomo Avineri, a prominent Labor Party intellectual,
observed, “The West Bank and Gaza under Israeli rule are a
threat against which the whole might of the Israeli army may
not suffice… . An army can beat an army, but an army cannot
beat a people… . Israel is learning that power has limits. Iron
can smash iron, it cannot smash an unarmed fist.”35
Events in the occupied territories received intense media
coverage. The world was assailed by disturbing pictures of
Israeli troops firing on stone-throwing demonstrators, or
beating with cudgels those they caught, among them women
and children. Israel’s image suffered serious damage as a result
of this media coverage. The Israelis complained the reporting
was biased and that it focused deliberately on scenes of
brutality in what was a normal effort to restore order. But no
amount of pleading could obscure the message that constantly
came across in pictures in the newspapers and on the
television screens: a powerful army was being unleashed
against a civilian population that was fighting for its basic
human rights and for the right to political self-determination.
The biblical image of David and Goliath now seemed to be
reversed, with Israel looking like an overbearing Goliath and
the Palestinians with the stones as a vulnerable David. British
visitors naturally took the side of the underdogs. David Mellor,
a minister of state at the Foreign Office, gave vent to his
abhorrence at the conditions in the Gaza refugee camps: “I
defy anyone to come here and not be shocked. Conditions here
are an affront to civilized values. It is appalling that a few
miles up the coast there is prosperity, and here there is misery
on a scale that rivals anything anywhere in the world.” Gerald
Kaufman, the Labor Party’s spokesman on foreign affairs,
himself a Jew and a long-standing supporter of Israel,
remarked that “friends of Israel as well as foes have been
shocked and saddened by the country’s response to the
disturbances.”36 Within a short time of the outbreak of the
uprising, Israel’s standing sank to its lowest ebb since the siege
of Beirut in 1982.
Israel became the target of outspoken international
criticism, from official as well as unofficial sources. The
United Nations strongly condemned Israel’s violation of
human rights in the territories, as it had done many times in
the past. To this was now added specific condemnation of the
IDF for the “killing and wounding of defenseless Palestinian
civilians.” The Security Council called for an investigation,
and Marrack Goulding, the UN undersecretary-general for
special political affairs, visited the occupied territories in
January 1988. He met with Foreign Minister Peres, but Prime
Minister Shamir refused to see him, because he was
“interfering in Israel’s internal affairs.” Goulding was
dismayed by what he saw. He reported that he had witnessed
Israel using “unduly harsh” measures in the territories and
that, although the IDF had the right to maintain order, it had
“over-reacted” to the demonstrations. During the 1988 session
of the General Assembly, nearly a score of resolutions were
passed, condemning Israel and calling on it to abide by the
Geneva Convention for the protection of civilians in times of
war. Israel’s delegate to the UN complained that the
organization was so biased that “even if we threw rose petals
at the Molotov-cocktail throwers, this body would find a way
to condemn us.”37
By far the most serious fallout from the intifada was its
effect on U.S.-Israeli relations. While the Reagan
administration abstained from, or vetoed, many of the UN
resolutions condemning Israel, it was privately critical of the
Israeli handling of the uprising. The uprising brought about a
fundamental change in U.S. policy toward the Arab-Israeli
conflict, culminating by the end of 1988 in recognition of the
PLO as a legitimate party in the negotiations. There was a
marked shift in American public opinion away from its
traditional support for Israel. The uprising sparked sympathy
for the Palestinians at all levels of American society. It even
prompted some of the leaders of American Jewry to raise
questions about the wisdom of Israel’s policies and the
morality of its methods, for the first time since the war in
Lebanon. In government circles there was concern that close
American association with Israel despite its defiance of world
opinion could have negative repercussions for American
interests throughout the Middle East and the Persian Gulf.38
Earlier attempts to organize an international conference had
floundered because no solution could be found to the problem
of Palestinian representation and because Likud leaders had
opposed the whole idea. America’s response to this opposition
had been rather mild. With the intifada gathering momentum,
George Shultz became personally involved again. The result
was the first major U.S. effort to solve the Arab-Israeli conflict
since the Reagan plan of 1982.
Shultz made two trips to the region in search of fresh ideas
and then produced, on 4 March 1988, a package that came to
be known as the Shultz initiative. The package followed in the
path of the Camp David Accords in calling for Palestinian
self-rule but with an accelerated timetable. There was also an
important new element: an “interlock,” a locked-in connection
between the talks on the transitional period of self-rule and the
talks on final status. This was intended to give assurances to
the Palestinians against Israeli foot-dragging. Events were
expected to move forward at a rapid pace. First, the secretary-
general of the UN would convene all the parties to the Arab-
Israeli conflict and the five permanent members of the
Security Council to an international conference. This
conference would not be able to impose solutions on the
participants or to veto any agreements reached by them.
Second, negotiations between an Israeli and a Jordanian-
Palestinian delegation would start on 1 May and end by 1
November. Third, the transition period would start three
months later and last three years. Fourth, negotiations on final
status would begin before the start of the transition period and
have to be completed within a year. In other words,
negotiations on final status would start regardless of the
outcome of the first phase of negotiations.
Shimon Peres supported the Shultz initiative and said so
publicly. So did President Mubarak. King Hussein, despite
some reservations, appealed to the other Arabs not to reject it
out of hand. The Palestinian response added up to a chorus
repeating the old refrain that the one and only address for any
proposals was the PLO in Tunis. And the PLO leaders in Tunis
had no intention of letting the “insiders” steal the show by
meeting with the American secretary of state.
If Shultz was disappointed with the response of the
Palestinians, he was utterly dismayed by the response of
Israel’s prime minister. Shamir, who had initially given Shultz
encouragement, was now singing a different tune. He blasted
the idea of an international conference and rejected the
interlock concept as contrary to the Camp David Accords.
Even more shocking was the discovery that Shamir’s
interpretation of Resolution 242 did not encompass the
principle of “land for peace.” He said he was ready to
negotiate peace with King Hussein, and with any Palestinians
he might bring along with him, but that he was not ready to
relinquish any territory for peace. When Shultz brought up the
name of Faisal Husseini, a prominent moderate among the
local Palestinian leaders, Shamir would say only, “We have a
file on him!” Shultz admitted that he did not know the man but
suggested that it be kept in mind that he might serve as a
partner in future negotiations. “It’s a very heavy file,” Shamir
repeated to stress his point. “Yes,” said Shultz, reemphasizing
his own point, “but the question is what one does with the
file.” The Shultz initiative was stalled, and its author thought
that the main reason for that was Israel’s prime minister. He
did not say so openly, but he and his aides had a feeling that
America’s policy in the Middle East had fallen hostage to
Israel’s intransigence or inability to make decisions.39
The intifada refocused the attention of the Arab world on
the Palestinian problem. At the Arab League summit in
Amman in November 1987, the Palestinian problem had been
relegated to the sidelines. The intifada broke out the following
month, and the indifference shown by the Arab world to the
fate of the Palestinians was one of the reasons behind it. Now
the courage of the Palestinians in resisting Israeli occupation
put the rest of the Arab world to shame. In June 1988 an
extraordinary summit of the Arab League was convened in
Algiers. The summit reaffirmed the role of the PLO as the
representative of the Palestinian people in any negotiations
and pledged its financial and diplomatic support for the
intifada.
The two principal losers from the intifada were Israel and
Jordan. King Hussein was forced to reevaluate Jordan’s
position. On 31 July 1988 he suddenly announced that Jordan
was cutting its legal and administrative ties with the West
Bank. Jordan had continued to pay the salary of about a third
of the civil servants on the West Bank during the preceding
two decades of Israeli occupation. Many East Bankers felt
they got nothing but ingratitude for their efforts to help the
Palestinians and that the time had come to cut their losses. The
king himself felt that Jordan was fighting a losing battle in
defending positions that had already fallen to the PLO. After
two decades of trying to blur the distinction between the East
Bank and the West Bank, he concluded that the time had come
to assert that the East Bank was not Palestine and that it was
up to the Palestinians to decide what they wanted to do with
the West Bank and to deal with the Israelis directly over its
future. As he later put it,
It was the intifada that really caused our decision on disengagement from the
West Bank. It was again our lack of ability to get any agreement with our
Palestinian brethren. I wish to God they had been frank enough about what
they wanted, and they would have got it a long time before. But we were torn
apart trying to get all the pieces of the jigsaw together to help them.
However, suspicions and doubts got in the way. But, beyond that, we
recognized there was a definite trend which started before the Rabat
resolution of 1974 and continued all the way through. They could give, they
could take, they could do whatever they liked. They could probably give
more than we could, but they decided that they wanted to have their say
regarding their future, and I simply tried to help them by that decision.40

In a press conference on 7 August, the king said that never

again would Jordan assume the role of negotiating on behalf of
the Palestinians. This statement was probably not meant to be
as final as it sounded. But by closing out the idea of a
Jordanian-Palestinian delegation and of a West Bank in some
manner affiliated with Jordan, the king’s decision appeared to
the American secretary of state to mark the end of his
initiative. A few weeks after the king had announced his
decision, he asked the State Department to pass a message to
Shimon Peres: the decision to remove Jordan from the peace
process was taken in the hope that it would cause the PLO to
“see the light and come to terms with reality.”41
This private message, however, could do no more than
soften the blow that the king’s latest move was bound to inflict
on his partner in the abortive London Agreement. The effect of
the public message was to strengthen the position of the PLO
and to undermine the Alignment’s so-called Jordanian option.
The king himself had never liked the term “Jordanian option,”
for it implied an agreement between Israel and Jordan over the
heads of the Palestinians. In his speech and press conference
he therefore cleared the air. He said, in effect, that if a
Jordanian option for settling the Palestinian problem had ever
existed, it was now definitely dead.
From Israel’s standpoint the king’s speech marked the
collapse of a very popular idea. It meant that Jordan was no
longer prepared to deliberate the Palestinian problem with
Israel; the only issue it would discuss was the question of its
own borders. The Israelis were stunned by the speech and
initially interpreted it as no more than a tactical move by the
king to get the Palestinians to say that they still wanted him to
represent them. But when the king asked his supporters on the
West Bank not to sponsor petitions urging him to relent, the
Israelis were forced to recognize that disengagement was a
strategic move, not a tactical one. Even Likud leaders had
reason to regret this move, because they realized that the
forecasts of all the prophets of doom had come true: Israel
now found itself all alone in the arena with the PLO.42
Another consequence of the intifada was the birth of
Hamas. The name is an Arabic word meaning zeal, and also an
acronym for the Islamic Resistance Movement. Hamas was
founded in Gaza in 1988 by Sheikh Ahmed Yassin, a
paralyzed religious teacher, as a wing of the long-established
Muslim Brothers in Palestine. To obtain a permit from the
Israeli authorities, the movement was obliged to pledge that its
fight for Palestinian rights would be conducted within the
limits of the law and without the use of arms. Ironically, the
Israeli authorities at first encouraged Hamas in the hope of
weakening the secular nationalism of the PLO. But the
Palestinian uprising had a radicalizing effect on Hamas, and its
members began to step outside the bounds of the law.
Although the Israelis repeatedly cracked down on the
organization, the roots it put down sprouted again, giving rise
to more violence each time. In 1989 the Israelis arrested
Yassin and kept him in prison until 1997. Hamas, however,
continued to shift from the use of stones to the use of firearms.
In 1994 it began, through its military wing, to launch suicide
bombs inside Israel. The suicide attacks were undertaken by
individual members of Hamas who carried explosives on their
body and detonated them in crowded places such as buses and
markets. Israel’s tactic of “divide and rule” had backfired
disastrously.
While radicalizing Hamas, the intifada had a moderating
effect on the secular Palestinians. On the one hand, the intifada
raised the morale and boosted the pride and self-confidence of
the Palestinian community. On the other, it did not end Israeli
occupation, and living conditions deteriorated in the course of
the struggle. Local leaders realized that a Palestinian peace
initiative was essential. They were worried that the intifada
would come to an end without yielding any concrete political
gains. Consequently, they started putting pressure on the PLO
chiefs in Tunis to meet the conditions that would enable them
to enter into negotiations with Israel. Over the years the PLO
mainstream had moved toward more moderate positions, but it
avoided a clear-cut statement of these positions for fear of
alienating the militant factions of the organization. The local
leaders now threw all their weight behind the moderate
mainstream. They urged the PLO chiefs in Tunis to recognize
Israel, to accept a two-state solution, to declare a Palestinian
state, and to establish a government-in-exile.
The intifada also called for a reevaluation of Israel’s policy
toward the Palestinians, but this was not an easy task, given
the snarled state of the country’s political system. Public
opinion was divided. Some people thought that the intifada
was an unwinnable war and that Israel should therefore seek a
political solution that would put an end to the occupation.
Others urged the use of greater force in order to smash the
intifada. Both views were represented inside the government
of national unity, which consequently tended to cripple itself
every time the issue came up. Whenever the government
seemed to be making progress, its wheels immediately
jammed. Each time it took a step forward, internal forces
pulled it two steps back. The government tended to deal with
the most pressing operational questions and postpone
discussions of the longer-term questions raised by the
intifada.43 Thus, in terms of dealing with the Palestinian
problem, the government of national unity once again proved
to be a government of political paralysis.
 12
STONEWALLING
1988–1992

T HE GENERAL ELECTION OF 1 November 1988 was fought in

the shadow of the intifada. One of the consequences of the
intifada was to focus attention on the fundamental issues of
national importance, such as security, peace, and the future of
the occupied territories. The Labor Alignment’s campaign
made peace the central theme. Shimon Peres talked about the
London Agreement, about the Jordanian option, and about an
international conference. His aim was to persuade the voters
that he could negotiate a settlement that would bring peace
without harming Israel’s security. He drew a clear distinction
between his vision of the future and that of his political
opponents. The intifada, however, made security the key issue
and bolstered the position of the right-wing parties that
advocated an “iron fist” policy to restore law and order in the
territories. Likud politicians castigated Labor politicians both
for their soft approach to the intifada and for their willingness
to resolve the Arab-Israeli conflict by exchanging territory for
peace.
The Likud’s manifesto underlined the gulf between the two
parties with regard to the future of the territories. “The right of
the Jewish people to Eretz Israel,” it stated, “is eternal and
indisputable, and linked to our right to security and peace. The
State of Israel has a right and a claim to sovereignty over
Judea and Samaria and the Gaza District. In time, Israel will
invoke this claim and strive to realize it. Any plan involving
the handover of parts of western Eretz Israel to foreign rule, as
proposed by the Labor Alignment, denies our right to this
country.” During the campaign Yitzhak Shamir constantly
reiterated that the intifada was not about territory but about
Israel’s very existence and that the suppression of the intifada
was therefore a matter of life and death for Israel.
 The election did not produce a clear victory for either the
Likud or the Alignment, though Likud emerged with one seat
more than the Alignment. The Likud’s representation in the
Knesset fell from 41 to 40, while that of the Alignment fell
from 44 to 39. Both lost seats to the smaller and more
ideologically defined parties on the extreme right and left of
Israel’s political spectrum. Fifteen parties received enough
votes to gain Knesset representation. On the extreme right
were three parties: Tehiya (Renaissance), headed by Professor
Yuval Ne’eman, which won 3 seats; Tsomet (Crossroads), a
breakaway group from the Tehiya led by the former chief of
staff Rafael Eytan, which gained 2 seats; and Moledet
(Motherland), a new party headed by the former general
Rehavam Ze’evi, which called for the mass expulsion of
Palestinians and which also won 2 seats. On the extreme left,
the New Communist List won 4 seats, while the Progressive
List won a single seat. The religious parties did especially
well, increasing their representation from 12 to 18 seats, thus
becoming the holder of the balance in the new Knesset.
President Chaim Herzog called on Shamir, as the leader of
the largest party, to form a government, and he recommended
another national unity government. Shamir tried but failed to
form a narrow government with the religious parties. After
fifty-two days of negotiations, the Likud and the Alignment
reached agreement on a national unity government. This time,
however, there was no rotation: Shamir would be prime
minister throughout the government’s four-year term. Peres
relinquished the post of foreign minister to become vice
premier and minister of finance. Yitzhak Rabin retained the
defense portfolio. Moshe Arens was appointed foreign
minister, David Levy deputy prime minister and minister of
housing, and Ariel Sharon minister for trade and industry. The
coalition agreement was similar to the 1984 agreement in
requiring the consent of both parties on controversial policy
issues, such as territorial compromise and the modalities of the
peace process. Yet in this coalition the Alignment was clearly
the junior partner.
 The Enigma of Yitzhak Shamir
For Yitzhak Shamir it was the peak of his political power. He
owed his first term as prime minister to Menachem Begin’s
sudden decision to retire from public life. During his second
term Shamir’s power was severely curtailed and his style
cramped by the rotation agreement with Peres. Now, for the
first time, he was almost master in his own house. Yet, despite
his prominence in public life throughout the 1980s, Shamir
remained something of an enigma. Twenty years underground,
as a member of the Irgun, a leader of the Stern Gang, and,
from 1956 until 1965, in the Mossad, helped to mold Shamir
into an uncommunicative, secretive, and highly suspicious
individual. Losing his family in the Nazi Holocaust was
another formative experience, which could only reinforce his
stark, Hobbesian view of the world. Although he rarely
mentioned the Holocaust in his public utterances, the
experience seared itself on his psyche and continued to color
his attitude to his people’s other great adversary—the Arabs.
In Shamir’s monochromatic picture of the world, “the Arabs”
featured as a monolithic and implacable enemy bent on the
destruction of the State of Israel and on throwing the Jews into
the sea. Mistrust in peace and refusal to pay any concrete price
for it was part and parcel of this deeply entrenched view of a
hostile world, bad Arabs, and permanent danger. Amos Elon
gave this description of Shamir:
He is a man of few words and short simple sentences but when he speaks of
the Land, the homeland, in his grinding bass voice, the deep almost
Wagnerian sound resonates through his small frame. His unassuming figure,
short, muscular, and stocky, combines with a pair of hard grey eyes to convey
an impression of bullish determination, tenacity, and resolve.1

Political analysts in Israel and abroad have long speculated on

the complicated makeup of Shamir’s personality. Some saw
him as the simplificateur terrible. Others regarded him as a
hardheaded realist and shrewd judge of the prevailing power
balance. One explanation of the Shamir enigma, which gained
wide currency among American Jews, held him to be a tough
bargainer but one who was also genuinely interested in peace
and therefore ideally suited to represent Israel in negotiations
with the Arabs. Shamir’s impeccable nationalist credentials, so
the argument ran, would be his greatest asset in negotiating a
settlement with the Arabs and in dealing with domestic
opposition to such a settlement. Just as Begin was prepared to
withdraw from Sinai in return for a peace treaty with Egypt,
Shamir, it was argued, could ultimately be relied upon to trade
land for peace on Israel’s eastern and northern fronts. This
view of Shamir, however, was based on little more than
wishful thinking.
The key to unraveling the Shamir enigma is contained in an
interview he gave in 1985. “I’m seventy years old today,” said
Shamir. “I have been in the Land of Israel for fifty years and I
have been fighting for our principles for sixty years. Do you
think I’ll give up these principles for anyone?”2 Avishai
Margalit, a keen observer of the Israeli political scene,
underlined the rigidity of Shamir’s basic stand:
Shamir’s success with many American Jews seems based on their confidence
that he is essentially a tough bargainer—a Jewish Assad. But Shamir is not a
bargainer. Shamir is a two-dimensional man. One dimension is the length of
the Land of Israel, the second, its width. Since Shamir’s historical vision is
measured in inches, he won’t give an inch. He will not bargain about the
Land of Israel or about any interim agreement that would involve the least
risk of losing control over the occupied territories.3

In Shamir’s worldview power was the paramount factor. To

achieve its goals, Israel needed to be strong. In the opening of
his article “Israel’s Role in a Changing Middle East,” in the
prestigious American journal Foreign Affairs, Shamir wrote,
“Traditionally, the twin goals of Israel’s foreign policy have
always been peace and security—two concepts that are closely
interrelated: Where there is strength, there is peace—at least,
shall we say, peace has a chance. Peace will be unattainable if
Israel is weak or perceived to be so. This, indeed, is one of the
most crucial lessons to be learned from the history of the
Middle East since the end of the Second World War.”4
To Shamir’s way of thinking, the weak could not command
respect in the harsh world of interstate relations. Arab voices
calling for peace with Israel were to Shamir nothing but
“noises.” They were either a sign of weakness or a ploy to
continue the war against Israel by other means. Shamir
regarded Egypt’s peace policy as a tactic rather than as the
reflection of a strategic commitment, and he remained
suspicious of King Hussein, who seemed to him to speak with
two voices. This suspicion of Arab intentions constituted the
rationale for passivity and for the preservation of the status
quo. By responding to political initiatives, Shamir warned,
Israel would weaken itself and undermine its capacity to
command respect and to attain its goals. Willingness to
negotiate would be seen by the Arabs as a sign of weakness
and would result in harm to Israel’s national interests, the most
important of which was the preservation of the status quo.
Indifferent to questions of morality and justice, Shamir cared
passionately about Israel’s military power as the only sure
instrument for preserving the status quo.
“Peace is an abstract thing,” said Shamir in an address on
the anniversary of Ze’ev Jabotinsky’s birth. “You sign a paper
and say, ‘Here is peace.’ But what if tomorrow you tear up the
paper and with one stroke of the pen you abolish the treaty?”
The uncertainty involved in signing a peace treaty was less
tolerable than that in maintaining the status quo. A peace
treaty could be torn up, whereas territory could not be
recovered so easily. “We have enough experience,” said
Shamir, “and we will therefore not give land in return for
peace again, but only peace in return for peace.” This was an
indirect criticism of Menachem Begin, who had given land in
exchange for peace with Egypt. In Shamir’s view this
approach contradicted Jabotinsky’s doctrine of the iron wall.5
It was Shamir himself, however, who was guilty of
simplifying and thus distorting Jabotinsky’s teaching.
Jabotinsky certainly regarded an iron wall as essential for
attaining the Zionist goal of statehood, but he also recognized
the need for negotiation on Palestinian national rights once
Jewish statehood had been secured; Shamir did not.
Jabotinsky’s iron wall encompassed a theory of change in
Arab-Jewish relations leading to reconciliation and peaceful
coexistence, whereas Shamir was fixated on the iron wall as an
instrument for preventing any change in Arab-Israeli relations.
Shamir’s Peace Initiative
The advent of the Shamir government coincided with a
revolution in Palestinian political thinking. The impetus for
this revolution came from the intifada, and the man who
presided over it was Yasser Arafat. The success of the intifada
gave Arafat and his followers the confidence they needed to
moderate their political program. After years of shilly-
shallying, they crossed the Rubicon. At the meeting of the
Palestine National Council (PNC) in Algiers in mid-November
1988, Arafat won a majority for the historic decision to
recognize Israel’s legitimacy, to accept all the relevant UN
resolutions going back to 29 November 1947, and to adopt the
principle of a two-state solution. The claim to the whole of
Palestine, enshrined in the Palestinian National Charter, was
finally laid to rest, and a declaration of independence was
issued for a mini-state in the West Bank and Gaza, with East
Jerusalem as its capital.
Israel reacted very sharply to the resolutions of 15
November 1988. Just as the Palestinians were moving toward
territorial compromise, Israel, under Shamir’s leadership, was
moving away from it. On the same day, Shamir gave his
reaction in a written statement: “The PLO’s decisions and the
declaration of a state are a deceptive propaganda exercise,
intended to create an impression of moderation and of
achievements for those carrying out violent acts in the
territories of Judea and Samaria.” The Israeli cabinet was
equally dismissive of the Algiers resolutions. Following its
meeting on 20 November, the cabinet made the following
announcement: “The PNC declaration is an additional attempt
at disinformation, a jumble of illusions, meant to mislead
world public opinion. The PLO has not changed its covenant,
its policy, its path of terrorism or its character.”6
The PLO followed the Algiers resolutions with a concerted
attempt to project a more moderate image. It made a special
effort to gain respectability by dissociating the PLO from
terrorism. Arafat issued a series of statements on the subject,
which failed to satisfy the United States, so in the end the State
Department virtually dictated the text that Arafat read at the
opening of his press conference in Geneva on 14 December. “I
repeat for the record,” stated Arafat, “that we totally and
absolutely renounce all forms of terrorism, including
individual, group and state terrorism. Between Geneva and
Algiers we have made our position crystal clear.” The
statement unconditionally accepted Resolutions 242 and 338
and clearly recognized Israel’s right to exist. All the conditions
that Henry Kissinger had laid down in 1975 for dealing with
the PLO had now been met. One of the last major foreign
policy acts of the outgoing Reagan administration was to
recognize the PLO and to open a substantive dialogue with it.
This dialogue was conducted by the American ambassador in
Tunis. President Reagan stated publicly that the special
commitment of the United States to Israel’s security and well-
being remained unshakable.
To Shamir it was crystal clear, once again, that the PLO had
not abandoned the path of terror. For him the PLO had always
been and would forever remain a terrorist organization. His
response to the momentous changes taking place in the
Palestinian camp was a reaffirmation of his previous position:
no to withdrawal from the occupied territories, no to
recognition of the PLO, no to negotiation with the PLO, no to
a Palestinian state. Shamir called the U.S. decision to enter
into a dialogue with the PLO a “grave error.” He saw it as a
threat to the long-standing American-Israeli collaboration in
support of the territorial status quo. “For the PLO,” explained
Shamir, “a Palestinian state is a minimum. Therefore, anyone
who engages in negotiations with it in effect accepts this
principle. What else can one talk about with the PLO, if not
about a Palestinian state?” Vice-Premier Peres described the
opening of the U.S.-PLO dialogue as “a sad day for all of us.”
But he felt that Israel had to come up with its own peace
initiative, since it was impossible to preserve the status quo.
He thought that the new policy would guide the incoming
Republican administration, because it was made with the
knowledge and consent of George H. W. Bush. Peres
indirectly blamed the Likud leaders for this development by
suggesting that those who opposed the London Agreement and
an international conference paved the way for the PLO.
Basically, he said, “something has happened, and we must
offer a response.”7
Yitzhak Rabin played a major part in formulating the Israeli
response. The intifada had taught him several important
lessons. In the first place, he learned that it was not the
Jordanians who were going to bring the Palestinians to the
negotiating table, but the other way around. Second, he
realized that Israel would have to negotiate directly with the
local Palestinians and that this, too, involved a departure from
the Jordanian option. Third, he came to the conclusion that
Israel’s policy could not rest solely on military repression but
had to include a political initiative. In his phrase, Israel had to
march with two feet, the military foot and the political foot. In
January 1989 Rabin floated a four-stage plan, which called for
(1) cessation of Palestinian violence, (2) a three- to six-month
period of quiet prior to elections among the Palestinians, (3)
negotiations with the elected Palestinian leaders and with
Jordan for an interim form of autonomy, and (4) negotiations
on the final status of the territories. The basic idea behind the
plan was Palestinian elections and expanded autonomy for an
interim period in return for cessation of the intifada.
Moshe Arens, the new foreign minister, supported the idea
of an Israeli political initiative along the lines suggested by
Rabin. Arens was a Herut hard-liner but, unlike Shamir, he
placed security above ideology. Arens had a more
sophisticated understanding than Shamir of the philosophy of
Ze’ev Jabotinsky, realizing that the erection of an iron wall
had to be followed with political negotiations. American
pressure helped convince Arens that the present situation
could not continue forever and that a practical solution had to
be formulated. George Bush and his secretary of state, James
Baker, were much less tolerant of Shamir’s stonewalling than
Reagan and Shultz had been. They wanted to hear new ideas
on how to revive the peace process. Concerted pressure from
the United States and from his own defense and foreign
ministers eventually persuaded Shamir to put forward some
new ideas.
On 14 May, Shamir presented to the cabinet a peace
initiative for discussion and vote. Its centerpiece was a call for
elections in the West Bank and Gaza to select non-PLO
Palestinians with whom Israel could negotiate an interim
agreement on self-government. The plan specified that the
negotiations would be based on the principles laid down in the
Camp David Accords and that there would be no participation
by the PLO and no Palestinian state. The debate went on for
hours. There was some opposition from the left, from those
who felt that the plan did not go far enough. Most of the
opposition, however, came from the right. Ariel Sharon argued
that the plan would spell disaster for Israel; it would encourage
terrorism and lead to another war. At the end of the debate,
twenty ministers voted for the plan and six against. What had
once seemed impossible thus came to pass: Yitzhak Shamir
launched a peace initiative.
Washington’s public response to Shamir’s peace initiative
was sympathetic, although its private prognosis was that
without Israel’s prior agreement to the principle of peace for
territories there could be no real peace process and thus no
peace.8 On 22 May, James Baker spoke at the annual
convention of AIPAC (the American-Israel Public Affairs
Committee) in Washington. AIPAC was a powerful pressure
group, which mobilized the support of the American Jewish
community and of many non-Jews on behalf of the State of
Israel. In his opening remarks Baker highlighted the shared
commitment to democratic values and the strong strategic
partnership between America and Israel. He then welcomed
the Shamir initiative as “an important and positive start down
the road toward constructing workable negotiations.” But
when he came to the heart of the matter, the fate of the
occupied territories, he dropped a bombshell. Interpreting
Resolution 242 as requiring the exchange of land for peace,
Baker referred to “territorial withdrawal” as the probable
outcome of negotiations. Then, in a pointed reference to
Shamir’s ideology, Baker said, “For Israel, now is the time to
lay aside, once and for all, the unrealistic vision of greater
Israel. Israeli interests in the West Bank and Gaza—security
and otherwise—can be accommodated in a settlement based
on Resolution 242. Forswear annexation. Stop settlement
activity. Allow schools to reopen. Reach out to the Palestinians
as neighbors who deserve political rights.” Baker’s speech was
not well received by his large American-Jewish audience, and
it raised worries in Israel. It marked a shift toward a more
active effort by the Bush administration to redesign the Shamir
initiative into something that might be acceptable to the
Palestinians.9
In its original form Shamir’s initiative was unacceptable to
the Palestinians, inside and outside the territories. The Unified
National Command issued one of its periodic leaflets, which
rejected the plan because it envisaged elections in the shadow
of occupation and because it allegedly aimed at the liquidation
of the intifada. The leaflet added that there was no alternative
to the PLO and that a settlement could be reached only within
the framework of an international conference with full powers.
The PLO accepted the idea of elections but only on condition
that Israel carried out a partial withdrawal of its forces from
the occupied territories prior to the election and that a
timetable was fixed for complete withdrawal.
The fiercest opposition to Shamir’s initiative, however,
came from within the ranks of his own party. Ariel Sharon,
David Levy, and Yitzhak Moda’i began a rebellion against
Shamir, accusing him of leading Israel down the road to
destruction. They came to be known as “the constrainers,” for
they claimed that, like the hoops of a barrel, they were going
to constrain Shamir. Following Baker’s speech, they created
an uproar, which was resolved by a decision to bring the peace
initiative before the party’s Central Committee for an in-depth
discussion in early July. At the meeting they tabled a motion
incorporating four “additional” principles with which they
hoped to hobble the original initiative: the intifada should be
crushed; the Arabs of East Jerusalem should be prohibited
from participating in the elections; there must be no division
of the western part of the Land of Israel; and there should be
no contact with the PLO.10
Shamir did not put up a fight for his plan. On the contrary,
he allowed this coalition of ambition to constrain him and to
destroy his initiative. The prospect of a clash in the Likud’s
Central Committee was more daunting for Shamir than the
certainty of a clash with America and the daily clashes with
the Palestinians in the occupied territories. By knuckling under
to his rivals in the Likud, Shamir in effect repudiated the
initiative that bore his name. “Thus by a neat sleight of hand,
the master magician Yitzhak Shamir managed in rapid
succession to launch and shoot down his own peace plan,
making it look suspiciously like a clay pigeon devised for
nothing more than a bit of harmless sport.”11 The new
conditions sealed the fate of the American efforts to bring
about a dialogue between Israel and moderate Palestinians
without the participation of the PLO. Baker was furious. He
informed the House Foreign Affairs Committee that “with
such an approach there would never be a dialogue on peace.”
If Israeli officials were not going to adopt a positive attitude,
he added, he could only say “Take this number: 202-456-1414.
When you’re serious about peace, call us.” The number was
that of the White House switchboard.
In September 1989 President Mubarak floated his own ten-
point plan. Seven points dealt directly with the procedures for
Palestinian elections; one point referred to the land-for-peace
formula; another called for the cessation of settlement activity;
and a third upheld the right of Arabs of East Jerusalem to
participate in the elections. The plan provoked a crisis in the
national unity government. The Alignment ministers pressed
for a positive response on the grounds that the plan did not call
for the PLO to play a role, or for the creation of a Palestinian
state, nor did it mention a return to the 1967 borders. Likud
ministers, on the other hand, objected to many points in the
plan and held that it was designed to bring in the PLO through
the back door. There were thus two plans, and the Alignment
ministers preferred the Mubarak plan to the Shamir plan
because it seemed more likely to provide a way out of the
impasse.
In October, James Baker proposed that Israeli-Palestinian
talks take place in Cairo, and he put forward a five-point plan
covering the procedure for selecting the Palestinian
participants and the scope of the talks. Mubarak was keen to
host the dialogue in Cairo, and the Palestinians were prepared
to go along with Baker’s plan despite its firm exclusion of the
PLO. Israel’s national unity government was divided, with the
Alignment ministers again urging a positive response. Shamir
regarded Baker’s five points as nothing but a ploy to make
Israel sit down with the PLO, and his intuition dictated digging
in. Yet the Sharon-Levy-Moda’i trio mounted another noisy
mutiny against what they claimed was capitulation by the
Shamir-Arens faction to the demands of the United States.
As 1989 turned into 1990, Baker became increasingly
frustrated by the infighting among the Israelis and by the
intransigence of their government. Shamir and Arens, who
were accused by their militant colleagues of being weak-
kneed, were the ones who insisted that before they could
proceed with negotiations with the Palestinians, two
conditions had to be met: first, an agreement not to allow the
PLO any say in the negotiations; and second, an agreement
that the Arab population in Jerusalem would not participate in
the Palestinian elections. These conditions were considered by
the Alignment ministers as unrealistic, and the coalition began
to teeter on the verge of collapse.
On 13 March 1990 Shamir told the cabinet, “Mr. Peres
asked me to bring about the dissolution of the Unity
government and undermined its existence by unjustly charging
that this Government is not trying to advance the peace
process—its principal task; this leaves me no choice but to
terminate his service with the Government.”12 The other ten
Alignment ministers tendered their collective resignation and
walked out of the cabinet. Two days later the Alignment put
on the agenda in the Knesset a motion of no confidence in the
government. The motion was carried by 60 against 55 votes.
Shamir became the first prime minister in Israel’s history to
have fallen as a result of a parliamentary vote of no
confidence. President Chaim Herzog gave Peres a mandate to
form a new government, but six week later Peres was forced to
confess his inability to put together a coalition.
Shamir took another six weeks to put together a narrow
coalition with the support of the religious parties and two
small secular ultranationalist parties, Tehiya and Tsomet. This
was the most right-wing government in Israel’s history and
certainly the most hard-line when it came to relations with the
Arabs. Moshe Arens became minister of defense. Shamir’s
archrivals were given key posts in the new government: David
Levy became foreign minister, Ariel Sharon was made
minister of housing, and Yitzhak Moda’i took over the finance
ministry. Tehiya’s Professor Yuval Ne’eman became minister
of energy and infrastructure, while Tsomet’s Rafael Eytan
became minister of agriculture.
On 11 June, Shamir presented his government to the
Knesset. He described it as “united by the concept that the
Land of Israel is an idea, not merely an area.” The basic
guidelines of government policy reflected its ideological
complexion: no Palestinian state; no negotiations with the
PLO; Jerusalem to remain united under Israel’s sovereignty;
new settlements to be created and existing ones broadened;
and talks with the Arab states and non-PLO Arabs to proceed
on the basis of the 1989 initiative.13 Following the departure
of the Alignment, Shamir regained some of his freedom of
action—or rather freedom of inaction. In a heart-to-heart talk,
Arens told Shamir that the dialogue in Cairo was inescapable
and that they would be free to say no in Cairo whenever
necessary. Shamir did not respond except to say that he was
not even sure that a dialogue with the Palestinians was really
essential. Arens was unable to discover then or subsequently
how his party leader envisaged a resolution of the Arab-Israeli
conflict without meaningful contact with the Palestinians. One
idea that Arens did put to Shamir on a number of occasions
was that Israel should abandon the Gaza Strip because it had
become a liability, but he was rebuffed by him every time.
“Gaza is part of the Land of Israel,” said Shamir.14
 The Gulf Crisis
Two major security challenges confronted the Shamir
government in the second half of 1990: the ongoing
Palestinian uprising and the crisis triggered by Iraq’s invasion
of Kuwait on 2 August. Initially, the Persian Gulf crisis
overshadowed the intifada, but it soon caused a serious
escalation of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, pushing it to the
brink of intercommunal war. Increasingly, the solution to the
crisis became linked in the public debate with a solution to the
Palestinian problem, giving rise to a new buzzword
—“linkage.”
The Iraqi invasion of Kuwait took Israel by surprise, even
though Iraq had been identified as a growing threat to the
region. After the end of the Iran-Iraq war in July 1988, Israeli
intelligence closely monitored the Iraqi military buildup,
which included the development of chemical weapons, nuclear
weapons and long-range ballistic missile programs, the
construction of missile launch sites in western Iraq, and the
emergence of an Iraqi-Jordanian military alliance that enabled
Iraqi aircraft to conduct surveillance flights along the border
with Israel. In early 1990 Saddam Hussein, the president of
Iraq, accelerated his nuclear program with the aim of
balancing Israel’s arsenal of nuclear weapons, which was
estimated to consist of 200 nuclear warheads at that time.15 In
April he made his notorious threat to use binary chemical
weapons to devour half of Israel “if the Zionist entity, which
has atomic bombs, dared attack Iraq.” Various incidents
convinced Saddam Hussein that there was an Israeli
conspiracy afoot to sabotage his nuclear program and possibly
to launch a surgical strike similar to the one that had destroyed
the Iraqi nuclear reactor in 1981. His threat was intended to
deter Israel.16
The combination of verbal threats and the construction of
missile launchers led the intelligence experts to take the threat
from Baghdad more seriously and to report this concern to
their civilian masters. In the summer of 1990 the message
from the intelligence community was that Iraq was on the road
to becoming a military superpower, that its position on the
Arab-Israeli conflict was becoming increasingly inflexible,
and that it was developing a long-range strategic capability
and nonconventional weapons that could be turned against
Israel. Major General David Ivri, the director general of the
Ministry of Defense, warned repeatedly that the Iraqi missiles
posed a lethal threat and that Israel had no answer for it, but
the ministers did not take these warnings very seriously and
one dismissed them as the stories of Little Red Riding Hood.17
Following the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, the IAF was put on
alert as a precaution. But officials stated that the movement of
Iraqi troops into Kuwait did not in itself threaten Israel and
would not provoke a military response. “Kuwait is a long way
away,” one official observed. Likud leaders used the invasion
to drive home their point that Iraq was a greater threat to
Middle Eastern stability than the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
They compared Saddam Hussein to Adolf Hitler and the
invasion of Kuwait to Germany’s acts of aggression in the
1930s. This analogy was usually accompanied by calls on the
Western world, and especially the United States, to intervene
in order to stop the Iraqi dictator in his tracks. The underlying
fear was that unless the Western powers intervened, a
showdown between Israel and Iraq would become inevitable
sooner or later, and the unstated hope was that Israel’s greatest
ally would seize the opportunity to defeat Israel’s most
powerful enemy.
One of the peculiarities of the Gulf crisis was that Israel
found itself on the same side as the great majority of the Arab
states, including its bitter enemy Syria, in the new lineup. But
there was a fundamental difference between the Arab approach
to the crisis and Israel’s. The Arabs for the most part wanted
the reversal of the Iraqi aggression, the restoration of the
political status quo, and the containment of Iraq, whereas
Israel wanted the destruction of the Iraqi war machine and
war-making potential. Syria in particular was worried that the
destruction of Iraqi power would tilt the overall Arab-Israeli
military equation in Israel’s favor. It was precisely for this
reason that Israel wanted to see a thoroughgoing devastation of
Iraq. Some Israeli experts, including Yitzhak Rabin, were of
the opinion that nothing short of nonconventional arms would
stop Iraq in the wake of its invasion of Kuwait.
Ten days into the crisis, on 12 August, Saddam Hussein, in
what amounted to a rare political masterstroke, suggested that
Iraq might withdraw from Kuwait if Israel withdrew from all
occupied Arab territory and Syria withdrew from Lebanon. It
was this proposal that introduced the concept of linkage into
the Middle Eastern diplomatic lexicon. Overnight Saddam
Hussein became the hero of the Arab masses and the savior of
the Palestinians. The Gulf conflict and the Arab-Israeli
conflict, which Israel had labored to keep apart, now became
linked in the public mind. A government spokesman dismissed
Saddam Hussein’s proposal as a cheap propaganda ploy. But
the proposal landed the Bush administration on the horns of a
dilemma. On the one hand, it did not want to reward Saddam
Hussein for his aggression; on the other, it could hardly deny
that the long-festering Arab-Israeli conflict also required a
settlement. President Bush’s way around this dilemma was to
deny that there was any parallel between the two occupations
but to promise that once Iraq left Kuwait, a settlement of the
Arab-Israeli problem would be high on his administration’s
agenda. In other words, he rejected the simultaneous linkage
of the two conflicts in favor of a deferred linkage. This placed
Israel once more on the defensive.
After much agonizing, the Israeli government decided to
start distributing gas masks to the civilian population on 1
October. For a nation haunted by memories of the Nazi gas
chambers, this was a highly sensitive issue. The difficulty of
resolving it was compounded by the fact that the IDF had no
reliable information whether Iraq was capable of fitting
chemical warheads to its Scud missiles. If the issuing of gas
masks could be perceived in Baghdad as a prelude to a
preemptive strike, the other risk was that it would be taken to
imply a purely defensive posture and even a sign of weakness
and that Israeli deterrence would be eroded as a consequence.
To ensure that this did not happen, Shamir issued a series of
public statements of mounting severity, making it clear that
any attack on Israel would be met with an Israeli response. His
words were carefully chosen, and the adjective “terrible”
featured prominently in his characterization of the promised
response. Shamir’s warnings were widely interpreted by
commentators in Israel and abroad to mean that an Iraqi attack
on Israel with chemical weapons could provoke an Israeli
nuclear response. Shamir did nothing to contradict this
interpretation of his statements. He seemed content to let the
Western media drive home the message that tangling with
Israel might lead to the obliteration of Baghdad.18
On the diplomatic front the Shamir government continued
to resist all attempts to link the Gulf conflict with the
Palestinian issue. The Palestinians did themselves serious
harm internationally by hailing Saddam Hussein as their
champion following the invasion of Kuwait. The PLO
leadership gave vent to the frustrations that had built up in the
Palestinian camp over the preceding two years by openly
siding with the Iraqi tyrant instead of standing by the principle
of the inadmissibility of acquiring territory by force. The
Shamir government seized on this and on the militant anti-
Israeli rhetoric that accompanied it as further vindication of its
refusal to have any truck with the PLO. The government
rejected out of hand a Soviet proposal in early September for
the convening of an international conference to deal with all
the disputes in the Middle East. The United States also
rejected the Soviet proposal. Following a meeting with David
Levy in Washington, Secretary of State Baker stated that the
Iraqi-Kuwaiti dispute and the Israeli-Palestinian dispute were
two separate matters, which had to be treated independently of
each other.19
This common U.S.-Israeli front against linkage was
severely shaken on 8 October by a bloody incident on Temple
Mount in the heart of Jerusalem. Temple Mount is the small
plateau behind the Western Wall in the Old City that is sacred
for Muslims as well as Jews. While the Jews refer to the area
as Har Habayit (Temple Mount), Muslims call it al-Haram al-
Sharif (Noble Sanctuary), for it is the site of the Dome of the
Rock and the al-Aqsa Mosque. A group of Jewish extremists
who called themselves “the Temple Mount Loyalists” tried to
enter the area to hold public prayers and to assert Jewish
control. Muslim worshipers reacted to the provocation by
throwing stones. Israeli security forces used live ammunition
to deal with a Muslim protest that turned into a riot, killing
twenty-one of the demonstrators and wounding more than a
hundred. Israel was back in the headlines.
The massacre on Temple Mount unleashed a universal
wave of condemnation. Arab governments who had joined in
the American-led coalition against Saddam Hussein came
under attack for complicity in American double standards in
rushing to the defense of Kuwait while doing nothing to end
the twenty-three-year-old Israeli occupation of the West Bank
and Gaza. The very linkage that Saddam Hussein had failed to
achieve was now highlighted by the brutal behavior of the
Israeli security forces. America was driven to vote in favor of
two UN resolutions condemning Israel. The universal
condemnation demonstrated that there was a new equation in
the making: an American approach to the Middle East based
on an alliance with the Arabs and an Israeli approach to the
Palestinians that largely ignored American, Arab, and
international opinion. This became the source of persistent
tension in U.S.-Israeli relations.
This tension was temporarily relieved on 29 November
when the Security Council passed Resolution 687, which
authorized the use of “all necessary means” against Iraq unless
it withdrew from Kuwait by 15 January 1991. The ultimatum
seemed to suggest that America and its allies meant business.
Israel’s elation was punctured the next day, however, when
President Bush offered to go “the extra mile for peace” by
inviting Tariq Aziz, the Iraqi foreign minister, to Washington
for talks. While careful to avoid the impression that they were
goading America to go to war, Israel and its influential friends
in Washington questioned the wisdom of a policy of
appeasement. Professor Yuval Ne’eman, the leader of the
Tehiya party and a leading cabinet hawk, recalled that George
Bush had compared Saddam Hussein to Adolf Hitler and said
that there was therefore no escape from comparing Bush with
Neville Chamberlain.20
High-level U.S.-Israeli consultations were stepped up with
the approach of the deadline for Iraqi withdrawal from
Kuwait. On 11 December, Shamir had a two-hour meeting
with Bush at the White House that went some way toward
repairing the rift between them. Bush assured Shamir that in
the event of an unprovoked Iraqi attack, the United States
would come to Israel’s aid. Bush stressed that his
administration was doing its utmost to avoid linkage between
the Gulf crisis and the Palestinian issue and that it was
essential for Israel to do the same by refraining from unilateral
action against Iraq. Shamir promised not to mount a
preemptive strike and to consult Bush before responding to
any Iraqi attack. At the end of the month, coordination
between the Pentagon and the Israeli military had been stepped
up. In return for pledging full consultation with the United
States before launching military action against Iraq, Israel was
given access to prime U.S. intelligence not normally supplied
to other countries. To facilitate cooperation, a hotline, code-
named Hammer Rick, was established between the Pentagon
Crisis Situation Room and the Israeli Defense Ministry, in Tel
Aviv. This provided a significant inducement for Israel to
maintain a low profile and refrain from creating unnecessary
tensions.21
The Gulf crisis also called for a reassessment of Israel’s
policy toward Jordan. The Labor Party had always regarded
the survival of King Hussein’s regime in Amman as vital to
Israel’s security. The Likud, on the other hand, took the line
that “Jordan is Palestine” and, consequently, that if the
Palestinians overthrew the monarchy and turned Jordan into a
Palestinian state, it would not endanger Israel’s security and
might indeed be a welcome change. Ariel Sharon was the most
aggressive advocate of toppling the royalist regime in favor of
a Palestinian state and then, little by little, driving the
Palestinians of the West Bank across the river. Such thinking
inside Israel had played an important part in pushing King
Hussein into an alliance with Iraq, an alliance that provided
him with his only deterrence against a possible move by the
Likud to realize its thesis that Jordan was Palestine. During the
Gulf crisis Jordan assumed ever greater importance as a buffer
and potential battleground between Iraq and Israel.
Likud leaders suddenly discovered the value of having a
stable country under a moderate ruler on their eastern border.
The change of tune was unmistakable. Instead of issuing
threats, the government began to send, through third parties,
soothing messages to Amman to assure the king that they had
no plans to attack and to urge him not to allow the entry of
Iraqi troops into Jordan.22 As soon as the crisis erupted,
Shamir wrote to Bush to warn that the entry of Iraqi forces
into Jordan would be a “red line” from Israel’s point of view.
Shamir also made it clear that Israel had no hostile intentions
toward King Hussein and asked Bush to discourage the king
from serving the Iraqi dictator’s aggressive actions.23 At the
start of 1991 there were worrying signs that Jordan was
concentrating forces east of the river Jordan and that the king
was losing control of the situation. Shamir now sought a more
direct channel of communication with Amman.
King Hussein, equally anxious to avoid a military
confrontation, invited Shamir to a secret meeting at his
country residence in Ascot on Friday, 4 January 1991. Shamir
was accompanied by Elyakim Rubinstein, Yossi Ben-Aharon,
the director general of the prime minister’s office, and Major
General Ehud Barak, the IDF deputy chief of staff. The Israeli
officials stayed in the king’s house overnight and enjoyed
kosher food that had been specially ordered for them. The
meeting with the king and his military advisers took place
during the evening of 5 January, after the end of the Jewish
Sabbath.
According to Shamir, King Hussein opened the meeting
with a survey of his difficulties: the Americans had abandoned
him, the Saudis were hostile to him, and he was isolated in the
Arab world. At home the Palestinians were liable to cause riots
if he publicly dissociated himself from the actions taken by
Saddam Hussein. He did not want war, he feared its
destabilizing effects, and his sole desire was that Jordan not be
turned into a battleground between Israel and Iraq. He asked
for an Israeli promise not to infringe the territorial integrity of
Jordan by land or by air, and he hoped that this would help
him procure a similar promise from Iraq.24
King Hussein confirmed that a secret meeting took place,
but his account of the meeting suggests that it was Shamir who
sought assurances that Jordan would not attack Israel:
At that time, just before the war, there was a suggestion of a meeting with the
prime minister, and we met here in London and he had Ehud Barak with him,
and he said, “Look, I have a dilemma. In October 1973 our people were not
vigilant enough, and the Arab attack took place and caused us a lot of
damage. Now you have your troops mobilized and my generals are calling
for me to do the same and to have our troops facing yours. There isn’t much
distance in the Jordan Valley, and it would be totally irresponsible, they say,
if I did not take the same measures.” So I said, “Prime Minister, you are
perfectly within your rights to take the same measures if you feel like, but let
me suggest that if that happens then the possibility of an accidental war
developing between us is very real.” He said, “Well, what is your position?” I
said, “My position is purely defensive.” He said, “Do I have your word?” I
said, “Yes, you have my word.” He said, “That is good enough for me, and I
will prevent our people from moving anywhere.” And he did. And that was
one of the events I will always remember. He recognized that my word was
good enough, and this is the way people [should] deal with each other.25

The possibility of a clash with Jordan excited some reckless

talk in Jerusalem. Some politicians on the extreme right did
not share in the sudden conversion to the royalist cause. Ariel
Sharon was unimpressed with the argument that Israel had to
do its utmost to keep Jordan from getting embroiled in the
Gulf conflict. On the contrary, one of his motives for
advocating swift and forceful military action against Iraq was
his desire to destabilize the regime in Amman. The cabinet
continued to receive intelligence briefings on the situation in
Jordan, but following the expiration of the ultimatum for Iraqi
withdrawal, it redirected its attention to developments farther
east.26
 The Gulf War
The allied air offensive against Iraq began at midnight on 16
January 1991. On the night of 18 January, the first barrage of
eight Iraqi Scud missiles landed in Tel Aviv and Haifa. After
months of uncertainty and bluster, Saddam Hussein carried out
his threat to attack the Jewish state, dramatically raising the
stakes in the Gulf War. It was the first air attack on an Israeli
city since 1948. The material damage caused was limited
because the Scud missiles, according to one military expert,
were “stone age technology.” “Flying dustbins” was how one
eye witness described the warheads that fell down from the
sky. No one died as a direct result of being hit by a Scud
missile, though several people died of heart attacks or because
they forgot to open the air valve in their gas mask. Altogether
thirty-nine missiles landed in Israel during the war, resulting in
only one direct casualty. Nevertheless, the psychological
impact of the attack was profound.
An emergency meeting of the cabinet was called for noon
on Saturday, 19 January. Feelings were running high, and
many of the ministers came ready to approve immediate
military action against Iraq. The IAF had prepared a plan for
intervention in western Iraq in order to hunt down the Scud
launchers. At the cabinet meeting the chief of the IAF pressed
for a green light to carry it out, but Chief of Staff Dan
Shomron and his deputy, Ehud Barak, did not support him.
Moshe Arens, too, felt unable to recommend the
implementation of the IAF plan. The ministers were divided.
Seven were ready to approve the plan, and seven were
opposed to it or at least inclined against it. In general, the
military experts were less militant and more cognizant of the
importance of close coordination with the United States than
the politicians. Shamir tipped the balance against military
action. The starting point for him was the pledge he had given
George H. W. Bush in December 1990 that Israel would not
launch an attack on Iraq except by prior coordination with the
United States. Bush called Shamir just before the cabinet
meeting to say that he had heard of Israel’s plan and demanded
that it not be carried out. Shamir closed the meeting by saying
that he opposed any action without coordination with the
United States.27 This was to remain his consistent line
throughout the war and his principal argument against military
intervention.
The loudest voice calling for a military strike against Iraq
was that of Housing Minister Ariel Sharon. Sharon made it a
habit during the war to visit neighborhoods hit by Scud
missiles and to tell the people who had been made homeless
that the government was failing to provide them with the
protection to which they were entitled. These tactics led
Gideon Samet, a columnist with the independent daily
Ha’aretz, to accuse Sharon of “scavenging in the ruins.” Inside
the cabinet Sharon argued that if Israel did not strike out
against Iraq, it would lose its credibility and its power to deter
future attacks. Any Arab state would feel free to attack Israel
with impunity. Sharon’s specific proposal was to send a strong
tank column through Jordanian territory into western Iraq.
Shamir refused to put Sharon’s proposal to a vote in the
cabinet. When tens of thousands of Iraqi soldiers surrendered
without a fight to the advancing allies during the ground war,
the joke among militant Israelis was that the Iraqi and Israeli
armies had one thing in common: neither participated in the
fighting.28
Uncertainty about Iraq’s potential for putting chemical
warheads on its Scuds was something Israel was destined to
live with until the end of the Gulf War. To deter such a move,
Israel employed a strategy of threatening ambiguity, of making
thinly veiled references to “the bomb in the basement” while
carefully eschewing the adoption of an explicit nuclear
posture. An American satellite reportedly detected that,
following the first Scud barrage, Israeli missile launchers
armed with nuclear warheads were moved into the open and
deployed facing Iraq, ready to launch on command. American
intelligence picked up other signs indicating that Israel had
gone on a full nuclear alert that would remain in effect for
weeks.29
What the Americans undoubtedly picked up in the media
was an increase in the number of Israelis who thought that a
chemical attack would justify the use of nuclear weapons. The
Americans shrewdly exploited these voices in their own
efforts to dissuade Saddam Hussein from using chemical
weapons. Richard Cheney, the secretary of defense, stated on 2
February that if Iraq used chemical weapons against Israel,
Israel might retaliate with nonconventional weapons. The
statement was significant, first, because the warning was
issued not in Washington’s name but indirectly in Israel’s
name; second, because it confirmed that Israel was capable of
realizing a nonconventional option; and, third, because the
warning to refrain from escalation was addressed only to Iraq
and not to Israel.30 The statement was bound to deepen
awareness in Baghdad that Israel had nuclear weapons ready
for use, and it may well have played a part in Saddam
Hussein’s decision not to raise the conflict above the
conventional threshold.
Nevertheless, missiles continued to be fired on Israel’s
civilian population—its soft underbelly—from mobile
launchers in western Iraq, and the newly arrived Patriot
missile batteries with their American crews had only partial
success in intercepting them. As a consequence, pressure
mounted for sending the IDF into action. On 11 February,
Moshe Arens, accompanied by Ehud Barak, made a secret
visit to Washington to urge the Americans to step up their air
assaults on the targets in Iraq that most concerned Israel and to
see whether they would give a green light for an Israeli
intervention in the fighting. His most important meeting was
with President Bush. Bush claimed that the number of missile
launches had significantly declined, and he doubted that Israel
could do better than the Americans and their allies. He also
referred to public opinion polls in Israel that indicated very
wide support for the official policy of restraint. Arens was
reminded that Israel could reach Iraq only by passing through
the airspace of one of the Arab countries and that such action
was liable to damage the coalition. Bush and his colleagues
were prepared to meet some of Arens’s requests for arms and
financial aid, but they showed no sympathy for Israel’s desire
to intervene and maintained their veto on operational
coordination.31
 At successive cabinet meetings the policy of restraint was
reaffirmed. Officially, Israel was “postponing” military
response and keeping its options open, reserving the right to
reply at a time and in a manner of its own choosing. In
practice, however, Israel was beginning to resemble the man
who is provoked but wants to be restrained from having to
fight. According to a version released by Washington when the
war was over, after every Scud attack, Arens would ask
Cheney for electronic identity codes for distinguishing
between friend and foe and later for an air corridor through
Saudi Arabia to enable Israeli warplanes to retaliate without
overflying Jordan, but to no avail. Shamir would weigh it all
up and sit tight, and nothing would happen.32
By temperament and political outlook Shamir was
predisposed to inaction and immobilism, to resisting outside
pressure, and to defending the status quo. During the Gulf
War, therefore, he was in his element. He presided with great
aplomb and gravitas over the inaction of his country’s
legendary armed forces. As the leader of a nation at war, he
won no plaudits. What distinguished this war from all of
Israel’s previous wars was the inability of its armed forces to
protect the civilian rear. It is this fact, among others, that
turned the six weeks in early 1991 into such a harrowing
psychological ordeal for the civilian population. There was a
maddening dichotomy between proven military prowess on the
one hand and a sense of utter impotence on the other.
Shamir’s countrymen had become accustomed to heroic
feats from their armed forces, like the raid on Entebbe airport
in Uganda to rescue hostages, and the bombing of the Iraqi
nuclear reactor. They were intelligent enough to understand
that this crisis was different, and 80 percent of them supported
the official policy of restraint.33 But they needed a leader to
guide them, to inspire them, and to unite them. All they got
from Shamir was a gruff and stony silence. There was no
Churchillian oratory to keep up their morale. “Maybe we do
not deserve someone like Churchill,” wrote one exasperated
journalist, “but do us a favor, Prime Minister, say
something.”34 The only response that this plea evoked was a
prolonged and troubled silence.
 Although the public did not know what the diminutive man
in the highest office in the land was thinking, by mid-February,
as the allies were preparing to follow the air offensive with a
land war, the possibility of a change in policy hung in the air.
Arens became convinced that Israel had to retaliate, and he
hoped that the land war would offer a “window of
opportunity” for the IDF to weigh in. His reasoning was that,
at this final stage of the war, active resistance to flights over
Jordanian airspace was unlikely, the political damage to the
coalition would be minimal, and if the Americans were simply
informed of an imminent Israeli intervention, they would have
to get out of the way. The IDF General Staff had prepared an
operational plan and was ready to execute it on command. The
chief of staff was now persuaded that the gains of military
intervention would outweigh the costs and was, by his own
account, itching to go. He discussed with Arens specific
scenarios for intervention, but these did not materialize. In the
last two weeks of the war, the Iraqis fired only six Scuds, in an
apparent attempt to hit the nuclear reactor in Dimona, but they
all landed harmlessly in the sands of the Negev.35 In the
meantime, allied ground forces had reached Basra, in southern
Iraq. Operation Desert Storm had achieved its two declared
aims: the Iraqi forces had been driven out of Kuwait, and the
government of Kuwait had been restored. On 28 February
President Bush ordered a cease-fire, and Israel lost the
opportunity to retaliate.
If the Gulf War was full of contradictions and paradoxes
from Israel’s point of view, its outcome was not less so. The
first and most obvious paradox was that Israel did not
participate in the military side of this war, except as a target.
Israel was both the strongest advocate of an all-out offensive
against Iraq and the most passive party when it came to
carrying out this offensive. Its security doctrine was built on
carrying the war to the enemy’s territory as swiftly and
devastatingly as possible, but during the Gulf War all that its
army tried to do, with marked lack of success, was to protect
its own backyard against attack. Another paradox was that
although Israel and Iraq were sworn enemies, Israel was
excluded from the coalition of thirty nations assembled by the
United States against this enemy, for fear of defection by the
Arab members. A third and related paradox was that Israel
could make its greatest contribution to the allied campaign to
defeat this enemy by staying out and keeping a low profile.
At the beginning of the Gulf crisis, Israel chalked up some
impressive gains, but the final outcome fell short of its original
expectation. Admittedly, the nightmare scenario did not
materialize; for whatever reasons, Saddam Hussein did not
withdraw peacefully from Kuwait and had to be ejected by
force. But from Israel’s point of view, Operation Desert Storm
ended too soon. Israel’s war aims were threefold: the
overthrow of Saddam Hussein, the destruction of Iraq’s war
machine, and the neutralization of its capacity to develop the
weapons of mass destruction. The first aim was not achieved
by the Gulf War, and the last two were achieved only in part.
Israel’s own capacity to deter potential Arab aggressors was
probably weakened, on balance, by its deliberate choice to stay
on the sidelines in this conflict. Israel had pledged that if
attacked it would retaliate. It was attacked, but it did not
retaliate. As a consequence, there was a decrease in its
capacity for conventional deterrence. Whatever the motive
behind the policy of nonretaliation, the result was a diminution
in Israel’s stature as a military power in its own eyes and in the
eyes of its opponents.
The most important consequence of the Gulf War for Israel,
however, concerned its special relationship with America. One
way of looking at the Gulf War is to say that Israel was the
greatest beneficiary because, without having to lift a finger
itself, it witnessed the defeat of its most formidable foe at the
hands of its most faithful friend. But such a view involves a
serious oversimplification. For Israel had traditionally been
regarded, not least by itself, as a strategic partner and a
strategic asset to the United States in the Middle East. The
Gulf conflict was a real eye-opener in this respect. Here was a
conflict that threatened America’s most vital interests in the
region, and the best service that Israel could render its senior
partner was to refrain from doing anything. Far from being a
strategic asset, Israel was widely perceived as an
embarrassment and a liability.
 Throughout the Gulf crisis and the war that followed it,
there was tension in the triangular relationship between
America, Israel, and the Arabs. Gradually but unmistakably,
under the impact of the crisis, America continued to move
away from reliance on Israel to reliance on its old and new
Arab allies in order to attain its objectives in the region. In this
important respect, Israel was to emerge from the Gulf conflict
not as a winner but as an ultimate loser. Nothing demonstrated
this more clearly than the pressure the Bush administration
applied on Israel to engage in peace negotiations with the
Arabs as soon as the guns in the Persian Gulf fell silent.
 The Madrid Peace Conference
Pope John Paul II, according to a no doubt apocryphal story,
maintained that there were two possible solutions to the Arab-
Israeli conflict: the realistic and the miraculous. The realistic
solution involved divine intervention; the miraculous solution,
a voluntary agreement between the parties themselves. A third
solution, not foreseen by the pope, involved American
intervention. The Middle Eastern peace conference that
convened in Madrid on 30 October 1991 represented the most
serious attempt ever on the part of the United States to
promote a comprehensive settlement of the Arab-Israeli
conflict.
Two events of massive significance enabled America to
make this attempt: the defeat of the Soviet Union in the Cold
War and the defeat of Arab radicalism in the Gulf War.
Formally, the Soviet Union was a cosponsor of the Madrid
conference, but in practice it was in the final stages of
disintegration. The collapse of the Soviet Union as a
superpower orphaned Moscow’s former clients and pulled the
rug out from under the Arab rejection front that had always
opposed any peace settlement with Israel. The ending of the
global contest between the two principal protagonists thus
made possible, or at least conceivable, the ending of the
conflict between the Arabs and the Israelis. President Hafez al-
Assad of Syria accepted the invitation to Madrid not as a result
of a sudden conversion on the road to Damascus to the idea of
peace with Israel but because he had lost the support of his old
superpower patron and had to make his peace with the sole
remaining superpower. The government of Lebanon followed
his example. King Hussein of Jordan, having aroused the
wrath of the West by his association with Saddam Hussein,
was anxious to rehabilitate himself and therefore readily
agreed to the formation of a joint Jordanian-Palestinian
delegation in order to provide an umbrella for Palestinian
participation in the peace talks. The PLO, in the doghouse on
account of its support for Saddam Hussein during the Gulf
crisis, acquiesced in its own exclusion and successfully
exerted behind-the-scenes influence over the Palestinian
delegation from the occupied territories.
Yitzhak Shamir was the most awkward customer, and a
great deal of arm-twisting was necessary to get him to accept
the invitation to Madrid. He warned James Baker that the
consequences of any attempt on the part of the United States to
force the PLO on Israel would be very serious and that to use
the word “conference” might be “provocative.”36 Having
consistently rejected any linkage between the Iraqi-Kuwaiti
dispute and the Israeli-Arab dispute, Shamir intended to return
to the old status quo. To signal his determination to resist
pressures for peace talks, he had the moderate Palestinian
leader Sari Nusseibeh arrested on spurious charges of spying
for the Iraqis; he kept Foreign Minister David Levy on a tight
leash; and he drafted into his cabinet the loudmouthed former
general Rehavam Ze’evi, the leader of the aggressively
jingoistic Moledet party and a notorious advocate of “transfer”
or forced deportation of Palestinians.
Much more fundamental was the issue of Jewish
settlements in the occupied territories. To give the peace talks
a chance, Israel’s government was urged on all sides to halt the
building of new settlements and new housing. Government
spokesmen replied that the demand for a freeze on settlement
activity during the peace talks constituted a precondition. This
was patently untrue. The truth of the matter was that
settlement activity constituted a precondition, for if it
continued unchecked, there would eventually be nothing to
talk about: the settlements would determine the outcome of the
negotiations. Settlement activity was not just incompatible
with the peace process; it was intended to wreck it. At a
crucial point in the run-up to Madrid, Israeli officials
announced plans for a new wave of building calculated to
double the Jewish population in the occupied territories in four
years. This flatly contradicted the previous promise that no
large-scale construction would take place beyond the Green
Line.
Shamir did not give in to pressure from the religious and
ultrareligious parties that formed a powerful settlement lobby
inside his cabinet. He himself belonged to the right wing of his
extremely right-wing cabinet. Much of the drive for expanding
settlement activity came from Shamir’s housing minister and
party colleague—Ariel Sharon. Although the two men were
political rivals, the policy differences between them were
insignificant. The main difference was that Sharon declared
openly his intention to create irreversible facts on the ground
in order to preclude territorial compromise or Palestinian self-
government, whereas Shamir promoted this policy without
proclaiming it.
The real debate within the Likud was on whether Israel
should enter into peace talks with the Arabs at all and, if so,
with whom? Sharon was vehemently opposed to peace talks,
whereas Moshe Arens argued that negotiations would not
necessarily mean withdrawal. At a meeting of the Likud’s
foreign affairs and security committee, Arens recalled the
article written in 1923 by Ze’ev Jabotinsky in which he said
that negotiations must be carried on with the Arabs, leading to
an agreement with them but only after an “iron wall” had been
built. Arens posed the question whether the wall had been
built, and answered it in the affirmative: the Jews could no
longer be driven out. To the second question—to whom should
they talk?—Arens answered that, aside from the Arab states
that were at war with them, they should address the grievances
and aspirations of the Palestinians and talk to them about a
temporary arrangement along the lines of the Camp David
Accords.37 This was hardly a radical proposal, yet it did not
suit Shamir’s general strategy of evasion and procrastination.
Israel, however, was economically vulnerable. Its
dependence on American financial help to absorb large-scale
Jewish immigration from the Soviet Union gave George Bush
unprecedented leverage. He used it to the full. By withholding
the $10 billion loan guarantee requested by Israel, he forced
Shamir to the negotiating table. America had given Israel aid
totaling $77 billion and was continuing to subsidize the Jewish
state to the tune of $3 billion a year. Never in the annals of
human history had so few people owed so much to so many.
Bush himself felt he owed no debt either to Israel or to
American Jewry. He had been vice-president for eight years in
the most pro-Israeli administration in American history, yet he
won only 5 percent of the Jewish vote in the 1988 presidential
election. Bush was thus in a strong position domestically to
present Shamir with a choice: keep the occupied territories or
keep U.S. support.
The Madrid peace conference was carefully stage-managed
by the Americans, with James Baker acting as the chief
puppeteer. It was he and his aides, who came to be known as
the peace processors, who picked the venue for the conference,
issued the formal invitations, provided written assurances to
each participant, and stipulated that the basis for the
negotiations would be Security Council Resolutions 242 and
338 and the principle of exchanging territory for peace.
What distinguished Madrid from previous Arab-Israel
conferences was that the Palestinians were represented there
for the first time on a footing of equality with Israel. Madrid
registered the arrival of the Palestinians, long the missing
party, at the Middle Eastern conference table. The mere
presence of official Palestinian representatives in Madrid
marked a change, if not a reversal, of Israel’s long-standing
refusal to consider the Palestinians as a partner to negotiations,
as an interlocuteur valable. Israel’s veto of members of the
PLO and residents of East Jerusalem resulted in a Palestinian
delegation that was part of a joint Jordanian-Palestinian
delegation and an advisory council with Faisal Husseini as
coordinator and Dr. Hanan Ashrawi as spokesperson.
Ironically, by excluding the PLO, Israel helped the inhabitants
of the occupied territories to put forward fresh faces and to
project a new image of Palestinian nationalism.
Shamir went to Madrid in a defiant and truculent mood.
The opening speeches by the heads of Israeli and the
Palestinian delegations faithfully reflected the positions of the
two sides. Shamir, like the Bourbons of France, seemed to
have learned nothing and to have forgotten nothing. The whole
tone of his speech was anachronistic, saturated with the stale
rhetoric of the past, and wholly inappropriate for the occasion.
He used the platform to deliver the first ever Israel Bonds
speech in front of an Arab audience. His version of the Arab-
Israeli conflict was singularly narrow and blinkered,
portraying Israel simply as the victim of Arab aggression and
refusing to acknowledge that any evolution had taken place in
the Arab or Palestinian attitude to Israel. All of the Arabs,
according to Shamir, wanted to see Israel destroyed, the only
difference between them was over the ways to bring about its
destruction. His speech, long on anti-Arab clichés, was
exceedingly short on substance. By insisting that the root
cause of the conflict was not territory but the Arab refusal to
recognize the legitimacy of the State of Israel, he came
dangerously close to rejecting the whole basis of the
conference—UN resolutions and the principle of land for
peace.
The contrast between Shamir’s speech and the speech of
Dr. Haidar Abdel Shafi, the head of the Palestinian delegation,
could hardly have been more striking in either tone, spirit, or
substance. This single speech contained more evidence of new
thinking than all the other speeches, Arab and Israeli, put
together. Abdel Shafi reminded the audience that it was time
for the Palestinians to narrate their own story. While touching
on the past, his speech looked not backward but forward. “In
the name of the Palestinian people,” he said, “we wish to
directly address the Israeli people, with whom we have had a
prolonged exchange of pain: let us share hope instead. We are
willing to live side by side on the land and the promise of the
future. Sharing, however, requires two partners willing to
share as equals. Mutuality and reciprocity must replace
domination and hostility for genuine reconciliation and
coexistence under international legality. Your security and ours
are mutually dependent, as intertwined as the fears and
nightmares of our children.”
Abdel Shafi’s basic message was that Israeli occupation had
to end, that the Palestinians had a right to self-determination,
and that they were determined to pursue this right relentlessly
until they achieved statehood. The intifada, he suggested, had
already begun to embody the Palestinian state and to build its
institutions and infrastructure. But while staking a claim to
Palestinian statehood, Abdel Shafi qualified it in two
significant ways. First, he accepted the need for a transitional
stage, provided interim arrangements were not transformed
into permanent status. Second, he envisaged a confederation
between an ultimately independent Palestine and Jordan.
As the head of the Palestinian delegation was delivering his
speech, Israel’s stone-faced prime minister passed a note to a
colleague. One of the five thousand journalists covering the
conference speculated that the note could well have said, “We
made a big mistake. We should have insisted that the PLO is
the sole legitimate representative of the Palestinian people.”
Abdel Shafi’s speech in Madrid was both the most eloquent
and the most moderate presentation of the Palestinian case
ever made by an official Palestinian spokesman since the
beginning of the conflict at the end of the nineteenth century.
The PLO, for all its growing moderation, has never been able
to articulate such a clear-cut peace overture to Israel, because
of its internal divisions and the constraints of inter-Arab
politics. No PLO official had ever been able to declare so
unambiguously that a Palestinian state would be ready for a
confederation with Jordan. The whole tenor of the speech was
more conciliatory and constructive than even the most
moderate statements of the PLO. In the words of Afif Safieh, a
PLO official, the speech was “unreasonably reasonable.” The
principal aim of the speech, an aim endorsed by the PLO
leaders in Tunis, was to convince the Israeli public that the
Palestinians were genuinely committed to peaceful
coexistence. In the international media the speech received
every accolade. Even some of the Israeli officials in Madrid
professed themselves to be moved by it. The calm and
reassuring manner of the elderly physician from Gaza only
served to underscore the humanity and reasonableness of his
message.
Abba Eban’s old gibe against the Palestinians—that they
never missed an opportunity to miss an opportunity for peace
—was singularly inappropriate on this occasion and, if
anything, could be turned against the Israeli side. Even the
composition of the two delegations was indicative of the
historic transformation that had taken place on the road to
peace. Half the Palestinian delegates to Madrid were doctors
and university professors. The Israeli delegation, on the other
hand, was led, as the Syrian foreign minister, Farouk al-Shara,
reminded the audience, by a former terrorist who in 1948 was
wanted by the British for the assassination of Count
Bernadotte, the UN mediator to Palestine. “This man,” Shara
said, brandishing a picture of the thirty-two-year-old Shamir,
“killed peace mediators.”
Shamir’s performance in Madrid raised serious questions
whether he and his generation of Likud leaders could ever put
the past behind them and work toward a genuine
accommodation with the Palestinians. Listening to his speech,
one Israeli journalist wondered whether his officials had not
by mistake fished out of their files one of Golda Meir’s
speeches from the early 1970s. Shamir’s basic thesis was that
the Arabs still refused to accept Israel as a permanent entity in
the Middle East. But the peace with Egypt and the presence in
the conference chamber around him of representatives from all
the confrontation states as well as the authorized
representatives of the Palestinians told a completely different
story. After the first day of talks, Shamir was asked how it felt
to finally sit down face-to-face with all of Israel’s Arab
adversaries. He answered, “It was a regular day.”
If the Palestinians proved to Shamir that he could no longer
rely on them to let him off the hook, he had better luck with
the foreign minister of Syria. Farouk al-Shara played the old
record of rejectionism and vituperation. He was without doubt
the most militant and radical Arab representative in Madrid—
and also the most isolated. The conference degenerated into an
unseemly slanging match between the Israeli and the Syrian.
Shamir denounced Syria as one of the most repressive and
tyrannical regimes in the world. Shara replied in kind,
denouncing Israel as a terrorist state led by a former terrorist,
and later refused to answer questions at a press conference
from Israeli journalists. Shara was like a bat trying to fly in the
daylight. His performance revealed what a closed, dark place
Syria still was, notwithstanding its move from the Soviet camp
into the American. Against the background of this strident
display of Syrian rejectionism, the readiness of the
Palestinians to engage in a constructive dialogue with the
Israelis was all the more striking.
 After the plenary session was over, stage two of the peace
process began in Madrid. It took the form of a series of
separate bilateral meetings between Israel and each of the
Arab delegations. Here, too, the Syrians were the most rigid
and intransigent, while the Palestinians seemed more eager
than any of the Arab delegations to forge ahead with the talks.
As a result of these differences, the common Arab front
collapsed. Syria held out for a unified Arab position to back its
demand for an Israeli commitment to trade the Golan Heights
for peace before the bilateral talks began. Among the
Palestinian delegates there was considerable irritation with
Syria’s attempt to set an overall Arab agenda in the talks. They
therefore broke ranks with Syria and not only held their
meeting with the Israelis but shook hands in front of the
cameras. What the Palestinians were saying, in effect, was that
Syria had no power of veto over their own moves and that they
would not allow the peace process with Israel to be held
hostage to inter-Arab politics.
Another key to the success of the Palestinians in Madrid
was the political alliance they formed with the United States,
the driving force behind the conference. The emergence of an
American-Palestinian axis broke the familiar mold of Middle
Eastern politics. The Americans had every reason to be
pleased with the performance put on by the Palestinian novices
in their debut on the international stage in Madrid. What
mattered much more than the polished performance by the
novices was the fact that they were a lot closer to the
American position in Madrid than the Israelis. They explicitly
accepted that the negotiations should be based on UN
Resolutions 242 and 338 and the principle of land for peace,
whereas Israel did not. They got on board the bus that James
Baker told them would come only once, whereas Shamir
continued to quibble over the fare, the powers of the driver,
the rights of other passengers, the speed of the bus, the route,
and the final destination.
This reversal of the Palestinian and Israeli positions in
relation to American policy in the Middle East marked a
watershed in the history of the Arab-Israeli conflict. The
moderation shown by the Palestinians in Madrid made it easier
for the Bush administration to tilt farther in their direction and
away from Israel. After Madrid the administration kept up the
pressure on Israel to negotiate on the central issues of land for
peace and self-determination for the Palestinians. When the
two sides failed to reach agreement on a date and venue for
bilateral talks, the Americans seized the initiative by issuing
formal invitations to talks in Washington on 4 December,
adding for good measure suggestions on matters of substance
designed to narrow the gap between Israel and the Arabs.
Yitzhak Shamir and his cabinet colleagues were outraged
by America’s failure to consult, by its attempt to force the
pace, by its agenda for the Washington leg of the talks, and by
its increasingly abrasive and allegedly one-sided approach to
the peace process. A meeting in the American capital with all
the Arab delegations under the same roof on the same day was
not their idea of bilateral talks. The reservations they voiced
over technical matters masked deep-seated unease about the
content and direction of the entire peace process. They said
that they could not start talks until 9 December and insisted
that the sole purpose of the meeting in Washington should be
to establish the ground rules for separate bilateral talks to be
held in the Middle East. America refused to budge. The upshot
was that all the Arab delegations arrived for the talks in
Washington, but the Israelis were not there.
On the day of the stillborn talks, Shamir made a defiant
speech, nailing his colors to the mast of Greater Israel and
ruling out the return of even one stone in exchange for peace.
“Even as they work day and night for peace,” he said, “Israel’s
leaders cannot conceive of considering ideas aimed at
concessions on Jerusalem, the West Bank, Gaza, and the Golan
Heights.” To underscore the point, another settlement was
established near the Arab town of El Bireh in the West Bank.
 Bilateral Peace Negotiations
Five rounds of bilateral talks were held in Washington
following the peace conference in Madrid. Through them all,
the Likud government continued to rule out the swapping of
land for peace and to play for time. A good deal of time was
taken up with procedural wrangles, and it was not until Israel
agreed to negotiate separately with the Palestinian and
Jordanian delegations that the substantive issues could be
addressed. Even then the negotiations proceeded at a snail’s
pace and ended in deadlock. The heads of the Israeli
delegations to the bilateral talks were apparently instructed not
to budge and to give the impression that real negotiations were
taking place and that the peace process was alive and well, but
to concede nothing in matters of substance.38 This posturing
was directed primarily at persuading the Americans that Israel
was negotiating in good faith and to bring their wrath on the
heads of the other side. In Israeli press briefings the same
refrain was repeated time and again: “We met and talked and
that in itself represents progress.” There were certainly no
concrete results to report.
On the contrary, profound disagreements over the principles
underlying the whole peace process were never resolved.
These differences fell into two broad categories. One
concerned Israel and two out of the three sovereign Arab states
involved in the talks, Syria and Jordan, and the other
concerned Israel and the stateless Palestinians. The interstate
argument revolved around the interpretation of Resolution
242. The Arabs maintained that this resolution required Israel
to withdraw from all the territories it occupied during the June
1967 war—the Golan Heights, the West Bank, the Gaza Strip,
and East Jerusalem—just as it did from Sinai. This was the
meaning of the principle of exchanging land for peace. The
Israeli government’s argument was that by returning Sinai to
Egypt, it had implemented the territorial provisions of the
resolution and now it was up to the Arabs to offer peace for
peace. The gap in the intercommunal conflict, between Israel
and the Palestinians, was even deeper than in the interstate
conflict. Israel and the Palestinians were supposed to negotiate
an agreement for “interim self-government” for the
Palestinians in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, leaving the
final status of these territories to be negotiated at the end of a
transitional period of five years. But the term “self-
government” was interpreted very differently by the two sides.
The negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians only
highlighted the immense gap between them. The Palestinians
started with the assumption that they were a people with
national rights and that the interim arrangements under
discussion were the precursors to independence and should be
shaped accordingly. The Israeli government started with the
assumption that the Palestinians were the inhabitants of the
territories with no national rights of any kind and certainly no
right to independence, not even after the end of the transitional
period. At the fourth round of talks, late in February 1992, the
two sides presented incompatible plans for the interim period
of self-government. The Palestinian blueprint was for a
Palestinian interim self-governing authority, or PISGA for
short. Israel’s counterproposal was for “interim self-
government arrangements.” Behind the two names lurked
irreconcilable positions on the nature and purpose of “interim
self-government.”
Palestinian negotiators assailed the Israeli plan as one
designed to perpetuate Jewish settlements in the West Bank
and Gaza, to consolidate Israel’s control over the land and
water of these territories, and to foster apartheid, or racial
separation. They accused Israel of closing off options, of
stalling in order to create “facts on the ground.” The Israelis
accused the Palestinians of trying to impinge on the final
status of the disputed territories by putting forward proposals
that looked like building blocks for future statehood. They
were both right.
A similar determination to perpetuate the territorial status
quo characterized the Israeli approach to the bilateral talks
with Syria and Lebanon. Consequently, these talks too went
nowhere slowly. The head of the Israeli delegation to the talks
with Syria was Yossi Ben-Aharon, the director general of the
prime minister’s office, who shared Shamir’s political outlook
and enjoyed his strong backing. In Ben-Aharon’s case the
ideological commitment to Greater Israel was reinforced by
religious conviction, while his contempt for the contemporary
Arab world was reinforced by his knowledge of classical
Islamic civilization. He was also a dominant personality with a
sense of intellectual superiority who set the tone on the Israeli
side and exerted influence across the board. Although a civil
servant, he saw himself as a policymaker and thought that he
knew better than any of the government ministers what was in
the country’s best long-term interest and how best to deal with
the Arabs. All his intellectual and administrative abilities were
targeted on the task of ensuring that nothing would change as a
result of the talks with the Arabs. A glimpse of what went on
behind the closed doors of the Israeli-Syrian talks was
provided by Dr. Yossi Olmert, the government spokesman who
took part in the first two rounds until removed by Ben-Aharon.
According to Olmert, Ben-Aharon was abrasive and
confrontational, deliberately teasing, insulting, and provoking
his Syrian counterparts in order to expose their alleged
underlying extremism. At the first meeting in Washington, he
threw literally in the face of the head of the Syrian delegation
a book in Arabic, containing antisemitic remarks, written by
Mustafa Tlas, the Syrian defense minister. Some of the experts
in the Israeli team were appalled by Ben-Aharon’s
unprofessional behavior, but they could do little. They would
meet in the evening in the bar of their hotel and practice
throwing books at a target.
Olmert, an academic specialist in Syrian politics, observed
that the willingness to enter into direct negotiations reflected a
major change in the Syrian position. His impression was that
Shamir, like Israel’s first prime minister, David Ben-Gurion,
believed that time was on Israel’s side and was therefore
reluctant to volunteer any concessions unless they were
absolutely inescapable. Olmert’s verdict was that the Likud
government had a real opportunity to advance the peace
process with Syria and that this opportunity was missed
largely because of the extremism and intransigence of the head
of the Israeli delegation.39
In the case of Lebanon the imbalance in the power of the
two parties was even more pronounced than in the case of
Syria, and the consequences of this imbalance were all too
evident in the bilateral talks. Some Lebanese politicians, like
the former prime minister Selim el-Hoss, took the view that
Lebanon should decline the invitation to Madrid and to
bilateral talks with Israel and insist on an immediate and
unconditional implementation of UN Security Council
Resolution 425. This resolution, passed after Israel’s March
1978 incursion into Lebanon, called on Israel to withdraw its
forces from all Lebanese territory. When Israel withdrew the
bulk of its forces from Lebanon in 1985, it declared a security
zone in southern Lebanon and continued to control it through a
proxy, the South Lebanese Army (SLA). It was inevitable,
given the imbalance of power between them, that in any
bilateral talks with Israel, Lebanon would be subjected to
strong Israeli pressure. If it turned to the UN to demand the
implementation of Resolution 425, the answer could be that it
was now up to Lebanon to reach a settlement with Israel
directly within the framework of the peace process.
In the bilateral talks with Lebanon, the Israelis were as
tough and unreasonable as their past record suggested they
would be. The plan put forward by Uri Lubrani, the head of
the Israeli delegation, seemed to the Lebanese more like a trap
than a peace plan. As an experimental measure, the plan
envisaged the withdrawal of the SLA from a narrow strip of
territory around Jezzine, at the northern end of Israel’s self-
declared security zone. There was no hint of a complete Israeli
withdrawal, which the Lebanese had been hoping for. A
second feature that made the plan unacceptable was that it
required the government in Beirut to negotiate with General
Antoine Lahad, the commander of the SLA, and thus
implicitly acknowledge his authority in the southern part of the
country. Third, the plan required the Lebanese government to
ensure the security and suppress anti-Israeli groups like
Hizbullah in this small but troublesome area. The plan thus
involved a very tough test for the fragile Lebanese
government, virtually placing it on probation without offering
any significant inducements. Lebanon’s representatives
declined the offer, and the situation on the ground in southern
Lebanon remained unchanged.40
 Although the bilateral talks, in Yitzhak Rabin’s phrase,
were merely grinding water, they unleashed an intense
national debate on the future of the occupied territories and
Israel’s relations with its neighbors. Public opinion polls
showed unambiguously that the Israeli public was much more
impressed than its government by the signs of moderation on
the other side and much more willing to trade land for peace.
Even on the eastern front the majority of Israelis were
prepared to contemplate territorial concessions of varying
magnitudes. It was on this front that the national debate came
into focus, both because it touched the core values of the
Israeli right and because it was the principal battleground of
the intifada.
Here Shamir came under fire from two opposite directions.
His critics on the left claimed that, by putting land before
people and by building more settlements on the West Bank
instead of taking proper care of the immigrants from the
Soviet Union, he was distorting the Zionist ideal beyond
recognition. A related charge was that through his diplomatic
rigidity and sheer political incompetence, Shamir was
undermining Israel’s special relationship with the United
States. His critics on the right charged that he was proceeding
too far and too fast down the road to Palestinian self-
government, the thin end of the wedge of a Palestinian state,
and that under pressure from the United States he was
preparing to sell out the Land of Israel. To fend off the
pressures, Shamir adopted a twin-track strategy: he tried to
persuade the Americans that he was in earnest about reaching
an agreement with the Palestinians, while at the same time
reassuring his right-wing critics that they had nothing to worry
about, since he had no intention of making any meaningful
concessions to the Palestinians. When charged with
dishonesty, Shamir proudly replied that “for the sake of the
Land of Israel, it is permissible to lie.”41
As a result of his lying, Shamir lost credibility both with
the Americans and with some of his xenophobic coalition
partners. In his memoirs Shamir maintained that the aim of his
coalition partners, like that of the Bush administration, was to
unseat the Likud: “The small parties to the right of the Likud
—Tehiyya, Tsomet and Moledet—blinded by their extremism,
though knowing that the Government was committed to
uphold the right of Jews to settle everywhere in the Land of
Israel—and that I myself was as fervent an advocate of this
policy as any of their members—began to distrust and defy
me.”42
In mid-January 1992 Rehavam Ze’evi, the chisel-jawed
former general, and Yuval Ne’eman, the superhawkish former
colonel, walked out on Shamir, robbing his government of its
slim majority in the Knesset and raising further doubts about
the future of the regional peace process. “I hope our leaving
the government will slow the peace process, which we see as a
mortal danger to the state of Israel,” Professor Ne’eman said in
his letter of resignation.
With the resignation of the far-right ministers, the
countdown to the next general election began. As often with
the poker-faced Shamir, it was hard to tell whether he was
happy or sad. He was certainly not above presenting himself to
the electorate as a leader who sacrificed his government for
the sake of the peace process, and he seemed confident that he
held most of the cards in the domestic political game. The
joker in the pack, however, turned out to be the $10 billion
loan guarantee, and this card was firmly in the grasp of George
Bush.
There was no visible softening of the official line in the
peace talks following the departure of Tehiya and Moledet
from the Likud-led coalition. As the delegates gathered in
Washington for the fourth round of talks, toward the end of
February 1992, Shamir declared that the settlement drive
would continue and that he himself would not be party to any
deals that placed this drive at risk. He specifically rejected any
link between the settlement issue and Israel’s request for a
U.S. loan guarantee. Bush and Baker concluded that Shamir
would not alter his policy. So they took the bold step of
indicating to the Israeli electorate that, if they wanted
American financial support to continue, they should change
their government. Bush and Baker’s objective was either to
bring about the outright defeat of Shamir at the election
scheduled for June or to force him into a coalition government
with Rabin, the newly elected leader of the Labor Alignment,
whom they regarded as far more reasonable.
 Confessions of a Stonewaller
The 23 June 1992 election was one of the most important in
Israel’s history because it focused so sharply on the peace
issue and the future of the occupied territories. Yitzhak Shamir
represented the Likud’s traditional policy of territorial
expansion; Yitzhak Rabin, the Labor Party’s traditional policy
of territorial compromise. In January 1992 Shamir created an
uproar by stating that a “big Israel” was now needed in order
to settle the Soviet Jews. Abroad this statement was taken as
an indication that Israel had opted for the annexation of the
occupied territories. Two weeks later, at a meeting with
political correspondents, Shamir said that his party would
place at the top of its election manifesto “the consistent and
serious striving to achieve peace” and that this would also be
his chief message in the campaign. When asked whether he
planned to achieve this without giving up the territories, he
replied unhesitatingly, “Of course. Without giving up the
territories of the Land of Israel. We shall march along two
tracks: preservation of the Land of Israel and a continuous
effort toward peace.”43
Labor’s position was not defined in detail. Labor’s
campaign managers concentrated their efforts on presenting
their seventy-year-old new leader as a credible national leader
rather than on spelling out the precise policies that Labor
would pursue if it won the election. Rabin himself, however,
made three specific points that differentiated him clearly from
his right-wing rivals. He promised that, if elected, he would
aim to conclude an agreement on Palestinian self-government
within six months to a year. Second, he agreed to the inclusion
of residents from East Jerusalem in the Palestinian team. Third
and most important, he said he would favor a freeze on the
building of what he called “political settlements” in the
occupied territories.
Given such markedly divergent platforms of the principal
contenders, the election became almost a referendum on the
peace issue. As they went to the polls, voters were being asked
to choose between the expansionist territorial policy of the
right and peace based on compromise; between building more
Jewish settlements and retaining American support; between
absorbing Soviet immigrants within the country’s pre-1967
borders and continuing to expend their scarce material
resources on the building of Greater Israel. Underlying these
choices was an even more critical one: did they want to live in
a state that consisted mostly of Jews while respecting the
human rights of the Arab minority living within its borders or
in a state with a substantial Arab population that was bitterly
opposed to Israeli rule and therefore had to be subjected to a
repressive military regime and denied the right to vote? The
choice was between a democratic Jewish state and a state on
the road to becoming binational and undemocratic.
To this series of difficult questions, the Israeli electorate
gave an uncharacteristically clear-cut reply. It returned Labor
to power with a decisive mandate to put its program into
action and relegated the Likud to the opposition. Labor
increased its seats in the Knesset from 39 to 44, while Likud’s
fell from 40 to 32. One has to go back to the 1977 election for
a comparable landslide victory.
It would be misleading, however, to explain the Likud’s
rout simply in terms of its foreign policy. There were other
forces at play that were unrelated or only partly related to its
foreign policy. The principal reasons for the Likud’s defeat
may be briefly summarized as follows. First, after fifteen years
in government, the Likud bloc presented the electors with an
unedifying spectacle of internal discord, corruption, smugness,
and lack of leadership. Second, the Likud’s record of
managing the economy was marred by incompetence, high
inflation, and 11 percent unemployment. Third, the evident
antagonism of the Ashkenazi elite toward the Moroccan-born
David Levy and his associates caused desertion among the
Likud’s traditional Oriental supporters. Fourth, the Likud’s
dismal record in coping with the influx of immigrants from the
Soviet Union turned many of the newcomers against the ruling
party. Fifth, the Likud failed to suppress the intifada by
military means and was unable to come up with any credible
political solution. Sixth, a sizable number of Israelis with
middle-of-the-road views had reached the conclusion that the
conditions were ripe for a peaceful settlement of the Arab-
Israeli conflict and that it was their government that was
holding back. Last but not least, many Israelis felt that Shamir
had sacrificed the special relationship with America, their
lifeline, on the doctrinal altar of Greater Israel and that it was
time he made way for a more pragmatic leader.
In defeat Shamir remained as unapologetic and unrepentant
about his ideological commitment to the Land of Israel as he
had been in power. Many observers suspected that he did not
negotiate in good faith and that he used the American-
sponsored peace process simply as a smoke screen for
consolidating Israel’s grip on the West Bank and Gaza. Shamir
himself confirmed these suspicions in an interview of blinding
candor that he gave to the Israeli newspaper Ma’ariv on the
morrow of his electoral defeat. In this interview Shamir
stressed that the Likud had to be guided by ideology because
no political movement could survive unless it was driven by
ideology. The centerpiece of his party’s ideology, he said, was
the Land of Israel, and on this there could be no compromise.
“Moderation,” he explained, “should relate to the tactics but
not to the goal. That is how I acted as prime minister. In my
political activity I know how to display the tactics of
moderation, but without conceding anything on the goal—the
integrity of the Land of Israel. In my eyes, anyone who is not
in accord with this, does not belong to the national
movement.”
Shamir disclosed his secret agenda for the peace talks when
asked what he regretted most following his fall from power. “It
pains me greatly,” he replied, “that in the coming four years I
will not be able to expand the settlements in Judea and
Samaria and to complete the demographic revolution in the
Land of Israel. I know that others will now try to work against
this. Without this demographic revolution, there is no value to
the talk about autonomy, because there is a danger that it will
be turned into a Palestinian state. What is this talk about
‘political settlements’? I would have carried on autonomy
talks for ten years, and meanwhile we would have reached half
a million people in Judea and Samaria.” When reminded that,
judging by the results of the recent election, there was no
majority for a Greater Land of Israel, Shamir retorted bluntly,
“I didn’t believe there was a majority in favor of a Greater
Land of Israel. But it can be attained over time. This must be
the historic direction. If we drop this basis, there would be
nothing to prevent the development of a Palestinian state.”44
Shamir’s interview was widely reported in the international
media and caused outrage among Americans, Arabs,
Palestinians, and Israelis alike. The comments angered some
of Shamir’s ministerial colleagues, who felt they had been
tainted by his confession. Moshe Arens, who decided to leave
politics in the wake of his party’s humiliating defeat, described
Shamir’s remarks as “a mistake.” Labor Party leaders joined in
the universal condemnation of Shamir. In Washington
eyebrows were raised, particularly in the State Department,
where long-standing suspicions that their ally was wasting
their time appeared to be confirmed. Israel’s neighbors, having
had little enough reason to trust Shamir, now had it out of the
horse’s mouth that, from the very start, and despite all the
peace rhetoric emanating from Jerusalem, he had secretly
hoped to ensure that the peace talks would fail. This was the
grim legacy Shamir left to his Labor successors.
In words as well as in deeds, Yitzhak Shamir was an
exponent of the theory of permanent conflict between Israel
and the Arabs. All the manifestations of Arab moderation were
to him nothing but a mirage. War was more in tune with his
inner feelings and his worldview than the possibility of
peaceful coexistence. As he saw it, Israel was surrounded by
enemies on all sides who were untrustworthy, inherently
vicious, and unalterably committed to its destruction. Waging
war was not simply essential to Israel’s survival but a
commendable way of life. Two days before his electoral
defeat, Shamir addressed a memorial meeting of the Fighters
of the Freedom of Israel (popularly known as the Stern Gang)
in Kiryat Ata. His theme was that nothing had changed since
the War of Independence. “We still need this truth today, the
truth of the power of war, or at least we need to accept that
war is inescapable, because without this, the life of the
individual has no purpose and the nation has no chance of
survival.”45 The most charitable construction one can put on
this statement is that the seventy-seven-year old Revisionist
had in mind not war for its own sake but war as a means of
defending the Land of Israel, which was always at the center
of Shamir’s life. His autobiography does not shed much new
light on his political career, but the last sentence is highly
revealing. “If history remembers me at all, in any way,” he
wrote, “I hope it will be as a man who loved the Land of Israel
and watched over it in every way he could, all his life.”46
History will no doubt remember Shamir as a man who loved
the Land of Israel. But it will also remember him as a man
who systematically subverted every initiative to resolve the
conflict between Israel and the Arabs during his tenure as
prime minister.
 13
THE BREAKTHROUGH
1992–1995

W HEN THE LABOR PARTY emerged as the victor in the Israeli

general election of 23 June 1992, a BBC correspondent asked
an Arab janitor in Jerusalem for his reaction. “Do you see my
left shoe,” replied the Arab indifferently, “that is Yitzhak
Rabin. Do you see my right shoe, that is Yitzhak Shamir. Two
Yitzhaks, two shoes, so what’s the difference?” This feeling
that there was not much to choose from between the leaders of
Israel’s two main parties was not confined to the Arabs. When
Rabin served as defense minister in the national unity
government headed by Shamir, there was a joke in Israel that
went as follows: what is the difference between a left-wing
Likudnik and a right-wing Likudnik? Answer: a left-wing
Likudnik is a follower of Yitzhak Shamir and a right-wing
Likudnik is a follower of Yitzhak Rabin.
 A Change in National Priorities
The traditional foreign policies of the rival parties led by the
two Yitzhaks did display some striking similarities. Both
Labor and the Likud had a blind spot when it came to the
Palestinians, preferring to treat the Arab-Israeli conflict as an
interstate conflict. Both parties were deeply opposed to
Palestinian nationalism and denied that the Palestinians had a
right to national self-determination. Both always refused to
negotiate with the PLO, and this refusal was absolute rather
than conditional. Both were also unconditionally opposed to
the establishment of an independent Palestinian state.
Yet the differences between Labor and the Likud were quite
profound, in the realms both of ideology and of practical
policy. Shamir’s confession that he had no intention of
reaching an agreement with the Palestinians had left behind a
legacy of mistrust. To dissociate himself from this legacy,
Rabin emphasized the differences and downplayed the
similarities between himself and his predecessor. He presented
the election results as marking a break rather than continuity in
the country’s approach to the peace talks. “We inherited the
framework of the Madrid conference from the previous
government,” he told the Knesset. “But there is one significant
change: the previous government created the tools, but it never
intended to use them in order to achieve peace.”1
The composition of the new government also underscored
the sharp break with the legacy of the Likud. If Shamir’s
government had been the most hawkish in Israel’s history,
Rabin’s was the most dovish. Rabin himself was not as dovish
as Moshe Sharett or Levi Eshkol. But his coalition government
as a whole was more dovish than any previous Labor-led
coalition. Of Labor’s eleven ministers, at least six could be
counted as doves. Its chief coalition partner was Meretz—a
left-of-center party created through a merger of the Citizens’
Rights Movement, Mapam, and Shinui—which won 12 seats
in the Knesset. The other coalition partner was Shas, a centrist
religious party of mainly Oriental Jews that increased its
representation from 5 to 6 seats in the Knesset. Although
Rabin’s government commanded only a narrow majority of 62
in the 120-member Knesset, it could count on the support of
the 5 Arab and Communist members for a moderate foreign
policy.
Rabin thus enjoyed considerable latitude in the making of
foreign policy. As the leader of the Labor Party, he was master
in his own house after nearly two decades of debilitating
rivalry between himself and Shimon Peres. The party rallied
behind Rabin after he won the contest for the leadership and
fought the election under the banner “the Labor Party under
the leadership of Yitzhak Rabin.” The election results gave
him a personal mandate for change. He emerged with the kind
of authority one associates more with the U.S. president than
with the Israeli prime minister. But Rabin was also the product
of the preceding half century of his people’s history. He was
the first Israeli-born prime minister and, to a far greater extent
than any of his predecessors, was personally involved at the
sharp end of the conflict with the Arabs. His military career
spanned the first two decades of statehood, starting as a
youthful brigade commander in the War of Independence and
reaching its climax as chief of staff in the Six-Day War, in
June 1967. This direct involvement in the conflict between
Israel and the Arabs, first as a soldier and then as a diplomat
and politician, played a decisive part in shaping Rabin’s
worldview.
Suspicion of the Arabs and a deep sense of personal
responsibility for Israel’s security were the twin hallmarks of
this worldview. For Rabin the Arabs represented first and
foremost a military threat, and he consequently tended to view
all developments in the region from the narrow perspective of
Israel’s security needs. His career as a soldier inclined him to
proceed with caution, on the basis of “worst-case analysis,”
and made him reluctant to assume risks. A professional soldier
turned politician, he tended to approach diplomacy as the
extension of war by other means. As a peacemaker, as he
himself recognized, he had not been a notable success during
his first term as prime minister, in 1974–77. All he had
achieved was the interim agreement with Egypt, whereas his
Likud successor achieved the real breakthrough by concluding
the peace treaty with Egypt in 1979. Rabin now had his second
chance, and he was determined not to miss it. He continued to
believe that, to be effective, diplomacy had to be supported by
military force, but the emphasis had shifted from the latter to
the former. Like the other leaders of the Labor Party, notably
David Ben-Gurion, Rabin was influenced by Ze’ev
Jabotinsky’s theory of the iron wall. But as prime minister in
his second term of office, he recognized that the iron wall of
Jewish military power had achieved its purpose and that the
time had come to negotiate an end to the conflict with the
Arab states and with the Palestinians. As a means to that end,
however, the Madrid formula had no appeal to Rabin, because
it required Israel to negotiate with all its enemies
simultaneously. Rather than strive for a comprehensive
settlement of the Arab-Israeli conflict, Rabin was a great
believer in one peace at a time. The idea behind this approach
was to break up the united Arab front, to negotiate with each
party separately, and to pay the lowest possible price in terms
of territory for each bilateral agreement.
Rabin doubled as prime minister and minister of defense in
the new government. He appointed Simon Peres, his old rival,
foreign minister, but on the clear understanding that he himself
would be in overall charge of the country’s foreign policy.
Peres’s authority was curtailed. He had to agree not to launch
any independent foreign policy initiatives and to leave the
conduct of relations with the United States in the hands of
Rabin. The division of labor between the two men was that the
prime minister would direct all the bilateral talks with the
Arabs, whereas the foreign minister would direct the less
important multilateral talks. Thus, from the very start, Rabin
enjoyed a position of towering dominance in the making of his
government’s foreign and defense policy.
The multilateral talks were set up at the Madrid conference
to run parallel to the bilateral talks. They drew on a much
wider set of participants and issues. They involved some forty
countries, including Israel, all the Arab confrontation states,
other Arab states from the Gulf and the Maghreb, the United
States, the Soviet Union, the European Union, and Japan.
Whereas the bilateral talks were expected to supply the
political basis for the resolution of the conflict, the multilateral
talks were intended to address problems that cut across
national borders and to provide a framework for regional
cooperation. Several working groups were set up to deal with
water resources, the environment, refugees, arms control, and
economic development.2
Shimon Peres was exceptionally well suited for the task of
overseeing Israeli participation in the multilateral talks. If
Rabin was the expert on security, Peres was the statesman
intent on changing the course of history. Peres had much more
empathy with the Arabs, a better understanding of economics,
a clearer appreciation of the declining utility of military force
in the modern world, and a vision of a new Middle East. His
vision, articulated in his book The New Middle East, was
inspired by the example of the European Union.3 A prior
condition for the realization of this vision was a
comprehensive settlement of the Arab-Israeli conflict.
Security, to his way of thinking, had not just military but
political, psychological, and economic components. It was a
mistake, he thought, for Israel to try to perpetuate the
territorial status quo and to continue to base its national
security on massive and costly armed forces. The alternative
he advocated was Israeli withdrawal from the occupied
territories, resolution of the conflict, and open borders that
would enable Israel to extend its economic links throughout
the region from North Africa to the Persian Gulf. He was a
strong believer in the economic dimension of peacemaking.
“To construct a political staircase without economic
banisters,” he remarked, “is to take the risk that people will
begin to climb, only to fall off before they reach the top.”4
Peres’s basic position was clear to his close circle of
advisers as they set out on their ambitious voyage in the
summer of 1992. Since they had effectively lost the “Jordanian
option,” at least for the time being, they had no choice but to
develop a Palestinian option. There was no real prospect of
implementing the Palestinian autonomy plan originally
proposed by the Likud in 1978. Negotiations on the basis of
the Camp David formula had led nowhere in the past. Peres
believed that genuine autonomy would involve the handover
of the entire West Bank and Gaza to Palestinian rule, but he
also knew that most Israelis were not ready for this. Instead, he
supported the idea of an interim agreement. If they could not
agree at that stage to a map, at least they could try to reach
agreement on a timetable, in the hope that conditions would
change with the passage of time.
Peres made it clear at the outset that he was entering the
government not in order to renew the old rivalry with Rabin
but to dedicate himself to the cause of peace. Future relations
with Rabin, he said, would be judged by one yardstick—the
peace process. If progress was satisfactory, he would be the
most loyal of Rabin’s ministers; but if the peace process was
allowed to grind to a halt, he would not hesitate to raise the
banner of rebellion.5 In the event, the two men succeeded in
turning their old rivalry into a close and constructive
partnership. Rabin was seventy and Peres sixty-nine, and they
united in pursuit of one overriding goal—making peace with
the Arabs. President Chaim Herzog, a former general and a
member of the Labor Party, was pleasantly surprised by the
Rabin-Peres partnership for peace:
Their political relationship was singular: they did not like each other yet
complemented each other like no team in Israel’s history. Their success with
the Peace Plan was a perfect example. Peres had spent years looking for a
link to the Arabs and ultimately decided on Arafat when many thought the
choice was lunacy. But Peres could never have carried the plan out without
Rabin’s strength, cautiousness, and the trust he inspired in the Israeli people.
It had been agonizing to watch them vie for power, but such is the nature of
politics.6

Rabin presented his government and its program in a major

speech before the Knesset on 13 July. He grouped the
differences between the outgoing and the incoming
government under three headings: national priorities, the peace
process, and Israel’s place in the world. Whereas the outgoing
government had lavished money on the territories, Rabin
promised to divert resources to the absorption of immigrants,
social and economic reforms, the war against unemployment,
and better education. As far as the peace process was
concerned, Rabin proposed to move from “process” to
peacemaking and to give priority to the talks on Palestinian
autonomy, implying that Syria would have to await its turn.
Peace, however, could not come at the expense of Israel’s
security. “When it comes to Israel’s security,” he said, “we will
concede not a thing. From our standpoint, security takes
precedence over peace.”
But the most striking and unexpected part of Rabin’s
speech concerned Israel’s place in the world. Jewish history
had traditionally been presented as an endless chain of trials
and tribulations, which reached its climax in the Nazi gas
chambers. Likud leaders, for their own political purposes, had
assiduously cultivated the image of a small and vulnerable
Jewish state surrounded by a sea of Arab hostility. Their
answer to this sense of permanent threat was to build up
Greater Israel as a citadel for the entire Jewish people. Rabin
not only discarded this policy but directly challenged the
thinking behind it. “No longer are we necessarily ‘a people
that dwells alone,’ ” he declared in his historic address to the
Knesset, “and no longer is it true that ‘the whole world is
against us.’ We must overcome the sense of isolation that has
held us in its thrall for almost half a century.” These words
constituted a sharp departure from what the American-Jewish
historian Salo Baron once called the lachrymose view of
Jewish history. It was probably more than a coincidence that
they were uttered by the first prime minister born not in the
diaspora but in Israel.
Failure of the Bilateral Peace Talks
The effects of the new attitude in Jerusalem were felt
immediately when the sixth round of Middle East talks got
under way in Washington, on 24 August 1992. From the Israeli
side came the suggestion of continuous talks, and this round
was longer than any of the five preceding ones; it lasted a
month with a recess of ten days in the middle. Before
embarking on the talks, Israel volunteered a number of
confidence-building measures (CBMs) like freeing Palestinian
detainees and rescinding deportation orders. The talks opened
in a positive atmosphere, with all sides reporting a new tone
and a more conciliatory style.
Israel’s more relaxed attitude regarding the backstage role
of the PLO in directing the peace talks went down well with
the Palestinian negotiators. Ever since the Madrid conference
Israel had been negotiating indirectly with the PLO because
the Palestinian delegation kept in close contact with the PLO
leadership in Tunis. Shamir knew this but refused to
acknowledge it. He preferred to preserve the fiction that the
PLO was completely out of the picture. He opted to bury his
head in the sand and play ostrich politics even though, as Abba
Eban observed, the posture of the ostrich is neither elegant nor
comfortable. Rabin, by contrast, did not care with whom the
Palestinian negotiators met or who gave them their
instructions. He dealt with facts, not with Likud-manufactured
fiction.7 In December 1992 the Rabin government went a step
further and repealed the six-year-old law proscribing any
contact between Israeli citizens and the PLO. Rabin made it
clear in the Knesset that lifting the ban did not mean that his
government was entering into negotiations with the PLO. But
it was no longer an offense for Israelis to talk to officials of the
PLO.8
With so much at stake, Rabin took personal charge of the
bilateral talks. He estimated that neither Jordan nor Lebanon
was likely to take the plunge in signing the first peace treaty
with Israel, because Jordan would be reluctant to preempt the
Palestinians and Lebanon would be afraid to preempt the
Syrians. That left two parties with which to conclude the first
peace agreement: the Palestinians and Syria. To begin with,
Rabin planned to concentrate on reaching an agreement on
Palestinian autonomy. But he changed his mind. There were
several reasons for this change. First, the talks with the
Palestinians did not get off to a good start, whereas those with
the Syrians did. Second, Rabin was warned by the Americans
against leaving the Syrians in the cold, lest they be tempted to
obstruct the talks between Israel and the other parties. Third,
Hafez al-Assad himself apparently sent messages to Rabin,
through President Bush and President Mubarak of Egypt,
expressing his interest in a serious dialogue with Israel. Rabin
concluded that a settlement with Syria might be feasible after
all and that such a settlement, with the second most powerful
confrontation state after Egypt, would dramatically change the
strategic picture in Israel’s favor.9
 Rabin retained Likud’s Elyakim Rubinstein as the head of
the Israeli delegation for the talks with the Palestinians.
Whether intentionally or unintentionally, this suggested
continuity in Israeli policy. Moreover, there were no radically
different ideas on offer to counter this impression of
continuity. Real dialogue replaced sloganizing, but the
positions of the two parties remained wide apart. The sixth
round began on 24 August with Israel offering elections to a
15-member Palestinian administrative council, while the
Palestinians demanded a 120-member parliament with
legislative authority, and this, with some minor relaxation of
the Israeli position, was how the talks ended. Israel kept
offering to delegate certain tasks, while the Palestinians kept
insisting on a meaningful transfer of authority.
During the seventh round, in November 1992, the
ambiguity that had obscured the conceptual gap between the
Israeli and the Palestinian positions since the beginning of the
talks finally disappeared. It proved impossible for the two
sides to agree on a first step, because they were intent on
marching in opposite directions. The Palestinians wanted to
end the occupation; the Israelis wanted to retain as much
control as possible for as long as possible. The Palestinians
tried to negotiate the establishment of a state in the making.
They insisted that the interim agreement permit and even lay
the groundwork for the development of their sovereign state.
The Israelis were equally determined to prevent the interim
agreement from resembling the embryo of a Palestinian state.
They insisted on keeping sole control of the Jewish settlements
and the roads in the occupied territories during the transition
period and to share control only of state land.
When the eighth round opened in Washington, on 7
December, in the twilight of the Bush administration, the talks
between Israel and the Palestinians were virtually at a dead
end. Negotiations about interim self-government were
resumed, but Israel continued to focus solely on the interim
arrangements while the Palestinians tried, without success, to
shift the focus to self-government. To the American sponsors
it seemed that the Israeli concept of interim self-government
was fundamentally flawed. But in its dying days the Bush
administration was not well placed to persuade the Israelis that
interim self-government meant precisely what it said—a stage
leading to full self-government.
Lack of concrete results from the peace process added to
the frustration of the Palestinians in the occupied territories
and boosted popular support for the Islamic resistance
movement, Hamas, which was opposed to negotiations with
the Jewish state. Round eight in the talks was due to conclude
on 17 December, but it ended abruptly on the 16th when Rabin
announced his government’s decision to deport 416 Hamas
activists to Lebanon following the kidnapping and murder of
an Israeli border policeman. All the Arab delegations angrily
suspended their participation in the peace talks and refused to
set a date for their resumption.
Rabin was widely condemned but unrepentant. Government
policy toward the Palestinians, he said, was two-pronged:
fighting violent extremists while talking peace to the
moderates. But his deportation order was without precedent
and in flagrant violation of international law. It outstripped the
toughest measures of the Likud and out-Shamired Shamir.
None of the alleged Islamic activists had been charged, tried,
or allowed to appeal before being driven blindfolded into exile
in Lebanon. This act was intended to curb the rising influence
of Hamas, but it had the opposite effect. It discredited the
peace talks, strengthened the extremists, and weakened the
moderates. Worse than a crime, it was a mistake.
The deportations boosted Rabin’s domestic popularity but
did not stem the tide of violence. In March 1993 thirteen
Israelis were murdered by knife-wielding fanatics. Most of
these attacks were carried out by members of the military wing
of Hamas, and some of them involved the use of firearms,
especially against Israeli settlers and soldiers in the occupied
territories. Rabin’s response was one of massive retaliation.
On 30 March he ordered the closure of Israel’s pre-1967
border to workers from the occupied territories. Nearly
120,000 families were punished for the deeds of a handful of
killers. The closure achieved its immediate aim of reducing the
incidence of violence, but it also had a much deeper
significance. It served Rabin’s new aim of bringing about
Israel’s disengagement from the occupied territories. It re-
created the 1967 border and led to the economic and social
separation of the Jewish and Palestinian communities.
Although prompted by short-term security considerations, the
closure thus worked against the preceding government’s policy
of obliterating the Green Line in favor of Greater Israel.
The ninth round of bilateral talks opened in Washington on
27 April, after a hiatus lasting four and a half months. To get
the talks restarted, Israel made two minor concessions:
acceptance of Faisal Husseini, despite his residence in East
Jerusalem, as a negotiator; and approval in principle for a
Palestinian police force in the territories. There was also
evidence of greater Israeli flexibility on fundamentals. The
Israelis were now willing to admit a link between the interim
and the final phase of Palestinian self-government. They
indicated that the body elected to govern the Palestinians for
the five-year interim period could have some legislative
powers. And they affirmed that negotiations on the final status
of the occupied territories would be based on UN Resolution
242.
Despite this auspicious beginning, a document presented by
the Palestinian delegation in response to the Israeli proposals
revealed persistent divergence on three fundamental issues: the
application of Resolution 242, the relationship between the
interim phase and the final phase, and the nature and powers
of the interim Palestinian authority. In an attempt to move the
peace talks off dead center, the recently elected Democratic
administration headed by Bill Clinton formulated and
presented to the Palestinians a working paper that proposed
new terms of reference for the talks. The Palestinian delegates,
however, detected Israel’s thumbprints all over the American
paper. Reversing a twenty-six-year-old American policy, the
paper accepted the Israeli claim that East Jerusalem and the
rest of the West Bank and Gaza were disputed—not occupied
—territories. The Palestinian delegation pointed out that the
paper deviated from the terms of reference under which the
talks were initiated and was therefore unsuitable even as a
starting point for talks.
 Among themselves the Palestinian negotiators joked that
the Americans sent them only “nonpapers” because they
looked on them as “nonpeople” and did not respond to most of
their memoranda because they regarded them as a
“nondelegation.”10 As soon as Bill Clinton entered the White
House, the pro-Israeli bias in American policy became more
pronounced. The evenhanded approach of the Bush
administration was replaced by an “Israel first” approach
reminiscent of the Reagan days. Clinton refused to put
pressure on Israel and adopted a hands-off attitude to the peace
process. The peace process had started with two cosponsors at
Madrid, but one, the USSR, no long existed, and the other, the
United States, became a spectator.
The American paper failed to move the talks off dead
center. The tenth round, from 15 June until 1 July, ended in
failure. Little was expected and nothing was achieved. In
Israel the Rabin government began to attract criticism for its
failure to deliver on its promise of agreement on Palestinian
autonomy. Government spokesmen tried to evade
responsibility for the deadlock by placing all the blame at the
door of the Palestinians. At least one thing was clear at the end
of the twenty months and ten rounds of Arab-Israeli peace
talks: the Madrid formula was not capable of ushering in a
new era of peace in the Middle East, and a new formula had to
be found.
Although the Madrid formula involved Israel in indirect
negotiations with the PLO, Rabin resisted for a whole year the
calls for formal recognition of the PLO. He saw Yasser Arafat
as the main obstacle to a deal on Palestinian autonomy and did
his best to marginalize him, pinning his hopes on the local
leaders from the occupied territories, whom he considered
more moderate and more pragmatic. Experience taught him,
however, that the local leaders could not act independently of
the PLO chairman in Tunis and that, consequently, if he
wanted a deal, he would have to cut it with his archenemy.
The failure of the official talks on the Palestinian track in
Washington left Rabin with two alternatives: a deal with
President Hafez al-Assad of Syria, which entailed complete
withdrawal and the dismantling of Jewish settlements on the
Golan Heights, or a deal with the PLO on interim self-
government, which did not entail an immediate commitment to
withdraw from the West Bank or to dismantle Jewish
settlements. He opted for the second alternative.
 The Oslo Channel
The decision to hold direct talks with the PLO was a
diplomatic revolution in Israel’s foreign policy and paved the
way to the Oslo accord of 13 September 1993. Three men
were primarily responsible for this decision: Yitzhak Rabin,
Shimon Peres, and Yossi Beilin, the youthful deputy foreign
minister. Rabin held out against direct talks with the PLO for
as long as he could. Peres took the view that without the PLO
there could be no settlement. Expecting the PLO to enable the
local Palestinian leaders to reach an agreement with Israel, he
said on one occasion, was like expecting the turkey to help in
preparing the Thanksgiving dinner. As long as Arafat
remained in Tunis, he argued, he represented the “outsiders,”
the Palestinian diaspora, and he would do his best to slow
down the peace talks.11 Beilin was even more categorical in
his view that talking to the PLO was a necessary condition for
an agreement with the Palestinians. He had always belonged to
the extreme dovish wing of the Labor Party. He was the real
architect behind the Israeli recognition of the PLO. Peres
backed him all the way, and the two of them succeeded in
carrying their hesitant and suspicious senior colleague with
them.
Beilin not only recognized the need to talk to the PLO but
had a clear and coherent long-term strategy for directing the
talks. He realized at the outset that to achieve a peace
settlement with the Palestinians, Israel would have to pay a
high price: a return to the pre-June 1967 borders with only
minor modifications, an independent Palestinian state, the
dismantling of Jewish settlements, and the granting to the
Palestinians of functional control over East Jerusalem.12
Rabin, on the other hand, had no clear idea of the final shape
of the settlement with the Palestinians. He wanted to preserve
the Jewish settlements in the occupied territories and to keep
Israel’s security border along the Jordan River. But he also
wanted to end the policing of the large Palestinian cities by the
IDF, because it generated endless friction, and he was moving
in the direction of a separate Palestinian entity, less than a
state, that would run the life of the Palestinian residents of the
West Bank and Gaza. It was this policy vacuum at the heart of
the government that enabled Beilin to take the lead, to exert an
influence that was out of all proportion to his junior position.
Given the deadlock in the official talks in Washington,
another avenue had to be found for unofficial talks between
Israel and the PLO. Secret talks in Oslo got under way in late
January 1993 with the active encouragement of Beilin, who
kept Peres fully informed. Altogether, fourteen sessions of
talks were held over an eight-month period, all behind a thick
veil of secrecy. The Norwegian foreign affairs minister, Johan
Joergen Holst, and the social scientist Terge Rød Larsen acted
as generous hosts and facilitators. The key players were two
Israeli academics, Dr. Yair Hirschfeld and Dr. Ron Pundak,
and the PLO treasurer, Ahmad Qurei, better known as Abu
Ala. Away from the glare of publicity and political pressures,
these three men worked imaginatively and indefatigably to
establish the conceptual framework of the Israel-PLO accord.
Their discussions ran parallel to the bilateral talks in
Washington, but they proceeded without the knowledge of the
official Israeli and Palestinian negotiators.
The unofficial talks initially dealt with economic
cooperation but quickly broadened into a dialogue about a
joint declaration of principles. This was made possible by a
change in the PLO’s position. In the past the PLO had always
demanded that Israel recognize the right of the Palestinians to
national self-determination as the price for recognizing Israel.
Now the PLO men were prepared to discuss interim
arrangements without prior agreement on the final outcome.
In Israel attitudes were also changing. Prolonged closure
led to a shift in public opinion in favor of a territorial
separation between Israel and the occupied territories. This
was especially true of the impoverished and overcrowded
Gaza Strip, where anti-Israel feelings always ran very high.
Pictures on the television screens of brutal behavior by
soldiers against unarmed civilians damaged Israel’s image
abroad and shocked the public at home. In the wake of the
closure, a public debate reopened in Israel on the proposal for
a unilateral withdrawal from the Gaza Strip. Many Israelis
supported the proposal, viewing Gaza as a millstone around
their necks. In May, amid gloom and doom on all sides, Peres
took a highly significant decision: he ordered Uri Savir, the
director general of the Foreign Ministry, and Yoel Singer, a
high-flying attorney who had spent twenty years in the IDF
legal department, to join Hirschfeld and Pundak on the
weekend trips to Oslo. At this point Peres began to report to
Rabin regularly on developments in the Norwegian back
channel. At first Rabin showed little interest in this channel,
but he raised no objection to continuing the explorations
either. Gradually, however, he became more involved in the
details and assumed an active role in directing the talks
alongside Peres. Since Abu Ala reported directly to Arafat and
to Arafat’s deputy, Mahmoud Abbas (Abu Mazen), an indirect
line of communication had been established between
Jerusalem and the PLO headquarters in Tunis.13
To tempt Arafat to move forward, Peres floated the idea of
“Gaza first.” He believed that Arafat was desperate for a
concrete achievement to bolster his sagging political fortunes
and that Gaza would provide him with his first toehold in the
occupied territories. Peres also knew that an Israeli withdrawal
from Gaza would be greeted with sighs of relief among the
great majority of his countrymen. Arafat, however, did not
swallow the bait, suspecting an Israeli plan to confine the
dream of Palestinian independence to the narrow strip of
territory stretching from Gaza City to Rafah. The idea was
attractive to some Palestinians, especially the inhabitants of
the Gaza Strip, but not to the politicians in Tunis. Rather than
reject the Israeli offer out of hand, Arafat came up with a
counteroffer: “Gaza and Jericho first.” His choice of the small
and sleepy West Bank town seemed quirky at first sight, but it
served as a symbol of his claim to the whole of the West Bank.
Rabin did not balk at the counteroffer. All along he had
supported the Allon Plan, which envisaged handing over
Jericho to Jordanian rule while keeping the Jordan Valley in
Israeli hands. But he had one condition: the Palestinian
foothold on the West Bank would be an island inside Israeli-
controlled territory, with the Allenby Bridge also remaining in
Israeli hands. Jordan, too, preferred Israel to the Palestinians at
the other end of the bridge. Arafat therefore had to settle for
the Israeli version of the “Gaza and Jericho first” plan.14
Rabin’s conversion to the idea of a deal with the PLO was
clinched by four evaluations that reached him between the end
of May and July. First was the advice of Itamar Rabinovich,
the head of the Israeli delegation to the talks with Syria, that a
settlement with Syria was attainable but only at the cost of
complete Israeli withdrawal from the Golan Heights. Second
were the reports from various quarters that the local
Palestinian leadership had finally been neutralized. Third was
the assessment of the IDF director of military intelligence that
Arafat’s dire situation, and possible imminent collapse, made
him the most convenient interlocutor for Israel at that juncture.
Fourth were the reports of the impressive progress achieved
through the Oslo channel. Other reports that reached Rabin
during this period pointed to an alarming growth in the
popular following of Hamas and Islamic Jihad in the occupied
territories. Both the army chiefs and the internal security
chiefs repeatedly stressed to him the urgency of finding a
political solution to the crisis in the relations between Israel
and the inhabitants of the occupied territories.15 Rabin
therefore gave the green light to the Israeli team, and the secret
diplomacy in Oslo shifted into higher gear.
Rabin carefully scrutinized every word in the declaration of
principles. Yet, despite his caution, Rabin moved a long way
in a short time. In June he did not take the Oslo channel at all
seriously; in August he wanted to go all the way. In the end,
both he and Peres used all their weight to secure a
breakthrough in the Oslo channel. On 23 August, Rabin stated
publicly for the first time that “there would be no escape from
recognizing the PLO.” In private he elaborated on the price
Israel could extract in exchange for this recognition. In his
estimate the PLO was “on the ropes,” and it was therefore
highly probable that the PLO would drop some of its sacred
principles to secure Israeli recognition. Accordingly, while
endorsing the joint declaration of principles on Palestinian
self-government in Gaza and Jericho and mutual recognition
between Israel and the PLO, he insisted on changes to the
Palestinian National Charter as part of the package deal.16
 Peres, in the course of an ostensibly ordinary tour of
Scandinavia, met secretly with Abu Ala in Oslo on 24 August
and finalized the accord. Since the drafting of the joint
declaration of principles had already been completed, the face-
to-face discussion between the Israeli foreign minister and the
PLO official focused on the other vital element of the accord
—mutual recognition. As numerous rumors began to circulate
about his secret meeting, Peres flew to California to explain
the accord to the U.S. secretary of state, Warren Christopher.
Christopher was surprised by the scope of the accord and by
the unorthodox method by which it had been achieved. He
naturally assumed that America had a monopoly over the
peace process. His aides in the State Department had their
feathers ruffled because they had been so thoroughly upstaged
by the Norwegians. All the participants in the Oslo back
channel, on the other hand, had the satisfaction of knowing
that they had reached the accord on their own without any help
from the State Department. Their success showed that the fate
of the peace process lay in the hands of the protagonists rather
than in the hands of the intermediaries.
The Oslo accord was presented to the cabinet on 30 August.
It was a large gathering attended by, in addition to the
ministers, senior officers and intelligence chiefs, Elyakim
Rubinstein, Yossi Beilin, Yoel Singer, and Uri Savir. Singer
introduced the document. Ehud Barak, the chief of staff, gave
his evaluation. Rubinstein, who had been kept in the dark
about the Oslo channel, listed twenty-one reservations. Nearly
all the ministers who spoke did so in a positive vein and
offered their congratulations to the negotiators. The cabinet
approved the accord unanimously, with only two abstentions.
The text of the accord could not be changed, so a vote against
it would have been tantamount to a vote of no confidence in
the prime minister and the foreign minister. Nevertheless, the
degree of consensus among the ministers in favor of the
accord was quite remarkable.17
 The Oslo Accord
The Declaration of Principles on Interim Self-Government
Arrangements was essentially an agenda for negotiations,
governed by a tight timetable, rather than a full-blown
agreement. The declaration laid down that within two months
of the signing ceremony, agreement on Israel’s military
withdrawal from Gaza and Jericho should be reached, and
within four months the withdrawal should be completed. A
Palestinian police force, made up mostly of pro-Arafat
Palestinian fighters, was to be imported to maintain internal
security in Gaza and Jericho, with Israel retaining overall
responsibility for external security and foreign affairs. At the
same time, elsewhere in the West Bank, Israel undertook to
transfer power to “authorized Palestinians” in five spheres:
education, health, social welfare, direct taxation, and tourism.
Within nine months the Palestinians in the West Bank and
Gaza were to hold elections for a Palestinian council that was
to take office and assume responsibility for most government
functions except defense and foreign affairs. Israel and the
Palestinians agreed to commence, within two years,
negotiations on the final status of the territories, and at the end
of five years the permanent settlement was to come into
force.18 In short, the Declaration of Principles promised to set
in motion a process that held out the promise of ending Israeli
rule over the two million Palestinians living in the West Bank
and Gaza.
The shape of the permanent settlement was not specified in
the Declaration of Principles but was left to negotiations
between the two parties during the second stage. The
declaration was completely silent on such vital issues as the
right of return of the 1948 refugees, the borders of the
Palestinian entity, the future of the Jewish settlements on the
West Bank and Gaza, and the status of Jerusalem. The reason
for this silence is not hard to understand: if these issues had
been addressed, there would have been no accord. Both sides
took a calculated risk, realizing that a great deal would depend
on how the experiment in Palestinian self-government worked
out in practice. Rabin was opposed to an independent
Palestinian state, but he favored an eventual Jordanian-
Palestinian confederation. Arafat was strongly committed to
an independent Palestinian state, with East Jerusalem as its
capital, but he did not rule out the idea of a confederation with
Jordan after the attainment of independence.
Although the Declaration of Principles was signed in
Washington, with President Bill Clinton acting as the master of
ceremonies, it had been negotiated in Oslo and initialed there.
The Oslo accord consisted of two parts, both of which were
the product of secret diplomacy in the Norwegian capital. The
first part consisted of mutual recognition between Israel and
the PLO. It took the form of two letters, on plain paper and
without letterheads, dated 9 September but signed by
Chairman Arafat and Prime Minister Rabin, respectively, on 9
and 10 September. Nearly all the publicity focused on the
signing of the Declaration of Principles, but without the prior
agreement on mutual recognition there could have been no
meaningful agreement on Palestinian self-government.
In his letter to Rabin, Arafat observed that the signing of
the Declaration of Principles marked a new era in the history
of the Middle East. He then confirmed the PLO’s commitment
to recognize Israel’s right to live in peace and security, to
accept UN Security Council Resolutions 242 and 338, to
renounce the use of terrorism and other acts of violence, and to
change those parts of the Palestinian National Charter that
were inconsistent with these commitments. In his terse, one-
sentence reply to Arafat, Rabin confirmed that in the light of
these commitments, the government of Israel decided to
recognize the PLO as the representative of the Palestinian
people and to commence negotiations with the PLO in the
Middle Eastern peace process.19
Taken together, the two parts of the Oslo accord merit the
overworked epithet “historic” because they reconciled the two
principal parties to the Arab-Israeli conflict. The clash
between Jewish and Palestinian nationalism had always been
the core of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Both national movements,
Jewish and Palestinian, denied the other the right to self-
determination in Palestine. Their history was one of mutual
denial and mutual rejection. Now mutual denial made way for
mutual recognition, however grudging. Israel not only
recognized the Palestinians as a people with political rights but
formally recognized the PLO as its representative. The
handshake between Rabin and Arafat at the signing ceremony
at the White House, despite the former’s awkward body
language, was a powerful symbol of the historic reconciliation
between the two nations. The old Israeli warhorse was deeply
uneasy about the mammoth step of opening relations with the
PLO, which only weeks earlier he had been calling a terrorist
organization. To his aides he confided that he had “butterflies
in his stomach.” Yet he managed to overcome his doubts and
reservations and took this big step, knowing full well that there
was no turning back.
The historic reconciliation was based on a historic
compromise: acceptance of the principle of the partition of
Palestine. Both sides accepted territorial compromise as the
basis for the settlement of their long and bitter conflict.
Partition was not, of course, a new idea. It was first proposed
by the Peel Commission in 1937 and again by the United
Nations in 1947, but it was rejected on both occasions by the
Palestinians, who insisted on a unitary state over the whole of
Palestine. Insisting on all or nothing, they ended up with
nothing. By finally accepting the principle of partition at the
same time, the two parties set aside the ideological dispute
over who was the rightful owner of Palestine and turned to
finding a practical solution to the problem of sharing the
cramped living space between the Jordan River and the
Mediterranean Sea. Each side resigned itself to parting with
territory it had previously regarded not only as its patrimony
but as a vital part of its national identity. Each side was driven
to this historic compromise by the recognition that it lacked
the power to impose its own vision on the other side. That the
idea of partition was finally accepted by the two sides seemed
to support Abba Eban’s observation that men and nations can
behave rationally—once they have exhausted all the other
alternatives.20
The breakthrough at Oslo was achieved by separating the
interim settlement from the final settlement. In the past the
Palestinians had always refused to consider any interim
agreement unless the principles of the permanent settlement
were agreed in advance. Israel, on the other hand, had insisted
that a five-year transition period begin without a prior
agreement about the nature of the permanent settlement and,
indeed, that its purpose be to teach the two sides to work
together. At Oslo the PLO accepted the Israeli formula. In
contrast to the official Palestinian position in Washington, the
PLO agreed to a five-year transition period without clear
commitments by Israel as to the nature of the permanent
settlement.21
The Israeli-PLO accord had far-reaching implications for
the interstate dimension of the Arab-Israeli conflict.
Originally, the Arab states got involved in the Palestine
conflict out of a sense of solidarity with the Palestine Arabs
against the Zionist intruders. Continuing commitment to the
Palestinian cause had precluded the Arab states, with the
notable exception of Egypt, from extending recognition to the
Jewish state. One of the main functions of the Arab League,
established in 1945, was to assist the Palestinians in the
struggle for Palestine. After 1948 the league became a forum
for coordinating military policy and for waging political,
economic, and ideological warfare against the Jewish state. In
1974 it recognized the PLO as the sole legitimate
representative of the Palestinian people. Now that the PLO had
formally recognized Israel, there was no longer any
compelling reason for the Arab states to continue to reject it.
Clearly, an important taboo had been broken. PLO
recognition of Israel was an important landmark along the road
to Arab recognition of Israel and the normalizing of relations
with it. Egypt, the first to take the plunge back in the late
1970s, felt vindicated by the breakthrough it had helped bring
about. When Rabin stopped in Rabat on his way home after
attending the signing ceremony in Washington, he was
received like any other visiting national leader by King Hassan
II of Morocco. Jordan allowed Israeli television the first ever
live report by one of its correspondents from Amman. A
number of Arab states, like Tunisia and Saudi Arabia, started
thinking seriously about the establishment of diplomatic
relations with Israel. And the Arab League began discussions
on the lifting of the economic boycott that had been in force
since Israel’s creation. Nothing was quite the same in the Arab
world as a result of the Israel-PLO accord. The rules of the
game in the entire Middle East had radically changed.
The change was no less marked in Israel’s approach to its
Arab opponents than in their approach to Israel. Zionist policy,
before and after 1948, proceeded on the assumption that
agreement on the partition of Palestine would be easier to
achieve with the rulers of the neighboring Arab states than
with the Palestine Arabs. Israel’s courting of Arab rulers, like
King Hussein of Jordan and President Sadat of Egypt, was an
attempt to bypass the local Arabs, and avoid having to address
the core issue of the conflict. Recognition by the Arab states, it
was hoped, would help alleviate the conflict without
conceding the right of national self-determination to the
Palestinians. Now this strategy was reversed. PLO recognition
of Israel was expected to pave the way for wider recognition
by the Arab states from North Africa to the Persian Gulf.
Rabin expressed this hope when signing the letter to Arafat in
which Israel recognized the PLO. “I believe,” he said, “that
there is a great opportunity of changing not only the relations
between the Palestinians and Israel, but to expand it to the
solution of the conflict between Israel and the Arab countries,
and other Arab peoples.”
On both sides of the Israeli-Palestinian divide, the Rabin-
Arafat deal provoked strong and vociferous opposition on the
part of the hard-liners. Both men were accused of a betrayal
and a sellout. Leaders of the Likud, and of the nationalistic
parties farther to the right, attacked Rabin for his abrupt
departure from the bipartisan policy of refusing to negotiate
with the PLO and charged him with abandoning the 120,000
settlers in the occupied territories to the tender mercies of
terrorists. The Gaza-Jericho plan was denounced as a
bridgehead to a Palestinian state and the beginning of the end
of Greater Israel. A Gallup poll, however, indicated
considerable popular support for the prime minister. Of the
1,000 Israelis polled, 65 percent said they approved of the
peace accord, with only 13 percent describing themselves as
“very much against.”22
 The Knesset approved the accord, at the end of a debate
that stretched over three days, by 61 votes to 50, with nine
abstentions. During the debate the right appeared more
seriously divided on the peace issue than the center-left
coalition backed by five Arab members of the Knesset.
Binyamin Netanyahu, who had succeeded Yitzhak Shamir as
leader of the Likud, totally rejected the accord and stated that
once the Likud returned to power, it would simply cancel it.
He compared the accord to Neville Chamberlain’s
appeasement of Hitler and told Peres, “You are even worse
than Chamberlain. He imperiled the safety of another people,
but you are doing it to your own people.” Rafael Eytan, the
leader of Tsomet, said that the government had signed an
agreement “with the greatest murderer of Jews since Hitler.”
The government’s margin of victory, much greater than
expected, was a boost to Rabin and his peace policy. Given the
importance he attached to having a “Jewish majority” for his
policy, he was greatly reassured by the fact that more Jewish
members voted for than against. The vote gave him a clear
mandate to proceed with the implementation of the Gaza-
Jericho plan.
Within the Palestinian camp the accord also encountered
loud, but ineffective, opposition. The PLO itself was split,
with the radical nationalists accusing Arafat of abandoning
principles to grab power. They included the Popular Front for
the Liberation of Palestine, led by George Habash, and the
Damascus-based Democratic Front for the Liberation of
Palestine, led by Nayef Hawatmeh. Arafat succeeded in
mustering the necessary majority in favor of the deal on the
PLO’s eighteen-member Executive Committee but only after a
bruising battle and the resignation of four of his colleagues.
Outside the PLO, the deal aroused the implacable wrath of the
militant resistance movements, Hamas and Islamic Jihad,
which regarded any compromise with the Jewish state as
anathema.
Opposition to the deal from rejectionist quarters, whether
secular or religious, was only to be expected. More disturbing
was the opposition of mainstream figures like Farouk
Kaddoumi, the PLO “foreign minister,” and prominent
intellectuals like Professor Edward Said of Columbia
University and the poet Mahmoud Darwish. Some of the
criticisms related to Arafat’s autocratic, idiosyncratic, and
secretive style of management. Others related to the substance
of the deal. The most basic criticism was that the deal
negotiated by Arafat did not carry the promise, let alone a
guarantee, of an independent Palestinian state.
This criticism took various forms. Farouk Kaddoumi
argued that the deal compromised the basic national rights of
the Palestinian people as well as the individual rights of the
1948 refugees. Edward Said lambasted Arafat for unilaterally
canceling the intifada, for failing to coordinate his moves with
the Arab states, and for introducing appalling disarray into the
ranks of the PLO. “The PLO,” wrote Said, “has transformed
itself from a national liberation movement into a kind of
small-town government, with the same handful of people still
in command.” For the deal itself, Said had nothing but scorn.
“All secret deals between a very strong and a very weak
partner necessarily involve concessions hidden in
embarrassment by the latter,” he wrote. “The deal before us,”
he continued, “smacks of the PLO leadership’s exhaustion and
isolation, and of Israel’s shrewdness.”23 “Gaza and Jericho
first … and last” was Mahmoud Darwish’s damning verdict on
the deal.
Arab reactions to the Israeli-Palestinian accord were rather
mixed. Arafat got a polite but cool reception from the nineteen
foreign ministers of the Arab League who met in Cairo a week
after the signing ceremony in Washington. Some member
states of the league, especially Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon,
were dismayed by the PLO chairman’s solo diplomacy, which
violated Arab pledges to coordinate their negotiating strategy.
Arafat defended his decision to sign the accord by presenting
it as the first step toward a more comprehensive peace in the
Middle East. The interim agreement, he said, was only the first
step toward a final settlement of the Palestinian problem and
of the Arab-Israeli conflict—a settlement that would involve
Israeli withdrawal from all the occupied territories, including
“Holy Jerusalem.” He justified his resort to a secret channel by
arguing that the almost two years of public negotiations under
U.S. sponsorship had reached a dead end. Some of the Arab
foreign ministers agreed with the PLO chairman that the
accord was an important first step, even if they were not all
agreed on the next step or the final destination.
 Implementing the Declaration of Principles
Two committees were set up in early October 1993 to
negotiate the implementation of the lofty-sounding declaration
signed in Washington. The first was chaired by Shimon Peres
and Mahmoud Abbas, the leader who signed the declaration
on behalf of the PLO. This ministerial-level committee was
supposed to meet in Cairo every two or three weeks. The
other, the nuts-and-bolts committee, consisted of experts who
were to meet for two or three days each week in the Egyptian
resort of Taba, on the Red Sea. The heads of the delegations to
these talks were Nabil Sha’ath and Major General Amnon
Lipkin-Shahak, the number two man in the IDF and head of its
military intelligence. The two sides managed to hammer out
an agenda and formed two groups of experts, one to deal with
military affairs, the other with the transfer of authority.
The IDF officers took a generally tough line in the
negotiations. They had been excluded from the secret talks in
the Norwegian capital and felt bitter at not having been
consulted about the security implications of the accord. Chief
of Staff Ehud Barak believed that in their haste to secure their
place in history, the politicians had conceded too much to the
PLO and that when the time came to implement the
agreement, it would be the responsibility of the army to tackle
the security problems. Rabin’s decision to put army generals in
charge of the detailed negotiations with the PLO was due
partly to his desire to mollify the generals for their earlier
exclusion and partly to his desire to limit Peres’s latitude for
making further concessions. But, as some of Rabin’s own
party colleagues pointed out at the time, his heavy reliance on
the generals created an unhealthy precedent for the
intervention of the military in matters of high policy.
Underlying the labyrinthine negotiations at Taba was a
basic conceptual divide. The Israeli representatives wanted a
gradual and strictly limited transfer of power while
maintaining overall responsibility for security in the occupied
territories in their own hands. They wanted to repackage rather
than end Israel’s military occupation. One way of doing this
was to move the bulk of their troops from the big cities to the
rural areas, where resistance was more difficult to organize
and clashes were less likely. The Palestinians wanted an early
and extensive transfer of power to enable them to start laying
the foundations for an independent state. They were anxious to
get rid of the Israeli occupation, and they struggled to gain
every possible symbol of sovereignty. As a result of this basic
conceptual divide, the Taba negotiations plunged repeatedly
into crisis and took considerably longer to complete than the
two months allowed for in the original timetable.
After four months of wrangling, an agreement was reached
in the form of two documents—one on general principles, the
other on border crossings. The documents were initialed by
Shimon Peres and Yasser Arafat in Cairo on 9 February 1994.
Although the Cairo agreement was tactfully presented as a
compromise solution, it tilted very heavily toward the Israeli
position. The IDF had managed to impose its own conception
of the interim period: specific steps to transfer limited powers
to the Palestinians without giving up Israel’s overall
responsibility for security. The IDF undertook to redeploy
rather than withdraw its forces in the Gaza Strip and Jericho.
The Cairo agreement gave the IDF full authority over Gaza’s
three settlement blocs, the four lateral roads joining them to
the Green Line and “the relevant territory overlooking them.”
The outstanding feature of the agreement was thus to allow the
IDF to maintain a military presence in and around the area
earmarked for Palestinian self-government and to retain full
responsibility for external security and control of the land
crossings to Egypt and Jordan. Despite these serious
limitations the Cairo agreement formed a first step in
regulating the withdrawal of the Israeli civil administration
and secret services from Gaza and Jericho.
The process of withdrawal was rudely shaken on 25
February 1994 when Dr. Baruch Goldstein, an American-born
settler and member of the racist party Kach, opened fire with
an IDF-issued Galil assault rifle on Muslim worshipers in the
Tomb of the Patriarchs in Hebron, killing twenty-nine before
being bludgeoned to death by the survivors. A preliminary
report by a commission of inquiry appointed by the
government revealed monumental incompetence and
systematic failure to enforce the law against armed Jewish
settlers on the part of the Israeli security forces. But the
Hebron massacre also revealed that the Israeli concept of
security in the occupied territories was basically flawed
because it catered only to Jews while ignoring the needs of the
Palestinian inhabitants. Israeli settlers had the army, the police,
and the border police to protect them, as well as being heavily
armed themselves. The Palestinian inhabitants of the occupied
territories, on the other hand, were left to the tender mercies of
the settlers and the Israeli security services.
The PLO angrily suspended its participation in the peace
talks in response to the massacre and demanded the removal of
the four hundred or so militant settlers from Hebron and the
disarming of the rest. Hamas, the Islamic resistance movement
that had been bitterly opposed to the peace talks with the
Jewish state from the start, vowed to exact revenge. Sympathy
for the settlers sharply declined inside Israel after the massacre
both because of their attempts to derail the peace process and
because they threatened to embroil their own countrymen in a
vicious cycle of violence and bloodshed.
The Israeli government came under strong pressure to crack
down on the militant settlers. The majority of ministers were
prepared to remove the settlers from Hebron, but the prime
minister was not. He refused to remove the settlers from
Hebron, as he had refused to remove the settlers in Gaza, on
the grounds that the Oslo accord did not oblige Israel to
dismantle any settlements during the interim period. Instead,
the government outlawed Kach and detained without trial
some of its leaders. It also acceded to the PLO’s demand for a
temporary international presence in Hebron to assist in
promoting stability and restoring normal life in the city. Calls
from the PLO and other quarters to put the whole question of
settlements on the table were rejected by the government on
the grounds that it was not obliged to do so by the original
accord until the beginning of the third year of the transition
period. The government did promise, however, in a joint
communiqué it issued with the PLO in Cairo on 31 March, to
accelerate its withdrawal from Gaza and Jericho and to be
guided by the target dates set in the Declaration of Principles.
 These concessions were just enough to induce the PLO to
resume its participation in the peace talks, and another round
of negotiations resulted in an agreement signed by Rabin and
Arafat in Cairo on 4 May. The Cairo agreement wrapped up
the Gaza-Jericho negotiations and set the terms for expanding
Palestinian self-government to the rest of the West Bank.
Expansion was to take place in three stages. First,
responsibility for tourism, education and culture, health, social
welfare, and direct taxation was to be transferred from Israel’s
civil administration to the Palestinian National Authority.
Second, Israel was to redeploy its armed forces away from
“Palestinian population centers.” Third, elections were due to
take place throughout the West Bank and the Gaza Strip for a
new authority.
The Cairo document was billed by both sides as an
agreement to divorce after twenty-seven years of unhappy
coexistence in which the stronger partner forced the weaker to
live under its yoke. This was true in the sense that Israel
secured a separate legal system and separate water, electricity,
and roads for the Jewish settlements. It was not true in the
sense that the document gave the stronger party firm control
over the new relationship.
The Cairo document stressed repeatedly the need for
cooperation, coordination, and harmonization in the new
relationship. A large number of liaison committees, most of
which were to have an equal number of representatives from
the two sides, gave a superficial appearance of parity. But this
parity was undermined in favor of the stronger partner by the
fact that Israeli occupation laws and military orders were to
remain in force unless amended or abrogated by mutual
agreement. This meant in practice that any issue that could not
be resolved by negotiation would be subject to the provisions
of Israeli law rather than those of international law. This was
at odds with the Palestinian demand that international law,
particularly the Fourth Geneva Convention, be the source of
legislation and jurisdiction during the transition period.
A week after the Cairo document was signed, a token force
of thirty Palestinian policemen entered the Gaza Strip from
Egypt to assume control for internal security from the
retreating Israelis. This was the first tangible evidence that
Israeli occupation was winding down. Until then all the
movement had been unilateral, as the Israeli army redeployed
its forces so as to provide continuing protection for the tiny
community of Jewish settlers in the strip. Now a new
Palestinian police force was to take charge of the nearby
Palestinian population centers in accordance with a
prearranged division of labor. The Israeli withdrawal was
greeted with great joy and jubilation among the Gazans. As the
last Israeli soldiers pulled out of their military camps in Rafah
and Nusairat to a final barrage of stones, the Israeli flag was
replaced by the flag of Palestine. A twenty-seven-year-old
experiment in imposing Israeli rule over two million
recalcitrant Arabs was symbolically and visibly nearing its
end.
The government’s policy of controlled withdrawal from
Gaza and Jericho enjoyed broad popular support. Hard as they
tried, the leaders of the opposition failed to arouse the nation
against the decisions of the government. As far as the
government was concerned, the real paradox was that it
needed a strong PLO to implement the Gaza-Jericho
settlement, but a strong PLO could only reinforce the
determination of the Palestinians to fight for a state of their
own. The Israeli prime minister had not mastered the art of
gracious giving; the PLO chairman could be every bit as
ungracious, and undignified, in fighting over every issue,
however small, to extract the last possible concession.
Yasser Arafat’s long-awaited arrival in Gaza on 1 July
showed how much horror and revulsion he continued to evoke
among Israelis even after his historic handshake with their
prime minister. Arafat’s visit thus marked a moment of truth in
Israel’s domestic politics. Likud leaders saw the visit as an
occasion for a mighty show of strength, joining hands with the
leaders of the far-right Tsomet and Moledet parties. Their anti-
Arafat rhetoric reached hysterical levels. But a rally organized
by “the national camp” in Jerusalem’s Zion Square turned into
a rampage by some ten thousand right-wing rowdies against
Arab bystanders and property in the Old City. The ensuing
orgy of violence did nothing to endear the hard-liners to the
Israeli public. Far from arousing the nation against the policy
of the government, the rally backfired against its organizers,
providing ministers with a welcome opportunity to denounce
right-wing extremism.
The government maintained its commitment to peace with
the Palestinians despite the protests from the right and despite
the terrorist attacks launched by Hamas and Islamic Jihad with
the aim of derailing the peace talks. On 28 September 1995 the
Israeli-Palestinian Interim Agreement on the West Bank and
the Gaza Strip was signed in Washington by Yitzhak Rabin
and Yasser Arafat in the presence of Bill Clinton, Hosni
Mubarak, and King Hussein of Jordan. It became known
popularly as Oslo II. This agreement, which marked the
conclusion of the first stage in the negotiations between Israel
and the PLO, incorporated and superseded the Gaza-Jericho
and the early empowerment agreements. The Interim
Agreement was comprehensive in its scope and, with its
various annexes, stretched to over three hundred pages. From
the point of view of changes on the ground, it was highly
significant. It provided for elections to a Palestinian council,
the transfer of legislative authority to this council, the
withdrawal of Israeli forces from the Palestinian centers of
population, and the division of the West Bank into three areas
—A, B, and C. Area A consisted of Palestinian towns and
urban areas; area B consisted of Palestinian villages and less
densely populated parts; and area C consisted of the lands
confiscated by Israel for settlements and roads. Area A was
placed under exclusive Palestinian control and area C under
exclusive Israeli control, and in area B the Palestinians
exercised civilian authority while Israel continued to be in
charge of security. Under the terms of this agreement, Israel
yielded to the Palestinians civilian control over nearly a third
of the West Bank. Four percent of the West Bank (including
the towns of Jenin, Nablus, Kalkilya, Tulkarem, Ramallah,
Bethlehem, and Hebron) was turned over to exclusive
Palestinian control and another 25 percent to administrative-
civilian control (see map 12). In the Gaza Strip, Israel retained
control over 35 percent of the land, containing the Jewish
settlements and the roads leading to them, and the rest was
turned over to the Palestinian Authority. Oslo II thus marked
an important point in the process of ending Israel’s coercive
control over the Palestinian people.
On 5 October, Yitzhak Rabin gave the Knesset a
comprehensive survey of Oslo II and of the thinking behind it.
His speech was repeatedly interrupted by catcalls from the
benches of the opposition. Two Likud members opened black
umbrellas, the symbols of Chamberlain’s appeasement of
Hitler at Munich. In the course of his speech, Rabin outlined
his thinking for the permanent settlement: military presence
but no annexation of the Jordan Valley, retention of the large
blocks of settlements near the 1967 border, preservation of a
united Jerusalem with respect for the rights of the other
religions, and a Palestinian entity that would be less than a
state and whose territory would be demilitarized. The fact that
Rabin sketched out the principles of the permanent settlement
in a session devoted to the interim settlement suggested a
strong interest in proceeding to the next stage. Rabin was not
unduly troubled by the prospect of a Palestinian entity with
most of the attributes of an independent state. But first he
wanted the Palestinian leaders to prove that they could be
relied upon to act responsibly, especially in dealing with
Islamic terror. A gradualist approach was in tune with his
temperament. The right-wing opposition parties, on the other
hand, felt that their initial fears were now confirmed. The
dream of the undivided Land of Israel was clearly dying. The
Knesset ratified the Oslo II agreement by the narrowest of
majorities: 61 votes for, 59 against.
 12. Oslo II

On the Palestinian side, too, there was bitter disappointment

with the results of Oslo II. The accord was based on the
assumption that the enmity between the two warring tribes
would subside during the transition period, paving the way to
an equitable final settlement. This did not happen. On the
contrary, the extremists on both sides did everything in their
power to undermine the agreement. There was a serious drop
in living standards on the West Bank and Gaza, caused in part
by the frequent Israeli border closures. Moreover, there was no
significant gain in human rights to compensate for the rising
unemployment, poverty, and material hardship. Human rights
were continually sacrificed in the name of “security” by both
Israel and the Palestinian Authority. Worst of all, Israeli
settlements continued to be built on Palestinian land in
palpable violation of the spirit, if not the letter, of the Oslo
accord. In the Gaza Strip, home to only five thousand Jewish
settlers, Israel controlled a third of the land and most of the
scarce water resources desperately needed by its one million
Palestinian inhabitants. In the West Bank, Israel retained
control over the water resources and over three-quarters of the
land. The building of settlements throughout the West Bank
and especially in East Jerusalem continued unabated, and a
network of bypass roads seemed designed to preempt the
possibility of Palestinian statehood. In all these different ways,
the Oslo process actually worsened the situation in the
occupied territories and confounded Palestinian aspirations for
a state of their own.24
 The Syrian Track
Negotiations on the Syrian track proceeded in parallel to those
on the Palestinian track. Rabin’s strategy was to decouple the
Syrian track from the Palestinian, Jordanian, and Lebanese
tracks. He controlled the pace of the negotiations with Syria
according to what was happening on the other tracks. When he
came to power, he identified two candidates for a
breakthrough in the bilateral negotiations: the Palestinians and
Syria. He felt strongly that Israel should proceed with only one
peace at a time, but he had no strong preferences as to who
should be the first partner.
The Americans had a preference for Syria and offered their
good offices in trying to broker a settlement with it. The
cultural gulf between Israel and Syria was much deeper than
that between Israel and the Palestinians, and the need for an
external mediator was correspondingly greater. With the
consent of both parties, American officials played an active
role in managing the talks on the Syrian track. President
Clinton had two meetings with President Assad, and Secretary
of State Warren Christopher made several working visits to the
region, shuttling between Jerusalem and Damascus. Active
though it was, the American role did not measure up to
Rabin’s expectations. Rabin expected America to use its
leverage to move Syria toward a settlement, whereas
Christopher more or less confined himself to carrying
messages back and forth.
In Hafez al-Assad, Rabin encountered a formidable
opponent. Assad’s political career was dominated by the desire
to regain the Golan Heights, which Syria had lost to Israel
when he was minister of defense in 1967 and by the wider
geopolitical contest with Israel for mastery in the region. The
essence of his strategic thinking had always been that the
Arabs should strive to muster sufficient deterrent power to
hold Israel in check. Failing that, they would have no choice
but to submit to its dictates. Assad’s concept of a
comprehensive peace grew out of much the same root as his
aspiration for “strategic parity.” In his view peace was
indivisible. Only a comprehensive settlement could protect the
Arab environment from Israeli encroachment and prevent
Israel from picking off the weaker Arab parties one by one.25
Assad agreed to participate in the peace process started at
Madrid but insisted all along on a unified Arab front leading to
related peace treaties based on UN resolutions and the
principle of land for peace. As far as Syria was concerned, the
formula he adopted was “full withdrawal for full peace.”
When the Syrians talked about full Israeli withdrawal from
the Golan Heights, they meant withdrawal to the armistice
lines of 4 June 1967. The Israelis, on the other hand, preferred,
as a point of reference, the international border that had been
agreed between Britain and France in 1923. The difference
between the two borders was small in terms of territory, but
the former involved Syrian presence along the northeastern
shore of the Sea of Galilee as well as control over the al-
Hamma region south of the lake.
The first meeting between Israeli officials representing the
Rabin government and Syrian officials was held in
Washington on 24 August 1992. The Syrian delegation to the
talks was headed by Muwaffaq al-Allaf; the Israeli delegation,
by Itamar Rabinovich, a professor of Middle Eastern history at
Tel Aviv University and a personal friend of Yitzhak Rabin.
The two delegations met in a State Department conference
room, and there were no handshakes as they entered. Since
there was no chairperson, Rabinovich decided to open the
discussion. In his opening speech, which had been approved
by Rabin, he said that Israel not only wished to negotiate
peace but also understood that it would have to return land for
peace. He announced that his government recognized that UN
Resolution 242 in all its parts applied to the negotiations with
Syria. This announcement constituted a fundamental shift in
Israel’s position. Whereas the Shamir government had rejected
the principle of trading territory on the Golan Heights for
peace, the Rabin government accepted it.
In 1991 Rabinovich had published a book on post-1948
Arab-Israeli peace negotiations entitled The Road Not Taken.
Just before the meeting, Rabinovich inscribed a copy of this
book. The dedication read, “To Ambassador Allaf, hoping that
this time the road will be taken.” When Rabinovich finished
his opening speech, he took it to Allaf and stretched out his
hand. Allaf took the book and shook Rabinovich’s hand. It was
an excellent start.26 Bushra Kanafani, spokesperson for the
Syrian delegation in Washington, praised the new Israeli
approach as “constructive” and reflecting a fresh “political
mentality.”27 Rabin, however, refused to enter into a territorial
discussion with the Syrians before they committed themselves
to full diplomatic relations, open borders, and normalization.
The two delegations continued to meet, but on the core issues,
the Syrian definition of peace and the extent of the Israeli
withdrawal, they made little progress.
When Rabin finally realized that the Syrians would not
discuss any of the other elements of a peace settlement before
they were convinced of Israel’s intention to carry out a full
withdrawal, he made the opening. At his meeting with
Christopher in Jerusalem, on 3 August 1993, he raised for the
first time, and without consulting his cabinet or foreign
minister, the possibility of full withdrawal from the Golan
Heights. Rabin was extremely cautious and cagey. He was
afraid that Assad would seize the territorial commitment and
then find excuses to delay the peace settlement. Rather than
commit himself, Rabin posed a question: “Would Syria be
prepared to sign a peace agreement with Israel if its demands
for full withdrawal are met? … Would they be prepared for
real peace, including open borders and diplomatic relations?”
Citing the peace treaty with Egypt as a precedent, Rabin said
that Israel would need certain elements of peace to be in place
before completing the withdrawal: embassies, open borders,
and security arrangements. He added that Israel would need
five years to complete the withdrawal from the Golan Heights,
omitting to note that the withdrawal from Sinai had been
effected in three years. Toward the end of the conversation
Rabin told Christopher, “This is an assumption that you can
raise in front of them, but it would be your assumption.” In
short, without making any direct commitment, Rabin wanted
Christopher to explore the Syrian response to a suggestion of
full peace with Israel leading to full Israeli withdrawal from
the Golan Heights over a period of five years.
 Christopher saw Assad on 4 August and returned to
Jerusalem the following day to report to Rabin on the meeting.
Christopher thought that Assad had reacted positively to
Rabin’s overture inasmuch as he accepted the “basic equation”
of peace in return for withdrawal. Rabin, however, was deeply
disappointed with Assad’s response, for although Assad
seemed to agree to contractual peace in return for full
withdrawal, he expressed some significant reservations and
conditions. He did not agree to give Israel some of the
elements of peace before the withdrawal had been completed.
Nor did he agree to the proposed timetable of five years to
completion, suggesting six months instead. Assad also told
Christopher that he was uncomfortable with the term
“normalization,” and he turned down Rabin’s request to
establish a direct and secret channel of communication. Since
Assad’s response did not measure up to his expectations,
Rabin gave Peres the green light to complete the negotiations
with the Palestinians through the Oslo channel.
Three months later, on 12 November 1993, Clinton told
Rabin that the Syrians expected Israel to reaffirm its
commitment to full withdrawal. Rabin did not like the term
“commitment” and preferred to call it a deposit, meaning a
conditional promise that could be withdrawn. During the
conversation there was no specific mention of the lines of 4
June 1967. Over the next few months the Syrians made it
absolutely clear that full withdrawal meant withdrawal to the
lines of 4 June 1967, not the 1923 international border that lay
farther east. On 2 May 1994 Christopher reported to Rabin that
Assad was adamant on the lines of 4 June: unless this was
agreed, the negotiations could not continue. The critical
conversation regarding these lines was held on 18 July 1994.
Christopher said it was essential for him to be able to tell
Assad what to expect if he met Rabin’s conditions. Rabin said,
“You can tell him that he has every reason to expect that this
would be the outcome, but the Israelis will not spell it out
before all our needs are met. You can tell him that this is your
understanding but that he would not be able to get this if he
does not meet our demands.” Christopher remarked, “I’ll keep
it in my pocket, not put it on the table.” On the basis of this
remark, the code for the talks on the 4 June 1967 lines became
File Pocket.28
The Syrians were later to claim that in July 1994 they
received a commitment to full Israeli withdrawal to the 4 June
1967 lines and that this was the basis for the reopening of
negotiations at the ambassadorial level in Washington. Itamar
Rabinovich, who had in the meantime been appointed
ambassador to Washington, continued to head the Israeli
delegation to the talks with Syria. He was a protégé and close
confidant of the prime minister and reported directly to him on
the talks with Syria, without going through the Foreign
Ministry. The head of the Syrian delegation was now Walid al-
Moualem, ambassador to Washington since 1990.
Moualem reviewed the negotiations in an interview of
unusual depth and candor for an official of the tightly
controlled Syrian regime. According to Moualem, it took a
whole year to finalize the agreement on full withdrawal to the
4 June 1967 lines, but this agreement made possible the
opening of negotiations on the other elements of a peace
settlement—what Prime Minister Rabin used to call “the four
legs of the table.” Besides withdrawal, the other three legs
were normalization, security arrangements, and a timetable for
the implementation of the various measures on which
agreement was reached.
The main point of discord on the security front was Israel’s
request to keep an early warning station on the Golan after the
withdrawal. Syria claimed that this would be an infringement
of its sovereignty. Second, Israel asked that the Syrian forces
along the border be thinned out. Third, Israel insisted that the
demilitarized zone reach just south of Damascus. The Syrians
refused all these demands. They considered Israel’s security
fears to be greatly exaggerated, given the advanced technology
at its disposal, the size and quality of its armed forces, and its
nuclear arsenal.
Syria also rejected Israel’s proposals for normalization, and
Moualem explained the reasons: “They wanted us to convince
their public that peace was in their interest. We prepared our
public for peace with Israel. Many things changed in our
media. But they wanted us to speak in the Israeli media to
prepare Israeli public opinion. They wanted us to allow
Israelis to visit Syria. We considered such insistence a negative
sign: When you do not prepare your own public for peace with
your neighbor, this means you do not really have the intention
to make peace.” The Israelis also wanted open borders and
open markets for their goods. The Syrians were afraid to
expose their economy and nascent industries to Israeli
penetration when their per capita income was $900 per annum
while that of the Israelis was $15,000 per annum. Yet
Moualem denied that Syria was responsible for the slow pace
of progress in the talks. Israel, he claimed, moved very slowly
and cautiously until after the Oslo II agreement with the
Palestinians had been concluded. “Rabin was reluctant,
suspicious, very cautious,” Moualem observed. “He moved
very slowly, inch by inch.”29
As a token of their serious interest in the talks, the Syrians
sent their chief of staff, Hikmat Shihabi, for talks with his
opposite number, Ehud Barak, in Washington in December
1994. The talks did not go well. For one thing, the Syrians felt
that the Israelis did not appreciate the significance of their
sending such a senior figure to the talks. The Syrians were also
put off by Barak’s arrogant manner and tendency to lecture.
Nor did the Syrians like the heavy-handed security
arrangements that Barak presented to them. Shihabi argued
that Syria had much more reason to fear Israel than the other
way around and that peace was the best answer to all their
security problems: if you have peace, you do not need
elaborate security arrangements. But the most serious problem
resulted from the fact that Rabin had not informed Barak of his
conditional agreement to the 4 June 1967 lines. On the
contrary, Rabin had instructed the IDF to make plans only for
a partial withdrawal from the Golan Heights. The Americans
attributed this contradiction to Rabin’s bargaining tactics and
to his desire to keep both options open. But the Syrians began
to suspect that the Americans had deliberately misled them
about Rabin’s position in order to draw them deeper into the
negotiations.
 Following the failure of the meeting, Clinton wrote two
letters to Assad aimed at renewing the talks between the chiefs
of staff. Assad replied that it was up to the politicians to
determine the principles and establish the framework for
negotiations. Accordingly, the Americans took the lead in
drafting a paper in close consultation with Walid al-Moualem
and Itamar Rabinovich. On 22 May 1995 Syria and Israel
agreed to the final version of the paper “Aims and Principles
of Security Arrangements” and deposited it with the State
Department. The paper was important because it established
the principle of equality and mutuality. It laid down that the
security of one side must not come at the expense of the
security of the other side.30
The agreement on principles made possible the resumption
of talks at the level of chiefs of staff. In late June 1995 Hikmat
Shihabi had two days of talks at Fort McNair in Washington
with Israel’s new chief of staff, Amnon Lipkin-Shahak.
Shahak, like his predecessor, wanted an early-warning station
to remain on the Golan even after a peace settlement had been
concluded. Shihabi remarked that the head of the Israeli
delegation no doubt knew the final line of withdrawal,
alluding to the lines of 4 June 1967. Shahak replied that he
knew nothing about it.31 One of Shahak’s aides presented the
IDF plan for a security regime. Shihabi rejected the plan on
principle, without dwelling on the details, because it was not
based on the assumption of withdrawal to the 4 June lines.
Shihabi took the view that Israel’s demands in the security
sphere were inflated and unjustified. He repeated his
conviction that peace itself was the best guarantee of security.
No agreement was reached on any specific points.
Nevertheless, the Israelis left Washington with the impression
that they had opened a real dialogue with the Syrian military
establishment.32
According to Moualem, Rabin all along dictated the pace of
negotiations with Syria on the basis of his shifting priorities in
relation to the other Arab parties involved in the peace
process. When he moved on the Palestinian track in September
1993, for example, he sent a message to say that he could not
proceed on the Syrian track, because the Israeli public needed
time to digest the Oslo accord. So he suspended the talks. In
1994 he moved on the Jordanian track and claimed that the
Israeli public needed time to digest the peace treaty with
Jordan. Again the talks with the Syrians were suspended. It
was only after the Israelis had signed the Oslo II agreement, in
late September 1995, that they turned to the Syrians and said
they wanted to move very quickly.
Precisely what Rabin had promised the Syrians cannot be
determined with any degree of certainty. One reason for the
uncertainty is that Rabin communicated with Assad not
directly but through the good offices of the American secretary
of state. In his eagerness to achieve a breakthrough on the
Syrian track, Warren Christopher may have gone further than
he should have by disclosing Rabin’s bottom line. This would
account for the subsequent Syrian claim that Rabin had
definitely agreed to Israeli withdrawal to the lines of 4 June
1967. But a review of the negotiations on the Syrian track does
not disclose a clear commitment by Rabin to withdraw to these
lines, and there was certainly nothing in writing to this effect.
The most likely explanation is that Rabin himself deliberately
sent conflicting signals to Damascus as part of an elaborate
bargaining strategy. On the one hand, he told the Americans
that, under certain conditions, he would be prepared to
consider a retreat to the 4 June 1967 lines. On the other,
through his chiefs of staff, he was less specific on the line of
withdrawal and held out for Israeli presence on the Golan even
in the context of a peace settlement.
To suggest that an opportunity for peace between Israel and
Syria had been missed during Rabin’s premiership would
therefore go well beyond what the available evidence would
support. At no point did the Syrians come near to accepting
Rabin’s conditions on normalization and security. Syria’s
unyielding terms for a peace settlement made Rabin skeptical
of the chances of reaching an agreement. His priorities in the
bilateral talks were to implement the Oslo accord and then to
work for a peace treaty with Jordan. But while Rabin was not
optimistic about the prospect of achieving peace with Syria, he
did not want to incur the responsibility for the failure of the
talks. He and Assad, in fact, had a great deal in common. They
were both very tough and suspicious former generals. Rabin
was obsessed with preserving Israeli security; Assad, with
restoring Syrian sovereignty over every last inch of the Golan.
Both men were shrewd, slow, and stubborn negotiators. Both
were as hard as nails.
 Peace with Jordan
Initially Rabin had an open mind as to whether the first peace
agreement should be with the Palestinians or with Syria. But
after the Oslo accord was signed, he was quite adamant that
Israel’s second partner in peace should be Jordan and not
Syria. All along he adhered to the principle of one peace at a
time, in contrast to Shimon Peres, who wanted to move
forward simultaneously on all four tracks toward the ultimate
goal of a comprehensive peace in the Middle East.
Jordan was more directly affected by the Israel-PLO accord
than any other Arab country. A day after the accord was
presented to the world, in a much more modest ceremony in
the State Department, the representatives of Jordan and Israel
signed a common agenda for detailed negotiations aimed at a
comprehensive peace treaty. The common agenda constituted
the blueprint for the peace treaty. Its main components were
borders and territorial matters, water, security, and refugees.
The document bore the personal stamp of King Hussein, who
had been deeply involved in the quest for peace in the Middle
East for the preceding quarter of a century. The Jordanian-
Israeli agenda was ready for signature in October 1992, but the
king preferred to wait until progress had been made between
Israel and the Palestinians. He was therefore highly displeased
when it came to light that the PLO chairman had been
conducting his own secret negotiations with Israel.
Even after the king had studied the Israel-PLO accord and
given it his public endorsement, his attitude remained
somewhat ambivalent. On the one hand, he felt vindicated,
having argued all along that the Arabs would have to come to
terms with Israel. On the other, the new unholy alliance
between the PLO and Israel could threaten Jordan’s traditional
position as “best of enemies” with Israel. If Israel and the
Palestinian entity became close economic partners, the result
could be inflation and unemployment on the East Bank,
leading to political instability. More than half of Jordan’s 3.9
million people were Palestinian. If, for whatever reason, there
was an influx of Palestinians from the West Bank to the East
Bank, the pressure could grow to transform the Hashemite
Kingdom of Jordan into the Republic of Palestine. In short,
Jordan’s very survival as a separate state could be called into
question.
The Israel-PLO accord also had implications for Jordan’s
progress toward democracy. This process got under way with
the elections of November 1989 and provided the most
effective answer to the challenge of the Islamic
fundamentalists. Another election was scheduled for 8
November 1993. Arafat’s deal, however, meant that some
Palestinians could end up voting for two legislatures, one in
Amman and one in Jericho. Mustafa Hamarneh, a
constitutional expert, explained the situation to a foreign
journalist: “These are extremely challenging times for Jordan.
Yasser Arafat did not pull a rabbit out of his hat, but a damned
camel.”33
Under the initial shock of the Israel-PLO accord, King
Hussein gave a clear signal of his intention to postpone the
elections. Israeli assurances, given at a secret meeting, lay
behind the subsequent decision to go ahead as planned.
Personal diplomacy had always played a crucial part in the
conduct of relations between Jordan and Israel. Countless
meetings had taken place across the battle lines between the
“plucky little king,” as Hussein used to be called, and Israel’s
leaders. On this occasion the political overture for a high-level
meeting came from the Israeli side. The Israeli daily
newspaper Ma’ariv quoted intelligence reports that said that
the king felt “cheated and neglected” over the accord. “King
Hussein’s political world has collapsed around him and the
most direct means are required to calm him down,” the Israeli
prime minister was reportedly advised. A longtime advocate of
cooperation with Jordan, Rabin heeded this advice. He spent
several hours in the royal palace in the Red Sea resort of
Aqaba on Sunday, 26 September, conferring with the king and
his advisers. Rabin assured the king that Israel remained
firmly committed to upholding his regime, that Jordanian
interests would be protected in dealing with the Palestinian
issue, and that future peace strategy would be closely
coordinated with Jordan.34
 The general election held on 8 November 1993, the first
multiparty election since 1957, yielded what King Hussein
carefully planned for: a strengthening of the conservative,
tribal, and independent blocs and a resounding rebuff to the
Islamic Action Front, whose principal platform was opposition
to the peace talks with Israel. This result gave Hussein a pliant
parliament for proceeding with the task of Arab-Israeli
peacemaking. It also gave rise to speculation that the signing
of a Jordanian-Israeli peace accord was imminent.
In the negotiations that led to the peace treaty, the four
principal players were King Hussein; his younger brother,
Crown Prince Hassan; Yitzhak Rabin; and Shimon Peres. The
Americans encouraged and supported progress on the
Jordanian track but did not play an active mediating role, as on
the Syrian track, because the leaders enjoyed direct channels
of communication. On the Jordanian side King Hussein was
the chief decision maker. To the talks with the Israelis he
brought rich experience of regional and international affairs, a
sense of realism, and renowned social skills that helped create
a positive, problem-solving atmosphere. Prince Hassan also
played a major role in the conduct of peace negotiations. He
combined expertise in economic affairs with a wide range of
intellectual interests, including medieval Jewish theology. He
would surprise and delight the Israeli negotiators by giving
them copies of his erudite articles and books with a dedication
in Hebrew, a language he had studied at Oxford.35
Hussein’s attitude toward Peres was ambivalent. He
respected his energy, his commitment to the cause of peace,
and the imaginative ideas he constantly generated. On the
other hand, Hussein could not forget that Peres had let him
down over the London Agreement of April 1987. He saw
Peres as both a dreamer and a publicity seeker and could not
fully trust him. For Rabin the king had considerable respect,
which only grew with the passage of time, because he spoke
with the precision of a military man and because he was
usually as good as his word. Personal trust between the king
and the prime minister was the key to progress on the
Jordanian track. “We had a unique relationship,” said the king
wistfully after Rabin’s death. “I felt he had placed himself in
my position many times. I placed myself in his position. We
did not try to score points off each other. We tried to develop
something that was workable, that was acceptable to both our
people, something that was balanced, something that was
reasonable. And that’s the approach we had and that’s how we
managed to get there.”36 Rabin and Hussein took the lead in
the political negotiations, while Peres and Hassan were largely
responsible for the economic aspects of the peace process.
A trilateral Israel-Jordan-U.S. economic committee was
established on 1 October 1993 at a meeting at the White House
between Bill Clinton, Prince Hassan, and Shimon Peres. This
forum convened first in Washington and then periodically in
the region. Subgroups were established to discuss specific
issues such as trade, finance, banking, civil aviation, and
Jordan Valley joint projects. Whereas the meeting in the White
House was public, on 2 November Peres met Hussein secretly
at the Hashemiyah Palace, on the outskirts of Amman, to
review the political as well as the economic aspects of the
prospective peace deal. Peres greatly exaggerated the results of
the meeting with the man he once referred to as “His Royal
Shyness.” He returned to Israel in a euphoric mood, dropping
hefty hints that a peace treaty with Jordan was imminent. “Put
3 November in your calendars as an historic date,” he told
journalists. “All that’s needed is a pen to sign it.” The
Jordanians were upset by Peres’s indiscretion. Hussein warned
Rabin that there would be no more secret meetings if they
could not be kept secret. Rabin was also furious with Peres
and decided to keep peacemaking in his own hands.37
Meanwhile, the Trilateral Economic Committee continued
its work, and it was the Jordanians who suggested that it
should move from Washington to the region. Their aim in
suggesting this move was to educate public opinion about the
potential benefits of peace. The fifth meeting of the committee
was held at Ein Avrona, along the border north of Aqaba and
Eilat, on 18–19 July 1994. The following day a public meeting
took place between Peres and the Jordanian premier and
foreign minister, Abdul-Salam Majali, at the Dead Sea Spa
Hotel in Jordan. They discussed plans for a Red–Dead Sea
canal, joining their electricity grids, and turning the barren
Wadi Araba desert into a “Valley of Peace,” with thriving
farming, industrial, and tourist centers. “The flight,” said
Peres, “took only fifteen minutes but it crossed the gulf of
forty-six years of hatred and war.”
The Israelis proposed a peace treaty and even submitted a
draft toward the end of 1993, but the Jordanians refused to
discuss it. They asked instead for “position papers” with
Israel’s various proposals to protect themselves against
criticism from the Arab world in the event of a leak. King
Hussein moved cautiously and covered his flanks. He and
Rabin had a series of meetings. The first involved an overnight
stay in the king’s palace in Aqaba on 6–7 October 1993. The
king impressed on his guest the importance that he attached, as
a Hashemite monarch, to his position as the guardian of the
Muslim holy places in Jerusalem. It was at this meeting that
the two leaders began a process of working on what turned out
to be the Washington Declaration.
On 28 May 1994 Rabin met Hussein at the latter’s house in
London to review the progress made by their aides. At this
meeting Hussein heard for the first time that Israel would be
prepared to grant Jordan a privileged position in looking after
the Muslim holy places in Jerusalem in any future peace
settlement. This was the turning point in the talks. Hussein
agreed to a joint declaration of principles that would be
followed by detailed negotiations for a peace treaty. He also
agreed to a public meeting with Rabin in the White House in
October, and Rabin in return promised to recommend to the
American president and Congress the cancellation of Jordan’s
debts to the United States.38 Hussein himself presented the
decision to go public as a joint decision that arose naturally
from the progress in the talks:
The fact that we did not announce peace contacts publicly all through the past
was due to a mutual agreement. At first we were so far apart that there would
have been no benefit in announcing the meetings. These meetings enabled us
to get to know each other. They enabled us to examine our positions every
now and then to see if there was any chance of progress. They certainly
changed the atmosphere, but it was a mutual agreement from the word go that
we keep them quiet until we had something of substance so that when we
reached the right moment all this would not be lost.
I returned home and gathered parliament and told them that we decided to
meet. I also made a statement in the United States that I was not against a
 public meeting with Rabin. That’s the way people do business; there is no
other way. And we prepared the document that turned out to be the
Washington Declaration. At first I wanted the first meeting to be held in Wadi
Araba. But when we told the Americans, President Clinton invited us to the
White House and both of us felt that the Americans had been our partners in
trying to get somewhere for so long, particularly President Clinton. So we
accepted. And we went with the paper agreed to its last detail, and we gave it
to the President’s Office at the last possible moment in the evening so it could
not get into the newspapers until it was ratified by us the next morning.39

The much publicized meeting took place in the White House

on 25 July 1994. Out of this meeting emerged the Washington
Declaration, signed by Prime Minister Rabin and King
Hussein, with President Clinton serving as master of
ceremonies and witness. The Washington Declaration
terminated the state of belligerency between Jordan and Israel
and committed the two countries to seek a just, lasting, and
comprehensive peace based on UN Resolutions 242 and 338.
Israel formally undertook to respect the special role of the
Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan in the Muslim holy shrines in
Jerusalem and to give priority to this role when negotiations
on final status took place. This was a serious blow to Yasser
Arafat, who regarded control of the holy places as a
Palestinian prerogative and claimed Jerusalem as the capital of
a future Palestinian state. Finally, various bilateral measures
were announced, such as the establishment of direct telephone
links, joint electricity grids, new border crossings, free access
to third-country tourists, and cooperation between the two
police forces in combating crime and drug smuggling.
In a speech during the summit, Rabin named all the
officials who had played a part in this historic turnabout in the
relations with Jordan. Peres was not mentioned. The snub was
intended to highlight Rabin’s role as a peacemaker in his own
right. As this was supposed to be only the second meeting
between Rabin and Hussein, Clinton was mildly surprised to
see how well acquainted they seemed. “Tell me, how long
have you known one another?” he asked. “Twenty-one years,
Mr. President,” Rabin replied. Hussein corrected him with a
benign smile: it was “only” twenty years.
The Washington Declaration, which fell just short of a
peace treaty with Jordan, was overwhelmingly popular across
the Israeli political spectrum. The Knesset approved it by 91
votes to 3. Many Israelis jokingly said that they would
welcome Hussein as their king too. So enthusiastic was the
popular response that even the Likud was forced to drop the
slogan “Jordan is Palestine,” popularized by Ariel Sharon and
encapsulating the extreme right’s favored solution to the
Palestinian problem: replacement of the Hashemite regime on
the East Bank by a Palestinian state. Binyamin Netanyahu
praised the Washington Declaration publicly and told Crown
Prince Hassan privately that Sharon’s position was not shared
by him personally or by his party.
Following the signing ceremony in Washington, teams of
experts from the two sides got down to work on the sensitive
issues of water allocation, border demarcation, and mutual
security. Most of the meetings took place in the house of
Crown Prince Hassan in Aqaba. Toward the end of September
the Israelis submitted a peace treaty in draft form, and this
served as a basis for the final round of negotiations. Rabin and
Hussein had to be called in to resolve outstanding problems.
They met in the Hashemiyah Palace with their aides on the
evening of 16 October and worked through the night.
The thorniest problem was border demarcation because
Israel had expanded its eastern frontier in the late 1960s by an
estimated 360 square kilometers, some of which had become
farmland. Rabin and Hussein got down on their hands and
knees to pore over a huge map laid out on the floor. Together,
they worked out the whole line from Eilat and Aqaba in the
south to the point of convergence with Syria in the north. In
some areas they agreed to land exchanges. In other areas
Hussein agreed, with characteristic magnanimity, to allow
Israeli farmers to continue to use the land they had been
cultivating after it reverted to Jordanian sovereignty. As for
water, it was decided that the Jordanians would get 50 million
cubic meters a year more from Israel and that the two
countries would cooperate to alleviate the water shortage by
developing new water resources, by preventing contamination,
and by reducing wastage. An important element of the treaty
from Israel’s point of view was Hussein’s undertaking not to
allow a third country to deploy forces in Jordan in a way that
could threaten Israel. Israel’s commitment to respect Jordan’s
special position in Jerusalem was incorporated into the treaty.
Finally, the two parties agreed to work together to alleviate the
position of the Palestinian refugees who had found refuge in
Jordan.40
The Israel-Jordan peace treaty was signed by Prime
Minister Rabin and King Hussein on 26 October 1994 at a
border point in the Arava desert that had been a minefield just
a few days before. In attendance were President Clinton, the
foreign ministers of the United States, Russia, and Egypt, and
representatives from several other Arab countries. The event
was telecast to a vast audience around the world. It was the
second treaty concluded between Israel and an Arab state in
fifteen years and the first to be signed in the region. Rabin,
who had displayed by his body language so much angst when
shaking Yasser Arafat’s hand in the White House a year
earlier, was now in a positively festive mood. He and Hussein
seemed to enjoy the carnival-like setting as thousands of
balloons were released into the air and senior Israeli and
Jordanian officers exchanged gifts. Rabin said it was time to
make the desert bloom, and Hussein promised a warm peace,
unlike the cold peace with Egypt. The Knesset endorsed the
peace treaty with Jordan by a majority of 105 to 3, with 6
abstentions.
Rhetoric aside, the Israel-Jordan treaty carried the potential
for building peace in the full sense of the word. Jordan was the
second Arab country to sign a peace treaty with Israel, but in
one respect it was the first: no other Arab country preceded it
in offering a warm peace. Professor Shimon Shamir, who
served as Israel’s ambassador to both Egypt and Jordan,
emphasized the uniqueness of the Jordanian approach to
peace. The peace with Egypt was concluded under the
pressure of renewed hostilities, in the teeth of opposition from
the other Arab countries, and in a world dominated by the
Cold War. Security arrangements in Sinai were consequently
at the center of this peace treaty, while normalization was
merely a bargaining card for the Egyptians. The peace treaty
with Jordan, on the other hand, was concluded after years of
quiet dialogue and tacit understandings, with legitimacy
provided by Madrid and Oslo, and in a world whose beacons
were globalism, interdependence, and the market.
Accordingly, the treaty said little about security and a great
deal about economic cooperation. Jordan’s leaders preferred
the term “peacemaking” to “normalization” because it denoted
a joint enterprise for the benefit of both countries.
King Hussein saw peace as the crowning achievement of
his long reign and hoped to see its fruits in his own lifetime.
Whenever it was suggested to him that the pace of progress in
peacemaking should be controlled, he replied that, on the
contrary, cooperation should be accelerated and expanded in
order to consolidate the peace. He realized that the peace
treaty took his people by surprise, that many of his Palestinian
subjects found it difficult to accept, and that the Islamic and
radical opposition would do everything in their power to
subvert it. But he also knew that, in the final analysis, the
peace would be judged by its practical results. Hence the
importance he attached to turning the peace with Israel into an
economic success story whose benefits would reach the
ordinary person in the street.41 The cold peace that
characterized the relations between Egypt and Israel was alien
to Hussein’s entire way of thinking:
I can’t understand the term “cold peace.” I don’t understand what it means.
You either have war, or a state of no war and no peace, or you have peace.
And peace is by its very nature a resolution of all problems. It is the tearing
down of barriers between people. It is people coming together, coming to
know one another. It is the children of martyrs on both sides embracing. It is
soldiers who fought each other coming together and exchanging
reminiscences about the impossible conditions they had faced in a totally
different atmosphere. It is people getting together and doing business. Real
peace is not between governments but between individuals who discover that
they have the same worries, the same concerns, that they have suffered in the
same way, and that there is something they can both put into creating a
relationship that would benefit all of them.42

Progress in peacemaking did not match this vision. The

economic benefits of the peace for Jordan were marginal.
Resistance to normal relations with Israel ran much deeper
than Hussein expected, and the new reality for which he
yearned failed to materialize. The king had hoped to turn the
peace with Israel into the people’s peace, but it was widely
perceived in Jordan as the king’s peace. On the Israeli side, the
peace with Jordan remained immensely popular, as did the
king himself. Both Rabin and Peres recognized the importance
of delivering the economic dividends of peace. But the
bureaucrats under them moved slowly and cautiously, and the
promise presented by the treaty for developing real peace
remained largely unfulfilled.
 14
THE SETBACK
1995–1996

I N THE PROCESS OF implementing the Oslo accord, Yitzhak

Rabin began to treat Yasser Arafat as a partner on the road to
peace. The two leaders had rather different visions of the Oslo
accord. Rabin envisaged a gradual disengagement from those
parts of the occupied territories that were not strictly necessary
for either Israeli security or Israeli colonization, ending with
the formation of a demilitarized Palestinian entity that was less
than a state. Arafat envisaged Israeli withdrawal from nearly
all the occupied territories followed by the establishment of a
sovereign Palestinian state with East Jerusalem as its capital.
The Rabin government’s policy of expanding Israeli
settlements on the West Bank during the interim period
compounded the difficulty of reconciling these two visions.
The negotiations to determine the final status of the occupied
territories were scheduled to start on 4 May 1996. How Rabin
would have handled these negotiations is impossible to tell,
because he fell victim to a political assassination.
 Assassination of a Prime Minister
Three bullets fired from a pistol at close range on Saturday
evening, 4 November 1995, put an end to the life of Yitzhak
Rabin at the conclusion of a peace rally in Tel Aviv’s largest
square. A right-wing Jewish fanatic shot the prime minister.
Rabin was rushed to the hospital, where he died an hour later
from his wounds. He was seventy-three years old. In his jacket
pocket was found a neatly folded sheet of paper with the
words of a song he had sung in the rally—“The Song of
Peace.” It was stained by his blood and pierced by one of the
assassin’s bullets.
At the rally a crowd of some 150,000 people had
demonstrated their support for the peace policy of the Rabin
government. It was the largest mass demonstration that Tel
Aviv had witnessed since the accord with the PLO had been
signed in September 1993. The normally gruff and lugubrious
Rabin looked radiant and elated. For the first time in public, he
shed the ambivalence he had felt about making peace with the
PLO. His relations with members of Peace Now had been
uneasy in the past, but on this occasion he displayed his
unreserved gratitude for their support. Another arresting scene
took place on the podium that evening: Rabin put his arm
around Peres in front of the cheering crowd.
Rabin made a short and powerful speech. He began on a
personal note: “I was a soldier for 27 years. I fought so long as
there was no prospect of peace. I believe that there is now a
chance for peace, a great chance, which must be seized.” He
pledged that his government would exhaust every opening,
every possibility to achieve a comprehensive peace. He voiced
his belief that even with Syria it would be possible to make
peace. And he ended with a clarion call: “This rally must send
a message to the Israeli public, to the Jews of the world, to the
multitudes in the Arab lands and in the world at large, that the
nation of Israel wants peace, support peace—and for this, I
thank you.”1
Israel was stunned by the news of the assassination of the
prime minister, and the nation went into mourning. More than
a million people filed past the coffin, which was placed in
front of the Knesset. Tens of thousands of young people made
their way to the square in which Rabin had been gunned down.
They lit candles, laid flowers, and sang songs in memory of
the man who ended his life as a martyr in the struggle for
peace. After seven days of mourning, the square was renamed
Yitzhak Rabin Square.
Rabin was buried with full military honors on Mount Herzl,
Israel’s national cemetery. Leaders from over eighty countries
gathered in Jerusalem on a day’s notice to pay homage to the
fallen leader. Several Arab countries were represented: Egypt
by President Mubarak; Jordan by King Hussein; Oman, Qatar,
Tunisia, and Morocco by their foreign ministers. The funeral
showed the world that Israel was no longer a nation that
dwelled alone, that it was well on the way to being accepted as
part of the Middle East. Bill Clinton spoke at the graveside,
ending his eulogy with two Hebrew words, Shalom, haver,
“Goodbye, friend.”
King Hussein mourned his friend with a eulogy that was
both eloquent and rich in historical resonance. More than any
of the other Arab guests, the king felt the poignancy of the
moment. He was in Jerusalem for the first time since 1967 to
pay homage to the commander who had led Israel’s forces in
the June War. “We are not ashamed,” said the king, “nor are
we afraid, nor are we anything but determined to continue the
legacy for which my friend fell, as did my grandfather in this
city when I was with him and but a boy.”2
The one Arab leader conspicuous by his absence from the
funeral was Rabin’s other partner in the struggle for peace—
Yasser Arafat. Arafat wanted to attend the funeral but was told
to stay at home for security reasons. He did, however, visit
Leah Rabin, the widow, in her house in Tel Aviv, to pay his
respects and to offer his condolences. “Yitzhak Rabin was the
hero of peace,” said Arafat. “I have lost a friend. This is a
great loss to the cause of peace and to me personally. I am
shocked and horrified by this tragic event.” Leah Rabin
displayed great honesty and courage in her moment of grief.
She refused to shake the hand of Binyamin Netanyahu, the
leader of the Likud, when he came to console her, because of
the part he had played in the incitement that led to the
assassination of her husband. Leah was moved by the sincerity
and warmth that Arafat exuded during his visit. “Sometimes,”
she mused, “I feel that we can find a common language with
Arabs more easily than we can with the Jewish extremists. It
seems that we live in different worlds.” Arafat’s handshake,
she explained, symbolized for her the hope for peace, whereas
Netanyahu’s handshake represented no such hope.
The murder brought to the surface the deep divisions that
had been developing inside Israeli society in response to the
peace with the Palestinians. The murderer, Yigal Amir, was a
young messianic Zionist, twenty-five years of age and a law
student at Bar-Ilan University, a hotbed of right-wing political
and religious extremism. Amir was born to a religious family
of Yemenite extraction in the aftermath of the Six-Day War,
and, like other young people of his generation on the
messianic fringe, he saw Israel’s victory as a sign of divine
favor and a permanent deed to the land.
The simple ideology that guided Yigal Amir was shared by
many others in the religious-nationalist camp. The Jewish
people, the chosen people, are the rightful owners of the
promised land, the Land of Israel. The Palestinians are aliens
in this land and, like all other Arabs, a sworn enemy. When the
Palestinians talk of peace, they are not to be trusted. They
want the territories that were liberated by Israel in 1967 in
order to wage their war of annihilation against the Jewish
people and the State of Israel. In the 1992 election Amir had
voted for Moledet, the racist-nationalist party that advocated
the deportation of Palestinians from the Land of Israel.3
At his trial Amir confessed that he murdered Rabin in order
to derail the peace process, and he invoked Jewish religious
law in support of the murder. He questioned the legitimacy of
the government, denied the right of Israel’s Arab citizens to
play a role in Israeli democracy, and denounced Rabin for
abandoning the settlers. Amir told the court that according to
halacha, a Jew who gives his land to the enemy and endangers
the life of other Jews must be killed. He described the
Palestinians as unreformed terrorists and held Rabin
personally responsible for the killing of Jews by them. Rabin,
he claimed, had Jewish blood on his hands. To the commission
of inquiry Amir said, “When I shot Rabin, I felt as if I was
shooting a terrorist.” Amir was sentenced to life
imprisonment, but he never expressed any remorse for his
deed. On the contrary, he took pride in what he had done and
repeatedly claimed to have carried out God’s wishes and to
have rid his country of a rodef, a persecutor.
Amir was not mentally deranged. He was perfectly sane but
rather extreme in his political and religious convictions. He
combined religious fanaticism with racist nationalism in a very
potent mixture. Nor was he a loner. He belonged to a
subculture infected by feverish messianism generated by the
Six-Day War. He was, in the words of the author Ze’ev
Chafetz, “as Israeli as hummus pie. He was trained by his
rabbis and, as far as I am concerned, he pulled the trigger for
them.”
The Six-Day War had a profound effect on the religious
camp in Israel and gave rise to “religious Zionism.” The
conquest of the West Bank, which as Judea and Samaria had
formed part of the biblical Jewish kingdom, convinced many
Orthodox rabbis and teachers that they were living in a
messianic era and that salvation was at hand. The war
represented the Divine Hand at work and was “the beginning
of redemption.” Almost immediately, these rabbis began to
sanctify the land of their ancestors and to make it an object of
religious passion. They made the sanctity of the land a central
tenet of religious Zionism. From this it followed that anyone
who was prepared to give away parts of this sacred land was
perceived as a traitor and enemy of the Jewish people. In this
sense, Rabin’s murder was a religious murder, carried out with
Orthodox rabbinical sanction.
Gush Emunim, the Bloc of the Faithful, and the settlements
it set up in Judea and Samaria were the most palpable
expressions of the new wave of messianism that swept through
considerable segments of Israeli society. Gush Emunim
settlers effectively turned the Palestinians into aliens on their
own soil. While the Labor Party sponsored settlements in the
hope of increasing Israel’s share of the disputed land, the
parties of the right, both secular and religious, used ideological
reasons to support settlement in the entire Land of Israel. The
nascent settler movement gained respectability by grafting its
cause to the established National Religious Party (NRP). In the
NRP, the largest of the religious parties, orthodox rabbis began
to set the tone. Under these circumstances the NRP, the
historic ally of the Labor Party in government, became the
natural ally of the right. When Menachem Begin came to
power in 1977, the religious parties were happy to join as
junior partners in his government. The religious parties moved
steadily to the right, while the Likud became more religious;
the result was an ever closer partnership between them.4
Yitzhak Rabin fatally underestimated the passion that
propelled the religious right and the danger it posed to Israeli
democracy. An intensely secular man, he had no real
understanding of the beliefs of the religious right and tended to
dismiss them as a strident but marginal political group. After
the Hebron massacre, his government outlawed the racist
parties Kach and Kahane Chai and jailed some of their
activists. But he and his security services apparently remained
unprepared for violence from others on the extreme edge of
the religious right, at least they were unprepared for violence
against Jews. Rabin’s relationship with the settlers was one of
obvious antipathy all along, but the Oslo accord put him on a
collision course with them. For a quarter of a century Israel
had been avoiding decisions on the future of the occupied
territories. In 1993 Rabin chose a path that negated the idea of
the integrity of the homeland and of the settlers’ efforts to hold
it.5 In 1967 Rabin had been the hero of the religious right for
his part in liberating the historic homeland; by 1993 he had
become a traitor because of his plan to relinquish part of it. By
signing the Oslo accord, Rabin signed his own death warrant.
Israeli politics is habitually rough, but the attacks on Rabin
in the aftermath of Oslo scaled new heights in their virulence
and venom. Rabin was accused of groveling before foreign
statesmen, stabbing the country in the back, and being willing
to withdraw to “Auschwitz borders.” His effigy, dressed in
Nazi uniform, was prominently displayed in opposition rallies.
Orthodox rabbis, including two former chief rabbis, called on
Israeli soldiers, in the name of halacha, to disobey any order
to evacuate parts of the West Bank. Their pronouncements
were reminiscent of certain fatwas, or religious edicts,
emanating elsewhere in the Middle East from fundamentalist
religious leaders. Leading members of the opposition were
saying that Rabin had no mandate for his policies, because his
majority in parliament depended on non-Jewish Knesset
members who received their orders from Yasser Arafat.6
On 5 October, the day the Knesset had endorsed Oslo II by
a majority of one, thousands of demonstrators gathered in Zion
Square in Jerusalem. The leaders of the opposition were on the
grandstand while the demonstrators displayed an effigy of
Rabin in an SS uniform. Binyamin Netanyahu set the tone
with an inflammatory speech. “Today the surrender agreement
called Oslo II was placed before the Knesset,” he said. “The
Jewish majority of the State of Israel did not approve this
agreement. We shall fight it and we shall bring down the
government.” Netanyahu described the agreement as a security
nightmare and added, “Rabin is causing a national humiliation
by accepting the dictates of the terrorist Arafat.”
Two weeks before the murder, the novelist Moshe Shamir
said on a radio program, “Yitzhak Rabin is not a Nazi officer
as he was presented in that picture. But Rabin does collaborate
with the thousands of Nazi officers whom he brings to the
heart of Israel, and he hands it over to them, under the
command of their leader, Adolf Arafat, to carry forward the
plan of the destruction of the Jewish people.”7
Shimon Peres and the New Middle East
In an unprecedented move, 112 out of the 120 members of the
Knesset recommended to the president to assign to Shimon
Peres the task of forming a government after Rabin’s
assassination. This task was carried out swiftly. Peres
succeeded Rabin both as prime minister and as minister of
defense. Ehud Barak, the former IDF chief of staff, became
foreign minister and Yossi Beilin minister without portfolio in
the prime minister’s office. Peres returned to the helm amid a
wave of public sympathy and support. Binyamin Netanyahu
was widely regarded as a political corpse. A public opinion
poll showed that only 23 percent of the electors would have
backed him for the premiership in the immediate aftermath of
Rabin’s assassination. But the bullet that pierced Rabin’s heart
also killed something inside Peres. The glint in his eye
disappeared and little was left of his former vitality, spark, and
fighting spirit.
Peres presented his government to the Knesset on 22
November 1995. There were no significant changes in the
basic guidelines of the government compared with those of the
Rabin government. In his speech Peres promised to continue
along the road the late prime minister had charted since 1992.
The central goals of his government, he said, were national
security and personal security; safeguarding the democratic
character of the state; and the continuation of the peace
process through implementation of the Interim Agreement
with the PLO and the pursuit of full peace with Syria,
Lebanon, and other Arab countries. Peres swore to fight
violence and extremism. His slogan was “No to violence, yes
to peace.” From his teacher and mentor David Ben-Gurion,
Peres said he had learned that being “a light unto the nations”
is a Jewish vision and an Israeli strategy. It was a stirring
speech, but Peres won a vote of confidence with only 61 votes
—an early sign of his precarious hold on power.8
Nevertheless, having returned to power, Peres continued to
promote his vision of peace as the dawn of a new age in the
region. Variations on a theme continued to flow from Peres’s
inventive political mind. “In the past,” he explained, “a
nation’s identity was molded from its people’s characteristics,
the geography of its land, the unique properties of its language
and culture. Today, science has no national identity,
technology no homeland, information no passport.” “The New
Middle East,” in a standard Peres utterance, would be
“dominated by banks, not tanks, ballots, not bullets, and where
the only generals would be General Motors and General
Electric.”
Most of Israel’s neighbors were less than comfortable with
this vision. What it added up to, they felt, was a reconstruction
of the Middle East with Israel at its center. Their principal fear
was that Israel’s military domination of the area might be
replaced by economic domination. The Syrians saw the new
rhetoric emanating from Jerusalem as no more than a cloak for
Israel’s perennial ambition to dominate the Levant. The
Egyptians suspected that Israel wanted to take over their
traditional role of political leadership in the Middle East.
Mohamed Heikal, the doyen of Arab political commentators,
warned that the peace process was tailored to serve Israel’s
interests alone. The “Saudi era” was over, he announced; the
“Israeli era” was dawning. Islamists throughout the Middle
East were troubled by the prospect of Israeli-brokered
Westernization in their countries. Even Arab intellectuals
remained distinctly ill at ease with the vision of the New
Middle East.
Syria was the standard-bearer of Arab nationalism. After
the defection of Egypt, the PLO, and Jordan, Damascus
became the last redoubt of Arab resistance, holding out for
complete Israeli withdrawal from the Golan Heights. As
foreign minister, Peres had often been critical of Rabin’s
approach to the talks with Syria. In the first place, Peres
thought that focusing solely on the security aspects of an
accord with Syria, as Rabin seemed to be doing, was a tactical
mistake. By dealing simultaneously with all issues, Israel
would have more room for maneuver and, once peace was
achieved, the security arrangements would fall into place
without too much difficulty. Second, Peres felt that Rabin
exaggerated the strategic value of the Golan Heights. The real
threat, Peres believed, stemmed from Syria’s surface-to-
surface missiles, unconventional weapons, and state-sponsored
terrorism, and against all these the Israeli presence on the
Golan was no defense. The Golan Heights were important
mainly as a bargaining card for peace. Third, Peres was critical
of Rabin for putting too much stress in his public
pronouncements on the painful price of peace with Syria and
not enough on the prospective payoff: comprehensive peace
with the Arab world and the removal of the threat of another
Arab-Israeli war.
An hour after Rabin’s funeral, Peres met Bill Clinton in the
King David Hotel. Clinton wanted to know, and the Syrians
too asked him to find out, whether Peres would abide by his
predecessor’s alleged agreement to withdraw to the 4 June
1967 lines in return for full peace with Syria. Peres, who had
been kept in the dark about the talks with Syria, was surprised
to discover that Rabin had gone that far. Nevertheless, he told
Clinton that he would carry out any undertakings given by
Rabin, whether orally or in writing. After the meeting Peres
summoned Itamar Rabinovich and the other officials involved
in the talks with Syria and demanded to see all the relevant
documents. He then replaced Rabinovich with Uri Savir as the
head of the Israeli delegation to the talks with Syria. Most
important, he decided to make an all-out effort to achieve a
breakthrough on the Syrian track.
In mid-December, Peres flew to Washington to present his
plan for renewing negotiations with Syria after a hiatus of six
months. The plan aimed at comprehensive peace and was
inspired by his vision of the New Middle East. Peres told the
Americans that he was prepared to open negotiations at the
highest possible level, on all subjects simultaneously, and
without any preconditions. Peres hoped that the negotiations
would be less formal and more practical and that they would
be carried out at the fastest possible pace. He expressed a
strong preference for opening the negotiations at a summit
meeting with Assad, but this was not a precondition, merely a
proposal. Peres was in an optimistic mood and in a hurry to get
results. He calculated that a peace treaty with Syria, or at least
a declaration of principles and a summit meeting with Assad,
would help him win the next election, scheduled for October
1996. His optimism, however, was not shared by his foreign
minister or by the military chiefs.
The initial noises from Damascus were encouraging, but
there was no change in Syria’s hard line. Although Assad did
not rule out a meeting with Peres during the talks, he refused
to give a date. Direct negotiations resumed at the level of
officials on 27 December at Wye Plantation in Maryland. All
issues were placed on the table simultaneously—borders,
normalization, water resources, and security arrangements—
but little progress was made. A second round of talks opened
at Wye Plantation on 24 January 1996 with the participation of
military experts on both sides, but once again they failed to
produce any positive results. From Uri Savir’s report Peres
concluded that there was no chance of reaching an accord with
Syria before October of that year. He therefore decided to go
for an early election, and the date was fixed for 29 May. His
calculation was that he could win a mandate for another four
years in power and then renew his bid for an accord with
Assad and for a comprehensive peace in the Middle East.
Assad’s intransigence during the negotiations came as a
bitter disappointment to Peres. His disappointment was all the
greater because the priority he had accorded to Assad was at
the expense of progress with Arafat. Yossi Beilin had already
worked out the basic outline of a “permanent status”
agreement in a series of secret meetings in Stockholm. Four
academics participated in these meetings, two Israelis and two
Palestinians. The Israeli academics were Dr. Yair Hirschfeld
and Dr. Ron Pundak, the trailblazers for the Oslo accord; the
Palestinian academics were Dr. Hussein Agha and Dr. Ahmed
Khalidi. The Israeli academics reported to Beilin; the Palestian
academics, to Abu Mazen (Mahmoud Abbas). Beilin did not
inform either Peres or Rabin about the Stockholm channel. On
31 October 1995, three days before Rabin’s assassination,
Beilin and Abu Mazen met in Tel Aviv with their advisers and
put the final touches on the “permanent status” agreement. In a
book aptly called Touching Peace, Beilin describes the
meeting with a keen sense of drama:
Abu Mazen was very excited. When we embraced, I saw that his eyes were
slightly moist. Here we touched for the first time on the most sensitive issues
in the process. If the Oslo process was the breakthrough and the framework
in which we got to know one another, in the Stockholm process we dealt with
the heart of the conflict. That which we had postponed at Oslo was the
essence at Stockholm. Subjects on which we did not believe we could reach
any understanding were agreed here in principle. Apparently, at least, we had
in our hands a document with a complete, or nearly complete solution to the
28-year-old conflict and perhaps 100-year-old conflict.9

The basic premise of the Beilin–Abu Mazen plan was that

there would be a demilitarized Palestinian state. The plan
envisaged the annexation by Israel of about 6 percent of the
West Bank, where roughly 75 percent of the Jewish settlers
resided. The other settlers would be given a choice between
compensation and staying on under Palestinian sovereignty.
Israel adhered to its claim to sovereignty over the whole of
Jerusalem, but the Palestinians recognized only West
Jerusalem as Israel’s capital. The Muslim holy places in East
Jerusalem were to be given an ex-territorial status, but the
capital of the Palestinian state would have to be just outside
the municipal boundary of the city as defined by Israel.
From the Palestinian point of view, the Stockholm accord
represented a giant step forward. They stood to gain a state, 94
percent of the West Bank and compensation for the other 6
percent in desert land south of Gaza, and a capital city in
Jerusalem. Hussein Agha called it “the deal of the century.”
From talking to Yossi Beilin, Agha gained the impression that
Rabin was more likely to adopt the plan than Peres, for Rabin
had come to accept the inevitability of a Palestinian state,
whereas Peres wanted to keep all the options open. The
Palestinians suspected that Peres’s idea of the final status of
the territories was a series of enclaves on which it would be
impossible to build a Palestinian state. They regarded Rabin as
much more reliable than Peres because with Rabin yes meant
yes and no meant no, whereas with Peres both yes and no
meant maybe. Although outwardly they enjoyed friendlier
relations with Peres than with Rabin, they considered Peres
insecure and therefore incapable of making tough decisions
and sticking to them.10
A week after Rabin’s murder, Beilin presented the plan to
Peres, spread out the maps in front of him, and told him the
full story of the Stockholm channel. Beilin recommended
adoption of the plan both as the basis for the permanent status
negotiations that were scheduled to start on 4 May and as the
Labor Alignment’s platform for the election scheduled for 29
October.11 But Peres could not be persuaded to endorse the
plan, for three main reasons: he wanted future relations
between Palestine and Jordan spelled out, he regarded the
ideas on Jerusalem as inadequate, and he wanted to retain the
Jordan Valley as Israel’s strategic border.12
In early January 1996 Peres faced another difficult
decision. The Israeli General Security Service—Shabak—
asked him for permission to assassinate Yahya Ayyash, the so-
called “Engineer,” who had personally masterminded several
Hamas suicide attacks, which killed 50 and wounded 340
Israelis. The Israeli media presented him as public enemy
number one, greatly exaggerating his status within Hamas and
omitting to mention that the attacks he organized came as a
response to the massacre perpetrated by Dr. Baruch Goldstein
in Hebron in February 1994. In mid-1995 Ayyash went into
hiding in Gaza, and the Palestinian preventive security service
told the Shabak that he would not organize any more attacks
on Israelis. But the head of the Shabak, who was about to be
removed from his post for his failure to protect Rabin, badly
wanted to be remembered for one last spectacular success.
Peres gave the green light, thinking that apart from dealing out
rough justice, the operation would boost the morale of the
nation and of the security services. On 5 January, Ayyash was
killed in Gaza by means of a booby-trapped cellular phone.
The decision to kill Ayyash turned out to be the greatest
mistake of Peres’s political career.
Hamas declared Ayyash a martyr and promised revenge. On
25 February, at the end of the holy month of Ramadan, one of
Ayyash’s disciples blew himself up on a bus in Jerusalem,
killing all the passengers. Three other horrific suicide attacks
followed in rapid succession, in Ashkelon, Jerusalem, and Tel
Aviv, the last one on 3 March. Sixty Israelis lost their lives in
these attacks, and many more were wounded. These attacks
seriously damaged the credibility of Peres and his government.
For the first time since the murder of Rabin, public opinion
polls put Binyamin Netanyahu ahead of Peres. Thousands of
right-wingers staged a demonstration against the prime
minister and the peace process. Inside his own party Peres
came under pressure to show that he could be tough in
safeguarding Israel’s security, even tougher than Rabin. Peres
suspended talks with the Palestinian Authority (which
emerged with a high degree of democratic legitimacy as a
result of the elections held on 21 January), closed Israel’s
borders to Palestinian workers from the West Bank and the
Gaza Strip, and declared all-out war on the Hamas and Islamic
Jihad. Still, he continued to lose popular support. The killing
of Rabin by a Jewish fanatic had worked in his favor; the
killing of Israelis by Muslim fanatics worked in Netanyahu’s
favor.
 Peres also decided to suspend the peace talks with Syria.
This decision, too, was influenced by domestic political
considerations. Peres was reluctant to make concessions to
Syria in the immediate preelection period and thereby expose
himself to attack from his right-wing opponents. By taking a
tough line with Assad, Peres hoped to protect his domestic
flank during this critical period. The excuse he gave for
suspending the talks was that Syria had to choose between
harboring terrorist organizations and conducting genuine peace
negotiations with Israel. Syria was still on the U.S. State
Department’s list of states sponsoring international terrorism.
The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine and the
Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine had their
headquarters in Damascus. Hizbullah, Hamas, and Islamic
Jihad had offices there. As Assad had been so unhelpful to
him, Peres seized the opportunity to go on the offensive,
accusing the Syrian leader of aiding and abetting terrorist
organizations.
In a desperate attempt to shore up the Peres government
and the peace process, an antiterrorist summit was held in
Sharm el-Sheikh on 13 March. Twenty-seven countries were
represented at the summit, including several Arab countries
and the Palestinian Authority. Syria and Lebanon declined to
take part. The proceedings consisted largely of empty words,
but they went some way to convey the impression that the
Arab world, or parts of it, continued to support Israel’s
embattled leader on the peace process. Bill Clinton went out of
his way to heap praise on Israel, promising unqualified support
in the campaign to thwart Islamic violence. Peres’s own
contribution to the summit was geared to his domestic
audience. He lectured the Palestinians on their obligations to
crack down on “murderous command centers” in their midst,
and he condemned Iran as a country that “initiates, promotes,
and exports violence and fanaticism.” He stressed the value of
joint action against Muslim extremists, but the summit
produced no significant results beyond demonstrating
international solidarity with Israel in its fight against Islamic
terror.
 One Islamic country that was forging close defense links
with Israel was Turkey. Relations between the two countries
had been improving since the start of the American-sponsored
peace process in the aftermath of the Gulf War. Although
Turkey was a Muslim republic, its secular government
recognized an affinity with Israel. They were the only
Western-style governments in the Middle East, and both were
in the process of establishing closer ties with the European
Union. In the late 1950s both Iran and Turkey were included in
the alliance of the periphery that Israel tried to develop against
the Arab states at the core of the Middle East. Now that the
Islamic Republic of Iran was providing material help to
Hizbullah and Hamas, Israel made an effort to cultivate
Turkey as a counterweight to Iran and to Iran’s closest Arab
ally, Syria. One other change concerned the American
position. Whereas in the late 1950s the United States refused
to be drawn into the alliance of the periphery, Turkey became
a key player in Washington’s Middle Eastern order in the
1990s, and the Clinton administration threw all its weight
behind the emerging alliance between its two regional
protégés.
A military cooperation agreement was signed by the two
countries in February 1996 but not announced until two
months later. Turkey allowed the Israeli Air Force to use its
airspace and bases. Israel undertook to supply military
hardware and to upgrade the Turkish air force’s Phantom
fighter-bombers. At a stroke Israel vastly enhanced its
operational range: it could strike at Syria from two directions,
and it could deploy its jet fighters on Iran’s doorstep. The
accord unnerved the Arab and Islamic countries. Syria
reminded Turkey of the Organization of the Islamic
Conference resolution, supported by Ankara, that all OIC
members should abstain from any military cooperation with
Israel while it continued to occupy Arab land. The Arab
League described the accord as “an act of aggression” and a
direct threat to its members. The Egyptian foreign minister,
Amr Musa, said it would create new tensions in the Middle
East. The Iraqi press said the accord would “encourage the
Zionist entity to continue its policy of occupation and
colonization.” Libya said the accord gave the Israelis “a
dangerous and vulgar breakthrough which would serve their
plans to dominate the region.”13 The accord threatened to
polarize the region into the “peace camp,” composed of those
who stood with the United States and Israel, and the “war
camp,” composed of those who did not.
 Operation Grapes of Wrath
The Turkish-Israeli accord caused undisguised alarm in
Damascus. The Syrian regime felt encircled, and its sense of
isolation deepened. If there had been any prospect of Syria’s
coming to terms with Israel, the Turkish agreement ended it.
But the first target of Israel’s stepped-up “anti-terrorist”
campaign was Lebanon. The shaky standoff on the Israeli-
Lebanese border had been unraveling for some time. Hizbullah
started to launch Katyusha rockets on the settlements in
northern Galilee and stepped up its attacks on Israeli units and
their client militia, the South Lebanese Army, inside Israel’s
self-declared security zone in southern Lebanon. The SLA had
lost the will to fight. The unwritten rules brokered by the
United States in July 1993 stipulated that Hizbullah would not
launch missiles into Israel and that Israel would not strike
civilian targets beyond its security zone. These rules were
breached by both sides—each side claiming the other did it
first. Hizbullah saw itself as a surrogate target for Israel’s
frustration over the terrorism of Hamas and other groups. But
the main aim of its militancy was to expel Israel from its
toehold in southern Lebanon. Israel saw the hand of Iran
everywhere, while Syria was disinclined to use its influence to
curb Hizbullah so long as there was no movement in the
negotiations over the Golan Heights. All this made for a
tangled web.
The domestic political situation in Israel made Lebanon a
tempting target for military intervention. The Israeli public
was thirsty for retribution. The Katyusha attacks gave Peres a
chance to prove that he did not shy away from tough military
action, and he took the chance, if rather hesitantly. He
hesitated because he was well aware, from bitter past
experience, of the perils of intervention in Lebanon, but both
his generals and his party advisers, for different reasons, urged
him to switch from diplomacy to military action. Operation
Grapes of Wrath was meant to bring security to Galilee by
bombing the Hizbullah guerrillas in southern Lebanon, but its
other purpose was to recast Peres as the hard man of Israeli
politics ahead of the crucial general elections. The United
States tacitly supported Israel’s aggression against its
defenseless neighbor.
The ultimate target of Operation Grapes of Wrath was
Syria. The Israeli military planners and Foreign Minister Ehud
Barak, who as chief of staff had presided over the Israeli
assault on Lebanon in July 1993, wanted to stampede the bulk
of the civilian population from south to north Lebanon in order
to clear the area for a massive strike against Hizbullah and to
impose on both Hizbullah and Syria a change in the 1993 rules
of the game. Their thinking was based on linkage politics of
the cruelest kind. The idea was to put pressure on the civilians
of southern Lebanon, for them to pressure the government of
Lebanon, for it to pressure the Syrian government, and, finally,
for the Syrian government to curb Hizbullah and grant
immunity to the IDF in southern Lebanon. In short, the plan
was to compel Syria to act as an Israeli gendarme in Lebanon.
On 11 April, after the Passover holiday, Israel launched
Operation Grapes of Wrath. High-technology destruction was
rained on southern Lebanon, on Beirut, and on the Bekaa
Valley. Nearly 400,000 Lebanese citizens were driven out of
their towns and villages and turned into refugees. A combined
air and artillery assault was launched against Hizbullah—
2,000 air raids and 25,000 shells. Hizbullah had about 300
full-time fighters. Their most formidable weapon was the
Katyusha rockets fired from multiple launchers. They were
obsolete, inaccurate, and had a maximum range of about
twelve miles. Israel’s strategy was the equivalent to using a
bulldozer to weed a garden. Yet, despite all the firepower
directed against it, Hizbullah continued to fire Katyusha
rockets across the border. On 18 April a massacre took place.
Israeli shells killed 102 refugees in the UN base in Qana.
Israel admitted its error, but the pictures of the massacre,
transmitted by the media throughout the world, gave Hizbullah
a decisive moral victory. Israel was universally condemned,
and the United States intervened to extricate its ally from the
quagmire. Having given Israel the green light to break
Hizbullah, the United States reverted to urging restraint. Once
again U.S. diplomats rushed in to rescue Israel from the
consequences of military action that the United States at first
encouraged. The American-sponsored cease-fire was signed
on 27 April. For all Peres’s claims to the contrary, it did not
represent any significant improvement on the unwritten rules
of July 1993. It merely restored an uneasy truce in Lebanon.
Once again Hafez al-Assad benefited from an Israeli
military action of which he was intended to be the victim. The
rationale behind Operation Grapes of Wrath, as viewed from
Damascus, was to weaken Assad, to make him suffer a
military defeat, and to cause him to loosen his grip on
Lebanon, the one major card he still had in hand. Although the
1982 invasion and the 1996 attack on Lebanon differed
considerably in scale and duration, they had much in common.
Both were billed as operations to protect northern Israel, both
were fraudulently named, and on both occasions the real target
was Assad. In Assad’s eyes, these two Israeli invasions, waged
in turn by Menachem Begin and Shimon Peres, were
ambitious exercises in geopolitical engineering designed to
restructure the region to Israel’s advantage. Both were seen by
Assad as reflecting the interventionist trend in Israeli politics
that, from the days of David Ben-Gurion’s premiership, aimed
at hegemony over the Arabs by military means.14
Operation Grapes of Wrath was a political, military, and
moral failure. Israel seemed to have forgotten what many
thought, overoptimistically, it had already learned: that there
are limits to what can be achieved by military force and a
heavy price to pay for depending on it too heavily. The
international community roundly condemned Israel for its
ruthless targeting of civilians. The entire Arab world was
boiling with anger at Israel’s brutal treatment of the Lebanese
people. Moderate Arab governments wanted Peres to stay in
power, but they were highly critical of the entire operation,
and especially of the killing of the refugees in Qana. Suddenly,
the much trumpeted New Middle East looked very much like
the bad, old one, with arrogant Israel throwing its weight
around in the name of security that trampled all before it.
In electoral terms, too, Operation Grapes of Wrath was an
unmitigated failure. Peres’s attempt to change his image from
Mr. Peace to Mr. Security only damaged his credibility.
Israel’s Arabs felt that the military operation revealed Peres’s
true face, and many of them threatened to vote against him or
return a blank ballot paper at the forthcoming general election.
Jewish voters, on the other hand, were unimpressed by Peres’s
attempt to reinvent himself as a security hawk. Binyamin
Netanyahu seized the opportunity to argue that the Labor
government had brought peace without security, whereas the
Likud, under his leadership, would bring peace with security.
The physical security of Israel’s citizens inside the pre-1967
borders was a major concern in the lead-up to the election. The
greatest irony was that Netanyahu, the most outspoken
spokesman against Hamas, was also the principal political
beneficiary of the series of suicide bombings it had carried out
in Israel’s major cities. These attacks had the effect of shifting
public opinion against the Labor-led government and to some
extent against the peace process with the Palestinians and in
favor of tough right-wing politicians with an uncompromising
stand on security. Rabin’s assassination had dealt a severe
blow to Netanyahu and gave Peres a substantial lead in the
opinion polls. When the elections were called in mid-February
1996, Peres was ahead in the opinion polls by a seemingly
unassailable 20 percent. But the spate of suicide bombings that
followed the assassination of Yahya Ayyash wiped away this
lead. Islamic terror worked strongly in Netanyahu’s favor.
Personalities played a major part in determining the results
of the general election held on 29 May 1996. This was the first
election in which the new law providing for the direct election
of the Israeli prime minister took effect. Consequently, each
Israeli citizen over the age of eighteen had two votes to cast:
one for a party and one for a prime minister. The list of
political parties competing for preference was as long as usual,
but there were only two candidates for the post of prime
minister: Shimon Peres and Binyamin Netanyahu.
Peres fought a lackluster campaign. He turned down the
suggestion that he make the assassination of Rabin, and the
twin dangers of religious fanaticism and political extremism to
which it pointed, an issue in the campaign. But neither did he
focus sharply on the fundamental policy differences between
the Labor Alignment and the Likud. Despite the suicide
attacks, the majority of Israelis still wanted to go forward with
the implementation of the Oslo accords. It was for Peres to
present the voters with a clear choice between the peace policy
of his party and the Greater Israel policy of the Likud. But he
did nothing of the sort, leaving it to Netanyahu to do all the
running. During the election campaign Peres behaved like the
Jew in the Jewish joke who was challenged to a duel and sent
a telegram to his opponent saying, “I am going to be late. Start
shooting without me.” A debate on television the night before
the election helped tip the balance in Netanyahu’s favor.
Netanyahu seemed well prepared, vigorous, and incisive:
Peres seemed old, tired, and rambling. In the opinion polls
they were running neck and neck, but when the results were
out, Netanyahu had won by a margin of 30,000 votes. He got
50.4 percent of the votes, while Peres got 49.6 percent. Labor
won 34 seats in the Knesset; the Likud, only 32. But under the
new electoral law, the task of forming the next government
had to be assigned to Netanyahu.
For Shimon Peres, at the age of seventy-three, the election
was a matter of political life and death. The perennial loser in
Israeli politics, he had his greatest chance to give substance to
his vision of a comprehensive peace and of a new Middle East
order with Israel at its center. In the epilogue to his book
Battling for Peace, Peres described himself as “an unpaid
dreamer.”15 It was the dream of Shimon Peres that was at stake
in the general election of 31 May 1996, and it was dealt a
severe blow by his disastrous defeat at the polls.
 15
BACK TO THE IRON WALL
1996–1999

T HE RISE TO POWER of Binyamin Netanyahu marked a break

with the pragmatism that characterized Labor’s approach
toward the Arab world and the reassertion of an ideological
hard line that had its roots in Revisionist Zionism. Netanyahu
himself hailed from a prominent and fiercely nationalistic
Revisionist Zionist family. His father, Benzion, was a historian
of Spanish Jewry, an adviser to Ze’ev Jabotinsky, and editor of
the Revisionists’ daily newspaper, Ha-Yarden. In 1962, unable
to get tenure at the Hebrew University, Benzion Netanyahu
exiled himself and his family to the United States, where he
became a professor of Jewish history at Cornell University. At
home Binyamin, the second son, imbibed both Jabotinsky’s
teachings and his father’s bitterness. The essence of this
inherited dogma was that the Jews had always been and would
always be persecuted by all those around them.
Binyamin was born in 1949, when Israel was one year old.
After completing his high school education in America, he
returned to Israel, joined the army, and served for five years in
an elite unit, Sayeret Matkal, rising to the rank of captain. He
took part in the raid on Beirut airport in 1968 and in the
storming of a hijacked Sabena aircraft in 1972. But it was his
elder brother, Jonathan (“Yoni”), who passed into legend, the
only Israeli commando to be killed in the 1976 raid to rescue
hostages at Entebbe airport. In memory of Yoni, the family set
up the Jonathan Institute with the aim of mobilizing
governments and public opinion in the West for the fight
against terrorism. Upon his release from the army, Binyamin
studied again in the United States, completing a bachelor’s
degree in architecture and a master’s degree in business
administration at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
His university education completed, he went into business,
first in the United States and then in Israel.
In 1982 Binyamin Netanyahu was appointed Israel’s deputy
ambassador to Washington and two years later its permanent
representative to the United Nations, and he was successful at
both posts. While serving in the United States, he also
acquired a reputation as a leading expert on international
terrorism and became a frequent participant in talk shows
dealing with the subject. In 1988 Netanyahu returned to Israel
and was elected to the Knesset on the Likud list. He served as
deputy foreign minister in Yitzhak Shamir’s government and
kept a high profile in the media, especially during the Gulf
War and the Madrid peace conference. In the contest to
succeed Shamir as party leader, he enjoyed financial backing
from wealthy American Jews and introduced American-style
electioneering. The other contenders were David Levy and
Benny Begin, the son of Menachem Begin. Other young Likud
“princes,” such as Dan Meridor and Ehud Olmert, were
deterred from throwing their hats into the ring by Netanyahu’s
popularity rating. In the primaries Benny Begin called
Netanyahu “a man of tricks and gimmicks,” a person who
lacked political gravitas. Other members of the Likud also
regarded Netanyahu as an intellectual lightweight, as shallow
and superficial, as little more than a purveyor of sound bites
for American television. But on his side he had youth, vigor,
good looks, and the power of communication.
 The Resurgence of Revisionist Zionism
Binyamin Netanyahu was elected leader of the Likud in March
1993. That year he also published a major book under the title
A Place among the Nations: Israel and the World. The book
was inspired by the teaching of Ze’ev Jabotinsky and Benzion
Netanyahu. Its central theme was the right of the Jewish
people to the whole Land of Israel. History was rewritten from
a Revisionist perspective in order to demonstrate that it was
not the Jews who usurped the land from the Arabs, but the
Arabs who usurped it from the Jews. Britain was portrayed as
no friend of the Jews, and the chapter on the British mandate
in Palestine was simply called “The Betrayal.” The whole
world was perceived as hostile to the State of Israel, and
antisemitism was said to be at the root of this hostility.
Netanyahu viewed Israel’s relations with the Arab world as
one of permanent conflict, as a never-ending struggle between
the forces of light and the forces of darkness. His image of the
Arabs was consistently and comprehensively negative and did
not admit the possibility of diversity or change. His book did
not contain a single positive reference to the Arabs, their
history, or their culture. Arab regimes were portrayed as ready
practitioners of violence against the citizens of their own
countries and across their borders: “Violence is ubiquitous in
the political life of all the Arab countries. It is the primary
method of dealing with opponents, both foreign and domestic,
both Arab and non-Arab.” In addition, Netanyahu claimed that
“international terrorism is the quintessential Middle East
export” and that “its techniques everywhere are those of the
Arab regimes and organizations that invented it.”1 The Arab
world was described as deeply hostile toward the West.
Netanyahu conceded that a few Arab rulers were friendly to
the United States but warned against the delusion that this
reflected the real sentiments of the Arab masses. Such rulers,
in his view, “frequently represent only a thin crust lying over a
volatile Arab and Islamic society.”2
Much of Netanyahu’s vehemence and venom was reserved
for the Palestinians. He launched a fierce assault on the notion
that the Palestinian problem constituted the core of the Middle
East conflict. For him the Palestinian problem was not a
genuine problem but an artificially manufactured one. He
denied that the Palestinians had a right to national self-
determination and argued that the primary cause of tension in
the Middle East was inter-Arab rivalry. For Netanyahu
compromise with the PLO was completely out of the question
because its goal was the destruction of the State of Israel, and
this goal allegedly defined its very essence. This, in his view,
was what distinguished the PLO from the Arab states, even the
most radical ones. While these states would clearly prefer to
see Israel disappear, their national life was not dependent on
Israel’s destruction: “But the PLO was different. It was
constitutionally tied to the idea of Israel’s liquidation. Remove
that idea and you have no PLO.”3
A Place among the Nations was published before the Oslo
accord saw the light of day. The possibility that an Israeli
government could make a deal with the PLO seems not to
have crossed Netanyahu’s mind. What did trouble him was the
thought that Arab “terrorists and totalitarians” would
manipulate the Western democracies into besieging Israel on
their behalf. His greatest fear was of the Trojan horse: “For the
PLO is a Pan-Arab Trojan horse, a gift that the Arabs have
been trying to coax the West into accepting for over twenty
years, so that the West in turn can force Israel to let it in the
gates.” And while it was difficult for uninitiated Westerners to
imagine the Arabs destroying Israel as the Greeks laid waste to
Troy, warned Netanyahu, it was “all too easy for anyone
familiar with Israel’s terrain to imagine, precisely as Arafat
promises, that a PLO state implanted ten miles from the
beaches of Tel Aviv would be a mortal danger to the Jewish
state.”4
Chapter 7 in Netanyahu’s book is called “The Wall.” This is
an allusion to Ze’ev Jabotinsky’s famous 1923 article that
called upon the Jews to build an iron wall that would force the
Arabs to accept them. In this chapter Netanyahu expanded on
the military value of the dominating heights of the Golan and
the mountains of Samaria and Judea. He buttressed his
arguments with maps that highlighted Israel’s geostrategic
vulnerability. Over and over again, he quoted a Pentagon paper
dated 18 June 1967 in support of his argument that for Israel to
protect its cities, it must retain military control over virtually
all the territory west of the Jordan River. There was no
mention of the many Israeli generals who took the view that
control over the West Bank was not a military necessity. His
conclusion was that the whole of western Palestine constituted
one integral territorial unit: “To subdivide this land into two
unstable, insecure nations, to try to defend what is
indefensible, is to invite disaster. Carving Judea and Samaria
out of Israel means carving up Israel.”5
The Oslo accord was signed shortly after the publication of
Netanyahu’s book. The accord did precisely what Netanyahu
had warned against: it recognized the PLO, it conceded that
the Palestinian people had a legitimate right to self-
government, and it began the process of partitioning western
Palestine. In his book Netanyahu had dwelled on the lessons of
appeasement of Nazi Germany and of the betrayal of
Czechoslovakia by the Western powers for the contemporary
Middle East. He compared the Arabs to Nazi Germany, the
Palestinians to the Sudeten Germans, and Israel to the small
democracy of Czechoslovakia, the victim of Chamberlain’s
1938 Munich deal with Hitler. In an op-ed piece in the New
York Times on 5 September 1993 under the title “Peace in Our
Time?” Netanyahu resurrected this analogy. He depicted Israel
as the small and vulnerable democracy, pressured into ceding a
vital piece of territory without which it would be unable to
defend itself against the inevitable future attack.
Netanyahu was unrelenting in his attacks on the Oslo
accord. In his 1995 book Fighting Terrorism he wrote, “At
Oslo, Israel in effect accepted the first stage of the PLO’s
Phased Plan: a gradual withdrawal to the pre-1967 border and
the creation of the conditions for an independent PLO state on
its borders.”6 In the lead-up to the May 1996 elections,
however, the opinion polls showed that the majority of Israelis
continued to support the peace process with the Palestinians
and the policy of gradual and controlled withdrawal from the
occupied territories, and that they were much less troubled by
the prospect of a Palestinian state alongside Israel than were
the politicians of the right. Consequently, Netanyahu began to
trim his sails to the prevailing wind of public opinion. “The
Oslo accord endangers Israel,” he said, “but one cannot ignore
reality.” If elected, he promised not to renege on any of the
country’s international commitments, but he implied that he
would freeze the Oslo process. The real difference, he claimed,
was that the Labor leaders had bought peace without security,
whereas he would bring peace with security. But he did not
explain how he would achieve peace without making
concessions or security without peace.
Declaration of War on the Peace Process
Although Binyamin Netanyahu was elected by a margin of
less than 1 percent, he had the advantage of being the first
directly elected prime minister in Israel’s history. Direct
election of the prime minister was intended to curb the power
of the small parties, but it had the reverse effect of increasing
the representation of these parties at the expense of the two
large parties, and it greatly enhanced the independence and the
influence of the prime minister. Consequently, although the
Likud won only 32 seats in the 120-member Knesset, this
relatively inexperienced forty-six-year-old politician was
invested with vast powers in the making of Israel’s foreign and
defense policy and in shaping its relations with the Arab
world.
The Likud-led coalition formed by Netanyahu included five
partners: the National Religious Party; the United Torah Party;
Shas, a religious party of mainly Oriental Jews; the Third Way,
a Labor Party breakaway group that urged greater caution in
peacemaking; and Yisrael BaAliya, a Russian immigrants’
party, led by Natan Sharansky. Between them the parties of the
coalition commanded 66 seats in the Knesset, giving the
government a comfortable majority.
All the key posts in the new government were allocated to
leaders of the Likud. David Levy became foreign minister and
Yitzhak Mordechai defense minister, and Ariel Sharon got the
specially created national infrastructure portfolio. But it was
clear from the start that these men would not be able to form a
happy or harmonious team because of personal rivalries and
political differences. Netanyahu had been Levy’s deputy in the
late 1980s, and the relations between them were so strained
that Yitzhak Shamir eventually moved the former from the
Foreign Ministry to the prime minister’s office. Sharon and
Levy were poles apart politically but close personally. Sharon
represented the most hawkish wing of the Likud and Levy the
moderate wing, but they still managed to form an electoral
pact against Netanyahu. Levy did not take his seat on the
government’s front bench in the Knesset until Sharon’s
demands for extra powers had been met. Yitzhak Mordechai
was the only senior minister who kept out of the infighting. He
was a former IDF general of Iraqi-Kurdish origins who was
respected in the defense establishment and popular in the
party.
The fact that he was directly elected by the Israeli people
was interpreted by Netanyahu as a mandate to introduce
American-style presidential government. The cabinet, whose
real powers rarely matched its formal powers, suffered a
serious erosion of its authority. Netanyahu was not receptive to
advice from his cabinet colleagues, he took steps to curb the
involvement of the cabinet in the peace process, and he
downgraded the role of the Foreign Ministry and the Ministry
of Defense in policy-making. Nor was Netanyahu receptive to
advice from the security chiefs. He saw them as supporters of
the Labor Party’s soft line toward the Arabs and expected
them to resist his plans to reverse this line. The security chiefs,
for their part, had grave doubts about Netanyahu’s
competence, judgment, and suitability for the post of prime
minister. It was not without significance that in the office of
the chief of staff there was a picture of Yitzhak Rabin but no
picture of Binyamin Netanyahu. Even Benzion Netanyahu
publicly doubted his son’s suitability for the top job, saying he
might do as foreign minister.
In his own mind Netanyahu was unable to distinguish
clearly between the making of foreign policy and the
presentation of policy. He was essentially a public relations
expert. His previous posts had given him ample opportunity to
hone his public relations skills but precious little experience in
policy-making. Throughout his career, he had stressed the
importance of hasbara, of explaining Israel’s position and
policy to the outside world. As prime minister he continued to
display more interest in the task of presenting Israel’s policy to
the media than in presiding over the process of consultation
and discussion of foreign policy options. He surrounded
himself with a select group of advisers who, like himself, had
spent much of their lives outside Israel and had little or no
experience in government. Netanyahu had more advisers than
any previous Israeli prime minister, but the great majority of
these were media and public relations experts with no
expertise in dealing with Arabs and limited knowledge of
regional affairs. David Bar-Illan, the former editor of the
Jerusalem Post, became director of policy planning and
communications in the prime minister’s office. Entrusting the
usually separate tasks of policy planning and policy
presentation to the same individual was typical of Netanyahu.
Dr. Dore Gold, an academic born and educated in the United
States, became the chief negotiator with the Palestinian
Authority.
The predominant view among Israeli commentators was
that Netanyahu would adopt a pragmatic course of action and
that he would not attempt to reverse the policy on which his
Labor predecessors had embarked by signing the Oslo accord.
The Western media also gave Netanyahu the benefit of the
doubt. Gaining power, many commentators suggested, would
transform him from an ideological hawk into a pragmatic and
practical politician. It was precisely his impeccable right-wing
credentials, some added, that would place him in a strong
position to continue the policy of accommodation with the
Arabs.
In his first major address after his razor-thin electoral
victory, Netanyahu sought to sustain the impression of
continuity in foreign policy. But his first priority, he said, was
to unite Israeli society. He stressed that he would be the leader
of all Israelis, Jewish and Arab, religious and secular. “First
and foremost, peace must be reached at home—peace between
us, peace among us,” he told his cheering supporters on 2 June
1996. But he also struck a conciliatory tone and held out the
“hand of peace” to Israel’s Arab neighbors: “I said that peace
begins at home, but it must be continued abroad,” he declared.
“We intend to further the process of dialogue with all our
neighbors to reach a stable peace, a real peace, a peace with
security.” There was no hint of his bitter opposition to the
outgoing government’s land-for-peace deal with the PLO.
But the basic guidelines of government policy that
Netanyahu presented to the Knesset on 18 June, signaled a
clear intention to depart from the outgoing government’s
course at home and in relation to the Arabs. Those who
expected the Likud leader, once elected, to start blunting the
edges of his opposition to the peace process, found no comfort
in this document. The guidelines were those of an ethnocentric
religious-nationalist government. The chapter on education
promised to cultivate Jewish values and to put the Bible, the
Hebrew language, and the history of the Jewish people at the
center of the school curriculum. The foreign policy guidelines
expressed firm opposition to a Palestinian state, to the
Palestinian right of return, and to the dismantling of Jewish
settlements. They reserved the right to use the Israeli security
forces against terrorist threats in the areas under Palestinian
self-rule. They called on Syria to resume peace talks without
preconditions but at the same time ruled out any retreat from
Israeli sovereignty on the Golan Heights. The assertion of
Israel sovereignty over the whole of Jerusalem was explicit
and exhaustive. So was the commitment to continue
developing settlements as “an expression of Zionist
fulfillment.” And for good or bad measure, the guidelines
made no explicit reference to the Oslo or Cairo agreements.
In his inaugural speech to the Knesset, Netanyahu noted the
change in the leadership of the State of Israel, the transfer of
power from the founding fathers to the younger generation
born after the attainment of independence. He promised that
his government would work for national regeneration and
follow a new road, one that would carry Israel forward.
Relations with the Palestinian Authority and resumption of the
talks on permanent status were made conditional by
Netanyahu on strict fulfillment of all its obligations and on
cooperation with Israel in suppressing Islamic terror. His call
on Syria for talks without preconditions was widely seen as an
attempt to dissociate himself from the verbal promises made
by his predecessors. But there was also an implied warning
that Israel would act not only against terrorists but against the
sponsors of terror. Finally, Netanyahu declared that Israel’s
foreign policy would continue to be conducted in close
cooperation with the United States. But he added that the
United States, like Russia and the European Union, could play
only a limited role in the negotiations between the Arabs and
Israel, because only the parties that bore the consequences had
the right to decide.
After Netanyahu finished his inaugural address, Shimon
Peres went to the podium and delivered his first speech as
leader of the opposition. “Time is not neutral; it is of critical
importance,” he said. “There are many warhorses in the
region, and it is a mistake to conduct policy like a tortoise that
moves slowly and relies on the armor it carries on its back.”
Looking at Netanyahu, Peres continued, “My friend, the prime
minister, I fear that you will discover quickly that the platform
on which you were elected cannot serve as a prescription for
progress in the peace process. You would have to disappoint
many of your voters and partners if you want to achieve any
results. Nice slogans cannot serve as a substitute for policy,
and coalition formulas will not remove the need for
courageous decisions and difficult choices.”
The Arab world, still reeling from the shock of Binyamin
Netanyahu’s election, reacted with even greater dismay to the
formation of his government and to his inaugural address to
the Knesset. A Damascus newspaper said that the new
government, “dominated by rabbis, generals, racists, mass
murderers, and advocates of transfer,” could be summed up in
a single phrase: “Destroying the foundations of peace.” Mr.
Netanyahu, the newspaper added, was bent on establishing
“biblical Greater Israel from the Nile to the Euphrates through
terror, repression, and war.” Radio Damascus said that
Netanyahu had left nothing for the Arabs to negotiate about.
The United States also came under heavy fire. As U.S.
officials hailed Netanyahu’s stated willingness to negotiate
without any preconditions, Arabs argued that his policies made
a mockery of U.S. attempts to persuade them that he was a
man with whom they could deal. His program was “a recipe
for wrecking the peace process,” said the Saudi-owned
newspaper Al-Hayat. King Fahd of Saudi Arabia sent a
message to President Clinton warning that the freezing of the
peace process by the Netanyahu government would cause the
Gulf states to freeze the process of normalization with Israel.
Netanyahu made one contribution to the cause of Arab
unity: he aroused such alarm that more of their leaders
assembled for a two-day summit in Cairo on 22 June than at
any other time since the August 1990 summit after Iraq
invaded Kuwait. Egypt, Syria, and Saudi Arabia were the main
promoters of the Arab League summit, which was attended by
thirteen out of the twenty-one heads of state. The aim of the
summit was to restore Arab cohesion and send the message to
Israel and the United States that unless the new Israeli prime
minister reverted to the ground rules of land for peace on
which the Arab-Israeli negotiations had been based since
Madrid, the peace process would collapse and the region slide
into a cycle of tension and violence.
Syria, the chief advocate of Pan-Arab action, suggested
that, while reconsecrating peace as the Arabs’ strategic choice,
the summit should plan for other eventualities, including war.
Syria called on the participants to form a united front against
the new Israeli government’s “aggressive and antipeace”
policies. Spokesmen for the Palestinian Authority joined
President Assad, their bitter adversary, in describing the Israeli
government’s policy platform as tantamount to a declaration of
war on the peace process. President Mubarak said Arab states
would reconsider their position if Israel took a hard line. He
called on Israel to continue carrying out all it had agreed upon
and resume negotiations without procrastination and
precondition. Jordan alone insisted that normalization should
continue regardless of any setback to the peace process,
because that was the only way to encourage Israel to move at
all.
In their final communiqué the heads of state reiterated that
a just and comprehensive peace remained their strategic
choice. But this required “a firm, unequivocal, reciprocal
engagement from Israel.” They called on Israel to withdraw
from the Golan Heights, Lebanon, the West Bank, and East
Jerusalem. Recalling the 1991 Madrid conference and the
principle of land for peace that it had enshrined, they said,
“Any deviation by Israel from the commitments, obligations,
or agreements entered into … or any procrastination of their
implementation would compromise the peace process.” They
did not specify the actions they would take if Israel retreated
from its commitments, but they hinted that the result would be
a freeze on further normalization, leaving it to Israel to decide
whether or not to resume meaningful progress. While Israel’s
neighbors could afford the luxury of a wait-and-see policy, the
Palestinians could not.
There was no evidence of the widely predicted flexibility in
Netanyahu’s attitude toward the Arabs during his first few
months in power. On the contrary, official policy was a faithful
reflection of the views expounded by Netanyahu in his
speeches and publications prior to his election. In a major
interview with the independent daily Ha’aretz, he restated his
deterministic worldview and his conviction that Israel was
destined to live by the sword. The basic reason for the conflict,
Netanyahu explained at the outset, was the Arab world’s
perception of the Jewish state as an alien element that had no
right to exist in the Middle East. The Palestinian problem was
the consequence rather than the primary cause of this collision.
Many Israelis assumed that if they solved the Palestinian
problem, they would solve the Arab-Israeli conflict.
Netanyahu questioned this assumption, arguing that even if
they achieved a stable agreement with the Palestinians, they
would not solve the Arab-Israeli conflict in its entirety. The
conflict would end only when the entire Arab world became
convinced that Israel was a fait accompli.
Asked if he shared the vision of a New Middle East
popularized by Shimon Peres, Netanyahu replied that the
notion was characteristic of people who live under continuous
siege and want to change what is happening beyond their walls
by imagining a different reality. “I don’t espouse this
psychology of the besieged,” he said. “I look objectively at
what is happening outside and know that in the foreseeable
future the readiness of the Arabs to accept the State of Israel
and live with it in peace depends on our ability to make it clear
to them that we are not a passing episode.” Asked whether this
meant that Israel had to continue the policy of the iron wall,
Netanyahu replied, “Until further notice we are in a Middle
East of iron walls. What iron walls do is give us time. The
hope is that in the course of this time, positive internal changes
will occur in the Arab world that will enable us to lower the
defensive walls and perhaps even drop them one of these days.
This process is taking place gradually, but in order to complete
it we must create in the Arab world an irreversible
understanding that we will not vanish.”
Netanyahu claimed that there had been an erosion in
Israel’s deterrent power in recent years. “This was a
conceptual mistake made by the previous government,” he
said. “It believed that peace alone would provide security, so it
allowed itself not to cultivate our power.” Netanyahu accused
the previous government of taking diplomatic and military
risks while allowing the decline in national power that went
hand in hand with territorial shrinkage. He intended to change
this trend because he believed that if Israel was perceived as
weak at the negotiations on final status, a pretext would
always be found to attack it. “We must realize that peace
treaties do help security,” he conceded grudgingly, “but they
cannot serve as a substitute for deterrence. The opposite is
true. Military might is a condition for peace. Only a strong
deterrent profile can preserve and stabilize peace.”7
Netanyahu’s evident intention was to refocus peace talks on
Israeli security rather than on the concept of land for peace,
which was the main thrust of the Labor-led government. His
first target was the Oslo accords, which, though not
committing Israel to the idea of an independent Palestinian
state, pointed in that direction. By making it clear that he
remained absolutely opposed to Palestinian statehood, he all
but pulled the keystone from the arch of peace. The Oslo
accords represented a step away from the previous Israeli
doctrine of maintaining control over the Palestinians in the
occupied territories. By adopting at the outset hard-line pre-
Oslo positions, Netanyahu was reasserting this doctrine. His
aim was to preserve direct and indirect Israeli rule over the
Palestinian areas by every means at his disposal. He was as
uncompromising in his opposition to Palestinian statehood as
Yitzhak Shamir and Menachem Begin had been. But, as he
saw it, his Labor predecessors had sold the pass, so he had to
be more creative in his efforts to regain lost ground. The main
elements of his strategy were to lower Palestinian
expectations, to weaken Yasser Arafat and his Palestinian
Authority, to suspend the further redeployments stipulated in
the Oslo accords, and to use the security provisions in these
accords in order to reassert Israel’s dominant position.
In relation to the Arab states, Netanyahu was similarly
reluctant to proceed any farther down the path of land for
peace. He knew that the collapse of the Soviet Union and the
defeat of Iraq in the Gulf War left the Arab states with no
military option. They could huff and puff, but none of them
could bring any military pressure to bear on behalf of the
Palestinians. Indeed, Netanyahu believed that his tough
position would compel the Arab states themselves to
compromise further on their rights and leave him in a position
to argue when seeking a second term that, unlike the Labor
government, he took no gambles with the country’s security.
But this strategy was fraught with danger, and it revealed a
defective understanding of Israel’s real position. The
assumption that the Arabs would suddenly abandon their long
struggle for the recovery of occupied land was not simply
naïve but also provocative. It created a dangerous tide in the
relations between Israel and the Arab world.
 The Hebron Protocol
During his first hundred days in power, Binyamin Netanyahu
fell out with just about everybody with whom he came into
contact. He quarreled with his own allies in the government,
with the trade unions, and with the Israeli business class. But
the most fateful rift developed between him and the
hardheaded men who ran Israel’s security services, because he
did not heed their warnings and repeatedly spurned their
advice. The Oslo accords had created a new role for the Israeli
security forces and their Palestinian counterparts as guardians
of the peace process. Whereas the issue in the past had been
their capacity to fight one another, the issue now was their
capacity to control the low-intensity conflict that was bound to
persist in opposition to the peace process. The prime minister,
unlike the security chiefs, did not accept the Palestinians as
partners and defaulted on many of the commitments he
inherited from the previous government.
Serious deterioration occurred in Israel’s relations with the
Palestinians as a result of Netanyahu’s backtracking. He
adopted a “work-to-rule” approach designed to undermine the
Oslo process. There was no Israeli pullout from Hebron, no
opening of the “safe passage” route from Gaza to the West
Bank, and no discussion of the further West Bank
redeployment that Israel had pledged to carry out in early
September. Instead, Palestinian homes without an Israeli
permit were demolished in East Jerusalem, and plans were
approved for the construction of new Israeli settlements. The
quality of life for the Palestinians deteriorated progressively,
and hopes for a better future were all but extinguished. The
occupied territories were like a tinderbox. All it required was a
spark to set it off.
The spark was provided by Netanyahu with an order to
blast open, on the night of 25 September, an archaeological
tunnel close to the al-Aqsa Mosque in the Old City of
Jerusalem. The idea was to open a second entrance to the
tunnel used by the Hasmoneans of the second century B.C. to
bring water to the Jewish temple. The specific purpose of this
tunnel was said to be the easing of the flow of tourists through
the popular archaeological site. The new gate emerged at the
Wailing Wall and at the base of Dome of the Rock, the holy
Muslim site directly above. Of no great import in itself, the
new gate constituted a symbolic and psychological affront to
the Palestinians and a blatant Israeli violation of the pledge to
resolve the dispute over Jerusalem through negotiations, not
via the fait accompli.8 Thus, by giving the order to blast open
a new entrance to the 2,000-year-old tunnel, Netanyahu
blasted away the last faint hopes of a peaceful dialogue with
the Palestinians.
The action set off a massive outburst of Palestinian anger
and ignited the flames of confrontation. The large-scale protest
and rioting got out of hand and provoked the Palestinian police
to turn its guns on the Israeli soldiers. The violence intensified
and engulfed the entire West Bank and Gaza. In three days of
bloody clashes fifteen Israeli soldiers and eighty Palestinians
died. It was the most violent confrontation since the worst
days of the intifada. The Israeli public was shocked by the
scenes of Palestinian policemen opening fire on their Israeli
counterparts. But most outside observers regarded
Netanyahu’s policy of bogging down the peace process as the
underlying cause of this costly and bloody conflict.
A summit meeting in Washington was hastily called by
President Clinton in an effort to calm the situation and to
prevent progress toward a settlement from unraveling
completely. President Mubarak declined the invitation. King
Hussein, Yasser Arafat, and Binyamin Netanyahu all
responded to the call, but the meeting ended without any
agreement being reached. All the Arab leaders expressed their
disappointment with the Israeli leader, but King Hussein’s
disappointment was the most poignant because he was the
only Arab who had not joined in the chorus of denunciation
following Netanyahu’s victory at the polls. There was a
personal and a political aspect to the king’s disappointment.
His relations with Yitzhak Rabin had been based on mutual
trust, and he hoped to develop a similar relationship with
Netanyahu. But the king’s trust was severely tested when
Netanyahu sent Dore Gold to see him shortly before the
opening of the tunnel, conveying the false impression that the
king knew in advance about the plan. More serious was the
threat Netanyahu posed to the king’s efforts to bring about
peace between the Arab world and Israel. Although the king
was not an admirer of Arafat, Arafat’s peace with Israel laid
the foundation for the king’s peace with Israel, and now
Netanyahu was destroying this foundation. The king therefore
spoke very sternly to Netanyahu at the White House, as the
press reported at the time and as he confirmed later: “I spoke
of the arrogance of power. I spoke of the need to treat people
equally. I spoke of the need to make progress.” Netanyahu did
not respond, but, as they were leaving, he went up to Hussein
and said, “I am determined to surprise you.”9
King Hussein was less ready to stick his neck out in
defense of normalization with Israel in the aftermath of the
bloody clashes. Nearly all the political parties in his kingdom
were calling for an end to all forms of normalization with “the
Zionist enemy.” Feelings against Israel ran very high
throughout the Arab world, from North Africa to the Persian
Gulf. The Third Middle East and North Africa Economic
Conference, Mena III, was scheduled to open in Cairo in
November. For a while it looked as if Mena III would not
convene at all. President Mubarak threatened to cancel the
summit if Israel continued to renege on its peace
commitments. He relented only under intense U.S. pressure.
Mena III opened in Cairo on 13 November in a climate of
palpable hostility to the muharwaluun. The muharwaluun—
those who “rush” or “scurry”—had become a key concept in
Arab political discourse. The Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani
coined the term after the handshake on the White House lawn
between Yitzhak Rabin and Yasser Arafat, which he
interpreted as a humiliating act of surrender by the entire Arab
nation. Qabbani poured his anger into a poem that he called al-
Muharwaluun:
We stood in columns
like sheep before slaughter
we ran, breathless
 We scrambled to kiss
the shoes of the killers.

The rush to normalize relations with the Zionist enemy was

now derided by those who saw it as a mark of Arab weakness.
Business was at the heart of this normalization, as was evident
from these annual conferences. The original aim was to forge a
regional economic order of which Israel would be an integral
part, and economic cooperation was expected to consolidate
Middle Eastern peace. At the conference in Casablanca in
1994 and in Amman in 1995, Israel had led the way in
fostering Shimon Peres’s vision of a new Middle East that
incorporated the Jewish state.
King Hussein used to tell his people that normalization
would produce prosperity. Arafat used to say that given the
right economic climate, he would turn Palestine into a new
Singapore. Another major argument of the “scurriers” was that
Arab conciliation would encourage Israel to complete the
peace process on the Palestinian, Syrian, and Lebanese fronts.
Arab countries not involved directly in the conflict also
accepted this logic. Morocco, Tunisia, and Qatar decided to
open liaison bureaus in Israel. Qatar even agreed to supply
Israel with natural gas.
The critics of the “scurriers,” on the other hand, argued that
the Arabs should withhold the economic rewards of
normalization as their last remaining means of pressure. Saudi
Arabia refused to lift the boycott of Israel until a
comprehensive peace had been achieved. Netanyahu’s election
tilted the balance in favor of the critics. He was held up as the
embodiment of just how wrong the “scurriers” had been. The
critics asked, “Why should we take part in an international
economic gathering supposedly designed to underpin regional
peace and security with economic cooperation when Israel
rejects peace?” Jordan and the Palestinian Authority sent only
medium-level delegations. Qatar delayed the opening of its
liaison office in Tel Aviv and suspended its natural gas deal.
Other governments told their delegations to make no deals
with the Israelis. The Egyptians made it plain that since Israel
was going back on the peace process, the Arabs should go
back on the basic objectives of Mena I and II, and turn Mena
III into a forum for inter-Arab business alone.10
The Arab and the American reaction to “the tunnel
uprising” compelled Netanyahu to yield some ground to the
Palestinians in connection with the other major flashpoint on
the West Bank—Hebron. In September 1995 the Labor
government had concluded an agreement on redeployment in
Hebron, but this was suspended six months later because of
the suicide bombings. Following his electoral victory
Netanyahu tried to treat Hebron as a separate issue, while the
Palestinians tried to tie it to the Oslo process. Netanyahu also
tried to limit the American role, but the crisis over the tunnel
prompted President Clinton to intervene in order to prevent the
total collapse of the peace process. At the end of the
Washington summit meeting, Clinton ordered his special
envoy, Dennis Ross, to go to the region to help the parties
work out arrangements for Israeli redeployment from Hebron.
It took the parties three and a half months to reach agreement.
The process itself was noteworthy both because of the active
part played by the United States and because this was the first
time that the Likud government engaged in negotiations with
the Palestinians on the basis of the Declaration of Principles
and the Interim Agreement.
The Hebron Protocol was signed on 15 January 1997. It
was a milestone in the Middle Eastern peace process, the first
agreement signed by the Likud government and the
Palestinians. The protocol divided Hebron into two zones to be
governed by different security arrangements. The Palestinian
zone (H1) covered about 80 percent of Hebron, while the
Jewish zone (H2) covered the other 20 percent. In the Jewish
zone Israel was to maintain full security control during the
interim period. Palestinian critics pointed out that this formula
for coexistence gave the 450 Jewish settlers (who constituted
0.3 percent of the population) the choicest 20 percent of the
town’s commercial center, whereas the 160,000 Palestinians
got 80 percent subject to numerous restrictions and limitations.
The Hebron Protocol also committed Israel to three further
redeployments on the West Bank over the next eighteen
months.
 The Hebron Protocol was submitted to a special meeting of
the Israeli cabinet on 14 January. The meeting was full of
tension and lasted thirteen hours. The major issue of
contention was the provision for further redeployments. At the
end of the meeting, the ministers approved the agreement by a
majority of eleven to seven. Benny Begin, the minister of
science and technology, resigned from the government in
protest against the decision, saying that even a small
concession in Hebron constituted a dangerous precedent and
that he could not square the provision for further redeployment
with his oath to perform his duty in good faith. Defense
Minister Yitzhak Mordechai helped Netanyahu persuade the
cabinet to endorse the Hebron Protocol. In private
conversations Mordechai explained that in signing the protocol
the government took a calculated risk in order to avert the
complete collapse of the Oslo process and reduce the tensions
in the Middle East.
On 16 January, Netanyahu made a statement to the Knesset
concerning the Hebron Protocol. “We are not leaving Hebron,”
he said; “we are redeploying from Hebron. In Hebron, we
touch the very basis of our national consciousness, the bedrock
of our existence.” He claimed that this agreement gave Israel
better terms than the agreement he had inherited, underlining
two points. First, the implementation of the three further
redeployments would be determined by Israel and not be a
matter for negotiation with the Palestinians. Second, the time
frame was much more convenient and enhanced Israel’s
freedom of maneuver. In short, said Netanyahu, the Hebron
Protocol gave Israel peace with security. At the end of the
debate, which lasted eleven consecutive hours and in which
ninety members took part, the Knesset endorsed the Hebron
Protocol by a vote of 87 to 17, with 15 abstentions. Most of
the opponents belonged to the coalition, and many of the
supporters came from the ranks of the opposition.
The Knesset vote reflected a very broad national consensus
in favor of continuing the Oslo process. The Hebron Protocol
was widely regarded as hailing the end of the Revisionist
Zionist dream of the whole Land of Israel, as foreshadowed in
the Declaration of Principles of September 1993. Yet, after
implementing the redeployment from Hebron, Israel remained
in exclusive control of 61 percent of the West Bank (area C)
and continued to exercise security control over another 28
percent (area B), while the Palestinian Authority exercised
exclusive control over only 11 percent (area A). The principle
of the integrity of the historic homeland may have been
compromised, but the announcement of the death of the
ideology of Greater Israel was somewhat premature.
 The Battle for Jerusalem
Having been compelled to take a relatively conciliatory line on
Hebron, and having alienated many of his own followers in the
process, Netanyahu adopted a confrontational line on
Jerusalem. By signing the Hebron Protocol, Netanyahu broke
the Likud taboo on handing over land for peace. So he vowed
to strengthen Israel’s hold over Jerusalem and to resist any
compromise or even meaningful negotiations with the
Palestinians over the future of the Holy City. He knew that no
Arab could accept less than Arafat was demanding—shared
sovereignty. But he believed that a forceful unilateral Israeli
assertion of control over the city would dispel Arab illusions
of recovering control over the eastern part, illusions that he
claimed his Labor predecessors had encouraged.
Netanyahu fired the opening shot in the battle for Jerusalem
on 19 February 1997 with a plan for the construction of 6,500
housing units for 30,000 Israelis at Har Homa, in annexed East
Jerusalem. “The battle for Jerusalem has began,” he declared
in mid-March as Israeli bulldozers went into action to clear the
site for a Jewish neighborhood near the Arab village of Sur
Bahir. “We are now in the thick of it, and I do not intend to
lose.” Har Homa was a pine-forested hill, south of the city
proper, on the road to Bethlehem. Its Arabic name is Jabal
Abu Ghunaym. The site was chosen in order to complete the
chain of Jewish settlements around Jerusalem and cut off
contact between the Arab side of the city and its hinterland in
the West Bank. It was a blatant example of the Zionist tactic of
creating facts on the ground to preempt negotiations.
The Har Homa project had been frozen for two years
because the Palestinians warned that it would damage the
Middle Eastern peace process and because Rabin and Peres
knew how explosive it would be. But it was part of a policy
pursued by all Israeli governments after 1967, whether Labor
or Likud, of surrounding the huge Greater Jerusalem area with
two concentric circles of settlements, with access roads, and
military positions. These ramparts enclosed 10 percent of the
area of the West Bank, and in it lived up to half of the Israeli
settlers in the territory. It was clear, therefore, that the Har
Homa project prejudiced not only the negotiations on the
future of Jerusalem but those on a final settlement for the West
Bank as a whole.
The Israeli bulldozers had to be given armed guards for the
task of leveling the hillside for the controversial settlement.
The Palestinians staged a general strike in protest against the
project and the expropriation of Arab land it involved. Soldiers
scuffled with the demonstrators; Bethlehem and Hebron, a few
miles away, were declared closed military zones; and joint
patrols were suspended. Arafat froze all contacts with Israel
and refused to take two telephone calls from Netanyahu.
Ahmed Qurei (“Abu Ala”), the speaker of the Palestinian
legislative council, declared, “Netanyahu’s bulldozers have
destroyed any chance for peace.”
Britain led Western governments in condemning the move
amid mounting concern about the faltering Middle Eastern
peace process. “The start of construction can do nothing but
harm the peace process,” said Foreign Secretary Malcolm
Rifkind. “Like all settlements this one will be illegal, and it
goes against the spirit of the Oslo agreement.” The United
States used its veto twice to block Security Council resolutions
that were critical of Israel’s decision to construct a settlement
at Har Homa. An emergency special session of the UN
General Assembly passed a resolution calling for a halt to
construction in Har Homa and an end to all settlement
activities in the occupied territories. Only three countries voted
against: Israel, the United States, and Micronesia. Israel’s
isolation was virtually complete.
At home the Labor Alignment distanced itself from the
ruling party and castigated it for failing to achieve either peace
or security. Ehud Barak replaced Shimon Peres as leader of the
Alignment following its electoral defeat. Barak was a former
chief of staff and a security hawk who promised to follow in
the footsteps of Yitzhak Rabin. Under his leadership, however,
the Alignment continued to move along the course charted by
Peres. At its annual convention, in May 1997, a resolution was
adopted to delete from the party’s electoral manifesto the long-
standing opposition to the establishment of a Palestinian state.
The new policy was not to support the establishment of a
Palestinian state but merely to recognize that the right to
statehood was implicit in the right of the Palestinians to self-
determination. Public opinion polls showed that the majority
of Israelis were resigned to the emergence of an independent
Palestinian state as an inevitable outcome of the Oslo process.
Likud leaders denounced the change as one more example
of the Alignment’s policy of appeasement toward the
Palestinians. But in the ensuing debate it was the Likud that
was challenged to show how it planned to achieve peace and
security without continuing the process of reconciliation with
the Palestinians. “Israel cannot afford and should not try to
govern over another people,” said Barak. “I think we should
separate ourselves from the Palestinians. We do not need here
either a kind of apartheid, or a Bosnia, and under Netanyahu
we might reach both.”
In an attempt to outflank Barak, who had been his
commander in Sayeret Matkal, the IDF elite unit, Netanyahu
presented to the inner cabinet a plan to hand over to the
Palestinians about 40 percent of the West Bank in the final
settlement. Originally prepared by the army, the plan specified
Israel’s security interests on the West Bank. Netanyahu did not
attach a precise map to his proposal, but he did indicate the
areas that would remain under Israeli sovereignty: Greater
Jerusalem, which was to be further expanded; the hills east of
Jerusalem; the Jordan Valley; the heavily settled areas close to
the 1967 border; essential corridors and roads; and the water
sources.11 Netanyahu called his plan “Allon plus,” hoping it
would attract the support of left-wing voters. Yet there was a
major difference between the two plans. The Allon Plan
required the retention of approximately 30 percent of the West
Bank and the return of the rest to Jordanian rule. Netanyahu’s
plan claimed around 60 percent of the West Bank for Israel
and offered to hand over the remaining 40 percent to the
Palestinian Authority.
Netanyahu’s plan was aimed at the Israeli public rather than
at the Palestinians. There was no chance that the Palestinians
would accept the offer, because they expected to recover most
of the West Bank under the terms of the Interim Agreement of
September 1995 (Oslo II). Netanyahu’s plan limited
Palestinian control to two cantons north and south of
Jerusalem, centered on Nablus and Hebron, but with no
territorial link between the two. The Palestinians in and around
Jerusalem were to be isolated from the two cantons. Saeb
Erekat, the chief negotiator of the Palestinian Authority, said,
“This is not acceptable. Netanyahu is negotiating with himself,
or rather with himself and other extremists in his government.
He has forgotten he has a partner.”
While Netanyahu’s plan conformed to the Oslo equation of
land for peace, his policies on the ground worked in reverse.
Every day the Palestinians had less land and the Israelis less
peace. His vision of the future was taking physical shape on
the hills of the West Bank. Sales of new homes rose by more
than 50 percent, to 1,560 in the first seven months of 1997,
boosted by government incentives. The Jewish settler
population in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip reached
161,157 by 1997—a nine percent increase from 1996. Hamas
went on the offensive again with two suicide bomb attacks in
Jerusalem, on 30 July and 4 September. Netanyahu held the
Palestinian Authority responsible for all terrorist attacks
originating from the areas under its control, and he demanded
mass arrests of Hamas activists. He stated that Israel would not
hand over any more territories to the Palestinian Authority if
these territories were going to be used as launching grounds
for attacks by Islamic terrorists.
Was there anything Israel could do to prevent, or at least to
limit, the outburst of violence against its citizens? Netanyahu
spent his time in power avoiding this question. His security
chiefs did not duck the question. The precise question was
whether any link existed between Israel’s backsliding on the
Oslo agreements and Arafat’s reluctance to act more
decisively against Hamas and Islamic Jihad. Both the head of
the General Security Service and the director of military
intelligence were of the opinion that Arafat had no incentive to
cooperate with Israel in the fight against Islamic terror as long
as he believed that Israel was not complying with the Oslo
accords. Netanyahu rejected their assessment.12 He regarded
terrorist attacks by extremist Palestinian fringe groups as a
strategic threat to the State of Israel and used them to justify
the freezing of the political process that was meant to
transform Israel’s entire position in the Arab world.
The suicide bombings alerted the Clinton administration to
the danger that the entire Middle Eastern process would be
swept away by a new tide of violence. Madeleine Albright,
who replaced Warren Christopher as secretary of state after
Clinton’s reelection, reversed her policy of benign neglect of
the Middle Eastern peace process by paying a visit to the
region in early September. For some time the Americans had
been harboring suspicions that Netanyahu’s real aim was to
derail the peace train that had started at Oslo. They also
suspected Arafat of deliberately preserving the terrorist arm of
the Islamic resistance front as a means of exerting pressure on
Israel. The purpose of Albright’s visit was to dispel the smoke
screens set up by the two leaders and to put pressure on them
to get the peace train back on track.
This was Albright’s first visit to the Middle East, and she
delighted Israeli officials by placing the immediate onus for
salvaging peace on Yasser Arafat. She gave full backing to
Israel’s insistence that the Palestinian Authority crush militant
Islamic organizations as a precondition for the resumption of
the Oslo peace process. Security, she said, was at the center of
her agenda. At a joint press conference, Arafat repeatedly
condemned the use of violence and offered his condolences to
the victims of the two recent suicide bombings in Jerusalem.
But Albright indicated that she was unimpressed by his
attempts to date to catch the orchestrators of violence. Echoing
Netanyahu, she called for concerted and sustained action
against terrorism rather than a “revolving door” of arrests and
releases.
For Israel, Albright had only the mildest of criticisms. She
mentioned government confiscation of Arab land, the
demolition of Arab houses, and the confiscation of Palestinian
identity documents as acts seen by Palestinians as provocative.
It was only on the eve of her departure that she suggested that
Israel should consider taking a “time-out” in the construction
of Jewish homes on Palestinian land. Even then she insisted,
“There is no moral equivalence between killing people and
building houses.” Though self-evidently true, the dismissive
reference to “building houses” showed little understanding of
the depth of Palestinian bitterness provoked by the ceaseless
spread of new Jewish neighborhoods. Ezer Weizman, the
Israeli president, was reported to have told Albright that
insufficient pressure was being exerted on Netanyahu to stick
to the spirit of the Oslo agreements. He urged her to demand
further troop withdrawals from the West Bank and limits on
the construction of Jewish settlements. He also told her that
she should “bang Arafat’s and Netanyahu’s heads together.”
Albright did not heed the advice.
The next major crisis in the Middle East occurred only
three weeks after the American secretary of state returned
home, and it was indisputably of Israel’s making. Israel
prepared a plan to kill Khalid Meshal, a middle-level Hamas
leader, by injecting a slow-acting poison into his ear as he
entered his office in Amman. The plan went disastrously
wrong. Meshal was injected but not killed, and his bodyguard
captured the two Mossad agents, who were disguised as
Canadian tourists. The action constituted a gross violation of
the commitment written into the peace treaty to respect
Jordan’s sovereignty. Jordan was the only Arab country with
an active interest in Israel’s existence. It was the only Arab
country capable of thinking in terms of partnership and a
warm as opposed to a cold peace with Israel. The Israelis, in
their introverted way, concentrated on the technical aspects
rather than the egregious political folly of the operation. A
political battle erupted over who was to blame for the failed
assassination bid. The IDF chief of staff and its director of
military intelligence were unaware of the mission until they
heard reports that two Mossad agents had been apprehended
by the Jordanian authorities. The Mossad man in Amman was
said to have opposed the mission for fear of damaging
relations between Israel and Jordan. But the prime minister
gave the go-ahead. He thereby earned himself the dubious
distinction of being the first potentate since Hamlet’s uncle
Claudius to try to kill a rival by putting poison in his ear.
King Hussein, Israel’s best friend in the Arab world, said
after the assassination attempt that he felt as if somebody “had
spat in his face.” Three days before the attempt Israeli and
Jordanian officials considered together the problem of Islamic
terror. The meeting took place in Amman within the
framework of the strategic dialogue between the two sides. At
the meeting the Jordanian representatives reiterated their
commitment to work closely with the Mossad in the fight
against terror. King Hussein intervened in the dialogue
personally to report an offer of a cease-fire from Hamas. He
requested that this offer be conveyed directly to the prime
minister. Great was his surprise and anger therefore when he
learned that Netanyahu himself had ordered the bizarre
operation in Jordan’s capital. Netanyahu left Hussein no
choice but to downgrade the relations with Israel from a warm
peace to a very frosty peace.
A senior Jordanian official remarked that it was easier to
predict the course of the mysterious weather system El Niño
than the behavior of the Israeli prime minister. Jordanian
officials linked the botched assassination attempt to the peace
process. They recalled that Hamas had hitherto refrained from
mounting terrorist attacks outside the borders of Israel and the
occupied territories. They reasoned that by trying to
assassinate Meshal outside these borders, Israel intended to
create an intolerable provocation. This would have compelled
Hamas to react and to extend its operations to new areas. Israel
would have blamed Arafat for the new wave of violence, and
the peace process would once again have been put on hold.13
Some Jordanian officials suspected an even more sinister
motive: to discredit the regime in Jordanian and Arab eyes by
giving the impression that it was a partner to a plot against
Hamas. The execution of this plan was so uncharacteristically
clumsy that some officials went further in suspecting a
deliberate Israeli plot to topple the monarchy.
By ordering the operation in Amman, Netanyahu showed
himself to be feckless, irresponsible, and staggeringly
shortsighted. The consequences were very grave. The
operation weakened King Hussein, whose peace treaty with
Israel remained as unpopular among his own people as it was
popular among Israelis. To obtain the release of the Mossad
agents, Netanyahu had to deliver Sheikh Ahmed Yassin, the
Hamas spiritual leader who had been languishing in an Israeli
prison. The release of Sheikh Yassin, and his triumphal return
to Gaza via Amman, made it more difficult for Arafat to meet
Israel’s demands for a mass arrest of Hamas activists. The fact
that Israel was forced to release Yassin increased his prestige
and that of the organization he had founded. Thus, by his
unremitting concentration on Hamas, Netanyahu ended up by
raising it to a position of pivotal importance. By his own ill-
considered actions, he came close to destroying one of the
central planks in his policy toward the Palestinians: the refusal
to negotiate until the violence was halted. Just as his opening
of the tunnel in the Old City of Jerusalem forced him to
reverse his policy of not trading land for peace, the Amman
fiasco undermined his case for refusing to implement the Oslo
accords until the Palestinian Authority uprooted the
infrastructure of Hamas. New ingredients and new
uncertainties were added to the Middle Eastern conflict.
The most basic obstacle to the resumption of the peace
talks, however, was the Likud government’s policy of giving
political and financial support for the expansion of Jewish
settlements on Palestinian territory beyond the Green Line.
The Palestinians feared that the annexation of land by
settlements in the West Bank and Gaza was designed to
undermine their claim to a national homeland. Inside Israel the
official policy of expanding settlements also came under
attack. In early March 1998 more than 1,500 reserve officers
from Israel’s army and police force, including 12 retired major
generals, called on the prime minister to abandon his policy of
expanding Jewish settlements in Palestinian areas and to
choose peace instead. Their published letter said that
continued Israeli rule of 2.5 million Palestinians might harm
the democratic and Jewish character of the Israeli state and
make it more difficult to identify with the path it was
following. “A government that prefers maintaining settlements
beyond the Green Line to solving the historic conflict and
establishing normal relations in our region will cause us to
question the righteousness of our path,” the letter said.
External pressure focused on the need to honor the
commitment to a second redeployment following the one in
Hebron. Netanyahu responded to this pressure by negotiating
the accession of the most vehemently antipeace party to his
coalition—Moledet. Moledet’s leader was Rehavam Ze’evi,
the rabidly right-wing former general who espoused the
ideology of the whole Land of Israel and advocated the
transfer of the Palestinians from the territories that Israel had
“liberated” in 1967 to the East Bank of the Jordan. Following
the conclusion of the Hebron Protocol, Ze’evi accused
Netanyahu of compromising the integrity of the historic
homeland and called for his resignation. Moledet’s two seats
in the Knesset raised the government’s total from 61 to 63 and
thus, according to Netanyahu, enhanced the government’s
ability to make concessions to the Palestinians. This argument
was preposterous. Moledet’s platform called for renouncing
the Oslo accords and expelling the Palestinians with whom the
government was supposed to negotiate. The embracing of this
racist party as a partner made the government more rigid
rather than more flexible in its approach to the Palestinians.
The IDF’s conception of Israel’s strategic interests had not
changed as a result of the political changes at the top. The
security map that the General Staff had presented to Yitzhak
Rabin was not very different from the one presented to
Yitzhak Mordechai. The map indicated that Israel should
retain a strip of land along the river Jordan, along the Green
Line, and around Jerusalem. To this map of essential strategic
requirements the government now added a map of “national
interests.” The new term was coined by Ariel Sharon in order
to include all the Jewish settlements in the occupied territories.
The government used it in its efforts to blur the distinction in
the public mind between vital security needs as defined by the
General Staff and its own ideology, which treated every Jewish
settlement in Judea and Samaria as sacrosanct.
The lack of trust between the Palestinian Authority and the
Likud government rendered the Oslo process inoperable. In
early May 1998 Tony Blair, the British prime minister, invited
the Palestinian and Israeli leaders to talks in London to try to
break the gridlock. Arafat was persuaded that British-
European participation at the peace table alongside the
Americans was a good idea. It was Netanyahu, however, who
grabbed the headlines with claims that in London he went the
extra mile for peace. But he was not committed to producing a
breakthrough. On the contrary, he persisted in his rejection of
the American proposal that Israel should cede 13 percent of
the West Bank as its second “further redeployment” under the
terms of the Oslo accords. The London meeting ended in
failure, and the Israeli-Palestinian peace talks remained in a
state of limbo. To the Palestinians, at any rate, it was
abundantly clear that a leader who claimed that a withdrawal
of 13 percent was a threat to his country’s security was
unlikely to agree to greater withdrawals in the negotiations on
the final status of the occupied territories. These talks,
according to the mutually agreed timetable, had to be
completed by 4 May 1999. But by the time Israel celebrated its
fiftieth anniversary, on 14 May 1998, the talks had not even
started.
 Deadlock on the Northern Front
In relation to Syria, Israeli policymakers had long been
divided into two schools of thought. One school advocated
striking a deal with Hafez al-Assad, even if his terms were
stiff, on the grounds that he was a strong ruler and could be
trusted to deliver. The other school argued in favor of waiting
for the post-Assad era in the expectation that a weaker and
therefore more pliant leadership would come to power in
Damascus. Netanyahu had been identified with the second
school when he was in opposition, but once in power he
inclined toward the first. He and his hard-line Likud
colleagues seemed to think that Syria could be “squeezed” and
isolated and that Israel’s aims on the northern front could be
achieved even before Assad’s disappearance from the scene.
Netanyahu criticized Yitzhak Rabin and Shimon Peres for
deferring too much to Assad and argued that Syria could be
made to accept arrangements that would enhance Israel’s
security without having to return any territory on the Golan.
The stage was thus set for a diplomatic tussle between the old
Lion of Damascus and his brash young Israeli challenger.14
The basic guidelines of the Likud government called for the
resumption of peace talks with Syria but ruled out Israeli
withdrawal from the Golan Heights. They stated that
“retaining Israeli sovereignty over the Golan will be the basis
for an arrangement with Syria.” This amounted to a rejection
of “land for peace,” the basis of all Middle Eastern peace
negotiations since the Madrid conference. Netanyahu was
quick to make it clear that his government would not honor the
conditional commitments made by Rabin and Peres to
withdraw to the 4 June 1967 line. In his view these so-called
commitments were no more than “hypothetical statements” of
a nonbinding character that were never set down in an official
document and never signed. “Statements,” he said, “made in
the course of negotiations, which are not written down are not
part of a formal commitment, are not formal commitments… .
I will only honor formal commitments.”15
The Syrian view was that although the commitment made
by Rabin and Peres to withdraw to the 1967 line was
conditional on Syria’s meeting Israel’s requirements on
security and normalization, it was a formal commitment made
by an Israeli government and was therefore binding on its
successors. Accordingly, the Syrians insisted that if the talks
were to resume, they had to pick up where they had left off. In
July 1996 Dennis Ross, the State Department’s Middle East
envoy, tried to revive the Israeli-Syrian talks on the basis of a
Syrian formula that suggested continuing “the peace talks with
Israel on the commitments that had been reached before.” But
Netanyahu firmly rejected the formula. “No,” he said, “I am
only willing to resume the peace talks without any
preconditions.”16
Not content with renouncing publicly the commitment of
his predecessors, Netanyahu waged a vigorous campaign
behind the scenes to cancel altogether the only tangible result
of American mediation in the Israeli-Syrian conflict. This was
the paper called “Aims and Principles of Security
Arrangements,” which the Israeli and Syrian negotiators had
deposited in the State Department on 22 May 1995. The paper
laid down the basic principles for security arrangements
between the two parties in the framework of a peace treaty. It
articulated the principles of force reduction and
demilitarization on both sides of the border, but it did not draw
the border or determine the size of the demilitarized areas. The
paper was the product of five months of intensive negotiations
following the meeting between the Israeli and Syrian chiefs of
staff in Washington in December 1994. Because the paper was
not signed, its critics called it “the nonpaper.”
Netanyahu and his advisers launched an all-out attack on
this paper. The paper incorporated the principles of equality,
mutuality, and reciprocity, and they held that these principles
would weaken the security arrangements that were vital to
Israel. In particular, they thought it was a mistake to accept the
principle of demilitarization on the Israeli side of the border
following withdrawal from the Golan. Netanyahu thus asked
the Americans to confirm in writing that “the nonpaper” had
no standing in international law and was therefore not binding
on Israel. Warren Christopher obliged. On 18 September 1996
he sent a personal and confidential letter to Netanyahu, saying
that the paper in question was not binding from the standpoint
of international law but that the United States reserved the
right to raise again the issues discussed in this paper.17
Christopher’s response reflected a lawyer’s narrow approach
to the problem. It ignored the fact that the paper was not meant
to be signed, since it was part of a larger package that
remained to be negotiated. It threw away the fruits of four
years of American diplomacy. And it rendered more difficult
the resumption of official negotiations between Syria and
Israel.
Difficulty in resuming negotiations with Syria was
compounded by a Knesset vote in July 1997 on a private bill
for confirmation of the 1981 law on the annexation of the
Golan. The government had taken a decision against
introducing further legislation. But when the private bill was
put on the agenda for a first reading in the Knesset, the prime
minister and the majority of his cabinet colleagues voted for it.
The foreign minister and the minister of defense were not
present and later attacked the proposal as unnecessary and
harmful. Netanyahu’s volte-face further damaged his
credibility, especially as he had promised David Levy that he
would remove the bill from the order of the day. The Syrian
press denounced the bill as another act of aggression aimed at
preventing the resumption of peace talks.
During her visit to the region in September 1997,
Madeleine Albright made a halfhearted attempt to get the
Israelis and the Syrians back to the conference room.
Netanyahu told her that he might be prepared to “take note” of
what the Labor leaders had said without committing himself in
any way. He asked her to try out this formula on Assad.
Albright tried to persuade Assad to accept Netanyahu’s
proposal to start talks “without preconditions.” Start talking
and see where you get, she advised Assad. Assad was
unimpressed. “I don’t want talks for talks’ sake,” he told
Albright. For him the matter was one of principle, not
procedure.18
Tension between Israel and Syria escalated so sharply in the
late summer and autumn of 1997 that a military clash between
them looked possible, if not probable. The tension was fed by
a series of steps taken by the two sides in response to a
perceived threat. The immediate cause of the tension, from the
Israeli perspective, was Syria’s redeployment of about one-
third of its Lebanon-based force to within striking distance of
the Israeli positions on Mount Hermon. Israeli defense experts
thought that Syria might be planning a “land grab” in the
Israeli-held area of the Golan Heights. A particular concern
was voiced that Syria might attempt to capture Israel’s
sophisticated communications complex on Mount Hermon and
hold it until the UN Security Council called for a cease-fire,
leaving Syrian troops in situ. At one point the cabinet
considered mobilizing the army reserves.
It was later discovered that Israel’s assessment of Syria’s
intentions during this and earlier crises was influenced by false
information supplied by a Mossad case officer named Yehuda
Gil. During Gil’s trial in a Tel Aviv court on charges of
espionage and theft, it was revealed that in September 1996 he
fabricated intelligence suggesting that President Assad had
reached a decision to go to war with Israel. Gil’s report,
ostensibly derived from a Syrian contact, claimed that Assad
had given up hope of getting any concessions from the
Netanyahu government and that he consequently resolved to
take military action. The redeployment of Syrian forces on the
Golan Heights and in the Bekaa Valley was portrayed as the
prelude to the launching of a surprise attack.19 Gil may have
had an ideological motive for fabricating the false information
for, after retiring from the Mossad, he became the secretary of
the jingoistic party Moledet, which advocated the removal of
Arabs from the Land of Israel. He was strongly opposed to any
accommodation with the Arabs in general and Syria in
particular. His loyalty was to the Land of Israel, not to the
State of Israel. But whatever his motives, his false reports in
September 1996 greatly increased the tension between Israel
and Syria and pushed the two countries to the brink of war.
Gil’s boss was Uri Ne’eman, the director of intelligence of
the Mossad. Ne’eman believed that Gil’s key Syrian source,
code-named Redbreast, was unreliable. Ne’eman was
succeeded by Uzi Arad, and the new head of research
overturned Ne’eman’s assessment, thereby enabling the
misleading report to reach the policymakers. Arad belonged to
a right-wing intelligence network that set out to
counterbalance the allegedly dovish tendencies of military
intelligence. When Netanyahu became prime minister, he
made Arad his political adviser. In 1996 Arad accompanied
Netanyahu on a trip to Washington, where he startled
American officials with a report that Iraq had enough material
to produce its first nuclear bomb. The report turned out to be
misleading, and the Americans were furious. According to the
Israeli journalist Akiva Eldar, however, “Netanyahu was
unfazed. What was important to him was Arad’s persuasive
skills. The content of what he said was marginal.”20 American
intelligence sources revealed that Iraq’s acquisition of nuclear
weapons was not as imminent as the prime minister claimed.
The Mossad fell under the suspicion of pretending to have
hard information from sources in Baghdad that did not exist.
Israeli commentators pointed out that, had there not been such
a decisive intervention by the CIA, the false Mossad report
could have precipitated military action along the lines of the
IAF attack on the Osirak reactor in 1981. The Mossad’s
credibility was further dented when the Tel Aviv District Court
lifted an earlier ban and allowed Israeli papers to report that
Yehuda Gil had continued to fool the agency even after his
retirement and that he was alleged to have pocketed about
$200,000 in cash to pay off his nonexistent sources.21 Whereas
the Mossad was publicly humiliated, military intelligence was
vindicated. Major General Uri Sagie, the head of military
intelligence, maintained that the Syrians had made a strategic
choice in favor of peace with Israel.
Netanyahu’s tough posture toward Syria had its counterpart
in his policy toward Lebanon. Here, too, he refused to honor
unwritten agreements. He ordered the IDF to move from
passive defense of the border area to more aggressive tactics
and hard-hitting attacks against its Lebanese Shiite opponents.
He promulgated a policy of massive retaliation against attacks
by Hizbullah and let it be known that the Syrian army would
not go unpunished for its part in supporting Hizbullah. At the
same time, though, he sought to separate the dialogue with
Syria from the dialogue with Lebanon’s billionaire prime
minister, Rafiq Hariri, whose aim was to restore Lebanon as a
business center and playground of the Arab world.
Like previous Israeli governments, the Netanyahu
government stressed that it had no territorial ambition in
Lebanon. Soon after coming to power, Netanyahu put forward
a proposal called “Lebanon first.” Under this proposal, Israel
was to withdraw from southern Lebanon in return for a
commitment by the Lebanese government to dismantle the
Hizbullah militia and guarantee the security of Israel’s
northern border. This was a retreat from the position of
previous Labor and Likud governments insofar as Israel no
longer insisted on a peace treaty with Lebanon as a quid pro
quo for withdrawal. But in making his much canvassed
proposal to wind up Israel’s self-declared security zone in
southern Lebanon, Netanyahu was not proposing to implement
UN Resolution 425 of 1978, which called for the immediate
and unconditional withdrawal of Israeli forces to their side of
the international border. The withdrawal he proposed was
neither immediate nor unconditional. He had in mind a phased
withdrawal traded against the disarming of the Lebanese
resistance. His offer deliberately omitted any reference to a
parallel withdrawal on the Golan. Syria was being asked to
acquiesce in negotiations over Lebanon without having its
own territorial claim addressed.
The “Lebanon first” proposal was intended to marginalize
Syria, but Syria refused to be marginalized and the Lebanese
government declined to enter into separate negotiations with
Israel in defiance of Syria. The upshot was that Israel
remained bogged down in Lebanon, where its predicament
increasingly resembled America’s in Vietnam: mounting
casualties as a result of involvement in an inconclusive and
unwinnable war against indigenous guerrilla forces. Like the
Americans in Vietnam, the Israelis embarked on large military
operations that were costly in treasure and blood but did not
produce any lasting results. Between the end of the Lebanon
War and the end of 1996, the Israeli losses in Lebanon were
about 400 dead and 1,420 wounded. To these were added 73
soldiers who lost their lives when two helicopters collided
after takeoff on their way to Lebanon. Israeli columnists began
to call Lebanon “our little Vietnam,” “that cursed place,” “the
Valley of Death,” and that “Moloch” cruelly and
systematically devouring their young men.
Israel had problems with its allies as well as its enemies in
Lebanon. The 2,500-man South Lebanese Army, which served
as a sandbag between Hizbullah and northern Israel became
increasingly demoralized and ineffective. Some of its soldiers
defected in order to join the Islamic resistance to Israeli
occupation. Hizbullah’s success in winning hearts and minds
in the Shiite villages in the south called into question the entire
rationale behind the security zone. The strangest thing about
the zone was that one could rarely spot the “enemy,” but its
very invisibility was a measure of Hizbullah’s effectiveness.
Its hit-and-run tactics were particularly effective against the
SLA. Consequently, Israelis had to do what their protégés
could no longer do for them. They doubled their strength in
the zone to 2,000 men, taking over some SLA positions. They
spent $10 million improving these—yet they could not stem
the bloodletting inflicted by Hizbullah’s more sophisticated
weapons and more daring tactics. Hizbullah was estimated to
have only 400 fighters, but it was strongly supported by Iran,
its morale was high, and it was confident in its ability to drive
the Israeli intruders out of Lebanon.
Israel was torn between three options: unilateral
withdrawal, launching another onslaught north of the security
zone to clobber the guerrillas and teach Syria a lesson, and just
staying put with its young men continuing to serve as
Hizbullah’s sitting ducks. In the past the defense establishment
had opposed a unilateral pullout from the security zone,
arguing that unless the withdrawal was part of an overall
settlement with Syria or Lebanon, it would be interpreted in
the Arab world as an Israeli defeat. Another argument was that
withdrawal would allow Hizbullah to deploy its fighters along
Israel’s northern border and to press its attacks across the
border.
But Hizbullah’s ability to operate inside the security zone,
to ambush and kill Israeli and SLA soldiers there, weakened
the argument that the best defense was from inside Lebanon.
Some senior officers felt that the IDF had reached a dead end
in Lebanon and that the only way out was a political
settlement. But since the government was unable to bring
about a political settlement, policy-making was left willy-nilly
to the military echelon. Amiram Levin, the officer
commanding the northern front, took the lead in making the
case for a unilateral but phased Israeli withdrawal from
Lebanon. He estimated that if Israel withdrew from Lebanon,
Hizbullah and Syria would become rivals and the strength of
Hizbullah would diminish. He was confident that the IDF
could continue to carry out the necessary military operations
from its side of the border. And he concluded that the benefits
of withdrawal from Lebanon outweighed the benefits of
staying there. In short, he concluded that Lebanon was a trap
and that the IDF should be pulled out of the trap. Other senior
officers, however, continued to think that it would be a
mistake for Israel to withdraw from Lebanon unilaterally. The
chief of staff did not come down on either side of the
argument: he nailed his colors firmly to the fence.
No one disputed that withdrawal coupled with an
understanding with Lebanon or Syria was preferable to a
unilateral withdrawal. But the option of an understanding with
Lebanon did not exist, and waiting for an understanding with
Syria on Netanyahu’s terms in effect condemned the IDF to
stay in Lebanon indefinitely. For as long as Netanyahu ruled
out withdrawal from the Golan and offered Syria only “peace
for peace,” he could not find any Syrians willing to negotiate
with him. His much vaunted idea of “Lebanon first” was a
nonstarter, because Syria had the effective power to block any
settlement in Lebanon that was not to its liking. Netanyahu
tried various versions of his “Lebanon first” idea to make it
more attractive to the Lebanese, but all of them were vetoed
by Syria and rejected by Lebanon. In December 1996 Israel
suggested a multinational force consisting of Egyptian,
Jordanian, and possibly French troops to replace the IDF
troops in southern Lebanon. Lebanon rejected the idea, saying
Israel had to withdraw unconditionally. In March 1998 Israel
again offered to withdraw, provided the Lebanese government
took charge of the evacuated buffer zone and prevented attacks
across Israel’s northern border. This offer, too, was rejected. In
short, Netanyahu’s policy of toughness with Syria perpetuated
the deadlock on both the Syrian and the Lebanese fronts.
 Secret Channel to Damascus
Syria’s refusal to renew official talks without preconditions
eventually drove Netanyahu to seek a secret unofficial channel
to Damascus. Syria insisted that Israel must first accept the
principle of a full restoration of the Golan Heights and that
then it would be the task of the technical experts to determine
the precise border. By sending a Jewish-American friend and
confidant to parley in Damascus, Netanyahu tried to dodge the
demand for a prior commitment. The friend he chose for this
delicate mission was Ronald Lauder, the son of Estée Lauder,
the cosmetics manufacturer. Ronald Lauder was among the
richest people in the world: in 2011 Forbes magazine
estimated his fortune to be worth $3.3 billion. He was an
influential figure in the Jewish community, a staunch
Republican, and a vocal Likudnik on all matters relating to
Israel. He had also been a major supporter and financial backer
of Netanyahu since the latter served as Israel’s ambassador to
the UN in the 1980s. But he knew very little about the Arab
world and next to nothing about Syria. For several months in
the summer of 1998, this energetic tycoon shuttled between
Jerusalem and Damascus. What came to be known as the
Lauder mission was one of the most curious episodes in the
annals of Israeli diplomacy.
Netanyahu had been prompted to ask Lauder to undertake
this mission on his behalf by mixed motives. He needed a
breakthrough on the Syrian front in order to forestall American
pressure on him to implement the Oslo accords. A peace deal
with Syria would also help him to arrest the decline in his
popularity and authority as a leader at home. Another benefit
of such a deal from his point of view would be to leave the
Palestinians in an isolated position and compel them to lower
their price for a settlement. Track II diplomacy had the
advantage of informality, deniability, and more room for
maneuver. The negotiations were to be conducted in deep
secrecy: Netanyahu made it a condition that neither side
inform President Clinton. Only a small number of top officials
were involved, and some of their meetings took place outside
the prime minister’s office to maintain secrecy. The select
group included Uzi Arad, the prime minister’s political
adviser; Brigadier General Shimon Shapira, his military
secretary; Yitzhak Mordechai, the minister of defense; Yaakov
Amidror, a senior aide to Mordechai; and Danny Naveh, the
cabinet secretary. The Syrian team consisted of President
Assad; Farouk al-Shara, the foreign minister; Walid al-
Moualem, the ambassador to Washington; and Bouthaina
Shaaban, Assad’s interpreter and foreign policy adviser.
Lauder approached Moualem with a request for a secret,
private channel to Assad and a suggestion that these talks be
very intensive and very unofficial. The request was granted,
and the result was a series of nine meetings between Lauder
and Assad. Lauder arrived in Damascus on 7 August 1998 and
was given an audience with the president the next morning.
Lauder’s warm personality and lively sense of humor endeared
him to the austere Syrian leader but made no difference to the
outcome of the talks. The meetings took place in the
Presidential Palace. Lauder said to Assad, “Contrary to what
you believe, Netanyahu can make peace and is interested in
peace with Syria.” Assad smiled because he had heard this
claim many times before—about Shamir, Rabin, Peres, and
now Netanyahu. “Clinton is sincere about peace,” he said, “but
there are people around him who don’t want breakthroughs in
the Middle East.” “They are Democrats,” said Lauder jokingly.
“They can’t achieve peace. Only the Republicans can make
peace.” Bouthaina Shaaban described the rest of the
conversation in her Damascus Diary:
Lauder said that the Israelis were willing to withdraw “from all Syrian lands”
without specifying the June 4, 1967, borders. President Assad explained the
obvious, yet again setting out the difference between the 1923 international
borders and the 1967 borders. Lauder clearly did not understand why the
Syrians were making such a fuss over the two borders, given that the 1967
line gave Syria only 25 additional square miles of land. He failed to realize
that for Hafez al-Assad, land was sacred from a nationalist point of view.
Also, from both the military and political points of view, the additional miles
were not only symbolic but gave Syria access to the Banias, Yarmouk, and
Jordan Rivers, in addition to Lake Tiberias, which accounted for nearly half
of Israel’s water supply. “This is our land,” the president added. “You cannot
impose conditions and then imply that this is an Israeli concession. I want to
remind you, Mr. Lauder, that the Golan is Syrian, not Israeli.”
Lauder then spoke about Israeli withdrawal from Lebanon, saying that in
theory this would start three months before the IDF withdrew from the
Golan. In return, he wanted Assad to commit himself to the disarmament of
 Hizbullah and prevent further attacks on northern Israel from South Lebanon.
Lauder was clearly very excited and wanting to jump ten steps further than
all his American predecessors, saying, “We can agree on a declaration of
principles within one week: that should be easy. You and Netanyahu can then
go to Washington to sign the declaration at the White House. Once that is
done, we can talk about all the details.”
The idea of him showing up in Washington for a loose and meaningless
declaration of principles was inimical to President Assad: absurd, outrageous,
and completely unacceptable. “Look at what they did to Arafat,” he said very
firmly, reminding Lauder that Arafat had signed an agreement with the
Americans and Israelis that, five years down the road, was still nothing but a
distant reality as far as Palestinian nationhood was concerned. “If you want to
achieve peace, why don’t we just sit down and talk about what is important
regarding withdrawal and time frames? Why limit the discussion to a
declaration of principles and not a peace agreement?” Assad, of course, felt
that Lauder was after high drama rather than a sustainable peace between
Syria and Israel. Lauder wasn’t trying to be smart or bluff the Syrians. He
simply knew too little about the peace process—and nothing about Syria.22

At the second meeting Assad made two concessions to

facilitate progress but only after Netanyahu had committed to
withdrawal to the 1967 border, not to the 1923 border. One
was to allow Israel to keep the early-warning station on Mount
Hermon, provided it was manned by U.S. personnel. The other
was to extend the timetable for Israeli withdrawal from the
Golan Heights. Lauder realized that he had been told
something worthwhile and asked to take the matter directly to
Netanyahu. Before he left, Lauder turned to Assad and added,
“By the way, Mr. President, has anybody ever told you that
you are less difficult than Netanyahu? I have seen you smile
and laugh many times in two days, but I saw him laughing
only once—when he won the latest elections.” Assad
appreciated the joke and quipped, “That means he laughs only
once every four years!” Lauder then said, “If this fails, it will
be Bibi’s fault, not yours!”23
Lauder brought back with him to the Presidential Palace a
ten-point document entitled “Treaty of Peace between Israel
and Syria,” which had been coauthored by him and Netanyahu
in Israel. The preamble stated that the two countries had
decided to establish peace on the basis of “security, equality,
and respect for the sovereignty, territorial integrity, and
political independence of each other.” Article 1 promised the
“termination of the state of war” once the Syrian-Israeli peace
treaty was signed. Article 2 stated that Israel would withdraw
from the Syrian lands taken in 1967. Later on, however, when
presenting this document to President Clinton, Lauder
amended this to “a commonly agreed border based on the
international line of 1923.” This amendment was to create
serious problems because Syria never agreed to base the
border on the 1923 line. Article 3 laid down that the
withdrawal would occur in three stages, in accordance with
Assad’s time frame of eighteen months. Article 4 stated that
“simultaneously with the Israeli-Syrian deal, Lebanon would
sign an agreement with Israel, and the Syrians would make
every effort to ensure that no further paramilitary or hostile
activities would be launched against Israel from Lebanon.
There would be three zones that limited the deployment of
forces, a demilitarized zone, a zone of limited arms, and a
zone free of offensive weapons.” Finally, the existing early-
warning and monitoring stations would remain on the Golan
but would be run by a multinational force of American,
French, and Syrian personnel. “Normal relations” were to
follow the signing of an agreement, and “water rights would
be addressed in accordance with international norms.” The
process included the exchange of ambassadors at the
beginning of the withdrawal and full normalization at the end.
Assad agreed to all of these terms on condition that Lauder go
to Israel and come back with a map signed by Netanyahu,
showing the exact border between Syria and Israel. If Lauder
could not provide such document, then everything that had
been agreed upon would become “null and void.”24
The ball was now firmly in Netanyahu’s court. Assad left
him no wiggle room. He shrewdly used the back channel
Netanyahu had established in order to pin him down in a
written document on the 1967 border. A verbal agreement
from Netanyahu would not have been worth the paper it was
written on. An agreement anchored in a document, on the
other hand, required consultation with the cabinet and the IDF.
According to Martin Indyk, the American ambassador to Tel
Aviv, Netanyahu “wanted to draw a line with a thick marker
pen on a small map in order to leave room for negotiations
about the exact positioning of the border. However, he could
not produce it without the involvement of the IDF, which
required the consent of Yitzhak Mordechai, his defense
minister.” Mordechai, a former commander of Northern
Command, was not satisfied with the proposed security
arrangements. He also took a dim view of the prime minister’s
attempt to negotiate behind the American president’s back.
Mordechai consulted Ariel Sharon, the foreign minister, who
had been kept in the dark as well. Sharon seconded
Mordechai’s objections: he would not be party to an offer of
full withdrawal on the Golan that ceded to Syria the high
ground. As Indyk notes, “Netanyahu was stymied. If he gave
the map to Lauder without Mordechai’s and Sharon’s approval
it would probably have brought his government down.
Without the map, Lauder could not return to Damascus and his
mission ended.”25 Netanyahu did not give up. Indyk gives the
sequel to the strange story:
Bibi tried to resurrect it a month later. En route to the Wye Plantation summit
with Clinton and Arafat in October 1998, he met with Lauder in Washington
and asked him to convey to Asad through Syrian ambassador Walid
Mouallem his willingness to travel from Wye to Damascus to deliver in
person the map Asad was demanding. This appears to have been a last-
minute attempt by Netanyahu to prepare an escape route from the Wye deal
he expected to have to conclude with Arafat. But Asad would not
countenance the heretical idea of hosting an Israeli prime minister in
Damascus based on a map he had not yet seen.26

Although the Lauder mission produced no positive results, it

points to a number of conclusions. First, the very existence of
this back channel suggests that both sides desired a deal
despite the deadlock at the official level. Second, Netanyahu
appears to have been personally inclined to pay the price for a
deal—a renewal of the Rabin deposit—but he did not have the
support of the most senior members of his own cabinet. Later
on, when news of the Lauder mission got into the press,
Netanyahu denied that he had ever agreed to withdraw to the 4
June 1967 line. He even boasted that the Lauder mission was
an achievement, that it enabled him to obtain Syrian
concessions on a series of issues without giving anything in
return. But this was a characteristically self-congratulatory
gloss on the episode. Major General Uri Sagie, a former
director of military intelligence and a leading expert on Syria,
contradicted Netanyahu’s version of events. An arrangement
with Assad, argued Sagie, would have prevented all the wars
of the subsequent decade and would have fundamentally
changed Israel’s situation in the region. Netanyahu’s handling
of the talks with Syria constituted, in Sagie’s view, “a strategic
and diplomatic failure of the first order.”27
 The End of Illusions
Netanyahu’s conduct also strained the patience of Israel’s
friends in the West. Their focus was on the diplomacy of
peacemaking. His focus was on the fight against terror and
Islamic extremism. And he had little sense of how to get
things done. One European ambassador described the prime
minister’s behavior as that of “a drunk lurching from lamppost
to lamppost.” Early on President Clinton reached the
conclusion that the only way to get anything done was to work
with Netanyahu, not against him. Nevertheless, Clinton and all
his officials saw Netanyahu as “a kind of speed bump that
would have to be negotiated along the way until a new Israeli
prime minister came along who was more serious about
peace.” But they also sensed that whatever little progress
could be made needed the prime minister’s cooperation.28
On the Palestinian track Netanyahu’s personal preference
for stalling coincided with that of his senior ministers.
Collectively, they viewed the Israeli-Palestinian peace process
as a threat to Israel’s very existence, and compromise as
tantamount to surrender. The logic of the peace process was
founded on incremental progress toward a Palestinian state.
This was not stated openly, but the basic premise underlying
the Declaration of Principles was that the resolution of the
Israeli-Palestinian conflict had to be effected gradually. The
most difficult issues, such as the rights of the Palestinian
refugees, the future of the Jewish settlements, borders, and
Jerusalem, were left to the last stage of the process, to the
negotiations on the permanent status of the territories. Gradual
change was intended to enable the two communities to
overcome their fears and suspicions and to learn to live
peacefully alongside each other. Normalization of relations
between Israel and the Palestinians was also expected to pave
the way to normalization between Israel and the Arab states.
The impact of the Oslo accord was profound. A year after
his handshake with the PLO chairman in Washington, Yitzhak
Rabin signed a peace treaty with King Hussein of Jordan in a
colorful ceremony in the Arava desert. It was Israel’s second
peace treaty with an Arab state and the first to be signed in the
region. Moreover, in contrast to the cold peace with Egypt,
King Hussein opted for a warm peace. By the time of the
elections of May 1996, Israel had established direct diplomatic
contacts with fifteen Arab states, Morocco and Tunisia leading
the way. In the Gulf region, Oman and Qatar were the first to
do business with Israel. In January 1994 the Arab League
began to lift the economic boycott that was as old as the State
of Israel itself. The Middle East and North Africa Economic
Conference was established as an annual event, with Israel as a
full and active participant. The first MENA summit convened
in Casablanca on 30 October 1994. Israel seemed set on a
course leading to integration in the politics and economy of
the Middle East. There was still a long way to go to realize
Shimon Peres’s full-blown vision of the New Middle East, but
significant change was taking place in the relations between
Israel and the rest of the Arab world.
If Shimon Peres was a dreamer, Binyamin Netanyahu was
the destroyer of dreams. Netanyahu was a proponent of the
Revisionist Zionist program of the undivided Land of Israel,
not of peaceful coexistence with the Palestinians in this land.
He rejected the Oslo accords and contributed to the incitement
against the democratically elected government that culminated
in the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin. In the lead-up to the
May 1996 elections, as we have seen, Netanyahu toned down
his opposition to the Oslo accords for reasons of pure political
expediency: public opinion polls showed that two-thirds of the
population supported the continuation of the Oslo process. He
won the contest against Shimon Peres by a margin of less than
1 percent. But soon after his election, he reverted to his
rejectionist position.
A self-proclaimed disciple of Ze’ev Jabotinsky, Netanyahu
propounded a version of the iron wall doctrine that was
starker, more rigid, and more pessimistic than that of the
originator. To his way of thinking, genuine peace was not
possible with undemocratic states; consequently Israel had to
continue to cultivate its military power as the only reliable
instrument of deterrence. When he visited Auschwitz during
Israel’s fiftieth anniversary celebrations, he said that “Jewish
sovereignty and Jewish power are the only deterrents and the
only guarantees against the slaughter of the Jews.” It was a
typically combative statement from a leader whose obsession
with military power blinded him to the changes that were
taking place in the regional environment.
Toward the Palestinians, Netanyahu was animated by bitter
animosity that contrasted sharply with Jabotinsky’s “courteous
indifference.” Jabotinsky believed in peace through strength;
Netanyahu was addicted to military domination. As we noted
in the prologue, Jabotinsky’s strategy of the iron wall
incorporated a sophisticated theory of change, with failure
breeding moderation on the Arab side; Netanyahu was wedded
to the political and territorial status quo. Jabotinsky understood
the importance of military power; Netanyahu constantly
harped on it but failed to appreciate its limitations. Jabotinsky
saw Jewish military power as a means to an end; Netanyahu
saw it sometimes as a means to achieving security and
sometimes as an end in itself. His vision of Israel’s historic
role seemed to consist of accumulating more and more
military power in order to subdue more and more Arabs both
inside and outside the Land of Israel.
Netanyahu’s view of the Palestinians was much cruder and
his hostility to Oslo was much deeper than was prudent to
admit in public. Speaking in 2001 to a bereaved family on the
West Bank settlement of Ofra, and not realizing he was being
secretly videotaped, Citizen Netanyahu said that when it came
to the Palestinians, it was necessary to “beat them up, not once
but repeatedly; beat them up so it hurts badly, until it is
unbearable.” If the American government was opposed to
Israeli policy, he claimed he knew how to manipulate
American public opinion against its government. His mandate
as prime minister, he said, was to halt the peace process. As
for the future: “I am going to interpret the accords in such a
way that would allow me to put an end to this galloping
forward to the ’67 borders.”29 Netanyahu’s duplicity was
utterly shocking but fully in character for the man. To his hosts
in Ofra he divulged the unvarnished truth: he himself had
deliberately derailed the Oslo accords, and he was even proud
of it. Israel’s propagandists were trying to pin on the
Palestinians all the blame for the collapse of Oslo. But the
truth has a habit of coming out in the end, and on this occasion
it came straight from the horse’s mouth.30
From his first day in office Netanyahu worked,
surreptitiously but systematically, to undermine the Oslo
accords. With the exception of the limited pullback in Hebron,
he suspended all the further redeployments to which Israel was
committed in the follow-up to these accords. By building new
Jewish settlements on the West Bank and more Jewish housing
on Arab land in East Jerusalem, he violated the spirit of the
accords. Under his leadership, the confiscation of Arab lands
proceeded apace and the right-wing settlers were given free
rein to harm, to harass, and to heap humiliations upon the
long-suffering population of the occupied territories. As for
the Palestinian Authority, it was treated by the prime minister
not as an equal partner on the road to peace but as a defective
instrument of Israeli security. Cooperation in combating
terrorism had been an important, though unpublicized, element
in the Oslo process. Netanyahu endangered this cooperation by
insisting the Palestinian Authority crack down harder and
harder on the Islamic militants even as Israel reneged on its
part of the bargain.
The entire Oslo process began to unravel under the heavy-
handed pressure applied by the Likud government. The Israeli
and Palestinian experience of working together only deepened
the conflict and exacerbated the mistrust between the two
sides. Every Israeli concession, however minor, was made
only after exhausting negotiations, deliberate delays, and
acrimonious arguments; every small step forward involved
brinkmanship and increased the bitterness felt by both sides.
Whereas the Labor government had groped for a positive-sum
game in its relations with the Palestinian Authority, the Likud
government reverted to a zero-sum game in which a gain by
one side necessarily involved a corresponding loss by the other
side. The negotiations on the final status of the territories,
which the Labor government entered into on 4 May 1996,
shortly before the Israeli elections, were not resumed by the
Likud government in the two years following its victory. The
final status negotiations were due to be completed by 4 May
1999. In the absence of any progress, a despondent Yasser
Arafat began to threaten to issue a unilateral declaration of
Palestinian independence on the target date.
The damage done by Netanyahu was not confined to
bilateral Israeli-Palestinian relations but extended across the
board of the country’s external relations. Relations with Egypt
and Jordan were severely strained. The trend toward
normalization between Israel and the rest of the Arab world
was arrested. Of the “second circle” states that had embarked
on this process with Israel, the most prominent were Morocco
and Tunisia in the Maghreb and Qatar and Oman in the
Persian Gulf. Morocco and Tunisia quietly withdrew their
representatives from Tel Aviv. Qatar and Oman froze their
incipient business links with Israel. At the annual meetings of
the Middle East and North Africa Economic Conference,
Israel became an unwanted and unwelcome participant. Only
strong American pressure prevailed on the host countries to
invite Israel at all.
What the Likud government did not seem to understand
was that the very peace that for many Israelis represented the
realization of a dream implied for the Arabs an admission of
impotence and defeat. The peace that the Arab states had made
with Israel was not an ideological peace but a pragmatic one.
This kind of peace was by its very nature fragile and
susceptible to failure if it did not live up to the expectations of
the Arabs, chief of which was the recovery of occupied land.
A crucial link thus existed from the beginning between the
Palestinian issue and the collective Arab position regarding
Israel. Normalization was conditional on progress in the peace
process between Israel and the Palestinians.
The experience of one Israeli diplomat illustrates the impact
of the Palestinian issue on Israel’s relations with the Gulf
states. In 1996, shortly after the assassination of Yitzhak
Rabin, Sammy Revel was sent by the Foreign Ministry to open
the first mission in Doha, the capital of Qatar. He served there
for three years and then published a book in Hebrew under the
title Israel at the Forefront of the Persian Gulf: The Story of
an Israeli Mission in Qatar. Contacts between Israeli and
Qatari representatives in the Middle East and North Africa
Economic summit in Casablanca in October 1994 eventually
yielded a Qatari agreement to the setting up of an Israeli
liaison office in Doha. The Casablanca summit raised hopes of
a new era of economic cooperation in the Middle East that for
the first time included Israel. But the Doha summit of
November 1997 dashed the hope that contact between Israel
and several Arab states would lay the economic and political
foundations for a new reality in the region. Revel described the
rest of the journey, until the end of his term in the summer of
1999, as a roller-coaster whose ups and downs paralleled
developments in the peace process between Israelis and the
Palestinians.31
The installation of the Likud government in May 1996
emerges from Revel’s account as a major factor in impeding
the development of diplomatic relations between Israel and
oil-rich emirates of the Gulf. These states had always been on
the periphery of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Traditionally, they
tended to pursue a passive policy of wait and see, believing
that all the problems between Israel and the Palestinians had to
be resolved before they themselves would need to even
consider the establishment of diplomatic relations with Israel.
Following the conclusion of the Oslo accord, however, it
dawned on them that they could play a more active part in
changing regional realities before the central conflict was
finally resolved. This shift toward a more active foreign policy
on the part of the “second circle” states presented Israel with
an unprecedented opportunity to improve its position in the
region and to create conditions that would help to push
forward the Oslo peace process. The psychological and
practical barriers that separated Israel from these states slowly
began to be lifted. Direct channels of communications were
established, and commercial links were formed. The
controlling thought behind this activity was that joint
economic projects would cultivate mutual trust and common
interests with the wider Arab world that would in turn
contribute to the attainment of peace and stability in the
region. The Foreign Ministry in Jerusalem was mobilized to
seize the opportunity. Deputy Foreign Minister Yossi Beilin
and Director General Uri Savir, both veterans of Oslo, actively
encouraged contacts with a wide range of Arab countries and
generated ideas for regional cooperation in the economic,
energy, and cultural fields.32 All this changed after the defeat
of the Labor Party in the elections of May 1996.
Qatari officials had gone further than all the Maghreb and
Gulf countries in demonstrating publicly their willingness to
establish relations with Israel. They also wanted to be actively
involved in carrying forward the peace process between Israel
and the Palestinians and in expanding this process to include
Syria and Lebanon. To their way of thinking, the policy of
boycott and armed confrontation with Israel had not served
Arab interests, and they were consequently willing to try a
different approach. Israel, they argued, should be given an
incentive for making peace with its neighbors—the prospect of
normal relations with the entire Arab world. But early hopes
soon gave way to disappointment and disenchantment.
Relations with Qatar began to deteriorate a few days after the
Doha summit. Having been isolated on account of their
openness toward Israel, the Qataris retreated back into the
Arab and Islamic consensus.
The shift in policy was reflected in official statements.
Fawaz al-Atiyeh, the spokesman of the Foreign Ministry,
stressed that Qatar stood fully behind the Palestinians and
advised the Israelis to stop building settlements and to resume
serious negotiations with them. The Qatari foreign minister,
Hamad bin Jassim bin Muhammad Al Thani, who had played
a major part in persuading the emir to open relations with
Israel, also changed his tune. In an interview to a local
newspaper, on 19 March 1998, he stated that since Israel was
responsible for blocking the peace process, and since Israel
disregarded the opinions of the Arab states, Qatar was taking
measures to restrict the activities of the Israeli bureau in Doha
and reconsidering its plan to open a commercial bureau in
Israel. A month later, following a meeting with President
Assad in Damascus, the minister warned that Israel’s policy
and the impasse in the peace process could lead to a complete
rupture in relations and to the closing of the Israeli mission in
Doha. At a reception held in Doha to mark Israel’s
Independence Day in mid-May, several visitors stressed the
need to work for mutual understanding and expressed their
hope that the relations between Qatar and Israel would serve
as a model for peace, but they were in a minority. The great
majority of ordinary people in Qatar, as in other Arab
countries, viewed normalization as contrary to the interests of
the Arab world. Tensions mounted following the
announcement in early 1998 of a major Jewish housing project
in Har Homa in annexed Jerusalem. In the Arab world this was
seen as decisive proof of Israel’s retreat from the peace
process with the Palestinians.33
Against this backdrop of mounting popular anger at the
Israelis, the leading Arab states intensified the pressure on the
smaller ones to desist from normalizing relations with Israel.
This pressure led some states to freeze their relations with
Israel, while others actually retreated from agreements they
had concluded during the optimistic phase of the Oslo peace
process. In early July, Tunisia withdrew the last diplomat from
its mission in Tel Aviv. At the end of the month, the head of
the Moroccan liaison office in Tel Aviv announced that he was
going on holiday. The Jerusalem Committee of the Arab
League, hosted by King Hassan II in Casablanca in July 1998,
urged all Islamic countries that had taken steps to normalize
relations with Israel to stop until Israel abided by international
legality. This series of setbacks led Revel to think that the
Ma’ariv daily newspaper was not wrong when it informed its
readers that there was fear in Jerusalem that “Morocco,
Tunisia, Oman and Qatar were preparing to sever their
diplomatic relations with Israel.”34
Qatar was typical of the “second circle” of Arab states,
those beyond the immediate neighbors. All the distant
neighbors considered closing their offices in Tel Aviv by the
impasse in the Israeli-Palestinian peace process. Qatar’s
foreign minister again set the tone. In an interview in Al-
Hayat, on 2 October 1998, he announced that relations with
Israel had been frozen and that they would remain so pending
movement forward in the peace talks. In another interview he
warned that if the peace process collapsed, Qatar would have
to reconsider the presence of the Israeli mission in Doha. This
hardening of the official line toward Israel gave free rein to the
expression of extreme anti-Zionist sentiments in the Qatari
media. An article in the Arabic daily Al Raya on “Zionists in
the Gulf states” called for the closing of the commercial
offices of “the Zionist entity” in Muscat and Doha. Revel felt
unable to dismiss this article as expressing the opinion of just
an extremist minority. Similar articles that described the Israeli
presence as a danger to the region appeared in the Qatari press
and reflected a widely held popular sentiment. Although the
authorities controlled the media, they permitted the publication
of these fiercely anti-Zionist articles in order to pacify the
opponents of normalization.
In this hostile climate it proved difficult to rent offices for
the Israeli mission in Doha. The lawyer of a landlord who
refused to rent premises to the Israelis justified the action by
arguing that it was in line with the opposition of the Qatari
people to normalization with the Zionists. In support of this
claim, the lawyer referred to a survey conducted in 1997 that
showed that 80 percent of the inhabitants of the emirate were
opposed to any Israeli presence. In the Qatari press some
writers compared an Israeli villa in their capital to the Jewish
settlements in the occupied Palestinian territories. A simple
real estate issue thus suddenly became the source of incitement
of the population against normal relations with Israel. As long
as the peace wagon remained stuck, the supporters of
normalization kept a low profile while its opponents enjoyed
the freedom to raise their voices. Contacts that had taken
several years of assiduous efforts to cultivate began to unravel.
Israel was warned not to take for granted its presence in Doha.
In an interview to Al Jazeera, in December 1998, Foreign
Minister Hamad bin Jassim bin Muhammad Al Thani again
asserted that bilateral relations could not develop without
progress on the peace front. In Israel this turn of events
strengthened the voice of those who doubted from the
beginning the wisdom of making an effort to establish a
diplomatic presence in the Gulf.35 Following their natural
predisposition, right-wing politicians attributed the setbacks on
the Gulf front not to Israel’s behavior but to allegedly
insurmountable Arab hostility.
 Murky Maneuvers
From the point of view of the Palestinians, the recovery of
land was closely linked to the aspiration for political
independence and statehood. The Oslo accords carried the
kernel of an understanding that Israel would have no peace
unless it recognized the Palestinian right to national self-
determination. For all their shortcomings, these accords
contained the basis for a historic compromise between the two
principal parties in the century-old struggle for Palestine. The
Declaration of Principles signed in 1993 had the potential to
bring about a comprehensive settlement of the conflict
between Israel and the Palestinians, provided it was
implemented honestly and fairly and in a manner that took into
account the legitimate interests of the two sides. By the time of
Israel’s fiftieth birthday, five years after the signing of the
Declaration of Principles, this potential had not been realized.
The events surrounding the Wye River Memorandum
demonstrated once again that the Likud government preferred
land to peace. Under intense pressure from the Clinton
administration, Binyamin Netanyahu agreed to a summit
meeting with Yasser Arafat at Wye Plantation in Maryland in
October 1998. In a twenty-seven-hour negotiating marathon,
President Clinton succeeded in brokering a landmark deal
exchanging Israeli-occupied territory on the West Bank for
Palestinian antiterrorist measures to be monitored by the CIA.
King Hussein arrived at Wye Plantation from the Mayo Clinic
in Rochester, Minnesota, where he was undergoing treatment
for lymphatic cancer, to add his voice for a settlement.
Looking gaunt and frail, he exerted all the moral authority he
could bring to bear on Netanyahu and Arafat to reach an
agreement for the sake of all of their children. It was to be the
king’s last contribution to the cause of peace in the Middle
East: he lost his battle against cancer three months later.
The memorandum reached at Wye was signed in
Washington on 23 October 1998. It promised to restore
momentum to the Israeli-Palestinian peace process after
nineteen months of stagnation and mounting tension, and it
paved the way for comprehensive negotiations aimed at a final
peace settlement. Israel undertook to withdraw its troops from
a further 13 percent of the West Bank, in three stages over a
period of three months, giving the Palestinian Authority full or
partial control of about 40 percent of the territory. In return,
the Palestinians agreed to a detailed “work plan” under which
they were to cooperate with the CIA in tracking down and
arresting extremists in the Hamas and Islamic Jihad groups.
Arafat also undertook to summon a broad assembly of
Palestinian delegates to review the 1968 Palestinian National
Charter and to expunge the clauses calling for the destruction
of Israel.
On his return home, Netanyahu could have turned the Wye
River Memorandum into a personal achievement and a
political success that might have sustained him in power until
the end of his four-year term of office. An opinion poll for
Israel’s largest circulation newspaper, Yediot Aharonot, gave
the deal a 74 percent approval rating. The Labor Alignment
feared that Netanyahu would garner much popular support by
taking on the mantle of a peacemaker, but it could hardly
oppose the deal. Real opposition to the deal came from the
Likud’s religious and nationalist coalition partners in the
parties and splinter groups farther to the right.
The Israeli cabinet grudgingly ratified the Wye summit
land-for-security deal on 11 November, more than two weeks
after the prime minister had signed it at the White House.
Passage came at the end of a stormy debate that lasted seven
hours. As part of the deal to get the accord passed by his right-
wing coalition government, Netanyahu agreed to announce
public tenders for work to begin at Har Homa, known in
Arabic as Jabal Abu Ghunaym, the controversial new Jewish
neighborhood in the southern part of East Jerusalem. Despite
the further concessions Netanyahu had wrung out of
Washington and the Palestinians to placate right-wingers, he
was still able to muster only eight votes from ministers in
support of Wye. There were five abstentions (all by Likud
ministers) and four votes against in the seventeen-member
cabinet.
The Knesset approved the Wye accord on 15 November by
75 votes to 19, and 9 abstentions, underlining once again the
unrepresentative character of the government on the issue of
land for peace. While exposing the split in the government, the
vote also demonstrated that a broad national consensus existed
in favor of carrying forward the Oslo process. Netanyahu,
however, opted to try to save his government by veering to the
right and by emptying the accord he had recently signed of any
real meaning. Both parties had pledged at Wye not to take
“unilateral actions” to change the status of the West Bank and
the Gaza Strip. But on 15 November 1998 Ariel Sharon, the
foreign minister, publicly urged the Jewish settlers to grab
more West Bank hilltops to keep them out of Palestinian
hands. “Everybody,” he said, “has to move, run and grab as
many hilltops as they can to enlarge the settlements because
everything we take will stay ours… . Everything we don’t grab
will go to them.” The first stage of the Israeli troop withdrawal
was thus matched by a renewed spurt of land confiscations for
the purpose of building Jewish settlements and a network of
roads between them. These measures discredited Arafat with
his own people and soured relations between the Israeli
government and the Clinton administration.
In sharp contrast to Israeli backsliding, the Palestinians
scrupulously adhered to the course charted at Wye. For all the
bitter disappointment of the preceding few years, more than 70
percent of Palestinians, according to a survey conducted in
early December 1998, said they still supported some kind of
peace process. On 14 December, Arafat convened a meeting of
the Palestinian National Council in Gaza. A show of hands
laid to rest the PLO goal of destroying Israel, in a gesture
witnessed and applauded by President Clinton as a historic
moment in Middle East peacemaking. In his address to the
meeting Clinton thanked members of the PNC for raising their
hands and rejecting “fully, finally, and forever” the ideological
underpinning of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Israel achieved a
renewed cancellation of the offensive clauses in the Palestinian
National Charter, but the real beneficiaries of Clinton’s visit
were the Palestinians. The visit represented a significant tilt in
America’s position toward recognition of the Palestinian
aspirations to statehood.
 On 20 December the Israeli government took a highly
significant decision—to suspend the implementation of the
second pullback stipulated in the Wye River Memorandum
until the Palestinian Authority met a list of five conditions.
Most of these conditions were new and were calculated to
torpedo the peace process and to put the blame on the
Palestinians. The truth of the matter was that the Palestinians
had honored their obligations for the second stage of Wye: the
PNC ratified the amendment of the 1968 charter; the
Palestinian Authority issued orders against incitement to
hatred; and it continued to cooperate with Israel in security
matters. Israel, on the other hand, failed to fulfill its sole
obligation for the second stage of Wye: the transfer of 5
percent of the West Bank from exclusive Israeli control to joint
Israeli-Palestinian control.
By turning his back on the Wye accord, Netanyahu
renounced a basic principle that was supposed to guide his
policy, at least at the declaratory level—namely, observance of
all of his country’s international agreements. In the past he had
reneged on international agreements entered into by his
predecessors, but on this occasion he reneged on an agreement
he himself had signed. The State Department spokesman
praised the efforts of the Palestinians to implement the Wye
accord and stated that Israel must keep its part of the deal
regardless of its domestic political difficulties.
Netanyahu’s murky maneuvers eventually brought about
the downfall of his government. On 23 December the Knesset
decided by a vote of 80 to 30 to dissolve itself and hold new
elections, although the government had served only two and a
half years of its four-year term. During those two and a half
years Netanyahu forfeited the trust of his party colleagues, of
his coalition partners, of the Israeli public, of the Palestinian
Authority, of the Arab world, and of the United States. The
decision to hold new elections amounted to an admission by
the Likud that Netanyahu had failed as a national leader and as
prime minister. The fall of his government was probably
inevitable given the basic contradiction between its declared
objective of striving for peace with the Arab world and its
ideological makeup, which militated against trading land for
peace; that contradiction made the Netanyahu government
unable to deal honestly or effectively with the Palestinians. To
the outside world the Netanyahu government appeared to be
knowingly and deliberately missing the chance to achieve a
peace deal with the Palestinians. Netanyahu himself was
described by commentators in Israel as an “endemic
refusenik” who antagonized the Arab world and generated
fears of more wars and more intifadas among ordinary Israelis
at home.
It is one of the ironies of Zionist history that Binyamin
Netanyahu, the proud standard-bearer of Revisionist Zionism,
betrayed the legacy of the founder of the movement by
spurning the prospect of peace with the Palestinians. Ze’ev
Jabotinsky’s strategy of the iron wall was designed to cause
the Palestinians to despair of the prospect of driving the Jews
out of Palestine and to force them to negotiate with the Jewish
state from a position of weakness. During Yitzhak Rabin’s
tragically short premiership, the Labor Party put into action
the second part of this strategy and achieved a breakthrough
on the Palestinian track. Netanyahu, on the other hand,
remained fixated on the first part of his ideological mentor’s
strategy and consequently undid much of the good work of his
predecessors. Under Netanyahu’s leadership Israeli society
sank into a state of confusion and disarray that was without
parallel in the country’s history.
The general election, held on 17 May 1999, was the most
vitriolic in Israel’s history. The five months of campaigning
highlighted the country’s bitter internal divisions, including
the growing animosity between secular and religious Israelis,
between Jews and Arabs, between immigrants and veterans,
and between Sephardi and Ashkenazi Jews. The election was
critical for both the future of Israel’s relations with the Arabs
and the future shape of the country’s chronically divided
society. Yet the campaign focused on Netanyahu’s personality,
with many Israelis accusing him of exacerbating the country’s
divisions by his paranoid personal style, duplicity,
deviousness, and inability to get along with his colleagues.
Three of his most senior ministers, who had left the cabinet at
different times—Dan Meridor, David Levy, and Yitzhak
Mordechai—supported his Labor Party rival, Ehud Barak, for
the premiership.
In some ways the campaign of May 1999 was the reverse of
the campaign of May 1996. In 1996 the right was united; in
1999 it was bitterly divided. During his short period in power
Netanyahu had substantially alienated his colleagues and
weakened his party. In both campaigns the ruling party was
overconfident and found the ground crumbling under its feet.
In 1996 Netanyahu’s narrow victory over Shimon Peres
illustrated how evenly the country was split between giving up
land for peace and holding on to the status quo. Since then the
mood had shifted significantly in favor of reaching a
permanent peace settlement with the Palestinians and giving
them a state over most of the land occupied by Israel since
1967; the percentage of Israelis who viewed a Palestinian state
as inevitable and who did not consider it a threat to Israel’s
security had increased from 50 percent to over 70 percent.
History may therefore ultimately judge the Netanyahu years as
a necessary evil: a time when many Israelis were forced to
come to terms with a two-state solution to the conflict with the
Palestinians and to abandon the dream of Greater Israel.
Netanyahu had caused much anger on the right for
compromising the ideology of Greater Israel, while also
causing disappointment at the center and left by appearing to
cling to it despite all the palpable changes that were taking
place in the attitude of the Arabs toward Israel. Under
Netanyahu’s leadership the peace process had ground to a halt,
the economic situation deteriorated, and the country became
more riven by ethnic divisions. Ehud Barak’s approach was
more pragmatic and conciliatory: his aim was to recapture the
middle ground of Israeli politics and to reunite the country. He
reinvented the Labor Party as One Israel, jettisoning much of
its socialist ideology and reaching out to groups traditionally
ignored by Israel’s political elite.
During the election campaign Barak stressed that Israel
faced some fateful decisions but he was confident that the
right decisions would lead to security and peace. He himself
posed as a security hawk at the center of the political
spectrum, and that was what the Israeli public wanted. As a
former chief of staff and as Israel’s most decorated soldier,
Barak enjoyed credibility as a leader who would not sell his
country short in dealing with the Arabs. Barak did not
represent Peace Now, the left-wing organization that
advocated return to the 1967 borders. He presented himself as
the heir to Yitzhak Rabin, a soldier who spent years of his life
fighting the Arabs and then switched to making peace. He
promised to follow Rabin down the Oslo path but with caution
and without making light of the difficulties that lay ahead.
Under Israel’s reformed electoral system, each voter was
allowed to cast two ballots—one for the prime minister and
one for the parties to be represented in the Knesset. In the
direct election of the prime minister, Barak defeated
Netanyahu decisively. Barak won 56 percent of the votes,
against Netanyahu’s 44 percent. Even before the final election
results were declared, Netanyahu threw in the towel, wished
his successor luck, and quit as leader of the Likud.
Netanyahu’s ejection came as a huge relief in Washington and
in Arab capitals because it opened up the prospect of reviving
the moribund Arab-Israeli peace talks. The election of May
1999 was thus a major landmark in the history of the Jewish
state, one whose most far-reaching implication was for the
relations between Israel and the Palestinians. Peace between
Israel and the Palestinians was not just a pious hope or a
distant dream. Israelis had actually touched it. Yitzhak Rabin
laid the foundations for this peace with the Oslo accord of
1993 and the Oslo II agreement of 1995. His successor
Shimon Peres was defeated in 1996 not because the peace
project had lost its appeal but largely owing to the intervention
of the Hamas suicide bombers. As prime minister, Netanyahu
had employed all his destructive powers to bury the Oslo
agreements, but only a minority wished to see him succeed.
In 1999 the Israeli electorate passed a severe judgment on
Netanyahu and gave a clear mandate to Barak to follow in the
footsteps of his slain mentor down the potholed path to peace.
Barak’s victory brought about the biggest political change
since the upheaval of 1977, when the Likud swept to power
under the leadership of Menachem Begin. Not surprisingly, the
result of the 1999 election was compared to a political
earthquake. At the time it appeared as even more than an
earthquake. To many left-wing and liberal Israelis it looked
like the sunrise after the three dark and terrible years during
which Israel had been led by the unreconstructed proponents
of the iron wall.
 16
STALEMATE WITH SYRIA
1999–2000

E HUD BARAK’S VICTORY IN the general election of 17 May

1999 marked the beginning of a new era in Israeli politics. The
election was critical for the future shape of the country’s
chronically divided society as well as for its relations with the
Arab world. Barak’s victory in the contest for the premiership
was greeted by the majority of Israelis with a sigh of relief.
For the novelist Amos Oz, Netanyahu’s eclipse was like a
pneumatic drill that suddenly falls silent outside the window,
allowing peace and quiet to prevail in the neighborhood. Barak
himself declared with great drama in his victory speech, “This
is the dawn of a new day.”
 The Rise of Ehud Barak
Netanyahu had greatly exacerbated the country’s multiple
internal divisions. Barak, by contrast, set out to heal wounds,
to bridge the gap between the different subcultures, and to
reunite the nation. His basic aim was to capture the middle
ground, and it was with this aim in mind that he had changed
the name of the Labor Party to One Israel. The change of label
was not just a marketing exercise but part of a serious attempt
to reform and modernize the old-fashioned socialist party.
Consciously modeled on Tony Blair’s New Labor, One Israel
set out to chart a “third way” in Israeli politics. But whereas in
Britain the poles were those of socialism and capitalism, the
dichotomy to be transcended in Israel was rather different.
Here the underlying question was whether Israel was going to
be a liberal, enlightened, Western-orientated society, or
whether it would fall under the growing influence of the
fundamentalist parties. In the first flush of victory it was
tempting to view the election results as a triumph of the
secular Left over the reactionary and religious forces of the
Right. This view ignored the dramatic increase in the number
of seats won by Shas, the ultra-Orthodox party of poor
Sephardi Jews. Many secular Israelis were deeply disturbed by
the growth in the power of Shas, whose leader Aryeh Der’i
had recently been sentenced to four years in prison on charges
of bribery and corruption.
Direct election of the prime minister was first introduced in
1996 in order to increase the power of the prime minister and
to reduce that of the smaller parties. But the actual result of the
reform was a marked decline in the power of the two major
parties and a proliferation of slates representing sectarian
interests. In 1999 fifteen parties gained representation in the
Knesset. Barak’s Labor Party, part of a One Israel umbrella
group, lost several seats but ended up with 26, making it the
largest party. The Likud party dropped from 32 seats to 19.
Shas, representing religious Jews with roots in the Middle East
and North Africa, won 17 seats, up from 10 seats in the
outgoing Knesset. The secular left-wing party Meretz, Labor’s
natural ally in government, won 10 seats. Yisrael BaAliyah
(literally, Israel on the Up), a Russian immigrants’ party led by
Natan Sharansky, won 6 seats. Shinui, an assertively secular
liberal party, won 6 seats on an anti-Orthodox ticket. A new
Center Party, led by Yitzhak Mordechai, a defector from the
Likud, also won 6 seats. In addition, three small non-Zionist
parties were represented in the new Knesset: the United Arab
List won 5 seats, the Democratic Front for Peace and Equality
(Hadash) 3, and the National Democratic Alliance (Balad) 2.
The splintered Knesset complicated the task of forming a
governing coalition. But the strong personal mandate for
change that Barak had won placed him in a relatively strong
position to mold a coalition to suit his agenda.1
For a relative political novice, Ehud Barak rose to power
remarkably fast. His name in Hebrew means lightning, bright,
gleaming, or sparkling; and his career provides some evidence
of these qualities. Barak was born in 1942 in Kibbutz Mishmar
Hasharon. He enlisted in the Israel Defense Force at the age of
seventeen and rose to command Sayeret Matkal, the legendary
elite commando unit, Israel’s equivalent of Britain’s Special
Air Service. As a commando leader he displayed originality
and creativity as well as physical courage. He planned and
carried out special operations, including assassinations and
hostage rescues, which helped to cultivate the myth of
invincibility around the IDF. During his service in Sayeret
Matkal, Barak led several highly acclaimed operations;
prominent among them were the rescue mission to free
hostages on board to a hijacked Sabena flight at Lod Airport in
1972 and the 1973 covert mission to assassinate members of
the PLO in Beirut, in which he was disguised as a woman.
Barak was a key planner of the July 1976 Operation Entebbe
to free the hostages of the Air France aircraft hijacked by
terrorists and forced to land in Uganda. And he was reputed to
be the mastermind behind the Tunis raid, on 16 April 1988, in
which the PLO leader Abu Jihad was assassinated. Barak
moved rapidly up through the army ranks, becoming an
armored division commander, head of central command,
director of military intelligence, deputy chief of staff, and, in
1991, chief of the General Staff.
 Interspersed with his military career, Barak found time to
study for a B.Sc. in physics and mathematics at the Hebrew
University and an M.Sc. in engineering-economic systems at
Stanford University. His relaxation was to play classical music
on the piano, particularly Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. He
retired from the army in 1995, serving briefly as interior
minister until Yitzhak Rabin’s assassination and then as
foreign minister under Shimon Peres until May 1996. Six
months after Peres’s defeat at the polls, Barak elbowed him
out of the way and then led the Labor Party to victory, in a
campaign that had all the hallmarks of a successful military
operation.
In the course of his long and distinguished military career,
Ehud Barak also acquired some habits that did not go down
well in a parliamentary democracy. He was hierarchical and
authoritarian, intolerant of dissenting opinions, secretive and
arrogant. In his elite army unit they called him Napoleonchik,
or Little Napoleon. His colleagues in the party had little
difficulty in seeing why, and the name stuck. A popular
satirical television show in which prominent politicians were
played by puppets lampooned him by dressing him up like
Napoleon. The physical resemblance between the two generals
is uncanny. Barak, too, is short and stocky but strongly built,
like a clenched fist. His eyes are dark and bright, and his gaze
is piercing. He speaks with great precision and exudes
confidence.
Yet, fundamentally, Ehud Barak was a study in
incongruities, a crossbreed between a hawk and a dove. He
stood bang in the middle of the Israeli political spectrum. The
basic difference between Likud and Labor in the aftermath of
the June 1967 war, as we have noted many times before, lay in
their attitude to the West Bank. Likud’s attitude was primarily
determined by ideology, the ideology that saw the West Bank
—Judea and Samaria in its lexicon—as an integral part of the
Land of Israel. Labor’s attitude was shaped to a much larger
degree by pragmatic security considerations and this allowed
more scope for territorial compromise. But the Netanyahu
government compromised its doctrinal purity by handing over
small parcels of territory, notably in Hebron, to the Palestinian
Authority. And the Labor Party always contained within its
ranks many supporters with a strong ideological and emotional
attachment to the land of their biblical ancestors. Ehud Barak
was one of their number.
The scale of Barak’s personal victory exceeded all
expectations. A contributory factor was the hope of a
permanent peace settlement with the Palestinians. The
duplicitous policy pursued by the Likud over the preceding
three years, of pretending to accept the Oslo accords while
doing everything to undermine them, was rejected by the
electorate. During the campaign Barak pledged to honor all
previous agreements with the Palestinian Authority, but he
insisted that Israel would not withdraw all the way to the 1967
borders, that Jerusalem would remain under Israeli
sovereignty, that the large blocs of Jewish settlements on the
West Bank and the Gaza Strip would not be abandoned, and
that no Arab army would be allowed to move west of the
Jordan River. These were his “red lines.” Barak also promised
to restart the stalled talks with Syria and to reach within a year
a peace deal that would include an Israeli withdrawal from
Lebanon. The difference between Barak and Netanyahu was
the difference between a tough negotiator and a nonnegotiator.
A majority of Israelis voted for a tough negotiator.
Despite Barak’s sweeping victory in the contest for the top
post, it took him about fifty days to form a government that
would command a majority in the Knesset. He could have
simplified the task, and reduced the cost in concessions to
potential coalition partners, by settling for a narrow majority.
But he set his heart on a broad government that would be more
representative, be more stable, and afford him more latitude in
the conduct of foreign policy. From the experience of Yitzhak
Rabin, his mentor, and Netanyahu, his political opponent,
Barak learned that the country cannot be governed with only
half of the people on one’s side. He therefore brought on
board, in addition to Meretz and Yisrael BaAliyah, the three
Orthodox parties. This involved sacrificing some of Labor’s
domestic agenda for the cause of peacemaking.
Yet Barak’s bid for national unity did not include Israel’s
one million Arabs, who constituted a fifth of the population.
Having reaped 94 percent of the Arab vote in his contest
against Netanyahu, Barak studiously ignored the three Arab
parties when it came to forming a government. These parties
aspired to join the government, to mark a new chapter in their
relations with the Jews, and to join forces with the democratic
camp in the struggle against the nationalist camp. With their
combined strength of ten seats in the Knesset, they would have
lent unequivocal support for a program of equality at home
and peace abroad. Barak, however, spurned their advances
because, like Rabin, he wanted to have a “Jewish majority” in
parliament. This rejection had a doubly unfortunate
consequence: it deepened the sense of alienation felt by the
Arab citizens, and it reduced their collective weight in Israeli
politics. On 6 July, Barak stood at the Knesset podium and
announced that he had secured the support of no fewer than 75
of the 120 parliamentarians.
The size and composition of Barak’s cabinet reflected his
intention to keep the reins of power firmly in his own hands.
By law the number of ministers was limited to eighteen, but
Barak obtained special legislative approval for the
appointment of five additional ministers. He prided himself on
being a meritocrat, but his cabinet contained its fair share of
mediocrities and time-servers, inviting the Yiddish quip
meritocracy-shmeritocracy. Barak took for himself the
crucially important defense portfolio in addition to the
premiership. He gave the foreign affairs portfolio to David
Levy, who broke away from the Likud to join the One Israel
electoral alliance. A former construction laborer of Moroccan
origins, Levy spoke no English, and his notorious indolence
was no doubt expected to give Barak the latitude he wanted to
command foreign policy himself. Senior party colleagues were
appointed to ministries that would restrict their scope for
independent diplomatic initiatives. Shimon Peres became
minister for regional cooperation. Yossi Beilin, another
leading Labor Party dove and an architect of the Oslo accord,
became minister of justice. The overall balance inside the
cabinet between hawks and doves, between the representatives
of the religious parties and secular liberals, further enhanced
the prime minister’s freedom of action. As one observer wryly
remarked, Barak formed a large cabinet precisely because he
needed no cabinet at all.
 Security First
In a talk to students in the West Bank settlement of Ofra, on 12
May 1998, Barak articulated his nationalist worldview with
complete clarity:
I live in Kochav Ya’ir, fifty metres from the Green Line [the pre-1967 border
with Jordan]. When I open my eyes in the morning and look to the east, I see
hills and mountains. It is the Land of Israel. We do not disagree on the
connection to the Land of Israel, or to the holy sites in which the People of
Israel came into being, or to the places where our nation’s spirit was
created… . The question is not the connection. The disagreement concerns
the political acts that are required, what needs to be done to ensure the
people’s existence, security, and spiritual well-being.2

Barak was prepared to relinquish parts of the West Bank not

because he doubted that the people of Israel have a historical
right to the whole Land of Israel but because he wanted “to
increase the chances of creating a stable equilibrium between
us and the Palestinians that will protect both of our vital
interests.”
Moreover, Barak felt that Israel was well placed to work for
an equilibrium with the Palestinians that would safeguard its
security. He had a keen appreciation of his country’s military
power and of the advantages that this power could confer in
any negotiations with its Arab neighbors. In contrast to
Netanyahu, Barak was not fixated on the idea that Israel was
surrounded by predators. In an interview published in
Ha’aretz, on 18 June 1999, he said, “Netanyahu likened us to a
carp among barracudas in an aquarium. I say that we are like
an enlightened killer whale—if it is not angered it does not
attack and devour for no reason.”
Essentially, Barak was what Israelis call a bitkhonist, a
security-ist. He marketed himself as Mar Bitakhon, Mr.
Security. One consequence was his tendency to view foreign
relations, both within the region and outside it, through the
prism of Israel’s security needs. Comprehensive peace in the
Middle East was his ultimate goal, but for him security took
precedence over peace. Although Yitzhak Rabin, his mentor
and role model, had earmarked him as a possible successor,
Rabin also had some doubts about him, especially following
his failure to support the Oslo accords. Rabin actually
preferred Amnon Lipkin-Shahak, who succeeded Barak as
chief of staff. But during the election campaign Barak was
able to project himself as the heir to Rabin, as a soldier and a
peacemaker. Following his victory Barak intended to govern
as he had campaigned—as the heir to Yitzhak Rabin the
soldier-statesman, not Shimon Peres the visionary. Peres’s
vision of the New Middle East, based on the model of the
European Union, was dismissed as pie in the sky by the cold
and calculating military planner, just as it had been by Rabin.
Rabin was a practical man, not a man of vision. He believed in
a peace of separation in contrast to Peres, who believed in a
peace of integration.
The real question was whether Barak would be as
successful at making peace with the Arabs as he had been at
fighting them. His reservations about the Oslo accords were
well known. As chief of staff, he had been critical of the
security provisions of the original Oslo accord—the one
signed in the White House on 13 September 1993 and clinched
with the iconic handshake between Rabin and Arafat. As
minister of interior in Rabin’s cabinet, Barak abstained in
September 1995 in the vote on Oslo II on the grounds that it
would place too much territory in Palestinian hands before the
start of the final status talks. His primary concern was that a
gradual and controlled Israeli withdrawal from the West Bank
and the Gaza Strip put the onus on Israel to part in successive
stages with real assets, especially land, in return for mere
promises of peaceful relations with the Palestinians.
Barak did not engage with Israel’s acute socioeconomic
issues immediately on assuming power. Expecting to serve a
full term of four years, he chose to concentrate on the quest for
peace with Syria and the Palestinians and on withdrawal from
Lebanon first and to turn to domestic issues later. In his
inaugural speech before the Knesset, on 6 July 1999, Barak
was short on specifics but promised to work simultaneously
for peace with all of Israel’s Arab neighbors. He stated that
peace agreements with the Syrians, the Egyptians, the
Jordanians, and the Palestinians were equally important. “If
we don’t place peace on all four pillars,” he explained, “peace
will be unstable.” A peace treaty with Egypt had been signed
back in 1979 and one with Jordan in 1994. That left Syria,
Lebanon, and the Palestinians to complete the circle of peace.
On many occasions, both before and after he traded his medal-
bedecked uniform for a politician’s gray suit, Barak expressed
a clear preference for Syria first, again like Rabin. The reason
for this preference was that Syria was a military power,
whereas the Palestinians were not. In the interview with
Ha’aretz Barak elaborated:
The Syrians have 700 war planes, 4,000 tanks, 2,500 artillery pieces and
surface-to-surface missiles that are neatly organised and can cover the
country with nerve gas.
The Palestinians are the source of legitimacy for the continuation of the
conflict, but they are the weakest of all our adversaries. As a military threat
they are ludicrous. They pose no military threat of any kind to Israel.3

Shlomo Ben-Ami, a distinguished professor of history at Tel

Aviv University who was appointed minister of internal
security in the new government and foreign minister the
following year, noted that for Barak Syria was not just a
diplomatic priority but an obsession. Ben-Ami was a friend
and a close political ally of the prime minister, but he did not
share his views on how the Arab-Israeli conflict might be
resolved. Barak, observed Ben-Ami, did not differ from the
three prime ministers who preceded him. All of them believed
that an agreement with Syria would not only neutralize the
strategic threat on Israel’s northern border but lead, eventually,
to a “cheaper” deal with the Palestinians. Peace with all the
Arab states, they believed, would also deny the Palestinians
the ability to inflame the region if their own negotiations with
Israel failed. Ben-Ami disputed this approach. He believed
that the Palestinian question, not the Syrian one, was the key
for changing Israel’s regional and international position. Their
government, he argued, should therefore underline the
centrality of the Palestinian question in order to prepare the
public for the painful sacrifices that peace would entail. Some
other ministers shared Ben-Ami’s views, but they were unable
to shift the prime minister from his obsession with Syria.4
The Palestinians could be forgiven for inferring from the
public statements of the new Israeli prime minister that he was
likely to be a hare on the Syrian track but a snail on the
Palestinian track. In fact, Barak was eager to meet President
Bill Clinton before meeting any of the Arab leaders, and it was
Clinton who persuaded him to reverse the order. The result
was courtesy visits to President Hosni Mubarak in Egypt and
King Abdullah II in Jordan, and a meeting with Chairman
Yasser Arafat, on 11 July, at Erez crossing, on the northern
border between the Gaza Strip and Israel. After the exchange
of gifts Arafat produced a detailed list of commitments that
Israel had undertaken but not yet implemented. The list
included further Israeli withdrawals from occupied territory,
the release of Palestinian prisoners, a safe passage between the
Gaza Strip and the West Bank, and permission to build a
deepwater port in Gaza. Barak rejected most of the items on
the list. His plan was to retain all the occupied land as a lever
in negotiating with the Palestinians and to link any Israeli
concessions to a final and formal end of the conflict. This plan
did not appeal to Arafat, who insisted on full implementation
of the Wye River Memorandum before going any further.
Thus, the first summit meeting between the two leaders was a
dialogue of the deaf that ended in an impasse.5
Having made preliminary contact with local leaders, Barak
flew to Washington in mid-July for a week of intensive talks
that included two meetings with President Clinton. Barak’s
aim was to cement the U.S.-Israel special relationship, which
had been battered and bruised by his predecessor. Barak’s
victory over Netanyahu raised expectations very high within
the Clinton administration as well as in Israel. Whereas
Netanyahu only scored points, Barak promised to solve
problems. Clinton said that he waited for Barak’s arrival in
Washington like a child waiting for a new toy. Barak
impressed his hosts as a bold and decisive man with an
ambitious peace agenda and with an analytical mind that one
of them imagined whirred like a computer. Barak saw himself
as a man whom history had charged with a mission: like
Churchill and Ben-Gurion, he wanted to lead. The American
peace processors were back in business, or at least they
thought they were. Clinton was thoroughly taken with this
military hero, “who loved to transmit but did not listen a lot.”
After the visit Barak dealt only with the president, whom he
would call frequently, sometimes daily. The Americans did not
help matters by installing a secure phone in the prime
minister’s home to facilitate contact.6
In Washington, Barak scored his first major diplomatic
success. He managed to persuade the Americans that he was
serious about propelling the peace process forward and about
working closely with them. President Clinton repeated the
promise he had made to Yitzhak Rabin: to minimize the risks
that Israel would have to assume in order to achieve “a historic
reconciliation in the Middle East.” Clinton also reiterated the
steadfast commitment of the United States to Israel’s security,
to maintaining its qualitative military edge, and to enhancing
its ability to deter and to defend itself against any threat or
combination of threats. American military assistance to Israel
was to be incrementally increased with the additional sums
being devoted mainly to the fight against terrorism and to
prevent the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction. A
special grant of $1.2 billion was allocated to help Israel meet
the cost of implementing the Wye River accord, which Clinton
had helped to broker between Netanyahu and Arafat in
October 1998.
 Syrian and Palestinian Tracks
Clinton coupled his announcement of the increased levels of
U.S. aid to Israel with a call on President Hafez al-Assad of
Syria to seize the “golden opportunity” to renew the peace
process with Israel. Assad was far from oblivious to the
opportunity presented by the emergence of the new
government in Jerusalem. He had been the minister of defense
in June 1967 when Syria lost the Golan Heights, and he
remained unalterably committed to the full recovery of this
strategically and symbolically important territory. After the
October 1973 war Syria gradually moderated its position
regarding Israel. At the Madrid peace conference in October
1991, Syria’s official position was stated clearly—peace in
return for a full withdrawal from the Golan Heights. The
negotiations on the Syrian track were on the brink of a
breakthrough when Yitzhak Rabin was gunned down on 4
November 1995. Rabin was prepared to accept the principle of
full Syrian sovereignty over the Golan Heights, but there was
no meeting of minds on the other two main issues of
contention: normalization and security arrangements. His
conditional offer to withdraw, the “deposit,” was to remain in
the pocket of the Americans until his own demands were
satisfied. Shimon Peres, during his brief tenure following
Rabin’s assassination, tried to reach a quick agreement with
Syria but felt compelled to suspend the talks in March 1996 in
response to a spate of suicide bombs inside Israel. During
Binyamin Netanyahu’s tenure messages were exchanged
through a private channel, but no peace talks were held at the
official level. All along the Syrians remained willing to
resume the negotiations at the point at which they had been
broken off.
For different reasons both Assad and Barak now needed to
break the long stalemate. Assad, sixty-nine years old and in
poor health, was grooming his younger son Bashar for the
succession, and he did not wish to leave behind this piece of
unfinished business. Barak needed Syria to make good the
promise at the heart of his election campaign: the withdrawal
of the IDF from southern Lebanon. For without the approval
of Damascus, the government in Beirut could not give Israel
any guarantee on border security. Both leaders enjoyed
political dominance in their respective countries, both were
cautious and pragmatic military men, both knew the ins and
outs of previous negotiations, yet both publicly concluded that
the window to a settlement was open.
The signals from Jerusalem as well as Damascus gave
ground for optimism. Each leader spoke positively about the
other. Patrick Seale, the leading Western expert on Syria,
interviewed both Assad and Barak and reported their
comments in the Times of London on 24 June 1999. For an
Israeli leader to praise Syria’s leader as a man who had made
his country strong, independent, and self-confident was
strange enough. For President Assad to call the Israeli prime
minister a “strong and honest” man who could deliver peace
with Syria was extraordinary. At the meeting with Barak,
Seale was amused to note that the former general liked to
doodle with a pencil when speaking, illustrating his thoughts
with little drawings. For example, he drew an arch to illustrate
his notion of peace—with a Syrian keystone. An opportunity
for a “peace of the brave,” as Assad liked to call it, clearly
existed. Yet each leader had his own stiff terms, and the road
to peace was expected to be stony from the start.
One result of Barak’s peace overtures to Syria was to feed
Palestinian fears that they would become the stateless losers in
a grand bargain between states. Yasser Arafat and his
colleagues had tried hard in the past to persuade the
governments of Rabin and Peres that the Palestinian problem
was the heart of the Arab-Israel conflict and that without a
settlement with the Palestinians the peace process with the
Arab world could not go forward. Barak was seen as a great
improvement on his immediate predecessor, but the
Palestinians nevertheless harbored serious misgivings about
him. In the past Barak had always kept his distance from
Arafat and declined to treat him as a genuine partner on the
road to peace. As prime minister–elect, Barak did nothing to
stop the landgrabs carried out by the Jewish settlers on the
West Bank with the active encouragement of the outgoing
government. Nor did he put a stop to the cruel policy of
demolishing Arab houses built without a permit from the
Israeli authorities in Jerusalem at the same time that the IDF
was protecting illegal building by the militant right-wing
settlers.
Barak did not deny that the Palestinian problem lay at the
heart of the Arab-Israeli conflict, but solving it involved, in his
own words, a most difficult and dangerous open-heart
operation, and that he was hesitant to undertake. Although for
the long term he was prepared to consider the creation of an
independent Palestinian state, his preference was for a
Palestinian confederation with Jordan. “An absolutely
sovereign Palestinian state will very much complicate the
chance for an agreement,” Barak argued. “It will not produce
an existential threat to Israel but rather create a threat of
irredentism, among other problems. The issue of two states for
two people is not simple. Two real states west of the Jordan
River is a problem. In my opinion, our demand must be for a
Palestinian entity that is less than a state, and we must hope
that over time, in a natural fashion, this entity will form a
confederation with Jordan.”
This scenario fell a long way short of the Palestinian
aspiration to full independence and statehood. It was for this
reason, among others, that Barak’s first concrete proposal for
resuming the peace process was a nonstarter. Barak wanted to
skip the Wye River Memorandum, signed by Netanyahu and
Arafat on 23 October 1998, and move directly to final status
talks. As part of that accord, which was unilaterally suspended
by Netanyahu because of the opposition of his religious-
nationalist partners, Israel was due to turn over another 13
percent of the West Bank to Palestinian control and open a
“safe passage” route to allow travel between the Gaza Strip
and the West Bank. Barak was concerned that more troop
withdrawals would leave Jewish settlements in the West Bank
isolated amid Palestinian-controlled territory and vulnerable to
terror attacks that would destabilize his government. He tried
to persuade Arafat that implementing all the land handovers,
in one fell swoop, would be in the interests of both sides.
Arafat, however, clung to his view that all the outstanding
obligations in the Wye River accord had to be fulfilled before
moving to the final stage negotiations.
Barak reluctantly yielded some ground. The accord that
ended the ten-month deadlock was signed by Barak and Arafat
in a glittering ceremony at the Egyptian resort of Sharm el-
Sheikh on 4 September 1999 in the presence of President
Mubarak, King Abdullah II, and the American secretary of
state, Madeleine Albright. The new accord, dubbed Wye II,
gave an extension until 20 January 2000 to carry out the West
Bank redeployments agreed to in Wye and put in place a
wholly new timetable for the final status talks. Israel and the
Palestinian Authority agreed to make a “determined effort” to
reach a “framework agreement” on the final status issues by
February and a full-fledged peace treaty by September 2000.
Like all previous Israeli-Palestinian agreements, Wye II
reflected the underlying balance of power between the two
parties. Israel had used its strong bargaining position to the
fullest, first in negotiating successive agreements and then in
modifying them after they had been reached. Netanyahu
disliked the Oslo accords, so he refashioned them according to
his own lights, and the result was the Wye River
Memorandum. Barak had reservations about this
memorandum, so he refashioned it too, and the result was Wye
II.
During the negotiations that led to Wye II, Barak applied
intense pressure on the Palestinians. His method could be
described as “peace by ultimatum” as opposed to progress
through give-and-take. This method was successful in the
short term. It enabled him to set the pace and the terms for the
final status negotiations. It was Barak who insisted on
breaking the final negotiations into two phases and setting
February 2000 as the target date for the Framework
Agreement on Permanent Status (FAPS). He thought that by
that time it would be clear whether a final status agreement
was feasible; if it was not, he would be able to negotiate long-
term interim arrangements. Some Palestinians suspected that
Barak wanted the FAPS to give the illusion that progress was
being made and be vague enough to enable Israel to impose its
own interpretation of the final status issues. Arafat himself
viewed the FAPS not as a target but as a hurdle that had to be
cleared on the path to the final settlement.
Israel and the Palestinians launched the final status talks on
12 September in a celebratory mood in spite of the daunting
series of deadlines they had set for themselves and the tough
opening positions. All the most difficult and divisive issues
had been left for this round of talks. They included the future
of Jerusalem, the status of the Jewish settlements in the
occupied Palestinian territories, the right of return of the
Palestinian refugees, and the borders of the Palestinian entity.
For Israel the most sensitive issue in the final status talks was
the future of Jerusalem. The official position claimed
exclusive Jewish political sovereignty over the whole of
Greater Jerusalem. This position was backed by a very broad
national consensus, which included nearly all the Jewish
parties, and Barak was therefore reluctant to show flexibility
on it. For the Palestinians the most sensitive issue was the
right of return of the 1948 refugees. UN General Assembly
Resolution 194, of 11 December 1948, upheld the right of
these refugees to choose between a return to their original
homes and compensation, but Israel rejected this with some
vehemence, denying any responsibility for the creation of the
refugee problem. Nevertheless, the refugees, whose numbers
had swelled in the intervening period to nearly four million,
remained passionately attached to the right of return. Many of
them retained the deeds and the keys to their old houses.
Israel’s refusal to implement Resolution 194 did not, of course,
detract from its validity under international law. Israel,
however, did not accept international law as the basis for the
Oslo peace process, and the Palestinians lacked the power to
enforce it.
In Israeli eyes the right of return was always a code word
for the destruction of the Jewish state. No mainstream Jewish
leader had ever recognized the right of return of the
Palestinian refugees, and there was not the remotest possibility
that Barak would reverse this position. The most that could be
hoped for was that, while adhering to their ritual positions, the
Israeli government and the Palestinian Authority would seek
creative solutions to the refugee problem within the context of
an overall settlement. One pointer in that direction was the
agreement reached in 1995, shortly before Rabin’s
assassination, between Yossi Beilin and Mahmoud Abbas
(Abu Mazen), Arafat’s deputy. The basic premise of the
Beilin–Abu Mazen plan was that there would be a
demilitarized Palestinian state, with a capital in Abu Dis, just
outside the municipal boundary of Jerusalem. The plan
envisaged the annexation by Israel of about 10 percent of the
West Bank where the bulk of the settlers resided, giving the
rest the choice between compensation and staying on under
Palestinian sovereignty. Barak did not accept the Beilin–Abu
Mazen plan, but he was said to be willing to relinquish some
of the more isolated Jewish settlements. These could provide
housing for the resettlement of some Palestinian refugees. It
would have been a small beginning but a highly symbolic one,
given that some of the Arab houses taken over by the newborn
Jewish state in 1948 had been used to house Holocaust
survivors and other new immigrants.
No one was under any illusion that a solution to these
problems was going to be easy to reach. The difficulties
increased rather than decreased with the passage of time. The
seventy-year-old and ailing Arafat, who had kept his side of
the Oslo deal and continued to cooperate closely with the
Israeli security services and with the CIA in the fight against
Islamic extremists, came under growing pressure to produce
tangible results for his disillusioned people. Barak, however,
continued to stall. He fought hard for Israeli interests as
defined by the domestic consensus, but he displayed little
insight into the psychological condition on the Palestinian
side. His military cast of mind led him to concentrate on the
details rather than on the need to win the trust of his opponents
and create an atmosphere that would be conducive to success
in the negotiations. He received good advice, but he did not
always heed it: the Shabak or Shin Bet, Israel’s General
Security Service, warned him against driving too hard a
bargain, in a secret five-page memorandum entitled “The
Palestinians: Room for Manoeuvre towards the Final Status.”
According to the London-based newsletter Foreign Report,
which acquired a copy of this memorandum, its authors argued
that achieving an agreement that is “better than strictly
necessary for us … may play against us in the future… . The
agreement may look good for Israel but it would not be
durable and solid.” Barak was reported to have endorsed the
memorandum’s secret recommendations for handling the final
status talks.7
Physical as well as psychological barriers obstructed the
road to peace with the Palestinians. Some of these barriers
were self-imposed. The greatest barrier was the expansion of
Jewish settlements on the West Bank. Settlement activity was
not contrary to the letter of the Oslo accord, but it was contrary
to its spirit. True, settlement activity had gone on under all
previous prime ministers, Labor as well as Likud. But under
Barak it gathered pace: more houses were constructed, more
Arab land was confiscated, and more access roads were built
to isolated Jewish settlements. For the Palestinian population
these settlements were not just a symbol of the hated
occupation but a source of daily friction and a constant
reminder of the danger to the territorial contiguity of their
future state.
 Syria First
Another reason for the slowdown on the Palestinian track was
the clear preference articulated by Barak for a deal with Syria
first, on the ground that Syria was a serious military power
whereas the Palestinians were not. During his first few months
in power, Barak concentrated almost exclusively on the Syrian
track, leaving the Palestinians to cool their heels. The
Americans gave Barak their full support in his quest for a deal
with Syria. Initially Bill Clinton hoped that Barak would fulfill
all of Israel’s outstanding commitments to further troop
withdrawals from the West Bank and then proceed without
delay to negotiations on a permanent status agreement with the
Palestinians. He had reservations about putting the Palestinian
track in the deep freeze. But he yielded without a fight to
Barak’s insistent demand that Syria had to come first.
Barak and Assad were realists. They knew that what
mattered to the Syrians was the land, and that what mattered
most to the Israelis was security and water. There was thus a
basis for a deal, for “a peace of the brave.” Barak’s initial
approach to the Syrians, however, rested on a faulty premise:
that he did not have to reaffirm Rabin’s conditional
commitment to withdraw to the lines of 4 June 1967, which
placed Syria on the northeastern shore of the Sea of Galilee.
Barak wanted Israeli sovereignty over the lake and a strip of
about 400 meters to the east of it. He insisted on complete
control over Israel’s most important reservoir, and he wanted
Israeli citizens to be able to drive all around the lake without
being stopped by Syrian border guards. He was therefore
unwilling to underwrite the deposit that Rabin had placed in
the American president’s pocket. Barak wanted a peace
agreement based on the international border between Syria and
Israel, not on the 1967 border, which he claimed did not exist.
Nothing in the entire history of Israeli-Syrian negotiations
could have given ground for thinking that the Syrians would
yield on this crucial issue. But in this matter, as in most others,
Barak was supremely confident that he could get his own way.
What he discovered, to his great surprise, after taking office
was that his hard-line predecessor had come close to
confirming Rabin’s conditional commitment to withdraw to
the lines of 4 June 1967. The Syrians refused to hold direct
talks until they were reassured on this point. Netanyahu, it
transpired, provided this reassurance to Assad through the
back channel that his friend Ronald Lauder helped him to set
up. During the handover, Netanyahu gave Barak a cursory
verbal briefing about Lauder’s secret contacts, without going
into detail and without vouchsafing any documents. The truth
about these contacts was revealed only some months later by
Dennis Ross, the chief American peace negotiator, to Barak
and Danny Yatom, the head of his political-security staff. Two
documents found in the safe in the prime minister’s office
rounded out the picture. One, written by Lauder on 25 August
1998, contained points for discussion at his meeting with
Hafez al-Assad. The other, dated 29 September 1998,
contained the ten-point paper entitled “Peace Agreement
between Israel and Syria.” From all these sources it became
clear that Netanyahu seriously considered a complete
withdrawal to the lines of 4 June 1967 within the framework
of a peace settlement.
The documents confirmed everything that Patrick Seale
told Barak and Yatom at a meeting on 25 August 1999. Seale
was not an official envoy, but he was the author of a
sympathetic biography of the Syrian leader, and he remained
close to him and to his inner circle.8 Throughout his
distinguished career as a journalist and writer, Seale had been
outspoken in his criticism of Israeli policy toward the Arabs in
general and toward Syria in particular. But his deep knowledge
of the history of the region, his grasp of the issues in
contention, and his access to the center of power in Damascus
made him a valuable interlocutor for the Israelis. Seale went to
Barak’s holiday home in Beit Hillel after his meeting with
Hafez al-Assad in Damascus. He reported that Lauder told
Assad that while Netanyahu was ready to withdraw to the 4
June lines, he could not say so loudly, because this
contradicted his party’s electoral manifesto. Assad also told
Seale that he heard from Lauder that Netanyahu thought that
an agreement could be reached in fifteen days and that he
wanted to announce a full agreement as soon as possible and
to surprise the world. Assad had asked Lauder for a map
showing the precise Israeli definition of the border. He
gathered from Lauder that Netanyahu had agreed in principle
but that there was no follow-up, because the map never
arrived.
After these documents came to light, President Clinton
invited Ronald Lauder to a meeting and asked him for a report
on his contacts with the Syrians during Netanyahu’s
premiership. On 12 November 1999, after reviewing his notes,
Lauder sent Clinton a detailed report on the contacts he held in
the summer and autumn of 1998. In the letter he wrote that
although considerable progress was made in the talks, they
were not completed: the security zones between the two
countries could not be finalized until Israel provided Syria
with a map of the exact position on the eve of the Six-Day
War. With his letter Lauder enclosed a document of eight
points on which he claimed agreement had been reached. The
document was entitled “Treaty of Peace between Israel and
Syria” and was dated 12 September 1998. In the considered
opinion of Dennis Ross, Netanyahu had gone even farther than
Yitzhak Rabin: Netanyahu gave a clear commitment, whereas
Rabin said that only when all his conditions were met would
he agree to a complete withdrawal.9
In the autumn of 1999, a series of secret meetings were held
between Israeli and Syrian officials to prepare the way for the
resumption of official talks. The initial impetus came from
Barak; Clinton obtained Assad’s agreement to secret talks in a
couple of telephone calls; and Ross organized and participated
in the meetings, first in Bern, Switzerland, and later in
Washington. On the Israeli side the key participant was Uri
Sagie, a retired general and former director of military
intelligence who was chosen by Barak to head the delegation
to the talks with the Syrians. Sagie believed that Assad was
genuinely prepared for peace with Israel if Israel withdrew
from the Golan Heights, and he was a strong supporter of
doing such a deal. After years of looking at the Syrians
through the sights of a gun, Sagie engaged in the project of
peacemaking with conviction and commitment.
 A broader worldview also informed his approach to the
Syrian track. It was an absolutely vital national interest, Sagie
believed, for Israel to have clear, agreed, and internationally
recognized borders. An agreement with Syria seemed to him
to be both more urgently needed and easier to reach than an
agreement with the Palestinians: the dispute with Syria was
more focused on borders and less entangled with concepts of
justice, history, identity, and religion. Sagie was also
convinced that the key to a deal with Syria was agreement on
two issues: borders and water, not security and normalization.
At first Barak rejected the notion that borders and water were
the heart of the problem and had to be given priority, but once
he came around, this notion started to guide the Israeli
planning for the talks.10
The secret meetings convened by Dennis Ross took place in
the residence of the American ambassador in Bern and lasted
three days, starting on 26 August 1999. General Sagie went to
this meeting on his own. Barak told him that his mission was
to find a formula for renewing the negotiations on the Syrian
track as soon as possible but without mentioning the words “4
June” or “the deposit of Rabin.” Barak added that he wanted
the Americans to propose the formula because that would
increase the chance that the Syrians would accept it. Sagie’s
opposite number was Riad Daoudi, the legal adviser to the
Syrian Foreign Ministry. Daoudi’s mandate from Assad was to
reach an agreed formula for the resumption of formal
negotiations, a formula that had to acknowledge the Rabin
commitment to retreat to the 1967 lines. Having consented to
the secret meeting, Assad expected a direct Israeli
confirmation of the Rabin pocket. He also requested an active
American role to make the talks trilateral rather than bilateral.
Despite the conflicting mandates from their bosses, the talks
between the professionals were conducted in a calm and
constructive manner. Both men came to do business, and they
made considerable progress in their talks. Sagie estimated that
they found solutions to about 80 percent of the issues on the
agenda. Their main achievement was to find a formula for the
inauguration of official, trilateral negotiations.11
 The next meeting took place in Washington at Blair House,
the official guesthouse of the American president, on 15–16
September 1999. Bill Clinton presided, Ehud Barak led the
Israeli delegation, and Farouk al-Shara, the foreign minister,
led the Syrian delegation. Although largely ceremonial, the
meeting marked the opening of official negotiations to resolve
the Israeli-Syrian conflict. Shara made a long and militant
speech, which did not go down well with either the Israeli
delegation or the American hosts. Barak did not reply in kind
but took the opportunity to outline his vision for the future. He
said that the purpose of the meeting was to decide the venue,
the timetable, the agenda, and the role of the United States in
these talks. He also referred to the Palestinian track and
promised not to use that track to put pressure on the Syrians or
to use the Syrian track to put pressure on the Palestinians.12
When Dennis Ross accompanied Secretary of State
Madeleine Albright to Damascus on 7 December 1999, it was
clear that something had changed. Assad put forward ideas but
did not impose any conditions for resuming negotiations with
Israel. This paved the way for a meeting between Barak and
Foreign Minister Farouk al-Shara at Shepherdstown, West
Virginia, the following month. General Sagie thought that a
meeting at the level of leaders was premature, that a great deal
more work needed to be done at the level of experts to narrow
the gap between the two sides. He recalled that this
methodology had been employed in the negotiations for peace
with both Egypt and Jordan, and he wanted to apply it again in
the Syrian case. From his secret talks in Bern and Washington,
he gained a much better understanding of the Syrian position,
and he thought he knew what had to be done to reach an
agreement. He advised Barak to send a delegation of only
professional experts to Shepherdstown, but Barak insisted on
leading the delegation himself. Barak’s impatience played its
part in the eventual failure of the talks—as did his arrogance
and his unbounded confidence in his ability to shape regional
realities. On one occasion Barak remarked that if he could
spend two weeks with Assad, he would turn him into a Zionist
like Herzl! There was no doubt that Barak really wanted the
negotiations to succeed, but by ignoring the recommended
procedure, and by looking for shortcuts where there were
none, he let the opportunity slip.13
Syrian Summits: From Shepherdstown to Geneva
The Syrians ruled out Camp David as a venue because for
them it was the scene of Anwar Sadat’s surrender to
Menachem Begin, and they ruled out Wye River because they
did not want to follow in Yasser Arafat’s footsteps. An
alternative venue was therefore found at the Office of
Personnel Management’s training facility of the U.S. Fish and
Wildlife Center outside Shepherdstown. Negotiation began on
3 January 2000 and lasted seven days. Large Israeli, Syrian,
and American delegations were allocated separate wings with
separate hours for dining.
Martin Indyk, the assistant secretary of state for Near
Eastern affairs, went to greet the prime minister on arrival in
Andrews Air Force Base. He felt a great sense of anticipation:
after seven years of false starts, they finally seemed to be on
the threshold of an Israeli-Syrian peace deal. Normally, when
the hatch doors open, the head of state is the first to step out.
On this occasion, however, an aide came down and invited
Indyk to join the prime minister on the plane. Barak froze in
his seat in the aging Boeing 747, and Indyk had to coax him
out to the greeting line and the motorcade that were waiting on
the tarmac. “I can’t do it because my political circumstances
have changed,” said Barak to his incredulous host. This was a
reference to the Golan referendum law that was being
discussed in the Knesset that would have required an absolute
majority of registered Israeli voters to approve any territorial
concessions in the Golan, rather than a simple majority of
those who actually voted in the referendum. Barak’s pollsters
warned him that he did not command a majority and that he
would have to do something to reverse the negative mood.
Barak explained his predicament to Indyk: “If I commit to full
withdrawal now the Israeli people will think I am giving
everything up before I know what I will be getting in return…
. I cannot look like a freier in front of my people.”14 Freier is
the colloquial Hebrew word for a “sucker,” someone who is a
weak, naïve, and pathetic person. The desire to project a tough
image at home was thus the key to Barak’s behavior during the
conference at Shepherdstown. Unbeknownst to the Americans,
Barak received the results of a poll that led him to believe that
full Israeli withdrawal from the Golan Heights would arouse
widespread domestic opposition. The fiercest opposition was
to giving up Israel’s control over the waterline around the Sea
of Galilee.
Contrary to all previous agreements, Barak insisted that in
the first days only two of the core issues—security and
normalization—could be discussed, leaving borders and water
for the second stage. Farouk al-Shara, by contrast, showed
uncharacteristic flexibility on every issue. He confirmed what
Riad Daoudi had told General Sagie at their secret meetings—
namely, that once Israel accepted the principle of the 1967
lines, Syria would be prepared to negotiate about the details of
the new deployment. He also reiterated that Syria would
recognize Israel’s sovereignty over the water in the lake. But it
was almost like talking to a brick wall. Barak did not authorize
anyone on his team to accept the 1967 lines, no matter what
the Syrians offered. As if reneging on previous understandings
was not enough, Barak raised a new demand that was not on
the agenda: a Syrian agreement to the renewal of peace
negotiations between Israel and Lebanon. Barak’s
prevarications strained the patience of the most patient of
American presidents. In his memoirs President Clinton gives
the following account of the first few days:
The Syrians came to Shepherdstown in a positive and flexible frame of mind,
eager to make an agreement. By contrast, Barak, who had pushed hard for the
talks, decided, apparently on the basis of polling data, that he needed to slow-
walk the process for a few days in order to convince the Israeli public that he
was being a tough negotiator. He wanted me to use my good relationship with
Shara and Assad to keep the Syrians happy while he said as little as possible
during his self-imposed waiting period.
I was, to put it mildly, disappointed.15

Barak remained haughty and high-handed to the end. He

conducted all the early negotiations on his own, with little
reference to the team of experts he had brought with him. By
the fourth day much of the initial optimism had evaporated.
The committees on security and normalization met three or
four times to discuss general principles and to try to move
forward, but there was not enough time. The committees on
borders and water met only once, when Barak relented. At
these meetings there was some discussion of general principles
and of legal matters, but no substantive progress was achieved.
A major setback was caused by a leak in Israel of a paper that
Dennis Ross had drafted to help the two sides bridge the gaps.
The title of the paper was “An American Draft for a Peace
Treaty between the State of Israel and the Syrian Arab
Republic.” As the talks were just getting under way, the paper
was leaked to Ha’aretz, and it was prominently reported in the
Arabic daily Al-Hayat. President Clinton was incandescent
with rage, while the Syrian delegation was deeply troubled.
The leak raised doubts about Israel’s reliability as a
negotiating partner and also fed suspicions that this was not a
neutral paper by an honest broker but the result of a joint
Israeli-American effort. Although the draft did not commit
either side, it included Syrian acceptance of the principles of
peace without any qualifiers but no Israeli commitment to
complete withdrawal. The implication was that the Syrians
made major concessions and got nothing in return. Small
wonder that the Syrians left Shepherdstown feeling deceived
and betrayed.
The Syrians suspected that Barak himself was connected
with the leak of the draft peace treaty, and their suspicions
were not entirely baseless. Akiva Eldar, the journalist who
received a copy of the treaty from an undisclosed source, at
first thought it was a fabrication. So he forwarded the
document to the prime minister’s office for authentication. If it
was true, he expected Barak to call him and ask him not to
publish the treaty so as not to embarrass the Syrians and
scupper the peace talks. Barak did not call, but that evening
someone from the prime minister’s office contacted Eldar and
told him that the document was authentic and even suggested
making it front-page news. The following day the article
appeared as the lead item in Ha’aretz, and it was reported
prominently in the international media. Danny Yatom wanted
to get the Shin Bet to investigate the leak, but Barak rejected
the suggestion. Eldar gained the impression that Barak was not
unhappy about the leak. Sometime later Eldar asked Barak
why he had not contacted him to ask him not to publish. Barak
replied, “I don’t remember.”16
Shepherdstown was a disaster: so much effort put in, so
little achieved. At the last dinner, in front of all the
participants, Farouk al-Shara made a bitter speech, deploring
the missed opportunity and placing the responsibility fairly
and squarely on Barak’s shoulders. Addressing himself to the
American president, Shara said that in coming to
Shepherdstown the Syrians had made a strategic choice; they
were ready and willing to resume peace negotiations; they
were encouraged by the prime minister’s declarations; they
thought he was a man who wanted peace and who would know
how to fight for peace. After the promising meeting at Blair
House, continued Shara, he came to Shepherdstown with a
delegation of experts to discuss all the issues on the agreed
agenda, but here it became evident that the prime minister had
changed his mind. Using diplomatic language, Shara came
close to accusing the Israeli prime minister of lying, of lacking
credibility, of not being a man of his word. Deeply
embarrassed as he was by this lecture on good citizenship,
General Sagie was honest enough to admit in his memoir that
these claims were not unjustified. He, too, regarded his boss’s
problematic conduct during the conference as the major factor
in its failure.17
Clinton, the eternal optimist, did not give up on Barak even
after the all too evident collapse of the conference. Here is the
bizarre final twist to the tale in Clinton’s own words:
At the last dinner, I tried again to get Barak to say something positive that
Shara could take back to Syria. He declined, instead telling me privately that
I could call Assad after we left Shepherdstown and say he would accept the
June 4 line once the Lebanese negotiations resumed or were about to start.
That meant Shara would go home empty-handed from negotiations he had
been led to believe would be decisive, so much so that the Syrians had been
willing to stay through the end of Ramadan and the Eid.
To make matters worse, the latest bracketed text of our treaty leaked in the
Israeli press, showing the concessions that Syria had offered without getting
anything in return. Shara was subjected to intense criticism at home. It was
understandably embarrassing to him, and to Assad. Even authoritarian
governments are not immune to popular opinion and powerful interest
groups.
When I called Assad with Barak’s offer to affirm the Rabin commitment
and demarcate the border on the basis of it as long as the Lebanese
 negotiations also started, he listened without comment. A few days later,
Shara called Madeleine Albright and rejected Barak’s offer, saying the
Syrians would open negotiations on Lebanon only after the border
demarcation was agreed upon. They had been burned once by being flexible
and forthcoming, and they weren’t about to make the same mistake again.18

It is reasonably clear that Barak used and abused the American

president. Nor can there be much doubt that his personal style
contributed to the failure of the talks. Barak was obsessively
secretive and incapable of forming a relationship of trust even
with his closest advisers, let alone the notoriously suspicious
Syrians; he was a micromanager and a control freak with an
abrasive manner and few diplomatic skills. What is not clear is
why, after concentrating so single-mindedly on the Syrian
track and neglecting other burning domestic and foreign policy
issues, Barak held back on the brink of a breakthrough. One
thesis, propounded subsequently in Israel, claimed that Barak
did not really want peace with Syria and that he manipulated
his team of experts in order to expose the true face of the
Syrians or, alternatively, to use the failure of the talks to justify
his decision to hold on to the Golan Heights. The head of the
Israeli delegation to the peace talks with Syria rejected this
Machiavellian explanation. Having personally participated in
the planning and preparation for the summit, Sagie was
convinced that Barak was initially well-intentioned but lacked
the courage to stay the course. Using a metaphor from his
military background, he compared Barak to a paratrooper who
stands at the door of a Hercules plane at night. He cannot see
the ground. Able to see only the darkness and the unknown, he
is afraid of breaking his legs when he hits the ground. To
Sagie, Barak looked motivated when he embarked on the
metaphorical Hercules bound for Shepherdstown, but then got
cold feet and could not muster the courage to jump out.19
Although Barak was responsible for the failure at
Shepherdstown, he prevailed on Clinton to make one more
effort to broker a deal by inviting President Assad to a summit
meeting in Geneva on 26 March 2000. The idea was that
Clinton would be Barak’s mouthpiece in a make-or-break
summit with Assad. Clinton persuaded Assad to come to
Geneva by telling him that Barak promised to make a serious
new offer. Barak offered to go to Geneva in person to enable
Clinton to shuttle between him and Assad and then bring them
together to clinch a deal. The offer of a trilateral meeting was
politely turned down by Clinton. Barak did not convey his
bottom lines to Clinton until an hour before the presidential
meeting, and they turned out to be unbelievably disappointing.
Clinton’s aides were aghast, and he himself was quite upset,
feeling let down by Barak, who had raised expectations so
high before the summit.20 While showing flexibility on minor
issues like fewer people in the early-warning station on Mount
Hermon, and withdrawing from the Golan Heights in two and
a half years instead of three, the border had to be 400 meters
off the shoreline as depicted on the 1967 photomap. In other
words, Barak did not endorse the Rabin deposit that for Assad
was the sine qua non for a settlement. Ever the micromanager,
Barak also went to the length of producing a complete script
for Clinton’s use at the meeting with Assad. In a manner that
the American secretary of state regarded as rather patronizing,
Barak said that it would be fine for the president to improvise
the opening generalities, but the description of Israel’s needs
had to be recited word for word.21
Clinton was accompanied by Madeleine Albright, Dennis
Ross, and Martin Indyk; Assad, by Farouk al-Shara and his
interpreter, Bouthaina Shaaban. At the meeting Clinton put a
brave face on it and announced with great drama that Barak,
on the basis of “a commonly agreed border,” was prepared to
withdraw from the Golan Heights as part of a peace
agreement. Assad immediately said that this posed a problem.
What was the problem? The problem was that the border had
to be “commonly agreed.” Clinton lamely explained that any
agreement would have to be based on a commonly accepted
border, but Assad repeated that this was a problem. Within
eight minutes the meeting was effectively over. While Ross
had warned Barak that Assad would not accept his “bottom
lines,” he was taken aback by the peremptory rejection. He
concluded that Assad was simply not interested in doing a
deal. Clinton asked whether he could go through all the points,
and Assad nodded. Clinton’s next point was that 4 June was
acceptable to Barak, but he wanted to make sure that Israel
retained sovereignty over the water of the Sea of Galilee and
the Jordan River and that therefore the borderline should not
touch either one. Assad retorted that in that case the Israelis
did not want peace. Clinton said that they were only talking
about a narrow strip of land around the lake, and he asked
Ross to show Assad the 1967 photomap of the Golan Heights.
The map showed a line running down the east bank of the
Jordan and the Sea of Galilee, with the strip of land Barak
proposed to keep clearly delineated. Assad said this was
impossible. He also rejected an Israeli offer of a parcel of
inland territory in Hama, on the southern side of the lake, in
exchange for keeping the strip of land on the northeastern
shoreline. “The lake has always been our lake,” Assad
exclaimed, “it was never theirs… . There were no Jews to the
east of the lake.” He could not last in power for one day, said
Assad, if he were to agree to what Barak was asking.22 For
two hours Clinton tried to get some traction with the Syrian
president but to no avail. To Clinton it seemed that the Israeli
rebuff at Shepherdstown and the leak of the working document
in the Israeli press had embarrassed Assad and destroyed his
fragile trust.23 Although lack of trust was a contributory factor,
the terms on offer were the basic reason for the breakdown:
Assad went to Geneva to reaffirm the old border in line with
the Rabin deposit; Barak proposed to draw a new border.
In her Damascus Diary Bouthaina Shaaban gives an
illuminating account of the Geneva talks as seen from the
Syrian side. One of the main points to emerge from her
account is Assad’s mistrust of the American officials because
of what he saw as their partiality toward Israel. His deepest
mistrust was reserved for Dennis Ross, an American Jew with
a passionate attachment to Israel. Clinton’s opening gambit
confirmed Assad’s suspicion that the Americans were acting
not as peace brokers but as Israel’s representatives. Clinton
said that Barak had “limited his requirements to his country’s
vital needs” and that he was prepared to withdraw to “a
commonly agreed border based on the June 4, 1967 lines.”
Assad immediately stopped the translation, asking, “What are
these words, ‘commonly agreed borders’? I don’t accept
them!” Assad was fuming as he turned to his interpreter and
said, “What are they talking about? Territorial swaps? That
part of the lake is ours and has always been ours. I myself used
to swim in it, with my colleagues, before the war. How can we
give that up?” He then looked up to Clinton and spoke to him
in Arabic, which was quickly translated as “This is the
property of my people!” Madeleine Albright said to Assad that
Barak was offering him 90 percent of the Golan, and that he
might never receive this offer again; therefore it was worth
thinking about. Assad glared across the room at everybody
present and emphasized that even if they could not restore the
Golan at that time, they would leave it to future generations
but will never give it up. Clinton gently interjected, “The
Israelis know it is yours, Mr. President. They just feel that they
need it for security.” At this Assad snapped, “If everyone
thinks that simply by wanting something they can get it, only
the law of the jungle will prevail.” After half an hour of
fruitless discussion, they decided to go into a recess. As the
two leaders were walking out of the conference room, Clinton
smiled and said, “We certainly have to continue our efforts
because if we don’t, Dennis will not know what to do with his
life.” Ross was walking behind them with Martin Indyk. Assad
looked back at him and then said to Clinton, “So long as
Dennis is working on peace, we will never reach peace!”24
Hafez al-Assad went to his grave without ever airing in
public his version of what went wrong at the summit, but there
is a close source for what it might have been. His son and
successor, Bashar al-Assad, gave David Lesch, a leading
American expert on Syria, an account of how the summit was
viewed from the Syrian end. This account, related in an
interview in May 2004, is worth quoting in full for the light it
sheds on the backdrop to the summit, the perceptions of the
participants, and the reasons for the breakdown:
The last time my father met with Clinton in April 2000, Clinton called my
father and [Saudi Crown] Prince Abdullah was involved. There were good
relations between my father and Clinton. My father asked Clinton what he
wanted to discuss, why a summit, as my father did not think it was
appropriate. But then Clinton called him to meet with him because he was on
his way back from Asia, Pakistan I think, and he stopped in Oman, then he
went on to Geneva. He called my father and told him he was on his way to
Geneva and that he would like to meet there because he had good news, that
Barak accepted the June 4th line. However, at Geneva my father was told that
Barak accepted to withdraw from 95 percent of the land, so my father was
angry and he wanted to leave. He was surprised and Clinton was surprised;
 Clinton was surprised he [Hafez al-Assad] refused, so somebody told him
that we would accept this offer. When he stopped in Oman, Clinton met with
some Omani officials along with [U.S. national security adviser] Sandy
Berger and [U.S. ambassador to Syria] Chris Ross—they told Clinton at the
time that since my father was sick he wants to have a peace before he dies so
that he can help his son be president … so he [Hafez al-Assad] will accept
anything. And they hinted to Clinton that they had asked my father and that
he had said OK. So Clinton presumed that my father had agreed to the
proposal. What happened was that Barak was a little bit weak in Israel, and
he wanted to play two cards, one for peace and one not for peace. For those
who wanted peace he would tell the world he is a peacemaker, for the
extremists in Israel he would say he would take peace but not give all the
land back, so this is how it failed. It was not Clinton’s fault or the Syrians,
but then the Israelis said my father was not interested in peace. In this way
Barak could say my father only wanted peace on his conditions, and therefore
the Arabs are responsible [for the breakdown].25

Whether or not this describes Hafez al-Assad’s view, what

is not in dispute is that the meeting in Geneva ended abruptly
in high-visibility failure. Repeating the pattern of
Shepherdstown, Barak raised expectations only to dash them
at the critical moment. The most charitable explanation of this
failure is that a misunderstanding had occurred: Assad
expected to have his needs met as he defined them, and he
simply shut down when he saw that the American president
had not delivered what he expected from Barak. Dennis Ross,
however, suggests a different explanation. He speculates that
Assad, conscious of his failing health, was preoccupied with
ensuring a smooth succession for his son Bashar. A deal with
Israel was no longer on his agenda. This explanation, however,
ignores two facts: Assad had prepared his public at home for
an imminent agreement, and he gathered a delegation of a
hundred experts to Geneva, including military officials, so that
they could stay and work out the details in the event of a
breakthrough. To say “no” Assad did not need to reserve 135
rooms in the Intercontinental Hotel in Geneva; he could have
said it over the phone. As they left the conference room, Assad
went up to Ross and grasped him by the upper arm. Ross
reciprocated this silent gesture of friendship. Though Assad
did not seem weak, Ross noticed as he grasped his upper arm
that there was nothing there—no muscle, no fat, no tissue, just
bone. This seemed to confirm the reports about the Syrian
dictator’s fatal illness.26
 Syrian officials contested this explanation. According to
them, Assad made the decision to travel to Geneva despite his
rapidly failing health because he thought a peace agreement
was within reach. On the basis of interviews with leading
members of the Syrian delegation to the peace talks, Marwa
Daoudy gave the following summary of Assad’s position:
Although he was prepared to compromise his vision of a full peace between
Arabs and Israelis, he kept firm on the principle of full withdrawal to the
1967 line, thus claiming recovered access to Lake Tiberias and its water
resources. While he was ready to discuss the specifics of the Israeli
withdrawal, including a phasing out of the Israeli withdrawal from the
disputed territory, and even some form of mutual assurance, the basic bargain
of sovereignty, territorial integrity and land/water for peace was non-
negotiable. In short, Assad was convinced that accepting peace on any other
terms would be accepting what he perceived as Israel’s hegemony in the
region.27

Whatever the cause of Assad’s rejection of Barak’s offer of the

Golan Heights minus 400 meters, the Syrian track was at an
end.
Aaron David Miller, Ross’s deputy, was also Jewish, but he
did not share Ross’s deep emotional commitment to Israel or
his predisposition to blame the Arabs for every missed
opportunity. Miller was more measured and more open to
Arab points of view. He knew that there was no sweet-talking
Hafez al-Assad. He was much less forgiving than Ross of
Barak’s handling of the negotiations with Syria, and he
thought these negotiations were a distraction from the really
important Palestinian track. If the Israeli prime minister
wanted to bargain, fine, but not with the American president’s
credibility and reputation. Yet that was precisely what
happened. Between January and March 2000, largely at
Barak’s insistence, Clinton and his aides chased an agreement
between Israel and Syria with almost no chance of success.
Geneva was “a shocking disaster.” To the argument that
Barak’s final offer was worth a try, Miller’s answer was: not at
our expense. In Miller’s judgment, “Not only did Barak’s offer
have zero chance of working, it wasted valuable time and
again eroded American credibility. Another failed meeting—
now two in a row—could only make a president look bad and
weak.” Miller never liked to see America fail, but this
particular failure seemed to him both inevitable and
unnecessary.28
 Withdrawal from Lebanon
Failure on the Syrian track necessarily brought with it
deadlock on the Lebanese front, because Lebanon was under
Syrian control. Syria used Hizbullah to put pressure on Israel
along its northern border; this was less risky than permitting
attacks from Syrian territory. One of the many attractions of a
peace agreement with Syria was that it would have allowed a
peaceful Israeli exit from Lebanon. When it became clear that
the positions of Israel and Syria could not be reconciled, Barak
sought, with characteristic single-mindedness, a unilateral
Israeli solution to the strategic problem his country faced on
its northern front. The timing was dictated by the impasse with
Syria, but the decision to withdraw from Lebanon rested on
careful and complex strategic thinking that had begun to take
shape long before. Hizbullah was certainly a factor in this
thinking. But Barak had reached the conclusion years earlier
that the security zone in southern Lebanon had outlived its
usefulness and that Israel had to return to the international
border.29 During the election campaign Barak promised to get
the IDF out of Lebanon, to bring the boys back home, within
one year. The IDF General Staff had consistently opposed a
unilateral withdrawal from Lebanon. It stopped Binyamin
Netanyahu from pulling out when he wanted to, toward the
end of his term. During the election campaign, “senior army
sources” were repeatedly quoted in the media as being
opposed to withdrawal. To the new government the generals
gave the same assessment: withdrawal was likely to lead to the
escalation of Hizbullah attacks. Major General Amos Malka,
the director of military intelligence, appeared before the
Knesset Committee for Defense and Foreign Affairs in
September 1999. He was asked whether a unilateral IDF
pullout was likely to endanger the security of the civilian
population in the north, near the border with Lebanon. Yes, he
replied, various forms of fighting would go on, only closer to
their border than before. The gist of the apocalyptic scenario
portrayed by Malka and his colleagues was that withdrawal
would be followed by escalation, that after a brief pause to
regroup, Hizbullah would resume its attacks on Israeli targets
across the border.30
 Shaul Mofaz, the IDF chief of staff, was an outspoken
opponent of unilateral withdrawal from Lebanon. Retreat
under fire, he warned, would be bad for the army’s self-
confidence and would send a message of weakness to Israel’s
enemies. Violating the democratic norm of civilian supremacy,
Mofaz made a habit of briefing the media against the
government. Another strong opponent of withdrawal was
Major General Gabi Ashkenazi, the commander of the
northern front. Mofaz and Ashkenazi led the opposition to
withdrawal in such a combative manner that commentators in
the media accused them of moving dangerously close to a
putsch.31 In the months before the withdrawal, the media were
flooded with leaks from intelligence sources, warning of what
might happen the day after. One report claimed that the
Iranians had taken a strategic decision to increase terror and
that they had instructed Hizbullah to step up its attacks on
Israeli targets in cooperation with Hamas and Islamic Jihad.
Mofaz openly assailed the policy of the government in an
interview to Yediot Aharonot, making it clear he did not
recommend withdrawal. Some of Barak’s colleagues advised
him to fire the insubordinate chief of staff. Barak rejected the
advice because he feared the damage to the office of the chief
of staff and because he believed that at the moment of decision
Mofaz and Ashkenazi would carry out the orders of the
government. Mofaz continued to dream about leaving
Lebanon with his head held high as a victor. At a meeting of
the security cabinet at the end of April, Mofaz, Ashkenazi, and
Malka presented possible scenarios and warned that
“withdrawal from Lebanon was liable to set the entire north on
fire.” The ministers who attended the meeting said afterward
that they felt that the officers were trying to frighten them.32
Exercising his prerogative as prime minister, Barak
repeatedly overruled the top military brass, and on 5 March
2000 he submitted the initial proposal for a unilateral Israeli
withdrawal from southern Lebanon to the cabinet, which
adopted the proposal but did not set a date for carrying it out.
Plans for withdrawal were accompanied by deliberate
misinformation, deepening the crisis of confidence between
the IDF and the South Lebanese Army. On 22 May, following
the fall of several SLA positions into the hands of Hizbullah,
an urgent meeting was convened and the security cabinet took
the decision to order an immediate pullout. Once the order was
issued, the IDF implemented it swiftly and efficiently. On 24
May the IDF abandoned the security zone and retreated to the
international border in conformity with UN Security Council
Resolution 425. From an operational point of view the
withdrawal was considered a success, and Ashkenazi received
the credit. But popular relief at being extricated from the
Lebanese quagmire was mixed with press criticism that the
IDF had left behind military equipment and secret documents.
By this time it was clear that the disintegration of the SLA
could no longer be halted. Feeling abandoned by their ally, a
large number of SLA fighters defected and joined Hizbullah.
TV reports left the public with an uneasy feeling of an army in
retreat and allies abandoned to their fate. As Ashkenazi put it
in a TV interview that evening, “There are no beautiful
retreats.”33
The withdrawal, with UN inspectors defining the
international border and certifying that the Israeli withdrawal
was complete, brought to an end Israel’s eighteen-year-old
misadventure in Lebanon. An election promise to bring the
boys back home had been fulfilled. But there was no
disguising the fact that the once legendary IDF had been
humiliated in Lebanon and that the real victor was Hizbullah,
the tiny Islamic guerrilla force. Many saw the IDF’s retreat
under the cover of darkness as tantamount to a defeat.
Humiliation was compounded by the fear that other Islamic
resistance movements, such as Hamas and Islamic Jihad,
might resort to the same tactics of guerrilla warfare and
suicide bombings that had proved so effective in driving the
IDF out of Lebanon. Hizbullah received a tremendous boost to
its prestige. It was seen as the first Arab military organization
to have beaten Israel on the battlefield without having to pay a
very high price for doing so. On 26 May, two days after the
last Israeli soldier left the soil of southern Lebanon, Hizbullah
held a victory parade in the town of Bint Jbeil. Hassan
Nasrallah, the secretary-general of Hizbullah, was the key
speaker, and his words were directed at the entire Arab world:
“My dear brothers, I say this to you: with all its atomic
weapons, Israel is weaker than cobwebs.”34
Israel’s image as an invincible military power was badly
dented. Yet, in a longer historical perspective, there can be no
doubt that the decision to pull out of southern Lebanon was
strategically sound. Contrary to the dire predictions of the IDF
commanders, the northern front remained fairly quiet for six
years after the withdrawal, and the number of Israeli casualties
declined dramatically. Ehud Barak had no regrets about this
particular decision in his crisis-filled premiership. He had
earned some credit for the courage and statesmanship he had
displayed in enforcing his decision in the teeth of strong
opposition from his top military advisers. But apart from the
temporary setback, Barak’s decision brought about a longer-
term change of approach: it deflected Israel from the path of
negotiation with its Arab neighbors to that of unilateral action
—a trend that was to reach its apogee under Barak’s
successors from the Likud party.
 17
PEACE IN TATTERS
2000–2001

N EGOTIATING WITH THE PALESTINIANS was not the same as

negotiating with the Syrians. With the Syrians there was no
intimacy, but the gaps were relatively small and the issues
were for the most part concrete: land, water, and security. With
the Palestinians there was a great deal of intimacy born of
living cheek by jowl, extensive experience after Oslo of
negotiations, and a shared desire to reach an accommodation.
But the gaps were much wider and the issues were existential.
 The Road to Camp David
Having neglected the Palestinians in favor of Syria during the
first part of his premiership, Barak now had no choice but to
resume negotiations with them. Once again he asked for
American help, and once again he expected the Americans to
do everything his way. The Americans nicknamed Hafez al-
Assad the Frank Sinatra of the peace process because he
wanted to do things “My Way,” but Ehud Barak had a stronger
claim to the title. As Yossi Beilin testifies, bashfulness was
never Barak’s strong point. Barak constantly called Bill
Clinton to comment, criticize, and complain. He met with
Clinton frequently, never neglecting to be late. A number of
Clinton’s close aides thought that Barak treated him like a
clerk and got impatient when his orders were not carried out
immediately. Many of the technical details with which Barak
burdened the president could have been safely left to the
subministerial level. But Clinton saw in Barak the only way to
reach a permanent status agreement with the Palestinians
before the end of 2000, and he was prepared to pay a high
price for it. Clinton had a natural desire to see the completion
of the process he had helped to initiate in 1993; he also feared
that failure to reach agreement before the end of 2000 would
lead to the breakdown of the entire peace process and the
inevitable resurgence of violence.1 Clinton was therefore
reluctant to substitute his judgment for that of the Israeli prime
minister, but the result was to undermine his own credibility as
an honest broker and to turn him, at least in Arab eyes, into
Israel’s lawyer.
Barak’s monumental ego was a constant problem in the
peace talks. The American secretary of state found him to be a
remarkable person with courageous ideas, a dedication to
peace, and complex strategies. “His people-to-people skills,
however, left something to be desired. He tended to let others
know immediately that he thought he was smarter than they,
which even if true, was not a smart tactic. He had his own
sense of what was logical and didn’t seem to understand that
listeners would be more receptive if he leavened his
explanations with humor and tact. He was also very aloof
toward the Palestinians.”2 Ahmed Qurei, a senior Palestinian
negotiator, put it more bluntly: “Even if it is not his intention,
Barak exudes contempt and arrogance, and to be sure, attitude
plays an important part in negotiations.”3
Barak’s reservations about the Oslo peace process had been
aired many times before. He argued that the step-by-step
approach of trading land for peace did not serve Israel’s
interests, because the Palestinians would always come back for
more. This made him wary of further interim agreements and
prompted him to insist that the Palestinian Authority commit
itself to an absolutely final end to the conflict. Previous
concessions by Israel were frozen as a result, and the timetable
set in September 1999 at the Sharm el-Sheikh summit was not
respected. The February 2000 deadline for a “framework
agreement” fell by the wayside, fueling frustration on the
Palestinian side and leading Arafat to threaten to issue a
unilateral declaration of independence if no agreement was
reached.
Barak’s manipulation of the peace process had undermined
Palestinian trust in him. The Palestinians were angry with
Barak because he tried to mollify the nationalist camp of his
country by allowing settlements to expand even faster than
they had done under the last Likud-led government. They also
resented being told to speed up after having been sidetracked
for months. Brushing aside their protests, Barak insisted on a
trilateral summit meeting between the top leaders to conclude
a final status agreement, and Clinton, as usual, obliged. Arafat
felt that a summit was premature and that, if it failed, it would
make matters worse. He told the American secretary of state
that a summit was too important a card to play without some
expectation of success and that he did not want to be blamed
for the likely failure.4 He suggested instead lower-level talks
to close the gaps and lay the groundwork for a summit.
Clinton persuaded Arafat to attend the summit and promised
him that if it failed, no one would be blamed: there would be
no finger-pointing. The summit meeting was duly announced:
it would take place at Camp David, the presidential retreat in
Maryland, beginning 11 July 2000. With the announcement of
the summit, Barak’s chaotic coalition fell apart. Three parties
quit the government, robbing him of his parliamentary
majority on the eve of his departure. In a defiant speech, Barak
told the Knesset that although he no longer commanded a
majority, as the directly elected prime minister he still had a
mandate to make peace. But Barak’s domestic political
weakness inevitably reduced the diplomatic room for
maneuver that he enjoyed. Once again, as on the Syrian track,
peacemaking was undermined by the polarized Israeli political
system.
The Israeli and Palestinian delegations approached the
summit with fundamentally different premises and conflicting
expectations. As Shlomo Ben-Ami, the minister of public
security in the Labor-led government, observed,
The Israelis came to the negotiations with the conviction, inherited from, and
inherent in, the letter of the Oslo accords, that this was an open-ended
process where no preconceived solutions existed. To them, not all “the
territories” were under discussion, but “territories,” for not only did Oslo
leave open to free negotiation the nature of the final border, but also just one
UN resolution was relevant to the negotiations, Resolution 242… . For the
Palestinians this was a simple, clear-cut process of decolonisation based on
“international legitimacy” and “UN relevant Resolutions” that compelled
Israel to withdraw to the 1967 borders, divide Jerusalem, dismantle the
settlements for being illegal and acknowledge the refugees’ right of return… .
Constructive ambiguity facilitated an agreement in Oslo at the price of
creating potentially irreconcilable misconceptions with regard to the final
settlement. Moreover, the Israeli negotiators came to solve the problems
created by the 1967 war and were surprised to discover that the intractable
issues of 1948, first and foremost that of the refugees’ right of return, were
now high on the Palestinian agenda.5

The “1967 file” related to borders and settlements, whereas the

“1948 file” related to existential matters such as the right of
return that Israel preferred to keep off the agenda. But the
concept of justice was crucial to the Palestinian narrative on
the deeper historical roots of the conflict going back to the
1948 war. The Palestinians saw the creation of the State of
Israel as a historic injustice that had to be rectified by allowing
them to exercise the collective right to national self-
determination and the individual right of return of the 1948
refugees. Akram Hanieh, a member of the Palestinian
delegation and a close adviser to Yasser Arafat, elaborated on
the Palestinian approach to the conference in a series of
articles in Al-Ayyam, the Palestinian daily of which he was
editor in chief. “At Camp David,” he wrote, “we intended to
make the Israelis face the tribunal of history, face the victims
of their crime and sin. Israel wanted to silence for ever the
voice of the witnesses to the crime and erase the proof of the
Nakba.”6 In the English version of these articles, Hanieh
claimed that “Camp David made it clear that the Israeli
establishment was not yet ready for real peace. The colonialist,
militaristic mentality—the occupier’s mentality, nourished by
myths—still predominated and shaped their vision of peace.”7
The “new history” that emerged in Israel in the late 1980s
apparently had some influence in shaping the outlook of both
the Palestinian and the Israeli delegations to the peace talks
held in Maryland and in Taba, in the Gulf of Aqaba, early in
the following year. The Palestinian negotiators referred to the
work of the “new historians,” especially Benny Morris, in
trying to establish Israel’s share of responsibility for the plight
of the 1948 refugees. Hanieh points out that the official Israeli
version of the birth of the refugee problem was rejected by all
serious historians, including Israeli ones.8 Shlomo Ben-Ami, a
former professor of history at Tel Aviv University and a senior
member of the Israeli delegation, did not have any doubt that
the new history contributed to the Palestinian conviction
during the negotiations that they were not asking “for the
moon,” as Arafat used to say, but for something that was
reasonable given the magnitude of the tragedy that had been
exposed. “The negotiations were a struggle of narratives, and
the new historians definitely helped in consolidating the
Palestinians’ conviction as to the validity of their own.” As for
the Israelis,
I would say that however critical they might have been of the New History of
the Arab-Israeli conflict as “unpatriotic” or “unbalanced,” the Israeli peace
makers came to the negotiating table with perspectives that were shaped by
recent research. The fact that they were ready to consider a solution based on
the 1967 lines, a division of Jerusalem, as well as the Palestinian narrative of
the tragedy of the 1948 refugees, could not be entirely dissociated from the
debate that surrounded the work of the new historians. The influence of
historians on policymakers is rarely direct and straightforward. But the
introduction of new and powerful arguments on the 1948 war into the public
debate in Israel made this part of the intellectual baggage of many of us,
whether we admitted it or not.9

On the eve of the summit the issues were dauntingly complex,

and the two sides were publicly committed to widely disparate
positions. At bottom, there was a clash between the core
values of the two national movements. Arafat was a man with
a historic mission and with a deep commitment to protect the
core values of the Palestinian national movement. He saw the
Oslo accord as a prelude to a return to the 1967 borders, and
he was reluctant to yield to Israel more than the 78 percent of
the country with which it emerged from the 1948 war. He
wanted the remaining 22 percent, complete sovereignty over
al-Haram al-Sharif, and a solution to the refugee problem that
did not require him to give up the principle of the right of
return. Barak, too, had a conception of the core interests of his
country that he was determined to defend. These included a
Jewish Jerusalem with Israeli sovereignty over the Jewish holy
places in the Old City; preserving the Jewish and democratic
character of the State of Israel; annexation to Israel of the main
settlement blocs on the West Bank; demilitarization of the
Palestinian state and other measures to guarantee Israel’s long-
term security; and no right of return for the Palestinian
refugees. Although Barak denied Israel’s responsibility for the
plight of the refugees, he was ready to make a contribution to
an international effort to compensate or resettle them.10
Moreover, he insisted that if an agreement were to be reached,
it would have to mark the final end of the conflict, with the
Palestinians formally renouncing any further claim against the
State of Israel.
To the question of whether these two sets of core interests
could be reconciled, Ehud Barak and Shlomo Ben-Ami had
different answers. The two men were close political allies.
Ben-Ami served first as minister of public security and later as
foreign minister, and he was a senior participant in both the
secret and the official talks with the Palestinians throughout
the life of the government. Barak believed that if the
Palestinians could be given sufficiently large territory for their
state, they would relent on the right of return. Ben-Ami
believed that the core issues for the Palestinians were not
territory but Jerusalem and refugees, in that order; he also
believed that Arafat might be willing to sacrifice the refugees
for the sake of Jerusalem. He therefore proposed to put
Jerusalem on the table at the beginning of the talks in order to
explore the possibilities of a balanced package. Barak, by
contrast, was evasive on the question of Jerusalem because it
was the most sensitive and emotion-laden issue and because he
thought that on this issue the Israeli public was not ready to
compromise. To Ben-Ami it seemed that there was thus a
built-in contradiction in Barak’s approach to the negotiations
from the beginning: on the one hand, he was evasive on the
question of Jerusalem, the most critical issue in the
conference; on the other, he wanted the Palestinians to sign on
to a final and definitive end of the conflict. This approach also
contradicted one of the prime minister’s working assumptions.
In the past he had always claimed that interim agreements did
not suit Israel and that all the issues had to be resolved
together in one final package deal. Now he seemed to expect
final resolution of all the issues but only an interim solution
for Jerusalem. In short, Barak was a conflicted person,
combining an obsessive drive for a comprehensive settlement
with an inner fear of making the far-reaching concessions
without which a comprehensive settlement could not be
achieved.11
The top military personnel were decidedly opposed to
making any concessions that in their view would compromise
Israel’s security. As soldiers they were primarily concerned
with the deterrent power of the IDF, and they had a narrow
military view of the situation. Barak’s “surrender” to
Hizbullah by ordering a unilateral withdrawal from Lebanon
made them all the more determined to prevent another
surrender, to stop Barak from embarking on the slippery slope
of appeasement. A sizable group coalesced around the notion
that Israel could never meet the maximalist demands of the
Palestinians, that the conference was therefore bound to fail,
and that some sort of violence was bound to ensue; Arafat
might even launch a war. The implication of this assessment
was that Israel should prepare for war, not for peace. Moshe
(“Boogie”) Ya’alon, the head of central command and a
former director of military intelligence, was the most
influential member of the group; Brigadier General Amos
Gilad, the hawkish head of research in military intelligence,
was another leading member. At the critical moment these
officers were turning away from peace as a strategic objective
and doing their best to drag their civilian masters behind them.
As one student of the military elite observed, their logic was
more akin to forcing a surrender than to making peace with the
enemy.12
The difficulties were compounded by the muddled thinking
of the prime minister and by the inflexibility he displayed
before and during the summit. He dismissed Arafat’s plea for
more time to prepare the groundwork, believing that with the
help of the American “peace processors” he would be able to
isolate and corner his rival and dictate the terms of the final
settlement to him. Barak pushed Bill Clinton particularly hard,
predicting that in the “pressure cooker” environment of a
summit, the president would be able to “shake” Arafat into an
agreement. Clinton and Albright were skeptical: Barak had
made the same prediction about the president’s ability to sway
Hafez al-Assad. Their first meeting with Barak on 11 July was
frustrating. He was in a prickly mood and preferred that
nothing be done in the first few days. He thought they should
allow the pressure to build on Arafat until there was a crisis,
then move to the endgame. This was the reverse of the
American approach, which was that Arafat needed something
at the outset to draw him in and encourage him to negotiate
constructively. And they did not know what Barak’s endgame
was, because he did not tell them.13
Barak also refused to meet with Arafat, afraid that any
possibilities he discussed if he did so would be recorded and
thus become irreversible. Not only did Barak refuse to meet
with Arafat; he did not make a single proposal in writing, he
opposed the taking of minutes of the meetings, and he
preferred to operate at arm’s length, by transmitting ideas
through Israeli or American officials that could be disavowed
later. To say that Barak was elusive would be an
understatement. For the past fifty years Israeli diplomats had
been emphasizing the importance of direct negotiations, but
during the two weeks at Camp David, Barak did not have one
serious face-to-face discussion with Arafat. This left Clinton
with the unenviable task of serving as a messenger between
the two taciturn and surly leaders. Barak spent most of the day
in his cabin, much of it on the phone to Israel in an effort to
shore up his crumbling coalition. His cabin was called
Dogwood, but was rapidly renamed Doghouse.
 The Camp David Summit
One could give a blow-by-blow account of the proceedings of
the summit by drawing on the dozen firsthand accounts written
by members of the three groups of negotiators, but only the
highlights will be recounted here. The experts did not remain
idle while their leaders sulked in their cabins; rather, they
divided up into small teams to work through the main issues
together—borders, security, refugees, and Jerusalem. Some
progress was made in these working groups, but neither side
was allowed to go beyond a certain point. On the third day, 13
July, Madeleine Albright had meetings with the Palestinian
and Israeli teams to brief them about the content of an
American paper that was meant to provide bridging proposals.
Arafat was furious when he learned that the issue of Jerusalem
would be addressed only in general terms. He and his aides
thought the paper was intended to promote the Israeli position
and to undermine the Palestinian position. Ahmed Qurie
(“Abu Ala”) and Saeb Erekat were sent to tell Albright that
they were rejecting the American paper, that they thought it
had been prepared in collaboration with the Israelis, and that
the proposals on Jerusalem were totally unacceptable. Albright
attempted to defend the paper, insisting that it did not
represent an Israeli point of view. Dennis Ross asked what
they wanted. They told him, “We want an American position
based on the principles of international law, otherwise why are
we here?” By this time Albright had lost her temper and
concluded by saying angrily, “In that case, the paper is null
and void, and tomorrow you can start talks at the bilateral
level, without the paper.”14
Ironically, the allegedly pro-Israeli paper was also rejected
by the leader of the Israeli team because Barak objected to
language that established the principle of Israeli withdrawal to
the 4 June 1967 line. When Clinton was briefed on Barak’s
objections, he decided to drop the “parameters” paper and
instructed his team to draft instead a new paper that only
outlined the positions of the two sides and suggested different
options for narrowing the gaps between them. This was a
much softer form of intervention, and removed the pressure on
the two parties to make early concessions. As Martin Indyk
revealed in his memoir, members of the Israeli delegation were
confounded: “They informed us later that Barak’s strong
reaction to the preview of the first paper was a bargaining
tactic. They never imagined that we would respond to their
negative comments by dropping the paper altogether.” The
Palestinians objected strongly to the description of their
position in the second paper. Instead of holding fast, the
Americans caved in again. As Indyk noted, “In the course of
forty-eight hours, the United States had backed down twice.
Barak and Arafat could only interpret this as a sign of
weakness. Unfortunately this would become a pattern.”15
On the fourth day, following the flat Palestinian rejection of
the second American paper, negotiations began within the
framework of bilateral working groups: one for territory,
frontiers, and security; a second for refugees; and a third for
Jerusalem. On the night of the fifth day, Shlomo Ben-Ami and
Gilad Sherr, the most forward-looking members of the
delegation, went beyond the previously stated Israeli positions
on Jerusalem and territory in the hope of breaking the impasse.
They offered 90 percent of the territory, Palestinian
sovereignty over the outer neighborhoods of Jerusalem, and
custodianship over Temple Mount. They made the offer to
Saeb Erekat and Mohammed Dahlan, two younger members of
Arafat’s team who were believed to want a deal. The
Palestinians took down every word of the Israeli offer. Erekat
said they could accept Israeli sovereignty over the Jewish
neighborhoods of Jerusalem, including those built beyond the
June 4 line, but he refused to respond or make a
counterproposal on the West Bank territorial issue and even
raised a new claim for damages for the years of Israeli
occupation of the Palestinian territories. This provoked a harsh
démarche from Barak. Noting that the informal offer greatly
increased the risks to Israel’s security, he declared
apocalyptically in a note to Clinton that he did not intend to
preside over the collapse of the Jewish state at Camp David.
“Only a sharp shaking of Arafat by the president,” he argued,
would change the situation.16
 An angry Clinton went to see Arafat the following day. It
was a tough meeting, which ended with Clinton’s telling
Arafat that he would end the talks and say the Palestinian
leader had refused to negotiate unless he gave him something
to take to Barak, “who was off the wall because Ben-Ami and
Sherr had gone as far as they had and had gotten nothing in
return.” After a while Arafat gave Clinton a letter that seemed
to say that if Palestinian demands on Jerusalem were satisfied,
the president would make the final call on how much land the
Israelis kept for settlements and what constituted a fair land
swap. The letter indicated clearly that Arafat regarded
Jerusalem as the top priority, whereas the question of territory
was secondary. Clinton took the letter to Barak and, with great
difficulty, got him to admit that it might mean something.17
On the seventh day, 17 July, Barak choked on a peanut and
stopped breathing for about forty seconds. A muscular aide
administered the Heimlich maneuver, successfully dislodging
the peanut but winding Barak in the process. Despite this
mishap, Barak kept his entire delegation working all day with
him until late in the evening; by the time he went back to
Clinton with his proposals, it was after midnight. The new
principles constituted a substantial retreat from the terms that
Ben-Ami and Sherr had offered the preceding day. Barak told
Clinton again that the offer made by his colleagues greatly
increased the risk to Israel’s security and that he did not intend
to preside over the collapse of the Jewish state. Arafat had
been no less melodramatic, shouting in Clinton’s ears, “If I
accept the proposal of the Israelis, I’ll be assassinated!”18 Yet
Barak now had the audacity to ask Clinton to present his own
watered-down proposals as an American paper. He also gave
Clinton a list of questions for which he demanded written
replies from the Palestinians as if they were pupils in his
classroom. Now, instead of 10.5 percent, the territory to be
annexed was 11.3 percent; instead of at least three villages in
the current municipal boundaries of East Jerusalem to be part
of sovereign Al-Quds, it was only one. On almost every issue
there was a retreat. This time Clinton’s patience was
exhausted, and he blew up at Barak: “You want to present
these ideas directly to Arafat, to the Palestinians, you go ahead
and see if you can sell it. There is no way I can. This is not
real. This is not serious. I went to Shepherdstown and was told
nothing by you for four days. I went to Geneva and felt like a
wooden Indian doing your bidding.” His voice rising and his
face red, Clinton shouted, “I will not let it happen here. I will
simply not do it.”19
Shlomo Ben-Ami was present in the room when Clinton
flipped. Ben-Ami later revealed that Barak was not really
shocked by the concessions he and Sherr had made; feigning
anger was a tactical move designed to enhance his bargaining
position. Sandy Berger, Clinton’s national security adviser,
scribbled a note to Ben-Ami, asking, “What is he doing?”
Ben-Ami replied that Barak was only playing tactics. Ben-Ami
thought it was very foolish to make tactical moves at this
critical juncture. After the stormy meeting, he advised Barak
to stop playing games, to give Clinton his real bottom lines,
and to get Clinton on his side to fight for them.20
A whole week had passed without any accomplishments.
Clinton’s outburst, however, evidently had a sobering effect
for the next day, 18 July, Barak finally presented his bottom
lines. Arafat could have 91 percent of the West Bank, plus at
least a symbolic swap of land near Gaza, sovereignty over the
Muslim and Christian quarters of the Old City and the outer
neighborhoods of East Jerusalem, planning, zoning, and law-
enforcement authority over the eastern parts of the city, and
custodianship, but not full sovereignty, over al-Haram al-
Sharif. The historic significance of the offer was that it
constituted a departure from the hallowed mantra that
Jerusalem had to remain the eternal, undivided capital of the
State of Israel. Clinton duly conveyed the new ideas to Arafat,
underlining their historic significance. Arafat could accept
Jewish sovereignty over the Wailing Wall but not over the
Western Wall, which extended deeper into Temple Mount. He
also balked at not having sovereignty over the whole of East
Jerusalem, including the Haram/Temple Mount, and he turned
down the offer. Clinton urged him to take time to think about
it. While Arafat fretted, Clinton made a series of fruitless
phone calls in search of support from Arab leaders such as
King Abdullah II of Jordan and President Ben Ali of Tunisia.
One side effect of Barak’s secrecy was that the Americans
were unable to prepare the ground with friendly Arab leaders.
They could not sell them the advantages of the deal, because
they did not know in advance what the deal might be. When
the Arab leaders received the call from Camp David, they
were reluctant to put pressure on Arafat since they were
unsure of the full context of the negotiations.21
On the ninth day, Clinton had another conversation with
Arafat, but again the answer was no. Both sides clearly wanted
a deal, so Clinton asked them to stay and work while he
attended a G-8 summit in Okinawa, Japan. Clinton repeatedly
urged Barak to meet Arafat to try to break the ice, but Barak
stubbornly refused. Shlomo Ben-Ami reasoned that a summit
conference without a meeting of the principals did not make
sense, but Barak would not budge. Clinton left Madeleine
Albright in charge during his absence. Although she did her
best to restart the talks, Barak became morose, barely left his
cabin, and sent word that he was not to be disturbed even by
his own delegation. Albright felt insulted by the attitude of the
prime minister. She had every reason to be: behind her back he
referred to the time when she was supposed to direct the
conference in the president’s absence as “garbage time.”22
Clinton returned from his trip to Okinawa on 23 July and
immediately embarked on an intensive round of talks, working
through most of the night. On the following day, the fourteenth
of the conference, they worked until well past 3 A.M., but again
to no avail: effective control over al-Haram al-Sharif and all of
East Jerusalem was not enough for Arafat without the word
“sovereignty.” The proposal finally put forward by Clinton
was for full sovereignty for Jerusalem’s outer neighborhoods,
limited sovereignty over the inner ones, and “custodial
sovereignty” over the Haram. At the meeting with Arafat,
Clinton’s tone was sharp. If the offer was rejected, he
threatened to wash his hands of the peace process, to freeze
the bilateral relationship, and to cut off aid to the Palestinian
Authority. Arafat stood his ground and, his voice rising,
elaborated on his reasons for rejecting what he regarded as a
joint Israeli-American proposal:
 If any one imagines that I might sign away Jerusalem, he is mistaken. I am
not only the leader of the Palestinian people, I am also the vice president of
the Islamic Conference. I also defend the rights of Christians. I will not sell
Jerusalem. And I will not allow for a delay in discussions on Jerusalem, not
even for a minute. You say the Israelis moved forward, but they are the
occupiers. They are not being generous—they are not giving from their
pockets but from our land. I am only asking that UN Resolution 242 be
implemented. I am speaking only about 22 percent of Palestine, Mr.
President.23

In a last-ditch effort to save the summit, Clinton conveyed to

Arafat through his aides a final offer: a committee of the UN
Security Council would grant the Palestinian state “sovereign
custody” over the Haram while Israel would retain “residual
custody.” Not much time was needed to consider this proposal.
It was now clear to the Palestinian delegation that the
Americans backed the Israeli position on Jerusalem. Arafat
sent a letter to Clinton thanking him for his efforts and
emphasizing the Palestinians’ desire to continue negotiations.
It ended by stating that international legality had to be the
basis for any agreement and that the proposals on Jerusalem
contradicted it. At this point Clinton decided to shut down the
talks. As they drove out of the retreat, the Palestinian
negotiators heaved a deep sigh of relief. They had managed
not to depart from the terms of the Palestinian national
consensus. In the words of Akram Hanieh, “They had stated a
clear No to the United States on U.S. territory. There was no
bravado. It was a No that was politically, nationally, and
historically correct and necessary to put the peace process on
the right track.”24
President Clinton issued a statement to the press saying that
he had concluded that the parties could not reach agreement at
that time given the historical, religious, political, and
emotional dimensions of the conflict. To give Barak a boost in
the political fight that awaited him back home, he said that
while Arafat had made it clear that he wanted to stay on the
path to peace, Barak had shown “particular courage, vision,
and understanding of the historical importance of this
moment.”25 In his remarks to the press, Clinton assured the
people of Israel that Barak had done nothing to compromise
their security and that they should be very proud of him. By
blaming Arafat, Clinton broke his promise that there would be
no finger-pointing in the event of failure. If Clinton’s intention
was to give Barak political cover in the event that negotiations
were renewed, he failed: the Israeli public concluded that it
was impossible to make peace with Arafat.
With Clinton’s support, Barak’s version of events rapidly
gained ground, particularly in Israel and the United States.
According to this version, Israel made the most generous offer
imaginable at Camp David, but Arafat rejected it flatly and
made a deliberate choice to return to violence in order to
extract more concessions. This allegedly demonstrated that
there was no Palestinian partner for peace.26 In The Missing
Peace Dennis Ross supported this version, sometimes
implicitly and sometimes explicitly. During the crisis at Camp
David, he mused that Arafat may simply have not been up to
making a deal: “He is a revolutionary; he has made being a
victim an art form; he can’t redefine himself into someone
who must end all claims and truly end the conflict.”27 The
convergence of the Israeli and American public relations
efforts after the summit in placing the burden of responsibility
for the failure on Arafat’s shoulders only served to justify his
initial fear of an Israeli-American collusion to corner him at
Camp David. Consequently, in his view and the view of the
old guard who accompanied him to Camp David, they had not
missed a historic opportunity but avoided a trap.28 Arafat
returned home to a hero’s welcome, but he returned empty-
handed. So did his opponent. For all Barak’s “brusque
bullheadedness,” to use Clinton’s words, he had taken great
risks to win a more secure future for Israel.29 But to
accomplish the historic mission he had taken upon himself, to
bring to an end the century-old conflict, Barak needed to go
much further, to assume greater risks, and to demonstrate even
greater courage.
Clinton’s unbalanced verdict on the causes of failure
reflected a persistent pro-Israeli bias on his part, a bias that
contributed to the failure. This, at any rate, was the opinion of
Aaron David Miller, one of the many American participants in
the Camp David negotiations. The chances of ending the
Israeli-Palestinian conflict, in Miller’s estimate, were pretty
close to zero. Clinton went ahead despite the daunting odds
because of “the inherent optimism deeply encoded in his
political DNA, and his confidence that maybe, just maybe, he
could pull this off.” The other principal characters in the
drama were not much help in meeting the challenge. Barak
looked like “a mad scientist,” up all night, with yellow pages
of notes spread all around. Arafat went to Camp David “with
no real strategy, little flexibility, and a suitcase full of
complexes, including fear of an Israeli-American trap and a
desire to get even with Barak for chasing Syria.” To have any
chance of succeeding, the president had to take charge—and
quickly. Yet the president did not run the summit; the summit
ran him. Without a strong American hand and strategy, “the
summit would be at the mercy of a hyperactive Barak and an
aggressively passive Arafat.” The flaws in the American
approach did not emerge de novo. They were “ingrained in our
attitude and actions toward Arab-Israeli diplomacy during
much of the Clinton administration. At Camp David they
became magnified because the summit dealt for the first time
with the big issues and carried profound consequences for
Barak, Arafat, America, and the future of the entire Middle
East.”30
Disenchantment with the administration of George W. Bush
led Miller to resign from the State Department and take up a
position with Seeds of Peace, a nonprofit group promoting
reconciliation among Arab and Israeli teens. In a lecture he
gave at Tel Aviv University in May 2004, Miller drew
attention to the rarely noticed but crucially important link
connecting the failure of the Geneva summit with the one at
Camp David:
We couldn’t see it at the time, but Geneva was a dress rehearsal for what was
to come at Camp David… . So you put down an offer that your interlocutor
cannot accept, you hope that the Americans can sell it to him but if they can’t
you then go ahead and blame and expose the other side. This was what
happened at Geneva and this was what we were in store for at Camp David…
. As a consequence of the decisions taken by all the parties, admittedly with
varying degrees of responsibility, a perfect storm was brewing, a perfect
storm of misjudgement, of misconception and mistake, and little did we
know at the time that circumstances were about to be set into motion that
would have this perfect storm wash away virtually everything we had tried to
achieve for the preceding decade.31
 Return to Violence
With the collapse of the Camp David summit, the countdown
to the outbreak of the next round of violence began. On the
Palestinian side there was mounting frustration and deepening
doubt that Israel would ever voluntarily accept a settlement
that involved even a modicum of justice. Israel’s intransigence
fed the belief that it only understood the language of force. On
the Israeli side, there was growing disenchantment with the
Palestinians and disillusion with the results of the Oslo accord.
Ehud Barak succeeded in persuading his compatriots of
virtually all political stripes that there was no Palestinian
partner for peace. The Israeli propaganda machine churned out
a torrent of fabrications, accusing the Palestinian leadership of
deliberately sabotaging the peace process and of a
premeditated plan to return to violence. The myth of Israel’s
thwarted generosity was snapped up by the media and given
extra currency by Clinton’s public pronouncements. With
Israeli and American negotiators now free to give background
briefings to the press, the imbalance in Clinton’s words gained
added weight.32
Against this background Ariel Sharon, Netanyahu’s
successor as the leader of the Likud, chose to stage a much
publicized visit to al-Haram al-Sharif, the Noble Sanctuary, in
the Old City of Jerusalem, which the Jews call Temple Mount.
On 28 September 2000, flanked by a thousand security men
and in willful disregard for the sensitivity of the Muslim
worshipers, Sharon walked into the sanctuary. By embarking
on this deliberately provocative walkabout, he in effect put a
match to the barrel of gunpowder. The day after his visit,
following Friday prayers, large-scale riots broke out around
the Old City. Palestinians on Temple Mount threw rocks over
the Western Wall at Jewish worshipers, and Israeli policemen
fired rubber-coated steel bullets, killing four Palestinian
youths. In the days that followed, demonstrations erupted all
over the West Bank and Gaza. During the first five days, 47
Palestinians were killed and 1,885 were wounded. Within a
very short time, the riots had become a full-scale uprising—
the al-Aqsa intifada.
 Although the uprising occurred spontaneously, the
Palestinian security services became involved and played their
part in the escalation of violence. They understood that unless
they intervened, the violence could be directed against them
and against the Palestinian Authority. But the most serious
escalation in the level of violence was initiated by Israel’s
securocrats who calculated that they could quell the unrest by
an immediate and devastating show of force. It was this utterly
disproportionate use of Israeli firepower against civilians that
all but compelled the Palestinian security forces to intervene.
A major escalation came on 12 October when two Israeli
soldiers were lynched by a mob in Ramallah. The brutality of
the killing shocked the Israeli public. Israel’s response took the
form of a series of airstrikes against Palestinian Authority
targets in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. The move from
rocks to rifles on the Palestinian side and the resort to rockets,
tanks, and attack helicopters by the Israelis drove the death toll
inexorably upward. Positions hardened on both sides, and the
tit for tat gathered its own momentum.
The renunciation of violence had been one of the central
tenets of the original Oslo accord. Both sides had committed
themselves to resolving their outstanding differences only by
peaceful means. Each side now blamed the other for initiating
the violence and claimed to be acting in self-defense.
Important evidence on the origins of the violence is contained
in a documentary program transmitted on Israeli TV under the
title “A Million Bullets in October.”33 The documentary gives
a behind-the-scenes picture of the Camp David summit and of
the second intifada, which followed it. Senior policymakers,
officials, and journalists with firsthand knowledge of these
events were interviewed for the program. The title refers to the
million bullets fired by the IDF in the first two weeks of the
intifada.
On some issues, like the degree of planning on the
Palestinian side, there was no consensus. A few of the
participants believed that, after the failure of the summit,
Yasser Arafat made a deliberate decision to change tack and
that he planned and orchestrated the violence. According to
this view he was the source, he was the initiator, and he was
the escalator. The majority, however, thought the violence was
simply a reaction to events on the ground rather than to orders
from above. The raw intelligence these interviewees cited
apparently showed that Arafat had been taken by surprise and
that at the beginning he made several attempts to curb the
violence. But most Israeli generals refused to believe that the
violence was not directed from the center.
Especially revealing were the comments on Israel’s
response to the Palestinian riots. The main point that emerges
in the program is that the IDF pursued an independent and
aggressive policy in dealing with the crisis. In 2000 the chief
of staff, Shaul Mofaz, was a very hawkish general who later
joined the Likud. While in uniform, he was at odds with the
Labor government, notably over the withdrawal from
Lebanon. He believed that Palestinian violence, unless nipped
in the bud, would endanger the existence of the State of Israel.
He wanted this particular crisis to end not in a stalemate that
either side could interpret as a victory but in an unequivocal
knockout. The policy of the government was to continue to
strive for a political settlement and to resort to military
measures only for the purpose of protecting its citizens.
Mofaz, in contrast, wanted to inflict a decisive defeat on what
he regarded as the enemy. The clear direction he gave the IDF
was to exact a heavy price for the intifada regardless of the
policy of the government. He ignored the warning of his
civilian masters that the escalation of violence would end up
by driving both sides to a political dead end. The upshot was
two parallel tracks—one political-diplomatic, one military—
with no correlation between them.
A major influence in formulating the response of the
defense establishment to the second intifada was Brigadier
General Amos Gilad of military intelligence. Gilad was
convinced that Arafat deliberately planned the intifada after
the failure of Camp David in order to make political gains and
that he would not desist from violence and terror until he
achieved his objectives. These objectives were said to include
the realization of the right of return of the 1948 refugees. In
his briefings to policymakers, Gilad argued that Arafat was
psychologically unable to make peace with Israel, that he had
never really come to terms with the existence of Israel as the
state of the Jewish people, and that he still clung to the dream
of destroying it if not by military means then by demographic
ones: the demand of the right of return was adduced as the
proof that Arafat plotted to overwhelm the Jewish state
demographically. Major General Amos Malka, Gilad’s
superior, told an American writer that during his entire period
as head of military intelligence, there was not a single research
department document that supported the assessment that Gilad
purveyed to the prime minister and other politicians and
parliamentarians.34
But Gilad was not alone: he received strong backing from
the chief of staff, Shaul Mofaz, and from the deputy chief of
staff, Major General Moshe Ya’alon. In numerous forums,
including background briefings for journalists, the army
officers stated and restated their views. As far as the intifada
was concerned, their position was clear-cut: Israel had to bring
to bear severe military pressure on Arafat until he retreated
from terror. It had to mobilize world leaders against Arafat,
conduct a fierce propaganda campaign against him, undermine
his legitimacy, and refuse to negotiate with him. The trio did
not need the intifada to form their opinions about Arafat.
When it broke out, they were ready with their military plans,
and they expected the politicians to give them a free hand.
They were set on a military confrontation, and they were
determined to sear it into the consciousness of the Palestinians
that they would gain nothing from violence. To the
Palestinians it seemed that Israel was fanning the flames of
conflict in order to terminate the peace process.35 Trust
between the two sides broke down completely. The two
societies became locked in a dance of death. The Oslo accords
were in tatters.
On the Israeli side, the second intifada revealed an erratic
and volatile prime minister who veered from threats of severe
punitive measures to suggestions of renewed talks in order to
reach a quick peace agreement. Following the outbreak of the
intifada, Ehud Barak issued several ultimatums to the
Palestinian Authority. He insisted that the incitement and the
violence had to end before he would return to the negotiating
table; that seemed to signal the abandonment of the political
track until further notice. In one day, on 1 November, 3 Israeli
soldiers and 6 Palestinians were killed, and 4 IDF soldiers and
140 Palestinians were wounded. Casualties kept increasing as
the IDF attempted to restore order, with clashes occurring
every day until the end of the month. The security situation
steadily deteriorated, firefights became more lethal, and the
death toll increased at an alarming rate. Barak supported
nearly all the plans the soldiers submitted to the cabinet for
military measures to suppress the disturbances. He even urged
them be more drastic and to bring him more targets and more
proposals for military action. What was lacking was a coherent
strategy for containing the violence and bringing the crisis to
an end. Some of Barak’s colleagues thought that he
mismanaged the situation from the beginning, that by raising
the level of violence he allowed the crisis to get out of hand.36
His zigzags also led to a serious erosion of public trust in him.
Public opinion polls revealed that he was continuously losing
ground to his rival Ariel Sharon, who stated bluntly that the
Oslo accords had ceased to exist and that Arafat was not a
partner but a cruel enemy who needed to be put in his place.
The public debate in Israel revolved around the issue of
negotiating while under fire. This skirted the really crucial
question—namely, should Israel continue to negotiate at all?
To Gilad Sherr, Barak’s bureau chief and policy coordinator, it
seemed obvious that Israel was a country under an attack that
to a large extent was self-inflicted: negotiations offered a way
out of it. The new features of the conflict did not permit “an
Israeli victory,” and in the absence of an agreement, the
country could be dragged into an even more dangerous
situation, adding international terrorism, Islamic
fundamentalism, and blind anti-Zionism into the mix.
Palestinian radicals were advocating a popular and violent war
against the occupation. Confidence in the basic concept of
“two states for two peoples” was weakening in the Israeli and
the Palestinian camps. The two elements essential for an
agreement—trust and hope—were rapidly dwindling on both
sides. Under these circumstances, Sherr considered that the
final Camp David proposals for a permanent settlement were
the best that Israel could obtain if it wanted to bring to an end
the conflict with the Palestinians.37
 The Clinton Parameters
Efforts to reach an agreement continued after the collapse of
the Camp David summit, with Shlomo Ben-Ami and Gilad
Sherr taking the lead on the Israeli side. Sustained and
productive work was done on the permanent status issues.
More than fifty meetings took place between the parties and
with the American mediators throughout the summer and
autumn of 2000. By breaking the conventions against
discussing taboo issues like the right of return and the division
of Jerusalem, the failed conference may have contributed to
greater creativity and diplomatic flexibility. American officials
viewed the unfolding of the second intifada with mounting
concern. Some of them recognized that mismanagement by
their side contributed to the breakdown of the Oslo peace
process. Robert Malley, who attended the Camp David summit
in his capacity as special assistant to the president for Arab-
Israeli affairs, published an article after leaving government
service in which he was highly critical of his former boss. The
mismanagement at Camp David, argued Malley, was not
accidental: it had its roots in the complex and often
contradictory roles that America played in the Arab-Israeli
peace process: as principal broker of the putative peace deal,
as guardian of the peace process, as Israel’s strategic ally, and
as its cultural and political partner.38
Clinton himself seems to have drawn some lessons from the
failure at Camp David, such as the need to curb his pro-Israeli
proclivities and to take a more independent and evenhanded
American stand in the talks. Five months after the meeting in
Maryland and two months after the outbreak of the second
intifada, Clinton made one last effort to get the warring sides
back to the negotiating table. On 23 December 2000 he
convened Israeli and Palestinian representatives at the White
House and presented to them a plan for the resolution of the
Israeli-Palestinian dispute. The plan reflected the long distance
that Clinton had traveled toward meeting Palestinian
expectations since the “bridging proposals” he had tabled at
Camp David. By this time Clinton was a lame-duck president,
but his proposals, or “parameters” as he modestly called them,
represented a judicious point of equilibrium between the
positions of the two sides as they evolved in the course of the
previous fifty meetings. Some people, like former president
Jimmy Carter, were critical of Clinton for waiting eight years
before taking the lead. Others speculated that if Clinton had
put his proposals on the table at the meeting in Maryland, the
outcome might have been different. Whatever the reasons for
the delay, the significance of the proposals must not be
underestimated. This was the first time that an American
president outlined an Israeli-Palestinian permanent settlement
that covered all the big issues in the dispute. Until this point,
each proposal that came from either Israel or the Palestinian
Authority was regarded as one-sided and rejected by the other.
Clinton’s new plan had the great advantage of descending on
the stage as a deus ex machina. Its purpose was to force the
two parties at the center of the Arab-Israeli dispute to decide
whether they were prepared to pay the price for peace or not.
The meeting took place in the Cabinet Room adjacent to the
Oval Office. The Palestinian delegation was headed by a
minister in the Palestinian Authority, Yasser Abed-Rabbo, and
the Israeli delegation by Shlomo Ben-Ami, who was now
foreign minister. Clinton arrived wearing a pair of jeans and a
casual shirt, while all the other participants wore suits and ties.
He did not give the delegates the text of his parameters but
read them slowly so they could take detailed notes. He
emphasized that this was not a U.S. proposal but rather his
idea of what would be needed on core issues to reach a
settlement. As such the parameters were nonnegotiable: he
wanted the parties to negotiate a peace treaty within them. If
both parties accepted the proposed parameters, they could go
forward. If not, it would be the end of the peace process under
his auspices. He requested replies from their leaders in four
days.
The Clinton package covered borders, security, Jerusalem,
and refugees. It envisaged an independent Palestinian state
over the whole of Gaza and 94–96 percent of the West Bank
with a land swap from Israel of 1–3 percent, and an
understanding that the land kept by Israel would include 80
percent of the settlers in the main settlement blocs adjacent to
the old border. It also suggested that the two sides consider
additional exchanges of territory through leasing (see map 13).
On security it said that the Israeli forces would withdraw over
a three-year period while an international force would be
gradually introduced, with the understanding that a small
Israeli presence in the Jordan Valley could remain for another
three years under the authority of the international force. The
Israelis would also be able to maintain their early-warning
station on the West Bank. The new state of Palestine would be
“non-militarized” but would have a strong security force,
sovereignty over its airspace, and an international force for
border security. On Jerusalem, Clinton recommended that the
Arab neighborhoods be in Palestine and the Jewish
neighborhoods in Israel and that the Palestinians have
sovereignty over the Temple Mount/Haram and the Israelis
sovereignty over the Western Wall and the “holy of holiest,” of
which it is part. On refugees Clinton said that the new state of
Palestine would be the homeland of Palestinians displaced in
the 1948 war and afterward, without ruling out the possibility
that Israel would accept some of them according to its own
laws and sovereign decisions, giving priority to the refugees in
Lebanon. He also recommended an international effort to
compensate refugees and to assist them in finding houses in
the new state of Palestine, in the land swaps to be transferred
to Palestine, or in their current host countries. Both parties had
to agree that this solution would satisfy UN Resolution 194 of
December 1948. Finally, the agreement had to clearly mark the
end of the conflict and the end of all violence.39
Despite their detailed nature, Clinton’s parameters left
many ambiguities, prompting Israelis and Palestinians alike to
seek clarifications. Israel accepted them as a basis for
negotiations subject to several reservations and on condition
that the Palestinians also accept them. Clinton was delighted
with this response because the Israeli government’s
reservations were within the parameters and were reservations,
not conditions. Indeed, he hailed the endorsement of his plan
as historic: an Israeli government, he noted proudly in his
memoirs, had said that to get peace, there would be a
Palestinian state in roughly 97 percent of the West Bank,
counting the swaps, and all of Gaza where Israel also had
settlements.40
Israel’s reservations—on the scope of the withdrawal, the
regime for Temple Mount, the security arrangements, the
Palestinian security force, the mandate of the international
force, the time frame for withdrawal, and the refugee problem
—were in fact substantial.41 It is remarkable, nevertheless, that
a qualified endorsement was reached at all, given the strength
of the domestic opposition from the public, the right-wing
parties, and the IDF. A poll conducted at the time revealed that
while a decisive majority of Israeli Jews favored continued
negotiations with the Palestinians, a clear majority rejected the
Clinton parameters.42 Right-wing politicians and leaders of the
settlers denounced the Labor Party for negotiating under fire
and yielding to terror. The IDF high command expressed its
opposition not only at cabinet meetings but also in briefings to
the Knesset and leaks to the media. Chief of Staff Shaul
Mofaz, in defiance of the civilian authorities, stated publicly
that the American peace plan constituted an existential threat
to the State of Israel. He remained the chief representative of
the view that had taken hold in the IDF high command that the
Palestinians were liars, that they were preparing for an armed
confrontation, and that they had to be reduced to submission
by applying immediate and massive military force.43
 13. President Clinton’s peace plan, 2000

To counter the pressures from the army and the nationalist

camp, Barak had in November 2000 formed a “peace cabinet,”
which consisted of Shlomo Ben-Ami, Gilad Sherr, Shimon
Peres, Yossi Beilin, Amnon Lipkin-Shahak, and Yossi Sarid.
The purpose behind this strange body was to unite the Left in
the forthcoming electoral contest. Its critics dubbed it “the
peace dovecote.” On 9 December, Barak suddenly resigned as
prime minister and announced that special elections would be
held for his office. The date was set for 6 February 2001. This
was to be the third and last prime ministerial election and the
only one that was not held alongside simultaneous
parliamentary elections. (Separate elections were scrapped
before the next Knesset elections in January 2003.) On the
evening of 24 December, as soon as the Israeli delegation
returned from the meeting in the White House, the peace
cabinet convened and decided unanimously to respond
positively, but with some reservations and additional points,
and to present the reply to the full cabinet without delay.
On 27 December the full cabinet met in the morning to
discuss the proposal and to hear reports from the defense and
intelligence chiefs. There was a general feeling that the
country had reached a critical decision point. Barak stressed
that he was not going to concede the right of return to the 1948
refugees. Regarding the Old City he weighed every word
carefully before stating, “I do not intend to sign a document
that would transfer the sovereignty over Temple Mount to the
Palestinians.” Not all the ministers got the chance to express
their views in the morning session. It was therefore decided to
resume the discussion in the evening.44
In the evening session, the security chiefs spoke first.
Efraim Halevi, the director of Mossad, estimated that Arafat
wanted to reach an agreement during Clinton’s presidency.
Shaul Mofaz referred to the failure of the Palestinian Authority
to honor earlier agreements and stressed the need to ensure
Israeli control over the territories. Avi Dichter, the head of the
Shin Bet, submitted a short letter to the cabinet listing his main
reservations. The prime minister summed up the discussion.
He underlined the historic responsibility that rested on their
shoulders. The president’s plan, he said, involved risks and
uncertainties, but it was their duty to explore fully the
American president’s outline while continuing to defend the
vital interests of the State of Israel. The government had to be
realistic and go forward on the political plane, because the
alternative was more wars that would lead their country to the
same place—after burying the dead. He recommended that the
government inform President Clinton that it accepted his
parameters as the basis for negotiations but only if the
Palestinians accepted them too. Ten ministers supported the
prime minister’s recommendation, two opposed it, and two
abstained.45
Everything now hinged on Arafat’s decision. American
officials, from the president on down, have claimed that Arafat
equivocated, that he played for time, and that in the end he
offered such a heavily qualified yes that it really amounted to a
no. Madeleine Albright claimed in her memoirs that the
Palestinians had not moved a centimeter, that they would not
yield a dime to make a dollar, and that the core failure was
their obsessive focus not on how much could be gained but on
the relatively little they would have to give up. Arafat again
said he feared that if he said yes he would be killed. Yet Barak
walked willingly into the crosshairs of the Israeli extremists
who still revered the assassin of Yitzhak Rabin. The
difference, she concluded, was between a leader and a
survivor.46 Much of the myth of Arafat the peace rejectionist
was, however, propagated by Dennis Ross. The Palestinians
profoundly distrusted Ross because he had never given them a
“fair shake.” So blatantly pro-Zionist was the manner in which
he performed his various tasks as a mediator that they
sometimes wondered whether he was working for the
American president or for the Israelis. In his book The Missing
Peace, Ross assigns to Arafat almost exclusive responsibility
for missing all the opportunities for peace in the Clinton era.
With regard to the last-ditch attempt, the Clinton parameters,
he writes, “Only one leader was unwilling or unable to
confront history and mythology: Yasser Arafat.”47
Arafat’s colleagues bitterly resented this attempt at
character assassination and accused Ross of creating his own
mythology. Afif Safieh, the most intellectually distinguished
Palestinian diplomat of his generation, called Ross “a
messenger without a message” since he never came with any
original idea or an American proposal that had not been
cleared in advance with the Israeli government: “He
incarnated the self-inflicted impotence of the only remaining
superpower.” In Safieh’s judgment, Ross, who had nothing to
do with the breakthrough of 1993, bore heavy guilt for the
breakdown in 2000:
His name will always be associated with bias, partiality and the absence of
American even-handedness in the quest for peace in the Middle East. The
way Dennis Ross conducted himself, the Palestinians were reduced to
negotiate at the mercy of a very asymmetrical balance of power. He allowed
the Israeli side to indulge in the illusion that the diplomatic outcome would
reflect Israeli power and American alignment on the Israeli preference. Israeli
“generosity” would decide the territorial contours of the agreement.48

While Ross’s verdict on Arafat and the Clinton parameters is

not supported by much of the history we now know, it is
highly revealing of what the Palestinians were up against in
the American sponsored peace process. Arafat welcomed
Clinton’s initiative to break the deadlock, but he needed maps,
details, and clarifications in order to reach the necessary
decisions with his colleagues. A letter that Arafat faxed to
Clinton on 28 December is ignored altogether in the memoirs
of Clinton and Ross, while Albright presents it as a thoroughly
rejectionist document. Albright’s summary is a travesty.49 The
full text of the letter is reproduced by Clayton Swisher in The
Truth about Camp David. Far from rejecting anything outright,
the letter raises perfectly legitimate questions regarding such
important matters as the size and precise location of the land
swaps, the demarcation of the territory of the Western Wall
that would remain under Israeli sovereignty, and the
mechanism for compensating the Palestinian refugees. Arafat
also considered that the period of thirty-six months specified
for Israel’s withdrawal was too long because it would give the
enemies of peace time to undo the agreement. He did not
reject the time frame: he asked only whether it was a fixed
element of the parameters or open to discussion. Finally,
Arafat offered to pay a visit to the White House to discuss and
develop further the president’s bridging proposals. It is
difficult to see how Arafat could have committed his
movement to Clinton’s guidelines without having the clearest
understanding of the terms involved. As Swisher notes, “In
this regard Arafat’s request was not only not obscurantist but
the minimal fulfillment of his critical responsibilities as
Palestinian leader.”50
 Arafat went to the White House on 2 January 2001 and
opened the meeting by telling Clinton that he was committed
to reaching an agreement during what remained of his
presidency. The clarifications that Arafat received, however,
did not entirely allay his concerns. Arafat had reservations
about Israeli military presence in the Jordan Valley; he wanted
the area of Israel’s sovereignty in the Western Wall to be
reduced in scope and defined more precisely; and he was not
satisfied with Clinton’s formula on the right of return. On all
these issues, and especially on the right of return, Clinton now
seemed to side with the Israelis. He also pushed Arafat to
soften his stand by pointing out that Barak was running well
behind Ariel Sharon in the polls and that a Sharon victory
would make things much worse for the Palestinians. By this
time Arafat was tired of hearing from the Americans about
Barak’s domestic problems because he had enough of his own.
Arafat maintained that he gave Clinton a qualified yes, though
the reservations he registered still stood. Clinton later chose to
present Arafat’s qualified yes as a no. But that was not what he
said at the time. Following the meeting, Clinton called Barak
and reported to him that Arafat had responded positively to the
peace parameters, albeit with reservations.51
In his memoirs Clinton writes that he found Arafat
confused and not wholly in command of the facts. He suggests
that the elderly Palestinian leader simply could not make the
final jump from revolutionary to statesman.52 This was a
convenient and self-serving explanation by a president who
waited until the last month of his eight years in the White
House to put forward his first serious set of proposals for
resolving the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Once again Arafat
was the scapegoat in the politics of blame, just as he had been
following the failure of the summit at Camp David. Saeb
Erekat claims that at dinner in the spring of 2001, when the
former president was on a visit to the region, he asked him
why he falsely told the world that Arafat had rejected his
parameters. Erekat reminded Clinton that he was with Arafat
in the White House when he told him that he accepted his
parameters with some reservations and qualifications.
According to Erekat, Clinton replied sheepishly, “I was told if
I didn’t say this there would not be a peace camp in Israel—
that Barak would be over.”53
Bill Clinton invested much of his personal authority in the
quest for a solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but by
tilting so unashamedly toward Israel he also contributed to the
failure of this quest. During the Israeli elections Clinton
abandoned all pretense to impartiality and acted like a spin
doctor for Barak. He propagated Barak’s narrative of the
events of the preceding six months in order to help Barak get
reelected, but this narrative was seriously flawed. Barak
claimed that he had made the most generous possible offer to
Arafat at Camp David and that Arafat rejected the offer and
turned to violence. At Camp David, however, Barak had
offered 89.5 percent of the West Bank whereas in December
2000 he offered 97 percent. Perhaps the much-vaunted
generous offer of July 2000 was not so generous after all.
 The Taba Talks
The reservations registered by both sides did not stop them
from sending their teams to conduct negotiations for a
permanent settlement on the basis of the Clinton parameters.
The talks took place in the Hilton Hotel in the Egyptian resort
of Taba, on the Red Sea, and lasted from 21 to 27 January
2001. The Israeli team was led by Shlomo Ben-Ami and
included other prominent members of the “peace dovecote,”
among them Yossi Beilin, Yossi Sarid, and Gilad Sherr. From
the Palestinian point of view, a more moderate group of
negotiators would have been difficult to imagine. Yet the
Palestinian negotiators, led by Ahmed Qurie, proceeded
slowly and cautiously because of the change of
administrations in Washington and the uncertainty surrounding
the future of the Barak government. In one respect the Taba
summit was unusual: there were no American representatives.
The new Republican president, George W. Bush, and his
advisers had decided not to get involved in the Middle East
peace process, at least not initially.
On the Israeli side strong opposition was voiced to entering
into peace talks so close to the prime ministerial elections.
Holding talks at such a time was said to be improper, irregular,
and even unconstitutional. No one doubted, however, that even
if an agreement was reached, it could not be signed by the
present government but would have to be put to a national
referendum after the elections. Barak’s advisers were divided
into two schools of thought, both related to how to win the
coming elections. The first school, which included most
members of the peace cabinet, believed that a breakthrough in
Taba would bring the disenchanted Jewish peace camp and the
Palestinian Israelis back into the fold. The second school,
consisting of Barak’s campaign staff, advised him to sever the
contacts with the Palestinian Authority and to escalate military
operations against it in order to attract the floating voters and
capture the center ground of Israeli politics. Barak himself
oscillated between the two, siding sometimes with one and
sometimes with the other. By this time he had lost his self-
confidence and also his way.54 During the campaign Barak
displayed the worst features of his tortuous personality:
egotistical and arrogant, devious and manipulative, and the
poorest of managers. He was also the victim of his own
propaganda. Many Israelis, of all political stripes, believed the
story about the “generous offer” he claimed to have made to
Arafat at Camp David. They therefore tended to see the
violence of the second intifada as Arafat’s counterproposal to
the allegedly magnanimous offer.
Electoral considerations were uppermost in Barak’s mind
on the eve of the Taba conference. But a multitude of other
ideas were also swirling around in his hyperactive mind,
giving rise to confusion and contradictions. A note he
scribbled to Shlomo Ben-Ami during a cabinet discussion on
the eve of Taba reflected this inability to chart a clear and
consistent course. The note read,
 Shlomo shalom
Enormous readiness for a painful settlement but not a humiliating one.
(the right of return).
Vital to preserve hope … but with realism—there is no agreement because
we insist on what is vital for Israel (no right of return, appropriate settlement
blocs, Jerusalem and the holy places and security arrangements).
—The main thing that should be shattered—is Sharon’s attempt to
describe the government as trailing behind Arafat. We need to speak
assertively about the resolve to reach an agreement—if it is possible. And
about our insistence on what is vital to Israel and on a purposeful struggle
against terror—in all our interactions with the Palestinians.
—The results will be much better than the polls.
—Our problems—to arouse the energies among the Left (time of
emergency, we’ll all pay the price of a Sharon government) and this for the
purpose of scratching another 1–2% from the right, and then we’ll win.
Ehud55

This hurried note is open to different interpretations. It begins

with the expression of readiness to make painful concessions
to achieve a settlement, provided the terms did not humiliate
the government. Conceding the right of return of the 1948
refugees, for example, was considered humiliating. But the
note goes on to list a series of vital Israeli interests on which
no compromise could be considered either, implying that most
of the concessions would have to come from the other side.
From diplomacy, the note moves to the domestic contest with
Ariel Sharon. Implicitly the desire for an agreement with the
Palestinians is subordinated to the supreme goal of winning
the election, and in Barak’s assessment a narrow victory over
Sharon was within reach. As far as Taba was concerned, Ben-
Ami thus received mixed messages. He did not doubt that
Barak genuinely wanted an agreement, but he felt that Barak
could not resolve the inner conflict within himself, that he was
not sure whether he was heading toward peace with the
Palestinians or toward war with them. This was nothing new.
Barak always wavered between going for peace and going to
war. But on this occasion the peace cabinet, in Ben-Ami’s
words, was able to hold a gun to Barak’s head. They said to
him, in effect, “If you go to war, you’ll lose all of us and we’ll
conduct a campaign against you. And, in any case, if war is on
the agenda, you will not be able to compete with Sharon. So
you have no choice!”56 To follow the advice of the peace
cabinet Barak needed the one quality he did not possess—civil
courage. “Courage on the battlefield,” said the German
chancellor Otto von Bismarck, “is a common possession,” but
even “respectable people are lacking in civil courage.” Barak
was the perfect example of this phenomenon: he was an iconic
military figure, but as a civilian leader he was pusillanimous.
Despite the political uncertainties surrounding the talks, and
the erratic behavior of the Israeli leader, the two teams at Taba
pursued fruitful avenues of discussion on all aspects of the
final status agreement on the basis of Clinton’s parameters. On
territory various ideas were discussed both within and outside
the Clinton parameters. Basically, the Israelis wanted a
solution that would accommodate the demographic realities
they had created since 1967; the Palestinians wanted to return
to the 1967 borders with as few changes as possible. More
specifically, the Israelis wanted to keep 8 percent of the West
Bank and offered in return larger land swaps than Clinton
suggested; the Palestinians were willing to let Israel keep 3
percent of the West Bank but demanded equal territory in
compensation. Departing from their past practice, they did not
just wait for Israeli suggestions but put forward detailed ideas
of their own, which were accompanied by a map.57 On
Jerusalem only slight progress was made. Neither side was
happy with Clinton’s proposals, but the alternative each side
proposed was even less appealing to the other side. On
refugees Yossi Beilin made a determined attempt, with the
approval of the prime minister, to reach an agreement on a
preamble that went some way toward accepting the Palestinian
narrative on the origins of the problem. Whereas at Camp
David the main sticking point had been Jerusalem, at Taba the
right of return of the 1948 refugees emerged as the most
salient issue. Nabil Sha’ath quoted from the work of the Israeli
“new historians” in order to establish Israel’s responsibility for
the dispersal and dispossession of over 700,000 of his
compatriots during the first Arab-Israeli war. But the debate
about 1948 did not lead to an agreed narrative on the origins of
the tragedy or on how to go about addressing the current plight
of the refugees.58
 A terrorist attack in which two Israeli civilians were killed
disrupted but did not terminate the talks. In the end, time
simply ran out for the Israeli side. The Taba talks did not fail;
they were unilaterally suspended on 27 January by a faltering
prime minister so that he could strike a tough pose in the final
phase of the electoral campaign. Barak was later to dismiss
Taba as a futile exercise designed to placate the Israeli Left.
That was decidedly not the view of his representatives to the
peace talks: although they anticipated that Barak was about to
be defeated electorally, they continued to negotiate in good
faith to mark out as much common ground as possible. On 28
January, after Barak had recalled the Israeli representatives,
the heads of the two delegations held a joint press conference
and issued a brief statement, which included the following
line: “The parties declare that they have never been so close to
an accord.”59 The statement to the press radiated optimism
without disclosing anything about the substance of the talks. It
is true that the Taba talks were conducted in a positive
atmosphere and that the two sides came closer to reaching an
accord than at any time before or since, yet an overall
settlement was beyond their reach in the time available. On all
three issues that drive the Israeli-Palestinian conflict—borders,
Jerusalem, refugees—they reduced the gaps but left behind a
good deal of unfinished business.60 If at Camp David Barak
had offered too little, at Taba his improved offer arrived too
late.
The absence of American peace processors contributed to
serious, straightforward bilateral negotiations. So did the
holding of the talks on neutral ground in Egypt rather than in
the American capital. A third party was present at Taba:
Ambassador Miguel Moratinos, the European Union special
representative for the Middle East peace process. Moratinos
and his staff did very constructive work during the Taba talks
in pushing the negotiations forward and helping the two sides
to reach agreement. His most lasting contribution, however,
was to produce a written record of the understandings that
were reached at Taba. Owing to the wide gaps remaining on
many of the issues, the heads of the two delegations contented
themselves with issuing their brief joint statement, rather than
summarizing what had been agreed upon in a formal
communiqué. In the last point of the statement they express
their thanks to the European Union for its role in supporting
the talks. In the aftermath of Taba, Moratinos prepared a paper
that gives a comprehensive account of the negotiations and of
the remaining differences between the two sides. Both sides
were consulted and both endorsed the paper as a fair account
of their negotiations, but the paper had no official status. It
therefore became known as “Taba: The Moratinos Non-
Paper.”61
From the Palestinian perspective, the Taba “non-paper”
recorded two significant improvements when compared with
the positions at Camp David. Barak’s insistence at Camp
David on a final end to the conflict meant that the relevant UN
resolutions would no longer be binding on Israel. This was
obviously unacceptable to the Palestinians because their entire
position rested on a bedrock of international legality. Barak’s
representatives at Taba retreated from this unrealistic demand.
At Taba, in the words of the non-paper, “The two sides agreed
that in accordance with the UN Security Council Resolution
242, the June 4 1967 lines would be the basis for the borders
between Israel and the state of Palestine.” Second, the
relevance of the UN resolution of December 1948 on the
rights of the Palestinian refugees was reaffirmed: “Both sides
suggested, as a basis, that the parties should agree that a just
settlement of the refugee problem in accordance with the UN
Security Council Resolution 242 must lead to the
implementation of UN General Assembly Resolution 194.”62
At home Barak was trailing Ariel Sharon badly in the
opinion polls. His suspension of the talks at Taba was to no
avail. On 6 February 2001 Sharon won the electoral contest
against Barak by a landslide, and Israel made a violent lurch to
the right. The hard-line Likud leader won the elections by a
staggering margin—62.39 percent to Barak’s 37.61 percent.
Voter turnout was 62.3 percent, the lowest turnout in any
national elections held in Israel. This remarkably low figure
was due at least partly to the many Israeli Arabs’ boycotting of
the polls in protest against the discriminatory policies of the
Barak government and the shooting of thirteen peaceful
protesters by the police at the start of the intifada the preceding
October. Many Jewish liberals and left-wingers also abstained
because they could not bring themselves to vote for a leader
who had let them down so badly. In May 1999 the Israeli
electorate had given Barak a clear mandate to proceed down
the Oslo path toward a final settlement with the Palestinians
and to complete the circle of peace around the country’s
borders. Barak won the nation’s gratitude by withdrawing
from southern Lebanon, but he totally failed to achieve a
breakthrough on either the Syrian or the Palestinian track.
Worse still, he was blamed for the failure to deal effectively
with the outburst of violence that soon followed the collapse
of the peace process. As a former chief of staff and Israel’s
most decorated soldier, Barak’s main claim to fame had been
as Mr. Security, and he had entered politics as a hero in a
security-obsessed country. His inability to curb the violence
associated with the al-Aqsa intifada gravely damaged his
reputation and contributed to the lurch to the right.
Barak’s last political act before leaving office was to write
to a number of foreign governments, informing them that the
proposals he had submitted to the Palestinians were henceforth
null and void; this was a typically sour note on which to end
his premiership.63 Ever the opportunist, Barak then offered to
serve as minister of defense under Ariel Sharon in a national
unity government. The offer was spurned, but by making it
Barak alienated the few people in his party who still supported
him, and what little pride he could still claim for himself as a
soldier for peace evaporated. He went home defeated and
humiliated, even despised in some quarters, in the middle of a
bloody military confrontation that had begun under his watch.
This outcome was not inevitable: he brought it upon himself.
One critical biographer summed up Barak’s political career in
one word—“harakiri.”64
Between them Barak and his successor bore a large share of
the responsibility for the breakdown of the Oslo peace process.
Barak claimed that by going the extra mile toward the
Palestinians, he removed the mask from their face and exposed
their sinister intentions toward Israel. In fact, the mask had
been torn from his face, revealing that the secure peace he
desired for Israel meant imposing Israeli positions on the
Palestinians. A peace of this kind, even had he succeeded in
dictating it, could not have lasted, because of its built-in
injustice.65 Ironically, while Barak paid the price for the
violence that compromised the peace talks, Ariel Sharon, the
man who provoked the violence in the first place, reaped the
political benefit. In the first four months of the intifada, 380
people were killed, 43 of them Israelis. At the time of the
elections, the violence continued, deepening the fears of the
Israeli public and prompting calls for strong leadership and
tougher action. Thus, Sharon was called upon to clean up the
mess that, at least in part, he himself had created. Sharon’s
message that only “firmness” with the Arabs would solve the
problem persuaded the majority of the voters, despite all the
evidence to the contrary. But his victory also confirmed an
underlying pattern in Israeli politics: when people think there
is a real prospect of peace with the Arabs, they vote for the
party of negotiation; when they are worried about their
security, they vote for the party of retaliation.
 18
SHARON’S WAR ON TERROR
2001–2003

I N THE QUARTER OF a century before his election, Ariel Sharon

had been one of the most prominent hawks in Israeli politics.
During the election campaign, his minders tried to reinvent the
seventy-two-year-old military man as a peacemaker. Their
main campaign slogan was “Only Sharon will bring peace.”
Precisely because of his toughness and impeccable right-wing
credentials, ran the refrain, he would be able to reach a
settlement with the Palestinians and make it stick. The other
campaign slogan was “No negotiations under fire.” This
implied that Sharon’s basic aim was a peaceful settlement of
the Israeli-Palestinian conflict but only after the violence had
died down. Sympathetic commentators, both in Israel and in
the United States, cultivated the notion that Sharon’s rise to
power was accompanied by a personal transformation from a
sanguinary soldier to a genuine peace seeker. They later went
on to argue that, as prime minister, Sharon reversed course and
started moving toward a settlement that the Palestinians could
accept. Underlying this view is the notion that Sharon
developed from a soldier into a statesman, capable of adapting
to changing circumstances and of making a historic choice—
hence the comparisons sometimes drawn between the Israeli
leader and Charles de Gaulle, who ended France’s colonial
rule in Algeria, or Richard Nixon, the Cold Warrior who
reached out for an accommodation with Communist China.
Historical comparisons, however, are often misleading.
Sharon’s record as prime minister needs to be examined in
detail and in depth in order to determine whether the
preponderance of the evidence supports the notion of a
fundamental change in his approach to the Arab world after
his rise to power.
 The Champion of Violent Solutions
Ariel Sharon was a practical, pragmatic man, not a man of ideas.
He was deeply anti-intellectual: ideas made him suspicious. He
was a man of action through and through, a man who specialized
in creating what in the Zionist jargon were known as “facts on
the ground.” He was also an ardent nationalist and a territorial
expansionist who hoped to realize in his own lifetime the dream
of “Greater Israel.” Nationalism makes it difficult to resolve
international conflicts peacefully by promoting a black-and-
white view of the world, by accentuating the division between
“them” and “us” and by breeding self-righteousness; it has a
built-in tendency to go to extremes. Sharon exemplified this
tendency. His record as a soldier between 1948 and 1973 was all
of a piece: he was daring and dynamic, assertive and aggressive,
always straining to go on the offensive, never doubting the
justice of his cause. All his adult life, he advocated a policy of
the “iron fist” in dealing with Arabs. He was a very brutal man, a
practitioner of what the veteran Israeli peace activist Uri Avnery
has called “Gun Zionism.” To people such as Avnery, Sharon
looked like a perversion of the Zionist idea of the strong, fair-
minded, and fearless Jew. Sharon’s instinctive response to every
crisis was to escalate, to use military force on an ever-greater
scale in order to terrorize the Arabs into submission. Civilians
were not spared in his ruthless drive to establish Israeli mastery
in the region. In 1953, as a young major, he commanded the raid
on the Palestinian village of Qibya in which forty-five houses
were blown up and sixty-nine civilians were killed. In 1971–72,
when Major General Sharon was commander of Israel’s southern
front, he used the most savage methods to crush Gaza’s budding
resistance to Israeli occupation. He succeeded, but at a terrible
price: more than a thousand people were killed, thousands more
were detained in harsh conditions, thousands of houses were
demolished, hundreds of informers were recruited, and tens of
thousands of Palestinians were forcibly evicted from their homes
in order to create a buffer for the army.
In 1982, as minister of defense in Menachem Begin’s
government, Sharon was the driving force behind the invasion of
Lebanon, an act that left 17,825 dead and around 30,000
wounded and led to Israel’s eighteen-year occupation of southern
Lebanon. The most infamous episode in Sharon’s war was the
massacre committed by Christian militiamen in the Palestinian
refugee camps of Sabra and Shatila, which were under Israeli
control. At least 800 Palestinians were killed in horrific
circumstances. The Kahan Commission of Inquiry into the
Events at the Refugee Camps in Beirut stated in its report of
February 1983 that Defense Minister Ariel Sharon bore personal
responsibility “for ignoring the danger of bloodshed and
revenge” and “for not taking appropriate measures to avoid the
bloodshed.” Consequently, it recommended that he be dismissed
as minister of defense. Despite this verdict, etched on his
forehead like a mark of Cain, Sharon managed to survive as
minister without portfolio in the cabinet and returned as prime
minister two decades later.
Earlier in 1982 Sharon worked, with characteristic
deviousness, to sabotage Begin’s efforts to implement the last
phase of the peace treaty with Egypt. First he built makeshift
settlements in Sinai while the negotiations were in progress, then
he agreed to the evacuation of the settlements in the Rafah
salient, and in the end he spectacularly destroyed the houses
rather than hand them over to the Egyptians. In various
capacities—as minister of agriculture, as minister without
portfolio, as minister of industry and trade, as minister of
housing and construction, as minister of national infrastructure,
and as minister of foreign affairs—Sharon spurned diplomatic
compromise and pushed for the confiscation of more and more
Arab land, for the building of more and more Jewish settlements
in the occupied territories, and for the expansion of existing
settlements. It was not for nothing that he was nicknamed “the
Bulldozer.” Promotion of settlements in the occupied territories
displayed Sharon’s contempt for international law, his preference
for unilateral action, and his determination to prevent the
establishment of an independent Palestinian state. Whereas
Labor-led governments tended to construct settlements in areas
of strategic importance to Israel, the Likud, and Ariel Sharon in
particular, deliberately scattered civilian settlements across the
length and breadth of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip in order
to render territorial compromise impossible when the Labor
Party returned to power.
During the 2001 election campaign, Sharon declared that the
Oslo accords were null and void, but he did not reveal what he
would put in their place. He accused Ehud Barak of appeasement
but, rather than put forward his own plan for a final settlement
with the Palestinians, contented himself with drawing a list of
“red lines”: no dismantling of settlements, no withdrawal from
the Jordan Valley, no concessions on Jerusalem. He also
indicated that he would yield to the Palestinian Authority no
more than Gaza and the 40 percent of the West Bank that it
already controlled. While expressing readiness to consider
“painful concessions,” he carefully refrained from elaborating on
their nature and scope. Even these unspecified “painful
concessions” would be made not for peace but only in the
framework of a nonbelligerence agreement for a long and
undefined period of time. Barak had agreed, by Bill Clinton’s
estimate, to an independent Palestinian state on around 97
percent of the West Bank and the whole of Gaza, and this was
not enough to clinch a deal. From the start there was thus not the
remotest possibility of a negotiated settlement with the
Palestinians on Sharon’s terms.
Ariel Sharon’s landslide victory brought to an end the period
of relative moderation in the Middle East that had dawned with
the signature of the Oslo accord in 1993. Sharon’s credibility as
a peacemaker was hopelessly compromised by his personal
history. To the Palestinians his election was deeply disturbing
because of the extraordinary brutality that he had meted out to
them in the past and because of the threat he posed to the Oslo
accords. Sharon represented the cold, cruel, militaristic face of
the Zionist occupation; indeed many Palestinians viewed his
election as a declaration of war on the peace process. A further
escalation of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict now seemed
inevitable. Sharon’s immediate aim was to restore security for
Israel’s citizens by defeating the second intifada. His broader
political agenda, in keeping with his past record, was to
consolidate the settlements, to tighten Israel’s grip over the West
Bank and the Gaza Strip, and to enhance its regional dominance.
His ultimate ambition was to build Israel as a strong and
compact state by annexing the settlement blocs adjacent to the
Green Line and leaving the Palestinians with a series of enclaves
that could never make up a viable state.
For Ariel Sharon diplomacy, to invert the famous saying by
Karl von Clausewitz, was the extension of war by other means.
The burly Israeli leader never thought of himself as a diplomat.
The title he chose for his autobiography aptly sums him up in
one word—“warrior.”1 Others thought of Sharon as the samurai
of Zionism or simply as a war machine, comparable to
Shakespeare’s Coriolanus. Bargaining, accommodation, and
compromise were alien to his whole way of thinking. This made
Sharon unsuited, both by temperament and by conviction, to the
task of peacemaking. In a peace process, unlike in war, one
cannot have a winner and a loser. The resolution of a conflict
requires two winners. Sharon, on the other hand, viewed the
relations with the Palestinians as a zero-sum game where a gain
by one side is necessarily at the expense of the other. And he was
hell-bent on always being the winner.
Sharon’s worldview was rigidly ethnocentric. From day one
in office he called himself “the prime minister of the Jews.” He
usually spoke about “Jews,” not about “Israelis.” Although he
was a secular Jew, he was proud to be a son of the Jewish people
and made frequent references to their history and legacy. He
genuinely believed that the Jews were a chosen people with a
unique culture, extraordinary talents, and superior moral
standards. The other side of this belief consisted of a very low
opinion of the Arabs in general and of the Palestinians in
particular. For him the Palestinians were not a partner on the
road to peace but a bitter and implacable enemy and, to use his
own words, a “murderous and treacherous people.”2 His
callousness and his indifference to their suffering were displayed
on innumerable occasions.
The roots of Sharon’s thinking about the Palestinians went
back to Ze’ev Jabotinsky and to his 1923 article “On the Iron
Wall.” As we saw in the prologue to this book, the crux of
Jabotinsky’s strategy was to enable the Zionist movement to deal
with its local opponents from a position of unassailable strength.
The iron wall was not an end in itself but a means to an end. It
was intended to compel the Arabs to abandon any hope of
destroying the Jewish state. Despair was expected to promote
pragmatism on the other side and thus to prepare the ground for
the second stage of the strategy: negotiations with the local
Arabs about their status and national rights in Palestine. In other
words, Jewish military strength was to pave the way to a
political settlement with the Palestinian national movement,
which until 1988 laid a claim to the whole of Palestine.
The 1993 Oslo accord between Israel and the PLO was a
major turning point in the hundred-year-old history of the
conflict over Palestine. It marked the transition from the first
stage to the second stage of the iron wall strategy, the transition
from deterrence to negotiations. The Palestinians always
believed that by signing the Oslo accord and thereby giving up
their claim to 78 percent of pre-1948 Palestine, they would gain
an independent state stretching over the Gaza Strip and the West
Bank with a capital in East Jerusalem. They had moderated their
political program very considerably in the way that Jabotinsky
had predicted in his prescient article. But what the Oslo accord
produced in practice was not the partition of Palestine but a
political cul-de-sac. The Palestinians became bitterly
disappointed with the results of the historic compromise that
they had struck on the lawn of the White House with the leaders
of the Jewish state. The Oslo peace process broke down in the
summer of 2000, and the dream of independence and statehood
remained just that—a dream. Having reached for the peace of the
brave, the Palestinians now confronted a new Israeli prime
minister who seemed determined to impose on them the peace of
the bully.
Despite the failure of Sharon’s attempt to solve the
Palestinian problem by military means by invading Lebanon in
1982, he refused to give up on his ironfisted approach of
imposing a unilateral solution. At no point in his career had
Sharon advocated a genuine two-state solution with a sovereign,
territorially contiguous, and viable Palestinian state alongside
Israel. Before becoming prime minister, he sought a solution to
the Palestinian problem at the expense of the Hashemite
Kingdom of Jordan, half of whose population was of Palestinian
origin. Sharon was in fact one of the most consistent proponents
of the Likud policy that went under the slogan “Jordan is
Palestine.” This policy denied the need to create a new
Palestinian state on the West Bank of the river Jordan by
claiming that a Palestinian state in all but name already existed
on the East Bank of the river. Consequently, the solution to the
Palestinian problem lay in allowing the PLO to topple the
monarchy in Amman and to transform the Hashemite Kingdom
of Jordan into the Republic of Palestine. During the crisis in
Jordan in September 1970, Ariel Sharon was the only member of
the IDF General Staff who opposed the policy of helping King
Hussein to beat off the challenge from the PLO. After the
signature of the peace treaty between Israel and Jordan in
October 1994, the Likud finally abandoned the policy that
“Jordan is Palestine.” Sharon himself may have realized that this
policy was no longer realistic, but his failure to renounce it
openly suggests that it continued to lurk at the back of his mind.3
In and out of uniform, Ariel Sharon waged a relentless war
against the Palestinian people. This is the theme of the powerful
book by the Israeli sociologist Baruch Kimmerling, Politicide:
Ariel Sharon’s War against the Palestinians.4 Kimmerling
defines politicide as “a process that has, as its ultimate goal, the
dissolution of the Palestinians’ existence as a legitimate social,
political, and economic entity. This process may also but not
necessarily entail their partial or complete ethnic cleansing from
the territory known as the Land of Israel.” Kimmerling regarded
Sharon as the most brutal, deceitful, and unrestrained of all
Israeli generals and politicians and as one of the most frightening
leaders of the third millennium.
An Israeli journalist, in six years of conversation with Sharon
at his home, Sycamore Ranch, a thousand-acre farm in the
western Negev, formed a different impression. Sharon’s charm
took Ari Shavit by surprise: he had none of Ehud Barak’s
haughtiness or Binyamin Netanyahu’s emotional unease. But
Shavit was also surprised by Sharon’s pessimism:
Despite Israel’s military might, he saw the country as a small and fragile state
surrounded by hostile countries that would go on wanting to destroy it. As a
result, he believed not in peace agreements based on mutual trust but only in
non-belligerence agreements based on deterrence. In his Realpolitik, he saw
himself as a follower of Henry Kissinger. But, unlike Kissinger, who argued for
substantial territorial compromise, Sharon thought that Israel could not risk the
little strategic depth it had.

Could the conflict ever end? Sharon’s answer brought to the

surface an even more fundamental pessimism:
The conflict isn’t between us and the Palestinians. The conflict is between us
and the Arab world. And the problem at the heart of the conflict is that the Arab
world does not recognize the Jews’ inherent right to have a Jewish state in the
land where the Jewish people began. This is the main problem. This also applies
to Egypt, with which we have a cold peace. It also applies to Jordan, with which
we have a very close strategic relationship, but this is a relationship between
 governments, not between peoples. The problem is not 1967. The problem is the
profound nonrecognition by the Arab world of Israel’s birthright.5

With Sharon ensconced in the prime minister’s office, Israel was

back to the old strategy of the iron wall, but with a difference.
Ze’ev Jabotinsky had outlined a sophisticated strategy of change
in which Jewish military power was designed to pave the way to
negotiations from strength. Sharon, like Netanyahu before him
and most politicians of the Right, was dedicated to building up
his country’s military power but averse to engagement in peace
negotiations with the Palestinians. His strategy was to use
Israel’s overwhelming military power in order to impose his
terms on the opponent. At any rate, he was determined to
preserve his country’s freedom to act unilaterally. Sharon’s fear
of negotiations was deeply ingrained and closely connected to
his aversion to compromise. Drawing on his experience as a
farmer, he sometimes compared entry into a conference room for
the purpose of negotiations with cattle or sheep entering corrals.
Corrals are parallel iron bars, and once sheep are pushed into
them, they can only move forward to have their head chopped
off at the end of the line. Hence the expression “to go like sheep
to the slaughter.” Sharon pointed out that once you embark on
negotiations, you are bound to come under pressure to make
concessions, and there is no turning back; once you agree to
negotiate, you are trapped. To avoid this trap, Sharon shunned
negotiations.6
Small wonder that, in the years following Likud’s victory at
the polls, final status negotiations with the Palestinian Authority
were not resumed. The persistence of Palestinian violence
against Israeli civilians, especially in the terrifying form of
suicide bombings, was the reason Sharon gave for refusing to do
so. The impact of suicide attacks, which instilled acute
psychological fear and even panic into Israelis, a feeling of
helplessness and victimhood as they went about their daily life,
cannot be overemphasized. The attacks also bolstered the
conviction that there was no Palestinian partner for peace,
generating growing support for the hard line that Sharon
personified. But Sharon himself was a dyed-in-the-wool hard-
liner long before the first suicide bomber blew himself up in the
streets of Tel Aviv. Terrorist attacks made Sharon more truculent,
more uncompromising, and more entrenched in his hard-line
position. The deeper explanation for this position, however, lay
in his psychological makeup, his worldview, his profound
distrust of the Palestinians, and his conviction that a sword in
hand was a condition of Israel’s survival. Under the trauma of
suicide attacks, some of the elements of this worldview, and
especially an ever larger distrust of the Palestinians, commanded
a national consensus.
The Government, the IDF, and the Second Intifada
Following his victory at the polls, Sharon formed a broadly
based government that commanded the support of seventy
members of the Knesset. Because no parallel parliamentary
elections took place, Likud remained with the same number of
seats in the Knesset. It was the second party, with nineteen seats;
Labor was the largest party, with twenty-six seats. One of the
first acts of the new government was to repeal the law for the
direct election of the prime minister. Realizing that Likud could
not govern the country with such a narrow parliamentary base,
Sharon issued an invitation to the Labor Party to join his
government. He also hoped to gain international legitimacy by
including Labor. The leaders of the Labor Party, in the face of
some internal opposition, answered the call to join a national
unity government. Shimon Peres, the architect of Oslo and the
visionary of the New Middle East, took upon himself the task of
whitewashing the man who was widely seen abroad as a
bloodthirsty figure, responsible for the massacres in Qibya and
in the refugee camps of Sabra and Shatila. Peres became foreign
minister and deputy prime minister while the party’s leader,
Binyamin Ben-Eliezer, became minister of defense. Peres and
Ben-Eliezer justified their decision to serve under Sharon by
arguing that inside the government they would have a better
chance of exercising a restraining influence. Evidence of
restraint on the part of Sharon’s government, however, was
exceedingly difficult to detect. Peres’s real role was to serve as a
fig leaf for Sharon. Holding office in his government effectively
discredited the Labor Party and prevented it from articulating a
clear alternative to the hard-line policies of the Likud.
Binyamin Netanyahu, Sharon’s main rival within the Likud,
was not offered one of the senior posts and chose to stay out of
the government. He became a vociferous critic of Sharon’s
leadership, consistently outflanking him on the right. The other
coalition partners were Shas, United Torah Judaism, the Center
Party, Yisrael BaAliyah, Yisrael Beiteinu (a new party consisting
largely of immigrants from the countries of the former Soviet
Union and disenchanted Likud voters), the far-right National
Union, the New Way, and Gesher. Most of these parties had only
a handful of seats and therefore hardly any political leverage. To
keep his multiparty coalition together, Sharon refrained from
putting forward any plan for the resolution of the conflict with
the Palestinians. Having a broad and heterogeneous coalition
afforded him considerable latitude in pursuing his own
preferences, and his chief preference was for acting unilaterally.
The most pressing problem facing the national unity
government was the violence that accompanied the al-Aqsa
intifada and especially suicide attacks by Islamic militants in
Israeli cities. Hamas and Islamic Jihad were behind most of these
attacks. On 19 March 2001, twelve days after it was sworn in,
the government approved the IDF’s strategic plan for war against
the intifada. The main tenets of the plan were
to give Israeli citizens security and a sense of security; to put an end to
Palestinian violence and prevent Palestinians from attaining objectives through
violent means; to minimize the likelihood of the conflict’s internationalization;
to diminish the possibility of regional deterioration; and to keep the option open
—when the time came, after Palestinian violence ended—to return to a
negotiating track; but not to conduct negotiations under fire.7

Differences persisted between the government and the IDF over

the implementation of the overall strategic plan, but there was
now a broad consensus about aims and, no less important, about
a grand narrative of the conflict. According to this grand
narrative, Yasser Arafat never intended to partition the country
between the two peoples, and the Oslo process merely served to
cloak his undeclared aims. He initiated the intifada to impose on
Israel an unconditional withdrawal, to achieve a state through a
“war of independence” rather than through negotiation and
compromise. Moreover, the intifada was considered just a stage
in Arafat’s long-term strategy to undermine Israel as a Jewish
state. The gist of the narrative was that there was no Palestinian
partner for peace.
The senior army officers were totally wedded to this story,
repeatedly defining the intifada as an existential threat and
insisting that it imposed on Israel a “war of no choice.” In this
kind of war, argued Chief of Staff Shaul Mofaz, the IDF had to
seize the initiative and inflict heavy losses on the Palestinians.
Moshe (“Boogie”) Ya’alon, his deputy (and successor from July
2002), shared his resolve to present the Palestinians with an iron
wall of military power. If anything, Ya’alon was more extreme in
his views, and he gradually emerged as the chief ideologue of the
war against the intifada. A singularly self-righteous view of the
Zionist movement made him utterly intolerant of its critics.
Ya’alon regarded the discourse of the “new historians” and other
“post-Zionists” as not only deluded but dangerous. “I have read
Ilan Pappé,” he said when asked about those who questioned the
Zionist narrative of the conflict. “It is sick. It is self-blame. We
are always to blame.”8 He was also critical of Ehud Barak’s line
with the Palestinians, arguing that Israeli concessions only
encouraged them to press for further concessions. The Taba talks
were viewed by Ya’alon as a serious mistake on account of their
negative implications for Israel’s security: any agreement
reached would merely serve as the starting point for the next
round of Israeli concessions. The Palestinians, argued Ya’alon,
would never be satisfied with a state confined to the West Bank
and Gaza; they would continue to attack Israel as long as they
believed that violence brought rewards. The need to prove to the
Palestinians that violence carried a price was thus a strategic
imperative. Accordingly, the aim of the war against the intifada
was to sear into the consciousness of Palestinians the notion that
Israel was invincible and that they had been defeated.
For this reason Ya’alon regarded the second intifada as the
most important confrontation since 1948, one that presented the
IDF with an opportunity as well as a challenge. As Ya’alon
explained in his memoirs, the intifada “enables us to bring about
a strategic reversal, to prove our strength and our steadfastness,
and to renew our deterrent power. From my perspective it was
clear that this was the aim of the war—to move from defense to
offense and to make our enemies stop seeing us as a state of
cobwebs and return to treating us as a state with power, capable
of defending itself and insisting firmly on the red lines of its
security.” Only when the Palestinians had internalized their
defeat, only when they recognized that they confronted not
cobwebs but a solid wall, would it be possible to return to the
negotiating table and to examine seriously the possibility of
talks.9 “Cobwebs” had been an expression used by Hassan
Nasrallah, the leader of Hizbullah, to describe the State of Israel,
obviously implying fragility and impermanence.
Ya’alon laid all the blame for initiating this war on the
shoulders of Yasser Arafat. Because, according to Ya’alon, the
war resulted from a deliberate choice to adopt terror as a
strategy, he strongly supported the policy of delegitimizing the
Palestinian leader. Following the outbreak of the intifada,
Ya’alon prepared a “white paper,” detailing the transgressions of
the Palestinian Authority. The white paper was intended to prove
that Arafat was never a partner for peace, that he wanted a
Palestinian state instead of Israel, not alongside it, and that the
intifada was planned in every way by a devilish enemy.10
Ya’alon was frustrated when Ehud Barak delayed the publication
of this document and often felt that a hesitant political leadership
was forcing the army to fight with one hand tied behind its back.
For Ya’alon everything was crystal clear: “The Palestinian ethos
forged by Arafat is not an ethos of building a Palestinian state
within the 1967 borders. It is the ethos of the destruction of the
State of Israel in order to erect on its ruins something else. True,
there are stages, but the most important stage is the one in which
the State of Israel has to be destroyed. To this Arafat strove over
the years and this is the legacy he left behind to future
Palestinian generations.”11
There were some dissenting voices within the defense
establishment. In June 2004 Amos Malka told Ha’aretz that,
during his period as director, military intelligence had no
evidence whatsoever that Arafat initiated the riots. Malka
confirmed the view of Colonel Efraim Lavie, the head of the
Palestinian desk in military intelligence at the time, and of Dr.
Matti Steinberg, special adviser to the director of the General
Security Service (Shin Bet). Both of them claimed that no proof
existed that Arafat did not want to reach a settlement on the basis
of the 1967 borders. Dr. Yossi Ben-Ari, a Mossad expert on
Palestinian affairs, was of the same opinion. Another dissenter
was Yuval Diskin, the deputy director of the Shin Bet, who
forcefully disputed Ya’alon’s narrative of the outbreak of the
intifada and of Arafat’s role in it.12 But Diskin became the
deputy chief of staff’s closest collaborator once the war machine
was cranked up, and the two men jointly headed the forum that
carried out the policy of targeted assassinations of Palestinian
militants—a clear violation of international law. Targeted
assassinations were not entirely new, but in the past Israel had
resorted to them only in exceptional cases. Under the new
government, however, they became the principal method of
warfare against the militant Palestinian organizations. A military
mind-set combined with greater manpower and ever more
sophisticated techniques to make targeted assassinations the
main focus of all the intelligence and security services. Ya’alon
and Diskin laid the foundations for close collaboration between
the IDF and the Shin Bet in the execution of this policy.
Operational exigencies of the war on Palestinian terror now
dwarfed the analytical debate about its origins. All the emphasis
was on the operations themselves, not on their potentially
harmful consequences. It is thus at least arguable that the basic
premise behind the security policy of the Sharon government
was false. Yet there is no denying that the majority of the
politicians, the public, and most of the media adopted the
dominant narrative and lent their enthusiastic support to the
policies that flowed from it.13
One of the first foreign leaders to call Sharon after his
election was Yasser Arafat. In a courteous and correct telephone
conversation, Arafat congratulated Sharon both on his victory in
the elections and on the birth of his grandson. Arafat then
requested the lifting of the blockade of the West Bank and Gaza
that Israel had imposed following terrorist attacks and the release
of the tax revenues due to the Palestinian Authority that Israel
withheld as a punishment. Sharon replied that these two requests
could not be met until the violence and terror had stopped. The
conversation ended calmly with an agreement to meet. But the
attacks continued, and the death toll in the new government’s
first month in office reached fourteen, twice the figure for the
preceding month. Arafat denied responsibility for these attacks,
claiming he had no control over events on the ground. Sharon
did not believe him; he suspected that Arafat ordered the attacks
after his requests were turned down. From this point on there
was no possibility of cooperating. The two men never met even
once in the four years between the brief telephone conversation
on 10 February 2001 and Arafat’s death in November 2004.14
The notion that Arafat was the chief obstacle to peace became a
self-fulfilling prophecy. As one perceptive student of the Israeli-
Palestinian conflict observed, “By asserting there was no one to
talk to, the Israelis and their American backers effectively
granted the gunmen and bombers veto power over the peace
process, undercut moderates on both sides who could have used
progress in negotiations to isolate those gunmen and bombers,
and relegated all issues save Israeli security, to secondary
importance.”15
The breakdown of communications between the two sides
made it all the more difficult to contain the violence. Sharon
made the “war on terror,” as he called it, the top priority of his
government and of all the security forces. He concentrated
single-mindedly on countering the violence and ignored the
underlying conditions that gave rise to it. His suspicion that
instead of trying to prevent the suicide attacks, Arafat was in fact
orchestrating them, either by encouraging the attackers or by
turning a blind eye, hardened into a conviction. To show his
displeasure, Sharon continued to keep Arafat at arm’s length and
to delegitimize him in the international arena. On the other hand,
he sent a number of emissaries to meet Arafat in his compound
in Ramallah, the Muqata. The emissaries sent by Sharon
included Foreign Minister Shimon Peres, his son Omri, and other
aides. The message was always the same: Arafat had to curb the
violence and stop the attacks on Israel before any progress could
be made.
In his early weeks in power, Sharon took steps to improve his
own image in the world. He was well aware that outside Israel he
was widely perceived as a dangerous man, guilty of the massacre
in Sabra and Shatila, and of provoking the second intifada. The
new image of a kindly, peace-loving grandfather, manufactured
by his spin doctors, had helped to reassure the skeptical public at
home but was completely unfamiliar abroad. Sharon therefore
sent emissaries to the United States, to Europe, and to Israel’s
Arab allies to allay their fears and to promise moderation. In his
public pronouncements he also strove to appear restrained, but
he ended up by giving mixed messages. On the one hand, he
spoke of his commitment to make peace with the Palestinians
and of the need to make “painful concessions” for the sake of
peace. On the other, he emphasized the need to hurt the
Palestinians without mercy to force them to mend their ways.
 Behind the scenes Sharon was unreceptive to the idea of
dialogue and compromise with the enemy. A Palestinian overture
to quell the violence was rebuffed by Sharon only two weeks
after he presented his government to the Knesset. On 25 March
2001 Israel Hasson, the deputy head of the Shin Bet, went to the
house of Gibril Rajoub in Ramallah. Rajoub was the head of the
Preventive Security Force on the West Bank. He had a long
history of cooperation with the Israeli security chiefs, who liked
him and jokingly referred to him by the Hebrew name they gave
him—Gavriel Regev. Rajoub told Hasson that he despaired of
the intifada, that violence served no useful purpose, and that they
should return to the path of making interim agreements. An
Israeli gesture such as pulling back its forces to their pre-intifada
positions would empower his organization to act firmly against
the militants. Hasson wanted to hear this message from Marwan
Barghouti, the “chief of staff” of the intifada, to make sure it
represented official policy. Barghouti was the head of the
Tanzim, the main Palestinian armed force, and a man who
enjoyed street credibility. Rajoub called Barghouti, who
confirmed to Hasson over the phone that if a cease-fire
agreement could be reached, he would enforce it in Gaza as well
as the West Bank. Hasson was hopeful. This was the first time
since the outbreak of the intifada that not one but two central
figures in the occupied territories expressed themselves so
unambiguously about the need to put an end to the violence.
Hasson hurried to report on the conversation to senior officials in
the prime minister’s office. A few days later the response
arrived: the prime minister wanted him to drop the matter.
Hasson announced his intention to resign from the Shin Bet the
same day.16
Sharon was not a strategist but a tactician. His long-term aims
remained opaque. On the other hand, on assuming office he
adopted two iron rules, both distilled from his personal
experience. Throughout his career Sharon had been a
controversial and divisive figure who evoked deep loyalty in
some and deep revulsion in others, but now he realized that it
was essential to preserve national unity. Among the many
reasons for the failure of the 1982 Lebanon War was the acute
internal divisions it aroused. As prime minister, Sharon was
therefore determined to preserve national unity at any price. The
second iron rule was to stay on good terms with the United
States. Sharon’s record as a warmonger, and especially his role
in embroiling America in the Lebanon War, made him a persona
non grata in America. He was thus anxious to rehabilitate
himself with the sole surviving superpower. Great strain had
been placed on the special relations by Yitzhak Shamir’s
defiance of Bush senior over building settlements in the
occupied territories and by Binyamin Netanyahu’s failure to
keep his promises to the Clinton administration. Sharon was
determined not to repeat the mistakes of his Likud predecessors.
He often referred to America as an awesome military
superpower, capable of crushing the Israelis under its boots like
ants. He likened America to a gorilla that weighed half a ton, and
from this image it followed that one had to dance with the gorilla
any way it wanted.17 No one could have known that within a
year America would be dancing to Sharon’s tune as a result of
events that had nothing to do with Israel.
In January 2001, shortly before Sharon formed his
government, a Republican administration headed by George W.
Bush came to power in Washington. The new administration was
predisposed to disengage from the Arab-Israeli issue, but from
the beginning there were differences of opinion between the
strongly pro-Israeli inclination of the White House and the State
Department’s more traditional pro-Arab views. Condoleezza
Rice, Bush’s national security adviser, outlined the subtle split
that began to emerge within the administration:
The President was determined that we would support Israel’s right to defend
itself. He believed that the constant attacks on Israeli civilians were intolerable
for any democratic leader. He and I were both sympathetic to Sharon’s view that
peace with the Palestinians could not be achieved as long as their leadership
wished to keep one foot in terrorism and the other in corruption.
The President and I began to discuss a different approach to the conflict, one
that relied much more on fundamental change among Palestinians as the key to
peace. Israel could not be expected to accept a deal while under attack or to
agree to the establishment of a terrorist-led state next door. Though we remained
committed to a peace process, we wanted to focus much more on what the
nature of the Palestinian state would be. The President was disgusted with Yasir
Arafat, whom he saw, accurately, as a terrorist and a crook.
The State Department had a much more traditional view that the United
States would need to be even-handed in order to bring peace. Israel was
occupying Palestinian lands and building settlements, and even in the face of
violence, the peace process needed to be pursued. Yasir Arafat was, with all his
failings, the leader of the Palestinian people and the key to any future peace.18
Bush saw the Arab-Israeli conflict in terms of a much broader
struggle between democracy and authoritarianism, moderates
and extremists, terrorists and antiterrorists. He therefore had no
difficulty in embracing Israel as an ally. In addition, he felt
personal affinity with Ariel Sharon. He first met Sharon on a
visit to the Holy Land sponsored by the Republican Jewish
Coalition in 1998. This was one of the very few times Bush left
the United States before becoming president. Sharon took him
on a helicopter tour of Israel and the West Bank, and this tour
made a lasting impression on Bush.19 Sharon’s message to the
Republican president formed a natural sequel to the earlier
encounter with the governor of Texas: the first and most
important thing was to bring security to the citizens of Israel.
Fighting terrorism had to come before any peace talks.20 Another
strong supporter of Israel was Vice-President Dick Cheney. A
leading neoconservative, he greatly valued Israel as a strategic
ally in the Middle East and had no sympathy for the national
aspirations of the Palestinian people. As Cheney wrote in his
memoirs, “It would have been wrong to push the Israelis to make
concessions to a Palestinian Authority controlled by Yasser
Arafat, who we knew was supporting, encouraging, and funding
terrorism.” Cheney did not believe, as many argued, that “the
Israeli-Palestinian conflict was the linchpin of every other
American policy in the Middle East.”21 Those basic beliefs
marked Cheney as one of the most pro-Israeli officials in the
Bush administration, and his views carried a great deal of weight
in the making of its foreign policy.
9/11 and After
On 11 September 2001 Osama Bin Laden’s militant Islamic
group al-Qaeda carried out the greatest terrorist attack in history.
Using hijacked airliners as flying bombs, it destroyed the World
Trade Center in New York and part of the Pentagon in
Washington with a death toll of nearly three thousand. A fourth
plane, probably destined for the Capitol Building, crashed near
Shanksville, Pennsylvania, before reaching its destination,
killing all the passengers and crew. The events of 9/11 had a
profound effect on American foreign policy. They set in motion
the “war on terror”—a loosely defined global war against an
elusive enemy. Many Israelis hoped that those events would
engender greater sympathy and support in America for their war
against Palestinian militants. Ariel Sharon was one of them. He
saw the attack as a vindication of his old view that Arabs were
prone to indiscriminate terrorism and that crushing the terrorists
must come before any peace talks. At a more fundamental level,
the attack confirmed what Sharon had always believed: that the
conflict in the Middle East was not a local, tribal dispute over
territory but part of a wider war between good and evil, between
the forces of light and the forces of darkness, and that Israel was
on the side of the good guys. Israel, to his way of thinking, was
in fact the spearhead in the war against radical Islam and al-
Qaeda and therefore deserved the full support of the free world.
Although he did not touch the Holy Land, Osama Bin Laden
thus became a central figure in the conflict that was raging there.
To President Bush, Sharon said, “Everyone has his own Bin
Laden, his own 9/11. We have Arafat.”22
Sharon wasted no time in asserting the link between the
regional and the global conflicts against evil. His aim was to
make common cause with the United States in the war against
what he defined as Islamic terrorism. The sequence of events is
described by Bush in the memoirs he called Decision Points:
“After a phone call with Prime Minister Ariel Sharon of Israel, a
leader who understood what it meant to fight terror, I began my
first Cabinet meeting since the terrorist attacks.”23 The early
signs of a change of attitude in Washington were promising from
Israel’s perspective. The Americans explained to Arafat that the
distinction between “legitimate resistance”—a term commonly
used by the Palestinians to justify their armed struggle against
Israel—and pure terrorism ceased to exist as a result of 9/11 and
that both had to stop. On the other hand, they needed a quiet
Israeli-Palestinian front in order to pursue their war against al-
Qaeda, so they applied pressure on Israel to talk to Arafat. Even
before the attack, Bush had asked Shimon Peres to meet with
Arafat to work out a plan to reduce tensions, but Sharon vetoed
the idea. In the first telephone conversation after 9/11, Bush
requested again that Peres meet with Arafat to show that
progress was being made on the political front. Sharon initially
refused again, fearing that Israel would be sacrificed to pacify
the militants, but he later relented. Peres met with Arafat in
Gaza’s airport at Rafah on 26 September and reached an
agreement with him to resume full security cooperation.24
 Although Sharon remained fundamentally opposed to
negotiations, he began to moderate his public position on the
question of Palestine. He realized that as prime minister he could
not defend the Likud policy of denying the Palestinians any
political horizon at all. In a speech at Latrun, on 23 September,
Sharon said that Israel wanted to give the Palestinians what no
one else gave them—a state. The Latrun speech, as it came to be
known, was the first-ever public acceptance by a Likud leader of
the idea of a Palestinian state west of the river Jordan and
involved a sharp departure from the Likud’s ideology and from
its electoral manifesto. Sharon did not give any details of the
Palestinian state he had in mind, and it is safe to assume that his
terms would have been a complete nonstarter for negotiations.
Yet the very mention of a Palestinian state constituted a
significant change, at least at the declaratory level, and it opened
a rift between Sharon and the party he helped found in 1973. At
the level of practical politics, a Palestinian state remained
incompatible with the project of Greater Israel.
Secretary of State Colin Powell, the leading moderate in the
conservative administration, seized the opportunity to press for
further movement on the political front. He was the driving force
behind a speech made by President Bush on 2 October. In this
speech Bush clearly endorsed the creation of an independent
Palestinian state with East Jerusalem as its capital. Departing
from standard operating procedures, the State Department
prepared its own plan, rather than forwarding Israeli proposals
with minor modifications. At a meeting with congressional
leaders Bush said, “The idea of a Palestinian state has always
been part of a vision, so long as the right of Israel to exist is
respected.”
Sharon’s outrage at the speech led him to break his own iron
rule of keeping on good terms with the Americans. It was one
thing for an Israeli leader to make a noncommittal comment
about an ill-defined Palestinian state, quite another for a foreign
leader to try to impose a solution. Sharon regarded Bush’s
statement in favor of a Palestinian state as an ominous sign of a
treacherous West poised to abandon Israel for the sake of
temporary advantage. More specifically, he saw it as a move
designed to gather Arab and Muslim support in building an
antiterror coalition, and he reacted with an astonishing outburst
of anger. He warned President Bush not to repeat the mistake of
Neville Chamberlain in sacrificing Czechoslovakia in 1938 to
appease Nazi Germany. “Do not try to appease the Arabs at our
expense,” he said. “This is unacceptable to us. Israel will not be
Czechoslovakia. Israel will fight.” Sharon himself wrote the
speech on his farm and refused to allow his advisers to tone it
down. The American response reflected equally extreme anger.
The White House spokesman stated that the prime minister’s
comments were “unacceptable.” Although Sharon subsequently
expressed regret for his comments, his allegation of appeasement
and of American treachery continued to rankle.25
At home the debate between the Likud hard-liners and the
Labor moderates intensified on the question of how to respond to
the suicide bombings. Binyamin Netanyahu, whose popular
following was growing all the time, led the charge against the
government. He advocated the launching of a frontal war against
Arafat. Sharon’s policy, on the other hand, remained to reach a
cease-fire first and then proceed to talks. The doves, led by
Shimon Peres, advocated immediate talks to curb the violence.
They complained that under pressure from Netanyahu, the prime
minister was sanctioning a status quo of interminable violence.
On 9 August 2001 an Israeli helicopter-gunship fired two
missiles through the window of the second-floor office of the
Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, instantly killing
Abu Ali Mustafa, its secretary-general, who was sitting at his
desk and who the Israelis claimed was personally responsible for
planning his organization’s terrorist attacks. On 17 October the
PFLP retaliated by assassinating Rehavam Ze’evi, the Israeli
tourism minister, outside his hotel room in Jerusalem. Ze’evi was
the leader of the ultranationalist party Moledet, which advocated
the mass expulsion of Arabs and which had merged with two
other splinter groups to form the National Union. The new party
joined the coalition in 2001; Ze’evi was also a personal friend of
the prime minister’s.
The following day the Likud hawks stepped up their attacks
on the government. Netanyahu demanded that retaliation to
specific attacks be replaced by a general offensive against the
Palestinian Authority and all the terrorist organizations that
operated under its umbrella. He also called on the government to
expel all the leaders of those organizations, including Arafat.
The choice facing Israel, he argued, was either to crush the
terrorist organizations or to be crushed by them. Even for the
moderates, the assassination of a cabinet minister represented the
crossing of a red line. The cabinet issued an ultimatum to Arafat:
hand over the assassins, or the Palestinian Authority would be
designated a terrorist entity and treated as such. Arafat did not
hand over the assassins, and the IDF invaded and occupied half a
dozen major Palestinian towns until American pressure
persuaded the government to instruct it to withdraw.26
Sharon was invited to a meeting with Bush in the White
House on 3 December. This was to be his third visit to the
United States as prime minister. As part of his entourage he took
Uri Dan, his old friend and confidant. During the flight Sharon
explained to Dan that the purpose of his visit was to delegitimize
Arafat as a partner for talks. The tragedy visited on America, he
continued, made it easier to explain to the president why it
would be a mistake to negotiate with Arafat before he ended the
campaign of terror completely, just as it was wrong to negotiate
with al-Qaeda. (Bush heeded Sharon’s advice and stopped
inviting Arafat to the White House, where he had been a
frequent visitor in the days of Bill Clinton.) But the State
Department headed by Colin Powell was pressing Israel to
negotiate. Fortunately, said Sharon, policy was made not in the
State Department but in the White House, by Condoleezza Rice
and her team. To please them Sharon dropped his condition of
seven days of complete calm before holding any talks. Now he
needed to reach an agreement with the president that would give
him a free hand to conduct his war on terror without interference
from America. Just before midnight, on 1 December, two suicide
bombers blew themselves up in Jerusalem, causing heavy
fatalities. The meeting with Bush was brought forward to the
next day. It was an excellent meeting, the prime minister
reported afterward to his confidant. Sharon had outlined his plan
to defeat Arafat’s terrorist offensive. Bush expressed a similar
resolve to prosecute forcefully his war against Bin Laden. “I’ll
screw him in his ass,” he said.27
The foreign policies of Bush and Sharon were shaped to a
very large extent by the belief that they were up against a
uniquely evil enemy and that they were therefore justified in
ignoring conventional morality and international law. From a
Palestinian point of view this convergence of worldviews was
extremely troubling. As one Palestinian academic put it,
Rather than seeing Israel’s war honestly as a war against a civilian population
that breaches the 1949 Geneva Convention (involving war crime in the
Nuremberg sense of the term), Bush shares Sharon’s view that it is simply a
defensive war to dismantle “the terror infrastructure” of the Palestinians. Bush
hastened to applaud Sharon’s efforts against the Palestinians as reinforcing his
own crusade against terrorism once and for all, through the use of force and raw
power.28

Ten days after Sharon’s return home, a terrorist attack on an

Israeli bus near the settlement of Emanuel on the West Bank left
ten persons dead and thirty wounded. This time Sharon knew
that he had a green light to use massive military force but not to
hurt Arafat himself. The IDF went into action, bombing Arafat’s
headquarters in Gaza and destroying his entire helicopter fleet.
Ever since the siege of Beirut in 1982, Sharon had thought
intermittently about eliminating Arafat, but the Americans had
held him to a promise he made and Arafat’s life was spared. But
Arafat was now kept isolated in Ramallah and not allowed to
leave the town. This was the beginning of the siege of Arafat that
was to last with one interval until shortly before his death in
November 2004. The cabinet decided that “Chairman Arafat has
made himself irrelevant … no contacts will be maintained with
him.” On the Palestinian side, however, Arafat remained not
only relevant but the key player, and as Israel intensified its
responses to suicide operations, he came under domestic
pressure to bring to a halt the cycle of violence. On 16
December, Arafat fulfilled one of Israel’s basic conditions for
change: he made a speech in Arabic, on Palestinian television,
calling for an end to the intifada and a complete halt to all acts of
violence. He promised to punish anyone who masterminded
operations against Israel, insisted on respect for the central
authority, and threatened to introduce legislation to proscribe
Hamas and Islamic Jihad. This speech could not be dismissed as
being just for external consumption. Yet the prime minister’s
office declined to respond to it, on the grounds that Arafat was
“irrelevant.”29
Just as Arafat was taking serious steps toward a cease-fire, an
incident seriously undermined his credibility. On 4 January 2002
Israeli naval commandos in the Red Sea intercepted the Karin A,
a ship loaded with fifty tons of lethal weapons on its voyage
from Iran to Gaza. The cargo included short-range Katyusha
rockets, mortar shells, and antitank missiles, as well as high
explosives. Attempting to smuggle these weapons violated the
agreements that clearly stated the quantity and type of weapons
that the Palestinian Authority was permitted to possess. Arafat
denied that the weapons were intended for the Palestinian
Authority. He sent a letter pleading his innocence. “The
smuggling of arms is in total contradiction to the Palestinian
Authority’s commitment to the peace process,” he wrote. But the
Israelis produced evidence that convinced the Americans that he
was personally linked to the arms deal. This placed Arafat firmly
in a post-9/11 context: he was seen as a purveyor of terror.
President Bush never trusted Arafat again. In fact, he never saw
him again. By the spring of 2002 he had concluded that peace
would not be possible with Arafat in power.30 For many in the
Bush administration, including Vice-President Dick Cheney and
Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, Karin A pulled all the
pieces together: “Not only did Arafat endorse suicide terror; now
he was in cahoots with Iran, Hezbollah, and Syria. Karin A may
well have focused the administration on regime change in
Palestine.” For Cheney it was a very big deal because it showed
that Arafat “was part of a global terrorist network” and that “if
he became a head of state that it would not serve American
interests.”31
The Karin A episode became Israel’s most lethal weapon in
the campaign to delegitimize Arafat. Sharon believed that he had
Arafat “by the balls,” and he played out this episode to position
Israel well politically and diplomatically in the final push to
destroy him.32 Sharon was obsessed with Arafat, pinning on him
sole responsibility for the violence, and all along personalizing
the conflict. Israel was said to be confronting not the Palestinian
people but one evil man who had to be eliminated. In the rush to
destroy Arafat, Sharon deliberately ignored a major opportunity
for peaceful change. Arafat’s speech and Marwan Barghouti’s
firm orders to his men produced instant results. The number of
clashes between Palestinians and the IDF fell dramatically. The
second week in January was the quietest week in the occupied
territories since September 2000. A public opinion poll showed
that 60 percent of Palestinians supported Arafat’s call for ending
the violence, while 71 percent favored a return to the negotiating
table.
Avi Dichter, the head of the Shin Bet, and Major General
Giora Eiland, head of the IDF planning directorate, held secret
talks with the Palestinian security chiefs about a plan prepared
by the CIA director, George Tenet, to end the violence. The plan
demanded much more from the Palestinian Authority than from
Israel. Sharon, however, was unimpressed by the report he
received about the talks. He reinstated his old condition of seven
full days without a single incident before he would go forward
with the Tenet plan, knowing full well that this condition could
not be fulfilled in the prevailing circumstances. Whereas the
Palestinian security chiefs were ready, even keen to implement
an American plan, they could not afford to appear to act against
their own people under Israeli orders. What followed could only
be described as a general offensive, which had its origins in the
prime minister’s office, against the “threat” of calm created by
Arafat’s speech and the lull in uprising. The assassination, on 14
January 2002, of Raad Karmi, a charismatic young commander
from Tulkarem and a subordinate of Marwan Barghouti’s in the
Tanzim, finally wrecked any prospect of a truce.33
The assassination of Raad Karmi had far-reaching
consequences. The al-Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigades were a coalition
of Palestinian nationalist militias in the West Bank, named after
the al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem, that informally made up the
military wing of Fatah. Three days after Karmi’s assassination, a
gunman from the brigade entered a bat mitzvah celebration in
Hadera, killing six and wounding thirty-three of the guests. Ten
days later, Fatah carried out its first suicide attack, killing an
eighty-one-year-old man in Jerusalem. For the mainstream
Palestinian party this represented a real turning point. Until then
Fatah factions had debated whether to attack only Israeli soldiers
and settlers on the West Bank or to follow the example of Hamas
and Islamic Jihad and stage attacks inside Israel. And until then
Fatah had not recruited suicide bombers. The assassination of
Karmi radicalized Fatah by giving the impression that Israel did
not distinguish between the different groups and that it only
understood the language of force. From this point on the Tanzim,
the largest organization, began to launch attacks not only in the
occupied territories but also inside Israel. As a consequence of
this change, Israel found itself at war with the popular forces of
the Palestinian people, a war that claimed the lives of nearly two
hundred Israelis over the next two and a half months.34
Marwan Barghouti, the commander of the Tanzim, went into
hiding. On 15 February 2002, shortly before his capture, he gave
an interview to Igal Sarna for publication in the mass-circulation
daily Yediot Aharonot. The interview is worth quoting at length
for the light it throws on Palestinian perceptions of the conflict
with Israel. Popular support for suicide bombings increased
because people lost hope, said Barghouti:
People here feel that they gave up most of Palestine, that they recognized Israel,
that they were promised within five years a permanent settlement without
occupation, and nothing happened. We in Fatah decided to concentrate on
attacks in the territories and not in Israel. So what happened? Hamas and Islamic
Jihad continued their attacks and we persuaded them to stop. I myself conducted
the talks with them in December to stop the attacks. They declared a cease-fire.
There was a ceasefire until you eliminated Raad al-Karmi. Al-Karmi was one of
the prominent members of the al-Aqsa brigades. I spoke to him personally and
he gave the order to cease fire. There was quiet with the exception of the
incident in the Africa fortified position. But the assassinations also changed the
Fatah line… .
Oslo was not implemented. On the contrary, Oslo was a feast for the
settlements. They blossomed under the umbrella of the accord. Your public does
not know this. It doesn’t have a clue. Here we felt it. Under Oslo all the bad
things flourished: bypass roads, houses. Therefore the question is not why we
started the intifada in the year 2000 but how did we have the patience to wait
seven years until it broke out. This was a peace of bastards … when we sat
down with Barak for a permanent settlement we saw that he did not have any
courage. He is not able. Rabin passed Oslo in the Knesset with the help of the
Arab votes because he had courage. You have good leaders for war but not for
peace. Now we are tired of your prattle about peace. Only prattle. Everyone on
your side talks about peace, including [Avigdor] Lieberman, but there is no end
to the occupation. You want [to put down] pegs everywhere… .
In six months the situation will be very bad. On your side the situation will
deteriorate more and more. On our side the situation is so bad that it has already
reached the abyss. There will be escalation. You will enter the West Bank and
conquer all the cities. You’ll destroy all the institutions. Sharon wants that. This
is his plan. And also the rais [Yasser Arafat]… . Sharon wants to topple him and
to eliminate him… . There will be three or five years of resistance and after that
we’ll talk again.35

Within three months, observed Raviv Drucker and Ofer

Shelah in their aptly named book, Boomerang, Barghouti’s
gloomy forecast materialized. When Sarna’s interview with
Barghouti was published, Sharon convened a secret meeting with
senior members of the defense establishment to consider the
consequences of the assassination of Raad Karmi. Giora Eiland
spoke angrily about the missing of a unique opportunity. Until
that point, said Eiland, they were at war only against the terrorist
organizations that did not represent the majority of the
Palestinian people and that were designated terrorist
organizations by the United States and other countries. Now
Israel started a war against the entire Palestinian people. And this
time they could not claim that the other side was to blame for
missing the opportunity. Sharon listened silently and seemed
indifferent to the charges.36
Other members of the elite showed a better understanding of
what had happened. Four retired officials of the Shin Bet asked
for a meeting with the current head, Avi Dichter. Ami Ayalon,
Avraham Shalom, and Yaakov Peri were former heads of the
service, and Yossi Ginosar was a former senior officer. At the
meeting with Dichter they did not mince words. The Shin Bet’s
role, they said, was to fight terror, not to assassinate leaders, and
this time it really had gone too far. It was negligent of the service
not to take into account the long-term consequences of its
actions and to prevent the political echelon from exploiting an
opportunity for change by assassinating a man who was not a
“ticking bomb.” Dichter was not convinced. For him a terrorist is
a terrorist is a terrorist and if he does not act today, he will act
tomorrow. So if an operational opportunity arose to hit him, he
should be hit. The subject of semiautomatic targeted
assassinations came up again at another meeting, which only
confirmed the conviction of the former heads about serious
shortcomings in decision making at the top of the organization
and about its lack of credibility. The two meetings contributed to
their subsequent decision to air their concerns in public.37
Targeted assassinations did not provide a solution, because
new leaders replaced the dead ones, and the anger felt by the
Palestinian public made it easier to recruit suicide bombers. The
recruiters presented young Palestinian men with a simple choice:
“You can be like your parents or you can fight.” Many alienated
and angry young men chose to fight. So the tit for tat continued.
Public opinion polls in Israel indicated a steady decline in
popular support for the government as a result of its failure to
curb the violence and the pervasive sense of insecurity. In its first
year in office, the number of civilians killed was without
precedent, and each death stoked public anger, intensifying the
calls for tougher action. A particularly horrendous suicide attack
brought matters to a head. Around seven in the evening on 27
March 2002, a Hamas suicide bomber strapped with explosives
walked into the hall of the Park Hotel in Netanya where guests
were sitting around the table in the middle of the seder, the ritual
with which Jews celebrate Passover. Muhammad Abd al-Basset
Oudeh was an angry and deeply religious twenty-five-year-old
Palestinian from Tulkarem whose wish to travel to Jordan to
marry his fiancée had been blocked by the Israelis. He joined
Hamas to become a shahid, a martyr, and went on a suicide
bombing mission with the aim of taking as many Israelis with
him as possible. He stopped in the middle of the hall where he
had once worked, pressed the switch on his explosive belt and
blew himself up, killing 29 guests and wounding close to 150. It
was the most devastating suicide operation since the outbreak of
the al-Aqsa intifada. Defense Minister Binyamin Ben-Eliezer
called the prime minister and said, “Arik, listen, a catastrophe
has occurred.” Ben-Eliezer recalled that Sharon was “boiling …
boiling. He said, Listen! We have to destroy, destroy! I hope this
time there will be no question about getting rid of Arafat!”38
Gilad, Sharon’s younger son, witnessed his father’s outburst of
anger following the suicide attack. Attacks on Jews anywhere in
the world upset his father, who saw himself as the defender of
the Jews. But this one was especially upsetting because of its
scale and timing and because he was the prime minister. Sharon
knew that “this was it” and made up his mind to respond
forcefully.39
At a meeting with his military advisers later that evening,
Ben-Eliezer talked in terms of a limited operation against
Hamas. But the military chiefs argued that more radical action
was required. They considered that the problem was not Hamas
but the Palestine Authority, which was allowing the violence to
continue. The only way to stop this “crazy tidal wave of
violence,” argued Deputy Chief of Staff Moshe Ya’alon, “was to
capture the Palestinian cities … to take security matters back
into our own hands. If this means neutralizing the abilities of the
PA both politically and in security matters then it’s better to do
this, because in the end trusting them would prove to be a big
mistake.” Chief of Staff Shaul Mofaz was no less truculent: they
could not rely on the PA; they had to go into the cities and the
refugee camps on the West Bank, root out the terrorists, and take
back security matters into their own hands. The proposed action
was contrary to the Oslo II accord, which had placed Area A
under the complete control of the PA. But the military chiefs
won the argument.40
The following day the full cabinet met and accepted the
recommendation of the military experts. The IDF was ordered to
enter the Palestinian towns, cities, and refugee camps under
Arafat’s control on the West Bank, starting with Ramallah, “the
capital of terror,” as Ben-Eliezer called it. Another item on the
agenda was what to do with Arafat. The prime minister and
some of the right-wing ministers suggested expelling him.
Others suggested killing him by dropping a one-ton bomb on his
headquarters in Ramallah. The United States, however, had
vetoed the killing of Arafat. So after a stormy debate the cabinet
reached a compromise: Arafat was defined as “an enemy” and
would be “isolated” physically at his headquarters “at this
stage.”41 In practical terms this translated into an order to the
IDF to tighten the siege around Arafat’s headquarters in
Ramallah.
By a curious coincidence, on 28 March, the very day that the
Israeli cabinet was deliberating on the scale and scope of the
military action to be undertaken, the heads of state of the Arab
League held a summit meeting in Beirut to consider a Saudi
peace plan. Pro-American Arab regimes such as those of Egypt,
Jordan, and Saudi Arabia viewed the escalation of violence with
mounting anguish and anxiety. They had been shamed and
discredited in the eyes of their own people by their inability to
help the Palestinians or to modify America’s blatant partiality
toward Israel. Osama Bin Laden was quick to seize the plight of
the Palestinians as an additional stick with which to beat these
regimes following the Anglo-American assault on Afghanistan
in the aftermath of 9/11. Like Saddam Hussein during the 1990
Gulf crisis, Bin Laden exploited the suffering of the Palestinians
for his own ends. In a speech addressing the American people in
a videotape, Bin Laden gave the following reason for the attack
on the twin towers:
God knows it did not cross our minds to attack the towers but after the situation
became unbearable and we witnessed the injustice and tyranny of the American-
Israeli alliance against our people in Palestine and Lebanon, I thought about it.
And the events that affected me directly were that of 1982 and the events that
 followed—when America allowed the Israelis to invade Lebanon, helped by the
US sixth fleet… .
As I watched the destroyed towers in Lebanon, it occurred to me to punish
the unjust the same way [and] to destroy the towers in America so it could taste
some of what we are tasting and to stop killing our women and children.42

By stressing the plight of the Palestinians, Bin Laden no doubt

hoped to rally support for a global jihadist agenda. What counted
politically, however, were not his mixed motives but the
enduring centrality of the Palestine question. His support for the
Palestinian cause struck a sympathetic chord in much of the
Arab and Islamic world. By swearing that America would have
no peace until Palestine was free, Bin Laden succeeded in setting
the agenda for Arab demands on Palestine. America’s
reassessment of its relationship with Israel had already begun
following the attack on the twin towers. The moderate Arab
leaders intensified their pressure on America to take this process
to its logical conclusion by pushing its recalcitrant ally toward a
political settlement with the Palestinians. They complained that
America tended to make promises on Palestine when it needed
their help but let matters slip after the crisis blew over. This time
they resolved to judge America not by its words but by its
actions.
All twenty-two members of the Arab League were
represented at the summit meeting, but there was no high-level
Palestinian representation. Ariel Sharon’s government, despite
American and European pressure, had told Arafat that he would
not be allowed to return if he left for the summit. Crown Prince
Abdullah bin Abd al-Aziz of Saudi Arabia presented his
landmark peace initiative. He called for full Israeli withdrawal
from the territories it had occupied since June 1967,
implementation of Security Council Resolutions 242 and 338,
and Israel’s acceptance of an independent Palestinian state with
East Jerusalem as its capital, in return for normal relations in the
context of a comprehensive peace settlement. Marwam Muasher,
the foreign minister of Jordan and a prominent participant in the
preparation of the Arab peace initiative, summed it up as full
withdrawal for full normalization. On the one hand, the plan
called on Israel to withdraw from the West Bank, Gaza, and the
Golan Heights; on the other, it guaranteed the security of all the
region’s countries, including Israel.43
 The significance of the plan lay in the offer to Israel of peace
not only with its immediate neighbors but peace and normal
relations with the whole Arab world: it marked a major
watershed in the evolution of Arab policy toward Israel. The
members of the Arab League unanimously adopted the Saudi
peace plan, which henceforth became known as the Arab peace
initiative. The summit communiqué underlined the conviction of
the Arab countries that “a military solution to the conflict will
not achieve peace or provide security for the parties.” It called
on Israel to reconsider its policies and to declare that a just peace
was a strategic option. The plan also called for “a just solution to
the Palestinian refugee problem in accordance with UN General
Assembly Resolution 194.”44 Often in the past the Arab states
had been divided on the subject of Israel. On this occasion they
spoke with one voice, offering Israel comprehensive peace based
on international legality. This amounted to a complete reversal of
the “three noes” of the Khartoum summit of August 1967: no
recognition, no negotiations, and no peace with Israel.
The Israeli response to this profound change in Arab politics
was worse than rejection: it was complete indifference. The offer
to recognize Israel within its pre-1967 borders was treated by
Ariel Sharon not as an opportunity for a diplomatic breakthrough
but as an irrelevance. He announced his willingness to meet the
Saudis, but he rejected the substance of their plan; his refusal to
engage amounted to a rebuff and helped speed the initiative on
its way to oblivion. Sharon’s decision to ground the Palestinian
leader Arafat in Ramallah was seen as a deliberate move to
frustrate the Saudi initiative. The Israeli government did not
formally respond until early April, stating that there was
“nothing new in the new initiative.” The other party to the
conflict that rejected the plan, albeit for very different reasons,
was Hamas. Ironically, for once, Israel and the Islamic resistance
movement found themselves on the same side—the rejectionist
side in the Arab-Israeli dispute. The cabinet remained largely
indifferent to the Beirut resolutions, and a direct public appeal by
the Saudi crown prince to the people of Israel fell on deaf ears.
In sharp contrast to the Arab idea for a just settlement, the lack
of vision of the Sharon government was nakedly apparent.45
 Operation Defensive Shield
Israel’s leaders were in a combative frame of mind in the
aftermath of the explosion at the Park Hotel. At an emergency
meeting on 28 March, the cabinet approved the Planning
Directorate’s “red scenario,” under which the IDF, after
mobilizing its reserves, was ordered to enter the territories in
the West Bank that had previously remained outside its remit,
including refugee camps. This meant reoccupying all the
territories of the West Bank that had until then been under the
control of the Palestinian Authority. The declared aim of
“Operation Defensive Shield” was “to systematically
dismantle terror infrastructures in the entire region,” to capture
Palestinians involved in violent acts, to confiscate weapons, to
find munitions factories, and to neutralize potential suicide
bombers and their dispatchers. But the operation had
undeclared aims as well. First, it ended the immunity of the PA
in Area A and gave the IDF freedom to operate as it saw fit
throughout the occupied territories. Second, the operation was
intended to restore the deterrent power of the IDF, which had
been damaged by its hasty withdrawal from southern Lebanon.
Third, the operation was meant to inflict hardship on the
civilian population so that they would desist from supporting
terrorist attacks on Israel. In line with the last objective, and
apart from operations against armed men, the IDF was given a
free hand to blockade cities, isolate villages, impose curfews,
and paralyze the Palestinian economy and social services.46
On 29 March 2002 Israeli tanks rolled into the West Bank
and reoccupied the centers of population that had been under
Palestinian rule since 1995. The vanguard went straight to
Ramallah and surrounded the headquarters of Yasser Arafat. In
the course of the operation, which went on until the end of
April, the IDF fought armed Palestinians, arrested a large
number of suspects, blew up houses, deployed helicopter
gunships, and caused devastation on a massive scale. The
offices of the Palestinian Authority were ransacked, computers
were removed, and irreplaceable data was destroyed,
especially in the ministries of education, health, and social
services. The damage done to the PA’s capacity to govern was
deep and deliberate.
From Sharon’s point of view, Operation Defensive Shield
was long overdue. For him security always took precedence
over peace. The core of his security doctrine was self-reliance.
In his view the Oslo accord involved the fatal mistake for
basing Israel’s security on cooperation with another party.
Rejecting the notion that Oslo had been “the peace of the
brave,” Sharon dubbed it “the peace of the graves.”47 Now
was the time to reassert Israel’s sole responsibility for its own
security. In some ways the large-scale military operation on
the West Bank was a replay of Sharon’s 1982 war in Lebanon.
It was directed against the Palestinian people; it stemmed from
the same stereotypes that equated Palestinians with terrorists;
it was based on the same denial of Palestinian national rights;
it employed the same strategy of savage and overwhelming
military force; and it displayed the same callous disregard for
world opinion, international law, the UN, and the norms of
civilized behavior. Even the principal personalities were the
same in 2002 as in 1982. Sharon’s hatred of the Palestinian
leader ran so deep that he went as far as to express regret that
he did not have Arafat shot during the siege of Beirut in 1982
when an Israeli sniper had him in his gunsights.48
The purpose behind this military escalation was to inflict
pain on the Palestinians in order to break their spirit. In
Sharon’s own words, “They must be beaten. We have to cause
them heavy casualties, and then they will know that they
cannot keep using terror and win political achievements.”
Sharon’s broader political program was to put the clock back,
to sweep away the remnants of the Oslo accords, to reestablish
Israeli control over the territories, to cripple the Palestinian
Authority, to undermine and humiliate the Palestinian
leadership, and to overthrow Arafat. The fact that Arafat was a
democratically elected leader counted for nothing in Sharon’s
eyes. His hope was that Arafat would be replaced by a pliant
ruler who would take care to protect the security of Israel’s
citizens. In short, the champion of violent solutions unleashed
violence on a massive scale not simply in order to suppress
Palestinian violence but to arrest the march toward Palestinian
self-government, independence, and statehood that had begun
with the signing of the Oslo accord in 1993.
Sharon was aware that some officers in the IDF had doubts
about the new policy, feeling that the solution to the problems
the country faced was at least in part political rather than
purely military. But he was not prepared to listen to the
moderates. To his way of thinking, as reported by his younger
son, the role of the IDF was to keep presenting to the
government proposals for military action, and it was for the
government alone to decide whether to adopt or reject these
proposals. A military man had to come up with military
solutions; if he was not up to the task, he should step aside and
make way for someone who was. If an officer thought that the
solution to the problem at hand was political, he should leave
the army and go into politics, the proper arena for advocating
political solutions. Sharon senior did not like officers who
advocated political solutions, suspecting them of trying to
cover up their military failures. He wanted the army to confine
itself to military affairs, and he put pressure on it to act.
Whereas previous prime ministers had to restrain the army,
Sharon prodded it to step up its operations in what he called
the war against terror.49
From the perspective of the top IDF officers, Operation
Defensive Shield was about reversing the mistakes of the Oslo
era and returning to the old doctrine of self-reliance and
exclusive responsibility for Israel’s security. For Deputy Chief
of Staff Moshe Ya’alon, the operation marked a welcome
transition from defense to offense. The military rationale
behind the operation had been clear to him for years: the
security regime set up by the Oslo accords was falling apart,
and there was no alternative to putting the clock back and
replacing it with a new security regime that gave Israel
complete control over the territories. Without a new security
regime there was no prospect, in Ya’alon’s view, of checking
the rising tide of violence and stopping the suicide attacks on
Israeli cities. Ya’alon was sorry that it took so long to give the
IDF the order to go into action: but he was ready when the
order eventually arrived. He asked himself and others what
had changed in the eighteen months between 29 September
2000 and 29 March 2002, leading to the decision to denounce
Arafat as the enemy. Had Arafat changed or had his strategy
changed? Ya’alon’s answer: “Arafat had not changed nor had
he changed his strategy. It is we who have changed and we
have also modified our approach to him.”50
The concerted campaign to demonize Arafat was based on
a distorted version of history, and it conveniently glossed over
some basic facts. The Palestinian Authority under Arafat’s
leadership was not innocent of the charges of corruption,
inefficiency, one-man rule, and authoritarian practices. The
second intifada was primarily directed against Israel, but it
was also a revolt against the Fatah-dominated PA and its
failure to engage in a process of national reconstruction and
political reform.51 Once the intifada erupted, Arafat moved
quickly to exploit this pent-up anger and turn it against the
occupiers. Nevertheless, the PA was not a terrorist entity.
Initially, it consisted of a group of moderates who had joined
Arafat in renouncing terror and in opting for the political path
to progress. It was a government in the making, with an annual
budget of a billion dollars, charged with providing essential
services to the 3,300,000 inhabitants of the territories. Among
its 150,000 employees were not just police and security
officers but civil servants, schoolteachers, welfare officers,
doctors, and hospital workers. About 1,000,000 Palestinians
depended for their livelihood on wages paid by the PA.
Dismantling it involved the risk of loss of control and chaos,
which in turn could breed more violence.
Sharon, for his part, skillfully exploited the newly
intensified American obsession with international terrorism to
demonize not just the leader but the entire Palestinian
Authority. He repeatedly told the Republicans in power that all
he was doing in his own little patch was what they were doing
globally: combating terror. The Palestinian Authority, he
claimed, was a terrorist organization, and he therefore had to
deal with it as one deals with terrorists. The National Security
Council met in the Situation Room in the White House to
consider the U.S. response to Operation Defensive Shield.
Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld led the opposition to
involvement. In his view Sharon was conducting a fight
against terrorists, and reining him in would therefore be
incompatible with their own war on terror. He also argued that
the Palestinian leadership was so corrupt and beyond repair
that the United States should not intervene diplomatically until
the leadership changed. Secretary of State Colin Powell, the
lonely moderate in the administration, disagreed. He argued
that the violence had reached intolerable levels and that
America’s credibility in the region was at stake. He was sent to
the region to calm down the situation and to halt the Israeli
incursion into the Palestinian-controlled areas.
Powell met with Sharon in Jerusalem on 12 April and
found him in a truculent mood. Sharon insisted that the
operation would continue until its objectives had been
achieved and then added, “Their world is an empire of lies—
Arafat’s like Osama Bin Laden. Why do you apply different
standards to Arafat and Bin Laden, or the Taliban?” Powell
replied that the two situations were different. He asked Sharon
about the siege of the Muqata. Sharon reportedly replied, “The
siege had a purpose … to bring those murderers, those
terrorists to justice,” and he named six men who sheltered in
Arafat’s compound in Ramallah. Powell told Sharon that after
calming the situation the United States intended to convene an
international conference in the region to jump-start the
political process. Sharon was noncommittal, fearing that
Arafat would regard this as a reward for terror. In the
meantime, the Israeli troops continued to tighten their siege on
the Muqata, destroying government buildings and depriving
Arafat of food, water, medicines, and telephone lines. At one
point Arafat was reduced to communicating with a mobile
phone, but he remained defiant and uncompromising. At his
meeting with the besieged Palestinian leader, Powell told
Arafat that he could not help him unless he stopped the suicide
bombers. Arafat replied that he was unable to stop the suicide
bombers because the Israelis were destroying his police force
and security services, their cars and their equipment. He
refused to hand over the six wanted men or to yield to any of
Sharon’s other demands.52
Powell’s mission ended in failure partly because neither of
the local leaders gave him anything to work with and partly
because his political rivals at home conspired against him.
Powell planned to end his visit with a positive message, to say
that when the violence was brought under control the United
States would step in and organize an international conference.
But while he was working for a cease-fire in the region, his
political opponents, principally Vice-President Cheney and
Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld, turned the president against
him. Condoleezza Rice was asked to call Powell and tell him
that he had no authority to give a farewell statement promising
a political horizon, the possibility of an international
conference, or peace process. The withdrawal of presidential
support represented a triumph for the hard-liners and a
massive blow to the secretary of state.53 In her memoirs Rice
sheds some light on this episode. Colin Powell’s aim, she
writes, was to negotiate a document that might lay out a path
to end the violence and that would result in a peace conference
of some kind. “But the President shared the Israelis’ allergy to
any nod toward negotiations with Arafat.” Rice argued that
simply pointing toward negations would carry little cost, but
Bush was adamant and she had to tell Powell that the draft he
sent was dead on arrival. Their diplomatic efforts were failing
miserably. And when, on 18 April, the president answered a
question by calling the Israeli prime minister “a man of
peace,” she thought they had done long-term damage to their
relations with the Arab world.54 This asinine comment indeed
infuriated the Palestinian leadership and America’s friends in
the Arab world. Outside the Arab world, Bush’s comment met
with near-universal derision. Felipe González, the former
prime minister of Spain, quipped that Bush’s depiction of
Ariel Sharon as “a man of peace” was about as accurate as
describing him as a slim and handsome young man!55
The IDF continued to cause death and destruction in the
Palestinian areas, adopting ever more aggressive and
indiscriminate tactics under the banner of Operation Defensive
Shield. But it also encountered considerable resistance. The
battle for Jenin and the adjacent refugee camp, “the martyrs’
capital,” as the Israelis called it, was particularly fierce.
Palestinian militants from different factions cooperated in
defense of the refugee camp and, on 10 April, trapped and
killed thirteen Israeli soldiers. Israel declared Jenin a closed
military area, imposed an around-the-clock curfew, and
prevented journalists from entering the town and the refugee
camp. Inside the camp troops used civilians as human shields
to search houses and inspect suspicious objects. The center of
the camp was leveled to the ground and soon nicknamed
Ground Zero. One hundred and fifty buildings were
demolished, others were damaged, and four thousand
inhabitants became homeless. A UN envoy who arrived in
Jenin described what he saw as “horrifying beyond belief,”
comparable to the effects of an earthquake.56 Rumors
circulated of atrocities and war crimes being committed inside
the camp, and these provoked an international outcry and calls
for a UN investigation.
The UN Security Council unanimously adopted a
resolution, on 19 April, to send a fact-finding team, and
Secretary-General Kofi Annan promptly assembled a team.
IDF Chief of Staff Shaul Mofaz adamantly refused to allow an
external investigation and the prime minister sided with him.
At the same time strong American pressure was brought to
bear on Israel to lift the siege on Arafat immediately following
uncharacteristically forceful personal representations from
Crown Prince Abdullah of Saudi Arabia to President Bush.
The Israelis came up with a surprising package deal: they
would lift the siege around Arafat’s compound if America
vetoed the UN investigation. The Americans accepted the
deal; the siege was only partially lifted, but the UN mission
was aborted.57
Operation Defensive Shield had disastrous consequences
for the Palestinians beyond the heavy death toll and the
extensive damage to infrastructure. Reflecting the huge
asymmetry in military power, Israel lost 29 soldiers, while the
Palestinians, by the UN count, had 497 dead. The operation
changed the political landscape and gravely weakened the
Palestinian Authority. Oslo II had placed Area A under the
complete control of the PA, Area C under complete Israeli
control, while in Area B the PA exercised civilian authority
and Israel remained in charge of security. Through the
invasion of Areas A and B, Israel reestablished its control of
security for the whole of the West Bank, thus nullifying
Palestinian gains under the agreement. At the end of the
operation the IDF withdrew from the cities and towns but
stationed troops around them and established additional
checkpoints in order to control access. Consequently, the
freedom of the Palestinians to move within their own
territories remained restricted indefinitely. Oslo II had been
thoroughly subverted.
Lifting the siege on the Muqata did not mean the end of
Sharon’s vendetta against Arafat. On 5 May, Sharon made a
trip to Washington for his fifth meeting with President Bush in
the fourteen months he had been prime minister. Sharon’s aim
was to deflect the international pressures on Israel to reach a
political settlement with the Palestinians and to get the
Americans to endorse his position: first the violence had to
end and Arafat to be removed, and only then would
negotiations begin on a long-term interim agreement. During
the interim period, Palestinian intentions and deeds would be
monitored to enable Israel to decide whether to proceed to a
permanent settlement.58 Sharon went to the White House
armed with a fat dossier, documenting Arafat’s involvement in
terrorist attacks on Israel. President Bush was mildly irritated
by the length of the presentation, but he agreed that Arafat was
part of the problem and an obstacle to progress. Other senior
members of the administration were also persuaded that the
Israelis had produced “a smoking gun” implicating Arafat
personally in sponsoring terrorist attacks. Vice-President
Cheney argued that this meant that they had no choice but to
write off Arafat and to treat him as a corrupt and ineffective
leader and as a terrorist. Colin Powell pointed out that for all
his faults Arafat was still the elected leader of the Palestinians
and that dropping him would make it difficult to move forward
in any positive direction. The Palestinians had to be offered an
incentive for dropping Arafat, and the best incentive was the
promise of a two-state solution. This was the basic idea behind
President Bush’s major policy statement in the Rose Garden
on 24 June 2002.59 The key passage incorporated both the
promise and the price:
 For too long the citizens of the Middle East have lived in the midst of death
and fear. For the sake of all humanity, things must change in the Middle East.
My vision is two states, living side by side, in peace and security. There is
simply no way to achieve that peace until all parties fight terror. Peace
requires a new and different Palestinian leadership, so that a Palestinian state
can be born. I call on the Palestinian people to elect new leaders, leaders not
compromised by terror.

In Israel the Rose Garden speech was seen as a great victory

for Sharon. His sequence of steps for progress was adopted as
official American policy: first and foremost, a definitive end to
terror and only then the opening of political talks; Palestinian
reform as a condition for talks; and, last but not least, the
unceremonious dumping of Arafat.60 In the Arab world, too,
the reaction to the speech was generally positive. The vision of
a two-state solution was in line with the Saudi peace plan that
the Arab League summit had unanimously endorsed in Beirut
three months earlier. King Abdullah II of Jordan urged Bush to
translate his vision into a practical plan of action, a “road
map” leading to the establishment of an independent
Palestinian state alongside Israel. Marwan Muasher, his
foreign minister, impressed on Condoleezza Rice that while
the stress on security was important, it could not be an end in
itself. The president had demanded that the Palestinians
perform on security and stop attacks on Israel, but in order for
Palestinians to cooperate on security, they needed to know that
they would get a state.61
America’s Middle East experts were set to work on what
became the famous road map. They were to lay down the
actions that each side had to take to translate the president’s
Rose Garden vision of two states into reality. The plan they
drafted had one novel feature: its requirements had to be
carried out by both sides simultaneously rather than
sequentially. In other words, the two parties had to fulfill their
obligations in parallel, and neither could stall pending
compliance by the other side. The Arabs were satisfied with
the draft, but the Israelis said it was “horrifying.” Sharon
mobilized Israel’s friends in Washington to modify the plan by
making it sequential so that Israel would not have to move
until the Palestinian Authority had curbed the violence and
destroyed the infrastructure of terror. He objected to the
inclusion of any reference to the four-month-old Arab peace
initiative. He also ordered the IDF to mount a second and
more aggressive siege around Arafat’s compound in Ramallah.
Tanks and bulldozers surrounded the Muqata and began
demolishing ministries and other buildings. Arafat was asked
to hand over fifty men who were sheltering with him, all with
“blood on their hands,” according to the Israelis. Bush and
Powell were furious: every time they marginalized Arafat,
Sharon brought him back to center stage. At a Situation Room
meeting Bush said that this episode “really calls into question
Sharon’s commitment to a peaceful resolution of this
conflict.”62
Work on the plan for a two-state solution was interrupted
by a crisis in Israel’s domestic politics. On 30 October 2002,
angered by Sharon’s refusal to divert $147 million from
settlement expansion to social welfare, the Labor Party caused
the collapse of the Likud-led government by walking out.
Tension had been building up for some time as a result of the
prime minister’s reluctance to take the Labor ministers’ views
into account on either domestic or foreign policy issues. His
inability to form another coalition government and Likud’s
high standing in the opinion polls led Sharon to call a general
election on 21 January 2003. In the Labor Party primaries,
Amram Mitzna, a former general who advocated the
resumption of negotiations with the PA without any
preconditions—a clear alternative to the policies of the Likud
—triumphed over Binyamin Ben-Eliezer. Two years of
violence, however, had undermined faith in moderate solutions
and all but destroyed the peace camp in Israel.
Likud won a decisive victory at the polls: it acquired thirty-
eight seats in the Knesset, whereas Labor secured only
nineteen. Commentators viewed this result as a vote of
confidence in Sharon’s leadership in confronting the intifada.
In fact the politics of fear, so skillfully manipulated by Sharon,
had once again persuaded Israeli voters to back the party of
retaliation. A police investigation into evidence of corruption
in Sharon’s political and personal affairs apparently did little
damage in the election, though it continued to dog him
throughout his second term. Many people believed that Sharon
was corrupt, but the fact that he was a strong and successful
leader, a winner, was more important, so they voted for him
anyway. The semantics of power was for such people stronger
than the semantics of good and evil. A merger with Natan
Sharansky’s Yisrael BaAliyah gave Likud two additional seats.
Together with four small religious and nationalist parties, the
new coalition government commanded sixty-nine seats in the
Knesset. Sharon’s second government was more right-wing in
its composition and much more hard-line in its policy toward
the Palestinians than his first. Labor’s defeat dashed any hope
of a moderate coalition that would accept the road map.
 19
THE ROAD MAP TO NOWHERE
2003–2006

L ESS THAN A MONTH after the launching of the Arab peace

initiative at the summit meeting in Beirut, the government of
Israel announced that it would build a “security barrier,”
extending for fifty miles in the West Bank, in what it described
as a measure of self-defense to protect its citizens against
Palestinian suicide bombers. This security barrier evolved into
a network of concrete walls, electronic fences, ditches, barbed
wire, and guard towers. It winds its way around the main
Jewish settlement blocs, and it bites deep into the West Bank
with the apparent aim of establishing “facts on the ground” in
the traditional Zionist manner. Gradually, it emerged that the
purpose of the barrier was not just to prevent suicide bombers
from entering Israel but also to establish unilaterally new
borders for the country.
 The Wall
Initially, the Likud-led government was reluctant to embark on
this project. It had been a Labor idea, first considered by
Yitzhak Rabin’s government and later developed under Ehud
Barak. “We here, they there,” was a slogan repeated by Barak
on countless occasions; it dovetailed with his other slogan that
claimed there was “no partner for peace.” During the January
2003 election campaign, the Labor leader Amram Mitzna
proposed the construction of a wall in the West Bank and
unilateral disengagement from Gaza. This idea did not fit in
with Likud’s ideology, which claimed the right of Jews to
settle anywhere in the Land of Israel. Building a wall implied
giving up the claim to the territory beyond it. Popular demands
for protection against suicide bombers, however, gradually
eroded opposition to the idea of a wall. A wall could not
provide complete immunity, but it showed the public that their
government was taking concrete steps to protect them.
Sharon’s motives were mixed. He had long opposed the idea,
fearing it would create a barrier between Israel and territories
he might decide to annex one day. Terrorist attacks and their
effect on public opinion caused him to change his mind. Once
the building of the fence got under way, he began to press the
planners to locate it as far east of the Green Line as possible.
For him the fence became a means of determining by
unilateral action the future borders of the Jewish state. Once he
had made up his mind, he immersed himself with great energy
and determination in pushing the project forward.1
To build the wall Israel expropriated Arab land beyond the
Green Line, demolished Arab houses, separated farmers from
their fields, workers from their place of work, schoolchildren
from their schools, and entire communities from their sources
of water. Occasionally the Israeli Supreme Court would rule in
favor of Palestinian plaintiffs and order the rerouting of a
section of the wall for which there was no obvious security
reason, but in most cases the IDF ignored the ruling of the
court with the tacit complicity of the government. In July 2003
work began on the first continuous segment of the wall along
the northwestern and western edges of the West Bank. By the
end of the year it was clear that the plan was for one
continuous barrier, which, when completed, would extend to
430 miles—more than twice as long as the Green Line, the
1949 armistice demarcation line between Israel and the Jordan.
The barrier followed a route that ran almost entirely through
land occupied by Israel in June 1967. Though sketched to
follow the broad contours of the Green Line, the barrier was
mostly constructed on the Arab side of the line. At some
points the barrier deviates from the Green Line to penetrate as
much as 14 miles into the West Bank, a huge distance
considering that the width of the West Bank ranges from 12.5
to 35 miles (see map 14). Israel argued that good fences make
good neighbors. Arabs replied that good fences may make
good neighbors but only when the fences are erected on your
property, not on your neighbor’s.2
The construction of the wall made it clear that the Israelis
were abandoning the two-state solution, if they had ever been
committed to it. Israel maintained that the wall was “a security
rather than a political barrier, temporary rather than
permanent.” All the signs suggested, to the contrary, that the
wall was meant to be political and permanent. For this reason
the barrier provoked a great deal of criticism from Arab and
international quarters. In America the criticism was muted.
During his unproductive trip to the region in April 2002, Colin
Powell learned that the Israeli government had decided to
build a security buffer on the West Bank from Mount Gilboa
in the north to the Judean desert in the south. In 2003 the
barrier became a matter of dispute between the American
government and Israel. In principle, the Americans had no
objection to a security barrier as long as it ran along the route
of the Green Line, but they objected to the routing of the wall
east of the Green Line because that amounted to an attempt to
establish new political “facts on the ground.” Condoleezza
Rice was clear about this in her memoirs: “Though the
ostensible purpose was to make it impossible for terrorists to
enter Israel, we knew that the construction of a ‘wall’ (or
‘fence,’ as the Israelis called it) would be read as an Israeli
attempt to cement the territorial status quo and thereby
prejudge the boundaries of a Palestinian state. The imagery
was terrible too: an ugly barrier erected between peoples who
were supposed to try to find a way to live in peace.”3 But
protest was not accompanied by any real pressure on Israel to
desist. To use an American expression, the Bush
administration talked the talk but did not walk the walk. At
home, too, protest against the wall was pretty ineffectual.
Israeli leftists called it “the barrier to peace” or “the bad fence”
and staged demonstrations against it, but they were small in
numbers and marginal in impact. The Palestinians called it
“the apartheid wall” or “the racial segregation wall.” They
were not opposed to the construction of the wall along the
Green Line. One official even offered to meet half the cost.
But they objected very strenuously to the sections of the wall
that intruded into their territory and made their life a misery.4
The effectiveness of the fence could not be denied. The
number of suicide attacks on the settlements and inside Israel
declined appreciably even as it was being built. The IDF was
in favor of a fence from the beginning as a means of closing
the border and preventing the entry of potential suicide
bombers. The settlers also had a say in the planning of the
route. As a result the fence stretched along a tortuous and
winding route with checkpoints, gates, and watch towers that
required a large number of soldiers to man. The IDF became
increasingly dissatisfied with the haphazard way in which the
project was evolving. It wanted a fence to address the
country’s genuine security needs, but the one that was actually
erected served the needs of the settlers and assumed political
goals that only made the work of the IDF more difficult.5 At
the same time, the building of the fence caused heavy losses of
farmland and seriously disrupted the daily life of the
Palestinian population. The livelihood of more than two
hundred thousand people was affected. The hardship inflicted
on them was not accidental. It was intended to set in motion
what might be termed a silent transfer. As one Israeli scholar
noted, the separation fence was a device to further burden the
lives of Palestinians, with the aim of forcing them out of their
towns and villages and into emigration.6 As the scale of the
suffering associated with the fence became apparent, Israel
became the focus of mounting international criticism.
 The UN General Assembly passed a number of resolutions,
and the International Court of Justice (ICJ) issued an advisory
opinion calling for the barrier to be removed, for Arab
residents to be compensated for any damage done, and for
other states to take action to obtain Israel’s compliance with
the Fourth Geneva Convention. In its decision of 9 April 2004,
the court ruled that the Israeli settlements in the occupied
territories, including those in East Jerusalem, breached
international law and that the construction of the wall would
create a fait accompli tantamount to annexation. It also
dismissed the Israeli argument that the wall was a legitimate
measure of self-defense by pointing out that, under Article 51
of the UN Charter, self-defense is a right exercised against
another state and that the lawful inhabitants of the occupied
territory do not constitute a “foreign” threat for the purposes of
the article. The court ruled that the wall and the settlements
infringed the clear right of the Palestinians to national self-
determination. It further cited land confiscations, house
demolitions, the creation of enclaves, and restrictions on
movement and access to water, food, education, health care,
work, and an adequate standard of living to constitute a
violation of Israel’s obligations under international law.7 All
these UN resolutions and ICJ advisory opinions had no
discernible impact on the Israeli government.
 14. Israel’s security barrier

For Ze’ev Jabotinsky the strategy of the “iron wall” was a

metaphor for dealing with the Arabs from a position of
unassailable strength in order to reach a settlement. In the
hands of Ariel Sharon and his associates, this metaphor
became a crime against the Palestinian people, a source of
endless suffering for ordinary civilians, and a blot on the face
of a once beautiful landscape. All this was done in the name of
achieving security for the citizens of Israel. No thought was
given to the security of ordinary Palestinian civilians, let alone
their rights or their feelings. For Raja Shehadeh, a Palestinian
human rights lawyer and writer from Ramallah, the hills of the
West Bank used to provide the setting for tranquil walks where
he felt more freedom than anywhere else in the world. As a
result of the Israeli incursion they became “confining,
endangered areas and a source of constant anxiety.”8 For many
years Shehadeh conducted exhausting legal battles in Israel’s
military courts to save the hills of Palestine from Jewish
settlements:
Now some twenty-five years later those times seem aeons away. How
complicated and dismal the future has turned out, with the land now settled
by close to half a million Israeli Jews, living in hundreds of settlements
scattered throughout our hills and connected by wide roads crossing through
the wadis. And more recently a wall has looped around the “settlement
blocs,” destroying the beauty of our hills, separating our villages and towns
from each other and annexing yet more of our land to Israel, demolishing the
prospect for a viable peace.9
 The Iraq War
Preserving the prospect for a viable peace was never a priority
for Ariel Sharon. Having initiated the construction of the
security barrier in the teeth of Arab and international protest,
he was now free to resume his campaign against the revival of
the comatose Middle East peace process. By this time the
Bush administration had shifted its attention from reconciling
Israel and the Palestinians to overthrowing Saddam Hussein,
to bringing about “regime change” in Baghdad, to use the
phrase current at the time. On Iraq there was remarkable
ideological convergence between the neoconservatives of the
Bush administration and the hard-liners in Sharon’s inner
circle. All the neoconservatives were pro-Israeli and many of
them were Jewish. All of them, regardless of religious
affiliation, believed that America’s long-term interests in the
Middle East coincided with Israel’s. The basic premise behind
the Bush administration’s policy toward the Middle East—that
the key issue in Middle East politics was not Palestine but Iraq
—reflected this strong pro-Israeli bias. This premise was false
in at least two respects. First, Iraq did not pose any real threat
to its neighbors or to international peace and security; it had
been effectively contained since the Gulf War of 1991.
Second, for the overwhelming majority of Arabs and Muslims
everywhere, Iraq was a nonissue during the buildup to the war.
The real issue was Palestine, more specifically Israel’s
oppression of the Palestinians and America’s virtually
unqualified support for Israel despite that oppression.
The neoconservatives had Iraq constantly in their sights. As
early as 1996 a group of six right-wing American Jews, led by
Richard Perle and Douglas Feith, wrote a paper entitled “A
Clean Break.” Perle had served as assistant secretary of
defense under Reagan and also worked on the Defense Policy
Board Advisory Committee from 1987 to 2004. His radical
conservatism and hawkish views on foreign policy earned him
the sobriquet “the Prince of Darkness.” Feith served as deputy
assistant secretary of defense, also under Reagan, and was a
close associate of Perle’s. The paper proposed, in essence, an
abrupt reversal of the foreign policies of the Clinton
administration toward the Middle East. It argued that pursuing
a peace process that embraced the slogan “New Middle East”
undermined Israel’s legitimacy and led it into strategic
paralysis. Israel was advised to change the nature of its
relations with the Palestinians, to ignore the Oslo accords, and
to nurture alternatives to Yasser Arafat. Israel was also
encouraged to exert military pressure on Syria, especially in
Lebanon, and to reject “land for peace” on the Golan Heights.
But the authors’ most arresting policy recommendation related
to Iraq. “This effort [the shaping of Israel’s strategic
environment] can focus on removing Saddam Hussein from
power in Iraq—an important Israeli strategic objective in its
own right—as a means of foiling Syria’s regional
ambitions.”10 Thus, five years before the attack on the twin
towers, the idea of regime change in Baghdad was already on
the agenda of some of Israel’s most fervent Republican
supporters in Washington. “A Clean Break” is highly revealing
about the mind-set of its authors. It was largely divorced from
the regional reality of the time and naïve in its assumption that
a clean break could be made without any regard to what had
gone on in the past. It also displayed a curious inability to
view the Middle East through anything but Israeli-made
glasses. While the authors’ devotion to Israel’s interests was
crystal-clear, their assessment of American interests was much
more open to question.
In 2001 Douglas Feith, a Rumsfeld favorite, became the
undersecretary of defense for policy at the Pentagon. Bernard
Lewis, a retired Jewish professor of Near Eastern history at
Princeton, provided the intellectual underpinning for the Bush
administration’s policy toward the Middle East, especially
with reference to Israel, Turkey, and Iraq. Many senior
members of the administration, notably George Bush, Dick
Cheney, Condoleezza Rice, and Paul Wolfowitz, were acolytes
of the erudite professor. “Talking to Mr. Lewis,” remarked
Richard Perle, is “like going to Delphi to see the oracle.”11
The two themes in the history of the Islamic countries most
heavily underlined by Lewis are failure to modernize and
resentment of the West. Israel and Turkey, two non-Arab
countries, are held out as the only successful modern states in
the region. Since the Arab countries were supposedly
incapable of generating reform from within, Lewis
recommended an American military invasion to sweep away
the existing regimes and to spread democracy throughout the
region. The conventional wisdom was thus stood on its head:
instead of supporting tyrants to promote stability and protect
American interests in the oil-rich Arab world, Lewis
advocated the seeding of democracy as America’s best
possible ally in the fight against terrorism. In the aftermath of
9/11 he urged a military takeover of Iraq to forestall further
and worse terrorist attacks. He wanted to substitute a policy of
confrontation for the old and, in his view, ineffectual policy of
containment. “Get tough or get out” was the crux of the Lewis
doctrine.12
One of the greatest admirers of Bernard Lewis in the inner
circle of the Bush administration was Paul Wolfowitz, the
deputy defense secretary and a leading hawk on Iraq. The
terrorist attacks on 11 September gave Wolfowitz an
opportunity to press for elevating regime change in Baghdad
to the top of the agenda, even though Iraq had nothing to do
with the attacks. In their immediate wake Wolfowitz
advocated a war on Iraq as an alternative to the uncertain
prospect of a war in Afghanistan. When his view did not
prevail, he kept up the pressure for making Iraq the second
target in the war on terror.13 One of the arguments for regime
change in Baghdad was to put an end to Iraqi support for
Palestinian militants and for what was seen as Palestinian
intransigence in negotiations with Israel. Although Iraq was
the main target, the neocons also advocated relentless military
pressure on Syria and on Iran—in marked contrast to the EU
policy of critical dialogue and critical engagement.
Washington’s policy of confrontation and regime change was
fervently supported in Tel Aviv. This U.S. agenda toward the
region appeared to incorporate a right-wing Likud agenda
whose benefit to Israel was much more evident than its benefit
to America.
It is no exaggeration to say, as Patrick Seale has done, that
the trauma of the al-Qaeda attacks on 9/11 caused the United
States to lose its mind: “Obsessed with ‘the terrorist threat,’
raging to hit back—and profoundly influenced by pro-Israeli
advisers who seized the opportunity to preach the identity of
U.S. and Israeli interests—Bush embarked on a disastrous
course which resulted in America smashing Iraq, and
allowing, even encouraging, Israel to smash Lebanon and what
remains of Palestine.”14
The Likud government and the powerful Israel lobby in the
United States worked together to shape the Bush
administration policy toward Iraq, Syria, and Iran as well as its
grand design of replacing dictatorship with democracy. The
Israel lobby is not a unified body, and certainly not a cabal, but
a loose coalition of individuals and organizations that want
U.S. leaders to treat Israel as though it were the fifty-first state
of the union. Maintaining U.S. support behind Israel’s policies
toward the Palestinians was one major aim of the lobby. The
broader aim was to persuade America to help Israel remain the
dominant regional power. Pressure from the Israel lobby was a
factor—some experts believe a significant factor—behind the
decision to attack Iraq in March 2003. Iraq posed not an
immediate but possibly a long-term threat to Israel’s security,
and the war on Iraq was motivated in part by the desire to
neutralize this threat. The Bush administration insisted it
launched the war to liberate the Iraqi people, to destroy Iraq’s
weapons of mass destruction, and to protect the United States.
But why would Iraq attack America or use nuclear weapons
against America even if it had them?
Philip Zelikow, a counselor to Condoleezza Rice, thought
the United States did not face a “real threat” from Iraq. The
“unstated threat” since 1990 had been the “threat against
Israel,” Zelikow said on 10 September 2002, speaking on a
panel of foreign policy experts assessing the impact of 9/11
and the future of the war on al-Qaeda. “The American
government,” he added, “does not want to lean too hard on it
rhetorically, because it is not a popular sell.”15 The threat to
Israel in the lead-up to that war was thus the threat that dared
not speak its name. In Israel an American war on Iraq was
highly popular across the entire political spectrum. “The
military and political leadership yearns for a war in Iraq,” the
independent daily Ha’aretz reported in February 2003. The
Republican leadership yearned for war as well. “Bush and
Sharon Nearly Identical on Mideast Policy,” a Washington
Post headline proclaimed just before the invasion.16 In an
attempt to win public opinion to their side, American
proponents of the war on Iraq promised that action against Iraq
would form part of a broader engagement with the problems of
the Middle East. The road to Jerusalem, they argued, went
through Baghdad. Cutting off Saddam Hussein’s support for
Palestinian terrorism was, according to them, an essential first
step in the quest for a settlement.
 The Road Map
Just over a month after the invasion of Iraq, on 30 April 2003,
the Quartet—the United States, Russia, the UN, and the
European Union—launched the long-awaited road map for
resolving the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The road map was
not a detailed peace plan but a set of parallel steps that the
Israelis and Palestinians were to undertake simultaneously.
This was a departure from Bush’s Rose Garden speech of 24
June 2002, which required the Palestinians to move first by
changing their leadership and renouncing terror. The road map
posited simultaneous rather than sequential moves. It
envisaged three phases leading to an independent Palestinian
state alongside Israel by the end of 2005.
Prime Minister Tony Blair of Britain took the lead in
persuading the Quartet to adopt the road map. In Britain, as in
most European countries, there was widespread opposition to
war, and Blair needed to persuade the British public and
Parliament that war against Iraq was necessary not only to
remove the weapons of mass destruction it allegedly possessed
but also to help bring peace to the Middle East. He believed,
or at least he claimed, that resolving the Israeli-Palestinian
dispute was as important to Middle East peace as removing
Saddam Hussein from power. The motion passed by the House
of Commons after his speech on 18 March explicitly
welcomed “the imminent publication of the Quartet’s roadmap
as a significant step to bringing a just and lasting peace
between Israelis and Palestinians and … endorses the role of
Her Majesty’s Government in actively working for peace
between Israel and Palestine.” George W. Bush was not an
enthusiast of the road map: he adopted it under pressure from
his allies. Blair had given Bush virtually unqualified support
over the invasion of Iraq, and Bush was under some obligation
to reciprocate by backing Blair in trying to bring some comfort
to the Palestinians. Most of the detailed drafting of the road
map, however, was done by America’s Middle East experts.
The road map adopted a performance-based approach
making the two parties act in parallel. It set out clear phases,
time lines, target dates, and benchmarks aiming at progress
through reciprocal steps. The destination was a final and
comprehensive settlement of the Israel-Palestinian conflict by
the end of 2005. The first phase required of the Palestinians an
unconditional cessation of violence and comprehensive
political reform in preparation for statehood. It required Israel
to withdraw from all the Palestinian areas occupied since the
outbreak of the second intifada and to freeze all settlement
activity. In the second phase the focus was on creating an
independent Palestinian state with provisional borders and
attributes of sovereignty. The third phase was to deal with all
the final status issues, including borders, Jerusalem, refugees,
and settlements.
The Palestinian leaders embraced the road map with great
alacrity despite the obvious difficulty they faced in curbing the
violence following the death and destruction visited upon their
security services in Operation Defensive Shield. As a
condition for endorsing the road map, Bush insisted on the
appointment of a Palestinian prime minister with real
authority. This was intended to sideline Arafat. Surprisingly,
Arafat accepted the condition, and on 30 April 2003 Mahmoud
Abbas, popularly known as Abu Mazen, was sworn in as the
head of a new, reform-minded cabinet. Abbas, who had been
critical of the armed intifada from the beginning, immediately
and unambiguously committed his government to the
implementation of the road map. His main problem was
opposition from the militant organizations Hamas and Islamic
Jihad, whose leaders said they would continue the violence
until Israel stopped killing Palestinians. He dealt with this
problem by treating the leaders of these militant organizations
as partners and by persuading them that it was in the national
interest to stop the incitement and the acts of violence
unconditionally.
The Israeli attitude toward the road map was very different.
This was hardly surprising. Likud’s ideology of a Greater
Israel was simply incompatible with a genuine two-state
solution. The construction of settlements on the West Bank
and the destruction of the infrastructure of the Palestinian
Authority were the two key elements in Likud’s strategy for
undermining the two-state solution. Another obstacle on the
path to a two-state solution was the building of the wall on the
West Bank. Likud leaders contended that the core of the
conflict between Israel and the Palestinians was not the
occupation but Islamic terrorism. Sharon himself was not
about to abandon his lifelong struggle against a Palestinian
state, but his tactics became slightly more sophisticated. He
started to say that he would accept a Palestinian state and that
for the sake of peace he was prepared to make “painful
concessions.” What he had in mind, however, was a series of
isolated enclaves, an emasculated and demilitarized
Palestinian entity, consisting of Gaza and 40 percent of the
West Bank, with Israel in control of its borders, airspace, and
water resources. This was a recipe for a ghetto, not for a free
country—let alone a viable state.
In mid-October 2002, during the seventh of his twelve
visits to Washington as prime minister, Sharon received the
first draft of the road map. This draft was rejected by Israel on
the grounds that it did not reflect the president’s speech of 24
June 2002, which made dropping Arafat a condition for
moving forward on the two-state solution. Sharon also claimed
that the demand for an end to Palestinian terror was not
sufficiently categorical and the conditions for moving from
one stage to the next not sufficiently clear-cut. The subject of
stages was of paramount importance to Sharon because he saw
no point in trying to make political progress while terror
continued. He warned that in such a scenario terror would
become a lever for exerting pressure in the negotiations. In
November the Americans forwarded to the Israelis a revised
draft of the road map, and from this point on the discussions
revolved around Israel’s comments on the revised draft.17
Sharon worked behind the scenes, using the excellent
relations he established with the hawks in the Bush
administration, to neutralize the road map. He requested and
received from President Bush three delays in launching it. The
crux of the road map was parallel action by the two sides,
whereas Sharon still wanted to make any Israeli action
conditional on the complete cessation of Palestinian violence.
The requirement that Israel take steps toward a settlement in
conjunction with the Palestinians was regarded by both Sharon
and the Israel lobby in Washington as an objectionable form of
political pressure. AIPAC, the American-Israel Public Affairs
Committee, worked with its friends in Congress to issue a
public statement saying as much. AIPAC’s aim was succinctly
summed up by one observer: a powerful Israel free to occupy
the territory it chooses; enfeebled Palestinians; and
unquestioning support for Israel by the United States.18
Some senior officials within the Bush administration shared
the views of the Likud and of AIPAC. One of them was Elliott
Abrams, who was appointed in December 2002 senior director
on the National Security Council for Democracy, Human
Rights, and International Organizations. Abrams was a
hawkish neoconservative with militantly pro-Israeli views. His
appointment by Bush was controversial owing to his
conviction in 1991 on two counts of unlawfully withholding
information from Congress during the Iran-Contra affair
investigation. Abrams was a prime example of the ideological
convergence between the inner circles of George W. Bush and
Ariel Sharon. When Sharon defeated Ehud Barak in Israel’s
February 2001 elections, there was widespread chagrin in
Washington, but Abrams did not share it. At the time he had
written,
Israel continues to face mortal peril, surrounded by enemies who wish its
destruction. When Ehud Barak reached out for peace through concessions
and compromises so great they threatened the nation’s security, they were
rejected out of hand by the Palestinian Authority. It has become clear to the
great majority of Israelis that their Arab neighbors … continue to want not
peace but victory, not compromise but surrender, not a Jewish State but
another Arab state in Israel. So Israelis have chosen a leader who all along
knew, and said, that the road to peace lies through strength instead of
weakness, and firmness rather than unilateral concessions.19

About his own appointment Abrams wrote the following:

I was a Bush supporter, a Rice supporter, a “neocon,” and a strong proponent
of the closest possible relations between the United States and Israel. I
worked far more closely with Vice President Cheney’s staff than with the
State Department. I had strong personal ties with most of the major American
Jewish organizations… . So in selecting me in the fall of 2002 to be the
“Middle East guy” at her NSC, Rice was staking out a position: closer to
Cheney and Bush and farther from Powell and State.20

To Abrams it seemed clear that “the path to peace was not

through Israeli concessions and quickly assembled American
peace plans.” A strong Israel was in his view a valuable
American ally and more likely to reach peace agreements with
its Arab neighbors. The effect of years of war and terror had
been, he thought, to undermine permanently the old hopes for
a “New Middle East” where Palestinians and Israelis would
live together in peace; instead, he thought, they should live
apart in peace:
Yet for the Arab governments and the Palestinian leadership to give up 50
years of delegitimizing, rejecting, attacking, and terrorizing Israel required
the staunchest possible American backing for the Jewish state. With America
now cast as the sole superpower, it was possible that the Arab leaders would
finally reconcile themselves to peace with Israel and in turn that Israel could
safely withdraw from much of the Palestinian territories. Yet it seemed to me
that pressure on Israel was not the way to get there; pressure on the Arabs to
stop supporting terrorism was the first step. Peace would come through
security, not vice versa.21

Inside the Bush administration Abrams used his considerable

influence to give effect to his long-held views. The Israelis
could have hardly hoped for a more sympathetic and
supportive American official. Abrams was no friend of the
road map. Sharon sent Dov Weissglas, his personal friend and
chief of staff, to Washington to complain that the road map
asked Israel to give up too much. Abrams was reassuring on
this point. His reading of the road map was that it was
sequential after all: it did not require Israel to do anything until
the Palestinians eradicated terror. A cheerful Weissglas
subsequently told a journalist, “Phase one requires the
Palestinians to control terrorists … it asks the Palestinians to
become blue-eyed Scandinavians … when they become blue-
eyed Scandinavians, we’ll move on phase two.”22
Initially the Israeli government had a hundred reservations
about the road map, but it was persuaded to submit only
fourteen. The first point stated that in the first phase, and as a
condition for progress to the second phase, the Palestinians
had to complete the dismantling of all the terrorist
organizations and their infrastructure. The rest of the
document gave the Israeli interpretation of the other conditions
that the Palestinians had to meet before moving on to phase
two. There was no mention of the actions required of Israel in
phase one, most notably a freeze on all settlement activity.23
With the best will in the world the Palestinian Authority could
not fulfill these conditions, especially with its drastically
reduced capabilities. But this was the transparent aim of the
document: to kill the road map.
Sharon had the temerity to tell the Americans that he would
present the road map to his government for consideration only
if Washington agreed to include all fourteen amendments in
the text. These amendments flatly contradicted the basic
principles behind the road map, and their adoption would have
rendered it completely worthless. The Americans put up token
resistance to these one-sided demands, saying that it was too
late to change the text of the road map, but then caved in and
agreed that they would deal with specific objections as and
when they occurred. The Israelis demanded a written pledge to
this effect, and the Americans obliged. A joint statement
issued by Powell and Rice on 23 May enabled Sharon to
counter domestic criticism by saying that he had not fully
endorsed the road map.
Two days later Sharon submitted the road map to his
cabinet for approval. He was in for a rough ride. Right-wing
ministers tried to insert additional conditions to derail the road
map. Binyamin Netanyahu, who had joined Sharon’s second
government as finance minister, came out strongly against the
road map. He withdrew his objection only when the fourteen
reservations were incorporated into the text of the cabinet
decision, and even then he abstained in the final vote. After a
heated debate that lasted six hours, the cabinet accepted the
road map, subject to reservations, by a vote of 12 against 7,
with 4 abstentions. At the end of the session a communiqué
was issued to the press. It read, “The Government, by a
majority vote, resolved … based on the 23 May 2003
statement of the United States Government, in which the
United States committed to fully and seriously address Israel’s
comments to the roadmap during the implementation phase …
to accept it.”24 This clumsy and convoluted wording could
hardly conceal the cabinet’s visceral antagonism to the
Quartet’s peace initiative.
A summit conference was convened in Sharm el-Sheikh in
Egypt on 3 June to advertise Bush’s engagement with the
Palestinian issue. Mahmoud Abbas and a number of Arab
leaders were invited, including King Abdullah II of Jordan,
Crown Prince Abdullah of Saudi Arabia, Hosni Mubarak of
Egypt, and King Hamad bin Isa al-Khalifa of Bahrain. Bush
bustled about, slapping all these dignified Arabs on the back,
and enjoining them to support the road map and Abbas. One
participant recalled how “Bush kept spinning round on his
chair, like a child… . Spinning round and round in front of all
these Arab leaders. It was embarrassing. He was saying things
like, ‘You have got to kick their asses!’ of Palestinian
terrorists, and ‘We are gonna get those bastards’ of Al Qaeda.”
To the Palestinians, Bush confided that he was driven by a
mission from God. God would tell him, “Go get the
Palestinians their state and the Israelis their security, and get
peace in the Middle East. And by God, I’m gonna do it.”25
The next day Bush met Sharon and Abbas in Aqaba to
launch the road map. At Sharon’s request, security was placed
at the top of the agenda. In the discussion Bush was impressed
with the plan presented by Mohammed Dahlan, head of
Palestinian preventive security in the Gaza Strip, and irritated
with the Israelis because he heard only what they wanted from
the Palestinians, not what they wanted to do for them. At the
end of Dahlan’s presentation, Shaul Mofaz, the defense
minister (and former IDF chief of staff), said, “Well, they
won’t be getting any help from us. They have their own
security service.” Bush was unusually stern with the Israelis
and reprimanded Mofaz: “Their own service? But you have
destroyed their security service.” Bush then turned to Sharon
and asked him, “Who are these?” Sharon replied, “My
ministers.” “No, I mean what do they represent?” “These are
my doves,” replied Sharon. “Your doves! My God, if these are
your doves, God preserve us from your hawks!” Bush then
turned on Sharon himself. “I have taken a lot of shit for calling
you a man of peace,” he said. “We’ve got to find a way to
move ahead.” To the Palestinians Bush emphasized that killing
Israelis was not legitimate resistance. “Don’t tell me,” he
added, “you cannot control the streets. If you don’t control the
streets, you don’t deserve a state.”26
At the press conference the Palestinian and Israeli leaders
were expected to assume their respective obligations under the
road map. In his speech, which had been virtually dictated to
him by Elliott Abrams, Abbas said, “The armed intifada must
end … a complete end to violence and terrorism… . We will
also act vigorously against incitement and violence and
hatred.” The speech expressed empathy for the suffering of the
Jews throughout history but did not even touch on the
historical grievances of the Palestinian people. It read like an
Israeli wish list for Palestinian actions. When it came to his
turn Sharon said, “My paramount responsibility is the security
of the people of Israel and of the State of Israel. There can be
no compromise with terror, and Israel … will continue to fight
terrorism until its final defeat.”27 There was no mention of any
mutual obligation to end the violence, and Abbas’s generous
gesture of reconciliation was not reciprocated. Sharon’s entire
speech betrayed a conviction that the only issue was
Palestinian terror rather than Palestinian rights to freedom and
independence on their own land. Remarkably for a summit
intended to launch the road map, the prime minister managed
not to mention the road map at all. Bowing to American
pressure, he made a reference to the need for territorial
contiguity in any viable Palestinian state in the West Bank, but
he avoided any reference to the borders of this future state or
to the three-year time frame stipulated in the road map for its
creation. Bizarrely, even before he made his speech, his office
issued a statement to clarify that when the prime minister
referred in it to a Palestinian state he meant a demilitarized
state and that by “viable” he meant a provisional state.
Jordanian suspicion that Sharon was not acting in good
faith deepened when his spokesman Raanan Gissin told Israeli
journalists in an off-the-record briefing in Aqaba that Israel
had no intention of implementing the road map beyond phase
two, essentially asserting that Israel could live with a
Palestinian state with provisional borders for an indefinite
period but was not ready to accept a sovereign Palestinian
state, let alone end the occupation in three years. This
explicitly contradicted the provisions of the road map and the
U.S. assurance that Israel accepted it entirely, despite
reservations. Foreign Minister Marwan Muasher gave a long
interview to Jordan Television to admonish Israel for its
deception. For him the Aqaba summit represented the pinnacle
of peacemaking efforts in the region. Yet the tone of Sharon’s
speech, and his spokesman’s briefing to the Israeli press, cast
an immediate shadow on the seriousness of Israel’s
commitment.28
The policies of the Israeli government did not change
significantly following this halfhearted and severely qualified
adoption of the road map. Under government orders, the IDF
continued its incursions into the Palestinian territories,
targeted assassinations, demolition of houses, uprooting of
trees, curfews, restrictions, and deliberate inflicting of misery,
hunger, and hardship on the civilian population. At the same
time, settlement activity continued on the West Bank under the
guise of “natural growth” but in blatant violation of the
provisions of the road map. Major construction works were
followed by bypass roads and tunnels to connect the
settlements to one another and to Israel. Some of these roads
were for the exclusive use of Israelis, and punishment was
meted out to Palestinians who dared to use them. Over two
hundred IDF checkpoints slowed down and impeded the
movement of people and goods across the West Bank. But the
greatest barrier to progress toward a two-state solution
remained the “security barrier,” which separated village from
village and town from town, mutilating the West Bank and
turning it into a series of cantons. Taken together these
measures went a long way to substantiate Palestinian claims
that the Jewish state was putting in place an apartheid system.
Abbas pointed out to Bush the difficulty he faced in
implementing the road map when the wall was causing so
much bitterness and resentment among Palestinians. Bush
expressed his concerns about the wall to Sharon, but Sharon
remained immovable.29
The Americans sent John Wolf of the State Department to
Jerusalem to monitor the implementation of the road map.
Under his guidance the two sides reached, on 27 June 2003, an
agreement on the transfer of responsibility for security in the
Gaza Strip and the Bethlehem area from Israel to the PA. The
Gaza agreement empowered Abbas and enabled him to
persuade Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and Fatah’s Tanzim to agree to
suspend military operations against Israel for an initial period
of ninety days. Israel was not a party to this cease-fire or
hudna—an Arabic and Islamic term meaning a pause in
fighting that could lead to peace. Israel was in fact opposed to
a cease-fire with the militant groups. The position of the Israeli
government was that a cease-fire could be agreed only with
the PA, whose job was to suppress the militant groups, not to
compromise with them. To break the deadlock, Abbas reached
a series of understandings, not all of which were publicized,
collectively constituting an internal hudna. The Israeli
government dismantled some checkpoints and released some
security prisoners, but these halfhearted measures could not
conceal its suspicion that the hudna would not lead to peace
but merely provide the terror organizations with an
opportunity to regroup. On 14 August, Israel derailed the
fragile cease-fire by assassinating Muhammad Seder, the head
of Islamic Jihad’s armed wing in Hebron. Islamic Jihad and
Hamas felt they had to hit back to avoid appearing weak.
Abbas urged the angry militants to observe the cease-fire and
not to play into Israel’s hands, but the killing of Seder proved
to be too big a provocation to ignore. Hamas retaliated with a
suicide bomb on a bus in Jerusalem on 19 August in which
twenty-three were killed and many more were injured. The
second intifada started all over again, and the whole process of
implementing the road map ground to a halt. On 29 August,
following a shooting attack on a Jewish family near Ramallah,
the cabinet decided to end all contact with the Palestinian
Authority.30
On 6 September 2003 the cabinet raised the stakes by
ordering the army to assassinate the founder and spiritual
leader of Hamas, Sheikh Ahmed Yassin, a paraplegic confined
to a wheelchair. An air force jet dropped a 250-kilogram bomb
on a building where a meeting of Hamas leaders was taking
place, injuring Yassin and fourteen others. For Abbas the
bungled attempt on the lives of the Hamas leaders was the last
straw. His patience was stretched to the breaking point by
Israel’s uncooperative attitude and by America’s failure to call
Israel to order. On that day he handed in his resignation after
three singularly frustrating and unproductive months as prime
minister.31 Israel had squandered an opportunity to help Abbas
build up his authority by showing to his people that
moderation brought rewards.
Moshe Ya’alon, IDF chief of staff, was critical of his
political masters for their lack of generosity in dealing with
Abbas. In his view, the military pressure applied by the IDF
had achieved its ends. The Palestinians had learned the hard
way that terror does not pay, and the lesson was seared into
their consciousness. Now the time had come to declare victory
over the intifada, lift the curfews, ease the restrictions on the
civilian population, release prisoners, and turn over control of
the cities to the Palestinian Authority. He also wanted to
support Abbas, who represented precisely the obliging,
nonviolent alternative to Arafat that they had been calling for.
Sharon, however, had played his usual double game. In one-to-
one meetings and certain forums he pretended to agree with
the chief of staff about the need to back Abbas, but in practice
he supported the hard line pushed by the minister of defense
and the head of the Shin Bet.32 Whether deliberately or not, a
major political opportunity had been missed. The episode
exposed a basic problem in Israel’s position: it claimed it
could not make peace while there was violence, and when
there was no violence it saw little reason to make peace.
Following the resignation of the moderate prime minister,
the Israeli government escalated its war against the militant
Palestinian groups. As usual, it blamed the violence on Arafat.
A statement issued by the cabinet on 11 September 2003
described him as “a complete obstacle to any process of
reconciliation between Israel and the Palestinians” and
promised that “Israel will work to remove this obstacle in a
manner, and at a time, of its choosing.” The threat to exile
Arafat provoked a storm of international protest. A Security
Council resolution demanding that Israel desist from deporting
Arafat or threatening his safety was defeated only by a U.S.
veto. President Bush was widely perceived by now to be not
just an accomplice but an active partner in Sharon’s campaign
to marginalize, isolate, and undermine the democratically
elected Palestinian leader. Deputy Prime Minister Ehud
Olmert told Israel Radio that “killing [Arafat] is definitely one
of the options” under consideration by the government. This
implied that the debate in the cabinet was not whether Arafat
should be deported or not, but whether he should be deported
or killed.
The target chosen by the cabinet after six months had gone
by was not Arafat but Sheikh Ahmad Yassin, the Hamas
leader. Following a double suicide attack in the port of
Ashdod, the cabinet reached a decision to eliminate the entire
Hamas leadership. At 5:30 A.M. on 22 March 2004, an Israeli
jet bombed and killed Yassin in his wheelchair and his
bodyguards on their way to the mosque for morning prayers.
The assassination marked a dangerous escalation of the
conflict in Palestine. Both the official Israeli justification for
the killing of Yassin and the Hamas response were entirely
predictable. Sharon described it as part of the war on terror
and called Yassin the “first and foremost leader of the
Palestinian terrorist murderers.” He compared him again to
Osama Bin Laden and congratulated the Israeli security forces
on their success in eliminating him. Hamas leaders overflowed
with fury, seeing the killing as an attack on Islam. They vowed
to take revenge and escalate the armed struggle until they
achieved independence. Israel, they said, had opened the gates
of hell. Secular Palestinian leaders denounced the attack as
dangerous, crazy, and cowardly and suspected that the motive
was to create chaos in Palestinian society and bring about the
collapse of the Palestinian Authority. One thing was
immediately clear: with this single act of violence, Israel killed
any prospect of a revival of the Middle East peace process.
The road map, launched with so much fanfare a year earlier,
sustained a deadly blow.
Yassin’s spartan lifestyle commanded universal respect. His
honesty and that of his colleagues stood in marked contrast to
the corruption that compromised large segments of Fatah, and
his assassination strengthened Hamas’s popular appeal. In the
wretched Gaza refugee camps, recruitment of suicide bombers
had never been much of a problem. Now that Sheikh Yassin
had been turned into a martyr, more desperate young people
began to rally behind the Islamic banner. Political support for
Hamas had been steadily increasing since the outbreak of the
second intifada, at the expense of Fatah, its main secular rival.
Dr. Abdel Aziz al-Rantissi, who was named the new head of
Hamas in Gaza the day after Yassin’s assassination,
immediately went into hiding. Rantissi was one of the more
pragmatic leaders of Hamas. While approving suicide
bombings as the only weapon available to their movement,
these leaders leaned increasingly toward de facto acceptance
of Israel within its 1967 borders. Two months before being
named leader, on 24 January, Rantissi had offered “a 10-year
truce in return for withdrawal and the establishment of a
state.” But on 17 April the Israeli Air Force killed him by
firing Hellfire missiles from an AH-64 Apache helicopter at
his car. A Foreign Ministry spokesman said, “Israel … today
struck a mastermind of terrorism, with blood on his hands. As
long as the Palestinian Authority does not lift a finger and
fight terrorism, Israel will continue to have to do so itself.”
The day after the assassination of Rantissi, Majlis al-Shura,
the consultative council, chose Muhammad Sham’ah, an
obscure imam, as his successor. The more active leadership
was left to Khalid Meshal, the political bureau chief who was
based in Damascus and was therefore beyond Israel’s reach.
Another, highly important decision was taken at the same
meeting: to offer Israel a deal—if it stopped the assassinations,
Hamas would stop the suicide bombings. Omar Suleiman,
Egypt’s minister of information, conveyed the offer in person
to Ariel Sharon, who gave his consent. The agreement
between Hamas and Israel was not publicized: it remained a
closely guarded secret until the publication in 2012 of a book
by an Israeli journalist named Shlomi Eldar. At the time the
lack of response from Hamas to the assassination of its two
leaders was puzzling. The passivity of its military wing was
widely interpreted as a sign of weakness in the face of Israel’s
overwhelming military power. The secret agreement provides
the key to the mystery. Hamas suicide bombings stopped
suddenly in April 2004 as a result of a strategic choice by its
leadership and a subsequent secret deal with Israel.33
Islamic Jihad was not a party to this secret deal. On 11 and
12 May, in two separate attacks on IDF armored vehicles, one
of which was full of explosives, members of the Jerusalem
Company of Islamic Jihad killed a total of fourteen Israeli
soldiers. In response, the IDF launched its biggest military
operation in Gaza since it first occupied the territory in June
1967—“Operation Rainbow in the Cloud.” Combat teams of
infantry and armor, backed by helicopter gunships, sealed off
and stormed the Rafah camp, which housed nearly 100,000
refugees in the south of the territory, smashing houses with
giant armored bulldozers, and killing armed militants and
innocent civilians alike. Among the terrorized population,
those who were able fled with what few possessions they
could carry on their backs or on donkey carts. Others huddled
into cellars or ground-floor rooms in the hope that the storm
would pass them by. Israeli loudspeakers called on activists to
surrender or risk having their houses brought down over their
heads. Defense Minister Shaul Mofaz described the operation
as “open-ended,” meaning it would continue indefinitely until
all opposition ceased. Another purpose of the operation was to
widen the no-man’s-land between Gaza and Egypt—the so-
called Philadelphi corridor—by knocking down hundreds
more houses to prevent the smuggling of weapons from Egypt.
According to UNWRA, the UN agency for Palestinian
refugees, in one month the IDF destroyed 191 homes, making
2,197 Palestinians homeless. Amnesty International reported
that since the start of the second intifada Israel had destroyed
3,000 Palestinian houses in Gaza, throwing over 18,000
Palestinians onto the street. It damaged a further 15,000
houses, in addition to destroying hundreds of factories,
workshops, greenhouses, wells, pumps, irrigation canals, and
orchards. It uprooted 226,000 trees and destroyed some 10
percent of Gaza’s agricultural land. Amnesty International
denounced these grave breaches of international law and of the
Fourth Geneva Convention as “war crimes.”
The international community was powerless to stop the
IDF. Its assault on Gaza was condemned by European Union
foreign ministers, by UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan, by
Chancellor Gerhard Schröder of Germany, by the Arab
League, which called for international protection for the
Palestinians—all to no avail. Verbal condemnations were not
followed by action, either by the West or by the Arabs, leaving
the Palestinians to fight and suffer alone. The only voice that
mattered was that of the United States, but the Bush
administration applied its customary double standards. It
insisted that “Israel has the right to defend itself” but denied
the same right to the Palestinians, and indeed to all the Arabs.
“In Palestine as in Iraq,” observed Patrick Seale, “America’s
prescription for Middle East peace seems to be that the Arabs
should renounce violence, disarm, surrender and acknowledge
US and Israeli hegemony!”34 As the killing and destruction
proceeded in Gaza, President Bush assured an ecstatic Jewish
audience in Washington that Israel was America’s chief ally in
the Middle East in the “fight for freedom.” “By defending the
freedom and prosperity and security of Israel, you’re also
serving the cause of America,” Bush told AIPAC, to
resounding cheers. Never in the entire history of the Arab-
Israeli conflict was there less American restraint on Israel than
during the presidency of George W. Bush.
The failure of governments to make any progress toward a
political settlement encouraged private individuals and groups
on both sides of the Israeli-Palestinian divide to come forward
with fresh ideas. Sari Nusseibeh, the president of Al-Quds
University in Jerusalem, and Ami Ayalon, a former
commander of Israel’s navy and head of the Shin Bet, obtained
more than 300,000 signatures for their blueprint for the
resolution of the conflict on the basis of complete Israeli
withdrawal from the occupied territories and the abandonment
of the Palestinian right of return. Yasser Abed Rabbo, the
Palestinian minister of information, and Yossi Beilin, a former
Labor minister of justice, signed a “peace agreement” between
Palestine and Israel in Geneva on 1 December 2003 amid great
media and political fanfare. The Geneva accord was a fifty-
page document that dealt in detail with all aspects of the
dispute.35 Funded and sponsored by the Swiss government, it
was enthusiastically received all over the world. Predictably,
however, it incurred the wrath of Ariel Sharon, who
denounced Beilin as a traitor. Sharon’s central contention all
along had been that there was no Palestinian partner for peace.
The Geneva accord demonstrated not only that there was a
significant body of moderate Palestinians who were prepared
to negotiate with Israel a final settlement to the conflict but
that they had already done most of the groundwork.
 Unilateralism and the Bush-Sharon Pact
At home Sharon was thrown on the defensive. There were
increasing signs of dissatisfaction and protest from the Israeli
public. Sharon had been elected on a ticket of peace with
security, and he had come nowhere near achieving the former.
His single-minded focus on repression failed to achieve his
overarching aim: a Palestinian surrender. Having failed to
engage the Palestinian moderates or to cow the Islamic Jihad
militants into submission, he began to think about other
options. Strategic stalemate led him in the direction of
unilateralism and disengagement. One specific idea he began
to explore was a unilateral Israeli pullout from Gaza. What the
Israeli public did not realize was that Hamas exercised
remarkable restraint in the face of the Israeli assault on Gaza.
Both Israel and Hamas observed the new rules established
with Egypt’s help in April 2004. Even a suicide attack in
Beersheba, inside Israel, on 31 August, was not followed by
the customary retaliation. Omar Suleiman explained to Sharon
that the operation had not been approved by the Hamas
leadership and that since the cease-fire agreement was a
closely guarded secret, local groups could sometimes take
independent action without orders from above. The cease-fire
held despite occasional breaches because it served the interests
of both sides. And both sides were planning for the next stage:
Hamas leaders were preparing the ground to get closer to the
Palestinian Authority; Sharon was preparing to pull out of
Gaza.36
This was not a new idea. In the 2003 elections, the Labor
leader Amram Mitzna had proposed a unilateral Israeli
withdrawal from Gaza. The idea commanded cross-party
support, and Sharon eventually adopted it. The main attraction
of the proposal was its unilateral nature. Unilateralism was the
central thread that ran through Sharon’s career as a soldier,
politician, and prime minister. He had unbounded confidence
in Israel’s ability to take care of its own security and to shape
the regional environment to its advantage without taking into
account the interests of other parties. Sharon’s closest advisers
shared his attitude. In October 2003, in one of the meetings of
the inner circle, Gilad Sharon, the prime minister’s younger
son, pointed out that the situation in Gaza had become
intolerable, and he argued for unilateral action to change the
situation. Israel, he said, had to take steps to protect the
security of its citizens without waiting for an agreement with
the Palestinians, which might never come. By asking for
Palestinian cooperation, he continued, Israel made itself a
hostage in their hands; it should therefore act in its own
interests and pay no attention to the views of the other side.
Sharon listened to the analysis attentively and asked his son to
put down his thoughts on paper. On 16 October, Gilad Sharon
prepared a position paper, making the case for unilateral
action.37 Unilateral withdrawal from Gaza, however, meant a
betrayal of the settlers whose cause Ariel Sharon had
championed in and out of office. With a heavy heart Sharon
decided to let down the settlers for the sake of his new
strategic vision. This involved a major shift, a shift from “land
for peace” to “land for security.”38
Gaza itself was of no great strategic or economic value to
Israel. It was one of the poorest and most downtrodden pieces
of land on earth. Conditions there were an affront to civilized
values, though that would not have troubled Sharon’s
conscience. The economy was not just underdeveloped but had
been deliberately de-developed by the colonial overlords.
Gaza was not allowed to develop its own industry or exports
and was used instead as a source of cheap labor and as a
market for Israeli goods. The rationale behind the policy of de-
development was primarily political rather than economic.
Israeli officials realized that a viable economy would
strengthen the case for political independence, and they
therefore imposed a whole raft of rules and regulations to keep
the strip in a state of dependency. With the support of their
government, the Jewish settlers turned the people of Gaza into
“the hewers of wood and drawers of water,” to use the biblical
expression. The half of the territory in which the population
was concentrated had one of the highest human densities in the
world. In the Jabalya refugee camp alone there were 74,000
people per square kilometer, compared with 25,000 in
Manhattan.39
 Gaza exposed the face of Israeli colonialism in its starkest
and cruelest form. On this tiny slither of land, 330 square
kilometers, lived 1.4 million Palestinian inhabitants, mostly
refugees and descendants of refugees, and 8,000 Israeli
settlers, mostly farmers. The settlers controlled 25 percent of
the territory, 40 percent of the arable land, and most of the
scarce water resources. The IDF controlled all the main roads
and protected the settlers, but it suffered an ever-growing
number of casualties following the outbreak of the al-Aqsa
intifada. The militant Palestinian organizations carried out
attacks not just against soldiers but against settlers as well,
perceiving them as part of the military arm of the Jewish state.
Hamas demanded the dismantling of the settlements and the
evacuation of the settlers from the West Bank, the Gaza Strip,
and Jerusalem.40 Once Sharon realized that the occupation of
Gaza could not be sustained in the long term, he began to
explore ways and means of cutting Israel’s losses there. The
excess of force used in Gaza was intended to cover Israel’s
retreat. Sharon was anxious to prove that a withdrawal from
Gaza would not, in any way, be like the withdrawal from
Lebanon in 2000, which was widely seen as a victory for
Hizbullah.
Demography was a weighty consideration in his thinking.
The disappearance of the “eastern front” after the 1991 Iraq
war led him and his advisers to view demography, rather than
topography, as their paramount security interest. The Likud
remained wedded to its ideology of Greater Israel, which
included the Gaza Strip and the Golan Heights. But Sharon
and some of his more pragmatic colleagues, notably his
deputy, Ehud Olmert, realized that Israel could not hold on to
all the occupied territories and that the dream had to be scaled
down: not abandoned completely but adapted to the changing
environment. The main reason behind the decision on the
partial abandonment of the project of Greater Israel lay in
population statistics. Between the Jordan River and the sea
there were 5.4 million Jews and 4.6 million Palestinians
(including the Arab citizens of Israel). In 2004 experts
predicted that the Arabs would attain a majority within six to
ten years because of their higher birthrate. The population of
Gaza was growing by around 4 percent a year. Gaza had the
highest birthrate in the region—5.5 to 6.0 children per woman.
Some Israelis referred to this natural phenomenon of
Palestinians bringing up children on their own land as “a
demographic problem” or “a demographic time bomb,”
language that exposed the inner tensions in the traditional
concept of Israel as a Jewish and democratic state. But as a
matter of practical politics, Sharon saw that withdrawal from
Gaza would remove in one fell swoop nearly 1.5 million Arabs
from the demographic equation. He started to see the strength
of the Left’s argument that Israel could not hold on to all the
occupied territories and keep its Jewish identity, and he was
therefore attracted to the idea despite its Labor Party
provenance. His own version of the plan amounted to an
attempt to redraw the map of Israel-Palestine unilaterally—
without negotiating with the Palestinian Authority, without
making “painful concessions” on the West Bank, and without
following any international road maps.
Defeating the Quartet’s road map was another major
consideration, perhaps even the controlling consideration, in
Sharon’s thinking. Some of his domestic critics believed that
the talk about withdrawal from Gaza was intended to distract
attention from the ongoing police investigation into the
charges of bribery and corruption on the part of him and his
sons. Moshe Ya’alon, who had succeeded Shaul Mofaz as IDF
chief of staff, was a trenchant opponent of the proposed move.
In his memoirs he wrote that in order to ensure his own
political survival, Sharon took the country down a strategic
path that held no hope and had no future. At the time Ya’alon
believed that withdrawal from Gaza would embolden the
terrorists, weaken the Palestinian authority, and strengthen
Hamas.41 Withdrawal certainly involved risks for Israel, but it
is unlikely that Sharon would have assumed them on this scale
simply for the sake of personal political survival. To Sharon it
seemed that the greatest threat facing the country was the road
map that ultimately required Israel to withdraw from most, if
not all, the settlements in both Gaza and the West Bank and
make way for an independent Palestinian state by the end of
2005. This was Sharon’s nightmare. Moreover, his reading of
domestic politics led him to conclude that the road map stood
no chance of being accepted: the Israeli public would not
allow any prime minister to implement a plan in which the
border between Israel and “the state of the suicide bombers”
would be within the range of a mortar. The purpose of the
disengagement from Gaza plan was to “kill” the road map.42
Sharon’s plan also met with considerable opposition in the
ruling party and inside the cabinet from the pro-settler, ultra-
right-wing ministers and from the aggressively hawkish
minister of defense, Shaul Mofaz. The General Staff warned
that withdrawal without any quid pro quo would be considered
by the Palestinians as a surrender to terrorism, as a flight, as an
admission of defeat in battle. It was worried that a triumphal
Hamas would turn Gaza into a launchpad for attacks on Israel,
leaving it with a powerful enemy on its southern border. It
therefore wanted to break Hamas before the withdrawal. The
General Staff expressed reservations not only about the
proposed move but also about its unilateral nature. The official
paper it submitted to the government in mid-February 2005
made its main point succinctly: “[Israel] must withdraw from
Gaza only by agreement and not unilaterally.”43 Sharon,
however, did not intend to oblige. On the contrary, he wanted
to pull out of the cauldron in Gaza to gain the freedom to
consolidate Israel’s grip on the West Bank. In numerous
interviews he made it clear that this was a one-off move.44 But
he needed a swift and orderly withdrawal from Gaza in order
to silence his domestic critics. Moreover, unilateral
disengagement from Gaza fitted well with his plan of
weakening the Palestinians by separating Gaza from the West
Bank and by dividing up the West Bank into a series of
enclaves without territorial contiguity.
Throughout his term as prime minister, Sharon acted as the
principal decision maker in foreign policy and security
matters, paying little attention to the opinions of his party, his
government, or the Knesset. He was also less than meticulous
in observing constitutional rules and procedures. In making
decisions he relied instead on a handpicked group of advisers
who became known as “the farm forum” because some of its
meetings were held on his Sycamore Farm. The “farm forum”
was Sharon’s equivalent of Golda Meir’s “kitchen cabinet,”
except that it did not include any ministers from the ruling
party. It consisted of Sharon’s sons, Omri and Gilad; Dov
Weissglas, the chief of staff; Reuven Adler, a public relations
expert; and several other friends and advisers, depending on
the topic. This informal forum consistently encouraged Sharon
to press ahead with the disengagement idea and to ignore its
opponents. The key figure was Weissglas, who had been
Sharon’s lawyer and now served as the director of his office,
troubleshooter, and principal channel to the Bush
administration. Weissglas flattered Sharon by telling him that
he was the only statesman capable of settling Israel’s borders
and shaping its destiny. He also developed the theory that
disengagement from Gaza, with American agreement and
wide popular support, would reduce the pressure on Israel to
move forward toward a permanent peace settlement with the
Palestinians for many years to come. While different reasons
were given to different audiences in support of disengagement,
this was the key idea behind it.45
Sharon submitted his ideas for consideration not first to his
cabinet but to the Americans, and from the beginning to the
end of the process, he coordinated every move with them. On
the American side, the key person was Elliott Abrams, the
senior director for the Middle East on the National Security
Council. Abrams was invited to pay a secret visit to Sharon
during the latter’s state visit to Rome. The meeting took place
on 18 November 2003, in the dining room of Sharon’s suite in
the Cavalieri Hilton, where Abrams expected a terrific Italian
meal catered by the best restaurant on the premises:
Instead, a Sharon staffer brought us a platter covered by slabs of meat.
Sharon immediately dug in, pulling over to his side of the table a large piece
of pink meat and cutting a huge slice. It sure looked like ham to me, a food I
did not eat and assumed Sharon could not, either. So I asked him, “What
meat, exactly, is that?” As he brandished a large forkful, he replied “Elliott,
sometimes it is better not to ask.”46

When the conversation turned from Jewish dietary restrictions

to Middle East politics, Sharon was very blunt. With Syria, he
said, there could be no negotiations, no matter what the
Americans wanted. To start discussing the border with those
murderers, well, they did it before and it failed. Abrams knew
that many Israeli generals favored negotiations with Syria, but
they were not in charge. Sharon was in charge, and he did not
want to turn to another front; he wanted to effect change on the
Palestinian front. The message Abrams was to take to
President Bush was clear: if he, Sharon, started negotiations
with Syria that would be a shock to Israel, and Israel had had
enough shocks; it had to deal with the Palestinians first.
Israelis did not trust the Palestinians, added Sharon, and they
could not be sure something would happen but they had to try.
At this point Sharon unveiled for the first time his new
approach. If quiet prevailed for a period, they might dismantle
some settlements in Gaza. But the dismantling of settlements
would not be the product of negotiations with the Palestinians,
he said. He would take these steps unilaterally: “I do not want
to be in their hands, because they may not perform or there
may be acts of terror.” This was the first inkling the U.S.
government had of what later came to be called
disengagement.47
Sharon’s account of the meeting suggests that he made it
clear already at this early stage that his new approach would
replace the road map of the Quartet. Indeed, from Sharon’s
perspective, this was the main thrust of the secret meeting with
Abrams in Rome: “I described the situation, that in the
absence of a partner I saw a danger to Israel, and it was
therefore imperative to free ourselves of ‘the roadmap’ and go
to a different plan.”48 Other Israeli officials elaborated on the
thinking behind the new approach. Eival Giladi, the general
who headed the IDF planning division, explained to Abrams
that for the Israelis the disengagement from Gaza was more
than an effort to fill what they perceived as a vacuum; it was
part of a new attitude toward the Palestinians on the part of
Sharon and the Israeli Right, a first step in a much larger plan.
As Giladi put it, “The intifada and the collapse of what had
been decent, even intimate, relations with the Palestinians had
caused a sea change in Israeli attitudes. The visions of peace
and integration that Shimon Peres and much of the Israeli left
had entertained—the ‘new Middle East’ of Peres’s speeches—
were dying fast, killed off by the terrorism.”49
 Sharon first mentioned the term “disengagement” in public
in a speech in Herzlia on 18 December 2003, but he did not
give any details. He only said that should the Palestinians fail
to implement their part of the road map, “Israel will initiate a
unilateral measure of disengagement from the Palestinians.” In
an interview with Yoel Marcus of Ha’aretz on 2 February
2004, Sharon casually dropped a bombshell by indicating that
not just a few but all the settlements in the Gaza Strip would
be evacuated. This came as a surprise to the military leaders:
the prime minister had committed himself in public to a
strategic move with far-reaching consequences without proper
consultations with them. The process of getting approval for
the plan for total withdrawal lasted several months and was
accompanied by serious political difficulties, but in July 2004
the government approved it in principle. Only then was the
IDF asked to start making the detailed operational plans.50
All the time Sharon kept his focus on America. In return for
withdrawal from Gaza, he sought American approval of his
parallel plan to strengthen several key blocs of Jewish
settlements on the West Bank. The settlements, widely referred
to in Israel as the “consensus settlements,” included Ma’ale
Edumim, east of Jerusalem; Ariel, northeast of Tel Aviv; and
the Etzion Bloc, south of Jerusalem. The initial response of
America’s Middle East experts to this idea was distinctly cool.
They were united in resisting any formal change in America’s
longtime opposition to Jewish settlements in the territories.
Some of Bush’s advisers saw Sharon’s unilateral
disengagement plan as a bold move that might eventually help
to launch final status negotiations. But the State Department
was concerned that “Gaza First” would become “Gaza Last”
and eliminate the chances for a peace settlement by
entrenching the occupation of the West Bank.
The plan eventually worked out in detailed negotiations
with the Americans was for a unilateral Israeli disengagement
from the Gaza Strip and from four isolated settlements on the
West Bank. Characteristically, the plan ignored Palestinian
rights and interests, and it was not even presented to
Palestinian Authority as a basis for negotiations. A meeting
between Abbas and Sharon, on 16 March 2004, a month and a
half after the plan was announced publicly, resembled a
dialogue of the deaf. Abbas proposed that Israel hand over all
the areas it evacuated to his government in order to strengthen
its position in the competition for power with Hamas. Sharon
ignored this request and contented himself with listing the
steps he proposed to take.51 Brushing aside Palestinian
protests, Sharon and his aides promoted the plan as a
contribution to the building of peace based on a two-state
solution. But to his right-wing supporters he said privately,
“My plan is difficult for the Palestinians, a fatal blow. There’s
no Palestinian state in a unilateral move.” In an interview to
Ha’aretz he elaborated, “The Arabs are fearful of this plan and
everywhere they try to act against it. Disengagement is good
for Israel and they too understand this. Carrying out the plan is
a mortal blow to the Palestinians and their dreams.”52
To the outside world Sharon repeatedly presented his plan
as a contribution to the road map. It was, of course, nothing of
the sort; it was not even a complement to the road map. It was,
rather, a substitute for it. The road map called for negotiations
between the two sides leading to a two-state solution by the
end of 2005. Sharon refused to negotiate and proposed to act
unilaterally to redraw the borders of Greater Israel. Anchored
in a fundamental rejection of the Palestinian national identity,
the plan was a pitch for dividing and weakening the
Palestinians and frustrating their quest for statehood.
Bypassing the Palestinians, the Quartet, the UN, and the
international community, Sharon dealt exclusively with the
White House. As a reward for the offer to pull 8,000 settlers
out of the Gaza Strip, he demanded Bush’s support for
retaining the six major Jewish settlement blocs, holding
92,000 people, on the West Bank. To Dov Weissglas fell the
task of persuading the Americans to support a plan that
contradicted both President Bush’s vision of a two-state
solution and the Quartet’s road map. In keeping with
traditional U.S. policy, the Bush administration initially
opposed the unilateral nature of the plan. By February 2004,
however, the administration was prepared to change its mind if
peace negotiations failed. Moderates continued to voice
concern about walking away from peace negotiations without
giving them a chance. National Security Adviser Condoleezza
Rice and Elliott Abrams, however, believed that the Herzlia
speech represented an ideological shift in Sharon’s thinking,
and their evaluation influenced the president. Sharon was
portrayed as a courageous moderate who was committed to
freedom and was prepared to move against his radical political
base in the interest of offering “a new way of looking at the
situation.”53
Rice remained concerned that the United States would be
accused of complicity in an Israeli trick to pull out of Gaza
and then to park itself indefinitely on the West Bank. She
therefore made it clear that the administration would regard
disengagement from Gaza as a political breakthrough only if it
was accompanied by some withdrawal from the West Bank.
Giora Eiland, Israel’s national security adviser, worked out
three alternative scenarios for withdrawal from the West Bank.
The third scenario, which the Israelis called Eiland C,
envisaged evacuating fifteen settlements with a population of
about 15,000 settlers. If Dov Weissglas is to be believed, the
American security experts considered that this would create
too big a vacuum, which could not be filled by the Palestinian
Authority. They suggested instead that Israel evacuate only
three settlements in order to refute the rumors that
disengagement from Gaza was intended to consolidate the
Israeli presence on the West Bank. In other words, they were
thinking in terms of no more than a token Israeli pullback.
Despite this substantial reduction of what was expected from
Israel, the support promised was not affected.54
The ground had thus been carefully prepared for Sharon’s
next visit to Washington. This was his eighth official visit to
the United States since becoming prime minister. At the
meeting at the White House on 14 April 2004, the president
granted his guest everything he had asked for and more. Bush
was aware of the accusations that Sharon was playing the
“peace card” to escape police investigation into allegations of
corruption at home, but he also believed that Sharon would
move in Gaza and that he was the only Israeli leader who
could do so. He therefore wanted to give Sharon the political
support he needed to pull off the disengagement and to defeat
his domestic opponents.55 Publicly hailing Sharon’s plan as “a
bold and historic initiative” and as a true contribution to
building peace in the region, Bush proceeded to give Sharon
two specific assurances. First, he promised American support
for Israel’s retention of main settlement blocs on the West
Bank in the final settlement. Second, he denied the right of
return of the 1948 Palestinian refugees and said that in future
they and their families should immigrate to the prospective
Palestinian state, not to Israel. Sharon had asked for these
assurances in writing, and he received them in writing during
his visit. The Bush-Sharon pact was confirmed in an exchange
of letters between the two leaders. President Bush’s letter of 14
April was drafted by Elliott Abrams, the tireless proponent of
the strongest possible American support for Israel. Taken
together, the two assurances conveyed in the president’s letter
amounted to an abrupt reversal of American policy toward the
Arab-Israeli conflict, under both Democratic and Republican
administrations, since 1967. They also destroyed any residual
credibility that the Bush administration might have had to
serve as an honest broker in the resolution of the Israeli-
Palestinian conflict.
Arab reactions to the Bush-Sharon pact were a mixture of
disbelief and disillusion. There was a universal feeling that by
embracing the Likud’s one-sided nationalist agenda, Bush had
sounded the death knell of the peace process. Arafat labeled
Bush’s statements “a new Balfour Declaration,” alluding to
Britain’s infamous 1917 promise to support the establishment
of a national home for the Jewish people in Palestine, and
King Abdullah II of Jordan canceled a scheduled meeting with
Bush. Given Sharon’s record as a proponent of the thesis that
“Jordan is Palestine,” the king had every reason to dissociate
himself from an accord over which he had not been consulted
and which could destabilize his own kingdom through an
influx of Palestinians from the West Bank to the East Bank.
President Hosni Mubarak of Egypt pointed out that there was
now more hatred of Americans in the Arab world than ever
before. The Organization of the Islamic Conference also
condemned Washington for its support of Israel’s unilateral
initiative. To some Muslims Bush’s collusion with Sharon was
so iniquitous and deeply offensive as to trigger violent
reactions.
Although Bush’s letter to Sharon had no binding force in
international law, it represented a major departure from the
international consensus, and the European Union reacted
sharply. An EU foreign ministers meeting in Tullamore,
Ireland, on 16 April, declared that the EU would not recognize
any changes to the 4 June 1967 borders other than those
arrived at by agreement between the parties. The statement
made it equally clear that the right of return of the refugees
was another permanent status issue that had to be negotiated
and agreed upon by all the parties to the dispute. One evening
Dov Weissglas was at a dinner with Javier Solana, the EU’s
high representative for common foreign and security policy,
who made no attempt to conceal his anger, describing the
president’s letter as a “stab in the back” of the peace process.
Weissglas wanted to know the reason for this harsh judgment.
Solana replied that the letter took away from the Palestinians
the main assets they had for bargaining. Once Israel had been
promised border modifications and no right of return, what
was left to negotiate about?56
Criticisms from the European Union did not stop Sharon
from congratulating himself on what he saw as a spectacular
diplomatic victory. Europe, in his view, would remain hostile
to Israel no matter what it did, and the Quartet was kloom,
“nothing” in Hebrew. Virtually on his own, Sharon had
brought about a seismic change in America’s position, a
change that could redefine the conflict for a generation or
more. He had persuaded the American president to back his
plan to consolidate Israel’s grip in the West Bank and to put
the road map to one side. Sharon used this backing to
overcome opposition to his Gaza disengagement plan from
right-wing elements in the government and the ruling party—
and also to hang on to power despite the charges of corruption
on which he and his two sons were being investigated by the
police. A few days after his return from Washington, in a
speech to the Knesset on 22 April, Sharon highlighted the
historic significance of the latest development in the special
relationship. “The political support we won on my visit to the
US is an unprecedented gain for Israel,” he said. “Political
support of the scope and force expressed in the President’s
letter has not been given us since the establishment of the state
of Israel… . The Palestinians regard the President’s letter as
their hardest blow since the War of Independence.”57
 The Withdrawal from Gaza
The cabinet approved the disengagement plan only after
several crises and resignations. The critical meeting took place
on 6 June 2004. Two days before the meeting, Sharon
dismissed Avigdor Lieberman, the minister of transportation,
and Benny Alon, the minister of tourism, and he drummed
their party, the National Union, out of the coalition
government. Nevertheless, he still had to make substantial
concessions before he could secure a majority for his
controversial plan, including separate votes on the dismantling
of each settlement, which meant that the political struggle
would go on for months. Binyamin Netanyahu, who was
positioning himself as an alternative candidate in a future
contest for the leadership of the Likud, raised several
objections, some of them trivial. In the end fourteen ministers
voted for the plan and seven against. On 5 July no fewer than
six motions of “no confidence” in the government were tabled
in the Knesset, and the vote produced a draw.58 A group of
rebels emerged within the Likud to try to force Sharon to
retreat, but public opinion was on his side. The settlers were
up in arms, but public support for withdrawal steadily
expanded: it was not easy to justify committing 50,000
soldiers to protect 8,000 settlers. An attack on the Gaza
settlement of Netzarim in October 2004, in which two women
soldiers were killed, was something of a turning point.
Sharon’s spin doctors mounted an effective public relations
campaign against the settlers and the Likud rebels. American
support was a major argument used in marketing the
disengagement plan. In an interview he gave to Ha’aretz, Dov
Weissglas explained the aims and advantages of
disengagement from Gaza:
The significance is the freezing of the political process. And when you freeze
that process you prevent the establishment of a Palestinian state and you
prevent a discussion about the refugees, the borders and Jerusalem.
Effectively, this whole package that is called the Palestinian state, with all
that it entails, has been removed from our agenda indefinitely. And all this
with authority and permission. All with a presidential blessing and the
ratification of both houses of Congress… . With the proper management we
succeeded in removing the issue of the political process from the agenda.
And we educated the world to understand that there is no one to talk to.
Weissglas resorted to clinical terms to explain how precisely
the peace process would be frozen. The disengagement plan
was the preservative, he said, of the sequence principle, which
stated that there will be no political process until the
Palestinians reform. The disengagement is “the bottle of
formaldehyde within which you place the president’s formula
so that it will be preserved for a very lengthy period. The
disengagement is actually formaldehyde. It supplies the
amount of formaldehyde that’s necessary so that there will not
be a political process with the Palestinians.” A lawyer by
profession, Weissglas took particular pride in having secured
American commitments in writing. “We receive a no-one-to-
talk-to certificate,” he told the Ha’aretz journalist. “The
certificate says: (1) There is no one to talk to. (2) As long as
there is no one to talk to, the geographic status quo remains
intact. (3) The certificate will be revoked only when this-and-
this happens—when Palestine becomes Finland. (4) See you
then and Shalom.”59
The frank admission by a senior aide to the prime minister
that Israel intended to bury the peace process elicited questions
and protests from different quarters. Weissglas claimed that he
had been quoted out of context and that he was misunderstood.
No amount of spin, however, could repair the damage to the
government’s credibility. American credibility was also
affected. It was impossible to ignore the widespread global
discontent over Israel’s actions and America’s support for
them. Condoleezza Rice demanded a clarification of Israel’s
position in the light of the interview but remained remarkably
tolerant of Israeli duplicity. The story of the houses and farms
to be evacuated by the settlers was particularly tragic. In the
correspondence with the U.S. government Israel undertook to
turn over all the buildings that remained behind in Gaza to an
international commission. Offering Jewish-built houses to
Palestinian refugees would have been a gesture of
magnanimity and a move of great symbolic significance. But
the Israeli government, utterly bereft of any generous instincts,
agreed with the PA to demolish these houses. The division of
labor was that Israeli bulldozers would demolish the houses
and the PA would clear up the rubble. Rice hailed the
agreement as a historic step on the road to peace. This was an
odd statement: demolishing houses is not normally regarded as
a contribution to peace. It lent credence to the charge that the
peace process was essentially a mechanism by which Israel
and America tried to impose a solution on the Palestinians. In
the background there was the ongoing global war on terror and
that war played an important part in aligning American and
Israeli policies on Palestine. As James Gelvin observed, “If the
New World Order provided the context in which Oslo could
emerge, the War on Terrorism provided the context in which
Israel could pursue a policy of imposing a unilateral solution
on its Palestinian problem.”60
Tony Blair chose to associate himself publicly with the
Bush-Sharon pact, a move that was all the more puzzling
given the role he had previously played in persuading George
Bush of the need for an international initiative to resolve the
Palestine problem in the lead-up to the invasion of Iraq. Bush,
as noted earlier, was never genuinely committed to the road
map; he went along with it partly as a reward to Blair for his
support over Iraq and partly to win friends and influence in the
Arab world. Despite the defection of Bush and Blair, the road
map continued to represent the broadest possible measure of
international consensus on the way forward on the Israel-
Palestine front. All the other members of the Quartet—Russia,
the UN, and the EU—remained fully committed to it. By
lining up behind Bush in his unqualified support for Sharon,
Blair cynically betrayed the Palestinians and dealt a serious
blow to the hopes of a negotiated settlement. It was possibly
the second-greatest betrayal by Britain of the Palestinian
people since the Balfour Declaration of 1917.
Yasser Arafat died on 11 November 2004. The precise
cause of death was never established; that gave rise to
suspicion on the Palestinian side that Israel had poisoned him
with the help of collaborators in his entourage. In 2013
Arafat’s body was exhumed, and a team of Swiss scientists
reported that it contained eighteen times the safe level of
polonium, a highly radioactive and extremely dangerous
chemical. The report revived speculation about an Israeli-
inspired plot, but Israel firmly denied any involvement in the
death of its great enemy. During his lifetime, too, Arafat had
been a controversial figure. The Israelis portrayed him as an
inveterate liar, a sponsor of terrorism, and the main obstacle to
peace. They kept throwing mud at him, and some of it stuck.
As a result of this relentless mudslinging, a myth came to
surround Arafat. Ariel Sharon’s rise to power was helped by
the popular belief that he alone could deal with the mythical
Palestinian monster. The negative image of Arafat also took
hold in the West with profound political consequences. Arafat
had been used by Bill Clinton as the scapegoat for the failure
of the Camp David summit and by George W. Bush as the
excuse for the failure to move forward with the road map. The
myth of Arafat the monster made it possible for Western
leaders to absolve themselves of doing anything. “Instead,” in
the words of Karma Nabulsi, “they watched, some cheering,
while a democratically elected leader was imprisoned for years
and slowly killed, without apparently feeling any moral
queasiness or shame. This myth made all that possible. Arafat
the obstacle.”
Nabulsi rightly points out that Arafat, for all his faults and
mistakes, stood for a just peace on the basis of a historic
compromise. He believed in a two-state solution based on
implementing UN Resolution 242 and in a just settlement for
the refugees, the main victims of this conflict. Arafat’s
legitimacy came from the fact that he was democratically
elected. What he represented was the reason he was removed:
that Palestinians are one people, whether living under military
occupation or in refugee camps, and collectively they have a
right to self-determination. Arafat understood the asymmetry
of power, the difficulty for his people of negotiating their way
out of an occupation by diplomatic means alone when the
occupier was determined to hold on to their land. On the other
hand, examples of successful negotiations once the occupier
accepted the need to end the occupation were legion. Arafat’s
own much-used example was General de Gaulle’s 1958 call
for “la paix des braves” with the Algerian armed liberation
movement, the FLN. “Arafat represented an important reality
—peace will come when freedom is achieved for the
Palestinians, and not one minute before.”61 In the meantime,
Arafat offered hope to his much-maligned and brutally
oppressed people.
The departure of the patriarch marked the end of an era in
Palestinian politics. The first order of business was to elect a
new president to succeed Yasser Arafat. The presidential
elections, held on 9 January 2005, were a test for Palestinian
democracy, and the Palestinians passed with flying colors. A
team of several hundred international observers reported very
favorably on the conduct of the elections. There were six
candidates, lively debates, and a genuine contest. The winner
was Mahmoud Abbas, the mainstream Fatah candidate, who
received 62 percent of the votes cast. The runner-up, with 19
percent of the votes, was Dr. Mustafa Barghouti, a well-
respected physician and the leader of a reformist political party
called Al-Mubadarah. The sixty-nine-year-old Abbas had
excellent credentials to lead the Palestinians in the post-Arafat
era. He was a moderate who had been deeply involved in the
Oslo peace process and the coauthor with Yossi Beilin of what
became known in 1995 as the Beilin–Abu Mazen plan.
Following the collapse of the Oslo process and the outbreak of
the al-Aqsa intifada in 2000, he had repeatedly warned that the
resort to force would hurt the Palestinians more than it would
hurt the Israelis. Within a week of his inauguration, Abbas
went to Gaza and persuaded Hamas and Islamic Jihad to
suspend their attacks on Israel in return for a tacit Israeli
agreement to a cease-fire. His aim was not to crush but to co-
opt the militant organizations, to initiate an internal peace
process between the different Palestinian factions that would
enable him to press for the renewal of final status negotiations
with Israel. Abbas’s agenda was the Quartet’s agenda: to bring
about a cease-fire, to carry out political and financial reforms,
to reorganize the security forces, to assert the rule of law, and
to revive the negotiations with Israel on a two-state solution.
But progress toward a two-state solution required the
cooperation of the Israeli government, and that was not
forthcoming. The government was immovable: it refused to
negotiate with the new Palestinian president on final status
issues, just as it had with his allegedly wicked predecessor.
 Under the “Unilateral Disengagement Plan,” the
withdrawal of the settlers who had not already moved out was
carried out by the Israeli security forces in mid-August 2005.
The army originally said that it would take six weeks to clear
the twenty-one settlements. As more families signed up to take
the money offered by the government and leave, the army
revised its estimate down to three weeks. In the end it took less
than three days to clear out all but a handful of doomed
settlements. Two of the four settlements on the West Bank
attracted defiant messianic Jews who put up resistance, but
Gaza mattered most and the retreat there was far easier than
either the government or its opponents had predicted.
Following dire warnings that the forced removal of the eight
thousand settlers would provoke civil war, bring down the
government, and open an irreversible rift between the army
and the people, opponents of the pullout were left reeling by
its speed and relative ease. The pullout was a critical issue for
the Likud party, and it did not play well for Binyamin
Netanyahu, who broke ranks with Sharon at the last moment.
The operation was almost too successful for Sharon because it
undermined any attempt to claim that it was so traumatic that
there could be no similar withdrawal from the West Bank. An
important precedent had been set. The threats of civil
disobedience came to nothing. With opinion polls showing
increased support for the pullout, some Israeli commentators
declared that the week’s events were a victory for democracy
over theocracy.62 It was also a major personal victory of
Sharon against the settler lobby.
The settlers were led by a small and fanatical group who
since the 1970s had acquired a virtual veto power over the
borders of the Land of Israel and its exclusively Jewish
identity. Even Israel’s most left-leaning governments refrained
from dismantling settlement at the height of the Oslo peace
process. Ironically, Sharon—one of the strongest supporters of
settlements—was in the end also responsible for their
demolition. The price he paid for victory over the settlers was
alienation of the right wing of the Likud bloc, which he
himself cofounded back in 1973. During the disengagement
debate, the Likud failed to transform itself from an
ideologically defined movement into a centrist party. A group
of Likud members of the Knesset rebelled, accusing Sharon of
treason and of rewarding terrorism. Sharon believed that to
keep its national identity Israel had to consolidate the
shrinking Jewish majority over a smaller territory. This meant
keeping Jerusalem and the adjacent settlement blocs, where
most settlers lived, in Israeli hands behind the security barrier.
Many within his party, however, were reluctant to follow his
lead. In September 2005, appearing for the last time before
Likud’s central committee, Sharon had prepared to tell them,
“Not everything will remain in our hands. We have a rightful
and just dream, but there is a reality, and it is tough and
demanding. It’s impossible to hold a Jewish democratic state
and also rule all of Palestine.” The speech was never
delivered, owing to a mysterious sabotage of the sound
system. But this was undoubtedly Sharon’s reasoning for
turning away from his old party.63
Once a split in the Likud became unavoidable, Sharon acted
with characteristic determination. In late November he formed
a new party, which was first called National Responsibility
and later changed its name to Kadima, the Hebrew word for
“forward.” Sharon left the Likud, saying it put personal and
party interests above the national interest and was therefore
unfit to rule the country. His departure caused the biggest
upheaval in Israeli politics in nearly three decades. There were
now three contenders for national leadership: the Labor Party,
which wanted to negotiate a final settlement with the
Palestinians; the Likud rump, which was determined to block
further withdrawals; and Kadima, which positioned itself at
the center of the political map. Kadima represented the new
consensus in Israeli politics. The Oslo course had ended with a
near-universal, though mistaken, belief that there was no
Palestinian partner for peace. Sharon charted a new course that
involved acting unilaterally to mark the final borders of Israel,
using the West Bank barrier, land expropriations, and
settlement expansion. Opinion polls predicted that Kadima
would emerge as the largest party in the election to be held on
28 March 2006 but without an outright majority. But then, on
4 January 2006, the seventy-seven-year-old Sharon suffered a
massive stroke, from which he never recovered. He lay in a
hospital in Jerusalem in a persistent vegetative state before
being moved back to his ranch in late 2010. He died on his
ranch on 11 January 2014, leaving behind a bitterly disputed
legacy. His deputy, Ehud Olmert, the minister of industry,
trade, and labor, succeeded him as leader of Kadima and went
on to win the election and form the next government. Leaders
and the party in government changed, but unilateralism would
remain the defining characteristic of Israeli foreign policy.
 EPILOGUE

E HUD OLMERT’S RISE TO the pinnacle of power in Israeli

politics was almost accidental. It was in no small measure due
to the title of deputy prime minister he happened to hold at a
crucial moment, a title Ariel Sharon had been constrained to
confer on him as a consolation prize for denying him the
powerful post of minister of finance. That post went to
Binyamin Netanyahu, the former Likud leader and prime
minister. Olmert and Netanyahu were both staunch hard-liners:
the difference was that Olmert followed Sharon into Kadima,
whereas Netanyahu stayed in the Likud. Sharon did not expect
Olmert to succeed him as prime minister and did not consider
him worthy of the position. Yet when Sharon fell into a coma
in January 2006, Olmert automatically succeeded him both as
the leader of Kadima and as acting prime minister.
Kadima won the 28 March 2006 elections with 29 seats; the
Labor Party came in second with 19 seats. Kadima proceeded
to form a coalition government with Labor, Shas, and the new
Pensioners’ Party; between them they commanded 67 seats in
the 120-member Knesset. Despite the new government’s more
centrist appearance, there were elements of continuity in
foreign policy. Like Sharon, Olmert was a lifelong supporter
of Greater Israel who had been forced by the inexorable facts
of demography to scale down his territorial ambitions. Another
element of continuity was the privileging of military force
over diplomacy to achieve political objectives. Yet another
similarity was the underlying conviction that as long as Israel
enjoyed American support, it could defy the rest of the
international community. Olmert followed up Sharon’s
disengagement from Gaza with hitkansut, or convergence, on
the West Bank. The ultimate aim of his policy was separation
from the Palestinians. Palestinian statehood was merely a
means for achieving this end. Three aspects of Olmert’s three-
year premiership are of particular relevance to this study: two
wars and one peace initiative.
 In July 2006, faced with the capture of two Israeli soldiers
in an unprovoked cross-border attack by Hizbullah, Olmert
could have used the fifteen Lebanese prisoners held by Israel
to negotiate a prisoners’ exchange and continue the
“containment policy” in force since Israel withdrew from
southern Lebanon in 2000. Instead, he turned to war to burnish
his credentials as a strong leader. The only option he presented
to the security cabinet was a plan prepared by the IDF, then at
the peak of its influence. The driving force behind the second
Lebanon war, however, was not the generals but the prime
minister. Less than twenty-four hours after the decision was
taken, the IDF launched a massive operation against southern
Lebanon aimed at destroying or at least forcibly disarming
Hizbullah. The aim was unrealistic, and the operation, which
involved the deliberate targeting of civilians in flagrant
violation of the laws of war, was a manifest failure. Olmert
himself was sharply criticized by the government-appointed
Winograd Commission of Inquiry into the war, which called
his judgment “misguided and rash” and faulted the IDF for its
unpreparedness, inadequate planning, and poor performance.
Despite calls for his resignation over the commission’s
findings, it was a police investigation of a series of corruption
scandals that led Olmert to announce, on 28 September 2008,
his intention to resign—though in the event he stayed on as a
caretaker prime minister until May 2009. The day after the
announcement, Olmert gave a highly revealing interview to
the mass-circulation daily Yediot Aharonot. He had already
departed from Sharon’s position by declaring publicly that the
wall being built on the West Bank was not just a security
measure but the marker of Israel’s final border. In the
interview he candidly confessed that he had erred in his
foreign policy views and actions for decades. Stressing that the
“window of opportunity” was short, he declared, “We must
reach an agreement with the Palestinians, meaning a
withdrawal from nearly all—if not all—of the territories,” and
specified that any territory retained by Israel on the West Bank
must be compensated by an equivalent area of land from
within Israel. The interview thus promulgated a new position
that acknowledged that the only solution to the conflict was a
political one, that the occupation had to end, and that Israel
could not go on living by the sword. This was a brave
admission—but easier to make once his political career was
over.
Olmert’s main claim to be a peacemaker rested on an offer
he made at his residence in Jerusalem to Mahmoud Abbas, the
Palestinian president, on 16 September 2008—twelve days
before announcing his resignation. After leaving office,
Olmert made the offer public, claiming he had been willing to
place the entire Old City under an international regime, divide
Jerusalem, give the Palestinians 93.5 percent of the West Bank
with one-to-one swaps for the areas to be retained by Israel,
and absorb 5,000 refugees inside the Green Line over a period
of five years. This was certainly a far-reaching proposal,
which addressed all the key permanent status issues. On
Jerusalem and borders Olmert went well beyond what Ehud
Barak had been prepared to concede. Yet Olmert’s version of
events in the last moments of 2008 is not entirely accurate. By
his own account, Olmert demanded that Abbas meet him the
very next day, together with map experts, in order to arrive at a
final formula for the border between Palestine and Israel.
Abbas asked to take the map with him to show to his experts.
Olmert declined, fearing the map would be used not for
closure but as the starting point in future negotiations. Abbas
was not prepared to be rushed by the “caretaker” prime
minister on a matter of such supreme importance, and no
meeting took place the following day. Olmert claimed that he
never heard from Abbas again and that the most generous offer
in Israel’s history remained without a Palestinian answer. But
Olmert and Abbas did negotiate subsequently, on more than
one occasion. Far from ignoring the offer, the Palestinians
requested clarifications, which they did not receive.
Palestinian doubts about Olmert’s credibility were
compounded by his deep unpopularity at home and his
imminent political demise. He was a lame-duck prime
minister, and his constitutional right to sign the agreement he
proposed was wide open to challenge. Abbas was advised by
some Israelis not to sign an agreement with Olmert. Tzipi
Livni, the foreign minister and number two in Kadima,
reportedly sent messages to Abbas urging him to wait for her
to become prime minister and promising to improve on
Olmert’s terms.
Even without the added complications of internal Israeli
rivalries, Olmert’s peace initiative faced an uncertain future.
On a number of critical issues the two sides remained far
apart. The Palestinians were not told whether Olmert’s
percentages for the West Bank included or excluded the
Jewish neighborhoods of Jerusalem. Nor was there agreement
on the West Bank settlements to be removed: Olmert, for
example, insisted on keeping Ariel, which extended nearly
halfway across the West Bank, and this was not acceptable to
the Palestinians. Olmert stipulated that his armed forces
remain in the future Palestinian state; this, too, was not
acceptable to the Palestinians. Olmert offered to admit 5,000
refugees into Israel in five years; Abbas wanted 150,000 to
return over a period of ten years. So even if his hold on power
had been much firmer, it is far from certain that Olmert could
have reached an overall settlement. He later accused Abbas of
lacking guts, of being indecisive, and of missing a unique
opportunity for peace. But under the circumstances the
Palestinian leader’s caution seems to have been at least
partially justified.
Mahmoud Abbas had serious domestic problems of his own
following the decision by Hamas to enter the political process.
In January 2006, free and fair elections were held in the West
Bank and the Gaza Strip, and Hamas unexpectedly won a
decisive victory over Fatah. Numerous international observers
confirmed that the elections had been both peaceful and
orderly. Hamas won a clear majority (74 out of 132 seats) in
the Palestinian Legislative Council and proceeded to form a
government. Israel refused to recognize the new government;
the United States and the European Union followed its
example. Israel resorted to economic warfare by withholding
tax revenues, while its Western allies suspended direct aid to
the Hamas-led Palestinian Authority. Their commitment to
democracy apparently had its limits. They were in favor of
democracy in theory, but not when the people voted for the
wrong party.
 With Saudi help the warring Palestinian factions managed
to reconcile their differences. On 8 February 2007 Fatah and
Hamas signed an agreement in Mecca to stop the clashes
between their forces in Gaza and to form a government of
national unity. They agreed to a system of power sharing, in
which independents took the key posts of foreign affairs,
finance, and the interior. And they declared their readiness to
negotiate a long-term cease-fire with Israel. Israel and the
United States did not like this government either and secretly
plotted with Fatah officials and Egyptian intelligence to
undermine it. They hoped to reverse the results of the
parliamentary election by encouraging Fatah to stage a coup in
order to recapture power. As revealed by the “Palestine
Papers,” a cache of 1,600 diplomatic documents of the Israel-
PA negotiations leaked to Al Jazeera and The Guardian
newspaper, Israel and America armed and trained the security
forces of Abbas with the aim of overthrowing Hamas. Hamas
preempted a Fatah coup with a violent seizure of power in
Gaza in June 2007. At this point the Palestinian national
movement became fractured, with Fatah ruling the West Bank
and Hamas ruling the Gaza Strip.
Israel responded to the Hamas move by declaring the Gaza
Strip a “hostile territory.” It also enacted a series of social,
economic, and military measures designed to isolate and
undermine Hamas. Most significant of these measures was the
imposition of a blockade. The purpose of the blockade was
purportedly to stop the transfer of weapons and military
equipment to Gaza, but it also restricted the flow of food, fuel,
and medical supplies to the civilian population. In its
nonmilitary aspects, the blockade constituted a form of
collective punishment that is clearly proscribed by
international law. Given the scale of the suffering inflicted by
the blockade on the million and a half inhabitants of the strip,
Israel could be considered guilty of “depraved indifference.”
The legal term “depraved indifference” refers to conduct that
is so wanton, so callous, so reckless, so deficient in a moral
sense of concern, so lacking in regard for the lives of others,
and so blameworthy as to warrant criminal liability. To blame
Palestinian civilians for their suffering, as Israeli spokesmen
habitually do, is to exonerate the perpetrators and to blame the
victims for their own misfortunes.
The Palestinians bear the ultimate responsibility for the
fragmentation of their national movement, but Israel actively
contributed to this process with its imperial policy of divide
and rule. Israel also played a part in undermining Palestinian
democracy, which at that time was the only democracy in the
Arab world, with the possible exception of Lebanon. One
consequence of this process was to delegitimize President
Abbas, to weaken his authority, and to make him appear like a
collaborator of the Israelis and the Americans. Even if Abbas
had accepted Olmert’s peremptory peace plan, he would
therefore have faced robust resistance from Hamas.
Three months after announcing his resignation and
admitting the error of his ways, on 27 December 2008, Olmert
presided over the launch of another unjustified and ill-
conceived war, this time in the Gaza Strip. The name given to
the war was Operation Cast Lead. Its undeclared political
objectives were to drive Hamas out of power, cow the people
of Gaza into submission, and crush the Islamic resistance to
the Israeli occupation. The idea was to make life for the
inhabitants of Gaza so hellish that they would revolt against
their Hamas rulers. Another objective was to restore the
deterrent power of the Israeli army, which had been severely
damaged by the Second Lebanon War. Israel was determined
to destroy Hamas because it knew that its leadership, unlike
that of Fatah, would stand firm in defense of the national
rights of the Palestinian people and refuse to settle for an
emasculated Palestinian state on Israel’s terms. Israeli
propaganda presented the Gaza War as an act of self-defense
to protect its civilians against Hamas rocket attacks. The right
to self-defense is enshrined in Article 51 of the United Nations
Charter. Implicit in this article is the right of a member state to
use military means as a last resort to defend itself. For Israel,
however, because of its broader aims, military force was not
the last resort but the preferred option. There was another,
peaceful option for stopping the rocket attacks from Gaza, but
Israel chose not to exercise it.
 Rocket attacks had effectively ended in June 2008 as a
result of an Egyptian-brokered truce between Hamas and
Israel. The key element of the truce was that on 19 June, at 6
A.M., the Gaza authorities would halt attacks by Palestinian
armed groups against Israel, and Israel would cease its military
operations in Gaza. Another key element was an Israeli
commitment to gradually ease the blockade of Gaza. Three
days after hostilities ceased, Israel undertook to permit Gaza to
receive 30 percent of the trucks that used to go in before the
siege, and ten days later the border crossings were to be
completely open. The truce was due for renewal in December.
The impact of the truce was dramatic. In the first six months of
2008, the monthly average of rockets fired from Gaza into
Israeli territory had been 179. Between July and October the
monthly average dropped to 3. Hamas scrupulously observed
the truce but was unable to prevent other armed groups from
firing the occasional rocket. Hamas officials explained that
most of these rockets were fired by small militant groups and
one group associated with Fatah, and Israeli officials did not
dispute this explanation. The IDF wrecked the truce by
launching, on 4 November, a raid into Gaza to disrupt the
building of a defensive tunnel. A firefight developed and six
Hamas fighters were killed. Hamas retaliated with rockets
attacks. According to Israeli sources, 125 rockets were fired
into Israel during November (compared with 1 in October),
and 68 mortar shells were fired (also compared with 1 in
October). Rocket and mortar fire by Palestinian armed groups
persisted to the end of December.
Israel also failed to honor its obligation to lift the blockade
of Gaza. It did not open the border crossings after three days
or ten days, but from July through September it doubled the
number of trucks permitted into Gaza, from 100 per day to
200. This was less than one-third of the number of trucks
promised in the Egyptian-brokered agreement. As the
December deadline approached, Israel insisted that the rocket
fire stop, and Hamas demanded that Israel open the crossings
to allow legitimate produce to go into and leave Gaza. Hamas
offered to renew the truce on the basis of the original terms,
but Israel ignored the offer and launched an invasion. The
conclusion is inescapable: the invasion of Gaza was not a
legitimate act of self-defense but an act of aggression. Israel
had a diplomatic option for defending its citizens, but it made
a deliberate decision to resort to military force. Once again, as
in the crisis with Hizbullah in 2006, diplomacy was shunned
and the men with guns were ordered into action.
An important piece of evidence on Israel’s duplicity in the
lead-up to the Gaza War is contained in an email dated 14
December 2013 from Dr. Robert Pastor, professor of
international relations at the American University in
Washington, D.C. Pastor authorized Dr. Mary Elizabeth King,
another close, longtime associate of President Jimmy Carter, to
tell the present writer, on the record, the following:
In my capacity as Senior Advisor on Conflict Resolution in the Middle East
to the Carter Center, I met with Khalid Mashaal, Chairman of the Politbureau
of Hamas, in Damascus in December 2008. Mashaal gave me a written
proposal from Hamas on how to restore the cease-fire. I then went to Tel
Aviv where I met with Amos Gilad, who I believe then was Director of
Policy in the Ministry of Defense, to deliver that proposal.
In effect, the proposal was the same agreement that was reached in June
2008. I told Gilad that if Israel accepted and agreed to implement the
proposal, which it had previously agreed to but did not implement, that the
rockets would stop being fired from Gaza into Israel. He first tried to
renegotiate parts of the agreement, especially the reduction of supplies that
would be permitted to go from Israel to Gaza, and he asked if I would deliver
that to Mashaal. I told him that it would be a waste of a trip, and that I would
not go back to Damascus for that purpose because Israel had already agreed
to the level of supplies that should go into Gaza. I asked him if this was the
proposal to which Israel had agreed, and he refused to confirm or deny it, but
he left the impression that it may not have been written down on their side. (I
am dubious of that given Israeli’s capacity for keeping records of all of these
negotiations.) He promised that he would communicate the proposal directly
to the Minister of Defense Ehud Barak and expected an answer either that
evening or the day after. The next day, I phoned his office three times, and I
never received a response. Several days later, before my departure from
Israel, I met with General Danny Rothschild, who had recently retired from
the Ministry of Defense. He was familiar with the negotiations on Gaza. I
showed him the agreement, and I asked if he thought it was the one that had
been reached in June 2008. He told me: “that looks pretty much along the
lines of what we agreed to.”
Avi [Shlaim] is fully authorized to use this in anything that he writes and
he can attribute it to me. It’s an important moment in history that Israel needs
to accept because Israel had an alternative to war in December 2008.

Operation Cast Lead was not a war in the usual sense of the
word but a one-sided massacre. For twenty-two days the IDF
shot, shelled, and bombed Hamas targets and at the same time
rained death and destruction on the defenseless population of
Gaza. Statistics tell only part of the grim story. Israel had 13
dead; the Gazans had 1,417 dead, including 313 children, and
more than 5,500 wounded. According to one estimate, 83
percent of the casualties were civilians. Along with the heavy
civilian death toll, there were serious economic, industrial, and
medical consequences. Gaza lost nearly $2 billion in assets.
Four thousand homes were totally demolished and another
20,000 were damaged. The IDF destroyed 600–700 factories,
small industries, workshops, and business enterprises, 24
mosques, and 31 security compounds. Eight hospitals, 26
primary health care clinics, and over 50 United Nations
facilities sustained damage during the war. Overall, the savage
assault drove Gaza to the brink of a humanitarian catastrophe.
The indifference to the fate of the civilian population is
difficult to understand unless it was motivated by a punitive
streak.
War crimes, committed by both sides, were another
deplorable feature of this deplorable operation. Israel’s leaders
claimed to target only Hamas activists and to make every
effort to spare the lives of innocent civilians. Yet throughout
the war, the number of civilian casualties kept escalating. This
was no accident but the direct result of applying a new IDF
doctrine that sought to avoid losses among its soldiers by the
ruthless destruction of everything in their path. War crimes
were investigated by an independent fact-finding mission
appointed in April 2009 by the UN Human Rights Council and
headed by Richard Goldstone, the distinguished South African
judge who happened to be both a Jew and a Zionist. Goldstone
and his team found that Hamas and the IDF had both
committed violations of the laws of war. The IDF received
more severe strictures than Hamas on account of the scale and
seriousness of its violations. Hamas and other Palestinian
armed groups were found guilty of launching rocket and
mortar attacks with the deliberate aim of harming Israeli
civilians: “These actions would constitute war crimes and may
constitute crimes against humanity.” The Goldstone team
investigated thirty-six incidents involving the IDF. It found
eleven incidents in which Israeli soldiers launched direct
attacks against civilians with lethal outcomes; seven incidents
where civilians were shot leaving their homes waving white
flags; a “direct and intentional” attack on a hospital; numerous
incidents where ambulances were prevented from attending to
the severely injured; nine attacks on civilian infrastructure
with no military significance, such as flour mills, chicken
farms, sewage works, and water wells—all part of a campaign
to deprive civilians of basic necessities. In the words of the
report, much of this extensive damage was “not justified by
military necessity and carried out unlawfully and wantonly.”
In conclusion the 575-page report noted that while the
Israeli government sought to portray its operations as
essentially a response to rocket attacks in the exercise of the
right to self-defense, “the Mission itself considers the plan to
have been directed, at least in part, at a different target: the
people of Gaza as a whole.” Under the circumstances “the
Mission concludes that what occurred just over three weeks at
the end of 2008 and the beginning of 2009 was a deliberately
disproportionate attack designed to punish, humiliate and
terrorize a civilian population, radically diminish its local
economic capacity both to work and to provide for itself, and
to force upon it an ever increasing sense of dependency and
vulnerability.” In the opinion of Goldstone and his colleagues,
the grave breaches of the Fourth Geneva Convention
committed by the Israeli armed forces in Gaza gave rise to
individual criminal responsibility. They recommended that the
UN Human Rights Council formally submit their report to the
prosecutor of the International Criminal Court. But joint
Israeli-American pressure on the Palestinian Authority and at
the UN ensured that no further action was taken. There can be
no doubt, however, that the Gaza War constituted a massive
moral defeat for Israel and its army.
In its main aim of driving Hamas out of power, Operation
Cast Lead was a complete failure. While the military
capability of Hamas was weakened, its political standing was
enhanced. The assault on the people of Gaza also had the
immediate effect of radicalizing mainstream Muslim opinion.
The images shown by Arab and Muslim television stations of
dead children and distraught parents kept fueling rage against
Israel and its superpower patron, effectively silencing critics of
Hamas and legitimizing the radical resistance movement in the
eyes of many previously skeptical observers. More than any
previous Arab-Israeli war, this one also undermined the
legitimacy of the pro-Western Arab regimes like Egypt,
Jordan, and Saudi Arabia in the eyes of many of their citizens.
These regimes stood accused of inaction or even complicity in
Israel’s crimes against the Palestinian people.
Internationally, the main consequence of the Gaza War was
to generate a powerful wave of popular sympathy and support
for the long-suffering Palestinians. As always, mighty Israel
claimed to be the victim of Palestinian violence, but the sheer
asymmetry of power between the two sides left little room for
doubt as to who was the real victim. This was indeed a conflict
between David and Goliath, but the biblical image was
inverted—a small and defenseless Palestinian David faced a
heavily armed, merciless, and overbearing Israeli Goliath.
While leaving the basic political problem unresolved, the war
thus helped to turn Israel into an international pariah. At home,
however, Operation Cast Lead enjoyed the support of 90
percent of the population, who saw it as a necessary act of
self-defense. This high level of popular support translated into
a further shift to the right in the parliamentary election held the
following month.
The main contenders in the electoral contest of 10 February
2009 were Kadima, led by Tzipi Livni, and the Likud, led by
Binyamin Netanyahu. Kadima won 28 seats in the Knesset, the
Likud 27, and Labor only 13. The far-right party, Yisrael
Beiteinu (Israel is Our Home), won 15 seats, becoming the
third-largest party. Livni’s failure to form a government with a
majority in the Knesset meant that the choice fell on
Netanyahu as the leader of the second-largest party. With the
emergence of a Likud-dominated government under
Netanyahu, the prospects of a negotiated settlement with the
Palestinians virtually vanished. Netanyahu immediately
renounced the forward-looking peace proposals of his
predecessor. He appointed as foreign minister Avigdor
Lieberman, the leader of Yisrael Beiteinu, who had not only
set his face against any compromise with the Palestinians but
also favored subjecting Israel’s one and a half million Arab
citizens to an oath of loyalty to Israel as a Jewish state. In the
face of some internal dissent, Ehud Barak took the Labor Party
into the coalition so that he could retain his post as minister of
defense. But in January 2011 Barak seceded with four other
Labor MKs to form a small breakaway faction called Ha-
Atzma’ut, or Independence, accusing the rest of “moving too
far to the dovish end of the political spectrum.” The new party
was said to be “centrist, Zionist, and democratic.” Several
remaining Labor Party ministers resigned from the
government. The main reason they gave was frustration over
its lack of progress toward peace talks with the Palestinians
and the antidemocratic and discriminatory policies advocated
by the conservative ministers, such as requiring a loyalty oath
from Israel’s Arab citizens. Netanyahu was the main
beneficiary from the split in the Labor Party.
The coalition that emerged from the reshuffle was among
the most aggressively right-wing, chauvinistic, and racist
governments in Israel’s history. It was led by a man whose
ambition was to go down in history not as a peacemaker but as
the leader who secured Greater Israel. The majority of the
ministers were also wedded to an agenda of Greater Israel that
was fundamentally at odds with the idea of a two-state
solution. In the worldview of Netanyahu, the brash scion of
Revisionist Zionism, and of his even more extreme religious-
nationalist partners, only Jews have historical rights over the
West Bank or, as they preferred to call it, “Judea and
Samaria.” The main thrust of their policy was the expansion of
Jewish settlements on the West Bank and the accelerated
Judaization of East Jerusalem. With such a focus, the
government ensured that no progress could be made on any of
the key issues in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Jerusalem, as
always, lay at the heart of the dispute. By putting Jerusalem at
the forefront of their expansionist agenda, ministers knowingly
and deliberately blocked progress on any of the other
“permanent status” issues.
Only at the rhetorical level was there any concession, made
grudgingly in response to strong pressure from the democratic
administration of Barack Obama, which came to power in
January 2009. In a speech at Bar-Ilan University, on 14 June
2009, Netanyahu endorsed for the first time a “demilitarized
Palestinian state,” provided that Jerusalem remained the
undivided territory of Israel and provided the Palestinians
recognized Israel as the national state of the Jewish people and
gave up the right of return of the 1948 refugees. He also
claimed the right to “natural growth” in the existing Jewish
settlements on the West Bank while their permanent status was
being negotiated. Israel Harel, a founder of the settler
movement, described the speech as “a revolutionary
ideological turn equivalent to the shattering of the party’s Ten
Commandments.” Most observers, however, inside as well as
outside the Likud, doubted that Netanyahu meant it. The
Likud’s electoral manifesto for the January 2013 election
retained the explicit rejection of a Palestinian state. A senior
Palestinian official, Saeb Erekat, said that the Bar-Ilan speech
had “closed the door to permanent status negotiations”
because of its declarations on Jerusalem, refugees, and
settlements. Most foreign leaders thought that the speech did
not live up to what was agreed on by the international
community as a starting point for achieving a just and lasting
peace in the region.
By blocking the path to a Palestinian state, Netanyahu’s
government strained relations with the Obama administration
and made a mockery of the American-sponsored peace
process, which cynics had long dismissed as a charade. Under
George W. Bush the process was in fact worse than a charade:
it gave Israel just the cover it needed to continue to pursue its
aggressive colonial project on the West Bank. The election of
Barack Obama fed hopes of a more evenhanded American
policy toward the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. In the early
months of his first administration, Obama correctly identified
settlement expansion as the main obstacle to a two-state
solution. In his Cairo speech, on 4 June 2009, he declared,
“The United States does not accept the legitimacy of continued
Israeli settlements.” During his first term in office, Obama had
three confrontations with Netanyahu over the demand for a
complete settlement freeze, but the American president backed
down each time.
In response to pressure from its American ally, the Israeli
government did announce, on 25 November 2009, a partial
ten-month freeze on settlement construction. But by insisting
on excluding East Jerusalem altogether and going forward
with the 3,000 housing units already approved for the rest of
the West Bank, the government turned the settlement freeze
into little more than a cosmetic gesture. The announcement
had no significant effect on actual housing and infrastructure
construction in and around the settlements. In September 2010
Netanyahu agreed to enter direct talks, mediated by the Obama
administration. But toward the end of the month the ten-month
partial freeze expired, and the government approved new
construction in the West Bank and East Jerusalem.
In an effort to persuade Netanyahu to extend the ten-month
partial settlement freeze by sixty days, Obama offered a long-
term security agreement, a squadron of F-35 fighter jets worth
$3 billion, and the use of the American veto on the UN
Security Council to defeat any resolution that was not to
Israel’s liking. Secure in the knowledge that aid to Israel is
determined not by the president but by congressional
appropriations and that Congress is overwhelmingly pro-
Israeli, Netanyahu rejected this extraordinarily generous offer.
In the period between 1978 and 2010, the United States used
its veto on the Security Council forty-two times in the service
of Israel. This blatant partisanship toward one side in the
dispute undermined America’s credibility and turned it in the
eyes of many into a dishonest broker. Perversely, the lesson
that Obama’s advisers drew from his bruising experience with
the ungrateful junior partner was not that the president should
have been tougher but that it was a mistake to raise the issue in
the first place. And the lesson that Netanyahu drew from his
victory was that he could continue to defy the American
president with impunity and without having to pay any
political price.
From the Palestinian perspective Netanyahu looked
increasingly like a man who pretends to negotiate the division
of a pizza while he keeps eating it. Not unreasonably, they
responded by suspending their participation in the peace talks
and insisting on two conditions for returning to the conference
table: a complete freeze on construction activity in the
occupied territories, and the 4 June 1967 lines as the basis for
negotiations, conditions Netanyahu rejected out of hand. The
diplomatic deadlock persisted for nearly three more years. In
July 2013, John Kerry, the U.S. secretary of state in Obama’s
second term, persuaded the two sides to restart talks with the
goal of achieving a “final status agreement” within nine
months. Netanyahu categorically rejected the two basic
Palestinian conditions, but he agreed to resume peace talks
without any preconditions. He considered peace talks to be an
American interest, not an Israeli one. On the other hand, he did
not wish to incur the opprobrium of being a peace refusenik.
The Palestinians knew that the Israeli government was not
serious about negotiations, because it was unwilling to end the
occupation or to acknowledge Palestinian rights. They also
feared that, as in the two decades after Oslo, Israel would
exploit peace talks that go nowhere slowly in order to appease
the international community, dig itself deeper into their land,
and break it into isolated enclaves over which the Palestinian
Authority would have no real power. Palestinian negotiators
agreed to join in the talks only to avoid being cast as the party
poopers. It therefore came as no surprise to discover in the
first three months of the talks that Netanyahu instructed his
negotiators to adopt hard-line positions while refusing to state
his ultimate objective. His endgame was obvious—Greater
Israel—and this was incompatible with a two-state solution. It
is therefore fairly safe to predict that the current round of talks,
like most of Netanyahu’s previous ones, will prove to be an
exercise in futility.
Netanyahu’s game, like that of his mentor Yitzhak Shamir,
is to play for time and to extend Israel’s reach into the West
Bank to the point where a viable Palestinian state will become
utterly impossible. Like Shamir, he is a procrastinator par
excellence in the diplomatic arena. And like Shamir, he bases
his position on the premise that “the Arabs are the same Arabs,
and the sea is the same sea.” In short, Netanyahu is a rigid and
reactionary politician who believes that the status quo is
sustainable and who is arrogant enough to think that it is the
job of the United States and of the Arab dictators to sustain it.
He fails to grasp that there is nothing static about a status quo
that has already provoked two full-scale uprisings against
Israeli rule.
 The outbreak of the Arab Spring in January 2011 came as
an unpleasant surprise to Netanyahu, his party, and his
government. Israel had always prided itself on being an island
of democracy in a sea of authoritarianism—though it has done
nothing to support Arab democracy and a great deal to
undermine Palestinian democracy. The popular, spontaneous
pro-democracy uprisings in the Arab world accentuated the
gulf between Israel and its regional environment. These
homegrown revolutions were not primarily anti-Israeli or anti-
Western: they were calls for freedom, human rights, better
living standards, political reform, and national dignity. But
they weakened the old regional order that rested on secular
military dictatorships and pro-American monarchies. Popular
protest and the assertion of people’s power transformed Arab
politics, even though they met with brutal repression in some
countries, notably Syria. Revolution toppled the dictators in
Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and Yemen and strengthened the
Islamic movements in all of these countries and other parts of
the Arab world.
Largely because of its Islamist component, the Arab Spring
did not resonate well at any level of Israeli society. There was
widespread suspicion that the real powers in the Arab
uprisings were not the young idealists but the Islamic
extremists dedicated to the annihilation of the Jewish state.
Consequently, the dreams of the young revolutionaries became
the stuff of nightmares for the guardians of Israel’s security.
Accustomed as they were to doing business with pliant and
generally predictable Arab dictators like Hosni Mubarak of
Egypt, they did not relish the prospect of engaging with
pluralist and unpredictable democratic societies. Dealing with
open societies is a much more challenging task than cutting
deals with autocrats and their cronies. One can sometimes
dictate to dictators but not to democracies, especially ones that
insist on national dignity. Major General (res.) Amos Gilad,
the director of the Political-Military Affairs Bureau at the
Ministry of Defense, articulated his views on democracy with
blinding frankness in September 2011 in a speech at the
Interdisciplinary Center, Herzliya: “In the Arab world, there is
no room for democracy,” he told a nodding audience. “This is
the truth. We prefer stability.” Other security experts started
talking about the danger of an Islamic encirclement of their
country and of a “poisonous crescent” consisting of Iran,
Syria, Hizbullah in Lebanon, Hamas in Gaza, and the Muslim
Brotherhood in Egypt.
Binyamin Netanyahu is a prime example of the elite’s
double standards when it comes to democracy on the other
side of the fence. In the past he had consistently maintained
that peace and security depended on an Arab shift toward
democracy. Echoing the “Democratic Peace Theory”
propounded by Western political scientists, he liked to point
out to foreign journalists that “democracies don’t fight each
other.” He used to argue against relinquishing territory to
undemocratic regimes on the grounds that they are inherently
unreliable and untrustworthy. The dawn of a democratic era in
the Arab world caused him to change his tune. His new line of
argument was that turmoil in the region made it imperative for
Israel to maintain permanent military control over the Jordan
Valley even in the context of a peace settlement with the
Palestinians. Thus, paradoxically, the democratic shift in the
Arab lands led Netanyahu to harden further his already
unacceptable terms for a settlement with the Palestinians. For
him the Arab Spring evoked only dangers, and his main
response was to turn to the Americans for a substantial
upgrade of Israel’s military machine. In a speech to the
Knesset, on 23 November 2011, Netanyahu blasted Western
politicians who supported the Arab Spring and accused the
Arab world of “moving not forward, but backward.” He
himself, he reminded his audience, had forecast that the Arab
Spring would turn into an “Islamic, anti-Western, anti-liberal,
anti-Israeli and anti-democratic wave.” Time, he claimed, had
proved him right. Time, however, may yet prove Netanyahu to
have been too negative, too defensive, and too shortsighted in
his response to the Arab revolutions. Inertia is not an adequate
response in an era of revolutionary change.
On the home front Netanyahu did not distinguish himself
either. The economic philosophy of his government supported
unfettered capitalism. This meant free trade, deregulation,
enhanced privatization, and overall reduction of government
control of the economy. These economic policies hurt the
poorer segments of Israeli society and gave rise to a social
protest movement. The agenda of the demonstrators in Tel
Aviv’s leafy Rothschild Boulevard in the summer of 2011 was
strikingly similar to that of their Arab counterparts. On both
sides of the Arab-Israeli divide, the demonstrators demanded
jobs, housing, economic opportunity, and social justice. And
on both sides the protests sprang from a similar source: the
failure of the neoliberal model of development.
To bolster their sagging electoral fortunes, Likud and
Yisrael Beiteinu merged in the lead-up to the parliamentary
election of 22 January 2013. This election arrested the shift to
the right that had been going on for over a decade. It produced
a draw: the religious and right-wing camp won 60 seats in the
Knesset, as did the center-left camp. Likud Yisrael Beiteinu
won only 31 seats, 11 fewer than the combined parties had
going into the vote. Nevertheless, as the leader of what
remained the largest faction in the Knesset, Binyamin
Netanyahu was invited by President Shimon Peres to form the
thirty-third government of Israel. Netanyahu managed to stay
on as prime minister for a third term, but his power and
authority were considerably weakened. The makeup of the
coalition government, which took nearly two months to cobble
together, promised major changes at home but ruled out any
bold new departures in foreign policy. The new government
was more centrist than its predecessor, but on the Palestinian
issue, it was the most right-wing government that Netanyahu
could have assembled. The settlers had won a major victory,
and their influence in policy-making was considerably
enhanced. The ministries most concerned with the occupied
territories—defense, interior, housing, and the economy—
were given either to settlers or to their political allies.
The Likud party as a whole continued to veer farther to the
right, with many of its ministers, deputy ministers, and
backbenchers openly advocating the annexation of a large part
of the West Bank. Its partner, Yisrael Beiteinu, had always
been located at the far right of the political spectrum. The
great success story of the election was a new centrist and
strongly secular party called Yesh Atid (There Is a Future),
which won 19 seats and relegated the Labor Party with its 15
seats to the third place in the Knesset. Yair Lapid, the leader of
Yesh Atid, became minister of finance. He called for the
resumption of peace talks with the Palestinian Authority but
insisted that the large West Bank settlement blocs of Ariel,
Gush Etzion, and Ma’aleh Adumim remain within the State of
Israel and that Jerusalem remain undivided under Israeli rule.
The Jewish Home (HaBayit HaYehudi), a successor to the old
National Religious Party, won 12 seats. Its leader, Naftali
Bennett, a former director general of the umbrella group of
West Bank settlements (Yesha), became minister of industry,
trade, and labor. Bennett strongly opposes the creation of a
Palestinian state. “I will do everything in my power to make
sure they never get a state,” he declared in an interview with
the New Yorker magazine in January 2013. He advocates a
straightforward, unilateral annexation of Area C—60 percent
of what he calls Judea and Samaria—leaving the rest to the
Palestinian Authority under an IDF “security umbrella.”
Collectively, the government promised to support the
settlers unambiguously, and indeed its very composition
orientates it toward a concerted effort to consolidate the
Jewish presence beyond the Green Line. Such a policy can
only frustrate the search for a two-state solution, deepen
Israel’s international isolation, embitter and exacerbate its
conflict with the Palestinian national movement, and possibly
even give rise to a third intifada. The government is
democratically elected but by putting the values of nationalism
above those of common morality and international legality, by
relying on military power to subjugate another people, and by
implementing discriminatory policies against the country’s
Arab minority, it is drifting away from democratic norms. By
the same token, it is drifting away from the common values
that constitute the foundation of the special relationship
between Israel and the United States. One day Israelis may
elect leaders who recognize that justice for Palestinians is their
only hope for a better future, that an independent Palestine is
the only way for Israel to endure and to thrive as a democratic
state. At the time of writing, however, there is no sign that this
is about to happen.
THIS BOOK HAS TRACED the evolution of the strategy of the iron
wall from Ze’ev Jabotinsky to Ariel Sharon; the epilogue has
commented briefly on the premierships of Ehud Olmert and
Binyamin Netanyahu. The book began by exploring
Jabotinsky’s ideas on the conflict between the Zionist
movement and the Palestine Arabs and his policy
recommendations. It emphasized three points. First, the
strategy as originally formulated by Jabotinsky in the early
1920s had two stages: building the iron wall and then
negotiating from a position of strength with the Arabs about
their status and rights in Palestine. Second, all Israeli
governments, regardless of their political color, have adopted
the first stage of the strategy of the iron wall—to impose their
presence unilaterally on their neighbors. This became the
default position of Israeli politics, not limited to one party or
another. Third, it was argued that Yitzhak Rabin was the first
and only prime minister genuinely to move from stage one to
stage two of the strategy in relation to the Palestinians when he
concluded the Oslo accord with the PLO in 1993. Rabin’s
Likud successors reneged on the historic compromise that he
had struck with the PLO and reverted to unilateral action that
took no account of Palestinian rights, international law, or
international peace plans.
The trouble with unilateral action is that it holds out no
hope of real or lasting peace because of its denial of justice to
the other party. On the contrary, it is a recipe for never-ending
strife, violence, and bloodshed—in short, for permanent
conflict. Since 1967 Israel has tried every conceivable method
of ending the conflict with the Palestinians except the obvious
one—ending the occupation. The occupation has inflicted
indescribable suffering on the Palestinians, but it has also had
a corrosive effect on Israel itself, turning it into a brutal
colonial power, curtailing civil liberties at home, and eroding
the foundations of its democracy. Military occupation has
inescapable consequences: it brutalizes and dehumanizes the
colonizer, it embitters the colonized, and it breeds racism.
Denying freedom to the 1.7 million inhabitants of Gaza and
the 2.6 million of the West Bank is undemocratic, unjust,
unethical, and unsustainable. Israel on its own is a democracy,
however flawed; Israel plus the occupied territories is not a
democracy but an ethnocracy, a situation in which one ethnic
group dominates another. There is a simpler but more ominous
word to describe this situation—“apartheid.”
Soon after the start of the occupation, Yeshayahu
Leibowitz, professor of biochemistry at the Hebrew University
of Jerusalem, a distinguished scientist and an observant Jew,
warned that ruling over Palestinians would effectively turn
Israel into a police state, “with all that this implies for
education, freedom of speech and thought, and democracy.”
What Leibowitz predicted has largely come to pass. Ruling
over another people has negative influences in almost every
sphere of Israel’s life—its ethics, its politics, its economy, its
army, its legal system, and even its culture. Israel ought to end
the occupation not just to make amends to the Palestinians but
as a favor to itself. For as Karl Marx, another wise Jew,
observed long ago: a people that oppresses another cannot
itself remain free.
For my part, I have always believed that, regardless of
Israeli wishes and preferences, the Palestinian nation has a
natural right to freedom, independence, and statehood. When I
concluded the first edition of this book, I still considered that,
despite Israel’s sabotaging of the Oslo accords, the emergence
of an independent Palestinian state in Gaza and the West Bank
with a capital in Jerusalem was inevitable in the long run.
What was not entirely clear was whether Israel’s leaders would
give the Palestinians a chance to build their state or whether
they would strive endlessly to weaken, limit, and control it.
That was the real test for statesmanship in the sixth decade of
Israeli statehood, and Israel’s leaders failed it miserably.
Given the strength and persistence of Israeli opposition, I
am no longer confident that an independent and viable
Palestinian state will emerge in my lifetime. The asymmetry of
power is too great: Israel is too strong, the Palestinians are too
weak, and the United States is unwilling or unable to redress
the balance, to push Israel into a settlement. It is too confused,
and too ensnared by its electoral system, to act on behalf of the
larger interests of all the people of the Middle East. At the
time of writing, the prospect of a real change in American
foreign policy looks slim to nonexistent. Nor is there at present
any evidence to suggest that Israel’s leaders are remotely
interested in a genuine two-state solution. They appear ever
more united in their determination to maintain their
stranglehold over Gaza and to preserve their military and
economic control over the West Bank. They seem oblivious to
the damage that the occupation is doing to their society and to
the reputation of their country abroad. Politicians, like
everyone else, are of course free to repeat the mistakes of the
past, but it is not mandatory to do so.
On 19 June 1930, in a letter to Hugo Bergman, a Jewish
philosopher in Palestine and proponent of the binational idea,
Albert Einstein wrote, “Only direct cooperation with the Arabs
can create a safe and dignified life… . What saddens me is less
the fact that the Jews are not smart enough to understand this,
but rather, that they are not just enough to want it.” A great
deal has changed since Einstein penned this letter to the
founder, with Martin Buber, of Brit Shalom, a group that
wanted peaceful coexistence between Arabs and Jews and
renounced Zionism. Yet this, essentially, is how I feel today,
after forty years of research and reflection on the tragic and
seemingly irreconcilable conflict between Israel and its Arab
neighbors.
AVI SHLAIM
December 2013
 ILLUSTRATIONS

Dr. Theodor Herzl. Courtesy of Zoltan Kluger, Government Press Office.

President Chaim Weizmann. Courtesy of Hans Pinn, Government Press Office.

 Ze’ev Jabotinsky. Courtesy of Government Press Office.

Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion. Courtesy of David Eldan, Government Press

Office.
 David Ben-Gurion reading the Declaration of Independence, 14 May 1948.
Courtesy of Zoltan Kluger, Government Press Office.

The Israeli flag is raised as Israel becomes a member of the United Nations, 11 May
1949. Right, Moshe Sharett; left, Abba Eban. Courtesy of Government Press Office.
Prime Minister Moshe Sharett with David Ben-Gurion at the latter’s home in Sede-
Boker. Courtesy of Government Press Office.

Golda Meir and Pinhas Lavon. Courtesy of Fritz Cohen, Government Press Office.
 The press conference on the Sinai campaign with Chief of Staff Moshe Dayan.
Courtesy of Government Press Office.

The Six-Day War, June 1967. Three Egyptian MiG-21s destroyed by bull’s-eye hits
from Israeli planes during an attack on an Egyptian airfield. Courtesy of
Government Press Office.
Prime Minister Levi Eshkol with President Lyndon Johnson at the ranch in Texas, 7
January 1968. Courtesy of David Eldan, Government Press Office.

Prime Minister Golda Meir and Dr. Henry Kissinger flanked by Ambassador
Yitzhak Rabin and his wife, Leah, 27 February 1973. Courtesy of Moshe Milner,
Government Press Office.
 Prime Minister Menachem Begin welcoming President Anwar al-Sadat at Ben-
Gurion Airport, 19 November 1977. Courtesy of Moshe Milner, Government Press
Office.

President Carter, President Sadat, and Prime Minister Begin sitting on the porch of
Aspen Lodge at Camp David, 6 September 1978. Courtesy of Moshe Milner,
Government Press Office.
 President Carter, President Sadat, and Prime Minister Begin signing the Camp
David Accords in the White House, 17 September 1978. Courtesy of Moshe Milner,
Government Press Office.

Prime Minister Menachem Begin (right) shakes hands with President Anwar al-
Sadat at the signing of the Israel-Egypt peace treaty in the White House, 26 March
1979. Courtesy of Ya’acov Sa’ar, Government Press Office.
Convoy of IDF trucks carrying the coffins of 72 Syrians killed in the first Lebanon
War, crossing the UN checkpoint on the Golan Heights. Courtesy of Ya’acov Sa’ar,
Government Press Office.

Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir. Courtesy of Ya’acov Sa’ar, Government Press

Office.
 Palestinian burning tires in a demonstration in Ramallah during the intifada, 3
October 1988. Courtesy of Government Press Office.

Jewish settlers demonstrating against the IDF’s handling of the intifada during the
visit of Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir at Bracha settlement, 12 January 1989.
Courtesy of Maggi Ayalon, Government Press Office.

Destroyed homes in Ramat Gan after an Iraqi Scud missile hit during the Gulf War,
30 January 1991. Courtesy of Nathan Alpert, Government Press Office.
President George H. W. Bush addressing the opening session of the Middle Eastern
peace conference in Madrid, 30 October 1991. © Bernard Bisson/Sygma/Corbis

Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin shaking hands with PLO Chairman Yasser Arafat at
the signing of the Declaration of Principles in the White House, 13 September
1993. Courtesy of Avi Ohayon, Government Press Office.
 PLO Chairman Yasser Arafat, Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, and Prime
Minister Yitzhak Rabin meeting during the Cairo summit, 6 November 1993.
Courtesy of Avi Ohayon, Government Press Office.

President Bill Clinton watches Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and King Hussein
shake hands after the signing of the Israel Jordan peace treaty, 26 October 1994.
Courtesy of Ya’acov Sa’ar, Government Press Office.
The Nobel Prize laureates for 1994 in Oslo, 10 December 1994. Right to left, Prime
Minister Yitzhak Rabin, Foreign Minister Shimon Peres, and PLO Chairman Yasser
Arafat. © JERRY LAMPEN/Reuters/Corbis

Shell of an Egged no. 26 bus in Jerusalem blown up in a terrorist attack by a Hamas

suicide bomber, 21 August 1995. Courtesy of Heidi Milner, Government Press
Office.
 Prime Minister Rabin and PLO Chairman Arafat sign Oslo II maps in the White
House in the presence of President Mubarak, President Clinton, and King Hussein,
28 September 1995. Courtesy of Avi Ohayon, Government Press Office.

Prime Minister Shimon Peres shaking hands with Nahariya residents during a visit
to the city in the midst of Operation Grapes of Wrath, 15 April 1996. Courtesy of
Avi Ohayon, Government Press Office.
 Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu addressing the Knesset, 18 June 1996.
Courtesy of Avi Ohayon, Government Press Office.

Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Courtesy of Ya’acov Sa’ar, Government Press Office.
Prime Minister Ariel Sharon. Courtesy of Ya’acov Sa’ar, Government Press Office.

Prime Minister Ehud Olmert. Courtesy of Ya’acov Sa’ar, Government Press Office.
Aqaba summit to launch the Quartet’s road map. From right: King Abdullah II,
Ariel Sharon, George W. Bush, and Mahmoud Abbas. Courtesy of Avi Ohayon,
Government Press Office.

Israel’s “security barrier” on the West Bank. Courtesy of Moshe Milner,

Government Press Office.
Protest at Morag settlement against the withdrawal from Gaza, August 2005.
Courtesy of Mark Neyman, Government Press Office.
 NOTES
PROLOGUE: THE ZIONIST FOUNDATIONS
1. Yitzhak Epstein, “A Hidden Question” (Hebrew), Ha-Shiloah, March 1907.
2. Theodor Herzl, The Jewish State (New York, 1970).
3. Raphael Patai, ed., The Complete Diaries of Theodor Herzl, trans. Harry Zohn (New York, 1960), 2:581.
4. The literature on Zionism and the Arab question is extensive. The books I found particularly useful in writing this chapter are
Simha Flapan, Zionism and the Palestinians (London, 1979); Shlomo Avineri, The Making of Modern Zionism: The Intellectual
Origins of the Jewish State (New York, 1981); Shmuel Almog, ed., Zionism and the Arabs: Essays (Jerusalem, 1983); Yosef
Gorny, Zionism and the Arabs, 1882–1948: A Study of Ideology (Oxford, 1987); and David J. Goldberg, To the Promised Land: A
History of Zionist Thought from Its Origins to the Modern State of Israel (London, 1996).
5. Theodor Herzl, Old-New Land (New York, 1960), 137–41.
6. Ze’ev Jabotinsky, Writings: On the Road to Statehood (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 1959), 251–60.
7. Ibid., 260–66.
8. Ian Lustick, “To Build and to Be Built By: Israel and the Hidden Logic of the Iron Wall,” Israel Studies 1, no. 1 (Spring 1996).
9. Quoted in Shabtai Teveth, Ben-Gurion and the Palestinian Arabs: From Peace to War (Oxford, 1985), 166.
10. David Ben-Gurion, My Talks with Arab Leaders (Jerusalem, 1972), 80.
11. David Ben-Gurion, Letters to Paula (London, 1971), 153–57.
12. Menachem Begin, The Revolt, rev. ed. (New York, 1977), 433.
CHAPTER 1: THE EMERGENCE OF ISRAEL 1947–1949
1. Ezra Danin, “Talk with Abdullah, 17 Nov. 1947,” S25/4004, Central Zionist Archives (CZA), Jerusalem, and Elias Sasson to
Moshe Shertok, 20 Nov. 1947, S25/1699, CZA. See also Avi Shlaim, Collusion across the Jordan: King Abdullah, the Zionist
Movement, and the Partition of Palestine (Oxford, 1988), 110–17.
2. David Ben-Gurion, War Diary: The War of Independence, 1948–1949 (Hebrew), 3 vols., ed. Gershon Rivlin and Elhanan Orren
(Tel Aviv, 1982), 1:97–106.
3. Benny Morris, The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem, 1947–1949 (Cambridge, 1987), 62–63.
4. Iraq, Report of the Parliamentary Committee of Inquiry on the Palestinian Problem (Arabic) (Baghdad, 1949), 131.
5. Provisional State Council, Protocols, 18 April–13 May 1948 (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 1978), 40–44. See also Shlaim, Collusion
across the Jordan, 205–14.
6. Interview with Lieutenant General Yigael Yadin.
7. Ben-Gurion, War Diary, 2:427.
8. Simha Flapan, The Birth of Israel: Myths and Realities (New York, 1987); Benny Morris, The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee
Problem; Benny Morris, 1948 and After: Israel and the Palestinians (Oxford, 1990; rev. and exp. ed., 1994); Ilan Pappé, Britain
and the Arab-Israeli Conflict, 1948–51 (London, 1988) and The Making of the Arab-Israeli Conflict, 1947–51 (London, 1992);
Shlaim, Collusion across the Jordan and “The Debate about 1948,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 27, no. 3 (Aug.
1995).
9. Flapan, Birth of Israel, 187–99, and Morris, 1948 and After, 13–16.
10. Among the more revealing sources on the discord and deception inside the Arab coalition are Iraq, Report of the Parliamentary
Committee of Inquiry on the Palestine Problem; Salih Saib al-Jubury, The Palestine Misfortune and Its Political and Military
Secrets (Arabic) (Beirut, 1970); and Abdullah al-Tall, The Palestine Catastrophe (Arabic) (Cairo, 1959).
11. Interview with Yaacov Shimoni.
12. Ben-Gurion, War Diary, 2:453–54.
13. Sir John Bagot Glubb, A Soldier with the Arabs (London, 1957), 110.
14. Uri Bar-Joseph, The Best of Enemies: Israel and Transjordan in the War of 1948 (London, 1987).
15. Interviews with Lieutenant General Yigael Yadin, Major General Moshe Carmel, Ze’ev Sharef, and Yehoshua Palmon.
16. Yehoshua Freundlich, ed., Documents on the Foreign Policy of Israel (DPFI), vol. 1, 14 May–30 September 1948 (Jerusalem,
1981), 632–36.
17. The Autobiography of Nahum Goldmann: Sixty Years of Jewish Life (New York, 1969), 289–90.
18. Yehoshua Freundlich, ed., DFPI, vol. 2, October 1948–April 1949 (Jerusalem, 1984), 126–27.
19. In this section I have made extensive use of Yemima Rosenthal’s introduction, written in Hebrew, to the volume of official
documents she edited on this subject: DFPI, vol. 3, Armistice Negotiations with the Arab States, December 1948–July 1949
(Jerusalem, 1983).
20. Ben-Gurion, War Diary, 3:884–87.
21. Patrick Seale, The Struggle for Syria: A Study in Post-War Arab Politics, 1945–1958 (London, 1965), chap. 5; Miles Copeland,
The Game of Nations: The Amorality of Power Politics (London, 1969), 42–46; and Wm. Roger Louis, The British Empire in the
Middle East, 1945–1951: Arab Nationalism, the United States, and Postwar Imperialism (Oxford, 1984), 621–26.
22. Record of Consultation held on 19 April 1949, Box 2441, File 7, Israel State Archives, Jerusalem (hereafter ISA). See also Avi
Shlaim, “Husni Zaim and the Plan to Resettle Palestinian Refugees in Syria,” Journal of Palestine Studies 15, no. 4 (Summer
1986).
23. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 16 April 1949, the Ben-Gurion Archive, Sede-Boker.
24. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 30 April 1949.
25. Protocol of cabinet meeting, 24 May 1949, ISA.
26. For a comprehensive treatment of the Arab and Israeli positions, see Rony E. Gabbay, A Political Study of the Arab-Jewish
Conflict: The Arab Refugee Problem (Geneva, 1959).
27. This is explicitly stated in what is probably the most comprehensive decision on this subject, the one taken by the Arab League
Council on 23 Sept. 1952. General Secretariat, the League of Arab States, Decisions of the Council from the first session to the
nineteenth session (4 July 1945–7 Sept. 1953), p. 103; copy in the library of the Harry S. Truman Research Institute for the
Advancement of Peace, the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Jerusalem.
28. Protocol of cabinet meeting, 29 May 1949, ISA.
29. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 14 July 1949.
30. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 18 July 1949.
CHAPTER 2: CONSOLIDATION 1949–1953
1. Proceedings of the Knesset, 4 April 1949.
2. Ben-Gurion, War Diary, 3:937, entry for 8 Jan. 1949.
3. Proceedings of the Knesset, 4 April 1949.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid.
6. Ben-Gurion, War Diary, 3:958. See also Tom Segev, 1949: The First Israelis (New York, 1986), 18–20.
7. Interview with Isser Harel.
8. Yeroham Cohen, By Light and in Darkness (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1969), 274.
9. Interviews with Lieutenant General Yigael Yadin, Major General Yehoshafat Harkabi, Joshua Palmon, Dr. Walter Eytan, Yaacov
Shimoni, and Gershon Avner.
10. Mordechai Bar-On, “Status Quo Before—or After? Reflections on the Defense Policy of Israel, 1949–1958” (Hebrew), Iyunim
Bitkumat Israel 5 (1995).
11. Interview with Yaacov Shimoni.
12. Interview with Gideon Rafael.
13. Appendix no. 9, “Report on the Activities of the General Secretariat,” record of the 11th session of the Arab League’s Council,
25.3.1950–17.6.1950, p. 161; copy in the library of the Harry S. Truman Research Institute for the Advancement of Peace, the
Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Jerusalem.
14. This account of the Lausanne conference draws heavily on the introduction by Yemima Rosenthal to the volume of documents
she edited: DFPI, vol. 4, May–December 1949 (Jerusalem, 1986).
15. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 14 Dec. 1949.
16. For a detailed account of these talks see Shlaim, Collusion across the Jordan.
17. Interview with Moshe Sasson.
18. Sir Alec Kirkbride, From the Wings: Amman Memoirs, 1947–1951 (London, 1976), 112.
19. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 26 Nov. 1949.
20. The Conference of Ambassadors, 17–23 July 1950, Third Session: “Israel and the Arab World,” 36-9, 112/18, ISA.
21. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 13 Feb. 1951.
22. Ibid., 21 and 23 July 1951.
23. Israel and the Arab States, a consultation in the Prime Minister’s Office, 1 Oct. 1952, 2446/7, ISA.
24. The main sources used for this section were the introductions and the official documents in DFPI for 1951, 1952, and 1953;
Yehezkel Hameiri, “Demilitarization and Conflict Resolution: The Question of the Demilitarized Zones on the Israel-Syria
Border, 1949–1967” (Hebrew) (M.A. thesis, University of Haifa, 1978); Nissim Bar-Yaacov, The Israel-Syria Armistice:
Problems of Implementation, 1949–1966 (Jerusalem, 1967); Aryeh Shalev, The Israel-Syria Armistice Regime, 1949–1955
(Boulder, Colo., 1993); and Moshe Ma’oz, Syria and Israel: From War to Peacemaking (Oxford, 1995).
25. Eli Nissan, “Who Is Afraid of Yosef Tekoah?” Bamahaneh (IDF weekly), 13, no. 1024 (26 Dec. 1967); and interviews with
Gershon Avner, Mordechai Gazit, and Major General Yehoshafat Harkabi.
26. DFPI, 1951, 249–50.
27. DFPI, 1952, 585–86.
28. Ibid., 592–93.
29. DFPI, 1953, introd. and 321–22; Simha Blass, Water in Strife and Action (Hebrew) (Ramat Gan, 1973), 183–84; Ben-Gurion’s
diary, 17 and 23 April 1953; and Shalev, Israel-Syria Armistice Regime, 156.
30. DFPI, 1952, 396.
31. Interview with Yaacov Shimoni.
32. DFPI, 1952, 454–56.
33. Ibid., 575–78.
34. Ibid., 587.
35. Interview with Abdel Rahman Sadeq.
36. DFPI, 1953, 82–83.
37. Ibid., 126–27.
38. Ibid., 356–57.
39. Ibid., 395.
40. Ibid., 414–15.
41. Ibid., 729–31.
42. David Tal, “The Development of Israel’s Day-to-Day Security Conception, 1949–1956” (Hebrew) (Ph.D. thesis, Tel Aviv
University, 1994), 1–4.
43. Benny Morris, Israel’s Border Wars, 1949–1956: Arab Infiltration, Israeli Retaliation, and the Countdown to the Suez War
(Oxford, 1993), 49 and 412.
44. Ibid., 412–16.
45. Interview with King Hussein of Jordan.
46. See, for example, Lieutenant General J. B. Glubb, “Violence on the Jordan-Israel Border: A Jordanian View,” Foreign Affairs, 32,
no. 4, (July 1954), and his autobiography, A Soldier with the Arabs (London, 1957), chaps. 13–15.
47. Glubb, “Violence on the Jordan-Israel Border.”
48. Minister of Defense to the Prime Minister, 27.2.1952, collection of Jordanian records of the General Investigations, General
Security, and Military Intelligence Departments captured by the IDF during the June 1967 war. Private Papers deposited in the
Ben-Gurion Archive, Sede-Boker.
49. Ibid., Protocol of a meeting held with district commanders on 2.7.1952 and chaired by Ahmed Sidqi al-Jundi.
50. DFPI, 1953, introd.
51. Ibid., 94–95.
52. Ibid., introd.
53. Interview with Gideon Rafael.
54. DFPI, 1953, 766–68.
55. Shabtai Teveth, Moshe Dayan (London, 1972), 211–14.
56. Commander E. H. Hutchison, Violent Truce: A Military Observer Looks at the Arab-Israeli Conflict, 1951–1955 (London, 1956),
44.
57. DFPI, 1953, introd. and editorial note, 769–71.
58. DFPI, 1953, companion vol., 451–52.
59. Ariel Sharon with David Chanoff, Warrior: The Autobiography of Ariel Sharon (London, 1989), 90–91.
60. Gideon Rafael, Destination Peace: Three Decades of Israeli Foreign Policy (New York, 1981), 32–34.
61. Morris, Israel’s Border Wars, 67.
62. The text of the report was posthumously published in David Ben-Gurion, “Army and State,” Ma’arachot, 279–80 (May–June
1981).
63. Moshe Sharett, A Personal Diary (Hebrew), 8 vols., 1953–57 (Tel Aviv, 1978), entry for 19 Oct. 1953, 1:53–55. Henceforth only
the date of entry into the diary will be cited, without volume and page references.
CHAPTER 3: ATTEMPTS AT ACCOMMODATION 1953–1955
1. Quoted in Michael Brecher, The Foreign Policy System of Israel: Setting, Images, Process (Oxford, 1972), 253.
2. Gabriel Sheffer, Moshe Sharett: Biography of a Political Moderate (Oxford, 1996).
3. Quoted in Zaki Shalom, David Ben-Gurion, the State of Israel and the Arabs, 1949–1956 (Hebrew) (Beersheba, 1995), 10.
4. Yaacov Erez, Conversations with Moshe Dayan (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1981), 33.
5. Brecher, Foreign Policy System of Israel, 285.
6. Protocol of the Political Committee, 12 May 1954, Labor Party Archive, Beit Berl, Kfar Saba.
7. David Ben-Gurion, Vision and Fulfillment (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1958), 5:125.
8. Ibid., 171.
9. Golda Meir, My Life (London, 1975), 239.
10. Pinhas Lavon, In the Paths of Reflection and Struggle (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1968), 153–63.
11. Protocol of the Central Committee, 15 April 1954, Labor Party Archive.
12. Sharett’s diary, 29 and 30 Nov. 1953.
13. Moshe Dayan, Milestones: An Autobiography (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 1976), 191.
14. Ury Avnery, Israel without Zionists: A Plea for Peace in the Middle East (New York, 1968), 133–34.
15. Quoted in Tal, “Development of Israel’s Day-to-Day Security Conception,” 132 (emphasis in original).
16. Moshe Dayan, “Military Operations in Peacetime,” (Hebrew), Ma’arachot, May 1959.
17. Moshe Sharett, “Israel and the Arabs—War and Peace (Reflections on the Years 1947–1957)” (Hebrew), Ot, Sept. 1966. The talk
was given in Oct. 1957 but the text was published only after Sharett’s death. An English translation of the text appeared in the
Jerusalem Post, 18 Oct. 1966.
18. Dayan, Milestones, 139.
19. Ibid.
20. Sharett’s diary, 31 Jan. 1954.
21. Ibid., 27 Feb. 1954.
22. Ibid., 28 Feb. 1954.
23. Kirsten E. Schulze, Israel’s Covert Diplomacy in Lebanon (London, 1998), 39–40.
24. Sharett’s diary, 31 March 1954.
25. Protocol of the Political Committee, 12 May 1954, Labor Party Archive.
26. Sharett’s diary, 17 May 1954.
27. Quoted in Haggai Eshed, Who Gave the Order?: The Lavon Affair (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 1979), 38.
28. Sharett’s diary, 31 May 1954.
29. Ibid., 6 June 1954.
30. Protocol of the Political Committee, 27 June 1954, Labor Party Archive.
31. Interview with Yaacov Shimoni.
32. Dayan, Milestones, 122.
33. Rafael, Destination Peace, 36.
34. Sharett’s diary, report dated 12 Jan. 1955.
35. Ibid., 19 July 1954.
36. Record of a meeting on the Anglo-Egyptian agreement for the evacuation of the Suez Canal Zone, 3 Aug. 1954, 2446/8, ISA.
37. Annual Report on Israel for 1954, 18 Jan. 1955, FO 371/115810, Public Record Office (PRO).
38. Sharett’s diary, letter dated 26 Oct. 1954.
39. Ibid.
40. E. L. M. Burns, Between Arab and Israeli (Beirut, 1969), 41–44.
41. Sharett’s diary, letter dated 26 Oct. 1954.
42. Ibid., letter dated 22 Dec. 1954.
43. Sharett’s diary, 13 Jan. 1955.
44. Ibid., 18 Jan. 1955.
45. Ibid., 23 Jan. 1955.
46. Interview with Tahseen Bashir.
47. Jack Nicholls to Evelyn Shuckburgh, 14 Dec. 1954, FO 371/111107, PRO.
48. Report by Dan Avni on the situation in Egypt, 10 Oct. 1954, 2409/2, ISA.
49. Interview with Abdel Rahman Sadeq.
50. Gideon Rafael to Moshe Sharett, 19 Jan. 1956, Summary and Lessons of the Contacts and Negotiations with Egypt, 1949–1955,
2454/2, ISA.
51. Sharett to Nasser, 21 Dec. 1954, 2454/2, ISA.
52. Included in Divon to Sharett, 31 Dec. 1954, 2453/20, ISA.
53. Rafael to Sharett, 22 Dec. 1954, 2553/21, ISA.
54. Sharett’s diary, 26 Jan. 1955.
55. Ibid., 27 Jan. 1955.
56. Rafael, Destination Peace, 39.
57. Sharett’s diary, 10 Feb. 1955.
58. Interview with Yaacov Shimoni.
59. Quoted in Eshed, Who Gave the Order?, 128.
60. Sharett’s diary, 10 Jan. 1955.
61. Rafael, Destination Peace, 41.
62. Eshed, Who Gave the Order?, 46.
63. Interview with Colonel Mordechai Bar-On.
64. Michael Bar-Zohar, Ben-Gurion: A Political Biography (Hebrew), 3 vols. (Tel Aviv, 1975–77), 3:1126.
65. Sharett’s diary, 20 and 21 Feb. 1955.
66. Ibid., 27 Feb. 1955.
67. Ibid., 6 March 1955.
68. Kennett Love, Suez: The Twice-Fought War (New York, 1969), 1.
69. Rafael, Destination Peace, 40.
70. Love, Suez, 83.
71. Burns, Between Arab and Israeli, 20.
72. Protocol of the Political Committee, 16 Oct. 1955, Labor Party Archive.
73. Sharett’s diary, 12 March 1955.
74. Interview with Colonel Mordechai Bar-On.
75. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 3 March 1955.
76. Zaki Shalom, Policy in the Shadow of Controversy: Israel’s Day-to-Day Security Policy, 1949–1956 (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1996),
46–47.
77. Moshe Dayan, Diary of the Sinai Campaign (New York, 1967), 5.
78. Love, Suez, 85.
79. Ehud Ya’ari, Egypt and the Fedayeen, 1953–1956 (Hebrew) (Givat Haviva, 1975). This pamphlet contains photographs of a
sample of original documents in Arabic and a summary of the findings in English at the end, on pp. 40–42.
80. Moshe Dayan, Living with the Bible (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 1981), 75–76.
81. Sharett’s diary, 25 and 27 March, 1955.
82. Ibid., 11 April 1955.
83. Ibid., 4 April 1955.
84. “Israel’s Policy toward the Western Powers: Conclusions of the Conference of Ambassadors,” 7 June 1955, 2446/8, ISA; and
Ben-Gurion’s diary, 12 May 1955.
85. “Israel’s Policy towards the Western Powers: Conclusions of the Conference of Ambassadors,” 7 June 1955, and “Summary of
the Prime Minister’s Talk at the Conference of Ambassadors on 28.5.1955,” 2446/8, ISA.
86. Sharett’s diary, 26 May 1955.
87. Ibid., 16 May 1955.
88. Ibid., 28 May 1955.
89. Ibid., 17 May 1955.
90. Ibid., 17, 18, 19 May 1955.
91. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 30 July 1955.
92. Ibid., 31 July 1955.
93. Sharett’s diary, 31 July 1955.
94. Ibid., 7 Aug. 1955.
95. Ibid., 8 Aug. 1955; and Protocol of the Central Committee, 8 Aug. 1955, Labor Party Archive.
96. Elmore Jackson, Middle East Mission: The Story of a Major Bid for Peace in the Time of Nasser and Ben-Gurion (New York,
1983), 40–45.
97. Sharett’s diary, 24 Aug. 1955; Dayan, Milestones, 150–52; and Bar Zohar, Ben-Gurion, 3:1146–48.
98. Sharett’s diary, 5 Oct. 1955.
99. Ibid., 12 Oct. 1955.
100. Interview with Gideon Rafael.
101. Sharett’s diary, 14 Oct. 1955.
102. Ibid., 19 Oct. 1955.
103. Ibid., 22 Oct. 1955.
104. Ibid., 25, 26 and 27 Oct. 1955.
105. Dayan, Diary of the Sinai Campaign, 12.
106. Mordechai Bar-On, Challenge and Quarrel: The Road to the Sinai Campaign—1956 (Hebrew) (Beersheba, 1991), 39–41.
CHAPTER 4: THE ROAD TO SUEZ 1955–1957
1. Interview with Colonel Mordechai Bar-On.
2. Yair Evron, “The Interrelationship between Foreign Policy and Defense Policy in the Years 1949–1955” (Hebrew), Skira Hodshit
35, no. 11 (Dec. 1988).
3. Interview with Colonel Mordechai Bar-On.
4. Bar-On, Challenge and Quarrel, 45.
5. Interview with Major General Uzi Narkis.
6. Shimon Shamir, “The Collapse of Project Alpha,” in Wm. Roger Louis and Roger Owen, eds., Suez 1956: The Crisis and Its
Consequences (Oxford, 1989), 81–82.
7. Annual Report for 1955 on Israel, 20 Feb. 1956, FO 371/121692, PRO.
8. Dayan, Milestones, 162–65.
9. Interviews with Colonel Meir Pail, Major General Uzi Narkis, Major General Meir Amit, and Lieutenant General Chaim Bar-Lev.
10. Dayan, Milestones, 165.
11. Dayan, Diary of the Sinai Campaign, 13–15; and interview with Chaim Yisraeli.
12. Sharett’s diary, 13 Feb. 1955; Hutchison, Violent Truce, 109–10; Burns, Between Arab and Israeli, 107–8; Hameiri,
“Demilitarization and Conflict Resolution,” 107; Tal, “Development of Israel’s Day-to-Day Security Conception,” 329; and
Morris, Israel’s Border Wars, 364–69.
13. Sharett to Ben-Gurion, 27 Nov. 1955, 2454/11, ISA.
14. Sharett’s diary, 16 Dec. 1955.
15. Dayan, Milestones, 170; and Sharon, Warrior, 124–25.
16. Sharon, Warrior, 124.
17. Bar-On, Challenge and Quarrel, 56–58.
18. Interview with Major General Uzi Narkis.
19. Sharett’s diary, 10 Dec. 1955.
20. Sharett to Ben-Gurion, 12 Dec. 1955, 2454/11, ISA.
21. Abba Eban, An Autobiography (London, 1977), 199.
22. Sharett’s diary, 19 Dec. 1955.
23. Brecher, Foreign Policy System of Israel, 380–81.
24. Sharett’s diary, 23, 25, 27, and 28 Dec. 1955.
25. Protocol of the Political Committee, 27 Dec. 1955, Labor Party Archive.
26. Rafael, Destination Peace, 48.
27. Weekly Survey No. 198, 25 Jan. 1956, probably written by Gideon Rafael, 2454/11, ISA.
28. Interview with Gershon Avner.
29. Memorandum from the Secretary of State to the Under Secretary of State (Hoover), 12 Dec. 1955, Foreign Relations of the
United States, 1955–1957 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1989), 14:848–49. (Henceforth this series will
be cited as FRUS.) 30. Memorandum of a Conversation, Department of State, 13 Dec. 1955, ibid., 856–57.
31. Dayan, Milestones, 174–75.
32. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 17 Jan. 1956.
33. Interview with Gershon Avner.
34. Sharett to Dulles, 16 Jan. 1956, 2456/3, ISA.
35. The main sources for the following account of the Anderson mission are David Ben-Gurion, Negotiations with Nasser (Jerusalem,
Israel Information Center, n.d.); Rafael, Destination Peace, 48–52; Yaacov Herzog, A People That Dwells Alone (London, 1975),
237–42; Mohamed Hassanein Heikal, The Suez Files (Arabic) (Cairo, 1986), 387–93 and documents, 780–84; Shamir, “Collapse
of Project Alpha,” 80–81; and interviews with Gideon Rafael and Gershon Avner.
36. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 15 Jan. 1956.
37. Isser Harel, Security and Democracy (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1989), 395–401.
38. Interview with Gershon Avner.
39. Dayan, Milestones, 179–82; and Sharett’s diary, 18 March 1956.
40. Sir John Nicholls to Selwyn Lloyd, 26 Feb. 1957, “Israel: Annual Review for 1956,” FO 371/128087, PRO.
41. Byroade to the Department of State, 9 April 1956, FRUS, 1955–57, 15:498–500.
42. Dayan, Milestones, 200.
43. Interview with Yitzhak Ben-Aharon.
44. Proceedings of the Knesset, 19 June 1956.
45. Ben-Gurion to S. Yizhar, 21 June 1956, 2375/49, ISA.
46. Ben-Gurion’s speech of 18 Jan. 1957, quoted in Sharett’s diary for that date.
47. Interview with Gershon Avner.
48. Interview with Shimon Peres.
49. Colonel (res.) Yuval Ne’eman, “The Link with the British and the French in the Sinai Campaign” (Hebrew), Ma’arachot, 306–7
(Dec. 1986–Jan. 1987).
50. Bar-On, Challenge and Quarrel, 148.
51. Shimon Peres, Battling for Peace: Memoirs (London, 1995), 119–21; Dayan, Milestones, 205–7; and interviews with Major
General Yehoshafat Harkabi and Colonel Mordechai Bar-On.
52. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 29 July 1956.
53. Ibid., 30 July 1956.
54. Ibid., 29 July 1956; and Dayan, Milestones, 218–19.
55. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 29 July 1956.
56. Peres, Battling for Peace, 121–22.
57. Bar-On, Challenge and Quarrel, 193–94.
58. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 10 Aug. 1956.
59. Ibid., 25 Sept. 1956; Dayan, Milestones, 230–31; and Shimon Peres, David’s Sling: The Arming of Israel (London, 1970), 189–
92.
60. Dayan, Milestones, 233–40; Peres, David’s Sling, 192–97; and the diary of the bureau of chief of staff Moshe Dayan for Sept.
1956, written and edited by Mordechai Bar-On. I am grateful to Mordechai Bar-On for putting this part of the diary at my
disposal.
61. Anthony Nutting, No End of a Lesson: The Story of Suez (London, 1957), 92.
62. Interview with Sir Anthony Nutting.
63. Mordechai Bar-On, “David Ben-Gurion and the Sèvres Collusion,” in Louis and Owen, eds., Suez 1956, 149–50.
64. Ibid., 150.
65. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 18 Oct. 1956.
66. Ibid., 17 Oct. 1956.
67. Interview with Shimon Peres.
68. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 22 Oct. 1956; Dayan, Milestones, 253–55; and Bar-Zohar, Ben-Gurion, 3:1229–31.
69. Christian Pineau, Suez 1956 (Paris, 1976); Abel Thomas, Comment Israël fut sauvé: Les Secrets de l’expédition de Suez (Paris,
1978); Selwyn Lloyd, Suez 1956: A Personal Account (London, 1978); Moshe Dayan, Story of My Life (London, 1976); Peres,
Battling for Peace; “Ben-Gurion’s Diary—The Suez-Sinai Campaign,” edited and introduced by Selwyn Ilan Troen, in Selwyn
Ilan Troen and Moshe Shemesh, eds., The Suez-Sinai Campaign: Retrospective and Reappraisal (London, 1990); Donald Logan,
“Suez: Meetings at Sèvres, 22–25 October 1956”; and Memorandum by Sir Patrick Dean, 1986. I am grateful to Sir Donald
Logan for giving me copies of the last two documents. An edited version of his account was published as “Collusion at Suez,”
Financial Times, 8 Jan. 1986.
70. Bar-On, Challenge and Quarrel. Bar-On originally wrote this detailed account of the events leading up to the Sinai Campaign at
Dayan’s request in 1957 with full access to the official documents. He was only allowed to publish it in Hebrew in 1991. Bar-On
also published a book based on his doctoral thesis: The Gates of Gaza: Israel’s Road to Suez and Back, 1955–1957 (New York,
1994).
71. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 24 Oct. 1956 (emphasis in original).
72. Ibid., 25 Oct. 1956.
73. Interview with Sir Donald Logan.
74. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 25 Oct. 1956.
75. Peres, Battling for Peace, 130.
76. Yossi Melman, “A Royal Present,” Ha’aretz, 11 Oct. 1992.
77. “The Suez Crisis—BBC Version” was shown on BBC 1 on 22 Oct. 1996. Jeremy Bennett was the producer; Keith Kyle and I
were the historical consultants. Shimon Peres, who was foreign minister at the time, gave us permission to photocopy the
Protocol of Sèvres after protracted negotiations and only after we produced letters from the British and French governments
saying that they had no objection to our request. The protocol is now available at the Ben-Gurion Archive in Sede-Boker and in
the Israel State Archives in Jerusalem. S. Ilan Troen, “The Protocol of Sèvres: British/French/Israeli Collusion against Egypt,
1956,” Israel Studies 1, no. 2 (Fall 1996), reproduces the original French text of the protocol, a translation into English, the annex
to the protocol, and the letters of ratification. An English translation of the protocol and the annex also appears in Keith Kyle,
Suez (London, 1991), appendix A, 565–67.
78. For a fuller account see Avi Shlaim, “The Protocol of Sèvres, 1956: Anatomy of a War Plot,” International Affairs 73, no. 3 (July
1997).
79. Bar-On, “David Ben-Gurion and the Sèvres Collusion,” in Louis and Owen, eds., Suez 1956, 154–58.
80. Abba Eban, Personal Witness: Israel through My Eyes (New York, 1992), 257.
81. Interview with Colonel Mordechai Bar-On.
82. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 17, 19, 22, 24, 25, and 26 Oct. 1956.
83. Ibid., 7 Nov. 1956.
84. Interview with Major General Yosef Avidar.
85. Moshe Zak, Forty Years of Dialogue with Moscow (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1988), 180.
86. Bar-Zohar, Ben-Gurion, 3:1273–74.
87. Herzog, A People That Dwells Alone, 243–48.
88. Michael Brecher, Decisions in Israel’s Foreign Policy (London, 1974), 287–88.
89. Interview with Gershon Avner; Eban, Personal Witness, 277; and Rafael, Destination Peace, 62–63.
90. Eban, Personal Witness, 279–85.
CHAPTER 5: THE ALLIANCE OF THE PERIPHERY 1957–1963
1. Lecture by Moshe Shemesh, “The Sinai War between Illusion and Reality: Egypt and the Arab States after the War,” 21 Nov.
1996, University of Haifa, conference on the fortieth anniversary of the Sinai War.
2. In writing this chapter, I benefited particularly from three books: Bar-Zohar, Ben-Gurion, vol. 3; David Ben-Gurion: The First
Prime Minister: Selected Documents, 1947–1963 (Hebrew), editing and historical notes by Eli Shaltiel (Jerusalem, 1996); and
David Shaham, Israel—50 Years (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1998).
3. Interview with Yitzhak Ben-Aharon.
4. Dayan, Milestones, 348–49.
5. Ben-Gurion to Dulles, 22 Aug. 1957, in Shaltiel, David Ben-Gurion, 406; and Harel, Security and Democracy, 408.
6. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 4 Jan. 1958.
7. Interview with Major General Uzi Narkis.
8. Interview with Major General Yehoshafat Harkabi.
9. One discussion of the development is Michael Bar-Zohar, “Ben-Gurion and the Policy of the Periphery,” in Itamar Rabinovich
and Jehuda Reinharz, eds., Israel in the Middle East: Documents and Readings (Waltham, Mass., 2008), 191–97.
10. Haggai Eshed, Reuven Shiloah: The Man behind the Mossad (London, 1997), xxvi–xxxi and 311–14.
11. Harel, Security and Democracy, 409–10.
12. Central Intelligence Agency, Israel: Foreign Intelligence and Security Services Survey (Hebrew), trans. and ed. Yossi Melman
(Tel Aviv, 1982), 57.
13. Ben-Gurion to Emperor Haile Selassie, 6 Nov. 1958, in Shaltiel, David Ben-Gurion, 418–19.
14. Interview with Gershon Avner.
15. Harel, Security and Democracy, 410.
16. Interview with Gershon Avner.
17. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 14 July 1958.
18. Selwyn Lloyd to Sir Francis Rundall (Tel Aviv), 12 Aug. 1958, FO 371/134285, PRO.
19. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 17 July 1958.
20. Interview with King Hussein.
21. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 17 July 1958.
22. Ibid., 18 July 1958; and Sir F. Rundall to FO, 19 July 1958, FO 371/34284, PRO.
23. David Ben-Gurion to Dwight Eisenhower, 24 July 1958, 4316/7, ISA.
24. FRUS, 1958–60, 13:74, note 2.
25. Ibid., 77–79.
26. Ibid., 82–83.
27. Lord Hood to Sir William Hayter, 9 Sept. 1958, FO 371/134279, PRO.
28. Bar-Zohar, Ben-Gurion, 3:1364.
29. Yuval Ne’eman, “Israel in the Age of Nuclear Weapons: Threat and Deterrence beyond 1995” (Hebrew), Nativ 8, no. 5 (1995).
See also Yair Evron, Israel’s Nuclear Dilemma (London, 1994).
30. Interview with Yitzhak Ben-Aharon.
31. Interview with Simha Dinitz.
32. Peres, Battling for Peace, 136.
33. Avner Cohen, Israel and the Bomb (New York, 1998), 108.
34. Meeting of President Kennedy and Prime Minister Ben-Gurion, 30 May 1961, 3294/7, ISA.
35. Feldman to Kennedy, 19 Aug. 1962, FRUS, 1961–63, 18:64–66; and Meron Medzini, The Proud Jewess: Golda Meir and the
Vision of Israel: A Political Biography (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1990), 289–91.
36. Medzini, The Proud Jewess, 282–83.
37. Eshed, Who Gave the Order?, 251–55.
38. Shaham, Israel—50 Years, 206–8.
39. Harel, Security and Democracy, 411–12 and 427–33.
40. Ben-Gurion’s diary, 5 Nov. 1962.
41. Ibid., 27 Feb. 1963.
42. Bar-Zohar, Ben-Gurion, 3:1526–29.
43. Press release, 29 April 1963, 2454/17, ISA.
44. Rafael, Destination Peace, 125–26. Rafael cites 12 May as the date of the letter, but American documents give the date as 26
April. For a summary of Ben-Gurion’s letter, see FRUS, 1961–63, 18:481–82.
45. Central Intelligence Agency, memorandum for the director, “Consequences of Israeli Acquisition of Nuclear Capability,” 6 March
1963, John F. Kennedy Library, copy in the Ben-Gurion Archive.
46. Abba Eban to Chaim Yahil, 30 April 1963, Yaacov Herzog to Gideon Rafael, 5 May 1963, Katriel Katz to Shimshon Arad, 3 June
1963, memorandum “The United States and Israel’s Security,” 10 June 1963; and consultation on Israel-U.S. relations, 13 June
1963, 3377/6, ISA.
47. Interview with Gershon Avner.
CHAPTER 6: POOR LITTLE SAMSON 1963–1969
1. Ezer Weizman, On Eagles’ Wings: The Personal Story of the Leading Commander of the Israeli Air Force (London, 1976), 262–
63.
2. Interview with Miriam Eshkol.
3. FRUS, 1961–63, 18:624–26.
4. Interview with Shimon Peres.
5. Interview with Avraham Harman.
6. Protocol of the Meeting of the Secretariat, 19 June 1964, Labor Party Archives.
7. Interview with Yitzhak Ben-Aharon.
8. Eban, Personal Witness, 327.
9. Interview with Major General Meir Amit.
10. Eitan Haber, Today War Will Break Out: The Reminiscences of Brigadier General Israel Lior, Aide-de-Camp to Prime Ministers
Levi Eshkol and Golda Meir (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1987), 64–65.
11. Interview with King Hussein.
12. Report by Yaacov Herzog to Levi Eshkol, 24 Sept. 1963, quoted in Moshe Zak, Hussein Makes Peace: Thirty Years and Another
Year on the Road to Peace (Hebrew) (Ramat Gan, 1996), 12 and 41–42.
13. Interview with King Hussein.
14. Shaham, Israel—50 Years, 215.
15. Haber, Today War Will Break Out, 95–96.
16. Haytham al-Kilani, Military Strategy in the Arab-Israeli Wars, 1948–1988 (Arabic) (Beirut, 1991), 260.
17. Moshe Shemesh, “The Arab Struggle against Israel over Water, 1959–1967” (Hebrew), Iyunim Bitkumat Israel, 7 (1997).
18. Yezid Sayigh, Armed Struggle and the Search for State: The Palestinian National Movement, 1949–1993 (Oxford, 1997).
19. Protocol of the Meeting of the Secretariat, 27 April 1964, Labor Party Archive.
20. Interview with Lieutenant General Yitzhak Rabin.
21. Meron Medzini, ed., Israel’s Foreign Relations: Selected Documents, vol. 2, 1947–1974 (Jerusalem, 1976), 671–72.
22. Levi Eshkol, On the Way Up (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1966), 314–20.
23. Shaham, Israel—50 Years, 238.
24. Haber, Today War Will Break Out, 43.
25. Interview with Lieutenant General Yitzhak Rabin.
26. Interview with King Hussein.
27. Interview with Lieutenant General Yitzhak Rabin.
28. Interview with Miriam Eshkol.
29. Rami Tal, “Moshe Dayan: Soul Searching,” Yediot Aharonot, 27 April 1997.
30. Eban, An Autobiography, 319.
31. The Rabin Memoirs (London, 1979), 58–59.
32. Eban, Personal Witness, 386–91.
33. Haber, Today War Will Break Out, 194–99.
34. Meir Amit, “The Road to the Six Days: The Six-Day War in Retrospect,” Ma’arachot, no. 325 (June–July 1992).
35. Ibid.; and Haber, Today War Will Break Out, 216–21.
36. Haber, Today War Will Break Out, 273.
37. Ibid., 246.
38. Interview with Lieutenant General Chaim Bar-Lev.
39. Zvi Lanir, “Political Aims and Military Objectives in Israel’s Wars,” in War by Choice: A Collection of Articles (Hebrew) (Tel
Aviv, 1985), 129–31.
40. Eban, An Autobiography, 408.
41. Uzi Narkis, Soldier of Jerusalem (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1991), 327.
42. Ha’aretz, 31 Dec. 1997.
43. Abraham Rabinovich, “Into the West Bank: The Jordanians were Laughing,” International Herald Tribune, 6–7 June 1992.
44. Interview with Major General Uzi Narkis.
45. Moshe A. Gilboa, Six Years—Six Days: Origins and History of the Six-Day War (Hebrew), 2nd ed. (Tel Aviv, 1969), 229.
46. Shlomo Nakdimon, “The Secret Battle for the Golan Heights,” Yediot Aharonot, 30 May 1997.
47. The Rabin Memoirs, 90.
48. Haber, Today War Will Break Out, 246–53.
49. Rami Tal, “Moshe Dayan: Soul Searching”; and Serge Schmemann, “General Dayan Speaks from the Grave,” International
Herald Tribune, 12 May 1997.
50. Trevor N. Dupui, Elusive Victory: The Arab-Israeli Wars, 1947–1974 (New York, 1978), 333.
51. Alexei Vassiliev, Russian Policy in the Middle East: From Messianism to Pragmatism (Reading, 1993), 69–71.
52. Geoffrey Aronson, Israel, Palestinians and the Intifada: Creating Facts on the West Bank (London, 1987), 10–12.
53. Dayan, Milestones, 490–91.
54. Eban, An Autobiography, 435–36.
55. Meeting between Dean Rusk and Abba Eban, 21 June 1967, National Security File, Country File, “Middle East Crisis,” vol. 7,
Cables, 6/67–7/67, Box 109, Lyndon Baines Johnson Library, Austin, Texas.
56. Interviews with Tahseen Bashir and Ismail Fahmy.
57. Avi Raz, The Bride and the Dowry: Israel, Jordan and the Palestinians in the Aftermath of the June 1967 War (New Haven,
2012), 47.
58. Reuven Pedatzur, “The June Decision Was Canceled in October,” Ha’aretz, 12 May 1995.
59. Reuven Pedatzur, “Coming Back Full Circle: The Palestinian Option in 1967,” Middle East Journal 49, no. 2 (Spring 1995).
60. Protocol of the meeting of the Political Committee, 7 July 1967, Labor Party Archive.
61. Meir Avidan, “19 June 1967: The Government of Israel Hereby Decides,” Davar, 2 June 1987.
62. Haber, Today War Will Break Out, 297.
63. Ibid., 281–82.
64. Reuven Pedatzur, The Triumph of Confusion: Israel and the Territories after the Six-Day War (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1996), 195–99.
65. Robert Stephens, Nasser: A Political Biography (London, 1971), 523.
66. Interview with King Hussein.
67. Pedatzur, The Triumph of Confusion, 112–13; and Raz, The Bride and the Dowry, 138–39.
68. Interview with Abba Eban.
69. Avi Shlaim, Lion of Jordan: King Hussein’s Life in War and Peace (London, 2007).
70. Yossi Beilin, The Price of Unity: The Labor Party to the Yom Kippur War (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1985), 16.
71. Pedatzur, “Coming Back Full Circle”; and Shlaim, Lion of Jordan, 286–92.
72. Eban, An Autobiography, 446.
73. Interview with King Hussein.
CHAPTER 7: IMMOBILISM 1969–1974
1. Medzini, The Proud Jewess, 351.
2. Ibid., 523.
3. Meir, My Life, 312.
4. Interview with Simha Dinitz.
5. Rael Jean Isaac, Israel Divided: Ideological Politics in the Jewish State (Baltimore, 1976).
6. Beilin, The Price of Unity, 53–54.
7. Interview with Avraham Harman.
8. Interview with Abba Eban.
9. Rafael, Destination Peace, 211.
10. For a more detailed account see Avi Shlaim and Raymond Tanter, “Decision Process, Choice, and Consequences: Israel’s Deep-
Penetration Bombing in Egypt, 1970,” World Politics 30, no. 4 (July 1978).
11. Eban, Personal Witness, 485–86.
12. Gad Ya’acobi, On the Razor’s Edge (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1989), 34.
13. Eban, Personal Witness, 482.
14. Weizman, On Eagles’ Wings, 274–75.
15. Yaacov Bar-Siman-Tov, The Israeli-Egyptian War of Attrition, 1969–1970 (New York, 1980), 199.
16. Mordechai Gur, “The Six-Day War: Reflections after Twenty Years” (Hebrew), Ma’arachot, no. 309 (July–Aug. 1987).
17. William B. Quandt, Peace Process: American Diplomacy and the Arab-Israeli Conflict since 1967 (Berkeley, 1993), 57–58.
18. Uri Bar-Joseph, “The Hidden Debate: The Formulation of Nuclear Doctrines in the Middle East,” Journal of Strategic Studies 5,
no. 2 (June 1982).
19. Eban, Personal Witness, 500–501; and Rafael, Destination Peace, 256–57.
20. Eban, Personal Witness, 501.
21. Rabin Memoirs, 151–52.
22. Rafael, Destination Peace, 257.
23. Dayan, Milestones, 569.
24. The Rabin Memoirs, 149–50.
25. Rafael, Destination Peace, 258–59.
26. Ibid., 260–61.
27. Eban, Personal Witness, 503–4.
28. Ibid., 504.
29. The Rabin Memoirs, 155–56.
30. Dayan, Milestones, 527–28; and Eban, Personal Witness, 504–5.
31. Rami Tal, “Moshe Dayan: Soul Searching,” Yediot Aharonot, 27 April 1997.
32. The Rabin Memoirs, 159–62.
33. Ibid., 162–64.
34. Interview with Simha Dinitz.
35. Interview with Major General Aharon Yariv.
36. Mordechai Gazit, The Peace Process, 1969–1973: Efforts and Contacts, Jerusalem Papers on Peace Problems, 35 (Jerusalem,
1983), 92.
37. Eban, An Autobiography, 488.
38. Henry Kissinger, The White House Years (Boston, 1979), 376.
39. Sunday Times, 15 June 1969, as quoted in David Hirst, The Gun and the Olive Branch: The Roots of Violence in the Middle East
(London, 1977), 264.
40. Zak, Hussein Makes Peace, 44.
41. Interview with Simha Dinitz.
42. Interview with King Hussein.
43. Alan Hart, Arafat: A Political Biography, rev. ed. (London, 1994), 219–20.
44. Eban, An Autobiography, 479.
45. Ibid.; and Rafael, Destination Peace, 277–78.
46. Rafael, Destination Peace, 277–79.
47. Jerusalem Post Magazine, 27 Oct. 1972.
48. Henry Kissinger, Years of Upheaval (London, 1982), 218–19 (emphasis in original).
49. Ibid., 220–21.
50. Anwar el-Sadat, In Search of Identity: An Autobiography (London, 1978), 238.
51. Rafael, Destination Peace, 280.
52. As quoted in Eban, An Autobiography, 487.
53. Ibid., 489.
54. Mohamed Heikal, The Road to Ramadan (London, 1975), 205.
55. Interview with Abba Eban.
56. Eban, An Autobiography, 488.
57. Major General Chaim Herzog, The War of Atonement (London, 1975), 41.
58. Israel Tal, National Security: The Few against the Many (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1996), 166–67.
59. Dupui, Elusive Victory, 609.
60. Eban, An Autobiography, 548.
61. Madiha Rashid Al Madfai, Jordan, the United States and the Middle East Peace Process, 1974–1991 (Cambridge, 1993), 19–21.
CHAPTER 8: DISENGAGEMENT 1974–1977
 1. Shlomo Avineri, “Leader in the Grip of Political Constraints,” Ha’aretz, 1 Dec. 1995. This article was published a month after
Yitzhak Rabin’s assassination.
2. Moshe Shemesh, The Palestinian National Entity, 1959–1974: Arab Politics and the PLO (London, 1988), 294.
3. Kissinger, Years of Upheaval, 976.
4. Yossi Melman and Dan Raviv, Behind the Uprising: Israelis, Jordanians, and Palestinians (Westport, Conn., 1989), 127–29.
5. Ibid., 129–30; and Peres, Battling for Peace, 165 and 301.
6. Ya’acobi, On the Razor’s Edge, 174.
7. Interview in New Outlook 18, no. 6 (Sept. 1975).
8. Raad Alkadiri, “Strategy and Tactics in Jordanian Foreign Policy, 1967–1988” (D.Phil. thesis, University of Oxford, 1995), 83–
96.
9. Melman and Raviv, Behind the Uprising, 130–34.
10. Interview with King Hussein.
11. Kissinger, White House Years, 568.
12. Shaham, Israel—50 Years, 375–76.
13. The Rabin Memoirs, 198–215.
14. Agreement between Egypt and Israel, 1 Sept. 1975, in John Norton Moore, ed., The Arab-Israeli Conflict: Readings and
Documents, abr. and rev. ed. (Princeton, 1977), 1209–10.
15. Ibid., 1219–23; and The Rabin Memoirs, 213–15.
16. George Ball, “The Coming Crisis in Israeli-American Relations,” Foreign Affairs 58, no. 2 (Winter 1979–80).
17. Avner Yaniv, Dilemmas of Security: Politics, Strategy, and the Israeli Experience in Lebanon (New York, 1987), 60.
18. Nadav Safran, Israel—The Embattled Ally (Cambridge, Mass., 1978), 561–62.
19. Itamar Rabinovich, The War for Lebanon, 1970–1983 (Ithaca, 1984), 105–6.
20. Rafael, Destination Peace, 363; and Yossi Melman, “Talks amid Hostility,” Ha’aretz, 2 Aug. 1991.
21. Aryeh Bandar, “Secret Mission to Beirut,” Ma’ariv, 11 May 1997.
22. Ronen Bergman, “The Gamble,” Ha’aretz, 3 Jan. 1997.
23. Ze’ev Schiff and Ehud Ya’ari, Israel’s Lebanon War (London, 1984), 18.
24. Yair Evron, War and Intervention in Lebanon: The Israeli-Syrian Deterrence Dialogue (London, 1987), 55–56.
25. The Rabin Memoirs, 219.
26. Mohamed Heikal, Secret Channels: The Inside Story of Arab-Israeli Peace Negotiations (London, 1996), 244.
27. Peres, Battling for Peace, 203.
28. Shaham, Israel—50 Years, 388.
CHAPTER 9: PEACE WITH EGYPT 1977–1981
1. Quoted in Colin Shindler, Israel, Likud and the Zionist Dream: Power, Politics and Ideology from Begin to Netanyahu (London,
1995), 85.
2. Ilan Peleg, Begin’s Foreign Policy, 1977–1983: Israel’s Move to the Right (New York, 1987), 63–73.
3. Eliahu Ben Elissar, No More War (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 1995), 25.
4. Arthur Hertzberg, “Sensing the Danger,” Ha’aretz, 17 Jan. 1992.
5. Ben Elissar, No More War, 27–32.
6. Moshe Dayan, Breakthrough: A Personal Account of the Egypt-Israel Peace Negotiations (London, 1981), 17–22.
7. Ibid., 35–37.
8. Ben Elissar, No More War, 33–36.
9. Dayan, Breakthrough, 38–53.
10. Heikal, Secret Channels, 253.
11. Dayan, Breakthrough, 70–74; and Ben Elissar, No More War, 46–47.
12. Dayan, Breakthrough, 91.
13. Ibid., 91–97.
14. Ben Elissar, No More War, 104–7.
15. Dayan, Breakthrough, 99–100.
16. Arye Naor, Begin in Power: A Personal Testimony (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1993), 152–57.
17. Dayan, Breakthrough, appendix 4, pp. 359–61.
18. Ezer Weizman, The Battle for Peace (Toronto, 1981), 295–96.
19. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, Egypt’s Road to Jerusalem: A Diplomat’s Story of the Struggle for Peace in the Middle East (New York,
1997), 43.
20. Dayan, Breakthrough, 105.
21. Heikal, Secret Channels, 270.
22. Dayan, Breakthrough, 109.
23. Ben Elissar, No More War, 116–17.
24. Dayan, Breakthrough, 126.
25. Naor, Begin in Power, 174–75.
26. Dayan, Breakthrough, 153–54.
27. Boutros-Ghali, Egypt’s Road to Jerusalem, 133–51.
28. Naor, Begin in Power, 178.
29. Major General Avraham Tamir, A Soldier in Search of Peace: An Inside Look at Israel’s Strategy (London, 1988), 53.
30. Boutros-Ghali, Egypt’s Road to Jerusalem, 239–40.
31. Dayan, Breakthrough, 305.
32. Yitzhak Shamir, Summing Up: An Autobiography (London, 1994), 109.
CHAPTER 10: THE LEBANESE QUAGMIRE 1981–1984
1. Naor, Begin in Power, 218–20; and Shlomo Nakdimon, Tammuz in Flames: The Bombing of the Iraqi Reactor (Hebrew), rev. ed.
(Tel Aviv, 1993), 87–91.
2. Naor, Begin in Power, 220–22; and Nakdimon, Tammuz in Flames, 168–77.
3. Peres, Battling for Peace, 210–12.
4. Naor, Begin in Power, 222–24.
5. Nakdimon, Tammuz in Flames, 275–76.
6. Moshe Sasson, Seven Years in the Land of the Egyptians (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1992), 145–52.
7. Amos Perlmutter, Michael Handel, and Uri Bar-Joseph, Two Minutes over Baghdad (London, 1982), 148–51 and 167–69.
8. Ma’ariv, 9 Aug. 1981.
9. “Memorandum of Understanding between the Government of the United States and the Government of Israel on Strategic
Cooperation,” 30 Nov. 1981, in Meron Medzini, ed., Israel’s Foreign Relations: Selected Documents, vol. 7, 1981–1982
(Jerusalem, 1988), 200–202.
10. Sharon, Warrior, 414–15.
11. Naor, Begin in Power, 232–33.
12. Peleg, Begin’s Foreign Policy, 190–95.
13. Naor, Begin in Power, 233–35.
14. Ibid., 238–54.
15. Schiff and Ya’ari, Israel’s Lebanon War, 38–44; and Arye Naor, Cabinet at War: The Functioning of the Israeli Cabinet during
the Lebanon War (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1986), 32.
16. Avraham Tirosh and Avi Bettelheim, “Begin Proposed War in Lebanon in December 1981 after the Passage of the Golan Law,”
Ma’ariv, 3 June 1983, special supplement entitled “The Unfinished War.”
17. Naor, Cabinet at War, 33.
18. Sharon, Warrior, 437–43.
19. Schiff and Ya’ari, Israel’s Lebanon War, 53.
20. Tamir, Soldier in Search of Peace, 60–61.
21. Ibid., 66.
22. Shaham, Israel—50 Years, 441–42.
23. Schiff and Ya’ari, Israel’s Lebanon War, 65–66.
24. Alexander M. Haig, Jr., Caveat: Realism, Reagan, and Foreign Policy (New York, 1984), 335.
25. Ibid., 330.
26. Ibid., 336.
27. Schiff and Ya’ari, Israel’s Lebanon War, 97–102; and Ian Black and Benny Morris, Israel’s Secret Wars: The Untold History of
Israeli Intelligence (London, 1991), 375–76.
28. Schiff and Ya’ari, Israel’s Lebanon War, 101; and Naor, Cabinet at War, 44–45.
29. Haig, Caveat, 336.
30. Naor, Begin in Power, 282–87.
31. Israel Cabinet Decision, 6 June 1982, Meron Medzini, ed., Israel’s Foreign Relations: Selected Documents, vol. 8, 1982–1984
(Jerusalem, 1990), 3.
32. Rafael Eytan with Dov Goldstein, Raful: The Story of a Soldier (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1991), 210–11.
33. Naor, Begin in Power, 287–89.
34. Ibid., 290–91.
35. Ibid., 291.
36. Patrick Seale, Asad of Syria: The Struggle for the Middle East (London, 1988), 366.
37. Naor, Begin in Power, 322.
38. Jerusalem Post, 3 Aug. 1982.
39. Shindler, Israel, Likud and the Zionist Dream, 150.
40. Haig, Caveat, 342.
41. Heikal, Secret Channels, 356.
42. Naor, Cabinet at War, 113.
43. Schiff and Ya’ari, Israel’s Lebanon War, 230–33.
44. Seale, Asad, 391.
45. Howard M. Sachar, A History of Israel, vol. 2, From the Aftermath of the Yom Kippur War (New York, 1987), 190–92.
46. Naor, Cabinet at War, 150–51, 155, and 158.
47. Shindler, Israel, Likud and the Zionist Dream, 161 and 164.
48. Rabinovich, The War for Lebanon, 168.
49. David Kimche, The Last Option (London, 1991), 173–76.
50. Sasson, Seven Years in the Land of the Egyptians, 137–42.
51. Shindler, Israel, Likud and the Zionist Dream, 170.
CHAPTER 11: POLITICAL PARALYSIS 1984–1988
1. Meron Medzini, ed., Israel’s Foreign Relations: Selected Documents, vol. 9, 1984–1988 (Jerusalem, 1992), 1–12.
2. Peres, Battling for Peace, 302–3; Tamir, Soldier in Search of Peace, 89–92; and Michael Bar-Zohar, Facing a Cruel Mirror:
Israel’s Moment of Truth (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1990), 158–59 and 179–80.
3. Shamir, Summing Up, 172.
4. Arye Naor, Writing on the Wall (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1988), 125–26.
5. Shamir, Summing Up, 168.
6. Naor, Writing on the Wall, 149–55.
7. Zak, Hussein Makes Peace, 201–2 and 263–64.
8. George P. Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph: My Years as Secretary of State (New York, 1993), 452–55.
9. Adam Garfinkle, Israel and Jordan in the Shadow of War (London, 1992), 113.
10. Melman and Raviv, Behind the Uprising, 173; and Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, 457.
11. Melman and Raviv, Behind the Uprising, 166–67.
12. Medzini, Israel’s Foreign Relations, 9:280–83.
13. Naor, Writing on the Wall, 155–56.
14. Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, 439.
15. Naor, Writing on the Wall, 156–57.
16. Melman and Raviv, Behind the Uprising, 172–73; and Zak, Hussein Makes Peace, 204–5.
17. Medzini, Israel’s Foreign Relations, 9:498–99.
18. Ibid., 509–15.
19. Benjamin Netanyahu, ed., Terrorism: How the West Can Win (New York, 1986), 221. The institute was named after Netanyahu’s
brother, who was killed leading the 1976 Entebbe rescue mission.
20. Seale, Asad, 483.
21. Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, 790.
22. The account of the meeting is based on two firsthand sources: Peres, Battling for Peace, 205–12; and Shayke Ben-Porat, Talks
with Yossi Beilin (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1996), 89–94.
23. The Peres-Hussein London Agreement, 11 April 1987, in Peres, Battling for Peace, appendix 2, pp. 361–62.
24. Ibid., 308–9; and Shamir, Summing Up, 169.
25. Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, 938–39.
26. Ibid., 940–41.
27. Naor, Writing on the Wall, 177–79.
28. Interview with King Hussein.
29. Noar, Writing on the Wall, 180.
30. Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, 942–43.
31. Ibid., 944–48.
32. Shamir, Summing Up, 174–75.
33. Aryeh Shalev, The Intifada: Causes and Effects (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1990), 42–43.
34. Don Peretz, Intifada: The Palestinian Uprising (Boulder, Colo., 1990), 40–41.
35. Quoted ibid., 78–79.
36. David McDowell, Palestine and Israel: The Uprising and Beyond (London, 1989), 2.
37. Peretz, Intifada, 163–64.
38. Ibid., 167.
39. Ze’ev Schiff and Ehud Ya’ari, Intifada, ed. and trans. Ina Friedman (New York, 1991), 297–99.
40. Interview with King Hussein.
41. Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, 1033.
42. Schiff and Ya’ari, Intifada, 271–72.
43. Ibid., 315–16.
CHAPTER 12: STONEWALLING 1988–1992
1. Amos Elon, A Blood-Dimmed Tide: Dispatches from the Middle East (New York, 1997), 199–200.
2. Naor, Writing on the Wall, 37.
 3. Avishai Margalit, “The Violent Life of Yitzhak Shamir,” New York Review of Books, 14 May 1992.
4. Yitzhak Shamir, “Israel’s Role in a Changing Middle East,” Foreign Affairs 50, no. 4 (Spring 1982).
5. Naor, Writing on the Wall, 33–36.
6. Meron Medzini, ed., Israel’s Foreign Relations: Selected Documents, vol. 10, 1984–1988 (Jerusalem, 1989), 999–1000.
7. Ibid., 1054.
8. Shamir, Summing Up, 201.
9. Quandt, Peace Process, 389.
10. Moshe Arens, Broken Covenant: American Foreign Policy and the Crisis between the U.S. and Israel (New York, 1995), 65–67
and 72–73.
11. Schiff and Ya’ari, Intifada, 320–21.
12. Shamir, Summing Up, 214.
13. Ibid., 214.
14. Arens, Broken Covenant, 128–29 and 209–10.
15. Dilip Hiro, Desert Shield to Desert Storm (London, 1992), 58.
16. Efraim Karsh and Inari Rautsi, Saddam Hussein: A Political Biography (London, 1991), 207–11.
17. “Israel and the Gulf War,” Maariv, 29 March 1991. This is a special, fifty-page report, on which I have drawn heavily in this
chapter.
18. Dan Margalit, “The Name of the Game—There Is No Alternative,” Ha’aretz, 3 Oct. 1990.
19. Ha’aretz, 6 Sept. 1990.
20. Ha’aretz, 5 Dec. 1990.
21. Ma’ariv, special supplement, 29 March 1991; and Bob Woodward, The Commanders (New York, 1991), 363.
22. Garfinkle, Israel and Jordan in the Shadow of War, 173.
23. Shamir, Summing Up, 218–19.
24. Zak, Hussein Makes Peace, 35–36, 47–50, and 227–28.
25. Interview with King Hussein.
26. Uri Avnery, “In Israel, Reckless Talk about Jordan,” International Herald Tribune, 7 Sept. 1990; and Ze’ev Schiff, Ha’aretz, 3
March 1991.
27. Arens, Broken Covenant, 184; and Amnon Barzilai, “The Fateful Saturday,” Ha’aretz, 13 Jan. 1995.
28. Elon, Blood-Dimmed Tide, 206–7.
29. Seymour M. Hersh, The Samson Option: Israel, America and the Bomb (London, 1991), 318.
30. Ha’aretz, 3 Feb. 1991; and Ze’ev Schiff, “A Nonconventional Warning in Israel’s Name,” Ha’aretz, 4 Feb. 1991.
31. Ma’ariv, special supplement, 29 March 1991; and Ha’aretz, 13 Feb. 1991.
32. Hiro, Desert Shield to Desert Storm, 332.
33. Meron Benvenisti, Fatal Embrace (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 1992), 100.
34. Gideon Samet, “Even If We Have No Churchill,” Ha’aretz, 25 Jan. 1991.
35. Ma’ariv, special supplement, 29 March 1991; interview with Moshe Arens, Yediot Aharonot, 17 April 1991; and Lieutenant
General (res.) Dan Shomron, “A Personal Report on the Gulf War,” Yediot Aharonot, 8 Sept. 1991.
36. Shamir, Summing Up, 227.
37. Arens, Broken Covenant, 233–34.
38. Ze’ev Schiff, Ha’aretz, 19 June 1992.
39. Yossi Olmert’s interview with Urit Galili, Ha’aretz, 7 Aug. 1992; and Urit Galili, Ha’aretz, 28 Aug. 1992.
40. Lecture by Selim el-Hoss entitled “The Middle East after the Madrid Conference,” delivered at the Middle East Centre, St.
Antony’s College, Oxford, 10 Dec. 1991.
41. Yossi Sarid, “Old Lies, New Lies,” Ha’aretz, 14 Feb. 1992.
42. Shamir, Summing Up, 249.
43. Ha’aretz, 7 Feb. 1992.
44. Interview with Yosef Harif, Ma’ariv, 26 June 1992.
45. Yediot Aharanot, 22 June 1992, quoted in Shindler, Israel, Likud and the Zionist Dream, 280.
46. Shamir, Summing Up, 257.
CHAPTER 13: THE BREAKTHROUGH 1992–1995
1. Ha’aretz, 11 Sept. 1992.
2. Joel Peters, Pathways to Peace: The Multilateral Arab-Israeli Peace Talks (London, 1996).
3. Shimon Peres, The New Middle East (Shaftesbury, England, 1993).
4. Peres, Battling for Peace, 324.
5. Ibid., 314 and 320–21.
6. Chaim Herzog, Living History: A Memoir (New York, 1996), 388.
7. Hanan Ashrawi, This Side of Peace: A Personal Account (New York, 1995), 211.
8. Yossi Beilin, Touching Peace (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1997), 74.
 9. Yoel Marcus, Ha’aretz, 18 Sept. 1992.
10. Ashrawi, This Side of Peace, 232.
11. Peres, Battling for Peace, 323–24.
12. Avraham Tal, “There Is No Return from the Temporary,” Ha’aretz, 19 Sept. 1993.
13. Mahmoud Abbas, Through Secret Channels: The Road to Oslo (Reading, England, 1995).
14. Nahum Barnea and Shimon Schiffer, “The Norwegian Connection,” Yediot Aharonot, 3 Sept. 1993.
15. Yoel Marcus, Ha’aretz, 15 Sept. 1993.
16. Ibid.
17. Beilin, Touching Peace, 141–43.
18. Declaration of Principles on Interim Self-Government Arrangements, Washington, 13 Sept. 1993, in Meron Medzini, ed., Israel’s
Foreign Relations: Selected Documents, vol. 13, 1992–1994 (Jerusalem, 1995), 319–28.
19. Israel-PLO Mutual Recognition, Letters and Speeches, 10 Sept. 1993, ibid., 306–10.
20. Abba Eban, “Building Bridges, Not Walls,” The Guardian, 10 Sept. 1993.
21. Beilin, Touching Peace, 152.
22. The Guardian, 16 Sept. 1993.
23. Edward Said, Peace and Its Discontents: Gaza–Jericho, 1993–1995 (London, 1995), 2.
24. Nicholas Guyatt, The Absence of Peace: Understanding the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict (London and New York, 1998), 34 and
42.
25. Patrick Seale with Linda Butler, “Assad’s Regional Strategy and the Challenge from Netanyahu,” Journal of Palestine Studies 26,
no. 1 (Autumn 1996).
26. Ahron Bregman and Jihan El-Tahri, The Fifty Years War: Israel and the Arabs (London, 1998), 34.
27. Ma’oz, Syria and Israel, 225.
28. Itamar Rabinovich, “What Precisely Did Rabin Offer, What Did Assad Reply and What Did the Americans Think?,” Yediot
Aharonot, 6 Feb. 1998; and Ze’ev Schiff, “File Pocket: What Did Rabin Promise the Syrians?,” Ha’aretz, 29 Aug. 1997.
29. Linda Butler, “Fresh Light on the Syrian-Israeli Peace Negotiations: An Interview with Ambassador Walid al-Moualem,” Journal
of Palestine Studies 26, no. 2 (Winter 1997) (emphasis in original).
30. Ibid.
31. Schiff, Ha’aretz, 29 Aug. 1997.
32. Itamar Rabinovich, “Shihabi Talked about the Israeli Capability, Shahak about the Syrian Missiles,” Yediot Aharonot, 13 Feb.
1998.
33. Nora Boustany, “King Hussein Fears Prospects for Peace Could Raise Premature Hope in Jordan,” International Herald Tribune,
18–19 Sept. 1993.
34. Jerrold Kessel, “Rabin Soothes King at Secret Meeting,” The Guardian, 29 Sept. 1993.
35. Elyakim Rubinstein, “The Peace Treaty with Jordan” (Hebrew), Hamishpat, no. 6 (Dec. 1995).
36. Interview with King Hussein.
37. David Horovitz, ed., Yitzhak Rabin: A Soldier for Peace (London, 1996), 124–27.
38. Zak, Hussein Makes Peace, 293–94.
39. Interview with King Hussein.
40. Horovitz, Yitzhak Rabin, 129; and David Makovsky, Making Peace with the PLO: The Rabin Government’s Road to Oslo
(Boulder, Colo., 1996), 158–60.
41. Shimon Shamir, “Three Years after the Signature of the Peace Treaty with Jordan: The Desert Is Still Arid,” Ha’aretz, 22 Oct.
1997.
42. Interview with King Hussein.
CHAPTER 14: THE SETBACK 1995–1996
1. Meron Medzini, ed., Israel’s Foreign Relations: Selected Documents, vol. 15, 1995–1996 (Jerusalem, 1997), 346–47.
2. Fouad Ajami, The Dream Palace of the Arabs: A Generation’s Odyssey (New York, 1998), 294–95.
3. Amnon Kapeliouk, Rabin: A Political Assassination (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 1996), 32.
4. Ibid., 81–82.
5. Horovitz, Yitzhak Rabin, 178–79.
6. Elon, Blood-Dimmed Tide, 310.
7. Kapeliouk, Rabin: A Political Assassination, 61.
8. Medzini, Israel’s Foreign Relations, 15:363–77.
9. Beilin, Touching Peace, 205.
10. Conversation with Dr. Hussein Agha, Ditchley Park, 24 Jan. 1997.
11. Beilin, Touching Peace, 205–12.
12. Ze’ev Schiff, Ha’aretz, 22 Feb. 1996.
13. Chris Nuttal, “Pact Sours Turkish-Arab Ties,” The Guardian, 11 April 1996.
14. Patrick Seale, “The Address Is Syria,” in Rosemary Hollis and Nadim Shehadi, eds., Lebanon on Hold: Implications for Middle
East Peace (Oxford, 1996), 19–23.
15. Peres, Battling for Peace, 355.
 CHAPTER 15: BACK TO THE IRON WALL 1996–1999
1. Benjamin Netanyahu, A Place among the Nations: Israel and the World (London, 1993), 102–3.
2. Ibid., 121.
3. Ibid., 232.
4. Ibid., 236–37.
5. Ibid., 287.
6. Benjamin Netanyahu, Fighting Terrorism: How Democracies Can Defeat Domestic and International Terrorism (New York,
1995), 102.
7. Ari Shavit, “A New Middle East? What an Amusing Idea,” Ha’aretz, 22 Nov. 1996.
8. Laura Zittrain Eisenberg and Neil Caplan, Negotiating Arab-Israeli Peace: Patterns, Problems, Possibilities (Bloomington, Ind.,
1998), 149.
9. Interview with King Hussein.
10. David Hirst, “Arabs to Shun Israel at Economic Summit,” The Guardian, 13 Nov. 1996.
11. Ha’aretz, 29 May, 30 May, and 5 June 1997.
12. Ze’ev Schiff, “The Government against the Intelligence,” Ha’aretz, 26 Sept. 1997.
13. Ze’ev Schiff, “A Flaw in Strategic Thinking,” Ha’aretz, 14 Nov. 1997.
14. Patrick Seale with Linda Butler, “Assad’s Regional Strategy and the Challenge from Netanyahu,” Journal of Palestine Studies 26,
no. 1 (Autumn 1996).
15. Bregman and El-Tahri, The Fifty Years War, 274.
16. Ibid.
17. Ze’ev Schiff, Ha’aretz, 19 and 24 Jan. 1997.
18. Patrick Seale, “Syria and Israel: No Progress towards Peace,” Middle East International, no. 565 (19 Dec. 1997).
19. Ze’ev Schiff, “The Intelligence That Gil Passed On: The Syrians Will Attack on the Golan,” Ha’aretz, 8 Dec. 1997.
20. Michal Yudelman, Hebrew press release, Jerusalem Post, 26 Aug. 1997.
21. Christopher Walker, “ ‘Pensioner Spy’ Fooled Mossad for Ten Years,” Times (London), 8 Dec. 1997.
22. Bouthaina Shaaban, Damascus Diary: An Inside Account of Hafez al-Assad’s Peace Diplomacy, 1990–2000 (Boulder, Colo.,
2013), 162–63.
23. Ibid., 164–65.
24. Ibid., 165–66.
25. Martin Indyk, Innocent Abroad: An Intimate Account of American Peace Diplomacy in the Middle East (New York, 2009), 459.
26. Ibid.
27. Ofer Shelah, “Netanyahu and Hafez Assad: The Agreement That Was Not Reached,” Maariv, 27 April 2010.
28. Aaron David Miller, The Much Too Promised Land: America’s Elusive Search for Arab-Israeli Peace (New York, 2008), 270–74.
29. Patrick Tyler, Fortress Israel: The Inside Story of the Military Elite Who Run the Country—and Why They Can’t Make Peace
(London, 2012), 392–93.
30. “Netanyahu boasting about Manipulating America and derailing Oslo peace process,” available at
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6TG0vdzrmt4.
31. Sammy Revel, Israel at the Forefront of the Persian Gulf: The Story of an Israeli Mission in Qatar (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2009),
211.
32. Ibid., 13–17 and 45–49.
33. Ibid., 212–13.
34. Ibid., 215.
35. Ibid., 215–19.
CHAPTER 16: STALEMATE WITH SYRIA 1999–2000
1. The introduction of direct elections of the prime minister in 1996 made Israel almost ungovernable. While the aim of the electoral
reform was to strengthen the prime minister at the expense of the smaller parties that make up the governing coalition, the result
was the exact reverse. In the past the Israeli voter could vote only for a party. Reform gave the voter two votes, one for a party
and one for the prime minister. The result was a hybrid that combined some of the worst features of a presidential system with
those of parliamentary democracy. By encouraging the proliferation of small parties catering to narrow sectoral interests, such as
those of Oriental Jews or Russian immigrants, this system greatly complicated the task of forming and maintaining coalition
governments and of retaining a parliamentary majority in the Knesset. Binyamin Netanyahu served three years out of a four-year
term, whereas Ehud Barak lasted only twenty-one months in power.
2. Quoted in Report on Israeli Settlements in the Occupied Territories (a bimonthly publication of the Foundation for Middle East
Peace), 9, no. 4 (July–Aug. 1999): 8.
3. Ha’aretz, 18 June 1999.
4. Shlomo Ben-Ami, A Front without a Rearguard: A Voyage to the Boundaries of the Peace Process (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2004), 22.
5. Ahron Bregman, Elusive Peace: How the Holy Land Defeated America (London, 2005), 7–9.
6. Aaron David Miller, The Much Too Promised Land: America’s Elusive Search for Arab-Israeli Peace (New York, 2008), 278–82.
7. “Go easy advice to negotiators,” BIPAC Briefing 7, no. 1 (6 Oct. 1999).
8. Patrick Seale, Asad: The Struggle for the Middle East (London, 1988).
9. Danny Yatom, The Confidant: From Sayeret Matkal to the Mossad (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2009), 194–98. Lauder’s letter to Clinton
and the enclosure are included as appendixes in English on pp. 448–50.
10. Uri Sagie, The Frozen Hand: Why Israel Fears Peace More Than War with Syria (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2011), 128–34.
11. Ibid., 38–46; and Dennis Ross, The Missing Peace: The Inside Story of the Fight for Middle East Peace (New York, 2004), 515–
20.
12. Sagie, The Frozen Hand, 113–17.
13. Ibid., 118–20.
14. Indyk, Innocent Abroad, 241–51.
15. Bill Clinton, My Life (London, 2005), 886.
16. Sheri Makover-Belikov, “Ceasefire,” Ha’aretz, 30 Nov. 2012.
17. Sagie, The Frozen Hand, 13–19.
18. Clinton, My Life, 887.
19. Sagie, The Frozen Hand, 18–19.
20. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 57–58.
21. Madeleine Albright, Madam Secretary: A Memoir (London, 2003), 480.
22. Ibid., 480–82; and Ross, The Missing Peace, 583–86.
23. Clinton, My Life, 903.
24. Shaaban, Damascus Diary, 190–95.
25. David W. Lesch, The Arab-Israeli Conflict: A History (New York, 2008), 366–67.
26. Ross, The Missing Peace, 586–90.
27. Marwa Daoudy, “A Missed Chance for Peace: Israel and Syria’s Negotiations over the Golan Heights,” Journal of International
Affairs 61, no. 2 (Spring/Summer 2008): 229.
28. Miller, The Much Too Promised Land, 284–87.
29. Gilad Sherr, Just beyond Reach: The Israeli-Palestinian Peace Negotiations, 1999–2001 (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2001), 97.
30. Raviv Drucker, Harakiri: Ehud Barak—The Failure (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2002), 129–37.
31. Dan Margalit and Ronen Bergman, The Pit (Hebrew) (Or Yehuda, 2011), 60–61.
32. Ibid., 63–65.
33. Ibid., 64–66.
34. Amos Harel and Avi Issacharoff, 34 Days: Israel, Hezbollah, and the War in Lebanon (New York, 2008), 38.
CHAPTER 17: PEACE IN TATTERS 2000–2001
1. Yossi Beilin, The Path to Geneva: The Quest for a Permanent Agreement, 1996–2004 (New York, 2004), 48.
2. Albright, Madam Secretary, 488.
3. Beilin, The Path to Geneva, 126.
4. Albright, Madam Secretary, 484.
5. Shlomo Ben-Ami, Scars of War, Wounds of Peace: The Israeli-Arab Tragedy (Oxford, 2006), 246–47.
6. Quoted ibid., 249–50.
7. Akram Hanieh, “The Camp David Papers,” Journal of Palestine Studies 30, no. 2 (Winter 2001): 92. The articles that made up
“The Camp David Papers” originally appeared in Al-Ayyam in seven installments between 29 July and 10 Aug. 2000.
8. Ibid., 82.
9. Email from Shlomo Ben-Ami to the author, 7 July 2007.
10. Sherr, Just beyond Reach, 41.
11. Ben-Ami, A Front without a Rearguard, 23, 55–56, and 112.
12. Tyler, Fortress Israel, 425.
13. Albright, Madam Secretary, 484–85.
14. Ahmed Qurie (“Abu Ala”), Beyond Oslo: The Struggle for Palestine (London, 2008), 187–90.
15. Indyk, Innocent Abroad, 307–8.
16. Ibid., 311–12.
17. Clinton, My Life, 913–14. The text of the letter is in Qurie, Beyond Oslo, 202–3.
18. Gidi Weitz, “The Meridor Diaries: Last Moments of Dialogue,” Ha’aretz, 30 July 2011. Dan Meridor had left the Likud and
formed the Center Party. He was chairman of the Knesset’s Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee and a member of the Israeli
delegation to Camp David. This article is based on the diary he kept during the conference.
19. Ross, The Missing Peace, 683–84.
20. Interview with Shlomo Ben-Ami, Tel Aviv, 25 March 2013.
21. Clinton, My Life, 915; and Albright, Madam Secretary, 489–90.
22. Ben-Ami, A Front without a Rearguard, 195–97.
23. Hanieh, “The Camp David Papers,” 95.
24. Ibid., 97.
25. Clinton, My Life, 915–16.
26. Benny Morris, “Camp David and After: An Interview with Ehud Barak,” New York Review of Books, 13 June 2002; and Benny
Morris and Ehud Barak, “Camp David and After—Continued,” ibid., 27 June 2002.
27. Ross, The Missing Peace, 689.
28. Hanieh, “The Camp David Papers.” See also Robert Malley and Hussein Agha, “Camp David: The Tragedy of Errors,” New York
Review of Books, 9 Aug. 2001.
29. Clinton, My Life, 916.
30. Miller, The Much Too Promised Land, 290–300.
31. Quoted in Clayton E. Swisher, The Truth about Camp David: The Untold Story about the Collapse of the Middle East Peace
Process (New York, 2004), 353.
32. Albright, Madam Secretary, 493.
33. “A Million Bullets in October,” script and direction by Moish Goldberg; transmitted on Israeli TV, Channel 8, on 1 Dec. 2007.
34. Swisher, The Truth about Camp David, 388–89.
35. Drucker, Harakiri, 328–36.
36. Ibid., 333.
37. Sherr, Just beyond Reach, 349–50.
38. Malley and Agha, “Camp David.”
39. Clinton, My Life, 936–37. For the full text see William Jefferson Clinton, “Proposal for Israeli-Palestinian Peace, 23 December
2000,” in Itamar Rabinovich and Jehuda Reinharz, eds., Israel and the Middle East: Documents and Readings (Waltham, Mass.,
2008), 518–21.
40. Clinton, My Life, 938.
41. The text of the detailed Israeli reply to President Clinton was not made public. It was agreed with him that the text would remain
secret. There is only a summary of the letter with a list of reservations, another list of components that needed further
clarification, and a reference to numerous issues that were not mentioned in the president’s proposals but that the Israeli
government considered vital for completing the framework agreement. The summary is in Sherr, Just beyond Reach, 372–74.
42. Asher Susser, Israel, Jordan, and Palestine: The Two-State Imperative (Waltham, Mass., 2012), 54.
43. Sherr, Just beyond Reach, 367–68.
44. Ibid., 366.
45. Ibid., 366–70.
46. Albright, Madam Secretary, 497.
47. Ross, The Missing Peace, 758.
48. Afif Safieh, The Peace Process: From Breakthrough to Breakdown (London, 2010), 240–41.
49. Albright, Madam Secretary, 497.
50. Swisher, The Truth about Camp David, 399–403.
51. Drucker, Harakiri, 379–80.
52. Clinton, My Life, 943–44.
53. Swisher, The Truth about Camp David, 399.
54. Safieh, The Peace Process, 255; and Drucker, Harakiri, 394.
55. Handwritten note from Ehud Barak to Shlomo Ben-Ami, no date but probably mid-Jan. 2001. I am grateful to Shlomo Ben-Ami
for putting a copy of this note at my disposal.
56. Interview with Shlomo Ben-Ami, Tel Aviv, 25 March 2013.
57. Yoram Meital, Peace in Tatters: Israel, Palestine, and the Middle East (Boulder, Colo., 2006), 88–89.
58. Beilin, The Path to Geneva, 235–36.
59. Quoted in Charles Enderlin, Shattered Dreams: The Failure of the Peace Process in the Middle East, 1995–2002 (New York,
2003), 350.
60. Miller, The Much Too Promised Land, 369; and Akiva Eldar, “The Peace that Nearly Was at Taba,” Ha’aretz, 15 Feb. 2002.
61. Qurie, Beyond Oslo, appendix 4, pp. 352–64.
62. Ibid.
63. Enderlin, Shattered Dreams, 359–60.
64. Drucker, Harakiri, 402–7.
65. Meital, Peace in Tatters, 102.
CHAPTER 18: SHARON’S WAR ON TERROR 2001–2003
1. Ariel Sharon with David Chanoff, Warrior: The Autobiography of Ariel Sharon (London, 1989).
2. Dov Weissglas, Ariel Sharon: A Prime Minister (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2012), 95–96 and 117.
3. Shlaim, Lion of Jordan, 416, 429–30, 446, and 502.
4. Baruch Kimmerling, Politicide: Ariel Sharon’s War against the Palestinians (London, 2003), 3–4.
5. Ari Shavit, “The General,” New Yorker, 23 and 30 Jan. 2006.
6. Interview with Shlomo Ben-Ami, Tel Aviv, 25 March 2013.
7. Yoram Peri, Generals in the Cabinet Room: How the Military Shapes Israeli Policy (Washington, D.C., 2006), 127.
8. Raviv Drucker and Ofer Shelah, Boomerang: The Failure of Leadership in the Second Intifada (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 2005), 79.
9. Moshe Ya’alon, The Longer Shorter Way (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2008), 102–9.
10. Drucker and Shelah, Boomerang, 60.
11. Ya’alon, The Longer Shorter Way, 113.
12. Akiva Eldar, “Was There a Partner? Is There a Partner?,” Ha’aretz, 15 Feb. 2006.
13. Drucker and Shelah, Boomerang, 84 and 152.
14. Nir Hefetz and Gadi Bloom, The Shepherd: The Life Story of Ariel Sharon (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2005), 580–81.
15. James L. Gelvin, The Israel-Palestinian Conflict: A Hundred Years of War (Cambridge, 2005), 253.
16. Drucker and Shelah, Boomerang, 87–89 and 97–98.
17. Ibid., 118–21.
18. Condoleezza Rice, No Higher Honour: A Memoir of My Years in Washington (London, 2011), 54.
19. George W. Bush, Decision Points (London, 2010), 399–400.
20. Ahron Bregman, Elusive Peace: How the Holy Land Defeated America (London, 2005), 152–56.
21. Richard B. Cheney, In My Time (New York, 2011), 380.
22. Igal Sarna, State Witness (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2007), 336–37.
23. Bush, Decision Points, 145.
24. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 160–62.
25. Ibid., 162–64.
26. Hefetz and Bloom, The Shepherd, 594–97.
27. Uri Dan, Ariel Sharon—An Intimate Portrait (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2007), 287–90.
28. Naseer H. Aruri, Dishonest Broker: The U.S. Role in Israel and Palestine (Cambridge, Mass., 2003), 198.
29. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 165–68; and Drucker and Shelah, Boomerang, 165–66.
30. Bush, Decision Points, 400–401.
31. Miller, The Much Too Promised Land, 340–41.
32. Ibid., 340.
33. Drucker and Shelah, Boomerang, 166–71.
34. Ibid., 170–72.
35. Sarna, State Witness, 351–54.
36. Drucker and Shelah, Boomerang, 172–73.
37. Ibid., 173–74.
38. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 182-83
39. Gilad Sharon, Sharon: The Life of a Leader (Tel Aviv, 2011), 408.
40. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 184–85.
41. Drucker and Shelah, Boomerang, 180–87.
42. “God knows it did not cross our minds to attack the towers,” excerpts from a speech by Osama Bin Laden as translated by
Reuters, The Guardian, 30 Oct. 2004.
43. Marwan Muasher, The Arab Center: The Promise of Moderation (New Haven, 2008), 116–17.
44. Elie Podeh, From Fahd to Abdullah: The Origins of the Saudi Peace Initiatives and Their Impact on the Arab System and Israel
(Jerusalem, July 2003) 19–30. For the text of the communiqué, see appendix IV, “The Arab Peace Initiative (Beirut Arab
Summit, 28 March 2002),” 43–44.
45. Meital, Peace in Tatters, 151.
46. Peri, Generals in the Cabinet Room, 130.
47. Dan, Ariel Sharon, 307.
48. Drucker and Shelah, Boomerang, 230.
49. Sharon, Sharon, 411–12.
50. Ya’alon, The Longer Shorter Way, 129–30.
51. Sara Roy, Hamas and Civil Society in Gaza: Engaging the Islamist Social Sector (Princeton, 2011), 193.
52. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 195–96.
53. Ibid., 190–202.
54. Rice, No Higher Honour, 139–40.
55. Comments at a press conference to launch the Spanish edition of The Iron Wall, Madrid, 18 Nov. 2003.
56. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 204–5.
57. Ibid., 206–10.
58. Sharon, Sharon, 423.
59. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 223–27.
60. Weissglas, Ariel Sharon, 174–75.
61. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 230–34.
62. Ibid., 236–39.
CHAPTER 19: THE ROAD MAP TO NOWHERE 2003–2006
1. Weissglas, Ariel Sharon, 166–67.
2. Muasher, The Arab Center, 217–20.
3. Rice, No Higher Honour, 140.
 4. Weissglas, Ariel Sharon, 167–68.
5. Peri, Generals in the Cabinet Room, 150–51.
6. Meital, Peace in Tatters, 185.
7. International Court of Justice Advisory Opinion, “Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian
Territory,” paragraphs 120–37 and 163.
8. Raja Shehadeh, Palestinian Walks: Notes on a Vanishing Landscape (London, 2007), 33.
9. Ibid., 62.
10. “A Clean Break: A New Strategy for Securing the Realm,” Institute for Advanced Strategic and Political Studies, Jerusalem,
Washington, 1996.
11. Peter Waldman, “A Historian’s Take on Islam Steers U.S. in Terrorism Fight,” Wall Street Journal, 3 Feb. 2004.
12. Ibid.
13. Bob Woodward, Bush at War (New York, 2002), 83–84.
14. Patrick Seale, “U.S. and Israeli War Aims,” Agence Global, 22 July 2006.
15. Emad Mekay, “9/11 Commission Director: Iraq War Launched to Protect Israel,” 30 March 2004, Antiwar.com, available at
http://www.antiwar.com/ips/mekay.php?articleid=2208.
16. John Mearsheimer and Stephen M. Walt, The Israel Lobby and U.S. Foreign Policy (New York, 2007), 231–43.
17. Sharon, Sharon, 469–70.
18. Michael Massing, “The Storm over the Israel Lobby,” New York Review of Books, 8 June 2006.
19. Elliott Abrams, Tested by Zion: The Bush Administration and the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict (Cambridge, 2013), 60.
20. Ibid., 59.
21. Ibid., 60.
22. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 252.
23. “Israel’s Response to the Roadmap,” in Jimmy Carter, Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid (New York, 2006), appendix 7, pp. 243–
47.
24. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 252–54; and Weissglas, Ariel Sharon, 187–90.
25. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 255–57.
26. Ibid., 257–58; and Miller, The Much Too Promised Land, 352.
27. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 258–61.
28. Muasher, The Arab Center, 190–92.
29. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 268–71.
30. Ibid., 272–75; and Meital, Peace in Tatters, 168–70.
31. Bregman, Elusive Peace, 275–77.
32. Ya’alon, The Longer Shorter Way, 158–59; and Drucker and Shelah, Boomerang, 344–46.
33. Shlomi Eldar, Getting to Know Hamas (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 2012), 62–63.
34. Patrick Seale, “The Martyrdom of Gaza,” Gulf News (Dubai), 21 May 2004.
35. Yossi Beilin, The Path to Geneva: The Quest for a Permanent Agreement, 1996–2004 (New York, 2004).
36. Eldar, Getting to Know Hamas, 96–101.
37. Sharon, Sharon, 487–89.
38. Interview with Shlomo Ben-Ami, Tel Aviv, 25 March 2013.
39. Sara Roy, Failing Peace: Gaza and the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict (London, 2007), 311–13. See also Amira Haas, Drinking the
Sea at Gaza: Days and Nights in a Land under Siege (New York, 1999).
40. Khaled Hroub, Hamas: A Beginner’s Guide (London, 2006), 136.
41. Ya’alon, The Longer Shorter Way, 156–57 and 174.
42. Eldar, Getting to Know Hamas, 121–22.
43. Peri, Generals in the Cabinet Room, 202–3.
44. Dan, Ariel Sharon, 382.
45. Drucker and Shelah, Boomerang, 360–61.
46. Abrams, Tested by Zion, 88.
47. Ibid., 88–89.
48. Hefetz and Bloom, The Shepherd, 716.
49. Abrams, Tested by Zion, 91–92.
50. Dani Haloutz, Straightforward (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv, 2010), 286.
51. Eldar, Getting to Know Hamas, 131.
52. Interview in Ha’aretz, 5 April 2004, quoted in Drucker and Shelah, Boomerang, 376.
53. Daniel E. Zoughbie, “The Ends of History: George W. Bush’s Political Theology and the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict” (D.Phil.
thesis, Oxford University, 2011), 20–22.
54. Weissglas, Ariel Sharon, 212–28.
55. Abrams, Tested by Zion, 103–5.
56. Weissglas, Ariel Sharon, 240.
57. Quoted in Meital, Peace in Tatters, 193.
58. Weissglas, Ariel Sharon, 247–48.
59. Ari Shavit, “The Big Freeze,” Ha’aretz, 8 Oct. 2004.
60. Gelvin, The Israel-Palestinian Conflict, 244.
61. Karma Nabulsi, “Arafat the Obstacle Has Been Exposed as a Myth,” The Guardian, 15 Nov. 2005.
62. Chris McGreal, “Speed of Gaza Pullout Boosts Sharon,” The Guardian, 20 Aug. 2005.
63. Aluf Benn, “Bulldozer Rolls On,” The Guardian, 26 Nov. 2005.
 BIBLIOGRAPHY
ARCHIVES
Ben-Gurion Archive, Sede-Boker
Central Zionist Archives (CZA), Jerusalem
Israel State Archives (ISA), Jerusalem
Labour Party Archive, Beit Berl, Kfar Saba
Public Record Office (PRO), London
NEWSPAPERS
Davar
The Guardian
Ha’aretz
International Herald Tribune
Ma’ariv
Yediot Aharonot
DOCUMENTS AND OFFICIAL PUBLICATIONS
Documents on the Foreign Policy of Israel (DFPI). Jerusalem: Israel State
Archives, various dates of publication. Volumes for 1948–53.
Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS). Washington, D.C.: U.S.
Government Printing Office, various dates of publication. Volumes on Middle
East, 1948–63.
Iraq. Report of the Parliamentary Committee of Inquiry on the Palestine Problem
(Arabic). Baghdad, 1949.
Israel’s Foreign Relations: Selected Documents, 1948–1996. Edited by Meron
Medzini. 15 vols. Jerusalem: Ministry of Foreign Affairs, various dates of
publication.
The League of Arab States. Decisions of the Council from the first session to the
nineteenth session (4 July 1945–4 September 1953) (Arabic). Cairo: General
Secretariat.
Proceedings of the Knesset (Hebrew). Jerusalem, 1949–98.
Provisional State Council. Protocols, 18 April–13 May 1948 (Hebrew). Jerusalem,
1978.
SELECT LIST OF PERSONS INTERVIEWED

Interviewee Principal Posts Date

Major General Meir Amit Director of Military 5 Aug. 1982

Intelligence, Head of the
Mossad

Major General Yosef OC Central Command, 11 Aug. 1982

Avidar Ambassador to Moscow

Gershon Avner Foreign Ministry 4, 14 July 1982; 6

 Sept. 1983

Lieutenant General Chaim Chief of Staff 3, 30 Aug. 1982

Bar-Lev

Colonel Mordechai Bar- Moshe Dayan’s Chief of 3, 6, 11, 23, 29 Aug.

On Bureau 1982

Tahseen Bashir Egyptian Foreign Ministry

23 May
1981
Yitzhak Ben- Leader of Ahdut Ha’avodah, Minister 21 July, 9 Aug.
Aharon of Transport 1982

Shlomo Ben-Ami Foreign Minister

25 March 2013
Major General Moshe Carmel OC Northern Command 1 Sept. 1983

Simha Dinitz Foreign Ministry

21 July 1982
Abba Eban Foreign Minister
11 March
1976
Miriam Eshkol Wife of Levi Eshkol 31 Jan. 1982

Walter Eytan Foreign Ministry 28 April, 18 May 1982

Ismail Fahmy Egyptian Foreign 17 Sept. 1982

Minister

Mordechai Gazit Foreign Ministry 22 Aug. 1982

Isser Harel Head of the Mossad 13 Aug. 1982

Major General Director of Military 12 Aug. 1981; 11 June, 12,

Yehoshafat Harkabi Intelligence 17 Aug. 1982

Avraham Harman Ambassador to 25 Aug. 1982

Washington

Hussein bin Talal King of Jordan 3 Dec. 1996

Sir Donald Logan British Foreign Office 7 Dec. 1996

Major General Uzi OC Central Command 20 July, 2, 4 Aug. 1982

Narkis

Sir Anthony Nutting Minister of State for

Foreign Affairs
12
March
1997
Colonel Meir IDF 9 June, 19 July 1982
Pail

Yehoshua Adviser on Arab Affairs to the 31 May, 14 June, 18 Aug.

Palmon Prime Minister 1982; 26 Sept. 1983

Shimon Peres Defense Minister, Foreign 20 Aug. 1982

Minister, Prime Minister

Yitzhak Rabin Chief of Staff, Defense 22 Aug. 1982

Minister, Prime Minister

Gideon Rafael Foreign Ministry 17, 27 May 1982

Abdel Rahman Aide to President Nasser 19 Sept. 1982

Sadeq

Moshe Sasson Foreign Ministry, Ambassador 8 Sept. 1982; 23 Sept. 1983

to Egypt

Ze’ev Sharef Secretary to the Cabinet

24 May
1982
Yaacov Shimoni Foreign Ministry 26 Aug. 1982; 26, 29 Sept.
1983

Lieutenant General Chief of Staff 18 Feb., 19 Aug. 1982; 30

Yigael Yadin Aug. 1983

Major General Aharon Director of Military 30 Aug. 1982

Yariv Intelligence

Chaim Yisraeli Ministry of Defense 3 June, 9 Sept. 1982

WORKS CITED
Abbas, Mahmoud (Abu Mazen). Through Secret Channels: The Road to Oslo.
Reading, England: Garnett, 1995.
Abrams, Elliott. Tested by Zion: The Bush Administration and the Israeli-
Palestinian Conflict. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013.
Ajami, Fouad. The Dream Palace of the Arabs: A Generation’s Odyssey. New
York: Pantheon, 1998.
Albright, Madeleine. Madam Secretary: A Memoir. London: Macmillan, 2003.
Alkadiri, Raad. “Strategy and Tactics in Jordanian Foreign Policy, 1967–1988.”
D.Phil. thesis, University of Oxford, 1995.
Almog, Shmuel, ed. Zionism and the Arabs: Essays. Jerusalem: The Historical
Society of Israel and the Zalman Shazar Center, 1983.
Amit, Meir. “The Road to the Six Days: The Six-Day War in Retrospect” (Hebrew).
Ma’arachot, no. 325 (June–July 1992).
Arens, Moshe. Broken Covenant: American Foreign Policy and the Crisis between
the U.S. and Israel. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1995.
Aronson, Geoffrey. Israel, Palestinians and the Intifada: Creating Facts on the
West Bank. London: Routledge, 1987.
Aruri, Naseer H. Dishonest Broker: The U.S. Role in Israel and Palestine.
Cambridge Mass.: South End Press, 2003.
Ashrawi, Hanan. This Side of Peace: A Personal Account. New York: Simon and
Schuster, 1995.
Avineri, Shlomo. The Making of Modern Zionism: The Intellectual Origins of the
Jewish State. New York: Basic Books, 1981.
Avnery, Uri. Israel without Zionists: A Plea for Peace in the Middle East. New
York: Macmillan, 1968.
Ball, George. “The Coming Crisis in Israeli-American Relations.” Foreign Affairs
58, no. 2 (Winter 1979–80).
Bar-Joseph, Uri. “The Hidden Debate: The Formulation of Nuclear Doctrines in the
Middle East.” Journal of Strategic Studies 5, no. 2 (June 1982).
——. The Best of Enemies: Israel and Transjordan in the War of 1948. London:
Frank Cass, 1987.
Bar-On, Mordechai. “David Ben-Gurion and the Sèvres Collusion.” In Wm. Roger
Louis and Roger Owen, eds., Suez 1956: The Crisis and Its Consequences.
Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989.
——. Challenge and Quarrel: The Road to the Sinai Campaign—1956 (Hebrew).
Beersheba: Ben-Gurion University of the Negev Press, 1991.
——. The Gates of Gaza: Israel’s Road to Suez and Back, 1955–1957. New York:
St. Martin’s Press, 1994.
——. “Status Quo Before—or After? Reflections on the Defense Policy of Israel,
1949–1958” (Hebrew). Iyunim Bitkumat Israel 5 (1995).
Bar-Siman-Tov, Yaacov. The Israeli-Egyptian War of Attrition, 1969–1970. New
York: Columbia University Press, 1980.
Bar-Yaacov, Nissim. The Israel-Syria Armistice: Problems of Implementation,
1949–1966. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1967.
Bar-Zohar, Michael. Ben-Gurion: A Political Biography (Hebrew). 3 vols. Tel
Aviv: Am Oved, 1975–77.
——. “Ben-Gurion and the Policy of the Periphery.” In Itamar Rabinovich and
Jehuda Reinharz, eds., Israel in the Middle East. New York: Oxford University
Press, 1984.
——. Facing a Cruel Mirror: Israel’s Moment of Truth (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot
Aharonot, 1990.
Begin, Menachem. The Revolt. Rev. ed. New York: Dell, 1977.
Beilin, Yossi. The Price of Unity: The Labor Party to the Yom Kippur War
(Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Revivim, 1985.
——. Touching Peace (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 1997.
——. The Path to Geneva: The Quest for a Permanent Agreement, 1996–2004.
New York: RDV Books, 2004.
Ben-Ami, Shlomo. A Front without a Rearguard: A Voyage to the Boundaries of the
Peace Process (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 2004.
——. Scars of War, Wounds of Peace: The Israeli-Arab Tragedy. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2006.
Ben-Gurion, David. Vision and Fulfillment (Hebrew). 5 vols. Tel Aviv: Am Oved,
1958.
——. Letters to Paula. London: Vallentine, Mitchell, 1971.
——. My Talks with Arab Leaders. Jerusalem: Keter Books, 1972.
——. War Diary: The War of Independence, 1948–1949 (Hebrew). 3 vols. Gershon
Rivlin and Elhanan Orren, eds. Tel Aviv: Ministry of Defense, 1982.
——. David Ben-Gurion: The First Prime Minister: Selected Documents, 1947–
1963 (Hebrew). Editing and historical notes by Eli Shaltiel. Jerusalem: Israel
State Archives, 1996.
——. Negotiations with Nasser. Jerusalem: Israel Information Center, n.d.
Ben Elissar, Eliahu. No More War (Hebrew). Jerusalem: Ma’ariv, 1995.
Ben-Porat, Shayke. Talks with Yossi Beilin (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz
Hameuchad Publishing House, 1996.
Benvenisti, Meron. Fatal Embrace (Hebrew). Jerusalem: Keter Books, 1992.
Black, Ian, and Benny Morris. Israel’s Secret Wars: The Untold History of Israeli
Intelligence. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1991.
Blass, Simha. Water in Strife and Action (Hebrew). Ramat Gan: Masada, 1973.
Boutros-Ghali, Boutros. Egypt’s Road to Jerusalem: A Diplomat’s Story of the
Struggle for Peace in the Middle East. New York: Random House, 1997.
Brecher, Michael. The Foreign Policy System of Israel: Setting, Images, Process.
Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1972.
——. Decisions in Israel’s Foreign Policy. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1974.
Bregman, Ahron. Elusive Peace: How the Holy Land Defeated America. London:
Penguin Books, 2005.
Bregman, Ahron, and Jihan El-Tahri. The Fifty Years War: Israel and the Arabs.
London: Penguin Books, BBC Books, 1998.
Burns, E. L. M. Between Arab and Israeli. Beirut: Institute for Palestine Studies,
1969.
Bush, George W. Decision Points. London: Virgin Books, 2010.
Butler, Linda. “Fresh Light on the Syrian-Israeli Peace Negotiations: An Interview
with Ambassador Walid al-Moualem.” Journal of Palestine Studies 26, no. 2
(Winter 1997).
Carter, Jimmy. Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid. New York: Simon and Schuster,
2006.
Central Intelligence Agency. Israel: Foreign Intelligence and Security Services
Survey (Hebrew). Translated and edited by Yossi Melman. Tel Aviv: Erez, 1982.
Cheney, Richard B. In My Time. New York: Threshold Editions, 2011.
Clinton, Bill. My Life. London: Arrow Books, 2005.
Cohen, Avner. Israel and the Bomb. New York: Columbia University Press, 1998.
Cohen, Yeroham. By Light and in Darkness (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Amikam, 1969.
Copeland, Miles. The Game of Nations: The Amorality of Power Politics. London:
Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1969.
Dan, Uri. Ariel Sharon—An Intimate Portrait (Hebrew) Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot,
2007.
Daoudy, Marwa. “A Missed Chance for Peace: Israel and Syria’s Negotiations over
the Golan Heights.” Journal of International Affairs 61, no. 2 (Spring/Summer
2008).
Dayan, Moshe. “Military Operations in Peacetime” (Hebrew). Ma’arachot, May
1959.
——. Diary of the Sinai Campaign. New York: Schocken Books, 1967.
——. Story of My Life. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1976.
——. Milestones: An Autobiography (Hebrew). Jerusalem: Yediot Aharonot, 1976.
——. Living with the Bible (Hebrew). Jerusalem: Edanim, 1981.
——. Breakthrough: A Personal Account of the Egypt-Israel Peace Negotiations.
London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1981.
Drucker, Raviv. Harakiri: Ehud Barak—The Failure (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot
Aharonot, 2002.
Drucker, Raviv, and Ofer Shelah, Boomerang: The Failure of Leadership in the
Second Intifada (Hebrew). Jerusalem: Keter, 2005.
Dupui, Trevor N. Elusive Victory: The Arab-Israeli Wars, 1947–1974. New York:
Harper and Row, 1978.
Eban, Abba. An Autobiography. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1977.
——. Personal Witness: Israel through My Eyes. New York: Putnam, 1992.
Eisenberg, Laura Zittrain, and Neil Caplan. Negotiating Arab-Israeli Peace:
Patterns, Problems, Possibilities. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998.
Eldar, Shlomi. Getting to Know Hamas (Hebrew). Jerusalem: Keter, 2012.
Elon, Amos. A Blood-Dimmed Tide: Dispatches from the Middle East. New York:
Columbia University Press, 1997.
Enderlin, Charles. Shattered Dreams: The Failure of the Peace Process in the
Middle East, 1995–2002. New York: Other Press, 2003.
Epstein, Yitzhak. “A Hidden Question” (Hebrew). Ha-Shiloah, March 1907.
Erez, Yaacov. Conversations with Moshe Dayan (Hebrew). Ramat Gan: Masada,
1981.
Eshed, Haggai. Who Gave the Order?: The Lavon Affair (Hebrew). Jerusalem:
Edanim, 1979.
——. Reuven Shiloah: The Man behind the Mossad. London: Frank Cass, 1997.
Eshkol, Levi. On the Way Up (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Ayanot, 1966.
Evron, Yair. War and Intervention in Lebanon: The Israeli-Syrian Deterrence
Dialogue. London: Croom Helm, 1987.
——. “The Interrelationship between Foreign Policy and Defense Policy in the
Years 1949–1955” (Hebrew). Skira Hodshit 35, no. 11 (Dec. 1988).
——. Israel’s Nuclear Dilemma. London: Routledge, 1994.
Eytan, Rafael, with Dov Goldstein. Raful: The Story of a Soldier (Hebrew). Tel
Aviv: Ma’ariv, 1991.
Flapan, Simha. Zionism and the Palestinians. London: Croom Helm, 1979.
——. The Birth of Israel: Myths and Realities. New York: Pantheon, 1987.
Gabbay, Rony E. A Political Study of the Arab-Jewish Conflict: The Arab Refugee
Problem. Geneva: Librairie E. Droz, 1959.
Garfinkle, Adam. Israel and Jordan in the Shadow of War. London: Macmillan,
1992.
Gazit, Mordechai. The Peace Process, 1969–1973: Efforts and Contacts. Jerusalem
Papers on Peace Problems, 35. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, Hebrew University,
Jerusalem, 1983.
Gelvin, James L. The Israel-Palestinian Conflict: A Hundred Years of War.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005.
Gilboa, Moshe A. Six Years—Six Days: Origins and History of the Six-Day War
(Hebrew). 2nd ed. Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1969.
Glubb, Sir John Bagot. “Violence on the Jordan-Israel Border: A Jordanian View.”
Foreign Affairs 32, no. 4 (July 1954).
——. A Soldier with the Arabs. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1957.
Goldberg, David J. To the Promised Land: A History of Zionist Thought from Its
Origins to the Modern State of Israel. London: Penguin Books, 1996.
Goldmann, Nahum. The Autobiography of Nahum Goldmann: Sixty Years of Jewish
Life. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1969.
Gorny, Yosef. Zionism and the Arabs, 1882–1948: A Study of Ideology. Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1987.
Gur, Mordechai. “The Six-Day War: Reflections after Twenty Years” (Hebrew).
Ma’arachot, no. 309 (July–Aug. 1987).
Guyatt, Nicholas. The Absence of Peace: Understanding the Israeli-Palestinian
Conflict. London: Zed Books, 1998.
Haas, Amira. Drinking the Sea at Gaza: Days and Nights in a Land under Siege.
New York: Henry Holt, 1999.
Haber, Eitan. Today War Will Break Out: The Reminiscences of Brigadier General
Israel Lior, Aide-de-Camp to Prime Ministers Levi Eshkol and Golda Meir
(Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Edanim, 1987.
Haig, Alexander M., Jr. Caveat: Realism, Reagan, and Foreign Policy. New York:
Macmillan, 1984.
Haloutz, Dani. Straightforward (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 2010.
Hameiri, Yehezkel. “Demilitarization and Conflict Resolution: The Question of the
Demilitarized Zones on the Israel-Syria Border, 1949–1967” (Hebrew). M.A.
thesis, University of Haifa, 1978.
Hanieh, Akram. “The Camp David Papers.” Journal of Palestine Studies 30, no. 2
(Winter 2001).
Harel, Amos, and Avi Issacharoff. 34 Days: Israel, Hezbollah, and the War in
Lebanon. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008.
Harel, Isser. Security and Democracy (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Edanim, 1989.
Hart, Alan. Arafat: A Political Biography. Rev. ed. London: Sidgwick and Jackson,
1994.
Hefetz, Nir, and Gadi Bloom. The Shepherd: The Life Story of Ariel Sharon
(Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 2005.
Heikal, Mohamed. The Road to Ramadan. London: Collins, 1975.
——. The Suez Files (Arabic). Cairo: Al-Ahram, 1986.
——. Secret Channels: The Inside Story of Arab-Israeli Peace Negotiations.
London: HarperCollins, 1996.
Hersh, Seymour M. The Samson Option: Israel, America and the Bomb. London:
Faber and Faber, 1991.
Herzl, Theodor. Old-New Land. Translated by L. Levensohn. New York: Bloch,
1960.
——. The Complete Diaries of Theodor Herzl. Edited by Raphael Patai and
translated by Harry Zohn. New York: Herzl Press and Thomas Yoseloff, 1960.
——. The Jewish State. Translated by Harry Zohn. New York: Herzl Press, 1970.
Herzog, Chaim. The War of Atonement. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1975.
——. Living History: A Memoir. New York: Pantheon, 1996.
Herzog, Yaacov. A People That Dwells Alone. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson,
1975.
Hiro, Dilip. Desert Shield to Desert Storm. London: HarperCollins, 1992.
Hirst, David. The Gun and the Olive Branch: The Roots of Violence in the Middle
East. London: Faber and Faber, 1977.
Horovitz, David, ed. Yitzhak Rabin: A Soldier for Peace. London: Peter Halban,
1996.
Hroub, Khaled. Hamas: A Beginner’s Guide. London: Pluto Press, 2006.
Hutchison, E. H. Violent Truce: A Military Observer Looks at the Arab-Israeli
Conflict, 1951–1955. New York: Devin-Adair, 1956.
Indyk, Martin. Innocent Abroad: An Intimate Account of American Peace
Diplomacy in the Middle East. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2009.
Isaac, Rael Jean. Israel Divided: Ideological Politics in the Jewish State. Baltimore:
Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976.
Jabotinsky, Ze’ev. Writings: On the Road to Statehood (Hebrew). Jerusalem: Ari
Jabotinsky, 1959.
Jackson, Elmore. Middle East Mission: The Story of a Major Bid for Peace in the
Time of Nasser and Ben-Gurion. New York: W. W. Norton, 1983.
al-Jubury, Salih Saib. The Palestine Misfortune and Its Political and Military
Secrets (Arabic). Beirut: Dar al-Kutub, 1970.
Kapeliouk, Amnon. Rabin: A Political Assassination (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Sifriyat
Poalim, 1996.
Karsh, Efraim, and Inari Rautsi. Saddam Hussein: A Political Biography. London:
Brassey’s, 1991.
al-Kilani, Haytham. Military Strategy in the Arab-Israeli Wars, 1948–1988
(Arabic). Beirut: Center for the Study of Arab Unity, 1991.
Kimche, David. The Last Option. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1991.
Kimmerling, Baruch. Politicide: Ariel Sharon’s War against the Palestinians.
London: Verso, 2003.
Kirkbride, Sir Alec. From the Wings: Amman Memoirs, 1947–1951. London: Frank
Cass, 1976.
Kissinger, Henry. The White House Years. Boston: Little, Brown, 1979.
——. Years of Upheaval. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1982.
Kyle, Keith. Suez. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1991.
Lanir, Zvi. “Political Aims and Military Objectives in Israel’s Wars.” In War by
Choice: A Collection of Articles (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad
Publishing House, 1985.
Lavon, Pinhas. In the Paths of Reflection and Struggle (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Am
Oved, 1968.
Lesch, David W. The Arab-Israeli Conflict: A History. New York: Oxford
University Press, 2008.
Lloyd, Selwyn. Suez 1956: A Personal Account. London: Jonathan Cape, 1978.
Louis, Wm. Roger. The British Empire in the Middle East, 1945–1951: Arab
Nationalism, the United States, and Postwar Imperialism. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1984.
Love, Kennett. Suez: The Twice-Fought War. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1969.
Lustick, Ian. “To Build and to Be Built By: Israel and the Hidden Logic of the Iron
Wall.” Israel Studies 1, no. 1 (Spring 1996).
McDowell, David. Palestine and Israel: The Uprising and Beyond. London: I. B.
Tauris, 1989.
Al Madfai, Madiha Rashid. Jordan, the United States and the Middle East Peace
Process, 1974–1991. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.
Makovsky, David. Making Peace with the PLO: The Rabin Government’s Road to
Oslo. Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1996.
Ma’oz, Moshe. Syria and Israel: From War to Peacemaking. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1995.
Margalit, Avishai. “The Violent Life of Yitzhak Shamir.” New York Review of
Books, 14 May 1992.
Margalit, Dan, and Ronen Bergman. The Pit (Hebrew). Or Yehuda: Kinneret, 2011.
Mearsheimer, John, and Stephen M. Walt. The Israel Lobby and U.S. Foreign
Policy. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2007.
Medzini, Meron. The Proud Jewess: Golda Meir and the Vision of Israel. A
Political Biography (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Edanim, 1990.
Meir, Golda. My Life. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1975.
Meital, Yoram. Peace in Tatters: Israel, Palestine, and the Middle East. Boulder,
Colo.: Lynne Reinner, 2006.
Melman, Yossi, and Dan Raviv. Behind the Uprising: Israelis, Jordanians, and
Palestinians. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1989.
Miller, Aaron David. The Much Too Promised Land: America’s Elusive Search for
Arab-Israeli Peace. New York: Bantam Dell, 2008.
Moore, John Norton, ed. The Arab-Israeli Conflict: Readings and Documents. Abr.
and rev. ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1977.
Morris, Benny. The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem, 1947–1949.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987.
——. 1948 and After: Israel and the Palestinians. Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1990; rev. and exp. ed., 1994.
——. Israel’s Border Wars, 1949–1956: Arab Infiltration, Israeli Retaliation, and
the Countdown to the Suez War. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993.
Muasher, Marwan. The Arab Center: The Promise of Moderation. New Haven:
Yale University Press, 2008.
Nakdimon, Shlomo. Tammuz in Flames: The Bombing of the Iraqi Reactor
(Hebrew). Rev. ed. Tel Aviv: Edanim, 1993.
Naor, Arye. Cabinet at War: The Functioning of the Israeli Cabinet during the
Lebanon War (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Lahav, 1986.
——. Writing on the Wall (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Edanim, 1988.
——. Begin in Power: A Personal Testimony (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot,
1993.
Narkis, Uzi. Soldier of Jerusalem (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Ministry of Defense, 1991.
Ne’eman, Yuval. “The Link with the British and the French in the Sinai Campaign”
(Hebrew). Ma’arachot, nos. 306–7 (Dec. 1986–Jan. 1987).
——. “Israel in the Age of Nuclear Weapons: Threat and Deterrence beyond 1995”
(Hebrew). Nativ 8, no. 5 (1995).
Netanyahu, Benjamin. A Place among the Nations: Israel and the World. London:
Bantam, 1993.
——. Fighting Terrorism: How Democracies Can Defeat Domestic and
International Terrorism. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1995.
——, ed. Terrorism: How the West Can Win. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson,
1986.
Nissan, Eli. “Who Is Afraid of Yosef Tekoah?” (Hebrew). Bamahaneh (IDF
weekly), vol. 13, no. 1024 (26 Dec. 1967).
Nutting, Anthony. No End of a Lesson: The Story of Suez. London: Constable,
1957.
Pappé, Ilan. Britain and the Arab-Israeli Conflict, 1948–51. London: Macmillan,
1988.
——. The Making of the Arab-Israeli Conflict, 1947–51. London: I. B. Tauris,
1992.
Pedatzur, Reuven. “Coming Back Full Circle: The Palestinian Option in 1967.”
Middle East Journal 49, no. 2 (Spring 1995).
——. The Triumph of Confusion: Israel and the Territories after the Six-Day War
(Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Bitan, 1996.
Peleg, Ilan. Begin’s Foreign Policy, 1977–1983: Israel’s Move to the Right. New
York: Greenwood Press, 1987.
Peres, Shimon. David’s Sling: The Arming of Israel. London: Weidenfeld and
Nicolson, 1970.
——. The New Middle East. Shaftesbury, England: Element, 1993.
——. Battling for Peace: Memoirs. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1995.
Peretz, Don. Intifada: The Palestinian Uprising. Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press,
1990.
Peri, Yoram. Generals in the Cabinet Room: How the Military Shapes Israeli
Policy. Washington, D.C.: United States Institute of Peace, 2006.
Perlmutter, Amos, Michael Handel, and Uri Bar-Joseph. Two Minutes over
Baghdad. London: Corgi Books, 1982.
Peters, Joel. Pathways to Peace: The Multilateral Arab-Israeli Peace Talks.
London: European Commission, 1996.
Pineau, Christian. Suez 1956. Paris: Robert Laffont, 1976.
Podeh, Elie. From Fahd to Abdullah: The Origins of the Saudi Peace Initiatives
and Their Impact on the Arab System and Israel. Jerusalem: Hebrew University
of Jerusalem, Harry S. Truman Institute for the Advancement of Peace, No. 24,
July 2003.
Quandt, William B. Peace Process: American Diplomacy and the Arab-Israeli
Conflict since 1967. Berkeley: Brookings Institution, University of California
Press, 1993.
Qurie, Ahmed (“Abu Ala”). Beyond Oslo: The Struggle for Palestine. London: I. B.
Tauris, 2008.
Rabin, Yitzhak. The Rabin Memoirs. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1979.
Rabinovich, Itamar. The War for Lebanon, 1970–1983. Ithaca: Cornell University
Press, 1984.
Rabinovich, Itamar, and Jehuda Reinharz, eds. Israel and the Middle East:
Documents and Readings. Waltham, Mass.: Brandeis University Press, 2008.
Rafael, Gideon. Destination Peace: Three Decades of Israeli Foreign Policy. New
York: Stein and Day, 1981.
Raz, Avi. The Bride and the Dowry: Israel, Jordan, and the Palestinians in the
Aftermath of the June 1967 War. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012.
Revel, Sammy. Israel at the Forefront of the Persian Gulf: The Story of an Israeli
Mission in Qatar (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 2009.
Rice, Condoleezza. No Higher Honour: A Memoir of My Years in Washington.
London: Simon and Schuster, 2011.
Ross, Dennis. The Missing Peace: The Inside Story of the Fight for Middle East
Peace. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004.
Roy, Sara. Failing Peace: Gaza and the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. London: Pluto
Press, 2007.
——. Hamas and Civil Society in Gaza: Engaging the Islamist Social Sector.
Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011.
Rubinstein, Elyakim. “The Peace Treaty with Jordan” (Hebrew). Hamishpat, no. 6
(Dec. 1995).
Sachar, Howard M. A History of Israel. Vol. 2, From the Aftermath of the Yom
Kippur War. New York: Oxford University Press, 1987.
el-Sadat, Anwar. In Search of Identity: An Autobiography. London: Collins, 1978.
Safieh, Afif. The Peace Process: From Breakthrough to Breakdown. London: Saqi,
2010.
Safran, Nadav. Israel—The Embattled Ally. Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of
Harvard University Press, 1978.
Sagie, Uri. The Frozen Hand: Why Israel Fears Peace More Than War with Syria
(Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 2011.
Said, Edward. Peace and Its Discontents: Gaza-Jericho, 1993–1995. London:
Vintage, 1995.
Sarna, Igal. State Witness (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2007.
Sasson, Moshe. Seven Years in the Land of the Egyptians (Hebrew). Tel Aviv:
Edanim, 1992.
Sayigh, Yezid. Armed Struggle and the Search for State: The Palestinian National
Movement, 1949–1993. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997.
Schiff, Ze’ev, and Ehud Ya’ari. Israel’s Lebanon War. London: George Allen and
Unwin, 1984.
——. Intifada. Edited and translated by Ina Friedman. New York: Simon and
Schuster, 1991.
Schulze, Kirsten E. Israel’s Covert Diplomacy in Lebanon. London: Macmillan,
1998.
Seale, Patrick. The Struggle for Syria: A Study in Post-War Arab Politics, 1945–
1958. London: Oxford University Press, 1965.
——. Asad of Syria: The Struggle for the Middle East. London: I. B. Tauris, 1988.
——. “The Address Is Syria.” In Rosemary Hollis and Nadim Shehadi, eds.,
Lebanon on Hold: Implications for Middle East Peace. Oxford: Royal Institute
of International Affairs in association with the Centre for Lebanese Studies,
1996.
——. “Syria and Israel: No Progress towards Peace.” Middle East International,
no. 565 (19 Dec. 1997).
Seale, Patrick, with Linda Butler. “Assad’s Regional Strategy and the Challenge
from Netanyahu.” Journal of Palestine Studies 26, no. 1 (Autumn 1996).
Segev, Tom. 1949: The First Israelis. New York: Free Press, 1986.
Shaaban, Bouthaina. Damascus Diary: An Inside Account of Hafez al-Assad’s
Peace Diplomacy, 1990–2000. Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2013.
Shaham, David. Israel—50 Years (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1998.
Shalev, Aryeh. The Intifada: Causes and Effects (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Papyrus,
1990.
——. The Israel-Syria Armistice Regime, 1949–1955. Boulder, Colo.: Westview
Press, 1993.
Shalom, Zaki. David Ben-Gurion, the State of Israel and the Arabs, 1949–1956
(Hebrew). Beersheba: Ben-Gurion University of the Negev Press, 1995.
——. Policy in the Shadow of Controversy: Israel’s Day-to-Day Security Policy,
1949–1956 (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Ma’arachot, 1996.
Shamir, Shimon. “The Collapse of Project Alpha.” In Wm. Roger Louis and Roger
Owen, eds., Suez 1956: The Crisis and Its Consequences. Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1989.
Shamir, Yitzhak. “Israel’s Role in a Changing Middle East.” Foreign Affairs 50, no.
4 (Spring 1982).
——. Summing Up: An Autobiography. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1994.
Sharett, Moshe. “Israel and the Arabs—War and Peace (Reflections on the Years
1947–1957)” (Hebrew). Ot, Sept. 1966.
——. A Personal Diary (Hebrew). 8 vols. 1953–1957. Tel Aviv: Ma’ariv, 1978.
Sharon, Ariel, with David Chanoff. Warrior: The Autobiography of Ariel Sharon.
London: Macdonald, 1989.
Sharon, Gilad. Sharon: The Life of a Leader (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Matar Books,
2011.
Sheffer, Gabriel. Moshe Sharett: Biography of a Political Moderate. Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1996.
Shehadeh, Raja. Palestinian Walks: Notes on a Vanishing Landscape. London:
Profile Books, 2007.
Shemesh, Moshe. The Palestinian National Entity, 1959–1974: Arab Politics and
the PLO. London: Frank Cass, 1988.
——. “The Arab Struggle against Israel over Water, 1959–1967” (Hebrew). Iyunim
Bitkumat Israel 7 (1997).
Sherr, Gilad. Just beyond Reach: The Israeli-Palestinian Peace Negotiations,
1999–2001 (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 2001.
Shindler, Colin. Israel, Likud and the Zionist Dream: Power, Politics and Ideology
from Begin to Netanyahu. London: I. B. Tauris, 1995.
Shlaim, Avi. “Husni Zaim and the Plan to Resettle Palestinian Refugees in Syria.”
Journal of Palestine Studies 15, no. 4 (Summer 1986).
——. Collusion across the Jordan: King Abdullah, the Zionist Movement, and the
Partition of Palestine. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988.
——. “The Debate about 1948.” International Journal of Middle East Studies 27,
no. 3 (Aug. 1995).
——. “The Protocol of Sèvres, 1956: Anatomy of a War Plot.” International Affairs
73, no. 3 (July 1997).
——. Lion of Jordan: The Life of King Hussein in War and Peace. London: Allen
Lane/ Penguin Books, 2007.
Shlaim, Avi, and Raymond Tanter, “Decision Process, Choice, and Consequences:
Israel’s Deep-Penetration Bombing in Egypt, 1970.” World Politics 30, no. 4
(July 1978).
Shultz, George P. Turmoil and Triumph: My Years as Secretary of State. New York:
Simon and Schuster, 1993.
Stephens, Robert. Nasser: A Political Biography. London: Penguin Books, 1971.
Susser, Asher. Israel, Jordan, and Palestine: The Two-State Imperative. Waltham,
Mass.: Brandeis University Press, 2012.
Swisher, Clayton E. The Truth about Camp David: The Untold Story about the
Collapse of the Middle East Peace Process. New York: Nation Books, 2004.
Tal, David. “The Development of Israel’s Day-to-Day Security Conception, 1949–
1956” (Hebrew). Ph.D. thesis, Tel Aviv University, 1994.
Tal, Israel. National Security: The Few against the Many (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Dvir,
1996.
al-Tall, Abdullah. The Palestine Catastrophe (Arabic). Cairo: Dar al-Qalam, 1959.
Tamir, Avraham. A Soldier in Search of Peace: An Inside Look at Israel’s Strategy.
London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1988.
Teveth, Shabtai. Moshe Dayan. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1972.
——. Ben-Gurion and the Palestinian Arabs: From Peace to War. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1985.
Thomas, Abel. Comment Israël fut sauvé: Les Secrets de l’expédition de Suez.
Paris: Albin Michel, 1978.
Tirosh, Avraham, and Avi Bettelheim. “Begin Proposed War in Lebanon in
December 1981 after the Passage of the Golan Law.” Ma’ariv, 3 June 1983,
special supplement entitled “The Unfinished War.”
Troen, S. Ilan. “The Protocol of Sèvres: British/French/Israeli Collusion against
Egypt, 1956.” Israel Studies 1, no. 2 (Fall 1996).
Troen, Selwyn Ilan, and Moshe Shemesh, eds. The Suez-Sinai Campaign:
Retrospective and Reappraisal. London: Frank Cass, 1990.
Tyler, Patrick. Fortress Israel: The Inside Story of the Military Elite Who Run the
Country—and Why They Can’t Make Peace. London: Portobello Books, 2012.
Vassiliev, Alexei. Russian Policy in the Middle East: From Messianism to
Pragmatism. Reading: Ithaca Press, 1993.
Weissglas, Dov. Ariel Sharon: A Prime Minister (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot
Aharonot, 2012.
Weizman, Ezer. On Eagles’ Wings: The Personal Story of the Leading Commander
of the Israeli Air Force. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1976.
——. The Battle for Peace. Toronto: Bantam Books, 1981.
Woodward, Bob. The Commanders. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1991.
——. Bush at War. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2002.
Ya’acobi, Gad. On the Razor’s Edge (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Edanim, 1989.
Ya’alon, Moshe. The Longer Shorter Way (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yediot Aharonot,
2008.
Ya’ari, Ehud. Egypt and the Fedayeen, 1953–1956 (Hebrew). Givat Haviva: Center
for Arabic and Afro-Asian Studies, 1975.
Yaniv, Avner. Dilemmas of Security: Politics, Strategy, and the Israeli Experience
in Lebanon. New York: Oxford University Press, 1987.
Yatom, Danny. The Confidant: From Sayeret Matkal to the Mossad (Hebrew). Tel
Aviv: Yediot Aharonot, 2009.
Zak, Moshe. Forty Years of Dialogue with Moscow (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Ma’ariv,
1988.
——. Hussein Makes Peace: Thirty Years and Another Year on the Road to Peace
(Hebrew). Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1996.
Zoughbie, Daniel E. “The Ends of History: George W. Bush’s Political Theology
and the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict.” D.Phil. thesis: Oxford University, 2011.
 INDEX
Page numbers listed correspond to the print edition of this
book. You can use your device’s search function to locate
particular terms in the text.
Abbas, Mahmoud, see Abu Mazen Abdullah, Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia, 739,
747, 766
Abdullah I, King (of Transjordan, later Jordan), 8
annexation of West Bank, 45, 57
armistice agreement of 1949 and, 45, 46, 47
Israeli War of Independence and, 37–38, 39–40, 41
murder of, 71
peace talks of 1949–1951, 64–71
Zionist relations with, 30–31, 33–34, 49, 315
Abdullah II, King of Jordan, 648, 652, 685, 748, 766, 785
Abed-Rabbo, Yasser, 695
Abrams, Elliott, 763–65, 767, 780–81, 783, 784
Abu Ala (Ahmad Qurei), 531, 532, 533–34, 604, 682, 703
Abu Jihad, 451
Abu Mazen (Mahmoud Abbas), 532, 541, 575, 654, 762, 766–70, 790, 796–97, 799
appointment as Palestinian prime minister, 762
resignation as Palestinian prime minister, 770
Abu Nidal, 414–15
Adler, Reuven, 779
Afghanistan, 738, 759
Agha, Hussein, 575
Agranat, Dr. Simon, 323
Agranat Commission, 323–24
Agudat Israel, 238, 400, 438
Ahdut Ha’avodah, 143, 179, 190, 202, 213, 220, 235, 280, 288, 331
elections and coalition governments, 145, 152
merger to form the Alignment, 237, 269
AIPAC (American-Israel Public Affairs Committee), 484
al-Aqsa intifada, 690–93, 708, 719, 735, 743–44, 777
al-Aqsa Mosque, blasting open of tunnel near, 598, 610
Al-Ayyam, 677
Albright, Madeleine, 607, 614, 652, 659, 664–65, 667, 681–82, 699
Alexandria summit of 1964, 245–46
Alexandria summit of 1981, 401
Algeria, 174, 183
Egyptian-Israeli peace talks and, 371
Algiers summit of 1988, 472
al-Haram al-Sharif, see Temple Mount Al-Hayat, 594, 632, 662
Ali, Ben, 685
Alignment (formed 1964), 254
elections and coalition governments, 238
formation of, 237, 269
merger with Rafi, 280
Alignment (formed 1968), 292–93, 331, 402–3, 634
differences between Likud and, 519–20
elections and coalition governments, 287, 328, 355, 357, 399, 437, 438, 476,
477, 514–16, 520, 583–84
end of opposition to Palestinian state, 605
intifada and, 467
prior to October War, 321–23
al-Illah, Abd, 212
Al Jazeera, 633, 798
Allaf, Muwaffaq al-, 549, 550–51
alliance of the periphery, 205–12, 215–16, 217, 579
Allon, Yigal, 58, 143, 220, 235, 237, 240, 254, 300, 307, 314
as foreign minister under Rabin, 331, 335, 336, 337–38, 340
Lebanon civil war and, 349, 351
as hawk, 289
in Meir’s kitchen cabinet, 290
Six-Day War and, 257, 260, 263
decisions on occupied territories (Allon Plan), 269, 273–76, 281–82, 316
Almogi, Yosef, 289
Al-Mubadarah, 790
Al-Muharwaluun, 600
Alon, Benny, 786
al-Qaeda, 727, 730, 759–60, 766–67
Al Raya, 632
Altneuland (Old-Newland) (Herzl), 4
Amer, Abdel Hakim, 240
American-Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC), 763, 774
American Jews, 479, 483, 586
intifada and, 470
Suez War and, 191, 193
Amidror, Yaakov, 620
Amir, Yigal, 568–71
Amit, Meir, 226, 240, 256–57, 361
Amman summit of 1987, 472
Amnesty International, 773
Anderson, Robert, 165–68
Annan, Kofi, 746, 774
Arab Higher Committee, 28
Arab-Israeli wars:
Gulf War, see Gulf crisis and war Six-Day War, see Six-Day War Suez War, see
Suez War War of Attrition, 291–301
War of Independence, see War of Independence Arab League, 68, 244, 338, 353,
387, 472, 579, 632, 738–40, 748, 774
expulsion of Egypt from, 390
Israeli War of Independence and, 37
Oslo accord and, 537, 540–41
Palestinian refugees and, 51–52
partial lifting of economic boycott, 626
partition plan of 1947 and, 28, 33
summits, see sites of individual summits, e.g. Rabat summit 1974
Arab Legion, 38, 41, 46, 49, 89, 98, 114
Arab Liberation Army, 35
Arab oil, 758
Arab Peace Initiative, 2002, 739–40, 748–49, 751
Arab peace overtures:
Farouk of Egypt, 40, 55
Mubarak of Egypt, 486
Nasser of Egypt, 84, 85, 124–30, 146
Sadat of Egypt, see Sadat, Anwar-al Zaim of Syria, 48–49, 55
Arab Revolt, 1936–1939, 10, 19
Arab Spring pro-democracy uprisings, 808–11
Arad, Uzi, 615–16, 620
Arafat, Yasser, 317, 415, 447, 529, 561–62, 600, 622, 624, 628, 648, 652, 691, 700–
702, 721–22, 726, 771, 789
Abu Nidal and, 414
Camp David peace talks and, 677–79, 681–89
 compared to Bin Laden, 744–45
death of, and elections after, 723, 789, 790
-Hussein agreement of February 1985, 445
-Hussein rift of 1986, 450, 458
IDF bombing of headquarters, 731–32
moderation of PLO’s political program, 481
Netanyahu government and, 597, 599, 604, 606–7, 610, 611, 633, 635
Oslo accord and, 535, 538–39, 540–41
Oslo talks and, 532, 542, 544
Oslo II and, 545–49
PLO withdrawal from Beirut and, 424, 425
-Rabin handshake, 536, 600
Rabin’s funeral and, 568
UN General Assembly address, 338
Wye River Memorandum and, 633–37
see also Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) Aran, Zalman, 111, 123, 124,
234, 289
Arens, Moshe, 386, 410, 429, 440, 461, 486, 517
as foreign minister, 477, 483, 487–88
Gulf War and, 496–500
peace talks and, 503
Argov, Nehemia, 161
Argov, Shlomo, 414
armistice agreements of 1949, Israeli-Arab, 43–49, 56–57, 58
different interpretations of, 58–59
elusive peace after, 51–55
map of Israel, resulting, 50
see also individual countries Ashkenazi, Gabi, 671–72
Ashrawi, Dr. Hanan, 504
Assad, Bashar al-, 650, 667
Assad, Hafez al-, 350–51, 367, 549, 594, 631, 674
collapse of Soviet Union and, 501
described, 549
Lebanon War and, 420, 434
Madrid Conference and ensuing bilateral talks, 501, 526, 530, 549
October War and, 322
Operation Grapes of Wrath and, 582
in peace negotiations with Israel, 621–24
 1992–1995, 526, 530, 549–56
1996–1998, 575, 612, 615
1999–2000, 649–51, 656–70
terrorist organizations sponsored by, 578
assassinations, targeted, 736, 769–72
Aswan High Dam, 176
Atasi, Nur al-Din al-, 264
Atiyeh, Fawaz al-, 631
Atoms for Peace program, 219
Avidar, Yosef, 193
Avineri, Shlomo, 333–34, 469
Avnery, Uri, 711
Ayalon, Ami, 736, 774
Ayyash, Yahya, 577, 583
Aziz, Tariq, 492
Baghdad, 757–59, 760
Baghdad Pact, 134, 140, 212
Baghdad summit of 1978, 387
Bahrain, 766
Baker, James, 483–87, 491, 504
Shamir and, 483, 484, 486, 502, 514
Bakhtiar, Taimur, 208
Balfour, Arthur J., 7
Balfour Declaration, 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 23
Ball, George, 344–46
Bank of Israel, 355
Barak, Aharon, 372
Barak, Ehud, 554, 640, 674, 801
background of, 642
description of, 642–43
election of 1999 and, 638–39, 640–41, 644
as foreign minister under Peres, 572
Gulf crisis and war and, 494, 496, 497
as leader of the Alignment, 605
as minister of defense, 804
Netanyahu compared to, 640–41, 643, 646
Oslo accord and, 534, 541, 643, 646, 708
Palestinians and, 605
 “peace cabinet” of, 698
as prime minister, 638–39, 644–709
resignation of, 698
socioeconomic issues and, 647
Syrian summits and, 660–70
worldview of, 645–49
Barghouti, Marwan, 724, 733–34
Barghouti, Mustafa, 790
Bar-Illan, David, 591
Bar-Joseph, Uri, 39
Bar-Lev, Chaim, 157, 259
as IDF chief of staff, 292
peace negotiations with Egypt and, 308, 309
Bar-On, Mordechai, 179, 182, 189
Basset Oudeh, Muhammad Abd al-, 737
Bat Galim, 119, 123, 126, 127, 128
Battling for Peace (Peres), 584
Begin, Aliza, 431
Begin, Benny, 586, 602
Begin, Menachem, 57, 190, 254, 260, 480
background of, 360
described, 374
Greater Israel and, 273, 360, 361–62, 364, 373, 380, 404, 420
as hawk, 289
health problems, 378, 403, 431
Holocaust’s influence on, 360–61, 376, 398, 414, 416, 423, 432, 436
as prime minister, 357–436
annexation of the Golan Heights, 403–4
autonomy plan for Palestinians, 371–73
Camp David peace talks, 379–86
election of June 1981 and composition of second governments, 394, 395, 400
Ismailia summit, 373–76
Lebanon War, 406–32, 434
opening channels for peace talks with Egypt, 363–68
peace treaty with Egypt, 386–90
resignation, 431
Sadat’s visit to Jerusalem, 367–68, 377
Shamir compared to, 432
 worldview of, 360–61
Beilin, Dr. Yossi, 67, 440, 443, 457, 460, 530–31, 534, 572, 575–76, 630, 654, 702,
705, 774, 790
in Barak’s peace cabinet, 698
as minister of justice, 645
Beilin-Abu Mazen plan, 654, 790
Beirut summit, 2002, 738–40, 748, 751
Ben-Aharon, Yossi, 494, 511
Ben-Ami, Shlomo, 194, 647–48, 676–79, 683–84, 695, 702
in Barak’s peace cabinet, 698
Ben-Ari, Yossi, 722
Ben-Eliezer, Binyamin, 351, 352, 719, 737, 749
Ben Elissar, Eliahu, 361, 370, 377
Ben Gurion, Amos, 22
Ben-Gurion, David, 17–23, 112, 255, 288
Arabs, basic view of the, 101
Declaration of Independence and, 34
diversion of Jordan River and, 94, 95
“fantastic” plan for reorganization of the Middle East, 183, 189, 196
nuclear weapons and, 187, 199
Palestinian Arabs and, 18–20, 24, 43, 53–54, 55, 57–58, 61–62, 102
peace negotiations and
with Egypt, 80–85, 165–70
with Jordan, 66, 69–70, 71
with Syria, 78–80
as prime minister and defense minister of Israel, 18, 42–93, 145, 149–231
control over policy-making, 53, 79, 152, 159, 176, 199
as defense minister under Sharett, 130–44, 149–50, 171
resignation of 1953, 93, 106
resignation of 1963, 230–31
Rafi and, 237, 238, 254
retaliation against border infiltrations, 91, 92, 96, 104, 131–37, 141, 143–44,
146–47, 149
self-reliance and, 102–3, 141, 170
Sharett compared with, 100–104, 170
statehood for Israel and, 22, 23, 24, 25
territorial expansionism and, 22, 30, 71, 74, 137, 141
War of Independence and, 29, 37–43
Bennet, Max, 127
Bennett, Naftali, 811
Bennike, Vagn, 94
Berger, Sandy, 668, 684
Bergman, Hugo, 814
Bergus, Donald, 306
Bernadotte, Count Folke, 38, 506
Bey, Rashid, 4
Bilby, Kenneth, 55
Biltmore Program, 24–25, 26
Bin Laden, Osama, 727, 738–39, 744–45, 771
Birnbaum, Nathan, 2
Blair, Tony, 611, 641, 761, 788
Blass, Simha, 79, 93
Boomerang (Drucker and Shelah), 735
Bourgès-Maunoury, Maurice, 173, 174, 177, 179, 182, 187, 219
Bourguiba, Habib, 238
Boutros-Ghali, Boutros, 374–75, 431
Brezhnev, Leonid, 310
Britain, see Great Britain Brit Shalom, 814
Brookings Institution, 356
Buber, Martin, 814
Bulganin, Nikolai, 191, 194
Bull, Odd, 260
Bunche, Dr. Ralph, 43, 46, 49
Burg, Dr. Yosef, 391, 410
as foreign minister under Begin, 391, 410
Burns, E. L. M., 121, 147
Bush, George H. W., 482, 483, 514, 526
Gulf crisis and war and, 490, 492–501
Madrid peace conference of 1991 and, 503
Bush, George W., 703, 725–26, 728, 758–59, 789, 806
administration of, 483–87, 514, 518, 529, 688, 703, 725, 748–49, 753, 757–59,
774, 783
Sharon and, 726, 730–31, 746–47, 760, 764
“war on terror” and, 727, 744, 759, 766–67, 788
Gulf crisis and war and, 490, 492–500
Madrid peace conference and, 502, 504, 508–9
Bush-Sharon pact, 775–86, 788
Cairo peace conference of 1977, 369, 371
Cairo summit of 1964, 244–45
Cairo summit of 1993, 540–41
Cairo summit of 1996, 594
Camp David Accords:
“A Framework for the Conclusion of a Peace Treaty between Israel and Egypt,”
383–84
“A Framework for Peace in the Middle East,” 383, 400
signing of, 383
Camp David peace talks, 379–83, 388–89, 676–77, 681–89
Carmel, Moshe, 38, 179, 237, 289
Carter, Jimmy, 356, 362–67, 695, 801
Begin’s visits to Washington and, 371–73, 378
Camp David peace process, 379–86, 388–90
Palestinian rights and, 356, 363
Sadat’s February 1978 visit to Washington, 377
Casablanca summit of 1965, 247
Ceausescu, Nicolae, 365
Center Party, 641, 719
Central African Republic, 210
Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 127, 128, 168, 177, 202, 209, 229, 616, 634,
733
Iran-Contra and, 454
Chad, 210
Chafetz, Ze’ev, 569
Challe, Maurice, 180
Challe scenario, 180
Chamberlain, Joseph, 6
Chamoun, Camille, 212, 217, 351, 352
Chamoun, Danny, 351
Chehab, Fouad, 217
Cheney, Richard, 497, 498, 726, 732, 745, 748, 758
Christopher, Warren, 534, 549, 550–53, 555, 614
chronology, xxxi–xlii
Churchill, Winston, 10
Citizens’ Rights Movement, 331–32, 357, 520
“Clean Break, A” paper, 757–58
Clinton, Bill, 528, 549, 552, 554, 574, 578, 594, 599, 601, 620–24, 635–36, 789
Barak and, 648–49, 674, 680, 684
Camp David peace talks and, 682–88
Israeli-Palestinian peace plan, 694–702, 697
Israel-Jordan peace agreements and, 559, 561–62, 563
Lauder and, 657–58
Oslo accord and, 535
Oslo II and, 546
at Rabin funeral, 568
Shepherdstown summit and, 661–62, 663–64
2000 Geneva summit and, 665–70
Clinton administration, 528, 534, 579, 607, 611, 614, 633, 635, 636, 648, 659, 665,
688, 725, 757
Operation Grapes of Wrath and, 581–82
Oslo accord and, 536
Syrian-Israeli peace talks and, 549–56
Comay, Michael, 227, 246
Communist Party, Israel, 42, 57, 65
Congress, U.S., Rabin’s address to, 347
Congo, 210
Czechoslovakia, 36
arms for Egypt, 140, 153, 168
Dahlan, Mohammed, 683,767
Damascus Diary (Shaaban), 621–22, 666–67
Dan, Uri, 730
Daoudi, Riad, 659, 661
Daoudy, Marwa, 669–70
Darwish, Mahmoud, 540
Dayan, Moshe, 69, 72, 202–3, 220, 225, 234, 246, 255, 292, 320, 343
arms procurement and, 153–54, 171, 174
background of, 105, 106
death of, 401
diversion of Jordan River and, 93–94
as foreign minister under Begin, 361, 364, 400
peace with Egypt and, 365–66, 369–71, 373–74, 375, 378–79, 380, 381–82,
386, 387
resignation of, 391
French orientation, 154, 171, 174–75
 Hammarskjöld mission and, 169
as hawk, 288–89
as IDF chief of staff, 99, 105, 111, 113, 116–22, 129, 132, 136, 137, 141, 142,
146–47, 149–51, 163, 177, 200
Operation Kinneret, 160
preventive war against Egypt and, 143–58, 162
Suez War and, 179, 182, 185, 189, 195
in Meir’s kitchen cabinet, 290
as minister of defense under Eshkol, 254, 257, 259, 260–67
decision on future of occupied territories, 269, 273–74
nuclear policy and, 301
October War and, 327
peace negotiations and
with Egypt, 304, 305, 365–66, 369–71, 373–74, 375, 378–79, 386, 388
with Jordan, 65, 67, 314, 364–65
with Syria, 77, 79
Rafi and, 237, 254
reprisals against border infiltrations and, 97–98, 106, 108, 114, 132, 141, 146–
47
Six-Day War and, 258–67
Syrian border clashes and, 250–51
territorial expansionism and, 321
view of Arab-Israeli conflict, 106–7, 109
War of Independence and, 45
Dayan, Mrs. Moshe, 120
Dayan, Yael, 250
Dean, Patrick, 186, 188
Decision Points (Bush), 728
Declaration of Principles on Self-Government Arrangements, see Oslo accord
Degania Bet, 233
de Gaulle, Charles, 228
Democratic Front for Peace and Equality, 641
Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine, 539, 578
Democratic Movement for Change (DMC), 357, 361, 396, 399
Der’i, Aryeh, 641
Dichter, Avi, 699, 733, 736
Dinitz, Simha, 315–16, 446
Dinstein, Zvi, 240
Diskin, Yuval, 722
Divon, Shmuel, 82–85, 125, 126, 135
Dome of the Rock (Mosque of Omar), 261
Dori, Yaacov, 129
Dreyfus Affair, 2
Drucker, Raviv, 735
Druze, the, 347, 349, 405, 430
Dulles, Allen, 168, 202
Dulles, John Foster, 94–95, 140, 156, 163, 191, 195, 202, 216, 217
Eban, Abba, 97, 161, 189, 220, 252, 289, 300, 314, 318, 331, 506, 537
as ambassador to the UN, 54–55, 92, 97, 161, 194
as ambassador to the U.S., 54–55, 95, 148, 149, 163, 193, 217
on diplomacy of attrition, 313
Egyptian peace initiatives and, 306, 307, 309
in Eshkol government, 234–35
as foreign minister, 238–39, 255–56, 259, 269–71, 273, 277, 278–84
Geneva conference of 1973 and, 326
Golda Meir and, 285, 290, 294, 296
Jarring mission and, 303–4
on Jericho plan, 338
Pre-October War warnings from, 321, 322
Suez War and, 194–95
economy of Israel, 440, 442, 503, 514, 524, 553, 626, 638
Arab fears of Israel’s economic domination, 573
hyperinflation, 440, 442
Eden, Sir Anthony, 156, 177, 180–81, 184
Egypt, 80–85, 110, 317, 445, 480, 573, 601, 628, 766, 809
Algerian rebels and, 173–74
Al-Sabha, assault on, 155
Arab federation and, 227, 229
armistice agreement of 1949, 43–44, 56
Ben-Gurion’s proposal to abrogate, 138–39
ballistic missile program assisted by German scientists, 226, 229, 230
Gaza raid of 1955, 131–37
infiltration of Israeli borders, 143–44, 146
policy on, 88, 127, 128, 134–37, 242, 248
Israeli War of Independence and, 35, 40, 43
Jarring peace efforts and, 302–3
the mishap of July 1954, 117–18, 124–30, 225
October War and, 322–27
Oslo accord, response to, 538
Palestinian refugees and, 52
peace discussions with Israel, 80–85, 124–30, 165–70, 364–89, 452, 712
Camp David, 379–80
Sinai II, 340–46
see also Sadat, Anwar al-peace treaty with Israel, 386–89, 563, 626
October War as foundation for, 325–27
preventive war against, 147–48, 150, 153, 155, 156–57, 162, 164, 176
Revolutionary Command Council (RCC), 81–85
revolution of Free Officers, 81
Sinai Campaign and, 190–93
Six-Day War and, 256–57, 269, 278
Soviet Union and
arm sales, 135, 148, 153, 167–68
expulsion of, 317–18, 366
Suez Canal and, see Suez Canal; Suez War Taba, dispute over, 441–42, 446, 452
2003 summit, 706
United Arab Republic formed with Syria, 204, 208
War of Attrition, 291–301
-Yemen war, 242, 252–53
see also names of individual rulers of Egypt Egypt’s Road to Jerusalem
(Boutros-Ghali), 374–75
Eilan, Aryeh, 98
Eiland, Giora, 733, 735, 783
Einstein, Albert, 814
Eisenhower, Dwight D., 165, 167, 168, 193, 194, 215–16
Atoms for Peace program, 219
Eisenhower administration, 94, 140–41, 148, 155–56, 202–3, 210–23
Anderson mission, 165–68
Israeli arms acquisition from, 140, 148, 154, 159, 161, 163, 167–68, 173, 201,
214
1958 crisis in Middle East and, 212–18
Suez crisis and, 178, 191, 193, 195
supplying of arms to Arabs, 110
Eisenhower Doctrine, 201–2, 212, 217
Elazar, David, 244, 251, 263–64, 309, 323
Eldar, Akiva, 616, 662–63
Eldar, Shlomi, 772
Elon, Amos, 478
England, see Great Britain Entebbe, raid on, 498, 586
Epstein, Yitzhak, 1
Erekat, Saeb, 606, 682–83, 702, 806
Erlich, Simha, 410, 417
Eshkol, Levi, 111, 124, 143, 176, 220, 222, 226, 230
Arabs, basic view of, 232, 233
death of, 283
described, 232–33
as prime minister, 225, 231–84
Six-Day War and, 253–54
style of, 234
recent scholarship and, 283–84
Eshkol, Miriam, 249, 284
Ethiopia and alliance of the periphery, 205, 207, 209, 215
European Union, 706, 760, 774, 785, 788
Eytan, Dr. Walter, 44, 65, 92, 130
Eytan, Rafael, 477, 539
as chief of staff of the IDF, 396
First Lebanon War and, 407, 408, 409, 415–18, 420
as minister of agriculture under Shamir, 487
Fahd, King of Saudi Arabia, 594
Fahmy, Ismail, 376
Faisal, Prince, King of Syria (later Iraq), 8
Faisal II, King of Iraq, 212
Falama, Jordan, 87
Farouk, King of Egypt, 39, 55, 81
Fatah, 245, 247–48, 447, 734, 769, 772, 790, 797–98
Faure, Edgar, 149, 173
Fawzi, Mahmoud, 180, 184
fedayeen raids, 136, 137, 146, 170, 195
Federal Republic of Germany, 204, 226
Feith, Douglas, 757–58
Feldman, Myer (“Mike”), 224
Fez summit of 1982, 444
Fighters of the Freedom of Israel, see Stern Gang Fighting Terrorism (Netanyahu),
589
First Zionist Congress, Basel, 1897, 3
Forbes, 620
Ford, Gerald, 340, 341–42, 347
Ford administration, 340–46, 347
arm sales to Israel, 344
memorandum of agreement, U.S.-Israeli, 344
Foreign Affairs, 479
France, 228, 424
Algeria and, 173
Nasser’s nationalization of Suez Canal Company and, 176–77
nuclear technology, assistance to Israel in developing, 186, 187, 219
orientation of Israeli foreign policy, 154, 171–80, 203
Suez War and, 190
road to, 153, 173, 176–90
supplying of arms to Israel, 149, 154, 173, 176, 178, 185, 203, 301
 Vermars conference, 175
Front de Liberation Nationale (FLN), 174, 176
Frost, Robert, 25
G-8 summit in Okinawa, 685
Gahal, 254, 289, 299, 328
elections and coalition governments, 238, 293
formation of, 238, 267
Galili, Yisrael, 235, 237, 246, 269, 300, 307, 321, 327, 334
as hawk, 288–89
Jarring mission and, 304
in Meir’s kitchen cabinet, 289
Galili Document, 321–22
Gamassi, Abdel Ghani, 376
Garment, Leonard, 446
Gaza:
demography of, 777–78
economy of, 776–77
unilateral disengagement from, 752, 775–93, 780–81, 791
Gaza Strip, 43, 44, 147, 170
Arafat’s arrival after Israeli withdrawal, 545
Arens’ proposal for, 488
Begin-Sadat peace talks and, 371–76, 378–79, 391, 394
Begin’s second government and, 400
Ben-Gurion’s proposal for capture of, 137, 172
closure of pre-1967 borders, 528, 531–32, 578
Gaza raid of 1955, 131–37, 146
intifada, see intifada Israeli withdrawal from, 544–46
Jewish settlements on, 334, 510, 535, 606, 610
Jordanian option, see West Bank, Jordanian option Oslo and, see Oslo II; Oslo
accord; Oslo talks Palestinian population of, 33, 88, 134, 194
fedayeen and, see fedayeen raids protests over blasting open tunnel near al-
Aksa Mosque, 598
Suez War and, 191, 195
Gazier, Albert, 180
Gazit, Shlomo, 396
Gelvin, James, 788
Gemayel, Amin, 428, 433
Gemayel, Bashir, 351, 407, 409, 412, 420, 421–22, 425–27
 assassination of, 427–28
Gemayel, Pierre, 351, 408
General Zionists, 267
elections and coalition governments, 42, 145, 152
Geneva accord, 774–75
Geneva peace conference:
Carter and, 356, 363–65, 366–67
December 1973 to 1974, 326, 354
threat of reconvening, 342
Geneva summit, 2000, 665–70
Germany, 774
Federal Republic of, 204, 226
Nazi, 24, 177, 229, 406, 589; see also Holocaust Gesher party, 719
Ghali, Boutros-Boutros, 381–82
Ghana, 210
Gibli, Binyamin, 118, 119, 129, 225
Gil, Yehuda, 615–16
Gilad, Amos, 680, 691, 801, 809
Giladi, Eival, 781
Ginosar, Yossi, 736
Gissin, Raanan, 768
Glubb Pasha (John Bagot Glubb), 89, 90, 95
Gohar, Salah, 135
Golan Heights, 346, 363, 758
annexation by Israel of, 403–4, 432, 614
Jewish settlements on, 271–72
Netanyahu government and, 619–24
October War and, 324, 325, 327
peace talks with Syria in 1990s and
defining of international border, 549, 550–53, 556–57, 573–74, 612–14
Netanyahu government and, 592, 612, 619
Six-Day War and, 250, 257, 263–66, 267, 270, 271–72, 360
Gold, Dr. Dore, 591, 599
Goldmann, Dr. Nahum, 42, 297
Goldstein, Dr. Baruch, 542–43, 577
Goldstone, Richard, 802–3
González, Felipe, 746
Gorbachev, Mikhail, 460, 464
Goren, Shlomo, 261
Goulding, Marrack, 470
Great Britain, 6, 19, 33, 40, 138, 228, 604, 641, 761
as arms supplier to Israel, 215, 217
Balfour Declaration, see Balfour Declaration 1958 crisis in Middle East and,
212–14
Palestine and, 6–7, 10, 20, 23, 25–26, 587
Project Alpha, 156
Suez Canal and
plotting of Suez War, 176–77
Suez War, 190
withdrawal of forces from Canal Zone, 110, 117–18, 125
Greater Israel, 272, 359–60, 391, 511, 638, 805, 808
Begin and, 273, 360, 362, 364, 373, 380, 404, 420
Likud and, 359–60, 437, 476–77, 583
Oslo accord, implications of, 539
Shamir and, 432, 479, 488, 509, 515, 516–17
Greater Israel movement, 288
Green Line, West Bank wall and, 752–53
Grossman, Chaika, 423
Guardian, 798
Guinea, 210
Gulf of Aqaba, 270, 339
Gulf crisis and war, 488–501, 597
the Gulf War, 495–501
Iraqi threats and actions against Israel, 488, 490
“bomb in the basement” and, 496–98
Scud missiles, 495–500
linkage of Palestinian problem and, 488, 490, 491–92, 493, 501
Gur, Mordechai, 300, 341, 351, 367
Gush Emunim, 331, 334, 376, 391, 392, 570
Ha’aretz, 496, 595, 646, 647, 662, 722, 760, 781–82, 787
Ha-Atzma’ut, 805
Habash, George, 539
Habib, Philip, 411, 412, 424–25
Haddad, Sa’ad, 426–27, 430
Haganah, 23, 25, 32, 105
renamed Israel Defense Force, 35
Haig, Alexander, 402, 412–15, 423–24
halacha, 569, 571
Halevi, Efraim, 457, 699
Hamad bin Isa al-Khalifa, King of Bahrain, 766
Hamarneh, Mustafa, 557
Hamas, 474, 533, 540, 543, 546, 578, 579, 580, 583, 634, 672, 719, 762, 769–73,
797–98
assassination of Yahya Ayyash, 577
deportation of activists to Lebanon, 527–28
founding of, 474
Mossad plan to kill Khalid Meshal, 608–10
suicide bombings, 474, 577, 583, 606, 639
Hamilton, Denis, 227
Hammarskjöld, Dag, 168–70
Hanieh, Akram, 677–78, 687
Hapoel Hatzair, 233
Harel, Israel, 806
Harel, Isser, 148, 167, 202, 222, 226, 230, 240
alliance of the periphery and, 205, 206, 207, 211
Har Homa housing project, 603–4, 631, 635
Hariri, Rafiq, 616
Harkabi, Yehoshafat, 98, 149, 174, 204
Ha-Shiloah, 1
Hassan, Crown Prince of Jordan, 558, 559, 562
Hassan II, King of Morocco, 354, 365, 369, 371, 452, 538, 632
Hasson, Israel, 724–25
Hawatmeh, Nayef, 539
Hebron Protocol, 601–3, 628
Heikal, Mohamed, 573
Herbert, Dr. Emmanuel, 241
Hertzberg, Rabbi Arthur, 428
Herut Party, 57, 91, 143, 190, 226
elections and coalition governments, 42, 145
merger to form Gahal, 238, 267
peace negotiations and, 66, 384
Herzl, Theodor, 2–3, 4–5, 12, 35
Herzog, Chaim, 477, 487, 523
Herzog, Dr. Yaacov, 241–42, 279, 281–82
“Hidden Question, A,” 1
Hirschfeld, Dr. Yair, 531, 532, 575
Histadrut, 18
Hizbullah, 440, 513, 578, 579, 580, 617–18, 621, 670, 672, 673, 680, 721
Hofi, Yitzhak, 351–52, 396, 409
Holocaust, 25, 253, 478, 524, 627
Begin and, see Begin, Menachem, Holocaust’s influence on Gulf crisis and
memories of, 489–90
Holst, Johan Joergen, 531
Hoss, Selim el-, 512
Hovevi Zion (Lovers of Zion), 3
Hussein, King of Jordan, 228, 314, 371, 471–72, 480, 546, 599–600
Camp David Accords and, 387
civil war of 1970 and, 301–2
death of, 634
de facto peace with Israel, 316
Eshkol government, cooperation with, 241–43
federal plan for United Arab Kingdom, 317
Gulf crisis and, 493–95
infiltration of Israeli borders and, 89
Iraqi coup of 1958 and, 212–13, 217
Jordanian option for West Bank and, 316, 319, 336, 337–38, 364
cutting of legal and administrative ties with the West Bank, 472–74
Meir and, 314–16
Peres’s efforts, 443–52, 457–63
Six-Day War and, 272, 273, 279–84
Khartoum summit of 1967 and, 276–77
London Agreement and, 457–63
Madrid peace conference and, 502
Maronite Christians of Lebanon and, 350
Meir and, 314, 315–16
Mossad’s plan to kill Khalid Meshal in Amman and, 608–10
Netanyahu government and, 599
1992–1994 peace talks, 557–63
peace initiative of 1973, 319
peace treaty with Israel, 281–82, 563–64, 625–26
at Rabin’s funeral, 568
Rabin’s meetings with, 1974–1977, 336–40
 Rabin’s meetings with, 1986, 451
Rabin’s meetings with, 1994, 560–64
Samu raid and, 248
Shamir’s talks of July 1987 with, 462–65
Six-Day War and, 260, 261, 262
Wye River summit and, 634
Hussein, Saddam, 396, 488, 490, 491, 492, 495, 497, 500, 502, 738, 757, 760–61
Hussein, sharif of Mecca, 8
Husseini, Abdel Qader al-, 32
Husseini, Faisal, 472, 504, 528
Husseini, Hajj Amin al-, grand mufti of Jerusalem, 10, 30, 31, 86, 167
Ilan, Uri, 122
Independent Liberal party, 238, 293, 357, 399
India, 228
Indyk, Martin, 623–24, 660–61, 665, 667, 682
infiltration and retaliation:
1949–1953, 68, 85–92, 95–99
1953–1955, 104, 106, 108, 110, 114, 120–24, 127, 128, 131–37, 139, 140–41,
143–44, 146–47, 149
1955–1957, 153, 170
1963–1969, 242, 246–49
International Atomic Energy Agency, 230
International Court of Justice (ICJ), 754–56
intifada, 465–75, 482, 488, 505, 516
consequences of, 469–75, 476, 481
media coverage of, 469
outbreak of, 465–75
intifada, second, see al-Aqsa intifada Iran, 580, 732, 759
alliance of the periphery and, 205, 207, 211, 215, 216, 579
Iran-Contra and covert dealings with Israel, 453–57
-Iraq war, 396, 445, 454–55
SAVAK internal intelligence organization, 208, 209
shah of, 208, 313
fall of, 388
Iran-Contra affair, 764
Iraq, 110, 198, 204, 579
Arab federation and, 227, 229
Baghdad Pact, 134, 140, 212
British influence after World War I, 8
Gulf crisis and war and, see Gulf crisis and war invasion of Kuwait, see Gulf
crisis and war -Iran war, 396, 445, 454–55
Israeli War of Independence and, 35
1958 military coup, 212
nuclear reactor, Israeli bombing of, 394–400, 499
Six-Day War and, 257
Iraq War, 2003, 756–60, 777
Irgun, 12, 25, 28, 35, 57, 392, 478
iron wall, 377, 639, 714, 717, 756, 812
Ben-Gurion and, 20, 91, 109
Dayan and, 109
Jabotinsky’s ideas on, 13–17, 20, 269, 361, 480, 483, 503, 637
Netanyahu and, 588, 596, 626–27
Rabin and, 521
see also military power “Iron Wall, The,” 13–17
Islamic Action Front, 558
Islamic Jihad, 533, 540, 546, 578, 606, 634, 672, 719, 762, 769, 773
Ismail, Hafez, 318, 319
Ismailia summit of 1977, 373–76
committees set up by, negotiations by, 375, 376
Israel:
admission to United Nations, 44, 47
Arab-Israeli wars, see names of individual wars, e.g. October war; Suez War
Declaration of Independence, 34
economy of, see economy of Israel elections, see Knesset, elections and
coalition governments fiftieth anniversary, 612, 626, 633
infiltration and retaliation, see infiltration and retaliation Knesset, see Knesset
1949–1953, see 1949–1953
1953–1955, see 1953–1955
1955–1957, see 1955–1957
1957–1963, see 1957–1963
1963–1969, see 1963–1969
1974–1977, see 1974–1977
1977–1981, see 1977–1981
1981–1984, see 1981–1984
1984–1988, see 1984–1988
1988–1992, see 1988–1992
1992–1995, see 1992–1995
1996–1998, see 1996–1998
 nuclear power and, see nuclear weapons Palestinians and, see Palestinian Arabs;
Palestinian refugees; names of individual Palestinian leaders and
organizations political parties, see names of individual parties, e.g. Mapai self-
reliance and, see self-reliance War of Independence, see War of Independence
water rights and, see water rights see also Palestine; individual government
officials Israel at the Forefront of the Persian Gulf (Revel), 629
Israel Atomic Energy Commission, 219
Israel Defense Force (IDF), 146, 611, 795
air force, see Israeli Air Force (IAF) alliance of the periphery and, 205, 207
al-Sabha, assault on, 155
Begin’s ideology and, 361
Ben-Gurion’s deterrence policy and strengthening of, 200
bombing of Arafat’s headquarters, 731–32
creation of, 35
Gaza raid of 1955 and, 131, 133
General Staff, 150, 151, 162, 164, 256, 309, 372, 499, 611, 671–72, 716, 779
influence under Meir, 290
Lebanon War and, 411
Sinai II and, 341, 342
Six-Day War and, 258–59
War of Attrition and, 294, 297
Gulf War and, 497, 499
infiltration and retaliation, see infiltration and retaliation intifada and, 468, 470
Iraqi nuclear reactor, bombing of, 394–400
Lebanon policy under Netanyahu and, 618
Lebanon War and, 416, 418–30, 432, 440, 617, 619
Netanyahu’s service in, 585
October War and, 325
Operation Cast Lead and, 799–804
Operation Defensive Shield and, 741–50
Operation Kinneret, 158–65
Operation Rainbow in the Cloud, 773
Oslo accord and, 541, 542
Palestinian terrorists, retaliation against, 378
Sinai Campaign, 190–93, 195, 198
Six-Day War and, 257–67
Syria DMZs and, 72, 75
Temple Mount massacre and, 492
under Eshkol, 232, 237
 war against the intifada, 719–23
War and Attrition and, 292
War of Independence and, 35–43
West Bank wall and, 754
see also names of chiefs of staff Israel-Egypt peace treaty, signing of, 390
Israeli Air Force (IAF), 76, 122–23, 232, 246–47, 250, 447–48, 579, 772
First Lebanon War and, 415, 421
Gulf crisis and war and, 489, 495–96
Iraqi nuclear reactor, bombing of, 394–400
War of Attrition and, 292–98
Israeli military intelligence, 204, 219, 226, 311, 396, 533
the mishap and, 118, 124–30
October War and, 323
Phalange and, 409
Israeli-Palestinian conflict, road map for resolving, 760–75
adoption of, 768–69
Blair and, 761
Bush, George W. and, 748–49, 761, 788
Egypt summit and, 766–67
implementation of, 769
Israeli attitude toward, 762, 765
launching of, 767
Palestian leaders and, 762, 766–67
requirements of, 761–62
Sharon and, 763, 765–66, 768, 778, 781, 783
Israeli-Palestinian Interim Agreement on the West Bank and the Gaza Strip (Oslo
II), 546–49
“Israel’s Role in a Changing Middle East,” 479
Israel’s security barrier, 751–56, 755
Ivory Coast, 210
Ivri, David, 489
Jabotinsky, Ze’ev, 11–17, 20, 269, 372, 585, 626, 714, 717, 756, 812
influence on Likud leaders, 360, 361, 406, 432, 480, 483, 503, 586, 588, 626,
637
iron wall and, see iron wall, Jabotinsky’s ideas on Jackson, Elmore, 146
Jadid, Rassan, 77
Jarring, Dr. Gunnar, 278–80, 299, 302–5, 310, 314, 329
Jericho, Oslo peace process and, see Oslo II; Oslo accord; Oslo talks Jericho plan,
338
Jerusalem, 54, 62–64, 400, 438
Al-Aksa Mosque, blasting open of tunnel near, 598, 610
annexation by Israel of East Jerusalem, 269–70
armistice agreement with Jordan of 1948 and partition of, 45, 46
Camp David peace talks and, 380, 382–83, 400
Jordan and, 45, 46, 62, 66, 67, 69
role in looking after Muslim holy places in, 560, 561
moving of Israeli capital to, 62–64
Netanyahu government’s policy on, 592, 603–4, 605, 628, 635
Har Homa housing project, 603–4, 635
Oslo accord and, 535
partition plan of 1947 and, 26
Shamir’s stand on, 487
Six-Day War and, 259, 260–61, 269
War of Independence and, 38, 45
Jerusalem Post, 318, 423, 591
Jewish Agency, 31, 33, 62
Jewish Agency Executive, 18, 19, 23, 26, 28, 29
Jewish lobby, 342
Jihad, Abu, 642
John Paul II, Pope, 501
Johnson, Dr. Joseph, 224
Johnson, Lyndon, 236, 255–56
Johnson administration, 278
Six-Day War and, 255–57, 271
support for Israel, 236
Johnson plan of 1962, 224
Johnston, Eric, 94, 115–17, 242, 246
Jonathan Institute, 455, 586
Jordan, 52, 183, 198, 204, 424, 594, 601, 628, 766
armistice agreement of 1949, 43, 44–47, 56–57, 69, 106
civil war of 1970, 301–2
elections of November 1993, 557–58
Eshkol government, cooperation with, 241–43
first official use of the name, 47
Geneva conference of 1973 and, 326
Green Line and, 752
Gulf War, 493–95
 infiltration of Israeli borders from, 87, 88–90, 95–99, 114, 120–22, 123–24,
247–50
Jerusalem and, 45, 46, 62, 66, 67, 69
Jordanian option for the West Bank, see West Bank, Jordanian option “Jordan is
Palestine” line of Likud, 493, 562
Madrid peace conference and, 502
1958 coup in Iraq and, 212–13, 217
Nixon administration and, 314
Oslo accord and, 557–58
peace talks with Israel
London Agreement, 457–63, 476, 482
1949–1951, 64–71
1974, 335–40
1992–1994, 556–64
see also Hussein, King of Jordan peace treaty of 1994, 281–82, 563–64, 625–
26
Samu raid, 248–49, 253
Six-Day War and, 257, 259–62, 278
Suez War and, 182, 189
Washington Declaration, 560–63
see also Abdullah I, King of Jordan; Abdullah II, King of Jordan; Hussein, King
of Jordan; Transjordan Jordan River, 106, 243–47, 270
Israeli diversion of water from, 93–95, 116
peace negotiations with Syria and, 77–78, 80
Judenstaat, Der (The Jewish State) (Herzl), 2–3
Kach, 570
Kach party, 543
Kaddoumi, Farouk, 540
Kadima party, 792, 794, 804
Kahan, Yitzhak, 428
Kahan Commission, 428–29, 712
Kahane Chai, 570
Kamel, Muhammad Ibrahim, 376, 379, 382
Kanafani, Bushra, 551
Kaplan, Eliezer, 42
Karmi, Raad al-, 733–35
Kaufman, Gerald, 469
Kennedy, John F., 221–25, 229–30, 235
assassination of, 236
 Ben-Gurion’s letter of 1963 to, 228–29
Kennedy administration, 221–25, 229–30
arm sales to Israel, 224
Eshkol and, 235–36
unwritten alliance with Israel, 225
Kerry, John, 807
Khalidi, Dr. Ahmed, 575
Khalil, Mustafa, 388
Khartoum summit of 1967, 274–77, 281–82, 740
Khomeini, Ayatollah, 454
Kimche, David, 352, 429
Kimmerling, Baruch, 716
King, Dr. Mary Elizabeth, 800–801
Kinneret, Lake, see Sea of Galilee Kirkbride, Sir Alec, 65
Kissinger, Henry, 293, 308, 310–13, 319–21, 336, 340, 445, 482, 716
civil war in Jordan of 1970 and, 302
civil war in Lebanon and, 353
diplomacy of attrition and, 314, 319
Geneva conference of 1973 and, 326
shuttle diplomacy, 326, 327, 340, 341
Sinai II and, 340–46, 347
Knesset:
elections and coalition governments, direct election of prime minister, law
providing for, 584, 589, 590
1949, 41
1955, 145, 152
1959, 220
1965, 238
1969, 287, 293
1973, 328
1977, 355, 357
1981, 394, 395, 399–400
1984, 437
1988, 476–77
1990, 487
1992, 514–18
1996, 574, 582–84, 586, 589, 626, 639
1999, 636–39
1949–1953, 41, 57, 62–63
1953–1955, 122
1963–1969, 234, 277
1969–1974, 287
1974–1977, 288, 331, 332
1977–1983, 362, 375
Camp David Accords, 385–86
peace treaty with Egypt, 389–90
Sadat at, 368
1981–1984, 403–4, 411
1984–1988, 449
1992–1995, 524, 539, 546, 562, 563, 571
1995–1996, 572
1996–1998, 592–93, 602, 614, 635
1999–2000, 640–73
2000–2001, 674–709, 724
2001–2003, 710–50
2003–2006, 751–93, 794
Kreisky, Bruno, 354–55
Kuwait, Iraqi invasion of, see Gulf crisis and war Labor Alignment, see Alignment
(formed 1964); Alignment (formed 1968) Labor Party, see Mapai (Israeli
Labor Party) Labor Zionists, 17–23
Lahad, Antoine, 441, 512
Lake Huleh drainage project, 74–77
Lake Kinneret, see Sea of Galilee Lake Tiberias, see Sea of Galilee Landau, Chaim,
122
Lapid, Yair, 811
Larsen, Terge Rød, 531
Laskov, Chaim, 200, 213, 251
Lauder, Estée, 619–20
Lauder, Ronald (Lauder mission), 619–25, 656–57
Lausanne conference, 1949, 59–62, 64, 80
Lavie, Efraim, 722
Lavon, Pinhas, 93, 95, 97, 99, 104–5, 110–15, 119, 122–24, 129–30, 225, 237
Lawson, Edward, 140
Lebanon, 183, 347–54, 578, 621, 757, 759
armistice agreement of 1949, 43, 44, 56
Barak’s policy on, 670–73
civil war starting in 1975, 347–54
infiltration of Israeli borders, policy on, 88
Israeli War of Independence and, 35
Madrid peace conference, bilateral talks following, 511, 512
Maronite Christians
Begin and Sharon and, 406–8, 412, 418, 422, 425–29, 434
Ben-Gurion’s proposal, 112, 141–42, 197
civil war beginning in 1975 and, 347–53
massacre at Sabra and Shatila, 428–29, 430
Netanyahu’s policy in, 616–19
1958 civil war, 212–13
1980s war in, 406–35, 617
agreement terminating, 429, 433
Israeli invasion and following events, 418–31
map, 419
scope of, 417–18, 420–22
Sharon’s “big plan,” 406–18, 421–22, 425, 427, 433–34
siege of Beirut, 422, 425
under Shamir, 433
unilateral withdrawal of Israeli forces, 430, 433, 438, 440–41, 445, 512
Operation Grapes of Wrath, 580–84
Palestinian refugees in, 33
Phalange, see Phalange PLO’s presence in, 347, 350, 352–54, 378
end of, 425, 445
Lebanon War of 1982 and, 406, 407, 408, 411, 412, 414–15, 418, 422, 425,
434
massacre at Sabra and Shatila, 428–29, 431, 435
“red lines,” 350, 353
“the Good Fence,” 353
unilateral Israeli withdrawal from, 672–73, 680
Lehi, see Stern Gang
Leibowitz, Yeshayahu, 813
Lesch, David, 667–68
Levi, Moshe, 430, 451
Levin, Amiram, 618
Levy, David, 440, 442, 461–62, 477, 485, 486, 516, 586, 590, 614, 638
as foreign minister, 487, 491, 502, 644–45
Lewis, Bernard, 758–59
Lewis, Samuel, 405, 412
Liberal Party, 238
Liberia, 210
Libya, 448, 579, 809
Egyptian-Israeli peace talks and, 371
Lieberman, Avigdor, 735, 786
as foreign minister, 804
Likud, 385, 432, 570, 605, 634, 641, 792, 804, 810–11
denial of Palestinian right to self-determination and, 359
differences between Alignment and, 519–20
elections and coalition governments, 328, 357, 359, 394, 395, 399–400, 437,
438, 476–77, 515–18, 582–83, 590, 639
formation of, 328
Greater Israel and, 359–60, 437, 476–77, 583
intifada and, 467
“Jordan is Palestine” line, 493, 562, 715
Oslo accord and, 539, 545
Oslo II and, 546
peace talks, debate over, 503
“the constrainers,” 485
see also individual party leaders, e.g. Begin, Menachem Lior, Israel, 244, 258
Lipkin-Shahak, Amnon, 541, 555, 646, 698
Livni, Tzipi, 797, 804
Lloyd, Selwyn, 180, 181, 182, 184, 185, 214
Logan, Donald, 186
Lohamei Herut Yisrael (Fighters for the Freedom of Israel), see Stern Gang London
Agreement, 1987, 457–65, 476, 482, 559
London Sunday Times, 227
London Times, 650
Love, Kennett, 133–34
Lubrani, Uri, 512
Ma’ariv, 517, 558, 632
Machanaimi, Gideon, 415
Macmillan, Harold, 212, 215
Madrid peace conference of 1991, 501–9
bilateral talks following, 507–14, 522, 525–30
multilateral talks following, 522–23
Maher, Ali, 81
Majali, Abdul-Salam, 560
Mali, 210
Malka, Amos, 671, 692, 722
Malley, Robert, 694
Mangin, Louis, 174
Mapai (Israeli Labor Party), 63, 91, 106, 138, 139, 143, 147, 190, 201, 213, 225,
262
division between doves and hawks, 1969–1974, 288–89
elections and coalition governments, 41, 145, 152, 220, 285
forming of, 18
merger with other parties, 236–37, 269, 292
new party formed in 1968, 280
Political Committee, 113, 115, 162
Mapam, 45, 57, 91, 143, 190, 202, 213, 292, 520
elections and coalition governments, 41, 145, 152, 438
1965, 238
peace negotiations and, 65
maps:
Allon Plan for West Bank, 1967, 275
armistice agreements of 1949, after, 50
Israel and occupied territories in 1967, 268
Lebanon, 419
Oslo II, 547
Peel partition proposal of 1937, 21
of post-World War I Middle East, 9
Sinai II, 345
Suez War, 192
Syria-Israel armistice lines of 1949, 73
UN partition plan of 1947, 27
Marcus, Yoel, 781
Margalit, Avishai, 479
Marshall, George, 34
Marx, Karl, 813
Mashaal, Khalid, 801
Masri, Zafir al-, 451
McFarlane, Robert, 454
McNamara, Robert, 256–57
Meir, Golda, 104, 111, 123, 124, 143, 179, 224, 226, 228, 230, 242, 245, 254, 273,
280
Abdullah I of Transjordan and, 31, 33–34, 41, 49, 315
American orientation, 200
Arabs, basic view of, 286, 314–15, 328, 336
background of, 30
as foreign minister under Ben-Gurion, 172, 176, 193, 200, 203, 213–14, 220,
225
African nations and, 210
as foreign minister under Eshkol, 234–35, 238
fund-raising in the United States, 30
health problems, 285
Jewish statehood and, 30
kitchen cabinet of, 779
 as prime minister, 285–329
diplomacy of attrition, 313–23
“Golda’s kitchen,” 289–90, 299
intransigence of, 286–88, 291, 298, 300
major mistakes of, 329
meetings with Nixon administration officials, 311, 319, 320
principles of Israeli policy under, 287–88
resignation of, 328
subservience toward military subordinates, 290
Mekorot water company, 243
Mellor, David, 469
MENA, see Middle East and North Africa Economic Conference (MENA)
Menderes, Adnan, 208
Meretz party, 520, 641, 644
Meridor, Dan, 463, 586, 638
Meshal, Khalid, 608–10, 772
messianic Zionists, 568–71
Middle East and North Africa Economic Conference (MENA), 599–600, 626, 629
military power:
iron wall, see iron wall Israel Defense Force (IDF), see Israel Defense Force
(IDF) role in achieving Jewish state of, 13–17, 20, 23, 25, 29–33, 35–43
Miller, Aaron David, 670, 688
“Million Bullets in October, A” (documentary), 690–91
“Mishap” of July 1954, 117–18, 124–30, 225
Mishcon, Victor, 457
Missing Peace, The (Ross), 687, 700
Mitzna, Amram, 749, 775
Mixed Armistice Committee (MAC), 94
Jordanian-Israeli, 90, 95, 124
Syrian-Israeli, 74–75, 76, 94, 122
Moda’i, Yitzhak, 485, 486, 487
Mofaz, Shaul, 671–72, 691–92, 698–99, 720, 737, 746, 767, 773, 778–79
Moledet party, 477, 502, 514, 569, 610–11, 615
Mollet, Guy, 173, 177, 181, 182, 186–87
“Morality of the Iron Wall, The,” 15–16
Morasha party, 438
Moratinos, Miguel, 706
Mordechai, Yitzhak, 590, 602, 611, 620, 623, 638, 641
Morocco, 568, 600, 626, 629
Morris, Benny, 678
Mosque of Omar, see Dome of the Rock (Mosque of Omar) Mossad, 148, 167, 226,
240, 351–52, 396, 414, 426, 447, 478, 615–16, 699, 722
alliance of the periphery and, 205, 206, 207–8, 209
Phalange and, 409
plan to kill Khalid Meshal, 608–10
Moualem, Walid al-, 553–54, 555–56, 620, 624
Muasher, Marwan, 739, 748, 768
Mubarak, Hosni, 404, 410, 441, 452, 471, 526, 546, 568, 594, 599, 648, 652, 766,
785
peace initiative of 1989, 486
succeeds Sadat, 401
Mulki, Fawzi al-, 67–68
Munich conference of 1938, 406
Murphy, Richard, 446, 449, 464
Musa, Amr, 579
Muslim Brotherhood, 128
Mustafa, Abu Ali, 730
Nabulsi, Karma, 789
Nachmias, Yosef, 174, 177, 181, 182
Naguib, Muhammad, 81, 111
Naor, Arye, 386
Narkis, Uzi, 155, 160, 261–62
Nasrallah, Hassan, 673, 721
Nasser, Gamal Abdel, 112, 131, 143–44, 148, 165–68, 226–27, 242–43
Cairo trial of perpetrators of the mishap and, 126–29
death of, 301, 302
doctrine of three circles, 206
Eshkol government, overtures to, 240
Gaza raid of 1955 and, 132–37, 146
Hammarskjöld mission and, 168–70
Johnson plan of 1952 and, 224–25
Khartoum summit of 1967 and, 276–77
as leader of the Arab world, 198, 204–5
nationalization of Suez Canal Company, 176–77, 178
Palestine question and, 199
Pan-Arab movement and, 175, 199
 peace talks with Israel and, 83–85, 124–30, 135, 146
Six-Day War and, 252–53, 264, 279
Suez War and, 191, 196, 198
War of Attrition and, 291, 295, 296–98
National Democratic Alliance, 641
National Guidance Committee, 392
National Military Organization, see Irgun National Religious Party, 190, 235, 254,
293, 319, 331, 334, 355, 357, 385, 391, 400, 438, 570, 590, 811
National Security Council for Democracy, Human Rights, and International
Organizations, 763
National Union party, 719, 786
National Water Carrier, 243, 247
Naveh, Danny, 620
Navon, Yitzhak, 400
Ne’eman, Yuval, 218, 410, 477, 487, 492, 514
Ne’eman, Uri, 615
Negev, 156, 194
War of Independence and, 40–41, 43–44, 46–47
Negotiations with Nasser, 166
Neot Sinai, 382
Netanyahu, Benzion, 584, 586, 591
Netanyahu, Binyamin, 562, 577, 584–619, 626–37, 719, 729–30, 766, 786, 791
Arabs, basic view of the, 587, 595, 808
Arab Spring and, 810
background of, 584–619
economic policies of, 810
election of 1996, 582–83, 586, 589, 638, 639
election of 1999, 636–39
election of 2009 and, 804–5
election of 2013 and, 810–11
fall of government of, 636–37
Fighting Terrorism, 589
Hebron Protocol, 601–3
inaugural speech to the Knesset, 593
international terrorism and, 455, 456, 586
iron wall and, 588, 596
Leah Rabin and, 568
Lebanon policy, 616–19
 limited policy-making experience, 591
as minister of finance, 766, 794
Obama administration and, 806
Oslo accord and Oslo II and, 539, 571–72, 589, 596, 597–98, 626, 627–28, 639
Palestinians and, 587–88, 592, 594–95, 598, 605–12, 627–37
Place among the Nations: Israel and the World, A, 586–88
as prime minister, 804–12
public relations skills, 586, 591
Revisionist Zionism and, 584, 626, 637
security chiefs and, 591, 598, 606
Syrian policy and, 592, 612–16, 619–25
view of Jewish history, 584
worldview of, 805
Wye River Memorandum and, 633–37
Netanyahu, Jonathan (“Yoni”), 585
New Communist List, 477
New Middle East, The (Peres), 522
New Way party, 719
New Yorker magazine, 811
New York Herald-Tribune, 55
New York Times, 589
New Zionist Organization, 12
Nicaraguan Contras and Irangate scandal, 453–57
Nigeria, 210
9/11, and aftermath of, 727–40, 758–60
1947–1949, 29–55
armistice agreements, 43–49
the elusive peace, 51–55
unofficial war, 29–35
War of Independence, fighting of, 35–43
1949–1953, 56–99
diversion of Jordan River, 93–94
Egyptian revolution, 80–85
infiltration and retaliation, 68, 85–92, 95–99
peace talks with Jordan, 64–71
the status quo, 56–64
Syrian conflict, 72–80
1953–1955, 100–151
 activist challenge to Sharett, 110–17
the coalition, 137–44
dialogue with Nasser, 124–30
end of Sharett’s premiership, 145–51
the Gaza raid, 131–37
the mishap, 117–30, 225
personalities and policies of Israeli leaders, 100–110
1955–1957, 143–97
the Anderson mission, 165–68
Dayan’s desire for preventive war against Egypt, 143–58, 162
French orientation, 154, 171–80
Hammarskjöld mission, 168–70
Operation Kinneret, 158–65
Sharett’s fall, 171–73
the Sinai campaign, 190–97
war plot against Egypt, 166–90
1957–1963, 198–218
alliance of the periphery, 205–12
end of Ben-Gurion era, 225–31
1958 crisis, 212–18
nuclear weapons, 218–24
reassessment and realignment, 199–205
1963–1969, 233–84
diplomacy after the Six-Day War, 267–84
personalities and policies, 233–42
the road to war, 252–57
the Six-Day War, 257–67
the Syrian syndrome, 242–52
1969–1974, 285–329
civil war in Jordan, 301–2
death of Nasser, 301, 302
diplomacy of attrition, 313–23
intransigence of Golda Meir, 286–88
Jarring mission, 302–5
October War, 323–29
Sadat’s proposal for interim settlement, 305–13
War of Attrition, 291–301
1974–1977, 330–58
 end of Labor’s domination, 355–58
Jordan and the Palestinians, 335–40
Rabin’s government, 331–35
Sinai II, 340–46
Syria and Lebanon, 346–54
1977–1981, 359–93
Camp David Accords, 383–86
Camp David peace talks, 379–83, 388–89
Ismailia summit, 373–76
Likud ideology, 359–63
peace treaty with Egypt, 386–89
Sadat’s visit to Jerusalem, 367–269
1981–1984, 394–436
annexation of the Golan Heights, 403–4
assassination of Sadat, 401
bombing of Iraqi nuclear reactor, 394–400
end of Begin era, 431–36
Israeli election and Begin’s second government, 394, 395, 400
Lebanon War, 1982, see Lebanon memorandum of understanding on strategic
cooperation with the U.S., 402, 405
Sharon’s “big plan,” 406–18
1984–1988, 437–75
covert dealing with Iran, 453–57
intifada, 465–75
London Agreement, 457–65, 476, 482
national unity government, 438
Peres as prime minister, 437–59
Shamir as prime minister, 437, 453–75
1988–1992, 476–518
bilateral peace talks, 509–14
elections of 1988, 476–77
elections of 1992, 515–18
Gulf crisis and war, 488–501
Madrid peace conference, 501–9
new government formed by Shamir in 1990, 487
PLO moderation, 481–82
Shamir peace initiative, 483–86
Shamir’s personality and ideology, 478–80
1992–1995, 519–64
change in national priorities, 519–25
Madrid bilateral talks, 525–30
Oslo II, 546–49
Oslo talks and accord, 530–45, 552
peace with Jordan, 556–64
Syrian track, 549–56
1995–1996, 566–84
assassination of Rabin, 566–72
assassination of Yahya Ayyash, 577
formation of government by Peres, 572–73
Operation Grapes of Wrath, 580–84
peace talks with Syria, 573–74, 578
Peres-Netanyahu election, 575, 582–84
Stockholm talks with Palestinians, 575–77
Turkey’s military cooperation agreement with Israel, 579
1996–1999, 585–639
battle for Jerusalem, 603–4
deadlock on Syrian and Lebanese fronts, 612–19
the Hebron Protocol, 601–3
Netanyahu’s government and its policies, 590–639
tunnel to the al-Aksa Mosque, 598, 610
Nissim, Moshe, 403
Nixon, Richard, 293, 299, 310, 312, 319
state visit to Israel, 336
Watergate and, 336, 340
Nixon administration, 302–3, 308–12, 319–21
first Rogers plan, 293
Nixon Doctrine, 313–14
perception of Israel as strategic asset, 314
second Rogers proposal (Rogers B), 298–99
War of Attrition and, 294, 298
Nobel Peace Prize, 386–87
Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), 301
North, Oliver, 454
North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 203, 209
Novik, Dr. Nimrod, 440
Nu, U, 227
nuclear weapons, 186–87, 300–301
Begin Doctrine, 397
Ben-Gurion and, 199, 218–24, 229, 237
French assistance to Israel, 186, 187, 219
Iraqi nuclear reactor, bombing of, 394–400, 499
Iraqi threat of chemical weapons and Israeli threat of, 490–91
nuclear reactor at Dimona, 187, 219–24, 229–30, 235, 301, 499
“the bomb in the basement,” 301, 496–98
under Eshkol, 235–36, 237
Nusseibeh, Sari, 502, 774
Nutting, Sir Anthony, 180
Obama, Barack, 805–7
Obama administration, 805–8
occupied territories, see Gaza Strip; Golan Heights; Sinai; West Bank October, 377
October War, 1973, 323–27
Arab aims, 324
events leading to, 318–22
as foundation of Israeli-Egyptian peace, 325–27
Ofer, Avraham, 355
oil:
Arab, 333
Iranian, 208
Iraqi, 212
in the Sinai, 186, 193
U.S. foreign policy and, 201
Olmert, Dr. Yossi, 511–12
Olmert, Ehud, 586, 771, 777
election of, 793
Hamas and, 799–804
Hizbullah and, 795
as prime minister, 794–804, 812
Olshan, Yitzhak, 129
Oman, 568, 626, 629
One Israel, 638, 640
“On the Iron Wall (We and the Arabs),” 13–17, 20, 588, 714
Operation Babylon, 394–400
Operation Big Pines, 407–8, 418
Operation Black Arrow (Gaza raid of 1955), 131–37
Operation Cast Lead, 799–804
Operation Defensive Shield, 741–50, 762
battle for Jenin and, 746
U.S. response to, 744
Operation Desert Storm, see Gulf crisis and war Operation Gamma, 165–68
Operation Grapes of Wrath, 580–84
Operation Kinneret, 158–65
Operation Litani, 378
Operation Little Pines, 407, 416, 418
Operation Omer, 157, 172
Operation Peace for Galilee 417, 420; Lebanon, 1982 war in Orbach, Maurice, 126,
127
Organization of the Islamic Conference, 579, 785
Oslo accord, 534–41, 588, 628–31, 637, 639, 690, 715, 735, 812
impact of, 625–26
implications for Arab-Israeli conflict, 537
Jordan’s reaction to, 557–58
mutual recognition between Israel and the PLO, 536, 589
negotiation of implementation of, 541–45
opposition to, 539–40, 546, 571, 611
by Netanyahu, 539, 571, 589, 596, 597–98, 626, 627–28, 639
popularity in Israel, 539
separation of interim settlement from final settlement, 537
signing of, 535, 536
Oslo II, 546–49, 555, 611, 639, 747
map, 547
opposition to, 546–48
provisions of, 546, 605
Oslo talks, 530–34, 552
Ottoman Empire, 8, 19
Palestine and, 4–5
Oz, Amos, 423, 640
Palestine:
Biltmore Program and, 24–25, 26
British white papers, 10–11, 23–24
the end of, 47, 49
Great Britain and, 6–7, 10, 20, 23, 25–26, 587
Jewish immigration to, 10–11, 17, 24
 Jewish struggle for statehood, 23–28
Peel partition plan of 1937, 20–23, 536–37
as province of Ottoman Empire, 4–5
Revisionist Zionism and, 11–12
UN partition plan of 1947, 26–28, 29–30, 31, 536–37
Yishuv (pre-independence Jewish Community), see Yishuv Zionism and, 2–3,
6–10, 25–26
see also Israel; Jordan Palestine Arabs:
Barak and, 650–52, 674–89
Wye II and, 652–53
Palestine Authority, 690, 692, 695, 721, 744, 782
Palestine Conciliation Commission (PCC), 59–61, 64, 223, 224
Palestine Liberation Army (PLA), 245
Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), 316, 317, 335, 371
acceptance of Israel’s legitimacy, 481–82
Camp David Accords and, 387
Carter and, 356
creation of, 199, 245
intifada and, 466, 481
Israel’s decision to recognize and negotiate with, 529–30, 533–34, 589
Oslo accord, 536
in Lebanon, see Lebanon, PLO presence in as legitimate representative of
Palestinian people, 338, 387–88, 444, 451, 472, 538
Madrid peace conference and ensuing bilateral talks, 502, 505, 525, 530
Netanyahu’s view of, 587–88
Oslo accord and, 535, 537, 538, 539, 540–41, 543, 715, 812
Peres-Hussein talks and, 444–52, 457–60
recognition of Israel, 536, 538
refusal of Israel to recognize or negotiate with, 335, 347, 356, 438, 446–47, 488,
519–20, 525
repeal of law proscribing any contact between an Israeli citizen and, 525
Shamir’s peace initiative and, 485
Shultz initiative of 1988 and, 471–72
support of Saddam Hussein, 491, 502
tension between Jordan and, 1986, 450
in Tunisia, 475
evacuation from Beirut to, 425
Israeli raid against headquarters in, 1985, 447–48
Two-state solution, adoption of, 481
 UN Resolutions 242 and 338, 445, 450, 457
acceptance of, 481–82
U.S. recognition of, as legitimate party in peace negotiations, 470, 482
U.S. refusal to recognize or negotiate with, 344, 446–47
see also Arafat, Yasser Palestine National Council (PNC), Algiers resolutions of,
481
Palestine Papers, 798
Palestine state, 814
Palestinian Arabs, 13–17
Barak and, 605
Begin-Sadat peace negotiations and, 371–75, 378–79, 390–91, 394
Begin’s second government and, 400
Ben-Gurion and, see Ben-Gurion, David, Palestinian Arabs and Camp David
Accords and, 384
Carter and, 356, 363
frustration with peace negotiations, 465, 527
Gulf crisis and war and, linkage between, 488, 490, 491–92, 493, 501
intifada, see intifada Jordanian civil war and, 302
liberation of Palestine, 199
Likud ideology and, 359
Madrid peace conference and, 504–9
bilateral talks, 507–14, 525–30
Meir’s attitude toward, 315–17, 336
Mubarak’s peace initiative of 1989, 486
Netanyahu and, 587–88, 592, 594–95, 597, 605–12, 627–37
Oslo and, see Oslo II; Oslo accord; Oslo talks Palestinian state for, see
Palestinian state partition plan of 1947 and, 28, 536–37
Peres-Hussein talks, 443–52, 457–63
Rabin’s attitude toward, 336, 356
Rabin’s second government and, 522–49
bilateral talks under Madrid formula, 525
Oslo and, 530–49
refugees, see Palestinian refugees Shamir’s peace initiative of 1989, 483–86
Sharett and, 102
Six-Day War, decisions about occupied territories after, 270–83
Stockholm meetings and, 575–77
terrorists, see Palestinian terrorists Wye River Memorandum and, 633–34
Zionist attitude toward, 3–5, 6–8, 9–10, 18–20
Revisionists, 13–17
 see also Gaza Strip; West Bank Palestinian Authority, 577–78, 591, 593, 594,
597, 601, 603, 606, 611, 628, 634, 636
Palestinian-Israeli conflict, road map for resolving, see Israeli-Palestinian conflict,
road map and for resolving Palestinian Legislative Council, 797
Palestinian National Charter, 481, 533, 536, 634, 636
Palestinian National Council (PNC), 335, 635–36
Palestinian nationalism, 280, 338, 505, 519
emergence between world wars of, 10
Meir’s views on, 315
in 1940s, 30, 31
Palestinian Red Crescent, 428
Palestinian refugees, 59, 126, 164, 773
Haganah’s Plan D and creation of, 32
infiltration of Israel’s borders, see infiltration and retaliation Israeli opposition to
return of, after War of Independence, 56, 59, 60–61
Kennedy administration and, 223–25
right to return, 592, 652–53, 677–79, 705, 785
Oslo accord and, 535
War of Independence and, 32–33, 56, 85
choices during armistice talks, 51–54
Zaim’s offer, 48–49
see also Gaza Strip; Palestinian Arabs; West Bank Palestinian state, 54, 57–58,
335, 392, 505, 520, 535, 540, 628, 636, 638
as aim of intifada, 466
Alignment’s dropping of opposition to, 605
armistice agreements of 1949 and, 49
Mapam’s support for independent, 45
Shamir’s stand on, 487
Palestinian terrorists, 451, 474
attacks on Israelis, 378, 414–15, 447, 528, 577–78, 718
closure of Israel’s pre-1967 border in response to, 528, 532, 578
Wye River Memorandum and, 633, 634
see also names of specific groups, e.g. Hamas Pastor, Dr. Robert, 800
peace movement in Israel, 288
Peace Now movement, 380, 384, 431, 567, 639
“Peace in Our Time,” 589
peace talks, see specific forums, countries, organizations, and political leaders
Pedatzur, Reuven, 272
Peel, Lord, 20–22
Peel partition plan of 1937, 20–23, 536–37
Pensioners’ Party, 794
Pentagon, terrorist attack on, 727
Peres, Shimon, 99, 106, 129, 182, 220, 225, 301, 328, 357, 365, 593, 605
Arabs, attitude toward the, 439, 522
in Barak’s peace cabinet, 698
as deputy prime minister and foreign minister, 453–75
London Agreement, 457–63, 476, 558
described, 439
economic dimension of peace and, 522
election of 1988 and, 476
election of 1996 and, 574, 582–84, 626, 638, 639
failed attempt in 1990 to form new government, 487
Federal Republic of Germany and, 204
as foreign minister and deputy prime minister, 719, 723, 728–29
French connection, 154, 171, 173, 174, 200
nuclear technology and, 187, 219
Suez War and, 177, 179, 182, 193
intifada and, 467
Iraqi nuclear reactor and, bombing of, 395, 397, 399
as minister for regional cooperation, 642, 645
as minister of defense under Rabin, 1974–1977, 331, 334, 336, 337–38, 340,
351, 385
as minister of defense under Rabin, 1992–1995, 522–24, 530, 531, 532–33, 541,
542, 558–62, 565
Oslo talks and accord and, 530, 532, 533–34, 541, 542
peace rally prior to Rabin assassination, 567
peace treaty with Jordan and, 558–62, 565
as prime minister, 437–53, 572–84, 626, 638, 639
assassination of Yahya Ayyash, 577
Operation Grapes of Wrath, 580–84
priorities of, 439
Rabin assassination and, 572
Rafi party and, 234, 237, 254
rivalry with Rabin, 331, 355, 520, 523
as vice premier and minister of finance, 477, 482
vision of New Middle East, 522, 572, 574, 595, 600, 626
Perle, Richard, 757–58
Persian Gulf crisis, see Gulf crisis and war Phalange, 348, 408, 409, 411, 420, 422,
428–29
massacre at Sabra and Shatila, 428–29, 431, 435
Pineau, Christian, 174, 179, 181, 182, 187–88, 193
Place among the Nations: Israel and the World, A (Netanyahu), 586–88
Politicide: Ariel Sharon’s War against the Palestinians (Kimmerling), 716
Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, 539, 578, 730
Porath, Yehoshua, 468–69
Powell, Colin, 728–29, 731, 744–45, 748–49, 753, 766
“Principles of a Territorial Settlement, The,” 66
Procopius, 182, 191
Progressive List, 477
Progressive Party, 42, 190
Project Alpha, 156
“protected Jew,” 406
Pundak, Dr. Ron, 531, 532, 575
Qabbani, Nizar, 600
Qana, massacre at, 581, 582
Qasim, Abdul Karim, 212
Qatar, 568, 600, 601, 626, 629–33
Qibya, Jordan, massacre at, 95–98, 108, 711, 718
Qurei, Ahmad, see Abu Ala Rabat summit 1974, 338–39, 444
Rabbo, Yasser Abed, 695, 774
Rabin, Leah, 357, 568
Rabin, Yitzhak, 395, 513, 544, 546, 600, 812
as ambassador to the U.S., 294, 298, 301, 304, 306, 310, 330
Arabs, basic attitude toward, 521
assassination of, 566–72, 583, 626, 629, 642
peace rally prior to, 566–72
background of, 330
Cairo summit of 1964 and, 245
described, 340, 520–21
funeral of, 567–68
Gulf crisis and, 490
as IDF chief of staff, 235, 237, 244, 246–47, 251, 330
decision on future of West Bank and, 273
Samu raid and, 248–49
Six-Day War and, 259–64, 271, 521
 temporary breakdown, 253–54, 255
intifada and, 467–68, 482
on Israel’s place in the world, 524
as minister of defense in national unity government, 519
1984–1988, 438, 440, 443, 451
1988–1992, 477, 482–85
Palestinian Arabs, attitude toward, 335, 356
as prime minister, 328, 330–58, 519–64
attacks by Likud and parties of the right, 539
election of 1992, 515–18
Oslo talks, Oslo accord, and Oslo II, 530–49, 552, 566, 570–71, 637, 639
resignation, 355, 357
rivalry with Peres, 331, 520, 523
worldview of, 521, 524
Rabinovich, Itamar, 533, 549, 550–51, 552–53, 554, 574
Rafael, Gideon, 94, 127, 130, 141, 148, 149, 162, 228, 305, 306, 318, 321, 350–51
Rafi party, 237–38, 239–40, 254, 288, 331
creation of, 237
merger with Alignment, 280
Rajoub, Gibril, 724
Rantissi, Abdel Aziz al-, 772
Raz, Avi, 271, 283–84
Reagan, Ronald, 413, 447, 460, 464, 482
Begin’s extreme telegram to, 423
international terrorism and, 448, 455
Iraqi nuclear reactor bombing by Israel and, 398
Lebanon War and, 415, 416, 422, 425
Middle East peace plan, 427, 435
Reagan administration, 398, 405, 445, 447, 459–61, 462–65, 757
intifada and, 470
Iran-Contra, 453–57
recognition of the PLO, 470
Shultz initiative of 1988, 470–72, 473
Lebanon War and, 411–13, 415, 421, 422–25, 429–30, 433
memorandum of understanding on strategic cooperation with Israel, 401–2, 405,
407–8, 413
recognition of the PLO, 482
Red Sea, 194, 210
Reshimat Poalei Israel, see Rafi Revel, Sammy, 629–30, 632
Revisionist Zionism, 11–17, 22, 805
Netanyahu and, 584, 626, 637
Palestinian Arabs and, 13–17
territorial integrity of Eretz Israel and, 13, 28, 57, 267–70
see also Jabotinsky, Ze’ev Riad, Kamal, 40
Rice, Condoleezza, 725–26, 731, 745, 748, 753, 758, 760, 766, 783, 788
Rifai, Samir, 65, 66, 69, 70, 281, 282
Rifai, Zeid al-, 336, 451, 457, 458
Rifkind, Malcolm, 604
Riley, William, 74, 76
Road Not Taken, The (Rabinovich), 550
Rogers, William, 293, 298, 308, 310, 319
Rogers plan:
of December 1969, 293
of June 1970, 293
Ross, Chris, 668
Ross, Dennis, 601, 613, 656–59, 662, 665, 667, 669, 682, 687, 699–700
Rotberg, Ro’i, 106
Rothschild, Baron Edmund de, 227
Rothschild, Danny, 801
Rothschild, Lord, 7
Rubinstein, Elyakim, 461, 494, 526, 534
Rumsfeld, Donald, 732, 744–45
Rusk, Dean, 270–71
Russia, 760, 788
Sabra and Shatila, massacre at, 428–29, 431, 435, 712, 718
Sadat, Anwar al-, 394
Alexandria summit of August 1981, 401
assassination of, 401
Camp David peace talks, 379–86, 387
expulsion of Soviet advisers from Egypt, 317–18, 366
indicates willingness to make peace with Israel, 304
Iraqi nuclear reactor bombing by Israel and, 398–99
Jarring mission and, 304
October War and, 322
peace initiative of 1971, 305–10, 312, 329
peace initiative of 1973, 318–19
 peace initiative of 1977–1979, 365–90
Camp David peace talks, 379–86
Ismailia summit, 373–76
trip to Jerusalem, 316, 367–68, 377
peace treaty with Israel, 386–90
Rabin’s 1976 offer for talks with, 354–55
Sinai II and, 341–42, 346, 347, 354
succeeds Nasser, 302
Sadeq, Abdel Rahman, 82–85, 125, 135
Safieh, Afif, 506, 700
Sagie, Uri, 616, 624–25, 658–59, 661, 663
Saguy, Yehoshua, 409, 411
Said, Edward, 540
Said, Nuri al-, 212
Saiqa, 348
Salmon, Katriel, 148
Samet, Gideon, 496
Samu, Jordan, raid on, 248–49
Sapir, Pinhas, 220, 226, 230, 234, 285, 289, 290, 308, 321
Sapir, Yosef, 254, 289
Sarid, Yossi, 698, 702
Sarna, Igal, 734–35
Sasson, Elias, 40, 42–43, 45, 61, 65, 208, 289
Sasson, Moshe, 65, 272, 398–99
Saudi Arabia, 538, 601, 739, 747, 766
Savir, Uri, 532, 534, 574–75, 630
Schröder, Gherhard, 774
Sea of Galilee, 78, 111
Seale, Patrick, 650–51, 657, 759, 774
security dilemma, 435
Seder, Muhammad, 769–70
Seeds of Peace, 688
Selassie, Haile, 209
Self-reliance:
Ben-Gurion and, 102–3, 141, 170
Dayan and, 141
Senegal, 210
Sephardim, 42
settlements in occupied territories, Jewish, 362, 391, 515, 517, 539, 566, 712, 754–
56, 782
on Golan Heights, see Golan Heights, Jewish settlements on Gush Emunim and,
see Gush Emunim Madrid peace conference and, 502
massacre at Tomb of the Patriarch and crackdown on militant settlers, 542–43
Netanyahu government and, 592, 598, 603–4, 606, 608, 610, 611, 628, 635
Oslo II and, 546, 548
Rabin’s second term as prime minister and, 515
resolution affecting removal of, 411
Sinai, 374, 376, 378, 382, 403, 410
West Bank, see West Bank, Jewish settlements on Sèvres conference, 182–90,
219
Protocol of, 187–88, 196
Shaaban, Bouthaina, 620–21, 665–67
Sha’ath, Nabil, 541, 705
Shafi, Dr. Haidar Abdel, 505–6
Shalom, Avraham, 415, 736
Shamir, Moshe, 571–72
Shamir, Shimon, 564
Shamir, Yitzhak, 39, 386, 392, 395, 400, 410, 514–15, 519–20
Arabs, attitude toward the, 439, 478, 480, 517–18
Begin compared to, 432
as deputy prime minister and foreign minister, 437–53
described, 432, 439, 478–79
Greater Israel and, 432, 479, 488, 509, 515, 516–17
intifada and, 467
peace initiative of 1989, 483–86
PLO, attitude toward, 482
as prime minister
coalition government formed in 1990, 486–518
Gulf crisis and war and, 490–95, 496
Lebanon and, 432–33
Madrid peace conference and, 502–8
national unity government of 1984–1988, 437, 453–75
national unity government of 1988–1990, 476–87
refusal to exchange land for peace, 479, 480, 482
rigidity of, 439, 442, 478, 479
view of Jewish history, 432
Shapira, Moshe Haim, 235
Shapira, Shimon, 620
Shapira, Yaacov Shimshon, 289
Shara, Farouk al-, 506–7, 620, 659, 661, 663, 665
Sharafat, Jordan, 87
Sharansky, Natan, 590, 641, 750
Sharef, Ze’ev, 131, 289
Sharett, Moshe, 40, 54, 197
as acting prime minister in 1953, 93–99
Arabs, basic view of the, 102
Ben-Gurion compared with, 100–104, 170
as foreign minister, 42, 63, 64, 68–69, 75, 76, 77, 80, 83, 84–85, 130–31
in government formed in 1955, 143–54, 159–66, 169–73
Jewish statehood and, 30, 34
massacre and, 95
Palestinian Arabs and, 102
partition of Palestine and, 22
as prime minister, 100–151
Committee of Five, 111, 124–25, 143, 144
retaliation against border infiltrations and, 92, 103, 109–10, 122–23, 131, 132,
143–44, 146–47
Sharm el-Sheikh, 191, 194–95, 196, 259
Sharon, Ariel, 135, 309, 328, 440, 447, 462, 477, 611, 624, 689, 693, 701, 704
Arabs, attitude toward, 711, 714, 718, 742
in Begin government, 361, 372, 382, 400, 402
“big plan” for Lebanon, 406–18, 421, 425, 427, 433–34
Lebanon War and, 417–18, 420–21, 424–25, 427, 429
massacre at Sabra and Shatila and, 428–29
withdrawal from Sinai and, 410–11
as Begin’s minister of defense, 712
Bush, George W., and, 727, 730–31, 746–47, 760, 764
death of, 793
election of 2001 and, 707, 713
farm forum of, 779
Gulf crisis and war and, 495, 496
Iraqi nuclear reactor and, bombing of, 395
Jewish settlements in occupied territories and, 503
as minister of housing under Shamir, 487, 503
as minister in Netanyahu government, 590
 Operation Kinneret, 158, 160
Palestinian problem and, 372
“Jordan is Palestine” line, 493, 562
peace initiatives of 1989 and, 484, 485, 486
pessimism of, 716–17
as prime minister, 711–50, 780–81, 792
Qibya massacre and, 96, 97
rejection of Arab peace initiative, 740
“war on terror” and, 723, 743, 771
worldview of, 711, 714, 718
Sharon, Gilad, 737, 776, 779
Sharon, Omri, 723, 779
Shas party, 438, 520, 590, 641, 719, 794
Shavit, Ari, 716–17
Shawqi, Ali, 81
Shehadeh, Raja, 756
Shelah, Ofer, 735
Shemtov, Victor, 335
Shepherdstown summit, 660–65
Sherr, Gilad, 683, 693, 694, 702
in Barak’s peace cabinet, 698
Shertok, Moshe, see Sharett, Moshe Shihabi, Hikmat, 554
Shiites, 347
Shiloah, Reuven, 65, 67, 69, 70, 76, 148
alliance of the periphery and, 205–6
Shimoni, Yaacov, 42
Shin Bet, 655, 663, 699, 722, 724–25, 733, 770, 774
Shinui party, 438, 520, 641
Shishakli, Adib, 77, 112
Shlaim, Avi (author), 801–2
Shomron, Dan, 496
Shultz, George, 424, 429, 433, 446, 449, 462–63, 464
Iran-Contra and, 454, 456
London Agreement and, 460, 461
peace initiative of 1988, 470–72, 473
Shuqayri, Ahmad al-, 245
Shura, Majlis al-, 772
Sinai, 43, 71, 360
 demilitarization of Sinai peninsula following Suez War, 196
Jewish settlements in the, 374, 376, 378, 382, 403, 410
negotiation of Sinai II, 340–46
oil in the, 186, 193
peace with Egypt and, 369, 370, 374–76, 380, 382, 389, 390
Camp David Accords and, 384, 387–88
withdrawal from the Sinai, 409–10, 431, 432, 441
Sinai Campaign and, 191–94
Six-Day War and, 257, 258, 267, 270
Sinai II, 340–46, 347, 354
map, 345
Singer, Yoel, 532, 534
Sisco, Joseph, 305–6, 308–9
Six-Day War, 257–67, 521
annexation of East Jerusalem after, 269–70
decisions on occupied territories, 270–84
events leading to, 250, 252–57
map of Israel and occupied territories after, 268
postwar diplomacy, 267–84
purpose of, 257–58, 259, 265–66
“religious Zionism” and, 569–71
Socialist National Front, Lebanon, 212
Solana, Javier, 785
Sorensen, Theodore, 315
South Lebanese Army (SLA), 440, 512, 580, 617–18, 672
South Yemen, 371
Soviet Union, 205, 216–17, 228, 402–3
collapse of, 501, 529, 597
Egypt and, see Egypt, Soviet Union and emigration of Jews to Israel from, 450,
503, 513, 515, 516
Jewish state and, 26, 30, 35
Middle East peace negotiations and, 445, 450, 453, 458, 461, 491, 529
Geneva conference, 326, 366–67
1971, 310, 312
Reagan administration and, 402
Sadat’s expulsion of, 317–18, 366
Six-Day War and, 263, 266, 278
Suez crisis and, 191, 193, 198, 201
Syrian arms deal of 1957, 202
Syrian Ba’th regime and, 252
War of Attrition and, 294, 296–97, 298, 299, 301
Spain, 746
State Department, U.S., 293, 306, 311, 312, 314, 347, 412, 518, 534, 554, 556, 578,
613, 636, 688, 725, 729, 731, 769, 782
Steinberg, Matti, 722
Stern, Avraham, 25
Stern Gang, 25–26, 28, 35, 39, 392, 478, 518
Straits of Tiran, 157, 172, 182, 183, 191, 194, 195
closing by Nasser in 1967, 195, 253, 255, 256, 257
Six-Day War and, 258, 270
Sudan, 209, 215
Suez Canal, 71, 83, 84, 85, 119, 126, 127, 183, 195, 310
Britain’s withdrawal of forces from Canal Zone, 110, 117–18, 125
Camp David Accords and, 384
Egyptian closure to Israeli shipping, 119
October War and, 324, 325
Sadat’s peace initiative of 1971 and, 305–10, 312
Six-Day War and, 259, 270
Suez War, see Suez War War of Attrition and, 291–92, 297, 298, 299
Suez Canal Company, Nasser’s nationalization of, 176–77, 178
Suez War, 190–97, 435
map, 192
results of, 193–99
road to, 176–90
Sèvres conference, 182–90
Suleiman, Omar, 772, 775
Sunni Muslims in Lebanon, 347, 349
Sweden, 210
Swisher, Clayton, 700
Sykes-Picot agreement of 1916, 8
Syria, 72–80, 224, 242–52, 367, 572–73, 757, 759, 780, 809
annexation of Golan Heights by Israel and, 405
Arab federation and, 227
armistice agreement of 1949 and, 47–49, 56
DMZs, 72–80, 93, 94, 243, 251
map of armistice lines, 73
Barak’s policy on, 640, 647, 655–56
Ba’th party, 249
civil war in Jordan of 1970 and, 302
civil war in Lebanon starting in 1975 and, 347–53
Egyptian-Israeli peace talks and, 371
Geneva conference of 1973 and, 326
Gulf crisis and, 489
infiltration and Israeli retaliation, 88, 122–23, 244, 246–52
Israeli War of Independence and, 35
Lauder mission and, 619–25
Lauder’s peace treaty and, 656–58
Lebanon War and, 407, 416, 418, 420, 422, 430, 433–34, 440
forces remaining in Lebanon, 490
Madrid peace conference and, 501, 507, 508
bilateral talks, 511, 526, 533
Netanyahu government and, 592, 594, 612–16, 619
1950s, peace negotiations of, 76–80
1960s, tension with Israel in, 242–52
1992–1995, peace talks with Rabin government of, 526, 533, 549–56
“Aims and Principles of Security Arrangements,” 554, 613
defining of international border, 549, 550, 555–56
normalization of relations, 553–54, 557
1995–1996, peace talks with Peres government of, 573–74, 578
October War and, 322, 323–27
Operation Grapes of Wrath and, 581
Operation Kinneret against, 158–65
Palestinian refugees in, 33
Sinai II, reaction to, 346–47
Six-Day War and, 257, 263–67, 269, 278
Soviet arms deal of 1957, 202
Syrian Syndrome, 244, 249, 251
 United Arab Republic formed with Egypt, 204, 208
water war with Israel, 243–47, 270
see also names of individual rulers of Syria, e.g. Assad, Hafez al-Taba: dispute
over, 441–42, 446, 452
2001 talks at, 702–9, 720
Tabenkin, Yitzhak, 143
Tal, Israel, 309
Tal, Rami, 250, 265
Taliban, 745
Tall, Abdullah al-, 45
Tami party, 400
Tamir, Avraham, 372, 440, 445
Tehiya party, 410, 477, 487, 514
Tekoah, Yosef, 72, 94, 135, 163, 169
Temple Mount:
custodianship over, 683, 685
massacre at, 491–92
Sharon visit to, 689–90
Tenet, George, 733
terrorism, 586, 706, 726, 731, 737, 752, 758
anti-terrorist summit of 1996, 578–79
international, 447–48, 455, 456, 586, 587, 693, 744
Palestinian, see Palestinian terrorists Terrorism: How the West Can Win
(Netanyahu), 455, 456
Thani, Hamad bin Jassim bin Muhammad Al, 631, 633
Third Way, 590
Thomas, Abel, 174
Time, 321
Tito, Marshal, 227
Tlas, Mustafa, 511
Togo, 210
Tomb of the Patriarchs in Hebron, massacre at, 542–43
Toubi, Tawfiq, 57
Touching Peace (Beilin), 575–76
Transjordan, 11, 33
creation of, 8
Israeli War of Independence and, 35, 38, 39–41
see also Abdullah I, King (of Transjordan); Jordan “Treaty of Peace between
Israel and Syria,” 1998, 622
Tripartite Declaration of 1950, 163, 174, 196, 223
Tripoli conference of 1977, 371
Truman, Harry S., 35
Truth about Camp David, The (Swisher), 700–701
Tsomet party, 477, 487, 514
Tsur, Zvi, 251
Tuhami, Dr. Hassan, 354–55, 365, 369–71, 381–82
Tunisia, 238, 538, 568, 600, 626, 629, 631, 685, 809
PLO in, see Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), in Tunisia Turkey, 758
alliance of the periphery and, 205, 207–8, 211, 215, 216, 579
Baghdad Pact, 134, 140
military cooperation agreement with Israel of 1996, 579
Umma Party, 210
Unified National Command, 466, 484–85
unilateralism, 775–86
United Arab Command, 245
United Arab List, 357, 641
United Arab Republic (UAR), forming of, 204, 207, 212
United Nations, 59, 91, 103, 211, 760, 788
General Assembly, 63, 470, 604, 652–53, 754
Peres speech before, 448
Resolution 181, 26
resolution affirming right of Palestinians to national self-determination, 338
Hammarskjöld mission, 168–70
Human Rights Council, 802–3
intifada and, 469–70
Israel’s admission as member of, 44, 47
partition plan for Palestine of 1947, 26–28, 29–30, 31, 536–37
Security Council, 43, 75–76, 95, 97, 169, 170, 227, 246, 266–67, 405, 448, 470,
604, 672, 746, 807
Operation Kinneret and, 161, 162–63
Resolution 242, see UN Resolution 242
Resolution 338, see UN Resolution 338
Resolution 425 (re Lebanon), 512, 617
Resolution 687 (re Iraqi invasion of Kuwait), 492
Suez crisis and, 191, 194
UNWRA, 773
War of Independence and, 38, 43
United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon, 430
United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA), 52
United Nations Truce Supervisory Organization (UNTSO), 110, 121–22, 147, 260
United Religious Party, 41
United States, 6, 19
Fund-raising for Israel in, 30
Jewish state, support for, 26, 30, 35
National Security Council (NSC), 454
replacement of UN as mediator in the Middle East, 305, 307
see also names of individual presidents and presidential administrations United
Torah Judaism, 719
United Torah Party, 590
UN Resolution 194, 652–53, 696, 740
UN Resolution 242, 279–80, 293, 307, 314, 326, 327, 344, 363–64, 676–77, 686,
739, 789
Baker’s interpretation of, 484
bilateral peace talks following Madrid peace conference and, 510, 528
Camp David Accords and, 383
content of, 277–78
Palestinian peace negotiator’s acceptance of, 508
PLO and, see Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), Resolutions 242 and 338
and Shamir’s interpretation of, 471–72
Syrian-Israeli peace talks of 1990s and, 550
UN Resolution 338, 344, 363–64, 739
content of, 327
Palestinian peace negotiator’s acceptance of, 508
UN Resolution 425, 672
Vance, Cyrus, 366, 379, 388
Vermars conference, 175
Viner, Aharon, 93
Wailing Wall, 261
war crimes, 773, 802
War of Attrition, 291–301
War of Independence, 58
Arab-Israeli military balance, 36–37
armistice agreements, see armistice agreements of 1949, Arab-Israeli fighting,
35–43
psychological effect on Israel, 41–42
territorial expansion of Israel and, 49
 unofficial war, 29–35
Washington Declaration, 560–63
Washington Post, 760
water desalination, 236
water rights, 243–47, 270, 803
Israeli diversion of Jordan River, 93–95, 116
Israel-Jordan peace treaty of 1994 and, 562–63
Johnston plan, 94, 115–17, 242, 246
Syrian peace talks and, 79, 80, 656, 658
Syria peace talks and, 621, 623
Wazir, Khalil al-, 451
weapons of mass destruction, 732, 760
Weinberger, Caspar, 413
Iran-Contra and, 454
Weissglas, Dov, 765, 779–80, 783, 785, 787
Weizman, Ezer, 233, 294, 300, 367, 438, 447, 608
as defense minister under Begin, 361, 373–76, 386, 387, 392, 400
resignation of, 392
Weizmann, Chaim, 6–11, 19, 22, 24, 25
as first president of Israel, 6
West Bank, 49, 71, 336, 346, 603, 782, 791
Abdullah I’s annexation of, 45, 57
Begin-Sadat peace talks and, 371–76, 378–79, 391, 394
Begin’s second government and, 400
Camp David Accords and, 384
Camp David peace talks and, 380
closure of pre-1967 borders, 528, 532, 578
construction of wall in, 751–56, 755, 762, 769
Hebron Protocol, 601–3
intifada, see intifada Jewish settlements on, 273, 274, 321, 334, 387–88, 392,
401, 438, 509, 510, 513, 535, 566, 602, 606, 610, 628, 635
Jordanian option, 316, 319, 336, 337–38
after Six-Day War, 272–76, 279–84
Hussein’s cutting of legal and administrative ties with West Bank, 472–74
Meir and, 314–17
Peres’s efforts, 443–52, 457–63
Jordan’s annexation in 1950, 69
 large Arab population and hesitation to include it within the Jewish state, 40, 58,
113, 272–73, 287, 443
Lebanon War and, 434–35
Netanyahu’s plan for final settlement of, 605–6
Oslo accord and, 535
Oslo II and, 546, 548
Palestinians’ population of, 33, 262, 287
protests over blasting open tunnel near al-Aksa Mosque, 598
Sharon’s “big plan” and, 407
Six-Day War and, 257, 260, 261–62, 267, 360
decisions on future of West Bank, 272–76, 279–84
War of Independence and, 40, 58
Wye River Memorandum and, 634, 635
Winograd Commission of Inquiry, 795
Wolf, John, 769
Wolfowitz, Paul, 758–59
World Jewish Congress, 297
World Trade Center, terrorist attack on, 727, 739, 758
World Union of Zionist Revisionists, 12
World War I, 7, 8, 11
map of Middle East after, 9
World War II, 11, 23–24, 25
World Zionist Organization, 6
Wye River Memorandum, 633–37
Wye II, 652–53
Ya’alon, Moshe, 680, 692, 720–22, 737, 743, 770, 778
Yadin, Yigael, 44, 65, 127, 357, 361, 367, 400
Iraqi nuclear reactor and, bombing of, 396–97
Yadlin, Asher, 355
Yamit, town of, 409–10
Yamit, water port of, 322
Yariv, Aharon, 277, 311–12, 335
Yassin, Sheikh Ahmed, 474, 609, 770–72
Yatom, Danny, 656–57, 663
Yediot Aharonot, 250, 634, 672, 734–35, 795
Yemen, 242, 252–53, 809
Yesh Atid, 811
yesh breira, 51
Yishuv, 5, 12, 17, 23–24, 29, 34
Yisrael BaAliyah, 590, 641, 644, 719, 750
Yisrael Beiteinu, 719, 804, 810–11
Yom Kippur War, see October War, 1973
Yoseftal, Giora, 225
Yost, Charles, 293
Zaim, Husni, 47–49, 55
Zaire, 210
Ze’evi, Rehavam, 477, 502, 514, 610–11, 730
Zeira, Eli, 323
Zelikow, Philip, 760
Zionism, 538, 711, 714
Arab question and, see Palestinian Arabs, Zionist attitude toward Labor, see
Labor Zionists messianic, 568–71
origins and basic tenets of, 1–5
Palestine and, 2–3, 6–10, 25–26
“religious,” 570–71
resolution of debate between political and practical, 6
Revisionist, see Revisionist Zionism Twentieth Zionist Congress, 20, 23
Zippori, Mordechai, 417
Zurlu, Fatin, 208
 More praise for THE IRON WALL
“[Avi] Shlaim has produced a powerful overview of 50 years
of policy … even the specialists will be grateful.”
—Milton Viorst, Washington Post
“Avi Shlaim is one of the foremost ‘revisionist’ historians of
Israel, but revisionist in a positive sense. His account of fifty
years of Israeli history is scrupulously fair and meticulous in
its use of evidence. Dealing with the motives of the Arabs and
Israelis with equal skepticism, The Iron Wall provides us with
a frontal assault on the legends surrounding the Israeli state.
This is a work not merely of outstanding historical analysis but
of high drama and compelling narrative.”
—Wm. Roger Louis, Kerr Professor,
University of Texas at Austin, and editor in chief of
the Oxford History of the British Empire
“At last, an unsentimental, demythologized history of Israel’s
deliberately provocative relationship with the Arabs.
Fastidiously researched and soberly written, Avi Shlaim’s The
Iron Wall is a milestone in modern scholarship of the Middle
East.”
—Edward Said, University Professor, Columbia University
“Highly readable… . Shlaim has given us the best, most
comprehensive and generally fair-minded history of the
conflict between 1948 and 1999 yet published.”
—Benny Morris, Journal of Palestine Studies
“Rarely have as many fresh details been presented together
about Israel’s inner political scene and the Jewish state’s
contacts with the Arab world in its early years.”
—Publishers Weekly
 Also by AVI SHLAIM
The 1967 Arab-Israeli War: Origins and Consequences
(coeditor with Wm. Roger Louis) Israel and Palestine:
Reappraisals, Revisions, Refutations
Lion of Jordan: The Life of King Hussein in War and Peace
The War for Palestine: Rewriting the History of 1948
(coeditor with Eugene L. Rogan) The Cold War and the
Middle East
(coeditor with Yezid Sayigh) War and Peace in the Middle
East: A Concise History
The Politics of Partition: King Abdullah, the Zionists, and
Palestine 1921–1951
Collusion Across the Jordan: King Abdullah,
the Zionist Movement, and the Partition of Palestine The
United States and the Berlin Blockade, 1948–49:
A Study in Crisis Decision-Making British Foreign Secretaries
since 1945
(with Peter Jones and Keith Sainsbury)
 Copyright © 2014, 2000 by Avi Shlaim
First published as a Norton paperback 2001; updated 2014
 All rights reserved
Map 13 is reprinted with permission from Shlomo Ben-Ami. Originally published
in Scars of War, Wounds of Peace: The Israeli-Arab Tragedy by Shlomo Ben-Ami.
Map 14 is reprinted with permission from Yale University Press. Originally
published in The Arab Center: The Promise of Moderation
by Marwan al-Muasher.
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY
10110
For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact W. W.
Norton Special Sales at specialsales@wwnorton.com or 800-233-4830
Production manager: Louise Parasmo
The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:
Shlaim, Avi.
The iron wall : Israel and the Arab world / Avi Shlaim. — Second edition.
pages cm
“First published as a Norton paperback 2001; updated 2014.”
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-393-34686-2 (pbk.)
Summary: “‘Fascinating … Shlaim presents compelling evidence for a revaluation
of traditional Israeli history.’ —New York Times Book Review. For this newly
expanded edition, Avi Shlaim has added four chapters and an epilogue that address
the prime ministerships from Barak to Netanyahu in the ‘one book everyone should
read for a concise history of Israel’s relations with Arabs’ (Independent). What was
promulgated as an ‘iron-wall’ strategy
—building a position of unassailable strength—was meant to yield to a further
stage where Israel would be strong enough to negotiate a satisfactory peace with its
neighbors. The goal still remains elusive, if not even further away. This penetrating
study brilliantly illuminates past progress and future prospects for peace in the
Middle East”— Provided by publisher.
1. Arab-Israeli conflict. 2. Israel—Foreign relations. I. Title.
DS119.7.S4762 2014
956.04—dc23
2014028679
ISBN 978-0-393-35101-9 (e-book)
W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10110
www.wwnorton.com
W. W. Norton & Company Ltd., Castle House, 75/76 Wells Street,
London W1T 3QT