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Prophets Without Honor: The 2000 Camp David Summit and the End of the Two-State Solution Shlomo Ben-Ami full chapter instant download
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Prophets without Honor
Prophets without Honor
SHLOMO BEN-AMI
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You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same
condition on any acquirer.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190060473.001.0001
To Itai, Mika, Liv, Zoe, and Daphne
Let the failures we bequeath you refine your gift of restraint and
moderation
The Place Where We Are Right
From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.
The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard.
But doubts and loves
Dig up the world
Like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
Where the ruined
House once stood.
Yehuda Amichai, https://princeton57.org/dynamic.asp?
id=Amichai, with permission of the poet’s widow, Hannah
Amichai
Tragedies are resolved in one of two ways, the
Shakespearean way or the Anton Chekhov way. In a
tragedy by Shakespeare the stage at the end is littered with
dead bodies. In a tragedy by Chekhov, everyone is
unhappy, bitter, disillusioned and melancholy, but they are
alive. I prefer a Chekhovian not a Shakespearean
conclusion.
Amos Oz in an interview with Roger Cohen,
https://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/29/opinion/global/roger-
cohen-sitting-down-with-amos-oz.html.
“If there were a party of those who aren’t sure they’re
right, I’d belong to it,” Albert Camus quoted by Tony Judt,
https://www.nybooks.com/articles/1994/10/06/the-lost-
world-of-albert-camus/
Men make their own history, but they do not make it just as
they please; they do not make it under circumstances
chosen by themselves, but under given circumstances
directly encountered and inherited from the past.
Karl Marx, The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
List of Maps
A Note on Vocabulary
Introduction
IV. DENOUEMENTS
33. Ominous Unravelings
A. THE SPECTER OF THE SINGLE BINATIONAL STATE
B. UNILATERAL DISENGAGEMENT: THE ALON PLAN REDUX
C. UNILATERAL DISENGAGEMENT: EHUD OLMERT’S VERSION
D. DONALD TRUMP’S “DEAL OF THE CENTURY”
34. Exit Oslo, Enter Madrid
Notes
Bibliography
Index
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The idea for this book originated from a conversation with Jonathan
Freedland of the The Guardian. Jonathan came to see the diaries I
had written throughout the Israeli-Palestinian peace negotiations in
the last two years of Bill Clinton’s presidency. His plan was to write a
play about the Camp David summit and the drama of the mis-
encounter between the leaders at the summit. As the brilliant
journalist and essayist that he is, Jonathan probably got absorbed by
more important, and I hope more fulfilling, tasks. I finally ended up
writing a critical account of the entire process from 1999 to these
days, the first part of which is mostly based on my diaries. I wish to
thank Jonathan for inadvertently drawing me back to a bygone era
where the task of struggling for peace was still a necessary, and
noble, endeavor. Peace diplomacy seems to have lost its appeal
everywhere.
Inevitably, one accumulates debts of gratitude throughout the
writing and publication of a book. I am first and foremost deeply
indebted to Andrew Stuart, an agent and a friend. His vast
experience in the editorial world and his advice on ways to improve
the manuscript were truly invaluable. I am obliged also to David
MacBride, the social sciences editor of Oxford University Press, New
York, for his meticulous examination of the manuscript. His assistant
editor, Holly Mitchell, was always kindly responsive and so was Emily
Benitez. Thanks are due also to Cheryl Merritt for the editing
process. Colonel (res.) Dr. Shaul Arieli, who worked with me in
government, is today probably the most knowledgeable scholar of
the intricacies of the Israeli-Palestinian situation. I wish to thank him
for making available to me all the maps in this book. I also hope for
his indulgence for leaving him as one of the last believers in the two-
state idea. I gave up; he still resists heroically. I am also obliged to
Lieut. Colonel (res.) Dr. Ephraim Lavie, with whom I worked closely
during the entire negotiating process, for his invaluable help in
locating bibliographical material.
Hussein Agha has unwittingly been a mentor on Palestinian affairs.
Whatever may be good in my analyses draws to a large degree from
his brilliance and teachings. Gilead Sher was an obliging partner
throughout our close work together. His knowledge of the intricacies
of the Israel-Palestine situation, and his experience in both military
and political affairs as well as in the legal aspects of the conflict
made him the man to work with.
The many backchannel peace seminars organized by the Toledo
International Center for Peace in Spain were an instructive
experience that further helped me shape my views on the Israeli-
Palestinian conundrum. I am also indebted to the University of
Columbia’s School of International and Public Affairs (SIPA) for
offering me the George S. McGovern Visiting Professorship for fall
2016, and to UCLA’s Nazarian Center for Israel studies for the
Visiting Professorship in the Winter of 2018–2019. The work on the
seminar and lectures I gave at these institutions turned out to be an
essential part in the preparation of this book.
My academic upbringing, and life experience on the whole, taught
me the validity of the Jewish aphorism “wisdom from all my
teachers.” But, the shortcomings of my work, this book included, are
entirely my responsibility.
Shlomo Ben-Ami
LIST OF MAPS
The copyright for all the maps is Dr. Shaul Arieli’s, who kindly gave
his consent for their use in this book.
Source: All the maps except the Alon Plan and Olmert’s Realignment
Plan, are from Shaul Arieli, The Truman Institute Atlas of the Jewish-
Arab Conflict (Mount Scopus: Hebrew University of Jerusalem,
2020). The Allon and Olmert’s Realignment Plans are from Shaul
Arieli, A Border between Us: Toward a Solution to the Israeli-
Palestinian Conflict (Tel Aviv: Yedioth Ahronoth, 2021).
A NOTE ON VOCABULARY
***
This book should be read as an obituary to the two-state solution.
The story of the Camp David process and that of all the attempts at
peacemaking that followed it, which are all reviewed and scrutinized
in this book, needs to be seen as a defining failure of the entire
peace paradigm based on the two-state concept. This rote religion
that continues to dominate the international discourse on Palestine is
dead and buried, and it is about time that all stakeholders shift their
attention to other possible scenarios, some ominous and other less
so, which are also examined in this book. Whatever “solution”
happens in the future, it is not going to be the classic two-state
solution with an orderly settlement of the refugee problem and
arithmetically calculated land swaps; it would be a situation born out
of chaos amid broad regional changes, the exact nature of which
one cannot predict.
Not all was bad news in this torturous story, however. The funereal
historiography and poignant memoirs that have emerged in the
wake of the Camp David process, where for the first time ever
Israelis and Palestinians engaged in the Sisyphean task of dealing
with all of the core issues of the conflict, should not overshadow its
achievements, if only for the sake of the historical record. This is the
story of a tortuous drama which, as in almost all peace enterprises
elsewhere, is always paved with crises and violence. Clinton’s
decision to convene the summit was not an irresponsible act of
desperation of a lame-duck president. Palestinians and Israelis gave
his team pre-summit ideas from which they believed a conceivable
endgame could emerge. The president, moreover, as we could
ascertain in meetings in Congress with his Republican nemeses, such
as Senator John McCain, Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott, and a
score of others in the House, enjoyed wide bipartisan support for his
peace enterprise.
The summit itself made enormous progress in breaking taboos no
one before had ever dared touching, and it ended with an outline
that became the foundation upon which the Clinton peace
parameters were produced six months later. These parameters
became eventually the litmus test of every serious peace proposal
since then, all of which are scrutinized in Part III of this book.
Against the unpromising background of the Oslo legacy of the
expansion of settlements and terrorism, we succeeded in coming
closer than ever to breaking the genetic code of the Israeli-
Palestinian dispute. The two-state solution that was bequeathed by
the Netanyahu government in a comatose state, was given in these
negotiations a living form, and a precise set of peace parameters.
But, the two-state solution proved eventually to be undeliverable.
It eluded us not only because of the shortcomings of leaders and
negotiators, but because of the inherent intractability of the conflict.
“Ending the occupation,” which friends and detractors keep
clamoring for, remains, of course, a sublime objective. But this
account of our voyage into the boundaries of the quest for peace as
well as the description of the peace process as it evolved in future
years until the current impasse offers a taste of how innocent can
such a noble objective be.
The Camp David story is not short of witnesses—Palestinians,
Americans, and Israelis—who chronicled the process in informative
and enlightening ways. The former prime minister Ehud Barak was
the last to offer his account. His book is, however, essentially the
story of his life and his exploits as a military man. The chapter that
deals with the Camp David process is incomplete and disappointingly
apologetic. The entire Taba experience is not even mentioned in his
book. Nor is the Taba story a first hand account in the American
memoirs, for it happened after the participants had left office.
Clinton’s and Barak’s accounts are written from the heights of their
leadership positions; they certainly are not self-critical analyses.
History should not be what we choose to remember; hence Henry
David Thoreau’s advice that “it takes two to speak the truth” is such
an essential tool in historical research. My many flaws as a politician
probably stemmed from my obsession with not abandoning my
vocation as a student of history or, dare I say, as an intellectual as
well? As such, I did my best to follow Albert Camus’s adage on the
role of the intellectual not being “to excuse the violence of one side
and condemn that of the other.”6 This book pretends, therefore, to
offer the most nonpartisan, comprehensive, and balanced account
by an insider representing one of the parties. I have read all
previous accounts and compared my notes with theirs, at times
correcting my own original perceptions, in order to offer the most
accurate story possible. Evidently, these were all instant accounts,
written immediately after the collapse of the process; mine is written
with the advantage of historical perspective. This is not the work of
a peace negotiations practitioner, which I am not, but that of a
historian with a compulsive tendency to collect notes and evidence,
and to draw from them policy implications. Nor is this an apologia of
Israel’s behavior throughout the negotiations; it is an attempt to
weave together love and loyalty to Israel with truth-telling. This is
also the account of a minister who formed part of the decision-
making process, and also traveled the region and the world to
engage the international stakeholders. This international dimension,
which remains vital if the flaws of the US monopoly on “the process”
are to be superseded, gets due attention in this book.
Camp David should also be understood through the drama of the
interplay between its actors. Barak’s character flaws, Clinton’s
ineffective leadership of the summit, and his team’s utterly
unrealistic views as to the margin of maneuver the Palestinians had
for making concessions contributed to the outcome. Barak was
desperately slow in understanding the depth of the concessions that
needed to be made. We tried to make peace while destroying the
Palestinians’ trust by expanding settlements, and by not respecting
goodwill pledges. Also, the incompatibility in character between the
two leaders was truly abysmal. Barak was a man of brilliance, broad
strategic understanding, and the necessary courage to take difficult
decisions such as the dramatic withdrawal from Lebanon in May
2000. In our team’s internal deliberations, he was open-minded,
responsive, ironic at times, and always wittily humorous. In
wrapping up such meetings, he tended, however, to display an
almost preternatural capacity for opaque and ambiguous instructions
that left one with the liberty of interpreting them. A uniquely gifted
and thrusting military man with the calling of a statesman, Barak
had an unorthodox mind and a vast knowledge. But his character
flaws were a major handicap when he needed to reach out to
others. He was inept at managing the sensibilities of either friends or
rivals, and he lacked the intuitive tactile sense that makes a great
politician. He was blessed with an elephantine skin that shielded him
against criticism, and a mental fortitude that made him impervious
to pressure, which was perhaps what also made him at times an
overbearing negotiator. He expected people to act according to the
scenario he had written for them and, when they refused, he tended
to lose his composure, and dig in his heels. He obstinately assumed
that what he considered a “reasonable agreement” must also appear
thus in the eyes of whomever he was talking to, in this case the
historic leader of a disinherited nation who had been forged by long
years of struggle and steadfastness. Arafat’s “stubbornness” in
acting against his own interests, as Barak saw them, was
intellectually incomprehensible to him. A conceited and bumptious
Cartesian, he was too abrasive to be able of levelling with a
Palestinian counterpart who was wholly consumed in theological
hallucinations and national mythologies.
Throughout the negotiating process, Barak, and at times others in
our team, myself included, wrongheadedly behaved like Noam
Chomsky’s “new mandarins.”7 “The best and the brightest” of the
American administrations analyzed projections regarding the
behavior of the Vietcong in the Vietnam War in a rational, perhaps
even scientific way. They certainly made use of the best tools that
the elite American universities could offer in areas such as systems
analysis, decision-making, game theory—you name it. There was
one thing they did not take into account: the unbounded human will
of the enemy, as well as the basic fact that the ethos of his struggle
did not answer to the same “rational” patterns upon which the
Americans had built their working assumptions. What “logic,” to
return to the Palestinian arena, was there in the Al-Aqsa intifada,
which was to drive this battered, defeated people to the depths of
Destruction that could only be compared to the days of the Nakba?
This, indeed, was not “logical,” but it represented the fundamental
ethos of a national struggle with a strongly Islamic and nationalistic
flavor. Our rage at the enemy for not taking the steps that we
expected him to take was of no use whatsoever.
Referring to the Vietnam war, the historian and journalist James C.
Thomson wrote in April 1968 of the “effectiveness trap” dilemma of
officials willing to serve under a leader whose positions they did not
share, in the assumption that at some point down the road they
would be able to be effective in improving them.8 I admit that was
my attitude when Barak tried to convince me how reasonable his
idea of a Palestinian state in 66 percent of the land was. Expecting
that Barak could make the leap to more realistic standpoints made
all of us around him hostages to fortune, though. His initial
negotiating positions were, indeed, of monumental absurdity, and his
febrile conviction of their validity was truly perplexing. No less
surprising was his assumption that with such delusionary positions a
final agreement could still be reached in the breakneck speed of a
tight timetable that he imposed on all sides. These negotiations, he
confided to the head of the peace process administration, Colonel
(res.) Shaul Arieli, were not about the creation of two states but
about “a just partition of the West Bank between the parties.”9 He
also rejected the idea that UN Resolution 242 should have any
bearing whatsoever on the Palestinian question. And when Arieli
prepared a plan for a Palestinian state on 87 percent of the West
Bank, Barak asked him to shelve it. The myth surrounding Yitzhak
Rabin’s peace legacy should not, however, obscure the fact that
Barak’s positions were practically identical to those of his slain
mentor. On October 4, 1995, one month before his assassination,
Rabin spelled out before the Knesset his peace plan. He wanted
“less than a state” for the Palestinians, a Jerusalem that is linked to
Maale Adumim, an Israeli “extensive” military presence on the
Jordan River, and sizable blocs of settlements east of the green
line.10
In Palestinian iconography, Arafat was a metahistorical figure, a
pater patriae almost devoid of human features. In his own insatiable
appetite for adulation he saw himself as the reincarnation of Saladin,
the redeemer of Jerusalem from the infidel Crusaders in the twelfth
century. It was through Arafat that the Palestinian keffiyeh became
the icon of an internationally acclaimed national cause. To be sure,
he was also a cunning and deceitful politician, always capable of
rising like a phoenix from the ashes of innumerable setbacks and
defeats. He deserved much of his people’s adoration, though, for it
was he who extricated the Palestinian national movement from the
cynical grip of Arab leaders, gave it a sense of purpose, and turned
it into the most widely resonant national cause in recent times. Alas,
he also was responsible for missing the optimal peace deal once it
was offered. With Arafat, everything was complex and
indecipherably ambiguous. He was incorrigibly evasive, his penchant
for doublespeak disguised and distorted his intentions, and his
showmanship made his interlocutor’s capacity to distinguish between
reality and performance a truly disconcerting task. The way Lloyd
George described his talks with the Irish nationalist Eamon de Valera
—a hopeless exercise in picking up mercury with a fork—is perfectly
applicable to talks with Arafat as well. Arafat also could never resist
the temptation of trading with Palestinian blood, which, admittedly,
did not make him unique among nationalist leaders throughout
history. Leaders of national movements have always used and
abused the blood of their people to advance the national cause. The
Zionists did it brilliantly on the way to statehood with the Holocaust
of European Jewry.11 But, they were also determined state-builders,
which Arafat was not. He was a freedom fighter who fought to
redress an injustice, not to build a future.
An Israeli leader has yet to emerge to genuinely commiserate on,
let alone admit, Israel’s share of responsibility for the Palestinian
tragedy of dispossession and exile. Israel owes its existence to the
Jews’ extraordinary memory of history; it now relies on the
Palestinians forgetting theirs. This compulsive ignorance of the
givens of human nature greatly contributed to making the Israeli-
Palestinian dispute such a desperately protracted conflict. Israel’s
moral abdication and her complete insouciance, a failure of
imagination to conceive the suffering of the other, so typical
otherwise of bitter national conflicts that tend always to
metamorphose into a story of competitive victimhood, are common
to both the right and the left. We, who incessantly fight for the
retrieval of Jewish property confiscated by the Nazis and other
executioners of the Jewish people, created, through the 1950
Absentees’ Property Law, a legal instrument to take possession of
the movable and immovable property belonging to Palestinian
refugees across the state. At Camp David and after, we adamantly
rejected the Palestinians’ demand that compensation for the
refugees be drawn from such properties. The people of the book
applied its teachings to the letter: they “rushed greedily upon the
spoil, and took sheep and oxen and calves, and slew them on the
ground.”12
Alas, history is a textbook of moral paradoxes, and it is absurd
political correctness, or postcolonial patronization, to assume that
the weaker side can never have a responsibility for the tragedies
that have befallen them. The Jews are a living testimony of the
maxim that being the underdog is not to be blameless. That an
independent Jewish state existed for only short periods of Jewish
millenarian history was the result of the blunder of ignoring political
realities and suicidally challenging the world powers that governed
the international system of the time.
Self-determination is never handed on a silver platter. Oppressed
nations throughout history reached it not only because they had the
right or held the moral high ground, but because they were capable
of meeting the historical moment with a sagacious balance of force
and diplomacy. The Kurds probably deserve the dignity of statehood
as much as the Palestinians, but trapped as they are in impossible
geostrategic conditions, they fail time and again in their struggle for
independence. It was a brilliant Palestinian scholar, Yezid Sayigh,
who warned Arafat during the Second Intifada that the Kurdish fate
awaited the Palestinians if he continued to miss the encounter with
history. From the perspective of what today looks like the end of the
two-state solution and, indeed, of any realistic promise of Palestinian
redemption, how can the Palestinians defend the case that they did
not fail in the crucial test of seizing historical moments and their
inevitably imperfect offers? How can they not rue the day that they
turned out the Clinton parameters and later Ehud Olmert’s 2008
peace offer, now that Palestine has been cast away from both the
regional and global agenda?
Nabil Amr, a minister in Arafat’s cabinet, valiantly made precisely
such an accusation in an open letter to Arafat, two years into the Al-
Aqsa Intifada, that is, when it was becoming tragically clear that
Arafat’s failure to give a final yes to Clinton’s peace proposals had
doomed the Palestinian cause:
Didn’t we dance when we heard of the failure of the Camp David talks?
Didn’t we destroy pictures of President Bill Clinton who had the temerity
to propose a Palestinian state with small border modifications? We are
not being honest. Today, after two years of bloodshed we are asking for
exactly what we rejected then, and now it is beyond our reach . . . How
often have we agreed to compromises, only to change our mind and
reject them, and later still find ourselves agreeing to them once again?
We were never willing to learn from either our acceptance or our
rejection. How often were we asked to do something that we could have
done, and did nothing? Afterwards, when the solution was already
unattainable we roamed the world in the hope of getting what had
already been offered to us and rejected. And we discovered that in the
span of time between our “rejection” and subsequent “acceptance” the
world had changed, and we were faced with additional conditions which
again we felt we could not accept. We failed to rise to the challenge of
history.13
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