On October 18, 1991, against long odds and in front of an
incredulous press corps, U.S. Secretary of State James A. Baker III and Soviet
Foreign Minister Boris Pankin announced that Arabs and Israelis were being
invited to attend a peace conference in Madrid.
Standing in the back of the hall at the King David Hotel in
Jerusalem that day, I marveled at what America had accomplished. In 18 months,
roughly the time it took Henry Kissinger to negotiate three Arab-Israeli
disengagement agreements and Jimmy Carter to broker an Egypt-Israel peace
treaty, the United States had fought a short, successful war -- the best kind
-- and pushed Iraq's Saddam Hussein out of Kuwait. And America was now
well-positioned to bring Arabs and Israelis across the diplomatic finish line.
Or so I thought.
Baker, who lowballed everything, was characteristically
cautious. "Boys," he told a few of us aides in his suite after the news
conference, "if you want to get off the train, now might be a good time because
it could all be downhill from here." But I wasn't listening. America had used
its power to make war, and now, perhaps, it could use that power to make peace.
I'd become a believer.
I'm not anymore.
Etymologists tell us that the word "religion" may come from
the Latin root religare, meaning to adhere or bind. It's a wonderful
derivation. In both its secular and religious manifestations, faith is alluring
and seductive precisely because it's driven by propositions that bind or adhere
the believer to a compelling set of ideas that satisfy rationally or
spiritually, but always obligate.
And so it has been and remains with America's commitment to
Arab-Israeli peacemaking over the past 40 years, and certainly since the
October 1973 war gave birth to serious U.S. diplomacy and the phrase "peace
process" (the honor of authorship likely goes to a brilliant veteran State
Department Middle East hand, Harold Saunders, who saw the term appropriated by
Kissinger early in his shuttles). Since then, the U.S. approach has come to
rest on an almost unbreakable triangle of assumptions -- articles of faith, really.
By the 1990s, these tenets made up a sort of peace-process religion, a
reverential logic chain that compelled most U.S. presidents to involve
themselves seriously in the Arab-Israeli issue. Barack Obama is the latest
convert, and by all accounts he too became a zealous believer, vowing
within days of his inauguration "to actively and aggressively seek a lasting
peace between Israel and the Palestinians, as well as Israel and its Arab
Like all religions, the peace process has developed a
dogmatic creed, with immutable first principles. Over the last two decades, I
wrote them hundreds of times to my bosses in the upper echelons of the State
Department and the White House; they were a catechism we all could recite by
heart. First, pursuit of a comprehensive peace was a core, if not the core,
U.S. interest in the region, and achieving it offered the only sure way to
protect U.S. interests; second, peace could be achieved, but only through a
serious negotiating process based on trading land for peace; and third, only
America could help the Arabs and Israelis bring that peace to fruition.
As befitting a religious doctrine, there was little nuance.
And while not everyone became a convert (Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush
willfully pursued other Middle East priorities, though each would succumb at
one point, if only with initiatives that reflected, to their critics, varying
degrees of too little, too late), the exceptions have mostly proved the rule.
The iron triangle that drove Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, George
H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, and now Barack Obama to accord the Arab-Israeli issue
such high priority has turned out to be both durable and bipartisan. Embraced
by the high priests of the national security temple, including State Department
veterans like myself, intelligence analysts, and most U.S. foreign-policy
mandarins outside government, these tenets endured and prospered even while the
realities on which they were based had begun to change. If this wasn't the
definition of real faith, one wonders what was.
That Obama, burdened by two wars elsewhere and the most
severe economic crisis since the Great Depression, came out louder, harder, and
faster on the Arab-Israeli issue than any of his predecessors was a remarkable
testament to just how enduring that faith had become -- a faith he very
publicly proclaimed while personally presiding over the announcement of George
Mitchell as his Middle East envoy in an orchestrated ceremony at the State
Department two days after his swearing-in.
At first, it seemed that Obama, the poster president for
America's engagement with the world, had found a cause uniquely suited to his
view of diplomacy, one whose importance had been heightened by his predecessor's
neglect of the issue and the Arab and Muslim attachment to it. Even before the
Gaza war exploded three weeks prior to his inauguration, Obama had been
bombarded by experts sagely urging a renewed focus on Middle East peace as a
way to regain American prestige and credibility after the trauma of the Bush
years. The new president soon hit the Arab media running as a kind of
empathizer-in-chief, ratcheting up expectations even as Israelis increasingly
found him tone-deaf to their needs.
Obama surrounded himself with key figures, such as chief of
staff Rahm Emanuel and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, who believed deeply
in the peace religion. He named as his chief peacemaker Mitchell, a man with
real stature and negotiating experience; and his national security advisor is
James L. Jones, himself a former Middle East envoy who made the stunning
pronouncement last year: "If there was one problem that I would recommend
to the president" to solve, "this would be it."
All these veteran leaders were not only believers, but had
extra reason to encourage a tougher line toward Israel; they had seen the
Benjamin Netanyahu movie before and were determined not to let their chance at
Middle East peace end the same way. In his first turn as prime minister in the
1990s, the brash hard-liner Netanyahu had driven Bill Clinton crazy. (I
remember being briefed on their first meeting in 1996, after which the
president growled: "Who's the fucking superpower here?") Confronted with Netanyahu
again, Obama and his team needed no encouragement to talk tough on the growing
Israeli settlements in the West Bank, an issue that experts inside and outside
government were clamoring for Obama to raise as the first step in his renewed
push for peace.
At the time, it looked to be a magical convergence of leader
and moment: The Arab-Israeli issue seemed perfectly suited to Obama's
transformational objectives and his transactional style. If Obama wanted to
America," why not try to remake the troubled politics of peace, too? After
all, this was the engagement president, who believed deeply in the power of
Obama was not alone in his belief, of course. The
peace-process creed has endured so long because to a large degree it has made
sense and accorded with U.S. interests. The question is, does it still? Does
the old thinking about peacemaking apply to new realities? Is the Arab-Israeli
conflict still the core issue? And after two decades of inflated hopes followed
by violence and terror, and now by directionless stagnation, can we still
believe that negotiations will deliver?
Sadly, the answers to these questions seem to be all too
obvious these days. And Obama's first 15 months as a disciple of the old creed
tells you why. In 2009, the president pushed the Israelis, the Arabs, and the
Palestinians to get negotiations going and was rebuffed by all three. He later told Time
magazine ruefully that "we overestimated our ability to persuade." In March
of this year, provoked by the Netanyahu government's incomprehensible
announcement of new housing units in East Jerusalem smack in the middle of U.S.
Vice President Joe Biden's visit to Israel, Obama pushed the Israelis again,
harder this time, though it seems without much of a strategy to put the crisis
to good use.
Obama is clearly determined not to take no for an answer.
Fresh from his victory on health care, he's King of the World again and in no
mood to let the King of Israel frustrate his plans. This willfulness is impressive,
and it makes it even more imperative now that he's engaged in the faith to give
that old-time religion a fresh look, based not just on what's possible but on
what's probable. We don't have the right to abandon hope, but we do have the
responsibility to let go of, or at least temper, our illusions.
I can't tell you how many times in the past 20 years, as an
intelligence analyst, policy planner, and negotiator, I wrote memos to Very
Important People arguing the centrality of the Arab-Israeli issue and why the
United States needed to fix it. Long before I arrived at the State Department
in 1978, my predecessors had made all the same arguments. An unresolved
Arab-Israeli conflict would trigger ruinous war, increase Soviet influence,
weaken Arab moderates, strengthen Arab radicals, jeopardize access to Middle
East oil, and generally undermine U.S. influence from Rabat to Karachi.
From the 1940s through the 1980s, the power with which the
Palestinian issue resonated in the Arab world did take a toll on American
prestige and influence. Still, even back then the hand-wringing and dire
predictions in my Cassandra-like memos were overstated. I once warned ominously
-- and incorrectly -- that we'd have nonstop Palestinian terrorist attacks in
the United States if we didn't move on the issue. During those same years, the
United States managed to advance all of its core interests in the Middle East:
It contained the Soviets; strengthened ties to Israel and such key Arab states
as Egypt, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia; maintained access to Arab oil; and yes,
even emerged in the years after the October 1973 war as the key broker in
Today, I couldn't write those same memos or anything like
them with a clear conscience or a straight face. Although many experts' beliefs
haven't changed, the region has, and dramatically, becoming nastier and more
complex. U.S. priorities and interests, too, have changed. The notion that
there's a single or simple fix to protecting those interests, let alone that
Arab-Israeli peace would, like some magic potion, bullet, or elixir, make it
all better, is just flat wrong. In a broken, angry region with so many problems
-- from stagnant, inequitable economies to extractive and authoritarian
governments that abuse human rights and deny rule of law, to a popular culture
mired in conspiracy and denial -- it stretches the bounds of credulity to the
breaking point to argue that settling the Arab-Israeli conflict is the most
critical issue, or that its resolution would somehow guarantee Middle East
The unresolved Arab-Israeli conflict is still a big problem
for America and its friends: It stokes a white-hot anger toward the United
States, has already demonstrated the danger of confrontation and war (see
Lebanon, 2006; Gaza, 2008), and confronts Israel with a demographic nightmare.
But three other issues, at least, have emerged to compete for center stage, and
they might prove far more telling about the fate of U.S. influence, power, and
security than the ongoing story of what I've come to call the
First, there are the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, where
tens of thousands of Americans are in harm's way and are likely to be for some
time to come. Add to the mix the dangerous situation in Pakistan, and you see
volatility, threat, and consequences that go well beyond Palestine. Second,
though U.S. foreign policy can't be held hostage to the war on terror (or
whatever it's now called), the 9/11 attacks were a fundamental turning point
for an America that had always felt secure within its borders. And finally
there's Iran, whose nuclear aspirations are clearly a more urgent U.S. priority
than Palestine. Should sanctions and/or diplomacy fail, the default position --
military action by Israel or even the United States -- can't be ruled out, with
galactic consequences for the region and the world. In any event, it's hard to
imagine Netanyahu making any big decisions on the peace process until there's
much more clarity on what he and most Israelis regard as the existential threat
of an Iran with a bomb.
As Obama surely reckoned, moving fast on Arab-Israeli
peacemaking would help the United States deal with these issues. But that
linkage wasn't compelling when Bush used it to suggest that victory in Iraq
would make the Arab-Israeli conflict easier to resolve; it's not compelling now
as an exit strategy from Iraq either, as if engaging in Arab-Israeli diplomacy
will make the potential mess we could leave behind in Iraq easier for the Arabs
to swallow. Nor can the Arab-Israeli issue be used effectively to mobilize
Arabs against Iran, because the United States could never do enough
diplomatically (or soon enough) to have it make much of a difference. Finally,
linking the United States' willingness to help the Israelis with Iran to their
willingness to make concessions on Jerusalem and borders isn't much of a policy
either. If anything, it risks the United States losing its leverage with Israel
on the Iranian issue and raising the odds that Israel would act alone.
Surely the United States can do more than one thing at once,
the foreign-policy equivalent of walking and chewing gum at the same time. But
America must also do multiple things well. Obama can't have an inch-deep and
mile-wide approach in which he commits to everything without a cruel and
unforgiving assessment of what's really possible and what's not. Nor can the
United States afford another high-profile failure based on what a brilliant and
committed Clinton told us shortly before we went to Camp David: "Guys, trying
and failing is a lot better than not trying at all." This is an appropriate
slogan for a high school football team; it's not a substitute for a
well-thought-out strategy for the world's greatest power. Obama already has
made a commitment to the American people to end two wars, keep them safe from
attack at home, and stop Iran from obtaining a nuclear weapon, not to mention
tackling the challenges of a severe recession and growing deficit.
Governing is about choosing; it's about setting priorities,
managing your politics, thinking strategically, picking your spots, and looking
for genuine opportunities that can be exploited -- not tilting at windmills.
And these days, Arab-Israeli peacemaking is a pretty big windmill.
Even if you could make the case for the centrality of the
Arab-Israeli conflict, could you make peace?
Americans are optimists. Our idealism, pragmatism, and
belief in the primacy of the individual convince us that the world can be made
a better place. Unlike many countries that grapple with existential questions
of political identity and physical survival, Americans today don't live on the
knife's edge or hold (whatever our Puritan or Calvinist beginnings) a dark
deterministic view of human nature.
All this drives our conviction that talking is better than
shooting. Rodney King-like, we believe that if people would only sit down and
discuss their differences rationally and compromise, a way might be found to
accommodate conflicting views. After all, America is the big tent under which
so many religious, political, and ethnic groups have managed to coexist,
remarkably amicably. Perhaps this spirit is best embodied by Obama's Mideast
envoy George Mitchell, who once told me that any conflict created by human
beings could be resolved by them. Mitchell is truly convinced that solutions
can be found and that serious diplomacy is what you do until that time comes.
But he ended his first foray into Arab-Israeli diplomacy with three emphatic
no's: from Israel on a comprehensive settlement freeze, from Saudi Arabia on
partial normalization, and from the Palestinians on returning to negotiations.
Much of our earlier experience in the tough world of
Arab-Israeli peacemaking seemed to bear out Mitchell's initial conviction. In
the time from the 1973 war to 1991, two Republican secretaries of state (Kissinger
and Baker) and one Democratic president (Carter) succeeded in hammering out a
series of Arab-Israeli agreements that established America's reputation as an
effective, even honest, broker -- seeming to validate the simple proposition
that negotiations can work.
If there was anyone who represented the faith in that
proposition, it was me. I recall giving a talk in Jerusalem in the fall of
1998, after Clinton had brokered the Wye River accords (never implemented), in
which I argued that Arab-Israeli negotiations and the move toward peace were
now irreversible. That remark, one of the great howlers of the decade, prompted
a note from Efraim Halevy, then Israel's deputy Mossad chief, rightly
questioning my logic, and though Halevy was too polite to say it in his note,
my judgment as well. Still I believed.
And I continued to do so, all the way through the 1990s, the
only decade in the last half of the 20th century in which there was no major
Arab-Israeli war. Instead, this was the decade of the Madrid conference, the
Oslo accords, the Israel-Jordan peace treaty, regional accords on economic
issues, and a historic bid in the final year of the Clinton administration to
negotiate peace agreements between Israel, Syria, and the Palestinians. But for
a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Arab, Palestinian, Israeli
(and American) unwillingness to recognize what price each side would have to
pay to achieve those agreements, the decade ended badly, leaving the pursuit of
peace bloody, battered, and broken. Perhaps the most serious casualty was the
loss of hope that negotiations could actually get the Arabs and Israelis what
And that has been the story line ever since: more process
Looking ahead, that process looks much, much tougher -- and
peace more and more elusive -- for three reasons.
First, Arab-Israeli peacemaking is politically risky and
life-threatening. Consider the murders of Egyptian President Anwar Sadat and
Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. At Camp David, I heard Palestinian leader
Yasir Arafat say at least three times, "You Americans will not walk behind my
coffin." Leaders take risks only when prospects of pain and gain compel them to
do so. Today's Middle East leaders -- Israel's Netanyahu, Syria's Bashar
al-Assad, and Palestine's Mahmoud Abbas -- aren't suicidal. It was Netanyahu,
after all, who once told me: "You live in Chevy Chase. Don't play with our
Second, big decisions require strong leaders -- think
Jordan's King Hussein or Israel's Menachem Begin -- because the issues on the
table cut to the core of their political and religious identity and physical
survival. This requires leaders with the legitimacy, authority, and command of
their politics to make a deal stick. But the current crop are more prisoners of
their constituencies than masters of them: Netanyahu presides over a divided
coalition and a country without consensus on what price Israel will pay for
agreements with Palestinians and Syria; Abbas is part of a broken Palestinian
national movement and shares control over Palestine's guns, authority, and
legitimacy with Hamas. It's hard to see how either can marshal the will and
authority to make big decisions.
Third, even with strong leaders, you still need a project
that doesn't exceed the carrying capacity of either side. In the past, U.S.
diplomacy succeeded because the post-1973-war disengagement agreements, a
separate Egypt-Israel accord, and a three-day peace conference at Madrid aligned
with each side's capabilities. Today, issues such as Jerusalem (as a capital of
two states), borders (based on June 1967 lines), and refugees (rights, return,
and compensation) present gigantic political and security challenges for Arabs
and Israelis. One accord will be hard enough. The prospect of negotiating a
comprehensive peace; concluding three agreements between Israel and the
Palestinians, between Israel and Syria, and between Israel and Lebanon;
dismantling settlements in the Golan Heights and West Bank; and withdrawing to
borders based on June 1967 lines seems even more fantastical.
Bottom line: Negotiations can work, but both Arabs and
Israelis (and American leaders) need to be willing and able to pay the price.
And they are not.
Under these circumstances, the refrain from many quarters is
that America must save the day. If the Arabs and Israelis are too weak or
recalcitrant, then the United States must support and/or push them to make the
Such forceful U.S. diplomacy succeeded in the past. Indeed,
it's a stunning paradox that with the exception of the 1994 Israel-Jordan peace
treaty, every other successful accord came not out of direct negotiations, but
as a result of U.S. mediation. The Oslo accords, often touted as the miracle
produced by direct talks between Israelis and Palestinians, proved to be a
spectacular failure. All that's missing now, the argument goes, is the absence
of American will.
I understand the logic of this view, and having spent more
than 20 years in frustrating talks with the Arabs and Israelis, I can also see
how it can be emotionally satisfying. But because I know a thing or two about
failure and don't want to see the United States fail (yet again), I simply
don't buy the argument. If I genuinely believed America could impose and
deliver a solution through tough forceful diplomacy, I'd be more sympathetic --
but I don't. And here's why:
Ownership: Larry Summers, Obama's chief economic advisor,
said it best: In the history of the world, no one ever washed a rental car. We
care only about what we own. Unless the Arabs and Israelis want political
agreements and peace and can invest enough in them to give them a chance to
succeed, we certainly can't. The broader Middle East is littered with the
remains of great powers that wrongly believed they could impose their will on
small tribes. Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran … need I continue? Small tribes will
always be meaner, tougher, and longer-winded than U.S. diplomats because it's
their neighborhood and their survival; they will always have a greater stake in
the outcome of their struggle than the great power thousands of miles away with
many other things to do. You want to see failure? Take a whack at trying to
force Israelis and Palestinians to accept an American solution on Jerusalem.
The negotiator's mystique: It's gone, at least for now. When
Americans succeeded in Arab-Israeli diplomacy, it was because they were
respected, admired, even feared. U.S. power and influence were taken seriously.
Today, much of the magic is gone: We are overextended, diminished, bogged down.
Again Summers: Can the world's biggest borrower continue to be the world's
greatest power? Our friends worry about our reliability; our adversaries,
including Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran, believe they can outwait and outmaneuver
us. Nor does there appear much cost or consequence to saying no to the
superpower. After Obama and Mitchell's fruitless first year, I worry that the
mediator's mystique of a Kissinger or a Baker, or the willfulness and driving
force of a Carter, won't return easily.
Domestic politics: The pro-Israel community in the United
States has a powerful voice, primarily in influencing congressional sentiment
and initiatives (assistance to Israel in particular), but it does not have a
veto over U.S. foreign policy. Lobbies lobby; that's the American way, for
better or worse. Presidents are supposed to lead. And when they do, with a real
strategy that's in America's national interests, they trump domestic politics.
Still, domestic politics constrain, particularly when a president is perceived
to be weak or otherwise occupied. This president has been battered of late, and
his party is likely to face significant losses in the 2010 midterm elections.
Should there be a serious chance for a breakthrough in the peace process, he'll
go for it. But is it smart to risk trying to manufacture one? The last thing
Obama needs now is an ongoing fight with the Israelis and their supporters, or
worse, a major foreign-policy failure.
U.S.-Israeli relations: America is Israel's best friend and
must continue to be. Shared values are at the core of the relationship, and our
intimacy with Israel gives us leverage and credibility in peacemaking when we
use it correctly. But this special relationship with the Israelis, which can
serve U.S. interests, has become an exclusive one that does not. We've lost the
capacity to be independent of Israel, to be honest with it when it does things
we don't like, to impose accountability, and to adopt positions in a
negotiation that might depart from Israel's. It's tough to be a credible
mediator with such handicaps.
Fighting with Israel is an occupational reality. It's part
of the mediator's job description. Every U.S. president or secretary of state
who succeeded (and some who didn't) had dust-ups, some serious, with Israel.
(Remember how Bush 41 and Baker used housing loan guarantees? In 1991, the
United States denied Israel billions in credit to borrow at reduced interest
rates because of Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir's determination to build
settlements.) But the fight must produce something of value -- like the Madrid
conference -- that not only makes the United States look good but significantly
advances the negotiations. In short, we need a strategy that stands a chance of
working. Otherwise, why would any U.S. president want to hammer a close ally
with a strong domestic constituency?
And this was the problem with Obama's tough talk to Israel
on settlements. Not only was the goal he laid out -- a settlements freeze
including natural growth -- unattainable, but it wasn't part of a broader strategy
whose dividends would have made the fight worthwhile. Going after the Israelis
piecemeal on settlements to please the Arabs or to make ourselves feel better
won't work unless we have a way of achieving a breakthrough. That a
tough-talking Obama ended up backing down last year when Netanyahu said no to a
comprehensive freeze tells you why.
And that remains the president's challenge after the Biden
brouhaha over housing units in East Jerusalem. In the spring of 2010 we're
nowhere near a breakthough, and yet we're in the middle of a major rift with
the Israelis. Unless we achieve a big concession, we will be perceived to have
backed down again. And even if the president manages to extract something on
Jerusalem, the chances that Netanyahu will be able to make a far greater move
on a core issue, such as borders, will be much reduced. Unless the president is
trying to get rid of Netanyahu (and produce a new coalition), he'll have no
choice but to find a way to cooperate with him.
So now Obama faces a conundrum. A brilliant, empathetic
president, with a Nobel Peace Prize to boot, has embraced the iron triangle and
made America the focal point of action and responsibility for the Arab-Israeli
issue at a time when the country may be least able to do much about it.
Trying to compensate for the absence of urgency, will, and
leadership among Arabs and Israelis by inserting your own has always been a
tough assignment. The painful truth is that faith in America's capacity to fix
the Arab-Israeli issue has always been overrated. It's certainly no coincidence
that every breakthrough from the Egypt-Israel treaty to the Oslo accords to the
Israel-Jordan peace agreement came initially as a consequence of secret
meetings about which the United States was the last to know. Only then, once
there was local ownership or some regional crisis that the United States could
exploit, were we able to move things forward.
Right now, America has neither the opportunity nor frankly
the balls to do truly big things on Arab-Israeli peacemaking. Fortuna might
still rescue the president. The mullahcracy in Tehran might implode. The
Syrians and Israelis might reach out to one another secretly, or perhaps a
violent confrontation will flare up to break the impasse.
But without a tectonic plate shifting somewhere, it's going
to be tough to re-create the good old days when bold and heroic Arab and
Israeli leaders strode the stage of history, together with Americans, willing
and able to do serious peacemaking.
I remember attending Rabin's funeral in 1995 in Jerusalem
and trying to convince myself that America must and could save the peace
process that had been so badly undermined by his assassination. I'm not a
declinist. I still believe in the power of American diplomacy when it's tough,
smart, and fair. But the enthusiasm, fervor, and passion have given way to a
much more sober view of what's possible. Failure can do that.
The believers need to re-examine their faith, especially at a
moment when America is so stretched and overextended. The United States needs
to do what it can, including working with Israelis and Palestinians on
negotiating core final-status issues (particularly on borders, where the gaps
are narrowest), helping Palestinians develop their institutions, getting the
Israelis to assist by allowing Palestinians to breathe economically and expand
their authority, and keeping Gaza calm, even as it tries to relieve the desperation
and sense of siege through economic assistance. But America should also be
aware of what it cannot do, as much as what it can.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, who probably didn't know much about
the Middle East, said it best: "There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe
me, then in half the creeds." And maybe, if that leads to more realistic
thinking when it comes to America's view of Arab-Israeli peacemaking, that's
not such a bad thing.
Paul J. Richards/AFP/Getty Images