My Promised Land: The Triumph and Tragedy of Israel (60 page)

The mountain summit of Deir Yassin is now encircled by Kablan Street and Katzenelenbogen Street, the main thoroughfares of the ultra-Orthodox neighborhood of Har Nof. Laborite Israel was reluctant to build on this tainted ridge, but New Israel had no inhibitions. The Likud and Shas coalition governments saw the potential of the real estate of Deir Yassin and capitalized on it. A few steps from the breach in the fence of Kfar Shaul where I entered stands the gaudy, monumental shrine that is Ner-Haim Yeshiva, and the gaudy, monumental shrine that is the Lev Aharon Yeshiva. Between them is the massive dormitory building of the Orot Hateshuva Yeshiva, and the grand Netivei Hatalmud Yeshiva, and the little yeshiva of Mishkan Hatorah. More than twenty yeshivas and synagogues and religious schools stand on the northern slopes of Deir Yassin, and more than twenty stand on its eastern and southern slopes. Here are tens of thousands of square meters of religious institutions whose students don’t work, pay taxes, or fulfill military service. After the grand dream and the great effort and the horrific sin, what Zionism established on the land of Deir Yassin is a new ultra-Orthodox ghetto.

I travel from Deir Yassin to Israel’s national site of commemoration, Mount Herzl. This is the Jewish state’s Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial and Arlington Cemetery all in one. In days past, it was the Palestinian Mount Sharafa: a few Palestinian stone houses and stone quarries scattered on west Jerusalem’s imposing summit. In April 1948, an Irgun squad positioned itself here and rained machine gun fire on Deir Yassin. Sixteen months later, Theodor Herzl was buried on this very same mountain. His majestic state funeral was conceived as a symbolic marking of the end of war and the triumph of the Jewish national movement. In spite of all the obstacles it faced, the great journey that had begun in 1897 had arrived at its destination. The dream was fulfilled: Zionism reached Zion.

The architecture is dignified and restrained. Herzl’s unadorned black granite grave is flat, encircled by an irregular ellipse of gardens, garden paths, and stone fences. In one corner are the graves of the Herzl family and the leaders of the Zionist movement. In another corner is the grave of Vladimir Jabotinsky, leader of the right-wing revisionists and prophet of the iron wall. In a third corner lie Israeli presidents, prime ministers, and speakers of parliament. The symbolism is clear: here, on this summit, Zionism merges with Israeliness and Israeliness subsumes Zionism. Here is the exact point where the reality of the State of Israel is derived from Herzl’s vision. The symbolic site is modest and solemn. Its strength lies in its republican modesty, economy, and asceticism, in its wide gravel pathways and its sparse Mediterranean shrubbery. It is geometric and rational, with no sign of mysticism or messianism or chauvinism. There is nothing man-made here that is larger than man. Mount Herzl is an unmonumental monument.

The military cemetery is also democratic and subdued. The ranks of the fallen are not engraved on the gravestones. In almost every section, generals are buried beside corporals. There are no patriotic inscriptions praising heroism and homeland. There is no attempt to deprive the dead of their individuality. On the contrary, the small stone plaques emphasize the fact that what lies under each one of them is a human being. The simple epitaphs do not sanctify death in war but leave it as it is: final and horrific.

Mount Herzl is the Israel of my childhood. It is the social-democratic Israel of pre-1967. It is secular, egalitarian, and disciplined, both harsh and human, collective and sensitive. There is no nationalistic kitsch here, no religious kitsch. With quiet dignity it makes a statement: On the mountaintop—the visionary. Below him, his disciples. Below them, the state leaders. Below them, the soldiers. Those who toiled, those who fulfilled, those who paid the ultimate price.

Both Yad Vashem and Deir Yassin ask the same dire questions: Shall we live? Shall we overcome our past? Mount Herzl says we shall. Its preoccupation narrative claims that we shall live because we do not dwell on the past. We shall live because we successfully suppress Yad Vashem and Deir Yassin. We shall live because we are just and strong and modern. Our Israel is future-oriented. Solidarity, progress, and courage have enabled it to reign over this summit of sovereignty. Yet this benign
narrative has been disintegrating since 1967. Can we renew it? Can twenty-first-century Israel reconstruct the Mount Herzl republic?

From Mount Herzl I travel to Mount Scopus. Standing where Herbert Bentwich bid farewell to the city of his longing in 1897, I ask myself the classic Israeli questions: What will be? What are our chances? Will the Jewish state survive another century? Will we still be here in 2097?

In recent years, Jerusalem has experienced something of a revival: it has more nightlife and more artistic activity and more young energy than it had at the turn of the millennium. But the capital’s demography is not promising. In 1897 it had a Jewish majority of 62 percent. By 1967 it had risen to 79 percent. But over the last decades it has shrunk back to almost where it was in 1897: 63 percent. Of the children attending schools in contemporary Jerusalem, approximately 40 percent are ultra-Orthodox and more than 35 percent are Arabs. Less than a quarter of Jerusalem’s youth are Jewish Zionists, and only an eighth are nonreligious Jews. It is as if secular Zionism had never happened.

True, Jerusalem is not Israel. But throughout the country, demography is turning against the Jews. Today 46 percent of all of the inhabitants of greater Israel are Palestinians. Their share of the overall population is expected to rise to 50 percent by 2020 and 55 percent by 2040. If present trends persist, the future of Zion will be non-Zionist.

To explore the challenges facing Israel I travel north: from Mount Scopus to Beit El. My great-grandfather was overwhelmed with religious emotions when he saw the supposed archaeological ruins of where Jacob is supposed to have dreamed his ladder dream. But now these remains are barely visible between the prefabricated cement walls and cement towers that Israeli occupiers erected to protect settlers traveling this road from the wrath of occupied Palestinians. From Beit El I follow my great-grandfather’s route to Shilo. The remains of the Byzantine church my great-grandfather saw here lie across from an Israeli settlement surrounded by the high fences of those who chose to be masters living by their sword. Both in Beit El and in Shilo, the question is whether Israel will end occupation or whether occupation will end Israel. The same question arises all around Nablus and in the Valley of Dotan. Will the Jewish state dismantle the Jewish settlements, or will
the Jewish settlements dismantle the Jewish state? There are only four paths from this junction: Israel as a criminal state that carries out ethnic cleansing in the occupied territories; Israel as an apartheid state; Israel as a binational state; or Israel as a Jewish-democratic state retreating with much anguish to a border dividing the land. I still believe the Israeli majority prefers the fourth path. But this majority is not solidified or determined. Israel lacks a political force with the will required to lead the painful and risky retreat. It is also not clear whether the Israeli republic has the competence needed to evacuate settlements and divide the land. The region of Samaria that Herbert Bentwich crossed in April 1897 now looks like a monumental settlement project. So far, Zionism has not been able to summon from within the forces that will save it from itself. It is up to its neck in the calamitous reality that it created in the West Bank.

I diverge from my great-grandfather’s route and head for Mount Baal Hazor. In the introduction to this book, I wrote that two factors make Israel different from any other nation: occupation and intimidation. In the twenty-first century there is no other nation that is occupying another people as we do, and there is no other nation that is intimidated as we are. Now, as an armored IDF bus takes me up to the highest summit in Samaria, I can actually see occupation and intimidation. From the radar base monitoring Israel’s airspace, I think of the concentric circles of threat closing in on the Jewish state.

The external circle is the Islamic circle. Israel is a Jewish state that arouses religious animosity among many Muslims. The occupation of Jerusalem and the West Bank amplified this animosity, but it is Israel’s very existence as a sovereign non-Islamic entity in a land sacred to Islam and surrounded by Islam that creates the inherent tension between the tiny Jewish nation and the vast Islamic world. For years, Israel dealt with this religious tension wisely. It forged alliances with moderate Islamic states and maintained secretive and commercial relationships with others. It created strategic partnerships and fostered mutual interest arrangements and was very careful not to turn the regional conflict into a religious one. But over the years Israel lost some of its Islamist allies as radical Islam swept to power. Jewish extremism and Islamic fanaticism
fed each other. In some Islamic countries, hostility toward Israel became active. Deep currents of anti-Israel feeling are today an integral part of the political landscape in West Asia and North Africa. At any given moment these forces could combust. Iran is the great threat, but so are some other Muslim powers. A giant circle of a billion and a half Muslims surrounds the Jewish state and threatens its future.

The intermediate circle is the Arab circle. Israel is a Jewish nation-state founded in the heart of the Arab world. The Arab national movement tried to prevent the founding of Israel—and failed. The Arab nations tried to destroy Israel—and failed. As such, the very existence of Israel as a non-Arab nation-state in the Middle East is testimony to the failure of Arab nationalism. When Arab nationalism was weakened and corrupted in the last quarter of the twentieth century, it was forced to set aside its grievances and to superficially recognize Israel. That brought about the Israeli-Egyptian peace treaty, the Israeli-Jordanian peace treaty, and regional stability. But the Arab awakening changes all this. As moderate but corrupt regimes are replaced by new ones, public tension rises and there is widespread demand for a tough line vis-à-vis Israel. There is no great Arab-Israeli war on the horizon, but stability is fragile. Israel now faces less Arab military might but more Arab turmoil. As the Arab nation-state (Iraq, Syria, Lebanon) is collapsing, Israel is being surrounded by failed states or extremist nations. As the Syrian chemical weapons crisis that began in late August 2013 proves, new dangers are on the rise. So peace skates on very thin ice. A wide circle of 370 million Arabs surrounds the Zionist state and threatens its very existence.

The third circle is the Palestinian circle. Israel is perceived by its neighbors to be a settler’s state founded on the ruins of indigenous Palestine. Many Palestinians perceive Israel as an alien, dispossessing colony that has no place in the land. The underlying wish of a great number of Palestinians is to turn back the political movement that they blame for shattering their society, destroying their villages, emptying their towns, and turning most of them into refugees. As long as Israel has overwhelming power, moderate Palestinians have to conceal their wish and even suppress it. But moderate Palestinians are in retreat and radical Palestinians are on the rise. As Islamic fundamentalism and Arab extremism become dominant throughout the region, Palestinian pragmatism
is besieged. Thus, if Israel weakens for a moment, the suppressed Palestinian wish will erupt forcefully. And as the overall number of Arab Palestinians overtakes the number of Jewish Israelis, they will be backed by real power. An inner circle of ten million Palestinians threatens Israel’s very existence.

In recent years, the three circles of threat have merged. As Islamic forces strengthened, Palestinian and Israeli moderates weakened and the chance to reach a comprehensive peace diminished. At the same time, Israel’s unilateral withdrawals from southern Lebanon and the Gaza Strip cleared the ground for terrorist organizations whose rockets and missiles rattle Israel periodically. Here is the catch: if Israel does not retreat from the West Bank, it will be politically and morally doomed, but if it does retreat, it might face an Iranian-backed and Islamic Brotherhood–inspired West Bank regime whose missiles could endanger Israel’s security. The need to end occupation is greater than ever, but so are the risks.

Up until now, Zionism was very effective in defending against these three circles of threat. Wise diplomacy prevented the Islamic circle from consolidating into a politically active circle that could strangle Israel. Military might prevented the Arab circle from acquiring the ability to defeat Israel on the battlefield. Sophisticated intelligence prevented the Palestinian circle from destabilizing Israel by the use of terrorism. But pressure is mounting on Israel’s iron wall. An Iranian nuclear bomb, a new wave of Arab hostility, or a Palestinian crisis might bring it down. So the challenge Israel faces in its seventh decade is as dramatic as the one it faced in its first years. Atop Mount Baal Hazor it is clear that we are approaching a critical test.

From the highest summit in the West Bank I drive north to Mount Tabor. When I reach its summit, I get out of the car and walk around the Franciscan monastery and observe the valley Herbert Bentwich crossed after traveling through Samaria in 1897. At that time, not one Jewish Zionist lived here. It was all marshes, subsistence farmers, and Bedouins. But from Mount Tabor, the outcome of the hundred-year struggle is apparent: the Valley of Yizrael is mostly Jewish, but the mountains of Galilee are predominantly Arab. While Zionism won the valleys of the Holy Land, the mountains remained Palestinian. For all its efforts, Zionism did not overtake the Negev mountain or the Galilee
mountain or the Central mountain. It remained a coastal phenomenon, sending long tendrils into the inner valleys. The white minarets of the villages beyond Megiddo and Nazareth make the picture clear. The vanishing Arabs are back.

The State of Israel refuses to see its Arab citizens. It has not yet found a way to integrate properly one-fifth of its population. The Arabs who were not driven away in 1948 have been oppressed by Zionism for decades. The Jewish state confiscated much of their land, trampled many of their rights, and did not accord them real equality. In recent years, oppression lessened, but it was not replaced by a genuine civil covenant that will give Arab Israelis their full rights. To this day there is no definition of the commitments of the Jewish democratic state to its Arab minority, and that of the Arab minority to the Jewish democratic state. On the one hand, there is no real equality for Arabs in Israel, but on the other hand the government does not always enforce the law in their domain and allows their towns and villages to live in partial anarchy. What emerges is a dangerous situation of lawlessness. Many Palestinian Israelis don’t respect central government, but they also don’t feel they belong. Their affinity to the Palestinians outside Israel and the Arabs surrounding Israel mean that their situation is fundamentally different from that of ethnic minorities in North America or Western Europe. Although they are a minority within the Jewish state, they are an integral part of the overwhelming regional majority that makes the Jews of Israel a regional minority. This complexity was never dealt with, and majority-minority relationships within Israel were never defined. For the time being, the economic benefits and the civil rights that the Palestinian Israelis do have keep the peace. Although they do not admit it publicly, they are very much aware of the fact that in many ways they are much better off than their brothers and sisters in Egypt, Jordan, and Syria. But the political bomb is ticking. As the Arab minority grows in number and confidence, it endangers the identity of Israel as a Jewish nation-state. If this crucial issue is not resolved soon, turmoil is inevitable.