November 12, 2004
OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR
A Difficult Visionary, a Stubborn Vision
By BENNY MORRIS
i-On, Israel
For all his sly buffoonery - it was almost impossible to get him to
answer a question properly - Yasir Arafat was a man with a vision. And
when speaking in Arabic he often charted it for his audiences. He
wanted, simply, to "end the occupation" and "redeem Palestine." Arab
listeners, inside and outside Palestine, understood what he was saying.
Many Westerners thought, or preferred or pretended to believe, that he
was talking about the West Bank and Gaza Strip, territories occupied by
Israel in 1967 and constituting 22 percent of historic Palestine. But
they were belittling the man and his dream. Mr. Arafat didn't want and
never really acquiesced in the idea of a stunted West Bank-Gaza state.
And in his vision Mr. Arafat accurately reflected the general will of
his people - as he had throughout his life on all major issues, which
was the secret behind the longevity of his rule (he headed the Palestine
Liberation Organization from 1969 to 2004).
For all Palestinians, from the fundamentalist Islamic Jihad to Mr.
Arafat's mainstream Fatah movement, the tragedy of Palestine and the "occupation" began
not in 1967 or even 1917 but in 1882, when the first Zionist settler set foot
in Palestine. And in 1948 and 1949, the state of Israel was established on 78
percent of Palestine and some two-thirds of Palestine's Arab population was displaced.
When Mr. Arafat set out as a young engineer in the Palestinian Diaspora
to bring justice to his people, he thought and spoke, clearly and
insistently, of the return of the Palestinians to Palestine and the
return of Palestine to its "rightful owners." Nothing less. That is what
Mr. Arafat strove for all his life, wavering only on tactics and
strategy, not on the goal. By the 1990's he understood that only a
combination of political-diplomatic stratagems (resulting in
international - meaning mainly American - pressure on Israel), terrorism
and demographics would do the job, producing a Palestine with an Arab
majority.
Whatever deluded Westerners might believe, Mr. Arafat was no liberal,
taking account of others' views and feelings and seeking solutions
through conciliation and compromise. In Mr. Arafat's eyes and those of
his people, there is only one justice: Palestinian justice. Only what
the Palestinians believe and seek is just. That is why, according to
Dennis Ross, former chief American negotiator in the Middle East, Mr.
Arafat insisted at Camp David in July 2000, to President Bill Clinton's
astonishment and chagrin, that there had never been a Jewish temple on
the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. The small, walled hillock, called the
Noble Sanctuary, with its two mosques, was an Islamic Arab site. That
alone. And so there had to be sole Palestinian Arab sovereignty over the
site.
Of course, Mr. Arafat was actually making a more comprehensive point -
that all of Palestine belonged rightfully to the Palestinians and that
Jewish claims lacked any legitimacy. That was why he turned down the
peace proposals of Mr. Barak in July 2000 and the proposals from Mr.
Clinton the following December. It was not because Mr. Barak had
declined to kiss both his cheeks or because the Palestinians wanted an
additional sliver of land here or there.
Mr. Arafat said no because he refused to accept any settlement that did
not include a mechanism for its future subversion, a loophole that would
allow the Palestinians, down the road, to undermine its two-state core -
specifically, the "right of return" of the Palestinian refugees to
Israeli territory. Such a return would, of course, spell Israel's
demise. (Israel currently has a population of about 5 million Jews and
almost 1.3 million Arabs; there are some 4 million Palestinians
registered as refugees by the United Nations.) In short, Mr. Arafat
wanted "Palestine," all of it, not a watered-down 22 percent solution.
Yet Mr. Arafat needed to take account of Israel's presence and power,
and of the international community's endorsement of Jewish statehood. So
on the road to realizing his vision, he had on occasion to make
ephemeral tactical concessions, like renouncing terrorism in 1988 and
recognizing Israel's right to exist as part of the 1993 Oslo agreement.
In the military sphere, Mr. Arafat delivered only failures (though he
often referred to himself as a "never-defeated general"). His ragged
irregulars were successively churned up and spat out by King Hussein of
Jordan (1970), the Israeli Army (1982) and the Syrians (1983).
And he fared little better in the second intifada, which began in
September 2000. Initially, his suicide bombers exacted a heavy toll of
Israeli lives, mostly civilians. But the Israeli Army and intelligence
services eventually learned to cope, the bombings are down, and most of
the jihadist and Fatah terrorists now spend their days and nights
cowering in West Bank and Gaza cellars in fear of Israeli commandos,
drones and helicopters.
But on the political front Mr. Arafat's achievements have been nothing
short of stupendous. Over the decades he orchestrated an unrelenting
terrorist-political campaign that has placed the Palestinian problem at
the top of the international agenda and garnered for Palestinian
sovereignty and statehood almost consensual international support
(compare this with the almost complete lack of interest in the
Palestinian problem between 1949 and 1967). Within two decades of
assuming the chairmanship of the P.L.O., Mr. Arafat managed to forge the
political tools and alliances, despite military setbacks, that were to
carry the Palestinians to the brink of statehood.
While Mr. Arafat failed to deliver a Palestinian state, the clamor in
the overlapping Arab and Islamic worlds for Palestinian
self-determination is overwhelming. And no worthy Western European can
be seen abroad without a metaphorical kaffiyeh draped around his neck.
Even George Bush and Ariel Sharon say they support Palestinian statehood.
Moreover, by engineering a rebellion that is widely perceived as the
weak versus the strong, the third world against the first, Mr. Arafat
maneuvered Israel, through provocative terrorism, into crushing an
impoverished, suffering people seemingly bent only on liberation. This
has raised serious doubts among many Europeans and even some Americans
about the legitimacy of Israel's existence. Indeed, some serious Western
(and Israeli) intellectuals now openly advocate Israel's replacement by
a unitary Arab-Jewish state, which would eventually devolve into an Arab
majority state. In his last years, Mr. Arafat seems to have set the
international community on a course which may eventually lead to a
reversal of its historic endorsement of Jewish statehood.
Mr. Arafat's death most certainly will result in a succession struggle,
between the generations inside the Fatah and between the Fatah and the
Islamic fundamentalist parties (which may lead to complete anarchy in
the Hamas stronghold of Gaza). But it is unclear whether it will bring
the Middle East any closer to peace. His disappearance removes a major
rejectionist obstacle from the scene.
But it also leaves us with a paradox. For Mr. Arafat was probably the
only Palestinian of our time, given his historical and political
stature, capable of persuading the Palestinians, or most of them, to
accept the concessions necessary to achieve a two-state solution. On the
other hand, his successors - Mahmoud Abbas, Ahmed Qurei and some of the
younger Fatah leaders - may be more amenable to a territorial compromise
but they lack the stature to intimidate or persuade their people to
accept a two-state settlement or to crush their terror-minded
colleagues. So Yasir Arafat's death may have done us no good at all.
Benny Morris, the author of "The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee
Problem Revisited," teaches history at Ben-Gurion University.
Copyright 2004 The New York Times Company