Published in The New York Times:
Op-Ed Contributor:
A Difficult Visionary, a Stubborn Vision
November 12, 2004
By BENNY MORRIS
Li-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.
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