Update: On December 13, 2006, former Israeli ambassador to the U.S. Zalman Shoval will remark on the questions that remain six months after the Lebanon-Israel conflict. RSVP to attend today.

On October 22, 2003, Zalman Shoval, former Israeli ambassador to the United States, spoke at a special media roundtable organized by the Institute to discuss the new separation barrier the Israeli government is currently constructing in an attempt to prevent continued suicide attacks and violence.

Addressing the current crisis in Israeli-Palestinian relations and the prospects for a renewed diplomatic process in the wake of the Iraq war, Shoval in his comments emphasized several points:

The following is a text of his statement at the journalists' roundtable. The views expressed below are those of the speaker, not the U.S. Institute of Peace, which does not take positions on policy issues.

"Separation and Security: Can Israel's Separation Barrier Help Stop the Violence?"
Remarks by Zalman Shoval, October 22, 2003

I want to make clear that I don't come here as a government spokesman, official or even unofficial, and any views I might express today are strictly my own. You have heard me before, and you may be wondering if all those learned theories and proposals propounded over the years by different speakers, including myself, have really got any substance—how come all the problems haven't been solved yet? But though one can always blame this or that political figure, or this or that political development—whether in the United States, in Israel or amongst the Palestinians—and don't get me wrong, I am not saying that those can't be important factors, but could there not also be other reasons—historical ones, cultural ones—sometimes accidental ones—which in one combination or another have prevented reaching not only a permanent, conclusive solution to the Arab-Israel conflict—which I don't see coming very soon anyway—but at least some sort of long-term arrangements—which I think might have been reached—like after Camp David I, or Shimon Peres's "London" agreement or even Madrid?

But to be topical, a speaker these days must, of course, address one of the media's and Middle East mavens' favorite questions: Is "it"— namely the "road map," dead—and you know, Moshe Dayan used to differentiate between "dead" and "dead and buried"; but is it dead or is it "just" temporarily comatose—and I deliberately put inverted commas around the word "just"—for being comatose is bad enough talking about a "vision" which supposedly, though never very realistically, was to be brought off by the year 2005... Well, we all know about "visions," especially in the Land of the Bible—and not only because Jonathan Swift defined visions as "the art of seeing things invisible"—but also because more often than not, there is an almost unbridgeable gulf between a vision and something which has to stand up to scrutiny in the cold light of day.

Personally, I would refrain from declaring the "road map" dead—especially as more than one party, including the Bush administration and Prime Minister Sharon, have, for now, no interest in declaring it so. Why get into a protracted argument, one might say, about something which under present circumstances is fairly hypothetical anyway? I think Washington Post columnist Jim Hoagland had it right when he wrote that Israel will continue as long as it can avoid dramatic and final steps that would complicate President Bush's determined rhetorical commitment to pursuing the road map. And though in view of the present situation, the United States is probably focused right now more on "conflict management" than on "conflict resolution"—this doesn't necessarily mean that everything proposed in the "map" is off—it could just mean that some things will need re-visiting and re-examining in the future. At some point, perhaps, the "road map" should be brought more in line with the original principles of President Bush's June 24, 2002 speech. But also to remind ourselves—there were those, myself included, who had maintained all along that the "road map" as it was published by the "Quartet," and which, as former assistant secretary of state Martin Indyk said, was more of a UN-European document than an American one, had anyway, on the one hand too many "holes" in it, and on the other hand, more than a few unrealistic assumptions. Just to mention two: the totally unworkable timetables, and the basic asymmetry between Israel having to agree from the beginning that the goal of the "map" is establishing a Palestinian state—without there being any mention of doing away with the so-called "right of return"—which in effect means abolishing Israel as a Jewish state. And just to pre-empt a question—the so-called "Geneva Agreement" hasn't done away with it either. Even the underlying vision—here we come to "visions" again—of a "democratic, viable Palestinian state" living in peace alongside Israel inevitably raises the question, considering that there is no single Arab state in the region to which these characteristics, i.e. democracy, stability and viability, etc.—even by the assessment of Arab authorities—would apply—what guarantee is there that the projected Palestinian state would be all that different? What if "Palestine" would turn out to be a fundamentalist, rogue state, probably irredentist towards Israel and Jordan into the bargain? In other words, this proposed Palestinian state might very well be neither democratic, nor stable, nor viable, nor living in peace alongside Israel.

However, probably the most substantial issue in the "map," an issue which all along was bound to either make it or break it, was the imperative to stop Palestinian violence and dismantle the terrorist organizations. This was especially important to Israelis after the failure of the Oslo agreement in this respect and after Arafat's "El-Aqsa intifada" which had followed the breakdown of the Barak-Clinton initiative at Camp David. Former Palestinian prime minister Abu Mazen, in spite of his perhaps good intentions, did nothing much, if at all, about this—and now with Yasser Arafat again trying to pull the strings, the chances that this will occur have diminished even more—especially if one looks at the present chaotic situation in the Palestinian body politic. Actually, it's not just Arafat—although he is the major stumbling block—but even if this were not so—for instance, the minister whom Abu Ala wanted to put in charge of security affairs, General Nasser Youssef, was surely asking himself: How am I going to reconcile the prime minister's declared policy of national unity with the task of fighting "Hamas," "Islamic Jihad," "El-Aqsa Brigades," and all the rest?

The Bush administration's policy towards the Middle East, as I understand it, was based on a triangle of separate but inter-related subjects: Victory in Iraq and the war against terror, an effort to try to reform and democratize the Arab world, and "solving" the Arab-Jewish conflict. And, indeed, after many years of America having been regarded in the region as a "paper tiger," the peoples of the Middle East looked in awe, though not always with glee, at America's decisive military victory over Saddam Hussein. Basically, this attitude has not yet changed in spite of the problems the United States faces in Iraq—but it could change if those problems were to become worse. The link between Iraq and the Palestinian-Israeli equation was that part of the Palestinian leadership, and perhaps the Palestinian people, understood that only with American support—the other side of the coin being American pressure—would the Palestinians have a chance to realize at least part of their aspirations. They equally assumed that given America's overall designs for the Middle East, pressure would also be put on Israel to make concessions beyond those it would otherwise have made. However, the chances for this scenario were all along doubtful anyway, for a number of reasons—and the chances are even less clear now. In other words, the perception amongst Palestinians, even a false perception, of America's policy aims in the region as a whole being in trouble, could automatically make the Palestinians more adamant than before, not more flexible. Therefore, a great deal will indeed depend, and not just for the Middle East, on how the United States will pursue its aims with regard to Iraq and the war on terror in general. America's precipitate withdrawal, 20 years ago, from Beirut led to decades of its losing face in the Middle East and indirectly to many of the region's upheavals—and, all things considered, Iraq and a durable framework for the Persian Gulf and regional security are far more important than Beirut ever was. The Palestinians, like others in the Middle East, will thus be carefully watching how the United States deals with Iraq—and this will directly impact their attitude to the peace process. The deliberate attack on the American convoy last week in the Gaza Strip, killing three Americans, may have been a copy-cat action—as if saying to the United States: "The roads of Gaza won't be safer for you than the streets of Baghdad—but more importantly, it underlined that though these are separate organizations, there exists today a common terrorist front against America and what it stands for—including, of course, Israel, which they regard as America's proxy in the Middle East. And it may also have been meant as another message: "Don't even think about sending American troops, or installing international trusteeships as some suggest, in the "territories." And I will say something else in this connection—and I shall try to be very careful how I put this: Some of the debates going on these days in Europe and even in this country about Iraq look to most Israelis a bit, well, strange—or worse, disingenuous. Convinced pacifists may claim that no war can ever be justified; one remembers the slogan "better red than dead," and even during the Second World War there were those, though not many, who thought that fighting Nazism, especially in a far away country, wasn't "justified." But as wars go, there can be few wars as just and justifiable as the one led by the United States against Saddam Hussein, one of post-World-War Two's most brutal and bloodthirsty tyrants—which, by the way, was no accident, as the Baathist party and regime in Iraq had by design modeled themselves on German National Socialism. This was a regime which was responsible for the massacre of hundreds of thousands of people, a proven promoter of terrorism, using poison gas against its enemies and its own people. Nor should there be any doubt that Iraq would eventually have gone nuclear if Hussein had remained in power, with the international community, headed by the United Nations and the EU, increasingly eager to look away. It might have been easier for Iraq than for Iran—though the threat from Iran is at present no less worrying, to put it mildly. The intent was there and the technological and scientific capabilities were there—and I am not overly impressed by Hussein's scientists saying these days, in order "to save their bacon," (I hate to use this word), that this wasn't so. Maybe the United States could have used better PR—for the most weighty message didn't get sufficiently across: "Yes, one important and justified goal of this war is indeed regime-change—as the free world failed to do with Nazi Germany when there was still time."

But now, let me shift gears to another subject which has received a great deal of, I would say, exaggerated attention, in recent weeks: Israel's planned security fence.

I am now going to repeat something which I said here, at the Institute, once in 2000, and then again, in April 2002. I told you that you should pay attention to a formula which was increasingly being talked about in Israel: —"Unilateral separation." "Part of it," I said, was "a knee-jerk reaction"—like saying: Let's put a wall or a fence between us and the Palestinians to keep away the terrorists. "However," I went on, "beyond public sentiment...ideas are being formulated in different circles," in the way of "let's unilaterally create on the ground a de-facto situation of separation." I said at the time that "there would be a whole range of problems, including domestic political problems, such as the question what to do about isolated Jewish settlements or isolated Arab villages on either side of the fence."

One mistake I obviously made was that I merely mentioned domestic political problems without sufficiently taking into account the international problems, including those between Israel and the United States.

Actually, there is and has been a great deal of confusion, in this country and elsewhere, about the fence—which some, especially in the media, misleadingly, sometimes intentionally, insist on calling a "wall." Perhaps the controversy, at least with the United States, might have been averted if the matter had been dealt with earlier—but frankly, I think that not everybody on the Israeli side was sufficiently aware that the fence was high on the American agenda, if at all. That the Palestinians would object to a fence anywhere was evident—and not just for political reasons—but simply because as long as there are those amongst them who have not given up the option of violence, any sort of physical barrier would make the continuation of terror more difficult—conversely, had the Israeli public been convinced that the Palestinian side was serious about stopping terror—the pressure for building the fence would have been greatly reduced. The principal argument against the fence is, as National Security Adviser Condoleezza Rice has said, that it supposedly "would be creating facts on the ground that would prejudge a final settlement" between Israel and the Palestinians; by the same token, one could, of course, make an equally valid argument that insisting that the fence must unerringly follow the former "green line," almost sanctifying it as a supposedly recognized border—which it isn't and never was—is no less "prejudging" the final settlement. And not only prejudging it, but actually going counter to established American policy which in the past had held that UN Security Council resolution 242 was "incompatible" with Israel returning to the "green line," and that Israel, to cite President Reagan, should "never be asked to return to where it was all of eight miles wide"—or, indeed, to the underlying principle of the Israel-Palestinian peace process, including all its way-stations—Camp David, Madrid, and even Oslo, as well as the "road map"—namely that both sides have legitimate claims and rights with regards to the "territories," and that the future borders must be determined by negotiations and agreements, not by facts on the ground. This is, and has always been the position of all Israeli governments, including the present one. Neither settlements, let alone a temporary security fence, should predetermine the resolution of the issue. The irony of the matter is that the only ones on the Israeli side who are afraid that the fence could prejudge the future are the extreme right, some of the settlers, and adherents of the "Greater Israel" movement—some even accusing Sharon of "treason"—because the way they see it, building a fence anywhere inside the land of Israel would signal that Israel is prepared to give up those parts which are outside the fence.

Be this as it may, Israel has now come up with a plan of leaving fairly wide temporary gaps in the planned fence around Ariel—a town of about 20,000 inhabitants and 7,000 students, including not a few Arab ones, who attend Israel's largest undergraduate college there. How this is going to work from the point of view of security, I don't know, and there also seem to be conflicting views about this compromise in the U.S. administration. There has been talk of reducing the recently agreed loan guarantees to Israel by the amount spent on the fence, or at least parts of it, but I hope that an equitable formula will be found for this as it was in the matter of the previous loan guarantees, which I myself had negotiated 10 years ago with the Bush-Baker team.

This said, there are many, Bernard Wasserstein, the Chicago University historian, for instance, who hold that "unless the security barrier is continuous, and unless passage through it by Palestinians, including Palestinian workers in Israel, is barred altogether, it is doubtful that it could be a significant deterrent to the determined terrorist." They may be right, and I suppose that this view is shared, at least to a certain extent, by Prime Minister Sharon who, as a military person, knows full well that the only way to fight terrorism is by directly pursuing those who are responsible for it. But public opinion in Israel has it that even if only part of the terrorists' acts can be prevented, there should be a fence—and Sharon, like any democratically elected leader, must listen to public opinion.

Aluf Benn, the political columnist of the liberal Ha'aretz newspaper—not necessarily one of prime minister Sharon's most ardent fans, put it like that: "The decision about the route of the separating fence between Israel and the West Bank...is the most important decision of Ariel Sharon's government. The decision proved that the Prime Minister is capable of changing his mind when circumstances dictate this." Benn also reminded his readers that the fence was designed by the moderate left, not the right.

By the way, when I wrote these very lines, the radio brought the news of the suicide-bombing in an Arab-Jewish restaurant in Haifa, killing 21 people. This outrage underscored to most Israelis once again the need for the fence—but also the disingenuousness, if you excuse the expression, of the argument against it.

Having said all that, and putting on, for a moment, my thinking cap as an observer, let me also say that no Israeli government would ever regard a strict and unadulterated adhesion to the former "green line" as Israel's future permanent border—with or without the fence. Ideological or religious considerations aside, from a strictly strategic, security-based approach, this won't be acceptable—given the unalterable fact that most of Israel's coastal plain, and the vast majority of its population, would be at the mercy of anyone occupying the mountains and hills to the east of it—and not very far away either, as Reagan said—"just eight miles." And then there are the surroundings of Jerusalem and the Jordan Valley.

But I would like to add something here. I have used the terms "separation" and "security" or "separating" fence as if they were one and the same thing—they are not. A fence is a fence is a fence—but there are also those, especially some in the Israel Labor party, but not only they, who say: Look, we don't have a real partner on the Palestinian side, we may not have one for a long time—if at all; solutions imposed from the outside aren't going to work either—so let's decide ourselves what and where are really vitally important for us and what and where are not—and withdraw both physically and functionally from what we don't want to hold anyway—and good riddance to the rest. The idea, as some of you will remember, is not new—nor are the arguments against it—but under some circumstances there could be a call, contrary to established policy, to unilaterally create political facts on the ground—thus not necessitating a Palestinian formal agreement to some things they would find it difficult to sign on to de jure, but perhaps not to acquiesce in it de facto. This wouldn't be averting signed agreements altogether—but it would postpone them to a more propitious time, perhaps even pave the way for agreements.

Israelis, and Jewish people in general, have a great liking for commemorating events and dates, happy ones as well as sad ones. And this year, actually these last two months, we marked two events: The "Yom Kippur" war 30 years ago, and the Oslo agreement 10 years ago. But while the Yom Kippur war started badly, even disastrously—it ended not only with one of Israel's greatest military victories, but also with creating the conditions for eventual Egyptian-Israel peace— "Oslo" was believed at first to have started well, both in Israel and abroad—but it ended disastrously—for peace, for Israel's security, and in the view of many, also for the Palestinians. Thus, both the "Yom Kippur" war and Oslo and its disappointments are felt by many Israelis as traumatic experiences they don't want ever to repeat.

Therefore, it's only natural that many prefer to see matters through a glass darkly—for one has yet to see much evidence that on the Arab side, not just the Palestinians, but the Arab world as a whole, there exists a significant body of opinion which has recognized the Jewish state's right to exist—or as Ehud Barak, Israel's former Labor Party prime minister said that it became clear to him at Camp David that Arafat didn't even recognize the existence of the Jewish people. Thus many Israelis ask themselves, if "Oslo," and later the "road map," actually brought about an increase in Palestinian terrorism, not its end—was this not due to the fact that real, historic, ideological compromise was never part of the Palestinian leadership's thought process? And didn't Yasser Arafat's rejection of Camp David after Barak and Clinton had offered more or less everything but the kitchen sink, and later the retrospectively named "El-Aqsa Intifada," which some in Israel prefer to call the "Oslo War," make it clear that accommodation just wasn't in the cards? Frankly, sad to say, there doesn't exist a mountain of convincing evidence to the contrary. The violence, at least in part, is there—not because, as is sometimes being said, Palestinians "don't see the light at the end of the tunnel," but precisely because some of their leaders are either afraid or unwilling to face that light.

Still, and in spite of appearances—and not just appearances, but the very real facts over the years—if one looks at the situation with a grain of historical perspective—there actually has been some progress, some change—perhaps not so much, not yet at least, in results—but with regards to underlying concepts. What has developed, on both sides, perhaps paradoxically, is a greater sense of realism. There is more of that on the Israeli side, evidenced by a clear ideological shift on the center-right, but in spite of the negativism or the incompetence of the established Palestinian leadership, and in spite of the fundamentalization and Islamization of major parts of Palestinian politics—there also are those on the Palestinian side who are beginning to realize that everything they have tried and done, including Arafat's El-Aqsa Intifada, has failed in terms of concrete political results. In addition, their economic situation has gone from bad to worse. If they had hoped that the "intifada" would break the morale of the Israeli people, or create a regional conflict, or cause massive international problems for Israel—almost none of this has happened. Add to that, that with the end of the Cold War the Arab-Israeli conflict is no longer part of some great power competition—while international terrorism is perceived, correctly, as a much greater threat to the world than the Palestinian problem—all this might lead to the conclusion that as it is probably too complicated to conclusively solve all local, longstanding conflicts—one can and should at least, or at most, concentrate on making an effort to contain, to "manage" them.

In this, though not only in this context, it seems to me that Israel's present prime minister and America's present administration share more than a few basic principles and aims—including that the effort to reach permanent solutions to the Palestinian conflict will have to be preceded by fairly long-term interim arrangements—certainly longer-term than the unrealistic timetable envisaged by the quartet's "road map." I think that there is also agreement that the terrorist infrastructure will have to be dismantled and that Palestinian reform, which has come more or less to a stop, will have to be re-launched. There also is agreement that ultimately there should be a two-state solution—which is something no previous Israeli government, certainly not a center-right one, had ever formally or explicitly accepted. This doesn't mean that there are no disagreements, or potential disagreements—on some matters—especially where Israeli positions clash with traditional American attitudes—settlements, for example—nor am I going into additional details, pertinent and important as they will be—for example the question of how to deal with those settlements which may not remain part of Israel in the future, or what the nature of the economic links, if any, between Israel and the Palestinian entity should be, or the various security arrangements, or mutual agreements for the holy places in the respective states. All these may turn out to be major hurdles—or worse. And I haven't even mentioned Jerusalem. Nor is it even absolutely certain that the proposed Palestinian state won't be stillborn for reasons which have nothing to do either with Israel or the United States, but the point I am trying to make is that on the basic parameters of the different issues and how to deal with them, there is probably a greater confluence of views between Washington and Jerusalem these days than there has been in a long time—and not only a result of 9/11 and the war on terror.

But to return for the last time to the question of the "road map's" state of health, or its chances to survive, one could make a case that among other things, provided there will be an effective change in the Palestinian leadership, the "map," perhaps a "sexed-down" map, as a concept, could yet lead to positive results. Given the required correctives, setting the sights a bit lower, and provided the difficult first stages can be overcome, it could still function as a general compass, or crucible, for bringing the two sides to a long term "modus vivendi" which, though short of solving all the outstanding issues, would nevertheless give the two peoples a protracted period of calm and prosperity.

Full-fledged idyllic, "comprehensive" peace between Israel and the Palestinians will probably have to wait for a generational change—but, after all, this wouldn't be all that different from what history has shown in other parts of the world, including Europe: first, pragmatic arrangements, facilitating the reaching of permanent ideological peace in the future.

This is not quite the fulfillment of the sort of "vision" I have mentioned before, nor is it "comprehensive" peace—but perhaps this is the best chance to prove Jonathan Swift wrong—namely that this might for once be the art of seeing things visible.

The views above reflect the remarks of the speaker at the event; they do not represent formal positions taken by the Institute, which does not advocate specific policies.