When a three-week period of pre-election commercial broadcasts began here on 7th March, not one but two parties were claiming to be the true heir to the legacy of Ariel Sharon.
On the one hand there was Kadima, the party created by Sharon when he angrily broke away from the Likud last November, which filled its ads with images and clips of Sharon, even though he is now its former leader, having been in an apparently irreversible coma since 4th January. One of its candidates explained in a voiceover that "the glue that holds [Kadima] together is his path," an inadvertent admission, perhaps, that the crowd of opportunists that gathered around Sharon within days of his Likud exit came together not because of their agreement on an ideology or programme, but because of their belief in the leadership of Sharon.
There is, in fact, no clear exposition of Sharon's "path," which is what makes it possible for Likud also to claim in its election spots that it is the true follower of the path of Sharon. The party, today led by Sharon's political arch-enemy Benjamin Netanyahu, even employs a clip of Sharon, post-Gaza withdrawal, announcing that Israel will not pursue any additional unilateral pullouts from disputed territory, contrasting this with Kadima's new leader, Ehud Olmert, who, the ad snidely pronounced, "has other plans." The Likud's slick ads are focusing on Olmert, whom they present as an irresponsible political hack who will give away the store now that the statesmanlike Sharon is out of the picture.
The truth, of course, is that it was Likud's consistent opposition to Sharon's programme of unilateral disengagement that drove him to quit the party. Though Olmert's drift leftward from the Zionist Revisionism—the right-wing nationalism that pushed for Jewish settlement of all the land of Israel— he was raised on may have preceded and influenced Sharon's own move to a more compromising stand on the question of the territories, there is plenty of evidence that the two men were as one in their shared desire to have Israel finally arrive at fixed borders. So while everyone heard Sharon say that there would be no more unilateral steps after last summer's disengagement, no one took him at his word, except, apparently, Netanyahu and his copywriters—and in their case it was surely retroactive.
Kadima still holds a commanding lead in the polls, but it has been eroded significantly in recent weeks. Part of this can be attributed to a steady flow of investigative reports in the media that have raised significant doubts about the political ethics of Olmert and co. But after the initial burst of publicity that surrounded first the formation of the party and then Sharon's illness, an ebbing of support from Kadima was probably inevitable. Nevertheless, something dramatic would have to happen in the days before the election to foil a Kadima victory—by which is understood not a majority win of 61 or more seats in the Knesset, but a plurality that would allow it to form a new government, most likely with a like-minded Labour party.
What approach would a Kadima-led government take to the Palestianians and the territories? Olmert is talking more directly about unilateral moves than Sharon ever did—finishing the security barrier, setting Israel's permanent boundaries in such a way to take in the majority of the West Bank settlers while allowing for a withdrawal from most of the territory, and keeping the army in the Jordan river valley to the east. This unilateral approach is appealing to Israeli voters, who despair of a return to a "peace process." After all, it's so much less messy for Israeli politicians to argue among themselves than to have to negotiate directly with the Palestinian authority. (This doesn't mean unilateral decisions will always be trouble-free, as proven by the February destruction by Israeli security forces of houses at Amona, a satellite Jewish settlement in the West Bank north of Jerusalem, which was accompanied by violence unprecedented for an all-Jewish confrontation, with 200 people, from both sides, ending up in hospital.)
Ever since Ehud Barak announced, after failing to forge a comprehensive deal with Yasser Arafat in 2000, that "eyn partner" (roughly, "there's no one to talk to") on the Palestinian side, it has become conventional wisdom among Israelis that the Palestinian moderates are too weak to negotiate with and the radicals not interested in compromise. The argument would be more convincing if Israel, especially under Sharon, hadn't been so intent on ensuring that the moderates, in this case the PA led by President Mahmoud Abbas, remained weak. But none the less, so widespread has this idea become that when Sharon first floated the idea of a unilateral "disengagement" from Gaza, two years ago, the collective sigh of relief was almost audible: thank goodness the Palestinians have left us no choice but to act on our own.
The right wing has not disappeared from the fray, but it has been marginalised, perhaps dangerously so. The violent resistance to the evacuation of Amona is likely to be repeated if and when Olmert decides to make good on even part of Israel's promise to the Americans that it will take down the remaining 100-plus "illegal outposts." For the religious right, the evacuation and destruction last summer of 25 settlements in Gaza and the northern West Bank was a deeply traumatic blow. That the rest of the country just moved on only compounded the feelings of insult and alienation.
For most Israelis, it long ago became an article of faith that a final settlement will see the large concentrations of settlers—in Gush Etzion, Ma'aleh Adumim, and around Ariel—remain in place, a policy it is easy to hold to when Israel is negotiating only with itself. For this reason, Hamas's victory in January's Palestinian elections plays right into the national mood. After all, even the most conciliatory Hamas representative talks about a long-term truce with Israel being contingent on a withdrawal from all of the West Bank, as well as from East Jerusalem. Israelis feel that, since there is a consensus among them that the settlement blocs should stay put and that at least the holy places in East Jerusalem must remain under Israeli supervision, then the matter is settled.
For the time being, then, Israelis are responding to the rise of Hamas with their best defense: humour. Not everyone gets the joke. Take for example, the response of Hamas's number two, Mahmoud Abu-Tir, to being mimicked on the country's most popular satirical television show, Eretz Nehederet ("Lovely Country"). The week after Hamas's victory, Abu-Tir, identifiable by his henna-dyed beard, complained in an interview with Israel's biggest paper, Yediot Aharonot, about his appearance. "If I had the time, I would file a complaint against them. It's a disgrace that they made fun of me in that way," he said, furious that Tal Friedman, one of the show's regulars, had pasted a bright orange beard on to his face, and announced to an interviewer that a newly retooled Hamas had changed its name to "Hahm House" ("Hot House") and now would be running trance parties in place of martyrdom operations. "They didn't even ask my permission." Abu-Tir, like so many militant Palestinians who have spent decades in Israeli prisons, is fluent in Hebrew and speaks to Israeli journalists in their own language. Yet even if his words are comprehensible, the philosophy behind them remains alien, and Israelis' natural reflex is to turn it into a joke. (Some suggest that ridicule is the only possible response to some of Hamas's actions and beliefs. Take the 1988 Hamas covenant, in which we learn that the Jews "were behind the French revolution, the Communist revolution and most of the revolutions we heard and hear about," that in fact "there is no war going on anywhere, without [their] having their finger in it." And it was with the goal of "sabotaging societies and achieving Zionist interests" that the Jews "with their money… formed secret societies, such as Freemasons, Rotary Clubs, the Lions and others.")
What might be Israel's possible responses to a Hamas-led cabinet? Yossi Alpher, the co-editor of the Israeli-Palestinian website bitterlemons.org and former head of Tel Aviv University's Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies, proposes that Israel "keep its powder dry," meaning, basically, stall for the three to four months it is likely to take both sides to form new governments in the wake of their respective elections. He is pessimistic that Hamas can change its spots, even though "we'd have to agree that there are indications of greater moderation, if not pragmatism." Ultimately, says Alpher, he finds it "hard to believe that an offshoot of the Muslim Brotherhood will change to any radical extent. They will be pragmatic, but they can't possibly accept the presence of a Jewish state on Muslim holy land."
If and when Israel does resume unilateral action, stresses Alpher, the model for such action must be the four communities in the northern West Bank evacuated last August, rather than Gaza. Alpher reminds me that the northern West Bank remains in "Area C," that is, territory that is under Israeli civilian and military control. "We removed the settlements, but the IDF did not at the same time shorten its lines of defence. We have to put all our civilians behind the fence, and batten down the hatches for the long haul with Hamas, without turning over the territory."
Gidi Grinstein, the founder and head of Tel Aviv's Re'ut Institute, a non-partisan strategic policy centre, is equally dubious that Hamas in government will change its long-term strategy. He does, however, see an opportunity for Israel to "turn what is seen as a victory for fundamentalists all over the middle east into a setback," by insisting that Hamas fulfil certain conditions to attain Israeli co-operation: Hamas must conform to the accepted norm in international relations, wherein a new regime is committed to honouring agreements made with foreign governments by its successors. It is also time, says Grinstein, for Israel to stop distinguishing between the Palestinian authority, the elected government within the territories, and the PLO, which is supposed to represent all Palestinians, and which is signed on to all the major agreements between that nation and Israel, aside from December's agreement on a Gaza border regime. While it was in opposition, Hamas did whatever it could to scuttle Israeli-Palestinian relations, and at the same time benefited from the chaos that was an inevitable by-product of the ongoing hostilities. Now it will be in charge, and shouldn't be permitted to weasel out of responsibility for its actions by insisting that the Fatah-led PLO represents it in negotiations with Israel.
From co-operation, however, to negotiations is a stretch; neither Grinstein nor Alpher see Israeli talks with Hamas as likely in the future. "The Palestinians are in a double deadlock," explains Grinstein. "Hamas is against a peace agreement, against the idea of the finality of claims, or an end of conflict. Fatah, on the other hand, strategically rejects the idea of a Palestinian state in provisional borders, and calls for negotiations on a permanent-status agreement as soon as possible. There's a double, strategic, ideological disagreement between them with regard to their objectives vis-à-vis Israel, and it has nothing to do with Israel's position at the moment."
But there's a paradox at play for Israel too. As long as Hamas rejects recognition of Israel, the incentive for further unilateral action grows. "But at the same time," according to Grinstein, "there will be growing opposition to the idea of transferring territory to a Hamas-led authority." Alpher is also pessimistic: "My sense is that at the end of the day Hamas's ascent to power is a blow to any chance of a negotiated peace process in the near future." All the more reason, some here argue, for Israel to go it alone, without asking too many questions of its neighbours.
