Martin Indyk - Innocent Abroad: An Intimate Account of American Peace Diplomacy in the Middle East

T oday, with headlines from the Middle East dominated by bloodshed, terrorism, sectarian warfare, civil strife, and threats to destroy Israel, its hard to imagine that not so long ago the politics of the region were punctuated by signing ceremonies at the White House where Arab and Israeli leaders expressed their common commitment to peace and reconciliation. Critics and cynics would later come to mock such occasions as mere photo ops, as if they had no greater significance. But now, given the deplorable state of Middle Eastern affairs, those ceremonies should be remembered as indicators of what was possible when Arab and Israeli leaders, under the auspices of an American president, committed their nations to settle their grievances through peacemaking.

The handshake between Yitzhak Rabin and Yasser Arafat on the White House lawn on September 13, 1993, is usually considered the climactic moment of that era. But that was at the beginning; Rabin seemed quite reluctant to shake Arafats hand. The high point of the peace process actually came two years later, on September 28, 1995, when Rabin and Arafat came to the White House again, to sign the Oslo II Accord, which provided for Palestinian rule to replace the Israeli army in the major cities and towns of the West Bank. Hosni Mubarak, the always-cautious president of Egypt, turned up this time to bear witness. King Hussein bin Talal of Jordan stood proudly next to Rabina year earlier they had signed the Israel-Jordan Peace Treaty. Even the foreign minister of Saudi Arabia in traditional Arab head-scarf and robes was there for the entire world to see.

This time, the audience was treated to a spontaneous gesture quite different to the stiffness of the first occasion: Arafat put an affectionate arm on Rabins back, and Rabin, a shy and gruff man who normally had no time for demonstrative gestures of affection, had left it there as they departed the room together.

Later that evening, President Bill Clinton hosted a reception for the peacemakers at the Corcoran Gallery, across Seventeenth Street from the White House. In the ornate, Doric-columned main hall, Washingtons politicians, diplomats, and lobbyists mingled with representatives of the Jewish and Arab-American communities. After a time, Clinton and Vice President Al Gore appeared with the leaders on a podium at the southern end of the cavernous hall to address the crowd. Arafat and Rabin had not expected to make speeches. Given the opportunity to stray from his usual mantra of demands for justice for the Palestinian people, Arafat actually delivered warm words about the importance of peace with his Jewish cousins.

Rabin responded in kind. He noted that Jews were not famous for their sporting abilities, except when it came to speechmaking, at which he averred they were Olympic champions. Turning to Arafat, he said, It seems to me Mr. Chairman, that you might be a little Jewish! The crowd laughed and a Cheshire-cat grin spread across Arafats normally pouting lips as he declared: Yes, yes, Rachel is my aunt! How exactly Arafat calculated that he was related to the biblical matriarch was a mystery, like so much else about this strange man. But it was emblematic of the occasion that someone who prided himself on being a Muslim world leader would choose publicly to claim Jewish ancestry.

For the first time, Rabin spoke about the right of the Palestinians to self-determination. It may sound strange now, when statehood is commonly accepted as a Palestinian right, that Rabin opposed a Palestinian state, insisting that the Oslo Accords make no mention of it. But this night was different. Feeling that the Palestinians had committed themselves to living peacefully alongside Israel, Rabin outlined his vision of a peace in which Palestinians would have an independent state of their own. What was needed, Rabin explained, was separation, not because of hatred, [but] because of respect.

At that moment, many thought the Arab-Israeli peace process had reached a tipping point. It seemed only a matter of time before a Palestinian state would be established in most of the West Bank and all of Gaza. A peace deal between Israel and Syria was also in the works, painstakingly negotiated in secret between Rabin, Clinton, and Syrian president Hafez al-Asad. If it too could be finalized, the Arab-Israeli conflict would be over.

Five weeks later, Yitzhak Rabin would lie dead in the emergency room at Tel Avivs Ichilov Hospital, murdered by a Jewish religious extremist. The assassination of the principal Israeli architect of peacemaking would set Israelis and Palestinians on a path of destruction that would eventually engulf the whole peace edifice. Try as he might, with Rabin gone, Clinton was unable to salvage the peace process.

H OW FAR WE had traveled in such a short time. Clinton and his peace teamof which I was a memberhad entered the White House full of optimism. A student of history, Clinton understood that the stars were aligned for a breakthrough that could end the Arab-Israeli conflict and provide a lasting legacy for his presidency. That heroic endeavor would in the end turn into a blinding obsession to complete the task he started with his slain Israeli friend, and to burnish his own tarnished presidency.

Bill Clinton attempted to transform the Middle East by making peace, committing his energies and prestige to an objective that befitted the idealism and optimism that underpins American foreign policy. He sought to convert far-off provinces bound in conflict and mired in tribalism into a land of peace and harmony. In contrast to his successor, George W. Bush, Clinton chose to operate within the traditional bounds of statecraft, preferring the instruments of diplomacy to the weapons of war, as he attempted to drag the region across the threshold of the twenty-first century.