2020-09-25

The Process: 1,100 Days that Changed the Middle East eBook: Savir, Uri: Amazon.com.au: Books

The Process: 1,100 Days that Changed the Middle East eBook: Savir, Uri: Amazon.com.au: Books

The Process: 1,100 Days that Changed the Middle East Kindle Edition
by Uri Savir (Author)  Format: Kindle Edition



"Meet your Enemy Number One," a nervous Norwegian diplomat said to Uri Savir, the young director-general of Israel's Foreign Ministry, as he introduced him to Abu Ala, one of Yasser Arafat's top aides. They were in Oslo, and this was the first official encounter between Israel and the PLO. The atmosphere was tense. Savir read from prepared notes: "The aim of Israel's elected government," he began, "is to bring about a historic reconciliation with the Palestinian people. We have no interest in only a cosmetic change of the status quo. It is not our wish to control your lives. . . ." For more than half a century, both sides had denied the other's right to exist; both had sustained a terrible toll. Yet in the three years that followed that first encounter, after thousands of hours of subtle and complex secret negotiations, they hammered out the blueprint for a peaceful conclusion to a conflict that had seemed irre-
concilable. This book is the Israeli chief negotiator's extraordinary account of those negotiations, their implementation and aftermath, and of the un-
likely partnership that emerged between Yitz-
hak Rabin, Yasser Arafat, and Shimon Peres.
As the process initiated at Oslo began to re-
shape allegiances throughout the Middle East, Israeli and Palestinian extremists set out to violently destroy what they described as "the threat of peace." This is the inside story of the race between those committed to reconciliation and those who vowed to destroy the peace. It is also a poignant story of the developing relationship between Savir and Abu Ala, both from Jeru-
salem, both committed to their people, to their land, and to peace.
Will the peace process initiated at Oslo prevail against the assault of extremists and enemies of peace on both sides? The answer to this question, and the future of the peace process, is crucial not just to Israel and the Palestinians, but to the Middle East and the world.

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From the Inside Flap
our Enemy Number One," a nervous Norwegian diplomat said to Uri Savir, the young director-general of Israel's Foreign Ministry, as he introduced him to Abu Ala, one of Yasser Arafat's top aides. They were in Oslo, and this was the first official encounter between Israel and the PLO. The atmosphere was tense. Savir read from prepared notes: "The aim of Israel's elected government," he began, "is to bring about a historic reconciliation with the Palestinian people. We have no interest in only a cosmetic change of the status quo. It is not our wish to control your lives. . . ."
          For more than half a century, both sides had denied the other's right to exist; both had sustained a terrible toll. Yet in the three years that followed that first encounter, after thousands of hours of subtle and complex secret negotiations, they hammered out the blueprint for a peaceful conclusion to a conflict that had seemed irre-
--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
About the Author
Uri Savir was Israel's chief negotiator with the PLO from 1993 to 1996. He was the first Israeli official to negotiate secretly with a senior representative of the PLO. From their first meeting up until the signing of the Interim Agreement in September 1995, he and his Palestinian counterpart, Abu Ala, spent approximately thirty-five hundred hours in negotiations. In 1994-95, Savir headed Israel's delegation for talks with Syria and permanent status negotiations with the Palestinians. Savir has been an associate of Shimon Peres since 1984. He was Israel's consul general in New York between 1988 and 1992 and director-general of Israel's Foreign Ministry from 1993 to 1996. Today, he heads the newly founded Peres Center for Peace in Tel Aviv. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
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From Kirkus Reviews
A leading Israeli diplomat's insider view of the intricate negotiations between his country and the Palestinians from May 1993, four months before the conclusion of the Oslo agreement, through May 1996 and the election of Benjamin Netanyahu as prime minister. Savir, former Israeli consul-general in New York, became director general of his country's Foreign Ministry under the late Yitzhak Rabin. When it became apparent that the secret Oslo talks begun in early 1993 had a real potential for a diplomatic breakthrough, he was named head of the Jewish state's negotiations with the PLO, and then the Palestinian Authority, during the three-year period he chronicles. Norwegian mediators half-jokingly, half-seriously introduced his Palestinian counterpart, Abu Ala, to Savir as ``your enemy number one.'' The two often conveyed sharply conflicting views and instructions from their superiors, yet not only learned how to work together but developed a deep respect, even fondness, for each other. Savir is most revealing in relating how fraught with basic national yearnings and symbolism even the most seemingly technical issues became. The Israelis were desperate for security and an end to terror, the Palestinians equally insistent on not being condescended to or humiliated by the Israelis, and upon a recognition of the trappings of a national identity. Savir also writes with an admirable capacity to criticize Israeli leaders in a thoughtful and restrained way. For example, concerning Israel's closure of the Gaza and West Bank borders and its concomitant focus on Arafat's inadequate efforts to combat Palestinian terrorists, he acknowledges that ``we tended to be so focused on the Palestinian leadership that we often failed to see Palestinian society as a community of needs and aspirations that its leaders must serve and reflect.'' Passages like this will make Savir open to charges of not being a hard-headed enough diplomat and historian; others will rightfully praise him for possessing the skilled negotiator's necessary qualities of empathy, vision, and an ability to compromise. -- Copyright ©1998, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From the Inside Flap
our Enemy Number One," a nervous Norwegian diplomat said to Uri Savir, the young director-general of Israel's Foreign Ministry, as he introduced him to Abu Ala, one of Yasser Arafat's top aides. They were in Oslo, and this was the first official encounter between Israel and the PLO. The atmosphere was tense. Savir read from prepared notes: "The aim of Israel's elected government," he began, "is to bring about a historic reconciliation with the Palestinian people. We have no interest in only a cosmetic change of the status quo. It is not our wish to control your lives. . . ."
          For more than half a century, both sides had denied the other's right to exist; both had sustained a terrible toll. Yet in the three years that followed that first encounter, after thousands of hours of subtle and complex secret negotiations, they hammered out the blueprint for a peaceful conclusion to a conflict that had seemed irre-
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
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Product details
File Size : 1224 KB
Word Wise : Enabled
Print Length : 352 pages
Publisher : Vintage (October 6, 2010)
Publication Date : October 6, 2010

"Meet your Enemy Number One," a nervous Norwegian diplomat said to Uri Savir, the young director-general of Israel's Foreign Ministry, as he introduced him to Abu Ala, one of Yasser Arafat's top aides. They were in Oslo, and this was the first official encounter between Israel and the PLO. The atmosphere was tense. Savir read from prepared notes: "The aim of Israel's elected government," he began, "is to bring about a historic reconciliation with the Palestinian people. We have no interest in only a cosmetic change of the status quo. It is not our wish to control your lives. . . ."
          For more than half a century, both sides had denied the other's right to exist; both had sustained a terrible toll. Yet in the three years that followed that first encounter, after thousands of hours of subtle and complex secret negotiations, they hammered out the blueprint for a peaceful conclusion to a conflict that had seemed irre-
concilable. This book is the Israeli chief negotiator's extraordinary account of those negotiations, their implementation and aftermath, and of the un-
likely partnership that emerged between Yitz-
hak Rabin, Yasser Arafat, and Shimon Peres.
           As the process initiated at Oslo began to re-
shape allegiances throughout the Middle East, Israeli and Palestinian extremists set out to violently destroy what they described as "the threat of peace." This is the inside story of the race between those committed to reconciliation and those who vowed to destroy the peace. It is also a poignant story of the developing relationship between Savir and Abu Ala, both from Jeru-
salem, both committed to their people, to their land, and to peace.
            Will the peace process initiated at Oslo prevail against the assault of extremists and enemies of peace on both sides? The answer to this question, and the future of the peace process, is crucial not just to Israel and the Palestinians, but to the Middle East and the world.



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Matthew Smith
5.0 out of 5 stars Important for the insider's perspective
Reviewed in the United States on October 29, 2011
These types of books are very important because they give the reader a different perspective of the history. While it is true that many times the authors are too close to the actual history they are writing about to give a complete account, what they do is add to the histories giving readers a broader perspective and thus a more complete understanding of the events and the people who shaped them. This account gives the reader the personal point of view of one of the most important and involved negotiators in the Olso process from the Israeli side.

For me this human element was very essential to my reorienting my understanding of the Oslo process, especially as regards the Israeli side. My previous view was very cynical as regards both the PLO (Arafat in particular) and the Israelis. Arafat was distant, weak and losing relevance inside the territories to the internal leadership and the intafada. The Oslo negotiations were his way back into relevance, whereas the Israelis saw a weakened Arafat as an opportunity to hash out an agreement that would secure their main interests at the front end while relegating the Palestinians' interests to negotiations to be determined on the back end. I originally saw Oslo as a cynical power play by the Israelis to extract the most advantage from the Palestinians while giving up very little.

In reading this book though, it is obvious how much the participants were really looking for an historic deal to take place that would improve the lives of both Israelis and Palestinians, and when the author takes the reader inside the room during these discussions one becomes privy to just how enormously complicated this process was. This is the aspect of the book that opened my eyes the most. It is that, not only were there complicated discussions about land, resources, protection forces and very difficult cooperation arrangments, but that these negotiations were set against the backdrop of one hundred years of animus, conflict, war, occupation, propaganda and two conflicting and mutually exclusive national narratives. This the reader gets to see first hand how the mistrust and historical grievances affect every aspect of the negotiations.

This book also, in an oblique way, goes along way in explaining why Oslo failed. Both sides failed to prepare their people for the long road that lay ahead. The Israelis particularly failed to brace their public for the ebb and flow that this process was bound to produce, instead Oslo was touted as the process that would change the Israelis' lives in a single bound. Instead of bracing the public for the inevitable backlash from extremists, on both sides, they raised Oslo to heights it couldn't attain so soon, and when the inevitable violence did occur Labor was not prepared to deal with fall out from right. They set expectations too high, and then instead of having an adult conversation with their people they laid the blame on Arafat thus undercutting their partner as well as their own platform by undermining that partner. It was a tragic failing.

Another aspect I find so strange among Israeli analysts and negotiators, such as this author, is how they can be so good at analyzing Arafat and his style of governing on the tactical level, but then turn around and be so bad at applying this same skill to the strategic level. I have found this to be the case in every account I have ever read from Israelis on the inside. This author discusses in perfect detail, on the tactical level, how Arafat conducted these negotiations in that he was a leader through patronage and not an iron fisted dictator. Finding one of his men becoming too important or influential he would replace him with someone else to reassert his authority and assure no one would become a rival. This style made the negotiations extremely difficult as Arafat would reshuffle the teams as his needs dictated. The author was very good at analyzing how this method of governance hurt the negotiations and made continuity almost impossible, but as always when the author pulls back form the tactical and discusses the strategic aspects of Arafat's rule he forgets everything he just discussed and describes Arafat as if he is an all powerful leader that controls with an iron fist. He describes Arafats failure to put a stop to extremists like Hamas and IJ as if Arafat did not have to concern himself with popular opinion. I have never understood this dichotomy between the strategic and tactical analysis.

The last point I find telling about these negotiations is Rabin's utter refusal to go up against the settler movement at all. The fact that he wouldn't even discuss the removal of the settlements in Hebron and even made their security a priority over the Palestinians need to administer one of its largest cities shows a lack of seriousness on the part of the Israeli government. These are points that force me to remain cynical about the Israeli governments true intentions for the end game to the Oslo process. If they refused to entertain the removal of even the most unrealistic of Israeli settlements, how are we to believe that they were serious about an end that would be even remotely acceptable to the Palestinians?

While I remain cynical about the top leadership of both sides, what this book, and others like it, have done is to show me that there are many people honestly striving for a just and equitable solution to these complex problems. It showed me the reality of how difficult it is to take pragmatic steps when these issues are so terribly enmeshed in religious, ideological and historical concerns as well. While I remain cynical, it still gives me hope to see honest people striving and working so diligently for solutions to these problems. I recommend this book.
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Barry Smith
4.0 out of 5 stars Good Israeli perspective!
Reviewed in the United States on June 10, 2002
Uri Savir, who played a key role in the secret Oslo negotiations that occurred during the early 1990's, wrote this book describing his experience in the peace talks. Savir does a remarkable job of detailing the behind-the-scene dealings that occured while the public was kept (in the early parts of the negotiations) in the dark. However, my one main complaint, and this is probably unavoidable on his part, is that it is blatantly from an Israeli perspective. While he always speaks of his Arab counterparts in friendly terms, Savir shows his ignorance of their point of view in several places. I say this cultural naivete is unavoidable because throughout the history of the Arab-Israeli conflict, there has been, sometimes on purpose, a recurring theme of refusing to see the conflict through the Arab perspective. It is naturally impossible for one culture of people to sympathize with another group of people. So I commend Savir for his behind-the-scenes analysis, but be careful of his subtle Israeli point of view/bias.
3 people found this helpful
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Ian K O'Malley
5.0 out of 5 stars An Insider's Look
Reviewed in the United States on December 10, 2000
Uri Savir provides an unmatched view of the ever troublesome attempted peace process between the Israeli's and Palestinians. Savir, an Israeli Foreign Minister, provides a very balanced portrayal of the events that led up to the historic Oslo Peace agreements and the period through Rabin's assignation. The book reads as a personal journal but is well documented of the events surrounding this three year period. If you are interested in the Arab-Israeli conflict or the intricacies and absurdities of international diplomacy this book is a must.
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THE PROCESS

1,100 DAYS THAT CHANGED THE MIDDLE EAST

Aleading Israeli diplomat’s insider view of the intricate negotiations between his country and the Palestinians from May 1993, four months before the conclusion of the Oslo agreement, through May 1996 and the election of Benjamin Netanyahu as prime minister. Savir, former Israeli consul-general in New York, became director general of his country’s Foreign Ministry under the late Yitzhak Rabin. When it became apparent that the secret Oslo talks begun in early 1993 had a real potential for a diplomatic breakthrough, he was named head of the Jewish state’s negotiations with the PLO, and then the Palestinian Authority, during the three-year period he chronicles. Norwegian mediators half-jokingly, half-seriously introduced his Palestinian counterpart, Abu Ala, to Savir as “your enemy number one.” The two often conveyed sharply conflicting views and instructions from their superiors, yet not only learned how to work together but developed a deep respect, even fondness, for each other. Savir is most revealing in relating how fraught with basic national yearnings and symbolism even the most seemingly technical issues became. The Israelis were desperate for security and an end to terror, the Palestinians equally insistent on not being condescended to or humiliated by the Israelis, and upon a recognition of the trappings of a national identity. Savir also writes with an admirable capacity to criticize Israeli leaders in a thoughtful and restrained way. For example, concerning Israel’s closure of the Gaza and West Bank borders and its concomitant focus on Arafat’s inadequate efforts to combat Palestinian terrorists, he acknowledges that “we tended to be so focused on the Palestinian leadership that we often failed to see Palestinian society as a community of needs and aspirations that its leaders must serve and reflect.” Passages like this will make Savir open to charges of not being a hard-headed enough diplomat and historian; others will rightfully praise him for possessing the skilled negotiator’s necessary qualities of empathy, vision, and an ability to compromise.


CHAPTER ONE

The Process

1,100 Days That Changed the Middle East

By URI SAVIR

Random House

 Read the Review


A FIRST ENCOUNTER


For me, it all began on May 14, 1993, a balmy Saturday afternoon, when my boss, Israel's Foreign Minister Shimon Peres, asked me to his official residence in Jerusalem. (He had recently appointed me director-general of the Foreign Ministry, an appointment that caused a commotion since I was only forty at the time.) Dressed in a British cardigan, Peres was relaxed as I entered his living room. Avi Gil, his wise chief of staff, was already seated on one of the comfortable sofas. I sat down opposite him.


    "A glass of wine?" Peres asked. I nodded, he poured, and as he handed me the glass he asked dryly, "How about a weekend in Oslo?" as though he were offering cheese and crackers.


    "Excuse me?" I mumbled, straining to suppress my excitement. I knew that Oslo meant a first official talk with the PLO. For five months, two Israeli academics, Yair Hirschfeld and Ron Pundak, had been secretly and informally talking with three senior PLO officials: Ahmed Qurei (Abu Ala), Hassan Asfour, and Maher al-Kurd, all close associates of Yasser Arafat. These secret talks had been initiated by Israel's deputy foreign minister, my close friend Dr. Yossi Beilin, an ardent peace advocate. In mid-1992 Beilin had joined forces with Terje Larsen, a Norwegian social scientist who headed FAFO, a major European peace research institute. Larsen was conducting a study of Palestinian living conditions in the occupied territories. He and Beilin had set up the informal talks between the two professors and the three PLO men, which had begun in Norway on January 20. Their aim was to draft an informal document on the basic principles for future peacemaking between Israel and the Palestinians.


    In these talks, the Palestinians--especially Abu Ala, their senior representative--advanced some surprisingly flexible positions, far more practical than the legalistic tangles created by the "non-PLO" delegation in Washington, made up solely of Palestinians from the occupied territories, which had been holding formal negotiations with us since the 1991 Madrid Peace Conference. These Washington talks had been going nowhere for months. At one point Avi Gil sent Peres, Beilin, and me a collection of reports on the Washington talks with the dates whited out. Because the talks had gone around in circles, none of us could put them in order. Later, in Oslo, Abu Ala would emphasize two key elements for our secret talks that impressed us: a pragmatic progression from easier to more difficult issues, which would allow for the development of trust between the parties; and Palestinian-Israeli cooperation, mainly in the economic field. The contrast between the two styles suggested that Arafat was sending us a definite message: the Washington talks would grind on endlessly, but in Oslo, where the PLO was officially represented, he was prepared to compromise. We believed, therefore, that the time had come to risk a test.


    Peres sat down next to Avi Gil and began to describe his most recent conversations on the subject with Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin.


    "I told Yitzhak that the peace process is in danger of collapsing, even though the ground is fertile for progress," he said.


    We had often discussed this paradox. The Middle East had changed in the previous five years. The Soviet Union, a longtime patron of various radical Arab rulers, had disintegrated. Moreover, the Arab world itself had fragmented after the Iran-Iraq war. Religious fundamentalism, which thrives on poverty, was now a serious threat to most of the regimes in the region--especially in the case of Iran, which was exporting terror and developing nonconventional weapons. As a result, economic development had become more important to those Arab governments than traditional strategic considerations. The United States was being courted by almost every country in the area, and a demonstration of stability was the only way to attract serious economic investment and American political involvement.


    Many Arabs had begun to view Israel as a potential partner in their endeavors. The Palestinians understood that years of terrorism and the intifada (the violent uprising in the West Bank and Gaza Strip that started in 1987) had brought them neither political nor economic gains. The PLO, in fact, seemed on the verge of bankruptcy. Now that the Gulf War had upset regional political alignments, the next step was an Arab readiness to negotiate with Israel. This led to the 1991 Madrid Peace Conference and the subsequent Washington negotiations.


    Yet the talks were stalled. The ideologically and politically rigid Syrians were moving very slowly if at all. The Jordanians had signaled that until a breakthrough had occurred with the Palestinians, they too would continue to wait. And so the Palestinians, the weakest link in the chain, were the key to peace. The problem in Washington was that Faisal Husseini, the West Bank leader, and the rest of his delegation lacked a mandate to negotiate. Every point we raised with them had to be referred back to the PLO leadership. Though we would never admit it openly, we were engaged in a charade. In Washington, we were actually negotiating with Yasser Arafat by fax!


    "It's clear who's running the Palestinian show there," Peres continued. "I've told Rabin that I'm prepared to go to Oslo, meet secretly with their envoys, and test the PLO's true intentions. We're committed to moving this forward, and it's pointless to waste time in Washington by pretending that the PLO isn't there.


    "Rabin, too, seems fed up with the Washington talks," Peres told me, "but he feels that it's premature for a minister to become involved with the PLO. He prefers that a senior official go to Oslo, and we decided you'd be the man."


    I leaned forward to reply, but Peres said, "Wait, there's more. Rabin insists on two conditions: absolute discretion and the resumption of the talks in Washington, which must remain the main channel of negotiations. You're to send this message to the Palestinians through the Norwegian mediators. Be sure to stress that if word of the meeting is leaked, the Oslo channel will come to an end."


    As for matters of substance at Olso, Peres authorized me to raise three issues. "Above all, the Palestinians must agree that Jerusalem will not be included in any autonomy arrangement; otherwise, further progress will be impossible," he said. "Second, they must drop their traditional demand that all outstanding questions be referred to binding international arbitration. We don't want to introduce another Security Council mechanism. The point is to learn to solve our problems on our own. Finally, there's the notion of creating autonomy in Gaza first and possibly moving the PLO leadership there."


    Peres had long been in favor of testing Palestinian autonomy in Gaza before extending it to the West Bank. In November 1992 he had already raised such a proposal with President Hosni Mubarak of Egypt, who passed it on to Arafat. The PLO seemed amenable to the idea in principle, but Arafat wanted the addition of Jericho and control of the passage over the Jordan River: in other words, a foothold on the West Bank and a direct link with Jordan. Rabin, however, was reluctant to add Jericho to the first phase and absolutely refused to relinquish control of the bridge over the Jordan (or the border passage between Gaza and Egypt, for that matter). Everything relating to the external security of Israel and the territories, he insisted, must remain in Israeli hands. Israel must have complete control of its current borders.


    "So you should certainly air the idea of 'Gaza first,'" Peres told me, "but don't commit us to the addition of Jericho. As to the draft of a declaration of principles drawn up with Pundak and Hirschfeld, you may explore the issues, but don't start negotiating the document itself. We'll decide how to proceed after you return. Is everything clear?" he asked with uncharacteristic sternness.


    I nodded.


    "Then good luck," he said, which was even less characteristic; Peres preferred to leave nothing to luck.


Within two days the Norwegians sent word that our two conditions for holding the next meeting in Oslo--absolute secrecy and the resumption of the Washington talks--had been accepted by the PLO, and I was studying the existing material on the Oslo track. On Peres's orders, I made all my travel arrangements through Beilin's bureau and told my personal staff that I would be holding economic talks in Paris and would then probably join my wife, Aliza, at the Cannes Film Festival (as the head of the Foreign Ministry's Cultural Division, she was representing our government there). I told my mother I was going abroad and elaborated no further. I did hint to my daughter, however, that this was to be no routine journey. Maya, who had just completed two years of compulsory army service, was strongly pro-peace. Since the age of four, she had been accompanying us to peace demonstrations and had adopted our belief in the desirability of a dialogue with the PLO. Though I couldn't tell her the purpose of my journey, I wanted her to sense that one of our dreams was about to come true.


    "This trip is an important one," I remarked offhandedly a day or two before leaving.


    "Oh?" she said, her curiosity piqued. "How important?"


    "The most important," I said--and I believed she understood.


    Finally I paid a private visit to Yossi Beilin at his home. Together we had looked forward to this moment ever since the days, in the mid-1980s, when Peres was first prime minister and we were jokingly known as the Blazers, five young, highly motivated aides with a penchant for dark blue sport jackets. (Yossi, who had worked with Peres since 1977, was then the cabinet secretary, and I had been plucked out of Israel's New York consulate in 1984 to serve as Peres's spokesman.) I felt uneasy that I was going to Oslo and Yossi was not. After all, he had created the secret back channel, at no small risk to his standing. Yossi assured me, however, that he was delighted. Like Peres, he was already envisioning the future.


On Friday, May 20, I boarded an El Al flight to Paris. After takeoff I made some notes to guide me in my opening statement. Then I reread some of the material from the ministry's Research Department, including a brief profile of Ahmed Qurei (Abu Ala), known as the PLO finance minister, the fifty-six-year-old man I was to meet that evening. A banker by training, he was in charge of the Palestinian bank, Samed, as well as various organs that funded economic and social activities in the West Bank. He had been born in Abu Dis, just outside Jerusalem, but since the 1967 war he had lived in the Persian Gulf, Beirut, Cyprus, and Tunis. He had known Arafat for some thirty years, advised him on economic matters, and been a member of Fatah since 1968. He worked closely with Abu Mazen (Mahmoud Abbas), who for the previous five years had been in charge of the PLO's unofficial contacts with Israelis. Our analysis described Abu Ala as an astute pragmatist. He had been guiding the Palestinian involvement in the Multilateral Talks since the Madrid Peace Conference--orchestrating but not participating, since the PLO was formally excluded from the negotiations. He would sit in a hotel room and tell the "non-PLO" people what to say. But as far as we were concerned, he wasn't there.


    I wondered whether this man had been directly involved in any of the PLO terror operations against Israel. The profile didn't suggest it, but I couldn't help speculating on whether he had known about the plan to kill Israeli athletes at the Munich Olympics, or about the attacks on Israeli schools in Ma'alot and Kiryat Shmonah, where scores of children had been murdered. My mind was racing with thoughts about bloodshed, the occupation, the thirst for peace, the upcoming meeting. It was proving to be a tiring journey, and I hadn't even completed the first leg.


I landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport at 11:00 A.M., to be greeted by Yitzhak Eldan, the minister in our Paris embassy. As he accompanied me to the Baltimore hotel on the Rue Kleber, I explained that I was going to Cannes to join my wife and suggested that we have dinner when I returned to the hotel on Saturday night. When he finally left me in the lobby, I dashed up to my room, rumpled the bedspread and blanket, threw some towels on the floor, and hung the Ne pas derangez, S.V.P. sign on the door. Then I hurried down to the street and caught a cab back to de Gaulle. Waiting for me there, at precisely the appointed spot, stood Ron Pundak, looking conspicuously conspiratorial. Ron's short-cropped hair and John Lennon glasses give him a boyish air. He's also blessed with a mixture of typical Israeli directness and a sharp analytical mind. On the flight to Copenhagen, Ron described our Palestinian interlocutors, stressing their courage, moderation, and bonhomie. Clearly he was hoping that I would mirror all these traits, and I felt I was being tested for acceptance in an exclusive club.


    In Copenhagen, where we were booked on the six o'clock SAS flight to Oslo, we ran headlong into a group of Iranians at the boarding gate. I shot Ron a cautionary glance. He looked knowingly back; then we both burst into laughter at the suspicion we Israelis carry everywhere. Not that it was mere paranoia. The threat of fundamentalist terrorism sponsored by Iran was justifiably on our minds and would become the main counterweight to the entire peace process. But since the men were speaking Parsi, without a hint of circumspection, the odds were that they were not plotting to kill us. They were simply peaceful travelers on their way to Norway.


    Descending to Oslo, we were treated to an exquisite collage of deep blue sea, rugged mountains, red-tiled roofs, and lush green forests. As we filed out of the plane, at the end of the jetway stood Yair Hirschfeld, grinning broadly. With his wild brown beard, untamed hair, and bemused expression, Yair looked like a typical Viennese intellectual of the 1920s. Next to him, wearing a light overcoat and fifties-style sunglasses, stood a tall, rather dapper man in his late forties who could easily have passed for a French detective film hero but was actually Terje Larsen, a social scientist, serious intellectual, and committed humanist with a rare taste for complexity--a man, I soon discerned, of many talents. What would gratify me most as time went on, however, were his extraordinary psychological skills, which he exercised with almost saintly Norwegian patience. Even the most daunting setback usually left him unfazed, and he was to play a critical role in easing many crises ahead.


    Terje went to work immediately. As he led us into the VIP room, where our passports were stamped for the only time in the three months of talks to come (thereafter, Norwegian secret service agents enabled us to dispense with the formality), he was already briefing us on procedures. We would leave the terminal through the rear exit and be driven to the "safe house" about half an hour from town where Mona Juul--Terje's wife and a successful diplomat-would bring the Palestinians. Our car was driven by a member of the FAF0 Institute staff. We enjoyed the company of two secret service escorts. Everything had been planned down to the minute.


    On our way into the mountains, while I was trying to decipher Norwegian road signs, Terje was indoctrinating me into the spirit of the talks--the "Oslo spirit," he called it. He evidently considered me a staid young technocrat, perhaps too stiff for the mission at hand. He explained that humor was an important element in the talks, and that the interchange should be informal, as it had been so far with the two professors. For Terje, the essence of the Oslo channel was to come up with creative solutions by a process of free thinking, not traditional hard-nosed bargaining. He believed that the relaxed Norwegian atmosphere would have an osmotic impact on the talks and hoped we could achieve a blend between Oslo and Jerusalem.


    "The Palestinians are as excited as children," he said, in an attempt to shatter stereotypes. I understood what he was doing but was far too nervous to try to convince him of that. Finally we arrived at the small Hejti Lodge, an official guesthouse. We sat for a few moments without uttering a word. Then there was a ceremonial knock on the door, and in walked Mona, carrying her femininity with disarming grace. She was followed by the three Palestinians, who filed slowly into the hallway where Yair, Ron, and I stood as if we were in an official reception line (though of the three Israelis, I was the only one wearing a dark suit and tie). Then Abu Ala was standing directly in front of me.


    "Meet your Enemy Number One, Ahmed Qurei, better known as Abu Ala," said Terje.


    I was surprised by the man's appearance. Comfortably middle-aged, he wore thick-lensed glasses that failed to hide his penetrating glance. He too was dressed formally and looked to me more like a European businessman than the underground leader I had expected.


    "Pleased to meet you," he and I muttered, aware of the significance of our unprecedented gesture as we shook hands while eyeing each other nervously.


    The room fell quiet for a second before Terje continued, "Now meet your Enemy Number Two, Hassan Asfour."


    With shining eyes and an aloof, somewhat resentful expression, Asfour was a reformed Communist who had spent time in a Syrian jail and joined George Habash's radical Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine before becoming a political adviser to Arafat's close associate Abu Mazen (who was monitoring these talks from Tunis). As I came to know him, he often seemed torn between two unshakable convictions: his certainty of Israel's abiding arrogance, and his faith in the possibility of attaining peace.


    "Enemy Number Three" was introduced to me as Maher al-Kurd, a tall, forthright, yet extremely polite man who brought to mind a German schoolmaster. Indeed, he had studied at an East German university before becoming an economic adviser to Arafat.


    The ice thawed a bit as Ron and Yair embraced the three Palestinians, with whom they had been partners for five months. Terje showed us into the wood-paneled lounge. Our initial exchange was a painful attempt at small talk.


    "I left Tel Aviv at six-thirty this morning," I offered.


    "We left Tunis yesterday," Abu Ala replied.


    We could find nothing more to say.


    Taking his cue from the awkward lull, Terje stood up, removed his jacket, and invited us to do the same, but this attempt to ease the atmosphere failed. It was then that Terje decided to leave us. "I'll be downstairs," he said, abruptly making for the door. "If you can't get along on your own, call me."


Thus alone in the Norwegian night, we took our places at opposite sides of a narrow wooden table. After a few strained, silent moments, I began rummaging in my briefcase for the notes I had written on the plane. Then, for the one and only time in the three years of talks that followed, I read from prepared notes. I wanted to be sure that our message reached Tunis precisely, and the Palestinians duly took down my words.


    I began by expressing satisfaction that we were able to speak face to face and thanked them all for the work they had done in the preparatory talks. "The aim of Israel's elected government," I explained, "is to bring about a historic reconciliation with the Palestinian people. We have no interest in only a cosmetic change of the status quo. It is not our wish to control your lives. Our interest is in peace, in security, and, together with you, in leading the way to regional peace." The occupation, I told my listeners, had been forced upon Israel in 1967. "Our moral aim is to free ourselves from that condition in a way that will ensure the Palestinians freedom and provide Israel with security."


    That much clarified, I presented the two conditions Rabin and Peres had insisted on. Above all, I stressed that Palestinian autonomy could not extend to Jerusalem. "Jerusalem is the center of our national ethos, and if that is open to negotiation, no progress can be made. As to outside arbitration, you must decide whether we are to act as partners, and solve all our differences through dialogue, or request Security Council-like arbitration and end up with a pile of resolutions that will remain no more than numbers. If you agree to these two conditions, I can recommend to Prime Minister Rabin and Foreign Minister Peres that we work to explore a declaration of principles that will be acceptable to both sides."


    Finally, I explained that the guideline for the eventual negotiations should be to advance in stages and that it would be best to agree that the first political change should be effected in the Gaza Strip. I did not mention Jericho.


    "For our part, the stress must be on security, and naturally the PLO will have to cease all terror operations. There is also great potential for economic cooperation, and this we must translate into deeds. This is a historic opportunity for all of us," I concluded. "It must not be wasted."


    Abu Ala straightened up in his chair, readying himself to make his own opening statement. Outside, the midnight sun still cast a dim glow as he began.


    "My colleagues and I, as well as our leadership in Tunis, are very pleased that our negotiations have finally reached an official stage. We have done important work with our friends Yair and Ron." (I noticed that they smiled as they continued taking notes.) "I would like you to convey to your leaders that our intentions--particularly those of our chairman, Yasser Arafat--are serious."


    Upon hearing Arafat's name, so long the symbol of hostility to Israel, I felt an odd sensation--it was at first hard to think of him as a person to contend with. As though reading my thoughts, Abu Ala continued, "There's no chance of advancing toward peace without the PLO and its leaders. No one else can speak for the Palestinian people with authority and legitimacy.


    "We want to live with you in peace," he said, with obvious seriousness. "We want to cooperate with you toward developing the region; encouraging the creation of a Marshall Plan for the Middle East; developing our economies, so that we can open the doors to the Arab world for you and to freedom for ourselves. The situation in the occupied territories is desperate, politically and economically. Time is running out."


    Abu Ala conceded that the Washington talks were at an impasse but promised that they would go on. As to the two substantive conditions I had laid down, he explained that he would have to consult with Tunis. "But as for security," he assured us, "I have specific instructions from Arafat to accommodate you on every aspect of this matter."


    He paused for a moment and then, speaking to me directly, said, "Tell me, Mr. Savir, I have heard Israel's statements that you view the PLO as an existential threat. I would like to understand. Israel is a regional power and, according to the international press, a nuclear one as well. You have the finest air force in the world, a huge number of tanks, the most effective intelligence network in the world, one of the largest and most renowned armies. You call us terrorists. We call ourselves freedom fighters and have only a few Kalashnikovs, some grenades, jeeps, and stones. Would you please explain to me how we pose an existential threat to you, and not the other way around?"


    Abu Ala, having succinctly made his case--the Palestinians were David, and Israel was Goliath--smiled. In time I came to understand that the Palestinians' perception of the balance of power was much as he had described it: a dwarf facing down a giant. As in so many conflicts, each side considered itself the victim.


    I reflected briefly and told him: "You are a threat, because you want to live in my home. In my house."


    "Where are your from?" he asked.


    "Jerusalem," I replied.


    "So am I," he continued, somberly. "Where is your father from?


    "He was born in Germany."


    "Mine was born in Jerusalem and still lives there."


    "Why don't you ask about my grandfathers and their forebears? We could go back to King David," I said, making no effort to hide my anger. "I'm sure we can debate the past for years and never agree. Let's see if we can agree about the future."


    "Fine," he said, barely above a mumble.


    We had arrived at our first understanding. Never again would we argue about the past. This was an important step, for it moved us beyond an endless wrangle over right and wrong. Discussing the future would mean reconciling two rights, not readdressing ancient wrongs.


    "I'd like to return to the point you raised about our security, as it stands today," I said.


    I placed a sheet of yellow paper on the table and began drawing, as well as I could, a map of Israel, the occupied territories, and then, in the proper proportion, the Arab world surrounding us.


    "You Palestinians have rejected our existence as a state," I continued. "From the moment of Israel's rebirth, you rallied the entire Arab world to fight us. This," I said, tapping my finger on the map, "is the true security equation."


    I leaned back, satisfied that I had established who the real David was in this conflict. Abu Ala was businesslike in his reply.


    "I believe we've arrived at the root of the problem," he said. "We have learned that our rejection of you will not bring us freedom. You can see that your control of us will not bring you security. We must live side by side in peace, equality, and cooperation. This is also the view of our leadership in Tunis."


    "In principle, I agree," I said, attempting to establish common ground. "We need to progress in stages, forging a new context for relations in which peace, security, and economic development can evolve together. What we need is a new road map to lead us to a state of trust." I reminded Abu Ala that many Israelis despised the PLO and doubted the credibility of its leadership. "But we are serious about turning over a new leaf and gradually building trust. We can start by working on the draft prepared in your talks with Yair and Ron. But first I must have your response on Jerusalem and arbitration. And," I added, pausing for effect, "it's absolutely essential that our talks remain secret. Any leak will make this channel politically untenable."


    Abu Ala laughed. "You don't have to worry about us. It's your newspapers we're concerned about. They know things before they even happen," he teased, alluding to the transparency of Israeli political life. He then suggested that we break so that he could contact Tunis and report on our conversation.


(C) 1998 Uri Savir All rights reserved. ISBN: 0-679-42296-X

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