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Post-Oslo, Post-Arafat
By Sunni M. Khalid
20/12/2001
There is a growing realization within the Middle East that bloody street confrontations, which began 15 months ago in the West Bank, the Gaza Strip and in Arab communities inside Israel proper, will continue indefinitely. Arguments about whether the Al-Aqsa Intifadah began spontaneously, or whether it was partially orchestrated, are irrelevant. It is clear that present Israeli-Palestinian confrontations long ago acquired a self-generating momentum.
New Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon quickly adopted the practice of his predecessor, Ehud Barak, by continuing to place the onus for the continuing bloodshed on Palestinian Authority (P.A.) President Yasser Arafat. He has defiantly refused to take any responsibility for his own actions. Sharon's heavily-protected visit to East Jerusalem's Haram al-Sharif, Islam's third holiest site, was the event which many observers say sparked the crisis and led to his election as Israel's fourth prime minister in five years.
The prevailing contention of Israel's political leadership that Arafat was no longer a "partner for peace," however, may have arguably become a political fact, whose dimensions may be dangerously borne out in the coming weeks and months.
Since the crisis began, Arafat has tried to shore up his flagging popularity by reaching out to groups such as the Islamic Resistance Movement, or Hamas, and Islamic Jihad. This may offer him only a temporary respite; his condition already appears terminal. What we may have witnessed in recent weeks is not only an end of the Oslo peace process, but the political demise of Yasser Arafat - and the start of a far more dangerous round of political uncertainty and instability.
Arafat's unwillingness, or more likely, his inability, to control the protest uprising of his people to Israel's continued occupation and domination of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip has underscored his irrelevance.
Simply put, the enigmatic Arafat is no longer indispensable; he can neither satisfy Israel's security demands, nor end the continued Israeli occupation and domination of the Palestinians. Arafat cannot move backward by ending the uprising, or forward, by guiding the Palestinians to statehood, nor can he hope to survive by "running in place."
At 73, the aging and ailing Arafat's physical demise may be much closer than anyone realizes. Those who have had close access to the Palestinian Authority leader in recent months have been startled by what they've seen. They describe a mentally plodding man who is both unresponsive and inattentive.
The wily former guerrilla leader, who survived "Black September" in Amman more than 30 years ago and the unrelenting Israeli siege of Beirut in 1982, has aged visibly and ungracefully. U.S. State Department officials have concluded that Arafat has been virtually paralyzed since the beginning of the current Intifadah, as befuddled as the Israeli leaders are to find a way out of the worsening crisis.
Besides a few pro-forma public statements, the P.A. appears leaderless, rudderless and clueless. Arafat's own Fatah movement is splintering, with a handful of eager new leaders taking the lead, running their own agendas with, or without, Arafat's approval. Always long on tactics and short on strategic vision, Arafat appears incapable of speaking to his people or exercising effective leadership over an increasingly incoherent Palestinian Authority.
Clearly, Arafat's days are numbered. In the past two years, four of Arafat's contemporaries - Jordan's King Hussein, Bahrain's Emir Sheikh Isa bin al-Khalifah, Morocco's King Hassan II and Syria's President Hafez al-Assad - have all passed from the scene.
Not having "Abu Ammar" (as Arafat is popularly known) around for the Israeli, American and Arab leaders to conveniently "kick around" any more, however, creates a severe political dilemma for the Palestinians, Israelis, the U.S.-led peace process, and perhaps the entire Mideast region.
Firstly, there is a leadership vacuum that Arafat's exit immediately creates. Unlike Syria, Jordan, Morocco and Bahrain, the Palestinian Authority has no designated successor or line of political succession. This makes the present political situation even more unstable and problematic for all involved.
As in many regions of the world, any public or private discussion about political succession or the health of a leader or head of state is strongly discouraged, most often under the threat of imprisonment. But the situation between Israel and the Palestinians is already so grave, and likely to grow even worse in the immediate future, that the tough question of political succession is not an issue that can be confined solely to Israeli or American politics.
Since the start of the Madrid process in 1991, Arafat has dealt with three U.S. presidents, and no less than six Israeli prime ministers. Shifts in policy have ranged from the subtle to the extreme, yet the respective U.S. and Israeli leaderships consistently supported the peace process. What's more, they wielded power over established, accountable and well-defined political systems.
On the other hand, Arafat's Palestinian Authority has been virtually a one-man show. It's greatest strength, Arafat's international persona, has also been its greatest organizational weakness. And for these very reasons, Arafat's departure may be the largest problem looming over the prospects for peace in the Middle East. His death or incapacitation will almost certainly throw the modern Palestinian national movement into an indefinite upheaval, raising still more questions as to the viability of the Palestinian Authority, and perhaps foreclosing any possibility of a permanent peace agreement with Israel.
A short list of Arafat's possible successors presents sobering choices for Palestinians.
There is Arafat's unofficial second-in-command, Mahmoud Abbas, also known as Abu Mazen. One of the architect's of the increasingly discredited Oslo accords, Abu Mazen lacks even Abu Ammar's lagging credibility and his unique brand of charisma. In chronically bad health for the past few years, Abu Mazen, also in his 70s, has made it clear that he doesn't want to succeed Arafat.
Another possible contender is the affable and rotund Ahmed Qurei, known as "Abu Ala," Arafat's top negotiator with Israel and the speaker of the Palestinian Legislative Assembly, the emasculated Palestinian parliament. His strong identification with Arafat, and the excesses of the PA, are a political liability. He has little popularity among grassroot groups and he is seen as being part of the corrupt, exile elite that has ruled the Palestinians since Arafat's return.
Nabil Shaath has resurfaced as part of Arafat's main negotiators. He was part of the Palestinians local leadership collective, which emerged as part of the original Intifadah. Although he has some domestic support, especially among grassroots Palestinian constituency in Gaza, he is considered an "outsider" within the higher ranks of the Palestinian Authority because he was not part of the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO) leadership during its long years of exile in Amman, Beirut and Tunis.
All three of these men, however, are bureaucrats with little popularity in their own right. They are also at a disadvantage if they are in direct competition for leadership against those who hold the gun - the leaders of Arafat's considerable state security apparatus, which includes nine separate agencies and as many as three well-armed Fatah party militias.
The top-heavy security establishment is a manifestation of how little Arafat trusts his own people, or what little trust he places in any individual or institution. In the past, Arafat has played these semi-autonomous parties off against each other, while ensuring their cooperation with their Israeli security counterparts in keeping a lid on armed attacks by groups such as Hamas and the smaller Islamic Jihad.
Instead of training their guns on their own people, many of the 40,000-strong security forces have fired them on Israeli security forces in recent months, participating and taking advantage of a wave of anti-Israeli street protests. They are no longer a solely a police force, or simply Arafat's praetorian guard.
The security forces have reverted to their army origins, taking the fight to the Israelis not from across the Jordan River, southern Lebanon or Syria, but in the streets and countryside of the West Bank, Gaza and Israel proper. This force will not, perhaps cannot, be easily reined in, even if Arafat or a successor desires.
Riding on the crest of public outrage in Palestinian-ruled areas, the security forces appear well positioned to effectively wrest formal control of the leadership of the P.A.'s quasi-authority in the post-Arafat era.
Among the most prominent securocrats to emerge are Mohamed Dahlan, head of the Palestinian Preventive Security in the Gaza Strip; former PLO guerrilla leader Jubril Rajoub, Dahlan's colleague in the West Bank; notorious Gaza police commander Nasser Yousef; and Marwan Barghouti, a high-profile leader of Tanzim, the 2,000 strong paramilitary youth brigade of Arafat's own Fatah party. Barghouti, who played a leading role in the previous Intifadah (1987-1991), has re-emerged to take an even more visible role during the current one. While all of these officials command the allegiance of thousands of men under arms, none of them are considered democrats.
In fact, nearly all of these securocrats have been accused by various human rights groups of numerous violations - including routine torture, mass arrests of dissidents without charge, as well as creating the dreaded Israeli-styled special security courts. None inspire much confidence among the Palestinians.
Palestinian security chiefs are a "known quantity" to both Israel and U.S. intelligence and security establishments, with whom they have worked closely. There is a relative element of trust that remains from such a relationship, which may play a role in the post-Arafat era.
Until that time, these men owe their positions to Arafat, who have erected a security edifice to quell and satisfy Israel security concerns and any real or perceived challenges to Arafat's dictatorial and corrupt rule from groups such as Hamas and Islamic Jihad, as well as civil society groups, grassroots organizations and organized labor.
Notably absent from the list of serious possible successors are elderly Gaza physician Dr. Haider Abdul-Shafi, once the chief Palestinian negotiator but now an eloquent and widely-respected critic of Arafat and the Oslo accords; Hanan Ashrawi, the telegenic former cabinet minister and former Palestinian spokesperson, who has also harshly criticized Arafat; Jerusalemite Faisal Husseini, who runs the PLO's Orient House in East Jerusalem; and Saeb Erekat, former Bir Zeit University professor and Arafat negotiator.
Each has considerable drawbacks, however.
Dr. Abdel-Shafi, considered by many as the sage conscience of the Palestinian movement, is in his 80s. While he does not lack the intellectual stamina for leadership, his physical resolve and the political appetite are wanting.
While being a woman, a Christian and the target of Arafat's most vile invectives, these drawbacks have not prevented Dr. Ashrawi from being elected to the Palestinian parliament. However, the first two factors may well preclude any real aspirations for political leadership.
Husseini, who died earlier this year, hailed from one of the most historically prominent Palestinian families, but he had been repeatedly cowed and co-opted by Arafat. And due to his increasingly close association with Abu Ammar the capable and vociferous Erekat has been tarnished as well.
But perhaps the greatest collective drawback of this group of eloquent and democratically-leaning figures is that none of them have ever espoused any personal political ambitions.
All are considerably more uncompromising in their criticism of Israel and the Palestinian Authority's handling of the peace process. Their independence of thought and action when they formally negotiated with Israel prompted Arafat to bypass them altogether and open up the secret channel that produced the Oslo accords.
Also omitted from possible post-Arafat leadership is Hamas spiritual leader Sheikh Ahmed Yassin. While Hamas' Izzedin al-Kassem brigades are capable of bombing attacks against Israel, their doctrinaire message has a distinctly limited appeal among a majority of Palestinians, who are overwhelming Muslim and overwhelming secular. This situation could change, however, given the religious dynamic of the struggle for Jerusalem and the spiraling death toll of Palestinians.
The true strength of Hamas is the fundamental appeal of Islam within Palestinian society; the organization's impressive network of social services provided to a poverty-stricken and frustrated people; and, lastly, the blatant corruption and failure of the secular Palestinian Authority to deliver on the expectations raised seven years ago with the Oslo accords.
All are also internal civil society proponents who have been outspoken in support of a democratic and accountable Palestinian political structure. All are civilian members of the Palestinian collective leadership which emerged during the first Intifadah. With the exception of Sheikh Yassin, most enthusiastically joined Arafat to lead the Palestinian cause in talks that began at the Madrid peace conference in 1991, conducted through several fruitless rounds of negotiations. Their frustrations with the Israelis were only exceeded by their disappointment with Arafat when they discovered he had undercut them by conducting secret negotiations producing the now infamous Oslo Accords.
Most of these internal leaders, with the exception Erekat, have been outspoken in their criticism of how Arafat has handled peace negotiations with Israel, including the Oslo accords, which he conducted behind their backs.
Dr. Abdul-Shafi, Ashrawi and Husseini have, as a result, been estranged from Arafat. Erekat, although he has negotiated for the P.A. with Israel, is also increasingly frustrated and has offered his resignation on numerous occasions to Arafat, who has refused to accept it. Nonetheless, these internal leaders - not Arafat and his cronies - represent aspirations for a democratic future far different from the autocratic rule of Arafat or other dictatorships ruling the Arab world.
Despite the impending dilemma, the larger question remains of not only by whom, but how Palestinians will be led and ruled in the future.
Of course, Israel and the United States would prefer to have a more accommodating Palestinian leader. Ideally, this would be someone like Arafat who could keep a lid on growing internal frustrations and demonstrations against Israel, while also making painful compromises at the negotiating table.
It is doubtful that any of Arafat's successors could do either without threatening their own political survival. Any successor would need to consolidate his or her political standing first before initiating such bold moves. These circumstances would mitigate against seeking to address primarily Israeli or American security concerns. In this regard, Israel and the United States would sorely miss the role played by Arafat.
A securocrat might be preferable for either Israel or the United States, but even Arafat - the father of modern Palestinian nationalism - cannot make compromises on such core issues like Jerusalem, refugees and the status of Israeli settlements, especially at a time when emotions have reached a fever pitch.
It is also doubtful that a majority of Palestinians would support any leader without the sanction of a democratic, free and fair election. It is also unlikely that they would accept a continuation of Arafat's brutal and corrupt regime without Arafat, even if a possible successor could manage to re-create his one-man rule.
Holding free-and-fair elections would, of course, remain out of the question in the short-term, considering both the level of insecurity in Palestinian-ruled areas and the logistical challenges to such an exercise posed by Israeli siege of cities, towns and villages.
Neighboring Arab states, such as Egypt, Jordan and Syria, will also be much concerned, if not involved, in the succession procession.
Cairo wants to simultaneously safeguard its political leadership in the Arab world and its close political ties with Washington. Arafat's ties with Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak are arguably his closest with any Arab leader. And Mubarak has played a pivotal role as both Arafat's confidante and minder.
Yet, as amply demonstrated by Cairo's "cold peace" with Israel, there are also limits on Egypt's ability or desire to be a moderating political influence on the Palestinians. Despite this, Egypt's influence is limited and may even diminish considerably in the post-Arafat era.
Jordan, with its Palestinian majority, would seek to ensure that the political and economic instability does not spread across from the Jordan River and threaten the Hashemite Kingdom. Jordan has also absorbed a heavy economic hit as a result of the current Intifadah, specifically the loss of tourism revenues, as well as the return of the Palestinian market in the West Bank.
King Abdullah has moved to curb the activities of Hamas, but he is forced by demographic and political realities to carefully gauge each step. Overall public sentiment in Amman has never warmed to peace with Israel, although non-belligerent coexistence is seen as a national necessity.
Public sympathy with Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza will only increase. And King Abdullah, like his father, King Hussein, may be compelled to make moves at rapprochement with Arafat's successor in order to maintain Jordan's delicate societal balance.
Syria's new government appears to be in the early stages of revising its regional policies. But Damascus, with its own Palestinian refugee population, isn't likely to surrender its rhetorical or ideological role as the protector of Palestinian nationalism.
Relations between Arafat and Syria's new president, Bashar al-Assad, warmed during a recent Amman summit conference. Syria seeks to avoid isolation and favors locking Israel's negotiations with the Palestinians on Syrian and Lebanese tracks. Neither the Israelis, the Palestinians nor the Americans see any utility in this idea.
The price in Damascus was always too high for the independent-minded Arafat under Hafez al-Assad. It is likely to remain so for his successor under the younger Assad.
None of these frontline Arab governments wants a political explosion that will further enflame domestic passions or lead them into another disastrous conventional military confrontation with Israel.
Yet it is the Israelis and the Americans who would have a bigger say in determining Arafat's successor, given their military, political and economic leverage over the Palestinian Authority, if not the Palestinian people. In fact, Israeli holds could economically starve the P.A. through border closures or holding up remittances of taxed Palestinian workers who labor in Israel. In the past, it has repeatedly used these measures to undermine Arafat's domestic credibility.
This situation suggests a number of troubling scenarios. One, the continued uprising could lead to the steady collapse of the Palestinian Authority. With no clear successor, Arafat's death could be produce a bitter power struggle, perhaps even civil war, among several rival armed factions, including Hamas and Islamic Jihad.
It would not surprising if any of these parties tried to tip the scales in support of a hand-picked successor, thereby increasing the likelihood of a bloody, internecine struggle for power. This is the very situation Hamas leaders have long warned was Israel's true intent in agreeing to Oslo; to get Palestinians to stop fighting Israel and to start fighting amongst themselves.
A second scenario is widespread anarchy, gradually building from spontaneous street protests on the outskirts of Palestinian cities into full-scale attacks by Palestinian militias or security forces against Israeli forces and Jewish settlements throughout the West Bank and Gaza Strip.
This could also include another wave of Hamas attacks within Israel proper. Such developments would inevitably lead to attempts to re-impose the status quo, either through prolonged border closures by the Israeli government, or punishing Israeli military attacks into Palestinian-ruled areas.
The third and most dire scenario would involve continued instability in Palestinian-ruled areas, more political violence and an Israeli government faced without a credible Palestinian counterpart.
Under these circumstances, an Israeli government may feel compelled to formally scrap the peace process and revert to the pre-Oslo situation - revisiting a living nightmare for both Israelis and Palestinians of attempting to re-impose Israeli military control over Palestinian cities.
The bloodshed of the last 15 months could pale in comparison to any attempts by Israel to permanently re-take Gaza City, Ramallah, Hebron or Nablus, which would certainly involve the kind of fighting every army seeks to avoid - prolonged urban guerrilla warfare.
Yet, even these worst-case scenarios will not end the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. At best, these represent temporary measures aimed at "containing" or "managing," not resolving the Palestinian problem.
A few years ago, shortly after my second visit to Gaza, I interviewed Tahseen Bashir, Egypt's former representative to the United Nations. He had known Arafat from his early days as a brash young guerrilla leader. Arafat, he told me, was motivated by self-interest and deep feelings of insecurity, which had been re-enforced over many years of dealing with Arab heads-of-state.
"If Arafat can be declared president for one hour of one day, even if it is a state the size of a postage stamp," Bashir told me, "that would be enough for him. Nothing else really matters to him."
The Oslo accords provided the trappings of a Palestinian state. There are government buildings, postage stamps, and a spanking new international airport in Gaza, and numerous White House photo opportunities for Arafat.
Yet the accords have clearly fallen short in the eyes of the Palestinians. The peace of Oslo never guaranteed Palestinian statehood or Israel's acceptance of the genuine article - an independent state with a capital in East Jerusalem, a right of return for four million Palestinian refugees, and an evacuation of most Jewish settlements.
Long on symbolism and short on substance, Arafat's legacy remains unclear. While he never aspired for martyrdom, the man whose visage has personified the modern Palestinian national movement may achieve the kind of immortality he has always craved, leaving the international stage not as a head-of-state, but as an eternal rebel.
Nations are either independent, or they are not. And the Palestinians, whether ruled by Arafat or not, are not certainly inclined to settle for less. It is unconceivable that Arafat's successor will surrender to Palestinian national demands to the region's strongest conventional military power (Israel), the world's only remaining superpower (U.S.), nor any number of nervous Arab regimes.
If the presumption by Israel and the United States remains otherwise, then the peace process and Arafat have already expired. Unfortunately, this is a miscalculation for which many more Palestinians and Israelis will unfortunately pay for with their lives.
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