A most peculiar paradox hovers over the smoke and blood of the Middle East today. The current Palestinian uprising against Israel is aimed not at the government of Yitzhak Shamir or Benjamin Netanyahu, Likud leaders known for their hard line, but against Ehud Barak, the most dovish Israeli Prime Minister the Middle East has ever known. Indeed, Barak has gone so far that Yitzhak Rabin's widow said he'd be "turning in his grave" if he could see what concessions Barak had offered.
How is it then that the most pro-Palestinian, pro-peace Israeli government in history is the target of the most virulent, most frenzied anti-Israel violence in at least a half-century?
Call it the Barak paradox. Its answer is as painful as it is clear. For 30 years there has been an argument between doves and hawks in Israel. Said the doves: Assuage the other side's grievances--end the occupation; give the Palestinians land, a militia, their own state--and then we will have peace.
Said the hawks: The grievances are not satisfiable. They are existential. They don't just want their state; they want our state. After all, they were offered a state in 1947 (and autonomy in 1979) and turned it down. Why? Because they claim not just Ramallah but Tel Aviv as well. If you make concessions, lower your guard and show weakness, you invite war.
Accommodation or deterrence? Open hand or iron fist? Peace now or peace through strength? Rarely does history settle such debates as decisively and mercilessly as it has this one.
For seven years, the dove theory has been in command. In 1993 Israel brought the P.L.O. out of exile and gave it recognition, international legitimacy, self-government, foreign aid, the first elections in Palestinian history and an end to occupation for 99% of the Palestinian population. This July, Barak went the final mile, offering concessions so sweeping that even the U.S. negotiators at Camp David were astonished: giving up virtually all the West Bank (including the militarily crucial Jordan Valley), offering to divide Jerusalem, ready even to renounce Israeli sovereignty over Judaism's holiest site, the Temple Mount.
What happened? Yasser Arafat refused. He refused even to make a counteroffer. Then, finding no international support for his intransigence, he decided to reshuffle the deck: start a war that might give him the upper hand--a war that would bring enough international pressure on Israel to enable him to dictate terms.
Seizing a pretext, Arafat let loose his forces. Through all the days of stones and bullets and Molotov cocktails, he uttered not a word of restraint. On the contrary, his state-controlled media gave the war cry. Begged by President Bill Clinton and other world leaders to call a halt, he replied contemptuously, "Our people do not hesitate to continue the march to Jerusalem."
Under the doves' theory of accommodation, the transitional period of the "peace process" was supposed to give time to teach reconciliation and trust. The opposite happened. With control of TV, radio, newspapers and textbooks, Arafat has imbued a new generation with the most virulent hatred of Israel, descending often to pure anti-Semitism.