Today marks four years since Palestinian infiltrators tunneled their way from Gaza into Israel, opening fire on an open-hatched tank, killing two IDF soldiers, and taking the third, Gilad Shalit, prisoner. Before long, Hamas announced it was prepared to exchange Shalit for 1,000 Palestinian security prisoners held by Israel. Then-premier Ehud Olmert declared that Jerusalem would not give in to blackmail. "We will hold no negotiations over the release of prisoners." That was then.
Over the ensuing years, Israel has found no way to rescue the young soldier, despite his being held within driving distance of the Ministry of Defense in Tel Aviv. No amount of leverage exerted has been able to dislodge Hamas from its original demands—not the hundreds of Palestinian fighters killed by Israel since the capture, not the imprisonment of Hamas's West Bank leadership cadre, not the immense suffering the Islamists have brought down on the civilian population living under their yoke.
In the meantime, the Shalit family, abetted by empathizing parents, scores of Israeli pundits and politicians, and a worldwide campaign—boilerplate calls for the soldier's release have become routine in innumerable international declarations—has been pushing for any approach, including capitulation, to free their son. Fears for his welfare have been exacerbated by Hamas's refusal to allow visits by the Red Cross—whose position is that Hamas, as a non-state actor, is under no obligation to allow such visits.
And so the Israeli posture has shifted from a categorical refusal to trade imprisoned terrorists to haggling with Hamas, via Egyptian and latterly German intermediaries, over the contours of such an exchange. Now Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu has explicitly confirmed that Israel will acquiesce in the release of Hamas's 1,000 prisoners, just as was demanded over 1,460 days ago. Bargaining is reportedly stalled over which prisoners are to be freed and where they will be allowed to find refuge.
Few Israelis would dispute that releasing busloads of terrorists will strengthen Hamas, endanger Israeli civilians, and weaken Arab elements competing with the Islamists for the allegiance of the Palestinian masses. But as Assaf Sagiv has noted in Azure, the IDF is a citizens' army, its fighters the nation's "children," and the tacit contract between state and soldier states that the fighter's interest takes precedence over the civilian's.
In this sense, the Shalit saga is a microcosm of the quandary confronted by Western civilization as a whole: can societies that cherish life and prize liberty abide the sacrifices necessary to overcome the forces of extremist Islam? At the excruciating epicenter of this conundrum stands Israel, alone. It has already freed hundreds of Arab prisoners in goodwill gestures, to which Hamas, under no countervailing domestic pressure, has responded by releasing a single video of Shalit. Now, having essentially lifted the blockade of Gaza due to EU pressure, Jerusalem has few cards left to play.
-- June 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Gilad Shalit
I am an Israel briefer and analyst, a political scientist, and a speaker on Jewish civilization. I'm also a rewrite guy & fact-checker, who can make your writing clear and compelling & help you contextualize.
An Umbrella for British Jewry
An Umbrella for British Jewry
The Board of Deputies of British Jews is almost certainly the oldest continuously functioning representative body of Jewry in the world. Its first meeting, held at London's Bevis Marks Synagogue in 1760, was recorded in Portuguese, the language of its Sephardi founders. A new book by Raphael Langham, the first complete history of the Board, has been published to coincide with its 250th anniversary.
Operating at the center of the British Empire, the board worked to advance the conditions of British Jews at home and to harness England's global power on behalf of Jewish communities around the world. At home, its agenda included protecting the rights of Jews to observe their religious traditions, protecting shechita or kosher meat-slaughtering and absolving Jews of taking Christian oaths for purposes of employment. Abroad, for instance, it intervened with the British government in 1840, to request intercession with the Ottoman authorities over the Damascus Blood Libel.
Today, Britain is no longer an empire, the Board is no longer overseen by a small coterie of fabulously rich and powerful men and the golden years of British Jewry are behind it. The BOD came into existence when there were 10,000 Jews in England. Today there are 267,000 but this figure is down from a peak of 420,000 in 1955. Today's community is a study in contrasts: demographically contracting, with intermarriage running at about 50% yet religiously vibrant and diverse and with notable points of cultural vitality. Middle ground traditionalists are holding their own -- barely; the ultra-Orthodox are thriving, while there are also effervescent pockets of Reform, Masorti and Liberal Judaism.
Some say the BOD has lost its clout. Yet its president is still seen as the lay leader of British Jewry. The government will always turn to the board when it wants to say something to the community, even if it also turns to other bodies. The board continues to play an instrumental role in civil rights advocacy, protecting shechita (still under assault) and in grappling with occasionally violent anti-Semitism stemming from Britain's growing Muslim population and extreme nationalists. The autonomous Community Security Trust, which looks after the security needs of British Jewry, takes its cue from the BOD.
Some see today's board as too democratic. In 2003 the Jewish Leadership Council was formed after the board rejected overtures from a small group of benefactors who offered to back its activities in exchange for control of its agenda. Nevertheless, the BOD and the JLC often operate in tandem. There are other welcome signs of unity. Though the ultra-Orthodox Union of Orthodox Hebrew Congregations walked out of the BOD in 1971 over religious differences, its representatives did attend a recent communal gathering marking the board's anniversary.
On Zionism, from the early years of the state, the BOD has been mindful that British Jewry was faced with accusations of dual loyalty. Consequently, the deputies had tried to set Israel's position before the public without appearing boldly partisan. This stance has evolved into one of public solidarity without, though, endorsing specific Israeli policies over which the board is itself divided. In that context, board leaders have met with the the new Cameron government's top Middle East minister. Contrary to pre-election pledges from the Tories, the Board has been unable gain the government's commitment for a change in the Universal Jurisdiction law which has been exploited by anti-Israel campaigners against visiting Israeli officials.
Surveys show that 80% of British Jews are supportive of Israel, according to Langham, including those with doubts about its policies. During the 1982 Lebanon War, the Board mustered 40,000 pro-Israel supporters in Trafalgar Square. A January 2009 demonstration during the Gaza War drew, at best, half as many. To be fair, Britain's Jewish community functions in a troublingly anti-Zionist political and media environment.
Like vital umbrella organizations everywhere, the Board can speak publicly with one voice on Israel only by restricting itself to bland and non-committal statements. Yet defining and articulating communal interests that are faithful to Jewish civilizational values must surely be the truest test of leadership -- in the UK and elsewhere.
###
The Board of Deputies of British Jews is almost certainly the oldest continuously functioning representative body of Jewry in the world. Its first meeting, held at London's Bevis Marks Synagogue in 1760, was recorded in Portuguese, the language of its Sephardi founders. A new book by Raphael Langham, the first complete history of the Board, has been published to coincide with its 250th anniversary.
Operating at the center of the British Empire, the board worked to advance the conditions of British Jews at home and to harness England's global power on behalf of Jewish communities around the world. At home, its agenda included protecting the rights of Jews to observe their religious traditions, protecting shechita or kosher meat-slaughtering and absolving Jews of taking Christian oaths for purposes of employment. Abroad, for instance, it intervened with the British government in 1840, to request intercession with the Ottoman authorities over the Damascus Blood Libel.
Today, Britain is no longer an empire, the Board is no longer overseen by a small coterie of fabulously rich and powerful men and the golden years of British Jewry are behind it. The BOD came into existence when there were 10,000 Jews in England. Today there are 267,000 but this figure is down from a peak of 420,000 in 1955. Today's community is a study in contrasts: demographically contracting, with intermarriage running at about 50% yet religiously vibrant and diverse and with notable points of cultural vitality. Middle ground traditionalists are holding their own -- barely; the ultra-Orthodox are thriving, while there are also effervescent pockets of Reform, Masorti and Liberal Judaism.
Some say the BOD has lost its clout. Yet its president is still seen as the lay leader of British Jewry. The government will always turn to the board when it wants to say something to the community, even if it also turns to other bodies. The board continues to play an instrumental role in civil rights advocacy, protecting shechita (still under assault) and in grappling with occasionally violent anti-Semitism stemming from Britain's growing Muslim population and extreme nationalists. The autonomous Community Security Trust, which looks after the security needs of British Jewry, takes its cue from the BOD.
Some see today's board as too democratic. In 2003 the Jewish Leadership Council was formed after the board rejected overtures from a small group of benefactors who offered to back its activities in exchange for control of its agenda. Nevertheless, the BOD and the JLC often operate in tandem. There are other welcome signs of unity. Though the ultra-Orthodox Union of Orthodox Hebrew Congregations walked out of the BOD in 1971 over religious differences, its representatives did attend a recent communal gathering marking the board's anniversary.
On Zionism, from the early years of the state, the BOD has been mindful that British Jewry was faced with accusations of dual loyalty. Consequently, the deputies had tried to set Israel's position before the public without appearing boldly partisan. This stance has evolved into one of public solidarity without, though, endorsing specific Israeli policies over which the board is itself divided. In that context, board leaders have met with the the new Cameron government's top Middle East minister. Contrary to pre-election pledges from the Tories, the Board has been unable gain the government's commitment for a change in the Universal Jurisdiction law which has been exploited by anti-Israel campaigners against visiting Israeli officials.
Surveys show that 80% of British Jews are supportive of Israel, according to Langham, including those with doubts about its policies. During the 1982 Lebanon War, the Board mustered 40,000 pro-Israel supporters in Trafalgar Square. A January 2009 demonstration during the Gaza War drew, at best, half as many. To be fair, Britain's Jewish community functions in a troublingly anti-Zionist political and media environment.
Like vital umbrella organizations everywhere, the Board can speak publicly with one voice on Israel only by restricting itself to bland and non-committal statements. Yet defining and articulating communal interests that are faithful to Jewish civilizational values must surely be the truest test of leadership -- in the UK and elsewhere.
###
I am an Israel briefer and analyst, a political scientist, and a speaker on Jewish civilization. I'm also a rewrite guy & fact-checker, who can make your writing clear and compelling & help you contextualize.
East Jerusalem
During Vice President Joseph Biden's visit to Israel last week, a routine bureaucratic approval of additional dwellings for ultra-Orthodox Jews was leaked to the media, thereby setting off a crisis in relations between the two countries. The neighborhood in question, Ramat Shlomo, is said to stand in Arab East Jerusalem. But what and where is East Jerusalem?
The term is an artificial construct, and a misnomer. Jerusalem is a city built on hills, embedded on a mountain ridge; Samaria lies to the north, Judea to the south. The city has no grid system—no Fifth Avenue to divide the east and west sides. Until Israel's victory in the June 1967 Six Day War, parts of Jerusalem were artificially separated along the armistice lines resulting from Israel's 1948 war of independence. North, south, and east Jerusalem lay under control of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.
By June 28, 1967 the barriers had been dismantled. The city's boundaries were dramatically expanded beyond the six square kilometers of the Jordanian municipality, including the Old City, to embrace the Mount of Olives with its Jewish cemetery, Mount Scopus and the pre-state campus of the Hebrew University, and 28 nearby Arab villages. All were incorporated into Israel proper. Today the city's Palestinian Arabs carry ordinary blue Israeli ID cards and make full use of universal health coverage as well as other social benefits. They also enjoy the right to vote in municipal elections, but so far have opted to boycott political participation.
When the city was first liberated, former premier David Ben-Gurion called for a national effort to settle the empty spaces of metropolitan Jerusalem. Since then, international opposition notwithstanding, all Israeli governments have worked to solidify control of the city by constructing a sequence of strategically placed residential neighborhoods: Gilo and Har Homah in the south; East Talpiot in the east; Ramat Eshkol, French Hill, Pisgat Ze'ev, Neve Yaakov in the north; and Ramot on the northern flank of the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv highway. Although some Jordanian government lands and some private property were confiscated, most of the strategic sites chosen were on barren hills. Only in recent years have small numbers of ideological settlers moved into densely populated Arab neighborhoods. As for Ramat Shlomo, the neighborhood at the center of the latest flap, it lies to the west of Ramot—that is, in northern Jerusalem.
And where does the United States stand? Among those bodies opposing Israel's 1967 annexation was the State Department. To this day, the American consulate is housed in an antiquated compound on Nablus Road in east Jerusalem, while a separate facility in the center of the city serves as the consul general's residence. (A newly built consulate in west Jerusalem stands empty.) The embassy is in Tel Aviv, since Washington does not recognize Israel's sovereignty over any part of Jerusalem—west, east, north, or south.
Yet on June 19, 1967, President Lyndon Johnson declared: "No one wishes to see the Holy City again divided." Today, any fair-minded visitor would have to acknowledge that Jerusalem is a mosaic of neighborhoods built on hills and in valleys where Jews and Arabs live in proximity and share common spaces. There may come a time when a borough arrangement will permit them to administer the city conjointly; some Israeli governments have also offered parts of the city to a Palestinian state. Meanwhile, to imagine Jerusalem divisible along east-west lines bespeaks a profound ignorance of both history and political geography.
-- March 2010
The term is an artificial construct, and a misnomer. Jerusalem is a city built on hills, embedded on a mountain ridge; Samaria lies to the north, Judea to the south. The city has no grid system—no Fifth Avenue to divide the east and west sides. Until Israel's victory in the June 1967 Six Day War, parts of Jerusalem were artificially separated along the armistice lines resulting from Israel's 1948 war of independence. North, south, and east Jerusalem lay under control of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.
By June 28, 1967 the barriers had been dismantled. The city's boundaries were dramatically expanded beyond the six square kilometers of the Jordanian municipality, including the Old City, to embrace the Mount of Olives with its Jewish cemetery, Mount Scopus and the pre-state campus of the Hebrew University, and 28 nearby Arab villages. All were incorporated into Israel proper. Today the city's Palestinian Arabs carry ordinary blue Israeli ID cards and make full use of universal health coverage as well as other social benefits. They also enjoy the right to vote in municipal elections, but so far have opted to boycott political participation.
When the city was first liberated, former premier David Ben-Gurion called for a national effort to settle the empty spaces of metropolitan Jerusalem. Since then, international opposition notwithstanding, all Israeli governments have worked to solidify control of the city by constructing a sequence of strategically placed residential neighborhoods: Gilo and Har Homah in the south; East Talpiot in the east; Ramat Eshkol, French Hill, Pisgat Ze'ev, Neve Yaakov in the north; and Ramot on the northern flank of the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv highway. Although some Jordanian government lands and some private property were confiscated, most of the strategic sites chosen were on barren hills. Only in recent years have small numbers of ideological settlers moved into densely populated Arab neighborhoods. As for Ramat Shlomo, the neighborhood at the center of the latest flap, it lies to the west of Ramot—that is, in northern Jerusalem.
And where does the United States stand? Among those bodies opposing Israel's 1967 annexation was the State Department. To this day, the American consulate is housed in an antiquated compound on Nablus Road in east Jerusalem, while a separate facility in the center of the city serves as the consul general's residence. (A newly built consulate in west Jerusalem stands empty.) The embassy is in Tel Aviv, since Washington does not recognize Israel's sovereignty over any part of Jerusalem—west, east, north, or south.
Yet on June 19, 1967, President Lyndon Johnson declared: "No one wishes to see the Holy City again divided." Today, any fair-minded visitor would have to acknowledge that Jerusalem is a mosaic of neighborhoods built on hills and in valleys where Jews and Arabs live in proximity and share common spaces. There may come a time when a borough arrangement will permit them to administer the city conjointly; some Israeli governments have also offered parts of the city to a Palestinian state. Meanwhile, to imagine Jerusalem divisible along east-west lines bespeaks a profound ignorance of both history and political geography.
-- March 2010
I am an Israel briefer and analyst, a political scientist, and a speaker on Jewish civilization. I'm also a rewrite guy & fact-checker, who can make your writing clear and compelling & help you contextualize.
Getting Abbas to the Table
The barrier built a decade ago to protect the southern Jerusalem neighborhood of Gilo from Fatah fire is being dismantled.Some residents are worried: today's tranquility is welcome, said one, but why tempt fate when there is still no peace agreement with the Palestinians, and not even direct negotiations?
Actually, direct negotiations, or a semblance of them, may be in the offing. Under intense American and EU pressure, Mahmoud Abbas's Palestinian Authority is expected grudgingly to end its year-long boycott and return to the bargaining table. But there is no sign that Abbas has any intention of seizing the moment to engage Israel in a fruitful give-and-take. Rather, the Palestinian leadership, its electoral legitimacy long expired, appears simply to have run out of excuses.
Abbas had insisted he would not talk with Benjamin Netanyahu unless Israel stopped housing construction over the Green Line. When Israel duly instituted a building moratorium, he said it was not enough since the freeze did not include Jerusalem. A further, unfulfillable precondition then followed: Israel had to commit itself in advance to withdrawing to the 1949 armistice lines. Then Abbas insisted that talks begin where they had left off with former premier Ehud Olmert, whose final magnanimous offer he had simply pocketed without comment.
Now, even as the Palestinians are being dragged back to the table, they are demanding that the construction moratorium they have denigrated for the past eleven months be extended beyond its September sunset date. If not, in the words of chief Palestinian negotiator Saeb Erekat, the talks will be "buried" before they can be re-launched.
Jerusalem appears unlikely to accede to this, though the cabinet might agree to limit new building to settlement blocs: i.e., strategic areas that all agree must remain within Israel in any deal. Meanwhile, the international Quartet—consisting of the U.S., the EU, Russia, and the UN—may set parameters for direct negotiations framed by its earlier statement catering to Palestinian preconditions while giving short shrift to Israel's sensibilities. If so, Jerusalem is expected to take part only in response to a separate invitation from Washington, and without preconditions. As for the other half of the Palestinian polity, the one autocratically run by Hamas in Gaza, it refuses either to entertain an accommodation with Abbas or to accept Israel's legitimacy under any circumstances.
If the fractious Palestinian polity is in no way ready for a viable deal, and if imposing a solution on Israel is politically unfeasible and strategically self-defeating, what explains the full-court press to cajole Abbas to the table? The answer appears to be this: George Mitchell (for the American administration), Tony Blair (for the Quartet), and Catherine Ashton (for the EU) are deeply invested in the notion that Abbas is prepared to deliver on a historic two-state solution, and therefore even the illusion of momentum trumps the status quo.
But does it? Yes, Israel wants to achieve a breakthrough through direct talks. But ill-conceived negotiations, in which Abbas is encouraged to advance maximalist demands regarding refugees, borders, Jerusalem, and security, could prove as counterproductive this time around as at Camp David in 2000—when, unprepared for compromise, the Palestinians unleashed a years-long paroxysm of violence.
Getting Abbas to the table, like dismantling the concrete slabs protecting Gilo, is the easy part.
--
August 2010
Actually, direct negotiations, or a semblance of them, may be in the offing. Under intense American and EU pressure, Mahmoud Abbas's Palestinian Authority is expected grudgingly to end its year-long boycott and return to the bargaining table. But there is no sign that Abbas has any intention of seizing the moment to engage Israel in a fruitful give-and-take. Rather, the Palestinian leadership, its electoral legitimacy long expired, appears simply to have run out of excuses.
Abbas had insisted he would not talk with Benjamin Netanyahu unless Israel stopped housing construction over the Green Line. When Israel duly instituted a building moratorium, he said it was not enough since the freeze did not include Jerusalem. A further, unfulfillable precondition then followed: Israel had to commit itself in advance to withdrawing to the 1949 armistice lines. Then Abbas insisted that talks begin where they had left off with former premier Ehud Olmert, whose final magnanimous offer he had simply pocketed without comment.
Now, even as the Palestinians are being dragged back to the table, they are demanding that the construction moratorium they have denigrated for the past eleven months be extended beyond its September sunset date. If not, in the words of chief Palestinian negotiator Saeb Erekat, the talks will be "buried" before they can be re-launched.
Jerusalem appears unlikely to accede to this, though the cabinet might agree to limit new building to settlement blocs: i.e., strategic areas that all agree must remain within Israel in any deal. Meanwhile, the international Quartet—consisting of the U.S., the EU, Russia, and the UN—may set parameters for direct negotiations framed by its earlier statement catering to Palestinian preconditions while giving short shrift to Israel's sensibilities. If so, Jerusalem is expected to take part only in response to a separate invitation from Washington, and without preconditions. As for the other half of the Palestinian polity, the one autocratically run by Hamas in Gaza, it refuses either to entertain an accommodation with Abbas or to accept Israel's legitimacy under any circumstances.
If the fractious Palestinian polity is in no way ready for a viable deal, and if imposing a solution on Israel is politically unfeasible and strategically self-defeating, what explains the full-court press to cajole Abbas to the table? The answer appears to be this: George Mitchell (for the American administration), Tony Blair (for the Quartet), and Catherine Ashton (for the EU) are deeply invested in the notion that Abbas is prepared to deliver on a historic two-state solution, and therefore even the illusion of momentum trumps the status quo.
But does it? Yes, Israel wants to achieve a breakthrough through direct talks. But ill-conceived negotiations, in which Abbas is encouraged to advance maximalist demands regarding refugees, borders, Jerusalem, and security, could prove as counterproductive this time around as at Camp David in 2000—when, unprepared for compromise, the Palestinians unleashed a years-long paroxysm of violence.
Getting Abbas to the table, like dismantling the concrete slabs protecting Gilo, is the easy part.
--
August 2010
I am an Israel briefer and analyst, a political scientist, and a speaker on Jewish civilization. I'm also a rewrite guy & fact-checker, who can make your writing clear and compelling & help you contextualize.
Rank Rivalries In the IDF
A bare majority of Americans know that David Petraeus commands U.S. forces in Afghanistan. It's anyone's guess how many can name Navy Adm. Mike Mullen as the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. In contrast, the IDF chief of staff is a household name in Israel, has operational control over the armed services and is an ex-officio cabinet member.
That is why the current friction between Defense Minister Ehud Barak and IDF Chief of Staff Lt. Gen. Gabi Ashkenazi is making headlines in Israel. Barak decided against extending Ashkenazi's term beyond February 2011 and has embarked on a highly-publicized – some say premature and humiliating – course of finding a replacement. With no dazzling general waiting in the wings the three main contenders are Yoav Galant, chief of the southern command and rumored to be Barak's favored candidate, Benny Gantz, deputy chief of staff, and Gadi Eizenkot, head of the northern command. As the unpopular leader of the waning Labor party, with his own political fortunes uncertain, Barak would not mind having Ashkenazi take early retirement and have his man ensconced sooner rather than later.
Lacking institutional processes, the quest for the chief of staff job has characteristically involved behind-the-scenes scheming. In this instance the curtain has been clumsily lifted. Thus someone – perhaps with Barak's interests at heart – leaked top secret testimony from the Knesset Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee that laid blame for the IDF's poorly-executed interdiction of the Gaza-bound Turkish on Ashkenazi's shoulders. Then came the bombshell that Galant had engaged wily political strategist Eyal Arad – a nemesis of Premier Benjamin Netanyahu -- to help him elbow out the incumbent. Television pundit Amnon Abramowitz broke the story based on a leaked strategy paper containing Arad's logo. Galant says he knows nothing about the paper; Arad denies authorship. The matter is now being investigated by the attorney-general.
Genuine or forged the document is a jarring reminder that the IDF chief of staff role is hardly above the political fray.
There are no ex-generals in the U.S. Senate or House of Representatives. Since 1900, only one general, Dwight Eisenhower, reached White House. In Israel, however, a generalship is a stepping stone to politics. Prime ministers Yitzhak Rabin and Ehud Barak were former chiefs of staff; Ariel Sharon was a major-general. Since the 1967 War, only a handful of chiefs of staff have opted against a political career.
Yet, as an institution, Israel's military is by and large apolitical just as David Ben-Gurion wanted it to be. The supremacy of the civilian echelon is sacrosanct. Still, the political leanings of prospective chiefs of staff plays a role in their selection. Moreover, influence runs both ways. In 1949 active army generals associated with the left-wing Mapai party appeared on its Knesset candidate's list – nowadays there is a cooling off period before officers can enter politics. In 1956, then chief of staff Moshe Dayan donned civilian clothes to lobby the ruling Mapai party on a sensitive security matter. General Mordechai Gur bickered with Dayan over policy when he served as Golda Meir's defense minister after the Yom Kippur War. More recently, Sharon refused to extend General Moshe Ya'alon's term as chief of staff because he was unenthusiastic about the Gaza disengagement.
That said, jingoism is not a feature of the high command's ranks. When generals formally enter politics their positions are anything but monolithic; some like Amnon Lipkin-Shahak turn left, while others like Ya'alon head right. Tel Aviv University professor Yoram Peri, a former editor of the now defunct Labor newspaper Dvar, maintains that with Israeli politics stalemated, politicians find it convenient to push ex-generals who share their security orientation -- whether hawks or doves -- into the front ranks of politics.
As Israelis gloomily observe the spectacle of their top generals and defense minister being investigated over the leaked strategy paper, and with the process of picking Ashkenazi's replacement now on hold, they can only trust that the cutthroat competition for the military's top spot and the lack of esprit de corps exposed by this episode will not impact life-and-death national security decision making.
That is why the current friction between Defense Minister Ehud Barak and IDF Chief of Staff Lt. Gen. Gabi Ashkenazi is making headlines in Israel. Barak decided against extending Ashkenazi's term beyond February 2011 and has embarked on a highly-publicized – some say premature and humiliating – course of finding a replacement. With no dazzling general waiting in the wings the three main contenders are Yoav Galant, chief of the southern command and rumored to be Barak's favored candidate, Benny Gantz, deputy chief of staff, and Gadi Eizenkot, head of the northern command. As the unpopular leader of the waning Labor party, with his own political fortunes uncertain, Barak would not mind having Ashkenazi take early retirement and have his man ensconced sooner rather than later.
Lacking institutional processes, the quest for the chief of staff job has characteristically involved behind-the-scenes scheming. In this instance the curtain has been clumsily lifted. Thus someone – perhaps with Barak's interests at heart – leaked top secret testimony from the Knesset Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee that laid blame for the IDF's poorly-executed interdiction of the Gaza-bound Turkish on Ashkenazi's shoulders. Then came the bombshell that Galant had engaged wily political strategist Eyal Arad – a nemesis of Premier Benjamin Netanyahu -- to help him elbow out the incumbent. Television pundit Amnon Abramowitz broke the story based on a leaked strategy paper containing Arad's logo. Galant says he knows nothing about the paper; Arad denies authorship. The matter is now being investigated by the attorney-general.
Genuine or forged the document is a jarring reminder that the IDF chief of staff role is hardly above the political fray.
There are no ex-generals in the U.S. Senate or House of Representatives. Since 1900, only one general, Dwight Eisenhower, reached White House. In Israel, however, a generalship is a stepping stone to politics. Prime ministers Yitzhak Rabin and Ehud Barak were former chiefs of staff; Ariel Sharon was a major-general. Since the 1967 War, only a handful of chiefs of staff have opted against a political career.
Yet, as an institution, Israel's military is by and large apolitical just as David Ben-Gurion wanted it to be. The supremacy of the civilian echelon is sacrosanct. Still, the political leanings of prospective chiefs of staff plays a role in their selection. Moreover, influence runs both ways. In 1949 active army generals associated with the left-wing Mapai party appeared on its Knesset candidate's list – nowadays there is a cooling off period before officers can enter politics. In 1956, then chief of staff Moshe Dayan donned civilian clothes to lobby the ruling Mapai party on a sensitive security matter. General Mordechai Gur bickered with Dayan over policy when he served as Golda Meir's defense minister after the Yom Kippur War. More recently, Sharon refused to extend General Moshe Ya'alon's term as chief of staff because he was unenthusiastic about the Gaza disengagement.
That said, jingoism is not a feature of the high command's ranks. When generals formally enter politics their positions are anything but monolithic; some like Amnon Lipkin-Shahak turn left, while others like Ya'alon head right. Tel Aviv University professor Yoram Peri, a former editor of the now defunct Labor newspaper Dvar, maintains that with Israeli politics stalemated, politicians find it convenient to push ex-generals who share their security orientation -- whether hawks or doves -- into the front ranks of politics.
As Israelis gloomily observe the spectacle of their top generals and defense minister being investigated over the leaked strategy paper, and with the process of picking Ashkenazi's replacement now on hold, they can only trust that the cutthroat competition for the military's top spot and the lack of esprit de corps exposed by this episode will not impact life-and-death national security decision making.
I am an Israel briefer and analyst, a political scientist, and a speaker on Jewish civilization. I'm also a rewrite guy & fact-checker, who can make your writing clear and compelling & help you contextualize.
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