Saul Singer
What do the Six-Day and Lebanon wars have in common, besides their noted anniversaries this week? The first planted the seeds of Israel's two dominant political camps; the second was the source of the first major clash between them.
Our camps have adopted wonderful names for themselves: the "peace" and the "national" camps. Both camps are rightly offended by the other's name. "How dare you insinuate that I am less than patriotic?" say the peaceniks. "How dare you claim that I am against peace?" say the nationalists.
My problem with the peace camp is not with its patriotism, but with its judgment. I accept, for example, that Yossi Beilin sincerely believes that he is an überpatriot -- that he is not only doing what is best for Israel, but saving his country from conflict, isolation, and perhaps even destruction.
My problem with the national camp is not that it doesn't care about peace -- that is an awful libel -- but that it does not give its ideological opponents a run for their money. The nationalists are generally defined by what they are against -- Oslo, Arafat, a Palestinian state -- not what they are for and how to get there.
The even bigger problem, however, is not within each camp, but with the lines along which Israel has chosen to divide itself.
In decrying our current camp system, I am not making a pitch for some apolitical utopia. Unity is often touted as an absolute good, but absence of division is a hallmark of dictatorship, not a healthy democracy. Further, one might think that it is natural for the main political fault line to concern the issue that is most important to people: peace and security, in Israel's case.
In most democracies, however, there is an exception to the rule that politics divides over the main issue of the day -- that is, when the nation is under attack. After Sept. 11, national security and foreign policy jumped from being off the American radar screen to the top of the national agenda. But this did not mean that Democrats and Republicans automatically found ways to align themselves into different camps regarding the war on terrorism. Wars can become politicized, as in the case of Vietnam, but they also can stay within a consensus, such as World War II.
Lebanon, like Vietnam, began as a consensus war and became a bitterly divisive one. American politics may bear the scars of Vietnam, but only scars. Israeli politics, by contrast, was permanently altered.
It is said that the American victory in Afghanistan has finally cured U.S. polity of its "Vietnam syndrome" -- the belief that it is only possible to use force when a quick victory is guaranteed, with minimum casualties and maximum consensus. The speed and ease of the victory against the Taliban did not really test this proposition, but polls indicated, and still suggest, that Americans are willing to do whatever it takes to beat terrorism, including going to Baghdad.
Israel, however, is not cured of its Lebanon syndrome: the idea that the nation is divided into warmongers and those who want peace. The notion that Lebanon was a war of choice, itself an arguable claim, has metastasized into a philosophy whereby every Israeli war short of one repelling invading Arab armies, including one against a wave of suicide bombings, is an optional one.
Beilin epitomizes this mistake. In launching his new movement Dawn (a Hebrew acronym for peace, education and welfare), he breezily stated, "Achieving peace is not difficult at all." But if peace is there for the asking, then nothing Israel is doing militarily is legitimate. It is all a war of choice -- Israel's choice, not the Palestinians'.
Most Israelis do not believe that, as reflected in the fact that Labor is part of the unity government. But marginalizing the peace camp does not really mean that our politics has moved beyond camps. Even now, it is assumed that whenever the Labor Party does finally bolt from the coalition to compete in elections, it will differentiate itself on the peace and security spectrum, not on domestic issues.
At this point, I have to give Beilin credit. While most of his talk dealt with diplomacy, he also called for cutting back and reforming our burgeoning transfer payment system. It is refreshing to hear a voice of the left saying that our current welfare system is actually adding to the problems of unemployment and poverty.
By continuing to put his faith in Arafat and by refusing to set aside his diplomatic plans until the current terror offensive is defeated, Beilin is causing grievous harm to the cause of peace. But Beilin, as the only minister who ever advocated and implemented the dismantling of his own ministry, has earned a right to be listened to regarding domestic reforms.
Beilin is used to going against the grain and proposing things that are ahead of the curve. There is one revolution, however, that he is not proposing that is desperately needed: a new set of camps. We must, like a normal country, unite in fighting terrorism and divide in fighting over the economy. Our economy will never be revolutionized as long as the size of government and tax policy are political non-issues. Peace and security cannot be achieved as long as defending ourselves is a matter for political debate.
This column appeared previously in the Jerusalem Post, where the writer is editorials editor.