Monday, April 13, 2015

Iran in Historical Context: the Case of Japan

If the ongoing negotiations over Iran's nuclear program bear fruit in an actual diplomatic agreement it will be one of the hallmark achievements of Barack Obama's foreign policy, and may well shape the legacy of his administration for good or for ill. Much ink has been spilled arguing for or against the wisdom of the deal as it is taking shape. Since there are no precedents that exactly match the current circumstances confronting U.S. leaders, it is difficult to plumb history for lessons that might apply in this case. I would argue, however, that America's relations with Japan provide a context that might inform current policy toward Iran.

As I have written before, Iran is a state that, given slightly different circumstances, should have emerged from the twentieth century in much the same condition as Japan. Both nations were possessed of the same assets: a well-educated populace, long traditions of central state institutions, and a robust experience of democratic political life. Though Iran is beset by ethnic and linguistic divisions that were not matched in Japan, it also possesses oil reserves and other natural resources that Japan lacks.

The chief factor differentiating Iran's fate from that of Japan was geography. Because Japan is an archipelago separated from the Asian mainland, it was shielded from the worst influences of the Cold War. Iran, contrastingly sandwiched between the Soviet Union and the Anglo-American sphere of influence in Arabia, became a key battleground of ideological war by proxy. The success of the Islamic Revolution is thus due principally to the fact that the Shi'ite clerical establishment was the only institution in Iranian society with sufficient political capital to resist the machinations of the both the Soviet Union and the U.S.

What guidance can the contrasting outcomes in Japan and Iran offer us by way of assessing the current policy initiative? How one answers this question hinges on one's understanding of the role of U.S. power in twentieth century Japan. In 1941 Japan was in the grips of a regime as dysfunctional and malignant as that of Iran's mullahs (perhaps more so). It only became a prosperous, stable democracy in the wake of defeat and occupation.

If one believes that the U.S. broke down the Japanese state and rebuilt it in America's image, then one must be very leery of current diplomacy in Iran, as it embodies compromise and flexibility rather than the forceful assertion of U.S. power. But such an assessment fundamentally misunderstands the nature of U.S. power and its effects, whether in Japan or elsewhere. The postwar reconstruction of Japan did not represent an "Americanization" of Japanese state and society, but a rejection by the Japanese people themselves of the xenophobic militarism of the early Shōwa era (the 1930's) in favor of the liberal cosmopolitanism of late Taishō reign (the 1920's).

The Japanese people did not comply with the policies of the U.S. occupation out of fear or awe of U.S. power, but out of a deep sense of disenchantment with and betrayal by their own leaders. By 1945, every political, religious and civic institution of the Japanese empire had failed the Japanese people, bringing misery and suffering on a scale not experienced since medieval times. The Japanese understood that their misfortune had been avoidable; that it was not the result of Allied aggression but of poor choices by imperial leaders. Since all of the institutions of the imperial order had been radically discredited, the Japanese were ready to facilitate a complete overhaul of their system.

To demonstrate that this is true, one need only look to the empirical evidence of the second Gulf War. American victory over Saddam Hussein's Iraq was much swifter and more unequivocal than that over imperial Japan. If U.S. military power was the key factor underpinning nation "rebuilding," the leverage enjoyed  by the U.S. in Iraq should have been many times what it was in Japan. Iraq's actual development demonstrates that the internal dynamics of a nation are much more determinative than external military pressure of its evolution in the wake of a crisis. Iraq could not be made to conform to the Bush administration's plans because the Iraqi people themselves were not (are still not) ready to put their trust in a newly reconstructed order. Though a majority of Iraqis felt sorely oppressed by Saddam Hussein, many Iraqi Sunni Arabs remained loyal supporters of his government, and even those Iraqis who were not continued to have faith in other institutions (Shi'ite or Sunni clerics, tribes, pan-Arabic or Kurdist nationalist movements, etc.) that were opposed to U.S. occupation. The U.S. invasion was thus never well disposed to produce outcomes in Iraq resembling those of late twentieth-century Japan.

How do these lessons apply to Iran? In brief, we are wiser to rely on the internal dynamics of Iranian society to effect change than to try to force change through external pressure. Sanctions have brought Iran to the bargaining table, but if continued they are not likely to compel a fundamental restructuring of Iranian government or policy. The future shape of Iran will be determined by the desires of the Iranian people themselves and the success (or failure) of the regime in Tehran to fulfill them. While it is clear that Ayatollah Khamenei and his government are weakly motivated to conclude a deal with the U.S., it is equally clear that the Iranian people themselves feel very differently. The expressions of glee that have gone out over social media in anticipation of a deal demonstrate that, for many if not most Iranians, the current diplomatic initiative represents the eager hope that they might rejoin the community of nations and reenter commerce with the U.S. and its allies. If Tehran disappoints the Iranian people in this regard they will have a problem on their hands much more urgent than the stress of sanctions.

The Islamic Republic of Iran has not gone the way of the Japanese Empire because it still retains some critical part of the trust of the Iranian people. As the Green Movement of 2009 showed, however, that trust operates within discrete limits. The people of Iran are deeply nationalistic, and they assent to the legitimacy of the mullah regime because it has successfully defended the sovereign autonomy of Iran. However, Iranians are also very cosmopolitan and democratic in outlook. Many would like to see a return to the open and liberal policies of the Mossadegh era in the same way those of the Taishō reign were revived in Japan. If those desires are sufficiently frustrated, change will come to Iran as surely as it did to postwar Japan. For these reasons, the current diplomatic initiative of the Obama White House, despite risks, is nonetheless the wisest course.  Though the deal has entailed compromise, if Tehran acts in bad faith or does anything to preclude delivering upon the promise of this initiative to yield the benefits of openness and prosperity for the Iranian people, the mullahs will find that they have bargained for just enough rope with which to hang themselves.  


Monday, March 23, 2015

Plan Bibi

The most recent Israeli election compels Zionists to examine our principles. If the right of the Jewish state to exist is taken, as I and others hold, to entail a concomitant right of a Palestinian state to exist, Benjamin Netanyahu's victory is a distressing watershed. Given his declarations prior to the vote, what can Bibi's triumph mean except that a plurality of the Israeli electorate has rejected a two-state solution?  That being the case, Zionists both inside and outside Israel must radically rethink their commitments and weigh the relative importance of their priorities.

Herzlian Zionism has always been a conceptually vexed enterprise. The marriage of Jewish nationalism and liberal democracy is a shotgun wedding at best.  There is no practical way to perfectly reconcile the dual imperatives of maintaining a Jewish majority and safeguarding the equal rights of all citizens, thus under ideal conditions the Zionist state was foreordained to be beset by virtually perpetual civic turmoil and identity crises. This is why, before 1948, many of Zionism's most salient and intellectually astute spokespersons, such as Albert Einstein and Martin Buber, rejected the basic precepts of Theodore Herzl's state-Zionist vision.

This is not to declare, as anti-Zionists do, that Zionism is intrinsically illegitimate (or that it is, as the phenomenally malicious 1975 UN resolution deemed it, "racism"). The Holocaust proved Theodore Herzl's arguments for the need of the Jewish state to be prophetic and the idealism of anti-state Zionists such as Einstein and Buber to be naive.  However, the legitimacy of the Zionist state is contingent upon its continued and robust commitment to grappling with the contradiction between its liberal democratic and Jewish nationalist imperatives.

Since 1967, moreover, the strains upon that legitimacy have been egregious. The slim chance to maintain basic fairness for all living under the aegis of the Jewish state that would have existed under ideal conditions has been effaced by the occupation of 2.4 million Palestinians on the West Bank and the enforced deferment of sovereignty for 1.8 million Palestinians living in Gaza. Under those conditions, the Zionist project can only legitimately persist under the onus of an eventual end to the occupation and establishment of a Palestinian state. In the absence of a formal commitment to those ends, Israel devolves from a state of effective to constitutional apartheid. The legitimacy of the Zionist state thus hangs by a very slender thread.

No one understands this better than Benjamin Netanyahu. This is why his pre-electoral repudiation of a two-state solution was followed so swiftly by a post-election volte-face. The critical awareness evinced by his verbal gymnastics testifies to the rashness of his tactics. He knowingly gambled the international standing of the Zionist project on a bid to rescue his political career, a move that must mark him as one of the most un-statesmanlike politicians of recent times.

In the shadow of the Janus-faced prime-minister elect, Zionists across the globe, Jews and non-Jews alike, are compelled to reassess their positions. We are forced to reconcile our secular Zionist creed with the increasingly incontestable  and immutable reality that Israeli troops will never be withdrawn from the West Bank. One possibility is the embrace of a so-called "bi-national state." In this scenario, all current residents of the West Bank, East Jerusalem and Gaza (and potentially many members of the Palestinian diaspora) would receive full citizenship in Israel (then Israel-Palestine), which would no longer be the unique sovereign representative of the Jewish people, but would jointly embody the sovereignty of both the Jewish and Palestinian peoples.

This would be a fair resolution of the crisis. Yet even if the many practical obstacles to such a resolution could be overcome, Zionists might well resist the formation of a "bi-national state" as an inadequate agent for their political needs. Having witnessed the sheer malevolent destructiveness of modern anti-Semitism, the world should need little further demonstration of why the Jewish people desire a uniquely sovereign advocate among the community of nations, and why they might feel that a state whose focus was split between the Jews and any other people would be insufficient to the task warranted by the post-Holocaust world.

Are Zionists then forced to choose between a grudging (or hypocritical) endorsement of the status quo and continuing lip-service to an ever less-plausible two-state solution? A drastic re-conceptualization of the Zionist project is in order. If the occupation can not be ended, and a bi-national state is not acceptable, we are forced to imagine an alternative future in which Jewish sovereignty and Palestinian rights both find just expression and fulfillment.

Such ends might be served by a "two-state nation." That is to say, a single contiguous national territory (constituting all of pre-1967 Israel, Gaza, East Jerusalem, and the West Bank) housing two sovereign governments, that of Israel and Palestine, respectively. Israeli citizens living within the space would participate in the governing institutions of Israel, which would continue as they do now. Palestinian citizens would vote for and pay taxes to the Palestinian government, which could remain in the Palestinian Authority's current residence at Ramallah or be moved to some other location. The jurisdiction of both governments would run through the whole of Israeli-Palestinian territory, and the citizens of both states would have unrestricted freedom of access, able to work or reside at any location from the Golan Heights to the southern Negev, from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea. 

Before enumerating the obvious obstacles to this concept, let me list the problems it would solve. First and foremost, it would (at least notionally) end the occupation. As long as Palestinian forces were allowed to jointly patrol the streets of Tel Aviv, it would no longer be an impingement on Palestinian sovereignty for Israeli soldiers to protect Jewish settlers in the West Bank (or even the Gaza Strip). As long as religious Zionists respected the rights and property of Palestinian citizens, it would no longer pose a problem that they desire to reside within "Judea and Samaria." Congruently, the issue of the "Palestinian right of return" would no longer pose an existential threat to the Zionist project. Since geographic residence and citizenship would be disaggregated, it would no longer matter how many Palestinian refugees returned to homes within the pre-1967 boundaries of Israel, as they would do so as citizens of the new Palestinian state.

The practical complexities of such an arrangement are obviously rife. How two sovereign governments would share revenue, jointly police crime, divide the burden of national defense, and maintain the peace within the same territorial space are problematic questions, especially given the long-simmering resentments and destructively violent conflicts that roil the communities to be joined under this scheme. The concept may thus seem absurd, but it only appears more so than the status quo because we have become acclimated to the latter through long acquaintance. If we are forced to choose between absurdities, we are compelled toward those that are more just. The burden of living with the status quo might seem easier than that of grappling with a radically new future, but Benjamin Netanyahu's machinations have presented Zionists with an intractable conundrum. To call oneself a Zionist in the post-Bibi age is to be faced with a choice: either assent to the perpetuation of a manifestly unjust system; or explain how the dual imperatives of Jewish sovereignty and human rights can both be fulfilled given current realities on the ground in the Middle East.

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Radical Islam and the "War on Terror"

As a Jew and a Zionist, I often appeal to a particular thought experiment to illustrate the ill-wisdom of forcing American leaders to declare that the U.S. is at war with "radical Islam." Like other left-wing secular Zionists, I abhor the West Bank settler movement and the damage it has done to the prospects of peace in Israel and Palestine. Even so, slight variations in the rhetorical frame within which such opposition is voiced can elicit very different responses. A declaration that "those settlers are causing trouble in the West Bank" invites my support. The statement that "those Jews are causing trouble in the West Bank" awakens my suspicion and fear.

Much well-founded criticism has been leveled at the claim that the perpetrators of jihadi terror "are not real Muslims." As is true of the relationship between Judaism and the West Bank settlers, the goals and methods of groups like Al-Qaeda, Boko Haram, and ISIS can not be understood except by reference to Islam, thus any effective response to this threat must account for the role of Islam in its formation. But it is precisely because they and other jihadis are real Muslims, and will be recognized by millions of other Muslims as co-religionists, that their non-Muslim opponents must be extremely circumspect in invoking their Islamic identity.

A community in crisis naturally inclines to affirm the elements of their shared identity, especially in the face of outsiders, even at the cost of political liability. As an example, we can see that this principle has shaped the evolution of Zionism from its inception. Though the early Labor Zionist founders of Israel were thoroughgoing secularists, they knew that no movement for Jewish empowerment could achieve critical mass or strategic purchase without the participation of some part of the faithful. There has thus, extending back before 1948, always been a religious Zionist tendency at the fringe of Israeli politics. This state of affairs was reinforced by the experience of the Holocaust. If Zionism is a movement dedicated to defending the value and dignity of every Jewish life in the face of genocidal hatred, then that social compact must extend even to those misguided and malicious enough to desire the death of Yitzhak Rabin or the destruction of Muslim holy sites.  The messianic Zionism of the settler movement redounds to the detriment of all Jews. But, because they openly embrace and affirm the identity for which all Jews have been arbitrarily stigmatized, no Zionist of any stripe can wholly disown them or deny kinship with them.

An analogous principle is at work in the relationship of the advocates of "radical Islam" to the larger Muslim world. Though the global Islamic community is vastly larger than that of the world's Jews, and though Muslims have not been subject to a campaign of general extermination, much of the Islamic world today is nonetheless in crisis. This does not arise from a single threat or easily reducible problem. Rather, a complex of powerful forces and historical experiences- colonialism, commercialization, industrialization, the tensions of the Cold War (and its sudden end), the spread of new political forms and ideologies (nationalism, socialism, communism, fascism, republicanism, democracy, various forms of Islamism), the digital revolution, invasion, revolution, civil war- have radically destabilized the basis of society in a large part of the Islamic world, to varying degrees.

This complex of crises impacts every aspect of social and cultural life. The reactions it has evoked are multifarious and unpredictable. It is foolish, however, given the nature of human social life, to expect a majority of Muslims to abandon or ignore their commitments to Islam in the face of radical (and often destructive) change. Islam is implicated, for good or ill, in almost all of the power structures within which most Muslims live and with which they must interact on a daily basis. In societies ranging from Morocco to Indonesia, the position of, for example, a man within his family, or a wealthy women within her community, or a political activist in relation to the state, are all profoundly informed by the participation of these individuals in Islamic institutions and traditions. Even in cases where Islamic doctrine and practice is not clearly of benefit, such people can not openly break with Islam without abdicating any sense of normalcy and predictability in their social affairs, a prospect that few people will risk while they can feel the sands of history shifting beneath their feet.

Because maintaining one's position within the Islamic community requires that one acknowledge fellowship with all others that profess the faith, most Muslims will be hostile to any attack upon other Muslims as Muslims, even those to whom they are politically (even violently) opposed. Groups like ISIS, Al Qaeda, and Boko Haram are counting on this fact. The more that they can make the various conflicts in which they are engaged about Islam, the more support (active and tacit) they will draw from the communities in which they operate.

Al Qaeda, for example, has shown itself very clever in the manipulation of identity politics with the most recent attacks in France. The murder of the satirists at Charlie Hebdo was deliberately designed to make the fight about Islam. The perpetrators knew that many Muslims and non-Muslims would interpret the event and its aftermath differently. Non-Muslim citizens of industrial democracies were horrified by this assault on free speech. But many Muslim observers, not equipped to understand why the freedom to profane a sacred icon is so cherished in France and elsewhere, misinterpreted the intensity of anger evoked by the attack as a paroxysm of collective Islamophobia.

A similar principle was at work in the attack on the kosher grocery in the Ponte de Vincennes. Those who ordered this crime knew that they were opening the guilty wound of anti-Semitism in European memory. But they also knew that the many expressions of sympathy that went out over social media would be susceptible to different interpretation in Muslim communities. The millions of tweets of "Je suis Juif" were deeply appreciated by those like me who were made to feel most vulnerable by the Ponte de Vincennes attack. But just as I can not forswear all kinship with the radical settlers that have intruded in the West Bank, I can not claim surprise if many Muslims misinterpret "Je suis Juif" as a statement of at least tacit support for the form of religious Zionism I so vehemently oppose.

Because these cultural dynamics are at work for any non-Muslim who would fight against groups like Al Qaeda, it behooves the U.S. and its allies to refrain from making this conflict about Islam in any regard. Narrowing the focus to "radical Islam" might seem to clarify the issue, but this is false. If the U.S. is at war with "radical Islam," is it at war with Iran? With Hezbollah? With Hamas? Unless one can come up with a coherent explanation as to why these groups fall outside of the ambit of radical Islam, the category loses all strategic value. Conversely, to insist that the U.S. is, in fact, at war with these groups is to construct a war so ambiguous that it loses all strategic logic.

The greatest strength of groups like Al Qaeda, ISIS, and Boko Haram is rooted in the same source as their greatest weakness. Islam provides them with a framework within which to make claims on the fellowship and appeal to the sympathies of other Muslims. This is a very powerful and versatile mechanism, especially in nations like Afghanistan or Nigeria riven by deep ethnic and linguistic divisions. But in the same way that the messianic ideology of the West Bank settlers puts them hopelessly out of step with the practical conditions of the twenty-first century, the adoption of Islam as a political program renders jihadis strategically impotent along any long-term trajectory of global affairs. Jihadis offer prospective followers and subjects a teleology plotting all near-term purposes and solutions along a path that leads toward a world caliphate that, in the face of current conditions, can never and will never exist. Thus they are rarely able to initiate or effect any constructive project that cogently serves their ideological ends. They can (and must, if they are to credibly claim any relevance) kill or destroy anyone or anything that offends their dogmatic vision, but they can never build or establish any structure or institution that clearly and necessarily embodies their particular (ultimately phantasmal) world view.  Apart from tendentious appeals to bonds of Muslim fellowship, the only short-term traction that jihadis can achieve is to co-opt issues about which Muslims care independently of their commitment to Islam. Thus Al Qaeda and ISIS claim to fight on behalf of dispossessed Palestinians, or for the oppressed Sunnis of Syria, or against the oligarchs and aristocrats that collaborate with Americans and Europeans, even though there is no obvious logical connection between these goals and the establishment of a caliphate.

If the U.S. and its allies would exploit the greatest weakness of jihadis and deprive them of their greatest strength, we should avoid all formulations, logical or rhetorical, of a war on "radical Islam." The only way that a group like Al Qaeda can defer their inevitable arrival upon the scrapheap of history is to persuade as many people as possible that they are fighting in the cause of Islam, thus it would be supremely misguided of their opponents to corroborate that narrative in any way. The raw fact is that the U.S. is not facing "radical Islam" or "terror" in the abstract, but is embroiled in an asymmetrical war with specific groups (Al Qaeda, the Taliban, ISIS, etc.), each of which is pursuing power for its own purposes and within its own particular context. As is true in all asymmetrical conflicts, victory will depend much more on the skillful execution of political and ideological strategies than on battlefield success. In this regard, the politics of a war on "radical Islam" will invite military disaster.

What strategy, then, can succeed moving forward? Since any jihadi group can only sustain traction and momentum as long as it can make the fight about Islam, their opponents should do everything in their power to make the fight about something else. On the surface, this might seem easy, given the urgency and complexity of the crises ensuing in much of the Islamic world. Many millions of devout Muslims are mobilizing in support of women's rights, democracy, freedom of speech, economic justice, and religious tolerance. Each of these commitments puts multitudes on the opposite side of jihadis, despite their shared commitment to Islam. If jihadis' opponents (Muslim and non-Muslim alike) can make the struggle about these issues, the temporary lease on life that groups like ISIS and Al Qaeda have bought with the coin of Islamic piety will run out very quickly.

The difficulty, however, is in finding the ways that the U.S. and its allies, as outsiders, can meaningfully participate in these contests without adversely distorting them. Given the history of colonialism and exploitation that mars relations between large parts of the Muslim and non-Muslim world, any move on the part of a nation like the U.S. to champion, for example, women's rights, is vulnerable to being perceived as paternalism or cultural imperialism. This is not, however, an argument for inaction, but a caveat that any success in this arena is bound to be provisional, and an imperative for maximum sensitivity as to means. Both the invasion of Iraq and the award of the Nobel Prize to Malala Yousafszai, for example, might have evoked some ill will, but the latter is clearly a more effective way for non-Muslims to champion liberal ideals in the Muslim world.

As the last juxtaposition suggests, the military is a very blunt instrument, the effectiveness of which is chiefly limited to the tactical realm. This is not to minimize the military dimensions of the conflict. Asymmetrical war is still war, and anyone who argues against fighting jihadis when and where they take up arms has a difficult empirical task. I would argue, for example, that whatever sins of excess are embodied by the U.S. drone program in Pakistan are more than matched by our errors of deficiency in Nigeria.

Moreover, while the use of the military is chiefly tactical, it is not exclusively so. Our air campaign against ISIS in Syria might kill personnel and destroy equipment, but it is making no headway in the struggle to defeat that group. Because the human and material needs of an insurgent group are light, the power lost to casualties and destroyed equipment can easily be restored. Meanwhile, by tacitly partnering with the hated Assad regime, the U.S. has effectively reduced itself to the role of a partisan player in a sectarian conflict between Shi'ites and Sunnis. We have thus allowed ISIS to make the fight about Islam, when we should be working to make the fight about democracy and human rights. As long as the U.S. cedes opposition to the Assad regime to jihadis, no amount of American technological supremacy or tactical destructiveness will make real headway against ISIS.

In the horrifying and often surreal dance that has played out since 9/11, Americans and jihadis have viewed one-another as if through a glass darkly. "America" is not a real place in the ideology and rhetoric of ISIS or Al Qaeda, it is a symbol upon which they can project all of their complaints against the entire economic and social matrix of the twenty-first century. In the same way, America has served and continues to serve as the "Great Satan" for all types of groups pursuing imaginaries incompatible with current realities, from the partisans of "Greater Serbia" in the 1990's to the settlers trying to revive the "Kingdom of Judea" on the West Bank today.

Likewise, "radical Islam" is not a real or coherent entity. It is a peg upon which we Americans can hang our fears of enemies operating in distant circumstances, whose means and rationale we are not entirely equipped to understand. "Radical Islam" will exist so long as an unhappy, unfortunate, aggrieved, or simply alienated individual can co-opt Muslim doctrine to serve violent ends. That is to say, "radical Islam" will be here forever. If we want to fight a war that we can win, we should not fight a war against something that will never go away. Rather, we should fight to defeat ISIS, Al Qaeda, Boko Haram, the Taliban, and the other specific groups that are violently assaulting the U.S. and its allies. The most important tools we have for the conduct of that war are political, and the first task we must undertake in activating those weapons is to establish that the fight is not about Islam, but about the rights, lives, and autonomy of Muslims and non-Muslims alike.

Friday, January 09, 2015

A War of No Visible Prophet

The heinous murder of artists, journalists, staff and police officers at the offices of Charlie Hebdo has opened a new phase in the global paroxysm that began on 9/11. The Paris attack marks the emergence of a new and potentially dangerously effective strategy for the jihadist movement. As at 9/11, U.S. and allied leaders stand at a watershed moment, and their response to this crime will impact the course of global affairs for the next decade or more.

One of the problems that has most vexed observers and analysts of our post-9/11 world is that of the context in which jihadism should be understood. Who are the jihadis? Why have they emerged in the times and places in which they operate, and what drives them? Formulating an effective response to the challenge obviously resides in first answering such questions.

The answer that most profoundly shaped the initial international response to 9/11 was that posited by the White House as a corollary of the "Bush Doctrine."  President George W. Bush was careful to avoid identifying jihadism with Islam more generally, declaring that "[o]ur war on terrorism has nothing to do with differences in faith," and that groups like Al-Qaeda had "hijacked a great religion in order to justify their evil deeds."

But in formulating its rationale for the invasion of Iraq, the Bush administration situated jihadism into an expansive context much broader than that of the material operation of Al-Qaeda and its affiliates. In this view, jihadism was an expression of a deep social pathology afflicting many Islamic nations, but particularly those of the Arab Middle East. If freedom and democracy could be forced to take root in that region, the effects would reverberate outward, eliminating the underlying causes of terrorism more effectively than the simple pursuit of terrorists where and when they act.

Whatever one's opinion of this concept, subsequent events have undermined its traction as a principle of policy. The human and material costs of spreading democracy in the Middle East through military occupation have proven politically unsustainable.  Though debates over the wisdom of ending the occupation of Iraq are likely to continue indefinitely, until some dramatically ameliorating effects are felt (in other words, until there are no more heinous terrorist attacks like that just perpetrated in Paris), there is virtually no likelihood that the U.S. or its allies will ever embark on a similarly conceived venture in the future. The chapter of post-9/11 global affairs in which the Bush Doctrine informed the response to jihadism is thus at a close.

From the outset, a dissident answer to the conundrum of jihadism was exemplified by critics like Michael Scheuer. A former CIA operative, Scheuer argued in his book Imperial Hubris that the Bush administration's analysis of jihadism as a sociocultural pathology was misguided. Terrorism, in his view, was motivated by anger at U.S. foreign policy, and the actions of a group like Al-Qaeda should be viewed as "blowback" for the meddling in and exploitation of Middle Eastern countries by the American government and American corporations.

Though this view has held sway in many parts of the American left (and libertarian right), it has never made a real impact on U.S. policy. It has arguably been waning in influence, moreover, and the recent tragedy in Paris will no doubt undermine its persuasive power as much as it does that of the Bush Doctrine. If we follow Scheuer, the root causes of terrorism could (and should) be alleviated by changes in the foreign policy of the U.S. and its allies. But the attack on Charlie Hebdo can not plausibly be interpreted as "blowback." Would the murderers of Stephane Charbonnier and his colleagues be any less motivated to "avenge the Prophet" if, say, the U.S. withdrew its support from Israel or stopped drone attacks in Pakistan?  The logic of blowback does not help us make sense of this crime, or formulate a meaningful response.

Another alternative explanation of the phenomenon of jihadism is exemplified by critics such as Samuel Harris. Harris is an atheist and a self-professed liberal, but ideas analogous to his can be found on all parts of the political spectrum- right and left, secular and religious, moderate and extreme. Though varying widely in tone and logical coherence, these formulations commonly reject President Bush's assertion that "our war on terrorism has nothing to do with differences in faith." In this view, the origins of terrorism can not be disaggregated from the doctrine and practice of Islam. Islam exhorts its followers to violent jihad against the infidel, thus on some level a struggle against groups like Al-Qaeda and ISIS will inevitably and irreducibly be a struggle against Islam itself.

Unlike the "blowback" view, this perspective on the causes of and response to jihadism has been growing in influence, and is, understandably, likely to gain even more currency as a result of the murders in Paris.  The standard apologist response to the indictment against Islam, that jihadis like the murderers at Charlie Hebdo "are not real Muslims," is not credible in more than rhetorical terms. As Harris notes, many millions of Muslims, when polled as to whether transgressions such as defamation of the Prophet should be punishable by death, answer in the affirmative. Though there are scriptural and traditional precedents upon which one can draw to suggest that this view misunderstands the doctrine of Islam, there are likewise such resources that its proponents can cite in its defense. If, as we are forced to acknowledge, Islam is as Muslims do (and say), there is no way to completely acquit Islam of implication in the Paris murders and similar crimes.

However, though jihadis may be real Muslims, and though understanding and engaging their Muslim identity is necessary for anyone who would effectively oppose them, reconfiguring the struggle against jihadism as a response to "Islam" is fundamentally misguided. This is not because of some ethical imperative for religious tolerance or multicultural sensitivity. Rather, trying to defeat jihadism with a "war on Islam" ignores the basic logic of how religious traditions operate in human society and politics.

Any religious community, especially one as ancient, populous, and geographically dispersed as Islam, contains within it (in its scripture, rituals, literature, art, traditions, and institutions) a complex array of diverse and often mutually contradictory trends and imperatives. Is Islam a religion of "peace (the Arabic cognate of Islam- salaam)" or violent jihad? The only meaningful answer to this question is "yes."

At any given time, given the intrinsic volatility of human nature and the human condition,  almost all the potential tendencies of a religious tradition may be found in some part of its community. Thus in Christendom today we see Pope Francis I bathing the feet of prisoners in Rome while Terry Jones burns Korans in Florida, the Sisters of Charity nursing the sick in New York while the Lord's Army slaughters innocents in Uganda.  Parsing out which of these figures are "real Christians" is a futile exercise, and it is only slightly more so than trying to isolate the role of Christianity in their social conduct and profiles. Would any of these figures have acted in exactly the same manner if they were not Christian? Almost certainly not, but predicting how that difference would manifest itself is impossible.

The raw fact is that religion, pace the perspective of atheists like Samuel Harris, is an irreducible dimension of human social life. In everything we do, from the most mundane quotidian work to the most sublimely quixotic enterprises, we are faced with questions of ultimate value. Why does the world exist? What is life's purpose? How should we confront death? An individual may be able to go about his or her business without plumbing these questions too intently, but as soon as two or more people come together to attempt a project of even moderate complexity (build a house, start a family, found a city, wage a revolution) they require some sort of roughly consensual framework within which answers to these questions may be at least provisionally situated.

Every aspect of social life thus has at least a latent religious dimension, and every social project or conflict into which a community enters will implicate all of the religious commitments they have already made and any of the religious traditions they already inhabit. A Christian society that experiences some sort of trauma will respond in a way that expresses Christian values and traditions. But because Christianity is itself so multifaceted, and because people are ultimately free to select from, interpret, and transform their religion in ways that serve their perceived social interests and needs, the "Christian" responses to a crisis that emerge from the same community will almost invariably be numerous and mutually divergent. Every such moment of change thus constitutes three types of negotiation simultaneously: 1)a struggle over the new shape of society; 2)a struggle over the new relationship of religious to other social institutions; 3)a struggle over how the doctrines and practices of the religion will be interpreted moving forward.

Many cases could be taken to illustrate the point. That of Girolamo Savonarola, the charismatic Dominican friar who rose to become theocrat of fifteenth century Florence, is instructive. Italy at the time was in the throes of the Renaissance, a period of dramatic dislocation similar to our own age of globalization. Commercialization, urbanization, the rise of the bourgeoisie, and the flourishing of humanist art and literature were radically transforming the shape of Italian society. As all such revolutions, it benefited some groups and individuals disproportionately, creating winners and losers. Savonarola gave voice to all those who felt left behind by the new order of things. He preached a return to fundamental Christian values of austerity, humility, community, and faith, a turning back of the Renaissance tide. He famously ordered a "bonfire of the vanities," in which all of the humanist art and literature Florence had created were set aflame.

Unfortunately for Savonarola, the Catholic Church had by that time become an enthusiastic participant in and beneficiary of the Renaissance revolution. His tirades against ecclesiastical wealth and worldliness set him at odds with Pope Alexander VI, who was busy employing artists and sculptors to adorn the Vatican. Both men were wholly and authentically Catholic. If one had used today's empirical methods to test them one might have found very little daylight between them on points of doctrine. For example, if asked in a survey "Is luxury a source of sin?" both men would almost certainly have answered "yes." Yet Alexander felt no qualms about issuing an order for Savonarola's excommunication from the splendor of his palace in Rome.

So did Christianity create Savonarola or destroy him (he burned at the stake on the orders of a clerical tribunal in 1498)? The answer, again, can only be "yes." He and Pope Alexander were engaged in a struggle over the shape of both Italy and Christianity. If Savonarola had won, the Reformation might never have occurred, and the Sistine Chapel might look more like a Quaker meeting house than the ornate masterpiece that stands today. The more secular among us may dismiss him as a figure who was hopelessly out of step with modernity, but his writings continue to be studied and respected by Christian theologians of all denominations today.

The position of jihadis in relation to the greater world of Islam today is an analogous case. The vast majority of victims killed by Al-Qaeda, ISIS, and other jihadi groups were (and are) fellow Muslims. Some of this violence can be put down to sectarian or ethnic strife, but just as much of it is rooted in a contest over how Islamic values should be realized in society and politics (should civil law be taken from shar'iah? on whose authority? does Islam preclude the education of women, etc?), a conflict that is playing out among Muslims themselves much more intensely than between Muslims and "infidels." In the same way that one can not deny the authentic Muslim identity of Ayman al-Zawahiri or Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, one can not do so for that of Benazir Bhutto or Malala Yousafzai.

Given that we are witnessing a struggle for Islam within global Muslim society at large, it is supremely ill-advised for the leaders and citizens of the non-Muslim world to embark upon a struggle against Islam. Such a strategy can only strengthen the hand of those most hostile to pluralism and tolerance, and weaken those in the Muslim community most committed to peace and shared prosperity.  This fact is made clear by the jihadi strategy embodied in the most recent Paris attack.

Why target satirists?  Today's industrial democracies constitute a world in which "nothing is sacred," which is to say, one no longer inhabited by figures or institutions possessed of the total and unrestrained power wielded in the fifteenth century by Pope Alexander (or more recently by figures like Hitler or Franco). The postmodern denizens of this world can no longer venerate any symbol or value with complete sincerity, in part out of suspicion of possible abuse. Thus matters of ultimate significance can only be genuinely cast in ironic and satirical terms,  and the freedom to lampoon icons or institutions has become one of the last unequivocally cherished ideals of the social contract. 

For those living in countries like Syria, Egypt, or Saudi Arabia, this state of affairs is an inscrutable enigma. It is not merely the suppression of free speech that gives rise to this incomprehension, but the cultural dynamics of power with which many Muslims have to contend. To someone living under the rule of Hosni Mubarak, Bashar al-Assad, or Saddam Hussein, the sacrosanct status of Muslim icons and institutions provided the little latitude for safe movement and communication to be found in an otherwise lethally repressive society: some slight shelter from the secret police and the torturer could be sought in the mosque. The failure of such protections, moreover, was invariably cataclysmic and deadly serious, as when thousands were slaughtered in Hama, Syria to punish local Islamists in 1982.  We might hope that those living in this environment would yet object to the murders at Charlie Hebdo, but it would be a far stretch to expect them to understand the reasons for the anguish and outrage occasioned by this act in France, the U.S. and elsewhere.

This is the pernicious logic underpinning the Paris murders. On this issue in particular, many Muslims and non-Muslims are viewing one-another as if through a funhouse mirror, ill-equipped to understand one another's perspective. The terrorists who planned and ordered the Paris attack have discovered a perfect leverage point at which to drive a wedge between Muslim and non-Muslim society. Because the power of jihadis requires the maximally illiberal configuration of social and political forces in their own countries, and because they understand that Islamic identity is one of the few sources of personal empowerment experienced by multitudes throughout the Middle East, jihadis hope to enlist non-Muslims to broadcast the message that liberal values and Islam are fundamentally incompatible. Groups like ISIS are confident that people forced to choose between Islam and liberal ideals will choose Islam, and that the Islam that emerges from that negotiation will perfectly facilitate jihadi control of state and society.

This is a trap that the U.S. and its allies should obviously avoid. But how, then, to respond? In the short term, we should protect our artists, journalists, and entertainers from further attacks, as there are bound to be more. Even if fear dampens the impulse to satire, jihadis are likely to search out any expression that can be construed as offensive to Islam and make its authors a target. We should not allow such provocations to be fulfilled. Every threat must be treated seriously, every care taken to prevent tragedy.

In the wider scheme of things, America and its allies should refuse to engage the jihadis on their own terms. ISIS and Al-Qaeda declare that the goals Muslims care about- Palestinian independence, the liberation of Syria from the Assad regime, a fairer distribution of the Middle East's wealth- can only be realized through a holy war to establish a particular kind of restrictive religious order. As long as these goals remain unrealized and out of reach, jihadis are empowered to exploit the resulting disaffection, disunity and strife to seize control of the societies in which they operate. If the U.S. uses its political, economic, and (with due deference to the lesson of the failures of the Bush Doctrine) military power to effect meaningful change in these arenas, the support Al Qaeda, ISIS, and other jihadi groups currently enjoy will erode out from under them. A holy war is a war that jihadis will invariably win. To defeat the jihadis, we should not undertake a struggle against Islam, but work to foster the conditions that will secure a positive outcome in the ongoing struggle for Islam.

Wednesday, January 07, 2015

Murdering Laughter

The murder of twelve people at the offices of Charlie Hebdo, a satirical magazine in Paris, is an unforgivable crime. Ten of the twelve victims- Frédéric Boisseau, Cabu, Elsa Cayat, Charb, Honoré, Bernard Maris, Moustapha Ourad, Michel Renaud, Tignous, and Wolinski, were artists, editors, columnist and staff members in the employ of the magazine. Two policemen, Merabet Ahmed and Franck Brinsolaro, were also killed in the line of duty.  Humor has always been the chief target of those who purvey hatred and oppression, as laughter is one of the most powerfully subversive of human faculties. But humor is also one of the dimensions of our world that makes life most worth living. It thus takes a uniquely vicious sort of monster to destroy laughter. The images that Charlie Hebdo published were transgressive and provocative. But they were also funny in the most profound way. I post two of them here in memory of the slain.

Sunday, January 04, 2015

Islam, Modernity, and Culture

I have occasionally found myself in arguments over the question of whether Hitler was an atheist. These conflicts usually stem from the larger proposition that religion is a unique source of human woe, without which society would be much improved. Those who take this view are often deeply invested in the proposition that Hitler was a "believer" of one stripe or another. The question should be moot, as even if Hitler is retired, Mao, Stalin, Pol Pot, and others are waiting in the wings to exemplify atheistic mass-murder. But the Nazis so prepossess our collective imagination (ergo "Godwin's Law") that the state of Hitler's belief looms large in the universe of empirical tests.

In the years since 9/11 the greater question of religion's social role has tended, in the discourse of pundits and politicos, to focus ever more narrowly on the subject of Islam, a trend that has accelerated as groups like Boko Haram and ISIS began seizing headlines with lurid acts of terror. Commentators such as Sam Harris have made a cottage industry of critiquing Islam as a political and historical force.  The quality of such commentary has varied widely. As Kenan Malik observes in today's New York Times, "this debate remains trapped between bigotry and fear."

Malik insists, however, that the problem must be substantively addressed. As a cultural historian I agree with him on that score, though I depart from what I see as his implied conclusions.  Malik rejects liberal apologists, declaring that each recent act of terror "tells us something about the character of contemporary Islam and of Islamism..." More specifically, Malik views groups like ISIS as the aberrant legates of earlier militants: "Anti-imperialists of the past saw themselves as part of a wider political project that sought to modernize the non-Western world, politically and economically. Today, however... it is radicals who often regard modernity as a Western product, and reject both it and the West as tainted goods....The consequence has been the transformation of anti-Western sentiment from a political challenge to imperialist policy to an inchoate rage against modernity...[I]t is radical Islam that has become the lightning rod for this fury."

Islam would thus appear culpable in Malik's analysis, either for turning its adherents against modernity, or at least for lacking the wherewithal to constructively confront modernity: "What jihadism does not possess is the moral and philosophical framework that guided anti-imperialist movements. Shorn of that framework, and reduced to raging at the world, jihadists have turned terror into an end in itself."

Malik is no doubt right that groups like ISIS "have turned terror into an end in itself," but one may still ask whether this malignancy expresses a particular flaw in the culture of Islam. In this regard (pace Godwin's Law) I would argue that the case of Nazi Germany is a relevant comparison. Nazism (and Fascism more generally) expressed pent-up anger against social and economic trends that had been building for decades or centuries and that continue today. Many of the discontents with modernity that Malik ascribes to modern jihadists ("from individualism to globalization, from the breakdown of traditional cultures to the fragmentation of societies, from the blurring of moral boundaries to the seeming soullessness of the contemporary world") were likewise complaints of Hitler and the Nazi party.

The question of whether modern jihadism embodies some deep structural flaw in Islam is thus exactly analogous to the question of whether Nazism embodied some deep structural flaw in German culture or religion. In both cases one is confronted with an obvious empirical conundrum. These flaws, if they exist, do not express themselves similarly in others partaking of the same traditions, such as the Muslims of New York and Kuala Lumpur or the Germans of 1850 and 2015. 

Such questions, in the final analysis, misconstrue the way religion  and culture more generally operate in human society. It is true that a religion like Islam shapes peoples' outlooks and influences their choices. But at the same time any tradition, especially one as venerable and diverse as Islam, presents the community that perpetuates and uses it with an exquisitely complex array of resources for the structuring of personal and collective life. The choices particular communities make in activating and mobilizing those resources completely transform the complexion of the tradition from era to era or from place to place, potentially making it a force for peace and prosperity in one instance, strife and despair in another. Any critique of a tradition like Islam must thus proceed with sensitivity to this dynamic process always at work: the community shaping the tradition even as the tradition influences the community.

In this respect, Malik's assertion that "jihadism does not possess...the moral and philosophical framework that guided anti-imperialist movements" is inaccurately intransitive, at least as "jihadism" relates to Islam more generally. If jihadism lacks such resources it is because leaders like Ayman al-Zawahiri and Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi have deliberately excised the ideas of Islamic reformers such as Jamal ad-Din al-Afghani and Mahmud Shaltut, in the same way Hitler disowned German liberals such as Dietrich Boenhoeffer and Martin Niemöller.

In understanding the political misuses of tradition, the comparison between modern jihadists and the twentieth-century's Nazis is instructive. In the same way that jihadists idealize terror as "an end unto itself," the Nazis treated industrial murder as an ultimate purpose, requiring no justification beyond mass extermination for its own sake. It is this similarity that intuitively upsets anti-religious polemicists at the suggestion that Hitler was an atheist. The commonality in the political programs of these groups, however, is not rooted in some basic affinity between Nazi and Muslim "faith," but in the ways in which Nazis and jihadists appropriate and utilize German and Islamic traditions.

Ironically, the most striking similarity between Nazis and jihadists (and other similarly malevolent historical actors) is their understanding of culture itself- what might be called a "meta-cultural affinity." Both groups attribute the origins of culture to forces beyond human agency, to God in the case of jihadists, to "race" in the case of the Nazis. This is why both groups make such a fetish of annihilation. It does not matter that great wonders like the Bamiyan Buddhas are blasted to smithereens or that whole civilizations are wiped out. Since we bear no ultimate responsibility for cultural works, our role here and now is only to destroy, God/racial forces can be trusted to replace whatever is lost.

This is the lesson that history affords. Since any tradition, religious or otherwise, is a vital process continually reshaped by our choices, any can become a malignant force, and none more so than when we choose to abdicate our responsibility for and ongoing role in its shape and growth. It is in this light that I find the perspective of Islam's current critics, even one as sophisticated as Malik, unproductively reductionist. A religious tradition arises through a negotiation, not only among its adherents, but also with those outsiders amidst whom they live and with whom they interact. If we non-Muslims rest complacent in propositions like "contemporary Islam lacks a framework for dealing with modernity," we minimize the human agency of Muslims in ways common in kind (if not degree) to the doctrines of ISIS and Boko Haram. Better to expose and condemn the philosophical errors of particular Muslims than to lend fuel to their delusions with a blanket condemnation of the entire tradition that they misuse.

 

Friday, December 19, 2014

Kim Jong-un Can Kiss My Tuchus

I am distraught over the decision by Sony executives to cancel the release of "The Interview" in the face of North Korean intimidation. If it were only an issue of free speech or free commerce that would be bad enough. The shame of belonging to the generation that folded in the face of hacked emails and veiled threats while Pearl Harbor and Omaha Beach are still living memories is hard to bear. But it is the precedent that this capitulation sets that is truly intolerable. If North Korea can get everything it wants and more from this piddling act of terrorism, to what lengths will the next bully that doesn't like some aspect of U.S. culture go? A great American once warned against the capacity of fear to feed upon and perpetuate itself, and I wonder if our cravenness in this instance will plant a seed that will bear terrible fruit in years to come.

The custodians of the marketplace have failed us in this instance. It is up to us as individuals and citizens to redress this wrong. I hesitated to write this blog, as I am as vulnerable as anyone to cyber-mischief. But that hesitancy itself reinforced my distress at the insidiousness of this attack. So many of us now live, in part, on the internet. Thus, in subjecting Sony to digital retribution the North Koreans deliberately telegraphed that they can get to anyone.

There is only one answer for it. It has become the patriotic duty of every American (indeed, every citizen of the world) to publicly insult Kim Jong-un. If enough people do it, in blog posts, Twitter feeds, Facebook statuses, and other media, it will be impossible for the North Korean gestapo to retaliate against everyone.

I deliberated over whether I should title my blog "Kim Jong-un Can Kiss My Ass." It is true that the English insult is more immediately recognizable, so perhaps I have cravenly bought myself some cover by hiding behind a less widely familiar phrase. But it is not my fault if the North Korean espionage community is both vicious and clueless. Besides, if they are going to try to police comedy they had better buy themselves a Yiddish dictionary.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

All We Are Saying Is Forget Peace, Give Statehood a Chance

Over the summer, moved by the crisis in Israel and Gaza, I posted an open letter to my fellow Jews, pleading that we should support Israel by working for Palestinian statehood. Much of the response was positive and supportive. Among those who responded negatively, the chief complaint was generally some version of "but they want to kill us."

This objection underscores the need for a fundamental re-conceptualizing of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Though the resolution of this conflict does hinge upon a two-state solution, the assumption that the road to Palestinian statehood should be coterminus with a "peace process" is false. Because the possibility of peace depends upon Palestinian statehood, we have become accustomed to believe that peace is the necessary condition for a two state solution; that the fighting must stop before Palestinian sovereignty is acknowledged or achieved. This belief must be discarded.

The raw fact is that peace may never come, but for Israel to survive a two-state solution must come. Interminable occupation is not sustainable. However powerful Israel may be right now, given world enough and time the occupation will erode the foundations of Israeli state and society to the point of collapse. On the other side of the coin, annexation of the West Bank and Gaza is likewise not a path to Israeli survival. Unless that hypothetical "Greater Israel" practiced a form of intolerable apartheid, annexation would result in a new binational state that was majority Palestinian. While that might be fair, it would not be Israel, and it might not be practically sustainable given the hostility between Jews and Palestinians.

Israel and its supporters must stop thinking of a two-state solution as part-and-parcel with the "peace process," and instead view it as the core component of the "survival process." Indeed, a two-state solution is the next necessary step in any strategy to ultimately defeat extremist groups like Hamas. As long as the occupation continues, Hamas and its ilk will continue to have a critical mass of support in Palestine and abroad. Only when Palestinian sovereignty is achieved will the destructive consequences of Hamas's anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism begin to fatally erode its position in Palestinian society.

If Palestinian statehood were a greater threat to Israeli survival than the status quo I would oppose a two-state solution, but the reverse is true. Palestinian statehood will not appease Arab hatred of Israel or redress all of the Palestinian grievances that have inspired violence. While a formal state of war may not break out between independent Palestine and Israel, hostilities will certainly persist, perpetuated by elements within both Israeli and Palestinian society. The early months and years of Palestinian statehood might unfortunately be much more violent and destructive than even the recent crisis.

Even so, "but they want to kill us" is not an argument against a two-state solution. Palestinian statehood will not produce peace, but it will materially degrade the offensive capacity of Israel's enemies. With Palestinian sovereignty, much of the international opposition to Israel (embodied by groups like BDS) would evaporate. Even the worst case scenario, in which Hamas takes over the government of an independent Palestine, would ultimately work in Israel's favor. The governments of the Arab world loath Hamas only slightly less vehemently than Israel and its allies. A Palestine led by Hamas would find itself completely isolated and abandoned, finally giving the Palestinian people the motivation to dispose of Hamas root-and-branch.

There are many reasons why Palestinian statehood has not yet been achieved. Among these, however, the failure of political will on the part of Israel and its supporters has been central. This flaw stems in part from the false conflation of a two-state solution and peace as mutually co-dependent goals. Palestinian statehood is necessary, not because it will procure certain peace, but because it is the only way to vouchsafe Israel's survival. Thus to anyone who cares about Israel's future I say again: we must support Israel, we must work to establish a Palestinian state.

Thursday, October 09, 2014

Erdogan is not the Problem

As ISIS forces descend on the Kurdish city of Kobani, the Obama White House is reportedly "furious" at the refusal of the Turkish military to intervene. Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Turkey's president, has insisted that the United States must provide greater assistance to the Free Syrian Army and must declare a no-fly zone over Syria for the air force of the Asssad regime before Turkey will commit troops to the conflict. Turkey obviously has ulterior motives for refusing aid to the Kurds, but the self-righteous posture of the Obama administration is nonetheless unfounded and ill-conceived.

To any informed political observer, President Erdogan's demand for a no-fly zone over Syria is entirely predictable. One cannot pretend that fighting ISIS does not implicate oneself in the Syrian civil war- they are not mutually alienable endeavors. If the U.S.-led coalition attacks ISIS without taking steps against the Assad regime, it will (despite any rhetorical denials) be intervening in favor of an Iranian-backed dictatorship that has ruthlessly poisoned its own people. No one can be surprised that Recep Tayyip Erdogan, a man whose career has been built on the claim of being a champion of Sunni Islam, is seeking to avoid this kind of political morass. Anyone shocked by Erdogan's refusal to appear a pawn of U.S. policy and a traitor to the Sunni cause is either hopelessly naive, willfully ignorant, or both at once.

Erdogan's reticence, moreover, has good strategic basis beyond the surface politics of the situation.  As I have written in previous posts, the pursuit of a campaign against ISIS without concomitant action against the Assad regime is hopelessly impractical. President Obama has admitted as much in his stance toward the Iraqi government. If, as Obama has insisted, the formation of a government more inclusive of Sunnis is crucial to eroding the political support of ISIS in Iraq, a nation which is only twenty percent Sunni, how can the case be any different in Syria, where Sunnis make up three quarters of the population? As long as the Assad regime seems secure, a critical portion of the Syrian population will give at least tacit to support to ISIS. That support will only flee ISIS once the Assad regime is clearly on the way out. President Erdogan thus does not want to commit ground forces to a struggle that, absent the necessary strategic commitments, is doomed to indefinite stalemate.

If America genuinely wants to see the demise of ISIS it can not remain myopically focused on the group as a purely tactical challenge. We helped create the problem, which has complex social and political roots, and we can not bully the people of the Middle East into cleaning it up on our terms and our terms alone.  We have to commit to a more global resolution of the tensions and conflicts that are destabilizing the region, and we must allow the groups and agents that share our interests to pursue their own agendas within the scope of what is fair and politically sustainable. Instead of rolling our eyes and mocking leaders like President Erdogan, we should be listening, weighing the merits of his position, and prepared to negotiate.

Monday, October 06, 2014

The Umbrella Revolution

The courage and tenacity of the demonstrators in Hong Kong must both inspire and frighten informed observers watching events unfold from afar. The drama is inspiring because the proponents of the Umbrella Revolution are fighting for reforms that are both profoundly just and sorely needed, not only in Hong Kong but in the People's Republic of China more generally. It is frightening because anyone who remembers the events of June 4, 1989 can not help but fear for the lives and safety of the young people protesting today.

Because the peril is so real, it was a relief to see the government deadline this morning pass without violence. The stakes are very high for the government in Beijing. The pressures pulling China' s leaders in both directions- toward a peaceful resolution of the conflict on the one hand and a violent suppression of the movement on the other- are so intense that it is very difficult to predict how Beijing will respond or how the situation will ultimately be resolved.

Economic incentives drive Beijing toward non-violent means. The hard currency that flows into China through Hong Kong's financial markets is a major driver of growth and prosperity. Violence and instability that undermines investor confidence would kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.

Some political factors also constrain Beijing. The people of Taiwan see a mirror in the current crisis that they quite naturally assume reflects their own potential future. Taiwan already has its own autonomous and democratically elected government. Any Taiwanese wondering how much of that institutional structure the island would be able to retain in any hypothetical reunification with Beijing could be forgiven for concluding that the answer will soon come from Hong Kong. Why would Beijing tolerate more democracy and self rule in Taibei than in Kowloon?  A violent repression of the Umbrella Revolution will undoubtedly strengthen the hand of independence advocates in Taiwan, a development that could lead to a cross-straits crisis with broad international repercussions.

But other factors drive Beijing in the opposite direction, toward intransigence and, perhaps, violence. Where Beijing might want to project a face of tolerance and accommodation to the people of Taiwan, it has every interest in sending a contrary message to political activists in Xinjiang and Tibet. After sentencing Ilham Tohti, a Uighur scholar, to life in prison for having the temerity to promote the study of his own language and literature, Beijing's leaders can have no illusion about the dangerously mixed signals they will send by compromising with any movement promoting regional empowerment.

Economic conditions also complicate the pressures shaping Beijing's response to the Umbrella Revolution. Hong Kong enjoys a vastly greater per capita GDP than the rest of mainland China ($52,700 US as opposed to $9,800), thus one of the issues at stake is how much control the people of Hong Kong will have over the revenue that is extracted from them in the form of taxes. If Beijing controls the political leadership of Hong Kong, it retains power over the pipeline redistributing wealth from Hong Kong to the rest of China (of which Beijing is a prime beneficiary), and can dictate the rate at which that stream flows.

This might not be enough to move Beijing to violence, were it not for the fact that Hong Kong's fiscal relationship to Beijing, though exceptional in degree, is far from unique in kind. The per capita GDP of ALL of China's coastal cities, especially those south of the Yangtze River, is vastly higher than that of the interior and northern regions of the PRC. The one exception to this rule is Beijing, which has the highest per capita GDP of any region of China outside of Hong Kong: a situation created and sustained by the steady flow of tax revenue from the south and coast to the capital.  Any compromise with the people of Hong Kong could be the match that sets off a powder keg of resentments fostered by the forcible transfer of wealth from the south and coast to the north and interior.

Beyond these considerations, it is lost on no one that many of the demands of the Occupy Central movement echo those of the Tiananmen protesters twenty-five years ago. If the CCP accommodates the aspirations of the young activists in Hong Kong, it might open a Pandora's box that reveals similar hopes still alive among students in Guangzhou, Shanghai, and Beijing itself. China's leaders can not feel sanguine about that possibility.

However this crisis plays out, it has presaged the eventual demise of the Faustian bargain at the heart of the current Chinese social contract. Beijing has operated under the assumption that demands for political reform can be forestalled by continued economic growth and increasing prosperity. Hong Kong demonstrates that this assumption is false. Hong Kong's people already enjoy vastly greater prosperity than the majority of China's citizens, yet the prospect of losing that wealth has not deterred them from demanding democracy and autonomy. Indeed, it is the desire to protect and sustain their economic good fortune that drives them to agitate so urgently for democratic reform. However compliant the people of the rest of the PRC may be for the time being, eventually (after however many years or decades) they will arrive at the same place the people of Hong Kong are at right now: viewing political reform as a non-negotiable necessity.

For this reason (among others) the leaders of the PRC should be very cautious and circumspect in their response to the Umbrella Revolution. They face a choice that may well determine whether the inevitable evolution of the Chinese state and polity unfolds peacefully and progressively or violently and tragically. As they weigh their options they should know that the world, and history, are watching.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

ISIS and Assad: Two Parts of the Same Problem

When , on the eve of the thirteenth anniversary of 9/11, President Obama addressed the nation about the threat of ISIS, it underscored the extent to which the world has changed and the parameters of foreign policy have shifted. Today the U.S. is faced with a complex and volatile globe. It is a world in which there are no easy choices or simple solutions.

The threat of ISIS is real and the President struck the right tone in signalling America's determination to confront it. It was also reassuring to hear the President declare that U.S. action against ISIS would not be undertaken in cooperation with or to the benefit of the Assad regime in Syria. But such circumspection concerning the Assad regime will not suffice in formulating a credible and effective strategy against ISIS. ISIS and the Assad regime are mutually reinforcing pathologies, and neither one of them can be redressed in isolation from the other.

This principle is a natural extension of the President's own logic. He insisted that the Iraqis had to form a new, more inclusive government as a precondition for US assistance against ISIS, on the assertion that the exclusive and discriminatory policies of the al-Maliki regime had fueled ISIS's rise. As I wrote previously, this argument was empirically weak, as the Iraqi military's lack of air power goes much farther toward explaining why it performed so badly against ISIS than the political profile of the al-Maliki government.

Where a political explanation is not persuasive in the case of Iraq, however, it is virtually the only way to understand ISIS's purchase in Syria. The Assad regime has all of the modern weaponry that the Iraqis lack, and at one time controlled Syrian society with an iron fist. The only reason ISIS has been able to invest so much Syrian territory despite the overwhelming tactical advantage of the Assad regime and its military is that, in the wake of the Arab Spring, the legitimacy of the Assad government has collapsed in the eyes of a critical majority of Syria's people, who will no longer tolerate living under its rule.

If there was ever any argument that political change was necessary in Iraq in order to contend with ISIS (and there admittedly was, albeit provisionally), that argument is exponentially more forceful in the case of Syria. President Obama promises to bring massive U.S. air power against ISIS, and this is no doubt the right course. But events in Syria up to now prove that air power will not be enough. The Syrian government, which is much closer to the scene of ISIS's activity and has greater intelligence and human assets to bring to bear, has been using air power against ISIS to no avail. As long as the Syrian people perceive ISIS to be an effective opponent to the Assad regime (that is, as long as the Assad regime exists), they will provide ISIS with enough support to survive in the face of superior firepower.

Final defeat of ISIS will thus require a strategy that combines tactical and political elements. If the U.S. is to truly commit to the final destruction of ISIS, it must simultaneously commit to an end to the Syrian civil war. If the threat posed by ISIS was so grave that we could refuse protection to Iraq, an ally we had occupied for 10 years, in order to assure the conditions for ISIS's defeat, it is a short leap to insist that the Syrian government, one which has been hostile to the U.S. for decades, must undertake changes in the interest of U.S. national security.

Whether the U.S. acknowledges it or not, by declaring war on ISIS it has become a combatant in the Syrian civil war. As such, it should explicitly lay out the terms of its involvement in the Syrian conflict. Effective immediately Syria should be declared a no-fly zone for the aircraft of the Assad regime. Assad forces should understand that if they launch ground operations against the Free Syrian Army or its allies they will be met with American air strikes. If Bashar al-Assad steps down and his regime submits to negotiations for the formation of a unity government with the Syrian National Council, a reconstituted Syrian military (and its air force) could join in partnership with the U.S. and its allies in the fight against ISIS. Unless and until that occurs the Syrian government should be treated as a hostile force.

These are audacious and risky policies, but they are the only course that has any hope of redressing the threat posed by ISIS. Any attempt to impose a purely tactical solution on the situation in Syria will result in an endless quagmire. Until the problem posed by the Assad regime is finally redressed, the chaos created by ISIS will continue to spin further out of control.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

The Wages of Retrocolonialism

If there were ever any doubts that ISIS (the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria) poses a threat to the international community, or that they are on a direct train, fast or slow, to the scrapheap of history, the vicious murder of journalist James Foley should have dispelled them. As clear as the problem may be, however, its causes and possible remedies remain murky in the discussions of pundits and politicians. The scramble to both assign blame and appear decisive in response has, predictably, produced a muddle of implausible diagnoses and cures.

Though there are many dimensions of this discourse one might examine, the discussion of American policy toward Syria is a particularly illuminating point of departure.  Critics of the Obama administration fault the president for failing to arm the moderate Syrian opposition. The president responded to this criticism by noting that: "[The idea of] farmers dentists and folks who have never fought before going up against...ruthless, highly trained jihadists if we just sent a few arms is a fantasy. And I think it's very important for the American people - but maybe more importantly, Washington and the press corps - to understand that."

The empirical case supporting the president's reasoning here is very strong. If the Iraqi military, trained and armed by the United States for a decade, could not defeat ISIS during the battle for Mosul, it is foolish to insist that a small ragtag band of Syrian militia could fare well against ISIS given some fraction of that support. However, this type of logic only yields good results if it is applied rigorously and consistently.

Alongside his credible assessment of the Free Syrian Army's chances against ISIS, President Obama has been adamant in insisting that the key cause for the rise of ISIS was the exclusive and discriminatory policies of Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki: "The only lasting solution is for Iraqis to come together and form an inclusive government — one that represents the legitimate interests of all Iraqis." Inclusiveness and toleration are no doubt virtues that would serve any government well, but the idea that they could have prevented the rise (or can hasten the defeat) of ISIS is dubious, as demonstrated by the experience of neighboring Syria. No one would call the government of President Bashar al-Assad a model of inclusiveness, but his army was making gains in the field against ISIS even as Mosul fell. If one is going to compare apples to apples, as President Obama did in juxtaposing the Free Syrian Army to the Iraqi military, one must likewise assess the performance of Nuri al-Maliki's government against the other government that has opposed ISIS, that of Bashar al-Assad.

What could explain the disparity between Syrian and Iraqi military performance against ISIS? I would suggest that there is a rather simple answer that policy makers and commentators on all parts of the political spectrum have largely ignored.

By the end of 2013, the Syrian Air Force had 469 combat and reconnaissance planes in operation, mainly consisting of MiG-21 and MiG-23 jets. The Iranian Air Force has more than 600 fighter jets of various types. The emirate of Oman, a country of roughly four million people, has 12 American F-16 and 10 British Hawk 203 fighter jets, and is expecting delivery of another dozen British Eurofighter Typhoons.

At the time that ISIS captured the city of Mosul, the Iraqi air force had only two planes, both Cessna prop planes modified to carry Hellfire missiles. This last fact is key to understanding the current crisis in Mesopotamia and the Levant. It exemplifies the culture of error that has driven U.S. policy since the 9/11 attacks.

Why would the Republic of Iraq, a country of more than thirty-six million people, once home to one of the world's largest military forces, engaged in a decade-long civil war, be possessed of only two propeller-driven Cessna planes to serve as its air defense? What nation would risk being so lightly armed? The answer, of course, is that no sovereign nation would.

Air power is what distinguishes the army of a sovereign state from the paramilitary and insurgent forces that have proliferated since the end of the Cold War. Modern foot soldiers maintain discipline and mission focus in the face of extremely hostile circumstances, in part, because they know they can count on the logistical and tactical support of a sophisticated air wing. In 2014, an army that goes into battle with two armed Cessnas is not a real army, and the government commanding that army is not a real government. Is it any wonder that men who knew they were part of a fake army fighting in the name of a fake government should lose morale and break ranks when faced with a comparably armed force driven to suicidal frenzy by religious fervor?

This circumstance trumps all other variables in discussing the career of ISIS leading up to and beyond the capture of Mosul. Arguments over the training of the Iraqi military or the retention of U.S. combat forces in Iraq are rendered pointless by the raw reality of Iraq's neutered air defense. If the U.S. had kept 50,000 soldiers in Iraq until 2025 and only then left Iraq armed with two Cessna planes, by 2028 the country would have descended into a civil war just as destructive as we see today.

The fact that Iraq lacks a credible air defense has nothing to do with the wishes of anyone in Baghdad, it was mandated in Washington. Washington has refused to allow Iraq to arm itself because that would put Iraqi politics totally beyond the control of the United States. Some of this is no doubt an expression of the soft bigotry of low expectations. U.S. leaders do not trust Iraqis to manage their own affairs, thus they deny them the tools to genuinely do so even as they spout rhetoric about Iraqi accountability.

The absurdity of the situation, however, is driven to a large degree by systemic factors intrinsic to American politics. Since the 2003 invasion U.S. elected officials have been politically liable for the performance of the Iraqi government.  This vulnerability has driven American policy decisions, not only in Iraq, but in the larger Middle East, for most of the Bush and all of the Obama presidencies. An American leader contemplating giving fighter jets to Baghdad has to worry about the prospect of their being used against the Kurdish regime in Erbil. Giving planes to the Kurds might result in their being used against the Turks. The downing of a Malaysian airliner by Russian separatists in the Ukraine provided an object lesson in the unpredictable volatility of war by proxy, and American leaders are accountable to forces (the media, the political parties, the voting public, etc.) with which Vladimir Putin need not contend.

All of this is to say that Colin Powell's oft-quoted "Pottery Barn" rule ("You break it, you bought it") did not nearly approximate the policy vexation confronting the U.S. in the wake of the invasion of Iraq. By expending so much blood and treasure on the dismantling of Iraqi state and society, the US assumed an exquisitely tangled complex of horizons of virtually infinite liability. The question of how to maneuver amid so many pitfalls of shifting contingency has predictably resulted in a general climate of paternalism and paralysis.

The neoconservative dream was to turn Iraq into a democratic, sovereign ally of the United States. The nightmare that ensued in the wake of the U.S. invasion has turned Iraq into something entirely different. U.S. policy toward Iraq does not merit the label "colonialism," as U.S. leaders have eschewed the level of responsibility and engagement of a genuine colonial metropole. Neither can it be called "neocolonialism," as it is far more intrusive than any cases previously falling under that rubric. Instead, since the invasion of Iraq U.S. policy has embarked upon a kind of "retrocolonialism," an attempt to exercise all of the control of an old colonial power with none of the effort or sacrifice.

This has predictably led to tragic consequences, of which the rise of ISIS is only the most recent and alarming. Moreover, despite the ample evidence of folly, the U.S. seems incapable of changing course. This may be because the remedy for the ills of retrocolonialism is counter-intuitive. If we are suffering now for aspiring to too much control with too little effort, the answer is not disengagement, but a full reversal of the dysfunctional dynamic: less control, MORE effort.

What would this entail? "Less control" is fairly self-explanatory. The U.S. must begin to trust the people of Iraq, Syria, and the Arab world more generally to run their own affairs and conduct their own politics. But this does not mean that the U.S. should abdicate all engagement or influence in Middle Eastern affairs. If there are groups whose interests align with our own, we should assist them even if the results of that assistance are unpredictable and beyond our ultimate control.

Syria provides a case in point. President Obama is correct that providing small arms to the Free Syrian Army would have produced dubious results against ISIS. But that is because, in its dealings with the FSA, the U.S. has remained focused on getting it to do what is in America's interest rather than on assisting it (and the larger Syrian resistance of which it is a part) to achieve its goals. The FSA might be a much larger and more powerful force today (and ISIS much weaker) if, from the outset, America had committed robustly and decisively to the resolution of the Syrian civil war. If the U.S. had declared a no-fly zone over Syria in 2011 or 2012, the FSA might have enjoyed the same success against the Syrian military (deprived of an air wing as the Iraqi military is today) as ISIS did more recently in the assault on Mosul.

We did not provide that kind of robust assistance to the Syrian resistance in 2011 because we could not control the ultimate outcome of the Syrian civil war, and feared that the fall of the Assad regime might empower militant Islamists. Yet despite all that caution, ISIS is more powerful in 2014 than any Islamist group in 2011 or indeed ever in history. We must begin to understand that, in the wake of the Arab Spring, groups like ISIS are as empowered by American inaction and disengagement as anything the U.S. might do.

ISIS's ideology and strategic culture (for example, its ability to motivate members to engage in suicide attacks) makes it uniquely effective in an assymetrical struggle like the Syrian civil war. The longer that war dragged on and the more desperate the position of the resistance became, the greater the ranks of ISIS grew. For all its new strength, however, ISIS has not been able to defeat the well-armed Assad regime. It has thus shifted focus to the "soft targets" of Baghdad and Erbil. Even here, its success has been provisional. Though the Iraqi military forfeited the majority Sunni city of Mosul, when Baghdad was threatened, volunteer Shi'ite militias were able to check ISIS's advance. All of this indicates that though the extraordinary circumstances of the U.S. invasion of Iraq and the Arab Spring have given ISIS remarkable momentum, there are powerful forces within Iraqi and Syrian society that constrain and counteract ISIS's advance. If the U.S. hopes to defeat ISIS in the long term, it must trust those forces and lend them robust aid, even in the absence of short-term control over outcomes.

"Trust" is the crucial word here. If we are to genuinely trust the Iraqi government, we must allow it to become fully sovereign and develop all of the military capabilities of a nation-state. If we are to trust the Free Syrian Army we must not only provide them with small arms, but assist them with air power in all of their operations, not only against ISIS but also against the Damascus regime.

Already some pundits are squawking that we should partner with the Assad government in Damascus in the fight against ISIS. This is the same kind of retrocolonial thinking that has led us down the primrose path to the current crisis. The Assad regime is a known quantity, so goes this reasoning, while the victory of the Free Syrian Army would create an unpredictable and uncontrollable situation that might bring into power Islamist groups with which the FSA is still allied. This paternalism can lead nowhere good. Conspiring to impose upon the Syrian people a regime they have fought and died to remove will rebound back upon the United States in ways that are impossible to foresee, but the severity of which are pictured in the disgraceful murder of James Foley.  Less control, more effort, more trust.  If the U.S. ever hopes to set its policy orientation toward the Arab world on a functional footing, it must begin to trust the Arab people themselves, and understand the role they play in determining their own destiny. 

Saturday, August 02, 2014

An Open Letter to My Fellow Jews



Dear Friends,

        Like you I am grief stricken by recent tragic events in Israel and Gaza.  Our community is as distressed as I have seen it in my adult memory, and rightfully so. There is a sense that we have entered a moment of significant crisis.  Though strife in and around Israel is something we have come to accept as virtually inevitable, the current troubles seem to constitute a turning point, and not for the better.
        At this time of turmoil I have one plea to make to our community at large. We must support Israel. We must work toward the establishment of a Palestinian state.
        Note that I say “one plea,” for that is precisely what I mean. As a Jew and a Zionist, I firmly believe that the most important, perhaps the only way that we can support Israel in the long term is to work toward the establishment of a Palestinian state. Israel is losing in the struggle to preserve the Zionist mission, and the only way to set the deteriorating situation on a new course is the fulfillment of a two-state solution.
        Why do I say that Israel is losing? In the short term Israel is not in existential danger. The Israeli state and military are very powerful and very secure. But every conflict has two dimensions: the tactical and the political. For the moment the Israelis enjoy substantial tactical superiority, both with respect to the Palestinians and in terms of the region as a whole.
        But in the political realm a crossroads has been reached. World opinion is turning against Israel, and this downhill slide will continue indefinitely if it is not redressed. The effects of this shift will not be felt immediately, but over years and decades it will begin to sap the political and economic energies of Israeli state and society, undermining Israel’s strategic security. If nothing is done, generations to come will mark the current crisis as the starting point of a long process that led to the disintegration of the Jewish state.
      Why is world opinion turning against Israel? Anti-Semitism accounts for some of the anger and condemnation that is being expressed in the international media, but we would be foolish to imagine that this is the whole of the matter. Nor can ignorance be assumed to account for whatever anti-Israeli feeling does not stem from anti-Semitism. The world is aware that Hamas is an evil and depraved organization. The nihilistically genocidal nature of its charter and ideology has been well publicized, and everyone can see the deliberate and malignant manner in which Hamas uses innocent civilians as human shields.
        Why, then, would current events erode Israel’s position in global politics?  It is because the issue of Palestinian statehood remains unresolved. As much as world opinion generally (with some exceptions) acknowledges the right of Israel to exist and defend itself, it also affirms the right of the Palestinian people to a sovereign state of their own. As the fiftieth anniversary of the occupation of the West Bank draws nigh, the patience of the world to see this problem settled grows thin. With each passing year, the argument that Israel is fighting to defend itself is undermined by the appearance that Israel is fighting to block the establishment of a Palestinian state. The more this situation persists, the less attention the global public will pay to the particulars of Hamas’s doctrine or strategy, and the more they will focus upon images of the destruction produced by Israel’s military, no matter how restrained the Israelis may be in the exercise of force.
        Continued protests about the very real villainy of Hamas will progressively lose effect in the face of this reality. Almost no winning cause in history would have done so if it was required that its proponents all be moral paragons. Without ardent Stalinists, Hitler would not have been beaten; without fervent slave owners, the American Revolution would have gone down to defeat. It does not matter that Hamas’s methods are evil or that their ultimate goal extends far beyond Palestinian nationalism. In the short term they derive political capital from fighting for a cause that is generally acknowledged as justified.
      This may seem unfair, but it is a brute fact that cannot be escaped. Nor are arguments over whether anyone is right to support Palestinian statehood sensible or productive. If Israel annexed the West Bank and Gaza today and made all of its inhabitants citizens, it would no longer be a demographically Jewish state. The only alternatives left to Zionists are thus either ethnic cleansing or a two-state solution. Since the former option is both immoral and impossible, the establishment of a Palestinian state is the only way to end the military occupation soon to enter its sixth decade, and the world knows that.
        One might protest that the establishment of a Palestinian state would give Hamas what it wants. To this one can only answer that if it is so, Hamas should be careful what it wishes for. Of course the creation of a Palestinian nation would not make all of Israel’s problems go away. Strife and violence would continue. The nightly news might look very much the same in the wake of Palestinian sovereignty as it does today. There would be a very real difference, however. If Hamas launched rockets from sovereign Palestinian territory, there could be no pretence that it was anything other than aggression bent on the destruction of Israel. In that situation, all of the facts about Hamas’s perversion and malevolence would regain the currency that they have gradually lost in recent years.
        In that new political climate, much of the anti-Israeli activism in Europe and America would evaporate. Organizations like BDS would find fewer and fewer supporters. Mainstream citizens who have joined anti-Israeli protests in recent years would move on to other issues, leaving only the most diehard anti-Zionists to fight from the margins.
        In the Middle East the effects could likewise be significant. Hamas might find that it not only has fewer supporters abroad, but at home as well. Once sovereignty is achieved, Palestinians’ tolerance for Hamas’s rocket attacks and the destruction they bring in retaliation would quickly run dry. A people given a proprietary stake in their own nation might show little enthusiasm for the fight to establish an imaginary future caliphate.
        For all of these reasons, as a people we should unite in focusing our political energies on the achievement of a two-state solution. If we care about Israel and want to see its future secure, our congregations, our civic groups, our rabbinical leaders, and we ourselves as individuals should take up the cry in ways big and small. Write letters to political leaders in Israel and abroad. Reach out to Palestinian groups that support peace. Donate money to organizations like the Israel Policy Forum that are working toward a two-state solution.
        As Jews we believe that the world is not going to fix itself, we must put our hands to the work. If we want Israel to remain a vital piece of the global tapestry, a new piece must be added. Whether there has ever been a state such as Palestine is an academic question that is ultimately of little consequence. One thing, however, is for certain: without Palestine, eventually there will be no Israel. We can not let that come to pass. We must support Israel. We must work toward the establishment of a Palestinian state.

                                            Shalom,



                                            Andrew Meyer