Window Seat on the World Page 15

  In terms of West Bank borders, there has been widespread discussion over the years about Israel pulling back to the boundaries existing before the Six-Day War in 1967. The challenge is that since then, about 500,000 Jews have moved into lands that would have been considered part of Palestine.143 That raises the challenging question of how to remove these settlers or arrange land swaps, letting them remain but providing replacement territory to the Palestinians.

  In a similar vein, Jerusalem had been divided before 1967, but Israel seized Jordanian-controlled East Jerusalem during the Six-Day War. That area includes some of the holiest sites in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, including the Western Wall, the Dome of the Rock, and the al-Aqsa Mosque. The question today is what to do with the large number of Jews who’ve moved into that area, as well as how to guarantee access for all sides to their respective religious sites.

  Finally, “right of return” goes to the heart of Israel’s future. An estimated 7 million Palestinians—many living in the West Bank—could move if they were allowed to occupy the homes they or their ancestors formally owned.

  The challenge there is that the total population of Israel is only 8 million, including 1.5 million Arabs already living in the country.144 Allowing a large influx of Palestinians into the State of Israel would leave Jews as a minority within their own country, which the Israelis won’t tolerate.

  That problem has always propelled talk of a so-called two-state solution: one area for Israelis, another for Palestinians. The Israelis wouldn’t want to be subordinate to Palestinians in what they consider their homeland, and the Palestinians wouldn’t want to live in an Israel where they didn’t have equal rights.

  For that reason, Kerry and others said without reaching a deal for two states, Israelis would have to choose between living in a homeland that was Jewish or one that was a democracy. Jews couldn’t give equal voting and residency rights to the Palestinians who outnumbered them without surrendering control of their state.

  The alternative of a separate Palestinian state prompted talk about compensation for those who wouldn’t be allowed to return to their ancestral homes and the Palestinians who’d have to be resettled from Israeli territory.

  From virtually his first meetings to his last, Kerry reiterated that the issues were clear. What was needed, he argued, was the will from both sides to resolve them once and for all.

  During his speech to the American Jewish Congress, after barely three months of talks, he broached the question many were already asking: “What makes this different from every other time?”

  Then the secretary answered himself.

  “If we do not succeed now, we may not get another chance,” he said.

  The secretary believed continued Israeli settlement construction, in particular, could make a contiguous Palestine not just impractical but impossible.

  “We can’t let the disappointments of the past hold the future prisoner. We can’t let the absence of peace become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The absence of peace is perpetual conflict,” he said.145

  Despite the clarity of issues and the simplicity of his argument, Secretary Kerry found himself embarked on an elusive quest.

  “Were you ever scared?”

  The answer to that question, asked of me by a number of people, is yes, a couple of times.

  While we were always well protected, we still felt nervous heading into war zones, such as when John Kerry became the first secretary of State to visit Somalia.

  The thing is, we had our guard up there. More surprising were the times we didn’t expect trouble.

  Once, we were in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, when I had to head back to our hotel early from the African Union Commission headquarters.

  A locally employed staffer from Embassy Addis Ababa drove me and speechwriter Steve Krupin; but since we weren’t with Secretary Kerry in the official motorcade, we had to fight through the usual city traffic.

  We were fine for a while as the driver took a series of backstreets, but then we turned a corner and came to a dead stop on a road crammed with cars and people.

  (Top) Secretary Kerry listens before delivering remarks at Gandhi Memorial Hospital, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, on May 1, 2014.

  Ethiopia is a beautiful, peaceful country, and its people are some of the kindest I met not only in Africa but also back in the United States. But the country and its capital city are also relatively poor, especially those who surrounded us in that traffic jam.

  Sitting with valuable camera and computer gear on my lap, I was anxious because we didn’t have a clear way out if someone made a grab for it. Police on the streets were carrying AK-47s and large canes. So I asked the driver to take a right, regardless of where it led.

  He reluctantly agreed, but soon we hit another road filled with traffic and people. I told him to go right again, just to head in a direction where we wouldn’t be surrounded and incapable of moving.

  My concerns quickly dissipated after he made a few quick turns and emerged on the road leading to our hotel.

  The second time I was fearful also was in Africa, but not because I was concerned about my well-being. I was worried about the people around us.

  We were heading into Abuja, Nigeria, to attend the inauguration of newly elected President Muhammadu Buhari when a crowd lining the road began to squeeze in from the shoulders as we came upon a viaduct.

  A crowd begins to surround our motorcade en route to the inauguration ceremony for Nigerian president Muhammadu Buhari in Abuja, Nigeria, on May 29, 2015.

  I knew our drivers weren’t going to stop for anything—that’s Security 101—but the stakes ratcheted up exponentially as enthusiastic people surrounded the cars to cheer Secretary Kerry.

  A couple splashed the windshield with water from their water bottles, but then one man jumped on the hood of the spare limousine. If he slipped forward, we’d run right over him.

  For a few gut-wrenching moments, things hung in suspended animation. Then he was able to roll to the side and off one of the front fenders.

  We forged ahead with everyone unscathed.

  WE TRAVELED TO ISRAEL so frequently our trips had a familiar routine. As Kerry told his assistant secretaries during a meeting in January 2014, “There’s a certain Groundhog Day aspect to my visits.”146

  We’d depart from the United States in the evening and refuel in the middle of the night in Shannon, Ireland. We’d then fly on to Tel Aviv. Our plane would make a long taxi across Ben Gurion Airport and pull to a stop under heavy security.

  When the secretary stepped off, he’d be greeted by an Israeli Protocol official and US ambassador to Israel Dan Shapiro. The rest of the receiving line usually included members of his negotiating team and other Israeli officials.

  There also was the team from the US embassy in Tel Aviv. One, a former Israeli soldier, would take photos for the embassy website. His partner would shoot video. Another staffer would help handle the traveling press corps. And a rotating cast of State Department employees posted to Tel Aviv from the United States would spread throughout the motorcade, making sure everyone got to the right place in time.

  While the Israeli nationals were as loyal to the United States cause as the American staffers, in Israel, there is a melding of national and vocational pride. I’d laugh when the US embassy photographer—that former Israeli soldier—would shout instructions to the Israeli prime minister about where to stand for a photo. I also chuckled when the prime minister would invite the photographer to take a photo at what was supposed to be a closed meeting with Secretary Kerry. It also wasn’t uncommon to see our press handlers who were Israeli sharing drinks or a meal with the Israeli government Protocol folks after a long day.

  Of course such bonding is good professional etiquette, but the Israelis—on either side of the negotiation—shared a communal and nationalistic bond transcending any differences between their own government and the United States.

  We’d travel in armored passenger vans from Tel Aviv along Highway
1, through the Ayalon Valley mountain pass, to Jerusalem. Along the way, we’d pass old rusted military vehicles left in place to remind passersby of the armored convoys that tried to bring supplies to Jerusalem during the 1948 War of Independence.147

  Our first stop usually was the David Citadel Hotel, which became our home away from home. Just down the street from the more famous King David Hotel, the David Citadel offered more modern amenities and an equally commanding view of Jerusalem’s Old City.

  The secretary stayed each time in a suite named for Yitzhak Rabin, the Israeli prime minister assassinated in 1995 at the end of a rally supporting the Oslo Accords. That 1993 treaty marked the start of peace negotiations between the Israelis and the Palestinians.

  Prime Minister Rabin’s assassin was an ultranationalist opposed to his efforts in general and the Oslo Accords in particular.148

  The irony was never lost on anyone, especially as the secretary would meet with Prime Minister Netanyahu in a room filled with portraits and busts of his predecessor.

  The secretary’s suite had a large balcony with a wide-angle view of the Old City, and he and Netanyahu would often sit one-on-one at a table on the deck so the prime minister could smoke his favored Partagás No. 2 Cuban cigars.

  The rest of the US staff stayed in rooms on either side of the hallway leading to the secretary’s suite. The Israelis provided heavy security for the remainder of the floor.

  Given the conservative nature of Jerusalem, the hotel kept a kosher kitchen, meaning it didn’t serve shellfish and didn’t mix meat and dairy products. For its American visitors, that meant no cheeseburgers on the room-service menu. Instead, we developed an appreciation for eggs and pasta, plus a variety of salads, chopped raw vegetables, and Mediterranean mezze.

  When it was time to leave for a meeting, everyone would head down to the basement to load the vehicles. The van tires squealed as the motorcade circled up the traffic ramp. Once it reached surface level, we’d race through the city, passing traffic and people held at the side of the road by accompanying police officers.

  When we got to the prime minister’s office, the secretary’s limousine would peel off from the rest of the group and pull into a portico immediately sealed off from public view by sliding tarps. He’d exit once the coast was clear, be greeted by Edna Halbani, the director of international visits and longtime handler to a series of prime ministers, and then climb a set of steps to the second floor.

  There Bibi Netanyahu would greet him in front of a bank of cameras.

  Going to visit the Palestinians in Ramallah was slightly different. Because the Israeli nationals who drove us from the airport or around the city weren’t permitted to visit the West Bank, we’d have to take a completely different set of vans—with American security contractors behind the wheel—when we left the David Citadel to meet with Palestinian leaders.

  Israeli police would lead our motorcade up Highway 45 to a checkpoint around the corner from the imposing Ofer Prison, before pulling to the side of the road as the motorcade wended its way through a serpentine arrangement of Jersey barriers slowing movement over the border from Israel to the West Bank.

  On the other side of the checkpoint, Palestinian police and soldiers would pull into the lead and tail positions, assuming responsibility for the motorcade. They’d escort us through the dusty and pockmarked streets of Ramallah to the compound where the Palestinian National Authority is headquartered.

  We knew we had arrived when we drove through the gates and saw a large portrait of the late Yasser Arafat. The Palestinian Liberation Organization chairman and PNA president had been known worldwide for his trademark checked keffiyeh headdress.

  Arafat is now entombed in a glass mausoleum in the compound, which a group of us once visited. We’d also pass the hallway to Arafat’s former residence when we went to our staff hold room on the compound.

  When it came time to sit down and talk with either side, Kerry was primarily assisted by two aides: Martin Indyk, a former US ambassador to Israel who was assigned the new title as “Special Envoy for Israeli–Palestinian Negotiations,” and his deputy, Frank Lowenstein, a former Kerry aide in the Senate and son of the late New York civil rights activist Allard Lowenstein.

  Indyk was an erudite Australian who helped lead the Brookings Institution, a Washington think tank, but took a leave to return to government service. Lowenstein was less button-down than his boss, but was steeped in the intricacies of the negotiations. He also had Kerry’s complete trust, and drew from his lawyer’s training as the sides negotiated language or tried to stave off future sticking points.

  Prime Minister Netanyahu negotiated for hours face-to-face with Kerry, noteworthy because he was a head of state giving voluminous time not to a peer but a US cabinet official. It was a testament to the stature of the secretary of State and the United States that the prime minister did so.

  For the more routine negotiating sessions, the Israeli team was led by former justice minister Tzipi Livni. Always in the background, though, was a nettlesome character: Yitzhak Molcho. As Netanyahu’s personal lawyer, he was viewed as a check on Livni.

  The prime minister relied on Molcho to flyspeck potential agreements with the Palestinians, often exasperating Kerry and his negotiating team.

  “You can’t Molcho-us to death,” the secretary once screamed into a phone at the prime minister. Molcho was seeking to make just one more tweak to seemingly settled draft language.

  President Abbas, meanwhile, was the titular head of the Palestinian team, but Saeb Arakat handled day-to-day negotiations. He was the chief go-between to the US delegation, the principal spokesman to the media, and a trusted aide to President Abbas.

  Cagey and wary, Arakat was deeply mistrustful of the Israelis. He wasn’t alone in his apprehension. Prime Minister Netanyahu and other Israelis felt the same about him.

  The Israeli negotiating perspective was rooted in the state of siege the country felt from enemies on its borders and opponents who’d shoot rockets over them. The Palestinian position had a different premise.

  It was rooted in the state of occupation it felt because Israelis controlled the West Bank.

  Palestinians were not free to move across the border without permission. Some boundaries were defined by tall concrete blast walls built to prevent suicide bombers from crossing into Israel. Some Palestinian territory was cut in half by walled highways that only the Israelis could use.

  Palestinians seeking to work in Israel were instead funneled through checkpoints, where they’d often wait in long lines. And not only did the Israelis control the amount of water, concrete, and other building materials coming into the West Bank, lest it be used for nefarious purposes, but Palestinians complained about other indignities heaped on them.

  For example, a trucker seeking to bring product across the border would have to stop at an Israeli checkpoint, dump his load on the ground, and watch as Israelis sifted through it for contraband. Then he’d have to wait as the stone, sand, or other material was reloaded onto his truck.

  Finally, the Israelis gave the Palestinian a bill for the inspection.

  Against that backdrop, Kerry was realistic about the challenges he confronted following his first meetings with Prime Minister Netanyahu and President Abbas.

  “I think all of us have learned in the course of the last years, through many presidents and many secretaries of State, there has been no more intractable problem,” he told reporters on March 24, 2013, in Baghdad after his inaugural visits to Israel and the West Bank.

  “Expressing optimism when you don’t even have negotiations would be foolhardy. What I have is hope. I have hope that the president’s words kindled a sense of the possible in the people of Israel and the region and the Palestinians,” said Kerry.149

  Hours earlier, during the flight to Iraq, he telegraphed this feeling to his staff. He said he wanted to low-ball expectations and keep the talks low-key and out of public sight, since a public process would put pressure on bo
th sides.

  “I believe we will get a negotiation,” the secretary told us. “I can’t tell you what the outcome will be. I, personally, believe there is a solution, but that is going to depend on the decisions made by others. I’m not afraid of trying. If we don’t make an effort, it would be diplomatic malpractice.”150

  It was a sentiment he’d express every time the talks hit a pothole.

  _________

  SECRETARY KERRY’S FIRST TACK in the negotiations was aggressive. He aimed to get the Israelis and Palestinians to reach a signed agreement on all the core issues dividing them, including guarantees for Israeli security, borders and land swaps for both sides, and the right of return for Palestinians.

  The High Dive.

  That goal eluded him for about six months, so he shifted his aim. He sought a “framework” agreement under which the two sides committed to general solutions for the core issues.

  The Half Gainer.

  When the Israelis and Palestinians couldn’t agree even to that, Kerry changed once again. He spent his remaining months trying to get both sides to extend the talks through 2014.

  President Obama personally intervened with the Israelis and Palestinians in February 2014, but even that modest goal proved unachievable.

  The secretary’s peace effort ended, for all intents and purposes, on April 29, 2014, when the two sides passed the deadline for reaching an extension without an agreement.

  The Belly Flop.

  From the outset, Kerry identified the Israelis’ biggest issue: security.

  “If we can get basic security—not crazy—we can get this done,” he told us in April 2013, following a meeting in Jerusalem with Prime Minister Netanyahu. “I got to get a team to get really serious about it.”151

  The secretary and his negotiators settled on an idea to achieve that. They approached John Allen, a newly retired four-star Marine general and former head of US forces in Afghanistan, and asked if he’d head an effort to guarantee Israel’s security. In an added bit of service to his country, Allen agreed to rejoin the government and assume the job.