A dusty old town with a history of bitter conflict threatens to hold the West Asia peace process to ransom
AS one looks down on the dusty West Bank town of Hebron from the elevated Abu Sneineh observation point, it is difficult to believe that it has inflamed passions and put the brakes on the historic negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians. With its clusters of faded limestone buildings that blend into the surrounding Judean hills and narrow, dirt paths, Hebron is not a particularly impressive sight.
But the minaret of the Al-Ibrahimi mosque rising in the distance is a potent reminder of why Hebron is such an obstacle. A stone's throw away from this mosque is the Jewish quarter—the only one located in the heart of a Palestinian city. Israeli troops were supposed to have pulled out from 80 per cent of the area under control in Hebron eight months ago. And even though Israeli troops will continue to control 20 per cent of the town, the presence of a small Jewish population of 300 surrounded by 120,000 Palestinians has complicated the situation in no small measure. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has been pushing for various measures that would ensure the safety of this Jewish minority. Palestinian Authority Chairman Yasser Arafat says the Israelis are now asking for more than what was agreed upon in the Oslo accords.
In fact, there are many immediate problems hindering the peace process. Should the Israeli defence forces be allowed to pursue Palestinians into the areas (80 per cent) under Palestinian control? What weapons should the Palestinian police be allowed to carry? And who will be responsible for the Al-Ibrahimi mosque, which lies in an area that will remain under Israeli control?
Making matters worse are the centuries-old emotions harboured on both sides, as the January 1 shooting again testified. An Israeli soldier, Noam Friedman, wantonly opened fire in the Hebron market, close to the mosque, wounding several Palestinians. Later Friedman told reporters: "Our forefather Avraham bought Hebron for 400 shekels and the city belongs to us." The Jews call the mosque the Tomb of the Patriarchs. Both communities believe it is the burial place of their common ancestor, Abraham. But a shared patriarch—Ibrahim to Muslims and Avraham to Jews—has more often made for vicious competition than peaceful co-existence. In 1929 about 70 Jews in Hebron were killed in Arab and Jewish nationalist uprisings. And the Palestinians are unlikely to forget the 1994 carnage when Baruch Goldstein, a Jew from the nearby settlement of Kiryat Arba, unloaded his Galilee rifle in the mosque, killing about 30 Muslims and wounding 125 others.
Palestinians say the New Year day shooting has con-firmed that their lives are at risk. "The agreement has been delayed by eight months because of the safety of the settlers but the real threat is to the Palestinians," says Azmi Bishara, an Israeli Arab Member of Knesset from the left-wing Hadash party. "The only solution is the evacuation of settlers and Israeli security forces from Hebron." "The bulk of Hebron's Jews belong to the extremist camp and are armed," adds journalist Khalid Amayreh.
The Jewish settlers first moved into the town in 1968. "We came here as a peaceful people to rebuild the Jewish community decimated in the 1920s. But the Arabs want to make Hebron judenrein," says Noam Arnon, spokesman for Hebron's Jewish settlers, invoking Nazi terminology. "From the beginning Jews were killed, so we have licensed weapons and will use it according to the law. Some Israelis are also blaming us for the number of soldiers who will have to be deployed to protect us." Since 1968, there have indeed been periodic attacks by Arabs on Hebron's Jews, and as Arnon points out, Hamas, the Islamic Resistance Movement, has always had a significant presence in the town. The fact remains, however, that all Israeli settlements on the occupied West Bank are illegal by international law. But for the settlers, Jewish statehood is not just a form of territorial nationalism but a religious imperative.
Last week, Eliezer Waldman, a rabbi from a settlement outside Hebron was questioned by the Israeli police for saying that "it is against the commandments of the Bible to transfer parts of Greater Israel to non-Jews". "Palestinians would not have minded Jews in their midst," says Mustafa Natshe, the mayor of Hebron. "But these settlers are fanatics who believe there should be no Arabs in the land of Greater Israel." Many Israelis, too, have little sympathy for the settlers. "Friedman's attack on Arabs in Hebron is an attempt to cause chaos and stop the withdrawal. It is another fruit of the sedition and incitement by settlers and rabbis," says Yossi Sarid, leader of left-wing Meretz party, in response to the January 1 shooting. Even centrist Israelis say there is a big difference between holding on to the occupied territories as counters to be exchanged for peace and retaining them forever as part of a messianic fantasy.
But Mordechai Nisan, professor of Middle East Studies at Jerusalem's Hebrew University, cautions that the settler movement is not a fringe phenomenon. "The recent elections have shown that 50 per cent of Israel is behind them," he says. "Hebron elicits a very deep spiritual resonance in the Jewish people. They were effectively rooted out of the land of Israel for 2,000 years. Jewish return to Hebron would be righting a terrible historical wrong."
IF this is a city where the past throws a dark shadow on the present, the turbulent present does not bode too well for the future. Israeli troops have already withdrawn from all towns except Hebron, but this still covers only 3 per cent of the West Bank. Talks over Israeli pullout from West Bank villages and the remaining land are long overdue. Moreover, the protracted negotiations so far have only been about 'interim arrangements'. The thornier, 'final status' issues of illegal Israeli settlements on the West Bank, the return of Palestinian refugees and the status of Jerusalem have not been addressed yet. So, even if the current round of talks is concluded, Hebron will remain encircled by Jewish settlements. "Hebron illustrates the weakness of relegating settlements to the final negotiations," says Ghassan Khattib, political scientist and director of the Jerusalem Media and Communications Centre.
Yifat Susskind, an Israeli human rights activist and a critic of the Oslo accords, recently wrote: "The city's division into a patchwork of Jewish and Palestinian zones, the attendant displacement of Palestinians and the isolation of Hebron from its Palestinian periphery serve a long-standing Israeli interest." Meron Benvenisti, former deputy mayor of West Jerusalem, says any future Palestinian state is bound to be like "Swiss Cheese"—territory with gaping holes.
On the flip side, settlers form a significant constituency for the parties on the Israeli right. So while Netan-yahu is forced to respect an agreement signed by the previous government, he faces tremendous pres-sure from elements within his own government not to yield an inch. "Hebron is the gateway through which the Arabs will march to destroy Israel," warned Rafael Eitan, deputy prime minister, last week in a letter to the prime minister. Science Minister Zeev Begin told his Likud party gathering: "Hebron is the last dam. When it bursts, the deluge will come." The deceptively ordinary town of Hebron is certainly not the last obstacle in the negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians. It merely gives a glimpse of the even more difficult road ahead.