Tribal Warfare

On June 18, in broad daylight, Palestinian gunmen in
a yellow taxi overtook Danny Yehuda--the father of three--as he drove on a
highway near Homesh, a small Jewish settlement overlooking Nablus, the West
Bank's largest city, and shot him to death at point-blank range. Taking
responsibility for Yehuda's execution was a group calling itself "Battalions of
the victim Thabet Thabet." The organization claimed to be avenging the death of
Dr. Thabet Ahmed Thabet of Tul Karm, who until last December, when he was gunned
down by undercover Israeli forces, had been a dentist and director-general of the
Palestinian Authority's health ministry.

In killing Thabet, the Israelis were apparently retaliating for a
terrorist attack in the coastal town of Netanya just hours earlier, though nobody
has established a connection between Thabet and the fatal explosion. A profile in
the Israeli newspaper Ha'aretz later revealed that Thabet and his wife had
been open advocates of peaceful negotiation with Israel; moreover, she credited
their ability to have children to an Israeli friend who had pleaded with her to
be treated by a Tel Aviv gynecologist. ("The Israelis gave me my life," Mrs.
Thabet said, "and then the Israelis took it 19 years later.") In a state of
depression following Thabet's assassination, one of his relatives shot and killed
Israeli restaurateurs Motti Dayan and Etgar Zeituni, themselves peace advocates,
as they shopped for supplies. At Danny Yehuda's funeral--scarcely a week into the
cease-fire declared after 21 Israeli youths were blown up at the Dolphinarium
dance club--grief-stricken settlers denounced Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon
for failing to declare war against the Palestinian Authority. "We need another
Goldstein," shouted some of the mourners. They were referring to Dr. Baruch
Goldstein, who killed 29 Arabs at prayer in the Tomb of the Patriarchs in 1994,
before he himself was beaten to death.

So Close, and Yet So Far

The Oslo peace process--which dates back to secret
negotiations in 1992 between Palestinians and Israelis in Norway, and which many
hoped would move forward definitively in talks at Camp David a year ago--promised
an era of confidence building, followed by a final agreement that would have
resolved the status of Jerusalem and the territories. But what Secretary of State
Colin Powell confronted when he arrived in the Middle East to begin a new round
of diplomacy on June 26 was a grotesque reversal. Although the terms of what
would have constituted a final deal between the Israelis and the Palestinians are
clear, the violence that made reaching final terms impossible has now swept away
the peace-seeking Labor Party coalition of Prime Minister Ehud Barak--who was
unseated by Sharon in the February election--together with any accumulated good
faith between Arab and Jew. Indeed, while the framework for a peaceful
settlement is conceivable (in fact, such a framework exists), implementing it is
not.

What would the deal have been? according to Yossi Beilin, the
justice minister in Barak's government who served as a lead negotiator at the
January talks in Taba, Egypt, Bill Clinton's "bridging proposals"--which were
offered in the waning days of his administration, and went beyond Barak's offers
to Palestinian Authority leader Yasir Arafat at Camp David in July 2000--put the
parties just a few weeks from an accord. Here are the terms of the deal:

  • A Palestinian state would be established on some 95
    percent of the West Bank and Gaza.

  • All Palestinian refugees would be compensated by Israeli and
    international aid; their "right of return" would be redeemed with cash,
    settlement in Palestine, or, on a case-by-case basis, settlement in Israel.

  • The 1.4 million Palestinian refugees living in the West Bank and
    Gaza would be absorbed into the Palestinian state, while the 1.5 million
    Palestinians in Jordan, who were already Jordanian citizens, would be absorbed
    there.

  • About 100,000 of the 300,000 Palestinian refugees now living in South
    Lebanon would be allowed back to Israel.

  • Israeli settlements concentrated in about 5 percent of West Bank land
    around Jerusalem and Gush Etzion would be annexed by Israel. In return, Palestine
    would be compensated with Israeli land in the Negev to the south of the West Bank
    and a land corridor joining Gaza and the West Bank.

  • About 40,000 Israeli settlers scattered on heights around Palestinian
    cities would return to Israel.

  • The Arab neighborhoods of Jerusalem, including all but the Jewish
    Quarter of the Old City (about 320,000 people), would be absorbed into the
    Palestinian state, with the Haram al-Sharif (the Temple Mount) falling under
    Palestinian sovereignty, and the Jewish Quarter, the Wailing Wall, and the
    excavations adjacent to the Wall all falling under Israeli sovereignty.

  • Israel would maintain a three-year security presence in the Jordan
    Valley, and security cooperation under U.S. mediation would continue beyond that
    date.

    These terms represented the application of utilitarian principle to
    demographic facts; indeed, they are essentially what Beilin and a high PLO
    official agreed to in October 1995, days before Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak
    Rabin was assassinated. But in the current atmosphere of terror, the practical
    details of such a compromise seem almost to mock Israel's condition. Arafat has
    never publicly accepted these terms, and his refusal to hunt down and jail Hamas
    radicals seems implicitly to condone terrorism. What, in the absence of a
    Palestinian peace partner, is Israel to do? Is its policy reduced to exacting
    vengeance?

    The question cannot be divorced from how Israel conceives of itself, its
    purpose, and its relation to its neighbors. Consider Rehavam Ze'evi, the tourism
    minister, a leather-faced former Israeli general who has notoriously proposed
    mass transfers of Palestinians from "Judea and Samaria" to Jordan. His political
    party, Moledet, is marginal, but he's the voice of Israeli defiance when terror
    strikes. "Sharon knows the Arabs--they care most about their homes," Ze'evi told
    a TV interviewer. "One more shot from Ramallah and we'll take down the first row
    of houses." Israelis, Ze'evi insists, should not be friarim ("chumps"). The
    Intifada--the ongoing uprising against Israeli occupation of the territories--has
    become the most meaningful experience in the lives of destitute Palestinian
    youths; of 319 Palestinians killed by December 19 of last year, 121 were 18 years
    old or younger. In the absence of a signed agreement, the demand for the "right
    of return" could still mean three million Palestinians (refugees of the 1948 war,
    plus their children and grandchildren) exercising the right to inundate Israel
    with Arabs, a demand that gives pause even to peace advocates like Amos Oz. Would
    this not mean an end to Israel as a state with a Jewish majority?

    Barak and others have advocated complete "separation" from the Palestinians,
    though how this would be possible around Jerusalem without the forced transfer of
    populations Ze'evi envisions, no one could say: The Wailing Wall abuts the Arab
    Quarter; the Hebrew University campus on Mount Scopus is on an exposed salient
    between two Arab towns. According to Jane's Foreign Report, Sharon has
    authorized the Israeli military to draw up a contingency plan for a month-long
    offensive to disarm the Palestinian Authority and expel (or kill) Arafat's circle
    of leaders--and is waiting for a terrorist bomb to supply the pretext. He argued
    through the 1980s that the Palestinians should topple the monarchy in neighboring
    Jordan and set up a Palestinian state there. His government, which includes
    Shimon Peres, would not dare pursue such a plan today. But if Sharon commands the
    Israeli Defense Force to start "taking down" rows of Arab houses in Ramallah,
    refugees will stream across the Jordan and the fat will be dangerously close to
    the fire.

    But there are other voices, too. On the day of Sharon's election in February,
    the novelist David Grossman wrote a column imagining what Israelis would say 50
    years from now about a leadership that had believed it could impose by force what
    it could not expect to win by negotiation. What he was really doing, of course,
    was thinking back 30 years and envisioning how much better off Israel would be
    today if, in 1967, it had occupied the West Bank without settling it, held Arab
    Jerusalem and its mosques without annexing them, invited international investment
    and international forces into the West Bank and Gaza instead of turning these
    places into sites on an ancient map, and even conditionally recognized the PLO
    after the Rabat summit in 1974. Grossman was asking whether Israel, in laying the
    groundwork for the next generation, would conduct the occupation with
    liberal-democratic values or would revert to the previous state of affairs
    personified by Sharon. Democracy is not just majority rule, after all: It
    requires a commitment to the more or less permanent negotiation that aims to
    derive sovereignty from "the consent of the governed" (as former U.S. Secretary
    of State Cyrus Vance observed). A democratic Israel would promote peace, a
    framework for tolerance, not as a reward for Palestinian cooperation but as an
    acknowledgment of the inevitability of conflict, which must always be managed and
    subdued. What is a democracy if not a peace process without an end?

    The Five Tribes

    These voices underline that Israel, in spite of the terror,
    remains a site of contesting political cultures, habits of mind, and circles of
    loyalty in which different groups of citizens have experienced the peace process
    in quite different ways. Indeed, the people of Israel can be divided into five
    distinct "tribes" or demographic groups, each made up of about a million people,
    or 20 percent of the Israeli population. While each group has its
    contrarians--and while high rates of intermarriage among the tribes make bright
    lines difficult to draw--these blocs of Israelis nevertheless have distinct
    political profiles. And they have been talking past one another for at least a
    decade.

    Tribe 1: The Pretty Souls This tribe consists of the more highly
    educated descendants of the old European Labor-Zionist establishment now living
    in northern Tel Aviv, Haifa, and Jerusalem's Baka'a. These yefei nefesh, or
    "pretty souls," held firm for the peace process. Seventy-five percent of the
    affluent northern suburb of Kfar Shmaryahu, for example, voted for Ehud Barak.
    Contrast this with the 88 percent who voted for Sharon in Beit Shemesh, whose
    residents are mainly descendants of the less well educated, more Orthodox,
    working-class and petit bourgeois mizrahim--Eastern Jews who arrived from North
    African Arab states during the 1950s and 1960s. The yefei nefesh see the state as
    a facilitator of their cultural life rather than as its embodiment. In this way,
    they are far closer to professional circles in the United States and Europe than
    to the Jewish settlers of the West Bank or residents of Jerusalem's pietistic
    quarters. Their children expect to be citizens of the world. They travel
    extensively--after serving in the army, during their university years, and
    throughout their careers. Today there are 200,000 highly skilled Israelis
    employed in Israel's 50 largest high-tech businesses. These firms contribute more
    than a quarter of Israel's total gross domestic product (GDP). This far outstrips
    the settlers in numbers and economic power. Over the past decade, Israelis have
    launched thousands of knowledge-based companies, which (until the recent
    downturn) have been thriving in Har Hahotzvim in Jerusalem, Herzliah, and the
    southern part of Haifa. Israeli entrepreneurs see tourism--which presupposes
    Palestinian cooperation--to be a necessary 15 percent of Israel's GDP and the
    sector most likely to provide good jobs for working mizrahim laid off from their
    jobs in Israel's rust belt.

    Many Israelis who join the high-tech economy find themselves living in
    Amsterdam, Boston, or Santa Clara, whether they work for an Israeli company like
    Check Point or a global one like Intel. The real question is not whether the most
    talented young Israelis will leave; it is whether they will come back to raise
    their children and in the process become custodians of Israel's democratic
    culture. As the dean of a new business school told me, "The 20 percent of Israel
    that would be isolated by the collapse of the peace process cannot be expected to
    continue to provide the intellectual capital that translates into 80 percent of
    the country's wealth." The Israeli army's chief of staff, Lieutenant General
    Shaul Mofaz, recently warned that the brain drain from the research arms of the
    army and the defense ministry was Israel's greatest strategic vulnerability.
    Unlike the old Zionists who preached self-sufficiency, such people expect to be
    an integral part of a global culture.

    Tribe 2: The Second Israel The mizrahim, or "the second
    Israel," arrived in the country from hostile North African countries a generation
    after Israel was founded. These new immigrants discovered a strangely socialist
    society that was widely committed to the Zionist labor union Histadrut's owning
    the means of production, to sexual freedom, and to a Labor-Zionist aristocracy,
    which tried to steer the mizrahim into agricultural collectives. In reaction,
    the mizrahim embraced the populist Likud Party in the 1970s. In the 1990s, as
    integration and intermarriage accelerated, many migrated to the Shas Party, a
    hybrid movement of increasingly xenophobic Orthodoxy and proletarian resentment.

    Tribe 2 does not oppose peace--only the social changes that would make
    it possible. Its members live on the edge of poverty, and their political tempers
    are easily triggered. They see themselves as having been no less dispossessed by
    the conflict than do the Palestinians. They envision an Israel as Jewish as the
    Arab states are Muslim--and as paternalistic. For as they once regarded
    themselves the chief victims of Labor-Zionist control over the economy, they now
    regard themselves as the chief victims of a post-Oslo global economy that favors
    the high-tech world of Labor-Zionism's children. They fear competition for jobs
    and housing from Israel's Arabs and want an Israel that resembles their large,
    warm families--observant, loyal, and gritty.

    Tribe 3: The Orthodox Members of tribe 3, whose birth rates
    are twice the national average, fall along a spectrum ranging from Jerusalem's
    ultra-Orthodox haredim ("the awestruck") to followers of the messianic
    Zionism advocated by the ethnically European Mafdal--the National Religious
    Party--whose spiritual center is Bar Ilan University (where Yigal Amir, Rabin's
    assassin, was educated) and whose heroes are the West Bank settlers of Gush
    Emunim ("Bloc of the Faithful").

    Both the haredim and the Mafdal have become champions--and
    wards--of the state. If a young man declares himself committed to a life of Torah
    study, he may be exempted from military service while his wife and children live
    on the dole. There are about 150,000 haredi men pursuing rabbinical studies
    in yeshivas. The state also supports Shas-sponsored schools attended by Israel's
    poorest children; Shas pleases their parents with rigid training in Orthodox
    observances, a hot lunch, and a longer school day. At the same time, defense and
    infrastructure investments subsidize as many as 100,000 people in the
    settlements. The haredim do not serve in the army (though the Gush Emunim
    serve with a vengeance).

    On the whole, the institutional Orthodox see the state apparatus as a crucial
    force in protecting the Sabbath and other Jewish ritual law--and also the
    thousands of state jobs that go along with Rabbinic vigilance over marriage,
    burial, and kashruth. They want a Jewish state; equality for Israeli Arabs is
    anathema. Their leaders speak of liberal Jews as purveyors of an indecent
    materialism. They see the Jewish state as a chance to escape the theological
    challenges and physical threats of goyim. Though they joined Barak's government
    because it was victorious, they abandoned him, faction by faction, as soon as
    peace negotiations involved rethinking sovereignty in Jerusalem.

    It is important to understand that the roughly 40 percent of
    Israel's electorate who have persistently opposed territorial compromise are
    skeptical not only of Palestinian claims but of the cosmopolitan makeover any
    peace process would bring and the secular democratic coalition that it has
    engendered. Though Ehud Barak--a military man--got a marginally higher vote than
    previous peace candidates from tribes 2 and 3 in 1999, the peace camp has always
    assumed that these tribes are hard-liners. Indeed, after Barak failed at Camp
    David, losing the Shas Party's support in the process, he tried to rally peace
    forces with the promise of a "secular revolution" that would have banned the
    ministry of religion and mandated that all citizens, including yeshiva students
    and Arabs, serve in the army. These reforms were an attempt to fuse all the
    forces in the country who grasped, however dimly, that secular democracy and
    peace were two sides of the same coin and that Israel would emerge from the
    peace talks a different country from the one that entered them.

    Tribe 4: Israeli Palestinians Israel's Arab citizens were
    intent on making a strong statement in the last election--and they did. In 1999,
    75 percent voted, 95 percent of them for Barak; only 13 percent voted in
    2001--and of those, 20 percent cast a blank ballot. It is cold comfort for the
    Labor Party that most of the small remainder voted for Barak. In Nazareth and Um
    el-Fahm, where 13 protesters were shot dead by Israeli police at the start of the
    new Intifada, the rate of voting was only 10 percent and 3 percent respectively.

    The Palestinian Authority, in a last-ditch effort to get the peace
    process back on track, encouraged Israeli Arabs to vote for Barak, but the Arab
    members of Knesset who led the vote boycott told Palestinian Authority leaders to
    mind their own business. Aved Mar'am, an Arab Knesset member, said it was "the
    Israeli Arabs' declaration of electoral independence." Israeli Arabs have come to
    understand that they are not just 20 percent of the population but 40 percent of
    any conceivably triumphant peace coalition. Their electoral revolt was
    predictable, not least because the Barak government handled the tragic deaths
    with callousness.

    Actually, the surprise is not the show of resistance but that it took so long.
    Per capita income of Israeli Arabs is roughly half that of Jews. Arabs are
    underrepresented in the civil service and in professional life and are still not
    permitted any effective program of national service that would enable them
    security clearances. Barak refused even to meet with Arab members of Knesset to
    discuss their possible participation in his coalition.

    The growing political consciousness of Israeli Arabs portends the kind of
    political revolution that tribes 2 and 3 fear the most. If, as seems likely, the
    peace wing of the Labor Party (led by Beilin) joins informally with the left-wing
    Meretz Party to form a democratic peace coalition in the Knesset, the Arab
    parties will almost certainly cooperate with them. And this cooperation might
    well prepare the ground for social reform, including the retirement of
    anachronistic Israeli laws left over from the Zionist colonial period: the Law of
    Return (which bestows citizenship on all legally defined "Jews"); regulations
    regarding ownership of land that make it very hard to sell property to non-Jews;
    a prohibition of civil marriage, which makes intermarriage difficult; and others.

    Tribe 5: The Russians Russian immigrants are the wild card
    of Israeli politics. Some 825,000 can now vote, and 70 percent did so in 2001 (90
    percent cast ballots in 1999). Though 58 percent went for Barak in 1999, 63
    percent went for Sharon this year. Its hybrid background makes the Russian voting
    bloc volatile. For one thing, Russians have come to Israel with higher levels of
    education than any other wave of immigrants. According to one estimate, a third
    of the software engineers and materials scientists who power Israeli start-ups
    are Russians; these professionals have raised standards in Israeli music,
    science, and the arts. For another, most Russians came to Israel not for Zionist
    reasons but to enjoy a style of life that they associate with the West.
    Ha'aretz's Lili Galili, who has covered the Russians extensively, says that a
    very small number practice Judaism and perhaps only half were (or considered
    themselves) Jews before they came. They dislike the Orthodox, whom they regard as
    a threat to the sophisticated and pluralist atmosphere of Tel Aviv, where the
    Russians are concentrated.

    One would think that all this would make Russians staunch allies of the
    peace coalition, but that's not the case. Though most of them are cultural
    liberals, these veterans of the Soviet regime have generally retained both the
    refuseniks' suspicion of immanent world anti-Semitism and a Russian taste for the
    strongman. Barak was their ideal at first: Stanford-educated, sensitive to
    Israeli honor. His alleged capitulation to Palestinian demands over Jerusalem--at
    which point Russian leaders Natan Sharansky and Avigdor Leiberman left his
    government--and his decision to call off the secular revolution that the Russians
    supported left him looking like a paper tiger. "They are for the most part
    immigrants without a Jewish or deeply Zionist identity," writes Galili, "so
    national symbols, such as Jerusalem, have become an important component of their
    identity." But the émigrés from Russia are still getting used to
    their new country--the opportunities as well as the frustrations of freedom--and
    they may well change the political landscape again, especially when the economic
    impact of curtailing the peace process is fully felt.

    Global support for Hebrew Democracy

    There is a pattern here. In a time of relative stability,
    tribe 1, the professional and economic elite, leads tribes 4 and 5, the Arabs and
    the Russians--and eventually also leads tribe 2, the mizrahim, while
    marginalizing 3, the Orthodox. This is the Israel Rabin was shaping until his
    murder. In a time of growing tension, however, tribes 2 and 3 will lead 5,
    alienate 4, and put 1 into a kind of internal exile--while presenting tribe 1's
    children with a choice between serving in the army to fight a war they believe
    could have been prevented or opting for exile in the global knowledge-economy.
    For the peace coalition to regain power and implement the deal, Israelis and
    Palestinians have to regain the stability that marked Oslo's early days. Can
    they?

    Sharon says he will accept a demilitarized Palestine on 43 percent of
    the West Bank and sign a nonbelligerency agreement with its leaders--if the
    violence stops. His unity coalition promises to prohibit new settlements, limit
    existing ones to "natural" rates of growth, and negotiate partial agreements that
    defer decisions on refugees and Jerusalem. Saeb Erakat, one of the Palestinian
    Authority's most conciliatory negotiators, said that if these were the terms, he
    would meet his interlocutor "in the next life." So if Israel expects a cessation
    of violence, it will have to freeze all settlement activity--because to the
    Palestinians, settlements amount to aggression. Besides, why should Arafat's
    fragile Palestinian Authority risk a confrontation with radical Hamas activists
    if Israel's fragile coalition will not risk a confrontation with the settlers?

    In retrospect, what was missing from Oslo all along was a stronger
    international presence to help contain outbreaks of violence and manage their
    aftermath in the context of continuing negotiations. If a cease-fire can be
    restored, Israel and the Palestinians need to achieve some kind of "separation of
    forces" like the agreement with Egypt that ended the post-1973 exchanges of fire.
    Each side desperately needs a strong third party to trust without having to trust
    each other. Sharon says he wants an "interim" arrangement. Secretary Powell could
    make the presence of international forces--billeted in a recognized, if
    temporarily small, Palestinian state--a condition of implementing the
    confidence-building measures outlined in the report of the Mitchell
    "fact-finding" commission, which was set up after October's Sharm el-Sheikh
    conference to ascertain the roots of the recent violence. As a quid pro quo to
    Israel, he could offer, say, to set up an American naval base in Haifa.

    This is not to underestimate the diplomatic and logistical
    difficulties of deploying NATO forces, especially in and around Jerusalem, or the
    challenges to Israeli sovereignty such intervention might pose. Powell is famous
    for disliking American troops in a policing role and has endorsed only "outside
    observers" in the region. Israeli officials have a deeply ambiguous attitude
    toward the "blue helmets": They have bitter memories of UN forces evacuating the
    Sinai at Egyptian President Gamal Nasser's insistence in 1967--the umbrella that
    folded just when the rain began to fall, in Israeli diplomat Abba Eban's view.
    More recently, UN forces denied Israelis an unedited video they possessed of
    Hezbollah fighters kidnapping Israeli soldiers. One young officer told me he
    fears that UN forces, especially if they were European, would seriously undermine
    the Israeli Defense Force's freedom of action in the occupied territories and
    become a kind of shield behind which terrorists might operate, as in Lebanon.
    What's more, in the absence of a final-status agreement, would international
    forces have a clear mandate?

    But on balance, these objections are unimpressive. NATO forces are
    going into Macedonia under equally chaotic conditions. And without international
    forces mediating cooperation between Israel and the Palestinian Authority, the
    two sides will always be hostages to terrorism. As for the young officer's wish
    to preserve Israel's freedom of action, well, the Israeli military has had
    freedom of action in the occupied territories since 1967. Besides, effective
    sovereignty does not mean military control, even if this were possible. What will
    happen to the stewardship of important utilities, public works, and
    transportation infrastructure without the cooperation of Palestine, other
    neighbors, and international partners? The water shortage has become a virtual
    emergency. If a Palestinian state is formed, neither side will be able to pump
    from the West Bank water table without affecting the other. Israel and a
    Palestinian state will have to work together on transportation links between the
    West Bank and Gaza, as well as on other matters of common jurisdiction, labor
    law, monetary policy (the Israeli shekel is still the major Palestinian
    currency), telecommunications policy, and more.

    In this context, the fear of the Palestinians' "right of return" seems to be a
    failure of imagination. After all, the political and demographic forces unleashed
    by any negotiated settlement underwritten by the global powers will lead to
    pretty much the same result. Let's say 250,000 Palestinians are repatriated to
    Israel proper. What problems does a 25 percent Arab minority pose to Israel that
    a 20 percent minority does not? There would in any case be a dramatic expansion
    of Palestinian population in the triangle between Jerusalem, Ramallah, and
    Nablus--an increase of up to a million people that would eventually create a city
    the size of Amman. Israelis and Palestinians will consequently struggle with
    problems much like those of Singapore and Malaysia, or San Diego and northern
    Mexico. The Tel Aviv-Haifa corridor, and the roads to it, will swell with
    Palestinians working in industries like construction, light manufacturing, and
    tourism. At the same time, the promise of greater Israel will give way to that of
    greater Tel Aviv, a city that will remain materially and culturally hegemonic.
    The language of work for tens of thousands of Palestinians already is Hebrew. Tel
    Aviv will expand along the road and rail link that joins Herzliah, Netanya, and
    southern Haifa; it will become an international Hebrew-English megalopolis
    anchoring the technological development of the region up to Turkey.

    True, this is not exactly the Israel envisioned by classical Zionist
    theorists. But if the fundamental purpose of their Zionist revolution was, as the
    movement's first great mentor Achad Ha'am argued, to have a place in the world
    where Jews could express the "Jewish spirit," compete in the world without
    self-effacement, and ask scientific and literary questions in Hebrew (free from
    the hold of Orthodoxy), then the prospect could be worse. Achad Ha'am had hoped
    that a Jewish national home would be heir to what he took to be Rabbinic
    Judaism's real achievement: a sense of divine intention that was endlessly
    debatable--an anticipation of the fractious, liberal values that he loved and
    believed had "overturned Judaism from within." If that hope is still worth
    cherishing, it will be realized, ironically, not by Israelis who consider their
    country a not-quite-finished Zionist revolution but by citizens of an
    internationally supported Hebrew democracy.

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