by J. T. Rogers
SAVIR: I know.
LARSEN: Did you know that Singer was coming here to present this offer from Rabin?
(Savir stares at him. He says nothing.)
This changes everything. The possibility of what can be achieved now!
SAVIR: Terje. Understand: all the chips have just been put on the table. They know now how much we’re willing to risk to get this deal. And what a fucking disaster it will be if we don’t get it. And we know the exact same thing about them. When both sides know that both sides have to make a deal . . . that’s when things get dangerous.
Savir is gone.
Mona and Egeland alone.
MONA: Jan, you cannot drop out!
EGELAND: Yes, I can, Mona. And if you have a shred of sense left you will do the same.
I’m off to Kosovo, where I will not be available.
MONA: This process needs you. Look at what has just happened between their two sides!
EGELAND: Yes, exactly: look.
I mean, my God, it’s one thing for a peace process to have a secret back channel. But now the actual peace process itself is a secret!
The future of two peoples is now being decided—without transparency, without accountability—by a handful of men who have no mandate to do so! If you continue down this path, and the world finds out what you are all doing? There will be riots. Blood will be spilled.
(He turns to go, then turns back)
All political careers end in tragedy, Mona. Don’t speed yours up.
Egeland is gone.
Mona faces us.
MONA: The DOP was reworked by Singer, incorporating Abu Ala and Hassan’s answers to his questions. It was now a proper, legal document. With it, Singer and Savir returned to Borregaard to meet with the Palestinians.
Later that morning. The reception room. Mona alone.
HIRSCHFELD (Offstage): Mona!
(Racing in, seeing her) Oh, thank God.
Where’s Terje?
MONA: He’s at a Fafo board meeting.
They called, crack of dawn, demanding he attend. / He couldn’t get out of it.
HIRSCHFELD: It’s a disaster. Months of work—ruined—by that son of a bitch.
MONA: Yair, what’s happened?
HIRSCHFELD: Abu Ala and Hassan started reading the new document—they practically fell off their chairs. The DOP we made together—it’s disappeared.
(As Mona and Hirschfeld continue their conversation, we see Singer and Savir face-off with Asfour and Qurie; Pundak is to the side. They all hold copies of the new draft of the DOP in their hands.)
QURIE: What is this page?! And this?!
HIRSCHFELD: What Singer has brought, it’s almost a complete rewrite.
QURIE: Every word, a fiction!
HIRSCHFELD: He took out that we agree to give them Jericho. And he put in that they agree to everything we have asked for.
SAVIR: What is in there is what you said to us in response to our two hundred questions!
QURIE: Saying and writing are not the same—and you know this!
HIRSCHFELD: Abu Ala is screaming. Hassan is ballistic.
ASFOUR: You will not grind your boot into our throat!
HIRSCHFELD: You have to fix this.
(Cutting her off before she can speak) No!
Mona, you are part of this now. Go. In.
Inside the negotiating room.
As one, the men turn and see Mona standing there in the room, Hirschfeld behind her.
They stare at her—then whirl back on each other.
ASFOUR: This is not a “joint approach,” this is an Israeli occupation! You have no right to tell us how our army will respond to our people!
SINGER: We are not going one step further until you agree—as written there—that the violence ceases when you are in charge.
ASFOUR: We are in Tunis. Those who are occupied began the Intifada. It is theirs to end when they see fit!
SINGER: Then why the fuck are we talking to you?
SAVIR: Joel, I am negotiating, yes? / Then let me negotiate.
QURIE: Uri, why do you refuse to recognize the historic compromises we have already made?
SAVIR: You have made? Abu Ala, we are giving you land. We are shrinking the size of our country!
QURIE: This is land not for you to give, but to give back!
SAVIR: This is land you fucking lost because you invaded us—and we kicked your fucking ass!
QURIE: Where—in this—where is Jerusalem?
SINGER: You put Jerusalem back on the table and everything is over.
QURIE (To Savir): Don’t you see? You go on like this, you will never stop being the occupier—and we will never stop fighting you!
SINGER: Your fighting is killing your own children.
ASFOUR: Our fighting has forced you to stand in this room and deal with us!
QURIE (To Savir): My friend, listen to me! Together / we can fix this.
SINGER: He. Works. For. ME!
SAVIR: Let us be fucking clear, Joel. You are here for Yitzhak, / I am here for Shimon—equals, whether you like it or not.
SINGER: This is / when you want to have this conversation? Really? Now?
ASFOUR (To Singer, in Arabic): / [We will bury you! We will bury you!]
QURIE (To Savir, pointing at Singer): Poison! This one pours poison, in all our ears!
MAN’S VOICE (Over them, offstage): Ah-lo?
(All freeze—statues, mid-word and action.)
(Offstage) Ah-lo-ho?
(Gestures fly around the room: “Who is that?” “What do we do?” “Where can we hide?”
A German Husband and Wife enter the room, suitcases in hand.)
HUSBAND: Ah! Here you are.
(Taking out a piece of paper) We are looking for . . . Toril?
(Mona and the roomful of men stare at the couple. They stare back.)
MONA (As Toril): Yah, I am Toril.
(Gesturing to Singer) This is Finn, my husband.
SINGER (Beat. Then): Yah.
HUSBAND: We know we are twenty-three minutes early, but we would like to check in now.
MONA: Ah.
Yah.
Terrible mix-up. There are no rooms.
HUSBAND: What are you talking about? We have a reservation.
MONA: We are remodeling.
(Gesturing to the other men) This is our crew.
(The other men in the room mumble “Ah-lo”s with their eyes downcast.)
HUSBAND (To Wife, in German): [She says there are no rooms.]
WIFE (In German): [But we have a reservation!]
HUSBAND (In German): [That’s what I told her.]
WIFE (In German): [Hans! This is where we stay. Fix this.]
HUSBAND (To Mona): This is outrageous! We had this reservation for nine months and three days!
MONA: We will refund, and get you better rooms, very close by.
HUSBAND: We are not leaving!
MONA: Please, sir, if you will step out / I will be right with you.
HUSBAND: We will call the media! Do you hear me? We will tell the local constabulary—
MONA (In German): [SHUT YOUR MOUTH.]
[Go outside and wait for me or your safety cannot be guaranteed.]
(Silence. The couple stares at her, mouths open. Then:)
HUSBAND: Take your time.
(They scoot out of the room.
The men stare at Mona.)
SAVIR: What a / woman. I mean, what a woman!
QURIE: This is my daughter! My daughter!
MONA: Stop it. Stop it. We don’t have time.
(To all of them) Listen to me.
You have fought each other—killed each other—for fifty years. Your mothers and daughters and sons have died, and nothing has changed.
The world has washed its hands of this conflict, because they do not believe you can change.
No one else is coming to help you. So it is up to you.
Stay in this room and find a way forward.
(Sh
e exits.
The men are alone. Staring at each other.
Singer picks up a copy of the DOP.)
SINGER: I’m willing to start at the top. Go through. See what we can see.
(Asfour stares at Singer. Then:)
ASFOUR: As are we.
Outside the room, Mona paces, charged with energy. Larsen races in—out of breath.
LARSEN (Gasping): Mona!
I got here as soon as I could.
MONA (Gasping as well): Terje, they are in there, at the table, pushing on.
LARSEN: Are they close to a deal?
MONA: Yes. Both sides are almost there.
Nothing is going to stop this!
LARSEN: Nothing!
Holst appears.
HOLST: The Israelis are pulling out.
LARSEN AND MONA: What?!
Oslo. The Foreign Ministry.
Holst and Marianne; Mona and Larsen.
HOLST: They want to close the Channel—now.
LARSEN: But, Johan Jorgen, the progress they just made—it was incredible!
MARIANNE: Too incredible. They don’t believe it’s possible the PLO has made these latest concessions.
LARSEN: I’m sorry, you are here why again, Marianne?
HOLST: She’s a guest, Terje. Here to advise. Like yourself.
MONA: What are the Israelis afraid of—specifically?
HOLST: That Arafat is setting them up. The Channel—all of it—is simply an elaborate trap to bring down the Israeli Government.
MARIANNE: If we were in the Israelis’ shoes, wouldn’t we be paranoid? This is Yasser Arafat we’re talking about. I know we’re neutral but—please.
MONA: If we need to convince the Israelis, let’s go to Arafat and test him one more time.
MARIANNE: That’s a terrible idea. We’ve stuck our necks out on this far enough.
LARSEN: “We”? I’m sorry, who is this / “we,” Marianne?
MARIANNE: I have just as much right to be here as you, Terje.
LARSEN: Or at Fafo, where you are paid to do a job I hired you to do.
MARIANNE: Now would that be the institute you have abandoned while you chase personal glory? You are an interloper Terje, / who will do anything to rise above your station.
LARSEN: You know, Marianne, humility is the virtue that tightens the skin.
(Shaking the skin under his neck) You should look into it!
MONA: ENOUGH!
(Beat. All three stare at Mona.)
Johan Jorgen, the risks are real but they don’t outweigh the opportunity.
Let’s go to Tunis. We’ll stand in front of Arafat, read him the document, and see if he truly knows what this is.
Beilin and Savir appear.
BEILIN: You can’t be serious.
MONA (To us): Jerusalem. The Foreign Ministry.
(Beilin and Savir across from Holst, Mona, and Larsen.)
LARSEN: I am beyond serious!
And this is the best part. Halfway through the presentation, Arafat slaps the table, and wags his finger.
(As Arafat) “There must be kissing points!”
I say, “Mr. Chairman, do you mean checkpoints?”
(As Arafat) “No, Larsen!”
(Forefingers “kissing” each other) “Kissing points. Kiss, kiss, kiss.”
SAVIR: So our territorial boundaries should abut?
MONA: Yes, that’s what we think he meant.
LARSEN: Then, as Johan Jorgen is reading him the draft document, he starts bouncing up and down on his seat, yelling:
(As Arafat) “I am not Nelson Mandela! I am not Nelson Mandela!”
SAVIR: But what does Arafat say about the document? Does he agree with what’s in it or not?
HOLST: Not only did he agree with it, he had complete command of the details. He quoted entire sections along with me. Frankly, I’m amazed.
SAVIR (To Beilin): Good! All right! See? We have to push on!
BEILIN: We all want this deal. But Arafat has always played the wild card, right at the / last moment.
SAVIR: Yossi, I know it’s a huge fucking risk, but it’s now or never!
BEILIN: We don’t know that!
SAVIR: Come on, Yossi! You know I’m right!
BEILIN: Uri, you are being reckless! / Focus on our objective!
SAVIR: Don’t fucking tell me what I am being!
LARSEN: My friends! Let us—
SAVIR: MIND YOUR BUSINESS!
(Then) Yossi.
This is what we have waited for our entire lives.
BEILIN: Uri. It’s not our decision to make.
Shimon Peres, seventy, Foreign Minister of the State of Israel, draped in the most exquisite of suits, appears.
PERES (To us): This reminds me of a story.
You’ll find it very interesting.
When I was a young man, I told my mother that my dearest wish was to become a fighter pilot. She said she would allow it—on one condition. That I fly very slowly and very close to the ground.
I replied, “But, Mother, for a pilot to be safe, he must fly very fast and very high.”
(To Larsen) I adore your shoes.
LARSEN: Thank you.
PERES: Do you have them stretched, or break them in yourself?
LARSEN: Stretched, without question. This way / they are prepared to be shaped by the foot.
PERES: Yes, the leather: far more supple in the end.
BEILIN: Shimon, if we could, the PLO? Arafat?
PERES: What we must not do is allow the details to obscure the bigger picture. If this deal does not happen, the PLO will be so hollowed out, so bereft of victories, it may well cease to exist. This we cannot allow. For Israel needs the PLO to exist. (Off shocked faces) Well I don’t love them either, but when I look at the alternatives, I become very romantic.
(To Mona) Speaking of this, do you have plans for dinner?
(To them all) Arafat is tricky, but he is a man. And a man aches for one thing above all. His home.
(To Savir) Tell your counterpart to tell Arafat that if he makes this deal with us, I will allow him and the rest of the PLO leadership to return to Gaza.
BEILIN: Shimon. The PLO—Arafat—In Gaza?
PERES: If we are to be bold, it must be now.
(To them all) Get them all back to Oslo, for one last round.
And from now on we tell the Americans nothing.
HOLST: But, Shimon—
Nothing?
PERES: The Americans cannot stand it when others take the lead. I was this close to making peace with King Hussein and the Jordanians—until the Americans got wind and scuttled it. This, they will not scuttle.
MONA: But the Americans could ask, directly, at any moment. Terje and I know this firsthand.
PERES: If they ask—any of us—we say the Channel is closed.
HOLST: You . . . you mean, flat-out lie?
PERES: Well, what is a lie but a dream that could come true? Fast and high, my friends: it is the only way.
Warplanes. Tank fire.
MONA (To us): Twenty-four July. Israel launches a full-on assault against Hezbollah in southern Lebanon. Two hundred thousand refugees stream toward Beirut. Casualties in the hundreds. Reprisal rockets kill Israeli civilians.
The crowd of Palestinian Citizens again fills the stage.
(To us) Meanwhile, in Tunis, the PLO’s telephone lines are cut off due to unpaid bills. Salaries are frozen.
PALESTINIAN CITIZENS (In Arabic): [Let us work!]
MONA (To us): The PLO is unable to pay welfare to fifty thousand families in the Occupied Territories, who have no other income.
PALESTINIAN CITIZENS (In Arabic): [Let us work!]
MONA (To us): And none of this is mentioned—not a word, by either side—as they push on. In this room, in this castle, for one last round.
A frayed Singer, Savir, Qurie, and Asfour in the negotiating room.
SAVIR: End of Article Eight. The sentence: “Israel will continue to carry all responsibilities,�
� must be followed by the words: “for defending against external threats or terrorist threats.”
QURIE: We will accept “external threats,” but not “terrorist threats.”
SAVIR: Agreed.
QURIE: The long-standing UN Resolutions 242 and 338 criticizing the Israeli occupation must be included in this document.
SAVIR: That we categorically reject. But if you are willing to postpone discussion on the future of Israeli settlements—
QURIE: No. We will not.
But.
The Right of Return for those displaced in the ’67 War . . .
This we agree to postpone to a later date.
SAVIR: And if you are willing to accept our control of border security . . . We will withdraw all our forces from Gaza and Jericho at the same time.
QURIE: The City of Jerusalem will be the capital for both—
SAVIR AND SINGER: NO.
Borregaard Estate. The drawing room. Very late.
Thor is drunk, standing before an equally soused Singer and Savir, and Qurie and Asfour, and Hirschfeld—while Pundak slumps in a chair, passed out. As Larsen refills their whiskey glasses . . .
THOR: Abu Ala, I am telling you what I believe: you people drive me crazy.
(Pointing between the Israelis and Palestinians) There is no difference between you!
(Over their laughter) Now, if you want to talk about Norwegians and Swedes, then we are talking about differences.
SINGER (Rising): I’ll tell you what drives me crazy.
If I hear one more Israeli say Israel is part of the “West,” I’m going to punch them. All those fuckers in Tel Aviv, acting like they live in California. Like all they have to worry about is their tans and their swimming pools. Yeah, the West are our allies, but we are not them.
ASFOUR: At least you have allies, comrade. What we have is lip service.
(Cutting them all off before they can speak) Egyptians, Jordanians, Kuwaitis, Iranians, Saudis—their governments beat their breasts about the “Plight of the Palestinians,” but they do not give a fuck about the Palestinians. Our cause is an opiate they inject into the proletariat masses so they will not turn their anger on their own decadent capitalist masters!
