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The roller coaster sped and, occasionally, it swooped. The last and steepest lap began at the outset of 2013, shortly after the inauguration. Such an ascent invariably presaged the most precipitous drop. Yet, after all the vacillations of the previous two years, through the ups and downs in the media and the American Jewish community and treacherous turns in the peace process and the Iranian nuclear issue, I welcomed the momentary respite. For a few moments—metaphorically—I could catch my breath while Obama planned his first presidential visit to Israel.
ALLY, GOODBYE
Sanitation crews in Washington were sweeping up the confetti from the previous day’s inauguration ceremony and pundits were still debating whether or not superstar Beyoncé lip-synched the national anthem, when Israel also went to the polls. Precipitated by a failure to pass the state’s budget, rising opposition to Ultra-Orthodox exemptions from the IDF, and the inability of many Israelis to make a living, the 2013 elections shook up the country’s politics as rarely before. If, in America, the recent presidential contest produced continuity, the Israeli race augured change.
By this time, I had spent nearly five years in the United States, and was often more familiar with National Football League standings than with most domestic trends in Israel. Still, I knew that the country, no less than America, was undergoing dramatic transformations. Once, just after landing at Ben-Gurion Airport, I cabbed to Tel Aviv’s affluent Rothschild Street to speak with young people who had set up hundreds of tents in an act of social protest. They loved Israel, they told me, had served it proudly in uniform, and only wanted to live in it with economic dignity.
North of Rothschild Street, though, I encountered the other Israel—the start-up state where Apple, Google, Intel, and three hundred foreign high-tech companies maintained gleaming R&D offices. I witnessed evidence of a society becoming at once more liberal, with same-sex couples openly holding hands, as well as more religious. There were more Hasidic black hats on the heads of those refusing to serve in the military and more knitted kippas on those who did. I saw cafés brimming at all hours with leisurely customers while other Israelis labored even longer hours to get by. I saw a settler constituency swiftly expanding and peace groups whose numbers shrank in proportion to the Palestinians’ refusal to negotiate. Returning to Israel, I saw a people who ranked among the world’s leaders in health, happiness, and educational levels, but for whom cynicism and hardship was a fixture of life—a people at once flourishing and wearying of struggle.
Israeli democracy is acutely sensitive to such shifts and the 2013 contest reflected them. Netanyahu’s Likud merged with Foreign Minister Liberman’s Israel Our Home Party to form a decisive right-of-center bloc. After breaking with the Labor Party, a faction following Ehud Barak failed to gain a single Knesset seat. Tzipi Livni’s Movement Party also lost power, impelling her to join the coalition. And two new parties emerged. The Jewish Home Party tapped into the rightward and religious swing, especially among young people, as embodied by its leader, Naftali Bennett, a Sayeret Matkal veteran and successful entrepreneur, the son of Americans who made aliya. The biggest winner, though, was There Is a Future—Yesh Atid, in Hebrew—which promised just that to financially strapped Israelis who could not afford an apartment. Its head, former TV talk show host Yair Lapid, proved that Israelis, too, could elect an Obama-like candidate. Whatever he lacked in political and managerial experience, Lapid made up for with eloquence and charisma.
Pausing to smile at the cameras, I dropped the anomalously low-tech envelope containing my ballot into the polling box set up at the embassy. I made a statement about the blessings of Israeli democracy and the responsibility that we, as voters, bore. I did not mention the challenges ahead—a second-term president with little to lose by pressuring us and a new Israeli government that was likely to be less centrist than the last. My worries I confided only to my innermost staff, to Chief of Staff Lee Moser and to my new spokesman Aaron Sagui, a sharp-witted and loyal young man who had replaced the otherwise irreplaceable Lior Weintraub. “That is why we get the big shekels,” I told them.
But no amount of remuneration could salve my concerns as Jeffrey Goldberg again quoted Obama assailing Netanyahu’s settlement policy and saying that “Israel doesn’t know what its own best interests are.” Then, on January 30, The New York Times reported that Israeli jets had struck the outskirts of Damascus and destroyed a Hezbollah-bound convoy of sophisticated antiaircraft missiles. Israel declined to comment on the claims, but U.S. administration sources leaked the news. Russia and Turkey promptly denounced the attack while Syria and Iran threatened retaliation.
Tensions reached another peak with the retirement of Secretary of Defense Panetta and Obama’s decision to replace him with Chuck Hagel. Unusual for a midwestern Republican, Hagel was renowned for criticizing Israel. He once appeared to justify Palestinian suicide bombers as “desperate men [who] do desperate things when you take hope away,” and described U.S. support during the Second Lebanon War as “irresponsible and dangerous.” He refused to designate Hezbollah a terrorist organization and called for reconciliation with Iran and Hamas. A decorated Vietnam veteran, Hagel targeted AIPAC, which he controversially called “the Jewish lobby” and accused of intimidating Congress. “I’m not an Israeli senator,” he defiantly declared. “I’m a United States senator.” But as hard as he could be on Israel, Hagel was soft on Iran. During his confirmation hearings, he described the Iranian regime as “elected” and “legitimate” and supported Obama’s “position on containment.” Only after receiving notes from a senatorial aide did Hagel clarify that Iran “is recognized by the UN” and that “we do not favor containment.” Such corrections could not, however, erase Hagel’s record of opposing the Iranian sanctions.
The Hagel nomination not only reinserted the Israeli wedge between Democrats and Republicans but, for the first time, divided the pro-Israel camp. Reluctant to confront the administration on an appointment it could not block, AIPAC endorsed Hagel. Some of Israel’s right-wing advocates assailed the organization for preserving bipartisanship rather than securing Israel’s needs. Obama also named John Kerry, never meek in his opposition to Israeli policies in the territories, as his next secretary of state. Still taking flak for her remarks following the Benghazi incident, Susan Rice received the compensatory post of national security advisor.
As befitting a foreign ambassador, I kept silent on the confirmation process. I had never met Hagel, but I knew that every defense secretary learns to value the U.S.-Israel alliance and that this one would be no exception. Kerry and Rice, by contrast, were familiar to me and I thought they could establish good working relations with Israel. Obama’s detractors, though, saw these appointments as a deliberate attempt to supplant friends of Israel—Clinton, Panetta, and Tom Donilon—with outspoken critics. “Obama wants to hurt Israel,” wrote the ultraconservative Israeli columnist Caroline Glick. “He is appointing…advisors and cabinet members not despite their anti-Israel positions, but because of them.”
Imagine my relief, then, when the White House informed me that Obama’s first trip abroad in his second term would not be to Turkey this time or to Cairo. I had long grappled with press and public questions of why Obama, as president, had never been to Israel. “He’ll come when the time is right” was my standard answer, usually accompanied by reminders that Reagan had never once visited Israel and George W. Bush only at the very end of his presidency. Now I learned that Obama would spend three days, from Wednesday, March 20, to Friday, March 22, in my country. More than relieved, actually, I was ecstatic. Here, suddenly, was the opportunity to convey an image of American-Israeli strength and unity to a tired and riven region. Now, after more than four years of receiving mixed messages, the world would hear a single word: ally.
You Are Not Alone
I had, over the years, waited on many tarmacs, yet none as spectacular as this. Arrayed on either side of me stood Israel’s civil, military, and religious leaders—mi
nisters, generals, Supreme Court justices, rabbis, imams, and priests. IDF honor guards straightened their lines and a military band tuned its instruments. Behind us, the grandstands bristled with hundreds of cameras. And thousands of security personnel patrolled the grounds while, above, military helicopters circled. The sheer color of it all was stunning: the black cassocks and ivory turbans, gold braiding and silver scepters, a spectrum of uniforms from tan to navy and verdigris. But most eye-catching of all were the flags. In fluttering bouquets they lined the runway, sharing blues and whites and a profusion of stars, five-pointed and six. Only the reds of Old Glory stuck out against the bronzed background of the Judean Hills. Those reds reminded me of all the sacrifices required to reach this moment and of the many that might be prevented if this moment endured.
The midday sun, already scorching on this pre-spring day, pounded the crowd. Yet I barely broke a sweat. Worries about possible obstacles and faux pas preoccupied me. So, too, did the question of whether the visit would achieve the goals I originally held up. The first was to introduce Israelis to Obama—for them to see him up close, interacting with young people and communities from different backgrounds. In my conversations with Ben Rhodes, the president’s unprepossessing but savvy advisor for strategic communications, I suggested that Obama conduct a town-hall meeting in a working-class Israeli neighborhood or play basketball with some disadvantaged teenagers. I hoped that, time and security precautions permitting, he could leave the Tel Aviv–Jerusalem corridor and reach out to Israelis north and south. But the second objective was even more pressing. The official visits and the president’s remarks should broadcast the uniqueness of the U.S.-Israeli alliance and the indigenousness of the Jewish State.
Attaining the first goal, I quickly learned, would be difficult. The immensity of the president’s entourage, including hundreds of advance team members and his personal staff, ruled out all but short-distance travel, and concerns for his safety understandably prevailed. “I have this fantasy that I can put on a disguise, wear a fake mustache, and I can wander through Tel Aviv and go to a bar,” Obama told the talented Israeli news anchor Yonit Levi just before the trip. Going incognito, alas, was out of the question. So was visiting an outlying town or shooting hoops. At best, the president could interact with the members of a youth choir and speak before Israeli students.
By contrast, the second goal proved achievable and beyond my brightest hopes. Many of the tour’s events were designed to vitiate the spurious claim that Israel existed solely because of the Holocaust rather than the Jews’ millennia-long attachment to the Land. The message did not come cost-free; in addition to meeting Mahmoud Abbas in Ramallah, Obama agreed to visit Bethlehem. But the price seemed more than worth it. To the Palestinians and other Middle Eastern peoples who denied that a Jewish Temple once stood in Jerusalem, America’s president would send a resounding “no!”
Now, as Air Force One glided into the skies over Ben-Gurion Airport, the schedule was immutably set and the throngs on the ground instinctively stiffened. The Boeing 747, similar in class and color to El Al’s, touched down and taxied to the movable stairs. The main hatch swung open and, to a fanfare of “Hail to the Chief,” President Obama emerged. He waved and descended in his trademark jog to the crimson carpet where President Peres and Prime Minister Netanyahu awaited. They viewed the honor guard and then mounted a podium.
“This is an historic moment,” Netanyahu began, and proceeded to thank Obama for his support for Israel’s defense and its right to exist as the Jewish State. Referring to the Yonit Levi interview, he added that arrangements had been made to enable the president to visit a few Tel Aviv bars. “We even prepared a fake mustache for you.” The onlookers chuckled but then emotionally choked when Obama greeted them in Hebrew: “Tov L’hiyot shuv ba’aratez”—It’s good to be back in the Land. He proceeded to describe Israel as “the historic homeland of the Jewish people” and to recall its three-thousand-year history. Then he extolled the alliance:
We share a common story: patriots determined to be a free people in our own land, pioneers who forged a nation, heroes who sacrificed to preserve our freedom, and immigrants from every corner of the world….We stand together because we are democracies, as noisy and messy as it can be….It is in our fundamental national security interest to stand with Israel. That is why the Star of David and the Stars and Stripes fly together today. And that is why…our alliance is eternal.
He ended with another Hebrew word—L’Netzah—meaning “forever,” which, despite the heat, left me shivering. Barack Obama had just articulated the vision that inspired most of my life decisions and still fortified me daily. Powerful emotions welled up within me, but not for long. After briskly shaking hands with the guests, the president hustled the hundred yards toward the Iron Dome.
Of course, the president had to visit the antiballistic system to which he contributed so generously. My original idea was to drive Obama to a hilltop overlooking Tel Aviv, and there, with the city it protected in the background, tour Iron Dome. But time constraints dictated that the hill come to Obama, and the battery was transferred to the airport. Striding briskly, the president took off his suit jacket and slung it over his shoulder. Netanyahu did likewise, exposing himself to Israeli media caricatures of a copycat. I followed closely behind them and, despite the heat quivering above the macadam, kept my jacket on.
Events moved quickly—almost too quickly—after that. The president surveyed the system’s various components and shook the young soldiers’ hands before his staff whisked him onto one of twelve U.S. military Black Hawks. A logistics foul-up left me jumping onto one of the American choppers for which I had no clearance, but there was no chance to change aircraft, and I flew with the U.S. Army crew to Jerusalem. At the landing site, I hitched a ride on one of the presidential limos for the meeting with Shimon Peres.
The four o’clock hour of the event was determined less by protocol than by Peres’s need, at ninety, to take an afternoon nap. Even then, the motorcade arrived late as the president’s eight-ton and heavily armored Cadillac—“the Beast”—broke down. We arrived, finally, at the President’s House in Jerusalem. Shabby in comparison to Obama’s stately Washington residence, the house nevertheless boasts classic Chagalls and handsome gardens where Obama planted his gift of a magnolia sapling. Journalists quickly learned that Israeli inspectors would have to uproot the tree and check it for disease, but the headline did not spoil Obama’s meeting with the boys and girls who, waving miniature American flags, greeted him with peace songs. “The State of Israel will have no better friend than the United States,” Obama pledged to Peres. The two presidents then left for their usual one-on-one to discuss the typical topics of peace, Iran, and Jonathan Pollard, before the motorcade moved on—literally, down the street—to the Prime Minister’s Residence.
Stripped of pageantry, this was the substantive part of the trip. The standard face-to-face in Netanyahu’s tiny private office went on, as usual, well beyond the allotted time. To the backdrop of somber Rubin paintings and ancient Roman lamps, the two teams sat bantering while our principals spoke discreetly and, hopefully, productively, about the future of the Middle East. Outside, in the courtyard, dozens of journalists waited impatiently for the Q&A. When Obama finally emerged—smiling, all noted—I warned him, “You think the Washington press corps is tough, these Israeli journalists can eat you for breakfast.”
The bitterest portion, though, was served not by Israelis but by an American, NBC’s political director, Chuck Todd. He posed four questions—“Hey, it’s Passover time,” he joked—relating to Obama’s failure to reconcile with the Muslim world and to achieve an Israeli-Palestinian peace. Netanyahu rushed to the president’s defense, telling Todd that “this is not a kosher question, but don’t hog it.” Obama stressed the lack of daylight between the United States and Israel on Iran and his continued opposition to containment. Netanyahu agreed, but clarified that, for Israel, the concern was not the estimated year in which Ir
an could assemble a bomb but rather its ability to break out toward that goal. The most memorable response of the night, though, related to Israeli intelligence reports of yet another chemical attack on Syrian civilians.
The State Department had already declared that the use of such weapons by the regime would constitute a “red line” that the president would strictly enforce. Now, presented with this latest report, Obama responded that, if Assad indeed “let that genie out of the bottle,” then “the international community would have to act.” While he did not actually repeat the words “red line,” the president appeared to have redrawn one.
The press departed and the guests sat down for a working dinner. The setting was sui generis. Opposite Obama sat the prime minister and his wife, flanked by Foreign Minister Liberman, National Security Advisor Amidror, Strategic Affairs Minister Yuval Steinitz, and, for the first time in his new role as defense minister, Moshe “Bogie” Ya’alon. Both Steinitz and Ya’alon had been research fellows with me at the Shalem Center, and I knew that they would provide the president with hard-nosed and well-informed views. The American side also registered some firsts. This was Kerry’s maiden visit to Israel as secretary of state and the first official trips of Senior Advisor Valerie Jarrett and Counselor Peter Rouse, who, though well-known in Washington, were unrecognizable to Israelis.
Over a fare of Jerusalem artichokes, roast beef, and an apple crumble dessert that the president, as usual, did not touch, the conversation toggled between the Israelis’ military backgrounds—most had served in Sayeret Matkal or the paratroopers—and on the need for cyber cooperation. Sara Netanyahu presented the president with a silver Passover plate for his wife, David’s harp medallions for his daughters, and even a rubber hamburger for his dog, Bo. Entertainment came in the form of internationally renowned Israel composer Idan Raichel, who, along with the Sudanese-born Ethiopian singer Cabra Casay, captivated Obama with a fusion of Hebrew, Arabic, and Amharic ballads. Then, after posing with the dreadlocked Raichel, the Americans said good night.
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