Obama and Netanyahu chatted and I went on nodding approvingly. My face wore the upbeat expression I had long perfected. My thoughts, though, kept wandering elsewhere.
Starting tomorrow, I would once again be a civilian, no longer bound by protocol or government positions, but a free person in possession of ideas. The realization was at once liberating and scary. I would get up in the morning, but then, I fretted, do what? Rahm Emanuel supplied one answer. “Take a five-week vacation,” the mayor advised me during a recent farewell visit to Chicago. “You’re more tired than you know. Sometime during the second week you’ll admit to yourself, ‘Holy shit, was I tired.’ ” Though I still felt energized, right there on the blue-striped Oval Office sofa, images of alabaster beaches beckoned.
But David Rothkopf had different plans for me and they did not involve taking a break. “Of course, you’re going into politics,” he said matter-of-factly during the course of our farewell lunch. My jaw froze in mid-chew. “I have zero political experience,” I managed to gulp while my old college roommate merely laughed. “Don’t be silly. For years now you’ve been doing nothing but politics and at the highest level.”
The thought of running for public office had never occurred to me, but David planted a seed. I knew that I wanted to keep serving Israel and believed that I could bring all that I had learned and experienced to bear. And at a time when Israel faced fateful challenges, how could I stand aside? But, then again, I questioned whether I could handle the rough-and-tumble of Israeli politics, the constant press scrutiny, and the chaos of the Knesset, where speakers are routinely shouted down. If, in America, candidates throw their hats into the ring, in Israel they “leap into the mud.” Could I, at this age, begin a new and more onerous quest?
The conversation between Obama and Netanyahu meanwhile moved on to Syria, which, the prime minister predicted, might soon break apart, and then to America’s policy on Egypt, where, the president averred, “we cannot act as if it’s business as usual.”
Within my mind, meanwhile, another dialogue took place. “If you will it, it is no dream,” I imagined Theodor Herzl saying. William Butler Yeats agreed but reminded him that, “In dreams begin responsibility.”
Snapping out of this reverie, I heard Obama assure Netanyahu, “If war comes, we’re with you, because that’s what the American people want.” The remark recalled the conclusion I reached back in 2009, that Obama’s position on Israel reflected his understanding of its place in American affections. Still, I found myself wishing that the president would say, just once, “We’re with you because it’s the right thing to do.” Or, “We’re with you, because that’s in America’s interest. We’re with you, because, both strategically and morally, Israel is our ally.”
With that wistful thought, I left the Oval Office for the final time and boarded the prime minister’s limousine for our last stop of the day. More than 125 Congress members—a quarter of the House—waited to say goodbye to me. This, in itself, represented an immense honor, but I was unprepared for what was said.
Majority Leader Eric Cantor thanked me for “making it so much easier for us in Congress to step up and defend democracy,” and his Democratic counterpart, Nancy Pelosi, lauded the “eye of an historian, the skill of a diplomat” that deepened America’s appreciation of Israel, “the greatest single achievement of the twentieth century.” Majority Whip Kevin McCarthy praised the “knowledge, passion, and persuasiveness” that ensured continued bipartisan support for Israel. Steny Hoyer, the great Democratic whip, described me as holding “fast to the Zionist dream of a peaceful Israel—strong in arms and equally strong in its democratic principles, while recognizing the difficult road to realizing all of our dreams, America’s as well.” On an exalted note, Steny concluded, “Two countries, one dream.”
If left blushing by these encomiums, the prime minister’s remarks stirred me. After portraying me as a “human bridge” between the United States and Israel and citing my Power, Faith, and Fantasy book about America in the Middle East, Netanyahu revealed as much about his own worldview as mine:
History is not just a flat chronicle of events. History is an understanding of the forces that work, the values that shape present action and direct the future. If you have that knowledge, you are empowered in ways that you can’t get by watching the nightly news or reading the morning editorials. We live in an ahistorical age when many people’s memories go back to breakfast, but if you’re armed with that insight you have immense power for good.
More superlatives were offered, many of them directed at Sally, who had hosted so many of the members present and impressed with her sincerity and warmth. The speakers sat down, the list exhausted except for one.
No time was available to prepare a text, so I thanked the members for the confidence they had showed in me, for helping to defend Israel, and for assuring our people that “above the Iron Dome, stands the marble dome” of the Capitol. Recalling my years of research, I admitted how “immensely humbling this job had been, for the alliance was far deeper and multidimensional than anything I could have read in a library.” And I evoked my youth, my love for the United States, “its values, its principles,” and how “the fulfillment of the Zionist idea became, for me, the fulfillment of the American idea.” I was getting choked up, and admitted it. So, before embarrassing myself, I cut to the end. “For the last time, in the name of the Government, the State, and the People of Israel, I say to each and every one of you, todah rabah. Thank you.”
Early the next morning, the movers carted our boxes to the truck. Ron Dermer and his family would enter a newly built house. The Residence, the former home of Yitzhak Rabin and so many other worthy ambassadors, would be shuttered. Reluctant to watch that process and confident that Sally had everything under control, I allowed myself to slip away.
Security precautions limited the ambassador’s maneuverability, but I was no longer Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary, nor even Your Excellency. I was just a private Israeli citizen who, for the first time, strode out of his front door and onto the street, unescorted by guards. I descended the hill toward Rock Creek Park, dressed in jeans and sneakers. Nobody saw me and, even if they had, few would have recognized me out of customary diplomatic garb.
Cloaked in that anonymity, I stood on a wooden bridge just as the early October sun pierced the trees. Leaves were already falling, seesawing down to the water, where they melted into a golden flow. Autumn was always my favorite season, a time for reflection and taking stock. Thinking back on the past four years evoked many emotions—frustration and fulfillment, exhilaration and fear. Overwhelmingly, though, the deepest feeling was gratitude.
A NIGHT AT KIBBUTZ NA’AN
The Bar Mitzvah party had just started on the lawn of Kibbutz Na’an, near central Israel. In a truly collective celebration, all of the community’s thirteen-year-olds and their families had gathered on a lawn illuminated by decorative lanterns. Sally and I, along with Lee Moser and her husband, Dar, were the guests of my former spokesman from Washington, Aaron Sagui, whose son, Gal, was among those being honored.
The scene appeared festive, yet the mood felt subdued. The date was July 7, 2014, just days after Hamas terrorists abducted and murdered three Israeli teenagers not much older than Gal. Israel retaliated with aerial strikes against Hamas targets in Gaza. And Hamas was certain to fire back. As we drove into the kibbutz, I turned to Sally and said, “You know we’re in range.”
Suddenly a siren wailed and hundreds of guests frantically ran for cover. Only there was no cover. The rockets would take less than a minute to reach the kibbutz, and we were caught in the open.
—
Nine months had passed since moving back to Israel. Renting an apartment in Tel Aviv, Sally and I reunited with our children and reveled in Ariel and Romi, our first two Israeli grandchildren. Mornings, I rowed on the Yarkon River—a creek compared to the Potomac, but calmer—and then thrilled to the city’s nonstop effervescence. When trekking to Jaffa along
the beachfront, passing classical string quartets, Hare Krishna proselytizers, triathlon trainers, senior citizen group dancers, and a profusion of frolicking kids, I was reminded of how youthful and creative Israel remained, and how cool. Landing here, any American would at once feel at home. And I sometimes wondered why any American would want to weaken this familiar patch of freedom that flourishes only a few hours’ drive from the killing fields of Iraq and Syria.
But Israel was not only Tel Aviv promenades. The nation I returned to grappled with staggering challenges, from mind-numbing bureaucracy to rising poverty rates and a declining quality of education. It faced growing Ultra-Orthodox and Arab communities that rejected the state’s raison d’être, and settler violence that darkened its reputation. It wrestled with the West Bank Palestinians who, if given independence, could mortally threaten Israel’s existence but who, if granted citizenship, could undermine its Jewish and democratic character. Sovereignty is messy, I recalled, and, yes, that mess was our responsibility to repair.
Meanwhile, I went back to work. Holding the Abba Eban Chair in International Diplomacy at the Inter-Disciplinary Center—IDC—in Herzliya, and a fellow of Washington’s Atlantic Council, I engaged in “track two” diplomacy on Middle East issues with U.S. and European officials. On the pages of Foreign Policy, David Rothkopf and I published our visceral exchange on the relationship between Israel and American Jews.
David wrote:
There are many Americans who support Israel….But the…construction of settlements…has undercut its moral high ground. Israel has almost systematically made it harder for those who would be supportive to follow through on that impulse.
And I replied:
It’s time that American Jews see Israel not as a Hollywood or Hebrew school fantasy but…as a real country made…of humans caught in inhuman circumstances….Tired after two wars in which the vast majority [of Americans] didn’t fight? Try dealing with eight…together with thousands of rockets raining on your cities, countless bombs blowing up buses….
David asserted:
Today there are other safe places for Jews in the world, notably America. Today there are other ways for Jews to live and be true to their traditions that don’t involve the harsher realities of a garrison state.
And I retorted:
Israel, in spite of unspeakable pressures, managed to stay democratic, open, creative, self-correcting (frequently to a fault), self-defending, ultra-literate (in Hebrew), and Jewish.
“Israel cannot be the Jewish state,” David argued. “It can be a Jewish state. But…to be a moral state, it must guarantee the rights…of every citizen….It is hard to say Israel does that now.”
And I maintained:
Israel is the Jewish State because it, alone, is situated in our ancestral homeland, provided refuge to Jews from more than seventy countries, revived the ancient Jewish language, and observes a national Jewish calendar. It is the Jewish State because it will aid you and your family…because you are Jews. When I relinquished my U.S. citizenship, an American consul punched a hole in my passport. But no one can punch a hole in the passport linking you to Israel because your passport is your membership in the Jewish people.
While writing for American readers, I also became a frequent guest on Israeli TV. Here was another trying transition. Who was I now? A spokesman for the government still or a private citizen? An ambassador whose job it was to preserve bridges and not shake them? It took many stilted interviews before I regained my sense of self and commented freely on the alliance.
In the interim, I searched for the right way to contribute all that I had learned and experienced to strengthening Israel’s foreign policy, and to take responsibility. I did not heed Rahm Emanuel’s advice to lie on some beach for five weeks, but neither did I have the chance. Events moved entirely too swiftly.
—
Less than two months after I left Washington, the administration finally admitted that it had been secretly negotiating with the Islamic regime for the previous seven months. Israel had long feared such bilateral talks, in part because Washington’s position on Iran was the most flexible of the Western members of the P5+1. France, for example, demanded that Iran disclose its previous work on nuclear weaponization, while the United States apparently did not. Though Obama’s spokespeople insisted that “no deal with Iran is better than a bad deal,” some senior Israeli analysts began to question whether, for this White House, a bad deal was better than none.
Israeli anxieties appeared to be validated on November 24, when the P5+1 signed an interim agreement—the Joint Plan of Action—with Iran. This removed the Iranian store of 20 percent–enriched uranium and intensified international monitoring. But the nineteen thousand centrifuges remained intact, as did the vastly larger stockpile of 3.5 percent–enriched uranium, and no limits were placed on Iran’s nuclear research or missile development. Sanctions for the first time would not be ramped up, but eased by some $7 billion.
“There is no daylight between…Israel and the United States,” Secretary Kerry told American television. “Israel is, in fact, safer than it was yesterday.” This was news to Netanyahu. “The agreement is an historic mistake,” he fumed. “Today the world has become a much more dangerous place because the most dangerous regime in the world has taken a significant step toward attaining the most dangerous weapon in the world.” Former secretaries of state Henry Kissinger and George Shultz agreed, telling Congress that Iran had “outmaneuvered” the United States and set the stage for a Middle East nuclear arms race.
Common to Netanyahu, Kissinger, and Shultz was the realization that the Security Council’s original goal of eliminating Iran’s nuclear program had been supplanted by an arrangement that actually preserved it. In place of denying the ayatollahs the ability to break out and produce a weapon before the world could react, the deal threatened to cement that ability. Rather than demand that Iran cease supporting terror and threatening America’s allies, the arrangement implicitly recognized Iran’s regional aspirations and its right to enrich uranium. The sanctions built up over more than a decade would, for the first time, be lessened. “The cracks in the sanctions began last night,” Rouhani trumpeted, “and in the future those gaps will grow.”
Though originally slated to last six months, the interim agreement was extended for an additional half year while negotiations with Iran dragged on. The window for diplomacy that the administration consistently warned would not remain indefinitely open so far proved to be precisely that. Israel supported a congressional initiative to increase pressure on the Iranians—“They’re on the ropes,” Netanyahu urged, “Don’t let them off the mat”—only to encounter unflinching resistance. Ben Rhodes, Obama’s strategic communications advisor, urged liberal lobbyists to ask Congress members, “Are you for solving this diplomatically or being forced…to war?” That binary view—negotiations or conflict—discounted the third option of heightened pressure on Iran. Nevertheless, it worked. The new sanctions bill, which Israel insisted would keep the Iranians at the table but Obama warned would drive them away, was deferred.
Most disturbing for me personally was the realization that our closest ally had entreated with our deadliest enemy on an existential issue without so much as informing us. Instead, Obama kept signaling his eagerness for a final treaty with Iran. In a personal letter to the supreme leader—his fourth—the president purportedly suggested that, in return for scaling back its nuclear program, Iran could cooperate with the United States in combating radical Sunnis in Syria and Iraq.
Huge swaths of both countries were being conquered by the Islamic State (IS), which aimed to replace them with a jihadist caliphate. In the second half of 2014, as IS’s black flags neared Baghdad, an English-speaking masked murderer beheaded two American journalists. Theatrically filmed, the executions were designed to go viral in the media and goad the press-sensitive administration to intervene militarily. This posed little threat to IS, which had witnessed America’s retreat from Afghanis
tan and Iraq. Yet a de facto alliance between the United States and the Shiite and Iranian forces battling IS was seen as an effective Sunni recruiting tool.
And Obama obliged. Acting to “degrade and ultimately destroy” the Islamic State, U.S. jets joined with a coalition of Western and Arab forces in fighting the terrorists. The decision nevertheless represented a setback for the president, who styled himself as the ender, rather than the reviver, of Middle Eastern wars. As in his earlier response to Syria’s use of chemical weapons, he sought congressional approval for action against IS.
The movement nevertheless metastasized throughout the region and especially in Libya, where the terrorists beheaded twenty-one Egyptian Christian workers. But in contrast to its criticism of President al-Sisi and Egypt’s air campaign against IS in Libya, the administration downplayed Iran’s ground action against IS in Iraq. The supreme leader repeatedly denounced IS as an American plot, but, just as consistently, the administration signaled its interest in finding a common ground with Iran. The major hurdle, Obama intimated, was the nuclear program.
“[I]f we were able to get Iran to operate in a responsible fashion,” he told The New Yorker, “you could see an equilibrium developing between [it and] Sunni…Gulf states.” Once restored to the international community, Iran could become a “very successful regional power,” the president said in subsequent interviews. Though anti-Semitic, the regime was rational and, once relieved of sanctions, might devote its wealth to peaceful purposes. And just as Nixon-era America’s opening to China and Russia favorably altered their behavior—proponents of an agreement claimed—so, too, might the current engagement policy change Tehran. “Iran is a complicated country just like we’re a complicated country,” Obama observed. A strategic threat with a nuclear weapon, Iran with a contained ability to make an atomic bomb was the gateway to stability—the White House seemed to suggest.
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