Three weeks ago, former officials from the Israeli government and the Palestinian Authority announced that they had negotiated a detailed framework for resolving the Israeli-Palestinian dispute. Ever since, Israeli public discourse -- for the first time since Prime Minister Ariel Sharon's landslide re-election earlier this year -- has focused on the possibilities for peace rather than simply on the miseries of war. To be sure, there is no guarantee that the Geneva Accord, as the plan is called, will provide the groundwork for an official agreement; nor is the plan certain to revitalize the long-moribund Israeli left. But the agreement has ushered the prospect of a negotiated settlement back onto the political stage -- both inside and outside Israel -- and put pressure on Sharon's government to supplement its military measures with small overtures toward peace. In that sense, the accord is already a success.
The agreement was primarily the work of Yossi Beilin, a former Israeli justice minister (who wrote this article for the Prospect last year), and Yasir Abed Rabbo, the former Palestinian information minister. When negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians broke down in early 2001, Beilin and Rabbo decided to continue their dialogue informally. "We wanted to prove to ourselves that a final agreement was feasible, to prove to the peace camps on both sides that there is a partner and a plan," Beilin wrote last week. Perhaps his most important accomplishment has been to cast doubt on Sharon's longstanding contention that there is no negotiating partner on the Palestinian side.
But the talks were about more than merely proving the existence of potential partners for peace. "As someone who participated in these negotiations since they started, I can tell you that all along, both sides regarded these negotiations as real ones," Uri Zaki, an aide to Beilin, told me during a phone conversation this past weekend. "Our target was to bring a whole package -- a closed one, a model agreement -- that would have the ability to be adopted as is, and that serves the Israeli interest as we see it and the Palestinian interest as they see it." Indeed, the Geneva Accord settles every major contentious issue: It maps out control of Jerusalem down to the last inch of land, it specifies which Israeli settlements would be disbanded and which retained, and it solves -- albeit with some ambiguity -- the Palestinian claim to a right of return.
Just about everyone who believes in a two-state solution recognizes the value of the accord. As Nahum Barnea, Israel's most prominent political columnist, wrote in the daily newspaper Yediot Ahronot last month, "What is written in this document is, more or less, what will be written in the final status arrangement that Israel will sign with any free Palestinian regime." Dan Rothem, research director at the Washington-based Center for Middle East Peace and Economic Cooperation, said the accord represents a potentially important juncture in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. "It's the first time that a permanent status agreement" has been reached, he told me. "Until now, the entire history of negotiations is just proposals and counterproposals."
Meanwhile, for the first time in two years, the opposition Labor Party is showing signs of life. On Saturday night, a rally to commemorate the eighth anniversary of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin's assassination became the largest pro-peace event since the second Palestinian intifada began in 2001. At the rally, the Israeli left's senior statesman, Shimon Peres, harshly denounced Sharon's policies, praised the new Palestinian prime minister, Ahmed Qureia, and expressed hope that negotiation is still possible. "He believes terrorism must be stopped for the good of the Palestinians, that peace must be achieved and compromises be made," Peres said of Qureia. "He is a man of deeds, someone with whom it is possible to hold serious dialogue."
Just as important as the potential resurgence of Israel's peace camp is the dissent that appears to be percolating within Sharon's government. In the past 10 days, the country's highest-ranking military officer and two members of the cabinet have expressed dissatisfaction with the government's military tactics in the occupied territories. It all started on Oct. 28 when the Israeli Defense Forces' (IDF) chief of staff, Moshe Ya'alon, told reporters that the government's policy of occupying Palestinian towns, enforcing strict curfews and placing travel restrictions on Palestinians was not serving the country well. "In our tactical decisions, we are operating contrary to our strategic interest," Ya'alon said. "It increases hatred for Israel and strengthens the terror organizations." The prime minister's office called for an apology or resignation from Ya'alon, but later retracted that demand. The IDF's press department subsequently "clarified" the general's comments, but by the end of the week reports had surfaced that Foreign Minister Silvan Shalom and Deputy Prime Minister Ehud Olmert also believe that travel restrictions on Palestinians should be eased. These debates are indicative of a changing atmosphere: The Geneva Accord and the sudden potential for diplomacy are making many Israelis incredulous that Sharon's aggression is the only option. As Ha'aretz reported last week, "Now, for the first time since the Intifada began, there are growing doubts among senior levels in the IDF about the political echelon's strategy."
Though the American press has almost completely ignored the agreement -- we've got our own Middle East crisis to worry about now -- Europeans (and not just the leaders of "old Europe") are expressing support. The Swiss foreign ministry partially funded the negotiations that led to the Geneva Accord (hence the name), and since its announcement, Norway and Belgium have also given their endorsements. The big news, however, came when British Prime Minister Tony Blair issued a statement of support for the agreement on Oct. 30. He said he hoped that it would stimulate debate and bring the Israeli and Palestinian leaders back to the negotiating table. Most important, perhaps, he debunked Sharon's claim that the agreement conflicts with the U.S.- and British-backed road map for Middle East peace, arguing correctly that "the road map never described a settlement, just how to get there. So imaginative thinking about the end game does not cut across it. It complements it."
The Bush administration has been lukewarm in its reaction to the accord, insisting through the State Department that the road map, not the Geneva Accord, represents the best hope for peace. Still, the administration hasn't been completely dismissive, either. "We're encouraged that the Israelis and Palestinians are talking," says State Department press agent Nancy Beck. And there is always the chance that the administration could be swayed by the views of the British prime minister. As Rothem told me, "Blair has influence over Bush -- or is one of the few who has some influence over Bush."
As for Sharon, he may have harshly condemned the accord three weeks ago -- calling it "traitorous" -- but he now appears to have changed his approach, perhaps in response to how well the agreement has been received in Israel and elsewhere. "I believe that very soon a new Palestinian leadership will materialize, oppose the policies of terror, violence and incitement adopted by Yasir Arafat, and be prepared to work together with us on a genuine, honest implementation of the road map," he said while visiting Moscow on Monday. Significantly, he singled out Qureia as a viable leader. For three years, Sharon has argued that he has no one to negotiate with on the Palestinian side. Abed Rabbo is certainly a somebody, and his long history as a central -- if moderate -- player in the Palestinian government will give him credibility in selling the agreement to his peers. The Geneva Accord disproves Sharon's claim that there is no one to talk to, and he may now have to adjust his political posture accordingly.
Of course, Geneva's authors have no illusions about the difficulty of the task they have set for themselves. As Zaki told me, "Now is the beginning of the process, not the end." But after the past three years of bloodshed, it's exciting that there's a process at all.
Ady Barkan is a sophomore at Columbia University and a senior editor of the Columbia Political Review.