On May 26, 2014, an unprecedented public conversation took place in Brussels. Two former high-ranking spymasters of Israel and Saudi Arabia--Amos Yadlin and Prince Turki al-Faisal--sat together for more than an hour, talking regional politics in a conversation moderated by the Washington Post's David Ignatius. They disagreed on some things, like the exact nature of an Israel-Palestine peace settlement, and agreed on others: the severity of the Iranian nuclear threat, the need to support the new military government in Egypt, the demand for concerted international action in Syria. The most striking statement came from Prince Turki. He said the Arabs had "crossed the Rubicon" and "don't want to fight Israel anymore."
The Turki-Yadlin dialogue was not "official," but it sent a clear message. Saudi Arabia's King Abdullah had personally approved the meeting, intending it as an olive branch to the Israelis. But Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu decided not to reciprocate--at least not openly. It was too dangerous politically. Crucial components of Netanyahu's coalition, especially his supporters among right-wing Jewish settlers in the West Bank, oppose any deal with Palestinians.
And yet, in the months after he decided against a public gesture to the Saudis, Netanyahu was suggesting at private meals with editors and influential figures at the U.N. General Assembly meetings last September that an alliance with the Arabs was not only possible but perhaps the best way to resolve the Palestinian problem.
Other odd things have been happening recently in the gridlocked Middle East. On New Year's Day, Egyptian President Abdul Fattah al-Sisi made an interesting speech, challenging Islamic radicalism and calling for a Muslim reformation. "It's inconceivable that the thinking that we hold most sacred," he said, "should cause the entire umma [Islamic world] to be a source of anxiety, danger, killing and destruction for the rest of the world. Impossible!" The sentiments were not unexpected, since al-Sisi had come to power by overthrowing the country's democratically elected Muslim Brotherhood leaders in 2013. (Al-Sisi won a largely uncontested presidential election last year.) But these are not sentiments that have often been uttered publicly by Arab leaders before.
And then, the very next day, the Times of Israel reported that Israeli Foreign Minister Avigdor Lieberman and exiled Palestinian leader Mohammed Dahlan had met privately in Paris. Dahlan has made no secret of his desire to replace Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas; Lieberman is a conservative who has fallen out with Netanyahu and wants to be part of a coalition to replace him. So what on earth were Dahlan and Lieberman talking about?
All of this may add up to nothing. But there seems to be a growing impatience with the perpetual status quo in the region. There is a new generation of leaders pushing for power in Israel and Palestine. There are dangerous new threats like ISIS. There is concern about the U.S.--the possibility of a nuclear deal with Iran, the waning need for Middle East oil. There is the memory of the Arab Spring, which ultimately produced chaos instead of democracy.
The established powers in the region, like Israel, Saudi Arabia and Egypt, have found in recent years that they have increasingly aligned foreign policy interests. The Israelis and Saudis have been sharing intelligence for the past few years, according to regional sources. The Israelis and Egyptians are cooperating on security efforts in Sinai and in Gaza, where Hamas--the Palestinian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood--is a common enemy. There are private talks going on between Israeli and Saudi Arabian officials. "It might be called mushroom diplomacy," an Israeli told me. "It can only grow in the dark."
Most Israeli and Arab officials I spoke with during a December tour of the region acknowledge the mushrooms and hope that the burgeoning relationships--especially the acceptance of Israel as a de facto ally--can be brought to light in time. There are, of course, all the usual roadblocks, including the eternal one: nothing can happen publicly without an Israeli-Palestinian peace settlement. The Saudis and the Arab League promised to recognize Israel in 2002 if such a deal were made, but the Arab terms--a return to 1967 borders, with Palestinians' right of return to their former lands in Israel--were unacceptable to the Israelis. Now those terms may be changing. Prince Turki described the proposal as a "framework," which implies room to maneuver.
Is it possible that the Middle East has become so unstable that an Arab-Israeli peace is no longer unthinkable?
The ISIS Effect
As 2015 begins, the Middle East seems to be a greater mess than it ever was--especially when it comes to the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians. The deterioration began with Israel's 50-day war in Gaza last summer, which increased the popularity of Hamas in the West Bank and has led Abbas to take a series of steps toward the unilateral declaration of Palestinian statehood. In recent weeks, the Palestinian Authority applied for membership in the International Criminal Court--a red flag to the Israelis because the Palestinians would presumably use membership to bring war-crimes charges against Israel. In return, the Israelis have cut off the monthly payment of taxes they collect for the PA, which represent almost 80% of the government's $160 million monthly budget. It is possible that the Palestinians could retaliate by suspending government operations in the West Bank--schools, health care and, especially, security. Chaos would be the likely result.
In the rest of the region, the sectarian split between Sunni and Shi'ite has become more dangerous, even as it has become more confusing. The Sunni Arab nations--which include Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Jordan and the Gulf states--have worried for a decade that the U.S. demolition of Saddam Hussein's ugly but stable dictatorship in Iraq has created a power vacuum in a broad swath of the region that the Iranians are exploiting. They call it the "Shi'ite crescent," a sphere of influence stretching from Hizballah-controlled southern Lebanon and President Bashar Assad's Alawite regime in Syria, to Iraq and Iran, right up to the border of the Eastern province of Saudi Arabia, a majority-Shi'ite area where most of the country's oil is produced.
But the old Sunni-Shi'ite conflict has been complicated by a new threat in the region: ISIS, a Sunni radical military force vastly more competent and frightening than al-Qaeda. ISIS began in Iraq but made its mark in the rebellion against Assad's government in Syria. Assad isn't well liked by his Sunni neighbors--and some of them, like Qatar and perhaps private sources in Saudi Arabia, gave surreptitious support to ISIS and other Sunni militias in the early days of the rebellion.
The lightning march ISIS made through Iraq last year changed the equation. An ISIS-controlled Iraq would be a threat not only to Iran but also to some of the Sunni royal families in the region, as well as Egypt. The Jordanians--already overwhelmed by refugees from Iraq, Syria and Palestine--are vulnerable. The Saudis, governed by an increasingly feeble gerontocracy--the 90-year-old Abdullah was hospitalized with pneumonia at the start of the new year--are worried too. The Egyptians are fighting ISIS-style terrorists in Sinai and are threatened by Libyan militias, which may also be loosely affiliated with ISIS.
In response, a heterodox alliance has gathered to make war with ISIS. Iranian-backed militias, like Hizballah, are the most ardent fighters in this war, along with the Kurds. But they are now joined by U.S. airpower--as well as pilots from Sunni powers like Saudi Arabia and Jordan.
Another potentially major change in the region: the Israelis, Iranians, Saudis and Egyptians are increasingly concerned about Turkey, which sees the ISIS threat somewhat differently from its neighbors. Turkey has allegedly allowed thousands of militants to cross its border and join ISIS because the group is fighting Assad and militant Kurdish groups like the Kurdistan Workers' Party (PKK), which the Turks see as a permanent threat in the south and east of their country. (Turkey has acknowledged that its border with Syria is porous but has denied accusations that it purposefully allows militants to cross.) "Why aren't you Americans making more of a fuss about Turkey's support for ISIS?" a prominent Egyptian official asked me. "I read a lot more about our humanitarian problems in the American press than I do about the Turks who are allowing terrorists to cross their border and behead Americans."
Of course, the "humanitarian problems" in Egypt are very real, as al-Sisi's forces have led a brutal suppression of the Muslim Brotherhood. But the Egyptians have become sensitive to the point of paranoia about the changing U.S. role in the region. I had dinner in Cairo with a group of prominent leaders. One of them, a banker, asked seriously, "Is it true that there is a secret alliance between Obama and the Muslim Brotherhood to destabilize the existing Sunni governments in the region?"
I started to laugh, but none of the Egyptians at the table were smiling. They didn't buy the banker's conspiracy theory, but they laid out an array of charges, ranging from the (pre-Obama) Iraq invasion to the President's support for the overthrow of former President Hosni Mubarak to the Administration's recent slow walk of military supplies, especially spare parts, to the al-Sisi government. "Doesn't he want us to be fighting ISIS in Sinai?" asked the banker.
The Obama Administration maintains that all al-Sisi has to do is free some political prisoners--especially those who are American and three jailed journalists from al-Jazeera who were accused, implausibly, of joining a terrorist group and broadcasting "false news"--and the military support will flow again. The Administration argues that its overall policy--steering clear of neocolonial adventurism like the 2003 invasion of Iraq and working to bring Iran back into the international community--has been more effective than George W. Bush's neoconservatism. Obama aides also point out that there are two U.S. naval fleets in the region, plus U.S. bases in Qatar, Abu Dhabi and Djibouti. "Does that sound like disengagement?" one of them asked me. "We're not going anywhere."
From Washington, the region seems a jigsaw puzzle ruled by anarchic moving pieces--a disproportionate source of concern that leaches attention from growing problems in Russia and East Asia. From Cairo and Riyadh and Jerusalem, though, the U.S. seems a fickle ally that can't decide whether its policy is to support stability or the naive hope for democracy in a region that isn't ready for it.
The modern Middle East was stabilized, in a toxic but effective way, by the Cold War, when partnership with superpowers provided security and economic aid. In the 21st century, the USSR is gone and the U.S. no longer has the incentive, or the money, to lavish vast aid packages on local clients. But the nations of the Middle East have been unable to wean themselves from their dependency on outside forces. "Whenever we're in trouble we dial 911," an Arab diplomat told me. "But it is illogical to think the U.S. was created to protect the Sunnis."
With few other options, the Arabs have returned to an old idea, which was mostly bluster in the past--that they must unite to protect themselves. And any serious conversation about security and economic development has to include the one nation in the region that has succeeded at both: Israel. There is no love for the Israelis, but there is respect. And so there is a hope--a conversation that is occurring across the Arab states--that perhaps the only alternative is to bank on the regional forces of stability to create a security alliance against the extremist threat of both Shi'ite and Sunni militias. Even if that means partnering with Israel.
Is such an alliance even vaguely possible? History says no, vehemently. But in the days before Netanyahu's government collapsed in December, Israeli intelligence sources--usually the most skeptical people in the country--were allowing tiny shreds of hope to creep into their calculations. The common security interests with the Arabs were compelling, several of them told me, and might lead to new arrangements in the region. It was not impossible that the Arabs could help broker a peace deal with the Palestinians. The Egyptians could help provide security; the Saudis and Gulf states could provide funds for Palestinian economic development.
For that to happen, though, Israel would need to make changes of its own. "These governments can't be seen to be cooperating with Israel as long as there isn't a deal with the Palestinians," said one intelligence expert, who spoke on the condition of anonymity. "ISIS can turn the Arab street, especially their young people, against them. It's bad enough that [the U.S.] is dropping bombs on Sunnis in Iraq and Syria. That strengthens [ISIS] on the street as well."
At the heart of this conundrum stands Benjamin Netanyahu. The Israeli Prime Minister may have been selling an alliance with the Arabs in New York, but he's been selling intransigence back home. That includes a new law that would make Israel a "Jewish" state--with the implication of second-class citizenship for its 1.7 million Arab citizens. His insistence on pushing that law resulted in the collapse of his government, as moderate parties led by Tzipi Livni and Yair Lapid refused to support the legislation.
Netanyahu is no longer very popular in Israel, but no one is betting against him in the March election. Given his political skills, the absence of a charismatic mainstream challenger and the steady tattoo of terrorist incidents--stabbings, shootings, cars running over pedestrians--most observers assume that Netanyahu will prevail somehow, though he might even struggle to maintain control of his Likud Party. The rising tide seems to be with the settler-movement leader Naftali Bennett, whose party might well outpoll Likud in March. It is also possible that the moderate-liberal coalition of the Labor Party and the splinter party of Livni's supporters will challenge Likud for first place in the March election and the right to attempt to form a government of its own.
The real negotiations begin after the election. Netanyahu will try again to cobble together a centrist coalition. The big question is whether he will have to include Bennett in a government; if so, there will be no hope of Israel's negotiating a deal with the Palestinians--and no hope of closer public ties with its Sunni Arab neighbors.
But there are other possibilities as well. If Labor-Livni polls strongly and is joined by Lapid's centrist party, they may find a partner in Avigdor Lieberman. The Foreign Minister and leader of the Israel Beitenu party ran a crass, anti-Arab campaign last time. "But Lieberman plays a different game inside the government than he does outside," says Shai Feldman, director of Brandeis University's Crown Center for Middle East Studies. "As Foreign Minister, he's had to deal with the leaders of other countries. He's more of a realist now." But he's also less of a political force, as recent polls show support for his party waning dramatically because of renewed corruption charges against Lieberman. "It is absolutely impossible to predict how this election is going to turn out," Feldman says.
The New Generation
Netanyahu has been at the center of Israeli politics for nearly 25 years. Abbas has been a force in Palestinian politics even longer. But a new generation of leaders is rising, which is why the Lieberman-Dahlan meeting in Paris was noteworthy, at the very least. One thing the two men have in common, despite their wildly divergent politics, is that both believe the Netanyahu-Abbas era is coming to a close.
Dahlan is perhaps the most skilled of the next generation of Palestinian leaders, although he developed a well-deserved reputation as a thug when he led the Palestinian security services in Gaza. He is a young-looking 53, a protégé of Yasser Arafat's and a native Gazan. He's also the sworn enemy of Abbas, who accused Dahlan of corruption and convicted him in a show trial; Dahlan has been living in Abu Dhabi since 2011. He has already announced that he will run for President of the PA against Abbas--who is supremely unpopular--should Abbas ever call the Palestinian election that has been long delayed. But Dahlan's strategy is more expansive than a one-on-one fight with Abbas. His hope is to create a new coalition that would appeal to people across the Palestinian political spectrum, from Hamas to Fatah.
How could he manage that? By forming an alliance with a Palestinian leader currently sitting in an Israeli prison. Marwan Barghouti, 55, is considered a folk hero by both Hamas and Fatah. He was a prominent leader of the first and second intifadehs before he was arrested by the Israelis in 2002 and sentenced to five continuous life terms for murder. Barghouti's wife has already announced her support for a movement to draft him for President. Dahlan's vision is that Barghouti would be the titular head of the PA from inside prison and Dahlan himself would be the hands-on guy, running the show from Ramallah, while former Palestinian Prime Minister Salam Fayyad, widely considered Palestine's most effective bureaucrat, would administer the West Bank.
Netanyahu has long lamented the fact that he doesn't have a "strong" partner on the Palestinian side. Abbas has never had the support among his people to cut a deal, and his predecessor Arafat had little desire to do so. But a government led by Barghouti or Dahlan could hardly be considered weak, and a Barghouti-Dahlan coalition would be formidable. The question of what to do with Barghouti--whether to release him or not--has been discussed by Netanyahu's inner circle. At this point, Barghouti's political views are a mystery; he has been described as "Mandela-esque" and utterly unrepentant.
Dahlan has been meeting with Arab leaders across the region. He is close to Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan, the crown prince of Abu Dhabi, and also to Egypt's al-Sisi. His aspirations parallel Netanyahu's: that the Arab states could be brought into the talks as intermediaries. Dahlan hopes the Arabs will nudge the Israelis to make concessions; Netanyahu hopes that the Arabs will nudge the Palestinians to make concessions. But the bottom line is the same: visions of commercial cooperation that transforms ports in Gaza and Haifa into Middle Eastern Singapores; visions of a security alliance strong enough to fend off Islamic radicalism, both Shi'ite and Sunni.
The only thing preventing all this is what usually gets in the way in the Middle East--reality. Here is what might also happen in 2015: Israel might elect a right-wing government that wants nothing to do with the Arabs. The West Bank may fall into chaos as the PA struggles without the funds necessary to keep its security forces in operation. The U.S. might make a nuclear deal with Iran, with unforeseen consequences for the region. The U.S. might not make a nuclear deal with Iran, with unforeseen consequences for the region. King Abdullah might pass away in Saudi Arabia. The moderate Jordanian government might be overwhelmed by the tide of Syrian, Iraqi and Palestinian refugees. Bashar Assad might fall, or survive, with consequences for the Kurds, the Turks and the Lebanese. Libyan militias might find common cause with ISIS. The rickety new government in Iraq might collapse.
Any of these events is more likely to occur than a peace deal between the Israelis and Palestinians, brokered by the Arabs. But the fact that the conversation is taking place--between Prince Turki and Amos Yadlin, between Mohammed Dahlan and Avigdor Lieberman, secretly at the U.N. and in capitals across the region--means that peace, the most unlikely Middle East result, is no longer off the table.