Ariel Sharon
and the Messianism of Force
The legacy of a warrior and Prime Minister
By Yehudah Mirsky
In 1983 I attended the founding meeting in Jerusalem of
Netivot Shalom, a Religious Zionist peace movement.
Addressing the assembly, among others, was Rabbi Yehuda
Amital, an extraordinary figure: Holocaust survivor, Haganah veteran, a creator
of the network of hesder yeshivot
which combine study with army service, founder and dean of a major yeshiva in
Gush Etzion, the Plymouth Rock of West Bank settlements. A passionate
theologian, Rabbi Amital had been a leading figure and thinker of the Gush
Emunim settlement movement in its heyday. Now, years later, with the Israeli
Army mired in Lebanon, he concluded that it was time to change course and made
his case with no diminution in passion.
"There are three kinds of false messianism afoot in the
Land of Israel," he said, "Gush Emunim, Peace Now, and Ariel
Sharon."
He continued: "We live in a complex reality and each
proposes a simple answer: Gush Emumin offers faith, Peace Now offers good
intentions, and Ariel Sharon offers force. Not one of them is sufficient. All
three are necessary, each balancing the other in their place and time."
I have, in the last two decades, often thought about Rabbi
Amital's speech, and certainly now, with the eclipse of Ariel Sharon.
Military Man
Ariel Sharon's passing from the political scene elicited
waves of public sentiment and genuine concern that are, for anyone who has
followed the last quarter-century of Israeli politics, nothing short of
astounding. That Arik Sharon, who for decades was perhaps Israel's most
divisive, reviled, and feared political figure (and that's saying something) at
home and abroad--that he of all people should be regarded so tenderly, seems to
prove once again that Israel is the land of miracles, the kind that leave you
scratching your head.
Arik Sharon, the human bulldozer, mushroomed out of some
deep fold of Israeli and Zionist history: Company commander in the 1948 war,
commander of the legendary Unit 101 and thus one of the creator's of Israel's
forward-leaning military ethos, out-and-out hero of the 1973 war, architect of
the megalomaniacal and disastrous Lebanon War--the ruination of a
generation--and the master-builder of Israel's settlements; a fighter seemingly
from birth, he gave no quarter, plunging headlong from one adventure to
another.
Sharon reminds one of Yiftah of the Book of Judges--the
not-entirely-respectable chieftan to whom the timid elders turn to fight their
battles--whose headlong ardor leads him to sacrifice his own daughter. Israel turned
to Sharon most recently, and gave him the Premiership in the midst of a brutal
intifada, which he did crack in the end, with force, force, and more force.
Israel is now more secure than it was when he took office. History will judge
if it could have been safer with fewer dead on both sides.
Building and Dismantling Settlements
Sharon believed to the end in the primacy of force. What
changed, and brought about his stunning withdrawal from Gaza, was his net
assessment of Israel's security threats as primarily demographic and,
secondarily, everything else. Sharon pursued the destruction of the Jewish
presence in Gaza with the same relentlessness with which he had subdued its
Palestinian residents in the late 1960s and built its Jewish settlements in the
decades since.
The settler groups that were glad to follow the National
Bulldozer when it followed their preferred path were horrified to see it
reverse course and bear down on them. Sharon was, in the course of the
disengagement, as dismissive of democratic practice as ever. After announcing
the initiative he simply returned to his ranch, emerging occasionally to reward
his friends and punish his enemies. In the end he executed the task with
lightning speed and breathtaking tactical success and did more to undo the
settlement project than all the leftists in the world.
I Am the State
Sharon's forcefulness was part of his personality, of
course, but it flourished as part of a national ethos. He embodied the
forcefulness of the 1948 Generation, raised on and tied to the land, for whom
the involved ideological debates of their parents--and of their tactical allies
among the settlers--were foreign abstractions. Sharon was and remained a member
of MAPAI, the party created in that Labor Zionist image, devoid of ideological
romance and focused on the practical. Yet Sharon was able to navigate the
post-1977 populist tides that swept MAPAI out to sea.
He gave new meaning to L'etat cest moi (I am the state). One was regularly
left thunderstruck by Sharon's belief in his own righteousness, as evinced in
his lawsuit against Time magazine in
1983 and his willingness to be humbled but not sidelined by the Kahan
Commission that found him indirectly responsible for the massacres at Sabra and
Shatila.
It was unclear if Lebanon taught him anything about the
limits of force as a means of redrawing the map of the Arab world. The Gaza
disengagement showed that he had learned the limits of physical force as an
instrument of controlling the Palestinians. As with Rabin and Barak so too with
him, it was precisely his lack of sentimentality about a "new Middle
East," that made him the likeliest peacemaker around.
Sharon became, at the end, the representative and leader of
Middle Israel, the broad pragmatic center which seeks to leave the
territories--in part on moral grounds, in part out of enlightened
self-interest--and believes, reasonably, that peace is at best a distant
longing, while the most to be hoped for in the near-to-middle term is some
rough coexistence. And if even that is unattainable, we must redraw the borders
of the state to be better prepared, internally and externally, for the
conflicts ahead.
With Sharon's unilateral departure from Gaza, the last of
the three false messianisms ran onto the shoals, leaving Israel to try and find
some workable mixture of force, good intentions and, yes, faith.
Yehudah Mirsky, a former US State Department official,
lives in Jerusalem and is a Fellow at the Van Leer Institute and Harvard.