risis and fear create interesting bedfellows. In April of this year Israel struck Iran’s consulate in Syria, killing at least two generals and five other Iranian officers. The attack was part of Israel’s broader campaign against the backers of Hamas, which was responsible for the 7 October massacre across the Gaza border. Tehran, unsurprisingly, vowed a response, a response which came two weeks later. Two weeks later, in a highly signaled and much–anticipated operation, Iran launched over 300 projectiles at Israel, including 170 drones and 120 ballistic missiles.
Iran’s retaliatory operation was, however, entirely ineffective. A coalition of overt and covert partners including the United States, United Kingdom, France, as well as Jordan and Saudi Arabia, intercepted nearly all of Iran’s munitions (and a fair number failed on launch). The tensions around this incident could not be higher. Fears of a broader conflagration were on everyone’s mind. Yet, the worst fears—at least as of this writing—did not materialize. Israel’s recent assassination of Hamas’ political leader, Ismail Haniyeh, in Iran could, however, tip the scales into more open hostilities.
The incident is evocative of the title of Michael Horowitz’s “Hope and Despair.” Hope, in that there are potentially alternative pathways for the conflict in the Middle East. Despair, in that the line between war and peace, or indeed “quiet”—merely the temporary absence of conflict—as Horowitz writes, is painfully thin. Few books, and indeed few subject matters, so fully embody their titles as does “Hope and Despair.”
Writing a balanced and nuanced account of the Israeli–Palestinian situation and the dynamics of the broader Middle East is a challenging endeavor. It is an understatement to say these are charged and emotional subjects. Yet Horowitz manages to do so, writing an insightful and well–rounded account of Israel’s place in the region and amidst geopolitical and domestic turbulence.
The resolution of the tit–for–tat over Israel’s Syria strike owes as much to the behavior of the parties involved as it does anything else. Iran telegraphed its attack very vocally and openly. The allies knew it was coming, and due—allegedly—to Saudi Arabian intelligence, knew what was to take place. Even with the poor performance of its drones and missiles, Tehran considered the matter settled, its signal sent. Shared fears of escalation drove cooperation and coordination—elements of hope. It could, however, have gone very differently. It is, anecdotally, unclear whether the coalition would have been materially able to intercept a follow–on operation. Had a part of the attack succeeded and led to serious loss of Israeli life, could the government in Jerusalem have restrained itself from retaliating in kind?
Throughout Horowitz’s book, tension is a recurring theme. The tumult of the Arab Spring gave way to an Arab Winter. The hopes of the former were supplanted by the despair of the latter. The emergence of the American–led Abraham Accords, the rapprochement between Israel and Bahrain, the UAE, Morocco, and Sudan gave cause for hope and optimism. Indeed, the long–hoped–for normalization of ties between Israel and its Middle Eastern neighbors appeared to be underway.
As Horowitz writes, the expectations—the hope generated by the accords—in many ways went unmet, and may have been a product of the moment. The presidency of Donald Trump, fears of Iran, and a myriad of other factors helped drive the process forward, a process that slowed sharply with the election of President Joseph Biden. The hoped for and expected deepening of economic ties has not manifested.
For its part, Israel’s domestic politics remain unstable. Amidst the internal politicking and coalitional infighting, the State of Israel faces an identity crisis. The ultra–Orthodox population is increasingly disconnected from the future of the state and Arab Israelis represent a growing share of the country’s populace.
Within the greater Middle East, the prospects for progress are perhaps greater, the room for hope larger, albeit in small ways. Raw power calculus and naked geo–strategic and geo–economic self–interest can serve as a powerful driver. Indeed, the progress thus far is more a function of these realities than any shift within the Gulf States’ respective Overton windows. The open secret within the Middle East is that Israel’s intelligence services have maintained relations with their Arab counterparts.
There is, however, a limit to this rapprochement. The monarchies of the Gulf may have greater control over that which takes place within their kingdoms, but they are still beholden to the population (albeit in a decidedly undemocratic fashion). As evidenced by the response to Israel’s Gaza operations, tacit acquiescence can only go so far.
The geopolitical tinder remains, albeit unlit for the moment. The risks of escalation and retaliation very much remain, especially following Israel’s assassination of Haniyeh in Tehran. Syria is a source of instability and Hezbollah in Lebanon could easily and with great violence reignite hostilities in the north of the country. Iran may have backed down from further escalation after Tehran’s missile attack in April, but the potential for renewed conflict by proxy is very much present. The risks of a nuclear breakout by Tehran and how Israel may respond add further complexity to this rather complex geopolitical picture.
Perhaps the only clear area where there is naught but despair is the prospect for resolving the Palestinian situation. Within this crisis, there exists no shared lexicon, not shared agreement on which to build a future. Both Israelis and Palestinians view their respective claims as right and true, and their counterparts false and hollow. The moderate middle, on which progress must be built, is crowded out by the vocal and violent extremes. The leadership of each is absolutist and there can be no peace, no progress when everything is zero–sum. Both are right. Both are wrong. There is only moral relativism, no moral equivalence.
The next generations of Israelis and Palestinians are so far removed from the optimism of the Oslo Accords, Camp David, or any other initiatives aimed at achieving peace. The Abraham Accords within the Middle East have yielded little in practice. Perhaps more than anything, the region is defined by one step forward, two back, and several laterally.
With Gaza, Israel had largely settled for ‘quiet,’ temporary lulls in periodic violence, especially after the unilateral withdrawal in 2006 under the late prime minister, Ariel Sharon. That is, of course, until the events of 7 October. Even prior to that event, the prospects for peace and reconciliation appeared exceptionally thin. There is little cause for optimism today. Israel’s ongoing operations in Gaza have almost certainly degraded Hamas and its capacity to wage hostilities, but at considerable humanitarian and infrastructure costs.
What comes after Israel’s operations end remains uncertain. Will Israel assume the tasks of reconstruction and rehabilitation? Will Jerusalem undertake what is assuredly a horrendously expensive and generational counterinsurgency campaign? Will Israel have achieved only a temporary reprieve from Hamas’ violence only to sow the seeds of longer–term and more intense hostilities?
The situation In the West Bank is not much better. The Palestinian Authority has become sclerotic and ineffective, becoming corrupt and idle. It is an ineffective interlocutor with the Israelis and holds little credibility with the Palestinian people. Its security forces are unable (and in some cases absent, taking jobs in Israel) to effect control within the territory, with crime and weapons smuggling becoming endemic.
Have the Middle Eastern states given up on the Palestinians? Are they suffering from ‘Palestinian fatigue?’ At the elite level, perhaps. The monarchies of the Gulf have invested much but gained little from supporting the Palestinian cause. As a tool of popular mobilization, it remains useful, and while the royal families may have moved on, the Arab Street remains invested in the cause as surveys have shown.
Horowitz writes with an underlying hope; he wants to leave Israel and indeed the reader, looking toward the future not with a sense of fatalism, but of optimism. It is a noble effort, but one that is left unaccomplished due to no fault of his own. The conditions necessary for true progress are absent and the incentives for rapprochement and reconciliation too few. . What little hope does exist is too often and too quickly supplanted by fatalistic despair. Indeed, the region could well be heading toward another cycle of violence, the consequences of which for the Middle East and the world more broadly would be disastrous.
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Israel’s challenging navigation of turbulent geopolitical waters
A old tank in the Golan Heights. Photo by Levi Meir Clancy on Unsplash.
August 3, 2024
The geopolitical tinder of the Middle East is still unlit for the moment. But the risks of escalation and retaliation very much remain, despite the ‘hope’ that infuses Michael A. Horowitz’s new book, writes Joshua Huminski.
C
risis and fear create interesting bedfellows. In April of this year Israel struck Iran’s consulate in Syria, killing at least two generals and five other Iranian officers. The attack was part of Israel’s broader campaign against the backers of Hamas, which was responsible for the 7 October massacre across the Gaza border. Tehran, unsurprisingly, vowed a response, a response which came two weeks later. Two weeks later, in a highly signaled and much–anticipated operation, Iran launched over 300 projectiles at Israel, including 170 drones and 120 ballistic missiles.
Iran’s retaliatory operation was, however, entirely ineffective. A coalition of overt and covert partners including the United States, United Kingdom, France, as well as Jordan and Saudi Arabia, intercepted nearly all of Iran’s munitions (and a fair number failed on launch). The tensions around this incident could not be higher. Fears of a broader conflagration were on everyone’s mind. Yet, the worst fears—at least as of this writing—did not materialize. Israel’s recent assassination of Hamas’ political leader, Ismail Haniyeh, in Iran could, however, tip the scales into more open hostilities.
The incident is evocative of the title of Michael Horowitz’s “Hope and Despair.” Hope, in that there are potentially alternative pathways for the conflict in the Middle East. Despair, in that the line between war and peace, or indeed “quiet”—merely the temporary absence of conflict—as Horowitz writes, is painfully thin. Few books, and indeed few subject matters, so fully embody their titles as does “Hope and Despair.”
Writing a balanced and nuanced account of the Israeli–Palestinian situation and the dynamics of the broader Middle East is a challenging endeavor. It is an understatement to say these are charged and emotional subjects. Yet Horowitz manages to do so, writing an insightful and well–rounded account of Israel’s place in the region and amidst geopolitical and domestic turbulence.
The resolution of the tit–for–tat over Israel’s Syria strike owes as much to the behavior of the parties involved as it does anything else. Iran telegraphed its attack very vocally and openly. The allies knew it was coming, and due—allegedly—to Saudi Arabian intelligence, knew what was to take place. Even with the poor performance of its drones and missiles, Tehran considered the matter settled, its signal sent. Shared fears of escalation drove cooperation and coordination—elements of hope. It could, however, have gone very differently. It is, anecdotally, unclear whether the coalition would have been materially able to intercept a follow–on operation. Had a part of the attack succeeded and led to serious loss of Israeli life, could the government in Jerusalem have restrained itself from retaliating in kind?
Throughout Horowitz’s book, tension is a recurring theme. The tumult of the Arab Spring gave way to an Arab Winter. The hopes of the former were supplanted by the despair of the latter. The emergence of the American–led Abraham Accords, the rapprochement between Israel and Bahrain, the UAE, Morocco, and Sudan gave cause for hope and optimism. Indeed, the long–hoped–for normalization of ties between Israel and its Middle Eastern neighbors appeared to be underway.
As Horowitz writes, the expectations—the hope generated by the accords—in many ways went unmet, and may have been a product of the moment. The presidency of Donald Trump, fears of Iran, and a myriad of other factors helped drive the process forward, a process that slowed sharply with the election of President Joseph Biden. The hoped for and expected deepening of economic ties has not manifested.
For its part, Israel’s domestic politics remain unstable. Amidst the internal politicking and coalitional infighting, the State of Israel faces an identity crisis. The ultra–Orthodox population is increasingly disconnected from the future of the state and Arab Israelis represent a growing share of the country’s populace.
Within the greater Middle East, the prospects for progress are perhaps greater, the room for hope larger, albeit in small ways. Raw power calculus and naked geo–strategic and geo–economic self–interest can serve as a powerful driver. Indeed, the progress thus far is more a function of these realities than any shift within the Gulf States’ respective Overton windows. The open secret within the Middle East is that Israel’s intelligence services have maintained relations with their Arab counterparts.
There is, however, a limit to this rapprochement. The monarchies of the Gulf may have greater control over that which takes place within their kingdoms, but they are still beholden to the population (albeit in a decidedly undemocratic fashion). As evidenced by the response to Israel’s Gaza operations, tacit acquiescence can only go so far.
The geopolitical tinder remains, albeit unlit for the moment. The risks of escalation and retaliation very much remain, especially following Israel’s assassination of Haniyeh in Tehran. Syria is a source of instability and Hezbollah in Lebanon could easily and with great violence reignite hostilities in the north of the country. Iran may have backed down from further escalation after Tehran’s missile attack in April, but the potential for renewed conflict by proxy is very much present. The risks of a nuclear breakout by Tehran and how Israel may respond add further complexity to this rather complex geopolitical picture.
Perhaps the only clear area where there is naught but despair is the prospect for resolving the Palestinian situation. Within this crisis, there exists no shared lexicon, not shared agreement on which to build a future. Both Israelis and Palestinians view their respective claims as right and true, and their counterparts false and hollow. The moderate middle, on which progress must be built, is crowded out by the vocal and violent extremes. The leadership of each is absolutist and there can be no peace, no progress when everything is zero–sum. Both are right. Both are wrong. There is only moral relativism, no moral equivalence.
The next generations of Israelis and Palestinians are so far removed from the optimism of the Oslo Accords, Camp David, or any other initiatives aimed at achieving peace. The Abraham Accords within the Middle East have yielded little in practice. Perhaps more than anything, the region is defined by one step forward, two back, and several laterally.
With Gaza, Israel had largely settled for ‘quiet,’ temporary lulls in periodic violence, especially after the unilateral withdrawal in 2006 under the late prime minister, Ariel Sharon. That is, of course, until the events of 7 October. Even prior to that event, the prospects for peace and reconciliation appeared exceptionally thin. There is little cause for optimism today. Israel’s ongoing operations in Gaza have almost certainly degraded Hamas and its capacity to wage hostilities, but at considerable humanitarian and infrastructure costs.
What comes after Israel’s operations end remains uncertain. Will Israel assume the tasks of reconstruction and rehabilitation? Will Jerusalem undertake what is assuredly a horrendously expensive and generational counterinsurgency campaign? Will Israel have achieved only a temporary reprieve from Hamas’ violence only to sow the seeds of longer–term and more intense hostilities?
The situation In the West Bank is not much better. The Palestinian Authority has become sclerotic and ineffective, becoming corrupt and idle. It is an ineffective interlocutor with the Israelis and holds little credibility with the Palestinian people. Its security forces are unable (and in some cases absent, taking jobs in Israel) to effect control within the territory, with crime and weapons smuggling becoming endemic.
Have the Middle Eastern states given up on the Palestinians? Are they suffering from ‘Palestinian fatigue?’ At the elite level, perhaps. The monarchies of the Gulf have invested much but gained little from supporting the Palestinian cause. As a tool of popular mobilization, it remains useful, and while the royal families may have moved on, the Arab Street remains invested in the cause as surveys have shown.
Horowitz writes with an underlying hope; he wants to leave Israel and indeed the reader, looking toward the future not with a sense of fatalism, but of optimism. It is a noble effort, but one that is left unaccomplished due to no fault of his own. The conditions necessary for true progress are absent and the incentives for rapprochement and reconciliation too few. . What little hope does exist is too often and too quickly supplanted by fatalistic despair. Indeed, the region could well be heading toward another cycle of violence, the consequences of which for the Middle East and the world more broadly would be disastrous.
