The terrorist
attack this week in which four rabbis were murdered at prayer inside a
synagogue in West Jerusalem is the latest installment in a violent spree that
has left 10 Israelis dead over the past month alone, leading some to argue that
what we’re witnessing is the bloody birth of a third Intifada.
It’s possible to
argue otherwise. It’s possible to remember that a similar bubbling of violence
erupted last fall, when two Israeli soldiers were killed in
short succession and many pundits believed that a serious surge of Palestinian
attacks was inevitable. Back then, it took no more than a few weeks for the
hostilities to die down. This time, it’s different. The current spate of
murders, it seems, may be the opening salvo in Mahmoud Abbas’ war—the
Palestine leader’s attempt to re-define his legacy after a decade of public
corruption and dissatisfaction, his failure to make peace with Israel, and
the loss of Gaza to Hamas.
When it comes to
Abbas’ culpability, current opinions in Israel seem mixed. Prime Minister
Benjamin Netanyahu, alongside several other senior security officials, has
clearly laid the blame on the Palestinian president, while the head of the Shin
Bet, Yoram Cohen, hasargued that
Abbas is only culpable inasmuch as his followers choose to interpret his
speeches as an invitation to violence, but he bears no direct responsibility
for the murders. It’s a discussion worth having—healthy democracies foster
precisely this sort of dissent among its top officials—but even as we observe
events unfold in real time we ought to look to history for clues as to
their meaning.
Unlike
traditional wars, which are fought by standing armies with clearly delineated
lines of command, surges of terror come into being in more amorphous ways. The
first Intifada, for example, caught the PLO’s senior leadership off guard but
nonetheless soon became a mighty instrument of violence. To call this recent
spate of murders “a leaderless revolt,” as somechronically inept
publications have, is
to miss the nature of the dangerous and duplicitous game Palestinian leaders
have been playing for at least two decades now.
Credit the late
Yasser Arafat for this two-handed tactic: Fan the flames of popular rage on the
one hand, and on the other position yourself as the sole guarantor of calm and
quiet, the lesser of all available evils, and the last, best hope for peace.
This is what Abbas is doing now:vowing that
he doesn’t want another Intifada while presiding over a torrent of incitement
designed to keep passions at just the boiling point. One recent rant, broadcast 19 times
in three days recently on the state-controlled PA TV station, serves as a good
introduction to the Rais’ general mindset: In it, Abbas calls for religious
conflict in the Al-Aqsa mosque and urges his followers to prevent the Jews, “in
any way whatsoever,” from entering the sacred space. This is not just a
hothead’s attempt at playing hardball: By saying that he wished to prevent the
Jews from “contaminating”
the Temple Mount, Abbas, the author of a Holocaust-denying
doctoral dissertation, is purposefully using the language of
ancient religious hatreds to spark new ones.
Here, too, Abbas is nothing more than a
mediocre student of Arafat’s playbook: The second Intifada was launched when
Arafat, using Ariel Sharon’s visit to the Temple Mount as an excuse, unleashed
a torrent of religious frenzy centered on the Temple Mount, sounding much like
Abbas sounds now.
It worked well enough the first time
around, but that was before ISIS and the war in Syria and the rest of the crest
of instability and intolerance and killing that has washed over almost every
Arab nation. Now it’s no longer enough to speak of peace while fanning
violence. The bad old tricks no longer apply.
But Abbas may
have his way still: As he continues to shout about the need to defend the holy
site—his Minister of Religious Affairs Mahmoud al-Habbash, recently called on all governments to help defend
Jerusalem and protect its Christian-Muslim identity from the Jewish
usurpers—more and more Israelis are asking themselves why they should continue
to put up with the Waqf, the Islamic trust that has controlled Al Aqsa since
the 10th century and that Israel restored to power after its triumph in the
1967 war. The claim that Jews alone should be denied access to the sacred spot
is deeply upsetting, and when it is presented with the shrill notes of
religious warfare it is likely that even moderate Israelis will soon demand
that prayer arrangements on the Temple Mount be changed. That, most likely,
would lead to an all-out explosion of violence, a third Intifada grander and bloodier
than any before.
Which, as all
available clues suggest, is precisely what Abbas wants; his Fatah movement
could hardly have been more clear than it was this morning, posting praise for
the perpetrators of the synagogue massacre on its Facebook page.
Still, Abbas may be bitterly
disappointed. The genocidal beheaders and their cohorts have lowered the
tolerance for religious killing, and once Abbas unleashes hell, he may find
himself, unlike Arafat, the first victim of his own war.
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