Review 22.5
11 April - 24 April, 1997

First in importance come actions, then - particularly in the Middle East - words. And in the face of terrorism, silence too speaks volumes.Three-and-a-half years have passed since Oslo, but Yasser Arafat has consistently failed to condemn terrorism clearly and unequivocally. After the latest atrocity in Tel Aviv, instead of using his status as elected head of the Palestinian Authority to take a strong stand against violence, he ran away again.

Arafat's behaviour contrasts sharply with Yitzhak Rabin's, and with that of King Hussein. In 1994, Rabin did not hide his anger after Baruch Goldstein killed 29 Palestinians in Hebron. He could have excused the murders as the desperate act of a doctor who had seen too many victims of terror die in his hands.

Instead, Rabin told the Israeli public, "I am shamed by the disgrace imposed upon us by a degenerate murderer." In repeated statements, he declared that the "damage inflicted by one person on the State of Israel, on the Jewish people, and on the people of Israel" was immeasurable. He made no attempt to shift the blame. "This is an Israeli responsibility, because we are the government," he declared. Rabin was not alone in his unequivocal condemnation. Benjamin Netanyahu, who headed the Opposition, denounced the "despicable crime" that had violated Jewish and universal values, and could be neither tolerated nor excused. President Weizman declared that "There is no understanding, no forgiveness, and no atonement for this horrible act," while Shimon Peres warned that Israel "will be in grave trouble if we do not mobilise" to fight terrorism and its supporters. "We can have no peace with them, and no accommodation. These people can cause a catastrophe. They are the enemies of the nation."

Two weeks ago, after a Jordanian soldier killed seven Israeli schoolgirls, King Hussein did not hide his anger and shame. In appointing a commission of inquiry, he wrote "I am sure you share with me ... and all members of the honourable Arab army's armed forces the feelings of pain, shock, and shame over the vile crime ... by the bullet of a treacherous coward, who has harmed the noble reputation of our army and its honour." Instead of blaming others, dismissing these murders as the act of a deranged individual, or running away, the Jordanian leader immediately returned from Europe. A few days later, he took the unprecedented step of going to Bet Shemesh to console the victims' families.

Accompanied by two of his children, by members of the government and the Jordanian press, Hussein got down on his knees and declared, "Words cannot express how I personally feel, how my family feels, how my people feel. We consider this a loss that all of us suffered ... I feel that if there is anything in life, it is to ensure that all the children enjoy peace and security. I hope you consider me a brother and a member of the family."

Beyond the immense moral impact, these words and gestures of empathy with the victims helped heal political wounds and restore confidence between Israel and Jordan. If Arafat and other Palestinian leaders were seriously interested in the peace process and in ending the long and painful conflict, wouldn't they have taken a cue from their partners? But instead of taking the high road, Arafat persists in peppering his public speeches with calls for jihad, armed struggle, and praise for terrorist "martyrs" like Yihye Ayash. Arafat's links to continuing terrorism and murder extend to actions like letting terrorists out of Palestinian jails, and meetings and agreements with Hamas leaders. Arafat's ncouragement of terror for political ends, and his failure to take a public stand against violence make a mockery of the peace process.

Israel is asked to take security risks for the sake of peace, to open airports and roads and to allow thousands of Palestinians to work in its cities, without any quid pro quo from Arafat. In the critical dimension of the PLO confronting terrorism, the peace process has yet to begin.