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by Benny Morris
06.22.2010
Efraim Karsh, Palestine Betrayed (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2010),
336 pp., $32.50.
EFRAIM KARSH’S title is, of course, ironic. For close on a century, Palestinians
and other Arabs have accused Britain of “betraying the Arabs” and, particularly,
the Arabs of Palestine. In the wake of World War I, the British (“Perfidious
Albion”), so the charge went, failed to uphold their wartime promises to Hussein
ibn Ali, the sharif of Mecca and leader of the anti-Ottoman revolt in Hijaz,
regarding Arab self-determination and independence. More specifically,
according to this interpretation, in a letter from October 1915, Britain promised
Palestine to the Arabs—and then went ahead and gave it, in the Balfour
Declaration of 1917, to the Jews. The British went on to conquer Palestine and in
1920, to establish a mandatory government that promoted and protected the
Zionist enterprise and suppressed Palestinian Arab nationalism, thus paving the
way for the coup de grâce of the 1948 Arab-Israeli War, when the Jews trounced
the Palestinians and established Israel over 78 percent of Palestine’s landmass,
and the Jordanians, with British encouragement, took over almost all the rest
(the West Bank).
Now, instead of merely taking to task this or that New Historian, Karsh has put
together a “history” of his own which, by the way, serves also as a full-throated
rebuttal of the Israeli New Historiography of the late 1980s, which tried to show
that the Middle East conflict wasn’t a simple struggle between good (Zionists)
and evil (Arabs), and that the Zionists and Israel also had a share in bringing
about the tragedy of 1948 and the events on either side of that revolutionary year.
Prominent among the objects of Karsh’s attacks—let me put the cards on the
table, face up—are Avi Shlaim, an Iraqi-born British historian from Oxford
University; the explicitly anti-Zionist Ilan Pappé, formerly of Haifa University
and now a teacher at Exeter University; and, of course, yours truly.
In Palestine Betrayed, Karsh takes his readers back to a pure Manichaean view of
the past, but this time with extensive endnotes. Karsh marshals a vast panoply,
which refers the reader to documentation in Israeli, British and American
archives. (Occasionally, he culls also from Arab memoirs and newspapers.) Many
readers, I fear, will feel stifled by the sheer weight of dusty memoranda and
correspondence, if only because each of Karsh’s endnotes, with few exceptions,
refers to anywhere between five and twenty particular documents. This
uncustomary method of piling up the references usually obviates any possibility
of identifying the source of any specific quotation carried in the text. Which is
very annoying.
But most historians probably won’t bother to work out these interminable
referential puzzles if only because they will have been put off, long before, by the
palpable one-sidedness of Karsh’s narrative. All too often it gives off the smell of
shop-soiled propaganda. And, let me quickly note, I say this despite the fact that I
am in almost complete agreement with Karsh’s political conclusions (which in
some way emerge naturally and, I feel, irrefutably from the history) and in some
measure with his history as well.
FIRST, TO the political implications. Put simply, Karsh argues that throughout
its existence, from (the anti-Semitic) Haj Amin al-Husseini through (the devious)
Yasser Arafat to (the forthright and murderous) Hamas and (the seemingly
benign) Mahmoud Abbas, the Palestinian national movement has rejected every
offered compromise with Zionism and has demanded all of Palestine as its
patrimony—and consistently rejected partition and a two-state solution, at base
denying the legitimacy of Zionism. This, unfortunately, remains the outlook of
the Palestinian leadership today, as its minor branch, the Palestinian Authority or
Palestine Liberation Organization (which, let’s recall, lost the general elections in
the West Bank and Gaza Strip to Hamas back in 2006), enters yet another
duplicitous round of negotiations with Israel and the United States.
Moreover, the Palestinians were almost consistently supported in their
rejectionism by the rulers of the surrounding Arab states. Even today, the leaders
of Egypt and Jordan, which signed peace treaties with Israel in 1979 and 1994
respectively, have maintained a “cold” nonbelligerency with the Jewish state and
continue to support the “right of return” of the Palestinian refugees. If
implemented, such a refugee return would result in short order in Israel’s demise,
as President Mubarak of Egypt and King Abdullah II of Jordan surely must
realize.
NOW, TO Karsh’s history. In all such works, much depends on the historian’s
selection of documents and on his judgments about where the burden of proof
lies. It is in these that Karsh fails, and fails dismally.
This is what Karsh tells his readers: The Arabs of Palestine were enamored with
the Zionist settlers and appreciated their economic beneficence—but fanatical or
jealous or competitive educated Arabs, clerics, Ottoman officials, urban notables
incited them to resist the Zionist influx, which they wrongly depicted as
minatory. Later, during the Palestine Mandate, British officials struggled against
the Zionist aim of Jewish statehood and pumped up Palestinian nationalism. In
1948, most Palestinians, just as their leaders launched a war of extermination
against the Jewish community in Palestine/Israel, continued to ignore the call of
the extremists. (Indeed, Karsh writes, quoting the Palestine Post, “Arabs joined
in [Jewish] celebrations [of the UN partition vote of November 29, 1947]”—but is
this really representative of how the Arabs greeted the partition vote?) But in the
end, the masses were sucked into the cycle of belligerency. And the Arabs’ war
was supported by the British. What’s more—and this is really the focus of the
book—the Palestinian refugee problem was created mainly by the Palestinian
leaders themselves and by Arab officials who called on the Palestinians to
evacuate their homes; Israeli expulsions, and Karsh concedes grudgingly that
there were a few, had only a marginal effect. Indeed, according to Karsh, up until
May 1948—and even beyond—the Zionist leaders continuously pleaded with the
Palestinians to stay put and enjoy life in the emergent, democratic, egalitarian
State of Israel. Lastly, Karsh argues, at war’s end the Israelis did all they could to
achieve peace, offering concession after concession; they even favored the
establishment of a separate Palestinian Arab state. But the Arab leaders would
have none of it. And of the most peace minded of them, King Abdullah I of
Jordan, Karsh says, “For all his affability, Abdullah was no more accepting of
Jewish national aspirations than any other Arab leader.”
Of course, there’s some truth in all of this; but, to employ an out-of-use British
Mandate word, taken as a whole, it is “tosh.”
THIS LACK of nuance extends to the Arab side as well. The Arab objectives in the
1948 war are not entirely clear given the complete absence of access to the Arab
states’ archives. To be sure, the Palestinians sought to prevent the emergence of a
Jewish state, and the Arab countries would have liked to crush the Jewish state at
inception or at least to badly hurt it. And it is quite possible that had either won
the war, the result would have been a massive slaughter of Jews. But was
“extermination” their war aim, as Karsh would have it? There is no knowing.
Indeed, the Arab leaders going to war in 1948 were very sparing in publicly
describing their goals and “exterminating” the Jews never figured in their public
bombast. I myself in the past have used the one divergent quote, by Arab League
Secretary-General Abdul Rahman Azzam from May 15, 1948, in which he
allegedly spoke of a “war of extermination” and a “momentous massacre” à la the
Mongols. But in my recent history of the war, 1948(Yale University Press, 2008),
I refrained from reusing it after discovering that its pedigree is dubious.
A peek at the relevant endnote indicates that Karsh has based this passage solely
on the memoirs of former–senior Israeli intelligence officer Ezra Danin, A Zionist
Under Any Condition (Kidum, 1987). Karsh adds that the Jewish leaders in the
town of Tiberias later that month “famously pleaded” with the Arabs to stay.
And while there are one or two instances in which second-tier Jewish leaders
actually appealed to the Arabs to stay (most notably Haifa Mayor Shabtai Levy’s
appeal on April 22, 1948), by and large—and with very good reason—the Jews of
Palestine were happy to see their neighbors depart, neighbors who for weeks and
months had been shooting at them.
In fact, from June 1948 onward, Israel’s local and national leaderships were
firmly opposed to a refugee return (in my view, quite rightly; the returnees would
have been a potential or actual fifth column). Karsh’s description of Israel’s
position on this issue is highly misleading and propagandistic. He even quotes
Ben-Gurion as saying in October 1948 “we will not close the door to them”—when
Ben-Gurion is actually on record, time and again during the preceding and
following months, saying flatly that he opposed a refugee return.
For the next five days and nights [i.e., April 11–15, 1948] the two
sides battled over these sites, with the Jews taking them by night
and the Arabs using their numerical and material superiority to
regain them the following day; one stronghold was subjected to
no fewer than eleven consecutive Arab attacks.
Actually, the last five days were characterized by the Haganah simply taking one
Arab village after another. I have no idea what Karsh’s description refers to or is
based on. He ascribes the January 1948 attack on Kibbutz Kfar Szold, on the
border with Syria, to the Arab Liberation Army. Actually, the attack was carried
out by the Arab Fa’ur bedouins.
Karsh tells us that the collapse of the Arab community in Tiberias “triggered”
flight from the neighboring Arab village of “Nasr al-Din.” Actually, it was the
other way around. The Haganah attack and conquest of Khirbet Nasir al-Din on
April 12, 1948, which depopulated the village, helped trigger the flight of
Tiberias’s Arabs six days later.
By “the time of the first truce” (i.e., it began on June 11, 1948), Karsh writes, “only
one Israeli kibbutz (Mishmar Hayarden, near the Sea of Galilee) fell [i.e., had
fallen] to the invading [Arab] forces.” This is a gross piece of ignorance; even
Karsh should know better. The fall of each settlement was a major trauma for
the Yishuv (the Jewish community in Palestine), and Mishmar Hayarden—a
moshav (a cooperative settlement), not a kibbutz (a collective settlement)—was
not alone. A cluster of settlements, most of them kibbutzim, had fallen by then:
the four Etzion-bloc kibbutzim, and Neve Yaakov, Atarot, Kalia and Beit
Ha’arava, all taken by the Jordanian Arab Legion; Masada and Sha’ar Hagolan,
taken by the Syrians; and Yad Mordechai and Nitzanim, taken by the Egyptians.
And it’s not just the blow-by-blow that Karsh gets wrong. He also confuses the
players involved. For instance, he repeatedly calls Israel Galili the Haganah’s
“commander in chief.” He was no such thing. Here is how the hierarchy broke
down: Yaakov Dori was commander in chief, or chief of general staff as it was
called. Yigael Yadin, as head of operations, was his deputy and actually ran the
show for most of 1947–1948 since Dori was often away sick. Above them was
David Ben-Gurion, who held the defense portfolio in the Jewish Agency
Executive, which became the Provisional Government of Israel once the country
became independent. Galili actually held a slot titled “head of the National Staff
of the Haganah,” a political function which meant that he served as Ben-Gurion’s
assistant or deputy.
Why Yale University Press (which printed my last two books) published this title
is beyond me.