
Ariel Sharon is figh-ting for his life. He8217;s a man of potent primal urges, of violence, of combat, cunning and brilliant, a sharp manipulator, brave and corrupt. He has swung like a mighty pendulum between construction and destruction, and blatantly ignored limits, whether international boundaries or the boundaries of the law. Clearly, he has seen himself as a man destined to make history, not one who yields to circumstances.
Time after time, Sharon instigated large-scale political and military manoeuvres meant to change the world utterly, to make it fit his own vision. He always did so with determination, sometimes with brutality, without regard for what means he used to achieve his ends.
Even his sworn opponents are concerned today. They are worried about the huge vacuum that has suddenly opened in the Israeli leadership.
Because Sharon, in an amazingly short time, has metamorphosed from being one of the men most hated and feared by most Israelis into a respected leader, accepted and even much loved by his people. He has become a kind of big, powerful father figure whom Israelis are willing to follow, with their eyes closed, to wherever he may lead them. Their faith in him is so great that they do not even demand that he tell them which direction he plans to go, or what his foreign policy will be, or what state of affairs he intends to create for them.
No one, not even the government ministers closest to him, knew Wednesday night 8212; fewer than 90 days before the upcoming elections 8212; whether Sharon intended, after his re-election, to commence peace negotiations with the Palestinians or to conduct another large, unilateral withdrawal in the West Bank. Suspending their right to know, Israelis have preferred to put their future in Sharon8217;s hands, to put aside their personal judgement and their right to information and to criticise their country8217;s policies.
With the huge swell of support the public has given Sharon8217;s new political party, the Israeli majority has said to Sharon: 8220;We trust you to do the right thing, and we don8217;t even want to know the details.8221;
Here are a few events and statements about Sharon that have been etched in the Israeli consciousness. They offer one possible portrayal just one, because his personality is complex enough to allow several. David Ben-Gurion, Israel8217;s legendary first prime minister, said in the 1950s of the young, bold and brilliant officer: 8220;If he could overcome his bad habit of not telling the truth, he could be an exemplary military leader.8221; Menachem Begin, premier in the 1980s, said: 8220;Sharon is liable to surround the prime minister8217;s office with tanks.8221;
In the 8217;50s, when he wielded no little influence on the Israeli army8217;s way of thinking and carrying out its missions, he was an officer in the elite Unit 101. Then he was known for his violent, brutal and extreme treatment of Arabs, both combatants and innocent civilians. His commanders, such as Moshe Dayan, warned him about his disdain for human life, including the lives of his own soldiers. Time after time, his advancement in the military hierarchy was blocked because of reservations and severe criticism of his behavior by his superior officers.
In 1972, as general of the southern command, he conducted a campaign to expel Palestinians from Gaza in order to make room for Israeli settlements. Tens of thousands of Palestinians were cruelly, violently displaced. Their homes were destroyed and their wells filled in. That was the beginning of Sharon8217;s career as the architect and contractor of Israel8217;s settlement enterprise.
It is difficult to imagine how the hundreds of flourishing Israeli settlements in the occupied territories could have been built without his determination, his questionable methods and his ideological fervour. As a politician, he built more and more, making sure to locate them so that they would sever Arab population centers one from the other, and serve as obstacles to any accommodation with the Palestinians.
After the 1973 war in which he commanded the division that crossed the Suez, Sharon entered politics. As a member of the Knesset and as a minister, he opposed the peace treaty with Egypt, virulently opposed the Oslo accords with the Palestinians, even opposed the peace treaty with Jordan. In 1982, when he served as minister of defence, he took advantage of the confidence of his PM, Begin, and entangled Israel in the Lebanon war. Thousands died on both sides, and Israel8217;s forces spent the next 18 years deep in the Lebanese mire.
His conduct during the Lebanon war, and his responsibility for the massacre that Lebanese Christians carried out against Palestinians in the refugee camps of Sabra and Shatila, led an official commission of inquiry to disqualify him from serving as defence minister. His visit to the Temple Mount in 2000, when tension between Israel and the Palestinians was combustible, was the match that set off the bloody Al Aqsa intifada.
But a short time after he was elected prime minister, a change came over him. No one predicted it. At that point in his life, Sharon seems to have reached the conclusion that Israel could not achieve any further territorial or diplomatic gains and that he had to concentrate on securing what the country had achieved so far. We can only presume that, when he viewed events in Israel, he saw that the country appeared to be losing its way, that its people were in despair about the conflict, which seemed to have turned into an endless, low-grade war.
The Geneva initiative 8212; a process of informal negotiations between leading Israelis and Palestinians 8212; produced an alternative, nongovernmental peace plan that pressured Sharon to set out on the most surprising and boldest gambit of his life. He realised that the land had to be partitioned between its two peoples, that the occupation could not continue, that the Palestinians would have their own state and that thousands of Israeli settlers would have to be evacuated from Gaza.
Just as he had done every other time he tried to change the world, he carried out the Gaza disengagement with his signature determination and brutality, with virtuoso political manipulation. He established facts unilaterally, displaying personal and public courage that can only be admired.
What will happen now? Israel is a democracy, but we are witnessing a phenomenon that recalls what happens in totalitarian states when a leader leaves the stage. Sharon8217;s rule was so centralised and total that it seems as if there is no one who can take his place.
The clear will of the majority is to end the conflict with the Palestinians and establish, finally, Israel8217;s permanent borders. Yet the initial impression is that no other Israeli leader would have the political backing to take the difficult and painful steps necessary to reach this goal. Bloodletting was avoided during the evacuation of Gaza in large measure because most Israelis obediently accepted the authority and will of Sharon.
The people saw Sharon as their unchallenged, natural leader, mature, wise. He became a kind of 8220;democratic monarch8221;. Was it his physical presence, his huge farm in the Negev, his profound, connection to the land, his tales of heroism? Something about him said power, confidence and stability. It linked him to Jewish warriors and heroes of past ages. Israelis compared him to Bar-Kochba, to Judah Maccabee. His masses of admirers replaced King David8217;s name with Sharon8217;s nickname in a familiar folk song and sang 8216;8216;Arik, King of Israel8221;.
Israel faces a period of political instability. There is no way of knowing who will be its next leader, but we can lament that we will probably miss, or put off for an uncertain period of time, the great opportunity that Sharon created when he set Israel on the road to the end of the occupation. Even if he did so while completely ignoring the Palestinians, and did nothing to shore up the other side, which must be our partners in peace, we cannot but admire his courage and determination.
For now, we can only mourn the fact that only in their eighth decade do Israeli leaders realise that force is not a solution, that concessions and compromises are necessary, and that we must walk the painful but inevitable road to peace.
David Grossman, an Israeli, is the author of 8216;Death as a Way of Life: Israel Ten Years After Oslo8217; LA Times-Washington Post