Muddle in the Middle East

Curled up in the Study, I was totally engrossed in Stieg Larsson's magnificent Millenium trilogy and the adventures of Lisbeth Salander when I noticed my butler and minder Irving hovering at the door. (He knows when not to disturb me, so whatever this was, it was likely to be of some importance.) I looked up, annoyed.

"Well," I said. "This has better be --"

"Oh, it is. He's on the secure line. Asking for Ernestine. Irving handed me the phone.

"It's me," said a voice.

"Well who else would it be, Sir Harry? No one else has the number or knows the code name Ernestine. Slipping a bit, aren't you? And you are being inconvenient. Did you know that in Stieg Larsson's novels he is actually naming names? And peeling a number of dangerous Swedish onions? I am really beginning to think that his heart attack might have been --"

"Forget that. It's being looked into. Now, as per our agreement, I need an analysis of that Israeli cock-up in the Mediterranean, the Gaza Flotilla thing. Causing no end of trouble."

"I'll get on it." (I really had no choice after receiving a British diplomatic passport from Sir Harry. Just zip through airports, I do.)

"And with speed, Ernestine, with speed."

"Oh, all right." I cut the connection. and told Irving that now would be a good time for cocktails, and that I would appreciate any input he might have. He was, after all, ex-Mossad.

Later in the evening, I had done about all I could do short of interrogating all the players in a small room equipped with certain devices that 24's Jack Bauer would get all excited about. Not possible, of course, but I did the best I could.

I prefaced the report with an anecdote to illustrate the difficulty of any easy answers.

A Canadian was at a Muskoka beach one day, and spotted a weird looking bottle nestled among some rocks. Sitting down on an outcrop, he held it to the sun, and wondered what it had contained. He gave it a rub. Lo and behold a cloud emerged from the top, and a genie emerged.

"No shit!" said the Canadian. "Does this mean I get three wishes?"

"It does," replied the genie. "What is your first?"

"A beer would be nice. Dos Equos if you have it."

"I do." A bottle materialized in the Canadian's hand. "Your second wish?"

The Canadian was now giving this whole thing some deep thought. "A beautiful girl would be nice...."

Immediately a drop dead gorgeous blonde appeared beside him, looking ravishing in Dior, and murmured, "I think I can make you very happy."

The Canadian did not doubt this for a minute, but now was afflicted with a sense of guilt. (This happens a lot to Canadians.) "Well," he said to the genie, "So far I've just thought about myself. What about, say, peace in the Middle East?"

A large map of the Middle East suddenly appeared, and the genie studied it for some time. Finally he said sadly, "Your request is too difficult. But I can, however, grant you another wish."

"Oh," said the Canadian. "Very well then. How about that this year the Toronto Maple Leafs win the Stanley Cup?"

The genie thought for a long time, then said, "Let me see that map again."

All of which goes to show that the Middle East is a difficult nut to crack, and Israel is smack in the middle. The interrupted flotilla apparently was transporting sincere activists who were trying to better the position of Gaza citizens, but also a goodly amount of military hardware and people prepared to use it. This Israel would not allow, although the country had to be aware that in the court of world opinion, Israel is always presumed guilty and then is found guilty.

Irving and I hashed this out for some time. In his opinion, and I concurred, Israel desperately need a coalition of the Likud, Kadima and Labor parties, while marginalizing the radical, fringe groups who are only there because the Constitution says they must be. The three leaders in Irving's opinion have the competence that would enable Israel to regain its earlier, well-regarded standing in the world. As Irving put it, "When he was young, we loved him."

So my report to Sir Harry urged him (and any others he could co-opt) to pressure Netanyahu, Tzipi Livni and Simon Peres to, as the Nike ad goes, JUST DO IT. Go back to the 1967 borders, withdraw from those idiotic settlements, and duck under the covers with Saudi Arabia and Egypt. Won't solve it all -- reasonable, non-violent solutions are not what religious fanatics want, although such solutions do terrify them -- but it is taking a sad song, and making it a little better.

Right, Jude?