Shamir remembered for saying little, standing strong

by | Jul 12, 2012 | Obituaries

WASHINGTON (JTA)—When Yitzhak Shamir was Israel’s prime minister, he liked to point American visitors to a gift he received when he retired as director of the Mossad, Israel’s intelligence service.

It was a depiction of the famed three monkeys: See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

“He didn’t say anything,” recalls Dov Zakheim, then a deputy undersecretary of defense in the Reagan administration. “He just smiled broadly.”

Shamir, who died Saturday, June 30 at 96, had the reputation of a man who said the most when he said nothing at all, his American interlocutors recall. He used that reticence to resist pressure from the George H.W. Bush administration to enter into talks with the Palestinians and other Arab nations.

“He was the most underrated politician of our time,” Zakheim says. “He sat on the fence on issues until the fence hurt.”

Shamir’s willfulness was borne of the conviction that his Likud Party’s skepticism of a permanent peace with the Arabs represented the majority view in Israel, and that the world had to reconcile itself to this outlook, says Steve Rosen, who dealt with Shamir as the foreign policy chief for the American Israel Public Affairs Committee.

“He would argue that the world will never prefer us—the Likud—over Labor, but when the world sees that we are the Israeli majority, they will have to deal with us,” Rosen says. “We will not succeed in being more popular than the others, but we are right.”

There was inevitably a personal element to his clashes with the elder President George Bush, says Zakheim.

“He had his difficulties with the United States in part because he came from such a different place than George H.W. Bush,” he says. “One was a product of old-time Jewish Lithuania whose father was shot in the face by the neighbor when he was looking for protection from the Nazis, the other was an aristocrat. Since most relations at that level are personal, that always complicated matters.”

His detractors, while praising Shamir’s patriotism, also fretted that his steadfastness cost Israel during his terms as prime minister.

Shamir’s most lasting legacy might be his scuttling in 1987 of the London agreement after he assumed the prime ministership from Shimon Peres in a power-sharing agreement following the deadlocked 1984 elections. The agreement, which Peres worked out—mostly in secrecy—with Jordan’s King Hussein would have restored a degree of Jordanian authority to the West Bank and may have spared Israel the first intifada that broke out soon after. The intifada bore the failed Oslo peace process, which bore the much bloodier second intifada, culminating in today’s impasse.

“His shooting down of Shimon Peres’ ‘London Agreement’ with King Hussein of Jordan was arguably the most disastrous decision an Israeli leader ever took,” David Landau wrote in an appreciation in Haaretz.

Yet Shamir was not incapable of pragmatism. He defied Israeli public opinion— and young bucks in his own party, including then deputy foreign minister Benjamin Netanyahu—and acceded to Bush’s request to keep out of the first Iraq War, even if Saddam Hussein provoked Israel, which Hussein did with a barrage of Scud missiles.

Marshall Breger, a former Reagan administration official who at the time still functioned as an unofficial liaison between Bush and the Jewish community, says Shamir earned kudos with that decision.

“From the U.S. perspective that was very important and got a lot of good will because we could not have gotten the coalition that we got if Israel had acted in a proactive or reactive way, if Israel had acted,” he says.

Shamir, notably, earned affectionate references in the memoirs of U.S. figures who were among his most frustrated interlocutors when they faced each other as leaders, among them the elder Bush, national security adviser Brent Scowcroft and Colin Powell, who under Bush was the chief of the military Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Shamir was not a comfortable campaigner. In the 1992 elections he lost to Yitzhak Rabin, advisers told him to exude more warmth. Appearing at a late-in-thegame rally in Maaleh Adumim—a West Bank settlement and city, and what should have been a natural constituency—he stood at the podium, his diminutive figure nearly swallowed by the stage, threw open his arms and shouted “I love you!” The crowd murmured nervously.

Yet one on one, he exuded warmth and determination. Shamir would take constitutional walks around the prime minister’s residence in Rehavia, followed by a single security guard, and stop to chat with everyone, giving extra time to recent immigrants and congratulating them on their decision to move to Israel.

His mantra was land. After Oslo, still serving as a backbencher after Netanyahu had succeeded him as party leader, Shamir decried in a Knesset speech the ceding of the Gaza Strip, citing biblical injunctions about preserving the land of Israel. A Labor backbencher shouted that Gaza is not part of biblical Israel. Shamir shrugged.

“We were taught that territory is sacrosanct,” he said.

“He stood for a set of core principles that are still the bedrock of the right wing but I would argue have influenced the center, too,” Breger says. “Skepticism of the seriousness of the Arabs on permanent peace, a reliance on self-defense and not on agreements that rely on the will of others, skepticism of great power guarantees.”

Shamir the “hard-liner” paved the way for “hard bargainers,” Rosen says.

by Ron Kampeas