Peace Psychology Book Series Series Editor: Daniel J. Christie Ilai Alon Daniel Bar-Tal Editors The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution The Israeli-Palestinian Case and Beyond Peace Psychology Book Series Series editor Daniel J. Christie, Marion, Ohio, USA The scope of threats to human security at the dawn of the 21st century is daunting. Terrorism, weapons of mass destruction, nuclear proliferation, failed states, ideological struggles, growing resource scarcities, disparities in wealth and health, globalizing trends, violations of human rights, and the continued use of force to advance individual, group and national interests, are all complex problems. At the same time, we are witnessing countervailing trends in the growing recognition and endorsement of nonviolent means of resolving differences, the importance of reconciliation processes in human relations, the promotion of cultures of peace, and the building of societal structures and global institutions that promote peace, human rights and environmental sustainability. During the past 20 years, peace psychology has emerged as a specialty in psychology with its own knowledge base, perspectives, concepts, and preferred methodologies to grapple with threats to human security and seize opportunities to promote human well-being. In regard to the problem of violence, peace psychology scholars and activists place human psychology and its links to other disciplines at the center of their efforts to prevent and mitigate episodes of violence and structural forms of violence. In addition to reducing violence, peace psychologists seek to develop theory and practices that promote relational harmony across levels (from interpersonal relations to global networks) and equitable human well-being. The Peace Psychology Book Series recognizes that the emerging and multi-faceted problems of human security challenge us as scholars and activists to develop psychologically-informed theory that will deepen our understanding of the major threats to human security, and create practices that will help us address some of the most urgent and profound issues that bear on human well being and survival in the 21st century. Series Advisory Board Herbert Blumberg, Goldsmiths College, United Kingdom; Daniel Bar-Tal, Tel Aviv University, Israel; Klaus Boehnke, International University Bremen, Germany; Ed Cairns, University of Ulster, Northern Ireland; Peter Coleman, Columbia University, USA; Cheryl de la Rey, University of Cape Town, South Africa; Anthony Marsella, University of Hawaii, USA; Fathali Moghaddam, Georgetown University, USA; Maritza Montero, Central University of Venezuela, Venezuela; Cristina Montiel, Ateneo de Manila University, Philippines; Noraini Noor, International Islamic University, Malaysia; Nora Alarifi Pharaon, Tamkeen: Center for Arab American Empowerment, USA; Antonella Sapio, University of Florence, Italy; Illana Shapiro, University of Massachusetts, USA; Ann Sanson, University of Melbourne, Richard Wagner, Bates College, USA; Michael Wessells, Columbia University and Randolph-Macon College, USA. More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/7298 Ilai Alon Daniel Bar-Tal • Editors The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution The Israeli-Palestinian Case and Beyond 123 Editors Ilai Alon Department of Philosophy Tel Aviv University Tel Aviv Israel ISSN 2197-5779 Peace Psychology Book Series ISBN 978-3-319-43354-7 DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4 Daniel Bar-Tal School of Education Tel Aviv University Tel Aviv Israel ISSN 2197-5787 (electronic) ISBN 978-3-319-43355-4 (eBook) Library of Congress Control Number: 2016947509 © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. Printed on acid-free paper This Springer imprint is published by Springer Nature The registered company is Springer International Publishing AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland For Anwar al-Sadat, Menahem Begin, Yitzhaq Rabin and King Hussein, Who overcame deep, prolonged, and bloody distrust Acknowledgement We should like to express our gratitude to all the participants in the workshop and the international conference on trust that was organised by the Tel Aviv University Steinmetz Centre, and which was the basis for this volume. vii Contents Part I Theoretical Aspects: Trust in Conflict Resolution 3 1 The Philosophy of Trust . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Joseph Agassi 2 Two Theoretical Approaches to Trust; Their Implications for the Resolution of Intergroup Conflict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Piotr Sztompka 15 Effects of Expectations, Type of Relationship, and Prior Injustice on Trust Honoring: A Strategic-Experimental Approach . . . . . . . . . Ramzi Suleiman 23 3 Part II The Comparative Aspect: How was Trust been Reached in other Conflicts 4 Lessons Learned on Trust Building in Northern Ireland . . . . . . . . . Mari Fitzduff 5 Determinants of Post-conflict Trust: The Role of Ethnic Identity, Personal and Collective Victimization and Intergroup Emotions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dinka Corkalo Biruski Part III 6 7 41 59 The Cultural-Religious Aspect: Trust in Islam and Judaism Some Comments on Language as a Barrier for Trust in Arabic-Speaking Islam . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ilai Alon 83 Usual Suspects: On Trust, Doubt, and Ethnicity in the Mishnah . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Ishay Rosen-Zvi ix x Contents Part IV Trust in the Israeli - Palestinian Conflict 8 Trust and Mistrust in Israeli Peace-Making . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131 Galia Golan 9 The Role of Trust in the Resolution of the Israeli–Palestinian Conflict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149 Ephraim Yuchtman-Yaar and Yasmin Alkalay 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 Yohanan Tzoreff 11 Lay Psychology of Trust/Distrust and Beyond in the Context of an Intractable Conflict: The Case of Israeli Jews . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197 Daniel Bar-Tal, Amiram Raviv, Paz Shapira and Dennis T. Kahn 12 Trust, Ethics, and Intentionality in Conflict Transformation and Reconciliation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 Amal Jamal 13 Lack of Trust as a Barrier to Reconciliation in the Israeli– Palestinian Conflict: Attitudes of Israeli (Jewish) Elite Members Toward Reconciliation with the Palestinians . . . . . . 241 Yehudith Auerbach 14 Historical Narratives and the Issue of Trust . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259 Asher Susser 15 Trust and Confidence Building in the Israeli–Palestinian Peace Negotiations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Walid Salem 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict between Arabs and Jews in Israel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Sammy Smooha Part V Lessons and Conclusions 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust): Concluding Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311 Daniel Bar-Tal and Ilai Alon The Transliteration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335 Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337 Editors and Contributors About the Editors Ilai Alon is a professor at Tel Aviv Department of Philosophy, and the Hertzeliyah Interdisciplinary Centre. He specializes in Islam. He has published books and articles in medieval Islamic philosophy, negotiation in Islam, the emotive language of Arabic and linguistic analyses of Arabic political texts. He was a member of the Israeli delegation in the negotiations with Syria during 1999–2000. Daniel Bar-Tal is Emeritus Professor at the School of Education, Tel Aviv University. His research interest is in political and social psychology studying socio-psychological foundations of intractable conflicts and peace building, as well as development of political understanding among children and peace education. He has published 20 books and over 200 articles and chapters in major social and political psychological journals, books and encyclopedias. He served as a President of the International Society of Political Psychology and received various awards for his work, including the Alexander George Award of the International Society of Political Psychology for the best book in Political Psychology. In 2006 he also received Peace Scholar Award of the Peace and Justice Studies Association for great scholarship and hard work in studying conflicts and peacemaking. In 1991 and again in 2009, he was awarded the Otto Klineberg Intercultural and International Relations Prize of SPSSI. Then he received the Lasswell Award and the Nevitt Sanford Award of the International Society of Political Psychology and the Morton Deutsch Conflict Resolution Award of the Society for the Study of Peace, Conflict, and Violence (Div. 48 of APA). Contributors Joseph Agassi is a philosopher and a professor emeritus in Tel Aviv University and in York University, Toronto. He is a former student and assistant and colleague of Karl Popper, a version of whose critical rationalism he advocates as the best form xi xii Editors and Contributors of liberal democracy. Unlike Popper he does not reject nationalism, considering the liberal democratic nation-state the best system available thus far. He advocates separation of church and state in Israel as an urgent political and humanist task. Agassi has published over 500 papers in the learned press, and over 20 books. He has also edited about 10 books. Selected Publications 2016 “Disparities between Jews and Arabs in the Israeli Criminal Justice System”, The Ohio State Journal of Criminal Law, Vol. 13, No. 1:233–246 (With Rahav, Giora and Rabin, Yoram). 2009 “Value-Orientations in Catholic, Muslim, and Protestant Societies”. (With Yasmin Alkalay). pp. 149–169 in Eliezer Ben-Rafael and Yitzhak Sternberg (eds.) Trans-nationalism: Diasporas and the Advent of New (Dis)order. Boston: Brill. 2002 “Divided yet United: Israeli-Jewish Attitudes toward the Oslo Process”. The Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 39, 5:597–613. 2000. 2000 “Between Consent and Dissent: Democracy and Peace in the Israeli Mind”. Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc. (with Y. Peres). 1998 “The Latitude of Acceptance: Israelis’ Attitudes towards Political Protest before and after the Assassination of Yitzhak Rabin”. The Journal of Conflict Resolution, Vol. 42, 6:721–743. (With T. Hermann). 1985 “Differences in Ethnic Patterns of Socioeconomic Achievement in Israel— a Neglected Aspect of Structured Inequality”. International Review of Modern Sociology, Vol. 15, 1:99–116. 1975 “Determinants of Career Plans: Institutional versus Interpersonal Effects”. American Sociological Review, 40: 521–531 (with Y. Samuel). 1972 “Reward Distribution and Work-Role Attractiveness in the Kibbutz— Reflections on Equity Theory”. American Sociological Review, 37:581–92. 1967 “A System Resource Approach to Organizational Effectiveness”. American Sociological Review, 32: 891–903 (with S. E. Seashore). This article has over 1300 citations and was reprinted in about two dozen edited books into several languages. Yasmin Alkalay is statistical consultant to faculty members at Tel Aviv University Faculty of Social Science. Among her publications: Yuchtman-Yaar, E. and Alkalay, Y. (2010). Political Attitudes in the Muslim World. Journal of Democracy, 21(3) 122–134. Yuchtman-Ya’ar, E. and Alkalay, Y. (2009). Value-Orientations in Catholic, Muslim, and Protestant Societies. In: E. Ben-Raphael and Y. Sternberg (Eds.), Transnationalism—Diasporas and the advent of a new (dis)order. (pp. 149–167). Leiden and Boston: Brill. Dr. Yehudith Auerbach is a senior lecturer at the Department of Political Science and School of Communication and Senior Fellow at the Center for International Communication, Bar Ilan University. Dr. Auerbach is the Director of the Center for Promotion of Teaching at Bar Ilan University. Her main research interest is in Editors and Contributors xiii conflict resolution and reconciliation between enemies in protracted, identity based conflicts. Dinka Corkalo Biruski is Professor of Social Psychology at the Department of Psychology University of Zagreb. She has been involved in numerous research and training projects dealing with psychosocial consequences of war and post-war recovery. Her research interests are in the area of intergroup relations, with emphasis on divided communities, development of minority/majority identity, minority rights and minority education, and postwar social reconstruction. Corkalo Biruski was a visiting Fulbright fellow at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst (2004), a fellow at Solomon Asch Center for Study of Interethnic Conflict, University of Pennsylvania (1999), and a visiting fellow at the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame, USA (2014). She edited or coedited three books and (co)authored over 50 scientific and professional papers and presented her work at numerous international conferences. Dr. Corkalo Biruski is a head of the Doctoral Program in Psychology at the Department of Psychology, University of Zagreb. Mari Fitzduff is currently Professor, and founding Director of the Masters professional programs in Coexistence and Conflict at Brandeis University, USA. Previously (1997–2003) she was Chair of Conflict Studies at Ulster University in Northern Ireland where she directed UNU/INCORE, and its international research and practise work on issues of conflict. In 1990, she was the founding Chief Executive of the Northern Ireland Community Relations Council, a public body funding and developing conflict resolution programs with statutory bodies, trade unions, community groups, security groups, prisoners, businesses and politicians. She has worked extensively with international and national organizations on issues of conflict in Africa, Asia, Europe and the Americas, and has published five books on issues of conflict and peacebuilding. These have included a three-volume series The Psychology of Resolving Global Conflicts: From War to Peace with coeditor Chris Stout. Her latest book, published in 2013 is Public Policies in Shared Societies. Galia Golan is Professor Emerita of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, where she was head of the Department of Political Science. The author of ten books, one edited volume, and scores of articles and chapters in books, Dr. Golan’s latest book is Israeli Peacemaking since 1967: Factors Behind the Breakthroughs and Failures (Routledge, 2014). Professor Golan is the recent recipient of the Distinguished Scholar Award of the International Studies Association (ISA) for her work in peace research and the Israel Political Science Association Award for her Contribution to the Field. Prof. Amal Jamal is the head of the International Graduate Program in Political Science and Political Communication at Tel Aviv University. He is also the head of the Executive Graduate Program in Political Communication and the Walter Lebach Institute for Jewish-Arab Coexistence at Tel Aviv University. He was the xiv Editors and Contributors chair of the Political Science Department at Tel Aviv University from 2006–2009 and is currently Coeditor in Chief of the department’s journal, The Public Sphere. He is the general director of I’lam-Arab Center for Media Freedom, Development and Research. His research fields include political theory and communication, nationalism and democracy, civil society and social movements, indigenous minority politics and citizenship studies. He has published extensively on these topics in professional international journals. Among his recently published books are The Nakba in Israel’s National Memory (Tel Aviv University, 2015); Arab Minority Nationalism in Israel: The Politics of Indigeneity (London: Routledge, 2011) and The Palestinian National Movement: Politics of Contention, 1967–2005 (Indiana University Press, 2005). Dr. Dennis T. Kahn is a postdoctoral candidate at the Interdisciplinary Center, Herzliya and Lund University, Sweden whose research mainly focuses on moral judgment in intergroup conflict. Dr. Kahn finished his dissertation, entitled “Perceiving the Group as Trans-Generational, Endurance of Ingroup Suffering and Willingness to Compromise on Group Assets”, at Tel Aviv University and is also working as an adjunct lecturer at Tel Aviv University, the Open University and the Interdisciplinary Center. Amiram Raviv Ph.D. is a school and clinical psychologist. He is the Dean of School of Psychology, the College for Academic Studies, Or Yehuda, Israel. He is Professor Emeritus at the School of Psychological Sciences, Tel Aviv University. He has published over 100 articles and chapters in professional journals and books and is coeditor and coauthor of eight books providing guidelines and resources to parents and educators in various areas of child development and coping with situations of stress and crisis. Prof. Ishay Rosen-Zvi is the Head of the Talmud and Late Antiquity section in the department of Hebrew Culture Studies at Tel Aviv University, and a member of the Young Israeli Academy of Sciences. Walid Salem is a Lecturer at Al Quds University on democracy, human rights and conflict resolution and Director of the Center for Democracy and Community Development in East Jerusalem. He is author of 30 books and manuals, and tens of research papers on the issues of peace building, political Islam, modernity thinking, citizenship, civil society, democracy and human rights. Paz Shapira is a clinical psychology intern, working with children, adolescents and adults using psychodynamic therapy and psychodiagnostics. Paz received her M.A. in Clinical Psychology and her M.A. in Social Psychology from Tel-Aviv University in 2013. Her M.A. dissertation investigates the concept of trust and positions of trust among Israeli Jews toward neighboring Arab nations. Dr. Sammy Smooha is Professor Emeritus of Sociology at the University of Haifa. He served as Dean of the Faculty of Social Sciences and President of the Israeli Sociological Society and won the 2008 Israel Prize for Sociology. He also Editors and Contributors xv served as a research fellow and a visiting professor at many institutes, including Brown University, University of Michigan, UCLA, University of Washington, Brandies University, United States Institute of Peace and NYU. Dr. Smooha studies Israeli society, with a focus on ethnic relations, in comparative perspective. He has published widely on the internal divisions and conflicts in Israel, and has authored and edited numerous articles and books on Arab-Jewish relations. He conducts, from 2003 on, the annual Index of Arab-Jewish Relations in Israel. Ramzi Suleiman is Professor Emeritus at the Department of Psychology, the University of Haifa, Israel, and an Adjunct Professor of Philosophy at Al Quds University, Palestine. Professor Suleiman holds M.A. and Ph.D. degrees in Psychology and M.Sc. degree in Electrical Engineering. For several years he served as chair of the Department of Psychology at the University of Haifa. During his academic career he taught social psychology, organizational behavior, and experimental economics, in several universities, including the University of Arizona, the University of Bern, ETH Zurich and Tel Aviv University. He also taught electrical engineering at the Technion, Israel’s Institute of Technology. He was a visiting professor at numerous departments of psychology, economics, and sociology in countries around the world. Recently, he was a visiting scholar at the Department of Physics, Boston University. Professor Suleiman’s main fields of interest include theoretical physics, experimental economics, strategic investigation of cooperation, competition, trust, and social dilemmas, the evolution of cooperation, and Palestinian identity and intergroup relations in Israel. His scholarly work in the above-mentioned fields includes numerus presentations in international conferences, more than sixty scientific articles and two edited books on social dilemmas (Cambridge University Press), and computer simulations of social interactions (Physics Verlag-Springer). Asher Susser is a Professor of Middle Eastern History and the Stanley and Ilene Gold Senior Fellow at the Moshe Dayan Center for Middle Eastern Studies at Tel Aviv University (TAU). He was the Director of the Center for twelve years and has taught for over thirty years in TAU’s Department of Middle Eastern History. He has been a Fulbright Fellow; a visiting professor at Cornell University, the University of Chicago, Brandeis University, and the University of Arizona. His most recent book is on Israel, Jordan and Palestine; The Two-State Imperative (2012). He also wrote inter aliaA Political Biography of Jordan’s Prime Minister Wasfi al-Tall (1994) and The Rise of Hamas in Palestine and the Crisis of Secularism in the Arab World (2010). Piotr Sztompka was born in 1944, graduated in law and in sociology, and received his Ph.D. from the Jagiellonian University at Krakow, Poland. He spent a year of postdoctoral studies at Berkeley and Harvard and since 1974 has been Professor of Theoretical Sociology at Krakow. He has been a visiting professor at the universities of the US (17 times), Mexico, Argentina, Australia and Europe, and has been awarded a fellowship at five Institutes for Advanced Study. He is a member of the Polish, European, and American Academies of Sciences. From 2002 xvi Editors and Contributors to 2006 he served as elected President of the International Sociological Association (ISA). In 1995 he was awarded a major international New Europe Prize granted at Uppsala, and was also the laureate of the top academic prizes of the Prime Minister of Poland and the Polish Science Foundation. He also received Pitirim Sorokin Prize and the honorary doctor degree from The State University of the Social Sciences in Moscow, and recently a title of the doctor honoris causa from Soedertoern University in Stockholm. His most important books include System and Function (1974), Sociological Dilemmas (1979), Robert Merton: An Intellectual Profile (1986) published also in Chinese, Society in Action: The Theory of Social Becoming. (1991), The Sociology of Social Change (1993) published also in Russian, Spanish, Portuguese, Chinese, Indonesian, and Japanese, Trust: A Sociological Theory (1999), published also in Chinese and Russian, Cultural Trauma and Collective Identity (coauthored 2005). The textbook (in Polish) Sociology: Analysis of Society, which also came out in Russian became a nationwide bestseller selling 60000 copies. Apart from sociological theory, philosophy of the social sciences, and social change, his recent academic interests include visual sociology and sociology of everyday life. Yohanan Tzoreff is a seasoned expert on Palestinian affairs, and Head of the branch of Palestinian affairs at the ministry of intelligence services. At one time he was the consultant for Arab affairs to the civil administration in Gaza. He has been an academic researcher at the Jerusalem Institute, Florsheimer Institute and the International Institute for Counter-Terrorism, as well as a director of projects of dialogue between orthodox Jewish, and Palestinian, educators. His publications center around the relations between the Palestinian public and their leadership, their attitude toward Israel, Israelis, and the peace process. Mr. Tzoreff is a frequent commentator in the Hebrew and Arabic media on Palestinian affairs. Ephraim Yuchtman-Yaar is Professor Emeritus of Sociology and Social Psychology and Head of the Evens and International Programs in conflict Resolution and Mediation at Tel Aviv University. He was formerly the Dean of the Social Science Faculty and Head of the Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace Research. Professor Yuchtman-Yaar has published numerous books and articles in academic and intellectual journals in the areas of Israeli society, public opinion, the Israeli–Arab conflict, social inequality, sociology of organizations, and cross-cultural research. Since 1994, he is the coauthor of the monthly column entitled “The Peace Index”. Introduction Permanent peace cannot be prepared by threats but only by the honest attempt to create mutual trust Albert Einstein Contents Trust and Distrust: Introduction . . . . . . . Course of the Israeli–Palestinian Conflict Present Volume . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Structure of the Book . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv . . xvi xviii . xix Keywords Trust  Distrust  Intergroup relations  Intractable conflict  Israeli-Palestinian conflict  Peace negotiation  Escalation Trust and Distrust: Introduction The present book concerns two key elements in interpersonal and intergroup relations—Trust and distrust determine to a large extent the nature of the interpersonal and intergroup relationship: whether it is cooperative, competitive, conflictive, amicable, and so on. This socio-psychological element can be considered as one dimension that extends from maximal trust to maximal mistrust or as two dimensions of trust and distrust. Trust and distrust are intimately related to expectations about future behaviors of the other (a person or a group). Expectations determine the level of risk that the party is ready to take. When there is maximal trust and no distrust in a person or a group expectations imply that the one can take risks in the lines of behaviors that carries out and relies on the partner. In contrast, when there is maximal distrust and no trust in a person or group expectations imply that the one cannot take risks in the lines of behaviors that it carries out and one does not rely on the partner. Expectations, thus, lead to particular courses of action xvii xviii Introduction and determine the level of vulnerability that one is ready to take in relations with the other. The above approach implies that trust allows living with a particular conviction that enables a good feeling about the other; it allows avoidance of particular behaviors—for example preparation for harmful acts—as a result of risk taking; it allows carrying out particular behaviors—reduction of the army—risk taking; it allows vulnerability and flexibility of actions. Distrust, in turn, forces living with a particular conviction that generates bad feelings and suspicion about the other, living in a continuous state of threat, living under conditions of preparedness for being harmed (stress), living in continuous readiness to absorb information about potential harm, which forces one to avoid particular behaviors (e.g., showing weakness, vulnerability)—avoiding creative and original behaviors of good-will towards the other, which forces one to carry out particular behaviors (e.g., deterrence, demonstration of strength) and using routinized behaviors. The present book focuses on trust and distrust in intergroup relations and specifically on distrust that has developed in the relations between Israeli Jews and Palestinians who live for many decades in intractable conflict (Bar-Tal 2013). This distrust stands as a major barrier in moving towards a peace-building process. Therefore the editors of this book decided to devote a whole volume to the unveiling and elaborating of this important factor that contributes to the continuing bloodshed and suffering of Jews and Palestinians. Course of the Israeli–Palestinian Conflict Palestinian nationalism and Zionism, the Jewish national movement, have clashed recurrently over the same land, the right of self-determination, statehood, and justice since the end of the nineteenth century. The conflict however is not only territorial and political, but also concerns economic aspects of control over resources; it relates to basic needs such as security and identity, as well as to deep contradictions in religious and cultural goals. Since 1967, with the occupation of the West Bank and Gaza Strip during the Six Day War, the conflict has touched both the interstate and the communal levels. For a long time the conflict was a prototypical case of an intractable conflict. Intractable conflicts are characterized by having lasted at least 25 years, by being violent, perceived as unsolvable, and by having goals that are existential and of a zero-sum nature. Also, the conflict greatly preoccupies society members, and the parties involved invest much in its continuation (see Bar-Tal 1998, 2007a, b; Kriesberg 1993). Although some of the intractable features are still intact, between 1977 and 2000 the conflict began to move towards the tractable end of the dimension. The peace treaty with Egypt in 1979, the Madrid convention in 1991, the Oslo agreements in 1993 and 1995, and the peace treaty with Jordan in 1994 are hallmarks of the peace process that changed the relations between Jews and Arabs Introduction xix in the Middle East (see detailed descriptions in Caplan 2009; Dowty 2005; Morris 2001; Wasserstein 2003). Focusing on the last decade, a re-escalation of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict began with the failure of the July 2000 Camp David summit between Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak and Palestinian Chairman Yasser Arafat, with the participation of US President Bill Clinton. According to the Israeli official view, responsibility for the failure was imputed solely to the Palestinians (see analyses by Bar-Siman-Tov et al. 2007; Drucker 2002; Enderlin 2003; Pressman 2003; Swisher 2004; Wolfsfeld 2004). Moreover, the information supplied by Israeli sources suggested that Arafat, along with the Palestinian leadership, was not interested in resolving the conflict through compromise and peaceful means, but still strove to annihilate Israel, especially by insisting on the right of return of millions of Palestinian refugees to Israel. With the eruption of what is now known as the Second Intifada, the negotiations with the Palestinians ceased, and the level of violence on both sides surged. The Palestinians stepped up their terrorist attacks, mainly by suicide bombings in public places throughout Israel. At the same time, the Israeli security forces, endeavoring to curb the violence and especially the terrorism, carried out acts of violence against the Palestinians. In view of the deadlock, the Israeli Government decided to unilaterally withdraw from the Gaza Strip and from four settlements in the West Bank, evacuating about 8,000 settlers. Disengagement was completed without major incidents by September 2005, but was followed by considerable chaos within Gaza. In the elections held in the Palestinian Territories in January 2006, the Hamas Movement, which calls for replacing the State of Israel with a Palestinian Islamic state in the area that is now Israel, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip, won. The Hamas refused to recognize the right of Israel to exist, or to make peace with Israel. Israel insisted it would maintain relations only with Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas, who is not part of the Hamas-led government. In June 2007, following growing anarchy in Gaza, Hamas militants drove the rival secular Fatah party out of the Gaza Strip. Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas dissolved the unity government and formed a separate government based in the West Bank. The firing of Qassam rockets at civilian targets inside Israel from the Gaza Strip escalated after Hamas took power. On November 27, 2007, the Annapolis Conference took place with the participation of Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert, President Mahmoud Abbas, and US President George W. Bush. For the first time, the conference approved a two-state solution as the mutually agreed-upon outline for addressing the Israeli−Palestinian conflict. The conference ended with the issue of a joint statement by all parties, followed by lengthy formal negotiations between the two parties in two different channels. This did not yield an agreement, however, because the government of Prime Minister Olmert resigned after corruption charges were leveled against him. In the Israeli elections of February 2009, a leader of the hawkish Likud Party, Benjamin Netanyahu, was elected to form a hawkish government which initially xx Introduction did not recognize the two-state solution. Only after pressure from US President Barak Obama in June 2009, Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu accepted the idea of dividing the land between the two nations. Between summer of 2013 and spring 2014, US Secretary of State John Kerry carried very intensive negotiations between the Israeli Government and the Palestinian Authority. The negotiations collapsed and Israel began a third war in Gaza in July 2014. The conflict escalated and in fall 2015 began a Third Intifada that took mainly the form of individual knifing of Jews without systematic organization. The relations between the Israeli Jews and the Palestinians hit again record lows in view of the stalemate in the peace process, growing Jewish settlements, mutual violence, lack of hope, frustrations, and especially lack of trust. During the present round of violence, trust has been playing a most negative role by its absence: agreements and understandings, cease-fires and tahdiyah are being broken, thus giving rise to reluctance to take new chances to reach tranquility or prospects for long-term negotiations. In fact, very little trust has been lost between these two sides over the century-long conflict, because it never was high. Distrust is the dominant element in Jewish Palestinian relations. Present Volume The editors, who, side by side with their academic interest, have been observers and participants in the conflict as Israeli Jews have come to the conclusion that without a trust building peace process, does not have a chance to progress. It was this observation that motivated them to edit this volume and explore from different perspectives this determinative component of peace negotiations, peacemaking, and reconciliation. In this volume we show that the lack of trust between Israel and its Arab neighbors constitutes a major hindrance to the efforts to settle the conflict between them. Still, until very recently, the issue of trust has not been put formally on the agenda in any of the negotiating processes between Israel and the Arabs, and for good reasons. To the best of our knowledge, none of the sides has ascribed sufficient importance to trust as an issue requiring study and preparation already in pre-negotiation stage. Most of this book consists of papers read at a series of faculty seminars conducted over two years at the Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace Research at Tel Aviv University, and papers read at the international conference organized by the same institution in January 2014 with the participation of international, Israeli Jewish, and Palestinian scholars, who study trust, mostly in intergroup relationships and specifically in the Israeli–Palestinian relations. The volumes aims to explore the role of trust and in fact distrust in the Israeli– Palestinian conflict, on the assumption that trust is a necessary, albeit not a sufficient condition for conflict resolution. The focal question thus that absorbed many of the contributors was not only to discuss the nature of trust and distrust but also to Introduction xxi point out how it is possible to build trust in the Israeli–Palestinian relations in order to advance the stalled peace process. We thought that although the issue of trust has been researched in a variety of fields, the multidimensionality of it, with special regard to the Israeli–Palestinian conflict has not been sufficiently addressed. This is particularly true with regard to the concept and practice of trust in Islamic culture, the Arab world, and the ways in which Israeli Jews relate to it. It is, therefore, important to generate both academic theoretical, as well as practical knowledge that will help to illuminate at least part of the responses to the focal question. The book therefore brings together contributors from different disciplines and fields united with one interest—the study of trust and distrust. This feature of the book is very special, as sociologists, philosophers, social psychologists, political scientists, as well as experts in the Middle East, Islam, Judaism and the Israeli–Palestinian conflict bring together real multidisciplinary perspectives that complement each other and then provide a comprehensive picture about the nature of trust and its ramification and implications for the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. In carrying out this mission the contributors used different ways of analysis. While some provide merely conceptual contributions, others use empirical data to support claims, and others report empirical studies with different research methods. Structure of the Book The book has four parts and each will be now described with the included chapters. The book opens with the present introduction chapter by the editors Alon and Bar-Tal. The first part of the book presents three theoretical approaches to trust/distrust: Philosophical, sociological, and socio-psychological. The chapter by Joseph Agassi surveys the idea of trust in the history of modern philosophy, and ties it to critical thinking. According to Agassi, most philosophers, as well as “the religious doctrine of human basic evil have no place for trust.” The reason for the absence of it before the twentieth century is modernism with its proclivity for error-proof science that makes trust redundant. The social side of trust has to do with critical thinking, but not in too great demand. Agassi, who takes issue with some of the above philosophers, ends his paper thus: “… to grant the enemy as much of the benefit of doubt as responsibility allows and follow this move step-by-step hoping for the best.” The second chapter by Piotr Sztompka, a sociologist, is a theoretical and analytic explication of the problem and the dynamics of trust and distrust in the situations of interpersonal and intergroup conflict. He analyzes the approaches to trust, the processes of the evolvement and decay of trust and distrust, as well as their sources and strategies. Ramzei Suleiman in the third chapter provides a description of a particular approach to the study of trust and distrust in social psychology—namely game theory. Game theory relies “on the economic rationality assumption that in xxii Introduction any interaction, each ‘player’ involved in the interaction will strive to maximize his or her own objective utility function, where such utility is non-decreasing in payoff”. As a derivate of this assumption the approach unitizes a very particular way of research methods—games that play other two or more players, reacting to a presented story. Suleiman presents a series of studies that illuminates motivational and cognitive factors that underlie trust or distrust. Their results demonstrate the importance of the type of ‘social climate’ in moderating the effect of trust on the behaviors of the trust recipients. Therefore according to Suleiman creating a climate of partnership could serve as a practical tool in enhancing trust, while revealing egotistic expectations could be harmful to trust building. The second part of the book includes two chapters that bring a comparative perspective to the book. The first chapter in this part by Mari Fitzduff calls attention to the indispensability of cooperation between governmental, security, educational and community institutions for creating trust in intractable social and political conflicts. It is such coalitions that involve, alongside with traditional politicians, a new breed of leaders, within a strengthened environment of civil society, which pave the way towards sustainable peace process. The chapter by Dinka Corkalo Biruski deals with the Balkan region where there is a long collective memory of distrust and then an outbreak in the recent of time of violence in the 1990s. Since the last Balkan war there have been attempts to build trust in this conflict ridden region. Corkalo Biruski discusses the determinants of post-conflict trust in the community of Croats and Serbs in Vukovar, Croatia based on empirical studies. Intergroup emotions were found to be the most important predictors of trust, in connection with the war experiences of the two groups. The third part of the book brings us closer to the main theme of this volume. It illuminates the cultural and religious foundations of trust in the Islam and Jewish tradition and language. According to Ilai Alon the one of causes for distrust in the Islamic world lie in the deep linguistic foundations of Arabic. The linguistic basis often expresses different epistemology between Arabic and other languages. Awareness of such differences may help intercultural interlocutors, avoid misunderstandings and promote trust. The other chapter of this part by Ishay Rosen-Zvi analyzes the concepts of “suspicion” and “trust” as they appear in the Mishnah, the earliest legal code of rabbinic Judaism. He shows that the Mihsnaic conceptualization is not a matter of interpersonal, subjective relationship, as is the expected view of trust, but rather of social policy, and is therefore subject to generalized rules. The fourth, and the last, part reaches the core of the book: It discusses and analyzes various aspects of trust, and specifically distrust, in the context of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. The nine chapters of this part take the perspectives of the participants in the conflict: Israeli Jews, Palestinians and Israeli Arabs. Two chapters attempt to provide a dual perspective of the Israeli Jews and the Palestinians. The chapter by Asher Susser provides a general historical illumination. It focuses on the role of narratives in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict and argues that they are presently unbridgeable, thus eroding trust between the parties. While Israel wishes to end the conflict by agreement on the 1967 war, the Palestinians demand Introduction xxiii correcting the results of that of 1948, which is mostly symbolized by the refugee problem, an existential matter for both sides. According to Susser this latter revolves not only around substance, but more importantly, around the fundamental existential issue, and consequently, minimizes the chances for a two-state solution. The chapter by Amal Jamal has a very wide scope—with psychological sociological, political, philosophical and cultural dimensions—that tries to illuminate the different bases of trust and distrust experienced by Palestinians and Israela Jews in their conflictive relations. It analyzes the deep-seated meanings and perceptions that are the foundations of the present hostile relations and lack of trust on the one hand and explores the possibility of changing this nature of relations and establish trust within the reconciliation process on the other. Four chapters consider mainly the Israeli Jewish perspective. The chapter by Galia Golan examines the element of trust in Israeli conduct during specific instances of negotiations with the Arabs. She shows that on the level of leadership, trusting the Arabs has seldom been the policy, yet on the public level, a considerable section of Israeli Jews are willing to grant it in spite of their negative experiences. She concludes that the Israeli Jews would support leaders who “would not allow distrust to stand in the way of a peace agreement”. The chapter by Ephraim Yuchtman-Yaar provides a set of empirical data about the attitudes of the Israeli Jews and also to a less extent of the Palestinians regarding peace process that began in Oslo, including the question of distrust. The results of the repeated surveys that were taken from 1994 regarding the Israeli Jewish public indicate the degree of its trust in the Palestinians has not been high from the beginning but eroded over time so that presently only about one fifth of the Israeli Jewish public believe in the possibility of reaching a permanent peace agreement with the Palestinians. Moreover, it appears that for a significant part of this public, especially the Messianic and radical secular Right, the distrust in the Palestinians is highly functional since the spread of distrust serves its ultimate goal of keeping under Israel’s sovereignty the entire territory west of the Jordan River, in accordance with the vision of “Greater Israel”. Perhaps not surprisingly, nearly identical results were obtained when the question referred to the perceived trust that the Palestinians have in the Israelis—both peoples do not trust each other. The next chapter by Daniel Bar-Tal, Amiram Raviv, Paz Shapira and Dennis T. Kahn describes a study which uses a lengthy interviews of Israeli Jews to elucidate the meaning of interpersonal and intergroup trust and distrust in general and then specifically in the context of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. The results of the study showed that majority of the participants unsurprisingly are distrustful of Palestinians. This distrust is perceived as predominantly due to the Palestinians (violence towards human lives, not recognizing the State of Israel, not complying with accords, and an attitude of hate towards Israeli Jews). Other factors causing distrust that emerged include the actions of Palestinian leadership and negative attitudes espoused by Israeli Jews towards them. But the study also showed that Israeli Jews were able to specify steps that need to be done by Israel and by Palestinian Authority in order to build trust. In this line the chapter by Yehudit Auerbuch goes few steps further and elaborates on the conditions that are needed to xxiv Introduction build trust in the reconciliation process as seen by the Israeli Jewish elite. Auerbuch assumes that the Israeli–Palestinian conflict is an “identity conflict” and therefore trust between the two peoples is a crucial condition for reconciliation. The study shows that very few of the 20 Israeli Jewish elite members, who answered the questionnaire, were willing to take the seven steps to reconciliation suggested by Auerbuch. Thus she does not see high likelihood for this process at the present stage. Two chapters consider trust and distrust from the Palestinian perspective. The chapter by Yohanan Tzoreff focuses on the expression of distrust by the Palestinians towards Israel from 2009, but first it discusses a cultural approach to the other (mainly distrust) in the Arab political discourse. According to Tzoreff since 2009 Palestinians feel deep distrust towards Israeli Jews. This feeling is experienced by the leader, Abu Mazen, who fully distrusts Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and by the Palestinian people. This distrust lies in the heart of the relations between Israeli Jews and the Palestinians. The chapter by Walid Salem argues that trust and confidence building measures in the Israeli–Palestinian negotiations that started in Washington in 1990 were used by Israel as a tool for preserving the occupation of the Palestinian land. According to Salem, instead of creating a trustworthy process, the negotiations that were successfully built on relational trust were destroyed. The chapter then offers ideas for the creation of a principle-based trustworthy process in order to reach peace between the Palestinians and the Israelis. The final chapter in this part by Sammy Smooha presents a very comprehensive analysis of Jew and Arab (Palestinian) citizens of Israel, regarding trust and distrust between them in the context of the ongoing conflict. This analysis is based on studies carried out over a number of decades. The analysis of this interesting data by Smooha suggests optimistic and pessimistic interpretations. On the optimistic side Israeli Jews and Arabs agree on a number of key issues such as the existence of Israel as an independent and Jewish state. Furthermore life together with Jews since 1948 has increased Israeli-Arab trust in Jews and drawn them to some extent away from Palestinian outlooks on the conflict. On the pessimistic side, the Palestinian Arabs in Israel follow the position of the Palestinians on these issues, leading to rift and stalemate in the relations between Israel and the Palestinians. They share the Palestinian narratives, reject its true nature as a Jewish-Zionist state and wish to transform it into a binational state. Arab-Jewish coexistence in the state of Israeli according to Smooha is a sort of mutual convenience that may explode if Israel weakens and occupation persists. This bleak picture resonates with the intractability of the Jewish–Palestinian conflict, feeding on its multidimensionality, permanency and deadliness. The concluding chapter by Bar-Tal and Alon tries to provide an integrative perspective based on the principles of social and political psychology. It first deconstructs the presented–almost by all the contributors—definition of trust and distrust that derives its basis from the socio-psychological perspective. Indeed trust and distrust are acquired socio-psychological concepts and as such they imply individual and cultural differences. In this vein the context in which they are learned Introduction xxv plays a major for role in the attributed meaning by individuals and groups members. Taking this perspective, it becomes clear that the context of intractable conflict, which evolves a culture of conflict, provides a fruitful ground for the development of distrust between the rivals in the conflict. This conceptualization explains why it is so difficult to erase distrust imparted in the context of intractable conflict and build the needed trust to move a peace building process. Understanding the construction of distrust and then the tremendously difficulty in building trust sheds light on the challenges related to the Israeli–Palestinian conflict in the attempts to deescalate it, lead peaceful negotiations, and then to lead the process of reconciliation. It is our hope that the present volume will provide not only knowledge about trust and distrust, but also will have practical implications for advancing trust building in the two conflict ridden societies—Israeli and Palestinian. The fruitlessness of the conflict continuation is screaming out, seeing the continuous cycles of violence that breed only hatred and hostility and at the same time continuous suffering, hardship and misery. There is a need for brave leadership that can lead and persuade the masses to end this disastrous conflict and begin the long way of peace building with trust to free the two societies from their entangled vicious bond. Ilai Alon Daniel Bar-Tal References Bar-Siman-Tov, Y., Lavie, E., Michael, K., & Bar-Tal, D. (2007) The Israeli-Palestinian violent confrontation: An Israeli perspective. In Y. Bar-Siman-Tov (Ed.), The Israeli-Palestinian conflict: From conflict resolution to conflict management. (pp. 69–100) Houndmills, England: Palgrave Macmillan. Bar-Tal, D. (1998a). Societal beliefs in times of intractable conflict: The Israeli case. International Journal of Conflict Management, 9, 22–50. Bar-Tal, D. (2007a). Societal-psychological foundations of intractable conflicts. American Behavioral Scientist, 50, 1430–1453. Bar-Tal, D. (2007b). Lihyot ‘im ha-sichsudh: Nituah pesichologi-hevrati shel ha-hevra ha-Yehudit be-Israel. (Living with the conflict: Socio-psychological analysis of the Jewish society in Israel). Jerusalem: Carmel [Hebrew]. Caplan, N. (2009). The Israeli-Palestine conflict: Contested history. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell. Dowty, A. (2005). Israel/Palestine. Cambridge: Polity Press. Drucker, R., & Shelah, O. (2005). Boomerang. Jerusalem: Keter. (in Hebrew). Enderlin, C. (2003), Shattered Dreams: The failure of the peace process in the Middle East, 1995– 2002. New-York: Other Press. Kriesberg, L. (1993). Intractable conflicts. Peace Review, 5(4), 417–421. Morris, B. (2001). Righteous victims: A history of the Zionist-Arab conflict 1881–2001. New York: Vintage Books. Pressman, J. (2003), Visions in collision: What happened at Camp David and Taba? International Security, 28, 5–43. xxvi Introduction Swisher, C. E. (2004). The truth about Camp David: The untold story about the collapse of the Middle East peace process. New York: Nation Books. Wasserstein, B. (2003). Israelis and Palestinians: Why do they fight ? Can they stop? New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Wolfsfeld, G. (2004) Media and the Path to Peace. New York: Cambridge University Press. Part I Theoretical Aspects: Trust in Conflict Resolution Chapter 1 The Philosophy of Trust Joseph Agassi Classical Philosophy and Trust The modern philosophical literature on trust begins only in the twentieth century. Earlier modern philosophical literature contains some fleeting observations here and there, with no elaboration, such as on the significance of bona fide, especially in international relations. (Good evidence for the scarcity of discussions of trustworthiness in international relations is the famous fact that famous diplomat William Wotton displeased Queen Elisabeth I by saying that diplomats are expected to lie (Walton 1825, 123). On this level of discourse we find many parables and much wisdom literature promoting honesty and friendship and trust. Parables, however, are neither here nor there. The most popular moral theory of the Age of Reason was eudaimonism, the idea of enlightened self-interest: the recommendation to act always intelligently in one’s own interest. Supposedly, eudaimonism should make one promote friendship and thus trust. It is not surprising then that trust was overlooked as it was deemed unproblematic. It became problematic when it was disdained. Indeed, the early remarkable observation on trust in that philosophical literature is the texts that disdain it. These begin in the writings of the notorious German philosopher Georg Friedrich Wilhelm Hegel. His proposal to disregard trust altogether rests on his theory that some of his later disciples have mislabeled with the honorific title of Realpolitik (Emery 1915, 448–468; Buchwalter 2012, 172–3). He denied all significance to trust in international politics, arguing that the strong comply with (international) agreements only because of self-interest, since the strong can always J. Agassi (&) Tel Aviv University, Tel Aviv, Israel e-mail: agass@Post.tau.ac.il J. Agassi York University, Toronto, Canada © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_1 3 4 J. Agassi disregard them with impunity. And according to Realpolitik so they should (Meinecke 1957, Book 3; Popper 1945, Chap. 12). Now, the ability of the strong to disregard their own promises is too obvious, and so it reverberated in the political literature repeatedly. Nevertheless, the explicit recommendation of it in Machiavelli’s The Prince (1532) was considered scandalous. Yet Machiavelli definitely rejected the proposal to take treachery as the standard, since he was an advocate of liberalism (Agassi 2016, 88); he promoted treachery strictly for the purpose of attaining power; not for wielding it: for that purpose he found the trust of the people better than their fear. The first clear discussion of trust and full expression of the idea that it is a part of political life proper, is in The Elements of Law, Natural and Politic of Thomas Hobbes (1640; Chap. 15, Sect. 10); for, Hobbes spoke there of the cost of the acquisition of trust and friendship as factors that should comprise a strong incentive for the avoidance of taking Realpolitik as the default option. The concern of Hegel was much broader than that of Machiavelli and different from that of Hobbes. Unlike Machiavelli who had advocated treachery for the acquisition of power, and unlike Hobbes who offered a theory of it, Hegel recommended it as a means for the retention of power—so as to prevent revolutions: he aimed to free politicians from the bonds of common morality once and for good. He goaded them into taking care of their interests ruthlessly, constantly, and without hesitation. The totalitarian regimes of the early twentieth century took Realpolitik for granted. Thus, world public opinion sneered at the British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain when it turned out that his Munich accord, meant to appease the Führer, was a serious error, as the Führer simply ignored it. The sneer swelled when Chamberlain explained his error, saying he had thought the Führer was a gentleman. Nevertheless, taken literally Realpolitik is downright silly, although as a warning it may remain very useful. For, it ignores the benefits of trust—benefits that make it at times worthwhile to acquire with effort and at a cost (as already Hobbes had noted). Realpolitik was endorsed as a semiofficial philosophy in Nazi Germany. Carl Zuckmayer, the German anti-Nazi playwright, argued that some trust is indispensable. He said, Nazi Germany was so consumed by distrust that it was doomed: even had it won the war, he added, it would have been destroyed internally as success was admired there even if acquired through treachery (Zuckmayer 1970, 74). Now all this is much clearer. One of the most popular and celebrated postwar sociologists, Amitai Etzioni, devoted a whole text to the theory of stepwise construction of trust (Etzioni 1962). Commonsensical as this book is, regrettably its ideas are still not sufficiently commonplace as they are hard to assimilate because Realpolitik is still so popular. Nevertheless, discussions of Realpolitik did raise philosophical debates about trust. Yet it was in a round and about manner. Hegel criticized Kant, and responding to him led to recent studies of the role of trust in Kant’s philosophy. In principle, Kant favored eudaimonism; but he deemed humanity not sufficiently mature to 1 The Philosophy of Trust 5 practice it. In the meantime, he advocated his celebrated categorical imperative: act in a universalizable manner (van de Pitte 1971, 13). Is trusting universalizable? In a Kantian society trust is self-understood; in other societies it is as suicidal as pacifism. Hence it is not universalizable. Hence, neither is the categorical imperative that is thus self-defeating. A more realist theory of trust finds a significant role in the writings of Hegelian Karl Marx.1 His discussion of trade unions refers to the importance of class solidarity and that means agreement and subsequent trust among workers. In his opinion actions that trade unions initiate in order to raise the wages of workers are useless (since raising wages causes inflation that keep real wages minimal), and so they cannot count as expressions of the class struggle; to make any improvement, a revolution is needed, one that probably cannot be achieved without the civil war between the supporters of market economy and of the controlled economy that he was trying to instigate. Nevertheless, he approved of unionism and advised his followers to join union activities; he said, these activities will raise class solidarity, and their assured failure will raise the level of their readiness and ability to heighten the class struggle (Sabia 1988, 50–71). There is much insight and much humanism behind this thinking, since this way Marx took into account the facts: workers are wise in being unenthusiastic about fighting a civil war; instigating it is permissible only after the failure of achieving vital goals by peaceful means; and hence, unionism is morally obligatory as the first step in the class struggle. Now in the West unionism was tried with great success. So it is easy to see the humanism of Marx by contrasting it with the attitude of Herbert Marcuse and of the self-styled Marxists who accused the workers of having accepted bribes from the employers in order to betray the cause of the revolution: he advocated the revolution not in order to alleviate the suffering of the workers but for a greater end (Marcuse 1972, 51–3, 78, 126–7). This did not inspire trust. Yet Marcuse was popular—presumably because distrust is. The religious doctrine of human basic evil encourages distrust even though society cannot survive without trust. The eudaemonist philosophy that was popular in the Age of Reason, the idea that following one’s self-interest rationally is of necessity socially beneficial, obviously boosts trust. Most economists still try to adhere to it, but not philosophers. Karl Marx replaced it with the theory of the class struggle, but he was an optimist nonetheless, taking it for granted that the near future will witness classless society where the ideals of the Age of Reason will prevail (Connerton 1980, Chap. 3). This optimism faded. The most influential philosophers in the twentieth century were Martin Heidegger and Ludwig Wittgenstein, and their influence in spreading distrust was considerable because neither one had any place for trust of any kind in their systems. Heidegger’s philosophy was Nazi: a central item in it is (not trust but) Speech by Marx to the First International Working Men's Association, June 1865: “Value, Price and Profit”: XIII. Main Cases of Attempts at Raising Wages or Resisting their Fall; XIV. The Struggle Between Capital and Labour and its Results 1 6 J. Agassi authenticity. His theory of authenticity centered on one’s innermost self rather than on the other, and he viewed it as savage. As to Wittgenstein, he was politically a conservative, but this found no adequate expression in his philosophy as he dismissed all discourse on any matter that is not verifiable, including morality and thus also political aspirations. Of course, he considered morality very significant, and yet he denied it the right of critical discussion and even proper exposition. This risked rationality as such, as rational discussion is vital for the improvement of ethics and of the political aspiration that is at the basis of all daring political moves and with no trust all daring moves are stillborn. The influence of Wittgenstein was unhealthy in discouraging communicating our ethical principles and testing them by public debates between diverging parties. Trust and Rational Dissent The almost total absence of discussion of trust in the classical philosophical literature is indeed almost unavoidable. The Age of Reason took rationality to be proof. Now the demand for proof forbids mere trust and proof renders trust unnecessary. Of course, there are many aspects of social life that are not yet scientifically explicable. This raises a constant problem of choice: should we tackle these aspects scientifically or learn to cope with them otherwise in the meantime? Obviously, the first option looks more challenging and so it is not surprising that it drew most attention. There remained the irrationalist philosophers who were not bound by the demand for proof. As it happens, none of them advocated the view that to trust your neighbors is better than to distrust them even if there is no information that renders them particularly trustworthy. On the contrary, they spread distrust. A Fascist slogan said, do not think, the Duce thinks for you. Another said, the masses want to be lied to. How sad. Yet the twentieth century saw the rise of a new, much less demanding view of rationality (adumbrated in the writings of Heinrich Heine decades earlier), that of rationality as openness to criticism. It appeared in works of Russell, Einstein, Bernard Shaw and others, although the contrast between these two theories (and the advocacy of the latter) appeared only after the War, and only in the writings of Karl Popper (1945). This opened the possibility of assuming with no proof at all that my neighbors are trustworthy or that they are not and of putting the assumption to critical tests. This raises a question: what options are open to critical discussion and which is the first to try? This new agenda rests on the assumption that the hostility to criticism is a mistake resting on uncalled-for distrust. Russell claimed (criticizing the philosophy of Henri Bergson) (Russell 1917) that, in order to signify, ideas should be open to criticism. And so, the wish to present significant ideas clashes with the wish for one’s ideas not to be critically scrutinized. Yet one may wish to have one’s idea pass all critical attention with flying colors. This sounds like the wish to win the 1 The Philosophy of Trust 7 lottery and the suggestion that as we purchase a lottery ticket we accept the low likelihood of winning. This is an understandable error: not winning is at most the loss of the price of the ticket, but it is hardly even that as the ticket buys some thrill. Not so when we present a significant idea that criticism shoots down: after all some of the greatest ideas of all times are refuted. On this the comment of Russell on the attitude of his predecessor Gottlob Frege is enlightening: he, Russell, wrote to Frege a letter in which he devastated his, Frege’s, system of logic; Frege did not resent it. Russell found this just admirable: it was not the standard. Indeed, when (in 1931) Kurt Gödel refuted Hilbert’s program (of 1920), Hilbert was angered. Similarly, Wittgenstein and many of his followers resented Bertrand Russell’s introduction to Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (1922) as it includes devastating criticism, even though it is very appreciative (Wittgenstein 1922). They repeatedly dismissed Russell’s criticism. I have found almost2 no discussion of this that could add some details and mention what exactly Russell failed to comprehend and what was his error. Since such additions are usually expected, it is hard to avoid the conclusion that they were not arguing in good faith.3 So in addition to undermining trust they also violate the trust embedded in the very possibility of rational debate. Consequently, Russell was willing to have his introduction removed from later editions of the book, but A.J. Ayer, a leading exponent of the philosophy of Wittgenstein, assured him that his Introduction was wanted (Russell 1998, 625). It was dismissed only as a response to the criticism it included. So was Wittgenstein’s book itself. He wrote in it that what he had written in it cannot be written.4 He explained: he wrote it nonetheless, only as ladders to be thrown away5. That is to say, some ideas cannot be expressed properly, but their improper statements hint at their proper but inexpressible content. Supposing this explanation is tenable, those readers who trust Wittgenstein and use his ladder become prisoners on his rooftop. An example of a statement that cannot be properly expressed is any statement that begins with the words “thou shalt not.” Ayer explained: “Thou shalt not do x!” for example is a mere expression of distaste for x (Ayer 1936, 60). Ethical judgments then are not given to rational debate. This is obviously false, as we do debate ethics and our morals do improve. Nor is the example of Ayer any good. By definition kleptomania is a strong taste for theft that 2 A notable exception is Nordmann 2005, 6. This is particularly so in the case of Rudolf Carnap, who, in his Logical Syntax of Language (Carnap 1937) endorsed Russell’s criticism of Wittgenstein without saying so. He wrote as if that criticism is irrelevant to the view of Wittgenstein that metaphysics is unsayable. Wittgenstein himself knew better and so he never admitted Russell’s suggestion that discourses and meta-discourses belong to different languages. This is why he offered a different resolution to the paradoxes (self-reference is impossible) and this is why Popper’s refutation of this resolution (Popper 1954, 162–169) is so deadly. 4 Russell’ famous Introduction to Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus includes this as its major criticism of that book: Wittgenstein says in that book that much of what he says there cannot be said. Russell explains this by suggesting that the book is written in a language different from that which the book describes: the book is written in the meta-language. 5 Wittgenstein 1922, §6.54. Having cast the ladder, one is trapped. 3 8 J. Agassi does not prevent its victims from having the moral conviction that it is wrong. (This is an observable fact.) This discussion is on a very low level. It was conducted at the time in great seriousness in the grandest halls of academe, and allowed by the public in virtue of the prestige of the leading academics who conducted it, thus misusing the great public trust in them. All this is a mere conjecture on my part, since Wittgenstein and his followers declared undecidable statements meaningless, without explaining what meaning is. Ayer repeatedly moved with ease between the obscure sense of the word that Wittgenstein had introduced and the ordinary sense of the word that is relevance: a move in a discussion is declared meaningless if and only if it is deemed irrelevant. The wish to prevent debate, especially forceful debate, especially on principles, may have a rational aim, the aim to increase trust even if agreement is wanting. If so, then it boomerangs: the fear of disagreement is the fear of destroying trust between friends who are honest and brave in their observation that they disagree. And this is how Wittgenstein and Ayer and their like unwittingly undermined trust —at least between disagreeing philosophical schools. When Wittgenstein declared the philosophers who engage in metaphysics slum landlords and declared his intention to hound them, he was not creating the atmosphere of mutual trust that rational debate requires; when friends tried to soften his harsh assertion he became adamant (Wittgenstein and McGuinness 1974, 314). Since he claimed that his harsh pronouncements rested on logic, those disposed to take him seriously tried to broaden the domain of logic so as to circumvent his harsh pronouncements. The first to do that was the gentle Charles W. Morris in 1938. He relied on the teachings of Charles S. Peirce, known as pragmatism (though Peirce himself preferred the term “pragmaticism” to distinguish his own philosophy from the pragmatism of William James). The word “pragmatism” alludes to Kant’s distinction between pure and pragmatic reason, where the pragmatic concerns goal directedness. Morris introduced an utterly unobjectionable verbal distinction that took care of the softening of Wittgenstein’s harsh attitude: the harshness does not apply to metaphors, for example; and so it led to the switch from the word “meaning” to the word “cognitive meaning” so that if a poem has no cognitive meaning it still can have some other sort of meaning, whatever it may be. Morris labeled noncognitive meaning “pragmatic meaning”. Consider an example. Yehuda Halevy said, “My heart is in the east, and I in the uttermost west” (Translated by Nina Salaman). He meant, I long for the Holy Land. The difference between the poem’s line and its prose summary is deemed pragmatic. The new field of study, pragmatics, does not include discussion of communication difficulties; disciples of Wittgenstein ignored the communication barrier that the use of metaphors raises and that all other obstacles to critical discussion raise. Their demand for utter clarity was supposed to remove all barriers to communication so as to rout the very need for critical debates. Hence, all critical debates that they engaged in, particularly between themselves, are self-refuting. Consider the wish to question the assertion of Yehuda Halevy, whether by claiming that he was insincere or by claiming that he was longing not for the Holy Land but for some utopia (etymologically, no place). This would not be impeded by 1 The Philosophy of Trust 9 his having expressed himself metaphorically rather than literally. This does not hold, say, for Martin Heidegger, whose terminology renders it almost impossible to criticize without opening oneself to the claim that one has misunderstood him. This limits the trust in his interpreters to those who say that they agree with him! Make this a principle and you divide us all into groups of people who comprehend and agree with and trust each other, but with the groups totally isolated from each other. Assuming truth to be relative to communities achieves this. This is worse than Realpolitik! So much for the introduction of pragmatics. Its failure is that it did not soften the harshness of Wittgenstein or the distrust that he sowed. For, the success of pragmatics is that it left unchanged the contents of assertions and the ability to debate them. But Wittgenstein claimed more, namely that the truth is manifest (“it shows itself”, with italics in the original), so that there can hardly be prolonged debates about facts. The same holds for the principle of tolerance that Wittgenstein’s most celebrated disciple Rudolf Carnap had announced.6 For, the tolerance was of ways in which true statements are asserted, not of dissent from them. As Carnap was a socialist, his view that the truth is manifest unwittingly but necessarily implied that those who argued against socialism were not arguing bona fide. Yet he knew that Wittgenstein and many other of his followers did not all share political views. The assumption that political disagreement is bona fide is essential for parliamentary democracy. Radicalism and Trust The idea that made the view of Wittgenstein and of Carnap and their cohorts popular is common: criticism is insulting and even challenge to a debate is. The reason for this view is the idea that one can avoid error, so that one ought to avoid error, so that not having avoided error is proof of negligence. This is a traditional view: your religion provides you with the proper rules and all you need to do to avoid error is to follow the straight and narrow. Admittedly, modern scientific tradition opposed those rules, but only in order to provide different and supposedly secular rules for avoiding all error. These rules to avoid error are the rules of method. They bespeak radicalism. Radicalism is rationalist but rationalism need not be radical. Medieval rationalism was not radical. It is best depicted in the teachings of Maimonides, who advocated the life of philosophical contemplation. Contemplation rests on the availability of time for it, and this availability exists in an orderly society, he observed, on its rules and regulations. The radical rationalism of Descartes is very We find in Hudson 2010, an explanation of this principle: as Rudolf Carnap had trouble deciding what language to choose, he left the question open and called this his principle of tolerance (Carnap 1937, 51–2). 6 10 J. Agassi different. He argued that it is possible to stick to the right rules of method and think carefully. And then one can avoid all error. Very seldom did he report about himself, yet this he did: having studied in a respectable college, he discovered that his teachers did not avoid all error. He resolved then to discard all that they had taught him and start thinking afresh very carefully. He said, whatever he thought because he was French and not Chinese he wanted not to think. This was his resolve to free himself of all tradition first and foremost. This was his radicalism. He presented his opinions as scientific, namely, as proven, namely, as free of all error. This idea remained uncontested despite all skeptical criticism, especially that of David Hume. What was contested for a while was this. Did the question—whether natural philosophy was science proper, namely proven—refer to the theories of Descartes or to those of Newton? And so we see that in history the idea that proof dispels dissent is false. Yet this was the very rationale for the demand for proof. After the Einsteinian Revolution (1905 or 1919) many researchers took it for granted that scientific tests can never lead to proof proper. Thus, whereas in the early nineteenth century the Encyclopedia Britannica article “Science” included a few lines explaining that science means etymologically (certain) knowledge, by the mid-twentieth century it had many pages representing the leading scientific theories of the time. The absence of theories of trust in the Age of Reason is thus clear: proof renders trust redundant: there is no need to trust what is certainly true, since trust is the overcoming of doubt. If proof can replace trust, then in principle trust is redundant; it can be useful only as a stopgap. As long as faith in proof was rampant, researchers had the choice between discussing the question, how should one behave in the meantime, or develop a provable theory. Obviously, the latter option was more challenging. In the meantime, said Descartes, we can follow convention. And convention includes commonsense ideas about trust and for the time being we can follow them uncritically. Radicalism is still alive and kicking. It is hard to say what replaces proof in any of its familiar up-to-date versions, but something has to, since it paints the world in black-and-white. Publicists like Herbert Marcuse won a reputation as thinkers despite (or because) of their presentation of a view of the world in black-and-white terms and their contempt for the other. Indeed, if you are thoroughly convinced that advocates of the opposite views are offspring of the devil, you have to express contempt for them. Knowing that you are right, said Robespierre quite rightly (1794), you have no use for an opposition; there is little for you to do other than to explain yourself so that the ignorant can learn—provided they have good will. The purpose of debates then is to enlighten and convince the undecided, and expressing contempt for the holders of different views may very well be the best tool for recruiting the undecided; that depends on their intellectual level. The ability to express respect for competing opinions requires a level of sophistication that is regrettably not too common. In the absence of sophistication one may call one’s own views “scientific”. Which, in turn, makes it impossible to trust people who advocate different views. True, making peace requires negotiations, not critical 1 The Philosophy of Trust 11 exchanges of opinions. And of course, making peace is a matter of political expediency, not of commitment to any idea; and expediency is ephemeral and its admission may be overruled. Realpolitik here we come! The principle of Trust The disposition to view the world as black-and-white is strong. One reason for this is that it solves with ease the problem of trust: we have to trust the right people and to distrust the wrong people, and it is easy to see who is right and who is wrong. The use of marks that distinguish us from them is very common, and more so in primitive societies than in advanced ones; they are not necessary but they make it easier to see in a glance the difference between right (us) and wrong (them). This idea disturbs people when they find that some of the wrong people have some right qualities. It should force these people to stop seeing the world in black-and-white terms but they often find this too painful. Clinging to the black-and-white attitude is comforting, whereas finding facts that do not fit it is a cause for discomfort. Moreover, an illusion prevails that efforts to ignore uncomfortable facts restores comfort. The alternative is to abandon childhood images of the world as black-and-white and to learn to trust people who are not obviously trustworthy, as long as they are not obviously untrustworthy, so that risk of betrayal is involved. Trust in the naïve picture of the world that tells you whom to trust and whom to distrust gives way to cynicism, to the view that all trust is silly, to Realpolitik. Only growing out of this second stage allows for respectful disagreement and the ability to engage in dialogue, in the ability to decide whom, and when to trust with no assurance. Heidegger’s political ideal is cynical. Alternatively, it moves with unease between the naïve and the cynical. Wittgenstein’s ideal of clarity does not fit here at all. It rejects the naïve in the name of science, and leaves no room for the cynical, since the extreme empiricism that it advocates implies that every disagreement about facts must be settled fast. It thus leaves no room for expressions of disagreement on anything else, much less for respectful dissent and rational debate on anything whatsoever. What then is the recommendation of Wittgenstein and of his school regarding trust? In his posthumous writings, he equated spontaneous agreement with spontaneous sympathy, and even declared it essential. (Wittgenstein 1980, 1972.) Since our worldviews are groundless, he also said, our trust is groundless; it is a groundless social bond that nonetheless is necessary to the functioning of society. He thus recognized trust as natural, but as not rational. For, he had no rational theory of knowledge that should tell us whether we should trust our senses, science, worldviews. The nearest to the study of interpersonal trust in the Wittgenstein school is the comments of Stanley Cavell on Shakespeare’s King Lear (Cavell 1969, Chap. 1), 12 J. Agassi the play that presents wrong trust and wrong distrust. However, as we judge it as literary criticism, Cavell’s text has nothing specific to philosophy. This is the general case with that school: it takes commonsense for granted without discussion, and with the implicit suggestion that it draws the best of what is available in it. It thus ignores the superstitions and prejudices that it may include as well as he problematic cases that it is silent about, such as the case of trust. The nearest anyone came to discussing commonsense and trust is Martin Buber, who followed Georg Simmel’s study of religion. Applied to religion, scientific skepticism questions the view that God exists; a question that is too sophisticated for most traditions and for many people (even within the scientific tradition). Rather, for them faith is the endorsement or the rejection (not of the idea that God exists but) of the idea that He is to be trusted. “O Israel, trust thou in the Lord: he is their help and their shield”, says the Bible (Psalm 115:9). Oddly, Wittgenstein held a similar view. He took it as the validation of his view that there is no room for theological discussion. Buber led it in a different direction, namely as the requirement to reject the starting point of Descartes, “I think, therefore I am” as it begins with him sitting alone in his room and contemplating the world and his place in it. Rather, said Buber, I exist because you exist; my existence and yours come together. This idea establishes trust at the very starting point, as the default option, from which we usually deviate to construct our social environment as we do. So much for the naïve and the cynical answers to the question (when is trust advisable), and for the answers to it of the two leading contemporary schools of philosophy, as well of as of Simmel and of Buber. To the extent that other contemporary schools of philosophy offer any answer to this question, they deal with the knowledge that helps decide such matters: traditionally, such knowledge is either traditional or scientific. Now, as tradition varies from one society to another, the traditional answer is rather xenophobic: trust your fellow tribespeople and distrust strangers. Breaking the xenophobia leads to science. Science is traditionally radical, and so it ignores tradition. Initially, social science was unwittingly radical and centers on politics and on political economy; both are highly radical to date. In reaction to radicalism social studies are largely under the influence of Hegel and are thus traditionalist and historical. Only the early twentieth century social science was moderate. After World War II, Karl Popper was the first to say that our fund of knowledge is to be subject to critical scrutiny, and so social science should begin with tradition and take it from there by applying the critical method that characterizes science (Popper 1946). Viewed this way we can approach the problem of trust phylogenetically and ontogenetically. As children, to start ontogenetically, we believe in Santa Claus. Naïve trust becomes less naïve and, to repeat, at times, cynical. The critique of 1 The Philosophy of Trust 13 cynicism leads to the idea that we should give people the benefit of doubt and trust them unless there is reason to the contrary. The benefit of the doubt is hardly recognized by scientific radicalism, much less by advocates of Realpolitik. The phylogenetic image of trust is different since at times giving other nations the benefit of the doubt is irresponsible. Thus, Chamberlain was considered irresponsible, and politicians under pressure who refuse to give enemies the benefit of the doubt shout “Munich, Munich!” This is where Amitai Etzioni comes in with his proposal to grant the enemy as much of the benefit of doubt as responsibility allows and follow this move step-by-step hoping for the best. This is achieved by creating safeguards against treachery, such as increased trade and trade sanctions. These are not foolproof; they are reasonable all the same. The question, what makes action reasonable, has become increasingly central in the social sciences in the last century and this has led to considerations of the gain and loss of any action once on the supposition that it is right and once on the supposition that it is a mistake. Considering the fact that the cost of wars is very high and constantly on the increase, is thus a great incentive to eschew Realpolitik: “trust one’s neighbor, although within reason.” What is within reason and what is not depends on conditions, and these are open manipulation. This means that within reason we can be optimists and within tradition pessimists. This seems black-and-white, and so it should be critically assessed and improved upon. References Agassi, J. (2016). Towards a fictionless liberalism. Philosophy of the Social Sciences, 46(1), 88. Ayer, A. J. (1936). Language, truth and logic. London: V. Gollancz, ltd. Buchwalter, A. (2012). Dialectics, politics, and the contemporary value of Hegel’s practical philosophy. London: Routledge. Carnap, R. (1937). Logical syntax of language. London: Kegan Paul. Cavell, S. (1987). The avoidance of love: A reading of King Lear. (Reprinted in his Disowning knowledge: In Seven Plays of Shakespeare, 1969). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Connerton, P. (1980). The tragedy of enlightenment: An essay on the Frankfurt School. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press. Emery, H. C. (1915). What is realpolitik? International Journal of Ethics, 25(4), 448–468. Etzioni, A. (1962). The hard way to peace: A new strategy. Bel Air CA: Crowell-Collier Press. Hudson, R. (2010). Carnap, the principle of tolerance, and empiricism. Philosophy of Science, 77, 341–358. Marcuse, H. (1972). Counterrevolution and revolt. Boston MA: Beacon. Meinecke, F. (1957). Machiavellism: The Doctrine of Raison D’État and Its Place in Modern History. (Trans. from the German S. Scott). New Haven: Yale University Press. https://archive. org/stream/machiavellismdoc00mein/machiavellismdoc00mein_djvu.txt Nordmann, A. (2005). Wittgenstein’s Tractatus: An Introduction (Cambridge Introductions to Key Philosophical Texts). Cambridge, UK; New York: Cambridge University Press. 14 J. Agassi Popper, K. (1946). Towards a Rational Theory of Tradition (Reprinted in his Conjectures and refutations, 1963, pp. 162–182). London: Routledge. Popper, K. R. (1945). The open society and its enemies. London: Routledge. Popper, K. R. (1954). Self-reference and meaning in ordinary language. Mind, 63, 162–169. Russell, B. (1914). Mysticism and logic (Reprinted in Russell, B. Mysticism and logic and other essays, 1917). London, Allen & Unwin. Russell, B. (1998). The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell. London: Routledge. Sabia, D. R., Jr. (1988). Rationality, collective action, and Karl Marx. American Journal of Political Science, 32, 50–71. van de Pitte, F. P. (1971). Kant as Philosophical Anthropologist. The Hague: Nijhoff. Walton, I. (1825). The Lives of Dr. John Donne, Sir Henry Wotton, Mr. Richard Hooker, Mr George Herbert, and Dr. Herbert Sanderson. London: John Major. Wittgenstein. L. (1922). Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. (C. K, Ogden, Trans.) London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co. Wittgenstein, L. (1972). On Certainty. (G. E. M. Anscombe & G. H. von Wright Eds., D. Paul, & G. E. M. Anscombe, Trans.) New York: Harper Torchbooks, Wittgenstein, L. (1980). Remarks on the Philosophy of Psychology. (G. E. M. Anscombe, Trans.). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Wittgenstein, L., & McGuinness, B. (1974). Wittgenstein in Cambridge: Letters and documents 1911–1951. Oxford: Blackwell. Zuckmayer, C. (1970). A part of myself. NY: Harcourt. Chapter 2 Two Theoretical Approaches to Trust; Their Implications for the Resolution of Intergroup Conflict Piotr Sztompka My purpose is a theoretical and analytic explication of the problem of trust and distrust in the situation of interpersonal or intergroup conflict. I will not refer to any concrete conflict, but rather draw a conceptual map applicable to a variety of conflicts. The main focus will be the emergence of trust and distrust in the interpersonal and intergroup relations. But then we shall narrow down the focus to the question how trust can be rebuilt when distrust is pervasive between individuals or groups, taking for granted that distrust is a core definitional quality of an interpersonal or intergroup conflict. There are two theoretical approaches concerning the emergence or decay of trust. First, we may speak of the trust or distrust rooted in history, i.e., building trust and distrust incrementally from below. Both are perceived as path dependent, emerging in the long cumulative process made of beneficial or harmful experiences in mutual relationships. History of peaceful and fruitful cooperation or coexistence begets trust whereas history of mutual violence and wars results in distrust. In the same way history of mutual support and coalitions against outside enemies produces trust, whereas history of breached treaties, disloyalty, and treason leads to distrust (Sztompka 1999). The second approach focuses on the trust and distrust as rooted in a wider structural context, i.e., building trust and distrust purposefully from above, by shaping the environment of actions, individual and collective. Both trust and distrust are perceived as emerging due to the imposition of, respectively, secure or insecure environment for the mutual relationships. Order and predictability by means of a rule of law and consistent policies is conducive to trust, whereas anarchy, anomie, and arbitrariness of law and law enforcement begets distrust. In other words public accountability of action is crucial. Russell Hardin observes: “Much of our ability to trust others on ordinary matters of modest scope depends on having institutions in place that block especially destructive implications of P. Sztompka (&) Jagiellonian University, Krakow, Poland e-mail: ussztomp@cyf-kr.edu.pl © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_2 15 16 P. Sztompka untrustworthiness” (Hardin 2002, 109; See also: Hardin 2004). Equally important is the efficient and transparent administration which results in trust, whereas weak, inefficient, secretive bureaucracy easily leads to pervasive distrust (Kramer and Cook 2004). Another important aspect of the environment of action is the “civilized public sphere”: “the social conditions and mechanisms that make actors, institutions and organizations act and perform in a civilized manner in a public sphere” (Papakostas 2012, viii). Such context induces trust, whereas decay of everyday civility and basic moral bonds of loyalty, reciprocity, solidarity, and sympathy are the assured road to pervasive distrust. Finally more intangible factors matter as well. I have in mind the aesthetic frame of everyday life, cleanliness, neatness, orderly arrangements, light, and color which breed optimism and trust, whereas dirt, decay, disorder, grayness, and darkness stimulate gloom and distrust. I will treat both approaches as complementary rather than alternative or competing, drawing implications for the problem from both of them. Now we have to narrow our focus by distinguishing four modalities of trust building, or trust decay, i.e., four types of processes dependent on the different starting points. First, it may happen that trust or distrust already existing is simply enhanced, extended, deepened (e.g., trust in a long-time friend, distrust in a long-standing enemy). This is quite common, because of the well-known mechanism of self-fulfilling prophecy (Merton 1996, 183–204). If we trust somebody, and particularly if we have been trusting for a long time, we tend to interpret his/her actions as signals of trustworthiness, up to a moment when the evidence of untrustworthiness becomes overwhelming. The reverse is true of distrust. If somebody is distrusted, and particularly when distrust is pervasive for a long time, his/her actions are easily interpreted as a proof of untrustworthiness, e.g., cynical schemes to lower the vigilance and disarm the enemy, unless overwhelming evidence points to the contrary with strong proofs of authentic good intentions (Hardin 2004). Second, we sometimes reach trust or distrust ad hoc in an encounter with a stranger (e.g., due to the impulse of “first impressions”). Third, we may attempt to reverse the vector of trust or distrust. Trust is a fragile resource. When breached or abused, it easily collapses. The more commitment to the relationship and stronger the trust, the more rapid and dramatic is the reaction to the evidence of untrustworthiness (e.g., the loss of trust in the disloyal spouse). On the other hand initial distrust is much more resistant to change, obtains certain inertia. The most demanding case is breaking the vicious cycle of deepening distrust and beginning the slow construction of trust. There is a certain asymmetry: “Distrust is harder to unlearn when conditions change to justify trust, than is trust when conditions change to justify distrust” (Hardin 2002, 107). Therefore, the situation of interpersonal or intergroup conflict, by definition implying distrust, presents the most difficult challenge. Regaining trust in the enemy sounds like a contradictio in adiecto. To probe if such a situation is necessarily hopeless, we must make certain conceptual clarifications. Trust and distrust appear in the context of uncertainty about the future actions of others: individuals or groups. Both concepts are symmetrical: “Trust and distrust are functionally equivalent in that they tell us how to act when we do not know for sure the other’s motives and intentions and being wrong could have undesirable 2 Two Theoretical Approaches to Trust; Their Implications … 17 consequences” (Luhmann 1979, 71). Trust is an optimistic bet: those actions of the other will be beneficial, meet our expectations. One may call it a “bridge over the sea of uncertainty.” Distrust is a pessimistic bet: those actions of the other will be harmful, disappoint our expectations. It is a prediction of “being harassed, threatened, harmed, subjugated, persecuted, accused, mistreated, wronged, tormented, disparaged, or vilified by the other” (Kramer 2004, 141). Distrust is a “wall against the threat of uncertainty.” Taking action based on hypothetical belief, like in all bets, implies risk. The risk of trusting is that I will not get what I wanted, or that I will not regain a property or value I have entrusted. The risk of distrust is that I will pay unnecessary costs of surveillance and protection, that by avoidance or separation from the other I will forgo the opportunities of valuable relation, that my preemptive action will provoke retaliation, which would not have happened otherwise, and hence will start a vicious cycle of growing animosities. The beliefs about the target of distrust may be arranged along a certain scale. The other may be conceived as an inhuman monster, which demands extermination. Such definition easily leads to genocide, because it releases the fundamental moral constraint, which people normally experience when harming other people (Bauman 1989). A bit less viciously, the other may be defined as the enemy threatening us, who therefore must be defeated (harmed, weakened, disarmed). A definition of the other as merely alien, different in ways hard to accept, but not directly threatening our well-being implies the need for separation or isolation. The results are various measures of segregation, ethnic cleansing, apartheid, erecting ghettoes. If other is treated as a stranger, he/she is grudgingly tolerated, under the condition of respecting our values, ways of life, customs, and Gods. This is sometimes referred to as a negative tolerance. “Live and let live” is the motto of the policy of multiculturalism. The most beneficial case is treating the other as a neighbor. This implies the acceptance and use of difference as enriching our own resources of information, knowledge, skills, and competences. Sometimes we speak of positive tolerance. The way out of deep conflict is the gradual deconstruction of the image of the other which may move through consecutive steps: from monster to mere enemy, from enemy to alien, from alien to stranger—and eventually to neighbor. But whether this process is feasible depends on the strength of beliefs about the other. The dynamics of weakening conflict is hard to start if the distrust is paranoid, insulated against any arguments. Such bad expectations about the other become particularly resistant when supported by religion, ideology, or primordial nationalism. The extreme case has been described by social psychologists as a “groupthink” phenomenon (Janis 1982). “Trust often begins and ends at the social category or group boundary” (Kramer 2004, 138). In the intergroup conflict the beliefs about others become rooted at each side in emotions of group solidarity, loyalty, sharing with “us” and rejecting “them”. This easily becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy when rejected, others naturally respond with hostility, which seems to confirm the wisdom of initial rejection. “People reveal more altruism and reciprocity toward members of their own group even when the group is purely categorical and thus devoid of social interaction, than toward members of another 18 P. Sztompka group” (Foddy and Yamagishi 2009, 37). There is always a bonus of extra trust toward “we”, and the handicap of stronger distrust toward “them”. To discuss the ways and measures to eradicate distrust it is necessary to see how distrust emerges, what is its genealogy? Distrust, like trust, rests on three “legs”. First is the rational calculus, low estimation of trustworthiness of the other party. It takes into account six factors. First, the reputation; history of earlier deeds, experiences in earlier contacts with the partner. Here distrust is predicated upon a specific history of interaction with the other (Rotter 1980). The asymmetry mentioned earlier reappears here: impeccable reputation over a long period of time is needed to obtain trust, whereas single dishonesty, disloyalty, or any hostile gesture produce distrust. Trust is a “fragile” resource. Second, we may take into account the credentials; second-hand warnings, direct or indirect evidence by trusted referees, symbols of threatening status. Third, the appearance matters, i.e., external signs of untrustworthiness or hostile intentions. Fourth, we may observe the actual untrustworthy or hostile performance, actions taken by the distrusted other. Fifth, we may refer to “encapsulated interest” of the other (Hardin 2002, 3–9), by putting ourselves in the role of the enemy and empathically imagining the vested interest of the partner in cheating or harming oneself. Six, we may examine the environment of conflict with emphasis on the lack of accountability, when untrustworthiness cannot be easily punished and trust enforced. The second “leg” on which distrust rests is purely psychological, beyond the purview of sociology. This is pervasive suspiciousness, a personality trait engendered by ineffective early socialization as well as later bad experiences in public life, in extreme cases leading to paranoid distrust. The crucially important third “leg” is cultural (Sztompka 1999, 119–138), the widespread distrust culture (captured in common parlance by metaphors such as bad social climate, hostile atmosphere, low morale). More precisely by distrust culture I mean shared, constraining, seemingly “external” social fact (Durkheim 1964 [1895]). It consists of a common belief about the other articulated in stereotypes, prejudices, myths, rumors, gossips, xenophobia and expressed in hostile actions. The emergence of distrust culture is likely if any of the four conditions are obtained (and of course even more likely, if all of them are to be found together). First condition is the emotion or mood of existential insecurity produced by the anomie (normative chaos), anarchy, inefficiency of public institutions, unpredictability of the future. Second is the instability, undermining of routines, rapid, traumatogenic change brought about by the conflict (Alexander et al. 2004). Third conducive factor is the secrecy and nontransparency of the actions and intentions of the other party (Hardin 2004). Fourth is the perception of the futility of measures taken against the untrustworthy partner, visible lack of accountability and responsibility for hostile actions, inefficiency of law enforcement and retaliatory measures. If distrust is rooted in rational evidence (even if subjectively exaggerated or biased) and spreading in society as a culture of suspicion, the changing of such a condition, weakening distrust, and rebuilding trust is very hard. The possible strategies and tactics may take two directions: become focused on the relationship of mutual distrust, or target on the structural context of conflict. And in both cases 2 Two Theoretical Approaches to Trust; Their Implications … 19 the attempts to disarm the conflict may be taken by the parties themselves or invoke the third parties as mediators. For analytic purposes let us look at the situation of conflict first from the point of view of a party which distrusts, and then from the point of view of a distrusted party. A party which distrusts can resort to two strategies and the implementation of each depends on the construal of the distrusted. The negative strategy of violent prevention or armed defense aims at raising the costs of untrustworthy conduct. If it is targeted on the other defined as enemy, it is manifested in coercion, enforcing trustworthiness by power, sanctions, deterrence, stronger vigilance and surveillance, preemptive strikes. This is not always feasible and on many occasions self-defeating because it only feeds the vicious spiral of hostility, producing even more distrust. The strategy differs if the other is perceived not as the enemy but merely alien. The measures taken toward untrustworthy aliens come down to the avoidance of contacts, segregation, defensive nonparticipation, breaking of relations. This is not always possible and particularly hard in the conditions of common settlement, close neighborhood, long cohabitation, kinship ties, division of labor. Russell Hardin refers to such conditions as “trapped relationships” (Hardin 2002, 92). Another option are the positive strategies: instead of the defense against untrustworthiness, signals of tentative trust. They may take the form of small scale, piecemeal, incremental testing of untrustworthiness by revocable decisions (without “burning bridges”), e.g., a temporary truce, cooperation in some limited domain, creating small islands of cooperation and mutual recognition. Such gestures of trust are of course less risky for a stronger party, which has more resources for damage control if moves of trusting prove futile. Another strategy is assuming the rule of reciprocity and relying on the evocative trust, i.e., the obligation to become trustworthy if one receives unconditional, one-sided trust from a partner (Sztompka 1999, 28). In the conditions of conflict, this requires more risky, dramatic, conciliatory, gestures manifestly raising the vulnerability of the benevolent party. This may consist, for example, in resigning of some protections, releasing prisoners, partly disarming itself, opening the isolating boundaries, and stopping segregation. Of course again only the stronger party can afford the risk of cynical abusing the opportunity by the opposite party in order to get the upper hand and gain advantage in the conflict. The above strategies are open to the party, which distrusts the other. On the other hand, a party which is distrusted may attempt to modify the beliefs of the partner by providing some evidence of competence, or honesty, or sympathy, or even altruism by means of unilateral moves and signs of good will. Proving his/her trustworthiness; “a person can do something out of ordinary that would not otherwise be expected if he/she were untrustworthy” (Luhmann 1979, 42). Such gestures demonstrating trustworthiness may initiate a sustainable process of mutual trust and cooperation. It is known as a “graduated reciprocation in tension reduction” (GRIT strategy) (Osgood 1962). Of course if the distrust is mutual, as is most often the case, each party is at the same time distrusting and distrusted, and thus all strategies may be relevant and used together, in the best circumstances as mutually complementary. 20 P. Sztompka Both parties to conflict may also resort to the third party with some legitimacy, authority, or power recognized by both (international organizations, institutions of regional integration, hegemonic powers, famous charismatic leaders). They may be helpful in two ways: through mediation and through reshaping the context of conflict. Mediation may take various directions. First, it may aim at clarifying some mutual misperceptions and stereotypes by fact-oriented arguments, certifying at least potential trustworthiness of both parties. Second, it may attempt to demonstrate some common interest of both parties in stopping hostilities and emphasize the raised costs of escalation. Here the mediation changes the perception of incentives. Third, it may promote some higher level values or superordinate goals over the value differences, and the clash of purposes. The mediator may argue for religious ecumenism, or regional solidarity, or basic humanity. The fourth strategy is the fragmentation of the contested issues, showing that the conflict is not overall and promoting cooperation in some, selected areas whose risk is miniscule because incentives to cheat are small. The third party may also make attempts to reshape the context of conflict, the environment in which the conflict develops. Again there are several possible measures. First is raising accountability and responsibility of both parties before the third party, embracing them by a common regime of rules and rule enforcement. Second, diluting the rigid distinction of “we” and “them” by facilitating bridging ties, flows, and mobility through the boundaries of groups. Third, providing opportunities for attractive common ventures, e.g., profitable trade, sport events and competitions, art festivals, regional folk markets. Fourth, guaranteeing the stability of the situation by demonstrating consistency and permanency of long-range policies adopted by the third party vis-à-vis parties in conflict. Fifth, revitalizing, ordering, and aesthetically improving the environment of everyday life to raise existential security and overcome the emotions of gloom and hopelessness. And sixth, as a sort of meta-principle, all the policies and decisions described above must be made as transparent as possible. All this requires a lot of ingenuity, commitment, and good will of both parties to the conflict, as well as the intervening third parties. But I wish to end with a ray of hope. “There is evidence that the barriers to trust, though formidable are not insurmountable. The knot of distrust, if not untied completely, can at least be loosened” (Kramer 2004, 150). Optimism in this regard, as optimism in general, may have a self-fulfilling impact mobilizing the search for trust-building measures and in effect attenuating the conflict. The alternative is hopelessness and despair. References Alexander, J., Eyerman, R., Giesen, B., Smelser, N., & Sztompka, P. (2004). Cultural trauma and collective identity. Berkeley: California University Press. Bauman, Z. (1989). Modernity and the Holocaust. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Cleary, M. R., & Stokes, S. C. (2006). Democracy and the culture of scepticism. New York: Russell Sage. Durkheim, E. (1964) (1895). The rules of sociological method. New York: Free Press. 2 Two Theoretical Approaches to Trust; Their Implications … 21 Foddy, M., & Yamagishi, T. (2009). Group-based trust. In K. Cook, M. Levy, & R. Hardin (Eds.), Whom can we trust? (pp. 17–41). New York: Russell Sage. Fukuyama, F. (1995). Trust: The social virtues and the creation of prosperity. New York: The Free Press. Hardin, R. (2002). Trust and trustworthiness. New York: Russell Sage. Hardin R. (2004). Terrorism and group-generated distrust. In: R. Hardin (Ed.), Distrust (pp. 278– 297). New York: Russell Sage. Janis, I. (1982). Victims of groupthink. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Kramer, R. (2004). Collective paranoia: Distrust between social groups. In R. Hardin (Ed.), Distrust (pp. 136–167). New York: Russell Sage. Kramer, R., & Cook, K. (Eds.). (2004). Trust and distrust in organizations. New York: Russell Sage. Luhmann, N. (1979). Trust and power. New York: John Wiley. Merton, R. (1996) [1948]. The self-fulfilling prophecy. In: R. K. Merton, & P. Sztompka (Eds.), On social structure and science (pp. 183–204). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Osgood, C. (1962). An alternative to war and surrender. Urbana Champaign: University of Illinois Press. Papakostas, A. (2012). Civilizing the public sphere: Distrust, trust and corruption. New York: Palgrave. Putnam, R. (1993). Making democracy work. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Rotter, J. (1980). Interpersonal trust, trustworthiness, and gullibility. American Psychologist, 35, 1–7. Sztompka, P. (1999). Trust: A sociological theory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chapter 3 Effects of Expectations, Type of Relationship, and Prior Injustice on Trust Honoring: A Strategic-Experimental Approach Ramzi Suleiman Introduction Trust is essential to the conduct of social life, and as long as people have the power to influence the costs and benefits accrued to other people, trust will remain an inherent part of social interactions. The importance of trust to interpersonal relations and social life in general cannot be overstated. It goes far beyond the context of close relationships and friendships. In the most extreme case, a stranger we encounter in a street can harm us. Thus, even as simple and commonplace a behavior as walking in a city street, involves trust. In organizational settings, trust has been identified as a key factor in maintaining harmonious relationships (Kramer 1999). In intergroup contexts, trust has been conceptualized as an intergroup emotion (Brewer and Alexander 2002), the restoration of which will promote good-will towards outgroup members and reduce suspicion towards them (Lewicki and Wiethoff 2000). Trust giving in intergroup and international conflicts is important for reconciliation and peace (e.g., Nadler and Saguy 2003; Noor et al. 2008). According to Nadler and Liviatan (2004) generalized distrust is a common emotional consequence of protracted violent conflicts, and is often harmful to reconciliation. Distrust usually consists of expectations that outgroup members have bad intentions towards the ingroup (Mitchell 2000). Findings attesting to the negative effects of lack of trust in the context of the protracted Israeli-Palestinian conflict were reported by several studies. As example, research has found a positive association of Jewish-Israeli trust in Palestinians with R. Suleiman (&) Department of Psychology, University of Haifa, Haifa, Israel e-mail: suleiman@psy.haifa.ac.il R. Suleiman Department of Philosophy, Al Quds University, Abu Dis, Israel © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_3 23 24 R. Suleiman sympathy toward Palestinians, as well as with higher support for compromise and reconciliation with Palestinians (Maoz and McCauley 2005, 2009; Nadler and Liviatan 2006). A convincing experimental support for the central role of trust in reconciliation and forgiveness in ethnic conflicts was reported by Noor et al. (2008) who found that trust was among the main social psychological variables involved in intergroup forgiveness between the pro-Pinochet and the anti-Pinochet groups in Chile, and between Protestants and Catholics in Northern Irland. In the context of societal and communal relations, Robert Putnam, a highly accredited academic and thinker, stressed the importance of trust as one of the core elements of social capital, which, in turn, constitutes an essential condition for the development of civil society. By social capital Putnam means “connections among individuals—social networks and the norms of reciprocity and trustworthiness that arise from them.” (Putnam 2000, 19). According to Putnam, the construction of “social capital” and civil society require a satisfactory level of trust between the individuals who constitute the collective. Kiyonari et al. (2006) view trust as an important form of social capital that facilitates social interaction and exchange. In general, the concept of trust reflects a belief that others will act in a reciprocal way that will benefit (or not harm) oneself (Yuki et al. 2005). Therefore, trust is typically called for in situations of uncertainty and high risk where others have the potential to gain at one’s expense, but can choose not to do so (Yuki et al. 2005). The Israeli–Palestinian conflict is viewed by many Israeli Jews as a high-risk situation in which there is high-potential Palestinian threat (Bar-Tal 2001). Trust is also a key concept in political science. Fenno (1978) and Bianco (1994) argue that trust is central for defining the relationship between representatives and their constituents. Ostrom (1998a, b) points out that trust is crucial for solving many common property resource dilemmas. Among strangers, trust is considered to be the glue that holds together social relations (see e.g., Putnam 2000; Hardin 2002). In the philosophical and social psychological literatures trust is usually defined according to two parameters: Reliance of the person who gives trust on the person who receives it and expectation of fair treatment, formed by the giver concerning the response of the recipient (e.g., Baier 1986; Govier 1993, 1994; Horsburgh 1960; Schlenker et al. 1973; Thomas 1978). According to this definition the aforementioned two ingredients constitute the necessary conditions for the emergence of trust. According to Coleman (1990), “Situations involving trust constitute a subclass of those involving risk. They are situations in which the risk one takes depends on the performance of another actor” (Coleman 1990, 91). In situations in which people must decide between a risky and a non-risky option, they are able to choose the risky option whether they believe that the probability that it will yield gains is high, moderate or low. Similarly, and in line with Coleman’s definition, there is no requirement that the trust giver should expect a fair treatment from the trust recipient. A person may decide to give trust whether he or she expects fair treatment, unfair treatment, or more than fair treatment. Furthermore, the above mentioned definition of trust leaves open the possibility that the trust giver may have no expectation whatsoever when taking the social risk. Defining trust as a behavioral gesture enables us to retain the theoretical framework associated with the trust 3 Effects of Expectations, Type of Relationship, and Prior … 25 concept, while manipulating the expectation variable and measuring its influence on social interactions that involve reliance of one person on another. A Strategic-Experimental Approach for Investigating Trust In the present chapter we take a strategic-experimental approach. The workhorse utilized here is the famous two-player trust game. In the one-period trust game one player (the investor) is given an amount of money, e.g., one monetary unit, and is requested to transfer any amount between zero and the entire amount to the second player (the responder). The amount transferred is multiplied by a factor a greater than one (in most experiments a = 3). Following, the second player is requested to return to the investor any sum, between zero and the entire multiplied amount. The game-theoretic approach to human and animal interactions relies on the economic rationality assumption that in any interaction, each “player” involved in the interaction will strive to maximize his or her own utility function, where such utility is non-decreasing in payoff. For the simple case of risk-neutral players, the theory prescribes that each player will maximize his own payoff, while paying no attention to the payoffs of others who are involved in the interaction. Thus, for the trust game described above, game theory predicts that a rational self-interested investor will transfer nothing, and a rational responder will return nothing in case any amount of money was transferred. Another theory of strategic interactions, which I have proposed recently as an alternative model for microeconomic interactions, is termed “economic harmony” theory (Suleiman 2014a, b; Suleiman 2017). The theory postulates that instead of maximizing the utilities of their payoffs, rational players strive to balance between their subjective utilities, where such utilities are defined as their actual payoffs relative to their maximal aspired payoffs. In philosophical terms, standard game theory takes an ontic approach, while economic harmony adopts an epistemic approach (e.g., Fetzer 1993). Moreover, while game theory looks at points of equilibrium in the game, economic harmony theory solves for points of harmony, in which the players’ subjective utilities are equal. Application of the theory to several strategic interactions, including the prisoner’s dilemma game, the common pool resource game, and the ultimatum game, yields excellent predictions of experimental data (Suleiman 2014a, b; Suleiman 2017). Quite interestingly, for the ultimatum game economic harmony theory predicts a division of (U, 1 − U) for the proposer and responder, respectively, where U  0.618, is the famous Golden Ratio (Livio 2002; Olsen 2006). In contrast, the game-theoretic prediction, prescribes that the proposer should keep almost the entire amount, and offer the smallest share possible to the responder. Numerous experiments on ultimatum bargaining show that despite cultural differences and other sources of variability between samples, the mean reported divisions are about (0.6, 0.4) to the proposer and responder, respectively (Suleiman 1996; Oosterbeek et al. 2004; Henrich et al. 2006). The solution of 26 R. Suleiman economic harmony does not only fit the data much better than the standard game-theoretic model, it is also more aesthetic and equitable, two attributes that seem to fit well together in human perception and behavior (Suleiman 2014c; Diessner et al. 2009). For the trust game, standard game theory predicts that rational investors should never transfer anything to the recipients, and rational recipients should not return anything when trusted. In contrast, economic harmony theory predicts that a harmonic solution is achieved when the investor transfers all the endowment regardless of the multiplication factor, ending the game with equal payoffs of a2 e, where e is the investor’s endowment and a is the multiplication (interest) factor. Interestingly, this cooperative solution is collectively best as it maximizes the sum of the players’ subjective utilities (Suleiman, in preparation). An experimental test of the above prediction is currently underway. However, a post hoc comparison of the above prediction with existing data reveals that it is significantly better than the game-theoretic equilibrium model, which predicts zero investment, and zero return in case the investor sends money. For example, the findings reported by Berg et al. (1995), who implemented a multiplication factor of a = 3, reveal that the amounts sent and returned were significantly higher than zero. On average investors sent $5.2 out of their $10 endowment, with 5 out of 32 sending the entire amount. Moreover, the money returned was substantial and positively correlated with the amount of the investment. In another experiment (Kosfeld et al. 2005) on the effects of oxytocin on trust using a = 3 and an endowment of e = 12 monetary units (MUs), the same pattern emerged. The money returned was an increasing function of the investment. The reported mean investments were 9.6 and 8.1 MUs for the oxytocin and placebo conditions, respectively, with many investors transferring their entire endowment, particularly under the oxytocin condition, where the majority of investors transferred their entire endowment. Experimental Studies on the Trust Game An interesting question in the experimental literature on the trust game is whether the receiving of trust, per se, is sufficient for facilitating a cooperative social behavior from the trust recipient. The standard game-theoretic model predicts that trust in itself will have no effect on the amount of transfer, such that the amount transferred in the trust game will be similar, on average, to the amount transferred in a dictator game in which a “dictator” (compared to a trust recipient) is asked to allocate the entire multiplied amount between himself or herself and a passive recipient. Game theory predicts that the amount transferred will be negligible if any. However, many experimental findings refute the standard game-theoretic model. Participants in the role of investors usually transfer substantial portions of 3 Effects of Expectations, Type of Relationship, and Prior … 27 the entire amount to the recipients (Berg et al. 1995), who usually return a substantial amount of the enlarged amount. The few studies on this question do not enable us to draw a clear-cut conclusion. Dufwenberg and Gneezy (2000) tried to determine the effect of trust on the recipient using a “lost wallet game.” In their experiment, Player 1 had to decide whether or not to let Player 2 divide 20 NGL between the two. If Player 1 trusted Player 2 (i.e., gave Player 2 the opportunity to divide 20 NGL), then Player 2’s allocation determined the final payoffs that each player received. Player 2 could take the entire 20 NGL to himself or herself and leave nothing to Player 1. On the other hand, Player 2 could divide less selfishly (e.g., 10 NGL to each player). In this experiment, there were two conditions for the role of Player 2. In the trust condition Player 2 knew that only if Player 1 will trust him or her, then his or her allocation of 20 NGL will determine the final amounts that each player will receive. The control condition was a dictator game (Camerer and Thaler 1995), in which Player 2 (the Dictator) knew that his or her allocation of 20 NGL will determine the final amounts that each player will receive. Dufwenberg and Gneezy’s results did not show any effect of the trust manipulation on the allocations that were made by the participants in the role of Player 2. Another attempt to test the effect of trust on the behavior of the recipient was undertaken by Berg et al. (1995). In their trust game, Player 1 and Player 2 started with an initial sum of $10 each. Next, Player 1 could give Player 2 any amount between 0 and $10, while knowing that this amount will be tripled in the hands of Player 2. For example, if Player 1 decided to give Player 2 the entire $10, then Player 1 was left with 0 and Player 2 received additional $30 (= 3  $10), and finished with $40 (the initial $10 plus the additional $30). After Player 1 decides how much money to give Player 2, Player 2 has to decide how much money to give back to Player 1. This amount could vary between the minimum of 0 and the maximum of the total amount that Player 2 has. The results of this study failed to detect a significant correlation between the amount sent from Player 1 to Player 2, and the percentage that Player 2 gave back to Player 1 (r = 0.01). Therefore, in this experiment too, no evidence was found for an effect of trust giving per se, on the behavior of the recipient. In a follow-up study, Berg et al. (1995) presented to new participants a table that summarized the results of the study described above, and then implemented the same procedure as in their first study. In this experiment, a moderate correlation (r = 0.34) was detected between the amount sent from Player 1 to Player 2, and the percentage that Player 2 sent back to Player 1. In another study, using fMRI imaging techniques, McCabe (2003) demonstrated that more cooperative decisions are made by trust recipients than by dictators. In sum, the existing literature reveals mixed results concerning the hypothesis that receiving trust elicits cooperative behavior. In some studies more cooperative decisions were made by trust recipients than by dictators (e.g., McCabe 2003). In 28 R. Suleiman other studies either no effect for trust was detected (e.g., Dufwenberg and Gneezy 2000), or the effect was only partial (e.g., Berg et al. 1995). Effects of Cognitive, Motivational, and Contextual Variables on Trust Honoring In a series of studies we investigated the effects of several cognitive, motivational, and context related variables that might affect the behavior of trust recipients. Specifically, we investigated the effects of three moderating variables on the reaction of trust recipients: (1) the expectations of the investor, as perceived by the trust recipient, (2) The recipient’s types of empowerment (trust recipient/dictator) and relationship with the investor (partners/opponents), and (3) Prior injustice enacted on the trust recipient. We discuss each variable in turn. Effects of Investors’ Expectations on Trust Honoring In a study conducted by Eilam and Suleiman (2004) we tested whether the knowledge of the true expectations of the trust giver would affect the allocation decision of the rust recipient. In the aforementioned study, we made a theoretical distinction between three types of trusting situations, depending on the trust giver’s expectation. In selfish trust (cf. Govier 1992) the trust givers expected recipients to react in a manner that benefits the givers at their own expense. In cooperative trust the givers expected the recipients to react in a way that equally benefits both parties. In pure trust the trust giver did not express any expectations regarding the reaction of the trust recipient. We tested the hypothesis that selfish trust, in comparison with either cooperative or pure trust, would elicit the most selfish reactions from trust recipients. One theory that provided a rationale for our hypothesis is reactance theory (Brehm 1966). In expecting to receive more than an equal share, the trust giver puts considerable pressure on the recipient, and the latter may therefore display reactance and refuse to comply with the expectation. A second rationale supporting our hypothesis concerns the violation of prosocial norms. We conjectured that selfish expectations communicate a desire to violate distributive justice norms (Clark and Pataki 1995) and thus might be punished by the trust recipient. An expectation expressed by trust givers for an above-equal share may be seen by trust recipients as unjust and consequently may elicit punishing reactions that are independent of any greed-related consideration. Based on the above rationales, we predicted that the reaction of trust recipients would be more selfish in conditions of selfish trust than in conditions of either cooperative or pure trust. These rationales are less “straightforward” regarding whether the reactions of trust recipients would differ between the conditions of 3 Effects of Expectations, Type of Relationship, and Prior … 29 cooperative and pure trust, as neither condition is expected to evoke either reactance or sanctioning of equality norm violation. Still, cooperative trust may elicit prosocial reciprocity and may activate constructs related to equality and deactivate constructs related to selfishness. Pure trust, on the other hand, can be conceived as a “default situation” and is presumed to elicit from trust recipients reactions that correspond to their natural reaction to trust. Therefore the question we posed was: what is the default reaction to trust. Is it cooperative as implied by the research on the equality norm? (e.g., Messick 1993), or, alternatively, selfish as implied by the rational-economic theory and the research on the self-interest norm? (e.g., Miller 1999). We hypothesized that the default lies somewhere in between the norm of equality and the norm of self-interest, and therefore we predicted that reactions to pure trust will be more cooperative than reactions to selfish trust, but less cooperative than reactions to cooperative trust. In the above-mentioned experiment groups of six participants were invited to each experimental session. Upon arrival they were randomly matched to form three dyads. Following, they were told that a second random draw will determine who in each dyad will play the role of investor, and who will play the role of recipient. In fact, the information given was bogus, and all the participants were told that the random draw has assigned them to the role of recipients. In addition, they were told that the (fictitious) investor has to decide between two options: (1) that each of the two participants would receive 10 NIS and the experiment would then be terminated, and (2) that Player 2 would allocate 50 NIS as he or she wished between the two participants, after which the experiment would be terminated. The option ostensibly chosen by Player 1 was hand-marked on the printed instruction sheet. This was done in order to enhance the impression that a decision had actually been made by another participant. All participants were informed that Player 1 had chosen the second option. A separate sheet that was stapled behind the previous one informed the participants about the expectation of Player 1. As in the previous sheet, the instructions were printed while the expectation of Player 1 was hand-checked. Under the high expectation condition participants were informed that Player 1 expected Player 2 to allocate 40 NIS to Player 1 and 10 NIS to Player 2. Under the equal expectation condition, participants were informed that Player 1 expected Player 2 to allocate 25 NIS to Player 1 and 25 NIS to Player 2, and under the pure-trust condition no information was given to Player 2 about the expectation of Player 1. On the same instruction sheet participants were requested to state their allocation of 50 NIS by checking the amount they chose to allocate to themselves, and the amount they chose to allocate to Player 1. The instructions stressed that the total sum allocated to both participants should equal 50 NIS. After completing the allocation, each participant was paid the amounts he/she allocated to himself/herself, probed for suspicion and left the laboratory without seeing any of the other participants. Fig. 3.1 depicts the distribution of allocations to the trust giver in each of the expectation conditions and Table 3.1. Depicts the means and standard deviations of the amounts (out of 50 NIS) allocated to the other participant (the fictitious player) under the different expectation conditions. 30 R. Suleiman Fig. 3.1 Distribution of allocations to the trust giver in each of the expectation conditions 100 80 60 40 Trust condition No expectation 20 Equal expectation High expectation 0 0 .0 40 0 .0 25 0 .0 24 0 .0 23 0 .0 20 0 .0 18 0 .0 15 0 .0 11 0 .0 10 00 9. 00 5. 0 .0 Allocation to the trust giver Table 3.1 Means (and standard deviations) of returned money (in NIS) under different expectation conditions Allocation to the trust giver Standard deviation N = 88 Trust condition Selfish (high expectation) Cooperative (equal expectation) Pure (no expectation) 17.55 23.03 23.15 (9.10) n = 31 (4.87) n = 30 (7.34) n = 27 Statistical analysis (for details see Eilam and Suleiman 2004) revealed that in line with our hypothesis, allocations in the high expectations condition were significantly more self-favoring than allocations in the equal expectations condition (p < 0.007). Also, in line with the hypothesis, allocations in the high expectation condition were significantly more self-favoring than allocations in the no-expectations condition (p < 0.007). The hypothesized difference in allocations between the equal- and no-expectation conditions was not supported (p > 0.998). Effect of Contextual Variables on Trust Honoring We have recently conducted a series of experiments designed to test the effects some contextual and personality variables on trust honoring (Suleiman and Eilam 2016). In all experiments we focused on the behavior of the trust recipient. In the first experiment we replicated the Eilam and Suleiman (2004) study summarized above and reexamined the effect of trust per se, together with its interaction with the investor’s expectations on trust honoring. Specifically, we tested the effect of the 3 Effects of Expectations, Type of Relationship, and Prior … 31 Table 3.2 Means (and standard deviations) of money returned to the investor as functions of the investor’s empowerment type and expectation Empowerment Trust Dictator Total Expectation Low (10 NIS) High (40 NIS) Total 13.85 (8.70) n = 13 11.88 (9.46) n = 16 12.76 (9.02) n = 29 18.46 (9.44) n = 13 8.29 (8.48) n = 14 13.19 (10.19) n = 27 16.15 (9.20) n = 26 10.20 (9.05) n = 30 12.96 (9.52) N = 56 recipient’s type of empowerment (trust recipient/dictator) and his expectations (high/low) on trust honoring. The investor in the experiment, as in all the experiments to be summarized hereafter was fictitious. We hypothesized that trust will foster compliance with the expectations of the investor. We further hypothesized that the amount of money returned to the investor in the high expectation condition would be higher in the trust condition than in the no-trust condition, and that the reverse pattern will emerge under the low expectation condition. Sixty-two students at the University of Haifa participated in this experiment. We used a 2  2 between subjects design, with the cause of empowerment (trust vs. dictator), and the investor’s expectation (low vs. high) as independent variables and the amount returned to the investor from a total sum of 50 NIS as the dependent variable. In the trust condition, the participants played a standard trust game, while in the dictator condition, participants were informed that a simple gamble determined that he or she allocates 50 NIS between himself/herself and the counterpart. Participants were informed about the expectation of the other participant before allocating the money. In the high expectation condition they were informed that in an answer to a question that we asked him/her, the other participant indicated that s/he expects that the participant will allocate 40 NIS to him/her and will take 10 NIS to himself/herself. In the low expectation condition the same phrasing was used, with the sole difference that the 10 NIS and 40 NIS switched hands. Results The results of this experiment are depicted in Table 3.2. A two-way analysis of variance revealed a main effect of empowerment on allocations (F(1,52) = 6.265, p < 0.016). Allocation to the counterpart was higher in the trust condition than in the dictator condition (see Table 3.2). The analysis yielded no main effect of expectations (F < 1). A marginally significant interaction effect of empowerment and expectation on allocations 32 R. Suleiman (F(1,52) = 2.858, p < 0.098) was found. In a simple-effects analysis no effect was found for expectation in either the dictator condition (t(28) = 1.087, p > 0.286), or the trust condition (t(24) = 1.297, p > 0.207). However, as hypothesized, a second set of simple effects analyses revealed that in the high expectation condition allocations to the counterpart were significantly higher in the trust condition than in the dictator condition (t(25) = 2.951, p < 0.008). In the low expectation condition the hypothesized reverse pattern was not found, as no effect was found for empowerment on allocations (t(27) = 0.578, p > 0.586). In the second experiment we focused on the low expectations condition. We manipulated the type of empowerment (trust recipient/dictator), and the type of relationship between the investor and the recipient, which was framed either as “partner” or “opponent.” We hypothesized that the “opponent” condition would yield more self-favoring allocations under the trust than under the dictator condition. We also hypothesized that across the two empowerment conditions, more equal allocations will be found under the partners condition, than under the opponents condition. Forty-eight students of the University of Haifa participated in this experiment in a 2  2 between subjects design. One independent variable was the source of empowerment (trust vs. dictator), and the second independent variable was the type of relationship between the two sides (partners vs. opponents). The dependent variable was the amount allocated to the other player from the total amount of 50 NIS. The experimental design and procedure are detailed in (Suleiman and Eilam 2016). The resulting mean allocations to the other player as a function of empowerment and relationship type are depicted in Table 3.3. A significant empowerment by relationship interaction (F(1,35) = 24.735, p < 0.042) was found. The main effects of empowerment and relationship type were both insignificant (F < 1). However, a contrasts analysis yielded significantly higher allocations in the trust condition than in the dictator condition (F (1,35) = 4.245, p < 0.048). Simple-effects analyses of the interaction effect were conducted using contrasts analyses, which tested the difference in allocations as a function of empowerment, in each level of relationship type. In the “partner” condition, the contrasts analysis revealed a marginally significant effect of empowerment (F(1,16) = 4.069, p < 0.062), according to which Table 3.3 Means (and standard deviations) of returns to investors with low expectations (in NIS) as functions of empowerment and relationship types Empowerment type Trust Dictator Total Relationship type Partners Opponents Total 18.89 (8.58) n=9 14.58 (10.10) n = 12 16.43 (9.51) n = 21 17.25 (7.86) n = 20 15.83 (8.93) n = 24 16.48 (8.39) N = 44 15.91 (7.35) n = 11 17.08 (7.82) n = 12 16.52 (7.45) n = 23 3 Effects of Expectations, Type of Relationship, and Prior … 33 allocations to the counterpart in this condition were higher in the trust condition than in the dictator condition. In the “opponent” condition, the contrasts analysis yielded no effect of empowerment on allocations (F < 1). In the third experiment we compared the effect of empowerment (trust recipient vs. dictator) under two condition of a prior injustice committed against the trust recipient. In one condition the participants were informed that the “prior injustice” was not committed by the investor (unintentional), while in the second condition subjects were informed that the prior injustice was intentionally committed by the investor. Seventy-seven students from the University of Haifa participated in the experiment. The dependent variable in the experiment was the amount allocated to the other from the total amount of 50 NIS. The experimental design and procedure are detailed in (Suleiman and Eilam 2016). Our main predictions were the following: (1) the mean return to the investors under unintentional injustice condition will be higher than the mean return under the intentional injustice condition. (2) The mean return under the trust condition will be higher than the mean return under the no-trust (dictator) condition. The main results of this experiment revealed that the mean allocation to the counterpart (in NIS) as a function of the source of injustice. As predicted, a significant main effect for the cause of injustice was detected [F(1,73) = 8.94, p = 0.004]. No main effect of trust was found. Rather, the results revealed an interaction between trust and the cause of injustice [F(1,73) = 4.26, p = 0.043]. Figure 3.2 depicts the mean allocation for the counterpart, as a function of the source of injustice for each experimental condition. As the figure shows, the cause of injustice affected allocations only in the trust condition, but not in the dictator condition. 25 Mean Allocation 20 15 10 Trust condition 5 Dictator 0 Trust Computer Source of injustice Fig. 3.2 Trust  source of injustice interaction Counterpart 34 R. Suleiman Summary and Main Conclusions In this article, we took a strategic-experimental approach to infer about the effects of various cognitive and contextual antecedents on the reactions of trust recipients. We described the trust game usually implemented in this line of research and discussed two relevant theoretical approaches, the standard game-theoretic approach and a recently proposed approach based on the concept of balance or harmony. We also reviewed some of the experimental literature on the trust game and summarized the results of a recent research project in which we investigated the effects of some contextual antecedents on trust honoring. Our main findings could be summarized as follows: (1) Trust recipients responded to trust invested in them by returning fair amounts of money back to the investors, but this occurred only when the investors expressed unselfish expectations, or had no expectations, but not when the investors expressed selfish expectations. (2) In comparison to a dictator game condition, the act of trust per se caused the trust recipients to return more money to the investors. However, this effect was significant only when the investors were portrayed as “partners,” but not when they were portrayed as “opponents,” (3) Prior injustice enacted upon the recipients resulted in less than equal returns from their side, only when the act of injustice was done by the investor, but not when it was the result of mere chance. Based on the above summary of results, we might conjecture that in real-life situation we might expect that in general trust could motivate trusted people to honor the trust bestowed in them. However, trust does not always foster trust honoring. High expectations expressed by the trust giver could be harmful to trust honoring and consequently to trust building. More important for the issues discussed in this volume, our finding suggest that people who perceive the trust giver as an opponent, or as one who had committed a prior act of injustice against them, might be less willing to reciprocate positively to the trust invested in them. Generalization from two-person situations involving trust to n-person situations, let alone to intergroup and international relations must be taken with care. However, there is evidence suggesting that people in groups become more willing to keep promises and honor trust in order to elevate their moral stand, or to avoid a negative reputation (Berg et al. 1995; Mui et al. 2002; Chang et al. 2005). Moreover, generalized positive and negative reciprocity in groups are known to be powerful forces in the evolution of cooperation and trust (Jones and George 1998; Macy and Skvoretz 1998; McNamara et al. 2009). Applying the strategic-experimental approach to trust in intergroup relations and conflicts is far more complicated than the two-player interaction discussed here. However, the dyadic interaction might be useful for investigating trust in intergroup situations in which the groups are represented by unitary delegates. For such cases, computer simulations similar to the ones used to study the evolution of intergroup conflicts (e.g., Suleiman and Fischer 1996; Fischer and Suleiman 1997) might be utilized to investigate the evolution of trust in intergroup conflicts. 3 Effects of Expectations, Type of Relationship, and Prior … 35 We finally note that in reality, situations are not sterile as those constructed in the laboratory. Trust recipients usually do not have full information about the expectations of investors. However, we contend that trust recipients might be able to use personality and situational cues to infer about the expectations and motives of those who trusted them. 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The duty to trust. Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 79, 89–101. Yuki, M., Maddux, W. W., Brewer, M., & Takemura, K. (2005). Cross-cultural differences in relationship- and group-based trust. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 31(1), 48–62. Part II The Comparative Aspect: How was Trust been Reached in other Conflicts Chapter 4 Lessons Learned on Trust Building in Northern Ireland Mari Fitzduff Nothing changes without individuals. Nothing lasts without institutions. Jean Monnet Introduction The development of trust between politicians and leaders as part of a peace process is often seen as an essential part of achieving a political agreement. Much of the literature on trust in conflict resolution has focused on the development of such trust (Lewicki and Wiethoff 2000; Tomlinson and Lewicki 2003; Bar-Tal 2005). Generally, such trust-building is seen as the purview of individual psychologies, in which changing attitude plays a seminal part. While such trust building between politicians and societal leaders was not completely absent in Northern Ireland, it was usually fleeting in the face of social and political violence.1 The difficulty and length of time involved in obtaining an eventual political agreement, almost 30 years, was part of the difficulty in obtaining such trust, as times and individuals varied and changed with the on-going conflict. In addition, the spatial demography and village nature of the communities involved often prevented informal communication between the politicians, which proved to be a major hindrance in the development of trusting relationships between politicians and political parties. It was the development of trusted institutions that increased the faith of communities in the capacity of the institutions of the state to act fairly and inclusively towards them that was eventually to prove one of the most critical factors in achieving enough trust in the region to embark upon a sustainable peace process. 1 Over 3600 people were killed in the Northern Ireland conflict which lasted almost thirty years. Given that the population of Northern Ireland was only 1.6 million, this was the equivalent of 700,000 dead in the United States. Ten times as many people were injured. M. Fitzduff (&) Brandeis University, Waltham, USA e-mail: mfitzd@brandeis.edu © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_4 41 42 M. Fitzduff In addition, the development of ‘bridging’ and ‘linking’ social capital (Putnam 2000) through more robust and interconnected civil society institutions was also crucial to the eventual development of a political peace deal. Such work provided many necessary conduits for communications between the traditional politicians. In addition, it also spawned a new breed of community politicians mainly from working class communities, and from women community leaders, who were essential to the eventual peace agreement. The Case for Building Trusted Institutions Distrust has been defined as the confident expectation that another individual’s motives, intentions, and behaviors are sinister and harmful to one’s own interests (Lewicki and Tomlinson 2003). Such distrust is at the heart of all conflicts. Without such trust, which can be seen as a positive bias for the processing of imperfect information about an out-group (Yamagishi and Yamagishi 1994) and a confident expectation that others will not exploit ones own weaknesses (Kollock 1994) progress to an agreement in a situation of conflict and violence is often deemed impossible. Such trust can enable individuals to undertake political negotiations despite the fact that such will increase one’s vulnerability to another whose behaviour is not under one’s control (Deutsch 1962). In the literature, trust is seen as both a type of behavior and an underlying disposition (Bradach and Eccles 1989; Sako 1992; Das and Teng 2001). Achieving such trust between those who are essential to the making of a peace agreement is often seen as a necessary process to ensure the success and sustainability of such an agreement. There are, however, severe limitations to the development of trust between politicians, political parties, and paramilitary leadership, as any mediator knows. Such individual or party trust-building work is very time consuming and often has little effect on the trust levels of the wider society (Kelman 2007; Fisher 2012). The nature of peace agreements is that they can take years, or even decades to achieve. According to Fearon (2004), the average duration of civil wars in progress has been steadily increasing throughout the postwar period, and is now reaching almost 16 years. Inevitably, during that time peoples’ roles or interests change, relationships move into a different phase, contexts change, violence erupts, and people die. While this is true in most relationships, the process is particularly true in relationships that are as fraught as those that are usually involved in conflict negotiations. In addition, the processes of trust-building can be such that many years can be lost trying to make the necessary sustainable relationships that may be important to the evolution of a political peace agreement. There is, however, an alternative, or complementary, task to that of political relationship trust building. In contrast to personal interaction-based trust, which develops between singular people, trust may also arise outside of relationships, and more impersonally, on the basis of institutions (Deutsch 1973; Shapiro 1987; Bachmann 2001; Nooteboom 2002, 2003; Rousseau et al. 1998). The development 4 Lessons Learned on Trust Building in Northern Ireland 43 of building institutional trust—i.e., institutions that are seen to safeguard and promote fair play and inclusion for all identities—as a mechanism to help the development of societal wide trust in conflict situations is hardly addressed in the identity conflict literature. Although often neglected, both in practice and in research, such institutional trust building can play a significant part in enabling political and social agreements (Möllering 2006). Trusted institutions can be part of a triangular relationship between differing conflicting groups, can act a third party guarantor, and thus can play an essential part in societal trust building (Coleman 1990; Shapiro 1987). Rather than being dependent on personal micro levels of trust, institutional-based trust can draw upon impersonal and more stable institutional arrangements (Zucker 1986). Such trust building can reduce the risk that individual parties will behave in an un-trustable manner. In relation to trust repair, institutions can play an essential role where trust-based face-to-face contacts alone would not necessarily lead the way out of a trust crisis, and where such connecting contacts are neither feasible nor time effective (Bachmann and Zaheer 2006). Within a volatile conflicted context, such institutions can reassure and guarantee newly established and repaired societal values such as social and economic inclusion for groups, without such being dependent upon the hostile politics that often surround such arrangements. They can also have a considerable advantage in that they can be seen to establish values, which cannot be easily redacted at political notice. They can reassure and reaffirm group equity and inclusion values on a wide spread societal level, unlike the processes of personal trust arrangements which by their nature are often confined, and often not understood or appreciated by wider constituencies. Such institutions can offer and in some places guarantee patterns of inclusive behavior based on legislation or other penalties, guidelines of behavior that assist inclusiveness, as well as patterns of monitoring and evaluation, and of best practices. They can transform the context of a conflict that is based mainly on dis-trusting relationships (Nooteboom 2003). They can bypass the inevitable vagaries of political ups and downs that are prominent in intrasocietal conflicts. If successful, they can multiply trust between excluded groups, and between such group’s governance institutions. They can help guarantee a future that will address the shortcomings of a previous time, and thus enable an easier path to the signing and maintenance of a political agreement. The notion of institutional trust may convey different meanings (Barber 1983; Luhmann 1980). It may refer to the faith or support people feel toward various institutions. If someone trusts an institution, it implies that he or she believes that this collective entity, on the whole, is competent and reliable and fulfills its obligations, works well, serves the general interest and acts in impartial and inclusive responsible ways. Thus, the notion of institutional trust goes beyond whether individuals have a positive or negative attitude toward an institution or whether they approve or disapprove of it. In this context, trust refers to a set of beliefs or expectations that they will be well served or otherwise by the institution rather than by a purely affective reaction (Devos et al. 2002). 44 M. Fitzduff The Need for Institutional Trust Building in Northern Ireland When the conflict had erupted in 1968 Northern Ireland it was not on the basis of individual or party political distrust, but about a public institution that was distrusted and deemed to be sectarian in their service to the minority nationalistic community, who were about 33 % of the population. This was the public housing body, which was seen to prioritize housing for the Protestant unionists.2 Much of the initial anger that stimulated the civil rights marches of 1998 was caused by the allocation of a house by the local District Council to a 19 year-old unmarried Protestant woman, who was the secretary of a local Protestant unionist politician, and who was given the house ahead of older married Catholic families with children. Such institutionalization of religious discrimination had been systematic since the setting up of the regional government in Northern Ireland when the island of Ireland was divided in 1921. When Protestant unionists took power in Northern Ireland, in their fear of a possible united Ireland, they had established a ‘Protestant Parliament and Protestant State’ that effectively discriminated against Catholics (Craig 1934). After decades of exclusion, in 1968, the demands of the minority Catholic community were clear. They wanted political suffrage—‘one man, one vote’ as opposed to a political system that was gerrymandered by the unionist establishment to give proportionately many more votes to Protestants than to Catholics. This had been done by drawing the boundaries for voting wards disproportionately in their favor, and by allotting extra votes to house owners and business people, who in the main were Protestant. The civil service was also seen to discriminate against Catholics, as were the police who were 93 % Protestant/unionist in nature. There were also significant economic disparities. Discrimination in employment against Catholics was rampant—in 1971 it was estimated that 17.3 % of Catholic males were unemployed, compared to 6.6 % Protestant males (Rose 1971). In its reporting on the civil disturbances of 1968 and 1969, the Cameron Commission, set up by the British government, concluded that a sense of injustice by institutions and systems of employment had been a major contributory factor in engendering the violence. It also implicated the police as a major factor in the conflict, and in particular police acts of misconduct, assault and battery, and use of provocative sectarian and political slogans (Cameron 1969). Having seen the result of such inequalities, which they had let go unchallenged for 50 years, the British government, following the Cameron report, declared that ‘every citizen of Northern Ireland is entitled to the same equality of treatment and freedom from discrimination as obtains in the rest of the United Kingdom’ 2 When the island was politically divided in 1921, the northern part contained a large minority of Catholic/nationalists who would have preferred to live in a united island of Ireland. For their part, the Protestant/unionist community had fought the division of Ireland, and had succeeded in maintaining the Northern part of the island as part of the United Kingdom. The terms Protestant/Unionist and Catholic/nationalists are often used interchangeably. 4 Lessons Learned on Trust Building in Northern Ireland 45 (Communique 1969). They suggested a series of legislative and other reforms to address existing inequalities. The regional unionist led government refused to enact such reforms, and local police continued to suppress civil rights marchers. The British Government eventually decided in 1972 that reforms could not take place while the unionist government was in charge. They prorogued them, and introduced direct rule from Westminster, the seat of the overall UK government. This hiatus in regional political government was to prove decisive for the development of many new and trusted institutions that were seminal in creating a more equitable and inclusive society in Northern Ireland. Without regional unionist politicians in charge, it meant that there was time and a modicum of willingness to start repairing institutions that had been found wanting in their inclination to serve all communities equally and without bias. The complete reformation of the security and social institutions of Northern Ireland was thus seen as essential for maintaining security and ensuring justice for all citizens of the region so as to secure the ending of the violent conflict that had taken so many lives. And, in the absence of any indication of political trust, or political agreement, it was institutional reform that became the focus for the combined efforts of many within the British Government, the legislature, the academic communities, and the NGO community in Northern Ireland. It was this development of governmental, security, educational, and community institutions that were eventually to prove the critical factor in achieving enough trust in the region to embark upon a sustainable peace process. The Development of Trusted Institutions in Northern Ireland Following the Direct Rule decision by the British Government in 1972, voting reforms were quickly introduced, i.e., house ownership was no longer a prerequisite for voting rights, and the multiple votes given to business owners were abolished. Local council boundaries were redrawn more accurately to represent the reality of citizen distribution, and a proportional representation system of voting was introduced which increased nationalist chances of gaining some power where their numbers were substantial enough. The number of councils under nationalist control was increased and control of all public housing allocation, which had been the trigger for the conflict in 1969/8, was transferred to a regional authority, the Northern Ireland Housing Executive, which had begun its work in early 1971. Given the major disparities in employment levels in 1972 a commission was established to promote fairness in staff recruitment in the local councils, and the British government established a working party to look at employment practices in the private sector. In 1976 a Fair Employment Act was passed, making discrimination in employment on religious or political grounds unlawful and a Fair Employment Agency was set up to investigate further the extent to which there was inequality, and how it could be eradicated. In 1982 the government announced that 46 M. Fitzduff tenders for government contracts would not normally be accepted by firms unless they held equal opportunities employer certificate issued under the Fair Employment Act. Subsequently all firms with more than eleven employees were required to monitor their staffing, and ensure that they accorded with community identity balances. If they did not ensure such balances, they would be penalized. In 1990 the British government decided that the existing legislative measures to address inequality, had not been sufficient enough to reduce existing differentials, particularly that of unemployment. Thus, in the early 1990s it set up a new initiative, called Targeting Social Need whose objective was to tackle areas of social and economic differences by targeting government policies and programs more sharply in those areas or sections of the community, mostly Catholic, who suffered the highest levels of disadvantage and deprivation. Both the police and the army took steps to increase the quality of their recruits. They intensified their initial training to include a much greater emphasis on social skills, human rights and diversity interaction work. Such work was also eventually introduced as part of the in-service training of established police personnel.3 The attempts to develop more trusted institutions were assisted by the institution of many ombudsmen (sic.) whose task it is to investigate complaints about government departments, local councils and other public bodies including registered social landlords, the housing executive, health and social services, public and judicial appointments, and the police. Most of the initiatives designed to introduce more equity and inclusion into the structures, systems and institutions of Northern Ireland had had some considerable success by the time of the Belfast Agreement. Their work had been so effective that as early as 1992 surveys showed that, in great contrast to the grievances of 1969, Catholics and Protestants alike were satisfied with both the allocation and the services of the Housing Executive. The processes of democracy and governance had ceased in the main to be a source of contention. There had also been a significant increase in the number who believed that police treated Protestants and Catholics equally fairly (NILT 2001). Complaints were no longer heard about rigged voting, unfair housing allocations, or unequal educational funding. The range of initiatives undertaken since 1970 had begun to bear significant fruit, and had substantially changed the capacity of Northern Ireland public and private institutions to provide for many more equal opportunities for its citizens, both nationalist and unionist alike. Thus, by the time the Belfast agreement was signed in 1998, much of the institutional equality and inclusion work had been successfully effected though a combination of the British Government, the Northern Ireland Civil service, legal, academic and social professionals, and civil society.4 3 As part of the Belfast Agreement affirmative action work was mandated to ensure a more equal balance between the communities in the police force (Fitzduff 2002). 4 Many of the regional unionist politicians continued to deny (and some still do despite extensive research on this topic) that significant societal inequalities existed, therefore their absence from the decision-making processes that were to ensure institutions that could help ensure equality and inclusion for Catholics, was critical. 4 Lessons Learned on Trust Building in Northern Ireland 47 The building of such initiatives became what Kelman (2008) has called ‘the third party as a repository of trust’ in a context where political trust was absent. They became part of a triangulation process whereby the institutions hold the trust that parties in a conflict do not have for each other. They became the scaffolding of justice and inclusion upon which Northern Ireland became based, and would continue to be based and their existence was not dependent upon the vagaries and the hostilities of politics and politicians whose perspectives so unfortunately limited the development of Northern Ireland as a place for all of its citizens, and not primarily those who were Protestant. The trust ballast that was built up by the development of trustable institutions during the first two decades of the conflict from 1972 played a substantial role in enabling the 1998 political agreements to be crafted. To have only started such development after the agreement was signed would have been fraught with difficulties, the details of which would possibly have halted the peace process in its track. Significant external pressure and legislation on the part of British policy makers had been needed to overhaul an institutional infrastructure based on inequality and exclusion to one where the minority could feel certain that their social and economic future would be equally respected by public institutions within the contested region that was Northern Ireland. This would have been impossible to achieve if the local unionist politicians had remained in power. In the long years building up to the agreement, such work did, however, develop a significantly changed society in which the minority saw substantial changes in their opportunities for employment, housing, voting rights, and security processes. Re-established or newly established institutions, whose credibility had been tested, and who for the most part had addressed many of the inequalities and exclusions which had been so seminal to eruption of the conflict in the late 1980s, were a very positive asset in gaining the peace accord. It was fortunate that by 1998, when the Belfast agreement was signed, the majority of the social disparities between the communities that had triggered the conflict in 1969 were well on their way to being addressed. Trust Building Through Social Capital in Northern Ireland As well as the building of more trusted public institutions, a more robust, interconnected and trusting civil society, and its organizations, was critical to the eventual development of a peace deal. Such ‘bridging social capital’ was critical in engendering both knowledge and empathy between the divided communities at many levels of society (Putnam 2000). In addition, it was ‘linking capital’ (Woolcock 2001) that enabled the local communities, in the absence of local politicians, to assist the civil service, public bodies, and the British and Irish governments in crafting a Northern Ireland society that had a greater capacity for connections and trust between them. The term ‘social capital’ became widely used in the late 1990s. Fukuyama (1995) saw the building of social capital as essential to the creation of a cohesive 48 M. Fitzduff society. He has defined it as ‘the ability of people to work together for common purposes in groups and organizations’ and ‘the existence of a certain set of informal values or norms shared among members of a group that permit cooperation among them’ (Fukuyama 1995, 10) The Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OSCE) uses the term social capital to describe ‘Networks together with shared norms, values and understandings that facilitate co-operation within or among groups’ (Healy and Cote 2001). Putnam (1993) argues that such dense networks in a community foster norms of reciprocity, facilitate communication, and strengthen trust, which results in citizen cooperation for mutual benefit. The World Bank for its part defines social capital as the institutions, relationships, and norms that shape the quality and quantity of a society’s social interactions. It suggests that social capital is not just the sum of the institutions that underpin a society—it is the ‘glue that holds them together’ (World Bank 1999). Such capital is seen by many as critical to the development of more trusting societies; it involves social networks and support structures, community participation, civic and political involvement, and trust in people and social institutions, along with increasing norms of reciprocity (Scull 2001). It is a key facet in the relational dimension of society and an important form of relationships on which future obligations and expectations may be based (Coleman 1988; Nahapiet and Ghoshal 1998.) However, not all social capital is the same. The first difference is that often such capital is of a ‘bonding’ nature, i.e., it refers to the social networks between homogenous groups. Such capital builds upon the common interests of a community and the collective strength of in-group membership to support each other and to exercise influence for their common social purposes. While such bonding can increase the power and resilience of communities, it can also have negative consequences, particularly in situations where there are conflicting identity groups. Within such groups it can increase conflict, particularly when it is based on ethnic, cultural or religious lines that promote the exclusion of other communities. In such situations, bonding social capital can increase distrust and intolerance between communities, and create a negative relationship between diversity and solidarity. It can encourage nepotism and discriminatory behavior and thus deprive members who are outside the group from equal opportunities in an economic and social system. (Putnam 2002; Arneil 2006; Dawkins 2008; Tausch et al. 2006). If ‘bonding’ social capital can also extend to ‘bridging’ social capital, which is the existence of social networks between socially heterogeneous groups, it can alleviate ethnocentrism. Such networks are likely to be more fragile, but more likely also to foster social inclusion (Schuller et al. 2000; International Alert 2000). Bridging social capital is often characterized by less dense but more crosscutting ties, e.g., with business associates, acquaintances, friends from different ethnic groups. If done well, these bridging processes allows different groups to connect with each other, to build up common social and economic goals, exchange information, ideas and innovation and build consensus among the groups representing diverse interests, thus providing for functional cooperative networks. Such networks can increase the ‘radius of trust’ between groups (Fukuyama 1999). Unlike bonding social capital, which occupies a narrowly group focused ‘radius of trust’, bridging can increase this radius, and can 4 Lessons Learned on Trust Building in Northern Ireland 49 thus help create inclusive organizational structures that can connect people in the common goal of social and economic development (Community Relations Council 1995). Such bridging capital can be very instrumental in the prevention and management of conflict between communities (Varshuny 2003). In addition, the development of linking social capital can greatly increase a community’s influence and power. Linking social capital, which reaches outside of the communities enables members to leverage a far wider range of resources than are available in the community (Woolcock 2001, 13–4) In addition, it increases a communities capacity to connect with people in positions of power, so as to affect their social and economic decisions (Macke and Dilly 2010). In Northern Ireland, it was the eventual development of such bridging and linking capital that was as an important addition to the building of trusted public institutions. During the early 1970s, the British government had put a good deal of resources into the building of social capital within communities, in the hope that it would eventually span enough connections to ensure a positive difference in what it then called ‘community relations’ work but would now likely call ‘bridging’ social capital. Their hopes were not realized. In 1985, a study undertaken by Frazer and Fitzduff (1986) showed that the majority of groups within the NGO sector were arranged along sectarian lines and had consolidated themselves along the lines of the conflict, thus creating many communities where few of differing identities would venture. Within a one-square-mile area of North Belfast there had been over 600 sectarian murders during the conflict. Such sectarian divisions throughout society were still all encompassing, e.g., only 7 % of people lived in what could be termed ‘mixed’ (i.e., Protestant/Catholic) areas. Less than that went to mixed schools (Fitzduff 2002). Complaints against the police from Catholic communities were endemic. Most sports were sectarian in nature (Sugden and Bairnen 1993). Many institutions such as the BBC and public museums were still associated almost solely with the unionist community. Cultural celebrations, and in particular those marches and festivities that celebrate particular victories, or commemorate particular losses for either community were often divisive, sometimes violent and sometimes fatal occasions. (Bryson and McCartney 1994; Jarman and O Halloran 2000). Those groups that crossed community boundaries were few, and most were tiny, worked independently of each other, and functioned with more good will than strategy (Fitzduff 1995). They had little connection with each other or with civic or political leaders. As a result of this report, in 1990 it was decided by the government to set up a new agency, the Community Relations Council (CRC) to help further develop bridging social capital between the major conflicting communities. Given such divisions, and the continuance of violence, it was seen as important by the CRC to increase work that expanded social bridging interaction and dialogue into every aspect of society, and that developed sustained options for cross-communal co-operation. It therefore set about increasing such interconnecting community work. It was recognized at an early stage that increased contact would not necessarily improve relationships between communities (Hewstone and Brown 1986; Pettigrew and Troop 2006). Such contact had to be of a qualitative nature, which meant that where possible contact should be undertaken in a context where 50 M. Fitzduff group identity is salient, where differences are articulated rather than avoided, and where groups agreed superordinate goals for cooperative work.5 It was also recognized as important that such contact was developed within a context that can, where possible, provide structures and institutions for the continuance and sustainability of the trust engendered by contact. Aided by considerable funding, and the courage of many community leaders, such ideas were gradually incorporated into the work of many organizations that adjusted job recruitment practices, cultural sensitivities, and active anti-sectarian work into their modus operandi (Fitzduff 2002). Gradually, as trust between individuals and organizations increased, groups developed the confidence and courage to reach out to ‘other’ communities on common social problems, and subsequently to address specific issues of cultural and political tension (O’Halloran and McIntyre 1999; Neil and O’Halloran 2000). Many integrated community development/community relations projects were developed along the nineteen interface areas of Belfast, where violence has been at its highest. Local skilled mediators succeeded in bringing together community development groups to look at ways in which they could together address the need to break down the emotional and physical walls that separated them. Such projects were eventually to include many ex-prisoners from both sides, who, as they returned to their communities, helped provide a fertile and trusting space for dialogue between paramilitaries and communities in the years preceding the agreement (O’Halloran and McIntyre 1999; Leonard 2004; Williamson, Scott and Halfpenny 2000; Acheson et al.2007; Cairns 2010; Hughes et al. 2011). In particular, such programs significantly limited the communal violence that was such a significant feature of the neighboring areas, particularly in the summer (Neil and O’Halloran 2000). In the years preceding the Belfast Agreement of 1998, community relations work began to successfully engage a much wider spectrum of people, including those who had previously been cynical of the ‘peace and doves’ stereotype attached to the work (Bloomfield 1997). It therefore became more possible to build a coalition of people and organizations addressing both the ‘softer’ issues such as understanding, dialogue and co-operation, as well as the ‘harder’ issues of inequality, rights, and policing, and political and constitutional differences. Evaluations of such interconnecting work have shown that such positive contact between members of the differing communities reduced their anxiety about each other’s intentions, and promoted better inter-ethnic relations. (Knox and Quirk 2000; Niens et al. 2003a, b; Tam et al. 2009; Knox 2010). Many strong ties between communities developed as a consequence of sustained and collaboratively focused contact. In the majority of cases where there had been positive contact work, respondents were able to identify some new close friends and/or family members as being from the ‘other’ community. In addition the proportion of those who were in a mixed marriage/relationship, or were the product of such a union, was proportionately In Northern Ireland these were usually common social needs goals in the first instance, and as trust developed, political issues were also addressed. 5 4 Lessons Learned on Trust Building in Northern Ireland 51 much higher than the usual estimates of the prevalence of such unions in Northern Ireland. Processes such as self-disclosure and perspective taking were highlighted as important processes in the development of inter-ethnic relationships (Kenworthy et al. 2005). By the time of the Belfast Agreement of 1998, there were over one hundred and thirty organizations that provided opportunities which enabled people to meet across the community and institutional divides, and to address issues of differences, including issues of politics, policing, equality, and identity. Such work, allied with the work of the many public institutions which had transformed the approach to equality and diversity management in Northern Ireland, was critical in changing the balance of many organizations from ones which were sectarian in their make up, to ones that were more diverse.6 Such groups included trade union officials, cultural groups, prisoners, prison officers, women, sporting groups, community and church groups, media groups, police and soldiers, former paramilitaries, teachers and others. In addition the setting up of integrated school was encouraged, and these grew from one such school in 1981, to over 65 in 2014. Since, despite such new schools, almost all education was still segregated, contact schemes for school were initiated, as were curriculum projects which enabled children in all schools, including faith-based schools to understand their own and others traditions. Such work also began to include the cultures of many Asian and African communities who were beginning to enter the economic and social life of Northern Ireland (Fitzduff 2002).7 An extra bonus from the robust development of community work and community leaders that was very positive for societal trust building at civic level was the significant level of ‘linking’ social capital which connected those with different levels of power or social status such as state agencies with communities (Aldridge et al. 2002, Woolcock 1998). In Northern Ireland, in the absence or limited nature of traditional local and regional political leadership, which had been prorogued in 1974, civil society developed significant links with politicians and policy makers concerned with Northern Ireland issues. These included politicians and technocrats from the British political system, and with senior civil service personnel within Northern Ireland. Following the Hillsborough agreement in 1985, which structured cooperation between the British Government and the Republic of Ireland, ties with politicians and diplomatic civil servants in the Republic of Ireland also became possible and important. Thus, civil society achieved unprecedented access to policy and lawmakers, who, in the absence of normal political representatives, consulted and cooperated with Northern Ireland voluntary and community center on a very 6 These bodies included the Fair Employment Agency, the NI Housing Executive, The Electoral Commission, the Cultural Traditions Group, and the Police Ombudsmen’s office. 7 This approach was made part of the statutory requirement placed upon most major institutions in 2000, following the Belfast Agreement, not just to address issues of equality, but also issues of ‘good community relations’. This requirement significantly increased the need for organizations to develop their expertise in such integrating work, which has now been mainstreamed into the structures and programs of many of the main institutions in the region. 52 M. Fitzduff widespread basis. It particularly helped in creating links between the alienated Catholic communities and the technocrats and British politicians who had assumed guardianship of the region when the politicians were prorogued. Such linking capital in the absence of local democracy provided for community participation in governmental consultation processes on social, economic and political issues. It thus increased the trust between civil society and those representing the British and Irish governments who were working together on a political agreement. An additional bonus from the extensive nature of civil society development was its ability, particularly in the years preceding the agreement, to assist the development of understanding and trust between the traditional politicians. Northern Ireland is a very small territory, with a population of one and a half million, Its very smallness is what often makes it so difficult for politicians or those representing paramilitaries to involve themselves in personal dialogue with each other, without leaving themselves open to cries of betrayal by their constituencies. Because of this, and the segregated nature of the society, political dialogue between politicians from opposing groups rarely happens on a private level, only at a public level. What is spoken in public is usually addressed to two audiences—one’s own constituency and one’s opponents, but primarily however to one’s own constituency who watch carefully lest their politicians betray any of their beliefs. Any formal dialogue contacts between politicians and paramilitaries are particularly problematic and noticeable, so confidential political dialogue work was not easy. However, many individuals and civil society groups were able to assist such dialogue between the politicians in a less visible and therefore less contentious fashion. They thus were able to make a contribution to an eventual settlement in the form of unofficial private diplomacy. Because of their everyday engagement with the communities, often across the sectarian divide, they provided crucial connections for political dialogue. Their role in what was often shuttle mediation, and the building of trust opportunities, was critical to the eventual agreement. ‘It was civil society actors who had a low enough profile and sufficient credibility to make contact, build trust, and convene discussions across the divide with prisoners, paramilitaries, government ministers, community leaders, and civil servants. (Williams and Fitzduff 2007). According to McCartney (1999), they carried messages, facilitated meetings and helped political and paramilitary groups to evaluate their strategies and goals without arousing undue suspicion among their communities. A variety of civil society actors (including some academics, business people and members of faith groups, particularly Quakers) acted as confidential shuttle mediators between those for whom public meetings with their enemies would have spelt disaster for their political careers. As meetings with paramilitaries were technically illegal, it was the everyday hubbub of community activities that enabled such meetings to take place under media and legal radars. ‘This overlap between community politics and paramilitary politics may help to explain why some of the more innovative and non-sectarian political thinking came first from political parties with paramilitary links’ (Mc Cartney 1999). By the 1990s, civil society bridging work had also helped to generate a new breed of community politicians, particularly from working class areas, who 4 Lessons Learned on Trust Building in Northern Ireland 53 developed loyalist, republican and feminist thinking in a way that significantly enriched the political mix of parties who were eventually able to sign the Belfast Agreement.8 Parties such as the Progressive Unionist Party, the Ulster Democratic Party, the Northern Ireland Women’s Coalition and Sinn Fein all had gained considerable experience at community and social politics. This included their involvement in local cross-community programs such as The Interface Project, and the North Belfast Community Development Centre, projects addressing communal violence on both sides of the divide. Such work helped develop a new kind of politics and enabled some erstwhile paramilitaries and other community activists to move into community development and subsequently into political and party political activity Their cross community experience provided them with fruitful contacts gained from their collective experience in addressing local social issues together, and greatly increased the knowledge and trust between them. Such trust helped to oil the negotiations that led to the signing of the peace agreement. Their work was helped by the fact that prolonged discussions at local levels ensured that coming political compromises between the British/Protestant communities, and the Nationalist/Catholic communities had become at least familiar, if not always welcomed, to most constituents. These discussions were often led by ex paramilitaries, who were in some cases the most trusted politically in their communities, given that they had served prison time for their cause. Such work by civil society was later deemed to have contributed substantially to agreement making in Northern Ireland. In 2007, Williams and Fitzduff surveyed 73 social and political organizations and individuals from all parts of the community divide, asking them the question “To what do you attribute the changes in Northern Ireland?” The responses indicated that more half of the processes that were deemed to have helped were initiatives of civil society, such as community organizations, church/religious organizations, academic or policy institutes, and the business sector. In addition, five areas of work were identified as having been necessary to peace building, i.e., dialogue about political options, efforts at righting injustice and inequity, conflict transformation, cross-community dialogue, and managing diversity. Of the processes named, nearly half of these activities had been conducted through civic society institutions and thus were deemed to have contributed substantially to the societal trust building work that was so important in leading to the Belfast Agreement. It was ‘the sheer volume and variety of civil society initiatives, in all kinds of work with all kinds of audiences, which seems to have made a cumulative impact on the population’ (Fitzduff and Williams 2007). Important also was the fact that such trust-building connections by civil society within and between the communities enabled many informal trust building connections and shuttle dialogues to be developed through formal and informal ‘Republicans’ refers to those nationalists who are more strident in their demands for a united Ireland, and often support the use of violence to achieve this. ‘Loyalists’ refers to those most strident about retaining the British link, many of whom will also support violence to achieve it. 8 54 M. Fitzduff meetings between the national and local politicians, and between the paramilitaries, which was critical to their eventual ability to reach and endorse an acceptable agreement. In addition, the growth in such society developments assisted the emergence of new community politics and the development of three new political parties, based in the communities, without whom the Belfast agreement would never have been agreed. This work, in combination with the bridging and linking work undertaken by the many newly developed civil society institutions enabled Northern Ireland to move forward into eventual peace. Lessons Learned in Trust Building in Northern Ireland While conflicted contexts vary in the extent to which there are organizations that can support and develop trust among the communities and politicians, creating, or re-creating such institutions at public, private, and community level can be an important factor in achieving an atmosphere of enough trust to embark upon a sustainable peace process. Without the building of such institutions at governmental, security, educational, or community level, the sustenance of peace can be very fragile, and open to the whims of individual and party relationships. These latter can be very vulnerable at particular times, e.g., before elections, post agreements, when violence reoccurs, whereas well established trusted institutions can provided reassurance that new orders of inclusion and equality making can be sustained. In Northern Ireland, in the absence of regional politicians, the growth of such institutions was key to the development of a society whose laws and institutions began to successfully represent and include a minority who had been traditionally excluded, but who began to see that a changed order of equality and respect was possible even within the borders of a divided Ireland. In addition to the building of more inclusive institutions, the multitude of community and institutional initiatives that had focused on dialogue work, and the acceptability of the variance of cultural traditions, had laid a more trusting and fruitful context in which an agreement could be accepted by the majority of people on both sides of the divide. The growth in cross community civil society organizations throughout the region in the early 1990s became a vehicle for the development of much of the connecting inter community dialogue work that was critically important in providing opportunities for politicians and paramilitaries to understand and connect with each other, and thus to enable enough trust for Northern Ireland politicians to move into a more formal agreement building process. In addition to such work at community/political level, it was crucial that many of the leaders who emerged as part of such cross community working class politics eventually formalized themselves into three new political parties. These parties were significantly instrumental in changing the traditional politics that had previously been so intransigent, and, in conjunction with a changed and more inclusive public and community institutional landscape, they enabled a fresh political 4 Lessons Learned on Trust Building in Northern Ireland 55 dynamic that was able to forge a new political agreement that looked to the future and not to the past. Many challenges still remain. The politicians are new to reconciliation politics, and their attitudes still retain much of the sectarian politics that prevailed since the setting up of the state, and that were in many cases amplified by the cycles of violence that prevailed since the emergence of open conflict in 1969. Working together within a political context that now includes a variety of former combatants, in a context where many victims of the conflict feel they have been sold out by the political agreement, has not been easy. 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Production of trust: Institutional sources of economic structure 1840–1920. Research in Organizational Behavior, 8, 53–111. Chapter 5 Determinants of Post-conflict Trust: The Role of Ethnic Identity, Personal and Collective Victimization and Intergroup Emotions Dinka Corkalo Biruski Introduction Trust is the key ingredient of stable human relations. It enables individuals (and groups) in interaction to run their relations smoothly while acting under assumptions that “others” are basically benevolent social actors who will not intentionally break a balanced social exchange of positive social outcomes. Trust could be approached from different angles and disciplines (see e.g., Balliet and Van Lange 2012 and Thielmann and Hilbig 2015 for reviews); in the present study, we take up a socio-psychological perspective that looks at the concept of trust as a crucial component of human relations, be it between individuals or groups. In this view, trust is both the expectation of benevolent responses from the other side in a relationship and one’s own willingness to act (also benevolently) upon these expectations in circumstances that include possible gains but also losses (cf. Lewicki and Wiethoff 2000). In other words, in a “situation of trust” there is a certain degree of uncertainty for social actors; however, we expect that others will not take advantage of us when there is a risk to do so, i.e., we assume that our vulnerability will not be abused (Dunn and Schweitzer 2005; Kramer and Carnevale 2001). When social interactions are between individuals, we talk about interpersonal trust, or, to borrow a term from sociology and political science, about particularized trust (Freitag and Traunmüller 2009; Gundelach 2014). It is reserved for people we know, and with whom we have daily encounters and/or interactions. When trust is assumed as a “rather abstract attitude toward people in general” (Gundelach 2014, 125–126), we talk about generalized trust. It includes people we do not know or we have no information about. In psychological terms, generalized trust may be the expression of a personality trait or a personal belief that people in general are trustworthy (cf. Thielmann and Hilbig 2015). D. Corkalo Biruski (&) Department of Psychology, University of Zagreb, Zagreb, Croatia e-mail: dcorkalo@ffzg.hr © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_5 59 60 D. Corkalo Biruski Generalized social trust is at the core of the concept of social capital (Fukuyama 1995; Putnam 2000) that describes the collective value of human networking, mutual cooperation and reciprocity through which a flow of commonly valuable “goods” (including information, help, material exchange, etc.) is possible. Generalized trust is a kind of large-scale trust, a general benevolence toward others and a general expectation that others will treat us in the same way (see Kramer 1999). In that sense trust functions as “social glue” that keeps together individuals, groups, communities and societies varying in its forms and shapes depending on the social context and cultural habits (Schwegler and Smith 2012). Moreover, recent studies have shown that two forms of trust—particularized and generalized—are highly correlated (Freitag and Traunmüller 2009). When the object of positive expectations is an out-group member in an intergroup context one can talk about interethnic or out-group trust (Gundelach 2014; Voci 2006). As pointed out, contemporary literature, especially in sociology and political science distinguishes between more generalized trust that is “directed” to everybody, or to “an average” member of society and a more specific form of trust that encompasses those who are different from us, for example in their ethnicity, religion or some other feature enabling us to form a sense of common identity (Gundelach 2014; Sturgis and Smith 2010). Trust is probably the most fragile aspect of human relations; it is hard to develop and easy to lose and difficulties in establishing trust have been well documented. The fact that there is a certain negativity bias we are predisposed to react to (for a review see Baumeister et al. 2001), i.e., that it takes far less to destroy trust than to (re)build it (cf. Slovic 1993 and the notion of the asymmetry principle), makes us intensively tuned, suspicious, and cautious when our trust has been violated. For example, in laboratory settings Rothbart and Park (1986) demonstrated that many more behavioral instances were needed in order to confirm a positive trait like trustworthiness and far fewer were enough to disconfirm a positive trait. The opposite was true for negative traits; they were easier to acquire and harder to lose. This asymmetrical spiral in building and destroying trust makes us especially sensitive to the acts of violation of trust. As proved by social psychology studies, people are more ready to trust in-group than out-group members (Dovidio et al. 2002; Rotella et al. 2013; Tropp et al. 2006; Voci 2006) and especially so when a threat to in-group identity has been introduced (Voci 2006). Hewstone et al. (2008) argued that showing trust to out-group members may be perceived as putting the in-group at risk, and this is more so for those who identify more with their in-group. This finding shows that identity is an important moderator in this context but also that out-group trust becomes an issue of in-group security, making it more vulnerable. Intergroup conflict is certainly the strongest form of in-group identity threat that violates intergroup trust intensely and with long-term consequences. Moreover, intergroup conflict is an ultimate form of violation of trust. The sense of group vulnerability becomes extreme and amicable trustful relations impossible to imagine. This is especially true if conflict happens within a community where previously opposing sides lived peacefully and harmoniously before the conflict. As a result of 5 Determinants of Post-conflict Trust: The Role of Ethnic … 61 the conflict, their formerly amicable mutual interdependence became less amicable; nevertheless their interdependence in resolving the conflict remains very strong (cf. Kelman 2005)—in spite of different interpretations of the conflict and in spite of maybe an unequal share of guilt, both parties are responsible for improvement of their relations. In the present work we wanted to explore determinants of out-group or interethnic trust in the context of the post-conflict community of the city of Vukovar, Croatia. As a result of the war, this community that was highly integrated and functional before the war has become divided across the ethnic lines, socially fragmented and with far less trustful dynamics between two major ethnic groups—Croats and Serbs. Moreover, ethnicity has become the major organizing principle of the post-conflict community social life. Determinants of (Post-conflict) Trust Ethnic identity proved to be an important factor influencing out-group trust: the lower the ethnic identity is the higher the trust is. For example, Voci (2006) show that group identification enhanced in-group trust but also reduced out-group trust. In a study of Hewstone et al. (2014), lower in-group identification were associated with higher out-group trust. The same results were obtained in a study by Celebi et al. (2014) showing that more in-group identification in both Turkish and Kurdish student samples was associated with lower out-group trust. As Brewer (2011) pointed out (group), identity may play a pivotal role in “determining the course of intergroup relations” (p. 125). She emphasized at least two reasons why it may be the case: the first is the process of identification itself, where “we-ness” becomes an integral part of personal self, and as such a motivational force to value and protect one’s own “kind”. In times of threat and times of conflict are such instances when a threat to the group is perceived as a threat to our personal well-being and even more so for those who identify highly with their in-group. The second reason for the importance of the group identity for intergroup relation dynamics is the symbolic meaning of the group and the group symbols. Because of their emotional value, devastation of symbols and threat to them is easily perceived as a threat to the group’s very existence. This is why group identity symbols serve as effective and powerful mobilizers for group defense. In the present study we also assume ethnic identity to be a significant predictor of out-group trust, expecting that strong ethnic identity would predict less out-group trust. In a post-conflict context and after massive violence has broken out, group vulnerability is even more salient and issues of intergroup trust become vital for repairing broken community social ties. For example, in the context of Northern Ireland (Hewstone et al. 2004) it was shown that experiences with intergroup violence influenced negatively the level of out-group trust. Hewstone et al. (2008, 2014) considered trust to be so important that they called it one of the “stepping stones” for intergroup reconciliation. Other authors also assume that repairing trust is a central challenge in intergroup reconciliatory processes (see Kelman 2005). 62 D. Corkalo Biruski In the context of group conflict injuries and violence are not interpreted only at an individual level; on the contrary they are perceived as being directed to the group as a whole and against the very existence of the group. In such circumstances, each member of the in-group is perceived as a group representative, so he or she becomes “us”, making the wounds and hurts collectively felt. In other words, as Social Identity Theory elaborated (Tajfel and Turner 1986), mechanisms of identifications make it possible to create a shared collective identity, which in turn makes it possible to feel the group affairs as our own, including the suffering of others, even if we were not personally hurt (Bar-Tal et al. 2009). Recent experimental research has also clearly shown that individuals who perceive their group victimization as high, trust their in-group members more than out-group members (Rotella et al. 2013). Following this line of thinking, we assume that both personal and collective victimization related to the conflict would be important factors in determining the “amount of trust” in the formerly belligerent out-group. There are scholars suggesting or explicitly conceptualizing trust as an (secondary) emotion (e.g., Brewer and Alexander 2003; see also Voci 2006). A central role of emotions in instigating, maintaining and reducing conflict has long been emphasized (Halperin et al. 2011). For example, Intergroup Emotions Theory (Devos et al. 2003) assumes that we may feel emotions not only when we evaluate a certain situation as affecting us as individuals; we also may feel emotions when our social self is activated (e.g., when a social identity is highly salient) and we appraise that a situation affects our in-group. In short, as a result of the fact that we identify with the variety of groups we belong to, our group affairs become ours and may elicit group-based emotions. When they are targeted to the out-group members, we call them intergroup emotions (Halperin et al. 2011). We appreciate that out-group members elicit a number of specific emotions in an intergroup context (e.g., fear, anger, anxiety, etc.); however, we consider trust to be more than an emotional response. It comprises, just as emotions do, an appraisal of the stimulus (i.e., an out-group member or the whole group), but this appraisal as the cognitive process is much more complex (Brewer and Alexander 2003). It is based on past experiences with the out-group, both personal and collective, the current state of affairs between groups, but also expectations and beliefs about the out-group responses that are possible or likely to happen in the future. This is why we consider trust to be a complex mental structure that includes a mixture of cognitive, affective (emotional), motivational, and behavioral responses (cf. Schwegler and Smith 2012; Thielmann and Hilbig 2015) that is elicited in the presence (real or imagined) of an out-group and is based on a judgment that another party’s behavior could be predicted with a reasonable degree of certainty. That is, we expect a certain kind of behavior from the other side (e.g., They will trick us as they have always done) and adjust our behavior accordingly (e.g., I do not want to cooperate with them). Along this kind of cognitive expectation there are a series of emotional responses possible (e.g., fear, anger, disgust, contempt, etc.), but we do not consider them as being the same as and interchangeable with trust. As DeSteno (2014) compellingly argued, our emotional reactions are not always derived from a 5 Determinants of Post-conflict Trust: The Role of Ethnic … 63 rational scrutiny but are automatic reactions that we use only after making decisions of whether we trust someone or not. Hence, instead of considering trust as (only) an emotional response, we believe it is a more complex pattern of emotional reactions, expectations and cognitive appraisals related to the future behaviors of others. In this line of thinking we assume that other, more blatant emotional responses, both positive and negative, would be highly predictive for the out-group trust. Broken Trust: Introducing the Social Context of the Study The present study was conducted in the city of Vukovar, the community that suffered tremendously in the 1991–1995 war in Croatia. Before the war this community was one of the most prosperous middle-sized cities in the former Yugoslavia (Ajdukovic and Corkalo 2004; Corkalo Biruski 2012). The city was a developed urban mixture of ethnicities and cultures with Croats being in the majority at about 47 % and minority Serbs consisted of about 32 % of the pre-war city population. These two major ethnic groups lived close to each other, and together with about 20 other ethnicities, making a web of family, neighborly, and friendly relations the inhabitants were very proud of (Ajdukovic and Corkalo 2004). Beginning of the 1990s brought about political changes in the whole country following the changes of a political landscape all around Eastern Europe. As a result the first democratic elections in Croatia that took place in 1990 and the declaration of independence in June 1991. Ethnic unrest and rebellion of the Serbian minority had already started and soon turned into an open war. Ethnically mixed areas became fields of fighting with an open involvement of the Yugoslav Army. The communities like Vukovar suffered the most so we take it here as a paradigmatic example of a breakdown of interethnic trust in the 1991–1995 war. Vukovar having suffered a three-month siege of Yugoslav Army forces and Serbian paramilitaries in 1991 remained under their control until 1997 and finally was peacefully reintegrated into Croatian borders under the auspices of the United Nations. During the siege, the city experienced tremendous destruction and loss of human lives. After the Serbian forces took over the city, Croats and the other non-Serb population was expelled, transported to prisoner of war camps and many people were killed. The major grievance is the execution of over 260 wounded Croatian soldiers and civilians taken from the hospital and executed at the nearby farm Ovčara. Their bodies were secretly buried in a mass grave that was discovered in 1992, fully examined and the place is today the most important site for commemorating Croatian victimhood of the Homeland war. The return of Croats started in 1997, but the city has never reached its pre-war population. Today, Serbs make up about one third of the inhabitants and Croats at 57 % are in the majority. Proportions of Croats and Serbs have not changed much comparing to the pre-war Vukovar. However, unlike the situation before the war, today, more than 15 years after reintegration, the city is very much divided along ethnic lines. Dynamics of a community deconstruction and breakdown of community relations, some of them being the most 64 D. Corkalo Biruski intimate life-long friendships and even family ties, have been described in our previous work (Ajdukovic and Corkalo 2004; Corkalo Biruski 2012; Corkalo Biruski and Ajdukovic 2009). Here we can illustrate with only few indicators how close and well-connected the social network was before the war. For example, in our previous survey study conducted in Vukovar (Corkalo Biruski and Ajdukovic 2009) 84 % of Croats and 97 % of Serbs reported having had close friends in the out-group before the war. Our qualitative study on trust and betrayal in war, where we interviewed former friends of both ethnicities corroborated that pre-war social network was dense, ethnically mixed and highly trustful (Ajdukovic and Corkalo 2004). That kind of context where living together is a part of communal tradition and is a long-lasting practice produces less out-group prejudice and more out-group trust unlike new interethnic mixing (Hooghe et al. 2009; Gundelach 2014). Challenges for Repairing Trust The level of hurt after trust which had been violated by betrayal is painfully intensive. This kind of violation may elicit a variety of negative emotions and even trigger aggressive reactions (Joskowicz-Jabloner and Leiser 2013). Under those circumstances, trustful relations are very hard to repair and a response that appears to be the most functional and adaptive reaction to violation of trust is a withdrawal from the perpetrator. Other relief actions aimed to ease the level of hurt in such circumstances may be only moderately effective (cf. Joskowicz-Jabloner and Leiser 2013). Violation of trust in communities where (interethnic) trust was their vital element has been especially hurtful and previous relationships highly challenged (Ajdukovic and Corkalo 2004; Hjort and Frisen 2006; Mooren and Kleber 2001). For example, the data from our survey study in the city of Vukovar (Corkalo Biruski and Ajdukovic 2009) showed that most of the participants did not have contacts with their out-group friends during the war and they felt their friendship had been shattered by the war. This very experience of betrayal and violation of trust overwhelmingly colors everyday living of the community members, blurs the memory of the common past and, even more devastating, contributes to the processes of reinterpreting the common past and everything it meant. People are not only doubtful about their future, they have become doubtful even about their past (Corkalo et al. 2004). The intensity of hurt and especially a widespread belief among Croats that they were betrayed by so many of their Serbian neighbors and friends prevails over years of pre-war apparently trustful interethnic relations, showing the power of negative experiences over good ones (Baumeister et al. 2001) and calls for a painstaking and long-lasting process of paving the common future in the community. 5 Determinants of Post-conflict Trust: The Role of Ethnic … 65 If we adopt the view that generalized trust is a matter of more enduring dispositions, even a matter of a worldview (see Freitag and Traunmüller 2009), one could expect that breaking trust in one instance (or even more than one) would not influence or make a substantial damage to this dispositional tendency. One could expect this dispositional trust to recover and operate functionally in the future. However, research has clearly shown that in the case of traumatic experiences exactly the “shattered assumptions” (Janoff-Bulman 1992), i.e., a devastated worldview is a major obstacle for a successful post-traumatic recovery. This is not only the case when it comes to psychological healing; our previous analyses showed that post-conflict social healing of traumatized people is also harder and slower, if their worldview was more damaged by their war experiences (Corkalo Biruski et al. 2014). In such circumstances people are more likely to build supportive and trustful relations only with their own in-group. Moreover, recent experimental work showed that people who were high in belief of their in-group victimhood trusted their in-group more than the out-group, and this tendency was stable even when in-group members obviously did not deserve to be trusted (Rotella et al. 2013). In sum, intra-communal conflict greatly affects the view of a community as a safe place and of community networks as a close web of good friends, neighbors, acquaintances and basically benevolent fellow citizens. Community wrecked by conflict lacks its fundamental glue—social trust—that has been proved to be an important factor in intergroup relations, and even vital in improving them (Hewstone et al. 2014; Schwegler and Smith 2012; Tropp 2008). For example, Tam et al. (2009) found that intergroup trust mediated the effects of intergroup contact on both positive (i.e., tendency to approach out-group members) and negative behavioral tendencies (i.e., tendency to avoid or be aggressive toward out-group members) toward the out-group. Moreover, they also found (Study 2) that building out-group trust is far more important than building more general intergroup attitudes. Voci (2006) also showed a mediating role of trust in linking group identification and intergroup evaluative responses. Indeed, the major question we have heard very often over the course of our long-term research in Vukovar stands at the heart of renewing relationships. Former life-long friends, family members, and good neighbors ask the same question —“How could we have ever trusted them? We should have known better!” Even when people find the inner strength to overcome the past, their fears that they may be betrayed again prevent them from moving forward toward the common future. Trustful interethnic relations are hard to imagine, and even if they are foreseen, people believe this is possible to happen only in the far future. In a recent pool of adult citizens of the city of Vukovar conducted in October 20131 people were asked about how long they think it would take for Croat–Serb trust to get to the point of a safe and comfortable life for everybody. The answers were not very promising: only 1 I am grateful to my college Professor Dean Ajdukovic for providing these data. 66 D. Corkalo Biruski 10 % of Croats and 13 % of Serbs believed that trust was already there; 28 % of Croats and 26 % of Serbs believed that trust would be accomplished within ten years, and about 13 % of Croats and 18 % of Serbs believed that 20 years were needed for trust to be re-established. However, as high as 30 % of Croats and 14 % of Serbs believe they would never trust each other again. Thus, it seems that intergroup trust is a pivotal ingredient in promoting and establishing intergroup relation improvements. Nevertheless, the key question remains—what are determinants of trust? In other words, what makes formerly belligerent groups trust or distrust each other in the context of history of violence, mutually hurtful actions and disappearance of the communal ethos? We propose that individual and collective trauma would be good predictors of post-conflict intergroup (dis)trust, together with the strength of ethnic identity around which formerly antagonized groups continue to build their social life. Furthermore, we also assume that specific emotional responses toward an out-group, both positive and negative, will additionally contribute in explaining post-conflict intergroup trust. Method Participants Data were collected in 2008 on a community random sample, by using a random-walk sampling technique. There were 333 adult participants, between 18 and 65 years old, and 64 % were women. The research site was the city of Vukovar, Croatia, that experienced massive violence and human and material losses in the 1991–1995 war. About 63 % of the samples were ethnic Croats (N = 210) and the rest were Serbs. As a part of a larger study, participants were assessed in an individual session at their homes and completed their questionnaires with assistance of a trained senior psychology student. The study was approved by the Ethical Review Board of the Department of Psychology, University of Zagreb and a signed statement of informed consent was obtained from every participant. Measures There were four groups of predictors we wanted to use in order to predict out-group trust: sociodemographics, ethnic identity, personal and collective victimization, and positive and negative emotions toward the out-group. Among sociodemographic characteristics as control variables were: age, gender, level of education (elementary school, high school, college or university degree) and ethnic background (Croats or Serbs). 5 Determinants of Post-conflict Trust: The Role of Ethnic … 67 Second, we measured ethnic identity by using a four-item scale developed by Doosje et al. (1995). The scale measures strength of identification with one’s ethnic group (e.g., I identify with other members of my ethnic group). We adapted scale response format to be from 1 (strongly disagree) to 5 (strongly agree). The scale was found to be fairly reliable (a = 0.80). Participants’ responses were summed up and higher results indicated stronger ethnic identification. Personal victimization was measured by the Impact of Event Scale–Revised (IES-R) (Weiss and Marmar 1997). The scale consists of 22 items describing various difficulties in everyday functioning (e.g., sleep disorders, flashbacks, intrusions, etc.) in order to assess reactions to traumatic events related to the war. Participants indicated how distressing each difficulty was during the past week with respect to what they had experienced during the war. The total score was used as a measure of traumatization and Cronbach’s alpha in the present sample was 96. Perception of collective victimization was measured by a single item asking who was a greater victim of the war and participants responded if they felt their group suffered more, the other group suffered more, or both groups suffered equally. Since only few participants felt that the other group suffered more, the final results are presented as a dichotomous category with higher score indicating perception of one’s own group as being the greater victim, i.e., indicating perception of greater collective victimization. Intergroup (collective) emotions were measured by providing the participants with a list of nine emotions—four positive (friendship, respect, tolerance, and closeness) and five negative (contempt, animosity, hatred, bitterness, and anger)— and asking about how much they felt each of these emotions toward the members of the out-group. The response scale was from 1 (not at all) to 5 (strongly). The results were averaged and the higher results indicate stronger positive or negative emotions. Both positive and negative emotion scales were highly reliable (a = 0.90 and a = 0.87, respectively). Finally, the outcome variable was out-group trust measured by The Intergroup Trust Scale (see Corkalo Biruski et al. 2014). It comprises 9-items (a = 0.83) describing (dis)beliefs about rebuilding trust between groups (e.g., “I think that trust between Croats and Serbs has been lost forever”; or “I don’t think it is possible to ever overcome the wounds from the past war”). Results Table 5.1 provides descriptive statistics for all the variables, showing that two groups of participants, Croats and Serbs, differ in all variables. First, Croats have higher ethnic identity; however, both groups identify with their ethnic group strongly and fairly above the neutral point of the scale. Since ethnic belonging is highly salient in this particular context and serves as a kind of an organizing principle around which complete social dynamics take place (see Corkalo et al. 2004), the findings corroborating high group identification are only to be expected. 68 D. Corkalo Biruski Second, Croats also score higher on both measures of victimization—individual and collective. Our previous analysis on the same sample showed that Croats experienced more stressful and traumatic events related to the war comparing with the Serbian subsample (Corkalo Biruski and Ajdukovic 2009). Nevertheless, although Croats experienced more post-traumatic difficulties related to the war, there is no doubt that both communities were tremendously traumatized. For example, our analyses (Corkalo et al. 2014) on the same sample showed that about 62 % of the sample experienced one to four war-related traumatic events. Such heavy traumatization showed itself in a variety of post-traumatic symptoms in our participants experience more than 15 years after the war. Croats, who have higher scores on the measure of personal traumatization, score also higher on the measure of collective victimization: they perceive their ethnic group suffered more than the out-group in the past conflict, while Serbs in our sample believed that both groups suffered equally. Third, Croats and Serbs also differed in how they felt toward each other (see Table 5.1). Croats held more negative and less positive emotions toward Serbs than vice versa. Effect size indicates that both group differences are large; nevertheless Croats and Serbs differ less in how positive they felt toward each other (d = 1.08) than in negativity of their feelings (d = 1.40). One more piece of information related to the emotional tone that formerly belligerent groups mutually feel seems to be highly relevant—while emotions felt by Serbs toward Croats are more polarized (i.e., being very positive and less negative) the emotional tone of Croats toward Serbs is more or less neutral on both positive and negative dimensions (see Table 5.1). Finally, besides differences in all predictors, two ethnic groups also differ in their beliefs of regaining intergroup trust (see Table 5.1). Again, while for Croats this was a less likely option, Serbs clearly believed that regaining trust was possible. In this regard Croats were more neutral while Serbs were clearly positive. Table 5.2 depicts Pearson’s coefficients of correlation among predictors and the outcome, showing that predictor variables were not redundant, although some correlations are fairly high. The key intergroup variables of interest correlate with the out-group trust with coefficients of a medium (e.g., personal victimization) to a large size (both types of emotional responses). Ethnic identity and collective victimization also showed moderate and negative correlations with the criterion of trust. Correlations among predictors vary from rather low (and positive) between personal and collective victimization to fairly high and negative between positive and negative emotions. In order to determine the relative contribution of sociodemographic variables, strength of ethnic identity, personal and collective victimization and positive and negative emotions in explaining the variance of the post-conflict intergroup trust, we used hierarchical regression analysis (Table 5.3). Testing if the data met the assumption of collinearity indicated that multicollinearity was not a concern, since all VIF values were below 2.5. Croats 18.12 Serbs 15.50 *p < 0.001 M 2.91 3.80 SD Ethnic identity 7.08* t-test 34.32 23.03 25.47 23.00 4.04* Personal victimization (IES-R) M SD t-test 1.78 1.04 M 0.41 0.20 SD 18.27* t-test Collec. victimization 2.78 4.20 M 1.15 0.73 SD M 2.82 1.65 −12.31* 1.14 0.86 SD 9.85* t-test Negative emotions t-test Positive emotions Table 5.1 Descriptive statistics (means, standard deviations, and t-test results) of all variables 3.00 3.99 M Trust 0.90 0.73 SD t-test −10.32* 5 Determinants of Post-conflict Trust: The Role of Ethnic … 69 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1. Trust – 2. Age −0.07 – 3. Gender −0.09 0.11* – 4. Education 0.18** −0.14* −0.11* – 5. Ethnicity 0.49** 0.08 0.02 0.02 – 6. Eth. ident. −0.44** −0.02 −0.04 −0.17* −0.36** – 7. Pers. vict. −0.33** 0.20* 0.06 −0.14* −0.22** 0.22* – 8. Coll. vict. −0.49** −0.06 −0.03 −0.01 −0.70** 0.43** 0.17** – 9. Neg. emot. −0.62** −0.13* −0.03 −0.05 −0.48** 0.45** 0.34** 0.46** – 10. Pos. emot. 0.60** 0.13* −0.00 −0.01 0.56** −0.39** −0.19** −0.57** −0.65** Note: Eth. ident. Ethnic identity; Pers.vict. Personal victimization; Coll. vict. Collective victimization; Neg. emot. Negative emotions; Pos. emot. Positive emotions *p < 0.05; **p < 0.001 Variable Table 5.2 Correlation matrix of the predictors and the criterion (N = 331) 70 D. Corkalo Biruski 5 Determinants of Post-conflict Trust: The Role of Ethnic … Table 5.3 Summary of hierarchical regression analysis for variables predicting intergroup trust Variable b Step 1 Age −0.09 Gender −0.07 Education 0.15 Ethnicity 0.48 Step 2 Age −0.09 Gender −0.09 Education 0.10 Ethnicity 0.38 Ethnic identity −0.30 Step 3 Age −0.06 Gender −0.08 Education 0.09 Ethnicity 0.35 Ethnic identity −0.27 Personal victimiz. −0.16 Step 4 Age −0.06 Gender −0.08 Education 0.10 Ethnicity 0.23 Ethnic identity −0.22 Personal victimiz. −0.16 Collective −0.20 victimiz. Step 5 Age −0.13 Gender −0.07 Education 0.11 Ethnicity 0.10 Ethnic identity −0.11 Personal victimiz. −0.07 Collective −0.06 victimiz. Negative −0.31 emotions Positive emotions 0.27 Note +p < 0.10 *p < 0.05; **p 71 t R R2 ΔR2 0.52 0.27 0.27 0.59 0.34 0.07 0.60 0.37 0.02 0.62 0.38 0.02 0.73 0.53 0.15 −1.81+ −1.47 3.12** 10.07*** −2.00* −1.86+ 2.16* 7.70*** −5.98*** −1.33 −1.76+ 1.92+ 7.20*** −5.50*** −3.30*** −1.28 −1.88+ 2.18* 3.58*** −4.33*** −3.31*** −2.99** −3.23*** −1.81+ 2.82** 1.74+ −2.32* −1.57 −0.99 −5.62*** 4.69*** < 0.01; ***p < 0.001 72 D. Corkalo Biruski In step 1, all demographic variables were entered; in step 2 we entered ethnic identity followed by personal victimization in step 3 and collective victimization in step 4. Finally, in step 5 positive and negative emotions were entered. This method of building the model allows us to observe the contribution of variables entered in each step while controlling for the variables entered in the previous steps. First and foremost, we wanted to test predictive power of intergroup variables after controlling for the influence of sociodemographic variables. In step 1 the overall regression model was significant, F(4,320) = 29.74, p < 0.001, R2 = 0.27. Results showed that those who were more trustful were also participants with a higher level of education (b = 0.15, p < 0.001) and Serbs (b = 0.48, p < 0.001). While age proved to be only marginally significant, (b = −0.09, p = 0.073), indicating a more trustful orientation in the younger participants, gender did not make any significant contribution in explaining the variance of trust (b = −0.07, p = 0.123). In total, sociodemographic variables accounted for the fairly high 27 % of the variation in trust. In step 2 ethnic identity was entered in the model, showing a significant increase in explaining the variance of trust, Fchange(1,319) = 35.76, p < 0.001, ΔR2 = 0.07 by adding an additional 7 %. As predicted, participants who identified more strongly with their own ethnic group were also less likely to trust the out-group (b = −0.30, p < 0.001). In this step, all sociodemographic variables turned out to contribute significantly in explaining the variance of trust (see Table 5.3). By entering personal victimization in the model in step 3, only 2 % of additional variance in trust was explained; nevertheless this increase was significant Fchange(1,318) = 10.91, p < 0.01, ΔR2 = 0.02 showing that more personally victimized participants were also less trustful toward the out-group (b = −0.16, p < 0.01). The same increase of 2 % in explaining the variance of trust appeared in step 4 when collective victimization was entered in the regression model Fchange (1317) = 8.97, p < 0.01, ΔR2 = 0.02, showing that those who believed their in-group suffered more in the war also trusted their former adversaries less (b = −0.20, p < 0.01). All other variables but age remained significant predictors of trust (see Table 5.3). Finally, in step 5 positive and negative emotions were introduced in the model, producing a significant increase of 15 % in the variance of trust being explained F (2,315) = 50.77, p < 0.001, ΔR2 = 0.15. It revealed that participants who felt less negative emotions (b = −0.31, p < 0.001) and more positive emotions (b = 0.27, p < 0.001) trusted the out-group more. Thus, in the final model the effect of ethnic identity continued to be a significant predictor (b = −0.11, p = 0.031), though reduced in size. However, neither personal (b = −0.07, p = 0.118) nor collective victimization (b = −0.06, p = 0.324) continued to be significant predictors of trust. Regarding sociodemographics, age of participant contributed the most, showing that younger participants were also more trustful (b = −0.13, p < 0.01). Furthermore, participants’ education level also remained a significant predictor (b = 0.11, p < 0.01), with participants of a higher education level being also more trustful. Ethnicity appeared to be only marginally significant (b = 0.10, p = 0.082), 5 Determinants of Post-conflict Trust: The Role of Ethnic … 73 showing more trust in the Serbian sample and gender revealed a marginally significant pattern of male being more trustful (b = −0.07, p = 0.071). In sum, nine predictors of intergroup trust accounted for 54 % of its variance, with negative and then positive emotions being the most important predictors. Discussion The present study aimed to determine the relative importance of sociodemographic variables, ethnic identity, individual and collective victimization, and positive and negative intergroup emotions in the prediction of intergroup trust in a post-conflict community. Besides establishing predictive power of the aforementioned variables in explaining the variance of trust, we also aimed to explore differences between two ethnic groups who had peacefully shared the same community before the war, were by and large on the opposite sides of the conflict during the war, and after it ended have continued to live in the same community (Ajdukovic and Corkalo 2004; Čorkalo Biruški and Ajduković 2009). Regarding the latter, the results showed that the majority of Croats have stronger ethnic identity, felt more victimized both personally and as a collective and felt less positive and more negative emotions toward the out-group of Serbs. As a result, Croats also believe less in regaining the intergroup trust within the community. Tropp et al. (2006) also reported differences in majority and minority (Blacks) expectations regarding trust of the out-group, however, with the minority anticipating less trustful interaction. Our results are quite the opposite, with the majority being less trustful than the minority. The similar pattern of results was found in the context of Northern Ireland as well (Hewstone et al. 2004). These differences may indicate a quite different nature of majority–minority relations in the respective social contexts and probably underscore once more how social context is important in studying complex intergroup phenomena. In the present study the strong in-group identification in both of the groups in such a clear intergroup post-conflict context produces probably a strong in-group bias. This intensity of in-group allegiance, together with the history of intergroup conflict, prevents the group from regarding the others as being trustworthy and reliable social actors (Hewstone et al. 2014; Swart et al. 2011; Voci 2006) and continues to operate as an immense obstacle in the process of intergroup reconciliation. In circumstances of high ethnic division differences in how ethnic groups experience their own victimhood are at the core of the current dispute between the two groups and prevent the groups from coming closer and rebuilding their relations (see Brewer 2011). Our results show that ethnic group differences in this regard are profound in our sample as well. While Croats reported more trauma symptoms and also believed their in-group suffered more, Serbs believed there was an equal share of suffering on both sides. Similar results that underscore the same differences in perception of victimhood were obtained in our recent study on the sample of youth in three post-conflict settings in Croatia and Bosnia and 74 D. Corkalo Biruski Herzegovina (Corkalo Biruski and Ajdukovic 2016), showing that those differences go beyond a single sample, are pretty widespread and are embedded as a part of the collective memory of the two groups that had recently been in conflict. Research has shown that people identify with the suffering of their in-group and victimization of in-group members becomes “ours” (Bar-Tal et al. 2009). This phenomenon and related consequences have been named collective victimhood (Nadler 2002; Noor et al. 2008a, b) and have strong consequences on the course of the conflict, its resolution and the process of reconciliation (Bar-Tal et al. 2009; Brewer 2011; Muldoon and Lowe 2012). When belligerent groups transform the in-group suffering into being “exclusive”, i.e., each group claims that it has suffered more and has been the major victim of the war or other form of intergroup conflict (Bar-Tal et al. 2009), the process of recovering intergroup relations is even slower and harder. In our recent work (Corkalo Biruski and Ajdukovic 2016) we called this “exclusivity bias” the entitlement to suffering and argued that it prevents individuals, groups, communities and whole societies from dealing with their conflicting past and work in synergy to overcome wounds and build a more peaceful future. As such, the groups perceive only their own suffering with no or little capacity for acknowledging the suffering of the other side. This belief erodes trust even further and is negatively associated with intergroup forgiveness and other aspects of reconciliation (Smyth 2003). What is especially challenging in the process of social reconstruction is that opening a room for sharing the experiences of one group victimization does not close the space for the other group. It can be equally challenging to find a balance between acknowledging the trauma of those who suffered and the processes of social healing. In post-conflict settings sometimes the political agenda and the one of the wider (less affected) public can be to put the past behind them and move on, leaving at the rear those who suffered the most. It does not only deepen distrust in the formerly opposing group—it can also expand distrust in wider society and erode the net of social support for the victimized group (cf. Muldoon and Lowe 2012). Our results also show differences in emotional responses of the two groups: while Croats felt less positive and more negative toward their Serb compatriots, Serbs responded in the opposite direction—with having less negative and more positive feelings toward Croats. This asymmetry in emotional responses toward the out-group in the majority and the minority is in accordance with some other findings. For example, Brewer and Alexander (2003) reported different emotional responses toward the out-group in White and Black adolescents in a racially integrated urban high school. We cannot rule out the possibility that in our study the minority (i.e., Serbs) responses reflect (mainly) social desirability concerns; however, we do emphasize that responsibility for future relations is shared between all groups in the community. Though the absence of positive emotions (rather then presence of negative emotions) may be an indicator of a “subtle” form of prejudice (Pettigrew and Meertens 1995), an emotional response of indifference of highly victimized Croats (see Table 5.1) may be seen as a “silver line” in a “cloud” of the very demanding and distrustful intergroup relations. Namely, the present indifference (instead of hot negative emotions) could make room for hope that with proper 5 Determinants of Post-conflict Trust: The Role of Ethnic … 75 initiatives it can be steered toward a more positive direction. It would certainly be helpful to monitor the development of “emotional climate” in this post-conflict community and see if the more or less neutral emotional tone that the more victimized group feels toward the out-group could be helpful in attempts to re-establish intergroup trust. Nevertheless, the needs of both groups should be fulfilled in order to accomplish enduring and stable intergroup relations (Nadler 2002; Nadler and Liviatan 2006). Finally, what can be said about determinants of trust in post-conflict communities? Our results showed that those who were younger, men, of a higher education level, minority members, and those who felt less negative and more positive emotions toward the other group were also more likely to trust the other group, i.e., to believe more that intergroup trust is possible to recover. In sum, the analysis revealed that with the selected set of predictors we were able to explain a total of 53 % of variance in out-group trust. Significant contribution of the sociodemographic, i.e., control variables on trust is in accordance with some previous research that showed the importance of the same sociodemographics for both generalized and more specific out-group trust (e.g., Freitag and Traunmüller 2009; Gundelach, 2014). However, unlike in the aforementioned studies in our study younger age was related to more trust though bivariate correlation between age and trust did not prove to be significant. However, these finding should be interpreted with caution: our participants were adults with the majority of them being above thirty, and more than one third of the sample was above the age of 60. As previous research has showed more mature age is related to more “socially oriented” attitudes and behaviors, including those directed to social reconstruction and reconciliation, e.g., forgiveness (Subkoviak et al. 1995). Thus, though the younger were more trustful in our sample, we should keep in mind that those younger participants were also mature adults. Similar to other findings (Freitag and Traunmüller 2009; Gundelach 2014), in our study those of a higher education level were also more trustful. We also found a marginally significant effect of gender, with men showing more trust in the out-group, though the strength of this predictor is very small. Contrary to our predictions, neither personal victimization nor collective victimization was predictive for intergroup trust after emotional responses were introduced in the model (see Table 5.3). When being introduced independently, as we expected, both personal and collective victimization contributed significantly in explaining out-group trust. However, it seems that more general emotional reactions went above and beyond the influence of victimization on trust, making the association between victimization and out-group trust less straightforward and probably even mediated by complex patterns of intergroup emotional responses (see Corkalo Biruski and Penic 2014). Our results on the predictive power of emotions are in line with some previous research showing that affective responses (e.g., anxiety, perceived threat) can be of the utmost importance in determining not only general intergroup attitudes, but also intergroup trust and forgiveness (Hewstone et al. 2014; Tam et al. 2008, 2009; Voci 2006). Our results showed that the more trustful were those who felt more positive 76 D. Corkalo Biruski and less negative emotions toward the out-group. This pattern of findings corroborates the view that emotional barriers can be an ultimate obstacle for reconciliation, and that the basic level of trust is needed before conflicting parities are capable of processing positive emotional responses from the other side (Nadler and Liviatan 2006). Moreover, these processes do not seem to be equally important for those who identify with their in-group to a higher degree versus those who are less identified with their in-group (Corkalo Biruski and Penic 2014; Tausch et al. 2007). Here, we showed that more general affective responses are also important in predicting out-group trust, and taking them into account is necessary for improving intergroup relations. Lowering negative emotions by carefully designing steps of intergroup contacts and cooperation is thought to be an important tool in improving intergroup relations (see Tropp 2008; Hewstone et al. 2014). Similar results were obtained by Hewstone et al. (2008), showing that positive emotions were linked to greater trust, while negative emotions were associated with reduced trust. Other emotional responses in an intergroup context like self-disclosure and empathy also proved to be important in developing trust and more positive intergroup relations (Hewstone et al. 2014; Nadler and Liviatan 2006; Swart et al. 2011). Our findings are thus supportive regarding the perspective that in the context of an intergroup conflict trust is highly determined by emotional responses (elevated by the conflict experiences), and indicate less dependence on the rational choice of cooperation and appraisal of conflict of interest (see Balliet and van Lange 2012). Rationality of trust is thought to be true for circumstances that allow a rational choice to be made. Everyday living certainly offers a plethora of such circumstances when social actors have enough time and reason for “calculating” the advantages of cooperation and showing trustful behavior. In such circumstances rational choice is thought to be not only the best choice, but also as the only one, because otherwise one would act against self-interest. An “added value” in such circumstances is that this rationality though motivated by self-interest turns out to be socially beneficial as well. However, when history of conflict enters into the equation rational choices look as if they are different. Distancing may be the most adaptive and most rational alternative (Corkalo Biruski and Penic 2014; Joskowicz-Jabloner and Leiser 2013) because risks of cooperation seem to be too high or even dreadful. A source of hurt —the conflicting group—and the link is often only made via the strength of a pure group membership—is now, if not perceived as dangerous then at least as unpleasant and unwanted. This affective reaction (and it may not be irrational!) may take over in making our future decisions regarding our overall reactions to the other group, including our ability to trust. “Irrationality” here is only to be understood; instead of calling them irrational, affective responses need to be worked through, so they become more bearable and past experiences integrated as a part of a personal and collective experience that happened in the past. Unless this kind of integration takes place, affective “package” associated with the conflict, and its potential to be reactivated in the future remains a constant burden for establishing trust and, eventually, more peaceful and stable intergroup relations (Nadler 2002; Nadler and Liviatan 2006). 5 Determinants of Post-conflict Trust: The Role of Ethnic … 77 One important advantage of our research is the community sample consisted of adult members of a community who experienced the war personally, making them first-generation survivors who are also greatly responsible for the future of the community. In this regard, our results may have important implications for other similar post-conflict communities. Moreover, the present study joins the small number of research projects investigating intergroup trust in real post-conflict settings (Hewstone et al. 2008; Nadler and Liviatan 2006; Tam et al. 2009). However, we also acknowledge our limitation that the data we provided here are cross-sectional and as such do not allow us to make causal conclusions about relationships among variables we included in our predictive model. It remains open as to whether a low level of trust intensifies negative out-group emotions, or vice versa, as implied in our analysis. Earlier experimental work proved that even incidental emotions are an important and fairly robust determinant of trust (Dunn and Schweitzer 2005); it is only to expect that those emotions that are contextually shaped and trustee relevant may have an even more robust effect on trust. In the present work, we have shown a strong relationship between out-group directed emotions and the level of out-group trust, indicating that low negative emotions may be of even more importance than having positive emotions. It may be an important recommendation for paving the road to trust. However, further research is needed in order to make firmer predictions and conclusions about relationship patterns among variables of interest. For post-conflict communities it would be valuable to follow changes (increases and decreases) in intergroup trust in order to have a better insight into the process of social recovery. For example, it would be beneficial to follow the longitudinal development of trust between formerly belligerent groups, by tracking subsamples with different war experiences and levels of traumatization. A longitudinal design would permit the unfolding of mediating processes between traumatization and post-conflict intergroup trust. Our study clearly pinpoints the importance of intergroup emotions in determining out-group trust, showing that trust is emotionally charged but it is not the only another emotion. 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Tropp, L. R., Boatswain, C., Stout, A. M., Wright, S. C., & Pettigrew, T. (2006). Trust and acceptance in response to references to group membership: Minority and majority perspectives on cross-group interactions. Journal of Applied Social Psychology, 36, 769–794. Voci, A. (2006). The link between identification and in-group favouritism: Effects of threat to social identity and trust-related emotions. British Journal of Social Psychology, 45, 265–284. Weiss, D. S., & Marmar, C. R. (1997). The impact of event scale-revised. In J. P. Wilson & T. M. Keane (Eds.), Assessing psychological trauma and PTSD: A practitioner’s handbook (pp. 399–411). New York: Guilford Press. Part III The Cultural-Religious Aspect: Trust in Islam and Judaism Chapter 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier for Trust in Arabic-Speaking Islam Ilai Alon For Gadi, Ofra, Ravit and Kfir. Introduction This paper aims at inviting attention to some properties of Arabic that may generate mutual distrust between native speakers and those of other languages. This is not to claim that language is the sole culprit of distrust. Bad experience with untrustworthiness of foreign conquerors, home rulers and Islamic involvement in conflicts, with the Israeli–Palestinian one in focus, provide ample reasons for Arab and non-Arab mutual distrust. To these Israeli (Meehan 1999, 19–20) and Hollywood (Pote 2009, 51) prejudice that holds Arabs for liars,1 as well as Islamic stereotypical view of Jews as treacherous2. Yet, although neither Muslims, nor Israeli Jews have lost trust of the other, some politicians are on record in explicitly promulgating it.3 Four main caveats are in order: Firstly, the paper is but a general list of items that partake in the concept of trust, detailed comparison of all the above differences lies beyond its scope, or even possibility. Secondly, although all comparisons risk See Suleiman 1999, 44; For an example of popular network view, see “Islam is a Lie, Muslims are Liars and the Press Promulgates the Lies.” In: Islam Exposed: Online Petition for Documentary Exposure of Islam. Saturday, May 07, 2011. http://islamexposed.blogspot.co.il/2011/05/islam-islie-muslims-are-liars-and.html; Mustakāwī et al. 2004, 219. In the political arena, see, e.g. http:// www.israpundit.com/archives/40122. 2 In the Qur’ān 3:71, 94, 5:41, 6:28; al-Jāḥiẓ, in: Finkel 1927, 327; and, e.g. president Sadat in Israeli 1978, 193–194. 3 E.g. former president of Egypt, Husni Mubarak’s speech at the Arab Summit Meeting, held in Cairo in 2000; Qurei 2005, 7 on the Palestinian negotiational principles. Saib Arekat, in Sher 2001, 149. Rabin, in Dan Pattir, private communication to me, 11-12-08; and Olmert Ehud: The Importance of Personal Trust between Leaders, 3 Apr 2012. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= cmGkdSAfDU4. 1 I. Alon (&) Department of Philosophy, Tel Aviv University, Tel Aviv, Israel e-mail: ilaialon@post.tau.ac.il © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_6 83 84 I. Alon evaluation and preference, here none is intended. Third, none of the observations, taken separately, is exclusive to Arabic, neither is it a deterministic factor. Fourth, the choice of Arabic as the criterion for trust in this paper will expectantly, also provide some justification for the unexclusiveness of the terms “Arab” and “Islamic” in it, and elsewhere. Language, Communication and Trust Trust rests, largely, on verbal exchanges between interlocutors. Therefore, the differences between Arabic and Western languages, including Hebrew, play an important role in (mis)handling it. In what follows I will draw some, partial, and general comparisons between the languages, and attempt to show how these differences stand to influence trust. This impact of the language holds true, I think, from both a Western scholarly point of view, based on Hall’s High-Context classification (Hall 1982, 105 ff.) and the traditional Arab view of Arabic as unique and superior to all other languages. Arabic differs from other languages in four criteria: the definition of language; its roles and objectives; its properties and its evaluation. Besides common definitions of language (e.g. Lisān al-‘Arab, s.v. Lughah), some thinkers defined it in terms of national existence,4 or as “a Being”. (Noorudin 2000). Arabic is an end in itself,5 its roles, quite differently from those of other languages,6 are described as an identity creator,7 as an important social8 and aesthetic tool (Abū Ṣāliḥ, n.d., 63, quoting Ibn Jinnī), an artistic form (Zaharna 1995, 246) which is basically acoustic (Grunebaum “Faṣāha”, EI2), or a platform for conveying feelings and thoughts (Sayyid 1980, 11). These frame Arabic in either aesthetic or political ideologies (Sharabi 1988, 86). Third, Arabic differs from other languages in its properties, which, as argued, are often preserved even when using another language.9 4 E.g. Al-Rāfi‘ī, the Egyptian poet (d. 1937), Waḥī al-Qalam. Cairo: al-Maktabah al-Tijārīyah al-Kubrā. (n.d.), pp. 35–6) as quoted in ‘Abbūd and ‘Abd al-’Āl, 1990, 202. 5 Ajami 1981, 28 (Quoting Zakī Naguīb Maḥmūd). 6 For a universal classification of the roles of language, into representative, expressive, and appellative/vocative see Bednare 2006, 145–147. Also, Butler 2008, 43. 7 Atiyeh 1977, 177. For “national language” at large, see Joseph 2006. 8 Nehme 2003, 144: “Arabs tend to use language the way a drunk uses a lamppost for support rather than for light.” The phenomenon in other Languages at large—see Sweetser 1989, 44, quoting Goffman 1974. For the role of language in low-context languages (American), see Grice’s conversational maxims (Grice 1975, 41) that call for being informative, brief, relevant, unambiguous. 9 E.g. rhetorical structures. See Ismail 2010, 13. 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier … 85 Some Aspects of Arabic as High-Context The language examples discussed here are varied, yet may be helpfully considered subsumed by the assessment that Arabic is a high-context language.10 In such languages, a message conveyed is in the hearer and the situation, more than in its explicit wording (Hall 1976, 101). Thus, the responsibility for the accurate understanding of its messages is the recipient’s, whereas in low-context languages, such as American English, this responsibility lies with the transmitter (Hall 1976, 247). For trust, the implication of high context can be significant. For instance, in high-context languages, and within known boundaries, which are usually wider than their counterparts in low-context ones, it is not difficult to express consent when none is intended (Hendon et al. 1996, 10). While members of the high-context cultures interpret the meaning accurately, foreigners will often blame the gap on ill will, hypocrisy, or sheer deception on the part of their interlocutors. The relative importance of contents and form, another issue of difference between high, and low-context cultures, has been raging for centuries in Arabic literature,11 often, with victory for the latter. Looked at from within the culture, the issue has, among other ties, to do with saying what the hearer is deemed to expect, in order to promote harmony. However, low-context cultures view forms mostly as a servant for contents with which it is to agree.12 Should such an agreement fail, the receiver of a message is likely to lose trust in its conveyer, often missing the true issue. Thus, e.g. in the Israeli–Palestinian negotiations at Camp David in 2000, the Israelis suspected that for Arafat, title was more important than real authority on Temple Mount (Ben Ami 2004, 176). Beilin, on the other hand, generated trust among his Palestinian interlocutors, although they were convinced that his true opinions were not different from those of Rubinstein’s (Dajani 2005, 7). Today, however, certainly in matters that have to do with the running of modern states, the priority of the contents stands uncontested.13 High-context languages tend to be indirect. Many (e.g. Alrefai 2012, 18) although not all (e.g. Nelson et al. 2002, 39), agree that discourse in Arab societies is indirect as compared with that in American English (E.g. Cohen 1987; 1990; Gudykunst et al. 1988) and Israeli Hebrew.14 This indirectness is sometimes explained by the importance of face-maintenance in collectivistic, in our case— 10 For the concept, see Hall 1976. The division has come under fire, e.g. by Kittler et al. 2011, 63– 82. Unfortunately, Hall’s work lacks reference to the Arab culture. Also, Elahee et al. 2002, 799. 11 It is believed to have started with the polymath al-Jāḥiẓ (d. 869) (Jāḥiẓ 1965, III, 130). 12 Of course the idea of poetic licence is legitimate. For the switch of positions in the West too, see Lanham 2006, 262. 13 See, e.g. the case of Egypt contract law: Rayner 1991, 163. 14 Merkin 2012, during the talks with the Syrians. 86 I. Alon Arab,15 societies.16 Among the principal means to express it is Musāyarah, a style of indirectness, courtesy (sometimes exaggerated), compliments17 and positive speech (at times at the expense of precision and brevity).18 Its objective is to promote social relationship,19 and to convey the message with risking minimum brush. For this reason, intimacy plays a major role in seeking trust in Arabic (Hatim 1997, 170). Conversely, Hebrew, for one, is of the opposite, dughrī style (Griefat et al. 1989; Ellis and Maoz 2002, 182). Mutual distrust may result from this difference, as the non-Arab will distrust the perceived “hypocrisy”, or “deception”,20 and the Arab will distrust the offensive directness to human relations. However, subtler distinction, e.g. the added criteria of class relations, proximity between interlocutors, and the speech acts that are used, decreases the above differences between Islamic and Western cultures.21 Of a less directed stripe of the high-context Arabic is the metaphor, defined by al-Suyūṭī (d. 1505 AD) as “the employment of an expression to indicate a meaning not originally connected to it”. (al-Suyūṭī Itqān, 36, 20). It is used to express emotions (Al-Momani 2009, 51), or to illustrate an argument, very much as the Americans employ facts and figures (Zaharna 1995, 248), and it is sometimes considered to be more eloquent (‫ )ﺃﺑﻠﻎ‬than the truth (Taftazānī n.d., 263). The more original and unique the metaphor, the better (Simon 2015), and it is here that the listener is called upon to make out the meaning of the text. The non-Arab is thus confronted by the generous use of the metaphor and by its contents, which might cause him/her to count it as secrecy, concealment or encryption. On the Arab side, a person who appears to be thick to the metaphor might be regarded with equally alienating suspicion. 15 Ajami 1981, 28: (Quoting Zaki NGUIB Mahmud) For the Syrians, see Shamma 1986, 108. For the information-relation dichotomy, see also Zaharna 2007. 17 In Arabic, the longer the compliment the more sincere it is considered to be. Carla (Center for Advanced Research on Language Acquisition) University of Minnesota. (2013). Arabic Compliments. http://www.carla.umn.edu/speechacts/compliments/arabic.html. Arabs also use similes and metaphors in compliments more than their American English counterparts.” (Momani 2009, 51). 18 This quality is criticised, among others, by Hatim 1997, 196: unlike in English, in Arabic “one can simply do more by saying more”. On the other hand, a proverb has it that “the shorter the speech—the more useful it is”. (Taimūr 1970, 381). 19 Griefat et al. Griefat and Katriel 1989, 121; Zaharna 1995, 249. By contrast, see Grice’s conversational Maxims, Grice 1975, 45ff. 20 Feghali 1997, 361; Anderson 1989/90, 92: the Saudi’s “circled around issues rather than proceeding in a linear fashion from one topic to the next. Americans were likely to view such an approac as deliberately deceptive”. 21 For example, when making a request, Arabs, especially Saudis (Tawalbeh and al-Oqaily 2012, 85), Jordanians (Momani 2009, iv; 88), and Egyptians of a higher class than that of the object of request, were more direct than Americans, see Elserafy and Arseven 2013, 569; Fattah and Ravindranath 2009, 33. Also, research showed that the division between Americans and Jordanians with respect to directness is not all that sharp (Al-Momani 2009, 128). 16 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier … 87 High-context languages are often marked as oral,22 and as being “of the ear” (Kanaana 2005). The very definition of Language, as it appears in the most classical of Arabic dictionaries, refers to it as “a system of sounds”,23 the Qur’ān itself favouring hearing to sight (Fandy 2000, 381; al-Quṣaīmī 2006, 343), and Arabic poetry too, “was a voice before it acquired an alphabet” (Arazi 2013). Orality is characterised by providing redundant information, by being horizontal rather than hierarchical, cumulative rather than analytical, conservative, empathic, not abstract (Ong 2013, p. vi) and improvisational (Sa’adeddin 1989, 38). It is an agent for group solidarity (Sa’adeddin 1989, 43) that authors employ to link their audience to them. More than any other language, Arabic, “a legitimate magic” (Khalid 1977, 130), that “enchants” (Salem 1970, 406) the hearer aesthetically, introducing him/her into a state of “trans”24 by sound, poetic rhythm and rhyme, and generally speaking—by oral expression (Hitti 1958, 90), thus steering writers “away from precision” (Salem 1970, 406). This orality is also expressed in the way information is consumed: Saudi men draw it mostly from informal oral sources, such as the mosque or cafés, from broadcasts rather than from printed sources (Al-Makaty et al. 1994, 55) and recently from the Web (al-Jaber 2012, 154) and mobile phones (Ziani et al. 2015, 001) that agree with the intimate size of small in-groups. Arabic orality is also blamed for what one Arab critic refers to as Arab substitution of talking for acting, (Quṣaimī 2006, 5) perhaps, a subtle accusation of pale credibility. Low-context languages, by contrast, are more on the “visual”, (Hatim 1997, 163) or “of the eye” side (Kanaana 2005), which is also illustrated by metaphors.25 They allow for better balance between substance and form, linearity and good structure of text (Sa’adeddin 1989, 43) in units that are each dedicated to a single idea. Its readers, who are expected to keep their distance from it (Sa’adeddin 1989, 39) are thus enabled to make out a written message without the support of any additional information (Sa’adeddin 1989, 37). Disregard for these differences creates ample opportunities for mutual suspicion and distrust (Kanaana 2005, 3): English speakers tend to regard the orality of Arabic as intrusive, verbose and burdensome (Ismail 2010, 87), while the Arab, might be put off by the “cold”, “impersonal”, “patronising” nature of the foreigner’s style. As a high-context language, Arabic entertains ambivalence, the highest degree of which is contradiction.26 In some cases, one and the same word has two contradictory meanings, a phenomenon which is known as Aḍdād (Cohen 1967, 29). “Unnerving” (Bozeman 1971, 77) to Western researches, Arab personality was 22 For a definition, see Bergman 2011, 80. For the orality of Arabic, see Doss 2014; Also, Johnstone 1990. 23 Lisān al-‘Arab, s.v. “Lughah”. 24 Adonis, as quoted by Sharabi 1988, 86. 25 Such as “seeing” for “understanding”, “perspectives” for “positions”, etc. (Dundes 1980, 87). 26 A good example is given by Minqarī 1981, 491, where two contradictory actions were justified as “[both] taken for the sake of God.” 88 I. Alon even characterised by such (Rosen 2002, 170; ibid., 59; Goitein 1977, 7; 122). The language also tends to adopt a style whollier than American reductionist English. This tendency is perhaps connected with Arab preference for a Top-Bottom procedure in negotiations, which is often the opposite of the American and Israeli direction.27 Interpreted as avoidance of treating details might generate distrust (Zaharna 1995, 249), and adopting the opposite negotiational directions can cast suspicion on both sides’ real intentions of carrying out an agreement in question.28 High-context cultures are a fertile soil for conspiratorial, distrusting attitude: if in Arabic the true meaning of a message is tacit and up for interpretation, then, by projection, members of other cultures may be believed to operate in similar, albeit, oppositional, ways. Although common in many societies (Allen, September 10, 2008), Arab29 and other scholars (E.g. Pipes 1992; Gray 2010), identify in Arab society a wide conspiratorial attitude (Gray 2010, 4–5; Pipes 1992, 42), what Paul Ricoeur calls “interpretation of suspicion” (Herzog 2014, 207), and which is not qualified by class or education.30 The tendency has been also explained by sociologists (Nasira 2008, 108), psychologists (Bruder et al. 2013, 11; Dagnall et al. 2015, 206; Masīrī 2003a, 20) and political theorists (Sharabi 1988, 47). Nevertheless, real cases of conspiracy in Middle East history have also had their share in solidifying Arab conspiratorial mentality,31 which is both a cause for, but also a consequence of scepticism (Nasira 2008, 103) and distrust. It starts by selecting the facts that prove it (Gray 2010, 11), and allows for no refutation. At the same time, it accepts lack of evidence, as well as the mere possibility of an event or intention as supporting evidence. Hence, conspiracy theories are powerful reasons for distrust of, and by, others. Perhaps these are some of the reasons for Arab public (al-Kandari 2010, 59) and individual criticism of it (Nordbruch 2012, 230). Two other linguistic properties have impact on trust: Emotions play a decisive role in the definition of Arabic as a social institution,32 by forging group solidarity (‘aṣabīyah) (Suchan 2014, 288). They, “the power of Egypt”, that come from the “bottomless heart” play a much greater role in persuasion (al-Khatib 1994, 161; 27 A case in hand was the Oslo talks, when the Israelis (Pundak and Singer) demanded sharp and clear statements from the more general and vague Palestinians (Pundak 2012). 28 See, e.g. Ikle 1964, 12. For modern negotiations, see Ben Ami 2004, 30; al-Sādāt 1978, 402; Fahmi 1983, 202; Sher 2001, 93 etc., This approach is not exclusive to Arabs, of course: Richard the Lionheart, too, e.g. adopted top-bottom procedure in his negotiations with Salah al-Din (Sa‘dāwī 1961, 55). 29 E.g. ‘Alwān (n.d); Masīrī 2003a. For Masīrī on the issue, see Nordbruch 2012. 30 Mehdi 2014. For example, sixty percent of the Lebanese, and seventy five percent of Egyptians do not believe that the 9/11 attack was carried out by Muslims. http://wikiislam.net/wiki/Muslim Statistics—Conspiracy Theories, quoting Muslim-Western Tensions Persist—Pew Research Center, July 21, 2011; Koopmans, 2014. 31 See in particular, Gray 2010, Chap. 3 for modern Middle Eastern history. 32 Al-Sayyid 1980, 11. In another definition, the proportion is different, yet emotions hold a considerable position in it: Abu Da’ud 1989, 201. 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier … 89 Glenn et al. 1977, 61) in the culture than in the West (Taufīq al-Ḥakīm, ‘Audat al-Rūḥ. 2:45; 55), and particularly in American culture.33 For Westerners emotions are not the most reliable tools of argumentation because of their subjectivity (Hamad and Al-Shunnag 2011, 160). However, in Arab societies, constituting part of the social and moral web (Gregg 2005, 106; Fattah and Fierke 2009, 70), they exceed the pure subjective, and unlike “external” rationality, they are part of “objective” reality (See Zajonc 2000, 47). Therefore, when judging truth and credibility emotions must be taken into account. The second is nonverbal communication. Some experts are cautious about the universality of bodily cues of lying,34 others endorse them (E.g. Castillo and Mallard 2011, 1; Bond et al. 1990, 20), and even claim greater success in deciphering these cues interculturally than intraculturally (al-Simadi 2000b, 460). Thus, cues have been found that are peculiar to Jordanians as compared to Americans, such as blinking, change in facial colour, self-touch, specific hand positions and stuttering (Al-Simadi 2000a, 440f). They further interpret physiognomically wide countenance, low brow, and the distance between the eyes (Atoum et al. 2000, 270) as cues for honesty (Bond et al. 1990, 201). Overcoming such spontaneous distrust that precedes even the first verbal exchange is not easy. In addition, awareness of difficulties in identifying liars from another culture by nonverbal cues stands to weaken willingness to trust them. Evaluation of Arabic Arabic is evaluated by two criteria: the first is its superiority over all other languages, and the other—its being the main identifier of the Arabs. As the means that delivers the supreme, divine truth, it gains its own sacredness (Suleiman 2004, 40). It is the language of the Qur’ān, of the angels, of the inhabitants of heaven (El-Shamy 1995, 279), and was spoken by Adam (Suyūṭī, Muẓhir, 30, 12) and Ishmael (Suleiman 2004, 40) among other great personalities. However, Arabic is superior not only for religious reasons (Balāsī 1993, 102). It is said to reveal the truth in virtue of its own perfection, i.e. by making the best use of human speech organs,35 by encompassing culture, science and religion (Abū Ṣāliḥ n.d., 19), as well as by richness (al-Qazwīnī al-Ṣāḥibī, 41, 4), both “in expression (ta’bīr) and signifying (dalālah)”.36 For these and other reasons, some hold that Arabic in itself LeBaron 2003, 5; Glenn et al. 1977, 61: “For the U.S.: 197 factual-inductive, 8 axiomatic-deductive, and 11 intuitive-affective. … For the Arab countries: 13 factual-inductive, 143 axiomatic- deductive, and 360 intuitive-affective.”. 34 al-Simadi 2000b, 460–461; Al-Simadi 2000a, 441; Ibn Qutaibah 1963, III, 155 (1986–III, 174): “A man’s goodness is evident in his face.”. 35 Badri 2000/1420,16, (Quoting ‘Aqqād, al-Lughah al-Shā‘irah, 70). 36 Balāsī 1993, 103 (quoting al-‘Aqqād 1960). al-Lugha al-Shā‘irah Mukhaimar, 42. 33 90 I. Alon is “a mechanism of trust” which attributes trustworthiness to anyone who speaks it (Ajami 2013). Arabic is one of, if not the most important definers of identity,37 “what makes [the Arabs’] being”, or of what some call “the Arab personality”.38 This evaluation of it is shared by the Arab public,39 as well as official bodies,40 contrasting it with American English, which is but “a tool for making money” (Atiyeh 1977, 179). By the elevated position of Arabic, its unique properties, and significance to Arab identity, Arab (in-group) supremacy can be established, and thus, automatically tell something about other identities (out-groups) and attitude towards them.41 Language as a Battle Ground Between the two, a battle has been raging for decades. The latter, especially the “Cultural Imperialists” and the Israelis, have been suspect of using language as a weapon in their assault on the Arabs and on Islam,42 on the cultural as well as the national levels. The means employed by these enemies has included coercing Arabs to learn foreign languages (Ḥāfiẓ 2002, 15), encouraging them to use local dialects at the expense of the shared literary Arabic so as to divide the Arab nation;43 imposing Western linguistic theories on Arabic (Ḥāfiẓ 2002, 15); endeavouring to simplify the Arabic language, thus causing it to lose its wealth and subtlety (Maḥmūd 1991, 813); Latinising the Arabic script (Ḥāfiẓ 2002, 17), and inundating Arab literary market with translations of Western literatures.44 On the other hand, translation from Arabic, especially of the Qur’ān, is thought by some as either prohibited, or as doomed to failure (Qazwīnī, al-Ṣāḥibī, 41). The implications of the 37 See Kallas 2015, esp. Chap. 7. Bukhārī Ṣaḥīḥ, Volume 4, Book 56, Number 803. Suleiman 2004, 38; Salameh 2011, 48, (Quoting Abū Khaldūn Sāṭi‘) Al-Ḥuṣrī, (d.1967) (1985). Abḥāth Mukhtārah fi-l-Qawmīyah al-‘Arabīyah (Selected studies on Arab nationality). Beirut: Markaz Dirāsāt al-Wiḥda al- ‘Arabīyah; Nuṣairāt 1997, 218; Hafez 2014, 434; Barakat 1993, 182. 38 Suleiman 2004, 38. Also, Abū Ṭālib 1997, 137: The three more important elements in national character—language, religion and ethics. The point of culture is to create a generation continuity. 39 Some 73 percent of Arab respondents, (The 7th Annual ASDA’A Burson-Marsteller Arab Youth Survey. 40 E.g. the Arab League’s declaration in its 2007 Beirut Summit Meeting. 41 It is of interest, however, that Jordanian students judged, by audio-visual data, Americans to be more honest than their own compatriots (Atoum et al. 2000, 276). 42 Suleiman 2004, 46. E.g. a book by the title “The March against the Language of the Qur’ān” (al-Zaḥf ‘alā Lughat al-Qur’ān) by the Saudi journalist Aḥmad ‘Abd al-Ghafūr ‘Aṭṭār (1966). Various Arab authors use military terminology to describe the language war. Thus, the internal part of this conflict is guided by outside forces (Farrūkh, ‘Umar. (1961) Al-Qaumīyah al-Fuṣḥah. Beirut: Dār al-‘Ilm lil-Malāyīn). 43 Maḥmūd 1991, 813; Versteegh 2014, 174. For a different view, see Salameh 2011, 52. 44 Suleiman 2004, 52, quoting Muhammad ‘Abd al-Rahman Marhaba (tashwthilt, 69). 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier … 91 above to trust are sorry. A similar threat has been recently perceived to Arabic, namely Globalisation.45 In order to examine linguistic implications on trust, let us look into the concept in Arabic speaking Islam. Arabic and Trust Hardin (circularly) qualifies trust (Hardin 2009, 8) as “a cognitive assessment of the other’s trustworthiness”. As such, trust is usually a dynamic determination that rests largely on verbal exchanges between interlocutors. Thus differences between Arabic and Western languages, including Hebrew, play an important role in determining and managing trust. In general terms, the status of trust in Islam at large, as in Arab culture, is high, and of rarity (al-Tauḥīdī 1964, 385). Two reservations need to be made here: the gap between norm and practice, and that between in-groups and out-groups. Rather like in other civilizations in which religion plays an important role, the normative and the practical do not always correspond with each other. According to the celebrated mediaeval theologian, al-Ghazālī (d. 1111), the lowest (practical) degree of trust is that given by a person to the manager of his affairs, and the highest known as Tawakkul, is that which is given by the believer to God (Al-Ghazālī, Iḥyā’, IV, 261; Lewisohn, EI2 vol. X, 376). It is this latter kind that the believer is called upon to aim for, although failing it is in some cases tolerated. This is often done, by exercising the institution of Ḥiyal, “the subordination of substantive to procedural justice”.46 Trust has also to do with the distinction between in-47and out-groups (E.g. Foddy et al. 2009), and although familiarity must not be identified with it (Luhmann 1979, 95), it facilitates it. As language is an important identity marker of Arabs and of Arab culture (see above, p. 84) (Barakat 1993, 182), it is a significant contributor to drawing the lines between the groups (Quinlivan 1999, 135; Nasira 2008, 112; Quṭb 2001, 3:344). Going into more detail, we next turn to some basic concepts and manifestations of Arabic trust language, starting with terminology (see, for another etymological analysis, Jamal, 2007). Of Arabic rich trust vocabulary, I will only introduce two terms. The first is amānah, whose root originally indicates quiet, tranquillity, security and truthfulness (Lane, Lexicon.) The word itself is associated with honesty, credibility, pacts and covenants. It is closely associated, both in Arabic and in Hebrew, with “faith”, “belief”, and all the good values (Eggen 2010, 200). The second is thiqah, which 45 See, e.g., Al-Mahrooqi, R., Denman, C. J., & Sultana, T. (2016). Factors Contributing to the Survival of Standard Arabic in the Arab World: An Exploratory Study. Pertanika Journal of Social Sciences & Humanities, 24(3). 46 Khadduri 1984, 154. It is more in use by the Hanafite, than by other schools of the law. 47 Giles 2012, 381. See also Luhmann 1979, 43; Yamagishi and Yamagishi 1994; Offe 1999: 56. 92 I. Alon refers to the attitude of one party to another, with the hope that the latter possesses amānah (Eggen 2010, 199). The root of this noun connotes tying (e.g., of a rope) strength, firmness, approval, bond, agreement. The meaning, then of this term relies on the stability and predictability of the trustee. Some Particulars of Arabic Regarding Trust and Truth Moving into the conceptual domain, Truth and Falsity ought to be treated first, as they are the chief issue of trust, and are also related etymologically in English (OED, s.v. Truth/Etymology) and in Hebrew. Truth, according to Islam is a most important religious and popular value. It is given great weight by the Qur’ān to the effect that the believers must speak the truth even if it harms a next of kin (Qur’ān, 6:152.) It is later thoroughly discussed by the Sunnah (E.g. Bukhārī Ṣaḥīḥ, Adab. 69), to the extent that it even denies the possibility that believers be liars (Mālik 1994, Kalām, 19; 990). Subsequent authorities have also explored it, among whom are al-Ghazālī, who said that two-thirds of Religion consisted of truth (Al-Ghazālī, Iḥyā’ IV, 386, 7); or al- Kulainī (d. 940 AD) who divided all statements into truth, falsity, and that which makes peace among people (Donaldson 1943, 276). Among modern thinkers are, Sayyid Quṭb, (d. 1966) who declared truth to be absolute and exclusive, one and indivisible,48 or Khomeini who has defined Islam as “the religion of those who are committed to truth and justice” (Khomeini 1981, 28). Yet, in spite of the esteem in which truth is universally held, some differences exist between the ways truth is perceived in Islam and in the West (E.g. Keddie 1963, 27), which by essence invite distrust. To explore these, looking into the terminology and definition of truth in Islam is in order. Two principal terms signify it in Arabic. The one is ḥaqq, and the other— ṣidq. The root ḥqq in Arabic (and in Hebrew) means to inscribe (in stone), to write, legislate establish a right. The Arabic noun ḥaqq has a fundamental theological content: it is a Divine name (Qur’ān, 23:71,) and as such, it is called “the major Truth”. It also denotes the Qur’ān (Qur’ān, 43:30,) Islam (Qur’ān, 17:81), Justice (Qur’ān, 24:25,) and debts (Qur’ān, 2:282). In Pre-Islamic Arabian culture—also social commitment (Rosen 1984, 61). In our context, it is called “the minor Truth.”49 It connotes fact, that which agrees with the facts, reality and that which is correct (Qur’ān, 22:62). The term, which is also defined by social relations (Rosen 1984, 61), has the legal meaning of “law” (Ḍumairīyah 1414, 354), stability, permanence, endurance, legality, reciprocal agreement between the law and the facts and Right (Ḍumairīyah 1414, 355). Qutb 1990, 12. p. 116; Quṭb, Fī Ẓilāl al-Qur’ān, Sūrat al-Anfāl. MacDonald and Calverley 2012. For Rosen 1984, 60, even the meaning of “real” in Islamic culture is different from that of the West. 48 49 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier … 93 When it comes to Arab definitions of truth, they are not fundamentally different from “Western” ones. One that is offered by the great tenth century philosopher, al-Fārābī, states that truth is “the correspondence of the said to its object, to reality, or that which is irrefutable” (al-Fārābī 1924-6, 21, 18). Modern Arabic definitions of truth make it the essence of a given thing and its certain reality, juxtaposing it with the metaphor (Shaqīr n.d, Vol. 8, p. 424). Sometimes, however, a religio-legal aspect is added: “Truth is what has been decreed by the legislator” (‫)ﺍﻟﺸﺎﺭﻉ‬ (Ḍumairīyah 1414, 359). This thin sample of definitions reveals the Arab expression of the universal tension between the demand for absolutism, and the surrender to relativism regarding truth. The former is revealed in the Qur’ān that renders anyone who doubts it a heathen, and yet, the latter, too, can be heard.50 One of the factors that soften the demand for absolute truth is the esteem in which style is held in Arab culture and its power over reality, to the extent of creating it (al-wāqi‘). This power stands in contradiction to “the logic of things, of the world, and of the influential nations in this world”.51 Ibn Qutaibah, a celebrated author (d. 885) wrote: “We are Arabs. We precipitate and delay, we add and subtract, but we mean by these [actions] no lie”. (Ibn Qutaibah 1986, II, 152). Other literary middle points between Truth and Falsity are the metaphor (Al-Suyūṭī, Itqān, 36, 3), or even mere stylistic changes of statements (Rosen 2002, 164). In addition to style, truth is relative to the identity of speaker and audience and their relationship, which in Islamic culture are more important than in its Western counterpart (Hatim 1997, 158). In it, the addressees trust the speakers, for which they are rewarded with the truth (Hatim 1997, 170). It is conceivable that with foreign speakers, this relationship will rarely obtain. However, truth can also depend on the recipient: those who deserve knowing the truth and those who are kept away from it, or are even being lied to (Keddie 1963, 60). This very tolerance, acceptance, even recommendation for relative truth, can become ground for distrust, in spite of its universality. The other Arabic term that has to do with truth is ṣidq. Basically, the root ṣdq connotes strength and solidity (Furaiḥ 2014), speaking the truth and total congruence between the overt and covert worlds (Rosen 1984, 121), avoidance of deceit, betrayal, distortion or cheating, keeping promises, and not speaking in forked tongue (Jazā’irī 1964, 165). Whereas the noun ḥaqq (truth) refers to facts, ṣidq means the correct relation between them on the one hand (Āmidī 1983, 119), and one’s statements, intentions, beliefs (Qaraḍāwī, Kadhib; Knysh 2013) or faith, on the other hand (al-Ghazālī, Iḥyā’, IV, 387; al-Sheikh 2001, 278). It also indicates honesty (Atoum and 50 E.g. al-Quraishī 2007, (2). Bakr 2008. Muasher 2008, 124, about the dangers of subscribing to an absolute truth in the Arab world. 51 al-Anṣārī 2003, 5. Sharabi 1988, 89: “nonverbal proof (empirical evidence) is rendered secondary or even irrelevant;” Ali 1993, 69; Bateson 1967, 80–1, (quoted in Hatim 1997, 168.) This relation between language and reality is not exclusive to Arabic. See, e.g. Beedham 2005, 16; 58. 94 I. Alon Al-Simadi. 2000, 276), the balance point between that which is uttered aloud and that which is kept secret. It was held in esteem by the Arabs already before Islam (Ṭabarī 1965, I IV, 2097, 7). Normatively, ṣidq is God’s balance, a divine decree that is revealed in the Qur’ān (9:119), and is the foundation of the whole world, that would cease to exist without it (Qaraḍāwī, Kidhb). It is one of the qualities of prophets (Qur’ān, 19:41, 19:54, 19:56,) and closely connected with justice (Baihaqī, Al-Maḥāsin, I, 169). Exercising it is rewarded both in heaven (Bukhārī Ṣaḥīḥ, Adab, 69), and on earth, in terms of security52 and finance (Taimūr 1970, 395), and as a rational course of action, it is approved by most people (Māwardī, Adab, 262). In practice, however, the requirement of speaking the truth is always relative to circumstances, as a Palestinian proverb has it “A lie that works for me is preferable to speaking the truth that does not” (Taimūr 1970, 395). In Morocco, a hearer would suspend judgment about the truth of a statement until human relations are effected by it in order to maintain maximal flexibility of action (Rosen 1984, 118– 123). It seems that by and large the Islamic attitude towards speaking the truth is not exceptional. Falsity53 Lying, which is defined as “the reporting about anything something that is contrary to the fact”,54 is of several kinds,55of which the worst is that about God and His messenger.56 Other kinds include the “forked tongue”, where the message to one’s in-group is different from that delivered to the out-group,57 and pretense of friendship. Striping one of one's humanity (Qaraḍāwī, Kadhib;) it is not of the nature of the Muslim,58 especially when perpetrated against co-religionists,59 but rather befits that of the hypocrite (Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ, Īmān, 24), and is no better than idol worshipping (Qur’ān, 22:30-31). Although the lie may appear to be advantageous sometimes (Ghazālī Iḥyā’, III, 138, 26), it is harmful for society60 as it offends trust, values, models and honour, 52 Ghazālī Iḥyā’, III, 136; Jazā’irī 1964, 164; Māwardī 1987, 261, 22; Baihaqī 1999, I, 169. For Lie as a speech act, see Sweetser 1989, 43. 54 Baiḍāwī (d. 1286), in his commentary on Qur’ān, 2:9. The OED’s definition only adds the intention to deceive to this one. 55 Mausū‘at al-Akhlāq, “Ṣuwar al-Kadhib.” http://www.dorar.net/enc/akhlaq/2695. 56 Qur’ān, 6:21, 93; 6:144; 7:37; 10:17; 11:18; 18:15; 29:68; 61:7. 57 E.g. Arab leaders are frequently accused of it in Israel: See, e.g. Eidelman 2002; Pollock 2012; Dicky, C., Newsweek, 14.1.91. 58 Ibn Abī al-Dunyā 1973, 116–117/144; Qaraḍāwī. http://www.qaradawi.net/site/topics/article. asp?cu_no=2&item_no=383&version=1&template_id=8&parent_id=12. 59 Tirmidhī, Jāmi’, Bāb al-Birr wal-ṣilah ‘an Rasūl Allah. 4/325 No. 1927: 60 Ghazālī Iḥyā’, III, 137,5; Zīnātī Ṭarīqah, I, 35,4; Rosen 1984, 131. 53 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier … 95 shakes the faith, causes anxiety, hurts simple and weak people, and paves the way for tyranny and for Satan (al-Hāshimī 1983, 255). The liar is punished by losing the guidance of God (Qur’ān, 40:28,) and by eternal hell.61 However, even on the normative level, lying can be justified, i.e. when its purpose is good.62 In some cases, not only is lying acceptable, it is obligatory, namely, under human, or circumstance-caused duress,63 in bringing peace between people,64 or at time of war.65 The strongest case of legitimate lie is the institution of Taqīyah, according to which Muslims whose lives are threatened under the rule of non-Muslims may conceal their true religion. Although it is believed to be exercised mainly by Shi’ites, some argue that it is prevalent in modern Arab, not only Shi’ite, politics.66 This permission is also granted when one is compelled to take a vow, as long as one means the opposite content, or directs one’s oath to a homonym (Jāḥiẓ, Ḥakamain, 444, 2). It is an aesthetic—cultural device designed to also treat the relationship between reality and appearances (Gilsenan 1976, 193), and help in cementing society (Joseph 1980, 325). Finally, poetry and metaphors are also a sort of lying, which is endorsed universally.67 One could conclude that mutual distrust between Arabicspeaking Muslims and Westerners may result from the presence and impact of the religious truth on practice (Araby, n.d.), from the perception of the other as an enemy, the difficulty to arrive at common criteria for truth and falsity, and from stereotypes that concern them. Lying is a special case of the tacit, which we will address now. The Overt and the Tacit The Overt and the Tacit are stages along the practical continuum between “the Whole Truth”, and Falsity. With regard to trust, it is a double-edged sword: the innocent interlocutor suspects concealment, and the concealer is unsure of his own Suyūṭī, Khṣā’iṣ, 492 (referring to Bukhārī Ṣaḥīḥ, ‘Ilm, 38 inter al.). Suyūṭī, Kifāyah, III, 326, 3. Al-Ghazālī, Iḥyā’, III, 137, So did Abraham who presented his wife Sarah as his sister. Ibn Qutaibah 1966, 34. 63 Jāḥiẓ 1958, 444; Fakhry 1991, 57 (quoting Bāqillānī, Tamhīd, 344); Ghazālī, Iḥyā’, III, 138, 11. 64 E.g. Bukhārī vol. 3 book 49 ch. 2 no. 857. A similar permission—also in Jewish law, Shulhan Arukh, Hoshen Mishpat, article 262, sub article 21. 65 Ibn Mājah 1952, vol. 4 book 24 (Jihād) ch. 27 no. 2833 p.181. 66 Ibrahim 2010, 5 (quoting Sami Mukāram, At-Taqīyah fi ‘l-Islam (London: Mu’assasat at-Turāth ad-Durzī 2004, 7, author’s translation.) Taqīyah is of fundamental importance in Islam. Practically every Islamic sect agrees to it and practices it … We can go so far as to say that the practice of taqlyyah is mainstream in Islam, and that those few sects not practicing it diverge from the mainstream … Taqīyah is very prevalent in Islamic politics, especially in the modern era.”. 67 Al-Suyūṭī, Itqān, 36, 3. See also Madjāz in EI2. 61 62 96 I. Alon success and of similar steps by his counterpart. Lawrence writes: “The open reason that Bedu give you for action or inaction may be true, but always there will be better reasons left for you to divine. You must find these inner reasons (they will be denied, but are none the less in operation) before shaping your arguments for one course or other.” (Lawrence 1917,# 23). Concealment is as important within Islam as it is towards non-Muslims.68 Sects that have been doubted religiously have resorted to it, such as the Shi’ites, Nusairis or Druze, for doctrinal, social, (Dakake 2006, 325) and security reasons. In these cases, the sacred is often interwoven with a sense of persecuted elite, reinforcing the importance of concealment. However, even common language itself, especially a high-context one, is a potent institution for concealment that uses several means to this end, such as the secret. It is universally the primary means of concealment (Simmel 1906, 449) which, as a social institution, defines the in-group of its sharers. Rarely has it been investigated in Middle Eastern Studies (Khan 2008, 3), and when it was, it has mostly centred on Sufism. In it, the secret is a deep and mysterious reality, only to be revealed to the worthy.69 In early Islam, and possibly to date, secrecy, common in people’s daily lives (Khan 2008, 126), is associated with one’s soul, and thus is an important element in the forging of a Muslim’s identity (Khan 2008, 3). Because of their potential harm, secrets must be guarded jealously (Māwardī, Adab al-Duniā, 307); “Fearing betrayal by my tongue, I have deposited my secret with my heart, and it has proven loyal to me.70 Viewed as such, the secret can be a source for distrust if the other party finds it out or if one’s self betrays it. Keeping it in trust (amānah)71 It is a demanding test for trustworthiness72 and loyalty,73 and is hailed by countless popular proverbs and poetic stanzas it is only the trustworthy person who keeps secrets As the secret is kept by the best of people.74 68 See Sztompka in this volume, p. 18. Amir-Moezzi, Mohammad Ali. (2002). “Sirr”, in: Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, Edited by: P. Bearman, Th. Bianquis, C.E. Bosworth, E. van Donzel, W.P. Heinrichs. Leidn: Brill. http://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam-2/sirr-SIM_8901?s.num= 1&s.f.s2_parent=s.f.book.encyclopaedia-of-islam-2&s.q=sirr 70 Ibn Ḥayyān al-Bustī, Rauḍat al-‘Uqalā’, 191. Quoted in al-Mausū‘ah al-Akhlāqīyah, al-Akhlāq al-Maḥmūdah, Kitmān al-Sirr, Aqwāl al-Salaf wal-Qudamā’ fī Kitmān al-Sirr. http://www.dorar. net/enc/akhlaq/1245. 71 Qur’ān, Isrā’: 34; Tirmidhī, Jāmi’, Adab, 32. 72 Th’ālabī, al-Tamthīl, 420, quoted in Mausū‘at al-Akhlāq, al-Durar al Sunnīyah, Al-Mausū‘ah al-Akhlāqīyah, http://www.dorar.net/enc/akhlaq/1590. Also, Furaiḥ 2014. 73 Al-Durar al-Sunnīyah, al-Mausū‘ah al-Akhlāqīyah, al-Akhlāq al-Maḥmūdah, Kitmān al-Sirr. http://www.dorar.net/enc/akhlaq/1247. al-Hasan (d. 670 A.D.) in Al-Ghazālī, Iḥyā’, III, 132; al-Māwardi (d. 1058 A.D.,) in Mausū’at al-Akhlāq. Al-Akhlāq al-Madhmūmah, Ifshā’ al-Sirr, citing al-Māwardi, Adab al-Duniā, 306ff. 74 Alf Lailah wa-Lailah 2004, 9th night, I, 43. 69 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier … 97 Among the means for uncovering concealed information is interpretation. Its model is that of the Qur’ān, and it is of two kinds: the one, which is called Ta’wīl, searches for the hidden meanings in the text. It is strictly to be conducted by a set of rules that complement the text in creating trusted in-groups, among which is the falling back to notable authorities and to the overt text.75 This approach is based on a hadith, according to which every verse and every letter in the Qur’ān has one exoteric (al-Ẓāhir,) and another—esoteric (al-Bāṭin.) meaning.76 It is only by means of Ta’wīl that the true meaning is accessible. The second kind, tafsīr, whose main task is to clarify problematic expressions (Bāzī 2010, 22), is not restricted to scriptures only. Given the high-context nature of Arabic, interpretation plays a pivotal role in the culture. The qualified (and trusted?) interpreter is required to know Arabic and the background against which the message was conceived (Bāzī 2010, 107; 125), to know the principles of Islam, the law, literature, rhetoric, history society, etc. (Bāzī 2010, 21). Few foreigners master this lot, but the low-context, literalist foreigners will be distrusted for dismissing even the need for interpretation. Trust-Dependent Actions Trust, being a state of mind, is often influenced by, or can bring about, behaviours, of which I will address persuasion, knowledge, validation, promise, vow, agreement, threat and deceit. Persuasion The purpose of persuasion is to influence one’s interlocutor to accept one’s views on the ground of facts, evidence and argument.77 To accomplish this task both speaker and hearer must share these concepts, or at least—be aware of differences, before weighing their content, a rather rare situation between languages. Therefore, a fundamental difference is the epistemological one (Al-Salhi 2001, 3) between, e.g. the Western unidimensional, and Arab multidimensional thinking (Hafez 2014, 432). Such a difference78 does precious little to promote mutual trust. For the Western interlocutor, rhetoric, emotions, beliefs or any other scientifically non-provable, or not-logical arguments, are considered unacceptable for convicing, and their user loses credibility. Differences in such a fundamental concept as “fact” inevitably lead to, or even start from, distrust: The West, says Bāzī 2010, 31 (Quoting Ṭabarī). A Probably fabricated hadith. Bāzī 2010, 27. (Quoting al-Suyūṭī). 77 See OED, s.v. Persuasion, for a definition. 78 Salhi 2001, 3. 75 76 98 I. Alon Ahmad, only recognises proof that relies on sensory data, exempting the Divine message from scientific discourse. Thus by disregarding essential facts, which are not accepted as such, it is it that loses credibility.79 Facts are objects of knowledge, which, too, can be a matter of differing perceptions between cultures.80 In very rough terms, the Westerner conceives of knowledge as temporal, argumentable, searchable and objective. In contrast, for many Arabs it is stable, and includes beliefs to be adopted by people (Bozeman 1971, 77). For them language contains the truth, which is presented by a person of authority. Such a person gains credibility, among other means, by involving emotions in the process of persuasion (Suchan 2014, 289). Whereas the common perception of knowledge in the west is that it is one, according to many thinkers in Islam, it is basically of two sorts. The first is ma‘rifah, the human kind that is created by one’s exposure to signs left by a thing. The other, that of a thing’s essence, known as ‘ilm, originates by God, and is only accessible to prophets and messengers. However, both kinds are channelled through the human intellect (Salhi 2001, 3). These two perceptions of knowledge dictate two kinds of facts: one experimental, scientific, up for observation and critique, and one which is only open to those who consent to accept it uncontestably as true.81 This division roughly parallels that between science and Islam, which, some consider contradictory.82 A more moderate position allows for both, albeit separately: whereas only God knows true reality, His knowledge is transmitted to humans on authority,83 and science can only theorise about it.84 Other kinds of fact, argue some scholars, are established by society (Rosen 1984, 177), by desiderata, (closely associated to rhetoric,) (Shehadi 1997, 216) and by personal feelings,85 with focus on the self (Naffsinger 1994). For Arabs, events “are ethically charged, all are at once real and allegorical”, a perception which turns facts into parables (Khalidi 1994, 9). The above properties of Arabic manifest themselves in its persuasion style (Zaharna 1995, 248; Hatim 1991, 189). It is characterised by “Through argument”, i.e. by making a point with little direct concession (Hatim 1991, 194), by judging truth or falsity of information by its source (Al-Salhi 2001, 91), and by employing Aḥmad and ‘Abd al-Mājid 2014, 17. Also, Nasira 2008, 112. For a slightly different view, see al-Zarījāwī 2013, 288. For the philosophical dichotomy see Agassi, above. 80 For logic and rhetoric as universal, Ismail 2010, 232. 81 This division is not universally recognised, however. See, e.g. al-Zarījāwī 2013, 280. 82 E.g. Shukrī Muṣṭafā, the leader of the Takfīr wa-Hijrah movement. Al-Azm 2007, 291, as do 53 % of Lebanese respondents; 42 % of Tunisians, and average of 15.6 % of Moroccans, Egyptians, Iraqis, Jordanians and the Palestinians. “Pew Report on Muslim World Paints a Distressing Picture.” https://whyevolutionistrue.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/picture-11.png. 83 For the four core-beliefs of authority-direct knowledge, see Karabenick and Moosa 2005, 375. 84 According to 46 % of a survey respondents. Haidar and Balfakih 1999, 11. 85 Hirschfeld, Ya’ir. (2012). Interview, 4-3-12, quotes Faisal Huseini about himself. See also Naffsinger 1994. 79 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier … 99 past-oriented argumentation.86 Americans, on the other hand, are thought to use practical, economical, future-oriented arguments (Anderson 1989, 91) and Jewish traditional argumentation is considered to reflect a linear process of western style logic (Schiffrin 1984), or Jewish “argument and refutation”.87 Rhetoric is a common persuasion tool. However, while the Western is identified as an “argumentative culture”, (Jindo 2009) i.e. one of proof,88 Arab culture, is sometimes described as one of presentation, that makes a point by presenting known and accepted theological, sociological or political truths, often that are made by leaders (Suchan 2014, 290; 299; Johnston Koch 1983, 55). It is also characterised by (Johnstone Koch 1983, 56), repetition,89 typical of horizontal argumentation. This kind is disallowed by low-context, hierarchical languages (Johnston Koch 1983, 47; 52), as it is perceived as an attempt to prove that which neither needs, nor can have proof (Shiyab 1992, I), as beating about the bush, or worse—as a propaganda tool (Abū Qaḥf, Binā’. (n.d.) 5th lecture). Many Muslim preachers (Khuṭabā’), however, avoid it (al-‘Ubaidī 2001/1421, 32) as they regard it a rhetorical flaw (Qazwīnī Īḍāḥ, part 2, al-Ījāz). Other rhetorical techniques serve Arabic persuasion, such as intensification (Zaharna 1995, 248), exaggeration,90 the use of emotions (Suchan 2014, 279; al-Khatib 1994, 161), poetry (Anderson 1989, 82), and religion, which remain unpersuasive for Westerners. In recent years, however, Western modes have been accepted by some Muslim writers on the topic (E.g. http://alimam.ws/ref/775), as well as by many diplomats and businesspersons. Thus, Arabic, and Western speakers, still often differ in their perception of persuasion. These structural differences include the credibility of the presenter, the methodology of persuasion and proof, and the very epistemological foundations of the concept. They, therefore, render real persuasion across cultures questionable, and the interlocutors—suspect. Intention, Word and Deed Trusting is connected with the degree one ascribes to the correspondence between words and actions on the part of one’s interlocutor. Some important thinkers in the Arab world culture detect in it a rift between word and deed, which causes the downgrading of the empirical relatively to the 86 For some comparative observations on Central American traditional conflict resolution argumentation, see Lederach 1991, 184. 87 Ellis and Maoz 2002, 184, citing Spolsky and Walters (1985). 88 Feghali 1997, 361; quoting Johnston Koch 1983, 53; 55. See also Minqarī, Ṣiffīn, 485,18: “This religion is based on absolute self-surrender [to God] (taslīm). Do not, therefore, mix syllogism (qiyās) with it”. 89 Hatim 1997, 164 distinguishes, in this context, between functional and nonfunctional repetitions in Arabic. 90 Ismail 2010, 87 (quoting Sa‘adeddin 1989, 38); Suchan 2014, 286. Exaggeration not considered lying—al-Ghazālī, Iḥyā’, III, 140. 100 I. Alon spoken word (Ajami 1981, 19; Sharabi 1988, 89) and earns it untrustworthiness (Zaharna 1995, 249). Blamed on Arab leaders and politicians throughout history, it has brought down public trust in them, until the recent eruption of the “Arab Spring”.91 Some of the above thinkers, including Salafi Muslims,92 call for remedying this rift in the light of the Qur’ān (61:2) and conduct as was exercised at the time of the prophet Muhammad (al-Qaddāḥ 2005). An important test of such correspondence is the promise. According to one Arab definition, a promise is “a commitment made out to another person [to do in the future, something that is] not obligatory [for the promiser]”,93 which, on the model of God, must be kept.94 However, promises, like any statement about the future, are considered trespassing on God’s realm. A mechanism to conciliate between the practical need to relate to the future and the prohibition to do so, is that of the reservation (istithnā’,), i.e. the adding of the expression in sha Allāh (if God wills,) or “perhaps” (‘asā)95 to such statements. This religious duty, is also shared by Jewish (Psalm 127:1) and Christian customs (James 4:13–17.) The expression conveys its pronouncers’ genuine intention to keep their promise, as well as request from God to help them to do so (Hamid 2004), yet, such a reservation is a cause for both Muslims and others to doubt it.96 Some promises are indeed hollow and socially accepted as such. Arabic speech act of “promise” is found to be less committing than its English counterpart is, and often serves for cuing the “end of a conversation, [and] satisfy cultural expectations to save face” (Kādhim 2012, 93). As such, they need to be identified and not counted as a condemnable breach. This gap results from a conflict between the tongue that hastens to promise, and the soul, which not always enables one to keep it.97 Its main damage is generating enmity, labelling the culprit a hypocrite, to be severely punished.98 However, some Islamic lawyers hold that keeping a promise is Khadījah, “Baina al-Aqwāl wal-Af‘āl”, Mudawwanat al-Ghad al-Afḍal, http://vip30.blogspot. co.il/2010/05/blog-post_2043.html. 92 Baṣrī, al-Ḥasan al-, Ijlā’ al-Ṣadīd bi-Maw‘iẓ al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī Abī Sa‘īd (The removal of pus in al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī's exhortations). Shabakat al-‘Ulūm al-Salafīyah. http://aloloom.net/vb/ showthread.php?t=27515. 93 Ibn Manī‘, 1413H. 147. For the speech act of “promise” see Searle, 1969 56 ff. For the future element of the promise—see his condition number 3, p. 57. 94 Qur’ān, 5:1; 9:4; 9:7. Also, Zuḥailī Āthār, 322; 752; Ghazālī, Iḥyā’, III, 132, and many others. Keeping a promise is as telling about a person as does testimony about him. (Ibn Manī’ 1413H., 135). 95 As did the Prophet Muhammad. Ghazālī Iḥyā’, III, 133. 96 Masliyah 1999, 98; Lustig 1988; Keddie 1963; Hamid 2004; Nazzal 2005, 271. 97 Ibn Manī‘ 1413H., 157; Ibn Wahb, al-Jāmi‘, Hadith No. 205. 98 See Qur’ān, 9:73–87. For the concept see “al-Munāfiḳūn.” Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. Edited by: P. Bearman, Th. Bianquis, C.E. Bosworth, E. van Donzel, W.P. Heinrichs. Brill Online, 2014. 91 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier … 101 not an absolute duty.99 A promise of an illegal action must not be kept, and even less dramatic promises are exempt: for instance, according to a hadith, albeit weak, not showing for a meeting does not amount to a crime.100 A promise of greater solemnity is the vow,101 the taking of which the law does not like (Ariff, Nur, and Mugable 2013, 259) and people suspect, to which the proverb “He who swears much lies much”, testifies. Formally, it must invoke the name of God, be made in the mosque and in the presence of witnesses, but in practice it often invokes other entities as well.102 When made in vain, its perpetrator is punished by the denial of seeing God’s face in the hereafter, which most Muslims take seriously (Rosen 1984, 123). However the law makes allowances for vows taken by mistake (Qur’ān, 5:89,) for retracting on a vow, should better options present themselves to the vower (Bukhārī Ṣaḥīḥ, Maghāzī, 73), or when “in sha Allāh ” is pronounced. In such cases, religious expiation is needed (Tirmidhī, Jāmi‘, Abuāb al-Īmān, 18/5). Like promises, threats103 too, are a criterion for judging credibility. The most common sanctions used in Arabic threats are death and public shame (Rosen 1984, 67). They are often nonverbal (Barakat 1973, 777) or implied, e.g. the threat of revenge by a victim, as it is well understood by all. They sometimes take the form of acting against an uninvolved third party: “hit the innocent so that the culprit confess [his crime],” (Tikrītī 1971/1391, 211/408; 410; 411) or allude to a universally known event, such as “Khaibar, Khaibar yā Yahūd”. The commitment to carry out threats is considered lesser than that of promises.104 In Arabic, it can be assessed by three rules of thumb: the degree of particularity, the proportion of severity between antecedent and sanctions, and the frequency of vows in it (Atawneh 2009, 271). When it comes to the normative— absolutistic level, i.e. God’s promise of reward and threat of punishment (al-wa‘d wal-wa‘īd), theodicy allows God’s generosity, grace and freedom to forgive, to go back on the latter (Khādimī Barīqah, 187). As for humans, in some parts of the Arab world, where state law-enforcement is scarce, threats cannot go unexecuted. The social implications for the individual, as well as for his family and the whole society are grave. 99 E.g. al-Turkī 1416H. 446. See Abdullah and Abd al-Rahman 2015 for the legal obligation to keep promises. 100 Abū Da’ūd 1989, 4/29. On the other hand, Ishmael was known for his keeping his promises, to the extent that he waited for twenty two days for a man who forgot to show for a meeting he had agreed to have with him. (Ghazālī Iḥyā’, III, 132–3.) 101 Ariff, Nur, and Mugableh 2013, 259, quoting Abd el-Jawad 2000, 218 for a definition of the vow: “The speech act by which a person binds himself to do or not to do a certain specific physical or juridical act, by invoking the name of God or one of the divine attributes.”. 102 For example, in Jordan, the Prophet Muhammad, the Qur’ān, “Religion”, but also relatives, or body organs. (Al-Mutlaq 2013, 226ff.). 103 Here belong also ultimata and warnings, but I will not treat them in this paper. 104 Searle and Vanderveken 1985, 193. See also empirical research corroborating this difference: Verbrugge, et al. 2004, 110; Verbrugge et al. 2005, 2311. 102 I. Alon Agreements Agreements and contracts, the end for which trust is considered, are promises of greater formality, and therefore much of what is said here about the latter applies to the former as well. Besides the content of a virtual agreement, distrust may result from the way another culture conceives of Agreements, as, according to Ben Ami (2004, 38) happened in the Barak–Arafat negotiations in 1999. The problem gains acuteness when the sides are unaware of this essential difference. Perhaps in the same vein, some Western researchers point out that Islam has, traditionally, no general theory of agreements, which they explain by the objection Muslim lawyers have towards abstraction, systematisation and generalisation (Wakin 1972, 38; Rayner 1991, 89). However, as far as politico-military agreements are concerned, the model of the prophet Muhammad has always been an authoritative guideline (See, e.g. Shaibānī Syar, v, 1780 ff.). Two kinds of political agreements deserve attention, namely the Hudnah and the Amān. The first is a temporary truce with non-Muslims, which is limited to ten years, and is subject to constant reevaluation (Khadduri 2016; Khadduri 1955, 216; Hill 1971; Bishai 1972). The other, the safe conduct, is awarded to a surrendered enemy for one year, and breaking it is tantamount to treason (Kulainī 1980, V 31, 5; Khalilieh 2016). Normatively speaking, agreements reached between Muslims, especially commercial ones, are considered final, not to be reopened, as long as both parties have not annulled them, or until they reach their pre-agreed expiration date.105 Keeping agreements is an obligation (Zuḥailī, Āthār, 322,16; 752,16), which determines one’ place in the religious (Zuḥailī Āthār, 131), and social informal hierarchy (Ikle 1964, 7). God Himself made agreements with prophets (Rosen 2010, 16), and was a witness to others (E.g. Ḥamidullah 1956. 358). It is on His model that early Muslim leaders were keeping their agreements, a fact recognised even by their enemies.106 In modern times, Hafiz al-Asad (Rabinovitch 1998, 73) and King Hussein have been known for respecting agreements. The claim that Islamic law is relatively tolerant towards breaking agreements (Shimizu 1989, 14) is partial, in the best of cases.107 Yet, lawyers are divided as to the absolute nature of the duty, especially when the agreement in question is with non-Muslims. The principle known as “Maṣlaḥah” allows, according to some lawyers, a Muslim commander to break an agreement reached with the enemy. The condition for such a step is a tactical superiority for the enemy, but once the Muslims regain it, they must resume the battle (al-Shaibānī Syar, v 1697, 5). Some 105 Baghawī 1987, Tafsīr, Surah 8:59, vol. 2, p. 257. Hill 1971, 50; 74; e.g. Heraclios, in Bukhārī Ṣaḥīḥ, Volume 1, Book 1, Number 6; Saladin— Qal‘ajī 1997, 66,19. 107 For breaking agreements in Islamic law, see Wohidul Islam 1998, 336. 106 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier … 103 lawyers forbid the procedure,108 or at least condition it by divine approval, as is reported about the prophet Muhammad (Shāfi‘ī 1403/1983, III, 106, 13). In modern practice, Egyptian students were found to be less ethically troubled by not-keeping agreements than were their American colleagues (Marta et al. 2003, 12). The most celebrated case of breach of agreement that is ascribed to Islam is the conquest of Mecca, mere two years after the Ḥudaibīyah agreement had been signed by the prophet Muhammad and the Meccans. Muslim lawyers explain it as retaliation for a prior breach by the enemy (Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, III, 42; (de Goeje) I, 1618). By contrast, the Chalif Mu‘āwīyah (d. 680 AD.) freed Byzantine hostages he had held, in spite of the massacre of Muslim ones by the Byzantines, stating that abiding by agreements is preferable to breaking them, even in retaliation.109 Deceit Finally, deceit (khidā‘) is a special case of lying. It is defined as causing one’s interlocutor to evaluate falsely the opposite of one’s harmful intentions towards him (Baiḍāwī, Tafsīr, 2:9). Normatively, in its commercial form, deception (ghashsh) is prohibited by the Qur’ān (11:85–6) hence, by the Sunnah (Bukhārī II, 85, 18). It eradicates any blessing from the deal in question (Ibn Ḥanbal 1997, 63), and even excommunicates perpetrator (Tirmidhī, Jāmi‘, Buyū‘, 72). Typical cases of commercial deceit are selling someone else’s property as one’s own;110 cheating on weights and measures;111 concealing details of merchandise on sale;112 etc. In practice, proclivity to deceit is universal, especially towards the stranger (Rivers and Lytle 2007, 21), and merchants are particularly suspect, as their very trade is believed to be founded on falsity and deceit (Dimashqī 1977/1397, 64). Viewed from the outside, US and UK negotiators rated misrepresentation to opponents as “significantly less appropriate than Middle Eastern negotiators”. (Rivers and Lytle 2007, 9). Conclusions “Respect and Suspect” In this survey, I have tried to present some elements of a complicated picture of the linguistic differences between Arabic and low-context languages as a barrier to 108 Nawawī 1985/1405, X 339, 5; al-Shaibānī Syar, V, 1697. Ḥamidullah 1956, 395; Ibn al-Kharrāṭ, Kitāb al-Aḥkām al-Wusṭā, III, 320: (Quoted in Busoul 1998, 74). 110 Baihaqī, 1344, V, 339: Prohibition on selling an item that is not the seller’s property. 111 Bukhārī Ṣaḥīḥ, I, 111: Need for fixed measures and weighs. 112 Bukhārī Ṣaḥīḥ, II, 76, 17: Lies and concealment that nullify commercial deals. 109 104 I. Alon building trust. Overcoming this barrier seems particularly important at the present time. The paper’s main question is in what ways trust is hindered between speakers of Arabic and those of other languages, even before entering matters of substance. The centrality of language for culture is such that its contribution to identity, thus, to attitude to others, as well as its reigning over every walk of culture’s life, inflates the power of these differences. As distrust is also engendered by difference, it is the point of departure in intergroup relations. Therefore, one must entertain the possibility that another party’s behaviour means something other than one’s immediate (and often negative) interpretation. Arabic differs from American English (the language of choice for comparison in this paper,) in very fundamental senses. It is believed to enjoy a superior religious and human position over all other languages; its role in creating identity seems to surpass that of many other languages; it emphasised social relations more than factuality, precision and efficiency of communication. Its high-context nature frames most of the differences of details from other, low-context languages: indirect style that might appear as avoiding a point; orality that might be interpreted as verbose muddying of the water; ambivalence that can be taken for keeping all options open at the expense of the Other; the importance of form along with substance, that for a Westerner is putting the cart before the horses; the weighty role of the tacit and concealed, the constant need for interpretation, the rules for which the foreigner lacks; the conspiratorial attitude that for the guest is a clear message of distrust on the part of the Arab; the important role of emotions in argumentation that shifts the discussion away from objectivity; and other traits as well. We have looked into some aspects of the perception of truth and falsity, reality, knowledge and facts as they are manifest in Arabic. Perceived differently, to a certain extent, by Westerners, they constitute ground for distrust. Behaviours that are associated with trust have been touched, namely the promise, threat and agreement, where the differences from other culturalists appear to be less accentuated. The only way that I can think of to overcome the linguistic barrier to trust, on both its banks, is to learn the language of one’s interlocutor as profoundly and as empathetically as possible. No claim is made that distrust on the part of the other party only springs out of linguistic differences, but at least by learning Arabic, one’s tool-kit is expanded. Given that building trust requires an initial modicum of it, the very willingness to learn the other party’s concept of trust113 may well be that modicum. Acknowledgments I should like to thank my friends and colleagues who read the manuscript and contributed to it considerably: Danni Bar-Tal, Benzion Bezalel, Neil Weiner. 113 See above, Bar-Tal et al.’s point that Trust and distrust are learned. 6 Some Comments on Language as a Barrier … 105 References Abd el-Jawad, H.R. (2000). A Linguistic and Sociopragmatic and Cultural Study of Swearing in Arabic. Language, Culture and Curriculum 13(2):217–240. ‘Abbūd,’. A., & ‘Abd al-’Āl, Ḥ. I. (1990). Al-Tarbīyah al-Islāmīyah wa-taḥaddiyāt al-‘aṣr. (Islamic culture and the challenges of the age.) al-Qāhirah: Dār al-Fikr al-‘Arabī . Abdullah, F., & Abd al-Rahman, A. (2015). The Theory of ‘Promise’ (Waʿd) in Islamic Law. Arab Law Quarterly, 29(2), 168–189. Abū Da’ūd, Sulaimān b. Isḥāq (d. 817 AD). (1989). Sunan. Al-Riyāḍ: Maktab al-Tarbīyah al’Arabī li-Duwal al-Khalīj. Abū Qaḥf, ’A. M. (n.d.). Binā‘ al-Maharāt al-Taswīqīyah fī Fann al-Bai‘ – al-Tafāwuḍ – Takhṭīṭ al-Ḥamlāt. 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Chapter 7 Usual Suspects: On Trust, Doubt, and Ethnicity in the Mishnah Ishay Rosen-Zvi Halakhic literature is full of discussions of reliability and suspicion, which offers a fascinating image of social relations along with continuous legal attempts at regulating them. In what follows, I will try to decode these concepts as they appear in the Mishnah, the earliest legal code of rabbinic Judaism. The analysis of the Mishnah will lead us to a model of trust which is radically different from our own. I will try to show that the Mihsnaic concept of suspicion and trust is not a matter of interpersonal, subjective relationship but of social policy, and is therefore subject to generalized rules. The most crucial effect of this is the blanket distinction between Jews and Gentiles. “Trust” and “faith,” mean two very different things to our ears, but were originally one and the same concept, both denoted by the Semitic root: AMN. A person who “believes” in God is someone who trusts God to make good on his promises.1 One trusts God in exactly the same sense that one trust ones fellow. It is the latter aspect of the term, trusting a fellow human being that will occupy us here. I will try to show that even this mundane and “secular” context of AMN is radically different from the current connotations of the term. Modern legal systems discuss expansively the reliability of persons in legal procedures, in both criminal and civil contexts (i.e., as “suspects” and as witnesses). But interpersonal trust is usually excluded from the legal realm, which is built on sanctions and obedience rather than faith. Only when two people arrive at the courtroom, the social realm of trust and confidence enters the jurisdiction of the law, and their reliability is examined with tools of contract law or the laws of obligations. Not so with the Halakhic system. It is predicated on the will of the See e.g. s.v. ‫ אמן‬in NIDOTTE 1:427-433 and the bibliography there. For the danger of anachronism in discussing Biblical “faith” see Fredriksen 2014, idem, 2014a. 1 I. Rosen-Zvi (&) Department of Hebrew Culture Studies, Tel-Aviv University, Tel Aviv-Yafo, Israel e-mail: irosenzvi@hotmail.com © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_7 117 118 I. Rosen-Zvi individual to lead a pious life, and thus is filled with questions of reliability. If one wishes to follow the laws of purity, tithes or the sabbatical year—how can he (and the Mishnah usually refer to its addressee as a “he”!) trust to provide him with suitable food? On whom can he count? Adherents of the system are required to be pious, but they are also expected to live a normal and normative social life. How can these two be complemented? A good place to begin examining this tension is tractate Demai in the Mishnah, which discusses the laws of produce from which tithes may or may not have been taken. Remarkably, the produce itself is less interesting to the Mishnah than the ways in which its status came to be.2 It is the various kinds of doubt created by the social relationships that occupy the better part of the tractate, which is thus an important key in any attempt to reconstruct the dynamics of trust and suspicion in the Mishnah. Aspects of Suspicion and Reliability in the Mishnah “Suspicion” (hashad) is used in two related—but different—manners in the Mishnah. The first is a ruling applicable to a certain situation. For example A woman who left [the communal cooking area in the courtyard, then came back] and found her peer poking at the coals under a pot of terumah [sacred food which must remain pure], Rabbi Akiva declares it impure […] for women are voracious, for she is suspect (hashuda) of uncovering the pot of her peer [causing impurity to the contents] (Mishnah, Tohorot 7:9) Women, per se, are not more apt to cause impurity to terumah than men, but the specific situation of communal cooking causes a suspicion that the pot of terumah was opened by someone insufficiently pure to handle it. On the other hand, “suspicion” also functions as a category applicable to certain persons, rather than situations. For example: “those who are suspect (hashudim) regarding oaths” or “those who are suspect regarding the sabbatical year.” This dual meaning—suspects persons versus situations which foster suspicion—is even more apparent with regard to the opposite category, that of reliability.3 Neeman (“a reliable person”) is both a type of person, a member of a group of people (much like the haver), and a specific legal ruling regarding the trustworthiness of people in a certain situation.4 Both meanings appear together in Mishnah Demai 4:6: Demai is any doubtful produce from the market, and is unrelated to the ‘am ha-aretz especially. See Alster 2013. The connection between the two institutions (“‘am ha-aretz le-ma’aserot”) is not earlier than mid second century CE. See Furstenburg 2013. 3 “Suspect” (hashud) and “unreliable” (eino neeman) are interchangeable terms. See e.g. Mishnah, Maaser Sheni 5:3. 4 In her dissertation, Alster (2009) claims that Mishnah, Demai is made of two disparate collections of mishnayot, and that “reliable” means different things in each section: in the ‘am ha-aretz section “reliable” is attributive, whereas in the section on demai it is predicative. She further claims that 2 7 Usual Suspects: On Trust, Doubt, and Ethnicity in the Mishnah 119 He who enters a town and does not know anyone there, and say: “who here is reliable (neeman)?” “Who here tithes?” If someone said “I am,” he is not reliable. If he said: “so-and-so is reliable,” he is reliable. The man who entered the town asks for someone who is “reliable” to take food from, and is answered “so-and-so is reliable.” Both the question and the answer are about certain people who are members of a class of people who are in the habit of tithing and can be relied upon to supply suitable produce. The law at the end of the Mishnah, however, rules that the person who is the subject of the Mishnah is reliable in that situation, for that specific answer alone. But in fact the attributive “reliable” is closely connected to the predicative one: the former is but a reification of the latter, turning it into a characteristic of a person rather than of a situation. It is not the linguistic process per se—the making of predicate into an adjective—that is of interest here, but the cultural one, namely the process of reification. This process will reach its apogee, as I will show below, with regard to gentiles. The following two adjacent laws in Mishnah Demai exemplify both the distinction between and the proximity of “suspicion” as describing persons and situations: He who gives [produce] to an innkeeper woman [for safekeeping] – tithes [i.e. should tithe] what he gives her and what he takes from her, for she is suspect (hashuda) of exchanging [the produce] […] He who gives [produce] to his mother-in-law–tithes what he gives her and what he takes from her, because she is suspect (hashuda) of exchanging that which has gone bad. (3:5–6) Women who kept inns did not usually have reputations for piety (see Mishnah, Yevamot 16:7), and it is this dubious reputation that causes the special law with regard to them. In contrast, the second law is about mothers-in-law, a group of women who have nothing in common except their relationship to men who are married to their daughters. The mother-in-law in Mishnah Demai is not more or less pious or reliable than other women. It is only the specific encounter with her son-in-law that makes her rash, and this might cause her to act without regard for the halakhic consequences. As Rabbi Judah explains: “she desires the benefit of her daughter, and is ashamed of her son-in-law.” Her will to supply her daughter with fresh food may bring her to exchange the produce given to her with a newer supply; while her shame may prevent her from telling her son-in-law about it. The combination of the two will lead to a halakhic snafu. The difference between the two cases above is highlighted by R. Jose’s amendment to the law of the innkeeper woman: “we are not responsible for cheaters. He should only tithe what he takes from her.” The basic law however remains the same, despite the fact that the (Footnote 4 continued) only the former collection is directed at “he who is reliable regarding tithes,” who is responsible for tithing everything that comes under his control, while the second collection—earlier in provenance—is addressed to the common Jew and offer guidelines for general behavior. See Alster 2009. See however my critique below, n. 9. 120 I. Rosen-Zvi innkeeper woman is suspect as a matter of identity (“cheaters”) while the mother-in-law is suspect due to the situation. The distinction remains blurry. The mother-in-law might lie not only because she loves her daughter or son, but also because she dislikes her son-in-law or daughter-in-law. The Mishnah thus rules: “all are reliable for testimony regarding [a woman whose husband died], except her mother-in-law, and the daughter of her mother-in-law, and her sister’s wife (tzara),5 and her levirate-sister [i.e., the wife of her husband’s brother, whom she will now be obligated to marry], and the daughter of her husband” (Mishnah, Yevamot 15:4). The Bavli ad loc. explains that all these female relatives of the husband happen to hate his wife: “Why does a daughter-in-law hate her mother-in-law? For [the latter] tells her son everything [the former] does.” Both friend and foe are disqualified by the Mishnah for testimony: “Friend—this is his groomsman; foe—this is someone whom he has not spoken to for three days because of enmity” (Mishnah, Sanhedrin 3:5). Love and hate, however, have their limits. A mothers-in-law, says R. Judah, “is not suspect of feeding her daughter with [forbidden] sabbatical produce” (Demai 3:6), and will not compromise the law of the sabbatical year for the sake of feeding her daughter better food. It is all dependent on the situation. Even reliability. It too can be an attribute of the situation, without saying anything about the character of the person in question. Tax collectors, who have the same legal standing as thieves, are still relied upon to say “we did not touch [the food in the house]” in case that “the fear of a gentile [inspector] is upon them” (Tosefta, Tohorot 8:5). Being publicans and sinners, it is not their upright character that made them believable, but the objective condition. Even as an adjective, “suspect” is confined to a certain context. People are “suspect” of certain things only. “He who is suspect regarding the sabbatical year, is not suspect regarding tithes” (Mishnah, Bekhorot 4:10). The Mishnah arranges suspects by the areas of their supposed illicit activity: “suspect regarding firstborn animals” (Mishnah, Bekhorot 4:8), “suspect of selling terumah as if it were mundane produce [the former has a lower price]” (ibid), or “suspect regarding oaths” (Mishnah, Sheviit 7:1). The general rule is that “he who is suspect regarding something may not rule on it or testify about it” (Mishnah, Bekhorot 4:10, 5:4; cf. “they are not reliable for the things regarding which they are suspect” Mishnah, Nida 7:5).6 Thus, even where someone is suspect, this suspicion is only about certain things which the Mishnah explicates in great detail.7 A good example is the following Mishnah: 5 Hatred between sister-wives is famous in rabbinic literature. The rabbis even apply in this context the verse “let me die with the Philistines” (Judges 16:30), meaning that a wife may be even willing to harm herself just in order to harm her sister-wife as well (b. Yevamot 118b, 120a). 6 The latter law is about Samaritans. On the Mishnah’s inclusive attitude towards them, especially in its earlier layers, see Elizur 1999. 7 Thus, the second half of Mishnah Bekhorot 4 is devoted to distinguishing between items which may or may not be bought from various “suspect people.” 7 Usual Suspects: On Trust, Doubt, and Ethnicity in the Mishnah 121 A woman may lend her peer, who is suspect regarding the sabbatical year, a winnower and sieve and a millstone and an oven. But she should not sift or grind with her. The wife of a haver [who is strict about purity] may lend the wife of an ‘am ha-aretz [a layperson, who is suspected about purity]8 a sifter and a sieve, and she may sift and grind and winnow with her. But when she adds the water [to the flower; from which moment it can contract impurity] – she should not touch her [dough], for we do not strengthen the hands of sinners. And all of these were said because of “the ways of peace.” (Mishnah, Sheviit 5:9 = Gitin 5:9). Suspicion is thus a combination of the suspected person and the specific situation. But not only. There is a third element: the suspecting subject. Someone who is “reliable” regarding tithes is charged with suspecting those around him, and thus should tithe everything that he touches: “he who accepts upon himself to be “reliable” [neeman] must tithe what he eats, and what he sells, and what he buys” (Mishnah, Demai 2:2). This “reliable” person, a certified tither, must also not spend time in the home of the “am ha-aretz.” His role is to suspect. Responsibility and suspicion are thus two facets of the same phenomenon: the “reliable” person feels (read: ought to feel) a responsibility to assure that the produce in the market is tithed. Mishnah Demai Chap. 3 discusses the boundaries of this responsibility. It opens thus: Charity-collectors – The House of Shammai say: they give the tithed to those who do not tithe, and the untithed to those who tithe, and thus everyone may eat tithed food. The sages say: they collect in general [i.e. they do not ask or separate] and they distribute in general. And those who wish to tithe may do so. (Mishnah, Demai 3:1) Similarly, the Mishnah rules that “He who took greens from the market and wanted to return them—may not return them until he tithed them” (Mishnah, Demai 3:1) The greens became the “reliable” responsibility, and thus he must return them to circulation in a state that fit for consumption. This is also the context of the term: “we are not responsible for cheaters,” i.e., we do not have to consider illicit actions part of our responsibility. The whole chapter thus discusses the limits of the responsibility of the “reliable” person.9 What is missing from these Mishnah units are the subjective markers of interpersonal relationships, that we are so used to pair with trust. The long-term, gradual construction of trust between two persons is missing from the Mishnah in entirety. Instead it is about halakhic policy which is based on generalized assumptions. This is how we get to the concept, quite oxymoronic from our perspective that a person who is “reliable” is in fact charged with “suspecting” those around him. On “Am-Haaretz” see Oppenheimer 1977. Alster (see above n. 5), only looked for places where the terms “reliable” and “’am ha-aretz” explicitly appear, and thus did not notice this characteristic. But in fact this is the logic of the entirety of chap. 3 in tractate Demai, and what distinguish it from chapter 4, which discusses the consumers who are responsible only for themselves. For the “reliable” as a “professional tither” who tithes all the produce he comes into contact with see Furstenburg 2010. 8 9 122 I. Rosen-Zvi Reliability and Halakhic Policy The Mishnah features, in two places, a list of people who are disqualified from testimony because they engage in dubious practices: “he who plays with kubeia [dice], he who lends at interest, those who fly pigeons, and those who deal in sabbatical produce.” These people are considered “suspect regarding money,” (Tosefta, Sanhadrin 5:5) and their oaths are considered dubious as well (Mishnah, Shevuot 7:4). This suspicion has traditionally associated these professionals with thieves who take money that is not theirs.10 Orit Malka, however, shows that this description does not accord with the character of the original list in the Mishnah. “The disqualified witnesses in the Mishnah are characterized by the fact that none of them takes money from another against their will.” The Bavli (Rosh-Hashana 22a) has to go a long way to turn the gamblers on the list into “rabbinicly-proscribed thieves.” Malka thus suggests: “the sin is not the crux of the matter, but rather the motivation. Despite the differences in the illegality of their deeds, all four categories on the list are motivated by greed.”(Malka 2014, 40 and 36, respectively). This seems to close in on characterizing these people as “unsavory characters,” disqualifying them not due to their actions, but because of who they are. But Malka shows that this disqualification is unrelated to suspicion. Rather it is a sanction for those who break communal norms. This explains why these people, whose illicit dealings are limited to the realm of money, are disqualified from all testimony, including about the new moon or witnessing a marriage or a divorce. In Mishnah Rosh Ha-Shanah 1:8 they are also compared to women (“every [type of] testimony that a woman is not apt [kosher] for, they are not apt for too”), who are also second tier citizens according to the Mishnaic policy. This is not a matter of trust, but a policy decision which applies categories to certain groups of people. This law does not mark suspicious individuals but demarcates the borders of the decent society.11 Indeed, suspicion and reliability are sometimes mandated by blanket rules. Thus, during the three festivals the Mishnah makes all Israel are considered reliable regarding purities (Mishnah, Hagigah 3:7–8). However, this fictive status dissolves (retroactively!) right after the festival.12 Understanding the role of general policy in the shaping of reliability standards can resolve various contradictions in the rabbinic halakhic system. Thus, Mishnah Tohorot 7:6 and Hagigah 3:6 present opposing rulings on the reliability of thieves The Tosefta adds “robbers and plunderers (hamsanim)” (t. Sanhedrin 3:5) to the list. See Malka 2014, 22–26. 11 Malka believes that this reading can be applied to the exclusion of women from testimony as well. Women are disqualified from testimony in matters that require two witnesses (i.e., a quorum), not because of lesser reliability—they are believed as single witnesses—but because they are of lesser civic status. 12 See y. Hagigah 3:6, 79d and b. Hagigah 26a. See also Knohl 1991, who dates this polemic to Second Temple times. 10 7 Usual Suspects: On Trust, Doubt, and Ethnicity in the Mishnah 123 and tax collectors who entered a house. Are they relied upon when they say “we touched nothing,” or is all the food in the house rendered impure by implication? Hagigah rules that they are reliable, while Tohorot rules that house is impure (unless they are accompanied by a gentile, about which see below). The Talmuds on Mishnah, Hagigah attempt to resolve the two opposing traditions (y. Hagigah 3:6, 79c; b. Hagigah 26a), and some scholars attempted to discern a development in attitudes regarding Roman taxation. Yair Furstenburg, however, claims that the differences originate from a wider aim in Mishnah, Hagigah “to extend reliability to all in the public sphere.” Hagigah 3:4–6 extends the boundaries of the reliable because it wishes “to mark boundaries, in space and time, in which commerce may be safely conducted,” and “to fix comprehensive market rules to simplify the consumption of pure foods” (Furstenburg 2010, 279, 281 and 283, respectively). Reliability, like suspicion, is a matter of policy. Suspicious Jews and Unreliable Gentiles Mishnah Avodah Zarah 2:1 rules: We do not place animals in gentile inns, because they are suspect regarding bestiality. And a woman may not be secluded with them, because they are suspect regarding fornication. And a man may not be secluded with them, because they are suspect regarding murder.13 This suspicion is substantially different from the suspicion applied to Israelite discussed above. Jews are suspect, due to deeds or situations, regarding the fulfilment of various commandments, while gentiles are suspect regarding crimes. Such suspicions can be found not only in military context (e.g., Mishnah, Ketubot 2:9) but also in mundane realms, such as hair cut: “an Israelite who take a hair cut from a gentile, should look at the mirror [that the gentile does not harm him with his razor], but from a Samaritan—he does not have to look” (Tosefta, Avoda-Zara 3:5). Gentiles are also considered liars by nature, and thus their testimony is always suspected. The Mishnah rules that testimony regarding the death of a husband is valid “By Israel—when they intend [to testify], but regarding gentiles—if they intend, their testimony is invalid” (Mishnah, Yevamot 16:5). Gentiles are only believed when they unintentionally provide details about something that happened (b. Yevamot 121b). If gentiles are universally suspect, similar attempts can be found in the Mishnah to make Israel universally reliable. We saw above that R. Judah rules in the Mishnah that “friend and foe” are disqualified for testimony (Mishnah, Sanhedrin 3:5). However, the sages disagree: “Israel are not suspect regarding this [i.e. to falsify their testimony out of love or hate].” This statement is used to quell suspicions built into the system, for example those between sages and ‘am ha-aretz. 13 On this Mishnah see Noam Zohar, 2009 and my critique in Rosen-Zvi 2014. 124 I. Rosen-Zvi If an ‘am ha-aretz said, this is untithed (tevel), and this is terumah; this is certainly untithed (vadai), and this is doubtfully untithed (demai) – although they [i.e., the sages] said “he who is suspect regarding something may not rule on it or testify about it,” [nonetheless] Israel are not [considered] suspect regarding this (Tosefta, Dem. 5:2). R. Judah said, a bachelor should not herd small cattle [i.e., sheep or goats], and two bachelors should not sleep in one cloak. but the sages say: Israel are not suspect regarding this (Tosefta, Kid. 5:10) (see Rosen-Zvi 1999.) This law in Tosefta Demai that limits the suspicion directed at Jews ends by an opposite ruling that gentiles are not to be believed, for “the words of a gentile do not matter.” The two opposite generalizations, however, are not really symmetrical. The Mishnah assumes that different kinds of Jews are reliable in different ways and to a different extant, whereas gentiles are discussed in a stereotypical and generalizing way. Gentiles are gentiles.14 Surprisingly, however, gentiles are not considered to have any specific intent to cause Jews to err in the ways of their Torah. In Mishnah, Tohorot 7:6 discussed above, tax collectors who enter the house are not reliable when they say “we did not touch [food]” and therefore everything in the house is impure. But: “if there is a gentile [inspector] with them, they are reliable when they say: ‘we entered, but we did not touch.’”15 The Tosefta ad loc. (Tohorot 8:5) explains “because the fear of the gentile is upon them” (cf. b. Hag. 26a). Reliability here derives from the bureaucratic system—the gentile (i.e., Roman) inspector is charged with seeing that the rules are kept, and he does his job—but it would be impossible had the gentile been suspect of evil intentions regarding Jewish purity laws. A good example is found in the laws of gentile wine in Mishnah Avoda Zara 4-5. Sascha Stern showed that gentiles are understood as compulsive libationers in the Mishnah, which is why any wine left with them even for a minute is considered unfit for drinking. But they do this, according to the Mishnah, with no mal intent. This is just who they are. Stern further shows that this rabbinic perception is totally ungrounded in the reality of Roman cultic libation, being a ritual practice reserved for set and well defined situations and times. Stern is unsure how to explain this image. Are the rabbis casting this uncontrollable urge to libate as to differentiate the Pagans from the regulated and orderly Jewish Temple libations? Or perhaps just the opposite: this is a kind of “interpretatio rabbinica,” marking gentiles as similar to themselves, with their habit of invoking their own God over food, drink, and nature? Could this be simply a joke at the expense of the gentiles?16 Might the rabbis be attempting to deliberately Indeed, in t. Terumot 2:1-2 R. Judah uses this rule to relax a sweeping suspicion, but ends “but it is all according to his character,” (lefi ma she-hu ish). 15 This is the original version of the Mishnah (Furstenburg 2010, 274). 16 In truth, this motivation would be more fitting for an aggadic discussion. The only “joke” on idolatry with legal implications might be Mishnah, Sanhedrin 8:6 which rules that Baal-Peor is worshipped by defecation (po’er atzmo, a pun!). See also the expansive (and hilarious) description in Sifre Number 131 and b. Sanhedrin 60b. This is still however a far cry from the detail and seriousness of the laws of libation in Mishnah, Avoda-Zara 4-5. 14 7 Usual Suspects: On Trust, Doubt, and Ethnicity in the Mishnah 125 intensify the element of intent inherent in the process, for the act itself is almost impossible to detect? At the end of the day, the key most likely lays simply in the general image of the gentile: “Pagan libations were conceived, in rabbinic imagination, as chaotic, irrational, compulsive and wild.” (Stern 2013, 41). Thus, gentiles are not suspect of trying to lead Jews astray, but instead are pictured as unrestrained, compulsive, and lacking in basic morals. This is simply, says the Mishnah, who they are. In fact—as I show elsewhere—this is implied already in the very conceptualization of “gentile,” which is a generalized and binary concept, a mirror image of the Jew. Gentility has no independent content, except for their being non-Jews (and this is indeed how gentiles where called in medieval Jewish writings) (Ophir and Rosen-Zvi 2012). In the second century BCE Letter of Aristeas the laws of forbidden foods are rationalized thus: We are separate (diestalmetha) from all men. For most other men defile themselves in their sex and in this they shall sin greatly, and lands and countries all take pride in this. And not only do they sleep with men, they also defile their mothers and their daughters. But we are separate (diestalmetha) from this (152). “The nations” here are a plurality, not a unity. But this completely changes with the emergence of the unified “gentile,” as we see in this Tannaitic homily: See how you are different from the nations: in the nations a man decorates his wife and gives her to another, a man decorates himself and gives himself to another (Sifra, Qedoshim 5:2 [ed. Weiss, 93c]). While in Aristeas, one nation is distinguished from the many, in Sifra there are already two unified entities juxtaposed with one another.17The nations do this while “you” do that. Aristeas thus features realistic reasons for the accusation: “this is what most (pleiones) people do”; “cities and lands all (holai) take pride in it.” Similar realistic concerns can be found in other Jewish Alexandrian compositions.18 Even more details appear when the author discusses idolatry (135–138), meticulously separating Greek from Egyptian habits.19 Neither here nor elsewhere in the letter is there a unified, essentialist characterization of the ethne (Tcherikover 1958). The Sifra, in contrast, features “the nations” as a proper noun which requires no detail or recognition of plurality. Thus, unlike Aristeas, the Tannaitic Midrash feels no need to apologize or simply account for the generality of the accusation. 17 In the next sentence in the Sifra the binary assumption is manifested in the picture of the “nations” as having one king, Nebuchadnezzar, who is contrasted to God, the king of the Jews: “And I will separate you from the nations for me—If you are separate from the nations, you are to be mine, and if not, you shall belong to Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, and his companions”. 18 Cf. Wisdom of Solomon 14:20–25: “and the multitude, attracted by the charm of his work […] and all is a raging riot of blood and murder […]”; Philo, Spec Leg I 30: “Moses, being well aware that pride had by that time advanced to a very high pitch of power, and that it was well guarded by the greater part of mankind”. 19 See Beavis 1987, who claims that the section is outspokenly anti Egyptian, while seeking to remain on the same side with (educated) Greeks. Cf. Philo, De Spec Leg III 22-23. 126 I. Rosen-Zvi Let us conclude: “reliability” in the Mishnah is made up of three components: various assumptions regarding reality, strong group categorization (men and women; Jews and non-Jews), and public policy (e.g., the will that all Jews make pilgrimage). Reliability thus oscillates between hair-splitting distinctions between people and situations, and far reaching generalizations, the epitome of which is the distinction between Jews and gentiles. These three components make up the social world of the Mishnah, where there are individuals who are charged with suspicion limited by a will and a need to maintain proper social relations with those who do not share your ethos. I leave it to my readers to judge what we can learn from the sages’ their world for our own. All I have attempted is to offer a comprehensive image of the “economy” of trust and suspicion, as meticulously regulated in a Jewish legal text from the high Roman Empire. References Alster, R. (2009). Hebetim datiyyim ve-hevratiyyim shel hilekhot demai be-siferut hazal, (Religious and social aspects of the laws of Demai in rabbinis literature), Ph. D. Diss., Bar-Ilan University. (Hebrew). Alster, R. (2013). Demuto shel ‘am ha-aretz le-or dinei ma’aserot, (The image of the ‘am ha-aretz in light of the laws of Tithes). Netu’im 18, 101–124. [Hebrew]. Beavis, M. A. L. (1987). Anti Egyptian polemic in the Letter of Aristeas 130-165. JSJ, 18, 145– 151. Elizur, J. (1999). Ha-Kutim be-divrei ha-Tannaim, (Samaritans in Tannaitic Literature). In J. Elizur, Y. Elizur, and A. Frisch (Eds.), Israel ve-hamikra: mehkarim ge’ographiyim, historiyim ve-hagutiyim (Israel and Scripture: Geographic, Historical and Ideological Studies) (pp. 393–414). Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press. [Hebrew]. Fredriksen, P. (2014a). How later contexts affect Pauline content, or: Retrospect is the mother of anachronism. In P. J. Tomson & J. Schwartz (Eds.), Jews and Christians in the first and second centuries: how to write their history (pp. 17–51). Leiden: Brill. Fredriksen, P. (2014b). Paul’s letter to the Romans, the ten commandments and pagan ‘justification by faith’. JBL 133, 801–808 Furstenburg, Y. (2013). ’Am ha-aretz ba-siferut ha-tannait ve-heksherav ha-hevratiyyim, (’Am ha-aretz in Tannaitic Literature and its Social Contexts), Zion 78, 287–319. (Hebrew). Furstenburg, Y. (2010). Akhila be-tohorah bi-takufat ha-tannaim: massekhet Tohorot ve-hekshereiha ha-historiyyim ve-hatarbutiyyim. (Eating in a state of purity during the Tannaitic period: Tractate Teharot and its historical and cultural contexts). PhD Diss. The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. (Hebrew). Grabbe, L. (Ed.), (1997, 2003). Wisdom of Solomon [T and T Clark study guides]. London: T & T Clark International. Knohl, I. (1991). Pulemos ha-kitot bi-yeme bayyit sheni ve-ha-askolot ha-kohaniyyot she-ba-Torah: she’elat shituf ha-am be-avodat ha-mikdash ba-moadim. (Participation of the People in the Temple Worship — Second Temple Sectarian Conflict and the Biblical Tradition). Tarbiz 60, 139–146. (Hebrew). Malka, O. (2014). Admissibility of Evidence in Talmudic Law: the Case of those Disqualified from Testimony. MA Thesis, Tel Aviv University. (Hebrew). Oppenheimer, A. (1977). The Am Ha-Aretz: a study in the social history of the Jewish people in the Hellenistic-Roman period. Leiden: E. J. Brill. 7 Usual Suspects: On Trust, Doubt, and Ethnicity in the Mishnah 127 Philo of Alexandria. (2013). De specialibus legibus (I-IV). De virtutibus. De fortitudie. De humanitate. De paenitentia. De nobilitate. De praemiis et poenis. De exsecrationibus. Philonis Alexandrini opera quae supersunt; volumen V. Berlin: De Gruyter. Rosen-Zvi, I. (1999). The evil inclination, sexuality and yichud: a chapter of Talmudic anthropology. Theory and Criticism 14, 55–84 (Hebrew). Rosen-Zvi, I., & Ophir, A. (2012). Goy: Toward a Genealogy. Dine Israel, 28, 69–122. Rosen-Zvi, I. (2014). The Birth of the Goy in Rabbinic literature In I. Rosen Zvi, G. Bohak, and R. Margolin, (Eds.). Myth, mysticism and ritual: Studies in the relations between Jewish and religious studies, Ithamar Gruenwald Festschrift (Te’uda: Studies of the Hayim Rosenberg School for Jewish Studies in Tel Aviv University, 26) (pp. 361–438). (Hebrew). Sifra, with commentary by RABaD and Messorat ha-Talmud by I. H. Weiss, Vienna, 1862 Stern, S. (2013). Compulsive libationers: non-Jews and wine in early rabbinic sources. JJS, 64, 19–44. Tcherikover, V. A. (1958). The ideology of the Letter of Aristeas. HTR, 51, 59–85. Zohar, N. (2009). Boundaries Between a Shared Cultural Space: Gentiles and their Images in Mishnah Avodah Zarah. Reshit 145–64. (Hebrew). Part IV Trust in the Israeli - Palestinian Conflict Chapter 8 Trust and Mistrust in Israeli Peace-Making Galia Golan Introduction Trust has many definitions and usages in international relations and conflicts, but it is basically the belief or conviction that one’s protagonists are sincere, i.e., that there is credibility that they will do what they commit themselves to do, will honor their agreements. This belief may be based on many elements, most of all, perhaps, the perception of the protagonists. This perception itself may be influenced by intelligence, history, past experience, ideology, preconceived notions, and more. The absence of trust may not necessarily be the same as distrust but rather uncertainty regarding future behavior of the other, for example, their capacity to implement an agreement, particularly to deal with spoilers; the trustworthiness of successors in future leadership or regime change. It is difficult to measure trust (or distrust) but the perceived degree of risk or threat may be good indicators. Yet, often one must deal not only with a leader or negotiator’s trust or distrust of the protagonist but also with that of the public, both one’s own and that of the other side (Putnam). And the absence of trust, but particularly distrust, may be self-perpetuating or “self-fulfilling prophecy” inasmuch as it may influence perceptions and misperceptions of the other. All of these aspects of trust may be found in Israel’s negotiations with its adversaries over the years. Indeed, while not the only factor, the element of trust, or absence of trust or actual distrust, has played a central role with regard to both failures and breakthroughs in efforts for agreements with Jordan, Egypt, Syria and the Palestinians since 1967 (Golan 2014). This chapter shall examine two instances in some detail, Jordan (1967–68) and Egypt (1971, 1973, 1977–79), and look briefly at subsequent efforts.1 1 1. For further instances and greater detail, see Golan (2014). G. Golan (&) Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Israel e-mail: ggolan@idc.ac.il © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_8 131 132 G. Golan Limitations of space prevent an examination of the role of trust in all the negotiations since 1967 but one underlying conviction on the part of almost all Israeli leaders was, as Yitzhak Rabin put it: “no Arab leader will ever make genuine peace with us” (Rabin 1996, 263) which may be translated to “the Arabs will never accept our legitimacy in this place.” Rabin believed this could change, as we shall see below, but he also understood that this conviction had become part of Israelis’ identity, their sense of victimhood and isolation, deeply ingrained and internalized over the years,2 generating anything but trust. This attitude was apparent in the early government discussions and subsequent talks with King Hussein in the weeks and months following the 1967 war. The 18– 19 June 1967 deliberations of the entire cabinet (with the exception of Abba Eban who was in New York for the UN meetings), over the future of the newly acquired territories were posited on the assumption, expressed by numerous government ministers, that an Israeli “peace offer” should be formulated for the upcoming UN sessions despite the fact that it was clear the Arabs would not accept any offer. And since this was the case, Israel’s demands (e.g. for demilitarizations) should not be presented as terms for peace agreements—which clearly could not be achieved, but rather simply Israel’s demands, regardless of the prospect for peace.3 The solitary comment by Police Minister Eliyahu Sasson that King Hussein appeared to have made a conciliatory speech was quickly discounted with the overwhelming conclusion that even if a deal were made, it would not last.4 Yigal Alon made the comment that they “should not look upon Hussein as there forever—they [the Jordanians] could have a different ruler, sign a pact with the Soviet Union or…?”5 Nor could a deal be trusted; Eshkol maintained peace would not be enough since it would not be quiet even with a peace agreement, “we know who we are dealing 2 Knesset speech, 13 July 1992, Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA), Historical Documents, 1992– 1994, Parens. www.mfa.gov.il/Archive). 3 Israel State Archives (ISA),a-8164/7, Protocol, Government Meeting, Document 2, 18 June 1967. Eshkol, among others, suggested this; some ministers challenged whether Israeli conditions should be delineated only as a tactic or if a real offer should be considered at least in talks amongst themselves. Defense Minister Moshe Dayan said it was safe to speak of conditions for peace since the Arabs would not agree to a settlement anyway. 4 Ibid. and Document 3, 19 June 1967, Minister of Police, Eliyahu Sasson. Only one participant, Education Minister Zalman Aranne suggested that holding onto the West Bank “will only bring us sorrow,” though Finance Minister Pinchas Sapir expressed concern over the large number of Arabs, and Justice Minister Haim Shapiro spoke of the risk of a binational state if the territories were annexed and citizenship granted the inhabitants. 5 19 June 1967 and again on 30 July 1967 in support of holding onto the West Bank, (Alon 1989, 28). Many other ministers made similar comments, e.g., Israeli Galili: “I think that we must prepare ourselves to hold on to the territories conquered by the IDF, on the assumption that there will not be interest on the part of the Arabs to negotiate for peace. The time factor is of the greatest importance for our steadfastness in the face of pressures… and all kinds of ‘peace on earth’ proposals that will have nothing to do with ensuring our interests.” [my rough translation] (op.cit, Document 3). 8 Trust and Mistrust in Israeli Peace-Making 133 with.”6implying that any deal would be broken by the Arabs. More concretely, trust in King Hussein had not been encouraged when, prior to the war, Jordan had violated a 1963 commitment not to introduce heavy armor into the West Bank, had tolerated Fatah incursions into Israel from Jordanian territory, and had attacked Israel despite the latter’s assurances on 5 June 1967 that Israel would not attack Jordan. However, all these had occurred in a time when there were only understandings rather than a formal peace agreement between the two states. The result of this distrust was the 18–19 June 1967 decision that no matter what would be done within the territory of the West Bank (creation of an autonomous entity or limited state for the Palestinians, or return in part to Jordan) the Jordan Rift Valley must be under Israeli sovereignty and the Jordan River would constitute Israel’s eastern border. Once the “Jordanian option” was adopted some months later, this decision remained for the various reasons already stated and on the grounds that if there were a peace agreement, there would still be the need for a strong border against invasion even by one of Jordan’s neighbors (implication that the agreement would not hold). In the 2 July 1967 Israeli-Jordanian talks in London, initiated by King Hussein, this decision was not revealed but it became known over the ensuing months, particularly through the Americans,7 and ultimately it was incorporated into the Alon Plan presented to Jordan in 1968. The Americans were concerned that this position would be a deal-breaker with Hussein; indeed both Dayan and Eban knew this would be the case.8 Throughout the post-1967 period King Hussein, directly and indirectly via the Americans, had been presenting various proposals to accommodate Israeli security concerns. For example, in August 1968 he told the Americans that he would not place the Jordanian army in the West Bank if there were a peace agreement, needing no more than minimum forces to preserve public order. He was also willing to consider border “rectifications” (probably in the Latrun area), although there was no sign that he would agree to Israeli military control or sovereignty over the Jordan Rift Valley.9 From Hussein’s point of view, as expressed to the Americans, a peace agreement should eliminate any need for security measures (such as demilitarization) to reassure Israel.10 This, however, was not the way the Israeli leadership saw things. While some may have been convinced that Jordan 6 ISA, op.cit., Document 2, also cited in Tzoref (2002), 580. Only one member of the government mentioned that King Hussein had made some moderate comments a few days before. (Minister of Police Eliyahu Sasson, ISA, op.cit., Document 2). 7 Department of State, History Division, Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), XIX, Document 505, “Telegram from the Department of State to the Embassy in Israel,” 5 November 1967. 8 Pedatzur (1996), 103 (on Eban), Shifris (2010), 334 (on Dayan); see also, Yanai (1988), 104. 9 FRUS, XX, Doc. 227, “Telegram from the Embassy in Jordan to the Department of State,” 3 August 1968. King Hussein appears to have been willing to consider other Israeli territorial demands in the nature of minor adjustments, for example, the Latrun area. (FRUS 1964–68, XX, Arab-Israeli Dispute, 1967–68, Doc. 221, “Telegram from the Embassy in Jordan to the Department of State,” 20 July 1968.). 10 FRUS XIX, Doc. 331, “Memorandum of Conversation” (between King Hussein and President Johnson), 28 June 1967. 134 G. Golan would somehow, ultimately, accept Israel’s demand for the Jordan Rift Valley, the government was willing to forego peace should this not be the case. At the time, distrust demanded security measures—precautions—even to the point of preferring these measures over the “risk” of peace. The second deal-breaker with Jordan was the decision also adopted in the 18–19 June 1967 government deliberations to annex East Jerusalem. This decision was obviously based on historic, emotional and religious factors, though it too carried an element of the security/distrust factor. This could be seen in the decision of 25 June 1967 to triple the size of East Jerusalem. The additional territory provided a correction to the precarious position of the city which, prior to the war, had jutted into the West Bank, surrounded on three sides by the enemy, with the Jordanian Legion poised on the walls between East and West Jerusalem. Moreover, the discussions on just how far to expand the city’s borders were largely guided by the consideration of how much of the West Bank could then be annexed were Israel to withdraw11—again a security consideration on the assumption that there would not be peace or that peace would not hold. A possibly more important link between the Jerusalem decision and the matter of distrust lay in the fact that Jerusalem—and particularly the Temple Mount—was the symbolic as well as physical embodiment of the legitimacy of the Jewish state in this place. This sentiment was vividly expressed by the secular commander of the IDF unit that broke through to the Temple Mount, General Motta Gur who told his troops: Endless words of longing have expressed the deep yearning for Jerusalem that beats within the Jewish heart. You have been given the great privilege of completing the circle, of returning to the nation its capital and its holy center…”12 Israel of 1967 apparently continued to need not only the security precautions but also the still illusive legitimacy of its presence. Sovereignty in all of a greatly expanded Jerusalem appeared therefore more important than peace—a peace that could not be trusted, if obtained, in any case. While these deal-breakers were adopted from the outset and remained unchanged, one may argue that the decisions of the Arab League meeting in Khartoum in August 1967 proved the distrust fully justified. The resolution of the meeting ended with a pledge of what Israel was often to recall as “the three No’s”—no recognition, no negotiations, no peace with Israel. Yet, distrust may actually have led to a misinterpretation of the Khartoum decisions, thereby reinforcing the distrust that lay at the base of Israel’s positions. The Khartoum resolution actually opened with a call for diplomatic steps, that is political rather than military measures, and this for 11 Dayan argued against a very broad expansion proposed by General Rehavam Ze'evi (Gandhi), on the grounds that such a large annexation would include too many Palestinians (Pedatzur 1996, 117–118). 12 www.sixdaywar.org/content/ReunificationJerusalem.asp (CAMERA Committee for the Accuracy of Reporting on the Middle East in America). 8 Trust and Mistrust in Israeli Peace-Making 135 the return of the territories lost in 1967; it did not call for liberation of the territory lost in the 1948-49 war and it did not call for the destruction of the state of Israel. In fact, for the Arabs, the resolution represented a moderate stance that resulted from Egyptian and Jordanian pressure for albeit indirect negotiations for a limited goal: return of their territories. Indeed, because of this Egyptian-led position, the Syrian leadership had refused to attend and the PLO representatives left in protest, refusing to sign the resolution (Sela 1998, 103–106). King Hussein regarded it as the moderate Arab position he had been seeking in order to proceed with his efforts for an agreement with Israel, already condoned by Egypt. And to further this trend, roughly three months later both Egypt and Jordan agreed to UNSC Resolution 242 which had the same limited territorial demand and included the right of all states in the region “to live in peace within secure and recognized boundaries.” Yet, the peace promised in this resolution—like that proposed by King Hussein—was trusted less than the preferred “security” of the lands Israel insisted upon keeping. Similar examples of distrust—and therefore “security” demands—taking precedence over peace may be found in the Israeli reactions to Egyptian peace proposals in 1971 and 1973 prior to the war. Golda Meir later wrote: “The Arab leaders pretend that their real objective is limited to reaching the lines of 4 June 1967, but we know their true objective: the total subjugation of the State of Israel.” And “I have never doubted for an instant that the true aim of the Arab states has always been, and still is, the total destruction of the State of Israel [or that]…even if we had gone back far beyond the 1967 lines to some miniature enclave, they would not still have tried to eradicate it and us.”13 Even Rabin was more than skeptical of Sadat’s 1973 proposal (conveyed by Hafez Ismail to the Americans) calling it “the toughest Egyptian proposal we have ever had.”14 The reason, according to Rabin, was that the proposal included a clause calling for the return of the Palestinian refugees—a demand often interpreted by Israelis as meant to flood Israel with Palestinians, who would then outnumber the Jews and effectively end Israel as the state of the Jews. Kissinger too dismissed Ismail’s message, telling Nixon that the State Department’s evaluation of it as a “great breakthrough” was “total nonsense.”15 One may argue, as Meir’s advisor Mordecai Gazit did, that Sadat’s 1971 proposals were not really peace offers,16 but in April 1973 the evaluation was that 13 Meir (1975, 364, 365). Meir was also distrustful of the Americans, ever fearful that they might make a deal with the Soviets regarding a return to the 1967 lines (the dreaded Rogers Plan). See Rabin (1996, 209, 211). 14 FRUS XXV, Doc. 31, “Memorandum of Conversation,” 27 February 1973. 15 FRUS XXV, Doc. 24, “Conversation Between President Nixon and his Assistant for National Security Affairs (Kissinger),” 23 February 1973. 16 Gazit, (head of the Prime Minister’s office at the time), (1997, 97–115). His analysis is challenged by others who placed credence in Sadat's responses to Jarring's proposals in 1971: “The United Arab Republic Reply to Ambassador Jarring’s Aide Memoire, February 15, 1971,” document in Moore (1977, 1151–1153) read: “When Israel gives these commitments [per resolution 242] the UAR will be ready to enter a peace agreement with Israel…” (1153); Whetten (1974, 147), Spiegel 1985, 204). 136 G. Golan the offer was genuine. It was the underlying distrust that led to rejection, dictating, rather, retention of key security assets (Sharm el-Sheikh, the Gidi and Mitla passes) instead of opting for peace.17 As Meir’s chief advisor Israel Galili put it: “All this system [of Egyptian war threats] is the outcome of the fact that we are not ready to return the former [1967] line. Apparently, if you take what Hafiz [Ismail] had said … the starting point is that they are ready for peace and a system of agreements and international guarantees etc. — all these on condition that we fully return to the former border.”18 These security considerations remained even after the Yom Kippur War, as then Prime Minister Rabin explained to the Americans during the difficult 1974 talks for an interim agreement with Egypt. This is when Rabin made the comment: “No Arab ruler is prepared to make true peace and normalization of relations with Israel.” (Rabin 1996, 263.) For that reason “Israel could not,” he said, “go back to the 4 June 1967 lines,” which borders he characterized as having been “the cause” of the 1967 war, adding: “We need defensible borders, and those are not the same as 4 June lines.” (ibid.) As he explained to President Ford, “when we talk of peace, I mean by this our existence as a Jewish state, with boundaries we can defend with our defenses…the Arabs stress total Israeli withdrawal to the pre-June 1967 lines, which we consider practically indefensible.”19 Ignored, or disregarded as unreliable, was the peace that would come with such a withdrawal, i.e., that “defensible borders” of this type—relatively distant passes or specific terrain, might not be needed. Rather, it was preferable that Israel be prepared for the next war, as it were, rather than take a chance on (trusting) a peace agreement. However, following the “reassessment” declared by the US in these talks, due to Israel’s intransigence, Rabin changed his position regarding an Israeli withdrawal to a line behind the passes, altering his concept of what might be defensible,20 though he still did not trust the Egyptians to move into the evacuated passes—the Americans were to take charge of the early warning stations that Israel had sought to keep. Rabin justified this concession regarding security with the comment: “a line” in the “great wastes” 17 While in 1971 the Israeli position was sovereignty over Sharm el-Sheikh, by 1973, Meir appeared amenable to the American proposal for just an Israeli military presence, not sovereignty. (Rabin 1996, 191–218 and FRUS, 1969-1976, XXV, Arab-Israeli Crisis and War, 1973, Doc. 33, “Memorandum From Harold H. Saunders of the National Security Council Staff to the President’s Assistant for National Security Affairs (Kissinger),” 1 March 1973.). 18 Bar-Joseph (2006, 553) citing transcript made by Hanoch Bartov at the 17 April 1971 meeting (Bartov 2002). 19 FRUS, XXVI Arab-Israeli Dispute,`` Doc. 183, ' Memorandum of Conversation,`` 11 June 1975. 20 Sharm el-Sheikh was not demanded in these talks although Rabin had commented once to the Americans that he cared little about Sharm el-Sheikh, saying “we just want to be there until we see a commitment to peace that is solid.” (FRUS, XXVI, Doc 183, ' Memorandum of Conversation,`` 11 June 1975.). 8 Trust and Mistrust in Israeli Peace-Making 137 of the Sinai desert was meaningless (as distinct from the situation of “populated areas in the Israeli heartland”) (Rabin 1996, 272.) Security, that is continued military presence even if limited to a smaller area, still took precedence over a peace that might come with full withdrawal. However, unlike his predecessors, Rabin did allow that there could be change in the future. He spoke of partial agreements and stages “that will secure a lowering of military activity and create conditions enabling us to test the intentions of each Arab country, to see whether or not it seeks peace.”21 He told President Ford that “there is an accumulation of suspicion that must be cleared on the way to peace…In order to change attitudes in the area it would take a very long time.”22 His reference was also to the need for change in Israeli attitudes, to one of trust, that could only be accomplished if “the act of withdrawal marks the real beginning of progress towards peace by deeds and words that demonstrate the intention of peace.”23 It was Sadat who understood and tackled the matter of trust directly, with his dramatic visit to Jerusalem in November 1977. Referring to the importance of the psychological aspects of the conflict and expressly relating to Israel’s history and fears—including the contribution of Arab hostility to those fears, Sadat repeatedly promised “no more war.” While the visit itself and the public declarations were designed to convince the Israeli public of his sincerity, he was even more explicit in his remarks to the Israeli Knesset. Though he repeated the usual demands for Israeli withdrawal from all the territories occupied in 1967, including “Arab Jerusalem,” and the need to create a Palestinian state, Sadat addressed Israelis’ most visceral need for Arab recognition of the state’s legitimacy as part of the region. He advocated several times “an Israel that lives in the region with her Arab neighbors in security and safety,” adding “In all sincerity I tell you we welcome you among us with full security and safety.”…“Yes, today I tell you, and I declare it to the whole world, that we accept to live with you in permanent peace based on justice.” And “As we really and truly seek peace we really and truly welcome you to live among us in peace and security.”24 To a large degree Sadat’s efforts did whittle away at public distrust; opposition to returning the Sinai plummeted from 39 % in 1976 to just 16 % November-December 1977 (Arian 1995, 102). While opposition to returning Sharm el-Sheikh was reduced only from 80 to 74 %, a year later some 75 % of the public supported the Camp David Agreement with its return of all of Sinai including Sharm el-Sheikh (Ibid., Yaacov Bar-Siman-Tov 1994, 150–152.) The Yom Kippur war itself had its effects, of course, along with the decline in public trust of the government produced by the war (that had led both to Meir’s MFA, Rabin Speeches, Volume 3: 1974-1977. See also, early Rabin references to testing “in practical terms” Arab intentions, Interview, Israel Television, 20 September 1974 (MFA, Vol. 3: 1974–1977). 22 FRUS, XXVI Arab-Israeli Dispute, Doc.183, “Memorandum of Conversation,” 11 June 1975. 23 In a letter to Kissinger. (FRUS, XXVI Arab-Israeli Dispute, Doc.144, ' Memorandum from the President’s Deputy Assistant for National Security (Scowcroft) to the President,`` 13 March 1975.). 24 “Documents Related to the Peace Process Between Israel and Her Neighbors,” www.knesset. gov.il. 21 138 G. Golan resignation in 1974 and the eventual replacement of Labor governments by the Likud of Menachem Begin in 1977), but the visit did accomplish much in the way of creating trust (See also Guttman 1978). While trust played a role in the attitude of the Israeli public, it may not have been sufficient for the leadership. The question remains: was the creation of trust by Sadat’s visit (or the breakdown of distrust), the key—or the only key—to the breakthrough achieved with Egypt? Citing a traditional saying, Begin explained immediately after the visit that while he thought Sadat was sincere, “‘one should respect people but not trust them too much.’”25 Indeed this was his attitude throughout the subsequent negotiations in which he demanded not only demilitarization of the Sinai, but also retention of the military airfields and other security measures. Ultimately, even after agreement to fully evacuate Sinai, and other concessions, lingering distrust was evident in Begin’s insistence upon separate letters to President Carter regarding certain issues, opposition to including parts of UNSC resolution 242 in the text of the Camp David Agreement, and insistence upon such things as article VI of the final peace accord of the phrase “… in the event of a conflict between the obligations of the Parties under the present Treaty and any of the other obligations, the obligations under this Treaty will be binding and implemented.”26 And, reminiscent of Yigal Alon in the past, even then Defense Minister Ezer Weizman, participant in and enthusiastic supporter of the peace talks with Sadat, told the Egyptian leader: “Do you really imagine that because of [your visit] we can place all our trust in your hands? Today you are president, tomorrow not. Israel’s existence cannot be dependent on you.”27 Yet, Israel did forego all the previous security concerns that had blocked an agreement in Golda Meir’s time. Limitations on numbers of Egyptian police in Sinai, together with a multi-national peace-keeping force authorized by Israel and Egypt, were considered sufficient “security.” Presumably the former general Weizman and others were willing to rely on Israel’s military deterrent strength in place of trust. For Begin, however, distrust was second to the greater risk that he perceived and that had served as his major motivation for peace with Egypt. This “risk” was defined more by ideology than by trusting the Egyptians or not; it was linked to the possibility of losing parts of eretz Israel now in Israel’s possession—the West Bank and Gaza Strip. Upon entering office Begin had sought a meeting with Sadat, not only out of concern over the possibility of future war (he was indeed deeply struck by the losses in the Yom Kippur War) but also out of concern over pressures coming from the new American president, Jimmy Carter.28 Not only was Carter trying to organize a resumption of the Geneva Conference, designed to forge a comprehensive peace, i.e., an agreement regarding all fronts, but the new US president had also begun to talk about Israel State Archives (ISA), a-4270/1, “Meeting of the Government; 24 November 1977.” MFA, Israel-Egypt Peace Treaty, 26 March 1979. 27 Maariv, 24 March 1978. 28 For more detailed account, see Golan (2015). 25 26 8 Trust and Mistrust in Israeli Peace-Making 139 Palestinian rights and the need for a Palestinian “homeland.”29 And this at a time of growing international support for the PLO (viz. Arafat’s appearance at the UN and the 1975 UNGA “Zionism is Racism” resolution). A separate agreement with Egypt might deflect these pressures and be offered up as Israeli fulfillment of UNSC resolution 242. Additionally, perhaps more concretely, agreement with Egypt might weaken both Jordan and the Palestinians – the real challengers to Israel’s hold on the West Bank. And while Begin may not have had greater trust in Egypt than his predecessors, he did have great respect for legally binding documents. In sum, it was not so much a matter of trusting Egypt, or the absence of distrust, but rather a willingness to forego the distrust-related security measures demanded in the past, and accept only the most minimum of precautions—a (painfully) carefully worded, legally binding agreement, rather than forego a peace accord and risk confrontation with what was perceived as a greater “threat” to Israel’s future (from an ideological point of view)—namely the loss of parts of eretz Israel.30 Thus the basic issue on the Israeli side, whether with Jordan or Egypt, was not so much to trust or not trust the adversary, but, rather, whether or not to allow the absence of trust regarding a peace agreement—namely the measures deemed necessary to compensate for the absence of trust—stand in the way of a peace agreement itself. Presumably it was the duty of the Israeli military to recommend optimum (and perhaps also minimal) conditions; it was up to the political echelon to weigh not only the importance of these but also their potential impact on the possibility of achieving an agreement itself. That peace—in the form of a legally binding treaty - would provide the needed security could only be estimated— relying on very little past experience, available intelligence and many non-quantifiable factors. Thus an element of uncertainty would remain. Looking briefly at subsequent peace efforts, it would appear that Rabin and possibly Sharon, both of whom were military as well as political leaders, sought a middle road, of testing.31 For many reasons Rabin sought to end the conflict with both Syria and the Palestinians when he came to power in 1992, but in neither case did he have much trust in his adversary. Indeed, distrust was the quality that most characterized Rabin’s peace efforts with Syria primarily, perhaps, because Syria had long been the most militant of Israel’s adversaries, late in accepting resolution 242 and refusing negotiations until its reluctant participation in the Madrid Conference of 1991 while supporting Hizballah against Israel and continuously serving as host 29 16 March 1977 speech in Clinton, Massachusetts (AP, 17 March 1977). For a detailed analysis of Begin’s negotiating techniques, see Golan (2015). 31 Sharon was considering further measures; at times he related these to a testing of Palestinian sincerity and capability following the disengagement from Gaza, other times he spoke of ending the occupation of the Palestinians, and he indeed looked into the evacuation of settlements from the West Bank, beyond the four virtually empty ones included in the 2005 disengagement. (MFA, “The Disengagement Plan—General Outline,” 18 April 2004; CNN, transcript of Ariel Sharon's speech at the Egypt summit, 8 February 2005; MFA, “PM Sharon Addresses the United Nations General Assembly,” 15 September 2005;) Weisglas (2012). Arik Sharon- A Prime Minister: Personal Account (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yedioth Aharonot-Sifriat Hemed; Landau (2014). 30 140 G. Golan to various violent, rejectionist Palestinian groups. Yet, the fact that Syria had scrupulously observed and regularly renewed the 1974 disengagement agreement on the Golan Heights indicated a degree of credibility. Further, Rabin was to comment that in the case of Syria, as distinct from the Palestinians, there was at least a clear address, that is, an authoritative leader capable of making hard decisions.32 He even went so far as to say to the Americans that he respected Asad as someone who was true to his word (Ross 2004, 90.) Moreover, Israeli experts were now of the opinion that Asad was genuine in his proclamations of peaceful intentions.33 Nonetheless, Rabin was supremely skeptical regarding Syria, and this skepticism actually grew stronger, rather than weaker, as Asad resisted Israeli (and American) suggestions for confidence building measures or a Syrian-Israeli summit meeting. Similarly to earlier Israeli demands with regard to the Jordanians or the Egyptians, Rabin sought security measures that would minimize a future threat from Syria, for example, not only Israeli early warning stations on the Golan (or Hermon) but also a thinning of Syrian troops around Damascus and other measures.34 Asad, like other Arab leaders before him, asked why such things were needed in time of peace.35 But it was in fact the distrust of Asad’s view of the nature of peace that most concerned Rabin, and he pressed repeatedly for assurances (which he did not receive36) regarding what he called the nature of the peace, saying the “depth of the withdrawal would equal the depth of the peace.” More concretely, and in keeping with his skepticism about trusting the Arabs, Rabin sought a long period of testing. Namely, a period of stages, optimally 5 years, of phased withdrawals to be matched by diplomatic and other steps. Most of all, his distrust was evidenced by his refusal to clarify directly Israel’s commitment, that is, just how far Israel would withdraw in the end. And this in turn fed Asad’s distrust of Rabin, particularly after the Americans had led Asad to believe that there was an Israeli commitment to retreat to the 4 June 1967 line. Indeed the mutual distrust led to misinterpretations that merely fortified the skepticism on both sides. One of the most important of these revolved around the January 1994 Clinton-Asad meeting in Geneva during which Asad had provided, in a joint written statement with Clinton, a commitment to “normal, peaceful 32 Maoz (1995, 127), Rabinovich (1998, 55), Ross (2004, 88–89), Indyk (2009, 181). For example, Maoz (1995, 206–207). Though some believed that Asad merely sought improved relations with the Americans by engaging in talks with Israel, as distinct from actually seeking return of the Golan. 34 For all that Rabin was willing now to speak of peace (to the Knesset) as a component of security, he still defined security in primarily military terms. Positing a continued attitude of enmity on the part of the partner to the peace agreement, one needed to be able to prevent a surprise attack, as explained to an American military delegation by then chief of staff Ehud Barak, April 1994 (Rabinovich 1998, 140) or be prepared for a lesser violation of a treaty. 35 For example, Seale (2000, 72). 36 The ad hoc Syrian confidence building measures, such as a 1993 visit to the US by a group of Syrian Jews, had not assuaged Rabin’s concerns over the nature of the peace that would reign between Israel and Syria. 33 8 Trust and Mistrust in Israeli Peace-Making 141 relations,” as part of a “strategic choice” for peace with Israel (Ross 2004, 139). At the closing Clinton-Asad press conference the US President said that Asad had stated “clearly that it is time to end the conflict with Israel, make peace with Israel, that the peace should lead to normal and peaceful relations.”37 Asked if Asad’s agreement to normal relations meant full diplomatic relations, trade and tourism, Clinton responded affirmatively. Asad was then himself asked: “Are you clearly stating unequivocally today that in exchange for full Israeli withdrawal from the Golan Heights, Syria would be prepared to establish normal diplomatic relations with Israel, including open borders, including tourism, the same kind of peace treaty that Israel established with Egypt?”38 Asad responded with the comment “Myself and President Clinton completely agreed on these issues, the requirements of peace. We will respond to these requirements.”39 The Americans were elated by the meeting, primarily because of Asad’s written commitment to normal, peaceful relations with Israel (Indyk 2009, 107; Ross 2004, 140.) Yet, Rabin had quite a different interpretation, influenced perhaps by his earlier disappointment over Asad’s response to Rabin’s proposals in August 1993. He dismissed Asad’s comments on normal relations as “nothing new.”40 And his subsequent announcement of his intention to hold a referendum on any agreement with Syria was seen (by the equally suspicious Syrians) as an additional Israeli-created obstacle (Seale 2000, 65–77.) It is difficult to know if it was Rabin’s distrust—his hesitations, cautiousness and even misinterpretations—that impeded agreement; many other factors including public opinion and political spoilers at home played a role. Moreover, Asad was not an easy interlocutor; he himself was largely responsible for a halt to talks in the summer 1995 over a procedural issue. It is a fact, however, that Rabin’s distrust increased, rather than declined, over the months of negotiations and, while he did not abandon the effort before his assassination, there are few signs that he believed Asad willing to make the kind of peace Israel demanded. It is also impossible to know if Rabin would have allowed these demands to stand in the way of an agreement after all. Rabin’s successors, Peres, and later Barak, seemed more concerned with public opinion and domestic political opponents than the issue of trust. Peres sought a summit or confidence building measures primarily for the sake of placating the Israeli public—related to trust only in the sense that the public was especially skeptical of Syria’s intentions and generally opposed to relinquishing the Golan. William J. Clinton, “The President’s News Conference with President Hafez al-Asad of Syria in Geneva, January 16, 1994,” The American Presidency Project, www.presidency.ucsb.edu. 38 Ibid. 39 Ibid. See also Indyk (2009, 105). 40 He called in Uri Sagie (then chief of IDF intelligence and participant in much of the negotiations) to illustrate past Asad statements (in Arabic) of this nature, though Sagie was later to say that he viewed repetition of such statements as signs of Asad’s seriousness regarding an agreement, not, like Rabin, the opposite (Indyk 2009, 108). According to Indyk, both Sagie and then chief of staff Ehud Barak believed that Asad’s reference to Israel and normal peaceful relations in the same breath and in the presence of Clinton and the press (as Barak put it) were important. 37 142 G. Golan Actually Peres was an advocate of economic relations as a guarantor of peace; he gave little attention to other, namely security, aspects of an agreement. And, surprisingly, Barak, the former chief of staff, almost dismissed past security demands with the comment that so long as there was monitoring, his major concern was keeping the Syrians away from the water sources. The rest, he said according to US. negotiator Dennis Ross, would work itself out (Ross 521). This would suggest that unlike the case of Rabin (and his predecessors), distrust of the enemy even in circumstances of peace was not a major factor. There is strong evidence that Barak was finally willing to meet Syria’s terms (regarding the exact line for withdrawal) but backed away from agreement due to domestic considerations.41 The Palestinian issue, the core of the conflict, was the one that most directly touched on Israelis’ identity and, as a result, was the one perhaps most affected by deep-seated distrust. Announcing his peace plans to the Knesset in 1992, Rabin sought to address this in several ways. The basis for any peace agreement, he said, would be Arab and Palestinian recognition of Israel “as a sovereign state with the right to live in peace and security.” But he urged Israelis to understand the changes that had taken place in the world and especially the fact that “We are no longer of necessity ‘a people that dwelleth apart,’ and no longer is it true that ‘the whole world is against us.’ We must cast off the sense of isolation that has held us captive nearly half a century….Otherwise we shall be left behind, all alone.”42 To the National Security College he spoke of Israelis’ “siege mentality” and the need to “forge a new dimension to the image of the Israeli.”43 That said, Rabin’s approach was not one of trust but rather of testing, taking what he called “calculated risks.”44 And he built the Oslo Accords accordingly: gradual moves over a five year period in which to build trust (including “people to people” measures to breakdown public distrust, as he envisaged to Americans in 197545). Even after repeated terrorist attacks by Hamas and the Islamic Jihad, Rabin reassured Israelis that “the Palestinians were not in the past, and are not today, a threat to the existence of Israel.”46 Although he initially spoke of Arafat’s “equivocation and lying,” a degree of personal trust did develop between the two.47 41 Sagie (2011, 121), Yatom (2009, 221), Ben-Ami (2006, 243), Clinton 886; Ross (2004, 543– 544), Indyk (2009, 260). 42 Knesset speech, 13 July 1992, MFA, Historical Documents, 1992–1994, www.mfa.gov.il/ Archive). 43 ' What Kind of Israel Do You Want,” Commencement exercises at the National Security College, G'lilot, 12 August 1993 (Rabin 1996, Appendix 1, 397–398.). 44 Translation, Yoram Perry, “Afterword,” in Rabin (1996), 406–407 (slightly more complete than the MFA excerpted version of the 21 September 1993 Knesset speech, www.mfa.gov.il/Archive). 45 See notes 25 and 26. 46 Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin: Ratification of the Israeli-Palestinian Interim Agreement, 5 October 1995 (www.mfa.gov.il/Archive). 47 Rabin said to Ross, adding that Arafat was also undeserving of respect because of past terrorism. (Ross 91). 8 Trust and Mistrust in Israeli Peace-Making 143 Like Ezer Weizman in his earlier comment about Sadat, Rabin said explicitly that while he believed the Palestinians wanted peace, “we place our trust in no one….” but rather would rely only on the IDF should there be a need.48 However, unlike Weizman (and Begin) Rabin wanted to place the IDF on the enemy’s soil, just as Eshkol’s government had decided in 1967 to keep the Jordan Rift Valley for Israel’s protection. Presumably lingering distrust dictated the conditions Rabin outlined to the Knesset on 5 October 1995 in his last speech before the assassination: a “Palestinian entity” that would be “less than a state,” united Jerusalem (including two settlements beyond the expanded municipal boundaries) under Israeli sovereignty; and the “security border…to be located in the Jordan Valley, in the broadest meaning of the term.”49 This left open the question of sovereignty in the Jordan Rift Valley (there had been talks of limiting a presence to thirty years—possibly a new testing period), but the Labor Party Platform of the time clearly demanded sovereignty.50 We cannot know if Rabin would have ultimately let these demands stand in the way of an agreement – preferring security over peace, as he once said51—or if he would have eventually changed his view of security (or the threat), much the way he had changed his earlier estimate of the PLO. Barak too placed his trust in the IDF, alone, but with even less trust of the Palestinians. Some even claim he went into the Camp David summit to expose Arafat’s “true face,” not to make peace.52 It may be, however, that Barak truly believed the Palestinians would accept Israel’s conditions (much the way some in the post-1967 government believed regarding Jordan). While Barak treated the Palestinians as if he did not trust them, his considerations were not based on distrust so much as political considerations, public opinion (as in the case of Syria) and pragmatism. His demand for 8–12 % of the West Bank was intended to accommodate the maximum number of Israeli settlers; he was willing to keep the IDF in the Jordan Valley for as few as 10–12 years (changes in warfare had rendered this area less critical for Israel, according to one military participant in Camp David, and the negotiator Gilead Sher later explained that the IDF presence was demanded more for psychological reasons in connection with anxieties of the Israeli public).53 48 Speech December 1993 (no exact date or occasion listed, Yoram Perry, Appendix G, in Rabin, Memoirs, 413); speech 21 September 1993 (``Afterword,'' in Rabin, Memoirs, 406–407 and www. mfa.gov.il/Archive). 49 Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin: Ratification of the Israeli-Palestinian Interim Agreement, 5 October 1995 (www.mfa.gov.il/Archive). 50 Former Chief of Staff Moshe Ya'alon, as deputy Prime Minister, quoted this speech in an interview as proof that Rabin adhered to Israeli sovereignty over the Jordan Rift Valley. (Haaretz, 14 June 2012.). 51 Address to the Knesset by Prime Minister Rabin Presenting his Government, 13 July 1992 (www.mfa.gov.il/Archive); speech December 1993 (nd., Yoram Perry, Appendix G, in Rabin, Memoirs, 413). 52 E.g., Samih al Abed in Shamir and Maddy-Weizman (2003, 76); New York Times, 26 July 2001. 53 Sher (2006, 34–35). General Shlomo Yanai said leasing or sharing protection of the Palestinian-Jordanian border between Israel, Palestine and even a third party would be acceptable in terms of security. He also said that a small Israeli contingent temporarily would do. 144 G. Golan And, although not said, it was understood that Camp David was about a Palestinian state. In addition to demilitarization, Barak’s security arrangements related more to monitoring, as they had regarding Syria, such as early warning stations and access roads. Yet these were demands that signaled to the Palestinians continued Israeli control, limitations on their freedom of movement and sovereignty—rather than peace (and trust). In addition, Barak’s response on the issue of Jerusalem— specifically the final deal-breaker, the Temple Mount—was put in terms clearly based on a view of Jerusalem as the symbol of the Jewish state’s legitimacy; Barak called it “the anchor of the Zionist endeavor,” even though this effort was largely secular (Sher 2006, 79.) Arafat’s response (that the ancient Jewish Temple had not even been in Jerusalem) (Indyk 2009, 313, 325, Kurtzer et al. 2013, 145) did little to inspire trust that he accepted Israel’s legitimacy here. Arafat apparently believed there would be further negotiations; indeed talks did begin quietly once again, and it is impossible to know if positions would have changed or if the basic distrust would have prevailed. The violence that followed in the second Intifada not only destroyed what little trust might have been created in the early days of Oslo; it actually implanted distrust of the strongest nature on both sides. Yet, Olmert did not seem to suffer from this, though he had the advantage of dealing with a new, demonstrably more moderate PLO leader, Mahmoud Abbas (Abu Mazen). Olmert’s concern with the matter of trust was, apparently, connected not so much with trusting his opponent but rather trying to gain that opponent’s trust, in appreciation perhaps of the asymmetry of the two sides. This was a new feature in Israeli negotiating strategy. Olmert has described both the atmosphere and gestures that he introduced in order to gain Abu Mazen’s confidence; his personal conduct of the negotiations – often in near-total secrecy—was designed to maintain this (Issacharoff 2013). That latent distrust of the Palestinians was not a significant factor for Olmert was evidenced by the fact that the only arrangement the two leaders “finalized” (according to Abu Mazen54) related to security on the Jordan River. Olmert agreed to an international force, most likely NATO under US command, with just two early warning stations inside a demilitarized West Bank (Arieli 2011, 22; Avishai 2011.) Olmert dismissed the need for an Israeli military presence in the Jordan Valley on the grounds that today’s military warfare alleviated the need for such a presence (Issacharoff 2013). Moreover, Olmert—former mayor of Jerusalem—saw governability and peace in the city as far more important than an abstract need for recognition of Israel’s legitimacy as symbolized by the Temple Mount.55 He agreed to an international authority (Israel, Palestine, Saudi Arabia, Jordan and the US) to set the regulations and procedures for the Holy Basin 54 Mahmoud Abbas, ``I Reached Understandings with Olmert on Borders, Security,'' MEMRI, 16 November 2010 (speech in the UAR); ``Meetings of Mahmoud Abbas with Jewish Leaders,'' no date or publisher; and meeting with Israeli MKs on 22 August 2013 (Haaretz, 23 August 2013). 55 Yedioth Aharonoth, 8 September 2010; Yediot Aharonot, 29 September 2008; Maariv, 15 April 2010; Ben Birnbaum, ``It's Just a Matter of Time,'' The New Republic, 19 March 2013). Jennifer Hanin, ``Exclusive: Olmert's Own Words,'' 7 February 2011, actforisrael blog. 8 Trust and Mistrust in Israeli Peace-Making 145 (an area larger than the Temple Mount).56 What prompted Olmert’s attitude was, in part, his pragmatic approach to problem-solving, but it was also a matter of priorities, that is, his perception of the greater risks facing Israel. In particular, the demographic threat to the Jewish nature of the State of Israel if Israel continued to control the occupied territories was perceived as more dangerous than the necessary compromises on these two, formerly deal-breaker issues: security in the Jordan Valley and sovereignty of the Holy Basin. Olmert exhibited a new and somewhat different element of trust. The concern that, even with peace, there might be security problems such as incursions from Jordan into Israel through the Palestinian state—apparently remained. But by agreeing to grant a third party responsibility for security of the border between a Palestinian state and Jordan, Olmert abandoned Israel’s traditional preference to keep security in its own hands. Allocating security to a third party had been considered by Barak and, surprisingly, it was actually introduced by Olmert’s predecessor Ariel Sharon. The unilateral disengagement from Gaza plan originally envisaged continued Israeli military presence on the Gaza-Egyptian border, but intervention by then Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice led to Sharon’s agreement to an EU presence. This was a surprising example of trust, in a third party, though in time it proved unsuccessful. A different element of trust was apparent in the Israeli-Jordanian Peace Agreement of 1994, which unlike the peace with Egypt—or other partial agreements and proposals of the past—did not include such things as peace-keeping forces or early-warning stations or thinning of forces. The Israeli-Jordanian border was to be similar to any between friendly states. This could be attributed to the degree of trust that had developed between the two countries over the years, through many secret meetings and cooperation even of a political-security nature. Yet it may also be explained by the fact that Jordan was no longer representing the far more problematic West Bank, and the strip of land involved bordered distant desert, far from densely populated areas of Israel. Netanyahu reverted to maximum distrust, focusing on the issue of legitimacy, that is, the acceptance of Israel in the region. He demanded not only recognition of Israel, and not only recognition of Israel’s “right to exist”, but recognition of Israel “as the nation state of the Jewish people.” Why this statement, in essence nothing more than a statement, would justify or evoke greater trust than earlier versions is not clear—which is why many believed Netanyahu raised it only as a new obstacle for the Palestinians. But he used this, relatively successfully, to manipulate and convince the Israeli public that the Palestinians do not even recognize Israel. This was not difficult to do given the disillusionment with Oslo, the failure of Camp David, the terrorism of the second Intifada, and the rockets from Gaza. A clear majority of Israelis believe the “no partner” claim; some 67 % of Israelis polled in December 2013 believed that it is not possible to reach a settlement with the 56 Avishai. 146 G. Golan Palestinians.57 With regard to trusting the Palestinians, on a score of 0 (no trust at all) to 10 (full trust), only a score of 3.09 was recorded in a survey of Israeli Jews in December 2013.58 The same study found a surprising 43 % of Israelis believe that “even in the light of history of the two sides’ relations, it is possible to build trust between them,” although 54 % did not believe it possible. Yet, repeated studies of both Israelis and Palestinians indicate that if their present leadership reached a peace agreement, it would receive majority support. One key for Israel—though not necessarily the only one—would therefore appear to be a leadership that would weigh the risks or threat to Israel in a manner that would not allow distrust to stand in the way of a peace agreement. References Alon, Y. (1989). Be-hatira le-shalom (in search of peace). Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad. Arian, A. (1995). Security threatened: Surveying Israeli opinion on peace and war. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press and Jaffee Center for Strategic Studies. Arieli, S. (2011). Zekhut Ha-chashivah, (The right to think) Tel Aviv: Touch Print Press. Avishai, B. (2011, February 7). A plan for peace that could still be. New York Times. Bar-Joseph, U. (2006). Last chance to avoid war: Sadat’s peace initiative of 1973 and its failure. Journal of Contemporary History, 41(3), 545–556. Bar-Siman-Tov, Y. (1994). Israel and the peace process: In search of legitimacy. New York: SUNY Press. Bartov, H. (2002). Dado: 48 Shana Ve-‘od 20 Yom, (Dado: 48 Years and 20 Days More). Sifriat Maariv: Tel Aviv. Ben-Ami, S. (2006). Scars of war, wounds of peace: The Israeli-Arab tragedy. New York: Oxford University Press. Gazit, M. (1997). Egypt and Israel—Was there a peace opportunity missed in 1971? Journal of contemporary history, 32, 97–115. Golan, G. (2014). Israeli peacemaking since 1967: Factors behind the breakthroughs and failures. London: Routledge. Golan, G. (2015). Begin and Sadat: Successful diplomacy. In R. Hutchings & J. Suri (Eds.), Foreign policy breakthroughs (121–147). New York: Oxford University Press. Guttman, L. (1978). The Israeli public, peace and territory: The impact of the Sadat initiative. Jerusalem: Jerusalem Institute for Federal Studies. Indyk, M. (2009). Innocent abroad. New York: Simon and Schuster. Israel State Archives. Official Archives of the State of Israel Issacharoff, A. (2013, May 24). Exclusive: ‘I am still waiting for Abbas to call’. www.thetower.org Kurtzer, D., Lasensky, S., Quandt, W., & Spiegel, S. (2013). The peace puzzle. Washington: USIP. Landau, D. (2014). Arik: The life of Ariel Sharon. New York: Alfred Knopf. Maoz, M. (1995). Syria and Israel. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Meir, G. (1975). My life. New York: Putnam and Sons. 57 INSS Annual Conference, 28 January 2014 (Poll conducted by Yehuda Meir and Olana Bagno-Moldavsky). Poll results among Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza, presented by Khalil Shikkaki at the conference, were virtually the same regarding possible peace with Israel. 58 Ephraim Yaar and Tamar Hermann, Peace Index, December 2013 (Tel Aviv University). 8 Trust and Mistrust in Israeli Peace-Making 147 Moore, J. N. (Ed.). (1977). The Arab-Israeli conflict, readings and documents. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Pedatzur, R. (1996). Nitzahon ha-mevukhah: mediniyut memshelet Eskhol ba-shetahim le-ahar milhemet sheshet ha-yamim (Embarrassing victory: The Eshklol government policy in the territories after the six day war). Ramat Efal: Yad Tabenkin. Rabin, Y. (1996). The Rabin memoirs. Berkeley: University of California Press. Rabinovich, I. (1998). The brink of peace: The Israeli-Syrian negotiations. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Ross, D. (2004). The missing peace. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Sagie, U. (2011). Ha-yad She-kaf’ah (The hand that froze). Tel Aviv: Yedioth Sfarim. Seale, P. (2000). The Israel-Syrian negotiations: Who is telling the truth? Journal of Palestine Studies, 29(2), 72. Sela, A. (1998). The decline of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Albany: SUNY University Press. Shamir, S., & Maddy-Weizman, B. (Eds.). (2003). The Camp David summit—What went wrong? Sussex: Sussex Academic Press. Sher, G. (2006). The Israeli-Palestinian peace negotiations, 1999–2001. London: Routledge. Shifris, A. (2010). Yisrael Galili (Yisrael Galili). Ramat Efal: Yad Tabenkin. Spiegel, S. (1985). The other Israeli-Arab conflict. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Tzoref, H. (2002). Levi Eshkol: Rosh haMemshala haShlishi: Mivhar teudot mePirkey hayav (1895–1969). Jerusalem: State Archive. Weisglas, D. (2012). Arik Sharon- A Prime Minister: Personal Account (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yedioth Aharonot-Sifriat Hemed. Whetten, L. (1974). The canal war. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Yanai, N. (1988). Moshe Dayan, Al tahalich hashalom ve atida shel Israel (On the peace process and the future of Israel) Tel Aviv: Misrad Habitachon. Yatom, D. (2009). Shutaf Sod: Mi-sayeret matkal ve-’ad ha-mosad (Party to the secret: From the elite unit to the Mossad). Tel Aviv: Yedioth Sfarim. Chapter 9 The Role of Trust in the Resolution of the Israeli–Palestinian Conflict Ephraim Yuchtman-Yaar and Yasmin Alkalay Introduction The trust problem in the Israeli-Palestinian relations arose as a result of the fears that emerged in the Arab world following the new Jewish settlement of Palestine, which began in the early 1880s during the Ottoman rule. With the founding of the Zionist movement in 1897, and the historic resolution of the 1905 seventh Zionist Congress that the national home of the Jewish people would be established in “the Land of Israel,” those fears gave rise to an open and profound conflict between the two people. The more that resolution was implemented through Jewish emigration to Palestine, which increased considerably following the Balfour Declaration of 1917, the more the Jewish-Arab conflict escalated, erupting over the years in violent clashes that continue to the present time.1 In historical perspective, it is hard to argue with the claim that the emergence of the Israeli-Arab conflict was an inevitable consequence of the Zionist decision to establish the Jewish national home in the Land of Israel—a land that, from the Arabs’ standpoint, was a territory that belonged only to them.2 As succinctly put by Harkabi (1968:56), “The Arab position was simple and, one might say, natural: opposition to a foreign people coming and taking over an Arab territory.” In game-theory terms, from the standpoint of the Arab world, Jewish settlement of Palestine created a situation that could be defined as a zero-sum game, that is, a situation where one side’s gain inevitably comes at the other side’s expense because 1 For detailed historical accounts of the Arab view of the Zionist movement and the settling of Jews in Palestine, see Harkabi (1968); Lifshitz (1989). For a different perspective, see Morris (1999). 2 See Yaar and Shavit (Eds.) (2001) (Hebrew). E. Yuchtman-Yaar (&)  Y. Alkalay Tel Aviv University, 052-879-7302 Tel Aviv, Israel e-mail: eppie@post.tau.ac.il © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_9 149 150 E. Yuchtman-Yaar and Y. Alkalay there is an absolute clash of interests between the two sides, so that the sum of gains and losses between them is zero.3 The mainstream of the Zionist movement during the Ottoman and the British rule, while rejecting the Arab demand for exclusive possession of all of Palestine, took the position of seeking a territorial compromise in the land west of the Jordan River. Thus its leadership pointed to various benefits that the Arabs could derive from cooperation with the Zionist movement, including a joint struggle against British rule.4 However, the failure to convince the Arab world that the conflict between the two sides did not have to be conceived as a zero-sum game, and that a situation could be created where the Arabs and Jews, while having to make mutual concessions, could also gain mutual benefits, precluded any effort to settle the conflict through a process of negotiations between the sides.5 These historical circumstances fundamentally influenced the role of trust in the Arab-Israeli conflict. Most students of intergroup conflicts agree that understanding the workings of trust and distrust are of paramount importance in the study and resolution of intergroup conflicts. However, so long as the Arab national movement refused to adopt the view that the conflict did not have to be a zero-sum game, the question of trust was not, and could not be, relevant to how the relations between these two national movements evolved. In other words, trust is likely to play a significant role in resolving inter-group conflicts only if the sides are willing to negotiate in good faith and realize that each, for its part, is prepared in advance to relinquish some of its goals. Useful here is Durkheim (1997) concept of “precontractual elements of trust,” where mutual trust based on a sense of moral obligation is a precondition for upholding social or economic contracts in modern society.6 Indeed, as indicated by various precedents from the distant and recent past, when this condition does not exist, especially in the arena of international conflicts, agreements that are signed between the sides can lead to disastrous consequences; examples are the Munich Agreement or the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact in the 1930s. To return to the Jewish-Arab conflict, it appears that in 1988 a turning point in the two sides’ relations occurred following the declaration by the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), which the Arab League had accepted in 1974 as the sole representative of the Palestinian people, that it recognized the state of Israel. 3 See Maschler et al. (2013). The minority within the Zionist movement, whose main representative was the Revisionist movement led by Ze’ev Jabotinsky, opposed a territorial compromise with the Arabs, and its position, expressed in the slogan “There are two banks of the Jordan, this one is ours and so is the other,” was actually a mirror image of the Arab stance. 5 Probably the best-known effort in this vein was the short-lived Faisal-Weizmann Agreement, which was signed in January 1919 by Emir Faisal representing the Arab Kingdom of Hejaz and Chaim Weizmann representing the World Zionist Organization. The agreement committed the parties to promote Arab-Jewish cooperation, the development of a Jewish homeland in Palestine, and the establishment of an Arab nation in a large part of the Middle East. 6 According to Inkeles and Smith (1974), and Inglehart and Baker (2000), trust is a cultural characteristic that emerged mainly in modern, postindustrial society. 4 9 The Role of Trust in the Resolution of the … 151 Thus, about a hundred years after the Jewish–Arab conflict began, and 40 years after the State of Israel was established, for the first time a basis was created for direct negotiations between the PLO and Israel. This declaration by the PLO, along with the Israeli government’s de facto recognition of the “Palestinian representatives” at the 1991 Madrid Conference, paved the way to a basic change in the nature of the conflict. And indeed, a short-time later, Yitzhak Rabin and Yasser Arafat exchanged letters in which the PLO chairman recognized Israel and defined the provisions of the 1968 Palestinian Charter that rejected Israel’s existence as “inoperative and no longer valid.” This exchange led to the signing in 1993 of the Oslo 1 agreement (“the Declaration of Principles”), the explicit goal of which was to put an end to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through a negotiating process based on the principle of mutual compromise. In the context of the present discussion, the significance of this agreement was that for the first time since the beginning of the protracted conflict between the two people, the Palestinians evidently abandoned its perception as a zero-sum game and accepted the view that the two opponents could live in peace beside each other in the disputed territory, on the basis of mutual costs and gains. As a result of this dramatic change, the trust factor became not only relevant but potentially one of the most critical factors affecting the negotiating process that started between the two sides following the Oslo accord.7 Note, however that the decision of both sides to take part in the Madrid conference and to sign the Oslo Accord was not entirely voluntary. Rather, it came only after heavy pressure exerted on them by the American administration.8 With this background in mind, we next turn to present some empirical findings on the evolution of the Israeli-Jewish public trust in the chances for peace since the signing of the Oslo Accord. Subsequently, these findings will be discussed in the context of conceptual and substantive considerations. Methodology In order to assess the attitudes of the Israeli–Jewish public toward the peace process over time, we have used mainly the database of the Peace Index Project, which includes a wide variety of questions concerning the Israeli–Palestinian conflict over time.9 In June 1995, the directors of the project (see Footnote 9) decided to adopt a 7 On the importance of trust in resolving protracted conflicts see, for example, Deutsch (1958, 1973); Worchel (1979); Gambetta (1987); Rousseau et al. (1998); Lewicki (2006); Tam et al. (2009); Bar-Tal et al. (2010, 2015). 8 See: Eisenberg and Caplan (1998); Podeh (2015); Shlaim (2001). 9 The Peace Index is an ongoing project, launched in June 1994, following the Oslo accord of September 1993. Its major aim is to monitor the attitudes of the Israeli public toward the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the chances for its resolution on the basis of monthly surveys conducted continuously under the responsibility of Prof. Ephraim Yuchtman-Yaar of Tel Aviv 152 E. Yuchtman-Yaar and Y. Alkalay pair of questionnaire items that have been used as the basis for the monthly surveys of the “Peace index.” The first item examines the degree of support in the Oslo Accord while the second probes the degree of belief that the Oslo Accord will lead to peace between Israel and the Palestinians in the coming years. As might be expected, the two items were closely related to each other, with an average Pearson correlation of 0.65 (see Hermann and Yuchtman-Yaar 2002). In this study, we have focused on the second question, which was formulated as follows: “Do you believe or do-not believe that the Oslo agreement will lead in the coming years to peace between Israel and the Palestinians?” The possible answers were presented to the interviewees in the form of a five-level scale from 1 (strongly believe) to 5 (strongly opposed). One could also choose the option of “don’t know” or “don’t have an opinion.” With a few exceptions, the two questions were repeated, albeit in two versions that will be explained later, each month in all of the Peace Index surveys from June 1995 to the present. The last survey to be included in this article is that of June 2015. Thus, the data cover a period of 21 years that comprised close to 250 consecutive months.10 To prevent an overabundance of data, several measures were taken. First, instead of presenting the full distribution of the responses on the five-level scales to each of the questions, they will be represented by a single numerical value—their weighted average. Second, because the number of monthly surveys was, as noted, very large, we decided to reduce it substantially by representing each year at regular annual intervals using a weighted average of one month only. Naturally, we chose the month of June—beginning with June 1995, which was, as mentioned, the first month in which the question on belief that the Oslo accords would lead to peace was asked. In other words, the Jewish public’s degree of belief in the Oslo accords was gauged on the basis of 21 monthly averages that were obtained from June 1995 to June 2015. Likewise, for purposes of clarity, the original scale of 1–5 levels was changed using a linear transformation to a scale of 0–100. For example, if all of the answers on the question about belief were “Strongly believe”, the weighted grade was 100. In the opposite case, where all of the answers were “Strongly do not believe”, the weighted grade was 0. Finally, what are the reasons for using two versions of the question on belief? As we will see below, after the failure of the second Camp David Summit in July 2000, which was followed by the eruption of the Second Intifada and the replacement of Ehud Barak by Ariel Sharon as Israel’s prime minister in February 2001, we witnessed a trend of an ongoing decline in support for the Oslo accords and in the (Footnote 9 continued) University and Prof. Tamar Hermann of the Open University. Each survey included 600 respondents who constitute a representative national sample of the adult population of Israel aged 18 and over. The maximum measurement error for the entire sample is ±4.1 % at a confidence level of 95 %. Statistical processing has been assisted throughout the years by Ms. Yasmin Alkalay. http://www.peaceindex.org/. 10 For previous research based on the “Peace Index” data base see for example, Yuchtman-Yaar (1997, 2006); Hermann and Yuchtman-Yaar (2002, 2005). Hermann and Yuchtman-Yaar (1997). 9 The Role of Trust in the Resolution of the … 153 belief that they would lead to a peace agreement. This trend, along with additional data related to attitudes toward the Oslo accords11 suggest that in light of the disappointments with the results of the negotiations based on “Oslo,” they were perceived as irrelevant even among those who had believed at the start that the negotiations would lead to a peace agreement. In other words, within a few years “Oslo” became a “negative brand name” for a significant part of the Israeli-Jewish public. For these reasons, the directors of the Peace Index project decided to create an index of a more general nature that would not focus specifically on the Oslo Accords. The new index—the Negotiations Index, which has been incorporated in the Peace Index surveys since July 2001—is constructed similarly to the Oslo Index, with two monthly questions in which interviewees are asked to indicate, first, to what extent they support or oppose peace negotiations between Israel and the Palestinian Authority, and second, to what extent they believe or do not believe that the negotiations will lead to peace in the coming years. However, in order to examine whether the decline in belief that the Oslo accords would lead to peace stemmed from the stigma that was attached to them or from their irrelevance, the Oslo Index was still used, along with the Negotiations Index for a period of about 7 years. As was expected, the Negotiations Index was consistently higher than the Oslo Index for the whole period that they were used in tandem. Based on this finding, as of June 2008 the use of the Oslo Index ended, and since then all of the Peace Index surveys have only included the Negotiations Index. At the same time, positing that it was worth knowing how the Oslo Index would have looked if the period of overlap between it and the Negotiations Index had continued further, we used a method that enabled estimating the results of the Oslo Index based on the actual results of the Negotiations Index.12 The results of these estimates are presented in the broken part of Fig. 9.1. Descriptive Findings Figure 9.1 presents the monthly averages of the Oslo Index and the Negotiations Index over time. Starting with the Oslo Index, the data reveal that between 1995 and 1999, only about a half of the Jewish public believed that the Oslo Accords would lead to a peace agreement with the Palestinians in the coming Thus, for example, during that period the rate of interviewees who answered “don’t know” to the questions concerning the Oslo process has increased, either because they were too young during the time at which the agreement was signed, or because they were new immigrants, mostly from the Former Soviet Union (FSU), who were not familiar with the Oslo agreement and its background. 12 We first calculated the average gap between the negotiation and the Oslo scores during the years they were used in tandem, and then subtracted it from the score of the negotiation index to obtain the estimated score of the Oslo index. 11 154 E. Yuchtman-Yaar and Y. Alkalay Fig. 9.1 Monthly weighted averages of the Oslo and Negotiations belief indices years, with grades ranging from 43.6 to 50.3. The lowest grade, which was obtained in June 1995, namely the first time of measurement, was to some extent an exception since in each of the next four years (from June 1996 to June 1999) the grades were somewhat higher, with an average grade of 48.6. The highest grade in that period (50.3), which was obtained in June 1999, apparently reflected the modest increase in the optimism of the public before Barak was elected prime minister and during the first months of his tenure. 13 In any event, these findings indicate that already a short time after it was signed, about a half of the Israeli-Jewish public was skeptic about the results of the Oslo agreement. Moreover, following the failure of the Camp David Summit in July 2000, which was attributed by the large majority (67 %) to the Palestinian side, and the outbreak of the Second Intifada shortly later, the Oslo Index declined by 26 points, so that in the June 2001 its grade stood at 24. Furthermore, except for three consecutive years (2003–2005) in which the index rose slightly for reasons discussed below,14 it continued to decline slightly but consistently, and by the last time that the Oslo Index was measured (June 2007), its score dropped to 21. In other words, only about one-fifth of the Jewish public believed at that time that the Oslo accords would lead to peace. Moreover, as indicated by the broken part of Fig. 9.1, during the years when the revised version of the Oslo Index was used along with the Negotiation Index (from June 2008 to June 2015), the downward trend still went on, and in the last time of measurement it fell to a nadir of 16 point. Thus, from a “peak” of 50 points (out of 100) in June 1999, when about half of the Israeli-Jewish public believed that the Oslo accords would lead to peace, today this belief is shared by a tiny minority of this public. Put differently, the trust in the outcomes of the Oslo agreement has almost completely vanished. 13 For a detailed discussion concerning the background of the attitudes of the Jewish public towards the Oslo agreement during those years see Hermann and Yuchtman-Yaar (2002). 14 See explanation below. 9 The Role of Trust in the Resolution of the … 155 Turning to the Negotiations Index, Fig. 9.1 reveals the existence of a consistent gap between the grades of this index and the Oslo Index, with the former averaging 12 points higher than the latter. This gap jibes with the above argument that the “Oslo accords” became a negative brand for the Jewish public; hence, when it comes to negotiations that are not associated with “Oslo,” the trust given to them becomes significantly larger. At the same time, the figure shows that even when there was no connection with Oslo, in all of the years only a minority believed that the negotiations would lead to peace with the Palestinians. Thus the highest grade on the Negotiations Index was 43.6, while the lowest, obtained in the last year of measurement, stood at 27.8. Notice that these grades are much lower than the grades that were obtained during the years in which negotiations were attached to the Oslo Accord. In other words, with or without the umbrella of Oslo, the overwhelming majority of the public does not believe today in the possibility of reaching a peace agreement with the Palestinians.15. To return to game theory, one can say that the current relations between Israel and the Palestinians are similar to the situation prevailing during the “pre-Oslo” period, with one substantive difference: whereas, at that time, it was mostly the Palestinians who perceived the relations with Israel as a zero-sum game, in recent years the Israeli Jewish public became an equal partner in this perception, if not more than that. As noted above, Fig. 9.1 shows that the decline in both indices halted for a brief period, and they even rose to some extent from 2003 to 2005, after which the downward trends resumed. As indicated by the Peace Index surveys, the brief period of modestly rising expectations has to do with the public’s relative optimism in those years, which was influenced by military events and political developments, including the success of Operation Defensive Shield and the construction of the “separation fence,” which reduced the scale of terror attacks on Israel. From the Israeli public’s standpoint, there were also some positive developments in the political sphere, particularly the Roadmap plan and the U.S. victory in Iraq, which boosted expectations that the Americans would exert heavy pressure, especially on the Palestinians, to accept this plan. Moreover, the appointment of Mahmoud Abbas in March 2003 Prime Minister of the Palestinian Authority was viewed by the Israeli public favorably, because unlike Arafat, Abbas was perceived as a statesman rather than as a terrorist. Indeed, a majority of the Jewish public thought that Israel should assist the new Palestinian leadership by making gestures, such as canceling curfews and removing checkpoints, to ease the lives of the Palestinian population. However, the eruption of the Second Lebanon War and the spate of security incidents that preceded it, particularly the kidnapping of Gilad Shalit, and the ongoing missile fire from the Gaza strip following the implementation of the disengagement Plan, precipitated a sharp decline both in the Negotiations Index (from 39.8 in 2005 to 29.9 in 2006) and in the Oslo Index (from 28.6 to 20.7 in 2006). 15 It seems worthwhile to note that the levels of support for reaching a peace agreement scores were consistently higher, with average scores of 45.8 and 34.4 in order. These gaps are not self-evident and deserve a separate discussion. 156 E. Yuchtman-Yaar and Y. Alkalay From that point on, there were no significant changes in the two indices with the exception of the last 2 years in which the trend of decline resumed, with respective grades of 28 and 16, as noted above. In other words, during the last decade there has been a growing consensus in the Israeli-Jewish public that the Palestinians cannot be trusted and that negotiations aimed at a peace agreement are futile. Before discussing the general significance of this state of affairs, it is worth presenting some findings from both earlier and more recent Peace Index surveys that illustrate the prevailing Israeli perceptions of the Palestinians and the intentions attributed to them over the years since the signing of the Oslo accords. Thus, already at the initial stages of the peace negotiations (July and August 1995), just a small minority (13 %) of the Jewish public agreed that the Palestinians were upholding their side of the agreement, while the majority was divided between those who thought they were upholding it only partially (34 %) or not at all (45 %). Furthermore, 2 years later, in June 1997, the parallel figures stood at 9, 32 and 54 %. As for the efforts of the Palestinian Authority to prevent terror attacks, 57.3 % said in July 1995 that it was not making such an effort at all while 37.6 % claimed the opposite, and in the following two years, the parallel rates stood at 74 and 20 %. Furthermore, 5 years later (August 2002), the Israeli-Jewish public believed almost unanimously (92 %) that the Palestinians had not fulfilled their commitments in the framework of the Oslo agreement or fulfilled them to a small extent. Perhaps of greater significance to the question of trust were the results obtained in the Peace Index surveys more recently (December 2013) to the following three questions: “what is the degree of trust you personally have toward the Palestinians?”; “what is the degree of trust on the Israeli side as a whole toward the Palestinians?”; “what is the degree of trust on the Palestinian side as a whole toward the Israelis?”. Respondents were asked to indicate their answers on a scale of 0 (no trust at all) to 10 (full trust). The results are shown in Figs. 9.2, 9.3 and 9.4. As can be seen from Fig. 9.2, 77 % of the Israeli Jews do not have personal trust at all (51.3 %) or trust them to a little extent (25.7 %). A similar pattern of results was obtained when respondents were asked about their perceptions of the trust that the Israeli public at a whole has in the Palestinians (Fig. 9.3), with corresponding figures of 78.3 %, (36.7 and 41.6 %). Perhaps not surprisingly, nearly identical results were obtained when the question referred to the perceived trust that the Palestinians have in the Israelis (Fig. 9.4), with parallel figures of 79.5 %, (38.7 and 40.8 %). In other words, the dominant mood within the Israeli-Jewish public was that both peoples do not trust each other. In order to shed some light on what lies behind the widespread mistrust of the Israeli-Jewish public in the Palestinians, it seems worthwhile to examine the findings of Peace Index surveys conducted at different points of time between 1996 and 2008, according to which large majorities of the Israeli-Jewish public agreed with the claim that “most of the Palestinians have not accepted the existence of Israel and would destroy it if they could” (see Fig. 9.5). In the same vein, surveys conducted between 1996 and 2013 reveal that similar majorities did not believe that from the Palestinian standpoint, a permanent peace agreement based on the formula 9 The Role of Trust in the Resolution of the … 157 Fig. 9.2 Degree of personal trust toward the Palestinians Fig. 9.3 The degree of trust on the Israeli side as a whole toward the Palestinians at present of “two states to two people” would put an end to the historic conflict between them and Israel” (see Fig. 9.6). Taken together, the findings presented so far suggest that since its beginning after the signing of the Oslo Accords, the peace process has not fostered an atmosphere of trust in the Palestinians and that overtime the mistrust has further grown to the extent that in recent years it encompasses the vast majority of the Israeli-Jewish public. 158 E. Yuchtman-Yaar and Y. Alkalay Fig. 9.4 Perceived degree of trust on the Palestinian side Fig. 9.5 Do you agree or disagree with the claim Does the mistrust in the Palestinians’ long-term intentions have any foundation, or does it stem instead from a mistaken, or even paranoid, perception resulting from the policy of intimidation pursued by the Israeli government and by the Jewish settlers in the West Bank16? Without belittling the importance of such factors, it 16 For the phenomena of collective paranoia among groups in conflict see Kramer (2004). 9 The Role of Trust in the Resolution of the … 159 Fig. 9.6 From the Palestinians’s standpoint appears that the mistrust of the Palestinians’ intentions is not entirely baseless. Thus, a survey by a well-known American institute for public opinion research,17 conducted among the Palestinian population of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip in November 2010, found that 62 % indeed favored renewing the negotiations between Israel and the Palestinian Authority, and a similar rate favored a peace agreement based on the “two states for two peoples” formula. At the same time, however, an identical rate supported the position that the two-state solution is an interim stage toward achieving the “real” goal, namely the establishment of a Palestinian state in all of the land west of the Jordan, whereas only 30 % favored the two-state formula as “the best goal.” Similarly, only 23 % thought that Israel has a right to exist as the homeland of the Jewish people, compared to 66 % who supported the position that “the Palestinians must eventually get back the entire land.” It goes without saying that such attitudes, which are shared in one form or another by most of the Palestinian movements and organizations in the occupied territories and elsewhere, have played their part in deepening the prevailing mistrust in the long-range intentions of the Palestinians amongst the Israeli-Jewish public.18 This climate of collective disillusionment with the Palestinians is probably one of the major reasons for the emphatic strengthening of the political right within the Jewish public during the last two decades, a trend manifested in the right’s dominance of Israel’s polity and society in recent years. As will be seen bellow, this trend reinforced in turn the mistrust in the Palestinians. The magnitude of the Jewish public’s move to the right during those years emerges from the results obtained by the Peace Index surveys to the following question: “From a political-security standpoint how would you define yourself—right, moderate right, center, moderate left, or left?” (See Table 9.1). 17 The Palestinian Survey—Palestinian Thinking at another Critical Juncture: Greenberg, Quinlan, Rosner Research, November 2010. 18 It seems highly probable that over and beyond the perceived threat imposed by the Palestinians, the Jewish pubic is concerned about the strengthening of radical Islam that had been associated with the vicissitudes of the ``Arab Spring.'' 160 E. Yuchtman-Yaar and Y. Alkalay Table 9.1 Changes over time in political identity (right, center, left) Right/moderate right Center Left/moderate left Don’t know Total November 1995 (%) November 2005 (%) June 2015 (%) 27.5 28.5 36.5 7.5 100 39.0 29 24 8 100 55.8 23.6 14.3 6.4 100 As can be seen from Table 9.1, during the past two decades the right has grown by 30 % and, indeed, doubled its strength. Meanwhile the center declined by 5 %, and the left sank to about 15 %. As might be expected, political identity and trust are closely related to each other. Thus, in June 2015, the last year of measurement, a cross-tabulation between these two variables reveals that while 62 % of the Left believed that negotiations with the Palestinians will lead to a peace agreement, the comparable rates for the Center and Right were 34, and 10 %. To grasp the full significance of these disparities, it should be noted that the right and center represent together about 80 % of the adult Jewish population of Israel, so that the influence of the Left on the trust issue is quite negligible. A relevant question that arises from these findings concerns the influence of major socio-demographic characteristics (religiosity ethnicity, education, income, age, and gender) on the political identity of the Israeli-Jewish public in terms of right, center, and left. A detailed discussion of this question is beyond the scope of this article, but it is still worthwhile to note that an analysis based on the Peace Index data, which examined the effects of these characteristics on the political identity, revealed that the most salient one is religiosity. The extent of this influence can be seen from Table 9.2.19 Table 9.2 shows that 87–88 % of the religious and the ultra-Orthodox (haredim) locate themselves on the right, compared to 39 % of the secular.20 Notice that the traditional, 70 % of whom identify with the right, are much closer percentage wise to the religious and the haredim than to the secular. Moreover, given the expected increase in the proportion of the haredim, along with radicalization of the national-religious camp, which is spearheaded by the settlers’ population in the 19 Table 9.2 is adopted from Yuchtman-Yaar and Alkalay (in preparation). For the sake of parsimony we present only the effect of religious identity. However, it is worthwhile to note that in all the socio-demographic groups (education, income, etc.), the identification with the right is higher than with the center and the left combined—with the exception of the secular who are divided more evenly between the right, the center, and the left. Tables are available upon request from the authors. 20 For an analysis of the role of religiosity in the shaping of Israeli state and society see Fischer (2003, 2012); Sivan et al. (2003); Yadgar (2011); Tepe (2013); Hasson (2015); Klar (2014); Mendelsohn (2016); Nissim (2012). 9 The Role of Trust in the Resolution of the … 161 Table 9.2 Political identity by religiosity Ultra–orthodox Religious Traditional Secular Right (%) Center (%) Left (%) Total (%) 88.0 86.7 70.0 39.2 9.2 10.5 21.2 30.7 2.8 2.8 8.8 30.1 100 100 100 100 West Bank,21 it seems quite reasonable to assume that both the hegemony of the political right in Israeli society22 and the consensual mistrust in the Palestinians will continue to prevail at least in the foreseeable future. The implications of this forecast for a revival of the peace process seem obvious. Discussion The socialpsychological research indicates that when in a process of consolidating their collective identity, human societies, including national and ethnic groups, usually create clear boundaries between themselves and other groups, chiefly those that exist in their near vicinity. When the intergroup relations are characterized by competition or mutual enmity, the groups tend to ascribe negative attributes and motives to each other in stereotypical fashion, and to instill negative emotions toward the other group among their members. Processes of this kind, which are especially typical of ethno-national groups that are involved in protracted conflicts with a history of violence and bloodshed, also may have a “rational” basis: the demonization of the adversary usually contributes to unity and solidarity among the group members and to their mobilization against the threat, whether real or imagined, from the other group. Furthermore, as in the case of Israel, the ruling elite use its control of various institutional institutions, such as the security and education systems, in order rally the Israeli-Jewish public around the flag (Halperin et al. 2010; Bar-Tal et al. 2015). The findings presented in this study indicate that in recent decades these processes have fostered the consolidation of a Jewish “bloc” which is unwilling to reach a peace agreement based on mutual compromise with the Palestinians. This block, which represents the majority of the Jewish citizens of Israel, consists mostly of the haredi, religious, and traditional public, on the one hand, and of nearly 40 % According to the figures published by the Israeli Bureau of Statistics in March 2012, the annual growth in the Ultra-Orthodox population in Israel is about 4 %, whereas in the rest of the population it is about 1.5 %. Gal (2014) points out that the estimated annual growth in the Ultra-Orthodox population in Israel (between 4 and 7 %) means that the Ultra-Orthodox population multiplies itself every 10–16 years. 22 For an early discussion of the “Right Era” in the Israeli society, see: Yaar (2003). 21 162 E. Yuchtman-Yaar and Y. Alkalay of seculars who identify with the right, on the other hand. The religious-oriented groups are motivated in part by a messianic belief (Mendelsohn 2014) that the entire “Land of Israel” (at least what is west of the Jordan River) belongs to the Jewish people, while the secular Right is mainly motivated by historical-based ideology and by the pretext of strategic considerations that even if there is some justification for reaching a peace agreement with the Palestinians based on mutual concessions, their intentions to honor the agreement cannot be trusted (Bar-Siman-Tov 2010). In other words, from the viewpoint of the right-wing bloc, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a zero-sum game—a view that is not fundamentally different from the original Palestinian outlook. It might be argued that this conclusion goes too far, given that various recent polls, including those done in the framework of the Peace Index Project, show that a majority within the Israel’s Jewish citizens support the idea of a peace agreement based on the “two-states-for-two-peoples” solution. However, it appears that the meaning of such an agreement for the Jewish public is quite flexible. For example, in the peace index survey of December 2012, the two-states solution was supported by 60%, but at the same time, 71 % agreed with the statement that “under no condition Jewish settlements in Judea and Samaria should be evacuated” and 57 % were against handing over to the Palestinians the Arab neighborhoods in Eastern Jerusalem within the framework of a peace agreement that includes “proper security arrangement.” Similarly, in July 2013, a majority of 62.5 % opposed a peace agreement that includes proper security arrangements for Israel, a demilitarized Palestinian state, international guarantees, and a Palestinian declaration on the end of conflict with Israel, if such an agreement means that Israel has to return to the 1967 borders along with an exchange of territory, 58 % were against evacuation of Jewish settlements, with the exception of the “large blocks,” and 77 % were against a declaration by Israel that it accepts “in Principle” the Palestinians’ right of return, while granting this right only to a small number of Palestinian refugees and providing financial compensation to others. A sharper picture of the Israeli-Jewish view of the solution of the Israeli– Palestinian conflict is revealed more recently in the results obtained in the peace index survey of January 2016, according to which 45 % of the Israeli-Jewish public supported the claim that “Next year will mark the 50th anniversary of the Six Day War and that the time has come for Israel to formally annex all the territories conquered in the war that it still holds.” An identical rate opposed this claim and 10 % didn’t reply. These findings, especially the most recent one, seem to have significant implications to the role of trust in the resolution of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, as well as for the resolution of protracted inter-groups conflicts in general. Specifically, it is reasonable to argue that from the viewpoint of the messianic and secular Right, within which about 61 % are in favor of annexation, widespread mistrust in the Palestinians may facilitate the legitimization of annexation within the Israeli-Jewish public as a whole, and further undermine the chances for a peace agreement based on the principle of “two-states-for-two-peoples” solution. For the radical right, particularly for the Messianic Jews among whom the support of annexation 9 The Role of Trust in the Resolution of the … 163 amounts to 70 %, distrust in the Palestinians is good rather than bad news. In this context, it is worthwhile to notice Mendelsohn’s recent path-dependency analysis (2014, 2016), which suggests that the ideological affinity between the state and the messianic right, a non-state actor, turned the latter from an inconvenient nuisance in the early 1970s into a veto player in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. This collaboration may explain the state’s reluctance, and even inability, to sever ties with the messianic right even as the costs of entanglement became more evident. Furthermore, as a result of this collaboration, the country’s democratic nature and its international standing have been severely damaged.23 Probably the first, and most of consequential outcome of this collaboration between the state (then headed by the Left) and the messianic right in terms of both types of damages was the construction of Jewish settlements in the occupied territories, which has begun shortly after the end of the Six Days War. Regarding the settlements, it should be noted that from the viewpoint of international law “The occupying power shall not deport or transfer parts of its own civilian population into the territory it occupies.”24 This view, which was repeatedly upheld by the United Nations, implies that the expansion of Jewish settlements, particularly since the coming to power of the Right, severely impaired its democratic image and its standing in the international community. Notwithstanding, Israeli democracy has been weakened from within, most notably during the last decade, as exemplified by continuous efforts of members of the state’s executive and legislative branches to undermine the legitimacy of the Supreme Court and erode its independency. Similarly, it is difficult to ignore the damage done to democracy and individual rights stemming from the growing influence of the religious and haredi establishments, with the implicit support of the state authorities, on various spheres of the public and private space (for example, rabbis replacing education officers in the army,25 women excluded from participation in various units and public events in the IDF, and the bolstering Judaism studies in the education system26). Last but not least, Israeli democracy has been persistently stained by the state’s discrimination of its Arab citizens and by the prejudiced attitudes of the Jewish public at large toward them. This reality stir recollections of what Israel’s first president, Chaim Weizmann, wrote on the subject shortly before Israel became an independent state27: 23 See also Pedahzur (2012). According to the Forth Geneva Convention (1949, article 49), “The occupying power shall not deport or transfer parts of its own civilian population into the territory it occupies.`` The United Nations has repeatedly upheld the view that Israel's construction of settlements constitutes a violation of the Fourth Geneva Convention. 25 See, for example, Carmon et al. (2011); Cohen and Susser (2000); Cohen (2013); Levy (2014); Sharvit-Baruch and Haber (2013); Levy (2015). 26 See, for example; Kashti and Skop (2014); Kashti (2015); Pinson (2005, 2013). 27 Weizmann, Chaim (1947). English translation: Trial and Error: The Autobiography of Chaim Weizmann (Book Two), Plunkett Lake Press. Kindle Edition: 2013. 24 164 E. Yuchtman-Yaar and Y. Alkalay “There must not be one law for the Jew and another for the Arabs. We must stand firm by the ancient principle enunciated in our Torah: ‘One law and one manner shall be for you and for the stranger that sojourns with you.’ In saying this, I do not assume that there are tendencies toward inequality or discrimination. It is merely a timely warning which is particularly necessary because we shall have a very large Arab minority. I am certain that the world will judge the Jewish State by what it will do with the Arabs, just as the Jewish people at large will be judged by what we do or fail to do in this State where we have been given such a wonderful opportunity after thousands of years of wandering and suffering.” As to the argument concerning the deterioration of Israel’ standing in the international community, it seems useful to discuss it within the framework “open systems” theory (Yuchtman and Seashore 1967). Accordingly, states represent a type of open systems which depend as such for their survival on the ability to mobilize various kinds of vital resources from the external environment. In the case of Israel, a state surrounded by hostile political environment, the dependency on its ability to mobilize resources such as military and economic assistance, as well as political support, from the international community, especially the United States, is evidently very high, if not total. However, the relations among nations are typically guided by the principle of reciprocity, and it is difficult for a state to obtain resources from the outside world without giving back to it “something” in return. One of the notable phenomena pointing to Israel’s insufficient readiness to follow that principle is the growing popularity in the Western public of the BDS movement, which calls, at different levels of severity, to impose a boycott and sanctions on Israel in general and on the Jewish settlements in the occupied territories particular. So far, Israel has been able to cope with the de-legitimization challenge thanks to the support it continues to receive from the United States in all three spheres—security, political, and economic. This support is ongoing despite the fact that Israel’s policy has created an open rift with the U.S. administration. The question is to what extent this policy can “stretch the rope.” To the extent that Israeli state’s entanglement with the Jewish messianic and radical secular right will go on, the rope might tear. In that case, given that Israel’s dependence on the United States in all three spheres—economic, political, and military—is evidently very high, if not total, Israel’s future will be ultimately determined by the United States and the rest of international community, for better or worse. Concluding Remarks The preceding discussion suggests that both the Israelis and the Palestinians have missed the historic opportunity rendered by the Oslo Accords to reach a peace agreement based on mutual concessions. As we have seen, one of the major sociopsychological barriers to resolving the conflict was the mutual mistrust between the Israelis and Palestinians. The findings regarding the Israeli-Jewish 9 The Role of Trust in the Resolution of the … 165 public indicate that the degree of its trust in the Palestinians, which was mediocre already at the early years following the Oslo Accords, has been further eroded over time so that presently only a small minority of about one-fifth of the Israeli-Jewish public believe in the possibility of reaching a permanent peace agreement with the Palestinians. Moreover, it appears that for a significant part of this public, especially the Messianic and radical secular Right, a pervasive mistrust in the Palestinians is highly functional since it facilitates the support of the larger Jewish public for its ultimate goal of keeping under Israel’s sovereignty the entire territory west of the Jordan River, in accordance with the vision of “Greater Israel.” As to the future status of the Palestinians living in one state under Israeli authority, the Peace Index survey of September 2015 reveals that a clear majority of the Jewish public (60 %) opposes the assertion that “If the territories are annexed and a single state is established under Israeli rule, there will be no choice but to give the Palestinians full and equal civil rights.” Similarly, and more sweepingly, a wide consensus of the Jewish public (87 %) sees small chances that “Sometime in the future Jews and Arabs will be able to live in a single state as citizens with equal rights who recognize each other’s rights.” Whether or when the vision of “Greater Israel” would be realized is of course still unclear. Meanwhile, however, the spirit of the messianic and secular Right is continuously undermining the strength of Israeli democracy internally, and damaging its legitimacy with the international community, externally. Finally, a short comment on the question of responsibility: It is impossible to ignore the evidence that both the Palestinians and Israelis played a negative role in terms of trust building over the years, and that the two sides have not related to each other in good faith and dishonored the principles of the Oslo Accords in words and deeds. However, due to the asymmetry in their military and economic power, it seems difficult to avoid the assessment that Israel’s share of responsibility for the deepening of mistrust between the two peoples and the diminishing hopes for a peace agreement based on the two-states–for-two-peoples’ solution is much greater than that of the Palestinians. Acknowledgment We are thankful to Tom Aival for his technical help and library search. 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Chapter 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 Yohanan Tzoreff This stamp featuring the Dome of the Rock was issued in 1938, during the Great Arab Revolt in Palestine (it was initiated by Palestinian rebels and printed in Cairo). The caption says ‫ ﺍﻟﻌﺪﻝ ﺍﺳﺎﺱ ﺍﻟﺴﻠﻢ‬- justice is the foundation for peace. The (cutting) sword held by a woman is the axis maintaining the balance of the scale (of justice). [‫ ﺳﻠﻢ‬- Silm and ‫ ﺳﻼﻡ‬- Sallam both mean peace]. See also: Psalms, 85:11: “righteousness and peace have kissed each other I am grateful to Prof. Hillel Cohen for calling my attention to this stamp. Y. Tzoreff (&) Ministry of Intelligence and Strategy, Jerusalem, Israel e-mail: tzury4@gmail.com © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_10 169 170 Y. Tzoreff The long period of stagnant relationship between Israelis and Palestinians, which has been stretching on since 2009, is unprecedented in the history of the negotiations, since the signing of the Oslo Accords (1993). Not even a single significant step, which could have served as an indication for mutual willingness or desire to promote resolution of the long-time conflict between the two parties, was taken throughout this period. This stagnation was formed after three failed attempts to renew the negotiations between the leaders of the two nations, and the Israeli unilateral withdrawal from the Gaza Strip, in an attempt to relieve the security burden of maintaining the Israeli settlements within it. Israel evacuated the entire population of these settlements, in a vein hope of disintegrating itself from the Gaza Strip as much as possible. On the eve of 2009 election, the Israeli side came to a conclusion that the Palestinians were incapable/unwilling to sign an agreement. Like Arafat after Kemp-David and Tabba rounds of negotiation in 2000, Abu-Mazen disappeared in 2008. His response to the unprecedented Israeli offer presented by Ehud Olmart, the Israeli Prime Minister at the time, was never received. And the Gaza Strip, which was handed to its residents just a few years earlier “on a silver platter,” continues to lose some very real security threats for Israeli communities and towns around its border and beyond, hurting their residents, reopening the cycle of blood, and forcing Israel to invade it again and again in order to stop those who try to fire rockets, plant explosive devices, send terrorists, and harm its security. Israelis saw it as proof that there is no Palestinian ability or will to reach an agreement with Israel, and concluded that there was no point in continuing the fruitless efforts to negotiate (Davidovich 2015). The Palestinian side, thought the Israelis, was tied up by its old worldview; in spite of the Palestinians’ historical decisions before the Oslo Accords, they were incapable of accepting the Israeli presence in the region and thus their was shaking whenever they reached the point of signing the final status agreement. Hence, on the eve of 2009 election, many citizens—as well as candidates who opposed the negotiation and were favored by the public—believed that Israel should act independently to guarantee its future safety and stop trusting the Palestinians to do it.1 Some Israelis even believed that additional unilateral steps were in order in other regions that contained Israeli settlements, as long as these steps would serve Israel’s security interests. Others, who became the majority after 2006 Lebanon War, argued that no additional unilateral steps should be taken in light of the devastating implications of the withdrawal from Gaza (Ben Meir and Bagno-Moldavsky 2010, 69–70). Ever since then, the Israeli skepticism toward any Palestinian move keeps growing stronger. The faith in the Palestinians’ will and ability to reach a permanent status agreement is gradually fading away. The political process, essential as it may be, becomes less and less attractive, and any attempt to hold any kind of diplomatic talks with the other party is faced with loud protests of key elements within the political system, as well as attempts to prevent and delegitimize these attempts. Third parties attempting to serve as mediators are often criticized for their efforts to promote this type of talks. 1 And before, e.g., Sharon. See Ben Meir and Bagno-Moldavsky (2010, 73). 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 171 As for the Palestinians, they face similar reality, looking over at the Israeli side and concluding that pre-2009 reality has stopped to exist. From the Palestinian perspective, the change created in the Israeli side around 2009 election had significant implications on the relationship between the two parties. The previously close, warm and open partner was gone. The statements made by the politicians elected in 2009 left no doubt in the minds of Palestinians. Those politicians, both before and after the elections, warned against the continuation of the path paved by the previous government, and declared their commitment to the policy of political negotiations with no territorial concessions or reaching out toward the Palestinian side.2 Official documents strongly suggest that the peace process was not a major issue in the platform of the soon-to-be ruling party.3 The fact that Olmart’s government could not reach an agreement was perceived by the Palestinians as a missed opportunity rather than a failure. Time, they argued in what seemed like a hindsight-wisdom after the election, was not on our side. We could not do it due to Olmart’s investigations (Spiegel 2013, 320) and the confrontation between Israel and Hamas (Operation Cast Lead) that broke out at the end of 2008 in the Gaza Strip. Yet, they continuously argued, a lot of progress had been made, and had they had enough time, they would have reached a historical agreement. They never explained their refraining from expressing these notions before the election, which might have relieved the sense of failure and disappointment that were spread among the Israeli public and affected their voting patterns. From the Palestinian point of view, internal developments in the Israeli side are not of their concern, and any Israeli government must negotiate with them in order to reach a final status agreement, which should be closest as possible to the parameters they believe should serve at the foundations of this agreement. After 2009 elections, many Palestinians wondered about the “partner” definition and they frequently asked the Americans and Europeans diplomats whether the new Israeli government will be declared as a non-partner, just like the Palestinians after the failure of Barak-Arafat 2000 round of talks in Kemp-David (See, e.g., Arekat, in Khoury 2015). This government, they argued, had not included even a single article in its new political platform that would allow dialog between the two nations. The statements made by the ruling parties before and after the election were perfectly clear. The Israeli side had no real intention of reaching an agreement, as was evident in both their preelection and postelection declarations. The Palestinians concluded that American and international extensive pressure was the only way to 2 During their preelection campaign, the Likkud’s chairman and its candidates declared that the Palestinians will accept reality only if they realize that Israel is determined to maintain its principles. They never talked about a Palestinian state, but rather about “responsible negotiations while maintaining Israel’s security interests.” The way to promote a diplomatic process is to develop economic relations with states in the region. http://www.nrg.co.il/online/1/ART1/845/820.html. p. 6. 3 The Likkud’s political platform revealed no desire to reach an agreement, and peace was presented as a constraint that must be dealt with if reality requires it. The platform says: “When the time comes for final negotiations for peace, the Likkud will draw some red lines… Ibid., 7. 172 Y. Tzoreff renew the negotiations with the Israelis. Thus, they had to develop a new strategy, where the international community would play a key role in supporting the Palestinian position and constantly pressuring Israel to compromise and give up some of its harsh preconditions for negotiations. In other words, the crisis of trust is a shaping factor in the relationship between the two parties. One party believes that the other is not interested in a peace agreement, while the latter does not believe that the first can withhold its commitments to maintain and implement peace. The rift created by this trust crisis is infiltrating through the leadership level and reaching the public in both sides. Hence, hostility grows and creates deep antagonism, which makes communication very difficult and limited to essential day-to-day issues like security and civil coordination. The current paper focuses on the Palestinians’ expressions of mistrust toward Israel since 2009 election, the many difficulties created within the Palestinian side due to this mistrust, and its implications on the relationship between the two parties. Moreover, the paper presents the question: Is mistrust one of the obstacles, or perhaps the main obstacle, preventing an agreement, and to what extent does it affect future arrangements? The first part of the paper will focus on the historical background: the roots of mistrust in the Arab and Palestinian culture and political history, which shape, in fact, the sense of mistrust felt today. We will explore the meanings of these roots and then focus on the trust crisis created in the Israel–Palestinian relationship in the relevant period. Trusting the Other in Arab Politics and Public Discourse The other, non-Arab, who encounters the internal Arab discourse for the first time, will find out that this discourse is filled with anti-Western, anti-Zionist, and sometimes even anti-Jewish expressions. Monitoring the Palestinian internal discourse will reveal similar results, with picks and lows according to the spirit of time and place. The priorities of this latter discourse are somewhat different. The Palestinian discourse is more anti-Zionist than it is anti-Western, and it includes quite a few anti-Jewish expressions. Arab presidents and leaders usually make no effort to fight it, and sometimes even cooperate with it and contribute some of their own vocabulary. In many cases, this cooperation is nothing but a lip service designed to appease the local public opinion. This phenomenon is rooted in the deep shock that encompassed the Arabic/Islamic world as early as the first encounter between the Mamluk Islamic army, which was considered to be the most powerful army in the world, and Napoleon’s army (1789). Due to the Mamluks’ inability to challenge the means and power of Napoleon’s army, their army quickly collapsed, leaving the Egyptians gapping and helpless. Up until then, the Arabs had the notion that they were in control; they were the inventors and the makers, the bearers of history, its agents 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 173 and not its victims. In one of the articles written after the 9/11 attacks in the US, the Syrian philosopher and thinker Sadiq al-Azm wrote A cultural form of schizophrenia is also attendant on the Arab (and Muslim) world’s tortured, protracted and reluctant adaptation to European modernity. This process has truly made the modern Arabs into the Hamlet of our times, doomed to unrelieved tragedy, forever hesitating, procrastinating, and wavering between the old and the new, between aṣālah and mu’āṣarah (authenticity and contemporaneity), between turāth and tajdīd (heritage and renewal), between huwīyah and hadāthah (identity and modernity), and between religion and secularity, while the conquering Fortinbrases of the world inherit the new century. No wonder, then, to quote Shakespeare’s most famous drama, that “the time is out of joint” for the Arabs and “something is rotten in the state.” No wonder as well if they keep wondering whether they are the authors of their woes or whether “there’s a divinity that shapes [their] ends.” For the Arabs to own their present and hold themselves responsible for their future, they must come to terms with a certain image of themselves buried deep in their collective subconscious”… They continue to perceive themselves as “conquerors, history-makers, pace setters, pioneers, and leaders of world historic proportions (Al-Azm 2004). The Arab/Muslim world has never recovered from this crisis. It has been going through continuous internal struggle between the need to rely on Western modern technology in order to exist, on the one hand, and the demand, on the other hand, to distance themselves from this Western world, to protect the local culture from its impact, to go back to the Islamic heritage and the Prophet’s way, which is still considered to be the best path for healing, despite its failures, the bitterness residues and the lack of trust inspired by it in many different places. This tension between the two different approaches is the foundation for the tense relationship between Arab regimes, elite groups and certain interest groups and the masses—the residents and citizens of the countries they control. The key attribute of this relationship is the lack of trust. It is embedded deep inside the consciousness of each citizen and resident of these countries. Only rarely, and for short periods of time, were certain regimes perceived as serving their people. But they failed miserably when they reached the stage of fulfill their promises.4 The discourse that has been developed as a result of these processes is saturated with emotions, which exposes every aspect of the internal Arab disputes, and develops two colliding sets of arguments. The first set refuses to accept the claim that the blame for its under development and defeat lies with the “Arab nation” itself, and rejects the “obsessive dwelling” on the cultural and historical roots of Arab society and Islam. This approach is voiced loudly, laced with expressions of rage, antagonism, and blaming the existing regimes and their connection with the West, alongside lamenting the bitter fate of this nation. The second approach uses reality as leverage for change, shaking away the ideological and religious frenzy that fed these societies and are responsible for their backwardness. Today, since the outbreak of the Arab Spring (in late 2010), these differences are sharper than ever (Tzoreff 2010, 77). We may say that there are two large bulks in both sides: one is religious and nationalist, alongside other religious groups that are not necessarily 4 See the Arab Barometer, http://www.arabbarometer.org/content/online-data-analysis. 174 Y. Tzoreff religious; they shy away from contacting the other, wary of its cultural influence, and prefer to take only the other’s technological tools to serve their own needs. The other is nationalist and not secular. It wishes to maintain its dialog and contact with the outside world—Western and others. While they are afraid of the Other’s superiority, they believe that this dialog is the foundation for society’s existence and development, and they try to reach compromises with the other as well as with their local rivals, while presenting this connection as a necessary evil. So, the other and the basic mistrust toward it are elements that fuel conflicts within Arab society, according to the first, conservative group, which does nothing to hide its hostility toward it and blames it for everything that is wrong with society. Yet, the second group, which is less conservative and is more aware of the benefits that could come to Arab societies from their connection with the West, suffers from the same syndrome. Its advocates are afraid to be seen as if they lost their Arab or local identity, as groveling in front the other, which is usually defined as arrogant, manipulative, cocky, conniving, and other descriptions which, without any actual proof, sabotage actions and moves that are based on a connection with this other, and that are meant to serve society. After 9/11, harsh internal criticism was voiced concerning this suspicious, conspiratorial approach to the West, and the resulting underdevelopment of the society in which this criticism is voiced. The publicist Abu Ahmad Mustafa wrote in one of his articles in A-Shark al-Awsat around that time as follows: Anyone who follows the present [state] of the Arab [world] cannot fail to witness the frightening backwardness prevailing in all aspects of life in it – social, political, and ideological… Anyone witnessing the Arab present is shocked by the enormous quantity of books and satellite channel discussions that prod society to reflect more and to pay even more attention to the lives of the virtuous ancestors – not in order to learn lessons from them, but to imitate them, in total detachment from the circumstances of our time and place. It is sad that many attempt to place the blame for the gap that separates us scientifically, socially, and politically from the West, or even from East Asia, on colonialism, old and new. [They attempt] to persuade the common people that the reason the [Arab] nation has reached such a low point is that it failed to cling to the principles of religion. Even the natural disasters that have struck us are, to their mind, punishment for not following the [religious] teachings to the letter. Nobody dares argue with these claims, or discuss them. If they do, they are charged with apostasy and heresy, or at the very least with secularism – even though [the accusers] are totally ignorant of what [secularism] means (AbÙ AÎmad 2002). Thus, it seems that the conspiration complex controls Arabs’ consciousness in their encounters with non-Arabs. Many Arabs feel inferior in dealing with non-Arabs; they will always fear of being exploited and will deliberate on how to report back to their own people regarding the results of these encounters. The satellite TV channels that started emerging in the mid-1990s had a major contribution to the enhancement of these notions and the criticism toward the Arab regimes and the West. Their self-defined goal, to promote democratization in the Arab society, served as an excuse to constantly attack the Arab regimes due to their diversion from the principles of Islam, their connections with the West and their responsibility for the reality in their respective states. Very little criticism was 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 175 directed toward the Islamic leaders for their conservativeness and the lack of interpretations that could assist the individual to exist in the modern world around them.5 This rage at the regimes was so blunt that it delegitimized any criticism toward other elements, which were also partly to blame for the social situation. Hisham Sharabi, Professor Emeritus at the University of Georgetown and the former President of the Palestinian Center in Washington, argued in an article he published following the 9/11 attacks that the talk shows and discussion shows in the Arab satellite channels have become very popular—including the audience and inviting them to participate, dealing with sensitive, controversial issues and encouraging the viewers to express their opinions. The fear of immortalizing the Arab regimes, which are actually the United States’ puppets, was the factor that pushed the Arab public back to its Islamic roots and the Islamic movements, violent and nonviolent alike. Back then (2003), Sharabi assessed that only a sudden collapse of the American occupation of Iraq or the collapse of one of the Arab states could change this reality (Sharābī 2003). The Americans started their withdrawal from Iraq in 2008, after an election process and agreement with the local government that regulated the process of power transfer, the withdrawal of the American forces and the roles of those left in Iraq. The first regime to collapse was actually in Tunisia, where the Arab revolution started (2010) before spreading further to Egypt and additional Arab states. Yet, the attitude toward non-Arabs and the West has nott changed following this crisis. On the contrary, the animosity grew stronger, and so did suspicion. The initiators of the crisis wanted to have a homemade revolution, without any external involvement, at least in its initial stages, while its objectors feared and even raged at what they defined at the time as US interference in favor of the rebels or the Muslim Brothers (Egypt). This revolution broke out in an era in which the United States had different agenda of foreign policy—a directive that wanted to assist from afar in entering democracy into the heart of the Arab world, hence their different outlook on the internal development in Egypt and the difference of opinions with Mubarak’s regime. The US believed that Mubarak, as a president, should encourage democratization of his own country, as a way to overcome the crisis he was facing. This new approach defined by President Obama did nothing to improve his image among Arab societies. About five years after the outbreak of this crisis, we may say that Arab society is still fighting over its identity; this struggle is still going on, and the society went into a long and difficult process of internal struggles, their results are yet to be determined. 5 A series of critical reports published by the UNDP in the years 2000–2006, which were written by Arab sociologists, presented a rather gloomy picture of the social reality in Arab states: extreme backwardness, underdevelopment, and education systems unsuitable for modern times. They expressed loud criticism against the religious leadership, which does not allow more modern interpretation of the Islamic law and enforces stagnation. See, for example: http://www.arab-hdr. org/publications/other/ahdr/ahdr2003a.pdf pp. 118–120. 176 Y. Tzoreff This struggle is inherently tied to the concept of internal and external trust. Which begs the question: how can someone, who still exists in a reality of backwardness mixed with and fed by an identity crisis, develop trust toward an other, who enjoys complete superiority in every aspect? Based on this background, we may argue that the identity dilemma is as old as the symbiosis between Arab identity and Islam, which started developing right after Prophet Mohamad’s death. Will these societies stand on their own two feet and acknowledge their responsibility for their own reality? Many important analysts and publicists in the Arab world believe that this acknowledgement is the key to healing this defeatist, suspicious reality. In this context, it is worthy to mention words written by the former Libyan Prime Minister, Abdul Hamid al-Bakkoush in 2003 We ignore the fact that we are located outside of the circle of progress in this era. We put continuous efforts in hiding this defect by bragging about our ability to consume the achievements [of the West], or by attributing these achievements to our ‘spiritual’ civilization, which left us nothing but memories, which we mention in every opportunity, competing between us who can do it more often. We imagine ourselves to be superior over Western civilization; in more modest times, we only say that we refuse to learn from it. While we are willing to consume its achievements, we continue to describe it in the most hateful terms, and are happy when it allows us to hide our own backwardness. Can’t those who are capable of consuming achievements be compared to those who were able to reach them? We are not afraid to argue that we are the ones who taught them, and we never hesitate to present our efforts to save their ‘materialistic’ civilization from loss… aren’t we like those who carry the message of progress, who have lost their cargo but deny it? (alHayat, London, July 31, 2002). Bernard Lewis (1963) argued that the Arab’s attitude toward the West has gone through several phases, starting with the illusion of being superior and independent, going through the disillusion of this notion in light of Europe’s power and wealth, admiration and imitation of the European model, and ending with a hate and jealous rage against the West, which was mainly motivated, according to Lewis, by the deep crisis of the Islamic civilization and the chaos caused by the foreign powers that ruled it. This feeling of hatred mixed with jealousy is mentioned in a segment from Hisham Sharabi’s memoir, which is quoted by Fouad Ajami (1998), a fellow student at the American University of Beirut in the end of the 1940s Our leaders and teachers hated the West but loved it at the same time; the West was the source of everything they desired and the source of their misery and self-contempt. It was thus that they implanted in us an inferiority complex toward the West combined with a deification of it. (Ajami 1998, 61). Put differently, according to Ajami, the West contrasts for the Arabs their conservatism, and inferior position with its own pretty and well-organized reality that empowers the individual. The weight carried by the Arab pulls him away from achieving the frustratingly unachievable goals. 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 177 Trust in Palestinian Worldview and Culture Burdened with these trust issues, full of doubt and skepticism, the Palestinians are situated at the front line, facing the other—the West’s “ultimate representative,” which was brought here, according to Arab historians, politicians, and official representatives, in order to drive a wedge at the heart of the Arab nation. The Balfour Declaration, “given by someone who was not authorized to give it someone who did not deserve it,” was the first actual reflection of the preferential treatment granted to the Jews, the newcomers, over the indigenous residents of the land, who have been living on it and off it for centuries.6 According to the Palestinian historian Rashid Khalidi, the Palestinians understood this declaration as a commitment by the British government to remove any obstacle from standing in the way of the Zionist project (Khalidi 2006, 35– 36). Indeed, the relationship between Palestinians and Israelis went through extreme transformations since the first Zionist Jews arrived to the region. The Zionist movement, which drove waves of immigrants into Israel since the early 1900s, was perceived as an executive branch of the West. The Palestinians perceived its appearance as part of a Jewish-Western plot, designed to throw the Arabs away from the region and give their lands to European Jews. It is still presented as the “the roof of all evil: the cause of the conflict; it is the evil spirit of Israel” (Bahur-Nir 2003; Harkavi 1970, 171). These feelings were accompanied by what the Palestinians interpreted, during the early days of the British Mandate over Palestine, as a preference toward the Jewish community over the Arab residents. The first High Commissioner, Herbert Samuel, who was a Jew, openly favored Jews. The fact that he participated in prayers and his pro-Jewish approach caused rage and uneasiness among Arabs (Cohen 2005, 135–136) Their representatives felt that bringing Jews to the land will erase its Arab nature, and never believed in the ideas of finding refuge for the Jews or solving their problem. Palestinian researchers at the time argued that the Zionist movement was lying to the international community and intentionally hiding its goal of creating an independent state (Harkavi 1968, 162, 1970). With a long series of extreme anti-Semitic expressions, the Palestinians of the time, as well as Arabs in general, dismissed the Zionist movement’s historical claim for their right on the land and saw it as forged, treacherous and deceitful; the Arabs argued that the link between the Jews of their times and the Israelites in the Quran was doubtful, and refused to any territorial compromise with the Jews, even after the establishment of the State of Israel (Harkavi 1968, 185). Yet, the repeated defeats and the continuous friction with Israel started changing the Arab world, and transforming the approach of many Palestinians. The Six Day “Balfour's promise to the Jews.. and the Palestinian people are the victims.`` Al-KarÁmah Bres, (4-11-2015). http://www.karamapress.com/arabic/?Action=ShowNews&ID=151205. See also a call published by Palestinian prisoners and deportees around the 90 anniversary of the Balfour Declaration in the al-Yaum, daily (3-11-2007) under the title ' Balfour's promise: a link in the string of anti-Arab conspiracy, and the donating of Palestine to the Jews.” http://www.alyaum.com/ article/2534323 6 178 Y. Tzoreff War (1967) was the watershed in this context. The war made it clear that the Palestinians could no longer count on Arab assistance, and if they wanted to free their lands, they had to act on their own and not be dependent on the mercy of Arab countries, which usually prioritized their own interests over those of the Palestinians. Along this process, the friction between the Palestinians and Israel as well as between the Palestinians and the Arab states was increased. They suffered blows and had to leave Arab territories they settled in (Jordan, Syria and Lebanon) and gradually their approach toward Israel became more flexible. Through the long and bloody process, we may say that the continuous interaction with Israel gradually reduced the Palestinians’ faith in their ability to free the territories occupied by Israel by force or to drag the Arab armies into a war that may achieve this goal. The Six Day War was one milestone in this direction, despite the fact that the frequency of guerrilla and terrorist attacks by Palestinian organizations were enhanced in the post-war years. Abdul Nasser, the Egyptian president at the time and the PLO’s patron, declared after the war that the Arabs could not resolve the conflict through armed struggle under the existing circumstances. This realisation was made later, during an extraordinary meeting of the Arab League foreign ministers held in Cairo on November 17, 2012, to discuss the Israeli operation “Pillar of Defense.” In it, the prime minister of Qatar, Ḥamad b. Jāsim, after deploring the lack of negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians, stated that “Wolves eat sheep … they (the Israelis) are not wolves, but most of us are sheep.” The solution, said b. Jāsim, is not war, because “I know the degree of our power and determination.” He therefore demanded from all the delegations to act on their commitment to “our Palestinian brothers”7 In Khartoum Summit, which was held shortly after the war, King Hussein was authorized to handle of the future of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, as long as he would avoid any direct negotiations with Israel (Kabaha 2010, 218). This move motivated the then-independent Palestinian organizations, and brought Fatah to take control of the PLO and Yasser Arafat, its leader to be elected as the chairman of the PLO. Gaining their independence from the Arab states was presented as a Palestinian achievement. The repeatedly declared motto was: “PLO is the only legitimate representative of the Palestinian people.” The Palestinians perceived the conclusions of the Khartoum Summit as eliminating any previous commitments to fight Israel; they spread around Israel’s neighboring states and started attacking Israel from their new locations. The Yom Kippur War (1973) signifies a more significant transformation in this crawling spreading of doubts. Pragmatic circles in various Palestinian organizations wanted to explore the post-1973 reality from a more realistic point of view, and treat the Security Council Resolution 242 in a different manner. Up until then, this resolution was rejected outright, because it entailed recognition in Israel’s right to exist (Ibid., 251). Yet, the Palestinian faith in the armed struggle was starting to unravel; the PLO went through some internal 7 http://akhbaar24.argaam.com/article/detail/ See also http://www.lakii.com/vb/a-113/a-791522print/. 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 179 struggles, and there was a growing fear that some elements in the organization were willing to negotiate with Israel, and that lands that would be released through political negotiations may be given to Jordan (Ibid., 253). This continuous process of erosion of the Palestinian position peaked around the outbreak the first Intifada (1987). This Intifada, it will be recalled, started as a spontaneous outbreak in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, without any coordination or direction by the PLO’s leadership, which was deported by Israel from Lebanon to Tunisia in 1982. Thus, the leadership was weakened, and the focus of the struggle against Israel was moved to the Occupied Territories. At the peak of this process, in November 1988 Algeria, the Palestinians declared their independence, thus accepting, de-facto, the two-state solutions and recognizing all of the UN resolution regarding Palestine up until that point. This was a historically significant process, which could only be accomplished due to the major support by the Palestinians in the Occupied Territories, who sent numerous support petitions on the eve of the declaration. This act was followed by initial contacts and later negotiations between Israel and Palestinian representatives, which eventually led to the Oslo Accords, the return of the Palestinian leadership from Tunis to the West Bank and Gaza Strip, and the launch of the long negotiation process concerning the final status agreement, which was supposed to bring an end to the conflict. One of the reasons for the prolonged negotiation is the lack of trust between the two parties, which still presents an obstacle for both sides, despite everything described above. The internal disputes created by this lack of trust in both sides between the supporters and objectors of the agreement force negotiators of both side to treat their counterparts with extra care and suspicion. On the Palestinian side, the negotiations are surrounded by fear from a conspiracy or deceit by the Israeli side. The asymmetric power relations created between Israel and the Palestinians over the years was caused by results of 1948 war, the Palestinians’ numerous failures in their fighting against Israel for a few decades until the Oslo Accords in 1993, and the significant weakness of the Arab world, which became particularly evident since 1967 war and continued to develop until peaking during the Arab Spring at the end of 2010. This asymmetry, which is manifested by a huge gap between the military power and the political leverage and economic power of the two parties, became the key factor, which, according to the Palestinians, dictated their relationship with Israel. And so, the Palestinians arrived at the negotiation table fraught with a deep sense of weakness, constantly concerned that the Israelis may exploit this weakness; they have no leverages that may help them to demonstrate their determination, and they are bothered by the new facts created by Israel on the ground as part of a policy that might prevent a final status agreement or make it more difficult to achieve. They are suspicious and doubtful toward the intentions of the Israeli side. Furthermore, the supporters of the political agreement have to face internal challenges as well, in the form of a violent opposition in a semi-state structure that lacks both the institutions and tradition that would give them tools to handle terrorism and violence of the kind created by the Palestinian opposition. This is one of the key obstacles 180 Y. Tzoreff presented by the Palestinian side in their ongoing interaction with the Israelis. It makes them more hesitant, discouraged, and stalling. A few of factors enhanced the Palestinians’ mistrust in this context, throughout their negotiations with Israel The Tension Between the Lost of Identity and Self-determination The transition from the rhetoric of freeing Palestine by force to the one of political negotiations, which is only supported by half of the Palestinian population, creates tension between the glory of a violent struggle, with its accompanying heroic myths, and the anticlimax of achieving independence through negotiation between two unequal parties. Up until then, many activists in the PLO and other Palestinian organizations believed that independence should be achieved by force when necessary, and not be granted as a favor by a controlling ex-enemy. This situation begs the question concerning its influence over shaping the Palestinian national identity. “If we take this road,” the Palestinians are concerned, “it might go against other ideals that we raised our kids to believe in.” How can the negotiators handle the challenge presented by the Palestinian opposition, who argue that the negotiators have become dependent on Israel and are naively expect Israel to give them something out of the goodness of its heart after relinquishing the threat of and armed struggle?8 After all, this is a solution that is predictated by the stronger party. So how can they trust Israel? Is there any point in continuing the negotiations? The Palestinians’ rejection of Israel’s demand to recognize its definition as a Jewish State should be also considered in the same context, as shown below. The Defeatism Complex Statements of defeatism are voiced by almost any Palestinian representative in their encounters with non-Arabs, and are also a prominent feature of the internal Arab discourse between supporters and objectors of pan-Arabism and pan-Islamism. This tendency may be explained by the Arab and Islamic history as presented above, and the failure of the Arab states and the Palestinian organizations in their struggles against Israel since its establishment. Khaled Mash‘al, Chairman of Hamas’ 8 In an interview (11th June, 2016), Nasser al-Qudwa, a member of the PLO central council, and the chairperson of the Yasser Arafat commemorative, presented a ten-point plan for solving the Palestinian impasse, Among other points, he said: ``The central national goal must be rephrased clearly thus: a wide international recognition of a Palestinian state within the 1967 borders, with East Jerusalem as its capitol, which is based on the natural and historical right of the Palestinians, not on its acceptance by Israel.'' (http://radar2.net/External-154452.html). 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 181 diplomatic branch, often stresses the mistake in approaching the negotiations from such an inferior position, which is bound to be exploited by the other side for the latter’s advantage. Its superior position allows Israel to dismiss the Palestinian threats as empty words during crises in the negotiations. The Culture of Denial According to the memory established by the Palestinians after the 1948 Nakbah, they were defeated due to the chaos in the Arab armies, rather than some fundamental, structural problem in Arab society and culture. The same rational was applied to the repetitions of the Nakbah events in Qibyah (1953), in Samo‘ah (1956), in 1967, 1982,9 and more. By the same token, some would argue that the Palestinian refugees cannot give up their right of return because they still deny their defeat and refuse to acknowledge the irreversible reality (Khouri 1990, 86). Even Arafat, upon his arrival to the Gaza Strip in 1994, made an attempt to deflect his commitments as enforced by the Oslo Accords and hide them from the public. Abu-Mazen opposed him at the time, and demanded that his statements will be rejected. Later, after Arafat’s death, Abu-Mazen argued that he was wrong, and that he fooled the Palestinian public by claiming that the military option could still be retained. Abu-Mazen’s words represented the common sentiment among the generation of the first Intifada and the national camp. If the violent struggle has failed, and we accept Israel as a fact, they thought, it should be done through cooperation and mutual trust rather than doublespeak. Otherwise, they argued, it will be impossible to establish trust relationship with Israel, which is concerned about any potential security threat. The dialog that was developed between these young people and the Israeli society was extremely influential over the developments that led to the Oslo Accords. Disputes and Rifts The internal Palestinian disputes are similar, in many ways, to those in other Arab societies, where both sides hold a significant force—unlike democratic societies, where the state has a monopolistic power that allows it to maintain public order. The dispute within the Palestinian scene was officially recognized following 2006 election campaign, which divided the Palestinian people in half and created two power centers. The election results fixated an internal division with an evident geographic aspect, but it also created a situation where each side had a veto right 9 Palestinian villages in the West Bank, where Israel carried out retaliatory actions (1953, 1956) after terrorist attacks by Palestinian organizations. 182 Y. Tzoreff over the actions of the other. In light of the security threat created in the Gaza Strip, Israel viewed this division as a reason to disconnect the Gaza Strip from the West Bank, in order to address its security requirements. The Egyptian publicist Mamun Fandī who writes about internal Arab disputes, believes that “we will be shamed and disgraced if we come to discuss peace with the other—Israeli or Western—as long as we have not resolved our internal disputes” (Fandī 2008). Fandi’s words raise a legitimate Israeli doubt as to the credibility of one Palestinian party’s commitments to her when the other party does not obey it? Doublespeak and Clichés The traditional rhetoric and propaganda laid by Arab leaders on their societies during the 1960s and 1970s was full of Palestinian themes. The Palestinian problem was their top priority, and their commitment to resolving it was repeated in different variations by every single one of them. Thus, an impression was created that this problem was the core problem of the entire Arab world. According to Fouad Ajami, “in drowning the Palestinian national movement with words, was the culture doing what came most naturally to it: spinning its wheels, turning everything into a forum for oratory, making and remaking the world with phrases but leaving the substance unchanged?” (Ajami 1992, 182). This pattern of behavior accompanied by bombastic statements was also adopted by the Palestinian organizations. Fatah, for example, has continuously boasted the fact that it never gave up on armed struggle, even when its leaders had signed the Oslo Accords. The organization’s spokespeople mentioned repeatedly that this section was still part of the organization’s convention, while Hamas and other parts of the Palestinian public dismissed it as empty words designed to hide the truth from the public. Since Operation Protective Edge (2014), Fatah has been arguing the same about Hamas, as if trying to say that Hamas, too, has been forced to recognize reality and do things in a way they never thought they would have to. In fact, these statements express the accumulated frustrations of both sides from their failure to achieve their goals and objectives. Hamas, as an opposition, continues to torment Fatah by mentioning this issue. They point out Fatah’s dishonesty and weakness, and the significant power granted to the Israeli side by this behavior. The Trust Crisis Since 2009 Today, more than 22 years after the beginning of the negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians, we may say that mistrust continues to affect the relationship between the two parties. Since 2009, the scars of this mistrust have been evident even in the personal relationship between the Israeli Prime Minister, Binyamin Netanyahu, and the Chairman of the PA, Abu-Mazen—both have been in their 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 183 offices since that year. The personal connections between them are practically nonexistent, and their trust in each other’s words is flimsy at best. From the Israeli point of view, the failure of Olmart’s government to reach an agreement by the end of its tenure, at the beginning of 2009, served as proof that the Palestinian side had neither the will nor the power to sign a permanent status agreement with the State of Israel. Thus, there was no longer a rush to continue the negotiations. The difficulties and obstacles mentioned above were sufficient, according to the Israel side, to explain the negotiation’s deadlock. The Israelis continue to examine the Palestinians based on results: Will they accept what they’ll be offered? What will be agreed upon? Will they sing it or not? The Palestinians, on the other hand, claim that the Israeli governments since 2009 were never interested in a real agreement with the Palestinian side, and their sole objective was to protect the settlement project in the West Bank, drag their feet and create a semblance of negotiations, while in fact continuing to create facts on the ground, effectively relinquishing any possibility for negotiation in the foreseeable future. Before the dissolution of Olmart’s government, upon the announcement of the 2009 election results, the Palestinians approached the Americans and Europeans, arguing that the Israelis should be declared non-partners, instead of the Palestinians, who have been described as such by the Israelis since the failure of Barak-Arafat round of talks in Kemp-David in 2000.10 The Americans rejected their request. The approach of Palestinian scholars and academics to the Israeli election and the developments within Israeli society is particularly interesting. The 2009 election campaign started shortly after Operation Cast Lead (December 2008—January 2009), and three years after the Second Lebanon War in 2006. Public opinion, as it was shaped during the election campaign, was clearly acknowledged by the Palestinians as well. They recognized the growing Israeli tendency toward the right, and assessed, before and after the election, that the new government will be relatively conservative in issues of peace and state-society relations, including minorities. The Palestinians followed the election closely, and perceived the results as a new trend, which reflected the transformation of the Israeli society, and were bound to affect the Israeli–Palestinian sphere for a long time. Palestinian scholars and research institutions believed that these election results closed the door for any optional agreement, due to the religious nature of most of the parties in the new government, as well as their political agendas (Banī Jābir 2011, 64–65). They believed that the influence of these results went beyond the Israeli–Palestinian sphere and affected the entire region, which is bothered by the Israeli–Palestinian conflict and is interested in ending it. The nature of the political parties that were part of the new government in 2009 was not conducive, according to the Palestinians, of that stage of the negotiations, where the permanent status agreement was to be discussed and painful territorial compromises would have to be made 10 Shortly after the creation of the new government (on May 13, 2009), Saeb Erekat argued that the Obama administration should judge the new Israeli government by the same parameters ascribed to the Palestinians, and consider it a non-partner. http://www.terrorism-info.org.il/en/articleprint.aspx?id=18287 p. 2. 184 Y. Tzoreff according to their demands.11 The weight of the religious-national sector in Israeli society was growing—this assessment was made by Palestinian researchers who monitor the developments within Israeli society. Their assessment, which was also supported by American studies, was that Israel might lose its secular nature in two decades (Naՙāmī 2009). How much trust can someone have toward the other side with such an assessment of its election results and the political statements made by its government? How can the Palestinians understand the commitments made before the elections and the ones made when the government was formed? Is there any chance of a political process? Can we imagine a scenario in which the process will be continued from the point where it was stopped, like the Palestinians demanded during the election campaign? Netanyahu’s Bar Ilan speech, shortly after forming his government (on June 14, 2009) verified the preelection Palestinian concerns. In their view, the speech was an attempt to create a more comfortable political and international atmosphere, which would pacify the American administration and the international community after a loud election campaign, in which the political right expressed a rather explicit reservations and even a lack of interest in renewing the negotiations with the Palestinians. While Netanyahu’s speech did include consent to establish a Palestinian state, against the belief of many of his political partners, the reservations and conditions attached to this consent made it completely void. The two basic conditions presented by Netanyahu—a public, unconditioned Palestinian recognition in Israel as a Jewish state and demilitarization of the Palestinian state’s territories while providing solid security arrangements for the State of Israel—were rejected outright by the Palestinians.12 The speech included no timeline or reference to the territory, the borders of the future state—avoiding the well-known Palestinian demand, which they insisted on, as a lesson learned from their previous rounds of negotiation with Israel. Indeed, the Palestinian responses to Bar Ilan speech demonstrated the growing rift between the two sides. All of them reflected various levels of mistrust, rejection mixed with rage and frustration. Saeb Arekat, Head of the Palestinian negotiation team, said in an interview to al-Jazira that Netanyahu never mentioned 1967 borders, nor did he talk about the core issues. According to Arekat, Netanyahu actually turned over the political process, which was moving forward like a turtle lying on its back. He would have to wait a thousand years before he finds a Palestinian who will be willing to negotiate with him under these conditions (al-Jazira June 14, 2009). A month later, Arekat declared that making peace is not a PR matter, and that Netanyahu’s only interest is to show the world that he is interested in peace and is rejected by the Palestinian side, while in fact, he should have fulfilled Israel’s commitments according to the agreement, including a construction freeze in the 11 See, for example, Saՙd (2009). https://he.wikisource.org/wiki/%D7%A0%D7%90%D7%95%D7%9D_%D7%91%D7%A8-% D7%90%D7%99%D7%9C%D7%9F_(%D7%91%D7%A0%D7%99%D7%9E%D7%99%D7% 9F_%D7%A0%D7%AA%D7%A0%D7%99%D7%94%D7%95). 12 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 185 West Bank settlements (al-Jazira July 12, 2009). Nabil Abu Rodeina, Abu-Mazen’s spokesperson, said that Netanyahu’s speech squashed every expectation or possible initiative, laying new obstacles instead (Wafa, June 14, 2009). He called on the American administration and the Arab world to handle the challenge presented by this speech (al-Jazira, June 15, 2009). Nabil Amru, a senior Fatah member and a former PA minister, said that the speech was a poor display of a political position that was designed to pacify the American administration (Wafa, June 14). Palestinian and Arab publicists saw this speech as proof that there was no Israeli partner for peace. They attacked the Palestinian “peace camp” and argued that its members had to be disillusioned and adopt other strategies. The demand to recognize Israel’s Jewish nature reinforced the argument that Zionism is a racist movement, and the fear of an ethnic cleansing of Palestinians in the Israeli territory (E.g., Nāṣir 2009). The fact that the US response to Bar Ilan speech was positive, seeing it as an obstacle that was removed on the path of renewing negotiations between the two parties, was another red flag for the objectors to the Palestinian “peace camp.” The gap between the responses of the Palestinian and Arab peace supporters and the ones expressed by the European and American third party, so they argued, revealed the Israeli success in diverting the focus from the Israeli– Palestinian channel to the American/International-Palestinian/Arab one. This was another proof, they said, that the US will always back Israel and it cannot be relied on as an honest broker (Nāṣir 2009). The official Palestinian press also expressed its disappointment from the speech and argued that it had not present anything new, and that Netanyahu offered the Palestinians a ministate, required them to recognize Israel’s Jewish nature, and was actually trying to pacify the American administration, which demanded that he would accept the two-state solution (al-Quds, June 15, 2009). The state offered by Netanyahu, according to the official press, was a virtual state, with no space: “It will be established at the heart of greater Israel” (alAyam, June 15, 2009). Azmi Bshara, a former Knesset Member and currently a senior al-Jazira commentator located in Qatar, is well known for his familiarity with Israeli politics and his anti-Israeli stance. On June 16, 2009, he appeared in a TV program that was dedicated to the Bar-Ilan speech. During this program, Bshara argued that the basic logic of the speech was the Likkud’s original position, which opposes any Palestinian state and actually refers to autonomy. Netanyahu did mention a state, but the conditions he stipulated suggest that he never meant an actual sovereign state. Israel was operating in the salami-slice strategy: its initial demand was to be recognized as a sovereign state, and now it required recognition in its Jewish nature, which actually means a retroactive recognition in the Zionist project and acknowledging our “mistake”.13 In fact, the demand to recognize Israel as the state of the Jewish nation presented a critical trust issue that was unprecedented throughout the 23 years of Israeli– Palestinian negotiations. From the Palestinian point of view, such a demand, raised 13 http://www.aljazeera.net/programs/behindthenews/2009/6/16. 186 Y. Tzoreff by a right-wing government, is tantamount to demanding to change the Palestinians identity and erase their past, proving Israel’s insincerity. This demand was brought up by the Israeli side in previous rounds of the negotiations, including Annapolis 2007 (Hass 2007) but it never evoked the same rage and rejection as Bar-Ilan speech. The demand to freeze construction in the West Bank settlements, which has been repeatedly presented since the establishment of the 2009 government, has never been presented before. The two parties have conducted a long, serious, and honest uninterrupted negotiation for a long time. While it did not end with an agreement, it was characterized by honest interpersonal relationships between the leaders on both sides. A prominent expression of this trust was revealed during Operation Cast Lead (2008–2009), when many Palestinians, supporters of the national fraction and believers in the negotiation path, approached Israel and encouraged it to increase its pressure in the Gaza Strip in order to remove Hamas from power (Kaspit 2009). It seems that the interpersonal mistrust was underlying the Palestinian response to this demand. The Palestinian response suggests that the speakers understand that there is no real intention to establish a Palestinian state, and that the demand to recognize Israel’s Jewish nature, along with the other stipulations presented in Bar-Ilan speech, were meant, in fact, to eliminate any possibility of a future Palestinian state. Hence, Netanyahu directed his speech toward the most sensitive nerve in this conflict: the consciousness of the opposite side. In fact, Netanyahu was saying that the Israelis were no longer satisfied with Abu-Mazen’s declarations, saying that the Palestinians recognize the Israeli state and are not interested in its nature; they acknowledge the Israeli sovereignty, and the nature of the state is none of their business. When Netanyahu presented this demand, the Palestinians felt it was actually a demand to go back in history, check whether the stories they were telling their children about the conflict were actually true, and acknowledge their mistakes. This is not a trivial matter; rather, this is a demand for a cognitive revolution that would create an acute internal conflict among the Palestinian people, due to its direct impact on the issue of identity and its elements. This identity was shaped throughout the years of conflict between the Palestinians and the Zionist movement, the Jewish prestate community and later the sovereign state. Can you imagine—Palestinian intellectuals ask—that Palestinian parents and educators will face their children and tell them that everything they taught them was wrong? How can someone expect such a resonating admittance of their defeat? One of the Palestinians’ greatest grievances—which form their inferiority versus the Israelis—is the lack of sufficient historical documentation, which could have presented the story of the War of Independence (1948), the Palestinian Nakbah and its aftermath. Shaping memory is a difficult mission, which is performed by Palestinians who sense that the memory of previous generations is slowly fading (e.g., Ozacky and Stern 2016, 45–48). They are primarily motivated by the fear of losing their status as the indigenous, local people, who were born and raised here before the Jewish immigrations waves and Zionism. This is an attempt to shape the Palestinian identity and give it a solid foundation, in order to stop rattling the new generation and reduce the number of question marks around them. Indeed, these 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 187 questions are even more disturbing for Palestinian Israeli citizens, whose complex reality as a minority within a state is more intricate, yet it is a key part of the conflicting discourse within the Palestinian sphere. We should also remember that the elements of Palestinian identity, the common traits that unify the local residents and those living in diaspora, were created alongside and as a result of the long-time conflict with the Zionist movement and later the State of Israel. The need to create a unified front, to raise regional support in order to challenge the significant project created by the Zionist movement since 1904 by buying lands, establishing institutions, entities, and factories while excluding the Palestinians as a collective and not as individuals, was pressing. It went on to become a violent conflict for many years in areas where Palestinians lived alongside Jews and from both sides of the border, in light of the activity of leaderships and forces that relied on the Palestinian refugees spread throughout the Arab countries. Eventually, in 1988, they were despaired, and requested to establish a state alongside Israel.14 Thus, Netanyahu’s demand that the Palestinians would recognize the State of Israel which was perceived by the Palestinians as an act that was not directed toward the future, but rather was aiming to educate the Palestinians and shove their mistake in their faces, and maybe even declare that the identity they have adopted is not real, since the Jews are the real indigenous people, which was taken away from their homeland and spent 2000 years in exile.15 Hence, a Palestinian will not be established under these conditions. This issue of demanding recognition in a Jewish Israel and the skepticism it raised concerning the Israeli intentions can explain the Palestinian position in the following years, facing the same government in various compositions and across a few election campaigns. This demand affected the Palestinian response to the construction freeze in the West Bank settlements, which was maintained by the Israeli government for 10 months after the speech (September 2009–July 2010); their acceptance of the invitation to a summit meeting with Netanyahu and Obama in Washington (September 2010); their acceptance of Secretary Kerry’s initiative to 14 As part of the Palestinian Deceleration of Independence on November 15, 1988, they acknowledged the two-state solution according to the UN partition resolution no. 181, and recognized all the following UN and Security Council resolutions. 15 A few months after Netanyahu’s speech, his father, Ben-Zion Netanyahu, was asked whether or not his son intended to establish a Palestinian state, and he answered: “He only supports such stipulations that they [the Arabs] will never accept. This is what I heard from him. They will never accept even one of these stipulations.” Netanyahu Senior took part in the political campaign in 2009 together with his son, and argued that the Holocaust is not over yet, in order to convince the electorate that his son will never evacuate settlements from the West Bank. See: Segal, A. (7-2-2009). Benjamin and Ben-Zion Netanyahu in a joint interview: “The Holocaust has not ended yet. Settlements shall not be evacuated.” http://www.amitsegal.co.il/%d7%9b%d7%9c%d7%9c% d7%99/%d7%91%d7%a0%d7%99%d7%9e%d7%99%d7%9f-%d7%95%d7%91%d7%9f-%d7% a6%d7%99%d7%95%d7%9f-%d7%a0%d7%aa%d7%a0%d7%99%d7%94%d7%95-%d7%91% d7%a8%d7%90%d7%99%d7%95%d7%9f-%d7%9e%d7%a9%d7%95%d7%aa%d7%a3-%d7% 94. 188 Y. Tzoreff renew the negotiations (2013–2014); and their approach to the Israeli governments that were established in 2013 and 2015. The Palestinian responses to each of these developments testify to the seriousness of the credibility problem aroused by this Israeli policy. I Will now expand the discussion of some of these responses. The Temporary Construction Freeze in the West Bank Settlements The temporary construction freeze in the West Bank was described by the Palestinians as a partial step that was designed to pacify the US administration and suggest that Israel is serious about its intentions to enter peace negotiations. The temporary freeze was actually contradicting, so they argued, the first section of the Road Map, which stipulated that construction in the West Bank should be brought to a halt, including construction that resulted from natural population growth of existing settlements—East Jerusalem implicitly being one of them.16 The status of this Road Map, however, was eroded since its initial approval, and the Palestinians are the only ones who still rely on it during disputes, due to the relative advantage granted to them by this document. Hilary Clinton, who was Secretary of State when the temporary freeze was declared, was severely criticized by the Palestinians for her call to enter negotiations without any preconditions and for not demanding a complete freeze from Israel, which seemed like a biased step. Abu-Mazen argued that Clinton’s position was irrational, and that she had not presented anything that would be able to move the process forward (al-Ḥayāt aljadīdah, November 2, 2009). Only a few months earlier, in his Cairo speech, Obama demanded a complete construction freeze in the West Bank. Clinton, in fact, was adopting the Israeli narrative, according to the journalist Ṭalāl ‘Ūkal, who called on Obama to relieve her of her office.17 Others went even further by arguing that Clinton was lying when she said that the Palestinians were preventing an agreement and even argues that she was bribed by Israel.18 So, it is not only Israel who loses credibility, but the US too. 16 See Saeb Arekat: http://www.arabic.xinhuanet.com/Arabic/2009-04/15/content_858524.htm. The Israelis added 14 reservations to this document, which were rejected by the Americans. Yet, the Americans were willing to take them into consideration during the negotiations. One of the reservations was that all the permanent status agreement issues will be excluded from the Road Map, including settlements, except for construction freeze in the West Bank settlements and illegal. 17 al-Ayām, (PA official daily) November 2, 2009. 18 al-Ḥayāt al-Jadīdah, November 2, 2009. 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 189 The Summit Between Netanyahu, Abu-Mazen, and Obama The summit was held in September 2010 in Washington, after Abu-Mazen was persuaded by the Americans, the Egyptians and the Saudis accepted the invitation. The summit was designed to launch a new round of negotiations between the two parties. Abu-Mazen initially rejected the invitation based on the Palestinian sense that the US was not committed to its demands from the Israeli side, nor was it committed to its promises to the Palestinian side. In his Cairo speech, Obama demanded that Israel would freeze its construction in West Bank settlements, and promised Abu-Mazen to adhere to this demand; yet Israel, using its powerful influence in Washington, was able to divert the White House’s position. Abu-Mazen felt betrayed; he felt that by accepting the American invitation, he would be giving up his bargaining chip, and thus decided to reject it (Ben Efrāt 2010). His rejection enraged both the Americans and the Israelis, who argued that he had presented an unrealistic demand and was now struggling to forgo it. Eventually, Abu-Mazen did arrive, after he was reassured by both Obama and Secretary Clinton that an agreement for the establishment a Palestinian state was possible within a year. The summit was indeed the beginning of a new round of negotiations, but this round went on for a mere few weeks, until the end of the 10-months construction freeze guaranteed by Israel, which refused to extend it despite the pressure. Before this abrupt end of the negotiation, the Palestinian Prime Minister at the time, Salam Fayad, and the Israeli Deputy Foreign Minister, Dany Ayalon, had a harsh argument at the Ad-Hoc Liaison Committee that was convened in Washington, after Fayad refused to include the phrase “two states for two peoples” in the closing statement. This round ended earlier than expected and left no sense of missed opportunity, because everyone involved felt the huge rift between the positions of both sides, as well as the crisis of trust, which was extended this time to the American–Palestinian relationship as well. The Palestinians shifted their focus toward developing a new strategy, which was characterized by positioning themselves as the peace seekers instead of Israel in the international public opinion by constantly calling to renew the negotiations, partly in an effort to embarrass the inflexible and uninterested Israeli side, while at the same time applying international pressure and raising the support of every international entity. After the negotiations were stopped, Abu-Mazen clarified that one of the international options was to approach the United States and request a time frame for negotiations. A failure to reach an agreement within this timeframe would result in a Palestinian approach to the United Nations to recognize a Palestinian state according to 1967 borders. At first, the Palestinians states that this move will be taken only as a last resort.19 Later, however, they took a wide range of actions among international entities and institutions, the UN with its various branches as well as others, in order to increase the Palestinian presence and fixate its position as a state in the international consciousness. Abu-Mazen often reminds his critics that 19 al-Nabba, Kuwait, November 4, 2011. 190 Y. Tzoreff the Palestinians never enjoyed such a wide spread international support. He is satisfied with the activities of his Foreign Minister, Riad al-Maliki, who is often criticized by Fatah members, and praises himself for the large number of states that support the Palestinians, the growing Palestinian representations, and their membership in international institutions (Al-Waḥīdī 2014). The logic behind this strategy is the principle of mutuality, or, as Yaser Abd-Rabbo said: “The situation in which one party is committed to the agreements and the other party defies them is unacceptable.”20 The 2013 Election Campaign in Israel The election was characterized by the growing concern in light of the developments in the Arab world. The Arab regimes were going through a major political crisis; al-Sisi’s regime in Egypt was still unstable; Operation Pillar of Defense in the Gaza Strip (November 2012) was the first encounter between Israel and the Muslim Brotherhood’s regime in Egypt, which was very supportive of Hamas. The Palestinians observed these developments with a feeling of déjà-vu. They saw a continuous process in which the political right in Israel was growing stronger, while the option of political negotiations was slipping away, and they had no hope that 2013 election would create a new political reality and enable a breakthrough in the negotiations. Palestinian scholars and publicists who specialize in the Israeli– Palestinian relationship concluded on the eve of this election, following the failure of the short-lived attempt of Washington 2010, that the Palestinians were being offered a Israeli–American dictation rather than an agreed-upon solution, a temporary transition period that would be multi-staged and unlimited to a specific timeframe rather than a permanent status solution. Alternatively, some others described it as a long-term process of establishing a state over parts of the territory and parts of Jerusalem, which will be governed by Israel and will not be able to control its own borders.21 One prominent commentator in this context was Abu-Alaa’, a senior PLO member and the former Prime Minister, who called in a 2012 article to consider the one-state solution, since the option of a two-state solution will not be available for much longer. Abu-Alaa’ argued that Israel’s continuous efforts to Judaize Jerusalem—its excavations around the West Wall and the al-Aqsa mosque—were pushing the PLO to the sidelines and promoting the idea that the two-state solution was no longer a plausible solution among ever-expanding Palestinian circles.22 Hence, the Palestinians seemed to be unaffected by the 20 Al-Ḥayāt al-Jadīdah (PA official), October 24, 2010. Markaz al-Zaitūnah, (2011). Al-Qaḍīyah al-Falasṭīnīyah: taqyīm istrātījī 2010—taqdīr istrātījī 2011. (The Palestinian problem: Strategic assessment 2010—strategic expectation 2011). http:// alzaytouna.net/arabic/data/attachments/ConfZ/2011/Palestine_2010-11_Papers.pdf. p. 44. 22 www.amad.ps (17-3-2012). 21 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 191 election results. The rise of Yair Lapid’s Yesh Atid and Tzipi Livni’s ha-Tnu’a was seen by the Palestinians as a positive development, which had the potential of reopening the negotiations, but they continued to perceive the right block, which maintained its power, as the most powerful element, due to its inflexible and demanding nature. Officially, though, the Palestinians announced their willingness to negotiate with any Israeli government. The Renewed Negotiation—2013–2014 The Renewed negotiation was held in an atmosphere of distrust, which heavily affected the motivation on both sides. The two parties expressed their concerns regarding the actions of each other throughout the negotiations. While the Israelis argued that the Palestinians were continuing to promote the BDS movement, the Palestinians argued that Israel was constantly constructing and declaring new construction, despite the fact that Israel never agreed to avoid construction before entering into the negotiations. Both sides argued that the other side was acting against its pre-negotiations commitments. The round of talks was limited to a 9 month period, as demanded by the Palestinians, who felt that an unlimited negotiation period was damaging to their cause, since Israel was using the time to manage the conflict instead of resolving it. Many accusations of this sort were directed toward Israel by the Palestinians in recent years. Demands presented by senior Israeli politicians regarding security arrangements that would go on for years, and the requirements that the Palestinians would prove their governance and ruling capabilities by creating their state institutions from the bottom up and reach an independent state only when they were “ready” were interpreted by the Palestinians as a lack of a genuine interest in peace by the Israelis and a desire to keep managing the conflict while creating irreversible facts on the ground.23 The talks came to a dead end in April 2014, when the 9 months period was ended and the Palestinians refused to extend it. The fourth phase of prisoner release, which was designated for this period, was delayed due to objections from within the Israeli government. The Palestinians refused to listen to the American requests that they would wait for Secretary Kerry to work out a solution and remove the obstacles within the government to enable prisoner release, and abandoned the negotiations. As a protest, they signed up to join five international institutions, thus breaking their pre-negotiations commitment not to approach these institutions. Martin Indyk, representative of the American Secretary of State, who served as a mediator in the 23 See: Saeb Arekat’s reaction to Ya'alon’s statement as the Minister of Strategic Issues http:// www.nad-.org/a_print.php?id=161. See also: http://www.aljazeera.net/knowledgegate/opinions/2010/11/24/%D8%A5%D8%B3%D8%B1% D8%A7%D8%A6%D9%8A%D9%84-%D8%A5%D8%AF%D8%A7%D8%B1%D8%A9-% D8%A7%D9%84%D8%B5%D8%B1%D8%A7%D8%B9-%D9%84%D8%A7-%D8%AD%D9% 84%D9%87. 192 Y. Tzoreff negotiations, said in an interview to the American website Atlantic (July 3, 2014) that the Palestinian desertion of the negotiation was surprising, since the Israeli concessions, according to him, were enough to bring about an agreement; later he said that Netanyahu and Abu-Mazen despised each other (Friedman 2014). 2015 election in Israel was conducted in March, only a few months after the long violent collision with Hamas in the Gaza Strip (Operation Protective Edge, July– August 2014), which exposed the functional difficulties of the Israeli government with its right wing, confrontational composition. Internal rivalries and disagreements concerning confidential issues during the war as well as the accompanying difficulties in governance and decision-making processes emphasized the need for a change in the system in order to create a better, more stable governmental infrastructure. The relationship with the Palestinians was already loaded at the eve of the election, full of sediments of rage and mutual revenge wishes after the kidnap and murder of the three boys in Gush Etzion by Hamas and the following long clash in the Gaza Strip, the murder of the Palestinian boy Abu-Hdeir in East Jerusalem by Jewish terrorists, the ongoing confrontations between Jewish settlers and Palestinians in various locations in the West Bank, and more. The antagonistic atmosphere during the campaign toward anything Palestinian or Arab, including Netanyahu’s call on Election Day for his Jewish supporters to come to the polls because the Arabs were coming in droves, only added to the tension between the two parties. Thus, the Palestinian observed this process from a more realistic perspective, with no expectations or hopes. They stopped believing in the ability of the Israeli left and center parties to establish a coalition and reach a political agreement, due to the right-wing tendency in Israeli society and the obstacles that would be presented by a right-wing opposition. Thus, despite their great appreciation toward Hertzog and Livni, with whom they were deeply familiar due to their previous encounters, this option was not a source of real hope for the Palestinians. When interviewed by the Israeli press, some Palestinian officials who were close to the PA argued that the Palestinians would be better off with a right-wing government. Despite their awareness of the related risks in terms of their relationship with Israel, they said that an agreement was not a realistic option, and that a right-wing government in Israel would at least guarantee more support for them in the international community and additional achievements in this regard, such as membership in international institutions, recognition of the PA as a nonmember state in the UN by many countries, etc. (Issacharoff 2015). Palestinians who were identified as supporters or involved in the political negotiations interpreted the election results as an Israeli decision to bury the peace process. Saeb Arekat, as well as many other Fatah members, used these exact phrasing, saying they had to reassess their situation (Nāṣir 2009). Indeed, the strongest buzzword in the internal Palestinian discourse since 2015 election has been the “redefinition” of the Israeli–Palestinian relationship. Under this title, the Palestinian Authority is still trying to find a way out of this almost paralyzing reality created by the deterioration of its relationship with Israel. One the one hand, the negotiation path is still the better path in their attempt to achieve a permanent status agreement, despite the crisis of trust, and they prefer it 10 Trust and Negotiations: Israel and the Palestinians, 2009–2015 193 over a violent and destructive struggle, in which Israel obviously has the upper hand. On the other hand, the Palestinians cannot go on like nothing had happened when no realistic option for negotiation is presented to them. A Palestinian Authority that functions as an autonomy rather than a state will be ridiculed over time by its own residents and reduce their leverage in a negotiation. The PA will become a subcontractor of the Israeli government, and gradually lose any public trust. Yet, there is another weighty argument—even if it seems to be in hindsight— saying that the Palestinian Authority was established due to the negotiations. It was not given to the Palestinians on a silver platter, but rather required a prolonged political struggle. Dissolution of the PA or disabling it in some way or the other would actually reward the Israeli right, which is not interested in peace and will perceive any act of this kind as a corroboration of its truth.24 The security coordination, which is perceived by many as treason, is presented by Abu-Mazen as an internal Palestinian need; without it, he argues, the Palestinian territories would be flooded with weapons and the situation would get out of hand. With a few steps taken since 2015 election, Israel has made it clear that it has no interest in the collapse of the Palestinian Authority; the security coordination is an important interest of Israel; Israel is interested in maintaining it and takes many steps in this direction, sometimes against the positions of various coalition members, such as transferring tax money to the PA despite the growing security tension, the frequent terrorist attacks, the heavy accusations of PLO incitement, and so on. The thick stratum of officials that has developed throughout Abu-Mazen’s 10-year tenure is heavily dependent on the money transferred from Israel each month. This factor induces stability and limits the escalation that has been felt on the ground for a while now. In other words, there are some shared interests between the parties alongside some contradicting ones. The desire to reach the coveted goal of agreement and political independence alongside the desire to survive and not lose what was already achieved. The fanatic advocates of the nationalistic passion and the objectors to any compromise would say that independence is the highest interest of all, and that the Palestinians should continue and strive to get it, even at the cost of losing their current achievements. Those who favor compromises and peace, the more pragmatic, experienced ones, will agree that independence is the ultimate goal, but it might be unachievable under current circumstances, due to the deep crisis of trust with the current Israeli leaders; due to the internal rift within Palestinian society; due to the fact that the path of violent struggle has failed; as well as and due to the difficulty experienced in the Palestinian side as well to make such critical decision. “That’s why,” they may say, “we must maintain our achievements so far. Should we really go back and give up everything, like we did so many times in the past? Infuriated by rage and violence, we lit a fire that burned us more than our enemies.” 24 In this context, we may quote KM Elkin, who said that the Palestinian Authority is on the verge of collapse, and that Israel is not to be blamed for it. Such statements are interpreted by the Palestinian side as representing the right’s wishes. 194 Y. Tzoreff In 2000, as you might remember, such a conflict led to violent clash, a continuous intifada that went on for about 4 years and cast a heavy toll of blood on both sides. The reality today is different, with different considerations, and the violent alternative is not as powerful as it used to be. Monitored or even controlled violence alongside trust and honesty that serve as foundations for the security coordination can overcome the mistrust among the political ranks and allow both sides to maintain some of their vital achievements References Abū Aḥmad, M. 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Both factors affect the relations on the interpersonal as well as on intragroup and intergroup levels, determining whether the relations will be liked or disliked, supportive or antagonistic, cooperative or confrontational in nature; whether there will be amity or hostility; whether conflicts will be resolved or will continue, and so on. It is becoming obvious that “…without trust, the everyday social life we take for granted is simply not possible” (Good 1988, 32). Thus, people prefer to live without distrust as it often leads to discomfort, suspicion, threats, and hostility. Trust and distrust are psychological elements that denote a subjective feeling that one has toward another person, leader, leadership, system, institution, organization, or another group. Therefore, it is not surprising that both are well-recognized concepts in all social sciences. Both of them have to be taken into consideration when social systems are analyzed from the micro level to the most macro levels in every domain. Researchers who study this phenomenon have provided a number of definitions and we will note just some of them to get acquainted with the ways researchers D. Bar-Tal (&) School of Education, Tel Aviv University, Tel Aviv 69978, Israel e-mail: daniel@post.tau.ac.il A. Raviv The College for Academic Studies, Or-Yehuda, Israel e-mail: amiram_r@mla.ac.il A. Raviv  P. Shapira School of Psychological Sciences, Tel Aviv University, Tel Aviv, Israel e-mail: shapirapaz@gmail.co D.T. Kahn Baruch Ivcher School of Psychology, Interdisciplinary Center, Herzliya, Israel e-mail: dennis.kahn@post.idc.ac.il © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_11 197 198 D. Bar-Tal et al. view them. Deutsch (1960), as one of the first social psychologists who studied trust, defined it as “considerable confidence in a positive outcome” (p. 124). Sztompka, who devoted much of his sociological career to the study of this construct, defined it as “a bet about the future contingent actions of others” (Sztompka 1999, 25); Lewicki (2006) viewed it as “positive confident expectation regarding another’s conduct” (p. 97). Gambetta (1988) defined trust as occurring in a situation in which “the probability that someone will perform an action that is beneficial or at least not detrimental to us is high enough for us to consider engaging in some form of cooperation with him” (p. 217). Hardin (2004) clarified that “we trust you because we think you take our interests to heart and encapsulate our interests in your own” (p. 5). Barber (1983) proposed that trust is the expectation of the persistence and fulfillment of the natural and the moral order. Most of these researchers went further to differentiate between various types of trust and distrust, but in our view the most interesting and accepted division is between trust that is based on instrumental-calculated considerations and trust that is based on relational–genuine foundations. The former, also called predictive trust, is based on cold calculations of interests of the other party, including intentions and goals which, under certain conditions lead to risk-taking behavior because the party decides that under the particular circumstance it can trust the other party. In this case, with the focus on the outcome, the person takes a risk that the other side will perform certain behaviors according to the expectations. The latter, called often fiduciary, is based on positive interpersonal or intergroup ongoing relations that two parties have, and trust is an outcome of this relationship that is imbued with at least some level of care and liking. This trust that focuses on the other party is based on the positive view of, and affect toward the other, and on believing that the other party has a genuine interest in the well-being of the trusting party. Analyzing the above presented definitions, we conclude that they all have the following characteristics: (a) They all pertain to a belief that a party has toward a human entity—that is, either the entity itself, like another person, a leader or a group (small group, larger group, or a society), or an entity that is activated by humans, like an organization or other social systems. (b) This belief can differ on the dimensions of confidence and centrality. The former refers to the extent to which a party is confident about its trust or distrust regarding the specific other party, and the latter concerns the level of accessibility in a person’s mind and the extent to which it is considered in various decisions that a person makes. (c) The definitions pertain to the expectations that a party has regarding some kind of outcome—either positive or negative. (d) Beliefs about trust or distrust have emotional and behavioral implications—that is, trust and distrust lead to certain attitudes, emotions, and behaviors, as well as to additional beliefs. Trust, thus, leads to positive feelings and approaching behaviors, while distrust leads to negative feelings and avoidance behaviors. (e) The beliefs about trust and distrust can be elicited automatically and spontaneously or can be based on information 11 Lay Psychology of Trust/Distrust and Beyond in the Context … 199 processing, calculations, and other controlled cognitive processes. Automatic trust is often elicited in cases of relational–genuine trust, while the alternative process can be found more often in instrumental and calculated trust which requires more considerations. (f) Trust in most cases is not generalized, but differs across areas and situations. That means that parties differentiate among different areas—and trust the other parties regarding one or several areas—in cases of relational–genuine trust there is more generalization and it is even possible to observe total trust, in which the parties have trust in the other entity in all areas of life. (g) Trust and distrust are learned on the basis of one’s own experiences and/or information provided by other trusted sources. And (h) trust and distrust are usually not stable and may change over time. A party may even move from a position of trust to distrust toward the same entity as well as in the opposite direction. Of special importance is the fact that there are shared beliefs about trust by group or society members, because they live under the same geopolitical conditions and are exposed to similar information and experiences, as well as go through similar institutional socialization. Also, individuals are group members who identify with their group and because of this identification, form shared views of the world (Turner et al. 1987). The fact that group or society members share a belief of trust or distrust toward another group is of significance in intergroup relations and especially in conflict situations. Distrust in the intergroup conflict is a driving force that not only leads to negative attitudes, emotions, intentions, and behaviors, but also prevents peaceful conflict resolution, because without minimal trust it is impossible to carry out acts of peacemaking. This point about distrust in a violent and prolonged conflict brings us to state the goals of this chapter. In principle, we are interested in exploring the functioning of trust and distrust in situations of conflict and especially in the intergroup conflict between Israeli Jews and Palestinians, which is perceived as a prototypical intractable conflict.1 But, we also provide a new view of trust as seen by lay people involved in intractable conflict. Since trust is a subjective belief held by human beings, who differ in their views—because of their particular experiences and learnings—we focus on the views of lay people, Israeli Jews, who were interviewed about their views of trust and distrust and then asked to apply these views to the analysis of Jewish–Palestinian relations. Thus, we first provide the interviewees’ definitions of trust and distrust, and subsequently we analyze the meaning of trust and distrust on this basis. In the next part, we focus on trust and distrust in the context of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict as seen by Israeli Jews. In this part, we first present the views of Israeli Jews and later, based on the findings, we continue 1 Intractable conflicts are violent, fought over goals, viewed as existential, perceived as being of zero-sum nature and unsolvable, preoccupy a central position in the lives of the involved societies, require immense investments of material and psychological resources and last for at least 25 years (Bar-Tal 2007, 2013; Kriesberg 1998). 200 D. Bar-Tal et al. to elaborate on the meaning of trust and distrust in the context of intractable conflict. Finally, we present a few ideas regarding the possibility of changing distrust to trust, in order to advance peacemaking processes. Lay Psychology of Trust and Distrust One of the key questions is how lay people view various phenomena, because they as individuals and also as society members act in correspondence with their views. Thus, the study of the views society members hold helps one to understand not only how they view the phenomenon, but also the epistemic basis of their behavior. This assumption led us to carry out a study among Israeli Jews about their view of trust regarding Palestinians, because it has been a key determinant of their relations. Lack of trust has prevented progress in the peacemaking process, as demonstrated in other chapters in this book. Almost all the studies that were carried out using surveys show that Israeli Jews have a very low level of trust toward Arabs in general, and toward Palestinians in particular (see the chapter by Yaar in this book). In contrast to the prevailing line of research that used surveys as a research method, we decided to penetrate deep into the cognitive repertoire of Israeli Jews by carrying out in-depth interviews, in order to understand not only their view of trust and distrust, but also their wide outlook on their view of distrust regarding relations with Palestinians. The study, conducted between the years 2010–2011, included a heterogeneous sample of participants—17 men and 15 women, ranging in age from 29 to 80, and espousing a variety of political views (53.2 % right wing and 46.85 % left wing). All participants were Jewish–Israeli, secular, and living in the central region of Israel. Participants were interviewed in-depth using a semi-structured interview protocol designed for this study. Questions bore on the definitions of trust and distrust, degree of trust in another group, and especially on trust-building and attitudes of trust toward Arabs, Palestinians, Syrians, Jordanians, and Egyptians.2 Interviews were qualitatively analyzed for content and emerging themes related to the concept of trust. The study therefore accessed an understanding of a broad set of views that participants espouse. Finally, several statistical analyses were conducted in order to draw comparisons between the various Arab groups regarding the degree of trust they are afforded by Israeli Jews, as well as between participants with different political views. First, let us examine how participants defined trust and distrust, and how these definitions differ from those constructed by social scientists. 2 In this chapter we report only partial results and focus merely on the views of trust towards the Palestinians. A detailed description of the study and all the results can be found in Shapira (2013). 11 Lay Psychology of Trust/Distrust and Beyond in the Context … 201 Definitions Trust The majority of participants (75 %) defined trust as counting on someone else to carry out good deeds. For example, one participant’s definition of trust was: “How do I define trust? Someone says something, I believe them, I take them at their word, and it proved itself, it happened on some level or another.” Analysis of the different responses makes it clear that participants talked about different kinds of good behavior that promote trust. Trust in someone else’s good behavior was also defined in terms of their good intentions. One participant said: “…that I trust them, that all-in-all they want what’s best for me.” These findings lend support to the theoretical claim that trust is confidence in the other’s intentions (Yamagishi and Yamagishi 1994), and the expectation that the other is well intentioned (Baier 1986). This view is in line with the argument that trust in another person increases insofar as one believes in this person’s positive intentions and motives toward the self (Lewicki and Wiethoff Lewicki and Wiethoff 2000; Tyler 2003). Moreover, some participants discussed keeping promises and fulfilling expectations as trust-promoting. For example, one participant defined trust as follows: “When someone trusts somebody else to do everything they want… when you ask something of someone, that they’ll do it. That they’ll fulfill the expectations.” And another participant also said: “Trust, how do I define it? Someone promises me something and they keep it.” These ideas are in accordance with the notion that trust includes positive expectations regarding others’ intentions and (Kramer 1999; Lewicki and McAllister 1998). Additionally, under the theme of trust as confidence in good conduct, several participants described trust as the belief that another person will maintain or look after their interests. Yet, about half of the participants defined trust as the possibility of counting on someone else not to behave negatively. For example, one participant said: “Trusting her, for me, means that she won’t do anything to harm me, that I can count on her with my eyes closed.” In other words, the view of trust that emerges is one based on expectations for both action and inaction: what one expects others to do, as well as to refrain from doing. Finally, another definition of trust is the foundation of a positive relationship and understanding (31.25 % of participants). Distrust Most participants (81.25 %) defined distrust as suspiciousness, or thinking that the other person may do harm or lie. One participant spoke about his relationship with a person he does not trust: “I don’t stop being friends with him, but I don’t believe his promises. I can’t count on him.” Another participant claimed that “distrust is when everything can be doubted. Every word needs to be checked to see if it’s true or not. 202 D. Bar-Tal et al. Everything is doubted.” And another participant said: “I don’t trust what he says, there’s a need to verify everything he says, where he’s fibbing, where he’s lying to me, his interests. You can’t take things at face value.” A small proportion of participants (6.25 %) indicated that distrust is the inability to count on another person to behave well. Distrust, therefore, expresses concerns of possible harm by another—an expectation for hurtful behavior and for absence of helpful behavior. Intergroup Relations Based on this analysis of the concepts of trust and distrust, the question arises of whether these concepts can be applied to the understanding of intergroup relations. The vast majority of participants (80 %) indicated that trust or distrust of another group is possible, which suggests that these concepts may be applicable in an intergroup context, as one participant said, for example: “Yes. Groups unfortunately fight each other, are enemies towards each other, so obviously sometimes there is no trust between them.” In contrast, two participants claimed that trust or distrust cannot exist between groups. For example: “Generalizing trust to an entire group? It’s hard for me to believe and I don’t think that’s ever been proven, a situation where an entire group can’t be trusted.” It is interesting to note that 28.13 % of participants considered intergroup trust to be largely instrumental, as described by Hoffman (2002) and Tyler (2003). For instance, one participant said that she “think[s] that between groups it’s first and foremost a matter of common interests that are primarily economic. Then, if the interests are the same interests, you can build relationships of trust…” One participant said that “even the special relationship between Israel and the United States is based on interests… I don’t have so much trust in the United States. I think they have interests.” Another participant spoke about Egyptians: “They are at peace with us for their own needs. I don’t like it. If you’re concerned about your own interests then you can’t be my friend.” Only 6.25 % of participants suggested that intergroup trust can be genuine and include warm relationships, as claimed by Larson (1997). Next, participants were asked what promotes trust in another group. The findings suggest that 40.63 % of participants indicated that positive behavior by members of the other group promotes trust in that group. Others (31.25 %) mentioned that common interests and cooperation lead to greater trust between groups. Some (31.25 %) suggested that for trust to be built between groups, contact between them is necessary. Yet others (31.25 %) identified the central source for intergroup trust in the groups’ leadership. That is the behavior of leaders and then the trust in them determines the intergroup trust. A small proportion of the sample (18.75 %) claimed that similarity between groups brings them closer and promotes greater trust between them. Understanding the other side and being open to them are yet another factor suggested by a minority of participants (15.63 %). A few of the participants (15.63 %) said that a group’s positive image may lead to greater trust in 11 Lay Psychology of Trust/Distrust and Beyond in the Context … 203 that group. Others mentioned trust-building mechanisms (9.38 %) or external conditions (6.25 %) as influencing the degree of intergroup trust. As for generating distrust in another group, most of the participants (68.75 %) identified negative behavior of members of the other group as leading to distrust in that group. About forty percent (40.63 %) claimed that relations of distrust are the result of the groups’ respective leadership. A small proportion (31.25 %) suggested that a group’s negative image generates greater distrust in that group. Some (18.75 %) suggested that distrust stems from differences between groups, and a similar proportion identified education as a primary reason for intergroup distrust, claiming that such distrust is the result of a society that teaches children to espouse negative attitudes toward another group. A few participants (3.13 %) identified external conditions as the cause of intergroup distrust. On the basis of these observed responses and other proposed definitions by social scientists, we propose that trust/distrust refers directly to cognitive and behavioral elements. It basically refers to beliefs that concern lasting expectations about future behaviors of the other that affect one’s own welfare and allow or do not allow readiness to take risk in various (may be particular) lines of behaviors. Focusing on the other group, in the case of trust, the definition refers to the lasting expectations about future behaviors of the other (another group) that affect one’s own welfare (welfare of one’s own group) and allow readiness to take risk in various (may be particular) lines of behaviors. In the case of distrust, the definition refers to the lasting expectations about future behaviors of the other (another group) that affect one’s own welfare (welfare of one’s own group) and does not allow readiness to take risk in various (may be particular) lines of behaviors. The expectations about future behaviors of the other can have different valence—that is, one can have positive or negative expectations about the intentional behavior (or behavior only) of the other that may impact one’s own welfare: expectations about beneficiary behavior or harmful behavior. A lack of positive expectations does not necessarily imply the presence of negative expectations; just as the lack of negative expectations does not automatically imply the presence of positive expectations. Rather, positive and negative expectations constitute two separate dimensions of trust. Thus, in deconstructing this definition, we believe that the essence of the trust/distrust reflects expectations about future behaviors of the other group. The expectations are about what the other group would do in the foreseen future and not about what the other group would like to do. Thus, we differentiate between perceived foreseen behavior of the other group and the perceived behavior that the other group may wish to carry out. Obviously, trusting or distrusting does not appear dichotomously—it is a dimensional characteristic that is reflected in the level of expectations and consequently, in the level of the willingness to take risks. Nevertheless, we recognize that perceived desirable goals also affect the level of expectations that the group has. The expectations are about the intentional behaviors of the other group that have an effect on the welfare (well-being) of the ingroup. This part of the definition indicates that the expectations refer to behaviors that the other group intends to carry out (plans and implements) and that have 204 D. Bar-Tal et al. implications for the well-being of the ingroup. These intentions do not include deep wishes that the other group may have. We are referring to the perceived intentions of carrying out an expected behavior. Also, expectations refer to behaviors that the other group has the capability to carry out. Trust may be reduced if the other group is incapable of carrying out particular behaviors and in the case of distrust, a group may take more risk when it believes that the other side cannot perform negative behaviors that it would like to carry out. We also recognize that expectations may be generalized or relate to a particular set of behaviors in specific domains and circumstances. Thus, for example, we may trust a party in a particular domain and not trust it in other domains. We may also trust a party in particular circumstances, while not in other circumstances. This factor refers to the scope of trust, as opposed to its intensity. The perception of a group as a homogenous entity might moderate the scope with which one generalizes trust or distrust to that group. We further believe that such expectations are lasting, which means that they have some level of stability. Expectations are about consistent and continuous behaviors of the other group, at least for some foreseen future. We do not refer to sporadic and easily changeable expectations. But, on the other hand, we recognize that these expectations are dynamic and that they change as a result of changing evaluations (attribution of characteristics) of the other group and/or changing conditions. It is also widely accepted that it is easier to break trust and move to distrust than to build trust after distrust. The final part is the core of trust and distrust expectations that one has regarding the other. People carry their behaviors on the basis of the expectations they have. Expectations determine the level of risk that the party is ready to take. In the case of distrust, expectations imply that the group cannot take risks in the lines of behaviors that it carries out. In contrast, in the case of trust, expectations imply that the ingroup can take risks in the lines of behaviors that it carries out. Expectations, thus, lead to particular courses of action and determine the level of vulnerability that one is ready to take in relations with the other. In some way, trust amounts to the readiness to take the risk of being vulnerable to the other side’s actions, based on the expectation that the other side will carry out a specific action that carries importance to the trust giver, regardless of his ability to monitor or control the other side. This premise amounts to the kind of expected probability that one has about the type of behaviors that the other may take. This aspect is of importance, as it differentiates the concept of distrust/trust from mere characteristics that one attributes to the other (for example delegitimization). It is intimately related to the range of behaviors that can follow on the basis of expectations. The above analysis implies that trust allows the following: Living with a particular conviction that enables a good feeling about the other; it allows avoidance of particular behaviors—for example armament—as a result of risk-taking; it allows carrying out particular behaviors—reduction of the army—risk-taking; it allows vulnerability and flexibility of actions. Distrust, in turn, forces living with a particular conviction that generates bad feelings and suspicion about the other, living in a continuous state of threat, living under conditions of preparedness for being 11 Lay Psychology of Trust/Distrust and Beyond in the Context … 205 harmed (stress), living in continuous readiness to absorb information about potential harm, which forces one to avoid particular behaviors (e.g., showing weakness, vulnerability)—avoiding creative and original behaviors of good will toward the other, which forces one to carry out particular behaviors (e.g., deterrence, demonstration of strength), and using routinized behaviors. Now we will return to the study and report the views of trust and distrust of Israeli Jews in the context of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. Perceptions of Relations with the Palestinian People The majority of the participants (80 %) mentioned having some degree of distrust in the Palestinian people, and only 20 % indicated having trust in them. This distrust was expressed predominantly toward Hamas: 58 % expressed the belief that the organization aspires to claim the entire land of Israel and to exterminate a considerable part of the Jewish population (Shamir 2007). Here are some illustrative quotes “I don’t believe in them, because the Palestinians ate among us, they drank among us, they slept among us, and they did all those terror attacks here, exploding on buses with children, women, and kids. My God.” “The Palestinian people, if we define them as a people… In light of the number of agreements with them that collapsed, and in my opinion that was mostly their fault, I believe in them less. A lot less”. “Of course, distrust… Due to the fact that to this day they still educate to hate. To the return to Ramla, and Jaffa, and Acco, and all those places.” “I have fear, that doesn’t go well with trust. I have fear, I was there during the time of terror attacks, I’m still scared, scared of being hated, and I know some of them hate me.” An examination of these responses reveals that starting with the first question, some of the participants not only disclosed distrust of Palestinians, but also put forth arguments regarding the reasons—attacks on Jews, violation of agreements, education for hatred, and hate expressed for Jews. Furthermore, a majority of participants (59.38 %) identified the behaviors of the Palestinians as the reason for their distrust in them. A large part of the sample mentioned that Palestinians’ behavior, such as hurting Jews and murdering them has brought about this distrust. Some (25 %) said that their distrust stems from the actions of the Palestinian leadership. A small number of participants (15.63 %) expressed distrust in Palestinians based on negative attitudes that they have toward them (prejudice or a negative stereotype). Two participants suggested the notion that distrust is a result of the conflict itself, and one participant described how personal experiences of harm made her distrust Palestinians. “Some don’t recognize us, and those who don’t, it’s clear what they want. They don’t want us here”. “Because of their leadership, and religious zealots everywhere, here too, the religious radicals, and I think they have a tone of religious fanaticism, the Palestinians”. “There are the Palestinians who live in Gaza, I believe in them less… Because that’s where Hamas is. But in Judea and Samaria there are Palestinians who want to talk with us”. “… 206 D. Bar-Tal et al. Their leader wasn’t there to respond to offers or express his opinion. Once Arafat, and once Abu Mazen”. “We label people into certain categories, and it’s hard to put all that aside after we labeled them”. “Here we have a very difficult situation of hatred and killing between two groups for a very long time. This one says I deserve everything, and this one says I deserve everything”. “How they handle themselves, and act with violence and aggression, like, how they treat people and the police, and how they pollute the environment, that entire view is so far away from me, it’s repulsive to me and of course, it also scares me. Lots of times, I would just be sitting on the beach with a friend, and two–three Arabs would sit behind us and just start harassing us right away”. Nonetheless, there were a number of participants who mentioned having some trust in Palestinians, or at least made some distinction in their regard for the Palestinian people, not willing to see the group as one monolith. Those participants who expressed trust in Palestinians claimed that this view is grounded in a humanistic worldview, and based on Palestinians’ actual behavior. Moreover, a small minority took the adversary’s perspective, and addressed the question from that perspective. Here are some examples for such responses: “In the Palestinians themselves I have no distrust. I have trust, because they just want peace and quiet, just like us, to work, to be able to make a decent living, and live your life quietly.” “Overall, I think both the Palestinians and the PA respect their agreements with us.” “I think it’s hard to judge, that’s it’s basically, in general, it’s hard to judge the actions of a group who’s being oppressed.” The next question we posed involved having the participants put themselves in the Palestinians’ shoes and say whether they think Palestinians trust Jews in Israel. The majority of participants (90 %) said Palestinians do not trust Israeli Jews, and only 10 % said that they do. When asked about the reasons for Palestinians’ distrust toward Israeli Jews, most participants (59.38 %) replied that it stems from Israel’s harmful actions again Palestinians. For instance: “So, I think the simple person on the street doesn’t have much trust, I don’t know. They don’t have it good. The fact is in the end, we are still occupying for 40 years, and not letting it go, there’s no peace, there’s no state, nothing, despite all the promises. We say that the IDF is a wonderful and moral army, I’m sure they see it differently.” “I was in the army, I did reserve duty in the Jordan Valley, we were in some camp, when this huge convoy of people escorting a bride to her wedding passed by, and we tried to stop them to check them. So see, for example, twelve hours, we delayed them.” “Because they know the army, they know us in all those unpleasant situations when they’re being attacked, they’re familiar with our laws that aren’t pleasant for them.” “I’m sure that from their point of view, they’re right, they’re the oppressed and dispossessed, and the State of Israel is a bully looking to cut their wings at every chance they get. I can understand their perspective. No doubt Israel has an ideological camp that puts the Whole Land of Israel as its top priority. And to them, Palestinians should be expelled or remain as a kind of second class citizen in an Apartheid system.” Such responses reveal that many Israeli Jews are capable, if asked, of taking the Palestinian perspective, although they are a bitter enemy, and are able to understand that Palestinians distrust Israeli Jews because they are harmed by Jews. 11 Lay Psychology of Trust/Distrust and Beyond in the Context … 207 There were participants (40.63 %) who claimed that Palestinians distrust Israeli Jews because something about them prevents them from trusting others. For example, one participant claimed: “I’m trying to be empathic, but at this point I find it hard to put myself in their shoes, whether they are trusting or not. I don’t know if they want to trust, if they want to develop trust in us.” Another participant said “They didn’t have a state, and now let’s look at Raad Salah, they’re saying they want even the Western Wall! ….How can you build trust? Religiously, for them it’s very deep. Most of the people are religious.” One participant said that the conflict brings about distrust among Palestinians toward Israeli Jews. A small proportion of participants (12.5 %) claimed that Palestinians do have trust in Jews, and that their personal experience with Israelis promotes that trust. For example, “Palestinians who have worked here, I think, have trust, depends who, if there was a Palestinian employer and an Israeli employer, I suppose the Palestinian would have more trust in the Israeli employer,” “I think they trust us. I think you can understand a lot from the steps Israel has taken.” And another participant said: “The Palestinians today, I think, for the most part, they know that the promises we make we usually do keep.” Trust-Building Between Jews and Palestinians Two important questions examined what might enable building trust among Israeli Jews toward Palestinians and vice versa. Regarding the first question, the majority of participants (59.38 %) said that avoiding or refraining from harm and violence, as well as neutralization of the Hamas administration may contribute to greater trust in the Palestinian people. 40.63 % of participants said that maintaining conditions that promote negotiations will contribute to trust in Palestinians. Two participants mentioned cooperative relationships as important for promoting trust. One participant suggested that contact between the groups can lead to greater trust, and one participant claimed that fostering a more humane view of Israeli Jews among Palestinians can increase their trust. Another participant raised the idea that recognition of wrongdoings committed by Palestinians against Israeli Jews can promote greater trust in them. Only one participant expressed the view that there is no possibility for trust in Palestinians by Israeli Jews. The important lesson learned from all these responses is that trust-building is possible. Here are a variety of examples describing a range of actions that Palestinians can take in order to increase trust in them by Israeli Jews. “Stop committing suicide here, for one. Stop sending Qassam and Grad rockets, for another,” “I believe that Hamas, in order for there to be more trust, will have to at least stop declaring that they want to destroy us. Because, from the get-go, you can’t trust a body, a person, etc., that makes such declarations. That’s a risk you don’t want to take. That’s one thing,” “Stop encouraging terrorism. As soon as that happens, everything will work out.” “I think less violence. Not to keep trying to hurt people.” “First, stop saying they want our entire country and they want to throw us into the sea. As soon as they declare, in 208 D. Bar-Tal et al. writing, in a way that will be recognized all over the world, then we can give them a chance at least. I don’t know about full-fledged trust, but some trust can be built, give them back the Territories and let’s do something to keep things quiet here,” “Try to find some kind of balance between what they want and what we can give them,” “But we must have a final agreement, where they declare that they do not have any additional demands…. As soon as they declare they do not have other claims, other than what’s been agreed… I think things will calm down,” “As far as the PA…. more cooperation. In the end, it’s all about cooperation.” “To show they recognize us and that they take responsibility for the evil things they did,” “What might foster more trust is more meetings with the people on the other side of the fence. Talking. Knowing the other side. Really trying to understand, I don’t even know if I mean understand, but at least create some kind of channel for communication so some information can pass through, “To see us as people too.” “It’s tough, it’s tough. What do they need to do, or what do we need to do? First of all, trust occurs when both sides want it, when both sides offer it. When it occurs and it’s mutual, then it can grow, it can increase. But for us to give trust while they burrow in their views and negative attitude? I don’t think so.” In response to the second question, regarding what Israeli Jews can do in order for Palestinians to trust them more, 40.63 % of participants suggested that the conflict and it’s various aspects and components need to be resolved. About a quarter of the respondents said that refraining from harming Palestinians may contribute to their trust in Israeli Jews. One participant claimed that contact between the two groups can promote Palestinians’ trust in Israeli Jews. For example: “I suppose we need from their perspective, to do all sorts of things like release prisoners, halt construction in the Settlements, dismantle Settlements, give them areas to control. All sorts of steps towards building their state”. “… and that we’ll demonstrate intent to live together, and not continue with the Settlements, but to show true intent that we understand that there is another nation that also deserves a state, and that we recognize their rights as we want our rights be recognized”, “Forming trust in us? We need to try to minimize harm to civilians. We need, as much as possible, to stick to actions that are defensive, and less aggressive”. “We, in order to foster trust, also need to stop hurting them. Both verbally and physically. I think that will help considerably”. “We need to treat them as people, and try, as much as possible, to find a way to work together so that they can achieve basic, minimal living conditions. We’re not doing enough to help”, “… to take small steps towards dialogue and meetings”. 18.75 % of participants said there is no way to build trust among Palestinians toward Israeli Jews—for example: “I don’t think it’s possible, trust can only exist if, say, we give them everything they want …. it’s a little problematic.” And another participant said “What do we need to do? Nothing. The problem is that we’ve taken enough action, and from their side, I think the distrust continues. Because we did one thing, and another, and another. It doesn’t help.” In conclusion, the majority of participants are distrustful of Palestinians. This distrust is perceived as predominantly due to the Palestinians (violence toward human lives, not recognizing the State of Israel, not complying with accords, and an attitude of hate toward Israeli Jews). Other factors causing distrust that emerged 11 Lay Psychology of Trust/Distrust and Beyond in the Context … 209 include the actions of the Palestinian leadership and negative attitudes espoused by Israeli Jews toward them. An attitude of trust toward Palestinians was associated with a humanistic view of Palestinians or as resulting from positive actions by the Palestinian people (compliance with accords). The majority of participants believe that Palestinians do not trust Israeli Jews. Palestinian distrust is perceived as stemming mostly from Israel’s harmful actions toward them (the Occupation and physical harm). This is a surprising finding, as the analysis of themes brings rise to a mirror image. That is to say, a complex pattern emerges, whereby participants blame Palestinians for Israeli Jews’ distrust in them, and blame Israeli Jews for Palestinians’ distrust in them. An additional factor identified by participants at the root of Palestinians’ distrust in Israeli Jews was that something about them precludes the possibility of trust (due to negative attitudes toward Israeli Jews or unrealistic demands of Israel). A variety of conditions that can enable or promote trust in Palestinians was identified, predominantly refraining from hurting Israeli Jews, neutralizing the Hamas administration and fulfilling conditions that can enable negotiations (flexibility in demands, and recognition of the State of Israel). Resolving the conflict in its entirety (focused especially on evacuation of Settlements, but also on keeping promises from the Israeli side) was suggested as the primary condition for promoting greater trust among Palestinians toward Israeli Jews. On the other hand, a number of suggestions were made in order to promote greater trust by Palestinians toward Israeli Jews. Many involved refraining from hurting Palestinians, releasing prisoners, ending the Occupation, and allowing the founding of a Palestinian State, halting development of settlements, and treating Palestinians more humanely. It was only a small minority that suggested that trust-building is impossible due to the Palestinian nature or to the intractability of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, because of its totality. In light of these themes that emerged in the current study, we propose a conceptual framework for understanding trust and distrust in situations of intractable conflict. Distrusting the rival is an integral part of every serious and violent (intractable) intergroup conflict (Bar-Tal 2013; Kelman 2007). It implies negative expectations and lack of positive expectations. In essence, distrust is an essential part of the sociopsychological repertoire of the groups involved in this type of conflict. The distrust experienced in violent conflicts is continuously validated by what is experienced within the framework of the conflict. It is functional in times of conflict, because it positions the group in continuous preparedness and expectation for negative acts by the rival and then motivates the members of the ingroup to participate in action against the rival to defend the ingroup. Also, in times of conflict, on the one hand, it forces one to avoid particular behaviors, such as showing weakness or vulnerability, but also to avoid creative and original behaviors of good will toward the other. On the other hand, it forces one to carry out particular behaviors, such as deterrence and demonstration of strength. In addition, in times of conflict, distrust is often attributed to the stable dispositions of the rival and therefore, no change of these dispositions is expected. It is based on real experiences and on information that is often selective, biased, and distorting. Distrust can be also seen as a motivational force that leads to a 210 D. Bar-Tal et al. self-fulfilling prophecy. For example, confirmation bias causes one to shut out most information that runs counter to the confirming beliefs, while amplifying the information that supports one’s held worldview. Confirmation bias, thus, leads to the overemphasis of the encountered information that stresses the untrustworthiness of the rival group. Distrust as a collective phenomenon, can be based on information and not on personal experiences. On the temporal dimension, trust/distrust can be passed on from generation to generation. Hence, the distrust experienced between two groups is not only contingent on the interactions between two individual group members, but also it might in some cases not even be contingent on the interactions with any of the now living group members on either side. It should also be noted that in some cases, historical defeats, genocide, betrayals, occupations, and so on, may create a tendency for a generalized sense of distrust toward other societies not related to the conflict, and even to a siege mentality. The persecution of Jews throughout the centuries, culminating in the heinous attempt of their extermination in the Holocaust, serves as a foundation for Jewish chronic distrust of other groups. Distrust, together with delegitimization, hatred, and animosity in the context of intractable conflicts, is part of what can be called the syndrome of hostility. Distrust refers to the expectations that the rival will engage in negative behavior. Delegitimization refers to the denial of the rival’s humanity and the psychological permit to hurt them (Bar-Tal and Hammack 2012). Hatred refers to a secondary, extreme, and continuous emotion that is directed at a particular group, and fundamentally and all inclusively denounces the group and its members, assuming that the group carried intentional harm, that its evilness is essential (Halperin 2008). Animosity refers to the nature of the relations that exist between two parties and it indicates that a group has a wish and intentions to harm the rival group. The syndrome of hostility includes cognitive, emotional, and behavioral elements that together form one of the most destructive psychological foundations of intergroup conflict that feed the continuation of violence. Thus, one of the first challenges in every peacemaking process is to break this syndrome. It can begin with either delegitimization or distrust, because they are interrelated. Change of Distrust in Intractable Conflict Distrust in any type of relations—either interpersonal or intergroup—is not God given, but created by human beings and therefore can be changed. Thus, even distrust that plagues intractable conflicts can be changed in a long, gradual, and nonlinear process, as different cases demonstrate. The changing of distrust depends on the intensity of the ongoing conflict and especially the degree of violence. Any change begins with building instrumental trust. This simpler type of a reliance on the other party to “keep its part of the deal,” may in some cases promote trust that is related to viewing the other group as human and legitimate, close to what has previously been called fiduciary trust. 11 Lay Psychology of Trust/Distrust and Beyond in the Context … 211 As long as the sides have little to lose and much to gain, the impetus for trust-building measures is still lacking. When at least one of the parties gets to a point in which it has much to lose and little to gain from the continuation of the conflict, then trust can begin to be built (Deutsch 1960, 124). Hopefully, this will be the case in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict once the Israeli public will feel that it has little to gain from the continuation of the conflict, then, it will be possible to move to a peacemaking process and build trusting relations. Without going into details, we can outline a number of principles for building trust between two rival groups: Trust-building is related to changes in basic societal beliefs of delegitimization of the rival—it requires its legitimization, humanization, and personalization (Bar-Tal and Teichman 2005); it requires elimination of behaviors that harm the other group and introduction of behaviors that benefit the other group; it is a process that requires planning, effort, good will, and policy; it requires reciprocal building; it requires coordination, contact, and communication; it can begin from the top but must go up to the grass roots, but it can also begin from the bottom and then it has to reach the leaders as well; it can begin with the intervention of a third party; it requires establishing criteria and mechanisms for judging the acts of the rivals and the situation; it can develop with the emergence of a new common threat and a new superordinate goal. Many of these principles were noted by the respondents in our study, but we widened their scope by suggesting additional ones. Conclusion Trust and distrust, as different sides of the same coin, are powerful psychological mechanisms that underlie human relations on every level. They are powerful vectors that determine their nature. Parties that experience trust have not only positive expectations about the outcome of mutual interactions, but also can initiate a spectrum of behaviors, taking the risk that that no harm will be done to them. On the other hand, distrust leads to expectations of possible inflicting of harm and therefore, each party must take precautionary steps in order to defend itself. Thus, we suggest that trust and distrust have many different cognitive, emotional, and behavioral implications that follow this view. Trust leads to a sense of security, at least some level of amiability, positive feelings, a positive view of the other party, care for reciprocity, investment in relations, care about their stability and continuation, and some degree of attention to the needs of the other party. Distrust, on the other hand, leads to a sense of insecurity and even fear, hostility, a negative view of the other party, negative feelings, precaution to prevent harm, need to supervise the behavior of the other party, and investment in deterrence and retribution. Distrust is thus a costly stance that requires psychological and tangible resources. In times of intergroup conflict, it is one of the detrimental factors that feed its continuation. As long as there is distrust, rivals will not embark on the road of peacemaking. In other words, building trust is one of the necessary but not sufficient conditions for 212 D. Bar-Tal et al. genuine movement toward the peaceful resolution of a conflict. Trust can begin to be built only if there is also a change in the delegitimization of the rival. Parties can trust only a legitimized, personalized, and humanized rival. Thus, we believe that one of the challenges of rival parties that wish to terminate their conflict is to begin to build trust. The present study showed that in the case of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, Israeli Jews were able to point out conditions that can foster trust. Moreover, they expressed the view that trust requires real steps that have to be taken by both parties: Israeli Jews and the Palestinians. But many of proposed steps can be taken by the leaders only. It is our hope that the leaders of the two nations who have suffered so many years because of the bloody conflict will have the courage to start building trust in order to bring the prolonged conflict to its end. References Baier, A. (1986). Trust and antitrust. Ethics, 96, 231–260. Barber, B. (1983). The logic and limits of trust. 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Trust is important in the inception and development of conflict and therefore also in its resolution. Trust is an inherent factor in all social relations, therefore, it is important to identify any assumptions about these relations that are contingent by trust, especially, if we are to understand the breakdown of trust and its contributions to conflict. Important questions in this regard are who the subject of trust is, and how this presupposed subject determines the meaning, scope and reciprocity of trust. In order to understand this we must contextualize trust and view it from within the particularities of the power structure in which trust is examined. Examining trust in the context Palestinian–Israeli conflict, in which two traumatized groups are engaged in a bloody conflict, wherein distrust has become deeply rooted in both societies’ existential self-perceptions becomes an essential task for the resolution of the conflict. This paper cannot and will not delve into the history of the conflict. Rather, it will explore the deep-seated meanings and perceptions of trust among Palestinian Arabs and Israeli Jews. It argues that the first encounter in settler colonial realities is crucial in the development of the relationship between indigenous populations and settlers. Therefore, Israeli–Palestinian distrust is rooted in the groups’ initial encounter, based on their previously established perceptions of trust and the experiences that follow—violence and counterviolence—which condition and continue today’s atmosphere of distrust. It also argues that the face of the other— cultural and performative—embodied threats and fears that were translated into violent clashes between the two groups. It soon became clear after the groups’ initial encounter that their collective self-perceptions are mutually exclusive and A. Jamal (&) Tel Aviv University, Tel Aviv, Israel e-mail: ajamal1962@gmail.com © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_12 215 216 A. Jamal that their attachment to the place which they view as their respective homeland is incongruous. The subsequent encounters between the two sides, in which each side verified that the other could not accommodate their aspirations, deepened this mistrust and institutionalized the conflict as we know it today (Huneidi 2001; Gorny 1987). This means that only by facilitating a new kind of encounter, based on different self-perceptions, can we lead these groups to change. That said, the paper argues that Palestinians had no reason to distrust Jewish immigrants, given that they were the majority of the population of Palestine, which is integral part of a greater Arab world; and given the small number of Jewish immigrants, who lacked the proper institutions to change the reality on the ground. One could thus argue that the Palestinian view of Jews was based on an open and forthcoming perception of trust. In contrast, Jewish immigrants came to Palestine with a different self-perception and a different perception of the indigenous Palestinians (Gorny 1987). They were less trusting as they were motivated by the culmination of their traumatic experiences, their rising national sentiments and their close ethno-communal and religious orientation. These different perceptions of trust are deeply rooted in the cultural and existential understandings of both sides. Therefore, the development of the conflict and the relations between the two groups were fed by their deep-seated perceptions of trust and the experiences that followed their first encounters. This argument means that trust has functional as well as ethical dimensions that play an important role in protracted conflict. Our understanding of both dimensions of trust is indispensable for any effort to transform the relationship between Jews and Palestinians (Bar-Tal 2013). The paper explores the meanings of the concepts of trust among both groups and demonstrates that these sets of concepts are based on two different perceptions of ontological and existential security that shaped the initial and subsequent encounters between them (Wright 2010). Following the genealogy of trust in this conflictual context demonstrates that it has realist-functionalist as well as ethical dimensions (Saevi and Eikeland 2012; Fukuyama 1995). These perceptions reflected in the literature on trust demonstrate that different perceptions of trust are related to both different self-perceptions and perceptions of others (Keren 2014; Bar-Tal 2013). Therefore one must distinguish between the various meanings of trust in facilitating settlement, conflict resolution, and reconciliation, if one is to draw any conclusions as to its viability in affecting change (Murphy 2010; Dwyer 1999; Bar-Tal 2000). These processes differ greatly with regard to their goals and psychological dynamics and thus cannot be applied interchangeably. Conflict settlement is strategic and seeks formal, political mechanisms for the eradication of open hostility or violence or as some put it, “peaceful coexistence” (Worchel and Coutant 2008). It does not seek to eradicate structural imbalance between conflicted parties, nor does it attempt to address their long-term needs or a sustainable resolution. In contrast, conflict resolution addresses the underlying causes of conflict and seeks to promote reciprocity and equality, especially with regard to the basic needs of both parties (Rouhana, 2011; Kelman 1998). It does not, however, facilitate a truly sustainable and context-sensitive reading of conflictual relationships, which more 12 Trust, Ethics, and Intentionality in Conflict Transformation … 217 often than not are characterized by asymmetric power relations, long-standing human rights violations and complex psychological and existential dimensions (Schaap 2005; Cohen and Insko 2008). Reconciliation, however, is and should be the ultimate goal if we are to pursue a lasting and effective route to the end of the Palestinian–Israeli conflict. The root of such a goal—reconciliation that is lasting and effective—is an effective operationalization of trust, requiring one to take into consideration its roles and various dimensions, how they are conceptualized by both parties, and how such conceptualizations interact with various environmental and political elements; only then can it take hold and facilitate a viable and sustainable outcome. The following pages demonstrate that trust is of the utmost importance to reconciliation, especially in the present context, which is characterized by two groups with not only separate, but also contradictory ideologies, narratives and goals. Previous efforts to promote reconciliation between these parties have failed largely because they did not take into consideration the perspectives of both parties and the unique character of their trust in negotiating the differences between their respective ideologies and narratives (Jamal 2013). The meanings of trust utilized by both parties, which greatly complement those of the other, must be reconciled by introducing bridging values and convictions that help render the conflict more manageable. This does not and should not mean that the conflict over land and resources are not important, but rather that the conflict is even deeper, since the parties of conflict seem to differ on the basic symbolic and psychological understanding of their mutual realities. We begin with an overview of the conceptualizations of trust in the literature. The ways in which these different conceptualizations promote certain psychological processes in their various contexts reveal the importance of defining and characterizing trust before operationalizing it in the context of reconciliation. Next, we delve into the particularistic conceptualizations of trust for Palestinians and Israelis, drawing upon their respective linguistic, historical and strategic elements. Finally, we operationalize and evaluate these conceptualizations in the context of the two parties involved. These case studies connect Israeli and Palestinian conceptualizations of trust to the elements needed for reconciliation—the amelioration of structural imbalance or asymmetry and the promotion of a justiciable reading of the conflict—and thus reveal the inherent flaws in past efforts at conflict resolution and reconciliation in an effort to move forward with a new approach. Conceptualizations of Trust and Its Centrality in Conflict Transformation Trust has been characterized in the literature as a multifaceted concept encompassing a range of interpersonal elements such as benevolence and vulnerability (Balliet and Van Lange 2013), expectation and commitment (Blackstock 2001), 218 A. Jamal identity (Druckman and Olekalns 2013), belief (Govier and Verwoerd 2002), and respect (Murphy 2010). Many scholars agree that trust is about the “willingness to be vulnerable” (Mayer et al. 1995). This means that trust forms a very sensitive sociopsychological arena according to which we are willing to expose ourselves to the free conduct of others, assumes that they behave with good intentions and therefore will not cause us harm (Dickson 2009). This vulnerability requires an inherent risk that relates deeply to the parties’ past experiences and histories of interactions (Molm et al. 2009). Despite this history of interaction, we “go beyond what we know” in future interactions, and rely on others, based on their appearance and our beliefs based on this appearance. The role of trust becomes even more complex in social relations when we speak of relations between groups (Sztompka 1999). In such contexts, the chances of taking risks or the willingness to be vulnerable is conditioned by our own precautions, based on the existing power relations (Möllering 2005; Davidson et al. 2004). This means that trust is a result of a relational interaction. It is “lived, felt, and experienced as positively given, when spontaneously it appears” (Saevi and Eikeland 2012: 93). Trust is a “sovereign expression of life” (Løgstrup 1997, 113), due to the fact that it can transform a situation, by freeing people involved in a given interaction from being bounded. Many scholars of trust view it primarily from its functionalist dimension, as a way to reduce complexity in a situation of risk and uncertainty (Luhmann 1968; Giddens 1990). According to this understanding trust helps in simplifying the number of choices we face and expanding our possibilities of action (Luhmann 1968). Saevi and Eikeland (2012) criticize scholars that reduce trust to its functional role. According to such role “[t]rust seems to be interpreted from its desired outcome, rather than from the ambiguous meaning embedded in the trusting act itself” (Ibid). Notwithstanding the importance of the functionalist approach, one cannot ignore the ethical concept of trust (Myskja 2008). This understanding of trust places it at the center of morality, since it is based on human vulnerability, as a starting point (Uslaner 2002; Løgstrup 1997). This vulnerability is what makes trust an ethical issue. Myskja argues that “[t]rust is on the receiving end of ethical behavior in the sense that trusting someone involves an appeal that they take responsibility for our well-being—but without any guarantee that they actually will…” (2008: 214). Based on this understanding, proximity is central for establishing trust. Such understanding makes bodily presence in the encounter between people crucial for the ethical meaning of trust. Levinas made this point clear when he spoke of the experience of the face of the other as basis for human responsibility, and connects this to human vulnerability (Levinas 1969). He argues that we face difficulties in establishing trust in “disembodied” relations, since we are not presented to each other as truly vulnerable and in need of protection (ibid). Accordingly, trusting each other is a fact of the human condition. It is the norm. Therefore, distrust becomes a phenomenon that needs explanation since it is a result of a failure of the normal condition of human society. It is distrust that should be explained, if we are to 12 Trust, Ethics, and Intentionality in Conflict Transformation … 219 understand society. This makes trust central in understanding conflictual relations, raising questions as to the origins of mistrust. Having pointed out these two understandings of trust and mistrust, it is important to address their place in conflict, especially their relationship with other aspects of conflictual interaction, such its main cultural and material dimensions. Conflict theory has clarified that the cultural and sociopsychological dimensions of conflict are not less but more important than the materials ones. This makes trust a salient issue in conflict analysis. The willingness to assume risk is deeply related to past experiences of groups in conflict, which could be examined through cultural and symbolic codifications embodied in language and discourse of the parties involved in conflict. Experience is an ontological given that conditions our behavior and is interpreted by relating it to relevant features of context. This perception makes the relevance of past experience to our understanding of trust indispensable. When speaking of individuals or groups that experienced traumatic events, such as expulsion, genocide or ethnic cleansing, the persistence of memory of past experiences becomes a strong factor influencing relations with others. In the context of conflict, the various facets of trust become important to distinguish, as they mitigate certain aspects of the conflicted parties’ relationships, such as the impact of their political affiliations, transaction costs, power, and dependence (Druckman and Olekalns 2013; Wu and Laws 2003). Because scholars of conflict recognize the multifarious nature of trust and that it is relationally determined—in other words, it does not exist independent of its context, but as a product of its context—it also becomes important when examining state-society relations and democratic institutions, which require trust at all levels of interaction in an effort to stimulate political participation and voluntary compliance with the law and its institutions (Lenard 2008; Jabareen and Carmon 2010). One of the questions that comes to mind in conflict contexts is whether trust forms a precondition for conflict resolution or if it could be built after a rational agreement is achieved based on the existing power structure between the involved parties. It seems that answering this question requires us to delve deeply not only into the scholarly literature about trust, but also to examine the meaning of trust in particular conflictual contexts in an attempt to deduce the role of trust in conflict situations and its transformation in conflict resolution and reconciliation. Trust as Self-interest Vs. Benevolence The competing dynamics of benevolence and self-interest are replete throughout the literature on negotiation and conflict resolution. Such conceptualizations of trust are centered around the inherent dynamics of trust which are predicated upon expectations of an ‘other’ and the benefit to oneself (self-interest) or ‘the other’ (benevolence) (Yamagishi 2011). Within this conceptual framework, assurance, a form of trust which eradicates elements of the unknown, is instrumental in identifying and mediating other dynamics in the negotiation process, such as prudence, 220 A. Jamal instrumental trust, and calculated trust. Similarly, many scholars who emphasize the benevolent aspects of trust develop similar frameworks of interaction such as hope, “maxim-based trust” and relationship-based trust (Fink and Kessler 2010; James 2002; Lau and Cobb 2010). This framework is among the most complex and layered of the types of trust because it draws upon unique contextual variables in conflict settings. Studies show that benevolence is mitigated by trust, but mostly so far as it provides parties assurance of favorable behavior (Bhattacharya et al. 1998; McKnight et al. 1998; Druckman and Olekalns 2013; Balliet and Van Lange 2013). Similarly, honesty and deception in conflictual relationships are only employed when they are instrumental to achieving one’s goals (Ellingsen et al. 2009). Therefore, while trust as benevolence may on the one hand be conceived as “being nice” and cooperative, such behavior is often predicated by selfish motives and the belief that the other party will assist oneself in attaining the desired goals (Lahno 1995). In the context of protracted interactions, these behaviors are complicated and often enhanced, as the reputation of ‘the other’—based on repeated interaction and generalized expectations, rather than individual actions and the immediate past— can increase benevolence. Studies show that parties even in a conflictual context are more likely to forego short-term advantages and resist deception or counterproductive behavior if the other party possesses a favorable or “trustworthy” reputation; even in the absence of information about past behavior or transgressions (Lahno 1995). It logically follows that the mediating benefits of trust in the unknown become important as they are inextricably linked to the likelihood that one will bestow benevolence upon the other. Trust as Compassion Trust, as it relates to compassion, carries with it a number of findings that serve to illustrate the complexity of trust, especially in the context of conflict. Compassion, as conceived as the opposite of anger and diametrically opposed to competition, was found in an experimental setting to be mitigated by trust, but not distrust (Liu and Wang 2010). On the other hand, anger was shown to be mitigated by distrust, as opposed to trust. Further, conceptualizations of trust with regard to emotions like anger, compassion, or empathy therefore demonstrate that distrust is not merely trust’s absence, but a “distinct psychological process associated with different antecedents and consequences” (Liu and Wang 2010; Nadler and Liviatan 2006). From Liu and Wang’s (2010) study we can therefore infer that the emotional state of negotiators has a direct link to outcomes and this link can only be bolstered by the presence of trust or distrust, not eradicated or reversed. This fact is important in the context of conflict resolution, as it demonstrates that practitioners cannot superficially impose policy to improve trust without first addressing its roots, which is often emotion. These findings further support a relational and multifaceted conceptualization of trust. 12 Trust, Ethics, and Intentionality in Conflict Transformation … 221 Trust as Responsibility The assumption of responsibility by either party to conflict is seen by most scholars as essential to reconciliation (Kelman 2005; Çelebi et al. 2014). In this regard, conceptualizations of trust and expectation in negotiations based on the assumption of responsibility have also helped to illustrate its impact on other contextual elements of conflict. For example, the assumption of responsibility within in-group dynamics has been shown to facilitate reconciliation processes, whereas the assignment of responsibility to the out-group impedes out-group trust (Çelebi et al. 2014). With regard to the assumption of responsibility for violence and the inception of the conflict, this is especially true. Mutual and sustainable trust in protracted, violent conflict is thus essential and can only serve to overcome conflict if both parties reframe the way in which they conceive of the conflict and accept responsibility (Bar-Tal 2013; Çelebi et al. 2014). Tying these findings to the aforementioned findings on emotion and empathy, one’s own acceptance of responsibility is often perceived by ‘the other’ as out-group empathy. Both responsibility and empathy, as well as the misperceptions thereof, are both mitigated by trust (Nadler and Liviatan 2006). In other words, empathy and acceptance of responsibility independently impact parties’ abilities to achieve reconciliation and this achievement is further facilitated by trust; however, trust also positively mitigates parties’ evaluations of the other as empathetic which also furthers efforts toward reconciliation. Interestingly, these findings also showed that the appearance of empathy is a greater determinant of reconciliation than actual acceptance of responsibility, illustrating that accepting responsibility and apologies are not “a magic wand” to erase past wrongdoings—they must be sincere and evince an emotional response by the other (Ibid). Trust as Inclusivity Inclusivity toward the out-group in negotiations has been found to facilitate effective negotiation in conflictual situations, despite high transaction costs (Druckman and Olekalns 2013). Inclusivity in conflict resolution most often equates to the abandonment of dichotomous in-group/out-group frames (Druckman and Olekalns 2013; Dovidio et al. 2007; Gaertner and Dovidio 2000; Çelebi et al. 2014). In protracted conflict, it may also include social and psychological processes akin to assimilation, even when acceptance of ‘the other’ is one-sided (Çelebi et al. 2014). In viewing ‘the other’ through this latter frame, studies show the impact of inclusivity on negotiations was so strong that it effectively eliminates the impact of contextual or environmental variables, even following a crisis (Druckman and Olekalns 2013). In other words, the assumption of ‘the other’ as ‘one of us’ changes the entire character of the negotiation process and enables parties to view issues 222 A. Jamal from a new perspective that is “immune to cris[is]” (Druckman and Olekalns 2013, 980). This means that the embedded understanding of groupness in conflict situations becomes very important in deconstructing conflictual relations and facilitating reconciliation. Within in-group relations, where a dominant out-group exercises control of the subordinate in-group (i.e., Gazans or West Bank Palestinians vis-à-vis Israelis), there are also benefits to fostering inclusivity between and beyond one’s immediate ethnic or religious group that can be generalized to the broader conflict. Jabareen and Carmon’s (2010) concept of “Communities of Trust,” which relies on fundamentals of community planning, outlines five characteristics necessary for coexistence in violent or threatening conflictual contexts. Shared beliefs, whether religious, traditional or a common “community ethos” are essential to building stability within in-group relations. One might also infer that the same would be true for parties in conflict trying to affect the common in-group identity model. Along these lines, communities of trust also include shared perceptions of risk (or the assumption of a common enemy), shared interests, shared daily life practices (both informal social interaction and formal practices, such as governmental or procedural interaction) and shared space (Jabareen and Carmon 2010). It is important in this regard to note that the importance of trust in conflict resolution is apparent at all levels of conflict, not merely at the top where formal agreements are made. Trust as inclusivity necessitates a transformation at the community level which both preserves individual and pluralistic traditions and forms the foundation of a shared identity. Palestinian and Israeli Conceptualizations of Trust In the following pages, we delve into the etymology of trust in Arabic and Hebrew, demonstrating that the different perceptions of trust can explain, at least partially, the sources and dynamics of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. Examining the etymology of trust is an important venture, since we are talking about two very similar Semitic languages that have experienced a long period of proximity throughout history and have also been rendered the “language of the enemy” since the beginning of the conflict. This analysis demonstrates that Jews and Palestinians have come to interact, not only having different experiences with strangers, but also diverse perceptions of trust that conditioned the nature of their interaction from the start and molded their relations for the future to come. Trust as Embedded in Arabic, Arab History, and Culture Trust has been examined from various perspectives and in different contexts in Arab societies (Jamal, 2007b; Bohnet et al. 2010a, b). Two major fields addressed 12 Trust, Ethics, and Intentionality in Conflict Transformation … 223 are political democratization and business interactions (Ibid). These studies differentiate between cultural and performance-based perceptions of trust established in the literature (Jamal 2007b) and provide valuable findings on the dynamics and centrality of trust in the political and economic life. Notwithstanding the importance of these studies, they do not address the varied conceptualizations of trust in Arab culture and society. As argued earlier, there is a need to delve into these meanings in Arab–Palestinian society in order to reveal its impact on the encounter with Jewish immigrants in Palestine. The meaning of trust in Arabic may be drawn from two different sources (see also the extensive discussion in the chapter of Alon in the present volume). The first is thiqah and the second is E’a’timan. Thiqah is the common meaning or “immediate” meaning of trust in Arabic. The root of thiqah is “wathaqa,” which means “tying things together.” This means that to trust someone means to be “tied to her or him,” in a way that assures compliance with the common cultural codes in the social context (Gregg 2005; Zayour 1987). This meaning of trust refers to a bond, as an inherent dimension of the relationship between the parties that trust each other. In this regard, the bond between the parties cannot be untied or dissolved easily. It is based on “a tying act,” which may be achieved initially by free will, but later becomes obliging and the parties are not free or cannot easily untie it. This meaning of trust does not entail separation, since the ties lead to the merging—at least of certain dimensions—of the sides involved. Such a merging is about crafting a new reality in which either side may not necessarily feel comfortable, but have no choice but to interact, based on an ethical grounding. This meaning draws us back to the above discussion about self-interest and benevolence on the one hand and ethical responsibility on the other. Trust as thiqah entails all these dimensions, but assumes the good intentions of others as a starting point of the relationship. It is true that the tie between the parties could be motivated by self-interest, but it could simultaneously or consecutively develop new ethical dimensions that are deeply related to benevolence and responsibility. The root wathaqa is deeply affiliated with the concept of wathiqah, which means document or contract. The affinity between trust and contract is deeply rooted in Arab culture, entailing the mutuality of the relationship, which gives people full security, as reflected by Athar ben Dorah Al-Taa’i who states that “[a] tie that cannot be untied without permission, since we do not demand from other peoples to sign an agreement” (Ibn Manzur 1883). The ties entailed in wathiqah could not but be constructive to all parties involved, despite the fact that the tie may sound a forced one. This lack of flexibility reflects the reality of tribal Arab societies in which members are mutually committed to each other, according to norms and customs established along the years (Bohnet et al. 2010a). This type of unwritten contract is still dominant in the Arab familial structures, preserving a deep component of traditional tribal society even in urban areas and modern social structures (Sharabi 1988). The contractual dimension of society means that different people share the same space, despite differences between them. This means that difference makes the contract necessary in order to facilitate the mutual commitments and regulate the 224 A. Jamal interactions between members of the community, based on the accepted norms and customs (Bohnet et al. 2010b). In other words, they must find a way to get along and open new channels of communication that can change the mere ontological reality into a shared, ethical one. For such a process to occur the Wathiqah— contract—must be established and actively transformed into one that is both inclusive and compassionate (Ibn Manzur 1883). This means that members of the community or those willing to join the contract are trusted and given the trustworthiness necessary in order to be part of the community. The second meaning of trust is Arabic is E’a’timan, which is rooted in A’mn (security or the opposite of fear). The meaning of this concept broadens the scope of Arab perceptions of trust, since it also entails several layers on which we elaborated in order to understand the ethical and functionalist dimensions of trust. The first dimension is the concept Amn, or security, in the ontological sense. This means that trust entails feelings of security and entrusting someone with your own security. It assumes the presence of insecurity on the one hand and of an Other that is a possible threat, on the other. These assumptions lead us to the conclusion that if I am to entrust someone with my security, I must be fully confident that the entrusted party will not cause me harm and will be loyal to my initial intentions, which brought me to trust them in the first place. This meaning entails the responsibility of an ethical Other or the presence of guarantees in the form of norms, customs, or habits granting the entrusting person the peace needed in social interactions (Barakat, 1993). In this context, A’man—being secure—becomes an individual or collective reality that lacks the anxiety, embedded in the state of nature, described by Thomas Hobbes or the state of uncivility known in modern social reality (Hobbes 2010; Burnell and Calvert 2004). This meaning of trust addresses the eagerness or basic need for security, stability and tranquility, as reflected in the related concept A’amenah, meaning being secure. This meaning assumes the existence of mechanisms of dealing with danger, a topic that has been central in the philosophical and psychological literature on trust (Myskja 2008). It is also a social phenomenon that involves two or more people, who live in proximity and carry the potential to engage with one another either proactively or regressively, with danger. Having covered the multidimensionality of trust in Arabic language and culture, and showing that it is deeply tied to civility, we may view trust as one of the most important dimensions of political life. Aristotle’s Politics paid great attention to the importance of trust in establishing civil life and in the development and protection of the common good. Trust as E’a’timan places one’s security—even life—in the hands of an Other, assuming a common life to be shared, which must be mutually protected through the active participation in the maintenance of security of the collective (Arendt 1998). Thomas Hobbes was among the first political philosophers to emphasize the relationship between entrusting a political authority with our security and freedom (Hobbes 2010). According to Hobbes, the act of trust is intrinsic in fear, which forms one of the main motivations in human behavior. The psychology of fear leads human beings to give up on one of the most precious characteristics of human life, namely freedom. In other words, entrusting somebody with our security mirrors the 12 Trust, Ethics, and Intentionality in Conflict Transformation … 225 discussion of self-interest and benevolence above. It is the self-interest of security that leads to the compassionate relationship between the parties involved in this relationship. But one cannot ignore the centrality of the power relations entailed in such a relationship. It is guaranteeing security that motivates people’s behavior in uncertain circumstances. This is true in encountering people we do not know and have no common experience with and attempting to recognize their intentions. Security in such situations is not only physical and individual. Our mere being is questioned, something that makes the existential meaning of trust present. Trust as E’a’timan entails another dimension related to A’manah, which has two interrelated meanings (Ibn Manzur 1883). The first is trusteeship, honesty, decency, truthfulness, and faithfulness. Being honest, truthful, and faithful is an important dimension of the ethical and functional meaning of trust. This meaning sets a clear precondition on the types of relationship one can develop with an Other. The mere construction of good and friendly relations assumes honesty to be a central building block that relaxes the relations and make them smooth and reliable. In relations of trust based on honesty, each of the sides can not only rely on the other, but also be sure that no matter what happens the other will represent the relations in a positive and friendly way. In other words, good faith and ethical intentions are part and parcel of the definition of trust, as reflected in the meaning of trust as honesty. This meaning is reflected in the adjective A’min, which describes a person who is descent, just, and loyal. This meaning is part and parcel of the peace for which we aspire, where members of the community have ethical commitment to be decent to one another, so interactions between them are based on mutual reliance. The importance of this meaning is most apparent in commercial interactions, when people are expected not to cheat in their treatment of strangers. The second interrelated meaning of A’manah is related to the noun in the Arabic language, which deals with entrusting somebody with something that we consider precious that we consider precious to us, whether be it an object or a subject. This dimension of the meaning of A’manah is inherently ethical and is based on past experience, something that makes it both a product of caution and incrementalism. In Arabic culture, the protection of A’manah could be more precious than the life of the person protecting it. In other words, A’manah, which has social and religious connotations is an important concept in Arab culture and is deeply related to the genuine efforts made to protect the A’manah (Barakat 1993). In our context, one may speak of the obligation to protect the A’manah, or its various parts, depending on who is the agent of A’amanah. When it comes to religious belief, A’manah is Waqf, which is trust that one cannot give up or compromise, even when this means they may lose their life in protecting it (Ibid). If one translates this meaning into the context of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict one can see that this meaning is embedded in the intractability of the conflict. As a result of the conflict, in which Jews occupied Palestine, Palestinians lost what they not only conceive as homeland in the modern sense, but also A’manah, as a religious endowment that they would be punished for, if not gained back, as explicated in Hamas’ Covenant (Sela and Mishal 2000). In such a case, A’manah could not have been given up or compromised, but was “hijacked” or “kidnapped” by a 226 A. Jamal stranger. This meaning of the concept leads us to understanding one of the deep motivations behind the unwillingness of the Palestinians, especially believers, to concede that the land lost not only from the occupation of 1967, but the entire land of Palestine by the Zionist movement, was just; instead it is viewed by many Palestinians—religious and secular—as that which has been lost to colonial invasion. The second layer of the meaning of the concept E”a’taman is rooted in the concept Eiman, which means belief, conviction and faith. This meaning takes us even deeper into the sociocultural and the sociopsychological levels of society, emphasizing belief as integral to trust. This meaning demonstrates that sharing faith, beliefs, or values is a central dimension of the concept of trust in Arab culture, alluding to being Moslem, as explicated by Ibn Manzur and illustrated in the Surat Al-Hugairat from the Qura’an “It is the believers, who entrusted their faith in God and his prophet and thereby did not fear anymore and sacrificed their resources and their soul for the sake of God, these are the truthful” (Ibn Manzur 1883: 23; Surat Al-Hugairat, A’yah 15). This means that the social, or more accurately the communal, is about the sharing of values, as a fundamental starting point in maintaining society and protecting it. This meaning does not entail the existence of essential characteristics, as much as patterns of thinking and behavior that are socially constructed. The act of E’a”timan assumes that the sense of trust is mutual, based on a common language and symbolic codes that form the cultural infrastructure of society. This meaning leads to differentiations in the level of trust based on the sense of normative rather than only physical proximity between the social agents involved. The closer they are in their belief system the more they are able to rely on each other, without fear of betrayal or disappointment. This meaning of trust reflects the “us” versus “them” differentiation, which could be rigid or flexible, based on the level of shared faith or convictions. The closer the latter are, the higher social cohesiveness is and the less conflict there is. This connotation of trust means that in case of intractable conflict, the belief system become a very central variable in feeding the differences, on the one hand and, when looked at from the point of view of transforming the conflict and promoting reconciliation it could be seen as an avenue to be addressed in enabling change, on the other hand. Assuming that beliefs and convictions are socially constructed, their change becomes a very central precondition in guaranteeing conflict transformation and reconciliation. In other words, for trust to be constructed there is a need for a deep and genuine socialization process according to values and convictions that draw the conflicting sides together, based on the values of tolerance and mutual recognition (Jamal 2013). This understanding demonstrates that conflict transformation is not a matter of striking a deal based on self-interest, which is important and has to occur, but is deeply related to a serious effort to establish common values, beliefs and convictions between the conflicting parties. Good faith is indispensable for such a process to take place. It could start before a formal process of conflict resolution takes place and has to continue after it. 12 Trust, Ethics, and Intentionality in Conflict Transformation … 227 Trust as Embedded in Hebrew and Jewish History and Culture The Hebrew concept of trust—Eimun—is not less complex. The Hebrew concept is rooted in several connotations that together form a thick web of meaning that must be considered when analyzing conflict transformation processes and reconciliation. Let us start first with the basic meaning of A’man, which is artist or creator. This meaning is about agency and the creation of “something” in order for the A’man to be such. It is about taking action in the material world, which has both symbolic and spiritual meaning. This is a sociocultural action that forms the basic infrastructure of society and of the human condition, as Hannah Arendt reflects in her concept of work (Arendt 1998). This meaning could be better understood if we speak of another layer of the meaning of the concept of E’imun, which has to do with exercise. It means making people ready for a future task or mission. When located in the social context it means the socialization of people into society and relations with others. The pattern and values of socialization become very central components of the concept that could be deduced from other layers of the meaning of it, as elaborated in the following sentences. E’imun as exercising also has a physical meaning. When relating it to other layers of meaning it means the practicing of belief, leading to another meaning deduced from the same root, namely E’imunah—faith. This meaning reveals the deep affinity between the Arabic and Hebrew concepts of trust, which are deeply related to the system of belief in society. This makes the belief system into a field of central importance for our understanding of the relationship between Jews and Palestinians, whose each of them share very different, but strong belief system and tradition. The sharing of beliefs seems to form an infrastructure for trust in each of the communities, making any bridging efforts between them, empty effort if it does not deal with the deep system of beliefs and convictions in each of the societies. Since conflict situations are about alternative values, morals, and beliefs, the transformation of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict is a serious challenge, especially as a result of the increasing emphasis of each of the sides on their exclusive belief systems and tradition. Another meaning of E’imun is related to Nia’man—Nia’manut, which means being loyal and loyalty, respectively. Trust in Hebrew is connotes loyalty, a meaning that is emphasized in the study of trust reflecting benevolence, compassion and responsibility, as explicated above. To trust is about being loyal or faithful to a divine power, a collective or a place. Being faithful creates a deep bond between a group of people with clear boundaries, differentiating between “us” and “them.” When speaking of trust in Hebrew the concept entails a shared loyalty to something that becomes an important indicator of the location of people vis-a-vis the collective of believers. Modern Jewish nationalism is based on values and norms deeply affiliated with Judaism, despite the efforts made to portray Zionism in secular civic terms (Don Yehiyeh 1998). Nia’man has another important meaning related to the social and legal field. The social meaning has to do with being entrusted with something by somebody. We 228 A. Jamal addressed this same meaning in Arabic, which reflects a social behavior by which a person entrusts somebody else with something to take care of, since the entrusting person either does not want to be identified as doing it or cannot do it. Justice Meir Shamgar said in this regard, “nia’man…acts from a stand point of full authority. Despite the fact that ni’aman is limited to whatever written in the nia’manut document concerning its goals, nonetheless the starting point is that nia’man on a property has the power to do with it whatever the owner could have done” (1991). This understanding is deeply related to the belief system of society, where people at risk or in danger of dying seek others to take care of certain responsibilities that they are not able to do or take care of members of their family, especially kids. This meaning is deeply rooted in cultural and religious values and beliefs, reflecting the existence of shared convictions as a precondition for trust to be established. The legal meaning of Nia’man deals with appointing a trustee. Trusteeship is about representing the interests or values of somebody based on the belief that this representation remains loyal and faithful. Trusteeship is about loyalty and affinity between the entrusting person or group and the entrusted. Any deviation from this bond leads to distrust and as a result conflict. This understanding leads us to another meaning of the concept of trust, namely A’manah, which means contract. E’imun and A’manah come from the same root and are deeply related. This deep affinity between the two reflects the strong bond between trust and agreement. Trust could be viewed as a type of social agreement between various people based on certain convictions or common values. The contract lasts as long as the trust defines the relationship between the members of the agreement. The lack of trust means the abolishing of the contract, something that echoes the meaning of the social contract, as depicted by Jean Jacques Rousseau, as well as later political philosophers, such as John Rawls (Rousseau, 2010; Rawls 1971). According to the social contract tradition, trust is an infrastructural value that facilitates the communication between the various members of society and enable the construction of agreed upon common life. Distrust, which is not equal to lack of trust could become a destructive mechanism that sabotages social communication and leads to conflict (Maoz and Ellis 2008). In conflict situations, characterized with distrust, there is a need not only to build trust, but also to deconstruct distrust, as an initial step in transforming the conflict. This is even truer in situations of proximity. Being embodied in conflictual reality means that the entire valuational and psycho-cultural belief infrastructure has to be transformed when we speak of reconciliation between the conflicting parties. Can Palestinians and Israelis Trust Each Other? At present, one can easily say that Israelis and Palestinians do not trust each other. This statement does not and should not mean that they cannot trust each other ever. The questions we must answer are why they cannot trust each other now and what 12 Trust, Ethics, and Intentionality in Conflict Transformation … 229 must happen, so they are able to in the future. Let us address the first question before we come to the second. There is a need to examine five dimensions of the concept of trust in the Arabic and Hebrew languages and relate them to the cultural and valuational aspects of Palestinians and Israelis in order to answer the first question. Doing so may help us understand how trust is understood by both sides and why the given understandings do not allow for mutual trust. It is argued that these perceptions determine the changes necessary in order to transform the conflict between them and facilitate reconciliation. The following discussion is not conclusive. It seeks to reflect the deepness of the differences between the two sides, something that with due respect cannot be resolved through allocation of disproportionate pieces of land or through policies of national zoning. The following discussion illustrates the dynamics of distrust and the need for serious investment in dealing with its roots, embedded in the cultural and symbolic aspects of both sides’ way of life. Trust as Communal Concept First, one must acknowledge the similarities of the meanings and connotations of the concept of trust in both societies. Although there are differences in the embedded connotations of the etymology of the concept in both languages and cultures, one cannot but pay attention to the depth of the concept in the cultures of both groups. Each of the concepts of trust assumes communal life, as a given ontological entity. The presence of a collective entity defined by mutual trust is related to the socialization of members of the community into it, rendering trust as a fundamental defining sentiment of the infrastructural relations in society. The relations within each of the communities were strictly defined based on close mental, cultural, and valuational bonds, reflected in contractual relations that one cannot be part of the community without obeying them. According to the analysis brought above, trust is not a one-time act, but rather is a relational continuous process that is examined and reexamined constantly based on experience. This turns the experiences of each of the communities, internally and externally, into an important indicator of the quality of trust between individuals and groups within and outside the community. When applying the Arabic and Hebrew meanings of trust to the experience of the two communities one can see that these interpretations of trust were absent from their initial encounter. The constituting moment of the relations between Palestinians and Jews occurred in the early years of the twentieth century. These years could be seen as the “zero point” of the relations between them. These years are years of awakening, astonishment, disappointments, and grief. Each of the sides entered the relationship unwillingly. They came with their deep communal norms, which are fundamentally different. They also came with their past experiences, which were also different. Palestinians lived for centuries under Othman rule, as part of the Islamic empire in which they did not enjoy any autonomy. Jewish 230 A. Jamal immigrants came from a different traumatic background, seeking refuge in a place in which a different people feels at home. These are the years when the Palestinians discovered the real intentions of Jewish immigrants, represented by a well-connected and funded Zionist Federation. Although initially Palestinians were mostly indifferent toward Jewish immigration, as refugees that sought shelter from persecution in Eastern Europe and in Russia, their perspective changed when Jews began expressing their national aspirations to establish a homeland of their own in Palestine. These aspirations intensified those gaps between the two communities, instigating Palestinian resentment of the idea of Jewish political presence in Palestine on the one hand and more Jewish insistence on countering Palestinian national sentiment. The British Mandate in Palestine fueled further the differences between the two communities, deepening thereby, the distrust between them. The security, loyalty, faithfulness, and contractual meanings of trust began to take exclusive nature, delineating the antagonism between them. Palestinians began to feel that their security, way of life, norms, and culture are threatened by Jewish increasing presence. Jewish settlers began, on their part, to experience Palestinian resentment of their political aspirations, as a threat that should be dealt with seriously. Already in the early 1920 Jewish immigrants, especially those involved in settling the land, acknowledged not only the Palestinian presence on the land, but also the counter national aspirations of a growingly militant population that sought to protect its possession of its homeland. The realization of Palestinian aspiration was not recognized and respected by Jewish immigrants, but rather in the contrary. The Zionist movement began establishing a “parallel society,” separated from Palestinians, establishing thereby colonial relations, with the clear support of the British Empire. The purchase of lands by the Jewish Agency and the colonization process deepened the suspicion and turned distrust into a defining characteristic of almost every interaction between the two sides. The 1921, 1929, 1936–39, 1948–49, 1956, 1967, 1978, 1982–85, 1987–93, 2000–2003, 2006, 2011, 2015 major clashes between Jews and Palestinians each marked another turning point in deepening the distrust between them. Distrust, as lack of security, truthfulness, agreement, etc. came not only to characterize the relationship between them, but also to motivate each of the sides in each contact between them. The physical proximity between them, especially after 1967 led to furthering the cultural, psychological and normative remoteness between them. The asymmetric relations between the two sides, especially the imposition of new political and demographic reality in 1948 and the occupation of the West Bank and Gaza Strip in 1967, institutionalized the distrust between the two sides. Each of the sides, albeit with different capacities, resources, and means, have constructed their identity in antagonistic terms, establishing exclusive self-perceptions, as a major defining principle of their legitimate existence in Palestine. The continuous Zionist political and demographic expansionist policies, on the one hand and the Palestinian resistance by all means, on the other reflected the incompatible intentions of the two sides, maintaining suspicion as the defining characteristic of the relations between them. Negative experiences and interactions turned insecurity 12 Trust, Ethics, and Intentionality in Conflict Transformation … 231 into another defining characteristic of the relations between them. The rapprochement between the two sides in the years 1993–1996 reflected a serious breakthrough in the relations between the two sides, but seems not to have been able to overcome the deep distrust between them. The dominant self-perception of each of the sides, their sense of security, decency, faithfulness, and communality, were neither seriously addressed nor genuinely transformed. Although attempts were made to address functional meanings of trust, ethical dimensions, which would have demanded the humanization of the conflict and addressing the deep needs of each of the communities, were left outside the negotiating rooms (Bar-Siman-Tov 2015). The need for ethical proximity, benevolence and compassion were not translated into the communications between the two sides. The asymmetric relations, conditioned the contact between them, where the Israeli side sought to institutionalize its upper hand in the conflict and the Palestinians sought to seize a historic opportunity that grants them a new grounding for their further struggle to realize their aspired for national rights. Mechanisms of historical acknowledgment, such as truth and reconciliation commissions, historical narrative revisions, official apology and public commemoration, and recognition of past wrongs were not integrated in transforming the relationship between the two sides (Bashir 2011; Bar-Tal and Bennink 2004). This common fact left the common self-perceptions of the two sides, including their narrative, justifications and morality untouched, thereby constructing genuine mutual trust based on ethical transformative mutual recognition outside the negotiating room. Trust as Experience and as Security Palestinians could be, and are easily targeted by Israeli overwhelming military power. The Israeli security forces managed to penetrate all components of Palestinian society and fully control almost every piece of knowledge about it. The Israeli army has waged wars since 1967 against the Palestinian civilian population in the West Bank, as in 2002, and in Gaza, as demonstrated in the last three wide and devastating military operations in Gaza. The asymmetry in the power relations turns Palestinian life into bare life, making insecurity and anxiety into the defining feature of the relationship with Israelis. The establishment of the Israeli state and its occupation of the West Bank and Gaza since 1967 make Jewish insecurity mainly personal and limited-to-limited zones, defined by Palestinian resistance to the injustices they face (Canetti-Nisim et al. 2009). Palestinian insecurity, which is collective, as well as personal is continuous and persistent. The state of refugeeness and living under expanding occupation that controls every dimension of Palestinian life leaves no place for security (Azoulay and Ophir 2012). The continuous expansion of Israeli settlements in Palestinian areas of the West Bank, the siege on Gaza, and the hollowing out of Palestinian citizenship inside Israel demonstrate that the asymmetry of power 232 A. Jamal enable Israelis to hijack Palestinian security (Weizman 2007; Jamal 2007a). This insecurity is deepened through the justification apparatus reflected in the Israeli official discourse, which is not willing to take any blame for the distrust between the two sides. Palestinians have, and still view themselves as victims of Jewish colonization. Despite their demographic superiority before 1948, they lacked the diplomatic and military power that the Jewish settlements in Palestine had (Khalidi 2006). This asymmetry defined the means by which Palestinians resisted Jewish immigration and settlement. It also determined the way by which Palestinians resisted Israeli occupation after 1967 (Sayigh 1997). Palestinian resistance utilized means that did not always meet high-moral standards, feeding the Israeli denial policy with the necessary data in order to free itself from any responsibility for the tragic deterioration in the relations between the two sides. Palestinians are blamed for the relations of distrust and are depicted as unreliable (McMahon 2010). The internal Palestinian rift between Fatah and Hamas, since the early 1990s and the different future political visions of the two parties creates an ambiguous Palestinian position, as to the real intentions of the Palestinian national movement. According to Israeli official discourse, Palestinians have a hidden agenda, namely to destroy the Jewish state. This argument, which is deeply embedded in the Israeli diplomacy of denial, reflects the efforts made by Israel to characterize the conflict as if Jews are the victims of Palestinian aggression, which is embedded in the Palestinians being many times framed as Amalek. This is the case even when Israel raids Palestinian cities with F-16 jets, destroying complete neighborhoods. Palestinians are depicted as the source of all evils, and as another enemy of the Jewish people amidst history. This perception of Palestinians overshadows the fact that Palestinians have paid a heavy human price for Israeli independence and still suffer from Israeli occupation and lack of any willingness for a compromise. This does not mean that Israelis do not feel insecure, as a result of Palestinian persistence to demand their homeland or part of it back. It is true that Israeli insecurity is partially fabricated and is part of the Israeli security and diplomatic doctrine. Nonetheless, one cannot ignore the fact that part of the insecurity, especially on the personal level is genuine. This insecurity is deeply related to the Palestinian threat, despite the gaps in the tangible power relations between the two sides. Furthermore, the lack of a unified Palestinian voice and the ambivalence about Palestinian political aspirations make Israelis insecure to take risks that may help in building mutual trust. The unwillingness of Israelis to support transitional justice policies, such as recognition of Palestinian Nakba and taking partial responsibility for it or correcting past wrongs could be related to distrust and lack of confidence in Palestinian “genuine” intentions, namely dismantling the Jewish state. This psychology of suspicion is deeply rooted in Jewish history and provoked by Palestinian resistance activity, notwithstanding the huge gaps of power between the two sides. 12 Trust, Ethics, and Intentionality in Conflict Transformation … 233 Trust as Loyalty In these given circumstances trust as communal loyalty did not have any chance to rise between Jews and Palestinians neither before 1948 nor after the Palestinian Nakba and later the Israeli occupation of the West bank and Gaza Strip in 1967. The two political communities, albeit differently and with different means and resources, built their perception of loyalty in antagonistic terms. Jewish loyalty is ethno-national, based on exclusive terms, when it comes to Palestinians, even when we speak of Israeli Palestinian citizens. Palestinian loyalty is deeply related to the indigenous self-perception and to the sense of victimhood related to the Nakba and refugeeness. This leads to a negative dialectical relationship between internal and external trust. It is not only that trust as loyalty among Israelis and Palestinians is mutually exclusive, but also antagonistic. The more mutual external distrust there is, the more internal trust is nurtured, as an important psychological mechanism of national security. Patriotism and loyalty feed the national discourse of both sides and confront the other side, as enemy. The Israeli overhand on the militaristic, economic, diplomatic, and discursive levels blind Israelis from any human dimensions in the Palestinian struggle for statehood and liberation. Israeli superiority suppresses Palestinian ability to overcome daily victimhood and extend recognition of the genuine fears of Israelis. Palestinian daily sufferings, whether as refugees or living under occupation, make almost impossible for them to express empathy with Jewish national aspirations and the need for sovereignty. This is especially true after Palestinians expressed their willingness to compromise 78 % of their homeland for the sake of historic settlement between the two sides. The continuous expansion of Israeli settlements and the oppressive hand of the Israeli army in the West bank and Gaza Strip, which reflect the unwillingness of Israelis to compromise (Newman 2014), make Palestinians the ultimate victims of the interaction between the two sides, subsiding any human considerations when it comes to attacks on citizens in the heart of Israeli cities (Brym and Araj 2006). Trust as Contract Trust is deeply related to power relations. In cases at which infrastructural trust does not exist, power becomes central. People, whether individuals or collectives, who have power can allow themselves to take risks in their relations with others. Their ability to overcome any betrayal of trust allows them to take measures and adopt behavioral patterns that others may not allow themselves to do. This means that in clear asymmetrical power relations in a setting of conflict the powerful side could take risks if it seeks accommodation or any other type of rapprochement with its adversary/enemy. The risk of trust is not an easy gesture in a bloody conflict such as the Israeli–Palestinian one. However, if it is to happen it is more expected from the powerful party, despite the legitimate discussion that the definition of who is 234 A. Jamal powerful and who is the underdog is debatable. It is true that despite the power gaps between Israel and the Palestinians, the former shows much lack of confidence on the moral, ethical and existential levels, an epicurean phenomenon in the given circumstances, which could be related to the fact that the two sides of the conflict are supported by external parties, such as the Arab countries for Palestinians and world Jewry for Israel. Notwithstanding this, especially if third parties are involved in the reconciliation process that guarantee the security of the powerful party in case its measures are “misused,” the latter is expected to be able to trade power with trust. This understanding of trust is based on good intentions and genuine willingness to give resolving the conflict a chance. In such case, trust could be understood as contract, as depicted above in the etymology of the concept of trust in both Arabic and Hebrew. A contract is a negotiated agreement based on good faith and the free will and consent of the parties involved. It cannot be based on bad faith or a manipulation. It is not the continuation of the conflict by different means or buying time to improve positions. For a contract to succeed, it has to be a fair contract and not necessarily a reflection of the asymmetry of power between the sides. It has to serve the utility of all parties involved, if it is to promote conflict transformation. Toward a New Application of Trust in Conflict Transformation and Reconciliation Trust, no matter what we mean by it is not a metaphysical idea. It is a social, psychological and political practice that is contextually constructed. As indicated above it is not a constant variable, but rather changes according to experience and circumstances (Van Ingen and Bekkers 2015). For the average person trust is a feature that is deeply related to security. The need for security makes the reception of certain values, beliefs and patterns that are perceived to support security much easier than others. When speaking of collective trust, the role of leaders and socializing institutions in establishing trust, determining its form, and content and in defining its object become very important. The boundaries of trust and the identity of those that can or cannot be trusted is gradually determined based on personal as well as collective experiences. In this context intentions become seriously crucial. The lack of trust between Palestinians and Israelis is not a result of an invisible hand. It is neither a result of occasional experiential circumstances, nor related to physical suffering only. Distrust is not the lack of trust only. It is a psycho-sociological and political situation that is in conflict situations, intentionally constructed and to a great extent strategically orchestrated (see Bar-Tal 2013). Given that trust forms an important brick in conflict transformation and reconciliation and given that trust is not a simple mechanism, any change in the state of trust has to start with the undeclared intentions of the parties—elites and leaders. It is true that after a century of distrust and mistrust leaders cannot suddenly change 12 Trust, Ethics, and Intentionality in Conflict Transformation … 235 the direction of the tide, but nonetheless, it is possible and could be conducted through the basic integration of historical acknowledgment mechanisms and the integration of transitional and restorative justice (Teitel 2002; Druckman and Albin 2011). Solutions purported to build trust in conflicted communities are broad and varied, encompassing a range of emotional-psychological objectives to concrete policies for use in negotiation. Despite the apparent lack of agreement between scholars, studies show that trust is not a static element of society and that there is substantial within-person variation of trust over one’s life. Therefore, it is hypothesized by many that effective and purposeful negotiation carries the potential to affect trust in parties and overall, bring about successful reconciliation. For individuals to trust institutions and for institutions to inspire this trust, scholars agree that “universalistic, power-sharing institutions as well as those that sanction noncooperative behavior, provide an environment of credibility—allowing generalized trust to flourish,” (Freitag and Bühlmann 2009). Such a solution “provides a basis for expectations of reciprocity” (Freitag and Bühlmann 2009), joint gain and good faith intentions (Olekalns and Smith 2005). The past experiences of both parties of the conflict, especially the deterioration in their relations, resulted from the unsuccessful Oslo process, which was sabotaged by spoilers in both sides, demonstrate that any efforts for conflict transformation and reconciliation have to be gradual, slow, inclusive, and based on good faith. Creating fundamental changes in the current reality may instigate reactions that spoil the whole effort. Maintaining the current reality is also impossible for those living under occupation and those who fear for their basic ontological security. Therefore, building trust can start with symbolic gestures that provide evidence as to the good intentions and facilitate following steps. In this context the role of third parties becomes crucial. While studies show third-party facilitators have a marked effect on negation outcomes (Tzafrir et al. 2012; Lewicki et al. 1992), building trust is more effective when initiated from within the region or between affected parties (de Buitrago 2009). In particular, third parties’ messages of empowerment have been shown to restore victims’ sense of power and perpetrators’ moral image, but not in the eyes of ‘the other’ and only principally in the eyes of the third-party itself (Shnabel et al. 2014). This actually served to be a detriment to reconciliation and negatively and indirectly thwarted perpetrator’s behavior in negotiation. Messages between parties, rather than a third-party mediator, have been shown to restore trust between victims and perpetrators (Shnabel et al. 2014). Therefore, a well-thought role of third parties to provide the support needed to build trust is important as a central part of the process. 236 A. Jamal Conclusion The conclusion of the discussion so far could be summarized as the indispensability for a new starting moment between Israelis and Palestinians, if we are to turn trust into an instrument and as a condition for reconciliation between the two sides. The ethical and functional meanings of trust are very lacking in Israeli–Palestinian relations. The self-perceptions of both sides are based on narratives and experiences that instigated distrust. Understanding the embeddedness of both sides in asymmetrical proximity makes both sides vulnerable, turning trust into an ethical challenge. Whereas Israelis are vulnerable as a result of their success to become sovereign and have the overhand in every interaction with the Palestinians, thereby justifying the excessive use of force in handling the relationship with the Palestinians, the latter are vulnerable since they are a weak victim that could exploit its victimhood in justifying patterns of conduct that are unethical. Any effort for reconciliation has to start with the recognition of the mistrust as an ethical challenge. If trusting someone involves an appeal that they take responsibility for our well-being and if acting so is the best examination of morality, then the current situation of the conflict, especially in a situation in which the two peoples live in close proximity, none of them can claim morality. For them to claim morality they have to act morally, as a manifestation of mutual trust. 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Chapter 13 Lack of Trust as a Barrier to Reconciliation in the Israeli–Palestinian Conflict: Attitudes of Israeli (Jewish) Elite Members Toward Reconciliation with the Palestinians Yehudith Auerbach This paper addresses two crucial questions: What are the prospects for reconciliation in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict? What is the role of trust in this process? We will address these questions in keeping with the following outlines: First I will present the definitions of the main concepts used in this study, namely, Reconciliation, identity conflict, trust, metanarratives, and national narratives. Following this presentation I will introduce a model of reconciliation which I have termed The Reconciliation Pyramid and specify its assumptions and stages. The Israeli–Palestinian conflict will be described briefly as an identity conflict. I will follow with a methodological paragraph, present the main findings of the research, and suggest some concluding remarks in relation to the research questions. Reconciliation Reconciliation is a concept of indeterminate meaning which has engendered much discussion and has received many definitions. This study suggests understanding reconciliation as a conflict-ending process, starting usually after a formal agreement has been reached between two (or more) adversaries in an identity conflict, which consists of a series of psychological, cognitive, and political moves aimed at bridging the narrative gap between the two adversaries and infusing their relationships with mutual trust and security. Reconciliation between peoples, rather than formal peace between governments, is needed particularly in identity conflicts. Unlike material conflicts that evolve over “real” material resources such as territory, water, oil, border, security, and the like, an identity conflict, is the kind of conflict that occurs when at least one side feels Y. Auerbach (&) Bar Ilan University, Ramat Gan, Israel e-mail: auerby@gmail.com © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_13 241 242 Y. Auerbach that the other is negating its collective national identity and thus threatening its existence as a national and sovereign entity. In such circumstances the rivalry turns into hatred and wish for revenge nurtured constantly by colliding narratives and metanarratives. Given the depth of the emotions involved in such conflicts it is not surprising that the most difficult barrier toward reconciliation between the adversaries is lack of trust. Trust is typically defined as: “Belief or willingness to believe that one can rely on the other’s (the enemy) honesty, benign intentions, readiness and ability to engage in a genuine peace and reconciliation process.” (Based on Oxford English Dictionary). Trust is the sine qua non of reconciliation. Without trust there can be no reconciliation between rivals and more particularly between the parties in an identity conflict. The Reconciliation Pyramid Model—RPM The RPM is designed to serve as a model for analyzing the reconciliation process in identity conflicts and does not encompass the large menu of processes and strategies (grouped under various titles such as conflict management; conflict handling; conflict resolution) suggested for ending other kinds of conflicts. The Reconciliation Pyramid posits that reconciliation involves both psychological processes and political-cultural-diplomatic moves. The psychological processes, which engender a movement toward the attitude change required for reconciliation, range from emotional-warm to cognitive-cold steps, and develop from the bottom-up. Diplomatic-political moves, without which reconciliation will not materialize, proceed in a top-down direction. The RPM adopts a by now well-established approach (e.g. Cobb 2003; Dwyer 1999; Ignatieff 1999; Makdisi and Silverstein 2006; Tachibana 1998) which considers the “narrative,” i.e., the subjective story that people tell themselves and others about events in the past or present, as a key to understanding the evolution as well as the extenuation of hatred and violence between ethnic/national groups. The RPM further suggests that in order to understand the dynamics of an identity conflict, it is crucial to differentiate between two interrelated but distinct kinds of narratives: national narratives and national metanarratives (Auerbach 2009, 2010). National narratives are stories about central figures, as well as fundamental events in the history of a nation, told and retold from generation to generation, so that they have become part of the fabric of that nation’s history. The National Metanarrative (also called: “Master-Narratives”) (see Hammack 2003, 2009), is the “big” story, which places the national narratives within a larger, all-embracing framework. Its main function is to connect between, and thus make sense of the national narratives which relate to isolated events in the nation’s history. The national metanarrative serves to embellish the nation’s “chosen 13 Lack of Trust as a Barrier to Reconciliation … 243 glories” and to rationalize its “chosen traumas” (Volkan 1997). The metanarratives of two rivals in an identity conflict tend to stand in sharp contradistinction to each other (Cobb 2003), and serve as the basis and justification for contradictory claims regarding national identity; the exclusive right over disputed territory and victimhood. The victimhood component of the metanarrative is of particular importance and has significant behavioral consequences since, “Seeing the self as victim places the in-group on the moral high ground at the same time that it serves to justify inflicting harm on the out-group” (Brewer 2011, 135). The victimhood posture bequeaths on each of the adversaries an aura of innocence and irreproachability, which neither would wish to cede to the other. Though quite stable in themselves, national narratives and metanarratives are susceptible to change over time. Furthermore, different groups in each community may believe in different versions of national metanarratives and narratives. However, it is assumed that because of their important role as foundations of national solidarity and sense of righteousness, they will remain unchanged and even gain strength and acceptability in proportion to the severity of perceived threats to national existence. The RPM was crafted as a tool for studying the psycho-political processes involved in climbing the following seven rungs of an imaginary reconciliation ladder: acquaintance with the “other’s” narratives; acknowledgement of theses narratives; expressing empathy toward the other’s plights; assuming responsibility for wrongs done to the other; offering restitution; asking for forgiveness and finally incorporating the other’s narratives and metanarratives into their own. The basic assumption that underscores the sequence of the seven rungs of the RPM is that reconciliation is a long and continuing process. In order to replace hatred, animosity, and distrust, which are endemic to many if not all identity conflicts, with friendship, harmony, and trust, the two sides have to progress gradually. They have to overcome psychological (cognitive as well as emotional) and political barriers. There may be movements back and forth up and down on the rungs of the ladder, since the order and pace of the movement from one step to another are not predestined. The Israeli–Palestinian as an Identity Conflict In line with previous literature (e.g. Kelman 1999, 2001, 2007; Kriesberg 2001; Oren et al. 2004), we suggest that the Israeli–Palestinian conflict is mainly one of identity. Certainly, the conflict has significant tangible aspects, such as territory, borders, Jerusalem, water, security, settlements, and refugees. However, the principal cause of insecurity and distrust between the two antagonists is the mutual belief that one is denying the identity and legitimacy of the other as a national independent entity. The fundamental dispute over each other’s identity has led to the frequent violent clashes over the disputed territory (Eretz [Land of] Israel versus 244 Y. Auerbach Palestine) and has been accompanied by a growing sense of victimhood on both sides. These three issues: identity, right to territory, and victimhood are, as we have stated before, the core elements of the opposing metanarratives of two sides in an identity conflict. The colliding metanarratives gave birth to, and are enhanced by rival national narratives surrounding crucial events in the history of the conflict, such as the 1948 conflict—the War of Independence—for the Israeli side and Nakba (“catastrophe”) for the Palestinians. Researchers who have studied the opposing narratives in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict have concluded that the deep divide between the national narratives of the two adversaries cannot be bridged (e.g., Bar-On 2006; Scham et al. 2005). If this is indeed true, then reconciliation seems to be beyond reach. To what extent is this pessimistic forecast accurate? I will try to answer this question through an empirical study of the attitudes of the Israeli–Jewish opinion makers toward reconciliation. The next sections will first introduce the methodology used in this study and, subsequently the interviews carried out with 20 Jewish opinion makers in Israel in order to ascertain their views with regard to prospects of reconciliation in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. Methodology The methodology used in this study was that of a qualitative, semi-structured individual interview. This means that the main research tool is not a fully structured questionnaire, neither is it a free and spontaneous conversation with the interviewees. Rather, the researcher used a preprepared “topic guide” (Gaskell 2000, 40) based on a conceptual framework which relates to the central research aims and questions. Opinion makers were chosen as the focus for this study because they constitute “epistemic authorities.” People tend to listen to them and trust their views (Kruglanski 1989; Kruglanski et al. 2005). Furthermore, it is assumed that the reconciliation process is very demanding and can involve painful concessions and drastic attitude changes in the principal conflict adversaries. If there is no support for such moves by at least part of the elites, chances for reconciliation are very slim. This, of course, does not imply that endorsement by the elites is enough to push the process of reconciliation forward. One of the prerequisites for having their voice heard and listened to, is resonance with current feelings and attitudes (Bar-Tal 1990, 71) When, as is often the case in protracted conflicts, peace-loving elites sound too accommodating toward the “enemy,” they are in danger of alienating themselves from the vox populi and thus losing their influence over the public at large. However, if a serious attempt is made by the researcher to select leaders of public opinion in various spheres, with different audiences, one can confidently assume that each of the selected persona constitutes an “epistemic authority” for a meaningful number of people. 13 Lack of Trust as a Barrier to Reconciliation … 245 While the semi-structured interview presents the same topics to all participants, it allows for flexibility on the part of the interviewer to adapt the interview to the particular participant. The interviewee is free and even encouraged, to intervene in the course of the interview, change the order of answers to the questions, add various aspects which were not originally included in the interviewer’s list of topics and omit some questions without being interrupted by the interviewer (Bernard and Ryan 2010). However, most of interviewees related to most of the questions, so that a comparison across interviews becomes possible. The Questionnaire1 The questionnaire used in this study consisted of nine questions which were derived from the conceptual framework presented by the Reconciliation Pyramid Model (RPM). As shown in the theoretical part, the RPM posits seven rungs, which, arguably, the two sides in an identity conflict who wish to reach reconciliation will climb in a gradual and progressive way. The questions extrapolated from the reconciliation model helped to assess the extent of the respondents’ readiness to take these steps in accordance with the order prescribed by the model. The Interviewees The interviewees were Jewish Israelis holding senior positions in five different areas: religion, literature, politics, academia, mass media, and civil service. Thus, the interview can be considered as an “elite interview” (Boeije 2010, 63). Twenty persons were interviewed: Two religious authorities: Rabbi Benny Lau, who is one of the most influential rabbis among the national religious public in Israel, and more particularly among the young generation. I wished to interview (the by-now late) Rabbi Ovadia Yosef who was (and still is) recognized as one of the most important religious authorities in Israel, and as the spiritual, as well as political leader of the Shas party (the party which represents the ultra-Orthodox Sephardi—Mizrachi— Oriental Jews) in the Knesset—the Israeli parliament. I was informed that he had been refusing all requests for interviews and the closest one can get to Rabbi Yosef is through the (by now late) attorney David Glass, who had a very close relationship with him, so that, in effect, Glass serves as a kind of spokesman for the rabbi. In addition to these two representatives of the religious elite, the list of interviewees included four prominent writers: Eli Amir, Haim Be’er who is a professor of literature at Ben Gurion University and thus can also be counted as an academic, Chaim Guri and Eyal Megged; In addition, one minister (at the time of the 1 The list of questions is presented in appendix 1. 246 Y. Auerbach interview), the Minister of Religious Services, Yaakov Margi from the Shas party; four Knesset members: Dan Meridor (Likud, right wing), Zehava Gal-On (Meretz, left wing), Amir Peretz (Labor, leaning to the left, at the time of the interview, now [September, 2014] Hatnuah), Nachman Shai (Kadima, center, at the time of the interview, now [September, 2014] Labor); four senior journalists: Yaakov Achimeir, Yaron Dekel, Yair and Bambi Sheleg; three academics: Prof. Galia Golan, Prof. Menachem Klein and Dr. Zeev Hanin who is also a high ranking civil servant; a former minister, Rafi Eitan and a senior army officer, Brig. Gen. (res.) Michael (Mike) Herzog.2 The selection of the interviewees does not claim to be representative. Rather, in accordance with the expectations put forward by qualitative research scholars (e.g. Gaskell 2000) it reflects the range of opinions prevailing among the five groups of elite members mentioned above. Each respondent either stated or was reminded by the interviewer that they spoke for themselves and was not expected to represent any group. All but three of the participants (Galia Golan, Zehava Gal-On and Bambi Sheleg) were male. Although our sample was not designed to be statistically representative of the population, the small number of women is not out of proportion to reality. For example, the number of women currently (at the time of the research) in the Knesset, was 27 out of 120 members [Knesset 2012. It has increased since then to 30, (Knesset 2015)]. The interviewees come from different backgrounds and they differ in age, vocation, and their geographic location. Three of the interviews (Meridor, Megged and Klein) were carried out in 2006 as part of the initial stage of the study. The other 17 interviews were held between November 2010 and November 2011. The consent of the interviewees to being interviewed on the topic of reconciliation with the Palestinians was checked in an earlier stage through telephone calls or email. The interviewer, who in this case was the researcher, made an effort to accommodate the participant’s desire to spend more time on certain issues, to listen carefully and not to interrupt the flow as recommended by qualitative research scholars (Boeije 2010). Interview Locations The Interview location was chosen by the interviewees. The writers Guri and Amir opted for their own homes. Others preferred coffee shops: Achimeir, Dekel, Gal-On, Be’er, Megged in Israel; Golan was interviewed in the lobby of a hotel in Waltham, MA. USA. Eitan, Glass (speaking for Rabbi Ovadia Yosef), Hanin, Herzog, Klein, Lau, Margi, Meridor, Peretz, and Shai chose to meet in their offices. The married couple, Yair and Bambi Sheleg, came together to the researcher’s 2 The list of interviewees is presented in appendix 2. 13 Lack of Trust as a Barrier to Reconciliation … 247 home. However, each of them was addressed separately and gave his or her own answers to the questionnaire. The Process of Data Gathering and Analysis On average, each interview lasted approximately one and a half hours. With the explicit permission of the respondents, the interview was recorded, so as to provide the researcher with the full text of the dialogue and allow accurate quotations. However, verbatim notes were taken in order not to lose content if the tape recorder failed to function in the course of the interview (which actually happened twice). The recorded content was transcribed immediately after the interview. The interviews were conducted in Hebrew, the mother tongue of the interviewer as well as most of the respondents, the transcript was translated into English, and only then analyzed. The Question of Interviewees’ Discretion The researcher notified the respondents that the interviews were part of an academic project, the results of which would be published in an academic journal. All the interviewees gave their permission to be identified and quoted. Two of them (Amir and Yair Sheleg) asked to see the transcripts of the interviews and made some revisions. I undertook to respect specific requests for keeping some utterances off record. However, this need was required in only a few cases. Main Findings Between “Reconciliation Avoiders” and “Reconciliation Pursuers” The RPM presupposes seven rungs of reconciliation starting with the readiness to become acquainted with the narratives and metanarratives of the other, and culminating in a willingness to incorporate the other’s story into one’s own. Did the sequence of the seven steps suggested by the RPM receive empirical support? Did the respondents who, for example, were willing to apologize to the Palestinians— the sixth stage of the Pyramid—express readiness to take the initial five steps leading up to this sixth step? There is no conclusive answer to this question. However, a visual depiction of the answers given to the nine questions extrapolated from the RPM is in the shape 248 Y. Auerbach of a pyramid, with a very large base and a very small top. In other words, we found wide acceptance regarding the first reconciliation stage, decreasing readiness to step up along the reconciliation rungs suggested by the RPM and minimal willingness to take the last step—the incorporation of the narratives of the other into one’s own public discourse. All the respondents in this study, except for Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, through Attorney David Glass, were ready for the first step: acquaintance with the “other’s” narrative and metanarrative. All but three (academic Hanin, minister Margi and journalist Bambi Sheleg,) displayed a readiness to teach and transmit the other’s narratives and metanarratives and introduce them into the public discourse through the education system or via the media. Some (journalists Yair Sheleg and Achimeir) emphasized that the Palestinian narratives should only be considered “in a Zionist context.” The second step, acknowledgement, was for almost all of the interviewees a tough hurdle to overcome. “I cannot afford acknowledging the other’s metanarrative. The moment I do so—I might as well pack up,” said Yaakov Achimeir succinctly. On the same lines, writer Eli Amir states: “acknowledging their metanarrative is naiveté and stupidity on our side … The Palestinian narrative regarding the historical roots of a Palestinian national entity… is false and baseless.” The historical fact, says Amir, is that there was no Palestinian people in Palestine until the beginning of Zionism. The author Amir as well as Dr. Hanin, former Minister Rafi Eitan, and journalist Bambi Sheleg, claim that Palestinians have invented their identity. Bambi Sheleg, who expressed her strong wish for reconciliation with the Palestinians, believes that acknowledging their metanarratives will prevent rather than promote any advancement toward reaching this goal. The extent of readiness to acknowledge the other’s metanarrative differs with respect to the three components of the metanarrative. Many of the respondents (16) were willing, to one degree or another, to accept the other’s identity and recognize the Palestinians as a national entity. The recognition of the other’s national identity embraces, sometimes implicitly, an acknowledgement of his rights, at least to parts of the territories which are in dispute between the two national entities. Regarding the victimhood component of the metanarrative, almost all the interviewees were ready to consider Palestinian individuals who suffered physically or otherwise during the conflict as victims. But only three of the respondents —Golan, Klein, and Megged were ready to recognize the Palestinian people as collectively constituting the victim in the conflict. All the others shared more or less the same position: the blame for Palestinian suffering lies exclusively with the Arab and Palestinian leaders. It was and still is their refusal to recognize the right of the Jewish people to a state of its own that caused and continues to generate bloodshed and agony. A similar pattern was found in the respondents’ position regarding empathy, the third rung in the RPM. Asked about his readiness to feel and express empathy with the Palestinians, Achimeir answered: “As a human being, I cannot avoid harbouring human feelings,” “But,” he hastens to add, “My empathy as a human being only 13 Lack of Trust as a Barrier to Reconciliation … 249 goes to those other human beings who are innocent, namely not involved in killing or in other terrorist activity.” This differentiation between innocent Palestinians who were harmed in the course of the conflict and who, therefore, are entitled to empathy, and the Palestinian collective that does not deserve any manifestation of empathy or sympathy, emerged in one way or another, in the answers of almost all the interviewees. Even those who displayed full acquaintance with the Palestinian narratives (first stage of the RPM), and a considerable degree of readiness to acknowledge a great part of their metanarratives (second rung) were reluctant to move up to the third rung, namely empathy. The only interviewee who expressed genuine empathy toward the Palestinians was Prof. Galia Golan. She emphasized that as a person with a highly developed collective consciousness, she harbors empathy with the Palestinians as a collective and, accordingly, with their narratives. She further explained that as a Jew whose links to Zionism and to the State of Israel stem from a deep identification with the history of her people, although herself not being a victim of persecution, she cannot but feel empathy and understanding toward the story of the Palestinian people as a collective. The micro-level empathy displayed by many of the interviewees enabled them to individualize the reconciliation process. By the same token they refused, at this stage of the conflict, to suggest unconditional reparations, assume even partial responsibility for the suffering of the Palestinians as collective, or offer an apology to the Palestinian people (rungs no. 4, 5, and 6 respectively in the RPM). Instead, they were ready to pay restitution, take responsibility, or even offer apologies for wrongs done to individuals, to those innocent Palestinians who were harmed because of the conflict, while macro-level steps were deferred to a later stage, when both sides will sit at the negotiation table. The collective aspect of the Reconciliation Pyramid was rejected by almost all the respondents due to the moral and political implications. In the eyes of most of the respondents, viewing the Palestinians as a collective victim, assuming responsibility for evil done to them or offering them one-sided reparations or apologies implied the admission of guilt for the conflict and thus would grant legitimacy to demands for political concessions. Among the respondents, only Golan, Megged and Klein, were ready to contemplate such a step. Almost all of the others put the blame on the Arab people and the Palestinian leaders whose original sin was their refusal to accept the 1947 United Nations’ partition plan. Were they to assume responsibility, it would be for the perceived stupidity and near-sightedness of the Israeli leadership, which was oblivious to the detrimental consequences of Israel’s failures. Mistakes there have been, and plenty of them, admitted most of the interviewees, but not premeditated moral transgressions. Unexpectedly, in terms of the model, which posits narrative incorporation at the pinnacle, as the last and culminating move toward reconciliation, some of the respondents displayed willingness to integrate the Palestinian versions of specific events in Israeli history books, while at the same time, rejecting restitution or apologies, which were presented in the pyramid as precursors of narrative incorporation. 250 Y. Auerbach This seeming contradiction results, I believe, from some confusion regarding the incorporation concept. Worthington has suggested that narrative incorporation is achieved when “the two groups communicate their stories and form a public common history” (Worthington 2006, 263). This kind of undertaking has been carried out successfully by Germany and France, which encouraged their historians to examine the respective histories and ultimately to publish two joint history books in 2008, which covered almost all of the divides and differences between the two countries, from 1815 to the present day. This was possible only after the two democratic states had fully normalized their relations and were cooperating at many levels (Carlowitz 2010). The chances of such a step in the still bleeding Israeli– Palestinian conflict are slim indeed. A more modest, and to in my mind, a more appropriate term for describing the sensitive move of officially exposing each side to the narratives and metanarratives of the other, was suggested by Prof. Klein. According to him, formulating “neighbouring narratives” based on the “agreeing to disagree” approach is an achievable goal even at this stage of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. The last question put to the interviewees related to their belief in the chances for reconciliation between the two sides in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. Most of the interviewees expressed gloomy forecasts for reconciliation, whether via the stages suggested by the reconciliation pyramid or in any other way, and said that they did not believe that reconciliation is achievable in the foreseeable future. As to the question who is responsible for the freeze in the peace and reconciliation process in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, the respondents’ answers differed. Some of the interviewees (Peretz, Gal-On, Dekel, and Golan) blamed the Israeli leaders, criticizing them for lacking the kind of daring displayed by Prime Minister Menachem Begin and President Anwar al-Sadat in 1977. The other “pessimists” believed that the cardinal problem is the refusal of the Palestinians to recognize the Jews as a people deserving a state of their own. The pain that accompanies that belief was apparent in the words of most of the interviewees, but more notably in the words of Rabbi Lau: “Usually I am an optimistic person, but with regard to reconciliation with the Palestinians, I am pessimistic. There are forces on both sides that promote distrust; the language used is contrary to the language of reconciliation.” He concluded gloomily: “What hope do I bequeath to my children? They will inherit a divided land with no hope!” Rafi Eitan reconfirmed his prediction from 1982: “When Prime Minister Begin promised us 40 years of tranquility—following the first Lebanon War—“I said,” he said “It would take 100 years. Now, 30 years later I repeat it again: We will have to survive another 100 years of violence till we have peace with the Palestinians.” Yaron Dekel professed a similar opinion: “If there is to be reconciliation, it would only occur after another round of violent hostilities between the two sides.” Yair and Bambi Sheleg, and former Minister Margi were somewhat more optimistic, at least in the long run, but they disagreed with regard to the reconciliation trajectory. Whereas Yair Sheleg and Margi think reconciliation should come from above, namely initiated and enhanced by the leadership following a political agreement, Bambi Sheleg believes that the direction is bottom-up: It is the people 13 Lack of Trust as a Barrier to Reconciliation … 251 who, by communicating directly with each other, will find the common denominators between them and will reach understanding. She emphasizes that only on the basis of insisting on “our truth” can understanding be reached. In saying this, she directly challenges the Pyramid’s assumptions regarding the importance of knowing and acknowledging the “truth” of the other as a prerequisite for reconciliation in an identity conflict. The most optimistic interviewees were Eyal Megged, who believes that reconciliation can be reached after a “one state for two peoples” arrangement has been achieved (he admitted, though, that his idea is as yet not fully conceptualized) and Menachem Klein, who stipulates that reconciliation must be predicated on prior political agreement. However, he insists, efforts toward reconciliation initiated by the leadership and promulgated by the elites, have to, and can be made as part of the political process. Galia Golan expresses deep frustration with regard to the chances for peace and reconciliation with the Palestinians, but is not ready to give up: “The more frustrated I get, the more I immerse myself in peace promoting activities.” She calls on all other peace lovers to follow in her steps even if the prospects look slim. Although the answers to the nine preplanned questions given by those interviewed were diverse and multidimensional and did not lend themselves easily to a neat classification, they can be ranked on a continuum spanning the two ends: the pursuit of reconciliation on one hand, and reconciliation avoidance on the other. On the face of it everybody—with the exception of Rabbi Ovadia Yosef— expressed themselves as being in favor of reconciliation with the Palestinians. In fact, the refusal of so many among the respondents to take the reconciliation steps proposed by the RPM suggested that they are closer to the “avoidance” end of the continuum than to the “reconciliation pursuing” end. How do they solve this apparent dissonance? It was found that the “avoiders” employed one or a combination of two or three techniques. 1. Value Neutralization; 2. De-Collectivization; 3. Epistemological Differentiation 1. By using value neutralization, many respondents neutralized the moral aspect of their attitude to the conflict. If moral transgressions have been perpetrated throughout the conflict, goes their argument, it was “they” who committed them. As for “our” side, we had either committed some minor moral sins, for which we have already atoned, or some insignificant mistakes resulting from the stupidity or near-sightedness of our leaders. Once moral terms are removed from the discourse, the respondents who used this technique could tell themselves: “We are exempt from blame and have no guilt and, therefore, cannot be expected to offer apologies or restitution or any other gesture required from 252 Y. Auerbach wrong-doers.” This value neutralization was bolstered with the use of the second technique: De-collectivization. 2. De-collectivization was noticeable when many respondents “divided” the other into two distinct categories: first, the Palestinian people as a collective, and second, Palestinian individuals as private persons. By drawing this distinction between the collective and the individual, the respondent actually argues that only Palestinian individuals, and more accurately “innocent individuals” may have been harmed by “our” actions. At first glance, this can be seen as an important step toward reconciliation. When Achimeir states that the individual Palestinian is a human being just like himself, and, therefore, deserving of empathy, and/or apology and/or restitution, he, apparently, places the out-group member, the Palestinian, in a superordinate category, which theoretically reduces the gap of distrust between the two groups, thus opening the way toward reconciliation. However, in effect de-collectivization plays the opposite role. The superordinate categorization, used exclusively with regard to Palestinian individuals, serves as a dissonance reduction technique, which helps people like Achimeir to circumvent costly reconciliation moves toward the Palestinian people while still perceiving themselves as righteous and moral. Once one feels immune to moral allegations concerning wrongs done by his in-group to the out-group, he does not need to feel “collective guilt” which is considered “an important element in the reconciliation process” (Miron and Branscombe 2008, 79–80), and, consequently, does not make any effort toward reconciling with the out-group. Paradoxically, therefore, individualization of the conflict reduces rather than enhances the chances for real reconciliation. 3. The third technique consists of differentiating epistemologically between “historical truth” and “falsified narratives.” Those who use this technique tend to distinguish between “our story,” which is the truthful and accurate version of what “really” happened, and the other side’s story which is a distorted and biased account which serves its propaganda aims. The use of this technique hampers the development of a common view of the past deemed by many reconciliation scholars as necessary for reconciliation (e.g., Bar-Tal and Bennink 2004; Cobb 2003; Dwyer 1999; Kelman 2004; Kriesberg 1998; Staub 2006). Exercising these three techniques helps those who do so to seemingly desire reconciliation with the Palestinians, yet avoid making real efforts toward attaining this aim, while at the same time, keeping their moral integrity intact and sense of dignity unharmed. In this respect, the attitude of Rabbi Yosef is of particular importance. Undoubtedly, the rabbi was an “epistemic authority” for a significant number of people, mainly, but not exclusively, voters for the Shas party. Hundreds of thousands of religiously Orthodox people, particularly, but again not exclusively, of Mizrachi origin, listened carefully to what he had to say, both in matters of religious law or in politics. That an authority of this stature expressed such a lack of interest in reconciliation with the Palestinians bodes ominously for the chances of reconciliation. 13 Lack of Trust as a Barrier to Reconciliation … 253 On the other hand, one should keep in mind that this seemingly “hard liner” has, according to his spokesman, David Glass, expressed readiness to give up the “Holy Basin” (the area of the Temple Mount, the Mount of Olives, Mount Zion and a variety of holy sites in Jerusalem) for the sake of peace. This might indicate that one can be at the same time in favor of peace and conflict resolution but against reconciliation. The implication may be that realistically oriented “reconciliation avoiders” such as Rabbi Yosef may be in a better position to affect the peace process more positively than idealistically inclined “reconciliation pursuers.” As long as no political settlement has been reached, it may be premature and perhaps even hazardous to promote reconciliation. The interviews demonstrated, by and large, the utility of the main research tool, namely the questionnaire built on the Reconciliation Pyramid. The model provides a benchmark for assessing the perceptions and attitudes of our interlocutors regarding the process of reconciliation between Israelis and Palestinians. It enabled us to discern nuanced differences among the interviewees with regard to their readiness to climb the Reconciliation Pyramid. The contours of the map of positions reflected in the answers are very clear: the respondents expressed, to a greater or lesser extent, pessimism regarding reconciliation prospects with the Palestinians. Almost all of them stressed that the gap of distrust is too deep to be bridged by confidence-building gestures such as suggested by the Reconciliation Pyramid. Despite some significant differences between them, brought about through the diverse ways of relating to the seven steps suggested by the Pyramid, the similarity in attitudes, especially the gloomy mood reflected in their answers, is the one most conspicuous finding of this study. What may be the reasons for this ominous stance? One major reason is the absence of many of the factors mentioned by reconciliation scholars (most particularly, Bar-Tal 2011 and Kelman 2004) as preconditions for reconciliation in intractable conflicts. It seems, however, that one of the main barriers to reconciliation lies in an inherent human need to be a rational and, at the same time, and even more important, a virtuous human being. That is why so many of the respondents utilized the three techniques: value neutralization; object de-collectivization and epistemological differentiation. The use of these techniques helped them to see themselves morally untarnished, both as individuals and as members of the Jewish collective that is still fighting for its survival. Having solved the dissonance between their apparent wish for peace and reconciliation with the Palestinians and their reluctance to take genuine steps toward reaching this lofty goal they could more easily adhere to their unshakeable narratives and metanarratives and reject those of the “enemy.” When elite members, who can be seen as “epistemic authorities” for quite a few sectors of the public, employ these techniques, genuine reconciliation becomes not so much an achievable vision and seems more and more as an unrealizable dream. 254 Y. Auerbach Concluding Remarks This study has presented the answers given by 20 Jewish elite members in Israel to a half-structured questionnaire built on the Reconciliation Pyramid (Auerbach 2009). The interviews were quite disenchanting in terms of prospects for reconciliation between the two quarrelling sides. The reason given by almost all interviewees for their refusal to take the reconciliation steps was lack of trust in the Palestinians and fear that the latters would use these steps to extort concessions and enhance their political position. However, there were some promising signs, which should not be undervalued. With the exception of Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, who was more interested in preserving Jewish life than in reconciliation, everybody expressed their wish for it. All the respondents were acquainted with the other’s narratives and metanarrative and not few of them were ready to acknowledge parts of the Palestinian metanarratives. They all showed empathy toward the Palestinians as individuals and were ready to take responsibility, but not guilt, for harm done to them, to offer reparations or even suggest apology to individual Palestinians. After so many years of bloodshed and suffering, I could not detect, even among the more extreme “reconciliation avoiders,” evidence of hatred, a wish for revenge, dehumanization, or any of the other negative feelings one might usually expect to find in such circumstances. What comes to the fore is great distrust and profound distress due to the perception of many of the respondents that the “other” is bound to its “falsified” metanarrative that does not recognize the authentic national identity of the people of Israel and its legitimate rights in the Land of Israel. The fact that almost all of the respondents were ready to acknowledge the Palestinian identity and to recognize it as a national entity takes the sting out of the “identity” aspect of the conflict. This can be seen as a first, albeit modest step in the long way toward reconciliation. Appendix 1: The Questionnaire 1. To what extent are you familiar with the other’s versions (“national meta narratives”) of the conflict regarding his and yours A. collective identity: As a nation, religion, ethnic group. B. right to and sovereignty on the disputed territory. C. identity of main victim in this conflict. 2. To what extent are you familiar with the other’s versions (“national narratives”) regarding core issues of the conflict such as the 1948, 1967, 1973 wars; the refugee problem; the Intifada, etc. 3. To what extent do you accept as true/authentic his above-mentioned versions of the conflict? 13 Lack of Trust as a Barrier to Reconciliation … 255 4. To what extent are you ready to take full or partial responsibility for the other’s suffering? 5. To what extent does the other deserve reparations or restitution of any sort? 6. To what extent are you ready to feel empathy with the other’s suffering and express remorse regarding your wrongdoing in the conflict? 7. To what extent are you ready that your leadership issues a public declaration whereby he apologizes to the other? 8. Do you believe that it is worthwhile and/or possible to integrate the conflicting narratives into one shared account of the conflict? 9. Do you believe that the above-mentioned steps (1–9) will promote genuine reconciliation? Appendix 2 List of interviewees by main categories of elite groups Name Year of birth 1938 Elite group Gender Achi-Meir Ya’akov Amir Eli Beer Hayim Dekel Yaron Eitan Rafi Gal-On Zahava Golan Galia Guri Hayim Hanin Zeév Herzog Mike Klein Menachem Lau Benny Margi Yaakov Meged Eyal Meridor Dan Place of birth Israel Journalist Male Iraq Israel Israel Israel Lithuania Ohio, US Israel Ukraine Israel Israel Israel Morocco Israel Israel 1937 1945 1964 1926 1956 Male Male Male Male Female Female Male Male Male Male Male Male Male Male Peretz Amir Shai Nachman Sheleg Bambi Sheleg Yair Yosef Ovadia Morocco Israel Chile Israel Iraq Author Author and academic Journalist High ranking official Knesset member Academic Author Academic and high ranking official High ranking official Academic Rabbi Minister (at the time of the interview) Author Knesset member (at the time of the interview) Knesset member Knesset member Journalist Journalist and academic Rabbi 1923 1959 1962 1951 1961 1960 1948 1947 1952 1946 1964 1920–2014 Male Male Female Male Male 256 Y. 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Richter (Ed.), Legitimation and stability of political systems: The contribution of national narratives (pp. 47–63). Oisterwijk: Wolf Legal Publisher. Worthington, E. L. (2006). Forgiveness and reconciliation: Theory and application. New York: Routledge. Chapter 14 Historical Narratives and the Issue of Trust Asher Susser The Unbridgeable Narratives and Their Political Impact The intensity and duration of the Palestinian–Israeli conflict have created a profound sense of hostility and distrust on both sides, exacerbated further by perceptions of historical victimhood and righteousness that both Israelis and Palestinians believe with great passion. An unbridgeable abyss separates the Arab Palestinian and Zionist historical narratives. Zionism, in the widely held Jewish perspective, is a heroic project of national revival and restored dignity and self-respect. Jewish national liberation, statehood, and sovereignty are the epitomes of defiance and self-defense against the horrific historical fate of the Jewish people. Israel’s foundation in 1948, therefore, was an achievement of historical justice for the most oppressed of all peoples. The Jewish people, in their greatest victory in 2000 years, had literally risen from the ashes of horrendous destruction to victory and political independence within just 3 years, as described in the Israeli narrative as the revolutionary transition “from Shoah to revival” (mi-Shoah le-tequma). For the Palestinians the complete opposite is true. The narratives do not just differ. They are absolutely and irreconcilably opposed to one another. Zionism, in the Palestinian view, is not about self-defense or justice. It is all about net aggression from the first Jewish settlement in Palestine, but especially as of the 1917 Balfour Declaration and the British Mandate established after World War I, against the wishes of the local Arab population. The memory of the Palestinian Nakba or catastrophic defeat at the hands of the Israelis in 1948, the loss of their homeland, their dispersal and refugeedom are at the core of the Palestinian collective identity and their self-perception of victimhood. This is the Palestinian formative collective experience and the very essence of Palestinianness. Aptly put A. Susser (&) Tel Aviv University (TAU), Tel Aviv-Yafo, Israel e-mail: susser@post.tau.ac.il © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_14 259 260 A. Susser by the American-Palestinian historian, Beshara Doumani: The “shared memories of the traumatic uprooting of their society and the experiences of being dispossessed, displaced, and stateless” were to “come to define” Palestinianness (Doumani 2007, 52). Palestinianness carries within it a profound sense of historical injustice into which the Palestinian people were born. For the Palestinians, therefore, the independence of Israel is their disaster “yawm istiqlaliqum yawm nakbatina” (Rekhess 2002, 26–32). The Palestinians yearn to turn the clock of history back and reverse the tragic consequences of Israel’s creation in 1948 and its expansion in 1967. Israelis, therefore, live in a world of perpetual uncertainty concerning long-term Arab objectives. Do the Arabs intend to put an end to Israel’s occupation of Arab territories in the war of 1967, or do they still really aspire to put an end to Israel? Israelis are not sure of Arab intensions and are forever preoccupied or even obsessed with security, checkpoints, fences, “iron domes”, and occupation and even a nuclear option. For the Arabs this only means more Israeli aggressive hegemonic design that provokes Arab distrust of Israeli intentions and discourages any serious thought or discussion of genuine reconciliation or normalization. The Palestinians argue that Israeli security requirements in the West Bank are actually part of an inbred occupation mentality (“aqliyyat al-ihtilal”) of the Israelis, rather than a real defensive need. The Arab unwillingness to normalize with Israel, in turn, only serves to reinforce Israeli insecurity, and thus the security/hegemony vicious circle of distrust is perpetually set in place. The Divergent Contours of the Arab–Israeli and the Palestinian–Israeli Conflict The conflicts between Israel and the Arab states and between Israel and the Palestinians differ in their fundamentals. In the conflict with the Arab states the issues on the table relate to the conquests made by Israel in 1967. On the basis of UN Security Council Resolution 242 from November 1967 the Arab states that had lost territory in the war with Israel—Egypt, Syria, and Jordan—were entitled to retrieve their territory in exchange for peace with Israel, that is, the “land for peace” formula. Indeed, Egypt and Jordan (after the kingdom disengaged from the West Bank in 1988) made their peace with Israel on that basis and Israel and Syria were very close to doing the same in the mid-1990s. Both in theory and in practice the Arab states that border on Israel, ever since 1967, have made demands on Israel that relate solely to the “1967 file”, that is, to Israel’s territorial expansion in 1967 and not to Israel’s existence, as of 1948. The Palestinian–Israeli dimension of the conflict is very different. Here there are clearly two sets of issues: the 1967 file, which includes matters relating to the 1967 Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, such as settlements, borders, and Jerusalem. Then there is the 1948 file in which there are two critical questions 14 Historical Narratives and the Issue of Trust 261 raised by the Palestinians in the name of historical justice, both of which go beyond the 1967 occupation. Moreover, these questions relate to the very existential core of Israel’s being as the nation state of the Jewish people. One is the issue of the “right of return” of the 1948 refugees and their descendants to their original homes that are now situated in what has become Israel. The other is the rejection of Israel’s definition as the nation state of the Jewish people, which many of Israel’s Palestinian citizens strongly resent as exclusionary, denying them full equality. Both of these positions are seen by most Israeli Jews as designed to undermine their national ethos and their inherent right to self-determination in a state of their own, the raison d’etre of over a century of struggle since the beginning of the Zionist movement in the late nineteenth century. From the Palestinian point of view SC Resolution 242 of November 1967 was inherently deficient. The Palestinians and Palestine are not mentioned in the resolution. The resolution was intended as a basis for negotiations between Israel and the Arab states from which Israel had occupied territory in the war of June that year. The Palestinians, not yet recognized as autonomous players in the conflict, were not even referred to in the rather minimalistic reference to a just resolution of the refugee question. Indeed the resolution was designed to deal with the 1967 file as part of the interstate conflict between Israel and the neighboring Arab states, whereby the Palestinian dimension was to be dealt with in Israel’s negotiations with Jordan. Resolution 242 was not about 1948. It therefore took many years for the PLO to accept the resolution and it never really did so fully and unequivocally. The resolution was eventually accepted by the Palestine National Council, the PLO’s quasi-parliamentary body, only in 1988, and even then the acceptance had various caveats and reservations. The Oslo Accords were based specifically on Resolution 242. What one could call “the Oslo dynamic” seemed to be narrowing the Palestinian issue down to the 1967 dimensions of the West Bank and Gaza. The Palestinian Authority (PA) established under the auspices of the Oslo Accords essentially inherited the PLO though formally the PLO continued to exist as the supreme Palestinian political authority, though virtually an empty shell. The PA had two important elected institutions, the Presidency and the Legislative Assembly. Both of these were elected solely by the people of the West Bank and Gaza, and thus, as opposed to the PLO that represented all Palestinians everywhere, in Palestine and in the diaspora, the PA only represented the people of the West Bank and Gaza. The limited representation institutionalized the process whereby the question of Palestine was being reduced to the two-state dimensions of the West Bank and Gaza, placing the issue of the diaspora and refugee return very much on the political backburner, or at least so it seemed from the Israeli perspective. Moreover, it was on the basis of this understanding that the Israelis sought a formal trade-off to end the conflict. Israel would make what it believed were generous concessions on territory, settlements, and Jerusalem, the key components of the 1967 file, in exchange for closure of the 1948 file. This meant that the Palestinians would rescind their demand for refugee return to Israel proper, and instead would have refugees return to the future state of Palestine, or resettled in 262 A. Susser third countries. However, this trade-off never materialized. The Camp David summit convened by US President Clinton in the summer of 2000 to achieve an agreement on this basis ended in failure. The Failure of Camp David The negotiations between Israel and the PA that began in July 2000 at Camp David and continued at various venues ended in January 2001 at Taba in Egypt. Despite the second Intifada that raged in the West Bank and Gaza from the end of September 2000, the Israelis and the Palestinians continued to negotiate, but agreement remained elusive. There was progress on some issues and profound disagreement on others. In territory Israel started with an offer to withdraw from some 80 % of the West Bank and Gaza which was increased by the last round of the negotiations to over 90 %, with land swaps to compensate for some of the rest (Susser 2012, 45–55). On Jerusalem the parties agreed in principle to divide the city on an ethnic basis, which meant that Jewish residential areas, including those established after 1967, would remain part of Israel’s capital. Arab residential areas would become part of the future capital of Palestine. Deep differences remained on the issue of sovereignty over Temple Mount/al-Haram al-Sharif. The Palestinians demanded that the area be solely under Palestinian sovereignty, a demand that Israel would not accept, considering that Temple Mount was the most important of holy sites to the Jewish people. Various formulae for sharing sovereignty were not accepted by the parties either. On the question of the Palestinian refugees’ “right of return” no real progress was made at all throughout the negotiations. At the root of the discord were the different points of departure of the parties concerned, as clearly reflected in the divergent perceptions of the territorial issue. Israel proposed what it believed to be a generous compromise, offering more than any government had done before. The rejection of the offer by the Palestinians as insufficient was seen by the Israelis as a rigid “all or nothing approach.” But the Palestinians argued that Israel already possessed 78 percent of historical Palestine, that is, post-1948 Israel. All that was being negotiated now were the mere 22 percent that remained, and on that, the Palestinians contended, they would not and could not compromise. For the Israelis the starting part of the negotiation was in 1967, but for the Palestinians it was in 1948. Israel’s demand for finality on the basis of the 1967 issues was fundamentally unacceptable to the Palestinians, and as apparent as this was on territorial matters it was all the more so on the refugee question. The issue of Palestinian refugee return is governed by UN General Assembly Resolution 194 of December 1948. As for the Palestinians, the resolution is interpreted as confirming the unequivocal and absolute right of the refugees to return to their original homes and properties. Israel has never interpreted the resolution as conferring such an absolute “right of return” 14 Historical Narratives and the Issue of Trust 263 and demands that it reserve its own sovereign right to determine who does or does not enter its territory. Essentially Israel seeks to include or contain the refugee question and Resolution 194 within the framework of Resolution 242, that is, within the territorial limits of the West Bank and Gaza, or the 1967 file. According to Israeli logic, refugee return ought to be to the future state of Palestine and not to Israel. But for the Palestinians refugee return according to Resolution 194 had to be added to Resolution 242 and not contained within it, which meant refugee return to Israel proper and not to the West Bank and Gaza. The refugee question could not therefore be subsumed in the 1967 file. It belonged in the 1948 file and had to be treated accordingly. This did not mean that the Palestinians realistically expected or demanded that millions of refugees inundate Israel. But to obtain some sense of justice there had to be an element of refugee return to Israel proper. The number, to be agreed, also had to be large enough to allow the Palestinian refugees a real freedom of choice. The Israelis, so the Palestinians argued, were solely responsible for the creation of the refugee problem in the first place and it could not therefore be the Israelis to decide who would return. Israel had to recognize the principle of the “right of return” and accept individual free Palestinian choice on the implementation of this right. In the “Clinton parameters” of December 2000, in which the US president summed up his understanding of the contours of a possible settlement between Israel and the Palestinians, his proposal on the refugees demonstrated a clear preference for refugee return to the future state of Palestine rather than to Israel proper. It was that part of the parameters that was most scathingly criticized by the Palestinian leadership, focusing their complaint especially on the denial of Palestinian freedom of choice in this regard.1 For the Israelis the right of refugee return was seen as a form of subversion of the very raison d’etre of Israel as the nation state of the Jewish people. As relations between the Jewish majority and the Palestinian Arab minority in Israel deteriorated, especially following the unprecedented riots in various parts of the country in solidarity with the Second Intifada in October 2000, the idea of anything more than a symbolic return of refugees became ever more unacceptable to the great majority of Israelis. The Refugee Conundrum and Trust Israel, as already noted, sought finality or “end of conflict” on the basis of a solution to the 1967 questions. But by demanding a formal “end of conflict”, Israel had contributed inadvertently to the resurfacing of the 1948 questions and to the introduction of the core historical narratives of the parties into the heart of the 1 Mulahazat wa-as’ila Filastiniyya hawla al-afkar al-Amrikiyya [Palestinian Remarks and Questions on the American Ideas], text as in al-Ayyam, January 2, 2001. 264 A. Susser negotiating process. One could hardly negotiate “the end of conflict” without finding a satisfactory solution for its beginning, and for the Palestinians that could not mean anything other than 1948, the Nakba, displacement and return. The Israelis finally understood that there was no simple trade-off of 1948 for 1967. Finality would have to mean satisfaction for the Palestinians not only on the 1967 questions, but also on some significant element of 1948. Indeed 1948 and refugee return was very much on the Palestinian agenda, as a matter of principle. If it appeared initially that the Oslo dynamic was shifting the 1948 questions onto the diplomatic backburner, after the collapse of Camp David that was no longer true. The Oslo dynamic was gradually but consistently being reversed as 1948 regained increasing prominence in the Palestinian national discourse. This was evident in various key Palestinian documents that have been formulated and published in recent years. In the summer of 2006, leading Palestinian figures, who were imprisoned at the time in Israeli jails, representing Fatah, Hamas, and other key factions drew up the “Document of National Reconciliation” (wathiqat al-wifaq al-watani), commonly known as “The Prisoners Document”. It reiterated the inalienable “right of return” as enshrined in Resolution 194 and urged the international community to implement the resolution that called for refugee “return and compensation”.2 It is important to note the emphasis not on return or compensation but on return and compensation, even though Resolution 194 specifically speaks of compensation only for “those choosing not to return”.3 The Political Program of the Hamas-led National Unity Government established in March 2007 similarly emphasized the centrality of the “right of return” of the refugees “to their land and property that they had left [that is, to nowhere except Israel proper] and for their [receipt of] compensation.” The statement also made a reference to the need for any agreement reached by the PLO with Israel to be brought before the entire Palestinian people “inside and outside [of Palestine]” for approval, thereby further reasserting the centrality of the Diaspora constituency, in contrast to the earlier Oslo dynamic that focused on the West Bank and Gaza.4 The above documents were resolutions based on intra-Palestinian agreement that included Hamas. But even Fatah, when left on its own was no different on this matter. In August 2009, Fatah held its sixth conference and the political program of the conference was similarly emphatic about “return and compensation” and the rejection of resettlement (tawtin) as a possible alternative to return. Moreover, the program stressed the need to maintain the ties of the national movement with the 2 Document of National Reconciliation (wathiqat al-wifaq al-watani) June 28, 2006, www. falasteen.com/article. 3 UNGA Resolution 194 as in Zittrain Eisenberg and Caplan, 2010, Appendix B-Documents on line, Document No. 10. http://naip-documents.blogspot.com/. 4 Political Program of Haniyya Government (barnamij hukumat ra’is al-wuzara’ al-mukallaf Isma’il Haniyya), March 17, 2007, www.al-jazeera.net/News. 14 Historical Narratives and the Issue of Trust 265 Diaspora and the Palestinians in “the lands of 1948” [that is, Israel], thereby presenting a nationalist vision that went far beyond the West Bank and Gaza.5 Even the Arab Peace Initiative (API) of March 2002, as reaffirmed by the Arab League Summit in March 2007, had a problematic reference to the refugee question from the Israeli point of view. The Summit reaffirmed its commitment to comprehensive peace with Israel based on a withdrawal to the 1967 borders, as well as its commitment to “a just and agreed solution to the Palestinian refugee problem.” This was to be “in accordance with UN Resolution 194 of 1948, while rejecting all forms of resettlement (tawtin)”6 On the one hand, the suggestion of an “agreed solution” was conciliatory toward Israel, but on the other, the rejection of “all forms of resettlement” left return to Israel proper as virtually the only option, and that could hardly be the basis for an agreement with Israel.7 There can be no question as to the salience and preeminence of the “right of return” in the Palestinian national narrative and current discourse. The consequent difficulty for the Palestinian leadership to formally concede on this issue is seemingly insurmountable. At the same time, however, serious scholarly research also shows that there is a perceptible gap between positions of principle and how the refugees actually relate to the matter in practical terms. Amongst the refugees there is a discernible conflict of interest between “nationalist orthodoxies” and “local material concerns”. While there is a genuine rhetorical, emotional, and ideological commitment to the “right of return” by Palestinians generally speaking and by the refugees in particular, the passage of time, the passing of the Nakba generation, and the simple exigencies of daily life have all taken their toll on ideological commitments. The “extremity of circumstances” forces the refugees “to adjust their aspirations and renounce certain closely held beliefs.” Scholars have tended to avoid the question of what it meant for the generations born in exile “to return to a place they never left.” In reality there was a “growing gap between the maximalist positions… and the pragmatism of refugees, who often distinguish between a symbolic recognition of the right of return and its actual implementation” (Allan 2014 2, 5, 202). Even so, it is extremely unlikely that the Israelis will be persuaded, on an issue that they regard as existential, to accept any formula that rests on guesswork on the probabilities of actual refugee return. They would rather depend on their decision 5 Fatah Sixth General Conference Political Program (al-barnamij al-siyasi liharakat al-tahrir alwatani, “Fath”), August 2009, www.fatehconf.ps. 6 Al-Sharq al-Awsat, March 29, 2007. 7 At the conclusion of the March 2002 Arab Summit, along with the Arab Peace Initiative, the routine summit “Final Statement” (al-bayan al-hitami) was also published. On the refugees, under the heading “The Right of Return” (haqq al-awda) it stated as follows: “The [Arab] leaders regard Israel as bearing full legal responsibility for the existence of the Palestinian refugee problem and for their expulsion (tahjirihim) and they [the Arab leaders] emphasize their complete rejection of the plans for solutions, schemes and attempts that aim to resettle them (tawtinihim) outside of their [original] homes (kharij diyarihim).” (Al-Nahar, March 29, 2002). 266 A. Susser and their complete control of the entry of refugees, if any at all, to Israel proper in the framework of a future agreement. The Mutually Intrusive Perceptions of Two States Both the Israelis and the Palestinians accept the principle of two states for the two peoples. In practice, however, the respective positions that the players actually hold on the two-state solution are incompatible. Their perceptions of statehood conflict with the complete sovereignty of the neighboring state, as their respective conceptions of statehood protrude into the territory of their next-door neighbors. The PLO accepted partition and the two-state idea a quarter of a century ago in 1988, in its Declaration of Independence. But this acceptance of partition was rather convoluted and anything but wholehearted. According to the declaration, the partition resolution of 1947 “despite the historical injustice” inherent in it, “resulting in the dispersal [of the Palestinian people] and depriving them of their right to self-determination”, did nevertheless provide international legitimacy for Palestinian “sovereignty and national independence”.8 It is especially worthy of note that partition does not satisfy Palestinian rights to self-determination, but only to sovereignty and independence. Self-determination in PLO parlance is equated solely with statehood in all of Palestine and partition is described as a denial of this right, according to the text of this very same declaration. Two states, therefore, as a neat division and clear act of finality were not acceptable without some element of correction of the historical injustice inherent in partition itself, thus the continued demand for some measure of refugee return to Israel proper. The Palestinian intrusion into Israel with refugees is for the Israelis a defiance of the basic logic of two states. For Israel, acquiescence in a Palestinian state was at least partly due to the expectation that the future state of Palestine would be the home of the refugees who sought return. It made no sense to the Israelis for a Palestinian state to be established, and then for the Palestinian refugees to return to Israel rather than to Palestine. But, as the Palestinians from Mahmud Abbas down would explain, the 1948 refugees all originally came from places that had become part of Israel. None of them were from the West Bank and Gaza.9 Indeed many of them presently lived in camps in the occupied territories. It made no sense to them to speak of “return” to where they already were or to places from which they had not come originally. As already noted, the Palestinian discourse of recent years of Fatah and Hamas alike has flatly rejected any form of refugee resettlement (tawtin) as part of the solution. 8 Declaration of Independence (wathiqat i’lan al-istiqlal) November 15, 1988, www.fatehmedia. net/ar/m-t-f. 9 Mahmud Abbas in interview in al-Hayat, November 23–24, 2000, and in al-Ayyam, July 28–29, 2001. 14 Historical Narratives and the Issue of Trust 267 Even in the unofficial Geneva accords between moderate Israelis and Palestinians achieved in 2003, there was no mutually acceptable resolution of this refugee conundrum. Israel has countered with demands both on narrative and security. In the narrative domain Israel has demanded, in various formulations, since shortly after the failure of the Camp David negotiations that the Palestinians recognize Israel as the nation state of the Jewish people. Realizing that there could not be a simple trade-off between the 1967 and the 1948 questions, the Israelis sought a cast iron barrier between the two in the form of a Palestinian declaration that would essentially mean that refugees would not return to Israel. For the Palestinians such a declaration was tantamount to an abandonment of the fundamentals of their historical narrative. Recognizing Israel as the nation state of the Jews could be construed to mean Palestinian acceptance of the fact that most, or all, of Palestine was indeed historically Jewish. Needless to say, the Palestinian leadership across the board refused. It was most unlikely that the Palestinians would ever do so, any more than the Zionists would recognize that Eretz Yisrael was historically Arab. Another reason for the Palestinian rejection of the Israeli demand was related to the Palestinian Arab minority in Israel. The Palestinians believed that if they recognized Israel as Jewish they might be undermining the civil rights of their Palestinian brethren, who were citizens of Israel, by playing into the hands of some on the far right in Israel, who actively sought to disenfranchise the Arab minority. Another issue where historical narratives, rights, and heritage impeded the negotiations and eroded mutual trust was the fate of Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Temple Mount, al-Haram al-Sharif, for the Muslims was the third holiest place to Islam after Mecca and Medina, and the place from whence Muhammad, the Prophet ascended to heaven. For the Jews it was the holiest of holy places, the site of the remains of the destroyed Second Temple. The Israelis would not accept that the Mount be placed entirely under Muslim sovereignty, and the Palestinians would accept no less. The Israelis demanded control and access to the underground archaeological remains of the Second Temple, which the Palestinians feared would be exploited by Israel to undermine the foundations of the Muslim holy places above ground. The Israelis, for their part, suspected that if the Jews were denied access and control of the archaeological resources the Muslims would gradually remove every remnant of the Jewish past from Temple Mount. Agreement on Temple Mount, like on refugees, remained elusive as narrative, history and heritage were increasingly dragged into the negotiation. The last round of serious Israeli–Palestinian negotiations took place between Prime Minister Ehud Olmert and President Mahmud Abbas in late 2007 and during 2008. Significantly progress was made on the territorial issues of 1967 but not on the 1948 questions. If anything, positions on refugees were hardening and being driven further apart. On refugees, Olmert proposed that 5000 refugees be allowed to return to Israel over 5 years, that is, 1000 a year for 5 years (Susser 2012, 66). In the negotiations, behind closed doors, the Palestinians suggested that 100,000 refugees (10,000 a year for 10 years) or 150,000 (15,000 a year for 10 years) be allowed to 268 A. Susser enter Israel, that is, 20–30 times more than Olmert’s modest suggestion. However, when these numbers were leaked eventually to the media by The Guardian/alJazeera revelations in early 2011 they were widely condemned amongst Palestinians as a sellout. They were then hurriedly and emphatically denied by the Palestinian negotiators, who claimed that no ceiling on refugee return had really been discussed (Susser 2012, 66–67). If the Palestinian perception of statehood intruded into Israel through refugee return, the Israeli intrusion into the prospective state of Palestine came through a variety of security arrangements that the Israelis deemed to be vital. If a formal “end of conflict” agreement remained elusive the Israelis could never rid themselves entirely of the apprehension that the West Bank might be transformed into an aggressive platform for future attack against Israel. Israel therefore demanded not only that Palestine be demilitarized or nonmilitarized, a demand the Palestinians were willing to discuss, but also that Israeli forces maintain certain security zones in the Palestinian state, especially along the Jordan Valley, that Israel remain in control of the West Bank’s air space as well as the border crossings from Jordan. It was against these demands that the Palestinians lodged their complaint about Israel’s “occupation mentality”. Conclusion Discordant historical narratives are at the root of profound and mutual Israeli– Palestinian distrust. The profound underlying distrust between the parties gave birth to the governing principle of their negotiations that “nothing was agreed until everything was agreed.” Both Israelis and Palestinians favored this principle, albeit for conflicting reasons. The Palestinians were driven by the fear of an interim arrangement, in which only some issues would be agreed. Their concern was that such an arrangement would allow the Israelis to indefinitely postpone negotiations of the outstanding issues, leaving the Palestinians stranded in a temporary arrangement, which in practice would become final, without ever satisfying their national agenda. If the Palestinians feared that “interim” would become “final”, the Israelis feared that “final” might become “interim”. The Israelis were concerned about giving away territorial assets for nothing tangible in return. They were troubled by the thought that the Palestinians would “pocket” Israeli concessions without really ending the conflict, and that the territories Israel withdrew from would soon become hostile bases of aggression or subversion, converting a future “final” agreement into a temporary one used to undermine Israel rather than to keep the peace with it. Though it was not difficult to explain the reasoning behind the rule that “nothing was agreed until everything was agreed” the principle had a debilitating effect on the negotiations. Since agreeing on everything was virtually impossible, the negotiators were indeed left with nothing, unable to make any real progress on the 14 Historical Narratives and the Issue of Trust 269 ground until all issues had been finally agreed. And that was not about to happen any time soon. Initial distrust gave rise to principles of negotiation which unintentionally deepened distrust even further. Distrust also led to the dragging of the historical narratives into the negotiations especially by the Israelis seeking reassurance from the Palestinians on the 1948 file. Israel’s demands for declarations of finality or for recognition of Israel’s Jewishness were motivated by the fear of the Israelis that refugee return would subvert Israel’s being as the nation state of the Jews. But however one may understand and appreciate the Israeli motivation for these demands they could not possibly be met by the Palestinians without rewriting their historical narrative. They, nor anyone else, could not or should not be expected to do so, and thus dragging the narratives into the negotiation only made matters infinitely worse. Palestinian unwillingness to concede on narrative left key Israeli demands unmet and only reinforced Israeli reluctance to make concessions of substance to the Palestinians. Distrust begets more distrust. The respective demands that go unmet add fuel to the fire, propelling a vicious cycle of disagreement and further distrust, and so on and so forth, with no end in sight. References Allan, D. (2014). Refugees of the revolution: Experiences of Palestinian exile. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Doumani, B. (2007). Palestine versus the Palestinians? The iron laws and ironies of a people denied. Journal of Palestine Studies, 36(4), 49–64. Rekhess, E. (2002). The Arabs of Israel after Oslo: Localization of the national struggle. Israel Studies, 7(3), 1–44. Susser, A. (2012). Israel, Jordan and Palestine: The two-State imperative. Waltham, MA: Brandeis University Press. Zittrain Eisenberg, L., & Caplan, N. (2010). Negotiating Arab-Israeli peace: Patterns, problems, possibilities. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. Chapter 15 Trust and Confidence Building in the Israeli–Palestinian Peace Negotiations Walid Salem Theoretical Introduction There is an immense literature on trust and confidence building in general, and in particular in conflict resolution, where the main questions can be summarized as follows: What is trust? Is trust a social value? Or is it based on what we expect from the others? What are the intangible and the tangible aspects of trust? Is trust general or is it provisional and situational? What is the relationship between trust and the quality/the composition of the social capital? What is the relationship between trust and interest? Where do these two concepts converge and where do they diverge? What is the impact of different contexts on trust? How is it represented in the premodern, modern, and postmodern societies? What is the impact of globalization on trust? Is trust represented as a precondition for an active interaction between the citizens and the state in a democracy? Or is distrust/distrust the necessary factor for the emergence of the protests and lobby movements that ignite the evolution of more deliberative, discursive, and participatory forms of democracy? Also, what is the impact of conflict on it? Do the conflicting parties interact with each other based on trust, or because of the absence of trust? Do they need trust in order to solve the conflict, or would a common and emerging interest be enough for that? Paper presented to Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace Research International conference on the Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution (8–9 January 2014). W. Salem (&) Al Quds University, Jerusalem, Israel e-mail: walidsociety@gmail.com © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_15 271 272 W. Salem Finally, in a conflict situation: is trust a precondition for a solution of a conflict, or is it its result? In more specific terms: when a group of people occupies the land of other people, what comes first: trust? Or the end of occupation and then trust coming as a result of that ending? Why we trust? Is our trust based on our expectations, vulnerabilities, or interests? Do we seek trust when the situation is calm and everything is going well? Or do we look for it only when a conflict situation emerges? Alternatively, can issues be solved on the basis of interests rather than of trust? Who we trust? Do we trust everybody, including those whom we do not know? Or do we only trust those who we feel would be better at taking our needs, interests, concerns, and positions into account when they make a decision or take action? Do we trust others forever and wherever, or do we trust some particular person on a particular issue? Is trust possible only between individuals and small groups, or is it also possible between two nations? In conflicting situations do we need trust between the people involved in the conflict as precondition to solve it, or will trust (or the development of common interest) between the negotiators be enough to get to the solution? What about the roles/added/no added value in building trust of track two, track one and a half?, track three, and the citizens multi-track-diplomacy that all include participants from the conflicting parties who work together, with the participation most of the time of a third party? Also, what is the role of the third party in creating the level of trust that is necessary/unnecessary to get to the agreement between the conflicting parties and to implement it? When do we trust? Do we trust always, in specific situations, or according to circumstance? How we trust? How is trust practiced and expressed in all levels: individual, small groups, and collectively? What is the relationship between self-trust and trust of the others in practice? What kind of trust comes first and should our main focus be on the relational, structural, or transactional trust? Where maintaining relations being the focus at first, building trustworthy structure, at the second, and focussing on provisional and situational trust performance through certain reciprocal actions in a specific issue, place, and time, at the third? In conflict situations, should the focus be on creating trustworthy relations between the negotiators in order to reach an agreement? Are these trust relations powerful enough to bridge the gap between the parties on the essential issues of disagreement? Alternatively, should the focus be on creating trustworthy structures and processes for the negotiations and for the implementation of the resulting agreements? Will such structure and processes hopefully reflect on the relations between negotiators, and on their way of dealing with conflicting issues? They would also be instrumental in the creation of a better opportunity for solutions? Should these structures be combined with a transactional process of trust that includes messages to the other side? 15 Trust and Confidence Building in the Israeli–Palestinian … 273 These are more or less the main questions that the literature about trust addresses. Besides them the classical definitions of trust links it to our expectations from the others. In this regard, Oxford dictionary defines trust to be “confidence, or reliance on so quality, or attribute of a person, or the truth of a statement,” while Miriam Webster online dictionary defines it as “assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something,” and finally the Miriam Webster Thesaurus defines it as “firm belief in the integrity, ability, effectiveness, or genuineness of someone or something.” While these definitions are generally relevant to the trust that emerges between people in normal life, but still they cannot work as definitions of how trust act in conflicting situations. These definitions are also about relational trust, while in conflicting situation the Fukuyama and the structuralists focus on structural trust might be more relevant. Further than that, the most recent writings moved the discussion about trust from the abstract value based approach, to become a one that focuses on the concrete role of trust in social life. For instance, Anthony Giddens focused in his book “The Consequences of modernity,” on the role of trust in the modern society, which in his opinion includes both trust and risk, opportunities, and risks. On the other hand, Russell Hardin defined trust in concrete terms as the “rational expectation about the self-interested behavior,” referring by this to the one expectation from a certain other (and not the others as a whole), to include the one self-interests in the latter’s interests, divisions, and positions (Hardin 2002). At a later stage Hardin in a joint book with other two scholars, argued that trust is not a necessary precondition for cooperation, and that the mutual interest created a lot of successful cooperation without trust between the partners. They also argued that the society can function well in the absence of trust, and that trust is not a necessary factor for the citizens and state relations in a democracy (Cook et al. 2005). In his lecture during the Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace and Research Conference on “the role of trust in conflict resolution” in January 2014, Shlomo Avineri argued that the peaceful coexistence between the USA and the Soviet Union was agreed upon in the 1960s based on mutual interests rather than trust. On the other hand, the Israeli–Egyptian negotiations in the 1970s and 1980s included verification procedures because of the absence of trust, which did not prevent the possibility of getting to an agreement between Egypt and Israel. It is the absence of trust that can move the conflicting parties to an agreement in some cases rather than trust. The parties’ motivation in this case might be specific of common interests, short-term or long-term interests, or the so-called “hurting stalemate.” Moreover, the weaker side might be obliged to go for a certain agreement that does not express their interest, due to the balance of power at a certain period of time. Since Confidence building measures (CBMs) were an important part of the Israeli–Palestinian negotiations, it might be important to allude briefly to the literature about them and their relation to trust, and also to some previous international CBMs experiences. 274 W. Salem CBMs can be perceived as trust building in action. In other words, they are perceived as the supporting processes that can assist to build the “blocks of trust” between the conflicting parties, this building process is perceived as gradual and accumulated process, which includes the so-called “good will gestures” such as prisoners release and lifting checkpoints or closures, the verification methods, arms control, security cooperation, and keeping the security forces of a certain country in the land of the other country for a certain agreed upon time. CBMs then can be understood as aiming to overcome the suspicions in order to cooperate, and create an atmosphere that is conducive to peace (Magen and Shapiro 2003). As such CBMs can create the ground for the emergence of trust between the parties in later stages, but also it might be used in order to satisfy the concerns of conflicting parties who have deep distrust of each other. The successful process of creating the EU as a peace project is an example of the first, while the CBMs were used in the Israeli–Palestinian negotiations according to the second. In the context of the Cold War between the Soviet Union and the West, different CBMs methods were created such as GRIT (Graduated Reciprocation in Tension Reduction), Tit for Tat, Reciprocal Unilateral Measures (RUMs), and Detente. The Helsinki process accompanied and used these CBMs and others. Finally in this regard it is worth mentioning the 1990s Middle East Working Group of Arms Control and Security Cooperation (ACRS), opposite to the successful Helsinki process, ACRS did not work due to the existence of a conflict over territory between the Arab Countries and Israel. Then while the Helsinki process emerged with its CBMs between countries who reached a balance in the military power, the CBMs of ACRS did not work due to the controversy between the Arabs and Israel on what comes first: security cooperation or the Israeli withdrawal from the Arab and the Palestinian 1967 occupied territories. Israel sought peace that will come at the expense of withdrawal, while the Arabs and the Palestinians sought Israeli withdrawal as a necessary perquisite for peace and normal relations. Trust and CBMs in the Israeli–Palestinian Negotiations: An Overall Review Neither trust, Nor CBMs can produce peace by themselves. The assumption is still that both can help to create the conditions that are conducive to move to peace. Was this the case in the Israeli–Palestinian negotiations? The main argument of this paper is that trust and the CBMs were used in the Israeli–Palestinian gradual incremental negotiations that started in Washington in 1990, as a tool in the hands of the stronger party in order to impose conflict management in the framework of preserving the occupation as an alternative to conflict resolution. During the 25 years of negotiations since then, the context for solving the Israeli–Palestinian conflict emphasized three issues: the first is the issue of 15 Trust and Confidence Building in the Israeli–Palestinian … 275 self-determination for the Palestinians of the West Bank, East Jerusalem and Gaza Strip. The second is the issue of the right of return of the Palestinian refugees of 1948 living in the West Bank, Gaza Strip, East Jerusalem, the diaspora, and inside Israel (the unrecognized villages, and the internally displaced Palestinians). Third: the issue of Civil rights of the Palestinian citizens in Israel including their right to bring back their relatives who are staying abroad as 1948 refugees. As a starting point for the negotiations, the third issue was deleted from the beginning from the agenda of the negotiations, and hence dealing with the Palestinian citizens of Israel was considered an internal Israeli issue. Despite that, this third issue has a strong link with the second about the right of return. Then the second issue was postponed to the permanent status negotiations that were supposed to be finished by 1999 according to the agreement between the two sides, and finally the issue of self-determination was excluded to the West Bank and Gaza, while Jerusalem was excluded from the self-determination territory by postponing its issue to the permanent status negotiations. Moreover, the 1967 displaced persons (IDPs) issue was left to a Quartet committee of Egypt, Jordan, Israel, and the Palestinian Authority to deal with, up until it was fully frozen at the end of 1996 due to the committee’s disagreement over the definition of who is the 1967 IDP, and the number of those. The self-determination issue witnessed later on other setbacks with the settlements expansion in the Palestinian Territories leading to the creation of growing number of facts on the ground in area C of the West Bank, which compose two thirds of total size of the West Bank. This has led to the exclusion of the de facto self-determination to 36 % of the West Bank, in addition to the 360 square kilometers of Gaza Strip that are also disconnected from the West Bank, while Jerusalem on its part is out of the self-determination territory. Despite the postponement of the permanent status issues, and the nature of the 1993 Declaration of Principles (Known as Oslo agreement), President Yasser Arafat had faith in the process by then. He had confidence that the international community will appreciate the painful concession that he made by recognizing Israel over 78 % of the historical territory of Palestine, and will give the Palestinians their independent State over the remaining 22 %. He also respected the late Israeli Prime Minister Izhak Rabin and addressed him as “my partner in the peace of the Braves,” and “my friend.” It was one of the ironies of the Israeli–Palestinian peace process that it succeeded at creating friendship and trustworthy relationships between the leaders and the negotiators from both sides, while at the same time, the trust and the friendships developed did not get them to the point of being able to overcome their crucial disagreements regarding the permanent status issues, during Tami Steinmetz Center previously mentioned conference, the former Israeli negotiator Mr. Yossi Beilin went even further; mentioning examples on how the negotiators from both sides supported each other in order to overcome the difficulties that each faced on their side in a way that prevented the progress in the negotiations. While relational trust was created, structural one was not found. 276 W. Salem The structure of the process as described above is one that cannot be trustworthy. In its different stages starting from Oslo 1 of 1993–1994 to Oslo 2 (1995–2000), followed by Camp David 2000 and then the Performance based Road Map of 2003, and thereafter by the Unilateralism of 2005–2007, in addition to the Annapolis process of 2007–2008, and then the different attempts that lasted for few months each, which the last of was Kerry’s Initiative of 2013–2014. In all of these stages, the process kept “incrementalizing,” reaching at the end a point where the process became a process for itself, rather than being a process aimed at getting to peace. This nature of the untrustworthy process, worked against the trust that the negotiators from both sides enjoyed with each other, two stages can be foreseen in this relationship between the relational trust and the structural trust in the Israeli– Palestinian negotiations. In the first stage of 1993–1999 the relational trust between the negotiators worked well against the untrustworthy process that existed. The hope among the negotiators was that their relational trust that they accumulated will be able at the end to overcome the deficits in the process. Later on however, the Palestinians in specific lost their faith in the other side starting from 1999 when a peace agreement was not achieved; due to the other side’s unwillingness to give the minimum requirements needed from the Palestinian perspective on the permanent status issue. Here in the end, the untrustworthy structure defeated the created relational trust, leading the Palestinians by then to discuss the creation of a Palestinian State unilaterally as they did in 1999, and thereafter a Palestinian Intifada erupted as a result of the failure of the Camp David negotiations of 2000. In all the post 2000 negotiations, the relational trust vanished, as did the Palestinians’ trust in the process itself, or at least—it diminished considerably. Following the last Kerry Initiative as an example one can see how extremely difficult it is for it to get started. The same can be said about the George Mitchell run talks of 2010–2011. The Palestinians as the weaker side in both cases, sought to get assurances in advance that the process will be successful and will lead to the promised results, and not just a public relations play of a process for the process itself. Versus the above, still some can argue that a structural process for trust creation accompanied the relational based peace negotiations, and that was expressed first in CBMs for prisoners release, lifting closures, several redeployments of the Israeli army outside the Palestinian residential areas, facilitating the access of goods and individuals between the West Bank and Gaza, allowing for worship in Jerusalem via Israeli permits, and other similar steps of CBMs. The second and the most important structural component, is the one allowing for building the institutions of the Palestinian State depending on international grants during the process of the negotiations. Fayyad Governments of 2007–2014 achievements are usually mentioned as an example of such structural success, which aimed at increasing the Palestinian people trust in the peace process and its ability to make them feel the fruits of it. In this regard, the structural trust building went very well during the period of 1994–1999. The wisdom by then was that as much as the Palestinians can succeed in providing Israel with security, as much as 15 Trust and Confidence Building in the Israeli–Palestinian … 277 they will enjoy donor-supported-processes of institutional and economic building, combined with gradual Israeli withdrawals; a formula that worked relatively well by then. After the eruption of the second Intifada in 2000 and its deterioration to violence, the international community made—as presented in the 2003 Road Map—the Israeli withdrawals conditional on the Palestinians success at the preservation of the Israeli security, dismantling the structures of terror, and building transparent institutions. This new position created anger and depression among the Palestinians; given that they believed that the Intifada and its violence were a response to the rejection of the Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak to get to an agreement with the Palestinians in Camp David. Therefore, they felt that the international community should first blame and punish the Israeli Government for this failure rather than blaming Arafat and the Palestinian leadership for it, and then punish all the Palestinians for their response to the failure, instead of trying to understand and then contain that response by providing the Palestinians with some results to be achieved through an international pressure on Israel. The Second Intifada marked the starting point for the failure of this process of structural trust building. Another attempt for this structural trust building was made by Salam Fayyad Governments based on the Annapolis process promise that a good Palestinian State Building achievement will be rewarded by giving the Palestinians an independent State. Salam Fayyad himself worked hard upon this assumption, the World Bank and the IMF made reports in 2011 that the Palestinians became ready for statehood based on Fayyad Government achievements, but the lack of the progress in the peace process put all these achievements in jeopardy. This signaled the end of the theory that building the Palestinian State structures through a bottom-up process will lead Israel to reciprocate by withdrawing, and therefore making the Palestinian state a fact on the ground. In fact, this conduct of building the structures of trust of the Palestinians in the process was accompanied by another structural trust building process toward the settlers by giving them all the grants and the facilities needed for settlement expansion, while the Palestinians were prohibited from building in area C and in East Jerusalem, and deprived the freedom of access between the West Bank, Gaza and East Jerusalem. These restrictions limited Fayyad Governments achievements at the end to 36 % of the West Bank of area A and area B, and to paying salaries to the Gazans, if the last is an achievement by any means. The structural trust building worked at the end then with the settlers, while the other with the Palestinians proved to be counterproductive, also its steps were mostly too little to make a change in contrast to the growing Israeli settlement project, and also too late. On the other hand, they played the role of making cosmetic improvements to the framework of sustaining the occupation and the conflict management at the expense of conflict resolution. Therefore, the relational trust negotiations were constructed accordingly in order to create personal relations with the Palestinian negotiators at the expense of solving the conflict. While the accompanying structural trust building through CBMs and the bottom-up state building reached a point of sustaining the autonomy that is 278 W. Salem limited to area A and partially to area B, thereby transforming the PLO and the PA from a political leadership that struggles for the emancipation of its people to a mere service provider that is fully dependent on the international funds, and the tax revenues that come via Israel. History/Lessons of the Peace Process in a Nutshell It has first created a gradual process to peace that was made open ended, therefore all the issues of the Palestinian state were left to negotiations to decide on, and since the negotiations were based on the controversial 242 UN resolution with its two French and British version, Israel used the version of it that speaks about withdrawal from Arab occupied “territories” rather than the one that speaks about “the territories” occupied in 1967. This opened the way to considering it as an “area under dispute,” whose fate will be decided in the permanent status negotiations, including dividing it between the two conflicting parties. Therefore the process started on a controversial basis, which immediately made it untrustworthy. It would be trustworthy then if it started as a process that is based on international law, and the complex of UN resolutions regarding the Palestinian problem. This untrustworthy start was based on the realism theory, which respects the existing power relations and therefore gives the stronger side the upper hand to decide everything in the negotiations instead of referring to international law as a reference to the solution. Second, the deficit in the references of the peace process led the negotiations to become focused on the type of the Palestinian state that Israelis can accept, and on the commitments of the Palestinians mainly their commitments toward the security of Israel without any guarantee that fulfilling these commitments—as Salam Fayyad did—will lead Israel to move forward with withdrawing. On the other hand, the Israeli version of the Palestinian state became smaller and smaller as time passed by, from its peak being consistent of 94 % of the West Bank as Olmert suggested in 2008, to a state in area A and area B with some minor additions from area C as was the case in the Israeli proposal of 2010 and after. This is of course while maintaining Jerusalem as the “United Capital of Israel.” The Israeli proposals for peace became by 2010 a complex of positions that can be summarized as: no return to any single Palestinian refugee to inside Israel, Jerusalem regarded as the united capital of Israel, the Jordan Valley as the Eastern Boarder to Israel, in addition to the annexation of the big settlement blocks in the West Bank to Israel, and the anti-peace proposal of keeping the division between the West Bank and Gaza as long as Hamas continues to rule Gaza. These positions express the consensus between the Zionist parties inclusive to the Labour Party. Meretz and the Arab Parties in Israel are those who disagree partially or fully with these almost-Israeli-consensus-points regarding peace with the Palestinians. According to the Palestinian leadership position, these consensus points in Israel 15 Trust and Confidence Building in the Israeli–Palestinian … 279 cannot represent the minimum basis accepted by the Palestinians for peace agreement with Israel. Third, the peace process required that the Palestinians take the responsibility of protecting not only the security of Israel, but also the security of the occupation, including the protection of the occupation’s soldiers, and the settlers. Besides that, Israel gave itself the right to judge if the Palestinians fulfilled their commitments in this regard or not, therefore Israel become the occupier and the Judge at the same time, putting the Palestinians under a continuous test of competency by Israel. Consequently, as a result of Israel’s claims of their failure, Israel would feel unobligated to fulfill its commitments; such as the three 1995 agreed upon redeployments, the 1995 agreement to release all the pre-Oslo prisoners, and the Road Map commitment to dismantle the settlement outposts and to freeze settlement expansion. These are just a few examples of some of the Israeli commitments that were not implemented. Fourth, another deficit in the process was that the 1967 borders were not agreed upon in advance, and thereby they could not be established as the basis of the negotiations. Again, the final borders between the two states of Palestine and Israel were considered to be the subject of the negotiations and the bargaining process between the two sides without any prior terms of reference, such as considering the 1967 borders as the basis for the negotiations. Fifth, when by 1999–2000, the contradiction between the untrustworthy process and the trust relations between the negotiators reached its end by the Palestinians losing faith in this type of peace process, the Palestinians stopped to be called as partners for peace, Arafat was called as a non-partner, and Barak disseminated the idea that there is no Palestinian partner for peace. In the same token, since 2014 similar Israeli propaganda has emerged against President Abu Mazen, considering him as a no-partner. Furthermore, Israel also started to search for an alternative to him who will be ready to accept the Israeli positions as they wish. Sixth, the sequence of the peace process add also to its untrustworthiness: from 1990 to 2000 the process was based on having a bilateral Israeli–Palestinian track that is supported by multilateral working groups on several issues, and also supported by incentives from the Arab countries to Israel leading to having three Arab Embassies in Tel Aviv for Mauritania, Egypt and Jordan, in addition to five representative offices of Morocco, Tunisia, Qatar, Oman, and the United Arab Emirates. The idea behind these Arab moves toward Israel was to give incentives of CBMs to Israel in order to move in the peace agreement with the Palestinians, but this did not work till Wye River Memorandum of 1998, when instead of implementing the Israeli commitments according to the previous agreements, a crucial change happened by considering the security responsibility to be a Palestinian duty. Moreover, Israel was in charge of supervising such responsibility, overseeing whether it was implemented or not by the Palestinians. Such state of affair conflicted with the previous formula of considering it as part of a reciprocal process of obligations implementation by both sides. This setback in the concept and the practice of CBMs was followed by the Israeli unilateral plan of 2005 for withdrawal from Gaza Strip and Jenin, which came as a 280 W. Salem result of considering them no-partner starting from 2000. This was a declaration of no trust whatsoever in the Palestinians by the Israeli Government. After the split of 2007 between Fateh and Hamas, the Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert put aside his plans for further unilateral steps in the West Bank which was called “the convergence,” or the “realignment,” and went back to work with the “moderate” Abu Mazen as a partner against the extremists of Hamas, resulting in holding Annapolis peace conference of 2007. This was followed with Jenin Pilot of 2008, and bilateral negotiations in two tracks one of Abu Mazen with Olmert, and the second of Abu Ala’a with Tzipi Livni. Since Hamas was considered an enemy till then, Olmert went to war against Gaza in the end of 2008 instead of going to Washington in January 2009; as it was planned in order to finalize the peace agreement with the Palestinian leadership. Again the idea of considering the peace process as an alliance with one Palestinian Party against the other cannot play the role of getting to a peace agreement, neither it is capable of creating trust with the Palestinian people. On the other hand, it is a recipe for going to war instead of making a peace agreement—as happened. Bypassing George Mitchell attempts of 2010 and 2011, and jumping to the last Kerry Initiative of 10 months from July 29, 2013 to April 28, 2014, one can see that this round started and continued with an Arab support to Mr. Kerry through their approval of it to start without an Israeli settlement freeze, also meeting Kerry 5 times by the Arab Peace Initiative Follow up committee. This was an Arab signal of their trust in Mr. Kerry, rather than a trust in Israeli. The rejection of Israel to freeze the settlements’ expansion, and the different declarations during the 10 months of negotiations about different settlement plans put the process in continuous trouble till it stopped after Israel rejected around the end of the 10 months period of the negotiations to release a group of pre-Oslo prisoners. Concluding Remarks It can be concluded then that the Israeli–Palestinian peace process needs a more trustworthy process rather than relational trust based negotiations. During the Israeli–Palestinian last 25 years of negotiations, the relational trust played in an asymmetric way for the benefits of the stronger side of the conflict. From a theoretical point of view, two approaches to conflict resolution justify the relational trust. One of them is the subjective approach of Herbert Kelman which requires bringing the two sides of the conflict together in order to express their pains and sufferings as prerequisite for the creation of the trust needed for conflict resolution. The second is the objective rational approach of Roger Fisher which while calling for interests-based negotiations still perceived them at the same time as an important component for creating trust between the negotiators. The name of his 15 Trust and Confidence Building in the Israeli–Palestinian … 281 joint book with Scott Brown is self-explanatory in this regard: “Getting to yes: Building relationship as we negotiate.” The theory is then that building relations either by pain sharing or by negotiating rationally, allows for the conflict resolution to become possible. On the other hand, in a protracted intractable conflict like the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, this theory of trustworthy relationship as a basis for conflict resolution proved to be over simplistic, because it ignores that the hard issues of territoriality (occupation in our case) and identity (the narratives and the refugees issue in our case), cannot be solved by merely relying on the creation of good and trustworthy relations. Furthermore, moving from theory to practice will provide with another criticism to the two approaches above. In practice, they ignore the balance of power that expresses itself in unbalanced power relations inside the negotiations room. Within the framework of these power relations, the relations created between the negotiators will be used by the stronger party in order to pressure the weaker party to make concessions and give up some of its essential rights: for instance in our case pressuring the weaker side to move from the historical concession of accepting the Palestinian State through Oslo to be created over 22 % of Palestine, and toward accepting less than 22 % through dividing those same 22 % between Palestine and Israel. Therefore, the building of relational trust played within the framework of the realism of Hans Morgenthau, which is based on the idea that power and interests determine the dominating policies. One will not need Foucault in order to find out the setbacks of such an approach. These setbacks are already self-explanatory in the Israeli–Palestinian negotiations were the Palestinian negotiators were put under a continuous test about their capability to preserve the Israeli security while they are under occupation, in addition to the continuous pressure on them to accept less and less. Based on that, Galia Golan advises by writing: “A case can nonetheless be made for the possibility that the two sides will opt for realism—leaving the issue of trust to a later stage—and adopt something quite close to the peace plans that have emerged.” (page 142). While Golan is calling for a kind of realism that is not based on the balance of power but more based on sharing rights and sharing territory, it is important to point out that her formula cannot work without the creation of a trustworthy process, such a process cannot be created without a structural trust building. Such a structural trust building can work out if the trustworthy process will include mechanisms that guarantee that the previous agreements will not only be respected, but further than that they will be implemented before and during the resumption of any new negotiations. To put it differently: while negotiating the permanent status issues, all the previous agreements such as freezing settlement expansion, dismantling the settlement outposts, reopening the Palestinian institutions in East Jerusalem, the three redeployments in the West Bank leading to the exclusion of the Israeli presence to the building areas of the settlements and to the military camps, to be conducted, and the free passage between the West Bank and Gaza to be created. Among other previously made commitments. If these steps will be made during the negotiations then the structure of peace will be created by erecting its facts on the ground leading to the creation of a public trust in the process, which brings them tangible results. 282 W. Salem Still the other component leading to the creation of structural trust, consists of the development of positions that will enable dividing Jerusalem as a capital for two states, accepting to solve the refugee problem based on the recognition of the right of return, then finding a formula for what I call “the fair distribution of justice.” Furthermore, agreed upon modifications to the 1967 borders should only be made for legitimate security reasons and for social reasons (such as uniting two parts of one village together). In addition, settlements and settlers should be evacuated, water sharing policies should be instituted, and different cooperation relations between the two states should be agreed upon. This is the second component for structural trust building. For it to work, Israel will need other two additional accompanying processes: one of them is a reconciliation process with its Palestinian citizens by recognizing their right to equality in all levels including their rights to bring back their relatives who live as refugees in the diaspora. The second is reconciling Israel position in the region by accepting the diversity component in the Israeli identity, leading Israel to accept the Arab component of its identity represented by the Arab Jews, without feeling that this contradicts with considering itself as part of the West. An Israeli official acceptance of the Arab Peace Initiative might be a starting point of this path. It looks to be a long way to go, opposite to the de facto annexation of area C and the De jure annexation of East Jerusalem, and the full denial of the refugee rights. Maybe the first starting point toward this path would a building of self-trust by Israel, which would take Israel beyond the role of the victim and the targeted mentality. Thereafter, this self-transformed Israel will become capable of trusting others and creating peace with them as well. The role of the third party and the civil society initiatives in creating the basis for this new structural trust building is crucial, but a subject that could be elaborated upon in a different paper. References Bland, B., Ross, L., & Salem, W. (2005/2006). Creating positive facts on the ground: A viable Palestinian state overview. Nevada Law Journal, 367–388. Cook, K. S., Hardin, R., & Levi, M. (2005). Cooperation without trust? New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Doyle, A. (2007). Trust, citizenship, and exclusion in the risk society. Retrieved from https:// fernwoodpublishing.ca/book/risk-and-trust Fisher, R., & Scott, B. (1988). Getting together: Building relations as we negotiate. New York: Penguin Books. Golan, G. (2007). Israel and Palestine: Peace plans from Oslo to disengagement. Princeton: Markus Wiener Publishers. Magen, A., & Shpiro, S. (2003). Towards a comprehensive security approach in the Middle East. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, The Tami Steinmtz Center for Peace Research. Tahiroglu, K. (n.d.). Overview on Anthony Giddens: The consequences of modernity and the constitution of society. Retrieved from http://mlab.taik.fi/can-go/essays/Giddens_overview.pdf Chapter 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict between Arabs and Jews in Israel Sammy Smooha Introduction Distrust is grounded in both history and contemporary contexts (Sztompka 1999, this volume). The relations between Jews and Arabs in the Land of Israel/Palestine are fraught with protracted distrust and imbedded in conditions conducive for deepening the discord between them. Distrust and conflict between Arabs and Jews have a history of more than a century. The dispute originated when the European Jewish settlers decided during the first decade of the twentieth century to build a separate Jewish society in Palestine instead of integrating in the existing Palestinian society. Disengagement implied transfer of land and other resources from the indigenous population to the new settlers, inescapably leading to reduction of Palestinian territory and sovereignty. The distrust was so profound that the Palestinians before 1948 did not even recognize the British Mandate, refused to take part in a joint advisory council, opposed the sale of lands to Jews, objected to Jewish immigration and demanded the immediate establishment of an Arab majority state in all of Palestine. There was This article is based on sections from the author’s Still Playing by the Rules: Index of Arab– Jewish Relations in Israel 2015 (Smooha 2017). The support for the Index over the years of The Alan B. Slifka Foundation, The Fohs Foundation, The Marc Rich Foundation for Education, Culture and Welfare, Israel Institute, The Pratt Foundation, PEF-Israel Endowment Funds, The Charles H. Revson Foundation, The Andrea and Charles Bronfman Philanthropies, The Naomi and Nehamiah Cohen Foundation, The Ford Foundation received through Israel Foundations Trustees, The Beracha Foundation, and Chen and Orni Petruschka, is greatly appreciated. The preparation of the article was made during the author’s term as Israel Institute Visiting Professor at New York University, made possible by the support of Israel Institute and the Taub Center for Israel Studies. Thanks for both institutions. S. Smooha (&) University of Haifa, Haifa, Israel e-mail: ssmooha@univ.haifa.ac.il © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_16 283 284 S. Smooha little cooperation between the two distrustful communities. In 1936–1939 the Palestinians revolted and in 1947 rejected the UN partition resolution, and together with Arab countries opened an all-out war against the Jews and the fledgling State of Israel. They lost the struggle, did not found a state of their own, three fifths of their people became refugees, and many of their villages and towns were destroyed. The Jews felt a threat to their physical and state survival. The peace with Egypt in 1979 and Jordan in 1994 put an end to the survival menace but in the absence of settlement of the Palestinian issue the Jews continued to feel intense threat. The 1967 war resulted in the occupation of the entire area of Palestine and the subjection of its Palestinian population to Israel. From the very start the Palestinians resisted occupation and felt embittered and hopeless with the gradual increase in the number of Jewish settlements and settlers in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. The first Intifada in 1987 was repressed but facilitated the Oslo Accords of 1993. The Oslo Accords drew Israel and the Palestinians nearer. The two sides recognized the right of self-determination of each other, accepted partition as a solution and agreed to have their differences be straightened up by negotiations and not violence. These accords gave hope to peace lovers but angered the skeptics on both sides. Among the Jews, the rightwing opposition charged that the agreement is illegitimate because it lacked the support of a majority of Jews and could not be ratified in the Knesset without the backing of Arab Knesset Members. It incited against the Labor government, blaming it of disloyalty and triggering Rabin’s assassination. The Palestinians were enraged by the failure of Rabin government to freeze or reduce Jewish settlements in the West Bank and Gaza. Terrorist actions against Jews went on and the new Palestinian Authority did not take firm steps to contain them. The Israeli government and the Palestinian Authority did not initiate confidence building measures and did not start talks for reaching permanent settlement. The deep distrust dividing the two sides did not stop (Kimmerling and Migdal 2003). The two decades since Netanyahu’s ascendance to power in 1996 consolidated Jewish-Palestinian distrust. Prime Minister Netanyahu retracted from the Oslo Accords. P.M. Barak failed in 2000 to reach a peace agreement with President Arafat in Camp David and blamed the Palestinians for not being a peace partner. The second Intifada was bloody and its harsh repression further deepened the mutual distrust. P.M. Sharon’s unilateral withdrawal from Gaza in 2005 unraveled the deep distrust. P.M. Olmert’s private peace talks with President Abu Mazen were not timely and led to nowhere. The 2013–2014 negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians were worthless because the Palestinians refused to recognize Israel as the state of the Jewish people and Israel declined to accept a Palestinian state with pre-1967 borders and land swaps. There has been no confidence between Arab and Jewish governing elites as well as between their constituents. The Arabs who remained in Israel after its proclamation in 1948 are a segment of the Palestinian people, sharing citizenship and life with Jews since then. The degree of distrust and intensity of the controversies on narratives and views of the 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 285 Palestinian question between them are part and parcel of the wider dispute between Israel and the Palestinians. These bones of contention will be examined by data from representative opinion surveys of Arabs and Jews, taken annually since 2003.1 Distrust In deeply divided societies, like Israel, there is a basic distrust between the minority on the one hand and the ruling majority and the state on the other. The minority does not have confidence in the intentions and actions of the majority and the state, while the latter doubt the minority’s loyalty to the state and its willingness to keep public order. Findings from the Index of Arab–Jewish Relations show a high level of distrust among both Arabs and Jews. In 2015 54.2 % of the Arabs felt that it is impossible to trust most Jews, and 41.8 % of the Jews felt that it is impossible to trust most Arab citizens; 57.5 % of the Arabs saw Zionist Israel as racist, and 66.5 % of the Jews regarded an Arab citizen potentially disloyal if he/she identifies as “a Palestinian-Arab in Israel” (Table 16.1). Distrust decreased over the years, however. For example, Jews who attribute potential disloyalty to an Arab citizen with a Palestinian identity went down from 75.6 % in 2003 to 66.5 % in 2015 but remains high. The distrust between the minority and majority in Israel, like in other deeply divided societies, is structural. In Israel it is fed by the Jewish-Zionist character of the state and by the conflict with the Palestinians, two key issues that cause considerable controversy and suspicion between Arabs and Jews. The state exempts Arabs from the draft and imposes surveillance over them in order to prevent damage to national security and public order, but by doing so it institutionalizes basic distrust between the two sides. The rates of distrust of Arabs and Jews in professional public institutions are low and similar. Overwhelming majorities on both sides have confidence in health services and institutions of higher education (Table 16.2). The Arabs’ distrust of medical services is especially low (15.6 % in 2015) because they receive good health care and enjoy over-representation in medical and para-medical occupations (Biranbaum-Carmeli 2010). The findings are taken from the Index of Arab–Jewish Relations in Israel. The Index measures the attitudes of Arabs and Jews toward each other and toward the state since 2003 and serves as a tool for finding out trends of change over time. It taps 16 key issues in minority–majority relations. The Arab survey is based on a representative national survey of 700 adult Arab citizens (including Druze and Bedouin), who are interviewed in a face-to-face interview in Arabic by a standard questionnaire. The Jewish survey is based on a representative national sample of 700 adult Jews (including new immigrants, settlers, and members of Kibbutzim and Moshavim), who are interviewed in a telephone interview in Hebrew and Russian by a standard questionnaire. The sampling error in each survey is 3.7 %. The data are gathered annually in the fall. 1 286 S. Smooha Table 16.1 Distrust of the other group, Arabs and Jews, 2003–2015 (percentages) Agree that it is impossible to trust most of the Jews/Arabs in Israel Agree that Israel as a Zionist state, in which Arabs and Jews live together, is racist Agree that an Arab citizen who defines oneself as “a Palestinian Arab in Israel” cannot be loyal to the state and to its laws Arabs 2003 2011 2012 2013 2015 Jews 2003 2011 2012 2013 2015 55.6 55.6 62.4 55.3 54.2 52.1 51.8 48.3 45.8 41.8 66.8 65.3 67.2 56.1 57.5 75.6 72.0 69.4 68.1 66.5 Table 16.2 Distrust of professional public institutions, Arabs and Jews, 2003–2015 (percentages) Arabs 2003 Health 6.7 services * Institutions of Higher Education * The question not asked ** 2008 2013 2015 Jews 2003 2008 2013 2015 10.7** 18.7 15.6 15.6 16.2** 18.1 23.0 33.9 25.8*** 20.8 * 17.9 12.1*** 21.1 In 2007 *** In 2012 Distrust of state institutions is greater. Professional state institutions like the courts and the Institute of Social Security suffer from less distrust than political institutions like the Knesset and state government. For instance, 37.9 % of the Arabs in 2015 do not trust the courts compared to 67.8 % who do not trust the state government; 38.1 and 55.7 % of the Jews, respectively (Table 16.3). Arab distrust of state institutions is greater than Jewish distrust: distrust of the police among Arabs in 2015 is 64.2 % compared to 51.9 % among Jews; 63.7 % of Arabs and 54.7 % of Jews distrust the Knesset; and 67.8 and 55.7 % distrust the state government. Furthermore, 59.8 % of the Arabs and 80.0 % of the Jews in 2015 do not trust Israeli Arab leaders (Table 16.4). 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 287 Table 16.3 Distrust of state institutions, Arabs and Jews, 2003–2015 (percentages) Arabs 2003 2008 2012 2013 2015 Jews 2003 Courts 27.5 34.6** * * 42.5 46.1 Institute of Social Security * Local 57.4 63.2 governments * Police 59.2 64.7 Knesset 58.3 62.7** 64.6 Government 71.5 70.0** 70.4 * The question not asked **In 2007 38.7 37.9 29.9 * * * * * * 64.2 63.7 67.8 66.3 73.1 2008 2012 2013 2015 41.1** 37.4 * 35.9 38.1 41.1 * * * 41.9 29.8 * * * 49.8 71.7** 72.9** 36.0 64.4 50.4 * 51.9 54.7 55.7 64.2 57.2 51.8 51.8 Table 16.4 Distrust of Arab leaders, Arabs and Jews, 2011–2015 (percentages) Do not have trust in Arab leaders in Israel Arabs 2011 2012 2013 2015 Jews 2011 2012 2013 2015 59.6 58.2 63.3 59.8 82.5 83.2 84.8 80.0 This serious lack of confidence discourages each side to take risk and to make concessions lest the other side would not keep any agreement reached or lest the other side misperceive the compromises as a weakness and exploit them. The trend of change in distrust among the Arabs is complex. Their distrust of Jews during the years 2003–2015 was stable (around 55 %) (Fig. 16.1), but their distrust of institutions was up (for example distrust of the courts increased from 27.5 % in 2003 to 37.9 % in 2015). On the other hand, Jewish distrust of Arabs went down from 52.1 % in 2003 to 41.8 % in 2015 but it rose in some institutions (e.g., in the courts—from 29.9 to 38.1 %) and did not change in others (e.g., in the state government—57.2 and 55.7 %). Narratives Collective memory is apparently the most divisive issue between Arabs and Jews, constantly nourishing the deep distrust between them. Arab citizens accept the Palestinian narrative of the Israeli–Arab conflict. Most of them regard Zionism as a racist and colonial movement and see the Jews as alien settlers who robbed the land from the Arabs (Table 16.5). Furthermore, 54.1 % of the Arabs in 2015 perceive the Jews as a kind of Crusaders who dominate the country but are doomed to leave and Palestine will revert to its original Palestinian owners. On the other hand, the 288 S. Smooha 70 60 62.4 55.6 50 57.3 54.8 55.6 55.3 54.2 56.4 52.1 51.8 40 45.3 48.3 45.8 Arabs 41.8 30 Jews 20 10 0 2003 2006 2009 2011 2012 2013 2015 Fig. 16.1 Belief in the impossibility to trust most Jewish/Arab citizens, Arabs and Jews, 2003-2015 (percentages) Table 16.5 Historical and national rights to the land, Arabs, 2007, 2012–2015 (percentages) Arabs 2007 Zionism is a colonial and racist movement The Jews are alien settlers who usurped the lands from the Arabs The Jews in Israel are foreign settlers who do not integrate into the region, will be doomed to leave, and the country will revert to the Palestinians * The question not asked **In 2010 ***In 2011 2012 2013 2015 85.3 75.7** 75.5 77.1 77.5 * * 62.5*** 57.0 47.3 54.1 * Table 16.6 Historical and national rights to the land, Jews, 2011–2015 (percentages) The Palestinians are Arabs who settled in the Land of Israel that belongs to the Jewish people The Palestinians lack national rights to the land because they are not its original inhabitants Jews 2011 2012 2013 2015 65.5 64.2 58.7 62.0 61.7 60.5 61.1 61.8 Jews embrace the Zionist narrative. Over three fifths (62.0 %) of them believe that the Palestinians are Arabs who settled the Land of Israel which belongs to the Jewish people; and over three fifths (61.8 %) also think that the Palestinians do not have national rights to the land because they are not its original residents (Table 16.6). As most Arab citizens deny Jews’ national rights and view themselves as the indigenous population, so the Jews deny the national rights of the Palestinians and view themselves as the indigenous population of the same area from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea. 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 289 Table 16.7 Blame for the conflict between the Palestinians and the Jews and for the Nakba, Arabs and Jews, 2003–2015 (percentages) Arabs * Jews 2003 2007 2012 2013 2015 2003 2007 2012 2013 2015 The Jews/Palestinians are the main guilty party for the protracted conflict between the Palestinians and Jews 61.1 72.0 77.2 64.8 68.2 64.8 63.9 68.6 59.6 72.2 The Jews/Palestinians are the main guilty party for the Nakba (disaster) that occurred to the Palestinians in 1948 65.3 80.1 82.2 69.3 70.5 65.0 62.2 61.6** * * The question not asked ** In 2008 The narrative of exclusive ownership of the land leads each side to accuse the other of the historical dispute between the Jews and the Palestinians and of the Nakba. A majority of 68.2 % of the Arabs in 2015 blames the Jews for the conflict with the Palestinians and 70.5 % for the Nakba; and a majority of 72.2 % of the Jews blames the Palestinians for the conflict and 61.6 % (in 2008) for the Nakba (Table 16.7). The Arab narrative of blaming the Jews for the conflict with the Palestinians and for the Nakba became increasingly harsher from 2003 to 2012 but a halt to its exacerbation was evident in 2013 and 2015. In contrast, the Jewish narrative of blaming the Palestinians has not changed over the years. The Palestinian Question Israel is a state that survives in a hostile environment and copes with multiple circles of dispute. The core of the century-old dispute is the conflict between the Jews and the Palestinians. In the London Conference of 1938 the dispute circle with the Arab world and later on the conflict with the Muslim world were added. Created by these disputes, the national Arab minority in Israel is part of the Palestinian people and the pan-Arab nation that do not have peace with Israel. As long as these disputes linger on, the State of Israel and the Jews would see the Arab citizens as part of an active enemy and suspect them of potential disloyalty. The Oslo Accords moved to the foreground the solution of two states to two peoples that since the 2000s has been accepted by the international community, a majority of Israeli Jews, a majority of Arabs in Israel, and a majority of Palestinians on the West Bank and Gaza Strip. In the 2015 Index an agreement was found between over seven tenths of the Arabs (71.1 %) and three-fifths of the Jews (60.0 %) on the division of the land into two states to two peoples (Table 16.8). While this principle of partition of the land is agreed upon, there is a hot 290 S. Smooha controversy on its implementation. In Jewish eyes this solution does not include Israel’s retreat to the pre-1967 borders, dismantlement of the Jewish settlements, division of Jerusalem, right of repatriation of the Arab refugees into Israel, and the formation of a Palestinian state that will be sovereign, armed, without Israeli troops on the Jordan Valley and with open borders with Israel. All these Israeli-Jewish don’ts are rejected by the Palestinians, including the Palestinian citizens of Israel.2 Close to three-fifths (57.3 %) of Arab citizens, compared to less than half (48.5 %) of Jews, will regard the resolution of these issues an end of the Israeli– Palestinian conflict and of the bilateral claims. These figures show that a final-status agreement between Israel and the Palestinians will leave quite few unsolved issues, a large number of skeptics and some spoiler groups. It will probably disregard the demands of the Palestinian citizens of Israel that will be discussed below. These lingering disagreements will perpetuate the distrust between Arabs and Jews and consolidate the status of the Arabs as a hostile minority in the eyes of the Jews and the state. Is the Hamas’ takeover of Gaza a bone of contention between Arabs and Jews in Israel? Israel’s policy is a total rejection of the Hamas, as evidenced in the nonrecognition of the Hamas regime in Gaza, imposition of a siege on Gaza and a launch of two wars on Gaza in reaction to Hamas shelling of Jewish localities in the Negev and beyond. A third of the Arabs (31.0 %) in 2011 justified Hamas attacks against Israel and over half (52.9 %) in 2012 supported the consolidation of Hamas power. In contrast, the Jews follow the Israeli government policy of rejection, so that only 19.5 % in 2011 agreed that Israel come to terms with Hamas (Table 16.9). A majority of 71.7 % of the Arabs in 2015 did not justify Israel’s launch of Operation Protective Edge of 2014 against the Hamas in Gaza as compared to 85.4 % of the Jews who justified the attack. The Jews also support Israel’s government policy to block unilateral Palestinian diplomatic initiatives toward the establishment of a Palestinian state. Despite the fact that 66.3 % of the Jews in 2011 supported the two-state solution, only 27.0 % of them (compared to 85.7 % of the Arabs) endorsed the Palestinian application to the UN to declare the formation of an independent state and only 26.9 % in 2012 agreed to the acceptance of Palestine as a nonmember observant state in the UN (Table 16.10). Since the Jews are the stronger party to the conflict, they are asked if they agree to take certain steps that would facilitate a negotiated solution to the Palestinian issue. On the positive side 56.6 % of the Jews in 2015 agree (and 39.9 % disagree) that Israel should take risks in order to obtain a settlement with the Palestinians, but on the negative side 79.7 % of the Jews agree (and only 18.1 % disagree) that recognition of Israel as the state of the Jewish people should be a condition for a final-status agreement (Table 16.11). 2 Only 38.2 % of the Arabs in Israel in 2015 support the Palestinian position of divided Jerusalem, thereby disputing the official stand of the Palestinian Authority and expressing a distinct interest of their own. This is because in a united Jerusalem only, they will enjoy full access to East Jerusalem and to the holy sites of Islam there. 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 291 Table 16.8 Solutions to the Palestinian question, Arabs, and Jews, 2003–2015 (percentages) Two states to two peoples The pre-1967 boundaries will be the boundaries between the two states with an option of land swaps Jerusalem will be divided into two separate cities, one Jewish and one Arab The Palestinian refugees will receive compensation and be allowed to return to the state of Palestine only Some of the Arab localities in the Triangle will be annexed to a Palestinian state The borders between Israel and the Palestinian state will be open borders After the full implementation of these principles, all the claims of both sides will end and the conflict between them will be over * The question not Arabs 2003 2007 2012 2013 2015 Jews 2003 2007 2012 2013 2015 88.8 83.8 68.7 63.7 71.3 71.3 70.4 66.7 61.5 60.0 82.0 79.4 62.7 51.2 60.6 44.2 43.1 43.2 40.3 40.3 61.0** 63.9 48.8 43.2 38.2 23.3** 26.1 21.4 22.6 20.2 72.2 60.7 46.8 47.5 53.3 62.6 59.7 47.1 48.2 43.8 16.7 15.7 22.8 26.6 24.6 45.3 40.1 39.4*** 40.4 40.5 76.2 79.1 73.1*** * * 30.6 * * * * 82.0 72.2 58.6 51.9 57.3 64.8 50.8 44.4 46.1 48.5 asked ** In 2004 *** In 2011 292 S. Smooha Table 16.9 Israel and Hamas, Arabs, and Jews, 2011–2015 (percentages) Arabs 2011 2012 Support the consolidation of the Hamas power in Gaza Strip The continued shelling of the localities in the Negev by Gaza Strip is justified Calm in the South will be achieved only by lifting the siege on Gaza and recognizing the Hamas government and reaching an agreement with it Israel’s launch of Operation Protective Edge is Justified Not justified Don’t know Jews 2012 2015 2015 52.9 31.0 19.5 85.4 10.5 4.3 27.4 71.7 0.9 Table 16.10 Israel and the formation of a Palestinian state, Arabs, and Jews, 2011–2012 (percentages) Israel should support the application to the UN to declare the formation of an independent Palestinian state Acceptance of Palestine as a nonmember observant state in the UN is a right step Arabs 2011 Jews 2011 85.7 27.0 2012 26.9 Table 16.11 Conditions conducive for the solution of the Palestinian question, Jews, 2015 (percentages) Jews 2015 Israel should take risks in order to reach a settlement with the Palestinians Agree Disagree Don’t know Recognition of Israel as the state of the Jewish people should be a condition for settlement with the Palestinians Agree Disagree Don’t know 56.6 39.9 3.5 79.7 18.1 2.2 The sharp disagreements on the implementation of the agreed upon two-state solution push both sides to a loss of belief in the feasibility of settlement. At the end of July 2013 peace negotiations began between Israel and the Palestinians with American mediation. In response to a question on these negotiations, a majority of 57.0 % of the Arabs in 2013 and a majority of 81.8 % of the Jews said that they do not believe in a permanent settlement (Table 16.12). Yet, in 2015 Arabs and Jews show less pessimism on the possibility that negotiations between Israel and the 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 293 Table 16.12 Belief that the negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians will lead to permanent settlement, Arabs and Jews, 2013, 2015 (percentages) Arabs 2013 Believe that negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians will lead to permanent settlement in the coming years Agree Tend to agree Tend to disagree Disagree Don’t know Believe that the negotiations underway between Israel and the Palestinians will lead to permanent settlement Definitely believe Believe Do not believe Definitely do not believe Don’t know 2015 Jews 2013 18.6 30.6 25.3 25.5 0.0 4.7 21.2 37.6 19.4 17.2 2015 26.3 11.5 10.9 47.2 4.0 2.1 13.5 35.3 46.5 2.7 Palestinians will lead to permanent settlement in the coming years—50.8 % and 58.1 % express disbelief in such development. About three-fifths (58.7 %) of the Arabs in 2015 justified an eruption of a Third Intifada by the Palestinians if the political stalemate continues (Table 16.13). When the internal differences in each side are scrutinized, appreciable similarity in attitudes and willingness to compromise are found between Arabs with a strong Israeli leaning and Jews with a dovish disposition. The stand on the conflict is tested by acceptance of pre-1967 boundaries with land swaps as the border between Israel and Palestine. This compromise, to which 60.6 % of the Arabs subscribe, is endorsed more by Arab population groups who support other compromises like 75.2 % of the Arabs who agree to restrict the repatriation of Palestinian refugees to Palestine only, and Arabs who recognize Israel’s right to exist (79.5 %). This compromise is also more acceptable to Arabs whose most important affiliation is Israeli citizenship rather than their religion and nation (74.2 %), their identity is Table 16.13 Justification of a Third Intifada, Arabs, 2012, 2013, 2015 (percentages) Arabs 2012 If it becomes clear that the UN declaration on a Palestinian state does not advance the Palestinian cause, it is justified that the Palestinians will open a Third Intifada It is justified that the Palestinians will open a Third Intifada if the political stalemate continues * The question not asked **In 2011 2013 2015 54.9** * * 58.6 48.6 58.7 294 S. Smooha primarily Israeli Arab (76.3 %), they feel closest to Jewish political parties (82.5 %) and voted for them in the Knesset election in 2015 (87.5 %), and they are, however, not religious (69.9 %). Many Arabs with this profile also hold opinions that are obnoxious in Jewish eyes. For instance, 59.2 % of Arabs who embrace the pre-1967 borders with land swaps regard Zionism as a racist and colonial movement. The stand that 40.5 % of the Jews who consent to the pre-1967 borders with land swaps is especially taken by those who believe that negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians will lead to permanent settlement in the coming years (59.1 %), who support the division of Jerusalem (87.9 %), and are politically located in the center (60.7 %), moderate left (83.1 %) and left (92.5 %). They are also more found among the secular (57.8 %), Jews with post-secondary or higher education (47.5 %), 56 years old and older (54.7 %), whose monthly family expenditure is above the average (56.0 %), their most important affiliation is Israeli citizenship (57.9 %), their identity is strictly or mainly Israeli (64.0 %), have Arab friends (55.2 %), have received help from Arabs (57.0 %), and have not encountered threats, humiliations or beatings from Arab citizens (49.6 %). Jews of this kind are, however, a minority in the Jewish population, and many of them hold attitudes that Arabs oppose. For example, 54.0 % of the Jews who agree to the pre-1967 borders with land swaps support the annexation of Arab villages and towns in the Triangle to a future Palestinian state, a plan that Arabs abhor. With regard to trends over time, there is toughening of Arab attitudes toward the Palestinian question as in other issues. Arab support for the solution of two states to two peoples went down from 88.8 % in 2003 to 71.3 % in 2015 (Fig. 16.2). This is also true for the agreement to the return of Arab refugees to Palestine only that dropped from 72.2 % to 53.3 %, respectively, and the consent to the end of conflict that decreased in these years from 82.0 % to 57.3 % (Table 16.8). 100 88.8 90 87.2 80 65 70 60 71.3 73.4 68.9 70.3 66.3 68.7 66.7 50 71.3 63.7 61.5 60 Arabs Jews 40 30 20 10 0 2003 2006 2009 2011 2012 2013 2015 Fig. 16.2 Support of the solution of two states to two peoples, Arabs and Jews, 2003-2015 (percentages) 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 295 Like the Arabs, the Jews in this period also lessened their support for a two state solution from 71.3 % in 2003 to 60.0 % in 2015; the support for the right of Arab refugees to return to Palestine only plummeted from 62.6 to 43.8 %; and the support for the end of conflict went down from 64.8% to 48.5 % (Table 16.8). It turns out that the political stalemate caused both sides to weaken their belief in the possibility to reach a permanent settlement. The Palestinian Question and the Arabs in Israel With regard to the dispute between Israel and the Palestinians, the Jewish establishment acts on a tacit assumption that the Arabs in Israel will not be part of the permanent settlement because as citizens they have to iron out their differences with the Israeli government. The negotiators of the permanent status agreement have a vested interest in disregarding the Arab minority in order to ease the achievement of a solution. This assumption is, nonetheless, challenged by all the three parties to the conflict—Israel, the Palestinian Authority and the Arab minority. The Israeli side presents two grave challenges that link the permanent settlement with the Arab minority. One is the demand of the Netanyahu’s rightwing government, posed in 2013, that the Palestinians recognize Israel as the homeland of the Jewish people. While this condition was dropped in 2015, it can be reinstated any time. One implication of this requirement is solidification of the Jewish-Zionist character of Israel that further downgrades the status of the Palestinian-Arab minority in the Jewish state. The other challenge was set up by Avigdor Lieberman, by then a Minister of Foreign Affairs and a leading rightwing figure, in his demand that the permanent settlement includes the ceding of the Triangle to a Palestinian state in order to reduce the number of Arabs in Israel’s citizen population. The Palestinian side acknowledged the domestic dimension of the conflict by rejecting the Israeli request to recognize Israel as the homeland of the Jewish people. One of the reasons for the rejection is response to the heavy pressure made by Israeli Arab leaders who fear that acceptance of Israel’s demand will damage the status of the Arab minority and harm its ongoing struggle to change Israel’s Jewish-Zionist character. The Palestinians themselves created a direct link between the conflict and the Arab minority by staking a claim that the list of Palestinian prisoners to be released in the fourth round in April 2014, as part of the negotiations on the permanent settlement of the Palestinian question, should include 14 national security prisoners who are Israeli Arab citizens. The Israeli government labeled this demand as an assault on its sovereignty in general and on its policy to deter Arab citizens from joining the Palestinian resistance movement in particular. At the end the negotiations exploded and the fourth round of prisoner release did not come about. Another digression from the disengagement policy from Arabs in Israel is the formation in 2012 of the PLO’s Interaction Committee with Israeli society. The Committee’s head, Mohammed al-Madani, established many contacts and dialogues with Israelis, brought groups to meetings with the Palestinian Authority’s 296 S. Smooha President, and attempted to prepare the ground to a new political party or list, Arab-Jewish, Mizrahi-Ashkenazi, that can appeal to rightwing voters to cross to the center-left bloc and achieve a changeover of governments. The Minister of Defense, Avigdor Leiberman, revoked al-Madani’s entry permit into Israel in June 2016, accusing him of subversive activities (Ragson 2016). Israeli Palestinian Arabs also deviate from the disconnection between them and the Palestinian question by their longing for a peace agreement that boosts their fight with the State of Israel. As Nakba victims the Palestinian-Arab citizens expect Israel to recognize the right of the internal refugees to reconstruct their destroyed villages, to pay them market-value compensations for the lands and assets expropriated from them, to return to them the Waqf endowed property and the Muslim control over it, to allow the rebuilding of ruined mosques and cemeteries, and the like. They also want to have the permanent agreement include cultural autonomy, allocation of proportional share of the state budget, power sharing, a proportional quota of Palestinian refugees, and additional regime changes that would blur the Jewish nature of the state and lead to binationalism in the future. As much as we can tell, these questions have not been discussed in the negotiations of the permanent agreement, but we know that both the Arab leadership and the Arab public in Israel have rejected the suggestion to annex Arab villages and towns in the Triangle to a future Palestinian state (Arieli and Schwartz 2006, Glazer 2014). In the 2012–2015 Indexes the Arabs were asked about their stand on a peace treaty that does not address their claims. An agreement that includes recognition of Israel as a Jewish state and insures full civil equality to Arabs wins the support of 58.4 % of Arab citizens in 2015, and an agreement that does not include remedy to the expropriated lands and to the problem of the internal refugees is accepted by 47.1 % of them (Table 16.14). These figures presumably show insufficient support for a peace agreement and reveal the divergence of interests between citizen and noncitizen Palestinians and the possibility that Arabs in Israel may become peace spoilers. Israeli Palestinian Arabs can hurt a peace treaty by having their Knesset Members vote against it, by abstention or casting a no vote in a referendum on settlement, or by opening a popular revolt that might exacerbate the Jews’ sense of threat and doubt about the agreement. It is true that as victims of the conflict with the Palestinians, the Arabs in Israel have a vested interest in peace even if it does not heed their grievances,3 but at the same time one cannot take for granted univocal support for a peace settlement on their part. They might be internally divided because of conflict of interest and might tip the balance against a peace treaty if the Jews will also split (Daniel Abraham Center 2011).4 3 Arab leaders and analysts argue that in any case Arab citizens will support a peace treaty with the Palestinians because they have an ultimate interest in the termination of occupation and in helping their people. None of the Arab political parties would ever dare calling on Arabs to withhold support from a peace agreement. 4 There is no discussion of the question whether Arabs in Israel will assist or obstruct the achievement of peace with the Palestinians. The discussion mainly hovers on the question whether 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 297 Table 16.14 Support of a peace treaty between Israel and the Palestinians that ignores the demands of Arabs in Israel, Arabs, 2012–2015 (percentages) Will support a peace treaty between Israel and the Palestinians even if it includes a recognition in Israel as a Jewish and democratic state but insures full civil equality for the Arabs Will support a peace treaty between Israel and the Palestinians even if it does not include a solution to the lands expropriated from Israeli Arab citizens and to the internal refugee problem Arabs 2012 2013 2015 52.6 58.4 58.4 34.8 42.3 47.1 Regional Disputes In addition to the conflict with the Palestinians, Arabs, and Jews in Israel are divided on other disputes in the region. In all Israel’s wars with the Arab world, Arab citizens have displayed a consistent pattern. They supported in their mind and heart the Arab and Muslim party to the conflict, but at same time abided by the law and public order and refrained from acting against the state (except of some who were involved for two years in Palestinian terrorism in the aftermath of the Six Day War and the two Intifadas).5 Arabs do not like the idea that Israel is or vying for a status of a regional superpower. For some Arabs it is important to have an Arab or Muslim force in the region, be it the PLO, Hamas, Hezbollah, Syria, or Iran, that can withstand what they see as strong and aggressive Israel. No wonder that in absolute contrast to the Jewish position, 49.6 % of the Arabs in 2015 supported “a strong power, Arab or Muslim that faces Israel and hurts it hard if this is necessary” and 58.1 % objected to actions by Israel to prevent Iran from replacing it as the strongest state in the region (Table 16.15). A majority of 62.8 % of Arabs welcomed the nuclear agreement between the superpowers and Iran. During 2011–2013 they were not supportive of Israel’s bombing of Iran’s nuclear installations when this option was on the international agenda. Only a minority of the Arabs (26.0 % in 2010), as compared to a majority of the Jews (57.5 % in 2011, 60.6 % in 2012 and 60.0 % in 2013), thought that Israel should exercise power in order to prevent Iran from developing a nuclear weapon if other states do not do so.6 A significant minority of (Footnote 4 continued) the settlement would reinforce their acceptance of the state or rather intensify their struggle to change its character. 5 Arab citizens’ attitudes and behavior during the Second Lebanon War are a case in point (Smooha 2009). 6 The fact that three fifths of the Jews thought that Israel should use force against Iran in spite of the sanctions imposed on Iran by the international community and in spite of the progress made in obtaining an agreement between the United States and Iran points to the Jews’ power-oriented approach. 298 S. Smooha Table 16.15 The need to resist Israel in the region, Arabs and Jews, 2011–2015 (percentages) Arabs 2011 As long as there is no peace between Israel and the Arab world, there should be a strong power, Arab or Muslim, that faces Israel and hurts it hard if this is necessary Disagree that Israel should act to prevent Iran from replacing it as the strongest state in the region Support the strengthening of the Hezbollah power against Israel If other countries would not 26.0** prevent Iran from developing nuclear weapon, Israel should do so by force Development of nuclear 42.0 weapon by Iran is justified Support the development of nuclear weapon by Iran I welcome the nuclear agreement between the superpowers and Iran * The question not asked**In 2010 2012 2013 2015 52.7 33.2 49.6 Jews 2011 2012 2013 57.5 60.6 60.0 58.1 53.7 * * * 36.7 28.1 62.8 36.7 % in 2012 and 28.1 % in 2013 of the Arabs supported the development of nuclear weapon by Iran despite the objections of Arab states and despite the fact that they personally may be hurt. These stances of Arabs in Israel resonate with a power perception according to which there is a need for a power in the region that can face offensive and domineering Israel and contain and weaken it.7 Arabs and Jews hold a different perspective on the so-called “Arab Spring”. From the Israeli government’s viewpoint, this historical awakening is “Arab Winter” that destabilizes Arab countries, facilitates the rise to power of Islamist movements and challenges the peace treaties between Israel and Egypt and Jordan. The view of these developments in the West is more favorable than it is in Israel because they invoke hopes for democratization and liberation of the Arab world from deep-seated passivity and victimhood. Yet, three years after it began in 2011, 7 Over half (53.7 %) of the Arabs in 2012 even lent support for strengthening Hezbollah against Israel, probably in order to stand up to Israel’s regional power. 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 299 the Arab Spring lost its momentum and popularity in the West and elsewhere because it was inflicted with violence and instability.8 A majority of Arabs in Israel during the years 2011–2013 related favorably to the mass protest wave in the Arab world and saw it as a historical breakthrough. This positive attitude to the Arab Spring is reflected in the 58.9 % of the Arabs in 2011 who welcomed the collapse of Mubarak regime in Egypt, and 59.4 % in 2013 who supported the ascendance to power of Islamic movements in several Arab countries, 44.6 % who objected to the military coup in Egypt, and 65.4 % who opposed the continued Assad regime in Syria (Table 16.16). By 2014 Arab enthusiasm had dissipated, however. In 2015 so many as 64.2 % of the Arabs say that when they see the unrest and instability in the Arab world since the beginning of the Arab Spring in 2011, they feel it is good that they live in Israel. They appreciate life in Israel that provides them wellbeing and stability that the Arab Spring has not delivered to the Arab world. Although 54.4 % of the Jews in 2011 shared with 74.7 % of the Arabs the expectation that the Arab Spring will democratize Arab political regimes, they are not really enthusiastic. Jews regard democratization in the Arab world as a double-edged sword in face of the Islamic movements seizing power through free elections in Gaza, Libya, Tunisia and Egypt. Only 8 % of the Jews in 2012 (as against 62.7 % of the Arabs) welcomed the ascendance to power of the Islamic movements, and only 18.2 % (58.9 % of Arabs) well received the downfall of Mubarak regime in Egypt that collaborated with Israel. Jews in Israel regard the Syrian regime as a central part of the axis of evil of Iran and Hezbollah and seek its breakdown. The stand of the Arabs in Israel is more complex. The 2011–2013 Index surveys show that around two-thirds of the Arabs were against Assad regime (Table 16.16). Yet, this objection must not be interpreted as support of the downfall of the Syrian regime but rather as a desire for a reform in the Syrian political system by democratization and inclusion of different ethnic communities in the national power structure. This is the position of Hadash, the Southern Faction of the Islamic Movement and many Arabs in Israel. Israeli Arab citizens and their leaders do not countenance the dictatorship of President Assad and his slaughter of his people, but rather would prefer a non-tyrannical Syrian regime that remains a partner in the resistance axis to Israel. For this reason the Arab leadership in Israel is silent, and only few Arab demonstrations were held in protest of the cruel repression of the opposition in Syria (Ghanem 2012). In 2015 Arabs were asked if they agree or disagree with the statement “ISIS is an extreme terrorist organization and I as an Arab feel ashamed of it”. An overwhelming majority of 82.4 % of the Arabs agreed, 16.9 % disagreed and 0.8 % did not answer (Table 16.17). The finding that as many as 16.9 % of Arabs disagreed with the statement is astonishing not only in light of the inhuman, terrorist, fundamentalist, and murderous character of this organization but also in light of the 8 The Economist (2014) expressed in a cover story this growing world disenchantment with the Arab Spring. 300 S. Smooha Table 16.16 The Arab Spring, Arabs and Jews, 2011–2015 (percentages) Arabs 2011 Israel should welcome the collapse of Mubarak regime in Egypt Expect development of democracy in Arab countries in which change of regime has recently taken place Support the ascendance to power of Islamic movements in several Arab countries after weighing the good and bad in their ascendance Support the ousting of the Muslim Brotherhood Movement from power in Egypt The struggle in Syria against Assad’s regime is justified Do not support continued Assad’s regime in Syria When I see the unrest and instability in the Arab world since the beginning of the Arab Spring in 2011, I feel it is good that I live in Israel 2012 2013 2015 Jews 2011 58.9 18.2 74.7 54.4 62.7 59.4 2012 8.0 44.6 64.5 71.4 65.4 64.2 Table 16.17 ISIS, Arabs, 2015 (percentages) Arabs 2015 ISIS is an extreme terrorist organization and I as an Arab feel ashamed of it Agree Tend to agree Tend to disagree Disagree Don’t know 57.3 25.1 11.3 5.6 0.8 wall-to-wall opposition to the Islamic State among the Arab leadership and community, including the northern branch of the Islamic Movement. Arabs who hold this exceptional stand of not opposing the Islamic State constitute 18.2 % of Muslims, 19.8 % of Muslims with higher education, 25.7 % of Muslims who deny Israel’s right to exist, 27.3 % of Muslims whose identity is Palestinian-Arab without any Israeli component, 28.1 % of Muslims who out of all political parties and movements identify most closely with the northern branch of the Islamic Movement, 29.2 % of Muslims who did not participate in the 2015 Knesset elections, 29.8 % of Muslims who are ready to move to a Palestinian state, and 38.2 % of Muslims who disagree that the chaos in the Arab world does not make them feel 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 301 good for living in Israel. These are Arabs who belong to a population group that holds a rejectionist outlook, expressing rejection of coexistence in a Jewish state, and by not opposing the Islamic State they register protest against their discrimination and exclusion in the State of Israel. They have fostered an atmosphere that has led scores of young Arabs from Israel to travel to Syria in order to fight alongside the Islamic State and other Islamist organizations. Regional Integration Although Israel, as a culture, a society and a state, is not solidly Western but has also significant non-Western components, Israelis are strongly inclined to the West (Tal 2013, Ohana 2011, Nocke 2009, Smooha 2005a). Despite their common attraction to the West, Arabs and Jews are still divided on the question if Israel should integrate into the Arab region or the West. All the Jewish population groups, including Mizrahim, the national-religious and the ultra-orthodox, are interested in Israel’s affinity with the West. From their perspective only by integration into the West a “tiny” Israel can keep its qualitative edge, a necessary condition for its continued survival in the “giant” surroundings of hostility. The West is also home for the overwhelming majority of Diaspora Jews, rich in resources, high in human development, democratic, and supporter of Israel. Furthermore, Israel does not have a real option to partner with the Middle East because it is considered a foreign and hated body in it. Yet, some Jews fear that too much absorption of Western patterns might diminish Israel’s national culture and uniqueness. Like the Jews, the Arabs in Israel also comprehend the advantages of close association with the West. At the same time they share the forces of resistance in the Arab world, which consider the West as an anti-Arab, imperialist and colonialist power that backs Israeli aggression, rejects the Islamic civilization and spreads secular, permissive and corrupt values. Hence the ambivalence the Arab citizens in Israel feel toward the West is much greater than the Jewish skepticism. Arab citizens are lured more to the region than Jews because they are more likely to benefit from integration into it thanks to their sharing of language, history, religion and kinship with its peoples. Peace and regional integration can also accord the Arab minority special benefits as mediators between Israel and its neighbors. Although the Arab or Muslim region can offer gains to Palestinian Arabs in Israel, its charm is reduced by the tyranny, poverty, class polarization, religious fundamentalism, repression of women, intolerance of the other, conservatism, and the post-2011 instability, that plaque it. The Israeli Arabs’ awareness of the underdevelopment of the Arab world and the advancement of their own Israelization process, that draw them closer to Israeli standards and Jews, cool their enthusiasm for incorporation into the Arab East. The public-leadership gap in stands on regional integration among the Arabs is striking. In contrast to the ambivalence of the Arab general public, the Arab 302 S. Smooha leadership unequivocally upholds integration into the Arab and Muslim region. This is a clearly ideological position that can be strengthened by pragmatic considerations. Although the nonreligious Arab leadership in Israel holds personally liberal outlooks and life styles and calls for a profound reform in Israeli Arab society (National Committee for the Heads of the Arab Local Authorities in Israel 2006), it holds a strong commitment to the Arab and Muslim world in defiance of the West. The 2004 Index findings provide rare evidence on the leadership-public gap in attitudes. This is the only Index that includes representative samples of two groups of Arab leaders and two groups of Jewish leaders in addition to representative samples of the Arab public and Jewish publics (Smooha 2005b). The Jewish survey findings show that both the leadership and public want Israel to integrate into the West. The stand “Israel should integrate into the Western world more than into the Arab and Muslim states in the region” was embraced by 71.9 % of Jewish rightwing leaders, 86.3 % of the Jewish rightwing public, 67.7 % of the Jewish leftwing leaders, and 78.7 % of the Jewish leftwing public. These figures point to a general Jewish consensus of leaders and rank and file, right and left, on integration into the West. In contrast, this stand was held by only 33.3 % of Arab leaders affiliated to the Jewish establishment and only by 10.2 % of mainstream Arab leaders who are not affiliated to the Jewish establishment, as compared to 54.3 % of Arab voters for Jewish political parties and 51.4 % of Arab voters to Arab political parties. It is clear that the Arab public is divided on the orientation to the West while its leadership sides with integration into the region. The gap between the Arab and Jewish public in support of regional integration has been evident in all the Index surveys since 2003. In 2015 60.6 % of the Jews, compared to 52.9 % of the Arabs, said that “Israel should integrate into the West and maintain only necessary relations with Arab countries” (Table 16.18). It is quite surprising that precisely on cultural integration, the Arabs favored the West: 62.0 % of the Arabs in 2015 and 58.9 % of the Jews agreed that “in the area of culture, Israel should integrate more into Europe-America than into the Middle East”. But this is an exception. In most questions and most years under investigation, it is found that the Arab minority is internally divided half and half while a decided majority of the Jews is in favor of integration into the West. Arab population groups that are more supportive of integration into the West, as measured by the statement “Israel should integrate into the West and maintain only necessary relations with Arab countries” (52.9 % of the Arabs agree), include Arabs who agree to the solution of two states to two peoples (60.8 %), Druze (67.3 %), Christians (61.5 %), Galilee Bedouin (76.7 %), Arabs whose identity is not Palestinian Israeli Arab (62.9 %), feel closest to Jewish political parties (70.0 %), and have not suffered from discrimination (60.3 %) and land expropriations (63.8 %). The ambivalence and internal rift on this issue is also manifest in the finding that there is no even one Arab group that unambiguously upholds integration into the region or separation from it. Even Arabs who feel closest to the Northern Faction of the Islamic Movement, the most radical group in the study, are 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 303 Table 16.18 Israel’s regional integration, Arabs and Jews, 2003–2015 (percentages) Arabs 2003 2008 * Israel should integrate into the West and maintain only necessary relations with Arab countries Israel should 47.0 integrate into the Western world more than into the Arab and Muslim states in the region In the area of 53.1 culture, Israel should integrate more into Europe-America than into the Middle East Israel has much to * learn from the West and only little from Arab countries * The question not asked Jews 2003 2012 2013 2015 2008 2012 2013 2015 46.8 46.8 48.2 52.9 * 60.6 63.4 60.1 60.6 44.4 49.7 45.2 59.6 76.3 * * * * 46.3 55.1 49.7 62.0 66.4 64.8 65.0 59.3 58.9 37.5 48.4 54.7 * * 54.2 55.1 * * divided on this matter like the wider Arab public (as many as 44.6 % of these Islamists are in favor of integration into the West). It would be wrong to interpret the support of about half of the Arab public for Israel’s integration into the West as disparagement of the Arab world and as a desire to disengage from it, but rather as yearning to a balanced integration in both the West and Middle East. The Arab leadership in Israel ideologically and unequivocally supports integration into the region, and on this count it diverges from the general Arab public whose stance is ambivalent and pragmatic. Jewish supporters of integration into the West are found more in rightwing population groups. While on the average 60.6 % of the Jews wish to be integrated into the West and hold minimal relations with Arab countries, Jews with stronger Western orientation include those who do their outmost to avoid contacts with Arabs (74.9 %), do not think that Arabs and Jews should create common values and customs in addition to their own (73.3 %), reject a two-state solution (73.4 %), are ultra-orthodox (81.7 %), national-religious, (71.3 %), traditional (73.9 %), 18– 21 years old (88.9 %), lack complete high school education (82.3 %), Mizrahim (71.0 %), interviewed in Russian (85.4 %), their most important affiliation is the Jewish people or Judaism and not Israeli citizenship (70.0 %), their identity is 304 70 S. Smooha 60.3 63.5 61.7 63.4 60.1 60.6 60 50 52.9 51.5 40 42.7 46.8 42.8 48.2 Arabs 30 Jews 20 10 0 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2015 Fig. 16.3 Israel should integrate into the west and maintain only necessary relations with Arab countries, Arabs and Jews, 2009-2015 (percentages) mainly or merely Jewish and not Israeli (73.7 %), belong to the moderate right (72.4 %) or to the right (79.3 %), do not have Arab friends (69.9 %), have never spent pastime with Arabs (75.3 %), have never received help from Arabs (70.7 %), and have suffered threats, insults or blows from Arab citizens (74.1 %). Although the majority of these Jews are relatively close to the Arabs in socioeconomic status, way of life, culture, religious tradition and historical heritage (centuries of life in Muslim lands), they are interested in separation from the region and in integration into the West more than other groups because they suspect of and dislike Muslims and Arabs. Yet, as right-wingers they also fear Americanization that threatens the cultural, Israeli and Jewish particularity, to which they are deeply committed, and hence their wish to integrate into the West should not be seen as definitive. During the research period, in the years 2003-2015, Arab and Jewish attitudes toward regional integration have not changed. The Arabs have remained divided whereas the Jews have continued to favor integration into the West (Table 16.18, Fig. 16.3). Distrust and the Palestinian Question There is a strong and positive correlation between trust and attitudes toward the Israeli–Arab conflict among both Arabs and Jews. For instance, among the Arabs 83.8 % of the trustful compared to 61.4 % of the distrustful agree to two-state solution and among the Jews 72.5 and 48.2 %, respectively (Table 16.19). The ratio of trustful to distrustful Arabs who view Israeli Jews as foreign settlers is 41.4–66.3 % and the ratio of Arabs who justify a Palestinian Intifada if the stalemate endures is 44.9–70.3 %. The ratio of trustful to distrustful Jews who see the Palestinians as lacking national rights to Palestine is 50.8–83.0 % and the ratio of Jews who think that Israel should integrate into the West and maintain only 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 305 Table 16.19 Trust and positions on the Israeli–Arab conflict, Arabs, and Jews, 2015 (percentages) The Jews in Israel are foreign settlers who do not integrate into the region, will be doomed to leave, and the country will revert to the Palestinians The Palestinians lack national rights to the land because they are not its original inhabitants Israel should take risks in order to reach a settlement with the Palestinians Believe that negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians will lead to permanent settlement in the coming years Two states to two peoples The Palestinian refugees will receive compensation and be allowed to return to the state of Palestine only It is justified that the Palestinians will open a Third Intifada if the political stalemate continues Will support a peace treaty between Israel and the Palestinians even if it does not include a solution to the lands expropriated from Israeli Arab citizens and to the internal refugee problem As long as there is no peace between Israel and the Arab world, there should be a strong power, Arab or Muslim, that faces Israel and hurts it hard if this is necessary When I see the unrest and instability in the Arab world since the beginning of the Arab Spring in 2011, I feel it is good that I live in Israel Israel should integrate into the West and maintain only necessary relations with Arab countries Arabs 2015 Trust 2015 Distrust 41.4 66.3 Jews 2015 Trust 2015 Distrust 50.8 83.0 71.9 42.1 56.8 47.2 47.4 30.8 83.8 64.8 61.4 43.7 72.5 50.7 48.2 43.2 44.9 70.3 64.2 33.2 40.4 57.1 77.8 53.7 60.0 48.1 55.7 77.7 necessary relations with Arab countries is 55.7–77.7 %. This correlation prevails in all the questions relevant to the Palestinian dispute presented above. It is not possible to infer from this correlation which is the cause and which is the effect. Distrust may cause hawkishness or the other way round. It is more likely that the two reinforce each other. If this is true, then trust building measures may make Arabs and Jews more susceptible to peace agreement. 306 S. Smooha Conclusions Suppose the Palestinian-Arab citizens of Israel authentically represent the Palestinian people, the question then arises what can be learned from Arab and Jewish attitudes in Israel about their mutual trust and the prospects for arriving to a peace settlement between Israel and the Palestinians? These attitudes, as measured by the Index surveys from 2003 to 2015, show stability and consistency. They are not fluctuating moods but rather thoughtful opinions, grounded in experiences, interests and values. They suggest two conflicting interpretations. According to the sanguine interpretation, the chances are good and the question concerns maturation and timing only. Arabs and Jews agree on both a two-state solution to the Palestinian question and on the end of the conflict once an agreement is attained. The Arabs are reconciled with the existence of Israel as an independent and sovereign state. Furthermore, although it is not their preference, they come to terms with Israel as a Jewish state, with a Jewish majority, a Hebrew language, an Israeli culture and a Jewish calendar. The Arabs have not taken part in any act of belligerency between Israel and the Arab world (the inter-state wars, the Palestinian Intifadas, Israel’s clashes with the Hamas and Hezbollah). They have kept law and order and refrained from terrorism. The Palestinian national movement has not called upon the Palestinian citizens of Israel to join the Palestinian resistance movement and they have chosen to stay away from it. Since 1948 Arab–Jewish coexistence has proved to be solid and firm. The Arabs well understand the advantages of living in Israel, even as a minority, when compared to the gloomy reality of life of the Palestinians under occupation and in the Diaspora and of the Arabs in the region. Their enthusiasm for the Arab Spring was replaced by disillusionment, especially in the aftermath of the military coup in Egypt and the chaos and mass killing in Syria. For this reason and in defiance of their leaders, there is no majority of Arabs in support of Israel’s integration into the Middle East. From this perspective the stand of the Palestinian-Arab citizens on the conflict points to the historical processes leading Palestinians to coming to terms with Israel. The Palestinian people are a partner for peace like their Israeli–Palestinian segment. The Arabs in Israel demonstrate the feasibility of rapprochement between the Jewish and Palestinian peoples and the possibility of two states living peacefully side by side. It is hard to say when rapprochement will take place and when the negotiations between the two parties to the conflict would reach a peace agreement. The peace treaties between Israel and Egypt and Jordan and their retention despite violent clashes between Israel and the Arab world and the turbulences of the Arab Spring are a precedent for what Israel and the Palestinians can accomplish. According to this optimistic view, life together with Jews since 1948 have increased Israeli Arabs’ trust in Jews and drawn them to some extent away from Palestinian outlooks on the conflict.9 Their views on the dispute have become over the years more 9 There are no sufficient survey data to confirm this evaluation. Khalil Shikaki, Director of the Palestinian Center for Policy and Survey Research (PSR) at Ramallah regularly conducts 16 Distrust and Discord on the Israeli–Arab Conflict … 307 moderate and pragmatic than those of their Palestinian compatriots under occupation and in the Diaspora. Exposure to Israeli media, contacts with Jews and strong interest in stable life in Israel push Arabs to more complex and nuanced attitudes toward the Israeli–Arab conflict and to readiness to pay higher price for its termination. The alternative interpretation is rather pessimistic. The Arab–Jewish agreement on a two-state solution is an empty slogan as long as the two sides are deeply divided on borders, settlements, Jerusalem, refugees and nature of the Palestinian state. The Palestinian Arabs in Israel follow the position of the Palestinians on these issues, leading to rift and stalemate in the relations between Israel and the Palestinians. They share the Palestinian narrative that Palestine is an exclusive Palestinian land and the Jews are colonial settlers who usurped the land from the indigenous Arabs and are doomed to leave as the Crusaders did. While they accept Israel as a state, they reject its true nature as a Jewish-Zionist state and wish to transform it into a binational state. They might even play a role of peace spoilers by withholding support from a peace treaty that would most likely ignore their grievances and claims. Arab–Jewish coexistence is a sort of mutual convenience that may explode if Israel weakens and occupation persists. This bleak picture resonates with the intractability of the Jewish-Palestinian conflict, feeding on its multidimensionality, protractedness, and deadliness. The claim of the Jews that they rightfully resettle their ancestral land and the Palestinians’ counter claim of indigenity and predicament as a colonized people are hard to reconcile. Intractability is reinforced by the unwinnable nature of the conflict in Palestine. Since true colonial situations end by a victory of either the settlers as in the Americas and Australia or the natives as in Africa and Asia, the unwinnable Jewish-Palestinian dispute is quasi-colonial and hence intractable, and the mutual Arab–Jewish distrust further cements its intractability. One cannot tell which of the two interpretations is more valid. Social life and intense conflicts have a broad margin of indeterminism and are amenable to sudden shifts. Hence a stride toward the settlement of the Palestinian question cannot and should not be ruled out. References Arieli, S. & Schwartz, D. (2006). Misdemeanor and stupidity: About the suggestion to transfer Arab localities from Israel to Palestine. Publication 48/3, Florsheimer Center for Policy Studies, (Hebrew). Biranbaum-Carmeli, Dafna. (2010). Not in our school. Meta’am, 23(August), 39–47. (Footnote 9 continued) representative surveys of Palestinian in the West Bank and Gaza Strip on the Palestinian question. For several years he carried out his surveys in conjunction with surveys of Israeli Jews and Arabs in Israel, directed by Yaakov Shamir under the auspices of The Harry S. Truman Research Institute for the Advancement of Peace at the Hebrew University. For findings of these surveys, see the website of the PSR and the website of the Truman Institute and the joint publication (Shamir and Shikaki 2010). 308 S. Smooha Daniel Abraham Center. (2011). The impact of the establishment of a Palestinian State on Israeli Arabs, Netanya: The S. Daniel Abraham Center for Strategic Dialogue, Netanya Academic College, and Jerusalem: Friedrich Naumann Foundation for Liberty. Economist. (2014, July 5). The Arab World: Tethered by history: The failures of the Arab Spring were a long time in the making. The Economist. Ghanem, Asad. (2012, February 13). Why is the Arab public silent. Haaretz. Glazer, Hilo. (2014, January 10). What Arabs in Israel think on the plan of land swaps. Haaretz Magazine (Hebrew). Kimmerling, Baruch, & Joel, Migdal. (2003). The Palestinian people: A history. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. National Committee for the Heads of the Arab Local Authorities in Israel. (2006). The future vision of the Palestinian Arabs in Israel, Nazareth. http://www.adalah.org/newsletter/eng/dec06/ tasawor-mostaqbali.pdf. Ohana, David. (2011). Israel and Its Mediterranean identity. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Nocke, Alexandra. (2009). The Place of the Mediterranean in modern Israeli identity. Leiden: Brill. Ragson, Adam. (2016, June 25). Leading Palestinians & Israelis want Minister to restore PLO dialogue leader’s permit. Plus61J Articles. Shamir, Jacob, & Shikaki, Khalil. (2010). Public opinion in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict: The public imperative during the Second Intifada. Indianapolis, IN: Indiana University Press. Smooha, S. (2005a). Is Israel Western? In E. Ben-Rafael & Y. Sternberg (Eds.), Comparing modernities: Pluralism versus homogeneity: Essays in homage to Shmuel N. Eisenstadt (pp. 413–442). Leiden and Boston: Brill Academic Publishers. Smooha, Sammy. (2005b). Index of Arab-Jewish Relations in Israel 2004: The Jewish-Arab Center , University of Haifa; Jerusalem: The Citizens’ Accord Forum between Jews and Arabs in Israel. Tel Aviv: Friedrich Ebert Stiftung. Smooha, S. (2009). Arabs in Israel and the Second Lebanon War. In F. Azaiza, N. Nahmias, & M. Cohen (Eds.), Welfare, health and education services in emergency time: In the aftermath of two years to the Second Lebanon War (pp. 163–172). Haifa: Pardes Publishing, (Hebrew). Smooha, S. (2017). Still playing by the rules: Index of Arab-Jewish Relations in Israel 2015. Haifa: Pardes Publishing. (Hebrew) (Also a short version in English). Sztompka, Piotr. (1999). Trust: A sociological theory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sztompka, P. (This volume), Theoretical approaches to trust: Their implications for the resolution of intergroup conflict. Tal, David (Ed.). (2013). Israeli identity: Between orient and occident. London: Routledge. Part V Lessons and Conclusions Chapter 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust): Concluding Comments Daniel Bar-Tal and Ilai Alon As concluding comments to the present book, we would like to suggest that although the contributors provided many different angles to shed light on the nature of trust and distrust and then specifically on the essence of trust, or especially distrust, in the Israeli Jewish-Palestinian relations, one common denominator is found in every contribution: Namely all of them recognize that trust and distrust are sociopsychological concepts. In view of this shared commonality we would like to provide a sociopsychological conceptual framework of trust and distrust as a concluding statement. Nature of Trust Trust and distrust, as different sides of the same coin, are powerful sociopsychological mechanisms that underlie human relations on every level. This observation is universal and is old as human beings started to walk on this earth. There is no doubt that the early homo sapiens, as also animals experienced fear, when they identified a stranger, especially when was threatening. This feeling could also include probably some kind of very basic distrust, but psychology identifies trust or distrust as including relative complex cognitive elements of thoughts that characterize advanced human beings. It first of all requires expectations, prediction of a situation, impression formation, calculation of risks, planning own behavior, reliance or lack of reliance, and may be other thoughts as well. In this vein particular type of trust that is based on instrumental-calculated considerations turns trust to be a very multifaceted line of thoughts. It is based on cold calculations of interests of the other party, including intentions and goals which, under certain conditions lead D. Bar-Tal (&)  I. Alon Tel Aviv University, Tel Aviv, Israel e-mail: daniel@post.tau.ac.il © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4_17 311 312 D. Bar-Tal and I. Alon to risk-taking behavior because the party decides that under the particular circumstance it can trust the other party. In this case, with the focus on the outcome, the person takes a risk that the other side will perform certain behaviors according to the expectations. The other type of trust based on relational–genuine foundations, called often fiduciary, is simpler as it is based on positive interpersonal or intergroup ongoing relations that two parties have, and trust is an outcome of this relationship that is imbued with at least some level of care and liking. Thus, trust and distrust are pure sociopsychological concepts because they are subjective with individual, group and cultural difference. As a concept, trust (also of course distrust) belongs to those psychological-hypothetical constructs, which reside in human mind, as other beliefs and feelings are. It implies that people as individuals and/or as group members (e.g., members of ethnic groups, nations) feel trust or distrust with regard to interpersonal relations as well as with regard to intergroup relations and even institutions. Trust, thus, in most of the cases can be assessed by inquiring the people, who feel trust or distrust, although it can be also inferred by observing human behavior. Certain behaviors may be considered as indications of trust (for example, relying on other’s advice) and other behaviors can be indicative of distrust (for example, saying that the other is not a partner for negotiations) Definition We suggest the following definition of trust/distrust: lasting expectations about future behaviors of the other (a person or a group) that affects the own welfare (of one person or of own group) and allow for a readiness to take risks in relation to the other. The first part of the definition, “lasting expectations about future behaviors of the other …” suggests that the nature of trust is a belief as an expectation (a category of beliefs) is. A belief is defined as a proposition to which a person attributes at least a minimal degree of confidence (Bar-Tal 1990; Bem 1970; Fishbein and Ajzen 1975; Kruglanski 1989). Expectation as a belief implies that interpersonal and intergroup trusts differ from beliefs regarding the other which are solely based on the attribution of other characteristics rather than expected behaviors. However, a distinction should be made between expectations of the actual future behavior of the other and the attribution of a certain behavioral intention. One may expect a hostile other to have malign intentions toward the oneself or the ingroup, but still expect them to show restraint due to the balance of terror or due to a lacking ability or competence to perform the hostile behavior. The distinction between trusting the benevolent intentions of the other and trusting that the other will performed a certain desired behavior is referred to in many of the classic conceptions of trust. In one of the first and most influential accounts of trust, Deutsch (1958) argues that there are certain minimal conditions that need to be present in order for trust to exist. In order to trust another person, an individual must perceive that the other person has: “the ability (i.e. the power, skills 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust) … 313 or resources) to produce it; has a reliable intention to produce it; and has the organized capability of applying his ability and his intention in specific circumstances…” (Deutsch 1973, 155). Sociologist Bernard Barber (1983) also related to this division in his conception of trust. Barber separates between two types of trust. The first is the belief in another’s competence (i.e., “I believe my bus driver has had the necessary training to get me safely to school”). The second is the expectation of goodwill and benign intent (i.e., “I believe my bus driver will not intentionally wreck the bus”). Although the most reliable type of trust would be formed as a combination of ability and intention, a minimal degree of trust may be attainable in the absence of good intentions of the other. In order to capture this distinction, Lewicki (2006) distinguishes as we already pointed out between Calculus-based trust—a trust based on a simple cost-benefit analysis between the parties, and Identity-based distrust— based on identification with the intentions and desires of the other. Calculus-based trust is maintained as long as the benefits of maintaining the relationship outweigh the costs of violating the basic sense of trust between the parties. Identity-based trust is not only based on the other’s ability to deter or reward desired behavior, but rather on a reliance on the virtuous intentions of the other. This division has also been referred to the predictive and fiduciary approach to trust, were a predictive approach to trust simply entails making a prediction of the others behavior, while the fiduciary approach involves the expectation that the other is bound by moral and/or social obligation and can therefore be trusted (Hoffman 2002). Attributions of good intentions may thus be conducive to a lasting and stable sense of trust, but it is not a precondition to the sense of basic trust that may be necessary in order to have a functioning relationship with another group. In our definition of the concept, we consider expectations about actual future behavior, not necessarily the attribution of good intentions to the other side. A further issue to be clarified is the degree to which the expectations about the future behavior of the other is generalized across a host of situations and contexts or may relate to a particular set of behaviors performed in specific domains. A complete sense of trust, regardless of the situation may be reserved for those closest to us, such as family members or close friends, but we may trust other people or indeed other groups with regard to certain behaviors carried out in particular domains. For instance, enough trust may exist toward another nation to lend them a large sum of money, while this trust would not be extended to the same nation for military cooperation. We further refer to the lasting expectations regarding future behaviors, rather than temporary or fleeting ones. Trust may change over time—a party that is trusted today may be less so at a later point in time and vice versa. Trust is thus a dynamic belief, to some extent malleable, based on the changing attribution of characteristics of the other and the varying political conditions on the ground. However, our conception of trust does not refer to sporadic, easily changeable expectations regarding the other. Instead, we refer to long-lasting expectations about the consistent behavior of another person or a group. 314 D. Bar-Tal and I. Alon The second part of the definition: “… that affects the own welfare…” clarifies the type of expectations that carry relevance for the sense of trust. Expectations regarding seemingly neutral behavior (e.g., expecting another nation to raise/lower their taxes), is not indicative of the level of trust between the groups, while expectations regarding behaviors that do affect the own group’s welfare (e.g., expecting another nation to launch a military attack against us, expecting another nation to show support in the international arena) are indicative of intergroup trust. The final part of the definition: “ …and allow for a readiness to take risk in relation to the other” refers to what we see as the core of trust and distrust. Trust entails risk taking, while distrust entails a refusal to take risks. The central role of trust in conflict resolution is intimately related to this part of the definition of intergroup trust. Since conflict resolution invariably involves letting down ones guard, the warring parties are likely to find themselves vulnerable and exposed in the initial attempts of conflict resolution. A stance of distrust does not allow the assumption of this position, since one would expect the adversary to take advantage of this temporary relaxation of ones defenses. Finally, while the relationship between individuals or groups often is described in dichotomous terms (e.g., “I trust/don’t trust them”) we see trust as a continuous variable rather than a categorical one. The ideal types of complete trust and complete distrust are only ideal types—and the actual degree of trust is likely to be somewhere on the continuum between the two extremes. In this vein, we can say that complete trust indicates that one (a person or a group) has maximal trust toward to other and not distrust at all, while complete distrust indicates that one has maximal distrust and does not have trust at all. As the sociopsychological analysis notes, the contents of beliefs regarding trust or distrust are of wide scope. First of all, the objects of trust or distrust: they can be another person, a small group, such as family, a neighborhood, an ethnic or religious group, a nation, an organization, and institution, a state, and even the geopolitical region in the world and the entire world. With regard to each of the objects, individuals may have beliefs regarding the level of experienced trust or distrust. In addition to the level of experienced trust with regard to various objects, the category of trust (or distrust) beliefs includes a variety of other contents pertaining to nature and sources of trust (or distrust), conditions which can either weaken or strengthen trust, consequences of trust or distrust, and so on. In the study of these contents, scientists may provide own views, infer them on the basis of verbal and motor behaviors or listen to lay people and hear their opinions either by questionnaires or by interviews. Taking the presented sociopsychological perspective to the study of trust and distrust, we assume that trust or distrust is learned. Individuals collect and absorb information coming from personal experiences and external sources and then this information has to be processed and evaluated in order to serve as an input to the formation of trust or distrust. The perception and evaluation of trust or distrust are psychological processes and as such they are subject to individual and group or cultural differences. Although individuals may have an inherent tendency to be more or less suspicious and suspicion feeds distrust, but the objects, contents, the 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust) … 315 scope and length of time or changeability are a consequence of learning. Learning of trust or distrust can take place on the basis of personal or collective experiences with the other or acquired from another source, such as family members, teachers, friends, religious figures, or leaders without having any contact with the other. On an individual level, members of the same group, a nation, for example, differ with regard to their beliefs about trusting another group. That is, different nation members in the same situation feel different levels of trusting, and members of the same nation may feel differently in a similar situation, at different points of time. The described individual differences in experiencing trust or distrust originate because individuals differ in their experiences, ability to perceive, in their perceptual selectivity, in their information processing in their motivation and knowledge, which influence the interrelation of the perceived information. (Kruglanski 1989; Lazarus et al. 1985; Nisbett and Ross 1980). These differences imply that individuals differently appraise behaviors and situation and thus also differ in their feelings of trust/distrust toward the same person, group, nation, or institution. The individual differences appear especially in ambiguous and equivocal situations, which in reality constitute a majority of cases. Only few cases constitute categorical situations, which imply unequivocally that one can trust or distrust. However, in the majority of cases, the information is indefinite and vague, and therefore can be evaluated in different ways. There is no doubt that there are also learned cultural differences. Cultures provide different emphasis on trust and distrust. For example, while some cultures emphasize more predictive truth other focuses more on fiduciary one. Also, cultures differ in the views, tuning, cues, types, focus and outcomes regarding to trust/distrust and these differences are even reflected in the language that plays a role in defining different meanings to trust/distrust and differentiating between different types of trust/distrust. These observations indicate that the context in which an individual lives plays a determinative role in the understanding of trust/distrust, using it and reacting to it. While in this analysis we established the cognitive basis of trust and distrust as beliefs, we would like to add that that both sociopsychological elements have a clear affective-emotional components and behavioral implications. Trust and distrust are inevitably accompanied in general by affect and specific emotions. Trust is accompanied by good feeling of calm, security, satisfaction, and pleasure while distrust is accompanied by bad feeling, insecurity, suspicion, and anxiety. Also trust may be related to specific emotions, such as happiness or pride, while fear and hatred may appear with distrust. But we need to recognize the relationship between emotions and trust/distrust is bidirectional. As indicted trust/distrust implies certain emotions, but also emotions toward an object (a person, group, or an institution) can evoke trust/distrust. The best example is a primary emotion of fear that arises in situations of threat and danger to the organism (the person) and/or his/her environment (the society), and enables to respond to them adaptively (Damasio 2003; Öhman 1993). It arouses often automatically allowing unconscious processing, or dealing with danger in a routine way, regardless of intention, or thinking 316 D. Bar-Tal and I. Alon (LeDoux 1996). Once it is activated it leads to suspicion, distrust, and to avoidance of risky and uncertain situations (LeDoux 1995, 1996; Öhman 1993). Finally trusting or distrusting implies different behaviors. Trust usually leads to approaching behaviors (such as friendship, cooperation, or reliance) while distrust leads often to avoiding and preventive behaviors (such as hostility, violence, or competition). Patterns of behaviors in situations of trust/distrust differ among individuals, groups, and cultures. They may also differ from situation to situation as situations provide different set of conditions and cues. But individuals and groups may adhere to particular types of reactions that are learned and then anchored in the human repertoire. Trust as a Group Phenomenon After providing a general conceptual framework about trust and distrust we would like to present two interdependent propositions. The first one refers to the fact that groups may experience trust or distrust toward one another. This intergroup trust or distrust is based on societal shared beliefs (Bar-Tal 2000). Individuals are group members who identify with their group and because of this identification form shared views of the world (Turner et al. 1987). Sharing beliefs is an integral part of group membership, since individuals who live in groups and societies must form “shared communicative environment” in order to be able to comprehensibly communicate (Krauss and Fussell 1991; Leung and Bond 2004; Moscovici 1988). Only when beliefs are shared can take place social functioning of planning, coordination, influence, goal setting, etc. This position is well expressed in the sociology of knowledge perspective, which proposes that social knowledge is developed, transmitted and maintained in social situations, and that as such it shapes the reality of the society members (Mannheim 1952). The contents of societal beliefs are based on collective experiences of society members whether real or imagined and/or on implications which are drawn from these experiences. In principle, any collective experience that is meaningful in the eyes of society members can serve as a basis for the formation of beliefs, which eventually may be shared. There is a crucial difference between the cases when a belief is held by few society members, or even by many of them, when they are not aware of sharing this belief and hold it as personal belief, and cases when the belief is shared by all the society members or a portion of them who are aware of sharing it. The awareness of sharing beliefs, such as beliefs about distrust, turns sharing into powerful psychological mechanism which has important effects on a society. Shared beliefs may influence the sense of solidarity and unity that society members experience, the intensity and involvement of society members with these beliefs, the nature of social reality they construct, the pressure they exert on leaders, and eventually may affect the policy and the course of actions taken by the leaders. In some cases shared beliefs by society members may become societal beliefs, indicating that they are 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust) … 317 considered as characterizing the society. Societal beliefs, as durable and central in public repertoire, constitute societal knowledge accumulated by society members (Bar-Tal 2000). The second proposition is that contextual collective experiences may have a very strong influence on the formation of intergroup trust or distrust. Of special significance are major powerful and relevant to group members experiences, such as wars, conflicts, revolutions, strong political alliances, disasters, injustices, or rebellions, They provide a very fruitful ground for construction of shared trust or distrust. In this vein, we focus now on the powerful context of intractable conflict that brings us to the situation of the Israeli–Palestinian relationship. Intergroup Trust in Intractable Conflict Intractable violent conflicts of which the Israeli–Palestinian is one of the prototypes are violent, protracted, and vicious. They are fought over goals viewed as existential, perceived as being of zero sum nature and unsolvable, preoccupy a central position in the lives of the involved societies, require immense investments of material and psychological resources (Bar-Tal 2013; Kriesberg 1998). In these types of conflict distrust is an inherent part of the evolved sociopsychological repertoire. From a psychological perspective, all societies engaged in intractable conflicts experience harsh conditions of threat, stress, despair, insecurity, uncertainty, and pain, though with differences (e.g., de Jong 2002; Lindert and Levav 2015). These experiences constitute chronic psychological conditions that force society members to adapt both in their personal and in their collective lives. In order to cope with the pressures and challenges that the conflict poses, the involved societies develop a sociopsychological infrastructure that consists of three components: the ethos of conflict, a collective memory of conflict, and collective emotional orientations (Bar-Tal 2007, 2013). In addition, the sociopsychological infrastructure includes distrust, animosity, and hostility as a necessary societal development in the context with the above noted repertoire. The first of these three components– the ethos of conflict—is the configuration of shared central societal beliefs that provide central orientation to the society and thus contribute to the dominant discourse that propagates and maintains the conditions of an intractable conflict (Bar-Tal 2013). It includes eight themes of societal beliefs that provide a clear, simplistic, and one-sided narrative: societal beliefs about the justness of own goals outline the goals in the conflict, indicate their crucial importance and provide their justifications and rationales; societal beliefs about security refer to the importance of personal safety and national survival, and outline the conditions for their achievement; societal beliefs of positive collective selfimage concentrate on the ethnocentric tendency to attribute positive traits, values and behavior to one’s own society; societal beliefs of own victimization concern self-presentation as a victim; societal beliefs of delegitimizing the opponent consist 318 D. Bar-Tal and I. Alon of beliefs which deny the adversary’s humanity and provide psychological permit to harm him; societal beliefs of patriotism generate attachment to the society by propagating loyalty, love, care and sacrifice; societal beliefs of unity refer to the importance of ignoring internal disagreements in order to unite forces in the face of the external threat; and finally, societal beliefs of peace present peace as the ultimate desire of the society. The second component of this infrastructure—collective memory—consists of societal beliefs that represent and construct the history of the conflict to society members (Cairns and Roe 2003; Halbwachs 1992). This memory develops over time and describes the conflict’s outbreak and its course, providing a coherent and meaningful narrative of what has happened from the societal perspective (Devine-Wright 2003). In addition to the collective memory, members of the affected society also have collective emotional orientations, such as fear, anger, and hatred that develop during and as a result of the conflict (e.g., Bar-Tal et al. 2007; Halperin 2016; Petersen 2002). These three elements with distrust, animosity and hostility fulfill a functional role in satisfying individual and collective needs, such as the need for living in a meaningful and predicable world, the need for security, a positive collective self-view, mastery, etc. They also enable mobilization of society members to support the conflict and their active participation in violence (Bar-Tal 2013). This combination of the elements together serves as the foundation for the development of the culture of conflict, which becomes a central feature of the societal-cultural context in which society members, including children, live during intractable conflict (Bar-Tal 2013). This foundation plays a powerful role in the society as a whole as well as on individuals, especially when no possibility of peace appears. In these times there is often a consensual and genuine view that the described sociopsychological repertoire not only reflects reality, but is also needed for the struggle with the rival over important goals. Therefore, societies make major efforts to maintain this repertoire and impart it to the new generations via formal and informal societal institutions and channels of communication. In fact, this repertoire becomes a prism through which individuals evaluate incoming information, their experiences and their reality in general. Yet when possibilities of peace appear, the same repertoire that facilitated the continuation of violence becomes a very serious barrier to the developing peace process (Bar-Tal and Halperin 2011). Distrust is an integral part of any intractable conflict, at least in its initial escalating phase. In violent military conflict, presumably because the stakes are so high, the distrust between the sides reaches an extreme level. It can develop without eruption of violence, on the basis of the deteriorating relations during the outbreak of the conflict. It develops because the parties do not see any possibility to reach an agreement and embark on the path of serious confrontation (Webb and Worchel 1986). But use of violence increases it greatly. In fact violence continuously validates distrust of the rival because of the intentional harm inflicted on the group. Also it is based on selective, biased, and distorting information procession 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust) … 319 that confirms the held beliefs and rejects alternatives (Bar-Tal and Halperin 2011; Bar-Tal et al. 2014). As was defined, distrust in violent conflicts denotes lasting expectations about future behaviors of the rival group that affect welfare of the own group and does not allow taking risk in various lines of behaviors. The expectations refer to the intentional negative behaviors of the rival group that have an effect on the welfare (well-being) of the in group, as well as to the capability that the rival groups has to carry these negative behaviors. Complete distrust means that the ingroup has absolute negative expectations and lack of positive expectations about future behaviors of the rival—all regarding behaviors that determine the welfare of the in-group. Since these two lines of expectation are orthogonal, in cases of severe conflict, the ingroup expects only harming acts and does not expect any positive behaviors by the rival. Attribution of mal-intentions of the rival to stable dispositions with his high capability leads to very high level of distrust. Intergroup Distrust and the Ethos of Conflict Distrust between parties involved in intractable conflict is closely related to other central shared beliefs of ethos of conflict (Bar-Tal 2013). First, distrust is a result of delegitimization—a central theme in the ethos of conflict as well as in the collective memory of the group. Delegitimization is defined as categorization of a group, or groups, into extremely negative social categories that exclude it, or them, from the sphere of human groups that act within the limits of acceptable norms and/or values, since these groups are viewed as violating basic human norms or values and therefore deserve maltreatment (Bar-Tal and Hammack 2012, 30). In essence delegitimization denies the adversary’s humanity and morality, providing kind of psychological permit to harm the delegitimized group (Bar-Tal and Teichman 2005; Holt and Silverstein 1989; Kelman 2001; Opotow 1990) and has the following features: It magnifies the difference between the groups in conflict; It homogenizes and deindividuates the delegitimized group as one evil entity without human face, not allowing individualization of its members or differentiation among its subgroups; It is accompanied by intense negative emotions of rejection, such as hatred, anger, despise, fear or disgust; It implies that the delegitimized group has the potential for negative behavior that could endanger the delegitimizing group; and it has behavioral implications for the delegitimizing group suggesting that the delegitimized group does not deserve being treated humanely, and implying that measures should be taken to prevent harm that may be inflicted by the delegitimized group. In order to deal psychologically with the reality of the conflict, it becomes important to delegitimize the other side and the other side’s narrative, while strengthening ones own narrative. Delegitimization entails attributing extremely negative characteristics to the other group, one of the most prominent among them being seeing the other as manipulative and untrustworthy (Bar-Tal 1990; Bar-Tal and Hammack 2012). 320 D. Bar-Tal and I. Alon Already at the beginning of the conflict Jews arriving to Palestine in the waves of Zionist immigrations, initially viewed Arabs residing in the region ethnocentrically as being primitive, dirty, stupid, easily agitated and aggressive. As the conflict evolved and became violent, Arabs were perceived as killers, a bloodthirsty mob, rioters, treacherous, untrustworthy, cowards, cruel, and wicked (Bar-Tal and Teichman 2005). A special effort was made over the decades to delegitimize the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), established in 1964, which eventually came to express the aspiration of the great majority of the Palestinians. It was viewed as terror and bloodthirsty organization (see Bar-Tal 1989; Oren and Bar-Tal 2007). In many aspects, the Palestinian delegitimization of Jews is a mirror image in terms of its content to the Israeli delegitimization of Palestinians (see Bar-Tal 1989; Oren and Bar-Tal 2007) In general, Jews were viewed almost from the start of Zionist immigration as colonialists who came to settle Palestinian land and expel the Palestinian population. They were stereotyped as strangers, crusaders, unwanted and enemies. Also, Jews were attributed with labels, such as deceitful, treacherous, thieves, and disloyal and were seen as aggressors and robbers. In addition, they were perceived as colonialists, racists, fascists, and imperialists and they were even compared to the Nazis. The term Zionism itself became a delegitimizing label as it was considered a colonialist ideology. This line of delegitimization continued through decades. The national Covenant of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), approved in 1964, stated in its article 19: “Zionism is a colonialist movement in its inception, aggressive and expansionist in is goals, racist and segregationist in its configuration and fascist in its means and aims.” The mutual formal delegitimization continued until Oslo agreement in 1993 when PLO and Israel struck an agreement of mutual recognition. Nevertheless the unsuccessful peace process led to the renewal of the mutual formal delegitimization that till today plays a major role in preventing peaceful settlement of the conflict. Another belief closely related to distrust in conflict is the belief of being a victim in the conflict. Its formation is based first of all on suffered violence and then on beliefs about the justness of own goals and about positive self-collective image, while emphasizing the wickedness of the opponent’s goals and delegitimizing the opponent’s characteristics (Frank 1967). Bar-Tal et al. (2009) defined self-perceived collective victimhood as “a mindset shared by group members that results from a perceived intentional harm with severe and lasting consequences inflicted on a collective by another group or groups, a harm that is viewed as undeserved, unjust, and immoral and one that the group was not able to prevent” (p. 238). In other words, focusing on injustice, harm, evil, and the atrocities of the adversary, while emphasizing one’s own society as being just, moral, and human, leads society members to conclude that they are the victims in the conflict. Feelings of being victimized mean that a society believes that the conflict was imposed by an adversary, who not only fights unjust goals, but also uses immoral means to achieve them (Eidelson and Eidelson 2003). With time, as a result of prolonged sufferings and losses, these beliefs become well entrenched in the society’s members repertoire and are carried on individual and collective level. During the intractable 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust) … 321 conflict almost every society member incurs some loss, including personal loss of family member, a friend, or acquaintance. But even if the society member does know personally the killed or a wounded, he/she identifies with the loss, seeing it as a loss of the society, because society members take a collective responsibility for these losses. In addition, intractable conflicts often lead to other types of costs as damage and destruction or refugee problem. Seeing one’s own group as a victim fosters a suspicious and distrusting attitude toward the rival group with which one is in conflict. Victimhood beliefs are central building blocks of both the Israeli and Palestinian narrative, with the Palestinian collective memory of the “Nakba” (the fleeing and eviction of several hundred thousand Palestinians in 1948) with the later continuous violence and the Jewish memory of Arab violence and reaction of the Jewish state. In this vein, we would like to note that distrust in the context of intractable conflict is also related to collective emotional orientations that dominate involved societies. The clear example is collective orientation of fear that is evoked in the situations of threat and danger that characterize context of intractable conflict. Fear is a consequence of distrust but can be also an antecedent-eventually being in a continuous cyclic interrelationship (see Jarymowicz and Bar-Tal 2006; Halperin 2016). Distrust has a number of consequences. Society members who distrust the rival have also negative feeling about him, live under continuous threat that the rival may carry harm and therefore must exercise continuous tuning and readiness to absorb information about the potential harm (Kramer 2004). Distrust leads to chronic suspicion, chronic expectations of negative acts from the rival, unwillingness to have intimate/equal/civil contact with members of the rival group (there can be a contact via violence), sensitivity to confirming information and selective information processing that come to confirm the expectations. It leads to fundamental attribution error, that is, attribution of the negative behavior of the rival to the stable disposition and the negative intention of the rival. In this respect, distrust is functional in constructing a chronic preparedness for possible harm by the rival group. At the same time distrust forces carrying negative defensive violent behaviors. The need to defend oneself, combined with the belief in the malevolent intentions of the rival will in many cases lead the parties in a conflict to take preemptive steps in order to defend themselves. In a dynamic such as the one described here, these preemptive steps are likely to be construed as an aggression by the other side, strengthening the mutual distrust and the need for an aggressively defensive position. In addition, any violent act carried by the rival leads to a thought that is has to be punished as the retribution for the harm already done. In this way, develop vicious cycles of violence in which it is hard to know who is initiating the violence and who is the reacting to it. These lines of action can be seen as steps of building and reinforcing distrust. It is distrust that closes a possibility of opening any meaningful channel of communication that can advance peaceful solution to the conflict. Without minimal trust it is almost impossible to begin moves of peace making. 322 D. Bar-Tal and I. Alon A prime example of a conflict in which distrust has become the dominant feature is the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. A belief which has long served as a barrier to peace building between the group in the Israeli as well as the Palestinian group is that the other group cannot be trusted to uphold any peace agreement, because of inherent violent, treacherous and intransigent dispositions, hostile intentions, and lacking ability to uphold an eventual peace agreement. Eventually, this trajectory of lack of trust was broken by the Oslo accord signed on September 13, 1993 between the Israeli Prime Minister Itzhak Rabin and PLO Chairman Yasser Arafat in Washington. With this symbolic act began the process of building trust. Various factors contributed to this failure and a number of chapters in this volume analyzed them. The famous quote “there is apparently no partner for peace,” uttered by then Prime Minister Ehud Barak after the breakdown of Israeli–Palestinian negotiations at Camp David in 2000 (Israeli Ministry of Foreign affairs), serves a symbolic sign to the downturn within the Israeli–Jewish society. Although a considerable portion in both societies, Israeli and Palestinian, never gained trust to the rival group, but a majority were ready to give a chance to the peace process. From the Israeli perspective held by the great majority of Jews, the attempt to build trust and carry peace process ended with the failure of the Camp David peace talks. Palestinian President Yasser Arafat was presented by the Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak as untrustworthy because of his presumed lack of real peaceful intentions. At the later point, Arafat’s successor Mahmoud Abbas was seen by many as untrustworthy because of his perceived inability to rein in rival Palestinian militant faction Hamas and implement a peace agreement on the ground. These different motivations for the lack of trust in intractable conflict illustrate the different types of trust referring to intention and ability mentioned above. In addition, we can learn from the above case that it is much easier and faster to destroy a trust than to build it, especially after a long period of learning to distrust the opponent. Nothing is as detrimental to trust as feelings of threats and fear. Violence and military attacks in themselves prevent tendencies for risk taking, which makes trust building in violent intergroup conflict exceedingly difficult. To illustrate this, many Israelis are unable to take the risk of entrusting the Palestinians with an independent state due to fears of disastrous consequences on Israel’s national security. This became apparent also in the aftermath of the Israeli disengagement from the Gaza strip in 2005. A widespread belief in Israeli society is that militant Palestinian organization Hamas’ takeover and consequent rocket attacks emanating from the Gaza strip are indicative of what happens when Israel gives in to Palestinian territorial demands. If one holds this belief, the land for peace-formula is not applicable, since the other side cannot be trusted to provide peace in exchange for territorial compromises. 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust) … 323 The Roots of Distrust in Intractable Conflict We suggest that in order to explain the contents of the beliefs about distrust in intractable conflicts there is need to unveil their roots. We do not disregard the continuous threatening and violent context in which participants (Jews and Palestinians) live in intractable conflict. But we also deeply believe that this context cannot explain all the scope of the intensity and the depth of the distrust that both rival party experience. We propose that at least part of the reasons for the distrust lies in the cultural-societal-political climate of the society as reflected in the information provided by leaders and mass media, the imparted collective memory, and existing dominant political ideologies. That is, the shared beliefs that relate to the distrust are founded most immediately in the information that had been conveyed through the different channels and institutions regarding the conflict. In addition, society members have been exposed to the collective memory through the institutions of education, society and culture. Moreover, society members have been exposed to various ideologies and political stances, where distrust constitutes a central concept but it has been ascribed with various interpretations and meanings. These factors will now be explained, beginning with external sources of information. External Information Sources Given the ambiguousness of many of the situations and due to the unavailability of information to the majority of the public, the society members rely on information provided by external sources when they formulate their distrust. Society members receive the information for example, from leaders, security figures, or from journalists and publicists, who frame it in a particular way and lead to specific understanding. The influence of external sources in the case of information about distrust is tremendous due to the nature of the subject. Among the external sources, leaders carry a weighty role: political and military leaders are particularly important due to the magnitude of knowledge which they assumed to have. Indeed often, they have more information at their disposal for the evaluation of the situation, but they also draw subjective conclusions and therefore it is not surprising that different leaders provide different evaluations although they may hold similar information. Also in most cases the discussed situation is not unequivocal, but ambiguous and then the explanations and interpretations are done in line with the held beliefs and motivations of the presenters. Moreover, leaders are interested in certain political stances where distrust often serves an important role, and hence, they frequently perceive the information and display it according to their outlook, with the intention of convincing the public to accept their standpoint. As an example for this case we can recall the controversial information, later to be claimed by some scholars as false, 324 D. Bar-Tal and I. Alon given by former Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak when he claimed that Yaser Arafat planned the “Intifada” that erupted in September 2000 (Bar-Tal and Halperin 2009). Taking the Israeli perspective only, Barzilai’s (1996) research study is especially relevant for the current analysis. He has investigated the coverage of the Israeli– Arab conflict and the security issues by the Israeli media from the declaration of independence in 1948 until the beginning of the 90s. Between the years 1948 and 1973, the press emphasized the threats and hazards originating from the neighboring Arab countries and reflected the general mood of serious existential anxiety, but at the same time expressed the government’s policy of national mobilization. It often communicated information, provided by government and military authorities, which was censored and monitored (see also Caspi and Limor 1999; or Peri 1998). Only after 1973, critique against the government in regards to its management of the Israeli–Arab conflict had begun to rise in the media, and after 1977 the press even began to present dovish attitudes regarding the conflict’s solution. Still, Barzilai (1996) concludes that even at the end of the ‘80s and at the beginning of the ‘90s the Israeli media were dominated by a conservative propensity, and it preferred to express the formal position of the political and military establishment. This inclination proceeds also today, particularly in times of crises that often occur within the ongoing Israeli–Arab conflict. In these periods, the media even take on themselves to deliver the official line of the government and the military which is quite often found to be tendentious and biased (Eldar 2006; Caspi 2005; Dor 2001; Peri 2006; Sharvit and Bar-Tal 2007). A similar role has been played by the Palestinian media that convey a very negative image of the state of Israel, and of Jewish Israeli people including anti-Semitic messages, presenting Israel as the enemy of Islam (Shaked 2015, 2016). The media tend to emphasize the threats and dangers that the state of Israel and its citizens face. First of all, the media tend to augment the already occurred events either terror attacks, military encounters, or other incidents. They devote to these events major place and provides extensive covering. In this vein, Witztum (2006) who analyzed the reporting of the Israeli television concluded his analysis with the observation that the Israeli television intensifies the stories of conflict and violence and thus increases the feeling of distrust anxiety, and insecurity. Similarly, Ben-Shaul (2006) analyzed the reports of al Aqsa Intifada and found that the Israeli television focused on an audio-visuality of siege, presenting images of personal, familial, or communal suffering, which evoke the long history of persecution of the Jewish people and thus of distrust of the general other. Moreover the media do not limit themselves to the events that took place it extensively deals with the future too. The headlines time after time present various threatening future scenarios of possible attacks, wars, missile attacks, major terror attacks, and so on. Most of these threats are presented by the military sources that evaluate the state of security of Israel and describe various possible scenarios. Many of these predictions do not realize but they leave their marks on the distrust that penetrated deep into the collective psyche. 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust) … 325 In addition to the receiving of information from external sources, two types of prevalent social knowledge especially affect the formation of distrust: (a) collective memory, and (b) ideologies and political stances. These two types often serve as a prism via which novel information is perceived and interpreted. Collective Memory Distrust is considerably influenced by the nation’s past experiences which are deposited in the collective memory. Under its influence, the society can, on the one hand, ignore certain information, and on the other hand, it can direct society’s attention to some other information. For example, collective memories of past traumas that are affiliated with war, genocide or occupation can cause oversensitivity among the society members which will lead to a search for information that points out potential threats or dangers. Such oversensitivity plays a certain role of identifying a situation as dangerous (Volkan 1996). Given the collective memory, it appears that the Israelis Jews are accustomed to believe that there is a real, tangible, immediate and existential threat facing the collective security of Israel as a state, and to themselves as individuals-as the state’s citizens. This memory is magnifying the distrust. It has been mentioned that a long history of persecution, coerced religion conversion, expulsion, pogroms, and even genocide evoked in the Jews the feeling that a constant longstanding threat is looming over their existence and that they cannot expect assistance from any source whatsoever at times of hardship. The Holocaust, where the suffering of the Jewish people reached a peak, has particularly intensified these feelings and has influenced profoundly the Jewish ethos and identity. In fact, we may speak of a syndrome of a siege mentality1 that had not only characterized the Jewish tradition along history, but has also integrated with the Israeli–Jewish ethos and has intensified in light of the events following the founding of the state, especially in the first 30 years (Bar-Tal and Antabi 1992; Bar-Tal 2000). The beliefs that create a siege mentality and the influence of the memory of the Holocaust are directly relevant to distrust. It may be assumed that the Israeli Jews who believe that the world is against them feel threatened and as a consequence, their beliefs reflect distrust, insecurity, and concern. In other words, the siege mentality beliefs serve as a basis for distrust. It is possible that the two types of beliefs are tied together and that individuals form their distrust as a consequence of the siege mentality. The general beliefs that relate to a hostile world become particular and focused on the conditions of the state of Israel (Bar-Tal et al. 2010). The late Israeli leader, and one of the founders of Israel, Pinchas Sapir, expressed this directly when he said: “If we don’t believe [that our backs are against the wall], if 1 Siege mentality pertains to the experience of being under siege, expressed in a belief that the rest of the world has highly negative intentions towards the own society (Bar-Tal and Antebi 1992). 326 D. Bar-Tal and I. Alon we don’t take into account the worst possibility, we will bring upon ourselves Holocaust because of our short sightedness.” (Ha’aretz, April 29, 1973). Some years later, at the Holocaust Memorial Ceremony in 1987, Yitzhak Rabin, then Minister of Defense, said: “In every generation they rise up to destroy us, and we must remember that this could happen to us in the future. We must therefore, as a state, be prepared” (Ha’aretz, April 27, 1987). Sense of victimhood is also deeply rooted in the Palestinian culture because of the particular fate that Palestinian people experienced since the development of the Palestinian nationalism at the beginning of the twentieth century. The Jewish immigration to the area viewed as extension of the European colonialism, the spread of the Jewish settlements in what they viewed as their homeland, the violent encounters with Jews already in the first half of the twentieth century, then the Nakba viewed as an ethnic cleansing, the continuous violence that Palestinian people experienced later and then the Israeli occupation in 1967 that still continues in spite of the ongoing violent and nonviolent attempts to fulfil their aspiration for self-determination and achieve independence—all clearly demonstrate to the Palestinians that they are the ultimate victims in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict and that Israeli Jews cannot be trusted (Abu-Logoud and Sa’di 2007; Hadawi 1968; Khalidi 1997; Said 1979; Shikaki). Ideology and Political Beliefs A similar influence may be generated by the political ideology or the political attitudes of the society members. When political beliefs take a central position in the individual’s repertoire, and particularly, when they create a clear and generalized system of ideology, they have a special effect on the form in which society members view their world. They influence the type of information that receives attention and the way in which it is coded and organized in the brain. Next, they function as an interpretive framework and influence the evaluations, judgments, predictions, and conclusions drawing (Fiske and Taylor 1991; Iyengar and Ottati 1994; Jervis 1976; Markus and Zajonc 1985; Vertzberger 1991). The security beliefs can be part of the individual’s ideology or lie at the core of the individual’s political beliefs. As such they constitute part of the inclusive perception of a group or even a whole nation. In this case, society members that hold an ideology or certain political beliefs may process information concerning distrust in a way that will lend validity to their ideology or political position. In other words, they can assimilate information selectively by rejecting incompatible information that is associated with distrust and by the receiving of congruent information, in order to preserve their ideology or political attitudes. Since in every society there are groups of people that hold different political positions, this disparity is one of the factors contributing to differences in trust and distrust between different parts of the society. Ideology and political attitudes influence societal beliefs that relate to trust. For example, Israelis who believe in the Jews’ exclusive right for Judea and Samaria 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust) … 327 and wish to hold these territories, do not trust Arabs and tend to delegitimize them. Arian found in his surveys a high relationship between political identification and distrust. People who support hawkish parties tend to believe that the chances for war are higher than chances for peace and are less conciliatory in relation to solutions concerning the territories than supporters of dovish parties (Arian 1999). Years later, similar findings were discovered at the National Security Studies Center in Haifa University. In a survey held in 2005, voters for hawkish parties expressed more concern about an attack by one of the Arab countries, an attrition war with the Palestinians, Palestinian terror and an attack on public areas compared to voters for dovish parties (www.nssc.haifa.ac.il). On the Palestinian side, the claim to the land is anchored in religion that can be seen also as an ideology, and so is the distrust in Jews (Quran, 2:100, for an example) so that the one is not the cause for the other. But also clearly various political fractions in the Palestinian society such as Hans and Fatah relate their political standing to the different distrust that they have toward Israeli Jews (Shikaki 1999). Intergroup Trust and Conflict Resolution So far, a bleak picture has been painted of how distrust can become a barrier to conflict resolution in intractable conflicts. We suggest that no serious negotiation can begin without minimal trust. Groups do not begin actively a peace process if they believe that the rival is untrustworthy and the agreement signed does not have any value because it can be broken any moment. However, the circle of violence and distrust can and is sometimes broken and in this section we will outline a few suggestions for the positive role that can be played by trust in conflict resolution and post-conflict reconciliation. Before doing so however, a few central differentiations need to be made regarding intergroup trust and conflict resolution. Central to the understanding of trust in conflict resolution is the differentiation between (1) the type of trust that is needed, (2) the point in time in the conflict resolution process and (3) the perceived power balanced between the sides. First, an important insight emanating from the above theorizing on different types of trust is that depending on the objective of the attempts at conflict resolution, different types of trust are needed. If the goal is to resolve a local, circumscribed conflict, a minimal degree of trust, even one based on terror balance, may be sufficient. If however, the goal is to resolve a more global, all-encompassing conflict, a deeper sense of trust based on good intentions and identification with the other may be necessary. Further, the requirement of trust between the warring parties is different during different stages of conflict resolution. Instrumental-/Calculus-based trust may be enough in order to commence conflict resolution, while Fiduciary-/Identity-based trust is likely to be needed in the more advanced stages of conflict resolution and reconciliation. 328 D. Bar-Tal and I. Alon The need for trust in conflict resolution also varies depending on the power balance between the conflicting sides. This is an area which may have great importance but which has been largely neglected in the research on intergroup trust. The core of trusting lies in the willingness to take risks in relation to the other. There are different conditions under which one may be willing to take such risks. The prototypical situation would be when the other party is seen as having ones own good interests at heart. In such a case, one can safely take a risk, not expecting the other side to take advantage of ones vulnerability. However, another situation in which one may be willing to take risks in relation to the other is if one attributes strength and power to one’s own ingroup. We suggest that a group that sees itself as strong and powerful may be willing to take a risk in relation to another group, even if the outgroup is seen as untrustworthy. The rationale underlying this reasoning is that the own strength ensures both that (1) the other will avoid going into attack out of fear of retaliation and (2) even if the other group does try to take advantage of the ingroup’s trusting position, one feels confident of the defense capabilities of the ingroup to withstand such attacks. We hypothesize that an intervention aimed at strengthening the perceived power of the own side in the conflict would serve to raise intergroup trust by enabling the group to take risks in relation to the other. This assumption may seem counterintuitive, given the research indicating that strengthening of ones group identity increases hostility between groups (e.g., Tajfel 1978). However, we are not simply referring to a strengthened group identity, but rather a heightened sense of group power, competence and possibility to influence other groups – akin to the concept of collective efficacy (Yeich and Levine 1994) and group efficacy (Mummendey et al. 1999). This perception is hypothesized to increase intergroup trust, by reducing the risk involved in trusting and increasing the degree to which one feels that one can influence the future behavior of the other. Peace Process and Trust Embarking on the road of peace building begins often when at least a number of society members begin to think that the conflict should be resolved peacefully f begin to act to realize this idea. Once such an idea emerges and is propagated by society members, a process of moving the society to resolve the conflict peacefully begins. In most of the cases, peacemaking involves, on the one hand, bottom up processes in which groups, grass roots, and civil society members support the ideas of peace building and act to disseminate them also among leaders, on the other hand, it needs top down processes in which emerging leaders join efforts or initiate peace making process including persuasion of the society members in the necessity of peaceful settlement of the conflict and carry it out. This process involves all society members, from the grass roots to leaders and its success depends on change of their repertoire: It means that society members have to change their basic premises, assumptions, or aspirations –in fact to change the world view, the ideology 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust) … 329 that dominated for many years the life of society members. More specifically, they have to change their fundamental views about the conflict, the goals, the rival, and the relationship with him, about own group, about their past–just to name the major changes. These ideas have to be adopted by society members who must be mobilized for the peace process, if it would be successful (Bar-Tal 2013). This process is not automatic but requires active building—in most of the cases first by civil society members and informal channels who struggle for peace and by later leaders with the use of the formal and informal institutions and mass media. Society members who learned through decade’s and even centuries learned to distrust, delegitimize, and hate the enemy have to trust, legitimize and accept the past rival in order to advance peace making process. This is not a simple challenge! Peace process is gradual and complex because societal change is not a simple matter as ideologies, cultures, and identity related beliefs are well entrenched in the society and powerful forces guard them that they will not change easily. It is not necessarily linear but may have fluctuations that sometimes lead to re-escalation of the conflict and then again to its de-escalation. The above described process may begin, but not necessarily may end with the new peace supporting repertoire or with the act of peaceful conflict settlement. It does not have a particular necessary ending as it may stop at certain point for a long period of time without progress to the next phase. This process necessarily involves a minimal legitimization and trust of the rival that allows establishing the idea that there is a partner on the other side to the peace making process. Also it requires constructing beliefs that the agreement can be implemented, developing goals about new peaceful relation with the rival and eventually recognition in the need to reconcile and construction of new climate which promotes new ideas about peace making and building (Gawerc 2006). Trust is needed “to transform the relationship between enemies into a relationship characterized by stable peace and cooperation” Kelman (2005, 640). Trust as was defined is lasting expectations about future behaviors of the rival group that affect welfare of the own group and does allows taking risk in various lines of behaviors (Bar-Tal et al. 2010). These expectations refer to the intentional positive behaviors of the rival group that have an effect on the welfare (well being) of the in group, as well as to the capability that the rival groups has to carry these positive behaviors. In fact the study by Tam et al. (2009) in Northern Ireland showed that trust is a key aspect of positive intergroup relations. The results of this study indicated that it is a powerful predictor of behavioral tendencies toward the outgroup, even more so than the attitudes toward the outgroup. Similarly, in Israel a study by Maoz and McCauley (2011) among representative sample of Israeli Jews found that trust toward Palestinians lowers support for violating their human rights. Trust in turn was found to be increased as a result of contact with the Palestinians. Minimal trust needs to be developed in the initial phases of peace making process at least by a segment of the society because readiness to carry negotiation toward peaceful resolution of the conflict are by their nature risky. It is trust that allows society members to take the risk of being vulnerable and to make conciliatory initiatives to the other party with some degree of confidence that they will not 330 D. Bar-Tal and I. Alon be exploited. Because of these reasons already years ago Osgood (1962) proposed construction of trust through Graduated and Reciprocated Initiatives in Tension Reduction (GRIT). This proposal refers to a sequence of carefully calibrated and graduated unilateral initiatives that induces the other side to reciprocate with a tension-reducing action which in turn leads to a sequence of reciprocations. It assumes that unilateral actions initiated by one of the parties to a dispute may eventually reduce distrust and build trust (Linskold 1978). At this point there is need to note that in addition to the described needed societal process that is supposed to move a society form distrust to trust, there is need also in trust building between the leaders. Although usually interpersonal trust is based on interpersonal impression and working “chemistry” between the leaders, it is possible to construct facilitating conditions and ways of interactions that increase the likelihood of forming interpersonal trust. Lack of trust between leaders as between the Israeli prime Minister Netanyahu and the Palestinian President Abu Mazen constitutes a detrimental and inhibitory factor in the attempts to revive the peace process between Israeli Jews and the Palestinians. This lack of trust stands as an opposite to the relatively trustful relations that were eventually built between the Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and the Palestinian President Yasser Arafat. We can generalize and say that interpersonal trust between leaders is a factor in the intergroup relationship. This is not a sufficient factor but definitely and facilitating one. Also interpersonal trust between leaders has an influence on the intergroup trust between members of the two societies. Lack of trust or having trust between two leaders affects also the society members because often leaders serve as epistemic authorities, especially, if were democratically elected. The influence of the society members on leaders is mostly notable, when significant part of them carry continuously acts of resistance to the ongoing violence as it happened in Northern Ireland and USA during the Vietnam war. Well-organized pressure in the other direction may also be successful, as it happened in the case of the Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin who attempted to lead peace process with the Palestinians that was rejected by a significant portion of the Israeli Jews and eventually was murdered by an extreme resistant to this process. Let us finish this book with the conclusion that trust or distrust are determinative beliefs with accompanied feelings and derivative patterns of behaviors in the realm of intergroup relations. While trustful relations encourage, boost, reinforce and maintain friendly relations, distrust in intractable conflict is a major barrier that prevents development of peaceful resolution of a violent and lasting conflict. It joins destructive sociopsychological walls that need to be overcome in order to stop the bloodshed and suffering of the involved societies. The words of the Egyptian Anwar Sadat in the mid of the Israeli–Egyptian intractable conflict ring like a bell to all those who struggle for peace. On November 20, 1977, delivering a speech before the Israeli Parliament that marked the beginning of Israeli–Egyptian peace negotiations he said “Yet there remains another wall: This wall constitutes a psychological barrier between us. A barrier of suspicion. A barrier of rejection. A barrier of fear of deception. A barrier of hallucinations around any action, deed and decision. A barrier of 17 Sociopsychological Approach to Trust (or Distrust) … 331 cautious and erroneous interpretation of all and every event or statement. It is this psychological barrier which I described in official statement as constituting 70 % of this whole problem” (Rabinovich and Reinarz 2008, 366). 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Political efficacy: Enhancing the construct and its relationship to mobilization of people. Journal of Community Psychology, 22, 259–271. The Transliteration Arabic ‫ﺃ‬ ‫ﺏ‬ ‫ﺕ‬ ‫ﺙ‬ ‫ﺝ‬ ‫ﺡ‬ ‫ﺥ‬ ‫ﺩ‬ ‫ﺫ‬ ‫ﺭ‬ ‫ﺯ‬ ‫ﺱ‬ ‫ﺵ‬ ‫ﺹ‬ ‫ﺽ‬ ‫ﻁ‬ ‫ﻅ‬ ‫ﻉ‬ ‫ﻍ‬ ‫ﻕ‬ ‫ﻙ‬ ‫ﻝ‬ ‫ﻡ‬ ‫ﻥ‬ ‫ﻩ‬ ‫ﻭ‬ ‫ﻱ‬ ‫ﺀ‬ a b t th j Î kh d dh r z s sh Ò Ã Ô Û Ý gh q k l m n h u i/y Þ © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4 335 Index A Abbas, Mahmoud, xix, 144, 155, 266, 267, 322 Abdul Hamid al-Bakkoush, 176 Abu Mazen, 170, 181, 182, 185, 186, 188, 189, 192, 193, 280, 330 Abu Rodeina, 185 Achimeir, Yaakov, 246, 248 Agassi, Joseph, xxi, 3 Age of Reason, 3, 5, 6, 10 Agreement, 102–103 Belfast, 47, 50, 51, 46, 53, 54 Camp David, 137, 138 Faisal-Weizmann, 150 Hillsborough, 51 Munich, 150 Oslo, xviii, 151–154, 156, 275, 320 self-interest vs., 219–220 Alon, Ilai, xxi, xxii, xxiv, 83, 311 Alon, Yigal, 132, 133 Am ha-aretz, 121, 123 Amir, Eli, 247, 248 Annapolis Conference, xix Anti-Zionist, 172 Anwar al-Sadat, 250 Arab–Israeli conflict, xiv, 149, 324 Arab-Jewish relations in Israel. See Israel, distrust and conflict between Arabs and Jews Arab Peace Initiative (API), 265 Arafat, Yasser, xix, 85, 139, 142–144, 151, 155, 170, 178, 180, 181, 206, 275, 277, 279, 284, 322, 324 Aristeas, 125 Arms Control and Security Cooperation (ACRS), 274 Asymmetric conflict, 179, 230, 231, 233 Attitudes of Israeli public, 138 Autonomy, 185, 193, 229, 277, 296 Ayer, A.J., 7, 8 B Balfour Declaration, 1917, 149, 177 Barak, Ehud, xix, 140–145, 152, 154, 277, 279, 284, 322, 324 Bar-Tal, Daniel, xxi, xxiii, xxiv, 83, 197, 311, 320 Begin, Menachem, 250 Beilin, Yossi, 275 Beirut Summit Meeting, 90 Belfast Agreement, 1998, 46, 47, 50, 51, 53, 54 Ben Ami, S., 85, 88, 102, 142 Benevolence, 60, 219, 231 self-interest vs., 219–220, 223, 225, 226 Bergson, Henri, 6 Betrayal, 11, 52, 64, 93, 96, 210, 226, 233 Biruski, Dinka Corkalo, xxii, 59 Bona fide, 3, 9 Borders, defensible, 136 Bridging social capital, 48–49 British government, 44–46, 49, 51, 177 British Mandate, 177, 230, 259, 283 British rule, 150 Brown, Scott, 281 Bishara, Azmi, 185 Buber, Martin, 12 Bush, George W., xix C Cameron Commission, 44 Camp David, 262, 277, 284 failure of, 262–263 Israeli–Palestinian negotiations, 85 Camp David Agreement, 137, 138 Camp David summit, xix, 143, 152, 154, 218 Carnap, Rudolf, 7, 9 Cavell, Stanley, 11–12 Chamberlain, Neville, 4, 13 Civil society, 24, 51–54 Clinton, Bill, xix, 139–141, 262 © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 I. Alon and D. Bar-Tal (eds.), The Role of Trust in Conflict Resolution, Peace Psychology Book Series, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-43355-4 337 338 Clinton, Hilary, 188, 189 Cold War, 274 Collective emotional orientations, 317, 318, 321 Collective emotions, 67 Collective memory, xxii, 74, 287, 317, 318, 321, 323, 325–326 Collective trauma, 66 Collective victimhood, 74 Collective victimization, 62, 66, 73 Community politics, 52 Community Relations Council (CRC), 49 Confidence building measures (CBMs), 273–279 Conflict, Israeli–Palestinian. See Israeli– Palestinian conflict Conflict management, 242, 277 Conflict resolution, 199, 219, 220, 221, 226, 242, 253, 271, 277, 280, 281 intergroup trust and, 327–328 Conflict transformation, 215–217, 219. See also Trust Contract law, 85, 117 Cooperative trust, 28, 29 Criticism, 6, 7, 9, 10, 12, 88, 174, 175, 281 Croatia, 61, 63, 66, 73 Cultural Imperialists, 90 Culture of conflict, xxiv, 318 D Deceit, 103 Declaration of Principles, 151, 275. See also Oslo agreements De-collectivization technique, 252 Dekel, Yaron, 246, 250 Delegitimization, 204, 210–212, 319, 320 Determinants, of conflict trust. See Post-conflict trust, determinants of Dissent, 6–9 Distrust, 197–200, 211 changes in intractable conflict, 210 characteristics, 198 collective memory, 325 and conflict between Arabs and Jews in Israel, 283, 306, 307 of Arab leaders, 286, 287 blames for conflict between Jews and Palestinians, 289 changes, 287 historical and national rights, 288 minority and majority, 285 narratives, 287–289 Palestinian question, 289–297, 304, 305 Index professional public institutions, 286 rate of other groups, 286 regional disputes, 297–301 regional integration, 301–304 of state institutions, 286 definition, 201, 312–316 due to language. See Language in Arabic-Speaking Islam ethos of conflict, 319–322 external information sources, 323–325 intergroup relations, xviii, 202–205 in intractable conflict, 323 in Jewish–Palestinian relations, xx living under preparedness conditions, xviii nature of, 311, 312 in Palestinian, xxiii protracted violent conflict, 23 psychology of, 200 relations with Palestinian people, 205–207 theoretical approach, 15–20 building trust, 15, 16 eradication measures, 18 mutually complementary, 19 pessimistic bet, 17 in rational evidence, 18, 19 target of, 17 untrustworthiness, 16 in violent conflicts, 319 Distrust in Israel, 209. See also Distrust Doumani, Beshara, 260 E Eban, Abba, 132, 133 Economic harmony theory, 25–26 Einsteinian Revolution (1905/1919), 10 Eitan, Rafi, 248, 250 The Elements of Law, Natural and Politic, 4 Elisabeth I, Queen, 3 Elkin, K.M., 193 End of conflict, 264, 294 Endemic conflict, 49, 243 Enlightenment, 3, 7, 10 Entitlement to suffering, 74 Escalation, 20, 193 Ethics, 6 Ethnic identity, 61, 66–69, 71–73 Ethos of conflict, 317, 319–322 Etzioni, Amitai, 4, 13 Eudaimonism, 3, 4 Expectations, 28–30 empowerment type and expectation of, 31–32 expectation of fair treatment, 24 Index F Fair Employment Act, 45, 51 Fairness, 45 Faisal, Emir, 150 Faisal-Weizmann Agreement, 150 Faith, 117 Fayyad Governments, 276, 277 Fayyad, Salam, 277, 278 Fiduciary trust, 210 Fitzduff, Mary, xxii, 41, 49, 53 Former Soviet Union (FSU), 153 Fourth Geneva Convention, 163 Frege, Gottlob, 7 Furstenburg, Yair, 123 G Gal-On, Zehava, 246 Game theory, xxi, 25–26, 155 Gaza Strip, xxviii, xix, 138, 139, 145, 146, 155, 159, 170, 171, 178, 179, 181, 182, 186, 190, 192, 205, 222, 230–233, 260–265, 275–281, 284, 289, 290, 299, 307, 322 Gazit, Mordecai, 135 Generalized trust, 65 Gentiles, 123–126 Giddens, Anthony, 273 Glass, David, 245, 248, 253 Gödel, Kurt, 7 Golan, Galia, xxiii, 131, 139, 140, 246, 248, 249, 251, 281 Golden ratio, 25 Graduated and reciprocated initiatives in tension reduction (GRIT), 19, 274, 330 Group victimization, 74 Guri, Chaim, 245 H Halakhic policy, 122–123 Halevy, Yehuda, 8 Hamas Movement, xix Hanin, Dr. Zeev, 246, 248 Hanin, Jennifer, 144 Hardin, Russell, 15, 19, 91, 198, 273 Harmony, 25 Hegel, Georg Friedrich Wilhelm, 3 Heidegger, Martin, 5, 9, 11 Heine, Heinrich, 6 High-context languages, 85, 87 Hilbert’s program (1920), 7 History, of peace process, 278–280 Hobbes, Thomas, 4, 224 Holocaust Memorial Ceremony, 326 Hudson, R, 9 339 Hume, David, 10 Huseini, Faisal, 98 Hussein, King, 102, 132, 133, 135, 178 I Íamad b. JÁsim, 178 Identity ethnic identity, 61, 66–69, 71–73 Social Identity Theory, 62 Identity conflict, xxiii Impact of Event Scale–Revised (IES-R), 67 Inclusivity, 221, 222 Individual trauma, 66 Individual victimization, 73 In-group identity model, 60, 222 Interethnic trust, 60, 61, 63, 64 Interface Project, the, 53 Intergroup conflict, 60–61, 73, 74, 211, 322 distrust, 199 form of in-group identity threat, 60 between Israeli Jews and Palestinians, 199 resolution, 150 building trust, 15, 16 civilized public sphere, 16 encounter with stranger, 16 good faith negotiation by both sides, 150 good will, 20 GRIT strategy, 19 mediation, 20 optimism, 20 optimistic bet, 17 reshaping the context of conflict, 20 self-fulfilling prophecy, 16, 17 Intergroup emotions, xxii, 67 Intergroup Emotions Theory, 62 Intergroup reconciliation, 61, 77 Intergroup trust, 60, 61, 65, 66, 68, 71, 73, 75, 77 Interpersonal trust, 11, 117, 330 Intractable conflict, 317–319, 323 Ismail, Hafez, 135 Israel, distrust and conflict between Arabs and Jews, 283, 305–307 of Arab leaders, 286, 287 blames for conflict between Jews and Palestinians, 289 changes, 287 historical and national rights, 288 minority and majority, 285 narratives, 287–289 Palestinian question, 289–297, 304, 305 professional public institutions, 286 rate of other groups, 286 340 Israel, distrust and conflict between Arabs and Jews (cont.) regional disputes, 297–301 regional integration, 301–304 of state institutions, 286 Israeli Jews, xviii, xx, xxi, xxii, xxiii, xxiv, 24, 83, 197–212, 307, 325–327, 329, 330 Israeli occupation, 229, 231, 233, 260 Israeli–Palestinian conflict Annapolis Conference, xix descriptive findings, 153–161 distrust, 322 divergent contours of Arab–Israeli and, 260–262 high-potential threat, 24 reconciliation (see also Reconciliation in Israeli–Palestinian conflict) avoiders vs. pursuers, 247–253 concept, 241 and conflict transformation, 217–222 interview locations, 246, 247 methodology, 244–246 between peoples, 241 pyramid model (RPM), 242–244 re-escalation of, xix resolution de-legitimization challenge, 164 five-level scale answers, 152 implementation through Jewish emigration to Palestine, 149 Israeli democracy, 163 Negotiations Index, 153 Peace Index project, 151, 162 questionnaires, 151 “two-states-for-two-peoples” solution, 162, 165 social psychological research, 161 Israeli Palestinian negotiations. See Negotiations, Israel and Palestinians Israel State Archives (ISA), 132, 133 J Jerusalem, 134, 137, 143, 144, 162, 180, 188, 190, 192, 243, 253, 260–262, 267, 275–278, 281, 282, 290, 294, 307 Jewish–Arab conflict, 149–151 Jewish people, the, 145, 149, 159, 162, 164, 232, 248, 259, 261, 263, 267, 284, 288, 290, 295, 303, 324 Jews Arabs, 285 Diaspora, 301 European, 177 Index Israeli, xviii, xix, xx, xxii, xxiii, xxiv, 24, 83, 197–212, 306, 325–327, 329, 330 Syrian, 140 Zionist, 177 Jordan Rift Valley, 133, 134, 143 Jose, R., 119 Judah, R., 119, 120, 123, 124 Judaism, xxi, xxii, 117, 163, 227, 303 K Kahn, Dennis, xxiii, 197 Kelman, Herbert, 280 Kerry, John, xx, 187, 191, 276, 280 Khaled Mashal, 180 Khartoum Summit, 178 King Lear, Shakespeare’s, 11 Klein, Menachem, 246, 248–251 Koch, Johnston, 99 L Language in Arabic-Speaking Islam, 103–104 Arabic as high-context conspiratorial attitude, 88–89 contradiction meaning, 87 defined, 84 emotions, 89 indirectness, 85–86 vs. low-context cultures, 85, 87 nonverbal communication, 89 as oral, 87 as battle ground, 90–91 definition, 84 evaluation of Arabic, 89–90 properties, 84 role and objectives, 84 and trust, 91–92 dependent actions, 97–104 lying, 94–95 Overt and the Tacit, 95–97 regarding truth, 92–94 Lau, Rabbi Benny, 245, 250 Leaders, xxii, xxiii, 54, 99, 170, 172, 212, 234, 244, 275, 315, 316, 323, 328–330 Arab, 99, 135, 140, 182, 265, 285, 287, 295, 296, 301, 302 behavior of, 302 charismatic, 20 civic, 49 community, 50–52 honest interpersonal relationships between, 186 Israeli, 132, 193, 249 Jewish, 144, 301 Muslim, 102, 175 Index Palestinian, 248, 249 political, 49, 139 trust between, 41 women community, 42 Legitimacy, 132, 134, 137, 144, 145 Lewis, Bernard, 176 Linking social capital, 49 “Live and let live” policy, 17 Logical Syntax of Language, 7 Love and hate, 120 Loyalty, 233 Lying, 94–95 M Madrid Conference of 1991, 139, 151 Madrid convention, xviii Malka, Orit, 122 Marcuse, Herbert, 5, 10 Margi, Yaakov, 246 Marx, Karl, 5 Master-Narratives. See National Metanarratives Mazen, Abu, 144 Megged, Eyal, 245, 248, 249, 251 Meir, Golda, 135–138 Meridor, Dan, 246 Metanarratives, 243, 244 Mishnah Bekhorot, 4, 120 model of trust, 117 reliability, 118 components, 126 and halakhic policy, 122–123 reliable person limitation, responsibility of, 121 suspected person and specific situation, 118–120 Rosh Ha-Shanah 1:8, 122 rules, 121 suspicion Jews and unreliable gentiles, 123–126 suspected person and specific situation, 118–120 Mitchell, George, 280 Modern legal system, 117 Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, 1930, 150 Morris, Charles W, 8 Mubarak, Husni, 83 Munich Agreement, 150 N Nakba, 181, 244, 259, 264, 265, 321 Narrative incorporation, 249 Nasser, Abdul, 178 National metanarratives, 242–243 341 National narratives, 242, 244 Nazi Germany, 4 Negative tolerance, 17 Negativity bias, 60 Negotiations Index, 153–155 Negotiations, Israel and Palestinians, 169–172 deadlock, 183 election campaign in Israel, 2013, 190–191 Kemp-David and Tabba rounds, 2000, 170, 200 mistrust, 172 defeatism complex, 180–181 denial culture, 181 disputes and rifts, 181–182 doublespeak and clichés, 182 tension between loss of identity and self-determination, 180 Netanyahu, Abu-Mazen, and Obama, summit between, 189–190 peace process, 280–282 CMBs in, 274–278 history of, 278–280 renewed negotiation, 2013–2014, 191–194 temporary construction freeze in West Bank, 188 trust in Arab politics and public discourse, 172–176 crisis, 172, 182–188 in Palestinian worldview and culture, 177–180 Netanyahu, Benjamin, xix, xxiv, 145, 182, 184–187, 189–190, 192, 284, 295, 330 Netanyahu, Ben-Zion, 187 1948 File, 260, 261, 263, 269 1967 File, 260, 261, 263 North Belfast Community Development Centre, 53 Northern Ireland, trust building in challenges, 55 cross community civil society growth, 54 intercommunity dialogue work, 54 social capital Belfast Agreement, 1998, 50, 51, 53 “bonding” nature, 48 bridging, development of, 48–49 and civil society, 24, 51–54 CRC, 49 creation of cohesive society, 47–48 definition, 48 Hillsborough agreement, 1985, 51 integrated community development, 49–50 inter-ethnic relationships, 50–51 342 linking, development of, 49 trusted institutions case for, 42–43 development of, 45–47 requirement, 44–45 O Obama, Barak, xix, 175, 187–189 Olmert, Ehud, xix, 83, 144, 145, 267–268, 278, 280, 284 Operation Cast Lead, 171, 183, 186 Operation Defensive Shield, 155 Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OSCE), 48 Oslo, xxiii, 142, 144, 145, 151, 153, 155, 281 Oslo Accords, 142, 151–157, 164, 165, 170, 179, 181, 182, 261, 284, 289, 322 Oslo agreements, xviii, 151–154, 156, 275, 320 Oslo dynamic, 264 Oslo Index, 153–155 Oslo process, 235 Other, perceptions of the, 131 Ottoman rule, 149, 150 Out-group trust, 60, 61, 63–65, 67, 68, 75–77, 221 P Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), 135, 139, 143, 144, 150, 151, 178–180, 190, 193, 261, 264, 266, 278, 295, 297, 320, 322 Palestine National Council, 261 Palestinian Authority (PA), 261, 262 Palestinians –Israeli conflict. See Israeli–Palestinian conflict) Jewish-Israeli trust in, 23–24 question and Arabs in Israel, 295–297 and distrust, 304–305 solutions to Arabs and Jews, 289–293 reconciliation in. See Reconciliation in Israeli–Palestinian conflict) refugees, xix, 162, 181, 187, 262, 263, 266, 275, 293, 296, 305 Particularized trust, 59, 60 Peace Index, 151–152, 156 Peace-making, 131–146 Peace negotiation, xx, 153, 156, 188, 292, 330 Peace processes, 41, 275, 278–280. See also Negotiations, Israel and Palestinians Peirce, Charles S, 8 Peretz, Amir, 246 Personal trust, 157 Personal victimization, 67–69, 72, 75, 77 Index Persuasion, 97–101 PLO. See Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) Political agreement, 41, 43, 45, 47, 52, 55, 102 Political trustbuilding, 45, 47 Popper, Karl, 6, 7, 12 Positive tolerance, 17 Post-conflict community, 61 Post-conflict trust, determinants of, 61–63 amount of trust, 62 broken trust, 63–64 challenges, 77 for repairing trust, 64–66 in Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, 73–74 descriptive statistics, 69 eliciting specific emotions, 62 generalized trust, 65 in-group bias, 73 out-group trust prediction ethnic identity, 61, 67, 73 factors, 61 in majority and minority, 73 personal and collective victimization, 67 positive and negative emotions, 67, 74–76 results, 67–73 role, 61 sociodemographic variables, 66, 73 participants, 66, 75 for younger age groups, 75 Pragmatism, 8 The Prince, Machiavelli’s, 4 Principle based trustworthy process, xxiv Prisoners Document, the, 264 Progressive Unionist Party, 53 Proof, 6, 10, 16 Proximity, 86, 119, 218, 222, 224, 226, 230, 231, 236 Public opinion in Israel, 141, 159, 172, 183, 245 Public sphere, 16, 123 Pure trust, 28, 29 Putnam, Robert, 24, 48 R Rabin, Yizhak, 132, 135–137, 139–143, 275, 322, 326, 330 Radicalism, 9–11 Rationality, 6, 76, 89 Raviv, Amiram, xxiii, 197 Realpolitik, 3, 4, 9, 11, 13 Recognition, 137, 248 Reconciliation in Israeli–Palestinian conflict, 254 Index avoiders vs. pursuers, 247–253 concept, 241 de-collectivization technique, 252 epistemological differentiation, 251 interview locations chosen by interviewees, 246 data gathering and analysis process, 247 question of interviewees’ discretion, 247 Yair and Bambi Sheleg, 246 methodology interviewees, 245–246, 255–256 questionnaire, 245, 254–255 study of semi-structured individual interview, 244 between peoples, 241–242 pyramid model (RPM) Israeli–Palestinian as identity conflict, 243–244 national metanarratives, 242–243 national narratives, 242 political-cultural-diplomatic moves, 242 psychological processes, 242 value neutralization technique, 251–252 Refugees, xix, 162, 181, 187, 262, 263, 266, 275, 293, 296, 305 Relational trust, 273, 275, 286, 277, 280, 281 Reliability, Mishnah components, 126 and halakhic policy disqualified witnesses, 122 Tohorot and Hagigah rules, 122–123 reliable person limitation, responsibility of, 121 suspected person and specific situation, 118–120 Resettlement (Tawtin), 265 Ricoeur, Paul, 88 “Robbers and plunderers (hamsanim)”, 122 Rosen-Zvi, Ishay, xxii, 117 Russell, Bertrand, 6, 7 S Sadat, Anwar, 135, 137, 138, 143, 330 Salem, Walid, xxiv, 271 Samuel, Herbert, 177 Sasson, Eliyahu, 132, 133 Second Lebanon War, 155, 183, 297 Security Council Resolution 242, 178 Self-determination, 326 for Palestinians, 275 in PLO, 266 right of, xviii, 284 tension between loss of identity and, 180 343 for West Bank Palestinians, 275 Self-fulfilling prophecy, 16, 17, 131, 210 Self-interest, 3, 5, 25, 29, 76, 219–220, 223, 225, 226, 273 Selfish trust, 28, 29 Semi-structured individual interview, 244 Shai, Nachman, 246 Shalit, Gilad, 155 Shapira, Paz, xxiii, 197, 200 Sharabi, Hisham, 175 Sharon, Ariel, 139, 145, 152, 170, 288 Shaw, Bernard, 6 Sheleg, Bambi, 246, 248, 250 Sheleg, Yair, 246, 250 Sifra, 125 Simmel, Georg, 12 Six Day War, xxiv, 162, 163, 177–178, 297 Smooha, Sammy, xviii, 284 Social capital concept of, 60 construction of, 24 relationship between trust and, 247 stressed, 24 trust building in Northern Ireland Belfast Agreement 1998, 50, 51, 53 “bonding” nature, 48 bridging, development of, 49 and civil society, 24, 51–54 CRC, 49 creation of cohesive society, 47 definition, 48 Hillsborough agreement, 51 integrated community development, 50 inter-ethnic relationships, 51 linking, development of, 49 Social Identity Theory, 62 Social reconstruction, 74, 75 Social trust, 60, 65 Stern, Sascha, 124 Strategic-experimental approach, 25, 26, 34 economic harmony theory, 25 game-theoretic approach, 25 Golden Ratio, 25 trust game contextual variables effect, 30 effects of cognitive, motivational and contextual variables, 28 investors empowerment type and expectation of, 31, 32 expectations effects of, 28–30 lost wallet game, 27 simple-effects analysis, 32 source of injustice, 33 344 trust recipient vs. dictator, 26, 33 Suicide bombing, xix Suleiman, Ramzi, xxi, 23, 28, 30, 90 Suspicion, 118–121 Susser, Asher, xiii, xxii, 259 Syndrome of hostility, 210 Sztompka, Piotr, xxi, 15, 96, 198 T Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace and Research Conference, 273, 275 Targeting Social Need, 46 Temple Mount, 85, 134, 144, 145, 253, 262, 267 Tentative trust, 19 Territorial conflict, 262 Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 7 Trust, 197–200, 211–212. See also Distrust absence of, 131 in Arabic, Arab history and culture, 222–226 -building between Jews and Palestinians, 207–210 and CBM in Israeli–Palestinian peace negotiations. See Negotiations, Israel and Palestinians) characteristics, 198–199, 218 as compassion, 220 conduct of social life, 23 in conflict transformation and reconciliation, 215–217, 236 as communal concept, 229–231 conceptualizations, 217–219 as contract, 233–234 as experience and security, 231–232 as loyalty, 233 new application, 234–235 as contract, 233–234 definition, 24–25, 198, 201, 241, 312–316 degree of, 157–158 expectation of fair treatment, 24 as experience and security, 231–232 fiduciary, 198 as group phenomenon, 316–317 in Hebrew and Jewish history and culture, 227–228 ideology and political beliefs, 326–327 as inclusivity, 221–222 intergroup, xxiii, 60, 61, 65, 66, 68, 71, 73, 75, 77, 202, 203, 312, 314, 316–319, 327–328 and conflict resolution, 327–328 relations, xvii, 202–205 intractable conflicts, intergroup in, 317–319 Index language, communication and. See Language in Arabic-Speaking Islam) living with conviction, xviii as loyalty, 233 maintenance of harmonious relationships, 23 narratives and issues of, 268–269 Arab–Israeli and the Palestinian–Israeli conflict, divergent contours of, 260–262 failure of Camp David, 262–263 mutually intrusive perceptions of two states, 266–268 and refugee conundrum, 263–266 unbridgeable narratives and political impact, 259–260 nature of, 311–312 and peace process, 328–331 philosophical literature, 3–6 in political science, 24 between politicians and leaders, 41 principle of, 11–13 problem between Israeli–Palestinian relations, 149 psychology of, 200 and radicalism, 9–11 and rational dissent, 6–9 relations with Palestinian people, 205–207 reliance of person, 24 as responsibility, 221 role in Israeli public, 138 negotiations, 132 as self-interest vs. benevolence, 219–220 social capital. See Social capital strategic-experimental approach to, 25–26, 34 theoretical approaches in intergroup conflict see also Intergroup conflict building trust, 15–16 civilized public sphere, 16 encounter with stranger, 16 good will, 20 GRIT strategy, 19 mediation, 20 optimism, 20 optimistic bet, 17 reshaping the context of conflict, 20 self-fulfilling prophecy, 16, 17 theoretical introduction, 271–274 Trust game, 25, 26 experimental studies on, 26–28 effects of cognitive, motivational, and contextual variables, 28 Index effect of contextual variables on trust honoring, 30–31 effects of investors’ expectations on trust honoring, 28–30 Trustworthy process, xxiv, 276, 279–281 Truth, 92–94 Two-states-for-two-peoples solution, 162, 165 Two-state solution, xix, xvi, 159, 162, 179, 185, 187, 190, 240, 295, 296, 307–309, 311 Tzoreff, Yohanan, xxiv, 169 U Ulster Democratic Party, 53 UN General Assembly Resolution 194, 262 UN Security Council Resolution 242, 260, 261, 263, 278 V Value neutralization technique, 251–252 Violence, xix, xxii, xxiii, xxv, 15, 41, 42, 44, 49, 50, 53–55, 61, 62, 66, 144, 161, 179, 193, 194, 206–208, 210, 215, 216, 221, 250, 284, 299, 316, 318, 320–322, 324, 326, 327, 330 Vukovar, xxii, 61, 63–66 W War of Independence (1948), 186, 244 War trauma, 66, 73, 243 Weizman, Ezer, 138, 143 Weizmann, Chaim, 163 West Bank, xii, xiii, 132–134, 139, 145, 146, 158–159, 161, 179, 183, 192, 222, 231, 261, 262, 264–266, 268, 275, 277, 278, 280, 281, 289, 307 345 access of goods, 276 Hussein, King handling, 178 Israeli army in, 233 Israeli occupation, 230, 231, 260, 233 Israeli security requirements, 260 Israel possession, 138, 143 Jewish settlement, 284 Jewish settlers in, 158, 282 Palestinian villages in, 181 self-determination, 275 settlements, 185–189 temporary construction freeze in, 188 territorial limits, 263 warning stations inside, 144 Wisdom of Solomon, 125 Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 5–9, 11 World War II, 12 World Zionist Organization, 150 Wotton, William, 3 Y Yanai, Shlomo, 133, 143 Yom Kippur War, 136, 137, 178 Yosef, Rabbi Ovadia, 245, 248, 251–254 Yuchtman-Yaar, Ephraim, xxiii, 149, 151, 152, 154, 160 Z Ze’ev Jabotinsky, 150 Zero-sum game, 149–151, 155, 162 Zionist movement, 149, 150, 177, 186, 187, 226, 230, 261 Zuckmayer, Carl, 4