This book is the product of a journey, the journey the product of a lifetime. Along the way, I racked up many IOU’s to friends, family, and colleagues, which I can only begin to acknowledge here.
There are several men who were responsible for launching my career as a journalist: Gilbert Cranberg, the editorial page editor of the Des Moines Register, and Harold Chucker, the editorial page editor of the Minneapolis Star, who gave me my first break by publishing my op-ed articles about Middle East politics when I was in college. Leon Daniel, a fine and dedicated newsman, gave me my start by hiring me as a cub reporter for UPI in London; I will forever be indebted to him for that opportunity. A. M. Rosenthal hired me from UPI for The New York Times. Without him this book simply would not have been. He broke every mold at The New York Times by sending me first to Beirut as bureau chief and then to Jerusalem. I am equally indebted to the Timespublisher Arthur Ochs Sulzberger, Executive Editor Max Frankel, and Foreign Editor Joseph Lelyveld for granting me a one-year sabbatical to write this book. They each understood my obsession with this project and accommodated me in every way to make it possible.
While I was stationed in Beirut, there were two people without whom I simply could not have survived—my assistant Mohammed Kasrawi and the Times local reporter, Ihsan Hijazi. Mohammed, who figures prominently in the first chapter of this book, was the most loyal and loving comrade-in-arms a foreign correspondent could ever hope for. We met in Beirut, coming from two ends of the world—I a Jew from Minnesota, he a Palestinian refugee from Jerusalem. During our years together, though, we became family. Some of our bonding moments were times of great tragedy, but there were many happy memories as well. Though we each have since retreated to the different worlds from whence we came, the bond between us will never be broken. This is no less true for myself and Ihsan, who, in my opinion, is the finest Arab journalist working today. His wisdom informed my reporting; his friendship sustained me during some of Beirut’s darkest hours.
Four friends in particular played major roles in helping me conceptualize this book and to better understand the events I witnessed in Beirut and Jerusalem. They are Fouad Ajami, Meron Benvenisti, Yaron Ezrahi, and David Hartman. Fouad, who teaches at the School for Advanced International Studies, Johns Hopkins University, is in a class by himself when it comes to thinking originally about the Middle East. His help was indispensable in enabling me to fully comprehend Beirut and its constituent communities. His intellectual courage was also an inspiration. It was through endless conversations with Meron, a genius much misunderstood by his own people, that I came to truly understand the dynamics of the Jewish–Palestinian conflict. Yaron, with his incisive grasp of political theory, always helped me to appreciate the universal in some of my particulars. His insights into why Israel is in the news and how America relates to the Middle East opened up new avenues of inquiry for me. Sidra, his wife, taught me much about the impact of the Holocaust on Israelis. One of the things I miss most about Jerusalem are the raucous debates we held around their dinner table. No one is quoted in this book more than David Hartman, for the simple reason that no one taught me more about Israel and the Jewish people than he did. His ideas contributed enormously to my reporting from Israel, and they infuse almost every chapter of this book as well. My debt to him as a teacher and a friend is incalculable.
The manuscript was read in advance by Fouad, Yaron, and David, as well as by a wise historian, Professor J. C. Hurewitz of Columbia University. A part was read with perspicacity by the Israeli expert on the Bedouin, Clinton Bailey. My friends Michael Sandel and his wife, Kiku Adatto, both of Harvard University, also sat patiently through a reading of an early draft, which they helped me to sharpen.
Those who have read my articles in the Times during my tenures in Beirut and Jerusalem will note that in a few chapters I have occasionally drawn on previously reported material and quotations, although I have tried to keep this to a minimum. Wherever I have quoted people by only a first name, it was done at their request for reasons of personal safety.
I am also indebted to two institutions for their support in my research and writing. The John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation provided me with a generous grant. The Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars extended me funding, office space, and a researcher. In particular, I would like to thank Sam Wells and Robert Litwak from the Wilson Center for making my stay there both possible and congenial. It goes without saying that the statements and views expressed in this book are mine alone and are not necessarily those of the Wilson Center or the Guggenheim Foundation.
Laura Blumenfeld served as my researcher and translator in Israel; she brought real insight and enthusiasm to everything she prepared for me. John Wilner did the same in his capacity as my assistant at the Wilson Center. Julie Somech and Debra Retyk, my assistants at the Times bureau in Jerusalem, were always there to help.
My Aunt Bev and Uncle Hy and friends Morrie and Jake came through for me after my father died in ways that will never be forgotten. My in-laws, Matthew and Carolyn Bucksbaum, allowed me to make a mess of their Aspen house during the six weeks I worked in their basement, which is only typical of the way they have supported me at every turn in my career.
My editor, Jonathan Galassi, and the whole team at Farrar, Straus and Giroux treated this project with tender loving care from beginning to end. They were an author’s dream. My agent, Esther Newberg, handled all my business affairs with her usual blend of professionalism and class.
This book is dedicated to my father, Harold Friedman, of blessed memory, and my mother, Margaret. It would never have been written, though, without the encouragement and loving support of my wife, Ann, who accompanied me from the beginning of this journey to its end. Lord knows, what she put up with could also fill a book. Without her friendship and strength (and editing) I never would have made it. My daughters, Orly and Natalie, had to get by with an absent father for too long as this book was in progress. I only hope when they grow old enough to read it, they will appreciate why.
Thomas L. Friedman
Washington, D. C.
March 1989