fugitive peace

Picture: Hadar Naim

Yesterday the unthinkable happened. I stood in front of a large audience at a conference in Tel Aviv and said that I thought Binyamin “Bibi” Netanyahu was Israel’s best choice for prime minister. (Actually I said “most interesting”, not “best”, but if we’re being honest, what’s the difference.)

If my Palestinian friends find out they will stop talking to me. Maybe most of my Israeli friends too. Politically I’m somewhere to the left of Meretz. Was I out of my mind?

It was the Globes annual business conference, and I was speaking about Israel’s long-term economic prospects. The main problem, I said, was political stability. Governments change so often that it inhibits serious policymaking.

I took the world financial crisis as an example. Israel should not be feeling the pain much. Its markets were hardly exposed to the strange financial instruments that have brought the rest of the developed world to its knees. Its exports will suffer, but that should only produce a mild slowdown. But the banks are panicking and shutting down credit, ignoring the Bank of Israel’s sharp interest-rate cuts, and that is causing the whole economy to shudder. Growth will be around 1.5% next year by the Bank of Israel’s estimate; in per-capita terms, that’s a recession.

What’s needed is a fiscal stimulus plan. But with Israel yet again in an election cycle, it’s impossible to get a serious one passed. There is a package, but frankly, it’s a joke.

When Netanyahu was finance minister he did a lot of good things. He introduced sensible fiscal management, which provided greater economic stability - the month-long war in 2006 hardly caused a blip in the economy - and reformed the financial markets; one effect of those reforms was to separate banking, insurance and asset management, specifically to prevent a crisis in one part of the financial system infecting the rest of it.

He also did a lot of harm to the poor and the middle class because, as is often the case with economic reforms, it was the rich that benefited first. The welfare-to-work “Wisconsin programme” got lots of people into work, but it didn’t make them better off, just increased the numbers of the working poor. The number of mortgages has been falling steadily too, which is a bad sign for the middle class’s health. But I’ve talked to some of Bibi’s policy whizkids over the years I’ve been here, and I think they recognise the mistakes.

So if we’re talking about economic policy, he has a more ambitious and intelligent one than his rivals. And a Likud government will be more stable than either a Kadima or Labour one, and more able to make reforms happen. For Israel, this is better.

For the Palestinians, of course, Likud is a different story.

Bibi says he doesn’t want to reach even a vague final-status agreement with Abbas now, as Olmert has been trying to for the past year. He talks instead about something called “economic peace”. This translates as: we’ll try to boost the West Bank economy enough so that they stop wanting to bomb us, and then, once they’re nice and quiet, we’ll think about talking about negotiating about working towards possible moves that might, in the fullness of time, when the moment is ripe, and without prejudice to Israel’s right to bomb the hell out of anyone it thinks is a threat, lead, eventually and in the long run, to Palestinian independence. Oh, and let’s not even mention Gaza.

You can guess what I think of that.

However, the fact is that neither Kadima nor Labour is offering the Palestinians anything better. Olmert’s offer of a “shelf agreement”, along with half-baked measures to boost the West Bank’s economy while strangling Gaza in an attempt to get the Palestinians living there to turn on Hamas, amounts to pretty much the same thing, just dressed up more nicely.

In fact, it’s better for the Palestinians to have an Israeli prime minister who doesn’t even pretend he wants to give them a state than one who claims to be working on it very hard while indefinitely stringing the process along because s/he has nothing else to offer as a policy platform. It may not be better for Abbas himself; his political survival depends on stringing out the process just as much as Olmert’s did and Livni’s will. But if that’s the best he can offer his people, he should go too.

Furthermore: if Olmert were, by some already thankfully remote chance, to reach a shelf agreement with Abbas before the election in February, it would be a disaster for the Palestinians, and for Abbas personally. Armed with that agreement, Bibi would be in an even stronger position to say that there is nothing more to talk about.

(I don’t, by the way, set much store by the argument, typical of certain hopeful leftists, that Israel’s biggest peace concessions have been made by Likud leaders. Netanyahu handed over most of Hebron to Palestinian control signed the Wye River Memorandum when he was prime minister in 1988, but under duress, not because, like Ariel Sharon with Gaza or Menachem Begin with the Sinai, he suddenly woke up and decided that it was the right thing to do.)

The other main thing to give one pause is that Bibi, to whom we owe the immortal fear-mongering line “It is 1938, and Iran is Nazi Germany”, is the man most likely to send Israeli fighters to bomb Iran’s nuclear facilities and possibly start another war to bring the entire Middle East down in even more flames than are engulfing it already. But I think if Israel had any window for bombing Iran, it ends when Barack Obama is sworn in. Without at least tacit support from the United States, he can’t do it.

So I say Bibi for prime minister. And by as many seats as possible. The Israeli left needs a total defeat if it’s to rise as a serious political force again.

I just outlined this reasoning to one of my Meretz-voting Israeli friends. He said, “Wow. You’re thinking like an Israeli.”

(And, just to make it clear, this is not the official position of The Economist.)

Very intrigued by the reports of the latest fighting in Gaza between Hamas and Fatah. Intrigued because it looks as if parts of Fatah are using it to undermine other parts of Fatah — which ultimately of course means undermining the whole of Fatah.

The fighting is between the Hillis clan, whose head is also Fatah’s secretary-general in Gaza. I interviewed Ahmed Hillis a few times before the Hamas takeover in July last year.

He didn’t really seem to hate Hamas. He did really seem to hate Mohammed Dahlan, who had been Arafat’s chief enforcer in Gaza, and whom Hillis accused of every kind of corruption and malpractice. Hillis was also one of the leaders of the talks between Hamas and Fatah when they were negotiating the Mecca agreement last year.

When Hamas took over Gaza, several of Hillis’s allies pointed the finger at Dahlan for stirring up the trouble. Hillis himself, though, squarely blamed Hamas. And his clan had already got into a feud, which has since continued, with members of Hamas’s Executive Force (its alternative to the PA security services), over the killing of a Hillis clan member. Nor is only the Hillis clan a target — Hamas has been trying to curtail the power of the clans in general.

So when a bomb went off at a cafe last week and killed half a dozen Hamas people, Hamas blamed the Hillis clan. The Hillis people denied it. There was a tit-for-tat round of arrests of Fatah and Hamas people in Gaza and the West Bank.

Then yesterday morning more fighting broke out. Mahmoud Abbas and Salam Fayyad both begged Israel to give refuge to Ahmed Hillis and some of his people who had fled the fighting and crowded up near the Gaza-Israel border fence.

Extraordinarily, Ehud Barak, who has been consistently blocking Abbas and Fayyad’s requests to remove checkpoints and do other things to make life easier for ordinary Palestinians in the West Bank, agreed to let 180 people including a good number of fighters (albeit unarmed) enter from Gaza, which they did late last night.

But then, strangest of all, Abbas and Fayyad withdrew their request. Israel started sending refugees back to Gaza, where Hamas immediately rounded them up. The Ha’aretz article says that it is “likely that Fayyad and Abbas’ backtracking is connected to power struggles within Fatah”. That looks like a coded way of saying that maybe Dahlan has found a way to use the fighting to screw over his old rival. A seasoned Gazan conspiracy theorist — which of course I am not — would go further and accuse him of ordering last week’s cafe bombing that set this all off in the first place.

At any rate, bad tactical mistake by Abbas to backtrack. His most reliable ally in Gaza, the Hillis clan, must now feel like it has no backing from him. This makes Fatah’s foothold in the strip even weaker than before, and it makes Abbas more dependent on Dahlan.

Dahlan is still powerful in Gaza despite not having been back there (reportedly at least) in over a year - he did well in the local elections that Fatah held earlier this year for delegates for its congress. But he doesn’t have the armed presence that the big clans do, plus he has a poor reputation in general and is believed to have had a hand in provoking the Hamas “coup” which proved such a disaster for Fatah. Depending on him as an agent for anti-Hamas change is not a good gamble.

Home after a long day in Ramallah interviewing Fatah people about whether their party can ever get it together. It’s like listening to Marxist student politics (which, after all, is what Fatah started out as). Long rants about local committees, district committees, regional committees, ad hoc committees, sub-committees; the central committee, the higher committee, the revolutionary council; protocols, rules and constitutions; agendas both hidden and explicit; struggle, unity, fawda (chaos) and fitna (strife); the cadres, the party, the movement, and the national interest, which someone is always either pursuing or undermining, and often both at once.

During a break in the schedule I paid my first visit to Yasser Arafat’s new mausoleum, completed last autumn (above). It’s an austere, brilliant pearl incongruously plopped in the middle of the ramshackle Muqata complex, the presidential headquarters: a cube-shaped mausoleum at the end of a long plaza, with mosque off to one side. The whole thing is dressed in pale Jerusalem stone, which makes it impossible to look at in sunlight without getting an instant headache.

Inside we are spared a Lenin-like mummy and squadrons of goose-stepping troops. Instead a single soldier standing astride two rifles - presumably one for him and one for Abu Ammar, should he ever be resurrected - guards the tomb itself, which is inscribed with Abu Ammar’s dates of birth and “martyrdom”. [Update June 18th: a reader writes: "There are normally two guards (in equally ill-fitting suits) standing over Arafat’s grave. You must have caught one on a pee-break." ] In Palestine a martyr is anyone whose death, even if it was by natural causes, is linked with the struggle, though in Arafat’s case maybe it’s a nod to the popular conspiracy theory that the Mossad had him infected with HIV.

This evening I got back to Jerusalem, went to dinner, and came home to find that someone had, with a cardboard head and pair of arms, transformed the letterbox outside my building into a robot.

In Jerusalem any odd behaviour can usually be explained by a nearby festival belonging to one or another religion. But I’ve run through all the possible Christian, Jewish and Muslim dates and come up with nothing.

It’s official. They’ve failed. A poll today from Khalil Shikaki’s polling outfit, PSR, says that Hamas’s Ismail Haniyeh would beat Fatah’s Mahmoud Abbas in a Palestinian presidential election.

This is the same Hamas that America, Europe and Israel have been variously boycotting, bombing and generally trying to exterminate for the past two years. The Annapolis peace process was meant to make Abbas popular; the economic stranglehold on Gaza was supposed to make Hamas hated. Failed, failed, failed.

Maybe this is why Olmert has said not once but twice this month that he wants to talk to Syria. Whenever the “Palestinian track” looks like it’s on the rocks, Israel revives the idea of peace talks with the one neighbouring country that it has had almost no actual friction with since 1973.

Could Olmert be serious this time? For a while this week I thought so. This month, Israel’s security services gave the cabinet their annual intelligence estimate. According to the reports, the Mossad and military intelligence agree that if America and Israel offer Syria a good enough deal, it would be ready to cut ties with the people Israel and America don’t like — Hamas, Hizbullah and Iran.

Why this is interesting is because the Mossad used to think otherwise. Perhaps it now believes that after Israel’s mysterious air strike on Syria in September, and after the assassination of Hizbullah’s man Imad Mughniyeh there last month — which Israel denies, but everyone assumes it did — the Syrians are now more scared and readier to talk. Last month Israel seemed to make use of that momentum by warning Damascus that if Hizbullah attacks Israel again, Israel will strike Syria.

In other words, with your eyes half-closed it could look like Israel is threatening Syria with consequences for bad behaviour while offering it a carrot for good behaviour — trying to lower Syria’s price.

And if you really read into the subtle nuances, Olmert seems to be lowering Israel’s price. Alon Liel, an Israeli diplomat who held back-channel talks with a Syrian expat from 2004 to 2006 (and who leaps on any sign of an Israeli-Syrian thaw), pointed out to me that Olmert has floated Syria talks about 10 or 15 times in the past 10 months. Often, he’s added the condition that Syria break its “Axis of Evil” ties first. But the last couple of times he’s said that negotiations could “lead to” Syria’s breaking those ties, a hint that he’s not so concerned about the preconditions any more.

The trouble is, a lot of senior Israelis are sceptical that Syria will simply turn its back on its old allies even if it gets back the Golan Heights and peace with Israel in return.

And outside Israel there’s even more scepticism. Recently various Western high-ups have been saying how disappointed they are with Syria. We heard it from a senior British official who came to Jerusalem last week; Angela Merkel said it today (German); Nicolas Sarkozy said it in December; George Bush says it every Monday and Thursday. Syria policy, Josh Landis says, is “the last red meat for the ‘freedom agenda’ crowd in the Republican Party” and is run by the last remaining neocons in the administration.

And Olmert, even if he wants to, can’t go against the American administration.

So don’t expect the talk of peace with Syria to come true. Take it, instead, as a sign of just how hopeless the Annapolis process has truly become.

We were seven, crowded around a table in a West Bank cafe: two officers from PA General Intelligence, two British journalists, one translator and, as seems de rigeur for any gathering of Palestinian men, two wide-eyed young toughs with an indeterminate relationship to the proceedings. Halfway through the conversation a family with two small kids holding party balloons came into the room, took a look at us and promptly left again.

A friend and colleague, Matthew Kalman, had invited me to join him for the interview because he needed someone who knew Moscow. As Matt wrote in his story, published today, one of the intelligence officers claimed to be among a hand-picked group sent to Moscow for anti-terrorist training by Russian special forces. His descriptions of where they had been and what they had learned were detailed enough to convince me, as was the Russian he had picked up (”thank you”, “please”, “hello”, “goodbye”, and the all-important krasivaya devushka, “pretty girl”). He had a pretty good accent too.

What intrigued Matt was that the methods the men were taught had been honed on Russia’s own version of the Palestinians: the rebels of Chechnya, brother Muslims in fact. Their training included a film of the botched rescue attempt in Moscow’s Dubrovka theatre, where at least 129 hostages died from after-effects of the gas that was pumped in to subdue the Chechen kidnappers. But the officer shrugged; this kind of geopolitical irony was beyond him. His trainers had explained to him that the people in Chechnya were irhabiin, “terrorists”. If his superiors told him to go after irhabiin in the West Bank or in Gaza — and he knew that this meant above all Hamas — he would obey.

I wanted to know why men from the PA security forces were ready to hunt down those same Hamas men that many of them, as members of Fatah’s militias, had fought alongside during the second intifada (though it was doubtful that this one had). The officer’s answer was one we’ve come to hear a lot of: the barbarity that Hamas displayed against Fatah men during their showdown in Gaza in June. There are truly horrific stories — of Hamas men riddling prisoners’ legs with machine-gun fire so as to sever them, for instance. Just how many such cases of extreme cruelty there were is hard to pin down: Fatah people tend to inflate the figures while Hamas people play them down as unauthorised “isolated incidents”.

But that matters little; these stories have become anchors of the anti-Hamas sentiment at all levels of Fatah, just as stories of Fatah torture in the 1990s were lore among Hamas. Much as I and others have been writing about the need for the world to recognise that Hamas represents a large chunk of the Palestinians and can’t just be swept under the carpet, as it is has been at Annapolis, there’s no getting away from the fact that a hurdle at least as big as the international community’s refusal to deal with Hamas is the internal hatred. Before June I had written several stories about Palestinian factional clashes and heard my interviewees recite the same mantras — national unity is paramount, we will never allow this to become a civil war, our common enemy is the occupation, and so on and so forth. It all sounds particularly hollow now.

Update (November 7th): Another journalist tells me he has had his meeting with a diplomat on November 26th cancelled because, he’s told, the diplomat has to go to Annapolis. Daniel Levy also confirms the date and has his usual sharp analysis of what to expect.

Gossip on the sidelines of the Saban Forum at the weekend and in Ramallah today is that Annapolis will indeed start on November 26th, as planned. Olmert has also just said that it will be at the end of the month. This is not good news.

Palestinian sources have been telling me that it would be better to postpone or cancel the summit than have a half-baked one empty of substance. Other Arab officials have been saying the same thing. Israeli ones, similarly, say that the summit itself is less important than the process. Their positions on the substance remain miles apart: the Israelis still want vagueness on the grounds that too much commitment is dangerous when both leaderships are weak, while the Palestinians want commitment to the main principles (especially the 1967 borders) and to a timeline for completing negotiations, on the grounds that anything less will make Abbas look like a chump. And the lack of enthusiasm for the summit in the White House has been an open secret in Washington for ages.

In short, it feels as if the only one really interested in this any more is Condi Rice.

One source tells me they will hold the summit without any joint declaration on the substantive issues, merely an agreement on the negotiating process to follow it. That might be so — this source has been right before — but it might just be too embarrassing for everyone concerned. It would especially embarrass Abbas, who has been pretty categorical about how he won’t turn up unless Israel makes concrete promises.

And the most foolish-looking would be Rice herself. She has been pushing Annapolis as the answer to America’s problem of how to increase Abbas’s legitimacy, which is America’s strategy for its broader problem of how to weaken Islamist movements like Hamas. If Abbas caves in and comes to a meaningless summit it will do nothing for his legitimacy or America’s policy goals (which I think are quite warped, but that’s another matter).

So I still wouldn’t rule out some kind of breakthrough as the date gets closer. But given the limited pressure that Rice is willing or able to apply to either Olmert or Abbas, it will be a minimal breakthrough designed not to bring peace but to save face: Rice’s face, first and foremost.

All of us here in Jerusalem are twiddling our thumbs waiting for the Annapolis summit to happen — or not — so here’s an update on progress.

I’ve been hearing off-the-record hints from since mid-September that the meeting might not be in November as planned, but this State Department press conference two weeks ago was the first official acknowledgement I’ve seen that it’s “either November or December” — though that was the deputy spokesman, Tom Casey, and perhaps he just hadn’t been properly induced into the current spin; I haven’t noticed it elsewhere.

But the pressure is rising. This week we’ve learned that Rice won’t be bringing invitations or a firm date with her when she comes to the region this weekend. The Palestinian chief negotiator, Ahmed Qurei, insisted that the Israelis agree to a deadline for negotiations, else no dice. Abbas told al-Hayat al-Jadidah that he wants the deal done in six months [Arabic] (thanks to The Israel Project for the translation), while Olmert’s aides tell Ha’aretz that for all his refusal to set a deadline, the Israeli PM would like to see the deal concluded within a year and that the obstacle isn’t Abbas, but that annoying Mr Qurei, making all sorts of tiresome demands. Ha’aretz also claims that the Palestinians are calling for the implementation to be completed within six months, which I think must be an error.

(I forgot, by the way, to crow smugly at having published the rumours that Qurei was taking over as chief negotiator from Sa’eb Erekat long before they were confirmed. There. I’ve crowed. It’s the small pleasures that get us through the day.)

Meanwhile, even though the talks on the core issues of final status are stuck, the signs are that the two sides are trying to carry out confidence-building measures on the ground — but not very effectively. Facing US pressure to evacuate outposts, Ehud Barak has been in talks with settler leaders about removing some of them voluntarily, but these have gotten bogged down and now Barak says no outposts will be gone before year’s end. Palestinian confidence-building, meanwhile, consisted of deploying 300 police to Nablus today, supposedly as part of a transfer of security authority from Israel to the PA. But the question is whether this will be more than symbolic: the Israeli army will still stay in control, at least at night.

Meanwhile, dissident Palestinian factions including Hamas and the PFLP decided to postpone their conference in Damascus, slated for next week, so that it can be an anti-Annapolis coinciding with the summit. They’d better have flexible hotel reservations.

The fourth in this week’s series of postings on The Economist’s correspondent’s diary

Why Hamas is here to stay

WHAT I’ve heard these past three days is much like what I’ve heard before. The Israeli checkpoints inside the West Bank divide it into several separate mini-enclaves, crippling it economically. It’s been made worse by the recent restrictions on trade in and out of Gaza, where many firms used to sell a goodly proportion of their wares.

Moreover, this isn’t likely to change much. Israel can get rid of some of the less important checkpoints, but not the big fixed ones surrounding the main cities: they’re too crucial to its security. And if just one suicide bomber slips through the net, all the old checkpoints will go back up, and more besides.

So there’s no point in hoping for a miraculous economic revival in the West Bank—the first plank of the plan for strengthening Mr Abbas.

A second way to strengthen Mr Abbas would be to give Palestinians hope that he can really get a peace deal with Israel. But Israel won’t talk timetables for peace, because it says Mr Abbas isn’t strong enough to deliver on his promises. It’s a catch-22.

As for the third aspect of the plan—shutting Hamas down—it has a terrible feeling of déjà vu. This all happened a decade ago. Israel told the PA, then as now run by Fatah, to go after Hamas, which opposed the Oslo peace accords.

The PA arrested and tortured hundreds of Islamists. Some died in jail. Fatah stayed in power and grew used to being in charge. It became ever more corrupt. The peace talks failed. The intifada exploded. Ten years later Hamas won the elections by a landslide.

Indeed, some of the Islamists I’ve spoken to say this is worse than a decade ago: that the PA is now going after Hamas’s institutions and charities, trying to wipe it out completely. This is bad news. Hamas is the main reason that the real extremists, the al-Qaeda jihadist types, have hardly made inroads in Palestine. It gives Palestinians who are sick of Fatah a mainstream Islamist alternative. If it is suppressed, more of those people will end up with the jihadists.

This is something I’ve been trying to get across in the paper. I’ve felt from early on the West and Israel had the wrong approach to Hamas—a mixture of head-in-the-sand reluctance to acknowledge its popularity, and simple-minded attempts to make it go away.

The boost-Abbas plan is the latest example. The plan assumes that if Hamas gets weak enough, it will magically disappear and Fatah will take over. But though Hamas is losing popularity, it’s too powerful in Gaza: nothing can eject it short of a full-scale civil war, and even then it could well win.

Of course, the West (America in particular) wants to stop political Islamism from gaining a foothold. It fears a communist-style domino effect across the Middle East, and with good reason. But the West hardly managed to stop communism, which took control of countries mainly by means of coups, and political Islamism, as a ground-up popular movement, is even more resilient. It’s been building up over years of despotism and misrule in the Middle East.

It may burn out one day, like many other trends, but all the rest of the world can influence for now is whether it develops in a more or less extreme direction. There’s no shortage of ideas for a more creative approach that would encourage the moderates in Hamas instead, but everything up to now has strengthened the extremists.

The trouble is, it may be too late. When Hamas was in power it refused to recognise Israel, but offered it a 50-year peace deal. Israel could have gambled that after 50 years of peace no Palestinian would support a leadership that wanted to go back to war. The time for that is past.

The problem is no longer just American and Israeli resistance. The brutality of the fighting in Gaza made something in Fatah snap. What I’ve been hearing from once-conciliatory Fatah leaders is a visceral hatred of Hamas. “They are a different culture,” one told me recently, with the tone I imagine a British Empire official using about African “savages”. If nobody works on making these two patch up their differences, there isn’t going to be a Palestinian state.

Day three of my correspondent’s diary

Signs of life—and death—in Jenin

JENIN is jinxed. During the intifada it was known as the suicide bombers’ capital. Israeli tanks flattened part of the refugee camp in a bloody (for both sides) battle in 2002. As the most northerly West Bank city, it’s the one that you have to cross the most checkpoints to get to.

It’s been jinxed for me, too: each time I’ve tried to go, something has forced me to turn back on the way. So I’ve never been there in nearly three years.

To avoid the checkpoints, we drive around the West Bank instead of through it. In some places the Israeli highway runs right beneath the walls, fences and watchtowers of the separation barrier. One town, Qalqilya, is almost completely encased by it, with just one road out.

The most poignant complaint you hear there is not that people can’t get to their fields or visit neighbouring villages, but that the nine-metre-high concrete wall on the western side blocks out their view of the sun sinking into the Mediterranean, a few miles away across the dusky coastal plain.

The highway itself bears another eerie hint of the separation. Its junctions are signposted with the names of Israeli towns and settlements, but not the Palestinian ones next to them. More than once I’ve gotten lost here, trying to find a place that the map says is right next to me but, as far as Israel is concerned, might as well not exist.

After a depressing talk with the head of the chamber of commerce and a fruitless one with a wary former head of the city’s awqaf, the Islamic authorities, we drive into Jenin’s refugee camp.

Expecting unredeemed squalor, I’m surprised. There are the usual slum houses, but also winding alleyways with new, pastel-coloured houses that, if I half close my eyes, make it look like a sleepy Mediterranean village. The mosque is grand, new and gleaming. Someone clearly made the best of the tanks’ destruction.

Ibrahim Jaber takes us into one of the houses. It’s his daughter’s. We sit in the huge, ornately ugly armchairs that seem to be a fixture of sitting rooms all over the Middle East and the Caucasus. Above him hangs a photograph of his 15-year-old son Musab, killed (or as they say it here, istashhad, “martyred”) when the tanks rolled in.

When his son died, Jaber was in an Israeli jail for owning a weapon, and also for being a Hamas member (“I never admitted it”, he says coyly). After being freed five years later, he worked on Hamas-Fatah dialogue. But after Hamas took over Gaza this summer, the PA came looking for him. He fled the few hundred metres from his own house at the edge of the camp to the centre, where he says even the PA forces do not dare enter. He has been hiding out ever since.

He is an engaging, gentle man, who holds my gaze calmly as I glance back and forth between him and the picture of his son. Idly, I try to imagine him planning a suicide bombing. He has been jailed a dozen times, for a total of over nine years. That, on the Israeli punishment scale, means minor offences; I doubt he ever hurt anybody.

Somehow I find this reassuring. We like to think we are good judges of character. But of course, that can be an illusion. A couple of years ago I visited a courteous, bearded gent in Gaza who was one of the leaders of Islamic Jihad; a man who had made a career out of sending young Palestinians out to blow themselves up for the glory of the cause, taking young Israelis with them. I still remember how fondly he played with his grandchildren.

The second entry in this week’s correspondent’s diary from The Economist’s website.

From economic stagnation to flamenco in one day

AFTER three years here, I still don’t understand the West Bank security regime. Israelis are forbidden from visiting the main Palestinian cities, and at some, like Nablus, checkpoints block them.

But in others, you can drive all the way in and out without being stopped, and since there are rarely any signposts, it’s easy to end up there by mistake. The first time I went to Hebron, I stopped a taxi driver to ask the way. “You’re in the middle of it,” he grinned.

We visit a stationery factory in Hebron. The usual stories. The checkpoints make moving goods between cities in the West Bank, let alone to Gaza, costly and slow. It’s hard to compete with Israeli goods, which suffer fewer hold-ups.

More surprising is that Hebron’s paper-pounders, shoe-smiths, clothes makers and others are really worried about competition from China. Even here in Palestine, they feel the same global threat as everyone else. Except that here it’s much harder to make your business leaner and meaner, since so much depends on Israel, on things beyond your control.

We drop in on a senior Hamas man, a member of parliament, portly and bearded as per usual. But unusually, he is one of the few not in an Israeli jail. I cheerfully ask why. He bristles. I realise that my question could imply he was an Israeli collaborator. Pointedly, he explains that he spent two years in prison, and (this with some pride) was even elected to parliament from there.

Then he runs down the usual list of PA repressions against Hamas. But he says his Islamist charity, which distributes clothes and meals for Ramadan to poor families, is still raking it in, thanks to the Islamic tradition of giving 2.5% of one’s earnings as zakat, or charity, while what he calls “pro-Fatah” organisations like the Red Crescent are finding it hard to raise funds.

I’ve been asking every Islamist I meet how Hamas is dealing with the attempts to close it down, and I realise that this is the answer. They may go underground politically, but they can still do what they know best: collecting zakat to pay for social projects like soup kitchens and schools. That was what made them popular in the first place. The PA is closing down lots of Islamist charities, but it can’t close them all. Hamas can play this game for years.

He sends us on to three young men who have stories of being arrested and tortured by the PA. All were active during the intifada, when Hamas and Fatah militants fought for a common cause. Now they’re enemies. We sit around a plastic table in the concrete-walled courtyard of their family’s house and they tell me of being hooded, tied up and suspended by the wrists. Again, they say, it is much worse than what the Israelis used to do.

At iftar in my fixer’s home in Ramallah that evening, the conversation turns to the 87 Palestinian prisoners who were supposed to have been released this morning as a goodwill gesture—all part of “boosting” Mahmoud Abbas. At the last minute Israel’s president, Shimon Peres, decided to withhold some of the pardons. (Why, I asked an Israeli journalist friend. “He’s got nothing else to do,” she sneered.)

At any rate, Israel is holding some 9,000 Palestinians. If anything, agree the iftar diners, Mr Abbas will look to his people like a fool for accepting such a measly token.

From Ramallah I drive down to the Dead Sea for a concert by Paco de Lucia, Spain’s most famous flamenco guitarist. The setting is a desert gorge walled by massive cliffs. The warm, heavy air of 400m below sea level fills with breathtaking music. The audience is a relaxed, joyful crowd of Israelis of all ages.

I find my concentration wandering. To be able to flit between the Israeli and Palestinian worlds is a rare privilege; most of their inhabitants cannot. But not for the first time, I’m finding the contrasts hard to digest.