CONCLUSION
A New Vision for 2020

THE AMERICAN ESPOUSAL OF DEMOCRATIZATION AS A BASIS for peace is not without merit. If the world comprised solely democratic countries, perhaps conflict and war would be less prevalent and peace might triumph. Nonetheless, although democratization-leads-to-peace theory looks good in textbooks, reality illuminates its many flaws. Since 2001, when Gambia joined the democratic club, democratic countries have represented 121 of 194 countries worldwide.¹ However, of those 121 democracies, only 90 are liberal democracies that enjoy civil and political rights—hardly an environment in which to cultivate lasting peace. And even “true” democracies are not exempt from participation in war, as the United States has demonstrated in Iraq and Afghanistan.

However noble the cause of democratization might be, it doesn’t hold true to the reality on the ground. Not only that, but its imposition conflicts with its essence. If we go to war to achieve peace, we only perpetuate a cycle of violence. Almost all attempts to impose democracy have been rejected—except in some individual countries, such as in Germany and Japan after World War II. These countries were successful in attaining democratic standards because they had internal motivation for such a move. Democracy must stem from the desires of the people; it cannot be imposed against the wishes or culture of a society.

Besides, waiting for a global-democratic state of affairs is not an option; we must take immediate action if we want to stop the bloodshed and avert the possibility of an apocalyptic catastrophe.

This book has offered immediate, practical suggestions to end war and nourish long-term peace—actions that don’t require a 202 prerequisite imposition of democracy. Our modern peace, in fact, suggests the opposite: it is peace that must be a prerequisite for democracy, instead of the other way around. During times of conflict, societies have little incentive to encourage participatory democracy. In times of peace, however, societies are receptive to regional and international relationships that allow pluralist ideas to penetrate. Open borders translate into open economies, which in turn translate into cooperation, tolerance, and peace. Once peace is planted in a society, greater political and economic reforms—including democratic elements—can start to take root. Peace also will weaken the militant elements who object to openness.

Our modern peace, based on the four pillars of participatory peace and glocalization, peace ecology, peacebuilding, and creative democracy, is an attempt to create a model that can apply to any culture, identity, or political system. Ultimately, this approach to peace will lead to more open societies, regardless of the original environment. Many nondemocratic countries have signed peace agreements while remaining insular—Egypt and Jordan are two prime examples.

Our modern peace is not predicated on the existence of democratic elements within a society. Instead, it requires that we take a revolutionary approach to peacemaking, concentrating on the participation of grassroots groups and local governments rather than on rigid national bureaucracies. When peace is built from the ground up, its core will always be the citizen, not the politician, the economy, or the corporation. This citizens’ peace will encourage the support and participation of the people, leading to the democratization of peace and contributing to greater openness, tolerance, and pluralism in the society and in the region.

In today’s tense and often violent world, the fundamental human right to live almost demands an addendum: the right to live in peace. The freedom to achieve peace is more feasible than the transformation of a closed, nondemocratic society into a free and democratic one. External encouragement toward peace will 203 not be perceived as a diktat; peace itself, rather than society, will be democratized—it will be placed in the hands of the people whose lives will be most affected.

In the introduction to this book, I presented a terrifying but realistic scenario for the year 2020, a scenario rooted in continued violence and hatred. That future, or something like it, almost certainly awaits us if we continue on our current path. We face a dire situation in the failure of traditional peacemaking methods, the declining power of central governments, the proliferation of nonconventional weapons of mass destruction, and the dangerous marriage of fundamentalist ideology with massive poverty. In addition, despite the evidence in support of participatory peace, governments typically are reluctant to change their basic approaches to peacemaking or to transfer powers to civil societies; in other words, governments are not prepared to let go of “state” issues to make them “people” issues. In light of these patterns, our current path looks difficult to change.

But I am an optimist by nature and an activist by profession. When, in the introduction, I acknowledged my distress over the global climate of conflict, I said I was not alone; neither am I alone in my optimism. In the course of writing this book, I reached out to a number of political leaders, thinkers, and artists—including five Nobel laureates—to hear their views on our current state of affairs and their hopes for the future.² In these final pages, I have collected their thoughts and prophecies for a new vision of the year 2020.

These are people who have struggled in the trenches of conflict, hatred, and violence—the worst of our time—and still blaze forth with hope and integrity. They are among the leaders prepared to take on the global challenges that must be overcome—particularly the increasing gap between rich and poor that so often gives rise to violent conflict. Their visions, presented here, underscore the need for a revolutionary peace that decentralizes the process and invites people from all walks of life to share in the fruits of peace. Shimon Peres puts it this way:204

Mikhail Gorbachev cautions against the inherent contradictions of globalization and reiterates the need for cooperation:

Nelson Mandela emphasizes humanity’s common values and calls for greater and more effective global governance:

F. W. de Klerk, Mandela’s partner in the South African peacemaking process, expands on Mandela’s notion of an integrated international governance and shares his hopes:

My negotiating partner Abu Ala firmly believes that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict will be resolved; I find his conviction particularly inspiring:

Former German chancellor Gerhard Schröder proposes the European model as a framework for solving regional conflicts worldwide:

Quincy Jones, the legendary music producer who worked with the Glocal Forum on We Are the Future (see chapter 3), emphasizes the need for youth empowerment:

Irish American writer Frank McCourt seconds the notion that children are integral to the peacemaking process:

Actress Kathleen Turner believes in art as a crucial component of cultivating mutual understanding—in other words, she espouses the creation of a peace ecology:

As for myself, although I feel vindicated by the views of these eminent leaders, I am more skeptical. My skepticism has inspired the words in this book; the revolutionary Peace First model stems from both realism about our current path and optimism about our ability to change it.

Of course, not all political leaders possess the humanitarian values and foresight of Nelson Mandela or Shimon Peres. Most continue on the traditional path in search of power, possessions, and prestige, denouncing decentralization and imposing their political will on the weak. The failings of such leaders is why reform at all levels—not only negotiations or peace treaties but also politics and international affairs—is integral to the modernization of peace.

It is my greatest hope that this book will lead to constructive and lively discussion about the nature of international relations and peacemaking in our modern era. We owe this to our youth, who in the year 2020 will be on their way to leading our nation-states. Kenya Jones (Quincy Jones’s ten-year-old daughter) is a member of this crucially important generation. Her vision for 2020 echoes the passion and conviction of our greatest leaders:

Ten or fifteen years down the line, these ideals may not have to be translated into policy—they may exist in the minds and hearts of each citizen. Ultimately, peace must exist on a personal level as well as within the framework of the international community. We must not be content to let our modern visionaries do all the work. We must assume responsibility for cultivating peace in our own lives and in our own spheres of influence, however large or small. Revolutionizing peace is not one option—it is the only option.

From my perspective, at least, the concepts elucidated in these pages have already begun to take root, not simply by virtue of their publication but also as a result of my personal encounters during the writing and production of this book. One such experience was the Arabic publication of Peace First, the release of which closely followed the book’s original Hebrew publication in Israel.

Soon after the Arabic edition was published, I embarked on a trip to visit my old friend and counterpart Abu Ala in his office in Abu Dis, just next to Jerusalem. After negotiating the two Oslo Accords, Abu Ala went on to be appointed as the second prime minister of the Palestinian Authority, following the resignation of Abu Mazen in 2003. He remains one of the prominent leaders of the Palestinian Authority and its chief negotiator for permanent peace.

To my great fortune, our association in Oslo has transcended the political arena and we continue to enjoy a close and dynamic relationship. I suppose that at some point, after years of heated debate and “fighting” around the negotiating table, we developed a deep personal affinity for each other—becoming the best of friends and the most former of enemies. As representatives of two rival peoples embroiled in conflict, we took a leap of faith that continues to bind us tightly together. 210

And so it was with much excitement that I went to visit Abu Ala, holding in my hands a signed copy of the Arabic version of Peace First, fresh off the press.

As always, we continue to “negotiate” when we meet. Old habits die hard, and old friendships die harder. We spoke about the conditions of permanent peace between our two peoples and intuited that our positions were remarkably not too far apart. It was clear to both of us that permanent peace borders must be based primarily on the 1967 lines, allowing for land swaps and modest modifications that enable Israel to incorporate three to four settlement blocs into sovereign Israel and to remove Jewish settlements from most of the West Bank.

Our views were also quite close on the loaded question of Jerusalem. Ultimately, Arab and Jewish neighborhoods shall be governed by the Palestinians and Israelis, respectively. Even on the intractable issue of refugees, Abu Ala understood, like other Palestinian leaders, that notwithstanding the principle of the right of return, to which he adheres, Israel would not commit demographic suicide by allowing a large influx of Palestinian refugees within its sovereign borders. We also echoed common sentiments regarding the need to combat terrorism and to uphold security for both populations through cooperation, and perhaps through the involvement of international monitoring. Yet most importantly, we agreed that peace must be based on the active support of both peoples. What we both understood—somewhat ironically—was that peace cannot be fostered merely between politicians, that it needs to be created as a modern peace between peoples.

Finally, the moment had come for me to present Abu Ala with the Arabic edition of Peace First. When I placed it on the table before him he gave me a mischievous look and, to my astonishment, said that he had already read it, or at least the first few chapters of it.

“Impossible!” I retorted. I told him the book in my hands was the very first copy of the Arabic version. It had arrived from Amman 211 only the day before. But before I had even finished my explanation, Abu Ala tauntingly waved a copy of that day’s Al-Quds at me. He laughed and explained that Al-Quds, the leading Palestinian daily newspaper, had already published four chapters of my book.

I was flabbergasted. Of course, I had known that Al-Quds was considering publishing an article about the book, but I could not have dreamed that it would publish four chapters in their entirety prior to the release of the Arabic edition. Ultimately, they—along with a Kuwaiti newspaper, Al-Rai Al-Aam—published the entire book, cover to cover. Other Arabic media (including Egyptian, Jordanian, Lebanese, Qatari, and Saudi press) offered positive reviews of the book after the 2008 Cairo Book Fair, an act that represented a compelling statement and a powerful step toward peace.

My personal experience that day with Abu Ala served as a timely example of the four pillars of my thesis. Participatory peace and glocalization were apparent in the groundbreaking publication of an Israeli peace book in a city newspaper, and its appearance in virtually every Palestinian home in the West Bank offered a direct line to citizens. Peacebuilding was exemplified in this cross-border exchange of knowledge for mutual benefit, and the media’s support of a campaign of peace and coexistence was a good example of peace ecology. Finally, I felt as though my dialogue with Abu Ala and our mutual openness to lateral thinking was a testament to the principle of creative diplomacy.

To further bolster my sense of optimism, Abu Ala presented me with two pages he had written about his connection with the book, to which he was an important symbolic contributor. Those pages—representing a political statement as well as a statement of peace—have become the afterword of this English edition.

For an Israeli peace publication to have the support of a leading figure in the Palestinian Authority is at the very least a symbolic step toward the realization of modern peace; it is a sign that even in the most complicated and dire of conflicts, hope is not lost. And so I left Abu Ala’s offices in Abu Dis with the unwavering belief 212 that a modernized peace process is not only an imperative but also a realistic and viable pursuit. We must not be dissuaded by the fear of war, nor by the fear of cooperation. Peace in our world is possible, and it is our great privilege and responsibility to usher it in.