The real challenge of Palestinian unity

Will the west recognise Wednesday’s Fatah-Hamas union?

After four years of internal schism, the Palestinians have agreed on forming a united government backed by the rival factions Hamas and Fatah.

The implementation of the deal that will be ceremonially signed in Cairo on Wednesday poses a number of challenges, the biggest of which will have to be faced by western decision-makers: will the west recognise the new government, or will the new government again be subjected to sanctions and boycotts? As of yet, the decision is still pending.

The Egyptian-brokered unity deal that is backed by 13 Palestinian factions in effect ends the split of the Palestinian Territory into two competing parts. Following Palestinian elections in 2006 and a violent takeover of the Gaza Strip by Hamas in 2007, Palestinians have been governed by two distinct governments from Gaza and Ramallah.

Whereas the Palestinian Authority under President Abbas and Prime Minister Salam Fayyad in Ramallah was internationally recognised and bolstered with western aid, the Hamas-run Gaza was targeted with a comprehensive blockade. As economic stagnation spread in Gaza, significant progress was attained in state-building efforts instituted in the West Bank.

At the same time, the intra-Palestinian split severely weakened the Palestinian negotiating position vis-à-vis Israel. After all, the Palestinian president in effect represented only one half of two bitterly divided entities.

Newly regained Palestinian unity has once more changed the parameters of Middle East peacemaking. For the first time in years, Palestinians will be represented by a single government. This will strengthen their bargaining power and enable the Palestinian leadership to follow through on the plan to obtain statehood through a vote in the UN General Assembly in September from a position of much more influence.

Good news for democracy

Although the composition of the transitional government will not be finalised for a few more weeks, the government's main task has already been defined: the government will be charged with rebuilding war-torn Gaza and will focus on the preparation of presidential and parliamentary elections within the coming year. Given tht the political mandates of President Abbas and both governments in Ramallah and Gaza have long expired, this is good news for democracy in Palestine.

On the ground, the agreement largely maintains the status quo. The Fatah-dominated Palestinian Authority in Ramallah will, for the time being, be left in charge of the West Bank, while security in Gaza will remain under the control of Hamas.

While a "higher security council" will work on integrating armed forces into a "professional security service", this approach reflects the realities of two movements that have deeply entrenched themselves in both parts of Palestine.

Notably missing from the new government's portfolio are negotiations with Israel. In view of the fact that the Palestinian president, Mahmoud Abbas, also holds office as chairman of the Palestine Liberation Movement (PLO), the factions have agreed that bilateral contacts will continue to be managed by Abbas.

At the same time, Hamas officials were quoted as saying that the Islamist group would implement an unofficial truce with Israel and cease firing missiles.

Despite widespread Palestinian enthusiasm surrounding the agreement, many challenges of implementation persist. Will elections take place as scheduled? Will the agreement be honoured by internal oppositional forces? Will political prisoners be released? Will Ramallah-paid civil servants in Gaza return to their offices? Many questions remain.

Back to boycott?

This also holds true for the question of who will lead the transitional government. In all likelihood, Prime Minister Salam Fayyad will not be allowed to extend his premiership. Yet, given that the premier will ultimately be chosen by Abbas, Fayyad might eventually stay in office until elections take place.

Abbas himself has already declared that he will not again run for office.

While these are important matters, a key challenge will have to be tackled by western decision-makers. After all, the establishment of a Palestinian government of national unity is hardly without precedent.

In 2006, following Hamas's victory in elections to the Palestinian Legislative Assembly, the international community reacted to a Palestinian unity government that included Hamas with a comprehensive boycott.

In view of Hamas's violent history of terror attacks, the Middle East Quartet presented it with three conditions for political engagement: Hamas was called upon to recognise Israel's right to exist, to forswear violence and to recognise previous agreements reached between the Palestinians and Israel. The movement's refusal resulted in four years of political boycott.

Wriggle room

Though these policies have failed to oust Hamas from power in Gaza, they have made progress in diplomatic efforts elusive. Diplomacy that sidelines important veto-players such as Hamas might appear easier to launch, but is certainly more difficult to conclude, given that any agreement will need to be embraced by the people on the ground.

Today, the west risks repeating the mistakes of 2006. On Sunday, the Israeli prime minister, Binyamin Netanyahu, ruled out any contact between a Hamas-backed government and Israel, declaring that the Palestinians "cannot have peace with both Israel and Hamas". At the same time, Tel Aviv announced its decision to withhold financial transfers to the Palestinian Authority if it does not receive prior guarantees that the funds will not reach Hamas.

In Washington, a confrontation between Congress and the White House is unfolding. While prominent lawmakers have called for a renewed financial boycott, the Obama administration has opted for a more cautious approach. Calling on the new government but not on Hamas as a movement to fulfil the Quartet conditions, the White House has created some leeway for future engagement. This room for manoeuvre should be used.

The stance taken in Washington and European capitals will have far-reaching repercussions. A renewed financial boycott of the Palestinian Authority would jeopardise any prospects for a jumpstart of final-status negotiations.

This, last but not least, is in view of the fact that a relaunched boycott would probably result in a prolonged deadlock that will prove difficult to break. Also, a new round of sanctions would endanger any progress in institution-building attained under Prime Minister Fayyad.

Just last month, the World Bank declared that the Palestinian Authority "will be well positioned to establish a state at any time in the near future", acknowledging the ambitious two-year plan of state-building so far implemented by Fayyad. Given the Palestinian Authority's dependency on western support, these achievements are now at stake.

In many ways, finding the right response to the Fatah-Hamas agreement might well prove to be the true challenge posed by Palestinian unity.

Michael Bröning is director of the East Jerusalem office of Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, a political foundation affiliated with Germany's Social Democratic Party. He is the author of "The Politics of Change in Palestine: State-Building and Non-Violent Resistance" (Pluto Press, March 2011).

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The Tinder dating app isn't just about sex – it's about friendship, too. And sex

The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, as I found out quickly while using the app.

The first time I met someone using Tinder, the free dating app that requires users to swipe left for “no” and right for “yes” before enabling new “matches” to chat, it was an unqualified success. I should probably qualify that. I was newly single after five years in a committed relationship and wasn’t looking for anything more than fun, friendship and, well, who knows. A few weeks earlier I had tried to give my number to a girl in a cinema café in Brixton. I wrote it on a postcard I’d been using as a bookmark. She said she had a boyfriend, but wanted to keep the postcard. I had no date and I lost my page.

My Tinder date was a master’s student from Valencia called Anna (her name wasn’t really Anna, of course, I’m not a sociopath). When I arrived at the appointed meeting place, she told me I was far more handsome IRL (“in real life”) than my pictures suggested. I was flattered and full of praise for the directness of continental Europeans but also thought sadly to myself: “If only the same could be said about you.”

Anna and I became friends, at least for a while. The date wasn’t a success in the traditional sense of leading us into a contract based on exclusivity, an accumulating cache of resentments and a mortgage, but it had put me back in the game (an appropriate metaphor – people speak regularly of “playing” with the app).

According to Sean Rad, the co-founder who launched Tinder in late 2012, the service was invented for people like me. “It was really a way to overcome my own problems,” he told the editor of Cosmopolitan at an event in London last month. “It was weird to me, to start a conversation [with a stranger]. Once I had an introduction I was fine, but it’s that first step. It’s difficult for a lot of people.” After just one outing, I’d learned two fundamental lessons about the world of online dating: pretty much everyone has at least one decent picture of themselves, and meeting women using a so-called hook-up app is seldom straightforwardly about sex.

Although sometimes it is. My second Tinder date took place in Vienna. I met Louisa (ditto, name) outside some notable church or other one evening while visiting on holiday (Tinder tourism being, in my view, a far more compelling way to get to know a place than a cumbersome Lonely Planet guide). We drank cocktails by the Danube and rambled across the city before making the romantic decision to stay awake all night, as she had to leave early the next day to go hiking with friends. It was just like the Richard Linklater movie Before Sunrise – something I said out loud more than a few times as the Aperol Spritzes took their toll.

When we met up in London a few months later, Louisa and I decided to skip the second part of Linklater’s beautiful triptych and fast-track our relationship straight to the third, Before Midnight, which takes place 18 years after the protagonists’ first meet in Vienna, and have begun to discover that they hate each others’ guts.

Which is one of the many hazards of the swiping life: unlike with older, web-based platforms such as Match.com or OkCupid, which require a substantial written profile, Tinder users know relatively little about their prospective mates. All that’s necessary is a Facebook account and a single photograph. University, occupation, a short bio and mutual Facebook “likes” are optional (my bio is made up entirely of emojis: the pizza slice, the dancing lady, the stack of books).

Worse still, you will see people you know on Tinder – that includes colleagues, neighbours and exes – and they will see you. Far more people swipe out of boredom or curiosity than are ever likely to want to meet up, in part because swiping is so brain-corrosively addictive.

While the company is cagey about its user data, we know that Tinder has been downloaded over 100 million times and has produced upwards of 11 billion matches – though the number of people who have made contact will be far lower. It may sound like a lot but the Tinder user-base remains stuck at around the 50 million mark: a self-selecting coterie of mainly urban, reasonably affluent, generally white men and women, mostly aged between 18 and 34.

A new generation of apps – such as Hey! Vina and Skout – is seeking to capitalise on Tinder’s reputation as a portal for sleaze, a charge Sean Rad was keen to deny at the London event. Tinder is working on a new iteration, Tinder Social, for groups of friends who want to hang out with other groups on a night out, rather than dating. This makes sense for a relatively fresh business determined to keep on growing: more people are in relationships than out of them, after all.

After two years of using Tinder, off and on, last weekend I deleted the app. I had been visiting a friend in Sweden, and took it pretty badly when a Tinder date invited me to a terrible nightclub, only to take a few looks at me and bolt without even bothering to fabricate an excuse. But on the plane back to London the next day, a strange thing happened. Before takeoff, the woman sitting beside me started crying. I assumed something bad had happened but she explained that she was terrified of flying. Almost as terrified, it turned out, as I am. We wound up holding hands through a horrific patch of mid-air turbulence, exchanged anecdotes to distract ourselves and even, when we were safely in sight of the ground, a kiss.

She’s in my phone, but as a contact on Facebook rather than an avatar on a dating app. I’ll probably never see her again but who knows. People connect in strange new ways all the time. The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, but you can be sure that if you look closely at the lines, you’ll almost certainly notice the pixels.

Philip Maughan is Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad