Israel’s dilemma as the war intensifies

If Assad is removed, who will succeed him? Even if there is a viable successor, it is likely that the bloodshed will continue, with infighting between rebel groups and lots of scoresettling.

The turmoil in Syria, which threatens to shatter the Middle East in an unprecedented way, poses a dilemma for Israel. The Assad family has been an enemy of Israel for almost half a century. From direct military clashes in 1967, 1973 and 1982 to using indirect harassment via Hezbollah in Lebanon, Damascus has been high on the list of threats Israel faces in the region. This “axis of evil”, as Israeli strategists saw it, stretching from Tehran through Damascus to Lebanon, weighed like a nightmare. Therefore, seeing Bashar al-Assad’s regime crumbling in the face of the present uprising should be a blessing for Israel.

Furthermore, the recent events in Syria have triggered a series of developments that may have positive repercussions for Israel. Turkey, highly troubled by the crisis in the neighbouring country, may be inclined to overcome her past grievances against Israel and come closer, in order to form an old-new alliance in a troublesome Middle East. And Hezbollah, the Shia organisation that has presented itself as the defender of an Alawite-Sunni-socialist regime (don’t worry, the Middle East has seen stranger things than this), might soon find out that it has made a fateful blunder. Already, it has received near-universal condemnation in the Sunni world, and its position in Lebanon, undermined by the “Second Lebanon War” of 2006, will be further weakened.

On the other hand, for the past four decades, despite Syria’s wish to regain the Golan Heights (captured by Israel in 1967), the Israeli-Syrian border has been quiet and Israel felt relatively safe, knowing that, while the Syrians had a deadly arsenal of missiles, the chances that they would be launched against Israel were slim, as long as a strong and responsible Syrian leader was in charge. If Assad is removed, who will succeed him? Even if there is a viable successor, it is likely that the bloodshed will continue, with infighting between rebel groups and lots of scoresettling. Al-Qaeda, a player in the war, might turn out to be the winner. Is that the preferred scenario for Israel, on its northern doorstep?

Grappling with this dilemma, Israel’s military planners decided on cautious non-involvement. The Israel Defence Forces (IDF) responded in a measured way to skirmishes on the Syrian border on the Golan Heights, going out of their way not to let them escalate. The last thing Israel needs is to give Assad an excuse to divert the violence within Syria towards a common external enemy.

In the meantime, Israeli leaders, unlike the IDF, couldn’t restrain themselves and made announcements that were perceived as taking sides. Prime Minister Netanyahu rightfully hushed them up.

There was an exception, however, to this general restraint, when the air force – according to sources from outside Israel – attacked a stockpile of weaponry inside Syria which was destined for Hezbollah. This was a surgical operation, which not only destroyed its target but also carried a message to Damascus that Israel would not tolerate a change in the strategic balance between itself and Hezbollah.

Following in the footsteps of the strike on the Syrian nuclear installation in September 2007 (again, reported by foreign sources, as Israel does not officially confirm or deny such actions), Israel once more hoped to show brinksmanship without the dispute turning into war. It has worked in the past, but I wonder if it will work in future. A desperate Assad might clutch at any straw to escape the wrath of his people.

My prediction is that unless a large-scale western intervention occurs, Assad will survive. He may be drastically weakened, but still he will be stronger than his fragmented opponents. There is nothing Israel could – or should – do about it, except to protect its interests in extreme cases only.

Last but not least is the moral dimension. The political and strategic debate on what to do vis-à-vis the Syrian civil war obscures how this bloody struggle has already taken the lives of as many as 80,000 people. The general indifference of the world to this bloodshed is appalling. As Israelis in general, and as Jews in particular, I don’t think we should be part of this apathy, for good historical reasons. When my fellow Israelis ask me about this, I urge them not to shrug their shoulders in the face of the carnage just because – as some see it – “Arabs are killing Arabs”.

I hope the stories about the Syrian wounded being treated in Israeli hospitals are true; and if more can be done on the humanitarian level, so much the better.

Uri Dromi is a columnist based in Jerusalem. He was the spokesman for the Rabin and Peres governments of Israel from 1992-96

Israelis look at the nearby Syrian village of Jebata al-Khashabn from an Israeli army post near the border in Golan Heights. Photograph: Getty Images
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In praise of the late developer

The success of late developers proves that our obsession with early achievement is wrong.

A fortnight ago, I fell into conversation with the head teacher of a local school. “You’ve got to create room for late developers,” he said. “The obsession with early attainment doesn’t suit most children.”

We were soon finishing each other’s sentences – talking about long-term confidence rather than short-term hothousing, how children don’t develop in a linear way, and the value of having transferable skills rather than a single focus from a young age.

What a shame, I reflected, that his message doesn’t reach a wider audience. We hear so much about prodigies and precociousness – Serena Williams and her pushy father, Tiger Woods and “tiger mothers” – and so little of the counter-argument: the high achievers who emerge at a slower pace in more balanced circumstances.

Our conversation ended when we both departed to watch England play Scotland in the Six Nations tournament. Only then did I learn that the head teacher’s son Huw Jones was playing in the centre for Scotland. He scored two tries, just as he did last autumn in his home debut against Australia.

Jones’s career is a tacit endorsement of his father’s philosophy. In his penultimate year at school, Huw was still playing mostly in the second XV. Five years on, he is a burgeoning talent on the world stage. The two facts are connected. Jones didn’t just overtake others; he also retained the naturalness that is often lost “in the system”.

As boys, he and his brother made up their own version of rugby practice: could the ­attacker sidestep and run past the defender without setting foot outside the five-metre line? They were just having fun, uncoached and unsupervised. But their one-on-one game was teaching the most valuable skill in rugby: the ability to beat defenders in confined spaces.

Jones had access to superb opportunities throughout – at home, at Canterbury rugby club and then at Millfield, the independent school in Somerset well known for producing sportsmen. But at Millfield, he was far from being a superstar. He seldom played “A-team” rugby. The message from home: just keep enjoying it and getting better and eventually your time will come.

There was a useful precedent. Matt Perry, who won 36 caps for England between 1997 and 2001, had been a “B-team” player at school. What matters is where you end up, not who leads the race at the age of 16. Jones also developed transferable skills by continuing to play other sports. “Don’t specialise too early,” was the mantra of Richard Ellison, the former England cricketer who taught at Millfield for many years.

When Jones was 18 and finally blossoming in the school’s first XV, rugby agents started to take an interest, promising to place him in the “academy” of a professional team. “But I’d seen so many kids take that route and seen how bored they got,” his father, Bill, reflects. So Bill advised his son to go abroad, to gain experience of new cultures and to keep playing rugby for fun instead of getting on the tracksuited professional treadmill.

So Jones took a teaching job in Cape Town, where he played men’s club rugby. Instead of entering the professional system, as one of a bland cohort of similar-aged “prospects”, he served his apprenticeship among players drawn from different backgrounds and ages. Sport was shown to be a matter of friendship and community, not just a career path.

The University of Cape Town spotted and recruited Jones, who helped it win the South African university competition. Only then, in 2014, did British professional rugby teams start to take a serious interest. Jones, however, was enjoying South Africa and stayed put, signing a contract with the Stormers in the Super Rugby tournament – the world’s leading club competition.

So, in the space of 18 months, Jones had gone from being a gap-year Brit with no formal ties to professional rugby to playing against the world’s best players each week. He had arrived on the big stage, following a trajectory that suited him.

The level of competition had escalated rapidly but the tries kept coming. Scotland, by now closely monitoring a player qualified by birth, gave him his spectacular home debut against Australia last autumn – remarkable but not surprising. Finding his feet ­instantly on each new stage is the pattern of his career.

Those two qualities – first, instinctive ­try-scoring; second, a lack of vertigo – are connected. Amid all the jargon of professional sport, perhaps the most important qualities – freshness, ingenuity and the gift of surprise – are undervalued. Yet all of these rely on skills honed over many years – honed, but not dulled.

Shoehorning all young players into rigid, quasi-professional systems long before they are ready comes with risks. First, we seldom hear from the child prodigies who faded away (often damaged psychologically). Many players who are pushed too hard miss their natural learning arc; the narrative of their ambition, or the ambition imposed on them by parents, is often out of step with their physical and psychological growth. Second, systems have a habit of overestimating their contribution: they become blind to outsiders.

In a quiet way, Jones is a case study in evolved education and not just sport: a talented performer who was given time and space to find his voice. The more we learn about talent, as David Epstein demonstrated in The Sports Gene, the clearer it becomes that focusing on champion 11-year-olds decreases the odds of producing champion adults. Modern science has reinforced less frantic and neurotic educational values; variety and fun have their virtues.

Over the long term, put your faith not in battery farming but instead, in Bill Jones’s phrase, in “free-range children”.

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 23 March 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump's permanent revolution