Monday, Oct. 24, 1977

The P.L.O.: Democracy Gone Wild

At private meetings with reporters and diplomats in New York, Farouk Kaddoumi, the de facto foreign minister of the Palestine Liberation Organization, has hinted strongly that his organization is prepared to recognize Israel's right to exist under certain conditions. But back in Beirut, Yasser Arafat's political adviser, Hani Hassan, still insists that "our response must be: no recognition of the state of Israel. Anyone who reconciles himself with the enemy and recognizes the enemy will be eliminated." This constant inconsistency has led U.S. diplomats to adopt what one jokingly calls the five-day rule: "Any P.L.O. statement not contradicted within five days is considered authoritative."

Arab friends of the P.L.O. explain away the bewildering variations in its spokesmen's positions partly as a word game and partly as a form of psychological warfare in response to Israeli statements on the Middle East. But they also reflect another reality: the Palestinian movement is a barely yoked anarchy, and P.L.O. Chairman Yasser Arafat is subject to a constituency that can usually only agree to disagree. He is merely first among 3 million or so Palestinian equals, scattered across a dozen countries and linked together by a host of overlapping groups. Arafat persuades by force of personality; rarely does he command. Some say he has survived as leader after nine years mostly because he must spend his time moderating instead of moving too far front.

The P.L.O. is an example of Arab democracy gone wild. Its largest member organization, Arafat's Al Fatah, is frequently at odds with George Habash's Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, whose Marxist cadre seeks to overthrow not only Israel but also conservative Arab governments like Saudi Arabia--Arafat's bankroller. Both Fatah and Habash's group have had bitter quarrels with four smaller but vociferous members of the P.L.O.--the Popular Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine, the Popular Front--General Command (now split into pro-Iraq-Libya and pro-Syria factions), the Syrian-dominated Al Saiqa and the Iraq-based Arab Liberation Front.

The P.L.O. with a view to statehood has set up the Palestine National Council, a 293-person parliament whose members range from fedayeen and delegates from refugee groups to students and intellectuals. The council includes such disparate personalities as Abu Daoud, accused of masterminding the 1972 Munich massacre, Father Ibrahim Ayad, a Roman Catholic priest, and Edward Said, a U.S. citizen of Palestinian forebears who is professor of English and comparative literature at Columbia University. Between the National Council sessions, the P.L.O. gets strategy guidance from a 40-member Central Council, which is also notorious for rancorous disputes.

In moments of extreme crisis for the P.L.O., debate is sometimes suspended and democracy begins (or ends) at the barrel of a gun. During the recent mini war in southern Lebanon (TIME, Oct. 3), for example, Arafat's Fatah troops accepted a cease-fire designed to halt fighting between Palestinians and the Lebanese Christians. The P.F.L.P. refused and continued to lob shells toward Israel. Arafat solved the problem: he ordered his men to arrest 14 P.F.L.P officers until Habash agreed to the truce.

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