by J. T. Rogers
PALESTINIAN CITIZEN (In Arabic): [Death to Israel!]
MONA: We were in a back alley there when we walked into it.
PALESTINIAN CITIZEN (In Arabic): [Long live Arafat!]
MONA: A crowd, seething. Soldiers rushing.
PALESTINIAN CITIZEN (In Arabic): [Long live Arafat!]
MONA: Terje and I crouched behind an upturned car as bodies fell. And then we saw it.
Two boys facing each other, one in uniform, one in jeans, weapons in hand, hate flowing between them. But their faces—and we both see this—their faces are exactly the same. The same fear. The same desperate desire to be anywhere but here. To not be doing this, to this other boy. And there, in that moment, for us, it began.
Later. Terje and Mona at the UN Club in the Gaza Strip.
MONA: Terje, be serious.
LARSEN: I am beyond serious.
MONA: The plan you are proposing is not possible.
LARSEN: No, it is not probable. But if there is even a two-percent chance, how can we not take it? Mona. What we just witnessed . . . would you not try anything to give those two boys a different narrative?
(He crosses to her. Hand to her face.)
Step back and look at the world, my love. The old order is falling away. The unthinkable is becoming thinkable. In our lifetime there will not be another moment like this. This is our chance to make a difference.
(They stare at each other.)
MONA: Fine. Go ahead and try.
LARSEN: No, no. We are partners, in all things. I cannot do this without you. After all, who am I? But you, my darling, you are Mona Juul, jewel of the Norwegian Foreign Service. Who possesses the most . . .
(Each word with a kiss) beautiful . . . powerful . . . Rolodex. Let us try, my love. Together.
MONA (To us): Tell me you would have said no.
Yossi Beilin, forties, appears and speaks outward to us.
BEILIN: It’s a circus! Madness!
MONA (To us): Yossi Beilin. Rising star of the Israeli Labor Party, right arm and protégé of the great Shimon Peres.
BEILIN: These multinational negotiations have gone on for two years.
MONA: Yes, Yossi, I know.
BEILIN: Madrid, Washington—
MONA AND BEILIN: Now London—
BEILIN: A hundred and sixty delegates, all saying one thing in the room, something else to the cameras, and something completely different to their own people!
MONA (To us): One month later. A tandoori restaurant. Tel Aviv. Israel is days away from parliamentary elections. Beilin is running for office. But I push and he agrees to meet briefly with Terje.
Lunchtime. Beilin and Larsen at a table together. A waiter brings food.
LARSEN: What you are describing sounds like a farce.
BEILIN: It’s more than a farce, it’s bullshit!
Our government refuses to negotiate directly with the PLO, so they are not at the table. But, of course, every Palestinian at the table has been hand-picked by the PLO.
(As he vents on, we see Ahmed Qurie, fifties, in a dark suit, his visage grim.)
Every day, Ahmed Qurie, the PLO’s Finance Minister, is in a hotel across from the negotiations, on the phone, telling the Palestinian delegation exactly what to say.
Yesterday, the two sides spent twelve hours haggling over one word! I don’t know whether to laugh or—AAAH!
(Beilin doubles over in pain.)
LARSEN: Are you all right?
BEILIN: Yes, I’m just—AAAH!
(Sitting up, unsteady) My apologies. Spicy food does not agree with me. Whenever I eat anything more adventurous than gefilte fish my body rebels.
LARSEN: You should have told me. We could have gone / somewhere else.
BEILIN: It’s no use. I can’t give up the idea that suddenly everything will change and my stomach will be my friend. So, you see, I am dreaming of two peace plans simultaneously. (Shaking his head) We are racing toward a precipice. The Intifada has been going on in Gaza for five years. The Palestinians are killing our settlers, and our soldiers, and themselves; our army is shooting back and children are getting killed; and it is all on CNN and it is a fucking disaster. In Europe they are calling us Nazis. In Europe. Where it has only been fifty years. Every day, more and more of the world turns against us, but all we do is sit at that fucking negotiating table—
LARSEN: Where you will achieve nothing because your negotiating model is fundamentally flawed.
BEILIN: Exactly! That’s what I / keep saying!
LARSEN: You are trapped in a procedure that is rigid, impersonal, / and incapable of building trust.
BEILIN: Yes. Yes. I agree—completely!
But this is what the Americans want us to do.
LARSEN: And so you must do it.
But, also, establish a second channel, built on the exact opposite model. Not grand pronouncements between governments, but intimate discussions between people. Held somewhere isolated—totally—where you and the PLO can meet, alone, and talk.
This model, I can oversee; this place, I can arrange.
(Beilin stares at him.)
BEILIN: How?
LARSEN: The resources of my institute Fafo, my expertise: all at your disposal. Discretion guaranteed.
(Silence. Then:)
BEILIN (Excited now): This . . . this could be amazing. / This could potentially unblock and get things moving.
LARSEN (Equally so): I think so, yes. A tributary. To feed the main channel.
(Beilin has another fit.)
BEILIN (Fighting through it): If we win the election, Shimon will be Foreign Minister and I will be his Deputy. It is illegal for any Israeli official to speak to the PLO. But. Someone unofficial.
LARSEN: Who you and Peres would choose.
BEILIN: That you could introduce to—
LARSEN: Exactly what I’m thinking, yes.
BEILIN: If we win.
MONA (To us): They did.
A hotel suite in London. Mona is with Ahmed Qurie—as ever in a formal dark suit.
QURIE: My eldest daughter is named Mona. She is the light of my life. This bodes well for our meeting.
MONA: Thank you for making time to meet me, Mr. Qurie.
QURIE: Of course. Norway has always been a robust supporter of the Palestinian people. And I have heard greatly of you and have long wished to see you in the flesh.
(Beat) Perhaps that is not the correct / use of this word.
MONA: No, it’s fine. Understood.
I’m so pleased our work brings us to London at the same time.
QURIE: Ah, well, you are here for work, but alas I am here for foolishness.
(Pointing) In that hotel, across, they are negotiating for the future of Palestine. Yet I, who am the Finance Minister of the PLO, I am banned! Barred! Blocked from the very table where the economic future of my people is to be determined!
MONA: And I would like to talk to you about / that very situation.
QURIE (On a roll now): Meanwhile, in Gaza, our children throw the very stones of their houses and are returned by the bullets of the occupying—
MONA: Mr. Qurie.
You don’t need to give me the speech.
QURIE: Of course. You are on our side.
MONA: And theirs.
QURIE: Ms. Juul. You have spent some time in my region and your intentions are no doubt cloaked in virtue, but perhaps there are still factors you do not understand.
MONA: Do you mean I don’t understand that your Chairman Arafat’s recent backing of Saddam Hussein in the Gulf War so infuriated your now-former Arab allies that they expelled ninety thousand Palestinian guest workers, thereby creating such a financial catastrophe for your people that now the PLO is stuck in Tunis, unable to pay even your electricity bills? Or do I not understand that without additional support from my government your organization will slide one step closer to irrelevancy?
(They stare at each other.)
QURIE: I see that you are, what is the phrase?, irritat
ingly well informed.
MONA: Tell me how much you need and I will do what I can. But I want you to do one thing.
QURIE: Of course. For you I will—
MONA: Not for me. For you.
There is a man being sent to London. For you to meet.
QURIE: Who is this man?
Beilin and Larsen speak out to us.
BEILIN: Terje, I’ve picked the man I’m sending.
(Yair Hirschfeld, forties, unkempt and sloppily dressed, appears.)
Yair Hirschfeld, Professor of Economics.
HIRSCHFELD (To us): A rabbi and a Buddhist priest are on a plane.
The rabbi turns to the Buddhist priest and says: “I will never forgive your people for Pearl Harbor.”
The priest stares at him. “What are you talking about? I’m Chinese! I had nothing to do with that!”
The rabbi shrugs. “Chinese, Japanese, what’s the difference?”
The priest leans in.
“I will never forgive your people for the Titanic.” “The Titanic!” shouts the rabbi. “That was an iceberg!”
The priest shrugs: “Iceberg, Goldberg, what’s the difference?”
LARSEN (To Beilin): Really?
BEILIN: Trust me, he’s the man for the job.
LARSEN: It’s just, he’s a bit, if I may say, déclassé.
BEILIN: Well, he’s from Haifa.
A shift. Larsen and Mona alone.
MONA: Stay with Ahmed Qurie in his hotel suite. I’ll be with Hirschfeld in a room nearby. When I give the signal, they will enter a third room.
Qurie appears, agitated. He speaks outward as Mona continues to speak to Larsen.
QURIE: I have set aside but a few minutes for this meeting.
MONA: Qurie is not to know what the conversation will be about—for his own safety.
Qurie’s hotel suite; Larsen alone with the anxious PLO Minister. At the same time, Hirschfeld and Mona in another hotel room; the professor riven with anxiety.
QURIE: The minutes are ticking, Mr. Larsen. What is the delay?
HIRSCHFELD: Look at my hands. I can’t make them stop.
Can I have some water?
MONA: Dr. Hirschfeld, I think you should go in.
LARSEN (To Qurie): Please, you must relax. Everything will be fine.
HIRSCHFELD: It’s one thing to think about doing this to, to—for years—but to actually—I really would like some water.
MONA: After. I promise. You must go in.
QURIE: If he extends his hand first I will not shake it. I am of ministerial rank. If there is a shaking of hands, I will initiate.
HIRSCHFELD: I am not here as my government. He knows this, right? It is against the law, Ms. Juul, for any Israeli official / to meet with the PLO.
MONA: Yes, yes, he knows.
Now, you know exactly what you are going to say, yes?
HIRSCHFELD: Yes.
LARSEN: Good, right; here we go.
(Qurie does not move.)
What’s wrong?
QURIE (A moment, then . . .): I have never met an Israeli. Face-to-face.
(As one, Hirschfeld and Qurie step forward. They are alone. Staring at each other.)
HIRSCHFELD: Hello.
QURIE: Hello.
(Neither moves.)
HIRSCHFELD: London is very cold this time of year.
QURIE: Yes.
(Stillness. Silence.)
HIRSCHFELD: And wet.
QURIE: Yes.
HIRSCHFELD: Not like home.
QURIE: I have not been home since 1967 when every man, woman, and child in my village was forced to flee our homeland before the advancing hordes of Zionism.
HIRSCHFELD: Ah.
QURIE (Beat, then . . .): But I remember well the warmth there this time of year.
HIRSCHFELD: I read your latest paper.
QURIE (Surprised): Ah.
HIRSCHFELD: I thought it excellent.
QURIE: Thank you.
HIRSCHFELD: Economic cooperation between our peoples: I could not agree more.
QURIE: Yes, it is the only way for us to move forward.
HIRSCHFELD: Because, God knows, the American-sponsored talks going on here in London are going nowhere.
QURIE (Waving his hand): The dialogue of the deaf. Talk at, never to. / Never listening.
HIRSCHFELD: Yes, I agree. Completely.
I have written a paper of my own, demonstrating the benefits of such economic cooperation. Using a gravity model, I establish the possibility of substantial GDP growth / for both economies, resulting from the removal of trade barriers.
QURIE: Yes. Yes. Substantial GDP growth, for both sides. In my work, I have reached the same conclusion.
HIRSCHFELD: Perhaps if you could read it. Give me your professional feedback.
QURIE: I would be honored.
MONA (To us): They spoke for two hours. I was forced to knock.
QURIE: This has been . . . fruitful.
HIRSCHFELD: I agree.
QURIE: You have been most generous with your thoughts.
HIRSCHFELD: We should meet again. To discuss. Economics. The future.
(Memorized) I’m told if we were to meet in Oslo, friends would prove . . . sorry . . . (Correcting and reciting again) . . . I’m told if we were to meet in Oslo, friends would provide us solitude and privacy and anything else we would require.
(They stare at each other.)
QURIE: Who are you?
HIRSCHFELD: I am just a professor of economics who supports dialogue with the PLO.
QURIE: But on whose authority do you speak?
HIRSCHFELD: I have no authority.
QURIE: Then you are not a man with whom I can / afford to meet again.
HIRSCHFELD: But I am having breakfast tomorrow morning in Tel Aviv with my dear, good friend Yossi Beilin. I am so looking forward to telling him about my trip to London.
QURIE: Yossi Beilin.
HIRSCHFELD: Yes.
QURIE: The new Israeli Deputy Foreign Minister.
HIRSCHFELD: Yes.
QURIE: You are saying Beilin speaks to you?
HIRSCHFELD: Where you and I come from, is that not what friends do?
The Larsen flat. Evening.
Larsen and Mona watch a shocked Jan Egeland, thirties, pace as he takes in the news.
EGELAND: My God! I mean, I mean—my God!
MONA (To us): Once again, Jan Egeland, our Deputy Foreign Minister.
LARSEN: No one at my institute knows about this.
MONA: No one else in the Ministry.
Jan, if we set up a meeting, Ahmed Qurie will come as the voice of the PLO.
EGELAND: Mona! There is no voice of the PLO but Arafat’s! Beneath him it’s a labyrinth of backstabbing factions—and you know this!
(Cutting Mona off before she can speak) Who is this Ahmed Qurie? How can you be sure this man has even told Arafat what he is doing?
MONA: Because Terje went to Tunis and spent the day with Arafat.
(Larsen holds up a photo and hands it to Egeland.)
LARSEN: A little commemoration.
EGELAND (Eyes on the photo): My God!
MONA: I wanted to make sure Arafat was fully informed and behind it before I brought this to you.
LARSEN: For a bloodstained terrorist he’s terribly charming.
(As Arafat) “Ah, Mr. Larsen! We must find a way to let a thousand flowers bloom.”
(Himself again) Most of what he says makes no sense, but he says it with great panache.
MONA: The photo—Arafat and Terje—was so the Israelis, too, would know this is legitimate. If we host it, they’re on board.
EGELAND: Yossi Beilin is on board, Mona, who does not have the authority to / authorize such a thing.
LARSEN: Jan. Jan. Yossi told me—to my face—this comes directly from Shimon Peres. The orchestrator of every diplomatic breakthrough the Israelis have ever achieved—he is behind this, absolutely.
(The three of them stare at each other.)
>
MONA: The Minister listens to you, Jan. He trusts you. All we need is his tacit approval.
LARSEN: We will say that my institute, Fafo, is bringing Israeli and Palestinian academics here to Norway for a conference. No one but us will know the truth.
MONA: No diplomatic channels. Regular flights, routes randomly chosen.
If you say no, this conversation never happened.
Isn’t that right, Terje?
LARSEN: Of course. But I’m sure Jan sees the extraordinary—
MONA: Jan can see whatever he wishes.
(To Egeland) This is his call.
(Silence. Then . . .)
EGELAND: Let’s fucking do it.
I’ll get the Old Man to look the other way.
But we tell no one else. And this is not being done through the Ministry.
(To Larsen) Officially this is Fafo’s scheme. If this goes to shit, it’s all on you.
LARSEN: Understood.
EGELAND: A megalomaniac acting on his own.
LARSEN: That makes / complete sense.
EGELAND: A preening, narcissistic dilettante who / loves the sound of his own voice.
LARSEN: I think we’re all clear now, thank you.
EGELAND: Good.
LARSEN: And don’t tell the Americans.
MONA: Terje, what are you talking about? We can’t not tell the Americans.
LARSEN: Tell them what? “Nothing has happened and we thought you should know that”?
MONA: The Americans view the Middle East as theirs. Do you know what their government will do to ours if we are caught meddling without permission?
LARSEN: Mona! How are things going to stay hidden if the Americans are involved? It will be over before it begins. / Look at their record with keeping secrets. Disastrous!
MONA: This is a diplomatic issue, Terje, which is not your concern.
EGELAND: I agree with Terje.
If we’re going to take a risk, let’s take a risk.
When I’m next in Washington, at the State Department, I’ll make a casual mention of what we’re doing. No details; slipped in among other remarks. They won’t pay attention and our hands will be clean.