Can the United States use its leverage over Israel to stop the war in Gaza? Does it have significant leverage to begin with?
To some, those questions are downright ridiculous because the answers are so self-evident. In a passionate column this week, Mehdi Hasan, the former MSNBC broadcaster who is now a columnist for The Guardian, wrote that to claim otherwise is to dabble in "disingenuous nonsense." He highlighted a particular time, in 1982, when former President Ronald Reagan got on the phone with former Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin and pressured him to stop bombing Beirut, Lebanon. The tactic worked. The Israeli airstrikes ended immediately and Israeli ground forces would soon redeploy from the Lebanese capital further south. The Israeli army would remain in southern Lebanon until 2000, when it finally withdrew after concluding that maintaining a buffer-zone near the Israel-Lebanon border in the face of Hezbollah guerilla attacks was too high a cost.
If Reagan was brave and bold enough to be forceful, why not President Joe Biden?
It's not like he doesn't have any levers to pull. The U.S. is Israel's primary political backer in international bodies, frequently employs its veto to defend Israel at the United Nations Security Council, provides Israel with more than $3 billion in military aid every single year and furnishes Israel with the best weapons (like the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter) in the U.S. arsenal. Whereas most of the world views the Israeli occupation of the West Bank as illegal under international law, successive U.S. administrations, Biden's included, continues to point out that an Israeli withdrawal from those lands can only happen within the context of a negotiated agreement that takes Israel's legitimate security concerns into account. The U.S. reiterated this position yet again at the International Court of Justice this week. This came less than 24 hours after Washington vetoed a Security Council Resolution demanding an immediate end to the war in Gaza.
Despite the extensive U.S. backing, however, one can't shake the feeling that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is taking all of it for granted. For one, Netanyahu seems to care more about catering to the demands of his ultra right-wing base than about taking the recommendations of its closest partner seriously. Biden's protestations that Israel's conduct in Gaza has been "over the top" and Secretary of State Antony Blinken's contention that civilian casualties (now approaching 30,000) are "far too many" don't seem to be registering. Rafah, the Gaza Strip's southernmost city where more than half of the enclave's population now resides as refugees, is in the Israel Defense Force's crosshairs and could see an offensive as soon as March 10 if Hamas doesn't release the remaining hostages. This could occur despite U.S. officials repeatedly urging Israel to hold off on action in Rafah until civilians are evacuated. Even basic flour arrangements into Gaza have been obstructed by ministers in Netanyahu's cabinet who, frankly, don't have any sympathy whatsoever for the Palestinians.
Netanyahu is undermining U.S. policy in the region and takes pleasure in publicizing his disagreements to score domestic political points with his base. The Biden administration argues that the Palestinian Authority (PA) is the most logical entity to take control of Gaza once Hamas is ousted; Netanyahu rejects a PA role in any post-Hamas governing arrangement. The White House stresses that, ultimately, the best way to ensure peace and tranquility for Israelis and Palestinians alike is for the two sides to get back to the table and negotiate a final status agreement leading to the establishment of a Palestinian state. Netanyahu, meanwhile, claims that granting the Palestinians a state of their own would be tantamount to rewarding Hamas for perpetrating its terrorist massacre on Oct. 7. Even if Netanyahu wanted to cooperate in such a scheme—and he clearly doesn't—the fact that he owes ultranationalists for his political survival means Middle East peace talks will continue to be dead in the water for as long as he's in office.
Frustration in the White House is rising. Even as it vetoed an immediate ceasefire at the Security Council this week, the U.S. submitted a draft resolution that "underscores its support for a temporary ceasefire in Gaza as soon as practicable," condemns language from some Israeli ministers about displacing Gaza's population, and warns that an Israeli offensive in Rafah should not proceed under current circumstances. Two weeks earlier, the administration published new policy guidance that requires the secretary of state and the defense secretary to obtain credible assurances from any nation who receives U.S. arms that it will comply with international humanitarian law. While Israel obviously wasn't mentioned explicitly, it's hard to ignore the context.
To proponents of conditioning U.S. military aid to Israel, all of these initiatives are too little, too late. They come with too many loopholes and aren't as sufficiently tough as they need to be. Even the restrictions and obligations proposed in the new policy memorandum can be waived during an emergency, which is an entirely subjective category left to the president's discretion.
Yet the mere fact that we're even having this discussion at all is proof of how quickly the debate over the U.S.' Israel policy has moved in just the last four months.
Daniel R. DePetris is a fellow at Defense Priorities and a syndicated foreign affairs columnist at the Chicago Tribune.
The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.
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