The case for a three-state solution

In the closing months of his first presidential term, Donald Trump pushed hard for an Israel/Palestine deal. Although well-intentioned, it was widely disparaged – perhaps unfairly – as unworkable, and there remained little opportunity to refine the terms before he left office. But he now has plenty of time to impose a sensible settlement. His rollercoaster approach to international relations may not be to everyone’s taste. Yet flagellation and flattery, bombast and bribery, and hard-cop-soft-cop may be just what is needed here.

The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan would be a key player in any such deal. For almost its whole lifetime, the “Palestine” Mandate included Transjordania, the region east of the River Jordan. The British had initially earmarked the whole territory of the Mandate for the Jewish national homeland, but, to the despair of the Zionists, from the Mandate’s very inception they instead devolved autonomous control of Transjordania to the Hashemite Emir Abdullah. In April 1946, the Emirate was finally severed from the Mandate when the old League of Nations, at its last meeting, recognised the new Kingdom (“Transjordan” until 1949, when it took control of the West Bank).

That was the real partition. Jordan was the Mandate’s Arab legacy state. Britain’s Labour government then washed their hands of the problem of the Mandate’s western remnant and dumped it on the United Nations, which, in Resolution 181 of November 29, 1947, voted to sub-partition it. However, by an ironic twist of fate, Israel nonetheless attained sovereignty over the whole remnant. This was through the default operation of a long-established principle of customary international law known as uti possidetis juris.

The rule was automatically triggered by the failure of the Arab community’s leadership to declare a state of their own in the areas allocated under 181.

They knew that doing so alongside Israel would signal implicit agreement with the resolution, and they wanted the lot. But the decision had consequences. It left a sovereignty vacuum in two-thirds of the Mandate’s remnant territory, and as Israel was the only state which came into being on the critical date of the Mandate’s expiry – May 14, 1948 – its sovereignty automatically filled out the vacuum to absorb the whole remnant.

By the end of the 1948 war, Israel could probably have taken control of the Gaza Strip and the West Bank salient with comparative ease. But it preferred to concede their occupation, respectively, by Egypt and Jordan under the terms of the 1949 Rhodes Armistice, retaining sovereignty in absentia. Although it seized them in 1967, its statesmen have usually been reticent about making express claims of sovereignty for fear of alienating friendly powers. Most recently, Prime Minister Netanyahu vetoed moves in the Knesset to ratify Israel’s sovereignty over substantial areas of the West Bank after Donald Trump and J.D. Vance voiced stern warnings that it would jeopardise the Abraham Accords.

Yet decades ago, U.S. policy had been more indulgent of Israel’s sovereignty rights over at least some of the West Bank. In 1982, echoing the sentiments of Britain’s Lord Caradon at the UN in 1967, President Ronald Reagan movingly declared that he would never ask the bulk of Israel’s population ever again to live in a territory barely ten miles wide at its narrowest point, within artillery range of hostile Arab armies. Then, in the wake of the Oslo Accords, the terms of the Jordan/Israel peace treaty brokered by Bill Clinton in 1994 expressly recognised in Article 3 that the “international boundary between Israel and Jordan”, defined in Annex 1(a) as the River Jordan and the Dead Sea, was “the permanent, secure and recognised international boundary between Israel and Jordan, without prejudice to the status of any territories,” and as such was “inviolable.” The “without prejudice” saving merely reflected the possibility of an eventual negotiated settlement over sovereignty between Israel and the Palestinian Authority, envisaged under Oslo. The treaty could not have enunciated a clearer acknowledgement of Israel’s sovereignty over the West Bank, not merely that it was an occupier.

But Israel does not need the whole of the West Bank as a bulwark against geographic and strategic strangulation and can afford to let some of it go in the interests of compromise.

For eighteen years, the Arabs of the West Bank thrived under Jordanian rule. Trump has the clout to restore those barmier days, referencing the 1987 framework agreement signed by Foreign Minister Shimon Peres and King Hussain (but sadly vetoed by Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir).

He should lean on Israel and Jordan to agree to a transfer to Jordan of the densest areas of Arab habitation within a boundary line carefully woven round a single contiguous segment. Far better to be Jordanian than citizens of a nominally independent landlocked enclave misnamed “Palestine”.

Why misnamed? “Palestine” self-evidently comes from the Philistines, a non-Semitic warmongering tribe from the Aegean who settled in the coastal region around Gaza and harassed the Israelites. After crushing the Bar Kokhba revolt in CE 135, the Romans renamed the former province of Judea Palestina in a mocking symbol of their triumph over the rebellious Hebrews. Now destined for an era of post-Hamas reconstruction under the aegis of Trump’s Board of Peace, Gaza could become an eminently viable conurbation-state named, with historical aptness – yes – Palestine.

It may now be within Donald Trump’s grasp to inaugurate the ultimate three-state solution.

• David Wolchover is a barrister