Given a choice, monsieur the diplomat, between two International Peace Conferences-Kazakhstan for Syria or Paris for the Middle East- which would you prefer? Would you like to plough your brain trying to sort out the Islamist rebels from the plain Islamists, finding someone less brutal to replace Assad and a few factions to support him, resisting pressure from the Russians, Iranians, Turks, Hezbollah and the like? Wouldn’t you rather sit around a table in Paris, rubbing shoulders with distinguished ladies and gentlemen, and repeating that it is urgent to settle the “oldest conflict” by finally implementing the oldest solution: two states side by side in security?
For low ranking journalists that didn’t have the chance to come anywhere near the delegations, “covering” the Conference meant receiving the elevated address of Foreign Affairs Minister Jean-Marc Ayrault who would present the conclusions reached by the diplomats united in a spirit of sincere friendship for the parties to the conflict. (The day after the Conference, that hasn’t generated much interest worldwide, documents in several languages and videos of some speeches were posted on the Ministry site. http://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/fr.)
I easily found a seat in the second row. Most of the people around me were speaking Arabic. I don’t usually cover events in the ministries. My stamping ground is more in the neighborhood of the UPJF, the BNVCA, and defamation hearings at the Palais de Justice. I greeted Gideon Kuntz, didn’t see any familiar faces… until a woman took a seat on my left, turned to me, and said: “I know you.” Right. We met about ten days ago at a party thrown by a journalist friend. Hustle and bustle near the door. The minister will enter any minute. My fellow American gives me some inside information: “A little while ago I was sitting next to a Palestinian. He told me that the father of one of the female soldiers killed in Jerusalem wrote on his Facebook page, ‘What can you expect when we keep them cooped up like that?'” Brushing aside a dozen reactions that tumbled around in my mind, I answered like a good journalist: “Could be. We’d have to verify it.” She shrugs: “It’s Facebook.” And I say to myself: “It’s a Palestinian.” The minister walks in, accompanied by about 15 people that line up along the wall.
Busy taking notes in my red moleskin notebook with my real fountain pen, I don’t even have the fun of observing the audience. Except for the bald head of Harlem Désir, foreign relations secretary of the Socialist party, seated right in front of me. I wished I could remind him of his gallantry that day in 1990 when a momentous wind storm caught us on the top floor of the Arche de la Défense, during an encounter with delegates from Central Europe. Maybe they represented the new democracies? The wind forced open the sliding glass doors and came barreling into the hall. You could see the wind, it was light green and terrifying. After a long wait someone finally came to take us to an elevator that brought us down to an exit at the top of a long flight of stairs. The wind was too strong, it almost blew me away, I grabbed onto Harlem Désir who escorted me all the way to the metro entrance. Those were different times.
Today, too, the times have changed. The arrogant disdain for Israel that marked the first yeas of the century has morphed here into moderate, measured benevolence, all soft and gentle. Everything about the Conference, from the motivation, hopes, and concerns, to the final recommendations is dipped in the honey of sincere egalitarian friendship. Everything is unanimous, they are all united in the same spirit, they all condemned the horrible terror attack in Jerusalem and all forms of violence and incitement to violence. But. But resolution 2334 of the UN Security Council denounced the colonization; this decision is “stamped with international legality, it’s serious.” To show just how serious that condemnation is, the minister used a strange expression: “it is the voice of the world that spoke.”