Driven by extremes, Mideast plays out violent roles

The cheerful man with the white ranger hat seems an unlikely person to enflame passions throughout the Mideast.

But upon close inspection, Gershon Salomon's hat has a map that pictures Syria, Jordan, and Egypt's Sinai Peninsula as parts of Israel. And what is even more explosive, the tiny movement he leads has embarked on a series of initiatives aimed at dismantling the 1,300-year-old mosques in al-Haram al-Sharif, the Noble Sanctuary that is Islam's third holiest shrine. In their place, they intend to build a third Jewish Temple, on the spot where Jewish temples were destroyed in 586 BC and AD 70 by the Babylonians and the Romans, respectively.

None of this is new to the Israeli or Palestinian decisionmakers who have grappled with the deadly antics of Mr. Salomon's Temple Mount and Land of Israel Faithful in recent years. And yet on Sunday, when Salomon organized his latest symbolic action to rebuild the Temple, each side simply played out parts in a blood-stained march of folly.

By foreseeing but not averting a clash, Israel and the Palestinians underscored the extent to which the violence between them is now on a type of automatic pilot, resulting as much from force of habit as active malice. That augurs poorly for prospects of an end any time soon to the 10 months of fighting.

Indeed, the situation deteriorated further on Tuesday, when Israeli army helicopters fired missiles into a Hamas office in the West Bank town of Nablus. Two small children, two Hamas leaders, and four others were killed in the deadliest incident since a US-backed cease-fire went into effect June 13.

But the fact that no one was killed in Jerusalem Sunday, and "only" 35 people, including 15 policemen, were injured was of only partial comfort, since all the pieces are in place for a fresh confrontation during the next perceived Israeli threat to the shrines. Police stormed the mosque compound after Palestinians enraged by reports Salomon's group was threatening the mosques hurled stones at Jewish worshippers below them at the Western Wall.

Salomon certainly plans to be back with his several-dozen followers. It is all part of a mission he has taken upon himself since Israel occupied the Temple Mount along with the rest of East Jerusalem during the 1967 Middle East war.

He is convinced that the Muslims there are occupiers, having come "only" in the 7th century, and that the mosques "must be dismantled and rebuilt in Mecca, where they belong."

For Salomon, says Gershom Gorenberg, author of a recent book about the Temple Mount, building the temple "can stand for the ultimate realization of the Jewish return to the land of Israel, to a glorious past."

Salomon was severely injured by a Syrian tank in 1967, and his brush with death, he says, prompted him to devote his life to the cause of the temple.

He heaps scorn upon Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon for adhering to the Israeli policy since 1967 that gives Muslim clerics autonomy on the mount, and restricts Jewish prayer to the nearby Western Wall.

The powder-keg potential of those seeking to build a new temple stems not from their numbers, although in recent years the idea of Jewish prayer on the mount has gained wider support among Jewish settlers. It emanates from the symbolic resonance of al-Haram al-Sharif/the Temple Mount, which touches on the core identities of Palestinians and Israelis. Israel occupied the compound during the 1967 war and annexed it to its capital, Jerusalem, amid a wave of nationalist intoxication that the modern state of Israel had been reunited with its ancient spiritual capital, the very sources of Jewish nationhood. For Palestinians, meanwhile, the Haram "represents the history, civilization, and destiny of Palestinians as Muslims," in the words of Khalil Shikaki, director of the Palestinian Center for Policy and Survey Research.

After decades of mounting distrust, starting with a fire set in the Haram's Aksa mosque by an Australian tourist in 1968, most Palestinians have become convinced that Israel intends to destroy Aksa and its neighbor, the Dome of the Rock, and build a temple in their place, according to Mr. Shikaki. That is why any perceived threat to the area resonates widely, as was the case when then-Likud-party-leader Sharon visited the mount last September, a move that was followed the next day by the Israeli security forces' fatal shooting of seven Palestinian demonstrators at the site. The violence that ensued continues to this day.

As far back as October 1990, Salomon announced that he was bringing a cornerstone of the temple to the mount, just as he planned to do on Sunday. On the earlier occasion, as on Sunday, police prevented Salomon from coming to the mount, and he was forced to conduct a ceremony nearby. But the mere rumor of activity by Salomon brought thousands of Muslims to the Haram and touched off stonethrowing against worshippers at the Western Wall. About 20 Palestinians were killed by Israeli police.

"It's a known script, the beginning and the end are known, the only thing you don't know are how many killed and wounded there will be," said Ra'anan Gissin, a spokesman for Mr. Sharon.

Gissin argues that the reason there are clashes at the site is Arab incitement against Israel. Israel, he says, has no intention of harming any of the mosques, but the Palestinians propagate that idea to gain wider support in the Arab world.

Hatem Abdel-Kader, a Palestinian legislator, says the violence could have been averted had Israel barred the faithful from holding any gathering. Gissin terms the faithful a "fringe" group, but says they have a democratic right to present their views as long as they don't engage in incitement.

In Gorenberg's view, the mount will continue to be susceptible to eruptions until Israel and the Palestinians have a serious dialogue about it. He concedes that now is not an optimal time for that, but adds: "There has to be a negotiated agreement on the status of this spot. It is difficult, but the consequences of not having one are clear."