have guaranteed Dayan the position of heir apparent even after Rap had rejoined Mapai, for Mapai basically is a vast union of office-holders, big and small, from cabinet ministers to local labor exchange chiefs. There are no clear-cut permanent factions within the party; groups align themselves according to passing interests. Decisions are reached by a vague, ill-defined process, filtering through many institutions, until some kind of consensus is found. In this climate, a man like the Minister of Finance, Pinchas Sapir, has by far more chance to succeed Eshkol than a lone wolf like Dayan.
* * *
This, then, is the Establishment, uniting ideology with vested interest, Zionist dogma with party finances, heartfelt beliefs with patronage-and rarely is there a clear dividing line. The Establishment has withstood the winds of change, even as a community of just over half a million became a sovereign state of more than two and a half million, with all the trappings of modern statehood.
For anyone who believes in the necessity of deep structural change in order to ensure the future of Israel, this could be a very pessimistic picture. Indeed, only three years ago it was an axiom in Israel that no new political force had even a ghost of a chance to raise its head. Yet, as Ilya Ehrenburg has said, "You could cover the whole world with asphalt, but sooner or later green grass would break through." The Establishment, while extremely powerful, long ago lost real contact with the people, especially with the younger generation. Its inability to solve the real problems of the country, and especially the Arab problem, has become obvious. The decay of Zionism is making the Establishment obsolete.
The first blade of grass peeping through the asphalt is the new party to which I belong. During the 1965 elections, something happened which was considered impossible even the day before: for the first time since the