Canter Bridge

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In an historical moment when the ‘1967 borders’ are referred to as a simple fact—except in the offices of Hamas and their compeers—it is necessary to be reminded that these lines in the sand were the provisional conclusion of six days when blood ran plentifully around and upon them and nothing seemed obvious.

I am always astonished when an Israeli or, say, Egyptian, historian is able to narrate the events of ’67 and ’73 with such dispassionate analysis. Oren has done so and then—to boot—he has written eloquently about June 1967 so as not to require that his reader share his own detailed knowledge of those events.

I was eight years old in 1967, and so I find the personality portraits of Dayan, Nasser, Johnson, Kosygin et al. and the photographic plates in this fine work utterly fascinating.

It’s difficult for those of us who have come of age in a period when America is reflexively viewed as the uncritical enabler of all things Israeli that even in 1967 things were not seen in that light by any of the players.

So much has changed. So much has stayed the same.

Oren is a capable guide for sorting out when, where, and how.