Moshe Ben Porat, the oldest on the kibbutz at thirty-five, had kept silent until now. “There will be war, no matter what they decide. The Arabs have already declared they won’t accept a partition of Palestine under any condition. So, if we win in New York, they’re not going to accept the result. And if we lose—” He paused a long time. “If we lose, we’re not going to surrender either. That would surely mean we’d go on forever without our own state, a persecuted minority inside Arab Palestine. Or does someone here see things differently?” Judith stared at her fingernails. Violence, she thought,
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