The Dead Sea and the Jordan River. Barbara Kreiger

       This book is a publication of

      Indiana University Press

      Office of Scholarly Publishing

      Herman B Wells Library 350

      1320 East 10th Street

      Bloomington, Indiana 47405 USA

       iupress.indiana.edu

      Copyright © 1988, 1997, 2016 by Barbara Kreiger

      Portions of this book were originally published in 1988 as Living Waters: Myth, History, and Politics of the Dead Sea by The Continuum Publishing Company, New York and in 1997 as The Dead Sea: Myth, History, and Politics by University Press of New England, Hanover, NH

      All rights reserved

      No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The Association of American University Presses’ Resolution on Permissions constitutes the only exception to this prohibition.

      The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48–1992.

       Manufactured in the United States of America

       Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

      Names: Kreiger, Barbara, author.

      Title: The Dead Sea and the Jordan River / Barbara Kreiger.

      Description: Bloomington ; Indianapolis : Indiana University Press, [2016] |

      Includes bibliographical references and index.

      Identifiers: LCCN 2015038819 |

      ISBN 9780253019363 (cl : alk. paper) |

      ISBN 9780253019523 (pb : alk. paper) |

      ISBN 9780253019592 (eb)

      Subjects: LCSH: Dead Sea (Israel and Jordan)—History. | Jordan

      River—History.

      Classification: LCC DS110.D38 K725 2016 |

      DDC 956.94—dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015038819

      1 2 3 4 5 21 20 19 18 17 16

      FOR MY SONS,

      Saul Lelchuk and Daniel Lelchuk

      FOR MY BROTHER,

      Michael N. Kreiger, and in his memory

      IN MEMORY OF MY FATHER,

      Samuel Kreiger

      IN MEMORY OF MY NEPHEW,

      Adam Marc Kreiger

      PREFACE

      More than two decades have passed since I first wrote parts of this book. It seems contradictory to say at the same time that nothing has changed and much has changed, and yet that paradox is an accurate reflection of the environmental and political developments that determine the condition of the Jordan River and the Dead Sea. We despair at lack of movement, then recharge ourselves hopefully when events signal progress, understanding it is the latter outlook that propels activists and residents in their pursuit of environmental cooperation and justice.

      Few bodies of water can lay claim to geographical and chemical uniqueness and few can be said to have provoked curiosity and even passion in travelers, geographers, and scientists, not for mere centuries but for millennia. The Dead Sea is such a place. One finds descriptions of its peculiar properties in the works of ancient writers; one hears it reviled in the accounts of medieval pilgrims; and one sees it enthusiastically studied by early and modern explorers.

      What is the attraction of this salty reservoir? What secrets does it hold that two centuries of serious investigation have been required to fathom them? This book, in part, traces the course of Dead Sea and Jordan River exploration. That course has not been routine, for the environment is forbidding, the Jordan River a riddle, and the Dead Sea often misrepresented. The region had been subjected for many centuries to hyperbolic pronouncements, and the first serious investigators were confronted with tales that were at times more impediment than tool. Yet explorers of the Dead Sea and Jordan River have contributed important if only partially told chapters in the history of the Holy Land. It would be difficult to exaggerate the wealth of information contained in their accounts. And for all their erudition, these narratives are highly readable and often beautifully written records of deeply felt experience.

      The Dead Sea is not merely the lowest place on the face of the earth: at 1400 feet below sea level it is the lowest by far. The second lowest is variously given as Lake Assal in Djibouti or the Turfan Depression in China, both at approximately 500 feet below sea level. The lowest place in the western hemisphere is Death Valley, in California, at minus 280 feet, or one-fifth the depth of the Dead Sea. The question regularly asked is how the Dead Sea got to be that way, and I try to make some sense of the stones and strata in order to piece together that strange geological tale. The readjustment of one’s inner clock to accommodate a time span of millions of years results in a new way of looking at the lake and its environs. Rocks are no longer mere rocks but details of something akin to facial features; the Dead Sea comes to life, and one sees why early travelers were prone to personifying it. There is something decidedly human about the shores of the Dead Sea and the banks of the Jordan River, whose stories are inseparable, perhaps because such an important part of our early collective life was played out there. Beyond that, the uniqueness, beauty, and fragility of this environment charge us with the responsibility of defining our relationship with the natural world.

      That relationship has far-reaching implications, for it happens that the fate of the Dead Sea and Jordan River is inextricably bound up with the daily lives of those who share it. Monumental demands have been placed on these waters to give, produce, and contribute, and those demands have had environmental and political costs, as we will see. Nevertheless, there have long been voices—Israeli, Jordanian, and Palestinian—that staunchly maintain the Dead Sea might serve as an instrument of peace. That view has generally been seen as improbable, and perhaps it is, given that as far back as ancient days the lake’s resources have been frequently contested. But to deny the possibility is to give in all too readily to the obvious, and if there is one thing we can say about the story of the Dead Sea and Jordan River, it is that it is anything but predictable.

      When you stand on one bank of the Jordan River, you could fairly leap across to the other. And when you gaze out at the Dead Sea, you can’t distinguish Arab waves from Jewish ones as they heedlessly wash over the fluid international boundary that even a map cannot depict persuasively. The other side is less than ten miles away, and as you look across you cannot help but think that the notion of peaceful cooperation is sensible. Reason suggests that it is not harmony that is inapt, but discord;