Late this summer, Ariel Sharon, the former Israeli general and defense minister, toured the United States to raise private money for an organization dedicated to expanding the Israeli presence on the West Bank. As he wrapped up his trip in New York, Sharon was seriously upstaged by word of secret negotiations that had finally borne fruit. The Israeli government and the PLO had forged the way for limited interim sovereignty and mutual recognition.

By a series of coincidences, I turned up at a small reception in Sharon's honor the night after the announcement. I had no illusions that a hawk like Sharon would be at all pleased with the development. Yet I was eager to hear the rhetoric that Sharon would have to summon up to counter the agreement; it was, of course, a step so momentous and unexpected that it would be difficult to condemn out of hand.

Yet hard-liners like Sharon were not about to take this sitting down. The general himself noted with great pride that mass protests met the Cabinet meeting that had been called to discuss the proposed Gaza-Jericho First Plan.

I was particularly struck by one of General Sharon's statements. "Who could have imagined, even one year ago," he wailed, red-faced with indignation, "that Israel would deal with the PLO?" Change the intonation, subtract the angry epithets ("a gang of terrorists") that Sharon attached at the end of the phrase, and it's exactly the message we're hearing from architects and supporters of the Gaza-Jericho plan.

These dual meanings bespeak the two perspectives from which Israel and its backers regard the recent entente. There is one essential difference between the accord's Labor sponsors and its Likud opponents: The latter fail to recognize that the uneasy standoff in the Middle East, though it has proven durable, has an essentially temporary character.

As Sharon shrilled for contributions, "strategic depth" was his most prominent rallying cry. A Jewish-settled, Israeli-controlled West Bank would provide the necessary physical cushion to absorb the blow of any military thrust against Israel. He saw no irony in reassuring his audience that the West Bank settlements are valuable and truly livable, while simultaneously designating their inhabitants as mere cannon fodder. To use citizens in such a way is evidence of a very odd logic--an ad hoc obstructionism which offers no prospect of a decisive issue.

And in an age of high-technology weapons proliferation, the cry of strategic depth has become a swan song. Sharon cited the recent wave of Katyusha rocket attacks on northern Israel as a preview of the type of activity (this time in range of major cities) that Palestinians would undertake given any autonomy on the West Bank and Gaza. But the short-range Katyushas of today will very soon be medium range SCUDS from North Korea. In the face of advancing technology, a country whose survival depends on "strategic depth" will find itself in an awful bind, needing more and more depth to offer the same measure of protection.

Of course, strategic depth is of no value without an impressive military machine to make use of it. In Israel's case, this machine requires billions of dollars in American aid and subsidies, as well as an economically disruptive draft and reserve service system. The only justification for such an existence is the possibility of achieving some goal beyond simply maintaining the status quo. The goal should be a peaceful and prosperous society; ironically, the force necessary to maintain the status quo only serves to push the logical goal further off.

But given the duration of the Arab-Israeli standoff, this utterly contingent existence has become comfortable to its engineers.

Unfortunately, Sharon and the hard-liners have let this peculiar comfort in asperity overrule calculation--even cynical calculation. How can Israel deal with the PLO, he asks--its untouchable status is part of the architecture. It is to Israel's advantage to have a PLO whose legitimacy is grounded in its special relationship to Israel; still, the hard-liners balk. Recognizing the PLO, though it opens up tremendous possibilities, could upset the House Likud Built.

Most ominously, Sharon intimated that hard-liners might justifiably defend that house through extra-parliamentary means. The mere suggestion of factional violence, let alone civil war, should unnerve anyone hoping for peace.

But Sharon played to an audience of American Jewish conservatives--a crowd that couldn't have been more pleased at this sabre-rattling outburst. Long accustomed to their role as apologists for Israel's often necessary but never pretty suppression of the occupied territories, these armchair hawks were highly receptive to tough talk about the Palestinians.

It was quite disturbing how willingly the denizens of Park Avenue joined the faraway battle with their checkbooks. Sharon launched into the familiar indictment: You American Jews are not on the front line, so don't dare second-guess us. Perhaps it is not the business of American Jews--who, after all, are not on the front line--to fund obstructionists who aim to block the popularly elected government of a sovereign state.

There is a danger that American Jewry will be led down the same path of patriotism-by-proxy that has prolonged the Irish Republican Army's terror. A radical faction wages an unpopular struggle by appeal to its expatriate community--a community whose understanding is limited to the rarefied world of the ideal, oblivious to "front line" suffering.

An opportunity has finally arisen to end the standoff. If Israel is to have any hope of a permanent, sustainable solution to a perpetual terror, it must take a chance. General Sharon, whose bold military exploits earned him his reputation, should know better than anyone that it is sometimes necessary to roll the dice.