Traveler There is No Path, the Path is Made by Negotiating: The Story of the Abraham Path, a Decade and a Half of Negotiations, and Lessons Learned

The words of the Spanish poet Antonio Machado, above, aptly express the challenges involved in establishing the Abraham Path. Although the Path was made by walking, negotiation played a central role in dusting off the legendary footsteps of one of the best‐known figures in human history. This is the story of these negotiations.

The idea of developing the Abraham Path began in 2003 with a dinner in the mountains of Colorado among negotiation professionals and friends who had just returned from a long trip to Syria and Gaza. The project was conceived with the purpose of building mutual understanding between people in the Western part of the world and those in the Middle East.¹ The gulf between these two worlds had been widening for years, with the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq creating more disconnection and misunderstanding. The Path was an effort to bring people together across cultures and societies, a project that we, the authors, helped initiate and shepherd for many years. The initiative would seek to achieve this goal by providing an opportunity for people to travel to the region and walk an ancient path, staying with people in the region and engaging in bridge‐building interactions. Through these interactions, people would get to know each other on a personal level, thereby breaking down stereotypes of the other. Those travelers would then go home, share their experiences, and begin to break down stereotypes more widely. The activities were quite simple and humble—walking, sharing stories, showing respect and learning from one another, and breaking bread together. What unfolded for the organizers, however, was nothing short of an epic adventure filled with seemingly endless twists and turns, and a vast array of negotiations.

As the initial organizers, we advanced the project through the Global Negotiation Initiative at the Harvard Negotiation Project and then through the Abraham Path Initiative (API), a nonprofit entity that we established in 2007 to do the work on the ground.² As we sought to implement the idea, we were confronted with a critical initial question: where, and how, to begin such an effort. Certainly, creating a long‐distance walking/hiking route like the Appalachian Trail was not new. However, doing so through perhaps the most tumultuous and conflict‐torn regions of the world posed all kinds of unique challenges and conundrums. There was no blueprint to follow for such a significant and innovative undertaking.³ Amidst all the unknowns, we suspected that negotiation, both formal and informal, would play a fundamental role in dusting off the mythological footprints of Abraham, as he was remembered in the region. Little did we know how much this would be true.

Several strategic questions needed answers before anything could happen on the ground: How could a vibrant cultural walking route be created? Who would accomplish this delicate work through dozens, if not hundreds, of villages, towns, and cities? And how could the Path be made sustainable over the long term? The answers gradually emerged through understanding the entire endeavor as a prolonged negotiation campaign, a concept created by our negotiation colleagues and future Path partners James Sebenius and David Lax. A negotiation campaign required that we and our future partners come to understand the vast and uncertain landscape in which we were negotiating, the multitude of parties involved, and the proper sequencing. It called on us to take an iterative approach to the entire prolonged negotiation process. As in many difficult negotiations, there was no guarantee of success; if anything, the odds of success were considered slim. Before examining the negotiation campaign itself, it is useful to discuss the barriers that we initially envisioned as we embarked on this highly uncertain endeavor.

As might be imagined, in a project such as this there were many barriers to overcome in order to fulfill the vision of a functioning Path that benefited the local communities and built bridges between disparate worlds. We identified six primary obstacles early on. These are briefly discussed below and are revisited toward the end of the article.

The first barrier was negotiating to obtain the short‐ and longer‐term resources needed to sustain the effort. This type of project would not be years in the making; it would require decades at least. From setting up an organization to securing the resources to engage local partners to mapping the trail itself, a long period of time was required.

A second barrier was the trepidation that many around the world felt toward the Middle East region. When we shared the project with others and told them where the Path was to traverse, we were often met with a range of expressions, from general skepticism and disbelief to downright fear. This fear was further enhanced by additional safety concerns related to walking.

A third barrier was trying to work in a region where many countries had strained relations with each other, or worse, considered others along the path as mortal enemies. Given the inherently regional nature of the undertaking, this negotiation challenge was pervasive and erupted on numerous occasions.

A fourth barrier, closely connected to the third, was the concern by many in the region that this was secretly a backdoor normalization project to get countries to work more closely with Israel. While this was never our intention—the nature of each relationship was left up to the countries to decide—perception is reality, particularly in a region where skepticism often pervades everyday life.

A fifth barrier was figuring out how exactly the Path would come to life. Given the lack of a road map for doing this, acknowledging that the Path would be owned by the local communities along the way and that our role would be catalytic and supportive, the obstacles were numerous and rooted in seemingly endless practicalities. For example, how would we find good partners on the ground? Where would travelers stay? How would international travelers show proper respect for the local culture without creating conflicts? And there were many more dimensions that required attention and only became clearer as the project evolved.

A sixth and final barrier was meeting the different underlying needs and interests of the entities involved in bringing the Path to life. We were part of the international group that started the API, and we had a set of goals and objectives within a certain framework. Governments and the Path's local partners shared some of those goals and objectives, but also had their own desires and preferred ways of framing the project. The ability to manage these tensions as well as the Path's varied purposes took considerable time, effort, and negotiation (Figure One).

To understand the development of the Abraham Path from a negotiation point of view we will employ the concept of a negotiation campaign, which ultimately guided our efforts. A negotiation campaign is a series of multifaceted negotiations that lead to an ultimate agreement. Such an effort requires a carefully designed and structured approach that contributes to a grander end goal. This idea has six steps, which are discussed below: choose the right parties and group them into fronts, assess interdependencies between fronts, determine whether and when to combine fronts, sequence the campaign, determine how much information to share and when, and learn and adapt (Sebenius 2010; Lax and Sebenius 2012). The reader will note that these steps occurred at both the macro‐ and micro‐levels. For example, at the outset sequencing was a predominant concept for the overall project and later it was key for many individual or locally connected negotiations.

Lax and Sebenius emphasize that before embarking on a negotiation campaign, one must first understand the ultimate target agreement (UTA)—the campaign's end goal. For us, the UTA was the Path's development, implementation, and sustainability—in other words, the creation and maintenance of a decentralized Path that was “owned” by the people living along the route. We sought to create a route that—following the planting of the initial seeds—was self‐sustaining through the guest–host relationship. Of course, the UTA was made up of many smaller deals and agreements that all came together to serve the larger goal.

The first task in a negotiation campaign is to choose the right parties with which to begin the campaign, map out the other parties with which you will need to engage as the campaign evolves, and group the parties into fronts to manage them effectively. Later these fronts will come together, but initially it is helpful to separate them for clarity and direction. This first step was vital for us as we took a big‐picture perspective on how to approach the Path's development and all the potential key players.

We initially thought that gaining international support and working our way down to the local level would be the best overall approach for bringing the Path to life. As the idea was developed at Harvard University it already had critically important credibility. After some analysis, we began our prolonged series of negotiations by seeking partnerships with United Nations organizations, prominent funding agencies, and universities. The United Nations Alliance of Civilizations (UNAOC) became one of the first partners of the Path since our goals aligned with theirs. This arrangement was followed by partnerships with the UN World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) and the United Nations Institute for Training and Research (UNITAR). High‐profile international nongovernmental organizations, such as Engineers without Borders International, the World Heritage Alliance, and Outward Bound Peacebuilding, also joined the effort after seeing clear connections between their organizations' interests and the Path's goals.

In parallel to these partnerships, we initiated negotiations to secure funding from a diverse array of sources. These were particularly important negotiations given that a project's funding sources often indicate to observers much about its' true intentions. Fortunately, early funding was secured from the Rockefeller Brothers Fund; the Council of 100 (connected to the World Economic Forum); Prince Al‐Walid Bin Talal; and several individual supporters from many places, including Europe and South America. It was important to us that others view the project as a global effort, and the diversity of funding sources helped others to see it as such. We also thought that the global nature of the project was critical to our success given the controversial role of the United States in the Middle East region.⁴ Finally, as the project had its roots at Harvard, universities abroad and in the region were approached. These first included Leeds University in the UK and ESPM in Sao Paulo, Brazil; later we partnered with Sabanci University (Turkey), Bethlehem University (Palestine), Birzeit University (Palestine), and Ben Gurion University (Israel).

Having built a credible network of global support, we shifted our attention to the next front—national governments of the countries that the Path would traverse. This was a difficult set of negotiations for many reasons, the most important being the tenuous relationship between some of these governments. After doing much research and some feasibility studies on the ground, we understood that formal written approval from a governmental ministry in each country was needed to codify their approval and make progress on other fronts. After some deliberation, we decided to focus our attention on the ministries of tourism, given these were the least politicized of all the entities within most governments. While this proved true, we still found that a project such as the Abraham Path was rarely viewed with a benign lens.

As we prepared for negotiations with the regional national governments, we considered what might draw these governments to the project. This led us to identify the governmental interests that the project could meet. Through this preparation, and numerous discussions with countless stakeholders, we found a common thread. All the governments wanted more tourists/travelers—particularly those interested in history, culture, and a connection to the region through their religious heritage. Of course, this last category synced clearly with Abraham/Ibrahim, one of the most meaningful figures for the region's inhabitants and viewed by the governments as a vital ancestral link. While this view is shared by people around the world, Middle Easterners also see Abraham/Ibrahim as a living figure, as shown by the many sites and locations named for him and the ways that he is deeply embedded in the cultures found along the route.⁵

As Abraham/Ibrahim is a central figure at the heart of Judaism, Islam, and Christianity, the evoking of his name aroused curiosity, interest, and a sense of honor. It also conjured suspicions, providing much material with which to work and early indications of the negotiation challenges ahead. One such negotiation with a Turkish government ministry exemplified this challenge. While Turkey had been dogmatically secular for many decades under the leadership of Kamal Ataturk and many subsequent prime ministers, during the regime of the current Prime Minister, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, a movement was afoot to embrace the religiosity prevalent in the country's more rural areas. The Abraham Path seemed to fit in with the movement's vision of the future, especially in the remote Southeast region of Sanliurfa, which prides itself on its connection with the figure of Abraham/Ibrahim. As Weiss and Arzu Yilmaz, a Turkish colleague who worked on the development of the Path, met with representatives of the ministry, many questions were raised about the project's true intentions. After considerable positional back‐and‐forth over many cups of tea, the deputy minister disclosed an underlying interest in the quest for ways to honor Abraham/Ibrahim through tourism and other projects connected to his memory. He noted the importance of proceeding very slowly to lessen the broader public's concern about a major shift toward greater religiosity in the country. He explained that they were prepared to support the Path's development and the visitors it would bring because they liked the project's essence. However, were there one small misstep or any public backlash, their support would be pulled. Implementing the project in line with our discussions and framing it for the public according to the ministry's wishes proved to be critical in keeping their support.

Some governments were attracted to the project by its regional scope. Despite the challenges of forging governmental relationships in the region, some ministers and other officials were inspired by the idea of the Path and its potential to bring about greater connection with other countries. To these officials, the Path held out the promise of longer stays in their country and opportunities for cooperation with neighboring countries with which they had friendly relations. However, to other ministers, the prospect of greater cooperation with neighboring governments was a source of concern—a view that kept them at arm's length from the planning process for quite some time. When these ministers did decide to get involved, they did so slowly and cautiously.⁶ In the end, we and our partners secured letters from the region's tourism ministers giving their stamp of approval for the project.

Another key dimension to negotiations with the ministries was our desire for the project to occur primarily at the civil‐society level. Put differently, we politely but firmly asked the governments to limit their involvement and leave the work to the people on the ground, supported by the API. We believed that the fronts would come together on this point and that the more local the Path‐building work, the less political it would be. We also thought that putting the Path into the hands of the locals at an early stage would benefit them economically and socially, allow them to own its development, and make them more inclined to nurture it over time—increasing the likelihood of success and mitigating residents' suspicions about the project. This was essential for the early adoption of the Path as well as its long‐term sustainability. The request to limit governmental participation and allow work to occur at the civil‐society level was honored to varying degrees, with most countries—particularly Turkey, Jordan, Palestine, and Israel—consenting. The only country that initially did not accede to our request was Syria, which required a different approach altogether given the country's very top‐down and insular nature. Although a letter of approval arrived eventually, obtaining it required prolonged negotiation and some very creative thinking because we had to modify our initial proposal to meet Syria's underlying interests.⁷

Having achieved a general level of success at the national level, we then moved to the regional‐level front within countries to undertake early scouting and mapping work and build partnerships with governors, mayors, and local communities. The areas for mapping work were selected based on several factors—the connection to Abraham/Ibrahim, the beauty of the landscape, existing infrastructure (or the ease of developing it), and the perceived willingness of the local population to welcome guests. Many of these negotiations began with governors of provinces or administrative divisions or with mayors of both big and small cities along the path. Their general consent was usually forthcoming because they understood the potential economic benefits to their regions—many of which were quite poor and eager for the revenue. However, the governors and mayors also brought a healthy dose of skepticism to the table, and it was clear that we would have to “walk the talk” to retain their support.

One such negotiation involved Weiss and the mayor of Sanliurfa, Ahmet Fakibaba. At the time, few Westerners had worked or traveled in Sanliurfa—a city in Southeastern Turkey in a province by the same name—and traditionally there has been little tourism in the area except for pilgrims from the Arab world. Interestingly, the city is known for its connection to Abraham/Ibrahim as it is close to the ancient city of Harran, where he heard the call to “go forth.” Furthermore, according to one prominent Islamic narrative, Abraham/Ibrahim's birth cave is in the heart of Sanliurfa. The mayor, along with others, saw the potential for tourism in the area and believed that the Abraham Path could be an important generator of such activity. Unfortunately, this excitement was tempered with suspicions about the project, and negotiations to obtain the mayor's support were circuitous, permeated by his constituents' many concerns. Adding to the challenges of the negotiation was the fact that Weiss had a stomach illness and fever during his session with the mayor.

As Weiss arrived for his meeting at a gray drab Soviet style‐looking concrete building, he struggled to keep his focus. As he was led down a long dark hallway with his colleague Yilmaz, motion lights popped on and off to conserve energy. When the two arrived at the very large conference room, they found a massive table at which the mayor was seated. Chain smoking and wearing a dark suit, Fakibaba sat erect at one end of the table with his secretary seated by his side. As Weiss and Yilmaz greeted Fakibaba, the mayor asked if Weiss was OK because he did not look well. Weiss stated he was fine, and it was nothing a little tea could not fix. After a few cups of tea and struggling to breathe through the cigarette smoke, Weiss asked Fakibaba what it would take to gain his support and for them to work together to bring the Path to the region. Surprisingly and despite public perceptions to the contrary, Fakibaba was eager to get behind the Path. He said he had heard some concerns from his constituents, but they were nothing he had not heard before and these fears were not uncommon from people who lived in a smaller region with limited access to media beyond local sources. He said that he would manage the challenges and saw the Path's value for his community and pledged to do his part to help the project develop. Weiss and Yilmaz assured the mayor that they would make it as easy as possible for him and would do whatever they could to meet any concerns. They also explained that they would follow his lead and guidance on the best sequencing for implementation of the Path, which gave the mayor an added level of comfort around wading into the domestic concerns that were percolating. This cooperation and endorsement from a figure as important as the mayor were pivotal to easing fears and getting many local organizations, which had been sitting on the sidelines, to finally feel comfortable participating in the project. Weiss had learned from Yilmaz and many previous negotiations in the region that culturally, there were genuine yeses of support and other yeses that enabled people to save face. This, thankfully, was a genuine yes because it included clear follow‐up steps and tangible offers of support. Many subsequent negotiations of this kind would occur over the years; others would prove much more difficult and perfunctory at best.

The local villages and communities that the Path would cross constituted the last front. Each local negotiation was unique and required much exploration of underlying interests, an understanding of cultural worldviews, preparation for potential pitfalls, and personal connections that were developed over time. The cultures of the towns and villages varied greatly. As we came to understand, the diversity within a country—and even within a country's regions—was as significant as the diversity between nations.

The Abraham Path field staff and local partners conducted many of the negotiations at the town and village level. These negotiations took on many forms—some were around issues that affected all the participating countries while others focused on more local concerns. One of the more interesting negotiations related to the idea of homestays. As we began to develop the Path, one of the first issues that arose was where travelers would stay along the route. There were hotels and pensions in cities and towns but in the more rural areas there was nothing of the sort. Through brainstorming sessions with local partners, the idea of homestays arose. Initially, partners articulated many reasons why this idea could not work but there were few other options and after negotiations, they agreed that travelers would stay in the homes of local residents. Travelers often have commented that homestays were one of the best parts of their Path experience, allowing them to get to know the people and their local cultures. Homestay development involved a lot of interesting and befuddling negotiations, one of which is discussed below.

The route of the Jordanian section of the Path wound through the northern regions of Ajloun and Orjan. Despite outside perceptions of Jordan, not many Westerners visited these places—there was little tourism outside of Amman, Petra, and the Dead Sea. As the field staff explored the area, they were initially met with much resistance and suspicion. After we secured a letter of approval from the minister of tourism, some residents were more open to the idea of the Path. However, others remained opposed to the project. In one case, the team encountered a woman named Um Ahmed, who was partially blind, very poor, and lived with her children in a village along the Path's planned route. An amazing cook, Um Ahmed was known for her delicious bread, which was made with native ingredients. As the staff explained to her that travelers would offer money for her food, she expressed appreciation for the opportunity. Notwithstanding Um Ahmed's receptivity to the project, some members of her village were extremely protective of her and very suspicious of our entreaties. Over time and through many productive interactions with travelers, the villagers realized that their concerns were unfounded and supported Um Ahmed's involvement. Some years later Um Ahmed told our staff, “In a world in which I am often invisible [due to being poor and partially blind], you have made me visible again. Thank you!”

Another local negotiation—in Palestine—highlighted a different approach to negotiating the Path's development. Raed Saadeh, Vice President of the Palestinian Hotel Association and CEO of the Jerusalem Hotel, described the elaborate process of establishing the Path in several Palestinian villages:

In every country each group working on the Path took a unique negotiation approach that fit with its culture, dynamics, and circumstances. As the reader can grasp from the description above, the Palestinian approach focused on community development and building an umbrella organization. In Syria, given the state's centralized nature, negotiations to develop the Path were directed by the Ministry of Tourism. Consequently, the Syrian part of the Path was a very different experience for travelers. Finally, in Turkey, some of the smaller villages in and around Sanliurfa and Harran required a wholly different negotiation approach. As this area was still run according to a feudal system, there were chieftains (in local parlance aghas) with whom we had to meet and build relationships. When negotiating with the chieftains, the Path staff had little leverage other than the ability to help people economically and socially. Fortunately, this message resonated with them because the people's well‐being was one of the chieftains' utmost concerns. Had we not understood the proper channels, sequencing, and customs in each area, these negotiations would have been doomed to fail. We gained such invaluable knowledge from the local communities—and the small committees that they formed. They were not only the language translators and negotiators but also the cultural translators. Moreover, the negotiations in Turkey transpired in the context of an honor culture. One misstep or offense could set the entire project back considerably.

As we began to establish the Turkish section of the Path, a challenge arose within the context of this honor culture, one that significantly impacted our negotiations. There were two areas near Sanliurfa and Harran—a Kurdish area and an Arab area. Historically there had been very little contact between the two and at times, their different backgrounds led to hostility between them. The local partners who worked to develop the Path, Omer and Alison Tanik, understood this problem very well, but also knew that it was critically important that travelers be able to walk from one area to the other. This required some very delicate negotiations. The Taniks explained the potential benefits to all involved and slowly broke down barriers between the two groups, dispelling taboos around interacting with the “other.” They employed an incremental strategy, bringing participants together for tea to introduce the idea and then taking small steps forward. Several villages eventually agreed to be part of the project and linkages were made tentatively, then cultivated consistently. Subsequently, that part of the Path came to life with travelers walking a unique five‐day segment.⁸

Once the Path began to take shape the initial analysis of the campaign was complete, and we undertook the next phase of negotiations: assessing interdependencies between the fronts. This was needed to further develop the Path—increasing its length and involving more people in different capacities. As the reader may have noted, these interdependencies naturally came into view as the work progressed and moved closer to the ground.

At the beginning of the Path's development, model segments of approximately 100 kilometers were created in each country to demonstrate to the national and local communities how the Path would work and how it could support residents. These “proof of concept” segments, as we called them, were closely monitored by national and regional governmental figures, who—given that their reputations were on the line—paid close attention and acted as caretakers of the Path. This led to negotiations that often included members from various fronts to ensure they were aligned and that the API kept its promises during the project's implementation. Over time much more mapping and many more negotiations were needed to develop and sustain the Path by connecting all the segments. Especially, when governmental funding at the national level was involved, the interdependencies between the fronts came together in a meaningful manner. Negotiations rotated from securing funding at the national level to working at the regional level to determine how funds would be dispersed equally at the town and village level. At times some areas believed that favoritism affected these decisions, which made future negotiations much more challenging.

Another question that arose as the campaign unfolded was whether and when to combine fronts. We knew that as work on the ground continued the API's negotiations would become more complex and increasingly involve a combination of partners at the national, regional, and local levels (rather than separately, as before). The negotiations between the API and its local teams and partners were key in deciding whether and when to combine fronts. The difficulty was in determining how to manage the long continuing series of negotiations that were necessary to keep the Path developing and growing while managing the different needs of all the parties.

As the Path progressed on numerous levels the international API performed many tasks, including staffing, raising funds for the Path's continued development, promoting the Path to a global audience, and creating chapters of the Path around the world—notably in Brazil, the UK, France, Spain, and Germany.⁹ The chapters raised funds for and otherwise supported the Path's development and organized trips for people who wanted to travel it. The API shared responsibility with the local teams and partners for growing their segments, which entailed creating homestays, involving more villages and towns, finding and training local guides, engaging with local tour operators, and seeking out new partners with whom to work on different facets of the Path's development. Negotiations were constant and plentiful and much of the time the international and local groups worked well together and toward common objectives. Other times there were problems based on differing interests. For instance, the international teams' primary interest was that of connecting people—bridging the divide between the West and places in the Middle East with unfolding conflicts and fostering greater understanding between peoples and cultures. The local teams and partners certainly were not opposed to these goals, but their primary focus and their motivation for participating in the project was to help local communities economically and socially. These different underlying interests and goals sometimes conflicted, creating a standstill in the Path's development and requiring creative thinking to move forward. Specifically, at times that resources were scarce as the Path evolved, conflicts sometimes arose regarding how best to allocate them. Should the resources go toward more marketing and promotion of the Path to get people on the ground walking and engaging with host communities as the international group wanted? Or should those funds be allocated toward more homestay development and English‐language training for guides as the local teams desired?

While it was essential at the outset to have some sense of sequencing in a negotiation campaign of this magnitude, it became particularly important over the long term as the Path continued to grow and to involve more actors. The initial sequence—beginning at the international level and moving on to the national, regional, and local levels—made a lot of sense and for a while proved to be correct. Over time, however, the sequencing of negotiations became less clear‐cut, and while some steps went according to plan and some negotiations were predictable, there was also a reactive dynamic to negotiations as challenges arose.

Many of the predictable negotiations were structured around expanding the Path's reach. Negotiations occurred frequently as new villages were brought on board and dynamic issues arose. While many negotiations began with the question of which families to involve and in what capacity, corollary issues often required consideration, such as those related to selecting guides and facilitating homestays. Those negotiations followed a fixed process and there was little to do at the national level other than obtain initial approvals and keep governmental officials informed of progress and opportunities for promotion.

But as the Path developed, sequencing often was ambiguous due to unforeseen issues and challenges on the ground. Consider the following situation. As part of the effort to launch the Path in Turkey in 2007, the API worked closely with the governor of Sanliurfa Province and the mayor of the city of Sanliurfa, as discussed above. The governor, the mayor, and a local committee of tourism professionals and representatives of nonprofit organizations held a tourism conference, inviting over 100 people from around the world to introduce the Path and build support for it internationally and locally. To give attendees the experience of walking along the Path, they were given the opportunity to participate in a 10‐kilometer walk to historic Harran, where all the monotheistic faiths agree that Abraham/Ibrahim heard the call from God to go forth. The walk was to be covered in local, national, and global media outlets.

Approximately six weeks before the conference, Weiss received a call from his colleague, Yilmaz. She explained that the chief of the village in which the walk would begin wanted to welcome the guests properly by slaughtering goats for lunch and asked how many he should kill. Both Weiss and Yilmaz were taken aback—they certainly were not in the business of slaughtering goats—but agreed to think overnight about the chief's request and how to manage it creatively. That night Weiss recalled an offer from a local tour operator to provide lunches to travelers should ever they be needed. The next morning Yilmaz called the tour operator and confirmed that he was still happy to provide the meals. Yilmaz then called the chief, thanked him profusely for his generous offer, and explained that the meals were already in hand. The chief understood and said he would still like to make a small sacrifice of one goat in honor of all the guests. Begrudgingly Weiss and Yilmaz agreed, believing that one goat was better than many. This solution allowed the chief to save face while Weiss and Yilmaz achieved their humane lunch goals. While the negotiation sequenced smoothly once it began, this was an unpredictable scenario that could hardly have been anticipated.

Another example of an unanticipated negotiation occurred along the Path in Jordan. As the Path began to unfold, the mayor of the Ajloun region expressed interest in the project, seeing its potential to help his people. The API worked closely with the mayor, engaging him at every turn and negotiating several issues related to the many villages in the area, including how many families from each village would participate, how to manage the possibility of jealousy among participating and nonparticipating villagers and villages, and how to prepare families to host overseas guests. Over the course of a year, the Jordanian section of the Path began to take shape, people were traveling, and local communities were benefiting. However, just as things were becoming more rooted on the ground, the ministry of tourism had a change of heart. Expressing concerns about the project (in part due to political pressure), the ministry told the API and local communities to cease all activity. Needing to determine the best approach to address this issue—including the proper sequencing—the team decided to meet with the mayor to obtain his advice and talk through the ministry's opposition from a negotiation perspective. After analyzing the situation together with the API team, the mayor decided that his BATNA was to forge ahead, explaining that the Path was doing a lot of good in the community and he did not want to shut it down because the ministry had a problem with it. The API staff and the mayor agreed that the mayor was the right messenger and that he would take the lead in negotiating with the ministry. He did so. The result? The ministry was surprised by the mayor's strong views and commitment to the project. It relented and the mayor and the local community carried the project forward. While this was not so much a negotiation in the traditional sense, what was important was the sequencing of engaging the mayor, followed by his BATNA analysis. The mayor came to understand that he had a good BATNA, and he sensed that the ministry would likely back away if he demonstrated his commitment to the project and emphasized the good that it was doing for the people of his region.

The next step in the negotiation campaign is to think through how much information to share and when to do so. In many of the negotiations, particularly those that the API conducted with governments at all levels and with local partners, there was much conversation about what information to share, why to share it, and when to share it. We often had to remind ourselves of the nature of the project and to resist getting pulled into lose–lose political negotiations that were not the project's focus. Over the years, numerous parties tried to negotiate in a way that facilitated extracting information from us that they could use to undercut the project. We always had to tread carefully under these circumstances.

While there are many examples related to this step in the process, one key negotiation—which initially occurred between the API and its local teams and partners—exemplifies the issue of what to share, when to share it, and who should share it. As the API engaged with its local partners in Turkey, Jordan, and Palestine, the question of the role of women frequently arose. How, for example, would homestays be possible given some of the cultural norms around women? Some local men said that women were not to be seen by outsiders—particularly other men. During a negotiation on this issue, the API team and the local Palestinian team brainstormed solutions to the problem. Many on the local team simply could not see a way forward and felt they could not push against long‐held cultural norms. The API team knew it would be virtually impossible to have homestays without the deep involvement of women. During the negotiation the situation became tense, with the API hesitating to share its perspective out of concern they would offend their local partners and the local team holding steadfast to its views. Then, a young Palestinian woman on the team spoke up and addressed her colleagues. She explained that while cultural norms should be respected, the project held so much potential for the local communities that surely, they could find a creative solution. She also explained that it was important to push back against certain norms, including those that would prevent women from participating in the project. They all had seen the good the project was doing for the women and families involved. Ultimately, the teams agreed to move forward with the proper setup and training. All homestay hosts attended the trainings, which covered many facets of the project, including the recognition of women as a core part of the homestay experience. Agreements were also reached around how women would engage with visitors, particularly males (and how female travelers would engage with local men), and limitations were established on where guests could go around the home.

The postscript to this negotiation is that the most memorable part of travelers' experience on the Abraham Path is the homestays. Without this delicate negotiation and the proper and careful sharing of information, these homestays would likely never have come to pass. The lesson from this negotiation is to be respectful of cultural norms, but also to recognize that in negotiations, norms often are discussed in positional terms. If one can get down to the underlying interests, it is more possible to solve the issues creatively.

Given the complexity of the Abraham Path and of the negotiation campaign to help it develop and grow, this last step in the process was perhaps the most vital. The negotiation campaign for the Abraham Path differed from most other campaigns in that it involved a great number of parties and there was no clear beginning or end. Thus, it was challenging to apply the very concept of a negotiation campaign to the project. However, it was the best framework we had for organizing our efforts to create and maintain the Path.

After the first few years of working on the Path, learning and adapting became central to our approach, which we often referred to as our “iterative approach.” According to this approach, we entered each negotiation with a strategy and goal in mind but expected to learn from the interaction and adapt to the circumstances. As is generally true in all negotiations, we always worked with incomplete information, particularly in negotiations at the local level. We entered each negotiation slowly, gathering information as we went. Many of the incidents described earlier, from saving goats in Turkey to negotiating the role of women along the Path, transpired in this way. There were many trips to the balcony to ask ourselves what was really going on and to determine how to meet our objectives while keeping valuable partners on board.

Learning and adapting were also particularly important as we managed negotiations with our long‐term partners. As we negotiated with them over time, we learned more about the complexities with which they dealt and how to meet our needs given their constraints. One example involved one of our tour operators, who—for political reasons—was under significant pressure from organizations that objected to the tour guide's association with us. As we negotiated with the organizations, we sought to reconcile our goal of bringing travelers to the Path with their opposition to such travelers, which they said was due to their fear of reputational damage. We learned to look beyond their initial resistance and consider their underlying interests, which concerned the content of communications that were made on the tour. Once we realized this, we agreed to work jointly on communication efforts to ensure that everyone was comfortable with the tour operator's presentation, thereby assuaging the organizations' fears that the operator might say something that would result in problems and challenges for them.

Thus far we have focused on the successful negotiation campaign that led to the development of over 1,000 miles of Path, the formation of partnerships with hundreds of local communities, and the establishment of over 150 homestays. All were welcome signs of surprising progress. Of course, as with any negotiation campaign, there were also plenty of temporary setbacks and longer‐term failures from which to learn. The failures are connected to the barriers discussed earlier and include negotiations on initial and sustained funding, political issues and normalization, local and logistical problems, and divisive issues related to the figure of Abraham/Ibrahim.

Perhaps the biggest failure was managing the negotiation campaign's political dimensions. While there was initial success in this area, there was always a dark cloud hanging over the project and forces seeking to undermine it. A project that sought to include Turkey, Syria, Jordan, Palestine, and Israel; eventually Egypt and Iraq; and possibly Saudi Arabia was bound to run into political issues given the tenuous state of their relations. Initially, our negotiations with all the entities were clear and straightforward. We never asked any of the countries to work with each other—that was left entirely up to them to do … or not do. The API only asked that each country work on their part of the Path. It was also not the API's job to delineate the Path's route—that was left to folklore, history, and geography. While this framing reflected the project's mission and vision, and our partners accepted it for many years, there were always problems arising from differences in how people perceived the project and manipulated information.

At times political groups used the project for their own purposes, casting doubt on its true intentions and playing on people's fears that there was more to the project than met the eye. During one such incident, in which a group vilified the API by claiming that its true intention was normalization of relations with Israel, we sought to engage the group and negotiate a way forward. Unfortunately, the group was not interested in negotiating a solution, instead seeking to use the project for its own political purposes, which were incompatible with a negotiated arrangement. This problem happened on numerous occasions and the API was never able to find a solution that worked for all involved over the short or long term. Eventually, those groups moved on to the next issue on their agendas, but the damage to the API was done—people who wanted to view the project as a normalization project had fodder to do so. In the long term, this resulted in a never‐ending stream of suspicions about the project in the eyes of many skeptics.

On the local level, there were many rivalries within and between groups. At times, issues related to such rivalries came to the forefront, emerging in different ways. One type of rivalry arose in several villages in which some families were involved with the Path while others stayed away due to various concerns and rumors.¹⁰ As the Path evolved and travelers went to different villages, some people benefited while others did not. Working with our local teams and partners, we were usually able to find some creative solutions to this problem. For example, in some places, villagers shared the food remaining after travelers ate meals that were prepared for them. In other places, some of these rivalries could not be overcome, causing some villages to decide not to participate in the project.

Another failure occurred early on in the Path's development. As part of the 2006 Harvard Study Tour, members of regional and local communities were invited to events at different places along the Path¹¹ so they could learn more about the project and determine if they would like to be involved as partners. Unfortunately, at the meeting in Sanliurfa the attendees' ethnic and religious mix created a very sensitive moment, causing significant worry among some parts of the local population as to the project's true intentions. After the study tour, Weiss asked Yilmaz what they should do to try to repair any damage that had been done. Yilmaz suggested that she, Weiss, and staff member Daniel Adamson go back to Sanliurfa, meet with a core group of people from the area—including the governor and mayor—and apologize for any perceived missteps and seek their counsel on how best to proceed. The three met and negotiated, the apology from Yilmaz and Weiss was accepted, and the three discussed a path forward that worked for all involved. However, relationship effects from this meeting lingered and were felt for a few years afterward. Eventually, through proper sequencing and bringing together people from different fronts, we proved ourselves by walking the talk and living up to our words.

Last, and certainly not least, was the figure of Abraham/Ibrahim and all that he meant to those across the region. Of course, Abraham/Ibrahim is a revered figure, and over three billion people on the planet are connected to his legacy. He is indeed a unifying figure for many. He is also a figure steeped in controversy—one sometimes associated with ownership and the claiming of land and rights.¹² The negotiations in and around this issue were difficult and often unsuccessful. The views among travelers and supporters from outside the region were often positive and based on a connection to Abraham/Ibrahim through their own heritage. The views from inside the region were positive in a similar vein, but they were also negative due to the usage of Abraham/Ibrahim to support certain claims. We never succeeded in managing these different messages and framings—or “acoustic separation,” in the words of API board member James Sebenius (Sebenius and Hulse 2003).

In the end, can it be argued that the Path reached its Ultimate Target Agreement (UTA)? If so, how did it manage to get there? With over 1,000 miles of path mapped and waymarked and more to come (currently a path is being developed in Iraqi Kurdistan), more than 80,000 Path travelers estimated since 2008, over 150 established homestays in villages, and many millions of people exposed to the Path through the media in the region and around the world, it is fair to argue that the Path has made a great deal of progress toward its UTA, understanding that much more needs to be done. Key to this success was the strategy of learning from past negotiations and adapting to the new issues and challenges that presented themselves with each passing month. This was the only true way to approach the development of the path—through iteration.

As of this writing, the API has substantially reduced its close‐in support of path‐building work on the ground. The paths in Palestine, Jordan, and Egypt are run, as they should be, by local partners. It was always part of the strategy to pull back once the Path was established and local communities were shepherding it. These trails have gained in popularity thanks to a newfound tourism industry centered around walking and hiking as well as to a great deal of publicity related to the Path. While in the early years. International travelers predominated in using the Path, many local hiking groups later emerged and were very active along different parts of the Path prior to the Covid pandemic.

What were the keys to progress toward that UTA? They can be summed up by seeing the Path through the prism of a very long‐term negotiation campaign. Within that campaign, two steps were particularly essential—first, carefully thinking about negotiation sequencing at the outset and revisiting it frequently as the Path developed, and second, taking an iterative approach that harnessed our learnings and forced us to constantly adapt to the situation that presented itself.

The overall concept of the negotiation campaign was critical in terms of analysis and execution. It conveyed to all those involved that this was a long‐term endeavor that required a wide array of short‐term negotiations as well as sustained negotiations over time. Negotiating our short‐term needs while also building long‐term relationships proved essential to moving the campaign forward. While negotiation is often cast in transactional terms, personal connections and relationships were central to the negotiations that enabled the Path's launch and sustained it over time. The process was highly time‐consuming and required a lot of patience as we nurtured the Path's growth in a methodical—albeit often nonlinear—manner. Our initial connections were another factor that was essential to our success.

The sequencing of the Path's development and related negotiations also proved vital. Thinking about which individuals and organizations to meet with initially, why we should meet with them, and what impact those meetings might have on the other fronts was at the heart of what we did. The early sequencing was very clear in our minds. The sequencing as the project continued was difficult and challenging given the unpredictable nature of many of the negotiations that arose. However, we always kept the concept in mind no matter how the negotiations manifested themselves.

Finally, the iterative learning approach was vital to the implementation of the Path. Michael Wheeler, a Harvard Business School Professor Emeritus, refers to the 80/20 rule. The rule states that a negotiator can prepare for about 80% of any negotiation while the other 20% is information that emerges during the process. Negotiators must adapt accordingly (Wheeler 2013). In all our Path negotiations, we found it critical to keep this approach in mind.

In the end, it is fair to say that the UTA has been partially achieved and there is much more to be accomplished. Fortunately, time always has been on the side of the API and its many partners. After all, what are a few more decades, or even centuries, in the context of a story that is already well over 4,000 years old?

The authors would like to offer our sincere gratitude to James K. Sebenius for his very valuable input and suggested revisions to earlier drafts of the article.