Six Days of War

by Michael B. Oren

  His early accomplishments were indeed astonishing. Single-handedly, it appeared, he had secured Britain’s evacuation of the Canal Zone, acquired Soviet weapons, then nationalized the Canal; had fought off the Tripartite Aggression and made Arab unity a fact. Millions of Arabs revered him with a religious awe, and global leaders courted him as a spokesman for Third World nationalism, a champion, along with Nehru and Nkrumah, of nonalignment. A quiet man renowned for his attentiveness and humor, he lived frugally, faithfully with his wife and children, and, in a country notorious for graft, was by all accounts incorruptible.

  But then, just as stunningly, the edifice crumbled. The breakup with Syria and the Arab monarchies, the nightmare of Yemen, and his estrangement from the United States—all followed in succession against the backdrop of unremitting domestic decline. Nasserism, the movement that bore his name, was effectively dead, the victim of a bizarre consortium of Syrians and Saudis, Jordanians and Palestinians. By 1967, Nasser was overweight and glassy-eyed—the result, perhaps, of his worsening diabetes—irascible and paranoid. “He knows how to start things, fine,” Akram Hawrani, a Syrian leader, remarked of him, “but he doesn’t know how to finish.” The irrational element always present in Nasser’s decision making, that had once passed for pluck, now predominated.

  “His rule of government was that of the man who is not secure unless he acts through a secret apparatus,” recalled Husayn Sabri, one of the original Free Officers, commenting on the massive police network (al-Mukhabarat) Nasser had constructed around himself. Egyptian literary critic Louis Awad put a finer point on it: “The law under the Nasser regime went on holiday.” Reelected by a 99.99 percent majority, presiding over ministerial meetings in which he, alone, spoke and often ranted, Nasser had degenerated into a vindictive military dictator—an “Athanasius contra mundum,” in one British diplomat’s words—embittered against the world.14

  What remained of Nasser was his pride, which, in an inverse process to his fortunes, had expanded monumentally. “It has to do again with a loss of face…with a sort of Messianic complex,” Lucius Battle commented; “Nasser doesn’t like to be proved wrong and can never admit to these wrongs.”15 That pride, already wounded by the Saudis and the Americans, had led to Egypt’s deepened involvement in Yemen and a vendetta against President Johnson. Yet even graver affronts were being hurled from Jordan. Particularly biting were the charges, broadcast over Amman’s powerful Marconi transmitters, of Nasser’s fear of confronting the Israelis, his refusal to emerge from behind UNEF. The Egyptian leader, who had managed to hide UNEF’s existence and Israeli traffic through the Straits from the vast majority of his countrymen, was mortified. Pride demanded that he retaliate, but how?

  The answer was presently provided by Abd al-Hakim ‘Amer. In Pakistan on a state visit on December 4, ‘Amer wired Nasser with a proposal for ordering UNEF off Egyptian soil, concentrating Egypt’s army in Sinai and reinstating the blockade in the Straits of Tiran. In addition to “taking the wind out of Hussein’s sails,” the action would deny Israel maneuverability in attacking either Jordan or Syria. Rather, the Israelis would eventually feel compelled to strike against Egypt, a battle that would last three to five days before the UN intervened and imposed a cease-fire. As in 1956, Israel would be condemned as the aggressor and forced to ignominiously withdraw, while Egypt appeared as the Arabs’ savior.

  The notion of ousting the peacekeepers was hardly new with ’Amer. A searing reminder that the 1956 war was not quite the “victory” he claimed, UNEF had always been a source of dishonor for the field marshal, a check on the military might he wielded. ‘Amer had tendered a similar plan the previous year, during the rotation of Egyptian troops in Yemen, but then, as now, Nasser rejected it.

  The reasons for that rejection were manifold. No less than ‘Amer, Nasser felt the humiliation of UNEF and looked forward to its removal. “Both President Gamal Abdel Nasser and Marshal ‘Amer made it clear to me before 1967 that they wanted to seize on any international or regional situation which would permit doing away with that force,” recalled Gen. Muhammad Fawzi, Egypt’s chief of staff. A CIA report of April 18, 1967, has Nasser telling a senior Egyptian diplomat of his desire to rid Sinai of UNEF and close the Straits of Tiran. But for Nasser there were also questions of timing, of preparedness. The elimination of UNEF meant Egypt’s return to active belligerency against Israel; even if the Israelis did not act, Egypt would no longer have an excuse not to. Thus, in a 1965 speech to PLO delegates, he elaborated: “The Syrians say ‘drive out UNEF.’ But if we do, is it not essential that we have a plan? If Israeli aggression takes place against Syria, shall I attack Israel? Then Israel is the one which determines the battle for me…Is it conceivable that I should attack Israel while there are 50,000 Egyptian troops in Yemen?”16

  Two years had passed and those same questions remained unanswered. Rather than ebbing, the war in Yemen had intensified, with Egyptian planes again bombing Saudi bases, carpeting them with poison gas. Egyptian officers, disgruntled, were reportedly on the brink of revolt. Yet the army would fight another twenty years if necessary, Cairo declared.

  Between Arab leaders, meanwhile, coordination on security matters had all but disintegrated. Defense Council meetings in January and February 1967, both boycotted by Saudi Arabia and Jordan, again revealed the member states’ failure to fulfill their pledges to the United Arab Command and the serious misuse of the few funds it had. “We just sat around and did nothing,” recalled Gen. Yusuf Khawwash, Jordan’s representative to the UAC General Staff. “But we did write some good studies.” A report filed in March by ‘Ali ‘Ali ‘Amer concluded that “the situation cannot facilitate the implementation of the task assigned [to the UAC], namely, the strengthening of Arab defense in order to ensure future freedom of action and to pave the way to the liberation of Palestine.” Rather than the defeat of Israel, warned the UAC’s commander, war at this time was liable to result in a substantial loss of Arab land.

  These factors—Yemen, the absence of a viable military option against Israel—persuaded Nasser that the time was not yet right for the expulsion of UNEF. The Palestine issue would remain securely “in the icebox” until such time as Egypt and the Arab world could afford to have it thawed.17 Yet there was another consideration in Nasser’s decision, internal and highly personal. It related to the source of the recommendation itself, ‘Abd al-Hakim ‘Amer.

  They could not have been closer friends, Nasser and ‘Amer. They came from similar humble backgrounds; as young officers had served together in the Sudan, and together plotted the 1952 revolution. Nasser named his son ‘Abd al-Hakim and ‘Amer married Amal, his daughter, to Nasser’s younger brother, Hussein. Their summerhouses in Alexandria were adjacent, and they called each other “brother”—Akhi—or by their nicknames: ‘Jimmy’ for Nasser, and ‘Robinson’ for ‘Amer, who liked to travel. So deep was their intimacy that Nasser forgave ’Amer his pitiable showing in the Suez crisis, during which he reportedly suffered a nervous breakdown, and then his gross mismanagement of the union with Syria. He forgave, too, the bouts of alcohol and drug abuse to which ‘Amer was prone, and ‘Amer’s secret marriage, unbeknownst to his wife, to Egyptian film star Berlinti ‘Abd al-Hamid. Thin and swarthy, famously indolent and crude, ‘Amer would seem an unlikely candidate for challenging Nasser’s rule. Yet ‘Amer was also a man of unbridled ambition, lavish toward those who supported him, ruthless with anyone opposed.

  That ruthlessness finally dawned on Nasser in 1962, with the first reports of ’Amer’s corruption in Yemen and his refusal to accept greater civilian control over the army. When Nasser tried to create a Presidential Council to over-see military activities, officers loyal to ‘Amer threatened to revolt. Nasser backed down, and rather than circumscribing ‘Amer’s power, he ended up boosting it. Now ‘Amer was first vice president in charge of the armed forces, a position he used to turn the army into his personal fiefdom, promoting officers on the basis of fealty rather than prowess, surrounding
himself with a clique (sila) of abl al-thiqa: yes-men. He promoted himself as well, to Mushir—field marshal—the highest rank in the Arab world.

  And still his power grew. Five years later his titles included minister of science and chairman of the Egyptian Atomic Energy Commission, head of the Cairo Transportation Board and the Committee for Liquidating Feudalism, and even president of Egypt’s scouts and football federations. He could appoint one-half of the seats on the Presidential Council, one-third of all ministerial and two-thirds of all ambassadorial posts. Nor was his influence confined to the domestic scene; Soviet communiqués of the period consistently emphasized his prominence, equating it with Nasser’s. “The ‘Mushir’…will have involved himself in nearly every phase of Egyptian life to a degree which seems to make him the undisputed heir apparent,” reported America’s embassy in Cairo, and Nasser would have certainly agreed. Yet when it came to ’Amer, the Egyptian president was either too fearful or too enamored—or both—to act. He put ‘Amer under constant surveillance but refused to have him purged. “I would rather resign,” he said.18

  This profound ambivalence in Nasser’s relationship with ‘Amer would cast its shadow over the proposal to rid Egypt of UNEF. If Nasser, reluctant to give ‘Amer credit for removing the force and restoring Egypt’s army to Sinai, refused to approve the suggestion, neither did he reject it outright. Rather, he ordered the establishment of a committee to examine the eviction of UNEF in all its possible ramifications. Efforts were made to sound out the Soviets on the idea, and to seek the opinions of U Thant, the UN Secretary-General.19

  But action on UNEF was still consigned to the future; Nasser had no immediate plans vis-à-vis Israel. In selecting a culprit for Egypt’s woes, his preference remained the United States. In a February 22 speech that, Battle reported, “gathered up all the anti-American themes of the last few years and rolled them into one,” Nasser linked “America” with “imperialism” no less than 100 times. Underscoring this message was an eight-part series in al-Ahram by the paper’s editor, Nasser’s confidant, Mohamed Hassanein Heikal, which accused the U.S. of masterminding a “vast secret apparatus” designed to destroy Arab revolutionary regimes through “economic and psychological warfare [and] the hatching of plots and assassinations.”

  Battle, about to conclude his Cairo tour, speculated that Nasser’s grim domestic situation would soon compel him toward some dramatic act abroad—in Yemen most probably, or in Africa. Battle’s chargé d’affaires, David G. Nes, agreed, noting that Nasser had reached “a degree of irrationality bordering on madness, fed, of course, by the frustrations and fears generated by his failures domestic and foreign…[W]here will he strike next—Libya? Lebanon?” The possibility that Nasser’s next target might be Israel scarcely occurred to the Americans.20

  Israel indeed seemed to have dropped from Nasser’s agenda. Hosting Iraq’s new headman, ‘Abd al-Rahman Muhammad ‘Aref, Nasser admitted, “we cannot handle the Palestine question,” which could only be solved, he claimed, through “continuous planning in a series of phases.” Coming from the man who had once vowed “never to forget the rights of the Palestinian people” and someday to “recruit two to three million men in order to liberate Palestine,” these were hardly fighting words. Nor did he need them to be, as long as there was quiet on the Syrian front.21

  The Syrian Sphinx

  Quiet on the Israel-Syrian border was always relative, of course. Since November and the signing of the Egyptian-Syrian treaty—since the Samu’ operation and the failure of either Syria or Egypt to react to it—Damascus seemed eager to observe a tacit cease-fire. From then to the end of the year, few incidents of note were recorded. Then, starting in early January 1967, the area again began to simmer. Syrian tanks rained thirty-one shells on Kibbutz Almagor and wounded two members of Kibbutz Shamir with machine-gun fire. Clashes continued for a week before culminating in the death of one Israeli and the wounding of two others by an antipersonnel mine planted at Moshav Dishon. Al-Fatah took credit for the attack; the mine bore Syrian army markings. A candid Radio Damascus revealed on January 16 that “Syria has changed its strategy, moving from defense to attack…We will carry on operations until Israel has been eliminated.”22

  The reasons for this upsurge were obscure, as inscrutable as the Syrian regime itself. There was, still, the Ba’thist ideology that placed a premium on eliminating Israel, the “expanding pus which disseminates poisons of hatred and animosity,” as a means of uniting the Arab world and ridding it of “reactionaries”—a process inverse to Nasser’s, where unity was a precondition for warfare. “Our heroic people, singing songs of war, is longing to begin the final battle,” declared the official daily al-Ba’th in a typical headline; “there is no way to remove occupation other than by smashing the enemy’s bases and destroying his power.” The day of action was imminent, said Col. Mustafa Tlas, the flashy and garrulous commander of the central front, because Arab conservatives were cowards and Syria could no longer wait.23 War was much of what the Ba’th was about, a large part of its raison d’être.

  Yet more than ideology lay behind Syria’s border policy. Precisely at this juncture, in January, the regime was engaged in a protracted feud with the Iraq Petroleum Company. Dissatisfied with the payment received for permitting Iraqi oil to flow via pipeline over Syrian territory to the sea, Syria denounced the British-owned IPC as an agent of imperialism in the invidious pay of Israel. “The revolutionary flame emanating from the oil battle is the obvious cause for the Zionists’ daily movements along our borders,” Damascus radio explained. “Victory over the IPC,” echoed al-Ba’th, is “just a first step…leading to the purification of Arab land from imperialism, reaction and Zionism.”24 In the peculiar logic of Damascus, the border situation and the oil negotiations were obverse sides of the same coin; showing stalwartness on one was sure to redound boldly on the other.

  Then there were Syria’s relations with Moscow, no less enigmatic. Soviet policy continued to pull in opposite directions, bolstering Syria politically and militarily, while also working to restrain its aggressive tendencies. This bifurcation seemed to reflect a continuing dissonance within the Kremlin itself. At the exact time when Foreign Minister Andre Gromyko was impressing upon the Politburo the need to avoid further conflicts with the United States, particularly in the Middle East, the Soviet fleet was rapidly building up in the eastern Mediterranean. In Damascus, Soviet diplomats were urging the regime to tone down its bellicose rhetoric, while in the field, Red Army advisers were spurring the Syrian army to activism. Ambitious to achieve its long-standing dream of isolating Turkey and controlling strategic waterways of the East, of neutralizing the threat posed by the U.S. Sixth Fleet, the Soviets were at the same time afraid of war, and afraid of the Arab radicalism that could trigger it.25

  These contradictory impulses found expression in the repeated Soviet warnings of Israeli troops massing on the northern border—such warnings came in October and November 1966, and again in January 1967, each insistently denied by Israel—alongside expressions of support for Syria’s shelling of Israeli settlements. Soviet schizophrenia was also in evidence during the state visit of Syrian strongman Salah Jadid on January 20. Noticeably snubbed by Kremlin leaders, Jadid nevertheless came away with pledges for large-scale military aid and backing for his stand against “aggressive Zionism.” To both Israeli and American observers, the Soviets appeared to want to maintain a low boil in the Middle East, aiming for “tensions without explosions,” for “small rather than big trouble.”26

  Emboldened by the Soviets, incited by their struggle with the IPC, Syrian leaders had another, personal, reason for increasing tensions with Israel. Despised by the general population, the ruling clique was also internally divided—officers against the civilian “doctors,” President al-Atassi and Foreign Minister Makhous—and the officers amongst themselves. Hafez al-Assad, with the support of the air force, was pitted against the army and President Jadid, while both generals were opposed by Intellig
ence Chief’Abd al-Karim al-Jundi. On January 17, three of al-Jundi’s men reportedly tried to assassinate al-Assad, shooting at his car while the defense minister was en route to his physician. If true, the ambush was not an extraordinary event. Often the gray boredom of radically socialist Damascus was broken by explosions and the crackle of gunfire; soldiers surrounded the ministries. Ranking officers and even government ministers were routinely arrested, and death sentences handed down for a range of political crimes, from “spreading confessional bigotry” to “hindering the socialist order.”27

  Such internal conflicts greatly deepened the regime’s insecurity and, to overcome it, the need to “out-Nasser Nasser”—the CIA’s phrase—in confronting Israel. In a secret meeting with one Farid ‘Awda, a businessman with close links to Britain, Hafez al-Assad tried to solicit money and guns for a “diversion on the southern [Israeli] front.” This would allow him to oust both Jadid and Atassi and to avoid an imminent Egypt-led Sunni coup in Syria. The IPC controversy, Assad promised, could then be solved immediately.28

  All these factors, foreign and domestic, impacted on the border, where violence steadily mounted throughout the early months of 1967. Fearing the outbreak of war, U Thant called on the parties to resolve their differences within the framework of the Israeli-Syrian Mixed Armistice Commission. Though it had received some 66,000 complaints over the years, most of them relating to the DZ’s, the ISMAC had only intermittently functioned. Obstructing its work was Syria’s demand for control over the DZ’s, Israel’s rejection of that demand, and the unmasked animosity between the delegates.