Thirteen Days in September

by Lawrence Wright

  Carter then brought up Jerusalem. He knew how important it was to the Egyptians, but this was one issue Carter wanted to take off the table—for Sadat’s sake. Any compromise would be subject to attack by the radicals on both sides; it was just too dangerous for Sadat to try to resolve by himself. Carter advised him to wait and involve King Hussein and others so that he didn’t bear the responsibility alone. Sadat listened but didn’t respond.

  “Sadat is smarter than I am,” Carter told Rosalynn at lunch. He related that in the first fifteen minutes of their meeting that morning, Sadat had told him four things about Begin:

  1. He does not want or intend to sign anything while he is here.

  2. Camp David will expose him.

  3. He wants land.

  4. Camp David is a trap for him.

  “I think he is right on all four,” Carter said.

  WHILE JIMMY AND ROSALYNN were having lunch, the anxious Egyptian delegation finally met privately with Sadat. All morning the Egyptians had been watching their Israeli counterparts running or cycling over to Holly Lodge, where the Americans were furiously incorporating the Israeli objections into the new draft. The Israelis would hand over a few pages, then race back to their cabin. Soon, an American would hop on a bicycle and take new pages over to the Israelis. The level of suspicion in the Egyptian delegation was naturally quite high, and they deeply resented the unbalanced relationship of the three parties—two against one, in their opinion.

  But the Egyptians were not just negotiating with the Americans and the Israelis; the real problem was their own president. Until now, Sadat was the only member of his team to have seen the American proposal. He finally presented it and asked Boutros-Ghali to read the document aloud, before opening the floor for comments. It immediately became obvious to the frustrated delegates that he was paying no attention to their remarks. Whenever Sadat became distracted he would stare into space and fiddle with his pipe. He readily consented when Mohamed Kamel suggested that the delegation be allowed to withdraw and discuss the proposal privately.

  Kamel believed that the American document was thoroughly contaminated by Israeli ideas. The right to Palestinian self-determination and the return of the refugees had been made impossibly vague. There was no demand for Israeli withdrawal from Sinai and the West Bank. The document seemed to be created to respond to Israel’s security needs at the expense of all other issues.

  When the rest of his team returned to give their reactions, Sadat’s mood had radically changed. It was as if a storm had blown in. He raged against Begin’s intransigence, complaining that the American proposal called for the return of Sinai to Egypt in stages rather than all at once. The delegates cheered him; they all felt the same way. Then Sadat announced that he was withdrawing from the talks and leaving Camp David the next morning.

  What? Leaving? Boutros-Ghali delicately suggested that walking away from Camp David with nothing in hand would place Sadat’s government in jeopardy. Sadat snapped at him, “You don’t understand anything about politics!” Then he ordered everyone out so he could take a nap.

  The dazed Kamel wandered over to the dining hall with Tohamy. What were they to do now? Were they really leaving, or was this another bit of Sadat’s theatrics? On the way the two men ran into President Carter on his bicycle. He greeted them and expressed hope that they would be able to reach agreement in the next few days. “I am sorry to say I don’t share your optimism, Mr. President,” Kamel responded. “The Israeli attitude is as obdurate and unyielding as ever. And the U.S. project submitted to us falls far short of the minimum we can accept.”

  Carter explained that the text was subject to negotiation; the point was to reach an agreement acceptable to both parties.

  “Our problem is that we are not entitled to make any concessions on the occupied Arab territories,” Kamel said. “We can be very flexible on security arrangements and peace relations. However, it is obvious that this is not what Israel is after.” He begged Carter not to pressure Sadat any further. The other Arab states would not approve of a pact that included territorial concessions. “If you want this conference to succeed, an agreement which provides for Israeli withdrawal from the West Bank, Gaza and Arab Jerusalem must be reached. This will induce the other parties to join in the peace process.”

  “It seems to me you fail to realize my aim,” Carter said icily. “I don’t think it would be fair to ask President Sadat to bear the whole responsibility for the Arab-Israeli conflict.” He confided that he intended to ask for the support of the kings of Jordan and Saudi Arabia as well.

  “There we go again!” Kamel exclaimed. “Neither King Hussein nor King Khalid will agree to join the talks unless these were to be based upon Israel’s withdrawal from the West Bank and Jerusalem.”

  Carter turned his bicycle around and rode away, leaving Kamel feeling even more frustrated and isolated from the negotiations.

  Kamel went immediately to Sadat and reported the conversation with Carter. He found the Egyptian president sitting alone, bored and lonely. With the Americans now taking the lead in the negotiations, neither Sadat nor Begin had much to do except to wait anxiously for the next draft. Each of the leaders relapsed into a kind of nervous passivity, while Carter drove himself endlessly.

  As Kamel was giving his account, the phone rang in Sadat’s cabin. It was King Hussein. Sadat told the Jordanian monarch that he was not optimistic about reaching an agreement because of Begin’s determined resistance to new ideas. He begged Hussein to join the summit, but the king refused, saying that he could not do so until Israel guaranteed a total withdrawal from the West Bank. It was just as Kamel had warned Carter. Sadat was in this alone. He would pay the price.

  When Kamel returned to his cabin, Boutros-Ghali tried once again to calm him down. Kamel said he felt betrayed by the Americans, who had obviously folded in the face of Israeli pressure. It was a trap, he believed; at every step the Egyptians would be negotiating not with the Israelis but with their American partners. The grand Egyptian design for Camp David was to create a deeper alliance with the Americans, no matter what the outcome of the talks with Israel. Now Sadat was risking Egypt’s relationship with the U.S., and there was nothing Kamel could do about it. Sadat was negotiating behind their back.

  Boutros-Ghali pointed out that they were only present to support Sadat. “We must offer al-Rayyis our advice,” he said, using the Egyptian term for chief, “but the final decision is his.”

  “But al-Rayyis is possessed!” Kamel cried.

  AFTER LUNCH, the weather turned chilly and a light rain fell, reflecting the dampened spirits of the delegates. Like everyone else, Weizman was exhausted, and he seized the opportunity to return to his cabin for a nap. He stripped off his clothes and plopped into bed. Suddenly, he was awakened by Carter’s voice: “Mr. Weizman!”

  Weizman was startled to see the president standing in his doorway. Horrified, Weizman jumped up and put on his pants. “I would like to talk to you,” Carter explained, with an awkward smile, staring into the middle distance as Weizman got dressed. Then the two of them went for a stroll.

  Weizman had previously been struck by the precision of Carter’s thinking. He never uttered a single superfluous syllable, sounding as though his thoughts had been programmed by a computer. “That’s the way an engineer thinks,” Weizman reminded himself, “in squares and rectangles.”

  Carter made it clear that the talks had reached a critical juncture. The Americans had offered their proposal. Neither side had accepted it. Somebody was going to have to bend. Weizman had no doubt who that somebody was supposed to be.

  By now the Americans had figured out the roles that the two top Israeli advisers played in their delegation. Weizman was there to maintain contact with the Arabs, especially Sadat, who brightened whenever the Israeli defense minister came into the room. His charm and ebullience was a welcome contrast to the dour Begin. By comparison, Dayan was a blunt instrument. Dark and pessimistic by nature, he was also a creative thi
nker and the one most likely to coax Begin into making a concession. Carter sent for him. Dayan agreed to meet after dinner, but he wanted to bring someone with him.

  The man who accompanied Dayan was Aharon Barak, one of the Israeli lawyers, who had just been appointed to Israel’s supreme court. He spoke to Carter with surprising candor. He explained that the Sinai issue was important to Begin mainly because he feared that removing the settlements in Sinai would set a precedent for the West Bank and the Golan Heights. For Carter, this was an epiphany. He also learned that Begin had pledged when he came into office that he would retire in one of the Sinai settlements, so the issue was a matter of honor to him as well. And honor was the very core of Begin’s personality.

  Carter aired his frustration about some of the latest Israeli responses to the American proposal, and a surprised Dayan pointed out that the changes weren’t nearly as drastic as he imagined. Barak and Dayan also confided that Begin was not going to totally reject the American proposal. There were three possible routes of action on each issue. One was for Begin to simply approve the matter; another was for him to approve but to refer it to the Knesset or the cabinet for confirmation; and finally, for him to disapprove the item and recommend against acceptance, but still send the matter to the government for a final decision. This was the most likely destiny for the Sinai issue.

  Carter was chagrined to realize that, in his fatigue, he had inflated the importance of some of these issues. There were so many genuine obstacles in the path to peace; he certainly didn’t need to be inventing new ones. What he gleaned from his conversation with Dayan and Barak was that Begin was not going to be the one to say no to peace. Obviously, the Israeli delegation had been working on him relentlessly. Carter went to bed a little after midnight, exhausted but hopeful for the first time in seven days.

  Day Eight

  Anwar Sadat and Jimmy Carter on the porch of Aspen Lodge

  CARTER AWAKENED EARLY, as usual, and went for a long bicycle ride around the sleeping camp. The hopes that he had taken to bed with him the night before seemed far out of reach in the chilly light of the morning. He had budgeted three or four days for the summit; now he was entering the second week with no actual progress to report. He had come face-to-face with his own limitations as a negotiator. First of all, he was overly ambitious. He wanted to fix the entire problem of the Middle East. That was naive. He wasn’t certain now that he could solve even a tiny portion of the conflict. His original vision—that Sadat and Begin could find their own solution to their problems—had failed. Their hatred and distrust for each other really did seem to be three thousand years old. The American proposal was also a failure. Both sides were using it to attack the other, demanding that unworkable formulations be inserted in the text for no clear reason other than to alienate the other side. Carter had an engineer’s conviction that any problem can be solved if it is attacked with conviction, intelligence, and persistence. Those were qualities he had in abundance, but he was beginning to see that human problems have their own irrational logic, which might be more responsive to the touch of a magician or a psychiatrist than an engineer.

  As a result of his ambition, Carter had done a poor job of setting priorities. Everything was on the table, but what was most important? Should he divide the issues into different categories; for instance, setting aside Gaza and the West Bank? Carter’s inability to delegate authority was also beginning to take its toll. While others could rest, or go to the movies or play Ping-Pong, Carter felt that his presence was essential. But he was wearing down, getting only a few hours of sleep a night, and exhaustion was clouding his mind.

  His impatience was a problem as well. If Carter let his restlessness run away with him, the project was certainly doomed, but there was a midterm election coming up in two months, and Carter should be out campaigning. The tide was still out on the economy, the prime rate was 20 percent, energy prices were peaking, and the shah of Iran was about to be pushed off his Peacock Throne by a radical cleric. Rapacious political opponents in Carter’s own party were sharpening their knives. How long could the president of the United States be away from his office? Or, for that matter, the president of Egypt or the prime minister of Israel? If Sadat and Begin failed to get an agreement they could live with, Carter’s impetuous decision to hold the summit could bring them all down. He was going to have to come up with a new strategy. It had to be today. He couldn’t hold these men here even a few more hours unless he could offer them a new pathway to peace.

  When he passed Sadat’s cabin on his way back from his bicycle ride, Carter was reminded of the danger he had placed him in. They were supposed to meet later that morning for Sadat to provide the Egyptian response to the American proposal, but as he rode past Carter saw Sadat on the porch of his cabin engaged in a violent argument with his top advisers. It was a very disturbing scene. Carter returned to Aspen Lodge with a feeling of foreboding.

  When Sadat finally arrived for the meeting later that morning, he was pale and shaken. He had a paper in his hand, but it was not the American proposal. Instinctively, Carter felt that Sadat had come to tell him that the negotiations were over. Stalling, Carter suggested that they sit beside the swimming pool, in hopes that a different environment might lighten the mood. He didn’t want Sadat to say the words that were on his tongue or perhaps even scripted for him on that paper that he gripped so anxiously.

  Carter was closer to Sadat than to any other world leader—indeed, he felt almost like a brother to him. That relationship was also at stake. He could only imagine the pressure that Sadat was under. Instead of talking about the proposal, Carter painted a portrait of Egypt at peace. Right now, Sadat had five army divisions lined up against Israel, which handicapped Egypt in fulfilling its natural role as the leader of the Arab world and the most important country on the African continent. Once Carter and Sadat put the Israeli-Egyptian dispute to rest, the two of them could move on to other problems besieging the region—in Yemen, Afghanistan, Libya, Ethiopia.

  Sadat dreamed of such a partnership. He prided himself on his astuteness in world politics; but this morning he would not take the bait. Israel had no intention of signing a peace agreement, he said; meantime, in the process of trying to appease Begin, the Americans and the Egyptians were putting forward proposals that would alienate the Arab world and inevitably push Egypt and America into separate camps.

  Thankfully, Sadat never read the paper he had in his hand, but he still seemed upset and uncertain when he left. One of the lessons that each party to the talks was beginning to learn was that, like war, making peace has unforeseen perils. The most important thing that Egypt hoped to gain from the summit was a closer relationship with the U.S., drawing upon the friendship of Sadat and Carter; but in the process of trying to achieve that, they might inadvertently sabotage the basis for any relationship at all.

  Unbeknownst to the Americans, Begin had ordered his delegation to issue a declaration that the talks were at an end, but worded in such a fashion as to suggest that the Israelis weren’t pulling the plug themselves, and stating that they were “ready to continue with negotiations anytime, anyplace.” Weizman and Dayan realized that, no matter what language they used, deserting Camp David now would leave Carter’s initiative and perhaps his presidency in ruins. What would that do to Israel’s relationship with the U.S.? How long could Israel endure without American political, military, and economic support? “This is going to end with us clearing out of here,” Weizman warned his fellow Israelis. “But Sadat will remain—and that’s the worst thing of all.”

  Begin was unyielding. He had given up on the summit. “I shall ask for a meeting with Carter today,” he told his delegates. “I’ll present our views to him and tell him what we intend to tell the Israeli people and world public opinion.”

  Dayan left the meeting of the Israeli delegation with all hope bled out of him. On his way to his cabin, he ran into Sam Lewis, the astute American ambassador to Israel. “There’s no sense to these meet
ings and negotiations,” Dayan told Lewis curtly. He said he was leaving for Israel right away. Of all the members of the Israeli delegation, Dayan had been the most creative. Now he was walking out on the proceedings. The one person who seemed most invested in getting agreement had surrendered.

  Weizman followed Dayan to his cabin. The foreign minister was squatting on the floor, packing his suitcase.

  “Moshe,” Weizman said. “Don’t be hasty. I still have faith.”

  Vance also rushed over to the Israeli cabin to plead for patience. Dayan advised him to abandon the big issues—such as the Sinai settlements—and find some limited item they could agree upon to save face. Vance rejected this idea. The whole point of Camp David was to resolve the main problems standing in the way of peace, not to produce a symbolic gesture that would leave the situation essentially unchanged. Dayan shrugged. He said he had done his best. History would show that the conversation between the two of them was the last chance to salvage something, he told Vance, and that had failed.

  WEIZMAN RESPONDED TO the president’s summons and found Carter poring over a giant map of Sinai. The White House had requested a map of the peninsula that was fifteen feet by twenty-two feet—the exact dimensions of the Camp David billiards room. Carter had spread it out over the floor and spent a considerable amount of time on his knees examining every wadi and oasis in the region. He told Weizman that he had decided to break the American proposal into two parts: one was to be the grand bargain he hoped would resolve the Middle East conflict; the other would specifically deal with the Sinai settlements in order to achieve a separate peace treaty between Israel and Egypt. From the beginning, the Israelis had hoped to separate the two issues; the trick for Carter would be in linking them in a way that would be acceptable to Sadat.