From the outset, I was determined to use the war to start a peace process. “There is no longer an excuse for a delay,” I told Haig on the morning of October 6, in our first lengthy discussion of strategy. “After we get the fighting stopped we should use this as a vehicle to get the diplomacy started.” Nixon in the following days enthusiastically agreed. On October 8 he told me:
We must not under any circumstances allow them [Israel] because of the victory that they’re going to win — and they’ll win it, thank God, they should — but we must not get away with just having this thing hang over for another four years and have us at odds with the Arab world. We’re not going to do it anymore.
A big piece of the puzzle was Soviet intentions. What had the Soviets known about the imminence of war? Would they encourage its continuation with equipment and diplomatic support? Or would they cooperate in ending it?
How much the Soviets knew of Arab plans, or encouraged them, is still unclear. There is no doubt that they realized no later than the evening of October 3 that war was imminent, because their Ambassador in Cairo was then officially informed.8 And they reacted immediately with their evacuation. Units of the Soviet fleet in Alexandria and Port Said put to sea on October 5. Did the Soviets expect us to pick up the signals, and did we fail to ask the right questions? Was it a form of warning to us without betraying their allies, or simple precaution?
There are no obvious answers, especially to the last one. Détente was conceived as a relationship between adversaries; it did not pretend friendship. No Arab leader whom I met immediately after the war gave credence to the charge of Soviet-Arab collusion. Sadat, Algerian President Boumedienne, Syrian President Asad, whatever their differences, agreed that Moscow had been grudging in its support for the Arab cause, slow in its delivery of arms, and eager to press for a ceasefire from the first day of the war. Indeed, in his autobiography Sadat insisted that while the Soviets were ignorant of his precise plans, Moscow had sought to impede any possible Egyptian move by slowing down military deliveries and working against him in Syria.9 On the other hand, after Hafiz Ismail visited Moscow in February 1973, Egypt apparently concluded that it was free to consult its own interests short of actions that might lead to a US–Soviet war. In diplomatic language this was an invitation to limited war. Then there was the strange incident of the terrorist attack on the trainload of Jews emigrating from the Soviet Union through Austria. Was this attack, a week before the war, a coincidence or a planned diversionary move? If the latter, did the Soviets acquiesce or know of the purpose? It was reported at the time that the guerrillas had boarded the train in Czechoslovakia, then seized the hostages as the train crossed the border into Austria.10 It seems inconceivable that armed men could board a train in a country as heavily policed as Czechoslovakia without the cooperation of the authorities, who in turn would never act on a matter of such serious consequence without Soviet approval.
My view is that the Soviet Union stopped short of encouraging the war but made no effort to halt it. Soviet intelligence undoubtedly deduced that some sort of military operation was being planned. Brezhnev must have decided that his warning to us in May and June fulfilled his obligation to us. The Soviets did nothing further to alert us more concretely (unless one regards the evacuation of dependents as an indirect warning). The likelihood also is that the Kremlin believed that its interests were served whatever happened. If the Arabs did well, the credit would go to Soviet arms and Soviet support. If they did poorly, Moscow thought it could emerge, as in 1967, the champion of the Arab cause; the consequent radicalization of the Arab world would strengthen Soviet friends and perhaps even get rid of Egypt’s troublesome Sadat, who had expelled Soviet personnel in July 1972.
On October 6 I had not yet reached a conclusion about Soviet foreknowledge. But there was no doubt in my mind about the geopolitical stakes. About ninety minutes after we learned of the fighting, when we fully expected a rapid Israeli victory, I told Haig for Nixon:
I think the worst thing we could do is to now take a sort of neutral position while the fighting is going on, unless the Soviets take a neutral position with us. . . . If the Soviets are all-out on the other side we have a mischievous case of collusion and then we have September 1970 all over again and we had better then be tough as nails.
We both knew, of course, that our situation was far different from that in the 1970 Jordan crisis. Then, Nixon was at the height of his power; now, his authority was deteriorating daily. In September 1973 the issue of whether Nixon should surrender tape recordings from his office had moved inexorably through the courts, and was reaching a climax at the very moment war broke out. The first indictments spawned by Watergate had been handed down, including one against John Ehrlichman. Campaign aide Donald Segretti had just pleaded guilty to three misdemeanors relating to “dirty tricks” during the 1972 Presidential race. On top of all this, Nixon was about to lose his Vice President, Spiro Agnew, in a scandal concerning alleged payoffs when Agnew was Governor of Maryland. Agnew resigned on October 10, the fourth day of the war. And the “Saturday night massacre” — the firing of Special Prosecutor Archibald Cox and the resignation of Attorney General Elliot Richardson — occurred ten days later, precisely when I was in Moscow discussing a cease-fire to end the war.
Nixon was thus preoccupied with Watergate and its ramifications throughout the Middle East crisis. This did not keep him from being informed, or from making the key decisions. But it did inhibit the frenetic, restless, penetrating leadership that had characterized his performance in previous crises. His courage had not been impaired; it was if anything reinforced by the fatalism with which he faced the last phase of his Presidency and by his desperate desire to be seen to vindicate the national interest in the area of foreign policy that was his forte. But he was too distracted to shape the decisions before they reached him; that responsibility now descended on me. I was painfully aware that whatever we did, we were likely to be accused of ulterior motives; we would have great difficulty rallying public support as we pursued the seemingly irreconcilable aims of thwarting the military designs of the side armed by the Soviets and trying to win Arab confidence, so we could both emerge as mediator and demonstrate that the road to peace led through Washington.
The first issue after the war opened concerned tactics at the United Nations. We did not want a General Assembly debate, which would have meant a diatribe of the nonaligned in support of the extreme Arab position, with the Soviets acting as the Arabs’ lawyer, our European allies maintaining at least an embarrassed silence, and the United States isolated. We were better placed in the Security Council, though there too we faced problems. One was that the Soviets, or a proxy of theirs, might introduce a resolution supporting the unattainable comprehensive Arab program, forcing us to veto and undermining our position with the Arab moderates. There would also be a strong temptation to adopt a resolution in favor of an immediate cease-fire in place. We wanted to avoid this while the attacking side was gaining territory, because it would reinforce the tendency to use the UN to ratify the gains of surprise attack. And within a short time — less than seventy-two hours, according to our experts — the tide of battle would turn, with Israel pushing the Arabs back. We would then face the complexities of an Israeli victory, Arab rage, Soviet meddling, and the danger that all frustrations would turn on us.
I therefore recommended to Nixon that we should seek to draw the Soviets into a joint approach in the Security Council. It would keep Moscow from harassing us with its own proposals; it might separate Moscow from its Arab clients. According to my scheme, the two superpowers would not assess blame but instead call for a prompt return to the lines at which the conflict had started. If the Soviets agreed and the Arabs acquiesced, the conflict would have been contained. Our losses in the Arab world would be balanced by those of the Soviets, who, as in 1972, would have been perceived in the Arab world as giving priority to their ties with Washington. If the Soviets refused, as was probable, we would have gained th
e time for Israel to restore the status quo ante by military means. At that point we could accept a simple cease-fire solution, and insist that Israel return to prewar lines if it had crossed them. Once we had made our balanced position clear, this would cool the ardor of our European allies who might be tempted to rush in with more one-sided approaches.
I quickly put our proposition to Dobrynin at 9:35 A.M. on October 6. I warned that if the Soviets acted irresponsibly we would have no choice except to let nature take its course, that is to say, simply await the inevitable Israeli victory. “That,” I said ominously, “will affect a lot of our relationships.” I told Dobrynin that we would not proceed in the Security Council until we had a reply from Moscow to our proposal and expressed the hope that Moscow in its turn would refrain from unilateral action.
Dobrynin now was cool and professional. He avowed understanding, verging on sympathy, for our approach. There was the usual discussion of the quickest means of communication, and this time he thought the Hot Line would be fastest. Since he had to assume that we would read his message, this was undoubtedly designed to show, once again, that Dobrynin had nothing to hide. I gave him permission to use the Hot Line. He did not avail himself of it. We had played our little game. We could now return to serious business.
Our first need was to gain time. Whatever the future might hold, America’s options would increase with Israeli mobilization (which would take two days to complete). Around 10:20 A.M. I briefed Kurt Waldheim on our latest thinking, emphasizing that we would oppose a General Assembly debate and wanted to wait for the Soviet response before going to the Security Council. He agreed. I also told him that we would favor a restoration of the status quo ante. Waldheim was likely to get that word around in no time, slowing down passionate advocates of radical solutions with the hint of US–Soviet cooperation. During the day I briefed several NATO allies. They were sympathetic but above all eager to get out of the direct line of fire. As I had expected, they favored a cease-fire in place but not a return to the status quo ante. In other words, they were prepared to ratify Arab military gains and to dissociate from us in the first hours of a conflict in which we bore the principal burden for the common interest — a hint of things to come. I also began phoning Congressional leaders; they were at the moment mostly confused and therefore generally supportive.
At 11:25 A.M., I told Dobrynin that we had heard rumors of an Egyptian appeal to the General Assembly; we would resist such a “grievous suggestion.” Moscow should not “destroy everything that it has taken us three years to build up.” I argued that our offer of a joint cease-fire resolution advocating a return to the status quo ante was to our mutual advantage:
[W]e don’t believe this will last 72 hours and after that the problem will be to get the Israelis back to the cease-fire line. If we agree on this course no matter what the military operations, no matter how successful the Israelis may be, we will stick to this proposal and we will be prepared to oppose them.
I asked Dobrynin for an urgent reply.
We were well positioned now. As I explained to Haig shortly afterward, if the Soviets rose to the bait of joint action, the war would end quickly. If they refused, we would let the Israelis “beat them up for a day or two and that will quiet them down. . . . [W]e should be tough in substance but not have any dramatic moves.” The only thing wrong with that smug assertion was the forecast: It took the Israelis much more than a day or two to restore their military situation and before that they were on the edge of catastrophe.
I was fortunate to have Joe Sisco as my “chief of staff” for the crisis. He was indefatigable in maintaining contact with the many diplomats in New York and Washington who were aching to play a role. He was ingenious in devising formulas for negotiations. Moreover, it did not hurt that he had a loud voice and a slightly frenetic manner. The former was useful in getting himself a hearing from me; the latter kept the staff to high standards of performance.
Meanwhile, I was devouring every shred of information available on the course of the battle. Israeli air power and ground troops were struggling to meet the coordinated Arab assault in the Golan Heights and along the Suez Canal, where Egyptian armored forces were crossing at several points.
At 2:30 P.M. I left New York for Washington. While I was airborne, Dobrynin delivered to the White House the first communication from Moscow since fighting had started. It was a stall, cast in the Soviet Embassy’s version of English:
The Soviet leadership got the information about the beginning of military actions in the Middle East at the same time as you got it. We take all possible measures to clarify real state of affairs in that region, since the information from there is of a contradictory nature. We fully share your concern about the conflagration of the situation in the Middle East. We repeatedly pointed in the past to the dangerous situation in that area.
We are considering now as well as you do, possible steps to be taken. We hope soon to contact you again for possible coordination of positions.
Soviet procrastination was not inconsistent with our own strategy of waiting for Israel to restore the military situation. And so long as Moscow was hinting at coordination, we were relieved of the danger that it would mount a political assault against us at the United Nations. Still, I thought it best to keep up the pressure. From Washington, I gave Dobrynin my assessment of the note: “Anatol, I have your message. I can’t say it is a model of solidity. It either means you are confused or you are cooperating with them.” Dobrynin volubly protested that Moscow needed only a few more hours to chart its course; meetings were taking place that very moment. I warned that we would consider a General Assembly debate a “frivolous act.” And I ratcheted our warnings another notch:
If it turns into a General Assembly debate, then we will let it take its course. We are certain it will turn out to be a military victory for the Israelis. Then everyone will come to us. If it turns nasty we will shut off communications for a while.
By evening we faced conflicting pressures. In New York, Eban favored delay at the UN, to give Israel an opportunity to complete its mobilization and reverse the Egyptian and Syrian advance. In Key Biscayne Nixon was eager to announce something showing he was giving orders: Taking the issue to the Security Council would serve that purpose. Theoretically, he was right. Had the UN been equal to its stated purpose of maintaining world peace, it would have been in session that very moment. But the UN had fallen short of its early hopes. Now, under the tutelage of its “nonaligned” majority egged on by Communist pressures, it in effect ratified military gains (when that majority was sure one of its side was winning; at this early stage nobody was sure enough what was happening to commit himself). A Security Council meeting was likely to generate rhetoric that put us on the defensive, or a resolution we might have to veto. I therefore urged delay.
When I finally received the Soviet answer at around 6:00 P.M., I found it amounted to another procrastination: Moscow still had not heard from the Arabs, so it was in no position to accept our proposition; none of the parties had yet asked for a Security Council session; the Soviet Union would only embarrass itself by proceeding to a Security Council vote in such circumstances. Like everyone else, the Soviets were waiting on the outcome of the battle.
I tried to find a way through this thicket by telling Haig in Key Biscayne that we were soon going to involve the Security Council without convening a meeting. To that end I instructed our nimble UN Ambassador, John Scali, to consume the evening in “consultations” — the process of informal meetings among the delegates, usually bilateral, by which the Security Council establishes its jurisdiction without holding a formal session or forcing matters to a vote. At 7:20 P.M. I told Dobrynin what we had decided and spelled out the options once again; we were not asking for any favors; time was on our side:
Our reading of the situation is that the Arab attack has been totally contained, that now they are going to be pushed back and this process will accelerate as the [Israeli] mobilization is completed
which will be no later than Monday morning and after that we will see what we have seen before.
The Arabs, I said, had made their point; they had crossed the Suez Canal. It was important promptly to end the war and return to the diplomatic schedule we had established before hostilities. Dobrynin rejoined with Moscow’s main concern: “As I understand our position the difficult[y] we are now facing is that the Arabs are trying to regain the lands occupied by Israel. They have been using that argument to us and for us to tell them you cannot free your land, it is ridiculous.”
He had a case. Our proposal was not easy for the Soviets, especially in the Arab mood of exultation. On the other hand, in those early hours Soviet prospects seemed far from brilliant. If they did nothing, Israel would prevail and they would appear impotent. If Moscow accepted our proposal it would hazard its Arab friendships. But it could not help its Arab associates without involving itself in the war, and that in turn risked the entire structure of détente. Thus emboldened, I concluded our phone conversation by giving Dobrynin until 9:00 A.M. the next day, Sunday, to let me know whether we could count on either a common approach to the Security Council or an independent Soviet effort to end the war at the latest by Tuesday (October 9). If your side is winning — or you think it is — you can afford such abrupt procedures. But they should not be the staple of diplomacy.
At the end of a hectic day — still October 6 — I chaired a WSAG meeting. According to our reports, the Israelis were containing the fighting on the Golan Heights and preparing for a major ground assault the next day; but the Egyptians were establishing positions east of the Canal and preparing to transfer more forces over several bridges they had built. The consensus was that after two or three more days, Israel would nevertheless have the upper hand. Indeed, I had a message from Eban that evening that the Israelis believed “there are good prospects” of forcing the Egyptian and Syrian troops out of their positions within three days. Therefore, all concerns focused on the potentially dangerous impact of the war on our long-term relations with the Arab countries. Beyond general philosophizing, only one actual decision was made: to move the Sixth Fleet closer to the fighting. This was no laughing matter on a weekend. One of the two aircraft carriers was anchored in Greece; the other in Spain. Their crews were on shore leave. It would take a couple of days to move both carriers to a point off Crete, a position that the Soviets would read as indicating that the United States was preparing for any contingency — close enough for us to act in an emergency, far enough to bespeak no aggressive intent. The rest of our fleet lay farther west; we would be able to indicate heightened concern by moving it off Cyprus. Interestingly, Soviet naval units that had left Egyptian ports on October 5 moved west. They, too, were demonstrating noninvolvement while retaining the capacity for rapid action. (The two fleets, signaling parallel intentions, later met off Crete and started milling around there. A few days later Dobrynin delivered a low-key protest about our fleet’s movement but without much conviction. Not even the Soviets would have the gall to complain of our fleet’s moving to a point where the Soviet squadron had been maneuvering for days.)
Years of Upheaval Page 70