Years of Upheaval

by Henry Kissinger

  This was made explicit in message number two from Sadat to Nixon. It agreed with not only the substance but also the reasoning of the message sent in Nixon’s name the previous night:

  I understand the considerations you have put forward with respect to the use of a joint US–USSR force, and we have already asked the Security Council for the speedy dispatch of an international force to the area to review the implementation of the Security Council Resolutions. This we hope will pave the way toward further measures as envisaged in the October 22 Resolution of the Security Council aimed at establishing a just peace in the area.

  We were on the verge of winning the diplomatic game. Without Egyptian support it was very unlikely that there could be a UN resolution calling for a US–Soviet force. If the Soviets sent troops it would be unilaterally, without the sanction of either the host country or the UN. This would be much easier for us to resist and we were determined to do so. It showed — though we could only guess this at the moment — that Sadat was staking his future on American diplomatic support rather than Soviet military pressure.

  The second silver lining was an early morning report from John Scali at the UN. After his strong opposition to a joint US–Soviet force the previous evening, enthusiasm for the idea had cooled noticeably. The Security Council is rarely prepared to vote against the determined opposition of one of the superpowers if it is given any alternative. And it will be ingenious in finding alternatives. The nonaligned, faced with a United States veto, had early on October 25 tabled a draft resolution asking the Secretary-General to increase the number of UN observers and “to set up immediately a United Nations Emergency Force under [Security Council] authority.” Though vaguely phrased, the draft resolution would open the way to excluding the superpowers from the Emergency Force. The Council was to meet at 10:30 A.M. to consider the draft.

  Later in the morning we received the British reaction to Brezhnev’s letter — which was the same as ours. Cromer informed us that “they [London] certainly take Brezhnev’s message just the same as you do.” The British Ambassador to Moscow had been asked to make urgent representations to Brezhnev to warn against unilateral military action.

  It was thus in a hopeful, if still tense, mood that Haig and I briefed Nixon shortly after 8:00 A.M. that Thursday, October 25. I did not know what conversations Haig had had with Nixon in the early hours of the morning. To make sure, I reviewed the diplomatic and military moves of the night before. As always in crises, Nixon was clearheaded and crisp. We agreed that it would be unprecedented — and hence a major challenge — if the Soviet Union put organized combat units into an area far from its periphery and against the will of the local government. Despite the War Powers Act passed a few days earlier, Nixon was determined to match any Soviet troop buildup in the area and leave it to the Congress to terminate his move — as the new law made possible.

  After the meeting with Nixon, a Presidential reply to Sadat was dispatched. It welcomed Sadat’s “statesmanlike approach to the issue of peacekeeping” and indicated American support for an international force excluding the permanent members of the Security Council.

  From 8:40 to 10:00 A.M. Nixon and I briefed Congressional leaders about the night’s events. These distinguished men were at once supportive, rudderless, and ambivalent. They approved the alert; they were enthusiastic about our refusal to accept a joint US–Soviet force. But their support reflected more the Vietnam-era isolationism than a strategic assessment. They opposed a joint US–Soviet force because they wanted no American troops sent abroad; the American component of the proposed force bothered them a great deal more than the Soviet one. By the same token, they would object to the dispatch of American forces even if, in our view, they were needed to resist a unilateral Soviet move. That such an abdication might shake the global equilibrium and vital American interests was not considered conclusive. The spirit of cooperation thus cooled noticeably when Nixon outlined our determination to match a unilateral Soviet troop presence with an American one either in Israel or in friendly Arab countries. Several of the Congressional leaders expressed the gravest reservations. And while they did not go so far as to indicate outright opposition, they made it clear enough that support for the alert should not be interpreted as endorsing the movement of troops.

  This sobering encounter was on my mind when, after another WSAG meeting at 10:15 A.M., I met the press at noon. Contradictory crosscurrents in the mood of the public and the Congress were buffeting us. There was a growing debate over détente, a mounting clamor that in some undefinable way we were being gulled by the Soviets. The opposite was true; our policy to reduce and where possible to eliminate Soviet influence in the Middle East was in fact making progress under the cover of détente. An end to détente would have triggered the Soviets into a political assault on us in the Middle East that would, at a minimum, have greatly complicated our strategy. And an open confrontation with the Soviets would be taking place at a point of maximum weakness of our executive authority. Could we sustain it, and for what purpose? What stronger course would the rhetoricians of toughness have proposed than the policy we were in fact pursuing? Détente was not a favor we did the Soviets. It was partly necessity; partly a tranquilizer for Moscow as we sought to draw the Middle East into closer relations with us at the Soviets’ expense; partly the moral imperative of the nuclear age.

  Hence I began the press conference — without notes — with a cold yet philosophical explanation of our conception of US–Soviet relations:

  The United States and the Soviet Union are, of course, ideological and, to some extent, political adversaries. But the United States and the Soviet Union also have a very special responsibility. We possess — each of us — nuclear arsenals capable of annihilating humanity. We — both of us — have a special duty to see to it that confrontations are kept within bounds that do not threaten civilized life. Both of us, sooner or later, will have to come to realize that the issues that divide the world today, and foreseeable issues, do not justify the unparalleled catastrophe that a nuclear war would represent. . . .

  In a speech — Pacem in Terris — I pointed out that there are limits beyond which we cannot go. I stated that we will oppose the attempt by any country to achieve a position of predominance, either globally or regionally; that we would resist any attempt to exploit a policy of détente to weaken our alliances; and that we would react if the relaxations of tensions were used as a cover to exacerbate conflicts in international trouble spots. We have followed these principles in the current situation.

  It is easy to start confrontations, but in this age we have to know where we will be at the end and not only what pose to strike at the beginning.

  I left no doubt of our determination in the immediate crisis:

  The United States does not favor and will not approve the sending of a joint Soviet-United States force into the Middle East. The United States believes that what is needed in the Middle East above all is a determination of the facts, a determination where the lines are, and a determination of who is doing the shooting, so that the Security Council can take appropriate action. It is inconceivable that the forces of the great powers should be introduced in the numbers that would be necessary to overpower both of the participants. It is inconceivable that we should transplant the great-power rivalry into the Middle East or, alternatively, that we should impose a military condominium by the United States and the Soviet Union. The United States is even more opposed to the unilateral introduction by any great power, especially by any nuclear power, of military forces into the Middle East in whatever guise those forces should be introduced.

  I went on to explain, deliberately vaguely, that “the ambiguity of some of the actions and communications and certain readiness measures that were observed” had led to the decision to order precautionary military measures on our part. If crisis management requires cold and even brutal measures to show determination, it also imposes the need to show the opponent a way out. Grandstanding is good for the
ego but bad foreign policy. A public challenge could provoke the Soviets to dig in beyond what the Politburo might consider prudent. Many wars have started because no line of retreat was left open. Superpowers have a special obligation not to humiliate each other. Precisely because we were well on the way to success — and the Soviets knew it — I presented the outcome in terms compatible with Soviet self-respect:

  I would like to make clear that as of now the Soviet Union has not yet taken any irrevocable action. It is our hope that such an action will not be taken.

  I repeat again what I have said on many occasions in this press conference. We are not seeking an opportunity to confront the Soviet Union. We are not asking the Soviet Union to pull back from anything that it has done.

  The opportunity for pursuing the joint course in the Security Council and in the diplomacy afterward is open. The measures we took and which the President ordered were precautionary in nature. They were not directed at any actions that had already been taken. And therefore there is no reason for any country to back off anything that it has not yet done. . . .

  I said nothing about the Brezhnev letter, preferring not to involve the General Secretary’s personal prestige. It did little good. Somehow Senator Henry M. Jackson had learned of the letter, despite the small number of people aware of its existence, and had publicly described it as “brutal” and “threatening.” One reporter asked me about Jackson’s statement. I evaded a comment, subsequently indicating — unwisely — that in a week’s time more of the facts would be made available.VII My responsibility was not to score debating points; it was to defend American interests in a hazardous environment. And history teaches that the most perilous moment is often when an adversary is seemingly prepared to retreat and is then jolted into new defiance by an assault on his self-esteem.

  The alert was immediately engulfed in the cynicism spawned by Watergate. Two kinds of questions were hurled at me: whether Soviet actions had been caused by our domestic disputes; and its opposite, whether we had generated the crisis for domestic rather than foreign policy reasons — whether, in the unsubtle question of one journalist, our actions had indeed been “rational.” The query about Soviet motives gave me an opportunity to hint at my recurrent nightmare: “One cannot have a crisis of authority ir a society for a period of months without paying a price somewhere along the line.”

  The queries as to our motives were even more wounding to us who had agonized through a night of desperate uncertainty. Yet it showed how narrow was our margin for policy. If we courted confrontation, following the advice of the anti-détente zealots, we would almost surely be undermined by the Watergate bloodhounds who would treat every challenge to the Soviet Union as a maneuver by which their hated quarry, Nixon, was trying to escape them. To broaden our maneuvering room, I replied rather heatedly:

  We are attempting to conduct the foreign policy of the United States with regard for what we owe not just to the electorate but to future generations. And it is a symptom of what is happening to our country that it could even be suggested that the United States would alert its forces for domestic reasons. . . .

  And in reply to another question:

  We are attempting to preserve the peace in very difficult circumstances. It is up to you ladies and gentlemen to determine whether this is the moment to try to create a crisis of confidence in the field of foreign policy as well. . . .

  There has to be a minimum of confidence that the senior officials of the American government are not playing with the lives of the American people.

  I tremble at the thought of what fate would have been in store for us in such an environment if we had had to sustain a crisis for very many days. It was fortunate that the Soviets, too, feared to run the risks of a prolonged confrontation, even in the context of our fragile domestic balance.

  Immediately after the press conference, at 1:10 P.M., I found a message from Sadat formally accepting an international force composed of nonpermanent members of the Security Council (the reference to the Security Council was a drafting error; he meant to exclude permanent members of the Security Council but leave participation open to any other UN members). A few minutes later I learned from Waldheim that Soviet Ambassador Malik would support the same scheme.

  At 2:40 P.M. Dobrynin phoned to say he had another letter from Brezhnev. It was written as if the crisis of the night before had never occurred. Without any reference to the previous night’s threat of unilateral intervention, Brezhnev informed Nixon instead that he had dispatched seventy Soviet “representatives” — apparently not military personnel — to observe the implementation of the cease-fire. Indeed, Brezhnev with characteristic swagger presented his standdown from confrontation as if we were yielding to his proposal: “Since you are ready now, as we understand, to send to Egypt a group of American observers with the same task, we agree to act jointly in this question.” And he advanced the startling thesis that the events of the past twenty-four hours should be the prelude to even more conspicuous cooperation:

  Following the dispatch of observers we in an urgent manner will continue also our other political measures which correspond to the decision of the Security Council and to the understanding between us, reached in Moscow with Dr. Kissinger, who conducted negotiations on your behalf.

  The Soviets had backed off. The immediate danger was over. We were still navigating a narrow passage. But we now knew that with luck and skill we would enhance our influence on the peace process; indeed, that prospect had already helped persuade Sadat to refrain from inviting Soviet military forces back on Egyptian soil.

  There was the usual aftermath of a crisis: the mixture of relief, letdown, and premonition that some other, if lesser, challenge would take its turn. I phoned Jim Schlesinger, my partner in the all-night session in the Situation Room, and thanked him and Tom Moorer and Bill Clements for their contributions. I did so with conviction, for their dedication and strength had carried us through the crisis of authority, enabling us to act with rare decisiveness and unity. I recommended that Schlesinger stand down the alert starting at midnight.

  Phone calls came in from leading journalists with the common plea that more information be made public to convince a skeptical press corps that the crisis had indeed been genuine. One columnist was bothered because “the evidence given for so important an act seemed so flimsy as not to be credible.” My answers were more charitable than were my sentiments. At this point, adding to the Soviet Union’s public humiliation would have been a decidedly unwise course.

  At 3:05 P.M. Thursday, I reviewed the situation with an elated Nixon. We discussed the Security Council resolution, plans for standing down the alert, Brezhnev’s letter. I told him that I had not characterized the October 24 letter at my own press conference because it seemed to me dangerous to turn the issue into a personal confrontation between the President and the General Secretary. Nixon was outraged at the media’s insinuation that he had personally generated the crisis to ease his domestic difficulties — an allegation he knew better than his critics to have been inherently impossible.

  During the course of the afternoon, Security Council Resolution 340 was passed. It reiterated the call for a return to the lines of the original cease-fire of October 22; we had succeeded in substituting the more neutral word “return” for the original word “withdraw.” It established an international force comprised of UN members excluding the great powers. (The text of Resolution 340 is in the backnotes.)7 By phone I pressed Waldheim to exclude other Soviet-bloc nations by the formula that no member of existing military alliances should be invited to participate.

  Golda adamantly objected to this resolution as she had to the one the previous day. She would take no chance — alert or no — that even tactical divergences with Israel might become habit-forming.

  Meanwhile we had been exchanging messages all day with Cairo, which had asked for help with blood plasma and other medical supplies to the beleaguered Third Army. Israel, while agreeing in principle, was in
no hurry to expedite any kind of supplies; it was still hoping for surrender of the Third Army.

  My own thoughts turned increasingly to the diplomacy by which we might alter the moment’s delicate balance. Having barely surmounted the crisis, I wanted to fix Arab minds on the prospects of peace. Late on October 25, on the pretext of inquiring about technical arrangements for my visit to Cairo, I sent a message to Hafiz Ismail elaborating on the purpose of my visit:

  I look forward to meeting with you and whomever else you feel appropriate, and to constructive preliminary discussions on the range of issues that are of concern to both our countries. In the period before we meet we must both seek to ensure that a constructive atmosphere is maintained in relations between Egypt and the United States.

  At the end of the day Nixon called from Camp David to congratulate me on the television coverage of my press conference. He was understandably obsessed by Watergate — the “Saturday night massacre” had, after all, occurred only five days earlier and Congress was even then moving toward impeachment. Where public relations was concerned, Nixon believed in overkill. He now wanted me to bring the heads of major news organizations into the White House the next day and brief them about the alert. He wanted me to stress his indispensability. What if House Speaker Carl Albert — at that moment next in line to the Presidency — had been faced with the problem? A few minutes later he had the idea that I should make the same pitch to Jewish leaders: “Get the whole bunch in a room and say you are American first, and members of the American Jewish Community, and interested in Israel. Who is going to save Israel and who will save it in the future?”