His letter illustrated the Soviet dilemma, together with the complexity of the course we had charted. Once Brezhnev’s big bluff had failed, Soviet threats had lost much of their credibility. At the same time, their protests and complaints inevitably tended to lag behind events. With the interval needed for communication between Cairo and Moscow and then Moscow and Washington, the problems now were usually overcome or well on the way to solution by the time we heard from the Kremlin. “Only we can really deliver the Israelis,” I said to Nixon on October 31, “so they [the Soviets] are constantly trying to get themselves into a position where they can claim by threatening us or by pressuring us by doing this or that they have made us do what we were going to do anyway.”
A symptom of the Soviets’ frustration was their attempt to create some bilateral forum with us outside the UN that would give them an official status to supervise the cease-fire. To calm Soviet concerns without getting them involved in day-to-day diplomacy, I proposed to Dobrynin on October 31 that both countries designate a representative to develop the “auspices” for the peace negotiations foreseen by Security Council Resolution 338. The very next day Gromyko pretended that the representatives were supposed to supervise the cease-fire. So committed was Sadat by then to an American role that I could evade the proposal by shifting it to the Acting Egyptian Foreign Minister, Ismail Fahmy, who was then visiting Washington. He was no more eager for a Soviet supervisory role than we, and he stalled it. It soon died.
Clearly, if we played our hand boldly, we might gradually reduce Soviet and radical influence in the Arab world or else force the Soviets into a more moderate course. On November 3, we answered Brezhnev’s letter of five days earlier by affirming once again our commitment to peaceful coexistence. Nixon’s letter insisted on the principle of restraint and the forswearing of unilateral advantage. But it also reviewed in a matter-of-fact way the status of current US–Soviet negotiations from the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks to the prospects of economic relations. Our purpose was to show that there was a positive alternative to confrontation, and to put into perspective both the crisis just surmounted and the tensions that surely lay ahead.
In a society used to relatively simple answers and in a body politic racked by Watergate, however, the public ambiguities of our policy increasingly tempted domestic opposition. Conservatives resented the very fact of a Soviet-American dialogue. Liberals suspected its pragmatism. Both shared the classically American nostalgia for policy based on concepts more “elevated” than the national interest. I was preparing a journey to the Middle East that would test not only our diplomacy but also our ability to manage the conflicting pressures at home. Could America, emerging in the decisive role in the struggle for peace in the Middle East, unfreeze and reshape the lethal alignments of a quarter century?
* * *
I. The text agreed between us became UN Security Council Resolution 338. It is printed in the backnotes.1
II. The aircraft radio operator routinely reserved a wide range of frequencies across the radio spectrum as insurance if atmospheric interference rendered some frequencies unusable. This time, frequencies all across the radio band were disrupted by interference — an extraordinary occurrence. Transmissions from both the aircraft and the US Embassy were garbled. The problem was unusual enough to prompt investigations. The majority of the experts concluded that atmospheric interference and other technical difficulties were responsible; the aircraft radio operator remained convinced that such prolonged and extensive interference could only have been man-made.
III. Dobrynin told me later that I had misunderstood the word “adhere” in the first sentence of the second paragraph quoted above; what he had dictated was “act here.” Aside from the fact that this would not change the meaning of the letter, we never received an official correction, though in one of Nixon’s messages to Brezhnev we quoted our version to make our point.
IV. Actually, it was 12:52 A.M. when the resolution passed, but the United Nations rounded it off officially to 12:50 A.M.
V. The text of Resolution 339 is in the backnotes.3
VI. The National Security Act of 1947, which established the NSC, authorized the President, if he so desired, to designate another Council member to preside in his place. The NSC’s statutory membership included not only the Secretaries of State and Defense (with the CIA Director and Chairman of the JCS as statutory advisers), but also the heads of organizations such as the National Security Resources Board (since defunct) and others such as the Service Departments, long since reduced in effectiveness. The act did not mention departments such as Treasury, whose participation was often essential to a realistic discussion of world affairs. The practice therefore developed since the Fifties, as envisaged by the act, that others could be invited at the pleasure of the President. Johnson often had Justice Abe Fortas sit in; Nixon frequently included Attorney General John Mitchell. By the same token, the President was not deprived of his right to call a meeting of key advisers without designating it in any particular fashion — NSC or otherwise. In short, the composition and agenda of an NSC meeting — or whether it was an NSC meeting at all — has over the practice of a generation been left to Presidential discretion and is an issue of no practical or legal consequence.
VII. Congressional committees in executive session were briefed on the alert and its surrounding circumstances; Secretary Schlesinger and I in our separate news conferences spelled out the essence of what had happened. But not every detail was made public, for the reasons explained above. The committees concurred in this decision.6
VIII. The Israeli general election, originally scheduled for October 30, was rescheduled during the war to December 31.
IX. I have since had an opportunity to check my impressions with General Siilasvuo. He confirms that it was a genuine mix-up, even though at the time I suspected an Israeli maneuver.
XIII
First Middle East Breakthrough
Fahmy and Golda
AT the end of October 1973, the war was over, but there was a good deal of high explosive lying around. The Egyptian Third Army was cut off in the Sinai. The Arab oil producers had imposed an embargo and production cuts. The Soviet Union was brooding over its frustrations and loss of influence. We had managed to achieve a cease-fire and were beginning to move into a pivotal position as the arbiter of the peace process. Therefore, what had been conceived of as a visit to Egypt — my first to an Arab country — turned into a journey through several nations of the Middle East.
My trip would not be a celebration, however, but only an opportunity, and perhaps a trap. Its best outcome would be to extend the maneuvering room for our strategy; if it failed, disaster was probable. In the face of a demonstration of American impotence, Saudi Arabia and Jordan would no longer dare to support the moderate course; Syria would stiffen its intransigence; Egypt could wind up again in the Soviet camp. The Soviets would more than recover the ground they had lost. Moscow had shown in the crisis just surmounted that it was prepared to back its words with threats if not always its threats with actions.
The general nervousness was such that Cairo was not content to await my arrival there. We did not fully grasp it yet, but Sadat had almost as big a stake in a demonstration of America’s crucial role as we did. On October 28 I was suddenly informed that Acting Foreign Minister Ismail Fahmy was being dispatched to Washington by President Sadat, without advance notice to us. Furthermore, as I would not be stopping in Israel on this trip (having been there earlier in October), Prime Minister Golda Meir was arriving in Washington for pre-trip discussions beginning October 31.
The immediate trap I faced, as Fahmy and Golda headed for Washington, was that we might consume our strategic opportunity in acrimony over the fragile cease-fire. And there were real problems. If the Third Army remained cut off, constant alarums were inevitable. Would Israel permit more than one supply convoy to reach the trapped Egyptian army, or seek to starve it out? And how could supply to it be assured without dange
rously turning the tables? If the Egyptians received unlimited supplies, the Israeli forces that had crossed to the west bank of the Suez Canal might themselves face encirclement (see the map on page 566). There was also Israel’s demand for release of its prisoners of war. In order to speed the cease-fire, Brezhnev had promised me his full support in bringing about a rapid exchange of POWs. I quickly found that neither Egypt nor Syria was aware of this pledge — which Israel reasonably insisted should be honored. Israel was also demanding free passage through the Strait of Bab el-Mandeb, the southern entrance to the Red Sea, which was under an undeclared Egyptian naval blockade (see the map on page 198).
If the debris of conflict provided one peril, the temptation to aim immediately for a permanent, comprehensive settlement was another. Indeed, I have been criticized for not seizing this “opportunity” for such a solution.1 But it was a mirage. We knew that Israel adamantly rejected a return to the 1967 borders, including relinquishment of the Old City of Jerusalem. No Arab state, even the most moderate, would ask for less in the context of a comprehensive peace. Israel, recovering from the stunning shock of the Arab attack, was as if paralyzed. It faced an election; it sought to regain its bearings; pressures for a comprehensive negotiation were more likely to lead to desperate measures, such as ending the cease-fire, or to psychological collapse, than to a settlement. As for the Arabs, in a comprehensive approach all concerned parties would have to agree, and radical elements in the Arab world would have a veto. Egypt would lose control over its own décisions. And the Soviet Union would inject itself as the lawyer of the Arab side, putting forth a maximum program that years of experience had taught us was unfulfillable. Our allies, both Europe and Japan, would support the Arab position, leaving us completely isolated.
It was the contemplation of these alternative risks — of bogging down in niggling detail and of consuming our energies in the pursuit of comprehensive goals more yearned for than attainable — that induced us to decide instead on a “step-by-step” approach. A more ambitious effort, if it failed, would make us the target for everybody’s frustrations — the Israelis would blame us for our exactions, the Arabs for our reticence, the allies for their impotence; the Soviets would exploit the resulting turbulence for their hegemonic aims. The statesman must weigh the rewards of success against the penalties of failure. And he is permitted only one guess. Unlike the observer, he is not given the privilege, if his judgment turns out to be wrong, of revising it in another treatise. The statesman’s errors are likely to be irrevocable. We needed to set objectives within the psychological capacities of the parties, goals that could not be vetoed by the intransigent or the fanatic. Each step had to show that we could achieve results. Thereby each advance would build confidence and make further steps easier. At a WSAG meeting of November 2, I said:
We can reduce Soviet influence in the area and can get the oil embargo raised if we can deliver a moderate program, and we are going to do it. If not, the Arabs will be driven back to the Soviets, the oil will be lost, we will have the whole world against us, and there will not be one UN vote for us. We must prove to the Arabs that they are better off dealing with us on a moderate program than dealing with the Russians on a radical program.
But as yet, all was theory. I had never visited an Arab country nor dealt extensively with Arab leaders. Except from their infrequent visits to Washington, I had no way of knowing whether what seemed logical to me appeared in the same light to them. Nor was it yet clear whether I could establish a relationship of confidence with them. When I had been named Secretary of State, there had been some unease in the Arab world about my Jewish background — but also appreciation of my reputation for negotiating the Vietnam cease-fire and of the possibility that I could have a moderating influence over Israel.
I was fortunate that my first interlocutor from the Arab world was Ismail Fahmy, soon to be full (no longer Acting) Foreign Minister of Egypt. (He was confirmed in his post on October 31.) He came bounding into my State Department office on Monday, October 29, straight from the airplane without an appointment, taking the fortress by storm. “The President has sent me to make your acquaintance,” he said matter-of-factly, “to report to him about you and to prepare your visit.” In other words, Sadat was having me looked over; Fahmy was going to give me a grade.
Sadat could not have made a happier choice. Fahmy was at once transparent and subtle, convivial and abrasive, suave and prickly. He had lived for many years in the United States while serving at the United Nations; one of his children had been reared here. He had suffered for his alleged pro-American bias during Nasser’s time. It was a misunderstanding on Nasser’s part. Genuinely dedicated to better relations with the West, Fahmy was also a fervent Egyptian nationalist. Like Sadat, he did not move toward us from sentimentality but from a cool analysis of Egypt’s interests. Nasser’s policies had brought disaster; the flirtation with the Soviet Union had failed to recover Egyptian territory. What could not be exacted from us by pressure might perhaps be attained through trust and a spirit of cooperation. Fahmy was adaptable in tactics but he was clear about his objectives and implacable about his principles.
Fahmy had come both to charm and to bully me. His romantic nature saw fit to endow me with diplomatic skills exceeding even my own not excessively low estimate. It seems to be in the Arab nature to believe that some epic event or personality will miraculously transcend the humdrum mess that is the usual human condition; a miracle worker is a mechanism for avoiding hard choices. A related tactic of Fahmy’s was to ascribe to me some outrageous design of astonishing complexity — which also put me on notice that a man capable of seeing through imaginary maneuvers of such stupendous subtlety would not be diverted by the cruder designs I might in fact produce. Yet Fahmy was also a skilled diplomat, particularly good at translating Sadat’s instructions, which were more often visionary than detailed, into practical negotiating proposals. Roly-poly in appearance, Fahmy had no difficulty appearing jolly; he was a genuinely nice man. But the watchful eyes spoke of a penetrating intelligence. In the final analysis, while he used the conciliatory manners of the upper-class Egyptian to avoid unnecessary confrontation, he left no doubt that confrontation was inevitable if differences could not be reconciled.
Fahmy was my first extended contact with that extraordinary collection of Arab foreign ministers who spoke of themselves as “brothers” but seemed never to find anything else good to say about each other. Morbidly suspicious of one another’s designs, they exchanged information with breathtaking rapidity, obscuring their real aims with a reticence masquerading as volubility. They were fun to be with even if slightly nerve-racking. Fahmy’s “brothers” used to grumble that he belonged at a NATO ministerial meeting, not at the Arab League; he considered them ignorant amateurs more interested in heroic failure than in practical achievement. They both had a point. Fahmy did have more sympathy for the West and much more understanding of it than most of his colleagues. He also knew what seemed to elude some of the confreres: how to get from exalted declaration to practical achievement. Yet one forgot Fahmy’s Arab vocation at one’s peril. His nationalism included broader Arab goals. We became good, if wary, friends.
Fahmy’s assignment in Washington was largely psychological. He offered an Arab program for peace but did not expect immediate success since he knew this would involve protracted negotiations with Israel, and Sadat could afford neither delay nor failure. Fahmy therefore stressed that his purpose was broader, to remove the tensions that had characterized Egyptian-American relations for nearly twenty years.
He engaged in no recriminations about the breakdown of the ceasefire, though it would have been natural to blame us for not being able to implement what we had negotiated. Indeed, he gave us credit for having brought about the cease-fire as well as for starting the process of negotiation between Israel and Egypt at Kilometer 101. Egyptians have not been manipulating foreigners for thousands of years without having learned that one of the best ways to induce so
meone to engage himself on your behalf is to give him a reputation to uphold. And the safest form of flattery is to praise him for what has already been accomplished.
Fahmy would not be deflected by our domestic upheaval; it pleased his fancy to pretend that Sadat’s problems at home were much greater: “You have a small thing like Watergate here; in our country the whole situation is a crisis.” I hoped, for all our sakes, that he did not know what he was talking about. If Egypt’s crisis was worse than ours, a policy based on bringing about an Egyptian reversal of alliances could not succeed. Despite his difficulties, Fahmy continued, Sadat was eager for a basic change not simply toward the United States but toward Israel as well: “We have no interest in putting Israel into the sea or invading Israel, irrespective of the Palestinian situation.” In other words, not only did Egypt accept Israel’s existence — this was becoming the staple of Middle East rhetoric for ever more countries — but Fahmy left no doubt that it would not let the Palestinians stand in the way of a solution, a marked change from the stand Hafiz Ismail had taken with me earlier in the year.
Fahmy knew that the real issue in the Middle East, too, was psychological: “Confidence is the key. . . . Israel and Egypt must establish confidence, otherwise we can’t go ahead.” The minutiae of the negotiations over supply to the Third Army must not, in short, obscure the real and revolutionary goal, which was to alter the terms of reference of the Israeli-Arab dialogue.
Fahmy did have a number of ideas, however, on how to solve the problems of supply for the Third Army, release of prisoners, and the blockade of Bab el-Mandeb. None of them seemed particularly workable, based as they were on the proposition that Israel had either to pull back to the cease-fire line of October 22 (the line it held before it surrounded the Third Army) or at least to vacate a corridor ten kilometers wide on each side of the Cairo-Suez road — which would realize Israel’s fear of seeing its army on the west bank of the Suez Canal caught between two hostile forces. To ease this concern, Fahmy offered the assurance that no military supplies would pass on this road — the germ of an idea, provided we could find an adequate inspection system.
Years of Upheaval Page 91