In my suite on the sixth floor of the King David Hotel, the three of us reviewed where we stood. Dinitz and Eban, violating the fundamental Israeli principle of treating every concession as if it were only Israel’s due, confessed their astonishment that so much progress had been made in so limited a time. Products of a freewheeling democracy, they had as yet no framework for grasping the sweeping gestures possible in a more authoritarian system, which were characteristic of Sadat and which were to startle them again and again. When I mentioned the figure of thirty tanks across the Canal, Dinitz asked revealingly: “You mean he did not start by asking for 300?” Sadat generally did not haggle; like Zhou Enlai, with whom he otherwise had little in common, he started with his real position and rarely moved from it. I did not stress this aspect of Sadat’s tactics in Jerusalem lest my interlocutors — to whom Sadat was still like a being from another planet — accuse me of insufficient vigilance in reducing Sadat’s opening position. It was left that the Israeli negotiating team would discuss my report overnight and let me have their reaction in the morning. I might be able to return to Aswan the following evening.
After nearly fifteen hours of nonstop negotiations in two countries, I sent off a report to President Nixon. I also sent another briefing message to Dobrynin via Scowcroft. I told Dobrynin that progress was being made, though once again I left it open toward what. That point was not specified as well in briefing messages to the foreign ministers of Britain, France, and the Federal Republic of Germany. I did not want to court a repetition of earlier European initiatives that might cut across the agreement now so tantalizingly near.
I awakened Tuesday morning to a message from Scowcroft, who urged, on the basis of the report I had sent Nixon the previous night, that I not conclude an agreement without demonstrating Presidential involvement. This required — in Scowcroft’s view and in Haig’s — that I return to Washington, receive some publicized Presidential instruction, and then complete the negotiation. But that was out of the question. If I left the area for three days — the minimum necessary — the fragile compromises emerging might well break apart. The new Israeli Parliament would assemble in five days’ time and probably extract from the government a statement of the limitations on deployments the premature publication of which Sadat had said would prevent him from signing. Sadat would either have to postpone his trip through the Arab world, which would be construed as a confession of failure, or he would have to hedge against stalemate by a rhetoric that preserved his options. In Israel, the whole negotiation would become submerged in the laborious process of forming a new cabinet, which would start then. Publicly, my departure from the area might be interpreted as evidence of a deadlock. In short, leaving the area risked too much.
I delayed a reply until I had heard the response of the Israeli government. That Tuesday morning Dinitz came by for breakfast with good news: The Israeli attitude was basically favorable. I should keep this in mind because the Israeli negotiating team would undoubtedly give me their characteristic going-over. It was a helpful warning, for when I met our Israeli counterparts in the conference room of the Prime Minister’s office an hour later, one would not have known that anything unusual had happened at Aswan. As Dinitz had predicted, our Israeli opposite numbers submitted us to a merciless cross-examination on every technical aspect of the problem.III The few kilometers for which Sadat asked in the south suddenly became magnified into a device by which Egypt would be able to outflank the Israeli forces in the Mitla Pass (about sixty kilometers northeast) by means of a road nine-tenths of which would remain under Israeli control. But it was plain — or maybe Dinitz had put me at ease — that the tension and near-hysteria of previous meetings were missing. Indeed, the Israeli negotiators were asking questions not to harass me but to receive answers for skeptical cabinet colleagues and a hostile opposition in Parliament. They were looking for pretexts to approve the agreement, not to scuttle it.
At 11:30 A.M. the Israeli negotiators began private deliberations and met with Golda; I went to the Israel Museum on a nearby hill. At 2:00 P.M. we reassembled for lunch in the Foreign Minister’s residence. Israeli negotiators consider any time spent on social amenities a violation of their trust. So it was not surprising that Allon opened the meeting by announcing: “Gentlemen, since the soup is very hot we can start business.” The reason for the impatience was the eagerness to announce that the Israeli team had approved a breakthrough:
ALLON: By and large we must say you achieved great progress in your visits in Jerusalem and Aswan. We will give you some changes which we think you will consider logical. And we see no reason why there cannot be a signing at Kilometer 101 Friday. What we accept is, we accept the geographic concept. [Laughter]
KISSINGER: It is a great victory, to get Israel to accept its own proposal. [Laughter]
ALLON: But on the southern zone, our Chief of Staff is considering, and we will try to be forthcoming.
KISSINGER: Good.
DINITZ: But not southcoming. [Laughter]
DAYAN: Suppose we do move on the main line southward — which I think we will do — but the area evacuated by us should be kept by the UN, not by them, and they will maintain all the area they have.
DINITZ: They will also move.
KISSINGER: No.
DAYAN: They will stay where they are — which is the change in our map. If we didn’t move back there would be no room for the UN.
KISSINGER: Given their mentality, first of all, this will help. Psychologically, if there is one kilometer you can give them, it will help.
ALLON: Our General Elazar went to headquarters and he is studying it.
KISSINGER: Good.
ALLON: On the number of battalions, we had an argument among ourselves, because when we said two-three battalions, we meant it. If you can settle it on five or six, you will be awarded the Ben-Gurion prize.
KISSINGER: Six is impossible.
ALLON: If they stick to ten and we stick to six, maybe eight.
KISSINGER: Maybe. Well, maybe nine.
ALLON: No.
DINITZ: Yigal was not supposed to say that [eight battalions].
KISSINGER: We can’t do it, because if it takes too long, his advisers will turn against it.
With this, everything fell into place. We agreed to seek a limit of eight battalions and 7,000 men. My interlocutors urged me to try a lower figure with Sadat first; but I thought I knew my man; it would backfire if we started haggling. Dayan pushed through agreement to permit Cairo thirty tanks east of the Canal conditional on Egypt’s finally accepting a limit of thirty kilometers from the forward line for the surface-to-air missiles (which meant that Israel was conceding ten kilometers of its original proposal). For the rest, the Israelis accepted Sadat’s concept of fewer zones and the overall framework of a basic agreement with a separate “United States proposal” on force limits and side letters on other issues. Israel gave up its demand for an end to belligerency; it would settle for the proscription of “hostile” acts. (That was watered down further as the negotiations progressed.)
There was some attempt to link completion of the agreement to the release of Israeli prisoners held in Syria. I stressed that this would be playing Asad’s game; since he did not really want a separate Egyptian disengagement agreement, he would be given an incentive not to release the prisoners. He would then raise the ante, able to blackmail both Egypt and Israel. And Sadat, having been linked to Syria by Israeli (and American) actions, would have no choice except to give all-out support to a program likely to become increasingly radical under Syrian influence. The best way to obtain the release of Israeli prisoners in Syria was to complete the current negotiations rapidly. Syria’s eagerness to follow suit could then be used as a lever for the prisoners. The proposal was withdrawn.
At 4:00 P.M. I called on Golda at her residence and went over the text of the agreement and its implications. I had already done this twice that day with her colleagues. But she was worried and she was ill; it was, after all, t
he first Israeli withdrawal since 1956.
Once that meeting was over, the drudgery began. At 5:30 P.M. the Israeli cabinet met to consider its negotiating team’s new positions. Back at the King David Hotel, my team and I had to redraft the agreement and the “United States proposal” in the light of the day’s discussions. There was the ubiquitous Memorandum of Understanding by which we confirmed to Israel our definition of specific provisions. By now we were confident enough of success to begin drafting the assurances that Nixon would transmit to each side on behalf of the other. Though the assurances were technically unilateral statements, they had to be checked in both capitals to make sure they would satisfy what was needed. At 11:00 P.M. Dayan, Elazar, Dinitz, and later Evron came by to review the military provisions, and to report the cabinet’s basically positive stance, although final approval would await my next visit to Israel. At 2:45 A.M., Wednesday, January 16, we ended a nineteen-hour negotiating marathon.
There remained only to send a message to Washington that for me to return now might unravel the whole delicate fabric. The parties would surely interpret it as some ominous snag on the American side. If the true reason were given, and then leaked (by either of them, to protect their position), my return home would defeat its purpose. Unless receiving explicit orders to the contrary I would stay — giving me a chance to go one more round of shuttle before interrupting the talks. If the agreement were to be completed, Nixon could, of course, announce it from the White House. Nothing was heard again from Washington about my returning home early.
At 7:30 A.M., Wednesday, my colleagues and I reviewed the documents for the umpteenth time. At 8:30 we went over them with the Israeli negotiating team. At 10:30 we left Jerusalem for Ben-Gurion Airport, again by car as the heavy rainstorm continued. Luckily for me, Eban was a stimulating companion; otherwise the long drives to the airport would have been hard to endure. At 11:40 A.M., just before takeoff, Dayan brought to my plane the revised map of the southern front, outlining an additional Israeli withdrawal that I would offer Sadat. On the aircraft I proudly showed Eban and Dayan my traveling office. We chatted with the journalists in the back of the plane. I joked that Eban’s definition of objectivity was 100 percent agreement with the Israeli point of view. By that standard I had failed miserably; I had been supportive only 95 percent of the time. Eban spoke wistfully of staying on the plane for the flight to Aswan; after all, he and his wife had spent part of their honeymoon at the old Cataract Hotel in 1945. Now Egypt seemed impossibly far away. And as Eban left the plane I thought of a conversation with his beautiful and charming wife, Suzy, who at some dinner or other had told me that she had lived in more countries than she could remember. “And which people did you like best?” I had asked her. It was at the height of some crisis with Egypt under Nasser. “The Egyptian,” she had said, to my amazement, for then Egypt was considered Israel’s principal enemy. She had been born and had grown up in Ismailia.
That is what the exertions of the last days and weeks were ultimately about: to see whether out of two decades of war a human bond could reemerge at last. I expressed the thought in my departure statement:
We all hope, of course, that the process in which we are engaged will lead to an agreement that could mark a turning point in affairs in the Middle East. But as the party that has been travelling back and forth between Egypt and Israel, I may be perhaps permitted to make a personal observation. It is that to me one of the most hopeful signs is the spirit of fairness and justice that has characterized both sides and the constructive and positive manner in which both sides have sought to come to an understanding on the very important issue of the separation of forces. And if this spirit can be maintained then there may be hope that this area which has suffered so much may at last find peace.
So in the chilly rain we left for what would have to be the last negotiating session in Egypt if the signing was to take place on Friday, January 18. For it was already noon on Wednesday. I would have to conclude matters on this round or come so close to it that the remainder could be done by telegram.
At 2:15 P.M. we landed in Aswan. The sand reflected the brilliant sunshine; from Sadat’s gazebo, which we reached fifteen minutes later, the dunes lay beneath the translucent sky on the Nile as if painted. Sadat and I repaired immediately to the study. Fahmy and Sisco waited outside in the garden and joined us from time to time to consult on points of drafting. I went through the documents as they stood.
I began by offering six Egyptian battalions and 4,500 men across the Canal, as Dayan had asked me to do, but I did not invest much capital in a marginal point since I knew that the Israeli negotiators were willing to accept eight battalions and 7,000 men. I put my main emphasis on the real Israeli concern, which was the distance that Egypt would have to pull back its surface-to-air missiles from the forward line — the point on which Gamasy was likely to prove most recalcitrant. Gamasy had wanted only a twenty-five-kilometer limit; Israel would go no lower than thirty (down from forty). I told Sadat that in my view this was Israel’s real — not merely a bargaining — position. Sadat finally confided that he would eventually accept the figure; but as Gamasy was as overwrought as he had ever seen him, I should make one more try at the shorter distance; if Israel refused I should cable him; it would not hold up the agreement. The utility of a mediator is that if trusted by both sides he can soften the edges of controversy and provide a mechanism for adjustment on issues of prestige.
Reviewing the various assurances was more time-consuming than difficult. Sadat was reluctant to give assurances on what he considered Egypt’s internal affairs, such as rebuilding the Canal area, but he accepted a proposal I had drafted, picking up on his suggestion of forty-eight hours earlier and taking it a step further: Nixon would send a letter to Sadat saying he “understood” that it was Egypt’s intention to clear the Canal and that he looked forward to “the resumption of normal economic activities” in the area. For its part, the United States would “do its utmost to discourage” Israel from attacking population centers. Sadat asked that this passage be changed to “gives you its assurance” that Israel would refrain from doing so. I agreed to remove the implied threat.
The other assurances also passed muster, though not without some quibbles from Fahmy. Sadat agreed that the United States would fly reconnaissance missions over the UN zones randomly, instead of every two weeks as he had first proposed; there would be no predictable timetable, making evasion more difficult. He promised not to interfere with Israeli civilian flights down the Red Sea — a matter of concern to Jerusalem, since that was its only civil air route to Africa. With respect to clearing the Suez Canal, Sadat indicated that he would consider our strategic preferences in determining whether it should be done quickly or not.IV
The meeting broke up at 4:45 P.M. At 6:00 Gamasy, Fahmy, and three aides for the Egyptian side met with Bunker, Sisco, Maw, Rodman, and me in the dining room of the New Cataract Hotel. Once again we reviewed all texts, seeking to put them into final form. The process went down hard with Gamasy. At one point he walked out, complaining that this was becoming a political, not a military, agreement; he soon thought better of it and returned. But he continued to fight bitterly for only a twenty-five-kilometer limit for the surface-to-air missiles because he would have to explain to the army why its missile defense had to be withdrawn after a successful war. As Gamasy lamented to my team, he could explain it to the Egyptian civilian population, “but not to our armed forces.” He pointed out that Egypt had five reinforced divisions across the Canal at that moment, but “tomorrow [there will be] only seven thousand soldiers.” Worse, Egypt’s air defense on the west bank would have to be moved: “Psychologically, it is bad for our armed forces.”
But Gamasy was a gentleman as well as a patriot. I offered to give a written assurance that Israel would open the supply routes to the Third Army unconditionally within forty-eight hours of concluding the agreement. Gamasy replied: “I don’t need a letter. You give your word.” He insisted on the ri
ght to deploy several batteries of howitzers and mortars on the east bank. I knew Israel would accept this, but I held the concession back on this round to trade it for the surface-to-air missile limitations, with respect to which I knew Israel would be adamant.
At 8:00 P.M. Fahmy accompanied me to see Sadat. The President took me into the study alone. He was philosophical, having learned of Gamasy’s outburst. “My army!” he mused. “First I had trouble convincing them to go to war. Now I have trouble persuading them to make peace.” He was determined to go ahead; the difference between the various deployment schemes was now down to a quibble. I should do the best I could based on my knowledge of the two sides’ sensitivities. He had thought about my frequent references to Israel’s insecurity, he said. As a sign of his goodwill I could inform Golda Meir that he would not exercise his right to keep thirty tanks across the Canal. The principle that Egypt had the right to maintain its major weapons on its own soil was fundamental; now that it had been established, he would not use it. Then, dramatically, he asked me to take a personal message to Golda. He dictated it on the spot; it was the first direct message in twenty-six years from an Egyptian head of government to his counterpart in Israel. It stated:
You must take my word seriously. When I made my initiative in 1971, I meant it. When I threatened war, I meant it. When I talk of peace now, I mean it.
We never have had contact before. We now have the services of Dr. Kissinger. Let us use him and talk to each other through him.
And with this we parted. I would not see him again until the negotiations had succeeded or at the last second had failed. For we were now on the home stretch. Egypt had to agree to withdraw its surface-to-air missiles an additional five kilometers; Israel needed to accept a few Egyptian howitzers and antitank guns on the east bank of the Canal. Nothing else stood in the way of an agreement.
Years of Upheaval Page 123