And she could have selected no better emissary. Dinitz and I had gone through a lot together. He had won my trust and we had become good friends. He would defend Israel’s position tenaciously, but he would also find the human dimensions and he would not deceive me.
Now Dinitz told me that the real Israeli concerns had never been put forward. Israel clung to the prewar line not out of a sense of strength but out of insecurity. Israel did not have the manpower to man a continuous fortified line as the Syrians did on their side. The Israeli defense line depended on a series of fortified strongpoints and was thus unusually dependent on topography. Indeed, the demarcation line on the Golan had been established where it was in 1967 precisely because it was the most easily defensible position — in some spots the sole defensible one. This is why the cabinet had been so obdurate about moving the line south of Quneitra; there simply was no other comparable position in that area. Therefore, too, the hills behind Quneitra were essential both for psychological and for military reasons. It was not a question of haggling over a few meters; it was that Israel could not give up its entire defensive position for a separation-of-forces agreement.
I replied that we would have saved ourselves a lot of tension had somebody explained matters that clearly earlier. Dinitz said that the reason the argument had not been put forward previously was because, it implied that Israel would make no further withdrawal on the Golan and the cabinet was worried about how I would react. Moreover, Israeli cabinet politics did not permit a conceptual approach. The cabinet could make only a series of individual decisions, each of which had to be presented with no latitude for maneuver. And the process of reaching a decision was so difficult that it left no emotional resources for understanding, much less adjusting to, the psychological needs of others. Only in its hour of anguish did Israel open its heart to the sensitivities of the other parties and thus the agony of Ma’alot was the chrysalis of the eventual breakthrough.
I told Dinitz that if and when the negotiations resumed, Israel had to show more understanding of Syrian pride. It had to widen the Syrian territory around Quneitra; it must, within the limits of its security, attempt an act of grace. I in turn would try to head off Asad’s demand that Israel move off the western hills. For now, I certainly recognized Israel’s need to concentrate on Ma’alot.
I did not want it to appear that an act of terrorism caused the end of my mission lest this become a precedent tempting further such acts. As soon as Dinitz had left, I sent messages to Asad, Sadat, Hussein, Saqqaf, and Boumedienne urging their intercession on behalf of the hostage children. The cable to Asad pointed out:
Anything that the President can do to dissociate Syria in the public mind from this incident would help the cause of the Arabs and of Syrian-American relations in the United States more than anything else [I] can think of.
I also issued a public statement in which the United States invited all responsible governments to condemn the outrage and appealed to those holding the hostages to release them: “[Violence such as this will serve no cause but to undermine the prospects for peace.”
During the morning of May 15, the Israeli cabinet in emergency session took the unprecedented step of agreeing to negotiate over the terrorist demands. Golda explained: “Everyone in the country knows the problems involved in releasing terrorists, but the Cabinet decided that we do not wage war on the backs of children.”
Of the Arab leaders only Sadat replied to my message. He regretted the incident; he urged Israel to persevere on the course of disengagement; he was willing to discuss how such incidents could be prevented in the future. As for Syria, Asad’s aides complained to Tom Scotes that Lebanese and Syrian civilians had been killed by Israeli raids around Mount Hermon without American protests. But later in the day, one of Asad’s aides told Scotes that the incident should not be allowed to interfere with the negotiations; as far as Syria was concerned, it knew nothing about the operation and did not consider itself responsible. In a strange sense, the hostage children reminded everyone of fundamentals. After nearly three weeks of frustrating haggling, neither side, in the face of the threat of bloodshed, was prepared to abandon a negotiation all had been on the verge of recessing twenty-four hours earlier.
As for Washington, a cable suggested that the Watergate strain of recent weeks had taken its toll. Nixon’s press secretary, Ron Ziegler, complained to Brent Scowcroft that my public statement about Ma’alot had not mentioned the President (who had in any case already publicly expressed his concern and outrage). Scowcroft reported to me: “I got him [Ziegler] calmed down.” But even the usually imperturbable Scowcroft was beginning to be alarmed and annoyed by what he called “these outbursts on trivia.”
That was only a pinprick. More worrying was an intervention by the President himself. He had been following my daily reports closely. On a number of occasions I had asked him to intercede with the Israeli cabinet in urging a modification of the Israeli position. That undoubtedly reinforced his already strong propensity to hold Israel responsible for the deadlock. Now the prospect of a diplomatic failure inflamed his fears that his strongest suit in the Watergate crisis, his ability to conduct an effective foreign policy, was evaporating. It was too much. In the middle of the night — before he had learned of Ma’alot — he phoned Scowcroft twice to order him to cut off all aid to Israel unless it changed its position by the next morning. He did not specify what precisely he wanted.
Ma’alot made such a directive particularly inappropriate. In a cable to Scowcroft I opposed it on many grounds. Such a course would transform our strategy and unleash unpredictable forces in the Middle East. We had achieved our pivotal position because it was perceived that we alone could move Israel — but also that this was a Herculean task. If it once appeared that we were prepared to break the back of our ally, every later deadlock would be ascribed to lack of American determination. Israel might lash out in desperation. The Soviet Union would see a clear field for aggressive meddling. This was not the time for a public dissociation from Israel.
Before Nixon could reply, the Israelis ended the Ma’alot crisis by force. The negotiations had dragged on — or maybe they had been intended to lull the terrorists all along. At the end of the day, Israeli commandos stormed the schoolhouse and killed the three terrorists. But sixteen schoolchildren died and sixty-eight were wounded — all by Palestinian hand grenades.2
Israel was stunned by the losses but astonishingly disciplined. Nancy and I called on Golda; now that the demonstrators had disappeared, it was possible for us to enter her residence. I have always considered words of consolation in the face of tragedy an insult to the bereaved. Probably the best that one human being can do for another in such circumstances is to convey that one understands the anguish, and that should not require many phrases. Golda said that ultimately she had to assume responsibility; that was the meaning of being a national leader. Being victim seemed to be the destiny of Jews, but the killing of children was too much. It was said without pathos, analytically, as a scientist deals with a fact. In the same almost resigned manner, Golda said that we all had better get back to making peace; she would call a cabinet meeting tonight to see whether any modification of the proposal was possible. We could meet with the negotiating team the next morning; perhaps the time had come when I should put an American proposal to them.
The “United States Proposal”
WHATEVER the spiritual impact of Ma’alot on Golda, it surely had not increased the cabinet’s willingness to run risks. We met at 9:45 A.M. on Thursday, May 16. The last days had taken their toll; Golda had fallen ill; Deputy Prime Minister Yigal Allon was in the chair. I said that I was prepared to make one more effort. But we should have no illusions. A recess would last a month to six weeks and during it each side would state its positions publicly, dig in, and seek to mobilize support. Concessions that might have broken the deadlock as part of a continuing negotiation would almost surely be inadequate to revive it. There was a high probability that an Arab sum
mit meeting would formulate demands that would bind Asad as well as Sadat; the Soviet Union would become more active; the United States would lose control over events.
The Israeli negotiating team questioned none of these propositions. They simply had neither the conviction nor the domestic structure to generate a new proposal. If they could be sure that the next set of proposals was indeed the final one, Allon said, they might muster the energy to do it. But they could not keep putting forward modifications — however marginal they seemed to me — that would then be rebuffed in Damascus. I thought (but did not say) how much better it would have been and how much further we would have advanced if all concessions had been lumped into one offer at the beginning — as the Chinese had taught me. It would have saved everyone much anguish and, where so much depended on intangibles, might have gained more moral terrain. It was now too late for that.
From Allon’s wistful remarks refusing to make changes but inviting a final offer, I concluded that the time had come for me to pick up Golda’s idea and make an “American proposal” to both sides. I had done this in the Egyptian negotiation in January — but then it had been largely a face-saving label on terms that both sides were ready to agree on in any event. This time the two sides were still far apart, psychologically if not substantively. It would be up to me to estimate what represented a fair compromise. I ran the risk that if the two sides could not bring themselves to make the leap, both would reject the compromise. But I also saw the benefits. I said to the negotiating team:
If we make it a U.S. proposal to the Israelis, I think this would have a tactical advantage, (a) because it would in his [Asad’s] mind look as if we would have made you do it. It is not a polite way to say it. It would be an injection of the United States into it. And it would then be my judgment that this is the limit and not your assertion that that is the limit. So it isn’t that he is yielding to an Israeli demand but to my judgment of what the limit is. [Emphasis added.]
And a little later:
You have told me as much as you can tell me. . . . The image I have of your Cabinet is to fight for every hundred yards, to prove that a tremendous fight was put up, and maybe gradually — having proved that they contested every inch — to wind up at a line like what I described, or maybe not. But, at any rate, not easily. And they want to see the effort and they want to prove to themselves that the effort was made. . . .
The best chance I have — I like the U.S. proposal idea — is to say, “Look, this is my judgment of the absolute maximum that can be attained. There is no sense for you to argue any more. There is no sense to haggle. This is what we can do with a bloody discussion in the Israeli Cabinet. More than this, no, and this I can do only if you say, yes.” But then it has to look somewhat significant. And then I can’t have stories all over the United States and Israel that I betrayed Israel in my eagerness to get an agreement because I wanted to help the President, that in my eagerness to help the President in the Watergate crisis, I raped Israel. Let’s be honest with each other. . . .
So I want you to know this. You don’t have to tell me any more, but if we are going to proceed this way, we have to proceed with some compassion for each other. I am assuming the mere fact that you are letting me make a U.S. proposal, or encouraging it, indicates that you are prepared for a reconsideration or we wouldn’t be here. Otherwise, I could break it up.
The Israeli negotiating team accepted that approach. Not that it had enough faith in me — nor should it have had — to give me a blank check. I was told that the cultivated fields at the edge of Quneitra were not negotiable. The Chief of Staff gave me a general lecture on the security criteria he would apply when the cabinet asked him to comment on my proposal. I had a pretty good idea of what the traffic would bear. But I wanted to have it confirmed — or refined — by Golda, who would have to put it through the cabinet if I got Asad to accept. So I called on her once again at her residence.
Strangely, Golda, destined to leave the government as soon as the negotiation was completed, remained the dominant figure. Yitzhak Rabin, who would take over, attended meetings but played a marginal role partly by his choice, largely because Golda, freed of any further political considerations, now towered over everyone. She had fought passionately, shrewdly, and obstinately for every square yard. But she also recognized the appropriate time to settle. She said she knew that many of her colleagues spoke for the record; she would take it upon herself to put an American proposal through the cabinet.
Based on the earlier meeting with the cabinet and Golda’s observations, I told her that the “United States proposal” would have the following three elements:
• The line around Quneitra would move about 200 meters west, with the area between this line and the western hills (about one and a half kilometers) demilitarized under UN supervision.
• The hills themselves would be under Israeli control but the armaments on them would be strictly limited. The United States would guarantee this bilaterally to Syria.
• The Israeli line of control would be moved one kilometer back to the north and south of Quneitra so as to meet Asad’s concern about returning civilian population to a city surrounded on three sides by Israeli forces. It also gave Asad something like the straight north-south line he had been asking for.
Alone, Golda saw no need for formal speeches. She understood very well that by going along with the “American proposal” she secured her moral terrain: at a minimum, the assurance that Israel would not be blamed if the talks broke up. And also American agreement that Israel had reached the limit of territorial concessions in the current round of talks and would not be asked for more.
Feelings ran deeply on the Syrian side as well. As in Israel, the danger of the collapse of the negotiations seemed to bring home their importance. Sixteen dead Israeli children had achieved what had eluded diplomats in three weeks of testy exchanges: that when all was said and done, peace was important because its alternative would be paid for by the suffering of the innocent.
Khaddam on the way in from the airport Thursday afternoon, May 16, spoke of certain powers in the area trying to move matters in the opposite direction from peace. He did not contradict me when I guessed that these were the Soviet Union, Iraq, and the Palestinians.
This was the prelude to a grueling eight-hour meeting with Asad that lasted from 6:00 P.M. to 2:00 A.M. The first part of the discussion concerned Ma’alot, about which Asad was icily aloof. He did not defend the Palestinian attack; he avoided the usual justification that the Palestinians were seeking no more than to liberate their own territory. Rather, he raised a practical question: “Why wouldn’t Israel give up twenty prisoners and save its children?” But he understood very well the question of principle involved; there was even an element of grudging admiration. He was less moderate about Lebanon.III The Israeli retaliation there might sooner or later draw in Syria, he said. Even now it created fifty new guerrillas for every Palestinian killed.
But all this was preliminary to turning to disengagement. Once again, we gazed at the gulf in which concessions that seemed to the Israelis to come out of their very flesh appeared to the Syrians as almost insolent intransigence.
Asad said:
What is it that the Israelis want? I already agreed that we won’t touch any settlements. I have already agreed that I will take into account hills. All I want is a straight line some distance from the old line for reasons of my population, and then they can build any defense line they want behind that distance as close to that distance as they want.
Of course, the Israeli leaders claimed that there was no other defense line available; that Asad’s proposal was a trick. Both sides were probably sincere. In terms of Israeli military doctrine, the Syrian demand amounted to unilateral disarmament. In terms of Syrian national consciousness, the very concept of an Israeli defense line on the Golan Heights was an affront. The Israelis could not grasp the Syrians’ primeval sense of honor; the Syrians did not understand that Israeli assertiveness wa
s an amalgam of fear and insecurity.
And for that reason, too, Asad’s next question was destined to be irrelevant:
The basic thing the Israelis ought to understand is that if we get a satisfactory settlement in disengagement, then we can have a long stamina there [sic], then we can stay there and settle and reconstruct. If we are forced to accept an unsatisfactory settlement, even if we accept it, we will be constantly pressing to go on. Why don’t they understand that?
Since Israel had little intention of making any further territorial concessions, Asad’s state of mind made no difference to its leaders. It was a pity, for I believe that in the summer of 1974 both sides caught at least a glimmer of the possibility of living in peace.
There being no further point in abstract explorations, I put forward the “United States proposal.” Asad stopped me at this point and called for his Defense Minister and Chief of Staff. Clearly he did not wish to take sole responsibility for major steps. And he wanted to be sure that his colleagues (and potential rivals) could not claim later that he had been taken in. To this end it was not enough for him to repeat what I had said; they had to be persuaded by the same arguments. It proved, at any rate, that matters were reaching a point of decision.
While waiting for the generals, I teased him: “You are trying to intimidate me.” Asad made the revealing reply that I should be intimidated by the Foreign Minister; the generals were the peace-loving element and they liked the Russians as much as I did. Indeed, in Syria it was the politicians who were ideologues and the military who understood the risks and costs of continued war with Israel.
Years of Upheaval Page 159