A Full Life: Reflections at Ninety

by Jimmy Carter

  Deregulation

  As governor I had seen how costly and unnecessary were some of the federal regulatory agencies, whose purpose over several decades had changed from protecting consumers to defending monopolies and restricting competition in the marketplace. At the same time, the regulated businesses were discouraged from introducing better products or services. This economic blight extended over railroads, electric power, oil and gas, bus lines, trucking firms, airlines, banks, insurance companies, and even television, telecommunications, and radio networks. For instance, each airline had its own exclusive and protected routes, and if large pay increases or other costs were implemented, the Civil Aeronautics Board (CAB) would routinely pass the added costs on to passengers and prohibit competition.

  I began to study these industries more closely, working with interested members of Congress, my cabinet officers, and Alfred Kahn, a remarkable economist. He came to serve on the Civil Aeronautics Board and later helped as my “inflation czar.” When we implemented his ideas about aviation, the CAB ceased to exist. In effect, we were able to deregulate all the industries I’ve named and permit competition in each commercial area, while preserving the safety of consumers and protecting them from abusive business practices, especially by the large banks.

  Neutron Bomb

  A decision on whether to deploy the neutron bomb was one of my most difficult, and it provoked public debates and hard feelings with the Congress and also with some of our NATO allies, especially Germany. Harold Brown, Jim Schlesinger, and I were quite supportive of technological improvements in weaponry, including precision bombs, cruise missiles, nuclear ship propulsion, and stealth aircraft. Another potential advance was an atomic explosion that could minimize destruction of buildings and equipment but kill as many people as possible with high radiation of deadly neutrons. The original concept was first tested in 1963, and our military had initiated a schedule of production. When the complete concept was explained to me, I decided that the weapon should not be deployed either by our own military or by those in NATO. I consulted with European leaders, and German Chancellor Schmidt became quite angry and criticized my decision publicly. I notified him that I would reconsider if he would endorse the weapon’s deployment in Germany, but he was not willing to share the responsibility, and my decision prevailed. President Reagan resumed production of this “enhanced radiation weapon,” and a few of them were deployed among U.S. forces, but the last one was dismantled by President George W. Bush.

  Cold War

  The Cold War was raging, and the Soviet Union and the United States were engaged everywhere in intense competition. There was not a country, no matter how small or remote, where we each didn’t strive to obtain more influence than the other. This was often beneficial to the local people as we offered them better trade relations, some forms of foreign aid, or improved military capabilities. My goal was to demonstrate the advantages of freedom and a commitment to human rights in contrast to the Soviet system of Communism and oppression. There were vivid examples of these unpleasant and dangerous policies in Poland, East Germany, Czechoslovakia, Romania, Hungary, Yugoslavia, and Albania—and in Afghanistan when the Soviets invaded, in December 1979. The most obvious example was the domination of people who lived within the Soviet Union.

  Perhaps the turning point in my presidential campaign had been when President Ford denied in a debate that the Soviets were dominating any countries in Eastern Europe. To demonstrate my concern about their plight, my first overseas visit, after the London Economic Summit, was to Poland. I began calling for the release of the imprisoned human rights activist Natan Sharansky, and I had highly publicized personal correspondence with Andrei Sakharov and his wife, Yelena Bonner. I presented persistent demands through Soviet Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin to his superiors to permit oppressed Jews to emigrate to Europe and America. Later, when I met directly with President Brezhnev, he knew that human rights would be on my agenda and would have a written response ready that he simply passed to the interpreter to read. Although Soviet leaders never acknowledged that they denied any rights or that this was a legitimate subject of discussion with me, our policy had some tangible effects. The number of Soviet Jews permitted to leave the country almost quadrupled to 51,320 in 1979, and there is no doubt that Soviet citizens were strengthened in their demand for additional freedoms.

  I went to Vienna in June 1979 to meet with President Brezhnev and his team to negotiate a reduction and future limits on nuclear arsenals. Protocol called for the Soviets to come to the United States for this session, but Brezhnev was ill and could not fly at high altitudes. He was accompanied by Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko; Konstantin Chernenko, second in command and future Soviet leader; and Defense Minister Dmitry Ustinov. We concluded the SALT II agreement, with a projected life of five years, when a more drastic reduction in nuclear armaments was contemplated. Although not ratified by the U.S. Senate, SALT II remained in effect beyond its expected time. The most interesting event was when Brezhnev said, at the beginning, “If we do not succeed, God will not forgive us!” As leader of an atheistic regime, he was embarrassed by the resulting silence, and Gromyko finally said, with an attempt at humor, “Yes, God above is looking down at us all.”

  I was delighted to see the Cold War end when Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev introduced reforms known as perestroika and glasnost (reorganization and openness) and withdrew Soviet troops from Afghanistan in the 1980s. The Berlin Wall was torn down, the Communist Party lost control, and the USSR was dissolved in 1991. This left Russia as a major regional player, but the United States remained as the world’s only superpower.

  Saving New York City and Chrysler

  In July 1977, Mayor Abraham Beame came to see me about the financial plight of New York City. I had met Abe during my campaign and had reaped rich dividends when the New York Daily News published a glaring headline: FORD TO CITY: DROP DEAD! after a previous plea for assistance had been denied. Abe had worked heroically to reduce projected budget deficits of $1.5 billion, and he wanted me to consider declaring the city a disaster area, realizing that a more long-term solution was needed. I brought in Treasury Secretary Michael Blumenthal, and we finally planned a federal loan to the city. Beame was one of the most dedicated public servants I ever knew, working in a completely modest way for the well-being of the people he represented. A power blackout later that month probably cost him reelection, but we went ahead with plans to help the city. Senator William Proxmire, chairman of the Committee on Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs, was adamantly opposed to the “bailout,” but we finally got it approved with adequate financial guarantees for the U.S. Treasury.

  The only other issue like this that I had to face was the prospective insolvency of Chrysler Corporation, a major defense contractor and the employer of more than 165,000 workers. Chrysler was in desperate financial condition when Lee Iacocca became CEO, and I eventually agreed to grant a guaranteed loan of $1.5 billion to prevent its bankruptcy, an immense increase in unemployment and other costs, and Chrysler’s possible takeover by one of the aggressive Japanese automobile manufacturers. I required, however, strict business practices and labor union concessions to be supervised by the treasury secretary, plus full repayment of the loan at the going interest rate. When Chrysler later recovered, the federal government reaped substantial dividends.

  Middle East Peace

  During my 1976 campaign many Americans asked questions about the Middle East, but most were merely seeking assurance of my good intentions toward Israel. I became increasingly interested in bringing permanent peace to Israel and its neighbors, and soon after being elected I discussed this privately with Zbigniew Brzezinski, whom I had chosen as national security adviser. There was little information available about how Syria, Jordan, Egypt, or even Israel would react to such a proposal, so I decided to meet with all their leaders as early as possible.

  Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin came first, on March 7, and was surprisingly negative about initia
ting peace talks. I learned after his visit that he and his wife were being accused of having an illegal bank account in America, and he was also facing strong opposition for reelection from Menachem Begin.

  Anwar Sadat came from Egypt on April 4, and I found him to be receptive. He didn’t believe he could ever recognize Israel as legitimate or permit Israeli ships to use the Suez Canal, but he promised at least to listen to my future proposals and try to be flexible.

  King Hussein of Jordan was at the White House on April 25, and he was reluctant to aggravate other Arab leaders by engaging with Israel but willing for others to explore possibilities.

  Syria’s President Hafez al-Assad declined my invitation to visit the United States, but I arranged to meet with him in Geneva, Switzerland, in June. He was supportive of my ideas but insisted that a broad spectrum of Arab leaders should participate and that the Soviet Union should cohost any peace talks.

  Peace Treaty, Sadat, Begin, Carter, painted October 2003.

  After taking office as prime minister of Israel, Menachem Begin made some very harsh statements that almost precluded any necessary compromises, but he made a fine impression on all of us when he came to visit in July. We had long private talks, and I had the impression that he would not abandon his basic commitments to his supporters in Israel but would be as accommodating as possible to my proposals concerning peace with Egypt and Palestinian control over their own affairs.

  At this time it was assumed that there would be a multinational peace conference in Geneva, in accordance with UN Security Council Resolution 338. This plan soon proved to be too bureaucratic for implementation, and the planned involvement of both the United States and the Soviet Union aroused strong opposition from Israel and Egypt.

  One weekend when our family was enjoying Camp David, Rosalynn suggested that this would be an ideal place for negotiating teams to benefit from the privacy and quiet atmosphere. I agreed with her and sent handwritten invitations to Begin and Sadat in August 1978 to join me for comprehensive peace talks. They both accepted.

  I described our thirteen days together in Keeping Faith, and several other books have been written about our negotiations at Camp David, but I would like now to describe some of the more personal relationships that developed there.

  I had practically memorized the maps of disputed areas and the voluminous briefing books prepared on the biographies of Begin and Sadat by our intelligence agencies. These included their early lives, political careers, promises and obligations to powerful political groups, and psychological analyses predicting how they would react to pressure while negotiating and after they returned home.

  When Begin arrived at Camp David in September 1978, he made it clear to me that he was prepared only to outline some general principles and then turn over the responsibilities to our cabinet officers for future detailed negotiations. I disagreed and found that Sadat was willing to support my more ambitious plans for peace talks. I got both leaders to agree that if we failed I would make public my final proposal and let each of them explain why he accepted or rejected it. Another agreement was that we would not share our daily discussions with the outside world, and we did not deny a rumor among the two negotiating teams that all the outside phone lines were tapped.

  At first I thought I could bring both men into a small room in my cabin and get them to discuss with me all the advantages that a peace agreement could bring to their people. But I found this to be impossible, because both of them would ignore my proposals and revert as soon as possible to vitriolic exchanges about things that had happened during the four wars between their countries during the previous thirty years. On occasion, they would go back to Biblical days. Finally, after three days had been wasted in loud arguments, I decided that they should be kept apart, and we maintained this arrangement for the remaining days together. I had created a single document that outlined my concept of a comprehensive peace agreement. I would take it, usually first to the Israelis and then to the Egyptians, modifying the text only when absolutely necessary. Progress came slowly but surely, paragraph by paragraph.

  Tensions became so great that I thought we should take a break, and we all agreed to visit the nearby Civil War battlefield at Gettysburg. All officers trained for military duty had studied this conflict in detail, as had I and almost all the top leaders from Israel and Egypt. There were excited comments as we were guided from one location to another—except from Begin, who had never received military training. I began to worry about his relative isolation in the group, but then we reached the place where Abraham Lincoln made his historic address. Everyone got respectfully quiet to contemplate the scene, and after a few moments Begin began to recite Lincoln’s words: “Fourscore and seven years ago . . .” This was an emotional experience, the most memorable of the day.

  Late at night on the ninth day I became concerned about Sadat’s safety. He was ahead of all his delegation in accommodating my proposals, and we knew that some of the Egyptians were fervent in their hatred and distrust of Israel. His foreign minister had resigned in protest and returned to Egypt, and some of his other top officials were on the verge of rebellion because of concessions he had made. I had sent word that I wished to see Sadat late that afternoon and was told that, uncharacteristically, he had already gone to bed and did not wish to be disturbed. I was doubtful about the truthfulness of this response, and for one of the few times in my life I could not go to sleep. I finally arranged through Zbig Brzezinski to have security arranged outside Sadat’s cabin, and I was relieved to see him the next morning.

  On the eleventh day, I was meeting with Secretary of Defense Harold Brown about some important budget issues when Secretary of State Cy Vance burst into the room and said that Sadat had his luggage on the porch of his cabin and had asked for a helicopter to take him back to Washington for a return to Egypt. This was one of the worst moments of my life. I knew that he was doubtful of our potential success after Israeli Foreign Minister Moshe Dayan told him that Israel would make no more concessions. I went into my bedroom, knelt and prayed for a while, and for some reason I replaced my T-shirt and blue jeans with a coat and tie for the first time since I’d arrived. Only then did I go to Sadat’s cabin, where he and I had a terrible confrontation. I used all the arguments and threats I could muster, and eventually he agreed to give me one more chance.

  By the thirteenth day there were only a couple of unresolved issues, which were of paramount importance to Prime Minister Begin. One concerned the status of Jerusalem and the other removal of all Israelis from Egyptian territory. He would not yield on either, and he was very angry with me. We all decided that our only option was to return to Washington, acknowledge failure, and plan for some possible future efforts. My secretary came to me with a request from Begin that I sign photographs of the three leaders as souvenirs for his eight grandchildren. Without telling him, she had called Israel and obtained their names, so I inscribed them, with love, to each child. I went to Begin’s cabin, and he admitted me with a polite but frigid attitude. I gave him the photographs, he turned away to examine them, and then began to read the names aloud, one by one. He had a choked voice, and tears were running down his cheeks. I was also emotional, and he asked me to have a seat. After a few minutes, we agreed to try once more, and after some intense discussions we were successful.

  On the way back to Washington we called Presidents Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford to give them the good news, and followed this with a press conference at the White House.

  Panama

  My first knowledge of Panama came when I was a student at Georgia Tech, an engineering school that concentrated on relations with Latin American countries. There were several students from Panama, my first acquaintance with anyone from a foreign country, and I was able to practice my rudimentary Spanish. They were proud of the Panama Canal, which provided good job opportunities for them and a permanent connection with the United States. As a naval officer serving on ships that operated in the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, I
became more aware of how valuable the canal was to international traffic, in times of peace and war. It was during my time as a state senator that I became aware of serious disharmony between Panamanians and Americans. My friends from Panama told me about the arrogance of some Americans who lived in the Canal Zone, prejudice against Panamanians with dark skin, and preference in hiring and pay practices that made local workers feel inferior. As president, I began working on a settlement of the Panama Canal arguments as early as possible. I will describe this process in some detail because it would become the most difficult political challenge of my life, even including being elected president.

  The canal had been a divisive issue between America and the people of Panama and Colombia for seventy-five years. Construction of a canal had begun under the French in 1881 but was later abandoned because of increased costs and the deaths of many workers from typhus fever and other diseases. The United States had signed a treaty with Colombia in 1903 to take over the canal project, but when it was not ratified, President Theodore Roosevelt indicated to rebels in the Panama area that the United States would support their independence from Colombia. This strategy succeeded because of the exercise of American military force. The United States unilaterally drafted a favorable treaty with Panama, which was hurriedly signed on the night of November 18, 1903, in Washington, just a few hours before a delegation from Panama could arrive and examine the text. Panamanians were ostensibly represented by a Frenchman who had last visited Panama eighteen years earlier. The huge engineering feat was completed in 1914, and the canal was operated under American supervision, with many Panamanian workers.