Meanwhile, for all her disappointments and setbacks, Golda Meir had absolutely no intention of resigning. In her mind she still had work to do. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger was shuttling back and forth between Jerusalem and Cairo, and then between Jerusalem and Damascus, painstakingly hammering out separation-of-forces agreements and prisoner of war exchanges. Not only that, but Egypt was in such dire straits that the prospect of a diplomatic breakthrough toward peace seemed possible for the first time – and she wanted to be around if and when it happened.
So she carried on, and surprisingly to some, her Labor Party won the postwar general election – the election Golda Meir had told Oriana Fallaci would be her last. Labor was returned to office again, albeit with a reduced number of Knesset seats. Still, public doubt and criticism were growing over the very questions which Menachem Begin had raised in his Knesset speech: the mistaken Intelligence assessments, the failure to implement a full-scale mobilization in time, and the misplaced confidence in the ability of the IDF regular forces to hold the line while the reserves were being mobilized. Who was responsible for these fatal errors? The government, surely! More than that, the Yom Kippur War seemed to debunk the popular delusion that the spectacular victory of the Six-Day War was proof positive that the IDF was invincible. In Golda’s mind it was. Israel’s performance in the Yom Kippur War, she contended, exceeded its military successes in the Six-Day War. Many an expert tended to agree.
But, inevitably, once the electoral dust settled the public protests began in earnest, and what started as a one-man vigil outside the prime minister’s office quickly burgeoned into mass, countrywide demonstrations as more and more reservists were demobilized and came home angry. It was an anger fueled by that matchless fury which Israelis reserve for their fallen idols. They were so angry, in fact, that in April 1974, following the findings of the inescapable inquiry commission, the once-indomitable Golda Meir, the woman who was an epic embodiment of true legends and legendary truths, became so discredited in the eyes of her exhausted and grieving nation that she and her fellow ministers, morally crippled, were compelled to resign. In stepping down, the path was paved for Yitzhak Rabin to step up to the plate.
Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin
First Term: 1974–1977
March 1 1922 – Born in Jerusalem.
1941 – Joins Palmach, the Hagana commando force.
1948 – Leads the Palmach ‘Harel’ Brigade in helping to smash the siege of Jerusalem.
1964 – Appointed Chief of Staff of the IDF.
1967 – Chief of Staff of the Six-Day War.
1968–1973 – Ambassador to Washington.
1974–1977 – Prime Minister.
Key Events of Prime Ministership
1975 – Negotiates through Kissinger interim agreement with Egypt entailing deep withdrawal in Sinai.
1976 – The Entebbe, Uganda, rescue operation.
1977 – Resigns because of his wife’s illegal bank account.
1992 – Reelected prime minister.
1995 – Assassinated by a Jewish extremist.
Photograph credit: Moshe Milner & Israel Government Press Office
Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and Sec. of State Henry Kissinger at a joint press conference, 12 July 1975
Chapter 22
The Instant Premier
Yitzhak Rabin had long wanted to go into politics, and less than a year had passed since his return from his Washington posting in the spring of 1973 when greatness was suddenly thrust upon him. His meteoric rise to the premiership, for which he was thoroughly unprepared, was due to the Labor Party’s disarray, still reeling as it was from the near-fatal surprise attack of the Yom Kippur War, its gruesome cost, and Golda Meir’s resignation. So the Party bosses scrambled around for a fresh face, one unblemished by the war, and by a process of elimination their gaze settled on him. Though still a political novice he seemed a fitting candidate: he was both a former IDF Chief of Staff and had been a highly effective ambassador to the United States, qualifications that gave him an intimate and intuitive knowledge of the country’s two most vital preoccupations: national defense and relations with Washington. Besides, he was a sabra – born of the land – and people liked the idea of a native Israeli ascending to the prime ministership for the first time.
The one person to oppose him was his fellow Laborite Shimon Peres, a man as single-minded as himself, whom he had disliked and distrusted ever since their personal and professional clashes in the early sixties, when Rabin was an aspiring IDF general and Peres an exceptionally young director-general of the ministry of defense. Both were enormously competent, but their personalities and dispositions were so different that whenever they confronted each other in the political arena their disagreements became gladiatorial combats for influence and power. This was what happened now in the Labor Party’s Central Committee, when Rabin beat his arch rival by a narrow margin of 298:254. Given his fellow contender’s powerful showing, the new and inexperienced prime minister had no choice but to offer him the second most influential spot in the cabinet: minister of defense. It was an appointment the chagrined Rabin would regret as “an error whose price I would pay in full for a long time to come.”32
Yitzhak Rabin took his prime ministerial oath of office on 3 June 1974, and soon afterwards invited a few of his old Washington hands to join his personal staff. He appointed me his adviser on Diaspora affairs as well as his English-language wordsmith. Hardly had we settled into our jobs when we were notified that President Nixon himself was planning a tour of the Middle East, accompanied by Secretary of State Henry Kissinger. No president of the United States had ever visited the Jewish State before, and the advance work this entailed was backbreaking.
“Never mind,” said Rabin, at his first planning session. “It is a good opportunity for me, so soon after taking office, to talk to Nixon and Kissinger face-to-face about continuing the disengagement negotiations begun by Golda after the war, and to firm up Nixon’s military supply commitments for the future. But if Nixon thinks his trip is going to wash away Watergate he’d better think again. That scandal will be waiting for him when he gets back to Washington, without a doubt.”
Comments of a similar nature echoed among the crush of correspondents and photographers in the main dining hall of the King David Hotel some two weeks later, as they waited for Secretary of State Kissinger to show up for a press conference. What brought me there was not only the press conference, but also an old Washington friend by the name of Willie Fort whom I had arranged to meet in the coffee shop. Not finding him there I sauntered into the dining hall, which was laid out theater-style for the press conference, and bumped into a Bonn correspondent whom I vaguely remembered from my days in the foreign press bureau. He was arguing earnestly with a gum-chewing American journalist that, as a German, he could read Kissinger’s mind better than any American.
“You don’t say?” said the American snidely. “And what’s your take on him today?”
“My take is that though Nixon has many pressing foreign policy headaches to deal with, and certainly enough to have kept him in Washington, here he is in the Middle East. I put this down to Kissinger. Of course Nixon took to the idea of coming here, because it distracts people’s attention from Watergate. Besides, he wants to take credit for Kissinger’s success in bringing about the military disengagements after the Yom Kippur War. But behind it all is Kissinger’s thinking – to do something big here, really big – something truly global.”
“Buster, to these people everything is global,” scoffed the American. “When they look at the Middle East they see the Soviet Union before they see Israelis and Arabs. That’s how they read maps. It’s the Cold War, my friend.”
“For Kissinger it’s Metternich, too,” said the German smugly.
“Who?”
“Metternich.”
This was not the first time I had heard a Kissinger connoisseur draw a parallel between Prince Klemens von Metternich of Austria and th
e American secretary of state. Von Metternich was a brilliant and cunning nineteenth-century statesman whose diplomacy resembled the intricacies of a game of chess, and had played a decisive role in the Congress of Vienna, which essentially redrew Europe’s political map after the Napoleonic Wars. Supposedly, Kissinger so admired Metternich that he modeled himself on him.
“So, what Metternich wizardry is Kissinger conjuring up now, wise guy?” asked the American.
“Kissinger has persuaded Nixon it’s time to push the Russians out of the Middle East entirely,” said the German. “He can only do that if he convinces the Arabs that Washington, not Moscow, has the ability to deliver Israel. America alone has the influence and the wherewithal to pressure Israel into giving back the territories the Arabs lost in the Six-Day War. If Kissinger succeeds in doing that the Arab world will automatically align itself with Washington. Then you would have here a pax Americana – America’s domination of the whole of the Middle East. And that’s a pure Metternich maneuver.”
“Bullshit!” said the American. “Kissinger’s a Jew. He lost God knows how many of his relatives in the Holocaust. Sure, he’ll twist Israel’s arm, but do you really think he’s going to jeopardize the country’s very existence to get the Russians out, which is what would happen if you’re right? And even if Kissinger tried, Rabin wouldn’t play ball. We saw in America how he tore the Rogers Plan to pieces. Besides, Rabin’s the general who captured those territories in sixty-seven, and those territories are the one card he holds which the Arabs desperately want back. He’ll give it back to them but only in return for something approximating peace. His doctrine is a piece of territory for a piece of peace – step-by-step. I’ve heard him say so umpteen times.”
“Hi, Yehuda! Sorry I’m late.”
It was Willie Fort, the man I had come to meet, pushing his way through the crowd. We grabbed a couple of chairs, took ourselves off to a corner by the door, and plunged into family news and politics.
Willie was about my age, in his mid-forties, but you would not have thought so by his looks. Short and chubby, he had a boyish face topped by jet black hair that flowed from a center parting and glistened like shining glass, a bit like Bob Hope. There was mirth in his clever eyes, and his wardrobe – he habitually sported extravagantly patterned suits over flashy shirts and flamboyant ties – exuded an irrepressible bonhomie.
Given my new position as adviser on Diaspora affairs, Professor William Fort was a good man to know. He was on intimate terms with all sorts of Washington grandees, and was also a prominent leader of his community. He was active in the United Jewish Appeal, Israel Bonds, and was a generous contributor to Israeli cultural causes. He had a reputation as an exceptionally gifted psychiatrist, with a professorship at Johns Hopkins University and an affluent practice in Georgetown, favored, so it was whispered, by White House neurotics and fashionable hostesses with hyphenated names.
Our chitchat was interrupted by a newspaperman standing close by, who suddenly called out in a most rascally fashion, “Here he comes – it’s King K. himself.”
Television lights from the mezzanine balcony overlooking the marble lobby bathed the place in a luminescent glow as an armored limousine with a gold-tasseled American flag drew up. Out of it emerged Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, surrounded by a phalanx of security. He blew in like a cyclone, exuding immense authority, and the guests in the roped-off lobby applauded while cameramen and photographers filmed and clicked as he, half-smiling, waved back over the heads of his bodyguards.
Mounting the dais, he said in his famous Bavarian accent, “I have no opening statement, so let’s get straight to the questions.”
A dozen hands shot up and multiple voices barked questions. The most strident, clearly Californian, asked: “Mr. Secretary, would you not say that President Nixon is a damaged leader, seeking to trump Watergate by coming here to the Middle East and thereby escape his crisis back home by trying to project an image of a confident world statesman – and all in an effort to keep himself in office?”
Everybody began scribbling as the secretary of state shot back, “President’s Nixon’s visit to the Middle East is a political event of the highest magnitude. The president has proven beyond doubt that he is indispensable as a peacemaker in this region. His administration’s accomplishments in helping to broker disengagement agreements, both on the Egyptian and the Syrian fronts after the Yom Kippur War, open up the long road to a permanent settlement. This is why – ”
The Californian broke in: “But how can he focus on these momentous issues when he’s facing possible impeachment back home? He’s fighting for his presidential life.”
Kissinger ignored the interruption and pointed to another questioner, but before he could open his mouth Kissinger swung back, aimed an accusing finger at the Californian, and snapped: “It seems to me that your question is more a media fixation than a presidential preoccupation. Wherever the president has traveled this last week and more” – he ticked off the names: Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Israel – “he has been received with enormous enthusiasm, as those of you who have been traveling with us can testify.”
“There wasn’t much evidence of that in Damascus,” growled the Californian in a stage whisper.
“That’s because you didn’t see what happened at the Damascus airport when President Nixon said goodbye to President Assad,” answered Kissinger, a sudden smile sneaking across his face. “The Syrian president kissed him on both cheeks, which is an extraordinarily important gesture in Arab culture, all the more so coming from one with a reputation of being the leading anti-American firebrand of the Arab world.”33
Chuckles rippled across the hall.
“Mr. Secretary” – this from the German correspondent – “it is said a diplomatic tilt is taking place here in the Middle East.”
“It depends on what you mean by tilt. What’s your question?”
“Is the tilt in favor of the Arabs, and will it have a long-term impact on the outcome of the Israel-Arab conflict?”
It was clear that the secretary of state liked the question. He leaned leisurely against the podium, dusted his hands, pursed his lips as if to gather his thoughts, and in an authoritative fashion proclaimed, “Until six or seven months ago, the Middle East was polarized between the Arab world and Israel. Every tension in this region had the insoluble quality of a superpower confrontation. The Arab states were backed by the Soviet Union and Israel by the United States. This is no longer the case. Now, a diplomatic turn has taken place. Without giving up our traditional friendship and support for Israel, we, the United States, have moved into a position where we can be helpful to all parties in a negotiation process. And because of this shift – or what you call a tilt – the Arab countries are reconsidering their previous one-sided alliance with one country alone.”
“Meaning the Soviet Union?”
“Exactly! The disengagement negotiations initiated by the United States after the Yom Kippur War, which have culminated in President Nixon’s current visit, are an affirmation of a dramatic reversal in the historic evolution of this area. The United States has now begun a relationship with all the countries in the region, not based on the exigencies of a particular crisis but on the basis of a long-term strategy of peace, prosperity, and progress. President Nixon’s visit has served to crystallize this direction. If we can stay this course by continuing the negotiation process, step by step – and we all know this is a very tricky and complicated part of the world – it could mark a historic turning point in the direction of a general peace, with America serving as honest broker.”34
All the ensuing answers were amplifications of this premise, and when the secretary of state stepped down and made his way back toward the lobby, Willie Fort, standing amid the crush, pressed forward against the velvet rope barrier and called out to him as he passed, “Heinz! Heinz!”
Caught off guard, Kissinger halted mid-stride, and momentarily stared at Willie.
Singularly excited, Wil
lie shouted with a beaming smile and an outstretched hand, “Heinz – recognize me? Wilhelm Furtwangler from Furth. Remember?”
The secretary of state flushed, threw Willie a contemptuous look, and strode on. His bodyguards, too, eyed Willie as if he was diseased, and shouldered him out of the way.
“What on earth was that about?” I asked Willie, flabbergasted.
White as a shroud, Willie seemed about to answer, but did not. Instead, he shook his head, smiled glumly to himself, and skulked off toward the coffee shop.
“What did you tell Kissinger your name was?” I asked, pulling up a chair.
Stoutly, as if testifying before a court of law, he replied, “My name is Wilhelm Furtwangler from Furth, Bavaria, the same place Heinz Kissinger comes from. We were at school together. My family escaped Germany and got to America in thirty-seven, his in thirty-eight. We were both fifteen. We settled in Washington Heights on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, where there were so many German Jewish refugees they called it the Fourth Reich. We went to the same school, George Washington High, and prayed at the same shul, Rabbi Breuer’s, very orthodox.”
I swallowed. “But there’s absolutely nothing German about you. You’re as Yankee as baseball.”
His mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile. “Me, a Yankee? I’m a German refugee kid in disguise, you jerk. I’ve been working at it all my life.”
“Then how come Kissinger has such a heavy accent and you’ve got none?”
“Because as a kid Heinz was shy and a bit withdrawn, and any speech therapist will tell you that shyness inhibits the ability to mimic, and you have to be a mimic like me to acquire accent-free fluency. Our indefatigable English teacher at George Washington High, Miss Bachman, tried with endless patience to rid Heinz of his Bavarian accent. ‘Henry, you have a chronic English-language speech disability,’ mimicked Willie impersonating Miss Bachman’s schoolmarm’s wheedling voice. ‘You must try harder to Americanize it.’”
The Prime Ministers: An Intimate Narrative of Israeli Leadership Page 29