Monday, Apr. 07, 1975
GROUNDED SHUTTLE: WHAT WENT WRONG
"Our efforts to be a broker are dead." With that crisp summary, Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, at a meeting of congressional leaders last week, admitted the most notable failure in his extraordinary diplomatic career. Kissinger's inability to get Israel and Egypt to accept a second-stage disengagement agreement in the Sinai cast the Middle East once more into a mood of tension. The collapse of the American peace initiative left a reconvening of the Geneva Conference or another round of war as alternatives to Kissinger's step-by-step approach to bilateral negotiations. What had gone wrong? Who was to blame? What would happen next?
Washington's pique, as President Ford's reaction indicated, was directed mostly at Israel. Kissinger himself was particularly disappointed that the divided and insecure government of Premier Yitzhak Rabin was not bold enough to make more concessions to Egyptian President Anwar Sadat, who had risked his political reputation in the Arab world by undertaking the bilateral talks. The breakdown of negotiations meant that Jerusalem had lost not only the chance for accommodation in the Sinai but, more important, the opportunity of keeping the whole peacemaking process moving toward the kind of Middle East settlement that Israel has hoped for ever since it was founded.
The irony of Kissinger's failure was that he had come so close to success. The Secretary had spent seven months sounding out both sides and defining areas of discussion and possible agreement. Cairo and Jerusalem both encouraged him to resume his unique diplomatic shuttle, which Kissinger insisted he would not undertake unless there was a reasonable chance of success.
Sadat interpreted the negotiations as primarily involving a second-stage military disentanglement. He wanted major pullbacks of Israeli forces in the Sinai, which would allow Egypt to reopen the Suez Canal. Israel was willing to withdraw from the strategic Giddi and Mitla passes in the Sinai (see map page 14) and also from the Abu Rudeis oilfields, which have been pumping Egyptian oil for Israel since they were captured in the 1967 Six-Day War. In return, however,
Israel demanded a declaration of nonbelligerency from Egypt.
This Sadat refused to give, for two reasons: 1) a declaration of nonbelligerency would mean a formal end to hostilities between the two countries at a time when Israel still occupied large areas of Egyptian territory, a politically unacceptable concession; 2) any declaration of nonbelligerency would split Egypt off from its Arab allies, and Sadat had publicly committed himself to the proposition that there can be no formal peace with Israel unless a settlement is also made with the Syrians and the Palestinians.
Israel was not prepared to make any concessions on the Golan Heights to the Syrians, and it refuses to discuss the future of the West Bank with the hated Palestine Liberation Organization. Kissinger was, however, able to narrow the differences between Egypt and Israel on the Sinai. But the more they were narrowed, the more difficult the process became.
The Israelis, who put $250 million into defense lines around the passes, and would have to spend $170 million on building new positions farther back, wanted an agreement lasting up to eight years. They were persuaded to offer a three-year limit. Kissinger was able to get Sadat to commit Egypt to a purposely vague "nonuse of force" statement, in which Cairo pledged that it would not engage in warlike activities for the period of the agreement. Kissinger felt that this could have satisfied Israel's requirements of nonbelligerency, even though the Israelis feared a Soviet use of the veto in the United Nations Security Council.
But Sadat would not formally commit himself to a timetable longer than a one-year mandate for the U.N. peacekeeping force in the Sinai. Furthermore, the statement deliberately left vague what action Egypt might take if Israel went to war with another Arab state. He also turned down Israel's proposals for such "fruits of nonbelligerency" as joint operation of the Abu Rudeis oilfields, an end to Egypt's economic boycott of Israel and indirect tourism between Egypt and Israel, on the ground that they were all aspects of a formal nonbelligerency agreement. Ultimately the sides could not even agree on a modified pullback of Israeli forces to the middle of the passes, which Jerusalem suggested as a compromise when the idea of a larger-scale withdrawal fell through.
The Israeli Cabinet, remarked one Kissinger aide as the negotiations neared a climax, "seemed to want an agreement as individuals, but when it came time to act as a group, they were paralyzed." Kissinger privately believed that Rabin wanted to accept but felt he could not because of his political opposition. In an extraordinary meeting that continued past sundown into the Sabbath, the Cabinet, after heated debate, agreed on a last proposal. The Israelis would pull back to the east end of the passes and U.N. forces would be inserted between them and the Egyptians at the west end; Egypt could take over Abu Rudeis as an enclave inside Israeli-held territory, with access across a 100-mile road controlled by U.N. checkpoints.
Kissinger cabled the proposal to Egypt but got back a flat no; Sadat at that point wanted all of the passes. The Secretary's voice was shaking as he bade farewell to Israel after the collapse of the talks. Even hawkish Defense Minister Shimon Peres, a victim of fatigue and disappointment, had wept during a meeting with Kissinger at the King David Hotel.
On the flight back to Washington, Kissinger summed up the collapse of the talks in an evenhanded manner: "The political situation in Israel made it impossible to get off the nonbelligerency kick. The international situation in the Arab world made it impossible for Sadat not to at least get the Israelis out of the passes." U.S. diplomats privately praised the Egyptian President for his apparent willingness to compromise and roasted Rabin as a weak Premier who in the crunch turned out to be a prisoner of his coalition Cabinet.
As a result of the talks' collapse, Rabin became something of an instant hero, largely because, as a political columnist for the newspaper Yediot Aharanot explained it, "he has proved he is not America's man." The Knesset overwhelmingly approved a resolution upholding the Premier's actions; even the conservative, antigovernment Likud bloc joined in. A post-deadlock poll by Israel's Institute of Applied Social Research showed that 91% of Israelis supported their Premier (although 58% also expressed hope that the government would work toward a negotiated settlement).
The poll results assuaged Israel perhaps, but they did nothing for Washington. President Ford was annoyed with Jerusalem because he felt that the Israelis, out of their own sense of self-interest, should have done more to encourage the peace initiative of the U.S. It is, after all, the Jewish state's principal military supplier and almost only trustworthy ally. In an effort to keep negotiations going and put the Israelis on notice about the consequences they faced if the talks broke down, Ford dashed off a message to Rabin. "I am disappointed to learn," he cabled, "that Israel has not moved as far as it might." The President warned that the U.S. intended to reassess its position in the Middle East, "including our policy towards Israel" -- a bald reference to Israel's expected $2.5 billion request for military aid in fiscal 1976. It was the sharpest rebuke to Jerusalem since President Eisenhower in 1956 pressured Israel, France and Britain to end the Suez war.
The Israelis insisted after the talks collapsed that Sadat had been hostile to them all along. The truth is that Sadat is probably the most moderate Arab they are likely to negotiate with for a long time. As Political Analyst Milton Viorst last week noted in the Washington Post, "What Sadat offered Israel was, in a word, his body. Through Kissinger, he was telling Rabin, as he tried to tell Mrs. Meir in late 1973, that he would act as Israel's broker in the Arab world if he could get some visible help from the Israelis. Whatever Israelis may say about him, Sadat clearly considers it more important to get on with Egypt's economic development than to keep on waging futile wars."
Indeed moderation -- flavored with firmness -- was the keynote of Sadat's special address to Egypt's People's Assembly last weekend. "Some may expect an emotional reaction from me [to the breakdown of the Kissinger efforts] but I prefer action to reaction," declared the Egyptian leader. Thus, despite fears that Cairo would not renew the mandate for the U.N.'s peace-keeping forces in the Sinai, which expires on April 24, Sadat said he would agree to a three-month extension because "I do not want to place a sudden crisis before the international community." Yet, he explained, he would not agree to a six-month extension (the current term of the mandate) because he wants "the whole world to know that there are limits to time as well as to patience."
Sadat also announced that the Suez Canal would be reopened June 5 -- the eighth anniversary of the 1967 war in which Israel's troops reached the east bank of the waterway, resulting in its closing. Although Sadat did not indicate whether Israeli ships or cargo would be allowed to transit the canal, its reopening and the repopulating by Egyptians of towns along its banks have been awaited as concrete signs that Cairo prefers to pursue a policy of peace. He warned, however, that Egypt was capable of protecting the canal: "We possess a deterrent capacity that makes our enemy think twice and thrice before any rashness. Any infringement of any single position on the canal will be met with a sufficient deterrence that will even be more painful."
Sadat sought to walk the diplomatic tightrope between the U.S. and the Soviets. He stressed he "would not recommend a retreat" from the improved relations with the U.S. and Western Europe, but -- as was to be expected in wake of the failure of the Kissinger shuttle -- he also emphasized that Egypt's ties with the Soviet Union would be placed "in their right position." That will almost certainly mean a warming of Cairo-Moscow relations.
To avoid being made the scapegoat and to protect its chances of getting U.S. aid, the Israeli government, early in the week, launched a campaign to dodge any blame for the failure of the talks. Rabin eagerly explained Israel's position (see interview page 13).
Israeli Ambassador to Washington Simcha Dinitz, meanwhile, flew back to the capital by way of Manhattan, where he spent two hours briefing 150 American Jewish leaders. After hearing Dinitz' explanation of the failure of the talks, members of the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations voted to undertake a two-pronged campaign. To protect Israel's request for military assistance, they hope to carry out an end-around play against Old Footballer Jerry Ford by lobbying directly with Congress to continue the level of aid. The conference also hopes to help generate an atmosphere in which bilateral negotiations with Egypt will start again.
What can effectively take the place of the shuttle now is unclear. Israeli officials last week suggested a revival of proximity talks similar to those held in Secretary of State William Rogers' day. Egyptian and Israeli ambassadors, or even foreign ministers, might resume negotiations in Washington with State Department officials serving as middlemen. Far likelier is a resumption of the suspended peace talks in Geneva. That is the aim of the Soviets, who have not interfered with Kissinger's step-by-step talks as long as they did not rule out a later Geneva meeting in which Moscow would be a participant. Kissinger himself always assumed that there eventually would be a return to Geneva.
At this point, however, Geneva is likely to become little more than a platform for exchanging antagonistic propaganda, aimed primarily at the audiences back home. Kissinger has told the Israelis all along that by interposing himself and the U.S. in negotiations and trying to solve one problem at a time, he was shielding Israel from the tremendous pressure that all the Arabs plus the Soviets would bring to bear at Geneva. There Israel will have to negotiate not only the Sinai but also the Golan Heights and possibly the Palestinian question as well, more or less simultaneously. Sadat's strategy at Geneva will probably aim at isolating Israel from the world even further, in much the manner that Rhodesia and South Africa have been made diplomatic pariahs. Egypt will argue that since Israel refuses to return captured Arab lands, it stands in open defiance of United Nations resolutions 242 and 338 on the Middle East.*
There may also be a broader danger for Israel at Geneva. King Faisal's sudden death last week was an unexpected short-term blessing for Sadat, in a way: the Islamic world was so concerned with mourning the King that there was little criticism of Egypt from less moderate Arab leaders who opposed the Kissinger talks all along. Sadat, nevertheless, stressed Egypt's support of Arab unity by conferring in Riyadh with Palestine Liberation Organization Leader Yasser Arafat after King Faisal's funeral. At Geneva, Egypt and Syria are expected to carry out the will of the Arab summit at Rabat last October by jointly demanding that the P.L.O. be seated instead of Jordan. The Soviets will automatically go along with such a resolution, but Washington cannot. Kissinger's stated position has long been that the U.S. will not talk to Arafat or the P.L.O. until the Palestinian guerrilla groups end terrorist acts and demonstrate responsibility. That attitude is likely to weaken U.S. relations with moderate Arabs at Geneva, and will generate added recriminations against Israel for getting Washington into such a fix.
Unproductive as Geneva promises to be, however, the alternative -- renewed war -- is obviously much worse. There is a clear and present danger that some incident could trigger a war even before the talks begin. During the negotiations, in deference to the Kissinger shuttle, Israel did not retaliate against the Palestinian attack on Tel Aviv's Savoy Hotel last month (TIME, March 17) in which eleven Israelis were killed. A major raid on fedayeen hideouts in southern Lebanon could lead to larger trouble, especially now that the P.L.O. and the Syrians have agreed to form a unified military command. Many experts worry about what might happen if the two U.N. forces were pulled out of the Sinai buffer zone or from the Golan Heights. "If that happens," a Western military observer in Beirut predicted last week, "there will be a bump -- and I don't see how it could be localized. There's too much hardware around on both sides and too much emotion. Events will simply take over."
Indeed, even as the Kissinger talks went on, rearming was under way simultaneously on either side. Both Syria and Israel are now stronger than they were before the October war, and Egypt is not far behind (see chart page 14). Ominously, both sides are armed with surface-to-surface missiles -- the Soviet Scud, the U.S. Lance and the Israeli Gabriel -- that have ranges of up to 200 miles and could extend future hostilities into civilian areas. Israel has already let it be known that in the event of another war, Arab nations supporting Egypt, Syria or Jordan may also come under attack.
Neither side really wants war. Sadat, for example, faces staggering domestic problems. Egypt's economy faces a trade deficit of $2.3 billion this year, and $1 billion in short-term debts are about to come due. As long as the Suez Canal remains closed, it costs Egypt about $350 million a year in potential revenue. About 40% of Israel's G.N.P. goes for defense, and taxes have been raised to record highs. Beyond that, the loss of 2,552 Israeli soldiers during the October war is still felt keenly in a nation where veterans of three earlier conflicts found themselves fighting again in 1973 with their sons as comrades in arms.
Nonetheless, military forces in Egypt and Syria went on alert as the Kissinger negotiations faltered; Israel called up some reserves even in the midst of last week's Passover observance. Syria is importing extra supplies of wheat, barley, rice and frozen meat, as it did shortly before the October war.
Writing in the current Foreign Affairs quarterly, Harvard Professor of Government Stanley Hoffman suggests one alternative to war. He wrote before the collapse of the shuttle, but he took that possibility into account. "It is time," Hoffman insists, "for a sweeping Israeli initiative aimed at a peace settlement. Instead of what is essentially an American policy groping to bring gradual peace to the parties, we now need a decisive effort by the party whose future existence and security are at stake, whose role in the Middle East has been the heart of the matter since 1948, and which finds itself on the defensive.
"Rather than letting concessions be squeezed out of them by the gentle coaxing and the subtle threats of Mr. Kissinger," Hoffman argues, "the Israelis should -- even if this does not lead anywhere at once -- seize the initiative toward neighbors who will remain their neighbors just as France remains the neighbor of Germany, and with whom permanent war is hopeless," He adds: "What is required is a willingness on the part of Israel, in exchange for its recognition and the signature of a peace treaty, to accept categorically and in specific terms its withdrawal from occupied territories." The Israelis would also be expected to grant Palestinians of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip the right to self-determination.
The argument makes sense, of course. The problem at the moment, as former Harvard Professor Kissinger could surely tell his onetime colleague, is to find an Israeli government that is strong enough and bold enough to attempt so daring a gesture.
* The carefully phrased U.N. resolutions in effect call for the Israeli withdrawal from occupied Arab territory in return for Arab recognition of Israel, but each side insists on withholding its part of the bargain until the other has acted.
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