Goodbye, Arab Solidarity

In his push for peace, did Egypt's Sadat move too far and too fast?

Euphoria still reigned in Cairo, and a slightly more restrained mood of optimism buoyed Jerusalem. But in other capitals of the Middle East --not to mention Washington and Moscow--there were worries and frowns about the moves that are following Egyptian President Anwar Sadat's historic visit to Israel. To keep alive the hopes that blossomed with his dramatic initiative, Sadat invited all the parties concerned, including Israel, to a Cairo summit to discuss and perhaps resolve issues standing in the way of a reconvened Geneva peace conference, including the thorny matter of Palestinian representation. But was Sadat moving too far and too fast? Last week there were grave fears that his proposed summit would not only accomplish little, it might also further split the Arab world.

Arab solidarity was indeed in tatters. Sadat's mission had been blessed by the moderate regimes of Morocco, Tunisia and the Sudan. His bankrollers, the Saudis (see box), at least did not say no. But the visit to Israel was denounced by Syrian President Hafez Assad, the Soviet Union, the Palestine Liberation Organization and the main rejection-front states, Iraq, Libya and Algeria. Last week the anti-Sadat forces gathered in Tripoli at the behest of Libyan Leader Muammar Gaddafi, who called the participants the "steadfast states." (Others dubbed the conference the "sorehead summit.") A second meeting of the rejectionists is supposed to take place in Baghdad.

Sadat seemed unaffected by the steady tirade of abuse directed against him by radical Arabs. Still, he was in the dilemma of a host who had called a party to which most of the essential guests would not come. Israel immediately accepted the invitation to the Cairo conference.* Syria, the P.L.O. and Lebanon, almost as immediately, said no, and the Soviets soon after responded in kind. Playing it close to the vest, Jordan's King Hussein said that he would go to Cairo if all other invited parties went; he added that he would go to Tripoli if every Arab state, including Egypt, showed up.

Two other prospective guests also agreed--somewhat reluctantly--to attend the Cairo summit. U.N. Secretary-General Kurt Waldheim said his organization would be represented by Finnish General Ensio Siilasvuo, chief of U.N. peace-keeping operations in the Middle East. Since he expected that the Cairo conference would have "limited participation," Waldheim suggested yet another preparatory conference under U.N. auspices. Israel said it would not attend, primarily because the P.L.O. was also invited. But other Arab states were more receptive to the idea, as was the Soviet Union. That raised the intriguing prospect that Israel and the U.S. might eventually stand as a rejectionist front against a U.N. conference.

At his Washington press conference last week, President Carter described the new Israeli-Egyptian contacts as "a historic breakthrough" toward peace and said the U.S. would send a representative --Assistant Secretary of State Alfred Atherton--to Sadat's Cairo summit. The tone of Carter's endorsement suggested to some that he was seeking to counter press criticism that Washington, now in the unaccustomed position of being a bystander to Middle Eastern events rather than the architect of them, was discouraging rather than helping Sadat's peace initiative.

In fact, the U.S. has been at least half a step behind these events, and the Administration's response to them has been confused. For example, Sadat told U.S. Ambassador in Cairo Hermann Eilts in a general way about his plans for a pre-Geneva conference to help clear up procedural problems. Eilts urgently passed the message to Washington. But before Carter and his policy advisers had a chance to assess the ploy and reply, Eilts learned that Sadat was planning to propose such a conference in a speech to Egypt's national assembly. A message was dispatched to Egypt asking Sadat to hold off announcing the summit until the U.S. could sound out other Arab states and the Soviet Union. The request either arrived too late or was ignored by Sadat.

Beyond that, reports TIME Correspondent Christopher Ogden, there was a definite split between the White House and the State Department on how to respond to the rapidly changing situation. White House advisers were enthusiastic, recognizing that Sadat had cracked through a psychological barrier to Geneva. The diplomatic professionals at Foggy Bottom, reflecting Secretary of State Cyrus Vance's innate caution, feared that Sadat's moves might alienate not only the Syrians but the Saudis as well. State was also concerned about a negative reaction from Moscow. As soon as it became clear that neither the other Arabs nor the Soviets were going to Cairo, Carter announced that the U.S. would attend--but only after the President had asked Sadat to delay his summit until mid-December. In the meantime, U.S. diplomats will be trying to lobby the Arab moderates--primarily Hussein and Lebanese President Elias Sarkis--to send representatives to Cairo.

The attitude of Syria's Assad will have much to do with what happens next. He willingly attended the Tripoli summit, which was held in the lavish Arabian Nights-style People's Hall that once served as the Libyan capital's royal palace. Assad was under strong pressure to become a member of an enlarged rejection front implacably hostile to any negotiations with Israel. Expectations were that he would, in the end, refuse the overtures. For one thing", the ideological gap between Iraq and Syria, which are governed by rival branches of the socialist Baath Party, is as deep as the one between Moscow and Peking. For another, most Middle East experts believe that Assad wants a peace settlement almost as much as Sadat does and cannot afford to burn too many bridges to Egypt.

Assad said as much at a Damascus press conference before flying off to Tripoli. Between Egypt and Syria, he said, there might be "disagreements on methods and perhaps on certain actions or incidents--but divorce between two brother countries, never." There was another small sign last week that Assad has not given up on Geneva. Without Syrian objection, the U.N. Security Council approved a six-month extension of the truce-observer force on the Golan Heights.

Most Western observers in Tripoli believe Assad joined the conference not to adopt the rejectionists' stance but to persuade them to modify and soften their attitude toward a peace settlement. The Syrian President is apparently convinced that the radicals can come to some sort of agreement that will counter what one of his aides calls "the present drift toward surrender." But any such agreement, as far as Assad is concerned, will have to rest on the premise that peace is the goal and war the last-ditch alternative. Depending on how the final summit declaration is worded, Assad may go along with Palestinian-proposed resolutions calling for economic sanctions against Cairo and other measures designed to isolate Sadat.

The rejectionist Arabs can denounce Sadat all they want, but basically they --and not Sadat--are the ones who face hard political choices. Egypt, with a population of nearly 40 million, is by far the most populous Arab state and has the largest army in the Middle East. Because of Sadat's cool relations with Moscow, Egypt's Soviet-supplied military machine is rundown and short of parts. Nonetheless, another Arab war against Israel would be possible only if Egypt joined in. Jordan has little air support for its small (85,000-man) but well-trained army. Roughly half of Syria's forces are either keeping the peace in Lebanon or guarding the tense frontier with Iraq. Libya and Iraq have plenty of Russian equipment to offer the confrontation states, but neither country borders on Israel. As for the Palestinians, their only option is sporadic terrorism directed against 1) moderate Arab states or 2) Israeli border communities. The latter choice almost invariably leads to savage reprisals.

One Palestinian organization, the Syrian-backed Saiqa, has put out a contract on Sadat's life. If he were assassinated, either by a random fanatic or a committed rejectionist, Egypt might well be ruled by a military leftist more attuned to the radical Arab message. But for the moment, at least, Sadat is politically secure at home.

"Whatever they may say in Tripoli," reported TIME Correspondent William Stewart, "the mood in Cairo is still upbeat. Last week Sadat told a visiting delegation of 50 Bedouin chiefs from Sinai that during next year's Feast of Sacrifice, "we shall pray together in the heart of Sinai--there will be no more defeats, no going back. I shall pursue this call for peace.' (During this year's feast, Sadat prayed at Jerusalem's Al Aqsa mosque.) Sadat's office is inundated with pledges of support from around the country. In the streets of Cairo, in restaurants and hotels, Egyptians speak openly and warmly about his quest for peace. Sadat's mission is popular, and he knows it. The President, moreover, remains convinced that other Arab leaders will see the light. Tahsin Bashir, Egyptian Ambassador to the Arab League, last week told an audience at the American University in Cairo: 'Other forces in the Arab world will gradually, perhaps reluctantly, also take risks to free themselves from dogma. What he [Sadat] has done is irreversible.' "

Other than declaring that it will send delegates to the Cairo summit, Israel has not indicated its next moves. Privately, many Israeli officials were delighted by what they believed was U.S. discomfiture at the rapid pace of developments and by a muting of Washington's role as mediator. The Israelis suspect that the new direct contacts between Cairo and Jerusalem make them less susceptible to pressure from Washington to negotiate on what they consider to be unfavorable terms at Geneva.

Some Israelis, in this period of national exhilaration, were already speculating about what only a few weeks ago would have been totally impossible dreams: a peace treaty involving Egypt, Jordan and Israel that would shut out the P.L.O.; perhaps even a new economic and political alliance in the Middle East that would unite Egypt's markets and manpower, Israel's expertise and technology and Saudi Arabia's oil money. Curiously, the Syrians also had the same dream--but in the form of a nightmare. Last week Damascus officials were worried that a peace agreement might lead to a predatory kind of Zionist expansionism, with Israel seeking Middle East markets for consumer goods produced by cheap Arab labor.

Whatever thoughts he might have had privately, Begin in his public statements did little to encourage the dreamers. During a Knesset debate last week over the proposed Cairo summit, he took a hard line on territorial concessions in exchange for peace. Said Begin: "We do not accept the demand for June 4, 1967, lines [referring to Arab insistence that Israel surrender land captured during the Six-Day War], nor the demands for the establishment of a so-called Palestinian state, nor the repartition of Jerusalem." Begin also took a passing swipe at Israelis who feel his government owes Sadat some concrete token of friendship. "There is no doubt," the Premier observed, "that the greatest achievement is that we really said seriously to each other, 'No more war.' "

One man who apparently believes Israel must make a generous response to Egypt is Begin's own Foreign Minister Moshe Dayan. Some observers fear their disagreements on policy could lead to at least a temporary paralysis of Israeli diplomacy. In his Knesset speech, Begin insisted that Israel was not seeking a separate peace with Egypt or attempting to "drive any wedges between Arab countries." On a four-day visit to West Germany, where he conferred with Chancellor Helmut Schmidt, visited the former Nazi death camp at Bergen-Belsen and viewed 30 ancient Egyptian and Coptic relics on display in Bonn, Dayan was also asked about a separate peace with Sadat. "Any time, any time," he answered--adding, however, that Israel would prefer to negotiate with all the confrontation states. "But if they do not come, then it is better to negotiate with Egypt alone than not to negotiate at all."

It is precisely this possibility, that Sadat might make a separate deal with Israel, that both angers and frightens the radical Arabs. At the start of the Tripoli summit, Libya's Gaddafi said to P.L.O. Leader Yasser Arafat: "I told you all along that Sadat was not a man to trust. Now you know that I was right." Arafat shook his head in silent acquiescence. Without Saudi backing, Sadat simply could not sign such a peace agreement and hope to keep his stature as a leader within the Arab world. In Cairo, however, some diplomats last week were speculating about the prospect of a more subtle scenario for either the Cairo meeting or Geneva. Egypt--with the U.S. as watchful monitor--would negotiate an overall peace with Israel on behalf of all the confrontation powers. Once a draft was agreed upon, Sadat would present it to an Arab summit. If they agreed, all would be well. If they did not--so goes the theory--Sadat might then sign the document by himself. But as one of his aides carefully noted (with a grin), "It would not be a separate peace. We would leave blank spaces on the treaty for the others to sign whenever they liked." qed

* The invitation was formally handed to Israel's U.N. Ambassador Chaim Herzog by his Egyptian counterpart, Esmat Abdel Meguid, at a secret meeting in New York. In another display of post-Jerusalem good-fellowship, Ambassadors to Washington Simcha Dinitz of Israel and Ashraf Ghorbal of Egypt were joint guests of honor at a Sunday dinner given by ABC's Barbara Walters.

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