The New Lebanon Crisis

By William E. Smith

"The Israeli Defense Forces have taken postions in West Beirut to prevent the danger of violence, bloodshed and anarchy."

-- Statement by the Israeli Cabinet.

That was the Israeli government's explanation for its decision to send its armed forces into Muslim-dominated West Beirut last week following the assassination of Lebanon's President-elect Bashir Gemayel. The Israeli action alarmed the U.S., which saw it as a violation of a promise the Israelis made this summer to U.S. Special Envoy Philip Habib while he was negotiating the withdrawal of Palestine Liberation Organization guerrillas from West Beirut. It frightened the Lebanese capital's Muslim population, infuriated the governments of other Arab states, and led to a United Nations Security Council resolution calling on the Israelis to withdraw from Beirut. But no one could have anticipated that before the week was over, the Israeli peacekeeping exercise in West Beirut would lead, whether by complicity or carelessness or outright incompetence, to the massacre of hundreds of men, women and children in two Palestinian refugee camps that the Israelis were supposedly guarding.

First reports were fragmentary but horrifying. A group of armed men had entered the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps south of Beirut and opened fire on everyone they could find. They murdered young men in groups of ten or 20, they killed mothers, babies and old people. They even shot horses. And when it was over, they attempted, in a manner reminiscent of World War II, to destroy the evidence by bulldozing the bodies into makeshift common graves. TIME Correspondent Roberto Suro visited the Sabra camp late Friday afternoon and counted 50 corpses in one place. A Red Cross worker at a nearby hospital estimated that 450 bodies had been removed from the two camps.

What had happened? Practically everybody agreed that the gunmen were right-wing Lebanese Christian militiamen, and were either from the Lebanese Forces led by the vengeance-bent Gemayel clan or from the militia run by Major Sa'ad Haddad, which is based in southern Lebanon and is closely alh'ed with the Israelis. The Lebanese Forces would be the more logical culprits, since they live in the region and were in mourning for their fallen leader. On the other hand, there were reports that a group of Haddad's men were seen in the vicinity of the camps on the day of the murders.

More baffling was the role the Israelis had played. Certainly Israeli soldiers had not done the shooting, but the Israelis controlled the area, had checkpoints near the camps, and were within earshot of the firing. How and why had they allowed the militiamen to enter the camps? At the Israeli checkpoint outside the Sabra camp, an officer of the Lebanese Forces told Correspondent Suro Friday afternoon: "We have been waiting to get in there for years.'' Explaining that his troops had been going from house to house through the camp "clearing out the last fighters," he added: "We are better at this kind of operation than the Israelis. We have had more practice." Asked if his men were taking any prisoners, he replied, "The only people in that camp now want to fight to the end. I do not think there are any prisoners."

When newsmen tried to enter the Sabra camp late Friday afternoon, they were stopped at the checkpoint by Israeli soldiers, who told them that fighting was still going on inside the camp. Reported Suro: "We could hear the burst of automatic weapons fire and the explosion of grenades. It was clearly not a firefight because the volleys of gunfire were not being returned: the guns were being fired in only one direction." Israeli soldiers rested at the edge of the camp even as the firing continued. They did not appear concerned about snipers or any kind of attack from inside the camp. Obviously the Israelis knew of the blood-hatred between the Muslims and the Christians. How could they have failed to realize that, under their very noses, a massacre of Palestinian civilians was taking place?

By late Saturday, the full impact of the events in Beirut was being felt throughout the world. Israel was virtually shut down for celebrations of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. The government was also preoccupied with a new outburst of anti-Jewish terrorist attacks in Brussels and Paris that wounded more than 40 people. As a result, though the government promised to conduct an inquiry, official reaction was slow and confused. A military spokesman claimed that Phalangist forces had broken into the Shatila camp and started a fight, and the Israeli troops had intervened; shots were exchanged between Phalangists and Israelis, he said, and the Israelis had prevented an even worse massacre than took place. In Washington, Ronald Reagan expressed his sense of horror at the murders. Radio Moscow blamed the Israelis and their "Lebanese Christian puppets" for the massacre. Zehdi Labib Terzi, P.L.O. observer at the U.N., denounced what he called the "genocide" in West Beirut, and P.L.O. Chairman Yasser Arafat, declaring that as many as 1,400 had been slain, appealed for help--including from the Soviet Union--in protecting the lives of Palestinians in Lebanon. The U.S., France and Italy, the three nations that had contributed troops to the peacekeeping force in Lebanon last month, called on the UN. to dispatch observer teams to the "place of suffering and human loss."

The event that precipitated the massacre at the Sabra and Shatila camps had occurred scarcely 72 hours earlier. At exactly 4:08 last Tuesday afternoon, an explosion in the heart of East Beirut shook buildings for blocks around. An instant later, a huge cloud of dust and smoke began to rise above a three-story structure whose ganglia lay exposed and bare. In the street outside, a Christian Phalangist member of the Lebanese parliament raised his hand to his mouth and cried "Ya Allah![My God!] That's the Kata'eb!"

He was referring to the headquarters of Gemayel's Christian Phalange Party. The explosion had smashed cars and scattered parts of bodies through the streets Near by was the head, shoulder and arm of a person who had been blown apart. Sirens screaming, the cars of Gemayel's Lebanese Forces began screeching to a halt in front of the building. Suddenly a Phalangist official struck himself on the face in dismay and frustration and shouted: "Bashir is inside!"

A bomb, later estimated to have weighed at least 200 lbs., had somehow been placed on the third floor of the heavily guarded building. When it was detonated, probably by remote control, the charge shattered most of the structure, causing the upper stories to crash down on the first floor, where the President-elect and 100 members of his party were holding their regular weekly meeting. By 4:17, when the first ambulance arrived, the whole street was filled with shouts of "Bashir! Bashir!" A Phalangist soldier threw his rifle to the ground, sank to his knees and sobbed. A fire engine arrived, but there was no water for its hoses.

Inside the building, TIME Correspondent David Halevy found a scene of death and devastation. "Someone was throwing mattresses and pieces of cloth over the bodies on the floor. The air was filled with the stench of cordite, dust and blood. Pillars of concrete, stone and pieces of metal were everywhere. About 20 people were trying to dig somebody out of the rubble. They were screaming, 'Hada Bashir! Hada Bashir! [This is Bashir!]' Half of his body was buried beneath stone and chunks of concrete. He did not move, nor did he talk. His face was visible, but to me he was not recognizable. He was either very badly wounded or already dead. I looked at my watch: it was 4:28 p.m."

Eight hours passed before the Lebanese radio announced the news of the assassination of Gemayel, whose body was so badly disfigured that his wife had to confirm her husband's identity by looking at his wedding ring. At first there were reports that Gemayel had walked to a nearby hospital to be treated for minor wounds. But in midevening, the Lebanese radio abruptly switched from its normal programming and began playing somber music. The announcement of his death came at midnight. All told, 26 died in the explosion.

The assassination of Gemayel, who was due to have taken office this Thursday, shattered any hopes for a firm beginning to an orderly resolution of Lebanon's many problems. Nobody even knew who would be running the country once the term of the present President, Elias Sarkis, expired on Sept. 23. Among the very few announced candidates was Gemayel's elder brother Amin, 40, who first declared that he was assuming command of the Lebanese Forces and later was nominated for the presidency by the Phalangist Party. Amin is neither as popular nor as strong a potential leader as the late Bashir. But the Maronite Christian community, from which the President is traditionally chosen, was quickly rallying behind him. Amin, who is supported by 16,000 militiamen, was even beginning to sound a bit presidential. At his brother's funeral Amin swore that "the march of Bashir Gemayel will continue until we bring peace to Lebanon's soil."

Even before Bashir was buried, events in Lebanon took another ominous turn. At dawn on Wednesday, the Israelis, arguing that they needed to maintain order, moved into West Beirut, the area they had besieged for three months this summer. Now, with more than 11,000 Palestine Liberation Organization fighters out of the city and evacuated to other Arab countries, the Israelis encountered only modest resistance from Lebanese leftist militiamen and remnants of P.L.O. forces.

One of the most dismaying aspects of last week's events in Lebanon was that, until the very moment of the explosion that killed Gemayel, Lebanon had appeared to be emerging at last not only from its summer of war but from the years of domination by the P.L.O. For the first time since the civil war began in 1975, a semblance of legal authority and security was returning to the city. Though he still had many enemies, Gemayel had made firm strides toward national reconciliation, emphasizing that he intended to be a President of all the Lebanese, and not just the Maronites.

Once he was inaugurated, Gemayel planned to introduce a system of governmental reforms and to build an effective national army. He also intended to make peace with Israel, although he was resisting pressure from the Begin government to sign a treaty soon after his inauguration. Indeed, Prime Minister Begin, Defense Minister Ariel Sharon and Foreign Minister Yitzhak Shamir went so far as to meet secretly with Gemayel in northern Israel two weeks before his death to urge a treaty on him. But Gemayel wanted some breathing space; he knew that signing an agreement with Israel so quickly would anger large segments of Lebanon's fractious population.

Gemayel was working on more immediate problems when disaster struck. He had gone to his party headquarters on Tuesday to discuss plans for the Christian militias in East Beirut to hand over their weapons to the Lebanese army. The meeting had barely begun when the huge bomb on the third floor was detonated.

Who killed Gemayel? There was no shortage of suspects. He was hated by the leftist Muslim militias and by the Syrians. The P.L.O. had been his enemy for years. There was also a theory advanced by Arab leaders in Lebanon that Israel was behind the bombing because Gemayel was resisting pressure from the Begin government to sign a peace treaty. The U.S. dismissed such conjecture, pointing out that Israel's interests would best be served by having a strong neighbor on its northern border. But, as one U.S. analyst noted, "it says a great deal about current sentiment in Lebanon that so many suspect it."

Gemayel also had powerful enemies within the Maronite Christian community. The family of former President Suleiman Franjieh had a score to settle with the Gemayels. In 1978, Franjieh's eldest son Tony was killed by men believed to be Phalangists, and the old man swore vengeance. The Lebanese leftists and the Palestinians may have hated Gemayel, but could they have managed to plant a bomb inside the Phalange headquarters? Presumably it would have been easier for one of the Christian factions, which might have had friends inside the Phalange who were ready to enter into a conspiracy.

Whoever the killers were, they left a political void that will not easily be filled. A few possible candidates were mentioned. One was Camille Chamoun, 82, who served as President from 1952 to 1958 and in the end had to seek the help of the U.S. Marines to keep the country from disintegrating. Another was Raymond Edde, 69, a former presidential aspirant living in Paris. But Bashir's brother Amin has become the front runner simply by announcing his candidacy.

While Lebanon's leaders were struggling to settle the political crisis that followed Gemayel's death, the Israelis were busy taking over West Beirut, a goal long desired by Israeli Defense Minister Sharon but denied him by the peace talks led by U.S. Special Envoy Habib. The local Muslim population was alarmed at the Israeli advance: most of the Palestinian guerrillas were gone, and the French, Italian and American peace-keeping forces had also departed. Just before an Israeli column reached the U.S. embassy in West Beirut, the Israeli troops were ordered by radio to avoid shooting at the embassy building "at all cost." Later, however, an Israeli officer took a shot at a U.S. Marine standing guard atop the embassy. The bullet missed, but by merely 2 ft. The Israelis later apologized, saying the officer thought the Marine was a leftist militiaman.

More serious was an Israeli intrusion into the compound of the Soviet embassy in West Beirut. According to a Soviet diplomat, several Israelis entered the compound Wednesday evening, demanding to know if there were any terrorists inside. Said the Soviet diplomat: "We told them this is an embassy; we have diplomats here, not terrorists." He said the Israelis left Friday, after Western reporters arrived to question their presence. "They were afraid of journalists," the Soviet official added. An Israeli military spokesman claimed that several Israeli soldiers had simply taken cover behind the wall surrounding the embassy compound. But independent sources said that for two days the Israelis had occupied the consulate, a school and a building used for lodging employees. The Israelis apparently were searching for Lebanese Communist lead ers who they suspected might have sought refuge in the embassy.

To justify their move into West Beirut, the Israelis said it was necessary, after Gemayel's death, to prevent bloodshed. The Israeli Cabinet also claimed that 2,000 P.L.O. fighters had remained in the city in "blatant violation of the departure agreement." Declared Begin: "The terrorists cheated us. Not all of them got out. They deceived Philip Habib too. They left behind a considerable number of terrorists, together with their arms."

The Israeli takeover of West Beirut shocked and angered the Reagan Administration; the massacre appalled it. From the beginning, Washington had regarded the Israeli move as unnecessary and potentially dangerous. The news of the wholesale killing of Palestinian civilians reinforced the view that the Israelis must get out of Beirut, and the sooner the better.

There were other, more troubling I questions, which were not easily answered. Knowing of the hatred and the capacity for vengeance of the various communities in Lebanon, what could have possessed the Israelis to allow the Christian forces to enter the refugee camps? Had they conspired with the militiamen to root out the last vestiges of the P.L.O. and Muslim leftist military opposition in West Beirut? Had their ranks been spread too thin to keep the executioners away from their victims? Or had they simply been careless about giving the bloodthirsty militiamen a chance to run amuck? Whatever the answer, the government of Menachem Begin had a lot of explaining to do. It may eventually have a lot to regret too, for the Beirut bloodbath could very well provide powerful impetus to the Palestinian drive for a homeland.

The leaders of Lebanon's feuding factions rarely come together voluntarily under any circumstances, but such an occasion took place last Wednesday when Bashir Gemayel was buried in his native village of Bikfaya, to the east of Beirut. Only a day or two before, Pierre Gemayel, 77, the family patriarch and founder of the Phalangist Party, had stood with his sons Bashir and Amin to begin what was to have been a weeklong ceremony of receiving well-wishers awaiting the inauguration of Bashir as Lebanon's President. Now, as the trumpets blared and Israeli jet fighters screamed overhead in tribute, the family was receiving mourners by the thousands. Among them, observed Amin, the man who aims to succeed his brother, were representatives of most of the country's factions, adversaries and even blood enemies, bound together for an hour or two in a ritual of mourning. But then it was over, and so, it seemed, was the fleeting moment of unity. --By William E. Smith.

Reported by Marsh Clark/Jerusalem and Wilton Wynn/Beirut

With reporting by Marsh Clark/Jerusalem, Wilton Wynn/Beirut

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