ENDING THE PAIN?

By Kevin Fedarko

On the eve of the Jewish Sabbath last Friday, Israeli Prime Minister Shimon Peres felt the moment was right for a glass of Yardin champagne. Israelis consider this their finest drink, and Peres was convinced that nothing but the best would do, given what was about to occur. Earlier in the week, he had seen his peacemaking stance with the Palestinians pay off when the P.L.O. changed its charter, removing passages that denied Israel's right to exist. Now, the Prime Minister had a settlement to celebrate on a second front. He and U.S. Secretary of State Warren Christopher were preparing to announce that Grapes of Wrath, the blitzkrieg with which Israel had pounded Lebanon for 16 days, would soon end. A cease-fire agreement had been achieved. "Warren, you did it," Peres said, tilting his glass to the exhausted Christopher. The Israeli leader appeared almost euphoric, and also profoundly relieved.

Peres had good reason for both emotions, especially the relief. Since he launched Grapes of Wrath, the Israeli public had not turned against him; but neither had it rallied to him as he established a new reputation as a tough leader. After bashing Lebanon with artillery, missile boats, F-16 jets and helicopter gunships, Israel had not achieved even one of its military objectives. Hizballah, the Iranian-backed militia that has been fighting Israel in Lebanon since 1982, was still sending Katyusha rockets into the Galilee. And despite extensive damage to Lebanon's infrastructure and the death of some 160 civilians, support for the guerrillas was growing in Lebanon. With general elections just four weeks away, Peres' polls have slipped slightly--he now leads his rival, the Likud's Benjamin Netanyahu, 49% to 44%.

Peres needed to find an exit from Lebanon before stalemate became disaster, and he was looking to the Americans to provide it. The U.S. recognized that Grapes of Wrath seemed out of proportion to the attacks that provoked it; though Hizballah had fired missiles at civilians in the preceding weeks, they killed no one. Yet even when Israeli artillery destroyed a U.N. outpost near Qana that sheltered Lebanese refugees, killing 109 people, Clinton and his aides refused to condemn Israel. To Clinton, Peres is the keystone for Israel's effort to reconcile with its Arab neighbors. And as such, he merits backing. By providing support, the U.S. was endangering its relations with the entire Arab world, but the White House seemed to feel it had no other choice.

Thus on Saturday, April 20, Secretary of State Warren Christopher landed in Jerusalem. His objective was to put a stop to the killing immediately, and then lash together a new, written version of the 1993 ground rules governing the low-level war the Israeli army and Hizballah are waging in and around the "security zone" that Israel occupies in south Lebanon.

Peres began by telling Christopher that he would not stop shooting until an agreement was in place. The key to any deal, however, was held in Damascus by Syrian President Hafez Assad. He has 30,000 troops in Lebanon, which is essentially Syria's protectorate, and he can sometimes dictate to Hizballah. The guerrillas are useful to Assad, providing him with a card he can play in his negotiations with Israel over the Golan Heights. In this crisis, Hizballah and his influence over it put Assad at center stage, which was gratifying to Assad. In the course of the week, the foreign ministers of no fewer than eight countries were stacked up in Damascus like planes over an airport.

Assad treated the Americans, the only party to whom the Israelis would talk, with imperiousness. Twice, on April 20 and again last Monday, Christopher had to wait while Assad saw Russia's Foreign Minister. When Christopher and Assad did meet, the latter's habit of endlessly rehashing the same points drove the Americans slightly crazy. It also drove them to Jerusalem for several more meetings with the Israelis. On Tuesday, Christopher was back in Damascus and once again found himself cooling his heels. After arriving 20 minutes behind schedule, he was told Assad would not be available until the following morning.

This was an outright snub, and on Wednesday Christopher was, as a senior aide delicately put it, vexed. The Secretary devoted 20 minutes of the four-hour conference that next day to expressing his displeasure. The Syrian did not bother to apologize. He didn't even bother to get upset. But he did become more pliable. And the usually implacably decorous Christopher began to throw his weight around. "I'm not going to keep negotiating these little issues over and over again," the Secretary told Assad on Thursday. "If this is the way you want to negotiate, I'm leaving." Then he slammed shut his briefcase, stood up and said goodbye. Meeting adjourned.

By week's end those tactics were yielding results. When they returned to the Jerusalem airport on Thursday night, the Americans were giving one another the high-five on the tarmac. The reason for their satisfaction was a two-page document whose every sentence, word and comma had been tweaked and vetted many times over. "The Understanding," as it was called, essentially codified in writing the agreements reached in 1993 about how to conduct the war. Neither side had really hoped for anything more. The document is somewhat cryptic, but its provisions are basically these: Lebanon and Syria promised on behalf of Hizballah that no more missiles would be fired into Israel. They did not give up Hizballah's right to attack Israeli forces in the security zone, which Hizballah enjoys under international law, since the Israelis are an occupying power. However, Lebanon and Syria agreed to ensure that Hizballah would not launch such attacks while shielded by civilians. The Israeli forces, meanwhile, are permitted to defend themselves, but they cannot fire on civilian targets or again attack the country's infrastructure; they will also cease their current assault on Lebanon, which reached all the way to Beirut. If one party violates the agreement, a monitoring group consisting of the U.S., France, Israel, Lebanon and Syria will, in theory, step in to prevent escalation. The understanding was not actually signed by any country, and Hizballah was kept out of the negotiations. Assad assured Christopher, however, that he would induce it to comply.

For Peres, the resulting cease-fire paired neatly with his other bit of good fortune earlier in the week. On Wednesday the Palestine National Council, the P.L.O.'s quasi-parliament, had voted by an overwhelming majority to amend its charter and remove all articles calling for Israel's destruction. The vote was a lopsided 504 in favor and 54 against, with 14 abstentions. It was a triumph for Yasser Arafat, who declared, "The changing of the covenant is a debt. And we have to pay it."

To make the outcome as legitimate as possible, Peres had allowed some of the P.L.O.'s most notorious terrorists to travel to Gaza City to attend. There was Leila Khalid, who hijacked two airplanes in the '60s and '70s; Abu Daoud, one of the reputed organizers behind the 1972 Munich Olympics massacre; Abul Abbas, whose men hijacked the Achille Lauro in 1985 and shot Leon Klinghoffer. After the vote, Abul Abbas spoke about his reasons for supporting the amendments. With the television in his safe house tuned to Larry King Live (that night devoted to the Jackie Onassis auction), he admitted that hijacking the cruise ship was a mistake and said he regretted Klinghoffer's murder. "The situation is changed now," he said. "We will not need bombs and machine guns. The armed struggle should take a long vacation."

The PNC vote allowed Peres' Labor Party the very next day to respond by dropping the clause in its platform that opposed the creation of a Palestinian state. The change took place without any public storm in Israel, a reception that, even a year ago, would have been unthinkable. In this new climate, negotiations with the Palestinians, frozen since the latest wave of suicide bombings, are scheduled to resume soon. Likewise, the cease-fire in Lebanon may enable the resumption of talks with Syria, which Peres suspended after Assad declined to condemn the last suicide bombings by Palestinian Hamas extremists in Israel.

Peres had good reason for contentment last Friday, but those who have suffered most did not share this emotion. The Lebanese were proud of how they stood firm during the crisis, but they are skeptical that the cease-fire will last. When word of it reached Beirut, no one toasted. No horns honked in the streets, no songs were sung. It is true that the minarets of the mosques were draped in bunting, but the color was black. It is also true that the church bells pealed in the Christian villages, but they were being rung in remembrance of the dead.

--Reported by Lisa Beyer/Jerusalem, Jamil Hamad and Scott MacLeod/Gaza City and J.F.O. McAllister with Christopher

With reporting by LISA BEYER/JERUSALEM, JAMIL HAMAD AND SCOTT MACLEOD/GAZA CITY AND J.F.O. MCALLISTER WITH CHRISTOPHER