No Higher Honor: A Memoir of My Years in Washington

by Condoleezza Rice

  I returned to the chamber, scribbled a note, and asked Don to pass it to the President, who was seated directly in front of him. “Mr. President,” the note said, “Iraq is sovereign. Letter was passed from Bremer at 10:26 A.M. Iraq time.”

  I saw the President turn to the man seated next to him, simply by virtue of alphabetical order. George W. Bush and Tony Blair shook hands and acknowledged one step forward in the historic and controversial course on which they had embarked together. President Bush sent the note back to me with a line written across it: “Let freedom reign!”

  When I saw the note in the newspaper the next day, the first thing that came to mind was how terrible my penmanship had become. My mother was an English teacher who had always insisted on writing in, as she called it, “a beautiful hand.” That was admittedly an odd thought at such a momentous time.

  In any case, there wasn’t much celebration. The work ahead was getting harder and more complicated, and everyone knew it. The Iraqis had come a long way from the days of the Iraqi National Congress in exiled opposition to the Governing Council in the aftermath of the invasion and now to a sovereign interim government that would help pave the way to the country’s first free elections. But Steve Hadley had it right when, sitting in my office a few days after the return of sovereignty in Iraq, he said, “The Iraqis still have to liberate themselves. We’ve overthrown Saddam Hussein, but this won’t work until the Iraqis own their freedom.” That would take some time.

  19

  ANOTHER STEP TOWARD A PALESTINIAN STATE

  ARIEL SHARON HAD TAKEN advantage of the defeat of Saddam Hussein and his trust in George W. Bush to make significant shifts in long-held Likud positions in Israel. In accepting the Road Map for Peace in the Middle East and speaking forcefully about the need to make “painful concessions” in 2003, the Israeli prime minister had put himself firmly on the side of a two-state solution. Still, when Dubi Weisglass, Sharon’s closest advisor, came to see me at the White House and said that the prime minister was considering a unilateral withdrawal from Gaza, I was stunned.

  What Sharon had in mind showed not only how far he’d come toward peace but also his shrewd political leadership. Weisglass said that the prime minister saw an opportunity to split Israeli public opinion on the contentious issue of settlements, thus isolating the minority opposed to a two-state solution. The centerpiece of Sharon’s gambit would be a complete Israeli withdrawal from Gaza, settlers and all. The Palestinians would then have a real chance to govern themselves.

  As was the case in any conversation with the Israelis, however, there was a “but.” To make this advance toward peace, Dubi said, Sharon needed to assure the public that a few of the most established settlements in the West Bank would remain intact in any future peace agreement. Clearly, to make way for a Palestinian state, settlers would have to be uprooted from the West Bank and Gaza. There was little sympathy for those occupying the scattered encampments deep in the West Bank and even less for those in Gaza. The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) no longer wanted to defend those isolated settlements, and Gaza, with its large, angry, and poor Palestinian population, had no future in a Jewish democratic state. But some West Bank settlements, such as Ariel, Ma’al Adumim, Modi’in Illit, and Beitar Illit, were now established Israeli cities. Weisglass said that the prime minister needed to signal that those big population blocks, about 80,000 settlers in all, would be included in Israel when the Palestinian state was created.

  The prime minister had sent Dubi to see if President Bush would affirm this principle, in a word legitimizing certain settlements so that the Israelis could begin their withdrawal. Steve Hadley and I listened intently. There was a breakthrough in there somewhere, but it was fraught with dangers for U.S. policy in the Middle East. First, the President couldn’t legitimize specific settlements. Second, a unilateral withdrawal from Gaza without negotiation or at least coordination with the Palestinians might signal that the Israelis were prepared to determine the status quo on their own. In other words, even a good outcome, with Israelis leaving disputed territory, might send the wrong message. Third, we were concerned that a withdrawal from Gaza might be perceived as the end of the process, not the beginning: Gaza first was one thing; only Gaza was not acceptable. We would insist that the Gaza withdrawal be accompanied by the removal of at least some settlements in the West Bank. Eventually, the four northernmost settlements were evacuated.

  Over the next month, we came to terms with the Israelis on how to move forward. Dubi and I led the negotiations. Steve Hadley and Elliott Abrams were dispatched to Israel for long sessions with the prime minister to better understand how the process could limit settlement growth and spur movement toward a Palestinian state. The outcome was a letter from President Bush to Prime Minister Sharon that acknowledged the need to accommodate “new realities on the ground,” including “already existing major Israeli population centers” in the West Bank, at the time of a negotiated settlement to the conflict.

  The letter also addressed indirectly the “right of return,” stating that under any realistic solution to the issue, Palestinian refugees would be expected to live in a new homeland, the State of Palestine. The great majority of them would not “return” to their ancestral lands in Israel. That issue had been included in the letter due, in large part, to my interaction with Tzipi Livni, whom I’d met during my first trip to Israel in 2000. She was minister for immigrant absorption when she came to see me in March 2004. We talked for a long time about her personal story as a child of Israeli freedom fighters. She told me that she’d come to the conclusion that Israelis could no longer govern Palestinians and concessions were required. That would mean that there could be no “greater Israel,” she conceded. Then she spoke movingly of how hard it was for her to say it since her father’s headstone was engraved with a map of Israel incorporating all of Judea and Samaria. Ending the conflict between Arabs and Israelis was her mission in Israeli politics.

  But she was worried that even after the establishment of the Palestinian state, there would be demands that Israel accept a large number of Palestinian refugees to fulfill the Arab insistence on “right of return,” as embodied in UN General Assembly Resolution 194. Israel did not accept the legitimacy of the resolution, but the rest of the world did. That could change the nature of the State of Israel, which had been founded as a state for the Jews.

  I must admit that though I understood the argument intellectually, it struck me as a harsh defense of the ethnic purity of the Israeli state when Tzipi said it. It was one of those conversations that shocked my sensibilities as an American. After all, the very concept of “American” rejects ethnic or religious definitions of citizenship. Moreover, there were Arab citizens of Israel. Where did they fit in?

  I took a deep breath and tried to understand, and slowly I came to see what she meant. Most of us thought of the creation of Israel in the context of the horrors of World War II and the Holocaust. But for most Israelis, their country’s birth had instead been the fulfillment of a long historical and religious journey to reestablish “the Jewish state.” The right of return for Palestinians was inconsistent with the conclusion of that thousands-year-old process. Despite the dissonance that it stirred in me, I suggested that the President include the line that made clear that Palestinian refugees would be expected to live in Palestine. That would allow the democratic state of Israel to be “Jewish.”

  On April 14 Ariel Sharon came to the White House and stood with the President on the long red carpet of the Cross Hall, the stately corridor that leads to the East Room. The night before, I met with the prime minister for more than three hours to go over the letter and what it meant. I was especially concerned that the Israelis not say that the United States was legitimizing settlement activity. There had been some indirect references to this already in the press, and we suspected that the Israelis had been busy “backgrounding” the story that way. The prime minister said that he understood and would not betray his friend.

 
There were audible gasps from the press as the President read from the text, which marked a major departure in U.S. policy toward the Middle East. The line that said that all of the issues had to be “mutually agreed” was drowned out in the press by the focus on how we “legitimized” settlements and “rejected” the right of return.

  After the press conference, I got into the car and headed to the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, where I was scheduled to give a speech. I checked in with Bill Burns, the assistant secretary for Near Eastern affairs, at the State Department. In his preternaturally calm way, Bill relayed the turbulence that was breaking out in the Middle East in response to what had been said, just as he’d done two years earlier after the President had given his Rose Garden speech calling for Palestinian democracy and the removal of Arafat. By the time I finished at the Naval Academy and returned to the White House, there were messages from the Jordanians, Saudis, and Egyptians waiting for me. The Jordanians, in particular, argued that the President would need to give assurances to the Arabs just as he had to the Israelis.

  We had a way of breaking old taboos in the agreed script concerning the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. But for all the commitment to the “peace process” over the years, it had failed to create a Palestinian state or provide decent leadership for the Palestinian people. There was still a lot to be done, but there was movement forward. The Israelis were getting ready to withdraw from Gaza, and the Palestinians would have their chance to show that they could govern themselves.

  The letter to Sharon also launched a process to attack the age-old problem of Israeli settlement expansion. Dubi had suggested that we simply name the settlements that would be grandfathered in a final-status agreement. That would require finally understanding what the Israelis meant by the slippery term “natural growth.” It seemed logical that until a peace agreement was signed, there would need to be limits on the expansion of those “cities.” Steve and Elliott sought a detailed understanding of the ever-shifting Israeli arguments about building within municipal lines, within built-up areas, building horizontally, vertically, and on and on. We could never get an agreed definition for a settlement freeze based on those parameters.

  We did, however, agree informally with the Israelis that they would take certain steps to limit settlement growth. First, they would end all special government subsidies to settlers. Second, there would be no new settlements, although in reality the expansion within settlements was more often the problem. Third, they would expropriate no more land for settlement construction. And fourth, they would pass what I came to call the “Google Earth test”: there would be no building outward. Though the growth of existing settlements continued to be a bone of contention between us for the next five years, there were no new settlement blocks built from 2004 to 2009, and the settler population grew at a lower annual rate than at any other time since the 1967 war. There was some confirmation that what we had done mattered when the Sharon government was accused of turning its back on settlers to appease George W. Bush.

  20

  FOUR MORE YEARS

  AS THE SUMMER APPROACHED, the attention of the White House turned to the reelection campaign and I reminded myself to stay focused on the tasks of national security. Steve and I decided that one of us would always travel with the President on the campaign trail; it was the first presidential election since 9/11, and the President needed senior national security support at all times. Once in a while Bob Blackwill, who was experienced and had been a Vulcan in 2000, could spell us. On the trail we could also support the President as he faced a barrage of questions about the war, terrorism, and the other security controversies day after day.

  Amid the inevitable distractions of the campaign, I gave a lot of thought to how to keep the President’s preferences central to what the agencies were doing operationally. It crossed my mind that there might be more than a few career people in the agencies hoping to see George Bush retire to Texas. Maybe it was an unfair thought, but it was there, and I wanted to be sure that no one gave in to the temptation to treat the President, who was facing a tough campaign, as a lame duck.

  Because national security was at the crux of so much of the debate, I decided to make a series of speeches around the country to explain what we were doing. It wasn’t lost on me that this might be seen as “campaigning” and in contravention of the long-standing tradition by which the national security team stays out of politics. I did indeed speak in a number of battleground states. But I spoke in Texas and Kentucky too, hardly in play in electoral politics. I was careful to avoid political messages in my speeches, but I did take on the President’s critics. Could anyone have been surprised that I wanted George W. Bush reelected? I thought that it would help the cause if I explained the policies outside Washington’s echo chamber. Still, there was a good deal of tongue wagging about what I was doing and even an investigation by the Office of Special Counsel. It found nothing to suggest that I’d crossed the line.

  How did we bear up amid all the contentiousness? Clearly it is miserable to be the incumbent, constantly defending every aspect of your record and answering charges of incompetence or, worse, venality. When the record included September 11, Afghanistan, and Iraq, the task was obviously formidable. I felt each morning as if we were shackled in medieval stocks in a public square, with people throwing fruit at us. I told my cousin that there were days when I felt like Wile E. Coyote in the Road Runner cartoons. The unfortunate coyote would catch on to a branch to keep from falling over the cliff and then hang on, his feet in constant motion above the pit below as the road runner chopped away at the branch.

  Each morning seemed to bring some new charge or leaked intelligence. In the last week of the campaign, a story appeared that the insurgency was getting many of its weapons from unguarded depots that the military could not account for. The image of our troops being attacked by weapons stolen from stockpiles that were supposed to be under our control became a cause célèbre.

  The story just wouldn’t go away, every news cycle bringing fresh reports about the connection between the insurgency and unguarded weapons depots. After many entreaties from the White House, the Pentagon finally decided to call a press conference and refute the stories as best it could, since frankly the evidence was pretty compelling. The apparent thievery that was taking place was another consequence of the manpower shortage we were experiencing.

  I was on the road with the President when the press conference took place. Since I never wanted to be seen at a rally, I usually stayed on board Air Force One if the stop was short or perhaps hung back in the staff holding room at the event. An ingenious press person at Defense had found a young army captain who’d led the team that secured many of the weapons depots. He was perfect: clean-cut, earnest, and patriotic. Larry Di Rita, the Pentagon spokesman, introduced him but did so with a long, confused windup that undercut the crisp message of competence that was intended. I sat there with the press people yelling at the TV, “Larry, get off the stage!” Finally he did, but the moment had passed and the captain’s message was lost on the press corps.

  That story, though, was nothing compared to the bombshell that dropped four days before the election. We were in Ohio when we got word that Osama bin Laden had released a tape threatening the United States. It must have been meant to undermine confidence in George W. Bush and contribute to his defeat. But bin Laden didn’t understand American politics. I know that John Kerry’s people thought it helped the President by reminding the American people of the man who had stood on the rubble of the World Trade Center and rallied them in defense of the country. Our press people worried, but I think the Kerry camp’s assessment was more likely right. In the end, it may never be clear which way the tape moved the needle or if it mattered at all.

  THE DAY BEFORE the election, we flew to Dallas for a huge rally and then spent the night at the ranch. Karen and I shared the guesthouse, and I tossed and turned as she spent the bulk of the night on the telephone. Before heading back to Washington
the next morning, the President wanted to make one final appearance in Ohio to show his appreciation for all the campaign volunteers there. On Air Force One after the event, I followed the election coverage on television and on my favorite website, Realclearpolitics. Just as we were about to land, Karl received news on his BlackBerry that was clearly unwelcome. His face was ashen as he began to read off the early exit polls: down in Ohio; down in Michigan; up one in Alabama. Up one in Alabama? I thought. This is going to be a landslide defeat!

  The President and Laura came into the staff cabin as Karl continued the devastating readout. The President said very quietly, “Too bad.” Overcome with sadness, I rushed out of the cabin and into the nearby restroom. I didn’t know what to say to the President. I didn’t know what to say to my friend.

  Air Force One landed at Andrews Air Force Base, and we then disembarked and climbed aboard Marine One to take us to the White House. Karl noted that exit polls are sometimes wildly wrong and suggested that everyone just suspend judgment until the information was better. It was hard to do.

  As I was sitting in my office, again glued to Realclearpolitics, Sean McCormack poked his head in the door. “You know,” he said, “something is wrong with these data. For one thing, the percentage of women in the sample is almost twice what it should be.” It was a ray of hope, anyway.

  I decided to go home. I tried to sleep, having failed to do so the night before, but couldn’t. So I took a shower and returned to the White House, where we would view the election returns. A few minutes after I arrived, President George H. W. Bush stopped by my office. “It’s not looking too good,” he said.