The commission members sitting in the dilapidated Presidential Palace said all the right things about elections and governance, but there was a surreal character to the whole encounter. Despite all of Haiti’s best efforts, the country has been locked in a cycle of intractable poverty, conflict, and natural disasters. No matter how hard they, and the international community, try to transform the country, instability plagues the people of Haiti. I went back to Washington determined to focus my personal attention on the country and began holding periodic teleconferences with the members of the contact group for Haiti.
A contact group is a diplomatic device to unite key countries to handle a crisis or to support a nation in crisis such as Haiti. The group comprised Brazil, which was commanding the UN peacekeeping force; Canada, which was responsible for training the police; the United States; France; the UN Special Representative for Haiti; and the Organization of American States (OAS). We worked together seamlessly, and Haiti was finally able to hold its first presidential elections since Jean-Bertrand Aristide was ousted from office two years before. While there was some balloting contestation and a few protests, the elections were marked by high turnout and much lower violence than had been expected. Three months later René Préval was sworn into office. It was one of those small diplomatic successes that rarely grabs headlines but would have garnered much attention had it failed. Unfortunately, the country was unable to capitalize on that rare moment of success. Haiti remains unstable and poor, having experienced repeated setbacks, most recently in the devastating earthquake of 2010.
But as troubled as Haiti was (and is), working in the rest of the Americas, through the OAS, was both challenging and rewarding. In June, the OAS met for the first time in the United States in thirty-one years, and I noted that of the twenty-three member states in 1974, ten had been military dictatorships. By contrast, the majority of the Latin American countries in the OAS now firmly believe that political and economic liberty is the only road to success. Furthermore, the central divide in the region was not between “Left” and “Right” but between freedom and tyranny.
Early on, I’d backed the election of José Miguel Insulza, a Chilean diplomat, to the post of secretary-general of the OAS. The United States had earlier refused to support Insulza because he was thought to be a bit too leftist. Instead, Washington had encouraged a Mexican, Luis Ernesto Derbez, to challenge Insulza. But the Chilean had the backing of most of the region, and our continuing to oppose him would have been an embarrassment for our friends in Santiago, particularly President Ricardo Lagos, who’d championed his candidacy.
At the April meeting of the Community of Democracies in Santiago, Chile, I changed our position and negotiated a solution, with the unhappy Derbez withdrawing and Insulza being elected by acclamation. I asked my good friend the capable and strong foreign minister of Colombia, Carolina Barco, to make the announcement.
I tell this story because it illustrates several perennials of diplomacy relating to events offstage that take enormous effort and are rarely reported. First, the lobbying for international diplomatic positions is intense, with countries putting forth candidates who then organize sophisticated campaigns. The United States has to be careful to throw its weight at the right time: too soon, and the person is branded as “Washington’s guy”; too late, and the logrolling might bring someone to office that is unacceptable. Second, other countries appreciate a U.S. approach to those elections that isn’t heavy-handed: the decision to switch to Insulza would buy goodwill for me as the incoming secretary. Third, the gratitude doesn’t last very long. Though I liked José Miguel personally and we maintained good relations, he was extremely cautious about his left flank. That made it difficult to mobilize the OAS on troublesome places such as Venezuela and Cuba. The principles of the OAS Democratic Charter were too often forgotten amid a mushy consensus and reflexive silence about dictators in the region. But the organization was at least neutral rather than supportive of the region’s bad boys, and on issues such as Haiti it played a very useful role.
By the way, the OAS General Assembly in Fort Lauderdale also led to an embarrassing moment as secretary. As the U.S. secretary of state, I was the chair of the event, but due to multiple crises in Washington I had to leave the meeting early. At lunch I thanked the delegates for their attendance and said that I was sorry to leave but I had to “return to the United States.” The laughter in the room confused me until Carolina told me what I’d said. When you travel as much as I did, sometimes you forget where you are.
28
BRINGING BACK THE ALL-NIGHTER
A SHORT TIME LATER I traveled to Central Asia, where I secured long-term rights to an air base in Kyrgyzstan. The negotiations were tense, with Kyrgyz President Kurmanbek Bakiyev trying to put off the decision yet again. I sat in his office while he negotiated with his team. When he returned to me, he said he needed more time on the details. Since we had a big foreign assistance package—dressed up as more money for basing rights—on the table, I told him there was no more time. It was now or not at all. It was a bit of brinksmanship because we needed the base. But it worked, and we announced the agreement before I left.
Unfortunately, my visits to Central Asia were always briefer than warranted by the importance of the region. I had recognized the geographic significance of these countries at the time of the invasion of Afghanistan. They were key, too, because of their strategic location in terms of energy resources and their vast transportation networks for oil and natural gas. Kazakhstan, in particular, was an energy-producing giant—a place that I had first visited as a Chevron director in the early 1990s. Its president, Nursultan Nazarbayev, was one of the region’s strongmen but a modernizer who we hoped might take an interest in regional economic development. Leading a state that bordered Russia and China, Nazarbayev was cautious but desired a relationship with us to help him maintain “balanced independence,” as he once told me. The region deserved more attention than I could give it but we enjoyed relatively good relations with its leaders, with the exception of Uzbekistan’s Islam Karimov.
AFTER THAT BRIEF TRIP to Central Asia, I stopped in Paris and Moscow before heading to London. When I landed in the British capital, I called home to get a briefing on the polling concerning the October 15 ballot measure on the Constitution of Iraq. Sunni Arab opponents had been working to rally enough voters to defeat the referendum, knowing that the passage of the document in majority Shia and Kurdish territories and its failure in predominantly Sunni areas would have been disastrous. Fortunately, as I went out to Chequers to meet Tony Blair the next day, word came that the Constitution had been adopted. More than 78 percent of Iraqi voters had approved the referendum, sending a firm signal about those citizens’ yearning for democratic governance as enshrined in their newly adopted charter. Of the more than 21 percent that opposed the referendum, however, most were Sunni Arabs; in the predominantly Sunni Al Anbar province, for example, about 96 percent of voters rejected it. Though we were both relieved, the British prime minister and I sat over lunch on a peaceful and lovely fall day and reflected on what the vote meant for the work ahead: the Sunnis weren’t yet fully on board, and that portended trouble.
In fact, although the Freedom Agenda had progressed significantly, the end of the year brought several reminders of the treacherous road ahead. The first UN report on the assassination of former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri pointed to the involvement of high-ranking Syrian and Lebanese security officials. Though the current Lebanese government of Fouad Siniora had responded bravely, promising to cooperate with the investigation and punish the perpetrators, the screams of indignation and veiled threats by Hezbollah reminded us all that the moderate March 14 political alliance was not fully in control of the country.
Then an awful event in Jordan reminded us that the war on terror was still very much with us. On November 9, 2005, suicide bombers struck three hotels in Amman in what appeared to be coordinated attacks, hitting the Grand Hyatt, the Radisson SAS H
otel, and the Days Inn. While targeting American hotel franchises might have been intended as a message to us, the victims, as they often are, were Muslims. In fact, according to a report from the Combating Terrorism Center at West Point, the vast majority of al Qaeda’s victims are Muslims: from 2006 to 2008, a striking 98 percent of them were inhabitants of countries with Muslim majorities.
A wedding reception with several hundred guests had just begun at the Radisson when two suicide bombers entered the building and one detonated his vest in the ballroom. His wife’s vest failed to explode, and she was later detained by the Jordanian police forces. Another blast had hit the lobby of the Grand Hyatt, and a third hit the Days Inn. The attacks, which were suspected of being coordinated by Abu Musab al-Zarqawi in Iraq (given his resentment of the Jordanian monarchy), killed more than fifty-seven people and left more than a hundred wounded.
I’D ALREADY PLANNED to return to the Middle East one more time before the end of the year. The withdrawal from Gaza was complete, but another major issue had arisen between the Israelis and Palestinians. Since the President’s 2002 Rose Garden speech, we’d argued that the composition of the Palestinian state would be as important as its borders. It needed to be democratic, decent, and capable of delivering for its people. In Salam Fayyad, now the prime minister of the Palestinian Authority, we’d found a leader who believed the same. Salam would often say that he intended to build the state even under occupation. Helping him do so, we believed, would accelerate progress toward an end to the conflict. The Israelis would finally have to admit that they had a partner for peace.
To support this goal, the President exercised a congressionally authorized waiver to channel $50 million in direct assistance to the Palestinian Authority. Though the United States has offered assistance to the PA since the Oslo Accords were signed in 1993, in 2005 we significantly increased economic aid through supplemental appropriations and reprogramming. Convincing congressional appropriators and Israel’s friends on the Hill that it was safe to do so took some effort. Our support extended to building security forces appropriate for a democratic state—in other words, unraveling the gangs that had served Arafat in the name of security and professionalizing the forces. Within two years we would offer assistance in the form of direct budgetary support to the Palestinian Authority. This would be a breakthrough and a signal of trust since it allowed the Palestinians to spend the money as they saw fit rather than tying it to specific programs.
With the Israeli withdrawal having set a tone of conciliation, it seemed time to press for a breakthrough. The opportunity came in the form of an agreement between the parties to reopen the border crossing at Rafah between Egypt and Gaza. With no Israeli presence, there was justifiable concern about terrorism in what was already proving to be ungovernable territory in Gaza. Yet the crossing was critical for the Palestinians to be able to move their goods.
I was not going to leave Jerusalem without an agreement on movement and access for Palestinians and their goods. In 1979 Israel and Egypt had signed a peace treaty that included the establishment of a buffer zone between Egypt and Gaza, a strip of land known as the Philadelphi Corridor. Rafah, the only checkpoint not located on the Israeli border, was a high-traffic smuggling route for illicit goods and weapons. Security at the Rafah crossing was handled jointly by Israel and Egypt, though the Israelis worried that the Egyptians could not or would not confront the smuggling. It was a difficult dilemma: the crossings had to be effective enough for people to be able to get perishable goods across the border before they spoiled, for instance, but thorough enough to keep weapons out. After Israel’s withdrawal from Gaza, new rules were needed to govern the crossing, which had been closed for two months. We had to get a movement and access deal accomplished so that the Rafah crossing could be securely opened.
David Welch went ahead of me to begin the negotiations, but when I arrived at the airport, little progress had been made. On the way to Ramallah I called Defense Minister Shaul Mofaz and Dubi Weisglass. “We’re going to get this done,” I said. “Send somebody to meet with David who can speak for the prime minister.” I then visited President Abbas and asked who would represent him. He said that Mohammed Dahlan, the chief of security, was already in Jerusalem.
After my meeting with Abbas, I called David from the car to see how it was going. “Not well,” he said. When I got to the David Citadel Hotel, I went immediately to the room where the negotiations were being held. The participants were clearly stuck on a number of points. I’d promised to go to Jordan to lay a wreath at the Radisson and pay respects to the king after the bombing. “When I get back, I want this solved,” I told David.
In Amman I found it hard to keep my mind on my ceremonial duties. Indeed, the scene at the hotel was horrific, with bits of glass and spots of blood still on the banquet room floor. I went before the cameras to offer condolences to the Jordanian people and signal defiance in the face of continued terrorism. Afterward, I visited briefly with King Abdullah, who was more than happy to cut our meeting short so that I could return to the negotiations.
It was after one in the morning when I arrived back at the David Citadel. The rest of the night I shuttled from room to room; the Palestinians and Israelis were now negotiating in separate sessions with David and Elliott Abrams, the NSC’s Middle East expert. The talks almost broke down several times, with Mohammed Dahlan yelling at me, “If I sign this, I’ll be a dead man!” when I suggested that the PA would have to hand over the names of suspected terrorists for a watch list to facilitate screening at the crossings. At about four, I decided that everyone was tired. “Go to bed,” I told the negotiators, “and we’ll start again at seven.” David came over and whispered that if the Palestinians went home they’d never get back through the Israeli checkpoints so the meeting could resume in three hours. “Then get rooms for them here,” I said. Then I went to bed.
The next morning we started again. We almost had agreement, but some issues had not been resolved. I called Defense Minister Mofaz and asked him to come over. The Israelis, like most people in the Middle East, don’t relish doing business in the morning. But he did come, and the agreement was settled.
Javier Solana, the European Union’s high representative for foreign affairs (essentially its foreign minister), and Jim Wolfensohn were in Jerusalem, and I asked them to come over and join me for the press conference. Making the agreement stick would require a lot of international support. They needed to share in this rare moment of achievement.
At about ten I went downstairs to face the press. “After difficult negotiations I’m happy to report that we have an agreement on movement and access.” There was an audible gasp of approval in the room. Somehow my eye caught that of Robin Wright, a veteran Middle East reporter who’d been a critic of the administration on just about everything. She knows this is an important moment, I thought. Then I went on to describe the agreement.
There wasn’t much time. I called Dubi and President Abbas to thank them and congratulate them, as well as Ahmed Aboul Gheit, the Egyptian foreign minister. Then I boarded the plane to meet President Bush at the APEC summit in South Korea. Deputy Executive Secretary Carol Perez had worked her travel magic again. Somehow I’d managed to get from Israel to Jordan back to Israel and then on to South Korea in about thirty-six hours. I was a day late, but it had been worth the time. In all the excitement I’d completely forgotten that it was my fifty-first birthday. When I boarded the plane, I received a cake and a card from the press. “Thanks for bringing back the all-nighter,” one comment said. The press loved the high drama and pure adrenaline of the eleventh-hour agreement. So did I.
By the time my flight touched down in South Korea, word of the agreement had spread. I didn’t have time to brief the President, who was walking into his meetings with the Malaysian and then Indonesian presidents, both from countries with large Muslim populations. “Thank you so much for what you’ve achieved for Palestine,” they said to the President. Teasing me a little after the m
eeting, the President asked, “What did I do for Palestine, and what did you agree to?” Steve Hadley had, of course, briefed him, but he wanted to know the full story. He laughed as I related the details of the all-night session. “They’re going to expect this all the time,” he said, referring to the raised hopes in the Middle East. “Then we’ll just have to get it done,” I said.
It was a good end to an incredible first year as secretary of state. I felt exhilarated as I headed for Christmas break. The team at State was functioning well, and in both perception and reality, we were emphasizing the primacy of diplomacy in U.S. foreign policy. I loved the freedom to speak authoritatively for the United States of America. My relationship with the President was different from before but very good indeed. And the Freedom Agenda seemed to be taking hold across the Middle East. I couldn’t wait for 2006 to begin.
29
CAN ANYTHING ELSE GO WRONG?
THE NEXT YEAR, though, would turn out to be miserable—an almost 180-degree turn from the positive direction of the year before. After those many months of setbacks, the President called on me at the first Cabinet meeting of 2007 to give a brief report on the foreign affairs situation. “Well, Mr. President,” I said, “the forces of repression struck back last year. It was a bad year for the forward march of freedom. But we’ll bend history’s arc back toward justice.” It may have been too poetic a response, but it seemed as though we all needed a little bucking up. There were so many nights in 2006 when I remember arriving home at the Watergate after a long, long day and wondering, Can anything else go wrong? After a while I stopped asking because the answer seemed always to be, Yes, it can and it has.
No Higher Honor: A Memoir of My Years in Washington Page 49
