The subsequent one-on-one in the intimacy of the Oval Office was in and of itself a singular gesture. It seemed to Begin that the president was deliberately seeking to break the ice in a public display of camaraderie, in order to give him the rare opportunity to open his heart and say what was on his mind in an intimate tête-à-tête. Imagine, then, his astonishment, even bewilderment, when hardly had he opened his mouth to talk about the Israel-U.S. relationship, his hopes for peace, PLO terrorism, the Lebanon escalation, and the stalled Palestinian autonomy negotiations, when Reagan interrupted him to say: “You must forgive me, Menakem, but we have only a quarter of an hour before we have to join the others in the Cabinet Room. So I would just like to make” – he slipped his hand into his pocket and extracted a pack of three-by-five-inch cards – “a few points. The first is….”
The prime minister stared in disbelief as the American president began reciting in a mechanical tone a series of “talking points” consisting largely of standard reaffirmations of America’s known positions on Israel and the Middle East.
This was the fifth president I had met, after Johnson, Nixon, Ford, and Carter, but Reagan was the only one who resorted to this bizarre practice of using cue cards. When he paused, which he did twice, Begin assumed it was to allow him to engage, but it was not. It was simply Reagan making sure of his lines.
Could it be that he was so uninformed that he needed to read elementary issues from cards, like a third-rate actor? All the other presidents had been in total command of their material; they needed no coaching, no cue cards. Evidently, Reagan’s advisers did not want their man plunging extemporaneously into exchanges on complex issues, for fear he would get lost in their intricacies. So Begin sat and listened. It was not an easy thing for him to do. Coming from a centuries-old culture of polemicists, analysts, conversationalists, and nonconformists, he was, by nature, a passionate debater. Ronald Reagan was destined to enter history as a brilliant public communicator, the man who reinvigorated the American people after the lackluster years of Jimmy Carter, who restored his country’s self-confidence, and who initiated policies which ultimately brought the communist empire to its knees. But little of this was evident at that first meeting, which ended with the president re-pocketing his cards and saying, “And that, Menakem, is how America sees things.” Begin responded with a gracious, “I thank you, Ron, for that comprehensive overview.”
“And now let’s join the people in the Cabinet Room,” said the president, and he led the way into the adjacent chamber. The room had colonial-style, off-white paneled walls, a brass chandelier, golden drapes, and a grand oak conference table with high-backed leather chairs, behind which senior aides were standing in respectful attendance. Mr. Begin made a beeline for the secretary of defense, Caspar Weinberger, shaking him by the hand with an affected, “Ah, Mr. Weinberger, at last! How delighted I am to make your acquaintance.”
Cap Weinberger, a diminutive man with sleek black hair, reciprocated with frigid civility, his expression a blank. Secretary of State Alexander Haig, by contrast, was an admirer of Begin, and he welcomed him with the robust muscle of the soldier that he was. The principals worked their ways around the table, Reagan extending a particular welcome to the recently appointed Defense Minister Ariel Sharon, as well as to Foreign Minister Yitzhak Shamir and Interior Minister Yosef Burg, who was now in charge of the negotiating team dealing with the long-stalled Palestinian autonomy talks.
Seating himself at the table’s center, facing Begin, Reagan extracted another pack of cards, and in the practiced style of a late-night talk-show host, suavely welcomed Begin and his entourage with the briefest but most cordial of introductions, describing Israel as “a strategic asset,” and inviting the prime minister to make any comments he wished.
Begin obliged, presenting a comprehensive review of all the relevant issues, and making reference to Israel’s role as “America’s most reliable and stable ally of freedom against Soviet expansionism in the Middle East.” Then, choosing his words most cautiously, he added, “You, Mr. President, kindly referred to my country just now as a strategic asset. While that certainly has a positive ring to it, I find it, nevertheless, a little patronizing. Given the bipolar world in which we live – democracy versus communism – the cherished values we share, and our confluence of interests on so many fundamental issues, might I suggest the time has come to publicly acknowledge that Israel is not just a strategic asset, but a fully fledged strategic ally.”
Had Begin floated this thought in Jimmy Carter’s Cabinet Room, he would have been met with a steely gaze and an icy rejection. Carter had issued explicit instructions to all his aides never to use the terms “ally” or “alliance” when characterizing the U.S.-Israel relationship. And, indeed, there were some around President Reagan’s table now who were looking faintly disconcerted. Weinberger was actually frowning. But the president continued to give Begin his fullest attention, and he chuckled when his guest continued with, “You know, Mr. President, I sometimes get the impression that our relationship is a little like Heinrich Heine’s famous couplet about the bourgeois gentleman from Berlin who implores his mistress not to acknowledge him while walking in that city’s most fashionable boulevard, begging her, ‘Greet me not Unter den Linden.’ I fear there are some who would say much the same to Israel today.”
On all sides, the American faces seemed either bemused or irritated, but not the president’s. He looked at the prime minister with respect, and he affirmed, “I’d be proud to acknowledge you in public anywhere, any time.”
The way he said it gave Begin the distinct feeling that this was a decent man who was both a good listener and open to persuasion. If only he would be permitted to talk with Reagan alone whenever policy differences arose – as arise they must – surely they would find a common language with which to iron things out. But scanning the faces on the other side of the table he knew that some of those flanking the president would never allow that to happen.
Encouraged, Begin continued. “Certainly, in this alliance, Israel is very much the junior partner, but a partner we are. And I dare say” – a faint smile curled his lips and his voice sank into understatement – “over the decades Israel has done a thing or two which might have contributed to the American strategic interest in our region. And much as we deeply appreciate the military and economic aid we have received over the years, I venture to suggest it has not been an entirely one-way street – not a charity, so to speak.”
There, he had said it: He had spelt it out. No other Israeli prime minister had quite put it that way before – that Israel was not merely a receiver, but also a giver. As Begin spoke he noted that Reagan was nodding in agreement. The president looked around to invite discussion, but since everyone seemed rather taciturn, Begin seized the moment to continue: “Might I suggest, Mr. President, that consideration be given to an agreed document on this matter – on the strategic relationship between our two countries. And in employing that expression ‘strategic relationship’ I do not mean for our own defense. We’ve defended ourselves in five wars, and we’ve never asked any nation to endanger their soldiers’ lives for our sake. We shall continue to defend ourselves if war is again thrust upon us, God forbid. What I do speak about is strategic cooperation in defense of our common interests, in a region which is the target of Soviet expansionism, more aggressive than at any time since the end of the Second World War.”
Caspar Weinberger’s gray eyes were cold as they glared at Begin. He grunted some sort of a reservation. Alexander Haig, in contrast, seemed far more amenable.
President Reagan said, “What the prime minister proposes sounds like a good idea to me. Let’s look into it.”
This caused Menachem Begin to sit up abruptly, energy coursing through him. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time, the moment when the United States of America would grant the State of Israel the status of a fully fledged strategic ally. So he said, “With your permission, Mr. President, may I call on Defense
Minister Sharon to share with you and your colleagues a number of ideas which might give expression to this concept?”
“By all means,” said Reagan. “Go ahead.”
Sharon, frequently called “the Bulldozer” because of his girth, his autocratic style and his military daring, stood up, and referring to a set of maps, proceeded to give an elaborate presentation of the ways in which Israel and America might cooperate strategically. Weinberger, always extremely sensitive about America’s relationships with major Arab countries – most notably Saudi Arabia, with which he had done much business before joining the administration – reddened at Sharon’s swashbuckling style. Others on the American side exchanged uneasy glances, but Sharon plowed on imperviously, proposing what was essentially a wide-ranging mutual defense treaty. For his part, Begin, sensing the growing uneasiness around the table, suggested that the president authorize the two defense ministers to confer about finding a mutually acceptable formula.
“Good idea,” said Haig.
“So why don’t you two fellas get together and see if you can work something out in this area?” Reagan said to Weinberger and Sharon.
Weinberger seemed dumbfounded. It was clear that he was seething, stuck with a presidential request to deliberate with a man he could not abide, about an agreement he totally opposed.82
The next day, the prime minister was interviewed by Israel Radio:
Question: You’ve described your meeting with the president as highly successful, telling us you’ve reached an agreement in principle for a far-reaching memorandum of understanding on strategic cooperation. How far-reaching does it go?
Answer: I hear some people back home are saying that the whole strategic security cooperation memorandum will boil down to a bit of stockpiling and the construction of a few hospitals. That’s not so. We are talking about genuine cooperation. We haven’t signed anything yet, but we have come to an agreement in principle on the matter. The details are many and very serious. We are talking about true cooperation on land, at sea, and in the air.
At the very same hour that the prime minister was saying this on Israeli Radio, Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger was telling his senior aides, “I want no publicity on this matter. I want as little said as possible. The Israelis, of course, are going to do just the opposite. They’ll want a binding document with lots of detail and publicity. We’re not going to subscribe to anything like that at all. Whatever we’ll sign will be so general and so empty of content that we’ll be able to defend it in the Arab world. And I want the negotiations to be held right here in Washington. Is that clear? I intend to control the whole process personally myself.”83
And control it he did.
Shortly after the preliminary talks, and within a matter of weeks, the Israeli defense ministry presented the Pentagon negotiators with a twenty-nine page booklet containing a sweeping list of military cooperation proposals. This spawned further back-and-forth negotiations which, in the words of one American participant, “was like being in a washing machine where sometimes things went very smoothly and the water was warm. Then suddenly cold water would come out of nowhere and you’d be turned the other way and get hit across the head with some unexpected action or development. It was a funny time: On the one hand, things were done at the president’s direction that were unprecedented, but then they would be undone by his secretary of defense.”84
Soon enough, Sharon became so disenchanted he wanted to wash his hands of the whole concept, but Begin insisted he persist. He sought a symbol of the alliance, if nothing more. What he got in the end was a brief, seven-hundred-word memorandum of understanding, that contained little that was new or substantive. It was signed in November, 1981, by Sharon and Weinberger without fanfare, at an informal dinner at the National Geographic Society in Washington. In what was a calculated resolve to play down the whole exercise, no press was invited, and the Pentagon did not even give its customary briefing to the media afterward. Nowhere are there photographs of Weinberger signing the agreement with Sharon.
Chapter 49
Death of a President
Whatever misgivings Begin might have had regarding the watered-down version of the strategic cooperation agreement were swept aside by the devastating news which reached him at his home on the afternoon of 6 October 1981. His peace partner, President Anwar Sadat, was dead, mowed down at a Cairo military parade by Muslim fanatics.
“Are you sure he’s dead?” asked a shocked Begin, with a quick intake of breath. “Is it absolutely confirmed?” He was talking to General Poran, who had conveyed the news to him on the phone. I was sitting there rigid, my pen frozen mid-air, primed to continue the dictation for which the prime minister had summoned me to his residence.
Freuka’s answer was evidently not unequivocal, for Begin said, “I need full and final confirmation.” Then, to me, “Switch on the radio. See what the foreign stations are reporting.”
I began fiddling with the receiver on his desk, seeking a shortwave band. The Voice of America was saying that Sadat had been wounded, but was not in danger. Radio Monte Carlo was saying that two of Sadat’s bodyguards had been killed, but that he had been led away untouched. The BBC World Service, however, announced unambiguously that the president of Egypt had been assassinated.
Begin’s expression was as pained as though he himself had taken a bullet. “If the BBC announces it so categorically, it has to be true,” he said. And then, “Please connect me back to Freuka.”
“Freuka,” he said, in a commanding tone, “contact the chief of staff at once. We must be on full alert for any contingency. Who knows what’s going on in Cairo. It may be a coup.”
His military secretary evidently assured him that all precautions were well in hand, because Begin began to nod his head up and down, saying, “Good. Good. Good.”
And then, back to me, “I need to speak to Yechiel.”
Yechiel informed him that our ambassador to Cairo, Moshe Sasson, had finally been able to get through on the clogged Egyptian telephone lines, to report that he had witnessed the shooting, and that yes, Sadat was indeed dead.
“Tell him,” instructed Begin, “that he should tell the Egyptians that I wish to attend the funeral at the head of an official Israeli delegation.”
This thought seemed to have touched a nerve, as if the consequences of the catastrophe had only just now truly sunk in, for his features went suddenly taut and his face grayer as he heaved a tormented sigh, leaned heavily back in his chair, and murmured, “God knows what this will do to the peace treaty. In a few months we’re supposed to complete our final withdrawal in Sinai, and dismantle our settlements there.”
“Do you want to issue a statement of condolence?” I asked warily, for fear of upsetting him further.
“Yes, yes, of course,” he answered, and he dictated:
President Sadat was murdered by the enemies of peace. His decision to come to Jerusalem and the reception accorded him by the people, the Knesset and the government of Israel will be remembered as one of the great events of our time…. Unforgettable is the hour in which he, the President of Egypt and I, the Prime Minister of Israel, signed a treaty of peace between our two countries. During our many meetings a personal friendship was established between us. I have therefore lost not only a partner to peace, but also a friend…. We hope the peace process will continue, as we know Sadat would have wished.85
But the question on everybody’s lips was, would the peace process indeed hold?
Menachem Begin found out when, the following Friday, he flew to Cairo with three of his senior ministers to attend the state funeral, much to the discomfort of the Egyptian authorities, who were saddled with a twofold predicament: the unprecedented security the visit necessitated, and the unprecedented protocol headache it posed because of the attendance of numerous Arab enemies of the Jewish State. Since the funeral took place on Saturday – Shabbat – the security headache was further compounded when the Israelis refused to ride in the armored vehicl
e meant to carry them from their accommodation to the funeral procession, insisting instead on walking. This was staggeringly courageous, and a significant physical effort on their part, and an unmitigated nightmare for the Egyptians.
The Israeli delegation to President Sadat’s Cairo funeral, led by Prime Minister Begin, and including Ministers Burg, Sharon & Shamir, honor Shabbat obligations by walking a great distance to join the funeral cortege, Shabbat, 10 October 1981
Photograph credit: Chanania Herman & Israel Government Press Office
Nevertheless, all passed off without mishap. Upon returning home on the Saturday night, a fatigued prime minister spoke to the waiting press. He told them that he and his colleagues had felt it vital to attend the funeral as a gesture of respect and tribute to his peace partner, and to personally express condolences to Mrs. Jehan Sadat and her family. “Those who came to console her,” he said, “were themselves consoled by her. To me and my colleagues she said, ‘I was always afraid that I would lose him. But God is stronger than those who killed him, and he gave his life for peace, and the peace shall continue.’”
“Mr. Prime Minister,” asked a journalist, “will the peace process indeed continue?”
Unhesitatingly, the prime minister answered, “I am convinced it will. I had a long private talk with President-designate Mubarak, and that is what we mainly talked about. There is no doubt in the minds of both of us that this is going to be a fact.”
The Prime Ministers: An Intimate Narrative of Israeli Leadership Page 62
