The Prime Ministers: An Intimate Narrative of Israeli Leadership (37 page)

Then, to the whole House:

“What did we see at Entebbe? We saw an extremist left-wing German Nazi point a finger at the hostages: who shall go to the left and who shall go to the right
–
non-Jews one way, Jews the other. And we asked ourselves,
Ribono shel olam
–
God Almighty
–
hardly thirty years after the Auschwitz crematoria, that cemetery without end, with the image of Dr. Mengele still fresh in our minds, standing there among the rows of Jews
–
of the men and of the women, of the children and of the babies
–
pointing his finger, ‘To the right: to death; to the left: to life.’ And there was no one to save them.

“Well, now there is. Now we declare for all to hear: Never again! Our generation has taken a solemn oath consecrated in the blood of our slain mothers, our butchered fathers, our asphyxiated babes, and our fallen brave – never again will the blood of the Jew be shed with impunity. Never again will Jewish honor be easy prey.

Photograph credit: Moshe Milner & Israel Government Press Office

Rescued Entebbe hostages waving to the crowd upon landing at Ben Gurion Airport, 4 July 1976

“We are no empire. We are but a small nation…but after all that has befallen our nation throughout all the generations
–
and not least the generation of the Holocaust
–
we declare that if there be anyone anywhere who is persecuted, or humiliated, or threatened, or abducted, or is in any way endangered simply because he or she is a Jew, then let the whole world know that we, Israel, the Jewish State, shall marshal all our strength to come to their aid and bring them to the safe haven of our homeland. This is the message of Entebbe.”
51

A week later, a shy and awkward Yitzhak Rabin hosted an exuberant American Jewish solidarity mission in the garden of his official Jerusalem residence. The one-hundred-odd guests, gripped still with a Fourth-of-July-like euphoria, stood in line to pump the prime minister’s hand, slap him on the back, and announce uncommonly generous pledges for the cause of Israel.

A handsome rabbi, tall, trim, and tanned, strode up to the microphone in cowboy boots, planted a large multi-colored skull cap on his head, opened up a Bible, and delivered an invocation in a resonant baritone, telling the tale of an earlier rescue mission when Jew saved Jew. He was reading from Genesis, chapter fourteen, when Abraham came to the rescue of his nephew, Lot, who was in the hands of enemy kings. As the rabbi continued his description of the rescue, more and more men put their hands into their pockets to place skullcaps on their heads, out of respect for the biblical text. Rabin, seeing what was going on, stuck a handkerchief on his, but it was so starched it stuck up like an alabaster tripod. And when, in peroration, the rabbi stretched out his arms dramatically and began conferring the priestly blessing upon Rabin, he smiled and blushed bashfully, and deciding he’d had enough, quickly thanked everybody for coming and beat a quick retreat, leaving me behind to wind up the proceedings.

At the evening’s end, many of the visitors were moved to register their feelings of solidarity and kinship in the prime minister’s official guest book, located in the hallway. Leafing through it after they had gone I was struck by the warmth and spontaneity of their sentiments. Admittedly, not all were elegantly phrased. In fact, some were prize nuggets. I list them here below, names and addresses omitted for propriety’s sake:

“Mr. Rabin, I think you’re doing a swell job, but next time it would be nice if you’d put on a proper yarmulke.”

“Yitzhak
–
because of what our boys did at Entebbe I upped my pledge to a couple of grand. I’ll up it again if you rub out Arafat.”

“You are proof, Mr. Prime Minister, that to be a great leader you have to have a great war. God bless you for it.”

“Our President back in Washington has been fool enough to swallow all the Arab propaganda. We Jews rely on you for more Entebbes. Give
’
em hell.”

“Well done at Entebbe. I’m sorry I did not have an opportunity to have a quiet chat with you about the future of your country. I have some definite views on the matter. You might wish to phone me. My number is with your security man at the door.”

“When Maria married me 35 years ago she went through the whole conversion spiel. We encouraged our boy, Milton, to make aliya, so as to be sure he’d meet a nice Jewish girl. He got a job in Beersheba and married a shikse from Russia. Where does that leave me? Anyway, congrats on Entebbe.”

“Our President demands reform in the Arab world. My Temple demands Reform in the Jewish State. Do something about it, please.”

“This is my first visit to the Holy Land and I, a Christian, support your just cause for the greater glory of Jesus Christ our Lord. Entebbe was an expression of His glory. This Land is your land. Stay the course.”

“Dear Yitzhak. You won’t mind me calling you Yitzhak. We must be about the same age, you and I. You’re Number One in my eyes.
Congrat-u-laaaations!
My late husband, Phil, left me well provided for, so I’ve made out a check for $2,000 for you to spend as you please. (Your bodyguard knows where to find me.)”

“Mr. Prime Minister, I run a big business, so if you’d like some help on how to run your little country I’d be happy to oblige free, gratis, and for nothing.”

“I congratulate you on your extraordinary rescue feat. But as a clinical psychologist I detect in you a bashful and timid reserve. Diagnostically, I would say you have a depressive personality. Its root cause is an inability to elicit love. You’re in search of a hero. Henry Kissinger wrestles with the same problem.”

“I had planned a private word in your ear but I can’t push in a crowd because of a back problem. What I wanted to say is, you’re doing a good job and I’ve donated a tidy sum. But isn’t it time you stopped being a socialist and become a proper Yiddisher mensch?”

“I leave this extraordinary country after five days feeling enriched and strengthened. God bless you for saving our people. Sure, you still have problems. But don’t worry
–
we Jews thrive on problems. If we didn’t have problems we’d invent them, otherwise we’d die of boredom. Keep it up. Next year in Jerusalem!”

“Great country! Great visit! Great people! Question: Is it true that you and Peres don’t hit it off? Terrific! I feel exactly the same way.”

“Mr. Rabin, yashar koach. These are Moshiach times. Consult the Lubavicher Rebbe. He knows what’s what. Am Yisrael Chai!”

“It was lovely. I just wish you would speak English a little better.”

Mr. Begin
–
time for a question?”

The
Jerusalem Post
parliamentary correspondent, Asher Walfish, had chanced upon the opposition leader as he was exiting the Knesset chamber on his way to the cafeteria for his mid-afternoon refreshment.

“For you, always,” said Begin, his smile widening in recognition. “Please join me for a glass of tea.” He beckoned the journalist to a corner table, thanked the waitress profusely for serving them so promptly, took a sip of his tea, and asked, “Now, what is it you’d like to talk to me about?”

“Yesterday’s American election,” answered the correspondent, readying his pen and pad. “Now that Jimmy Carter has won, and has announced Kissinger is not his choice for secretary of state, do you have any comment on Prime Minister Rabin’s statement that we shall yet look back on the Kissinger years with nostalgia?”

The date was 3 November 1976, and Jimmy Carter, former governor of Georgia, had just beaten the incumbent President Gerald Ford in the race for the White House.

“Ah, nostalgia!” chortled Begin, beaming like a boy. “What a word! I’m not even sure Mr. Rabin understands its full meaning. It is derived, as you know, from the Greek
nosto
s
–
a connotation of longing for a former happy circumstance.”

Begin took pleasure in showing off his penchant for classical languages, picked up as a law student at Warsaw University, and he assumed the man he was talking to, an Oxford graduate, would appreciate his little dip into etymology. But Walfish refused to accept such an answer, so he pressed, “Do you think it was an inappropriate thing for Rabin to say?”

Begin allowed his smile to cool off: “You tell me, Mr. Walfish
–
would
you
call Dr. Kissinger a former happy circumstance to be nostalgic about?”

“That’s my question, sir.”

Begin’s brows furrowed and his eyes frowned: “For a prime minister of our country to say that Israel shall yet yearn for Secretary of State Dr. Henry Kissinger is tantamount to saying to the American people: what a pity you elected Mr. Jimmy Carter as your next president.”

“Then you
are
concerned?”

“Concerned? Of course I’m concerned. Let me reveal to you something that has not yet been reported. During the height of the American election campaign I called on the prime minister in the company of a number of my colleagues to express dismay at certain of his public statements, which could only be construed as crass interference in their elections.”

“You’re talking about his complimentary remarks about President Ford and the enhanced military and economic aid we are now getting?”

“I am. We told him that his biased statements were undermining the bipartisan support Israel enjoys from democrats and republicans alike. Moreover, Mr. Rabin has done this before. When he was ambassador in Washington he brazenly came out in favor of Richard Nixon against Hubert Humphrey. Actually”
–
this with an impish smile
–
“
it paid off at the time, since Nixon won by a huge margin, as you will recall.”

Walfish’s mouth lifted into a sarcastic smile, and he teased, “So now that Kissinger is about to leave office might
you
, Mr. Begin, have cause to miss him
–
as a Jew, I mean?”

Measure for measure, Begin bantered, “So, now that you’ve finished your glass of tea might
you
, Mr Walfish, like another
–
as a friend, I mean?”

The
Jerusalem Post
man chuckled and shook his head. Being a veteran, he had had experience with the good humor and easy rapport which made Begin such a favorite with the press.

“In that case, allow me to indulge on my own,” said Begin, and he raised a finger to catch the waitress’s eye. Then, “As to your question, I got to know Dr. Kissinger quite well over the course of time, and I would say, yes, as a Jew he has a certain feeling toward us. But how can I be expected to feel nostalgia at his departure after all the occasions he exerted such pressure on us that caused us incalculable harm?”

“Such as when?” The correspondent’s eyes were focused firmly on Mr. Begin but his pen carried on writing as if of its own accord.

“Such as when Mr. Rabin initially said no to the so-called interim agreement with Egypt, and Kissinger imposed a so-called ‘reassessment’ policy on us between March and August last year. He claimed it was President Ford’s doing, but we all know it was his, and his pressure became so relentless that he ultimately forced Rabin to pull back deep into Sinai, abandon the Mitla and the Gidi Passes, surrender the oil fields, and all for what – for peace? Fiddlesticks! Sadat did not even renounce his state of war, let alone lift his boycott and allow our ships through the Suez Canal.” And then, without pause, “Please excuse me a moment, otherwise I’ll be in trouble with my wife.”

Begin put his hand in his pocket, extracted a pill, swilled it down with his tea, said with a twinkle, “Now you are a witness that I’ve followed my wife’s orders,” and then returned weightily to the subject in hand: “You didn’t by any chance follow the second
tv
debate between Carter and Ford, did you?” he asked the journalist.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Carter accused Ford of virtually bringing Israel to its knees
–
those were his words:
‘
to its knees
’
–
because of the ‘reassessment’ policy. And then there was the matter of the airlift during the Yom Kippur War, which was Nixon’s doing much more than Kissinger’s. And what about”
–
he was running on all cylinders now
–
“
when he rescued the Egyptian Third Army from inevitable surrender in the Yom Kippur War, depriving us of the chance of reaching some sort of an accommodation with the Egyptians? We had a whole Egyptian army at our mercy, and there was he, Kissinger, banging on the table trying to panic Prime Minister Golda Meir into believing the Soviets were about to march against us if we didn’t lift the siege. I’ve seen the transcripts. I’ve seen his actual words. He said, ‘Mrs. Meir, you want the Third Army? Well, the United States has no intention of entering World War Three because you want the Egyptian Third Army.’ That was his language.”

Begin paused to take a long sip of his tea, and a sudden glint entered his eyes. It was a puckish shine, a shine of reminiscence, that said, “I have a good story to tell,” and tell it he did:

“I once addressed Kissinger from the rostrum of the Knesset. I spoke to him as if he was standing right there in front of me. ‘Dr. Kissinger,’ I said, ‘you are a Jew. You are not the first Jew to achieve high office in the country of your domicile. Do not forget those other Jews, who had such complexes about being accused of bias in favor of their own people that they did the very opposite. They bent over backward. Don’t forget those Jews, Dr. Kissinger.’”

“I recall that,” said Walfish. “And I recall you were taken to task for it by government people.”

“I was,” said Begin, the glint still in his eyes. “There were some who railed against me. But I don’t regret a word I said, because I spoke the truth. And do you know what?” – the glint flowered into a grin – “I met Dr. Kissinger some time later and he, with that dry wit of his, said to me with mock sulkiness, as if I’d just berated him, ‘Mr. Begin,’ he said, ‘I heard you gave me hell in the Knesset.’ And I said, ‘Dr. Kissinger, me – hell? Never! Paradise is where you belong. Do the right thing by Israel,’ I said, ‘and you’ll earn your place in Paradise.’”

“And what did he say to that?”

“Oh, he just laughed, but we both knew it was
yenim’s g’lechter
” [Yiddish for “no laughing matter”].

A couple of months after that conversation, in mid-January 1977, Rabin called me in to say he wanted me to draft a letter to Kissinger.

“He’s stepping down in a few days,” the prime minister said, “and I want to send him a farewell message.”

“What kind, official or informal?” I asked.

Rabin pondered, and said, “A bit of both. We’ve had such a topsy-turvy relationship over the years
–
good times, bad times, friendship, fights. I have to think about it.”

Hands in pockets, he strode over to the window, stared into the murkiness of the winter twilight, and when his thoughts had germinated, turned and told me what he wanted to say. It was this:

Dear Dr. Kissinger,

This letter, addressed to you now on the eve of your departure from the State Department, is no mere formal communication of appreciation. We have known each other too long and too well for that. I, therefore, ask you to read my letter in the personal spirit in which it is written.

I look forward to a time when we shall have the opportunity to meet and chat about your days in government over these past eight years. These have been fateful years for America and the world, and if their direction has led mankind a step or two closer to international sanity, I have no doubt that you have had something to do with it. The chapter entitled “The Kissinger Period” in future history books will tell of one of the most dramatic, incisive and imaginative periods in American foreign policy. As you clear your desk at the State Department you can take satisfaction in the knowledge that you leave the affairs of nations in a somewhat better condition than you found them.

Hopefully, this applies also to my own part of the globe. In the course of our many personal and formal discussions we have not always seen eye to eye on the affairs of the Middle East. But I believe we have always understood each other, just as I know that we have been impelled by the same common concerns and aspirations for peace.

Few men have brought to the negotiating exercise such knowledge of our region, such skill, such an understanding and, if I may add, such boundless energy, as yourself. It is my hope that the building blocks you helped so assiduously to create will prove to be a foundation for a structure more permanent and firm. Certainly, we are determined to try.

In some important respects the Israel you knew when you came into office is now a stronger place. And I know that, in this area too, you have had a share in making it possible. Which is why we owe you much gratitude for helping to translate words into deeds, sentiments into actions and, not least, goodwill into policy. I will add that you leave office having helped create a period of unprecedented understanding in the history of the American-Israel relationship…It is in the spirit of these sentiments that I extend to you now my very best wishes and all good fortune for the future.

After Rabin had approved and signed the letter, I asked him if he truly believed he would miss Kissinger that much, given all the fights and the ups and the downs over the years. He gave me a dour look, lit a cigarette, bent down to extract a tumbler from a bottom drawer, filled it with Scotch and water, and with absolute conviction, said, “Yes, I’ll miss him.”

“Why?”

“For three reasons: One
–
he’s the only secretary of state who ever truly understood the Israel-Arab conflict. Two
–
the interim agreement is working out fine; not a single Israeli soldier has fallen on the Egyptian front since we signed it. And three
–
our relationship with Washington has never been better. What we now have is tantamount to a strategic alliance.”

“And Jimmy Carter
–
what do you make of him?”

Rabin rolled his eyes. “God knows! From what I’ve heard he sounds like a pie-in-the-sky do-gooder, with visions of curing all the ills of the world, beginning with our own. My fear is he’s going to embark on a misbegotten crusade to bring peace to the Holy Land and end up a misinformed meddler embroiling us all in an inferno.”

Imagine, then, his pleasant surprise when President Jimmy Carter welcomed him to the White House
–
this was on 7 March 1977
–
and emphasized in his public greeting America’s “long-standing commitment and friendship to Israel,” saying how “our two peoples are forever bound by our sharing of democratic principles and human liberty, and our constant search for peace.” The Jewish State, he said, “must have defensible borders so that peace commitments would never be violated,” and that, “in welcoming you and your delegation, I wish to reassure you at the outset, Mr. Prime Minister, that the United States is deeply committed to the security and welfare of Israel. There is no intention of our imposing upon your country any settlement that you feel might jeopardize your security. In fact, our commitment to Israel’s security takes precedence over any other interest in the area.”

What could possibly sound better than that? But behind closed doors the official talks that got under way took an ominous turn as President Carter began to press Rabin to reconvene the international Geneva peace conference in order to establish a comprehensive settlement with all of Israel’s neighbors. Rabin abhorred the idea of an international peace conference. It would mean facing Russia as a co-chairman with the U.S. and a solid bloc of hostile Arab states, backed by Moscow and the non-aligned nations, all intent on enfeebling Israel
–
a sure prescription for failure, if not outright war.

There was more: President Carter wanted not only Geneva; he wanted to know how the Palestine Liberation Organization, led by Yasser Arafat, would fit into the whole negotiation process. This core question was picked up by the Speaker of the House, Thomas (Tip) O’Neill, at a stag working dinner given by Carter for some sixty political heavyweights.

Tip O’Neill was a big, shambling Irish-American, and when he rose to ask about the
PLO
he did so in a deceptively innocent fashion
–
deceptive in that Rabin suspected he was speaking not only for himself but for President Carter, too.

“Mr. Prime Minister,” he said, “why can’t you bring yourself to negotiate with the
PLO
? Why can’t we ask you to do what we did? We talked to the Vietcong, not just with the North Vietnamese. If that’s what we did as representatives of a Great Power, why can’t you do the same? Why could the French negotiate with the Algerian
FLN
and conclude an agreement with them? Why were the British able to negotiate with underground movements all over the world – yours included – while you are unable to negotiate with the PLO? Why?”