The Prime Ministers: An Intimate Narrative of Israeli Leadership (48 page)

But the prime minister was not sure that he did. His finger trembled and his voice rumbled, “Nine miles, Mr. President! Inconceivable! Indefensible!”

Carter made no comment.

The finger now hovered over Tel Aviv, and it drummed the map.

“Here, in the Tel Aviv area, live a million Jews, twelve miles from that indefensible armistice line. And here, between Haifa in the north and Ashkelon in the south”
–
his finger was running up and down the coastal plain
–
“live two million Jews, two-thirds of our total population, together with virtually our entire national infrastructure. This coastal plain is so narrow in parts that a surprise thrust by a column of tanks could cut the country in two in a matter of minutes. For whosoever sits in these mountains”
–
his fingertip tapped Judea and Samaria, whose heights dominated the narrow coastal plain
–
“holds the jugular vein of Israel in his hands. The Soviet-supplied artillery possessed by our neighbors has a range of forty-three point eight kilometers. In other words, from any point along this so-called Green Line, their conventional artillery can hit every city and township in our country; every house, every man, woman and child. It would be a mortal danger. It would mean the beginning of the end of our statehood, independence, and liberty.”

Begin’s dark, watchful eyes swept the somber faces of the powerful men in front of him, and he declared tersely, “Gentlemen, I submit to you, no nation in our region can be rendered so vulnerable and hope to survive. There is no going back to those lines. Abba Eban called them the Auschwitz lines. No nation can live on borrowed time.”

Carter bent his head forward, the better to inspect the map, but still said nothing, and his features remained unfathomable.

Begin fixed his eyes upon him more intently, and in a tone that was official, precise, every word weighed, he proclaimed, “To Israel, the term national security is not an excuse for self-aggrandizement. National security is not a cloak to mask an expansionist ambition. National security is precisely that
–
survival; it is the lives of every man, woman and child in our country.”

As he spoke these words, something stirred deep inside him. There was a sudden detachment in his eyes, a distant gaze, as if he was looking at this dispassionate born-again Southern Baptist from way inside himself, from that most intimate of Jewish recesses
–
that private space of Jewish remembrance and of Jewish weeping and of Jewish hope. And, standing there in that place he declared in a voice that would not tolerate indifference, “Sir, the distinction between Jewish national security in the past and Jewish national security in the present is that in the present, our men can defend their women and children. In the past, in the Holocaust, they had to deliver them; they had to deliver them to their executioners. We were tertiated, Mr. President.”

Jimmy Carter lifted his head. “What was that word, Mr. Prime Minister?”

“Tertiated, not decimated. The origin of the word decimation is one in ten. When a Roman legion was found guilty of insubordination one in ten was put to the sword. In the case of our people it was one in three
–
TERTIATED!”

And then, in a tone that was stubborn, defiant, obdurate, he rose to his full height, banged his fist on the table, and thundered, “MR. PRESIDENT, I TAKE AN OATH BEFORE YOU IN THE NAME OF THE JEWISH PEOPLE! THIS WILL NEVER, EVER, HAPPEN AGAIN.”

And then he broke. His lips trembled. He clenched his fists and pressed them so tightly against the tabletop his knuckles went white. Unseeing, he stared at the map, struggling to blink back tears. Who could tell what ruined faces of friends and family were staring back at him at that moment as he stood there, dignified, weeping within.

Silence settled on the chamber. The tick of the antique clock on the marble mantelpiece became audible. An eternity seemed to hang between each tick. All the president’s men lowered their eyes until, by degrees, in slow motion, Menachem Begin straightened himself. Gradually the room came back to life.

“Would you like a recess, Mr. Prime Minister?” asked the president, seemingly moved.

“No, no,” answered Begin, pain still flickering in his eyes. “I apologize for speaking at such length. You see, I have so many things to say about my people, about our land, about our history, about our suffering, and about our future. But above all, I have to say this to you
–
you, the leader of the free world: our fathers and mothers were killed because they were Jews. We don’t want our grandchildren to suffer the same fate. I believe that were we to go back to those old lines, we would lose the very chance of peace.”

Like a cold wind blowing in from the Arctic, Zbigniew Brzezinski asked if this was the prime minister’s rationale for planting Jewish settlements in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. Was he contending that the proposed settlements were a matter of national security. Begin answered that they assuredly were. This was what he had meant when he’d said that for Israel, national security was not just an excuse for self-aggrandizement or a cloak for expansionist ambition. The settlements were critical to security. Equally, they were an expression of the inherent right of the Jewish people to settle in any part of their historic homeland.

Cyrus Vance seemed unruffled as a rule, but now displayed a great deal of agitation, contending that the new settlements would prove an insurmountable obstacle to peace and would destroy any hope for a successful Geneva conference. Carter thought so, too. The Rabin administration had taken the attitude of discouraging such settlements, he contended.

But Begin pooh-poohed the pessimism. Jews and Arabs already lived side by side in places like Jaffa, Jerusalem, and Haifa, he argued. Besides, no new settlements would be built on Arab-owned land, only on untilled, rocky and uncultivable land, of which there was plenty.

The Americans exchanged guarded glances. This was the Begin they had heard of
–
the inflexible and obstinate nationalist. Their disquiet was articulated by the president who said, “I shall have more to say on this very thorny question in a minute. Meanwhile, I am waiting to hear what you have to say on a Geneva peace conference.”

But Menachem Begin wasn’t ready for that just yet. He wouldn’t be rushed. He had one more thing to add, and add it he would.

“One last word, Mr. President,” he said.

He took out a piece of paper from his inside pocket, adjusted his spectacles, peered at the page, absorbed its contents, and then said with sudden good humor, “Mr. President, here in the United States of America there are eleven places named Hebron, five places named Shiloh, four places named Bethel, and six places named Bethlehem.”

Jimmy Carter’s eyes grew faintly amused. “Indeed there are. Within twenty miles of my home there is a Bethel and a Shiloh.”

“May I be permitted to visit them one day?”

“Of course. With pleasure! There are three good Baptist churches there.”

“In that case, I shall bring along our chief rabbi to protect me.”

Everybody laughed, but it was a hollow laugh.

“Allow me to put to you a hypothetical question. Imagine one day that the governors of the states in which these Hebrons and Shilohs and Bethels and Bethlehems were located were to issue a decree, declaring that any citizen of the United States was free to settle in any one of these places except for one category
–
the Jews. Jews are forbidden to build homes in the Shilohs and the Hebrons and the Bethels and the Bethlehems of America – so it would be decreed!”

Begin threw up his hands and let out an inflated sigh: “Oh dear! Everybody is welcome to settle in any of these places whose names derive from the Book of Books except for the People of the Book. Good women and men everywhere would cry from the rooftops
–
‘Scandalous!’ ‘Discrimination!’ ‘Bigotry!’ Am I not right?”

Jimmy Carter heard the penny drop and did not like the sound of it. “Hypothetically,” he said, not amused.

Whereupon Begin clinched his argument. “So how can you expect me, a Jewish prime minister of the Jewish State who heads a cabinet of fifteen Jews, free men all
–
how can you expect me to forbid my fellow Jews from acquiring a piece of land and building a home in the
original
Shiloh, in the
original
Bethel, in the
original
Bethlehem, and in the
original
Hebron, from whence our Jewish forefathers
originally
came? Would that not be scandalous?”

Impatiently, Jimmy Carter brought out the heavy artillery. “Not if building such a home would prove an obstacle to peace, and prevent a Geneva conference from being convened,” he chided. “My impression is, it would be regarded as an indication of bad faith, a signal of your apparent intention to make the military occupation of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip permanent. It might very well close off all hope of negotiations. On the other hand, if you would refrain from creating new settlements while we prepare for Geneva, that would be a gracious and encouraging sign.” And then, totally exasperated, “Mr. Begin, it would be incompatible with my responsibilities as president of the United States if I did not put this to you as bluntly and as candidly as I possibly could.”

The prime minister leaned back and settled his gaze on the ceiling above the president’s head. The two men were on vastly different trajectories, a no-exit confrontation on the settlements. But Begin was not going to wrangle. There was no point in a tug-of-war. He knew that on this issue of the settlements, the president was as determined as he was. Nevertheless, he somehow had to persuade this judgmental president who wanted to be a healer that he too honestly and truly wanted peace. So he shifted focus, and in an utterly composed and civil manner, said, “Mr. President, on behalf of the government of Israel I have the honor to present to you our official proposal on the convening of a Geneva peace conference. It is entitled, ‘The Framework for the Peacemaking Process,’” and he laid the document on the table before the president.

As Carter leafed through the pages, Begin went on, “We fully concur with your view that the goal of Geneva has to be a full and normal peace. For too long, we Jews have been the exception of history. We now have our own country, and the normal rules of nations must apply. After wars come peace treaties, and the purpose of negotiations should be peace treaties. This is why we stand on the principle of direct negotiations
–
direct negotiations without any prior conditions.”

“On everything? Are you saying everything is negotiable?” Thus Brzezinski, in an accent as Polish as Begin’s own. “Borders, withdrawals, the West Bank, everything is on the table
–
is that what you’re really saying?”

“Dr. Brzezinski, the word ‘non-negotiable’ is not a part of our vocabulary,” retorted Begin smugly. “Everything is open to negotiation. Everybody is at liberty to put on the table any subject he deems fit. Take Sadat of Egypt for example. Sadat says we have to retreat to the old sixty-seven armistice lines and that a so-called Palestinian state must be established in Judea and Samaria, and linked
–
Heaven forbid!
–
by an extra-territorial corridor across our Negev to the Gaza Strip. We say to President Sadat, that’s what you want? Fine! You are fully entitled to bring that position to Geneva, just as we are entitled to bring ours. Another example
–
Jerusalem. In Israel there is an almost total national consensus that the city shall forever remain the undivided and eternal capital of the Jewish people. Yet we are not asking the Arabs to accept this position in advance as our condition for going to Geneva. Not at all! This is what I mean when I say no prior conditions. Gentlemen, please understand, Israel has no conditions, only positions!”

“That’s positive,” responded the president, thawing. But then, sharply, “What about Security Council Resolution 242
–
do you agree that it should serve as the legal basis for the negotiations? Do you accept that?”

“Absolutely! It is written into our proposal. Actually, our proposal refers to Resolution 338, which already embodies 242 but specifies the additional need for negotiations directly between the parties. And I will be happy to say so in public.”

“That will help a lot,” said the president.

The prime minister then went on to list the other features of his Geneva proposal: that Israel would be willing to participate in the
conference
as of 10 October 1977
–
that is, after the Jewish Holy Days; that the other participants should be the accredited representatives of Syria, Egypt, Jordan, and Lebanon; that there should be an inaugural session at which the parties would make public opening statements; after that, separate bilateral committees should be established – Egypt-Israel, Syria-Israel, Jordan-Israel, Lebanon-Israel – and these should go to work to negotiate the respective peace treaties. Once done, the public session should be reconvened for the signing ceremonies.

“And if Egypt refuses to attend unless the
PLO
is invited, then what?” asked the president, his eyes sharp and assessing.

“Then Egypt makes Geneva impossible,” retorted Begin, without batting an eye. “The Israeli position was, and remains, that the
PLO
cannot attend under any circumstances. They have their charter, their covenant, which calls for the destruction of the Jewish State. So if the
PLO
shows up, Israel walks out. The
PLO
is a terrorist organization. However”
–
this reassuringly
–
“we have no objection to Palestinians as such participating in the Jordanian delegation; we shall not investigate their personal credentials.”

Everybody seemed happy with that, which prompted Begin to quip, “And by the by, we Jews, too, are Palestinians. Under the British mandate we all had Palestinian passports. There were Palestinian Arabs and there were Palestinian Jews.”

Nobody seemed to appreciate this, and the president plowed on, “But if the
PLO
recognizes the right of Israel to exist, would you not then talk to them? We have notified the
PLO
that if they fully endorse Resolutions 242 and 338 and acknowledge Israel’s right to exist we will begin to talk, and listen to their positions.”

Begin met fire with fire: “I say to you, Mr. President, I don’t need anybody to recognize my right to exist, and even if that terrorist Arafat were to make such a declaration, I wouldn’t believe a word he says. It would be tantamount to somebody approaching me with a knife and saying, ‘Take this knife and thrust it into your heart.’ I would reply, ‘but why should I agree to stick a knife into my own heart?’ And he would say, ‘For the sake of peace. Please commit suicide for the sake of peace.’ You are asking me to consider talking to such a person? The
PLO
’s vision of peace is our destruction. No! ABSOLUTELY NO!”

“But what happens if the bilateral committee idea which you have suggested flounders because of the boycott of the
PLO
?” asked Secretary of State Vance, trying to account for every possible pitfall.

“Then quiet American diplomacy should seek to establish other avenues of negotiation,” answered Begin.

“Such as what?

“Such as, for example, proximity talks. Let an American mediator move back and forth between our delegations, meeting in close proximity under the same roof, until he comes up with something. And there are other ways. The important thing is to get going. I have given you, Mr. President, the essence of our ‘Framework for the Peacemaking Process.’ We consider them serious proposals, designed to start an initiative, to keep momentum alive, and to bring to realization our yearnings for peace. We have an open mind on all these propositions. And with God’s help, and with the help of the United States, we shall surely make progress.”62