The Prime Ministers: An Intimate Narrative of Israeli Leadership (62 page)

Page from Prime Minister Begin’s letter to President Sadat in which he lyrically reflects on the heart attack he had recently suffered, 3 August 1980

The thoughts which I am sharing with you now occurred to me as I was on the peak of Mount Moses, reciting the Koran and worshipping God in this sacred part of the land of Egypt which witnessed the birth of the great mission. As I was reciting the Koran on this unparalleled spot, I became more certain of a fact that I have stated before, that my peace initiative was a sacred mission. The story of the Israelites began in the Land of Egypt. It is apparent that it is the will of God that the story would find its completion in Egypt also.

Yosef Burg, himself a religious man of sharp wit and tranquil optimism, was genuinely mystified. “He really believes he talks directly with the Almighty,” he said, drolly. “He is summoning us from the heights of Sinai.”

Yitzhak Shamir, a hardheaded, hard-line realist, couldn’t believe his ears. He asked the prime minister to show him the pertinent paragraph again, and as he read it, he translated it slowly into Hebrew, word for word, while the urbane Yadin evaluated the more ambiguous phrases to make sure of the right rendering. Knowing Begin’s penchant for legalities, and his sometimes florid style, the three ministers suggested judicious points of reply. Thus it was that in the silence of his study that night, the prime minister reviewed the letter with patience, and answered it with ardor. “On Jerusalem,” he wrote, “I have told you everything I can, both orally and in writing. Jerusalem is our capital, one city, indivisible, with guaranteed free access to all the Holy Places for all religions.”

And then, totally fed up of platitudes and clichés, he cut through the claptrap.

Prince Fahd of oil-rich Saudi Arabia calls on his Arab brothers to march on Israel in a holy war
–
jihad. We are not impressed. You know me by now, Mr. President. I hate war with every fiber of my soul. I love peace. My colleagues and I made great sacrifices for the sake of peace. If there are, anywhere, ungrateful men who prefer to forget what we did, and the sacrifices we made for the sacred cause of peace
–
let them buy oil, let them sell arms, let them be friends of tyrants, like the ruler of Iraq, to mention just one. Let them sell principles and dignity. They will not change the irrefutable facts.

And then, soaring high on the winds of history:

Yes, we hate war and yearn for peace. But let me say this: should anybody at any time raise against us a modern sword in the attempt to rob us of Jerusalem, of our capital, the object of our love and prayers, we Jews will fight for Jerusalem as we have never done since the days of the Maccabees. And how Judah the Maccabee and his brothers fought and won the day, every student of history and strategy knows. The threats of Prince Fahd are of no concern to us. He does not know
–
how can he?
–
what this generation of Jews, who suffered the indescribable fall and the unprecedented triumph, is capable of sacrificing and doing in order to defend the people, the country, Jerusalem. He may have the billions of petro-dollars; we have the will and the unconditional readiness for self-sacrifice.

This was evidently enough for the Egyptian president. A week later he wrote a brief letter of acknowledgement, suggesting they meet sometime somewhere at a summit. No such summit ever took place and Menachem Begin held by his vow to never discuss the matter again in any forum. The United Nations remained equally obdurate, refusing to recognize Jerusalem as Israel’s capital, even its pre-1967 Western half. As a matter of policy, all embassies remain located in Tel Aviv, including that of the United States, electoral promises to the contrary notwithstanding.

On an afternoon in early May, 1981, a group of about thirty young Americans greeted the prime minister with spirited applause, as he entered his conference room. They were budding Jewish community activists affiliated with the United Jewish Appeal. With old-world charm, Begin made his way around the table, kissing the hands of the young ladies, shaking the hands of the young men, and asking everybody their first names and where they came from. His opening remarks were punctuated by coughs, and as he cleared his throat of rumbling phlegm he apologized, and explained that he had caught a slight chest cold at the opening ceremonies of the recently held Holocaust Memorial Day
–
the annual commemoration of the six million Jews who perished at the hands of the Nazis.

Irving Bernstein, the indomitable executive vice president of the
UJA
, who was in charge of the group, asked in his typical straight-to-the-point manner, “Tell us, Mr. Begin, in which way does the memory of the Holocaust impact on your attitude toward Germany today?”

Everybody straightened up, attentive, as the prime minister buried his face in his hands. Looking through his fingers, he told them that the subject was deeply emotional for him. Softly, in sorrowful spirit, he added, “You see, I know how my mother, my father, my brother, and my two
cousins –
one four years old, one five years old
–
went to their deaths. My father was the secretary of the Brisk Jewish community. He walked to his death at the head of five hundred fellow Jews, leading them in the singing of
“
Hatikva
,” and
“
Ani ma’amin
,” the declaration of faith in the coming of the Redemption. The Germans drove them into the River Bug, which flows through Brisk. They opened fire with machine guns, and the river turned to blood. Their bodies were left to float down the river. That is how they died. And my mother
–
she was elderly and sick in hospital
–
they drove her and all the other patients out of the building, and slaughtered them on the spot. So yes, I live with this trauma. It colors everything I do. I shall live with it until my dying day.”

Begin stared unseeingly at the faces of his young guests. After a few moments, he snapped out of his reverie, his composure restored, smiled a faint smile, and said, “Now,
baruch Hashem
, we Jews have the means to defend ourselves. We have our courageous Israel Defense Forces.”

“But can there be no pardon, ever?” asked a young man named Bob, from Denver. He was short, intense, with piercing eyes, and spoke with a southern drawl. “Doesn’t there ever come a time when we have to put the past behind us?”

“No, Bob, I can’t do that,” said Begin. “I cannot forget or forgive what the Germans did to our people. Every German I see of that generation, I think to myself, perhaps he’s the one. Years ago, my wife and I visited the Vatican library in Rome. We had both studied Latin as students and were examining a Latin translation of a biblical text, comparing it with the original Hebrew, when a couple approached and asked us in English what language we were speaking. ‘Hebrew,’ we said. ‘So you must be from Israel,’ they said. And when they learned that we were, they shook our hands with tremendous enthusiasm, ‘Oh, you have no idea how much we admire and respect your country,’ they said. ‘And where are you from?’ I asked. ‘Germany,’ they said. ‘How old are you?’ I asked the man. ‘Forty-five,’ he said. So I said, ‘In World War Two, you would you have been twenty or so.’ He said, ‘That’s right.’ Instantly and instinctively, my wife and I started to back away, and we did not say another word to them. I thought to myself, perhaps this man took part in the slaughter of my father and my mother, and our Jewish children. And when I speak of my father, I speak of all the slaughtered fathers, and when I speak of my mother, I speak of all the slaughtered mothers, and when I speak of my little brother and my little cousins, I speak of all the slaughtered little Jewish children
–
of all the Moysheles and the Surales and the Yankeles and the Rivkales and the Dovidels. How much of the Jewish genius was choked and charred in the pit? How much was buried alive? Who can measure? To us the cost of the Holocaust will forever be paid.”

A melancholy silence fell upon the room, and when Begin next spoke it was from behind clenched teeth. “The Germans bear collective responsibility for a horror the like of which has not been known since God created man and man created Satan. So long as that embodiment of all evil
–
Adolf Hitler
–
brought them their victories, the German people hailed him. Only when his fortunes declined did they begin to turn their backs on him, and even then, only a small minority. So, no, I shall never shake the hand of a German – NEVER!”

“But what do you do when you have to officially receive Germans as prime minister?” asked a young lady in a flowery frock. She had large, intelligent eyes, and her name was Hilary. She was from Cleveland. “Don’t you shake their hands even then?”

“Oh, then it’s quite a different matter,” Begin reassured her. “As prime minister, I have my official duties to fulfill. When German representatives come to see me, I receive them with formal courtesy. That is my civic duty. We have important issues to discuss.”

“Do you ever speak to them in German?” asked Hilary.

“No. I know German but I won’t speak their language. We communicate in English.”

“Rumor has it, though,” said a husky, muscular type who introduced himself as Tony from Detroit, “that these days, you refuse to speak to the German Chancellor Helmut Schmidt, that you insulted him, causing something of a crisis with Germany. Is that correct?” He was looking at the prime minister with avid curiosity.

Silence.

Begin sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, and slowly began repeating back word for word everything the young man had just said, mulling it over. A muscle quivered in his cheek when he answered with a cordiality he clearly did not feel, “You evidently are unaware, Tony, of what the German Chancellor recently said
–
how he trampled on our people’s dignity, honor, and historic justice.”

Tony shrugged. “Yes, I guess I am unaware.”

“So I shall tell you,” said Begin grimly. “During a recent visit to Saudi Arabia, Chancellor Helmut Schmidt made a public statement declaring that Germany owed particular obligations to a number of peoples, among them the Palestinian Arabs. But he made no mention of Germany’s obligation toward the Jews. His nation destroyed more Jews than the population of Switzerland, of Norway, and almost as many as Sweden, yet he made no mention of his responsibility to the Jewish people. Oh yes”
–
this with acrid sarcasm
–
“he had the nicest things to say about his hosts, Saudi Arabia, to whom he intends to sell arms. He described Saudi Arabia as Germany’s most important ally after America and the European Union
–
this about a society that is corrupt from top to bottom.”

The prime minister’s eyes were burrowing into Tony’s, and his voice was raised when he added, “Is that not scandalous? Should not every German be ashamed? I was beside myself in astonishment when I heard about it. Could it be, I asked myself, that he, of all people, had consciously omitted to make mention of Germany’s obligation to the Jews – and in Saudi Arabia of all places? So, yes, I delivered a speech and I told him what I thought of him.”

“What did you say?”

“I publicly reprimanded him. I said his statement showed callous disregard for the Jews exterminated by his people in World War Two. I reminded him that he had been a soldier in the German Army
–
an officer, no less
–
and that he had remained steadfast to his personal oath of loyalty to Hitler to the very end. He served both on the Russian front and the Western front, until he was captured by the British in forty-four.”

“And how did he react to that?”

“He demanded an apology.”

“And did you offer one?”

“Certainly not! I said that I was speaking as a free man who had fought for the survival and liberation of my own people, and I counseled him. I said to him, Mr. Schmidt, take an example from your predecessor, Chancellor Willie Brandt. Go to Warsaw, as he did. Go to the site where the Jewish ghetto once stood, and go down on your knees as he did, and ask for the forgiveness of the Jewish people for the crimes perpetrated against us by the Nazi regime, which you so loyally served as an officer in the Wehrmacht.”

Some slight unease came into Mr. Begin’s voice as he added, a little shamefacedly, “But, Tony, I have to confess I made one mistake.”

“What was that?”

“I was told that Lieutenant Schmidt had been among the select audience of viewers of a film that showed the hanging of the German officers who rebelled against Hitler in the July Plot of nineteen forty-four. I later learned, however, that Mr. Schmidt had been invited to the screening, but did not attend. Nevertheless, he did take part”
–
again, his voice picked up its earlier contempt
–
“in a shameful trial against Nazi oppositionists that was presided over by the infamous Judge
Freisler
, the ‘hanging judge’ of the Nazi People’s Court of Berlin. Freisler had been a participant in the nineteen forty-two Wannsee Conference, which decided on the extermination of the Jews of Europe
–
the Final Solution.”

“And did you apologize to the chancellor for that mistake
–
about the screening?” asked Tony.

“No, I chose not to. Rather, I informed a certain member of the Bundestag who wrote me on the matter, that while I have no hesitation in admitting my error concerning the film, Mr. Schmidt remains culpable for participating in an infamous trial that was held in the most dreaded tribunal of the Third Reich and presided over by the most dreaded of judges of the Third Reich – Herr Freisler. That, in itself, is an indelible stain on the record of any German officer of the Third Reich.”75

Then, surprisingly, Begin beamed a sudden smile, the smile one flashes when sharing a juicy piece of gossip. “The irony of it all,” he shared, “is that Chancellor Helmut Schmidt’s father was the illegitimate son of a self-confessed Jew, or so I have been told.”

“Whaddya know!” marveled Tony
.

At this point, Yechiel Kadishai walked in to remind the prime minister of his next meeting.

“Before you leave, Mr. Prime Minister,” said Irving Bernstein, anxious that his wards take away some parting wisdom, “would you share with us what you think is the relevant message of the Holocaust for the people here, who are the coming leaders of the American Jewish community?”

Menachem Begin scanned the circle of young men and women surrounding him, stroked his chin in prolonged contemplation, leaned across the table from the edge of his chair, and said, “I pray with all my heart that you shall forever enjoy lives of tranquility and security. However, you must always remember that we Jews have a certain collective national experience that goes back many centuries. And in light of that experience, I believe the lessons of the Holocaust are these. First, if an enemy of our people says he seeks to destroy us, believe him. Don’t doubt him for a moment. Don’t make light of it. Do all in your power to deny him the means of carrying out his satanic intent. Second, when a Jew anywhere is threatened, or under attack, do all in your power to come to his aid. Never pause to wonder what the world will think or say. The world will never pity slaughtered Jews. The world may not necessarily like the fighting Jew, but the world will have to take account of him. Third, a Jew must learn to defend himself. He must forever be prepared for whenever threat looms. Fourth, Jewish dignity and honor must be protected in all circumstances. The seeds of Jewish destruction lie in passively enabling the enemy to humiliate us. Only when the enemy succeeds in turning the spirit of the Jew into dust and ashes in life, can he turn the Jew into dust and ashes in death. During the Holocaust it was after the enemy had humiliated the Jews, trampled them underfoot, divided them, deceived them, afflicted them, drove brother against brother, only then could he lead them, almost without resistance, to the gates of Auschwitz. Therefore, at all times and whatever the cost, safeguard the dignity and honor of the Jewish people. Fifth, stand united in face of the enemy. We Jews love life, for life is holy. But there are things in life more precious than life itself. There are times when one must risk life for the sake of rescuing the lives of others. And when the few risk their own lives for the sake of the many, then they, too, stand the chance of saving themselves. Sixth, there is a pattern to Jewish history. In our long annals as a nation, we rise, we fall, we return, we are exiled, we are enslaved, we rebel, we liberate ourselves, we are oppressed once more, we rebuild, and again we suffer destruction, climaxing in our own lifetime in the calamity of calamities, the Holocaust, followed by the rebirth of the Jewish State. So, yes, we have come full circle, and with God’s help, with the rebirth of sovereign Israel we have finally broken the historic cycle: no more destruction and no more defeats, and no more oppression – only Jewish liberty, with dignity and honor. These, I believe, are the underlying lessons to be learned from the unspeakable tragedy of the Holocaust.”

The pall of the Holocaust clung to Menachem Begin like a shroud, unremittingly. This greatly influenced my own perceptions of Germany and the Germans. Indeed, were it not for those intense years I worked for Menachem Begin, I doubt whether I would have had the temerity to defy protocol and create the stir I did in Buckingham Palace, when the president of Germany made a state visit to London during my tenure as Israeli ambassador there.

It all began when the royal summons reached me on a July day in 1986, in the form of an envelope as soft and as thick as summer cream. It contained a gold-embossed card sealed with the Queen’s seal, informing me in Florentine script that:

The Lord Steward has received Her Majesty’s command to invite His Excellency the Ambassador and Mrs. Avner to a State Banquet to be given by the Queen and the Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, at Buckingham Palace in Honor of the President of the Federal Republic of Germany and Freifrau von Weizsacker.

Came the day, and to the standing ovation of peers, government notables, civic dignitaries, and foreign envoys
–
many wearing dazzling insignia of high rank and ancient office
–
heralds trumpeted a ceremonial flourish as Queen Elizabeth
ii
and her consort escorted the German president and his lady into the palace’s spectacular banqueting chamber. Women in evening gowns curtsied and men in black ties bowed as the majestic procession glided across the crimson carpet under a chandelier-laden ceiling whose radiance cast a pleasing light on the Gainsboroughs, Reynolds, Holbeins, Hogarths, and Constables which Queen Victoria hung in 1856 to celebrate the end of the Crimean War.