MIDDLE EAST: Sadat: The Hour of Decision

Exploiting his diplomatic breakthrough, he calls for a summit in Cairo

Puffing contentedly on his pipe, President Anwar Sadat gazed out the window of Egyptian 01 at one of the Israeli Kfir fighters that escorted him part of the way from Tel Aviv to Cairo. “Just look at what has changed in only 40 hours,” he said. “Did you ever dream that Anwar Sadat would be received as a hero in Israel?”

If only for the extraordinarily warm welcome he received on his historic “sacred mission,” Sadat probably had a right to declare himself “100% satisfied” with his trip. Although he returned home without specific concessions—in fact, he did not expect any, at least not right away—the Egyptian President had suddenly transformed the nature and direction of Middle East diplomacy. Once more the road to Geneva was open, and the possibility of a Middle East settlement was something more than a distant dream.

Exploiting the breakthrough, Sadat last week invited “all the parties to the conflict—including Israel—to meet here in Cairo and prepare for a Geneva conference.” He told the cheering Egyptian national People’s Assembly that he was prepared to be host to such a meeting as early as this week. Sadat’s announcement caught the eligible participants—Israel, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, the U.S. and the Soviet Union—by surprise. The Israelis indicated that they were willing to attend. Syria, seething over Sadat’s overtures to Israel, rejected the invitation flatly. The U.S. was interested— but not in being the only other party at an Israeli-Egyptian minisummit. At week’s end other nations were still debating their responses.

Unexpected events created by instant diplomacy no longer seemed impossible after Sadat’s trip to Jerusalem. By his visit and a tough but compassionate speech to the Knesset, he had acknowledged Israel’s right to exist in a way few Jews ever expected from an Arab leader. He and Premier Menachem Begin had made a mutual pledge: “No more war.” The Egyptian President made it clear that this promise was a conditional one—namely that there would be no more war if Israel accepted a peace agreement that included the return of all Arab territories occupied since the 1967 Six-Day War.

Israelis were disappointed that Sadat had not given one inch on that longstanding Arab demand. Nonetheless, they also had a strong new feeling that his trip had been so extraordinary that it was now their turn to respond in some creative way to the Egyptian President’s gesture. Foreign Minister Dayan stressed repeatedly last week that Sadat had created “an hour of decision” for Israel and indeed all the Middle East. Said Dayan: “All the old concepts—proximity talks, shuttles—have fallen by the wayside and we have now been confronted with the need to decide, not just on technical matters but on the very substance of issues. We will have to decide what to suggest, where to give up more and where to give up less.”

In Egypt, millions had watched in wonderment as television cameras followed Sadat’s visits to Jerusalem’s Al Aqsa mosque and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and recorded his speech to the Knesset. Returning home, Sadat got a tumultuous hero’s welcome. In a slightly orchestrated campaign of support, messages of thanks and encouragement poured into Cairo from Morocco, Jordan, the Sudan, Kuwait and—most important —Saudi Arabia, whose grants and loans keep Egypt from bankruptcy. The Saudis had been startled by Sadat’s decision to visit Jerusalem; Sadat had made it a particular point to brief them beforehand, but like everyone else, they did not believe he was serious. However, Riyadh was pleased by Sadat’s strong stand for Arab rights rather than narrow Egyptian advantages. The Saudis refused to take sides publicly, but sent a private emissary to Cairo, affirming support.

Sadat needed that backing, since elsewhere in the Arab world he was denounced furiously as a traitor to the cause. Libya closed its docks and airports to traffic from Egypt. Abetted by Yasser Arafat and other leaders of the Palestine Liberation Organization, Colonel Muammar Gaddafi tried to enlist Syria in a newly enlarged “rejection front” that would also include Iraq, Algeria and the Palestinians. Gaddafi dangled cash and French-supplied Mirage III jets as incentives. Declared he: “I will extend unlimited support to pull the traitor Sadat down before he drags us into new infamous adventures.” Although the anti-Sadat rhetoric that emerged from Damascus last week was pure vitriol (SADAT WENT TO ISRAEL TO LICK THE ZIONIST BOOT, screamed the Damascus daily Tishrin), Syrian President Hafez Assad refused to commit himself to the anti-Sadat alignment. For one thing, the ideological animosity between the ruling Baath parties of Syria and Iraq is almost as deep as the two countries’ hatred of Israel. For another, Assad basically is as committed to peace talks as is Sadat, who discounted the animosity of his crusty colleague. “I am sure Assad wil come round,” he told TIME Correspondent Wilton Wynn. “He always behaves this way. Remember, after I signed the 1975 second Sinai accord, Assad attacked me for a whole year, but in the end he came around.”

After his return home, Sadat confided to advisers that he thought Geneva could be convened by the end of December or perhaps early in January. Preparation for the conference, he estimated, could be handled in two or three weeks of hard work. U.S. diplomats, among others, regard that timetable as far too optimistic, even though the U.S. is as anxious as anyone to get to Geneva; some believe that March might be a more reasonable target date. If a conference begins earlier, the possibility exists that it would be attended only by Israel, Egypt, Jordan—and the U.S. and the Soviet Union, as cosponsors.

That prospect does not worry Sadat too much. He believes that if the conference starts well, the Syrians and Palestinians—assuming a formula for their representation can be worked out—will show up later on. Washington, after top White House and State Department policymakers spent their Thanksgiving holiday digesting extensive reports by Ambassadors Hermann Eilts in Cairo and Samuel Lewis in Jerusalem, began to tinker with a new formula for a pre-Geneva “preparatory conference”—comprising Israel, Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, the U.S. and the Soviets, if Moscow wished—that would keep a comprehensive multilateral Geneva conference going until Syria and the Palestinians decided to join. Meanwhile, the Eilts-Lewis cables were relayed to U.S. Ambassador Richard Murphy in Damascus; Murphy was instructed to use them to convince Assad that Sadat did not sell out the Arab side in Jerusalem. Obviously, Washington, shut out of the Sadat-Begin talks, very much wanted to be part of the followup.

Agreement between Begin and Sadat about the need to prepare for Geneva was the only concrete result of the trip. At the end of the visit, Begin released a 107-word “agreed statement” with which the Egyptian President concurred; in diplomatese, the communiqué was one step below a joint statement. The declaration expressed the desire for further dialogue between the two countries; the goal was “successful negotiation leading to the signing of peace treaties in Geneva with all Arab states.”

Underlying this carefully guarded statement was the prospect that Egypt and Israel might establish working committees on substantive issues that could lead to what Zbigniew Brzezinski, President Carter’s National Security Adviser, has described as “Geneva Up”: a peace conference at which most procedural and some substantive issues had been agreed upon in advance to preclude the possibility of failure. The alternative was “Geneva Down”: an unfocused, probably contentious conference at which even basic procedures would be subject to intense wrangling. At week’s end Foreign Minister Dayan flew to West Germany for a scheduled round of talks with Chancellor Helmut Schmidt’s government. Across the Middle East, rumors rebounded that he might meet there with Egyptian diplomats—or, possibly, even go later to neutral Rumania for a conference with his Cairo counterpart, acting Foreign Minister Butros Ghali.

Precisely how Israel would respond to Sadat’s initiative depended, in large measure, on the outcome of a subtle contest between Foreign Minister Dayan and Premier Begin. It was not by any means an open fight, but there were significant differences between the men about the meaning of Sadat’s trip. Begin apparently believed that the visit did not call for any immediate Israeli countermove. By contrast, Dayan feels that Israel needs to reappraise its position toward the Arab states—and to do so quite soon.

The difference in the Dayan-Begin approach was apparent in the private conversations that Israeli leaders had with Sadat, starting at a working lunch Sunday a few hours before the Egyptian President spoke to the Knesset. The location was the King David Hotel. Sadat, who customarily eats a late breakfast and skips lunch, sipped juice and coffee while the five other participants—Begin, Dayan, Deputy Premier Yigael Yadin, Sadat Aide Hassan Kamel and Egyptian Socialist Liberal Party Leader Mustafa Kamel Murad—ate heartily. Once pleasantries were over, Dayan was the first to talk about substance: “Let’s hear what you expect from us.”

Sadat: Moshe, this is not the way to do it. You tell me what is possible and what is impossible from your point of view.

Dayan (after receiving Begin’s permission to proceed): We cannot live side by side with an independent Palestinian state, and we cannot carry out 100% withdrawal from the territories. This does not mean Israeli sovereignty over those areas, you understand, but these details can be discussed later.

Sadat: No, no. I would like to hear the details too.

Begin (smiling): If we enter into specific details, it will mean that these are our concessions and you will start the negotiations from these points.

Sadat (laughing): Gentlemen, we have to start somewhere. I am ready to be honest and keep those detailed ideas to myself and not use them in future negotiations. But honestly, I would like to hear your points of view.

Dayan: Let’s not commit ourselves.

These are private ideas which do not involve the Israeli Cabinet.

Begin: No. Every private idea at this level is an official opinion. Moshe must give you general ideas, without specifics.

The two sides met again at the King David for a larger, more formal dinner after Sadat and Begin had delivered their speeches to the Knesset. By then there was a slight chill of disappointment around the table; the Israelis were disappointed that Sadat had not offered them something new. The President and the Premier, seated side by side, conversed diffidently; Sadat finally sought Dayan’s attention but discovered he was seated on the one-eyed Foreign Minister’s blind side. In friendly fashion, Sadat literally turned Dayan around to face him. They started a new conversation about continuing lines of communication; it eventually led to the concept of working committees, referred to obliquely in Begin’s communiqué.

Sadat continued the discussion in a two-hour private discussion with Begin. Remarked the Egyptian President at one point: “We’ve always had a Kissinger between us. I’m happy to see that we get along so well without dear Henry.” In none of the talks did Sadat show any interest in bilateral negotiations that might lead to a separate peace settlement. That, he said, “would split the Arab world and put Egypt and myself in an impossible position.”

In fact, Sadat by his visit had already split the Arab world, although it remained to be seen how deep and permanent that gap was. As for being in an “impossible position,” that phrase was less applicable to Egypt than to the P.L.O., whose panicky leaders last week worried whether they might end up as the losers in the new Middle East diplomatic moves. Although Sadat spoke forthrightly to the Knesset about Palestinian rights to a homeland, never once did he mention the P.L.O.—which Arab leaders, at their 1974 Rabat summit, had designated as the sole legitimate representative ofthe Palestinian people.

Responding to sharp Palestinian criticism of his trip, Sadat on his return home shut down the Egyptian Voice of Palestine, a P.L.O. radio station, and expelled 20 Palestinians who had tried to organize demonstrations against his mission. He also arranged for Egypt’s majority political group, the Arab Socialist Party, to invite leaders of Palestinian Arabs who live on the West Bank to Cairo for consultations about the resumption of Geneva talks. The invitation pointedly called on the Palestinian people “to differentiate between those who seek peace and those who want to destroy everything.”

Privately, P.L.O. leaders conceded that without the united support of other Arab states, Sadat had the advantage. They feared that the Saudis and others might be prepared to jettison the Rabat agreement if a Geneva peace settlement could be worked out allowing some alternative arrangement involving Palestinians other than the P.L.O. One Fatah commander gloomily concluded that Egypt and Israel “have agreed to get rid of us by any means, without at least giving us back part of our land.”

Before, during and after the visit, Sadat made it clear that a solution to the Palestinian problem was the key to any Middle East peace settlement. He had advised the Israelis not to be excessively legalistic in trying to veto whoever would represent the Palestinians at Geneva. His invitation to the West Bank leaders may also have been a warning to the P.L.O. to soften its anti-Israel stance in the interests of a greater good —a settlement that could lead to a Palestinian entity. Privately, some P.L.O. members thought that if the organization was being neglected by Arab moderates it had only itself to blame. Washington had stated that some gesture of recognition toward Israel could lead to dialogue. Overplaying its hand, the P.L.O. had refused to make any such gesture, thereby losing a golden opportunity to gain wider international recognition.

Sadat’s initiative has already had a small but discernible impact at the United Nations, that uncertain barometer of the global mood. Egyptian Ambassador Esmat Abdel Meguid walked out during an anti-Sadat diatribe by his Syrian colleague, though he later cast Egypt’s vote for a Syrian-inspired resolution condemning Israel’s occupation of Arab lands. During the debate he smiled and nodded through a speech by Israel’s Chaim Herzog. In his address, Abdel Meguid had said, “Let us have a fifth battle for peace,” referring to four previous wars between Israel and the Arabs that left 10,010 Israelis dead and 28,824 on the Arab sides. Echoed Herzog: “We accept the challenge. We are prepared to set out on what we trust will be the fifth and final struggle, the struggle for peace.”