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What Sadat called the "electric shock diplomacy" of Jerusalem was galvanic—and he moved swiftly to make sure that the good will created by his mission was not dissipated. Within three weeks, Israeli diplomats and journalists were flying into Cairo to attend—along with a U.S. delegate and a United Nations representative—a pre-Geneva conference that Sadat had convoked. Even though the two countries were still technically at war, the Israelis found themselves welcomed with astounding warmth and joy by Egyptians. Near Alexandria, the Defense Ministers of Egypt and Israel met to discuss military maps. Now Menachem Begin had proposals. They would talk, face to face, said Sadat. Where? At Sadat's rest house near Ismailia. Each day brought its swirl of events, its new initiatives, its new improbabilities.
The Middle East, of course, is strewn with the ruins of old hopes for peace—colonial commissions, the corpses of assassinated mediators, United Nations resolutions signed but unhonored. Despite the euphoric glow last week in Cairo and Jerusalem, no one who has long watched the region's affairs was likely to announce: "Peace is at hand." Anwar Sadat had headily mixed statesmanship and showmanship, but that is a volatile combination. The very headlong momentum that Sadat had forced raised the question of whether he was practicing a durable diplomacy.
Initially, Washington feared that Sadat, by seizing the diplomatic reins from the U.S., might be moving too far ahead of events, too far away from the other Arab states that must be nudged along if a meaningful peace treaty is to be signed. The Administration was also concerned that Israel might not offer enough in return, or that Sadat would jeopardize an over-all Middle East peace by signing a separate Egyptian-Israeli accord.
These were and are legitimate cautions. There is ample truth in the cliché that those who ignore history are condemned to repeat it. But it is also true that slavish adherence to past precepts is the enemy of political creativity. Sadat's extravagant gamble made it possible for all parties concerned to think of the Middle East problem in a nontraditional way. Courageously, he broke a pattern of stalemate and mutual hostility between Israel and Egypt, the most populous and politically powerful of Arab states. Sadat's countrymen welcomed him home from his peacemaking voyage with ululations of joy, as if he had led his legions to victory over their mortal foe. Other Arabs were shocked, puzzled or silent. The Saudis, whose oil wealth has helped keep Egypt from bankruptcy for the past ten years, went quietly but cautiously along. He received too the tacit support of Jordan's King Hussein. But radical Palestinians denounced Sadat as a traitor and put a price on his head. A so-called summit of Arab "steadfast states" in Tripoli, convoked by Libya's Muammar Gaddafi, froze relations with Egypt. Calling their bluff—without Egypt defending the southern front, another Arab war against Israel would be a hopeless enterprise—Sadat broke off relations with Syria, Libya, Algeria, Iraq and South Yemen. His critics, said Sadat, were "dwarfs."
The Israelis, for their part, were impressed by Sadat's imagination. They knew that he had called on them for a creative response. They knew also the risks