(3 of 35)
The more I dealt with other Arab leaders, the more disparity I discovered between their private assurances and their public comments. They would privately put forward ideas for peace and encourage us in any reasonable approach. However, the peer pressure among them was tremendous. None—apart from Sadat—was willing to get out in front and publicly admit a willingness to deal with Israel.
President Sadat's visit to Jerusalem on Nov. 19-21 and his speech to the Knesset were among the most dramatic events of modern history. At the First Baptist Church in Washington, I prayed publicly for peace during a special early-morning service, and then the congregation adjourned so we could return to our homes in time to watch the arrival ceremonies on television. Sadat made a great speech, spelling out in very blunt terms the Arab requirements for any peace settlement. The meaning of the words themselves was muted by the fact that he was standing there alone, before his ancient enemies, holding out an olive branch. The Israeli welcome to him was truly remarkable. The Israelis were also facing their ancient enemy.
On May 1, 1978, Prime Minister Begin came over for the American commemoration of the 30th anniversary of the state of Israel, and we had a private discussion. I told him that peace in the Middle East was in his hands, that he had a unique opportunity to either bring it into being or kill it and that the Arabs genuinely wanted peace, particularly Sadat. My guess was that he would not take the necessary steps to bring peace to Israel—an opportunity that might never come again.
There was no prospect for success if Begin and Sadat stayed apart; and their meetings had now become fruitless because the two men were too personally incompatible to compromise on the issues facing them. There was only one thing to do, as dismal and unpleasant as the prospect seemed: I would try to bring Sadat and Begin together for an extensive negotiating session with me.
Thirteen Days on the Mountain
It was an especially beautiful evening in one of the loveliest places on earth. We were staying for a few days of rest in the Brinkerhoff Lodge on the edge of Jackson Lake in Wyoming. The Grand Tetons rose into the clear sky across the water, some of our newest and most unweathered mountains, the sharp peaks a breathtaking spectacle. Earlier in the day, I had been fly-fishing for cutthroat trout in the nearby Snake River. Late in the afternoon, Amy and I had picked wild huckleberries in a grove of quaking aspen near the cabin, and we all enjoyed a delicious berry pie for supper. Although it was not cold, Rosalynn and I built a small fire just to watch the flames in the open fireplace. It had been one of those special days.
But at its close my thoughts were not on the cutthroat trout, the delicious food or the beauties of nature. It was late at night, and I was very tired. I was studying a thick volume, written especially for me, about two men: Menachem Begin and Anwar Sadat. In a few days, on Sept. 5, 1978, I would welcome them to Camp David. Ours would be a new approach, perhaps unprecedented in history. Three leaders of nations would be isolated from the outside world; an intensely personal effort would be required of us. I had to understand these men!
Psychological analyses of two of