Remembering Arafat

by Paul Findley

During my years in Congress, Yasser Arafat's name was often mentioned in committee meetings and on the floor of the House of Representatives but rarely without an ugly prefix. "Terrorist" Arafat led the "terrorist" PLO consisting of "terrorist" Palestinians. Observers unfamiliar with the Arab-Israeli conflict might have mistakenly assumed that the adjective "terrorist" was actually a proper part of these names.

One evening years ago, during one of my periodic open discussions with citizens in my hometown, Jacksonville, Illinois, the executive director of the Chamber of Commerce, wondered out loud about my willingness to associate with Arafat, a "person widely considered more evil than Genghis Khan." My answer: "Arafat was a powerful leader in the Middle East, and a major power, like the United States, should have the best possible communication with him. With the U.S. government foolishly refusing direct talks, I tried to fill the gap as best I could."

While in Congress, I met personally with Arafat twice, both times in his quarters in Damascus. The first was in January 1978 while a member of a congressional group on a tour of the Middle East. After I promised never to mention their names, two other Members of Congress joined Mrs. Findley and myself on the unscheduled, unofficial side trip to meet the controversial PLO leader. Both to and from his quarters, our cars were escorted by heavily armed escorts. After a discussion of more than two hours with Arafat, we joined him for a late meal.

I returned alone in November for a long follow-up discussion, during which Arafat authorized me to report to the White House his terms for living at peace with Israel: As chairman of the PLO executive committee, he pledged that the new Palestine would live at peace, have de facto political relations with Israel, and renounce all violent efforts to enlarge the country, provided that Israel accept an independent Palestine consisting of the West Bank and Gaza District, with a connecting corridor.

On both occasions, I found him to be candid and willing to be quoted. His perpetually scruffy beard belied his genial, warm manner. While watching the recent baseball World Series, it occurred to me that Arafat would fit comfortably with the scruffy but genial Red Sox players. Although scrupulously clean, the Palestinian leader always looked like he had climbed out of embattled trenches and seldom had a chance to shave. He was a guerrilla fighter and looked the part.

His broad, ready grin and laughter were engaging. Although his hands were small, his handshake was warm and firm. He spoke English, but occasionally looked to an aide for the right word. He was a good listener, never interrupting. Once, when my tape recorder failed, he produced a substitute. He had a good sense of humor. He looked straight into my eyes as we talked.

If he was corrupt in managing PLO affairs, as critics frequently charged, the corruption was well concealed. At all of my meetings with him over a period of 23 years, I believe he wore the same nearly-threadbare uniform jacket and trousers.

My experience with Arafat began in 1978 when I tried to be a bridge of information between him and the U.S. government, which for many years before and after refused to have any direct contacts with him or his staff. I was never Arafat's agent in any sense, although twice during the hostage crisis in Iran, at the request of the State Department, I relayed messages requesting Arafat to block PLO plans for showdown votes in the UN Security Council. On those occasions, I did not talk personally with Arafat, but communicated through one his aides. On both occasions, Arafat complied with the U.S. request. On another occasion in 1980, I relayed a U.S. request that led to the release of several female U.S. embassy employees hostages in Teheran. I must note, with regret and resentment, that the U.S. government never acknowledged Arafat's cooperation on these occasions.

In dealing personally with Arafat, my hope was simply to improve understanding of the U.S. government by Arafat and vice versa. My efforts fell on deaf ears at the White House but evoked harsh, relentless criticism on Capitol Hill and in certain quarters back home.

After leaving Congress, I met Arafat five more times. The first two meetings were in Baghdad, during a period when the U.S. government supported Saddam Hussein in his bloody war with Iran. Both times, we met in a guest quarters the Iraqi government provided Arafat during his frequent, lengthy visits. During one, a loud pop caused all of us, including Arafat, to jump. The pop proved to be caused by a faulty light bulb.

After a dinner program in New York City observing the 50th anniversary of the United Nations, Arafat came to the table where I was seated. To my surprise, he embraced me warmly in a prolonged Arab hug, then led me to his suite where I joined in a discussion of peace prospects and plans at Bethlehem for the 2,000th anniversary of Christ's birth.

Other meetings were brief. In September 1993, President Clinton hosted a meeting of Arafat and Israeli prime minister Yitzak Rabin on the south lawn of the White House for the signing of what was heralded as a peace agreement. After the signing and famous handshake, Arafat invited several people, including former UN Ambassador Andrew Young and myself, to his hotel suite. It was a jovial, optimistic discussion.

Our last meeting was in dusty, biblical Jericho in 2000 when I accompanied a group of young leaders from many countries on a tour of the Occupied Territories. I sat next to Arafat as he fielded questions. He remained seated during the entire meeting, his knees and lips trembling uncontrollably. He was a sick man. Unlike all of our other meetings, this one provided no opportunity for private discussion.

Among my Arafat souvenirs is a handsome hand-carved rosewood statue of a woman. The Palestinian leader wanted me to deliver it as his gift to Robert Strauss, then serving as President Carter's special emissary to the Middle East. I knew from earlier discussions that Strauss had been denied the authority to meet directly with Arafat. Strauss sent word that he could not accept the statue. It remains on my office mantle.

In 1980, I sustained a strong challenge in the Republican primary by David Nuessen, then mayor of Quincy and now a good friend. Using full page newspaper ads, Nuessen focused heavily on my meetings with Arafat. I was represented as "terrorist" Arafat's best friend in Congress. Except for the word "terrorist," it was probably an accurate statement but not one that would elicit support for me on election day.

During the campaign, I received a surprise letter from Arafat in which he wrote: "Your adversary, David Nuessen, tries to defame you because of your relations with us. But God will always be with you, because you are dedicated to a cause of justice...." My Democratic opponent that November and a different one two years later continued the pounding.

During those years, I found it almost impossible to have a civilized discussion of Yasser Arafat on Capitol Hill or any place else in the United States.

Even today, 23 years after my congressional departure, I find the public perception of Arafat as a terrorist is as strong as ever. Just last week, a medical technician, winced as if in pain when my association with Arafat was mentioned by a friend seated nearby. On November 4, when Arafat's illness became critical, a CNN commentator reported that Arafat continued to sponsor terrorism while rejecting constructive Israeli peace proposals. She made no mention of Arafat's frequent statements disapproving of suicide bombings, or of the fact that no Palestinian leader could be expected to accept the strictures in the Israeli proposals the reporter described as constructive. To millions, no doubt, Arafat remains a terrorist.

Western historians may never accord Yasser Arafat the honor, but I believe he ranks with Mohandas Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and Martin Luther King, Jr., as a great champion of human rights. He has made mistakes, of course, but, like the other champions I mention, he persevered against heavy odds with uncompromising singleness of purpose in his quest for the dignity and rights of abused Palestinians. In a fundamental way, Arafat's tactics differed from Gandhi, Mandela, and King. Despite bloody, lethal opposition, the three preached and practiced non-violent resistance as the route to their historic successes.

Arafat did not. Given local circumstances, perhaps he could not. In fact, from the inception of the Palestine Liberation Organization [PLO] until his death, Arafat considered himself the commander-in-chief of the ragged, poorly armed, poorly organized military forces of the movement, even during his long exile from Palestinian territory. Once during his exile, I asked him if he was able to communicate regularly with the resistance uprising ongoing in the Occupied Territories. His answer, perhaps a bit exaggerated, "I am in direct command day by day and hour by hour."

To Arafat, the violence he frequently authorized was never terrorism but the lawful right of a people to struggle forcibly to evict an occupying power.

Was he a terrorist? If so, the colonists who rebelled against King George in 1776 deserve the same label.

Was he a great leader? By any reasonable standard, the answer must be affirmative. He was also a remarkable survivor. Often in the cross-hairs of the assassin, he had at least the proverbial nine lives. Once he survived a violent plane crash in North Africa. Before the crash, his aides tied him up in every blanket and pillow they could find. When the plane crashed, the fuselage broke in two parts. Arafat walked away without serious injury.

Did I regret being Arafat's "best friend in Congress"? Never, not for a fleeting moment, even though this association clearly was a major factor in my defeat in 1982. I consider it a badge of honor to stand with a freedom fighter.

He will be remembered with tears and moaning by most Palestinians, although some accused him of corruption and ineptitude. Others long wanted him to turn leadership over to younger hands. But most of the world's population will remember him with gratitude for his valiant struggle. Even historians in America will be hard put to deny him a bright page in the chapter on freedom fighters.

With their high-tech weaponry, Israeli officials could have assassinated Arafat at will. They tried and failed when he was exiled in Tunis, but they have turned away from hundreds of opportunities since. Perhaps they concluded that troublesome as he was, his successor might be worse. They will likely soon find out.