“Mr. President, Mr. Palestine”

By Paul Findley

The eve of the 50th birthday party of the United Nations. In one hotel President Yasser Arafat would soon be honored at a dinner to raise funds for hospitals in the Gaza Strip, a principal part of the emerging Palestinian National Authority. In the days following he would be applauded by distinguished audiences in both New York and Boston but insulted and scorned by New York City Mayor Rudolph Giuliani.

Across the street that night the mayor would host a dinner for 150 of the heads of government converging in New York for the birthday party. Arafat, an ardent non-communist who is pressing for the election of a democratic legislature in the new Palestine, and Fidel Castro, Cuba's communist dictator, would be conspicuous by their absence. They were not invited.

Security is intense. Small wonder, considering the concentration of global political power within one city block. Guests at the Arafat dinner circle halfway around the exterior of the Vista Hotel building, then move slowly through three metal detectors where pockets are emptied and purses and other bags scrutinized by security officers.

A few minutes after the crowd assembled in the banquet hall, a burst of applause exploded into a roar amid rhythmic clapping as Arafat, one of the world's best known, most recognizable, and durable political personalities, stepped to the dais.

The thousand-plus dinner guests were on their feet chanting and clapping. No exceptions, even among those who, during the long process of gaining entry to the hall, had shared their misgivings about the agreement Arafat had signed a few weeks earlier with the late Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. Some had complained of press restrictions, others muttered about autocratic rule, and still others used the sullen term, sellout.

But now they were saluting the world's pre-eminent warrior for Palestinian justice, the man who had left his profession as an engineer and in the wake of the June 1967 Arab-Israeli war organized the oldest and most numerous Palestine liberation group. He had formed Fatah, then made it the centerpiece within a political tent broad enough to accommodate all factions of the Palestinian people, ranging from pacifists to bomb-throwers. Flanked by platoons of security people, Arafat smiled, saluted, hugged, and raised his right hand in victory signs as the meal and speaking program progressed.

When his turn came to speak, Arafat began in English, "for the benefit of our guests," but a few sentences later switched to Arabic, a shift that no one minded. It is the favorite language of most of the diners, and those who did not understand nevertheless enjoyed a virtuoso speaking performance. It needed no translation.

Arafat has that rare ability to speak directly to the heart and warm the spirits of even his critics and those unfamiliar with Arabic.

Midway through his Arabic discourse, a woman in the audience shouted a question. Arafat responded: "Patience. I will come to your point." Arafat nevertheless stuck to his own theme, perhaps forgetting what the woman demanded, but no one, including the female challenger, cared. Soon the entire audience was unified, showing its appreciation and support with shouts, handclaps and roars.

When he finished, to the dismay of the security officers, Arafat invited all those who wished a souvenir picture to come to the adjoining reception room. For more than an hour, Arafat smiled with couples and singles, one after another. Waiters and some security guards joined the lineup. In itself, the photo session was an arduous undertaking—a thousand hugs and smiles amid endless camera flashes.

Among those waiting eagerly in line were several who a few hours earlier had grumbled about Arafat's leadership.

His reception that evening demonstrated why Arafat has remained the unchallenged leader of the Palestinian cause through almost two generations.

The Unchallenged Leader

When the photo session ended, Arafat, still surrounded by security guards, led me by the hand to a service elevator and a quiet discussion in a room thirty floors above. We had met five times earlier, but this was special. Always before, he was Mr. Chairman. Now he was Mr. President.

He selected a small, straight-backed chair and pulled it next to mine. He was quiet for a moment, giving me time to study his face. It showed the burden of years, a contrast to the bare-headed smiling Arafat I had first met in Syria 17 years years before. At our second meeting, also in Damascus, his cheerful bodyguard and close friend had just lost his life in a car bombing. After our third meeting in Baghdad, his chief lieutenant was assassinated in his Tunis residence. After our fourth meeting, Arafat himself had miraculously escaped death in an airplane crash in the North African desert.

He lives a charmed life. By his own account, before the peace process began, Arafat had been the assassination target of Israeli intelligence forces more than 20 times. Now he was Israel's partner in a quest for peace, veteran of hundreds of hours of intense negotiation.

Over the years his stubble—another trademark—had changed gradually from black to gray. Now his chin whiskers are white. My seatmate had experienced enough bloodshed, heartache, and suffering for a thousand lives. Before we talked, I gave him a few gifts for his wife and infant daughter. "I have so little time to see them," he lamented.

Now that he is free from travel restrictions, I urged, he should spend as much time as possible in the United States presenting his case for statehood through nationwide television—the sure way to reach the American people. I predicted that the popular television talk shows, always eager for new personalities and issues, would welcome him. His charm, wit and sincerity are infectious, and his distinctive attire is intriguing. His halting use of English and occasional slips into Arabic make his message all the more riveting.

Although he needed no reminder, I said most Americans remain uninformed about the vital responsibility of the U.S. government, as Israel's partner, for the plight of the Palestinians. And while America, like other societies, is not free from bigotry, most of our citizens are fair-minded, want to do the right thing, and have sympathy for the oppressed.

Ahead for Arafat in the United States would be bewildering contrasts. At a city-sponsored symphony concert, New York City Mayor Giuliani required Arafat's departure. Of this monumental, stupid discourtesy, the mayor said: "I would rather not have someone who was implicated in the murders of Americans." (If a leader had to be ejected, it should have been Prime Minister Rabin for his implication in Israel's murder of 34 U.S. sailors aboard the USS Liberty in l967.) To their great credit, former Mayors Ed Koch and David Dinkins denounced Giuliani's behavior, as did the U.S. State Department.

Happier scenes awaited him. After three noisy troublemakers were removed, New York Jewish leaders provided a respectful audience for Arafat, who reminded them that Palestinians are also "sons of Abraham" and therefore "cousins" of all Jews. He added, "We are not only cousins, we are partners." When the troublemakers left, Arafat shook his head and said, "I can understand all of this." He said Israeli Prime Minister Rabin is lucky, having only one opposition. "I have many oppositions."

At Harvard University, Arafat received cheers from the university president and hundreds of its faculty and student body. Speaking of Jerusalem, he said the city could serve as the capital of both Israel and Palestine. Arafat asked, "Why not Jerusalem as the capital of two states, with no Berlin Wall? United, open, coexistence, living together." The crowd stood and applauded.

Former Illinois Congressman Paul Findley was a Republican member of the House of Representatives for 22 years. Now living in Jacksonville, IL, and serving as chairman of the Council for the National Interest in Washington, DC, he has written two books about the Arab-Israeli Dispute: They Dare to Speak Out: People and Institutions Confront Israel's U.S. Lobby, and Deliberate Deceptions: Facing the Facts About the U.S.-Israeli Relationship.