I was shown into the editor’s office. Heikal is a short, lean man, handsome in the way that certain actors of the Thirties who played suave villains with pencil moustaches were handsome. He smokes cigars. He gives an impression of great energy. He shook my hand; then he darted back to his desk where he was correcting proofs of an editorial. Would I mind? He always liked to go over them at the last minute. He made marginal notes. He puffed cigar smoke. He is an actor, I decided, giving a performance: Malraux without genius. He has the half-challenging, half-placating manner of those men who are close to a prince.
I waited patiently for quite a few minutes. Finally, he slapped his pencil down with a flourish. He was mine. I asked him how many printer’s errors he had found. “Eight,” he said precisely, “but mostly I like to change at the last minute.” I mentioned Daedalus and birth control. “A problem,” he said. They were doing their best, of course, but it would take twenty years to educate the people. It was a formidable task.
I then made the error of referring to The Philosophy of the Revolution as his book. “My book? My book? It is Nasser’s book.” I said that I had thought it was at least a joint effort. “You’ve been reading Robert St. John’s The Boss,” which indeed I had. “Well, that is not the only mistake in that book,” he said drily. I remarked that it was neither shameful nor unusual for politicians to be helped in their literary work. Even President Kennedy had once been accused of having used a ghost to write an entire book. “Yes,” said Heikal knowledgeably, “but Sorensen works for Kennedy. I don’t work for Nasser. He is my friend. My leader. But I don’t work for him.” He discussed American politics for a moment; he was the only Egyptian politician or editor I met who knew much about American affairs. I mentioned the recent letter Kennedy had written to Nasser, a personal letter whose contents were more or less known to everyone. Nasser had been sufficiently moved to answer Kennedy personally, not going through the usual Foreign Office machinery. This exchange had been much discussed in Cairo. It was believed that a new era had begun; that the two young presidents would understand one another. But the crux to the renewed dialogue was unchanged: What about Israel? Was there a solution to the Arab-Israel conflict?
“None,” said Heikal firmly, ending all debate. “How can there be?” Before I could stop him, he was off in full tirade. I was reminded of 1948, of the seven hundred thousand Arabs driven from their Palestinian homes, of the predatoriness of Israeli foreign policy, and how it is written on the wall of the Knesset that there would one day be a Jewish empire from the Mediterranean to the Euphrates. He spoke of Jewish ingratitude. “The Arabs are the only people never to persecute Jews,” he said with some accuracy. “English, French, Germans, Spanish, at one time or another every country in Europe persecuted them, but never we. During the last war, we were friends to them. Then they do this! They dispossess Arabs from their homes. They move into a land which isn’t theirs. The Jews,” he said, with a note of triumph, “are not a race, they’re a religion.” There is nothing quite so chilling as to hear a familiar phrase in a new context. I relished it. “They are Europeans,” he said grimly, coming to the point, “setting themselves up in our world. No, there is no solution!” But then he became reasonable. “The real fault of course is our weakness, and their strength. Our policy now is to build up Egypt. Perhaps when we are stronger economically there will be less to fear from the Israelis.” This seems to be current Egyptian policy.
We discussed Nasser’s “Arab socialism.” Heikal was emphatic: it was not doctrinaire socialism. It was improvisational. Point-to-point navigation, as it were. I said that despite some of the methods used to expropriate businesses, there was no doubt that some kind of socialism was inevitable for Egypt and that Nasser had merely done the inevitable. But Heikal would not accept this small compliment. “Methods? Methods? You make us sound like Stalin, with your ‘methods’!” I said I had not meant to compare Nasser to Stalin. He cut me off. “What we do is legal. Open. It is for the people. How can you accuse us of ‘methods’…” This time I cut him off. With some irritation, I told him that I had no intention of repeating the various horror stories told me by those who had been ruined by his government, their businesses seized, their livelihoods ended. Even allowing for the natural exaggeration of victims, such methods were not apt to please those who were ruined by them. Nor was it only the large corporations which had been nationalized. Innumerable small businesses had also been taken over. An owner would come to work one morning to find an army officer sitting at his desk, directing what had been his business the day before.
Heikal was scornful. “So we take their money. So they are not happy. So what? At least they are still alive! That’s something!” He felt this showed great restraint on the part of the government and perhaps he was right. I was reminded of Joseph Stalin’s answer to Lady Astor when she asked him, “When are you going to stop killing people?” “The undesirable classes,” said the tyrant, turning upon her his coldest eye, “never liquidate themselves.”
Wanting to needle Heikal—an irresistible impulse—I said I didn’t think that the endlessly vituperative style of Egypt’s newspapers was very apt to win them any friends. Israel is the principal victim of these attacks, but any government which does not momentarily please Nasser will get the full treatment from the Arab press and radio.
Heikal took my question personally, as well he might. His voice slipped automatically into the singsong of rhetoric and denunciation. “We write this way because we feel this way. How can we help it? How can we be asked not to say what we feel so strongly? Take the British, I hate the British. I can’t help it. I saw them. I know them. Their contempt for us. Their treachery. And over Suez they were not…kind.” This was an unexpected word. “You came into Suez with force.” “They,” I murmured. “You tried to destroy us.” “They,” I said somewhat more loudly. “All right,” he said irritably, the tide of his rhetoric briefly stemmed. “They wanted to destroy us. So how can we feel anything but hate for them? Look what they did to the Arab world after 1918. They brought back the kings, the sheiks, to keep us medieval. As if we were to occupy England and restore the lords, break the country up into Saxon kingdoms. So how can we express ourselves in any way except the way we do?” Like most rhetorical questions, no answer was desired.
Actually, the fulminating style is inherent in the language (vide the Old Testament). Semitic languages are curiously suited to the emotional tirade, even when the speaker is not himself an emotional man. By nature Nasser is an unemotional speaker. As a rule he will bore his audiences for an hour or two, droning on sensibly about the state of the nation. Then when he is in danger of losing them entirely, he allows the language to do its natural work; he proposes that all Egypt’s enemies “choke in their rage” as well as other gaudy sentiments calculated to keep his torpid audience awake. Yet to give Nasser his due he is, verbally, one of the most continent of Arab leaders.
Heikal reverted to Israel. Did I realize that thirty-eight percent of their budget went for the military as opposed to thirteen percent of Egypt’s budget? Having spent several days poring over the Egyptian budget, I was surprised that anyone could have come up with any figure for any department. The only ascertainable fact is that Egypt is flat broke. But I accepted his figures. I did remark that it must be distressing for Israel—for any country—to be reminded daily that its neighbors, once they awaken from their “deep slumber,” will drive them into the sea. After all, no one wants to be drowned. Heikal shook his head sadly: didn’t I realize that the Israeli military expenditure was for offense, not defense? I asked him point-blank: “Do you think Israel is planning an offensive war against Egypt?” He shrugged. I then mentioned his own press’s continual reminder of Israel’s financial dependence on the United States. This being true, did he really think that the United States would permit Israel to embark on a military adventure? We had effectively stopped Israel, France, and England at the time of Suez. Did he honestly believe that we would now allow Israel, b
y itself, to launch an attack on Egypt? He edged away. No, he did not think the United States would allow a unilateral action. “But,” he added quickly, “you can’t blame us for being on guard.” Then again he reverted to what is the government’s present line: we must strengthen Egypt, concentrate on home problems, create “Arab socialism,” become a model for the rest of the Arab world.
As I left, I told him that if I saw Nasser at the end of the week I was perfectly willing to present to the American public Egypt’s case against Israel, just as Egypt would like it presented. Partly out of a sense of mischief (we hear altogether too much of the other side) and partly out of a sense of justice, I thought that the Arab case should be given attention in the American press. As of now it has been disregarded. In fact, a few years ago the Egyptians, despairing of ever seeing their cause presented impartially in the usual “news” columns, tried to buy an advertisement in The New York Times. They were turned down. As a result, the Egyptians are somewhat cynical about our “free press.” They are also quite aware that when Israel was being founded in 1948 and the Arabs protested to Harry Truman, he told them with characteristic bluntness: “I do not have hundreds of thousands of Arabs among my constituents.” Heikal laughed when I told him that the Arab point of view might one day be given in the American national press. “Your press would never let you,” he said with finality, as one journalist to another. “Don’t even try.”
Another week passed. More appointments were made with Nasser. Each was broken at the last minute, and I was advised to be patient. He would see me soon. But then the Syrian comedy began, disrupting Nasser’s schedule. The President of Syria was removed by some army colonels in Damascus. A few days later the young captains in Aleppo tried to overthrow the older officers in Damascus who had overthrown the president. The young men in Aleppo declared that they were for Nasser; they wanted union again with Egypt. Was Nasser behind this plot? Some think yes. Some think no. I suspect no. As one of his closest advisers said, with what seemed candor: “We don’t even know these boys in Aleppo. They’re much younger than our group.” It is protocol in the Middle East that only colonels may start revolutions. Generals are too old, captains too young. In any case, the colonels in Damascus triumphed over the captains in Aleppo and then in a marvelous gesture of frustration the colonels restored the president they had overthrown in the first place. There was no one else, apparently, available for the job. But by the time this comedy had run its course I had fled Egypt, though just as I was getting on the plane to Beirut there was yet another telephone message from the president’s office: “His Excellency will definitely see you tomorrow.” But I was ready to go, shamefully demonstrating the difference between the amateur and the professional journalist. The professional would have remained, as Hans Von Kaltenborn once remained six weeks, to obtain an interview with Nasser. The amateur moves on.
“The Arabs are their own worst enemies,” said a foreign diplomat in Beirut. “They can’t present anything to anyone without undermining themselves. They are self-destructive. In fact, many of them actually believe that since this world is a mess, why bother to alter it when what really matters is the Paradise to come.” I was reminded of the Koran, where it is written that “The life of the world is only play and idle talk and pageantry.”
The Arabs’ religion contributes greatly to the difficulties they are experiencing in the modern world. Americans tend to believe, in a vague, soupy way, that all religion is A Good Thing. Richard Nixon was much applauded when he said that a man’s religion should never be a matter of concern in politics, unless of course he had no religion. Nixon shook his head gravely on that one. Yet some religions are more useful than others, and some religions are downright dangerous to the human spirit and to the building of a good society.
To understand the Arab world one must understand the Koran, a work Goethe described as “A holy book which, however often we approach it, always disgusts us anew, but then attracts, and astonishes and finally compels us to respect it.” It is a remarkable work which I shall not go into here except to note that its Five Pillars are: (1) the creed; (2) the prayer; (3) the fast; (4) the pilgrimage to Mecca; (5) almsgiving. One unfortunate result of the last: the holiness which accrues to almsgivers has fostered a demoralizing tradition of beggars. Also, in requesting aid of other countries, the Arab nations are profoundly self-righteous and demanding, on the high moral ground that they are doing the giver a favor by taking his money and making him more holy. The result has been that until very recently American aid to Egypt was almost never acknowledged in the press or noted in any other way, except by complaints that the giver, if he weren’t so selfish, ought to come through with ever more cash, making himself that much worthier in Allah’s eyes. In any event, no quo for the quid is Arab policy, as both the Soviet and ourselves have discovered.
I found myself continually asking diplomats, journalists, and old Arab hands: Why should we give any aid to Egypt? What do we gain by it? What should we get from it? Answers were never very precise. Naturally, there was “the Soviet threat.” If we don’t help Egypt, the Russians will and the Middle East will come into “the Soviet sphere.” For a number of reasons this is not likely to happen. Soviet policy in the Arab world has been even more unsuccessful than our own. In 1956, after jailing the local Communists (while accepting Soviet aid for the High Dam), Nasser said quite explicitly: “The Communists have lost faith in religion, which in their opinion is a myth…. Our final conclusion is that we shall never repudiate it in exchange for the Communist doctrine.” The Muslim world and the Marxist world are an eternity apart. Paradise here and now on earth, as the result of hard work and self-sacrifice, is not a congenial doctrine to the Arab. Also, of some importance is the Egyptian’s human response to the Russians: they find them austere, dogmatic, and rather alarming.
One is also reminded that whether Nasser chooses to be absorbed by the Soviet bloc or not, at a time of chaos the Soviets might move in and take the country by force. This drastic shift in the world balance of power is not easy to visualize. The Soviets, already overextended financially, are not apt to take on (any more than we are) the burden of governing a starving Egypt. But if they did, it is unlikely that they would then shut down the Suez Canal (England’s old nightmare), since, after cotton, the canal is the main source of Egypt’s revenue. I would suggest that the strategic value of Egypt to the West is very small, and it merely turns Nasser’s head and feeds his sense of unreality for us to pretend that Egypt is of great consequence. Yet it is of some consequence, especially now.
The principal source of irritation between Nasser and the United States is Israel, a nation in which we have a large economic and emotional interest. But I got the impression from members of the Egyptian government that the continual tirades against Israel are largely for home consumption. Nations traditionally must have the Enemy to prod them into action. President Kennedy finds it difficult to get any large appropriation bill through our Congress unless he can first prove that it will contribute to the holy war against Communism. Once he has established that he is indeed striking a blow at the Enemy, he can get any money he needs, whether it is to explore the moon or to give assistance to the public schools. In the same way, Nasser needs the idea of Israel to goad his own people into the twentieth century.
Nasser once said to Miles Copeland, “If you want the cooperation of any Middle Eastern leader you must first understand his limitations—those limitations placed on him by the emotions and suspicions of the people he leads—and be reconciled to the fact that you can never ask him to go beyond those limitations. If you feel you must have him go beyond them, you must be prepared to help him lessen the limitations.” A most rational statement of any politician’s dilemma; and one which Dulles in his blithely righteous way ignored, causing Nasser to observe with some bitterness in 1956: “Dulles asked me to commit suicide.” National leaders are always followers of public opinion. No matter how well-intentioned they might be privately, they are l
imited by those they govern. Paradoxically, this is truest of dictators.
Our current policy toward Nasser is sympathetic. It is hard to say to what extent he can or will respond, but it is evident that he is trying. His value to us is much greater now that he has, temporarily, given up hope of leading the Arab world, of becoming the new Saladin. He must make Egypt work first. He is perfectly—sadly—aware that Algeria and Morocco, two Arab nations potentially richer and politically more sophisticated than Egypt, may well provide new leadership for the Muslim world. His only remaining hope is to make “Arab socialism” a success. If it is, then the kings and the sheiks will eventually fall of their own corruption and incompetence, and Nasser’s way will be the Arab’s way.
What is our role? Since 1952 our assistance to Egypt has totaled $705,000,000. Over half this amount was given or lent in the last three years. So far the Egyptian government has been most scrupulous in its interest payments, etc. However, since July, 1961, when Nasser seized most of the nation’s industries and businesses, he has opposed all private investment. The only assistance he will accept (the weak must be firm) is government-to-government, with no political strings. Again, why should we help him?
“Because,” said an American economist, “any aid ties him to us, whether he likes it or not, whether he acknowledges it or not. If we help him build the new power plant in Cairo (with Westinghouse assistance), he will have to come to us in the future for parts and technicians. That’s good business for us. That keeps our economy expanding.” This, of course, is the standard rationale for America’s foreign-aid program, and up to a point it is valid. Today’s empires are held not with the sword but the dollar. It is the nature of the national organism to expand and proliferate. We truly believe that we never wanted a world empire simply because we don’t suffer (since Teddy Roosevelt, at least) from a desire to see Old Glory waving over the parliaments of enslaved nations. But we do want to make a buck. We do want to maintain our standard of living. For good or ill, we have no other true national purpose. There is no passion in America for military glory, at least outside of Texas and Arizona. Our materialistic ethos is made quite plain in the phrase “the American way of life.”