PAUL FINDLEY They Dare to Speak Out 3

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Stilling the Still, Small Voices
The youthful congressman from California listened as his House col­leagues expressed their views. His earnest manner and distinctive shock of hair roused memories of an earlier congressman, John F. Kennedy. For more than an hour, between comments of his own, Representative Paul N. "Pete" McCloskey yielded the floor to othet congressmen, twenty-three in all. While they cooperated by requesting from Speaker Thomas P. "Tip" O'Neill allocations of time for the debate, most of them did so in order to avoid a sticky issue. They were ducking legislative combat, not engaging in it.
Real debate was almost unknown regarding the subject McCloskey had chosen—aid to Israel. Most congressmen, fearing lobby pressure, carefully avoid statements or votes that might be viewed as critical of Israel. Not McCloskey. Admired for his courage and independence, he began opposing the Vietnam war long before most Americans. He withstood the lobbying of Greek Americans to cut off military aid to Turkey, con­sistently supported controversial civil rights measures, and now challenged conventional wisdom on Middle East policy. He and I were members of
5 They Dare to Speak Out
a tiny band of congressmen who were willing to criticize Israel publicly, and both of us would soon leave Capitol Hill involuntarily.
On that June afternoon in 1980, most of McCloskeys colleagues provided him debate time—and joined him in the discussion—because they saw this as the only way to keep him from forcing them to vote on an amendment to cut aid to Israel. Some of them privately agreed with McCloskey s position, but they did not want his amendment to come to a vote. If that happened, they would find themselves in the distressing circumstance of reacting to the pressure of Israel s lobby by voting against McCloskeys amendment—and their own consciences.
In offering his amendment, McCloskey called for an end to the building of Israeli settlements in the territory in the West Bank of the Jordan River, which Israel held by force of arms.1 To put pressure on Israel to stop, he wanted the United States to cut aid by $150 million— the amount he estimated Israel was annually spending on these projects. In the end, tough realities led him to drop his plan to bring the amend­ment to a vote:
Friend and foe alike asked me not to press the amendment. Some of my friends argued that if I did get a roll call, the amendment would have been badly defeated. If that happened, they argued, Israel would take heart—say­ing "Sure, somebody spoke out, but look how we smashed him." Every Jew­ish congressman on the floor of the House told me privately that I was right.2
Representative James Johnson, a Republican from Colorado and one of the few to support McCloskey, was aware of the pressure other con­gressmen were putting on him.3 Johnson declared that many of his col­leagues privately opposed Israels expansion of settlements, but said that Congress was "incapable" of taking action contrary to Israeli policy: "I would just like to point out the real reason that this Congress will not deal with the gentleman's amendment is because [it] concerns the nation of Israel."
It was not the first time peer pressure had stopped amendments viewed as anti-Israeli, and McCloskey was not the first to back down to accommodate colleagues. Such pressure develops automatically when amendments restricting aid to Israel are discussed. Many congressmen are embarrassed by the high level of aid—Israel receives one-third of all U.S. foreign aid—and feel uncomfortable being recorded as favoring it.
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But, intimidated by Israel's friends, they are even less comfortable being recorded in opposition. How much of the lobby's power is real, and how much is illusion, is beside the point. Because they perceive it as real, few congressmen wish to take a chance. Worrying endlessly about polit­ical survival, they say: "Taking on the Israeli lobby is something I can do without. Who needs that?" On several occasions, sensing I was about to force a troublesome vote on aid to Israel, a colleague would whisper to me, "Your position on this is well known. Why put the rest of us on the spot?"
Most committee action, like the work of the full House, is open to the public, and none occurs on Israeli aid without the presence of at least one representative of AIPAC. This ensures that any criticism of Israel will be quickly reported to key constituents. The offending congressman may have a rash of angry telephone messages to answer by the time he returns to his office from the hearing room.
Lobbyists for AIPAC are experts on the personalities and procedures of the House. If Israel is mentioned, even behind closed doors, they quickly get a full report of what transpired. The lobbyists know that a roll call vote on aid to Israel will receive overwhelming support. In fact, administration lobbyists count on this support to carry the day for for­eign aid worldwide. Working together, the two groups of lobbyists pur­sue a common interest by keeping the waters smooth and by frustrating "boat rockers" like McCloskey.
Assaulting the Citadels
For McCloskey, compromise was an unusual experience. Throughout his public career he usually resisted pressures, even when his critics struck harshly.
This was true when he became nationally prominent as a critic of the Vietnam war—an effort that, in 1972, led him to a brief but dramatic campaign for the presidency.4 His goal was a broad and unfettered dis­cussion of public issues, particularly the war. The wrong decisions, he believed, generally "came about because the view of the minority was not heard or the view of thinking people was quiet."5 He contended that the Nixon administration was withholding vital information on a variety of issues. He charged it with "preying on people's fear, hate, and anger."6
5 They Dare to Speak Out
When McCloskey announced his bid for the presidency, his sup­porters sighed, "Political suicide." His opponents, particularly those in the party's right wing, chortled the very same words. Although the Cal-ifornian recognized that his challenge might jeopardize his seat in Con­gress, he nevertheless denounced the continuation of the war: "Like other Americans, I trusted President Nixon when he said he had a plan to end the war."7 McCloskey agonized over the fact that thousands of U.S. sol­diers continued to die, and that U.S. airpower, using horrifying cluster bombs, rained violence on civilians in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia.8
McCloskey knew of war's effects firsthand.9 As a marine in Korea, he was wounded while leading his platoon in one of several successful bayonet assaults on entrenched enemy positions. He emerged from the Korean war with a Navy Cross, a Silver Star, and two Purple Hearts. He later explained that this wartime experience gave him "a strong sense of being lucky to be alive."10 It also toughened him for subsequent assaults on entrenched enemies of a different sort—endeavors that brought no medals for bravery.
For protesting the war, McCloskey was branded "an enemy of the political process," and even accused of communist leanings.11 "At least fifty right-wing members of the House believe McCloskey to be the new Red menace," wrote one journalist.12 The allegation was ridiculous, of course, but party stalwarts in California clearly were restive. So much so, according to the California Journal, that McCloskey "needed the per­sonal intervention of then Vice President Gerald R. Ford to save him in the 1974 primary."
His maverick ways exacted a price. He was twice denied a place on the Ways and Means Committee.13 Conservatives on the California del­egation rebuffed the liberal Republican's bid for membership, even though he was entitled to the post on the basis of seniority.
By the time of his ill-fated 1980 amendment on aid to Israel, McCloskey had put himself in the midst of the Middle East controversy. After a trip to the Middle East in 1979, he concluded that new Israeli policies were not in America's best interests. He was alarmed over Wash­ington's failure to halt Israel's construction of West Bank settlements— which the administration itself had labeled illegal—and to stop Israel's illegal use of U.S.-supplied weapons. The congressman asked, "Why?"
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The article appeared shortly before McCloskey's bid for his party's nomination for the 1982 senatorial race in California. It was an
The answer was not hard to find. The issue, like most relating to the Middle East, was too hot for either Congress or the White House to handle. A call for debate provoked harsh press attacks and angry con­stituent mail. To McCloskey, the attacks were ironic. He viewed him­self as supportive of both Jewish and Israeli interests. As a college student at Stanford University in 1948, he had helped lead a success­ful campaign to open Phi Delta Theta fraternity for the first time to Jewish students.14 He reminded a critic, Earl Raab of San Francisco's Jewish Bulletin, that he had "voted for all the military and economic assistance we have given to Israel in the past."15 McCloskey also vigor­ously defended Israel's right to lobby: "Lobbying is and should be an honorable and important part of the American political process."16 He described the American Israel Public Affairs Committee as "the most powerful [lobby] in Washington," and insisted that there was "nothing sinister or devious" about it.
Still, McCloskey had raised a provocative question: "Does Amer­ica's 'Israeli lobby' wield too much influence?"17 In an article for the Los Angeles Times he provided his answer: "Yes, it is an obstacle to real Mideast peace." McCloskey cited the risk of nuclear confrontation in the Middle East and the fundamental differences between the interests of Israel and the United States. He observed that members of the Jewish community demand that Congress support Israel in spite of these dif­ferences. This demand, he argued, "coupled with the weakness of Con­gress in the face of any such force, can prevent the president, in his hour of both crisis and opportunity, from having the flexibility necessary to achieve a lasting Israeli-Palestinian peace."
He pleaded for full discussion:
If the United States is to work effectively toward peace in the Mideast, the power of this lobby must be recognized and countered in open and fair debate. I had hoped that the American Jewish community had matured to the point where its lobbying efforts could be described and debated with­out raising the red flag of anti-Semitism. ... To recognize the power of a lobby is not to criticize the lobby itself.
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I hesitate to use the term that he was anti-Semitic. Being anti-Israeli is a political decision. Being anti-Semitic is something totally different. I think he did not just creep over the boundary.
unorthodox opening salvo, to say the least, and most of the reaction was critical. One of the exceptions was an analysis by California's Redlands Daily Facts, which called his campaign a "brave but risky business."18 The newspaper described him as "the candidate for those who want a man with whom they will disagree on some issues, but who has the courage of his intelligent convictions."
On the other hand, Paul Greenberg, in a syndicated article in the San Francisco Examiner, wrote that McCloskey had accused the Israeli lobby of "busily subverting the national interest," and he linked him with notorious anti-Semite Gerald L. K. Smith.19 This time, McCloskey did not need to fight back. A few days later, the same newspaper pub­lished an opposing view.20 Columnist Guy Wright noted that Greenberg had accused McCloskey of McCarthy-era tactics without quoting "a sin­gle line from the offensive speech." Wright observed that this was itself a common tactic of McCarthyism. He cited with approval several of McCloskeys recommendations on foreign policy and concluded: "Now I ask you. Are those the ravings of an anti-Semite? Or fair comment on issues too long kept taboo?"
Such supportive voices were few. An article in the B'nai B'rith Mes­senger charged that McCloskey had proposed that all rabbis be required to register as foreign agents, declaring that he had made the proposal in a meeting with the editors of the Los Angeles Times.2' The author assured his readers that the tidbit came from a "very reliable source," and the charge was published nationally. The charge was a complete fabrica­tion, and Times editor Tony Day was quick to back up McCloskeys denial.22
The Messenger published a retraction a month later, but the accusa­tion lingered on.23 The Washington office of the Israeli lobby was appar­ently not even aware of the retraction. In an interview about McCloskey two years later, Douglas Bloomfield, legislative director for AIPAC, repeated the accusation as fact.24 Such false information may have col­ored his view of McCloskey, whom he described as "bitter" with "an intense sense of hostility" toward Jews:
Stilling the Still, Small Voices 5
Despite the Messengers retraction, there was no letup in criticism of McCloskey. The Messenger charged McCloskey with denigrating "the Constitutional exercise of petitioning Congress," with "obstreperous per­formances," and with marching on a "platform of controversy unmindful of the fact that the framework of his platform is dangerously undermined with distortion, inaccuracy, and maybe even malicious mischief."25 Another Jewish publication published his picture with the caption, "Heir to Goebbels."26 An article in the Heritage Southwest Jewish Press used such descriptive phrases as "No. 1 sonovabitch," "obscene position against the Jews of America," "crummy," and "sleazy" in denouncing him.27
Although used to rough and tumble partisanship, McCloskey was shocked by the harshness of the attacks. No rabbis or Jewish publications defended him. One of a small number of individual Jews who spoke up on his behalf was Merwyn Morris, a prominent businessman from Ather-ton, California. Morris argued that "McCloskey is no more anti-Semitic than I am"—but he still switched his support to McCloskey's opponent in the senatorial election.28
Josh Teitelbaum, who had served for a short time on McCloskey's staff and was the son of a Palo Alto rabbi, resigned from McCloskey's staff partly because he disagreed with the congressman's attitude toward Israel. But he also defended his former employer: "McCloskey is not anti-Semitic, but his words may give encouragement to those who are."29
McCloskey's views on Israel complicated—to put it mildly—cam­paign fund-raising.30 Potential sources of Jewish financial support dried up. One former supporter, Jewish multimillionaire Louis E. Wolfson, wrote: "I now find that I must join with many other Americans to do everything possible to defeat your bid for the U.S. Senate and make cer­tain that you will not hold any future office."31
Early in the race, when McCloskey was competing mainly with Sen­ator S. I. Hayakawa for the nomination, he felt he had a chance. Both were from the northern part of the state, where McCloskey had his great­est strength. After Hayakawa dropped out and Pete Wilson, the popu­lar mayor of San Diego, entered the contest, McCloskey's prospects decreased.
When the primary election votes were counted, McCloskey had won the North but lost the populous South. He finished 10 percentage points behind Wilson. Still, his showing surprised the experts. Polls and
5 They Dare to Speak Out
forecasters had listed him third or fourth among the four contenders right up to the last days. Congressman Barry Goldwater, Jr., the early favorite, emerged a poor third, and Robert Dornan, another congres­sional colleague, finished fourth.
The final tally on election day was close enough to cause a number of people to conclude that without the Jewish controversy McCloskey might have won. All three of McCloskeys opponents received Jewish financial support. Stephen S. Rosenfeld, deputy editorial page editor of the Washington Post, drew a definite conclusion: "Jewish political par­ticipation" had defeated McCloskey.
The lobby attack did not end when the polls closed, nor did McCloskey shun controversy. On September 22, 1982, a few days after the massacre of almost two thousand Palestinians in the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps near Beirut, McCloskey denounced a proposed new $50 million grant for Israel in a speech on the House floor.32 He warned that the action "might be taken as a signal of our support for what Israel did last Thursday in entering West Beirut and creating the circumstances which led directly to the massacre." Despite his protest, the aid was approved.
In the closing hours of the Ninety-seventh Congress, after fifteen years as a member of "this treasured institution," McCloskey invoked George Washington's Farewell Address in his own farewell, citing the first president's warning that "a passionate attachment of one nation for another produces a variety of evils."33 McCloskey found this advice "emi­nently sound" and said that Congress, in action completed the day before, had demonstrated a "passionate attachment" to Israel by voting more aid per capita to that country "than we allow to many of the poor and unemployed in our own country," despite evidence that "Israel is no longer behaving like a friend of the United States."
McCloskeys Academic Freedom
With his political career interrupted, if not ended, McCloskey planned to return to a partnership in the Palo Alto law firm he had helped to establish with John Wilson, a fellow graduate of Yale Law School, years before. "Many of my old clients are still clients," he said, "and I wanted to go back to them. I never thought of going anywhere else."34
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But others had different thoughts about McCloskey's future. Ken Oshman, president of the Rolm Corporation, the firm's biggest client, warned that his company "might take their law business elsewhere" if McCloskey were to rejoin the firm.35 The senior partners invited McCloskey to lunch. They told him that the episode would not cause them to withdraw their invitation, but that they wanted McCloskey to be "aware of the problem." McCloskey's response: "I don't want to come back and put you under that burden." In a letter to Oshman, McCloskey expressed his dismay. In reply, the industrialist said his company really wouldn't have taken its business elsewhere, but he reiterated his dis­agreement with McCloskey's views on Israel.
McCloskey accepted a partnership with the San Francisco law firm of Brobeck, Phleger & Harrison, but the pressures followed him there.36 The firm received a telephone call from a man in Berkeley, California, who identified himself only as a major shareholder in the Wells Fargo bank, one of the law firm's major clients. He said that he intended to go to the next meeting of the shareholders and demand that the bank trans­fer its law business to another firm. The reason: the San Francisco firm was adding to its partnership a "known anti-Semite" who supported the Palestine Liberation Organization and its chairman, Yasser Arafat. McCloskey's partners ignored the threat, and the bank did not with­draw its business.
A tracking system initiated by the Anti-Defamation League of B'nai B'rith (ADL) assured that McCloskey would have no peace, even as a pri­vate citizen. The group distributed a memorandum containing details of his actions and speeches to its chapters around the country.37 According to the memo, it was designed to "assist" local ADL groups with "coun­teraction guidance" whenever McCloskey appeared in public.
Trouble dogged him even on the campus. McCloskey accepted an invitation from the student governing council of Stanford University to teach a course on Congress at Stanford.38 Howard Goldberg—a council member and also director of the Hillel Center, the campus Jewish club— told the group that inviting McCloskey was "a slap in the face of the Jew­ish community."39 Student leader Seth Linfield held up preparation of class materials, then demanded the right to choose the guest lecturers.40 McCloskey refused, asserting that the young director had earlier assured him he could choose these speakers himself.
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Difficulties mounted as the semester went on. Guest speakers were not paid on time. McCloskey felt obliged to pay such expenses person­ally, then to seek reimbursement. His own remuneration was scaled downward as the controversy developed.41 Instead of the $3,500 stipend originally promised, Linfield later reduced the amount to $2,000, and even that amount was in doubt. According to a report in the San Jose Mercury News, the $2,000 would be paid only if Linfield was satisfied with McCloskeys performance.42 One student, Jeffrey Au, complained to school authorities that the controversy impaired academic quality.43 Responding, Professor Hubert Marshall wrote that he viewed the student activities as "unprecedented and a violation of Mr. McCloskeys aca­demic freedom."44
When the situation was finally resolved—by means of an apology from Provost Albert H. Hastorf—McCloskey told the Peninsula Times Tribune, "Stanford doesn't owe me an apology." He said his satisfaction came when all but one of the fifty students rated his class "in the high range of excellence," but he warned that other schools might face trou­ble. He noted that the American Israel Public Affairs Committee "has instructed college students all over the country to take [similar] actions."
McCloskey Goes to Court
AIPAC's endeavors did not stop McCloskey from seeking out justice in issues related to the Middle East. In 1993, the district attorney of San Francisco released 700 pages of documents implicating the Anti-Defamation League of B'nai B'rith, a major Jewish organization that calls itself "a defender of civil rights," in a vast spying operation. The tar­gets of the ADL operation were American citizens who were opposed to Israel's repression of Palestinians and to the South African government's policy of apartheid. The ADL was also accused of passing on informa­tion to both governments. After experiencing "great political pressure," the district attorney dropped the charges, prompting victims to file a suit against the ADL for violation of their privacy rights. They chose Pete McCloskey as their attorney.
McCloskey and his clients, two of whom were Jews who had been subjected to spying after criticizing Israeli policy in the occupied terri­tories, revealed an extensive operation headed by ADL undercover oper­
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ative Roy Bullock, whose files contained the names of 10,000 individu­als and 600 organizations, including thousands of Arab Americans and national civil rights groups such as the NAACR Much of Bullocks infor­mation was gained illegally from confidential police records. In April 2002, after a nine-year legal battle, McCloskey won a landmark $150,000 court judgment against the ADL. His clients issued the fol­lowing statement:
Many questions must still be answered about the activities of the ADL and its nonprofit status as an "education organization." The settlement offered by the ADL is recognition on its part that it could not afford to go to a trial in front of a jury and face the likelihood that more of its dirty secrets would be revealed.
It Didn't Cripple Us...." But—
While McCloskey, a leader in the white Republican establishment, bat­tled for universal human rights and against further U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War, a black Baptist preacher from the District of Colum­bia, known nationally as a street activist, pursued the same goals within Democratic ranks.
Good friends, both were members of the House of Representatives, and both undertook controversial journeys to Lebanon in behalf of peace. Both paid a price for their activism, but the preacher survived politically, while the ex-marine did not. Their work for justice in the Middle East—not their record of activism for civil rights at home or opposition to the Vietnam War—caused trouble for both of them.
In large measure, Reverend Walter Fauntroy's problems began over another black leader's endeavors for justice in the Middle East. Andrew Young resigned under fire as the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations in August 1979, after it was revealed that he had met with the PLO's UN observer, Zuhdi Labib Terzi. Many blacks were outraged by the resig­nation, blaming it on Israeli pressure and, like Young, found unreason­able the policy that prohibited our officials from talking even informally with PLO officials.45
Relations between American blacks and Jews—longtime allies in the civil rights movement—had already been strained by disagreements over
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affirmative action programs intended to give blacks employment quotas, and by Israel's close relations with the apartheid regime in South Africa. The resignation of Young, the most prominent black in the Carter administration, intensified the strain. "This is the most tense moment in black and Jewish relations in my memory," said the Reverend Jesse Jack­son shortly after Young's resignation.
During the civil rights movement of the 1960s, Fauntroy, one of the blacks most disturbed by the resignation, had worked with Young in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) under Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. They had acquired the nickname "The Brooks Brothers" because of their habit of wearing suits and neckties at civil rights marches, while most of the other participants were dressed more casually.
To show support for Young and disagreement with U.S. policy, Fauntroy and SCLC President Joseph Lowery traveled to New York in the fall of 1979 to meet with Terzi.46 Fauntroy said he hoped to help establish communication between Arabs and Israelis and to promote a nonviolent solution to Middle East problems, adding, "Neither Andy Young nor I, nor other members of the SCLC, apologize for searching for the relevance of Martin Luther King, Jr. s policies in the international political arena."47
While Terzi said he was "happy and gratified" at the meeting with the black leaders and that he hoped "much more will be learned by the American people," prominent members of Washington's Jewish com­munity were upset.48
"I don't think a responsible congressman should have any truck with terrorists," complained Rabbi Stanley Rabinowitz.49 Although many American Jews echoed this sentiment, a few stood by Fauntroy. Promi­nent businessman Joseph B. Danzansky said Fauntroy "has a right to do what he thinks his position entitles him to do."50 Danzansky, a friend and political ally of Fauntroy, added, "I'd be very shocked if there were any trace of anti-Jewish feeling. I have confidence in him as a human being."
In an attempt to calm the critics and demonstrate their "fairness," Fauntroy, Lowery, and other SCLC leaders met with U.S. Jewish lead­ers and with Israel's UN ambassador, Yehuda Blum.51 Afterward, Faun­troy told reporters that the black leaders were "asking both parties [in the Middle East dispute] to recognize each other's human rights and the
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right of self-determination." But pro-Israel interests saw the outcome differently. Howard Squadron, president of the American Jewish Com­mittee, emerged from the meeting to say that SCLC's contact with Terzi was "a grave error, lending legitimacy to an organization committed to terrorism and violence."32
Against this tense background, black leaders from across the United States convened in New York to express their concern ovet Young's resig­nation and to affirm their right to speak out on matters of foreign policy.
Some said they were making "a declaration of independence" in mat­ters of foreign policy.53 Said Fauntroy:
In every war since the founding of this nation, black citizens have borne arms and died for their country. Their blood was spilled from Bunker Hill to Vietnam. It is to be expected that should the United States become drawn into war in the Middle East, black Americans once more will be called upon to sacrifice their lives.54
His words were prophetic of the sacrifices blacks were soon to make in Lebanon. While blacks constitute only 10 percent of the total U.S. population, 20 percent of the marines killed in the terrorist truck bomb­ing in Beirut—47 of 246—were black.
Fauntroy's views led to a loss of financial support from Jewish donors. "It didn't cripple us," says Fauntroy, "it just made us more resourceful and more sensitive to our need to put principle above poli­tics on questions that bear on nonviolence and the quest for justice."55 It hurt fund-raising for his personal campaign: "No question about that. Some of my former close supporters flatly stated to me that they were not going to contribute to my candidacy because I had taken the posi­tion that I did."
He demonstrated his persistence three weeks later when he joined Lowery on a controversial trip to the Middle East. As they departed, Lowery declated their determination to "preach the moral principles of peace, nonviolence, and human rights."56
In a meeting with Yasser Arafat, they appealed for an end to violence, asking the PLO leader to agree to a six-month moratorium on violence. Arafat promised to present the proposal to the PLO's executive council. Fauntroy recalls the dramatic moment, "We asked Dr. Harry Gibson of the United Methodist Church to pray. Then a Roman Catholic priest
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said a prayer in Arabic. We wept. At the end of the prayer, someone—I don't know who—started singing 'We Shall Overcome,' and Arafat immediately crossed his arms and linked hands."57
Some American Jews feared the emotional meeting symbolized a new "black alliance" with the PLO and a betrayal of their own support of civil rights for blacks. They rejected the black leaders' insistence that they were impartial advocates of peace.
At a news conference at his New Bethel Baptist Church, Fauntroy described his mission for peace and said he would persist: "I am first and foremost a minister of the gospel, called to preach every day that God is our father and all men are our brothers, right here from this pul­pit."58 He added: "I could not be true to my highest calling if, when an opportunity to do so arose, I refused." He challenged his critics: "So let anyone who wishes run against me. Let anyone who wishes withdraw his support. It doesn't matter to me."
Reflecting on the problems created by his quest for self-determina­tion of people in the Middle East, as well as in the District of Colum­bia, Fauntroy calls it "a growing experience." He continued to grow through the 1980s as a leading civil rights activist. His act of civil dis­obedience on behalf of the black people of South Africa—he refused to leave the office of the ambassador of South Africa until nine South African labor leaders were released, and was escorted out in handcuffs— focused national attention on the issue. His endeavors helped prompt Congress to impose economic sanctions against South Africa, a step that would eventually lead to the freeing of Nelson Mandela and the end of the apartheid regime.
"Three Calls Within Thirteen Minutes"
Only a few members of the House of Representatives have criticized Israeli policy in recent years, reflecting mainly the vigilance and skill of Israel's U.S. lobby. It reacts swiftly to any sign of discontent with Israel, especially by those assigned to the House Foreign Affairs Committee.
A young man working in 1981 in the office of the late Democratic Congressman Benjamin S. Rosenthal of New York, who was then the leader of the House's "Jewish caucus," witnessed firsthand the efficiency of this monitoring. Michael Neiditch, a staff consultant, was with Rosen­
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thai in his office one morning when, just before 9:00, the phone rang.59 Morris Amitay, then executive director of AIPAC, had just read the Evans and Novak syndicated column that morning in the Washington-Post, and he didn't like what he read.60 The journalists reported that Rosenthal had recently told a group of Israeli visitors: "The Israeli occu­pation of the West Bank is like someone carrying a heavy pack on his back—the longer he carries it, the more he stoops over, but the less he is aware of the burden." Rosenthal had personally related the incident to Robert Novak. Although he used the descriptive image "ever so gently," according to Neiditch, it caused a stir.
Amitay chided Rosenthal for speaking "out of turn." About five minutes later, Ephraim "Eppie" Evron, the Israeli ambassador to the United States, called with the same message. Then, just a few minutes later, Yehuda Hellman of the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations called. Again, the same message. Neiditch remembers that Rosenthal looked over and observed, "Young man, you've just seen the Jewish lobby's muscles flex." Neiditch recalls: "It was three calls within thirteen minutes."
Another senior committee member, an Ohio congressman who was more independent of Israel's interests than Rosenthal, nevertheless found his activities closely watched. Republican Charles Whalen felt the pres­sure of the lobby when he accepted a last-minute invitation to attend a February 1973 conference in London on the Middle East.61 It was held under the auspices of the Ford Foundation. No Israeli representative was present, but to his surprise, on his return to Washington, Whalen was called on by an Israeli lobby official who demanded all of the meeting's details—the agenda, those present, why Whalen went, and why Ford had sponsored it.
Whalen recalled, "It was just amazing. They never let up." Whalen believed it was the last such conference Ford sponsored. "They got to Ford," Whalen speculated, adding that the experience was a turning point in his own attitude toward the lobby: "If I couldn't go to a con­ference to further my education, I began to wonder, 'What's this all about?'"
A Minnesota Democrat had reason for similar wonderment after he left Congress. Richard Nolan, a businessman in Minneapolis, dis­covered the reluctance of his former colleagues to identify themselves
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with a scholarly article on the Middle East.62 He individually approached fifteen congressmen, asking each to insert in the Congressional Record an article that discussed the potential for the development of profitable U.S. trade with Arab states. Written by Ghanim Al-Mazrui, an official of the United Arab Emirates, it proposed broadened dialogue and rejec­tion of malicious stereotypes. Under House rules, when such items are entered in the Record, the name of the sponsoring member must be shown. Nolan reports, "Each of the fifteen said it was a terrific article that should be published but added, 'Please understand, putting it in under my name would simply cause too much trouble.' I didn't encounter a single one who questioned the excellence of the article, and what made it especially sad was that I picked out the fifteen people I thought most likely to cooperate." The sixteenth congressman he approached, Democrat David E. Bonior of Michigan, agreed to Nolan's request. The article appeared on page E 4791 of the October 5, 1983, Record. It was one of those unusual occasions when the Congressional Record contained a statement that might be viewed as critical of poli­cies or positions taken by Israel or, as in this case, promoting dialogue with the Arabs.
It was one of several brave steps by Bonior that made him a future target of Israel's lobby. Speaking before the Association of Arab Ameri­can University Graduates in Flint, Michigan, two months before the 1984 election, Bonior called for conditions on aid to Israel, declaring that the United States has been "rewarding the current government of Israel for undertaking policies that are contrary to our own," including Israel's disruption of "U.S. relations with long-standing allies such as Jor­dan and Saudi Arabia."
"An Incredible Burst of Candor"
Even those high in House leadership who represent politically safe districts are not immune from lobby intimidation. They encounter lobby pressure back home, and sometimes they vote against their own conscience.
In October 1981 President Reagan's controversial proposal to sell AWACS (intelligence-gathering airplanes) and modifying equipment for F-15 fighter aircraft to Saudi Arabia was under consideration in the House. Congressman Daniel Rostenkowski, chairman of the Ways and
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Means Committee and one of the most influential legislators on Capi­tol Hill, got caught in the Israeli lobby's counterattack. It was the first test of strength between the lobby and the newly installed president. Under the law, the sale would go through unless both the House and the Senate rejected it. The lobby sttategy was to have the initial test vote occur in the House, where its strength was greater. A rejection by the House, it was believed, might cause the Senate to follow suit.
Under heavy pressure from the lobby, Rostenkowski cooperated by voting no. Afterward, he told a reporter for Chicago radio station WMAQ that he actually favored the sale but voted as he did because he feared the "Jewish lobby."63 He contended that the House majority against the sale was so overwhelming that his own favorable vote "would not have mattered." Overwhelming it was, 301 to 111. Still, the Israeli lobby's goal was to ensure the highest possible number of negative votes in order to influence the Senate vote. To the lobby, Rostenkowski's vote did matter very much.
Columnist Carl Rowan called Rostenkowski's admission "an incred­ible burst of candor."64 While declaring "it is as American as apple pie for monied interests to use their dough to influence decisions" in Washing­ton, Rowan added, "There are a lot of American Jews with lots of money who learned long ago that they can achieve influence far beyond their numbers by making strategic donations to candidates. .. . No Arab pop­ulation here plays such a powerful role." Rostenkowski, however, was not a major recipient of contributions from pro-Israeli political action committees. In the following year, his campaign received only $1,000 from such groups.65
While the lobby is watchful over the full membership of the House, particularly leaders like Rostenkowski, it gives special emphasis to the members of the Foreign Affairs Committee, where the initial decisions are made on aid, both military and economic.
Allegiance to Israeli interests sometimes creates mystifying voting habits. Members who are "doves" on policy elsewhere in the world are unabashed "hawks" where Israel is concerned. As Stephen S. Rosenfeld of the Washington Post wrote in May 1983:
A Martian looking at the way Congress treats the administration's aid requests for Israel and El Salvador might conclude that our political system
5 They Dare to Speak Out
makes potentially life-or-death decisions about dependent countries in truly inscrutable ways.*
Rosenfeld was intrigued by the extraordinary performance of the Foreign Affairs Committee on one particular day, May 11, 1983. Scarcely taking time to catch its breath between acts, the panel required the vulnerable government of El Salvador to "jump a series of extremely high political hurdles" in order to get funding "barely adequate to keep its nose above water," while, a moment later, handed to Israel, which was clearly the dominant military power in the Middle East, "a third of a billion dollars more than the several billion dollars that the adminis­tration asked for it." One of Israel's leading partisans, Congressman Stephen J. Solarz, spoke with enthusiasm for the El Salvador "hurdles" and for the massive increase to Israel.
Outdoing the United Jewish Appeal
Stephen J. Solarz, a hardworking congressman who for eighteen years represented a heavily Jewish district in Brooklyn, prides himself on accomplishing many good things for Israel. Since his first election in 1974, Solarz established a reputation as an intelligent "eager beaver," widely traveled, aggressive, and totally committed to Israel's interests. In committee, he seemed always bursting with the next question before the witness could respond to his first.
In a December 1980 newsletter to his constituents, he provided an unprecedented insight into how Israel—despite the budgetary restraints under which the U.S. government labors—is able to get ever-increasing aid. Early that year he started his own quest for increased aid. He reported that he persuaded Secretary of State Cyrus Vance to come to his Capitol Hill office to talk it over. There he threatened Vance with a fight for the increase on the House floor if the administration opposed it in committee. Shortly thereafter, he said, Vance sent word that the administration would recommend an increase—$200 million extra in military aid—although it was not as much as Solarz desired.
His next goal was to convince the Foreign Affairs Committee to increase the administration's levels. Solarz felt an increase approved by the committee could be maintained on the House floor. The firsr srep was
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a private talk with Lee H. Hamilton, chairman of the subcommittee on Europe and the Middle East, the panel that would fust deal with the request. Tall, thoughtful, scholarly and cautious, Hamilton prided him­self on staying on the same "wavelength" as the majority—whether in committee or on the floor. Never abrasive, he usually worked out dif­ferences ahead of time and avoided open wrangles. Representing a rural Indiana district with no significant Jewish population, he was troubled by Israel's military adventures but rarely voiced criticism in public. He guarded his role as a conciliator.
Solarz found Hamilton amenable: "He agreed to support our proposal to increase the amount of [military assistance] ... by another $200 mil­lion." That would bring the total increase to $400 million. Even more important, Hamilton agreed to support a move to relieve Israel of its obli­gation to repay any of the $785 million it would receive in economic aid. The administration wanted Israel to pay back one-third of the amount.
"As we anticipated," Solarz reported, "with the support of Con­gressman Hamilton, our proposal sailed through both his subcommit­tee and the full committee and was never challenged on the floor when the foreign aid bill came up for consideration." Democrat Frank Church of Idaho, the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, and Jacob Javits, senior Republican—both strongly pro-Israeli—guided pro­posals at the same level smoothly through their chamber.
Solarz summed it up: "Israel, as a result, will soon be receiving a grand total of $660 million more in military and economic aid than it received from the U.S. government last year." He reflected upon the magnitude of the achievement:
Through a combination of persistence and persuasion, we were able to pro­vide Israel with an increase in military-economic aid in one year alone which is the equivalent of almost three years of contributions by the national UJA [United Jewish Appeal].
In his newsletter Solarz said that he sought membership on the For­eign Affairs Committee "because I wanted to be in a position to be help­ful to Israel." He explained that, while "most members of Congress, Republicans as well as Democrats" support Israel, "it is the members of the Foreign Affairs Committee in the House, and the Foteign Relations
5 They Dare to Speak Out
Committee in the Senate, who are really in a position to make a differ­ence where it counts—in the area of foreign aid, upon which Israel is now so dependent."
Solarz s zeal was unabated in September 1984 when, as a member of the House-Senate conference on Export Administration Act amend­ments, he demanded in a public meeting to know the legislations impli­cations for Israel.67 He asked Congressman Howard Wolpe, "Is there anything that the Israelis want from us, or could conceivably want from us that they weren't able to get?"68 Wolpe responded with a clear "no." Solarz pressed, "Have you spoken to the [Israeli] embassy?" Wolpe responded, "I personally have not," but he admitted, "my office has." Solarz tried again. "You are giving me an absolute assurance that they [the Israelis] have no reservation at all about this?" Finally convinced that Israel was content with the legislation, Solarz relaxed. "If they have no problem with it, then there is no reason for us to."
A veteran Ohio congressman observed:
When Solarz and others press for more money for Israel, nobody wants to say "No." You don't need many examples of intimidation for politicians to realize what the potential is. The Jewish lobby is terrific. Anything it wants, it gets. Jews are educated, often have a lot of money, and vote on the basis of a single issue—Israel. They are unique in that respect. For example, antiabortion supporters are numerous but not that well educated, and don't have that much money. The Jewish lobbyists have it all, and they are polit­ical activists on top of it.69
He divided his colleagues into four groups:
For the first group, it's rah, rah, give Israel anything it wants. The second group includes those with some misgivings, but they don't dare step out of line; they don't say anything. In the third group are congressmen who have deep misgivings but who won't do more than try quietly to slow down the aid to Israel. Lee Hamilton is an example. The fourth group consists of those who openly question U.S. policy in the Middle East and challenge what Israel is doing. Since Findley and McCloskey left, this group really doesn't exist anymore.
He put himself in the third group: "I may vote against the bill authorizing foreign aid this year for the first time. If I do, I will not state my reason."
Stilling the Still, Small Voices 5
Solarz never wavered in his commitment to Israel. A 1992 taped conversation with former AIPAC president David Steiner revealed that the organization was involved in "negotiations" with newly elected Pres­ident Bill Clinton over who would become the new secretary of state— Solarz was AIPAC's leading preference.
Another congressman, although bringing much the same level of commitment when he first joined the committee, later underwent a change.70
"Bleeding a Little Inside"
Democratic Congressman Mervyn M. Dymally, former lieutenant gov­ernor of California, came to Washington in 1980 with perfect creden­tials as a supporter of Israel. He said, "When you look at black America, I rank myself second only to Bayard Rustin in supporting Israel over the past twenty years."71 Short, handsome, and articulate, Dymally was the first black American to go to Israel after both the 1967 and 1973 wars.
In his successful campaign for lieutenant governor, he spoke up for Israel in all the statewide Democratic canvasses. He cofounded the Black Americans in Support of Israel Committee, organized pro-Israeli adver­tising in California newspapers, and helped to rally other black officials to the cause. In Congress, he became a dependable vote for Israeli inter­ests as a member of the Foreign Affairs Committee.
Nevertheless, in 1982 the pro-Israeli community withdrew its finan­cial support of Dymally. The following year, the AIPAC organization in California marked him for defeat, and began seeking a credible opponent to run against him in 1984. Explaining this sudden turn of events, Dymally cited two "black marks" against his pro-Israeli record in Con­gress. First, he "occasionally asked challenging questions about aid to Israel in committee"; although his questions were mild and not frequent, he stood out because no one else was even that daring. Second—far more damning in the eyes of AIPAC—he met twice with PLO leader Yasser Arafat. Both meetings were unplanned. The first encounter took place in 1981 during a visit to Abu Dhabi, where Dymally stopped to meet the local minister of planning while on his way back from a for­eign policy conference in southern India.72 The minister told him he had just met with Arafat and asked Dymally if he would like to see him. Dymally recalled, "I was too chicken to say no,' but I thought I was safe
5 They Dare to Speak Out
in doing it. I figured Arafat would not bother to see an obscure fresh­man congressman, especially on such short notice."
To his surprise, Arafat invited him for an immediate appointment. This caused near panic on the part of Dymally's escort, an employee of the U.S. embassy, who was taking Dymally on his round of appoint­ments in the ambassador's car, a vehicle bedecked with a U.S. flag on the front fender. Sensitive to the U.S. ban on contact between administra­tion personnel and PLO officials, the flustered escort removed the flag, excused himself, and then directed the driver to deliver Dymally to the Arafat appointment. "He was really in a sweat," Dymally recalled.
After a brief session with Arafat, he found a reporter for the Arab News Service waiting outside. Dymally told him Arafat expressed his desire for a dialogue with the United States. That night Peter Jennings reported from London to a nationwide American audience over ABC's evening news program that Dymally had become the first congressman to meet Arafat since Ronald Reagan was elected president. The news caused an uproar in the Jewish community, with many Jews doubting Dymally's statement that the meeting was unplanned. Stella Epstein, a Jewish member of Dymally's congressional staff, quit in protest.
Dymally met the controversial PLO leader again in 1982 in a simi­larly coincidental way.73 He had gone to Lebanon with his colleagues, Democrats Mary Rose Oakar of Ohio, Nick Rahall of West Virginia, and David E. Bonior of Michigan, and Republican Pete McCloskey to meet with Lebanese leaders, visit refugee camps, and view the effects of the Israeli invasion. Dymally was shocked by what he saw. "There's no way you can visit those [Palestinian] refugee camps without bleeding a little inside," he said. After the group's arrival they accepted an invitation to meet with Arafat, who was then under siege in Beirut.
Dymally's trouble with the Jewish community grew even worse. Dymally was wrongly accused of voting in 1981 for the sale of AWACS to Saudi Arabia. He actually voted the way the Israeli lobby wanted him to vote, against the sale. Moreover, to make his position explicit, during the House debate he stated his opposition in two separate speeches.74 He made the second speech, which was written for him by one of his sup­porters, Max Mont of the Jewish Labor Committee, "because Mont complained that the first was not strong enough," Dymally explained.
Still, the message either did not get through or was conveniently for­gotten. Carmen Warshaw, long prominent in Jewish affairs and Demo­
Stilling the Still, Small Voices 5
cratic Party politics in California—and a financial supporter of his cam­paigns—accosted Dymally at a public dinner and said, "I want my money back."75 Dymally responded, "What did I do, Carmen?" She answered, "You voted for AWACS."
Dymally found membership on the Foreign Affairs subcommittee on the Middle East a "no win" situation. He has alienated people on both sides. While one staff member quit in protest when he met Arafat, another, Peg McCormick, quit in protest when he voted for a large aid package that included money to build warplanes in Israel.76
For a time, Dymally stopped complaining and raising questions about Israel in committee. Asked why by the Wall Street Journal, he cited the lobby's role in my own loss in 1982 to Democrat Richard J. Durbin. He told the Journal reporter, "There is no question the Findley-Durbin race was intimidating."77 Dymally found intimidation elsewhere as well. Whenever he complained, he said, he received a prompt visit from an AIPAC lobbyist, who was usually accompanied by a Dymally con­stituent.78 He met one day with a group of Jewish constituents, "all of them old friends," and told them that, despite his grumbling, in the end he always voted for aid to Israel. He said: "Not once, I told them, have I ever strayed from the course." One of his constituents spoke up and said, "That's not quite right. Once you abstained." "They are that good," marveled Dymally. "The man was right."
Fourteen Freshmen Save the Day
Under the watchful eye of Israel's lobby, congressmen will go to extreme measures to help move legislation to provide aid to Israel. Just before Congress adjourned in December 1983, a group of freshmen Democrats helped the cause by taking the extraordinary step of changing their votes in the printed record of proceedings, a step congressmen usually shun because it makes them look indecisive. This day, however, under heavy pressure from pro-Israel constituents, the first-term members buckled and agreed to switch in order to pass a piece of catchall legislation known as a Continuing Resolution. The resolution provided funds for programs that Congress had failed to authorize in the normal fashion, among them aid to Israel. Passage would prevent any interruption in this aid.79
For once, both the House Democratic leadership and AIPAC were caught napping. Usually in complete control of all legislative activities
5 They Dare to Speak Out
that relate to Israel, AIPAC failed to detect the brewing rebellion. Con­cern over the budget deficit and controversial provisions in the bill for Central America led these freshman Democrats to oppose their own leadership. Unable to offer amendments, they quietly agreed among themselves to oppose the whole package.
When the roll was called, the big electric board over the Speaker s desk showed defeat—the resolution was rejected, 206-203.80 Twenty-four first-term Democrats had deserted the leadership and voted no. Voting no did not mean they opposed Israeli aid. Some of them, con­cerned over the federal deficit, viewed their vote as a demand to the lead­ership to schedule a bill raising taxes. For others, it was simply a protest. But for Israel it was serious.
"The Jewish community went crazy," a Capitol Hill veteran recalls. AIPAC's professionals went to work.81 Placing calls from their offices just four blocks away, they activated key people in the districts of a selected list of the errant freshmen. They arranged for "quality calls" to individ­uals who had played a major role in the recent congressional election. Each person activated was to place an urgent call to his or her congress­man, insist on getting through personally, and use this message:
Approval of the Continuing Resolution is very important. Without it, Israel will suffer. I am not criticizing your vote against it the first time. I am sure you had reasons. However, I have learned that the same question will come up for vote again, probably tomorrow. I speak for many of your friends and supporters in asking that you change your vote when the question comes up again.
Each person was instructed to report to AIPAC after making the calls. The calls were accordingly made and reported. The House of Rep­resentatives took up the question at noon the next day. It was the same language, word for word, that the House had rejected two days before. Silvio Conte, senior Republican on the Appropriations Committee, knowing the pressure that had been applied, challenged the freshmen Democrats to "stick to their guns" as "men of courage."82 Republican leader Bob Michel chided those unable to "take the heat from on high."83
Some of the heat came, of course, from the embarrassed Democratic leadership, but AIPAC was the institution that brought about changes in votes. On critical issues, congressmen responded to pressures from home, and, in such circumstances, House leaders had little leverage. To Repub­
Stilling the Still, Small Voices 5
Approximately 6,000 jobs would be lost as a direct result of taking the $250 million out of the U.S. economy and allowing Israel to spend it on defense articles and services which can just as easily be purchased here in the United
licans Conte and Michel, the main issue was the need for budgetary restraint.84 They argued that the measure should be rejected for that rea­son. During the debate, no one mentioned that day—or any other day— the influence of the Israeli lobby.
The urgent telephone messages from home carried the day. When the roll was called, fourteen of the freshmen—a bit sheepishly—changed their votes.85 They were: C. Robin Britt (NC), Jim Cooper (TN), Richard J. Durbin (IL), Edward J. Feighan (OH), Sander M. Levin (MI), Frank McCloskey (IN), Bruce A. Morrison (CT), James R. "Jim" Olin (VA), Timothy J. Penny (MN), Harry M. Reid (NV), Bill Richardson (NM), Norman Sisisky (VA), John M. Spratt, Jr. (SC), and Harley O. Staggers, Jr. (WV).
To give the freshmen an excuse they could use in explaining their embarrassing shift, the leadership promised to bring up a tax bill. Every­one knew it was just a ploy—the tax bill had no chance to become law. But the excuse was helpful, and the resolution was approved 224-189.86 The flow of aid to Israel continued without interruption.
Subsidizing Fnreign Competition
The final vote on the 1983 Continuing Resolution authorized a remark­able new form of aid to Israel. It included an amendment, crafted by AIPAC and sponsored by ardently pro-Israeli Congressmen Clarence Long of Maryland and Jack Kemp of New York, that permitted $250 million of the military grant aid to be spent in Israel on the development of a new Israeli fighter aircraft, the Lavi. The new fighter would compete for inter­national sales with the Northrop F-20 and the General Dynamics R16— both specifically designed for export. The amendment authorized privileged treatment never before extended to a foreign competitor. It was extraordinary for another reason: it set aside a U.S. law that requires all for­eign aid procurement funds to be spent in the United States.
During debate of the bill, Democrat Nick J. Rahall of West Vir­ginia, was the only congressman who objected.87 He saw the provision as threatening U.S. jobs at a time of high unemployment:
5 They Dare to Speak Out
States. Americans are being stripped of their tax dollars to build up foreign industry. They should not have to sacrifice their jobs as well.
That day, Rahall was unable to offer an amendment to strike or change this provision because of restrictions the House had established before it began debate. All that he, or any other member, could do was to vote for or against the entire Long-Kemp amendment, which included controver­sial provisions for El Salvador and international banks, as well as aid to Israel. The amendment was approved 262-150. Unlike RahalPs, most of the 150 negative votes reflected opposition to other features of the amend­ment, not to the $250 million subsidy to Israel's aircraft industry.
The following May, during the consideration of the bill appropriat­ing funds for foreign aid, Rahall offered an amendment to eliminate the $250 million, but it was defeated 379-40. Despite the amendment's obvious appeal to constituents connected with the U.S. aircraft indus­try, fewer than 10 percent of House members voted for it. It was the first roll call vote on an amendment dealing exclusively with aid to Israel in more than four years, and the margin of defeat provided a measure of AIPAC's power.
After the vote, AIPAC organized protests against the forty legislators who had supported the amendment. Rahall recalls that AIPAC carried out a campaign "berating those brave forty congressmen."88 He adds, "Almost all of those who voted with me have told me they are still catch­ing hell from their Jewish constituency. They are still moaning about the beating they are taking."
The "brave" congressmen got little thanks.89 Two ethnic groups, the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee and the National Asso­ciation of Arab Americans, congratulated Rahall on his initiative and urged their members to send letters of congratulation to each of the con­gressmen who supported his amendment. The results were meager. As the author, Rahall could expect to receive more supportive mail than the rest. He received "less than ten letters" and speculates that the other thirty-nine got even fewer.90
"Don't Look to Congress to Act"
The relucrance of congressmen to speak critically of Israel was apparenr in 1983 when the House gave President Reagan permission, under rhe War
Stilling the Still, Small Voices 5
Powers Act, to keep U.S. Marines in Lebanon for eighteen months. The vote took place a few days before the tragic truck bombing killed more than 240 marines in Beirut. At the time the House acted, however, several marines had already died. A number of congressmen warned of more trou­ble ahead, opposed Reagan's request, and strongly urged withdrawal of the U.S. military force. Five took the other side, mentioning the importance of the marine presence to the security of Israel's northetn border.
In all, ninety-one congressmen spoke, but they were silent on the mil­itary actions Israel had carried out in Lebanon during the previous year— unrestricted bombing of Beirut, forced evacuation of PLO fighters, and aiding in the massacres at Sabra and Shatila by surrounding the camps, allowing Lebanese Christian Phalange fighters in and refusing to allow fleeing refugees out, sending them back to be slaughteted.91 These events had altered the Lebanese scene so radically that President Reagan felt impelled to return the marines to Beirut. Israel's actions had necessitated the marines' presence, yet none of these critical events was mentioned among the thousands of words expressed during the lengthy discussion.
A veteran congressman, with the advantage of hindsight, explained it directly.92 Just after the terrorist attack that killed U.S. Marines who were asleep in their Beirut compound, Congressman Lee Hamilton was asked if Congress might soon initiate action on its own to get the marines out of Lebanon. The query was posed by William Quandt, a Middle East specialist who had served in the Carter White House, at the close of a private discussion on Capitol Hill involving a small group of senior congressmen. Hamilton, a close student of both the Congress and the Middle East, responded, "Don't look to Congress to act. All we know is how to increase aid to Israel."
Hamilton's statement has proved true. Aid to Israel—despite our country's budget problems and Israel's defiant behavior toward the United States in its use of U.S.-supplied weapons and its construction of settle­ments on occupied territory—continues to increase, with no peak in sight.
Bonior and Secret Evidence
The voices of protest in the House of Representatives became less audi­ble in 2001 with the announcement by Democrat David Bonior of Michigan that he would not seek re-election. Bonior, a member of the House since 1976 and Democraric Whip since 1992, was known for his
5 They Dare to Speak Out
strong positions on environmental, labor, and human rights issues, and has always fought for social and economic justice. He sponsored the Secret Evidence Repeal Act (H.R. 2121) in the 106th Congress, and a similar bill (H.R. 1266) in the 107th. Virtually every person against whom secret evidence has been used has been an Arab Muslim, and Bonior—who pro-Israel Washington PAC founder Morris Amitay called "the poster child for the pro-Arab cause in this country"—long opposed the discriminatory and unconstitutional use of secret evidence.93 Severely crippled by newly instituted redistricting, Bonior lost his bid for the gov­ernorship of Michigan in the 2002 elections.
"Here We Go Again"
Another blow to honest debate in the House was the retirement of Con­gressman Thomas Campbell (R-CA), who cosponsored the Secret Evi­dence Repeal Act with Bonior. In November 2000, Campbell lost his bid to unseat Dianne Feinstein (D-CA) in the U.S. Senate race, and resumed a teaching post at Stanford Law School. Feinstein would go on to propose and pass Senate Resolution 247, which the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee described as "a one-sided message to the American people and our friends and allies throughout the world that American elected officials are only concerned about Israel in the Middle East."
A similar resolution was introduced by Tom DeLay (R-TX) in May 2002 in the House of Representatives. It passed by a vote of 352-21, with twenty-nine abstentions. Thirty-three members did not vote, sug­gesting discontent with the legislation modified by fear of AIPAC. The resolution, which extensively condemned Palestinian suicide attacks and Palestinian President Yasser Arafat but offered no criticism whatsoever of Israel's aggressive policy of collective punishment, was called "unbal­anced and . . . counterproductive" by Congressman Jim Moran (D-VA). John Dingell (D-MI), who called the resolution "one-sided" and "pro­vocative," noted that its passage—at a time when President George W. Bush was expressing his sternest criticism yet of Israel—"will undermine rhe administration, diminish U.S. leverage with the Palestinians, and further damage U.S. credibility in the region." Nick Rahall (D-WV) put it more bluntly: "Here we go again. How many times has this body
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passed resolutions of this nature that are so unbalanced, so one-sided, that we become the laughingstock of the world?"94
Some members voted to open up debate on the tesolution, with the intention of including new language that would offer more balance. As Congressman Mark Green (R-WI) noted the day of the vote, however, "in a House of 435 members, there were only eighty-two who voted with me on this, and only three of those were Republicans. I wish we had more, because I think we would have ended up with a better piece of legislation."95
Despite the eloquence of courageous members of Congress—whose ranks included Jesse L. Jackson, Jr. (D-IL), Lois Capps (D-CA), David Price (D-NC), Peter DeFazio (D-OR), Jay Inslee (D-WA), Amory Houghton (R-NY), Marcy Kaptur (D-OH), Cynthia McKinney (D-GA), and of coutse David Bonior—anti-Palestinian oratory became deafening on the Republican side of the House of Representatives. It was an especially depressing development to Republicans like myself.
The resolution was a factor in the defeat of a five-term Democrat, Earl Hilliard, in the Alabama runoff primary on June 25, 2002. Hilliard, a supporter of Palestinian statehood, was one of the twenty-one who voted against the resolution. Arab American and Muslim groups rallied financial support in his campaign, but Hatvard-educated Artur Davis, according to Hilliard, was able to outspend him by a larger margin, thanks to strong support from New York City Jews. Davis focused on charges of ethics violations by Hilliard and accused him of links with ter­rorism. Both candidates are African American.
As evidence of the pro-Israel bias in the House, soon-to-retire major­ity leader Richard Armey (R-TX), proposed on May 1, 2002, that Pales­tinians simply vacate the West Bank. Prodded in an interview by MSNBC's Chris Matthews, Armey said, "I happen to believe that the Palestinians should leave." Faced with prorests, Armey said, days later, that he meant to say that Palestinian terrorists should leave.
The week before, Tom DeLay, Armey's heir apparent as majority leader and future creator of the controversial "Israel First" resolution, told the annual AIPAC convention, "As long as I'm in Congress, I'll use every tool at my disposal to ensure that the Republican conference in the House of Representatives continues to preserve and strengthen America's alliance with the State of Israel."96