Known and Unknown - Donald Rumsfeld [16]
Now it fell to me to deliver the disappointing news to President Gemayel. It was among the saddest tasks I have had to perform. After talking with McFarlane, I traveled to the presidential palace in Beirut. The palace had taken four direct hits that morning. Windows were broken and the long white drapes were blowing out in the wind. As I walked to the President’s office, I stepped around a pool of blood from a palace guard who had been hit in the shelling. I was reminded again of the personal courage Gemayel displayed by remaining in Beirut.
The Lebanese leader was amazed to learn that America had arrived at this decision. Though I knew he had cause to doubt the depth of the American commitment to his country, he appeared to have not imagined that we would desert him altogether. Being involved in diplomacy on behalf of the United States, I came to appreciate the perspectives many other countries have toward us. It sometimes seems to me we are looking at each other from opposite ends of a telescope. Smaller nations seem to look at us from the small end, through which we look enormous, even omnipotent. Americans have a tendency to look at other countries from the other end, and so their concerns seem smaller to us. This has colored the impression of our country in the Middle East, and indeed in the rest of the world: The view seems to be that if the United States can put a man on the moon we ought to be able to do almost anything if we really want to. Many believe that if we don’t achieve a goal they want, it is because we aren’t trying hard enough. That seemed to be Gemayel’s view.
Even though he was clearly down, the Lebanese leader was not ready to give up. He said he would remain in Beirut and do his best to try to pull together a workable coalition government. He explained his predicament and the serious problems he faced: trying to keep the ethnically and religiously diverse Lebanese army together; maneuvering to keep the Syrians off his back; and trying to persuade the Lebanese people to come together to save their country.
Trying to maintain his dignity, he urged that I ask President Reagan to reconsider his decision to withdraw.19 “I want to be very frank,” he said. “I am not trying to run away from my responsibility…. Now it is a matter of saving my country.”
I could provide Gemayel with no reassurance. I knew the decision would not be reconsidered. The United States had been one of Lebanon’s close allies. As I left him to his fate, I felt what he felt: America had not lived up to its promises.
To my surprise, the statement from the White House announcing the American withdrawal was couched in buoyant optimism. “[A]fter consultation with our MNF [multinational force] partners and President Gemayel, and at his request, we are prepared to do the following,” the statement began. It outlined a series of steps the administration was taking to further help the Lebanese. “We will stand firm to deter those who seek to influence Lebanon’s future by intimidation,” the statement added, pledging support for the Gemayel government. The steps, the statement said, “will strengthen our ability to do the job we set out to do and to sustain our efforts over the long term.”20 From the language, one could have been forgiven for thinking the new decision being announced was a victory for the Lebanese government. The reality was Gemayel would now be alone facing Syria and the centrifugal forces pulling apart his country.
The day after the White House statement, the Syrians and their allies stepped up their artillery and rocket attacks against the presidential palace, the American ambassador’s residence, and other targets in the hills overlooking Beirut. On February 8, more rounds of artillery landed near the ambassador’s residence. The United States