PART 1:THEY DARE TO SPEAK OUT

THEY DARE TO SPEAK OUT
PEOPLE AND INSTITUTIONS 
CONFRONT ISRAEL'S LOBBY 
by Paul Findley
Introduction 

A Middle West Congressman 

Meets the Middle East 

"How did a Congressman from the com-hog heartland of America get entangled in Middle East politics?" people ask. Like most rural Congressmen, I had no ethnic constituencies who lobbied me on their foreign interests. As expected, I joined the Agriculture Committee and worked mainly on issues like farming, budget and welfare reform. 

Newly appointed in 1972 to the subcommittee on Europe and the Middle East, I had represented the Springfield, Illinois, area for 12 years without attracting much attention at home or abroad. 

Eight short years later, my involvement in Middle East politics would bring me infamy among many U.S. Jews, notoriety in Israel and applause throughout the Arab world. By 1980, in urban centers of pro Israel activism-far from the local Jews in central Illinois who knew and trusted me, I found myself in the most expensive Congressional campaign in state history. Thanks to a flow of hostile dollars from both coasts and nearby Chicago, I became "the number one enemy of Israel" and my re-election campaign the principal target of Israel's lobby. 

Prodded by a professor at Illinois College, I had already begun to doubt the wisdom of United States policy in the Middle East when I first joined the subcommittee. For the most part, I kept these doubts private, but not because I feared the political consequences. In fact, I naively assumed I could question our policy anywhere without getting into trouble. I did not realize how deeply the roots of Israeli interests had penetrated U.S. institutions. 

Congressmen generally heard only the Israeli case. Arab American lobbies, fledgling forces even today, were nonexistent. Arab embassies, which even today hire public relations experts only with reluctance, then showed little interest in lobbying. Even if a Congressman had wanted to hear the Arab viewpoint, he would have had difficulty finding an Arab spokesman to explain it. 

My personal involvement with Middle East politics started with a constituent problem that had no direct connection with the Arab-Israeli conflict. It began in the spring of 1973 when a letter arrived from Mrs. Evans Franklin, a constituent who wrote neighborhood news for a rural weekly newspaper I once edited. In this letter, she pleaded for my help in securing the release of her son, Ed, from a faraway prison. He had been convicted of espionage and sentenced to five years' solitary imprisonment in Aden, the capital of the Marxist People's Democratic Republic of (South) Yemen. After reading her plea, I had to consult a map. I knew only that Aden once had been a major British base. 

Had it not been for a series of cancelled airline flights, his mother told me, Franklin would never have set foot in Aden. Returning from Ethiopia to his teaching post in Kuwait, he was rerouted through Aden and then delayed again by the cancellation of his departing flight. His luck worsened. A camera buff and unaware of local restrictions, he photographed a prohibited area. The Adenese were still nervous about blonde-haired visitors, remembering the commando raid the British had conducted shortly after they left Aden six years earlier. When Franklin snapped the pictures, he was immediately arrested, kept in an interrogation center for months, and finally brought to trial, convicted and sentenced. My efforts to secure his release proceeded for the most part without aid from the State Department. Our government had had no relations, diplomatic or otherwise, with Aden since a 1969 coup moved the regime dramatically to the left. This meant the State Department could do nothing directly. I asked a friend in the Egyptian embassy in Washington to help. Franklin's parents, people of modest means living in a rural crossroads village, sent a request to Salim Rubyai Ali, South Yemen's president, seeking executive clemency. I sent a similar request. Our government asked the British to intervene through their embassy in Aden. There was no response to any of these initiatives. 

In December 1973 I visited Abdallah Ashtal, Aden's ambassador to the United Nations in New York, to ask if I could go personally to Aden and make a plea for Franklin's release. Ashtal, a short, handsome, youthful diplomat who was taking evening graduate courses at New York University, promised a prompt answer. A message came back two weeks later that I would be welcome. 

If I decided to go, I would have to travel alone. I would be the first Congressman House or Senate-to visit Aden since the Republic was established in 1967 and the first United States official to visit there since diplomatic relations were severed in the wake of the coup two years later. Although this was an exciting prospect, it also caused me some foreboding. Moreover, I had no authority as an envoy. South Yemen, sometimes called the Cuba of the Arab world, was regarded by our State Department as the most radical of the Arab states. A State Department friend did nothing to relieve my concern when he told me that Aden's foreign minister got his job "because he killed more opponents than any other candidate." 

Troubling questions came to mind. How would I be received? I discussed the trip with Alfred L. Atherton, Jr., assistant secretary of state for Near East and South Asia affairs. I asked him, "If they lock me up, what will you do first?" He smiled and said, "Look for another Congressman to come get you out!" 

Still, I was probably the only person able to help. Franklin's mother told me, "I doubt if Ed can survive five years in a Yemen jail." My wife, Lucille, expressed deep concern over the prospects of the trip but agreed that I had little choice but to go. 

I also thought the trip might be an opportunity to open the door to better relations with a vital but little-known part of the world. With the imminent reopening of the Suez Canal, better relations with Aden could be important to United States interests in the Indian Ocean. After all, Aden, along with French-held Djibouti, was a guardian of a world-famous and vitally important strait, the gateway to the Suez Canal. If the Soviets, already present with aid missions and military advisers, succeeded in dominating the Aden government, they could effectively control the canal from the south. It was obvious that, beyond the release of Franklin, the United States needed good relations. 

I decided that I must go. The trip was set for late March 1974. 

From Middle East scholars, I learned that Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, who was soon to begin shuttle negotiations between Israel and Egypt, was held in high esteem in Aden. I asked him for a letter that I could take with me which would be as explicit as possible about United States-Aden relations. A personal letter arrived three days before I left. In it, Kissinger said he welcomed my "humanitarian mission" to Aden and added: "Should the occasion arise, you may wish to inform those officials whom you meet of our continuing commitment to work for an equitable and lasting Middle East peace and of our desire to strengthen our ties with the Arab world." 

The letter was addressed to me, not to the Aden government. It was a diplomatic "feeler." I hoped it would convince any officials I met that the United States wanted to establish normal relations. 

A good traveler always brings gifts. At the suggestion of an Egyptian friend, I secured scholarships from three colleges in Illinois to present to South Yemeni students. I also located and had specially bound two Arabic language translations of Carl Sandburg's biography of Lincoln, The Prairie Years. In addition, I also carried two small busts of Lincoln-my most celebrated constituent-hoping he would be known even in Aden. I left Washington early enough to visit Syria before heading south to Aden. 

Syria had not had normal diplomatic relations with the United States since the 1967 war with Israel, and despite its growing importance, no member of the House of Representatives had visited there for five years. To my surprise, President Hafez Assad of Syria agreed to receive me without advance appointment. Perhaps he was intrigued with the presence of a United States Congressman who said he had an open mind about Middle East issues. 

Assad received me in the spacious second-floor reception room of his offices. A tall, thickset man with a prominent forehead and a warm, quiet manner, Assad made his points forcefully but without a hint of hostility. While sipping small cups of rich Syrian coffee, he voiced his pain over United States support of Israel's actions: "We are bitter about the guns and ammunition you provide to Israel, and why not? But bitterness is not hostility. In fact, we have very warm feelings about the American people. Despite the war, the Syrian people like Americans and have for years." 

While sympathizing, I took the initiative, urging him to restore full diplomatic relations and to take a page from the public relations book of the Israeli's. I suggested that he come to the United States and take his case directly to the American people over television. 

Assad responded, "Perhaps we have made some mistakes. We should have better public relations. I agree with what you say and recommend, but I don't know when I can come to the United States." 

As I rose to leave, Assad said, "You have my mandate to invite members of your Congress to visit Syria as soon as possible. They will be most welcome. We want those who are critical as well as those who are friends to come." 

While I later extended Assad's invitation personally to many of my colleagues and, in a detailed official report, to all of them, few accepted. The first Congressional group did not arrive until 1978, four years later. 

After my interview with Assad, I was driven late at night from Damascus to Beirut for the flight to Aden. As our car approached the Syria-Lebanon border, I could hear the sound of Israel's shelling of Lebanon's Mt. Hermon, a sobering reminder that seven years after the 1967 war the fighting still continued. 

In 1974, Beirut was still the "Paris of the Middle East," a western like city with a lively night life and bustling commerce. A new Holiday Inn had just opened near the harbor. Every street seemed to boast two international banks, at least three bookstores and a dozen restaurants. A year later the Holiday Inn became a battleground between Phalangist militia, backed by Israel, and the Lebanese left coalition, including Palestinians, helped by various Arab governments and by Moscow. Its walls were ripped open by shells, its rooftop pavilion littered with the bodies of fallen snipers. The vicious civil war, which began in 1975, had turned Beirut into a city of rubble. 

But even in 1974, the Palestinians in the refugee camps did not share the prosperity of the city. I passed the hovels of Sabra and Shatila, where, nine years later, the massacre of hundreds of Palestinian civilians would shock the world. My embassy escort said, "These miserable camps haven't improved in 20 years." 

I also passed the Tel Zaatar refugee camp, whose wretched inhabitants would soon suffer a fate even more cruel. A year later that camp was besieged for 45 days by rightist "Christian" militias, armed and advised by Israel's Labor government. Fifteen thousand Palestinians died, many of them after the camp surrendered. Virtually every adult male survivor was executed. That slaughter was little noted by the world press. Hardly anyone, save the Palestinians, remembers it. 

At that time, the spring of 1974, I had no premonition of the tragedies to follow. I boarded the Aden-bound plane at Beirut with just one person's tragedy on my mind-that of Ed Franklin. 

Mission in Aden 

In Aden, to my surprise and pleasure, I was met by a delegation of five youthful officials, three of them cabinet ministers. Mine was the only gray hair in sight that night. The group had stayed up until 2 A.M. to meet the plane. "Welcome. We have your quarters ready," said the government's chief of protocol. Good news! This meant, I felt, that I would not be stuck off in a hotel room. My quarters turned out to be a rambling old building which years ago, in imperial days, was the residence of the British air commander. A tree-shaded terrace-a rarity in Aden-looked over the great harbor, a strategic prize ever since white men first rounded the Cape of Good Hope in the sixteenth century. Blackbirds chattered overhead. 

I received permission to visit Franklin at 7: 15 that first night. I found him under guard in an apartment on the second floor of a small modern building. When I entered, he was standing by a couch in the living room. We had never seen each other before. 

"I presume you are Congressman Findley." 

Despite the emotion of the occasion, I smiled, sensing how Dr. Livingston must have felt years before in Africa. 

After 16 months of confinement, Franklin was thin, almost gaunt. His trousers were several sizes too big, his blonde hair was neatly combed, his face cleanly shaved and he was surprisingly well tanned. He looked much older than his 34 years. 

We were able to talk alone. I said, "You're thin, but you look well." He answered, "I'm very glad you came, and I feel pretty well. Much better now that you're here. A few days ago when I used a mirror for the first time in months, I was shocked at how I look." He said he had got the tan from daily exercise in the prison yard, adding that he had been transferred to the flat two days before, obviously because authorities did not want me to see the prison. 

"Here is a box of food items your family asked me to deliver." When I said that, his face, which until then had displayed no emotion, fell. "I guess this means I am not going home with you." 

I said, "I don't know." 

Franklin changed the subject. "I had to leave my Bible at the prison. I hated to, because I like to read it every day." 

I said, "Many people have been praying for you." 

He responded, "Yes, I knew at once, even before I got word in letters from home. I could feel it." 

Franklin told me he had not been physically abused but said the food was terrible and some of the rules bothered him. "I am not allowed to have a pen and paper. I like to write. I once wrote poetry on a sack, but then my pencil was discovered and taken from me. I don't know why." Still, he seemed to hold no grudge against his captors. "I like the Arab world. Maybe someday when the American embassy is reopened, I could even get a job here." 

I assured him: "I'll do my very best to secure your release, or at least shorten your term. That's why I'm here, and I'll try to see you again before I leave. I'll also try to get approval for you to have pencil and paper." 

On the way back to my quarters, I passed on Franklin's request for writing materials to my escort officer, who answered simply, "I will report your request." I spent Friday, a Muslim day of worship, touring the nearby desolate countryside. The main tourist attraction is an ancient, massive stone well built to store the area's scarce rainfall. That evening the British consul, a compassionate man who had occasionally delivered reading material to Franklin, joined me for dinner. The British long ago understood the importance of maintaining diplomatic relations even with hostile regimes and, shortly after their stormy departure from Aden, they had established an embassy there. 

Saturday morning Foreign Minister M. J. Motie came to my quarters for a long discussion of United States-Yemen relations. The plight of the Palestinians under Israeli occupation was at the top of his agenda, Franklin at the top of mine. He charged, "The United States is helping Saudi Arabia foment subversion along Yemen's borders." I told him I was troubled by this charge, was unaware of such activity and I hoped to help improve relations. Motie responded, "While the past is not good, the present looks better, but we need a substantial sign of friendship. For example, we need aid in buying wheat." 

After the discussion, I spent a long and fruitless afternoon trying to fill a shopping list my family had sent with me. The bazaar had little but cheap Japanese radios and a few trinkets. It had even fewer shoppers. I returned to the guest house, finding, to my astonishment, an assortment of gifts, each neatly wrapped-among them a jambia, the traditional curved Yemeni dagger, and a large ceremonial pipe. The gifts were accompanied by a card: "With the compliments of the president." 

Were these gifts merely sweeteners to take the place of Franklin on my homeward journey? Or were they a harbinger of success? I dared not believe the latter. I had received no hint that the government would even shorten Franklin's sentence, but, at least, it acceded to his request for paper and pencil. 

My second visit with Franklin was more relaxed than the first. He accepted the pencils and paper I brought him with the comment, "I hope I won't need them except for tonight." I responded that I had no reason to hope he would be able to leave with me, but, strictly on my own hunch, felt that he would be released soon. 

I met with President Ali the night before my scheduled departure inside the heavily guarded compound where the president both lived and had his offices. I was ushered into a long reception hall adorned with blue flowered carpeting and gold drapes down three sides. The fourth side opened into a large courtyard. Two rows of ceiling fans whirred overhead. In the center of this large hall was a lonely group of gold-upholstered sofas and chairs. 

By the time I reached the circle of furniture, President Ali, the foreign minister of Aden and an interpreter were walking through the same door I had entered. I needed no introduction. I had seen Ali's picture many places around Aden, but frankly it did him little justice. He was a tall, well-built man of 40. His black hair had a touch of gray. His skin was dark, his bearing dignified. He was soft-spoken, and two gold teeth glistened when he smiled. 

After exchanging greetings, I thanked him for his hospitality and for the gifts. Then I launched into my own presentation of gifts: first, the Lincoln book and bust, then the scholarships. 

What he was waiting for, of course, was the letter from Kissinger which would indicate the weight the United States gave my mission. When I handed it to him, I tried to broaden its importance. 

"Perhaps your excellency will permit me to explain," I said. "This letter presents formally the desire of the U.S. to re-establish diplomatic relations. This is important. Our government needs these relations in order to understand Aden's policies and problems. The president of the United States and the secretary of state are limited in foreign policy. They can do only whatever the Congress will support, so it is also important for Congressmen to gain a better understanding of Aden's situation and of the Arab world in general." 

Ali responded: "Aden is the shining example of the Republic. Other areas of our country are quite different. The people are much poorer." I gulped. I had seen only Aden, Ali's "shining example" which struck me as very poor, so I could only guess at conditions elsewhere. 

While I took notes, Ali told me that the anti-poverty efforts of his government were handicapped by "subversion" from neighboring states. He said, bluntly, "The belief is held by the people of our country that all suffering, all damage caused by subversives, is really the work of the United States government. All military equipment we capture is United States equipment." Some of it, he said, was outside this building for me to examine. 

I interjected that this information was not known in the United States, underscoring the need for diplomatic relations, so this sort of injury would stop. He nodded. "I favor relations with the United States, but they must relate to grievances now seen by my people." He added, "Aden does not wish to be isolated from the United States." 

Ali thanked me for the gifts, indicating the interview was over. I sensed this was my long-awaited opportunity, my chance to launch into an appeal for Franklin. 

It was not needed. Ali interrupted by saying simply, "Regarding the prisoner, as soon as I heard of your interest in him, I saw to it that he received preferential treatment. I have carefully considered your request and your desire that he be released. I have decided to grant your request. When you want him, you may have him." I could scarcely believe what I had heard. "When you want him, you may have him." 

I was so overcome with joy I half-stumbled leaving the room. Franklin was free. In fact, he was waiting at my quarters when I returned. We were on the plane at 6 o'clock the next morning, headed for Beirut, New York and then St. Louis-where a joyous family welcomed Franklin home. 

I am convinced the main reason for Franklin's release was the decision by the government to probe ever so cautiously for better relations with the United States. Caution was necessary, because there were those in both nations who did not wish to see relations improved. Ali was the least Marxist of a three-man ruling junta. In the State Department, even some "Arabists," still resentful over the Yemeni expulsion of the United States presence years before, rejected Aden as nothing but a "training ground for PLO terrorists." Others, such as Kissinger, felt differently. Ed Franklin had provided the opportunity to begin the probing. 

But the United States government fiddled, hedged and delayed three years. Jimmy Carter replaced Gerald R. Ford in the White House, and Cyrus Vance became secretary of state. Our government turned down Aden's request to buy wheat on credit, then refused to consider a bid to buy three used airliners. The United States kept putting off even preliminary talks. At a second meeting with me in September 1977,this time in New York where he addressed the United Nations-Ali restated his desire for renewed relations with the United States and suggested that I report our discussion to Secretary of State Cyrus Vance. I did so, and after my report, Vance and Foreign Minister Motie of South Yemen agreed to exploratory talks. To me, this appeared like a momentous breakthrough. The talks were to begin in Aden in just a few weeks, shortly after New Year's Day. Sadly, procrastination took over. 

No precise date for the meetings had been set when I returned to the Middle East with a number of other Congressmen in January 1978. I altered my own itinerary long enough for a side trip to Aden. Before I left the group, we met with Secretary of State Vance, whose travels happened to cross ours, and with Saudi Arabia's Crown Prince Fahd a large, impressive man who spoke eloquent English and was to become the Saudi monarch. Fahd spoke approvingly of my efforts in Aden and asked me to tell officials in Aden that Saudi Arabia was ready to resume sending them economic aid. 

"It's a Good Omen" 

When I arrived, the scene in Aden had improved. South Yemen had already exchanged ambassadors with its former arch-enemy, Saudi Arabia-even though the two nations still had disputes over territory. Aden had also just agreed to diplomatic relations with Jordan. The local radio station no longer harangued American and Saudi "imperialists." This time my wife, Lucille, accompanied me. We were assigned to the same guest house I had used before, where the principal change was the presence of a well-stocked refrigerator. 

President Ali received us in the same spacious hall, along with an honor guard. Although he avoided comment on Saudi Arabia's offer of aid, Ali spoke of Crown Prince Fahd with great warmth.

Then he added, "We are looking forward to the expected arrival of the diplomatic delegation from the United States before the end of the month." I am sure my face fell. I knew the delegation was not coming that month. In fact, the mission had been delayed indefinitely. A few days before, Vance had told me the bad news but had not explained why. When I expressed the hope that Ali had been notified of the delay, Vance had replied, "We will take care of it." But, unfortunately, no one did. 

Ali was left waiting, day by day, for a group that did not arrive. I did not feel free to tell him of the change, so I listened and tried to look hopeful. I knew the delay would strengthen his critics who opposed reconciliation with the United States. 

I changed the subject: "Some of our strategists say you have let the Soviets establish a naval base here. Do you have a comment?" 

He strongly protested: "That is not true. We do not allow the Soviets, or any foreign nation, to have a military base in our territory. But we do cooperate with the Soviets because they help us." Ali concluded our discussion by giving me a message to take to Washington: 

Please extend my warm greetings to President Carter. Kindly inform him that we are eager to maintain smooth and friendly relations between Democratic Yemen and the United States. We recognize that President Carter is concerned about maintaining friendly relations with all countries. We feel that is a positive policy. We believe our relations should be further strengthened. 

As we parted, I gave Ali a pottery vase our daughter, Diane, had made for him. He said, "That's very nice. Please thank your daughter. I admire it." Then he stepped to the door to admire something else, rain, which is a rarity in Aden. 

"It's a good omen," he said. 

I left Aden more convinced than ever that diplomatic relations would help the United States and our friends in the region. The United States and Saudi Arabia had a common interest in minimizing the Soviet presence in South Yemen. We needed a diplomatic mission there. Back in Washington, I missed no opportunity to press this recommendation on Secretary Vance and on the White House staff. 

At the White House a month later I was able to make a personal appeal to President Jimmy Carter. Carter said he was "surprised and pleased" by Ali's message. 

"His words are surprisingly warm," he observed. "We've been hoping to improve our situation there." I urgently argued that there should be no further delays: "Another cancellation would be baffling to President Ali, to say the least." 

Carter thanked me, and, as Vance had earlier, told me he would "take care of the matter. " 

Carter was true to his word. Five months after my last meeting with Ali, a team of State Department officials arranged to visit Aden on June 26, 1978, for "exploratory talks" to discuss in a "non-committal way" the resumption of diplomatic negotiations. Ali was to meet them on the day of their arrival. 

It was too late. Aden's Marxist hardliners decided to act. Concerned by Ali's probing for improved relations with the United States and Saudi Arabia, radicals seized fighter planes, strafed the presidential quarters, took control of the government, and on the day the U.S. delegation was scheduled to arrive, arrested Ali. He was executed by a firing squad. Ambassador Ashtal called from New York to tell me the delegation would still be welcome, but the mission was scrubbed. The group, after traveling as far as Sa'ana, capital of North Yemen, returned to Washington. Distressed over the execution of Ali, I asked Ashtal for an explanation. He told me, "It's an internal matter of no concern to the outside world." 

Still, Ali's fate concerned me deeply. And still does. I have often wondered whether my goodwill and his merciful act toward Ed Franklin contributed to his downfall. 

My journeys to Aden had broader personal importance than my ultimately unsuccessful efforts to re-establish diplomatic relations. After years on Capitol Hill, I had heard for the first time the Arab perspective, particularly on the plight of the Palestinians. I began to read about the Middle East, to talk with experts and to begin to understand the region. Gradually, Arabs emerged as human beings. 

The word of my experiences got around, and soon my office became a stopping place for people going to and from the Middle East scholars, business people, clerics, government officials. It was unusual for anyone in Congress to visit Arab countries and take an interest in their problems. I began to speak out in Congress. I argued from what I considered to be a U.S. viewpoint-neither pro-Israel nor pro-Arab. I said that our unwillingness to talk directly to the political leadership of the Palestinians, like our reluctance to talk to President Ali in Yemen, handicapped our search for peace. Diplomatic communication with other parties, however alien, however small, is a convenience to our government. It does not need to be viewed as an endorsement. Thus, I asked, why not talk directly to PLO Chairman Yasser Arafat, the acknowledged political voice of the Palestinians? One reason, I discovered, was that Henry Kissinger, who had provided help on my long road to Aden, had, yielding to an Israeli request, agreed not to communicate formally with the PLO until they recognized the right of Israel to exist,a tough demand, especially in light of Israel's flat refusal to accept a new Palestinian state as its neighbor! 

I decided to communicate with Arafat to help break the ice. I had first met the PLO leader in January 1978 during that Congressional mission to the Middle East when I saw Ali for the last time. Joining me were several colleagues, Democrats Leo Ryan of California, who was later to die in the violence at Jonestown, Guyana, and Helen Meyner of New Jersey. A Republican Congressman also attended, but, fearful that the news would cause him problems with Israeli activists in his district, asked me not to mention his presence. Before the meeting, I had many of the same misgivings that I felt before going to Aden four years earlier. I was wary, because meeting Arafat crossed the chalk line which Kissinger, at Israel's demand, had drawn. 

"I Stand Behind the Words" 

When I crossed the line, to my surprise I discovered that Arafat, who received us in a heavily guarded second-floor apartment, was not a wild-eyed, gun-waving fanatic. He spoke softly and listened attentively. He met us bare-headed-he was nearly bald. This took us by surprise, because in public he was always attired in the Palestinian headdress or military cap. To questions about PLO terrorism, he repeated his usual litany, but coming from the depth of his experience it seemed somewhat more forceful: "I am a freedom fighter. We are fighting for justice for our people, the four million Palestinians dispossessed and scattered by three decades of war." 

Later that year, I had a second and more productive meeting with Arafat. This time I was alone. We met in the same apartment as before. With him were Abu Hassan, his security leader who was soon to die in a car-bombing in Beirut, and Mahmoud Labadi, his public affairs officer, who later deserted Arafat and joined Syrian-supported hardliners. Such was the ferment in that tortured group. I wanted Arafat to clarify the terms under which the PLO would live at peace with Israel. Was he ready to recognize Israel? In a four-hour discussion late into the night, he provided the answer. Working carefully word by word, and phrase by phrase, he fashioned a statement and authorized me to report it publicly. 

I wrote the words and read them back several times so he could ponder their full meaning. When it was done I asked Arafat if he would sign his name on the paper bearing the words. He answered, "No, I prefer not to sign my name, but I stand behind the words. You may quote me." 

The declaration Arafat gave me follows: 

The PLO will accept an independent Palestinian state consisting of the West Bank and Gaza, with a connecting corridor, and in that circumstance will renounce any and all violent means to enlarge the territory of that state. I would reserve the right of course to use non-violent, that is to say diplomatic and democratic means, to bring about the eventual unification of all of Palestine. We will give de facto recognition to the State of Israel. We would live at peace with all our neighbors.-Damascus, November 30, 1978. 

I was elated-perhaps too much so. Arafat's pledge contrasted sharply with the harsh rhetoric of earlier Palestinian public statements which called, in effect, for the elimination of the state of Israel. It was not, of course, everything Israel or the United States would want, but it was an encouraging start. If true, it belied the image of the fanatic who believed only in violence. During the long interview we covered many points, and, determined to protect my credibility, I asked Arafat to identify statements he did not wish to make public. The carefully drafted pledge was not one of these. He wanted the world to know, and, clearly, he expected a positive response from President Carter. To use one of the PLO leader's favorite expressions, he had "played a card" in authorizing me to transmit this statement. It was a step beyond anything his organization had officially proclaimed. 

Tragically, it brought no reaction from the U.S. government. I later learned that Secretary of State Vance privately recommended that the administration "take note" of it, though no public announcement was made. In subsequent public interviews, Arafat-always a nimble actor-sidestepped questions about the pledge. 

Nevertheless, Carter's newly-appointed special ambassador to the Middle East, Robert Strauss, a prominent Democrat who had previously been chairman of the Democratic National Committee, was intrigued with my communication with Arafat and became a frequent visitor to my office. I often thought that bringing Arafat and Strauss together would be important to the peace process. 

The fact that Strauss is Jewish would have helped thousands of Jews in Israel to put aside their government's hard line. But Strauss, despite his unique intimate relationship with Carter and his demonstrated ability to negotiate complicated problems on both the international and domestic scene, never received full presidential backing on the Middle East. Late in his diplomatic mission, just before he was shifted to the chairmanship of Carter's ill-fated campaign for reelection, Strauss told me, "If I had had my way, I would have been talking directly to Arafat months ago." 

I found myself being drawn deeper and deeper into Middle East politics. Early one Sunday morning in August 1979, Assistant Secretary of State Harold Saunders called me in Illinois to ask for my help. At Arafat's behest, Kuwait was demanding consideration of a United Nations resolution sympathetic to the Palestinians. The United States, because of Israel's objections, would not support this resolution but did not want to go on record against it. The vote was scheduled for the following Tuesday. Given more time, Saunders hoped to find a formula which would satisfy both the Arab states and the United States. Mindful of President Carter's rule against even informal talks with the PLO, he carefully avoided directly asking that I call Arafat. Nevertheless, I knew Saunders well enough to grasp the purpose of his call. He hoped I could persuade Arafat to cancel the scheduled vote. 

My call to Arafat's office in Beirut went through instantly, unusual for the chaotic Beirut exchange. I urged Arafat to delay the U.N. confrontation, arguing that this would cost him nothing while winning him the gratitude of the United States. Two hours later Arafat sent word to Kuwait causing the vote to be postponed. This spared the U.S. an embarrassing public spat with Arab friends. That same weekend, Carter's ambassador to the United Nations, Andrew Young, acted less cautiously than Saunders and met on the same issue with Zuhdi Terzi, the PLO observer at the United Nations. So firm was Carter's edict against talking with the PLO that this incident led to Young's resignation. 

I was soon on the phone again with the State Department. This time my help, through Arafat, was needed in getting the U.S. hostages out of our embassy in Tehran. In our 1978 meeting, the PLO leader had told me of his close relationship with the revolutionaries in Iran, and I saw this crisis as an opportunity for Arafat to help in a humanitarian cause and perhaps open the door for peaceful negotiations on a broader scale. This time Arafat was away from headquarters, but I had a long talk with his deputy, Mahmoud Labadi, whom I had met during my second interview with Arafat. 

He reminded me that Arafat had taken my advice on the United Nations confrontation but, in Labadi's words, "got nothing in return." He was right. No compromise resolution was ever accepted, and Arafat got little thanks. Labadi told me he disagreed with me regarding the situation in Iran but would report my arguments and recommendation carefully to his leader. Once more Arafat cooperated. He sent an envoy to Khomeini, and, according to Saunders, that envoy successfully arranged the release of the first eleven hostages. 

For this, the Carter Administration thanked Arafat privately very privately. Publicly, Carter spokesmen did nothing to discourage the unfounded speculation that the PLO had actually conspired with Iran to seize the hostages. CBS's Marvin Kalb reported darkly that "someone" had been heard speaking Arabic (Iranians speak Farsi, a different language altogether) inside the embassy compound. This somehow seemed to mean that the PLO was responsible. Yet the reverse was true. Just before he left office, Secretary of State Vance told me that he was in "almost daily" communication with Arafat and his staff enlisting PLO help during the protracted Iranian hostage ordeal, but he never said so in public. 

On several occasions during off-the-record meetings at the White House, I pleaded with the president to acknowledge publicly the moderate cooperative course chosen by Arafat and warned that failure to do so would strengthen more radical forces. Carter listened but never followed my advice. I learned later that Vice President Walter Mondale, more than any other personality in the Administration, had argued persuasively against any public statements which acknowledged PLO cooperation. 

Mahmoud Labadi never forgave Arafat for this cooperation. Three years later he deserted the PLO leader and joined the rebels laying siege to Arafat in Tripoli. In explaining his defection, Labadi denounced Arafat by denouncing the aid Carter had ignored, "He [Arafat] gave far too many concessions to the U.S. and to the Israelis and he got nothing back. We think that we should step up armed resistance against the Israeli occupation." Labadi and his defecting comrades turned their weapons against Arafat, predicting-wrongly that military measures could deliver for the Palestinian people what the PLO chief's diplomacy apparently could not. 

Throughout 1979 and 1980, while deploring Palestinian violence, I also did my utmost to get the Carter Administration to pressure Israel to halt its· repeated military attacks on Lebanon. Israel had begun periodic heavy bombing of villages and even areas in Beirut. The bombings were killing innocent civilians. Also, the planes and bombs were supplied by the United States. Finally Secretary of State Vance took an unusual step. He issued a formal written report to Congress stating that Israel "may have violated" the United States law which declared that United States-supplied weapons could be used only in self-defense. While the Administration did not take the next logical step of suspending military aid to Israel because the law was violated, the "may have violated" announcement made a point. It was one of those rare occasions when a United States administration has publicly rebuked Israel. 

Behind the scenes, Carter was tougher-but not for very long. He sent a diplomat to Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin's office during the summer of 1980 with a warning that U.S. aid to Israel would be imperiled if Israel's air attacks against Lebanon continued. The ultimatum got results. Begin backed down, immediately phoned his Air Force chief and ordered the attacks stopped. 

Later that summer Carter's resolve faded as the November elections approached. Israel resumed its use of U.S.-supplied weapons against Lebanon, but Carter fell silent. My protests were lonely on Capitol Hill and largely ignored by the makers of policy in the Administration.  

My efforts did not, however, go unnoticed elsewhere. I became something of a curiosity, if not a celebrity, appearing on national television, interviewed on the radio and quoted in newspapers and magazines internationally. At times it was heady stuff. Ed Franklin's mother must have marveled at how her letter had changed my life. 

Turmoil in the Middle West 

While I was organizing my one-man peace initiative, my critics were organizing to put me out of office. Partisan critics back home, who had watched my re-election margins reach landslide proportions I received 70 percent of the votes cast in 1978-correctly surmised that my unusual activities in foreign policy would provide them with the money to attack me in the upcoming elections. Beginning in the spring of 1979, an aggressive former state legislator, David Robinson, strongly encouraged by pro-Israel activists, began campaigning full time for the Democratic nomination for the Congressional seat I had held for nineteen years. Then, three months before the March 1980 primary, David Nuessen, the popular Republican mayor of Quincy, Illinois, entered the primary election, challenging my renomination in a professionally managed campaign that was supported substantially by pro-Israel political action committees and individuals. The contributions financed a relentless pummeling that bruised me more than I realized. I squeaked through the Republican primary with only 55 percent of the vote. 

It was a year of surprises, the greatest being the reaction to my candidacy of Dr. Arthur Burns, former chairman of the Federal Reserve Board and now ambassador to the Federal Republic of Germany. Just after the primary election, I explained my campaign plight during a telephone conversation on legislative matters, and Bus responded generously, "We simply cannot afford to lose you. Your re-election is very important to the entire nation." Gratified, I made a modest request: "If you would put those sentiments in a letter that I could use in the campaign, that would be a great help." 

His endorsement was not a high priority objective. In fact, I did not even think to ask for it until he praised my record. But I expected Burns to agree without hesitation. Why not? The courtesy was routine for a Republican as senior as I, and Burns had been not only a lifelong and outspoken Republican, but a close friend throughout my career in Congress. Several years earlier, at my request, he had spoken at the commencement program of my alma mater, Illinois College. Our views on economic and fiscal issues were the same. 

His answer was the deepest wound of a traumatic year: "Oh, I couldn't do that. It's your views on the PLO. I'm sorry." 

I was stupefied. I am used to surprises-and disappointments but this refusal left me speechless. 

A lesson? No event, before or since, disclosed to me so forcefully the hidden leverage of the Israeli lobby on the U.S, political scene. This great, kind, generous Jewish elder statesman, a personal friend for twenty years, could not ignore the lobby and say a public good word for my candidacy. I report this episode because, when a great man like Arthur Burns feels he must keep his views private, lesser men and women who would speak out face an enormous challenge. 

Meanwhile, Democrat Robinson solicited campaign contributions through advertising in Jewish newspapers from coast to coast, stirring up interest by calling me a "practicing anti-Semite, who is one of the worst enemies that Jews and Israel have ever faced in the history of the U.S. Congress." He drew funds from each of the fifty states. In all, the campaign cost $1.2 million-the most expensive in Illinois history. We each spent about $600,000. University students from New York and California, as well as other states, came to central Illinois to staff Robinson's phone banks and handle other campaign chores. 

"Dirty tricks" dogged me even when I wasn't campaigning and away from my district. The Chicago Council on Foreign Relations asked me to speak on foreign policy, and midway through my lecture on foreign policy one evening in Chicago, a man shouted from a doorway: "We've received a call. There's a bomb in the room." The crowd of 500 made a fast exit. The police later found a pipe loaded with bubble gum placed in the grand piano on the stage. Later, Robinson activists drove all the way to Detroit, Michigan, where I was a delegate to the Republican convention, to picket and to amuse onlookers with the chant, "Paul, Paul, he must go. He supports the PLO." 

Trapped on a Bus with Percy 

At first, my plight escaped the attention of the Reagan presidential campaign. In fact, when his scheduling office learned that I was having a fund-raising luncheon in Springfield, his manager asked if Reagan could stop by since he would be nearby that day. That unsolicited warmth quickly chilled. When he was scheduled to visit Illinois, New York City organizers warned Reagan's managers: "Appear friendly with Findley and you lose New York." This led them to take unusual measures to keep their candidate a safe distance from me. 

Springfield, located in the heart of my district, posed a problem, because it is the home of the first Republican president, Abraham Lincoln, and therefore a Mecca for Republicans. During a day in Illinois, a Republican presidential candidate simply could not pass by Springfield. The Reagan camp was concerned about how to make the expected pilgrimage and still keep me at arm's length. 

Greg Newell, chief of scheduling, first planned to finesse the problem by having Reagan deliver a major address from Lincoln's home at the very moment he knew I would be attending my major fundraiser of the year halfway across town. Just for insurance, Newell made it a deep finesse by moving Reagan's Springfield appearance all the way across town to the Lincoln Tomb instead of the home. He also scrubbed Reagan's speech, a decision to minimize press interest in the Springfield stop. 

I realized, however, that many of my supporters would also want to see Reagan when he came to town. To accommodate them (and ensure good attendance at my own function), I rescheduled my fundraiser early enough so those attending-myself included-could attend the Reagan appearance at the tomb. 

Reagan's manager passed an order quietly, or so they thought: "Under no circumstance is Findley to get near Reagan," even though elsewhere in Illinois, Congressional candidates were to appear on speaking platforms with him. Learning of the order, my manager, Don Norton, vented his outrage to Reagan headquarters. The Reagan team shifted gears again. This time they declared that all Congressmen were to be treated alike during the day in Illinois. None was to share the speaking platform with Reagan. Congressman Ed Madigan, irritated when told he must either speak before Reagan's arrival in Bloomington that day or wait until Reagan had left the platform, made no speech at all. 

At Springfield, Reagan campaign staffer Paul Russo had only one assignment, but it was an important one. He was to keep me out of camera range when Reagan was nearby. I was literally corralled behind a rope 50 feet away while Reagan was photographed in the ceremonial "rubbing Lincoln's nose" on a statue at the tomb entrance. 

At the next stop, a coal mine near Springfield, Russo's team tried to keep me on a bus and in the process trapped my friend, Senator Charles H. Percy, too. The purpose was to keep only me away from  Reagan during his remarks to the crowd. But Percy had the misfortune to be on the bus with me, so he too was detained. Together we managed to force the door open but only after Reagan had concluded his remarks and left the area. 

Bob Hope Backs Out 

The "panic" even spread to Hollywood. Bob Hope, who never wavered under enemy fire on war fronts in World War II and Korea and withstood heavy criticism for his support of President Nixon's Vietnam policies, encountered a new and more devastating line of fire when he agreed to appear at a fund-raising event for me in Springfield. 

Two years earlier I had organized a 75th birthday party for Hope in the House of Representatives. It was the most fun-filled moment in the House I can remember. Hope and his wife sat in the gallery as one Congressman after another voiced their praise of the great entertainer. The tributes filled 14 pages of the Congressional Record. 

Gratefully recalling the unique party, Hope agreed to help in my 1980 campaign. His manager, Ward Grant, knowing from the start that I was being opposed by pro-Israel activists because of my work on Middle East policy, declared, "We need men in Congress who speak their mind." 

Coast-to-coast pressure quickly brought a change. Don Norton recalls an urgent telephone message he received from Hope's manager: 

Grant told me that Hope was getting tremendous pressure from Jews and non Jews all over the country. He said it's gone to the point where Hope's lawyer of 35 years, who is Jewish, has threatened to quit. The pressure was beyond belief, like nothing they had ever experienced before, and Hope just couldn't come. 

Stunned, Norton pleaded that the event was widely publicized, all arrangements made, tickets sold and enthusiasm high. His plea was to no avail. When Norton told me of the crisis, I tried repeatedly to get a phone call through to Hope himself, hoping to persuade him to reconsider. 

Failing to get a call through, I wrote a confidential letter, giving Hope details of my unpublicized endeavors the year before to promote understanding between PLO leader Yasser Arafat and Robert Strauss, President Carter's special emissary to the Middle East. I sent him copies of messages I had transmitted at the request of the two leaders. I asked Hope to keep the information confidential, because then-as now-our government was maintaining a public posture of refusing to communicate with the PLO. This letter brought no response, nor were my phone calls answered.

A happy surprise. Strauss, himself Jewish and a prominent Democrat, agreed to help. Encountering Strauss one afternoon on the steps of the House of Representatives, I explained my problem and asked him if he would be willing to talk to Hope and explain to him that I got in hot water with certain Jews simply by trying to work for my country and for peace in the Middle East. 

By then Strauss had left his diplomatic post and was serving as chairman of Carter's ill-fated campaign for re-election. In a remarkable gesture of magnanimity to a Republican in the midst of a hotly contested election, Strauss agreed, adding: "Maybe I can help him understand the 'crazy' pressure he's getting." He gave me phone numbers where Hope could reach him. 

In a wire to Hope I said: "[Strauss) will be glad to talk with you or anyone about the value of my work and what he described as the 'crazy pressure' you have been receiving." 

By then, however, the "crazy" pressure had taken its toll, and Hope never made the call. I still have a souvenir of my chat with Strauss. It bears the phone number he gave me and my record of his parting words: "I wish you the best. I hope we both make it November 4, because we need to work together on the problems that remain." 

A few days later, I finally got a call through to Hope. He was not his usual bubbly self. I assured him it had never occurred to me that he would have such an avalanche of protest calls, but now that the event had been scheduled it would hurt if he failed to come. 

Hope interjected, "I read those letters you sent me. You should go public on this. Defend yourself with the facts." I said, "I just can't do that. It is highly secret information, and releasing it might hurt the peace process Carter is trying to advance." He paused, then said, "I just don't need this problem. I've been getting all these calls. It's too much pressure. I don't want to get involved." 

Hope did not come, but, happily, only one ticket holder asked for a refund. The sell-out crowd heard a stirring address by Congressman Guy Vander Jagt, who filled in at the last minute. 

Lobby pressures also intruded when former President Gerald R. Ford agreed to appear in my behalf, this time in Alton, Illinois. 

The first sign of trouble was a call from Palm Springs in which Ford's secretary reported that the former president had to cancel his date because his staff had mistakenly booked him to speak at a meeting of the Michigan Bar Association the same day. There was no other time that Ford could help me, the caller said, before election day. To determine if some accommodation was possible, my assistant, Bob Wichser, called the Michigan Bar Association, only to learn that there was no conflict-no event was scheduled. 

I was puzzled. I had worked closely with Ford during the 16 years he was Republican leader of the House, noting with admiration that he had never let disagreement on a policy issue keep him from campaigning for Republican Congressmen seeking re-election. When I finally reached Ford by phone, he said: "Paul, I've got to be up front with you. I've got to be candid. My problem is your relationship, your activities with the PLO and Arafat." 

The day before, Reagan had lambasted Carter for refusing to brand the PLO a terrorist organization. "This puts me in a difficult position," said Ford. "I'm trying to help Reagan. If I come out and support you, at every press conference, I will be badgered and dogged with the question of how I could campaign for Reagan and then go and support Findley with his views on the PLO." 

Despite these setbacks and the nationwide campaign against me, I won in 1980 with 56 percent of the vote. I felt that the worst was over,what more could the pro-Israeli activists do? Thus, I continued my peace endeavors. I did not anticipate the severe new challenges related to the Arab-Israeli dispute that were yet to come. In late 1981 a federal court, responding to shifts in population, ordered boundary changes in my district that eliminated Jacksonville, my old hometown, and added Decatur, the city with the nation's highest unemployment. Marginally Democratic before, my district was now substantially so. Then, too. recession fever was high and farmers were restless. 

When election time came around again two years later. I was unopposed in the primary, but a strong Democratic opponent, Richard Durbin, emerged in the general election. More experienced and popular, he quickly picked up the resources Robinson had amassed, including Robinson's list of nationwide contributors. The Associated Press reported that: "Israel's American supporters again are pouring money into an emotional drive to unseat Central Illinois Representative Paul Findley." On the plus side, Reagan lieutenants were helping this time. My former House colleague, Vice-President George Bush, brushed aside pro-Israeli complaints from Texas and appeared at an event in my behalf in Springfield. 

This time re-election was not to be. I lost by 1,407 votes, less than one percent of the total cast. In a vote that close, almost any negative development could account for the difference. The attack by pro-Israel activists was only one of several factors. Nevertheless, the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (A.I.P.A.C), Washington's principal pro Israel lobby, claimed credit for my defeat. In a report to a Jewish gathering in Austin, Texas, a few days after election day, Thomas A. Dine, the organization's executive director, said his forces brought 150 students from the University of Illinois to "pound the pavements and knock on doors" and concluded, ''This is a case where the Jewish lobby made a difference. We beat the odds and defeated Findley." He later estimated that $685,000 of the $750,000 raised by Durbin came from Jews. With my supporters raising almost exactly the same sum, the contest once again set a new state record for total spending. 

No Ready Answers 

The campaign to remove me from Congress had started early in 1979 and covered most of the next four years. It attracted the attention and resources of people in every state in the Union. Reports from friends suggested its national scope. Senator Bob Dole of Kansas, for six years my colleague on the House Agriculture Committee, said he heard pro-Israel leaders in Kansas speak with great emotional intensity about my candidacy both before and after election day. Clarence Palmby, former undersecretary of agriculture, learned that my defeat was the principal 1982 political objective of the partners in a large New York City law firm. 

After my twenty-two years in Congress, losing was, of course, a disappointment. But my main reaction was wonderment. I was puzzled by the behavior of the pro-Israel activists. Why did they go to such trouble to eliminate me from Congress? Why did people from all over the country who did not know me personally and very likely knew little of my record dig so deeply in their own pockets-many of them contributing $1,000 to my opponents? What sustained this commitment for a four-year period? 

Israeli activists could find few flaws in my voting record. Over the years I had voted consistently for aid to Israel. Sometimes I was highly critical of Egypt and other Arab states. Even when I was trying to get President Carter to suspend aid, as a temporary device to force Israel to halt its attacks on Lebanon, I had voted for all measures in Congress which authorized future Israeli military and economic assistance. Interestingly, many Israelis shared my views. According to polls, so did many U.S. Jews. Beyond Middle East policy, I had supported causes most Jews applauded: civil rights, community action programs, equal rights for women, a freeze on nuclear weapons and normalization of relations with China. 

Moreover, I was but one of 435 Members of the House of Representatives. While senior among the Republicans, I was just one of nine on the Foreign Affairs subcommittee dealing with the Middle East. More often than not I stood completely alone when I criticized Israel, whether I spoke in committee or on the floor of the House of Representatives. Surely they realized that I posed no serious threat. Could Israel's supporters not tolerate even one lonely voice of dissent? 

Or was the lobby's purpose to make an example of me in the Elizabethan manner? (According to legend, Queen Elizabeth occasionally hanged an admiral,just as an example to the others). Was I chosen for a trip to the political gallows to discourage other Congressmen from speaking out? 

I could not reconcile the harsh tactics I had experienced with traditional Jewish advocacy of civil liberties, a record I had admired all my life. In Congress, I had worked closely in support of human rights causes with Jewish Congressmen like Allard Lowenstein, Stephen Solarz and Ben Gilman. In my wonderment, I pressed Doug Bloomfield, a friend on the A.I.P.A.C staff, for an explanation. He shrugged, "You were the most visible critic of Israeli policy. That's the best answer I can give." It was hardly adequate. 

The unanswered question led to others. 

Do other Congressmen have similar experiences? To be sure, those who speak out are few in number, but it seemed implausible that the lobby would target me alone. I wanted the facts. 

Beyond Congress were the president and the vast array of "movers and shakers" in the executive branch. What pressures, if any, do they experience? A lobby formidable enough to frighten off a presidential campaign team and a former president of the United States-as Reagan and Ford had been in my 1980 election-must have great leverage at the highest levels of government. 

What of other occupations? The lobby had intimidated Bob Hope. Did it have similar power over people in different professions? On campus, for example, does the tradition of academic freedom give immunity to teachers and administrators from the kind of pressure I had received from the pro-Israeli activists? Do clergymen escape? How about people in business, large and small? And, vitally important in our free society, is there intimidation of reporters, columnists, editorial writers, publishers, the commentators on television and radio? 

Deep questions. To me, crucial questions. 

There were no ready answers, so I decided to seek them. I began my quest by calling at the Capitol Hill offices of the American Israel Public Affairs Committee. 

Chapter 1

King of the Hill 

Washington is a city of acronyms, and today one of the best-known in Congress is A.I.P.A.C. The mere mention of it brings a sober, if not furtive look, to the face of anyone on Capitol Hill who deals with Middle East policy. A.I.P.A.C-the American Israel Public Affairs Committee-is now the preeminent power in Washington lobbying. 

In 1967, as a fourth-term Congressman just named to the House Foreign Affairs Committee, I had never heard of it. One day, in private conversation in the committee room, I voiced a brief criticism of Israel's military attack on Syria. A senior Republican, William S. Broomfield of Michigan, responded with a smile, "Wait till 'Si' Kenen over at A.I.P.A.C hears what you've said." He was referring to I. L. Kenen, the executive director of A.I.P.A.C, whose name was just as unfamiliar to me as the organization he headed. I learned later that Broomfield was not joking. A.I.P.A.C sometimes finds out what Congressmen say about Middle East policy even in private conversations, and those who criticize Israel do so at their political peril. 

A.I.P.A.C is only a part of the Israeli lobby, but in terms of direct effect on public policy it is clearly the most important. The organization has deepened and extended its influence in recent years. It is no overstatement to say that A.I.P.A.C has effectively gained control of virtually all of Capitol Hill's action on Middle East policy. Almost without exception, House and Senate members do its bidding, because most of them consider A.I.P.A.C to be the direct Capitol Hill representative of a political force that can make or break their chances at election time. 

Whether based on fact or fancy, the perception is what counts: A.I.P.A.C means power-raw, intimidating power. Its promotional literature regularly cites a tribute published in The New York Times: "The most powerful, best-run and effective foreign policy interest group in Washington." A former Congressman, Paul N. "Pete" McCloskey puts it more directly: Congress is "terrorized" by A.I.P.A.C. Other Congressmen have not been so candid on the public record, but many House and Senate members privately agree. 

A.I.P.A.C's preeminence is relatively new. Only a few years ago the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations was regarded as the strongest pro-Israel voice in Washington, speaking as it did for the leadership of the 38 main Jewish groups. The Anti-Defamation League, American Jewish Committee and A.I.P.A.C were generally in its shadow. The latter two organizations have about 50,000 members each. The Anti-Defamation League is technically subordinate to B'nai B'rith with its worldwide membership of 500,000, but it raises its own funds and has attained substantial independence. Although prominent in their younger years, Washington representatives Hyman Bookbinder of the American Jewish Committee and Dave Brody of the Anti Defamation League are now substantially eclipsed by A.I.P.A.C. 

The Washington presence is only the most visible tip of the lobby. Its effectiveness rests heavily on the foundation built nationally by U.S. Jews, who function through more than 200 national groups. A professional on the A.I.P.A.C staff says: 

I would say that at most two million Jews are interested politically or in a charity sense. The other four million are not. Of the two million, most will not be involved beyond giving some money. 

Actually, those who provide the political activism for all organizations in U.S. Jewry probably do not exceed 250,000. The lobby's most popular newsletter, A.I.P.A.C's Near East Report, goes to about 60,000 people, a distribution that the organization believes is read by most U.S. citizens who take a responsibility in pro-Israeli political action, whether their primary interest is A.I.P.A.C, B'nai B'rith, the American Jewish Committee, the Anti-Defamation League, the Jewish National Fund, the United Jewish Appeal or any of the other main national groups. The newsletter also goes without charge to news media, Congressmen, key government officials, and other people prominent in foreign policy. A.I.P.A.C members get the newsletter as a part of their $35 annual dues. 

In practice, the lobby groups function as an informal extension of the Israeli government. This was illustrated when A.I.P.A.C helped draft the official statement defending Israel's 1981 bombing of the Iraqi nuclear reactor, then issued it the same hour as Israel's embassy. 

No major Jewish organization ever publicly takes issue with positions and policies adopted by Israel. Thomas A. Dine, executive director of A.I.P.A.C, spoke warmly of President Reagan's peace plan when it was announced in September 1982, but as soon as Israel rejected the plan, Dine fell silent. 

This close coordination sometimes inspires intra-government humor. "At the State Department we used to predict that if Israel's prime minister should announce that the world is flat, within 24 hours Congress would pass a resolution congratulating him on the discovery," recalls Don Bergus, former ambassador to Sudan and a retired career diplomat. 

To Jewish organizations, however, lobbying Washington is serious business, and they look increasingly to A.I.P.A.C for leadership. Stephen S. Rosenfeld, deputy editor of The Washington Post editorial page, rates A.I.P.A.C as "clearly the leading Jewish political force in America today." 

A.I.P.A.C's charter defines its mission as legislative action, but it now also represents the interests of Israel whenever there is a perceived challenge to that country's interests in the news media, the religious community, on U.S. college campuses--anywhere. Because A.I.P.A.C's staff members are paid from contributions by American citizens, they need not register under the Foreign Agents Registration Act. In effect, however, they serve the same function as foreign agents. 

Over the years the pro-Israel lobby has thoroughly penetrated this nation's governmental system, and the organization that has made the deepest impact is A.I.P.A.C, to whom even the president of the United States turns when he has a vexing political problem related to the Arab-Israeli dispute. 

The Ascendancy of Thomas A. Dine 

Faced with rising public opposition to the presence of U.S. Marines in Lebanon, President Ronald Reagan in October 1983 sought help from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee. The terrorist bombing which killed more than 200 Marines asleep in their barracks at the Beirut airport was yet to come. Still, four Marines had already died, three by sniper fire, and Congressional concern was rising. Democratic Congressman Sam Stratton of New York, a veteran known for his "hawkish" views, called the Marines "sitting ducks" and predicted heavy casualties. He wanted them out. 

Others cited the War Powers Resolution and questioned whether the president had authority to keep forces in a hostile environment such as Beirut for more than 90 days without the express approval of Congress. Some Congressmen began drawing parallels between the Marine presence in Lebanon and the beginnings of the disastrous U.S. experience in Vietnam. 

President Reagan objected, as did his predecessors, to the restrictions imposed by the War Powers legislation. If he accepted its terms, he would have to withdraw the forces within 90 days or get Congress to approve an extension. If he insisted that the law did not apply because the situation was not hostile, events might quickly prove him wrong and, regardless, he would have a rebellious Congress on his hands. 

He decided to finesse the problem. He asked Congress for legislation letting him keep the existing force of Marines in Lebanon for 18 months. This would please the "strict constructionists" who felt the chief executive must live with the War Powers Resolution. It would suit his own needs, because he was confident that the orderly removal of the Marines would occur within the 18-month period. 

Thanks to extraordinary help from an unlikely quarter, Reagan's plan had relatively clear sailing in the House of Representatives. Speaker Thomas P. "Tip" O'Neill, the most prominent elected Democrat in the nation, gave the legislation his strong support. To O'Neill, it was a question of patriotism, and enough Democrats answered his call to assure passage in the Democrat-controlled body. 

But the Senate, although controlled by his fellow Republicans, posed a more difficult problem for the president. A "nose count" showed a close vote and probably even defeat. The president decided he needed help and enlisted the cooperation of Thomas A. Dine, the slender, aggressive, dark-haired young Capitol Hill staff veteran who has headed A.I.P.A.C since 1981. 

Reagan's appeal to Dine for support on the Marine issue was without precedent. The pending bill contained no money for Israel, and A.I.P.A.C and other Israeli lobby groups had kept hands off the Lebanon controversy. Pro-Israeli forces did not want other Americans to blame Israel if the Marines should encounter more trouble. Certainly Israel already bore responsibility enough for U.S. problems in Lebanon. It had discreetly but effectively helped to engineer the original Marine presence in Beirut by agreeing to withdraw its forces from Beirut in favor of a multinational force provided the United States were included. (The multinational force would have been unnecessary had Israel not invaded Lebanon in the first place.) Though A.I.P.A.C privately wanted the Marines to stay in Lebanon, under the circumstances its leadership preferred to stay in the background. 

The White House call to Dine was exceptional for another reason: Reagan needed help with Senators who were normally his most stalwart supporters. The president was unsure of the votes of twelve Republicans, among them John Warner of Virginia, Dan Quayle of Indiana, William Cohen of Maine and James A. McClure of Idaho. All were generally regarded as "hawkish" on military questions and, except for McClure, strong supporters of Israel. Learning of the presidential plea, one A.I.P.A.C staffer said: "If the White House is worried about those votes, the bill is going down." 

Despite its reluctance to get involved publicly in the sensitive issue, A.I.P.A.C made the calls. Nine of the twelve Senators, including the four mentioned above, voted with the president and helped him win a narrow 54 to 46 victory. 

A.I.P.A.C's role in the outcome was not noted in most media reports on the dramatic event, but an elated President Reagan called Dine personally to express his thanks. Michael Gale, then handling White House relations with the Jewish community, provided a transcript of the conversation with the suggestion that A.I.P.A.C publicize it. A.I.P.A.C declined, preferring to maintain its low profile on the issue, so Gale gave the text to Wolf Blitzer of The Jerusalem Post. who formerly wrote for A.I.P.A.C's Near East Report. The Post quoted Reagan as saying to Dine, "I just wanted to thank you and all your staff for the great assistance you gave us on the War Powers Act resolution .... I know how you mobilized the grass root organizations to generate support." 

"Well, we try to use the telephone," responded Dine. "That's part of our job. And we wanted to do it and will continue to do it .... We want to work together, obviously." 

Work together they have. The Reagan executive branch established a relationship with A.I.P.A.C of unprecedented intimacy. It was not the first time the White House or the State Department had turned to the lobbying group for help. Although these high level approaches are little known even on Capitol Hill, they actually occur every time foreign aid legislation is up for a vote. Whoever controls the White House finds that securing Congressional approval of foreign aid is a challenge and, as the legislation includes economic and military aid to Israel, naturally looks to A.I.P.A.C for help. Except for a few humanitarian and church-related organizations, A.I.P.A.C serves foreign aid's only domestic constituency. 

Without A.I.P.A.C, foreign aid legislation would not be approved at the $7 billion-plus level of 1983 and might have difficulty surviving at all. A candid tribute to the lobby came from John K. Wilhelm, the executive director of the presidential commission that made recommendations in late 1983 on the future direction of foreign aid. Briefing a world hunger board at the State Department in January 1984, Wilhelm, a career veteran in the Agency for International Development, said the active support of the pro-Israeli lobby was "vital" to Congressional approval of foreign aid. In the early 1960's when aid to Israel was modest-less than $100 million a year-a foreign-aid bill squeaked through the House of Representatives by a scant five votes. A.I.P.A.C was then in its infancy. 

A.I.P.A.C also crafted the strategy which produced a $510 million increase in 1983 aid for Israel-an increase which was astonishing because it came just after the indiscriminate bombing of Beirut and the failure of Israeli forces to halt the massacre of Palestinian refugees in the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps, events that aroused unprecedented public criticism of Israeli policy. 

The administration opposed the increase but was outmaneuvered. By the time Judge William Clark, at the time National Security Adviser to President Reagan, sent an urgent appeal to Republican Senator Mark Hatfield to block the increase, the issue was settled. A.I.P.A.C had already locked in support by persuading a majority on the Appropriations Committee that the add-on was a simple question of being for or against Israel. No one wanted to champion the negative side. 

A.I.P.A.C had already confounded the administration on the House side, where the White House had argued against the increase for budgetary reasons, contending it would be at the expense of other needy countries. This argument was demolished when A.I.P.A.C lobbyists presented elaborate data showing how the extra aid to Israel could be accomplished without cutting support for other countries. An A.I.P.A.C lobbyist summed up: "The administration lobbyists really didn't do their homework. They didn't have their act together." By 1984 the aid level had risen to over $2 billion a year-all of it in grants with no repayment-and the approval margin was 112. 

In February 1983, Secretary of State George Shultz named a "blue ribbon" panel of prominent citizens to recommend changes in the foreign aid program. Of the 42 on the commission, 27 were Senators or House members with primary responsibility for handling foreign aid legislation. The others had prominence in administering foreign aid in years past. 

Only one full-time lobbyist was named to the panel: A.I.P.A.C's executive director, Thomas A. Dine. It was the first time to my knowledge that a lobbyist had been selected for such a prestigious government assignment, and Dine's selection was particularly surprising because it put him in a close working relationship with the handful of people who formulate and carry out policy on the very matter A.I.P.A.C was set up to influence-aid to Israel. 

A more enviable position for a lobbyist could hardly be imagined. Former Senator James Abourezk, head of the American-Arab Anti Discrimination Committee, commented:

It would make as much sense to let the president of Lockheed Corporation serve on a Defense Department board which decides what planes our air force will buy. 

In November, Dine took an even bigger step up the ladder of Washington prestige and influence. He was invited to the White House for a private meeting with National Security Adviser Robert C. McFarlane, President Reagan's closest adviser on day-to-day policy in the Middle East. On the agenda were two foreign policy topics of great sensitivity: the Lebanese situation and the proposal to help Jordan establish a rapid deployment force. Both of these issues, of course, were of vital interest to Israel. Dine's invitation came just a week after he received the President's jubilant phone call. 

In January 1984 Washingtonian magazine listed Dine among the most influential people in the nation's capital. 

Dine's reputation has even stirred Arab capitals. In mid-March 1984 King Hussein of Jordan publicly blamed A.I.P.A.C, in part, for the decline in U.S. influence and leadership for peace in the Middle East. He also criticized the inordinate influence of the Israeli lobby on U.S. presidential candidates. He said the candidates had to "appeal for the favors of A.I.P.A.C, Zionism and Israel." 

One development which especially provoked the king was that, for ten days beginning in mid-March 1984, Dine personally took part in direct foreign policy negotiations with Undersecretary of State Lawrence S. Eagleburger and National Security Adviser McFarlane. During one session, Eagleburger offered to withdraw a widely publicized proposal to sell anti aircraft missiles to Jordan if A.I.P.A.C would drop its support of legislation requiring the removal of the U.S. embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. 

By then, King Hussein's sharp criticism of the United States and A.I.P.A.C,had appeared in U.S. newspapers, and Dine knew it had strengthened Congressional opposition to the sale. At the time Eagleburger made his proposition, A.I.P.A.C already had 48 Senators committed in opposition and received pledges from six more the next day. Thus A.I.P.A.C was able to kill the sale without cutting a deal on other issues. 

After he rejected Eagleburger's offer, Dine promised that A.I.P.A.C would cease active opposition to a proposal to help Jordan establish a rapid deployment force and would lobby to work out a compromise on the bill to transfer the U.S. embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem if the administration would take two important steps: first, refuse to sell Stinger anti aircraft missiles to Saudi Arabia, and, second, issue a public letter announcing that it would engage in no further indirect communications with the Palestine Liberation Organization. Although the public letter did not appear, the administration backed away from the Stinger sales to both Saudi Arabia and Jordan. 

Dine emerged from these negotiations with his prestige greatly enhanced. Richard Murphy, assistant secretary of state for Near East and South Asia affairs, the official charged with the development and administration of United States policies relating to the Middle East, was not invited to the Eagleburger-McFarlane-Dine negotiations, nor was he notified of the administration decision to cancel the proposed sale of Stinger missiles until twelve hours after A.I.P.A.C received the information. 

The Washington Post concluded that the episode "raised questions about the propriety of the administration's making deals on foreign policy issues with a private, special-interest organization." Dine had a ready response: "We think it's better to be strong and criticized, than weak, ignored and not respected." 

In part, the unprecedented presidential consideration was a tribute to Dine's combination of ingratiating manner, tough, relentless spirit and sheer dynamism. Under Dine, A.I.P.A.C's membership has risen from 11,000 to over 50,000, and its annual budget from $750,000 to more than $3,000,000. 

Dine's influence is felt in power centers beyond the Oval Office. He receives calls from presidential candidates as well as presidents and reports that former Vice-President Walter Mondale "bounces ideas off us" before he issues statements on Middle East policy. 

Most Congressional actions affecting Middle East policy are either approved or initiated by A.I.P.A.C. 

Broadening the Network 

To accomplish these feats for Israel-sometimes cooperating with the president of the United States, sometimes not,A.I.P.A.C director Dine utilizes a team of hard-driving, able professionals and keeps them working together smoothly. 

He keeps policy lines clear and the troops well-disciplined. A.I.P.A.C's role is to support Israel's policies, not to help formulate them, so A.I.P.A.C maintains daily telephone communication with the Israeli embassy, and Dine meets personally with embassy officials at least once a week. 

Though A.I.P.A.C has a staff of only 60,small in comparison to other major U.S. Jewish organizations-it taps the resources of a broad nationwide network of unpaid activists. Annual membership meetings in Washington are a major way to rally the troops. Those attending hear prominent U.S. and Israeli speakers, participate in workshops and seminars, and contribute financially to the cause. The conferences attract top political talent: the Israeli ambassador, senior White House and State Department officials, prominent Senators and House members. Recent conferences featured Senators Paul Laxalt of Nevada, Joseph Biden of Delaware, Robert Kasten of Wisconsin, Christopher Dodd of Connecticut, Robert Packwood of Oregon, Robert Dole of Kansas, and Daniel Inouye of Hawaii. 

The White House is also well represented at such conferences. Vice-President George Bush recently assured A.I.P.A.C delegates that the Reagan administration will keep fighting against Antisemitism at the United Nations and criticized the three Democratic presidential candidates-Walter Mondale, Gary Hart and Jesse Jackson-for being "soft on Antisemitism." 

More than 1,200 representatives from 41 states attended A.I.P.A.C's 1983 national gathering. They heard Congressman Jack Kemp of New York, chairman of the Republican caucus in the House of Representatives, describe himself as "a de facto member of A.I.P.A.C." Forty-three House members and sixteen Senators attended the conference banquet. 

Art Chotin, deputy executive director of A.I.P.A.C, reported to the group that during the previous year ten different statewide workshops on political involvement had given the "pro-Israeli community" the "skills they need to have an impact." Ten more were planned for 1984. Chotin illustrated the national impact of these local events by pointing out that a 1982 workshop in New Mexico had helped elect Democrat Jeffrey Bingaman to the Senate. Bingaman, described by Chotin as "a strong pro-Israeli voice in Washington," was among the 100 "pro Israeli citizens" attending the 1983 affair. 

Tightly scheduled workshops, similar to the national conferences, are conducted annually in each of five regions. The "capitals" are Atlanta, Fort Worth, Hollywood, Des Moines and Chicago, and from each a chairperson coordinates all A.I.P.A.C regional activities. To help these outreach programs, A.I.P.A.C now has full-time staff located in New York, New Jersey and California. 

Chotin told the conference that during the 1982 Congressional elections, 300 candidates "came to visit A.I.P.A.C" to explain their positions on ''foreign aid, arms sales to Arab nations, and the general nature of U.S.-Arab relations." 

Ties with other interest groups are carefully cultivated. Christian outreach was announced as A.I.P.A.C's newest national program, and Merrie White, a "born-again Christian," was introduced as the director of relations with the Christian community. According to Chotin, the goal was nothing less than to "bring that community into A.I.P.A.C." He noted the presence of 50 Christians representing 35 states as evidence of progress already made toward this end. White helped organize the annual Religious Round table Prayer Breakfast for Israel the following February (see chapter nine). Chris Gersten, A.I.P.A.C's political director, came to the position after seven years as special assistant to the president of the International Union of Operating Engineers. 

A.I.P.A.C's coast-to-coast outreach is enhanced by its speaking program. Its officers, staff members and representatives filled over 900 dates in 1982 alone. Receptions are held in scores of smaller cities. "Parlor briefings" in the homes of Jewish leaders nationally help raise money to supplement revenue from membership dues. Social events on Capitol Hill help spread the word to the thousands of high school and college students who work as interns in the offices of Senators and Congressmen or in committee offices. 

Tours of Israel which other Jewish groups arrange help to establish a grassroots base for A.I.P.A.C's program. For example, in April 1982, the Young Leadership Mission, an activity of United Jewish Appeal, conducted 1,500 U.S. Jews on one week tours. "The visitors were given a view of the magnificence you will find in any country," observes an A.I.P.A.C staff member. He said the tour had profound impact: "It built spirit for the cause, and it raised money. The pitch for funds was the final event. It came right after the folks walked out of the memorial to the Holocaust." The effect was awesome: "The tour directors have it down to a science," he reports. "They know how to hit all the buttons." The United Jewish Appeal and Israel share the proceeds. Larry Kraftowitz, a Washington journalist who attended a similar tour, calls the experience "profound." He adds, "I consider myself more sympathetic to the New Jewish Agenda goals than current Israeli government policy, but I must say I was impressed." 

Tours are not just for Jews. Governors, members of state legislatures, and community leaders, including news media personnel, are also given the opportunity for expense-paid tours of Israel. 'Trips are also arranged for leaders nationally, especially those on Capitol Hill. While A.I.P.A.C does not itself conduct the tours, it facilitates the process. Over half the membership of Congress has traveled to Israel, about half going on what is deemed official business at the expense of the U.S. government. With few exceptions, Jewish organizations or individuals paid the expenses of the rest. 

Another group of potentially influential-but often overlooked Washington functionaries that A.I.P.A.C tries to influence is made up of Congressional staffers. A.I.P.A.C works with Israeli universities who arrange expense-paid tours for staff members who occupy key positions. These annual trips are called the Hal Rosenthal program, named for a staff aide to former Republican Senator Jacob Javits who was gunned down by a Palestinian terrorist on the first such trip. By 1984 over 50 Congressional staffers had participated.[I highly doubt Rosenthal was killed by a Palestinian terrorist,I have some information on him that needs to stand alone in it's own right.I will post that in the very next post after this one DC]

A.I.P.A.C is as successful at keeping lawmakers from visiting Arab countries as it is in presenting only Israel's views. When the National Association of Arab Americans, working through the World Affairs Council of Amman, invited all Congressmen and their spouses to an expense-paid tour of Jordan with a side trip to the West Bank in 1983, a notice in A.I.P.A.C's Near East Report quickly chilled prospects for participation. It questioned how Amman, without Israeli cooperation, could get the tourists across the Jordan river for events scheduled in the West Bank. It also quoted Don Sundquist, a Republican Congressman from Tennessee, as expressing "fear" that if any of his colleagues accepted the trip they would be "used" by anti-Israeli propagandists. Only three Congressmen made the trip. A 1984 tour was cancelled for lack of acceptances. 

A.I.P.A.C's outreach program is buttressed by a steady stream of publications. In addition to "Action Alerts" and the weekly Near East Report, it issues position papers and monographs designed to answer, or often discredit, critics, and advance Israel's objectives. 

The most controversial publication of all is an "enemies list" issued as a "first edition" in the spring of 1983. A handsomely printed 154-page paperback entitled The Campaign to Discredit Israel, it provides a "directory of the actors": 21 organizations and 39 individuals A.I.P.A.C identified as inimical to Israeli interests. 

Included are such distinguished public servants as former Undersecretary of State George W. Ball, retired ambassadors Talcott Seelye, Andrew Killgore, John C. West and James Akins, and former Senator James Abourezk. There are also five Jewish dissenters and several scholars on the list. 

Seemingly unaware of the AIPAC project, the Anti-Defamation League of B'nai B'rith almost simultaneously issued its own "enemies list": Pro-Arab Propaganda in America: Vehicles and Voices. It too is identified as a "first edition," and lists 31 organizations and 34 individuals. These books are nothing more than blacklists, reminiscent of the worst tactics of the McCarthy era. 

A similar "enemies list" is employed in A.I.P.A.C's extensive program at colleges and universities (see chapter seven). 

"They Get the Word Out Fast" 

Through "Action Alert" mailings A.I.P.A.C keeps more than one thousand Jewish leaders throughout the United States informed on current issues. An "alert" usually demands action to meet a legislative challenge on Capitol Hill, requesting a telephone call, telegram or, if need be, a personal visit to a reluctant Congressman. 

The network can have almost instantaneous effect. One day I whispered to a colleague in the Foreign Affairs Committee I might offer an amendment to a pending bill cutting aid to Israel. Within 30 minutes two other Congressmen came to me with worried looks, reporting they had just had calls from citizens in their home districts who were concerned about my amendment. 

Paul Weyrich, who worked as a Senate aide before becoming a political analyst, details the effectiveness of A.I.P.A.C: 

It's a remarkable system they have. If you vote with them, or make a public statement they like, they get the word out fast through their own publications and through editors around the country who are sympathetic to their cause. 

Of course it works in reverse as well. If you say something they don't like, you can be denounced or censured through the same network. That kind of pressure is bound to affect Senators' thinking, especially if they are wavering or need support. 

This activism is carried out by an elaborate system of officers, committees and councils which give A.I.P.A.C a ready, intimate system for political activity from coast to coast. Its nineteen officers meet once a month to confer with Dine on organization and management. Each of its five vice-presidents can expect eventually to serve a term as president. A large executive committee totaling 132 members is invited to Washington every three months for briefings. A national council lists over 200 names. These subgroups include the leadership of most major U.S. Jewish organizations. 

The A.I.P.A.C staff is not only highly professional and highly motivated but also thoroughly experienced. Director Dine worked in several Capitol Hill jobs, first on the staff of Democratic Senator Edward Kennedy, later on the Foreign Relations Committee under Democratic Senator Frank Church of Idaho, and finally as staff director on foreign policy for the Senate budget committee. 

A.I.P.A.C's four lobbyists are Douglas Bloomfield, Ralph Nurnberger, Esther Kurz and Leslie L. Levy. All but Levy worked in foreign policy for a Senator or Congressman before joining A.I.P.A.C. Levy came to A.I.P.A.C as a student intern and advanced within the organization. 

Bloomfield, once an intern under Democratic Senator Hubert Humphrey of Minnesota, worked for 10 years for Democratic Congressman Ben Rosenthal of New York. Nurnberger worked for several years on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and for Republican Senator James Pearson of Kansas. Kurz worked, in succession, for Democratic Congressman Charles Wilson of Texas, and Republican Senators Jacob Javits of New York and Arlen Specter of Pennsylvania. 

The four divide up the membership of the House and Senate. Actually, only a handful of legislators are keys to success, so each of the four lobbyists needs to watch carefully only about thirty lawmakers. They concentrate on legislators from the twelve states which have a Jewish population of at least three percent: New York, New Jersey, California, Massachusetts, Ohio, Illinois, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Delaware, Florida and Connecticut. 

The movement from Congressional staff job to A.I.P.A.C also occasionally works the other way. A few veterans of A.I.P.A.C have moved to government assignments, among them Jonathan Slade, now with Democratic Congressman Larry Smith of Florida, and Marvin Feuerwerger, who was with Democratic Congressman Stephen Solarz of New York before he joined the Policy Planning Staff at the State Department. Both Smith and Solarz are members of the Foreign Affairs Committee, and both are passionate supporters of Israel. 

Lobbyists for A.I.P.A.C have almost instant access to House and Senate members and feel free to call them at their homes in the evening. Republican Congressman Douglas Bereuter of Nebraska, an exception, will receive no lobbyists, A.I.P.A.C or otherwise, but the doors are wide open to A.I.P.A.C lobbyists at the offices of almost all other Congressmen. A Congressional aide explained why: 

Professionalism is one reason. They know what they are doing, get to the point and leave. They are often a useful source of information. They are reliable and friendly. But most important of all, they are seen by Congressmen as having direct and powerful ties to important constituents. 

The result is a remarkable cooperation and rapport between lobbyist and legislator. Encountered in a Capitol corridor one day, an A.I.P.A.C lobbyist said, "Tomorrow I will try to see five members of the House. I called this morning and confirmed every appointment, and I have no doubt I will get in promptly." Two days later, even he seemed somewhat awed by A.I.P.A.C's clout. He reported, "I made all five. I went right in to see each of them. There was no waiting. Our access is amazing." 

This experience contrasts sharply with the experience of most other lobbyists on Capitol Hill. One veteran lobbyist reflected with envy on the access A.I.P.A.C enjoys: "If I can actually see two Congressmen or Senators in one long day, it's been a good one." 

Despite its denials, A.I.P.A.C keeps close records on each House and Senator member. Unlike other lobbies, which keep track only of a few "key" issues voted on the House or Senate floor, A.I.P.A.C takes note of other activities, too-votes in committees, co-sponsorship of bills, signing of letters and even whether speeches are made. "That's depth!" exclaims an admiring Capitol Hill staff member. 

An illustration of lobby power occurred October 3, 1984, when the House of Representatives approved a bill to remove all trade restrictions between the United States and Israel; 98.5 percent (416) voted affirmative, despite the strong opposition of the A.F.L-C.I.O and the American Farm Bureau Federation. The vote was 416 to 6 on legislation that normally would elicit heavy reaction because of its effect on markets for commodities produced in the United States. 

As they voted, few were aware of a Commerce Department study which found that the duty-free imports proposed in the bill would cause "significant adverse effects" on U.S. producers of vegetables. Because the White House wanted the bill passed, notwithstanding its effects on jobs and markets, the study was classified "confidential" and kept under wraps. One Congressman finally pried a copy loose by complaining bitterly-and correctly-to the White House that A.I.P.A.C had secured a copy for its own use. 

"I Cleared It with AlPAC" 

Until his defeat in an upset on November 6, 1984, Congressman Clarence D. "Doc" Long, a 74-year-old Democrat of Maryland, exemplified the strong ties between A.I.P.A.C and Capitol Hill. He delivered for Israel as chairman of the House Appropriations Subcommittee which handles aid to Israel. 

The tall, gray-haired, former economics professor at Johns Hopkins University trumpeted his support: "A.I.P.A.C made my district their number one interest." A.I.P.A.C supported Long for a good reason: He held the gavel when questions about funding Israeli aid come up. The lobby wanted him to keep it. Chairmanships normally are decided by seniority, and next in line after Long is David Obey of Wisconsin, who earned lobby disfavor in 1976 by offering an amendment to cut aid to Israel by $200 million. "Doc" Long never had any misgivings about aid to Israel and helped his colleagues defeat Obey's amendment, 342 to 32. 

Sitting at a table in the House of Representatives restaurant during a late House session in 1982, Long explained. 

Long ago I decided that I'd vote for anything A.I.P.A.C wants. I didn't want them on my back. My district is too difficult. I don't need the trouble [pro-Israeli lobbyists] can cause. I made up my mind I would get and keep their support. [In other words he was about the devil's work DC]

The conversation turned to one of Obey's questions about the high levels of Israeli aid. Long said, "I can't imagine why Dave would say things like that." A. colleague chided: "Maybe he's thinking about our own national interest." 

In September 1983, Long led a battle to get U.S. Marines out of Lebanon. He proposed an amendment which would have cut funding for the operation in 60 days. John Hall, a reporter who knew Long's close ties with the lobby, asked Long, "Are you sure this amendment won't get you in trouble?" Without hesitation, the Congressman replied: "I cleared it with A.I.P.A.C." He was not joking. Though this was not the first Congressional proposal to be cleared in advance with the Israeli lobby, it was the first time the clearance had been specifically acknowledged in the public record. The proposal to cut aid to Lebanon provoked a lively debate but, opposed by such leaders as Speaker "Tip" O'Neill and Lee Hamilton of Indiana, chairman of the Subcommittee on Europe and the Middle East, the measure failed, 274-153. 

Although heavily supported by pro-Israeli interests-18 pro-Israel political action committees chipped in $31,250 for Long's 1982 reelection campaign-Long denies a personal linkage: 

Nobody has to give me money to make me vote for aid to Israel. I've been doing that for 20 years, most of the time without contributions. 

The money and votes Israel's supporters provided to Long's candidacy were insufficient in 1984. Although pro-Israel P.A.C's gave him $155,000,four times the amount that went to any other House candidate,Long lost by 5,727 votes, less than three percent of those cast. A factor in his defeat was advertising sponsored by people prominent in the National Association of Arab Americans which attacked Long for his uncritical support of Israel's demands. Obey, Long's likely successor as chairman, was the only Democrat on the panel who did not accept money from pro-Israel political action committees. 

Outreach on an International Scale 

A.I.P.A.C not only champions Israel's causes in the U.S., but its international ambitions as well. The lobby recently began an international outreach program, serving Israel's interests by facilitating U.S. aid to other countries. In 1983 it tried to help Zaire, Israel's new African friend. Israel wanted Zaire to get $20 million in military assistance requested by President Reagan, but A.I.P.A.C decided against assigning the lobbying task to its regular staff. Instead, it secured the temporary services of a consultant who button-holed members of the House Committee on Foreign Affairs. The amendment failed, but the effort helped to pay Israel's obligation incurred when Zaire extended full diplomatic recognition to Israel the previous year. 

Columnists Rowland Evans and Robert Novak viewed the initiative as the first step in an Israeli program "to broker aid favors for other pariahs on the congressional hit list to enhance its influence." They described this new effort by Israel as "an exercise of domestic political power by a foreign nation that raises troubling questions." 

While branching out internationally, A.I.P.A.C maintains strong influence in domestic partisan campaigns. It took a major role in the intense 1984 contest for the Senate in North Carolina, which involved an expensive showdown between Jesse Helms, the Republican incumbent, who is proud to be viewed as the apostle of conservatism, and Democratic Governor Jim Hunt, who sees himself as a leader in the progressive politics in the "New South." These adversaries were of one mind, however, in soliciting the pro-Israel vote, and the endeavor led Helms into surprising activity. The contest took on special national importance because Helms, as second-ranking Republican on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, could have chosen to head the committee after the defeat of Senator Charles Percy (see chapter three). 

In his program to win pro-Israel support, Helms had to overcome major obstacles. In a 1979 speech, Helms had warned that Israeli West Bank policies were "the block to a comprehensive settlement" of the Arab-Israeli dispute. During Israel's invasion of Lebanon in 1982, Helms made a speech in which he suggested that the United States might ultimately need to "shut down" relations with Israel. 

High on Helms's hate list is foreign aid, which he considers to be the "the greatest racket of all time." He proclaims proudly, "I have not voted to send one dime overseas for these programs." 

Because aid to Israel is included in the foreign aid he opposed, Hunt charged that Helms had voted against Israel no fewer than 25 times. He also criticized Helms sharply for voting in favor of controversial military sales to Saudi Arabia. 

Hunt's campaign team sought to exploit these "mistakes" with a letter to pro-Israel financial prospects mailed in an envelope conspicuously labeled: "Caution: the enclosed information is extremely damaging to the state of Israel." The damage was identified as the prospect that Helms might become an anti-Israel chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee. This form of fundraising brought good results: a Helms staff member said, "We calculate that 60 percent of Hunt's money is from the Jewish community." By mid-August Hunt had received $130,350 from pro-Israel political action committees, Helms zero. 

Helms launched a counterattack designed to mend his relations with backers of Israel. In May he personally introduced a visiting Likud member of the Israeli parliament on the Senate floor and had the text of his guest's foreign policy statement inserted in the Congressional Record. He seemed to contradict an earlier statement criticizing Israeli policies in occupied areas when he told the Senate that the United States "should never pursue any plan that envisions a separation of the West Bank from Israel." 

Helms's skill in playing both sides was demonstrated in his stand on a proposed bill to move the U.S. embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. Although he declined to co-sponsor the bill because of "grave legal questions" and its "uncertain" constitutionality, Helms urged President Reagan to order the removal of the embassy without special legislation. 

In a remarkable counter move, Helms's campaign sent a fund appeal to Jewish citizens which expressed anguish that any Jew would consider opposing Helms in light of his "friendship" for Israel. 

In the contest, the most expensive non-presidential campaign in history, Helms spent over $13 million and Hunt over $8 million. When the polls closed, Helms had eked out a narrow victory. 

Beyond A.I.P.A.C to the P.A.C's 

A.I.P.A.C differs from most lobbies, in that it avoids endorsing candidates publicly and does not raise or spend money directly in partisan campaigns. Campaign involvement is left officially to pro-Israel political action committees (P.A.C's). Over 3,000 P.A.C's are registered under federal law, and almost all are directly affiliated with special-interest lobbies. There are 75 P.A.C's which focus on support for Israel, though none lists an affiliation with A.I.P.A.C or any other Jewish organization. 

Prior to 1979, pro-Israeli financial support to candidates and party organizations came entirely from individuals. Some of these individuals focused heavily on an Ohio Congressional race in 1976, the candidacy of Mary Rose Oakar, who was to become the first person of Syrian ancestry elected to Congress. A popular member of the Cleveland city council, she confronted a field of twelve male Democrats and an avalanche of Jewish money in the primary election race. Pro-Israeli interests selected State Senator Tony Celebreze, regarded as a "comer" in Ohio politics, as the candidate with the best chance to nudge her from the nomination. 

During the campaign Dennis Heffernan, a fundraiser for Celepreze, was asked by a surprised and uneasy colleague to explain why more than thirty "Jewish-appearing" names were each recorded as donating $1,000. 

"What's going on here?" he asked, wondering aloud if his friend Celebreze had "caved in" to a special interest. He asked bluntly: "Is Tony selling himself out, or is this money given in a worthy cause?" Heffernan responded, "Well, is Israel a worthy cause?" 

Oakar found the focus by pro-Israel forces "upsetting." She explained, "I hadn't said a word about the Middle East, so it had to be because of my ethnic background. My father served in World War II and my brother in the Army later, but you would think we were less American. " 

The money helped Celebreze defeat the other eleven men, but Oakar won the nomination. Noting the district was overwhelmingly Democratic, the pro-Israel group sensed a hopeless situation and made no fight against Oakar in the fall or in subsequent elections. 

The prominence of "Jewish-appearing" names in the Ohio race may have been a factor in encouraging Jews nationally to organize the first pro-Israel political action committees in 1979. By 1982 they had mushroomed to a total of thirty-one. Pro-Israel P.A.C's contributed more than $1.8 million dollars to 268 different election campaigns during the 1981-82 Federal Election Commission reporting cycle, putting them in the highest political spending range. By mid-August 1984, the list had increased to 75 P.A.C's, and they had accumulated $4.25 million for the 1984 federal elections. 

None of them carried a name or other information which disclosed its pro-Israeli interest, nor did any list an affiliation with A.I.P.A.C or other pro-Israeli or Jewish organization. Each chose to obscure its pro Israel character by using a bland title, like the "Committee for 18," "Arizona Politically Interested Citizens," "Joint Action Committee for Political Affairs," or the "Government Action Committee." Yet all are totally committed to one thing: Israel. 

"No one is trying to hide anything," protests Mark Siegel, director of the pro-Israeli National Bipartisan Political Action Committee and a former White House liaison with the Jewish community. He insists that the bland names were chosen because "There are those in the political process who would use the percentage of Jewish money in a given race as a negative." The P.A.C Siegel heads was formed originally to help in the late Senator Henry Jackson's 1978 presidential bid. 

Norman Silverman, who helped to found the Denver-based Committee for 18, is more explicit, saying the name selection became "an emotional issue." Some of the organizers, mainly younger people, wanted Jewish identity plainly set forth in the name. "Others," Silverman noted, "said they didn't want to be a member if we did that." 

Whatever their names, pro-Israel P.A.C's enlarge the opportunities for individual supporters of Israel to back candidates. An individual may contribute up to $5,000 to a political action committee but only $1,000 to a candidate in each election. P.A.C's, in tum, may contribute $5,000 to a candidate in each election. Individuals often contribute the $1,000 limit directly to a candidate and also the $5,000 limit to a PAC supporting the same candidate. The Wall Street Journal, reviewing the growth of pro-Israel P.A.C's in August 1983 reported that Lawrence and Barbara Weinberg of Beverly Hills, California, gave $20,000 to the Citizens Organized Political Action Committee, based in Los Angeles, over a period that encompassed both the primary and general elections in 1982 and gave $2,000 to Democrat Richard J. Durbin, the man who defeated me in 1982. The P.A.C also contributed $5,000 to Durbin. That kind of generosity is not ignored by your average politician. 

The largest pro-Israel P.A.C is the National Political Action Committee (NatP.A.C), headquartered in New York with Marvin Josephson, head of a theatrical and literary talent agency, as chairman. Its Washington-based executive director is Richard Altman, who previously worked as political director of A.I.P.A.C. It draws money heavily from the entertainment industry and got off to a fast start in 1982 when Woody Allen signed its first nationwide fund-raising appeal. The National Journal rates it as the nation's largest non-labor, non-business political action committee. 

In 1982, NatP.A.C raised $1.04 million and spent $547,500 on 109 candidates for Congress. It gave the $5,000 legal limit to each of 31 Senate candidates. Twenty-eight of these were elected. On the House side, 57 of the 73 candidates it supported won. In the wake of those successes, NatP.A.C ran a full-page advertisement in The New York Times inviting further support and declaring that it was "helping to elect officials in all fifty states who realize that Israel's survival is vital to our own." 

A recent fund-raising letter carried an appeal by Republican Senator Robert Packwood of Oregon and Democratic Senator Patrick Moynihan of New York, both ardent supporters of Israel: "If you believe, as we do, that Israel is a great strategic asset to the United States and its most reliable ally in that part of the world, please read this letter." The letter asked for support so NatPAC can "take on the  Petrodollar interests. " 

Five colleagues help Josephson decide which candidates receive funds. They are Barry Dillar, chairman of Paramount Pictures Corporation, George Klein, a New York City developer, James Wolfensohn, a New York investment banker, Martin Peretz, editor of The New Republic. and Rita Hauser, a New York lawyer who is prominent in the work of the American Jewish Committee. 

Executive director Richard Altman calls NatPAC a "grassroots movement." By late 1983 he had signed up over 20,000 members, with his goal for 1984 goal set at 100,000. NatPAC strives for "ecumenical fund-raising," he says, noting the presence of Methodist Bob Hope among the one hundred prominent Americans listed as charter members.

He is candid: "Money makes the political engine run. To elect a friend, you have to pay for it-and we're not the only ones who know that." 

Altman declares that participating in PACs "is quintessentially both American and Jewish, as an expression of our involvement in political life. " 

Small P.A.C's sometimes focus on candidates far from their locales. Robert B. Golder, a Philadelphia businessman, organized the Delaware Valley Political Action Committee (Del-Val PAC) in 1981, recruited 160 members, and dispensed $58,000 to 32 widely scattered candidates. Twenty-eight of them won. Golder explains that his goal is to elect pro Israel Congressmen "in faraway places who don't have Jewish constituencies." For example, his PAC sent $1,500 to Jeffrey Bingaman. the Democrat elected to the Senate in 1982 from New Mexico. In late 1983 it sent $5,000 to Tom Corcoran, the unsuccessful challenger of Republican Senator Charles Percy of Illinois. A 12-person executive committee decides where the money is spent. 

A San Francisco-based PAC concentrates on contests outside California. Melvin Swig, who is chairman of the Bay Area Citizens Political Action Committee, says: "There are enough people locally who do enough for their constituency. We look for areas that have less Jewish visibility than others, places where there are fewer Jews." 

Golder explains the aims of such groups: 

We feel we are getting more Jewish people involved •••• Look how much we can get from the United States government by being politically active. This is the key thing about P.A.C's. We're trying to get those candidates [elected] who will vote 'Yes' on foreign aid. 

Golder, Swig and other P.A.C leaders receive guidance from A.I.P.A.C, which keeps them up to date on votes cast and statements made by Senate and House members as well as positions taken on the Middle East by candidates seeking office for the first time. 

A.I.P.A.C sometimes drops all pretense at staying apart from fund raising. For instance, a pro-Israel political action committee was organized in Virginia in 1983 during a workshop sponsored by A.I.P.A.C . 

Financial help does not stop at United States borders. Jewish Americans living in Israel are solicited for political action in the United States. Newton Frolich, a former Washington lawyer who moved to Israel eight years ago, is heading a Jerusalem-based political action committee. In June 1984, his committee mailed a solicitation letter to some 11,000 U.S. families living in Israel and expects to approach. in all, the estimated 50,000 U.S. citizens living there, many of whom also claim Israeli citizenship. His organization is called Americans in Israel Political Action Committee. Through the committee, he explains, Americans in Israel can "keep making their contribution" to the U.S. political process. The contribution comes back, of course, in the form of enormous U.S. grants to Israel-greater than to any other country. 

A lobby veteran who is now engaged full time in fund-raising worries about appearances. A.I.P.A.C's former executive director, Morris J. Amitay, feels that smaller local P.A.C's are best and fears that large well publicized national P.A.C's may create the impression that Jews exercise too much political power. He operates the relatively small Washington Political Action Committee, which dispensed $89,075 in 158 races during the 1982 campaigns. 

Too much or not, Jewish influence in fund raising is widely recognized. In August 1983 the Wall Street Journal reported, 

Several ranking Congressmen-most of whom wouldn't comment on the record for this story-say they believe the political effect of Jewish PAC money is . greater than that of other major lobbies because it is skillfully focused on one foreign policy issue. 

Focused it is. The pro-Israel P.A.C's concentrate exclusively on federal elections and focus heavily on Senate races and on House members who occupy key foreign policy assignments. 

PAC leader Mark Siegel says the P.A.C's concentrate on the Senate, because it is the "real battleground" on questions of foreign policy. In 1982, they invested $966,695 in Senate races, with $355,550 going to key House contests. 

Guided by A.I.P.A.C, P.A.C's choose their targets with care. When Lynn Adelman, a Jewish state senator in Wisconsin, in 1982 mounted the first primary election challenge that Democrat Clement J. Zablocki had experienced in thirty years, A.I.P.A.C recommended against an all out effort. A.I.P.A.C was unhappy with Zablocki's record, but did not consider him a problem; furthermore, it concluded that Adelman could not win. Adelman received only $9,350 from thirteen proIsrael political action committees. The contest made national news, because Zablocki was chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, through which all Israeli aid measures must go (see chapter two). Despite A.I.P.A.C's low-key recommendation, a letter soliciting funds for Adelman cited two "gains" if Zablocki lost: ''Adelman's election not only means' a friend of Israel in Congress, but also that the House Foreign Affairs Committee will have a friend of Israel as its new chairman," referring to Dante Fascell of Florida, the Democrat who was next in line to succeed Zablocki. Zablocki was re-elected by a two-to-one margin. 

Meanwhile, Fascell, the "other friend" cited in the fund-raising appeal, was receiving strong support from pro-Israel P.A.C's in his successful campaign for re-election in a Florida district that includes part of Miami. Twenty-two of these P.A.C's provided Fascell with a total of $43,250, the second highest amount to a House candidate that year. These funds helped him survive a challenge by a former television newsman. 

My successor, Richard Durbin, topped all House candidates, receiving $103,325 from pro-Israel political action committees. Other House Members receiving in excess of $10,000 were Sam Gejdenson of Connecticut, $30,175; Clarence Long of Maryland, $29,250; Ike Skelton of Missouri, $20,000; Martin Frost of Texas, $18,300; Thomas Lantos ofCalifomia, $15,500. Most of the big money went to Senate races. Eighteen Senators who were elected in 1982 received over $10,000 from pro-Israel P.A.C's. Five received more than Congressman Fascell. The top 10 were: George Mitchell, Democrat of Maine, $77,400; James Sasser, Democrat of Tennessee, $58,250; David Durenberger, Republican of Minnesota, $56,000; Robert Byrd, Democrat of West Virginia, $55,500; Paul Sarbanes, Democrat of Maryland, $48,500; Chic Hecht, Republican of Nevada, $46,500; Quentin Burdick, Democrat of North Dakota, $44,775; Lowell Weicker, Republican of Connecticut, $42,075; Jeffrey Bingaman, Democrat of New Mexico, $36,575; Howard Metzenbaum, Democrat of Ohio, $35,175; Dennis DeConcini, Democrat of Arizona, $32,000; and Donald Riegle, Democrat of Michigan, $29,000. Eight others received in excess of $10,000 each. 

In the 1984 elections, by July 1 pro-Israel P.A.C's had distributed $1.49 million to Senate candidates and $684,465 to House candidates. 

That year, Paul Simon, Democratic challenger to Republican Senator Charles Percy, topped the Senate list with $147,870. Next in line were Carl Levin, Michigan, $140,063; James B. Hunt, North Carolina, $130,350; Rudolph E. Boschwitz, Minnesota, $95,100; George J. Mitchell, Maine, $77,400; James Sasser, Tennessee, $58,250; Albert Gore, Tennessee, $57,450; Thomas Harkin, Iowa, $57,250; David Durenberger, Minnesota, $56,750 and Robert C. Byrd, West Virginia, $55,500. Mitchell, Sasser, Durenberger and Byrd will not be up for re-election until 1988. All but Boschwitz and Durenberger are Democrats. Sixteen other Senators received over $30,000. 

Of 17 House Members who received $10,000 or more, 11 were on panels which handle foreign aid. One of them, Lee Hamilton of Indiana, chairman of the Middle East Subcommittee, received all but $500 of the $14,500 in pro-Israel PAC money that went to Indiana House contests. The top House recipients: Clarence Long, Maryland, $97,500; Charles Wilson, Texas, $21,750; Ben Erdreich, Alabama, $21,250; Ronald L. Wyden, Oregon, $18,000; Mark Siljander, Michigan, $16,800; Dante Fascell, Florida, $16,750; Robert G. Torricelli,New Jersey, $16,500; Harry M. Reid, Nevada, $15,500; Cardiss Collins, Dlinois, $14,250; Lee Hamilton, Indiana, $14,000. All but Siljander are Democrats. 

Despite the dramatic growth of these P.A.C's-a development that has occurred entirely since 1979-most of the contributions to candidates still come directly from individual pro-Israel activists. 

Democratic candidates are especially dependent on contributions from Jewish sources. A non-Jewish strategist told Stephen D. Isaacs, author of Jews and American Politics: "You can't hope to go anywhere in national politics, if you're a Democrat, without Jewish money." In 1968, 15 of the 21 persons who loaned $100,000 or more to presidential candidate Hubert Humphrey were Jewish. According to Isaacs, the Democratic National Committee, whose principal charge is the advancement of Democratic Party prospects for the White House, for years received about 50 percent of its funds from Jewish sources. 

After the 1982 election-a year before he was elected chairman of the Foreign Affairs Committee after the sudden death of Zablocki,Fascell remarked: 

The whole trouble with campaign finances is the hue and cry that you've been bought. If you need the money, are you going to get it from your enemy? No, you're going to get it from your friend. [Clown does not even know what an enemy is DC]

"Our Own Foreign Policy Agenda" 

Much of the American Israel Public Affairs Committee's work in 1982 centered on expanding grassroots support, enlarging outreach programs to the college and Christian communities, and helping pro Israel political action committees sharpen their skills. These efforts were largely aimed at increasing the lobby's influence in the Senate. A.I.P.A.C wanted no repetition of its failure to block the 1981 AWACS sale to Saudi Arabia. 

One way in which A.I.P.A.C increases the number of its Senate friends is illustrated by its interventions in a critical race in Missouri. A.I.P.A.C stood by a friend and won. Republican Senator John C. Danforth, an ordained Episcopal minister, was opposed for re-election by a Jewish Democrat, Harriett Woods. In the closely fought contest, the non-Jewish Danforth found that an unblemished record of cooperation brought him A.I.P.A.C support even against a Jewish challenger. The help was crucial, as Danforth won by less than one percent of the vote. 

A.I.P.A.C also weighed in heavily in Maine, helping to pull off the upset victory of Democratic Senator George Mitchell over Republican Congressman David Emery. The Almanac of American Politics rated Mitchell "the Democratic Senator universally regarded as having the least chance for re-election." He had never won an election. Defeated for governor by an independent candidate in 1974, he was appointed to fill the Senate vacancy caused when Senator Edmund Muskie resigned in 1980 to become President Carter's Secretary of State. 

Encouraged by A.I.P.A.C, 27 pro-Israeli political action committees, all based outside Maine, contributed $77,400 to Mitchell's campaign. With this help Mitchell, who has Lebanese ancestry, fooled the professionals and won handily. In a post-election phone call to A.I.P.A.C director Thomas A. Dine, Mitchell promised: "I will remember you." 

In another example, Republican Senator David Durenberger of Minnesota received for his 1982 re-election bid $57,000 from 20 pro Israeli political action committees, with $10,000 of this total coming from the Citizens Organized PAC in California. This PAC contributed $5,000 during a breakfast meeting four months after he voted against the sale of AWACS planes to Saudi Arabia, and added $5,000 more by election day. Directors of the PAC include Alan Rothenberg, the law partner of Democratic National Chairman Charles Manatt. 

In close races, lobby interests sometimes play it safe by supporting both sides. In the 1980 Senate race in Idaho, for example, pro Israeli activists contributed to their stalwart friend, Democrat Frank Church, chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, but also gave to his challenger, Republican Congressman Steven D. Symms. 

One reason for the dual support was the expected vote in the Senate the next year on the AWACS sale to Saudi Arabia-during the campaign both Symms and Church were listed as opposing it. With the race expected to be close, the lobby believed it had a friend in each candidate and helped both. 

Symms defeated Church by a razor-thin margin; but the investment in Symms by pro-Israel interests did not payoff. By the time the new Senator faced the AWACS vote he had changed his mind. His vote approving the AWACS sale helped to give A.I.P.A.C one of its rare legislative setbacks. 

In a post-election review in its newsletter, Near East Report. A.I.P.A.C concluded that the new Senate in the 98th Congress would be "marginally more pro-Israel." As evidence, it noted that two of the five new Senators were Jewish: Frank Lautenberg, Democrat of New Jersey, and Chic Hecht, Republican of Nevada, each "with long records of support for Israel." It could also count as a gain the election of Democrat Jeffrey Bingaman of New Mexico, who defeated Republican Senator Harrison Schmitt. Voting for the AWACS sale to Saudi Arabia and opposing foreign aid had given Schmitt bad marks, and A.I.P.A.C gave its support to his challenger, Bingaman, in the campaign. 

Because favored candidates need more money than PAC sources provide, A.I.P.A.C also helps by providing lists for direct mail fundraising. The appeal can be hard-hitting. An example is the literature mailed in early 1984 on behalf of Republican Senator Rudy Boschwitz of Minnesota. Fellow Republican Lowell Weicker wrote the introductory letter, citing him as a "friend of Israel in danger." He noted Boschwitz's key position as chairman of the subcommittee "that determines the level of aid our country gives to Israel," and praised his efforts to block military sales to Saudi Arabia. The appeal included tributes by Senator Bob Packwood and Wolf Blitzer, Washington correspondent for The Jerusalem Post. 

A.I.P.A.C has convinced Congress that it represents practically all Jews who vote. Columnist Nat Hentoff reported this assessment in the New York Village Voice in June 1983 after a delegation of eighteen dissenting rabbis had scoured Capitol Hill trying to convince Congressmen that some Jews oppose Israeli policies. The rabbis reported that several Congressmen said they shared their views but were afraid to act. Hentoff concluded: "The only Jewish constituency that's real to them [Congressmen] is the one that A.I.P.A.C and other spokesmen for the Jewish establishment tell them about." 

An Ohio Congressman speaks of A.I.P.A.C with both awe and concern: 

A.I.P.A.C is the most influential lobby on Capitol Hill. They are relentless. They know what they're doing. They have the people for financial resources. They've got a lot going for them. Their basic underlying cause is one that most Americans sympathize with. [Bullshit nameless congressman from Ohio on the 'most Americans' DC]

But what distresses me is the inability of American policy-makers, because of the influence of A.I.P.A.C, to distinguish between our national interest and Israel's national interest. When these converge-wonderful! But they don't always converge. 

After the 1982 elections, Thomas A. Dine summed up the significance of AIPAC's achievements: "Because of that, American Jews are thus able to form our own foreign policy agenda." 

Later, when he reviewed the 1984 election results, Dine credited Jewish money, not votes: "Early money, middle money, late money." He claimed credit for defeating Republican Senators Charles Percy of Dlinois and Roger Jepson of Iowa and Democratic Senator Walter Huddleston of Kentucky, all of whom incurred A.I.P.A.C wrath by voting for the sale of AWACS planes to Saudi Arabia. 

Dine said these successes "defined Jewish political power for the rest of this century."

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Stilling the Still, Small Voices