Suez 1956, page 31
The French party arrived at three o’clock. Eden was waiting for them in his study. The door closed on a meeting of just five – Gazier, Challe, Eden, Nutting and Eden’s private secretary, Guy Millard. Assuming that he was there to take minutes, Millard had his writing pad at the ready. Eden told him to put it away. ‘There’s no need to take notes, Guy.’
After the initial courtesies had been disposed of, Gazier opened the discussion with a further appeal that we should halt all Iraqi movements into Jordan. We were playing with fire, he said. The French Government were in much closer touch with Tel Aviv than we were, and they knew that the Israelis were in a highly nervous state about the Iraqis. It would not be safe to write off their threats as mere bluff. Did we really want to risk provoking a situation in which we were on the opposite side to France at a time when our two countries should be at one in every sphere, and most especially in the Middle East?
I jumped in at this point to say that we had already pushed Nuri far enough. We had persuaded him to station his troops in north-east Jordan, to issue strict instructions that they were not to cross to the west bank of the Jordan River or in any way to present the smallest ‘threat’ to Israel, and finally to send only a token force. We could not now forbid him to move at all. After all, the idea of sending Iraqi troops to reinforce Hussein had sprung from us and not from Nuri. But my arguments were in vain. For Eden, whose antennae had begun to sense that Gazier’s appeal might be the prelude to some further and more ‘positive’ proposal for joint Anglo-French action, cut me short by saying that he would, at any rate, ask Nuri to suspend his move temporarily.8
Having conceded this much, Nutting felt it was the moment for the French to reciprocate with a promise not to send any more Mystère fighter planes to Israel. He passed a note to Eden, who put it aside. He was ‘all agog to hear what Gazier would have to say next’. It was a question. ‘How would Britain react if Israel were to attack Egypt?’ Eden needed to think about that. There was the Tripartite Declaration to consider. Britain was obligated to resist any attack across the armistice lines of Israel and the Arab world. But this did not apply to Egypt. Gazier could quote Nasser’s public announcement that he did not recognise the declaration or the assumed rights of its signatories to send troops into Egypt.
‘So that lets us off the hook,’ Eden said excitedly. ‘We have no obligation, it seems, to stop the Israelis attacking the Egyptians.’
I thought for a moment of arguing the obvious point that our obligations stemmed from the Tripartite Declaration itself and that, whatever Egypt might say, this meant that we had a peacekeeping role to play in the Middle East. But it seemed more important to find out what lay behind the French enquiry. So I asked Gazier what, if any, information he had that Israel was contemplating an attack on Egypt.9
It was Challe’s turn to speak. Avoiding a direct answer to the question of Israeli intentions, he proceeded to an outline of what became known as ‘The Plan’ for taking back control of the Suez Canal, starting with an Israeli attack on Egypt across the Sinai Peninsula. Then:
France and Britain, having given the Israeli forces enough time to seize all or most of Sinai, should order ‘both sides’ to withdraw their forces from the Suez Canal, in order to permit an Anglo-French force to intervene and occupy the Canal on the pretext of saving it from damage by fighting. Thus the two powers would be able to claim to be ‘separating the combatants’ and ‘extinguishing a dangerous fire’, while actually seizing control of the entire waterway and of its terminal ports, Port Said and Suez. This would not only restore the running of the Canal to Anglo-French management, but, by putting us physically in control of the terminal ports – a position which Egypt had hitherto always held – it would enable us to supervise all shipping movements through the Canal and so to break the Egyptian blockade of Israel.10
The details of the plan were left for further discussion. Challe had in mind a combined seaborne and paratroop invasion, the timing and division of responsibilities for which had to be decided quickly. But it was uncertain just how far the Israelis had committed themselves. The answer, as became clear in the next few hours, was not far at all.
When, a day after the Chequers meeting, Ben-Gurion was told of the plan, his reaction was ‘violently negative’.11 Though aware that it was French inspired, he detected a British plot to reconcile the many contradictions in that country’s Middle East policy. As he saw it, Israel was required to face grave military and political risks in the service of France and Britain without being recognised or even talked to by the British before winding up branded an aggressor and forced into submission by an Anglo-French ultimatum. It fell to Shimon Peres to calm the prime minister, persuading him to leave room for further negotiations. A cable to this effect was sent to Paris.
Eden, meanwhile, was in a state of high excitement. Nutting was convinced that he had already made up his mind to go along with the Challe proposal.
We were to ally ourselves with the Israelis and the French in an attack on Egypt designed to topple Nasser and to seize the Suez Canal. Our traditional friendships with the Arab world were to be discarded; the policy of keeping a balance in arms deliveries as between Israel and the Arab States was to be abandoned; indeed, our whole peace-keeping role in the Middle East was to be changed and we were to take part in a cynical act of aggression, dressing ourselves for the part as firemen or policemen, while making sure that our fire-hoses spouted petrol and not water and that we belaboured with our truncheons the assaulted and not the assaulter. And all to gain for ourselves guarantees for the future operation of the Suez Canal which had only a day or so before been substantially gained in Lloyd’s negotiations with Fawzi in New York.12
Lloyd was telephoned in New York to be told to return on the next flight. He arrived back at London Airport shortly before noon on Tuesday, 16 October, and was driven to Downing Street to meet Eden. Nutting was waiting to intercept his boss. ‘Drawing him aside, I told him what was afoot and what advice I had given . . . His reaction was spontaneous. “You are right,” he said. “We must have nothing to do with the French plan.”’13 Nutting assumed that Lloyd was in ignorance of the plan, but this is unlikely given the communication he had already had with Eden. In any event, whatever his reservations, once Lloyd was ensconced with Eden he was soon following the line of least resistance. ‘Short of resignation,’ says his biographer, ‘Lloyd had no option but to comply.’14 But why was it that resignation was not considered an option? Every insider account of Suez credits Lloyd with voicing severe reservations, on occasion outright opposition, to the unfolding plot for disposing of Nasser. If he had resigned, or even threatened to resign, British involvement in the Suez operation would have come to a halt. Yet he stayed on. The plain fact was, Lloyd liked his job with all its trappings and he was prepared to do anything to hang on to it.
On the afternoon of the 16th, the day of Lloyd’s return from New York, he and Eden were on their way to Paris for a meeting with Mollet and Pineau. Ben-Gurion was keen to make it a tripartite get-together so that he could test British intentions, good or otherwise. But before going farther Eden wanted clarification on the extent of French planning with Israel.
The Anglo-French summit at the Palais Matignon continued long into the evening. It was a closed session. The four leaders were huddled together without the benefit of advisers or interpreters. No minutes were kept. Gladwyn Jebb, an ambassador who was more than commonly mindful of the importance of his role, was furious at his exclusion. If it is at all possible to be sympathetic to Lloyd it must be at a time when the jet-lagged foreign secretary had to face up to an incandescent ambassador who was temperamentally incapable of hiding his disdain for a lesser being. The flavour of their conversation can be gleaned from Jebb’s subsequent put-down.
I do not complain, but it is, I believe, a novel arrangement for diplomatic business of the highest importance to be conducted by the Principals without any official being present, even to take a note. I am sure that you feel that this is a good method of proceeding, and anyhow it is for you to say. But however great the advantages of the new system, it has one very considerable disadvantage so far as your representative on the spot is concerned. This is that, although he has to live with one of the Principals and has to continue negotiations with him in the absence of his own Principal, he has no means, apart from a few remarks which the latter may let fall, of knowing what actually happened when the Principals met.15
Jebb was not alone in his innocence. In both London and Paris, senior diplomats who were accustomed to seeing everything were cut out of the information loop.
Nothing was finally decided at the Palais Matignon meeting but both sides were left with much to think about. Not surprisingly, Eden was nervous of coming out too strongly in support of Israel while Jordan was still at risk. But he was ready to talk to Ben-Gurion and he made known that if Israel and Egypt went to war, Nasser could expect no help from Britain. Moreover, Eden was taken with the idea of acting as a sort of umpire with the threat of intervention to protect the canal. This got through to the Israelis in a diplomatic note purporting to be dictated by Eden but more probably set out by Mollet as a record of their meeting.16
In the event of any threat of hostilities in the neighbourhood of the Canal, the French and British Governments would call the belligerents to halt and to withdraw from the immediate vicinity of the Canal. If both agreed, no action would follow. If one or both refused, Anglo-French forces would intervene to ensure the free passage of the Canal.
In the event of hostilities developing between Egypt and Israel, Her Majesty’s Government would not come to the assistance of Egypt, because Egypt was in breach of a Security Council Resolution and had moreover repudiated Western aid under the Tripartite Declaration.
Different consideration would of course apply to Jordan, with whom Her Majesty’s Government had, in addition to their obligation under the Tripartite Declaration, a firm treaty.17
Back in London, Eden summoned the cabinet. The formal record shows that for the first time ministers who were not on the Egypt Committee were made aware of the crisis building up in the Middle East. But while coming clean on the likely Israeli participation, Eden held back on the efforts that had gone into persuading Ben-Gurion to shoot first.
With hindsight, now was the time for Eden’s colleagues to begin asking questions. Conventional wisdom holds that the ‘collective responsibility’ of the cabinet means that vital decisions are arrived at by consensus. In fact, as recent experience of an increasingly presidential style of government tells us, it rarely happens that way. Ministers have enough to do keeping track of events in their own departments without intruding on the affairs of their political neighbours. When a prime minister dedicates himself to a mission, it is almost impossible for any but his closest associates to learn enough to be an informed critic. Add to this the Churchillian tradition that regarded loyalty to the leader as the first article of Tory faith and it is easy to imagine how most members of the cabinet managed to stifle any doubts they might have felt about Eden’s Suez policy or his capacity to carry it through. Butler, the second-or third-most powerful government figure depending on where one ranks Macmillan, is a case in point. Instinctively opposed to force, he struggled with his conscience but could not bear thinking of the consequences of openly defying the prime minister. Not for nothing was Butler known as the great ditherer.
Having acknowledged the chorus of murmured support from around the cabinet table, Eden was ready to move on with The Plan. Not so Ben-Gurion. Looking like an Old Testament prophet and seeing himself in that tradition, he was deeply conscious of Israel’s destiny and his own role in bringing it to fruition. He was ready to take risks but only when there was a 90 per cent chance of success. The Plan, in his view, came in well below that. Then there was the emotional factor. Sensitive to anything but wholehearted support for Israel, he was disinclined to do any favours for Britain, even when there were side benefits.
But setting aside his general aversion to the Challe scenario, Ben-Gurion fastened on to three practical issues to be decided. While there was confidence that Israel could win a land war against Egypt, Ben-Gurion needed a guarantee that the Egyptian air force could not retaliate. This called for an Anglo-French air strike to be launched simultaneously with an Israeli advance into the Sinai Peninsula. Second, he wanted a clear assurance that Iraq would stay out of Jordan and that Jordan would not join forces with Egypt. Finally, if Israel was to go to war it was with the expectation of territorial gains. Would the allies stand for Israeli claims to the straits of Eilat and Sharm el-Sheikh, which would give access to the Red Sea?18
Clearly, another top-level meeting was called for if there was to be any chance of a tripartite deal. Mollet was the first to act. His impatience with the lengthy preliminaries to action against Egypt was intensified when on 18 October a French naval patrol in the Mediterranean boarded the Athos, a cargo vessel flying under a Sudanese flag. Found to be carrying over 70 tons of arms and ammunition, the Athos was on its way from Alexandria to Algiers. There was no doubt that the weaponry was for the rebel cause. Though only the first arms delivery that could be traced directly to Egypt, it served to fuel popular indignation against Nasser. Unless Mollet could soon recover the initiative, his government would be at risk.
An invitation to Paris was sent to Ben-Gurion. He could hardly refuse. With French arms arriving by the day, it would not have been wise to snub Mollet. But his response dampened expectations. ‘The British idea of an Israeli attack and of British interference as umpire is out of the question.’ He was ready to fly to Paris if Mollet considered it necessary ‘in spite of the disqualification of the British idea’.19
In an attempt to soften him up Ben-Gurion was given star treatment. The DC-4 that had been presented by President Truman for de Gaulle’s diplomatic jaunts was sent to collect the Israeli delegation. General Challe and Louis Mangin, an adviser to Bourgès-Maunoury, were on board. Arriving in Tel Aviv, they made straight for the office of Moshe Dayan, who was known to be among Ben-Gurion’s more bullish advisers.
The talk was tough. I asked them if the French Air Force would come to our aid if our cities were bombed within the first twenty-four hours – when our own planes would be needed over the battlefield. They answered in the negative, adding that the British were opposed to this idea as it would spoil the ‘scenario’. At this point I just blew up, perhaps as much for the tiresome use of the word ‘scenario’ as for the reasoning. Shakespeare, I said, was a genius of a scenario writer, but I doubted whether any in the British Cabinet had inherited his qualities. I, for one, would not support a partnership proposal based on the condition that one would do the job and the other two would come along and kick him out. If we had to fight the Egyptians alone, we ourselves would decide when and how to do so, being governed by what suited us best. In a partnership, however, if Egyptian planes bombed Tel Aviv because our own planes were away preparing the path for the Anglo-French conquest of the Canal Zone, it was inconceivable that our partners would not come to our aid so as not to spoil the ‘scenario’!20
The compromise offer was to station French squadrons in Israel ready to go into action should need arise.
Dayan had a better idea. Israel would carry out small-scale land attacks near enough to the canal to give the Allies sufficient cause to intervene but not so near to Cairo as to prompt an Egyptian counter-attack on Israeli cities. The French could well understand the attraction of the plan to the Israelis. It involved them in the minimum of risk for the maximum of gain. Clearly, negotiations would not be simple.
The Israeli delegation – Ben-Gurion, Shimon Peres, Dayan and his chef du bureau, Mordechai Bar-On – began what turned out to be a seventeen-hour flight to Paris at dusk on the evening of Sunday, 21 October, the date on which Musketeer Revise was supposed to have got under way. Up to the last moment there were doubts that Ben-Gurion would agree to travel, though doubtless his apparent reluctance had more to do with proving to his French escort that he was no easy touch than with any wish to back away entirely from a joint operation. Waiting to board the plane, he told Challe, ‘If you are thinking of pressing the British proposals on us, the only useful thing about this trip will be the opportunity to meet your prime minister.’21 It was not much of a start but at least it got the show on the road. The challenge now facing Mollet was to persuade Eden to join the party.
A sixth sense must have told Eden that he would be chancing too much to put in a personal appearance. His simply being in Paris would excite press comment and he could hardly travel incognito. But keen as he was to see The Plan advance, it was open to him to send a representative. Selwyn Lloyd was the obvious choice. It has been said that Lloyd was picked so that he would become irretrievably linked to any plot that might be hatched in Paris.22 Eden was certainly capable of such devious practice. It is more likely, however, that Lloyd went for no stronger reason than he was foreign secretary. While he still had to be convinced that Eden was on the right track – the dismissal of his efforts at the UN must have rankled – he was his master’s voice. Moreover, if the occasion should arise, his visit to Paris could be explained away without arousing too much suspicion.
Lloyd was in his Wirral constituency for the weekend when the call came. With him was Donald Logan, his assistant private secretary. They travelled back to London on the overnight train. Early on Sunday morning Lloyd was at Chequers listening to Eden’s briefing on the forthcoming Anglo-French-Israeli rendezvous. It was to be a secret mission. For foreign office consumption it was to be put about that Lloyd had gone down with sinus trouble. For the story to hold, Lloyd’s official driver was stood down. Donald Logan was deputised to drive him to the airport and to accompany him to Paris. But Lloyd drew the line at dressing up for the part.
