Friday, August 15, 2008

PAUL FINDLEY They Dare to Speak Out 4

Stilling the Still, Small Voices
The youthful congressman from California listened as his House col­leagues expressed their views. His earnest manner and distinctive shock of hair roused memories of an earlier congressman, John F. Kennedy. For more than an hour, between comments of his own, Representative Paul N. "Pete" McCloskey yielded the floor to othet congressmen, twenty-three in all. While they cooperated by requesting from Speaker Thomas P. "Tip" O'Neill allocations of time for the debate, most of them did so in order to avoid a sticky issue. They were ducking legislative combat, not engaging in it.
Real debate was almost unknown regarding the subject McCloskey had chosen—aid to Israel. Most congressmen, fearing lobby pressure, carefully avoid statements or votes that might be viewed as critical of Israel. Not McCloskey. Admired for his courage and independence, he began opposing the Vietnam war long before most Americans. He withstood the lobbying of Greek Americans to cut off military aid to Turkey, con­sistently supported controversial civil rights measures, and now challenged conventional wisdom on Middle East policy. He and I were members of
5 They Dare to Speak Out
a tiny band of congressmen who were willing to criticize Israel publicly, and both of us would soon leave Capitol Hill involuntarily.
On that June afternoon in 1980, most of McCloskeys colleagues provided him debate time—and joined him in the discussion—because they saw this as the only way to keep him from forcing them to vote on an amendment to cut aid to Israel. Some of them privately agreed with McCloskey s position, but they did not want his amendment to come to a vote. If that happened, they would find themselves in the distressing circumstance of reacting to the pressure of Israel s lobby by voting against McCloskeys amendment—and their own consciences.
In offering his amendment, McCloskey called for an end to the building of Israeli settlements in the territory in the West Bank of the Jordan River, which Israel held by force of arms.1 To put pressure on Israel to stop, he wanted the United States to cut aid by $150 million— the amount he estimated Israel was annually spending on these projects. In the end, tough realities led him to drop his plan to bring the amend­ment to a vote:
Friend and foe alike asked me not to press the amendment. Some of my friends argued that if I did get a roll call, the amendment would have been badly defeated. If that happened, they argued, Israel would take heart—say­ing "Sure, somebody spoke out, but look how we smashed him." Every Jew­ish congressman on the floor of the House told me privately that I was right.2
Representative James Johnson, a Republican from Colorado and one of the few to support McCloskey, was aware of the pressure other con­gressmen were putting on him.3 Johnson declared that many of his col­leagues privately opposed Israels expansion of settlements, but said that Congress was "incapable" of taking action contrary to Israeli policy: "I would just like to point out the real reason that this Congress will not deal with the gentleman's amendment is because [it] concerns the nation of Israel."
It was not the first time peer pressure had stopped amendments viewed as anti-Israeli, and McCloskey was not the first to back down to accommodate colleagues. Such pressure develops automatically when amendments restricting aid to Israel are discussed. Many congressmen are embarrassed by the high level of aid—Israel receives one-third of all U.S. foreign aid—and feel uncomfortable being recorded as favoring it.
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But, intimidated by Israel's friends, they are even less comfortable being recorded in opposition. How much of the lobby's power is real, and how much is illusion, is beside the point. Because they perceive it as real, few congressmen wish to take a chance. Worrying endlessly about polit­ical survival, they say: "Taking on the Israeli lobby is something I can do without. Who needs that?" On several occasions, sensing I was about to force a troublesome vote on aid to Israel, a colleague would whisper to me, "Your position on this is well known. Why put the rest of us on the spot?"
Most committee action, like the work of the full House, is open to the public, and none occurs on Israeli aid without the presence of at least one representative of AIPAC. This ensures that any criticism of Israel will be quickly reported to key constituents. The offending congressman may have a rash of angry telephone messages to answer by the time he returns to his office from the hearing room.
Lobbyists for AIPAC are experts on the personalities and procedures of the House. If Israel is mentioned, even behind closed doors, they quickly get a full report of what transpired. The lobbyists know that a roll call vote on aid to Israel will receive overwhelming support. In fact, administration lobbyists count on this support to carry the day for for­eign aid worldwide. Working together, the two groups of lobbyists pur­sue a common interest by keeping the waters smooth and by frustrating "boat rockers" like McCloskey.
Assaulting the Citadels
For McCloskey, compromise was an unusual experience. Throughout his public career he usually resisted pressures, even when his critics struck harshly.
This was true when he became nationally prominent as a critic of the Vietnam war—an effort that, in 1972, led him to a brief but dramatic campaign for the presidency.4 His goal was a broad and unfettered dis­cussion of public issues, particularly the war. The wrong decisions, he believed, generally "came about because the view of the minority was not heard or the view of thinking people was quiet."5 He contended that the Nixon administration was withholding vital information on a variety of issues. He charged it with "preying on people's fear, hate, and anger."6
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When McCloskey announced his bid for the presidency, his sup­porters sighed, "Political suicide." His opponents, particularly those in the party's right wing, chortled the very same words. Although the Cal-ifornian recognized that his challenge might jeopardize his seat in Con­gress, he nevertheless denounced the continuation of the war: "Like other Americans, I trusted President Nixon when he said he had a plan to end the war."7 McCloskey agonized over the fact that thousands of U.S. sol­diers continued to die, and that U.S. airpower, using horrifying cluster bombs, rained violence on civilians in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia.8
McCloskey knew of war's effects firsthand.9 As a marine in Korea, he was wounded while leading his platoon in one of several successful bayonet assaults on entrenched enemy positions. He emerged from the Korean war with a Navy Cross, a Silver Star, and two Purple Hearts. He later explained that this wartime experience gave him "a strong sense of being lucky to be alive."10 It also toughened him for subsequent assaults on entrenched enemies of a different sort—endeavors that brought no medals for bravery.
For protesting the war, McCloskey was branded "an enemy of the political process," and even accused of communist leanings.11 "At least fifty right-wing members of the House believe McCloskey to be the new Red menace," wrote one journalist.12 The allegation was ridiculous, of course, but party stalwarts in California clearly were restive. So much so, according to the California Journal, that McCloskey "needed the per­sonal intervention of then Vice President Gerald R. Ford to save him in the 1974 primary."
His maverick ways exacted a price. He was twice denied a place on the Ways and Means Committee.13 Conservatives on the California del­egation rebuffed the liberal Republican's bid for membership, even though he was entitled to the post on the basis of seniority.
By the time of his ill-fated 1980 amendment on aid to Israel, McCloskey had put himself in the midst of the Middle East controversy. After a trip to the Middle East in 1979, he concluded that new Israeli policies were not in America's best interests. He was alarmed over Wash­ington's failure to halt Israel's construction of West Bank settlements— which the administration itself had labeled illegal—and to stop Israel's illegal use of U.S.-supplied weapons. The congressman asked, "Why?"
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The article appeared shortly before McCloskey's bid for his party's nomination for the 1982 senatorial race in California. It was an
The answer was not hard to find. The issue, like most relating to the Middle East, was too hot for either Congress or the White House to handle. A call for debate provoked harsh press attacks and angry con­stituent mail. To McCloskey, the attacks were ironic. He viewed him­self as supportive of both Jewish and Israeli interests. As a college student at Stanford University in 1948, he had helped lead a success­ful campaign to open Phi Delta Theta fraternity for the first time to Jewish students.14 He reminded a critic, Earl Raab of San Francisco's Jewish Bulletin, that he had "voted for all the military and economic assistance we have given to Israel in the past."15 McCloskey also vigor­ously defended Israel's right to lobby: "Lobbying is and should be an honorable and important part of the American political process."16 He described the American Israel Public Affairs Committee as "the most powerful [lobby] in Washington," and insisted that there was "nothing sinister or devious" about it.
Still, McCloskey had raised a provocative question: "Does Amer­ica's 'Israeli lobby' wield too much influence?"17 In an article for the Los Angeles Times he provided his answer: "Yes, it is an obstacle to real Mideast peace." McCloskey cited the risk of nuclear confrontation in the Middle East and the fundamental differences between the interests of Israel and the United States. He observed that members of the Jewish community demand that Congress support Israel in spite of these dif­ferences. This demand, he argued, "coupled with the weakness of Con­gress in the face of any such force, can prevent the president, in his hour of both crisis and opportunity, from having the flexibility necessary to achieve a lasting Israeli-Palestinian peace."
He pleaded for full discussion:
If the United States is to work effectively toward peace in the Mideast, the power of this lobby must be recognized and countered in open and fair debate. I had hoped that the American Jewish community had matured to the point where its lobbying efforts could be described and debated with­out raising the red flag of anti-Semitism. ... To recognize the power of a lobby is not to criticize the lobby itself.
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I hesitate to use the term that he was anti-Semitic. Being anti-Israeli is a political decision. Being anti-Semitic is something totally different. I think he did not just creep over the boundary.
unorthodox opening salvo, to say the least, and most of the reaction was critical. One of the exceptions was an analysis by California's Redlands Daily Facts, which called his campaign a "brave but risky business."18 The newspaper described him as "the candidate for those who want a man with whom they will disagree on some issues, but who has the courage of his intelligent convictions."
On the other hand, Paul Greenberg, in a syndicated article in the San Francisco Examiner, wrote that McCloskey had accused the Israeli lobby of "busily subverting the national interest," and he linked him with notorious anti-Semite Gerald L. K. Smith.19 This time, McCloskey did not need to fight back. A few days later, the same newspaper pub­lished an opposing view.20 Columnist Guy Wright noted that Greenberg had accused McCloskey of McCarthy-era tactics without quoting "a sin­gle line from the offensive speech." Wright observed that this was itself a common tactic of McCarthyism. He cited with approval several of McCloskeys recommendations on foreign policy and concluded: "Now I ask you. Are those the ravings of an anti-Semite? Or fair comment on issues too long kept taboo?"
Such supportive voices were few. An article in the B'nai B'rith Mes­senger charged that McCloskey had proposed that all rabbis be required to register as foreign agents, declaring that he had made the proposal in a meeting with the editors of the Los Angeles Times.2' The author assured his readers that the tidbit came from a "very reliable source," and the charge was published nationally. The charge was a complete fabrica­tion, and Times editor Tony Day was quick to back up McCloskeys denial.22
The Messenger published a retraction a month later, but the accusa­tion lingered on.23 The Washington office of the Israeli lobby was appar­ently not even aware of the retraction. In an interview about McCloskey two years later, Douglas Bloomfield, legislative director for AIPAC, repeated the accusation as fact.24 Such false information may have col­ored his view of McCloskey, whom he described as "bitter" with "an intense sense of hostility" toward Jews:
Stilling the Still, Small Voices 5
Despite the Messengers retraction, there was no letup in criticism of McCloskey. The Messenger charged McCloskey with denigrating "the Constitutional exercise of petitioning Congress," with "obstreperous per­formances," and with marching on a "platform of controversy unmindful of the fact that the framework of his platform is dangerously undermined with distortion, inaccuracy, and maybe even malicious mischief."25 Another Jewish publication published his picture with the caption, "Heir to Goebbels."26 An article in the Heritage Southwest Jewish Press used such descriptive phrases as "No. 1 sonovabitch," "obscene position against the Jews of America," "crummy," and "sleazy" in denouncing him.27
Although used to rough and tumble partisanship, McCloskey was shocked by the harshness of the attacks. No rabbis or Jewish publications defended him. One of a small number of individual Jews who spoke up on his behalf was Merwyn Morris, a prominent businessman from Ather-ton, California. Morris argued that "McCloskey is no more anti-Semitic than I am"—but he still switched his support to McCloskey's opponent in the senatorial election.28
Josh Teitelbaum, who had served for a short time on McCloskey's staff and was the son of a Palo Alto rabbi, resigned from McCloskey's staff partly because he disagreed with the congressman's attitude toward Israel. But he also defended his former employer: "McCloskey is not anti-Semitic, but his words may give encouragement to those who are."29
McCloskey's views on Israel complicated—to put it mildly—cam­paign fund-raising.30 Potential sources of Jewish financial support dried up. One former supporter, Jewish multimillionaire Louis E. Wolfson, wrote: "I now find that I must join with many other Americans to do everything possible to defeat your bid for the U.S. Senate and make cer­tain that you will not hold any future office."31
Early in the race, when McCloskey was competing mainly with Sen­ator S. I. Hayakawa for the nomination, he felt he had a chance. Both were from the northern part of the state, where McCloskey had his great­est strength. After Hayakawa dropped out and Pete Wilson, the popu­lar mayor of San Diego, entered the contest, McCloskey's prospects decreased.
When the primary election votes were counted, McCloskey had won the North but lost the populous South. He finished 10 percentage points behind Wilson. Still, his showing surprised the experts. Polls and
5 They Dare to Speak Out
forecasters had listed him third or fourth among the four contenders right up to the last days. Congressman Barry Goldwater, Jr., the early favorite, emerged a poor third, and Robert Dornan, another congres­sional colleague, finished fourth.
The final tally on election day was close enough to cause a number of people to conclude that without the Jewish controversy McCloskey might have won. All three of McCloskeys opponents received Jewish financial support. Stephen S. Rosenfeld, deputy editorial page editor of the Washington Post, drew a definite conclusion: "Jewish political par­ticipation" had defeated McCloskey.
The lobby attack did not end when the polls closed, nor did McCloskey shun controversy. On September 22, 1982, a few days after the massacre of almost two thousand Palestinians in the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps near Beirut, McCloskey denounced a proposed new $50 million grant for Israel in a speech on the House floor.32 He warned that the action "might be taken as a signal of our support for what Israel did last Thursday in entering West Beirut and creating the circumstances which led directly to the massacre." Despite his protest, the aid was approved.
In the closing hours of the Ninety-seventh Congress, after fifteen years as a member of "this treasured institution," McCloskey invoked George Washington's Farewell Address in his own farewell, citing the first president's warning that "a passionate attachment of one nation for another produces a variety of evils."33 McCloskey found this advice "emi­nently sound" and said that Congress, in action completed the day before, had demonstrated a "passionate attachment" to Israel by voting more aid per capita to that country "than we allow to many of the poor and unemployed in our own country," despite evidence that "Israel is no longer behaving like a friend of the United States."
McCloskeys Academic Freedom
With his political career interrupted, if not ended, McCloskey planned to return to a partnership in the Palo Alto law firm he had helped to establish with John Wilson, a fellow graduate of Yale Law School, years before. "Many of my old clients are still clients," he said, "and I wanted to go back to them. I never thought of going anywhere else."34
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But others had different thoughts about McCloskey's future. Ken Oshman, president of the Rolm Corporation, the firm's biggest client, warned that his company "might take their law business elsewhere" if McCloskey were to rejoin the firm.35 The senior partners invited McCloskey to lunch. They told him that the episode would not cause them to withdraw their invitation, but that they wanted McCloskey to be "aware of the problem." McCloskey's response: "I don't want to come back and put you under that burden." In a letter to Oshman, McCloskey expressed his dismay. In reply, the industrialist said his company really wouldn't have taken its business elsewhere, but he reiterated his dis­agreement with McCloskey's views on Israel.
McCloskey accepted a partnership with the San Francisco law firm of Brobeck, Phleger & Harrison, but the pressures followed him there.36 The firm received a telephone call from a man in Berkeley, California, who identified himself only as a major shareholder in the Wells Fargo bank, one of the law firm's major clients. He said that he intended to go to the next meeting of the shareholders and demand that the bank trans­fer its law business to another firm. The reason: the San Francisco firm was adding to its partnership a "known anti-Semite" who supported the Palestine Liberation Organization and its chairman, Yasser Arafat. McCloskey's partners ignored the threat, and the bank did not with­draw its business.
A tracking system initiated by the Anti-Defamation League of B'nai B'rith (ADL) assured that McCloskey would have no peace, even as a pri­vate citizen. The group distributed a memorandum containing details of his actions and speeches to its chapters around the country.37 According to the memo, it was designed to "assist" local ADL groups with "coun­teraction guidance" whenever McCloskey appeared in public.
Trouble dogged him even on the campus. McCloskey accepted an invitation from the student governing council of Stanford University to teach a course on Congress at Stanford.38 Howard Goldberg—a council member and also director of the Hillel Center, the campus Jewish club— told the group that inviting McCloskey was "a slap in the face of the Jew­ish community."39 Student leader Seth Linfield held up preparation of class materials, then demanded the right to choose the guest lecturers.40 McCloskey refused, asserting that the young director had earlier assured him he could choose these speakers himself.
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Difficulties mounted as the semester went on. Guest speakers were not paid on time. McCloskey felt obliged to pay such expenses person­ally, then to seek reimbursement. His own remuneration was scaled downward as the controversy developed.41 Instead of the $3,500 stipend originally promised, Linfield later reduced the amount to $2,000, and even that amount was in doubt. According to a report in the San Jose Mercury News, the $2,000 would be paid only if Linfield was satisfied with McCloskeys performance.42 One student, Jeffrey Au, complained to school authorities that the controversy impaired academic quality.43 Responding, Professor Hubert Marshall wrote that he viewed the student activities as "unprecedented and a violation of Mr. McCloskeys aca­demic freedom."44
When the situation was finally resolved—by means of an apology from Provost Albert H. Hastorf—McCloskey told the Peninsula Times Tribune, "Stanford doesn't owe me an apology." He said his satisfaction came when all but one of the fifty students rated his class "in the high range of excellence," but he warned that other schools might face trou­ble. He noted that the American Israel Public Affairs Committee "has instructed college students all over the country to take [similar] actions."
McCloskey Goes to Court
AIPAC's endeavors did not stop McCloskey from seeking out justice in issues related to the Middle East. In 1993, the district attorney of San Francisco released 700 pages of documents implicating the Anti-Defamation League of B'nai B'rith, a major Jewish organization that calls itself "a defender of civil rights," in a vast spying operation. The tar­gets of the ADL operation were American citizens who were opposed to Israel's repression of Palestinians and to the South African government's policy of apartheid. The ADL was also accused of passing on informa­tion to both governments. After experiencing "great political pressure," the district attorney dropped the charges, prompting victims to file a suit against the ADL for violation of their privacy rights. They chose Pete McCloskey as their attorney.
McCloskey and his clients, two of whom were Jews who had been subjected to spying after criticizing Israeli policy in the occupied terri­tories, revealed an extensive operation headed by ADL undercover oper­
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ative Roy Bullock, whose files contained the names of 10,000 individu­als and 600 organizations, including thousands of Arab Americans and national civil rights groups such as the NAACR Much of Bullocks infor­mation was gained illegally from confidential police records. In April 2002, after a nine-year legal battle, McCloskey won a landmark $150,000 court judgment against the ADL. His clients issued the fol­lowing statement:
Many questions must still be answered about the activities of the ADL and its nonprofit status as an "education organization." The settlement offered by the ADL is recognition on its part that it could not afford to go to a trial in front of a jury and face the likelihood that more of its dirty secrets would be revealed.
It Didn't Cripple Us...." But—
While McCloskey, a leader in the white Republican establishment, bat­tled for universal human rights and against further U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War, a black Baptist preacher from the District of Colum­bia, known nationally as a street activist, pursued the same goals within Democratic ranks.
Good friends, both were members of the House of Representatives, and both undertook controversial journeys to Lebanon in behalf of peace. Both paid a price for their activism, but the preacher survived politically, while the ex-marine did not. Their work for justice in the Middle East—not their record of activism for civil rights at home or opposition to the Vietnam War—caused trouble for both of them.
In large measure, Reverend Walter Fauntroy's problems began over another black leader's endeavors for justice in the Middle East. Andrew Young resigned under fire as the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations in August 1979, after it was revealed that he had met with the PLO's UN observer, Zuhdi Labib Terzi. Many blacks were outraged by the resig­nation, blaming it on Israeli pressure and, like Young, found unreason­able the policy that prohibited our officials from talking even informally with PLO officials.45
Relations between American blacks and Jews—longtime allies in the civil rights movement—had already been strained by disagreements over
5 They Dare to Speak Out
affirmative action programs intended to give blacks employment quotas, and by Israel's close relations with the apartheid regime in South Africa. The resignation of Young, the most prominent black in the Carter administration, intensified the strain. "This is the most tense moment in black and Jewish relations in my memory," said the Reverend Jesse Jack­son shortly after Young's resignation.
During the civil rights movement of the 1960s, Fauntroy, one of the blacks most disturbed by the resignation, had worked with Young in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) under Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. They had acquired the nickname "The Brooks Brothers" because of their habit of wearing suits and neckties at civil rights marches, while most of the other participants were dressed more casually.
To show support for Young and disagreement with U.S. policy, Fauntroy and SCLC President Joseph Lowery traveled to New York in the fall of 1979 to meet with Terzi.46 Fauntroy said he hoped to help establish communication between Arabs and Israelis and to promote a nonviolent solution to Middle East problems, adding, "Neither Andy Young nor I, nor other members of the SCLC, apologize for searching for the relevance of Martin Luther King, Jr. s policies in the international political arena."47
While Terzi said he was "happy and gratified" at the meeting with the black leaders and that he hoped "much more will be learned by the American people," prominent members of Washington's Jewish com­munity were upset.48
"I don't think a responsible congressman should have any truck with terrorists," complained Rabbi Stanley Rabinowitz.49 Although many American Jews echoed this sentiment, a few stood by Fauntroy. Promi­nent businessman Joseph B. Danzansky said Fauntroy "has a right to do what he thinks his position entitles him to do."50 Danzansky, a friend and political ally of Fauntroy, added, "I'd be very shocked if there were any trace of anti-Jewish feeling. I have confidence in him as a human being."
In an attempt to calm the critics and demonstrate their "fairness," Fauntroy, Lowery, and other SCLC leaders met with U.S. Jewish lead­ers and with Israel's UN ambassador, Yehuda Blum.51 Afterward, Faun­troy told reporters that the black leaders were "asking both parties [in the Middle East dispute] to recognize each other's human rights and the
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right of self-determination." But pro-Israel interests saw the outcome differently. Howard Squadron, president of the American Jewish Com­mittee, emerged from the meeting to say that SCLC's contact with Terzi was "a grave error, lending legitimacy to an organization committed to terrorism and violence."32
Against this tense background, black leaders from across the United States convened in New York to express their concern ovet Young's resig­nation and to affirm their right to speak out on matters of foreign policy.
Some said they were making "a declaration of independence" in mat­ters of foreign policy.53 Said Fauntroy:
In every war since the founding of this nation, black citizens have borne arms and died for their country. Their blood was spilled from Bunker Hill to Vietnam. It is to be expected that should the United States become drawn into war in the Middle East, black Americans once more will be called upon to sacrifice their lives.54
His words were prophetic of the sacrifices blacks were soon to make in Lebanon. While blacks constitute only 10 percent of the total U.S. population, 20 percent of the marines killed in the terrorist truck bomb­ing in Beirut—47 of 246—were black.
Fauntroy's views led to a loss of financial support from Jewish donors. "It didn't cripple us," says Fauntroy, "it just made us more resourceful and more sensitive to our need to put principle above poli­tics on questions that bear on nonviolence and the quest for justice."55 It hurt fund-raising for his personal campaign: "No question about that. Some of my former close supporters flatly stated to me that they were not going to contribute to my candidacy because I had taken the posi­tion that I did."
He demonstrated his persistence three weeks later when he joined Lowery on a controversial trip to the Middle East. As they departed, Lowery declated their determination to "preach the moral principles of peace, nonviolence, and human rights."56
In a meeting with Yasser Arafat, they appealed for an end to violence, asking the PLO leader to agree to a six-month moratorium on violence. Arafat promised to present the proposal to the PLO's executive council. Fauntroy recalls the dramatic moment, "We asked Dr. Harry Gibson of the United Methodist Church to pray. Then a Roman Catholic priest
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said a prayer in Arabic. We wept. At the end of the prayer, someone—I don't know who—started singing 'We Shall Overcome,' and Arafat immediately crossed his arms and linked hands."57
Some American Jews feared the emotional meeting symbolized a new "black alliance" with the PLO and a betrayal of their own support of civil rights for blacks. They rejected the black leaders' insistence that they were impartial advocates of peace.
At a news conference at his New Bethel Baptist Church, Fauntroy described his mission for peace and said he would persist: "I am first and foremost a minister of the gospel, called to preach every day that God is our father and all men are our brothers, right here from this pul­pit."58 He added: "I could not be true to my highest calling if, when an opportunity to do so arose, I refused." He challenged his critics: "So let anyone who wishes run against me. Let anyone who wishes withdraw his support. It doesn't matter to me."
Reflecting on the problems created by his quest for self-determina­tion of people in the Middle East, as well as in the District of Colum­bia, Fauntroy calls it "a growing experience." He continued to grow through the 1980s as a leading civil rights activist. His act of civil dis­obedience on behalf of the black people of South Africa—he refused to leave the office of the ambassador of South Africa until nine South African labor leaders were released, and was escorted out in handcuffs— focused national attention on the issue. His endeavors helped prompt Congress to impose economic sanctions against South Africa, a step that would eventually lead to the freeing of Nelson Mandela and the end of the apartheid regime.
"Three Calls Within Thirteen Minutes"

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