"A Sterling Achievement"

The man who pulled together the agreement on the PL.O.'s evacuation of Lebanon, a triumph of delicate diplomacy, worked so secretly and with such an abhorrence of publicity that many of his top colleagues in the Middle East literally did not know how he was faring. For more than eleven weeks, Philip Charles Habib shuttled back and forth across the Middle East, following an itinerary that would have been arduous for a young man, let alone a 62-year-old

official who has suffered four heart attacks and undergone bypass surgery. Habib carried all his medical records with him, as well as his medications. He likes to rest for a while in the afternoon, but there was little time for that during the talks. Habib's traveling was vastly complicated by the fact that he insisted on not flying directly to Israel over Lebanese territory under Israeli occupation, feeling that to do so would appear to condone Jerusalem's

military action. Instead, he would normally drive in a bulletproof car from Beirut to Jounieh, a seaside town north of the capital, and board a U.S. helicopter for Larnaca in Cyprus. Then he would catch a flight to Tel Aviv. As the negotiations edged toward a settlement, U.S. intelligence agents picked up reports that an extremist splinter group of the P.L.O., run by George Habash, intended to assassinate the envoy. The faction opposed a P.L.O. withdrawal from Beirut. Habib spent one night in the shelter of the residence of U.S. Ambassador Robert S. Dillon in Yarze, southeast of Beirut. Habib also had to break off talks with the Lebanese from time to time when P.L.O. rockets exploded near the presidential palace, where the main

discussions occurred. As he struggled toward a settlement, Habib had to cope with the suspicions of both the P.L.O. and the Israelis. At first the Palestinians were convinced that Habib was pro-Israel and, what was more, that he was acting, said one senior P.L.O. official, as a "high commissioner" who had come to dictate terms. The Israelis initially felt that he was keeping them in the dark about the true state of the negotiations.

Habib overcame both problems with his diligence, his meticulous preparation and his deep personal knowledge of the key participants. Habib, who is the son of a Lebanese grocer and who grew up in a Jewish neighborhood in Brooklyn, also had a feel for the fears and desires of both sides.

Finally, Habib has a distinctive personal touch that helped move the talks along. Dealing with the loquacious Menachem Begin, Habib would let him run on a while, then interrupt him with a blunt deflator: "Prime Minister, what you're really saying is this . . ." Habib had a different style from Henry Kissinger, whom he assisted during the Middle East shuttles in 1974 that led to the disengagement agreements made by Israel with both Egypt and Syria. "Kissinger," says one Israeli official, "was more of a preacher. He'd lecture us. Habib takes pains to avoid that."

Habib would use his sense of humor to ease tensions, occasionally speaking the few words of Arabic he remembered from his childhood to amuse the Lebanese. But knowing full well he had the backing of the President, he could be tough when necessary. At one point, when the Israelis were mounting their relentless attacks on West Beirut, Habib threatened to abandon his mission then and there. The Israelis stopped the attacks, and the talks went on.

"Phil lives on adrenaline," says one U.S. official. "He never gives up." His tenacity and dedication last week earned him a nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize by Senator Charles Percy, chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. In a telegram, President Reagan praised Habib for "a truly sterling achievement." Said Reagan to his special envoy:

"You have succeeded against staggering odds."

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