An Act of Dubious Diplomacy

Jesse Jackson goes to Syria, on a wing and a prayer

Presidential candidates often make high-profile trips abroad, serious-looking junkets meant to convince voters that they know about international affairs and could, if elected, manage foreign policy marvelously. Democratic Contender Jesse Jackson went one step further last week, flying off to Syria in hopes of meeting with ailing President Hafez Assad and winning the freedom of Navy Lieut. Robert Goodman, 27. Goodman's jet was shot down over Lebanon Dec. 4 during a bombing raid against Syrian positions.

For the shrewd Syrians, who invited Jackson after the candidate had asked for Goodman's release, it was a no-lose situation. If they decided to hold on to Goodman, the publicity generated by Jackson's trip would enhance Goodman's value as a Syrian bargaining chip with Washington. If they released him to the populist, relatively pro-Arab Jackson, they could show magnanimity and embarrass the Reagan Administration.

The Administration took a dim view of Jackson's diplomatic gambit. A State Department official said it was bound to "muddy the waters" of U.S. policy. "If he's there milling around," the official said, "we can't accomplish anything. It sends conflicting messages to the Syrians. It's just a political stunt."

The theatrically inclined Jackson was eager to demonstrate that he is a caring, take-charge leader. "Whoever has the courage to act [should] act," he said in Damascus. The political stakes for Jackson were well stated by the P.O.W.'s father, Robert Goodman Sr., a retired Air Force colonel. "Should he be successful," the elder Goodman said, "he will deserve full credit. If the consequences of his actions are that Rob's captivity is prolonged, he should be held responsible."

As he prepared to go, Jackson held press conferences every day, denied that race had anything to do with his trip (Goodman is black), met twice in Washington with Syrian Ambassador Rafic Jouejati, tried unsuccessfully to phone President Reagan and got a 90-minute Middle East briefing at the State Department ("We'll do our best to see that he doesn't make any grave mistakes," said one official). Then he was off, delivering punchy justifications along the way. "We do not have a signed contract," Jackson said as he left, "but we must go forth. We must do what's right. .. We do not choose to fiddle, as it were, while Rome burns."

At last he made it, with two teen-age sons, four campaign aides, an amazing 21 Secret Service men, five American ministers and, he said, "high hopes." Declared Jackson in Damascus: "The ultimate victory would be to get Goodman out, but we've already had an enormous impact.

We've put the issue on the front burner."

After a two-hour talk Saturday with Syria's Foreign Minister, Jackson told reporters the Syrians feared that their freeing Goodman would encourage U.S. air missions over Lebanon. The Foreign Minister was vague about when--or whether--Jackson would meet Assad.

Then Jackson was shuttled to a Damascus military compound. He was the P.O.W.'s second American visitor in a week: Ambassador Robert Paganelli had delivered Goodman a Christmas dinner.

Goodman chatted for almost an hour, and seemed exceptionally chipper. He said his good treatment includes "more [food] than I can eat." Smiling, the navigator-bombadier lifted his sweatshirt to show a green T shirt printed with a stylized jet bomber and ATKRON 85, the shortened name of Goodman's aircraft-carrier unit, Attack Squadron 85. When reporters asked what he thought of Jackson's mission, Goodman was careful and correct. "I'm not a politician. I'm a naval officer... Let the people who are responsible for getting me out of here get me out of here.''