AUTOMATON OF DIPLOMACY
Henry Kissinger is one of those names with which it seems almost everyone at Harvard tries to connect themselves. "Kissinger used to lecture in this hall," some professor will say. Knowing seniors will relate how the page-limit cap on theses was instituted in response to Kissinger's lengthy work. Others will argue over whether Kissinger the undergraduate was a Gov concentrator, or a History concentrator, or a Social Studies concentrator. I've heard students claim that Kissinger taught the History 90f International Relations Tutorial. Rumors of a Kissinger Ghost running across the South Yard are probably not far off. Like Harvard itself, Kissinger has name recognition and even a mythology. But what was the real story? Who was this man? Robert D. Schulzinger's Henry Kissinger: Doctor of Diplomacy attempts to answer these questions for the years in which Kissinger served as National Security Advisor and Secretary of State, 1969-1976. Schulzinger's emphasis is balance, but the book nonetheless remains highly focused on the official life of Henry Kissinger, perhaps even at the expense of a truly balanced portrayal of Henry Kissinger which would include a depiction of him as an individual.
Schulzinger does a laudable job of getting "the facts" across: readers only somewhat familiar with Kissinger's story will find a clear factual thread running throughout the book. Nearly every reader is bound to find themselves surprised by some interesting fact--although Schulzinger's treatment of Kissinger's undergraduate days (page 10) is very brief, it was enough to explode my preconceived image of Kissinger as a brilliant young intellectual taking the Ivy League by storm. In reality, Kissinger was a full twenty-seven years old when he received his famous summa, a rather old and experienced undergrad. The reality of Kissinger is often subtly different from our expectations, a perception largely created by what Schulzinger calls Kissinger's own myth-making "personal diplomacy."
Schulzinger's interpretation is a sound one, taking the cautious middle road between venerating Kissinger as a foreign policy deity and lambasting him as a charlatan. For Schulzinger, Henry Kissinger was at times a flawed and perhaps petty self-promoter. In other word, he was just a man. But what a man. For all his weaknesses, "Kissinger's real diplomatic achievements have not been surpassed." (8) For a policymaker who has so recently stepped out of the limelight of history, it is difficult to take an objective approach, yet this is what Schulzinger tries to do.
As worthwhile an effort as this is, it is a difficult endeavor. While Schulzinger labors to give a balanced and multifaceted interpretation of Kissinger, he sometimes neglects the multifaceted nature of Kissinger the man. Schulzinger remains so focused, perhaps overfocused, on the logistics of shuttle diplomacy, backchannel diplomacy, secret diplomacy, personal diplomacy, ping-pong diplomacy and even couscous diplomacy that he seems to lose sight of the fact that anything besides diplomacy even existed. The result is a factually sound, respectable interpretation which remains a little flat. Instead of a "Doctor of Diplomacy" we are presented with an "Automaton of Diplomacy" which does not seem to match the devilish Kissinger grin we see throughout the book's photographic plates.
One example of this appears in Schulzinger's depiction of the young Kissinger as an army intelligence lecturer. According to Schulzinger, Kissinger was even then a remarkable speaker and unafraid to boldly address his superiors. These important facts suggest at least an anecdote or two, with a precocious young Kissinger maybe even lulling an audience into believing some complete hogwash using the power of his unique accent. At the very least, some memorable account must remain on which Schulzinger based this characterization, yet he deprives us of his evidence, perhaps even dehumanizing Kissinger a little.
But in all fairness to Schulzinger, Kissinger's twenties were not the main focus of the book. Still, he treats Kissinger much the same throughout. For instance, one of most traumatic moments of Kissinger's years in power was the post-Watergate discovery that he had authorized wiretaps (168-170). In contrast with his usual portrayal, Kissinger found himself under fire from the press. According to Schulzinger, Kissinger became overemotional, soapboxing about his public honor and the infidelity of the press. Kissinger's comments here perhaps give the most insight into the personal ego and pride of this exceptionally talented policy expert. Yet, Schulzinger could have gone further. How did he express his anger or nervousness? What were Kissinger's eating and sleeping habits? Who did he confide in during this trauma? What's more, Schulzinger largely refrains from commenting on the wiretap incident. The result is history which reads like a newspaper story, albeit a very shocking one. Here Schulzinger details Kissinger's actions while minimizing his motives.
The book's focus is such a short period--the pinnacle of Kissinger's career--that there is little sense of evolution of Kissinger's ideas. For all Schulzinger reveals, Kissinger was born a realist, negotiating for a "structure of peace" in the sandbox. Schulzinger might do well to appropriate some of the technique of writers like Anders Stephanson (Kennan and the Art of Foreign Policy) or John Harper (American Visions of Europe) in explaining policymakers as dynamic thinkers. Perhaps Kissinger has not left a record suited to this type of analysis, but it is more likely that Schulzinger is uncomfortable with this kind of work. Of course, there is a tradeoff between clarity of discussion and an in-depth portrayal of the personality and motivations of a historical actor, and perhaps Schulzinger's lean to the side of clarity is for the better. It certainly is likely to be less controversial.
And despite these criticisms, Schulzinger does successfully achieve moments of grace. One is the understated telling of Kissinger's triumph in bringing Nixon to China. Schulzinger's detail of Nixon shaking Zhou Enlai's hand and erasing an "eighteen-year old slight" (98) from Dulles' snub encapsulates Kissinger's diplomatic wizardry in a single moment, the kind of moment that is run in slow motion in the Hollywood film. Here Schulzinger goes on to say "Kissinger thought atmosphere surpassed specific accomplishments." But although the depiction of the Chinese trip is somewhat achieved in terms of "atmosphere"--most of the book is the story of specific accomplishments. Of course, it is hard if not impossible for historians to deal much with anything that isn't an accomplishment or an event. However, Schulzinger might have done well to set the backdrop more for the events of 1969-1976, especially for readers such as myself who are too young to remember the era.
Perhaps Schulzinger's greatest strength in this book is his ability to avoid writing noncommittal mush while attempting to achieve "balance." His final chapter, "Kissinger in Retrospect," emphasizes Kissinger's unique nature. Schulzinger rejects the hypothesis that Kissinger was all glitz without any substance, and he also rejects the idea that Kissinger was some kind of foreign policy demigod--he argues that Kissinger's thinking was perhaps overly simplistic for the world of complex interdependence which was emerging. What was Kissinger then? Far from mediocre, says Schulzinger. Kissinger was the apex of academic expertise in foreign policymaking. Though his "structure of peace" might have been a fantasy, no one has been able to match the Kissinger legacy. Schulzinger's ultimate conclusion is that "instead of building a structure, Kissinger created a personality." (242) Such a conclusion both avoids the Scylla of false glorification and steers clear of the Charybdis of excessive criticism. The middle course does not detract from Kissinger's unique nature and should add a new layer of understanding to the consensus on Kissinger.
And while it is possible to accept that Kissinger's greatest tool was his personality, it is difficult to accept that his personality is solely that of the clinical theorist as Schulzinger suggests. A truly impartial assessment of an individual is likely only fifty or a hundred years after their time. Schulzinger may be doing much to form the Kissinger consensus of the future, but it is likely that his assessment will be overturned at some point as more and more facts are revealed. What is most accessible to historians writing a decade or two after an actor's time is the accessibility of very personal information about them, from interviews and contemporaries' memories. Writing so close to the events, Schulzinger nonetheless neglects these strengths and attempts to write a book that would probably be more appropriate after the "dust had cleared" a little more. Still, my criticisms are small ones--they are simply a few of the factors which may prevent this very solid work from achieving tour de force status. And although it is very hard to achieve impartiality so close to the fact, Schulzinger has made a noble effort.
TAKING THE SHINE OFF THE GULF WAR
The dominant US performance in the Persian Gulf War was one of the shining moments of recent American foreign policy. The nation could again be proud of a military operation, and we were relieved to at last have "the Vietnam monkey off our backs," in the words of George Bush. But even the victory in the gulf may not have been without blemishes, as Bruce Jentleson argues in With Friends Like These: Reagan, Bush and Saddam, 1982-1990, published by W. W. Norton. Jentleson, professor of political science at UC Davis and onetime foreign policy advisor to Al Gore, was the 1993-1994 special assistant to the director of the P olicy Planning Staff at the State Department. Despite these impressive credentials, he seems unable in this case to come up with a title which reflects the contents of the book--while the title suggests that the book will be about people, specifically Reagan, Bush and Saddam, only Saddam is directly discussed much at all. That is not to say that the book is uninteresting, for Jentleson provides a fascinating account of the global shadow network of front companies, but it is misleading. Beyond this, the book's greatest disappointment is that the analysis chapters fail to present anything earth shattering.
A better title for the book might have been With Friends Like These: US Bureaucracies, Multinational Corporations and Saddam: 1982-1990, for Jentleson's story is a saga of administrations, banks and dual-use technologies rather than personalities. This is exemplified in National Security Directive 26 (NSD-26) a committee document which encapsulated the pre-Kuwait US strategy of rapprochement with Iraq. Bush's personal contribution may not have gone much beyond a signature, while lobbying by corporate forces during the document's drafting was intense. (102)
Jentleson provides little insight into President Bush's thinking beyond listing a couple of sound bites most readers may already be familiar with. An example is Bush's claim that the purpose of Iraqi appeasement was to bring Saddam "into the family of nations." (139) Jentleson makes a half-hearted attempt to criticize Bush's failed "rolodex" diplomacy, which relied too much on personal relations. But even this is unconvincing, as Bush's "personal message" to Saddam was drafted by a committee and actually involved the president very little. (172)
Reagan's presence is even more infrequent. Despite Reagan's title billing, he is mentioned so rarely that we are left wondering if Reagan even had anything to say about Iraq. While it is clear that the Reagan administration developed an Iraq policy, it is not clear what Reagan himself had to do with it. And by the second half of the book, Jentleson abandons Reagan and Bush, as well as the Reagan administration and the Bush administration, and begins referring simply to "Reagan-Bush." (190) Just what kind of imaginary monster is a "Reagan-Bush"? Certainly not one that ever actually existed. While a Reagan-Bush may more than a match for the Jabberwocky, such a creature never made decisions in the Oval Office.
The exception to Jentleson's aversion to personalities is Saddam, who provides all the color we would expect from a maniacal dictator. From his 1959 role as hit man in the Ba'athist assassination attempt on General Qassim to his threat (155) to "make the fire eat half of Israel," Saddam's belligerent personality consistently comes across. Whether describing Saddam's planned Kuwaiti insult at Jiddah or his obsession with building an "Arab Bomb," Jentleson gives us enough Saddam to justify his presence in the title. Although Jentleson has certainly not presented any insights into the inner workings of Saddam's mind, he at least gives us a person to deal with, rather than yet another faceless administration.
One of Saddam's more unusual plans was his dream for a "Super-Gun" capable of reaching deep into Iran and Israel, promised by dissident artillery genius Gerald Bull. (113) Under Bull's guidance, Iraq made considerable progress on the Super-Gun thanks to the import of American Silicon Graphics IRIS Super 380 computers for design. In countless similar incidents, as Jentleson makes clear, Iraq armed for war largely through weapons purchases from western companies. Jentleson's real focus, rather than on individuals, is on the ironic process through which the United States allowed Iraq to purchase weapons and the means to manufacture weapons and then decided that this was a threat.
The heart of Jentleson's story is dual-use technology, (44) ostensibly civilian equipment used for military purposes at sites like Sa'ad 16 by the Ministry of Industrial and Military Industrialization (MIMI). A typical case, repeated again and again in varying forms, is that of New-Jersey based Consarc Corporation's sale of military-grade furnaces to Iraq. Worried that these furnaces could be used to fashion components for nuclear weapons, Consarc reported themselves to the US, but were allowed to go through with the sale. (110) The Commerce department even said that they did not need a license to export the furnaces. Sometimes secretly, sometimes blatantly, Iraq was able to acquire a formidable arsenal. The keystone of this global shadow network was Matrix-Churchill, (120) a British machining company Iraq secretly owned. When British intelligence questioned this, other officials in the Trade Ministry argued that the commercial value was too high to lose, so the British did nothing. Saddam's ability to amass an arsenal, facilitated by military-industrial complex fiscal self-interest and front companies, is the major root of the war to Jentleson.
The discussion of the extremely convoluted web of companies and nations could easily deteriorate into an incomprehensible mush. To his credit, Jentleson is able to retain a clear structure, and as a result the book is very readable and neatly arranged. Each of the six chapters is broken into easily digestible blocks usually less than ten pages and end-of-chapter summaries provide extra convenience. Furthermore, Jentleson's generally successful attempt to separate fact from analysis also contributes to the readability of the book. While the book certainly has its flaws, organization is not one of them.
After spending the first four chapters detailing the events leading up to the Gulf War and arguing that it was in many respects a failure, Jentleson uses the remaining two chapters to develop a policy prescription for the rogue-state scenario. Unfortunately, this "Analysis and Lessons" section flops, rehashing a few simple ideas and attempting to dress up platitudes as respectable theories. One of the points Jentleson is particularly fond of beating into the ground is that the statement, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," is false. This is fine to an extent, but the fact that the phrase eventually evolves into the "enemy-enemy-friend calculus" reflects that Jentleson has spent far too many pages describing this relatively simple idea. This is all the more reprehensible considering that he has also argued that interest groups worried about selling wheat and guns, not policymakers stressing "enemy-enemy-friend," were the real force behind US-Iraqi "friendship."
As far as enemy-enemy-friend goes, Jentleson argues the US failed in its "mixed strategy" because it did not maintain reciprocity, proportionality and deterrent credibility. Otherwise, a triangular strategy in which a weaker power like Saddam is able to play on two other side's fears (US vs. Soviet Union or US vs. Iran) is possible. (185) How can such situations be avoided? Jentleson presents his plan to help future leaders better "conceptualize strategies" for "rogue states." (208) Hopefully these future leaders will have a dictionary on hand.
As admirable as Jentleson's goal is, his prescriptions seem suspiciously like blather. For instance:
There must be a greater self-consciousness about the need to subject premises to analysis and to be open to even (or, arguably, especially) dissonant information. The key is for policymakers to maintain a stronger sense of how their premises can distort their decision-making and make what could have been seen with foresight knowable only in hindsight. (230)Let us take a moment to examine Jentleson's logical contortions. (1)Policymakers make assumptions. (2)These assumptions lead to decisions which are sometimes wrong. (3)In order to avoid making wrong decisions, policymakers need only be more open-minded and avoid incorrect assumptions while accepting correct ones. While this is true enough, it is also not helpful at all, for the means by which policymakers should distinguish incorrect assumptions from correct ones remains a mystery.
Jentleson also hearkens back to George Kennan (20) by asking whether the Gulf War was a failure in "concepts" or "execution." But after having the perspicacity to ask such a question, Jentleson safely fudges by simply saying it was both. Although we needn't slip into false-dichotomy thinking, surely one reason was more consequential than the other. Unfortunately, Jentleson stays on the fence.
With Friends Like These effectively organizes the events and historical context for the origins of the Gulf War. It also succeeds in arguing that despite the shine CNN footage of American "smart bombs" put on the war, it was not a triumph, but a solution to a problem caused by earlier US mistakes. What Jentleson has failed to do, however, is to provide an acceptable solution for preventing rogue-state conflicts in the future. Despite Jentleson's e fforts, no amount of terminology will be enough to save the world.
FEMINIST HISTORY FOR CHAUVINISTS?
I myself am a far cry from a feminist. I certainly would like to be sensitive about women's issues, but I often find myself unable to open my mouth without offending a number of the strident feminists I associate with. In fact, just the other day my obsolete, patriarchal views again embarrassed me during a lunchtime discussion. My comments, along the lines that I personally have yet to "repress" any women prompted one of my colleagues to demand my prompt "rehabilitation." Although I am normally a firm proponent of free speech, in this case I meekly excused myself to pick up some dessert in hopes the conversation would shift in my absence. Unfortunately, this situation is typical--others have repeatedly confirmed that I am a male chauvinist pig.
How then would I respond to a history of women's role in U.S. foreign policy? Admittedly, my gut reaction was skepticism. As far as I knew, the book would be blank--I thought women hadn't had too much of a role in U.S. Foreign Policy until Madeline Albright's recent ascension as Secretary of State. I expected a catalogue of how insignificant events somehow expressed "women's agency" followed by heavy moralizing, after which I would dutifully nod my head and pretend to feel slightly guilty for all the evil males have done. Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones' book, Changing Differences: Women and the Shaping of American Foreign Policy, 1917-1994, however, is a fortunate surprise. Jeffreys-Jones does not seek to radically revise history, but instead to complete it, providing a very plausible history of women's initially small but for the most part growing influence in foreign policy matters over the last century. And although the book is far from perfect--Jeffreys-Jones' points are so carefully made that the book drags at times--it did manage to convince this reader of its thesis that women have played an originally subtle but gradually increasing role in foreign policy determination. And in my case, that was a task that took considerable doing.
Jeffreys-Jones begins with Carrie Chapman Catt, the woman who supposedly struck a deal with Woodrow Wilson to support World War I in exchange for the vote. Then, the book addresses little-remembered but important Dorothy Detzer, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, militaristic hard-liner Margaret Chase Smith, vociferous Bella Abzug, and finally Geraldine Ferraro. Along the way, Jeffreys-Jones clears up important connections in feminist history. For instance, settlement houses such as Jane Addams' Hull House are often cited in history courses as feminist landmarks of the Gilded Age and Progressive Era with very little reason given. Jeffreys-Jones rectifies this situation by unambiguously demonstrating the direct connection between Addams and the shaping of future feminist leadership. In the arena of US Foreign Policy, Addams' most notable protege was Detzer, a leading Washington lobbyist during the 1930s who was one of the first to battle the military-industrial complex. Furthermore, Addams herself unpopularly opposed World War I, won a Nobel Peace Prize in 1931 and "contributed to the fund of ideas" behind the Peace Corps (13). Jeffreys-Jones, perhaps unintentionally, has made it quite clear why high school American History students are required to memorize Addams' name.
Changing Differences does have its flaws. For instance, there are occasional typographical errors, such as on page 192 where Jeffreys-Jones attempts to dismiss the idea that women assume male attitudes when in power, explaining how the "breakthrough hypothesis is discredited in the of the United States." But more problematic than the occasional typo is the too often sluggish pace of the book. Despite its slender size, the book is not a particularly "quick read." Part of this is due to Jeffreys-Jones' careful attempt to make every point as unassailable as possible. This is hardly a crime, and perhaps is even a necessary evil, but it nonetheless makes the book less of a pleasure. Another difficulty readers face is the alphabet soup of feminist organizational acronyms Jeffreys-Jones peppers the first half of the book with. Although it is true that acronyms proliferated greatly in the inter-war period, there surely must be a better logistical method for discussing the groups than Jeffreys-Jones' dogged insistence on repeating each acronym at every conceivable opportunity. The seemingly endless repetition of references to the WILPF, LWV, NAWSA, WCTU, NCPW, AAUW, FTL, and DAR is enough to give all but the staunchest expert on that period's feminist movement a headache.
While the book is at times slow going, that is not to say Jeffreys-Jones lacks a modest amount of flair. Images of "Milk Snatcher Thatcher" (160) and of Soviet foreign minister Andrei Gromyko asking Nancy Reagan to whisper "peace" in her husband's ear each night (184) enliven the latter half of the book. And Bella Abzug's Vietnam-era adventures, perhaps too racy to be reprinted in a polite book review, bring the otherwise elevated language of peace advocacy into the gutter, which turns out to make for much more entertaining reading than other more eloquent protests. In fact, it would probably be very difficult to make a character like Abzug's story boring. But although the pre-war period tends to be a drier, more acronym-desiccated picture, Jeffreys-Jones does manage to relate some good anecdotes even for that period. Most notable is the ironic tale of Oregon's William Chatman Hawley, a pro-tariff representative who refused to acknowledge the new women's constituency in his platform. Since women were the primary defenders of America's pocketbook at this time, the tariff "Gender Gap" resulted in Hawley's electoral defeat. As if this wasn't enough, a car in the street hit the congressman. The injured Hawley stoically waved the driver off, pretending not to be hurt when he saw that it was a woman. (48) Although it was to their detriment, some men, Jeffreys-Jones points out, were unwilling to accept the reality of women's newfound power.
One of the most interesting topics Jeffreys-Jones addresses is the "Iron Lady" phenomenon. The foremost example is Margaret Thatcher, but the stereotype has been repeatedly applied to many women who all come to be seen as "the only man in the government." Senator Margaret Chase Smith is a typical example of such a so-called Iron Lady, a "breakthrough" individual who is forced into male-style belligerence in order to gain male acceptance. The Iron Lady model is a straw man--or perhaps more appropriately a straw woman--that Jeffreys-Jones destroys. According to him, the Iron Ladies were perceived as such not because they were really all that hawkish, but because even the slightest assertion of female power in military questions seemed stunningly hard-line to those who viewed women as inherently peaceful. In an interesting feat of intellectual acrobatics, Jeffreys-Jones uses the stereotype of women as peaceful to explain why female leaders were seen as excessively belligerent, when actually they were all peaceful. The Iron Lady thus becomes the Iron Dove--firm, but interested in deterrence and peace, not "hot wars." Jeffreys-Jones argues that the Iron Dove and the Iron Lady are mutually exclusive. While his point that Margaret Thatcher was more peaceful than other male Prime Ministers with less hawkish reputations is sound, this leads Jeffreys-Jones to return to a stereotype of all women as peaceful, which seems a dubious claim. Even if there are no bona fide Iron Ladies at the current time, Jeffreys-Jones' argument that the existence of Iron Doves necessarily makes Iron Ladies impossible is made without any obvious justification.
Though never of universal applicability to all individuals, stereotypes are instrumental for Jeffrey-Jones' analysis of women's role in US foreign policy. The reason is that female power manifested itself most strongly not in individual officeholders, but in the electoral realities of the so-called "Gender Gap" which imperfect stereotypes encapsulate. As Jeffreys-Jones explains, the Gender Gap has been a constant presence ever since women gained suffrage. But it has evolved. Initially, the gap was over tariff issues. As men and women's roles as consumers converged, the gap on tariff issues shrank. The gap over peace and war, however, has remained. This may change over time, argues Jeffreys-Jones, but women will likely remain more peaceful than men for the foreseeable future. And while women may not have always decided foreign policy, they have increasingly been a factor. And that is something I can agree with.
Experience tells me that the very fact that I am able to agree with Jeffreys-Jones (himself a man) suggests the book is chauvinistic. Although they are not negative ones, Jeffreys-Jones certainly makes rampant use of stereotypes, claiming that "women show a uniform disposition to be peaceful." (173) Jeffreys-Jones tries to save himself in the end, saying that this uniform disposition to be peaceful is "not an unchangeable law of nature but a conscious choice made by women." (199) This may not be enough to save Jeffreys-Jones from criticism. However, such criticism will not come from me. Changing Differences has opened my eyes to a new and unexplored aspect of history. Regardless of how kindly the historiographical consensus will ultimately look on Jeffreys-Jones, he has at least initiated the debate on the topic of women's role in US foreign policy. And that is history worth reading.
© 1998 Garrett Moritz. All rights reserved.