momentarily satisfied . . . until he read the handwritten note from the president to his secretary that had slipped out of the envelope. It said: “Send this jerk the ‘bedbug letter.’ ”
I have thrown a lot of unsigned letters into my outbox over the years. “Solve the problem,” I’ve told my staffs again and again. “I don’t do bedbug letters.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Where on the Battlefield?
S hortly after I became Secretary of State, I received an insightful—and surprising—letter from Ambassador George Kennan, the Grand Old Man of American Diplomacy. I had never met Ambassador Kennan, but I knew him as the most highly regarded, influential, and prophetic American diplomat of the last century. A letter from Kennan was like a report from the burning bush by the Moses of diplomats. When I opened it I expected wise commentary on the great geostrategic issues of the day. Instead, he gave me three pages of heartfelt advice about my new job.
Though then ninety-seven (he died, aged 101, in 2005), he could still produce clear, succinct, powerfully argued prose. As if I needed it, he began by establishing his credentials—oldest living member of the original Foreign Service of 1925–75; seventy-five years of foreign affairs experience as a diplomat and historian; protégé of George Marshall; one of the chief architects of the plan that bears Marshall’s name; and author of the famous “Long Telegram” from Moscow, which laid the foundation of the containment policy that shaped America’s strategy toward the Soviet Union until it collapsed. Kennan was a man of strong opinions and a speaker of hard, unpalatable truths, a lone voice driven more than once into the wilderness. He was always revered, but not always listened to.
After his personal history came the heart of the letter, which started with a reminder of the Founding Fathers’ intention in the years after our nation’s birth regarding the two principal duties of the Secretary of State. The first was to function as the President’s most intimate and authoritative advisor on all aspects of American foreign policy. The second was to exercise administrative control over the State Department and the Foreign Service. He then cut to the chase: you can’t properly perform either of these duties if you are constantly running around the world in your airplane. Recent Secretaries of State, in his view, had been spending too much time flying to other countries for face-to-face meetings with foreign leaders and dignitaries. The role of the Secretary of State is principal foreign policy advisor to the President, not highest-ranking roving ambassador. Surely modern communications made it possible to conduct diplomacy without flying off to meetings all over the world. He had no quarrel with brief travel away from Washington when official duty required it. But absences should be held to a minimum and avoided when suitable alternatives were available.
The problem of Secretaries traveling too much, he continued, was not limited to questions about his presence or absence in Washington. Ambassadors are the President’s representatives to the other nations of the world—the official, institutional, government-to-government links between countries. Because he is there every day, the ambassador’s position should be enhanced as the main channel of diplomatic activity. The too-frequent arrival of the Secretary and assorted special envoys tends to undercut that role. Why spend time with the ambassador when you can persuade the Secretary to drop by?
Well, the Kennan letter pretty much matched the way I wanted to approach the job, and I embraced its recommendations. In my four years as Secretary I traveled a great deal, but not as much as some of my predecessors and nowhere near as much as my successors. Condoleezza Rice and Hillary Clinton set world records.
For some unknown reason, the media, led by the New York Times , started clocking my frequent flyer miles. I
I have thrown a lot of unsigned letters into my outbox over the years. “Solve the problem,” I’ve told my staffs again and again. “I don’t do bedbug letters.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Where on the Battlefield?
S hortly after I became Secretary of State, I received an insightful—and surprising—letter from Ambassador George Kennan, the Grand Old Man of American Diplomacy. I had never met Ambassador Kennan, but I knew him as the most highly regarded, influential, and prophetic American diplomat of the last century. A letter from Kennan was like a report from the burning bush by the Moses of diplomats. When I opened it I expected wise commentary on the great geostrategic issues of the day. Instead, he gave me three pages of heartfelt advice about my new job.
Though then ninety-seven (he died, aged 101, in 2005), he could still produce clear, succinct, powerfully argued prose. As if I needed it, he began by establishing his credentials—oldest living member of the original Foreign Service of 1925–75; seventy-five years of foreign affairs experience as a diplomat and historian; protégé of George Marshall; one of the chief architects of the plan that bears Marshall’s name; and author of the famous “Long Telegram” from Moscow, which laid the foundation of the containment policy that shaped America’s strategy toward the Soviet Union until it collapsed. Kennan was a man of strong opinions and a speaker of hard, unpalatable truths, a lone voice driven more than once into the wilderness. He was always revered, but not always listened to.
After his personal history came the heart of the letter, which started with a reminder of the Founding Fathers’ intention in the years after our nation’s birth regarding the two principal duties of the Secretary of State. The first was to function as the President’s most intimate and authoritative advisor on all aspects of American foreign policy. The second was to exercise administrative control over the State Department and the Foreign Service. He then cut to the chase: you can’t properly perform either of these duties if you are constantly running around the world in your airplane. Recent Secretaries of State, in his view, had been spending too much time flying to other countries for face-to-face meetings with foreign leaders and dignitaries. The role of the Secretary of State is principal foreign policy advisor to the President, not highest-ranking roving ambassador. Surely modern communications made it possible to conduct diplomacy without flying off to meetings all over the world. He had no quarrel with brief travel away from Washington when official duty required it. But absences should be held to a minimum and avoided when suitable alternatives were available.
The problem of Secretaries traveling too much, he continued, was not limited to questions about his presence or absence in Washington. Ambassadors are the President’s representatives to the other nations of the world—the official, institutional, government-to-government links between countries. Because he is there every day, the ambassador’s position should be enhanced as the main channel of diplomatic activity. The too-frequent arrival of the Secretary and assorted special envoys tends to undercut that role. Why spend time with the ambassador when you can persuade the Secretary to drop by?
Well, the Kennan letter pretty much matched the way I wanted to approach the job, and I embraced its recommendations. In my four years as Secretary I traveled a great deal, but not as much as some of my predecessors and nowhere near as much as my successors. Condoleezza Rice and Hillary Clinton set world records.
For some unknown reason, the media, led by the New York Times , started clocking my frequent flyer miles. I
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