Showing posts with label The Wounded Presidency. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Wounded Presidency. Show all posts

Wednesday, 29 January 2020

The Untold Story of U.S. Foreign Policy During the Clinton Impeachment Crisis

The Untold Story of U.S. Foreign Policy During the Clinton Impeachment Crisis

Photo Illustration by Ricky Ferrer / Foreign Affairs

Just after 10:30 AM on August 7, 1998, two truck bombs exploded within minutes of each other outside the U.S. embassies in Kenya and Tanzania, killing 224 people—12 of them Americans—and wounding more than 5,000 others. In the days that followed, the FBI and the CIA briefed U.S. President Bill Clinton on those they believed were responsible. “This one is a slam dunk, Mr. President,” said the CIA’s basketball-loving director, George Tenet. “There is no doubt that this was an al Qaeda operation.”

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The remains of the U.S. embassy in Nairobi, August 1998Franco Pagetti / VII / Redux

The CIA had been tracking Osama bin Laden, the fanatical son of a Saudi construction magnate, since 1996. His global organization, al Qaeda, was not yet synonymous with mass carnage, but the CIA knew that it was plotting operations against U.S. interests around the world. Now, the CIA director didn’t just have proof that bin Laden was behind the East African embassy bombings—he had intelligence that would allow the president to target the terrorist mastermind. Bin Laden planned to attend a meeting near the southern Afghan town of Khost on August 20, the agency had learned. Soon after the meeting with Tenet, Clinton told his national security adviser, Samuel Berger, to begin preparations for a military strike.

But as Berger and other aides drew up a target list for the planned attack, a very different kind of intelligence altered Clinton’s presidency forever. On August 16, the president learned that semen found on the dress of former White House intern Monica Lewinsky contained DNA that matched his own. For the last seven months, Clinton had denied an affair with Lewinsky, including in a sworn deposition related to a separate sexual harassment suit brought by former Arkansas state employee Paula Jones. But he had agreed to appear voluntarily before the grand jury of Independent Counsel Kenneth Starr, and the date for his testimony had been set for August 17. Now, with the evidence from the dress, the president would have to admit what modern science could prove.

Clinton constantly worried about blurring the lines between domestic politics and foreign policy.

The implications of the scandal enveloping the White House weren’t lost on Clinton’s national security team as it assembled a plan to assassinate bin Laden by cruise missile. Daniel Benjamin and Steven Simon, both staffers on the National Security Council, recalled Secretary of Defense William Cohen saying to members of the NSC in the Situation Room that the president would face criticism for “trying to change the subject.” After the Pentagon shared the final plan for the strike with Clinton, another aide cautioned the president about the political optics of military action. “If I have to take more criticism for this, I will,” Clinton replied.

And take criticism he did. On August 17, Clinton appeared before the grand jury and then went on national television to admit an inappropriate relationship with Lewinsky. Three days later, U.S. warships fired dozens of Tomahawk missiles at al Qaeda training camps in Afghanistan and at a suspected chemical weapons factory in Sudan. Bin Laden escaped unharmed, and the Sudanese factory turned out to make pharmaceuticals. But even before the error in Sudan was confirmed, some lawmakers reacted to the missile strikes with incredulity. Although Republican leaders supported the president’s decision, the grumbling on Capitol Hill was so widespread that members of the president’s own party felt the need to respond. “I know some are suggesting this was a decision made for other reasons, because of the Monica Lewinsky investigation,” Senator Christopher J. Dodd, of Connecticut, said. “To those people I have one thing to say: Either put up or shut up.”

But the narrative didn’t go away. At a Pentagon press briefing on August 20, a journalist even asked Secretary of Defense William Cohen if he had seen the Hollywood movie “Wag the Dog,” in which the U.S. president stages a fake war in Albania in the midst of a sex scandal. Although wholly unsubstantiated, the “Wag the Dog” parallel caught on in popular culture—and it hit a nerve with the president. And as the scandal devolved into the second impeachment crisis of the superpower era, Clinton constantly worried about being perceived as blurring the lines between domestic politics and foreign policy. The pressures of impeachment would continually test that sacred barrier and occasionally breach it—just as they had in the Nixon era.

NEW WORLD, NEW THREATS

Clinton handled impeachment in a fundamentally different way than Nixon did a quarter century earlier, but his vulnerability invited similar challenges from revisionist powers bent on disrupting the international system. Unlike Nixon, who delegated day-to-day responsibility for foreign policy to Henry Kissinger, Clinton remained the most important decision-maker throughout his impeachment saga. A decade younger than Nixon was during Watergate, Clinton was also not as psychologically traumatized by his personal political crisis. His resilience enabled him to devote more energy and focus to foreign policy. Even so, during a meeting in the Middle East in December 1998, when the House’s impeachment hearings were at their height, aides watched the president scrawl on a notepad, “focus on your job, focus on your job, focus on your job.” Clinton seems to have followed his own advice for the most part, and he never shifted overall supervision of foreign affairs to his lieutenants.

 Clinton also faced a very different international system than Nixon did. The end of the Cold War had weakened the ability of the superpowers—never great to begin with—to temper or blunt regional power plays. At the same time, it unleashed new and deadly transnational ambitions among non-state actors that seemed more characteristic of the Middle Ages than of the modern era. Compared to Nixon and Kissinger, Clinton and his national security staff faced a more formidable cast of villains eager to exploit the administration’s domestic difficulties. As Clinton confided in his closest ally, British Prime Minister Tony Blair, a few days before the bin Laden strike, “We’re going to increasingly have to deal with terrorists with no ties to any nation-state …[I]n the case of a lot of Middle East and African countries, we could be dealing with these people, like in those old James Bond movies with SPECTRE and Dr. No. We’re going to have a twenty-first-century version of those.”

Clinton and Blair in Washington, D.C., April 1999Larry Downing / Reuters

The nature of such adversaries made the late 1990s a very different testing ground for a weakened U.S. presidency than the early 1970s. Clinton faced multiple foes with less to gain from shoring up the international system than from disrupting it. Among these, in addition to bin Laden, were Serbian leader Slobodan Milosevic and Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein, both of whom sensed opportunity in the wounded American presidency. Each sought to defy the United States in a moment of domestic political confusion, often adjusting the boldness of their provocations to match their perceptions of Clinton’s weakness.

TROUBLE IN KOSOVO

Trouble came first from Milosevic, less than a month after early rumors of Clinton’s affair with Lewinsky appeared on the Drudge Report in January 1998. The Serbian leader, then the self-styled president of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, had begun flooding troops into the rebellious province of Kosovo. Milosevic feared that the province’s Albanian majority would follow the lead of the Croats, Slovenes, and Bosnians in seeking independence from the rump Yugoslav state, and so he prepared to crush any such aspirations.

While the situation in Kosovo deteriorated, so did the U.S. president’s domestic political position.

The United States had played a leading role in forcing Serbia to accept the loss of most of Bosnia in 1995. As a result, Milosevic saw any weakening of the American presidency as helpful in holding on to the territories that remained under his control. In July, Milosevic’s forces began “busting” Kosovar towns, driving out Albanian-speaking civilians with the stated goal of rooting out members of the separatist Kosovo Liberation Army. The Pentagon worried that full-scale ethnic cleansing was not far behind, and so it submitted plans for an air campaign to NATO, which had already undertaken an unsuccessful flyover exercise in order to deter the Serbian leader. 

While the situation in Kosovo deteriorated, so did the U.S. president’s domestic political position. On September 9, Starr issued his salacious report to Congress, recommending articles of impeachment against Clinton for lying under oath and then seeking to cover up his affair with Lewinsky. Almost immediately, the Republican majority in the House began preparing for an impeachment inquiry, which the House Judiciary Committee formally commenced on October 5.

By October 2, Clinton had decided to prepare Congress and the public for air strikes against Milosevic. But the president didn’t want or expect that the United States would ultimately have to use force. Clinton sent his chief Balkans negotiator, Ambassador Richard Holbrooke, to Belgrade to broker a diplomatic settlement with Milosevic. On October 12, Holbrooke struck what he thought was a deal to get the Serbian leader to withdraw his forces from Kosovo. But the White House and the U.S. team at NATO couldn’t be sure the agreement would hold, so preparations for an air strike continued. The North Atlantic Council, NATO’s political arm, approved an air campaign that would begin as early as October 16, and NATO began assembling strike aircraft in Italy to put Milosevic on notice. Clinton continued to believe that even though his presidency was under strain in Washington, the threat of force was credible and would be enough to convince the Serbian leader to back down. “I’m convinced we can avoid military action, if it [military action] is always hanging there,” he told Blair on October 14.

A Royal Air Force jet during the NATO campaign in Kosovo, October 1998Handout / Reuters

The president was right about the Serbian dictator, at least for the time being. The next day, October 15, Milosevic caved, pledging to withdraw the forces he had deployed to Kosovo over the last seven months. General Wesley Clark, the NATO military commander, met with Milosevic that day to nail down the details of the withdrawal, and NATO agreed to put a ten-day hold on the planned air strikes to ensure Milosevic’s compliance. For the moment, Clinton’s high-stakes brinkmanship appeared to have paid off. His impeachment troubles, moreover, didn’t seem to have diminished his ability to cow a dictator like Milosevic into submission.

TROUBLE IN BAGHDAD

But the embattled U.S. president didn’t have to face down just one revisionist autocrat that October. And while one can debate the extent to which domestic U.S. politics shaped Milosevic’s choice of tactics in Kosovo, there can be little doubt that Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein sought to take advantage of the impeachment scandal to escape a UN containment regime imposed on him by Clinton’s predecessor, President George H. W. Bush.

Clinton was confident he would get bipartisan support to go through with the strikes in Iraq.

At the end of the Gulf War in 1991, the UN Security Council had passed Resolution 687, which required Iraq to identify and destroy all of its weapons of mass destruction and ballistic missiles with a range greater than 150 kilometers. Although Iraq had formally accepted the resolution in April 1991, seven years later the United States believed that Saddam was cheating. “I’ve reached the conclusion after eliminating all possible alternatives that Saddam still has the makings of a chemical and biological program he doesn’t want to give up,” Clinton had told Blair back in February. As he had been with Milosevic, Clinton was prepared to threaten force, but bombing was not his preferred means of dealing with the dictator. In the same conversation with Blair, he had revealed that he had sent a signal to Saddam through King Hassan of Morocco: “I told him to go to Saddam, call him, and tell him that I have no interest in killing him or hunting him down. I’m not fooling with him. I just don’t want his chemical and biological program going forward.”

In the summer of 1998, the U.S. president’s deteriorating political fortunes seem to have emboldened the Iraqi dictator. On August 5, Saddam expelled UN inspectors sent to catalogue Iraq’s compliance with the WMD portion of Resolution 687. Clinton sought to pressure Saddam through additional UN sanctions, but, unlike Milosevic, the Iraqi dictator dug in. On October 31, Iraq announced that it was ending all cooperation with the UN inspection regime, known as UNSCOM. Unless the UN lifted sanctions and purged certain UNSCOM officials that the Iraqis didn’t like, weapons inspectors wouldn’t be allowed back into the country.

Clinton seemed to grasp that the Iraqi leader was testing him. On November 3, the day of the midterm elections in the United States, he called Blair again. “We have to take decisive action this time to respond to Saddam’s challenge,” he said. “It is clear to me that Saddam really wants to force the [Security] Council to lift sanctions without giving up his weapons of mass destruction and missile program.”

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Gingrich in Marietta, Georgia, December 1998Tami Chappell / Reuters

Later that day, the U.S. president received an unexpected boost as a result of the midterms, one that would cause the threat of impeachment to temporarily recede and likely strengthened his hand with Saddam. Historically, second-term presidents have seen their parties lose seats in their sixth year in office. But in the 1998 midterms, the Democrats, not the Republicans, gained seats (five in total), signaling that impeachment was a political loser. Republican Speaker Newt Gingrich, who had made impeachment the rallying cry of the midterm campaign, was forced to resign his speakership on November 7, pending the selection of his replacement.

Clinton and his aides assumed that the Republican drive for impeachment would end as a result, but they pressed ahead with their preparations to strike Saddam’s military headquarters as well as his suspected WMD depots. On November 11, Clinton told his friend and historian Taylor Branch, with whom he was taping a presidential diary, that he assumed the impeachment crisis had subsided. He also told his diarist that he had approved “orders to dispatch more bombers and reposition ships” for the planned operation in Iraq. He hoped Saddam would get the message and back down as Milosevic had done. If the Iraqi leader didn’t, Clinton was confident he would get support from Republicans as well as Democrats to go through with the strikes. 

Clinton’s signaling worked once again, and on November 14, the Iraqis sent two letters to the UN, the second less equivocal than the first, promising to allow UNSCOM back in. Berger rejected the first as “Swiss cheese,” or full of holes, and because there was a great deal of uncertainty about whether the second was acceptable, the military preparations continued.

The next day, with U.S. and British bombers in the air, Clinton finally decided to place a hold on the strikes. He did so over the objections of Secretary of State Madeline Albright, Secretary of Defense Cohen, and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Hugh Shelton, all of whom thought that Saddam couldn’t be trusted to keep his word. But the president felt that he couldn’t launch a strike that would inevitably kill Iraqis if Saddam had formally backed down. In calling off the attack, Clinton made it clear that this was Saddam’s last chance: if he interfered with UNSCOM’s disarmament mission again, the United States would respond with military force.

THE PRIZE OF MIDEAST PEACE

Clinton’s successful brinkmanship with Saddam and Milosevic in the fall of 1998 came at a moment when his presidency was imperiled, although not yet in mortal danger. But neither threat of force was a “Wag the Dog” story. Had the embattled president wanted to distract the public from his personal foibles, he would have actually struck these deserving targets. Instead, he got them to back down without resorting to violence.

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Netanyahu, Clinton, and Arafat in Washington, D.C., October 1998Stephen Crowley / The New York Times / Redux

But not all areas of U.S. foreign policy remained insulated from domestic political pressures in the early days of Clinton’s impeachment crisis. Like Nixon before him, Clinton energetically sought a major foreign policy achievement to prove his indispensability. And also like Nixon, he sought that achievement in the Middle East. But Clinton’s chief Middle East negotiator, Ambassador Dennis Ross, found steering a peace process in the middle of an impeachment crisis much harder than Kissinger did.

“I could hardly insulate my efforts from the drama being played out in Washington,” recalled Ross, who served as a Middle East negotiator for both George H. W. Bush and Clinton. “President Clinton’s ability to survive in office was in doubt, with ill effect for the peace process.” Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in particular was skeptical that the president could remain in office. Yasir Arafat, leader of the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), had his own concerns, but he accepted Ross’s optimistic prognosis that the president would fend off this constitutional challenge.

Nonetheless, Clinton set his sights on the ultimate prize of Middle East peace. Back in 1994, the Gaza-Jericho Agreement between Israel and the PLO had started a five-year clock to complete a final agreement on Palestinian statehood and Israeli withdrawal from the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. A year later, an interim agreement laid out some guideposts for redrawing the map in the areas Israel had occupied since 1967, transforming these areas into three zones of varying Israeli and Palestinian control. But the final map and the timetable for Israeli withdrawal remained unresolved in the fall of 1998. With less than a year remaining before the end of the five-year period, after which the PLO threatened to declare independence, there was already pressure on the parties to reach an agreement. Clinton’s impending impeachment added a touch of political desperation to the mix.

During his famous “shuttle diplomacy” in 1974, Kissinger had effectively held three posts: chief Middle East negotiator, secretary of state, and national security adviser. Twenty years later, three people held those positions—and impeachment tested the triad. In early September, Clinton ratcheted up the pressure on Berger and Albright, who, in turn, pressured Ross to wrap up the agreement between Netanyahu and Arafat.

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Berger and Albright in Washington, D.C., August 1998Gary Cameron / Reuters

Clinton pushed his Middle East team even harder after Starr’s damaging report was released to the public on September 11 and the gears of impeachment began to turn in Congress. Ross later recalled that he was being pressed “under the pressure of the Starr Report … to show that the President was doing his job, was not distracted, and was visibly dealing with highly sensitive, serious issues.” Ross added: “I would say that’s the one time—and I would also say that’s a unique circumstance where he literally thinks that his Presidency may be at stake and the only way to save his Presidency is to show that he’s being Presidential. I mean, it didn’t have to be this issue, it could have been something else, but this was the one that was there and it was probably most prominent and could capture attention.”

When Ross reported back that Arafat and Netanyahu were still far from a deal, Clinton apparently pounded the table, demanding that Albright and Berger get the results that he needed. Clinton wanted Arafat and the Israeli prime minister to come to the United States to conclude an agreement so he could have a very public diplomatic victory. For Nixon, the standard had been a repeat of his China trip. For Clinton, the standard was President Jimmy Carter’s historic 1978 Camp David accords, a peace deal between Egypt and Israel that enabled Israel’s withdrawal from the Sinai.

In the end, Netanyahu offered Clinton a quid pro quo.

But Ross wasn’t Kissinger. He didn’t have the chits to play, and neither Albright nor Berger controlled a foreign policy regency. All U.S. foreign policy power flowed directly from Clinton, and he his stature overseas had diminished as a result of the scandal. Ross didn’t sugarcoat the situation for his bosses: “The President doesn’t have the authority or clout with them [Arafat and Netanyahu] that he had previously—and they won’t make concessions just because he needs them to do a deal.”

Another problem was the president’s schedule, since the president wanted to be personally involved in closing the agreement. Clinton’s approval rating remained high throughout the fall, despite the revelations of his affair and the opening of an impeachment inquiry. As a result, Democratic congressional candidates were eager for him to stump for them in their districts, a task the president viewed as a welcome distraction. Unlike Nixon, Clinton loved campaigning. But the midterms placed an artificial deadline on the Middle East negotiations, since Clinton political team hoped he would be available by October 24 or so for the last week of the campaign.

Clinton and Netanyahu at the Wye River Plantation, October 1998Handout / Reuters

That deadline—and the U.S. president’s need for a win—gave Netanyahu an edge. The Israeli leader agreed to come to the Wye Plantation in Maryland on October 15 for negotiations with Arafat, but he wasn’t prepared to make additional concessions. Although the peace process was very popular with most Israelis, it was not popular with the base of supporters that propped up his fragile Likud government. As a result, for Netanyahu the advantage lay in appearing to be for peace without really doing anything to achieve it.

In the end, Netanyahu offered Clinton a quid pro quo. U.S. negotiators thought they were on the verge of brokering an agreement between Netanyahu and Arafat, but at the last minute, the Israeli prime minister insisted that he could not give his final assent without a side agreement with Clinton: the United States would have to pledge to release Jonathan Pollard, a U.S. citizen who had been convicted of spying for Israel. In his memoirs, Clinton admitted that he told Netanyahu that he was "inclined" to release Pollard if that was what it would take for Netanyahu to accept the deal with Arafat.

Anne Pollard announces a hunger strike to protest her husband's sentencing in Jerusalem, October 1998Rula Halawani / Reuters

Clinton floated this idea on his own, and when he told his negotiating team that he had done so, many members objected. Albright thought that Netanyahu was engaging in blackmail. Tenet, whose CIA was essential for brokering the complex security arrangements that would be needed to govern the future West Bank, threatened to resign on the spot if the Pollard deal happened. The U.S. intelligence community had experienced Pollard’s espionage as not just a personal betrayal but as a betrayal of Israel’s special intelligence relationship with the United States. With hours left before the Clinton administration’s self-imposed deadline of October 23, the Israelis leaked that the deal wasn’t happening because Clinton had reneged on his promise to Netanyahu.

Neither Clinton nor Netanyahu could afford to let the negotiations fail. Both leaders needed a win for their own domestic reasons. So instead of giving ground to one another, they decided to take something away from Arafat. The agreement on the table had promised to release from Israeli jails some 750 Palestinians, some of whom had injured or killed people. Now Clinton secretly promised Netanyahu that Israel could release more common criminals and fewer people whom Arafat viewed as political prisoners. Clinton vaguely revealed to his team that he had agreed to let Netanyahu alter the “mix” of prisoners to be released, so that they could get Arafat’s reluctant approval. But the U.S. president withheld the key detail that he had assured Netanyahu that he could refuse to release anyone with “blood on their hands.”

On October 23, Arafat and Netanyahu joined Clinton in Washington, D.C. for the signing of the Wye River memorandum. The agreement was to give the Palestinian Authority control over 40 percent of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, a major improvement over the 27 percent agreed on in 1995. For their part, the Israelis were to receive security guarantees, monitored by the United States, from the Palestine Liberation Army, the military wing of the PLO. The Clinton-Netanyahu understanding on Palestinian prisoners, once it became known, angered the Palestinians, but it didn’t scuttle the deal—or the diplomatic win that it conferred on Clinton.

DESERT FOX

Reading the news about impeachment in Miami, Florida, December 1998Colin Braley / Reuters

The president’s domestic political problems didn’t disappear with the midterms. Even without Speaker Gingrich, the Republicans continued to pursue impeachment, to Clinton’s surprise. On December 11, the House Judiciary Committee sent three articles of impeachment to the House floor. The next day the Committee added a fourth, setting the stage for a debate and then a vote by the entire House. For the first time since October, Clinton’s presidency seemed in jeopardy, and once again, U.S. adversaries took note.

In early December, Saddam resumed his obstruction of UNSCOM’s inspection efforts and refused its representatives entry to an installation controlled by the ruling Baath Party. The move was a violation of Clinton’s November ultimatum and of the Iraqi leader’s commitment to the United Nations. On December 11, the same day that the Judiciary Committee sent its articles of impeachment to the floor, Clinton called Blair and told him that there would have to be a military response. Operation Desert Fox began five days later and included 650 bomber or missile sorties by U.S. and British air forces. It lasted four days and targeted Iraqi command and control sites as well as installations associated with WMD delivery systems. In addition, the Clinton administration changed its official Iraqi policy from “containment” to “containment plus” and made “regime change” its explicit goal.

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A U.S. jump jet on high alert after operation Desert Fox, December 1998Pool / Reuters

Predictably, the operation reignited earlier partisan claims that the president was trying to distract the American public from his domestic political woes. Clinton had called off the planned attack against Baghdad in November, when the threat of impeachment was dissipating. In doing so, he had disappointed many on his national security team. Now, the president was forging ahead with the strikes at a time when the country was once again riveted by the impeachment drama. As a result, he was again vulnerable to charges, however unfair, of creating a “Wag the Dog” diversion.

But it was the Pentagon, not the president, that recommended the air strikes and their timing. “I would never have been a party to anything—neither Cohen nor I—that was not based on sound military logic and something that needed to be done militarily,” Shelton, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, later recalled. “The timing of that particular one had been made by Cohen and me, primarily based on my recommendation because of the light conditions, the attack conditions, the weather conditions that were forecast, and Ramadan that fell in that particular area.”

HOLD YOUR FIRE

On December 19, 1998, the House approved two of the four articles of impeachment, necessitating the first Senate trial of a president since 1868. (Nixon resigned before the House approved any articles of impeachment.) Under the U.S. constitution, the bar is very high to remove a president, requiring the vote of two-thirds of the senators. But the Senate had a Republican majority, and despite Clinton’s enduring public support, even some senators from his own party wanted to find a way to punish him for his dishonesty and his Oval Office indiscretions.

The opportunity to get Bin Laden came just when Clinton’s impeachment crisis reached a crescendo.

The trial, which started on January 7, 1999, coincided with yet another sensitive military decision involving an opportunistic U.S. adversary. Ever since the failed attempt to kill bin Laden in August 1998, Clinton’s national security team had remained on the lookout for another opportunity to permanently disrupt al Qaeda’s leadership. Following the U.S. and British air campaign in Iraq, the terrorist mastermind had issued a threat that prompted the United States to close 38 embassies and three consulates in Africa for two full days. Not long after, Clinton’s national security team received intelligence that put bin Laden back in their sights. The opportunity to get him, it turned out, came just when Clinton’s impeachment crisis reached a crescendo.

Back in mid-December, U.S. intelligence officials had received information that the terrorist leader was spending a lot of time in Kandahar. At the beginning of February, the intelligence became more precise: bin Laden was at or near a desert hunting camp called Sheik Ali, and, according to later revelations in the 9/11 Commission Report, CIA informants believed he would be there until midmorning on February 11. On or about February 8, the White House ordered the Pentagon to begin preparing for another missile strike.

Camera crews wait outside the Senate chamber for news of the impeachment trial in Washington, D.C., February 1999Stephen Crowley / The New York Times / Redux

The timing could not have been worse for Clinton. February 8 was the day that the House impeachment managers, arguing for prosecution, and the president’s lawyers made their closing arguments in his Senate trial. The window of opportunity for the bin Laden strike—between then and February 11—coincided with the closed-door deliberations of the senators who would be deciding whether to convict or acquit Clinton.

Some in the administration counseled against carrying out the strike. Prominent figures from the United Arab Emirates were also known to be at the Sheik Ali camp. Clinton worried about what would happen if the Emiratis were killed and bin Laden survived or turned out not to have been there. But the tide in the administration seemed to be turning toward taking that risk—as well as the risk of an impeachment-related political uproar. Later, the 9/11 Commission found reason to believe that House Speaker Dennis Hastert, who had replaced Gingrich in January, was notified of an impending attack. The U.S. military was ready to strike on the morning of February 11.

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A demonstrator outside the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C., February 1999Kevin Lamarque / Reuters

But the attack didn’t happen, and there is reason to believe that the Senate trial influenced Clinton’s decision to hold back. Top officials in his administration have sought to dispel that notion. “Before a decision could be made as to whether to launch a strike,” Tenet later wrote, “we got word [bin Laden] had moved on.” But that information came on February 12, a day after the U.S. military was ready to strike. And although no NSC staffers—in discussions with the 9/11 Commission—blamed the Senate trial for the president’s decision, they were divided over whether the intelligence had been good enough to run the risk of killing the Emiratis. In his memoirs, Tenet noted that he “never saw any evidence that Clinton’s personal problems distracted him from focusing on his official duties.” Nevertheless, he allowed that “[p]erhaps they circumscribed the range of actions he could take.” On February 12, the day that the military stood down the planned strike in Afghanistan, the Senate acquitted Clinton on both of the impeachment counts.

A HOBBESIAN WORLD

Compared to Nixon’s impeachment crisis in 1973-74, Clinton’s impeachment crisis coincided with a more turbulent period in U.S. foreign relations. Nixon and Kissinger’s unusual relationship, and the unusual respect it was accorded overseas, explains part the difference, but there is a more important reason that Clinton faced so many tests in his moment of greatest vulnerability. Fewer powers had an interest in propping up a weakened chief executive in 1998-99 than in 1973-74, and more had an interest in challenging him when he seemed vulnerable. While the United States was indisputably the world’s sole superpower during Clinton’s presidency, its relative power was beginning to ebb. More important, a greater number of countries and dangerous nonstate actors were eager to reshape the global system that had emerged after the Cold War.

The weakening of Trump’s authority will invite ever greater challenges to U.S. interests.

What was true at the end of the 1990s is even truer today. In 2016, Americans elected a leader who rejected the very notion of an international system that relies on the United States to maintain equipoise. U.S. President Donald Trump understands international affairs through threats and counterthreats, bluffs, and exploitation, and these are the means by which he expects other countries to behave. The success of Trump’s approach depends on the illusion of U.S. invincibility, and by extension his own. A weakening of his authority, in this more Hobbesian world, will invite ever greater challenges to U.S. interests.

Historians have much to learn about the tit for tat between Iran and the United States in the final months of 2019, but, at the very least, Quds Force commander Qasem Soleimani and the Iranian leadership underestimated what Trump would do if tested during his impeachment crisis. There can be no doubt, however, that another U.S. adversary, North Korea’s Kim Jong Un, has taken advantage of the current impeachment crisis to resume his nuclear program. On December 31, 2019, Kim announced a “new path,” promising more nuclear tests and a backing away from diplomatic efforts to denuclearize. In January, reports emerged of preparations for more missile tests.

Moreover, the Trumpian worldview ensures that American foreign relations will be distorted to serve the end of personal political survival. The Nixon and Clinton cases show that while those presidents occasionally breached the barrier between domestic politics and foreign policy, they knew that they shouldn’t. Trump has no such compunction, as the very basis for the impeachment trial makes clear. The use of executive action to distract, which Nixon and Clinton were at least wary of when it came to foreign affairs, was a beloved tool of this president before impeachment was even on the horizon. Having sold himself as a dealmaker, moreover, Trump is even more likely than his predecessors to want to produce agreements with foreign states. The details of the recently signed U.S.-Chinese trade deal have yet to be made public. But it is unlikely this time that Beijing acted as it did in 1973-74, helping a wounded president maintain a stable international system. Rather, like Netanyahu in 1998, it likely exploited the U.S. president’s need for a deal that he can hold up as a win. Even after being impeached for subordinating the national interest to his own, Trump appears to see foreign policy only as a means to personal ends. “Get over it,” as his acting chief of staff Mick Mulvaney advises us all.  


The Untold Story of U.S. Foreign Policy During the Nixon Impeachment Crisis

The Wounded Presidency, Part One

The Untold Story of U.S. Foreign Policy During the Nixon Impeachment Crisis

Photo Illustration by Ricky Ferrer / Foreign Affairs

“If the Democrats and the U.S. public do not stop laying siege to their government, sooner or later someone will take a run at us,” Secretary of State Henry Kissinger said to a small group of national security principals assembled in the White House Situation Room. It was nearing midnight on October 24, 1973, and Kissinger believed that the Soviets were about to exploit the wounded presidency of Richard Nixon to challenge the United States in the Middle East. The secretary of state had received an ominous phone call at 9:35 that evening from the Soviet ambassador in Washington, Anatoly Dobrynin, who delivered an urgent message from Leonid Brezhnev: the Soviet leader sought a joint U.S.-Soviet intervention in Egypt, but absent U.S. cooperation the Soviets were prepared to go it alone.

It had been a little more than two weeks since Egypt and Syria began a coordinated offensive against Israel, blowing past the cease-fire lines established after the 1967 Arab-Israeli War and capturing much of the Sinai Peninsula and some of the Golan Heights. But the Israelis had recovered from the initial shock of the Yom Kippur attack, and with the help of a significant U.S. resupply effort, pushed the invading armies back. The Soviets had undertaken a resupply effort of their own to aid the Egyptians, but now the Israelis had crossed the Suez Canal, encircled Egypt’s Third Army, and violated a superpower-brokered cease-fire by moving into the city of Suez. So worried was Brezhnev about the fate of his Egyptian ally that Kissinger believed the Soviets were contemplating a military intervention.

“I will say it straight,” Dobrynin said, quoting from Brezhnev’s message, “that if you find it impossible to act jointly with us in this matter, we should be faced with the necessary urgency to consider the question of taking appropriate steps unilaterally. We cannot allow arbitrariness on the part of Israel.”

Fifteen minutes after he got off the phone with the Soviet ambassador, Kissinger called White House Chief of Staff Alexander M. Haig, Jr. “I think we have to go to the mat on this one,” Kissinger said. “Should I wake up the president?” The perceived threat from Moscow necessitated the question, but developments closer to home likely determined the answer. Nixon was then in the first days of a crisis that would eventually end his presidency. Four days earlier, in what would become known as the Saturday Night Massacre, he had ordered the firing of Archibald Cox, the Watergate special prosecutor, and the closure of the independent inquiry into the June 1972 burglary of the Democratic National Committee headquarters and the ensuing White House cover-up. The country had erupted in bipartisan outrage, spurring Democrats and Republicans alike to endorse the first impeachment inquiry since 1868.

The rubber gloves worn by the Watergate burglars, 1973
The rubber gloves worn by the Watergate burglars, 1973George Tames / The New York Times / Redux

The turn of events in the Watergate scandal had thrown Nixon into a funk. Stress often destabilized the president, causing him to test his famously low tolerance for alcohol and bringing to the fore the darker elements of his nature. With his presidency suddenly in peril, his aides feared he was too unstable to respond to the emerging crisis in the Middle East. To Kissinger’s question about waking the president, Haig answered with a single word: “No.”

POLITICS AND THE NATIONAL INTEREST

The headlines in New York City, August 1974
The headlines in New York City, August 1974Neal Boenzi / The New York Times / Redux

Although Americans tend to view impeachment as a domestic affair, efforts to remove a sitting president inevitably reverberate beyond U.S. borders. When the leader of a superpower is hobbled, the world reacts. And each U.S. president to face impeachment has dealt with that reaction differently: Nixon delegated responsibility for foreign policy during Watergate, whereas Bill Clinton continued to immerse himself in foreign-policy making throughout his own impeachment scandal. But in every impeachment battle, including the current one, the commander in chief’s fight for political survival has shaped the conduct of U.S. foreign policy as well as its reception around the world.

For as long as the United States has been a superpower, its foreign policy establishment has embraced the idea of a wall between foreign policy and domestic politics. This consensus flows from a shared belief in the existence of national interests, which though not necessarily fixed, transcend individual presidencies. Of course, the wall represents an ideal. Domestic political pressures intrude on foreign-policy making in every presidency, and there are policy areas where the two are inextricably linked—trade policy, for example. Even before he was elected, Nixon showed that he was not above subverting U.S. foreign policy to advance his political aims: in 1968, he interfered with peace talks with North Vietnam lest they benefit his opponent. But his impeachment crisis, and Clinton’s after it, put additional pressure on the wall between domestic politics and foreign policy, as both presidents reached for accomplishments overseas that would make them seem indispensable at home. Moments of presidential overreach during both the Nixon and Clinton impeachment crises had similar causes, but slightly different effects. More significant were the differences in how foreign powers reacted—differences that help to explain the world’s response to the current U.S. impeachment crisis.

Treasury Secretary William E. Simon, Nancy Kissinger, and Kissinger listen to Nixon’s farewell, Washington, D.C., August 1974
Treasury Secretary William E. Simon, Nancy Kissinger, and Kissinger listen to Nixon’s farewell, Washington, D.C., August 1974Mike Lien / The New York Times / Redux

A wounded American presidency might seem like an opportunity for U.S. adversaries, and one can instantly grasp why Kissinger feared a challenge from Moscow while Nixon’s position was weakening. But the story of what might be called the Kissinger Regency, when the secretary of state exercised broad control over U.S. foreign policy, shows why his fears about Moscow were misplaced—and why the biggest threat to U.S. global leadership in times of domestic crisis comes not necessarily from great-power rivals, which have a stake in upholding the status quo, but from revisionist powers bent on upending the international system. Turkey, Greece, and possibly North Vietnam sought to capitalize on Nixon’s impeachment, whereas the Soviet Union and China actually came to the president’s aid. A quarter of a century on, the Clinton impeachment saga invited similar revisionist provocations, but more of them this time, from Iraq, Serbia, and a nonstate actor, Osama bin Laden.

Trump has collapsed foreign policy and domestic politics into a single, self-serving enterprise.

What had changed in the intervening years was the end of the Cold War and the rise—in number and relative strength—of powers seeking to revise borders and other aspects of the international system. Today, power is even more diffuse on the global stage, and potential challengers to the international system and to U.S. national interests are more numerous. Following the pattern of the Clinton impeachment drama, Iran and North Korea have already tested President Donald Trump in his moment of greatest political vulnerability, and it seems likely that China pressed its advantage in its recent trade deal with the United States, the details of which have been kept secret.

Trump, for his part, has eagerly sought foreign policy wins during his impeachment crisis just as Nixon and Clinton did before him, except that his administration never accepted the principle of a wall between foreign policy and domestic politics in the first place. (Evidence that Trump bent U.S. policy toward Ukraine to serve his own private interests, after all, forms the basis of his current impeachment trial.) Instead of resisting the temptation to play politics with the national interest, Trump has collapsed foreign policy and domestic politics into a single, self-serving enterprise. As a result, the perversion of U.S. foreign policy that many feared during the last two impeachment crises has been the norm throughout this presidency.

THE KISSINGER REGENCY

During the Nixon impeachment, Kissinger assumed an extraordinary degree of responsibility for U.S. foreign policy, especially where his and Nixon’s shared vision aligned with that of the rest of the president’s national security team. Increasingly distracted by the fight to save his presidency, Nixon entrusted day-to-day management of foreign affairs almost entirely to his secretary of state. Still, like the two presidents who would face impeachment inquiries after him, he made periodic forays into foreign policy where it suited his domestic political needs.

Outside the White House, Washington, D.C., August 1974Don Hogan Charles / The New York Times / Redux

In 1973, Kissinger became the master of the nation’s traditional centers of foreign-policy making and implementation.

But Kissinger began to accrue greater control over foreign affairs even before the start of the impeachment crisis. According to Kissinger, Nixon started losing his capacity to focus on foreign policy in the spring of 1973, when the Watergate investigations led to the resignation of his top domestic adviser, John Ehrlichman, and his iron-fisted chief of staff, H. R. Haldeman.The first area the president relinquished was arms control policy toward the Soviets. “[I]n the wake of the resignations of Haldeman and Ehrlichman, he explicitly told me (on May 1) to follow my own judgment in choosing among options,” Kissinger recalled in his memoirs. From that point on, Nixon’s attention span for foreign policy got weaker and weaker. “He would sign memoranda or accept my recommendations almost absentmindedly now, without any of the intensive underlining and marginal comments that in the first term had indicated he had read my papers with care,” Kissinger recalled. “Increasingly, he went through the motions of governing.”

In September 1973, Nixon formalized Kissinger’s unprecedented role in U.S. foreign policy by appointing him secretary of state in addition to national security adviser. In one fell swoop, Kissinger became the master of the nation’s traditional centers of foreign-policy making and implementation—the cockpit for the powerful “Nixoniger” secret diplomacy. Kissinger’s mantra throughout this period was, “Our job is to demonstrate that the foreign policy of the United States continues forcefully, competently,” even during a domestic political crisis. And because the president shared this goal, U.S. foreign policy largely carried on as before under the secretary of state’s leadership. Kissinger would not have attained this level of power if not for Watergate and the all-consuming crisis that it created for his boss. “One of the more cruel torments of Nixon’s Watergate purgatory,” Kissinger noted a decade later, “was my emergence as the preeminent figure in foreign policy.”

Nixon at a banquet in Hangzhou, China, February 1972Handout / Reuters

But the specter of impeachment threatened Nixon’s authority, and Kissinger’s by extension. To retain mastery of the situation, the secretary of state needed to maintain the impression, at home and abroad, that the president remained committed to a worldwide “structure of peace,” or détente, as Nixon’s signature policy of easing tensions between the superpowers was known. The president’s 1972 visits to Beijing and Moscow had ended a 22-year U.S. effort to isolate the People’s Republic of China, and led to the first Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty between the United States and the Soviet Union, as well as other confidence-building measures. A peace accord with Hanoi in January 1973 had also taken Vietnam, the most destabilizing Cold War regional conflict, largely off the table. But the United States hadn’t given up on its South Vietnamese ally, and it sought to expand its new relationship with China and move toward a second nuclear arms control agreement with Russia. In other words, détente was still a work in progress, and Kissinger’s authority over foreign policy depended on its advancement.

“NO FUNCTIONAL PRESIDENT, IN THEIR EYES”

The fate of détente seemed to hang in the balance on the night of October 24, 1973, when Kissinger assembled the crisis subset of the National Security Council 30 minutes after getting off the phone with the president’s chief of staff. In addition to Haig, Secretary of Defense James Schlesinger, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Admiral Thomas Moorer, and CIA director William Colby all gathered in the Situation Room while the president slept. Both Kissinger and Haig believed that the Soviets were prepared to sacrifice détente, because, as Kissinger put it, “We have no functional president, in their eyes.” The other men present didn’t disagree. As Schlesinger later recalled, “[W]e were concerned, because of the domestic situation, that the publicity and the uproar associated with the Saturday Night Massacre and then the calls for Nixon’s impeachment might persuade the Russians that we were incapable of reacting to what we regarded as Brezhnev’s threat.”

There were other reasons for Nixon’s national security team to worry. Recently declassified documents reveal that a Soviet ship that the CIA thought might be carrying nuclear weapons was approaching Egypt that night, and that the Soviets had abruptly shut down their airlift operation to resupply the Egyptian army, potentially freeing up those planes to carry troops. By midnight, the principals had decided to institute a DEFCON III alert, the highest U.S. strategic alert status since the Cuban missile crisis, and to move two aircraft carriers closer to the western part of the Soviet Union. “I think it was Henry’s [Kissinger] idea,” Schlesinger later recalled. “[R]aising the DEFCON level of the forces was our way of conveying the message, ‘We are quite capable of reacting; don’t you dare do anything.’”

Nixon was never in the room for what was ultimately a five-hour meeting. Schlesinger later recalled Haig going back and forth between the Situation Room and the White House residence, saying, “ ‘The president has agreed to this’ or ‘The president has not agreed to this.’ ” Regardless of what, if anything, Nixon agreed to that night, Kissinger and his team didn’t think a presidential decision was required. Brent Scowcroft, who was then Kissinger’s deputy on the National Security Council, later described the alert as an “administrative” decision.

The Soviets took several steps to reassure the embattled U.S. president.

The Soviets picked up the alert early on October 25, but their response wasn’t what Kissinger and the other principals expected. Soviet documents and memoirs that became available after the end of the Cold War suggest that Moscow wasn’t scheming to veer off the path of détente after all. Rather, Brezhnev and some others in the Soviet Politburo really were panicked about the survival of the Egyptian regime. Brezhnev, who had dictated his letter to Nixon from his hunting lodge, rushed back to Moscow for meetings in the Kremlin after the U.S. alert was detected. If the Soviets had intended to intervene militarily in Egypt, Brezhnev would likely have been with the Politburo on October 24. Moreover, the Soviets didn’t respond to the U.S. alert with one of their own but, rather, took steps to reassure the embattled U.S. president.

What Soviet leaders seemed to have gleaned from Watergate was that as Nixon grew weaker, forces inside the United States that opposed détente grew stronger. “The threat of ‘impeachment’ has now become more realistic for Nixon than it was a few months ago,” Yuri Andropov, then the head of the KGB, wrote to Brezhnev on October 29. “One cannot rule out that in this situation the Jewish lobby in the Congress is seriously limiting Nixon’s actions and his desire to implement the agreement” for a cease-fire in the Middle East.

Meir and Nixon in the White House, Washington, D.C., September 1970
Meir and Nixon in the White House, Washington, D.C., September 1970Walter Bennett / Camera Press / Re​dux

Although Moscow’s intelligence analysis was hobbled by anti-Semitism and knee-jerk conspiracy thinking, the Soviets had good reason to think that détente faced serious domestic challenges. Since the fall of 1972, Senator Henry Jackson, a Democrat from Washington, had sought to link further U.S.-Soviet economic relations, a key element of détente supported by both the Kremlin and the White House, to the easing of restrictions on Jewish emigration from the Soviet Union. In the spring of 1973, Kissinger had helped the Soviets craft a formal statement to Congress aimed at bypassing Jackson’s efforts and enabling the Soviet Union to gain most-favored nation trade status. The attempt had failed, but as a result Moscow knew where the Nixon White House stood on the issue.

On November 10, in the immediate aftermath of the Yom Kippur War, Brezhnev sent a private note to Nixon wishing him “energy and success in overcoming all sorts of complexities, the causes of which are not so easy to understand at a distance… [O]ur determination to proceed further along the path of decisive improvement in the Soviet-American relations has not diminished as a result of the events in the Middle East.” Nixon, who was touched by the message from Moscow, invited Ambassador Dobrynin to meet with him privately. And in mid-December 1973, he assured the Soviets through Dobrynin that he was still dedicated to détente. Then, as if to confirm the KGB’s analysis of the situation, the president made a point of blaming Israel and the American Jewish community for opposing any improvement in U.S.-Soviet relations.

There were other countries that favored détente as well, especially in the Middle East, where the extension of Nixon’s “structure of peace” had the potential to ease regional tensions. Arab countries hoped a more engaged U.S. administration would help them gain concessions from Israel, while Israel hoped the United States would make a stronger commitment to peace on Israel’s borders, and weaken Soviet influence in the region. If the wounding of Nixon’s presidency had any effect in the region, it was to make Egyptian President Anwar Sadat eager to pressure his fellow Arab leaders, most notably Hafez al-Assad of Syria, to take advantage of U.S. mediation with Israel before Nixon, and presumably Kissinger, were swept from the scene. Sadat became Kissinger’s essential partner in exploiting the effects of the Yom Kippur War, which Sadat had started, to de-escalate the Arab-Israeli and inter-Arab conflict.

Kissinger meets the Israeli Minister of Foreign Relations in Tel Aviv, October 1973
Kissinger meets the Israeli Minister of Foreign Relations in Tel Aviv, October 1973Israel Sun-Rea / Redux

With the president’s general approval, Kissinger undertook the most strenuous negotiations by any American secretary of state up to that point, logging days away from Washington, D.C., first to secure agreements to separate the Israeli and Arab armies on both the Egyptian and Syrian fronts and then in pursuit of a framework for negotiations—indirect at this point—between Cairo, Damascus, and Israel. As Harold Saunders, a key staffer on Middle East policy, later recalled, Kissinger’s “shuttle diplomacy” largely proceeded outside of the shadow of the impeachment drama. “[S]trangely I don’t think we could have achieved more than we did… [Watergate] didn’t have that much effect.”

Initially, Nixon left Kissinger’s shuttle diplomacy alone for the most part. On the Middle East issue, as with other issues where the Pentagon and the State Department were aligned, the Kissinger Regency was relatively uncontroversial. Kissinger’s results were also impressive. In January 1974, with the United States acting as intermediary and prod, Israel and Egypt reached a disengagement agreement. So impressed were the Saudis by Kissinger’s efforts that they made clear to the United States that if a similar achievement could be achieved between Syria and Israel, OPEC would lift the oil embargo it had imposed on countries seen as supportive of Israel during the Yom Kippur War. The United States agreed, but made clear that the embargo had to be lifted first, and not held hostage to talks in Damascus. In March 1974, the Saudis lifted the embargo and Kissinger soon began what would be 26 meetings with Assad over 35 days.

But as the impeachment crisis deepened, the president made clear that there were limits to how much credit he was willing to let Kissinger take for foreign policy successes. When Nixon sensed his presidency was in mortal danger in the spring of 1974, after he released edited transcripts of his secret Oval Office recordings under subpoena from the House Judiciary Committee, he tried to reassert superficial command over Kissinger’s Middle East diplomacy. He had no substantive suggestions to make; Kissinger’s diplomacy was going very well. But Nixon felt that he desperately needed some good public relations, and began to view the emerging Israeli-Syrian disengagement agreement as necessary for his political survival. As a result, he began to pressure Kissinger to broker an agreement as quickly as possible.

Members of the House Judiciary Committee on the first day of the Nixon impeachment hearings, May 1974Mike Lien / The New York Times / R​edux

On May 9, the same day that House Minority Leader John Rhodes, a Republican from Arizona, suggested that Nixon should consider resigning, Kissinger sent a note to his deputy, Scowcroft, to reassure Haig that Nixon would get public credit for the emerging deal with Syria. “Please tell Haig that I will use every available opportunity to mention the President’s role in the current negotiations,” Kissinger wrote, presumably in response to a message from the president’s chief of staff. “I will continue to stress the importance of his involvement in our overall effort to seek a lasting peace,” he added. But the White House wanted more than that. The president felt he needed a splashy trip to distract from his troubles at home, and to underscore that just as only Nixon could go to China, only Nixon could go to Damascus.

A damaged minaret near the town of Quneitra in the G​olan Heights, Syria, May ​2005
A damaged minaret near the town of Quneitra in the G​olan Heights, Syria, May ​2005Ed Kashi / VII / Redux

When Kissinger reported to Nixon on May 14 that an agreement between Israel and Syria seemed out of reach in the short term because Israel refused to make any more compromises around Quneitra, Nixon blew up. The president’s support for Israel had always been cold and strategic. An anti-Semite who doubted the enormity of the Holocaust, Nixon was now convinced that Israeli obstinacy threatened his political future. In the middle of the night on May 15, as Kissinger later recalled, the president “phoned Scowcroft twice to order him to cut off all aid to Israel unless it changed its position by the next morning.” Nixon was insistent, but he didn’t tell Scowcroft what exactly he wanted Israel’s new position on Quneitra to be.

Nixon’s support for Israel had always been cold and strategic.

As Nixon fumed about the lack of progress toward a deal, the situation in the region took a dramatic turn for the worse. Early in the morning of May 15, a group of terrorists from the Syrian-backed Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine killed five people and took four teachers and about 90 children hostage in a school in the northern Israeli town of Ma’alot. In the midst of this new crisis, Kissinger was very concerned about the possible effect of the president’s ultimatum. “With respect to your recent message on cutting off Israel’s aid,” he wrote to Nixon from Jerusalem, “I must tell you as strongly as I can that such a course would be disastrous in terms of the immediate negotiation, the long-term evolution and the U.S. position in the Middle East.”

Yet somehow Kissinger managed to simultaneously calm the irrational U.S. president and coax additional concessions from the Israelis. Despite the Churchillian sweep of his three-volume memoirs, Kissinger’s account of how he ultimately persuaded Israel to pull far enough back from Quneitra to satisfy the Syrians seems oddly incomplete, and State Department historians compiling the Foreign Relations of the United States volume for those negotiations could find no official record of the secretary of state’s meeting with Israel’s negotiating team or his private meetings with Meir and the Israeli ambassador to the United States on May 15.

Meir meets with Israeli soldiers in the Golan Heights, 1973
Meir meets with Israeli soldiers in the Golan Heights, 1973Stringer / Reuters

Perhaps Kissinger, who knew for whom he was working, warned Meir that his anti-Semitic boss was losing it. The Israelis’ finely honed political antennae in Washington, D.C., had certainly picked up Nixon’s distress. It is also possible that Meir, who had already decided to step down and was affected by the horrific events in Ma’alot, didn’t need much of a push to make another concession for peace at the end of her long political career. Subsequent events suggest that an implicit deal may have been part of the equation as well: at the bitter end of Nixon’s presidency in August, the Israelis would deliver a major request for weapons. Kissinger may have signaled in mid-May that in return for help with Syria, the United States would look more favorably on additional military support. In any case, Israel did Nixon a favor and agreed to a compromise on Quneitra drafted by Kissinger. And, even more surprising, Syria agreed to it as well on May 18, with only a slight modification related to the placement of Israeli arms. One cannot be certain of the reason for Syria’s agreement, but it seems likely that Assad recognized that the Americans had got him a win and that further intransigence might cause him to lose the peace.

A few days later, a much calmer President Nixon sent Kissinger a private message: “I believe we should follow up this development with a trip to the Middle East at the earliest possible time. We will thereby be able to seal in concrete those new relationships which are essential if we are to be successful in building a permanent structure of peace in the area.”

Nixon and Assad, both suited at the back right, meet in Assad’s family home in Syria, June 1974Camera Press / Redux

Two weeks after Israel and Syria formalized their agreement on May 31, Nixon took his victory lap in the Middle East, becoming the first sitting U.S. president to visit Israel and Syria, and only the second to visit Egypt. Sadat arranged a remarkable visit for Nixon, with millions cheering him in Cairo and Egypt’s state-controlled press extolling his “peace visit.” Nixon tested his stamina on the trip and arguably risked his life. On his way to the Middle East, his doctor urged him to stay off his feet as much as possible. His left leg was enlarged with phlebitis, and although “the greatest danger had already passed,” according to Nixon’s memoirs, the condition was known to cause fatal blood clots. Despite the doctor’s warning, Nixon stood for hours next to Sadat, first in a motorcade through Cairo and then on an open train car to the port city of Alexandria, holding on with his right hand while waving with his left.

THE REAL ENEMIES OF DÉTENTE

The Kissinger Regency was not as successful in areas, at home or abroad, where the policy of détente was not as broadly supported. Curiously, the most robust challenge to Nixon’s “structure of peace” didn’t come from a communist power. Soviet leaders resisted the idea that the scandal could bring down the U.S. president, and Brezhnev himself didn’t want to see Nixon go. Similarly, the Chinese did nothing to complicate Nixon’s personal political fight. A month after Nixon left office, Richard Solomon, a senior staffer on the National Security Council, observed that the Chinese “have shown a remarkable degree of loyalty and personal warmth to Mr. Nixon.”

Rather, as the Soviets had surmised, the real pressure on détente came from inside the United States. The collapse of Nixon’s presidency accelerated centrifugal forces in the Republican Party, where détente had already caused a rift. It also emboldened hawkish Democrats and the Pentagon to seek a tougher approach to arms control.

The signal achievement of Nixon’s détente policy had been the conclusion of the first Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty, known as SALT I, in 1972. The purpose of the treaty was to avoid an expensive and dangerous arms race by freezing in place a status quo acceptable to both sides. But by 1974, advances in technology had reduced the effectiveness of key SALT I restrictions. The Nixon administration was pursuing a second round of talks that it hoped would yield a new treaty—SALT II. But it also had a new defense secretary, Schlesinger, who had not been in the cabinet during the earlier SALT negotiations and was skeptical of both détente and Nixon’s judgment in the throes of an impeachment crisis.

Soviet leaders resisted the idea that the scandal could bring down the U.S. president.

In June 1974, facing the prospect of a Nixon-Brezhnev arms control summit in Crimea, Schlesinger and other skeptics of détente in the administration took steps to prevent Nixon and Kissinger from rushing into a bad SALT II agreement. On June 4, Schlesinger wrote to Jackson, the nation’s most prominent critic of détente, implying that he preferred the senator’s approach to arms control over that of the administration. At an NSC meeting two weeks later, Schlesinger recommended, and Moorer endorsed, a negotiating position on arms limitation that Nixon knew the Soviets would reject out of hand. “The NSC meeting was a real shocker,” Nixon dictated to his diary, “insofar as the Chiefs, and particularly of Schlesinger, was concerned.”

White House aides unload transcripts of Nixon's Watergate conversations in Washington, D.C., April 1974
White House aides unload transcripts of Nixon's Watergate conversations in Washington, D.C., April 1974The New York Times / Redux

The June summit did produce a limited underground nuclear test ban and a new limitation on anti-ballistic missile systems. But by that point, no foreign policy achievement, however dramatic, could have changed the conversation in Washington as Nixon’s presidency careened toward collapse. On July 24, 1974, the Supreme Court ruled that the president would have to turn over the secret tapes that the Watergate special prosecutor had requested for the criminal trials of the president’s top lieutenants. One of those tapes, Nixon knew, would reveal his participation in a criminal conspiracy to cover up the Watergate burglary.

DANGEROUS BUSINESS

With the Nixon presidency in its death throes, Kissinger still worried about the Soviets making trouble. But the only countries that actually attempted to exploit the widening power vacuum in Washington during this period were small ones. In mid-July, Greece had overthrown the government of Cyprus, prompting Turkey to invade the Mediterranean island. Nixon was in San Clemente at the time, and he didn’t want to return to Washington, where the House Judiciary Committee was about to debate articles of impeachment. “I can do whatever I could in Washington here,” he told Kissinger. Once again, Kissinger was expected to manage all aspects of the crisis, although Nixon did reassure his secretary of state that if “the Greeks did go to war, then I would come back to Washington.”

The world watched the collapse of the Nixon presidency largely with sadness and surprise—not with a sense of opportunity.

Nixon and Kissinger had previously discussed what to do if Greece retaliated by attacking Turkey in Thrace. Despite the weakened state of Nixon’s presidency, the Department of Defense and the CIA suggested covert action to overthrow the Greek regime. But Kissinger objected: “I don’t like overthrowing governments. I’m not sure the Greek government will last out the week, anyway,” he said at a crisis meeting of the NSC. When the CIA suggested working with the former king instead, Kissinger replied, “That’s dangerous business in the middle of a war. I’ll talk to the President about it.” The Greek government ultimately fell without any U.S. intervention, and the Turks awaited Nixon’s own fall to resume their military operations in Cyprus.

Celebration on the tenth anniversary of the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in Nicosia, Cyprus, September 1984
Celebration on the tenth anniversary of the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in Nicosia, Cyprus, September 1984Ulutuncok / laif / Redux

The Pentagon worried that North Vietnam, too, might be preparing to take advantage of the collapse of the Nixon presidency. In early August, the intelligence community detected chatter that seemed to suggest that three divisions of the North Vietnamese army had gone on alert. It also picked up tactical communications from a reserve division outside Hanoi. On August 6, “A local force unit in Quang Nam Province was instructed to prepare for a ‘general offensive,’ ” intelligence officials reported to the White House. The intelligence officials didn’t expect an offensive against South Vietnam that day, but they believed that “serious communist attacks may be imminent.”

The previous day, August 5, the transcript of the tape revealing Nixon’s involvement early in the Watergate cover-up had been released to the public, and even Republicans were describing it as a “smoking gun.” With Washington expecting Nixon’s resignation at any moment, Schlesinger didn’t call the president about worrying chatter in Vietnam. Instead, he called Kissinger on August 7. “Anything we can do?” Kissinger asked in response to the secretary of defense. There were no troop options, but Schlesinger suggested moving some aircraft carriers closer to Vietnam. He also suggested telling the Soviets and the Chinese what the United States had detected. Kissinger agreed: “I think that’s an excellent idea,” he told Schlesinger. In the twilight of Nixon’s presidency, Kissinger’s agreement was all that the secretary of defense needed to act.

Three Republicans who voted to impeach, 1974George Tames / The New York Times / Redux

Later that same day, at 5:58 PM, the president’s chief of staff called Kissinger. “Henry, could you get to the Oval Office in five or six minutes?” Haig asked. Kissinger wasn’t surprised. The day before, his confidante and former White House aide Rita Hauser had made clear to him that the “smoking gun” transcript effectively meant that Nixon had “pleaded guilty.” Now a Republican delegation from Congress had told the president that impeachment and removal were inevitable, and Kissinger was the first member of the cabinet whom Nixon informed of his intention to announce his resignation the next day.

In the end, with the exceptions of Greece, Turkey, and possibly North Vietnam, the world watched the collapse of the Nixon presidency largely with sadness and surprise, but not with a sense of opportunity. Egypt, Syria, the Soviet Union, and China had, if anything, been helpful to the wounded president, and Israel had actually done him a favor. The peculiarities of Nixon’s partnership with Kissinger, shaped before the impeachment crisis, allowed the foreign policy system to function with a dysfunctional president. Something very different would play out in the nation’s second impeachment crisis as a superpower.


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