FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

AUGUST 2, 1973

AS DELIVERED REMARKS OF DR. HENRY A. KISSINGER
ASSISTANT TO THE PRESIDENT
FOR NATIONAL SECURITY AFFAIRS
INTERNATIONAL PLATFORM ASSOCIATION
SHERATON-PARK HOTEL

8:00 P.M. EDT

DR. KISSINGER: Mr. Roosevelt, Mrs. Longworth, ladies and gentlemen:

I am very grateful for the honor that has been bestowed on me this evening, especially by the hand of Mrs. Longworth, who, it is true, is, if I may say so, one of my girl friends here. At least she was my first date in Washington.

The second night that President Nixon was at the White House, he gave a private dinner, and we were all still very stage struck, and he said, "Don't bring anyone, I have a date for you," and that date was Mrs. Longworth.

At that time, I thought of myself as a very serious professor, and during the course of the evening, Mrs. Longworth said to me, "You will do all right. You don't take yourself too seriously." (Laughter) She was wrong about the second part.

Now, this award represents something of an encouragement at a time when we in Government are not exactly overwhelmed by expressions of approbation. More importantly, the award bears the name of a man, Theodore Roosevelt, whom I have, both as a historian and as a public servant, admired above most others in our Nation's history.

I have already expressed how delighted I have been to be seated next to one of the great ladies of our time, Mrs. Alice Roosevelt Longworth.

Mrs. Longworth, who has brought grace and dignity to two already renowned names in American political history, is one of the handful of people who makes living in Washington a worthwhile and exciting experience.

Last week, while I was preparing my remarks for this evening, I spent some time looking for an appropriate Roosevelt quote. One particularly struck a responsive chord, since I have not too many weeks ago before this returned from the latest of my seemingly unending sessions with my North Vietnamese counterpart, Le Duc Tho.

In 1905, during his mediation of the Russo-Japanese War, President Roosevelt confided to a friend, "Dealing with Senators is at times an excellent training for the temper, but, upon my word, dealing with these peace envoys has been an even tougher job, to be polite and sympathetic and patient in explaining for the hundredth time that something that is perfectly obvious when I really want to give utterance to whoops of rage and jump up and knock their heads together -- well, all I can hope is that self-repression will ultimately be good for my character."

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How often I, like he, was tempted to explode in
"whoops of rage and jump up and knock... heads together."
Most of you ladies and gentlemen think that very profound
things go on in these negotiations, and that the conver-
sation is always at a very elevated level, but I can tell
you about one occasion when my opposite number that I
mentioned before said to me, "Let me speak to you honestly,
frankly, open-heartedly. You are a liar." (Laughter and
applause.)

You are not supposed to applaud that. At any
rate, I can only hope that my character has been improved
by self-repression, though many of my colleagues and all of
my staff would question whether self-repression is my most
distinctive trait.

However, given the temper of the times, I do not
want to seem disrespectful of the Senate. So, let me say
for the record that I have never encountered a member of the
Upper House who has tested my temper. Obviously, one of
two things must have changed since Theodore Roosevelt's
time; either the nature of Senators, or the veracity
and courage of public officials. I will let you choose
which.

In a more serious vein, something that Theodore
Roosevelt once said contains the essence of the idea I
would like to place before you this evening. In 1899,
he said in a speech in Chicago: "Far better it is to dare
mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though
checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor
spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they
live in the gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat."

That statement, it seems to me, epitomizes the
essence and the strength of this Nation. In 1893, the great
historian Turner wrote an essay about the significance of
the frontier in American history. He argued that the
disappearance of the frontier would have a profound effect
upon the American mentality. He was premature.

The frontier disappeared, in the physical sense,
in Theodore Roosevelt's lifetime, but its psychology
has remained. The American usage of the term "frontier" is
in itself interesting. In Europe, frontier has always
indicated something permanent and sacrosanct. In America
it connoted something constantly shifting.

In Europe the frontier repelled; in America it
beckoned. In Europe the frontier was a physical state; in
America it was an emotional commitment. It implied a belief
that greatness is an idea before it can become a reality,
that man fulfills himself by striving.

This experience of a common challenge was one
of the reasons why we never directed the social, economic
and political barriers that afflicted so many other
nations with permanent and irreconcilable internal division.

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Our experience led us to look upon ourselves and
what we did as having universal meaning, a relevance that
extended beyond national boundaries to encompass the well
being of all mankind. America was not itself unless it
had a meaning beyond itself.

This is why Americans have always seen their
role in the world as the outward manifestation of an inward
state of grace, if I may use an ecclesiastical term.
Foreign policy was not the exercise of one man, nor the
reflection of one group, or one party. It was the
expression of the collective spirit and the common
aspirations of the entire Nation.

It is in that context -- the belief that
foreign policy is, and must be, the expression of a national
and not a partisan purpose -- that I have accepted this
award tonight.

What is so striking as we look back at the America
of Theodore Roosevelt is the feeling of self-confidence, the
sense of optimism, we displayed as we went about our
business, foreign and domestic. Both self-confidence and
optimism are far less in evidence today. The consensus
that sustained our international participation is in danger
of being exhausted, and it must be restored.

A series of tragic events over the past decade has
contributed to this sense of uncertainty. A young, dynamic
and popular President assassinated; his brother and a great
civil rights leader, murdered; Lyndon Johnson returned to
office by an overwhelming majority, only to see that vast
majority steadily eroded; ever greater involvement in a war
which we seemed for too long unable to win or to end, and
the present ordeal of the whole Nation is too obvious to
require commentary.

The impact of this decade of tragedy has been
profound. The once apparently inexhaustible reservoir of
faith in our ability to do, and of confidence that the future
would be better than the past, has been seriously taxed.

Yet, the future will not judge us by the magnitude
of these trials, only by the adequacy of the response. If
history teaches nothing else, it makes clear that no great
nation can afford to pass by the moment when, in Theodore
Roosevelt's words, "mighty things must be dared." Once
the opportunity is past, no rationalization or self-
justification will bring it back.

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The United States, in my view, faces such an historic moment. It exists for us as a people, not as partisans of any particular cause. The consequences of failure to grasp it will be borne not by this Administration, but by its successors in the decades to come, not by our contemporaries but by future generations.

Over the past four years major changes have been registered in this nation's international relationships.

- We have ended the war in Southeast Asia. We now seek to create conditions of stability to replace the bloodshed and hatred which for over a generation have torn Indochina.

- We are building a new relationship with an old adversary -- the People's Republic of China. The hostility of two decades has been eased, normal relations are approaching, and for the first time since the end of World War II all great nations have become full participants in the international system.

- We have worked persistently to resolve by negotiation many of the political issues which have made our relationship with the Soviet Union contentious, and which for so long threatened world peace. The very process of negotiation, over a wide range of issues, has created the possibility of a strong and lasting mutual interest in peace and cooperation.

- We are embarked upon reinvigorating traditional friendships with our closest friends and allies in the Atlantic Community and with Japan. It is a journey which we hope will end not simply in a repetition of familiar liturgies but in a new recognition that what unites a community of free nations far transcends the secondary issues that divide us.

We found a world so accustomed to the Cold War that even the most routine business of peaceful relations among nations was carried on in the shadow of global confrontation. Fundamental problems persist; but they no longer dominate the conduct of all international affairs. The history of the post-war period has been a never-ending effort to maintain peace through crisis management. The peace we envisage would, instead, be sustained by a growing realization on the part of all nations that they have a stake in stability and that stability is ensured by acting from a sense of justice and with moderation. The world is beginning to sense that its purposes need not be the captive of its fears; that they can be shaped by its hopes and dreams.

But these prospects are only beginnings; they are not yet accomplished facts. Whether the shoots that have been planted will mature will depend in large measure upon how we conduct ourselves as a nation over the course of the next decade. And what we are 10 years hence depends upon what we do today, next week, and in the months that follow.

Our influence for good or ill will be measured by the world's judgment of our constancy and self-confidence. Our foreign policy will mean little if other nations see our actions as sporadic initiatives of a small group reflecting no

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coherent national purpose or consensus. No foreign policy -- no matter how ingenious -- has any chance of success if it is born in the minds of a few and carried in the hearts of none.

Foreign policy must not become an alibi or a distrac-
tion from domestic ill. But equally, domestic problems must
not be used as an excuse for abandoning our international
responsibilities. There can be no moratorium in the quest
for world peace. And as we pursue that quest, we will need
to draw upon the country's best minds, no matter what their
political persuasion -- not on a bipartisan but on a non-
partisan basis. Especially at this moment of necessary self-
examination, it is essential that we also reaffirm the basis
of our national unity, for the spirit and vitality that Teddy
Roosevelt represented still run deep in America.

As someone who came to this country as a refugee
from totalitarianism, I have a special feeling for what
America can mean to the world, and how a withdrawal of
America from the world would deprive mankind of hope and
purpose. This is why I hope deeply that we will recapture
the spirit that Theodore Roosevelt so well represented, and
that once more a generation of Americans will be prepared to
"enjoy and suffer much" as they strive mightily on frontiers
that are set by our common purposes.

Thank you.

END

(AT 8:17 P.M. EDT)

FOR RELEASE UPON DELIVERY

August 2, 1973

REMARKS OF DR. HENRY A. KISSINGER
AT THE
INTERNATIONAL PLATFORM ASSOCIATION
SHERATON PARK HOTEL

Mrs. Longworth, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Roosevelt, ladies and gentlemen.

I am deeply grateful for the honor you have bestowed upon me this evening. It represents something of an encouragement at a time when we in Government are not exactly overwhelmed by expressions of approbation. More importantly, the award bears the name of a man -- Theodore Roosevelt -- whom I have, both as an historian and public servant, admired above most others in our nation's history.

You have flattered me, as well, by seating me next to one of the great ladies of our time, Mrs. Alice Roosevelt Longworth. Mrs. Longworth, who has brought grace and dignity to two already renowned names in American political history, is one of that handful of people who makes living in Washington a worthwhile experience. Her presence here adds luster to the occasion and does honor to us all.

Last week, while I was preparing my remarks for this evening, I spent some time looking for an appropriate Roosevelt quote. One particularly struck a responsive chord, since I had not too many weeks before returned from the latest of my seemingly unending sessions with Le Duc Tho. In 1905, during his mediation of the Russo-Japanese War, the President confided to a friend:

> "Dealing with senators is at times excellent training for the temper, but upon my word dealing with these peace envoys has been an even tougher job. To be polite and sympathetic and patient in explaining for the hundredth time something perfectly obvious, when I really want to give utterance to whoops of rage and jump up and knock their heads together -- well, all I can hope is that the self-repression will be ultimately good for my character."

When I read that passage I felt closer to Teddy Roosevelt than ever before. How often I, like he, was tempted to explode in "whoops of rage and jump up and knock... heads together." I can only hope that my character, too, has been improved by self-repression -- though many of my colleagues would question whether self-repression is my most distinctive trait.

However, given the temper of the times, I do not want to seem disrespectful of the Senate. So let me say for the record that I have never encountered a member of the Upper House who has tested my temper. So one of two things must have changed since Teddy Roosevelt's time; either the nature of Senators or the veracity and courage of public officials. I will let you choose which.

In a more serious vein, something that Theodore Roosevelt once said contains the essence of the idea I would like to place before you this evening. In an 1899 speech in Chicago he said:

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-2-

That statement epitomizes the essence and strength of this nation. In 1893 the great historian Turner wrote an essay about the significance of the frontier in American history. He argued that the disappearance of the frontier would have a profound effect on the American mentality. He was premature. To be sure, the frontier disappeared, in the physical sense, in Teddy Roosevelt's lifetime. But its psychology has remained. The term "frontier" is, in itself, interesting. In Europe, frontier has always indicated something permanent and sacrosanct -- in effect, a barrier. In America it connoted something constantly shifting. In Europe the frontier repelled; in America it beckoned. In Europe the frontier was a physical state; in America it was an emotional commitment -- it implied a belief that greatness is an idea before it can become a reality; that man fulfills himself by striving. This experience of a common challenge was one of the reasons why we never erected the social, economic, and political barriers that afflicted so many other nations with permanent and irreconcilable internal division.

Our experience led us to look upon ourselves and what we did as a nation as having universal meaning -- a relevance that extended beyond national boundaries to encompass the well-being of all mankind. America was not itself unless it had a meaning beyond itself. This is why Americans have always seen their role in the world as the outward manifestation, if I may use an ecclesiastical term, of an inward state of grace. Foreign policy was not the esoteric exercise of one man nor the reflection of one group or one party; it was an expression of the collective spirit and common aspirations of the entire nation.

It is in that context -- the belief that foreign policy is, and must be, the expression of a national and not a partisan purpose -- that I gratefully accept this award tonight.

What is so striking as we look back at the America of Theodore Roosevelt's time is the feeling of self-confidence, the sense of optimism, we displayed as we went about our business, foreign and domestic. Both self-confidence and optimism are far less in evidence today. The consensus that sustained our international participation is in danger of being exhausted. It must be restored.

A series of tragic events over the past decade has contributed to our current uncertainty. A young, dynamic and popular President assassinated; his brother, and a great civil rights leader murdered; Lyndon Johnson returned to office by an overwhelming majority, only to see that vast majority steadily eroded; ever greater involvement in a war which we seemed for too long unable to win or to end; riots and civil disobedience on a massive scale. And the present ordeal of the whole nation is too obvious to require commentary.

The impact of this decade of tragedy and trauma has been profound. We are tired of turmoil and exhausted by effort. The once apparent reservoir of faith in our ability to do, and of confidence that the future would be better than the past, has been seriously taxed. Yet

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