Jan Faul/Globe Photos

Doug Bruce/Picture Group

The former Secretary of State frankly admits that he tried to exploit reporters to achieve policy goals—and he suggests how TV news could do a better job

By Neil Hickey

When President Richard Nixon returned to the U.S. from his famous visit to China in 1972 (along with the hundreds of TV newsmen, technicians and print reporters who had accompanied him), Henry Kissinger—then the President's National Security Adviser—promptly made a round of telephone calls to prominent Republicans to brief them about the trip. One of those, Gov. Ronald Reagan of California, expressed to Kissinger the view that the China visit had been a great television "pilot" and ought to be made into a series.

Eleven years later, Henry Kissinger—lecturer, consultant, memoirist, private citizen, television commentator—sits in his Manhattan office and smiles at the Reagan remark. Yes, he agrees, the China trip was at once a historic diplomatic

initiative and a colossal, textbook exercise in how to use television as a powerful tool of image-building and public relations.

"President Nixon was very conscious of the impact of television," Kissinger says. "He always thought that print journalism was not very important—but that television journalism was." And so when the White House made up the press list for the China trip, television reporters and crews won a disproportionately large share of the space. (Nixon aide H.R. Haldeman "saw no sense in making history if television were not there to broadcast it," Kissinger had written in his memoirs.) The arrival in Peking was carefully timed to occur at 11:30 on Monday morning so that it would appear live, via satellite, on American TV screens in prime time in four U.S. time zones on Sunday night—the highest viewing night of the week. "We stayed a night in Guam en route to make sure it would happen that way," Kissinger remembers.

The former Secretary of State leans back in his chair under the portrait of a red-

2

HENRY KISSINGER AND TV

‘DID I
SOMETIMES
USE THE
PRESS?
YES’

Doug Bruce/Picture Group

robed mandarin Chinese figure. The fa-
miliar wavy black hair is flecked with gray
now, and he wears the diplomat's oblig-
atory dark suit—an echo of his momen-
tous, highly visible and (at times) contro-
versial career as a public official that
ended with President Gerald Ford's de-
feat in 1976. Perhaps the most momen-
tous achievement of that career was help-
ing Nixon restore U.S. ties with the Peo-
ple's Republic of China. "Remember that
both Nixon and the Chinese had a com-
mon interest here. The Chinese wanted
to reestablish themselves as an impres-
sive political entity. Nixon wanted to be
seen as the originator of a major foreign-
policy initiative. And so the Chinese co-
operated enthusiastically with the White
House efforts."

You mean the Chinese were "using"
American television just as our own lead-
ers were?

"Absolutely. And they were very so-
phisticated about it."

Henry Kissinger himself, among public
officials of recent times, is credited with
being perhaps the most sophisticated and

deft handler (and indeed "user") of the
media—a distinction he does not quickly
disavow. "There is absolutely no doubt
that when an official deals with the press
he is trying to 'use' the press," Kissinger
says. "And there is no doubt that when a
reporter deals with an official, he is trying
to 'use' the official. That has to be faced
from the beginning. An official is very
unwise—in addition to being morally
wrong—if he deliberately misleads the
press. But the press *must* understand that
the official is there not to please *them*,
but to achieve his objective. Did I some-
times use the press? Yes." In the course
of delicate negotiations, for example, his
statements to the media sometimes were
"consciously designed to evoke a reac-
tion" in the opposing party.

So successful was Kissinger, not only
in tactically using the media but in form-
ing useful relationships with individual
members of the Washington press, that
Nixon's inner circle of advisers grew to
resent and envy him for it. "What they
envied is something that was as available
to them as it was to me. I had never →

TV GUIDE APRIL 2, 1983

3

continued

had any dealings with the press before I
came to Washington. I had no idea of the
incestuous relationship that develops be-
tween men of power in Washington and
the press—between officials and journal-
ists whom they meet socially and yet with
whom they are in a partly cooperative
and partly antagonistic relationship."

It all started, says Kissinger, when the
President asked him to give background
briefings to groups of reporters every three
or four weeks. Those group briefings inev-
itably turned into individual briefings, he
recalls, and begat a broad personal ac-
quaintanceship with Washington report-
ers. "But I had no conscious strategy of
how to handle the press. I liked most of
the journalists I met. I liked them as peo-
ple, and they probably felt that I respect-
ed their efforts. Much of the Nixon White
House, however, was antagonistic toward
the press. Unavailable to them. Dealt with
them from a posture of hostility. But they
all could have done what I did. I had no
special secret."

One venerable technique of "using" the
media is the leaking of private information
to selected newsmen. In the Nixon Admin-
istration, there were three kinds of leaks,
says Kissinger: leaks by an official trying
to prove how important he was; leaks by
people trying to push policy in a partic-
ular direction; and leaks, during the Viet-
nam War, by people "trying to undermine
the war effort." There is no doubt, he
claims, "that when you are in office you
exaggerate the significance of these in-
ternal maneuverings. They outrage you
beyond what the normal person can grasp.
Today, a lot of that looks ridiculous to
me, because one was reacting to the bad
intentions of the person doing the leak-
ing."

Some of the leaks, though, were very
serious indeed, Kissinger is persuaded.
"In the Nixon Administration, we had near
civil-war conditions on Vietnam. We had
550,000 men in that country, and it was
a very painful process for us to try to
extricate them under conditions that did
not lead to a total collapse." America
needed to convey the impression that it

would not yield beyond a certain point in
the negotiations, but constant leaking to
the media of fallback positions "under-
mined our negotiating flexibility."

When Nixon privately was considering
elevating Kissinger from National Secu-
rity Adviser to Secretary of State, some-
body leaked that fact to Dan Rather, who
reported it on the *CBS Evening News*.
The leak "was a political maneuver," Kis-
singer explains, "and a rather interesting
example of how these things work in
Washington." Nixon had never discussed
with him the prospect of his becoming
Secretary of State. So Kissinger assumed
that the leak had come either from an ally
attempting to nail down the Cabinet post
for him, or from an enemy eager to block
the appointment by manipulating Nixon
into a declaration of confidence for the
then Secretary of State, William Rogers.
Kissinger decided to telephone Dan Rath-
er. "I asked him whether the thing had
come from a friend or from a critic, and
he very decently told me it was not from
a friendly source. He didn't tell me, ob-
viously, who the source was." Kissinger
thus learned, in roundabout fashion, that
co-workers in high places were campaign-
ing (unsuccessfully) against him.

Dan Rather, of course, "was not consid-
ered a great friend of the Nixon White
House," Kissinger points out. "But that
never affected me." While Rather was
White House correspondent for CBS, Kis-
singer had "no complaint" about his cov-
erage of matters that related to foreign
policy. During the Carter Administration,
however, Rather did a *60 Minutes* seg-
ment on the price of oil that Kissinger
thought was "extremely unfair." He sees
no point in rehashing that. "I think every
reporter is entitled to make a mistake."

During the period of Kissinger's so-
called shuttle diplomacy in the Middle
East, his plane invariably was well-pop-
ulated with newsmen avid for every scrap
of information about the negotiations. Did
those journalists represent his efforts ac-
curately? "Obviously, I didn't like every
television report that was made. I had an
unusually distinguished group of re- →

4

TV GUIDE APRIL 2, 1983

SPIEGEL Gespräch

Kissinger in seiner New Yorker Wohnung*: Ganz neue Dimension gegenwärtiger Politik

„Wir sind zur Koexistenz verdammt“

Henry Kissinger über Nachrüstung, Jumbo-Abschuß und Sowjetmacht

SPIEGEL: Dr. Kissinger, Sie sind nicht der Präsident, nicht mehr der Außenminister der Vereinigten Staaten, aber Sie sind – wie jedermann sieht – unverändert im Geschäft. Das heißt, Ihre Meinung zu den Dingen, die uns in Deutschland und auch viele Amerikaner beschäftigen, ist wichtig – beispielsweise zur sogenannten Nachrüstung. Da sehen wir, daß die große Mehrheit der christlichen Bischöfe beider Konfessionen in Deutschland und wohl auch in den USA die Pershing 2 nicht will; die Gewerkschaften wollen sie nicht, die Opposition will sie nicht, die Mehrheit der Menschen in der Bundesrepublik Deutschland will sie nicht, kommen aber wird sie. Frage: War es das wert, daß man sich politisch so zerstreitet wegen einer militärisch gar nicht so ungeheuerlich wichtigen, womöglich zweideutigen Errungenschaft?

KISSINGER: Es ist wichtig, sich daran zu erinnern, in welchem politischen Umfeld die ursprüngliche Entscheidung

gefällt wurde. Da stellte sich das Problem keineswegs so, wie Sie es jetzt beschreiben. Eine sozialdemokratische Regierung schlug die Stationierung vor; die CDU stimmte zu. Das letzte, was unsere führenden Politiker im Sinn hatten, war eine Spaltung der deutschen Bevölkerung.

Zur Sache selbst möchte ich eines vorausschicken, worauf ich schon häufiger hingewiesen habe: Das Problem mit der Pershing – und im übrigen mit jedem anderen nuklearen Waffensystem der Nato – besteht darin, daß es keine in sich schlüssige Strategie gibt, mit der unsere Regierungen an die Öffentlichkeit treten können und die von den Menschen auch begriffen wird.

Unsere Strategie ist ein mixtum compositum aus verschiedenen Elementen. Entwickelt wurde sie in den 50er Jahren, und damals machte sie auch Sinn. Aber dann hat man in den 60er und 70er

Jahren hier und da etwas draufgepropft, etwas hinzugefügt, ohne jedoch die ganze Strategie systematisch und folgerichtig weiterzuentwickeln oder auch nur zu Ende zu denken. Das ist der Grund, warum es jetzt Meinungsverschiedenheiten über diese Raketen gibt.

SPIEGEL: Demnach wäre auch der Nato-Doppelbeschluß von 1979 ein nicht zu Ende gedachtes Element einer nicht vorhandenen Strategie des Westens.

KISSINGER: Sehen wir uns doch mal die Entstehungsgeschichte an: Zunächst wies Ihr damaliger Kanzler Schmidt auf das atomare Ungleichgewicht in Europa hin. Da hätte man schon debattieren können, was unter Gleichgewicht zu verstehen ist und ob man neben dem strategischen Gleichgewicht auch noch überall ein regionales Gleichgewicht braucht. Man beschloß jedenfalls, neue Waffen einzuführen, und kombinierte das zu einem Doppelbeschluß, was meines Erachtens ein Fehler war.

* Mit SPIEGEL-Redakteuren Augstein, Lohfeldt.

156

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**SPIEGEL:** Sie meinen, man hätte keine Verhandlungen anbieten sollen?

**KISSINGER:** Doch. Aber wenn man diese Waffen für erforderlich hielt, wäre es wahrscheinlich besser gewesen zu sagen: Wir stellen sie auf, und natürlich sind wir jederzeit bereit, über diese Waffen wie über alle anderen Waffen auch zu verhandeln.

Der Fehler bestand meines Erachtens darin, daß der Eindruck erweckt wurde, man könne bis zu einem bestimmten Stichtag verhandeln und dann – je nach Erfolg oder Mißerfolg der Verhandlungen – über die Stationierung befinden. Dieser künstliche Stichtag ist schuld an der Intensität der gegenwärtigen Auseinandersetzung.

**SPIEGEL:** Nicht nur der Stichtag. Es ist doch die Art der Waffe, die jetzt bei uns aufgestellt werden soll, die Pershing 2, die das Unbehagen, die Diskussion, den öffentlichen Protest und den politischen Streit ausgelöst hat.

**KISSINGER:** Die Diskussion wäre vermutlich auch durch jede andere Waffe ausgelöst worden. In der Debatte um die atomare Rüstung wird die Pershing doch hauptsächlich als Symbol benutzt.

Damit wir uns aber nicht mißverstehen: Wenn die Vereinigten Staaten jetzt auf die Pershing verzichteten, wäre das ein erheblicher politischer Rückschlag für den ganzen Westen. Denn es würde bedeuten, daß es den Sowjets innerhalb von fünf Jahren zum zweitenmal* gelungen wäre, durch Propaganda, durch politischen Druck und durch das Anheizen von Stimmungen – sowie natürlich auch mit Hilfe unabhängig auftretender Strömungen, denn ich sage ja nicht, daß Ihre Bischöfe oder unsere von den Sowjets beeinflußt sind – ohne jegliche Gegenleistung den Verzicht auf ein westliches Waffensystem zu bewirken. Das wäre der erste Schritt zu einem sowjetischen Veto über jede Art von Stationierung, der erste Schritt auch zu einer Art Neutralisierung.

Wenn die Sowjets nun über einen Erstschlag von europäischem Boden aus beunruhigt sind, dann ist das sicher ein Problem, für das es aber eine Lösung gibt. Darüber muß man dann verhandeln und das regeln.

**SPIEGEL:** Das Problem liegt doch tiefer. Früher waren die Staaten der Nato einer Meinung. Es gab eine Philosophie. Jetzt haben wir keine eine Philosophie, sondern zwei, und das ist für uns höchst gefährlich.

**KISSINGER:** Eine europäische und eine amerikanische?

**SPIEGEL:** Ja. Maggie Thatcher und Mitterrand geben doch nicht die wahre Meinung in ihren Ländern wieder. Und in der Bundesrepublik ist die Sache klar, die Mehrheit der Bevölkerung will die Waffen nicht, und eigentlich kommt es ja nur auf die Bundesrepublik an, die Pershings werden ja nirgendwo anders ste-

## Den Kurs bestimmen an Bord des eigenen Bootes –

Wer sicher sein möchte, rechtzeitig zur kommenden Saison mit neuem Boot und kompletter Ausrüstung startklar zu sein, entscheidet sich auf dem internationalen Boots-Fachmarkt Hamburg vom 22. – 30. Oktober. Hamburg präsentiert das weltweite Angebot mit zahlreichen Neuheiten.

# Hamburg
22. – 30. Oktober 1983
Deutsche Boots-Ausstellung International

Hamburg Messe und Congress GmbH
Postfach 30 23 60, D-2000 Hamburg 36

* nach der Neutronenwaffe.

DER SPIEGEL, Nr. 40/1983

157

hen. Und die Cruise Missiles haben noch viel Zeit.

**KISSINGER:** Weil sie noch nicht reif sind zur Stationierung, das ist der einzige Grund.

**SPIEGEL:** Das ist die Pershing im Ernst ja auch noch nicht. Aber die Pershing kommt, das wissen wir jetzt. Die Frage, noch mal gefragt, ist: War das die Sache wert, daß man die inneren Widersprüche der Allianz, die ja da sind, so drastisch bloßlegt?

**KISSINGER:** Wie schon gesagt, als man die Entscheidung traf, konnte man sich diese Frage nicht stellen.

Grundsätzlich hat das Problem zwei Seiten. Wenn man Mittelstreckenwaffen für erforderlich hält, könnten sie vom rein militärischen Standpunkt der USA aus überall stationiert werden, auf See ebenso wie an Land, das ist letztlich ein technisches Problem.

**SPIEGEL:** Eben. Warum also nicht auf See?

**KISSINGER:** Moment, ich komme gleich drauf. Vom rein militärischen Standpunkt der USA aus könnte man sogar argumentieren, warum wir uns nicht stärker auf interkontinentale Waffen oder Flugzeuge verlegen. Das ist die eine Seite. Dann kommt aber die militärisch-politische Überlegung, daß man diese Raketen in Europa haben müsse.

**SPIEGEL:** Cruise Missiles oder Pershings?

**KISSINGER:** Ehrlich gesagt, ich sehe keinen so großen Unterschied zwischen Pershings und Cruise Missiles, denn...

**SPIEGEL:** Die eine braucht sieben Minuten, die andere drei Stunden, das ist ein Unterschied.

**KISSINGER:** Ich glaube, wenn die Cruise Missiles zuerst gekommen wären und danach die Pershings, dann würden wir jetzt dieselbe intensive Agitation gegen die Cruise Missiles erleben, denn rein intellektuell ist es mehr oder weniger dasselbe.

**SPIEGEL:** Das bezweifeln wir.

**KISSINGER:** Lassen Sie mich erst einmal die militärisch-politischen Überlegungen für die Stationierung der Waffen in Europa erläutern, dann komme ich auf diesen Punkt zurück: Wenn die Waffen in Europa stationiert sind, ist es für die Sowjets nahezu unmöglich oder doch zumindest sehr viel schwieriger, einen Angriff nur gegen Europa und nicht zugleich auch gegen die Vereinigten Staaten zu führen. Denn sie können Europa, wenn diese Waffen da sind, nicht angreifen, ohne zugleich auch diese Waffen anzugreifen, und sie können diese Waffen nicht angreifen, ohne zugleich auch unsere strategischen Streitkräfte anzugreifen. So wird die Verteidigung Europas also an die Verteidigung der USA angekoppelt – und das ist die militärisch-politische Begründung für die Stationierung der Raketen in Europa. Es ist Sache der europäischen Politiker, zu

entscheiden, ob das dem entspricht, was sie wollen.

**SPIEGEL:** In Europa denkt man aber eben vielerorts, daß wir im Falle des Falles nicht angekoppelt, sondern abgekoppelt werden, was ja aus amerikanischer Sicht auch sehr logisch wäre. Wie kann man de Gaulle gegen Kennedy recht geben und zugleich sagen, wir würden im Falle des Falles angekoppelt? Wir glauben das einfach nicht.

**KISSINGER:** Nicht einmal der SPIEGEL kann stets hundert Prozent recht haben.

**SPIEGEL:** Das kann niemand. Die Frage bleibt: Muß es denn die Pershing sein, von der sich die Sowjets angesichts der extrem kurzen Flugzeit natürlich besonders bedroht fühlen müssen?

**KISSINGER:** In einer idealen Welt, wenn es sie denn gäbe, hätte man all dies

**KISSINGER:** Ja, zwischen Cruise Missiles und Pershings gibt es einen Unterschied, aber kaum einen zwischen Pershings und Interkontinentalraketen, von denen wir über 1000 schon haben. Und Raketen von U-Booten brauchen noch weniger als 30 Minuten. Sofern die Sowjets also nicht planen, ihre Raketen auf eine bloße Warnung hin zu starten – was sie nicht tun sollten –, dann kann ich Ihnen versichern, daß nach meiner Kenntnis von Entscheidungsabläufen kein großer Unterschied zwischen acht und 30 Minuten besteht. Deshalb sehe ich die Gefahr für die Sowjets nicht, vor allem nicht, wenn man die Zahl der Pershings, wofür ich eintrete, sehr niedrig hält.

**SPIEGEL:** Weniger als die geplanten 108?

**KISSINGER:** Sehr viel weniger.

Protest-Mütter in Mutlangen: „Hin zum ewigen Frieden"

vor fünf oder sechs Jahren gründlich durchdacht und all diese Implikationen vorausgesehen und dann wahrscheinlich beschlossen, daß es vernünftiger sei, mit den Cruise Missiles anzufangen. Es wäre vielleicht weniger kontroverses gewesen.

Aber das Argument mit der Flugzeit der Pershing, daß die Sowjets, wie Sie sagen, sie wegen der acht oder sieben Minuten leichter hinnehmen können als unsere Interkontinentalraketen, ist schon sehr merkwürdig. Der Unterschied zwischen acht Minuten und 30 Minuten sind 22 Minuten...

**SPIEGEL:** Aber der Unterschied zwischen acht Minuten und drei Stunden sind fast drei Stunden, und es kommt sehr wohl darauf an, ob man zum Reagieren drei Stunden Zeit hat, 22 Minuten oder acht Minuten.

**SPIEGEL:** Bleibt aber immer noch das psychologische Moment in der Sojew-Union. Es ist für die Russen ein Unterschied, ob von deutschem Boden aus Amerikaner die sowjetischen Aufmarschgebiete erreichen und demnächst natürlich auch bis Moskau und Leningrad kommen. Dieses psychologische Problem ist durch die Rhetorik der Reagan-Administration arg verschlimmert worden.

**KISSINGER:** In der Anfangsphase hat die Regierung ohne jede Frage eine überzogene Rhetorik benutzt. Ihre Handlungen aber sind sehr viel moderater gewesen, und darauf kommt es doch schließlich an. Zu Anfang stand sie noch zu stark unter dem Einfluß ihrer eigenen Wahlkampfrhetorik und begriff nicht, daß man sowjetischem Druck nur dann Widerstand entgegensetzen kann, wenn man zuvor die Menschen im eigenen

DER SPIEGEL, Nr. 40/1983

159

Land davon überzeugt hat, daß man den Frieden anstrebt. Ich habe aber den Eindruck, daß dies jetzt in den Vereinigten Staaten begriffen wird und daß sich der Präsident in den vergangenen 12 bis 18 Monaten zunehmend in eine Richtung bewegt hat, die sich mit meinen Vorstellungen vereinbaren läßt.

**SPIEGEL:** Das hat er ja im Fall des Jumbo-Abschusses gezeigt, daß man ganz anders handeln kann, als man vorher geredet hat.

**KISSINGER:** ... und sogar anders, als man jetzt, da die Rhetorik doch unverändert hart blieb, erwarten könnte. Aber was er getan hat, war sehr moderat.

**SPIEGEL:** Die Regierung Nixon-Kissinger war sich allerdings bewußt und hat auch immer danach gehandelt, daß zwei

knüpfen, wobei wir uns im Westen immer noch mit intellektuellen – nicht politischen – Problemen auseinandersetzen müssen: Was verstehen wir unter angemessener Stärke? Was verstehen wir unter vernünftiger Rüstungskontrolle?

Andererseits steht die Sowjet-Union vor denselben Problemen, sie muß sich schlüssig werden, was sie tun soll. In diesem Zusammenhang war beim Abschuß des koreanischen Verkehrswelgeuges nicht der Abschuß selbst das Wesentliche – der war meines Erachtens kaum mehr als eine Panne im System –, sondern die anschließende Reaktion der Sowjets, die ich zutiefst beunruhigend finde, weil sie zeigt, wie starr und unbedeglich der Entscheidungsprozeß in der Sowjet-Union ist.

wegs so unfehlbar ist, wie sie es gern darstellen.

**SPIEGEL:** Das hatte sich ja auch schon 1978 gezeigt, beim ersten Fehlflug einer koreanischen Verkehrsmaschine in den sowjetischen Luftraum.

**KISSINGER:** Ja. Jedenfalls war im sowjetischen Hauptquartier wahrscheinlich bald der Teufel los. Und wenn man sagt, sie hätten zweieinhalb Stunden Zeit gehabt, dann vermute ich, daß ein Großteil dieser Zeit damit draufging, den örtlichen Kommandeur zusammenzustauchen, weil er dieses unidentifizierte Flugzeug durchgelassen hat.

**SPIEGEL:** Das klingt sehr überzeugend.

**KISSINGER:** Und nun kommt's: Dieselbe Maschine erscheint über Sachalin, und da hat dann dort möglicherweise jemand entschieden oder sogar Moskau mitgeteilt: Wenn wir das Flugzeug im Blick haben, schießen wir es ab, es sei denn, wir erhalten einen gegenteiligen Befehl. Insoweit mag Moskau also tatsächlich beteiligt gewesen sein. Dann ist es durchaus vorstellbar, daß der Befehlshaber da draußen sich gesagt hat: Mir ist es egal, ob das eine 747, eine 707, eine DC-3 ist. Wenn ich sie abschieße, brauche ich keine Erklärungen abzugeben. Wenn ich sie aber durchlasse, muß ich erklären, was es war, und wer weiß, was dann passiert?

Das Ganze ist ein Verbrechen, ist barbarisch. Wenn ein sowjetisches Verkehrsflugzeug unerlaubt Deutschland oder die Vereinigten Staaten überflöge, würden wir es doch nicht abschießen, auch wenn die Gegend, in die es eingedrungen ist, noch so geheim wäre.

**SPIEGEL:** Gerade wenn es ein Spionageflugzeug wäre, wäre es ja viel besser, es zur Landung zu zwingen.

**KISSINGER:** Natürlich, selbstverständlich. Interessant ist nun, wie sie reagierten, denn das gibt mir doch einige Aufschlüsse über die Natur ihres Systems. Dabei muß man, wenn man sagt, sie müßten sich entschuldigen, zunächst einmal begreifen, wie schwer es einem kommunistischen System fällt, öffentlich die eigene Fehlbarkeit zuzugeben.

**SPIEGEL:** Das fällt jeder Großmacht schwer.

**KISSINGER:** Ja, aber vor allem einer kommunistischen, und ganz besonders den Russen. Denn wenn sie ihre Fehlbarkeit zugeben, müssen sie auch sagen, daß jemand einen Fehler gemacht hat. Aber wer? Wenn sie sagen, das Militär habe den Fehler begangen, dann fragt sich, auf welcher Ebene? War's auf höchster Ebene, beeinflußt das die Positionskämpfe in der Nachfolge- und Erbfolgekrise, mit der sich die Sowjet-Union derzeit auseinanderzusetzen hat.

**SPIEGEL:** Nachfolge für Andropow?

**KISSINGER:** Ja, denn er ist älter als jeder frühere Sowjetführer bei seinem Amtsantritt. Und außerdem hat er eine andere Hausmacht. Jeder seiner Vorgänge

San Diego Union

Mächte, die so groß sind, sich gegenseitig nicht die Flugplätze sperren. Sie waren, nachdem Sie Hanoi bombardiert hatten, in Moskau und haben, gemeinsam mit den Sowjets, SALT 1 unterschrieben.

**KISSINGER:** Wir hatten eben erkannt, daß wir als ideologische und politische Widersacher gleichwohl zur Koexistenz verdammt waren.

**SPIEGEL:** Wird das die jetzige Administration auch begreifen?

**KISSINGER:** Ich glaube, sie hat es begriffen, und die Regierung bewegt sich eindeutig in diese Richtung. Vor zwei, zweieinhalb Jahren hätte ich Ihrer Kritik vermutlich in einigen Punkten vom philosophischen Ansatz her zugestimmt. Aber jetzt verfolgt die Regierung einen Kurs, der versucht, angemessene militärische Stärke nicht nur mit Rüstungskontrolle, sondern mit einem ernsthaften Herantreten an die Sowjet-Union zu ver-

**SPIEGEL:** Ist der Flugzeugzwischenfall nach Ihrer Meinung ein Indiz dafür, daß das Militär selbständig eine Entscheidung getroffen hat, ohne die politische Führung zu informieren – was eingesetzt über die Machtverhältnisse erklären würde –, oder eher darauf zurückzuführen, daß das interne Informationssystem nicht funktioniert?

**KISSINGER:** Well, lassen Sie mich erst mal sagen, was meines Erachtens wahrscheinlich mit dem Flugzeug passierte, und dann erklären, was mich an der Reaktion der Russen beunruhigt. Wie die Maschine vom Kurs abkam, werden wir nie erfahren. Sie flog dann über die Kamtschatka-Halbinsel, ohne Frage ein Gebiet hoher militärischer Geheimhaltungsstufe. Sie haben die Maschine offenbar auf dem Radar gesehen, waren aber nicht in der Lage, sie mit Flugzeugen abzufangen, was mir zumindest zeigt, daß das sowjetische Verteidigungssystem Schwächen hat und keines-

160

ger hatte seine Hausmacht in der Kom-
munistischen Partei, er aber hat seine bei
der Geheimpolizei und im Militär. Des-
halb ist es für ihn oder irgend jemanden
sonst ungemein schwer, wenn nicht gar
unmöglich, die Spitzenmilitärs zu kriti-
sieren.

Wenn aber andererseits die hohen Mi-
litärs ihre Untergebenen kritisieren,
müssen sie, bei der Sturheit sowjetischen
Denkens, darauf gefaßt sein, daß in
Zukunft überhaupt keine Flugzeuge
mehr abgefangen werden. Wenn sie si-
cher sein wollen, daß ihre Befehle auch
ausgeführt werden, müssen diese Befeh-
le so einfach wie möglich sein.

SPIEGEL: Und dann kommt der Ge-
neralstabschef Ogarkow, übrigens ein
Mann, der mit Andropow in Karelien
zusammengearbeitet hat, und gibt eine
Pressekonferenz.

KISSINGER: Ja, das sind genau die
Auswirkungen, von denen ich rede. Das
hat es doch noch nie gegeben, daß der
sowjetische Generalstabschef sich an die
Öffentlichkeit wendet. Bei all meinen
Gesprächen in der Sowjet-Union habe
ich nicht ein einziges Mal den General-
stabschef zu Gesicht bekommen, weder
am Verhandlungstisch noch privat.

Und nun tritt er gleich zweimal auf:
um den Abschuß zu erklären, und dann
noch einmal, um auf Genschers Interpre-
tation zu antworten, die Sowjets seien
möglicherweise bereit, über die briti-
schen und französischen Raketen auch
außerhalb der INF-Verhandlungen (über
eurostrategische Mittelstreckenwaffen)
in Genf zu befinden.

Ebenso interessant ist andererseits,
daß mehrere Mitglieder sowjetischer
Partei-Delegationen während eines Be-
suches in England die ungeschickte Be-
handlung der Angelegenheit durch die
Militärs kritisiert haben. So etwas hat es
meines Wissens auch noch nie gegeben.

Und das dritte Phänomen ist, daß
Andropow verschwunden zu sein
scheint. Es ist doch interessant, daß
keine einzige Erklärung in seinem Na-
men abgegeben wurde*. Ich glaube, er
ist der erste Generalsekretär, der die
Partei nicht in der Hand hat. Das ist eine
seltsame, eine Art bonapartistische
Regierung.

SPIEGEL: Wir hatten ja das Vergnü-
gen, ihm im Kreml zu sehen – und da ist
uns vor allem eines aufgefallen: seine
Erregung darüber, wie die Sowjet-Union
von den Vereinigten Staaten behandelt,
wie sie als „Zentrum des Bösen“ verteu-
felt wird. Er hat gezittert. Er hat kaum
sprechen können. Er hat gesagt: Wie
kann man als große Macht einer anderen
großen Macht so was sagen? Wir sagen
doch auch nicht, daß die Amerikaner
keine Menschen sind, aber sie sagen:
Wir sind Untermenschen. Das muß doch
jeder wissen, daß das nicht geht.

* Das Gespräch mit Kissinger wurde vor der Veröf-
fentlichung der Andropow-Erklärung vom 28. Sep-
tember geführt.

Generalstabschef Ogarkow vor der Presse: „Kaum mehr als eine Panne im System“?

Da wird Rhetorik zur Politik, da darf
man sich nicht wundern, wenn die So-
wjets so reagieren.

KISSINGER: Die Grammatik und die
Philosophie für den Umgang der beiden
Supermächte miteinander muß unbe-
dingt abgeklärt werden, das ist unver-
zichtbar.

Auf unserer Seite bedeutet das, daß
wir uns dem Thema auf einer überpartei-
lichen Ebene nähern müssen, denn es
geht nicht an, daß wir alle vier Jahre von
einem Extrem ins andere fallen: Carter
kommt und erklärt, wir sehen nicht hin-
ter jedem Busch Kommunisten, die
Kommunistenfurcht ist übertrieben.
Reagan kommt und verfällt ins entge-
gengesetzte Extrem. Und am Ende ihrer
Amtszeit sind sie dann ungefähr da, wo
sie meines Erachtens schon am Anfang
hätten sein sollen, nämlich mehr oder
weniger auf der Linie der Regierungen
Nixon und Ford, die ich, natürlich, für
die richtige halte.

SPIEGEL: Natürlich.

KISSINGER: Auf jeden Fall sind zwei
Dinge vonnöten. Zum einen muß man
sich politisch darüber verständigen, wie
weit man mit seiner Sprache gehen darf,
zum zweiten muß es eine Art politische
Übereinkunft darüber geben, wo die
Grenzen für mögliche Aktionen liegen.
Denn wenn jede Supermacht automa-
tisch davon ausgeht, die andere zu unter-
graben, dann laufen wir Gefahr, daß
früher oder später eine Krise außer Kon-
trolle gerät, nicht notwendigerweise in
Europa, wo es auch passieren könnte,
sondern zum Beispiel in Gebieten, die
viel schwerer zu durchschauen sind, wie
etwa der Libanon . . .

SPIEGEL: Aber wer hat denn gesagt,
wir müssen die Russen unterminieren?
Das war doch wohl der Präsident der
Vereinigten Staaten, und der hat es ganz

kürzlich gesagt. Und genau das ist es,
was sie fürchten.

KISSINGER: Die Sowjets machen es auch.

SPIEGEL: Danke schön für das „auch“.

KISSINGER: Sie machen es. Ich mei-
ne, es ist sicher richtig, wenn Sie sagen,
daß unsere Sprache in der Anfangsphase
der Reagan-Präsidentschaft exzessiv war
und daß viele Leute mit ziemlich simplen
Vorstellungen darüber ins Amt kamen,
wie man Außenpolitik macht. Aber bei
unseren Verhandlungen haben wir uns
doch, auch unter Reagan, sehr zurückge-
halten.

Bei den Sowjets ist es umgekehrt. Da
ist vielleicht die Sprache nicht so aggres-
siv gewesen, aber sie haben hunderttau-
send Tonnen Rüstungsgüter in die west-
liche Hemisphäre geschickt, über 80 000
nach Kuba, über 10 000 nach Nicaragua.
Das kann man doch nicht als freundli-
chen Akt bezeichnen.

SPIEGEL: Und was machen Sie in
Europa, in Fernost, in Mittelamerika?

KISSINGER: Das sind doch Gebiete,
die während der gesamten Nachkriegs-
zeit Teil bestehender Bündnisse waren.
Wir würden doch nicht hunderttausend
oder zehntausend Tonnen Rüstungsgü-
ter nach Finnland schicken oder nach
Rumänien, wenn die Rumänen mit der
Sowjet-Union brechen würden. Das
würde doch als extreme Provokation
empfunden werden.

SPIEGEL: Gut, darüber kann man
reden. Aber umgekehrt tun die Sowjets
das ja auch nicht, es sind doch die
Amerikaner, die Waffen nach Europa
schicken wollen.

KISSINGER: Man kann aber doch
wohl sagen, daß die Sowjets versuchen,
Europa den USA zu entfremden, wobei
sie sich taktische Fehler zunutze machen,

DER SPIEGEL, Nr. 40/1983

163

Bestzeit.

Kundendienstmeister Krull
macht es immer wieder Freude, mit
Kunden einen Pannenkurs zu
machen - abgesehen vom praktischen
Nutzen, den diese ständige Einrich-
tung bringt. Frau Müller zum Beispiel
kann in Zukunft ein platter Reifen
kaum mehr schrecken; den wechselt
sie wie ein erfahrener Mechaniker.
Ihre Bestzeit: sieben Minuten.
Mit Aktionen, wie diesem Pannen-
kurs, möchten wir unseren Service
noch umfassender und persönlicher
machen - zur perfekten Wartung des
Wagens noch zusätzliche Hilfe geben.

Unser Kundendienst-Leistungskreis

So ist auch durch diesen besonderen
„Dienst am Kunden“ der Kunden-
dienst mit dem Stern ein Stück
Mercedes-Qualität.

Mercedes-Benz.
Ihr guter Stern auf allen Straßen.

die unsere Regierung begangen hat. Ich
glaube, das ganze Mittelstreckenpro-
blem könnte relativ leicht gelöst werden,
wenn die Sowjets nicht versuchen, den
völligen Abzug amerikanischer Waffen
aus Europa herbeizuführen.

SPIEGEL: Henry, das glauben Sie
doch selbst nicht. Das ist doch echt nicht
wahr.

KISSINGER: Den völligen Verzicht
auf die Stationierung von Mittelstrecken-
waffen, um es präzise zu sagen. Schließ-
lich hat Paul Nitze eine Obergrenze von
75 vorgeschlagen, die wir inzwischen
mehr oder weniger akzeptiert haben.
Wenn sie nicht auf den völligen Verzicht
aus sind, warum dann so viel Aufhebens
um 75?

SPIEGEL: Weil es nicht logisch in der
Welt, in der Politik und unter Menschen
zugeht. Und weil die Menschen, also
auch die Amerikaner, die Gefangenen
ihres Systems sind.

KISSINGER: Aber die Sowjets kön-
nen ihre Paranoia nicht so weit treiben,
daß alles, was sie an Rückversicherungen
verlangen, nur von uns zu kommen hat.
Eine solche Definition von absoluter
Sicherheit für die Sowjet-Union würde
absolute Unsicherheit für jedes andere
Land bedeuten. Wenn man ein Gleich-
gewicht bei Mittelstreckenraketen auf
sehr niedriger Ebene erzielte, gäbe es
doch keine ernsthafte Gefahr eines Erst-
schlags. Nehmen wir Nitzes Zahl 75,
nehmen wir 100, über Zahlen will ich
nicht streiten, und sagen, nicht mehr als
die Hälfte davon dürfen Pershings sein:
Wo bestünde da noch wirklich eine Ge-
fahr für die Sowjet-Union?

SPIEGEL: Ganz sicher nur in deren
Philosophie. Die wollen nicht, daß sie
von deutschem Boden aus durch Ameri-
kaner bedroht werden. Das ist vielleicht
nicht vernünftig, aber man kann es ver-
stehen.

KISSINGER: Selbst wenn man das
versteht, so heißt das doch nicht, daß
man nicht zu einer anderen Lösung kom-
men kann als dem völligen Verzicht der
Vereinigten Staaten auf die Stationie-
rung.

SPIEGEL: Da können wir nur noch
einmal wiederholen, daß ja nicht nur die
Sowjets gegen jegliche Stationierung
neuer amerikanischer Waffen sind, son-
dern Millionen von Menschen in West-
europa. Die reden nicht mehr nur von
der sowjetischen Bedrohung, sondern
halten die neuen US-Waffen für glei-
chermaßen bedrohlich.

KISSINGER: Die Vereinigten Staaten
dürfen nicht in die Lage geraten, daß sie
der Stationierung dieser Waffen mehr
Bedeutung beimessen als die Europäer.
Wir dürfen, was die Stationierung an-
geht, nicht in die Rolle von Bittstellern
geraten. Wir können uns selbst mit ande-
ren Systemen verteidigen. Die sachliche
Begründung für die Stationierung habe
ich Ihnen schon gegeben. Sie sind ande-
rer Meinung. So ist das nun mal, Politik
ist nun mal keine exakte Wissenschaft.

SPIEGEL: Aber wir sind ja in einem
Punkt durchaus derselben Ansicht. Sie
haben gesagt: Wenn die Europäer es
politisch nicht schaffen, dann ist es bes-
ser, den politischen Streit zu vermeiden
und diese Waffen auf See zu stationie-
ren.

KISSINGER: Nein, ich habe gesagt,
daß man 1979 auf der Grundlage einer
rein militärischen Analyse die eine wie
die andere Entscheidung hätte treffen
können, daß sich die endgültige Ent-
scheidung aber aus militärischen und
politischen Faktoren ergab*. Wenn jetzt
am Ende dieses Entscheidungsablaufs als
Ergebnis herauskommt, daß keine neuen
amerikanischen Waffen in Europa stati-
oniert werden, dann wäre das ein zu
hoher politischer Preis.

SPIEGEL: Mit anderen Worten: Da
wir es auch mal falsch gemacht haben,
muß es auch weitergemacht werden.

KISSINGER: Ich sage nicht, daß es
ein Fehler war. Es war eine Bewertung,
bei der vernünftige Menschen sich so-
wohl in die eine wie in die andere
Richtung entscheiden konnten. Nach-
dem aber die Entscheidung gefallen ist,
wäre der Preis für eine Revision höher
als der Preis für die Entscheidung selbst.
Es wäre ein großer Schritt in Richtung
Neutralisierung. So ist das Leben nun
mal.

SPIEGEL: So ist das Leben nun mal,
und derart wird man die Natostaaten für
nichts und wieder nichts politisch teilen,
nur um bei der Entscheidung zur Per-
shing-Stationierung zu bleiben.

KISSINGER: Es sind nicht wir, die
West-Europa teilen, sondern diejenigen,
die ihrer Opposition keine Grenzen setz-
ten. Angesichts der Reichweite moder-
ner Waffen kann man beinahe alles von
überall aus machen. So gesehen kann
man gegen die Stationierung jeglicher
Waffen überall in der Welt argumentie-
ren, außer im mittleren Westen der Ver-
einigten Staaten.

SPIEGEL: Right so.

KISSINGER: Aber es kann nicht hin-
gehen, daß alle Waffen in den Vereinig-
ten Staaten stationiert werden, das wäre
ebenfalls absurd.

SPIEGEL: Das war aber auch nie der
Fall.

KISSINGER: Das Paradoxe an der
gegenwärtigen Situation ist doch, daß
der Westen einerseits ohne Frage die
Formulierung einer schlüssigen Verteidi-
gungspolitik vernachlässigt und das Ver-
trauen auf Atomwaffen im allgemeinen,
die Mittelstreckenraketen lassen wir mal
beiseite, übertrieben hat. Andererseits
besteht jetzt die Gefahr eines geradezu
selbstzerstörerischen Abscheus gegen
Atomwaffen, der möglicherweise zu

* „Wenn sie (die Europäer) die (Mittelstreckenwaffen) nicht wünschen oder wenn die Frage für sie die schwierig zu beantworten ist und wir trotzdem denken, daß wir die Mittelstreckenraketen brauchen, dann würde ich sie auf See dislozieren.“ Henry Kissinger in einem SPIEGEL-Gespräch vom 8. Februar 1982.

165

einem allgemeinen Pazifismus führen
und es schwer machen wird, eine alterna-
tive nicht-atomare Verteidigung aufzu-
bauen, was den Sowjets dann wiederum
die Möglichkeit gibt, zu unterstellen,
jeder Krieg werde zwangsläufig in einen
Atomkrieg ausarten.

SPIEGEL: Das klingt ähnlich und
doch wieder anders als das, was ein
anderer bedeutender amerikanischer Ex-
Minister, der frühere Pentagon-Chef Ro-
bert McNamara, gerade in „Foreign
Affairs“ geschrieben hat. McNamara
hält Atomwaffen militärisch schlechthin
für sinnlos und damit die von ihm selbst
einst mitentwickelte und immer noch
gültige Nato-Doktrin der „flexible re-
sponse“ für nicht mehr glaubwürdig, ja,
er hielt sie offenbar nie für glaubwürdig.

KISSINGER: McNamara und ich sind
gut befreundet. Ich habe mich zufällig
ergrade mit ihm getroffen und mit ihm
über seinen Artikel gesprochen. Ich
stimme mit ihm in seiner Analyse und
vielleicht sogar in seinen Empfehlungen
zu 80 Prozent überein.

SPIEGEL: Und was sind die restli-
chen 20 Prozent?

KISSINGER: Anders als er glaube
ich, daß wir auch bei einer neuen kon-
ventionellen Verteidigungsstrategie stets
eine Verbindung zur atomaren Strategie
aufrechterhalten müssen.

SPIEGEL: Das sehen wir nicht ein.
Aber Sie sind der Erfahrenere.

KISSINGER: Darum geht es nicht,
dies ist ein qualvolles Problem.

SPIEGEL: McNamara sagt: Wenn wir
wirklich pro Jahr vier Prozent mehr Geld
für die Verteidigung ausgeben – und wir
geben ja noch nicht mal drei aus, drei
stehen immer nur auf dem Papier –,
können wir mit den neuen konventionel-
len Mitteln eine ausreichende Abschrek-
kung schaffen.

KISSINGER: Das ist absolut richtig,
darüber gibt es keine Meinungsverschie-
denheit. Ich würde nur, anders als
McNamara, nicht von vornherein erklä-
ren, daß wir nicht als erste Atomwaffen
einsetzen würden. Solch eine Zusiche-
rung würde ich nicht im voraus geben.

SPIEGEL: Das ist aber dann genau
die Abschreckung, die bisher gogelten
und die er selbst entwickelt hat.

KISSINGER: Zu welchem Zeitpunkt
ich sie einsetzen würde: ich bin immer
der Meinung gewesen, daß wir eine Posi-
tion anstreben sollten, in der wir es gar
nicht – oder jedenfalls spät – tun müß-
ten. Aber anders als er würde ich es nicht
formell zum Prinzip unserer Politik
machen.

SPIEGEL: Dem kann man schwer
widersprechen.

KISSINGER: Man darf sich nicht sel-
ber die Hände binden, weil man dadurch
der anderen Seite freie Hand gibt. Dar-
um geht es mir.

SPIEGEL: Und deshalb beharren Sie
auch auf einer Stationierung der neuen

Waffen in Europa, wollen darauf nicht
völlig verzichten?

KISSINGER: Nein, will ich nicht.
Aber ich könnte mir leicht eine so drasti-
sche zahlenmäßige Begrenzung vorstel-
len, daß es schon einer ganzen Kette von
Verrücktheiten bedürfte, um sie auf ag-
gressive Weise einzusetzen. Auf die Per-
shing würde ich allerdings, im Gegensatz
zu Nitze, nicht verzichten.

SPIEGEL: Gott sei Dank, daß wir
Nitze haben.

KISSINGER: Ob ich sie erfunden hätte-
te, ist eine andere Frage; ich nehme an,

KISSINGER: Ich meine, man sollte
folgendermaßen vorgehen: Zunächst ein
Abkommen, wenn nötig ein Interimsab-
kommen, über INF, irgendwo auf der
Basis der Nitze-Zahlen.

Zugleich sollte START in zwei Abtei-
lungen untergliedert werden – eine Ver-
einbarung, mit der praktisch SALT 2
akzeptiert wird, auch wenn wir es aus
innenpolitischen Gründen nicht so nen-
nen dürfen, aber auf jeden Fall etwas im
Rahmen des SALT-Vertrages mit niedri-
geren Zahlen. Die könnten leicht von
2250 auf 1800 oder 2000 reduziert wer-
den, und das könnte für die nächsten

fünf Jahre gelten. So
twas könnte recht
schnell geschehen,
denn die Vorarbeiten
dafür sind ja schon
gemacht.

SPIEGEL: Sie wol-
len also tatsächlich
SALT 2, das Sie doch
selbst abgelehnt ha-
ben, vollstrecken,
wenn auch mit ande-
rem Etikett?

KISSINGER: Ich habe es nicht abgelehnt; ich habe einen wesentlichen Teil von SALT 2 selbst mit ausgehandelt. Es ist doch absurd, ein nicht ratifiziertes Abkommen zu befolgen und sich auch noch über Verletzungen eines nicht ratifizierten Abkommens zu beschweren. Gleichzeitig sollten wir dann eine Grundsatzvereinbarung wie 1974 in Wldadiwostok anstreben, die den Rahmen für das nächste Abkommen absteckt, das anlaufen würde, wann immer diese fünf Jahre vorbei sind, also in den späten 80er Jahren.

Dieses Abkommen sollte dann eine
Reihe von Fragen klären, so zum Bei-
spiel das Problem der britischen und
französischen Atomstreitkräfte.

Das ließe sich, glaube ich, ungefähr in
einem Jahr erreichen: eine Senkung der
SALT-Zahlen und eine Grundsatzver-
einbarung darüber, was man sich für die
90er Jahre vorstellt.

Dem würden, glaube ich – und das ist
das wichtigste – auch viele Leute aus der
Friedensbewegung in Europa sich nicht
verschließen können, denn die überwie-
gende Mehrheit dieser Friedensbewe-
gung sind doch vernünftige, nachdenkli-
che Leute . . .

SPIEGEL: Ja, weil wir bisher noch
immer mit Leuten sprechen konnten wie
Ihnen.

KISSINGER: Sie wissen, ich habe
immer mit Ihnen gesprochen, ob Sie nun

Ex-Verteidigungsminister McNamara

„Nicht als erster nuklear feuern“

sie wurde entwickelt, um ein anderes,
schon bestehendes System abzulösen,
wie das meistens so der Fall ist. Aber
Nitzes Zahl unter Einschuß einiger Per-
shings ist ein sehr vernünftiger Vor-
schlag. Ich würde den Sowjets noch
weitere 100 in Asien zubilligen, auch
wenn sie Europa erreichen oder nach
Europa verlegt werden können. Das wä-
re eine Art Ausgleich für die britischen
und französischen Systeme und schiene
mir ein faires Arrangement. Und mehr
als das: Es würde nach meinem Dafür-
halten die Kriegsgefahr nicht erhöhen.

SPIEGEL: Wenn man an das britische
und französische atomare Potential
denkt, das ja in einigen Jahren von den
Sowjets wirklich als Bedrohung angese-
hen werden muß, ist es dann nicht an der
Zeit, die START- und INF-Verhandlun-
gen unter ein Dach zu bringen?

DER SPIEGEL, Nr. 40/1983

167

Nixon (M.), Breschnew (r.), Kissinger (l.) in Moskau 1974: „Keine Supermacht darf die andere unterminieren“

kritisch zur amerikanischen Politik waren oder nicht. Als antiamerikanisch habe ich Sie jedenfalls nie angesehen. Ich habe Sie, Rudolf, eher für einen Deutschen gehalten, der in den 50er und 60er Jahren nationalistischer war als damals üblich. Aber das ist kein Verbrechen.

Im übrigen ist der SPIEGEL das meistgelesene Magazin, und ich halte es für besser, wenn Sie sich unseren Standpunkt anhören und sich dann damit auseinandersetzen können. Denn auseinandersetzen werden Sie sich damit ohnehin, wir können Sie nicht daran hindern, uns zu attackieren.

**SPIEGEL:** Aber im Moment scheint uns - dazu können Sie wahrscheinlich wenig sagen - das politische Personal einfach nicht in der Lage, so mit uns zu sprechen, wie wir früher doch immer miteinander gesprochen haben.

**KISSINGER:** Sie können mit Außenminister Shultz sprechen.

**SPIEGEL:** Shultz ist ein allgemein anerkannter Mann, aber hat er wirklich einen Nerv für Außenpolitik? Den hat doch, außer vielleicht Nitze, niemand in der ganzen Regierung.

**KISSINGER:** Ich glaube, Shultz wird zunehmend vertrauter mit diesen Fragen, mit ihm können Sie ein ernsthaftes Gespräch führen.

Aber ich möchte noch etwas anderes sagen: Die Sowjets stehen vor einer wichtigen Entscheidung. Es muß für sie

eine große Versuchung sein, die gegenwärtige Situation auszunutzen und mit einer Verhinderung jeglicher Stationierung einen bedeutenden taktischen Sieg zu erringen. Viel wichtiger aber ist meines Erachtens, ob wir mit ihnen zu einem Dialog finden, der die Bedeutung dieser Frage reduziert, und ob wir diesen Dialog dann auf andere Gebiete ausdehnen können, die immer schwerer zu durchschauen sind und in denen es sonst eines Tages unmöglich sein wird, die Konfrontation in Grenzen zu halten.

Nehmen wir nur mal an, Beirut fliegt in die Luft. Oder nehmen Sie den Persischen Golf, wo es - egal, was wir oder die Sowjets tun - mit beinahe mathematischer Sicherheit in den nächsten fünf oder sechs Jahren eine Krise geben wird. Wenn dann eine Art von Kommunikation zwischen den beiden Supermächten und ein gewisses Vertrauen vorhanden ist, daß die beiderseitigen Aktionen sich in Grenzen halten, dann kann so etwas unter Kontrolle gehalten werden.

**SPIEGEL:** Und wenn nicht?

**KISSINGER:** Mein Alptraum ist seit je, daß sich etwas Ähnliches wiederholen könnte wie beim Ausbruch des Ersten Weltkriegs. Niemand wollte einen Krieg dieses Ausmaßes, aber im Juli 1914 begriff keiner der europäischen Staatsmäner, welche Folgen seine Handlungen haben könnten, und so erhöhten sie, in einem vergleichsweise unbedeutenden

Konflikt, den Einsatz. Wenn sie im Juli 1914 gewußt hätten, wie die Welt 1918 aussehen würde, hätte keiner von ihnen den Krieg begonnen. Das ist auch jetzt die Gefahr, und wir müssen solch einen aus Unverständnis entstandenen Krieg verhindern.

**SPIEGEL:** Ein russischer Freund, der trotz seines hohen Ranges kein wirklicher Kommunist zu sein scheint, hat uns in Gegenwart anderer Leute einmal gesagt: „Nach meiner Einschätzung haben die beiden Supermächte im letzten Jahrzehnt die Kontrolle über das, was man rüstungstechnisch machen soll und kann, verloren.“ *Beide*, hat er gesagt, und das ist für einen hohen Russen schon ganz erstaunlich. Man fragt sich, ob ein hoher Amerikaner das auch zugeben würde.

**KISSINGER:** Ich glaube ja, siehe McNamara. Das ist eine Seite des Problems, eine wichtige Seite. Aber ich glaube, die Waffen sind derart furchterregend, daß allein deshalb schon ein innerer Widerstand gegen den Einsatz von Atomwaffen da sein wird. Wichtiger scheint mir, daß die beiden Supermächte in den vergangenen acht Jahren oder auch schon vorher die Kontrolle über die politische Evolution verloren haben.

Denken Sie an den Nahostkrieg 1973. Das war ein schlimmer Krieg, aber wir standen täglich in Verbindung mit den Sowjets, selbst als wir unsere Streitkräfte in Alarmbereitschaft versetzten. Am En-

168

de hielten sich beide Seiten zurück. In
der gegenwärtigen Krise bin ich nicht
sicher, ob die Kommunikation so leicht
wäre. Deshalb ist es unbedingt erforder-
lich, daß beide Seiten ein Interesse daran
entwickeln, etwas zu schaffen, das ihren
Aktionen politische Grenzen setzt.

SPIEGEL: Sie kennen als Deutscher
die deutsche Philosophie. Da möchten
wir Ihnen Johann Gottlieb Fichte entge-
genhalten, der sagt: Jede Großmacht
muß, sie kann nicht anders, überall, wo
die andere Großmacht eine Schwäche
zeigt, sofort hineinstoßen. Jede. Es
kommt überhaupt nicht darauf an, wel-
cher Art die Großmacht ist.

KISSINGER: In der Vergangenheit
stimmte das fast hundertprozentig. Die
andere Großmacht entschloß sich dann
zu irgendeinem Zeitpunkt zum Wider-
stand, und es entstand entweder eine Art
Gleichgewicht oder Krieg. Wenn wir das
heute anwendeten, hätten wir praktisch
in jeder Generation einen Atomkrieg.

Aber lassen Sie mich auf Ihren deutschen Philosophen mit einem anderen deutschen Philosophen antworten: Kant sagt in seiner Schrift „Zum ewigen Frieden“ ...

SPIEGEL: Davon verstand der nun
herzlich wenig.

KISSINGER: Er sagt etwas recht Gutes, nämlich, daß der dauerhafte Friede eines Tages kommen wird, und zwar entweder durch die moralische Einsicht von Menschen, die dem kategorischen Imperativ folgen, oder durch einen Zyklus immer größerer Gewalt, der ihn zur praktischen Notwendigkeit werden läßt.

Das bedeutet für uns, daß es eine neue
Dimension in der internationalen Politik
gibt, die von den Staatsmännern so viel
Selbstbeherrschung verlangt, daß sie
nicht in jedes Vakuum vorstoßen. Und
das muß zu einer Zeit geschehen, wo die
Staatsmännder unter innenpolitischem
Druck stehen und die Qualität der
Staatsmänner diesen Anforderungen
zuwiderläuft.

Nach allem, was wir wissen, sind die
Sowjets derzeit vor allem mit einem
innenpolitischen Machtkampf beschäft-
tigt. Und bei uns, das wissen wir genau,
ist man ganz erheblich mit den jeweils
nächsten Wahlen beschäftigt. In jedem
einzelnen Land, das ich kenne, sind die
Fähigkeiten, die man braucht, um an die
Spitze zu gelangen, schon lange nicht
mehr dieselben wie die, die man an der
Spitze braucht.

SPIEGEL: So ähnlich haben es die
amerikanischen Historiker Morris und
Commager schon vor 25 Jahren geschrieben. Aber es stimmt, es ist immer
schlimmer geworden.

KISSINGER: Ob man Adenauer oder
de Gaulle mochte oder nicht – sie waren
vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg aufgewachsen,
als sie noch erkennen konnten, wer
sie überhaupt waren, bevor sie Verantwortung übernahmen. Unter den Politikern der Gegenwart können das nur sehr wenige von sich sagen. Das ändert aber

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37

DER SPIEGEL, Nr. 40/1983

169

nichts daran, daß wir zu einem System kommen müssen, bei dem uns die Krisen nicht aus der Hand gleiten.

Nehmen Sie den Persischen Golf, neh-
men Sie Lateinamerika - über Mittel-
amerika kann ich nicht sprechen* -, das
erfordert ein gemeinsames Vorgehen al-
ler demokratischen Industrienationen.
Das können wir nicht allein lösen, das
können die Europäer nicht allein
lösen...

SPIEGEL: ... und Japan erst recht
nicht.

KISSINGER: 1973 war ich sehr aufge-
regt, weil ich glaubte, die Europäer woll-
ten – was ja auch der Fall war – aus der
Nahostkrise Kapital schlagen. Wenn es
heute am Golf eine Krise gäbe, könnten
sich nicht einmal die nationalistischsten
Europäer einbilden, sie würden dort zu
unseren Lasten Vor-
teile erringen. Ich
spreche dabei gar nicht
von militärischen Ak-
tionen, sondern da-
von, wie wir uns politi-
sche und wirtschaft-
liche Stabilität vorstel-
len.

SPIEGEL: Da stim-
men wir Ihnen gern
zu.

KISSINGER: Dasselbe gilt für Lateinamerika. Das beschäftigt mich ungemein, denn ich glaube, daß wir so, wie wir das Schuldenproblem dieser Länder bisher behandeln, die Gefahr einer politischen Radiakisierung Lateinamerikas riskieren. Der Preis, den wir dafür bezahlen müßten, wäre unvergleichlich höher als das Problem der Verschuldung.

SPIEGEL: Auch
richtig. Aber was
schlagen Sie vor?

KISSINGER: Wir können nicht auf
Dauer ein System beibehalten, bei dem
über 50 Prozent der Export-Erlöse nur
zur Zinstilgung dienen. Das kann keine
Regierung auf lange oder auch nur
mittlere Sicht durchstehen, wenn sie ih-
rer Bevölkerung auf Verlangen interna-
tionaler Finanzinstitutionen und Banken
eine Austerity-Politik verschreiben muß,
nur um ihre Žinsen bezahlen zu können.

Diese Länder werden ihre Schulden
nur bezahlen können, wenn es eine wirt-
schaftliche Entwicklung gibt. Es muß
mehr Kapital in Länder hineinfließen,
als aus ihnen herausgeholt wird. Wenn
man ein Entwicklungsland zum Kapital-
Exportland macht, muß das zwangsläufig
zur Katastrophe führen. Deshalb sollten

wir das Problem definieren und behan-
deln. Und wenn da nicht alle Industrie-
länder ihre Pflicht erfüllen, schaffen sie
die Voraussetzungen für vom Volk ge-
tragenene radikale anti-westliche
Regime.

SPIEGEL: Es ist immer wieder fasziniierend, den Historiker und Staatsmann Henry Kissinger über die Probleme dieser Welt dozieren zu hören, auch wenn er bisweilen unrecht hat.

KISSINGER: Zum Beispiel?

SPIEGEL: Im Libanon. Da haben
Sie, wenige Tage nach dem Einmarsch
der Israelis, von einer „außerordent-
lichen Chance“ für eine grundlegende
Regelung des Nahostproblems gespro-
chen.

KISSINGER: Natürlich will ich nicht
damit in die Geschichte eingehen, daß

SPIEGEL: Mit Begin und Scharon
konnte das doch gar nicht laufen.

KISSINGER: Bismarck hat einmal
während des Krimkrieges gesagt: „Wehe
dem Staatsmann, dessen Kriegsziele bei
Ende des Krieges nicht so klar sind wie
bei Kriegsbeginn.“ Und genau das ist
den Israelis passiert.

SPIEGEL: Sie wollten ja angeblich
zunächst nur eine 40 Kilometer tiefe
Sicherheitszone schaffen.

KISSINGER: Wenn es ihre Absicht
war, die PLO zu zerschlagen und zu
beweisen, daß es keine Chance für eine
radikale Lösung gab, und wenn sie es
dabei belassen hätten, die PLO - von mir
aus auch mit einem Vorstoß nach Beirut
- hinauszutreiben und sich dann auf ihre
jetzige Position zurückzuziehen, dann
hätte es unter israelischen Sicherheitsge-

Einmarsch der Israelis im Libanon: „Kriegsziel bei Kriegsbeginn nicht klar“

ich ausgerechnet im SPIEGEL zum er-
stenmal im meinem Leben zugebe, daß
ich mich geirrt hätte. Wir wollen es ja
nicht übertreiben. Ich sehe schon das
Titelbild mit der Schlagzeile: Kissinger:
„Ich hatte unrecht.“

SPIEGEL: Nein, nein. Wir würden
das anders machen. Wir würden sagen:
Er hatte immer recht, nur einmal nicht.

KISSINGER: Aber ernsthaft: Ich ha-
be nie für möglich gehalten, daß der
Libanon als solcher eine Möglichkeit
biete, das Nahostproblem zu lösen. Ich
hatte geglaubt – und ich gebe zu, ich
glaube es immer noch –, daß das, was als
Krise im Libanon begann, hätte genutzt
werden können und müssen, um die
Zustände im Westjordanland zu verbes-
ern und so eine gewisse Bewegung in
die Situation im Nahen Osten zu brin-
gen.

sichtspunkten Sinn gemacht. Wir hätten
dann sagen können: Jetzt seid ihr sicher,
jetzt muß es woanders Fortschritte ge-
ben. Aber sie wollten etwas anderes, was
keinen Sinn machte, sie wollten einen
Friedensvertrag mit dem Libanon.

SPIEGEL: Und Rache wollten sie auch.

KISSINGER: Vor allem wollten sie den Friedensvertrag. Das bedeutet, daß sie eine Regierung in Beirut einsetzen mußten, womit sie in die Welt der libanesischen Innenpolitik gerieten; daß sie dann Soldaten verloren und uns schließlich mit hineinzogen. Statt auf eine Inteerimslösung für Westjordanland mußten wir uns um Verhandlungen über den Libanon bemühen.

SPIEGEL: Halten Sie denn das, was in Westjordanland geschieht, für richtig? Kann man die Araber so behandeln?

* Kissinger ist zur Zeit Vorsitzender einer von
Präsident Reagan einberufenen überparteilichen
Kommission für Mittelamerika.

DER SPIEGEL, Nr. 40/1983

171

The Times

**KISSINGER:** Ich habe nie eine andere Lösung für möglich gehalten als eine Rückgabe des bevölkerten Teils von Westjordanland minus Jerusalem an die Araber, unter arabischer Herrschaft. Das hätten wir voriges Jahr erreichen sollen, statt in Libanon herumzuspielen.

**SPIEGEL:** Aber das hätte eine Konfrontation mit Scharon und Begin bedeu-tet.

**KISSINGER:** Keine Frage. Das war die „außerordentliche Gelegenheit“, die ich damals sah. Jetzt ist der Libanon zur Tragödie für Israel und auch für den Westen geworden, denn am Ende wird beinahe sicher eine pro-syrische Regie-rung in Beirut stehen. Ich glaube, selbst viele Israelis sind heute der Überzeu-gung, wir hätten voriges Jahr härter sein und das Dilemma verhindern müssen, in dem wir uns nun alle befinden ...

**SPIEGEL:** ... und das, wie Sie selbst eben gesagt haben, auch die beiden Su-permächte wieder in eine Konfrontation führen kann, denn schließlich steht die Sowjet-Union hinter Syrien.

**KISSINGER:** Ja. Obwohl ich Assad, wie Sie wissen, persönlich sehr schätze, muß ich großen Wert darauf legen, daß die beiden Supermächte sich auf eine gemeinsame Form der Zurückhaltung einigen.

**SPIEGEL:** Setzt das aber nicht vor-aus, daß die eine Großmacht die andere auch als Großmacht akzeptiert?

**KISSINGER:** Absolut, keine Frage. Aber ein solches Konzept läuft traditio-nellen amerikanischen Vorurteilen zuwi-der. Ich werde hier doch von Liberalen und Konservativen gleichermaßen kriti-siert, weil ich glaube, die wichtigste Auf-gabe wäre es, die nationalen Interessen zu definieren, wie global auch immer

und wie viele andere Länder das auch einschließt.

Die Amerikaner haben nun einmal, auf beiden Seiten des Spektrums, eine eher moralische Haltung zur Außenpoli-tik. Die Liberalen glauben, alles, was nötig wäre, sei, mit den Sowjets zu reden. Die Konservativen glauben, alles, was nötig wäre, sei, die Sowjets zu verdammen. Und Rhetorik ist in beiden Fällen schon die Lösung. Ich habe fest-gestellt, daß man mit den Sowjets am besten fährt, wenn man sie fair, unsenti-mental, präzise und respektvoll behan-delt. Jedes einzelne dieser Elemente ist nötig, und das ist in diesem Lande nicht leicht zu erreichen.

Aber einen anderen Weg als das Gleichgewicht der beiden Mächte gibt es heute einfach nicht.

**SPIEGEL:** Wir müssen Ihnen mal wieder zustimmen. Deswegen darf man denn auch nicht wie Ronald Reagan sagen, die Sowjets würden eines Ta-ges im Mülleimer der Geschichte lan-den.

**KISSINGER:** Ich würde von vielen Äußerungen abraten. Andererseits muß man dem Präsidenten zugute halten, daß er ganz anders gehandelt als geredet hat und daß sein Verhalten durchaus mit dem im Einklang steht, was ich hier dargelegt habe. Und ein erfahrenes so-wjetisches System, das ihn nun seit ein paar Jahren in Aktion gesehen und das mit einem zivilisierten, vernünftigen Mann wie Shultz zu tun hat, sollte in der Lage sein, mit uns zu einer Art Überein-kunft zu gelangen.

**SPIEGEL:** Henry Kissinger ein Opti-mist?

**KISSINGER:** Wenn Sie mich vor drei Wochen besucht hätten, vor dem Flug-

zeugzwischenfall, wäre ich sehr optimistisch gewesen. Ich hätte Ihnen prophezeit, daß wir mit größter Wahr-scheinlichkeit ein INF-Abkommen und eine

Grundsatzvereinba-rung über START noch vor Ende näch-sten Jahres erreichen würden.

**SPIEGEL:** Damit ist es nun vorbei?

**KISSINGER:** Ich halte das immer noch für möglich, sogar für wahrscheinlich, es sei denn, in Moskau pas-siert etwas, was denen die Entscheidung er-schwert. Ich glaube al-lerdings nicht, daß es noch vor der Stationie-rung möglich ist.

**SPIEGEL:** Wobei man stets bedenken muß – und Sie wissen das –, daß die Russen von ihrer eigenen Schwäche so sehr überzeugt sind, daß sie Angst haben und aus Angst etwas ma-chen könnten, was sie sonst nicht ma-chen. Das sollte jeder amerikanische Politiker sehen.

**KISSINGER:** Mit den Sowjets ist es in der Tat paradox: Sie sind Maulhelden, wenn sie sich stark fühlen, und sie neigen zu panischen Reaktionen, wenn sie sich schwach fühlen.

**SPIEGEL:** Und sie fühlen sich schwach. Sie können zwar immer noch die Welt in die Luft sprengen, aber darum geht es ja nicht. Sie sind schwach. Sie haben Angst. Polen war für sie ein furchtbarer Schock.

**KISSINGER:** Ich glaube auch, daß ihr System in ernsten Schwierigkeiten ist. Auf jeden Fall aber hat für den Augen-blick der Flugzeugabschuß die Dinge politisch erschwert.

**SPIEGEL:** Gerade nach dem Flug-zeugabschuß, gerade weil wir sehen, was sich derzeit im Libanon abspielt: Gibt es eigentlich überhaupt irgendeinen Grund dafür, daß sich Reagan und Andropow nicht treffen?

**KISSINGER:** Im Prinzip befürworte ich ein Gipfeltreffen, vorausgesetzt, es ist allgemein gut vorbereitet. Aber ich halte überhaupt nichts von der Idee, daß Reagan und Andropow sich zu einem Gespräch über den Libanon treffen, oh-ne daß vorher ein Einvernehmen be-steht, was dabei herauskommen soll. Denn sonst geben beide nur Erklärungen über den Libanon ab, wodurch die philos-sophischen und sogar die faktischen Dif-ferenzen so riesig würden, daß es die Dinge nur verschlechtern und nicht ver-bessern würde.

**SPIEGEL:** Dr. Kissinger, wir danken Ihnen für dieses Gespräch.

172

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MAY 1982

THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY

PAGE 35

# KISSINGER AND NIXON
## IN THE
## WHITE HOUSE

BY SEYMOUR M. HERSH

Seymour M. Hersh, a former correspondent for The New York Times, won the Pulitzer Prize for international reporting in 1970, for his revelation of the massacre at My Lai, in South Vietnam. He is the winner of virtually every major journalism award, including the George Polk Award, which he has received four times—more than any other reporter in the history of the Polk Awards. His new book, which will be published early next year by Summit, is a history of Henry Kissinger's service as national security adviser to Richard Nixon, during Nixon's first term. The article below is drawn from that book; it deals with White House wiretapping activities and with the White House internal-security unit known as the Plumbers. A second Atlantic article by Mr. Hersh, to be published later this year, will be concerned with one aspect of the Nixon-Kissinger foreign policy during Nixon's first term.

### I. THE WIRETAPS

ROGER MORRIS QUICKLY WON HENRY A. KISSINGER'S trust in the early months of the Nixon presidency. Not only was he a good friend of Lawrence S. Eagleburger, who had emerged, after Colonel Alexander M. Haig, Jr., as Kissinger's closest confidant among the staff members of the National Security Council, but he was also bright, articulate, and appropriately caustic for a thirty-one-year-old Harvard Ph.D. at work in the White House. Morris's responsibility was primarily for African affairs, and his memos on the situation in Nigeria—where the federal government was waging a bitter civil war with Biafran separatists—had impressed both Kissinger and Nixon.

It was not surprising, then, that Morris was asked by Eagleburger to sit in Kissinger's office and "cover" it one weekend day sometime in the late spring of 1969. Haig, who usually worked seven days a week, had rare time off, and Eagleburger had an appointment outside the White House and needed relief. Kissinger was spending the

weekend in New York at his parents' home—a trip that, in those early days, he often made.

Morris literally moved into Kissinger's office that day. At one point during the quiet morning, a courier from the Federal Bureau of Investigation came in and left a sealed envelope for Kissinger. Morris brooded about the highly classified document. The courier had explained that the letter contained "very urgent" material. Should he call Henry? Morris could imagine Kissinger's angry impatience at his caution: "Idiot! Of course open it." And so he opened it.

The envelope was from J. Edgar Hoover—for Kissinger's "Eyes Only." "It was this long, detailed account of Martin Luther King's sex life," Morris says. "There were transcripts"—obviously from wiretaps—"and indications that photographs were available." Some of the women with Dr. King had apparently been FBI informants. Morris was appalled.

A few hours later—sometime after lunch—Morris was

ILLUSTRATIONS BY BRAD HOLLAND

PAGE 36

THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY

MAY 1982

joined by Larry Eagleburger, and Morris quickly showed him the FBI documents. "I was speaking as an old friend and as a Foreign Service colleague and I said, 'This is absolutely scurrilous stuff.' "

"Larry just glanced at the first page or two, with the hum attitude of an aide reading a telephone directory, and said, 'Oh, yeah, we get these all the time.' " Eagleburger then went to a nearby file cabinet, opened it, and pulled out Hoover files on members of the NSC staff, including Morton H. Halperin, who had worked in the Pentagon in the Johnson Administration. Files were being kept on Martin Luther King (who had been slain the previous year), Eagleburger told his distressed colleague, "to blunt the black anti-war movement." Morris was not reassured, but kept his peace.

In the beginning, morale was high among the newly recruited members of Henry Kissinger's National Security Council staff, who felt themselves to be a hand-picked elite assembled not as a result of post-election patronage but solely on the basis of their expertise. Many, such as Roger Morris, were Democrats and former members of the Johnson Administration's National Security Council who viscerally disliked Richard Nixon, but Kissinger had been persuasive in insisting that his staff would be above politics. Bureaucratic life in the last years of the Johnson Administration had been stifling—the White House's foreign policy had been intertwined with the Vietnam War to the exclusion of nearly all other issues. This would change, Kissinger assured his staff. There would be an open system, in which all foreign-policy issues would be analyzed and reviewed and then presented to the President, with options, for his decision. There would be a fresh approach to resolving the Vietnam War and—so Nixon and Kissinger assured their aides—settlement of that exhausting and divisive issue within the year. In fact, nothing would change, because Nixon and Kissinger were obsessed not with opening the system to new ideas but with seizing control of it.

HENRY KISSINGER HAD ENTERED THE WHITE HOUSE on Inauguration Day with immense power and no illusions about its source. He understood that his authority would never be disputed as long as he kept his sole client—Richard Nixon—pleased. Kissinger had loyally supported and endorsed Nixon's decision in late February to begin secretly bombing Cambodia with B-52 aircraft from the Strategic Air Command. The bombs were to be reported, even inside the military chain of command, as having fallen in South Vietnam. In April, Kissinger had been among those advocating extreme measures against North Korea when a North Korean aircraft shot down an unarmed Navy electronic-intelligence plane, known as an EC-121, ninety miles off the Korean coast, killing all thirty-one crew members aboard. His loyalty

and his toughness in those incidents had strengthened his position, but by the end of April, 1969, the President still seemed unwilling, or unable, to isolate Melvin R. Laird, the secretary of defense, and William P. Rogers, the secretary of state, from White House decision-making.

Sharing his foreign-policy authority with Laird and Rogers inevitably made Kissinger insecure—and this insecurity never really went away while he was in the White House. Being Jewish didn't help. There is no evidence that Kissinger was an anti-Semitic Jew or was in any way ashamed of his Jewishness. But being Jewish was a chink in his armor—a vulnerability that could threaten his position. Nixon clearly viewed Kissinger's Jewishness as a drawback, at least during the early-years of his presidency. Immediately after taking office, he assigned all responsibility for the Middle East to William Rogers. It would be the only area of such responsibility for Rogers.

There were days when Nixon would directly castigate liberal Jews in front of Kissinger. "Nixon would talk about Jewish traitors, and the eastern Jewish establishment—Jews at Harvard," senior presidential aide John D. Ehrlichman recalls. "And he'd play off Kissinger. 'Isn't that right, Henry? Don't you agree?' And Henry would respond: 'Well, Mr. President—there are Jews and Jews.'" When Jerome B. Wiesner, former science adviser to the Kennedy Administration, criticized Nixon's decision, in March of 1969, to deploy a limited antiballistic-missile system, Ehrlichman says, Nixon angrily denounced Wiesner in front of Kissinger as "another one of those Jews."

That spring, Morton Halperin quickly became a dominant concern in the White House. During the last years of the Johnson Administration, Halperin had been a marked man to senior military men in the Pentagon—most notably to Earle Wheeler, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff—for his role in turning around the government's policy on Vietnam. Wheeler was later among the first to complain to Kissinger after Halperin joined the NSC staff. Senator Barry Goldwater also complained, in a letter sent April 22, 1969, to John Mitchell, the attorney general. Goldwater described Halperin as among those who "made it so hard for the military to operate in the Pentagon by their strategic papers which were forced down the throats of the Joint Chiefs and Commanders."

Hoover, too, repeatedly expressed doubts about Halperin's loyalty; among other things, he told the White House, Halperin had once sponsored a Vietnam War teach-in at Harvard. Kissinger knew better, of course. Halperin had sponsored the teach-in as a *supporter* of the war. He had been among those advocating a strong military response to the North Korean attack on the Navy spy plane; he had helped set up a newly revised National Security Council system that had provided Nixon and Kissinger with immense personal control over the bureaucracy; his advice on issues ranging from strategic-disarmament talks to the Vietnam War was superb; he was a tireless worker who believed that the Nixon Administration was committed to

MAY 1982

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PAGE 37

getting out of Vietnam. Throughout the spring of 1969, Halperin repeatedly praised the Nixon-Kissinger team to his friends in Washington and Boston. He was not disloyal.

But Hoover and Mitchell and Goldwater and Nixon thought he was, and so Kissinger began to savage Halperin behind his back. John Ehrlichman later testified about taking notes, as was his custom, on conversations between Kissinger and Nixon in the Oval Office that spring. The men were discussing possible leakers of information, and Mort Halperin was prominently cited by Kissinger, Ehrlichman said, "as being singularly untrustworthy." Ehrlichman added, "I gathered from the context of the conversation that Dr. Kissinger knew him, knew him quite well." During the conversations, Kissinger depicted Halperin as "philosophically in disagreement" with the President on matters of policy. Ehrlichman said that it was his impression that Halperin did more than merely disapprove of the Nixon-Kissinger decisions: "I gather that he sabotaged them."

THE WHITE HOUSE WIRETAPS WERE INITIATED ON May 9, a few hours after the publication, on page one of *The New York Times*, of a highly accurate dispatch from Washington revealing the B-52 bombing of Cambodia, by William Beecher, a military correspondent. Beecher's dispatch did not describe the excessive secrecy and fraudulent record-keeping involved in the bombing, but it did report that the missions were designed to "signal" North Vietnam that the Nixon Administration would be tougher and far more willing to take military risks for peace than previous administrations had been. Kissinger spoke with Hoover four times on May 9, asking him to find the leakers and declaring, according to a Hoover memorandum, that the White House "will destroy whoever did this if we can find him, no matter where he is."

Later, in attempting to deny responsibility for initiating the wiretaps, Kissinger told newsmen that he had met on the day of the article's publication with Mitchell, Hoover, and Nixon to discuss newspaper leaks. He subsequently changed that account and said that the meeting had taken place, according to his less-than-precise office logs, on April 25, in the Oval Office. In all of his comments and testimony about the wiretapping, Kissinger depicted himself as a passive participant in the decision, made by his superiors, to begin the surveillance. "I can say that the idea that this was not common practice or that this was in any sense illegal simply never crossed my mind," he told the Senate Foreign Relations Committee in September of 1973. In *White House Years*, the first volume of his memoirs, Kissinger provided a further explanation: his motive in going along with the wiretapping "was to prevent the jeopardizing of American and South Vietnamese lives by individuals . . . who disclosed military information entrusted to them in order to undermine policies decided upon after prayerful consideration . . ."

In truth, the May 9 Beecher article simply provided the rationale for installing the wiretaps; it was a catalyst, not the major factor. Kissinger and Nixon were equally—if not more—concerned about a series of leaks in late April and early May regarding some of the hard-line options that had been discussed after the downing of the Navy's EC-121 reconnaissance plane. On May 6, three days before the B-52 story, William Beecher had published a detailed and accurate account of some of the secret deliberations during the EC-121 crisis. Beecher revealed that Nixon and Kissinger had considered B-52 bombing raids against airfields in North Korea as well as the use of nuclear weapons. Amazingly, the Beecher account was not considered an important story by other newspapers or by radio and television, although it flatly contradicted the White House's public version that Nixon and Kissinger had calmly and coolly decided not to take action. Late in the afternoon on May 5, according to Hoover's office calendar, Kissinger visited the FBI Director at the Justice Department; the meeting was undoubtedly linked to Beecher's report, to be published in the next morning's *Times*, which would tell the nation that the men in the White House were talking war, not peace.

For Nixon and Kissinger, the May 6 Beecher account may have brought additional chills, for they could not be sure how much the *Times* reporter knew about one of the truly important secrets of the EC-121 crisis. Did he know that Nixon had become quite drunk early in the crisis?

Nixon's drinking had yet to be perceived as a significant problem for Kissinger and his immediate staff, and the incident was quickly hushed. Halperin, for one, was not told. Larry Eagleburger kept a standing lunch date with an old friend that first week after the EC-121 shootdown and was obviously upset. "Here's the President of the United States, ranting and raving—drunk in the middle of the crisis," the shaken Eagleburger told his friend.

There were other secrets to protect, too. Both Nixon and Kissinger knew by early May that if the North Vietnamese did not respond to the administration's offer of mutual withdrawal, to be presented formally at the Paris peace talks and to the American public within days, the response would be escalation of the war. And Kissinger knew, too, that Halperin's support of the administration's policy in Vietnam was based on what Halperin thought that policy was, and not on what Nixon and Kissinger knew it would be. The same held for Halperin's dovish colleagues on the National Security Council staff.

Another factor in the increasing discord in the White House was Alexander Haig, who had been chosen by Kissinger as his military aide. As a certified hard-liner on Vietnam, Haig had little use for the NSC moderates' doubts and concerns about the war. Halperin was a special target, not only because of his role in the Johnson Administration but also because of his closeness to Kissinger. "Halperin was the early once-and-future menace—for everybody," Roger Morris observes. "In essence, everyone

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believed that Mort was doing what in fact Haig did—moving in on Henry. Nobody gave Haig any credit for moving in.”

Al Haig was immensely popular with the young, bright, and ambitious Kissinger aides when he first joined the NSC staff. He was not viewed as an intellectual threat—his first assignment was the routine task of preparing the President's daily intelligence summary—and the Army colonel struck most of his colleagues as open and self-effacing. He laughed easily, held his gin well, and had a lively, scatological wit. Along with handling the daily intelligence summaries, Haig had access to the vast number of private, back-channel messages from Kissinger's office to American officials throughout the world. He saw, as few other NSC staffers could, the enormity of the foreign-policy takeover that Kissinger and Nixon were trying to accomplish by side-stepping William Rogers and Melvin Laird. As an excellent bureaucrat, he knew that more power for Kissinger meant more power for him.

None of the NSC members, in scores of interviews many years later, were quite sure how Al Haig did it, but within months he managed to become indispensable to Henry Kissinger. His loyalty was astonishing: Haig seemingly worked all the time—every day, every night, every weekend—ensuring that the flow of documents in and out of Kissinger's chaotic office was uninterrupted. And Haig was no minor-league courtier; he had learned from his days as an aide-de-camp and in the Pentagon the art of flattering a superior in a way that put him at ease.

Others on the staff—ever sensitive to the bureaucratic pecking order—soon came to realize that Haig's aggressiveness and assertiveness were being encouraged and countenanced by his patron, Henry Kissinger. For Kissinger, Haig's very presence in his outer office served as a way of demonstrating to the senior military men in the Pentagon and to the hawks in Congress and on the President's staff that Kissinger was reliable. “Haig was the guy Henry could point to,” one former NSC staff man recalls, “and say, ‘If I were a Harvard liberal, a left-wing kook, would I have Al Haig working for me?’ He was Henry’s insurance policy.”

Haig was that, but there was much more. As Richard L. Sneider, Kissinger's aide for East Asian affairs, recalls, “Haig moved in on Henry and he moved in from the very beginning. First of all, he was Henry's butler and his chauffeur. Henry never knew the kind of perks that could be arranged—private planes for trips to New York for dinner, limousines—and he loved it. Haig also was very shrewd politically where Henry was naive. He was advising Henry at first on how to handle Haldeman and Ehrlichman. When Henry had to wear a white tie and tails for his first White House dinner, it was Haig who went to Henry's house and helped him dress for the first time.”

Haig knew far more about wiretapping and the government procedures involved than did anyone else in the White House; he had been exposed to FBI wiretap materi-

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MAY 1982

als while working as a special assistant in the Pentagon in
the early 1960s, and had struck up a friendship then with
William C. Sullivan, a senior Hoover assistant who was in
charge of FBI domestic intelligence activities.

Wiretapping NSC aides was a dirty business, and everybody in the White House and the FBI knew it. Kissinger's method of handling it was simple: he put Haig in charge. It was Haig who, over the next two years, would formally transmit the names of NSC staff members and reporters to be wiretapped. It was Haig who repeatedly went to William Sullivan's office in the FBI to read the wiretap transcripts and summaries. It was Haig who, nearly two years later, transmitted the final order to curtail the surveillances.

It was Haig, too, who gave Kissinger his basic alibi for
his role in the wiretapping. "I would not say that I ever
said to the FBI, Please tap this individual," Kissinger told
the Senate Foreign Relations Committee in July of 1974.
"My perception is that I would not have said anything to
the FBI. That was done by Haig. I would have said to
Haig, We have had this leak, give the names of the people
who had access to the information."

Haig seemed truly to enjoy the snooping. In subsequent
years, he constantly checked up on younger staff members
to ensure that they did not meet with journalists. One junior NSC official recalled being braced by Haig for not getting clearance in advance for one such lunch. The conversation was rattling and left a distinct impression that Big Brother was always watching.

Haig seemed to have no ambivalence about what he was
doing. In 1973, just before the White House wiretaps became a Watergate issue, he told me: "I have absolutely no apologies to make. The wiretaps for the purposes were justified and anyone who claims otherwise is not filled in." It was as if the National Security Council were an Army boot camp, and the men working for Henry Kissinger were recruits with no right to privacy, aides-de-camp who could be subjected to a dressing-down from an officer at any time. If Henry Kissinger did not fully share that attitude, he at least condoned it.

The wiretaps did not stay secret very long. In June,
Roger Morris decided to visit Larry Eagleburger, who had
fallen ill with tension and overwork, at the Washington
Hospital Center. "He was lying there as we talked," Morris recalls. "Tears welled up in his eyes and he said, 'Don't say anything on your phone. You're being tapped.'" Eagleburger also confided that Halperin was finished in the White House.

Morris may have been the first to know, but within
weeks the word was out: Halperin was being wiretapped,
and he was in trouble. So were two other liberal NSC
aides, Daniel I. Davidson and Richard M. Moose. The messenger was Al Haig. Halperin's demise pleased Laurence E. Lynn, a former Pentagon analyst who had joined Kissinger's staff and immediately engaged in a running battle with Halperin over control of the NSC studies on the

SALT talks; both men were constantly passing memorandums to Kissinger without informing each other. At one point, Lynn was offered another spot in the Nixon Administration and—not being an amateur in the ways of bureaucracy—sought to pass the word to Kissinger through Haig. Haig immediately made it clear that Halperin was on the way out, Lynn recalls. Halperin was in trouble with the President and with Senator Barry Goldwater, Haig said, and was being "monitored." Lynn, who understood what Haig meant, stayed on the job.

Early that summer, Davidson, who also was a holdover
from the Johnson Administration, left the White House
after a talk with Haig, and word quickly filtered through
the staff that Davidson had been caught leaking on a wire-
tap. Larry Eagleburger added to the rumors in these
weeks by confiding to Roger Morris that Halperin's name
had shown up on an intercept by the National Security
Agency of a Japanese Embassy transmission. The NSA
reported that Halperin had been discussing sensitive nego-
tiations over the future status of Okinawa with Japanese
officials in Washington, who had cabled the conversation to
their foreign office in Tokyo. Morris got the impression
from Eagleburger that the White House could have made
a case against Halperin for treason. (Halperin acknowl-
edges holding private talks with the Japanese; such talks,
he says, were also held during the Johnson Administra-
tion, and were always considered to be part of the normal
bargaining process.) By midsummer, too, Moose, a Foreign
Service officer who was known to be a dove on Vietnam,
was reported to be on his way out. Moose had spent five
months in 1966 on a congressional fellowship program in
the office of Senator J. William Fulbright, the Arkansas
Democrat who was chairman of the Senate Foreign Rela-
tions Committee—and Richard Nixon's instant enemy.
Moose also had run afoul of Haig, who viewed Fulbright—
so he told Moose—as a "traitor" to the United States.

Sometime in June, W. Anthony Lake, a young Foreign
Service officer, arrived from a sabbatical at Princeton Uni-
versity to replace the stricken Eagleburger as Kissinger's
special assistant. There was an immediate change in the
office outside Kissinger's office, in the cramped White
House basement quarters. Al Haig moved to Eagle-
burger's desk, a few feet from Kissinger's private office,
and Lake slipped into the desk vacated by Haig. The sig-
nificance of the shift was not lost on the NSC staff, whose
members knew that Haig was getting close to the job
many wanted—that of deputy. Lake later revealed to the
Watergate Special Prosecution Force that within months
he had become aware of the wiretapping and had also be-
gun to suspect that wiretap transcripts were being kept in
a top-secret safe in the Situation Room in the basement of
the White House. The safe, designed for the storage of the
nation's nuclear-targeting materials, as well as the codes to
activate and arm America's nuclear weapons, was under
twenty-four-hour guard.

Lake and Morris, fellow Foreign Service officers, even-

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PAGE 41

tually became close friends, and it wasn't long before Lake
shared his suspicions about the Situation Room safe.

Over the next two years, a number of personal aides
would rotate in and out of Kissinger's immediate office; all
quickly learned that the White House was wiretapping
some of its aides.

KISSINGER QUICKLY SEIZED UPON THE WIRETAPS, not only as a way of proving anew his loyalty to Nixon but also as a means of verifying the personal loyalty of his own staff. Equally important, the wiretapping would enable Kissinger and Nixon to monitor the loyalty of Secretary of Defense Laird.

Inside the National Security Council the hatred for
Laird and his military assistant, Air Force Colonel Robert
Pursley, was palpable. In late April of 1969, Kissinger had
been infuriated by the refusal of Laird and Pursley to go
along with the White House plans for military retaliation
in North Korea after the EC-121 shootdown. There were
other serious disagreements on policy issues—including
nuclear-disarmament talks and the administration's Viet-
namization plans. Laird still insisted, to Kissinger's out-
rage, on making the decisions as to when and where
American troops would be withdrawn from South Viet-
nam. "Cutting out Mel Laird is what we did for a living,"
Larry Lynn says. "Henry used to joke about Laird's horri-
ble syntax. He'd let us listen in on their conversations and
Henry would predict accurately what Laird was going to
say and then make gestures and smirk at us as they
talked." Another senior NSC aide has recalled, with a
laugh, "For a long time, I thought Laird's last name was
'crook.' 'Mel Laird's a crook,' Henry would always say."

Haig's attitude was similar. Charles M. Cooke, Jr., a former Pentagon official who joined the staff of Elliot L. Richardson, then an undersecretary of state, recalled a lunch later in 1969 with Al Haig in the White House mess. It was his first meeting with Haig, who initiated the conversation by reminiscing about his relationship with Cooke's father, a four-star admiral who had briefed General Douglas MacArthur's staff in Japan before the Korean War. Haig was then a junior officer on the MacArthur staff. It began as a pleasant conversation, Cooke recalls. "I didn't know much about Haig. Then he starts telling me what a traitor Mel Laird is. Haig said, 'He's a traitor to the country and will destroy the Armed Forces.'" The appalled Cooke said

nothing as Haig continued to rail. "Haig said Laird was
trying to destroy our capability to destroy our enemies and
our capability to hit North Vietnam," Cooke recalls. One
specific complaint stood out, he says; Haig cited Laird's
effort to recall the Air Force's F-105 fighter-bombers from
duty over North Vietnam because of the planes' high loss
rate in combat. A similar proposal had been debated hotly
in the Johnson Administration.

Haig's complaint stood out because Cooke, who had been
a major in the Air Force and had taught at the Air Force
Academy in Colorado Springs for years, agreed with
Laird's view. After lunch, Cooke says, "my decision was
that I could not deal with Al Haig—and I never did deal
with him again."

It is only against this background of distrust and in-
trigue that the earliest group of White House wiretaps can
be assessed. The first man to be wiretapped was Halperin,
whose home telephone was under surveillance shortly
after 6 P.M. on the evening of May 9, three days before
Attorney General Mitchell formally signed the FBI au-
thorization for the tap. Three other wiretaps—on Dan Da-
vidson, Helmut Sonnenfeldt, and Bob Pursley—were in-
stalled on May 12. (Sonnenfeldt, a Soviet specialist, had
known Kissinger for many years and had been among the
first to be invited to join the NSC staff.) On May 20, NSC
staff members Richard Sneider and Dick Moose, the for-
mer Fulbright aide, were wiretapped.

Haig, with his simplistic view that those who were
against the war were enemies of the state, may indeed
have believed that the taps were a necessity. But Kis-
singer knew better. For him, the wiretaps provided a secu-
rity blanket, more proof to Nixon, Hoover, and Mitchell
that he could be trusted. Kissinger was an ardent leaker
himself and knew, as any senior national-security official in
Washington quickly learns, what to say and what not to
say on the telephone.

Halperin summed up the situation in an interview years
after the wiretapping: "The notion that you can find out
who's leaking and the notion—which Henry keeps putting
forward—that you can prove that somebody was not leak-
ing or exonerate somebody by tapping their phone is abso-
lutely preposterous. I'm not going to come home at night
and dial Bill Beecher and say, 'Hey, Bill, we're bombing
Cambodia.' I'm sure the FBI knows that Beecher lives
about ten minutes from me, and in that particular year we
happened to have theater tickets together with our wives.
We used to drive down to the Arena Stage [a Washington
theater] together, and, obviously, if I was going to tell him
anything, which I wasn't, I would have done so on a grassy
knoll near the Arena Stage and not on the telephone. You
just don't find out whether people are leaking by wiretap-
ping, and I think they knew it, too."

The wiretap on Colonel Pursley must have been one of
the most important ones to Kissinger. Kissinger and Nixon
believed, and continued to believe throughout Nixon's first
term, that Laird was constantly leaking stories in an effort

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MAY 1982

to ingratiate himself with the press as a secret dove and to
fight Kissinger's growing power. The other wiretaps
served a multitude of purposes for Kissinger. To begin
with, four of those tapped—Davidson, Halperin, Sneider,
and Sonnenfeldt—were Jewish; tapping them not only
played into the anti-Semitism in the Oval Office but also
demonstrated that Kissinger was able to rise above his re-
ligious background, a point Kissinger needed to prove if he
was to have any influence on Middle East policy. In addi-
tion, Davidson was considered to be a protégé of W. Aver-
ell Harriman, a senior Democratic statesman, and Kiss-
singer, by agreeing to that wiretap, would have a new
window on the Democratic establishment, a group that he
was privately beseeching not to criticize the Nixon poli-
cies. And finally, and perhaps most important, the wire-
taps on Moose, Sneider, Davidson, and Halperin would tell
much about what those men—all known to favor a quickly
negotiated settlement in Vietnam—thought of him.

On May 20—according to one of William Sullivan's
memorandums to Hoover—Kissinger and Haig came to
the FBI offices in downtown Washington to read wiretap
logs. The Sullivan memorandum says: "On doing this, he
[Kissinger] said 'it is clear that I don't have anybody in my
office that I can trust except Colonel Haig here.' He men-
tioned that he was under great pressures to adopt a soft
line on foreign policy. But he said he is not going to do so."
Kissinger later denied making the visit, and Sullivan
would testify that he had no recollection of it. But the
memorandum, found in the FBI files during an inquiry into
the wiretaps four years later, remains.

The next stage was to begin wiretapping newsmen. By
September, Kissinger and Haig had forwarded the names
of three—Henry Brandon, of *The London Sunday Times*,
Marvin Kalb, of CBS News, and Hedrick Smith, of *The
New York Times*—to the FBI. Brandon and Kalb were
close to Kissinger and were direct recipients of many brief-
ings and leaks. National security surely was not a rationale
for the wiretaps on them, since Kissinger knew that he
was the source of much of their classified information. J.
Edgar Hoover had long considered Brandon, who was
born in Czechoslovakia, to be an agent for the Czech and
British intelligence services, and Richard Nixon and a
group of aides in the White House were told by, of all peo-
ple, Henry Kissinger, late in 1969, that Kalb was an agent
of the Rumanian government.

Kissinger knew the allegations against Kalb and Bran-
don were preposterous. His interest in the wiretaps had
nothing to do with such beliefs but was personal: he was
playing to the President's prejudices in an effort to ingrati-
ate himself further. He also wanted to learn the identities
of Brandon's and Kalb's other sources in the government
and perhaps to find out as well what the two reporters
were saying behind his back. There was another reason,
perhaps irresistible to the White House, for the Brandon
wiretap: monitoring the private life of Senator Edward M.
Kennedy. Brandon's wife, Mabel, was extremely friendly

with Joan Kennedy, and many of their most intimate con-
versations were monitored by the FBI. (Not everything
got to the White House, however. The Watergate prosecu-
tors later learned that one highly personal discussion of
Mrs. Kennedy's "problems with Teddy" was typed up and
delivered to Courtland J. Jones, a supervisor in the FBI's
Washington field office, for transmission to higher officials.
Jones told the prosecutors that he destroyed the transcript
instead of sending it to the White House. "I knew what
those people would do with this stuff," he explained.)
Brandon, who was one of the few reporters in Washington
to have some access to Nixon, was also known to be talking
to Halperin. The FBI had gone beyond mere wiretaps in
the case; its agents were able to supply the White House
with photographs of the two meeting for lunch in down-
town Washington.

In his testimony to the Senate Foreign Relations Com-
mittee, Kissinger suggested that the wiretap on Brandon
may have been aimed at him. "I must have been tapped
frequently on that tap, because Brandon was the only jour-
nalist I knew socially when I came to Washington, and I
spoke to him very frequently and I had no conceivable in-
terest in tapping Brandon." There is no evidence, how-
ever, that Kissinger was a target of the FBI or of the Oval
Office in those early months of the Nixon Administration.
His close aides, such as Larry Eagleburger and Al Haig,
were not wiretapped, although they, theoretically, also had
access to the most sensitive information about the EC-121
incident and the B-52 bombings. And, as Kissinger also
knew, Eagleburger was among those who had been leaking
to favored columnists and reporters. By the spring of 1969,
for example, Eagleburger had established rapport with
Robert Novak, one of the authors of the widely syndicated
Evans & Novak column, and, at Kissinger's direction, had
begun passing along a series of leaks. "We called it 'feeding
the animals,'" says Morris.

THE WIRETAP ON HEDRICK SMITH PROVIDES THE most evidence of Kissinger's direct role. The tap was authorized on June 4, 1969, the same day Smith reported in the *Times* that a summit meeting between Nixon and President Nguyen Van Thieu of South Vietnam—previously scheduled for June 8 at Midway Island—might result in an announcement that the number of American troops in Vietnam would be reduced. By that

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PAGE 43

late date, however, the Nixon Administration's tentative
decision to begin withdrawing American troops had been
widely reported. Of perhaps more significance was Smith's
exclusive dispatch in the *Times* of the day before revealing
that Nixon was willing to return Okinawa to Japanese con-
trol and withdraw American nuclear weapons from the
American bases there. Smith did not report, however, the
essence of the bargain, which assured continued American
use of the Okinawa bases. The Smith story was published
six days after issuance of top-secret National Security De-
cision Memorandum Number 13 by the White House. "Our
fallback position was thus in print before our negotiations
had even begun," Kissinger complained in his memoirs.
Nixon also singled out the Smith story for complaint in his
memoirs.

On June 4, Kissinger had a previously scheduled meeting with Hoover at the FBI, and before it Haig, ever the alert deputy, presented his boss with a memorandum (marked "Top Secret—Sensitive") summarizing some of the issues to be discussed. Kissinger was first to express his appreciation to Hoover and William Sullivan "for their outstanding support in recent weeks in uncovering security problems within the NSC," Haig wrote. Kissinger was also to ask Hoover "for his views on how we should proceed with Halperin, who has been involved in indiscretions and who obviously has a reputation for liberal views but who has yet to be firmly linked with a security breach." Finally, Kissinger was to ask Hoover "if he has any additional information or guidance which he feels would be helpful in this very difficult situation."

There was one other problem, Haig's memorandum
suggested. Nixon was seemingly having second thoughts
about the wiretapping, and Haig urged Kissinger to "in-
quire about the requirement for prolonging the taps, mak-
ing it clear that the President wishes to terminate them as
soon as possible." Haig added that it was his opinion that
the wiretaps on Halperin and another NSC staff member
"should be kept on for at least another two weeks so that a
pattern of innocence can be firmly established." In Halper-
in's case, the wiretaps remained on until February of 1971,
a total of twenty-one months, more than enough time to
prove his innocence.

After that meeting, about which no memorandums have
been made public, William Sullivan authorized the Smith
wiretap, specifically mentioning Kissinger as the official
who made the request—the only time Kissinger was so
named in the FBI's wiretap files. Sullivan wrote, "Today
Dr. Kissinger requested that a telephone surveillance be
placed on Hedrick Smith, who has been in contact with
individuals on whom we have telephone coverage in this
case." In his 1974 Senate testimony, Kissinger discussed an
FBI report that Smith had been overheard talking to Dan
Davidson on wiretaps. But neither he nor any other gov-
ernment official was able to supply evidence linking those
conversations to any of Smith's stories.

Smith's dispatches came at a trying time for Kissinger.

There was renewed pressure from Nixon over leaks. And
Mel Laird was still insisting on the implementation of his
Vietnamization plan. That plan, which called for the South
Vietnamese army to take over the function of American
troops as they were withdrawn, was initially viewed by
Kissinger as an insurmountable drawback to his Vietnam
negotiating strategy. How could he negotiate a mutual
withdrawal of United States and North Vietnamese forces
when Laird and Nixon were beginning to withdraw troops
unilaterally?

It seems clear, based on Kissinger's own statements to
the press and to various inquiries, that Smith's two stories
preoccupied Kissinger when he visited Hoover in his office
at 9:30 A.M. on June 4. Yet, in his 1974 testimony to the
Senate, Kissinger said he could not remember whether
they came up. "I am confident I did not . . . request a tap
from Mr. Hoover," Kissinger testified, "but what else was
said in this conversation would be very hard for me to re-
construct. These conversations one has to see in the con-
text. It is the wrong idea to assume that one went to Mr.
Hoover who passively listened to descriptions of security
violations and then reluctantly went along with orders.
Usually what happened was that the Director would give
one an enormous amount of alleged security violations to
which one tried to make a more or less reasonable re-
sponse." Hoover had died in 1972, so Kissinger could speak
without fear of contradiction.

Kissinger had no fears about what he said over the tele-
phone: he knew that William Sullivan and the others in-
volved in the FBI would be terrified, as would any careful
bureaucrat, at the prospect of confronting a superior in the
White House with evidence of possible indiscretions. Dur-
ing the twenty-one months that Mort Halperin's home
telephone was wiretapped, the FBI sent thirty-four let-
ters to Kissinger, Nixon, and H. R. Haldeman, Nixon's
chief of staff and closest aide, summarizing the information
overheard. Nothing was reported, however, about an ex-
tensive phone conversation Halperin and Kissinger had on
a Saturday afternoon in early August of 1969. By
then, Halperin had been wiretapped for three months and
no incriminating information had been obtained. Yet Kis-
singer had been increasingly isolating him from classified
materials inside the NSC, and Halperin was on the verge
of resignation. Kissinger spoke very frankly that Saturday
in urging Halperin to stay, knowing that his remarks were
being overheard, because he had placed the call to Hal-
perin at his home. Kissinger's statements would have out-
raged President Nixon, if made available to him, and
would have threatened Kissinger's Oval Office standing.
In the FBI transcript of that August conversation, Kis-
singer was quoted as praising Halperin's work as extraor-
dinary and urging him not to leave the White House. Kis-
singer even promised to talk about Halperin's role with
Nixon and Attorney General Mitchell—a promise that he
knew he could not keep—to see "if they feel we can't tailor
something [for Halperin] right now."

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MAY 1982

The conversation was sheer hokum on Kissinger's part; his only concern was to ensure that Halperin kept his peace. Nonetheless, Kissinger obviously would not have held such a conversation if he thought there was any chance that the FBI would routinely forward a summary to Nixon. It is unlikely that the precise details of the arrangement between the top level of the FBI and Kissinger's office ever will be known, but Kissinger obviously felt free to talk on the telephone to those of his staff—and various reporters—whom he knew to be wiretapped. His enemy in all of this was not Hoover.

Al Haig's conversations also were insulated. None of his telephone talks with Bob Pursley, many of which, Pursley recalls, dealt with classified information, were included in the FBI telephone transcripts. (Pursley did discover, upon reviewing his transcripts years later, that the FBI had been quick, however, to raise doubts about him. In mid-1970, he had taken a brief vacation, his first in years, with his wife. On the morning after his return to work, Mrs. Pursley telephoned and asked him how it felt to be back. "Miserable," said Pursley, not unnaturally. "I wish I wasn't here." At this point in the transcript of the call, an FBI agent noted: "He appears to be a disgruntled employee." Similarly, Morton Halperin's wife, Ina, was constantly telling callers that her telephone was wiretapped. In one conversation with a close relative in the fall of 1969, Mrs. Halperin suddenly exclaimed, "You hear that beeping?" At this point in the FBI logs, the agent preparing the transcripts noted parenthetically: "There isn't any beeping on the line. Ina has a complex her phone is being tapped.")

In a conversation in 1973, conducted at the time on a not-for-attribution basis, William Sullivan told me that none of the wiretaps produced any evidence of NSC wrongdoing. "There wasn't one member of the staff who was disloyal to the country. But they were disloyal to Kissinger, and they were giving him real problems. Some of them began to disagree with him and they weren't with him." (Sullivan was killed in a hunting accident near his home in New Hampshire in November of 1977, six years after he resigned from the FBI.)

Richard Nixon, according to a transcript of a White House tape recording that was made public during the 1974 impeachment hearings, strongly suggested that it was Kissinger who urged the wiretapping. Discussing the wiretaps on Halperin and Tony Lake (who was not wiretapped until 1970), Nixon said, "I know that he [Kissinger] asked that it be done. And I assumed that it was. Lake and Halperin. They're both bad. But the taps were, too. They never helped us. Just gobs and gobs of material: gossip and bullshitting—the tapping was a very, very unproductive thing...."

In his various public statements, Nixon has consistently said that his approval of the wiretaps was based on grounds of national security. Kissinger has also cited national security in defense of his involvement. During his 1974 testimony before the Senate Foreign Relations Com-

mittee, Kissinger was asked whether any of his aides were fired because of indiscretions. His full answer, not included by the committee in its published hearings, amounted to innuendo. "As a result of this program, there were two violations that I remember," Kissinger testified. "In the case of one person, he was separated from the staff over a period of months in such a way that it did not appear that he'd been fired for a security violation. I thought it was an indiscretion. I did not want to blight his whole career, so first I had him transferred out of the National Security Council to another government position and suggested to him as a friend that he resign after a decent interval. . . . It was clearly an indiscretion, but I did not want to have him blighted."

Kissinger was referring to Dan Davidson, a fact privately conveyed to me years later by Al Haig. But Davidson was never accused of any leaks, nor was he transferred to another job, nor, he says, did he have a conversation with Kissinger in which he was advised to "resign after a decent interval." In fact, Davidson recalls being intensely loyal to Kissinger then. "At that early stage, most of us liked him very much," Davidson says. "He was a hypnotic guy." Davidson was told by Al Haig in mid-1969 that his resignation was desired, and he was offered his choice of a new post. He left government instead to begin practicing law in Washington.

In his classified testimony to the Senate, Kissinger also told of the second alleged security violation, which was Halperin's. "In the case of another person, we suddenly separated him from classified documents to a point he felt he wanted to resign, but that was an attempt on my part to minimize the damage to the individuals themselves," Kissinger said. "If they had been overwhelming security violations, we would have thrown them out. They were borderline cases, where you erred on the side of protecting the security but did not feel justified in blighting the whole career of the man."

In 1976, in testimony in connection with a suit filed by Halperin that year, Kissinger significantly altered his account. He testified that as of August, 1969, when he had the extended discussion with Halperin and urged him to stay on at the NSC, "I had no information that would make me—on security grounds—make me change my mind about keeping him." It was "my judgment" that Halperin was not a security risk, Kissinger said.

BY THE FALL OF 1969, KISSINGER HAD STRIPPED his staff of many of those who were deemed to be offensive to the man in the Oval Office. Halperin formally resigned in September, Sneider and Davidson were long gone. All left quietly. Coping with Nixon, pleasing him, and trying to find out what he really wanted were always the most important priorities for Kissinger. If his staff was too Jewish and too liberal for Nixon and his chief aides, Kissinger made the necessary adjustments.

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More and more subservient, even fawning, to his patron, Kissinger was increasingly vicious and outspoken outside the Oval Office. The backbiting grew intense by the end of the year. Secretary of State Rogers was a "fag" who had some strange hold over the President; Mel Laird was a megalomaniac who constantly leaked anti-Kissinger stories to the press; and Richard Nixon was a secret drunk of dubious intelligence.

There was a steady stream of private inventive from Kissinger, and his personal aides heard it all. One of his major obsessions in the first year was Bill Rogers. At one time Kissinger told his staff that a prominent Georgetown columnist had confided to him that Rogers was keeping a house in Georgetown with a young male paramour in it. (The aides knew that such stories were absurd but also felt that Kissinger to some degree wanted to believe them.) Morris and others who were trusted by Kissinger eventually ended up working on Kissinger's private diary, which was transcribed and edited daily. On some days, Morris says, the Kissinger entries filled fifteen pages—not with high-level diplomatic strategy but with low-level gossip.

"We caught glimpses of Nixon, Laird, Rogers, and Kissinger in action," Morris says. "Nixon drank exceptionally at night and there were many nights when you couldn't reach him at Camp David." The diary was treated as if it were the most sensitive document in the government—which it may have been. Morris recalls that it was stored in an electronically protected safe in Kissinger's office along with materials from the secret Paris negotiations with North Vietnam.

"It was a goldmine of bureaucratic duplicity and maestro," Morris says. "When Henry went home at night, he didn't discuss policy; he discussed the nature of people. He is really interested in personalities and their weaknesses; he analyzed issues and people the way a good boxer analyzes his opponent's boxing style." The diary was replete with evidence that Kissinger privately held many of his colleagues in contempt, Morris says.

Morris often listened in on Kissinger's conversations with an obviously drunk Nixon. "There were many times when a cable would come in late and Henry would say, 'There's no sense waking him up—he'd be incoherent,'" Morris recalls. The young aide was frightened by the idea of a President who was not fully competent after sundown. He often wondered what would happen if the Soviet Union attacked at night.

Morris said nothing to his outside friends about such goings-on. "It's hard to explain," he said later. "It's a constant barrage. You go around taking it for granted that Nixon's nuts. Henry and others go around wringing their hands for the President and saying Rogers is a fag. After a while, you lose your perspective. You don't feel a sense of outrage. All of the things that you think about later—the drunkenness, the wiretapping—you've become inured to while in the White House. It isn't a matter of constant moral torment when you're there."

Kissinger on more than one occasion told his personal staff about his first formal White House reception and his first meeting with Mrs. Nixon. He naturally began to praise the President lavishly, but Mrs. Nixon leaned over and interrupted him by saying, "Haven't you seen through him yet?" Morris recalls that Kissinger would tell the anecdote to the staff and joke about it, "as if to say, 'This man is not stable.'"

"It's a curious paradox about Henry," Morris says. "Nobody schemed or planned more than Kissinger about his enemies—and yet nobody was as careless. He didn't really conceal his contempt for all of these people, except in face-to-face dealings."

Colonel Bob Pursley similarly recalls that Kissinger and Haig would seek his support, and the support of Laird, for a White House stratagem "by telling me, 'We've got a madman on our hands.' They'd always say that to me; it was a continual thing."

Just how serious was Nixon's drinking problem? Many of his former associates and aides, such as Charles W. Colson, dismiss its significance by saying that the President had a notoriously low capacity for alcohol, and would slur his words and appear to be somewhat drunk after one or two highballs. Yet John Ehrlichman recalls that he had refused to work on Nixon's presidential campaign in 1968 unless Nixon promised to stop drinking. "Nixon promised to lay off during the campaign and he did," Ehrlichman says. "There were times when he got drunk—no question about it. But it wasn't that frequent, and he had a sense of when he was on and when he was off."

Another close aide to Kissinger recalls, however, that Nixon always seemed to be "off" during his many weekends at the Florida White House in Key Biscayne. On those weekends, Nixon spent an inordinate amount of time drinking martinis with two old cronies, Charles G. (Bebe) Rebozo and Robert Abplanalp. "To the extent there was a problem," the aide recalls, "it was very real in Key Biscayne." Kissinger's main concern during those Florida weekend trips, which were working weekends for the National Security Adviser and his staff, was avoiding social encounters with the Nixon entourage. "We always played hard to get for Nixon," the aide says; his job was to find a way to say no without saying no. On occasion, Nixon himself would telephone with a request, and Kissinger would go. One night in Miami, Nixon stopped an attractive woman as he left a restaurant—after having had a few drinks too many—and offered her a job in the White House. "She looks like she's built for you, Henry," the President said. The Kissinger aide learned of the encounter from a Secret Service man. "Hearing this kind of a thing made my veins hurt," the aide says. "The President of the United States, drunk in a restaurant, making crude remarks and engaging in familiarity with a strange woman in a public place—all clearly attributable to martinis . . ." Nonetheless, the aide says, "I didn't think of his drinking as a real problem—although you sort of wondered what would happen if there

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was ever a nuclear threat." Most of the time, he says, "it was one of the things you knew about in terms of handling papers—'Oh, no, this is not the time to get him to sign these.'"

Whatever the truth, Kissinger's personal aides—who rarely saw Nixon—were convinced that they were dealing with a defective President, and Kissinger did little to reassure them.

Keeping certain people cut off from the flow of information was a way of life in the Kissinger White House. Most of Kissinger's staff in the Old Executive Office Building simply did not know what he was doing. Mort Halperin recalls that the process began early. "The President's trip to Asia [in July and August] was planned and conceived without the guy in charge of Asia knowing about it. The guy working on Vietnam did not know about the President's letter to Ho Chi Minh [in July]. The Kissinger operation right from the beginning was a one-man operation with a couple of staff guys."

At a much more trusted level were Kissinger's personal staff aides, who included at varying times in 1969 Eagleburger, Haig, and Tony Lake. In August, William Watts, one of Kissinger's former colleagues from the 1968 Rockefeller presidential campaign, arrived to replace Dick Moose as staff secretary. He, too, was given a position of trust, and spent much of his time in the West Wing basement offices when Kissinger was traveling. These men not only saw all of the highly classified documents that streamed into Kissinger's office but were also very much aware of his effort to isolate other staff members and the bureaucracy from the decision-making process. These men further saw many of the FBI documents that were sent by Hoover to Kissinger, including the wiretap summaries. The office secretary, and occasionally one of the personal aides, monitored Kissinger's telephone conversations with the President and other officials in and out of the White House. Kissinger's personal staff was also responsible for drafting and monitoring the flow of memorandums from Kissinger to Nixon.

Many of the NSC staff members got a chance to see Nixon in action in the first few months, usually at the National Security Council meetings. Nixon was impressive. Staff members recalled that he seemed to have done his homework and understood the intricacies of the foreign-policy issues under discussion.

Within a few months, however, as Nixon and Kissinger tightened their hold on the bureaucracy, the formal meetings were recast as caricatures—ritualistic devices by which the President could be exposed to his Cabinet and his senior advisers under tightly controlled conditions. By mid-1969, Kissinger was ordering his staff to include the admonishment that "no decisions will be made here" in presidential briefing papers submitted prior to the NSC meetings.

By then, too, Nixon seemed to be giving far less attention to the formal meetings, and far less attention to his

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homework—the many studies and documents prepared by the NSC staff. The talking papers prepared for Nixon prior to formal Security Council meetings soon began to include word-for-word dialogue. One staff aide vividly recalls the first of many such papers he wrote for Nixon: "It was like a first-grade primer—'Run, Spot, Run' kind of thing," the aide says. In his script, Nixon began the meeting by saying, "Gentlemen: Today we are dealing with etc., etc. There are four issues: first, we have etc., etc." After stating the issues, Nixon was to call on Kissinger and ask him to summarize the available options. When Kissinger had done so, the script called for Nixon to say, "Thank you, Dr. Kissinger." Then Nixon was to say, "Now it's Mr. So-and-so's turn," the aide says, and bring in a Cabinet member for discussion. The astonishing thing, the aide recalls, was that Nixon followed the script exactly.

Kissinger's NSC staff mushroomed to 114 members and secretaries by fall. One addition was particularly vital to the National Security Adviser—that of Peter W. Rodman, his former student from Harvard University. From the moment of Rodman's arrival, some of Kissinger's close aides understood that his mission was to assemble and prepare the documents for Kissinger's memoirs. "He indexed everything that came in," Roger Morris recalls. Morris later became convinced that another Rodman mission was to be ready to "evacuate the personal files" within hours if Kissinger ever felt that he was on the verge of being forced out by Haldeman and Ehrlichman. Even as early as 1970, Morris says, Rodman was routinely shipping the most sensitive Kissinger files to Nelson Rockefeller's estate at Pontecito Hills, New York.

By then, the bureaucratic intrigue and personal betrayal in the National Security Council were taking their toll. "There was a dawning recognition that this was a frightening place," Larry Lynn recalls. "It was like walking into a room with a bad odor. After a while you get inured. You realized that this is not the way the government should work. I had to do a lot of things out of loyalty to Henry that I preferred not to do—the secrecy, the confinement of activities to certain agencies, the confinement of communications to certain people, the centralization of power. Henry used to kid me a lot. He used to say, 'You've got too much integrity.' "

> Many of the young NSC staff members had joined Kissinger in the hope that, somehow, he and Nixon would do what Lyndon Johnson could not: reverse America's policy in Southeast Asia, as Nixon had promised in the 1968 campaign. Instead, to the dismay of the aides, the White House came perilously close in the fall of 1969 to a drastic escalation of the war. Nixon and Kissinger planned an operation—code-named Duck Hook—that would have led to the mining of Haiphong harbor and the B-52 bombing of major cities, including Hanoi and Haiphong. The offensive was canceled at the last moment by Nixon, after a

> huge anti-war demonstration in Washington on October 15. The young aides clung to hope even as such planning continued. Kissinger began his secret peace talks in Paris with Le Duc Tho, a member of North Vietnam's ruling politburo, and there were renewed contacts with the People's Republic of China. In late April of 1970, Nixon and Kissinger decided to invade Cambodia. Tony Lake, Roger Morris, and Bill Watts immediately resigned. Larry Lynn's resignation came later. The aides were convinced that the White House's policy of threats and escalation in Cambodia and elsewhere would not work; the war was still in the south, and had to be resolved there. Inside the White House that spring there was talk not of negotiation but of victory. Nixon and Kissinger were determined to show Hanoi's leaders—and the Soviet Union—that they were willing to risk all to bring North Vietnam to its knees.

THE WHITE HOUSE WAS STUNNED BY THE INTENSITY of the outcry over the President's decision to extend the war to Cambodia. The nation was suddenly alive, once again, with protests against the war and against the men running it. The pressure grew on May 3, when Bill Beecher of the *Times* reported that Nixon had renewed the bombing of North Vietnam; the President had ordered the most intensive raids since the bombing-halt agreement that was negotiated by the Johnson Administration shortly before the 1968 elections. Kissinger had unsuccessfully sought to prevent the article's publication with a personal plea to Max Frankel, Washington bureau chief of the *Times*, and when that failed, he and Nixon turned again to wiretaps.

On the evening of May 2, shortly after Kissinger first learned of the Beecher story, Beecher's article was cited as a "serious security violation" by Al Haig in a formal request to the FBI for four more wiretaps. This time Kissinger and Nixon were going for broke, seeking to learn who inside the administration was loyal and who was not. Bob Pursley was to be wiretapped again at home and in his office, the real target clearly being Mel Laird. Richard Petersen, a State Department counselor who was known to be close to Bill Rogers, was also to be wiretapped at home and at work; he shared two private lines on his desk with the Secretary of State. William H. Sullivan (no kin to the FBI deputy), the former ambassador to Laos who was then a deputy assistant secretary of state, was on the list. And finally, Bill Beecher, whose articles since early 1969 had been a source of grief for the White House, was to be wiretapped, Haig told the FBI, at home and at the *New York Times* offices. However, taps through the large switchboard at a newspaper or a government agency were not feasible, and were not installed. The FBI wiretaps on the four men stayed on until February 10, 1971.

Kissinger explained in his 1974 testimony to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee that all four men were wiretapped because they had access "to the information, to

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sensitive information that had leaked," and thus could logically be considered suspects. In fact, as Kissinger had to know, none of the four—not even Beecher—was aware of the real secret involved in the May 3 story: Laird had not authorized the bombing but had been bypassed.

On May 9, the White House wiretaps produced a conversation between Mort Halperin and Daniel Ellsberg, a former Pentagon official and Vietnam analyst for the Rand Corporation who had worked briefly for Kissinger early in 1969. Ellsberg was renowned inside the government as a former hawk who had turned against the war, and who now was telling all who would listen that the war could not be won. Halperin told Ellsberg, so the wiretap revealed, that he had decided after the invasion of Cambodia to sever all ties to the National Security Council. At the time, Halperin still was a consultant to the White House. Halperin also told Ellsberg, according to an FBI transcript of their talk, that "the major and most certain consequence" of the Cambodian invasion "is that a large number of Cambodian civilians will be killed and labeled Viet Cong." Two days later, J. Edgar Hoover rushed Nixon and Kissinger "Eyes Only" letters reporting Halperin's views. Earlier, Halperin had been overheard informing a caller that Mel Laird and Bill Rogers had disagreed with Nixon's decision on Cambodia. Halperin also said, as Hoover reported to the White House, that "in his opinion the President had never had the intention of getting out of Vietnam." He added, "The only effective way to oppose the present policy is to elect a Congress which will stop the war by cutting off funds."

Nixon, Kissinger, and Haig have given conflicting accounts of what happened next, but it is known that the Halperin intercepts led to a frenzy of high-level action. On May 12, the FBI was requested by Haig, who cited Kissinger's name, to wiretap two more members of the NSC staff—Tony Lake, who had announced his forthcoming resignation, and Winston Lord, a Halperin protégé who had proved his mettle in Kissinger's and Haig's eyes by not joining the others in resigning over Cambodia. Lake and Lord were wiretapped for the next nine months.

On May 13, Hoover attended a White House meeting with Nixon and Haldeman, and perhaps others, at which he was told to deal only with Haldeman on the White House wiretaps from then on. Kissinger and his office were no longer to be included on the mailing list for wiretap summaries. On that day, too, Hoover provided the White House with some of the FBI's verbatim logs of the Halperin wiretaps upon which the summaries had been made.

At this point, Kissinger had reached a new height of power and authority inside the Nixon White House, and it was inconceivable that Nixon would punish him by stripping him of direct access to the wiretap information. One obvious factor in the procedural change was Tony Lake, who was going to remain on the NSC staff for the next few months, and thus might learn of FBI reports on his own

wiretap—just as he had learned of the wiretaps on others. Similarly, Winston Lord was going to be playing a far greater role in Kissinger's immediate office, something that Kissinger surely knew, and would also be exposed to the FBI records. Lake was wiretapped not for any indiscretion but because of what he knew and the White House's fear that he would begin talking—which he did not. Lord had been brought into the National Security Council by Halperin, for whom he had worked in the Pentagon, and was thus a prima facie suspect in the hysteria over Mort Halperin that persisted in the Oval Office.

What is baffling about the history of the White House bureaucratic maneuvering on May 13 is how all the principals lied about it in subsequent investigations and managed to get away with the lies. President Nixon told J. Edgar Hoover, as reported in an FBI memorandum, that Haldeman was to be the sole recipient of the wiretap summaries "inasmuch as the President is anxious to cut down leaks that are occurring at the present time." In his deposition in the Halperin wiretap lawsuit, however, Nixon volunteered a different reason for making the change: "General Haig came in to see me. He expressed great concern about Dr. Kissinger's very emotional and very concerned reactions to the Cambodian action, not that he was opposing it . . . He said we have simply got to get some of the load off. . . . He wanted it transferred to someone else and suggested that it might be Mr. Haldeman." But Haig, in his deposition, said that he had learned of the switch in policy only when Kissinger told him about it. Kissinger "said the decision has been made that we are out of it and there was a decision that I welcomed," Haig testified. In testimony before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee a few months earlier, however, Haig acknowledged, "I had urged Henry to disassociate the National Security Council staff, meaning me or anybody else, from what was essentially an internal-security matter. . . . I know he either took that matter up with the President or Mr. Haldeman or somebody outside of our office, and he informed me that we would in fact be out of it." Kissinger, in his Senate testimony, explained that the transfer to Haldeman's office "was no climactic event. During the course of the spring it had become clear to me that while I was getting occasional reports, I was in no position to do anything with these reports and I would just look at them and throw them into my out basket. I, therefore, pointed out on a number of occasions to the President that my office would serve best if it concentrated on foreign-policy matters and if internal-security matters were shifted somewhere else." After Cambodia, Kissinger said, "when I had mass resignations from my staff . . . I believed then that it was probably decided that the combination of my preference and some of the difficulties that had existed on my staff made it desirable to accede to my recommendation and shift it to another office. I was informed of this as a routine matter several days later. . . . The President never spoke to me about it."

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Kissinger did not testify about a communication be-
tween his office and John Mitchell that may have explained
why he was anxious to get out of the wiretap business. In
an interview with the FBI after the Watergate scandal
broke out, Mitchell recalled discussing the White House
wiretaps with either Haig or Kissinger or both. The FBI
quoted Mitchell as agreeing with Haig and/or Kissinger
that "the wiretaps could become 'explosive'" and that the
whole wiretap operation was "a dangerous game we were
playing." Mitchell later told me that, in his opinion, Kiss-
singer simply "wanted to get out" of the wiretap oper-
ations that spring. "He was just ducking—running for cov-
er," Mitchell said.

Exactly what provoked the procedural change remains a
mystery. The change did remove Kissinger from direct
control of the wiretap operation. By then, his NSC staff
had been purged: those who were malcontents or dis-
affected had already left his office or were in the process of
resigning. Morris, Lake, Watts, and Lynn would be re-
placed over the next few months by aides who were far
less mercurial, independent, and brilliant—but far more
trustworthy, from Kissinger's point of view. The new NSC
aides would learn to follow orders without question. Cam-
bodia was a watershed for Kissinger; no longer would he
permit himself to become personally fond of those on his
staff as he had of Lake and Morris. Kissinger also began to
delegate to Al Haig much more of the work in handling the
NSC staff members and their papers.

BY JUNE, HAIG, NOW A BRIGADIER GENERAL, had finally been appointed as Kissinger's deputy and was firmly in charge of the day-to-day work of the National Security Council staff. Kissinger continued to operate his office on the same principle: ruthless exclusion of staff members from any contact with Richard Nixon. He was able to do so in mid-1970 with one exception: Alexander Haig. Haig's relationship with Nixon had become close after Cambodia, a period in which Haig was outspoken inside the White House in defense of the invasion. Haig's militarism and his hard-line approach to foreign-policy problems, which Kissinger had seized upon as a shield, were attractive and reassuring to Nixon. Haig began appearing more frequently on Nixon's appointments calendar, as maintained by the Secret Service, in early April of 1970. One of Kissinger's personal aides recalls, with a visible shudder, the first time the President telephoned Haig directly: "There was more tension than I can ever recall in that office," he says. Kissinger was in his outer office, conferring with his secretary, Julie Pineau, when Nixon's direct line rang. "Julie picked it up," the aide says, "and Henry started walking back to his office. [Kissinger always took the President's calls in privacy.] Julie said, 'It's for you, General Haig.' Haig went to his office and Henry stood by the door [of Haig's office] as Haig and Nixon talked." After a moment or two, the aide says,

Kissinger resignedly "walked into his office and shut the door. He stayed in there for hours." Haig, meanwhile, was "drenched in sweat" by the time he concluded the presidential call. The aide was convinced that neither Haig nor Kissinger discussed the call that day. "From Henry's point of view, someone else now had access to the President," the aide says—and thus Kissinger had suffered a loss of his personal power.

Kissinger's concern about Haig's rise in influence must
have created doubts, but he could not afford to turn on
Haig openly, for the same reason that Nixon eventually
was unable to turn on Kissinger: each knew too much
about the other. Kissinger knew that Haig was a double-
dealer who had ingratiated himself with Nixon and Halde-
man and other senior aides by savaging Kissinger behind
his back and spying on him. But Kissinger also knew that
Haig's expertise on the Pentagon was invaluable if he and
Nixon were going to maintain their ability to circumvent
Laird and Pursley and directly order military action in the
Middle East or in Southeast Asia. Haig could also be trust-
ed to execute orders conscientiously and discreetly in the
back channel. Haig, on his part, was aware of the compli-
cations in the Nixon-Kissinger relationship in a way no
one else in the White House could be: he was constantly
hearing each man's complaints about the other. Nixon did
enjoy the savaging of Kissinger that repeatedly went on in
his office, Haig knew, but the President also realized that
among his aides only Kissinger had the intellectual stam-
ina and the deviousness to be successful at conducting si-
multaneous back-channel negotiations with the Soviets
and the Chinese. Haig also understood in early 1971 that
future promotions lay with Kissinger as much as with the
President.

Kissinger and Haig also shared knowledge about the
White House wiretapping that, they knew, would cause se-
rious—and perhaps fatal—problems for themselves and
the Nixon presidency if made public. The wiretapping
must have been particularly sensitive for Kissinger in ear-
ly 1971, for the main target of the White House program—
Morton Halperin—was a constant reminder to Nixon,
Mitchell, and Haldeman of Kissinger's poor judgment in
initially filling his office with liberals and Democrats who
were not loyal to Nixon and his policies. Kissinger was
saying little by early 1971, at least to the NSC staff, about
Halperin and the three close aides who had resigned over
Cambodia—Roger Morris, Tony Lake, and Bill Watts. But
Haig could be irrational about them. The three were "trai-
tors" to Kissinger and the NSC staff, Haig told one NSC
newcomer in a rage, and Halperin was a "Communist."
Haig had a special reason for being exceedingly angry with
Halperin: he knew what the former Kissinger aide was
saying about him on the telephone. In one conversation
with a former colleague, for example, Halperin depicted
Haig as a "blabbermouth who hears everything. . . . all
phone conversations to the President and everything."

The wiretapping remained an important program for

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Kissinger and Haig through early 1971. Kissinger no longer received direct "Eyes Only" letters from J. Edgar Hoover summarizing important conversations, but he was still very much in the flow. The conduit was Haig, who continued to maintain the NSC's wiretap files and continued to visit FBI headquarters to read verbatim transcripts of conversations. William Sullivan, the FBI assistant director, told the Senate Foreign Relations Committee that Haig had visited his office "about twelve to eighteen times between May, 1969, and February, 1971," when the wiretaps were turned off at Hoover's request. Sullivan, whose memory seemed to grow more vague every time he was ordered to testify, also told the committee that his estimate of the number of Haig's visits was "a guess." Asked specifically whether Haig continued to visit his office to read transcripts after May of 1970—the time by which Haig and Kissinger, according to their repeated testimony, had ended their active role—Sullivan said: "Yes, he did come to my office after May, 1970."

Just why Haig and Kissinger were so adamant in denying involvement with the wiretap program after that date is not clear. Whatever stigma—moral, legal, or other—they felt for having participated in the program would not be erased by their having stopped midway.

THE WIRETAP ON MORT HALPERIN'S HOME TELEPHONE was by far the most significant. Halperin, no liberal when he joined Kissinger's staff, was increasingly outspoken in his opposition to Nixon's and Kissinger's Vietnam policies after he left the White House. By mid-1970, he was a member of the foreign-policy group advising Senator Edmund S. Muskie, of Maine, the Democrat who was considered to be Nixon's strongest challenger for the presidency in 1972. FBI summaries sent to Bob Haldeman in the fall and early winter of 1970 consistently reported on Halperin's wiretap, and showed the former Kissinger aide to be heavily involved in Democratic and anti-Nixon politicking. On October 14, for example, Haldeman was told by Hoover that Halperin had discussed publishing an article on the workings of the National Security Council with a reporter for a German newsmagazine—a prospect that must have filled Kissinger with dread. A few weeks later, Halperin published a trenchant analysis of Vietnam policy in *The New York Times*. Nixon was refusing to force a political settlement on Saigon, Halperin

wrote, and his Vietnamization policy "will at best lead to an indefinite presence in Vietnam of thousands of American troops. It could well drive the President to massive escalation, the mining of Haiphong Harbor and saturation bombing of North Vietnam." Such escalation was still a subject of constant debate among Nixon, Kissinger, and key aides. The men at the top in the White House had to conclude that Halperin had somehow learned of the planning. Halperin's essay in the *Times* undoubtedly helped ensure that the wiretap on Winston Lord, who had become one of Kissinger's personal aides after Cambodia, would remain active until the very end. Six days after publication of the Halperin assessment, Hoover reported to Haldeman that Halperin had been in contact with Leslie Gelb, a former Pentagon aide to Clark M. Clifford, Lyndon Johnson's secretary of defense, and Paul C. Warnke, a Clifford deputy, and the three had discussed a Muskie advisory-group meeting on "China policy."

In early December came another FBI report on Halperin, this one dealing with a planned trip to Moscow by Senator Muskie. The trip had been recommended—so Halperin told Gelb in a conversation monitored by the FBI—by Averell Harriman, an outspoken critic of Nixon's policies. Harriman so alarmed the White House that the FBI had been instructed to report verbatim every conversation he held with Tony Lake. On December 30, Haldeman received another FBI report on Halperin and Gelb revealing that Bob Pursley, who was also being wiretapped at his home, had sent some papers to Clark Clifford's office. Gelb told Halperin that Clifford had asked that he come to his office to look over "about twenty pieces of paper that Pursley sent over." Gelb, Halperin, and Pursley had worked closely together in the Pentagon during the last years of the Johnson Administration, and also shared detailed knowledge of the conclusions of the Pentagon Papers. The papers, a 7,000-page top-secret study of the history of America's involvement in Vietnam, had been undertaken in 1967 at the request of Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara, and assigned to Gelb, then deputy director of the Defense Department policy-planning staff.

The Halperin wiretap reports were extremely useful not only to Haldeman, who maintained strong control over all of the White House political operations, but also to Kissinger, who was obviously informed of Muskie's foreign-policy planning and of the fact that Halperin was still in touch with current NSC staff members. In early November, the FBI reported that Winston Lord had made uncomplimentary remarks about Kissinger and Nixon on his home telephone. A summary of that conversation, as published by the House Judiciary Committee, did not give further details, but Lord was still in touch with Mort Halperin and, according to Halperin's wiretap logs, would occasionally share some gossip with him. One of Kissinger's personal aides depicts this period as one of "general paranoia" inside Kissinger's office.

The stream of secrets was intense. There were the bad

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secrets, dealing with the continuing White House wiretaps. There were the good secrets, such as the backchannel negotiations with China and with the Soviet Union that would lead to breakthroughs—without any State Department involvement—before the year was out. And there were the routine secrets, the enormous flow of documents and cables that were handled by Kissinger and his staff as he continuously expanded his influence. As the flow of secrets intensified, so did Kissinger's concern about the security of his immediate office. His telephones were still being repeatedly swept for signs of wiretapping, but Kissinger insisted that such surveillance not be placed on a routine basis with any single agency. Special teams from the Secret Service, CIA, FBI, or National Security Agency would be summoned to his office at random and on short notice to inspect the telephones, raising the inevitable question among Kissinger's staff: Who was the enemy? One aide, asked why Kissinger did not simply permanently assign the FBI to monitor his phones, responded: "Who trusted Hoover?"

In 1974 testimony to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, Kissinger repeatedly sought to minimize his interest at this period in the White House wiretap program. "After May of 1970," he said, "I had no basis for knowing whether a tap had been initiated or was continuing. . . . I construed my instructions from Mr. Haldeman to mean that my tangential connection with the program was being terminated." Kissinger testified that in mid-October of 1970, when a second wiretap was authorized for Hal Sonnenfeldt, who was then Kissinger's closest personal friend on the NSC staff, his role was even more tangential. "... it is hard to imagine the flood of material that goes across my desk. I am apt to look at something and say this is for somebody else and throw it into my out basket. Most of these documents are not noted for extraordinary precision." The less-than-precise document in question in Sonnenfeldt's case, however, was an FBI summary of a wiretap on the Israeli Embassy in which Richard N. Perle, an aide to Senator Henry Jackson, was overheard discussing classified information that had been supplied to him by someone on the National Security Council staff. Hoover, following normal practice with sensitive materials from embassy wiretaps, had sent the document to Kissinger. Kissinger hesitated a few days. Then, despite his insistence that he was out of the internal-security business after May of 1970, he forwarded the material to Haldeman, who immediately telephoned Hoover, according to FBI documents, and ordered that the FBI be assigned to determine which NSC staffer was in contact with Richard Perle.

Haldeman and Nixon must have hit the roof. In a telephone call on October 15, 1970, to Hoover, Haldeman invoked the name of Henry Kissinger in asking for another wiretap on Sonnenfeldt. Kissinger had to realize that Haldeman and Hoover would suspect Sonnenfeldt, who was known from previous wiretaps to have close ties to the Israelis as well as to Perle. Sonnenfeldt, a former State

Department intelligence official, had been repeatedly investigated by the FBI for other suspected leaks early in his career, and Kissinger, as he told the Senate committee, was aware that Sonnenfeldt had "been the subject of a malicious campaign by a group of individuals who had been out to get him for a long time." But Al Haig was now part of that group—another fact Kissinger surely knew. Sonnenfeldt had been among Haig's early rivals in 1969 for the job as assistant to Kissinger; that, plus Sonnenfeldt's continued closeness to Kissinger—despite the mistreatment Kissinger handed out—was enough for Haig to mark him permanently as the enemy. It was inconceivable that Kissinger would not realize the consequences of his act in turning over the Israeli Embassy wiretap to Haldeman, who would inevitably link Sonnenfeldt, a Jew, to the intercepted conversation. Kissinger was, in essence, turning in his closest remaining friend on his staff. It had to be, at best, a painful moment. Kissinger handled questions about the Sonnenfeldt wiretap from the Senate committee in his usual fashion: he disassembled. "I have no recollection of this at all," he testified. "All that could have happened is that the FBI sent over something off a tap on the Israeli Embassy which I did not think was relevant to my concern and on which I wrote, 'Give this to Haldeman.' " The committee members apparently accepted that explanation.

MORT HALPERIN'S WIRETAP NOT ONLY PROVIDED valuable political information about Senator Muskie's foreign-policy planning, as relayed by Les Gelb and others, but also enabled the White House to learn more about the one former insider who truly was capable of leaking vital secrets—Daniel Ellsberg.

Ellsberg, like Halperin, was a source of embarrassment for Kissinger, who had permitted him—despite his dovish reputation—to draft one of the administration's first options papers on the Vietnam War. Ellsberg had spent the month of March, 1969, in Washington, working quietly on Vietnam issues for the White House. He had worked with Kissinger in South Vietnam in the middle 1960s, and the men had been impressed with each other. Kissinger would tell his colleagues that he had "learned more about Vietnam" from Ellsberg than from any other American. Ellsberg thought Kissinger understood, as he had come to, that the war was unwinnable. During the twenty-one months of the wiretap on Halperin, Ellsberg was over-

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heard fifteen times by the FBI. Their conversations revolved around Vietnam and what both men correctly perceived as the administration's secret plan to escalate the war. Halperin was careful, of course, on his telephone, but Ellsberg was not. He talked openly about drug use and sex. It is not known how Nixon, Haldeman, or Mitchell reacted to the connection of Ellsberg, drugs, and Morton Halperin; such revelations, however, could not have enhanced Kissinger's reputation as an employer of prudent aides. Halperin and Ellsberg knew literally hundreds of government secrets, ranging from the most specific information about America's nuclear-targeting procedures to the working of the National Security Agency's far-flung electronic eavesdropping operations. The White House's concern was not limited, however, to past secrets that Ellsberg and Halperin could expose; the men at the top were worried about what Ellsberg and Halperin thought the administration's future war policy was. Late in the summer of 1969, Ellsberg had visited with Halperin, who was still a White House consultant, to share his insights into the war policy, and it was then, Ellsberg recalls, that Halperin first informed him of the B-52 bombing of Cambodia and of a secret warning by Kissinger to the Soviets about escalation in Vietnam. Halperin also described Kissinger's repeated studies on the mining of Haiphong harbor, and speculated that Richard Nixon would not go through the 1972 election without putting his escalation plan into effect.

Both men knew that the Johnson Administration had much earlier sought to bully North Vietnam into accepting a defeat in the south. Diplomatic documents, still unpublished then, showed that Ho Chi Minh was warned in August of 1964 that unless his nation ceased its support of the Viet Cong in the south, "it can expect to continue to suffer the consequences." The warning, delivered by J. Blair Seaborn, the Canadian member of the International Control Commission, came a few days after American planes bombed the north for the first time, in retaliation for what Washington said was a North Vietnamese attack on American warships in the Gulf of Tonkin.

Ellsberg had been officially aware of the Seaborn mission, and he recalls the response to the threat: within months, one of the best North Vietnamese battalions had begun infiltrating the south. "They did it when they were staring right down the barrel at LBJ's threats," he says. He was convinced after his talks with Halperin that Nixon and Kissinger were going to make the same threats with the same results. Ellsberg began to brood about doing what Halperin would not—talk publicly against the war.

Over the next year, he began to meet privately with influential journalists and business groups to attempt to describe what he thought was the real Nixon strategy. His message was that Nixon's coercion strategy was a contingency plan that would go into effect only if the threats made against the North Vietnamese did not work. "I wasn't saying," Ellsberg recalls, "that they had a conscious

plan that on a certain date they would enlarge the war. Escalation was not in their thoughts, but they were committing themselves to threats that would fail." Ellsberg told his audiences that the administration was being honest, to a degree, in publicly claiming that it did not want to enlarge the war and did not expect to do so. But there was a missing link, one he sought futilely to provide to his listeners: "They were making explicit threats which they expected to be effective without being carried out, and it was this that they were not hinting at or telling anybody." No one paid much attention—except in the White House.

In September of 1970, Kissinger agreed to meet with Ellsberg at San Clemente. Why Kissinger did so is not clear—needless to say, Ellsberg was not mentioned in the first volume of Kissinger's memoirs. Whatever Kissinger's motive, there was nothing outwardly unseemly about their meeting: as of September, 1970, Ellsberg had yet to be linked to any leak of classified materials and was widely known inside the government as a leading theorist on decision-making. The appointment coincided with a burgeoning crisis over the PLO and Jordan in the Middle East. Kissinger began, Ellsberg recalls, by saying, "I'm afraid Rogers's policy is going to explode." Ellsberg responded, "Well, Henry, I'm here to talk about your Vietnam policy. I'm afraid it may explode." For the next ten minutes or so, Ellsberg quickly summarized his view of the White House's threat strategy in Vietnam, which hinged on a series of escalations that included an invasion of Laos and the mining of Haiphong harbor. "I thought to myself," Ellsberg says, "if I'm right, he's got to be hemorrhaging inside." Kissinger said nothing, drumming his fingers on a table and staring intently as Ellsberg talked. When Ellsberg concluded, Kissinger said only, "I do not want to discuss our policy; let us turn to another subject." Ellsberg, who was not easily put off, turned the talk to the Pentagon Papers. He knew that Kissinger was aware of the history project and had been invited to be a consultant in its initial stages. Kissinger acknowledged that there was a copy in the White House safe but said that he had not looked at it. Should he? Ellsberg recalls that he urged Kissinger to read at least the summaries, the few pages condensing each volume. Kissinger said he did not want to do so. "Do we really have anything to learn from this study?" he asked. At this point, Ellsberg says, "My heart sank."

"The major lesson of the study was that each person repeated the same patterns in decision-making and pretty much the same policy as his predecessor without even knowing it. I thought, 'My God! He's in the same state of mind as all the other makers of decision in this long process, each of whom thought that history had started with his administration, and had nothing to learn from earlier ones.'" Ellsberg, who had begun illicitly photocopying the Pentagon Papers late in 1969, would soon turn to a newsman he knew from Vietnam, Neil Sheehan of The New York Times.

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Kissinger and Ellsberg met face to face once more before publication of the Pentagon Papers, at a private conference on the war held at MIT on the last weekend in January of 1971. The weekend meeting was sponsored by a moderate group of student leaders, academics, journalists, businessmen, and former government officials, and Kissinger, still the administration's most effective lobbyist with such a group of establishment liberals, as Nixon viewed them, flew from Washington to speak off the record. It was a tour de force at first, with Kissinger being charming and disarming as usual, confiding to the group that Richard Nixon had not been his first choice for the presidency and telling a questioner that he would resign his position if, as Ellsberg recalls, the "whole trend of the policy became morally reprehensible to me." Even then, he added, he would not publicly attack the President if he did resign—"unless gas chambers were set up or some horrendous moral outrage." Finally Ellsberg rose. The NSC staff, he said, was known to have made estimates on the number of Americans who would be killed during the next year of the war. "What is your best estimate of the number of Vietnamese who will be killed in the next twelve months as a consequence of your policy?"

Derek Shearer, a former Yale University student who attended the conference, described in *The Nation* what happened next. When Kissinger responded, "his voice sounded suddenly less certain; he hesitated, then called Ellsberg's question 'cleverly worded.' 'I answer even if I don't answer,' he said. Ellsberg interrupted to say that he had no intention of being clever, that this was a basic ques-

tion—were such estimates made? Kissinger started to say that one had to consider the options. 'I know the option game, Dr. Kissinger,' said Ellsberg, 'can't you just give us an answer or tell us that you don't have such estimates?' Kissinger again evaded the question; he said the question had racist overtones. Ellsberg pressed him again. For the first time the meeting took on the air of confrontation—then the student moderator stood up and abruptly ended the questioning, saying that Dr. Kissinger was tired and thanked him for coming. The audience, save a few of us, applauded."

On June 13, 1971, The New York Times began to publish the Pentagon Papers, ending Daniel Ellsberg's twenty-month attempt to get those documents on the public record. By the afternoon of June 14, the White House had decided to challenge the nation's most influential newspaper directly, and the next day filed suit in federal court seeking to halt publication of the material. Richard Nixon had chosen to defend the record of his Democratic predecessors in Vietnam. The administration's court suit turned what had been a first-rate newspaper story into a national event. The papers and the man who leaked them, Daniel Ellsberg, were the most prominent news story in the country for a month—until it was announced, on July 15, that Henry Kissinger had silently stolen into Peking for his astonishing meeting with Chou En-Lai, ending a diplomatic impasse between the United States and China that had begun in 1949.

## II. THE PLUMBERS

IN THE EARLY EVENING OF JUNE 17, 1971, HENRY Kissinger held forth in the Oval Office, telling his President, and John Ehrlichman and Bob Haldeman, all about Daniel Ellsberg. Kissinger's comments were recorded, of course, on the hidden White House taping system, and four years later, a portion of that tape was listened to by the Watergate Special Prosecution Force, which was then investigating the internal White House police unit known as the Plumbers.

The special prosecution force had informally agreed with the White House early in the Watergate inquiry that all of the Nixon-Kissinger meetings were prima facie concerned with national-security matters, and none of their extensive conversations was ever subpoenaed. Prosecution files made available to me show, however, that Kissinger, who took part in the fifty-minute meeting on June 17, was inadvertently overheard expressing concern not only about Ellsberg's leak of the Pentagon Papers but also about other documents and secrets he might make public. On that day, or the day before, perhaps, the White House learned that Ellsberg had also provided Senator Charles McC. Mathias,

Jr., a liberal Republican, of Maryland, with a copy of one of the administration's first studies on Vietnam. Mathias had brought the top-secret document to the White House Situation Room, where it was verified as authentic.

Nixon was most anxious about the Brookings Institution, a liberal think-tank in Washington to which Mort Halperin had gone after leaving Kissinger's staff. Also at Brookings was Leslie Gelb, who, many in the White House believed, was involved in the Pentagon Papers leak to the *Times*. At one point during the meeting, prosecution files show, Nixon and Kissinger spoke of the possibility that other top-secret documents were stored in Halperin's or Gelb's safe at Brookings, awaiting future release. "They've got the stuff over there," Nixon said. "Stuff that we can't even get out of there from the Pentagon." Kissinger responded: "Can't we send someone over there to get it back?"

No attempt was actually made by the White House to get access, legally or by other means, to the documents believed stored by Halperin and Gelb, although many plans—including a proposed fire-bombing—were dis-

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cussed over the next few weeks. Kissinger was not a target of the Special Prosecution Force, and his taped comment had no immediate relevance. Knowledge of the June 17 tape was kept tightly sealed inside the Special Prosecution Force's files. "There was incredible ambivalence about the whole thing," one Watergate attorney recalls. "Do you want to go up against him? Kissinger was being promoted by everybody as the one guy in the administration who's solid—and he's threatening to resign. I got a sense that if we found something that finished Henry, the country was going to be in bad shape."

Kissinger escaped any serious investigation during Watergate, as those attorneys who had some doubts soon found themselves immersed in various other matters. One prosecution official, discussing that White House tape recording years later, recalled a quality of Kissinger's conduct in front of Nixon, Ehrlichman, and Haldeman that made him wish he could have listened to more of Kissinger's Oval Office meetings. "He was like one of the boys, talking tough. One says, 'Let's bring knives.' Another says, 'Let's bring bats.' And Henry pipes up, 'Let's bring zip-guns.'" The prosecutor recalled his surprise at hearing Kissinger: "I thought he might have been classier."

Kissinger dominated the meeting on June 17 with his description of Ellsberg and the threat to national security he posed. Ehrlichman's notes of the meeting, as later published during the House impeachment inquiry, showed that Kissinger depicted Ellsberg as a half-crazed genius whose views on the war had turned dovish with excessive drug use and aberrant sexuality. It was a shrewd performance, which played perfectly to the prejudices and preconceptions of Nixon and his two top aides. It was also an exercise in character assassination, similar in intent, if not in degree, to Kissinger's performance in maligning Morton Halperin in front of the President. Ehrlichman's notes showed that Kissinger described Ellsberg as a "genius" who was the "brightest student" Kissinger had ever had at Harvard. (In fact, Kissinger had never taught Ellsberg.) Ellsberg was further described by Kissinger as one who "shot at peasants" while serving in Vietnam and who seemed "always a little unbalanced." (Ellsberg has emphatically denied ever shooting at civilians while in Vietnam.) Kissinger then recounted Ellsberg's alleged use of drugs, information that he could have learned only from the White House wiretaps. Kissinger said that he hadn't seen Ellsberg in one and a half years, except for the meeting at MIT at which Ellsberg "heckled" Kissinger—another lie, for the two had met the previous September at San Clemente, where Ellsberg had urged Kissinger to read the Pentagon Papers. Ehrlichman's notes at that point included the phrase "Murder in Laos," a reference, obviously made by Kissinger, to an early 1971 essay by Ellsberg in the *New York Review of Books* in which Ellsberg restated the theme, initially expressed at MIT, that the White House had made no estimate and took no account of civilian casualties in analyzing its Vietnam programs.

Kissinger's performance on June 17 was all the more remarkable because he had, in essence, run through the same allegations the day before in front of the President, but not in front of Haldeman and Ehrlichman. On June 16, Charles Colson had taken two young Vietnam veterans, John O'Neill and Melville L. Stephens, both of whom were supporters of the White House's war policies, to visit the President in the late afternoon. After a few moments of conversation, Colson recalls, the President summoned Kissinger to his office. Responding with enthusiasm to the President's obvious cue, Kissinger proceeded to give a twenty-minute diatribe on Ellsberg, which Colson recalls as "one of his most passionate tirades. He described Ellsberg as a sexual pervert, said he shot Vietnamese from helicopters in Vietnam, used drugs, had sexual relations with his wife in front of their children. Henry said he was the most dangerous man in America today. He said he 'must be stopped at all costs.'" Melville Stephens, who later joined the White House staff, confirms Colson's account and recalls leaving the Oval Office convinced that Ellsberg "obviously had access to lots of other sensitive documents."

Nixon's and Kissinger's concern about Ellsberg was real, but there was obviously also an element of performance in the White House hysteria that Kissinger created and Nixon encouraged in the first few days after publication of the Pentagon Papers. These must have been extremely difficult days for Kissinger. (He was, for one thing, on the eve of his secret trip to China.) He had to distance himself from Ellsberg quickly and decisively to ensure the President's continued trust. After all, he had brought Ellsberg onto the Security Council staff as a consultant and encouraged him to work on the review of Vietnam policy in early 1969 that had ended up in Senator Mathias's office. Furthermore, Kissinger himself was mentioned in the Pentagon Papers in connection with his role in the Johnson Administration in seeking diplomatic contact with the North Vietnamese. Kissinger also knew far more about the project than anyone in the White House: despite his later disavowals, he had read some of its most sensitive volumes, dealing with negotiations to end the war. Thus, the publication of the papers directly threatened Kissinger by serving as yet another example of his poor judgment—in the view of the President and his advisers—in the staffing of his office. Ellsberg was a personal-security threat.

Richard Nixon understood almost immediately that the Pentagon Papers posed no threat to national security but provided a vital opportunity to score political points against the anti-war movement and the liberal Democrats. Now he could cite national security as the basis for striking at a small group of Muskie advisers, including Mort Halperin, Tony Lake, and Leslie Gelb, who had been overheard repeatedly denigrating the White House on the wiretaps.

By mid-June of 1971, the White House had already been threatened with exposure of its wiretapping by J. Edgar

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Hoover, who understood only too well—and let the President and his advisers know he understood—that national security had little to do with the twenty-one months of wiretapping. If there was to be a break-in at Brookings, or other clandestine activities against the Democrats, the national-security justification would have to be airtight. Kissinger, with his harangues against Ellsberg and his warnings of national calamity, was providing Nixon with the rationale and the protection he needed to initiate what Hoover had stopped in 1970—the Huston plan, with its call for the FBI, with the aid of other intelligence agencies, to make aggressive use of wiretapping, illegal break-ins, and other techniques to monitor and combat the more extreme elements of the anti-war and black-liberation movements.

IN LATE JUNE OF 1971, KISSINGER WAS FAR BUSIER than anyone else in the White House. Planning for the secret trip to China was imposing enough, but he had other travel plans as well. He was scheduled to meet with Le Duc Tho in Paris on June 26, to receive Hanoi's response to a revised American peace offer that had been made secretly in May. Kissinger arranged for a public two-day visit to London beginning on June 24, in part to disguise his mission across the English Channel. There were other pressing issues: the fall presidential elections in South Vietnam; the nearly concluded four-power talks on Berlin (which Kissinger and Nixon were trying to manipulate in the back channel, to prevent the State Department from claiming a success); and the continuing efforts by the State Department to work out a Middle East settlement.

Despite Kissinger's growing ascendancy inside the White House, Secretary of State Rogers was still a constant source of insecurity for him and one reason he saw the China trip as all-important. A successful visit to Peking would deliver a telling blow to Rogers's prestige and effectiveness, Kissinger realized. There was nothing in the Pentagon Papers that would jeopardize the China rapprochement; the far greater threat came from Ellsberg and the President's obsession with the idea that the NSC staff was not trustworthy. Over the next few months, as Nixon continued to focus on the Pentagon Papers and other leaks, Kissinger would not dare to do other than fully support his President. His heavy travel schedule posed an obvious problem, and it was Al Haig who inevitably was assigned

the major liaison role for the National Security Council as the White House organized the Plumbers unit in early July.

During the 1973 Senate Foreign Relations Committee inquiry into wiretapping, Kissinger was asked—almost casually—about the White House attempts in mid-1971 to make political use out of the Pentagon Papers. Kissinger's response seemed plausible: "There were a number of individuals in the White House who occasionally made requests of various kinds, which, as a matter of principle, I refused. . . . I frankly thought there were a few Boy Scouts who were trying to win some points, and I always rejected them."

In the first volume of his memoirs, Kissinger went even further in his protestations and suggested that the political opportunism that the Pentagon Papers provoked in the Oval Office had little to do with him: "The sudden release of over 7,000 pages of secret documents came as a profound shock to the Administration. The documents, of course, were in no way damaging to the Nixon presidency. Indeed, there was some sentiment among White House political operatives to exploit them as an illustration of the machinations of our predecessors and the difficulties we inherited. But such an attitude seemed to me against the public interest: Our foreign policy could never achieve the continuity on which other nations must depend, and our system of government would surely lose all trust if each President used his control of the process of declassification to smear his predecessors."

Kissinger found it easy to take the high road in his memoirs, but the reality of the White House in 1971 did not permit such indulgence. To stand aside quietly and allow a group of political operatives to become involved in an investigation of national-security leaks involving his office, and his judgment, was unthinkable. The delicate task of defending both the National Security Council staff and Henry Kissinger inside the Oval Office fell to Al Haig, who played a pivotal role in the summer and fall of 1971 as the White House began its illegal activities against Daniel Ellsberg and others conveniently believed by John Mitchell and some of his aides in the Justice Department—as well as by the President—to be involved in a political conspiracy against the White House and the Vietnam War. Haig had been faithful to Kissinger during the nearly two years of wiretapping. It was Haig who directly exposed himself by regularly consulting with FBI officials and who was responsible, in large measure, for drafting and signing the documents that relayed Kissinger's wiretap instructions to the FBI. Haig was bureaucratically sophisticated, as an ambitious Army officer had to be, and he would know how to protect Kissinger when things got rough behind his back—as Kissinger knew they would. Kissinger's decision in late 1968 to bring Daniel Ellsberg into the White House as a consultant had turned out to be a mistake for which he would pay in the Oval Office; the issue was how to limit the damage.

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Nixon began his attacks on the National Security Council staff within days of Kissinger's departure for Peking. On July 2, Ehrlichman was assigned full responsibility for investigating the Ellsberg case by the President, and ordered to appoint a staff aide to devote himself full-time to the "conspiracy" involving Ellsberg and his fellow Democrats. A continuing Nixon concern was Hoover and the FBI, which, the White House believed, was less than enthusiastic about the investigation of Ellsberg and his fellow conspirators. On July 6, Ehrlichman's notes quoted Nixon explicitly expressing his feeling about Kissinger's staff: "Can't assume NSC staff not participants" in the assumed conspiracy. The President suggested that Larry Lynn, the former Kissinger aide who was then an assistant secretary at HEW, be given a lie-detector test to determine his involvement. He told Ehrlichman to "put a non-legal team on the conspiracy"—and thus the Plumbers unit was born.

There was also talk that day of a "Communist" link to Ellsberg—a connection that no government agency was ever able to demonstrate. Three days later, while Kissinger was in China, the President told Ehrlichman and Haldeman that Kissinger's "staff must be cleaned out." By that day, too, Ehrlichman had found the right man to direct the "non-legal" team sought by the President—David Young, one of Kissinger's former personal aides. Nixon approved the choice and asked Ehrlichman to bring Young in for a face-to-face meeting. One of Young's functions would be to investigate Kissinger's NSC staff. Kissinger, in China, was not to be bothered by the new "special duty" for Young, but Al Haig would be informed, Ehrlichman's notes showed.

By mid-1971, Young was one of the few remaining members of the National Security Council staff who had worked closely with Kissinger and befriended him prior to Nixon's election. Young, then thirty-four years old, had met Kissinger while working on Nelson Rockefeller's 1968 presidential campaign. His credentials seemed impeccable: he was associated with a prominent Wall Street law firm and had attended Oxford before graduating from Cornell University law school in the early 1960s. After Nixon's election, Young approached Kissinger to volunteer his services, and he was put on the NSC staff in early 1970 to help handle Kissinger's scheduling and other personal matters. By all accounts, the balding, seemingly self-assured lawyer was dutiful in his loyalty to Kissinger. Young's wife took care of Kissinger's laundry, and he, according to former NSC aides, was responsible for buying some of Kissinger's clothing. One aide recalls inadvertently finding a note from Young to Kissinger asking, in essence: "Did you like the tie? I thought it would go well with your blue suit." The Kissinger-Young relationship soured, nonetheless, as did most of Kissinger's relationships with his personal aides, and David R. Halperin, a former Navy officer, was added to Kissinger's personal staff. Young had been unable to outmanipulate Haig, and by late 1970 began to tell his

friends inside the White House about his desire to assume a more substantive role in the government.

In the second volume of his memoirs, *Years of Upheaval*, Kissinger acknowledged that Young had run "afoul" of Haig, and claimed that he had been shifted in January of 1971 "from my immediate office to a make-work job of research in the White House Situation Room." There is evidence, however, that Young—his "make-work job" to the contrary notwithstanding—continued to be directly involved in some of the most sensitive and closely held issues in the White House. On January 25, 1971, for example, Kissinger brought Young and no other aide to a meeting with the chairman, general counsel, and chief security officer of the Atomic Energy Commission to discuss the security clearance of the operator of a nuclear-fuel-processing plant in Pennsylvania, who was suspected of helping to divert 200 pounds of highly enriched uranium to the Israelis. Adding to the sensitivity of the meeting was the fact that agents from Mossad, the Israeli intelligence service, were believed by some CIA officials to have been involved in the diversion of the uranium—enough material to make five to ten nuclear bombs. Within months, however, Young's meaningful role inside Kissinger's staff had eroded to the point where he approached John Ehrlichman and appealed for a job on the Domestic Council. "Young came to me," Ehrlichman recalls, "and literally broke down and cried. He felt he'd been badly treated by Kissinger and didn't know what to do." Young complained that Kissinger no longer "was seeing him," Ehrlichman says, "and Haig was bedeviling him." It was against this background that Ehrlichman had proposed Young for the Plumbers job in early July of 1971, before Kissinger returned from China, in the belief that Kissinger would not object. Young later told a friend on the NSC staff that Kissinger's heated objection created a "major battle" that was settled, after Nixon's intervention, with a compromise. Young's friend, one of few in whom Young confided, further recalls: "David told me that the deal that was worked out was that David would be on loan to other people but Kissinger could call on him whenever he wanted. He did see Henry from time to time; he said Henry still had some kind of claim on him."

By July 6, there was an added element in the White House anxiety: Nixon's insistence once again that the Brookings Institution be penetrated and that Gelb's and Halperin's files be removed and returned to the White House. The catalyst in Nixon's renewed concern was Charles Colson, the President's political aide, who had obtained a 1969 Brookings brochure announcing a two-year history project on the Vietnam War by Leslie Gelb, which was to culminate with the publication of a "balanced and accurate history . . ." Ellsberg, according to the brochure, was on an advisory panel for the study, along with John J. McCloy, the international lawyer, and Stanley Hoffmann, the Harvard political scientist. The timing indicated, Colson told Ehrlichman in a subsequent memorandum, that "another

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installment of the Pentagon Papers" would be made public in a few months. When Nixon learned of the new study, Colson recalls, he "blew up at Haldeman" and said, "God-dammit, Bob, haven't we got that capability in place? How many times am I going to have to tell you? Get 'em [the White House documents believed to be in Brookings] back." After the meeting, Haldeman took Colson aside and said, Colson recalls, "Well, you heard the President. Take care of it."

Over the next two months, there was repeated and serious talk inside the White House of a possible fire-bombing of Brookings in an effort to steal the classified papers believed to be stored there. The project eventually came to the attention of G. Gordon Liddy, the former FBI agent, and E. Howard Hunt, the former CIA operative, who had been hired, with Ehrlichman's eventual approval, to work in the Plumbers unit. In his memoirs, Liddy wrote that he and Hunt developed a plan in September to buy a used fire engine and firemen's uniforms for a squad of Cubans who would be trained in fire-fighting techniques "so their performance would be believable." Brookings would "be fire-bombed" with delayed-timing devices; the Cubans would respond, "hit the vault [where Nixon believed the documents were held], and get themselves out in the confusion. . . ." The plan was rejected as being too expensive, Liddy wrote. (All of this scheming took place after Liddy, Hunt, and the Cubans had broken into the Beverly Hills office of Dr. Lewis J. Fielding, Ellsberg's psychoanalyst, in a futile effort to find Ellsberg's psychiatric records or other possibly detrimental information.)

KISSINGER WAS BEING PROTECTED FROM DIRECT participation in all of this by Al Haig, who emerged over the summer as more indispensable than ever. There is no evidence that Haig had knowledge of the proposed fire-bombing of Brookings in mid-1971, but according to Haldeman's memoirs, he had joined in similar planning with Haldeman in 1969 at Nixon's request. More significant, there is evidence that Haig was involved in an effort during the summer of 1971, also triggered by the President, to conceal the fact that Ellsberg had been overheard on the White House wiretaps.

Haig's first known involvement in the White House's campaign against Daniel Ellsberg—according to unpublished records of the Watergate Special Prosecution Force

made available to me—was on July 12, 1971, at San Clemente, where Nixon and his top aides gathered to discuss the question of Ellsberg's repeated appearances on the White House wiretaps. Ellsberg had been indicted on June 28 by the Justice Department and charged with violations of the theft, espionage, and conspiracy statutes for his act in photocopying the Pentagon Papers. Within a few days, the Internal Security Division of the Justice Department, following routine practice, formally requested that the FBI check its wiretap logs to determine whether Ellsberg had been overheard. On July 9, the Internal Security Division filed a second request, asking the FBI also to check its records on potential grand-jury witnesses in the case, including Morton Halperin, Leslie Gelb, and Neil Sheehan, the New York Times reporter to whom Ellsberg had provided access to the papers.

The duplicity in all of this was immense, because the head of the Internal Security Division at the time was Robert Mardian, and he, as Watergate prosecutors later learned, knew of the White House wiretapping. On July 6, Nixon, Mitchell, Ehrlichman, and Haldeman met in the Oval Office and discussed—almost casually—the importance of reviewing the wiretap records to see whether some detrimental information about Ellsberg and his suspected collaborators would be revealed. "In light of this," Haldeman said at one point, according to an unpublished Watergate Special Prosecution Force transcript of that meeting, "some of that stuff may be a hell of a lot more meaningful now . . ." Mitchell responded: "I've had them reviewed in the Bureau [FBI]." Haldeman said that there were "a lot of conversations with Sheehan in them, to my recollection." Mitchell, after some discussion, acknowledged, "Bob is right. You never know what those taps mean . . ."

The revived interest in the White House wiretaps also prompted William Sullivan, who was then in the midst of a bitter dispute with J. Edgar Hoover, to visit Mardian and warn him, as Mardian later testified, that Hoover could not be trusted and might seek to blackmail Nixon, as he had blackmailed other Presidents, because of the wiretap material. Sullivan, who suspected that he would soon be fired by Hoover, also told Mardian that he had physical possession of the FBI's set of wiretap logs and summaries. On July 11, Mardian flew to the California White House for a meeting with Nixon and his closest aides the next morning. By then, the FBI still had not responded to the Justice Department requests for wiretapping information on Ellsberg and the potential grand-jury witnesses.

John Ehrlichman's notes of the July 12 meeting, from the still-unpublished prosecution files that were made available to me, suggest that Mardian raised the issue of the Hoover threat with the President; the President and his aides also discussed the problem posed by formally admitting that Ellsberg had been overheard. To do so would obviously reveal the Kissinger wiretaps. Nixon, according to Ehrlichman's notes, ordered Haldeman to "recover documents from Haig"—that is, the set of wiretap summaries

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and logs in Kissinger's office. The President then said: "O.K. Obtain and destroy all logs. . . . Tell Hoover to destroy." A few moments later, according to the notes, the President, again discussing the wiretap records, ordered Haig, who was not at the meeting, to return the White House copies of the summaries and logs to Sullivan's office in the FBI. Sullivan was then to forward all the documents to Mardian's office "for destruction," Nixon ordered. There was to be an additional role for Haig, Nixon said, according to Ehrlichman's notes: "Haig request the F.B.I. (Sullivan) to destroy all special coverage." Thus Haig, who had played a role in setting up the White House wiretaps, was ordered to help get rid of the evidence, along with Mardian, the senior Justice Department official who had signed the formal letter to the FBI requesting all wiretap information on Ellsberg and the others. The FBI eventually reported that Ellsberg had not been overheard on a wiretap and also said that Halperin and the other potential grand-jury witnesses had not been the subjects of direct wiretaps. (The failure of senior FBI officials to respond honestly to the Ellsberg requests later became the focus of an extensive criminal investigation by the Watergate prosecutors, but no charges were filed.)

Haig, even more than Kissinger, was a presidential insider that summer, one who could be trusted to play "hardball"—even on an issue as sensitive and potentially damaging as the destruction of Ellsberg wiretap evidence at the height of the government's prosecution of the heavily publicized Pentagon Papers case. Kissinger returned from Peking and Paris early on the morning of July 13, the day after the fateful decision on the wiretaps. Did Haig tell Kissinger what was going on? Former National Security Council staff aides, in scores of interviews, have said it is inconceivable that he did not. Kissinger's denials—often made—of any knowledge of the White House's activities involving Daniel Ellsberg or the Plumbers unit were taken at face value by many in the public and the media throughout the Watergate inquiry in the mid-1970s, largely because so little was known about the full extent of Haig's complicity. Haig did more than merely know what was going on in the White House: he was part of it.

Later on July 13, two days before Nixon's announcement of the secret visit to Peking, Kissinger was formally told by Ehrlichman that David Young was leaving his staff to work on the Ellsberg investigation. In an interview with me, Ehrlichman recalled an extended conversation with Kissinger aboard the presidential helicopter at San Clemente in which the functions of the Plumbers operation were specifically discussed: David Young would be investigating leaks. Kissinger resisted bitterly, Ehrlichman recalled: "Henry had no objection to the activity, but he didn't want to give up Young." The President decided that Young would join forces with Egil (Bud) Krogh, Jr., one of Ehrlichman's aides on the White House Domestic Council, to set up the "non-legal" internal-investigations unit. Kissinger's concern about Young's departure was inevitable

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and, in part, almost reflexive: aides such as Young, who were permitted access to many of the back-channel secrets and some of Kissinger's private telephone conversations, knew far too much. Young knew, for example, about the White House wiretaps, and was provided with, or took, copies of some of the wiretap summaries and perhaps some of the original FBI logs of the Halperin-Ellsberg conversations when he went to the new Plumbers office in the basement of the Old Executive Office Building.

David Young would escape prosecution in the Ellsberg case by cooperating with the Watergate Special Prosecution Force's investigation of Ehrlichman, who was convicted in 1974 of violating Ellsberg's civil rights and lying to a grand jury; no investigator from the prosecution force or the House Judiciary Committee ever formally questioned him on the link, as co-director of the Plumbers, to Henry Kissinger.

In his public statements, Kissinger has insisted that he did not know in 1971 that Young had left his staff to set up Nixon's special investigation unit. In a private briefing for a group of *Time* magazine executives in early 1974, Kissinger declared: "Let me put David Young's relationship to me in perspective. He was not a big man in my life, and I was in his life." As far as he was concerned, Kissinger said, Young had been reassigned only to handle declassification matters for the President. That, of course, was the cover story used by Young to explain his new job to his friends and associates. Kissinger, despite his denials, not only knew the truth about Young's important new role but must have suspected that Young's most urgent assignment would be to investigate the NSC staff and even Kissinger's personal involvement with White House leaks.

The President and all of his senior advisers—with the exception of Kissinger—were enthusiastic about the Plumbers and the concept of the White House taking charge of “national-security” investigations. Richard V. Allen, Kissinger’s former aide who had returned to the White House in 1971 to help handle foreign-trade issues, recalls hearing Haldeman describe Howard Hunt that summer as a “balls-out” CIA operative. Nixon was then moving to the right politically as part of his drive to capture the hard-hat Middle America vote, and punishing Daniel Ellsberg for releasing the Pentagon Papers fit right in. The President also began relying more on John Connally, the conservative Texan who had been named treasury secretary in late 1970, and who was emerging—to Kissinger’s dismay—as a rival for the President’s ear. Men such as Gordon Liddy and Howard Hunt were viewed as exciting additions to the Plumbers unit; they were tough and experienced agents ready to operate clandestinely on behalf of the President and his re-election. Egil Krogh, Ehrlichman’s aide who was assigned to direct the Plumbers along with David Young, could also be tough when it came to the President and national security.

Charles Cooke, Elliot Richardson's longtime aide, initiated a series of casual lunches at the White House and

elsewhere with Krogh shortly after moving with Richardson to the Department of Health, Education and Welfare, in 1970. Although he and Krogh had many domestic issues to discuss, Cooke recalls, they invariably talked about Vietnam. Late in the year, after Nixon ordered the resumption of bombing in the north, Cooke started to summarize all of the arguments against it, beginning with the fact—obvious to him—that the war was in the south and could only be won on the ground there. “Krogh just blew up,” Cooke recalls: “‘My God, don’t you people understand—the man [Richard Nixon] is going to blow them off the face of the earth unless they cave in.’ That was our last lunch,” Cooke says.

Krogh knew little about foreign policy in 1971. He had been brought by Ehrlichman on to the White House Domestic Council in early 1969, after having worked part-time for Ehrlichman's Seattle law firm in the late 1960s, while he was a student at the University of Washington law school. Krogh's primary responsibilities on the Domestic Council revolved around narcotics control, crime prevention, and transportation policy; he also ran the White House command post during the many anti-war rallies that convulsed Washington in the early years of the Nixon Administration. Krogh and Young knew each other casually in mid-1971, but they were not close friends; both were members of a group of White House aides who met occasionally in a Georgetown bar for drinks and free-wheeling gossip (although Krogh, a Christian Scientist, does not drink).

Shortly after their assignment as co-directors of the Plumbers, Krogh recalls, Young began doing exactly what Kissinger feared: gossiping about the Kissinger-Nixon relationship. In one of their first extended conversations, Krogh says, Young “told me of the time he was on the phone [listening in] when Nixon and Kissinger were talking. Nixon was drunk and he said, ‘Henry, we’ve got to nuke them.’” The anecdote was chilling, Krogh says, and added a sense of urgency to his mission: the Vietnam War had to be won and Dan Ellsberg had to be stopped. “We were going after an espionage ring, not just Daniel Ellsberg,” Krogh explained to John Ehrlichman in 1973 during the Watergate crisis. “We had guys like [Paul] Warnke, Gelb, and Halperin . . . Halperin had even been tapped when he was on the NSC staff because they didn’t trust him. They thought he was a traitor. We didn’t know if there were spies all over this country at that point . . .”

Krogh, with his inexperience in foreign policy, may well have believed that such a conspiracy existed. David Young's beliefs are much more difficult to assess. Young knew that a success in the Plumbers job would put him in line for a senior appointment in the Nixon Administration. Did Young really suspect that Ellsberg was part of a conspiracy involving Mort Halperin and other Democrats? Young had access to the Halperin wiretaps, and knew that Ellsberg was as hostile privately about Nixon and Kissinger as he became in his public statements and writings

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by 1971. But the wiretaps were devoid of any disclosures of national-security information; Ellsberg may have been able correctly to predict the administration's future course of action in the Vietnam War, but he was not violating any laws in so doing. Most of the significant leaks of national-security information, as Young knew, originated in Henry Kissinger's office. Young was also aware that Ellsberg had met with Kissinger the previous September to urge an end to the war; he may have known that Kissinger requested that Ellsberg meet again with him. All of this meant, as Young clearly had to understand, that the issue of Ellsberg was far more complicated than Krogh, Ehrlichman, and the President believed. Yet Young joined with alacrity in the White House machinations against Ellsberg in the summer and fall of 1971.

Further evidence of Haig's—and hence Kissinger's—direct involvement with the Plumbers was provided in a series of FBI documents released to the *Times's* William Beecher in a Freedom of Information suit. The documents show that Young and Krogh worked directly with Haig to investigate yet another Beecher revelation—a July 23, 1971, dispatch outlining the administration's revised SALT negotiating position. The *Times* story, which publicly revealed that the administration had decided to seek controls over submarine-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs), enraged the President and the disarmament community. Nixon summoned Egil Krogh and Ehrlichman to an Oval Office meeting on the next day, a Saturday, and ordered widespread polygraph tests and a revision of the classification system. A few hours later, Krogh called a meeting of his own to discuss the Beecher story; those in attendance included two senior FBI officials, Robert Mardian, Al Haig, Howard Hunt, and David Young, among others. According to an FBI summary of the meeting, Krogh described the President as being “up on the ceiling” about the leak and wanting the sources located within thirty-six hours. General Haig then reported, the FBI memorandum said, “the results of his coordinating and he found that over 200 persons in various agencies, excluding clerical personnel, had access to the [National Security] Decision Memorandum relating to the U.S. proposals.” Haig was thus more than merely participating in the SALT leak inquiry; he—along with Krogh, Young, and the other Plumbers—was one of its administrators.

Kissinger himself got directly into the internal-security business once again, shortly after his return in late July from another secret meeting in Paris with Le Duc Tho. His target was William Beecher. On July 29, Beecher had done it again—reporting that the Nixon Administration had ended its long-standing spy flights over China in an obvious effort to avoid any serious incident before Richard Nixon's summit meeting in early 1972. In a memorandum for the record, W. Donald Stewart, the Pentagon official in charge of investigations, reported that Kissinger had personally telephoned William Sullivan of the FBI to relay “his great concern” about Beecher's new story and to urge

a full investigation. Such a request would be perfectly appropriate for the President's national security adviser, but Kissinger, it should be stated again, repeatedly testified during the various Watergate inquiries that he chose to stop dealing in internal-security matters as of May, 1970, when the White House ordered all wiretap summaries to be sent only to Bob Haldeman's office.

ON AUGUST 5, JUST A FEW DAYS AFTER KISSINGER'S complaint to William Sullivan about the Beecher story, one of the final steps in the wiretap saga took place in Kissinger's office. Robert Mardian, to whom Nixon had assigned the task—along with Haig—of getting rid of the White House wiretap records, visited the NSC offices that day to inspect Kissinger's wiretap records. Mardian had earlier discovered that some copies of the FBI summaries had disappeared in the Justice Department; the suspected culprit was none other than J. Edgar Hoover, who had made clear to the President that he would stop at nothing to protect his job. Exactly what happened to all of the wiretap documents is not known.

The prosecutors did learn, according to unpublished files, that sometime in mid-July, just after the crucial July 12 meeting at San Clemente involving the President, the White House files of Kissinger, Haldeman, and Nixon were stripped of all wiretap summary letters and logs. Those documents were returned to the FBI, where they eventually came under Mardian's personal control, as Nixon had ordered. Mardian and his aides subsequently determined that a few of the FBI summary letters were missing, and it was that fact that prompted Mardian's visit to Kissinger and Haig. His goal, apparently, was fully to account for Kissinger's copies of the FBI documents, and to ensure that Kissinger's records were consistent with the FBI's tally. It wouldn't do to have such papers floating about the bureaucracy.

Mardian, as the FBI account of the interview reported, “specifically remembered the incident because when he came into the office, Dr. Kissinger addressed a remark which Mr. Mardian felt was in extremely poor taste under the circumstances. . . . Kissinger said something to the effect, ‘Do you have what I said on the phone?’ implying, according to Mr. Mardian, that Mardian had results of a wiretap on Dr. Kissinger. . . . Dr. Kissinger also said that he had been keeping logs for the time when he writes his

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memoirs, but laughed and said he doesn't keep them any
more."

Kissinger and Haig then got down to the business at hand, and carefully went through Kissinger's copy of the wiretap records. It was not clear from Mardian's interview with the FBI whether Kissinger kept a set of the wiretap summaries and logs in his office or merely had a summary of what had been in his possession and previously returned. Mardian later personally delivered all of the collected wiretap records to Nixon, who instructed Ehrlichman to bury them in his files, where they were discovered a few days after Ehrlichman's resignation from the White House in 1973. In his August 5 meeting with Kissinger and Haig, Mardian acknowledged that the careful checking was necessary to ensure that Hoover did not have access to any of the documents, and thus was not in a position to blackmail the White House. Kissinger, in his interview with the Special Prosecution Force in late 1975, also acknowledged that he was aware of Hoover's blackmail threat, although he denied being present when Mardian and Haig went through his office wiretap records. In a report on the interview, the Special Prosecution Force further quoted Kissinger as conceding that he was aware that "the nature of this [Hoover's] blackmail threat related to the embarrassment that would be caused if it were known that newsmen had been tapped."

"Embarrassment" was hardly the word. Kissinger had to realize that such a revelation would have been devastating, not only to him personally but perhaps even to Nixon's re-election campaign. It would also have heightened the resolve of the U.S. anti-war forces. Kissinger suffered through the meeting and the distasteful comparing of wiretap documents with Mardian for the same reason that everyone else in the White House did—fear of exposure.

William Sullivan of the FBI understood how far Kissinger would go to avoid embarrassment. Sometime in the spring of 1973, amid the Watergate revelations, he sent Kissinger a memorandum summarizing his understanding of the White House wiretapping, which had yet to become publicly known. The document enraged Kissinger, according to a close aide, but he knew what to do without being told. Sullivan soon became Kissinger's and Haig's choice to be named director of the FBI. It was Haig, Nixon's new chief of staff, who telephoned Elliot Richardson, the newly nominated attorney general, and strongly recommended Sullivan for the job in the first week of May. Richardson's senior aides, J. T. Smith and Jonathan Moore, moved quickly and successfully to prevent Sullivan's nomination. Moore says that he had no special knowledge in arguing against Sullivan. "He was the wrong guy with the wrong

history," he says. Within two weeks, Sullivan made available to *The New York Times* copies of White House wiretap authorizations, which directly linked Kissinger to the requests for wiretaps on his own staff aides.

Kissinger's concern that spring was not only wiretapping. He also had to worry about David Young, who had continued to operate—as only a few knew—in Kissinger's sphere despite his assignment to the Plumbers.

In the fall of 1980, I obtained access to a private journal that was informally maintained by a key Kissinger aide, who served in a position of confidentiality throughout the Watergate era; it summarized many conversations between Kissinger and the President, as well as between Kissinger and Haig. The journal, made available under the condition that the name of its author not be revealed, showed that Haig was directly receiving progress reports on the Plumbers' activities from David Young. Kissinger was "worried," the journal noted in an entry dated March 15, 1973, "concerning the Plumbers' work." At that date, of course, there had yet to be any public revelation of the existence of the Plumbers unit or of its wrongdoing. As the Watergate scandal unraveled later that spring, the journal further revealed that David Young had emerged as a constant cause of concern for Kissinger. In early June, the journal noted that Kissinger was openly worried about Young and whether he was truly loyal or was just saying that he "was a Kissinger man." At one point that spring, according to the journal, Kissinger even considered reinstating Young as an aide on the NSC staff, to help ensure that he would not tell all he knew.

By October of 1975, when Kissinger finally agreed to be interviewed by the Watergate prosecutors, it was safe to do so. Gerald R. Ford was President, and Watergate seemed far removed. In retrospect, Kissinger had made a wise choice in deciding to deny any knowledge whatsoever of the Plumbers operation. Al Haig and David Young kept their silence. If Kissinger had taken another tack and admitted to having some idea of what David Young and Egil Krogh were doing, he would have exposed himself to further inquiries and, inevitably, more admission of knowledge. That Kissinger had lied about his role in the wiretapping and his knowledge of the Plumbers was widely assumed in the Washington press corps, and even inside the Watergate Special Prosecution Force, but Kissinger was permitted to slide by with his half-truths and misstatements. Only Richard Nixon, Alexander Haig, some of the men around them, and a few Watergate prosecutors fortunate enough to have learned what was on the White House tapes understood the truth: Kissinger was involved. ☐

MIDDLE EAST

America's president; Syria's minister, far left, and Saudi Arabia's, right, with Shultz

After Lebanon:
a conversation

We recorded this conversation with Henry Kissinger, a private citizen, in New York. It explores the opportunities and choices available in the Middle East after Israel's lunge into Lebanon, the departure from Beirut of the Palestine Liberation Organisation, and the Reagan plan announced on September 1st.

Do you see still, after recent events, an
opportunity for progress in the Middle
East?

The circumstances for progress in the
Middle East are the best I can remember.

Is the Reagan plan one component in
that?

Let me define what I consider to be the
essential elements of the Reagan plan:
(1) That the negotiating partners on the
West Bank should be Jordan and Israel;
(2) that the West Bank authority elected
by Palestinians should be associated with
Jordan; (3) that annexation of the West
Bank and Gaza by Israel will not be
accepted by the United States or by any
other country; (4) that there be a morato-
rium on new Israeli settlements on the
West Bank during a peace process; (5)
that the negotiation must deal with Isra-
el's security as well as recognition.

There are other aspects in the plan that
I think are not as essential.

Now, suddenly, one is able to talk in these
terms whereas, say, a year ago it was
difficult to see one's way ahead. Were the
military events in Lebanon a useful begin-
ning of this process?

Like it or not, they changed things—so
that out of the rubble there came the
chance of a fresh beginning. I do not
believe it would have been possible to
achieve the kind of Arab reaction evoked
by the Reagan plan had these military
operations not taken place. First of all
Lebanon strengthened the moderates in
the Arab world by weakening the radi-
cals. Second, it revealed the hollowness,
or the limits, of Soviet support for its
clients in the Middle East; the Soviets can
supply arms but give no impetus to diplo-
macy. Third, it exposed the fact that the

new generation of American weapons
seems to be much superior to the new
generation of Soviet weapons. . . .

American weapons with some Israeli
frills. . . .

With some Israeli frills, yes, but at any
rate making the military option for those
using Soviet weapons in the region less
and less promising—and in the process
devaluing Russia's principal export.

Finally, the lack of effective support
for the PLO [Palestine Liberation Or-
ganisation] by the radical Arab states
made it clear that the rejectionist front
had rhetoric but no programme. All this
eliminated to a large extent the military
potential of the PLO. Therefore if the
Palestinians are to participate in the
peace process, it will have to be as a
political and not as a military factor.
These are the new objective conditions
on the Arab side making for progress.

On the Israeli side the Lebanese action
has removed, substantially, the argument
that there was an imminent military
threat to the existence of the Jewish state.
It would have been unthinkable a few
months ago that an Israeli prime minister
would tell his parliament that for the first
time in Israel's history all its frontiers
were secure.

For all of these reasons conditions have
never been better for negotiations—pro-
vided the Reagan plan is seen as a
framework and not a blueprint, every last
provision of which needs to be imple-
mented as part of an agreement.

Which elements of it do you see, then, as
being particularly encouraging as a
framework?

Jordan as a negotiating partner; a decisive role, a political role, for the inhabitants of the West Bank and Gaza in determining their political future, within the framework of association with Jordan; the recognition of Israeli security concerns on the West Bank; and the clear statement by the United States, which will remove any illusions that may have existed in Israel, that annexation (overt or disguised) is not an option we will support.

Those are the potential strengths in the
Reagan plan. What are the potential
weaknesses and dangers in it?

Some of the language is perhaps neces-
sarily ambiguous; some of it will be

THE ECONOMIST NOVEMBER 13, 1982

27

## KISSINGER ON THE MIDDLE EAST

interpreted differently by the various parties and—I suspect—by different elements of our bureaucracy. This involves the risk of stalemate in the negotiations, tensions with friends on both sides and disagreement within our government.

The phraseology on Jerusalem in my view may well be only compatible with turning Jerusalem into a UN [United Nations] city, which is a non-starter. The phraseology that the location of the borders will depend on the degree of normalisation that the countries are prepared to undertake meets only part of the problem. It obscures the peculiar difficulty of Arab-Israeli negotiation in which one side has attempted to achieve annexation by subterfuge and the other side tries to evade all its problems by trading its maximum demands in return for recognition. In other words the location of the West Bank borders must be related to security as well as to recognition. Israel—as President Reagan has also implied—should not be asked to find security solely in recognition.

**You talk of the "peculiar difficulty" of Arab-Israeli negotiations.**

Two nostalgic illusions inhibit these negotiations. The Israeli nostalgia is that somehow or other they can manoeuvre

### Israel was not thinking of autonomy in any commonly accepted use of the word

events to a de facto annexation of the West Bank. The Arab nostalgia is that somehow or other, having lost the military option, they can manoeuvre us into accomplishing their maximum programme in return for verbal formulae, in the process demoralising Israel and with luck bringing about its collapse.

Another danger is that the Reagan plan will turn into a subterfuge for rehabilitating the PLO, establishing it with essentially unchanged composition and programme on the West Bank, threatening simultaneously Israel and Jordan.

The final danger is psychological. Having taken the unprecedented step of introducing a plan without consultation with Israel, we have to be careful not to turn an emergency measure into a regular procedure. Opposition to Israel must not become a congenital feature of our foreign policy lest we break Israel's back psychologically. This is not the case now; I am simply warning against turning what was a probably unavoidable first step into a permanent feature of our diplomacy.

Is this argument between America and Israel different in nature from previous

**arguments?**

I think that the crisis in American-Israeli relations that resulted from the Reagan speech is unusual in the sense that, for the first time, a presidential plan was put forward without consultation with the Israelis, and for the first time a presidential proposal was totally rejected. We've had tactical disagreements within an agreed strategy before, but this time the dispute involved a fundamental issue of principle. There probably was no other choice: there was a boil that needed lancing in that the Israeli definition of Palestinian autonomy and the definition that the Americans or the Arabs could give to the term had been at fundamental variance from the beginning.

The Israeli proposal for autonomy foresaw a self-governing authority arising out of some process of election. Because the *arrière pensée* of at least the key members of the Israeli government was, as is now apparent, that they would not give up sovereignty over any part of the West Bank, they were careful not to draw any territorial distinction. By implication the autonomy plan applied to the entire West Bank within the 1967 borders. Paradoxically the Begin government, against its preferences and ideology, was really proposing what all other nations were certain to treat as an embryo Palestinian state and, to compound the irony, within the 1967 border since none other was under discussion. Once there was an elected self-governing authority on the West Bank, an irreversible political fact would be created on the territory over which its authority was supposed to run. However limited this authority, it would soon turn into the nucleus of something like a Palestinian state, probably under PLO control. It would be so treated by almost all of the countries of the world except Israel.

**And that would be something to avoid, in your book?**

Well, it was clearly the main objective of the Israeli government to avoid it; its proposal was incompatible with its strategy. All this led to an inherent misunderstanding between the United States and Israel, not to speak of between Egypt and Israel. The only way the Israeli government could avoid the implications of its own proposal was to deprive the word autonomy of its dictionary meaning—for example by elaborating a distinction between autonomy of persons and autonomy of land. Deadlock between Egypt and Israel and latent tensions between the United States and Israel were thus built into the definitions of the problem.

**Not to mention Sadat.**

And Sadat. Between Sadat and Israel: it

Reagan, Begin: an unusual crisis

probably contributed to weakening Sadat's position. It also fostered an American illusion that perhaps one could get around the problem by enumerating the powers of the self-governing authority. But the problem was insoluble because Israel was not really thinking of autonomy in any commonly accepted use of the word. Even without Lebanon, a showdown on that issue was inevitable sooner or later—the logical implications of the Israeli plan and the way the Israeli government wanted to implement and negotiate it had grown incompatible.

**Are you saying that since Camp David we have got stuck on an escalator, so to speak, on the use of the word autonomy which we now cannot get off?**

No, I'm saying that so long as some form of Israeli sovereignty over the entire West Bank was the objective the autonomy negotiations could not be brought to a conclusion acceptable to all parties; even without Lebanon a point would have been reached at which either the United States would have had to put forward its own definition of autonomy, or there would have been a blow-up of the negotiations.

Lebanon has now made it possible to involve other Arab states in the process and therefore to come up with a more comprehensive approach than would have been possible otherwise. That is the boil the Reagan plan has helped lance.

**Because it got back to the idea of Perez and others that Jordan ought to be the negotiating partner?**

That idea preceded Perez and should not be identified primarily with internal Is-

28

KISSINGER ON THE MIDDLE EAST

raeli politics. It has been American policy since 1967 that Jordan should be the interlocutor for the West Bank.

**Now, Jordan is talking with Arafat and the PLO. Does that not pose the danger that, by introducing Jordan into it, all we're doing is introducing the PLO on to the West Bank where it can be a threat either to Israel or to Jordan or both?**

That is the key strategic question we must all be clear about. The Reagan plan must not turn into a device for introducing the PLO in its present form and with its present concepts on the West Bank. Jordan would thereby become not so much the principal negotiating partner as a cover for the PLO domination of the West Bank. By making the PLO part of Jordan it will also lay the basis for an eventual PLO takeover of all of Jordan, reversing the events of 1970. The creation of another radical state with irredentist aims towards both Jordan and Israel is irreconcilable with the stability of the Middle East.

**Do you feel that point of view is solidly enough embedded in the Reagan plan and in the thinking behind it?**

I suspect it is solidly in the mind of the secretary of state [George Shultz] and of the president. I am not sure it is equally solidly embedded in the minds of all of those who have to execute it. It is clearly contrary to the convictions of our European allies. A strategic decision has to be made whether the proposed negotiations seek to make Jordan the principal negotiating partner or whether they are used as a subterfuge for resurrecting the PLO after its defeat. If we are not clear about this, we will not be clear about whatever else to do. Our European allies, especially, must understand that for them to build up the PLO while we emphasise the role of Hussein is certain to lead to paralysis or worse.

**But is the PLO—its military option apparently destroyed, and deserted as it was by its Arab friends when it needed to exercise it—really such a threat now?**

That remains to be seen; the future evolution of the PLO is one of the key questions before us. I believe its military option has been substantially destroyed except perhaps for terrorism. I would also think that reasonable Palestinians, reflecting about their experience of the past 10 or 15 years, should come to a Sadat-like insight that they must co-exist with Israel in some form: they more than any other people, despite—and perhaps because of—the common suffering Israel and the Palestinians have inflicted on each other. If that happens, a new Palestinian leadership may well emerge, perhaps even under the label of PLO. That would not represent such a threat; it could even turn into a major opportunity.

The PLO in its present composition and with its present programme cannot make such a claim. If the PLO is now resurrected without fundamental structural and philosophical changes, it is likely to remain radical, seeking to upset the equilibrium on the West Bank and to destabilise moderate governments in the area—starting with Jordan. I think it should be given an opportunity to demonstrate a change of approach. But this requires more than ambiguous phrases hinting at recognition of Israel. It presupposes a true turn towards the political option reflected in the PLO's structure, programme and personalities.

**Can Arafat, now that the PLO is dispersed and has its military teeth drawn, carry a suitably reformed organisation into association with Jordan?**

I do not know and perhaps he does not either.

**What specific measures should be negotiated on the West Bank for Israel's security?**

There is no such thing as absolute security, but there is such a thing as absolute insecurity. As President Reagan pointed out, the narrow neck of Israel between Haifa and Tel Aviv, with a width of only nine miles in some places, cannot be considered a secure frontier whatever the degree of Arab recognition of Israel. The areas essential for an improvement in Israel's security on the West Bank are not heavily populated by Arabs. Thus it should be possible to return to the overwhelming majority of Arabs living on the West Bank and Gaza a controlling voice in facing their future. The precise location of these security frontiers will have to be settled by negotiation.

**Is recognition of Israel a starting point for negotiation or the end-result?**

In negotiations between Israel and Arabs the question of recognition plays a disproportionate and unprecedented role.

In all other negotiations mutual recognition is assumed at the outset. I know no other negotiation in which a country is asked to accept recognition of its existence as the principal quid pro quo. The Israelis sometimes give the impression that their sole objective is recognition and some Arabs, perhaps sensing the opportunity, seem to imagine that they can achieve their maximum programme in return for nothing more than simple recognition. So I would be much more interested in how the PLO in fact conducts itself towards the peace process than in arcane formulae of recognition. However, the issue of recognition has become so symbolic that it cannot be avoided. Recognition of Israel is the beginning of a process, not the end; it does not meet—by itself—the needs of the situation. It is not, when all is said, much of a concession for the PLO to make. Many recognised states nevertheless wound up being destroyed even in our own time.

**It comes down to some extent to Israel's sense of being threatened. You have said that Israel's claim to be threatened has either been eliminated or strongly mitigated after the Lebanon military conflict. Does Israel really have as many reasons as it claims it has to go on being fearful?**

In the immediate future, say over five years, it probably has less reason to be militarily fearful than at any time in its history. However, over an historic period a nation of 3m, in whatever borders can be conceived, surrounded by 100m people that will never be fully reconciled to (even once they have accepted) its existence, has reason to be uneasy. After all, India has recognised Pakistan as a state and yet one would not describe the relations between them as one of great confidence; Pakistan's sense of being threatened has, rightly or wrongly, never abated. It has remained a root fact of Pakistani politics and diplomacy and I suspect it will be a root fact of Israeli politics even after peace has been negotiated.

Second, the rate at which arms now pour into the area from all sides will

29

sooner or later erode Israel's present qualitative superiority.

Finally Israel must feel, perhaps only subconsciously, that total dependence on a distant superpower is extremely dangerous and precarious. It is after all the essence of a superpower that its perceptions of the dangers may not be calculated by yardsticks relevant to a small country. The Israelis may feel, better than they dare articulate, that, for a nation with a narrow margin of survival, and a people with a history of catastrophe, the line between arrogance and hysteria, between overweening behaviour and panic, is very narrow. If they are pressed too close to that line there could be a political and psychological collapse or a convulsive eruption. This fear is at the same time the secret dream of some of Israel's adversaries.

**You drew attention to that thin dividing line when writing about your own negotiations with Israel. Are we not in danger of elevating that concept in Israel, whereas what we ought to be trying to do is diminish it, and to elevate in its place a combination of more realism and more self-confidence, which would allow Israel both to negotiate and to exist?**

Well, at this point I don't think Israeli self-confidence needs any particular encouragement. Yes, we should encourage Israel to negotiate. Israel is more likely to do so, paradoxically, if it feels compassion on our side, maybe even affection, rather than unremitting pressure. Where we disagree with Israel on substantive points we must be prepared to express this—strongly if necessary. But it is a very difficult manoeuvre to bring off—to press Israel on individual points, as we must do with perseverance, and yet not cumulatively to harass it into emotional and psychic collapse.

This is also important in terms of our negotiating position with the Arabs. Arab leaders are given an incentive to be conciliatory only so long as it is clear that our support requires reasonable and moderate positions on their part. If, however, the impression spreads that across-the-board opposition to Israel is built into us, so to speak, then their temptation to stick to their maximum programme is very great. In other words I feel that pressure on Israel should be exerted retail rather than wholesale, if one can put it in such crude terms.

**You talk of the conditions for Arabs getting “our support”. Yet American support for Israel during the past 18 months has often been flouted, to the point that the Arabs must wonder what it is worth. Can America afford to see its wishes ignored so openly by a small,**

If Hussein steps forward

**determined ally? And what, if it cannot, should it do about it?**

The Israeli outrage at the unilateral procedures preceding the Reagan plan would have had more moral force had not Israel proceeded unilaterally on a whole series of issues and had it not made challenging our views, sometimes provocatively, almost a principle of policy. America must, as I have said, treat Israel compassionately and seriously. It must do its serious best to achieve prior agreement before taking initiatives affecting Israel's future. In the end we cannot abdicate the definition of our national interests to a small friendly country, however close. Responsible Israeli leaders will know that continual open challenges to our government,

### Pressure on Israel should be exerted retail rather than wholesale

especially to the president, risk the public support for the sustained assistance on which their policy ultimately depends.

**No sanctions?**

I would hope such a point will never be reached.

**It has been an American position and, indeed, almost a universal position since 1967 that the West Bank cannot and should not be annexed by Israel—yet, expressed in terms of concrete, it is being annexed or already has been. Is it now any longer conceivable to talk in terms of negotiation over the West Bank?**

It is not only conceivable; it is imperative. Annexation of the West Bank—overt or disguised—will sow the seeds of endless crises, one of which will inevitably erupt into conflagration. It is not even in the interest of Israel however narrowly conceived. The incorporation of Gaza and

the West Bank into Israel will sooner or later produce an Arab majority that will destroy the essence of the Jewish state. And if Israel seeks to escape this dilemma by expelling all the Arabs it will lose the moral support of even its best friends. Over an historical period Israel would not be able to withstand the crisis that would result.

**Begin has called the idea of an association between Jordan and the West Bank “grotesque”. Should he be required, or asked, in a negotiation to change his mind—and what form of pressure can be brought by the United States to help persuade him to change his mind?**

This is the fundamental issue between the United States government and Begin, so it is unfair to make him the symbol of negotiating difficulties. With respect to Egypt, after all, he made more concessions than I would have expected on the basis of my experience with previous Israeli governments. Granted all this, the present positions of the American and Israeli governments are nearly irreconcilable. As for pressures in the immediate future, the most effective one is for King Hussein to step forward with whatever Arab acquiescence he needs as the Arab negotiator for the West Bank. This would pose for all Israelis the concrete necessity for decisions. So long as the Arab participation in the process remains only hypothetical, the debate will be sterile and bitter. In the meantime the best that America can do is to state a reasonable definition of what it has in mind with respect to both security and to political evolution. If Hussein steps forward and we stick to our course, many Israeli fears will be reduced and responsible opinion in Israel will shift towards such a programme. We need a serious discussion with the Israelis on what we understand to be the security frontiers on the West Bank and what territories we expect would have to be returned.

We need as well a serious dialogue with especially the moderate Arabs. Moderate Arabs must know that their views will be respectfully heard in America; they must not be encouraged to believe that their sole contribution to the negotiations is the willingness to accept Israel. They must avoid the temptation of building an Arab consensus on the prospect of a gradual demoralisation of Israel by American pressure. They as well as Israel should work with us on the definitions of peace and security that are central to the peace process.

**Should America be proposing these?**

As a last resort, yes.

**Prior agreement with Israel rather than**

30

KISSINGER ON THE MIDDLE EAST

**prior agreement with Hussein?**

Hussein will have to be part of the
process; indeed it cannot start without
him. Once negotiations begin, Hussein
has to know what we are discussing with
Israel and has to be given an opportunity
to express his views. In a serious, sus-
tained negotiation with Hussein I do not
believe that any Israeli government could
maintain opposition in principle to the
return of the overwhelming majority of
the Arab populations to some form of
genuine Arab control. Therefore there
should now be a moratorium on further
theoretical exegesis of the Reagan plan;
the urgent problem is to induce the
relevant parties to start negotiating. The
Israelis could maintain their position that
they are negotiating on the basis of Camp
David, and the Arab side would invoke
the Reagan plan; the president has after
all declared the terms are compatible.

**Why should Arafat agree that Hussein step forward?**

Because this is the only way the Palestinians can achieve control over their future. The alternative to the course outlined here is not a PLO state but Israeli annexation of the West Bank and the loss of a historic opportunity.

**Do you feel able to define, in any negotiating terms, what those genuine forms of Arab control would be? And what the relationship, for example, between Jordan and a West Bank entity of some kind would be?**

The Arab population on the West Bank and Gaza must be given a serious opportunity to express their preferences, which means free of Israeli pressure as well as of PLO intimidation. The first phase should be Jordanian control of the West Bank minus agreed Israeli security zones. Jordanian territory on the West Bank would—as seems generally agreed—be demilitarised. Under Jordanian aegis a process to elicit the genuine preferences of the Palestinians should then be started. This can take many forms, some as yet unforeseeable, but maintaining an association with Jordan is central. I do not believe that it is in the interests of the majority of Arab states to create a Libyan or a South Yemenite type of regime on the West Bank.

**Unlikely, given the nature of Palestinians, isn't it?**

Unlikely unless outside pressures can be exercised in the form of terrorism. As the Palestinians develop an organisation that is genuinely geared to a political rather than to a military contest—or adapt existing organisations to that process—we should be open-minded with respect to their ultimate role. It would be more

appropriately negotiated between the
Palestinians and Jordan and other moder-
ate Arab states than by us.

We've talked about the dangers inherent
in any form of pressure put on Israel . . .
I am not saying "any" form of pressure.
It is the nature of Israel's politics that its
leaders probably can make some concessions
only when it is absolutely clear that
America cannot be persuaded to an alternative; therefore it is imperative for the
United States to be ready to state its own
view and to persevere in the face of
opposition. But it also requires, as I have
said, acceptable Arab interlocutors with a
reasonable programme.

That raises the second question I was
coming to about pressure on Israel: how
manageable is that in terms of American
politics? I recall the time of President
Ford's "reassessment", for example.

Circumstances have changed enormously.
I would think, in terms of current
American politics, the greater probability
is that leadership and public opinion will
turn so emphatically against Israel that
reasonable Israeli positions will no longer

Reagan's initiative must yield
tangible results while the
impact of the PLO's lost military
option is still fresh in
everybody's mind

be entertained and the long-term psycho-
logical threat to Israel will not be correctly
evaluated. Certainly it is much easier
for an American government to state its
own position on individual issues than it
was in 1975.

You don't think you're saying that just
because the Sabra and Chatila massacres
are so recently in the American public's
memory?

No. Well before the Lebanese crisis,
American leadership opinion was moving
decisively against the definitions that
were commonly advanced by Jerusalem.

Is there a similar danger—I think of
Sadat's last years—of destabilising Arab
regimes that we would prefer not to
destabilise, by having them associate
themselves closely with compromises
which are difficult for them to make and
which associate them with the current
state of affairs in Israel? I think, of
course, obviously of Jordan, but also of
Saudi Arabia.

Perhaps. In my view the Camp David
process played a relatively small role in
the destabilisation of Sadat. The major
cause was the growth of fundamentalism

in the Arab world. And also the start of a
feeling that perhaps we were shifting
from Egypt to other Arab states that had
dissociated from the peace process. The
question arose in some Egyptian minds
whether it had all been worth it since it
seemed possible to gain all the benefits of
American friendship without having run
the risks of Camp David.

That was true for Saudi Arabia, was it true for Jordan?

No, it was true for Saudi Arabia and it
was not true of Jordan only because
Jordan was not convinced enough that we
could deliver.

I wonder if fundamentalism and the peace
process can be divorced that easily in the
fevered mind? Is not the American em-
brace an incitement to fundamentalists?

Just as we have to pay attention to the
intangibles of the Israeli situation, we
have to take seriously the intangibles of
the Arab situation and not push friendly
governments beyond the point that in
everybody's best judgment is domestically
tolerable.

A successful peace process must be
seen, first, to reflect the preferences of at
least the moderate Arab states and, second,
it must move fairly rapidly. The
need for a consensus of Arab moderates
is another reason why Arab states undermine
themselves if they put on us the
entire responsibility for the success of the
peace process. As for the second condition,
in so far as the autonomy negotiations
weakened Sadat, their length and
inconclusiveness was more important
than their content. If the autonomy negotiations
had led to a fairly rapid
result....

Somewhere, so to speak.

Somewhere, even on terms that were
questioned. So long as Sadat could have
said that his method brought about some
improvement in the situation where nobody
else had produced anything, I think
he could have enhanced his position in
Egypt and even in the rest of the Arab
world through the autonomy negotiations.
Therefore the negotiations that are
now, one hopes, about to start must be
concluded in a reasonably brief period of
time, say 12 to 18 months. If they grow
very prolonged, a moderate position will
be cumulatively difficult to sustain and
the domestic support of the participating
governments will erode. Reagan's initiative
must yield some tangible results
while the impact of the PLO's lost military
option is still fresh in everybody's
mind.

It is said that American officials are
disappointed in the Saudi support of the

33

KISSINGER ON THE MIDDLE EAST

Reagan plan. Should they be?

It has been a consistent error of some of
our policymakers to expect Saudi Arabia
to deliver an Arab-consensus. Saudi-Arab
bia is in no position to do so; it is wise not
to let itself be tempted into the complex
details of the West Bank negotiations.
Were we to prevail we would weaken the
kingdom without furthering the negotia-
tion process.

Saudi Arabia faces simultaneously the
uncertainties of rapid modernisation and
the challenges of Islamic fundamental-
ism. It has a secular radical neighbour to
the south in the People's Democratic
Republic of Yemen; a perhaps reformed
but always potentially radical neighbour
in Iraq to the north. Across the Gulf it
faces traditional Iranian expansionism al-
lied to religious fanaticism; across the
Red Sea there is a Soviet and Cuban base
in Ethiopia. The kingdom would be
tempting fate if it involved itself in all the
passions of the Palestinian negotiations;
it surely needs no additional enemies.

We must keep Saudi leaders informed
of our plans, solicit their judgment, and
take their views seriously. This dialogue
will prosper in direct proportion to the
discretion with which it is conducted. We
may find Saudi leaders helpful where this
can be done behind the scenes. To seek
more is to deflect the kingdom from what
are surely our common aims: security
against covetous neighbours and against
radical forces within.

It was interesting to see Syria's foreign
minister in Washington last month visit-
ing President Reagan along with more
moderate Arabs. Do you think that Syria
is going to play the same blocking role that
it has appeared to play before?

I am struck by the presence of the Syrian
foreign minister in Washington and also
by the interview given by the information
minister, Iskandar, last month. Both of
these events indicate a desire by Syria not
to be left out of the negotiating process.
If Syria plays a blocking role it may be
more to achieve pre-eminence over the
Palestinians than because of its objection
to the concept of the settlement.

Syria usually wants a price, doesn't it, for
participation, both from the Saudis in
financial terms but also from others in
political terms. Do you see the same
pattern repeating itself?

Yes, but also Syria is now in a very
difficult position because its military vul-
nerability has been clearly demonstrated
and it cannot believe that it has a serious
military option against Israel.

Is it conceivable to see Syria in any
negotiation which still leaves the Golan
Heights not its own? Strategically, if I

were the Israelis, I would want the Golan
Heights long before I would want Nablus.

It is not necessary for Syria to participate
in West Bank negotiations. It is enough
for it to acquiesce in them. In any event,
the West Bank negotiations as I envisage
them are unlikely to result in a peace
treaty. They can at best lead to an interim
agreement of a long duration—say 10 to
15 years. As for the Golan, I have always
believed that in time it is possible to make
another step there in return for some-
thing like non-belligerency that would
enable Syria to maintain its principles and
still participate in the process.

And Israel its security?

And Israel maintain its security by keep-
ing a foothold on the Heights.

Jerusalem: you said earlier that it was a
non-starter that it should become a UN
city. That could by implication suggest
that you feel that it's a non-starter that
Jerusalem become internationalised in
some way that allows all sides their access
and pride in it.

Israel will rather go to war than abandon
a united Jerusalem as its capital. I think
that as part of an interim agreement

America's embrace must be real
and serious, but as subtle and
non-public as possible

something like the Vaticanisation of the
holy places is conceivable and would be a
wise Israeli move. Again, I have no
illusions about the difficulty of achieving
even this much; more than that is anyhow
unattainable in the initial phase of negoti-
ations. Any attempt to go beyond that
would be to invite the collapse of negotia-
tions and the building of an Israeli con-
sensus that would make Israelis prefer
isolation, even war, to any peace process.

Since neither Camp David nor the
Reagan plan envisages a comprehensive
peace at this stage the negotiations which
are now in prospect cannot achieve a final
settlement. The best that is attainable is a
long interim agreement, say 10 to 15
years. Israel would agree to new lines on
the West Bank in return for non-belliger-
ency and precisely defined steps of nor-
malisation with at least the moderate
Arab states.

A step, in other words.

Yes, but 10 to 15 years is a very long time
in the Middle East. Many other things are
going to happen in that period which
would put matters into a new perspective.

Is it a footnote to ask you, or do you think
it should be an essential part of American

strategy, to conceive that, were there a
favourable outcome to the kind of prob-
lems we've been discussing, greater av-
nues of co-operation would open up with
Arab states in dealing with the threats in
the Gulf?

The moderate Arab states of the Gulf
must be looking now for opportunities for
greater co-operation with the United
States. Their self-interest is so intimately
tied with American protection of both
their internal structure and their borders
against the danger developing from radi-
calism: either in the fundamentalist Iran-
ian indigenous form or (which is not at all
inconceivable to me) in the form of some
domination of Iran by the Soviet Union if
the Tudeh or some similar group were to
succeed Khomeini. And they face a
threat too from secular radical Arabs like
South Yemen or even Iraq. I would look
at the West Bank/Gaza negotiations not
as producing a change of mind—I think
the change of mind about the desirability
of American co-operation has already
occurred—but as making it domestically
feasible for the Arabs of the Gulf to
implement what they know to be
necessary.

"Domestically feasible for them to imple-
ment what they know is necessary": how
close an American embrace does that
mean? American bases, or . . . ?

The countries in the Gulf have to under-
stand that we are prepared to protect
both their domestic structure and their
frontiers; and they need to be given
confidence in the means which we will
use. It would be extraordinarily desirable
if we could repress our tendency for
publicity, and if our military could re-
strain their compulsion to establish a
visible presence.

How do you not publicise a military base,
for example?

By not establishing it. I think what we
need is installations into which we could
move rapidly; a physical presence near
the Gulf that is plausible; and a demon-
stration of how we could reinforce this
presence. And we must generate a credi-
ble capability for rapid support against
internal upheaval. The embrace must be
real and serious, but as subtle and non-
public as possible.

I much agree with you. You don't see the
negotiation on the West Bank as a precon-
dition for that?

No, but it would ease it greatly. I can
conceive that Gulf governments, despite
their very best judgment, might find
themselves in a position where they have
to court internal collapse because they
simply cannot be associated with a total
failure of the West Bank negotiations.

34

## "A la recherche du temps perdu"

Depuis 1937, Thor Heyerdahl se posait la même question.

Les anciennes civilisations du Mexique, du Pérou, de Polynésie, d'Égypte et de Mésopotamie pouvaient-elles avoir une origine commune?

Il fallait alors prouver que la traversée des trois océans du globe avait été accomplie bien avant que les Européens ne l'entreprennent. En 1947, Heyerdahl appareillait de la côte du Pérou sur le radeau de rondins de balsa "Kon Tiki". 101 jours plus tard, le Kon Tiki arrivait en vue des îles de Polynésie.

En 1970, le bateau de papyrus Râ II de Thor Heyerdahl quittait l'Afrique. Cinquante sept jours plus tard, le Râ II accostait à La Barbade, de l'autre côté de l'Atlantique.

Entre 1977 et 1978, Heyerdahl entreprisait à nouveau, en Irak, la construction d'un bateau de papyrus "Tigris". Il mit le cap sur le golfe d'Oman avant de se diriger vers l'entree de la Mer Rouge. Là, une guerre locale arrêta son voyage mais le Tigris avait prouvé que les antiques civilisations du pays de Sumer, de la vallée de l'Indus et de l'Egypte avaient pu avoir des échanges maritimes.

"Les océans n'ont pas séparé les premières civilisations" dit Thor Heyerdahl.

"Ils les ont reliées".

Le succès des expéditions de Thor Heyerdahl reposait sur une organisation minutieuse, dans ses moindres détails.

"Nous avons navigué à bord d'embarcations, répliques fidèles de celles qu'expérimentèrent les premiers navigateurs" dit Heyerdahl.

"Nous avons adopté leurs méthodes de gréement et de navigation, subsisté grâce aux mêmes vivres et éprouvé leurs instruments de navigation archaïques". Mais pour réaliser le tracé scientifique précis de nos routes de même que pour assurer les liaisons radio obligatoires à l'entrée des ports actuels et dans les chenaux de navigation, nous avons eu besoin d'un

instrument dont les anciens pouvaient se passer: une montre moderne très fiable, d'une extrême précision.

Le choix d'un des plus grands navigateurs du monde nous honore. Les montres de Thor Heyerdahl et de son équipage étaient des Rolex.

ROLEX

GENÈVE

*Une Rolex mérite le prestige*
*dont elle jouit.*

La Rolex GMT-Master. Documentation sur demande à SAF des Montres Rolex, 10 avenue de la Grande Armée, 75017 PARIS.

continued

porters with me—Marvin Kalb, Ted Koppeel, Richard Valeriani, Barrie Dunsmore. These were people who were not just covering with pictures. They really knew something about the substance. I met with them on a thinly disguised background basis after every meeting I had, and I gave them a sort of philosophical appreciation of what I was trying to do." He never told them precisely what was said in the meetings, but rather gave them "a sense of where I was trying to head," and once they understood that "I was telling the truth about my purposes," the newsmen, he feels, were able to put it all in perspective for their viewers and readers.

The brevity of the evening news programs, it is suggested to Kissinger, occasionally causes distortion by omission or compression, especially on complex stories relating to foreign affairs. "I think those programs are anchored by serious, responsible people who would not deliberately distort the news," he answers. "But they have a maximum of two minutes for each item. And the impact of what they say is importantly affected by the picture that goes with it. The combination of picture and text can have a very major impact." Thus, events with a high visual component, such as the bombardment of Beirut, are often more successfully conveyed, he suggests, than a speech by Andropov, the "intangibles" of which are very difficult to explain on television.

Didn't that same difficulty obtain with regard to Vietnam, the television coverage of which is often credited with hastening the war's end? "The daily pictures on television were bound to create a feeling of revulsion against the war," Kissinger replies. "Television obviously couldn't go behind the other side's lines. So the casualties that were being photographed were always on our side of the lines. I guess that's inherent. Still, I wouldn't ask television reporters not to cover the war. The British were fortunate in the Falkland Islands crisis in that it didn't lend itself to television coverage."

In spite of Kissinger's prolonged labors at the Paris peace talks to hammer out

an orderly disengagement in Vietnam (for which he and the North Vietnamese negotiator, Le Duc Tho, shared the Nobel Peace Prize), the image that most Americans retain of our last days in that war-torn land come mostly from the powerful television pictures of U.S. soldiers and civilians evacuating frantically into helicopters from the rooftops of Saigon. Does it bother Henry Kissinger that, thanks to television, it is that ignominious tableau that Americans remember and not his efforts to negotiate a departure? "No, I actually think that was a fair image," he answers. "That is what happened. The tragedy is that, for five years before that, there was a systematic denigration of the effort, and almost all journalists had turned against the war. But so had we. I didn't disagree with the need to end it: I was desperate to end it, as was President Nixon, under conditions that were not humiliating for our country, and did not create more troubles elsewhere and more suffering for the people of Indochina." But public opinion was irrevocably against any continued involvement at all, and the North Vietnamese knew it. "When the final collapse came, I think the television pictures reflected it accurately. It was an evacuation from rooftops—maybe the saddest moment in the conduct of foreign policy while I was in office."

Founding a foreign policy on public opinion, however, is dangerous practice, Kissinger is convinced. "You have to ask yourself: what does the public want from its leaders? I think the public expects its leaders to take it to a better future that they themselves cannot necessarily define. The public will judge its leaders by the results they achieve. Of course, as a leader, one has to take public opinion seriously. But one also has to take seriously one's own judgment of the consequences of an action."

During the Watergate period, was it not the televised Congressional hearings that had perhaps the most telling impact upon public opinion, leading up to the resignation of President Nixon? "I learned most of what I know about Watergate from the

6

media," Kissinger says. "In the White House, there was almost never any discussion in which I participated on the substance of Watergate. And I sometimes wonder if there was any discussion. Because everybody kept whatever he knew apparently to himself." Still, he has serious doubts about the rectitude of putting people before Congressional committees and live television cameras without allowing them to cross-examine their accusers. That's no criticism of television itself, he is quick to point out, but only of the legal procedure. "I knew the people involved, and while many of them had done things that were very wrong—when you know them and know their families, you hate to see them in that position."

Does Henry Kissinger have any suggestions about how to improve TV's news coverage? As it happens, he does. "The first thing is that the evening news programs ought to be an hour. When they report an Andropov speech, for example, or a Reagan speech, there ought to be more time given to analysis, maybe over a series of evenings so that the average citizen knows what it is that's being proposed here, and what its weak points and strong points are." He'd also like to see more television documentaries even though, relatively speaking, very few people watch them. "You're still talking about, perhaps, five million people and that's more than you can reach any other way, and more than anybody could have reached thirty years ago."

The Sunday morning network interview programs perform a useful service, he feels. The one he much prefers is *This Week with David Brinkley* on ABC. "I think that is in a class by itself. It's got a very flexible structure. He can adjust it better to fast-breaking news." Still, those interview programs "are not designed for people like me. In my field, presumably I will know the person and I will know more or less what he's going to say." The interviewee's manner of handling himself most of the time "is more interesting to me than what he actually says."

In general, what are Henry Kissinger's television-watching habits? "Actually, →

TV GUIDE APRIL 2, 1983

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continued

I hate to tell you. I watch sports, old movies, news and news specials. I watch almost none of the serials. *Dallas* was on for two years before I saw it. Now I've seen it a few times. I watch football and baseball." He likes the 24-hour-a-day Cable News Network "because you don't have to wait until 7 o'clock" to find out what's happening in the world.

Kissinger, in fact, is not a totally dis-
interested party as regards television
news. He has a contractual tie to ABC
News that gives them first call on his
services for fast-breaking foreign news
stories. It's a "very loose arrangement,"
he claims, which allows him to do routine
interviews on other TV networks as well.
"For example, if somebody wanted my
views on China, or the general condition
of our foreign policy, I would be free to
do that for anybody."

Also, he is planning to create for PBS a major (perhaps 13-part) series on American foreign policy, putting it in a "historical perspective" and exploring the "philosophy and practice" of the art of diplomacy. He has already outlined the series for PBS and suspects he'll "have to free about a year of my time to do that as my principal activity." So first, he'll finish the third volume of his memoirs (companion to the massive volumes already in print: "White House Years" and "Years of Upheaval") and 'sometime over the next year" hopes to start work on the television series.

That will be one more moment on stage
for a public figure who has rarely—ac-
cording to friend and foe—shrunk from
the bright lights of publicity. Is that
impression of him justified? "If you asked
people who were my colleagues at Har-
vard before I came to Washington, they
would not have predicted—and I would
not have predicted—that I would become
a subject of great publicity. It may sound
unbelievable. I did not seek it."

Nixon came to resent the fact that you
did become an object of great media
attention, he is reminded.

"Absolutely," he says. "Any President
would. No President likes to share the
'spotlight." (END)

TV GUIDE APRIL 2, 1983

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'Miss Snoop'
Keeps Them
Tied in Knots

Donna Mills' fights for better scripts and clothing don't endear her to 'Knots Landing' executives

Mario Casilli

By Bill O'Hallaren

Donna Mills, the deliciously feline Abby Cunningham of CBS's *Knots Landing*, and Ted Shackelford, who is Gary Ewing—the schlummpp, and her latest prey—are splashing in a spa overlooking the Malibu surf and trying to look wickedly sexy, which takes some doing considering it's early morning, the temperature is 50 and a bitter wind is howling. After nearly three hours Mills bobs up and cries to a visitor, "Look, I'm a prune."

Some prune. But Mills is aware one of the show's goals seems to be to undress her as often and in as many ways as possible. "Actually," she says, "they wanted to do this scene in the surf but

the wind was too strong." Her costumes for the day's shooting include a bikini, a bit of skimpy lingerie and tight jeans. How tight? When Mills wonders, because of the cold, if she couldn't wear something under them, wardrobe mistress Anna Schaeffer retorts, "Honey, we couldn't get a cigarette paper under those pants."

Maintaining a figure producers love to uncover doesn't seem like a lot of fun. At lunch Mills goes past the mounds of food offered by the caterers, selects a piece of fish, takes a couple of tiny bites and then complains to Shackelford, "I just remembered, I wear a teddy in the next scene. The fish will show." "No," he scolds,

10

Rubrique dirigée par André Pautard

> « A la fin du mois, dit Rupert Murdoch, patron du quotidien britannique, les factures, c'est bien moi qui les paie. Alors... »

dénigrent sont des hypocrites. Tous. »

Une rude franchise, typiquement australienne, qui s'accommode mal du ton subtilement nuancé de la bonne société londonienne. Laquelle, il est vrai, ne l'aime guère. Surtout depuis la sombre affaire où la femme de son associé Mc Kay fut enlevée et assassinée, par erreur, à la place de sa propre épouse. Depuis, il mène une vie plutôt casanière à New York. Cette même bonne société, pourtant, sait faire appel à lui lors des élections. Trop hâtivement classé à gauche pendant sa jeunesse, Murdoch avoue : « Je deviens de plus en plus conservateur, partisan de la défense des valeurs traditionnelles, des libertés individuelles. Donc, je suis contre l'Etat-providence, les communistes, le déferlement homosexuel, l'avortement. Je pense que Mrs Margaret Thatcher a plutôt raison que tort, que Ronald Reagan est plus fort que Jimmy Carter. Si je n'appartiens à aucun parti, il serait cependant ridicule que mes journaux affichent des opinions contraires aux miennes. »

On dit qu'il défend Mrs Thatcher en remerciement d'un « coup de pouce » indispensable pour acquérir le « Times ». « Faux. Il suffisait d'arriver au bon moment, de donner toutes les garanties nécessaires aux syndicats. » Aux lecteurs aussi, en renonçant à « la folie de changer le style du journal ».

Restent les réalités économiques d'aujourd'hui. Des pertes grandissantes. Et, pour rétablir la rentabilité, d'inévitables compressions de personnel, que refusent les syndicats. L'horloge qui orne son fronton risque de sonner la dernière heure du « Times ».

Mais... Au fond, le vrai défi de Murdoch est non pas de séduire l'Establishment britannique, mais de conquérir, là-bas, en Australie, le « Melbourne Herald ». Le journal dont rêvait papa...

L'EXPRESS - 12 MARS 1982

Photo : Kiprano/Sipa Press

69

KISSINGER

→ Suite de la page 70

11 septembre 1970 entre J.D. Neal, directeur des relations internationales d'I.t.t., et Viron P. Vaky, membre du Conseil national de sécurité (C.n.s.), chargé de l'Amérique latine. Neal y évoquait la « préoccupation » du président d'I.t.t., Harold S. Geneen, « à l'égard de la situation au Chili ». Neal aurait demandé à Vaky de me dire qu'I.t.t. était « prêt à fournir une aide financière pouvant atteindre sept chiffres ». Anderson notait « la réception généralement polie mais fraîche » de la Maison-Blanche, du personnel du C.n.s. et du Département d'Etat à cette initiative d'I.t.t. Il soulignait aussi que la C.i.a. l'avait accueillie « plus chaleureusement ».

Je ne sais pas jusqu'où les documents internes d'I.t.t. étaient vrais, mais les révélations d'Anderson sur le C.n.s. étaient largement exactes. J'avais rencontré deux représentants d'I.t.t. en septembre 1970, à la demande de Peter Flanigan, alors collaborateur du Président. Ils avaient proposé d'aider financièrement celui ou ceux qui empêcheraient Allende d'accéder au pouvoir. Je les économisais, poliment. Je considérais que ce genre d'activité ne relevait pas de l'entreprise privée.

Mais, dans l'atmosphère enfiévrée de 1972, les articles d'Anderson incitèrent Allende à précipiter sa course aux nationalisations. Le plan dont ils paraient n'avait, en fait, jamais été accepté par le gouvernement des Etats-Unis – et ils le reconnaissaient tout à fait. Les efforts similaires du gouvernement – qu'Allende ignorait probablement – avaient aussi été abandonnés presque deux ans plus tôt. Pourtant, le gouvernement d'Allende ne perdit pas un instant pour impliquer l'opposition démocratique dans un prétendu complot organisé par la C.i.a. Le 23 mars 1972, la Confédération unie du travail (C.u.t.) organisa quatre manifestations pour soutenir le gouvernement contre l'« intervention impérialiste ». Le 28 mars, exploitant l'atmosphère d'indignation nationale, le ministre de l'Intérieur gauchiste Hernan del Canto accusa sans preuves des conspirateurs de droite d'être encouragés par les Etats-Unis pour organiser l'assassinat d'Allende et la prise de pouvoir.

Lorsque le Parlement chilien fut à nouveau en session, il nomma le 28 mars une commission de treize membres pour enquêter sur l'intervention supposée d'I.t.t. au Chili en 1970. Les dirigeants de l'opposition étaient désormais sur la défensive. Ils démen-

tirent avec colère avoir eu des contacts avec la C.i.a. Ils exigèrent qu'une commission étudie une autre affirmation d'Anderson, selon laquelle l'ambassade cubaine à Santiago encourageait la révolution armée. Jack Anderson, pendant une brève période, était devenu un personnage central dans la politique chilienne.

Le 11 avril 1972, un groupe d'études du C.n.s. se réunit sous ma présidence pour analyser les événements du Chili. Un document préparé par mon nouveau collaborateur du C.n.s., chargé des questions d'Amérique latine, William J. Orden, résumait notre politique avec pertinence : « Nous avons fait de grands efforts en faveur des sociétés américaines pour obtenir des

Sans changer de politique, le Chili obtint le report de presque toutes ses dettes pendant un an – cette forme d'aide économique dépassa tout ce qu'avait reçu en un an le gouvernement démocrate précédent. (...)

Pourtant, les problèmes intérieurs d'Allende se multipliaient. L'inefficacité prodigieuse de son gouvernement et l'inflation galopante provoquée par ses politiques érodaient de mois en mois la stabilité du système politique et la cohésion sociale. Même un dirigeant du Parti communiste, Orlando Millas, reconnut en mars 1972 que le problème central était de faire fonctionner les entreprises nationalisées « avec les mêmes immenses profits qu'elles rapportaient aux capita-

Rassemblées au stade de Santiago, les premières victimes de la répression.

compensations rapides et équitables, ainsi que le remboursement de leurs dettes. (...) Néanmoins, l'affaire Anderson a raidi notre position et mis en question notre motivation politique. Qui plus est, les conversations de Paris sur la renégociation des dettes chiliennes nous contraignent à préciser la position que nous voulons adopter entre une "pression maximale" et une "position extérieure correcte". » (...)

Le résultat des conversations de Paris ne fut pas modifié par les délibérations du groupe d'études. Le secrétaire d'Etat au Trésor John Connally accepta de ne pas nous dissocier des autres pays créanciers et de ne pas donner à Allende l'occasion de nous rendre responsables de ses dettes. Connally s'en tint à la position commune : le réaménagement de la dette chilienne (environ 250 millions de dollars). En échange, le Chili accepta de respecter ses engagements internationaux, nécessité minimale s'il voulait rester crédible. (...)

listes ». Il semblait que l'expropriation multipliât les coûts et réduisît la productivité ; et cela alimentait l'inflation, qui atteignit en 1972 un taux officiel annuel de 163 % (avant de bondir jusqu'à 350 %), avec un effet dévastateur sur l'économie et le tissu social. Les tensions politiques intérieures devinrent telles qu'à la fin de mars 1972 Allende suspendit le Parlement chilien pendant une semaine.

Tout cela se produisit alors que l'aide étrangère au Chili était, en fait, plus importante que pendant toute période antérieure comparable. L'accord différant le remboursement des 250 millions de dollars dus à l'Occident s'accompagna d'un flot de crédits en croissance continue du monde communiste. Lorsque Allende fut renversé, les crédits communistes s'élevaient à plus de 600 millions de dollars. Et, contrairement au mythe, les liens plus étroits avec le monde communiste ne se révélèrent pas un obstacle à l'amélioration graduelle des

72