»Als Steinbock, am 14. Januar 1912 geboren, bin ich zeitlebens viel »herumgesprungen«: auf dem Sportplatz, auf dem Tanzboden im kleinen und auf jenem »Tanzboden«, den die Welt darstellt. Das begann schon mit einundzwanzig, als ich den Balkan bereiste und erst nach 9 Monaten wieder heimkam — zum Schrecken meiner seßhaften Eltern, die vom Eichsfeld bzw. aus dem Harz stammten und selten den Wohnort Nordhausen verließen. Während des Krieges mußte ich, glücklicherweise, weniger und unblutiger »reisen« als viele andere. Dafür trieb ich mich — freiwillig oder geladen — später ausgiebig in der Welt herum, nachdem ich am Bodensee eine zweite Heimat gefunden hatte. (Dabei begegneten mir außer 2 schielenden Löwen und vielen interessanten Exemplaren jeglicher Gattung manches Chamäleon und mancher Esel.) Ich habe die Menschen früher sehr ernst genommen — was sie mir mit Gleichem heimzahlten. Heute mißfällt manchen, daß ich über sie lächle. Die Humorlosigkeit ist in Deutschland bis in die höchsten Kreise verbreitet. Vielleicht hatten wir deshalb in diesem Jahrhundert »nichts zu lachen«.

»In jungen Jahren hatte ich zwei Ambitionen: einmal aktiv an Olympischen Spielen teilzunehmen, zum anderen: ein guter Poet zu werden. Da es mit der Schriftstellerei Weile hatte, strebte ich mit der (damals noch) Bambusstange in die Höhe und trainierte für jene Spiele (Helsinki, 1940), die der 2. Weltkrieg dann illusorisch machte. Neben dem Leistungssport galt meine Vorliebe immer dem Faltboot, das mich als Reise-Vehikel zweimal donau-abwärts trug. Später entdeckte ich (nach Weser, Rhein und Rhöne) auch reizvolle Wildflüsse wie Salzach oder Drina, und seit zwei Jahrzehnten lockt dann und wann auch die Fläche des Bodensees zu Spazierfahrten und Segelpartien. Bei vier nachwachsenden Kindern gab es nie Mangel an Partnern.«

Foto: Christian Moses

Für seine brillanten Plädoyers und die unmittelbare Prosa von den »römischen« Spielen verlieh das Internationale Olympische Komitee Rudolf Hagelstange anläßlich der 60 Session des IOC in Baden-Baden-dasOlympische Diplom, das ihm am Tag der Eröffnung der IX. Olympischen Winterspiele in Innsbruck von IOC-Präsident Avery Brundage (rechts) überreicht wurde.

Seit Rußland (1962) hat Rudolf Hagelstange nicht nur Südamerika (unten rechts: in Brasilien), den Mittleren und Vorderen Osten bis nach Indien und Japan hinauf bereist (unten: in Indien; Begrüßung durch Dr. Radhakrishnan, den damaligen indischen Präsidenten und Friedenspreisträger des deutschen Buchhandels. Links: In Japan) — seine Neugier hat ihn auch auf eine zweite Amerika-Reise gehen lassen, die ihn in vielfältige Berührung mit der Jugend brachte und in vordem nicht »erfahrene« Landschaften.

## Der langerwartete große Roman: Altherrensommer

In diesem großen Roman entführt Hagelstange seine Leser auf einem italienischen Schiff bis in das ferne Asien. Zwei Deutsche, ein jüngerer Reporter und ein älterer Schriftsteller, begegnen einander in der in jeder Hinsicht »gemischten« Gesellschaft eines Passagier-Dampfers, entdecken Freundschaft füreinander und teilen sich in das Erleben und Beobachten.

Beide führt das Schicksal ins Unerwartete. Dem Jüngeren, für den die Reise mehr und mehr Fluchtweg aus einer frustrierenden Bindung an eine ältere Frau wird, wirft es die Chance für einen neuen Anfang im Fernen Osten zu; den Älteren führt es einer nicht mehr erhofften menschlichen und erotischen Erfahrung mit einer jungen Burmesin entgegen.

Heiterkeit und Melancholie, kritische Distanz und engagierte Teilnahme sind die Wesenszüge dieses zweiten großen Romans von Rudolf Hagelstange.

## Erstauflage 30 Tausend

NATIONAL AFFAIRS

News conference, 37 members of Congress filed into the Cabinet Room to present the President with petitions signed by precisely 363,053 backers of his Vietnam policy. After leafing through the boxes of petitions, Mr. Nixon let it be known that he planned to keep up the momentum with another public accounting on the war. The White House announced later that the speech-a short sequel to Mr. Nixon's Nov. 3 address--would be made this week. In it, he was expected to set the size of the next troop withdrawal. A cut of 50,000 men would bring the total for 1969 to the previously intimated-at goal of 100,000.

**Problems:** Later in the week Mr. Nixon launched a round of consultations with prominent figures outside his Administration. Among those who turned up at the White House were former Secretary of State Dean Acheson, former New York Gov. Thomas E. Dewey and retired Gen. Lucius D. Clay. But the principal visitor of the week was Lyndon B. Johnson. During a breakfast meeting in the White House family dining room, the President and the ex-President discussed the situation in Vietnam, along with some of the other delicate matters confronting the United States. Two hours after he arrived, Johnson emerged from the White House, climbed into a waiting limousine and sped off without pausing to comment on his talks with Mr. Nixon. Later LBJ told an intimate wryly: "I think I have some understanding of the President's problems."

Perhaps the surest evidence of Mr. Nixon's firm grip on the home front came at the weekend when the Vietnam Moratorium Committee launched the third round in what it once hoped would be growing war on the war. Compared to the October and November moratoriums, the mid-December activities were decidedly low-key affairs. On both coasts of the country, where hundreds of thousands had mustered last month to protest against Mr. Nixon's conduct of the war, the December moratorium seemed half-started and uncoordinated.

**Sputtering:** For the moment, the peace movement seemed to be sputtering down. In Washington, leaders of the moratorium Committee, plagued by a shortage of money and a decline in enthusiasm, abandoned the original concept of an escalating protest each month. What could we do for eight days in May?" said Marge Sklencar, one of the time movers behind the one-day October and two-day November demonstrations. Now, the moratorium people toyed with the idea of disbanding, or at least focusing on more modest goals such as the 1970 Congressional elections. Even there, however, there was further evidence that Mr. Nixon was winning the battle for public opinion. For a good many congressmen and senators up for election were openly wondering whether, given the current climate, erodes of youngsters working in their half might not hurt more than help.

Newsweek—Wally McNamee

Kissinger in the Situation Room: Endless hours of constant mental motion

# Mr. Nixon's Professor
## Kissinger and the New Shape of U.S. Foreign Policy

Exactly eleven months have passed since Henry Alfred Kissinger of Cambridge, Mass., went down to Washington, D.C., to hang his ersatz-parchment commission shingle, attesting to Richard Nixon's "special trust and confidence in your integrity, prudence and ability," on the wall of his shop at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Physically, he has made few changes in the White House's west basement, the traditional lair of the President's Assistant for National Security Affairs. The tiny, walnut-paneled Situation Room still looks more like a Holiday Inn conference chamber than the grotesque fantasy of Stanley Kubrick's "Dr. Strange-love." Intelligence cables, which are supposed to keep Mr. Nixon in touch with reality, worldwide, continue to whir off the duplicating machines night and day. The battery of secretaries still looks properly harried, overworked and blandly expectant of imminent crisis, as befits an office where crisis is measured by the color of the telephone reporting it. There is only one really personal, and unintentionally ironic, Kissinger touch: in the far corner of his modest 16- by 21-foot inner sanctum, where the décor remains an undisturbing neuter, stands a battered old spin globe of the world, with a penciled note stuck inside its wooden frame, warning: "Do not touch-fragile."

Professor Kissinger, lately of Harvard, is not much given to material signs of status. Yet by any realistic standards of power and influence, he now ranks very high indeed. As the first year of the Nix-

on Administration draws to a close, Kissinger has firmly established himself as a predominant force in the shaping and implementation of U.S. foreign policy, a man on whom the President relies more than on any other in the White House and, consequently, one of the half-dozen most important personalities in Washington-and thus in the world.

In the blurry Milky Way of Nixonian Washington, Kissinger's star is one of the few to burn brightly and distinctly. Foreign diplomats treat him as a virtual Secretary of State ex officio; their wives vie for the pleasure and prestige of his company at ambassadorial dinner parties, where his attendance is duly noted in official cables home the next day. Kissinger sits in and speaks up at most Presidential encounters with world leaders. He spends more time with Mr. Nixon alone than any of his peers-an average of 90 minutes a day in and out of the Oval Office, uncounted minutes on the intercom phone, long informal chats at the Camp David retreat and on the beaches of Key Biscayne and San Clemente. He is admired, respected, resented, envied, even feared by the cumbersome national-security apparatus he is determined to change-that Byzantine labyrinth of the Pentagon, State Department, Disarmament, Information and other agencies whose chief reason for being, it often seems to the White House, is to preserve the status quo without endangering their own parochial interests.

Down to his bitten fingernails, horn-

December 22, 1969

21

NATIONAL AFFAIRS

rimmed glasses and self-deprecating wit, Kissinger, 46, is unmistakably and unashedly an Eastern intellectual in a government that has shown no great love for the genus, Improbably enough, however, his very east of mind has given him real cachet and helped make him a celebrity in Washington—a remarkable achievement in itself for a deeply serious, slow-talking, graying, middle-aged professor who has never quite lost the traces of a Teutonic accent and manner he carried across the Atlantic when, as a Jewish refugee of 15, he fled Nazi Germany in 1938.

**Romance:** All of this makes Kissinger fine newspaper copy and a favorite subject, and frequent target, of cocktail and office chitchat. As one of Washington's most eligible bachelors (his fifteen-year marriage ended in divorce in 1964), Kissinger is pursued by gossip columnists

fifteen-hour days in the White House—buttressed by a talented staff of about three dozen experts and administrative aides handpicked from Washington officialdom and academic think tanks, many of whom match his weekly time-card record. (Several Kissinger staffers have been unable to keep up to the boss' pace and have left. Policy differences played no role in any of these departures, though personality differences did.)

On the job, Kissinger is in constant mental motion: monitoring and channeling intelligence cables for the President's "eyes only," reading and criticizing enormous reams of reports and papers; chairing interdepartmental policy discussions with Under and Assistant Secretaries for whom he is often the sole link to the Oval Office; receiving an endless stream of official, diplomatic and journalistic visitors; and responding to every Presiden-

Eisenhower's paper factory and relied more on strong-minded national-security assistants, McGeorge Bundy and Walt Rostow, both imported from Cambridge campuses. And now Kissinger, with the blessing of a President with a passion for neatness and order, is well along toward effecting still another transformation of the National Security Council organization—this time into a systematic clearing-house of policy ideas for Mr. Nixon, dominated by Kissinger's own vigorous and continual direction.

In the last hectic years of Johnson's reign, when Vietnam overwhelmed all other considerations, the guiding principle of the NSC seemed to be little more than ad hoc improvisation at Tuesday lunches in the White House. Mr. Nixon and Kissinger agreed well before Jan. 20 that this would no longer do. Their new system, they believe, insures that no policy idea reaches the President without having first undergone Kissinger's rigorous evaluation (unless, of course, it is personally conveyed to Mr. Nixon by the few Cabinet members and friends who enjoy such access). Kissinger's role is crucial at every stage of the making or changing of policy: he initiates studies on everything from U.S. strategic weapons needs in the "70s through the prospects for European unity to the definition of what constitutes a "fact" in Vietnam; he elicits suggestions from the bureaucracy and coordinates interagency action; he formulates the presentation of options with painstaking exactitude; and, not least important, he presents the final series of proposals to the President.

**New Approach:** "The essence of any job," Kissinger explains, "is to use a mechanism to change substance. My goal is a different and, I hope, better approach to policymaking within four years." He insists that he is open to all new ideas and that he goes out of his way to solicit and make them available to the President. To the suggestion that his own ideas must somewhere be inserted in the elaborate policy machine he has constructed for the President, Kissinger reacts with unusual passion. "There is no 'Kissinger policy' on any substantive questions," he insists, his hand stabbimg the air for emphasis. "My task is to convey the full range of policy options to the President. If there were a 'Kissinger policy,' the whole new mechanism we have set up in the National Security Council—not to speak of relations between the governmental agencies—would be in a shambles."

Such disclaimers seem disingenuous to many Washington officials, particularly to those middle-echelon bureaucrats who are convinced Kissinger has pre-empted their policy-shaping prerogatives, turned the White House basement into a "shadow State Department" and thereby in fact created an interagency "shambles." But in public, at least, the once-outspoken professor of government, who established his international reputation on the basis

Newsweek—Wally McNamee

The President and his counselor: Common views and shared convictions

who record his quips and asides, follow him to supermarkets and chronicle his housekeeping trivia as well as his love life. Barbara Howar, Washington's mod Perle Mesta, is one of his dates (she calls him "Super Kraut") and he sometimes turns up at parties with magazine writer Gloria Steinem. The odds-on favorite in the Kissinger matrimonial sweepstakes is a tall, blond New York socialite named Nancy McGinnis, who once worked for him as a researcher in the Rockefeller Foundation. "Romance with a man tailed by a bodyguard is about as sexy as taking a ride in a Brink's armored car," says Barbara Howar with a sly smile. "He'll never marry while he's holding this job."

Given Kissinger's formidable workload, there is probably considerably less to his self-proclaimed image as a "secret swinger" than meets the eye. Six days almost every week and often on Sunday as well, he puts in grueling twelve-

tial request for information and advice, which can range from mundane statistics on Micronesian demography to the life-and-death matter of a downed U.S. spy plane. Most of his meals, tasteless at best, come from the nearby White House mess. And on the few occasions he does get to dine out in restaurants, Kissinger invariably carries an electronic "call-boy" that can summon him to instant communication with the President.

Kissinger does more than merely cope, however. Every President since Harry Truman, who established the National Security Council as the supreme arbiter of Executive policy in 1947, has molded its apparatus in his own image. Dwight Eisenhower turned it into a staff-work machine mostly employed in churning out supposedly definitive—and often irrelevant—papers on every conceivable policy question. John F. Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson dismantled much of

of bold-and unequivocal pronunciamientos on postwar U.S. policy, has studiedly re-frained from the slightest hint of a "Kissinger policy" in any way different from that of the government he serves. "I will not play the game of my predecessor," Kissinger has confided to friends on occasion. "I will not bad-mouth the President by taking credit for what goes right in our policies and blaming him for what goes wrong."

Yet so much of Kissinger's general approach to foreign affairs and specific views of world problems is on the record (box) that trying to distinguish between what is and what is not "Henry's contribution" to Administration policy has become an irresistible Capital pastime. So far, though, it has proved to be a frustrating game. For aside from the two principals themselves, no one really knows what really goes on when Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger closet themselves to discuss policy.

Accord: What is clear, on the basis of the important Administration decisions taken this year, is that the two men hold common views on what should be the basic U.S. approach to foreign affairs in the '70s. Mr. Nixon's trip to Western Europe barely six weeks after he took office re-established that area as primary to the U.S. interest and, at the same time, served notice that the new Administration hoped the Europeans would in the future depend less on Washington than on themselves in solving Continental problems—two themes repeatedly stressed in Kissinger's writings during the past decade. Similarly, the President's early decision to construct a modified anti-ballistic-missile system and to undertake talks with the Russians on strategic-arms limitation (just recently begun in Helsinki) only after the most careful preparation, reflect a shared conviction. Kissinger and his boss both believe that negotiations with Moscow can only succeed if conducted with extreme caution and from a position of real strength.

Generally, too, the President and the professor agree that the U.S. must begin to disengage itself from many of the "bastions of the free world," especially in Asia. Commitments made during the cold war era—which is now, they both believe, slowly coming to an end—no longer seem valid or relevant or in the U.S. interest. If Mr. Nixon himself first spoke of moving from "a period of confrontation" to "an era of negotiation," it is a fairly safe bet that the notion of a new "low profile" for the U.S. originated in Kissinger's shop. And both slogans, repeated so often in recent months, are really expressions of the same fundamental idea: reduce the U.S. presence in the world of the '70s.

Slow disengagement and a lowered U.S. profile was therefore the message carried by the President on his Asian trip last summer. And, significantly, the new Asian policy was first announced publicly at Guam in a statement that contained unmistakable echoes of articles

## A KISSINGER PRIMER ON WAR AND PEACE

Whether in print or in conversation, Henry Kissinger is one of the most provocative diplomatic theorists of the postwar era. A sampling of Kissinger's mind at work:

Those ages which in retrospect seem most peaceful were least in search of peace. Those whose quest for it seems unending appear least able to achieve tranquillity. Whenever peace—conceived as the avoidance of war—has been the primary objective of a power or a group of powers, the international system has been at the mercy of the most ruthless member of the international community. Whenever the international order has acknowledged that certain principles could not be compromised, even for the sake of peace, stability based on an equilibrium of forces was at least conceivable.

—"A World Restored," 1957

It is a mistake to assume that diplomacy can always settle international disputes if there is "good faith" and "willingness to come to an agreement." For in a revolutionary international order, each power will seem to its opponent to lack precisely these qualities. Diplomats can still meet but they cannot persuade, for they have ceased to speak the same language.

—Ibid

The test of a statesman ... is his ability to recognize the real relationship of forces and to make this knowledge serve his ends ... The acid test of a policy, however, is its ability to obtain domestic support.

—Ibid

Events in Czechoslovakia demonstrate the limits of Eastern European autonomy that the Soviet Union is now prepared to tolerate. But the Soviet Union may not be willing indefinitely to use the Red Army primarily against allies as it has done three times in a decade and a half. In any case, no Western policy can guarantee a more favorable evolution in Central Europe; all it can do is to take advantage of an opportunity if it arises.

—Brookings Institution paper, 1968

Almost any statement about Vietnam is likely to be true; unfortunately, truth does not guarantee relevance.

—Foreign Affairs article, 1969

The modern bureaucratic state, for all its panoply of strength, often finds itself shaken to its foundations by seemingly trivial causes. Its brittleness and the worldwide revolution of youth—especially in advanced countries and among the relatively affluent—suggest a

Drawing by David Levine © 1969 The New York Review

spiritual void, an almost metaphysical boredom with a political environment that increasingly emphasizes bureaucratic challenges and is dedicated to no deeper purpose than material comfort.

We fought a military war [in Vietnam]; our opponents fought a political one. We sought physical attrition; our opponents aimed for our psychological exhaustion. In the process, we lost sight of one of the cardinal maxims of guerrilla war: the guerrilla wins if he does not lose; the conventional army loses if it does not win.

The commitment of 500,000 Americans has settled the issue of the importance of Vietnam. For what is involved now is confidence in American promises ... However we got into Vietnam ... ending the war honorably is essential for the peace of the world. Any other solution may unloose forces that would complicate prospects of international order.

—Ibid

I find quite chilling the similarities between the revolutionary romanticism of some of our more radical students today and the young German intellectuals of the 1930s—and I don't mean the Nazi thugs but those idealistic students who were looking for commitment for its own sake. My primary feeling about our students is sadness over the conditions that produced them. They are looking for heroes—not for brothers, but for fathers.

—Conversation, 1969

If it were not for Vietnam, this job would be quite enjoyable.

—Conversation, 1969

December 22, 1969

23

published by both Mr. Nixon and Professor Kissinger within the previous two years. The Administration's decision last month to return Okinawa to Japan in 1972 reflects not only its recognition of legitimate nationalist sentiment but its desire to encourage Tokyo to play a political role commensurate with its power as a renascent economic colossus in the East—and so, again, help Washington reduce its own presence.

Above all else in importance, of course, there is every indication of a solid—if not total—convergence of views on Vietnam between the President and his chief foreign-policy adviser. Both believe that a conventional military victory is no longer possible but that a defeat, either open or disguised, would ultimately have a disastrous political impact at home and drastically alter the international balance of power. Accordingly, their decision was to opt for a “two-track” strategy—first delineated in a Kissinger article published in Foreign Affairs magazine just after his appointment—which provided for an attempted negotiated settlement at the Paris peace talks while simultaneously beginning a gradual, unilateral withdrawal of U.S. troops from the battlefield.

**Poker Hand:** Until now half of that strategy has failed to work, as the President admitted in his news conference last week by bluntly rating current chances of a negotiated settlement as “not good.” And despite Mr. Nixon’s contention that “Vietnamization”—the Administration’s hopeful justification for unilateral U.S. withdrawal—“continues to work,” it is still a very open question whether total reliance on supposed progress by Saigon’s armed forces is a sure road to the successful “conclusion” of the war he promised. “The ‘two-track strategy’ has flopped,” says a former Washington policy analyst and close friend of Kissinger’s. “We’re operating on only one track now. It might work, if the President is able to manipulate public opinion at home and if there is no collapse of will in Saigon. But it might not—and then things could get dramatic.”

For Henry Kissinger, the Presidential adviser most identified in the public mind with the Administration's policy, failure in Vietnam could spell personal disaster and ignominy. Throughout 1969, Kissinger has been the President's most articulate backstage advocate on Vietnam, briefing journalists both collectively and individually, meeting with dovish politicians, Quakers, student leaders and other dissenters. He has also involved himself intimately in behind-the-scenes contacts with the North Vietnamese in an all-out effort to get his two-track strategy on the rails. "Henry is fascinated by playing one more round of poker in the Vietnam game," notes a dovish professor who acted as an informal and ultimately unsuccessful intermediary between Kissinger and Hanoi representatives in Paris last summer. "I got the impression, though, that he was not pri-

marily interested in ending the game as such—but rather in playing it.”

Poker-playing at such stakes, as Kissinger is well aware, is a dangerous intellectual sport. A constant, almost obsessive theme in conversations with friends is his fear of "ending up like Walt," of being rejected and exiled by his academic peers as Rostow was at the end of the Johnson Administration. "Would you be happy at a small university in Arizona?" he is fond of joking to his female acquaintances. But the prospect of becoming a primary Vietnam scapegoat is no laughing matter for Kissinger, who has already had a bitter taste of what may lie in store for him. At commencement exercises last spring at Brown University, two-thirds of the student body pointedly turned around when he was awarded an honorary degree—a

of his mind, his tenacity and seriousness of purpose—it is only those qualities that can retain the President's trust and confidence.

Kissinger's special intellectual virtues have always been more analytic than creative. His mind excels at structuring, organizing and articulating ideas rather than generating them. Balance, judiciousness, thoroughness and order are what he strives for. He is tolerant of honest intellectual mistakes and readily admits to having made several himself in the past (including his early belief in the viability of limited nuclear war), but he does not suffer fools, fanatics or false reasoning gladly. Still, he is sympathetic to earnestness and sincerity of any variety—even among revolutionaries or student radicals. He is less dogmatic than dogged in temperament and, while open to fresh ideas, will seldom abandon old ones without a struggle.

Kissinger enjoys speculation as long as it is grounded in specifics but cannot abide a failure to think a position through to its logical conclusion. At a recent interdepartmental meeting on European affairs in the White House, he listened quietly until a veteran State Department official predicted "there would be very bad consequences" if a proposed course of action were followed. "What will the consequences be?" Kissinger asked. "I don't know," answered the diplomat. "Well," responded Kissinger, "if you don't know what the consequences will be, how do you know they will be bad?" That ended the discussion.

**Teuton:** Such virtues—and their attendant vices of arrogance and limited imagination—are strikingly consistent with Kissinger's origins and are partly explained by his early uprooting. A rather indifferent student in the Bavarian town of Fürth, where his father, Louis Kissinger, was a respected schoolmaster until 1933, Henry became a star pupil when his family finally decided to make the long journey to Manhattan's budding colony of German refugees in Washington Heights (his parents still live there today). After a straight-A record at George Washington High School and a prolonged stretch in the Army, spent mostly in counterintelligence work in Germany, Kissinger entered Harvard. There, his precociousness was quickly recognized. William Y. Elliott, the distinguished professor of government, wrote in a letter recommending the undergraduate Henry Kissinger to Phi Beta Kappa that "[he is] more like a mature colleague than a student ... On the other hand, his mind lacks grace and is Teutonic in its systematic thoroughness."

Elliott, who became Kissinger's mentor throughout his student days at Harvard, was himself a consultant to five U.S. Presidents and probably helped persuade Henry to set his sights higher than professional distinction. That, at any rate, was the course Kissinger pursued when, after being appointed to the Harvard government faculty in the mid-'50s, he became

Harry Naitenayan—Washington Post

## With Miss McGinnis: Secret Swinger?

particularly galling experience for a teacher who prided himself on his rapport with students (and only partially alleviated by a cable that arrived the next day from several former colleagues at Harvard, promising, "We will not turn our backs on Henry Kissinger").

As Assistant for National Security Affairs, Kissinger—like Rostow and Bundy before him—is in an especially vulnerable position on Vietnam. Other key Presidential advisers, notably Secretary of State William Rogers, Attorney General John Mitchell and Defense Secretary Melvin Laird, are cushioned against shock by bureaucratic underpinnings and can take shelter in long-standing personal friendships with Mr. Nixon. But Kissinger enjoys no real power base or refuge in case of defeat. His present lofty position within the Administration rests entirely on the force and sharpness

24 □

Newsweek

intimately associated with two prestigious organizations located in that peculiarly American midway between the academy and the government: the Council on Foreign Relations and the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, Inc. And from these two convenient jumping-off points, it was just a short hop for the Harvard professor to enter government service as an expert on foreign affairs.

**Clash With State:** His first experience as a full-fledged government adviser—in the Kennedy Administration—was not a happy one. In part, a difference of opinion was responsible. Kissinger's ideas on European affairs—his specialty—ran directly contrary to the predominant ideological slant of the “theologians” in the State Department who urged Kennedy to press a multilateral nuclear force on America's European allies. But there was more to Kissinger's failure to achieve real influence on the New Frontier than a clash of ideas. “It was less Henry's

and members of Hubert Humphrey's foreign-policy task force.

Soon after the election, Mr. Nixon met with Kissinger twice and, impressed both by the professor's talk and by his contribution to the Brookings Institution's "Agenda for the Nation," offered him the job Kissinger had hoped to have under Rockefeller. Kissinger accepted, explains a friend, because "his misgivings about Nixon were overcome by the prospect of exerting that much influence."

To the surprise of both men, perhaps, the appointment has proved to be mutually satisfactory. Probably the major reason for the apparent compatibility between the President and Kissinger is that they complement each other intellectually. "Henry performs a function for Nixon that he himself could not do," suggests one close observer. "He takes the President's ideas, structures them, works out the details, and returns them wrapped in a neat package. Henry is the perfect

tial," he wrote in his Brookings essay last year. "Without it stability will prove elusive."

Stability is all-important for Kissinger, whose fundamentally conservative approach to world affairs leaves room for political and social transformations and institutional reform but ranks all such changes as secondary to maintaining a proper balance of forces. "Henry takes a great deal for granted in the existing order," notes one of his oldest acquaintances, "first and foremost that it is worth preserving at all." Another old friend, who worked alongside him for many years at Harvard, defines Kissinger's conservatism more precisely: "Henry's views on social change remind me of Goethe's old dictum that if he had to make a choice between disorder and injustice, he would choose injustice. The same is true of Henry—not because he favors injustice, but because he feels in his bones that there can be no justice without order."

**Old Truths:** Kissinger's conservatism, in reality, amounts to an updated version of nineteenth-century liberal Toryism. And it is thus no secret where Mr. Nixon got the notion—bandied about with great delight by his aides a few months ago—that he is something of a twentieth-century Disraeli. The only trouble is that neither the Chief Executive nor his court philosopher seem open to the suggestion that even the most eloquent, reasonable recasting of the old verities may prove inadequate in an era that has been creating a whole new set of truths.

"Henry's mind works within a restricted area," remarks a friend, "which is both an asset and a limitation." The same might be said of Mr. Nixon, who now speaks with great confidence of the eventual success of his most important foreign policy, backed, he is sure, by the great silent mass of Americans. That is the President's asset and one he has exploited skillfully in recent weeks. But his—and Kissinger's—limitation could lie in their inability to give enough weight to other perceptions: that majorities are not constant, and that an important generational change may yet transform the framework in which U.S. foreign policy is conducted.

Ultimately, the fate of both men depends on how successful their policy is in extricating the U.S. from a war for which neither is in the least responsible. By their estimate, the principal U.S. concern should be to protect its own national power and thus preserve a solid measure of the international power balance in the '70s. But such criteria, however responsible, may not be enough. "Doesn't that man realize that a good part of this country regards the war in Vietnam as 'immoral?'" exclaimed an exasperated visitor to Kissinger's office not long ago. The answer is, he does. But neither Henry Kissinger nor Richard Nixon believes that is the decisive question—and only the future will tell whether they will stand or fall on their judgment.

Henry, at 8, in Fürth and his parents today in New York

Newsweek—Bernard Gotfyd

views than his style that hurt him," recalls a sympathetic colleague who served with him at the time. "He simply wasn't light-footed enough for the Kennedy circle."

Kissinger was more successful later in performing short-term study missions in Vietnam for Lyndon Johnson and was even able to establish a direct contact, through a French friend, between the President and Ho Chi Minh in 1967. But his real hopes for full-time public service seemed to rest on the political fortunes of Nelson Rockefeller, with whom he had remained in close contact since the '50s. During the 1968 campaign, Kissinger served as Rockefeller's chief foreign-policy adviser, and he was bitterly disappointed at Rocky's failure to win the nomination. He received an immediate offer to help write nominee Nixon's speeches but turned it down because, a former associate recalls, "Henry doubted that he could write anything that Nixon would be willing to use." But he did remain in informal contact with both the Nixon camp

man for the job—he has a strong, precise, well-structured mind."

Kissinger also has strong convictions about the proper conduct of foreign affairs that seem remarkably in tune with Mr. Nixon's own instincts and predilections. Basically, he views world problems through the classic prism of power relations. "International order," the highest value in Kissinger's political pantheon and a recurrent phrase in all his writings, can only be achieved through the most delicate balance of major-power relations. This equilibrium among the great powers, he believes, is always dynamic and changing, never permanent: "The foundation of a stable order is the relative security—and therefore the relative insecurity—of its members." And with the onset of the '70s and the slow melting away of the cold-war balance of terror, Kissinger feels, it is imperative that the U.S. and the Soviet Union, the two great superpowers, readjust their relations in conformity with new realities. "A new concept of international order is essen-

December 22, 1969

25

oemretlibem

POBLACION

de Rumanía Nicolas Ceausescu

El estado centradas sobre problemas bilaterales, tales como el comercio.

Estos temas también han ocupado la mayor parte del tiempo que han durado las conversaciones de las personalidades norteamericanas y rumanas que han mantenido conversaciones aparte de las celebradas por los dos Presidentes.

Las conversaciones sobre los principales temas internacionales que figuran en el orden del día, han quedado demoradas, al parecer hasta mañana, que los dos Presidentes volverán a reunirse.

## DISCURSOS EN LA COMIDA EN HONOR DE NIXON

BUCAREST, 2. (Efe). — El Jefe del Estado rumano Nicolas Ceausescu, ha ofrecido esta noche una comida oficial en el Palacio del Consejo Estatal en honor del Presidente norteamericano, Richard Nixon.

En el acto del brindis, el Presidente Nixon pronunció un discurso en el que comenzó alabando la belleza de la geografía de Rumanía, con sus variadas regiones, va-

pacificos con

mundo. "Es notorio —dijo Ceausescu en su brindis en el palacio presidencial de Bucarest— que Rumanía y los Estados Unidos son países con diferentes sistemas y qu sus puntos de vista difieren también sobre el desenvolvimiento político y social del mundo. Sin embargo creemos que la existencia de s temas diferentes no debe impedir el desarrollo de las relaciones de operación entre las naciones".

Aludió Ceausescu al progreso SOCIALISTO-nacional y cultural de Rumanía, destacó que en Rumanía son conocidos los éxitos de los Estados Unidos en economía, ciencia y nica.

El magnífico viaje espacial de cosmonautas americanos —прогуió diciendo Ceausescu—, el primer nizaje y la primera presencia hombres en la Luna, que nos traido fragmentos del satélite, un motivo de júbilo para Rumanía, porque representa una victoria genio humano y del conocimiento del universo.

Refiriéndose especialmente a paz, subrayó el secretario gen-

# Urbanización
Santa Agueda

VILLAS DE BENICASIM (Castellón)

Apartamentos muy originales de 2, y 4 habitaciones, con baño, terrazas orientadas al mar. Zona tranquila e inmejorable situación.

Informes en la misma Urbanización (FACILIDADES).

Casella Postale 3549 - 20100 Milano
Telegr.: Ecostampa - Milano - C.C. Postale 3/2674

INTERNATIONAL PRESS
CITY PRESS

IL GAZZETTINO - VENEZIA

1 0 NOV. 1969

L'ECO DEL
DELLA STA
STAMPA -
MILANO -
L'ECO DEL
DELLA STA
STAMPA -
MILANO -

-959

Le opinioni internazionali

LONDRA :

Tutti gli uomini di Nixon

Il *Sunday Times* pubblica un lungo servizio da Washington intitolato «Alla corte di Re Nixon». Il giornale definisce lo stile politico del Presidente «tranquillo, pragmatico» a trecento giorni dal suo insediamento alla Casa Bianca, e fa una analisi dei suoi tre maggiori consiglieri.

« In termini di politica interna, la figura chiave è John Ehrichman, un avvocato di Seattle sempre agitato, che quando si muove, agita le spalle come un uomo conscio del suo potere. Secondo una decisione presa una decina di giorni fa, egli dovrà presiedere una commissione politica, recentemente creata, con responsabilità simili a quelle del Consiglio Nazionale della Sicurezza per gli Affari Esteri ».

« Gli affari esteri e la Commissione per la Sicurezza Nazionale, invece, sono dominio di Henry Kissinger, tede-sco di nascita, laureato ad Harvard, ed ex-consigliere eletto-rale del Governatore Rockefeller. Oggi è per il Presidente l'oracolo della politica estera ».

« Il Presidente comunque, più ancora che in pre-senza di Kissinger, sembra ancor più a suo agio in compa-gnia del suo Ministro della Giustizia John Mitchell. Quasi certamente parla più spesso per telefono con Mitchell che con qualunque altro membro del suo Governo. Mitchell è per Nixon quello che era Robert Kennedy per il Presidente Kennedy: era suo socio nello studio legale (professione che Nixon esercitò quando si era ritirato a vita privata) e più tardi il capo della sua campagna elettorale. Mitchell non ama essere definito un conservatore. In un discorso si è definito un uomo ragionevole e a mezza strada ».

als ihre Folge ein überstürzter amerikanischer Abzug drohte, hat (so sagen die Optimisten) auch Gegenkräfte mobilisiert. Die Vietnamisierung, die entschlossenere Pazifizierung und die Land-reform sind eine direkte Folge des Schocks der Tet-Offensive und der Drohung des amerikanischen Abzugs, und überzeugte Optimisten erklären schlicht heraus, Südvietnam habe sich einfach gefangen. Mit dem Rücken an der Wand und damit vor der Alternative, entweder zu überleben oder unterzugehen, habe es sich für das Überleben entschlossen. Ob die Lesart zutrifft, wird sich herausstellen; niemand wagt schon jetzt ein abschließendes Urteil, denn alle Proben auf die Exempel stehen noch aus.

Das entscheidende Merkmal der militärischen Lage ist nämlich die auffallende Zurückhaltung der Vietcong und der nordvietnamesischen Verbände (VC/NV). Die für die Öffentlichkeit bestimmte südvietnamesische und amerikanische Lagedarstellung macht daraus einen halben, wenn nicht einen Dreiviertelsieg: der Gegner sei so erschöpft, daß er sich habe zurückziehen müssen, um die ihm noch verbliebenen Verbände vor der völligen Vernichtung zu retten. Wir haben es hier mit der extremsten Form des Optimismus zu tun, ausgedrückt in einer Behauptung eines

## Eine Kommission soll das V

Chicago, im Dezember

Für FBI-Direktor Edgar Hoover stellt die Schwarze-Panther-Bewegung die größte Bedrohung der inneren Sicherheit des Landes dar. In seinem Bericht über die Tätigkeit des FBI im Rechnungsjahr 1968/69 klagte Hoover im Juli 1969 in Washington die Schwarzen Panther an, zahllose Angriffe auf Polizeioffiziere verübt und im ganzen Land in gewalttätige Konfrontationen mit der Polizei verwickelt gewesen zu sein. In der letzten Woche jedoch hat sich die Richtung der Anklage gewendet. Nachdem am 4. Dezember zwei Panther-Mitglieder, unter ihnen der Vorsitzende der Organisation im Staate Illinois, Fred Hampton, in Chicago von der Polizei erschossen worden sind, verstummen die Stimmen derjenigen nicht, die das Ausmaß der Polizeiaktion kritisieren.

Eine Negerorganisation, die sich „Vereinigte Front“ nennt, hat in Chicago für die Nachtstunden ein „Aufenthaltsverbot“ für Weiße in dem von Farbigen bewohnten Stadtviertel angeordnet. Dieses Verbot ist nach einer Mitteilung der „Vereinigten Front“ eine erste Gegenmaßnahme auf die Erschiebung von zwei Black-Panther-Führern durch Chicagoer Polizeibeamte. Die Negerorganisation will ferner für die erschossenen Black-Panther-Führer und für Dr. Martin Luthér King eine Stiftung gründen. „Schwarze Wachen“ sollen in Zukunft jeden Polizeibeamten beobachten, der die Wohngebiete der Farbigen betritt.

Der ehemalige amerikanische Bundesrichter Arthur Goldberg und der Bürgerrechtskämpfer Roy Wilkins haben in New York die Bildung einer Kommission bekanntgegeben, die untersuchen soll, ob eine Verschwörung gegen die radikale Negerorganisation „Black Panthers“ im Gange ist. Goldberg äußerte sich in einer Pressekonferenz zutiefst bestürzt über die Zwischenfälle in Chicago und mehreren anderen Städten der Vereinigten Staaten, bei denen im Laufe der vergangenen zwei Jahre rund 20 Angehörige der Organisation von der Polizei getötet worden sein sollen.

Außerdem richteten 28 Mitglieder des Repräsentantenhauses in Washington einen Brief an Milton Eisenhower, den Vorsitzenden seinerzeit von Präsident Johnson eingesetzten Nationalen Kommission über Ursachen und Verhinderung von Gewalt. In dem Brief sprechen sie von einer großen Kontroverse, die durch das Vorgehen der Polizei ausgelöst worden sei und fordern die Kommission auf, den Vorfall selbst zu untersuchen, da dies weitaus glaubwürdiger sei als Berichte städtischer Behörden in Chicago. Eine Untersuchung durch eine unabhängige Kommission erscheint aus zwei Gründen in diesem Fall besonders wichtig: Einmal widersprechen sich die Aussagen über den Hergang des Gefechtes in jedem Detail. Die Polizei behauptet, sie sei um 4.40 Uhr morgens beim Öffnen der Tür von Gewehrschüssen empfangen worden und habe das Feuer lediglich erwidert. Dagegen erklären die Schwarzen Panther, die Polizei habe das Feuer eröffnet und Hampton in seinem Bett erschossen. Dabei verweisen sie auf Einschüsse neben dem Bett und machen auf das Fehlen von Einschüssen neben der Tür aufmerksam.

Es wird befürchtet, daß der Vorfall die Spannungen zwischen Weiß und Schwarz vergrößert. Diese Annahme gewinnt an Bedeutung angesehenst der Tatsache, daß der Vorfall am 4. Dezember nicht der erste und auch nicht der letzte

en zwei Black-Panther-Mitglieder nach der Polizei- am Boden.
Photo: UPI

INTERNATIONAL PRESS
CUTTIN
argus
Seit 1887

Auflage (i. Ts.): 207,6

- It. „Leitfaden 1969“ -

Ausschnitt aus:

Berliner Morgenpost, Berlin

31. Dez 1969

959

vom

Dean Rusks steiniger Weg

Washington, im Dezember

Lieber Leser!

Dean Rusk, der unter den Präsidenten Kennedy und Johnson acht Jahre lang amerikanischer Außenminister war, wurde jetzt gegen starken Widerstand zum Professor für Völkerrecht an die Staatsuniversität von Georgia berufen. Das Hochschulkuratorium hatte der Berufung mit neun gegen vier Stimmen zugestimmt, obwohl der Gouverneur des Staates, Lester Madox, die Professur Rusks weiterhin bekämpfen will. Dem Ex-Außenminister wird in seinem Heimatstaat Georgia übelgenommen, daß er seiner Tochter erlaubt hatte, einen Farbigen zu heiraten.

„Er hätte bei der Hochzeit nicht auch noch den Brautführer zu spielen brauchen“, meinte Roy Harris, einer der rassestolzen Rusk-Gegner im Hochschulkuratorium.

Der heute 60jährige Rusk ist seit dem Regierungswechsel im Januar praktisch „arbeitslos“ gewesen. Er hat von den engeren Mitarbeitern Johnsons als letzter einen neuen Tätigkeitsbereich gefunden. Daß er fast ein Jahr lang auf eine seinen Fähigkeiten angemessene Stellung warten mußte, ist in mancher Hinsicht symptomatisch für das Schicksal der Mitarbeiter Lyndon B. Johnsons. Viele mußten darunter leiden, daß Johnson bei den Intellektuellen Amerikas zum meistgehabten und verachteten Präsidenten geworden war.

Walt Rostow, der unter Johnson die Rolle spielte, die heute Henry Kissinger unter Präsident Nixon als Berater für Fragen der nationalen Sicherheit innehat, ist ein weiteres Beispiel dafür, daß das Wort „mitgefangen, mitgehangen“ gelegentlich noch seine Gültigkeit hat. Walt Rostow war, ehe er ins Weiße Haus ging, ein hochangesehener Professor am Massachusetts Institute for Technology (MIT), einer der beiden großen technischen Hochschulen des Landes. Als Johnsons Regierungszeit zu Ende ging, war weder das MIT noch eine andere gleichrangige Universität bereit, Walt Rostow eine Professur anzubieten. Heute unterrichtet er an der Staatsuniversität von Texas, einer vergleichsweise drittklassigen Hochschule.

Von Henry Kissinger, der heute für die Vietnam-Politik Nixons soviel Verantwortung trägt wie früher Walt Rostow für die Vietnam-Politik Johnsons, heißt es, er fürchte nur eines: daß ihm die akademische Gemeinde einmal ebenso übel mitspielen könnte wie Rostow. Kissinger war Professor an der Harvard-Universität.

Der „Vietnam-Fluch“ liegt auch auf Dean Rusk. Einige Universitäten, die ihn berufen wollten, wurden durch den Protest der anderen Lehrkräfte daran gehindert. Nachteilig war es für Rusk auch, daß er „gelernter Diplomat“ war. Auch in seiner Position als Vorsitzender der Rockefeller-Stiftung, die er bis zu seiner Berufung ins Außenministerium 1961 innehatte, waren in erster Linie seine diplomatischen Fähigkeiten gefragt. Die Leute in Georgia, die ihm aus ganz anderen Gründen übelwollten, sagten: „Warum sollen wir einen gescheiterten Politiker, der weder was von Recht noch von Völkerrecht versteht, bei uns zum Professor für internationales Recht machen?“

Dean Rusk, der nach Cordell Hull (1933 bis 1944) die längste Amtszeit als US-Außenminister aufzuweisen hat, muß neben den Rassenfanatikern von Georgia auch die Studenten fürchten. Sie haben ihn bereits einige Male mit Steinen beworfen.

Mit herzlichen Grüßen Ihr

Dietrich W. Schulz

## Axel Springer
Versorgung

Die Gesellschaften des Verlagshauses Axel Springer werden am 1. Januar 1970 in eine Aktiengesellschaft eingegliedert. Dies gab der Geschäftsführer der Axel Springer Verlag GmbH heute in Berlin bekannt. Gleichzeitig wurde vom Verleger Axel Springer die Errichtung eines zusätzlichen Altersversorgungswerkes für alle Mitarbeiter verkündet, das zur Zeit einem Bartwert von 80 Millionen D-Mark entspricht. Die Verlautbarung des Verlagshauses Axel Springer hat folgenden Wortlaut:

Das Verlagshaus Axel Springer gibt bekannt: Mit Wirkung zum 1. Januar 1970 wird Herr Axel Springer die gesamten Gesellschaften seiner Unternehmensgruppe, bestehend unter anderem aus den Firmen

Axel Springer & Sohn

Hammerich & Lesser

Ullstein GmbH

Verlag Ullstein GmbH (Buchverlag)

Die Welt Verlags-GmbH

in eine Aktiengesellschaft eingegliedern, die den Namen

Axel Springer Verlag

Aktiengesellschaft

führen wird.

Herr Karl Andreas Voss, der den Firmen Axel Springer & Sohn und Hammerich & Lesser bisher als Kommanditist angehört hat, scheidet zum 31. Dezember 1969 als Gesellschafter aus.

Zum gleichen Stichtag haben die Herren Axel Springer, Karl Andreas Voss und Christian Kracht ihre Ämter als Geschäftsführer der Axel Springer Verlag GmbH niedergelegt.

Den Vorsitz im Aufsichtsrat der neuen Aktiengesellschaft wird deren Alleinaktionär,

Axel Springer, Verleger, Berlin, übernehmen.

Den stellvertretenden Vorsitz werden

Christian Kracht, Verleger, Berlin, Karl Andreas Voss, Verleger, Hamburg

Dr. Heinz Pentzlin, Wirtschaftsdakteur, Hamburg,

Heinz Ullstein, Verleger, Frankfurt/Main.

Peter Tamm, der bisher alleinzeichnungsberechtigter Geschäftsführer der Axel Springer Verlag GmbH war, ist zum alleinigen Vorstandsmitglied der neuen Aktiengesellschaft berufen worden.

Im Zusammenhang mit dieser Änderung der Unternehmensstruktur hat Herr Axel Springer ein umfangreiches Versorgungswerk in Kraft gesetzt, das allen Mitarbeitern über die gesetzliche Sozialversicherung und das Presseversorgungswerk hinaus eine zusätzliche Altersversorgung gewährt.

Das Unternehmen wird zur Sicherung dieser Zusagen jährlich D-Mark 5 bis 6 Millionen zur Verfügung stellen.

Die Summe der vom Unternehmen eingegangenen Verpflichtungen gegenüber seinen Mitarbeitern wird danach einem Barwert von zur Zeit 80 Millionen D-Mark entsprechen.

Mit der Umwandlung in eine Aktiengesellschaft trägt Herr Axel Springer der Tatsache Rechnung, daß die Gesamtheit seiner Unternehmungen eine Größe erreicht hat, die eine breit ausgelegte Verantwortung und eine Transparenz des Firmengeschehens gerechtfertigt erscheinen lassen.

Darüber hinaus soll mit der Zusammenfassung aller zum Springer-Bereich gehörenden Firmen in der Rechtsform einer AG ein Instrument geschaffen werden, das unter Sicherung der unternehmerischen Kontinuität Gewähr für die Bewältigung neuer großer Aufgaben bietet, die insbesondere auf dem Gebiet der audiovisuellen Kommunikationsmittel liegen.

In diesem Zusammenhang will sich die Gesellschaft schon alsbald eine maßgebliche Beteiligung an Produktionsstätten und Ateliersellschaften sichern, die eine umfassende Betätigung des bisher fast ausschließlich im Zeitungs-, Zeitsschriften- und Buchmarkt tätig gewesenen Unternehmens auch auf

1963, a matter
of Nov. 22, 1963,
rifle from the
Ruth Paine in
to the Texas
Depository in
ing that Warren

fornia only becomes important as an "overt act" and thus something through which he can be convicted if the state proves that the trip had some connection with a plan to kill the President.

If Mr. Garrison and his staff face problems in proving their case, the defense also faces a problem of no less magnitude. It feels that it must establish that a conspiracy involving Mr. Shaw did not exist. "And it is awfully hard sometimes to prove a negative," said one of Mr. Shaw's attorneys.

Mr. Shaw's name first cropped up in the conspiracy investigation in late February, 1967, after Mr. Ferrie was found dead in his apartment. New Orleans attorney, Dean A. Andrews Jr., had testified before the Warren Commission in 1964 that the day after President Kennedy was killed, a Clay Bertrand, whom Andrews knew as a protector of young homosexuals—and who Mr. Garrison says is really Clay

Shaw—had called him and asked him to go to Dallas to defend Oswald. Andrews said that he had seen Oswald in the summer of 1963 in the company of several "gay kids" in New Orleans.

Andrews later was convicted of perjury for making conflicting statements as to whether he knew Bertrand's real name and whether he recognized Mr. Shaw as Bertrand.

How—and whether—Mr. Garrison can pull all these lines together and prove that a conspiracy to murder John Kennedy really did take place in New Orleans, and that Clay Shaw was one of the participants, may begin to emerge in the next few days when the jury is complete and the taking of testimony begins.

United Press International

ON TRIAL: New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison says that millionaire-businessman Clay Shaw conspired to murder John F. Kennedy with Lee Harvey Oswald and others in 1963. Last week, Mr. Shaw, above, went to court to hear Mr. Garrison present the case against him.

nole?

twice before
expenditures."
lesson of the
the $50-billion
expenditures was
that the cost
bated when special
go into the law—
continuing cost
ewed periodically.
penditures are re-
ly by Cong-

HENRY A. KISSINGER

State Sec. Rogers
Already Has Woes

By STEWART HENSLEY

WASHINGTON (UPI) — State Sec. William P. Rogers already has a morale problem in his department. Many State Dept. career officers are concerned with what they see as the growing possibility that the Secretary's traditional function as chief adviser and executive officer for the President in the field of foreign policy is being usurped by Harvard Prof. Henry A. Kissinger.

The reason for this concern—whether it is justified or not—is obvious.

STAFF OF 20

Kissinger, selected by President Richard M. Nixon as his special assistant for national security affairs, already has put together a staff of more than 20 bright young experts on international affairs and laid two or three policy recommendations on Nixon's desk.

Rogers, meanwhile, is still struggling with the problem of filling key posts which are vacant or about to be vacant and pulling together the administration of the department, which is traditionally regarded as a "can of worms" so far as organizing it is concerned.

The fact that Kissinger, in putting together what is regarded in foggy bottom as "a little State Dept." within the White House, has tapped some of the State Dept's, own outstanding specialists for his operation makes the pill even more bitter.

Nixon eventually will determine the relative importance of Rogers and Kissinger in the policy planning sphere. But State Dept. officers are afraid that the brilliant Harvard professor, who has pushed his way to the front so rapidly, may get such a head start that Rogers will never catch up. This in turn would dillute the influence which the career specialists in the department are able to exert.

Nixon, in announcing Kissinger's selection in December, said the professor would be involved in "long range planning." The President gave the impression he would not be involved in operational matters.

Kissinger, who bruised a number

of academic feelings at Harvard during his meteoric rise there, has given conflicting public versions of what he believes to be his role.

CONFLICTING VERSIONS

He told a Washington newspaper reporter he was certain "No planner will ever be taken seriously if he does not have some control over operations."

Others have quoted him as saying, however, that he planned to "stay out of the cable room" at the White House and not interfere in current operational matters.

The fact that his predecessors, McGeorge Bundy and Walt. W. Rostow, took a similar vow but soon were deep in daily policy decisions, causes State Dept. officials to view Kissinger's pledge with considerable skepticism.

Nixon Seen Slowly Modifying Johnson

(AP)—President Richard M. Nixon's Administration has made “clarifications” to Arab governments modifying former President Johnson's reply to the Soviet peace initiative on the Middle East, the semi-official newspaper Al Ahram reported Monday.

The paper said Nixon's position is that Johnson's reply of Jan. 15, which the Arabs claimed was “pro-Israeli,”

“should not be viewed as a detailed statement of America's policy.”

Al Ahram said this was conveyed to Arab ambassadors and representatives in Washington and also to the Egyptian government.

Al Ahram reported earlier this month the Soviet Union had proposed that the major powers pressure Israel to give up territories it occupied in the June,

1967, war in return for an Arab declaration ending their state belligerency. Al Ahram said Johnson instead advocated peacemaking effort to encourage direct Arab-Israeli talks.

The Soviet Union has since thrown its support behind France's proposal for a Middle East Four meeting at the United Nations to push for an Arab Israeli settlement. In New York,

Downtown Boston store open Mon. and Wed
Peabody, Braintree, Cambridge, Revere, Framingham, Brockton, and Burling
Lynn open Mon. and Fri. eves. 'til

Downto
Lynn
“Market

Kennedy

BY STEWART ALSOP

THE POWERFUL DR. KISSINGER

WASHINGTON—Power is, of course, what Washington is all about, and one of Washington's great power centers—perhaps second only to the President's Oval Office—is a small, neatly furnished room in the basement of the White House. This is the lair of Dr. Henry Kissinger, the President's “Assistant for National Security Affairs.”

Dr. Kissinger is a rather owlish-looking man of 46, who retains a soft German accent (rather surprisingly, since he escaped Hitler's Germany 31 years ago). His manner is relaxed to the point of placidity, but his large gray eyes, magnified behind glasses, suggest the extraordinary drive and intelligence that have propelled him to the precise center of the whole policymaking process of the American Government.

Kissinger modestly insists that his role is simply to make sure that the President knows the various options open to him, whenever he has to make a major foreign- or defense-policy decision. Virtually every paper that reaches the President through the elaborate system over which Kissinger presides presents two or more such options.

Until recently, a paper might list six or more options, but the President has told Kissinger to eliminate unrealistic proposals. "In a Vietnam paper, for example," Kissinger says, "such an essentially silly option as loading the troops on ships and sailing away would not be included."

Kissinger has adopted what he calls a “Socratic” method to “define the options” for the President. He spends much of his fifteen-hour day prodding the massive Federal bureaucracy with questions, about Vietnam, or the Middle East, or weapons systems, or any major issue. One result of this question-asking technique, Kissinger believes, is to give the bureaucracy an interest in carrying out a Presidential decision.

BASIC FACT

"I used to think that a President just had to make a decision and issue orders," he says, "but it isn't as simple as that. You have to find ways to make the bureaucracy want to do what the President wants to do."

As this suggests, Kissinger has grasped the basic fact about power in Washington—a fact that many officials, arriving

with Mitty-ish dreams of making high policy, never grasp. This is that the road to power in Washington lies in the manipulation and mastery of the bureaucracy.

"If one wishes to influence American foreign policy," Kissinger shrewdly observed before coming to the White House, "the time to do so is in the formative period, and the level is the middle level of the bureaucracy ... the highest level in which people can still think."

He has followed his own precept. The question-asking process begins at the middle level, with the "planning staff," which drafts the papers that make their way up the bureaucratic ladder to the august National Security Council. The membership of this group changes constantly, since it is determined by the issue being considered. But Henry Kissinger—or a top member of his 30-man staff—is a permanent fixture.

It is Kissinger who decides, moreover, what questions are to be asked, except on the rare occasions when the President himself, or Secretary of State William Rogers, or another official, suggests an issue for consideration. It is Kissinger who chairs the "review board," at the next higher bureaucratic level, which prepares the final NSC papers.

PROS AND CONS

It is Kissinger who prepares the summaries of these papers (which sometimes run to a hundred pages or so), and it is Kissinger who briefs the President on them. It is Kissinger who leads off the NSC meetings, by summarizing (brilliantly and fairly, according to those who have seen him in action) the pros and cons of each proposed course of action.

Kissinger also sits as a member of the "Under Secretary's Committee," which handles major problems below the NSC level. Finally, Kissinger, often at the President's behest, spends an average of an hour and a half with the President every day, and is constantly on the telephone to him. In short, Henry Kissinger—unlike Secretary Rogers or any other high official—is deeply involved in the whole process of making foreign policy, from start to finish.

Kissinger is a man of strong views

which he does not hesitate to express. It is thus not at all surprising that basement office is one of Washington's major power centers. What is surprising is that the powerful doctor seems so to have made so few mortal enemies: the State Department or other sector of the bureaucracy.

But the center of power is a dangerous place. Whether Henry Kissinger will survive there will largely depend on how well the system of policymaking which he controls works. And on the score the chief test will surely be outcome of the war in Vietnam.

EIGHTEEN MONTHS

The Nixon Administration's Vietnam policy is very much Henry Kissinger's Vietnam policy, as outlined in an article in the January "Foreign Affairs." The article was written long before he went to the White House, but it might have been written yesterday. In the article, Kissinger warned that nothing less than "confidence in American promises throughout the world was at stake in honorable Vietnam settlement. But some senses that he is less confident than once was of such a settlement.

"If only we had eighteen months," says musingly. "If only this were not 1969 ... It's awfully hard to棋棋看with twenty kibitzers at your bow, all of them demanding explanations of the purpose of every move while your opponent listens."

One further senses that Kissinger has begun to suspect that Vietnam is likely the pitch that defiles—a problem that destroys those who become involved it. Recently, when he was given honorary degree at Brown University, two-thirds of the student body turned their backs on him, as a "symbol" of "senseless and immoral war."

This bothered him much less than the valedictory, in which the youthful valedictorian compared the United States to Nazi Germany, while faculty and parents listened complacently. At this point, the powerful man who as boy had been a Jewish refugee from Hitler began to wonder whether the United States, plagued by such mindless irrationality, could ever achieve a honorable settlement of the war. He even began to wonder about the survival of the American political system.

103

Newsweek, June 16, 1969

# To Gain Influence Under Kissinger

A MIDDLE-LEVEL State Department officer, asked when Secretary of State William P. Rogers would see a confidential report he was drafting on Southeast Asia, said he did not have the faintest idea.

"It's not Rogers I'm worried about," he said, "it's Henry Kissinger."

This otherwise small incident tells much about the silent revolution now taking place in the vastly important formulation and carrying out of foreign policy inside the Nixon Administration.

The fact is that for the first time in at least 25 years, since the latter part of the Roosevelt Administration, the Secretary of State now takes a secondary role behind the President's national security chief. Although intimates of both Rogers and Kissinger fall all over themselves to deny this, it nevertheless has been an obvious fact since Jan. 20. It became even more so by Mr. Nixon's choice of Kissinger, not Rogers, to be at his side in his crucial summit chat with South Vietnamese President Nguyen Van Thieu at Midway Island ten days ago.

One little-noticed jurisdictional change ordered by President Nixon soon after he took office tells much about the expansion of

Evans

Novak

power within Kissinger's White House office.

Cutting through the turbid language of the bureaucracy, this change in effect ordered all action or policy proposals developed within the State Department to go to Kissinger's office in the White House with or without specific clearance by Rogers or Under Secretary Elliot Richardson. Previously, only recommendations carrying the Secretary or Under Secretary's okay found their way to the White House. This directive was part of Mr. Nixon's move to rebuild the policy-making power of the National Security Council, in disuse the past eight years.

LIKEWISE, Kissinger's influence, as a direct result of Mr. Nixon's wishes and Kissinger's own unique expertise in the mysterious ways of the bureaucracy, has also been extended over Secretary Melvin R. Laird's Defense Department. But his sway is far more apparent over State's traditional role as maker of foreign policy than over the Pentagon's defense role.

The decline of the State Department today results from more mundane causes than presidential directives. Kissinger is one of this country's few recognized expect of foreign policy, from perts in virtually every aspect the significance of nuclear weapons to the war in Vietnam. But Rogers took over as Secretary of State with no experience whatsoever.

Thus Kissinger, operating at Mr. Nixon's very elbow, has been dispensing advice from the first day Mr. Nixon

entered the White House while Rogers has been going through a grueling learning process. Furthermore, the President's Inauguration Day order to Rogers for a top-to-bottom review of all U.S. policies abroad, from arms control to Swaziland, has all but immobilized the State Department.

Beyond that, Rogers has not yet filled the all-important post of head of the State Department Secretariat, a post that in the past has acted as the Secretary of State's indispensable eyes and ears within the Department. Rogers is expected to fill this job soon, with strong indications it will go to Theodore Eliot, a Foreign Service officer now in charge of Iranian affairs.

That is not the only high, unfilled job in the Department. Another is the chief of the Department's policy-planning staff, vacant since January.

ROGERS is now considering a radical change in the operation of the policy-planning staff. In effect, this change would abolish its traditional function of providing long-range policy advice to the Secretary and make it a back-up staff for the Department's seventh floor, where top officials have their offices.

This projected change tells much about the growth of power in the office of Henry Kissinger. What is now being worked out by Rogers and Richardson is to use the planning staff as a major new source of day-to-day working papers for study by the National Security Council, whose boss (under the President) is Kissinger himself.

The effect of this will be further enhancement of Kissinger and his staff of some 30 top-grade experts—twice the size of the staff under his two predecessors, McGeorge Bundy and Walt Rostow—and a deepening of the silent revolution.

© 1969, Publishers-Hall Syndicate

PIXies® by Wohl

Super Constellation—roared down a runway at an American airbase in Atsugi, Japan, and headed northwest for Korea. The pilot of the plane, Lt. Comdr. James Howard Overstreet, 34, kept his four propeller-driven engines at full throttle to lift the plane’s heavy load of supersecret listening devices. And as they approached Chongjin, a North Korean city near the Manchurian border, Overstreet and his crew of 29 Navy men and one U.S. marine (who was fluent in both Korean and Russian) made final preparations to carry out their dual intelligence mission: monitoring enemy radio communications and detecting enemy radar activity (page 30).

**Abort:** Hundreds of miles away on an island off the coast of Japan, a U.S. Air Force tracking station followed the blip of Overstreet's plane on its radar. Suddenly, two new blips appeared on the radar screen. A pair of supersonic North Korean MIG's were closing in fast on the EC-121. Within seconds the Air Force had flashed Overstreet a pre-arranged cryptographic message urgently ordering him to abort his mission. Slowly, Overstreet wheeled his lumbering 300-mph Connie into a turn and began to head back for base. But it was too late. The MIG's were on his tail—and, in a blinding flash, Overstreet, his crew and his plane were blasted out of the sky.

Inexplicably, it took the U.S. Air Force in Japan more than an hour to report the incident to the National Military Command Center in the Pentagon by then, it was around 1 a.m. in Washington and a duty officer at the Pentagon phoned Henry A. Kissinger, the President's special assistant on national security affairs. Driving through the early morning darkness, Kissinger arrived at his basement office in the west wing of the White House and immediately began assembling an ad hoc “working group” to assess all the available information and draw up a list of options for the President. Finally, sometime after 3 a.m., Kissinger picked up the telephone and informed Mr. Nixon that he faced a grave crisis. And having done so, Kissinger made his initial

recommendation to the President: "No immediate action is required."

By dawn, various agencies of the government had begun to swing into action. Reports came in from Japan that a U.S. Navy patrol plane had spotted debris from the EC-121 in an area about 100 miles southeast of Chongjin. "Our first concern was for survivors," said one Pentagon official. "We wanted to make every possible effort to get planes and ships over there to pick up our people before the North Koreans did. The water temperature in that area of the Sea of Japan was about 40 degrees—which meant that if the crew of the plane wore survival clothing, they had a chance to live for an hour. And if they had a life raft, they could last even longer."

**Prompt:** The closest ships to the rescue area, it turned out, were two Russian destroyers out of Vladivostok. In Washington, Secretary of State William Rogers approached Soviet Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin and requested his government's assistance in the rescue operation. And in Moscow, U.S. Chargé d'Affaires Emory C. Swank provided the Soviet Foreign Ministry with the map coordinates of the spot where the plane was thought to have gone down. Within hours, the Soviet vessels were on-scene and, aided by radioed guidance from hovering U.S. planes, began fishing wreckage out of the sea. The promptness of the Russian response both pleased and puzzled some observers. "Let's face it," said one high-ranking U.S. State Department official, "the Soviets saw a good opportunity to do a favor for Nixon in hope of getting something in return. They obviously wanted to soften any possible U.S. retaliation against North Korea. And because of their help, they perhaps expect that we won't make much of a fuss over their purge in Czechoslovakia."

Whatever the Soviet motive, the assistance of the Russian destroyers helped to establish early on two vital facts: that the EC-121 had clearly been shot down while flying over international waters and that, almost certainly, none of its crew had survived. (Later in the week, the

destroyer U.S.S. Tucker recovered the bodies of two of the EC-121 crew: Lt. (j.g.) Joseph R. Ribar of Abridge, Pa., and Aviation Electronics Technician 1/c Richard E. Sweeney of Chicago. But otherwise a rapidly assembled U.S. search armada found nothing but floating debris.)

Even as the search continued, North Korea crowed over its latest humiliation of the U.S. In an English-language broadcast, Radio Pyongyang asserted that the ill-fated EC-121 had intruded "deep into the territorial air" of North Korea and that a Communist air force unit had "scored the brilliant battle success of shooting it down with a single shot." To refute the charge that the U.S. had violated North Korea's 12-mile territorial limit—and, just as important, to head off domestic demands for retaliatory measures—the President met with Republican Congressional leaders and gave them a full briefing. Though Mr. Nixon sought to enlist the congressmen in his campaign to keep tight wraps around the details of the incident, he was partly defeated in this effort by a curious twist of fate. For just before he launched into his plea for tight-lipped security, Senate Minority Leader Everett McKinley Dirksen stepped out of the Cabinet room to go to the men's room. As a result, Dirksen was not present when Mr. Nixon made his request.

**'Proof':** Thus it was Dirksen—and not the Nixon Administration—who first publicly divulged the details of how the spy plane had been lost. Sitting cross-legged on a table in the Senate Press Gallery, Dirksen apprised reporters of the Administration's claim that at no time during its mission did the EC-121 stray anywhere inside North Korean territorial airspace. Then, stepping before a battery of television cameras, he proceeded to answer questions. Would the Administration have the public's support if it took military action against North Korea? he was asked. "This bloody tussle in Vietnam has been going on a long time," Dirksen replied in his most mellifluous voice. "The country gets weary. I don't

At Panmunjom, U.S. General Knapp (above) condemns downing of U.S. intelligence plane by North Korea; then, prodded by Reds to identify plane's unit, he stalks out of Military Armistice Commission meeting

Associated Press

Newsweek

28

UPI

Cooperative effort: While Soviet motor launch heads away from mother ship, U.S. crewmen search for debris

Associated Press

think they're prepared for any more
bloodletting."

At first, the White House was furious
with Dirksen for leaking the story. But it
soon became apparent that the President
and his advisers had somewhat mis-
gauged the temper of the Congress and
the country. For instead of indulging in
the jingoistic outcry that the Administra-
tion had feared, most Americans, like
Dirksen, rejected the military approach.
Indeed, so widespread was this senti-
ment that even a superhawk like Colo-
rado's Sen. Peter Dominick, when asked
by a Washington newsman whether he
thought the Communists "should be per-
mitted to get away with this," shrugged
and replied: "Well, I don't see that
we've got much choice."

Inevitably, there were those who dis-
sented and who wanted to see the U.S.
teach the North Koreans a lesson. That,
indeed, was the view of Comdr. Lloyd
M. Bucher, the skipper of the Pueblo.
"The North Koreans have a small sub-
marine force," Bucher remarked last
week. "Suppose they sent a couple of
subs into San Diego harbor and attacked
two of our carriers. I wonder what we
would do about that? I mean, I wonder
just how far we are going to permit them
to go without doing something about it?"

**Protest:** But although, early in the cri-
sis, the President ordered U.S. forces in
the Pacific to be ready for action if nec-
essary, his own evident intention was to
avoid not only military force but even
excessive diplomatic activity. Indeed,
the first direct U.S. protest at the shoot-
ing down of the spy plane was not made
until late in the week when the North
Koreans called for a meeting of the Ko-
rean Armistice Commission at Panmun-
jom. There, in the familiar blue-painted
Quonset hut where the U.S. and North
Korea had held 289 previous meetings,
U.S. Air Force Maj. Gen. James B. Knapp
accused the North Koreans of a "calcu-
lated act of aggression." (When the

Communist delegate demanded to know
to what unit the downed American spy
plane belonged, Knapp abruptly walked
out of the meeting.) Apart from this, the
only U.S. diplomatic move was to circu-
late copies of Knapp's statement among
members of the U.N. Security Council.
No formal protest was made to the Coun-
cil, however, since that would almost
certainly have met with a Soviet veto.

There were, of course, good reasons
for Mr. Nixon's decision to refrain from
using force. For in every case, his mili-
tary options—such as a blockade of
North Korea or a limited air strike against
a MIG air base—involved enormous risks.
As the President himself pointed out
last week in his press conference, a U.S.
retaliatory blow against North Korea
would, at the very least, court the ex-
treme displeasure of the Soviet Union—
and perhaps dash the chances for reach-
ing an accommodation with Moscow on a
Vietnamese peace settlement and other
important world issues.

**War:** Even more important, Mr. Nixon
had to consider that any retaliatory blow
against North Korea could conceivably
spark another land war in Asia. Nor was
this as remote a possibility as it might
first appear. For far from being a fourth-
rate power, Communist North Korea is
considered by most U.S. military experts
to be the most truculent and—in the short
run—the most dangerous adversary the
U.S. faces in Asia. Located on the stra-
tegic rim of both Communist China and
the Soviet Union, North Korea could, in
a crunch, draw on the resources of these
two Communist giants. And while North
Korea has a smaller army than South
Korea (350,000 men vs. 530,000), Pyong-
yang boasts a 3-to-1 advantage over
Seoul in jet fighters and has a highly
trained militia force of 1.3 million men
and women. "If they wanted to take the
heavy casualties," says one U.S. expert,
"the North Koreans could break through
the Demilitarized Zone and invade the

South. And the Pyongyang leadership is
considered just cold-blooded enough to
try it."

Whether, in fact, Pyongyang is pre-
paring for such an attack is a matter of
intense speculation in the U.S. intelli-
gence community. What is clear, how-
ever, is that North Korea's tough, wily
Premier Kim Il Sung, faced with mount-
ing economic and political difficulties at
home, has mobilized his entire nation of
13 million people for what he vows will
be a final armed showdown with South
Korea. After his most recent visit to
North Korea, Wilfred Burchett, the Aus-
tralian Communist journalist, reported:
"Every village through which I passed
... has merry-go-round-type gadgets
around which models of U.S. planes and
helicopters soar and dive and release
parachutists while local militia adjust
sights for counterfire. Inside villages and
along roads, signs are all devoted to
warnings that a new crisis is at hand,
that war may come at any moment."

In a sense, the war has already begun.
Over the past two years, Kim Il Sung has
stepped up his military pressure against
the south, regularly infiltrating hundreds
of guerrillas across the DMZ. In one case
last year, a group of Communist comman-
dos, with instructions to assassinate South
Korean President Park Chung Hee, came
within 800 yards of Park's palace in Seoul
before they were discovered.

**Pullout:** But as Kim Il Sung is aware,
North Korea has no chance of "liberat-
ing" the south as long as 55,000 American
troops remain there. Thus, in the view of
U.S. experts, the seizure of the U.S.S.
Pueblo as well as last week's MIG attack
on the EC-121 (an attack that, probably
not coincidentally, took place on Kim's
57th birthday) were obvious attempts by
North Korea to fan isolationist sentiment
in the U.S. and to undermine the faith of
the South Koreans in Washington's will to
fight. Says a U.S. diplomat in Japan: "I
would say that, with all this talk of U.S.

April 28, 1969

29

NATIONAL AFFAIRS

troop withdrawals from Vietnam, the North Koreans are anxious to humiliate us, to get the American people believing that we ought to pull out from all these dangerous activities in exposed forward positions."

If this was, in fact, the long-range goal of North Korea's leaders, their decision last week to attack an American spy plane seemed to have backfired. For as President Nixon made clear at his press conference, the U.S. intelligence missions along the North Korean coast will not only be continued, but from now on the planes will be provided with armed escorts. In order to provide this kind of protection, Mr. Nixon last week ordered the Navy to begin assembling in the Sea of Japan a massive task force, including the nuclear carrier Enterprise and the carriers Ticonderoga and Ranger as well as a number of destroyers, cruisers and supply ships. In addition, the battleship New Jersey, which had been steaming for port in the U.S. after six months' duty off the coast of Vietnam, was ordered to turn back and join the Seventh Fleet near Korea.

From the decks of the carriers—and, perhaps, from air bases in South Korea as well—U.S. jet fighters will fly cover for the intelligence flights. But while this measure may deter future North Korean attacks on U.S. spy planes, it is not without its serious drawbacks. For one thing, Pentagon officials concede that the presence of the additional planes will "grade" the productivity of the intelligence missions by prompting the North Koreans to switch off some of their more sophisticated radar equipment and to clamp restrictions on their radio traffic. Even more important, the large-scale operation in the Sea of Japan will be staggeringly expensive. "The North Korean attack actually has made these missions too costly to be worthwhile," one Pentagon official said last week. "Certainly, the missions will have to be re-evaluated on the basis of cost effectiveness. I don't see how we can justify keeping an aircraft carrier and supporting ships worth well over half a billion dollars to provide protection."

**Limited Use:** All of which raised the question of whether the spy game was worth the candle. Characteristically, Sen. J. William Fulbright last week proclaimed: "I can't conceive of any information these planes pick up that warrants the kind of risk they are taking." And others wondered why the U.S. could not replace the vulnerable EC-121s with spy-in-the-sky satellites. Military experts, however, argue that the satellites, which pass overhead quickly and do not tune in on certain radar frequencies, had a limited usefulness. And they pointed out that as long as the regime of Kim Il Sung openly continued to threaten war, it was vital for the U.S. to collect intelligence on the disposition of North Korean military units and their state of readiness.

Somewhat surprisingly, given the highly fallible judgment displayed by

the Pentagon in the Pueblo and EC-121 affairs, most Americans appeared to accept the arguments of the military on this matter. There was, in fact, a notable lack of criticism in Congress against President Nixon's decision to continue the intelligence flights—even though his parallel decision to provide them with armed escorts inevitably increased the risks of conflict between the U.S. and North Korea. Indeed, judging from the mild statements made by spokesmen of both the left and the right, Americans generally seemed to have acquired a new sophistication about the fact that great powers must indulge in clandestine activities— and that those activities are inherently dangerous.

But if Americans seemed more willing than in the past to bear certain kinds of unpleasant responsibilities, they also

clearly felt that there were limits on what they and their country could be called upon to do. And in this, Richard Nixon seemed to concur. More than any of his recent predecessors, Mr. Nixon has an acute awareness of the limitations of Presidential power and a determination to act within those limits. This is not to say that he is comfortable with his self-imposed shackles. But his action—or, more accurately, lack of action—in the face of his first foreign crisis indicated that he has set himself a course of restraint and caution in dealing with external challenges that does not directly threaten the vital interests of the U.S.

In large part, of course, Mr. Nixon is inhibited by the realities of the Vietnamese war. The notion of engaging in other foreign military ventures while half a million U.S. troops are tied down in Vietnam is, to the President's way of thinking, almost unimaginable. But beyond the Vietnam straitjacket, there is yet another major inhibiting factor on Mr. Nixon's freedom of action—the growing equalization of Soviet and U.S. nuclear power. "I would remind the members of this press corps," the President told his news conference last week, "that at [the time of the Cuban missile crisis] all the professional experts agreed that the U.S. superiority was at least 4 to 1 and maybe 5 to 1 over the Soviet Union in terms of over-all nuclear capability. Now, we don't have that today. That gap has been closed. We shall never have it again."

**'Bipolarity':** In a sense, Mr. Nixon's performance last week seemed to be a direct application of a theory put forth by his chief foreign policy adviser, Henry Kissinger. In a recent essay, Kissinger argued that "military bipolarity" has made it increasingly difficult for either Washington or Moscow to deal with smaller powers. "The paradox of contemporary military strength," wrote Kissinger, "is that a gargantuan increase in power has eroded its relationship to policy. The major nuclear powers are capable of devastating each other. But they have great difficulty translating this capability into policy except to prevent direct challenges to their own survival—and this condition is interpreted with increasing strictness. In other words, power no longer translates automatically into influence."

Judging by his behavior last week, it seemed clear that President Nixon is in large—if possibly reluctant—agreement with this view. This, of course, is a far cry from Mr. Nixon's activist campaign oratory and even further from his cold-warrior stance of the 1950s. Yet his new position is in tune with the contemporary mood of the U.S. For Richard Nixon inherited a country in no way prepared for new, large-scale foreign engagements and he is adjusting his style accordingly. As President, he has proved himself to be cautious, cool and capable of swallowing his pride even when it hurts—as it undoubtedly did last week.

## THE GUARDIANS

U.S. Air Force

U.S. F-105 jets: Providing cover

U.S.S. Dale: Sea search

U.S.S. New Jersey: Back on duty

U.S.S. Ranger: Standing by

UPI

April 28, 1969

31

CBS News

Aboard an EC-121: Plotting the enemy's position

THE VARIETIES OF ELINT

"There was no uncertainty whatever as to where this plane was," President Richard M. Nixon said last week of the downed U.S. EC-121 intelligence aircraft. "We knew this, based on our radar... We know what [North Korean] radar showed. We, incidentally, know what the Russian radar showed. All three radars showed exactly the same thing."

Even to the layman, it came as no surprise to learn that U.S. radar sites in Japan and South Korea had plotted accurately the position of the big EC-121 until it was shot down by North Korean MIG jet fighters, some 70 miles off the North Korean coast. But how did Mr. Nixon know what the Russian and Korean radars revealed?

Pentagon officials declined to elaborate on the President's statement. But to electronic experts the answer seemed clear: U.S. "listening-post" stations in South Korea and Japan-equipped with extremely sensitive radio receivers-must have intercepted communications between North Korean radar operators and the pilots of the North Korean MIG's and between Russian bases and the two Soviet destroyers prowling in the Sea of Japan. These communications may have been sent via conventional radio or by coded electronic signals in the so-called "data link" technique. Even if the signals were in code-which they probably were -the U.S. not only detected them, but deciphered them. And deciphered, the messages probably revealed the precise navigational coordinates given the North Korean MIG's to bring them up behind the slow, propeller-driven EC-121.

Remarkable as it sounds, this kind of

feat is now taken for granted by the military. The technology of electronic intelligence (known in military jargon as "elint") has grown so incredibly sophisticated in recent years that it is not much of an exaggeration to state that a foreign power can scarcely throw a switch without a U.S. spy satellite, ship or aircraft taking note of it. U.S. fighter-bombers in Vietnam, for example, carry electronic alarms of such acute sensitivity that they register when the North Vietnamese simply turn on a radar to warm it up-even before the transmitter begins spewing out its pulses of electrical energy.

'Grass': In recent years, the U.S. has placed ground-based elint stations around the Asian mainland, from northern Japan down around to Thailand, to eavesdrop on the Chinese, North Koreans, North Vietnamese and Russians. These carefully guarded sites normally contain forints of telephone poles topped by a spider's web of wires. These are "antenna fields" and they serve the same purpose as a television antenna: they pull in weak electronic signals from distant sources. But they do so with incredible efficiency; U.S. experts say that these antenna fields can pull the faintest signals out of the "grass"-engineering jargon for the static always heard in radio transmissions.

But there are limits to what such ground stations-and the military reconnaissance satellites as well-can detect. And to fill in these gaps, the U.S. uses a variety of aircraft and surface vessels-such as the EC-121 and the Pueblo. Beating up and down the coasts of Asia, these aircraft and ships turn their anten-

nas endlessly on Communist installations. The information the spy craft gather is extremely varied: sometimes they pick up the vector commands issued by a command post to jet fighters in flight or the routine radio traffic between a headquarters and troops in the field; on other occasions they produce data revealing the electronic characteristics of an air-defense system or the operational capabilities of landing systems at military airfields.

**Sentry:** For the EC-121, producing such intelligence is a relatively new function. A modified version of the civilian Super-Constellation, the EC-121 was first developed as a radar-picket aircraft for the defense of the continental U.S. During the 1950s, the big airplanes ranged far out over the Atlantic and Pacific, sweeping their radar through the skies in search of approaching Russian bombers. But with the advent of long-range radars, the EC-121 was no longer needed as an airborne sentry, and so it was modified again to fit its present role as a spy plane. (In Vietnam, however, the plane has been used in other roles as well. Some EC-121s have been used to transport South Vietnamese officers who issue bogus marching orders, over intercepted radio wavelengths, to Viet Cong and North Vietnamese troops.)

Physically, the EC-121 is not a particularly handsome craft. Two huge radomes protrude like goiters from the top and bottom of the original graceful Constellation fuselage and the plane's wing-tips carry extra gasoline tanks which permit it to stay aloft for more than twenty hours at a time. Inside, the EC-121 is crammed with about 6 tons of modern elint equipment-radar scopes and control consoles, dozens of receivers to sweep across all radio channels, computers, tape recorders and data-processing machines, and several independent navigational systems. In a separate section are bunks, a galley and a latrine. Normally, an EC-121 is aloft long enough so that a second crew of pilots, navigators and elint technicians is needed to relieve the first shift.

**Vital:** During the course of a twenty-hour flight, an EC-121 will gather an enormous quantity of information. Some of the technicians aboard are fluent in Chinese, Korean and Russian so that they can instantly translate any intercepted radio conversations. Almost all of the information picked up during a flight, however, is ultimately returned to Fort Meade, Md., where it is analyzed by the 20,000-odd employees of the National Security Agency. And esoteric as it may seem, the kind of data produced by the EC-121 is considered by the Pentagon to be vital to the security of the U.S. For in wartime, such intelligence can mean the difference between victory and defeat-as, in fact, it often did in the campaigns the U.S. waged in the Pacific during World War II.

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Newsweek