Known And Unknown_ A Memoir Part 1

Known and Unknown.

by Donald Rumsfeld.

Author's Note

An internet search of "known unknown" in the autumn of 2010 resulted in more than three hundred thousand entries, a quarter million of which were linked to my name. There is an entry on Wikipedia. The reference has been turned into "poetry." That poetry has been set to music. And that was just on the first page of the search results.

Yet for a phrase seemingly so well known, there is some irony in the fact that its origins and meaning remain largely unknown.

The phrase first became publicly linked to me in early 2002. Toward the end of one of my Pentagon press briefings, a journalist told me that "reports" were suggesting the absence of a link between Saddam Hussein's regime and terrorists seeking weapons of ma.s.s destruction. These unidentified reports, the questioner suggested, were evidence of a lack of a "direct link."

Putting aside the substance of the reporter's question-at least for the moment-I raised a larger point about the limits of human knowledge. I responded: Reports that say something hasn't happened are always interesting to me because as we know, there are known knowns: there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns: that is to say we know there are some things [we know] we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns-the ones we don't know we don't know. And if one looks throughout the history of our country and other free countries, it is the latter category that tends to be the difficult one.

At first glance, the logic may seem obscure. But behind the enigmatic language is a simple truth about knowledge: There are many things of which we are completely unaware-in fact, there are things of which we are so unaware, we don't even know we are unaware of them.

Known knowns are facts, rules, and laws that we know with certainty. We know, for example, that gravity is what makes an object fall to the ground.

Known unknowns are gaps in our knowledge, but they are gaps that we know exist. We know, for example, that we don't know the exact extent of Iran's nuclear weapons program. If we ask the right questions we can potentially fill this gap in our knowledge, eventually making it a known known.

The category of unknown unknowns is the most difficult to grasp. They are gaps in our knowledge, but gaps that we don't know exist. Genuine surprises tend to arise out of this category. Nineteen hijackers using commercial airliners as guided missiles to incinerate three thousand men, women, and children was perhaps the most horrific single unknown unknown America has experienced.

I first heard a variant of the phrase "known unknowns" in a discussion with former NASA administrator William R. Graham, when we served together on the Ballistic Missile Threat Commission in the late 1990s. Members of our bipartisan commission were concerned that some briefers from the U.S. intelligence community treated the fact that they lacked information about a possible activity to infer that the activity had not happened and would not. In other words, if something could not be proven to be true, then it could be a.s.sumed not to be true. This led to misjudgments about the ballistic missile capabilities of other nations, which in some cases proved to be more advanced than previously thought.

The idea of known and unknown unknowns recognizes that the information those in positions of responsibility in government, as well as in other human endeavors, have at their disposal is almost always incomplete. It emphasizes the importance of intellectual humility, a valuable attribute in decision making and in formulating strategy. It is difficult to accept-to know-that there may be important unknowns. The best strategists try to imagine and consider the possible, even if it seems unlikely. They are then more likely to be prepared and agile enough to adjust course if and when new and surprising information requires it-when things that were previously unknown become known.

I also encountered this concept in Thomas Sch.e.l.ling's foreword to Roberta Wohlstetter's book Pearl Harbor: Warning and Decision, Pearl Harbor: Warning and Decision, in which Sch.e.l.ling identified a "poverty of expectations" as the primary explanation for America's inability to antic.i.p.ate and thwart the j.a.panese attack on Hawaii. in which Sch.e.l.ling identified a "poverty of expectations" as the primary explanation for America's inability to antic.i.p.ate and thwart the j.a.panese attack on Hawaii.1 Sch.e.l.ling's message was as clear as it was prescient: We needed to prepare for the likelihood that we would be attacked by an unantic.i.p.ated foe in ways that we may not imagine. Going back in history, the influential nineteenth-century German military theorist Carl von Clausewitz emphasized the challenges of dealing with incomplete or faulty intelligence and the inevitability of surprise. Sch.e.l.ling's message was as clear as it was prescient: We needed to prepare for the likelihood that we would be attacked by an unantic.i.p.ated foe in ways that we may not imagine. Going back in history, the influential nineteenth-century German military theorist Carl von Clausewitz emphasized the challenges of dealing with incomplete or faulty intelligence and the inevitability of surprise.2 Some with an interest in philosophy have made note of a line attributed to Socrates: "I neither know nor think that I know." Some with an interest in philosophy have made note of a line attributed to Socrates: "I neither know nor think that I know."3 This has been interpreted to mean that the beginning of wisdom is the realization of how little one truly knows. This has been interpreted to mean that the beginning of wisdom is the realization of how little one truly knows.

One known unknown for me was how to write a book. I had never tried to do so before. I didn't know whether or how to incorporate the hundreds of thousands of pages of primary source doc.u.ments in my personal archive. I still have my parents' almost daily letters to each other during World War II, hundreds of notes on the reasons I cast my votes while serving in the Congress during the 1960s, and my detailed memos of my meetings with President Ford as White House chief of staff to ensure that his requests and directions were executed. I also have some twenty thousand memos humorously characterized as "snowflakes" from my tenure as secretary of defense in the George W. Bush administration, some recording momentous decisions, others simply scheduling a time for a haircut. Thousands more doc.u.ments reside in cla.s.sified archives at the Library of Congress, the State Department, and the Department of Defense.

Despite its challenging volume, I decided my archive could augment my personal recollections. On the one hand, the doc.u.ments would add detail and context to my memories, and on the other, they would cause me to more rigorously challenge what I remembered. A portion of my archive will be available in digital form on my web site, www.rumsfeld.com, which accompanies and supports this memoir. I have also released and will continue to release additional doc.u.ments not directly cited in this book but of historical interest nonetheless.

My life has spanned more than one third of the history of the United States. As I thought more about this memoir and a t.i.tle, the idea of the known and the unknown seemed to fit. Not only are there things in this book people believe they know about my life, but there are also things that may surprise and differ from what many may have read or heard or a.s.sumed. The same holds true about many of the events I observed-from my years in Congress during the civil rights struggle and the Vietnam War era, through the Cold War and my service as secretary of defense during the age of terrorism. The known and the unknown are what I have attempted to present in this memoir-that slice of our amazing country's history of which I have been privileged to be a part.

-Donald Rumsfeld, December 2010

PART I

Lessons in Terror"The wind in the tower presages the coming of the storm."-Chinese proverb, as quoted in Rumsfeld's Rules Rumsfeld's Rules

Baghdad.

DECEMBER 20, 1983.

"Amba.s.sador Rumsfeld, may I present to you his Excellency, Saddam Hussein, the President of Iraq."

As his aide announced him, the infamous Iraqi leader approached me confidently. Like other strongmen who pose as popular revolutionaries, Saddam wore military fatigues with a pistol on his hip. Saddam's "revolution," of course, was in reality a coup in which he arrested or murdered his political opponents.

He was above average height and build, and his hair and mustache were so black that I wondered whether he dyed his hair. It was December 20, 1983, the only time I met the man who would become known as the "Butcher of Baghdad."

Saddam stopped a few feet in front of me and smiled. I extended my hand, which he clasped. The cameras rolled.

[image]

In later years, this inelegant video still became one of the most widely viewed political images on the internet.1 My trip to Baghdad that winter as President Reagan's envoy-my official t.i.tle was Personal Representative of the President of the United States in the Middle East-was the highest-level contact by any U.S. official with Iraq's leaders.h.i.+p in twenty-five years. None of us in the Reagan administration harbored illusions about Saddam. Like most despots, his career was forged in conflict and hardened by bloodshed. He had used chemical toxins in the war he initiated with Iran three years earlier. But given the reality of the Middle East, then as now, America often had to deal with rulers who were deemed "less bad" than the others. The sands constantly s.h.i.+fted during evaluations of our country's potential friends and possible foes. And in 1983, at least, some leaders in the region seemed even less appetizing to deal with than Saddam Hussein.

Iraq's Baathist regime was at the time the bitter adversary of two nations that threatened the interests of the United States-Syria and Iran. Syria, under President Hafez al-a.s.sad, was a leading supporter of international terrorism and occupied portions of Lebanon, a country that when left to its own devices favored the West. Iran had been a close friend of the United States until the 1979 coup by militant Islamists led by a radical cleric, Ayatollah Khomeini. The subsequent abduction of sixty-six Americans at the U.S. emba.s.sy in Tehran by pro-Khomeini revolutionaries poisoned U.S.-Iranian relations and further damaged the troubled presidency of Jimmy Carter, whose response appeared hapless.*

Iraq sat between these two menaces-Syria and Iran. It must have taken a good deal of effort, or more likely some mistakes, for America to be on the bad side of all three countries. By 1983, there was a clear logic in trying to cultivate warmer relations with Saddam Hussein's Iraq. The tide of the Iran-Iraq war had turned against Iraq. Iran was launching human ma.s.s wave attacks-children as young as twelve were sent marching toward Iraqi lines, clearing a way through minefields with their bodies. Whatever misgivings we had about reaching out to Saddam Hussein, the alternative of Iranian hegemony in the Middle East was decidedly worse. The Reagan administration had recognized this reality and had begun to make lower-level diplomatic contacts with the Iraqis some months earlier.

My unusual visit had begun a day earlier, under equally unusual circ.u.mstances. In the late evening of December 19, 1983, I traveled to the Iraqi Foreign Ministry building in Baghdad with a small staff for a preliminary meeting with Saddam's deputy prime minister, Tariq Aziz. Our group-which included Bill Eagleton, the experienced chief of the United States Interests Section in Baghdad, and Robert Pelletreau, a senior State Department official-had helped to prepare me for the visit.

But as we exited an elevator and started down a hall on an upper floor of the Foreign Ministry headquarters, two armed, unsmiling Iraqi guards broke me off from the group. While my startled staff was led straight down the hall, I was turned down a dark corridor to the right. I couldn't help but wonder for the briefest of moments how many Iraqi citizens had been taken alone down dark hallways by men with guns, wondering what might be next.

I was led into a bright but windowless room. The walls were padded in what looked to be white leather. Standing alone was a medium-sized, gray-haired man in thick horn-rimmed gla.s.ses, wearing military fatigues and a pistol on his hip.

"Welcome, Amba.s.sador Rumsfeld," he said in flawless English. "I am Tariq Aziz." He motioned for the guards to leave us and we stood across from each other.

Tariq Aziz later became a familiar figure in Saddam's regime, the man who often appeared on television to defend his government. But Aziz was certainly not the typical Middle Eastern official. His manner was erudite and polished. He had been educated at Baghdad University's College of the Fine Arts and seemed to live quite comfortably as an a.s.syrian Christian in a Muslim country. He was one of Saddam's most trusted senior officials-which, considering Saddam's rampant paranoia, was no small achievement-and one of the few to survive long in his...o...b..t. As a sign of his stature, he was serving in the dual roles of deputy prime minister and foreign minister.

It was never explained to me why the Iraqis decided to part with the arrangements we had agreed on and pull me away from my staff. My sense was that Aziz thought we could be more direct without others present. That indeed turned out to be the case.

For the next two-plus hours we had an intense, candid, rapid-fire discussion about my mission to Baghdad and the relations.h.i.+p between our two countries. Aziz seemed well versed on the Reagan administration and my role as the President's envoy. I found myself favorably impressed by his knowledge and interest in the world beyond Iraq.

Our long conversation covered a host of issues. Most important was our mutual interest in keeping both Syria and Iran contained. Iran was of particular interest to Aziz, for understandable reasons: He had survived an a.s.sa.s.sination attempt a few years earlier that had been attributed to Iranian agents, an attack that Saddam used as one of the pretexts for launching the Iran-Iraq war. Aziz asked for our help in dissuading America's friends and allies from supplying arms to Iran. I told him, as Reagan administration officials had previously, that any efforts to a.s.sist Iraq were hampered by the regime's use of chemical weapons and human rights abuses.2 I had questions as to exactly how Iraq might be helpful to us. Nonetheless, it was still clear that Iran's leaders.h.i.+p, due to their bitter hostility toward the United States and their history of holding Americans hostage, remained unapproachable. I had questions as to exactly how Iraq might be helpful to us. Nonetheless, it was still clear that Iran's leaders.h.i.+p, due to their bitter hostility toward the United States and their history of holding Americans hostage, remained unapproachable.

I made the point that the United States and Iraq had some shared interests. "It seems unnatural," I said, "to have a whole generation of Iraqis growing up knowing little about America and a whole generation of Americans growing up knowing little about Iraq." Aziz nodded in agreement.

My meeting with Saddam, which took place the next morning, has been the subject of gossip, rumors, and crackpot conspiracy theories for more than a quarter of a century, particularly after I was involved in the administration that removed him from power in 2003. Supposedly I had been sent to see Saddam by President Reagan either to negotiate a secret oil deal, to help arm Iraq, or to make Iraq an American client state. The truth is that our encounter was more straightforward and less dramatic.

As I met with the Iraqi leader, we sat at opposite ends of a gold and burgundyupholstered couch amid plush surroundings. The large room had intricately carved wooden doors and walls inlaid with marble. In a country where the people didn't receive reliable electricity or water, it was discordantly ostentatious.

Our meeting was considerably more formal than my long session with Aziz. This time I wasn't pulled off alone. Two members of our mission were included-Bill Eagleton and Robert Pelletreau-along with Aziz and an Iraqi interpreter.

The war with Iran was naturally uppermost in Saddam's mind. Iraq's capital, Baghdad, was a mere one hundred miles from the Iranian border and suffering frequent sh.e.l.ling and rocket attacks. Even the presidential complex where we were meeting was protected by sandbags and barriers. Though Saddam was in a difficult situation, he made no direct request for American military a.s.sistance. Like Aziz, Saddam said he was concerned about other nations providing military and financial a.s.sistance to Iran and clearly hoped that the United States might have some influence with them.3 In addition, at the State Department's request, I discussed a proposal to funnel Iraqi oil through a pipeline that ended in Aqaba, Jordan. In addition, at the State Department's request, I discussed a proposal to funnel Iraqi oil through a pipeline that ended in Aqaba, Jordan.4 Saddam said he would consider the idea but indicated it would require American a.s.surance that Israel would not attack it. Saddam said he would consider the idea but indicated it would require American a.s.surance that Israel would not attack it.5 Though officially most Arab nations didn't even acknowledge Israel as a nation, they tended to view its formidable military with respect. Though officially most Arab nations didn't even acknowledge Israel as a nation, they tended to view its formidable military with respect.

Saddam indicated a surprising amount of openness to cooperation with the West. "France in particular," he said, "understood the Iraqi view."6 Over the years that followed, that particular remark came to my mind on more than one occasion, and I never had cause to doubt it. Over the years that followed, that particular remark came to my mind on more than one occasion, and I never had cause to doubt it.

At one point, Saddam motioned me over to a window and pointed toward a tall building on the city's skyline.

"See that building?" he asked, as we looked out at Baghdad's sprawling vista. I nodded.

"When an elevator in that building breaks, where do we look to have it repaired?" he asked. I waited for his conclusion.

"I look for help in the West," he continued. His point was clear: Iraq needed the West to make his country part of the modern world. Looking back, I wonder how much of our recent history would have changed if his perspective at the time had outweighed his other goals and appet.i.tes.

As Saddam and I began to discuss the prospects for U.S.-Iraqi relations, he said something quite interesting.

"It seems unnatural," he said, "to have a whole generation of Iraqis growing up knowing little about America and a whole generation of Americans growing up knowing little about Iraq."

I concealed a smile. Those, of course, were my exact words late the night before. Certainly Saddam's repeating them was no coincidence. I didn't know how Saddam had heard my statement-if Aziz had told him personally or if, as was not at all unlikely, the room Aziz and I met in was bugged. In any event, I was pleased and encouraged that he repeated it so pointedly. I began to think that through increased contacts we might be able to persuade the Iraqis to lean toward the United States and eventually modify their behavior.

After Saddam repeated my words back to me, I nodded. "I agree completely," I replied, as if it were the first time I had heard those thoughts.

Over my decades of public service I received a number of unusual gifts from foreign leaders and heads of state, but none was stranger than the one Saddam presented to me. It was a videotape that may well have been put together specifically for my visit, though the production values weren't going to win it any Oscars. The tape contained two to three minutes of amateurish footage of Syria's dictator, Hafez al-a.s.sad, reviewing Syrian troops and applauding. Then it showed people purported to be Syrians strangling puppies. This was followed by a line of young women biting the heads off of snakes. The video appeared edited in a way that indicated a.s.sad was present and applauding these gruesome acts. I suspect Saddam wanted me to see the Syrians, and a.s.sad in particular, as savages. Considering the a.s.sad regime's history, that wasn't a difficult sell.

After about ninety minutes, Saddam thanked me for coming, and I expressed my appreciation. As odd as it might sound, he came across as rather reasonable. For his part, Saddam seemed gratified to have had a visit by a senior American official representing President Reagan. He knew it would increase his stature both at home and in the region.

I did not expect that Saddam's regime would play such a prominent role in our country's future-and in my life-in the years ahead. After a hiatus of seventeen years, U.S.-Iraq diplomatic relations were reestablished in 1984 shortly after my meeting. We had convergent interests: America could a.s.sist Iraq by discouraging other countries from selling arms to Iran, and Iraq could a.s.sist America by holding the line against an ascendant radical Islamist and terrorist-supporting regime in Iran. Ultimately, of course, the United States was unable to reorient our relations with Iraq, and my visit to Baghdad was something of a side event. America's primary concern in the region at the time was not Iraq but the small, troubled nation of Lebanon, which was being ripped apart by terrorism and civil war. No experience better prepared me for the challenges I would face many years later, as secretary of defense in the George W. Bush administration, than the crisis in Lebanon. Many times, in fact, I looked back on the hopes and disappointments of that period, the consequences of which still reverberate. did not expect that Saddam's regime would play such a prominent role in our country's future-and in my life-in the years ahead. After a hiatus of seventeen years, U.S.-Iraq diplomatic relations were reestablished in 1984 shortly after my meeting. We had convergent interests: America could a.s.sist Iraq by discouraging other countries from selling arms to Iran, and Iraq could a.s.sist America by holding the line against an ascendant radical Islamist and terrorist-supporting regime in Iran. Ultimately, of course, the United States was unable to reorient our relations with Iraq, and my visit to Baghdad was something of a side event. America's primary concern in the region at the time was not Iraq but the small, troubled nation of Lebanon, which was being ripped apart by terrorism and civil war. No experience better prepared me for the challenges I would face many years later, as secretary of defense in the George W. Bush administration, than the crisis in Lebanon. Many times, in fact, I looked back on the hopes and disappointments of that period, the consequences of which still reverberate.

CHAPTER 1

Smiling Death.

On October 23, 1983, as dawn broke in the Middle East, a water delivery truck was headed for an American military facility at Beirut International Airport. The truck had been hijacked and loaded with explosives, the equivalent of some twelve thousand pounds of TNT.1 An eyewitness who caught a glimpse of the driver characterized him as "smiling death" for his chillingly cheerful expression as the truck headed toward his target-a four-story building that housed sixteen hundred men and women in uniform and flew the flag of the United States of America. An eyewitness who caught a glimpse of the driver characterized him as "smiling death" for his chillingly cheerful expression as the truck headed toward his target-a four-story building that housed sixteen hundred men and women in uniform and flew the flag of the United States of America.2 After the truck barreled through the building's entrance, it ignited an explosion so ma.s.sive that it briefly lifted the entire structure into the air, until it collapsed upon itself. A second bomb, targeting French military personnel, had gone off almost simultaneously, killing fifty-eight. After the truck barreled through the building's entrance, it ignited an explosion so ma.s.sive that it briefly lifted the entire structure into the air, until it collapsed upon itself. A second bomb, targeting French military personnel, had gone off almost simultaneously, killing fifty-eight.

By the time the rubble settled, 241 Americans were dead.* They had been part of a Marine contingent and multinational force deployed to Lebanon to serve as a check on the warring factions of that country. The Beirut airport bombing was the largest loss of Marines in a single incident since the Battle of Iwo Jima in World War II. And until September 11, 2001, it was the worst terrorist attack ever committed against American citizens. They had been part of a Marine contingent and multinational force deployed to Lebanon to serve as a check on the warring factions of that country. The Beirut airport bombing was the largest loss of Marines in a single incident since the Battle of Iwo Jima in World War II. And until September 11, 2001, it was the worst terrorist attack ever committed against American citizens.

At the time of the Beirut attack I was home in Chicago and serving as chief executive officer of G. D. Searle & Co., a pharmaceutical company. As I watched the pictures of the huge plume of smoke over the bomb site on television, I was stunned by the scale of the attack. So was President Reagan, who appeared grief-stricken as one after another flag-draped coffin containing murdered Americans returned home. The Marine barracks bombing, Reagan later said, was the saddest day of his presidency and maybe the saddest day of his life.3 Many groups immediately claimed credit for it, but eventually the attack was linked to a fledgling terrorist group backed by Iran and Syria. The group called itself Hezbollah, Arabic for "Party of G.o.d," even as they committed this brazen act of ma.s.s murder. The bombing clearly had been intended to spark an American withdrawal from Lebanon so that Syria, Hezbollah's sponsor, which already occupied a third of the country, could gain even more influence.*

In an effort to show America's resolve, Vice President George H. W. Bush was dispatched to Beirut. "We're not going to let a bunch of insidious terrorists, cowards, shape the foreign policy of the United States," Bush vowed.4 As I watched the scene, I was uncomfortable with his word choice. I have never thought people willing to drive a truck bomb into a building and kill themselves were "cowards." Rather, I saw them as dangerous fanatics willing to do anything for their cause. I did agree with him that we should not let terrorists shape the foreign policy of the United States. As I watched the scene, I was uncomfortable with his word choice. I have never thought people willing to drive a truck bomb into a building and kill themselves were "cowards." Rather, I saw them as dangerous fanatics willing to do anything for their cause. I did agree with him that we should not let terrorists shape the foreign policy of the United States.

As America continued to bring the dead home, there was a profound sense that the country should respond forcefully to the atrocity. In the aftermath of the attack, the most powerful nation in the world did not.

With no substantive military response in the offing, the only other way the United States could react to the terrorist challenge was through aggressive diplomacy. The President decided that a fresh set of eyes might be useful in the Middle East, and that it would at least demonstrate his and our country's concern.

Shortly after the Beirut bombing, I received a phone call from Secretary of State George Shultz, who I first had met in 1969 when we served in the Nixon administration, and who had been a friend ever since. Shultz was President Reagan's second secretary of state, replacing Alexander Haig, another colleague of ours from the Nixon years. A former Marine with a low-key demeanor, Shultz spoke plainly. He said the President needed to appoint a new special envoy to the Middle East to work on the Lebanon crisis and help with the American response to the terrorist attacks. Shultz said they wanted someone who had standing outside of the government. "I'd like you to do it," he said.

If I agreed, the task would be to support the Lebanese government, to work with our allies on encouraging the Syrians to ratchet down their aggressive behavior, and to signal America's commitment to the region.

I knew the history of presidential envoys to the Middle East was not a happy one. I had observed the challenges of America's diplomacy in the region over my years in Congress and my service in the Nixon and Ford administrations, during which a number of experienced foreign policy officials worked in the region with hopes of breakthroughs, generally to return disappointed. I requested and received a leave of absence as CEO of Searle. Then I prepared to go to Was.h.i.+ngton to meet with President Reagan as he coped with the biggest national security crisis his administration had yet encountered.

Ronald Reagan had been in office for more than two years when he faced the Lebanon crisis. I had come to know him when he was governor of California and I was serving in the Nixon and Ford administrations. I was used to seeing him on television or being with him at more formal events when he had the aura of a movie star. Instead, as I entered the Oval Office on November 3, 1983, he looked quite different. The President welcomed me into the room with horn-rimmed granny gla.s.ses perched on his nose and a stack of papers in his hand, which he referenced occasionally while talking.

The caricature often used by Reagan's critics was that he was good-hearted but not particularly bright-an "amiable dunce," one said. I had heard the same charge of low candle power made against nearly every Republican president in my adult lifetime, usually by those on the other side who couldn't imagine how anyone intelligent could possibly disagree with them. In Reagan's case, as in others, the caricature simply wasn't true. The President was not a detail-oriented manager, to be sure. He enjoyed telling a humorous anecdote, even during the most serious of meetings. He lacked the hard-charging style so often common among Was.h.i.+ngton politicians, and his approach took some getting used to. But as I came to know Reagan over the years, it was clear that he had the strong, long-range strategic sense so essential to successful leaders.h.i.+p. Now that Reagan's letters and other writings have been published, it is instructive to see his insightful mind at work.

Some presidents allow themselves to get lost in minutiae. Reagan's predecessor, Jimmy Carter, was a famous micromanager. Ronald Reagan didn't have that problem. He knew where he wanted to lead America, and set the course for his administration around large principles. He left it to others to sort out the details while standing ready to provide course corrections and calibration as necessary. While that didn't always serve his best interests, for the most part it worked exceedingly well.

"My idea of American policy...is simple," he told aides when asked his view on the Soviet Union. "We win and they lose." Critics scoffed at that statement as simplistic bravado, but in truth it was a big idea, bold and transformative. For a number of years before Reagan took office, the architecture of the federal government and the foreign policy establishment had been built around the notion of peaceful coexistence, or "detente," as it was called, with the Soviets. It was not fas.h.i.+onable to look at the Cold War as a win-lose proposition. The Soviet Union was considered more an unfortunate fact of life. But Reagan knew that major strategic changes in U.S. policy could be made by a president who had thought the subject through, was determined to redirect policy, and had an effective team of senior officials ready to implement his vision. The ultimate confirmation of his wisdom toward the Soviets, of course, is that President Reagan accomplished what he set out to do.

With regard to the crisis in Lebanon, Reagan's words were similarly straightforward, even if things ended up turning out quite different than he'd initially hoped. On the Middle East, Reagan's instincts were consistent with his policy against the Soviets: to use American strength to protect and encourage the aspirations of free people and to deter those who would break the peace. The President said we could not allow terrorists to drive us from Lebanon. At the same time, he was aware that when it came to the maneuverings of the Middle East, the United States was holding a difficult hand that would require substantial time and patience to play successfully. Those two commodities were in short supply. Reagan's major national security focus was the Soviet Union, as it should have been at the height of the Cold War. For the time being at least, his goal in the Middle East was to try to bring about some modest degree of stability.

I told Reagan I would do my best to represent our country's interests in the region. He thanked me for agreeing to come onboard at a difficult time for the country and pledged his support for the mission. Yet it was apparent that the "mission" wasn't all that clear.

Throughout the Lebanon crisis, Reagan got the rhetoric right-he declared that America would not cower in the face of terror or abandon our friends in the region-but I could tell from our first meeting that formulating a consistent policy was going to be more difficult. It was hard to plant a standard toward a goal when there was little or no solid ground in which to set it.

After our discussion in the Oval Office, President Reagan and I walked to the White House press briefing room, where he introduced me as his special envoy to the Middle East.6 The press began with typical Was.h.i.+ngton-style queries. They noted that I was Reagan's third Middle East envoy in three years, the latest diplomat being sent out to undertake the Sisyphean task of rolling a boulder up a never-ending hill. Why, some wondered, would I take such a "no-win job"? I responded that I simply wanted to be helpful, despite the difficulty of the challenge. But what I didn't say was that I also had to try to manage expectations. As I told George Shultz, "I promise you will never hear out of my mouth the phrase 'The U.S. seeks a just and lasting peace in the Middle East.' There is little that is just, and the only things I've seen that are lasting are conflict, blackmail and killing-not peace." The press began with typical Was.h.i.+ngton-style queries. They noted that I was Reagan's third Middle East envoy in three years, the latest diplomat being sent out to undertake the Sisyphean task of rolling a boulder up a never-ending hill. Why, some wondered, would I take such a "no-win job"? I responded that I simply wanted to be helpful, despite the difficulty of the challenge. But what I didn't say was that I also had to try to manage expectations. As I told George Shultz, "I promise you will never hear out of my mouth the phrase 'The U.S. seeks a just and lasting peace in the Middle East.' There is little that is just, and the only things I've seen that are lasting are conflict, blackmail and killing-not peace."7 I thought the best I could hope for was to make some modest progress. Under the circ.u.mstances I knew that even keeping things from getting worse in the Middle East could be valuable. I thought the best I could hope for was to make some modest progress. Under the circ.u.mstances I knew that even keeping things from getting worse in the Middle East could be valuable.8 Because I wasn't on the federal payroll, I had hoped that would free me from some of the burdens of the federal bureaucracy. That was wishful thinking. A Department of State functionary decided I had to be cla.s.sified technically as an "unpaid government employee." As such, a legal t.i.tle was needed for me so that they could determine which cla.s.sification applied. Was I a State Department expert or a consultant, or did I fall into some other category? It was finally concluded that I was to be considered an expert. I was uncomfortable with that cla.s.sification. Anyone who claims to be an expert on the Middle East is starting off on the wrong foot.

I did know Lebanon's plight was agonizing, and that it had worsened since civil war broke out there in 1975. I had been serving as secretary of defense in the Ford administration when the Department of Defense (DoD) a.s.sisted in the evacuation of American citizens from the country. The Lebanese civil war ultimately claimed 150,000 lives, and by 1983, the loss of life was already monumental-"comparable to the United States losing ten million of its citizens," Reagan declared that December. did know Lebanon's plight was agonizing, and that it had worsened since civil war broke out there in 1975. I had been serving as secretary of defense in the Ford administration when the Department of Defense (DoD) a.s.sisted in the evacuation of American citizens from the country. The Lebanese civil war ultimately claimed 150,000 lives, and by 1983, the loss of life was already monumental-"comparable to the United States losing ten million of its citizens," Reagan declared that December.9 Hundreds of thousands of the most successful and educated Lebanese fled the country. The countryside outside Beirut came under the control of Lebanese militias that had little or no allegiance to the central government. Hundreds of thousands of the most successful and educated Lebanese fled the country. The countryside outside Beirut came under the control of Lebanese militias that had little or no allegiance to the central government.

Complicating matters further, by the time of the 1983 Beirut bombing a large fraction of the country was occupied by Lebanon's neighboring and rival foreign powers, Syria and Israel. The Syrians had a proprietary att.i.tude toward Lebanon, which they considered part of greater Syria. Israel had invaded in June 1982 to protect its territory from the Palestinian terrorist camps that were operating inside Lebanon. The Syrians resented the Israeli occupation, the Israelis resented the Syrian occupation, and the Lebanese resented being occupied by anyone. In the middle of all this hostility was a small contingent of American military personnel as part of a multinational peacekeeping force.

From a safe distance in Was.h.i.+ngton, it was easy for American leaders to say that we'd never let terrorists defeat us in Lebanon or push us to withdraw. But it became apparent that fulfilling that pledge would have required far more than Americans were prepared to muster. There was little appet.i.te anywhere-in the administration, in Congress, or among the American people-to increase our military commitment to Lebanon, especially after the outrage over the Beirut bombing dissipated.

Lebanon, I soon learned, was also the subject of intense debate even within the administration. Many in the Pentagon, including Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger, favored an early and complete withdrawal from the country. The American troops still on the ground were in largely indefensible positions and were being targeted by the Syrian-backed extremists. Because of the dangers they faced, the troops' movements were severely restricted. They were using, as Weinberger later put it, "fruitless tactics in pursuit of unreachable goals."* During his trip to Beirut after the bombings, even Vice President Bush, who publicly expressed support for our presence, privately characterized the pleas of Lebanon's president for American support unpersuasive. During his trip to Beirut after the bombings, even Vice President Bush, who publicly expressed support for our presence, privately characterized the pleas of Lebanon's president for American support unpersuasive.11 On the other side of the issue was Secretary of State Shultz, who favored maintaining an American military presence to help stabilize the Lebanese government. The unpleasant alternative to that, Shultz pointed out, was to have the country become a client state of Syria or an ungoverned haven for terrorists and extremists. Shultz's position was bolstered by a number of our strongest allies in the region. King Hussein of Jordan, for example, made it clear that if the United States were to leave Lebanon, we would essentially be out of the Middle East dynamic. Of greater concern, the King felt that without an American counterweight in Lebanon, Syria would likely turn its attention toward Jordan, and then to Saudi Arabia. Saddam Hussein told me during our meeting in Baghdad that he believed the United States had been indifferent to Syria's initial invasion of Lebanon and had "let this group of lunatics bash each other."12 It was an experience to be on the receiving end of a lecture from Saddam Hussein, especially when he might have been right. It was an experience to be on the receiving end of a lecture from Saddam Hussein, especially when he might have been right.

I gravitated toward Shultz's view. I believed that since we were there, we should keep some forces on the ground, and do so without specifying a time limit. And we needed to encourage our coalition partners-the British, French, and Italians-to stay for a period as well. It was in all of our interests to try to help the Lebanese build some internal unity and develop the capability to better defend themselves. If the Syrians saw that we would not be run out of Beirut, they might be more amenable to negotiations with the Lebanese government. Importantly, this was where President Reagan had come down as well.

Unfortunately, the administration's strategy faced another major impediment, namely the United States Congress. During the late phase of the Vietnam War, Congress had pa.s.sed the War Powers Resolution, which required a withdrawal of American military forces deployed to another country within sixty to ninety days absent the explicit authorization of Congress.* The resolution, despite its questionable and still untested const.i.tutionality, undercut the President's ability to convince troublemakers of America's staying power. It was clear to anyone with a newspaper that Congress wanted out. The resolution, despite its questionable and still untested const.i.tutionality, undercut the President's ability to convince troublemakers of America's staying power. It was clear to anyone with a newspaper that Congress wanted out.