No Higher Honor: A Memoir of My Years in Washington

by Condoleezza Rice

  In fact the foundation for agreement with the Russians had been laid in the last months of 2007. At the UN General Assembly in September, I’d asked to see Lavrov alone. I told him that we needed to see if we could crack the Iranian problem before the Bush administration left office. Taking him into my confidence, I told him about an idea that I’d discussed only with the President and Steve Hadley, though Nick Burns and a few others at the department were aware of it. I wanted to put a U.S. interest section in Tehran. An interest section handles routine matters within a foreign country, such as advocating for U.S. citizens who are in trouble and issuing visas to foreign citizens who want to travel to the United States. The Foreign Service officers who staff them are not engaged in high-level diplomacy, and having one does not mean that relations are on a normal course. We have long maintained such a presence in Havana, for instance.

  When a country does not have an interest section, it is represented in such matters by a “protecting power,” in our case Switzerland. If we could take on these tasks for ourselves we would gain one key advantage: firsthand knowledge of the terrain. U.S. diplomats had been out of Iran for almost thirty years. The last Americans to serve in Iran were nearing retirement or had already left the Foreign Service. We had few Farsi-speaking officers in the diplomatic ranks or in the intelligence services. More important, we had no eyes and ears on the ground. Rather, we were forced to rely on our friends in Australia or the United Kingdom to give us diplomatic reporting on the place, which was so crucial to our interests.

  One day while sitting with the able Australian ambassador as he relayed his impressions of the unfolding events in Iran, I was reminded that we were making policy toward Iran with one hand tied behind our back. By establishing the Dubai station in the UAE, which could make visas available to Iranian citizens, we’d tried to give ourselves better access to the people of Iran and a window on what was going on there. But there’s no substitute for the on-the-ground presence of experienced diplomats, who, even just through osmosis, can pick up key signals and important trends. It might even give us a platform from which to get to know and engage dissidents in the country. The interest section in Cuba had done so for years. Iran maintained an interest section in the United States. Why shouldn’t we do the same?

  When I told Lavrov, he was very excited and wanted to discuss it with the Iranians right away. I explained that I had a lot of work to do at home if we were going to move in that direction. “Sergei, this can’t be seen as a favor to the Iranians,” I said. “This is a hardheaded calculation of what is in our interest, but I wanted you to know what I’m thinking.”

  I then asked him whether President Putin could get in direct contact with Ayatollah Khamenei in order to gauge whether there was really a possibility of resolving the nuclear issue. President Bush had often remarked that dealing with the Iranians put us into a position where we could never negotiate directly with the decision maker. Ali Larijani, their negotiator on nuclear issues, Foreign Minister Mottaki, and even President Ahmadinejad didn’t have the authority; that rested with Khamenei, whose thinking no one seemed to know. The President wanted a way to know directly what Khamenei was thinking. He had made the point to Putin at Kennebunkport, drawing interest from the Russian in what he might personally be able to do.

  Lavrov said that he’d go back to Moscow and talk to Putin. “This can’t leak,” I said. He agreed, and it didn’t.

  Putin, he said, could easily get a message to Khamenei and see what it would take. “Can he mention the interest section?” he asked.

  “No,” I answered, “I don’t think so—at least not yet.” Two weeks later I was in Moscow with Bob Gates to talk about missile defense cooperation. Putin pulled me aside and said that he’d gotten Lavrov’s message. He said I should tell the President that he’d see Khamenei at a summit of the five Caspian nations the following week.

  When he returned from the summit on October 16, Putin called to tell the President that he’d delivered a message to Khamenei that the Americans wanted to solve the problem. But the Iranians did not take up our diplomatic outreach, as Larijani unexpectedly resigned several days after Putin’s conversation with the Supreme Leader. Most people saw this as a signal that the more radical elements of the Iranian regime had further consolidated control of the nuclear program. Though the Russians complained about the U.S. announcement, five days later, of sanctions against the IRGC, they were more upset with Iran’s decision to reject yet another opportunity to resolve the nuclear stalemate. By the end of October 2007, the Russians’ attitude toward the Iranians had soured significantly. From that time forward, it would be more difficult to get Beijing’s agreement to penalties against Iran than Moscow’s. China was becoming more insistent on defending its own growing economic interests in Iran, particularly as a source of oil and gas. That was a shift from the more passive Chinese posture of the years before.

  The release of the NIE in December would temporarily cause the Russians to back off their support for new sanctions. But they hadn’t forgotten that Putin had gone to Tehran and gotten nothing in return from Khamenei. The Islamic Revolutionary Guards had further poisoned the atmosphere by harassing and provoking three U.S. Navy ships on January 6, 2008. The U.S. commander had demonstrated admirable restraint, but the Pentagon warned the Iranians that they were playing with fire. Moscow—along with everyone else—was relieved that the incident hadn’t flared into open confrontation. Tehran was once again digging itself into a diplomatic hole. And as a result, the moment to establish an interest section never came.

  Yet, by the time of the Berlin meetings in January we were back on track for sanctions. The third resolution, negotiated in Germany, was passed in March in New York. Collectively, the three rounds of UN Security Council sanctions against Iran had blacklisted dozens of Iranian individuals and entities for their suspected ties to Iran’s nuclear program. The sanctions prohibited arms exports from Iran as well as the sale of certain equipment or technology that could contribute to the development of a nuclear capability. And alongside measures the United States had taken through Treasury rules and executive orders, we had increased pressure on the Iranians who were beginning to feel the squeeze of the sanctions on their economy. Iran might not have verifiably disarmed by the time we left office, but it would be forced to make a choice: suspend its nuclear program or risk further isolation for its intransigence. That strategy is still in place today.

  THE BERLIN meeting was the last for Nick Burns, who’d done a superb job as my point man on Iran for three years. At the end of 2007 he’d come to me and said that he needed to leave; it was time for him to retire from the Foreign Service after twenty-seven years. Nick said he needed to go into the private sector to sustain three daughters in expensive educational institutions—a dilemma I fully understood. It was what it was. That said, I was so sad to see him go. He’d been my wingman on this tough issue and many others, and he had my trust. Nick had taken no small amount of abuse, particularly from the Russians. In fact, at a dinner in 2006 Lavrov had taken the unusual step of chastising Nick, leading British Foreign Secretary Margaret Beckett to defend him. “I don’t take kindly to ministers assaulting other people’s [lower-ranking] officials at my dinner table,” she’d said. Nick was tough enough to get the Russian’s attention and grudging respect. Replacing him wouldn’t be easy.

  I turned to the one person whom I thought capable of a last push on a number of issues, especially the Iranian challenge: our ambassador to Russia, Bill Burns. He had the advantage of also being an expert on the Middle East. Bill didn’t want to leave Moscow, a city that his wife and daughter loved and where he was indeed doing a fine job. But he agreed to return to Washington as “P,” or under secretary for political affairs and the third-ranking officer in the department. He’d carry forward our efforts to crack the Iranian problem before our time ran out.

  I left Berlin and headed to the World Economic Forum at Davos, the gathering of the globe’s economic and political e
lites high in the Swiss Alps. It was my last year as secretary, and I’d promised the forum’s founder, Klaus Schwab, that I would appear during my term. The trip over the Alps to the conference was worth the effort. The sight from the window of the Swiss army helicopter was easily the most breathtaking I’ve ever experienced. I’ve always been most at peace in the high mountains, such as the Colorado Rockies of my teenage years in Denver. But I’d never seen anything like this, and on my return that night it was even more extraordinary—timeless and spiritual.

  I decided to use the occasion of my speech at the conference on January 23 to take on some of the shibboleths about the Bush administration and to send one last message to our friends and foes alike. “Well, I can assure you that America has no permanent enemies,” I said, “because we harbor no permanent hatreds.” It was not meant as an unconditional outreach to Tehran or Pyongyang; rather, it was intended as a conditional invitation to jointly find an end to the nuclear crises through diplomacy rather than confrontation. Neither regime would last; of that I was sure. The question was whether they’d collapse before becoming full-blown nuclear threats. That seemed less likely. Iran was starting to produce small amounts of enriched uranium. The North Koreans were considered a threat because of their ability to process plutonium and enrich uranium—and then sell the product and their knowledge to the highest bidder. Iran and North Korea were already heavily sanctioned, but what was the time frame in which penalties might work? We might not have time to bring about regime change absent wars that we couldn’t afford to launch. Could we change the policy of the regimes instead? I was determined to ask that question as creatively and aggressively as possible in the time left to us. At least the world and the next U.S. President would know that we’d tried to give our enemies a chance to change course.

  Free Trade in the Americas

  I WAS HOME from Switzerland exactly twenty-four hours before boarding a plane for Medellín, Colombia, with nine members of Congress in tow. The trip was intended to rally support for passage of the United States–Colombia Free Trade Agreement (CFTA). Together with planned free trade agreements (FTAs) for Panama and South Korea, the CFTA would complete the Bush administration’s bilateral trade agenda and perhaps give a spur to the flagging prospects for a successful end to the Doha Round of the World Trade Organization.

  The President was an enthusiastic free trader, believing in the power of open markets to spur economic growth. The economic arguments were powerful, as was the political rationale globally. The United States was the strongest proponent of free trade because it helped spur economic growth at home and abroad and created a basis for a more stable and peaceful international order. That had been the reasoning behind the establishment of such free-trade institutions as the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) at the end of World War II. In 1945 the United States accounted for an enormous share of the world’s GDP. At the time it might have seemed logical to protect that share. But the United States took a different course, believing in free trade as a way to expand the global economic pie. In succeeding years it eschewed the “beggar thy neighbor” protectionism that had helped spur conflict and war.

  Yet though there were large numbers of winners, undeniably there were losers too—industries and workers displaced by cheaper labor and lower expenses abroad. This circumstance led to powerful veto groups, particularly organized labor and, increasingly, environmental interests, that wanted to impose U.S. standards on developing countries. In response, our trade representatives negotiated agreements with very tough labor and environmental requirements. The proposed FTAs with Colombia and Panama reflected the trend.

  So it was something of a shock when opposition arose in Congress over labor protections and human rights, particularly concerning the deal with Colombia. The claim was that the Colombian government had to be held accountable for the deaths of labor organizers at the hands of the paramilitaries, some of whom had been associated with President Álvaro Uribe’s party during the near–civil war with the FARC. The Colombian government was actively prosecuting those responsible, even if they were members of the party, the government, or in some cases close relatives of the leadership. Yes, Colombia had a history of violence toward labor, but the level of violence faced by union members was now less than that faced by the general population, in part because of special protections for labor leaders. The fact is that opposition to the United States–Colombia Free Trade Agreement was thinly disguised protectionism.

  I joined Sue Schwab, Hank Paulson, and Carlos Gutierrez in an all-out effort to get the agreements passed. Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi said she was not opposed to the agreements. I’d known Nancy for several years, since we are both from the Bay Area, and I took her at her word. In numerous private sessions she claimed to be hamstrung by the Democratic Caucus. The idea of traveling to Colombia with a congressional delegation had come out of one of these meetings.

  Medellín was the perfect place to send the message of Colombia’s resurrection from a failed state to a democratic ally of the United States. The city had once been synonymous with Pablo Escobar, the notorious drug kingpin, and trouble. Now it was an up-and-coming urban success story with kids playing peacefully in its parks. We were taken to reeducation centers where former paramilitary members—men and women—received employment training. We also visited a nursery where women were now picking flowers to export to the Netherlands—women who, a year before, had been armed combatants. The message was clear. Colombia’s stability depended on jobs, and the FTA was key to economic development and job creation.

  The members of Congress who accompanied me were clearly impressed by what they’d seen. We ended the day meeting with Uribe, who can be impressive in his defense of his country’s course. At this particular session, though, he was a bit loquacious with his guests, who still faced a five-hour plane ride home. But he was well meaning, and I left Colombia feeling that we’d won over more supporters.

  Still, despite many more meetings, briefings, and sessions with Nancy and Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, who also professed his support for the agreement, we couldn’t get it done. Two years after the Bush administration left office, it still hadn’t been completed.

  The inability to pass the Colombia and Panama FTAs and KORUS (the South Korean agreement) made the collapse of the Doha Round of international trade negotiations on our watch even more painful. The round had begun in November 2001. In the last six months of his time in office, President Bush made concluding the round successfully a personal goal, holding numerous meetings in the Oval Office with Sue Schwab, the economic team, and me. He raised the issue with Manmohan Singh of India, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva of Brazil, and Hu Jintao of China, trying to get the “emerging-market countries” to grant better access to their markets for services and manufactured goods. He worked directly with the Europeans to find a “package deal” that the developed countries could propose to the developing world.

  Agriculture was always the killer, however. It’s remarkable how much farm policy—subsidies in particular—can hinder the free-trade agenda. Even though the President offered to get rid of all U.S. farm subsidies in exchange for expanded access to agricultural markets around the world, we could never get a deal. His veto of the subsidy-laden farm bill in May 2008 was overridden by the Congress.

  Unable to make progress on these bigger trade agreements, we tried one last time, launching an effort to join the Trans-Pacific Partnership, whose original members were Singapore, Brunei, Chile, and New Zealand. I worked hard to get people to sign on but couldn’t help feeling that free trade was dead on our watch—and probably for sometime to come. The United States has led the world toward a free-trading global system and in doing so has helped lift millions of people out of poverty. But it has not shown the same degree of leadership on this issue in recent years. For the sake of the economy, this hiatus should be short-lived.

  48

  IT SEEMS LIKE YESTERDAY—IT SEEMS LIKE FOREVER

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p; I WAS VERY AWARE in 2008 of doing things for the last time. That was true for just about everything, including social events such as the perennial Washington dinners: those of the White House Correspondents’ Association, the Gridiron, and the Alfalfa Club. The last is a membership organization that I’d been tapped to join as a “sprout” in 2002, along with, among others, the President’s brother Marvin Bush and my childhood heroine, the Olympic figure-skating champion Tenley Albright. The Alfalfa dinner is one of those gatherings at which official Washington gets together to roast the President and other luminaries in a sometimes slightly forced show of bipartisanship.

  I didn’t mind the dinners, though they tended to go on well past my bedtime. In the tough years, the jokes had an anti-Bush edge that was a bit uncomfortable. The President always managed to disarm the audience, though, with self-deprecating humor. And the appearance of the marine band at the evening’s beginning was always the event’s highlight. I never liked John Philip Sousa until I heard it played by “The President’s Own,” as the band is called. It was nice too that at the Alfalfa dinner there was only one toast—that being simply, “To the President.”

  I invited my friends Freeman and Jackie Hrabowski to my last Alfalfa dinner, not thinking much about the significance of asking a man who had grown up down the street from me in segregated Birmingham and had gone on to become president of the University of Maryland, Baltimore County. That night as I looked out from the dais—the secretary of state sits at the head table—I thought about our parents and our past: only in America.