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"Every landmine planted is a child, a civilian, a woman, who is just waiting for their legs to be blown off, for his life to be taken," said one survivor who lost a leg to a landmine in 2005.
"Look what anti-personnel landmines will do to your people," read a sign displayed by two of the protesters who gathered in Siem Reap, Cambodia this week to confront delegates at a conference on the Anti-Personnel Mine Ban Treaty.
The people holding the sign were among those who took part in the demonstration while using wheelchairs or crutches due to the amputations and serious injuries they have suffered from landmine attacks.
More than 100 people lined a walkway leading to the conference venue on Sunday as the Siem Reap-Angkor Summit on a Mine-Free World opened.
The conference began days after the Biden administration announced a reversal of its own policy and approved a plan to provide anti-personnel landmines to Ukraine—a decision that was condemned by the International Campaign to Ban Landmines (ICBL) and other human rights groups.
As Amnesty International USA advocacy direct Ben Linden said last week, the weapons are "inherently indiscriminate" because they cause explosives to scatter across a wide region, putting people at risk long after conflicts end. The majority of landmine victims are children.
In 2023, at least 5,757 people were killed or maimed by landmines, 84% of whom were civilians. Over one-third were children.
Alex Munyambabazi, who lost a leg to a landmine in 2005 in Uganda, was among those who assembled at the landmines summit.
"We don't want to see any more victims like me, we don't want to see any more suffering," he told Agence France-Presse (AFP). "Every landmine planted is a child, a civilian, a woman, who is just waiting for their legs to be blown off, for his life to be taken. I am here to say we don't want any more victims. No excuses, no exceptions."
The U.S. and Russia are not signatories to the Convention on the Prohibition of the Use, Stockpiling, Production, and Transfer of Anti-Personnel Mines and on Their Destruction, but Ukraine is. According to U.S. Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin, Ukraine "asked" for anti-personnel landmines.
Tamar Gabelnick, director of ICBL, told AFP that Ukraine's use of U.S.-supplied landmines would signify a "blatant disregard for their obligations under the mine ban treaty."
Ukrainian delegates were present at the Siem Reap conference this week.
In a message delivered to delegates in Siem Reap, United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres acknowledged the "important progress" made by the treaty, "with over 55 million anti-personnel devices destroyed across 13,000 square kilometers in over 60 countries, and thousands of people receiving lifesaving awareness education and victim assistance services."
"I call on states parties to meet their obligations and ensure compliance to the convention, while addressing humanitarian and developmental impacts through financial and technical support," he said. " I also encourage all states that have not yet acceded to the convention to join the 164 that have done so."
"A world without anti-personnel mines is not just possible," Guterres said. "It is within reach."
"The militarized repression of young people speaking out against a terrible war was shameful then and it's shameful now," said one state lawmaker.
As U.S. Republicans push for the deployment of National Guard troops to quell nationwide student demonstrations against the Gaza genocide, progressive lawmakers marked the anniversary of the 1970 Kent State Massacre by condemning police repression of peaceful protesters and reaffirming the power of dissent.
"On the 54th anniversary of the Kent State Massacre, students across our country are being brutalized for standing up to endless war," Congresswoman Cori Bush (D-Mo.) said on social media. "Our country must learn to actually uphold the rights of free speech and assembly upon which it was founded."
Fellow "Squad" member Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-Minn.) said that "54 years ago, the Ohio National Guard opened fire on unarmed students at Kent State."
"Students have a right to speak out, organize, and protest systemic wrongs," she added. "We can't silence those expressing dissent, no matter how uncomfortable their protests may be to those in power."
On May 4, 1970, 28 Ohio National Guard troops fired 67 live rounds into a crowd of unarmed Kent State students rallying against the expansion of the U.S.-led war in Vietnam into Cambodia. They murdered students Allison Krause, Jeffrey Glenn Miller, Sandra Lee Scheuer, and William Knox Schroeder—all aged 19 or 20. Nine other students were wounded, including one who was permanently paralyzed.
"The militarized repression of young people speaking out against a terrible war was shameful then and it's shameful now," New York state Assemblywoman Emily Gallagher (D-50) said on Saturday.
Protests against Israel's assault on Gaza—which according to Palestinian and international officials has killed, maimed, or left missing more than 123,000 Gazans—have spread to dozens of campuses across the U.S. and around the world. Police have been called in to break up protest encampments at numerous schools. Hundreds of students, faculty, and journalists have been arrested, sometimes violently.
At the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), police stood by this week as a pro-Israel mob attacked a campus protest encampment before officers arrested peaceful protesters and supporters.
As law enforcement officials have tried to justify the crackdown by claiming "outside agitators" are behind the protests, some observers noted historical parallels.
"Watching what is happening at UCLA," Virginia state Sen. Mamie Locke (D-2) said on social media. "Old enough to remember Kent State, Jackson State, South Carolina State, and the dog whistles of 'law and order,' 'outside agitators.' So reminiscent of 1968."
On February 8, 1968, police shot 31 students—most of them in the back—at a protest against Jim Crow segregation at South Carolina State University in Orangeburg, murdering three young Black men: Samuel Hammond Jr., Delano Middleton, and Henry Smith.
Eleven days after Kent State, police opened fire on a crowd of Black students protesting the bombing of Cambodia at Jackson State College in Jackson, Mississippi, killing Phillip Lafayette Gibbs and James Earl Green and injuring 12 others.
"Our institutions must learn from these past mistakes to not use militarized responses against unarmed, peaceful student protesters by calling in the National Guard, bringing in state troopers, or deploying police in riot gear," Laurel Krause, the sister of slain Kent State protester Allison Krause, said in a statement marking the ignominious anniversary.
"We must not repeat the horrors of Kent State 54 years later," she added.
Beyond the war crimes that impacted untold millions, perhaps Kissinger’s most abiding legacy was this: the failure of accountability.
As conservative pundits cry crocodile tears over the alleged decline of excellence and integrity at Harvard, symbolized by former University President Claudine Gay, there’s a more significant scandal worth addressing. Recently announced by the University is the Henry A. Kissinger Professorship of Statecraft and World Order.
As specified in the job description, a successful candidate “will be a distinguished analyst of diplomacy, strategy and statecraft,” and have an “excellent record of academic achievement and of contributing to public policy debate on how to build a stable international order.” The presumption is that the late Henry Kissinger exemplified these virtues.
Over the past five decades, the evidence has steadily accumulated that Kissinger was a secretive, fiercely competitive, habitually dishonest, ruthless promoter of American dominance in the world, irrespective of the cost to tens of millions of people. His policy recommendations regarding Chile, Argentina, East Timor, Pakistan, Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia were as destabilizing, as they were cruel. Some of these human rights calamities must surely be known by the authorities at Harvard’s Kennedy School.
Yet at Harvard—as for numerous U.S. institutions and mainstream media—Kissinger’s crimes and failed policies were of no consequence. Certainly not a reason to preclude a named chair, an honored spot-on TV news, a special column for the Washington Post, or invitations to the White House and State Department.
No matter how much harm you cause, or how unwise your recommended policies, if you inhabit a certain stratum in the American hierarchy—and have made yourself a celebrity—you can get away with it.
Henry Kissinger played an instrumental role in a surprisingly long list of international tragedies. However, it is worth remembering that in none of these cases, did he act alone. Most of his recommendations were offered in tandem with Presidents Nixon and Ford, and were for the most part in line, with the preferences of people in the “national security” bureaucracies, notably the CIA and military.
Most unusual was Kissinger’s public face during the time he held public office and afterward. In the early Nixon presidency, he lost no opportunity to be in front of a camera, and after the Nixon White House became shadowed by Watergate, Kissinger’s media omnipresence was an administration asset.
In the decades that followed, Kissinger remained prominent, writing thousands of pages of self-justification, offering theories of international relations, and often dispensing unwise advice—notably his vocal support for the Bush administration’s invasion of Iraq in 2003.
The Vietnam War was of course the “original sin.” Although Kissinger readily accepted the Nobel Peace Prize for helping to negotiate the 1973 Paris Peace agreement, he knew it to be fraudulent: once all U.S. military forces departed Vietnam, the fighting would resume, with Hanoi the likely victor.
So long as government records remained classified, it was possible to imagine that Kissinger was the author of “Vietnamization”—Nixon’s policy of removing large increments of U.S. troops, while handing over greater responsibility for the fighting to the South Vietnamese. Yet ironically, this was the one Nixon policy, which Kissinger opposed. His disdain for the South Vietnamese government and its army (ARVN) was ongoing. And by contrast to Nixon, and some other administration colleagues he was undeterred by the sacrifice of American soldiers. His advice was habitually in the service of escalation when it came to Cambodia, Laos, the bombing of North Vietnamese cities, and the more aggressive use of U.S. air power in the South.
This blood-stained history returns us to Harvard’s morally obtuse decision to create a Chair in his honor. Indeed, this perhaps is Kissinger’s most abiding legacy: the failure of accountability. No matter how much harm you cause, or how unwise your recommended policies, if you inhabit a certain stratum in the American hierarchy—and have made yourself a celebrity—you can get away with it.
This personal story exemplifies the more far-reaching phenomenon: the failure of the United States to ever take responsibility for the human suffering it has caused in other nations, or to affect the institutional changes which might prevent this. Here we are once again: giving billions of dollars in weapons to Israel, as its military massacres thousands of defenseless Palestinian women and children. Many young Americans find this incomprehensible.
For all his crimes and carnage, I have at least one reason to thank him for the way he changed my life for the better.
On the occasion of his death at 100, praises and denunciations of Henry Kissinger are being sung and spewed out in record numbers. Let me add to the “praises.” More than anyone else, Henry, along with his boss, Richard Nixon, was responsible for my transformation into an activist.
This transition from being a free-floating intellectual into an activist took place unexpectedly. It happened sometime in April 1970, when Kissinger and Nixon said they were going to end the war in Vietnam by expanding it to Cambodia. I was rushing along Prospect Road—where Princeton’s “eating clubs” or fraternities were located—to attend class when I was attracted to a commotion at a building housing the Institute of Defense Analysis (IDA). A crowd of about 100 surrounded some 15 people who had sat down and linked arms to block the entrance to the Institute, which was known to be doing contract work for the Pentagon. I crossed the street to see things, more out of curiosity than anything else. Then a phalanx of policemen arrived and shoved people aside in order to clear a path to arrest those who were seated on the ground with arms linked.
When the police started to brutally cut the human chain and pull people into the paddy wagon, something in me snapped and I leaped into the empty space opened up by an arrest and found myself linking up with two people that I later learned were Arno Mayer, a distinguished professor of diplomatic history, and Stanley Stein, an equally prominent professor of Latin American history. All I was conscious of as I joined them was: there goes my PhD. At that time, foreign students who were arrested in political events could expect deportation according to Immigration and Naturalization Service rules. In a split second, I had given up my future as a sociologist.
As we were processed after arrest at the Princeton police headquarters, I called Madge, my wife, and told her what had happened but left unmentioned the likelihood that we would be deported. I had made the leap, and, surprisingly, I had no regrets since I felt I had found my place in life: being an activist, an organizer for social change. Like the other participants in the IDA rally, I was judged guilty of trespassing and resisting arrest and given a punishment of community service, that is, cleaning the streets of Princeton on weekends for a whole month.
I waited for the deportation order. And waited. After a month of waiting, I began to realize what was happening. The local government in Princeton was not coordinating its work with the Immigration and Naturalization Service, as I had been led to expect. That would not happen until after 9/11, under the aegis of the newly established Department of Homeland Security, over 30 years later.
My profession as a sociologist, for which I was being trained at Princeton, was given a new lease on life. But I was no longer the same. The arrest had transformed me.
At that point, my priority during my stay at Princeton became stopping the war in Vietnam, and when I was not deep into reading Marx and Marxists and post-Marxists, much of my work was leading or participating in discussion groups on how to organize more and more students into a critical mass on campus against the war.
By the time that Kissinger and Nixon invaded Laos early in 1971 to destroy the traffic on the Ho Chi Minh Trail, I had become part of the informal leadership of the anti-war movement on campus. We called for a boycott of classes, but the coup de main was the takeover and shutting down of what was then called the Woodrow Wilson School, Princeton’s school of public administration that served as a recruiting ground for the Central Intelligence Agency and the trained bureaucrats of foreign governments allied with the United States. I led the successful occupation of the School by hundreds of students, but at the price of my incurring the perpetual enmity of one of its professors. The prominent sociologist of modernization Marion Levy tried his best in the next few years to worm his way onto my dissertation panel with the sole aim of torpedoing the person he regarded as sullying his beloved Woodrow Wilson School.
I went on to do my dissertation, a study of the counterrevolution in Salvador Allende’s Chile from a Marxist perspective, and this was approved in 1975, thanks partly to the successful effort of the department chairman, Marvin Bressler, to keep the vengeful Marion Levy from getting onto my committee.
I went on to do full-time underground work as a cadre of the Communist Party of the Philippines for the next 15 years, incurring more arrests and jailing for civil disobedience in protests in the United States against the dictator Ferdinand Marcos. Later, as an international activist during the George W. Bush era, I again gave full play to my anti-war addiction, participating in mobilizations across the globe, from Baghdad to London to Beirut.
So, here’s to you, you old devil, Henry, for saving me from what would surely have been an unexciting academic life specializing in some godawful field such as Marion Levy’s “modernization theory.”
If anything, Kissinger was but a faithful representative of the criminal U.S. elites whom he served all his life—and who guaranteed him a long life of fame, wealth, and luxury.
Nothing notable distinguished the birth of Heinz Alfred Kissinger on 27 May 1923 to a German Jewish family in Furth, a city in Bavaria, who died on Wednesday at the age of 100.
In 1938, when he was 15, he and his family fled Nazi Germany to New York before Kristallnacht. When the adolescent Heinz became Henry in the US, while retaining his heavy German accent, no one could have predicted that he would order the murder of hundreds of thousands of people as an adult, and become a millionaire as a result.
In 1943, at the age of 20, Kissinger was drafted by the US Army. He became naturalised as a US citizen the same year. He served in the army intelligence division on account of his German fluency and was put in charge of a team in US-occupied Germany in charge of de-Nazification.
After the war, Kissinger attended Harvard, graduating with a BA in political science in 1950 and a PhD in 1954. While still at school in 1952, he worked for the US government’s Psychological Strategy Board, formed by the White House in 1951 to propagandise against communism in support of the US and “democracy”. This was during the US invasion of Korea when US forces killed millions of people.
As US Air Force commander Major-General Emmett O’Donnell put it at a Senate hearing at the time: “Everything is destroyed. There is nothing standing worthy of the name… there were no more targets in Korea [to bomb].” US psychological warfare still refers to US genocidal crimes in the Korean peninsula as the “Korean War”.
Kissinger insisted that the legitimacy of the international order only required the agreement of the great powers. As for morality, he argued that it was irrelevant
At the Harvard International Seminar, which he helped found as a summer programme that convened young future leaders from around the world, Kissinger volunteered to spy on attendees for the FBI and on his Harvard colleagues.
In his academic work, Kissinger insisted that the legitimacy of the international order only required the agreement of the great powers. As for morality, he argued that it was irrelevant. As Thomas Meaney explains in the New Yorker, for Kissinger, “moral indeterminacy was a condition of human freedom”.
In 1952, Kissinger ran an article in the journal Confluence, which he edited, by Ernst von Salomon, a convicted murderer for his participation in the assassination of the foreign minister of the Weimar Republic. German Jewish emigre contributors to the journal, including Hannah Arendt and Reinhold Niebuhr, were not pleased. Kissinger joked with a friend that the article was considered “a symptom of my totalitarian and even Nazi sympathies”.
He was also study director in nuclear weapons and foreign policy at the Council on Foreign Relations in 1955-56, and published his book Nuclear Weapons and Foreign Policy in 1957, arguing that the US should use tactical nuclear weapons on a regular basis in war to ensure victory. Critics would later parody him as “Dr Henry Killinger”, as the cartoon show Venture Bros did in the 2000s.
His right-wing authorised biographer, Niall Ferguson, states that the argument of Kissinger’s book “might very easily be presented as evidence” that he was “the inspiration for Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove”. Kissinger finally received tenure at Harvard with the support of the dean, McGeorge Bundy, despite faculty objections that his book on nuclear weapons was not scholarly.
He did not limit himself to academe, but became a consultant to politicians and presidential candidates, such as Nelson Rockefeller. When Bundy became President John F Kennedy’s national security adviser in 1961, Kissinger joined him as an adviser, a position he would retain under Lyndon Johnson.
In light of Kissinger’s sympathy for the use of tactical nuclear weapons, he was invited to visit Israel in 1962, and again in 1965, most likely by Israel’s architect of the country’s nuclear program, Shimon Peres.
Recent documents reveal that in his report to the US embassy in Tel Aviv in 1965 based on meetings with Israeli officials and scientists, he already believed that Israel was developing nuclear weapons, a program he looked upon with “great understanding, if not sympathy”. This would lead him in 1969, as Nixon’s national security advisor, to broker the understanding of the Nixon administration for Israel’s already developed nuclear weapons program.
Even though Kissinger believed in the futility of the US war in Vietnam, he conspired with Richard Nixon’s electoral campaign in 1968 by leaking information to it from the Paris Peace Talks to prolong the war, lest the Democrats win the elections. Once Nixon was elected, Kissinger came on board as national security adviser in January 1969, a position he occupied until 1975.
Nixon referred to him as “Jew boy”, but it seems right-wing antisemitism never bothered him, as he had been a lifelong conservative Republican. He also served as secretary of state from September 1973 until January 1977.
Determined to defeat the South Vietnamese National Liberation Front and North Vietnam, Kissinger decided to intensify the secret tactical bombing of Cambodia, which had started under Johnson in 1965, into a ruthless campaign of carpet bombing that continued until 1973.
In early March 1969, Kissinger told Nixon: “Hit them!” By 1973, between 150,000 and half a million Cambodians were killed. Kissinger callously described the excessive bombing by saying: “We would rather err on the side of doing too much.”
Kissinger personally supervised the schedules of the bombing runs and the allocation of planes from one area to the other. He reportedly loved playing “bombardier”. When he and Nixon started to bomb North Vietnam again, Kissinger was most excited at the “size of the bomb craters”. In keeping with his support for the use of nuclear weapons, he devised a plan to nuke North Vietnam in 1969 as part of an operation called Duck Hook.
While some in his social circles referred to him as “cuddly Kissinger” and he was described in women’s magazines as “always friendly, particularly with women”, his sweet-tongued persona seemed nowhere in sight when he spoke of those women he hated, such as former Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, whom he called a “bitch” and a "witch", while “the Indians” were “bastards”.
Indeed, Christopher Hitchens asserted, regarding Kissinger’s popularity among the elite, that “Kissinger is not invited and feted because of his exquisite manners or his mordant wit (his manners are in any case rather gross, and his wit consists of a quiver of borrowed and secondhand darts)”, but rather because he exuded raw power. Kissinger was less like Dr Strangelove and more like the fictional character Dr Evil in the Austin Powers films, though with much less charm.
In 1971, Kissinger backed former Pakistani President Yahya Khan’s genocidal campaign against East Pakistan (Bangladesh), and in 1975, he endorsed the Indonesian dictator Suharto’s genocidal war on the people of East Timor, in which a third of the population was killed. Suharto had come to power through a US-supported coup in 1965 that unleashed massacres against up to one million Indonesians as suspected communists. As for the 200,000 dead in East Timor, Kissinger was unmoved: “I think we’ve heard enough about Timor.”
When, in 1970, the socialist Salvador Allende was popularly elected as president of Chile, Kissinger commented: “I don’t see why we need to stand by and watch a country go Communist due to the irresponsibility of its own people.” He pushed Nixon to organise a violent coup against Allende, subjecting the country to fascist rule for the next decade and a half, with thousands killed by the US-supported military junta.
All the imperial murderous policies that Kissinger pursued did not deviate from US foreign policy before or after him
It was also Kissinger who advocated the “tar baby” option of strengthening US ties with the white supremacist settler-colonies in South Africa, Rhodesia, and the Portuguese colonies of Mozambique and Angola.
As for the Middle East, aside from strengthening ties with the Zionist settler-colony of Israel, which became a major US ally during the Nixon and Ford years, Kissinger armed Israel to the teeth during the 1973 war in order “to prevent an Arab victory”. His emergency military help to Israel during the war reversed the early victories of the Egyptian and Syrian armies and ensured that Israel won the war. He also ensured that no US relations could be established with the Palestine Liberation Organisation.
In September 1975, Kissinger signed a “memorandum of understanding” with the Israelis committing the US not to recognise or negotiate with the PLO unless it recognised Israel’s “right to exist” as a racist, Jewish-supremacist state. Former PLO chairman Yasser Arafat would finally do so in 1988 in Geneva, and again in 1993 with the signing of Oslo.
In effect, Kissinger ensured the perpetuation of Israeli colonisation of Palestinian lands for decades to come. He was the architect of former Egyptian President Anwar Sadat’s surrender to Israel and selling out of Palestinian rights at Camp David, and designed the so-called American-sponsored “peace process”, which has defined US policy towards Palestinians and Israel and has since brought about the ongoing calamities in much of the Arab world.
Amid all of Kissinger’s war-mongering around the world, helping fascist dictators come to power and supporting white supremacy in settler-colonies in southern Africa and Palestine, he is also credited with pursuing detente with the Soviet Union and opening diplomatic relations with China. He even received the Nobel Peace Prize for negotiating “peace” with North Vietnam amid his savage bombing of Cambodia.
Kissinger would go on to advise subsequent US presidents and support their wars, including Ronald Reagan and George W Bush. In 1982, he established his own consultancy firm, Kissinger Associates, with a highly secretive client list, to advise US and European imperial corporations and banks, Third World western-supported dictators, and white supremacist settler-colonies. His last reported net worth was around $50m.
Kissinger’s horrifying record, however, has endeared him to many US liberal politicians. The Clintons loved him dearly and attended his birthday parties. Hillary Clinton could not stop praising him for the advice he had given her when she served as secretary of state, insisting that “Kissinger is a friend”.
Former President Barack Obama cited Kissinger as supporting his own views on Iran during the 2008 presidential campaign, but Kissinger rebuffed him. In 2010, Obama’s administration used Kissinger’s murderous policies in Cambodia to justify Obama’s own murderous drone killings of American citizens and non-Americans around the world.
In 2016, Obama’s defence secretary gave the accused war criminal an award “honouring Dr Henry A Kissinger for his years of distinguished public service.” In the last few years, he has been invited by several liberal US universities, including the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Yale and New York University, which marked the 45th anniversary of his receiving the Nobel prize. It was mostly socialists who protested him.
In April 2018, Kissinger was a guest at Trump’s first state dinner at the White House, alongside Trump’s billionaire friends. He would even weigh in on the war in Ukraine, about which he changed his mind several times.
In his book about Kissinger, Hitchens charged him with war crimes, crimes against humanity, and offences “against common or customary or international law, including conspiracy to commit murder, kidnap, and torture”. Hitchens, however, did not seem to realise that Kissinger was no maverick, and each of those crimes should be levelled against the US government more generally.
Indeed, all the imperial murderous policies that Kissinger pursued did not deviate from US foreign policy before or after him. It is that which accounted for his popularity among the American business and intellectual elite, liberals and conservatives alike.
As Meaney put it, blaming one man for the country’s sins serves everyone: “Kissinger’s status as a world-historic figure is assured, and his critics can regard his foreign policy as the exception rather than the rule.”Kissinger’s amoral, genocidal crimes are no more monstrous than the crimes of the US since its establishment. If anything, Kissinger was but a faithful representative of the criminal US elites whom he served all his life—and who guaranteed him a long life of fame, wealth and luxury.
Kissinger died at his home in Connecticut on 29 November 2023, the International Day of Solidarity with the Palestinian People.
The professional love affairs between Kissinger and many U.S. journalists endured from the time he got a grip on power in 1969—and continue even in his death.
For U.S. mass media, Henry Kissinger’s quip that “power is the ultimate aphrodisiac” rang true. Influential reporters and pundits often expressed their love for him. The media establishment kept swooning over one of the worst war criminals in modern history.
After news of his death broke on Wednesday night, prominent coverage echoed the kind that had followed him ever since his years with President Richard Nixon, while they teamed up to oversee vast carnage in Southeast Asia.
The headline over a Washington Post news bulletin summed up: “Henry Kissinger Dies at 100. The Noted Statesman and Scholar Had Unparalleled Power Over Foreign Policy.”
But can a war criminal really be a “noted statesman”?
The New York Times top story began by describing Kissinger as a “scholar-turned-diplomat who engineered the United States’ opening to China, negotiated its exit from Vietnam, and used cunning, ambition and intellect to remake American power relationships with the Soviet Union at the time of the Cold War, sometimes trampling on democratic values to do so.”
And so, the Times spotlighted Kissinger’s role in the U.S. “exit from Vietnam” in 1973 -- but not his role during the previous four years, overseeing merciless slaughter in a war that took several million lives.
"Once you’ve been to Cambodia, you’ll never stop wanting to beat Henry Kissinger to death with your bare hands." —Anthony Bourdain
“Leaving aside those who perished from disease, hunger, or lack of medical care, at least 3.8 million Vietnamese died violent war deaths according to researchers from Harvard Medical School and the University of Washington,” historian and journalist Nick Turse has noted. He added: “The best estimate we have is that 2 million of them were civilians. Using a very conservative extrapolation, this suggests that 5.3 million civilians were wounded during the war, for a total of 7.3 million Vietnamese civilian casualties overall. To such figures might be added an estimated 11.7 million Vietnamese forced from their homes and turned into refugees, up to 4.8 million sprayed with toxic herbicides like Agent Orange, an estimated 800,000 to 1.3 million war orphans, and 1 million war widows.”
All told, during his stint in government, Kissinger supervised policies that took the lives of at least 3 million people.
Henry Kissinger was the crucial U.S. official who supported the September 11, 1973 coup that brought down the democratically elected government of Salvador Allende in Chile—initiating 17 years of dictatorship, with systematic murder and torture (“trampling on democratic values” in Times-speak).
Kissinger remained as secretary of state during the presidency of Gerald Ford. Lethal machinations continued in many places, including East Timor in the Indonesian archipelago. “Under Kissinger’s direction, the U.S. gave a green light to the 1975 Indonesian invasion of East Timor (now Timor-Leste), which ushered in a 24-year brutal occupation by the Suharto dictatorship,” the human rights organization ETAN reported. “The Indonesian occupation of East Timor and West Papua was enabled by U.S. weapons and training. This illegal flow of weapons contravened congressional intent, yet Kissinger bragged about his ability to continue arms shipments to Suharto.
“These weapons were essential to the Indonesian dictator’s consolidation of military control in both East Timor and West Papua, and these occupations cost the lives of hundreds of thousands of Timorese and Papuan civilians. Kissinger’s policy toward West Papua allowed for the U.S.-based multinational corporation Freeport McMoRan to pursue its mining interests in the region, which has resulted in terrible human rights and environmental abuses; Kissinger was rewarded with a seat on the Board of Directors from 1995-2001.”
Now that’s the work of a noted statesman.
The professional love affairs between Kissinger and many American journalists endured from the time he got a grip on the steering wheel of U.S. foreign policy when Nixon became president in early 1969. In Southeast Asia, the agenda went far beyond Vietnam.
Nixon and Kissinger routinely massacred civilians in Laos, as Fred Branfman documented in the 1972 book “Voices From the Plain of Jars.” He told me decades later: “I was shocked to the core of my being as I found myself interviewing Laotian peasants, among the most decent, human and kind people on Earth, who described living underground for years on end, while they saw countless fellow villagers and family members burned alive by napalm, suffocated by 500-pound bombs, and shredded by antipersonnel bombs dropped by my country, the United States.”
Branfman’s discoveries caused him to scrutinize U.S. policy: “I soon learned that a tiny handful of American leaders, a U.S. executive branch led by Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, and Henry Kissinger, had taken it upon themselves—without even informing let alone consulting the U.S. Congress or public—to massively bomb Laos and murder tens of thousands of subsistence-level, innocent Laotian civilians who did not even know where America was, let alone commit an offense against it. The targets of U.S. bombing were almost entirely civilian villages inhabited by peasants, mainly old people and children who could not survive in the forest. The other side’s soldiers moved through the heavily forested regions in Laos and were mostly untouched by the bombing.”
In the corridors of U.S. media power, Henry Kissinger never lost the sheen of brilliance.
The U.S. warfare in Southeast Asia was also devastating to Cambodia. Consider some words from the late Anthony Bourdain, who illuminated much about the world’s foods and cultures. As this century got underway, Bourdain wrote: “Once you’ve been to Cambodia, you’ll never stop wanting to beat Henry Kissinger to death with your bare hands. You will never again be able to open a newspaper and read about that treacherous, prevaricating, murderous scumbag sitting down for a nice chat with Charlie Rose or attending some black-tie affair for a new glossy magazine without choking. Witness what Henry did in Cambodia—the fruits of his genius for statesmanship—and you will never understand why he’s not sitting in the dock at The Hague next to [Slobodan] Milošević.”
Bourdain added that while Kissinger continued to hobnob at A-list parties, “Cambodia, the neutral nation he secretly and illegally bombed, invaded, undermined, and then threw to the dogs, is still trying to raise itself up on its one remaining leg.”
But back in the corridors of U.S. media power, Henry Kissinger never lost the sheen of brilliance.
Among the swooning journalists was ABC’s Ted Koppel, who informed viewers of the Nightline program in 1992: “If you want a clear foreign-policy vision, someone who will take you beyond the conventional wisdom of the moment, it’s hard to do any better than Henry Kissinger.” As one of the most influential broadcast journalists of the era, Koppel was not content to only declare himself “proud to be a friend of Henry Kissinger.” The renowned newsman lauded his pal as “certainly one of the two or three great secretaries of state of our century.”"A true tally will probably never be known of everyone who died so Kissinger could be national security adviser," wrote journalist Spencer Ackerman.
Henry Kissinger, the former diplomat whose efforts to prolong and expand the U.S. war on Southeast Asia and undermine democracy in Latin America and elsewhere took millions of lives, died Wednesday at 100 years old.
Treated like royalty in elite U.S. political circles until his death at his home in Connecticut, Kissinger—who served as secretary of state and national security adviser under Nixon and Ford—never faced justice for the secretive carpet bombing of Cambodia that he helped orchestrate, the overthrow of Chile's democratically elected president, or the murderous "dirty war" in Argentina that killed tens of thousands.
The scope of his crimes was so vast that he had to watch where he traveled, lest he be detained to face questioning for his role in assassinations, massacres, and violent military coups whose reverberations are still felt in the present.
"The covert justifications for illegally bombing Cambodia became the framework for the justifications of drone strikes and forever war. It's a perfect expression of American militarism's unbroken circle," historian Greg Grandin, author of "Kissinger's Shadow," told The Intercept earlier this year. Grandin has estimated that Kissinger was responsible for at least 3 million deaths.
Observers of Kissinger's impact have said it's difficult to convey the true extent of the destruction he inflicted across the globe.
In his obituary of Kissinger for Rolling Stone, journalist Spencer Ackerman wrote that "measuring purely by confirmed kills, the worst mass murderer ever executed by the United States was the white-supremacist terrorist Timothy McVeigh."
"McVeigh, who in his own psychotic way thought he was saving America, never remotely killed on the scale of Kissinger, the most revered American grand strategist of the second half of the 20th century," Ackerman continued. "Every single person who died in Vietnam between autumn 1968 and the Fall of Saigon—and all who died in Laos and Cambodia, where Nixon and Kissinger secretly expanded the war within months of taking office, as well as all who died in the aftermath, like the Cambodian genocide their destabilization set into motion—died because of Henry Kissinger."
"We will never know what might have been, the question Kissinger's apologists, and those in the U.S. foreign policy elite who imagine themselves standing in Kissinger's shoes, insist upon when explaining away his crimes," he added. "We can only know what actually happened. What actually happened was that Kissinger materially sabotaged the only chance for an end to the war in 1968 as a hedged bet to ensure he would achieve power in Nixon's administration or Humphrey's. A true tally will probably never be known of everyone who died so Kissinger could be national security adviser."
There was no intention to attack friendly soldiers and their families; however, this erroneous air strike was occurring in a context in which U.S. bombers had been striking Cambodia secretly and illegally for five years.
As Americans flock to Oppenheimer, one salutary result is a reawakened public awareness of the perils of nuclear weapons, and revived attention to the U.S. decision to bomb Hiroshima (August 6, 1945) and Nagasaki (August 9, 1945). Less apparent is the extraordinary suffering of Japanese civilians and the appalling failure of the Truman administration to consider policy alternatives.
This inattention mirrors the public’s perception at the time, a pattern which has persisted over decades, as the U.S. government strikes countries from the air.
Long forgotten, and largely unnoticed in America, was the accidental bombing on August 6, 1973, by American B-52s of the center of Neak Luong, a ferry and garrison town inside Cambodia. It had fallen most heavily near barracks, where pro-government soldiers resided with their wives and children, damaging the local hospital and demolishing large sections of the town.
“Let the Americans see me,” mourned the anguished Cambodian soldier.
New York Times correspondent Sydney Schanberg encountered the victims as they were carried to the Preah Ket Mealea hospital in Phnom Penh. As he described it, “there were scenes of blood and weeping. Infants shattered by shrapnel, lay unconscious on stretchers.” Whole families had been affected. Walking along the riverbank, he observed a Cambodian soldier sobbing uncontrollably: “All my family is dead. .All my family is dead…Take my picture! Let the Americans see me.”
At the American Embassy, Colonel David Opfer was assuring the press that “the destruction was minimal,” although more than 200 people had died. As was routinely the case, whether in South Vietnam, Laos, or Cambodia, government officials chose to deny or downplay the destruction.
Viewed in isolation, Neak Luong was a genuine accident. There was no intention to attack friendly soldiers and their families. However, this erroneous air strike was occurring in a context in which U.S. bombers had been striking Cambodia secretly and illegally for the past five years. Until that summer, the Nixon Administration had successfully concealed from Congress and the public their 3,600 bombing raids between March of 1969 and May of 1970.
Importantly, the attack on Neak Luong had occurred seven months after the January 1973 Paris Peace Accord had been signed, ostensibly ending U.S. participation in the Vietnam War. Although a specific Cambodian cease-fire was not included, National Security Advisor Henry Kissinger had assured colleagues that based on understandings with Hanoi, fighting there would cease. Instead, the country was consumed by its own civil war between the Lon Nol government and the rapidly growing Khmer Rouge. As fighting continued, the United States kept bombing in support of the regime. The result was a six-month period more hellish than its predecessor, as much of the countryside became a virtual “free-fire zone,” for all participants.
This U.S. activity was of questionable legality, since under the Cooper-Church Amendment, the U.S. military was prohibited from bombing in support of the Cambodian government, except in response to North Vietnamese aggressor. In April 1973, the Senate Foreign Relations Committee sent two veteran observers, James Lowenstein and Richard Moose, on a fact-finding trip to Southeast Asia. Although assured by the Embassy and Air Force personnel that U.S. air strikes were to halt “the movement of North Vietnamese personnel, tanks, artillery, and supplies into South Vietnam,” they soon discovered the U.S. Embassy was coordinating the bombings, with an estimated 80% in support of Lon Nol’s regime.
Remarkably some American airmen responsible for the bombing were expressing their distress in letters to elected officials. These messages were so anguished, they were placed in the Congressional Record by Senator William Fulbright and given to The New York Times by Senator Edward Kennedy. According to one, “I am an AC-130 gunship navigator fighting the war in Cambodia on a day-to-day basis… What I see is an absurd effort by my Commander in Chief to preserve an unpopular, corrupt, dictatorial government at any expense. We have once again become involved in a civil conflict and because of our involvement have escalated the death and destruction on a massive scale.”
The careless killing of civilians did not end with the wars in Southeast Asia. One unfortunate lesson from that era was that a reliance on air power was politically safer than a large, extended deployment of American soldiers. Hence the “war on terrorism” waged in Afghanistan, Iraq, and elsewhere has involved tens of thousands of airstrikes whether by U.S. bombers or drones. Sadly, the tragic coda to the U.S. presence in Afghanistan was a hasty drone attack on August 29, 2021, that killed an innocent aid worker and seven children.
“Let the Americans see me,” mourned the anguished Cambodian soldier. While the case of Neak Luong was carefully reported, as was the misdirected drone attack in Kabul, these were the exceptions. Largely unaware of the existence or consequences of these air wars, the public has had little appetite or interest in policy alternatives. This remains a daunting challenge for the peace movement: how to make visible the ongoing practice of striking alleged enemies, with no accountability.
How about a summons to appear at the International Criminal Court to answer for the blood of millions staining his hands?
Henry Alfred Kissinger turned 100 on May 27 of this year. Once a teenage refugee from Nazi Germany, for many decades an adviser to presidents, and an avatar of American realpolitik, he’s managed to reach the century mark while still evidently retaining all his marbles. That those marbles remain hard and cold is no surprise.
A couple of months after that 100th birthday, he traveled to China, as he had first done secretly in 1971 when he was still President Richard Nixon’s national security adviser. There—in contrast to the tepid reception recently given to U.S. officials like Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen and Special Presidential Envoy for Climate John Kerry—Kissinger was welcomed with full honors by Chinese President Xi Jinping and other dignitaries.
“That ‘lovefest,’” as Daniel Drezner of the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy wrote at Politico, “served the interests of both parties.” For China, it was a signal that the United States would be better off pursuing the warm-embrace policy initiated so long ago by Nixon at Kissinger’s behest, rather than the cold shoulder more recent administrations have offered. For Kissinger, as Drezner put it, “the visit represents an opportunity to do what he has been trying to do ever since he left public office: maintain his relevancy and influence.”
It’s fair to say that Kissinger either initiated or at least supported just about every one of the ugly tactics the U.S. military used in its ultimately losing war in Vietnam.
Even as a centenarian, his “relevancy” remains intact, and his influence, I’d argue, as malevolent as ever.
It’s hard for powerful political actors to give up the stage once their performances are over. Many crave an encore even as their audience begins to gaze at newer stars. Sometimes regaining relevance and influence is only possible after a political memory wipe, in which echoes of their terrible actions and even crimes, domestic or international, fade into silence.
This was certainly the case for Richard Nixon who, after resigning in disgrace to avoid impeachment in 1974, worked hard for decades to once again be seen as a wise man of international relations. He published his memoirs (for a cool $2 million), while raking in another $600,000 for interviews with David Frost (during which he infamously said that “when the president does it, that means it is not illegal”). His diligence was rewarded in 1986 with a Newsweek cover story headlined, “He’s Back: The Rehabilitation of Richard Nixon.”
Of course, for the mainstream media (and the House of Representatives debating his possible impeachment in 1974), Nixon’s high crimes and misdemeanors involved just the infamous Watergate break-in at Democratic National Committee headquarters and his subsequent attempts to cover it up. Among members of the House, only 12, led by the Jesuit priest Robert Drinan, had the courage to suggest that Nixon be charged with the crime that led directly to the death of an estimated 150,000 civilians: the secret and illegal bombing of Cambodia during the Vietnam war.
Unlike the president he served as national security adviser and secretary of state, and some of those for whom he acted as an informal counselor (Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush), Kissinger’s reputation as a brilliant statesman never required rehabilitation.
More recently, we’ve seen the rehabilitation of George W. Bush, under whose administration the United States committed repeated war crimes. Those included the launching of an illegal war against Iraq under the pretext of eliminating that country’s non-existent weapons of mass destruction, attempting to legalize torture and unlawful detentions, and causing the death of almost half a million civilians. No matter. All it took for the mainstream media to welcome him back into the fold of “responsible” Republicans was to spend some years painting portraits of American military veterans and taking an oblique swipe or two at then-President Donald Trump.
Unlike the president he served as national security adviser and secretary of state, and some of those for whom he acted as an informal counselor (Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush), Kissinger’s reputation as a brilliant statesman never required rehabilitation. Having provided advice—formal or otherwise—to every president from Dwight D. Eisenhower to Donald Trump (though not, apparently, Joe Biden), he put his imprint on the foreign policies of both major parties. And in all those years, no “serious” American news outfit ever saw fit to remind the world of his long history of bloody crimes. Indeed, as his 100th birthday approached, he was greeted with fawning interviews by, for example, PBS NewsHour anchor Judy Woodruff.
His crimes did come up in the mainstream, only to be dismissed as evidence of his career’s “broad scope.” CNN ran a piece by David Andelman, a former New York Times foreign correspondent and one-time student of Kissinger’s at Harvard. He described watching “in wonder” as demonstrators gathered outside New York City’s 92nd Street YMCA to protest a 2011 talk by the great man himself. How, he asked himself, could they refer to Kissinger as a “renowned war criminal”? A few years later, Andelman added, he found himself wondering again, as a similar set of protesters at the same venue decried Kissinger’s “history concerning Timor-Leste (East Timor), West Papua, Vietnam, Cambodia, Chile, Cyprus, Bangladesh, Angola, and elsewhere.”
The “events they were protesting were decades in the past,” he observed, having happened at a time when most of the protestors “were only barely alive.” In effect, like so many others who seek to exonerate old war criminals, Andelman was implying that the crimes of the past hold no meaning, except perhaps in testifying “to the broad scope of people, places, and events that [Kissinger] has influenced in the course of a remarkable career.” (“Influenced” serves here as a remarkable euphemism for “devastated” or simply “killed.”)
The Vietnam War might well have ended in 1968, rather than dragging on until 1975, had it not been for Henry Kissinger.
Fortunately, other institutions have not been so deferential. In preparation for Kissinger’s 100th, the National Security Archive, a center of investigative journalism, assembled a dossier of some of its most important holdings on his legacy. They provide some insight into the places named by those protestors.
If nothing else, Kissinger’s approach to international politics has been consistent for more than half a century. Only actions advancing the military and imperial might of the United States were to be pursued. To be avoided were those actions that might diminish its power in any way or—in the Cold War era—enhance the power of its great adversary, the Soviet Union. Under such a rubric, any indigenous current favoring independence—whether political or economic—or seeking more democratic governance elsewhere on Earth came to represent a threat to this country. Such movements and their adherents were to be eradicated—covertly, if possible; overtly, if necessary.
Richard Nixon’s presidency was, of course, the period of Kissinger’s greatest influence. Between 1969 and 1974, Kissinger served as the architect of U.S. actions in key locales globally. Here are just a few of them:
Papua, East Timor, and Indonesia: In 1969, in an effort to keep Indonesia fully in the American Cold War camp, Kissinger put his imprimatur on a fake plebiscite in Papua, which had been seeking independence from Indonesia. He chose to be there in person during an “election” in which Indonesia counted only the ballots of 1,100 hand-picked “representatives” of the Papuan population. Unsurprisingly, they voted unanimously to remain part of Indonesia.
Why did the United States care about the fate of half of a then strategically unimportant island in the South China Sea? Because holding onto the loyalty of Indonesia’s autocratic anticommunist ruler Suharto was considered crucial to Washington’s Cold War foreign policy in Asia. Suharto himself had come to power on a wave of mass extermination, during which between 500,000 and 1.2 million supposed communists and their “sympathizers” were slaughtered.
In 1975, Kissinger also greenlighted Indonesia’s invasion of East Timor, during which hundreds of thousands died. In contravention of U.S. law, President Gerald Ford’s administration (in which Kissinger continued to serve as national security adviser and secretary of state after Nixon’s resignation) provided the Indonesian military with weapons and training. Kissinger waved off any legal concerns with a favorite aphorism: “The illegal we do immediately; the unconstitutional takes a little longer.”
For all his supposedly “brilliant statesmanship,” Kissinger proved incapable of imagining any event as having a significant local or regional meaning.
Southeast Asia: Beginning in 1969, Kissinger was also the architect of Richard Nixon’s secret bombing campaign in Cambodia, an attempt to interdict the flow of supplies from North Vietnam to the revolutionary Viet Cong in South Vietnam. He believed it would force the North Vietnamese to the bargaining table. In this, the great statesman was sadly mistaken. It’s fair to say, in fact, that Kissinger either initiated or at least supported just about every one of the ugly tactics the U.S. military used in its ultimately losing war in Vietnam, from the carpet bombing of North Vietnam to the widespread use of napalm and the carcinogenic herbicide Agent Orange to the CIA’s Phoenix Program, which led to the torturing or killing of more than 20,000 people.
The Vietnam War might well have ended in 1968, rather than dragging on until 1975, had it not been for Henry Kissinger. He was acting as a conduit to North Vietnam for the administration of President Lyndon Johnson, which was working on a peace deal it hoped to announce before the 1968 presidential election. Believing Republican candidate Richard Nixon would be more likely to advance his version of U.S. strategic interests in Vietnam than Democratic candidate and Vice President Hubert Humphrey, Kissinger passed information about those negotiations with the North Vietnamese on to the Nixon campaign. Although Nixon had no clout in Hanoi, he had a channel to U.S. ally and South Vietnamese President Nguyen Van Thieu and convinced him to pull out of the peace talks shortly before the election. Thanks to Kissinger, the war would follow its cruel course for another seven years of death and destruction.
Pakistan and Bangladesh: In 1971, in a famous “tilt” towards Pakistan, Kissinger gave tacit support to that country’s military dictator General Agha Muhammad Yahya Khan. In response to a surprise victory by an opposition party in Pakistan’s first democratic election, Yahya then loosed his military on the people of East Pakistan, that party’s geographical base. Three million people died in the ensuing genocidal conflict that eventually led to the creation of the state of Bangladesh. In addition, as many as 10 million members of Bengali ethnic groups fled to India, inflaming tensions between Pakistan and India, which eventually erupted in war. Although the U.S. Congress had forbidden military support for either nation, Kissinger arranged for an American nuclear-powered aircraft carrier to travel to the Bay of Bengal and provide war materiel to Pakistan. (By then, contempt for congressional restrictions had become a habit for him.)
But why the tilt toward Pakistan? Because that country was helping Kissinger create his all-important opening to China and because he also viewed India as a “Soviet stooge.”
For all his supposedly “brilliant statesmanship,” Kissinger proved incapable of imagining any event as having a significant local or regional meaning. Only the actions or interests of the great powers could adequately explain events anywhere in the world.
Latin America: There was a time when September 11 called to mind not the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon but the violent 1973 overthrow of Salvador Allende, Chile’s elected socialist president. That coup, which made General Augusto Pinochet the country’s dictator, was the culmination of a multi-year U.S. campaign of economic and political sabotage, orchestrated by Henry Kissinger.
Once again, a genuinely indigenous economic reform movement was (mis)interpreted as evidence of growing Soviet strength in South America. Within the first few days of the coup, 40,000 people would be imprisoned at the National Stadium in the capital, Santiago. Many of them would be tortured and murdered in the first stages of what became a regime characterized for decades by institutionalized torture.
Similarly, Kissinger and the presidents he advised supported Argentina’s “Dirty War” against dissidents and the larger Operation Condor, in which the CIA coordinated coups d’état, repression, torture, and the deaths of tens of thousands of socialists, students, and other activists across Latin America.
So, what should we give a 100-year-old presidential adviser for his birthday? How about a summons to appear at the International Criminal Court to answer for the blood of millions staining his hands?
If you google images for “realpolitik,” the first thing you’ll see is a drawing of Henry Kissinger holding forth to a rapt Richard Nixon. As a political thinker who prides himself on never having been swayed by passion, Kissinger would seem the perfect exemplar of a realpolitik worldview.
He eschews the term, however, probably because, given his background, he recognizes its roots in the19th century German liberal tradition, where it served as a reminder not to be blinded by ideology or aspirational belief when taking in a political situation. Philosophically, realpolitik was a belief that a dispassionate examination of any situation, uninflected by ideology, was the most effective way to grasp the array of forces present in a particular historical moment.
Realpolitik has, however, come to mean something quite different in the United States, being associated not with “what is” (an epistemological stance) but with “what ought to be”—an ethical stance, one that privileges only this country’s imperial advantage. In the realpolitik world of Henry Kissinger, actions are good only when they sustain and advance American strategic power globally. Any concern for the well-being of human beings, or for the law and the Constitution, not to mention democratic values globally, is, by definition, illegitimate if not, in fact, a moral failing.
The idea that the only “realistic” choices for Washington’s leaders require privileging American global power over every other consideration has led this country to its current desperate state.
That is the realpolitik of Henry Alfred Kissinger, an ethical system that rejects ethics as unreal. It should not surprise anyone that such a worldview would engender in a man with his level of influence a history of crimes against law and humanity.
In fact, however, Kissinger’s brand of realpolitik is itself delusional. The idea that the only “realistic” choices for Washington’s leaders require privileging American global power over every other consideration has led this country to its current desperate state—a dying empire whose citizens live in ever-increasing insecurity. In fact, choosing America first (as Donald Trump would put it) is not the only choice, but one delusional option among many. Perhaps there is still time, before the planet burns us all to death, to make other, more realistic choices.
Kissinger took a passionate, personal interest in promoting despotic governments throughout the globe.
On May 27, 2023, former U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger will have lived one hundred years. For half of those years, he’s haunted my life.
On a Tuesday lunchtime in 1979, my third day as the New York Times’s op-ed art director, Sydney Schanberg and I had just settled down on the burgundy benches of Sardi’s, the theater-district restaurant behind the Times, when Syd told me, “I don’t believe in capital punishment, but I’d go anywhere to see Kissinger hanged.”
“That’s nervy of you to say,” I told Syd, “about a Nobel Peace Prize laureate.”
Syd had worn jeans when he reported from foreign wars. Now, as the metro editor at the Times, he wore a black turtleneck, hounds-tooth sport jacket, and smartly cropped beard. I, a California naïf newly arrived in Manhattan, wore loose hippie hair and sandals.
Syd’s blunt disclosure was triggered by the freshly drawn Kissinger portrait I’d pulled out of my bag. As a drawing, it was a far cry from the celebrity caricatures that surrounded us on Sardi’s walls, and in my effort to get it into the paper, I’d put up a fight—a fight I lost an hour ago when my editor killed the image. Now that it wouldn’t be published, I had to show it to Syd.
It was Syd who reported Pulitzer-winning dispatches on the genocide that followed the United States’ carpet bombing of non-combatant Cambodia. The brutal onslaught—an early use of B-52 Stratofortress bombers—that killed hundreds of thousands of Cambodian civilians was the brainchild of Henry Kissinger.
Richard Nixon’s chief of staff, H. R. Haldeman, recorded the unprovoked attack in the White House log, abbreviating Kissinger as “K” and President Nixon as “P.” Once the first bombs fell, Haldeman wrote, “Historic day. K’s ‘Operation Breakfast’ finally came off at 2:00 p.m. our time. K really excited, as is P.” The next day he wrote, “K’s ‘Operation Breakfast’ a great success. He came beaming in with the report, very productive.”
To hide the top-secret assault from Congress and the American people, Kissinger fabricated an elaborate, dual reporting system of false flight patterns. His scheme informed pilots that their target was Vietnam but diverted forty-eight of their planes across the border, where they dropped 2,400 tons of bombs on neutral Cambodia. When a leak to the Times exposed the truth about the raids—Kissinger codenamed them “Operation Menu” and continued the barrage with “Lunch,” “Snack,” “Dinner,” “Supper,” and “Dessert”—my head throbbed with images of bleeding, fleeing, falling Cambodians.
While he was growing up in Germany, Kissinger was viciously beaten by Hitler Youth gangs. How, I marveled, could he then rejoice in the slaughtering of innocents? How could he name lethal explosives after nourishment?
I had commissioned the Kissinger portrait to illustrate a doozy of an op-ed by William Pfaff, whom Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. would call “Walter Lippmann’s authentic heir.” Pfaff’s first sentence landed a knockout punch: “Kissinger was ultimately a failure as Secretary of State.” The scathing attack continued: “Mr. Kissinger left Washington with the United States weakened. There were curiously few successes. Yet Kissinger … is taken as a success. It is a striking case of style over substance.”
When I contemplated how to illustrate Pfaff’s harsh text, the unsparing work of artist David Levine came to mind. Levine, whose caustic caricatures appeared in The New York Review of Books, jumped at the chance to draw the illustration and delivered a masterpiece. Tattooed on the über-diplomat’s back are the atrocities that studded his career. Shoulder hairs become Arabic script; “RICHARD” shares billing with “MOTHER” on the forearms; and the Shah of Iran, a holstered gun, and a Chinese dragon adorn the cheeks. Between Kissinger’s bent arms, Vietnam darkens, and bombs fall on Cambodia. It was those bombs that most shook me.
Since the image shamed America’s premier diplomat on a par with Pfaff’s prose, I felt sure it would impress my new boss, the legendary Charlotte Curtis. I grabbed the illustration, swept out of my office and up a fake marble staircase, and stood waiting at Charlotte’s door for her nod.
A petite person with a bouffant do, Charlotte’s winsome wardrobe included lace collars and petticoats. She flew to Ohio every weekend to see her surgeon husband, whom she called “Dr. Hunt.” Yet Charlotte’s low, raspy voice startled, and her traditional femininity betrayed a searing mind.
In her acclaimed reporting days, Charlotte filed merciless social commentary. Now, as op-ed editor and the first woman on the Times’s modest masthead, her young deputy handled the day-to-day while she put Brzezinski on hold to answer Mandela’s call and Halston waited in the lobby to take her to lunch. Yet Charlotte had sole authority to sanction illustrations.
“That’s awful!” she sneered when I presented the Kissinger drawing.
“But look at Pfaff’s text!” I countered.
Charlotte wrinkled her nose, clenched tight her normally fluttering eyelids, and spun around in her chair.
“We could crop it mid-dragon,” I offered.
“That’s not it,” she snapped. “It’s the excessive midsection flesh.”
Since when is Kissinger slim? “This picture will resonate with millions of readers,” I insisted.
Charlotte’s manicured hands lit another Virginia Slim. Gazing into the distance, she inhaled. As she slowly exhaled, I bit my lip. Then Charlotte announced, with withering finality, “It’s a cheap shot.”
For me, the illustration was the opposite of cheap. When Kissinger and Nixon were escalating things in Vietnam, I stood on the Berkeley railroad tracks waving a white flag in hopes of halting the troop trains that were taking my peers to fight an unwinnable war. I’d become friends with Ron Kovic, who entered the Marines as a gung-ho volunteer and left a paralyzed peacenik, eventually telling the story in his 1976 autobiography Born on the Fourth of July. To me, Levine’s Kissinger image seemed so right: the black-inked back of a man who turned that back on his crimes. But by assuming the image would fly, I’d miscalculated. Provocative visuals were the op-ed department’s trademark, yet I’d gone too far. It was my third day, and I’d already screwed up.
When the Times inaugurated its Op-Ed section in 1970—the term is merely printer’s jargon for the page opposite the editorial page—I was in California. Having recently returned from a Fulbright year in Munich (ninety minutes by train from Kissinger’s birthplace), I shared the Oakland block I lived on with members of the Black Panthers and worked my first publishing job as Ramparts magazine’s art director. Ramparts, recalled editor Peter Collier in Time magazine, was “the only New Left periodical that could penetrate middle-class households.” It was a magazine “printed on heavy, glossy stock with classy graphics that looked good on a Danish Modern coffee table.”
The cover stories I designed for Ramparts included the burning of the Bank of America, the subversive silkscreens of Cuban artists, and the reportage of Christopher Hitchens, which recorded evidence of “Kissinger’s crimes against humanity.” Some of the atrocities Hitchens detailed were criminal; some were simply immoral. Many were committed in concert with America’s ruthless client regimes.
Kissinger took a passionate, personal interest in promoting despotic governments throughout the globe. “I’ve always acted alone,” he told journalist Oriana Fallaci. “Americans like the cowboy who leads the wagon train . . . the cowboy who rides all alone into the town . . . . This amazing, romantic character suits me precisely because to be alone has always been part of my style or, if you like, my technique.”
In South Asia, Kissinger blessed Pakistan’s massacre in Bangladesh and greenlit Indonesia’s slaughter of the East Timorese. Most disastrously, Kissinger instituted a policy of unconditional support for the Shah of Iran. We’re still paying the price of his all-out embrace of Iran, which laid the groundwork for crisis in the Middle East. The Shah told Kissinger, “We are looking for a navy. We have a large shopping list.” To the delight of America’s military and arms merchants, Kissinger enabled Iran to possess the largest navy in the Persian Gulf, the largest air force in Western Asia, and the fifth largest army in the world.
When Iran entered a border dispute with Iraq’s Saddam Hussein, Kissinger, as a favor to the Shah, recruited the Kurds to fight the Iraqis. Once the dispute was resolved, Iraq attacked the Kurds, killing thousands, as they tried to flee. The devastated Kurdish leader, beseeching the United States to honor his loyalty, sent his plea directly to Kissinger: “We feel, Your Excellency, that the United States has a moral and political responsibility towards our people.” Instead of honoring the Kurds’ faithful execution of his orders, Kissinger betrayed them. Cutting off all aid, he decreed, “Covert action should not be confused with missionary work.”
When the Chilean people, in a democratic election, seemed certain to vote physician and socialist Salvador Allende their president, Kissinger became unglued. He demanded that Nixon authorize $10 million to stop Allende from coming to power. When Allende was elected, a diabolical Kissinger plot to destroy Chile’s fledgling democracy became covert U.S. policy. Enlisting the CIA, Kissinger orchestrated a siege of Chile’s presidential palace where Allende was sitting—an attack that set the palace aflame and left Allende dead. Bloodthirsty Augusto Pinochet became dictator of Chile, and in June 1976, at the height of the murderous repression that ensued, Kissinger told him, “We are sympathetic to what you are trying to do here.”
During Argentina’s “Dirty War,” Kissinger eagerly backed the brutal military junta that was fighting against its own people. The junta targeted those citizens who were working to restore democracy, yet they “disappeared” thousands of random, apolitical Argentines, as well. In his zeal to support Argentina’s tyrannical regime, Kissinger flew to Buenos Aires to congratulate the dictatorship on “an outstanding job in wiping out terrorist forces.”
Disappearing is worse than dying. The military tortured their victims, loaded them onto planes, and, with “death flights,” tossed them alive into the sea. Then the military destroyed all records of their existence. Without a bone or document to prove they once lived, the junta could claim they never did.
On one morning during the war, my Argentine husband, Horacio, was walking near his home when seven soldiers assaulted him and dragged him onto a truck. Though he had since grown a beard, the only ID Horacio carried showed him clean shaven. The discrepancy would have sealed his fate were it not for a friend who chanced by. From the truck’s flatbed, my husband, surrounded by dozens of the soon-to-be-disappeared, called out to his friend, “Roberto, quick! Run to my house and ask my mother for my journalist ID. The one with a beard.”
Heinz Alfred Kissinger, an introverted, fifteen-year-old refugee when he arrived in America, transformed himself into a suave player. He got people to refer to him as “Doctor Kissinger,” and his enormous charm captivated politicians, celebrities—and especially journalists. Wooing the Washington press corps with his wit, he would utter in a trenchant Teutonic accent tidbits like, “The illegal we do immediately, the unconstitutional takes a little longer.”
Journalist Barbara Walters once asked Henry’s brother, Walter, why he, Walter, lacked an accent. “Because I’m the Kissinger who listens,” Walter replied. Hearing Kissinger’s voice brings back my unknowable Viennese father. Both he and Kissinger were young Jewish émigrés who came to America, earned PhDs, and despite never losing their pronounced German accents, taught in universities. My father didn’t listen either.
The women on Kissinger’s arm during his Don Juan bachelor decade included Jill St. John, Candice Bergen, Shirley MacLaine, and Diane Sawyer. He frequently dated Liv Ullman, who called Kissinger “the most interesting man I have ever met.” Had Kissinger’s boss possessed his high-flying emissary’s charm, he might have survived Watergate. But the contrast between Kissinger and Nixon couldn’t have been starker. Before his wife Pat would date him, square, self-conscious Dick drove her to dates with other men.
I experienced Nixon’s social awkwardness up close. In August 1982, about a decade after he “resigned,” I illustrated an op-ed essay he wrote for the Times on deténte. On the day it was published, a phone call stunned me: it was Nixon. “I admire your drawing in today’s paper,” he said. “I’d like to have the original.” Intrigued, I agreed to bring him the drawing. The next morning I found myself suddenly alone with Nixon in a vast federal office, except for a secretary who sat silently in a distant corner. I searched for something positive to say.
“Thank you for opening China,” I blurted. “They’ve invited me on a cultural tour.”
“I’m going to China next week,” Nixon said.
“Then why don’t I go with you!” I joked.
Nixon curled his shoulders to his ears and stared at the floor for the longest time. Finally, he raised his head and mumbled, “You see, Jerelle, uh, uh … Pat’s not going.”
Kissinger would haunt me again in 2014. I was reading the 2001 book A Cook’s Tour: Global Adventures in Extreme Cuisines, and Anthony Bourdain’s words had hit me hard: “Once you’ve been to Cambodia, you’ll never stop wanting to beat Henry Kissinger to death with your bare hands . . . and you will never understand why he’s not sitting in the dock at The Hague next to Milosevic.”
During the same 2014 week I read this passage, Kissinger spoke at a 100-year anniversary commemoration of Archduke Franz Ferdinand’s assassination, the catalyst for World War I. I arrived at the remembrance to see Kissinger in a gray suit among four onstage panelists. Behind them was a colossal map of 1914 Europe painted in primary colors. France and Russia were yellow, the seas blue, and Austria-Hungary and the German Empire were red.
Upon the event’s conclusion, fellow former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright and the other panelists joined the audience at an elaborate buffet. Kissinger, ever the cowboy who rides alone into town, started toward the back exit. A throng of reporters and photographers rushed toward him. I did too. When he was about to duck out, I jumped onto the stage and addressed him in German. Hearing his native tongue, Kissinger swiveled to face me. Wikipedia lists Kissinger’s height as 5’8”, but at 5’4” I felt taller, which emboldened me.
Looking into the eyes of a war criminal who has not once faced the bar of justice, I asked, “Do you feel guilty?”
Kissinger glowered at my brazen effrontery.
Quickly, I pulled a book from my bag and offered it to him. Kissinger ignored the book, elbowed through the stage’s bulky black curtains, and vanished. Alas, he never saw his crime-emblazoned back, which finally found publication on the cover of All the Art That’s Fit to Print (And Some That Wasn’t): Inside The New York Times Op-Ed Page. But now’s the perfect moment to send it to him. It’ll make a great centennial gift.
Happy hundredth birthday, Henry!