RN

by Richard Nixon

  On June 5, 1970, I called a meeting with Hoover, Helms of the CIA, Lieutenant General D. V. Bennett of the Defense Intelligence Agency, and Vice Admiral Noel Gayler, Director of the National Security Agency. Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Bob Finch, and Tom Huston were also present. Huston was a young lawyer and former Defense Intelligence Agency aide whose assignments on the White House staff included the problem of violence from radicals. He was seriously concerned about the inadequacies of the U.S. intelligence apparatus, both in the face of domestic violence and in comparison to the intelligence capabilities of Communist-bloc countries.

  I told the group that I wanted to know what the problems were in intelligence-gathering and what had to be done to solve them. I wanted their report submitted to me jointly, and I asked Hoover to act as chairman for this purpose.

  The committee formed a study group to evaluate the situation and draw up alternatives. A report was drafted that was approved by the heads of the CIA, DIA, and NSA. Then it went to Hoover, who added, as footnotes to the body of the document, his personal objections to several of the sections.

  The report was completed on June 25, 1970. It was officially called “Special Report Interagency Committee on Intelligence (Ad Hoc).”

  The report opened with a brief analysis of the problems confronting us, ranging from the Black Panthers and the Weathermen to Communist infiltrators. It differentiated radical terrorist groups from those that merely indulged in incendiary rhetoric. It gave a summary of the available intelligence techniques, the current restrictions on them, and the advantages and disadvantages of lifting those restrictions.

  There was only one technique which Hoover had no objection to seeing expanded—the National Security Agency’s coverage of overseas telephone and telegraph communications. He had strong objections to the four central possibilities discussed: resumption of covert mail-opening, resumption of black bag jobs, increased electronic surveillance, and an increase in campus—therefore young—informants.

  In a separate memo recommending the two most controversial methods, covert mail-opening and surreptitious entry, Huston indicated that the former would be primarily targeted at foreign intelligence and cases of suspected espionage, and the latter would be resumed against foreign targets when they might provide information that could break a code, and possibly against other “urgent and high priority internal security targets,” namely, “the Weathermen and Black Panthers.”

  The final technique discussed in the plan was military intelligence. Hoover objected to an increase in military undercover agents. The group also requested budget increases for each agency—which Hoover approved—and recommended the creation of an intelligence coordinating committee which would ensure that coordination existed between the disparate intelligence-gathering activities of the government. Hoover objected to this.

  When I learned of Hoover’s dissent from the committee’s otherwise unanimous approval of the report, I felt that it was primarily a case of his inability to overcome his natural resistance to cooperating with the CIA or the other intelligence agencies. Beyond that, I thought he was afraid that if he agreed to cooperate, and was on record as having done so, the other agencies might use this to undercut him through leaks.

  On July 14, following Huston’s recommendations, I turned down an increase in military intelligence activities and approved relaxation of restrictions on the other techniques. I felt they were necessary and justified by the violence we faced. I was satisfied that none of the special techniques would be used indiscriminately, and that none of them represented any threat to legitimate dissent. The express domestic targets—the Black Panthers and the Weathermen—had announced their intentions to kidnap and assassinate and were already building an arsenal of weapons to carry out their threat.

  On July 23 Huston sent a memo to the heads of the intelligence agencies notifying them of my decision.

  When Hoover learned about this, he appealed to John Mitchell. He said he thought the possibility of public exposure was too great to justify the risks. Mitchell conveyed Hoover’s arguments to me, adding that he agreed with Hoover. I knew that if Hoover had decided not to cooperate, it would matter little what I had decided or approved. Even if I issued a direct order to him, while he would undoubtedly carry it out, he would soon see to it that I had cause to reverse myself. There was even the remote possibility that he would resign in protest.

  On July 28, five days later, before the plan could be implemented, I withdrew my approval.

  The irony of the controversy over the Huston Plan did not become apparent until a 1975 investigation revealed that the investigative techniques it would have involved had not only been carried out long before I approved the plan but continued to be carried out after I had rescinded my approval of it.

  It is clear that when a nation confronts dire situations someone is going to act. People will not stand by and let criminals destroy life and property. If the President does not decide how to meet the emergency, someone at a lower level will. I would rather it be the President exercising his judgment than the FBI agent in the field. As Senator Frank Church said in hearings on intelligence agency activities, the Huston Plan “was limited to techniques far more restrictive than the far-reaching methods that were employed by the FBI during the years that we have reviewed.”

  The bombing and violence continued unabated, and more than once I wondered whether the Huston Plan, if it had been in operation, might have detected and prevented the death and destruction. In August a policeman was killed and six others were wounded in a series of gun battles with the Black Panthers and another black militant group in Philadelphia. That same month, a bomb planted in a research center at the University of Wisconsin took the life of a graduate student working there; four other people were injured. On October 8 there were several bomb explosions—reportedly the work of the Weathermen—at the University of Washington and in two northern California towns. Five buildings were hit by dynamite blasts in Rochester, New York, on October 12; a research center in Irvine, California, was demolished by a bomb on October 18. On March 1, 1971, the U.S. Capitol was bombed by the Weather Underground.

  I believe today as I believed then that in view of the crisis of terrorism and violence visited upon countless innocent people, the recommendations made to me by the interagency intelligence group in its 1970 report were justified and responsible. Critics who later contended that the recommendations were repressive and unlawful had the luxury of a calmer environment. They did not face the exigencies of a critical period in which the President, whose paramount responsibility is to ensure the safety of all citizens, was forced to consider measures that would undoubtedly be unacceptable in more tranquil times.

  In the 1960s an FBI official report claimed that the results of just one surreptitious entry helped bring about the “near disintegration” of the Ku Klux Klan. Was the FBI right or wrong in taking that action? Did the threat of murder and violence by Klan members warrant an infringement on its members’ liberties?

  My decision to approve the recommendations of the Huston Plan, like the decisions of President Roosevelt to incarcerate thousands of Japanese-Americans and of President Lincoln to suspend the constitutional guarantee of habeas corpus, will always be debated. In the 1970s did the threatened and actual bombings of the Weathermen, and the brutal assaults of the Black Panthers, justify an intrusion on their liberties? When the issue juxtaposes the lives of innocent citizens against the possible curtailment of personal liberties we all cherish, the answers are never easy.

  Sometimes the letter of one law will conflict with the spirit of another, and that is when the President must choose. He cannot throw up his hands in dismay, because inaction may be as devastating as wrong action. The question is: What is the law, and how is it to be applied with respect to the President in fulfilling the duties of his office? Precedents over the years have sanctioned some degree of latitude in the use by Presidents of emergency measures to meet emergency situations. I believe such latitude
is necessary, and at times vital, to defend the nation and to protect innocent people whose lives are threatened by criminal forces. Jefferson was talking about this problem in 1810 when he noted:

  A strict observance of the written laws is doubtless one of the high duties of a good citizen, but it is not the highest. The laws of necessity, of self-preservation, of saving our country when in danger, are of a higher obligation. . . . To lose our country by a scrupulous adherence to written law, would be to lose the law itself, with life, liberty, property and all those who are enjoying them with us; thus absurdly sacrificing the end to the means.

  I think it would be disastrous if, in an excess of prohibitory zeal, we were to tie the President’s hands now and in the future, limiting him to the mechanical functions of executing the precise letter of the law, because laws cannot foresee every circumstance. We have to place faith in his judgment; we have to weigh the potential for abuse of power if we allow him reasonable latitude to act, against the potential harm that may result if we too narrowly restrict that latitude.

  WAR IN JORDAN

  America’s Middle Eastern policy under Presidents Kennedy and Johnson was aimed primarily at supplying the arms and money to enable Israel to defend itself against its potential enemies.

  This policy seemed to be successful. In 1967 the numerically inferior Israeli forces were able to defeat and humiliate the Soviet-armed Egyptians and Syrians in less than a week of fighting. As a result of this Six-Day War, the Israelis expanded their territory by occupying several areas along the banks of the Suez Canal, on the Sinai Peninsula, on the west bank of the Jordan River, in Jerusalem, and in the Golan Heights along the Israeli-Syrian border. The victory was overwhelming—so overwhelming that it was inevitable that further wars would be fought by Israel’s neighbors for repossession of these conquered and occupied territories.

  After the war high-level visits between Moscow and Cairo, Damascus, and Baghdad produced a massive new infusion of Soviet money, men, and matériel. The Soviets wanted to maintain their presence in the Middle East, not because of ideological support for the cause of Arab unity but because it was through Egypt and the other Arab countries that the Soviets could gain access to what the Russians had always wanted—land, oil, power, and the warm waters of the Mediterranean. As I commented to Bill Rogers, “The difference between our goal and the Soviet goal in the Middle East is very simple but fundamental. We want peace. They want the Middle East.”

  The potential for a confrontation between the United States and the U.S.S.R. loomed large. If the Soviets were committed to Arab victories, and we were committed to Israeli victories, it did not require much imagination to see how we both might be drawn in even against our wills—and almost certainly against our national interests.

  At the beginning of my administration, I assigned the Middle East exclusively to Bill Rogers and his Assistant Secretary of State for Near Eastern and South Asian Affairs, Joseph Sisco. I did this partly because I felt that Kissinger’s Jewish background would put him at a disadvantage during the delicate initial negotiations for the reopening of diplomatic relations with the Arab states. Primarily, however, I felt that the Middle East required full time and expert attention. As I told Kissinger, “You and I will have more than enough on our plate with Vietnam, SALT, the Soviets, Japan, and Europe.”

  It was clearly in America’s interests to halt the Soviet domination of the Arab Mideast. To do so would require broadening American relations with the Arab countries. Within the first few months of my administration I began taking the first steps in this direction.

  At the beginning of April 1969, King Hussein of Jordan made a state visit to the United States. In our last meeting before he left I told him that I was deeply troubled because the absence of diplomatic relations with some of the governments in the Middle East precluded our playing a constructive role in the region. Although he made no reply at the time, I knew that Hussein would carry this message back to the other Arab leaders.

  The next day, I met with Mahmoud Fawzi, who had come to Washington as a personal emissary of President Nasser of Egypt. I told him that we regretted the United States did not have formal relations with Egypt. I said that I did not believe there would ever be a settlement that would fully satisfy either side, but I was confident that a mutually acceptable compromise could be achieved if the United States could establish a new relationship with Egypt and the Arab nations. “Of course, this will require trust between the parties, and I know that trust has to be deserved and earned,” I said.

  The key to peace in the Middle East lay as much in Moscow as it did in Cairo or Damascus. Therefore when our new ambassador to the Soviet Union, Jacob Beam, presented his credentials in April 1969, I had him deliver a personal letter from me to Premier Kosygin. In it I said that it was essential that both our countries exert a calming influence in the Middle East, and that no outside power seek any advantage in the area at the expense of any other.

  On September 25, 1969, Golda Meir came to Washington for a state visit. In Israeli terms she was a “hawk,” and a hard-liner opposed to surrendering even an inch of the occupied territory Israel had won in the 1967 war. Mrs. Meir conveyed simultaneously the qualities of extreme toughness and extreme warmth; when the survival of her country was involved, the toughness was predominant. She requested twenty-five Phantom jets and eighty Skyhawk fighters and complained about the delays in delivery of planes that had already been approved. She also asked for low-interest loans of $200 million a year for periods up to five years. I reassured her that our commitments would be met.

  At the state dinner in her honor she expressed concern regarding our moves toward détente with the Soviets. I told her that we had no illusions about their motives. I said, “Our Golden Rule as far as international diplomacy is concerned is: ‘Do unto others as they do unto you.’ ”

  “Plus ten percent,” Kissinger quickly added.

  Mrs. Meir smiled. “As long as you approach things that way, we have no fears,” she said.

  In December 1969, Bill Rogers gave a speech in which he outlined what became known as the “Rogers Plan” for peace in the Middle East. This plan was based on the principle of the return of the occupied Arab territories in exchange for Arab assurances of Israel’s territorial integrity. In strictly practical terms, the provision for return of occupied territories meant that the Rogers Plan had absolutely no chance of being accepted by Israel.

  Rogers and the State Department argued that the plan offered the best hope for peace, since the return of the occupied territories would at least remove for the Arabs the hated reminder of their humiliating defeat. Kissinger countered that the plan encouraged the extremist elements among the Arabs, gratuitously offended the Israelis, and earned the contempt of the Soviets, who saw it as playing naively into their hands. As Kissinger predicted, the Rogers Plan drew fierce criticism from the Israelis and made Rogers, as Kissinger frequently reminded me, “the most unpopular man in Israel.”

  I knew that the Rogers Plan could never be implemented, but I believed that it was important to let the Arab world know that the United States did not automatically dismiss its case regarding the occupied territories or rule out a compromise settlement of the conflicting claims. With the Rogers Plan on the record, I thought it would be easier for the Arab leaders to propose reopening relations with the United States without coming under attack from the hawks and pro-Soviet elements in their own countries.

  On January 31, 1970, I received what Kissinger termed the first Soviet threat of my administration. Significantly, it involved the Middle East. It came in the form of a letter from Premier Kosygin that stated: “We would like to tell you in all frankness that if Israel continues its adventurism, to bomb the territory of U.A.R. and of other Arab states, the Soviet Union will be forced to see to it that the Arab states have means at their disposal, with the help of which a due rebuff to the arrogant aggressor could be made.”

  My reply was carefully low-keyed: I urged a more
positive Soviet response to the Rogers Plan and proposed discussions on limiting arms supplies to the Middle East.

  In the meantime a different kind of diplomatic problem had arisen closer to home. Many members of the American Jewish community and its political friends had decided to boycott the state visit of President Georges Pompidou of France as a protest against his recent sale to Libya of more than a hundred Mirage jet fighters.

  Shortly before Pompidou’s arrival, I received word that neither Governor Rockefeller nor Mayor Lindsay would officially greet him in New York nor attend the dinner in his honor at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel on the last night of his visit. I fully understood the importance of the Jewish vote in New York, but, as I said to Haldeman, “It’s completely hypocritical to treat Pompidou this way when they slobbered all over Kosygin when he was there—and he’s the direct cause of the whole damn problem.” I told Kissinger, “I consider this unconscionable conduct towards an official guest of the United States of America, and I will not tolerate it. Nor will I lead people to believe that it has any effect whatsoever on me.”

  After four days in Washington, the Pompidous visited Cape Kennedy and San Francisco before flying to Chicago. There, obscenity-screaming demonstrators broke through police lines and jostled the Pompidou party. Madame Pompidou was shaken by the incident, and Bus Mosbacher, our Chief of Protocol, informed me that she was going to fly home to Paris the next morning.

  I told Mosbacher, “I don’t care what you have to do, but I don’t want her to leave.”

  I decided to fly to New York and attend the Waldorf-Astoria dinner that Rockefeller and Lindsay were boycotting. My appearance at the dinner came as a dramatic surprise, and nothing I said in our many talks over the years on substantive matters did as much to win Pompidou’s friendship and cooperation as this gesture.

  At the beginning of March I decided to postpone our delivery of Phantom jets to Israel. I had heard that the Soviets were coming under renewed pressures from their Arab clients to surpass the new American deliveries to Israel, and I hoped that since Israel was already in a strong military position, I could slow down the arms race without tipping the fragile military balance in the region. I also believed that American influence in the Middle East increasingly depended on our renewing diplomatic relationships with Egypt and Syria, and this decision would help promote that goal.