“That day there was a particularly exciting college football game on, I believe it was Oklahoma-Ohio State, and the game had just ended when I arrived,” said Laitos. “I was discussing the game with someone else when Condi walked up and joined the conversation. This was the first time I had met her. It was immediately apparent that she knew football, and was not just faking it. That started a two-year ‘football relationship’ between us. We never talked about Russia or school, we just talked about football.” Laitos also recalled going over to the Rices’ on Sunday afternoons to watch football and enjoy Angelena’s famous gumbo. “I remember her mother made us all gumbo soup,” he said, “and we all thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon of football and gumbo and good cheer.”
The doctoral program that Condi entered at the University of Denver had a distinguished history in both its faculty and its curriculum. Denver’s Graduate School of International Studies differed from the East Coast Soviet programs in that its curriculum has always been broad-based. Columbia’s Russian Institute, for example, had a “predominant intellectual orientation on regime studies, rather than social, economic, and cultural processes,” said its current director, Mark von Hagen. The East Coast institutes were keenly focused on the Moscow infrastructure and Cold War strategies, and after the Soviet Union dismantled they were compelled to expand dramatically to encompass cultural, economic, and social aspects of the region. Denver, on the other hand, included those themes in its curriculum from the start. “Looking back,” said GSIS professor Karen Feste, “the school doesn’t seem a lot different today than it was in the beginning because we were never caught up in the Cold War politics that some of the East Coast schools were. Broader coverage was a matter of routine for us. We had always been interested in social development and human justice in addition to the East-West divide. As a result, when the Cold War ended, our curriculum had less dramatic changes than our sister schools.”
This program, exploring several aspects of the Soviet/ Russian experience, was very attractive to Condi when she enrolled in 1976. Josef Korbel had not always welcomed women to the department—when he founded GSIS, he opposed the idea of bringing in female students and faculty because he doubted the graduates would go out and get high-ranking positions that could contribute to the stature of the department. When Karen Feste joined the department in the early 1970s, for example, Korbel voted against her appointment to the faculty. The majority voted for Feste, however, and she was brought in as a professor of international politics and research methodology. She remained the only woman on the faculty for many years, but she witnessed Korbel’s view change over time. His initial reluctance was ironic in that he strongly supported his daughter’s academic track in political science. In the 1960s, Madeleine Albright pursued her master’s and doctoral degrees in Columbia’s Department of Public Law and Government and also completed the university’s Russian Institute program. When Condi began taking classes in international studies at Denver in 1975, after returning from Notre Dame, Madeleine was running Senator Edwin Muskie’s national fund-raising campaign.
Karen Feste, one of Condi’s professors and academic advisors, became a good friend of Korbel within the first two years of her appointment, and she observed a dramatic transformation in his view about women in the program. “He and I were close,” she said. “He was the oldest one on the faculty, I was youngest; he was Old World in his approach, I was modern; and we seemed to click.” By the time Condi arrived at Denver he had thoroughly changed his outlook. He was interested in attracting the best and the brightest and, as Feste observed, “gender factors were not important.”
Karen Feste had earned her Ph.D. at the University of Minnesota before joining the faculty at Denver and, in addition to teaching, has worked as a political consultant throughout the world for organizations such as Egypt’s Institute of National Planning and Kuwait University. Another of Condi’s professors, Jonathan Adelman, had received his Ph.D. in political science at Columbia (as had Brinkley, her Notre Dame professor). Since joining the faculty at GSIS, Adelman has been a visiting scholar at universities in Beijing and Moscow and has traveled extensively on speaking tours for the State Department. A prominent member of the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, he was a member of the Allied Jewish Federation’s mission to Israel in 2002.
At GSIS, Condi also studied with Catherine Kelleher, a professor who has become one the world’s foremost experts on security issues and whose career has encompassed both academia and government. She worked at the Pentagon as deputy assistant secretary of defense for Russia, Ukraine, and Eurasia, and later served as defense advisor and personal representative of the secretary of defense at NATO. She was also the director of the Aspen Institute Berlin, the German office of the organization that conducts policy seminars for American and European leaders. In the spring of 2002, she was awarded the Bundeswehr Golden Cross of Honor, Germany’s highest military decoration, for her “contributions to transatlantic relations, especially the promotion of political dialogue between European and American decision-makers.” She is currently a professor at the Naval War College in New-port, Rhode Island.
The 1970s and 1980s were an extremely exciting time to be studying international relations and the Soviet Union. Major Cold War events that coincided with Condi’s college years included the Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty (SALT I) signed by the United States and the Soviet Union in 1972. By the time Condi started graduate school the talks had reached an impasse and India had developed nuclear weapons. In 1975, the United States and the USSR joined thirty-three other nations at the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe and included their signatures on the Final Act of the conference, the Helsinki Accords. This pledge to protect human rights also established the borders of Europe as they stood at the end of World War II, recognizing the Soviet Union’s domination over the Baltic States of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania.
Another episode for Condi to follow as she developed her Russian reading skills in the pages of Pravda was the sale of U.S. grain to the Soviet Union in 1975. Near-famine conditions in the USSR compelled the nation to sign a long-term contract for U.S. grain. A less dour motivation for U.S.-Soviet relations also occurred that year—the spacelink of the U.S. Apollo and the Soviet Soyuz spacecraft. In the six years since the Apollo moon-walk, NASA administrators had been working to convert the Apollo mission into a program of American-Soviet cooperation. “As with so many aspects of American national policy, NASA’s programs had always reflected the current environment of foreign affairs,” stated a NASA article on the Apollo-Soyuz spacelink. “The joint flight could be seen as a part of détente, but the people at NASA saw it as much more.”
The Apollo-Soyuz Test Project (ASTP) kept NASA in the manned space mission, kept the flight team working, and paved the way for the international space cooperation that was essential for the next phase of space technology. The spacelink was covered on TV, which provided images of U.S.-Soviet cooperation that were painfully absent in the arms race. Statements by the astronauts and cosmonauts described the unity of the world as seen from space, a refreshing change from political stories that stressed the tensions between the superpowers. “Dear American TV people,” said cosmonaut Valeriy Kubasov during one televised spot, “It would be wrong to ask which country’s more beautiful. It would be right to say there is nothing more beautiful than our blue planet.”
In 1976, the year Condi began her Ph.D. program, she registered as a Democrat and voted for Jimmy Carter in the election. Carter’s handling of the USSR’s invasion of Afghanistan in late December 1979, however, changed her mind about him and the Democratic party. The president called the invasion “a deliberate effort by a powerful atheistic government to subjugate an independent Islamic people” and warned that a “Soviet-occupied Afghanistan threatens both Iran and Pakistan and is a steppingstone to their possible control over much of the world’s oil supplies.” He also said that he was shocked and saddened by the attack and that his “opinion of th
e Russians has changed most drastically in the last week [more] than even in the previous two and one-half years before that.” In response, he issued an embargo on grain and technology, cut back Soviet fishing privileges in American waters, postponed discussion and ratification of the SALT II treaty that he and Brezhnev had hammered out earlier that year, and called for a U.S. boycott of the 1980 Moscow Summer Olympics. Condi thought that Carter’s shock and surprise were naive and his actions too weak. “I remember thinking, What did you think you were dealing with?” she said. “This is a horrible government—of course they invaded some foreign country! I thought it was time to have a tougher policy toward this repressive regime.”
Had it not been for Carter’s treatment of the Soviets during that crisis, Condi would probably still be a Democrat. “I was a registered Democrat and might never have changed parties were it not for what I thought was our mishandling of the Cold War,” she said in 2000. “I thought the Soviets were aggressive and playing us like a violin. I thought Carter didn’t understand the true nature of the Soviet Union, which was pretty dark.”
Condi was so passionate in her criticism of the U.S. policy toward the Soviet Union that her attitude overpowered her high regard for the Democratic party’s support of the Civil Rights movement. During the presidential campaign of 1980, she registered as a Republican and voted for Ronald Reagan. “I admired what Lyndon Johnson did for civil rights in 1964,” she said. “But by 1980 I just thought the U.S. was not pursuing an effective foreign policy, and I was attracted to Reagan’s strength. Then my political views developed in favor of smaller government.”
Condi’s Democratic beginnings are still evident in her moderate social views, such as her pro-choice stance. This makes her a self-described “all-over-the-map Republican” who is “‘very conservative’ in foreign policy, ‘ultra-conservative’ in other areas, ‘almost shockingly libertarian’ on some issues, ‘moderate’ on others, and ‘liberal’ on probably nothing.”
Many Americans who were introduced to Condi for the first time through her speech at the 2000 Republican National Convention got the impression that she became a Republican in the footsteps of her father who had been rejected by the Democrats in Jim Crow Alabama. But Condi had her own reasons. “It was the constitution and foreign policy, not social issues, that drew me to the Republican party,” she said. Condi takes a ribbing from her black friends for being a Republican, but she is firm and confident in her position. “I’m in the GOP for the right reasons,” she said. “I like our foreign policy stance better. I really am a smaller government person. I don’t think every solution is in Washington.”
In the final year of Condi’s doctoral program, Polish shipyard worker Lech Walesa was named the official chairman of his non-communist trade union, Solidarity. After years of daring, illegal strikes, Walesa had gained rights for Polish workers and brought international attention to Poland’s struggles under communist rule. Not even the closest followers of these events dreamed that they signaled the beginning of the end of communism in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union.
Following world events like these fueled Condi’s passion for Soviet studies. Unlike the other subjects she had explored as an undergraduate, this field had powerful, real-world immediacy that impacted the way nations behaved, the way people lived, and the way history unfolded.
To Josef Korbel, Condi stood out among her fellow students at GSIS because she possessed the complete package—academic brilliance, self-motivation, and a Russian-language background. “Korbel liked Condi because she was smart, she was quick, she was energetic and she knew Russian,” said Feste. “Those are factors that mattered to him.” Foreign language was a crucial part of the program in Korbel’s view, and he demanded that students start working on a Slavic language before entering the program. “Korbel told students who wanted to study East or Central Europe or the former Soviet Union that they better have a language before they came to study with him,” said Feste. “Condi was a perfect candidate because she did have a background in Russian. Others didn’t; they had followed the politics but hadn’t studied a language. He told them to come back after they had studied one of the languages such as Czech, Polish, or Russian.”
Condi not only continued her Russian lessons but also began studying Czech, as her Russian professor Libor Brom was Czech and encouraged her to pursue it. Today, her professional resume states that she is fluent in Russian and has “research ability” in Czech and French.
Korbel was known for being extremely gracious with those he liked and severe with those who did not measure up to his standards. “He expected a lot out of people,” said Feste. “He gravitated toward people who he thought were very intelligent.” Condi got along very well with him, and he pushed her relentlessly to aim high in the field. Korbel’s support and enthusiasm for Condi’s career echoed the support he gave his daughter, and this attention made him a new father figure. “He was as proud of [Madeleine], and as aggressive about her prospects, as he was about me,” Condi said. His faith in her talent proved to be well justified.
One of Korbel’s themes that would come to light in Condi’s work with George W. Bush was his insistence that students learn to translate policy into clear, concise language. “It was Josef Korbel who taught her that a leader must articulate foreign policy in ways ordinary people can understand,” wrote Ann Blackman in her biography of Madeleine Albright, “that in times of crisis, citizens will not rally to the cause if they do not understand the impact it will have on their daily lives.” Condi took this lesson to heart and developed a reputation as someone who can bring the most complex policy issues down to earth. That ability made her George W.’s first choice as foreign policy tutor during the presidential campaign, and it is a central part of her job as national security advisor.
Although Korbel was Condi’s mentor and favorite teacher, they did not always agree. She said he was “probably more liberal on domestic politics than I was,” but added, “he was a wonderful storyteller and very attentive to his students. It was that attentiveness, plus his ability to weave larger conceptual issues around very interesting stories, that made him such a powerful teacher.”
The large amount of independent study work that Condi did at Notre Dame prepared her well for the rigorous process at GSIS. “Our program works best for students who work autonomously,” said Feste, “and she was one of those people. She was willing to seek out help when she needed it and just do the work; that was Condi’s approach.” Coursework in the program included topics such as military history, Soviet foreign policy, Soviet and Russian history, communism, international politics, and Soviet and Russian culture. She narrowed her research for her dissertation to comparative military regimes, working closely with Jonathan Adelman who co-chaired her dissertation committee and with George Brinkley, her former professor at Notre Dame. Her study analyzed the Czech military and its effects upon the nation’s society and politics. It was pioneering research that resulted in a unique contribution to the field. “There wasn’t a lot written about the subject,” said Adelman. “There wasn’t a lot of information out there, [but] that didn’t stop her. She rolled up her sleeves.” To Adelman, her eagerness to meet this challenge revealed a lot about her character. “People might see her as contained,” he said. “But she can be quite daring, flexible, and innovative.”
Her study included a seven-week trip to the Soviet Union with a brief stop in Poland. In Moscow, she was forced to be unusually creative in her research methods due to the scarcity of documented information. Her relatively brief visit put a real face on the research topics she pursued in the libraries at the University of Denver. “The General Staff [of the USSR] was my life for five years,” she said. “I would go to Moscow and count the windows in the Ministry of Defense General Staff building to figure out how many people worked there because the data was never published.” Later, when she was working in Bush Senior’s administration, she discussed the subject with Sergei Akhromoyev, who had been the leade
r of the Soviet General Staff for many years. She had estimated that there were about 5,000 members of the staff, and when she asked him for the figure, he said, “About 5,000.” Her creative research methods had worked.
On her research trip, Condi finally had the opportunity to experience the culture that had enthralled her for years. In Moscow and St. Petersburg, she could visit the concert halls in which Tchaikovsky conducted his symphonies, Rubinstein poured out Chopin, and young Rachmaninov conducted opera. She saw firsthand how the solid authority of the state manifested itself in the imposing walls surrounding the Kremlin, the sprawling memorials to the nation’s heroes, and the majestic architecture of the subway system. She was surrounded by the beauty of the Russian language, which swirled through the steamy coffeehouses and which by now she could speak and read with confidence.
Very few black individuals lived in Moscow, and although Condi had grown accustomed to predominantly white classrooms, she was a minority as both a black person and an American in the USSR capital. According to one Russian native, this would have made her a very popular character. Dmitri Gerasamenko, a native of St. Petersburg and graduate of the St. Petersburg State Theatre Arts Academy, noted the extraordinary phase in which foreigners, including black people, first trickled into the Soviet Union. “The majority of Soviets didn’t have the opportunity to interact with blacks before 1957, the year of the International Students Festival in Moscow,” he said. “The Iron Curtain had been up for forty years and suddenly people from all over the world were coming to Moscow for the first time. The visitors were astounded by the wonderful energy in Moscow, although the people were so poor, they were proud to share whatever they had, to have some room in their communal apartments to entertain.
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