In January 1989, Condi became director of Soviet and East European affairs at the National Security Council. “I had chosen Condi,” said Brent, “because she had extensive knowledge of Soviet history and politics, great objective balance in evaluating what was going on, and a penetrating mind with an affinity for strategy and conceptualization. She [was] . . . conversant and up to date with military affairs.” He also felt that she could hold her own when the job got rough. “She was charming and affable, but could be tough as nails when the situation required,” he said. Four months later she was upgraded to senior director for Soviet affairs and also named special assistant to the president for national security affairs. Condi’s closest associates were Philip Zelikow, manager of European policy and Dennis Ross, another Soviet specialist and director of policy planning. Condi knew Dennis from California, where he had been a professor at Berkeley. All three were accountable to Robert Blackwill, the senior director for European and Soviet affairs.
Besides the president and cabinet members mentioned above, other members of the president’s National Security Council included Brent’s deputy, Robert Gates, and Robert Hutchings, head of the Council’s Southeastern Europe and Germany departments. Others with whom Condi worked closely included Robert Zoellick in the state department and Paul Wolfowitz in the department of defense.
Condi held three major job responsibilities as part of the National Security Council staff. First, she helped coordinate the policy-making process by gathering information from those at the assistant secretary or undersecretary level. Second, she served as an aid to Brent Scowcroft, helping him decide which foreign officials to see and preparing for those visits. “We went to the meetings,” she said, “and I would write a paper for him suggesting issues he might want to raise. If an issue couldn’t be settled at my level and it had to go to the Scowcroft, Baker, Cheney, Powell level, then it was my responsibility to make sure Brent was prepared.” Her third area of responsibility was acting as the president’s “personal foreign policy staff.” In this function, she wrote briefing papers about issues to be raised at foreign policy meetings with other heads of state.
The first job she faced as one of the president’s top political minds was cracking the case of the 500-pound cake.
On the administration’s first day at work in January, the White House received a huge box with a Soviet postmark but no other identifying information. The Secret Service’s bomb squad carefully transported it to a secure area and, decked out in full bomb-proof regalia, opened it. Inside was a slightly crushed but magnificently decorated, gigantic cake. Condi was enlisted to track down who sent it. With only a postmark to go on, she launched a personal investigation and discovered that a bakers’ collective from a small Soviet town had made the cake for President Bush to congratulate him on his inauguration.
The president found this very touching, and he asked that a photo be taken of him and his family by the cake and sent to the bakers’ group. He then wanted the cake sent to a charity that could distribute and enjoy it. The photo session took several days to organize and by the time the cake was to be sent away the rats in the Secret Service warehouse had polished most of it off.
In March, Condi was given her first critical assignment—one that put her at the center of the policy-making process. The president had just received a lengthy National Security Review outlining the United States’ policy history with the Soviet Union. He had requested this report in an effort to begin formulating his own approach to Gorbachev. Brent Scowcroft thought the report was sorely lacking in both detail and ideas, and he instructed Condi to lead a National Security Council team in writing up a “think piece” that focused on Gorbachev—the policies he had already formed and the ideas he had for the future.
Up until then, Condi had written about Gorbachev, publishing articles about him in journals and book compilations and adding substance to the study of the Soviet Union. With this assignment, she had an opportunity to put her knowledge of Gorbachev and the Soviet system to work as a shaper of U.S. policy for the first time. The document that came out of her group formed the basis of the Bush administration’s policy with the Soviet Union. “Condi’s memo laid out the premises that I believed should guide the development of an overall strategy for U.S.-Soviet relations,” wrote Scowcroft, “and it evolved into a four-part approach for coping with Gorbachev.”
He described these four steps as strengthening America’s foreign policy image with a clear, confident policy agenda; ensuring that America’s allies understand the U.S. commitment to them and to arms control; taking action—including economic aid—in Eastern Europe to promote the independence launched by Gorbachev’s reforms; and working “aggressively to promote regional stability” in the world through U.S.-Soviet cooperation.
Condi’s input to this blueprint for American foreign policy included a supporting memo that discussed the turmoil within the Soviet Union. She pointed out that as Moscow’s old political structures crumbled, it was forced to look for guidance in the outside world. This opened up the possibility of an ambitious and dramatic new approach to the Soviet Union, one that involved “setting our sights literally on transforming the behavior of the Soviet Union at home and abroad,” according to Brent Scowcroft.
Condi’s next assignment, like the cake incident, involved more sleuthing. The new administration was being criticized for not defining its foreign policy position or announcing goals or strategies that would signal where the government’s policy was headed. The decision was made to schedule the president’s policy speeches during the coming spring commencement season. But an event in Eastern Europe prompted the administration to bump up that schedule. In early April, Solidarity was made legal in Poland, and the nation broke away from forty-five years of Communist rule. With Poland’s new rush toward democracy, the administration had a cause around which to form its Eastern European policy. They scheduled the president’s Poland/Eastern European policy speech to take place in Hamtramck, Michigan, on April 17. Brent described Hamtramck as a “natural” choice because “it had a high concentration of families with ties to Eastern Europe, particularly Poland. . . . It was the right place to talk about change inside the Soviet Union and our aspirations for Poland’s freedom.”
With the speech only two weeks away, Bush’s aides had to work fast. In this case, he immediately put Condi to work searching for money within government programs that could be pulled to use as economic aid to Poland. This was a difficult task in an environment of tight budgets and a huge deficit. The president also had to decide about whether or not to make economic aid a big part of his policy. The National Security Council meeting devoted to that topic brought up two views: sending money to Poland was risky because the country may not be able to make good use of it yet. One member argued that the United States had sent economic aid to Poland in the 1970s to support some political changes, but it had made no difference because the infrastructure wasn’t ready for it yet. The same thing could happen this time. On the other side, President Bush and Secretary of State James Baker argued that Poland was making great economic strides this time and it was a completely different situation. The president had to make his own decision, and he ultimately decided to try to find as much financial aid as possible to include in his policy toward Poland.
The question of who would write the speech sparked a controversy between the national security staff and the president’s speechwriters. Brent felt that the National Security Council was the logical choice because they were closest to the substance of the issue. The speechwriters argued that they were perfectly capable of nailing down the content as well, and they resented the fact that anyone would call that into question. Brent compromised and assigned the first draft to Condoleezza and chief speechwriter Mark Davis. President Bush then put his own mark on the speech, adding his own nuance and tone until he felt it perfectly reflected his view as well as his voice.
In July 1989, Condi joined President Bush, Brent Scowcroft, and their off
icial delegation to Poland and Hungary, where the president addressed the crowds with promises of economic support for Eastern European democracy movements. In Warsaw and Gdansk, Poland, they met with Solidarity leaders Lech Walesa and General Wojciech Jaruzelski, and Bush made an address at the National Assembly. In Budapest, they met with Communist leaders including Prime Minister Miklòs Nèmeth, who presented the president with a memento that hinted at the monumental changes to come. “Nèmeth presented President Bush with a plaque containing a piece of the barbed wire from the border fence between Hungary and Austria—a literal piece of the Iron Curtain,” wrote Scowcroft. Hungary had opened its border with Austria, and although this created a problem with East Germans trying to flee to the West via Hungary, it portrayed Hungary as a “beacon of light” in Eastern Europe.
In the fall of 1989, Condi faced a situation in which she proved Brent correct about her ability to handle herself when the going got tough. She was to greet Boris Yeltsin—the garrulous, heavy-drinking Soviet official—at the White House entrance and direct him to a meeting. Yeltsin, then a member of the Soviet parliament, was Gorbachev’s most vocal critic, frequently lashing out about how slowly his economic reforms were moving. During his U.S. tour that September he became a press magnet for his unpredictable, red-faced outbursts and colorful personality.
President Bush and Scowcroft had to decide whether or not Yeltsin would get a White House visit. Their carefully planned structure for meeting foreign political guests had three levels. The most prestigious visit was a scheduled meeting with the president. One step down was a meeting with Brent, with a “drop by” visit from the president that could last as long as the president desired. The third type was a meeting with Brent alone. Entrance to the White House was another factor—if Brent wanted the press to have access to the guest, the official would be brought in through the West Lobby. Those whom he wished to keep away from the press were brought through the West Basement doors.
President Bush wanted to meet Yeltsin and he asked Brent to schedule a drop-by meeting in Brent’s office. On September 12, Yeltsin was instructed to arrive at the basement entrance, where Condi was waiting for him. True to form, Yeltsin refused to budge from his car unless Condi promised to take him to the Oval Office. “This isn’t the door you go in to see the president,” he yelled at Condi, who reminded him that his meeting was with the national security advisor, not President Bush. “I’ve never heard of General Scowcroft,” he barked at her. “He’s not important enough to meet with me.” Fuming, with arms crossed defiantly over his chest, he sat in the car and glared at Condi, who glared back without saying a word. The stare-down lasted five minutes. Then Condi began to turn away and said, in an impassive tone, that he might as well return to his hotel as she would inform the general that he was not coming. Yeltsin relented, agreed to see Scowcroft, and stomped out of the car. Condi grabbed him by the elbow and brusquely led him up the stairs.
Those who witnessed this exchange were amazed at Condi’s complete lack of intimidation. They knew she was confident and self-assured, but until that day they had not seen the depth of her fortitude.
Yeltsin was delighted when the president dropped by the meeting for a few minutes. When he left and his car began leaving the White House grounds, he spotted a cluster of reporters taping their stand-up reports. He jumped from the car, attracted the crowd, and proceeded to speak to several journalists. Although it was not the quiet exit Brent had orchestrated, “no harm was done,” and Yeltsin soon returned to Moscow.
Two months later, the fall of the Berlin Wall revealed the groundbreaking changes taking place in Eastern Europe. A few weeks after that jubilant event, Condi accompanied President Bush and his national security delegation to the Malta Summit, where they presented their position to Gorbachev. As described in Chapter Six, this was Condi’s first meeting with Gorbachev and other top-ranking Soviet officials. The Soviet president’s attitude upon meeting her was just one of many surprised reactions she would receive. “I think the Russians would sometimes feel, ‘What’s a girl like you doing here amidst bombs and bullets?’” she said. Other than that, she was not certain exactly how the white male Soviet power structure actually felt about her. “It was initially hard for the Russians to accept me,” she said. “I never figured out if it was because I was female, or black, or young. But by and large, they’ve managed to deal with it.” Her schedule didn’t give her time to worry about it and her attitude has never been one of intimidation. “I never have felt lonely or stressed in these environments,” she said. “You just get caught up in the fourteen-to-fifteen-hour days.”
From time to time, Condi ran into problems as a black/female minority within the foreign policy ranks. When Gorbachev made his first visit across the United States in June 1990, for example, Condi was chosen to lead the American delegation that escorted him to various cities. At the airport in San Francisco, a secret service agent—who for some odd reason had no idea who Condi was—tried to prevent her from stepping out onto the tarmac with the rest of the group. “He was right in my face in a confrontational way,” she recalled. “And that provokes a confrontational attitude from me.” The incident was reported in the press and proved highly embarrassing for the secret service. The image of a white agent brusquely keeping the only black person in the group away from the leader of the Soviet Union did not paint a good portrait of American race relations. Condi remarked that she is no “shrinking violet” in situations like this.
Another episode that illustrates the sexism any woman is likely to face in the field of international relations came years later when Condi was working in the second Bush administration and on an official visit to Israel. Ariel Sharon, then a candidate for prime minister, told journalists, “I have to confess, it was hard for me to concentrate in the conversation with Condoleezza Rice because she has very nice legs.” Another journalist explained that such remarks are generally overlooked in Israel because of the prevalence of the macho military attitude. “You know these people who serve too many years in the army,” she said, “it’s the way they see things.”
A priority of the Malta Summit of December 1989 was discussion of the reunification of Germany, a prospect that the Soviets feared “would rip the heart out of the Soviet security system.” Gorbachev, whose proposals for more economic freedom in the Soviet satellite countries led to bold demonstrations and border openings, had not anticipated the swift rush toward independence that these nations would take. Condi was among the small group that developed the policy that Bush brought to Malta as well as to other European summits that year. The policy-making group consisted of Condi, Philip Zelikow (with whom she would write a book about German reunification), Robert Blackwill, Peter Zoellick, and Dennis Ross. They were Scowcroft’s top aides regarding German reunification.
Condi’s group crafted an American policy toward Germany and the “new Europe” that involved Germany’s self-determination and commitment to NATO. It also stressed that all transformation be “peaceful, gradual, and part of a step-by-step process.” Another goal was to have reunification take place quickly, before the Soviets and others could hamper the process with formal counterproposals. Condi played a major role in shaping this part of the policy. In an early 1990 memo to Scowcroft she stated that the five-year plan announced by German Chancellor Helmut Kohl was too slow, allowing too much time for the USSR to intervene and play a strong hand. She persuaded Scowcroft and his staff that time was of the essence. “It was a risky move,” said Philip Zelikow. “But it turned out to be accurate.”
The sweeping transformation of Germany did occur quickly. In March 1990, the first free East German election was held, and pro-unification parties won the majority. In September, European leaders met in Moscow to sign the Treaty on the Final Settlement with Respect to Germany, which recognized East Germany’s union with West Germany. “Today’s agreement settles the external aspects of the establishment of German unity and makes the achievement of a unified, free, and democrat
ic Germany just a short step away,” said White House Press Secretary Marlin Fitzwater. A photo included in Condi’s book Germany Unified and Europe Transformed shows her standing in the crowd behind the signer’s table at this historic event. Of the approximately thirty-five people shown, she appears to be one of only two women in the room. On October 3, 1990, the two Germanys signed the official unification treaty.
With the loss of East Germany, the Soviet Union was firmly set on a course of destruction that the world had not anticipated. Condi was at the center of American policy during this process until she left her post in March 1991. In January of that year, Lithuania and Latvia’s struggle for independence erupted in violence—one of the few bloody episodes in the entire transformation. More Baltic states broke away in a domino effect, and in June 1991, Russia was allowed to vote for its own president for the first time, and Yeltsin became the Russian leader while Gorbachev remained the head of the Soviet Union. In December, leaders of Ukraine, Russia, and Belarus secretly met to form the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS), and the Soviet Union was permanently disbanded. On Christmas Day, Gorbachev announced that he was stepping down. At the Kremlin, the red and yellow-sickle Soviet flag was replaced by the white, blue, and red flag of the new Russian Federation.
During Condi’s two-year term with the National Security Council, she had not only become close friends of President George Bush and his wife Barbara, but had made an indelible impression upon him and the rest of his staff. Bush was enormously impressed in her performance and it came as no surprise that he wanted George W. to meet her when he won his first political campaign and became governor of Texas. Bush Senior appreciated Condi’s diplomatic style as much as her intellectual resources, as expressed in a note he wrote to a journalist in 2000:Condi was brilliant, but she never tried to flaunt it while in meetings with foreign leaders. . . . Her temperament was such that she had an amazing way of getting along with people, of making a strong point without being disagreeable to those who differed. . . . She has a manner and presence that disarms the biggest of the big shots. Why? Because they know she knows what she is talking about.
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