The Secretary

by Kim Ghattas

  Hillary’s team had to figure out how best to serve Hillary in her new role, how to find their way to the cafeteria on the first floor and make it back to their desks again in the labyrinthine building, how to fit into the system or bend it to their needs. And every day, they had to ask, “Who do you call?” Who did you call if you wanted to translate an opinion piece by the secretary of state into dozens of languages and have it published in 139 newspapers and on websites in sixty countries? Who did you call if you wanted to plan media coverage of her next speech? Who did you call if you needed a printer? Who did you call if you wanted to get anything done?

  * * *

  Jake Sullivan wasn’t even certain what needed to be done or where to start. A pale, blue-eyed, young Minnesotan lawyer, he was a newcomer, arriving at the State Department a few hours after Clinton’s raucous welcome. He rode the elevator to his new cubbyhole office on the seventh floor and turned on his computer. Hillaryland was new territory for him. He had met her only two years earlier, when he joined Clinton’s campaign as a deputy policy advisor. It sounded like a grand title, but he was just one of the many players in the massive campaign machine. After Clinton lost the Democratic nomination, he jumped to the Obama team, helping with the presidential debate preparations and later working on the transition team. Jake had been planning to head back to Minnesota when Cheryl Mills, a key figure in the Clinton White House who was going to be Hillary’s chief of staff, called to say Clinton wanted him with her at the State Department. He didn’t know Hillary well, but he had liked her instantly when they met for his job interview at her campaign headquarters on Seventeenth and K Streets in Washington in March 2007. He found her impressive but down-to-earth, as keen to connect with people as she was to discuss ideas—a real, three-dimensional person. “Holy cow,” Jake thought to himself that day. “You make a joke, she laughs; she asks you a question, she listens to the answer; she makes eye contact.” He did not expect an exalted figure to behave this way.

  Most of all, Jake had loved the way she talked about America on the campaign trail, and about how and why she wanted to be president of the United States. If there was one reason why he had ever wanted to serve in government, it was because Jake believed in America’s ability to be a force for good. The pull of home was strong, Jake was not a fan of Washington, but when Cheryl, and later Hillary, told him he would regret not serving at a time of historic change in America, he agreed to be Clinton’s deputy chief of staff. He didn’t really know what that would involve, precisely. It was a new position in the building, and he didn’t know how the State Department worked either. But on this first day, here he was, sitting across the hall from the secretary of state’s office on Mahogany Row, his e-mail in-box already overflowing.

  * * *

  The phones were ringing incessantly. The world was calling. Countries around the world had always obsessively and irrationally craved attention from America, but now it seemed that everybody wanted to be touched by Obama and his secretary of state. European countries competed for an audience with Clinton at the State Department. The British and German foreign ministers both arrived for visits on the same day, February 2. David Miliband got to go first. After the talks, he declared before the cameras that the United Kingdom admired and respected Clinton as an ambassador of America and “everything good it stood for.” She lunched with the Germans. Then came the French. They all pleaded for her to visit the Old Continent on her first visit abroad. The Europeans believed that a quick visit from Clinton would perfectly seal the reconciliation with America that had only just started toward the end of the Bush administration after the deep rift caused by the Iraq War. The reconciliation could only feel real with a proper visit from the new Democratic administration. No promises were made and most visitors left with a signed copy of Hillary’s autobiography, Living History. Clinton spoke to the Italian foreign minister, Franco Frattini, on the phone.

  “Hi, this is Hillary, how are you, Mr. Minister?” she began. They talked about the close ties between Italy and the United States, and by the time the call ended, she was calling him by his first name.

  “I look forward to seeing you in Washington, Franco,” she ended. On the other side of the Atlantic, the minister was startled by the rapid transition in tone and by the unexpected warmth of this woman who had always seemed cold and distant on television.

  In her first few months in office, Clinton took all the calls and welcomed all the visitors her schedule could accommodate from South Africa to Brazil, Lithuania, and Afghanistan. She believed that part of repairing America’s standing in the world meant both reaching out to leaders she had known for years as well as making new connections, to ensure they knew they had access to her. She was making a very conscious investment for the future, when she would need these leaders. And for days on end, grown men would gush and beam at the cameras as they stood next to the politician turned diplomat. If there was one thing Hillary didn’t need to learn, it was how to be in the limelight: she slid seamlessly into the role of a popular secretary of state, reveling in the attention of her foreign counterparts, attention that came with none of the bitter sniping of American politics.

  The world was nearing a state of hysteria as governments everywhere waited for Washington to announce which country Clinton would visit on her maiden voyage as secretary of state. Newspapers around the world were full of speculation and advice about where Secretary Clinton should go first.

  On the seventh floor, Jake Sullivan, Huma Abedin, Philippe Reines, Cheryl Mills, and the deputy secretary of state Jim Steinberg were drawing up a list of options. Europe was a traditional destination for the first visit, but the new administration wanted to signal change. The Middle East was still roiled by the Israeli military campaign code named “Cast Lead” against the radical militant group Hamas in the Palestinian territory of Gaza. The war had erupted in December 2008, right after the American presidential election, and had stopped just before the inauguration. Obama had signaled his commitment to the Middle East on his second day in office, but there was no reason to plunge Clinton into the quagmire of this conflict so quickly when all the talk was still of hope. The options were narrowed down to Afghanistan and Pakistan. Afghanistan was going to be “Obama’s war,” and having its neighbor Pakistan on board to tackle al-Qaeda and the Taliban would be key to any progress. In a town where everyone’s favorite pastime is to speculate about who’s up and who’s down in the administration and in the political world, people were already murmuring about how much power Clinton really had on Obama’s team. Her old friend Richard Holbrooke had just been appointed special representative for Afghanistan and Pakistan, and the Middle East file had been handed over to the quiet former senator from Maine George Mitchell, at Clinton’s own suggestion. A trip to Afghanistan and Pakistan would show the world that Clinton had a say on the big issues. But for some on her team, even these choices were too traditional. The twenty-first century was taking shape in the East. If America wanted to be part of the future, the country needed to up its game in Asia.

  The world was still reeling from the 2008 financial crisis. In her many phone calls to leaders around the world, Hillary had picked up on a strange combination of hope and anxiety. People still wanted American leadership, but the economic crisis had further tarnished the veneer of American invincibility.

  “What is America going to do? What are you going to do about your own economy? If your economy goes down, how many more are you going to take down?” they asked her. Their questions implied more troubling concerns: “What do you stand for? Who are you?”1

  Clinton believed deeply in American leadership. She was pained by the questions, and the world’s perception of her country.

  What better way to signal confidence and try to get the world economy back on track than by sending the chief diplomat of the biggest economy in the world to visit the countries with economy number two, China, and economy number three, Japan? Suddenly, Asia moved to the top of the list. Jeffrey Bader,
the man in charge of Asia at the National Security Council at the White House, had been advocating for this as well, and Hillary needed no further convincing; the choice resonated with her own priorities. During her presidential campaign, she had said America’s ties with China would be the most important bilateral relationship in the world in the twenty-first century. Huma, Jake, Cheryl, and the rest of the team started to painstakingly put together the itinerary. Japan, neglected by the Bush administration, forgotten even by Bill Clinton on his last presidential trip to the region, won top honors: the golden first visit. Indonesia was to be the second stop, followed by South Korea and China. Not since Dean Rusk in 1961 had an American secretary of state chosen Asia for a first trip. Rusk had gone to Thailand.

  The Japanese were ecstatic though surprised, and the foreign ministry was flooded with media inquiries about why Clinton had chosen Tokyo as her first stop. What did it mean? They pored through their records to find out if an American secretary of state had ever chosen to visit Japan first but found nothing. There was no precedent. The Japanese foreign minister then declared the new U.S. administration clearly prioritized the Japan-U.S. alliance, and the visit was a “significant move.” Every country on the itinerary made the exact same declaration. If showing up is half the battle, this battle had already been won before takeoff.

  * * *

  The detailed schedule still had to be fleshed out. What would happen on arrival; whom would she meet; where would she go? Huma and Philippe, the guardians of Hillary’s image, wanted her trips to be different from anything the world had seen before. In the first two years of her tenure, Condoleezza Rice had indulged in town hall meetings with young people and cultural diplomacy events, but overall she conducted her trips like one might conduct business meetings: short jaunts, quick stops, mostly formal talks with officials. But Hillary wasn’t simply a secretary of state: she was Hillary Rodham Clinton. She was a political powerhouse in her own right, and she was bigger than the job of secretary of state—the job would have to fit her, not the other way around.

  The Asian visit was also a key moment for American leadership and the country’s status as a superpower. The world had become allergic to U.S. leadership by the end of the Bush administration. America’s influence was waning, and without relentless work, the new beginning ushered in by Obama’s election would quickly be wasted. The country needed to repair old alliances and build new partnerships around the globe that would help position America once again as a sought-after partner. But in a world deeply interconnected by technology, where popular opinion had increasingly more impact on national policy—even in countries that were not democracies—it was no longer enough to talk to governments. Hillary’s team wanted America to connect with everyday people using twenty-first-century technology, and they were going to deploy their best asset to make that connection: the secretary of state.

  Clinton already had her own style on the road, developed during her tenure as First Lady. She had visited clinics, villages, schools, sat down with women and girls, talked about education, human rights, empowering the disenfranchised. As secretary of state, she wanted to continue engaging with people on a personal level: connecting was what she did best and what she loved doing most. Clinton particularly wanted to use her new position to advance the rights of women and children everywhere, a project that stemmed from her deep belief that the world would never be a better place until half the population was no longer neglected. No matter how many wars, peace efforts, missile launches, or nuclear crises lay ahead, women’s rights had to be part of the agenda. There would be much eye rolling at the State Department for four years, but the men on the team would eventually buy into Hillary’s vision about American smart power.

  Jake, the thirty-two-year-old Yale graduate from Minnesota, was thinking big thoughts with big words, long-term strategies and abstract concepts. He was a brain. His sixty-one-year-old boss was a brain too, but she added her gut instincts and heart. She knew how to translate dry concepts into a language that made sense to real people. Huma and Philippe began to search for the right mix of events for this new campaign for America, a combination of public diplomacy and traditional foreign policy that would ensure Hillary did not appear as though she was slipping back into the soft role of a First Lady. Together, with Jake, they were going to expand the frontiers of American power and beam Hillary into living rooms, computer screens, and Twitter feeds everywhere. They were going to make the discussion about American foreign policy accessible to everyone.

  * * *

  A few weeks after Clinton’s arrival in the Building, it was time for her team to consult the occupants of Room 6205. The Asia experts, the bureau deputies, the desk directors for each country on the itinerary were taken aback when they were asked to contribute ideas for the agenda and schedule of the trip. Where should Clinton hold a town hall in Seoul? Who should she meet in Tokyo? Which television show was most popular in Indonesia? No one had consulted them for a while, it seemed. The final word on foreign policy decisions has always come from the White House, but the decision-making process can include varying levels of input from the State Department. Rice, a former national security advisor, had relied little on the Building, and Colin Powell had often been left out of the process.

  When she had stood in the mezzanine on the day of her arrival, Clinton had promised to look for everyone’s input, but no one had really expected she would tap them all. Clinton wanted to use the Building’s considerable brain power and years of experience to inform her own decision making, and—perhaps learning from her past mistakes—she wanted to be inclusive. Just as they had expected her to be a prima donna in the Senate, so too people at the State Department were bracing for a diva. Instead, she was the one pouring the coffee.

  The meetings under the new leadership were yet another surprise. After eight years out of office, Democrats seemed out of practice when it came to the daily business of government. Rice and Powell ran meetings with military precision; schedules were final unless a crisis erupted and plans were set well in advance. The newcomers ran their meetings like cocktail parties—filled with lots of air kissing and talking, the gatherings often ran overtime, and there was not always a clear action plan at the end.

  * * *

  The Democrats had also arrived en masse in Washington. America was proud to have elected its first African American president, but it was also divided: just over half the population had voted for Obama. But as the Obama’ites descended onto the capital, they found a city that seemed in the grip of the same euphoria that had swept the world on election night. Around town, folks excitedly reported sightings of Obama administration officials who had attained mythical status. David Axelrod, the brain behind the campaign, was seen having brunch at Commissary, a popular restaurant just east of Dupont Circle. BlackBerries beeped and vibrated everywhere as the news spread like wildfire. The White House chief of staff Rahm Emanuel was swimming at the YMCA at five in the morning. Or was it Timothy Geithner? Was that Obama’s speechwriter Jon Favreau moving in next door? Was he really only twenty-seven? How many profiles of the Obama team could you run in a week in the New York Times?

  Washington is a quiet, provincial town with Parisian-like avenues lined with trees, hundreds of federal employees in ill-fitting suits, and barely a handful of memorable restaurants. But with the arrival of Obama and his entourage, the capital of the world’s superpower was suddenly the new capital of cool. Everyone wanted to move to the District and be part of history. Every evening, anxious journalists watched their in-boxes for the e-mails sent out by the White House with the schedule of the president for the next day. He was going to attend a service at the National Cathedral; he was going to sign an executive order to close the detention facility at Guantánamo Bay; he was going to visit members of Congress on Capitol Hill. For months, every Daily Guidance e-mail sent reporters around the city into a tizzy.

  The second week of February rolled around, and in the Building Hillary’s Asia schedule was fi
nalized. Well, almost. Either way, a plane with a State Department seal attached to its door with Velcro was waiting on the tarmac of the Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland for a Special Air Mission.

  2

  HILLARY RECONQUERS THE WORLD

  Around midmorning on the Sunday after Valentine’s Day 2009, the Building stood deserted. But unlike most Sundays, there was some quiet activity inside a windowless office on the seventh floor behind a heavy, cream-colored door that looked as if it should open a bank vault. Two young people in suits were stacking up thick white binders of papers and making sure their black rolling cases were stocked with all the highlighters, staplers, and pens they might need.

  Outside the Building’s empty lobby, several dozen people chatted, standing next to suitcases. Six hulking black vans waited at the curb. A woman ticked the names of those present off her list and distributed yellow cabin-bag tags. Forty passports were packed into a shiny metal case, in the safe hands of Lew Lukens, the logistics guru. Something about the preparations felt like a guided bus trip around the capital, but there were no tourists snapping photos here. This was how the State Department officials and the contingent of reporters who followed the secretary on her trips abroad traveled—in a pack, or, as we called it, the Bubble. We did have guides at all times, Caroline Adler, Ashley Yehl, and Nick Merrill, and they were waiting for us outside the Building already. They worked with Philippe to make sure that we had everything we needed to write our stories about American foreign policy and Clinton. Detailed schedules included mentions of where we could get access to Wi-Fi Internet, and for endless days of diplomacy in faraway lands there were even mentions of where our best or last chance was for a restroom visit.