After greeting my team, I walked into my private office and sat down at my desk for the first time. A letter from my predecessor, Secretary Rice, sat waiting for me. The walls of this inner office were paneled in the northern cherrywood chosen by former Secretary George Shultz, giving the small room a cozy feel very different from the grand outer office where I would receive visitors. Three phones sat on the desk, including direct lines to the White House, Pentagon, and CIA. I added a couch where I could read comfortably, even nap occasionally, and in the adjoining room there was a small kitchen and bathroom, complete with a shower.
Soon this office would become my second home, where I would spend many hours on the phone with foreign leaders while I paced the small room. But for now, on this first day, I just soaked it up.
I picked up the letter from Condi and opened it. It was brief, warm, and heartfelt. She wrote that being Secretary of State was “the best job in government” and that she was confident she was leaving the Department in good hands. “You have the most important qualification for this job—you love this country deeply.” I was touched by her words.
I couldn’t wait to get started.
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PART TWO
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Across the Pacific
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Asia: The Pivot
My motorcade made its way through the quiet streets of Andrews Air Force Base on a bright Sunday in mid-February 2009. We rolled past guard booths, homes, and hangars, and then out onto the vast concrete expanse of the tarmac. I was embarking on my first journey as Secretary of State. The cars came to a stop beside a blue and white U.S. Air Force Boeing 757, fitted with enough advanced communications gear to coordinate global diplomacy from anywhere in the world. Emblazoned on the side, in large black letters, were the words “United States of America.” I got out of the car, paused, and took it all in.
As First Lady I had flown around the world with Bill in Air Force One, the largest and grandest of government jets. I had also traveled extensively on my own, usually in a 757 much like this one, and on a variety of smaller planes as a Senator participating in Congressional delegations to places such as Iraq, Afghanistan, and Pakistan. But none of those experiences could prepare me for what it would be like to spend more than two thousand hours in the air over four years, traveling nearly a million miles. That’s eighty-seven full days of recycled air and the steady vibration of twin turbofan engines propelling us forward at more than 500 miles per hour. This plane was also a powerful symbol of the nation I was honored to represent. No matter how many miles we logged or countries we visited, I never lost my sense of pride at seeing those iconic blue and white colors lit up on some far-off runway.
Inside the plane, to my left, Air Force officers were busy in a cabin full of computers and communications equipment. Beyond them the pilots performed their final checks. To the right, a narrow hallway led to my personal compartment, with a small desk, a pullout couch, a bathroom and closet, and secure and nonsecure phones.
Further on was the main cabin, which was divided into three sections for staff, security, and press and Air Force personnel. In the first section were two tables, each with four leather chairs facing each other, as in some train compartments. On one table, State Department Foreign Service officers set up a traveling office, linked to the Operations Center back in Foggy Bottom and capable of preparing everything from classified cables to detailed daily schedules, all at thirty thousand feet. Across the aisle my senior staff set up their laptops, worked the phones, or tried to get a little sleep between stops. The tables were usually covered with thick briefing books and marked-up speech drafts, but you’d often see copies of People magazine and US Weekly peeking out from underneath the official papers.
The middle section of the plane looked like a standard business-class cabin on any domestic flight. The seats were filled with policy experts from relevant State Department bureaus, colleagues from the White House and the Pentagon, a translator, and several Diplomatic Security agents. Next came the press cabin, for the journalists and camera crews who reported on our journeys.
At the back were the Air Force flight attendants who prepared our meals and always took good care of us. That was not easy when everyone’s food preferences and sleep patterns were out of sync most of the time. The flight crew shopped for provisions in the countries we visited, which allowed for some unexpected treats, like Oaxaca cheese in Mexico, smoked salmon in Ireland, and tropical fruit in Cambodia. But wherever we were, we could still count on finding staff favorites on the menu, like the Air Force’s famous turkey taco salad.
This packed metal tube became our home in the sky. I told the staff to dress casually, sleep as much as possible, and do whatever they could to stay sane and healthy amid the rigors of a grueling schedule. Over those two thousand hours in the air, we would celebrate birthdays, see distinguished diplomats weeping over soapy romantic comedies (and try and fail not to tease them for it), and marvel at Richard Holbrooke’s bright yellow pajamas that he called his “sleeping suit.”
On most flights the team carved out a lot of work time, and so did I. But at the end of a long international tour there was a palpable sense of relief and relaxation on the flight home. We’d enjoy a glass of wine, watch movies, and swap stories. On one of those flights we watched Breach, a film about Robert Hanssen, an FBI agent who spied for the Russians in the 1980s and ’90s. In one scene the Hanssen character complains, “Can’t trust a woman in a pantsuit. Men wear the pants. The world doesn’t need any more Hillary Clintons.” The whole plane burst into laughter.
The plane broke down on a number of occasions. Once, stranded in Saudi Arabia with mechanical difficulties, I managed to hitch a ride home with General David Petraeus, who happened to be passing through the region. Dave generously offered me his cabin and sat with his staff. In the middle of the night we stopped to refuel at an Air Force base in Germany. Dave got off the plane and headed right to the base’s gym, where he worked out for an hour, and then we were off and flying again.
On that first trip in February 2009, I walked to the back of the plane, where the journalists were settling into their seats. Many had covered previous Secretaries of State and were reminiscing about past travels and speculating about what they could expect from this new Secretary.
Some of my advisors had suggested I use my first trip to begin healing the transatlantic rifts that opened up during the Bush Administration by heading to Europe. Others suggested Afghanistan, where U.S. troops were battling a difficult insurgency. Colin Powell’s first stop had been Mexico, our nearest southern neighbor, which also made a lot of sense. Warren Christopher had gone to the Middle East, which continued to demand concentrated attention. But Jim Steinberg, my new Deputy, suggested Asia, where we expected much of the history of the 21st century to be written. I decided he was right, so I was breaking with precedent and heading first to Japan, then on to Indonesia, South Korea, and finally China. We needed to send a message to Asia and the world that America was back.
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By the time I became Secretary, I had come to believe the United States had to do more to help shape the future of Asia and manage our increasingly complex relationship with China. The trajectory of the global economy and our own prosperity, the advance of democracy and human rights, and our hopes for a 21st century less bloody than the 20th all hinged to a large degree on what happened in the Asia-Pacific. This vast region, from the Indian Ocean to the tiny island nations of the Pacific, is home to more than half the world’s population, several of our most trusted allies and valuable trading partners, and many of the world’s most dynamic trade and energy routes. U.S. exports to the region helped spur our economic recovery in the wake of the recession, and our future growth depends on reaching further into Asia’s expanding middle-class consumer base. Asia is also the source of real threats to our own security, m
ost notably from North Korea’s unpredictable dictatorship.
The rise of China is one of the most consequential strategic developments of our time. It is a country full of contradictions: an increasingly rich and influential nation that has moved hundreds of millions of people out of poverty, and an authoritarian regime trying to paper over its serious domestic challenges, with around 100 million people still living on a dollar or less a day. It’s the world’s largest producer of solar panels and also the largest emitter of greenhouse gases, with some of the world’s worst urban air pollution. Eager to play a major role on the global stage but determined to act unilaterally in dealing with its neighbors, China remains reluctant to question other nations’ internal affairs, even in extreme circumstances.
As a Senator, I argued that the United States would have to deal with a rising China and its growing economic, diplomatic, and military power in a careful, disciplined way. In the past, the emergence of new powers has rarely come without friction. In this case the situation was particularly complicated because of how interdependent our economies were becoming. In 2007, trade between the United States and China surpassed $387 billion; in 2013, it reached $562 billion. The Chinese held vast amounts of U.S. Treasury bonds, which meant we were deeply invested in each other’s economic success. As a consequence, we both shared a strong interest in maintaining stability in Asia and around the world and in ensuring the steady flow of energy and trade. Yet beyond these shared interests, our values and worldviews often diverged; we saw it in old flash points like North Korea, Taiwan, Tibet, and human rights, and newly important ones such as climate change and disputes in the South and East China Seas.
All this made for a difficult balancing act. We needed a sophisticated strategy that encouraged China to participate as a responsible member of the international community, while standing firm in defense of our values and interests. This was a theme I carried through my campaign for President in 2008, arguing that the United States had to know both how to find common ground and how to stand our ground. I emphasized the importance of convincing China to play by the rules in the global marketplace by dropping discriminatory trade practices, allowing the value of its currency to rise, and preventing tainted food and goods from reaching consumers around the world, such as the toys contaminated by toxic lead paint that had ended up in the hands of American children. The world needed responsible leadership from China to make real headway on climate change, to prevent conflict on the Korean Peninsula, and to address many other regional and global challenges, so it wasn’t in our interests to turn Beijing into a new Cold War boogeyman. Instead we needed to find a formula to manage competition and foster cooperation.
Under the leadership of Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson, the Bush Administration started a high-level economic dialogue with China that made progress on some important trade issues, but these talks remained separate from broader strategic and security discussions. Many in the region felt that the administration’s focus on Iraq, Afghanistan, and the Middle East led to disengagement from America’s traditional leadership role in Asia. Some of those concerns were overstated, but the perception was a problem in and of itself. I thought we ought to broaden our engagement with China and put the Asia-Pacific at the top of our diplomatic agenda.
Jim Steinberg and I quickly agreed that the person who should run the State Department’s Bureau of East Asian and Pacific Affairs was Dr. Kurt Campbell. Kurt, who helped shape Asia policy at the Pentagon and the National Security Council during the Clinton Administration, became a key architect of our strategy. Besides being a creative strategic thinker and devoted public servant, he was also an irrepressible traveling companion, fond of pranks and never without a joke or a story.
During my first days on the job, I made a round of calls to key Asian leaders. One of my more candid exchanges was with Foreign Minister Stephen Smith of Australia. His boss, Prime Minister Kevin Rudd, spoke Mandarin and had a clear-eyed view of the opportunities and challenges of China’s rise. Rich in natural resources, Australia was profiting by supplying China’s industrial boom with minerals and other raw materials. China became Australia’s largest trading partner, surpassing Japan and the United States. But Rudd also understood that peace and security in the Pacific depended on American leadership, and he put great value on the historic ties between our countries. The last thing he wanted was to see America withdraw from or lose influence in Asia. In that first call, Smith expressed his and Rudd’s hope that the Obama Administration would “more deeply engage with Asia.” I told him that was right in line with my own thinking and that I looked forward to a close partnership. Australia became a key ally in our Asian strategy over the coming years, under both Rudd and his successor, Prime Minister Julia Gillard.
Its neighbor New Zealand presented more of a challenge. For twenty-five years, since New Zealand prohibited all nuclear vessels from visiting their home ports, the United States and New Zealand had had a limited relationship. However, I thought our long friendship and mutual interests created a diplomatic opening for bridging the divide and shaping a new relationship between Wellington and Washington. On my visit in 2010, I signed the Wellington Declaration with Prime Minister John Key, which committed our nations to work more closely together in Asia, the Pacific, and multilateral organizations. In 2012, Secretary of Defense Leon Panetta would rescind the twenty-six-year ban on New Zealand’s ships docking at American bases. In global politics, sometimes reaching out to an old friend can be as rewarding as making a new one.
All my calls with Asian leaders that first week reinforced my belief that we needed a new approach in the region. Jim and I consulted with experts about various possibilities. One option was to focus on broadening our relationship with China, on the theory that if we could get our China policy right, the rest of our work in Asia would be much easier. An alternative was to concentrate our efforts on strengthening America’s treaty alliances in the region (with Japan, South Korea, Thailand, the Philippines, and Australia), providing a counterbalance to China’s growing power.
A third approach was to elevate and harmonize the alphabet soup of regional multilateral organizations, such as ASEAN (the Association of Southeast Asian Nations) and APEC (the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation organization). Nobody was expecting anything as coherent as the European Union to spring up overnight, but other regions had learned important lessons about the value of well-organized multinational institutions. They could provide a venue for every nation and point of view to be heard and offer opportunities for nations to work together on shared challenges, resolve their disagreements, establish rules and standards of behavior, reward responsible countries with legitimacy and respect, and help hold accountable those who violated the rules. If Asia’s multilateral institutions were supported and modernized, they could strengthen regional norms on everything from intellectual property rights to nuclear proliferation to freedom of navigation, and mobilize action on challenges like climate change and piracy. This kind of methodical multilateral diplomacy is often slow and frustrating, rarely making headlines at home, but it can pay real dividends that affect the lives of millions of people.
In keeping with the position I had staked out as a Senator and Presidential candidate, I decided that the smart power choice was to meld all three approaches. We would show that America was “all in” when it came to Asia. I was prepared to lead the way, but success would require buy-in from our entire government, beginning with the White House.
The President shared my determination to make Asia a focal point of the administration’s foreign policy. Born in Hawaii, and having spent formative years in Indonesia, he felt a strong personal connection to the region and understood its significance. At his direction, the National Security Council staff, led by General Jim Jones, along with Tom Donilon and their Asia expert, Jeff Bader, supported our strategy. Over the next four years we practiced what I called “forward-deployed diplomacy” in Asia, borrowing a term from our military colleagues. We quickened
the pace and widened the scope of our diplomatic engagement across the region, dispatching senior officials and development experts far and wide, participating more fully in multilateral organizations, reaffirming our traditional alliances, and reaching out to new strategic partners. Because personal relationships and gestures of respect are deeply significant in Asia, I made it a priority to visit almost every nation in the region. My travels would eventually take me from one of the smallest Pacific islands to the home of a long-imprisoned Nobel Peace laureate to the edge of the most heavily guarded border in the world.
Over four years, I delivered a series of speeches explaining our strategy and making the case for why the Asia-Pacific deserved greater attention from the U.S. government. In the summer of 2011, I began working on a long essay that would situate our work in the region in the broader sweep of American foreign policy. The war in Iraq was winding down, and a transition was under way in Afghanistan. After a decade of focusing on the areas of greatest threat, we had come to a “pivot point.” Of course, we had to stay focused on the threats that remained, but it was also time to do more in the areas of greatest opportunity.
Foreign Policy magazine published my essay in the fall under the title “America’s Pacific Century,” but it was the word pivot that gained prominence. Journalists latched on to it as an evocative description of the administration’s renewed emphasis on Asia, although many in our own government preferred the more anodyne rebalance to Asia. Some friends and allies in other parts of the world were understandably concerned that the phrase implied turning our back on them, but we worked to make clear that America had the reach and resolve to pivot to Asia without pivoting away from other obligations and opportunities.
Hard Choices Page 6