Originally published in 1983, Seymour Hersh's formidable The Price of Power remains the definitive indictment of Henry Kissinger. Hersh compiles a decade’s worth of interviews and exhaustive research into a damning account of Kissinger and Richard Nixon’s warped pas de deux between 1969 to 1974. Everything liberals and leftists ever suspected about the dark contours of Nixon’s foreign policy (and Kissinger’s role therein) was exposed here: Kissinger’s role in sabotaging the Paris peace talks just before the ‘68 election, acting as a “double-agent” funneling information from Hubert Humphrey’s campaign and diplomats in Paris, is laid out in stunning detail. Hersh shows that Kissinger, far from a brilliant diplomat, is an amoral opportunist who gained power by playing to the insecurities of Nixon, who alternately loathed and needed this suave, Harvard-educated “Jew boy” to affect his own designs. Nixon, at least, could be afforded credit for some idealism (however debased in practice) as a sincere peacemaker; Kissinger, Hersh convincingly argues, deserves no such recognition.
The list of abuses comes fast, thick and numbing. Nixon allows Kissinger, as National Security Adviser, to short-circuit traditional power structures. Secretary of State William Rogers (a pathetic, empty shell who endures endless humiliations) is cut out of the loop on nearly all important decisions; Defense Secretary Melvin Laird (a wily pragmatist who served as Kissinger’s foil) is spied on, harassed and humiliated by the White House. Kissinger orders wiretaps on his own staff, humiliates them in public and private, all the while cultivating his image as a dynamic thinker and witty bon vivant with reporters, academics, movie stars and liberal politicians (many of whom he also wiretapped). Though Kissinger escapes Watergate with no direct taint, he helps set in motion the paranoia, obsession with secrecy and extralegal activity that triggered his boss’s downfall (no coincidence that David Young, once a Kissinger aide, became co-director of the White House Plumbers). "The illegal we do immediately,” Kissinger supposedly said; “the unconstitutional takes a little longer.” He had ample opportunity for both.
All this before reaching Kissinger’s foreign policy! Far from a brilliant diplomat, Kissinger emerges as a near-sociopath, conniving in Nixon’s “Madman Theory” of bombing Vietnam to the Stone Age. He encourages Nixon’s secret bombing of Cambodia, over the objections of Rogers, Laird and others; he overrides advice from staffers to invade that neutral country (along with further misadventures in Laos), setting it on the path to genocide. In the Middle East, he short-circuits Rogers’ efforts at diplomacy, partially due to genuine misreading of Arab and Israeli intentions and partly out of spite towards his rival. Kissinger and Nixon connive in the overthrow of Salvador Allende in Chile; support the brutal Colonel’s junta in Greece; nearly provoke a nuclear war with the USSR over a submarine base in Cuba; disregarding diplomatic warnings of genocide in Bangladesh to aid Pakistan’s Yahya Khan in his war with India (due to Khan’s role in negotiating the China opening). The list goes on and on, the crimes staggering, the death toll unimaginable.
Hersh makes no secret about his biases; the worst that can be said is that he overstates his arguments. He grants Kissinger too much autonomy, downplaying how much Nixon micromanaged foreign policy himself, often ignoring even Kissinger’s advice. He also grants Kissinger almost no credit for his successes. Even Kissinger’s biggest detractors will generally give him and Nixon credit for the SALT I treaty with the USSR and the China opening. Hersh is loathe to do either; his portrayal of SALT as a failure (relying heavily on the memoirs of Gerard C. Smith, the embittered chief negotiator) provide the book’s least persuasive arguments, focusing on the failure to outlaw MIRV missiles and not the other reductions that provided a real, if temporary, step towards peace. Similarly, Nixon’s visit to China was an epochal event that opened up the world’s biggest country and massively thawed the Cold War. It’s not unfair for Hersh to show that Nixon’s road to Beijing was paved in blood (particularly through Vietnam and Bangladesh); but it’s a bit much to treat the achievement as no achievement all.
These shortcomings provide a reader pause; it’s also frustrating that the book ends with Nixon’s reelection, avoiding the Yom Kippur War, Watergate and Kissinger’s further misadventures under Gerald Ford. But these flaws don’t damage the overall structure. The Price of Power has informed decades of leftist critique, enhanced by future authors Gary Bass, Greg Grandin and Christopher Hitchens, while White House tapes and documents declassified in subsequent decades enhance its findings (recent disclosures about the nuclear alert of October 1969, only glanced at here, and the apocalyptic “Duck Hook” plan in Vietnam make Hersh seem, if anything, generous). More sympathetic biographers, from Walter Isaacson to Niall Ferguson, have softened the edges of Hersh’s portrait and punctured holes in his weaker arguments; certainly, Kissinger shrugged off this book, remaining a respected elder statesman well into his 90s. Yet Hersh’s essential theses - of Nixon’s White House as a madhouse, Nixon as Madman in Chief and Kissinger as Destroyer of the Third World - remain chillingly persuasive, his book a voluminous indictment largely unanswered and impossible to dismiss.