State of Terror

by Hillary Rodham Clinton

“Just one more question, Mr. Dahir. What’s the Secretary’s Dilemma?” “It’s a mathematical problem, Madame Secretary.” “What sort of problem?” She sat in Frankfurt and looked at him on the monitor. “It’s about when to stop,” said Irfan. “Stop what?” “Stop looking for a house, a spouse, a job. A secretary,” he said. “Knowing when you’ve found the right one. The best one. Or do you always question if a better one is out there? As long as you’re doing that, no progress is possible. A decision must be made, even if it’s imperfect. When I was in Tehran, during the revolution, I saw too much. Too many things that didn’t line up with all I’d been taught about Islam. But at what stage do I leave? Iran was my home. All my family and friends were there. I loved Iran. So how far is too far? When do I make that commitment to leave, knowing there was no going back?” “And when did you?” asked Ellen. “When I saw that the new regime was as bad, if not worse, as the old. And if I stayed, I would be too.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tim Beecham shift, as though anxious for this conversation to end. “There’s actually an equation for that?” she asked Dahir. “Yes. Though as with many things, we can do the sums, and those might be helpful, but finally it comes down to instinct.” He paused, and his dark, sad eyes held hers. “And courage, Madame Secretary.” The Secretary’s Dilemma, thought Ellen. She understood.