Authors: Kim Ghattas
“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 finalized. 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.