Years of Renewal By Henry Kissinger (1999)
Henry Kissinger's Years of Renewal completes his memoir trilogy covering the final years of the Nixon administration and the Ford presidency from 1974 to 1977. This massive volume combines insider chronicle, policy justification, and character study to defend the controversial foreign policies Kissinger championed during America's most tumultuous postwar decade. Written with the retrospective wisdom of two decades and the unapologetic confidence of a man convinced history will vindicate him, the book offers invaluable insight into high-level diplomacy while revealing the author's fundamental inability to acknowledge that his critics might have had legitimate moral concerns rather than mere political spite.
The Nixon Tragedy
Kissinger opens with an extended psychological portrait of Richard Nixon that reads like Greek tragedy filtered through the sensibility of a European realist uncomfortable with American moralism. Nixon "combined intelligence, patriotism, and courage with self-destructive flaws," a man who "understood foreign policy better than almost any other practicing political figure of his era" yet remained on "a hopeless quest to elicit the adulation of those he identified as the eastern establishment."
The portrait contains genuine insight. Nixon was "obsessively incapable of overruling an interlocutor or even disagreeing with him" face to face. His "emotional resistance to having to disappoint a supplicant was so great that there was always the danger of being saddled with some unfulfilled promise." Yet "in China, Nixon conducted the American side of the dialogue thoughtfully, analytically and eloquently without any notes." He "was at his best in written policy memoranda."
Kissinger notes with clinical precision that Nixon "could not hold even a small quantity of alcohol. Two glasses of wine were enough to make him boisterous; one more made him grow bellicose with slurred speech." The president had "travelled many roads, but he never managed to discover where he really belonged."
This psychological acuity serves Kissinger's larger purpose: to separate Nixon's policy achievements from his personal catastrophe. "By the summer of 1974 when Gerald Ford took over, Nixon's foreign policy had become nearly as controversial as his personality." Yet Kissinger insists the policies themselves were sound, undermined only by Watergate and domestic opposition he characterizes as fundamentally illegitimate.
The Indictment of American Liberalism
The book's most revealing passages concern not foreign policy but Kissinger's contempt for his domestic critics. This contempt runs deep and is expressed with sustained vehemence.
The "veterans of the Vietnam protest movement" were "committed to the proposition that foreign policy was a morality play." Wilsonianism represented "the unprecedented theory that wars are caused not so much by struggles for power as that these struggles reflect domestic moral failings." After Vietnam, "isolationism took the form of the proposition that we were too depraved to participate in international politics."
The "radical protesters preferred humiliation to honor, or more precisely equated humiliation with honor." They "considered the very terms honor and credibility abominations." Liberal critics "wished to extirpate the Vietnam War from their consciousness and to submerge their mistakes in collective amnesia."
Kissinger argues that liberals who had "advocated greater East-West contacts, arms control and increased trade for at least a decade" opposed these same policies under Nixon purely from partisan spite. "Under the leadership of any president other than Nixon they probably would have eventually endorsed the policies, but Nixon had been anathema to the liberal community for more than two decades. The blood feud ran too deep."
Kissinger cannot conceive that opposition to his policies might stem from genuine moral conviction rather than partisan calculation or psychological inadequacy. The possibility that reasonable people might object to supporting dictatorships, conducting secret wars, or prioritizing geopolitical advantage over human rights simply does not register as legitimate disagreement.
The Vindication of Gerald Ford
Ford emerges as Kissinger's ideal leader: competent, decisive, uncomplicated. "With Ford what one saw was what one got." He "never lost his temper." His Grand Rapids staff "lacked the energy and surely the malice of their counterparts in the Nixon White House." Unlike Nixon's obsessive insecurity, Ford projected straightforward competence.
Yet even this praise contains condescension. Modern leaders are "far more concerned with what to say than with what to think." They "too frequently fail to fulfill the role for which they are needed most: to provide emotional analysis when experience is being challenged by ever accelerating change." Emulating Kennedy, being articulate "is not the same as having analytical skill."
Kissinger's portrait of Ford's team proves more interesting than his treatment of Ford himself. Donald Rumsfeld was "a special Washington phenomenon: the skilled full-time politician-bureaucrat in whom ambition, ability, and substance fuse seamlessly." He "had the makings of a strong president, but somewhere along the way this talented political leader abandoned his quest for power."
Nelson Rockefeller represented "the last generation of politician who emphasized substance over electoral technique." He thought "higher office had to be earned by advancing the best program. He had never heard of focus groups." Rockefeller believed that "presidents are overwhelmed with problems. Your obligation is to help them find solutions."
James Schlesinger as Secretary of Defense proved more problematic. Ford concluded that "Schlesinger just thinks I am stupid and he believes Kissinger is running me. This conflict will not end until I either fire Jim or make him believe he is running me. A few months later Ford chose the first option."
The State Department Problem
Kissinger's treatment of the State Department reveals the bureaucratic infighting that characterized his tenure. William Rogers "was not sufficiently well versed in foreign policy to be the principal negotiator and he was too prominent a figure to be merely the principal spokesman with Congress and the media." Once State Department officials "caught on to what Nixon and Kissinger did in China, it became apparent that hell hath no fury like a bypassed negotiator."
The critique cuts both ways. Kissinger complains that "from Nixon's point of view, once the president had rejected the State Department position, the debate should have ended. Instead it was moved by leaks into the media and Congress." Yet he simultaneously acknowledges that "diplomats are more likely to be told what to say than why they should say it. Tactics and domestic politics substitute for strategy."
His more general observation proves accurate: "In the absence of an impetus from a determined Secretary of State or from the White House, the State Department is better at dealing with day-to-day problems than at developing long-range designs." And regarding Washington generally: "The typical Washington internal debate is rarely if ever finally settled."
The Congressional Rebellion
Kissinger devotes extensive attention to what he characterizes as congressional usurpation of executive prerogatives. The pattern began with "Jackson-Vanik and the Stevenson amendments severely restricting trade and credits to the Soviet Union, the cut-off of aid to Indochina, the prohibition against assistance to Angola, and a host of restrictions on various other activities."
His specific examples reveal genuine absurdity. "Congressional micromanagement went so far that Congress voted anti-aircraft missiles for Jordan only on the condition that they be in fixed positions. Refusal to provide wheels was more humiliating than meaningful because King Hussein had no problem acquiring such wheels in the markets of the Arab world."
Yet Kissinger cannot acknowledge that congressional assertiveness followed precisely from executive deception and overreach. "During Vietnam, Congress had been reluctant to legislate specific courses of action and instead issued 'sense of Congress' resolutions expressing Congress's point of view without assuming responsibility. As Watergate gained momentum, Congress shed these restraints."
On Angola, Senator Joseph Biden "put forward with disarming frankness an explanation for why senators objected in December to what they had approved in July." In other words, "senators would have acquiesced in the program so long as the public did not know. They would run for cover once it became public and they were needed to defend their previous positions."
This reveals congressional cowardice but also the fundamental problem with Kissinger's approach: foreign policy conducted through deception and secrecy cannot sustain democratic accountability. America "abdicated on Angola on December 19, 1975 when the Senate passed the Tunney amendment banning any use of funds for Angola unless specifically appropriated." Cuban troops "remained in Angola for another 15 years and spread into Ethiopia, Somalia and South Yemen in the Carter administration."
The Intelligence Debacle
Kissinger's treatment of CIA Director William Colby reveals the tensions between security and accountability in the post-Watergate era. Before Colby became director, "leaks from the CIA had never been a major problem." Colby proved "either unable or unwilling to stem leaks from his agency." After a major leak, Colby "formally absolved his subordinates of the secrecy oaths they had sworn upon entering the service, making the disclosure of national secrets depend almost entirely on the judgment of individual CIA employees."
This made Colby a "runaway CIA director." On organizational charts "the CIA director is clearly and directly subordinate to the president, but when the president decides he can't fire the director, the organizational chart becomes purely academic."
The Church Committee investigation suffered from "the natural affinity of senators for publicity." Senator Church "claimed the CIA was a rogue elephant out of control," though "the facts exonerated the CIA, which has never assassinated a foreign leader, although in the case of Castro not for lack of trying or presidential orders." In March 1979, Senator Patrick Moynihan claimed "there is no intelligence agency of any consequence left within the United States government."
Kissinger's outrage at congressional overreach proves justified in specifics while missing the larger point: covert operations on the scale of Guatemala, the Bay of Pigs, Laos, and Kurdistan "differed from classical covert intelligence operations in that they were not really secret." Democratic oversight had collapsed, requiring correction even at cost to operational effectiveness.
The Vietnam Endgame
On Vietnam, Kissinger remains utterly unrepentant. "Our predecessors had launched the United States in an enterprise in a distant region for worthy causes but without adequately assessing the national interest and the likely cost." Nixon's team "found no plans for withdrawal nor White House-approved negotiating strategy. Yet as soon as they left office, the very people who had saddled the Nixon administration with these tragic dilemmas either acted as if they were innocent bystanders or, more frequently, began harassing the next administration for failing to achieve in four months what they had never endeavored to accomplish in four years."
By 1972, "Nixon had withdrawn over 500,000 troops and reduced casualties from 14,600 in 1968 to 300 in 1972. Yet Nixon was accused of killing Americans needlessly." The "smug and disastrously wrong theme that nothing could be worse for the Cambodian people than a continuation of American military aid was pervasive." The assumption "that a cut-off of arms aid would end the suffering was treated as self-evident."
This ignores the fundamental question: whether the war's continuation served any achievable American interest, and if not, how to extract the U.S. without destroying its international credibility. The anti-war movement's "basic theme that American power itself was a source of evil in the world."
The Mayaguez Incident
The May 1975 seizure of the merchant ship Mayaguez by Cambodia provides Kissinger a case study in Ford's decisiveness. When Colby provided intelligence, "the information we received was meticulously precise. Some confusion was expected, but totally inaccurate precision was harder to explain."
Ford declared: "I can assure you that irrespective of the Congress we will move." Kissinger interprets this as "the beginning of the Defense Department's position that it would not take any position that could later be criticized as had happened in Vietnam." The incident demonstrated Ford's willingness to act decisively in ways that foreshadowed Reagan's approach to executive power.
Arms Control and Détente
Kissinger provides extensive detail on SALT negotiations and the Vladivostok meeting with the Soviets. In 1962, "McNamara adopted the strategy of mutual assured destruction, this essentially academic concept supposed unlimited willingness to threaten civilian casualties. This professorial strategy calculated everything except the willingness to resort to it."
The Nixon administration "achieved some leverage by means of the ironic fact that Soviet leaders turned out to have more confidence in American technology than did our domestic critics." Yet "liberal frustrations with Nixon merged with the conservative distrust of any deal with the Soviet Union."
Senator Scoop Jackson worked the problem of Soviet Jewish emigration, raising numbers "from 400 in 1968 to 35,000 in 1972." Gromyko "agreed to a target of perhaps 45,000 but added the Soviet government would stop short of forcing its citizens to emigrate to please the American Congress."
The governing triumvirate in Moscow "resembled a cluster of semi-extinct volcanoes. Brezhnev's blustering joviality was never sufficient to obscure his latent insecurity. Kosygin was a sardonic bureaucratic manipulator and Podgorny was uninterested in foreign policy." After détente collapsed, "Brezhnev, by then increasingly debilitated by a series of strokes, began to project Soviet military capacity into Africa, South Yemen and Afghanistan."
Gorbachev's later "insoluble quandary was that the Soviet system could not survive without reform yet had become too arteriosclerotic to survive the reform process itself."
Character Studies
Kissinger's portraits reveal his values through both praise and criticism. Senator Hubert Humphrey possessed "an eloquence that seemed to have no natural limit. It was said of him that he once spoke at a tree planting ceremony and by the time he was finished he was standing in its shade. He was as intelligent as he was loquacious."
J. William Fulbright restrained "his customary harassment to the absolute minimum needed to maintain his liberal standing." Jacob Javits took "a trip to Cuba in violation of existing government policy. I did not mind his going. What bothered me was that he came back."
Scoop Jackson "viewed a retreat from the outrageous to the impossible as a great concession." A Dutch pacifist visiting the White House "had obviously been briefed to avoid being provocative, a feat he never quite managed."
Prime Minister Heath "was the only British leader I encountered who not only failed to cultivate the special relationship but actually sought to downgrade it." Tom Enders suffered from a problem where "humility was not one of his distinguishing characteristics." Eagleburger said "Tom was the only 6-foot-7-inch man who suffered from a Napoleonic complex."
Latin America and Human Rights
Kissinger's treatment of Pinochet IS revealing. "The European left's venomous hatred of Pinochet was not matched by any comparable condemnation of Castro or of the truly brutal regime in Vietnam."
Senator Ted Kennedy "stressed that the trade embargo on Cuba had been a mistake and called for the United States to normalize relations with Cuba." Castro "despised the advocates of détente in the Kremlin for having sacrificed ideology to expediency."
The Bureaucratic Reality
The book's most valuable contributions concern the mechanics of government. "In a large bureaucracy, the danger of being submerged in detail, of emphasizing the urgent over the important, is ever present." When "the State Department bureaucracy chooses not to oppose frontally a policy with which it disagrees, it deploys its masterful skills in evasion."
"It is axiomatic that those who have not participated in the give and take of the diplomatic process become the heroes of retrospective analysis." The "capacity to conduct foreign policy in Washington and to be effective abroad does not depend on organization charts alone or even primarily. It is largely a question of who is perceived to enjoy the confidence of the president."
"The Washington bureaucratic process thrives on adversarial procedures. The president can operate at best if he takes a middle position between conflicting points of view."
Critical Assessment
Years of Renewal succeeds as insider history but fails as self-justification. Kissinger's access to deliberations, his portraits of leaders, and his analysis of diplomatic mechanics provide information available nowhere else. His observations about bureaucratic process, congressional grandstanding, and media superficiality contain uncomfortable truths.
Kissinger genuinely cannot comprehend that his critics might be right. His dismissal of human rights concerns as mere moralism, his contempt for democratic accountability, and his conviction that only he and his allies understood genuine statecraft reveal his true philosophy.
The comparison with Reagan proves particularly revealing. Kissinger acknowledges that Reagan "proved to have better instinct for America's emotions by justifying his course in the name of American idealism. Nixon attempted to teach the virtues of national interest. Reagan understood better that the American people are more moved by purpose than structure, and his policy declarations resonated with classic Wilsonianism based upon democratic virtue."
This passage inadvertently concedes that Reagan succeeded where Kissinger failed precisely by taking seriously the moral dimension Kissinger dismisses. The Cold War was won not through Kissingerian balance-of-power calculations but through Reagan's willingness to call the Soviet Union an evil empire and mean it.
Kissinger observes that "no foreign policy is stronger than its domestic base." As we have seen, however,