The Inevitability of Tragedy: Henry Kissinger and His World. Barry Gewen. New York, NY: W.W. Norton & Company, 2021.

The Inevitability of Tragedy: Henry Kissinger and His World by Barry Gewen explores the political philosophy and career of one of America’s most consequential national security advisors and secretaries of state. Few public figures generated as much controversy in the last half of the 20th century as Kissinger, a man admired by some and reviled by others for his substantial role in shaping U.S. foreign policy. Notable authors, including Walter Isaacson, Niall Ferguson, and Robert Dallek, have written books on Kissinger’s academic and public career. This raises the question: is there room for another book on Kissinger? Editor and journalist Barry Gewen demonstrates the answer is unequivocally yes. The Inevitability of Tragedy adds a new element to the historiography by providing a compelling analysis of Realism, the international relations theory that dictated Kissinger’s approach to policymaking. By weaving together the history of a theory and its greatest practitioner, the author attempts to “shed some useful light on the most central elements of [Kissinger’s] thinking, on the value of his pessimistic sensibility, and on the kinds of intellectual issues that anyone making policy at the highest level can expect to confront.”[1]

Gewen chooses an underappreciated case study to begin his book: the election of socialist Salvador Gossens Allende in Chile’s 1970 election. U.S. intelligence reported early in the campaign that Allende, running on the communist ticket, stood the likeliest chance to win, much to the consternation of the Nixon administration. Most of this concern stemmed from a frustrated Henry Kissinger, who exclaimed at one meeting that he didn’t “see why we have to stand by and watch a country go Communist because of the irresponsibility of its own people.”[2] He followed up this statement with concrete actions to undermine the election. Kissinger even attempted, unsuccessfully, to instigate a coup when Allende won enough of the popular vote and the endorsement of the Chilean Congress. Gewen correctly asserts that the Chile episode “represents with utmost clarity the possible conflict that can exist between the promotion of democracy and the demands of national security.”[3] Kissinger, though, was hardly concerned with this tension. The Cold War balance of power—which Allende’s election tipped in favor of the Soviets—dominated the national security advisor’s focus. The author is thus able to effectively address two aspects of his thesis with the Chile chapter: Kissinger saw international affairs in terms of power rather than moral principles, and critics of American involvement in Chilean affairs hardly appreciate the moral and intellectual dilemmas policymakers faced at the time.[4]

The root of Kissinger’s power-centric and pessimistic outlook can be found in the rise of Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party in the 1930s. Gewen challenges several notable Third Reich historians, including William Shirer and Ian Kershaw, by arguing that Hitler rose to power legitimately, through democratic process and constitutional restraints imposed by the Weimar Republic. These points are well founded, countering misleading narratives with a thorough analysis of Germany’s electoral history. Importantly, Gewen establishes that “Hitler was given power because if any German politician had cause to say that he represented the will of the people, it was he.”[5] Democracy in Germany—and, concomitantly, democracies everywhere—had weaknesses. Elections are not fated to produce morally tolerable results. Leaders in Germany recognized the threat of Nazism but remained either unable to legitimately alter the outcome of events or unwilling to subvert democracy for the greater benefit of the Weimar Republic.[6] Eventually, the mistakes of the 1930s yielded catastrophic results, among them the mass genocide of the Jewish people in Germany and its occupied territories.

Gewen argues that it should come as no surprise that many Jewish refugees brought with them a healthy suspicion of democracy and a cynical outlook on human behavior and that these  dispositions clashed with America’s tendency to regard democracy as an infallible machine of virtue and source of optimism. He reinforces this point by analyzing the political philosophies of three Jewish thinkers who contributed, directly or indirectly, to the school of Realism: Leo Strauss, Hannah Arendt, and Hans Morgenthau. Gewen admits that neither Strauss nor Arendt had any lasting ties to Kissinger himself. Rather, they were “joined together by broad commonalities based on the similarities of their backgrounds, their life histories, and their existential situations in relation to the world they were so unwillingly thrown into.”[7] Strauss and Arendt contributed significantly to conversations on democracy by defending it on its own merits but always pointing out its flaws and weaknesses. At times the author’s discussion appeared superfluous, but the argument was well made—German-born Jewish thinkers, drawing on their own unhappy experiences, learned the value of pessimism that Americans in general resisted, and arguably still resist, accepting.[8]

The harsh lessons and inimical attitude towards idealism learned from Nazi Germany translated fittingly into foreign policy, embodied most prominently, Gewen claims, by the substantial contributions of Jewish thinker and professor Hans Morgenthau. While teaching at the University of Chicago, Morgenthau developed a theory of international relations that looked beyond moral Romanticism and focused on the reality of circumstances. Fittingly, this theory became known as Realism, and it emphasized that power was the reality in international relations. Lacking a universal ethic, nations compete against each other, violently and nonviolently, to increase their share of power.[9] The author indicates that Morgenthau’s teachings had a profound impact on Kissinger, a fellow Jewish refugee and academic whose embrace of Realism was often reflected in his writings as a professor at Harvard.[10]

Gewen claims that Kissinger, upon accepting the position of National Security Advisor in the Nixon administration, bridged the gap between academic possibility and political reality, compellingly demonstrating Realism in action. Interestingly, though, Kissinger’s time in power also showed the potential limits of Realism. Nowhere was this clearer than in his feud with his longtime mentor, Morgenthau, over the Vietnam War. Gewen’s chapter on the conflict is a useful reminder that “Realism offered guidelines for policy but not prescriptions.”[11] While Morgenthau saw Vietnam as a senseless exercise of American power and became one of the war’s early critics, Kissinger feared a precipitous withdrawal would lead to a collapse of U.S. prestige and influence worldwide.[12] Power was at the forefront of their thinking, but it manifested itself in different ways. Indeed, the ambiguity of power is a common critique of Realism, among others—for example, an excessive focus on nation-states and limited predictive abilities.[13] Although Gewen did not get the chance to address these objections in The Inevitability of Tragedy, they are worth reflecting upon.

The book shifts in the final two chapters to consider Kissinger’s career as National Security Advisor and Secretary of State, and to reflect on his activities after leaving official government service. In them, Gewen examines the man’s relentless ambition. Kissinger worked fourteen to sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, burning out staffers in mere months.[14] He was also an unabashed opportunist who greatly admired historical giants like Otto von Bismarck for their pursuit of personal glory. These tendencies led to many personal clashes—his feuds with cabinet secretaries in the Nixon administration are legendary—but no one could question his brilliance. His intellectual prowess has never slackened, evident by his publication of Diplomacy and On China as a private, but still voluble, retired citizen.

The genius behind this book is its remarkable ability to look beyond chronological events and delve into the philosophies that shaped outcomes and participants. Gewen’s organization reflects this; as he stated in the prologue, “because this book is about ideas…it is less concerned with chronology than with intellectual problems and patterns of thought.”[15] Fortunately for the reader, the book is superbly written and entertaining, yet not at the expense of academic integrity. The notes and bibliography demonstrate an eclectic blend of supporting documents. However, what was especially striking was the degree of empathy that Gewen demonstrated towards his subject. He acknowledges that mistakes and overreactions were made by Kissinger and others, but reminds his modern audience that time lends perspective not afforded to participants in a crisis.[16]

Gewen’s relatively sympathetic approach contrasts sharply with other recent books, notably Reckless: Henry Kissinger and the Tragedy of Vietnam by Robert Brigham, a much more critical, although comparably well-researched and engaging, work. One would do well to read both Brigham and Gewen. A nice middle ground is Thomas Schwartz’s Henry Kissinger and American Power: A Political Biography, which provides a balanced and detailed perspective. All of these works contain valuable information and compelling arguments that help further an understanding of Kissinger and his world. Gewen’s contribution stands apart, though, in its summary of Kissinger’s political philosophy and practices. The final pages of the book highlight the notable convictions that guided him through some of the most tumultuous years America faced in the 20th century.

The modern world is no less dangerous than the one Kissinger faced. In fact, the emergence of a multipolar order demands now more than ever that policymakers have pragmatic and, in many cases, sensibly pessimistic approaches. Barry Gewen’s book makes a lasting contribution to that end, and will help all readers understand the value, as Henry Kissinger so powerfully put it, of living “with a sense of the inevitability of tragedy.”[17]

Mark Schell is an officer in the United States Air Force. The views expressed here are the author’s alone and do not represent the U.S. Air Force, the U.S. Department of Defense, or the U.S. Government.

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Header Image: U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger appears before the Senate Appropriations Committee in Washington on April 15, 1975. (Bettman Archive/Getty)

Notes:

[1] Barry Gewen, The Inevitability of Tragedy: Henry Kissinger and His World (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2020), xviii.

[2] Ibid., 1.

[3] Ibid., 4.

[4] Ibid., 45.

[5] Ibid., 83.

[6] Ibid., 87.

[7] Ibid., 107-108.

[8] Ibid., 165.

[9] Ibid., 175.

[10] Ibid., 212.

[11] Ibid., 233.

[12] Ibid., 242.

[13] Jeffrey Legro and Andrew Moravcsik, “Is Anybody Still a Realist?,” International Security 24, no. 2 (1999).

[14] Gewen, The Inevitability of Tragedy, 311.

[15] Ibid., xvii.

[16] Ibid., 45.

[17] Gewen, The Inevitability of Tragedy: Henry Kissinger and His World.