While still in high school, I read a book by Pete Carril, who for 29 years coached a series of exceptionally disciplined basketball teams at Princeton University, in which he recounted a lesson from his childhood. “In this life,” Carril’s father would tell him and his sister every morning, “the big, strong guys are taking from the smaller, weaker guys but … the smart take from the strong.” I hoped to succeed in politics, and when I arrived at Harvard I planned to do so by heeding Carril’s lesson and educating myself. I enrolled in courses in history and political science, attended talks on public policy at the Harvard Kennedy School, and wrote book reviews for the HPR.

But I soon learned that I had misdirected my focus. The core skill of government work, I discovered, is not the ability to craft a winning argument, whether in the classroom or on the op-ed page, but the ability to master the process that decides who wins. This is why skilled lobbyists command such high salaries. It is also how individuals with limited knowledge of public policy, from movie stars to sports greats, can succeed in elected office by commanding public support. It explains why Oliver Wendell Holmes’ description of Franklin Delano Roosevelt as a “second-class intellect but a first-class temperament” is a toast to Roosevelt’s penchant for using the political system to his advantage, rather than a cheap shot.

Having revised my sense of how to succeed in politics, however, I found myself uncomfortable with the thought of becoming a politician. In college, we are encouraged to search for truth. Finding the best policy seemed fun, as did building reasoned arguments for why it was the best; pushing the levers and making the compromises necessary for enacting the policy seemed less so. I found that others had similar thoughts, including the subject of my senior history thesis, Elliot Richardson. When Richardson first considered the possibility of government service, he asked former Sen. Leverett Saltonstall (R-Mass.) if he could work on policy rather than politics. “It’s all politics,” Saltonstall responded.

But in Richardson’s life, I learned, the same insight on the nature of politics proved liberating, for it opened up new challenges, those of “managing, reconciling, mollifying, neutralizing, fending off, and avoiding a host of competing and conflicting interests.… No other occupation subjects its practitioners to such a constant flow of difficult, demanding, and sometimes painful choices.” This is what Sen. Ted Kennedy (D-Mass.) means when he refers to the Senate as a “chemical place.” Mastering that chemistry, the intricate balance among process, principle, and personality, without sacrificing one’s sense of self is a task that, Richardson wrote near the end of his life, “more than fully engage[s] the highest level of ability.”

That ability, which Isaiah Berlin called the ability to “understand a particular situation in its full uniqueness,” may make a difference not only in the back-and-forth of crafting legislation but also in a crisis. Certainly the qualities that we associate with scholarly intelligence — asking questions, probing presumptions, grasping nuance — can make a key difference, as they did in John F. Kennedy’s performance during the Cuban Missile Crisis. But so did Kennedy’s skill in prodding members of his team to contemplate alternatives and his willingness to empathize with Khrushchev’s position as he pondered his next move. In a pivotal moment, temperament mattered as much as intellect.

My adjustment to the fact that politics tends not to be an arena for the concentrated thought that I have learned to prize took some time. But while I still wonder whether a career in politics is right for me, I no longer doubt that it can provide a fascination of its own, as invigorating as it is important. And there is something inspiring about the fact that Barack Obama won office not only because his ideas were persuasive but because millions of Americans, inspired by his example of grassroots change, hit the road and knocked on doors. “There’s nothing wrong with ‘politics,’” former Speaker of the House Tip O’Neill would say, “and [people] should be proud to say it.”

One would think that at a time like this, with so many in so much trouble, altruism would be in vogue. Yet instead it seems a never-ending supply of Ponzi schemes and executive retreats symbolize the avarice that caused this calamity. On February 19th two articles on the front page of the New York Times website, one next to the other, epitomized this troubling state of affairs. The first article, “Newly Poor Swell Lines at Food Banks,” reported huge increases in demand at food banks across the country, while the second, “A Swiss Bank Is Set to Open Its Secret Files,” disclosed UBS “urged some American clients to destroy records and to stash watches, jewelry and artwork that they had bought with money hidden offshore in safe deposit boxes in Switzerland” in anticipation of investigation by the IRS. To say that something has gone terribly awry seems an understatement.

While the myriad of economic policies aimed at resuscitating the economy is of supreme importance, I mean to focus on something else. How have we arrived at a point where it is commonplace to watch some hide their jewelry while others starve? The answer will explain, in one-way or another, how so many today have come to believe that they are not their brother’s keeper. This is, perhaps, the most pressing issue facing our generation. It is thus not a coincidence that amid this crisis the HPR chose a covers topic, Beyond Borders, that while not directly addressing the recession, attends to problems whose solutions require international cooperation, and a belief that we all share a fate as residents of the same planet. Or in other words, that we are all each other’s keepers.

Such a fundamental psychological shift seems less a subject of politics than epochal change, and may be little more than the naïve hope of a young American. But there is reason to believe our bonds can be stronger than is suggested by simply inhabiting the same place. As humans our activity is inherently social, even the most ardent individualist cannot deny their indebtedness to family, friends, and history; our fellow humans make possible all of our individual thoughts and activities. Recognition of this fact may hold the key to overcoming the self-centeredness that is today so hard to ignore, and I hope Beyond Borders, by pointing towards cooperative solutions to the most difficult problems facing humanity, helps to demonstrate it.

“A wise man’s country is the world,” Aristippus, an ancient Greek philosopher, once said. Many others have since echoed his sentiment that individuals ought to identify with broader humanity rather than with nations.  In more recent decades, astronauts have joined this chorus, suggesting that a world without borders is not an aspiration so much as a fact: viewed from outer space, Earth shows no boundaries. As Soviet cosmonaut Vladimir Kovalyonok said, “After an orange cloud — formed as a result of a dust storm over the Sahara and caught up by air currents — reached the Philippines and settled there with rain, I understood that we are all sailing in the same boat.” An American counterpart concurred: “I watched the extent of one ocean touch the shores of separate continents,” said astronaut John-David Bartoe. “Two words leaped to mind as I looked down on all this: commonality and interdependence.”

Yet as modern societies transition to a more global definition of community, they do so not out of respect for their sages or their heroes but out of necessity. Problems that imperil human existence confound nation-based solutions. Nuclear materials are so plentiful and scattered that only a worldwide effort can keep non-state actors from harnessing their deadly potential. Human contributions to climate change threaten to unleash forces we cannot control, on polluters and non-polluters alike. And only close public health coordination among countries can prevent an infectious disease outbreak from becoming a global pandemic.

Some issues must be approached globally for the sake of mutual prosperity. Water shortages, which can cripple a society, can be mitigated only by good international stewardship. The international financial system has few built-in checks to prevent risky decisions in one nation from triggering worldwide economic ruin, and nationalistic trade restrictions can impoverish the global community.

Other questions defy the age-old concept of states as the basic unit of international relations. How can the world address crises in areas like the Congo, where a nominal state is a lawless deathtrap, or in the Kurdish regions of the Middle East, where an alternative “national” identity subverts political boundaries? How can Israel fight Hamas and still reconcile with the civilians Hamas purports to represent? If threats to member state security now exist beyond Europe, does NATO’s mandate extend to Afghanistan?

These questions have no easy answers, and in many cases international cooperation is insufficient to meet their challenges. But countries and their citizens are increasingly compelled to consider global consequences of their decisions. Furthermore, as the world community grows tighter, it imposes the moral claims that come with every community. A country’s responsibility to end the persisting evil of slavery, for example, is no longer satisfied by eradication within its borders but only by ending the scourge on a global level. A complete awareness of such moral duties is perhaps the most distant phase of global interdependence, yet it becomes inevitable as we contemplate a world beyond borders.

Dr. Zbigniew Brzezinski is the former National Security Advisor to President Carter and is considered a realist in foreign policy. He is currently a professor at the School of Advanced International Studies at Johns Hopkins University. Recently, Dr. Brzezinski spoke with the HPR about his perspectives on current geopolitical challenges.

Harvard Political Review: You helped shape U.S. foreign policy during the initial Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. In hindsight, do you think that American assistance to the Mujahedeen made sense in the context of the Cold War?

Zbigniew Brzezinski: It made complete sense. First of all, it precipitated the fall of the Soviet Union, and you can only imagine what the world would be like today if the Soviet Union still existed. They were then training terrorists for action all over the world, but the collapse of the Soviet Union was a blessing for international peace. Secondly, the fact that we helped the Afghans made it easy for us after 9/11 to come in and overthrow the Taliban. The Russians could not conquer Afghanistan with 160,000 troops. We sent in 300 Special Forces, that’s all — 300. But because the Afghans were very grateful and sympathetic to the United States, we overthrew the Taliban in Afghanistan practically without too much effort. The pity is in the subsequent seven years under Bush we wasted that opportunity by a policy that simultaneously was too ambitious and inept.

HPR: Going forward in Afghanistan, what should America’s strategy be? Do you think the Obama administration will fundamentally change or use the previous approach to Afghanistan?

ZB: The Obama administration is currently reappraising the strategy, and my hope is that it will come out with a sensible diagnosis. My only wish is that we should avoid the mistake that the Russians made. The Russians went into Afghanistan thinking it would be easy picking. … We are relying on some democratic Afghans in the pursuit of a more modern and democratic Afghan state, to be achieved both by a military presence as well as by economic assistance. In my view, that is too ambitious a goal. Our main objective ought to be the Taliban. … The domestic flavor of any Afghan government is the business of the Afghans themselves. Accordingly, in my view, our policies should aim at limited accommodations wherever possible with those elements of the Taliban which are prepared to make a total break with Al-Qaeda, offer Al-Qaeda no shelter, expel it, or eliminate it. If that happens, then the rest of the story is up to the Afghans.

HPR: In light of the February 2009 Israeli elections, how should President Obama speak to broker an Israeli or Palestinian peace accord? Does Israel’s failure to subdue Hamas represent a military or a political problem?

ZB: Hamas is a political reality, which cannot be subdued or ignored, just like the extreme right wing in Israel is a political reality that cannot be eliminated or ignored. The fact is that both the Israelis and Palestinians are unable to reach peace on their own, and therefore the United States, as a fair mediator, has to step into the breach and push forward the peace process by outlining at least the basic framework for what a genuine peace deal should entail. More specifically, the President should put on the record that it is the position of the United States that a peace treaty between the two sides has to entail at least the following four fundamental principles. One: no right of return for Palestinian refugees to Israel because Israel cannot be expected to commit suicide for peace. That is a very bitter pill for the Palestinians to swallow. Two: Jerusalem has to be genuinely shared. The Palestinian capital in East Jerusalem and the Israeli capital in West Jerusalem, the old city, shared jointly. That is a bitter pill for the Israelis, but without that there would be no peace or reconciliation. Three: the ’67 lines, with some changes in them, to accommodate large urban Israeli settlements, but with one-for-one territorial compensation in the Yekev and the Galilee. And four: a militarized Palestinian state, and I would even urge an American military presence on the Jordan River so that Israel has a sense of security in regards to strategic depth.

Rose Styron is a poet, journalist, and human rights activist. She has published three volumes of poetry and has written articles on human rights and foreign policy. Currently, she is leading a study group at Harvard’s Institute of Politics and was recently interviewed by the HPR.

Harvard Political Review: Your study group at Harvard is entitled “The Influence of Writers and Other Artists on Human Rights & Public Policy.” What happens when these two worlds intersect?

Rose Styron: I have met people who, through their speaking, writing, visual art, or music, stood up for what they believed, have spoken out and taken the consequences. … I felt so privileged to know them and to understand a bit of the psychology of when they were either underground or in political prisons. Sometimes they quoted poetry to each other, or whatever they remembered of their fiction writing, or of great speeches that they had read. … I was both mesmerized and humbled and understood that it was possible to make the world a better place even if you were a poet.

HPR: In what way can the arts, both visual and written, influence public opinion or, as you said, “make the world a better place?”

RS: I remember how emotional my reaction was to the amateur paintings on the walls all over Belfast during The Troubles in Northern Ireland. There were murals and scenes of both violence and peace and the arousal of passions on both sides. It brought the community together and let them express themselves in art rather than violence. I feel that that’s one of the uses of art of all kinds. Music arouses us. Paintings and graphic art arouse us. I know how moved we and people across and around the world are when writers who use the language in excellent ways highlight and illustrate the social ills and social causes of their day. They’re dealing with history and its lessons, with social and political issues as seen through characters who can change the way people feel. It may not lead to a march on Washington right away, but it influences people to get there.

HPR: In 1970, you joined the founding group of Amnesty International USA, and now it’s almost 40 years later. Was there an exact moment when you decided to make such a large commitment to addressing the issue?

RS: The first moment was when I was in the Soviet Union at an Afro-Asian writers’ conference in 1968. I actually joined a protest movement of Danny the Red who had been at the barricades in early May 1968 in Paris, and had come to Frankfurt to protest what he felt was the oppression of President [Leopold Sédar] Senghor of Senegal who was a poet as well as a president. … I snuck out to join the protest movement and then found that we had to leave within the hour to go to the airport to take the once-a-week Aeroflot plane to Moscow. [Russia] had just invaded Czechoslovakia. We protested and got some of the other writers to protest. We were all sent to Tashkent where nobody could hear us, and we were with each other and not under great surveillance. We walked around the shrines and markets of Tashkent and talked to each other. … I was so moved by all these dissidents there who told me about their experiences and gave me their manuscripts to bring back to the United States to be translated. That was the moment at which I realized I had to do something. I went to Washington; they paid no attention to me. I went to New York and joined Amnesty International. … I became part of that very first group and decided that poetry could wait and that this was what I was going to do.

HPR: What are the most pressing human rights issues facing us today?

RS: I see a lot of things as human rights issues, even stem cell research and poverty and environmental destruction, as well as persistent unjust imprisonment, torture, and exile. I’m still concerned with both the people involved in and those who have trauma from being part of practices, [in issues] like child soldiers, genital mutilation, and gender discrimination.

Sen. Bob Corker (R-Tenn.) is the former mayor of Chattanooga, Tennessee and was elected to Congress in 2006. He was very visible during the debate over the Senate’s auto industry bailout proposal. He shared with the HPR his thoughts about his bill — which emphasized short-term assistance to the industry — its rejection by the Senate, and what that rejection means for the future of the auto industry.

Harvard Political Review: In an interview on C-SPAN, you alluded to your belief that the government should be wary of the slippery slope inherent in bailing out private firms. If this is the case, why did you call for consideration of an auto industry bailout?

Bob Corker: I thought the very best way to deal with these companies was to allow them to go through the normal process that occurs in a Chapter 11 [bankruptcy]. Under the circumstances, a solution that would work would be to create a bankruptcy-type scenario where, in essence, you force the bondholders to reduce their indebtedness by seventy percent. And if we could make all that happen outside of bankruptcy, outside of the stigma, and let the government’s money, in essence, be like debtor-in-possession financing because it was being done with this tough-love concept, that [would be] a solution that would be worthy of doing. But what ended up happening — and this is sort of a hollow victory — [was that] the Bush administration in their extension … included the Corker criteria in their loan documents. Now it’s up to the Obama administration to decide if they’re actually going to enforce those, which I hope they will.

HPR: In Business Week, writer Ed Wallace reported that you were partly responsible for the new Volkswagen plant in Chattanooga that received hundreds of millions of dollars in tax incentives. Does the providing of government incentives to these foreign companies then justify direct aid to domestic companies?

BC: The state government in Tennessee and the local government in Hamilton County and Chattanooga are the ones that extended those particular benefits. Many of them are tax concessions, where property tax rates are kept low for some period of time, for example. That was not a decision made by the federal government. And by the way, General Motors and Nissan came [to Tennessee] about the same time over twenty years ago, and they both received equal incentives from the state. So, you know, state incentives for car companies, both domestic and international, have happened for years. … Another misperception: people think all the transplants, all the Toyotas and the BMWs, the Nissans and the Volkswagens, want the Big Three to fail because they have a better competitive situation. Nothing could be further from the truth. The overlap between the domestic manufacturers and transplants, as it relates to the suppliers, is about seven percent, meaning that they rely mostly on the same supplier base. If one of the companies in the Detroit Three were to go bankrupt, it would create a major disruption in the supplier base. … There’s a symbiotic relationship between the transplants and the domestic companies; they each compete on a daily basis for market share but they want themselves in general to all be healthy.

HPR: How likely do you think it is that the automakers will meet the benchmarks by March 31 and do you think they will be successful in the long run?

BC: I was at the Detroit show and I saw some awfully good products there, and of course the people in Detroit asked me if being there and seeing the products changed my mind. It actually made me even more committed to the things that were laid out because I do think that these companies have some good products that are coming to the market. But I know that with the capital structure they have — the huge amounts of debt, the obligations that they have right now to the VEBA accounts [Voluntary Employees’ Beneficiary Accounts] which they cannot possibly pay, and the fact that they have a built-in anti-competitive labor agreement — would mean that every car that comes off the line is noncompetitive. … It’s my hope that we’ll use this [economic] crisis to rectify that, so these companies can be strong for the long haul.

Howard Zucker is the former Assistant Director-General of the World Health Organization  in charge of the Health Technology & Pharmaceuticals cluster, and Representative of the Director-General on Intellectual Property, Innovation, and Public Health. Zucker previously worked in Washington as the Deputy Assistant Secretary of Health. He is currently leading a study group at Harvard’s Institute of Politics entitled “Improving U.S. Foreign Policy through Global Health Diplomacy,” and recently sat down with the HPR for an interview.

Harvard Political Review: How and why did you get involved in the World Health Organization?

Howard Zucker: I was involved with many projects that dealt with the WHO when I was in Washington, but I had a chance meeting with the Director-General at a conference in South America. It resulted in a conversation that brought me to the WHO shortly thereafter. The WHO was important to me because of its ability to work on problems which are global in scope and critical to any effort in solving public health crises. I believe that if we as a nation are going to make strides forward in helping other countries, then we have to take our collective talent in the areas of science, engineering, public health, law, diplomacy, and apply them for the greater good.

HPR: How does politics intersect with the global health world? How do public health officials influence public diplomacy through global health?

HZ: I think that, initially, the political world looks at things through a different lens than the scientific world. People who look at problems from the world of politics know that the decisions they make may have long-term consequences. So when scientists and public health experts approach those who are in the world of politics, it’s important to explain to them how the initiatives are going to benefit society, and how they will provide political goodwill for our nation. Every decision that’s made has a political component. However, the best scenario is when the political agenda dovetails with public health, engineering or even the arts.

HPR: In the context of global health, you’ve written that developing nations no longer want only to be on the receiving end of money. Why do you believe this to be true?

HZ: Years ago, if a prosperous country offered generous support for programs that would help solve a problem in a developing nation, the developing nations were quick to receive that aid. To some degree, that’s still the case, but my experience at WHO has shown me that the leadership of the developing world is no longer content with just getting a check. They want to be part of the decision-making process. I’ve noticed this on all of the issues at the WHO: from the intellectual property issues and trade negotiations, to avian influenza, to malaria, to research and the successes of research and development, and fighting counterfeit medicines. I think that’s fantastic.

HPR: What international role do you see the WHO playing in 20 or 30 years?

HZ: I think that organizations like the WHO have a significant role to play on the global stage, and particularly in the area of global health. The WHO is the most visible organization that we turn to for solutions to global health problems. I see two important challenges for the WHO. First, it’s incredibly important for the WHO to transition into an organization which recognizes that partnerships with companies are as important as partnerships with NGOs. The culture within the organization, depending on who you talk to, can be very anti-industry. It’s important that as we move forward, we take the talent from all sectors of society. Another challenge for the WHO will be to recognize the pace at which society and [global health] issues are moving. When the WHO was established, there were not as many NGOs and individuals involved [with] and dedicated to improving global health. If there was a problem, you turned to the WHO. Today the WHO needs to make sure that they maintain their role as the pace-setter in the world on these issues. I believe that if you don’t have the cash, you better have the cachet. The WHO has the cachet to be able to do things, and that’s critically important to solving global health problems.

Photo Credit: Harvard Institute of Politics

The legendary filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock once remarked, “The more successful the villain, the more successful the picture.”  Given this formula, it is hardly surprising that Richard Milhous Nixon, quite possibly the most despised and maligned political figure of the past half-century, would naturally lend his story to cinematic success.  With his dark brow, menacing smile, and perpetual coating of perspiration, Nixon is as ominous and mysterious an antagonist as any Hollywood has produced.  But in “Frost/Nixon,” Ron Howard’s slick adaptation of the Peter Morgan play, Tricky Dick undergoes a transformation, and what we are left with is Nixon as we have never seen him: lonely, vulnerable, and, strangest of all, likeable.

The Private Made Public

Peter Morgan, who adapted “Frost/Nixon” from his successful play, is no stranger to historical fiction.  He has twice tackled modern British politics, first in The Deal and then in the acclaimed 2006 film The Queen.  That same year, Morgan also co-wrote The Last King of Scotland, which brought Ugandan dictator Idi Amin to the big screen.  The private lives of public figures, with all of their schemes, contradictions, and humor, are common features in his work, and Morgan has once again found a story that allows him to explore the intrigue of recent history.

“Frost/Nixon” begins with the ignominious resignation of Richard Nixon and his self-imposed exile at his San Clemente retreat.  Across the globe, in Sydney, Australia, playboy British talk show host David Frost watches with much interest.  After some wheeling-and-dealing, Frost arranges an exclusive series of interviews with the disgraced former president.  For Nixon, the interviews present a chance to set the record straight and quite possibly achieve political rehabilitation.  Frost, however, sees this not as an historical event but instead the opportunity for fame; the fact that Nixon’s farewell attracted four hundred million viewers is not lost on the savvy TV presenter.  Over the course of the film, the interviews evolve into tense verbal sparring, with the two talented men squaring off as the cameras roll.  Both come to realize that only one can emerge as victor, with the other relegated to the dustbin of history.
Ron Howard’s solid direction enhances the suspense and intrigue of Morgan’s script, with quick edits and frequent close-ups more suggestive of a boxing match than an interview.  The film also wisely chooses to employ the two leads from the London and Broadway runs of the play, the very talented pair of Frank Langella and Michael Sheen.  The enigmatic Langella, best known for his roles in Dave, Good Night and Good Luck, and Superman Returns, completely disappears into the Nixon persona.  After hundreds of performances on stage, Langella is able to fully embody his character, and his hunched shoulders and sad eyes speak volumes about the former president’s turmoil.  Sheen, who appeared in Morgan’s The Deal and The Queen as Tony Blair, exudes both a smarmy charm and intelligence that reflect Frost’s development from lothario to master inquisitor.  Also of note is Frost/Nixon’s wonderful supporting cast of reliable character actors that includes Kevin Bacon, Oliver Platt, Sam Rockwell, and Toby Jones.   

Unhappy Days

The undeniable star of the film, though, is Langella, and he and Morgan bring a depth and sympathy to Nixon rarely seen in most cinematic outings.  This Nixon is not the unbalanced monster of Robert Altman’s Secret Honor or Oliver Stone’s Nixon.  Instead, he is as human an incarnation as has been captured on film.  He smiles and tells jokes.  He wishes he had a cheeseburger.  He takes visible pleasure in a good-looking woman and a pair of fancy Italian loafers.  And most important of all, this Nixon is clearly afflicted by one of man’s most painful emotions: loneliness.

At the beginning of the film, the camera shows Nixon’s face as he flies away from the White House for the last time.  Here, he is a man painfully bewildered by his own self-destruction.  Although his Orange County home, named La Casa Pacifica, is as charming a place of exile as any (the film uses the actual location in a nice touch of authenticity), the beauty of the scenery only makes Nixon’s loneliness and regret more apparent.

In one of “Frost/Nixon” ’s best scenes, the two titular characters exchange farewells.  Nixon, endearingly shy, explains just how fortunate Frost is to lead a life of charm, lightness, and enjoyment.  Then, in a fascinating moment of self-reflection, Nixon reveals what truly may have been the cause of his downfall: that unlike Frost, he simply did not have the ability to be liked.  Earlier in the movie, a character remarks that it is impossible to feel anything close to sympathy for Richard Nixon.  But at that moment, as the sun sets behind the solitary president, alone in his thoughts and unable to return to the limelight, sympathy may be the stirring that the audience feels.     

A Hollywood Star

For the past 35 years, film and television audiences alike have been treated to a dozen notable manifestations of the 37th president, ranging from the inspired to the strictly farcical.  He has been the subject of both theatrical epics and buoyant parodies, not to mention a slew of miniseries and made-for-TV movies.  While the quality of each production (and performance) varies, most portray Nixon in one of two ways.  In dramas, he is an ogre, a player in an American tragedy of Shakespearean proportions who sows the seeds of his own downfall.  In comedies, he is simply a buffoon.  But “Frost/Nixon” wisely steers a course that avoids stereotype, instead presenting a Nixon as complex and human as any other character, and it is in this effective and provocative treatment that the film finds its true success.

Unfortunately, “Frost/Nixon” also suffers from the same problem as any other cinematic representation of Tricky Dick. The audience is ultimately left with a work of fiction, and Peter Morgan’s story, though very compelling and certainly an interesting character study, takes many liberties with the factual record.  This includes both an alteration of the chronology surrounding the events for the sake of pacing and dramatic effect, and the creation of some scenes (most notably a revealing midnight phone call made by an inebriated Nixon) that add to Morgan’s imagining of the characters.  We may never know for sure whether Richard Nixon actually felt regret, or if he ever arrived at the conclusion that a man like he, so sadly lacking in charm and lightness, should never have gotten involved in politics.  “Frost/Nixon” remains a piece of escapist fare, less truth than entertainment, aimed at moving an audience, not educating it.  But then again, isn’t that what movies are for?

Former CIA officer Robert Baer’s new book, The Devil We Know: Dealing With The New Iranian Superpower, is sure to make waves. Baer contends the erratic Islamic Republic of 1979 has vanished; modern-day Iran may be secretive, but it is a rational, clever actor that harbors an “unshakable belief in its right to empire.” This sounds troubling, but as a powerful nation, Iran might prove a sound strategic ally to the United States, sounder than the ossified Saudi monarchy.

Using his deep knowledge of Middle Eastern history and his impressive rolodex, Baer crafts an absorbing narrative replete with interviews from both foot soldiers and leaders. The Devil We Know should be on policymakers’ reading lists, for its premise — Iran craves respect above all — is a compelling challenge to conventional wisdom.

Blueprint for Empire

Baer is not an extravagant writer, but his stark prose underscores the severity of the issue: Iran may be more formidable than hawks fear. The Shiite nation surreptitiously aids Sunni Hamas, convinces an autonomous Hezbollah to come under its wing, makes inroads into the Marxist PKK, signs energy deals with U.S.-allied Turkey and sustains de facto control over portions of Iraq, giving it tacit veto power on several foreign oil agreements.

When compared to hawks who seem more geared toward self-righteousness than empathy, our author’s ability to surmise the motives driving Iran’s aggression is laudable. First, Iran sees history entirely differently. As former Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage remarked, “I fear their hegemonistic ambitions … They [don’t] see the days of Persepolis [as] 2500 years ago; they see it as yesterday.” Second, Iran perceives America’s activities as merely a new venture in colonialism.

No Need for Nukes?

Baer asserts that Iran does not value nuclear weapons over regional power parity with the United States. He posits that with its Silkworm missiles and nimble navy, Iran could easily close the Strait of Hormuz, sending petrol prices skyrocketing. Recent events may support this; when Iranian vessels confronted U.S. warships last June, oil prices spiked. Our author writes that given its asymmetrical warfare capabilities, “Iran sees a nuclear bomb as nice to have but not crucial.” Consequently, Iran harbors no ambitions of nuclear genocide and its President’s disturbingly anti-Semitic speeches are not indicative of national goals. (After all, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad does not even sit on the National Security Council chaired by Ayatollah Khamenei). Baer implies that although Tehran’s leadership sympathizes with Palestinians, it is more concerned with the anti-Shiite Saudis administering Mecca.

Grand Strategy

How should we treat the an assertive Iran? Baer is unequivocal: come to terms with its clout. War or expensive containment is unfeasible. Our author’s recommendations for joint security patrols in the gulf and synergic energy deals are sensible, but some other proposals require a leap of faith. Baer, channeling Samuel Huntington, recommends abandoning the legacy of the 1916 Sykes-Picot agreement. The agreement’s arbitrary borders have proved disastrous, but officially redrawing the chaotic Middle East a century later along cultural lines would be arduous. Iraq alone, the most commonly discussed case for reorganization, is far more complex than the simplistic tripartite image portrayed in the media.

While Baer’s push for a two-state solution in Palestine to boost America’s image is already consensus amongst experts, his advice that we let Saudi Arabia fall into Iran’s orbit will roil the entrenched foreign policy establishment. Yet the radical nature of this proposal shouldn’t necessarily disqualify it. Baer demonstrates that Iran’s disciplined proxies act upon command, whereas the takfiris Saudi Arabia spawns are uncontrollable, partly because Sunni Islam lacks a tradition of clear hierarchy. This will not console suicide bombing victims, but nevertheless, we may be better off dealing with Tehran.

This book is unlikely to please neoconservatives intent on strong-arming Iran or liberal internationalists intent on the Wilsonian dream. And Baer’s suggestion that Iran, as the only other competent Middle Eastern nation, join Israel as America’s key ally, may sound outlandish but as he points out,  few imagined Mao’s China could become the United States’ partner. If the apogee of Iranian power is coming, Baer’s call to exploit it may gain resonance. Indeed, Henry Kissinger recently said the United States should neither fear nor obstruct “a strong Iran.” Baer is cautious while proffering hand of friendship, however, for “Iran is never what it seems.”

Barack Obama was an unlikely standard-bearer for black politicians. He did not work his way up through the ranks of the black establishment and his ties to the old guard of black politics like Jesse Jackson or John Lewis are tenuous and recent. His political presentation is not traditionally “black,” but as the broader appeal necessary for national politics; he packages himself not as a black politician, but a politician who happens to be black. Ifill believes this break from the identity-centered black politics of the past is as much of a “breakthrough” as Obama’s election, and devotes her attention to this new style of racial politics.

A generational divide

Ifill separates black politicians into older and younger generations, and her groupings draw heavily on how soon and earnestly a politician supported Obama. The elder generation was slow to embrace Obama. Prominent figures such as Jackson, a former presidential candidate, and Georgia Congressman John Lewis campaigned against him at first. There was a sense that Obama hadn’t paid his dues yet, as expressed by Atlanta mayor Andrew Young, who said in 2007, “I’d like Barack Obama to be president … in 2016.” While touting the accomplishments of these elders in the first crucial decades of black political involvement, Ifill turns a more critical eye on their opposition and cautious suspicion of the newcomer. She dismisses their professed loyalty to the Clintons, finding it an insufficient reason, quoting the similarly-minded, visceral Spike Lee, “These old black politicians say, ‘ooh, massuh Clinton was good to us, massuh hired a lot of us, massuh was good!’”

Instead Ifill suspects that the elder generation’s reluctance to support Obama stemmed from their suspicion of politicians who didn’t genuflect to the black establishment, with its established power structures and patronage. These men had advocated for black causes for so long from the inside they could not recognize an outsider who was, in fact, a product of their efforts.

The new black establishment

Younger black politicians, on the other hand, embraced Obama from the outset. Leaders like NAACP head Benjamin Jealous and Alabama Congressman Arthur Davis supported Obama consistently and backed his strategy of not focusing on “black issues.” Davis, in particular, hitched his fortunes to Obama, and is betting the Governor’s race in 2010 on overwhelmingly white Alabama joining the postracial wave. The author sets up these politicians as a new black establishment, who, in their own way, won the 2008 election as much as Obama did.

Ifill captures this “next wave” of black politicians in short profiles of mayors, state attorneys general, a state assembly speaker and even a district attorney.  Ifill dwells on the electoral mechanics of their victories, on their pre-election polls, the strength of their opponents, and the intricacies of their racial strategies and successes. How does an African-American get elected in Georgia? In Louisiana? In San Francisco?

Race out of context

A notable gap in Ifill’s analysis is her avoidance of the substantive successes and failures of this new generation. The most favorablly portrayed case study is Newark mayor Cory Booker. After his first hundred days in office, Newark showed impressive economic growth and increased security due to widely applauded policies. Unlike Ifill’s other interviewees, he’s not subjected to an Obama comparison, or a generational litmus test of whether he supported the Obama campaign early and often. Perhaps this is because he is the one case study subject without a white voter-outreach story to tell; the city of Newark is heavily black.

In the end, the author falls into the same trap as the old generation she harangues. She fails to contextualize race as one factor among many in the success of black politicians. Her excessive focus on the interaction between new black politicians misses the larger pictures — these men and women’s success will depend on their political record apart from questions of race. While race, including cross-racial policy and appeals, remain important, they can no more dominate black politicians’ strategy than did old establishment racial politics. Obama’s strategy recognized that, and he did not get mired in establishment personality politics. By indulging in yesterday’s battle, Ifill betrays what side of the generational divide she is on.