Not so long ago, Hillary Clinton was being lauded as an
exemplary secretary of state. After four years and nearly a million
miles logged as America’s top diplomat, she stepped down to a torrent of
praise. “The most consequential secretary of state since Dean Acheson,”
enthused Google’s Eric Schmidt. “Stellar,” pronounced
Bloomberg’s Margaret Carlson. Even Republican Sen. John McCain, while
criticizing her response to the killing of U.S. officials in Benghazi,
went out of his way to compliment her “outstanding” State Department tenure.
That was then.
When the Atlantic published an admiring 10,000-word profile of Secretary of State John Kerry the other day, the surprise was not so much that the author, two-time Pulitzer Prize winner David Rohde, found himself impressed by the headlong diplomatic forays of the peripatetic Kerry, but the downbeat assessment of Kerry’s much more reserved predecessor. The headline? “How John Kerry Could End Up Outdoing Hillary Clinton.” A few days later, the New York Times chimed in with an article on the “tough comparisons with Kerry” Clinton is now facing, summing up the debate as one over whether she was anything more than a “pantsuit-wearing globe-trotter” in her years as secretary.
All of which yields the question: Was Hillary Clinton in fact a
good secretary of state, and will her record as a diplomat matter if, as
expected, she runs for president in 2016?
As Bill Clinton might have said, it depends on what the meaning of good is. Certainly, even many of her most ardent defenders recognize Hillary Clinton had no signal accomplishment at the State Department to her name, no indelible peace sealed with her handshake, no war averted, no nuclear crisis defused. There are few Eric Schmidts out there still willing to make the case for her as an enormously consequential figure in the history of Foggy Bottom.
Where the debate tends to rage is over why that is so, especially now that Kerry is taking on diplomatic challenges that Clinton either couldn’t or wouldn’t—from negotiating a potentially historic nuclear deal with Iran to seeking a revived Mideast peace process—and political rivals in both parties return to thinking of Clinton in the hypercharged American political context and not so much as the tireless, Blackberry-wielding face of global glad-handing.
I asked an array of smart foreign policy thinkers in both parties to weigh in, and they pretty much all agreed that Clinton was both more cautious and more constrained than Kerry. Their argument is over whether and to what extent that was a consequence of Clinton herself, the limits placed on her by a suspicious and eager-to-make-its-mark first-term White House, or simply it being a very different moment in world politics.
Here’s Aaron David Miller, who negotiated Middle East peace for five presidents and is now a scholar at the Wilson Center, making the case for cautious Clinton: “Hillary was risk-averse; Kerry isn’t. He’s risk-ready.” Of course, Miller argues, 2016 politics “explains partly why she didn’t own a single issue of consequence.” The other reason is President Obama himself, “the most controlling foreign policy president since Nixon.” Miller’s bottom line: “She was a fine secstate but not consequential.” As for 2016, “It won’t hurt her other than the Republican obsession with Benghazi, but it won’t help her that much either.”
What does that Republican take look like? For sure, there will be a
focus on Benghazi, where the GOP has questioned whether Clinton and
other administration officials were activist enough—and truthful
enough—about responding to the attack in Libya on Sept. 11, 2012, that
led to the deaths of the U.S. ambassador and three other American
personnel; a case summed up by the American Enterprise’s Institute’s
Danielle Pletka as “unwillingness to take risks, unwillingness to lead,
willingness to stab a lot of people in the back. And dead people.”
Pletka’s broader view of Clinton’s record is a harsher version of what I
hear from many Democrats: “the Washington consensus,” Pletka says, “is
that she was enormously ineffective … [though] no one was quite sure
whether she was ineffective because she wanted to avoid controversy or
because she wasn’t trusted by the president to do anything.”
Not quite so harsh is David Gordon, who ran the State Department’s storied policy-planning shop under George W. Bush. He calls Clinton “good not great” in the job, agrees that her “great weakness was avoiding serious diplomacy,” gives her plaudits for outlining the strategic “pivot” to Asia whose future is now uncertain, and attributes much to “her future political considerations”:
As for the Democrats, Clinton’s advocates tend to come in
several camps, which can be broadly summed up as The Timing Just Wasn’t
Right group; the Blame the White Housers; and the Asia Pivot Was a
Really Big Deal crowd (“her major accomplishment,” the Brookings
Institution’s Michael O’Hanlon told me, and “too often
underappreciated”).
Howard Berman, a strong Clinton backer who chaired the House
Foreign Affairs Committee during her tenure, offered me a great example
of the first line of reasoning: You don’t pick your moments, but deal
with the world as you find it. “I don’t believe Secretary Clinton was
constrained by future political considerations,” he wrote to me. “Let’s
look at the issues Kerry is working on and it is clear that Clinton, for
rather obvious reasons, couldn’t have replicated what he has done
because those issues weren’t ripe then. … It’s about a different time.”
Blaming the White House, of course, is a common theme in any critique of a foreign policy record, and that’s especially so when it comes to the question of Clinton’s dealings with the White House of the president she ran against in 2008. Throughout her tenure as secretary of state, Washington wondered over the extent of Clinton’s actual influence in foreign policy decision-making (“she’s really the principal implementer,” Obama adviser Denis McDonough told me, when I asked about the division of labor between Obama’s White House and Clinton’s State Department for a Foreign Policy article last year). And it was by all accounts Obama himself who was reluctant to take on some of the challenges, like Middle East peace talks or a more activist stance toward the civil war unfolding in Syria, that Clinton is now dinged for avoiding.
That was the argument from Dennis Ross, and he is certainly well positioned to know: Ross worked as the top White House aide on Iran and the Middle East on Obama’s National Security Council before leaving last year. The new conventional wisdom on Politically Cautious Hillary is “misguided,” he says. “She was operating in a different world and with an administration at a different place.” And those White House realities very much shaped what she could and couldn’t do. To start, Ross notes, Clinton was “in a place where she felt the need to prove her loyalty to the president and demonstrate she was a member of the team,” and besides, Obama himself was very personally engaged in his various diplomatic initiatives. By later in Obama’s first term, deciding what to do about dumping America’s longtime ally Hosni Mubarak in Egypt (she was wary) and whether to intervene more actively in Syria (she pushed to do so) became “issues where I think she was not in the same place as the president and was thus less able to shape what we did.”
That was then.
When the Atlantic published an admiring 10,000-word profile of Secretary of State John Kerry the other day, the surprise was not so much that the author, two-time Pulitzer Prize winner David Rohde, found himself impressed by the headlong diplomatic forays of the peripatetic Kerry, but the downbeat assessment of Kerry’s much more reserved predecessor. The headline? “How John Kerry Could End Up Outdoing Hillary Clinton.” A few days later, the New York Times chimed in with an article on the “tough comparisons with Kerry” Clinton is now facing, summing up the debate as one over whether she was anything more than a “pantsuit-wearing globe-trotter” in her years as secretary.
As Bill Clinton might have said, it depends on what the meaning of good is. Certainly, even many of her most ardent defenders recognize Hillary Clinton had no signal accomplishment at the State Department to her name, no indelible peace sealed with her handshake, no war averted, no nuclear crisis defused. There are few Eric Schmidts out there still willing to make the case for her as an enormously consequential figure in the history of Foggy Bottom.
Where the debate tends to rage is over why that is so, especially now that Kerry is taking on diplomatic challenges that Clinton either couldn’t or wouldn’t—from negotiating a potentially historic nuclear deal with Iran to seeking a revived Mideast peace process—and political rivals in both parties return to thinking of Clinton in the hypercharged American political context and not so much as the tireless, Blackberry-wielding face of global glad-handing.
I asked an array of smart foreign policy thinkers in both parties to weigh in, and they pretty much all agreed that Clinton was both more cautious and more constrained than Kerry. Their argument is over whether and to what extent that was a consequence of Clinton herself, the limits placed on her by a suspicious and eager-to-make-its-mark first-term White House, or simply it being a very different moment in world politics.
Here’s Aaron David Miller, who negotiated Middle East peace for five presidents and is now a scholar at the Wilson Center, making the case for cautious Clinton: “Hillary was risk-averse; Kerry isn’t. He’s risk-ready.” Of course, Miller argues, 2016 politics “explains partly why she didn’t own a single issue of consequence.” The other reason is President Obama himself, “the most controlling foreign policy president since Nixon.” Miller’s bottom line: “She was a fine secstate but not consequential.” As for 2016, “It won’t hurt her other than the Republican obsession with Benghazi, but it won’t help her that much either.”
Not quite so harsh is David Gordon, who ran the State Department’s storied policy-planning shop under George W. Bush. He calls Clinton “good not great” in the job, agrees that her “great weakness was avoiding serious diplomacy,” gives her plaudits for outlining the strategic “pivot” to Asia whose future is now uncertain, and attributes much to “her future political considerations”:
It is hard to avoid the
conclusion that for Clinton, the SecState role was substantially about
positioning her to run for president, especially in terms of looking
‘tough’ on some of the big issues: Iran sanctions, reassuring Asian
allies. … Not taking on the big diplomatic challenges made that
toughness easier to maintain even as she devoted so much of her actual
time in office to ‘soft’ issues like education, women’s empowerment,
etc.
Blaming the White House, of course, is a common theme in any critique of a foreign policy record, and that’s especially so when it comes to the question of Clinton’s dealings with the White House of the president she ran against in 2008. Throughout her tenure as secretary of state, Washington wondered over the extent of Clinton’s actual influence in foreign policy decision-making (“she’s really the principal implementer,” Obama adviser Denis McDonough told me, when I asked about the division of labor between Obama’s White House and Clinton’s State Department for a Foreign Policy article last year). And it was by all accounts Obama himself who was reluctant to take on some of the challenges, like Middle East peace talks or a more activist stance toward the civil war unfolding in Syria, that Clinton is now dinged for avoiding.
That was the argument from Dennis Ross, and he is certainly well positioned to know: Ross worked as the top White House aide on Iran and the Middle East on Obama’s National Security Council before leaving last year. The new conventional wisdom on Politically Cautious Hillary is “misguided,” he says. “She was operating in a different world and with an administration at a different place.” And those White House realities very much shaped what she could and couldn’t do. To start, Ross notes, Clinton was “in a place where she felt the need to prove her loyalty to the president and demonstrate she was a member of the team,” and besides, Obama himself was very personally engaged in his various diplomatic initiatives. By later in Obama’s first term, deciding what to do about dumping America’s longtime ally Hosni Mubarak in Egypt (she was wary) and whether to intervene more actively in Syria (she pushed to do so) became “issues where I think she was not in the same place as the president and was thus less able to shape what we did.”
Timing, fate and the White House may have all conspired in it, but the truth is that Hillary Clinton never did find a way to turn Foggy Bottom into her ticket to history.Steve Sestanovich, a professor at Columbia University and veteran of Bill Clinton’s State Department, thinks the blame lies in part with another White House—George W. Bush’s. Hillary Clinton, Sestanovich concedes, “was reluctant to over-invest in high-visibility initiatives that didn’t have much chance of success.” But, he says, that’s because “the top priority of the president—and hers too—was to deal with inherited difficulties and wind them down,” whether the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq or restoring luster to an American global reputation tarred by the aggressive decade-long prosecution of its “war on terror.” Sestanovich adds: “It’s true that her record as secretary included few accomplishments if you mean by that peace agreements solving some big problem. If you measure her tenure by success in rebuilding America’s power position, it looks a lot better. She wasn’t just foisting better cookstoves on African women.”
In some ways, though, that is exactly the argument I encountered from her most passionate defender among those I surveyed. Anne-Marie Slaughter, Clinton’s first policy-planning chief at the State Department and now head of the New America Foundation, is still an unwavering believer in the cookstoves and all of Clinton’s other untraditional causes, many of which focused on global advocacy for women and girls. “I continue to think that people will look back and see that she was the first secretary of state really to grasp the ways global politics and hence foreign policy have changed in the 21st century,” Slaughter says.
Her case for Clinton, in fact, is explicitly about politics—and Clinton’s willingness to integrate them into the traditionally stodgy, big man-to-big man diplomacy long favored at the State Department (and arguably now being resurrected by Kerry). “Foreign policy has always been the furthest thing from retail politics; she brought them much closer together and institutionalized as much of her approach as possible in the very bones of the State Department. … Hillary took diplomacy directly to the people in ways that cannot produce a treaty or negotiated agreement, but that are essential to advancing America’s interests over the longer term,” Slaughter argues. “What she should be remembered for in a 2016 campaign is proving that she could represent the American people day in and day out in the long, hard slog of regular politics, in between the rare shining moments of success. She was and is beloved around the world, as an inspiration, as an example of an America in which a woman could run for president, nearly win her party’s primary, lose with grace and then prove that adversaries can work together for the sake of their country.”
***
“Can this really be true? Was the Chen negotiation as good as it will get for Clinton?” asked Washington Post columnist David Ignatius. “I fear the answer is yes.” At the time, he dinged Clinton for not finding “a way to get more done in her role as the president’s diplomatic emissary, broker, and fixer.” And never mind all the hundreds of thousands of miles logged, the endless “townterviews” and back-stage arm-twisting—it remains a pretty fair critique. Timing, fate and the White House may have all conspired in it, but the truth is that Hillary Clinton never did find a way to turn Foggy Bottom into her ticket to history.
And perhaps that’s exactly the reason why American politicians tend to become secretary of state after they’ve run for president and lost; it just might be a better consolation prize than it is steppingstone to higher office.
Susan B. Glasser is editor of Politico Magazine.
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