in force, America would never have invaded Iraq in 2003.
These are important considerations, yet there is no denying the success of America’s professional military, which remains the best in the world. In the generation since Nixon ended military conscription, the US military has become an unparalleled force, setting a new standard of effectiveness and professionalism. From the Gulf War in 1991—its first great test—to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the all-volunteer American military has proved essentially unbeatable. The wars in which it has engaged, however, have proved intractable, for political and cultural reasons. The military’s job is to fight and win, and the American military has never been better at doing that. How the politicians choose to use this power, of course, is another matter.
The American armed forces today are also the best trained and best educated that we have ever had. The mindset of a professionalized army is completely different from that of a fighting force filled with involuntary conscripts serving eighteen- to twenty-four-month tours. The casualty rates for American forces in armed conflicts since the institution of the all-volunteer army began have been dramatically lower than in previous wars.
“The record of the Nixon years,” wrote a member of the Gates Commission in a New York Times op-ed in 1994, “must include his role in ending compulsion and expanding freedom of choice. Thanks to his actions, the United States armed forces are stronger and more efficient.”78
Of course, it was not just on the draft that Nixon’s policies would prove surprising when it came to military and national-defense issues. For it was in the realm of foreign policy itself that he would pave the ground of his greatest achievements. And, just as with domestic policy, his achievements as a statesman often ran counter to the image he had fostered in the public mind.
Nixon’s visit to China is one of the few occasions where a state visit brought about a seminal change in international affairs. The reentry of China into the global diplomatic game, and the increased strategic options for the United States, gave a new vitality and flexibility to the international system. . . . Consultation between China and the United States reached a level of intensity rare even among former allies.
— HENRY KISSINGER1
Nixon and Kissinger’s overture forever changed the Cold War by reconfiguring the Communist bloc and bringing Washington and Beijing together to balance Moscow. . . . The process that Nixon set in motion—the former Red-baiter breaking the taboo on talks with the massive communist power—led to one of those rare times in history when daring leadership actually did redirect the course of events for the better.
— ORVILLE SCHELL2
By July of 1959, the American people already had a pretty good idea of Richard Nixon. He had entered Congress in 1947 and risen to fame rapidly as the chief accuser of Alger Hiss, the former high-level FDR aide who had hidden his ties to the Communist Party. Nixon had won a 1950 Senate election by branding his opponent Helen Gahagan Douglas the “pink lady” for her far-left views and sympathies. He had scratched and clawed to keep his place on the presidential ticket in 1952 with his famous televised “Checkers” speech. And now, a year away from the 1960 presidential election, it was common knowledge that Dwight Eisenhower’s number two would run for the top job.
By 1959 Vice President Nixon was known, but not necessarily understood. Then he went to Moscow to visit the American National Exhibition. The year before, the Soviets had put up an exhibit in New York; the Americans were reciprocating, as part of an effort by the superpowers to improve relations. On arriving in Moscow, Nixon had met with Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev; when Khrushchev visited New York, Nixon took the Soviet leader on a tour of the exhibit. Khrushchev surprised Nixon with his aggressiveness and belligerence. As the American vice president stood with the Soviet leader at the exhibit showing him the wonders of color television—then a new innovation—Khrushchev scoffed, and then began challenging Nixon on the US sponsorship of Captive Nations Week, in which Americans were asked to pray for “peoples enslaved by the Soviet Union.”
Reaching out for a burly Russian worker, Khrushchev asked: “Does this man look like a slave laborer?”
Nixon did not back down, but, trying to be gracious, said: “There must be an exchange of ideas. After all, you don’t know everything.” And then he smiled, trying to defuse the tension. The two leaders moved across the gallery to a display model of what was billed as a typical American house, complete with a new washing machine. And right there, as he and Khrushchev stood perched by the railing separating the kitchen, Nixon let the Soviet premier have it.
“Would it not be better to compete in the relative merit of washing machines,” he asked Khrushchev, “than in the strength of rockets?”
“Yes, but your generals say we must compete in rockets,” said the Soviet leader. “We are strong and we can beat you.” And in fact, at that moment in history, the Soviets did outpace the United States in rocket thrust. But Nixon was unfazed.
“In this day and age to argue who is stronger completely misses the point,” he said. “With modern weapons it just does not make sense. If war comes we both lose.” Earlier, Khrushchev had talked over Nixon, but now Nixon turned the tables and cut the Soviet leader off.
“I hope the prime minister understands all the implications of what I just said . . . ,” Nixon asserted. “Whether you place either one of the powerful nations in a position so that they have no choice but to accept dictation or fight, then you are playing with the most destructive power in the world. . . . When we sit down at a conference table it cannot be all one way. One side cannot put an ultimatum to another.”
“Our country has never been guided by ultimatums,” Khrushchev finally offered. “It sounds like a threat.”
“Who is threatening?” Nixon asked.
“You want to threaten us indirectly,” the Soviet leader said. “We have powerful weapons, too, and ours are better than yours if you want to compete.”
“Immaterial,” said Nixon. “I don’t think peace is helped by reiterating that you have more strength than us, because that is a threat, too.” And then he gently jabbed Khrushchev in the chest.3
“We want peace with all nations, especially America,” said Khrushchev, now sounding conciliatory.
“We also want peace,” said Nixon. But: “In order to have peace, Mr. Prime Minister, there must be a sitting down at the table and a discussion in which each sees the points of the other.”4
Nixon’s showdown with Khrushchev made front pages around the world, and the picture of the two, perched over the kitchen railing, with Nixon looking very much in charge, became the iconic image of what was soon dubbed the “Kitchen Debate.” Nixon, Time enthused, had “managed in a unique way to personify a national character proud of peaceful accomplishment, sure of its way of life, confident of its power under threat.”5 Khrushchev thought so, too: he didn’t forget his encounter with Nixon, whom he now saw as a determined advocate for America and a potentially formidable adversary, should he win the White House. He did whatever he could, he admitted years later, to help defeat Nixon in the 1960 presidential election.
Foreign
