Henry Kissinger, writing on American foreign policy, mentions that, according to Dean Acheson, ‘Leaving high office is like the end of a great love affair — a void left by the disappearance of heightened sensibilities and focused concerns.’ Dr K. should know. He was a swinger in his younger days, was among the first to mention that power is one of the greatest of all aphrodisiacs, and knew quite a few beauties in his time. He then married the very graceful and extremely supportive Nancy and has lived happily ever after.
Lucky Dr K. I am a great fan of his and consider him a modern Machiavelli, meant in the best possible way. Here’s Dr Kissinger on advice to the prince: ‘The adviser to the prince occasionally faces the dilemma of balancing the benefits of the ability to alter events against the possibility of exclusion, should he bring his objections to any one policy to a head.’ Better still, ‘How does the ability to modify the prince’s prevailing conduct weigh against the moral onus of participation in his policies?’ Kissinger was fortunate to serve an intelligent president like Richard Nixon. The much maligned Nixon was, as far as I’m concerned, the greatest postwar president, with his openings to China and the Soviets which eventually led to the collapse of the latter.
In Kissinger Nixon found the greatest and most learned adviser, something for which Dr Henry will never be forgiven by those morons inside the Washington beltway and the media of the Left. What I have never understood is the reasoning behind their hate. What was Hank supposed to do? Sabotage Uncle Sam because an old bag like Katharine Graham didn’t like the president and preferred the company of a tart like Pamela Harriman? Kissinger gives generous credit to other secretaries of state, especially the two great ones, Dean Acheson under Truman and John Foster Dulles under Eisenhower. He does this in his recent review of a George F. Kennan biography, Kennan being a giant among giants of the immediate postwar period, one who somehow never reached the summit of power but nevertheless earned the respect of his peers and then some. (Kennan as ambassador to Moscow predicted the implosion of the Soviet Union 40 years to the day.) Acheson worked on the Marshall Plan, created Nato and brought Germany into the Atlantic structure. John Foster Dulles extended the alliance system through the Baghdad Pact for the Middle East and for Southeast Asia through Seato. Which bottled up the then belligerent Soviets without firing a shot.
Think of today’s bunch, starting with Clinton and W. Bush, and really, really weep. Clinton the draft dodger bombed Serbia for 73 days and nights, while Bush and Cheney, who between them took more draft deferments than I’ve known hookers, began the bloodiest of wars for absolutely no reason except to make Likud sleep better at night. One trillion dollars and millions of refugees later, not to mention the dead and wounded who amount to hundreds of thousands, these two clowns are not only walking around free, they even find publishers to justify their monstrous acts against humanity. Go figure, as they used to say in Piraeus.
Here’s Kissinger again on the reasons for war: ‘Wars are fought when accommodation is more onerous than the consequences of defeat.’ The Wolfowitzes and their ilk knew that and managed to convince the idiotic W. that Saddam had the bomb and was ready to use it. And this is exactly what is happening as I write where Tehran is concerned. The Likudists are on the march again and need dumb Uncle Sam to bomb Iran. But why am I writing about these catamites? I began this because of the Acheson quote on leaving high office being like the end of a great love affair.
I have never held nor aspired to high office, but I can tell you one thing. The end of an era is even worse than the end of a great love affair. In last weekend’s Wall Street Journal there was a picture of Coco Chanel surrounded by eight of her beautiful models. It was taken in 1959 and I knew all of them except for Mademoiselle Chanel — as they all called her — but two of them had been very grand love affairs. Seeing the picture brought a kind of pain only sensitive souls like the poor little Greek boy can feel, but it also reminded me of the void left by the disappearance of heightened sensitivities and focused concerns. If any of you sees the pic, mine were the two prettiest by far. The affairs took place four years apart, in 1959 and 1963. I was 23 and 27, they were 25 and 28. Both were married, and both marriages collapsed, but they were already cracked, as they used to say in Brooklyn. As I said, both ladies were known as the most beautiful in the City of Light, renowned for its beauties. Both had that nonchalant grace American women are not known for and were ethereal creatures who managed to retain their beauty to old age. (One is gone.)
Chanel I never met, although she advised both of her girls to marry me — Greeks are good fathers and love their children, she told them. This was nothing to do with me; it was down to my own father. She had asked my age and if I had money, and both had answered that I did not but my father did, hence the advice. In today’s world, where people are either asleep or online, I miss that wonderful Paris era when I was young and had a couple of Chanel’s girls at my beck and call.
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