Foreign Relations of the United States, 1981–1988, Volume I, Foundations of Foreign Policy

191. Address by Secretary of State Shultz¹

Washington, April 3, 1984

Power and Diplomacy in the 1980s

Over 20 years ago, President John Kennedy pledged that the United States would “pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and the success of liberty.”² We know now that the scope of that commitment is too broad—though the self-confidence and courage in those words were typically American and most admirable. More recently, another Administration took the view that our fear of communism was “inordinate” and that there were very complicated social, economic, religious, and other factors at work in the world that we had little ability to affect. This, in my view, is a counsel of helplessness that substantially underestimates the United States and its ability to influence events.

Somewhere between these two poles lies the natural and sensible scope of American foreign policy. We know that we are not omnipotent and that we must set priorities. We cannot pay any price or bear any burden. We must discriminate; we must be prudent and careful; we must respond in ways appropriate to the challenge and engage our power only when very important strategic stakes are involved. Not every situation can be salvaged by American exertion even when important values or interests are at stake.

At the same time, we know from history that courage and vision and determination can change reality. We can affect events, and we all know it. The American people expect this of their leaders. And the future of the free world depends on it.

Americans, being a moral people, want their foreign policy to reflect the values we espouse as a nation. But Americans, being a practical people, also want their foreign policy to be effective. If we truly care about our values, we must be prepared to defend them and advance them. Thus we as a nation are perpetually asking ourselves how to reconcile our morality and our practical sense, how to pursue noble goals in a complex and imperfect world, how to relate our strength to our purposes—in sum, how to relate power and diplomacy.

We meet this evening amid the excitement of America’s quadrennial exercise of self-renewal, in which we as a country reexamine ourselves and our international objectives. It is an unending process—almost as unending as the presidential campaign season. But there are some constants in our policy, such as our alliance with the industrial democracies, as embodied in the distinguished gathering. This partnership—the cornerstone of our foreign policy for 35 years—itself reflects our ability to combine our moral commitment to democracy and our practical awareness of the crucial importance of maintaining the global balance of power. So I consider this an appropriate forum at which to share some thoughts on the relationship between power and diplomacy in the last two decades of the 20th century.

The World We Face

By the accident of history, the role of world leadership fell to the United States just at the moment when the old international order had been destroyed by two world wars but no new stable system had developed to replace it. A century ago, the international system was centered on Europe and consisted of only a few major players. Today, in terms of military strength, the dominant countries are two major powers that had been, in one sense or another, on the edge or outside European diplomacy. But economic power is now widely dispersed. Asia is taking on increasing significance. The former colonial empires have been dismantled, and there are now more than 160 independent nations on the world scene. Much of the developing world itself is torn by a continuing struggle between the forces of moderation and forces of radicalism. Most of the major international conflicts since 1945 have taken place there—from Korea to Vietnam to the Middle East to Central America. Moreover, the Soviet Union continues to exploit nuclear fear as a political weapon and to exploit instabilities wherever they have the opportunity to do so.

On a planet grown smaller because of global communications, grown more turbulent because of the diffusion of power—all the while overshadowed by nuclear weapons—the task of achieving stability, security, and progress is a profound challenge for mankind. In an age menaced by nuclear proliferation and state-sponsored terrorism, tendencies toward anarchy are bound to be a source of real dangers.

It is absurd to think that America can walk away from these problems. This is a world of great potential danger. There is no safety in isolationism. We have a major, direct stake in the health of the world economy; our prosperity, our security, and our alliances can be affected by threats to security in many parts of the world; and the fate of our fellow human beings will always impinge on our moral consciousness. Certainly the United States is not the world’s policeman. But we are the world’s strongest free nation, and, therefore, the preservation of our values, our principles, and our hopes for a better world rests in great measure, inevitably, on our shoulders.

Power and Diplomacy

In this environment, our principal goal is what President Reagan has called “the most basic duty that any President and any people share—the duty to protect and strengthen the peace.” History teaches, however, that peace is not achieved merely by wishing for it. Noble aspirations are not self-fulfilling. Our aim must always be to shape events and not be the victim of events. In this fast-moving and turbulent world, to sit in a reactive posture is to risk being overwhelmed or to allow others, who may not wish us well, to decide the world’s future.

The Great Seal of the United States, as you know, shows the American eagle clutching arrows in one claw and olive branches in the other. Some of you may have seen the Great Seal on some of the china and other antique objects in the White House or in the ceremonial rooms on the eighth floor of the State Department. On some of older items, the eagle looks toward the arrows; on others, toward the olive branches. It was President Truman who set it straight: he saw to it that the eagle always looked toward the olive branches—showing that America sought peace. But the eagle still holds onto those arrows.

This is a way of saying that our forefathers understood quite well that power and diplomacy always go together. It is even clearer today that a world of peace and security will not come about without exertion or without facing up to some tough choices. Certainly power must always be guided by purpose, but the hard reality is that diplomacy not backed by strength is ineffectual. That is why, for example, the United States has succeeded many times in its mediation when many other well-intentional mediators have failed. Leverage, as well as good will, is required.

Americans have sometimes tended to think that power and diplomacy are two distinct alternatives. To take a very recent example, the Long commission report³ on the bombing of our Marine barracks in Beirut urged that we work harder to pursue what it spoke of as “diplomatic alternatives,” as opposed to “military options.” This reflects a fundamental misunderstanding—not only of our intensive diplomatic efforts throughout the period but of the relationship between power and diplomacy. Sometimes, regrettable as it may be, political conflict degenerates into a test of strength. It was precisely our military role in Lebanon that was problematical, not our diplomatic exertion. Our military role was hamstrung by legislative and other inhibitions; the Syrians were not interested in diplomatic compromise so long as the prospect of hegemony was not foreclosed. They could judge from our domestic debate that our staying power was limited.

In arms control, also, successful negotiation depends on the perception of a military balance. Only if the Soviet leaders see the West as determined to modernize its own forces will they see an incentive to negotiate agreements establishing equal, verifiable, and lower levels of armaments.

The lesson is that power and diplomacy are not alternatives. They must go together, or we will accomplish very little in this world.

The relationship between them is a complex one, and it presents us with both practical and moral issues. Let me address a few of those issues. One is the variety of the challenges we face. A second is the moral complexity of our response. A third is the problem of managing the process in a democracy.

The Range of Challenges

Perhaps because of our long isolation from the turmoil of world politics, Americans have tended to believe that war and peace, too, were two totally distinct phenomena: we were either in a blissful state of peace, or else (as in World Wars I and II) we embarked on an allout quest for total victory, after which we wanted to retreat back into inward-looking innocence, avoiding “power politics” and all it represented. During World War II, while single-mindedly seeking the unconditional surrender of our enemies, we paid too little heed to the emerging postwar balance of power.

Similarly, since 1945 we have experienced what we saw as a period of clearcut cold war, relieved by a period of seeming detente which raised exaggerated expectations in some quarters. Today we must see the East-West relationship as more complex, with the two sides engaging in trade and pursuing arms control even as they pursue incompatible aims. It is not as crisis prone or starkly confrontational as the old cold war; but neither is it a normal relationship of peace or comfortable coexistence.

Thus, in the 1980s and beyond, most likely we will never see a state of total war or a state of total peace. We face instead a spectrum of often ambiguous challenges to our interests.

We are relatively well prepared to deter an all-out war or a Soviet attack on our West European and Japanese allies; that’s why these are the least likely contingencies. But, day in and day out, we will continue to see a wide range of conflicts that fall in a gray area between major war and millennial peace. The coming years can be counted upon to generate their share of crises and local outbreaks of violence. Some of them—not all of them—will affect our interests. Terrorism—particularly state-sponsored terrorism—is already a contemporary weapon directed at America’s interests, America’s values, and America’s allies. We must be sure we are as well prepared and organized for this intermediate range of challenges.

If we are to protect our interests, values, and allies, we must be engaged. And our power must be engaged.

It is often said that the lesson of Vietnam is that the United States should not engage in military conflict without a clear and precise military mission, solid public backing, and enough resources to finish the job. This is undeniably true. But does it mean there are no situations where a discrete assertion of power is needed or appropriate for limited purposes? Unlikely. Whether it is crisis management or power projection or a show of force or peacekeeping or a localized military action, there will always be instances that fall short of an all-out national commitment on the scale of World War II. The need to avoid no-win situations cannot mean that we turn automatically away from hard-to-win situations that call for prudent involvement. These will always involve risks; we will not always have the luxury of being able to choose the most advantageous circumstances. And our adversaries can be expected to play rough.

The Soviets are students of Clausewitz, who taught that war is a continuation of politics by other means. It is highly unlikely that we can respond to gray-area challenges without adapting power to political circumstances or on a psychologically satisfying, all-or-nothing basis. This is just not the kind of reality we are likely to be facing in the 1980s, or 1990s, or beyond. Few cases will be as clear or as quick as Grenada. On the contrary, most other cases will be a lot tougher.

We have no choice, moreover, but to address ourselves boldly to the challenge of terrorism. State-sponsored terrorism is really a form of warfare. Motivated by ideology and political hostility, it is a weapon of unconventional war against democratic societies, taking advantage of the openness of these societies. How do we combat this challenge? Certainly we must take security precautions to protect our people and our facilities; certainly we must strengthen our intelligence capabilities to alert ourselves to the threats. But it is increasingly doubtful that a purely passive strategy can even begin to cope with the problem. This raises a host of questions for a free society: in what circumstances—and how—should we respond? When—and how—should we take preventive or preemptive action against known terrorist groups? What evidence do we insist upon before taking such steps?

As the threat mounts—and as the involvement of such countries as Iran, Syria, Libya, and North Korea has become more and more evident—then it is more and more appropriate that the nations of the West face up to the need for active defense against terrorism. Once it becomes established that terrorism works—that it achieves its political objectives—its practitioners will be bolder, and the threat to us will be all the greater.

The Moral Issues

Of course, any use of force involves moral issues. American military power should be resorted to only if the stakes justify it, if other means are not available, and then only in a manner appropriate to the objective. But we cannot opt out of every contest. If we do, the world’s future will be determined by others—most likely by those who are the most brutal, the most unscrupulous, and the most hostile to our deeply held principles. The New Republic stated it well a few weeks ago:

[T]he American people know that force and the threat of force are central to the foreign policy of our adversaries, and they expect their President to be able to deter and defeat such tactics.⁴

As we hear now in the debate over military aid to Central America, those who shrink from engagement can always find an alibi for inaction. Often it takes the form of close scrutiny of any moral defects in the friend or ally whom we are proposing to assist. Or it is argued that the conflict has deep social and economic origins which we really have to address first before we have a right to do anything else.

But rather than remain engaged in order to tackle these problems— as we are trying to do—some people turn these concerns into formulas for abdication, formulas that would allow the enemies of freedom to decide the outcome. To me, it is highly immoral to let friends who depend on us be subjugated by brute force if we have the capacity to prevent it.

There is, in addition, another ugly residue of our Vietnam debate: the notion, in some quarters, that America is the guilty party, that the use of our power is a source of evil and, therefore, the main task in foreign policy is to restrain America’s freedom to act. It is inconceivable to me that the American people believe any of this. It is certainly not President Reagan’s philosophy.

Without being boastful or arrogant, the American people know that their country has been a powerful force for good in the world. We helped Europe and Asia—including defeated enemies—rebuild after the war, and we helped provide a security shield behind which they could build democracy and freedom as well as prosperity. Americans have often died and sacrificed for the freedom of others. We have provided around $165 billion in economic assistance for the developing world. We have played a vital facilitating role in the Middle East peace process, in the unfolding diplomacy of southern Africa, as well as in many other diplomatic efforts around the globe.

We have used our power for good and worthy ends. In Grenada, we helped restore self-determination to the people of Grenada, so that they could choose their own future. Some have tried to compare what we did in Grenada to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. We welcome such comparison. Contrast, for example, the prospects for free elections in the two countries. In Grenada, they will be held this year; in Afghanistan, when? Contrast the number of American combat troops now in Grenada 5 months after the operation with the number of Soviet troops in Afghanistan 55 months after their invasion. The number in Grenada is 0; the number in Afghanistan is over 100,000.

More often, the issue is not the direct use of American military power but military assistance to friends to help them defend themselves. Around the world, security support for friends is a way to prevent crises; it bolsters our friends so they can deter challenges. And it is a way of avoiding the involvement of American forces, because it is only when our friends’ efforts in their own defense are being overwhelmed that we are faced with the agonizing decision whether to involve ourselves more directly. Security assistance is thus an essential tool of foreign policy. It is an instrument for deterring those who would impose their will by force and for making political solutions possible. It gets far less support in this country than it deserves.

Central America is a good example. The real moral question in Central America is not do we believe in military solutions, but do we believe in ourselves? Do we believe that our security and the security of our neighbors has moral validity? Do we have faith in our own democratic values? Do we believe that Marxist-Leninist solutions are antidemocratic and that we have a moral right to try to stop those who are trying to impose them by force? Sure, economic and social problems underlie many of these conflicts. But in El Salvador, the communist guerrillas are waging war directly against the economy, blowing up bridges and power stations, deliberately trying to wreck the country’s economy.

The conflict in Central America is not a debate between social theorists; it is one of those situations I mentioned where the outcome of political competition will depend in large measure on the balance of military strength. In El Salvador, the United States is supporting moderates who believe in democracy and who are resisting the enemies of democracy on both the extreme right and the extreme left. If we withdrew our support, the moderates, caught in the crossfire, would be the first victims—as would be the cause of human rights and the prospects for economic development. And anyone who believes that military support for our friends isn’t crucial to a just outcome is living in a dream world. And anyone who believes that military support can be effective when it’s given on an uncertain installment plan is not facing reality.

Accountability Without Paralysis

The third issue I want to mention is the question of how this country, as a democracy, conducts itself in the face of such challenges.

Over the last 35 years, the evolution of the international system was bound to erode the predominant position the United States enjoyed immediately after World War II. But it seems to me that in this disorderly and dangerous new world, the loss of American predominance puts an even greater premium on consistency, determination, and coherence in the conduct of our foreign policy. We have less margin for error than we used to have.

This change in our external circumstances, however, coincided historically with a kind of cultural revolution at home that has made it harder for us to achieve the consistency, determination, and coherence that we need. The last 15 years left a legacy of contention between the executive and legislative branches and a web of restrictions on executive action embedded permanently in our laws. At the same time, the diffusion of power within the Congress means that a president has a hard time when he wants to negotiate with the Congress, because congressional leaders have lost their dominance of the process and often cannot produce a consensus or sometimes even a decision.

The net result, as you well know, is an enormous problem for American foreign policy—a loss of coherence and recurring uncertainty in the minds of friend and foe about the aims and constancy of the United States.

Particularly in the war powers field, where direct use of our power is at issue, the stakes are high. Yet the war powers resolution sets arbitrary 60-day deadlines that practically invite an adversary to wait us out.⁵ Our Commander in Chief is locked in battle at home at the same time he is trying to act effectively abroad. Under the resolution, even inaction by the Congress can force the President to remove American forces from an area of challenge, which, as former President Ford has put it, undermines the President even when the Congress can’t get up the courage to take a position. Such constraints on timely action may only invite greater challenges down the road. In Lebanon our adversaries’ perception that we lacked staying power undercut the prospects for successful negotiation. As the distinguished Majority Leader, Senator Howard Baker, said on the floor of the Senate 4 weeks ago:

We cannot continue to begin each military involvement abroad with a prolonged, tedious and divisive negotiation between the executive and the legislative branches of government. The world and its many challenges to our interests simply do not allow us that luxury.⁶

I do not propose changes in our constitutional system. But some legislative changes may be called for. And I propose, at a minimum, that all of us, in both Congress and the executive branch, exercise our prerogatives with a due regard to the national need for an effective foreign policy. Congress has the right, indeed the duty, to debate and criticize, to authorize and appropriate funds and share in setting the broad lines of policy. But micromanagement by a committee of 535 independent-minded individuals is a grossly inefficient and ineffective way to run any important enterprise. The fact is that depriving the President of flexibility weakens our country. Yet a host of restrictions on the President’s ability to act are now built into our laws and our procedures. Surely there is a better way for the President and the Congress to exercise their prerogatives without hobbling this country in the face of assaults on free-world interests abroad. Surely there can be accountability without paralysis. The sad truth is that many of our difficulties over the last 15 years have been self-imposed.

The issue is fundamental. If the purpose of our power is to prevent war, or injustice, then ideally we want to discourage such occurrences rather than have to use our power in a physical sense. But this can happen only if there is assurance that our power would be used if necessary.

A reputation for reliability becomes, then, a major asset—giving friends a sense of security and adversaries a sense of caution. A reputation for living up to our commitments can, in fact, make it less likely that pledges of support will have to be carried out. Crisis management is most successful when a favorable outcome is attained without firing a shot. Credibility is an intangible, but it is no less real. The same is true of a loss of credibility. A failure to support a friend always involves a price. Credibility, once lost, has to be reearned.

Facing the Future

The dilemmas and hard choices will not go away, no matter who is president. They are not partisan problems. Anyone who claims to have simple answers is talking nonsense.

The United States faces a time of challenge ahead as great as any in recent memory. We have a diplomacy that has moved toward peace through negotiation. We have rebuilt our strength so that we can defend our interests and dissuade others from violence. We have allies whom we value and respect. Our need is to recognize both our challenge and our potential.

Americans are not a timid people. A foreign policy worthy of America must not be a policy of isolationism or guilt but a commitment to active engagement. We can be proud of this country, of what it stands for, and what it has accomplished. Our morality should be a source of courage when we make hard decisions, not a set of excuses for self-paralysis.

President Reagan declared to the British Parliament nearly 2 years ago: “We must be staunch in our conviction that freedom is not the sole prerogative of a lucky few but the inalienable and universal right of all human beings.” As long as Americans hold to this belief, we will be actively engaged in the world. We will use our power and our diplomatic skill in the service of peace and of our ideals. We have our work cut out for us. But we will not shrink from our responsibility.

1. Source: Department of State Bulletin, May 1984, pp. 12–15. All brackets are in the original. Shultz spoke before the Trilateral Commission. In a note dictated on April 2, Dam commented: “I stayed late this evening for a meeting with Secretary Shultz on an important speech he plans to make tomorrow before the Trilateral group. What he has put in one speech is what he has been saying for some time, especially since the collapse of our effort in Lebanon; namely, that we had to recognize that power and diplomacy went together and that there could be no effective diplomacy without the willingness to apply force, particularly on a graduated level and particularly in the Third World, where the growth of instability and state terrorism threatens to undermine the existing balance of power and the assumptions on which diplomatic relationships had heretofore been based.” (Department of State, D Files, Deputy Secretary Dam’s Official Files: Lot 85D308, Personal Notes of Deputy Secretary—Kenneth W. Dam—Oct. 1983–Sept. 1984) In his memoir, Shultz recalled the address: “I started to speak out on the subject [terrorism]. Public debate, I felt, could be a way to sharpen our thinking and strengthen our policy. On April 3, 1984, at a meeting of the Trilateral Commission, I said we had to take on the challenge of terrorism boldly and to be willing to use force under the right circumstances.” (Shultz, Turmoil and Triumph, p. 646)
2. Reference is to President Kennedy’s January 20, 1961, inaugural address. For the text of the address, see Public Papers: Kennedy, 1961, pp. 1–3.
3. See footnote 3, Document 184.
4. “The Democrats And Force,” New Republic, March 19, 1984, pp. 7–9.
5. The War Powers Resolution (H.J. Res. 542; P.L. 93–148; 87 Stat. 555), approved on November 7, 1973, over Nixon’s veto, mandated consultation between the executive and legislative branches prior to the commitment of U.S. forces into hostilities, prohibited the extension of troop commitments beyond 60 days without specific congressional authorization, and permitted Congress, via concurrent resolution, to direct the President to disengage U.S. troops in the absence of either a declaration of war or congressional authorization.
6. Baker made these remarks on the floor of the Senate on March 6, 1984; see Congressional Record, vol. 130, part 4 (March 5–15, 1984), p. 4570.