In 1994, Henry Kissinger published the book Diplomacy. He was a renowned scholar and diplomat who served as the United States National Security Advisor and Secretary of State. His book provides an extensive sweep of the history of foreign affairs and the art of diplomacy, with a particular focus on the 20th century and the Western World. Kissinger, known for his alignment with the realist school of international relations, inquires into the concepts of the balance of power, raison d’État, and Realpolitik across different eras.
His work has been widely praised for its scope and intricate detail. Yet, it has also faced criticism for its focus on individuals over structural forces, and for presenting a reductive view of history. Also, critics have also pointed out that the book focuses excessively on Kissinger’s individual role in events, potentially overstating his impact. In any case, his ideas are worthy of consideration.
This article presents a summary of Kissinger’s ideas in the twenty-eighth chapter of his book, called “Foreign Policy as Geopolitics: Nixon’s Triangular Diplomacy”.
You can find all available summaries of this book, or you can read the summary from the previous chapter of the book, by clicking these links.
Nixon’s struggle to extract the United States from Vietnam was ultimately about preserving its global standing. However, even without the burden of Vietnam, a reassessment of American foreign policy was necessary. The era of American dominance was fading as nuclear superiority declined and economic power was increasingly challenged by a resurgent Europe and Japan, both of which had benefited from U.S. investment and protection. The Vietnam War underscored the need for a sustainable approach to America’s global role—one that avoided both complete withdrawal and overextension.
At the same time, new diplomatic opportunities emerged as the communist bloc fractured. Khrushchev’s 1956 revelations about Stalin’s atrocities and the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968 had weakened communism’s ideological appeal. More significantly, the growing rift between China and the Soviet Union undermined Moscow’s claim to leadership over a united communist movement. These shifts suggested a chance for a more flexible and strategic U.S. foreign policy.
For two decades, American foreign policy had been driven by Wilsonian idealism, with leaders seeing themselves as missionaries on a global stage. By the late 1960s, however, the U.S. was mired in Vietnam and deeply divided at home, necessitating a more pragmatic and measured approach. Unlike Wilson, who had guided an optimistic nation new to international affairs, Nixon inherited a country struggling with frustration and self-doubt. He had to define long-term objectives that could be sustained even in the face of adversity.
Nixon governed a nation teetering on the edge of internal collapse. Alienated from the political establishment and mistrusted by many of its members, he remained convinced that America could not abandon its global responsibilities. Few presidents were as complex as Nixon—both introverted and determined, insecure yet resolute, skeptical of intellectuals yet highly analytical. While he struggled to connect with the public on a personal level, he successfully guided America through its transition from dominance to leadership, forcing it to navigate a world it had never fully understood.
No American president had a greater mastery of international affairs than Nixon. Aside from Theodore Roosevelt, none had traveled as extensively or engaged as deeply with foreign leaders. Though not a historian in the mold of Churchill or de Gaulle, Nixon had an uncanny ability to grasp the political dynamics of any country that captured his interest. While his domestic political strategies were often clouded by ambition and personal insecurity, his foreign policy judgments were clear, logical, and always focused on advancing American interests.
Unlike Wilson, Nixon did not believe in humanity’s inherent goodness or an inevitable harmony among nations. Whereas Wilson saw the world progressing toward peace and democracy, Nixon viewed it as a constant contest of competing interests, where stability could only be preserved through vigilant effort. He rejected the idea that collective security alone could ensure peace, instead believing that realpolitik and a balance of power were essential to maintaining global order.
Nixon’s concept of national interest ran counter to the prevailing idealism of the time. He believed that if major powers, including the U.S., acted rationally and predictably in pursuit of their interests, a stable equilibrium would emerge from their competition. Like Theodore Roosevelt, he saw balance of power as the key to stability and considered a strong America essential to global security. Though unfashionable, this approach was central to his strategic vision.
In a 1972 interview with Time magazine, Nixon articulated his belief that peace had historically been maintained only when a balance of power existed. He argued that a strong and stable U.S., Europe, Soviet Union, China, and Japan would create a safer and more balanced world. At the same time, Nixon reflected the contradictions of American society—pragmatic and hardheaded, yet still attached to its idealistic traditions. Ironically, the president he most admired was Woodrow Wilson, despite their starkly different worldviews. Nixon displayed his reverence by placing Wilson’s portrait in the Cabinet Room and choosing his desk—only to later discover it belonged to Henry Wilson, Ulysses Grant’s vice president.
Despite his realpolitik approach, Nixon often invoked Wilsonian rhetoric, emphasizing America’s moral leadership. He spoke of the nation’s duty to provide an example of spiritual leadership beyond mere military or economic power. He assured the world that the U.S. sought no territorial expansion, no domination over others, and would use its power solely to preserve peace and defend freedom. These pronouncements, however, coexisted with his firm belief in national self-interest, creating a novel synthesis of American foreign policy.
Nixon took American idealism seriously, believing in the country’s indispensable role on the world stage. However, he also accepted the reality that America could no longer afford to crusade for its values through military intervention. His foreign policy reflected a delicate balancing act: using Wilsonian rhetoric to inspire while relying on realpolitik to navigate the complexities of global power. He understood that while Americans yearned for a selfless foreign policy, world leaders preferred a predictable, interest-driven U.S. approach.
Ironically, Nixon’s commitment to maintaining America’s global leadership put him at odds with many contemporary figures who had once championed Wilsonianism but now advocated a retreat from international responsibilities. Even as Nixon scaled back America’s commitments compared to his predecessors, he saw it as his duty to define a sustainable role for an idealistic yet overstretched nation. In his vision, Wilsonian idealism and realpolitik were not mutually exclusive but rather complementary forces shaping America’s engagement with the world.
The early Cold War containment strategy had placed the U.S. at the center of every global crisis, while the ambitious rhetoric of the Kennedy era had set unrealistic goals. By the late 1960s, American idealism had turned into disillusionment, and opposition to overreach risked turning into outright isolationism. Nixon sought to restore perspective, recognizing that the U.S. remained indispensable to global stability but could no longer afford to intervene without clear strategic objectives. He understood that the survival of the world depended on U.S.-Soviet relations, while peace required America to carefully distinguish between engagements that were vital and those that were optional.
Nixon chose an unexpected moment to introduce this shift in policy. On July 25, 1969, while visiting Guam as part of a world tour, he witnessed the splashdown of the first moon-landing astronauts. Seizing the media opportunity, he spontaneously outlined new principles for U.S. involvement abroad. These principles, later known as the Nixon Doctrine, signaled a recalibration of America’s role: the U.S. would support allies but expect them to take primary responsibility for their own defense. Nixon elaborated on this approach in a November 1969 speech and further clarified it in his February 1970 foreign policy report, which became an annual tradition during his presidency.
The Nixon Doctrine addressed the paradox of America’s military engagements in Korea and Vietnam—both conflicts occurred in regions without formal U.S. commitments. Nixon aimed to balance overextension with restraint by setting three principles for U.S. involvement: honoring treaty obligations, shielding allies from nuclear threats, and expecting threatened nations to take primary responsibility for their own conventional defense. However, these criteria were not straightforward in practice. The commitment to defending allies raised questions about what defined a “vital” security interest and whether non-nuclear threats warranted intervention. Moreover, relying on allies to bolster their own defense efforts created a dilemma: if U.S. interests were paramount, would America still intervene even if an ally failed to contribute sufficiently? This challenge foreshadowed later debates on burden-sharing within alliances.
The Nixon Doctrine was particularly relevant in peripheral regions threatened by Soviet-backed forces, but ironically, it was designed to prevent another Vietnam-like intervention, making it most applicable to a situation Nixon was determined not to repeat. By the time Nixon took office, broader East-West relations needed reassessment. The Cold War had pushed America into global engagement, and the Vietnam trauma made reevaluating that engagement imperative. The debate over containment, however, had long been shaped by simplistic ideological assumptions rather than geopolitical realities. Some policymakers viewed the Soviet Union as inherently committed to world domination and refused to negotiate until Moscow abandoned its ideology. Others, adopting a psychological perspective, argued that Soviet aggression was a reaction to insecurity and that patient diplomacy could encourage more cooperative Soviet behavior.
These two dominant perspectives—one treating foreign policy as a moral battle and the other as a psychological exercise—both failed to resolve the fundamental issue of how to negotiate with the Soviet Union. By the early 1970s, a more radical school of thought emerged, arguing that containment was unnecessary. Advocates of this view, such as Norman Mailer, claimed that communism would eventually collapse under its own contradictions, and that U.S. opposition only strengthened it. This perspective, which inverted containment doctrine, suggested that allowing communist expansion would accelerate its downfall. Some intellectuals supported this idea through “convergence theory,” which held that capitalist and communist societies were naturally evolving toward similar systems, making U.S. opposition to communism futile.
Traditional containment had led to diplomatic stagnation, while radical alternatives called for abandoning decades of commitment. Nixon rejected both extremes and instead prioritized national interest as the foundation of foreign policy. His annual presidential foreign policy reports, first issued in 1970, articulated this approach. These reports clarified that U.S. commitments were not static obligations but rather strategic choices shaped by national interests. Nixon emphasized that foreign policy should be based on a realistic assessment of interests, not legalistic commitments. In the U.S., this stance was groundbreaking—unlike European powers, where such pragmatism was taken for granted, American presidents had historically framed foreign policy in moral terms, making Nixon’s explicit prioritization of national interest highly unusual.
Nixon’s policy toward the Soviet Union reflected this realism. He dismissed both naïve optimism about Soviet intentions and ideological rigidity that precluded negotiation. Instead, he insisted that Soviet-American relations should be judged by concrete agreements based on mutual interests rather than abstract rhetoric. The 1971 foreign policy report reaffirmed that the U.S. would engage with the Soviet Union pragmatically, rejecting its internal system but focusing on its external behavior. This approach drew criticism, especially from conservatives who later argued that Nixon placed too much faith in Soviet leaders. However, Nixon’s emphasis on national interest was not about trusting Moscow but about ensuring a strategy that could both resist Soviet expansion and maintain domestic support.
In practice, Nixon’s stance on containment was no different from that of his predecessors like Acheson and Dulles or his successor Ronald Reagan. Despite ongoing Vietnam War challenges, his administration was quick to counter Soviet geopolitical moves, whether in Cuba, the Middle East, or South Asia. However, unlike Acheson and Dulles, Nixon did not insist on Soviet ideological transformation before engaging in negotiations. Instead, he adopted an approach reminiscent of Churchill, who had advocated talks with Moscow after Stalin’s death. Nixon believed that sustained diplomatic engagement and prolonged competition with the West would eventually push the Soviet system toward change, strengthening the position of democratic nations.
Nixon’s strategy of negotiations was designed not just to manage relations with the Soviet Union but also to allow the United States to reclaim the diplomatic initiative while still engaged in Vietnam. His goal was to contain the Peace Movement’s influence so that it remained focused on Vietnam rather than paralyzing all of U.S. foreign policy. More than a short-term tactic, Nixon and his advisors believed that a temporary alignment of interests between the two nuclear superpowers could allow for a period of eased tensions. The nuclear balance seemed to be stabilizing, and with the right negotiations or unilateral actions, it could be further solidified. The U.S. needed time to exit Vietnam and craft a new postwar foreign policy, while the Soviet Union, facing growing tensions with China, had an even stronger incentive to de-escalate. Nixon’s team calculated that prolonging Soviet engagement with the West would strain Moscow’s ability to maintain its empire, particularly given its economic stagnation. They believed time favored the United States, not the communist world.
Nixon’s approach to the Soviet Union was more sophisticated than that of his predecessors. He did not see the Cold War as a binary struggle of confrontation or appeasement but as a dynamic relationship with areas of both conflict and potential cooperation. His strategy—later caricatured as mere détente—was based on using cooperation in some areas to influence Soviet behavior in others. He sought to link different aspects of the superpower relationship, ensuring that Soviet incentives for engagement extended beyond arms control and into broader geopolitical moderation.
This policy of “linkage,” however, faced numerous challenges. One of the major obstacles was the strong focus among American policymakers on arms control. In earlier decades, disarmament had aimed to reduce weapon stockpiles to non-threatening levels, but in the nuclear age, such an objective was almost impossible. The unpredictability of a first-strike capability—where one side might be able to eliminate the other’s nuclear arsenal before retaliation—was a central concern. The work of Rand Corporation analyst Albert Wohlstetter in 1959 highlighted the instability of nuclear deterrence, showing that an adversary could, under certain conditions, strike first and emerge with an advantage. This fear of a surprise attack fueled intense academic and strategic discussions, shaping U.S. nuclear policy for decades.
As arms control debates intensified, they revealed their own set of problems. The complexity of the subject made it difficult for policymakers and the public to fully grasp, leading to heightened anxieties. The decisions about nuclear strategy were not made by scientists but by political leaders, who understood the catastrophic risks of miscalculation. Throughout the Cold War, neither the U.S. nor the Soviet Union had actual experience launching full-scale nuclear war scenarios, and neither side had ever tested a missile from an operational silo, making the entire concept of strategic stability theoretical. The fear of surprise attack was thus exaggerated by two opposing groups—those advocating for higher defense budgets to guard against such an attack and those who used it as an argument for reducing military expenditures.
During the height of arms control debates in the 1970s, conservative critics warned against trusting the Soviet leadership, while arms control advocates argued that agreements themselves contributed to an atmosphere of improved relations, regardless of their strategic value. This debate mirrored the earlier split between those who viewed the Cold War in ideological terms and those who saw it as a matter of psychological engagement with the Soviets. Initially, arms control was simply added to the containment strategy as a way to manage its risks, but over time, it became a substitute for serious diplomatic engagement. Instead of seeking political solutions, the U.S. and the Soviet Union focused on managing their rivalry through arms control negotiations, locking both sides into a prolonged stalemate.
By the time Nixon entered office, Congress and the media were pressuring him to start arms control negotiations with Moscow. However, he was reluctant to proceed as if nothing had happened just months after Soviet troops invaded Czechoslovakia. Nixon wanted to ensure that arms control talks would not serve as a cover for Soviet expansionism. His administration pursued “linkage,” hoping to use Soviet interest in negotiations to extract concessions on other critical issues, such as reducing tensions in Berlin, addressing Middle East conflicts, and most importantly, ending the Vietnam War.
In diplomacy, the ability to recognize interconnected issues is crucial. Nixon believed that diplomatic engagement in one area could not be entirely separated from confrontations elsewhere. He rejected the previous administration’s approach of treating arms control as an isolated issue, instead insisting that it be part of a broader strategic framework. He articulated this stance in a letter to his national security team on February 4, 1969, just two weeks after taking office. Nixon made it clear that while minor bilateral issues could be insulated from broader conflicts, major political and military challenges had to be addressed together.
The concept of linkage faced strong resistance from the foreign policy establishment. The American diplomatic bureaucracy, deeply invested in arms control and maintaining dialogue with Soviet “moderates,” opposed the idea of conditioning negotiations on Soviet behavior elsewhere. The press also contributed to undermining linkage. Leaks from inside the administration portrayed arms agreements as the primary goal of Nixon’s foreign policy, despite his insistence on broader strategic conditions. Reports in The New York Times and The Washington Post created expectations that arms talks with Moscow would begin within months, effectively pressuring the administration to move forward.
Critics in the media and academia attacked Nixon’s approach, arguing that tying arms control to broader geopolitical concerns was impractical. They dismissed trade restrictions and diplomatic leverage as “Cold War policies” inconsistent with Nixon’s own rhetoric about moving from confrontation to negotiation. Some argued that it was unrealistic to expect different international conflicts to be resolved in tandem. Nixon’s initial attempt to use linkage—by sending Cyrus Vance to Moscow to negotiate both arms control and Vietnam—failed because the two issues were too complex and involved different time scales.
Despite these obstacles, Nixon and his team eventually succeeded in integrating different strands of policy. The breakthrough came through an unexpected avenue—his dramatic opening to China. In diplomacy, having multiple strategic options limits an adversary’s choices and increases one’s leverage. By improving relations with China, Nixon ensured that the Soviet Union could no longer take for granted a permanent division between the world’s most powerful democracy and its most populous communist state. Moscow now had to consider the possibility of Sino-American cooperation, which forced it to adopt a more cautious approach toward the U.S.
This shift was critical to Nixon’s broader strategy. If the Soviet Union feared closer U.S.-China ties, it would be more likely to moderate its global behavior to avoid pushing Washington and Beijing into an anti-Soviet alignment. In this way, the U.S.-China rapprochement became a key element of Nixon’s Soviet policy, reinforcing his efforts to achieve a more favorable balance of power and influence global Cold War dynamics.
The long-standing American hostility toward Communist China began after the 1949 civil war victory of Mao Zedong’s forces and intensified with China’s intervention in the Korean War in 1950. The United States responded by isolating Beijing diplomatically, exemplified by Secretary of State John Foster Dulles’ refusal to shake hands with Premier Zhou Enlai at the 1954 Geneva Conference. For decades, the only diplomatic channel between the two nations was sporadic ambassadorial meetings in Warsaw, which mostly involved exchanging hostilities. The rupture deepened during China’s Cultural Revolution, a period of mass upheaval comparable to Stalin’s purges, during which China recalled almost all of its ambassadors, effectively ending what little diplomatic contact remained with the United States.
While American policymakers largely ignored the potential strategic benefits of the Sino-Soviet split, two of Europe’s most seasoned statesmen, Konrad Adenauer and Charles de Gaulle, saw an opportunity. By the late 1950s, Adenauer speculated that Sino-Soviet tensions could be leveraged to the West’s advantage, though West Germany lacked the diplomatic power to act. De Gaulle, however, was not constrained by such limitations. He recognized early on that the Soviet Union faced a serious challenge along its vast Chinese border and believed this would push Moscow toward greater cooperation with the West. His vision of a Franco-Soviet détente, which he hoped would dismantle the Cold War division of Europe, was ultimately unrealistic—Paris was not powerful enough for Moscow to consider it an equal partner. Nevertheless, his fundamental analysis was correct: the Soviet-Chinese split presented an opportunity for Western diplomacy.
In Washington, however, views on China remained deeply entrenched along Cold War ideological lines. Some Sinologists argued that the U.S. should improve relations by recognizing Beijing diplomatically and allowing it to take China’s seat at the United Nations. But the dominant view held that Communist China was expansionist, ideologically rigid, and determined to spread revolution. This perception had justified American involvement in Vietnam, which was seen as a way to counter China-led communist expansion in Southeast Asia. Even some of the same Sovietologists who had long urged dialogue with Moscow now argued that opening ties with Beijing would provoke the Soviets and risk confrontation.
Nixon and his administration rejected the notion that isolating China was in America’s interest. He viewed diplomacy with Beijing as an essential tool for strengthening America’s global position. In a 1968 policy statement during Nelson Rockefeller’s presidential bid, Nixon had written that the U.S. should “begin a dialogue with communist China” as part of a strategic triangular relationship with Moscow and Beijing. Later that year, he reiterated this idea in Foreign Affairs, writing that the U.S. could not afford to leave China “in angry isolation.” Nixon’s approach was grounded in strategic pragmatism—expanding U.S. diplomatic options would make both China and the Soviet Union more cautious in their dealings with Washington.
In reality, China’s eventual move toward rejoining the international community was driven less by a desire for dialogue with the U.S. and more by fear of its supposed ally, the Soviet Union. Washington’s understanding of the Sino-Soviet relationship evolved dramatically in early 1969 after a series of border clashes between Chinese and Soviet forces along the Ussuri River. Initially, U.S. officials assumed these incidents were provoked by China’s radical leadership. However, Soviet diplomats’ unusual eagerness to brief Washington on the conflict raised suspicions. Intelligence assessments soon revealed that the skirmishes consistently occurred near Soviet supply bases rather than Chinese positions—suggesting that Moscow, not Beijing, was the aggressor. A massive Soviet military buildup along the 4,000-mile border further reinforced the possibility that the Soviet Union was considering military action against China.
If the Nixon administration’s analysis was correct, a Soviet attack on China would trigger the most dangerous global crisis since the Cuban Missile Crisis. Should Moscow attempt to impose its dominance over China as it had over Czechoslovakia in 1968, the world’s most populous country would become a subordinate client of the Soviet Union—recreating the feared Sino-Soviet bloc of the 1950s. This was a scenario Washington could not afford to ignore. A successful Soviet assault on China would irreversibly alter the global balance of power, and waiting until after the fact to react would be too late.
Recognizing the urgency, Nixon made two key decisions in mid-1969. First, he set aside the long-standing issues in U.S.-China relations, such as Taiwan and trade disputes, to focus instead on the broader geopolitical picture. If China and the Soviet Union were more fearful of each other than of the U.S., a unique opportunity for diplomacy existed. Nixon calculated that a strategic shift in Sino-American relations could emerge naturally, with traditional disputes resolving themselves as cooperation deepened.
The second and more daring decision was to issue a veiled warning to the Soviet Union that the United States would not stand idly by if Moscow attacked China. On September 5, 1969, Undersecretary of State Elliot Richardson delivered a carefully crafted statement declaring that the U.S. was “deeply concerned” about any escalation of the Sino-Soviet conflict. Though framed in neutral terms, this was a clear message that Washington would not tolerate Soviet aggression against Beijing. By refusing to exploit the Sino-Soviet divide but making clear that it could, Nixon signaled to both Moscow and Beijing that a realignment of U.S. policy was underway.
In 1970 and 1971, Nixon’s annual foreign policy reports reinforced this message. He stated that the U.S. was prepared to open direct dialogue with China while making it clear that America had no intention of colluding with the Soviet Union against Beijing. This strategy subtly pressured both communist powers to seek improved relations with Washington. If either side feared the U.S. shifting closer to its rival, it had an incentive to moderate its behavior toward the U.S.
Despite these signals, forging a new relationship with China proved challenging due to decades of isolation. Beijing, in particular, struggled to find a way to communicate its intentions to Washington. In 1969, Chinese Defense Minister Lin Biao quietly dropped references to the U.S. as China’s primary enemy, acknowledging the Soviet Union as an equal threat—an essential prerequisite for Nixon’s triangular diplomacy. However, China’s efforts to signal its openness were often misunderstood in Washington. For instance, when Mao seated American journalist Edgar Snow beside him at the 1970 National Day parade and later invited Nixon to visit China through an interview with Snow, the message never reached the U.S. government because Snow was considered a communist sympathizer and not a credible intermediary.
In December 1969, formal diplomatic contact resumed in Warsaw, but these ambassadorial talks quickly stalled. Both sides were constrained by their traditional negotiating positions and the need to consult with domestic political stakeholders. Progress remained slow until Pakistan, which maintained relations with both Washington and Beijing, stepped in to facilitate backchannel diplomacy. This effort culminated in Nixon’s historic decision to send Henry Kissinger on a secret trip to Beijing in July 1971.
When Kissinger arrived, he found Chinese leaders remarkably receptive to Nixon’s style of diplomacy. Like Nixon, they prioritized strategic alignment over ideological disputes. Mao Zedong, Zhou Enlai, and later Deng Xiaoping each embodied a distinctive leadership style—Mao as the visionary revolutionary, Zhou as the sophisticated statesman, and Deng as the pragmatic reformer. Unlike their Soviet counterparts, who focused on rigid bargaining and relentless pressure tactics, Chinese leaders engaged in broad, conceptual discussions aimed at building confidence. Mao, for example, quickly assured Nixon that Taiwan was not an immediate concern: “We can do without them for the time being, and let it come after 100 years.”
The Nixon-Mao meeting laid the groundwork for the Shanghai Communiqué, signed in 1972. This agreement was unique in its structure—rather than masking differences, it openly acknowledged the conflicting views of both sides on key issues such as Taiwan, Vietnam, and ideology. However, the communiqué also affirmed crucial points of agreement: both nations opposed any country’s dominance in Asia, supported the reduction of military conflicts, and committed to improving bilateral relations. In essence, while the U.S. and China were not formal allies, they had agreed to resist Soviet expansionism together.
Over the next year, this alignment became even clearer. A 1973 joint communiqué upgraded their stance from merely opposing “Asian domination” to resisting any country’s pursuit of “world domination”—a not-so-subtle reference to Soviet ambitions. In less than two years, U.S.-China relations had shifted from decades of hostility to an implicit strategic partnership against the Soviet Union.
Nixon’s opening to China reshaped global diplomacy, not through manipulation but by creating a framework in which both countries’ interests naturally aligned. The so-called “China card” was not something the U.S. could play at will—rather, it was the inevitable result of China’s fear of Soviet aggression and America’s desire to balance power. By carefully managing this realignment, Nixon restored American diplomatic flexibility, proving that even ideological adversaries could find common ground when strategic imperatives dictated it.
After America’s opening to China, the Soviet Union faced pressure on two fronts—NATO in the West and China in the East—forcing it to reconsider its strategy. Fearing a deeper Sino-American alliance, Moscow shifted toward détente with Washington, even proposing a quasi-alliance against Beijing, which Nixon rejected. Instead, the U.S. balanced both powers, ensuring Soviet moderation while keeping China engaged as a counterweight.
Despite predictions that U.S.-China rapprochement would harm Soviet relations, the opposite occurred. The Kremlin, which had stalled on a summit with Nixon, quickly reversed course after Kissinger’s secret trip to Beijing, accelerating negotiations. Nixon’s foreign policy, grounded in national interest rather than ideology, reshaped global diplomacy but lacked emotional appeal for Americans accustomed to moralistic rhetoric. Unlike Dulles or Reagan, Nixon’s pragmatic approach struggled to connect with a society divided by Vietnam and later crippled by Watergate.
Without Watergate, Nixon might have solidified his strategy, proving that realism could serve American ideals. Instead, the combination of Vietnam and scandal undermined national unity, preventing a lasting consensus on America’s global role, even as Nixon left the country in a position of strategic dominance.
You can read the summary of the next chapter of the book by clicking this link.
Leave a Reply