The Foreign Service Journal, September 2008

has been constant. We abhor racial policies which by law separate men and deny them rights solely on the basis of the color of their skin.” David was particularly proud of being the first assistant secretary asked to address the annual meeting of the African Studies Association— a group often critical of U.S. policy. It was an unusual gesture, and the 1973 ASA citation read in part: “He has truly earned the admiration and respect of the Africanist community in this country and abroad for his forthright exposition of American policies and his advocacy, often but not always in vain, of proper regard for African values in American diplo- matic thinking.” Amb. Newsom was often called upon to testify before Congress and sometimes to suffer through tirades from the likes of Rep. Otto Passman, D-La. The House Subcommittee on Africa nevertheless gave him a glow- ing certificate of appreciation. Sen. William Fulbright, D-Ark., told him he was among the very best State Department officials who had ever testified before him. Overseas, he was a model ambas- sador, ably supported by his smart, beautiful and stylish wife, Jean, even as she oversaw the welfare of their five talented children. One senior CIA officer told me David was the best of nine ambassadors under whom he had served. With those piercing blue eyes and that firm handshake, one could sense his drive and determination, which he combined with — well — just plain decency. An Uncanny Sensitivity George Kennan once said that the greatest weakness of American for- eign policy is our failure to under- stand and factor into our policy the fact that foreign countries often look at the world differently than we do. To my mind, David Newsom pos- sessed an uncanny sensitivity to the requirements — foreign and domes- tic — of a successful foreign policy. He had an intuitive grasp of for- eign cultures — he even wrote a major book on the subject, The Imperial Mantle: The United States, Decolonization and the Third World (Indiana University Press, 2001). As he put it in his homespun Californian way: “Always try to find out what the real problem is.” He knew how to talk convincingly to sovereigns. This, aided by his empathy, allowed him to make some difficult points — for instance, on corruption in Libya — without destroying a relationship. In the department, he had to find approaches to an idiosyncratic leader- ship in Libya and to salvaging a rela- tionship with Nigeria during the Biafran crisis. As under secretary, he sometimes had to impart unwelcome views to the U.S. political level when their wishful thinking did not match the situation on the ground. He could be equally blunt with the Foreign Service, lamenting its disre- gard for the context in which our political leaders operate and decrying its cavalier attitude at times toward Congress and the press. This did not prevent him, however, from question- ing, as a founder of the American Academy of Diplomacy, the large number of ambassadorial political appointees. He called the appoint- ment of non-career ambassadors “one of the last unchallenged forms of political patronage.” He was always generous in praise of others: to Deputy Secretary of State Warren Christopher and Assist- ant Secretary for Near East and South Asian Affairs Harold (Hal) Saunders for their key roles in resolving the Iran crisis; and to Assistant Secretary for African Affairs Chet Crocker for his “remarkable feat of diplomacy” in bringing some peace to southern Africa. As under secretary for political affairs, David liked to call himself “the utility infielder of the seventh floor.” His superiors sensed his wis- dom and wide-ranging experience. So they threw him into difficult issues: the Soviet brigade in Cuba; the rise of Solidarity in Poland; the death of Tito; the sanctions imposed on the Soviets after their invasion of Afghanistan; and — toughest of all — the Iranian Revolution and hostage crisis. Courage To me, David’s noblest quality was his courage — combined with his dis- cipline. He showed it throughout his career: for example, in rejecting ill- considered proposals to invade Libya after Qadhafi’s 1969 coup and in resisting congressional pressure to recognize Biafra’s secession from Nigeria. But nowhere was it in great- er evidence than in his conduct dur- ing the Iranian Revolution. Despite the fact that Embassy Tehran had previously been briefly overrun by revolutionaries, the Carter administration gave in to political pressure to admit the former shah to the U.S. for medical treatment. David aroused hostility in this town and elsewhere for consistently being opposed to admitting the shah — and perhaps doubly so when his predic- tion of trouble turned out to be true. He withstood this hostility heroically and never took an “I-told-you-so” atti- tude — either publicly or privately. 66 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / S E P T E M B E R 2 0 0 8 As under secretary for political affairs, David liked to call himself “the utility infielder of the seventh floor.”