Going to Windward: A Mosbacher Family Memoir

19: Actions, Not Just Words

Chapter 19 Actions, Not Just Words As a mild tropical nightfall fell kindly and gently across Caracas, Venezuela , I was capping a full day of meetings and speeches by leading an American trade delegation over to Miraflores Palace for a night meeting with President Carlos Andres Perez. Built before the turn of the century and long the home of the Venezuelan president, Miraflores was a charming executive mansion. Like our own White House, it is smallish but dignified, perched upon a modest bluff overlooking the Caracas Valley below. Inside, the palacio showcases national treasures from furniture, to murals, to the works of classic Venezuelan painters such as Arturo Michelena, Cristobal Mendoza, Martín Tovar y Tovar, and Tito Salas. Even though it was always among the most blessed South American countries in terms of natural resources—particularly oil—Venezuela had struggled to manage that wealth. During the drive into Caracas from the airport, I saw how the hillsides were choked with shantytowns and thousands of shacks— their rusty, worn tin roofs dully reflecting the sun. Now in his second stint as president, Perez was under public fire stemming from the economic difficulties his nation faced. Yet, though he was under political siege, so much so that he would be forced to survive two coup attempts the following year, his genial demeanor prevailed during our private meeting in his office. Next door, our delegation and the Venezuelan trade minister waited in the large and ornate Salon de Espejos. Not long into my private meeting with President Perez, one of his aides silently , efficiently appeared in the room and handed him a note—which Perez, somewhat irritated at the interruption, placed in his lap without reading. We continued our conversation; but after a few minutes the aide returned, whispered somewhat urgently in Perez’s ear, and gestured to the unread note in his lap. Perez paused to take up the small card, and studied its contents. His demeanor , which had been friendly and warm, took on a more sober, somber visage. Gone was the easy smile. “Mr. Secretary,” Perez finally said, “your government has initiated the air campaign against Iraq. The United States is at war.” Actions, Not Just Words 夝 247 I had known the war was coming—we all did. George Bush had been very up front with the American people, with Iraq, and the global community that Saddam Hussein’s unprovoked aggression against Kuwait would not be permitted to stand. The only question in mid-January 1991 was the precise hour when Operation Desert Shield to defend the rest of Arabian peninsula would became Operation Desert Storm to liberate Kuwait. Still, the news that we had indeed crossed that dangerous rubicon—that a state of war now existed—startled me. It was hard to believe Saddam had so misjudged the United States, much less his chances to prevail. Moreover, it saddened me to recognize that many lives would be lost on both sides of the conflict—including innocent victims. Given the gravity of the situation, I felt compelled to express my strongly felt belief that Kuwait must be liberated, and Saddam not permitted to profit from his reckless disregard for the rule of international law. “Iraq’s aggression against a free nation should be unacceptable to every free nation,” I emphatically told Perez. “I can assure you we take this situation very, very seriously.” “You’re right,” Perez quickly added, without hesitation. “Saddam must exit Kuwait.” Later that night, Perez took to the Venezuelan airwaves to offer his full support for the coalition’s efforts in Desert Storm. What a stark contrast that memory presents in light of today’s regrettable leadership in Caracas, and the state of relations between our two nations today. I returned to Washington the following afternoon, heading straight from the airport to the White House for the administration’s first meeting as a wartime Cabinet. Secretary Cheney and General Colin Powell, the chairman of the joint chiefs, had already briefed the public about our initial, encouraging success; and the president had already briefed congressional leaders that morning. What was most striking to me about that afternoon Cabinet session was not the content of our discussion—the president was not going to get into operational specifics— but the calm, determined manner I saw my friend demonstrate as the weight of the world was placed squarely on his shoulders. In my view, January 1991 was perhaps the most dramatic month official Washington had seen since the fall...