Kissinger

Twenty years ago, I spend a lot of time researching, writing and then trying to publicise a play about Henry Kissinger. I read four separate biographies and a lot of supplementary material, and I was convinced I’d discovered a central character worthy of a Shakespearean tragedy. I had a little notice posted on my study wall, giving Kissinger’s date of birth, with the hopeful reminder that “he could die any time.”

Finally, it’s happened, and my play is no nearer seeing the light of day than it was then, although I’m now reconciled to that. But what does linger was the discrepancy between his self-image - the wise, detached analyst of political reality - and the grim reality of the Nixon tapes, where Kissinger is the endless butt of anti-semitic jokes which he accepts or ignores. He plays along with the crude threats the Nixon gang make about what they will do to their enemies, exploding the excuses Kissinger will later make about the calculations he had to make as the price of exerting political influence.

I look forward to someone doing justice to this ludicrously eventful career, and the various settings in which Kissinger’s influence was exerted.