Flirtatious and ferocious at the same time, Secretary of State Madeleine Albright stamps the world stage over Kosovo, threatening fire from heaven if Serbian strongman Slobodan Milosevic does not agree to peace terms. Just as over Bosnia, she may even believe what she says. Unfortunately, the Serb leader is much better informed. He knows that whatever the public differences, Belgrade and Washington are united in wanting to avoid NATO airstrikes (even if they come to pass). Albright’s grandstanding is a necessary part of the charade in which the United States acts scary and the Serbs act scared.
With her ability to be stridently parochial, and insular as well, in six different languages, Madeleine Albright has been the perfect Secretary of State for this Administration. Never one to let substance interfere with a good soundbite, she has reinvented herself whenever it has been advantageous to her ambitions.
But does she really merit a biography on the scale of Seasons of Her Life? As Ann Blackman frames the problem, “What makes her, among all the other brilliant men and women in America, stand out?” Almost inadvertently, emerging from Blackman’s hard work is a portrait of Albright that shows she would be outstanding mainly by dint of her mediocrity in any such gathering (thus well meriting the nickname Madeleine Halfbright, which State Department staff members gave her after her appointment as US ambassador to the UN).
However, she would also stand out for her burning ambition–and for her intensive cultivation of social and political connections of the kind available to someone of substantial wealth. (Madame Secretary benefited from a generous divorce settlement after what she has described as a “Cinderella marriage” to a millionaire.) Blackman actually writes that “Albright’s greatest appeal is that she is just like us, only wealthier”! This has perhaps unwitting overtones of Hemingway’s putdown of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s remark about the rich–“They are different from you and me”: “Yes, they have more money.” But it really sums up the secret of Albright’s success more aptly than any neofeminist reading of progress from the log cabin of Kinder, Küche, Kirche to political glory.
In becoming the first woman to head the State Department, Albright achieved cult status in some superficially minded quarters. People Blackman terms the golden girls–Democrats like Barbara Mikulski, Barbara Kennelly and Anne Wexler–spoke out prominently in her favor, for example. But many of us who followed the careers of Golda Meir, Margaret Thatcher and Indira Gandhi need convincing that the absence of cojones in itself guarantees wisdom, virtue or empathetic statesmanship. Even so, those redoubtable women, political warts and all, were elected despite their sex. Blackman’s account makes it clear that Albright was appointed to public office by a symbol-sensitive White House because she was a woman. “Frankly, [President Clinton] wanted another woman in the cabinet,” Blackman quotes a wisely anonymous but assumedly knowledgeable source as saying. In fact, cojones did help Albright directly, since her use of the word at the United Nations over Castro’s downing of a flight of Cuban exiles helped lock her in the media eye as a staunch anticommunist–and an electoral asset for the President in Florida.