With the current high drama in our national life, commenced on
September 11, 2001, it may seem odd to suggest an interest in the
life and diplomacy of Charles Evans Hughes, Secretary of State from
1921 to 1925 under Presidents Harding and Coolidge. At first glance,
his times seem much less daunting than ours: a period of peace,
burgeoning prosperity and, flappers and Prohibition aside, what
President Harding called "normalcy." But, in truth, Hughes became
Secretary of State at a critical juncture. The United States had been
tested by a horrific world war and had emerged divided over its
proper international role. The awesome mortality rate of that war
(more than 50,000 American soldiers were killed in action), and the
use of poison gas as a method in it, alarmed many Americans. Just
beneath the surface, too, many feared exposure to the historic
vulnerabilities of the Old World, as if America's exceptional
circumstance in history--having enjoyed sanctuary from attack by two
surrounding oceans and two unthreatening neighbors--was melting away
before a prospective devastation so frightening as to virtually
paralyze imagination and response. And with Woodrow Wilson
incapacitated by a stroke and Theodore Roosevelt deceased, America
was without prominent statesmen to guide it.

In other ways, too, Hughes encountered a turbulent international
scene for which few precedents existed to guide him. As the major
creditor nation after the Great War and a leading world power, the
United States was destined to assume a major role in international
affairs. The war, however, had left the nation so mired in dissension
and disillusionment that most Americans rejected any overseas
political or military commitments. Hughes was keenly aware of the
dangerous gap between what America was required to do in its own
interest and what American public opinion would tolerate.

Despite such obstacles, Hughes revealed himself to be a determined
activist once in office. He frequently offended those who differed
from him, as well as those who resented his blunt and overbearing
manner. He broke with the conventional diplomatic etiquette of the
times in which patience and decorum were central; he opted instead
for boldness and results, and so managed to guide an ambivalent
nation away from "rank isolationism." As we shall see, Hughes was not
without his character flaws, and he made mistakes; but he met
unprecedented times with unprecedented creativity and energy.

A Judge's Journey

Charles Evans Hughes was born on April 11, 1862, the son of a Baptist
minister from Wales. He was raised in upstate New York State in
strict observance of the classic virtues of frugality, honesty and
hard work. Graduating with honors at 19 from Brown University, he
then received a law degree from Columbia while simultaneously
attaining a Master of Arts from Brown. His brilliance in law was
aptly demonstrated in his first public assignment, when he was chosen
by the New York State legislature in 1905 to investigate corrupt gas
and insurance companies. Hughes went from success to success in his
public career, serving as the governor of New York State (1907-10),
an associate justice to the U.S. Supreme Court (1910-16) and
Republican candidate for the presidency in 1916. (Despite lingering
divisions in the Republican Party from Theodore Roosevelt's 1912
"Bull Moose" adventure and Hughes' own ineptness as a campaigner, he
lost to the incumbent Wilson by only 23 electoral votes.)

In 1921, Warren Harding named Hughes his Secretary of State. As a
condition of accepting the post, Hughes insisted on "free rein" to
run the State Department and to set the nation's foreign policy
agenda. Harding and his successor Coolidge, who both admitted their
meager knowledge of foreign matters and were primarily concerned with
domestic problems, granted Hughes' request. (Both men also knew that,
had Hughes not withdrawn from the 1920 presidential contest over the
death of his daughter, Helen, he would most likely have been elected
the 29th president.) At a February 19, 1921 press conference, President-elect Harding reiterated that his administration's style of operation in foreign policy would be more open than that of the outgoing
Wilson Administration. Declining to comment on foreign policy issues
himself, Harding stressed that Hughes was to be the State
Department's only spokesman: "You must ask Mr. Hughes that", he told
the assembled reporters.

Dignified in appearance and nationally known, Hughes carried an aura
of respectability and authority that no other statesman of his day
could match--or that a president could deny. Whereas Wilson had
overshadowed his secretaries of state--William Jennings Bryan with
some difficulty and then Robert Lansing with greater ease--Hughes
overshadowed his presidents.

He faced an entirely different situation with regard to the Senate,
however. Accustomed to asserting their right to intervene at will in
foreign policy matters, many Senators viewed the Hughes nomination as
a threat to their prerogatives. Others feared the resumption of
debate over the League of Nations; indeed, the irreconcilables and
isolationists in the Senate bristled at the thought of "a whiskered
Wilson" in an influential position. This was an inaccurate
characterization. Like Wilson, Hughes was imbued with strong moral
principles that he believed committed a society to the rule of law.
Like Wilson, too, Hughes held that international society would do
well to abide by the law to the extent possible, and that
international institutions could play a constructive role in ensuring
peace, progress and prosperity. But Hughes was not an idealist. He
recognized the irreplaceable role of power standing behind principle
and the more than occasionally base proclivities of human nature.
Hughes was a moralist as befitted the temper of his times, but he
loathed the kind of moralism that sacrificed consequences to
high-sounding intentions. Wilson, after all, was a college president,
but Hughes was a judge.

Whatever its sources, the Senate's attitude warned Hughes to proceed
with care if his foreign policy program was to win congressional
approval. He avoided controversial issues such as relations with the
League of Nations that might antagonize those Senators who possessed
the power to block other important initiatives. Thanks to his adroit
planning, more treaties and agreements won congressional approval on
Hughes' watch than in any previous administration.

An astute politician in many but not all respects, Hughes not only
managed to influence the Senate, but the Fourth Estate as well. He
recognized the immense power of the media to sway public opinion and
utilized fully the services of the press to present his case. To
dispel misconceptions and plain ignorance about current events, as
well as to satisfy the country's demands for prompt disclosure,
Hughes briefed journalists daily, circumstances permitting. Unlike
Wilson's hamstrung secretaries of state, Hughes provided detailed
answers to questions and often gave comprehensive reviews of current
issues. Far from some initial portrayals depicting him as austere and
cold, the press corps soon found Hughes witty and forthright.
Innumerable anecdotes were reported regarding Hughes' amazing
intellectual talents. At a glance Hughes could run down a printed
page and remember it verbatim. One instance concerned a three-page
typewritten memo prepared for public announcement. It arrived late;
nevertheless, Hughes quickly read it, put it in his pocket, and then
delivered the contents from memory. When reporters' transcripts were
later compared with the original version, only one minor discrepancy
was discovered.

Setting Up Shop

When Hughes arrived at the State Department in March 1921, a
demanding agenda inherited from the Wilson Administration awaited
him. Hughes lamented that "a worse tangle" of unattended issues on
multiple fronts had yet to be found. The United States was
technically still at war with the Central Powers. Bitter arguments
among the Allies over Germany's reparations delayed a return to
stability and prosperity in Europe. Relations with Mexico were in chaos, and American interventions in Santo Domingo, Nicaragua and Haiti w
ere accompanied by full-throated cries of Yankee imperialism. In the
Far East, instability in China and a restless Japan threatened the
"Open Door" policy designed to protect China's territorial integrity
and guarantee equal trading opportunities. Japan, though an ally
during the recent war, distrusted American intentions in the Pacific
and had embarked on a costly naval armament program that was
attracting anxious attention.

Establishing order out of chaos was Hughes' strongest suit. Upon
becoming Secretary of State, he exercised his talents in concentric
circles, first tending to his own office, then to the department,
then to the Foreign Service, and finally to Congress and the world at
large. He knew that before he could launch his foreign policies, he
had to address a sobering reality: his personal office was short of
competent staff and the State Department as a whole was a mess.

Hughes started with his own staff, quickly assembling a talented
group of career diplomats, many of whom were brought in from overseas
positions. The staff was restructured into regional bureaus, allowing
members to specialize in a particular field. Within easy reach of his
senior officers, Hughes would call on them at a moment's notice,
making requests and expecting instant responses. William Phillips,
his undersecretary in 1922, recalled:

"At odd and often inconvenient moments during the day, my buzzer
would resound with devastating insistence, commanding my immediate
attendance on the Secretary. If I delayed a moment, I would detect a
certain impatience on the Secretary's part, so eager was he to get on
with the day's agenda."