HANDED a final draft of the radio address summarizing President Nixon's 180-page report to the Congress on "U.S. Foreign Policy for the 1970s," Presidential Special Assistant William Safire read it through, pronounced it "fine," but predicted that it "would not set the world on fire." The President smiled and replied: "The whole point of our foreign policy is not to set the world on fire." Indeed, the full report is a refreshingly cool and realistic appraisal of the current state of world politics. A sweeping outline of the evolving Nixon foreign policy, it is the most detailed (and should be, at 65,000 words) presidential document yet issued on world affairs. It expresses the current confidence of the Administration in its ability to cope with new realities. Says Nixon: "We have set a new direction. We are on course."
In preparation for months by Presidential Assistant Henry Kissinger and his staff, the report is essentially an elaboration of the Nixon Doctrine, first announced on Guam 19 months ago and more formally enunciated in the President's first "State of the World" report last year. This year's report avoids the vagueness of last year's, and applies that doctrine more specifically to world trouble spots and to other powers, particularly the Soviet Union. It combines a tough-minded analysis with a flexibility in approach that should aid the quest for peace.
Candor with Moscow. The report concentrates on explaining that the Nixon Doctrine—which calls for a more realistic meshing of United States commitments with actual capabilities—has a stern side and is not a sophisticated rationalization for a new isolationism. Its core philosophy is that "no nation has the wisdom, and the understanding and the energy required to act wisely on all problems, at all times, in every part of the world." Nixon shows the importance he attaches to the doctrine by mentioning it in his report no fewer than 35 times. Still, critics have claimed that the concept can serve as a convenient catchall explanation for any expedient national act—or failure to act—in any international crisis.
Nixon admits that "the American people have grown somewhat weary of 25 years of international burdens," and that this weariness was "hastened by the anguish of the Viet Nam War." But he warns that "we cannot let the pendulum swing in the other direction, sweeping us toward an isolationism which could be as disastrous as excessive zeal." Nor can U.S. policy change too precipitously. "We cannot abandon friends, and must not transfer burdens too swiftly. We must strike a balance between doing too much and thus preventing self-reliance and doing too little and thus undermining self-confidence."