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Summary
Summary
Winner of the Pulitzer Prize
Winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award
Selected by The New York Times Book Review as a Notable Book of the Year
Drawing on extensive interviews with George Kennan and exclusive access to his archives, an eminent scholar of the Cold War delivers a revelatory biography of its troubled mastermind.
In the late 1940s, George Kennan wrote two documents, the "Long Telegram" and the "X Article," which set forward the strategy of containment that would define U.S. policy toward the Soviet Union for the next four decades. This achievement alone would qualify him as the most influential American diplomat of the Cold War era. But he was also an architect of the Marshall Plan, a prizewinning historian, and would become one of the most outspoken critics of American diplomacy, politics, and culture during the last half of the twentieth century. Now the full scope of Kennan's long life and vast influence is revealed by one of today's most important Cold War scholars.
Yale historian John Lewis Gaddis began this magisterial history almost thirty years ago, interviewing Kennan frequently and gaining complete access to his voluminous diaries and other personal papers. So frank and detailed were these materials that Kennan and Gaddis agreed that the book would not appear until after Kennan's death. It was well worth the wait: the journals give this book a breathtaking candor and intimacy that match its century-long sweep.
We see Kennan's insecurity as a Midwesterner among elites at Princeton, his budding dissatisfaction with authority and the status quo, his struggles with depression, his gift for satire, and his sharp insights on the policies and people he encountered. Kennan turned these sharp analytical gifts upon himself, even to the point of regularly recording dreams. The result is a remarkably revealing view of how this greatest of Cold War strategists came to doubt his strategy and always doubted himself.
This is a landmark work of history and biography that reveals the vast influence and rich inner landscape of a life that both mirrored and shaped the century it spanned.
Author Notes
John Lewis Gaddis (born 1941 in Cotulla, Texas, U.S.) is a noted historian of the Cold War and grand strategy, who has been hailed as the "Dean of Cold War Historians" by the New York Times. Cold War (Allen Lane, 2006) was Waterstone's Book of the Month. He is the Robert A. Lovett Professor of Military and Naval History at Yale University.
Reviews (6)
Publisher's Weekly Review
No one is better suited than Gaddis to write this authorized biography of George F. Kennan: the noted Yale cold war historian had total access to Kennan's papers as well as to his family members and associates-Kennan so trusted his biographer that he remarked, "write [the book], if you will, on the confident assumption that no account need be taken of my own reaction... either in this world or the next." Through his privileged relationship with Kennan, Gaddis reveals the man behind the public persona as an agonized and fragile individual who often felt alienated from the U.S. and his fellow citizens, despite his tireless service to his country. In addition to the intimacies of the work, Gaddis offers critical analyses of Kennan's key roles as diplomat, policy maker, and scholar of Russian history. Unsurpassed in his strategic vision during the cold war, Kennan is credited with being responsible for much of America's eventual victory, and therein lies the impetus behind this remarkable biography. Adroitly managed (if occasionally barnacled with extraneous facts), Gaddis's work is a major contribution to Kennan's legacy and the history of American foreign policy. (Nov.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
*Starred Review* Diplomat and historian Kennan (1904-2005) cooperated with this biography that in its documentary thoroughness and lucidity about his enigmatic, fragile personality must stand as the definitive portrait. Of undoubted brilliance in his adulthood, Kennan throughout his life was acutely sensitive, solitary, often pessimistic, but ultimately philosophical an outlook encapsulated in his Around the Cragged Hill (1993). The youthful sources of those traits Gaddis roots in feelings of abandonment provoked by the premature death of Kennan's mother, in testing experiences in military school and Princeton University, and in rapidly maturing appreciations for the behaviors of governments, his own and others, while he was a young foreign service officer in the 1920s and 1930s. An inveterate diarist and letter writer, Kennan probably deluged Gaddis with his interior life, which seemed beset by self-doubt and despair over matters personal (Kennan apparently had several affairs) and public. Apart from the years 1946-50, politicians ignored his advice and prophecies on world politics, but within that window, Kennan was uniquely influential as the enunciator of containment policy toward the Soviet Union during the early Cold War. The work of an eminent historian of that very subject, Gaddis' biography is doubly significant and a new essential in any reading, recreational or scholarly, in the history of American foreign policy.--Taylor, Gilbert Copyright 2010 Booklist
New York Review of Books Review
While writing this essay, I asked several young men and women what George F. Kennan meant to them. As it turned out, nearly all were essentially oblivious of the man or his role in shaping American foreign policy. Yet Kennan had fashioned the concept of containment in the name of which the cold war was conducted and won and almost concurrently had also expressed some of the most trenchant criticism of the way his own theory was being implemented. To the present generation, Kennan has receded into a vague past as has their parents' struggle to bring forth a new international order amid the awesome, unprecedented power of nuclear weapons. For the surviving participants in the emotions of that period, this state of affairs inspires melancholy reflections about the relevance of history in the age of the Internet and the 24-hour news cycle. Fortunately, John Lewis Gaddis, a distinguished professor of history and strategy at Yale, has brought again to life the dilemmas and aspirations of those pivotal decades of the mid-20th century. His magisterial work, "George F. Kennan; An American Life," bids fair to be as close to the final word as possible on one of the most important, complex, moving, challenging and exasperating American public servants. The reader should know that for the past decade, I have occasionally met with the students of the Grand Strategy seminar John Gaddis conducts at Yale and that we encounter each other on social occasions from time to time. But Gaddis's work is seminal and beyond personal relationships. George Kennan's thought suffused American foreign policy on both sides of the intellectual and ideological dividing lines for nearly half a century. Yet the highest position he ever held was ambassador to Moscow for five months in 1952 and to Yugoslavia for two years in the early 1960s. In Washington, he never rose above director of policy planning at the State Department, a position he occupied from 1947 to 1950. Yet his precepts helped shape both the foreign policy of the cold war as well as the arguments of its opponents after he renounced - early on - the application of his maxims. A brilliant analyst of long-term trends and a singularly gifted prose stylist, Kennan, as a relatively junior Foreign Service officer, served in the entourages of Secretaries of State George C. Marshall and Dean Acheson. His fluency in German and Russian, as well as his knowledge of those countries' histories and literary traditions, combined with a commanding, if contradictory, personality. Kennan was austere yet could also be convivial, playing his guitar at embassy events; pious but given to love affairs (in the management of which he later instructed his son in writing); endlessly introspective and ultimately remote. He was, a critic once charged, "an impressionist, a poet, not an earthling." For all these qualities - and perhaps because of them - Kennan was never vouchsafed the opportunity actually to execute his sensitive and farsighted visions at the highest levels of government. And he blighted his career in government by a tendency to recoil from the implications of his own views. The debate in America' between idealism and realism, which continues to this day, played itself out inside Kennan's soul. Though he often expressed doubt about the ability of bis fellow Americans to grasp the complexity of his perceptions, he also reflected in his own person a very American ambivalence about the nature and purpose of foreign policy. When his analytical brilliance was rewarded with ambassadorial appointments, to the Soviet Union and then to Yugoslavia, Kennan self-destructed while disregarding his own precepts. The author of trenchant analyses of Soviet morbid sensitivity to slights and of the Kremlin's penchant for parsing every word of American diplomats, he torpedoed his Moscow mission after just a few months. Offended by the constrictions of everyday living in Stalin's Moscow, Kennan compared his hosts to Nazi Germany in an offhand comment to a journalist at Tempelhof airport in Berlin. As a result, he was declared persona non grata - the only American ambassador to Russia to suffer this fate. Similarly, in Belgrade a decade later, Kennan reacted to Tito's affirmation of neutrality on the issue of the Soviet threat to Berlin as if it were a personal slight. Yet Tito's was precisely the kind of neutralist balancing act Kennan had brilliantly analyzed when it had been directed against the Soviet Union. Shortly afterward, Kennan resigned. Nonetheless, no other Foreign Service officer ever shaped American foreign policy so decisively or did so much to define the broader public debate over America's world role. This process began with two documents remembered as the Long Telegram (in 1946) and the X article (in 1947). At this stage, Kennan served a country that had not yet learned the distinction between the conversion and the evolution of an adversary - if indeed it ever will. Conversion entails inducing an adversary to break with its past in one comprehensive act or gesture. Evolution involves a gradual process, a willingness to pursue one's ultimate foreign policy goal in imperfect stages. America had conducted its wartime diplomacy on the premise that Stalin had abandoned Soviet history. The dominant view in policy-making circles was that Moscow had embraced peaceful coexistence with the United States and would adjust differences that might arise by quasi-legal or diplomatic processes. At the apex of that international order would be the newly formed United Nations. The United States, the Soviet Union and Great Britain were to be the joint guardians. (China and France were later additions.) Kennan had rejected the proposition of an inherent American-Soviet harmony from the moment it was put forward and repeatedly criticized what he considered Washington's excessively accommodating stance on Soviet territorial advances. In February 1946, the United States Embassy in Moscow received a query from Washington as to whether a doctrinaire speech by Stalin inaugurated a change in the Soviet commitment to a harmonious international order. The ambassador was away, and Kennan, at that time 42 and deputy chief of mission, replied in a five-part telegram of 19 single-spaced pages. The essence of the so-called Long Telegram was that Stalin, far from changing policy, was in fact implementing a particularly robust version of traditional Russian designs. These grew out of Russia's strategic culture and its centuries-old distrust of the outside world, onto which the Bolsheviks had grafted an implacable revolutionary doctrine of global sweep. Soviet leaders would not be swayed by good-will gestures. They had devoted their lives (and sacrificed millions of their compatriots) to an ideology positing a fundamental conflict between the Communist and capitalist worlds. Marxist dogma rendered even more truculent by the Leninist interpretation was, Kennan wrote, "justification for their instinctive fear of the outside world, for the dictatorship without which they did not know how to rule, for cruelties they did not dare not to inflict, for sacrifice they felt bound to demand. In the name of Marxism they sacrificed every single ethical value. . . . Today they cannot dispense with it." The United States, Kennan insisted (sometimes in telegramese), was obliged to deal with this inherent hostility. With many of the world's traditional power centers devastated and the Soviet leadership controlling vast natural resources and "the energies of one of world's greatest peoples," a contest about the nature of world order was inevitable. This would be "undoubtedly greatest task our diplomacy has ever faced and probably greatest it will ever have to face." IN 1947, Kennan went public in a briefly anonymous article published in Foreign Affairs, signed by "X." Among the thousands of articles produced on the subject, Kennan's stands in a class by itself. Lucidly written, passionately argued, it elevated the debate to a philosophy of history. The X article condensed the Long Telegram and gave it an apocalyptic vision. Soviet foreign policy represented "a cautious, persistent pressure toward the disruption and weakening of all rival influence and rival power." The only way to deal with Moscow was by "a policy of firm containment designed to confront the Russians with unalterable counterforce at every point where they show signs of encroaching upon the interests of a peaceful and stable world." So far this was a doctrine of equilibrium much like what a British foreign secretary in the 19th century might have counseled in dealing with a rising power - though the British foreign secretary would not have felt the need to define a final outcome. What Conferred a dramatic quality on the X article was the way Kennan combined it with the historic American dream of the ultimate conversion of the adversary. Victory would come not on the battlefield nor even by diplomacy but by the implosion of the Soviet system. It was "entirely possible for the United States to influence by its actions" this eventuality. At some point in Moscow's futile confrontations with the outside world - so long as the West took care they remained futile - some Soviet leader would feel the need to achieve additional support by reaching down to the immature and inexperienced masses. But if "the unity and efficacy of the Party as a political instrument" was ever so disrupted, "Soviet Russia might be changed over night from one of the strongest to one of the weakest and most pitiable of national societies." No other document forecast so presciently what would in fact occur under Mikhail Gorbachev. But that was four decades away. It left a number of issues open: How was a situation of strength to be defined? How was it to be built and then conveyed to the adversary? And how would it be sustained in the face of Soviet challenges? Kennan never dealt with these issues. It took Dean Acheson to translate Kennan's concept into the design that saw America through the cold war. As under secretary to George Marshall, Acheson worked on the Marshall Plan and, as secretary of state, created NATO, encouraged European unification and brought Germany into the Atlantic structure. In the Eisenhower administration, Secretary of State John Foster Dulles extended the alliance system through the Baghdad Pact for the Middle East and SEATO for Southeast Asia. In effect, containment came to be equated with constructing military alliances around the entire Soviet periphery over two continents. The practical consequence was to shelve East-West diplomacy while the positions of strength were being built. The diplomatic initiative was left to the Soviet Union, which concentrated on Western weak points, or where it calculated that it had an inherent advantage (as in the exposed position of Berlin). Paradoxically containment, while hardheaded in its absolute opposition to the further expansion of the Soviet sphere, failed to reflect the real balance of forces. For with the American atomic monopoly - and the huge Soviet losses in the world war - that actual balance was never more favorable for the West than at the beginning of the cold war. A situation of strength did not need to be built; it already existed. THE most illustrious advocate of this point of view was Winston Churchill. In a series of speeches between 1946 and 1952, he called for diplomatic initiatives to produce a European settlement while American strength was still preponderant. The American policy based on the X article appealed for endurance so that history could display its inevitable tendencies. Churchill warned of the psychological strain of a seemingly endless strategic stalemate. At the same time that Churchill was urging an immediate diplomatic confrontation, Kennan was growing impatient with Washington's tendency to equate containment with a largely military strategy. He disavowed the global application of his principles. As he so often did, he pushed them to their abstract extreme, arguing that there were some regions "where you could perfectly well let people fall prey to totalitarian domination without any tragic consequences for world peace in general." We could not bomb the Soviets into submission, nor convince them to see things our way; we had, in fact, no direct means to change the Soviet regime. We had instead to wait out an unsettled situation and occasionally mitigate it with diplomacy. The issue became an aspect of the perennial debate between a realism stressing the importance of assessing power relationships and an idealism conflating moral impulses with historical inevitability. It was complicated by Kennan's tendency to defend on occasion each side of the issue - leading to incisive and quite unsentimental essays and diary entries analyzing the global balance of power, followed by comparable reflections questioning the morality of practicing traditional power politics in the nuclear age. Stable orders require elements of both power and morality. In a world without equilibrium, the stronger will encounter no restraint, and the weak will find no means of vindication. At the same time, if there is no commitment to the essential justice of existing arrangements, constant challenges or else a crusading attempt to impose value systems are inevitable. The challenge of statesmanship is to define the components of both power and morality and strike a balance between them. This is not a one-time effort. It requires constant recalibration; it is as much an artistic and philosophical as a political enterprise. It implies a willingness to manage nuance and to live with ambiguity. The practitioners of the art must learn to put the attainable in the service of the ultimate and accept the element of compromise inherent in the endeavor. Bismarck defined statesmanship as the art of the possible. Kennan, as a public servant, was exalted above most others for a penetrating analysis that treated each element of international order separately, yet his career was stymied by his periodic rebellion against the need for a reconciliation that could incorporate each element only imperfectly. At the beginning of his career, Kennan's view of the European order was traditional. America should seek, he argued, an equilibrium based on enlightened self-interest and sustained by the permanent introduction of American power. "Heretofore, in our history, we had to take the world pretty much as we found it," he wrote during the war. "From now on we will have to take it pretty much as we leave it when the crisis is over." And that required "the firm, consistent and unceasing application of sheer power in accordance with a long-term policy." In pursuit of that European equilibrium, Kennan urged Washington and its democratic allies to oblige the Soviet Union to accept borders as far east as possible. In 1944, he proposed that Poland be placed under international trusteeship to prevent its domination by the Soviet Union. But when this was rejected by Roosevelt, who did not want to risk alienating Moscow in the last phase of the war, Kennan adjusted his view to the new realities as he saw them. If the United States was unwilling to force the Soviet Union into acceptable limits, "we should gather together at once into our hands all the cards we hold and begin to play them for their full value." That meant dividing Europe into spheres of influence with the line of division running through Germany. The Western half of Germany should be integrated into a European federation. He called this a "bitterly modest" program, but "beggars can't be choosers." Six years later, Acheson was building an Atlantic partnership in essentially the manner Kennan had proposed. But Kennan rejected it for three reasons: his innate perfectioni
Guardian Review
It is no exaggeration to say that, in the eyes of the great majority, George Kennan was the most famous Russianist of our time; certainly in the United States. But he was far more than that, being the author of "containment": the doctrine that guided US foreign policy in the neutralisation of Soviet power from 1946. It is no accident that the unofficial authority on containment, the historian of American foreign policy John Gaddis of Yale, is also Kennan's official biographer; though it is deeply ironic that an overt admirer of George W Bush should have been asked to write a life of his bitterest critic. Kennan's effortless arrogance, his dry aloofness, his perfect manners, his eloquent prose and his regal habit of pronouncing on policy suggest a blue blood or at least a Boston Brahmin. Yet his humble origins in modest Milwaukee in a house stricken by the depression were a good deal more prosaic. What's more, the death of his mother a few months after childbirth left him emotionally insecure. A man of strong and seemingly unalterable opinions, Kennan was also deeply shy, surprisingly fragile, given to glooming and bouts of illness that led to hospitalisation, and burdened with Presbyterian guilt after compulsive philandering (not least with nurses). To his own surprise, no doubt, as a man of deeply conservative convictions, Kennan became a darling of the intellectual left. To the end a great admirer of that first American academic realist Hans Morgenthau, he turned into something of a sentimentalist on Soviet Russia after the death of Stalin, giving successors such as Khrushchev and Brezhnev the benefit of the doubt in foreign policy where previously he would have scrutinised their expressions of good will with the deepest suspicion. In large part this is to be explained by his casual indifference, if not hostility, to any and every doctrine. To Kennan, the notion that politicians could be practising Marxist-Leninists by conviction was highly improbable. In advocating the containment of the Soviet Union from 1944 to 1946, he saw the challenge as that of stemming traditional Russian expansionist ambitions pressed by a leader who was unusual not in his ideology but in his ruthlessness. It is here that Kennan soon parted company with his compatriots in and out of government, who came to embrace the cold war as an ideological crusade in which the mobilisation of public opinion not infrequently threatened to remove control of foreign policy from the elite that Kennan epitomised. Embracing and explaining the paradoxes that made Kennan has been Gaddis's uneasy task. The accomplished, Pulitzer-winning result tells us a good deal about postwar America. For the leaders of western Europe, the question after 1945 was how to get the Americans to heave to alongside in order to offset the Soviet threat, but not to make landfall on the continent. In that Kennan concurred. Indeed the reason why he was sidelined as a policy adviser so early on in the cold war was because he firmly believed the US commitment to the balance of power in Europe should remain conditional, offshore and serving strictly American reasons of state. Yet arguably the entire history of the cold war demonstrated that the US could only conduct its foreign policy with the consent of the people, and that could be mustered only by handing over the reins of power to those Kennan believed to be unsuitable, if not, at times, grossly irresponsible. "Myths and errors are being established in the public mind more rapidly than they can be broken down," Kennan confided to his diary in 1951. "The mass media are too much for us," he concluded. That was his reaction to McCarthyism, but it was equally his reaction to the hawkish George Bush and the invasion of Iraq in 2003. Banished from Washington under Dwight Eisenhower and Foster Dulles after the Republicans took office in January 1952, Kennan was thrown back on his own resources, stricken with the need to atone for the unexpected turn of events for which, in fact, he was not as responsible as he believed. He had suddenly shot into the firmament under Truman and Acheson; and then, like a comet, with equal speed he disappeared off into the outer darkness. Immured in a Venetian style tower, a four-storey study atop 146 Hodge Road in the heart of white-picket-fenced Princeton, he had instead to content himself writing memoirs, reflections and lucid essays while waiting in vain for the "call" that would summon him back to the White House. He certainly missed the "real intoxication of the spirit simply from being in physical proximity of persons of high office". But to his undying frustration, instead of statesmen he was besieged by academics, seeking insights or patronage, sometimes both. "Let's have lunch sometime," was invariably the polite if unconvincing defence against such intruders visiting the Institute for Advanced Study. This unique institution of learning took him in against the advice of professional historians such as Gordon Craig and Joseph Strayer in 1956, but with enthusiastic support from Isaiah Berlin and Theodore Mommsen, and kept him on the payroll even after retirement as one of its most illustrious figures.
Kirkus Review
The long-awaited authorized biography of George F. Kennan (19042005), the creator of America's Cold War containment strategy.Kennan commissioned Gaddis (History/Yale Univ.; The Cold War: A New History,2006, etc.) to write his life story back in 1981, on condition that the work not be published until after his death. Then 75, Kennan lived to be 101. Now the story can be told, and it is well worth the wait. At the beginning of his diplomatic career in the late 1920s, Kennan, along with a handful of others, was recruited into the Russian Studies section of the State Department's Eastern European division by Robert Kelley, and he helped FDR's Ambassador William Bullitt open diplomatic relations. Gaddis has had unique access to official papers, Kennan's own publications and documents, the diary that he kept throughout his life and his correspondence, especially to his sister. This access will be especially revealing for those interested in discovering more about the period from 1944 to 1952, which saw victory in World War II, the development of the atomic bomb, the adoption of containment, the beginning of the Cold War and the adoption of the Truman Doctrine. Throughout the book, Kennan's papers make clear what he was responsible for, and what he wasn't. Gaddis also provides intriguing accounts of Kennan's work with the Marshall Plan, his establishment of a training program for upcoming officers in the military and diplomatic service and his work with Frank Wisner and the Office of Policy Coordination. But of equal interest are his later life at Princeton's School of Advanced Studies and his relations with subsequent Presidents, including Bill Clinton, whose expansion of NATO after the collapse of the Soviet Union Kennan forcefully objected to.A well-rounded treatment of the life of a man who made significant contributions to his country and the world at large.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
George F. Kennan (1904-2005) exerted a profound influence on the conduct of American foreign policy, especially during the years of the Cold War. His famous 1947 Foreign Affairs article, "Sources of Soviet Conduct," published under the pseudonym X, laid the theoretical groundwork for "containing" the Soviet Union in those hectic and dangerous postwar years. As Kennan's authorized biographer, Gaddis (The Cold War: A New History)-himself one of our most distinguished diplomatic historians-had unfettered access to Kennan's diaries and personal papers. The result is a nearly 800-page book with by far the most sophisticated and nuanced examination of Kennan's remarkable contributions to our nation during his lengthy life. Gaddis's portrayal of Kennan's personal life is more workmanlike, with less nuance. VERDICT Gaddis has crafted an in-depth study of Kennan as a thinker and practicing diplomat. The focus on Kennan as foreign policy maker will not trouble most scholars of the diplomatic arts, but for the average reader the level of detail may prove more burdensome. Highly recommended for Cold War scholars and for all library collections, alongside Nicholas Thompson's more personal The Hawk and the Dove: Paul Nitze, George Kennan, and the History of the Cold War. [See Prepub Alert, 5/2/11.]-Ed Goedeken, Iowa State Univ. Lib., Ames (c) Copyright 2011. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Table of Contents
| Preface | p. ix |
| Part I | |
| 1 Childhood: 1904-1921 | p. 3 |
| 2 Princeton: 1921-1925 | p. 23 |
| 3 The Foreign Service: 1925-1931 | p. 39 |
| 4 Marriage-and Moscow: 1931-1933 | p. 60 |
| Part II | |
| 5 The Origins of Soviet-American Relations: 1933-1936 | p. 79 |
| 6 Rediscovering America: 1936-1938 | p. 99 |
| 7 Czechoslovakia and Germany: 1938-1941 | p. 120 |
| 8 The United States at War: 1941-1944 | p. 147 |
| 9 Back in the U.S.S.R.: 1944-1945 | p. 172 |
| 10 A Very Long Telegram: 1945-1946 | p. 201 |
| Part III | |
| 11 A Grand Strategic Education: 1946 | p. 225 |
| 12 Mr. X: 1947 | p. 249 |
| 13 Policy Planner: 1947-194 8 | p. 276 |
| 14 Policy Dissenter: 194 8 | p. 309 |
| 15 Reprieve: 1949 | p. 337 |
| 16 Disengagement: 1950 | p. 371 |
| Part IV | |
| 17 Public Figure, Private Doubts: 1950-1951 | p. 407 |
| 18 Mr. Ambassador: 1952 | p. 439 |
| 19 Finding a Niche: 1953-1955 | p. 477 |
| 20 A Rare Possibility of Usefulness: 1955-1958 | p. 506 |
| 21 Kennedy and Yugoslavia: 1958-1963 | p. 538 |
| Part V | |
| 22 Counter-Cultural Critic: 1963 - 1968 | p. 577 |
| 23 Prophet of the Apocalypse: 1968-1980 | p. 613 |
| 24 A Precarious Vindication: 1980-1990 | p. 647 |
| 25 Last Things: 1991-2005 | p. 676 |
| Epilogue: Greatness | p. 693 |
| Acknowledgments | p. 699 |
| Abbreviations to Notes and Bibliography | p. 701 |
| Notes | p. 703 |
| Bibliography | p. 751 |
| Index | p. 763 |