on the Concorde headed for Washington. I used the four-hour flight to gather my thoughts and assess the world scene:

The year was 1982, but the 1970s were still with us. The mood at the end of that decade had been captured by Jimmy Carter, unfortunately for him, in an unforgettable way: America was suffering from a bad case of malaise, he said. Americans could no longer be optimistic. At the end of the 1970s the predictions were for rising oil prices, more inflation, and stagnation: the United States would simply have to get used to a lower standard of living. An escalation of cold war tension was taken for granted. Moscow’s military might grew yearly. The nuclear arms race proceeded unharnessed. The Soviet army’s invading forces were grindingthrough Afghan villages. So much for détente.

Throughout the cold war era, America’s responsibilities as a superpower had been fulfilled with impressive success. But fear of flagging will or failure had become pervasive. The American presidency had become a story of successive agonies: the assassination of John F. Kennedy; the anguished departure of Lyndon Johnson at the nadir of the Vietnam War; Richard Nixon’s de facto impeachment; Gerald Ford’s healing but brief stewardship; and Jimmy Carter’s miseries, which, with a weak smile, he spread across the American and international scene. In June 1980, I had said in a speech to the Business Roundtable, All around us, and plain for all the world to see, is confusion about our aims, deterioration in our world position, and deep concern, perhaps fear,