There is no question that Kissinger's support for such savage regimes will stain his name for many years to come. But it would be more difficult to indict Kissinger as a war criminal for these actions -- since other powers ordered the actual killing -- than for his actions in Indochina. There he was a prime architect of the massive bombing of undefended civilian targets. And international conventions endorsed by the U.S., such as the 1907 Hague convention quoted above, unambiguously forbid such bombing.

Not surprisingly, Kissinger shares few of Hitchens' concerns in his new book, "Does America Need a Foreign Policy?" which largely ignores Vietnam, Indonesia, Chile and many other Cold War battlegrounds to which he once devoted so much time. But Kissinger and Hitchens do share an interest in one subject: the Pinochet case, that is, the extent to which jurists in one nation have international jurisdiction over officials who have committed human rights violations in another. Writing of Spain's indictment of the former Chilean dictator on torture and murder charges, and his subsequent detainment in England, Hitchens notes that "Kissinger [has grasped] what so many other people did not: that if the Pinochet precedent became established, then he himself was in some danger."

Indeed Kissinger does seem worried when he addresses the subject in his book: "If the Pinochet case becomes a precedent, magistrates anywhere will be in a position to put forward an extradition request without warning to the accused and regardless of the policies that the accused's country might already have in place for dealing with these charges."

Fortunately for Kissinger, in his case, "the accused's country" has no such policies for dealing with the mass murder of civilians in Indochina. Not only are there no official means for dealing with Hitchens' charges against him, but he is lionized by the highest sectors of American society. As Hitchens notes, Kissinger is paid between $25,000 and $30,000 a speech and has grown wealthy by offering advice to Fortune 500 companies and catering to foreign clients like the Chinese dictatorship. His opinions are sought by Newsweek and the Washington Post; his new book is a Book of the Month Club selection. Kissinger's status tells us less about himself than it does about our society as it begins the 21st century.

Only a nation in deep spiritual and psychological disarray could honor a man with as much blood on his hands as Henry Kissinger. An entire generation was plunged into a moral abyss during the Vietnam War from which it has yet to emerge. This moral confusion was on stark display during the recent public agony over Bob Kerrey's wartime actions. Under what circumstances, if any, is it permissible to kill civilians? Should America ever engage in wars where military enemies and civilians cannot be separated? The fact that we are still struggling with these questions decades after we fled Vietnam shows how deeply unresolved they still are.

It is not necessary, however desirable, to say we were wrong in intervening in Indochina, or even to admit that we were responsible for the vast majority of the war's casualties. But we refuse at our peril to at least take responsibility for the millions of casualties we certifiably did cause, and seek to make amends to the relatives of those we killed. The Germans did so after World War II, not so much for the Jews as for themselves. Our failure to do so harms our society no less than that of the Indochinese.

Kissinger's new book highlights the central problem facing America today: the rise of a skilled but unfeeling class that has ascended to the heights of power as the new century begins. Kissinger's stance is that of the technocrat, above party and ideology, unselfishly pursuing the national interest. "On the left, many act as if America has the appropriate democratic solution for every society regardless of cultural and historical differences," he writes. "On the right, some believe ... that the solution to the world's ills is American hegemony. Either interpretation makes it difficult to elaborate a long-range approach to a world in transition."

But what exactly is the nonideological "long-range approach" we need? Kissinger never really says. His book is essentially a foreign policy travelogue, as he proceeds region by region around the world describing a variety of short-term issues -- supporting missile defense here, sanctions against Saddam Hussein there -- and making countless observations of stupefying banality. Even more striking than the vacuity of what he does say, however, is what he does not. America's top foreign policy imperative for the coming century is clearly to lead an international effort to save a biosphere now seriously threatened by global warming and other environmental ills. Kissinger gives the tersest of nods to this monumental global challenge, bundling it together with a hodgepodge of "New Age issues: proliferation, environmental, cultural and scholarly exchange, among many others."

It is almost banal to note Kissinger's banality. But his unique mixture of emptiness and celebrity, power and amorality, mystique and lack of principles, has made him one of the quintessential figures of the post-World War II era -- fulfilling the prediction made by the London Observer 57 years ago.

In the past we had most to fear from charismatic tyrants. Today it is the technocrats, the "slight types" who efficiently run our government and dominate our age. It is the Dick Cheneys, who manage our withdrawal from the Kyoto treaty on global warming and cut spending on conservation; the Donald Rumsfelds, who lead the charge for missile defense and space war and disturb the world's nuclear equilibrium.

With his unparalleled talent for bureaucratic intrigue and media manipulation, Henry Kissinger was among the first of these types to attain power in the post-war world.

He will not be the last.

Maya Angelou reads from "The Heart of a Woman"