I Am Legend - Richard Armitage: 1945-2025

Monster, Saint, American Hero

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15 April 2025 (Tuesday)

Richard Armitage: 1945-2025

Monster, Saint, American Hero

By Wendell Minnick (Whiskey Mike) 顏文德

TAIPEI - What can I say about Richard Armitage without invoking Lucius Cornelius Sulla’s words—‘No better friend, no worse enemy’?

Armitage was both monster and saint: America’s enforcer against Chinese designs on Taiwan, and perhaps its savior.

In the early 2000s, he spearheaded the revival of U.S.–Taiwan military ties with his lieutenants—Mark Stokes, Randall Schriver, and Daniel Blumenthal—relations that had lain dormant since 1979.

Sure, he made enemies—he was hardly flawless—but perfect people are boring. As a writer, I understand our fascination with complex characters. For Taiwan, Armitage was the apex predator guarding the island’s freedom.

He built his career on a brutal blend of raw force and unyielding diplomacy. When he was Deputy Secretary of State under George W. Bush (2001–2005), he insisted his team meet him in the gym at dawn, lifting weights before briefing foreign dignitaries.

With a shaved head, a powerlifter’s build, and a scarred jaw, he looked every inch like the gorilla who’d just walked into the room.

After 9/11, his thirst for retaliation was legendary—he threatened Pakistan with war if they denied U.S. access to the Afghan border.

When Chinese “journalists” in Washington toasted the attacks in a hotel lounge, the State Department initially defended their right to remain. Armitage blew up the protests and forced their expulsion—reminding everyone that Xinhua is, in effect, an intelligence agency.

Under Reagan, he’d cut his teeth as Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for International Security Affairs in East Asia, then as Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs.

He earned his nickname, “the Enforcer,” by personally delivering U.S. policy to dictators—often with a Jeremiah-style warning of divine retribution if they persisted in their abuses.

His mantra—“It’s easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission”—became gospel for his protégés.

When I once asked him to write his memoirs, he laughed and said the truth would be too painful for old friends—and too honest for many of his former colleagues.

He never suffered fools gladly—not out of arrogance, but out of disappointment when indecision threatened his people.

And woe to anyone who harmed those under his protection: Armitage would be the last face you saw before you woke in terror.