Historian Alan Brinkley’s biography of John F. Kennedy is a succinct and balanced account of an enormously complex, cunning and yet cautious man whose attitude toward the American presidency seems to have been that power, once attained, is better preserved than employed. He won The White House by a very narrow margin, never had control of his own party in Congress, and saw more wisdom in postponing battles than taking them on.
In a sense Kennedy wasn’t the liberal, activist politician that is part of his legend. He spoke better than he acted. He did two or three remarkable things as president. The Cuban Missile Crisis, which helped provoke by letting the Soviets think he was a push-over, may have been his greatest moment on the world stage. As we now know, he got the best out of his divided advisors, kept his own counsel, relied heavily on his brother, Robert, and ultimately made the right moves to avert a terrible escalation.
Domestic affairs did not interest JFK much, nor did he really understanding the workings of the American economy. He was slow to embrace the Civil Rights movement, and one could say he never really did. He always feared a white Southern backlash against him in his own party. The strongest things his administration did for black Americans were driven by Robert Kennedy, the Attorney General.
JFK’s charm, wit, good looks and eloquence had their dark sides. He was a pathological womanizer who had grown up rich, spoiled, and sickly. He chased women to make up for lost time, because he could get away with it, and perhaps because he was hyper-sexed due to the drugs that kept him upright. He also could be vulgar in word and behavior, a spoiled brat kind of man.
Brinkley does a good job of incorporating the views of other policymakers and historians in his mixed account of JFK. The final chapters dwell on Vietnam. Kennedy had traveled the world and met many world leaders. He wasn’t ignorant, but he was as naive about Vietnam as his successor, Lyndon Johnson, and lacked the cynical but strategic mind of Johnson’s successor, Richard Nixon. Brinkley reserves judgment, but it is difficult to believe that Kennedy would not have taken us further into Vietnam had he been reelected. Having endured the fiasco of the Bay of Pigs in Cuba, he wanted to win something somewhere, and he did not know enough about Asia to realize that it wasn’t a good place for him to take a stand.
JFK’s popularity was remarkably high throughout his presidency. People liked what they saw of him, his wife and children. The public had no idea that he carried on more sordidly than any president before or after him, though I’m sure he would have defended himself by saying it was all in good fun.
Then came JFK’s death. If you were alive then, as I was, you remember everything because you saw it all non-stop. It was a shocking, searing event. The country (and the world) was riveted to the TV and filled with a sense of loss and confusion and disgust and dismay. Brinkley doesn’t go into, “Who shot JFK?”, so I won’t either. The problem was that he was dead, the king was dead, and the heir apparent was a titanic, unappealing political force who did great things in terms of Civil Rights and other social programs and terrible things in terms of Vietnam.
Brinkley’s book is a good, quick refresher course in the contradictions of JFK. It’s well-written and fair. JFK may have been the most charismatic of our presidents, but he only began to grow into his job toward the end of his time in office. I suspect his second term, however, would have been less productive than his first. By Brinkley’s account, he couldn’t have handled the Civil Rights movement, continuing Soviet provocations, and Vietnam. He didn’t really like problems and didn’t really understand that problems are the essence of the presidency.