VI.
Kennedy probably wanted to see Kennan secretly on August 15 to discuss the unsigned “personal and eyes only” instructions prepared the previous day in the Department of State: that upon his return to Belgrade, Kennan was to contact the Soviet ambassador, Aleksey Alekseyevich Yepishev, to suggest setting up a confidential channel about which no other governments, particularly Germans on either side of the wall, would know. “I had the opportunity,” Kennan later explained, of talking “without an interpreter or anybody else present.” All he would have to do would be to walk “from my home to the Soviet ambassador’s home, and sit down with him in his own living room.”47
Whether by coincidence or on orders from Moscow, it was Yepishev who asked to see Kennan on August 21. They met, not in Yepishev’s living room, but in the garden of the Soviet embassy—to avoid detection devices, the ambassador whispered. Confining their first conversation to the relatively safe issue of how Laos might be neutralized, the two envoys agreed to meet again on the thirty-first, but on the previous day two Soviet correspondents tipped off the United Press representative in Belgrade to the fact that the meeting would be taking place. Fearing a repeat of the Smith-Molotov embarrassment of 1948, Kennan was initially inclined to cancel the talks altogether, but then decided to go ahead on the grounds that they might at least reveal something of Khrushchev’s intentions. If exposed, Kennan could say that they were social visits. He would “take great care not to betray more than a general knowledge of our policies.”48
They met, a day later than planned, on September 1. Khrushchev had jumped at the opportunity to use the Belgrade channel, Yepishev reported: any message that Kennan might want to send would go straight to the Soviet leader without passing through intermediaries. Meanwhile an agreement on Laos seemed possible. Kennan took this communication seriously, “since things more important than Laos were potentially involved.” Chief among these was Khrushchev’s surprise announcement, on the preceding day, that the Soviet Union would be resuming the testing of nuclear weapons, ending an informal moratorium that had been in effect since 1958. Why, Kennan demanded, had Khrushchev chosen this particular moment, “a most delicate one from [the] standpoint of progress toward negotiations over Berlin”?
Yepishev had no answer, but he went on to state Soviet preconditions for a Berlin settlement with such specificity that Kennan was sure he was acting under instructions. They amounted to formal recognition, on the part of the United States and its allies, of the fact that two German states existed and that their boundaries could not now be changed. The West Germans would not have to “take tea” with the East German leader, Walter Ulbricht, but they would have to end efforts to subvert his government. In return, the Soviet Union would “disinterest” itself in West Berlin: its citizens could have whatever government they wanted, secure communications with the outside world, and the continued presence of American, British, and French troops in the city to guarantee these rights. Kennan responded, cautiously, that none of this seemed “beyond the borders of what could conceivably be discussed if the right time and atmosphere and setting” could be arranged. But if Moscow “continued the sort of behavior we had recently witnessed that time might never come.”
His assessment, for Washington, was that Khrushchev was balancing competing factions within his government. New initiatives on Berlin and Germany should be pursued, therefore, “only with utmost prudence on our part.” Nevertheless, it would be unwise to shut down the Belgrade channel, for “I am quite satisfied that it does indeed represent a means of private and earliest communication with Khrushchev.” As if to confirm this, Yepishev followed up with a ten-page unsigned memorandum reiterating the points he had made orally. Kennan himself translated it for the State Department and sent it off by pouch: having cabled its substance, he had no need this time for a long telegram. He had no doubt, though, that Khrushchev would regard any Kennan reply as coming from Kennedy.49
That message, Kennan advised, should stress the inconsistency of “provocations” like the resumption of nuclear testing with the peaceful protestations Yepishev had conveyed. It was important to remember, however, that Khrushchev, for all his blustering, did not want a war. Washington’s position, then, should also reflect a readiness to negotiate, if necessary alone: “[W]e cannot let petty inhibitions of our allies, or even desire for moral support in unaligned camp, paralyze our action in any of the great decisions.” Rusk’s response was curt. “Approve your proposed reply on Berlin,” he cabled, but then added that Ambassador Thompson would soon be seeing Soviet foreign minister Andrey Gromyko in Moscow to make “tentative soundings on attitudes toward negotiations on Germany and Berlin. Believe your channel should be kept open but not developed on Berlin at this point.”50
There were two more meetings with Yepishev, at which he seemed to be pleading for flexibility, but Kennan had no further instructions on how to respond. By mid-September, the NATO ambassadors had met in Paris and complained about lack of consultation; meanwhile the State Department was reverting, as Kennan saw it, to “a sullen and passive refusal to discuss Berlin.” That amounted to demanding “a unilateral Soviet military and political withdrawal from central Europe,” he complained to Under Secretary of State Chester Bowles on the twenty-second. “[I]f this is the only alternative presented to the Russians, it is clear that they would prefer to make war.” Acheson, it seemed, had prevailed after all.51
Khrushchev, with characteristic earthiness, had the last word. He had agreed, he wrote Kennedy on September 29, that Kennan and Yepishev should exchange views informally. “I never met Mr. Kennan,” but he seemed to be a man “with whom preparatory work could be done.” The two ambassadors were spending too much time, however, “sniffing each other.” For the Belgrade channel to work, they would need instructions “to start talks on concrete questions without needless procrastination and not merely indulge in tea-drinking, . . . walk[ing] round and about mooing at each other.” The instructions, from Washington at least, never came.52
Kennan acknowledged, in 1965, that his conversations with Yepishev on Laos had been useful: “I attribute the subsequent quietness of the Laotian situation, in part, to these discussions.” But Rusk and his soon-to-be-appointed under secretary of state, George Ball, shut down the Berlin discussions, fearing that if news of them ever leaked, the West Germans would be horrified: “I always felt that it was a great shame that this channel was allowed to die, because they [would] not have found a better one.” That might well have been the case, for Khrushchev had been following Kennan’s thinking since the Reith lectures. “Many of Mr. Kennan’s ideas would be acceptable to us and should be to the advantage of the US as well,” the Soviet leader had told Harriman in 1959. Kennedy took a similar view, and in the wake of Kennan’s visit to Washington in August 1961, there was serious talk within the National Security Council about what form a deal on Berlin might take. “I suspect that Kennan provided expert reinforcement for views Kennedy already had,” Schlesinger later recalled.53
In the end, though, Kennedy was no more prepared to take on his own State Department, Adenauer, and of course Acheson, than he had been Congress on “captive nations.” And so it would be left to a new generation of Germans a decade later, with the wary acquiescence of Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger, to work out much the same Berlin settlement that Khrushchev, through Yepishev, had recommended in 1961 and that Kennan could have negotiated.
VII.
The White House gave Kennan one other assignment during his August visit, which was to cultivate Tito’s guests at the September conference of “nonaligned” states. “[P]robably no American is more admired among the neutrals than George Kennan,” Schlesinger reminded Kennedy. “Many of those coming to Belgrade would wish to see him.” The American ambassador could hardly buttonhole delegates in the corridors, but he could attend receptions for them in other embassies, respond if they sought his views, and explain U.S. policy to them. “We would be depriving ourselves of one of our mos
t powerful weapons at the conference if Kennan were told that he could have nothing to do with it.” That did not happen.54
Now, however, Tito reneged on a promise. He had assured Kennan, during the summer, that he would host the conference in an impartial manner. But when he addressed the delegates on September 3, the Yugoslav leader said that although the timing had surprised him, he “could understand” Khrushchev’s decision to resume nuclear testing, given the “incomprehensible policies pursued by some powers” who believed that rearming West Germany would enhance European security. “George absolutely hit the ceiling,” Bill Bundy recalled. Khrushchev himself could have written the speech, Kennan reported with disgust. It looked, he later observed, “as though the Russians were in a position to make [Tito] say anything they wanted to.”55
So instead of Kennan listening to the delegates, they—and the press—had to listen to him as he voiced his indignation: “The Yugoslavs didn’t like this at all,” but they had “chosen their road,” he wrote the State Department. They could no longer be considered “a friendly or neutral nation.” Tito had become a sycophant, it seemed, in a single speech. Ball detected in Kennan’s telegrams a sense of personal affront: “I never saw that attitude on the part of any other ambassador.” Most Foreign Service officers dealt with governments that behaved “like sons-of-bitches,” Bill Bundy added. “George found [that] very hard to accept.” Shocked, the Yugoslavs took to asking: “Is the Ambassador still angry with us?” But Kennedy backed Kennan: “I want you to know that I particularly like your insistence upon representing the interests and purposes of the United States Government, even when this involves abrasions with those to whom you are accredited.”56
Since 1948 the United States had supported Tito’s regime with economic and even military assistance, despite its communist character: Kennan, more than anyone else, had originated that policy. Sustaining it had been difficult, given the objections of anti-Tito exiles, skepticism about foreign aid of any kind, and the widespread belief that all communists were enemies, whether they had split with Moscow or not. Yugoslavia was thus a tempting target for congressional critics, and now Tito was behaving, Kennan believed, as though he could not care less about “the preservation of American, or indeed western, influence anywhere in the world.” It was important that the Yugoslavs learn the “limits to American patience.” They had cheered Kennan’s appointment, the New York Times Belgrade correspondent reported, because they thought him a “big man.” They still did, but now there were “no happy grins.”57
Despite these strains in the official relationship, Kennan liked the Yugoslav people. He appreciated “their sweetness to children, their feeling for beauty, their intense suspicions and loyalties, their individuality and charm and sense of humor,” he wrote Oppenheimer. His task was to reconcile three things: the lifelong ideological commitment of Tito’s generation; American support for West German rearmament, which the Yugoslavs would “never understand or forgive”; and their continuing need for aid from the United States, which, “proud as they are, they hate to take.” But perhaps he and their leaders were beginning to work out “what is possible and what is impossible in our relations.”58
Kennedy asked Kennan to return for a review of Yugoslav policy in January 1962. After meeting with him twice, the president approved moderate amounts of food and development assistance, the sale of supplies for military equipment that the Yugoslavs had already obtained from the United States, and a continuation of trade on the same basis as with “non-Soviet bloc” nations. All of this required congressional approval, so Kennan presented the proposals to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and the House Foreign Affairs Committee, encountering no significant objections. He would return to Belgrade, he wrote Annelise, with understandings that “should get us over the major humps and make possible the continuation of my own work on a reasonably favorable basis.”59
At the president’s request, Kennan had prepared a summary of administration policy, but on February 5 Rusk released a revised version of it which stressed—as Kennan had been careful not to do—that Yugoslavia was strengthening its Western ties at the expense of those with the East. The Chinese published Rusk’s statement, embarrassing Kennan, who knew how much Tito resented being portrayed as a tool of the “imperialists.” No one in the State Department was listening to him, Kennan complained to Schlesinger in March, despite the fact that Rusk and the new ambassador to the Soviet Union, Foy Kohler, had once been his subordinates. Perhaps it was time to resign. He would not do this “precipitately,” but he wanted the White House to know.60
NSC staffer Robert Komer found in Kennan’s reporting few “constructive ideas” but thought the State Department reluctant to argue with an ambassador who had the ear of the White House. That he did have, McGeorge Bundy assured Kennan: the president “follows your reports with a personal interest that is matched only in one or two places which, on their surface, are more troublesome than Belgrade.” So Komer hoped that “we’re going to use Kennan’s visit here for a long cool look at what we could or should do to forestall or limit Tito’s lean leftward.”61
The occasion this time was a Washington trip by the Yugoslav foreign minister, Koča Popović. Kennedy received his guest in the White House living quarters on May 29 and from his rocking chair began gently questioning him on what ideology really meant in the modern world. Weren’t other issues shaping relations between Yugoslavia, the Soviet Union, Communist China, and Albania? If that was the case, why should ideology affect Yugoslavia’s relations with the United States? There were, to be sure, still American isolationists who were “not sophisticated” about communism. But if the Yugoslavs could avoid episodes like the Belgrade conference, then there could surely be friendly relations, since the purpose of American policy was to preserve Yugoslavia’s independence.62
“I was full of admiration for the way the President handled him,” Kennan recalled. Kennedy’s boyish courtesy, bordering on naïveté, reminded him of the young Charles Lindbergh, perhaps even Lincoln: “There was something very appealing about it.” Kennan took the opportunity, nonetheless, to leave a letter with the president and the secretary of state confirming his intention to spend another year in Belgrade, and then to return to his academic responsibilities at the Institute for Advanced Study. Were it not for these, “nothing would give me greater satisfaction than to continue to serve . . . in any manner that was useful to your purposes.”63
VIII.
Nonsophisticates were much on the minds of Kennedy and Kennan during their meeting with Popović, because two weeks earlier the House Ways and Means Committee had quietly approved an amendment to the trade expansion bill denying “most-favored nation” status—meaning generally applied tariffs and quotas—to all communist countries. “This news fills me with consternation,” Kennan had cabled from Belgrade. The Yugoslavs would interpret it as “a gratuitously offensive act.” Bundy replied, soothingly, that the bill made no explicit mention of Yugoslavia, that the administration expected to obtain an “escape clause” in the Senate, and that the Ways and Means chairman, Representative Wilbur Mills of Arkansas, had promised not to oppose this maneuver in the conference committee that would reconcile the bills prior to final passage. “I have some official worries—not with the Executive Branch but with Congress—and I won’t breathe easily until they are resolved,” George wrote Annelise on the thirty-first. But when Kennan paid a call on Mills the next morning, he disclaimed responsibility for the offending language and seemed willing to have it removed.64
Then on June 6 Senator William Proxmire of Wisconsin, citing Tito’s handling of the “nonaligned” conference, proposed an amendment to the foreign aid bill denying assistance in any form to Yugoslavia. This pleased his colleagues, who extended the ban to include Poland, and it passed by a vote of 57 to 24. Reminded that they had precluded agricultural exports, the senators then amended the amendment to allow these. The world’s “greatest deliberative body,” columnist James Reston fume
d, had thereby insulted both countries, first by cutting off all aid, and then, as an afterthought, by making them “a dumping ground for farm surpluses.” Kennan learned of this after returning to Belgrade. Nothing further was needed, he cabled despairingly, “to confirm Tito on his recent course and to discourage those who have argued in favor of [a] Western orientation.”65
Caught off guard, Kennedy took the unusual step of releasing a paraphrased version of Kennan’s telegram, as well as one from John Moors Cabot, the American ambassador in Warsaw. These congressional actions, Kennan was quoted as saying, reflected “appalling ignorance” about Yugoslavia and amounted to “the greatest windfall Soviet diplomacy could encounter in this area.” His message read, reporter Max Frankel observed, as if Kennan were pleading to come back to try to save the situation. And so he was. The least he could do in Washington, Kennan wrote in his original cable, “would be more important than the most I could do, in present circumstances, at this end.” Kennedy agreed, and after only two weeks in Belgrade, Kennan was on an airplane once again.66
“I am now launched, for the first time in my life, into the thick of a major Congressional struggle,” George wrote Annelise from Washington on July 3. “Chances of success are poor; but one doesn’t think of that in the heat of battle.” Rusk seemed unsure of why he had come, and the State Department offered little help. The president and his staff, however, arranged meetings with congressional leaders, lined up television interviews, and encouraged Kennan to state his position in The Washington Post. When he asked about trying to see Eisenhower, Kennedy instantly agreed: Kennan visited and secured the support of the former president at his Gettysburg farm, after which he stayed overnight at his own in nearby East Berlin. “I slept like a top, [and] woke up”—it was the Fourth of July—“feeling greatly refreshed.”
George F. Kennan : an American life Page 75