Kennedy
Page 103
When he decided that the civil rights crisis necessitated his addressing the U.S. Mayors’ Conference in Honolulu, on Sunday, June 9, at the close of a long Western trip, he instructed me to stay behind to complete the American University draft. He was due to deliver it Monday morning, and I was to fly out with it Saturday. It was not until Sunday evening, returning home on “Air Force One,” that he applied the finishing touches. Bundy Deputy Carl Kaysen had meanwhile obtained a quick minimum clearance from the necessary Cabinet-level officials and telephoned the changes resulting from Khrushchev’s acceptance.
The next morning we arrived in Washington; and the President, after stopping by the Mansion and office, proceeded to the American University campus. Soviet officials in Moscow and Washington, and weary White House correspondents on the plane back, had been briefed in advance that the speech was of major importance. That description was wholly accurate.
President Kennedy began with a commitment to genuine, lasting peace:
Not a Pax Americana enforced on the world by American weapons of war…not merely peace for Americans, but peace for all men; not merely peace in our time but peace for all time.
The dreamers’ “absolute, infinite concepts of universal peace and goodwill…merely invite discouragement and incredulity,” he said. But a practical peace, “based not on a sudden revolution in human nature but on a gradual evolution in human institutions,” was not impossible—and neither was war inevitable.
Our problems are man-made; therefore they can be solved by man…. Some say that it is useless to speak of world peace…until the leaders of the Soviet Union adopt a more enlightened attitude. I hope they do. I believe we can help them do it. But I also believe that we must re-examine our own attitude….
He challenged his listeners to look anew at the Soviet Union and the cold war, to put past conflicts and prejudices behind them and to concentrate on the common interests shared by both powers. These passages, many of them saved from the abandoned TV exchange, were also addressed to the Russian people. He quoted from a Soviet text to illustrate their “baseless” misconceptions of our military and political aims (partly because they sounded precisely like this country’s traditional view of their aims). “It is sad to read these Soviet statements,” he said, to realize the extent of the gulf between us. But it is also a warning—a warning to the American people not to fall into the same trap as the Soviets, not to see only a distorted and desperate view of the other side…. History teaches us that enmities between nations…do not last forever…. Among the many traits the peoples of our two countries have in common, none is stronger than our mutual abhorrence of war. Almost unique among the major world powers, we have never been at war with each other…. We are not here distributing blame or pointing the finger of judgment. We must deal with the world as it is, and not as it might have been had the history of the last eighteen years been different….
We must conduct our affairs in such a way that it becomes in the Communists’ interest to agree on a genuine peace…to…let each nation choose its own future, so long as that choice does not interfere with the choices of others…. If we cannot now end our differences, at least we can help make the world safe for diversity. For, in the final analysis our most basic common link is the fact that we all inhabit this planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children’s future. And we are all mortal.
He spoke of this nation’s nonprovocative and carefully controlled weapons, our avoidance of diplomatic threats and irritants, our hopes for the UN’s evolution into a “genuine world security system,” our efforts to keep peace within the non-Communist world, and our support of peace and freedom among all races here at home. To lessen Allied fears, he re-emphasized our commitments to their security before announcing the Moscow meeting and the decision not to resume testing in the atmosphere. These two specific proposals, far more than all the rhetoric about peace, made the speech an important step away from war. And it was satisfaction with these proposals that enabled him to close on a note of hope:
The United States, as the world knows, will never start a war. We do not want a war. We do not now expect a war. This generation of Americans has already had enough—more than enough—of war and hate and oppression. We shall be prepared for war, if others wish it. We shall be alert to try to stop it. But we shall also do our part to build a world of peace where the weak are safe and the strong are just. We are not helpless before that task or hopeless of its success. Confident and unafraid, we labor on—not toward a strategy of annihilation but toward a strategy of peace.
England’s Manchester Guardian—in contrast to the American press, which largely underplayed the speech, and then largely forgot it after the President’s TV civil rights address the following evening—called it “one of the great state papers of American history.” Various Congressional Republicans called it “a soft line that can accomplish nothing…a shot from the hip…a dreadful mistake.” Khrushchev, in a later conversation with Harriman, would call it “the best speech by any President since Roosevelt.”
The “signal” the Soviet Chairman had awaited was loud and clear—and it was received by the Russian people as well as their leaders. The full text of the speech was published in the Soviet press. Still more striking was the fact that it was heard as well as read throughout the U.S.S.R. After fifteen years of almost uninterrupted jamming of Western broadcasts, by means of a network of over three thousand transmitters and at an annual cost of several hundred million dollars, the Soviets jammed only one paragraph of the speech when relayed by the Voice of America in Russian (that dealing with their “baseless” claims of U.S. aims)—then did not jam any of it upon rebroadcast—and then suddenly stopped jamming all Western broadcasts, including even Russian-language newscasts on foreign affairs. Equally suddenly they agreed in Vienna to the principle of inspection by the International Atomic Energy Agency to make certain that Agency’s reactors were used for peaceful purposes. And equally suddenly the outlook for some kind of test-ban agreement turned from hopeless to hopeful.
The President departed on his trip to Europe. A new and major purpose was to assure the Allies—and particularly the ever-suspicious Germans—that negotiations with the Soviet Union would be in their interest, not at their expense. “Our alliance was founded to deter a new war,” he said upon his arrival in Bonn. “It must now find the way to a new peace.” “When Pandora opened her box and the troubles flew out,” he told a German news conference, “all that was left in was Hope. In this case, if we have nuclear diffusion throughout the world, we may even lose hope.” In a major policy pronouncement little noticed compared to his Berlin City Hall address, he told the Free University of Berlin that a reunited Germany could best be attained in a reunited Europe on both sides of the Wall.
He completed his trip on July 2 at NATO headquarters in Naples. Even there he avoided the customary cold war rhetoric. “The purpose of our military strength,” he said, “the purpose of our partnership, is peace…. Negotiations for an end to nuclear tests and…attention to defense…are all complementary parts of a single strategy for peace.”
That night, as we flew back to Washington, a message radioed to the plane told of a Khrushchev speech that day in East Berlin. It endorsed an atmospheric nuclear test-ban treaty.
THE TEST BAN TREATY
To underline the importance he attached to the new three-power talks, and to increase their prospects for success, the President named his favorite trouble-shooter, Under Secretary of State Averell Harriman (who had also been suggested by Macmillan), as head of the new mission to Moscow. The designation of a sub-Cabinet officer instead of an arms control expert raised some eyebrows, inasmuch as it rendered useless a scheduled Rusk visit to Moscow the same month. But the President’s decision was final. After some tugging and hauling within the government, he completed a first-rate team, including Carl Kaysen from the White House, Adrian Fisher from Disarmament, John McNaughton from Defense, and William Tyler from State.
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In a series of meetings before their departure, he made clear his belief (1) that this was the last clear chance to stop the diffusion of nuclear tests and poisons and to start building mutual confidence with the Russians; (2) that the delegation should keep in daily contact with him; and (3) that extreme precautions should be taken to prevent their prospects of success from being ruined by any premature leak of their position. Instead of the usual wide circulation in all interested bureaus, he made arrangements for only six top officials outside the White House (Rusk, Ball, McNamara, McCone, Thompson and Foster) to read the cables from Moscow on a hand-delivered, “for-your-eyes-only” basis.
With Macmillan’s loyal help, he also arranged to have the American delegation lead for the West in the negotiations. Chief British negotiator Lord Hailsham, he observed—after Hailsham had spoken with him and the Prime Minister during Kennedy’s June stopover in England—wanted to play the role of mediator between the Russians and the Americans as Roosevelt had between Churchill and Stalin. The President had more confidence in Harriman, a shrewd, no-nonsense bargainer and a former Ambassador to Moscow.
The Adenauer government still took an alarmist attitude about the whole matter. But the trip to West Germany had improved popular as well as official feeling in that country about our intentions, the President told his negotiators, “and I am willing to draw on that as much as necessary, if it’s worthwhile. I don’t, however, want to do what we did in the Berlin talks, getting the Germans suspicious if the Russians aren’t going to agree on anything anyway.” Inasmuch as even a limited test-ban treaty required a Soviet acceptance of permanent American superiority in nuclear weapons, he refused to count too heavily on the success of the Moscow meetings.
Khrushchev had set the date for July 15, significantly little more than a week after he was to meet with a delegation from Red China. Glum with the Chinese, he was all smiles with Harriman and Hailsham. The United States and United Kingdom in 1962 had formally offered a draft treaty to ban nuclear tests in all environments except underground; and, once it was clear that a comprehensive treaty with inspection was not yet negotiable, that draft served as the basis for the Western negotiators. Soviet Foreign Minister Gromyko offered a shorter, less detailed draft of his own which Harriman felt left too many questions in doubt. With these two drafts on the table, ten days of intensive negotiations began.
Each evening during the negotiations the six officials listed above met with the President to discuss details of the talks. All communications to the delegation in Moscow were cleared through Kennedy. Frequently he altered or rewrote completely the daily cable of instructions prepared in the Department of State. He confidently granted considerable leeway to the initiative of his negotiators, and they in turn demonstrated considerable skill in representing his interest. But he made certain that over-all direction remained in his hands.
Questions arose in Moscow over peaceful-use explosions (as in building a new Panama Canal) and over spelling out the right to withdraw (“something like a marriage contract with a protocol for divorce,” said one observer). “Every word, every phrase, every sentence, every article was analyzed and discussed in Moscow,” said Harriman; and meantime the President was analyzing and discussing them in Washington. But the four basic foreign policy issues which arose had all been initially decided before the delegation left:
1. Was a treaty which did not ban underground tests desirable? The President said that it was—as a step toward halting the arms race, building trust, discouraging proliferation and preventing radioactive pollution. But he added the proviso that it must not be accompanied by another unpoliced moratorium on underground testing. He had warned in 1962 that the Soviet’s ability in 1961 to prepare secretly for test resumptions had placed us at a disadvantage he could not prudently accept again. The fact that we had subsequently completed all pending atmospheric tests of current importance reduced this worry considerably; but, in the absence of a comprehensive treaty with on-site inspection, the President intended to continue testing underground.
2. Was a summit meeting to sign such a treaty desirable? Macmillan wanted one, Kennedy didn’t. The French and West Germans would be aroused by Macmillan’s presence, he said. The British elections would be tied in, and his own discussions with Khrushchev would be too formal. But if a summit should prove necessary to securing Khrushchev’s approval, he told Harriman, he would go to the summit.
3. Was a simultaneous NATO-Warsaw Pact nonaggression treaty avoidable? The two treaties had been closely linked in Khrushchev’s July 2 speech, and there was apprehension that he would insist on both or neither. Kennedy was willing to explore any such pact that did not foreclose the ultimate reunification of Germany. But he and Macmillan could not speak for NATO, and he felt that Senate approval of the test ban would be difficult enough without this addition. Harriman’s task was to separate the two proposals and to defer consideration of the nonaggression pact until the Allies had a position.
4. Could future nuclear powers be induced to sign the treaty? The President hoped—but in vain—that some form of pressure was available to the Soviets to require the Communist Chinese to sign. (He regarded the resulting isolation of the Chinese, however, as a major gain; and the Soviets may have been similarly motivated.) He also hoped—but also in vain—that an offer of American assistance with French underground testing would persuade General De Gaulle to sign. He instructed Harriman to repeat our position that the MLF was designed to prevent nuclear proliferation, not add to it, but to explore without assurances whether our standing still on that project could help the Russians with the Chinese. By arranging for official texts to be open to other governments for signature in Moscow, London and Washington, such worries as our recognizing East Germany (who signed in Moscow) and Russia’s recognizing Nationalist China (who signed in Washington) could be avoided.
Once it appeared that a reasonable treaty was possible, the President was determined that no quibbling over language or sniping from his subordinates would prevent it. The force of his leadership in the daily sessions overrode all the nit-picking the skeptics could devise. He gave his final approval, clearing up one minor point at issue, in response to a telephone call from his negotiators in Moscow on the very day the treaty was concluded and initialed. It was July 25, 1963, six weeks after the American University address.
A formidable hurdle still remained—Senate approval. Congressional Republicans had consistently bombarded the President with attacks on “his fuzzy-thinking disarmament advisers” and their thinking on the test ban. Leading members of the influential Joint Atomic Energy Committee had predicted that anything other than “a reasonably foolproof test-ban agreement…[could be] a greater risk to the national security than an arms race,” because of our need to test new weapons. Democratic Senator Henry Jackson, even before the treaty was initialed, said that he and other members of the Senate Armed Services Committee were “cautiously skeptical.” Republican Senate leader Dirksen—who with Charles Halleck had earlier expressed the fear that the negotiations “may end in virtual surrender by our negotiators”—forecast that “a good many reservations would be presented.” Halleck added that the absence of inspection and the possibilities of cheating made the treaty “far more tragic than no agreement at all.”
The President’s chief concern was that enough Southern Democrats might combine with Republicans to prevent the necessary two-thirds vote. Angered by his civil rights bill, they would be hoping to use the treaty as a bargaining counter and follow the lead of Armed Services Committee Chairman Russell, who was opposed. A popular line among other conservative Congressmen and newspapers was the charge that “a secret deal with Khrushchev” had been made during the Moscow meetings at the price of this nation’s security. A Harris Poll found general public approval, but fewer than 50 percent giving “unqualified approval.” Many observers predicted “the biggest Senate foreign policy battle since the struggle over…the League of Nations treaty after World War I.”
The day after the treaty was initialed, the President took his case to the American people in one of his most effective televised addresses:
I speak to you tonight in a spirit of hope…. [Since] the advent of nuclear weapons, all mankind has been struggling to escape from the darkening prospect of mass destruction on earth…. Yesterday a shaft of light cut into the darkness….
This treaty is not the millennium…. But it is an important first step—a step toward peace, a step toward reason, a step away from war…. This treaty is for all of us. It is particularly for our children and our grandchildren, and they have no lobby here in Washington….
According to the ancient Chinese proverb, “A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.”… Let us take that first step.
Less than two weeks later he sent a strongly worded message to the Senate officially requesting consent to ratification. He urged approval at every press conference. He endorsed it again in the opening minutes of his TV address on the tax cut. He sent a letter of assurances to Mansfield and Dirksen. He spoke individually to key Senators on the fence. In each of these presentations he anticipated and answered with precision each argument raised in opposition.