Part 14 (2/2)

But even without a direct part in the fighting, the stepped-up U.S. program meant acting as much more than an adviser. ”We would expect to share in the decision-making process in the political, economic and military fields as they affected the military situation,” Kennedy wrote Diem. Specifically, Kennedy proposed to ”provide individual administrators and advisers for the Governmental machinery of South Viet-Nam,” as well as ”personnel for a joint survey with the GVN of conditions in each of the provinces to a.s.sess the social, political, intelligence and military factors bearing on the prosecution of the counter-insurgency program.”

As a condition of American help, Kennedy insisted that Diem put his ”nation on a wartime footing to mobilize its entire resources” and ”overhaul” his military command ”to create an effective military organization for the prosecution of the war.” Simultaneous with Kennedy's marching orders to Diem, the White House drafted a letter to Kennedy to be published under Diem's name. It was a demonstration of how little the White House trusted Diem to meet American demands and how eager Kennedy was to convince people at home and abroad of the justification for this deepening U.S. involvement in Vietnam's civil war. Diem's ghosted letter, which the White House published in December, said the North Vietnamese were relying on ”terror ... to subvert our people, destroy our government, and impose a communist regime upon us.” The nation, it said, faced the ”gravest crisis” in its history. Diem's letter promised a full mobilization of national resources but asked for further a.s.sistance to ensure a victory over the communist aggressors. His subsequent actions would give the lie to what Kennedy had committed him to in the letter.

AFTER HIS NOVEMBER 15 DECISIONS on Vietnam, Kennedy braced himself for protests from the domestic left and right. In speeches shortly afterward, he focused on their unrealistic views of foreign affairs. Though he never mentioned Vietnam, he had it in mind when he criticized liberals ”who cannot bear the burden of a long twilight struggle.” They were impatient for ”some quick and easy and final and cheap solution [to the communist threat]-now.” Nor, he said, were they correct in seeing U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia as neocolonialism or a defense of the international status quo. Kennedy saw the right's criticism of Vietnam policy as even more skewed. Their depiction of limited intervention as ”appeas.e.m.e.nt,” or a failure to use America's military muscle to decisively defeat communism, was part of a campaign of suspicion and fear that undermined rational responses to foreign problems. on Vietnam, Kennedy braced himself for protests from the domestic left and right. In speeches shortly afterward, he focused on their unrealistic views of foreign affairs. Though he never mentioned Vietnam, he had it in mind when he criticized liberals ”who cannot bear the burden of a long twilight struggle.” They were impatient for ”some quick and easy and final and cheap solution [to the communist threat]-now.” Nor, he said, were they correct in seeing U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia as neocolonialism or a defense of the international status quo. Kennedy saw the right's criticism of Vietnam policy as even more skewed. Their depiction of limited intervention as ”appeas.e.m.e.nt,” or a failure to use America's military muscle to decisively defeat communism, was part of a campaign of suspicion and fear that undermined rational responses to foreign problems.

During the winter of 1961-62, as the U.S. government implemented Kennedy's directives on Vietnam, further obstacles were thrown up by Saigon. Diem, who accurately saw the U.S. program turning his government and country into a protectorate of Was.h.i.+ngton, resisted ceding too much control. His opposition partly took the form of Vietnamese press criticism of U.S. diplomats and military officers. The Vietnamese complained that Americans lacked a proper understanding of an underdeveloped country's problems in becoming a Western-style democracy.

But democracy and democratization seemed far from Diem's mind, and from India, Galbraith recommended that the U.S. rid itself of him. ”He has run his course,” Galbraith told Kennedy. ”He cannot be rehabilitated.” Since he did not think that Diem could or would ”implement in any real way the reforms Was.h.i.+ngton has requested, we should make it quietly clear that we are withdrawing our support from him as an individual. His day would then I believe be over.” Galbraith thought it a cliche that there was no alternative to Diem. A better rule was that ”nothing succeeds like successors.”

Kennedy's problems with implementing Taylor's limited program matched his difficulties with Diem. Kennedy did not trust either the State or the Defense Department to carry out his wishes. ”I've told the Secretary frankly,” Bundy advised Kennedy of a conversation with Rusk, ”that you feel [the] need to have someone on this job that is wholly responsive to your [Vietnam] policy, and that you really do not get that sense from most of us.” Similarly, Kennedy worried about the reliability of both the emba.s.sy and the MAAG in Saigon. At Kennedy's request, Taylor entered into ”considerable discussion ... over the kind of organization required in South Vietnam to administer the accelerated U.S. program.” Taylor's advice was to stick with the organization already in place in Saigon until it proved inadequate. But Kennedy thought this was already the case.

Whatever the pace and whatever the organization, despite Kennedy's refusal to have Americans become full combatants, ”advisers” were inevitably drawn into firefights with the Viet Cong. Instructing Saigon's forces on antiguerrilla tactics meant accompanying them on field missions and involvement in the fighting. In addition, because the South Vietnamese lacked the training to fly some of the newest airplanes and helicopters, the MAAG a.s.signed U.S. pilots to fly them and pretended they were under Vietnamese command by a.s.signing one Vietnamese airman to every attack mission. To give the president ”plausible deniability” on air combat, the State Department euphemistically described ”combined crew operations” in aircraft bearing SVN markings. It was ”an agreed approach” sanctioned by the White House and State ”to avoid pinning down the President.”

KENNEDY KNEW THAT PUBLICITY about America's combat role would result in unwanted international and domestic repercussions. American involvement in the fighting was a clear violation of the 1954 Geneva Accords and made U.S. complaints about North Vietnamese and Chinese support of the Viet Cong appear hypocritical. More important, an avowal of American military operations would increase tensions with Hanoi, Peking, and Moscow, and difficulties with the USSR in reaching agreements on Southeast Asia, Germany, and arms control. It would be especially embarra.s.sing to Moscow, which had promised to support wars of national liberation in Asia and Africa against former colonial masters and neo-imperialists in Was.h.i.+ngton. On November 28, before expanded operations began, Rusk cabled the Saigon emba.s.sy, ”Do not give other than routine cooperation to correspondents on coverage current military activities in Vietnam. No comment at all on cla.s.sified activities.” about America's combat role would result in unwanted international and domestic repercussions. American involvement in the fighting was a clear violation of the 1954 Geneva Accords and made U.S. complaints about North Vietnamese and Chinese support of the Viet Cong appear hypocritical. More important, an avowal of American military operations would increase tensions with Hanoi, Peking, and Moscow, and difficulties with the USSR in reaching agreements on Southeast Asia, Germany, and arms control. It would be especially embarra.s.sing to Moscow, which had promised to support wars of national liberation in Asia and Africa against former colonial masters and neo-imperialists in Was.h.i.+ngton. On November 28, before expanded operations began, Rusk cabled the Saigon emba.s.sy, ”Do not give other than routine cooperation to correspondents on coverage current military activities in Vietnam. No comment at all on cla.s.sified activities.”

Kennedy also saw public disclosure of American involvement as touching off domestic demands for military commitments that could guarantee victory, even at the risk of nuclear war. If the struggle against the Viet Cong and Hanoi now became a losing cause, full knowledge of the South Vietnamese-American failure would stimulate an outcry for the United States to do more. Kennedy hoped that the current U.S. effort could be enough to sh.o.r.e up Saigon and force the communists into negotiations that would preserve an independent South Vietnam tied to the West. At the very least, he hoped that U.S. support would keep South Vietnam free of communist control for the foreseeable future. Ideally, U.S. help would give the Vietnamese the wherewithal to stand on their own and free American troops to go home. But if Vietnam was about to fall, he did not want to identify the United States too closely with its defeat.

By the middle of January 1962, two months after the Taylor program had been set in motion, reporters began to ask hard questions. Although only one American had been killed, restrictions on press freedom to cover combat missions aroused understandable suspicions that Was.h.i.+ngton and Saigon were hiding the truth about U.S. military operations in Vietnam. On January 15, when a reporter asked Kennedy at a news conference, ”Are American troops now in combat in Vietnam?” he answered, ”No.”

The press was justifiably not convinced. The presence of nearly thirty-five hundred U.S. military ”advisers” in Vietnam encouraged the belief that they were actively engaged in the fighting. By the middle of February, the State Department's public affairs officer warned that ”we seem headed for a major domestic furor over the 'undeclared' war in South Viet-Nam and [over] US imposed 'secrecy regulations' that prevent American newsmen from telling our people the truth about US involvement in that war.” Although reporters had ferreted out enough information to describe the United States as ”now involved in an undeclared war in South Vietnam,” the White House refused to ease its press restrictions. Pierre Salinger recalled that Kennedy was ”particularly sensitive” about press accounts of U.S. involvement in combat. He ”pushed hard for us to tighten the rules there under which correspondents would observe field operations in person.”

The State Department now instructed the emba.s.sy in Saigon to follow a policy of ”maximum feasible cooperation, guidance and appeal to good faith of correspondents.” But the department laid down guidelines that tightened rather than eased restrictions: Reporters were told that critical stories about Diem ”only make our task more difficult.”

At a February 14 press conference, a reporter asked Kennedy about his response to a Republican National Committee complaint that ”you have been less than candid with the American people as to how deeply we are involved in Viet-Nam.” Kennedy's answer, like the restrictions on the journalists in Saigon, was meant to obscure the truth. ”We have increased our a.s.sistance to the government-its logistics; we have not sent combat troops there, although the training missions that we have there have been instructed if they are fired upon to-they would of course fire back, to protect themselves. But we have not sent combat troops in the generally understood sense of the word. We have increased our training mission, and we've increased our logistic support... . I feel that we are being as frank as we can be.”

Unconvinced by Kennedy's explanation, the press continued to report on America's growing involvement in the conflict. Relying on U.S. military and South Vietnamese government sources, NBC and Time Time correspondents learned about the combat operations of American air forces. The emba.s.sy believed that it would be increasingly difficult to keep such information under wraps. (Diem wanted to try by proposing to expel correspondents learned about the combat operations of American air forces. The emba.s.sy believed that it would be increasingly difficult to keep such information under wraps. (Diem wanted to try by proposing to expel Newsweek Newsweek and and New York Times New York Times correspondents, but the U.S. emba.s.sy convinced him that it would do more harm than good.) correspondents, but the U.S. emba.s.sy convinced him that it would do more harm than good.) Two conditions made problems with the press irreducible. First, and most obvious, the U.S. role in the fighting was simply more than Kennedy was willing to admit. But second, and less clear, was the fact that U.S. personnel in Saigon were exceeding what Kennedy wanted them to do. On April 4, Harriman, who had become a.s.sistant secretary of state for Far Eastern affairs, cabled the Saigon emba.s.sy that press critics in Vietnam were describing the conflict as more of a U.S. than a Vietnamese war. The names of combat operations like ”Sunrise” and ”Farmgate” suggested ”U.S. rather than GVN planning,” and Americans were making themselves too conspicuous in their advisory activities. Reports of a large group of American colonels and civilians inspecting a stockade in Operation Sunrise was a case in point. ”Why do large groups of Americans inspect anything?” Harriman asked. Moreover, why were American officers talking so freely about their role in planning operations? ”It cannot be over stressed,” Harriman declared, ”that the conduct and utterances public and private of all U.S. personnel must reflect the basic policy of this government that we are in full support of Viet-Nam but we do not a.s.sume responsibility for Viet-Nam's war with the Viet Cong.”

A week later, Rusk cabled Saigon reinforcing the need for U.S. personnel to adhere to America's limited role in the fighting. The press was getting an ”erroneous impression” that was ”factually wrong and lacking perspective.” He urged all posts to make clear that ”U.S. personnel are not partic.i.p.ating directly in war nor are they directing war. Major U.S. effort is to train instructors rather than troops. However, given the fluidity and ubiquity of guerrilla warfare, necessarily Americans suffer occasional casualties in carrying out their training and logistical functions-e.g., taking part in training patrol exercises.”

Kennedy's desire to limit U.S. involvement in the conflict by keeping it off the front pages made a certain amount of sense, since the aim was as much, if not more, to limit America's part in the fighting as to maintain Saigon's autonomy. But would it not have been better for the administration to acknowledge its ambivalence about involving U.S. ground forces in Vietnam and encourage public debate? a.s.sertions that such a debate would have demoralized the Vietnamese are unpersuasive. As U.S. policy makers understood, if the Vietnamese were going to save themselves from a communist takeover, they would have to take prime responsibility for their fate. And as Kennedy knew from World Wars I and II and Korea, fighting a costly foreign war required steady public commitments that could only follow a national debate educating Americans about the country's vital stake in the conflict. By obscuring America's role and future choices in the conflict, Kennedy was making it impossible to fight in Vietnam-if that is what the country chose to do-with the backing necessary for a supportable war effort.

ALL THE ADMINISTRATION'S p.r.o.nOUNCEMENTS and directives could not alter the reality of direct American involvement in the conflict. Kennedy understood that he could only deny this fact for so long, that as Saigon's military failings increased pressure for more ”advisers” and American casualties rose, public demands for an accounting would mount. Consequently, when Galbraith returned to Was.h.i.+ngton in early April to testify on India before the House Foreign Affairs Committee, Kennedy welcomed a memo from him on how to escape the Vietnam trap. Galbraith's advice was simple. He warned that the United States was in danger of becoming the new colonial force in the area and then bleeding as the French did. The U.S. should help forge a neutral coalition government in South Vietnam and then perhaps leave. He urged, above all, against combat commitments. ”Americans in their various roles should be as invisible as the situation permits.” and directives could not alter the reality of direct American involvement in the conflict. Kennedy understood that he could only deny this fact for so long, that as Saigon's military failings increased pressure for more ”advisers” and American casualties rose, public demands for an accounting would mount. Consequently, when Galbraith returned to Was.h.i.+ngton in early April to testify on India before the House Foreign Affairs Committee, Kennedy welcomed a memo from him on how to escape the Vietnam trap. Galbraith's advice was simple. He warned that the United States was in danger of becoming the new colonial force in the area and then bleeding as the French did. The U.S. should help forge a neutral coalition government in South Vietnam and then perhaps leave. He urged, above all, against combat commitments. ”Americans in their various roles should be as invisible as the situation permits.”

On April 6, Kennedy discussed Vietnam with Harriman. He showed him Galbraith's memo, then asked that it be forwarded to McNamara and that Galbraith be instructed to ask the Indian government to approach Hanoi about holding peace talks. ”The President observed generally that he wished us to be prepared to seize upon any favorable moment to reduce our involvement, recognizing that the moment might yet be some time away.”

Indeed, Kennedy had no illusion that an end to the Vietnam conflict was in sight or that American involvement would not grow. In March, when asked by a reporter to a.s.sess ”the subterranean war” in Vietnam, he replied, ”I don't think you can make a judgment of the situation. It's very much up and down, as you know, from day to day, and week to week, so it's impossible to draw any long-range conclusions.” Mindful, however, of the dangers Galbraith had described, he was eager for the earliest possible withdrawal. True, he had approved a declaration by Bobby during a visit to Saigon in February that ”we are going to win in Vietnam. We will remain here until we do win.” But that was more an attempt to bolster Diem's morale and discourage the communists than a reliable commitment to an unconditional policy. For the time being, Kennedy wished to impress Hanoi, Peking, and Moscow with his determination to save Vietnam, and most everyone else with the belief that he would keep Vietnam from turning into a draining land war. If a limited U.S. commitment could maintain South Vietnam's independence for the immediate future, Hanoi might agree to a temporary settlement, which would allow an honorable exit for American troops. For all the reasons that had drawn him more fully into the conflict in November, Kennedy remained eager to preserve South Vietnam's autonomy. But his higher priority was to avoid leading the United States into a Southeast Asian disaster that would weaken its international standing and play havoc with his domestic political power.

During a May 1 conversation at the White House, Kennedy asked Harriman and Roger Hilsman, State's chief intelligence officer, if there was ”any merit in J. K. Galbraith's suggestion of negotiating a neutralized coalition government.” When the two ”vigorously opposed this recommendation,” Kennedy decided against trying it. He was not about to weaken the impression that he intended to save Saigon from a communist takeover by proposing unrealizable talks. But his query revealed his ongoing reluctance to deepen U.S. involvement in a possibly unwinnable war that could undermine U.S. prestige and freedom of maneuver abroad and political stability at home.

BETWEEN THE FALL OF 1961 and the spring of 1962, Vietnam was only one of Kennedy's burdens. Questions about whether and when to resume nuclear tests also caused him no small amount of anguish. In the run-up to the Vienna meeting with Khrushchev, Kennedy had struggled to find ways to convince Moscow of the need for a test ban treaty, looked for ways to ”increase public awareness of Soviet intransigence” on the issue, and wondered whether U.S. national security made new tests essential. But the meeting with Khrushchev in June had forced Kennedy's hand. Khrushchev's uncompromising response to negotiating proposals on weapons control had convinced Kennedy that the United States would have to resume testing, however repugnant it was to him. Added to this was the Soviet announcement at the end of August that they were resuming tests. ”Of all the Soviet provocations” in 1961 and 1962, Mac Bundy wrote, ”it was the resumption of testing that disappointed Kennedy most.” 1961 and the spring of 1962, Vietnam was only one of Kennedy's burdens. Questions about whether and when to resume nuclear tests also caused him no small amount of anguish. In the run-up to the Vienna meeting with Khrushchev, Kennedy had struggled to find ways to convince Moscow of the need for a test ban treaty, looked for ways to ”increase public awareness of Soviet intransigence” on the issue, and wondered whether U.S. national security made new tests essential. But the meeting with Khrushchev in June had forced Kennedy's hand. Khrushchev's uncompromising response to negotiating proposals on weapons control had convinced Kennedy that the United States would have to resume testing, however repugnant it was to him. Added to this was the Soviet announcement at the end of August that they were resuming tests. ”Of all the Soviet provocations” in 1961 and 1962, Mac Bundy wrote, ”it was the resumption of testing that disappointed Kennedy most.”

In November, after the Soviets had exploded a fifty-megaton bomb and conducted fifty atmospheric tests in sixty days, Kennedy felt compelled to make additional test preparations. At a National Security Council meeting on November 2, Kennedy's science advisers told him that ”if we test only underground and the Soviets tested in the atmosphere, they would surely pa.s.s us in nuclear technology.” In response, the president announced that the United States would now prepare atmospheric tests. But he also declared that America would only test if ”effective progress were not possible without such tests.” Even then, it would be done in a manner to restrict the fallout ”to an absolute minimum.”

Kennedy was so conflicted over the consequences of new atmospheric tests that, in Atomic Energy Commission head Glenn Seaborg's words, ”we now entered a prolonged period of uncertainty regarding preparations for atmospheric testing. A decision would seem to be made one day and withdrawn the next. Kennedy wanted to take a firm stand and be ready; yet he wanted to keep his options open: he was reluctant to take steps that might bar the way to a test ban.”

Kennedy's ambivalence was on display during a two-day meeting with Macmillan in Bermuda in December. The British wanted to continue negotiating with the Russians for a test ban and a comprehensive arms control agreement, however unrealizable these seemed. Macmillan believed that Khrushchev was as eager as they were to avoid a nuclear holocaust. (When Macmillan asked him what would happen if all the bombs in the world exploded, Khrushchev responded, ”There would be n.o.body left but the Chinese and the Africans.”) Kennedy was sympathetic to British concerns, but he emphasized how untrustworthy Moscow had been in recent arms talks. They had prepared their latest tests while negotiating insincerely in Geneva. ”We could not get taken twice,” he said. He described himself as a ”great ant.i.tester” but said he felt compelled to prepare to test and then only do so if it were absolutely essential. Kennedy accurately forecast that ”before long the nuclear arms race would come to a standoff where neither side could use these weapons because it would be destroyed if it did.”

Seaborg came away from the Bermuda talks, where he was a ”spectator,” with the distinct impression that in private Kennedy was ”considerably more in favor of accepting risks and making compromises in order to achieve a test ban than either he or U.S. negotiators ever allowed themselves to be in public.” The realities of American politics, especially Senate skepticism about a test ban agreement, constrained them.

As Ted Sorensen put it to Seaborg: ”Kennedy was a multi-faceted individual. By that I don't mean that he was all things to all men. I simply mean that he had a way of engaging the other person, of building bridges to him, of keeping his interest and sympathy without committing himself to the other's view until he had weighed all the options... . Kennedy was determined not to permit himself to buy a test ban agreement which the Senate would reject because he felt that would be a disastrous setback to the whole movement in which he believed so strongly.”

At the close of the conference, Kennedy and Macmillan announced their determination, ”as a matter of prudent planning,” to prepare atmospheric tests. However, the final decision would depend on future arms talks, which they pledged to continue with full understanding that an agreement was the only way to break out of the current dangerous arms race Over the next two months, while chances for a test ban agreement slipped away, Kennedy repeatedly sought a.s.surances from his advisers that a decision to resume testing was essential. On January 15, when asked at a news conference about the most rewarding and disappointing events during his first year in office, he began with his greatest disappointment: ”Our failure to get an agreement on the cessation of nuclear testing, because ... that might have been a very important step in easing the tension and preventing a proliferation of [nuclear] weapons.” The most heartening thing he could cite was a ”greater surge for unity in the Western nations, and in our relations with Latin America.” No wonder that when Sorensen told him that reporters were considering writing books on the Year of the New Frontier, Kennedy looked at him quizzically and said, ”Who would want to read a book on disasters?”

Kennedy agreed to atmospheric tests at the end of April but directed that they be done on Christmas Island, a British possession in the Pacific, rather than at a Nevada test site. He feared the domestic reaction to newspaper pictures of a mushroom cloud over the United States. Still, because he felt so strongly about the issue and the need to explain it fully to peoples everywhere, Kennedy gave a lengthy (forty-five-minute) prime-time televised address from the Oval Office. His distress at having to announce atmospheric tests was evident in his grim demeanor and words. By unleas.h.i.+ng the power of the atom, he said, mankind had taken ”into his mortal hands the power of self-extinction... . For of all the awesome responsibilities entrusted to this office, none is more somber to contemplate than the special statutory authority to employ nuclear arms in defense of our people and freedom.” The ongoing threat to America's survival dictated that it maintain a sufficient deterrent force-a nuclear a.r.s.enal that could survive any surprise attack and devastate the attacker. Kennedy then recounted the history of the moratorium on testing dating from 1958 and the callous Soviet decision to resume mostly atmospheric tests the previous fall. Saying that ”no single decision of this Administration has been more thoroughly or more thoughtfully weighed,” Kennedy announced the need to conduct atmospheric tests in the Pacific at the end of April. a.s.suring viewers that the tests would present no significant health hazard to the world, and certainly ”far less than the contamination created by last fall's Soviet series,” he nevertheless regretted ”that even one additional individual's health may be risked in the foreseeable future” by testing.

The rest of his speech was chiefly an explanation of U.S. technical gains from the explosions and the impact they might have on relations with Moscow, and an expression of his continuing hopes for an end to tests and the arms race. Most important, Kennedy believed that a resumption of U.S. nuclear tests would be not only a deterrent to war but also a demonstration that Moscow could not achieve nuclear superiority and would do better to negotiate a test ban than to continue tests that would injure its international prestige, pollute the world's atmosphere, and increase tensions with the West. ”It is our hope and prayer,” Kennedy concluded, ”that these ... deadly weapons will never have to be fired-and that our preparations for war will bring about the preservation of peace.”

THE BERLIN CRISIS in the summer and fall of 1961 had made civil defense a more compelling security and political priority, and between the spring of 1961 and the summer of 1962, civil defense preparations became another administration headache. In his July address on Berlin, Kennedy had announced that the secretary of defense would now take responsibility for a fallout shelter program and that he would ask Congress to triple the appropriation for civil defense from $104 to $311 million. In August, he had instructed McNamara to move ”as quickly as possible on Civil Defense.” He wanted weekly reports on the progress of the program and wondered whether ”it would be useful for me to write a letter to every homeowner in the United States giving them instructions as to what can be done on their own to provide greater security for their family.” In September, Kennedy provided a letter to in the summer and fall of 1961 had made civil defense a more compelling security and political priority, and between the spring of 1961 and the summer of 1962, civil defense preparations became another administration headache. In his July address on Berlin, Kennedy had announced that the secretary of defense would now take responsibility for a fallout shelter program and that he would ask Congress to triple the appropriation for civil defense from $104 to $311 million. In August, he had instructed McNamara to move ”as quickly as possible on Civil Defense.” He wanted weekly reports on the progress of the program and wondered whether ”it would be useful for me to write a letter to every homeowner in the United States giving them instructions as to what can be done on their own to provide greater security for their family.” In September, Kennedy provided a letter to Life Life magazine urging readers to consider seriously the contents of an article ent.i.tled ”You Could Be Among the 97% to Survive If You Follow Advice in These Pages.” Realistically, Kennedy did not share this illusion; his science adviser Jerome Wiesner characterized the article as ”grossly misleading.” Nevertheless, Kennedy still believed-or said he believed-in civil defense as ”an insurance policy” that could save some lives. The political dangers to a president choosing to ignore the issue or honestly debunk shelters as a false defense against civilian casualties were enough to force Kennedy into outspoken support. magazine urging readers to consider seriously the contents of an article ent.i.tled ”You Could Be Among the 97% to Survive If You Follow Advice in These Pages.” Realistically, Kennedy did not share this illusion; his science adviser Jerome Wiesner characterized the article as ”grossly misleading.” Nevertheless, Kennedy still believed-or said he believed-in civil defense as ”an insurance policy” that could save some lives. The political dangers to a president choosing to ignore the issue or honestly debunk shelters as a false defense against civilian casualties were enough to force Kennedy into outspoken support.

In October, Kennedy commended the nation's governors for their attentiveness to civil defense and told a press conference that it was wise to do everything possible to increase the chances of protecting families from the dangers of a nuclear war. At the same time, the Pentagon completed a draft of a survival pamphlet slated for distribution to every household in America. Marc Raskin and other skeptics at the NSC and the White House made fun of it as potentially ”the most widely distributed piece of literature in man's history outside of the Bible.” (They also ridiculed the booklet's simplistic recommendations on how to protect yourself from a nuclear attack by referring to it as ”Fallout Is Good for You.”) A chain reaction of additional concerns soon ensued. Stories about suburbanites in New Jersey and California arming themselves with weapons to fend off migrants from New York and Los Angeles seeking refuge in their shelters created additional antipathy for the program. A church official's a.s.surance to paris.h.i.+oners that it was permissible to shoot neighbors trying to break into their shelters moved Newsweek Newsweek to compare such citizens to prehistoric cavemen. In November, Galbraith, Schlesinger, and Sorensen weighed in with letters to the president complaining of a program that seemed calculated ”to save the better elements of the population” and write off the less affluent, who lacked the means to build fallout shelters. Schlesinger saw the program as generating ”an alarming amount of bewilderment, confusion and, in some cases, (both pro and con) of near hysteria.” People were beginning to have ”a false sense of security-a belief that ... a nuclear war will be no worse than a bad cold.” This would encourage pressure for militancy over negotiation. By contrast, he said, pacifists panicked by thoughts of war would demand unilateral disarmament and would ask Americans, Wouldn't you be ”better red than dead”? Sorensen told Kennedy, ”Civil defense is rapidly blossoming into our number one political headache, alienating those who believe we're doing too much or too little.” Sorensen also doubted that the fallout program would significantly reduce casualties in a nuclear war. It would do nothing to discourage an attack and might ”only spur the enemy into developing even more destructive weapons.” to compare such citizens to prehistoric cavemen. In November, Galbraith, Schlesinger, and Sorensen weighed in with letters to the president complaining of a program that seemed calculated ”to save the better elements of the population” and write off the less affluent, who lacked the means to build fallout shelters. Schlesinger saw the program as generating ”an alarming amount of bewilderment, confusion and, in some cases, (both pro and con) of near hysteria.” People were beginning to have ”a false sense of security-a belief that ... a nuclear war will be no worse than a bad cold.” This would encourage pressure for militancy over negotiation. By contrast, he said, pacifists panicked by thoughts of war would demand unilateral disarmament and would ask Americans, Wouldn't you be ”better red than dead”? Sorensen told Kennedy, ”Civil defense is rapidly blossoming into our number one political headache, alienating those who believe we're doing to

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