Category: General

Reviews of television programs and on-line videos treating the assassinations of the 1960s, their historical and political context and aftermath, and the investigations conducted.

  • CNN’s Apologia for LBJ, Part Two

    CNN’s Apologia for LBJ, Part Two


    see Part 1

    Early on in Joe Califano’s book, he writes the following about LBJ and Vietnam: “He certainly thought he was doing what John Kennedy would have done…” (p. 28). Califano’s book was published in 1991. The best one can say about that statement is that, even for that time, it was ill informed, because even back then, there was evidence that this was not even close to being the case. For example, Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers had written that Johnson had actually broken with what JFK was doing. As they stated, Kennedy was going to withdraw a thousand advisors before the end of 1963. (The authors here were referring to Kennedy’s NSAM 263 without naming it.) Kennedy then told Defense Secretary Robert McNamara to announce this to the press in October of 1963. (Johnny, We Hardly Knew Ye, p. 17) Based on the paper trail in the Pentagon Papers, Peter Scott also wrote about this withdrawal plan. (Government by Gunplay, edited by Sidney Blumenthal and Harvey Yazijian, pp. 152–187)

    CNN more or less adapts the Califano stance for this all-important issue. Why is it so important? If one is trying to salvage Lyndon Johnson’s presidency, it is imperative to somehow show that his radical escalation of the Vietnam War was really not his idea. There are two underlying reasons for doing this. First, Johnson’s escalation was not one of degree—it was an escalation in kind. LBJ would end up sending 500,000 combat troops into Vietnam. On the day Kennedy was killed, there were none there; only advisors. (The program tries to alchemize this by saying Kennedy had 16,00 troops in theater—utterly wrong.) Secondly, LBJ began Operation Rolling Thunder, the largest air bombing campaign since World War II, over both parts of the country. Even Califano admits that these American strikes extended to targets in and around Hanoi and Haiphong and close to the Chinese border. (Califano, p. 293) Kennedy never did anything like this—let alone to the extent of bomb tonnage that Johnson dropped.

    So what does the film do to relieve this heavy cross on Johnson’s back? To anyone who knows what really happened, it attempts something kind of shocking. Through Andrew Young, the film tries to say that, in December of 1964, it was McNamara, National Security Advisor McGeorge Bundy, and Secretary of State Dean Rusk who were trying to convince Johnson to go to war in Vietnam. How on earth the film makers from Bat Bridge Entertainment got Young—usually a smart guy in public—to say this is a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes. How they ignored all the evidence declassified by the Assassination Records Review Board which contradicts it, is even more mystifying. Let me explain why.

    II

    Two of the most important pieces of evidence in Oliver Stone’s documentary JFK Revisited: Through the Looking Glass concern the Vietnam War. Back in December of 1997, the Assassination Records Review Board declassified the records of the May 1963, SecDef meeting in Hawaii. These were regular meetings held by Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara on the progress of the war. Representatives of branches of the American government stationed in Saigon, for example CIA, Pentagon, and State, were in attendance. Those May 1963 documents were so direct and powerful that they convinced the New York Times and Philadelphia Inquirer that, at the time of his death, Kennedy was getting out of Vietnam. (Probe Magazine, Vol. 5 No. 3, p. 19) They showed that McNamara had given the order to begin a withdrawal program previously. And at this meeting various parties were submitting these schedules. To which McNamara replied: they were too slow. This supplied powerful corroboration for what O’Donnell, Powers, Scott and John Newman had written about—Newman in the 1992 edition of his breakthrough book JFK and Vietnam.

    The other important piece of evidence in this regard is a taped phone call that President Johnson had with McNamara on February 20, 1964:

    LBJ: I always thought it was foolish for you to make any statements about withdrawing. I thought it was bad psychologically. But you and the president thought otherwise, and I just silently.

    RSN: The problem is—

    LBJ: Then come the questions: how in the hell does McNamara think, when he’s losing a war, he can pull men out of there?

    That tape is played loud and clear in the film, which has been out since November of last year, but Stone could have gone even further in this regard. Because in another phone call on March 2, 1964, Johnson tried to convince McNamara to revise his prior statements about withdrawing from Vietnam. (James Blight, Virtual JFK, p. 310) Further, in a January 1965 phone call, Johnson has learned that some of Kennedy’s hires now felt the new president was trying to shift the blame for the escalation of the war from himself to his dead predecessor, which was quite a logical deduction. (ibid, p. 306)

    After his attempt to turn around McNamara on the war, Johnson set up an interagency committee headed by State Department employee William Sullivan. That committee was to plan the possible expansion of the war. (Eugene Windchy, Tonkin Gulf, p. 309) In six weeks, Sullivan concluded that nothing but direct intervention by America would stop the eventual triumph of the Viet Cong. (Joseph Goulden, Truth is the First Casualty, pp. 77­–88).

    In light of that conclusion, there is a telling point to be made about the choice of Sullivan to lead this committee. In October of 1963, Sullivan was one of the strongest opponents of Kennedy’s withdrawal plan. (John Newman, JFK and Vietnam, Second Edition, p. 410) To put it mildly, Johnson likely knew the result he was going to get from Sullivan.

    Taken as a whole, what this accumulation of evidence shows is not just that Johnson reversed Kennedy’s policy in Vietnam, but he knew he was reversing it and then tried to camouflage that reversal. It also indicates that Johnson’s intent in this regard was established fairly early. The usual point of no return is considered to be the signing of NSAM 288 in March of 1964. That document mapped out a large-scale air war over North Vietnam, which Johnson invited the Joint Chiefs to design for him. (Fredrik Logevall, Choosing War, p. 129) As one commentator wrote about it: “Henceforth the United States would be committed not merely to advising the Saigon government, but to maintaining it.” (ibid) At that time, Max Frankel of the New York Times wrote that the administration had now rejected “all thought of a graceful withdrawal.” (March 21, 1964) As Gordon Goldstein has noted, Johnson was now working hand in glove with the Joint Chiefs on these future plans. (Lessons in Disaster, pp. 108–09)

    This last is another marked difference with Kennedy. As former undersecretary Roger Hilsman wrote to the New York Times, JFK did not want any member of the Joint Chiefs to even visit South Vietnam, so the idea of him inviting them into the Oval Office to plan a massive air war there was simply a non-starter. (Letter of January 20, 1992) In other words, what Kennedy did not do for three years, Johnson did in three months.

    Make no mistake, this was a key step in Johnson’s escalation. It was the document that would supply the working thesis for future air operations Pierce Arrow—retaliation for the alleged Tonkin Gulf incident—and Flaming Dart—retaliation for the Viet Cong attack at Pleiku—and those would evolve into Rolling Thunder. All of this counters Califano’s excuse for escalation in his book: that somehow the Joint Chiefs pressured LBJ into escalating. (Chapter 2, pp. 50ff) This is made possible by Califano not mentioning or describing NSAM 288, or how that process differed from JFK.

    Why do I indicate that LBJ had all but certainly decided on a war against North Vietnam by the spring of 1964? Because one of his objectives was to get the Washington Post in his corner on this decision; so he enlisted their support in advance. In April of 1964, Johnson invited the executives of that paper, plus Kay Graham, the owner, to the White House. In the family dining room, he asked for their support for this planned expansion of the war in Vietnam. (Carol Felsenthal, Power, Privilege, and the Post, p. 234)

    III

    If that is not enough to convince the reader that the program and Andrew Young are wrong about the December 1964 date, how about this: the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution was drafted three months before it was submitted to congress. (Edwin Moise, Tonkin Gulf and the Escalation of the Vietnam War, p. 27) In other words, in May, one month after Johnson told the Washington Post he wanted their support for a future war, he had an attorney sketch a rough draft of a declaration of war in Vietnam. Like the other steps on the way to intervention, I could not find this event mentioned in either CNN’s film or Califano’s book. It would seem to me to be a quite important revelation as to intent. But let us go a step beyond it: What made Johnson rather certain that the war resolution would be used? Because Johnson’s planning even spoke of a “dramatic event” that could occur to cause the White House to go for a congressional resolution. (Moise, p. 30)

    Johnson had approved a covert action plan after Kennedy’s death. General Maxwell Taylor had drawn up designs for fast hit-and-run sea operations against North Vietnam in September of 1963, but that plan was not submitted to McNamara until November 20, 1963. (Newman, p. 385) These attacks were eventually titled OPLAN 34A. Originally, the draft of NSAM 273 limited naval forces to those of the government of South Vietnam. On November 26, 1963, Johnson altered McGeorge Bundy’s draft. When OPLAN 34A was submitted to the White House, it now allowed direct American military attacks against North Vietnam. (Newman, p. 463) As Edwin Moise shows, these PT boat operations owed just about everything to the USA and were completely controlled by Americans. (Moise, pp. 12–17) They likely could not have been done by Saigon alone.

    It was the combination of OPLAN 34A with the already-in-practice DeSoto patrols that all but guaranteed an exchange between Hanoi and the Pentagon in the Gulf of Tonkin. The PT boats were designed and equipped with armaments that could be used to attack Hanoi’s military installations near the shore, which they did. The idea was for the OPLAN 34A missions to create a disturbance and then the destroyers in the gulf could theoretically gain some kind of intelligence from the reaction. The problem was that both the boats and the ships violated the territorial waters of North Vietnam. (Moise, pp. 50–51) The PT boats attacked the islands of Hon Me and Hon Ngu off the coast of North Vietnam on the night of July 30–31. The latter was 4 kilometers off the coast, the former about 12. Hanoi was claiming their waters ended at 12 miles, therefore both islands would be within their boundaries. When the PT boats retreated, they were within sight of one of the destroyers on a DeSoto mission, the Maddox, which had just entered the gulf. (Moise, p. 56)

    Therefore all the elements were in place for a confrontation. On the night of August 2nd, Hanoi sent out three torpedo boats to counter the raiders. They were all severely damaged by American fire and four North Vietnamese sailors were killed. The Maddox endured one bullet hole from a machine gun round. In spite of this engagement, President Johnson continued the patrols and the Navy added a second destroyer, the Turner Joy, to the mission. What made it even worse is that the PT boats attacked another North Vietnamese base on the evening of the 3rd of August. (Moise, p. 97) This is why many, including George Ball of State, considered the missions to be clear provocations. (Moise, p. 100)

    Needless to say, the alleged Hanoi attack on the two destroyers on the night of August 4th never really occurred. Yet Johnson used this false reporting to launch the first American air strikes against the north, based on the NSAM 288 target list, and also to pass the Tonkin Gulf Resolution which has been penned three months earlier. (Moise, p. 212) But all of the above is not the worst. The worst is this: Johnson realized the second attack did not occur about one week after he ordered the air strikes. (Moise, p. 210)

    In light of all the above, to say that Johnson was being talked into a war by Bundy, McNamara, and Rusk in December is simply hogwash. And to say, as the program does, that Johnson was not a war monger is equally wrong. The total debate time on the Tonkin Gulf Resolution was about 8 hours. (Goulden, p. 75) And everyone sent up by the White House to testify for the resolution denied there was any connection between the DeSoto missions and the OPLAN 34A operations—which was false. (Goulden, p. 76)

    But there were two grand benefits garnered from the provocations:

    1. LBJ’s approval ratings on the war skyrocketed. As one commentator noted, he had turned his one weakness against GOP candidate Barry Goldwater into a strength.

    2. He got his declaration through. (Goulden, p. 77) The very fact he did the latter undermines what Tom Johnson says about the war: that the SEATO Treaty alone necessitated our involvement.

    IV

    Califano deals with the case of William Fulbright in one desultory page near the end of his book. (Califano, p. 360) CNN and Bat Bridge do not really deal with him at all. The Arkansas senator and Johnson had been friends prior to 1965. In fact, Johnson used Fulbright to get his Tonkin Gulf resolution through the Senate; the unsuspecting Fulbright trusted him. He ended up regretting it.

    The CNN series does not mention the 1965 invasion of the Dominican Republic either. Yet the two subjects are related, because Fulbright’s relationship with LBJ collapsed over the lies Johnson had told him about that 25,000 man Marine invasion in the Caribbean in 1965. Fulbright was the chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee. He had helped expedite both the Latin American invasion and the Tonkin Gulf resolution. Ironically, it was Fulbright’s reinvestigation of the former that led to his doubts about Tonkin Gulf and ultimately wrecked the relationship. One can even argue this was the main engine for Johnson’s capsized approval ratings, which resulted in his abdication.

    In June of 1965, Fulbright’s staff had begun to examine the reasons Johnson had given for the April 28, 1965, invasion of the island. At every opportunity, the reasons for the invasion were escalated and sensationalized. This culminated in June with the excuse that 1,500 people were killed, heads were cut off, the American ambassador called while hiding under a desk with bullets flying through windows, and Americans were huddled in a hotel screaming for protection. (Goulden, p. 166) The staff found out that this was mostly nonsense and Fulbright decided to give a scathing speech in which he said that there was simply no evidence to back up what Johnson had told him about decapitations and bullets flying through embassy windows. The democratically elected leader, Juan Bosch—who the Marine invasion fatally crushed—had been favored by President Kennedy. (Donald Gibson, Battling Wall Street, pp. 78–79) Therefore, Johnson’s reversal of JFK’s policy “lent credence to the idea that the United States is the enemy of social revolution in Latin America…” (Goulden, p. 167)

    Fulbright now suspected that maybe the White House had also lied about the Tonkin Gulf Resolution. In November and December of 1965, he and his staff now prepared for full-blown hearings on the Vietnam War. Fulbright called up administration official after official and quizzed them on both what the real purpose of the Tonkin Gulf resolution was, and if the administration had been candid about its provenance. The hearings themselves were damaging enough to Johnson, but when CBS and NBC decided to run them at full length for days on end, they began to really hurt him politically. For the first time, administration officials had to defend the remarkable escalation of the Indochina conflict and reply to questions about if the Gulf of Tonkin resolution was justified. There had been nothing like it since the Army/McCarthy hearings and there would be nothing like it again until the Watergate hearings.

    Average Americans now began to be informed about how America got into an open-ended conflict that had seemingly escalated beyond what anyone had ever thought it could be. But perhaps most importantly, the hearings dramatically illustrated the formula for the following:

    …what had happened to turn the liberal supporters of President Kennedy into opponents of the policies of President Johnson…and the right-wing opponents of Eisenhower and Kennedy into supporters of the present administration… (Goulden, p. 166)

    In other words, how Johnson had fragmented the Democratic Party beyond saving.

    Neither Califano’s book nor the CNN series figuratively lifts up the hood to show the audience just how Johnson was finally convinced to get out of Indochina. Since they will not, the present reviewer shall. After the Tet offensive, and during the siege of Khe Sanh, several foreign policy luminaries were asked to attend a Pentagon briefing at the White House—after which LBJ ranted and raved for about 45 minutes. This compelled former Secretary of State Dean Acheson to walk out. A White House staffer called him and asked him why he left. Being blunt, Acheson told him to “Shove Vietnam up your ass!” Johnson got on the phone and Acheson told him he would no longer listen to “canned briefings.” He only wanted to hear from people on the scene in Vietnam and would only accept raw data, not finished reports. About a month after this, Johnson sent his new Secretary of Defense over to the Pentagon. Clark Clifford went over the data and then quizzed the Joint Chiefs on the overall situation on the ground. He concluded that the only way to win the war was to expand it into Cambodia and Laos. Clifford reported back to Johnson that he should get out; Vietnam was a hopeless mess. (Walter Isaacson and Evan Thomas, The Wise Men, pp. 683–89; see also Clifford in the documentary film Hearts and Minds.)

    That is apparently too strong a truth for CNN and Bat Bridge Entertainment, which tells the reader a lot about the value and candor of this disappointing production. The program ends with the Richard Nixon/Anna Chennault subterfuge of Johnson’s attempt at a truce in Vietnam—which was about four years too late. (Click here for details)

    In sum, this is a disappointing and less-than-candid four-part series about Johnson and his presidency.  These kinds of programs make it difficult to understand the past, and therefore stifle our attempts to deal with the present.

  • Deep Fake Politics: The Prankster, the Prosecutor, and the Para-political

    Deep Fake Politics: The Prankster, the Prosecutor, and the Para-political


    In Part 1 of this review, I covered some of the ways in which the Adam Curtis documentary Can’t Get You Out of My Head (hereafter CGYOMH) serves to misinform the audience about the nature of power in the US-dominated global capitalist system. In particular, I chose to focus on how CGYOMH deals with high finance and the international monetary system. These are realms that Curtis tendentiously obscures and distorts. In this installment, I am going to try and unpack his muddled and incoherent takes on Kerry Thornley, the JFK assassination in its historical context, and “conspiracy theory” in general.

    JFK, the Prosecutor, and the Provocateur

    For some reason, Curtis decided to weigh in on the JFK assassination. This is an event that should be very relevant to topics and themes under discussion, namely: power, secrecy, the state, and conspiracy. Though there have been a lot of good books written about the JFK assassination, from the looks of it, Curtis apparently did not read any of them. If he had done so, there would have been many angles that he could have taken to discuss the case, even if he could not cover the assassination in a comprehensive manner. For instance, he could have talked about the impossibility of the magic bullet theory. He could have discussed the overwhelming number of witnesses in Dallas and Bethesda who reported a massive exit wound to the back of Kennedy’s head, indicating a shot or shots from the front. He could have read David Talbot’s Brothers and then discussed how RFK came to believe that his brother had been killed as the result of a right-wing plot involving elements of the CIA, the Cuban exile community, and organized crime. The audience might have also appreciated learning about how RFK was assassinated before he could attain the presidency and reinvestigate Dallas—something he explicitly said he would do. Or Curtis could have focused on how, beginning in the immediate aftermath of Oswald’s assassination, Establishment figures like Dean Acheson, Eugene Rostow, and Joseph Alsop began lobbying LBJ to create a “blue ribbon” commission that would arrive at a predetermined no-conspiracy conclusion. Additionally, Curtis could have revealed that as part of this exercise, LBJ used the specter of nuclear Armageddon to pressure Chief Justice Earl Warren and Senator Richard Russell into joining the commission.

    Curtis didn’t do any of the above. Not even close.

    For whatever reason, Curtis focuses on the figure of Kerry Thornley. In and of itself, this is not the worst choice. Thornley’s bizarre and implausible actions point very strongly to the conspiracy behind Dallas. But alas, it seems that since the grim implications of a coup d’état in Dallas would so dramatically falsify Curtis’ quizzically iconoclastic worldview, the director instead must offer a quirky and incoherent take on Kerry Thornley and his nemesis Jim Garrison. Regarding the Adam Curtis worldview that precludes him dealing with Dallas forthrightly, it is a difficult thing to pin down. Given that he has produced documentary films, totaling dozens and dozens of hours of runtime, it is noteworthy that one cannot get a clear grasp of what Curtis’ worldview actually is. I have to conclude that this is intentional on the part of the filmmaker, and that it is pretty dubious in and of itself. The easiest thing to say about his politics, which I mentioned in Part 1 of this review, is that he is anti-left. His anti-leftism takes an odd form, as he does not extol any obviously right-wing ideas. Instead, he often seems suspicious of power—especially technocratic power—but he seems even more suspicious of those who are suspicious of power. His detached, faux-anarchist analysis—for reasons I’ll not fully articulate—brings to my mind another British persona, the famed Bilbo Baggins. While I have a fondness for Tolkien’s The Hobbit, I would not look for someone like Bilbo Baggins to illuminate the dark pinnacle of capitalist imperium.

    So, what does Thornley do for Curtis? He largely serves to allow Curtis to be dismissive of “conspiracy theories,” even as he is superficially ambivalent about actual conspiracies elsewhere in the film. The conspiracies he does acknowledge are attributed to conspirators of low to middling status or non-Westerners. The ultimately sad or pathetic conspirators include Michael X, Jiang Qing, the cops who entrapped some Black Panthers, and European Red Guards. Even when Curtis acknowledges CIA plots to overthrow governments in places like Congo, Syria, and Iraq, they are not explained as being part and parcel of the geopolitical strategy of US imperialism. Rather, Curtis seems to imply that these disastrous interventions are the product of bureaucrats who are in some way misguided. Though there are innumerable instances where such covert operations (i.e. conspiracies) can be easily traced back to a materialist motive, Curtis doesn’t seem to want to state this clearly or to hash out the implications. Even when he does acknowledge the postcolonial exploitation of the Third World, it seems to be some sort of piecemeal phenomena arising through random policy choices.

    Thornley’s tale is curated so that he can play the role Curtis has in mind for him. It is deftly rendered and dispersed in random intervals throughout the eight-hour runtime of CGYOMH. The Kerry Thornley arc in CGYOMYH begins with Curtis telling us how Thornley and his friend Greg Hill went to a bowling alley where they disagreed about whether the universe was orderly or chaotic. They eventually came to the conclusion that the world was chaotic, but that individuals could use their minds to create some semblance of order. But then something strange happened. Thornley joined the Marines, where he met a young defiant man named Lee Oswald. He decided he would write a novel about Oswald. While Thornley was writing this novel, Oswald defected to the Soviet Union. As a right-wing Ayn Rand devotee, Thornley detested Kennedy. He did not mourn when JFK died. But the fact that the figure he cast in his novel was the president’s alleged assassin was, according to Thornley, “very weird.”

    A little over two years before the assassination, Kerry Thornley moved to New Orleans with Greg Hill. They had begun to spin a spoof religion called Discordianism. Curtis states that around this time, Thornley got his Oswald novel published under the title, The Idle Warriors. This is an error; the novel did not get published until 1991—in the wake of Oliver Stone’s JFK. As Curtis would have it, Thornley ran into trouble because of the novel and the fact that—like Oswald before the assassination—Thornley was living in New Orleans in 1967. Thusly, Thornley “came to the notice of the man who was going to be the main creator of the JFK conspiracy theory…Jim Garrison.”

    Curtis does not present Garrison favorably. He states that:

    Jim Garrison believed that the modern democratic system in America was just a façade. That behind it was another secret system of power that really controlled the country, but you could never discover it through normal means because it was so deeply hidden.

    Curtis reveals that Garrison wrote a memo entitled “Time and Propinquity” for his staff, in which he tried to explain how they might grapple with this secret government. Meaning and logic are always hidden and so they should instead look for patterns—strange coincidences and links that are apparently meaningless but in actuality evidence of the hidden system of power. Curtis asserts that Garrison’s theory would be a big impact on how many people would come to understand the world:

    In a dark world of hidden power, you couldn’t expect everything to make sense. [I]t was pointless to try and understand the meaning of why something happened, because that would always be hidden from you. What you looked for were the patterns. And when Garrison read Kerry Thornley’s novel, he saw a pattern. Not only had Thornley been in the Marines with Oswald and written a novel about him, but he had come to live in the same city that Oswald had lived in before the assassination. And in 1967, Garrison accused Thornley of being part of the conspiracy. Thornley was furious; he knew that Garrison was wrong, but he also hated the very idea of conspiracy theories.

    Thornley, Curtis tells us, believed that people in power used conspiracy theories to control people by making them believe that the world was run by hidden forces. This served to make individuals feel “weak and powerless.” Curtis does not bother to point out that Thornley is essentially positing a conspiracy theory to explain conspiracy theories. Thornley claimed that he wanted to free people from the conspiratorial thinking that held them back. He wanted to break people out of their “authoritarian conditioning.”

    II

    As he began to take on the CIA in the mid-1960’s, Garrison was necessarily flying blind to a certain degree. The massive clandestine intelligence community was something novel in the American experience. A few exposés of limited scope had been published in the 1960’s, most notably The Invisible Government by David Wise and Thomas Ross.[1] Ramparts magazine also published some important articles on the CIA in the 1960’s but, to put it mildly, Ramparts was an outlier in the US media landscape.

    It wasn’t until the 1970’s that a fuller picture of the clandestine state began to emerge, thanks to the work of people like Daniel Ellsberg, Fletcher Prouty, Phil Agee, Victor Marchetti, Alfred McCoy, and Peter Scott. In terms of Garrison and the “Time and Propinquity” ideas that Curtis ridicules, the work of Scott is quite relevant. Writing about obscured intrigues related to the Vietnam War, covert operations in the Third World, mafia-intelligence nexuses, and the assassinations of the 1960’s, Scott came to realize that the existing methods of journalists, historians, and social scientists were insufficient in terms of being able to elucidate realities shaped by powerful clandestine actors. He coined the term parapolitics to describe “a system or practice of politics in which accountability is consciously diminished.”[2]

    In the course of Garrison’s investigation, he wrote many memos to his staff. Only a relatively tiny number of them were related to “Time and Propinquity.” The overwhelming vast majority of his inquiry was done through on-the-ground investigation (e.g. going to the Dallas area and trying to interview suspects like Cuban exile Sergio Arcacha Smith). Curtis ignores that fact. Using a technique that originated with the late rightwing pundit Tom Bethell—who betrayed the DA—Curtis ridicules Garrison for these ideas. (Click here for details)

    Garrison was merely trying to offer a strategy that might allow his office to do something heretofore not encountered—the successful prosecution of state actors whose crimes are supported by huge budgets, secrecy, and a license to covertly break laws in the name of national security. In fact, to bear this out, Garrison once wrote a memorandum to House Select Committee attorney Jon Blackmer about solving the JFK case. He said you could not solve this crime in the usual manner that felony investigations use (i.e. fingerprints, written records used as alibis, etc.). That would not work, because the JFK assassination was designed as a clandestine action.

    What should be done if—as Garrison ascertained—politico-economic elites, clandestine state actors and insiders can veto the will of the public by assassinating a democratically elected head of state? What if, additionally, it becomes clear that the national media and academia are under the hegemonic sway of the same elite of power, and thus cannot act institutionally as the democratic checks described in liberal political theory? Ultimately, Curtis can offer no alternative to parapolitical research or Garrison’s foray into the realm.

    In the face of this, Curtis instead blithely asserts:

    Thornley was right that most of what Garrison alleged was complete fantasy. Despite all the patterns, he could produce no evidence of a hidden conspiracy.

    If the reader can believe it, this is Curtis’ last word on Garrison. He does not mention that Garrison had convinced the jury at the Clay Shaw trial that the assassination was the result of a conspiracy. That was accomplished through one exhibit and two key witnesses. The witnesses were Dr. John Nichols for the prosecution and the second was the devastating cross examination of defense witness and Kennedy pathologist Dr. Pierre Finck. The exhibit was the Zapruder film, which Nichols’ used to convincingly demonstrate a shot came from the front. This showed, at the least, that Lee Oswald was not the only assassin firing at Kennedy, which would mean JFK was killed by a conspiracy. So it’s convenient for Curtis to leave it out.

    Garrison also discovered that Oswald had been in New Orleans as an ostensibly pro-Castro activist, but had been working out of the office of Guy Banister—a hard-right, ex-FBI man who ran the Anti-Communist League of the Caribbean, was a member of the fascist “Minutemen” organization, and had been involved in anti-Castro CIA operations like the Bay of Pigs and Operation Mongoose. Given that Oswald’s New Orleans activities only served to discredit the Fair Play for Cuba Committee, the obvious inference would be that Oswald was a pawn in some kind of counterintelligence operation. The Zapruder film was so definitive that when it was finally shown on network television in the 1970’s, public support for the Warren Commission fell to all-time lows.[3]

    Years later it was revealed that Clay Shaw lied on the stand numerous times. (Click here for details) He was also getting considerable support from the CIA during the trial. And, just as Garrison alleged, Shaw had indeed perjured himself when he stated that he had had no relationship to the CIA. Additionally, there is no excuse for Curtis’ failure to mention that the last official word on the JFK case—the HSCA investigation—concluded that the assassination was the result of a “probable conspiracy.” He then also fails to disclose to the audience that the chief counsel of the HSCA eventually signed on to a petition which stated that the culprits were elements of the US national security state.[4]

    Curtis and Conspiracy

    Upon returning to Thornley and Discordianism, CGYOMH details how the group decided to use Playboy magazine to launch “Operation Mindfuck.” They kicked off the operation by submitting a fake letter positing that all the political assassinations in the US were the work of “the [Bavarian] Illuminati.” The Discordians began to spread this notion throughout the pop culture landscape. Thornley, Curtis states, was trying to break the spell of conspiracy theories by exposing the absurdity that a secret society in Bavaria could be covertly ruling the word. Here again, Curtis does not bother to point out that the Discordians were conspiring to discredit conspiracy theorizing. Any explanation of Operation Mindfuck is by definition a conspiracy theory. To acknowledge this truism would entail something that Curtis does not want to admit or explain: that any conspiracy theory—like any no-conspiracy theory—should be judged on its respective merits.

    One of many dispiriting aspects of CGYOMH is that Thornley and Operation Mindfuck are actually interesting subjects whose reexamination could offer fresh insights. The work of the illustrious and iconoclastic Florida State professor Lance DeHaven-Smith is instructive in this regard. By the end of the year 2000, DeHaven-Smith had already enjoyed an accomplished career as a scholar of public administration. However, as the top authority on Florida state politics, he was shocked when George W. Bush’s team was able to steal the 2000 election, committing multiple felonies in the process.[5] This experience radicalized the professor and led him to coin the term state crimes against democracy (SCADs). He defined SCADs as “concerted actions or inactions by government insiders intended to manipulate democratic processes and undermine popular sovereignty.”[6]

    Upon being forced to reassess historical events that he had lived through, DeHaven-Smith came to be alarmed by the strong social and academic norms which served to discourage and stigmatize reasonable suspicions of conspiratorial state criminality. In 2013, he published Conspiracy Theory in America. There he detailed the ways in which powerful actors and institutions have aided and abetted SCADs by stigmatizing those who posit conspiratorial explanations of politically significant events:

    Most Americans will be shocked to learn that the conspiracy-theory label was popularized as a pejorative term by the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) in a propaganda program initiated in 1967. This program was directed at criticisms of the Warren Commission’s report. The propaganda campaign called on media corporations and journalists to criticize “conspiracy theorists” and raise questions about their motives and judgements. The CIA told its contacts that “parts of the conspiracy talk appear to be deliberately generated by Communist propagandists.” In the shadows of McCarthyism and the Cold War, this warning about communist influence was delivered simultaneously to hundreds of well-positioned members of the press in a global CIA propaganda network, infusing the conspiracy theory label with powerfully negative associations.[7]

    DeHaven-Smith refers to this episode as “The CIA’s Conspiracy-Theory Conspiracy.”[8] Given that, as referenced above, the CIA was conspiring in 1967 to use its propaganda assets to manipulate public discourse around conspiracy concepts in the JFK assassination and given that 1968 would see another pair of cataclysmic assassinations of progressive leaders—MLK and RFK—does not the Discordians’ Operation Mindfuck plot dovetail perfectly with the Agency’s goal of stigmatizing conspiracy theorizing around suspicious political events? As we will see, this becomes all the more apparent when one looks at the overwhelming amount of evidence that Kerry Thornley was an intelligence asset involved in creating the legend that made Oswald a suitable designated culprit in the JFK assassination.

     

    III

    At the end of the first episode of CGYOMH, Curtis dismisses the idea of conspiracy in the JFK assassination. Thereby implicitly endorsing the Warren Commission’s conclusion that the president was assassinated for no discernable reason by a “lone nut”; who was subsequently assassinated by a concerned local pimp in a room full of policemen. Curtis invokes the tired JFK trope which explicitly or implicitly posits that since there are so many different wacky JFK conspiracy theories—featuring the KGB, the KKK, J. Edgar Hoover, the mafia, Castro, Nixon, the CIA—none of them can be valid. For those of us who feel that the truth of the JFK assassination is pretty obvious, Curtis is another example of a person who would accept, say, the magic bullet theory, rather than suffer the cognitive dissonance of acknowledging despotic political realities in the nominally “liberal democratic” West.

    Postwar Deep Politics

    Curtis cannot truly grapple with deep politics: “all those political practices and arrangements, deliberate or not, which are usually repressed rather than acknowledged.”[9] This does not set him apart from mainstream historians and political commentators in the West. What is noteworthy about Curtis is that he produces so much work that delves into these areas, while always coming up with tendentious, limited-hangout summations, analysis, and conclusions. If it wasn’t obvious, this is why I chose to title this review “Deep Fake Politics.”

    His intervention into Dallas has already been discussed above. Additionally, he looks into other important episodes as though he is going to reveal something important, while invariably coming up with a narrative that is less than we already know. Or less than we should know were we not so propagandized and beguiled by our Western sense-making institutions. For example, Curtis states that some radicals in the West believed that the Nazi system was hiding behind the liberal façade. This is an important and fascinating issue. To what extent did key figures and institutions from the defeated Axis powers continue to exist postwar, in some form or another? We know that the US made use of notorious Nazis like Klaus Barbie, Reinhardt Gehlen, and Otto Skorzeny—as well as Nazi scientists like Wernher von Braun.

    Furthermore, the German economic elites of the Nazi era were also allowed to retain power and wealth in the postwar system. The Nazis were brought to power by an elite group of German industrialists, whose cartel system gave them control over the commanding heights of the German economy. After the war, James Stewart Martin was the director of the Division for Investigation of Cartels and External Assets in American Military Government. In that position, he was charged with breaking up the Nazi cartel system and investigating its ties to Wall Street. His efforts were undermined by his superior officer, a man who had been an investment banker before the war. Stewart chronicled these events in a book published in 1950, concluding that “we had not been stopped in Germany by German business. We had been stopped in Germany by American business.”[10] Curtis chooses not to explore this issue deeply, leaving the impression that those who detect any semblance of Nazism under postwar US hegemony are fringe radicals or idealists, certainly not sober observers offering a historically grounded assessment. In postwar Japan, the situation was also similar. The US made use of sinister war criminals like Yoshio Kodama and largely preserved the Japanese elites who presided over the massive zaibatsu corporate conglomerates. I recall that in one interview, the illustrious Japan expert Chalmers Johnson made a quip about the Sony Walkman in the 1980’s, “From the people who brought you Pearl Harbor.”

    The Pivotal 1970’s

    In episode three, Curtis looks at Watergate and the tumultuous, poorly understood 1970’s. He describes Nixon as a paranoid man, obsessed with perceived enemies. He describes Nixon as having come to power thanks to the “silent majority” of Americans who felt isolated and alone. In other words, there is no mention of two crucial political crimes: the assassination of Senator Robert Kennedy and the 1968 “October counter-surprise,” in which candidate Nixon sabotaged peace talks in Paris that could have ended the war before the 1968 election. (Click here for details)

    Robert Kennedy was planning to reinvestigate his brother’s assassination, believing—as did Jim Garrison—that JFK was murdered as the result of a conspiracy involving elements of the national security state, the Mafia, and Cuban exiles. This merits no mention from Curtis. Instead, Nixon and other Americans of the time were just feeling less connected and more paranoid, because of Vietnam. We are told about Nixon’s paranoia about the liberal establishment and his enemies list. His taping system recorded his paranoia. The president became obsessed with trying to destroy his “imaginary enemies.” To that end, Richard Nixon—one “of the most powerful people in the world”—kicked off a White House conspiracy that involved using ex-intelligence agents to crush his opponents. The Plumbers’ activities would expose Nixon’s criminality in the Watergate scandal. Says Curtis, “[I]n its wake, all kinds of other revelations came out—of dark secrets in the political world that had been kept hidden from the people…For twenty years, the CIA had been planning assassinations and overthrowing leaders of foreign governments all around the world using poisons and specially made secret weapons.”

    IV

    To say that this is an elision is not nearly strong enough. It makes one ask: Adam, what did you read in preparation?

     Nixon’s enemies were hardly imaginary. They were not confined to any “liberal establishment.” Nixon was being spied on by a cabal of right-wing Pentagon officials who were eventually caught red-handed. This is called the Moorer/Radford affair. (Click here for details) Further, as the late Robert Parry demonstrated, the origins of the Plumbers Unit was not over the release of the Pentagon Papers, as previously imagined. It was over the Lyndon Johnson/Walt Rostow memo exposing the 1968 October Surprise by Nixon and Claire Chennault. (Click here for details) It is really hard to fathom how Curtis missed these key historical points.

    Perhaps more significantly, Nixon could not get the CIA to cooperate with him in a number of key areas, including the president’s attempts to obtain all the CIA files which might explain the JFK assassination and the Bay of Pigs operation. (Click here for details)

    Nixon eventually fired Dick Helms, the director of the CIA, and ordered his successor, the outsider James Schlesinger, to compile all information about CIA crimes. He took these actions, in part, because he believed that the CIA was somehow involved in the Watergate scandal. There were good reasons for his suspicions. Two key Watergate figures—James McCord and E. Howard Hunt—were “former” CIA officers, were politically to Nixon’s right, and were so operationally incompetent that many suspect that they intentionally bungled their crimes as part of an operation to damage or gain control over the president.[11]

    The report of the CIA’s violations came to be known the “Family Jewels” and some of its contents were leaked to the press. These revelations, plus Watergate, eventually gave rise to two congressional investigations of the intelligence community. It is important to note that these leaks about Nixon, and about Nixon’s adversaries like the CIA, were part of what can be described as an Establishment civil war. To say that Nixon was merely paranoid about his liberal enemies is to greatly distort this history. Furthermore, such an explanation cannot explain how the ouster of Nixon led to the US lurching far to the right politically. Both major parties became more conservative. The liberalism of the Kennedys was excised from the political power structure. The Republicans became a Reaganite party and the Democrats adopted positions that had previously been associated with Rockefeller Republicanism, cultural politics notwithstanding.[12]

    Thornley: Conspiracist or Conspirator?

    Years after launching Operation Mindfuck, Thornley says he saw E. Howard Hunt’s photo after his Watergate arrest. He now recognized Hunt from his New Orleans days, when he also knew Oswald (although he was very reluctant to admit this, and one could argue he did not).

    And then, strangely, Thornley also recalled how he had known Guy Bannister and Clay Shaw, suspects in Jim Garrison’s investigation. Previously, Thornley had disregarded these matters. Suddenly, says Thornley, “I could not explain all these weird coincidences.” While the Operation Mindfuck hoax/operation promulgated an Illuminati meta-conspiracy theory, these bogus theories were getting mixed up with real world intrigues like CIA mind control and other scandals. Says Curtis, “The line between the reality of political corruption and a dream world of conspiracy theories started to get blurred in America.” Kerry Thornley, Curtis suggests, became swept up in this paranoid thinking. Thornley came to believe that the CIA had somehow manipulated him into setting up Operation Mindfuck, but he didn’t know how. Says Curtis, “Thornley had retreated into a dream world of conspiracy.”

    V

    For viewers not steeped in the JFK assassination, Curtis’ depiction of Thornley would not raise much suspicion. He would seem like a wacky and unlucky character, who wound up facing some troubles because of a bizarre set of coincidences. However, Curtis leaves out a tremendous amount of material that complicates matters considerably. Let us fill in what Adam Curtis could not find out about Kerry Thornley.

    For one thing, Thornley was an extreme right-winger and Kennedy hater. He was a devotee of Ayn Rand,[13] but his politics were even more reactionary than mere libertarianism. He had been a strong supporter of the Belgian scheme to recolonize Congo by creating a breakaway state in the resource rich province of Katanga. This was a vicious plan that was ultimately thwarted by President Kennedy after the assassination of Patrice Lumumba and the death—likely the assassination—of UN Secretary General Dag Hammarskjold. Thornley cited Katanga as one of the main reasons he hated Kennedy. When Kennedy was killed, Kerry couldn’t help himself: he began singing while at his restaurant job. He later urinated on Kennedy’s grave. In a 1992 interview for the television program A Current Affair, Thornley stated about Kennedy, “I would have stood there with a rifle and pulled the trigger if I would have had the chance.” Summing up Thornley’s politics, Jim DiEugenio writes, “What kind of person would celebrate the murder of Kennedy and the victory of colonial forces seeking to exploit both the native population and vast mineral wealth of Congo? […] I would call those kinds of people fascists.”[14]

    There are more key facts and events that Curtis omits from his tale. The Thornley and Hill move to New Orleans in February 1961 has never been adequately explained. It strains credulity to think that it was in response to a cop accusing the pair of loitering. New Orleans at that time was quite a place for a budding fascist to be. Right at the time of their arrival, preparations for the Bay of Pigs invasion were ramping up. Ultra-rightists and Garrison suspects like David Ferrie and Guy Bannister were involved in these operations, conducted at locales such as the Belle Chase naval air station and Banister’s 544 Camp Street office.[15] Upon arriving in New Orleans, Thornley began associating with these hard-right, CIA connected circles. When Garrison’s office questioned Kerry Thornley in 1968, he denied that he knew Guy Banister, David Ferrie, or Clay Shaw. However, in the mid-1970’s, when the HSCA investigation was about to begin, Thornley admitted that, in fact, he had known all of these characters. Furthermore, when his book on Oswald, The Idle Warriors, finally got published in 1991, Thornley admitted in the book’s introduction that he showed the manuscript to Guy Banister back in 1961.[16]

    Just prior to Thornley’s arrival in New Orleans, Banister was linked to a shocking incident. The Friends of Democratic Cuba (FDC) was a CIA/FBI shell company. Guy Bannister was one of its incorporators, and two other FDC members at times operated out of Guy Bannister’s 544 Camp Street office. In late January 1961, two men walked into a Ford Truck dealership claiming to be members of the FDC. They were looking to buy ten Ford Econoline vans. The man who did the negotiating was Joseph Moore, but he wanted his colleague to co-sign. The man co-signed simply as “Oswald” and told the dealer that his name was Lee.[17]

    It is hard to take seriously any non-conspiratorial explanation of these events. Thornley decided to write a novel based on a not-especially-interesting marine who defected to the Soviet Union. While this hapless Marxist was in Russia, some CIA assets were impersonating this wayward young marine while conducting FDC/agency business. Then Thornley whimsically decided to show up in New Orleans, where he happens to meet Guy Banister—one of the figures involved in creating the FDC. So, he shows Banister the novel he has written about Oswald, the same guy that Bannister’s FDC associates are impersonating. And apparently Adam Curtis doesn’t bat an eyelash.

    In testimony before the New Orleans grand jury, Thornley denied that he had associated with Oswald during Oswald’s time in New Orleans. This was implausible given that they had known each other in the Marines, that Thornley had written a novel about Oswald, and that the two men knew many of the same people and frequented the same places. In fact, Garrison had at least eight witnesses who had seen Thornley and Oswald together during that summer. Two of these witnesses stated that Thornley had told them that Oswald was, in fact, not a communist. Garrison had a witness who said that she, “her husband, and a number of people who live in that neighborhood saw Thornley at the Oswald residence a number of times—in fact they saw him there so much they did not know which was the husband, Oswald or Thornley.”[18]

    In that 1963 summer in New Orleans, Oswald was famously arrested while passing out Fair Play for Cuba Committee (FPCC) leaflets. The New Orleans Secret Service investigated this incident and eventually looked into the company that printed the FPCC leaflets.[19] In Never Again, researcher Harold Weisberg wrote that,

    [When] the Secret Service was on the verge of learning, as I later learned, that it was not Oswald who picked up those handbills, the New Orleans FBI at once contacted the FBI HQ and immediately the Secret Service was ordered to desist. For all practical purposes, that ended the Secret Service probe—the moment it was about to explode the myth of the “loner” who had an associate who picked up a print job for him.[20]

    As an investigator for Garrison, Weisberg interviewed two of those print shop employees. They identified Thornley, not Oswald, as the person who picked up the FPCC flyers. When Weisberg told Garrison investigator Lou Ivon about this, Bill Boxley—a CIA infiltrator in Garrison’s office—tried to distort and downplay the significance of the event. However, Weisberg had surreptitiously recorded one of those interviews and the recording served to quiet Boxley. Unfortunately, the tape—like many of Garrison’s files—soon disappeared.[21]

    Thornley also denied to the Garrison team that he knew Carlos Bringuier and Ed Butler. Bringuier was part of the CIA-backed Directorio Revolucionario Estudantil (DRE) and Butler ran Alton Ochsner’s CIA-backed Information Council of the Americas (INCA). Thornley did eventually admit that he knew both of these men.[22] Butler and Bringuier were both involved with Oswald in an infamous radio debate. This followed Oswald’s arrest after a confrontation with Bringuier, during his strange FPCC leafleting spectacle. In the radio debate, it was revealed that Oswald was a Marxist who had previously defected to the Soviet Union. This served to discredit the FPCC by associating it with communism and the Soviet Union. As many people have noted, this seems to have been the objective that Oswald believed he was furthering—some sort of psychological operation for propaganda purposes. If there were any doubt about this, it should be dispelled by the fact that the flyers were stamped with Guy Banister’s 544 Camp Street address.

    VI

    In summary, Thornley, Bringuier, and Butler were all instrumental in creating the evolving Oswald legend. Thornley first did so by depicting Oswald in The Idle Warriors as a communist malcontent in the Marines. Then he furthered Oswald’s legendary persona through his and his associates’ activities in New Orleans. If Weisberg is correct, this may have included assisting Oswald in his FPCC leafleting spectacle. That playlet got Oswald arrested and led to the infamous radio interview with Butler and Bringuier. On the day of the assassination, the CIA—via Bringuier’s DRE—quickly formulated the first JFK conspiracy theory: that Oswald was in some way an agent of Castro’s Cuba.

    Less than 24 hours after the assassination, conservative Senator Thomas Dodd had Butler brought to Washington, so the propagandist could offer congressional testimony about Oswald. Thornley, who referred to the assassination as “good news,” was interviewed by the Secret Service 36 hours after the assassination and by the FBI a day later. Just days after the assassination, Thornley abruptly left New Orleans with ten days of rent left on his apartment. He went to Arlington, Virginia and was eventually called to testify to the Warren Commission. Conforming to the new cover story of Oswald as a discontented lone nut, Thornley’s testimony offered lots of psychology analysis that would never have been admissible in court. However, this sort of testimony suited the Warren Commission perfectly well.[23]

    Years after the Warren Report was issued, Thornley—as mentioned above—went on to perjure himself before a grand jury in New Orleans about not knowing or meeting Oswald during that brief but spectacular summer in New Orleans. At one point, Thornley agreed to meet with a Garrison investigator, but only if the meeting were held at NASA. Given Thornley’s low status in conventional terms, it is hard to understand how he could command entry to such a location. NASA also happened to be the place where several of Oswald’s former co-workers at the CIA-connected Reily Coffee Company would later find employment. The task of locating Thornley in the first place was also a challenge for Garrison’s staff. Eventually, it was discovered that he was in Florida. Thornley, who since leaving the military had only held jobs as a waiter and a doorman, had two homes—one in Tampa and one in Miami.[24]

    Following the Garrison investigation, Thornley faded from notoriety. He only reemerged in the mid-1970’s at around the time that the HSCA began reinvestigating the JFK assassination. At this point, Kerry reappeared as some kind of iconoclastic, hippie burnout—albeit one with ultra-rightist politics. Suddenly, Thornley did a complete reversal on the question of conspiracy. He admitted knowing many of the targets of Garrison’s investigation. He even sent Garrison a long manuscript which detailed his strange version of a plot behind Dallas.[25] This document is but one of the elaborate disinformation ruses that Garrison received at different times. Two other infamous and more elaborate examples were the manuscripts Nomenclature of Assassination Cabal and Farewell America.

    Though Thornley at this point admitted knowing Ferrie and Bannister, and even E. Howard Hunt, he claimed that these were not the real conspirators. Absurdly, Thornley was then asserting that the actual plotters were characters known as Slim, Clint, Brother-in-law, and Gary Kirstein.[26] Kerry said he later figured out that two of these men were Hunt and Minuteman Jerry Milton Brooks under pseudonyms. This is but one example of how the HSCA, like the Garrison investigation, was beset by disinformation agents. Besides Thornley, figures like Marita Lorenz and Claire Booth Luce led HSCA investigators on many pointless diversions.[27] John Newman has recently argued that Antonio Veciana was doing something similar to HSCA investigator Gaeton Fonzi by exaggerating the importance of David Atlee Phillips and by distracting from the relationship between army intelligence and Veciana’s Alpha 66 unit.[28]

    Conclusion

    Thornley’s activities, and his perjury about them, are completely bizarre and inexplicable, unless one posits that he is a low-level intelligence operative. When one looks at these episodes with that possibility in mind, all the otherwise ridiculous episodes are quite logical. The same holds true for Thornley’s famous friend, Lee Harvey Oswald. In Oswald’s case, his Marine discharge, defection, repatriation, Dallas associations, New Orleans escapades, Mexico adventures, and behavior during his last days are all impossibly weird—unless and until the intelligence angle is examined. Unfortunately, this is how we must approach facts and evidence in para-political contexts. The Warren Commission’s official story, and Thornley’s key role in creating that transparent myth—he is quoted three times in the Warren Report to characterize Oswald—simply collapses under this kind of analysis.

     The JFK assassination should be recognized as a state crime against democracy in the context of America’s deep political system. Such an understanding points to the existence of a despotic, exceptionalist state that can exercise veto power over democracy. Unsurprisingly, this is not a perspective that Curtis and the BBC would look to promote. Predictably, CGYOMH opts to ridicule and dismiss Garrison and critics of the Establishment’s JFK assassination theory[29]—the theory of the lone nut who gets killed by another lone nut, i.e. the dual nut theory.

    All of this is not to say that Garrison was beyond reproach. He should not have been so trusting with the volunteers he allowed to work on the case. He should have indicted Ferrie sooner, lest his main suspect succumb to a deadly brain aneurysm whilst sitting on the couch looking at two typed, unsigned suicide letters. Furthermore, given all the things that have come out about Kerry Thornley, Garrison arguably should have sought to prosecute him rather than Clay Shaw. One reason to argue that Garrison should have gone after Thornley for conspiracy to commit murder comes from Thornley himself. Said Kerry Thornley, “Garrison, you should have gone after me for conspiracy to commit murder.”[30] Admittedly, Thornley was positing a contrived hoax, but even this JFK disinformation is of a piece with his prior roles in Oswald’s framing and in the cover-up after the fact.

    For Curtis to omit so many crucial facts about the JFK assassination, about Kerry Thornley, and about Garrison’s case is useful to his cause. It allows him to ignore the history-making interventions of the deep state and the extent to which these interventions have helped bring about the political nadir that America is experiencing. Curtis’ obscurantism allows him to downplay American state criminality as merely “political corruption”: the regrettable result of various technocratic bureaucrats holding and acting on bad ideas while trying to impose order on a chaotic and unpredictable world. He omits, distorts, and cherry picks facts to present his interminable exploration of our current dystopia. In so doing, CGYOMH obscures what may be the most salient historical development of the postwar US-led world order—the criminalization of the state.

    In Part 3, I will examine (1) how Curtis fails to reckon with the nature of the state in the West, (2) how this precludes him from grappling with the realities of US foreign policy, and (3) how this dovetails with his tendentious and chauvinistic depictions of the chief US rivals, Russia and China.

    Postscript:

    Adam Curtis apparently never looked at this article which demolishes his entire view of both Thornely and Garrison. (Click here for details)

    see Deep Fake Politics (Part 1): Getting Adam Curtis Out of Your Head

    see Deep Fake Politics (Part 3): Empire and the Criminalization of the State


    [1] David Wise and Thomas B. Ross, The Invisible Government (New York, NY: Random House, 1964).

    [2] Peter Dale Scott, The War Conspiracy (New York, NY: Bobbs Merrill, 1972).

    [3] Kathryn Olmsted, Challenging the Secret Government: The Post-Watergate Investigations of the CIA and FBI (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1996), p. 99.

    [4] M.D. Gary Aguilar et al., “A Joint Statement on the Kennedy, King, and Malcolm X Assassinations and Ongoing Cover-Ups,” The Truth and Reconciliation Committee, 2019.

    [5] See: Lance DeHaven-Smith, ed., The Battle for Florida: An Annotated Compendium of Materials from the 2000 Presidential Election (Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida, 2005).

    [6] Lance deHaven-Smith, “Beyond Conspiracy Theory: Patterns of High Crime in American Government,” American Behavioral Scientist 53, no. 6 (February 16, 2010): pp. 795–825.

    [7] Lance DeHaven-Smith, Conspiracy Theory in America (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 2013), p. 20.

    [8] DeHaven-Smith, Conspiracy Theory in America, p. 20.

    [9] Peter Dale Scott, Deep Politics and the Death of JFK (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1993), p. 7.

    [10] James Stewart Martin, All Honorable Men: The Story of the Men on Both Sides of the Atlantic Who Successfully Thwarted Plans to Dismantle the Nazi Cartel System, ed. Mark Crispin Miller, vol. 21, Forbidden Bookshelf (New York, NY: Open Road Media, 2016).

    [11] See: Jim Hougan, Secret Agenda: Watergate, Deep Throat, and the CIA (New York, NY: Random House, 1984).

    [12] For a longer discussion of this, see: Aaron Good, American Exception: Empire and the Deep State (New York, NY: Skyhorse Publishing, 2022).

    [13] James DiEugenio, “Kerry Thornley: A New Look (Part 1),” Kennedys and King, June 13, 2020.

    [14] James DiEugenio, “Kerry Thornley: A New Look (Part 2),” Kennedys and King, June 14, 2020.

    [15] DiEugenio, “Kerry Thornley: A New Look (Part 1).”

    [16] James DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed: JFK, Cuba, and the Garrison Case, 2nd ed. (New York, NY: Skyhorse Publishing, 2012), p. 189.

    [17] DiEugenio, “Kerry Thornley: A New Look (Part 1).”

    [18] DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed: JFK, Cuba, and the Garrison Case, p. 189.

    [19] DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed: JFK, Cuba, and the Garrison Case, p. 190.

    [20] Quoted in: DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed: JFK, Cuba, and the Garrison Case, p. 190.

    [21] DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed: JFK, Cuba, and the Garrison Case, p. 190.

    [22] DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed: JFK, Cuba, and the Garrison Case, p. 191.

    [23] DiEugenio, “Kerry Thornley: A New Look (Part 1).”

    [24] DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed: JFK, Cuba, and the Garrison Case, p. 191.

    [25] DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed: JFK, Cuba, and the Garrison Case, pp. 191-192.

    [26] DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed: JFK, Cuba, and the Garrison Case, p. 192.

    [27] See: Gaeton Fonzi, The Last Investigation (New York, NY: Thunder’s Mouth Press, 1993).

    [28] See: John M. Newman, “Antonio Veciana, Mystery Man in JFK Assassination, Part 1,” Who. What. Why., February 5, 2019.

    [29] I write “Establishment’s” because the final official word on the assassination remains the HSCA conclusion of a “probable conspiracy.” Given this fact, it is telling that the dominant media still defends the Warren Commission—a body whose work was found inadequate—first by the Church Committee and then by the HSCA Congressional investigation.

    [30] DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed: JFK, Cuba, and the Garrison Case, p. 192.

  • Who Killed Malcolm X? (Review)

    Who Killed Malcolm X? (Review)


    On February 9, 1965, less than two weeks before he was murdered, Malcolm X was prevented from entering France. Police met him at the airport and denied him entrance into the country, forcing him to fly back to England where he had been speaking.

    This was not because the French government was afraid of Malcolm X.

    It was because Charles De Gaulle, the French President, was worried that the CIA would kill Malcolm while he was in the country and France would get the blame. As reported by Jim Douglass in his excellent essay, “The Murder and Martydom of Malcolm X,” the reasoning was revealed by a North African diplomat to journalist Eric Norden a couple of months later. “Your CIA is beginning to murder its own citizens now,” the diplomat said.[1]

    That story, and a great many other things, have been left out of streaming giant Netflix’s new six-part documentary Who Killed Malcolm X? In theory, this should be the kind of thing we should cheer about: For an estimated cost of $1.2 million, featuring a terrific theme song and fine craftsmanship behind the camera, the documentary has made such a splash that there is talk it may actually reopen the case. Great, right? Let’s light up cigars. Especially since, unlike the “other” major assassinations of the 1960s—JFK, MLK, and RFK—there is a substantial lack of mainstream interest. Most people, if they know anything at all about the man, assume that he was a violent man reaching a violent end, no more worthy of interest than intra-gang or mob warfare. (I have found this to be true even among political researchers, who also often demonstrate no interest in the COINTELPRO war against the Black Panthers.) If Who Killed Malcolm X? can get a more mainstream audience to pay attention to Malcolm’s story, this is terrific news.

    Unfortunately, this series falls short in most other aspects.

    So the first thing that seemed strange is that it lacks any major scholars who have dealt with Malcolm X in a comprehensive way. If somebody gave me money to make a documentary on Malcolm X, the first thing I’d want to do is make sure we get Karl Evanzz. And Baba Zak Kondo. And Dr. Jared Ball. And the aforementioned Jim Douglass. For starters. This series only features Zak Kondo. Now the filmmakers do get a number of folks—eyewitnesses and people on the ground—who are fascinating in the stories they have to tell, but the documentary doesn’t have any input from anyone who could put these stories into a bigger picture. Which is because, for whatever reason, the directors Phil Bertelsen and Rachel Dretzin choose to frame everything around the investigation of one man: Abdur-Rahman Muhammad.

    Abdur-Rahman Muhammad tells us right out that he is just a regular guy, an average person who took an interest in the case and studied it for thirty years. The case never sat right with him and he was determined to get at the truth. So this series makes out Muhammad to be their Jim Garrison. Which is a fair enough approach, all things considered. And one thing he is good at is getting people to go on-camera. His status as someone from the neighborhood, as well as his Muslim faith, gives him an edge to anyone else trying to do the man-on-the-street investigation he tries to do. However, what Muhammad does throughout the series, over and over through six parts, is continually tease the uncovering of the TRUTH, just around the next corner. This leads one to believe that the sixth part in this series will be a humdinger, the thing that will develop all the various themes into a strong finish. It doesn’t, but it will take a little explanation to understand why.

    For the first episode I was willing to go along with the ride. It seemed like it was at least citing some of the major aspects of the case. However, somewhere through the course of the second episode, it began to dawn on me that this was going nowhere. Part of this is a question of emphasis, but unfortunately there is a large element of omission.

    MALCOLM X IN HISTORY

    The story of Malcolm X and his assassination requires some knowledge of his background and the background of black civil rights. To begin at the beginning, Malcolm Little was born in Omaha, Nebraska, in 1925. His father was murdered by white supremacists—the Klu Klux Klan. His father, a preacher, had been a supporter of Marcus Garvey. This is an important point, because the Garveyites were separationists. Garvey created the ‘Black Star Line,’ which was supposed to transport black people back to Africa. Garvey had given up on assimilation; in his eyes, only a return to the Homeland could make African Americans come back into their own dignity, as equals with one another. For a variety of reasons, the Black Star Line never worked—one of the principal ones being that the ships were often barely usable, and Garvey eventually lost his grip on reality.[2] It is ultimately a tragic story.

    It’s also an incredibly important story, not the least of which because it underlines the two main approaches that would be taken over the course of the century—one line essentially assimilationist and another separationist. On the assimilationist side was Garvey’s rival W. E. B. DuBois, the first black man to graduate from Harvard with a doctorate. DuBois proffered a theory of the “talented tenth,” the idea that black political equality and civil rights would be gained through the achievements of the best and brightest among the people. It was the sort of theory one might expect from a man with a Harvard doctorate and one unlikely to ever win mass popular support. (DuBois was a strong proponent of the “great man” theory of history, writing short profiles of men he felt were especially important. This included Abraham Lincoln and Joseph Stalin.)

    On the separationist side, Garvey founded the United Negro Improvement Association (UNIA), an organization which—following the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917—grew large enough to attract the attention of a 22-year-old J. Edgar Hoover. Under President Woodrow Wilson, at the direction of John Lord O’Brian, Hoover went to work for the Alien Enemy Bureau. As would become a repeated pattern through the years, government agents were sent to infiltrate UNIA and retrieve intelligence. By 1919, Hoover himself grew to be the head of the General Intelligence Division of the Bureau of Investigation.[3] The next year he joined the Federal Lodge No. 1 in Washington, D.C. and by 1924 he was director—at the age of 29. That is to say, Hoover’s personal history mirrors the rise of black civil rights movements of the 20th century and his first connection with it was conflated with Communism and anti-Americanism.

    Returning to Malcolm, he would wind up in prison in 1946. As related in his classic autobiography, as “told to” Alex Haley, he met a man called John Bembry in prison who converted him to the Nation of Islam (NOI). He became an American Muslim. This is not the same thing as mainstream Muslim faith, but a peculiar strain of Islam with somewhat tenuous connections to other strains.

    Malcolm Little became Malcolm X, disposing of his “slave name.” The NOI, led by the Honorable Elijah Muhammad, dictated that adherents get rid of their surnames since they had nothing to do with their origins but rather served as a kind of American costume. It was no accident that so many American founder names grew to become stereotypically “black” names—Jefferson, Washington, Franklin, and the like. It is natural to bestow a name of distinction on oneself, lacking other options; however, in the case of black Americans, this state of affairs did not emerge from an adoption but from a kidnapping.

    THE DOCUMENTARY

    This is roughly the point at which the documentary begins. It details the rise of Malcolm X as a public figure from the late 1950s to his ultimate murder in 1965. Malcolm, later Malik El-Shabazz, gave everything to the Nation of Islam and received everything in return—his home, his wife, his place in the community.  However, Malcolm became so popular that he eventually posed a threat to Elijah Muhammad and his sons and they broke with one another. Eventually, there were threats and actual violence as Malcolm revealed that Elijah Muhammad had slept with several of his young secretaries and fathered children with them. This revelation had little effect on his believers, except to galvanize their opposition to Malcolm.

    And it’s this internal Muslim conflict that drives the film. In interview after interview shown in the documentary, Abdur-Rahman pursues the questions that personally bother him, which involve (for the most part) concerns about the importation of New Jersey mosque members to murder Malcolm. Curiously, however, he does not explore the fact that the current head of the NOI, Louis Farrakhan, has a connection. The former Louis Walcott, Farrakhan wrote and distributed a document which spelled out his feelings following Malcolm’s betrayal of his former master:

    The die is set, and Malcolm shall not escape, especially after such evil, foolish talk about his benefactor (Elijah Muhammad) … Such a man as Malcolm is worthy of death and would have met with death if it had not been for Muhammad’s confidence in Allah for victory over the enemies.[4]

    There is no doubt of a climate of hate surrounding Malcolm with respect to his former associates within the Nation of Islam. However, there was also continual harassment and violence emanating from the police and FBI.

    To take one example, in January of 1958 a pair of detectives working for the NYC police went to Malcolm’s apartment without a warrant to search for a woman called Margaret Dorsey. Malcolm told the detectives he wanted to see a warrant. Instead, the detectives opened fire on the apartment where his pregnant wife was also living. Although they did not hit anyone, this brought home the level of danger surrounding the minister even at this relatively early date.[5]

    However, in addition to these direct assaults, there were plots being developed within the government. CIA Director Richard Helms had made tracking Malcolm a “priority” beginning in 1964.[6] Strikingly, this was three years before the CIA began its own MH/CHAOS program, which was designed to track and destroy left wing and black resistance movements, and which began via the involvement of Helms and another name familiar to JFK researchers: James Jesus Angleton.[7]

    Further plots arose out of COINTELPRO[8], a program designed specifically to overthrow, neutralize, or kill black leaders and replace them with FBI-approved figures. (In other words, to mirror domestically what covert operations had been doing successfully in other countries.) William Sullivan, J. Edgar Hoover’s handpicked assistant for all investigative operations, helmed the project. Sullivan, through COINTELPRO, successfully infiltrated and damaged left-wing movements in the period between 1956 and 1971.

    In 1964, Sullivan circulated a memo proposing that a “new national Negro leader” be selected after first destroying their three main targets: Elijah Muhammad, Malcolm X, and MLK. Sullivan even had an idea for their replacement: a corporate lawyer named Samuel R. Pierce, Jr.[9]

    Later that same year, a rumour circulated that “Black Muslims” were planning to assassinate Lyndon Johnson. According to news reports, Malcolm X was wanted for questioning. Malcolm immediately realized what was going on—and although he had been meeting Alex Haley to discuss his life, he did not want to discuss the Johnson assassination rumor. If ever there was a day to be a little frightened, that would have been the day. He would have realized the scale of the forces aligned against him.

    Karl Evanzz notes that Elijah Muhammad would have understood the meaning as well:

    For Muhammad, the meaning of the report was readily apparent. He knew that the allegations were a fabrication, but he also realized the underlying message: if the FBI leaked a story linking Malcolm X with Lee Harvey Oswald and the Fair Play for Committee, Muhammad would once again find himself in Washington facing the microphones of the House Un-American Activities Commission. Another HUAC probe could land both him and Malcolm X in prison … There was no way he could permit Malcolm X to return to the Nation of Islam.[10]

    Similarly, in July of 1964, Malcolm went to an outdoor restaurant in Cairo. His food tasted strange to him and he realized that he recognized his waiter from having seen him before in New York. He had been poisoned. He was rushed to the hospital, had his stomach pumped, and barely survived. Malcolm of course understood that the Nation of Islam did not have global agents. This had to be a U.S. government operation.[11]

    THE NIGHT OF THE ASSASSINATION

    For the most part, the documentary shows the basic facts of the actual murder of Malcolm X with reasonable fidelity, although once again there are serious omissions. The assassination took place on February 21, 1965, in the Audubon Ballroom in New York City. Malcolm had been invited to give a speech at this location.

    The Audubon consisted of a long hall. Malcolm was on one side on a stage with a podium.

    At the other end of the hall, facing him, was the main entrance to the building. In between some folding chairs had been set up.

    Before the talk begins, as Malcolm arrived at the podium, there was a fake altercation between two men—that drew people’s attention to them. One of the men yelled, “Get your hands out of my pockets!” Meanwhile, a smoke bomb was thrown into the room.

    First, one man with a shotgun ran up to Malcolm and shot him. He then ran out a side door.

    Then, two men with .45 caliber pistols ran up and shot Malcolm some more, while he was on the ground. They fled out the back way, out the main entrance. One of the men who ran out the back was caught by the people outside, who proceeded to beat him almost to death.

    The documentary makes a big deal out of revealing the identity of William X Bradley as the man with the shotgun who murdered Malcolm X. However, this is not a reveal to anyone who followed the case. Also, the fact that he lived in the neighborhood and had been brought up on charges was well known. One of the bright spots in Manning Marable’s book, for all its flaws, is that Marable points out that Bradley appears to have been protected by the government—even years later:

    On April 11, 1968, the Livingston National Bank of Livingston, New Jersey, was robbed by three masked men brandishing three handguns and one sawed-off shotgun. They escaped with over $12,500. The following year Bradley and a second man, James Moore, were charged with the bank robbery and were brought to trial. Bradley, however, received privileged treatment and he retained his own attorney separate from Moore. The charges against him were ultimately dismissed; meanwhile, after a first trial ending in a hung jury, Moore was convicted in a second trial.

    Bradley’s special treatment by the criminal justice system in 1969-1970 raises the question of whether he was an FBI informant, either after the assassination of Malcolm X or very possibly even before. It would perhaps explain why Bradley took a different exit from the murder scene than the two other shooters, shielding him from the crowd’s retaliation. It suggests that Bradley and possibly other Newark mosque members may have actively collaborated on the shooting with local law enforcement and/or the FBI.[12]

    One of the real missed opportunities of the documentary is the stunning interviews with Senator Corey Booker and Lieutenant Governor Sheila Oliver in episode five of the series. The filmmakers spring the news to Booker that Bradley, the alleged assassin of Malcolm X, appeared in one of his campaign videos. When asked whether he knows Bradley, Booker says yes and that he’s a wonderful man in the community. Booker looks shocked and purports not to have ever heard of the fact that Bradley had a connection to Malcolm X.

    Except that in the other interviews in the documentary, individuals repeatedly assert that everyone in the community knows about Bradley. They just choose to “leave it alone.” However, instead of asking any follow up questions, the documentary moves on to other matters. It’s incredible. They just let Booker off the hook as soon as they catch him on it.

    Now, normally there were a lot of police officers when Malcolm X spoke anywhere, but there were none on the day of the assassination. The lack of police presence was notable and the documentary has interviews with witnesses who confirm this. They also describe how lackadaisical the police were in their response afterward to the shooting.

    What is glossed over is the fact that numerous FBI infiltrators were present in the Ballroom that day. One of them, John X. Ali, met with one of the shooters the day before the shooting. Another FBI man, Gene Roberts, was the man who got to the body of Malcolm X before anyone else and attempted CPR to revive him.[13] Meanwhile, Betty Shabazz screamed and tried to get to her husband.

    It is interesting that Roberts was the man who got to Malcolm X first, because it fits a pattern of other assassinations. Three years later, when Dr. Martin Luther King was murdered in Memphis, the first person to get to his body was an FBI informant named Marrell McCullough. McCullough later went on to work for the CIA.[14] Then, in December 1969, when the Black Panther organizer Fred Hampton was murdered by Chicago police, the man who drugged Hampton so he wouldn’t wake up was the BPP treasurer and also, an FBI informant.[15] When the assassinations take place, it seems efforts are made to have the FBI asset confirm the deceased.

    FINAL THOUGHTS

    Malcolm X was killed at about 3 PM.

    That night, the Audubon Ballroom was scheduled to host the George Washington Celebration.

    Instead of canceling the event, the body was removed, the blood cleaned off the floor, and by 7 PM the party went on as scheduled. Four hours after he was killed, people were dancing literally on the spot he died. They danced in honor of George Washington.

    Symbolism doesn’t get any more obvious than that. Or, as Malcolm himself put it: “The job of the Negro civil rights leader is to make the Negro forget that the wolf and the fox both belong to the same family. Both are canines; and no matter which one of them the Negro places his trust in, he never ends up in the White House, but always the doghouse.”[16]

    About a month before he was assassinated, Malcolm met with the poet and activist Amir Baraka. In that meeting, Malcolm proposed that activists needed to concentrate on making “…politically viable a Black united front in the U.S.” As Baraka points out: “This is the opposite of the religious sectarianism of the Nation of Islam. It is an admission that Islam is not the only road to revolutionary consciousness and that Muslims, Christians, Nationalists, and Socialists can be joined together as an anti-imperialist force in the U.S.”.[17]

    Malcolm was opening up in that last year of his life, which terrified the reactionary elements in the U.S. government who arranged his assassination. Any documentary worth its salt has to take that as its starting point and move forward from there, because it is frankly obvious. It also becomes even more obvious when the greater context of the other assassinations, the movements, and the specific government operations for which voluminous documentation exists. The ultimate message of Who Killed Malcolm X? sacrifices clarity and context by treating the assassination like an ordinary murder, chasing individual suspects and missing the underlying political structures. Unfortunately, that means the six hours of this series wind up in disappointment, as for the most part it relies on the most unedifying aspects of the story.

    But perhaps it’s to be expected. It was always unlikely that Netflix was going to bankroll something that really rocks the boat. In fact, we know what happens to people who try. The filmmaker Louis Lomax, in 1968, who originally brought The Hate that Hate Produced to the attention of Mike Wallace in the Fifties, wanted to make a film about Malcolm X. A film in which the intelligence agencies, not the Nation of Islam, would be blamed for the murder. In other words, it was an attempt to make an Executive Action-style film, an extremely radical project.[18]

    The film never got made. The brakes on Louis Lomax’s car stopped functioning one day in July 1970. Lomax died in the resulting crash.[19] That too, alas, is familiar.


    In the wake of the new documentary series, Jared Ball has also registered his dissent with it:

    New Netflix Documentary Avoids the Why in Favor of the “Who Killed Malcolm X?


    [1] DiEugenio, Jim, and Lisa Pease, ed. The Assassinations (Feral House: Los Angeles CA 2003), 404.

    [2] Grant, Colin, “Negro With a Hat: The rise and fall of Marcus Garvey,” The Independent, 10 February 2008.

    [3] Powers, Richard, The Life of J. Edgar Hoover: Secrecy and Power (The Free Press: New York 1987), 50.

    [4] Carson, Clayborne, Malcolm X: The FBI File (Carroll & Graf: New York 1991), 43.

    [5] Evanzz, Karl, The Judas Factor: The Plot to Kill Malcolm X (Thunder’s Mouth Press: New York), 73.

    [6] Randeree, Bilal, “The Malcolm X Story Lives On,” Alajazeera News, 28 April 2010.

    [7] Rafalko, Frank J., MH/CHAOS: The CIA’s Campaign Against the Radical New Left and the Black Panthers (Naval Institute Press: Annapolis, MD 2011), 15.

    [8] COINTELPRO documents

    [9] Evanzz, 172.

    [10] Evanzz, 175.

    [11] DiEugenio and Pease, 396.

    [12] Marable, Manning, Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention (Viking: New York 2011), 475.

    [13] Marable, 439.

    [14] DiEugenio, Jim, “The 13th Juror,” (review).

    [15] Green, Joseph E. “The Open Assassination of Fred Hampton,”

    [16] X, Malcolm, The End of White World Supremacy (Arcade Publishing: New York 2011), 137.

    [17] Baraka, Amir, “Malcolm as Ideology,” Malcolm X in Our Own Image (St. Martin’s Press: New York 1992), 29.

    [18] Canby, Vincent, “Two Studios Plan Malcolm X Films: James Baldwin and Louis Lomax writing scripts,” The New York Times, 8 March 1968.

    [19] Evanzz, 319.

  • Ark Media and Malcolm X:  Bad Acting and Half-Truths

    Ark Media and Malcolm X: Bad Acting and Half-Truths


    If the truth will set us free, a lie will keep us in bondage. If you know the whole truth about something but deliberately withhold part of it, you are no better than a person who creates events out of whole cloth. An old adage is that “a half-truth is the same as a whole lie.”

    Having watched the six-part Netflix series, “Who Killed Malcolm X,” I can say emphatically that the makers of this series are peddling a half-truth even though the whole truth was available to them. As such, the series is more propaganda than inquiry, more deception than honesty.

    Why do I call it a half-truth? Because Ark Media had access to the complete film footage of the scene outside the Audubon Ballroom moments after three members of the Nation of Islam assassinated Malcolm X, a charismatic revolutionary who inspired tens of thousands before his death on February 21, 1965, and who inspires millions across the globe today.

    They had access to the complete footage, but they only revealed half of it. They show the footage of two of the assassins—Talmadge Hayer and William Bradley—fighting with police and spectators, but they deliberately suppressed footage of the third assassin—Norman 3X Butler—wrestling his way through the crowd as the body of Malcolm X is wheeled from the Audubon to the Columbia Presbyterian Hospital across the street.

    There are a host of problems with the series, but the major offenses and omissions are these:

    • They minimize the role of the intelligence agencies in orchestrating the assassination. There is, for example, only one reference to the State Department’s hostility toward Malcolm X, but they don’t show a single document to substantiate it.
    • They fail to make a single reference to the CIA’s spying on Malcolm X while he was in Africa, and they make no mention of Benjamin H. Read, a White House official, telling CIA Director Richard Helms in the spring of 1964 that Malcolm was damaging America’s foreign policy in the Third World and should be “dealt with” the way the CIA dealt with other foreign leaders who cause problems for America.  This information is in the declassified CIA documents on Malcolm X and is readily available.
    • Instead, the entire series is aimed at convincing viewers that Malcolm X was killed by a group of five Black Muslims from the Newark mosque who were acting independently of any leaders of the sect.
    • To buttress this argument, nearly all of the NOI members interviewed are from Newark. There were no interviews with members from Philadelphia, Chicago, or even Harlem, an inexcusable omission.
    • While there is a brief mention of a mandatory meeting of officers in the NOI’s Fruit of Islam group called by Elijah Muhammad Jr., during which he ordered them to kill Malcolm X, there is no mention that Junior added an extra incentive of $10,000 to the person who killed Malcolm.
    • The central premise of the series is that two of the three men convicted for murdering Malcolm X were innocent. While it succeeds in establishing the innocence of Johnson through eyewitness accounts and FBI documents, they fail to show any reliable evidence whatsoever to support Butler’s claim of innocence.
    • They give the false impression that Abdur-Rahman Muhammad is this brave, defiant soldier hell-bent on confronting William Bradley, the shotgun assassin of Malcolm X, but Bradley died before he could do so. This is, of course, utterly ridiculous. Rahman wrote on his blog on April 22, 2010, that he had discovered Bradley’s whereabouts.

    Bradley didn’t pass until October 2018. By then, Ark Media was a full ten months into the project. If Rahman had eight years to confront Bradley, to give the impression that he didn’t locate Bradley until shortly before the latter’s death is dishonest, one of many half-truths in the series.

    The Bradley confrontation hoax is one of many.  Another half-truth is Rahman’s account of how he discovered Bradley’s whereabouts. He claims now that he was visiting a mosque and asked about Bradley when someone gave him Bradley’s new name, Al-Mustafa Shabazz.

    This is at odds with what Rahman told me and other researchers in 2010, when he said that he was the Howard University classmate of the nephew of a prominent NOI official whose name has surfaced repeatedly in relation to the assassination. The nephew was the person who led him to Bradley.

    Here are some of the key problems with the series, episode by episode. I refer to them as “acts” because the series is more theater than documentary.

    Act One

    Rahman begins that he was bothered that no one seemed interested in discovering who killed Malcolm X, and that he spent 30 years wondering “why someone doesn’t want to get to the bottom of this.”

    Rahman knows Professor Zak Kondo of Baltimore and apparently has read his book on the assassination. He began emailing me in 2010 and expressed familiarity with my books, one of which focuses on the assassination. Since Kondo’s book was published in 1993 and mine in 1992, he knows full well that people have tried to solve the question of who actually killed Malcolm X.  Moreover, Newsweek writer Peter Goldman wrote one of the first in-depth accounts of the assassination in 1973, when Rahman was a nine-year-old named Kenneth Oliveira living in Providence, Rhode Island.

    David Garrow: This brings us to the next problem. David Garrow, a white writer who has written a book in which he called Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. a “sexual athlete” (based solely on his opinion, of course), followed by other salacious statements about Dr. King. Garrow’s career has been in the toilet of late, especially after writing a disreputable, overly long biography of President Barack Obama (based almost exclusively on the views of a white girl who dated Obama a hundred years ago, so to speak). His descent into disreputability continued last year when he claimed that Dr. King laughed while one of his associates raped a prostitute.

    “No one alive has done more” than Rahman to solve the riddle of the assassination, Garrow claims.  Even though Rahman claims to have been investigating the assassination for thirty years, he has not in all that time published a single book about his findings. He hasn’t had a single magazine article about his findings. He has blogged for nearly a decade, yet he has never blogged about his findings except to mention that he had located William Bradley.

    So what, Mr. Garrow, has Rahman done to deserve your adulation? There are several university professors in the series, yet none of them express any familiarity with Rahman. I’ll lay you ten-to-one odds that if you had asked any of the professors “Who Is Abdur-Rahman Muhamad?” before April 2010, they would have replied: “I have no idea.”

    This is the first time we hear the theme of the series, namely, that Butler is innocent. Not a single shred of evidence is shown to support this contention.

    Part One ends with the proverbial scene of “The Investigator” (played by Rahman) tacking items about Malcolm X’s assassination to a bulletin board.

    Act Two

    It begins with Rahman arguing that Talmadge Hayer, the assassin caught at the scene, told the jury the truth during the trial but that he was not believed. This is another whopper, one that anyone who has read the trial transcript would recognize. Hayer told so many lies during the early part of the trial that the jury must have thought he was insane.

    Butler wasn’t much better. He was disrespectful to the prosecutor and got caught in a number of misstatements, so much so that he essentially convicted himself. For example, the prosecutor asked Butler whether he ever heard any language besides English in the mosque. Butler became indignant and replied that Muslims were not permitted to speak anything but English in the Nation of Islam.

    The prosecutor then asked him whether “As Salaam Alaikum” was an English phrase. To which Butler replied, “Oh, that’s different” or something to the effect.

    During a break in the trial, Thomas Johnson (whom I interviewed over a span of about five years) said that he, Hayer, and Butler were standing outside the men’s room when he said to them in a stern but calm voice: “Man, y’all are jamming me up. Y’all know I wasn’t there.”

    He was furious at Butler, he said, because Butler “stole my alibi.” He had proof from his physician that he was at home at the time of the assassination sitting in a chair with his right leg propped up due to a circulatory problem.

    When Butler took the stand, he said the same thing. However, when Butler’s doctor was called to testify, he said that he did not see Butler until February 25, four days after the assassination.

    Halfway through the second hour, Garrow is cued again. Apparently, you need a white person to make an argument truly convincing.

    “Historians universally accept that Johnson and Butler are innocent,” he tells us. None of the black historians in the series concurs with this statement during the entire series.

    The rest of the time is spent interviewing members of the Newark mosque and showing footage of the former Newark mosque minister, James 3X Shabazz, a former protégé of Malcolm X who grew jealous of Malcolm’s rise to the forefront of the Nation of Islam.

    Act Three

    Garrow makes his third appearance, during which he tells us that “the FBI had multiple informants inside the Nation of Islam—almost certainly so.” Well, did it or didn’t it?  Again, apparently we are to take this as an article of faith because Garrow has won the Pulitzer Prize or because he is white, or both.  What becomes disturbing at this point is that Garrow, whose reason for being in the series is never explained other than the aforementioned possibilities, is given nearly five times as much air time as Zak Kondo and other black historians in the series. In contrast, these African American historians have written five times as much about Malcolm X as Garrow.

    On a positive note, former New York police officials admit repeatedly during the series that Malcolm X was a thorn in their side and that they therefore routinely violated his privacy rights, worked with FBI agents to surveil him, and had informants inside Malcolm’s group, the Organization of Afro-American Unity. FBI Agent Arthur Fulton admits that the Bureau had informants inside the group.

    In yet another appearance, we see Rahman visiting Garrow’s home, where Rahman seems a bit surprised to see an FBI document about Elijah Muhammad’s adultery. Now, if Garrow believes that Rahman is the most knowledgeable person in the universe about Malcolm X, why does he need to show him a document that Rahman should know by heart?

    Another glaring omission is exposed at this point. When Garrow takes Rahman to the room where he keeps his research, we see boxes and boxes of files, all neatly organized. Even though the series shows Rahman at his home praying and sticking things on a board, we never see any evidence of his alleged thirty years of research, not so much as a single box. He has a few files on a table, but hell, those could well be something that he received from Garrow.

    Garrow also claims that the FBI had three informants inside Elijah Muhammad’s inner circle. He has a document on the table, but we never see it, unlike most of the other documents he discusses. He then claims that three of the ten people in Elijah Muhammad’s inner circle were FBI informants. Once again, we are asked to take this as an article of faith.

    John Ali, an individual long suspected of being an FBI informant, makes for the first time an interesting admission. He says that he applied for a position (which one is unclear, but presumably an agent) with the FBI but was turned down.

    The balance of the hour is spent discussing Malcolm’s mentoring of Muhammad Ali. Historian Peniel Joseph and Jonathan Eig, an award-winning biographer, make brief appearances.

    Act Four

    The scene begins with a rather disturbing and certainly questionable piece of hyperbole about Malcolm X’s mental state during the last year of his life. “He needed a therapist,” Joseph says. “He needed two therapists,” he adds with a grin.

    This is followed by a comment from Lance Shabazz, a diehard believer in Elijah Muhammad and someone who has written critically about Malcolm X for many years. “Malcolm X lost his mind,” he claims.

    A layperson is liable to believe that both men are speaking literally, and perhaps they were given the tone of the segment. In truth, Malcolm X was in great spirits until the last month or so of his life. He was anxious about the numerous attempts on his life, but was functioning as well as he always had. He was holding it all together until members of the Nation of Islam firebombed his home during the early morning hours of Valentine’s Day, 1965.

    He and his wife and daughters would have perished in the fire, but for a stroke of luck. One of the Molotov cocktails aimed at his daughter’s room on the second floor ricocheted, giving the family time to escape.

    What the series fails to note is that the person who threw the homemade incendiary device at the window was none other than Alvan Farrakhan, brother of NOI leader Louis Farrakhan. Farrakhan is seen in the background of several pieces of footage, but I don’t recall hearing his name mentioned more than once or twice.

    The reason why this is an unforgivable omission is because Alvan lived less than half a block from Malcolm X. The gang of Muslims who firebombed the home in all probability threw the bombs and then ran down the street to Alvan’s apartment.

    This is another example of the half-truth nature of the series. They want viewers to believe that the entire plot to kill Malcolm X emanated from Newark, when nothing could be further from the truth.

    Muslims, including John Ali and Butler, claim that Elijah Muhammad ordered his followers not to lay a finger on Malcolm X. There is no mention of the attempt to kill Malcolm X in Boston, the attempt by Boston mosque minister Clarence 2X Gill to obtain a silencer to kill Malcolm X, or the brazen attempt to kill Malcolm X right in front of his home.

    The comedy relief in the otherwise mundane series comes in this hour, when Rahman is visiting Garrow once again (around the 23-minute mark). Garrow shows Rahman and FBI transcript of a wiretapped telephone call between Elijah Muhammad and one of his ministers. During the call, Elijah Muhammad said that it was time for the NOI to deal with Malcolm X the same “way Moses and the other ones did” their bad apples.

    Rahman chimes in that he understands what that meant. It was a reference to how Moses wanted to kill certain Christians who resorted to idolatry when he had to go away for a while.

    When Garrow replied, I nearly bowled over laughing. I could just see them in a comedy.

    Garrow: “Well, golly, Mr. Rahman, I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout Moses. You really need someone with your background to understand all this Moses stuff!”

    It was one of the worst instances of patronizing conduct I have ever witnessed. Garrow has written numerous books and articles about Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Garrow grew up as a Christian. Yet he sits there with this ridiculous look on his face swearing that he had no idea what the reference to Moses meant.

    Near the end of the segment, Garrow tells us that Rahman “is a person with a cause. He’s one of deep commitment and deep faith and deep courage. What Rahman is doing, he adds, is “dangerous. Rahman knows that.”

    Garrow was doing so much sucking up to Rahman that I expected to find Rahman nursing him in the next episode.

    Act Five

    After telling us at the end of Act Four what a brave man this Rahman fellow is, Act Five opens with Rahman showing a video clip of the scene outside the Audubon moments after the assassination of Malcolm X.  This person, he says, pointing to a tall black man on the screen, “looks a lot like William Bradley.”

    “If I can prove it,” he adds, “I want to confront him face to face.” We see Rahman driving by Bradley’s gym and a daycare center, he says, that have closed. Poor Rahman is foiled again! (the audience laughs)

    This scene was presumably shot sometime before Bradley’s death in 2018.  As I said earlier, Rahman had eight years to confront Bradley, if that was ever his intent. Bradley was a dangerous man and you would have to be more crazy than brave to confront him without backup. That’s why we know this is only theater.

    The premise gets repeated, namely that Butler and Johnson were framed. We are told that there is no physical evidence linking them to the crime. What we are not told—and hence the half-truth aspect—is that many of the eyewitnesses to the assassination described one of the assassins as a man about Butler’s height and Butler’s complexion. Oh yes, they also mention that the assassin wore a tweed coat.

    Butler was the father of six young children at the time and as poor as a mosque mouse.  He had a tweed coat that was a bit too large and a brown suit that he wore two or three times a week. Another way to pick him out of the crowd was the way he wore his black fedora. He wore it at a forty-five-degree angle, always.

    Benjamin Karim, one of Malcolm’s top aides, swore in an affidavit that Johnson and Butler could not have been inside the Audubon that day because he or one of the guards would have seen them and put them out or barred their admittance.

    This affidavit is what threw every historian and researcher off track for decades. In 1992, I wrote in The Judas Factor that Butler and Johnson were not there because Karim said so. Peter Goldman wrote the same thing in 1973 and Kondo reiterated it in 1993. “If Butler and Johnson were there,” Kondo said in “Brother Minister (1994),” I was there.”

    The fundamental problem with Karim’s affidavit is that he did not witness the assassination, so how could he possibly swear that neither Johnson nor Butler was present?

    Ironically, the woman with whom Karim was having an affair in 1965 was also inside the Audubon. After the shooting, she and a group of women were the first people who rushed to help Malcolm. Most of the men were either hiding backstage or hiding under the chairs. Two of the women, a nurse named Yuri Kochiyama and Sharon 6X Poole, a former member of the Harlem mosque who quit to join Malcolm’s new group, positively identified Butler as one of three assassins.

     

    Sharon was Karim’s mistress. He never mentions that she identified Butler, and he never mentions her in his autobiography. Again, the problem of the half-truth.

    Karim doesn’t mention that Malcolm’s security was compromised by former members of the Newark mosque. Nor does Manning Marable mention that James 67X Warden, a former Harlem mosque member who left with Malcolm, was overheard on February 19 by a member of the security detail threatening to have Malcolm killed.

    “We,” Warden said, “will kill you.” Two days later, Malcolm was killed. Warden was a key adviser on Marable’s biography of Malcolm X.

    A positive scene in this act is the entrance of Eugene “Gene” Roberts, a member of Malcolm’s security detail who was an undercover detective for the New York Police Department’s Bureau of Special Services and Investigations (BOSSI).  He describes how quickly he was hired by BOSSI and how he was essentially a paid informant.

    Another note of interest is Arthur Fulton’s admission that the FBI had at least nine informants in the Audubon Ballroom when the assassination occurred.

    Act Six

    From the opening scene with Malcolm in Africa, we finally think that the series will discuss the revolutionary’s lasting impression on African, Asian, and Latin American leaders. They show a photo of him with Prince Faisal of Saudi Arabia, but they fail to show him with Fidel Castro or Kwame Nkrumah and other prominent Third World leaders.

    Instead, they return us to Garrow’s house, where Rahman, the greatest expert on Malcolm X in the universe, is being educated again by Garrow. Garrow has been amassing files on Malcolm X for over a decade. Presumably, his glowing adulation of Rahman is in anticipation of a biography crediting both of them as the authors.

    In a return to the “Hunt for William Bradley” subplot, Rahman is shown in Newark again. Just as he was about to confront Bradley, he receives a phone call telling him that Bradley had died.

    Rahman attends the funeral, or at least stands outside. He then interviews the same groups of Muslims for the fifth or sixth or tenth time. They assure him that Bradley was a changed man when he died, that he made the hajj and had all of his past sins wiped away.

    “I have given so many decades of my life to unveil who killed him,” Rahman says wistfully. He sacrificed his career (he works as a tour guide in Washington and has held other jobs) and time with his children in his quixotic journey to find the killers.

    As the scene closes, Rahman meets again with Butler. He vows to do everything in his power to get him exonerated.

    If that happens, Butler can sue the city of New York for wrongful conviction and get millions and millions of dollars. The lawyers representing him will take their cut, and everyone lives happily ever after.

    Except those like me who know that Butler was guilty and deserves every day he spent in prison and more.

    Below are photos from the footage shown in the series. They show Bradley and Hagan outside the Audubon shortly after the assassination.


    These photos are from the same footage. It shows Butler at the Audubon as he attempts to view Malcolm’s body to make sure he’s dead. This is the footage that Ark Media deleted. The company purports to seek the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about the assassination.

    But what it delivers is a half-truth. A half-truth is the same as a whole lie.



    The full footage begins at the 16-minute mark in this YouTube film.

  • Tom Hanks and 1968

    Tom Hanks and 1968


    As many of this site’s readers know, for the recently released book The JFK Assassination: The Evidence Today, this author did a lot of work on the career of actor Tom Hanks. In 1993, on the set of the film Philadelphia, Hanks met music producer Gary Goetzman. A few years after that meeting, Goetzman and Hanks decided to expand their careers into producing movies: both feature films and documentaries. They set up a company called Playtone and began to churn out products that—if one understands who Hanks is—were reflective of both the actor’s personal psyche and his view of the American zeitgeist. That view was accentuated when, in 1998, Hanks first worked with Steven Spielberg on the film Saving Private Ryan. It was while working on this film that the two met and befriended the late historian Stephen Ambrose, who was a consultant on that picture.

    As I wrote in my book, Ambrose turned out to have a real weakness for a historian: He manufactured interviews. Ambrose made his name, and became an establishment darling, due to his several books about Dwight Eisenhower. This included a two volume formal biography published in 1983-84. All of these books, except the first, were published after Eisenhower’s death in 1969. It was proven, by both an Eisenhower archivist and his appointments secretary, that Ambrose made up numerous interviews with the late president, interviews which he could not have conducted. (James DiEugenio, The JFK Assassination: The Evidence Today, p. 46) Late in his career, Ambrose was also proven to be a serial plagiarist by two different studies. (See David Kirkpatrick’s article in the NY Times, January 11, 2002; also “How the Ambrose Story Developed”, History News Network, June 2002)

    But the worst and most revealing issue about Ambrose’s career was his switching sides in the attacks on James Bacque’s important book, Other Losses. Bacque had done some real digging into the military archives of World War II. He had discovered that the Americans had been involved in serious war crimes against German prisoners of war, and had later tried to cover it up. Bacque sent his manuscript to Ambrose in advance of publication. Ambrose had nothing but praise for it. (DiEugenio, p. 47) In 1989, before the book was to be published abroad, Bacque visited Ambrose at his home and the two went over the book in detail. When Other Losses was published in America, Ambrose at first stood by the book, which, quite naturally, was generating controversy. But after doing a teaching engagement at the US Army War College, Ambrose reversed field. First, he organized a seminar attacking the book. Then, as he would later do with Oliver Stone’s JFK, he wrote an attack article for the New York Times. (DiEugenio, p. 47)

    As Bacque noted, the book Ambrose attacked was the same one the historian had praised in private letters to the author. It was the same book Ambrose read and offered suggestions to in the confines of his home. The difference was that the information was now public, and creating controversy. Bacque’s book was accusing the American military of grievous war crimes, including thousands of deaths, and since Eisenhower was involved in these acts, the pressure was on. Ambrose was the alleged authority on both Eisenhower and his governance of the American war effort in Europe. Could America have really done what the Canadian author was saying it did? To put it simply, Ambrose buckled. Under pressure from the military and the MSM, he did triple duty. Not only did he organize the panel and write the attack editorial, he then pushed through a book based on the panel. (See Bacque’s reply to this book)

    Reflecting on this professional and personal betrayal, Bacque later wrote that he could not really blame Ambrose for it all, because the American establishment does not really value accuracy in the historical record. What it really wants is a “pleasing chronicle which justifies and supports our society.” He then added that, in light of that fact, “We should not wonder when a very popular writer like Ambrose is revealed to be a liar and plagiarizer, because he has in fact given us what we demand from him above all, a pleasing myth.” (DiEugenio, p. 48)


    II

    I have prefaced this review of Playtone’s latest documentary 1968: The Year that Changed America, because it is important to keep all of this information in mind during any discussion of Hanks and his producing career. Even though he did not graduate from college, he fancies himself a historian. Thus many of his films deal with historical subjects: both his feature films and his documentaries. Yet Hanks—and also Spielberg—have set Ambrose as their role model in the field. In my view, it is this kind of intellectual sloth and lack of genuine curiosity that has helped give us films like Charlie Wilson’s War, Parkland, and The Post. These films all tried to make heroes out of people who were no such thing: U.S. representative Charlie Wilson, the Dallas Police, and in the last instance, Ben Bradlee and Kay Graham. And by doing so, these pictures have mislead the American public about important events; respectively, the origins and results of the war in Afghanistan, the assassination of President Kennedy, and the position of the Washington Post on the Vietnam War. (For details on all of these misrepresentations, elisions, and distortions see Part 3 of The JFK Assassination.)

    Since he wrote so often about Eisenhower, one of Ambrose’s preoccupations was World War II. He wrote at least a dozen books on that subject. As previously mentioned, Hanks and Spielberg took a brief vignette Ambrose had uncovered for his book Band of Brothers and greatly expanded and heavily revised it into the film Saving Private Ryan. (DiEugenio, pp. 45-46) From there, Hanks and Spielberg produced the hugely budgeted mini-series Band of Brothers. This was a chronicle of a company of American soldiers fighting in the European theater until the surrender of Japan. In addition to these two dramatic presentations, Hanks has produced three documentaries on the subject of American soldiers fighting in Europe. As anyone who has seen Saving Private Ryan knows, that film is largely based on the allied landing at Normandy in 1944. Ambrose wrote extensively on that event. In fact, one of his books was titled D-Day, June 6, 1944: The Climactic Battle of World War II. And in the films of Hanks and Spielberg, the import of that title is also conveyed: that America defeated the Third Reich.

    The problem with this is quite simple: it’s not true. Any real expert on World War II will inform you that it was not America that was responsible for the defeat of Hitler. It was the Soviets. And D-Day was not the climactic battle of that war. That took place in 1942 at Stalingrad, and to a lesser extent in 1943 with the tank battle at Kursk. Both of those titanic battles took place prior to the Normandy invasion, and Hitler gambled everything on them. His invasion of Russia in 1941 consumed 80% of the Wehrmacht, over three million men. To this day, it is the largest land invasion in history. (DiEugenio, p. 454) When this giant infantry offensive was defeated at Stalingrad, Hitler tried to counter that defeat with the largest tank battle in history at Kursk. This battle ended up being more or less a draw; but it was really a loss for Hitler since he had to win. The Germans lost so many men, aircraft and tanks on the Russian front that the rest of the war was a slow retreat back to Berlin.

    Due to the Cold War, the historical establishment in America largely ignored these facts. Like Ambrose, they chose to glorify and aggrandize what commanders like Eisenhower had done in Europe and, to a lesser extent, what Douglas MacArthur achieved in the Pacific. In both films and TV, Hollywood followed this paradigm. Pictures like The Longest Day, Anzio, and Battle of the Bulge were echoed by small screen productions like Combat, The Gallant Men, and Twelve O’clock High. Parents bought their children toy weapons and they played games modeled on these presentations of America crushing the Nazis.

    The social and historical problem with all this one-sidedness in books, films and network television was simple. It contributed to a cultural mythology of American supremacy, both in its military might and moral cause. That pretense—of both might and right—was slowly and excruciatingly ground to pieces in the jungles of Indochina. This is an important cultural issue that Ambrose, Hanks and Spielberg were not able to deal with in any real sense. I really don’t think that they ever actually confronted it. If one can make a film so weirdly lopsided as The Post, then I think one can say that, for whatever reason, it’s just not in them. After all, Hanks is 61, and Spielberg is 71. If you don’t get it after a combined 132 years, then it is probably too late. (This reviewer did some research into both men’s lives to try and ponder the mystery of this obtuseness. For my conclusions, see DiEugenio, pp. 42-44, 405-12)


    III

    This brings us to the latest Hanks/Goetzman historical documentary for CNN. It is called 1968: The Year that Changed America. HBO is the main outlet for the Playtone historical mini-series productions, e.g., John Adams, Band of Brothers, The Pacific. Cable News Network is the main market for their historical documentaries. This includes Playtone’s profiles of four decades—The Sixties, The Seventies, The Eighties, and The Nineties, and their awful documentary The Assassination of President Kennedy. This last was broadcast during the 50th anniversary of Kennedy’s murder in 2013. The two main talking heads on this program were Dan Rather and Vincent Bugliosi. One would have thought that Rather had so discredited himself on the subject that he would not appear on any such programs ever again. Playtone did not think so. Either that or Hanks was unaware of the discoveries of the late Roger Feinman. Feinman worked for CBS and exposed their unethical broadcast practices in both their 1967 and 1975 specials, in addition to their subsequent lies about them. (See Why CBS Covered Up the JFK Assassination) I would like to think Hanks unaware of all this. But after sustained exposure to his output, I am not sure it would have made any difference.

    This lack of scholarly rigor is reflected in some of the talking heads employed in 1968: The Year that Changed America. There is a crossover with that recent documentary bomb, American Dynasties: The Kennedys. (See my review) So again we get writers like Pat Buchanan, Tim Naftali and Evan Thomas. But in addition, we get Rather, plus the Washington Post’s Thomas Ricks, former Nixon appointee Dwight Chapin and Hanks himself. There have been many books written about that key year of 1968, but this documentary does not utilize most of the recent releases by authors like Richard Vinen, or even Laurence O’Donnell. Instead, it relies on authors who wrote their books long ago; for example, Mark Kurlanksy, whose book was published in 2003, and Charles Kaiser, who first published his volume in 1988. Readers can draw their own conclusions about these choices.

    The four-hour series is divided up by seasons: Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall. It begins with Rather discussing the fading presidency of Lyndon Johnson. He delivers the usual platitudes about LBJ’s passage of some good domestic legislation like Medicare, but how this was outweighed by the war in Vietnam. In addition to this standby cliché, the program misses a grand opportunity to elucidate a key point about that war. In 1966, author Michael Arlen termed it “the living room war”. This is because reporters on the scene were allowed almost unfettered access to military operations. This approach brought the war’s brutality into the home front. The Pentagon understood this was a liability, so in later wars, this was greatly curtailed. What took its place was the so-called press junket or pool: certain journalists were given restricted access accompanied by escorts. They reported back to their colleagues and that is how the news was distributed. To put it plainly, because of Vietnam, war reporting has now become controlled. This technique was used extensively during Operation Desert Storm and the invasion of Iraq (e.g., the siege of Fallujah).

    The film’s second lost opportunity concerns the fact that, by 1968, Johnson had escalated the Vietnam War to almost unfathomable heights since he had taken office in 1963. What made that worse is that he had run on a peace platform in 1964. In that campaign he had characterized his opponent, Senator Barry Goldwater, as the hawk on Vietnam. As Frederick Logevall noted in his book, Choosing War, if anyone had promised anything during that campaign, Johnson had promised the American people there would be no wider war. But not only did LBJ hide his true intentions in 1964, he also hid the fact that, unlike President Kennedy, he was determined not to lose in Indochina. (Logevall, p. 94) The fact that he had deceived the American public in 1964, then escalated the war to the point of inserting 500,000 combat troops in theater, while instituting Rolling Thunder, the largest aerial bombardment campaign in military history—all of this was too much of a reversal. Especially when it was accompanied by a draft, and resistance to that draft. In this reviewer’s opinion, this film downplays or ignores all of these key points. Yet they are all crucial in explaining why Johnson had become so unpopular in 1967 and 1968. To have Dan Rather, not Logevall, address this issue reveals early how honest this program is going to be.

    We then cut to the siege of Khe Sanh and the Tet offensive. Philip Caputo talks about the former, Hanks discusses the latter. Surprisingly, the program makes no attempt to link the two attacks. Many analysts of the war, like John Prados, have posed the questions: Was Khe Sanh a diversion for Tet? Or was Tet a diversion for Khe Sanh? Today, the consensus seems to be the former. Khe Sanh was in an extreme, almost isolated northern part of South Vietnam and was under siege by the regulars in the North Vietnamese army. Most of the Tet uprisings were in the south and were conducted by a combination of the Viet Cong supported by about 60 to 70,000 North Vietnamese regulars. The commander of the northern army, Genral Giap, later said that Khe Sanh itself was not important, but only served as a diversion to draw American forces away from population centers in the south, including Saigon. (See the essay “The Battle of Khe Sanh”, by Peter Brush.) Not only is this important issue not addressed, but the program again utilizes another cliché: namely, that Tet was a military defeat but such a shock that it succeeded psychologically.

    The reviewer begs to disagree. Militarily, what Tet revealed was two crucial points. The first was that the three-year escalation by Johnson, as supervised by General William Westmoreland, had been a failure. No major city in South Vietnam was secure from attack, not even the American embassy in Saigon. The enemy was everywhere and was armed and ready to kill. The Westmoreland/Johnson strategy of wearing down the opponent through a war of attrition had been misguided and pretty much useless. Secondly, it showed that the fabricated country of South Vietnam was a hollow shell. Without American troops, Tet would have probably collapsed the Saigon government. Johnson and Westmoreland had built no effective independent fighting force there. It was the exposure of these two failures that cashiered both Johnson and Westmoreland. On top of that, it stopped any further troop escalation of the war.

    A third result of Tet—also ignored by the program—was that it showed the almost astonishing lack of intelligence America had on the enemy. As CIA professionals like Ralph McGehee have written, the surprise of the Tet offensive was probably one of the greatest intelligence failures in American military history. Yet it did not seem to hurt the career of the CIA station chief in Saigon, Ted Shackley.

    The complement to this North Vietnamese success was that the American military was disintegrating. In fact, the My Lai Massacre took place in March, 1968. If the reader can believe it, I could detect no mention of this atrocity in this four-part documentary. I also could find no mention of what My Lai was probably a part of, namely Operation Phoenix. This was the CIA’s systematic and brutal program to torture and kill civilians who were suspected of being Viet Cong. Reporters like Seymour Hersh had denied My Lai was part of the Phoenix Program. But later authors like Doug Valentine have discovered new evidence which indicates it was. (The Assassinations, edited by James DiEugenio and Lisa Pease, p. 367)

    In addition to these shortcomings, there is almost no analysis of why President Johnson decided not to run in 1968. The program offers up the fact that Senator Eugene McCarthy had done well against LBJ in the New Hampshire primary—something that we all know and is about as sophisticated and penetrating as a high school history textbook. The program does not mention the now famous meeting of the so-called Wise Men that Johnson called after the Tet offensive. This meeting was attended by some outside luminaries like former Secretary of State Dean Acheson and General Omar Bradley. Johnson brought in a military briefer. The briefer tried to explain how Tet was a military loss for the communists. At this point, former Secretary of State Acheson got up and walked out. After, a Johnson aide called and asked why he left. Acheson replied that he would not sit through more canned Pentagon briefings. He wanted to see the raw reports and talk to people on the ground. After this call, LBJ sent Secretary of Defense Clark Clifford over to the Pentagon to look at those reports and interview the commanders. After about two weeks of review, Clifford—who had been a hawk—now decided the war was hopeless. He advised Johnson to seek a negotiated settlement. What makes this key episode surprising by its absence is that Evan Thomas is the co-author of the book the information first appeared in. Today, Thomas has become a hack. But in 1986, he and Walter Isaacson wrote an interesting book. (The Wise Men, pp. 683-89; see also Todd Gitlin, The Sixties, pp. 303-04)

    The other reason that Johnson decided to step down was first conveyed through journalist Jules Witcover’s book 85 Days, a chronicle of Robert Kennedy’s last campaign. After Senator Eugene McCarthy’s strong showing in the New Hampshire primary and Robert Kennedy’s announcement to enter the race, Johnson’s men on the ground in Wisconsin predicted he had no chance of winning the state primary. (Gitlin, p. 304; Milton Viorst, Fire in the Streets, p. 419) That is how unpopular LBJ had become. Indeed, realizing he had no chance of winning, authors like Robert Dallek and Joseph Palermo have shown that Johnson now schemed of ways to deprive Bobby Kennedy of both the nomination and a victory in November. Again, Dallek is one of the interviewees, but apparently this was too hardboiled for the Playtone scenario.


    IV

    After Vietnam, the second major subject the film portrays is the sanitation workers’ strike in Memphis that Martin Luther King was part of in March and April of 1968. It was this participation that led to King’s assassination on April 4th. Since this is Hanks and Goetzman, there is no discussion of any of the suspicious circumstances that took place that made his murder possible. Rather, the program uses the late Rev. Billy Kyles as a witness, a man who some believe may have been part of the set up to kill King. (See The 13th Juror, pp. 521-28) There is only a brief mention that, in 1967-68, King was trying to expand his movement beyond civil rights, of how this strained his relations with his more conservative political allies and how it was not enough for the more radical elements.

    The program then breaks from straight political history into a segment on African-American singers James Brown and Diana Ross. It thereafter cuts to the 1968 Academy Awards, where the Best Picture Oscar was won by the film In the Heat of the Night, a tricky race-relations police mystery. If the reader can fathom it, the program then follows with a few moments on the science-fiction film Planet of the Apes. Author Rick Perlstein says something like, well the riots in the cities were reflected in the destruction of the Statue of Liberty at the end of that film. I will not comment on the silliness of that cultural comparison. Except to say that this is Playtone.

    Instead of the sci-fi interlude, I wish the program would have given more time to the establishment and aftermath of the Kerner Commission. As a result of the terrible race riots in Watts, Chicago, Newark and Detroit, President Johnson appointed Governor Otto Kerner of Illinois to chair an 11-member panel to study the causes and possible cures for these riots, which had taken the lives of scores of citizens. That 1968 report ended up being a national bestseller and was one of the most acute and candid analyses of the race problem written in that era. It revealed that police brutality instigated many of the riots and that the underlying issues were failed housing and education programs. It also assailed the media for having almost no insight into the causes of the conflagrations. The report’s most memorable quote was, “Our nation is moving toward two societies, one black, one white—separate but unequal.” The most notable aspect of this remarkable document is that, after appointing the commission, Johnson ignored the report. This was the beginning of the policy that White House advisor Patrick Moynihan and President Richard Nixon would later formalize as “benign neglect” toward the race problem. (Viorst, p. 508) Needless to say, one month after the report was published, over a hundred riots broke out in the wake of King’s assassination.

    The third large event that the film describes is the entry into the Democratic race for the presidency by Robert Kennedy. Tim Naftali says that Kennedy did not enter until Johnson had been already wounded by McCarthy in New Hampshire. As several authors have noted, Bobby Kennedy had been having discussions on whether to announce his candidacy for over a month prior to the New Hampshire primary. As journalist Jules Witcover wrote, he had decided to enter the primary race prior to New Hampshire. (Chapter 2 in the e-book version of Witcover’s 85 Days, specifically p. 70) But he did not announce until after because he did not want that announcement to have any effect on that state primary. The film then depicts Kennedy in Indianapolis announcing the news of King’s murder to an awaiting crowd, and his prominent role in helping Coretta King arrange the funeral in Atlanta.

    The student riots at Columbia are mentioned and depicted visually, but their anti-war origins are bypassed. One of the students involved, Bob Feldman, had discovered the university was supporting the war effort through its association with the Institute for Defense Analysis. The film also does not deal with the unusual bifurcation of that demonstration. The SDS students were dealt with separately from the university’s African-American demonstrators. The former were motivated by Columbia’s association with the war; the latter by the encroachment by the university into the nearby lower class area of Morningside Heights and the construction of a gym they felt would be segregated. The Columbia demonstration ended with the NYPD assaulting the students: over 100 were injured and nearly 600 were arrested. As author Todd Gitlin noted, the MSM—particularly the New York Times and Newsweek—turned against the students and did not denounce the brutality the police used in expelling them from the campus. (Gitlin, pp. 307-08)

    The film now begins to posit the two figures of Richard Nixon and George Wallace in opposition to these student and race disturbances. The series never makes explicit what was clearly the political objective of both presidential candidates: To capitalize on these inner city bonfires—over one hundred cities erupted in riots after King’s murder—in order to exploit the issue of “law and order” for political purposes. The idea was to ignore their underlying causes and exalt the effort of the police to stamp them out, which was made easier by LBJ ignoring the Kerner Commission. For example, Nixon began to cultivate a Southern Strategy around the race riots issue. Kevin Phillips, a Nixon strategist at the time, was open about this later. He had noted that in 1964, although Senator Barry Goldwater had lost in a landslide, the conservative Republican presidential candidate took five states in the south. The strategist chalked this up to the fact that Goldwater had voted against the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Phillips concluded that his party should enforce the Voting Rights Act because, “The more Negroes who register as Democrats in the South, the sooner the Negrophobe whites will quit the Democrats and become Republicans. That’s where the votes are.” He then added that without that aspect, “the whites will backslide into their old comfortable arrangement with the local Democrats.” (NY Times, May 17, 1970, “Nixon’s Southern Strategy”) For whatever reason, Phillips is not on the program to explain this strategy.

    A good way to have crystallized this moral and political quandary would have been to contrast the Nixon/Phillips strategy with what Bobby Kennedy was faced with in late 1963. The first scene of John Bohrer’s book about RFK depicts the Attorney General contemplating a letter of resignation to his brother in November of 1963. Kennedy felt that he had been too strong on the issue of civil rights and would now lose the entire south for JFK in the upcoming election. (The Revolution of Robert Kennedy, p. 1) In other words, since the 18 previous presidents had ignored the issue and allowed segregation and discrimination to fester in the south, when Bobby Kennedy faced the issue directly, white backlash had been unleashed. This painful moral and political issue is not addressed in this Hanks/Goetzman production.


    V

    The race for the Republican nomination is also outlined. Richard Nixon had a well-planned, well-organized campaign and he got in early. His two rivals were Michigan governor George Romney and the governor of New York, Nelson Rockefeller. In 1967, Romney made a bad mistake for a Republican: He told the truth about Vietnam. In explaining his early support for the war, he said he had been brainwashed by the army about it. (Gitlin, p. 297) This eventually forced him to leave the field in February. Rockefeller vacillated and did not enter the race until the end of April. Considering that tardiness he did fairly well, coming in second in the delegate count at the Miami convention. California Governor Ronald Reagan challenged Nixon in some of the primaries but only won in his home state. Spiro Agnew, the governor of Maryland was nominated for Vice President, reportedly on the strength of a scolding delivered to civil rights demonstrators. (Gitlin, p. 132)

    As many commentators have stated, this race constituted a milestone for the Republican Party. Nixon’s victory and the failure of Romney and Rockefeller to effectively challenge him from the center marked the beginning of the end of both the moderate and liberal wings of the GOP represented, respectively, by politicians like Senator John Sherman Cooper and Senator Jacob Javits. The next Republican to win the White House would be the man who challenged Nixon from the far right, Ronald Reagan. This historical landmark is only passingly noted in the film.

    In dealing with Bobby Kennedy’s June victory in California, the program has Tim Naftali say words to the effect that when Kennedy exited the Embassy Room and walked through the pantry, Sirhan Sirhan was waiting for him. It’s comments like this that keep Naftali on these programs. As anyone who has studied the RFK case knows, Sirhan was escorted into the pantry by the infamous Girl in the Polka Dot Dress after he shared coffee with her. Or as Sirhan himself said, “Then she moved and I followed her. She led me into a dark place.” (Shane O’Sullivan, Who Killed Bobby, p. 115) The program then shows some film of the aftermath of the shooting. In relation to Sirhan, who was being pummeled, one person cries out, “We don’t want another Oswald!” That exclamation bridges a five-year national psychic chasm extending from Dallas to Los Angeles.

    Kennedy’s death is followed by the subsequent mass at St Patrick’s in New York, featuring Ted Kennedy’s memorable eulogy. We then see the famous railroad car journey from New York to Washington where reportedly two million spectators lined the tracks to say good-bye and pay their respects to the senator. This touching moment is then dissipated by Hanks coming on and saying words to the effect: And that was the end of 1968. No Tom, that was the end of the second phase of the sixties, and for all intents and purposes it closed the promise of the decade down. The first phase of the sixties are sometimes termed the Camelot years, from 1960-63. It was brought to an end in Dallas in 1963. The second phase of the decade was the angry sixties, finished off by Robert Kennedy’s 1968 assassination in Los Angeles. The murders of both King and RFK were the last spasms of the once promising and hopeful decade. After this, American youth escaped into drugs and psychedelic rock epitomized by Woodstock in 1969. That sensational decade was therefore literally shot to death.

    During Kennedy’s funeral at Arlington, many inhabitants of Resurrection City, the site of the Poor People’s March, journeyed over to pay their last respects. This was fitting in more than one respect, because it was Kennedy, through Marian Wright, who had given King the idea for that Poor People’s March. (Arthur Schlesinger, Robert Kennedy and His Times, pp. 911-12) The film does not note that irony. Nor does it note that Tom Hayden, who was about to lead the demonstrations in Chicago, was weeping in a pew during the requiem mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. (Schlesinger, p. 956)

    And that would have been a good lead-in to the film’s presentation of the disastrous Democratic Convention in Chicago. Vice-President Hubert Humphrey had entered the race, but had bypassed competing in any primaries. In 1968, it was still possible to amass a large amount of delegates without going the primary route. Because he was closely associated with President Johnson, Humphrey—unlike Kennedy and McCarthy—had not denounced the war in public. On the contrary, as John Bohrer wrote, he had attacked Kennedy for offering diplomatic solutions to end the conflict. (The Revolution of Robert Kennedy, pp. 271-74) As the film notes, after the death of RFK, McCarthy essentially slid off the grid. There really was no genuine anti-war alternative to Humphrey in Chicago. And this was the cause of the demonstrations and rioting that took place there. Unlike what the film conveys, while the riots were ongoing, the networks did not really cover them very much. For instance, out of 19 hours of coverage, NBC only showed 14 minutes of the demonstrations and police beatings. (“Lessons from the Election of 1968”, The New Yorker, January 8, 2018)

    Resurrection City and the Poor People’s March had failed without King. And, as many have observed, without RFK there, the Democratic Party split apart in Chicago. Mayor Richard Daley was determined to show that, amid the chaos, he was in charge. The police even raided McCarthy’s headquarters at the Hilton Hotel. (Gitlin, p. 334) Humphrey won the nomination, but he was a severely wounded candidate. He did not announce his support for a bombing halt and negotiations until the last month of the campaign. McCarthy would not endorse him until the last week. He was gaining rapidly at the end, but he fell just short. The film tries to say that Illinois, which went for Nixon, made the difference. But doing the arithmetic in the Electoral College, that is not correct. Nixon still would have won. The difference was probably the Wallace campaign.

    To the film’s credit, it does mention the October Surprise of 1968: that is, Nixon’s actions through Republican lobbyist Anna Chennault to sabotage Johnson’s attempt to get negotiations going in Paris between Saigon and Hanoi. The subterfuge turned out to be effective and it might have cost Humphrey the election. But the film does not ask the next logical question. Since Johnson found out about Nixon’s subversion while it was in progress, why did he not make it public? Johnson also had evidence that the Greek junta had funneled Nixon $500,000 during his campaign. (NY Times, April 12, 1998, “Lone Star Setting”) This was clearly a bribe. Did Johnson not want Humphrey to win? In fact, as Sean Wilentz reported in the aforementioned article, Johnson actually preferred Nelson Rockefeller as his successor.

    The film ends with what one would expect of Hanks. Not with Nixon and the premature end of the sizzling Sixties, but with 2001: A Space Odyssey and the Apollo 7 and Apollo 8 missions, the latter of which orbited the moon. Hanks has always idealized those space missions. And he has always ignored their prohibitive costs and the fact that they ended up in the Challenger catastrophe. Which pretty much ended the wild ideas about manned space flights. This contravenes the film’s idea that somehow Apollo 8 redeemed the horrible disappointments and reversals of 1968, which helped bring about the coming of Richard Nixon. And neither does a film culture that went from 2001: A Space Odyssey to Wonder Woman and Black Panther. Those last two films treat the issues of women’s rights and black identity only a couple of notches below the depth with which In the Heat of the Night did. On the issue of race, I much preferred the quiet simplicity of Nothing But a Man.

    In sum, this is a thoroughly mediocre rendering of a tumultuous year. Mediocre in every way, including aesthetically. It is almost as if Adam Curtis and the daring things he did with documentary form in The Power of Nightmares never happened. What Playtone does here is simply slap together archival footage with people talking. Which would not be bad if the talking heads delivered original or insightful commentary. But they don’t. Not even close. And that is a real shame since what happened in 1968 casts a very long shadow. A shadow that cuts well into the new millennium.

  • UPDATED: CNN Disservices History –– American Dynasties: The Kennedys


    The documentary mini series, American Dynasties: The Kennedys had its first go round for CNN in March of last year. CNN has decided to rerun this thoroughly mediocre production, therefore we are reposting this review. Something we did not know at the time of its original broadcast was that the production company which originated the series is Raw TV. That company was purchased by Discovery Channel before it started this series. Discovery Channel has been involved with some of the worst pieces of drivel ever produced on the Kennedy case, e.g.Inside the Target Car. That company continues in that tawdry vein with this shallow, quasi tabloid look at the Kennedy family. From its choice of talking heads–with Van Jones and Randy Taraborrelli–to its cheesy recreations, this series redefined the word nondistinction. Since CNN decided to repeat it, we post this review as a warning to the viewer.

    CNN has devoted a six-part documentary to a project called The Kennedys. One would think that if one spent that much screen time on such a long series that somehow, some way, one would bring something new and interesting to the production. Or at least be able to create some sense of pathos, or perhaps even a sense of impending doom to a saga that clearly contains tragic dimensions on both a personal and national level. To say that this series lacks those qualities is too mild a criticism.

    The full title of the series is American Dynasties: The Kennedys. I am a bit puzzled whenever that title is utilized, as John Davis did in his book about the Kennedy family. President John F. Kennedy served less than three years of one term in office, and was killed under suspicious circumstances. His younger brother, Robert Kennedy, was killed amidst even more suspicious circumstances before he even got to the Democratic nominating convention in 1968. One can call the Bush family a dynasty, or the Adams family, but not the Kennedys.

    The spin of the series was guaranteed with the choice of talking heads. I would classify Sally Bedell Smith as perhaps one notch above Kitty Kelly on the scholar scale. Evan Thomas, a longtime veteran of Newsweek, wrote one book on the Kennedys, a biography of Bobby Kennedy. I stopped reading when I saw the book contained footnotes to the work of David Heymann who has been exposed as a biographical fraud. J. Randy Taraborrelli is an entertainment reporter who specializes in newsstand type celebrity biographies about people like Cher, Diana Ross, Michael Jackson, and Madonna. Larry Tye wrote a book about Bobby Kennedy that was jacket endorsed by, of all people, the post-war champion of genocides, Henry Kissinger. After reading it I understood why Kissinger liked it. Van Jones wrote a book called The Green Dollar Economy. How that qualifies him as a Kennedy authority escapes this reviewer. The series features a few female talking heads like Barbara Perry. I would like to say that they helped provide new and interesting information. But they didn’t. How could they if one of them was CIA asset Priscilla Johnson McMillan?


    I

    The plan behind the series is apparent by the middle of the second program. The concept is to make the Kennedy children pretty much empty vessels of their father Joseph Kennedy. Therefore, Joe Kennedy is turned into a caricature whose influence is extended throughout their lives and careers. By doing that one then dilutes their true achievements and aims. I recognized the paradigm since I dealt with it a long time ago in a review of the literature. Over twenty years ago as editor of Probe Magazine, I wrote a long two-part essay called “The Posthumous Assassination of John F. Kennedy.” For that travail I read many of the post-Church-Committee biographies of JFK and noted how these works used that design: for instance, volumes by Clay Blair, the aforementioned John Davis, and the team of David Horowitz and Peter Collier, among others. (See The Assassinations, edited by James DiEugenio and Lisa Pease, pp. 346-59; also available on this site) Joe Kennedy was obviously the prime financial backer behind the political campaigns of his sons. But it is clear that they rejected what those biographers considered Joe’s worst political trait: his isolationist foreign policy. (DiEugenio and Pease, p. 355) JFK broke with his father during his House of Representatives days. As denoted by his voting record, the young Kennedy was an internationalist, a motif we will return to later. Further, Congressman Kennedy voted to sustain Harry Truman’s veto of the Taft-Hartley bill. That bill would have weakened unions to the benefit of wealthy businessmen like his father. (p. 355) Neither of these is noted in the series.

    Further, The Kennedys tries to say that somehow Joe Kennedy wanted to be president. When he could not—due to his isolationist statements as ambassador to England during World War II—he passed this ambition on to his sons. Richard Whalen was hardly a sympathetic biographer of Joseph Kennedy. But in his 472-page, heavily annotated book, he characterizes the portrayal of these presidential ambitions as “the echo of the press talking to itself.” In other words, they were the amplification of rumors. (Whelan, The Founding Father, p. 217)

    And the documentary’s implication that somehow John Kennedy had to be goaded by his father to go into politics also does not hold very much water. If one reads enough biographies of JFK, one sees that, from his early journalistic days, the man was a political junkie. He subscribed to the New York Times at age 14. A visiting professor at the Kennedy home commented after talking to the teenager that, even then, his mind was more politically sophisticated than his father’s or his older brother. He was impressed by John’s ability to put current events in historical perspective and to project trends into the future. (John Shaw, JFK in the Senate, pp. 12-13) A few years later, one of his girlfriends, Bab Beckwith, threw him out of her room because he was ignoring her in order to listen to a news bulletin on the radio. Having seen pictures of Beckwith, I can say that young Kennedy had to have been a triple-distilled political junkie to ignore her for the news. (DiEugenio and Pease, p. 348)

    This is also borne out by the memories of his two close friends, Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers. Very early, Kennedy told them the reason he got into politics was not due to the death of his older brother Joseph, or any pressure from his father. As an employed reporter, he once covered the birth of the United Nations and the meeting at Potsdam. After that, he decided he could influence events more by being in the arena than by reporting on them or writing about them in books. (Shaw, p. 14) Those were the other two professions—journalism and book writing—he had thought of taking up. The other reason he chose to enter politics was because of his experience in World War II. He was determined that such a conflagration should not happen again. In asking his acquaintance John Droney for help in his first campaign, Droney tried to put him off by saying he was eager to start his law practice. Kennedy replied, “If we’re going to change things the way they should be changed, we all have to do things we don’t want to do.” Stung by the sincerity of that response, Droney delayed his law practice and went to work for him. (O’Donnell and Powers, Johnny We hardly Knew Ye, p. 51; Ted Sorenson, Kennedy, p. 15)

    To really understand the spin of the program, one has to note two strophes that the show used in dealing with JFK’s service in World War II. First, how he ended up going to the Solomon Islands in the South Pacific, and second, his act of heroism there. The show makes much of young Kennedy’s affair with Inga Arvad while he was serving in Naval intelligence. (The show even features reenactments of her.) From all the evidence this author has seen, Kennedy really liked Inga Arvad, to the point of being almost in love with her. The program’s concept is to portray her as a German espionage agent.

    Let me summarize the actual episode succinctly and objectively. J. Edgar Hoover tried everything he could to make a case for Arvad being a spy: all kinds of surveillance, breaking into her room, and even planting stories in the press. He never could. (Nigel Hamilton, Reckless Youth, pp. 428-41) And she was not the prime reason JFK left his intelligence position. Kennedy found intelligence work boring; after Pearl Harbor, he wanted to go on active duty. (Whalen, p. 358; Arthur Schlesinger, A Thousand Days, p. 86; Hamilton, p. 450)

    This spin is a warm-up for the treatment of the whole PT 109 episode. Here, the program tries to deflate the bravery and heroism young Kennedy displayed. One commentator says Kennedy was not really proud of what happened with the incident, and another actually says that Kennedy should have been court-martialed. The following is what the program leaves out.

    The August, 1943 episode with Kennedy as skipper of PT 109 was part of a larger and more complicated action, including several other PT boats patrolling for Japanese destroyers close to land. The idea was to snuff them out and fire at them with torpedoes. The problem was that Kennedy’s division leader had left the area with their sole radar set. (Hamilton, pp. 558-59) Consequently, in the pitch black of night, with no radar, Kennedy was left with a dilemma: He did not want to turn on his lights, because that would alert the enemy to where he was. In addition to this, Kennedy was slowly cruising with bad intelligence. The Japanese were aware of the operation much sooner than anticipated. One reason for this was that a fellow PT boat, the one with radar, had already fired at a destroyer. That escaping boat had not alerted PT 109 concerning the destroyers in the vicinity or its action. (Hamilton, p. 559)

    The supporting intelligence was so bad that the PT boats left behind were unknowingly about to be attacked by both planes and destroyers. Without radar, the sailors thought the shells were coming from shore batteries. What made it all the worse is that one of the headquarters commanders was urging the remaining boats to go ahead and attack. (Hamilton, p. 561) But by now the destroyers were coming out to do battle. PT 109 was deliberately rammed by the destroyer Amagiri. With communications so poor on the American side, no one rushed to the rescue of a boat that had been cut in half and was burning in the water. Moreover, at least one other boat commander thought that no one could survive such a conflagration. (Hamilton, p. 571-72)

    Two sailors had been killed upon impact; eleven men were left. Kennedy had directed the survivors to try to board the floating hulk of the ship. He grouped some of the non-swimmers on a piece of timber from the wreck of the boat. JFK led his men away while swimming with a lifeboat strap between his teeth, towing a badly burned sailor behind. He did this for 4 hours, until they reached Kennedy’s destination, Plum Pudding Island. But Plum Pudding was barren and Japanese barges were floating by. Kennedy swam another 2.5 miles to Olasana Island. There he found some vegetation and water, and the crew transferred to Olasana. Kennedy scratched out a message on a coconut shell and gave it to some native Allied scouts in canoes. They managed to get it to their British scoutmaster. Six days later, with Kennedy and his men in very bad health, a large canoe with some food arrived to carry them to rescue. (Hamilton, p. 594)

    How anyone can say, as this program does, that Kennedy should have been court-martialed for his performance under these conditions is completely nutty. The men who should have been charged were those who organized that poorly planned and badly executed mission, as well as the officer who left three boats behind in the dark with no radar. Unlike what the program tries to convey, Kennedy was proud of his military service—as he should have been. He kept his three well-deserved medals; and the coconut shell he carved onto was on his presidential desk. (Sorenson, p. 19) Knowing the full facts, what this part of the program amounts to is nothing but a hatchet job.


    II

    The program skips over John Kennedy’s years in the House of Representatives. This is odd, but considering his policy program, predictable. Kennedy’s 1946 congressional campaign consisted of pledges to work for a national health care system, advocacy of workers’ rights to organize, housing for returning veterans, and securing the future of the United Nations as a hope for peace in the world. (Shaw, p. 16) Kennedy had a high profile for a first time congressional candidate because his first book, Why England Slept, had sold well, another point that is ignored by the program.

    Once he got to Congress, the issue he fought hardest over was affordable housing for veterans. JFK hammered the GOP for stalling a housing bill and he particularly attacked their ally, the American Legion. On the House floor he said that the leadership of the American Legion had not had a constructive thought about American progress since 1918. (Shaw, p. 21) That would have been an appropriate and humorous quote for the program. But it’s not there. In 1947 he debated Richard Nixon in McKeesport, Pennsylvania, over the Taft-Hartley bill , an act that would weaken unions: JFK was against it, Nixon was for it. (Shaw, p. 23) Again, this interesting and informative fact is rendered incommunicado during the six hours of The Kennedys.

    After all but ignoring his three terms in the House, the show picks up with JFK’s run for the Senate in 1952. Evan Thomas intones that at this time John Kennedy considered RFK something like a pain in the butt. Thomas can only say this because the program does not relate the journey the brothers made the year before to the Far East and Indochina. JFK did this in order to raise his foreign policy profile in his upcoming challenge to Senator Henry Cabot Lodge in Massachusetts. This is where the brothers met American diplomat Edmund Gullion in Saigon, who told them that the French could not win their effort to retake their colony. They also met with Nehru of India who told them the same. As Bobby later stated, these discussions had a major impact on JFK’s thinking. And the congressman began to express his doubts about America’s prosecution of the Cold War in public venues and in no uncertain terms. This again brought him into open verbal conflict with his father’s isolationism. (Arthur Schlesinger, Robert Kennedy and His Times, pp. 95-97)

    Because of these omissions and distortions, the show gets the episode of RFK replacing Mark Dalton as his brother’s Senate campaign manager mostly wrong. RFK was hesitant to take the position only because he had started a job as a Justice Department attorney, which he liked. Further, the real impetus for the request was not so much Joe Kennedy as it was the congressman’s friend and advisor Ken O’Donnell. O’Donnell told RFK that unless he took over, there was a real possibility his brother would lose. (Schlesinger, p. 98) This convinced Bobby to take charge and he did a fine job running a successful campaign. He worked 18-hour days and showed excellent organizational ability.

    The following segment, about John and Robert Kennedy on Capitol Hill, is so oddly conceived and off kilter that it amounts to little less than censorship. This section deals more with Bobby Kennedy as a Senate investigator than John as a senator. In fact, JFK’s senatorial career is more or less ignored. The show deals with Kennedy’s eight years in the senate through his several illnesses and operations, his attempt to secure the Vice-Presidency at the 1956 convention, and his wedding to Jacqueline Bouvier. Amazingly, the show calls JFK’s senatorial career non-descript except for his service on the McClellan committee. That committee investigated organized crime and the Teamsters Union and was helmed by Bobby Kennedy.

    If at this point anyone had lingering doubts about the deliberate myopia of the series, this section should end them. As John Shaw concludes in his study of JFK’s senatorial career, although it had several distinctive qualities, clearly the most significant achievement of those eight years was the formulation of Kennedy’s challenge to the reigning foreign policy orthodoxy governing both political parties. (Shaw, p. 110) The GOP Cold War militancy toward the USSR and its influence in the Third World was led by President Eisenhower, Vice-President Nixon, and the Dulles brothers: John Foster at State, and Allen at CIA. In the Senate, Lyndon Johnson and the southern Democrats offered no alternative to this; they were, at best, a pale shadow of that policy. As Shaw notes, the joke about the Senate was that it was “the only place in the country where the South did not lose the [Civil] war.” (Shaw, p. 59)

    Senator Kennedy continued his lonely crusade to create an alternative to this overwrought militancy by trying to point out that the real problem in the Third World was not communism but colonialism and the counterforce it created: simmering nationalism. Kennedy thought the USA should foster and mold that nationalism—even if it meant conflict with our European allies. What makes the program’s avoidance of this key issue so bizarre is that one of the talking heads in the series is Richard Mahoney. Mahoney is the author of the landmark volume on this subject, JFK: Ordeal in Africa. I don’t for five seconds believe that the producers were not aware of this book. They clearly decided to ignore it and not let Mahoney talk about his detailed descriptions of Kennedy’s opposition to the White House in this regard. (As we will see, this manipulation is a recurring motif.)

    Thus there is no mention of Senator Kennedy’s opposition to Foster Dulles’ attempt to bail out the French with atomic weapons at Dien Bien Phu, or Adlai Stevenson’s telegram to stifle Kennedy’s radical foreign policy statements during the 1956 presidential race, or even his milestone speech in the summer of 1957 against the Dulles/Eisenhower attempt to help France salvage another remnant of its overseas empire, this time in Algeria. Kennedy showed courage in making that speech because he was criticizing a long time American ally, one that had helped the thirteen colonies become independent from England. In addition to the White House, the speech was strongly criticized by literally scores of media outlets, and also members of his own party like Stevenson and former Secretary of State Dean Acheson. (See Mahoney, pp. 14-29) But as the French dilemma in Algeria worsened, Kennedy began to look like a prophet. And he also became an unofficial emissary to visiting dignitaries from Africa. (Mahoney, pp. 31-33)

    There is not one single sentence in the entire series about any of this. So how can one have any respect for its honesty or substance?


    III

    The program’s coverage of the 1960 race for the presidency between Nixon and Kennedy is pretty standard stuff. There is one exception to this, and it consists of something that is such an outlier that it should be noted. Commentator Tim Naftali states that the choice of Lyndon Johnson as Vice President was Joe Kennedy’s. Again, this is another attempt to somehow show the influence of their father on the lives of the Kennedy children.

    The problem with that declaration is simple. If one reads the two best insider summaries of the VP decision—by Arthur Schlesinger and Ted Sorenson—Naftali is wrong. The two strongest proponents of Johnson to Kennedy were Phil Graham, publisher of the Washington Post, and syndicated columnist Joe Alsop; particularly the former. (Sorenson, pp. 183-87; Schlesinger, A Thousand Days, pp. 41-57)

    Beyond that, courtesy of RFK biographer Larry Tye, the program obfuscates the split between John and Robert over the Johnson nomination. Bobby Kennedy clearly did not want Johnson on the ticket. He personally intervened in order to get him removed. (Robert Caro, The Passage of Power, pp. 136-38) This is an important part of the story that has to be noted, because of its later ramifications. Bobby’s backdoor actions deepened the antagonism between Johnson and RFK, and it presaged the coming split in the Democratic party after John Kennedy’s assassination. In fact, Jeff Shesol—who is notably absent from the series—wrote a book on the LBJ/RFK dispute and micro-analyzed this incident. It is poor history to ignore or minimize it, since it had such a negatively powerful impact from 1964 onwards—culminating in the disastrous Democratic convention of 1968, which helped usher Nixon into the White House.

    Upon JFK’s inauguration, the only cabinet appointment that gets any attention is Bobby Kennedy as Attorney General. Larry Tye says words to the effect that Bobby was the least prepared Attorney General in history. Oh, really? Herbert Brownell, Eisenhower’s Attorney General, was a state assemblyman for four years, and Chairman of the Republican National Committee for two years. The rest of his career he was a corporate lawyer. Homer Cummings, who served under Franklin Roosevelt, was the mayor of Stamford, Connecticut (population 50,000) and a state attorney in Fairfield (population 20,000). Bobby Kennedy had served in Washington as a criminal investigator in the Justice Department, and then a congressional counsel for ten years prior to being Attorney General. He had faced off and pursued some of the most deadly killers and organized crime members in America, e.g., Sam Giancana. His pursuit of the Mob in the Senate was unprecedented in American crime annals. His attempt to clean up corrupt labor unions was also unique. One could argue that it was Bobby Kennedy who really revolutionized both the position of Chief Counsel and the use of investigative techniques on Capitol Hill. In practical terms, what more could one ask for in an Attorney General?

    But this is part of the effort to portray the first year of Kennedy’s presidency as something less than anticipated. And if one considers only things like the Bay of Pigs invasion, and the construction of the Berlin Wall, then it can look that way. But it is what the program ignores that forms the really important part of JFK’s presidency.

    What Kennedy was doing that first year was what he had been speaking about for his previous nine years in Congress: altering America’s role in the Third World. It is why he had purchased 100 copies of the best selling book The Ugly American and given a copy to each senator. Because he believed so strongly in the book’s message, he then helped get the film made. Would that not be an interesting background story for the audience to hear? CNN didn’t think so.

    That first year he was reversing American policy in Congo and Indonesia. Again, the series had a good commentator for the former in Mahoney. They did not want him to talk about Kennedy’s support for Patrice Lumumba in the Congo, or how the CIA plotted to kill the democratically elected African leader before Kennedy was inaugurated. And since they ignored Kennedy’s great Algeria speech, they could not address an even more topical subject: Kennedy’s attempt to build a relationship with Gamal Abdel Nasser of Egypt. Foster Dulles had essentially burned that relationship because Nasser recognized China and refused to join the Baghdad Pact. Dulles then withdrew funding for the Aswan Dam, thereby giving Moscow a way to fill that breach. Which they did.

    Kennedy thought this was ill-advised for three reasons. First, generally speaking, he thought we could compete with the Russians in the Third World by peaceful means: befriending and aiding non-aligned, neutral leaders. Second, Nasser was clearly an articulate, charismatic leader who had a wide influence in the Middle East. Third, he was a secularist, a socialist and a progressive who directly opposed the Islamic fundamentalists, a force in the area that Kennedy feared. In fact, Nasser had members of the Muslim Brotherhood prosecuted, imprisoned and executed. (See Betting on the Africans, by Philip Muehlenbeck, pp. 122-40; also, this video)

    Would this not have been a fascinating exploration of Kennedy’s forward and revolutionary thinking about American policy in the Third World? And would it not have had powerful overtones for today’s conflict with Al-Qaeda? But it is obvious to the reader by now that scholarship, research, and new information is not what this program is about. So they discuss the debacle at the Bay of Pigs (code-named Operation Zapata). But they do not review what happened afterwards: that is, the appointment by the president of Bobby Kennedy to the investigating committee and his role in unraveling the real causes of the project’s failure. Namely that CIA Director Allen Dulles and Director of Plans Richard Bissell had deliberately mislead the president about the project’s chances of success. More precisely, they had never thought it would succeed; they were banking on Kennedy sending in American forces to avoid a humiliating defeat. Joe Kennedy then steered Bobby toward former Secretary of Defense Robert Lovett. Lovett explained how he and David Bruce at State had tried to get Dulles fired in the Fifties. When President Kennedy was informed of this he terminated the top level of the Agency: Dulles, Bissell and Deputy Director Charles Cabell. (James DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed, Second Edition, pp. 41-47) This CNN documentary presents not one word about Bobby Kennedy’s role in the aftermath of Operation Zapata, or President Kennedy’s decision to fire the three leading figures in the Agency.

    From the Bay of Pigs, the program jumps to the Mercury and Apollo missions. Again, this is depicted as a “win at all costs” ambition instilled by Joe Kennedy. And again, the program censors information disputing that characterization reported by one of their own commentators. Back in 1997, Tim Naftali co-authored a book about the Missile Crisis called One Hell of a Gamble. In that book he wrote that, as early as May of 1961, Kennedy did not want to project the Cold War into space. (Naftali and Aleksandr Fursenko, pp. 120-21) He thought it would be a good idea to propose a co-sponsored mission. Kennedy originally thought the whole space mission was way too expensive. Only when the Russians refused a joint proposal by Secretary of State Dean Rusk—at a time when the Soviets were clearly ahead in the space race—did Kennedy commit to the Apollo mission. And even then, he later tried for a joint mission to the moon. (Naftali and Fursenko, p. 351) Obviously, if one has a win at all costs attitude, one does not look to launch joint space projects in the midst of the Cold War.

    One of the most shocking omissions in the series is that, in the discussion of the Kennedy presidency there is not one mention of Vietnam. And when the subject is mentioned—during a later discussion of Bobby Kennedy’s presidential campaign—Evan Thomas gets both clauses of his sentence wrong. He says that somehow Bobby felt badly about this early decision that sent American troops into Vietnam. First of all, President Kennedy never sent troops into Vietnam. He sent more advisors, but he drew the line at sending combat troops. And he was recalling the advisors when he was assassinated. (James DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed, Second Edition, pp. 367-71) But its even worse than that for Thomas. In new evidence surfaced by author Richard Parker in his biography of John K. Galbraith, Bobby Kennedy was at the November, 1961 debates over Vietnam. Clearly arranged by JFK in advance, whenever someone would suggest inserting combat troops, Bobby would step forward and say words to the effect, there will be no combat troops in Vietnam.

    It is indeed unflattering when your CNN documentary comes up short in a comparison with Chris Matthews. In Matthews’ recent biography of Bobby Kennedy, he quotes his subject as saying in 1967 that his brother would never have sent combat troops into Indochina, because then it would become America’s war. (Matthews, Bobby Kennedy: A Raging Spirit, pp. 304-05) But further, as John Bohrer notes in his book, Bobby Kennedy was counseling President Johnson as early as 1964 not to militarize Indochina. (John Bohrer, The Revolution of Robert Kennedy, p. 70) This reveals that there was a split between Johnson and John Kennedy on Vietnam and RFK knew about it. CNN decided they did not want to delve into that, even though Bohrer is on for a very brief time.


    IV

    I could go on and on with an in-depth analysis of each and every issue brought up in this faux production. In the interests of length, I will deal more briefly with some of the other areas.

    Both Evan Thomas and Van Jones say that the Kennedys were not really interested in civil rights issues upon entering the White House. This is simply false and contradicted by the record. As journalist Harry Golden wrote back in 1964, John Kennedy was an advocate of a strong civil rights bill in 1957. He thought the bill proposed by Majority Leader Lyndon Johnson might be weak; but he voted for it anyway. (Harry Golden, Mr. Kennedy and the Negroes, pp. 94-95; see also Kennedy’s letter to constituent Alfred Jarrette, August 1, 1957) Kennedy said the same to an audience in, of all places, Jackson, Mississippi that same year. As Golden notes, it was these two instances that began a decline in Kennedy’s popularity in the South. But he did not hesitate. In 1960, he told his civil rights advisory staff that he was prepared to lose every state in the South at the Democratic convention in order to preserve a strong civil rights plank in the platform. (Golden, p. 95) As the fine historian Irving Bernstein wrote, between the 1960 election and his 1961 inauguration, President Kennedy asked his lead civil rights advisor Harris Wofford to write a detailed memo on how the issue should be attacked. (Bernstein, Promises Kept, pp. 47-48) This plan—made up of legal actions and executive orders—was what Attorney General Bobby Kennedy followed once he was sworn in. (See Golden, Chapter 6 and Bernstein, Chapter 3.)

    In other words, what Jones and Thomas are saying is, no surprise, simply wrong. In fact, in November of 1963, the Attorney General was penning a resignation letter because he felt his support for civil rights had been so prominent that he had lost the entire South for his brother’s 1964 campaign, thus endangering his re-election. (See the Introduction to John Bohrer’s The Revolution of Robert Kennedy.) As I have said before—and it is simply historical fact—in less than three years, the Kennedy administration did more to advance the cause of civil rights than the previous 18 presidents did in a century. This culminated in President Kennedy’s memorable national address on the issue in June of 1963. The Kennedys chose that time to go on national TV because—after Birmingham and Tuscaloosa—it was now possible to pass an omnibus civil rights bill over a filibuster in the Senate. And although the program says that the first draft of the speech was written by Bobby Kennedy, it was actually penned by his employee Richard Yates, who would go on to become a famous novelist. (Andrew Cohen, Two Days in June, pp. 287-89)

    The treatment of the Missile Crisis is so foreshortened and elementary that it would not pass muster in a senior high school class. None of the prior warnings that President Kennedy issued to Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev about placing offensive weapons in Cuba are mentioned. From the program, one would think that all the information that JFK got about the movement of arms onto the island in the months preceding the advent of the crisis came through the Attorney General. This is nonsense. The first person in the administration to suspect the Russians were sending atomic weapons into Cuba was CIA Director John McCone; this was a month before the low-level U2 flights captured clear photos of the installations. (William Taubman, Khrushchev: The Man and His Era, p. 554) The president had a hard time believing that Khrushchev would do such a thing in the face of his prior warnings—which the program leaves out. Another implication of the program is that it was Bobby Kennedy’s secret talks with Soviet Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin which forged a deal to get the missiles out. These were important, but Khrushchev had already sent a letter prior to the second RFK/Dobrynin meeting outlining a deal: he would remove the missiles if JFK pledged not to invade Cuba. The second meeting more or less formalized Khrushchev’s proposal. (Taubman, p. 569) The only new information in the treatment of the Missile Crisis is the confirmation that Jackie Kennedy never left the White House during the 13 days. She stated that if the worst happened, she wanted to perish with her husband and children together. Which throws a harpoon into the Mimi Alford story.

    And this leads to the Marilyn Monroe angle. The film shows the famous clip of Monroe singing Happy Birthday to Kennedy at his 1962 birthday party. Like many other presentations of the clip, it leaves out the following information. This took place at Madison Square Garden with a paid audience of 15,000 in attendance. The occasion was actually an excuse to stage a Democratic Party fundraiser, something Kennedy had done before. The reason there were 15,000 people there was because the roster of entertainers included not just Monroe, but Jack Benny, Danny Kaye, Ella Fitzgerald, Peggy Lee, Maria Callas, Jimmy Durante and more. In other words, some of the most famous comedians and singers in the world.

    For the previously mentioned essay in the book The Assassinations, this reviewer did a lot of work on this whole MM/Kennedys pastiche. This consisted of speaking to some people who were quite knowledgeable about her life—like Greg Schreiner, who ran her fan club in Los Angeles. Reviewing the rather wild batch of literature on the subject, I came to the conclusion that there was little or nothing there. It had become a cottage industry for poseurs like Jeanne Carmen and Bob Slatzer to furnish writers like David Heymann and Tony Summers with tall tales to burnish their tawdry books with. (See, The Assassinations, edited by James DiEugenio and Lisa Pease pp. 358-64; also this story)

    But these people never give up. After I wrote that article, a man named John Miner held a press conference in Los Angeles and said that he had unearthed long buried audiotapes of Monroe talking about her relationship with JFK. I did some work on Miner and found out he worked as a prosecutor for the Los Angeles DA’s office, helping with the Bobby Kennedy case. Having watched part of the 1996 civil trial of plaintiff Scott Enyart vs. LAPD concerning the RFK case—LAPD had lost or destroyed Enyart’s RFK crime scene pictures—I got a close look at how deep the cover up was within local law enforcement about that case. The defense witnesses were not allowed to leave the courtroom after testifying. At the rear of the room, near the exit door, each was debriefed by two men in suits. They were not allowed to leave until the debriefing was finished. One tried to and was forcibly jammed back into his seat. According to Enyart, when Deputy Chief of Police Bernard Parks testified, the courtroom was suddenly filled with officers and lawyers in order to get the message across.

    Understanding the above, authors Bill Turner and Jonn Christian revealed that the executor of the estate of the late William J. Bryan was none other than John Miner. To anyone who has studied the RFK murder, in addition to the above, this is crucial to understanding the depths of official malfeasance in that case. For as writers like Lisa Pease and Tim Tate have stated, Bryan is the prime suspect as the CIA/military associated psychiatrist who programmed Sirhan for his diversionary role in the RFK assassination. After Bryan died in a hotel room in Las Vegas, it was reported that Miner sealed off Bryan’s office and took possession of his personal and professional effects. (Turner and Christian, The Assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, p. 229) After studying Bryan’s career, I can state that there was a lot to conceal there. Miner was not taking any chances of it leaking out. Can one imagine anything much worse than a prosecutor in charge of the estate of a prime suspect in a murder case, one in which that suspect got off scot-free?

    Although the media trumpeted Miner’s find as being tapes of Monroe, they were not. There were notes on tapes Miner said he heard. And as blogger Michael Tripoli has written, there are some serious problems with these notes. Let me add this: Secret Service agents Clint Hill and Gerald Blaine have both said that there was no such Monroe liaison with Kennedy. And as anyone familiar with the Secret Service understands, they had no great love for JFK. (See report by TMZ of 10/16/17)


    V

    Before wrapping up the completely inadequate segment on the Kennedy presidency, I should add that another of the many omissions is one of the major domestic Kennedy presidency episodes: the Steel Crisis. I was surprised at this, since the illustrious economist John Blair called it “the most dramatic confrontation in history between a President and a corporate management.” (Donald Gibson, Battling Wall Street, p. 9) The only incident that rivals it was Harry Truman’s intervention in a steel strike ten years prior, but that was during the Korean War. The best I can do is refer the reader to the detailed study of this highly charged episode in Don Gibson’s fine book, Battling Wall Street.

    The program’s dealing with Kennedy’s assassination is equally sorry. From their presentation one would think that the greatest misfortune incurred in Dallas was the fact that, after the couple had lost their prematurely born child Patrick, their marriage relationship had improved. In other words, there is zero time spent on the worldwide epochal changes that took place after Kennedy’s murder: in Congo, in Indonesia, in Indochina, in Dominican Republic, and so forth. There is not a word of the impact his death had on the plans Kennedy had made for rapprochement with both Cuba and the USSR. In keeping with the schema of these omissions, there is also no mention of the reactions of both Fidel Castro and Nikita Khrushchev when they got the news of Kennedy’s assassination. Castro was stunned and said, “This is bad news, this is bad news, this is bad news.” When he got a second call, informing him JFK had died at the hospital, he said, “Everything is changed. Everything is going to change.” (Jim Douglass, JFK and the Unspeakable, pp. 89-90) When Khrushchev heard of the shooting he went into a state of shock. The next day, when he signed his condolences at the American ambassador’s residence, he appeared to be weeping. As his biographer, William Taubman wrote, Khrushchev needed Kennedy. Neither communist leader ever believed the official story about Oswald as the lone assassin. (Taubman, p. 604) In fact, Castro made a speech the next day in which he proffered his opinion as to what had really happened and why.

    This avoidance syndrome continues to be apparent as the program begins to address Bobby Kennedy’s reaction to the news of his brother’s death. The program deals with FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover’s calls to RFK’s home the afternoon of the assassination that alerted the Attorney General to his brother’s murder. But it only skims the surface of what he did that afternoon and a few days later. Like Castro, Bobby Kennedy immediately thought that his brother had been killed as the result of a domestic plot. He put calls out and confronted what he thought were the three most likely groups of conspirators: the CIA, the Cuban exiles, and the Mob. (David Talbot, Brothers, pp. 10-12) In retrospect, what is remarkable is how acute he was in this regard, since today, many knowledgeable people believe that these three were the real perpetrators—except they were working together.

    To put it more plainly: in disagreeing with the Dallas Police’s instant verdict and the emerging media whitewash, Bobby Kennedy was on the same page with both Castro and Khrushchev. A few days after the assassination, Bobby summoned longtime family friend William Walton to his home at Hickory Hill. He and Jackie Kennedy were waiting for him. They had a secret message they wanted him to convey to Bobby’s friend Georgi Bolshakov during Walton’s upcoming journey to Moscow. The message was that they both thought JFK had been killed by a large domestic conspiracy. Lyndon Johnson would not be able to fulfill President Kennedy’s grand design for détente since he was too close to big business interests. Attorney General Kennedy would therefore resign, run for a political office and then run for the presidency. When Bobby was back in the White House, JFK’s goals would be recovered. (Talbot, pp. 32-33)

    Again, the program had a suitable commentator to convey this gripping and revealing episode. Tim Naftali first reported it in his co-authored book on the Missile Crisis, One Hell of Gamble. (Naftali and Aleksandr Fursenko, p. 345) And again, I do not believe for five seconds the producers were not aware of this crucial exchange. They simply did not want this important information in the series.

    The program’s chronicle of what Bobby Kennedy did after his brother’s assassination is just as bad as, if not worse than, its severely redacted version of John Kennedy’s presidency. Once more, the producers loaded the dice. One of the best books on Bobby Kennedy is In His Own Right, by Professor Joseph Palermo. He is nowhere to be seen. The best recent book is John Bohrer’s The Revolution of Robert Kennedy. Bohrer is on the program for perhaps three minutes, maybe less. The series thus never goes into why RFK decided to resign as Attorney General in 1964.

    Bohrer makes clear that RFK quickly perceived what has been made evident by declassified tapes and memoranda: namely, that Johnson was going to both escalate and militarize the Indochina conflict. In doing so, he was knowingly going to reverse President Kennedy’s policy. (James Blight, Virtual JFK, pp. 309-10) The problem was that by 1963 Bobby Kennedy knew that JFK was withdrawing from Vietnam. For it was the Attorney General who supervised the rewriting of the report upon which the president based his withdrawal order, namely National Security Action Memorandum 263. ( John Newman, JFK and Vietnam, p. 401) As Bohrer notes in his book, Bobby Kennedy tried to discourage Johnson from his planned escalation as early as 1964. (The Revolution of Robert Kennedy, p. 70) This, plus the fact that Johnson invited the racist J. Edgar Hoover to the signing ceremony for the Civil Rights Act of 1964, was enough to convince him that Johnson’s promise he would continue with President Kennedy’s policies was not really accurate. As Clay Risen has revealed, it was really RFK, Burke Marshall, Nicholas Katzenbach and Hubert Humphrey who did the ground work to the get the bill passed.

    Instead of this relevant and important information, we more or less jump to Bobby Kennedy running for senator from New York. There is next to nothing in the program about what he did while in the Senate. None of the fascinating facets that are in Bohrer’s book about how Senator Kennedy stood up to the NRA, to the cigarette companies, how he wanted to repeal right to work laws which weakened unions. RFK’s trip to Latin America to see how Johnson had adulterated President Kennedy’s Alliance for Progress is slighted. This is the highlight of The Revolution of Robert Kennedy and Bohrer did some really impressive research in uncovering that remarkable story. Bohrer spends 24 pages explicating this journey south and showing how Bobby Kennedy was encouraging the peasants and the poor to stand up to the oligarchs running their lives. (Bohrer, pp. 231-254) He even encouraged a crowd in Brazil to march on the Presidential Palace. As you can easily discern by now, the series does not deal with Senator Kennedy’s other journey. That was to South Africa in 1966. Nor does it depict his famous Ripple of Hope speech made in Cape Town. This was the first time any American politician had addressed the apartheid issue in a public forum.

    The chronicle of Bobby Kennedy’s last campaign in 1968 is done without distinction of any kind. And that is bad, because RFK’s 1968 campaign for the Democratic nomination was really the last crusade of the generation of the Sixties. It was their last hope after the murders of President Kennedy and Malcolm X. Martin Luther King would not endorse either Lyndon Johnson or Senator Eugene McCarthy. After they had cooperated through Marian Wright on the Poor People’s Campaign, King was elated when Kennedy declared his candidacy, saying he could make an outstanding president. (Arthur Schlesinger, Robert Kennedy and His Times, pp. 911-12) So did Cesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta.

    Within three weeks, King was killed in Memphis. The program does show RFK going into downtown Indianapolis to calm a campaign crowd by delivering the news of King’s death. But there is very little about the remarkable California primary where, for the first time in the history of the city, the voter turnout on the poor east side was higher than the turnout on the wealthy west side, no doubt because RFK—backed by Chavez, Huerta and the memory of what he did for civil rights for African Americans—had given the poor and downtrodden a reason to vote. There is very little made of this before we cut to his victory speech and then his assassination. And needless to say, there is nothing said about what happened as a result of his death. To name just one troubling twist, Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger continued the war in Indochina for four more years. And they expanded that war into Cambodia and Laos. The Cambodian expansion caused the overthrow of Prince Sihanouk, the eventual coming to power of the Khmer Rouge, and a genocide that took the lives of two million more people. (See After the Killing Fields, by Craig Etcheson.) Combined with the current surveys on how many perished in Vietnam from 1955-73, that makes for a total of six million deaths after the murder of JFK. (See the Reuters report by Will Dunham of June 19, 2008) Somehow, CNN thought that Kennedy’s falling out with Frank Sinatra over his underworld connections was more important than that fact. That conscious editorial choice tells us much about what our culture has devolved into.


    VI

    The segments on Eunice Shriver and Ted Kennedy are almost too brief to merit discussion. Eunice Kennedy married Sargent Shriver and they both became integral parts of the Kennedy administration and the Kennedy legacy. Joe Kennedy hired the latter to manage one of the crown jewels in his real estate empire, the Chicago Merchandise Mart. After JFK was elected, Shriver was one of the prime originators of the Peace Corps, Job Corps and the Head Start program. He ran the Office of Economic Opportunity under President Johnson. He was then the Ambassador to France from 1968-70. At his funeral in 2011, Bill Clinton said words to the effect that Shriver set the bar too high for those in public service.

    Eunice Kennedy worked in the field of juvenile delinquency for the Justice Department. She then moved to Chicago to continue that work and also contributed her time to a women’s shelter. She was a major advocate for special needs children and was very important in making the Special Olympics a national program. If there was ever a wealthy couple that did more for those in need than the Shrivers, I would like to know who it is. They get nothing more than lip service.

    A small segment, comparatively speaking, is devoted to Ted Kennedy. Predictably, much time is devoted to the tragedy at Chappaquiddick. In preparing my review of the late Leo Damore’s work on this subject, I read several books on the matter. I found the most astute and honest one to be Chappaquiddick: The Real Story by James Lange and Katherine DeWitt. That book showed that, contrary to what Damore was selling, Ted Kennedy received no special treatment in that case. Clearly, Kennedy had suffered a severe concussion in the accident, This is why his doctors considered doing a lumbar puncture (spinal tap) to see if there was brain damage. It is also why he had to wear a neck brace for weeks afterward. (Lange and DeWitt, pp. 47, 72), The concussion caused his shock and retrograde amnesia. Kennedy got a suspended sentence for leaving the scene of an accident, and he and his insurance company paid an indemnity to the family of Mary Joe Kopechne for her accidental death. Lange, an experienced personal injury lawyer, wrote that this is pretty much what usually happens in a first time case with a record as clean as Kennedy’s was.

    But The Kennedys has to pile on. Randy Taraborelli now says that Joan Kennedy, Ted’s first wife, attended Mary’s funeral with Ted, and this attendance was somehow directly related to a miscarriage in her pregnancy. What the show leaves out is that Joan had suffered two prior miscarriages, and she had a mushrooming alcohol problem for which she later received numerous traffic citations and rehabilitation. It was a problem she could never overcome.

    The show deals with Ted’s loss in the presidential primaries to Jimmy Carter in 1980. But it deals very little with his great moments in the Senate: his defeat of Robert Bork’s nomination for the Supreme Court, his lonely, spirited defense of Anita Hill, his ultimately successful attempt to cut off funding for the Vietnam War, his assailing of Nixon and Kissinger for the genocide in East Pakistan (Bangladesh), his push for a settlement in Ulster, and his calling the Iraq invasion George W. Bush’s Vietnam. Without these kinds of specifics, it does not mean much to call someone a “great senator.”

    This program is really the end result of a trend I first noted in that 1997 essay in The Assassinations.. It is the combination of the tabloidization of our mainstream media with the desperation of cable TV to garner a wider audience. This pairing is fatal to honest reporting and/or scholarly research. In sum, this series is pretty much a worthless time-filler. It ignored good scholars on the Kennedy presidency like Robert Rakove, for People Magazine types like Taraborelli and Sally Bedell Smith, and mainstream hacks like Tye and Thomas. As I mentioned earlier, it was nice to see a few women commentators, but when they are as mediocre as the males, what does it mean to have them on?

    What this program really proves is the opposite of what it tries to show. When you have to censor and curtail as much material as this series did, it reveals that the true facts of what the Kennedy brothers tried to achieve poses as much a national security problem for the country as the true facts of their assassinations.


    June 16, 2018—Discovery Channel, of course, was behind the late Gary Mack’s attempts to reassert the discredited Warren Report with such shows as Inside the Target Car and JFK: The Ruby Connection. I do not think it is a coincidence that the people who try and cover up the facts of the JFK murder are also those who disguise who he was and what his presidency was about.

    Our reviews of Inside the Target Car (first in a series of five)

    Our review of JFK: The Ruby Connection (first of three parts)


    As an antidote to CNN, our slideshow commemorating JFK’s 100th anniversary presents a detailed examination of who John Kennedy really was and what he stood for.


    For both a 4000 word critique of another MSM toady on Bobby Kennedy, Chris Matthews, and an unexpurgated version of what RFK was really about, we refer the reader to this essay at Consortium News.

  • Ken Burns & Lynn Novick, The Vietnam War: Part Four (The Nixon Years)

    Ken Burns & Lynn Novick, The Vietnam War: Part Four (The Nixon Years)


    For all practical purposes it is not possible to separate out the last months of President Johnson’s stewardship of the Vietnam War from Richard Nixon’s. For they are intertwined around two crucial points.

    First, after the Tet offensive and during the siege of Khe Sanh, Johnson called a meeting of the so-called Wise Men of American foreign policy, retired eminences like Dean Acheson and Robert Lovett. Johnson brought in the military to try and explain how America had actually won the Tet offensive. Acheson walked out. When Johnson called him later to ask why he left, Acheson said he would not listen to any more canned Pentagon presentations. He wanted the raw data of the intelligence reports. LBJ complied and Acheson got the real picture of what was happening in the field. (Walter Isaacson and Evan Thomas, The Wise Men, p. 687)

    A couple of weeks later, Johnson told Secretary of Defense Clark Clifford to begin an in depth review of the war based on the real figures. After about two weeks of discussion, with Clifford asking the generals many probing questions, the new secretary came to the conclusion it was a hopeless military situation. (Isaacson and Thomas, pp. 683-89) As Clifford later said, “The Tet offensive’s size and scope made a mockery of what the American military had told the public about the war, and devastated American credibility.” (Carl Oglesby, Ravens in the Storm, p. 156) As a result of these two developments, Johnson decided there would be no further granting of General Westmoreland’s requests for combat troops. Shortly after, he removed Westmoreland and replaced him with Creighton Abrams.

    Nixon had heard about the Wise Men meeting and understood what it meant. In March of 1968, before the presidential campaign began, he told three of his speechwriters: “I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s no way to win the war. But we can’t say that, of course. In fact, we have to seem to say the opposite, just to keep some degree of bargaining leverage.” (Jeffrey Kimball, Nixon’s Vietnam War, p. 52)

    What makes that statement startling is the following episode. Realizing it was the end of the line, Johnson decided not to run again in 1968. When he announced this at the end of March, he said he would spend the rest of his administration, about ten months, trying to get a peace settlement. When the presidential race heated up in the summer of 1968, Nixon began to perceive this tactic as a way of aiding the Democratic candidate, Hubert Humphrey, LBJ’s Vice-President. Nixon decided to hatch a plot in order to stop Johnson’s negotiations from getting off the ground. With newly discovered files, writers like Bob Parry and Ken Hughes have filled in the outlines of this previously hazy conspiracy. The idea was to use sympathetic agents like GOP lobbyist Anna Chennault and Vietnamese ambassador to the USA Bui Diem to tell President Thieu in Saigon not to enter the negotiations. If he did not, he would get a better deal from President Nixon. The plot was successful. Thieu boycotted the negotiations, stymying Johnson’s efforts, thus backstopping Nixon’s narrow victory. (For a good article on the subject, see Robert Parry, “LBJ’s X File on Nixon’s Treason,” Consortium News, March 3, 2012; for a book-length treatment see Ken Hughes’, Chasing Shadows.)

    Nixon managed to win the presidency, but unawares to him at the time, he was sowing the seeds of his downfall. For, as both Parry and Hughes have noted, the real provocation for Watergate was not the publication of the Pentagon Papers. It was Nixon’s knowledge that Johnson knew that he—a private citizen—had illegally subverted LBJ’s foreign policy. This was a violation of the Logan Act. For Johnson perceived something was wrong with Thieu’s reaction. He decided to have the CIA and the FBI place surveillance on Nixon’s campaign, Anna Chennault, and the Vietnamese embassy in Washington. The result of this was that Nixon’s covert campaign was discovered. But Johnson decided not to go public with the information. When Nixon took office, J. Edgar Hoover tipped him off as to what Johnson had done. Nixon commissioned a study of where Johnson had stored the file on the matter. A young aide concluded (wrongly) that it was at the Brookings Institute. On one of the declassified Watergate tapes one can hear Nixon talking about firebombing Brookings, and sending a team in under the confusion to ransack the place to find the file. This caused the creation of the so-called Plumbers Unit in the White House. It was that unit which would break into the Watergate Hotel in the summer of 1972. Nixon resigned facing impeachment charges two years later because of that event. (“Fleshing Out Nixon’s Vietnam Treason”)

    The Burns/Novick documentary does a decent enough job on the above. It touches on these major points (except for Johnson’s Wise Man meeting). But it does not note two important subsidiary issues. Although Nixon acknowledged the war was lost before he entered office, he greatly increased air operations over both Laos and Cambodia. During 1969, Nixon increased bomb tonnage over Laos by 60%. (Jeffrey Kimball, The Vietnam War Files, p. 21) In Cambodia, the increase was even more radical. As William Shawcross noted in his bestselling book Sideshow, the leader of Cambodia in 1969, Prince Sihanouk, had allowed the Johnson administration to do small scale cross-border raids. This was to hinder North Vietnam’s supply route to South Vietnam, the Ho Chi Minh Trail, which crossed through Cambodia and Laos. But he never gave them permission to extend the war into his country, or to use sustained B-52 bombing. (Shawcross, pp. 70-71)

    This all changed under Nixon and his National Security Advisor Henry Kissinger. And Burns and Novick drastically underplay the change. In fact, they attempt to blur the difference between the two administrations. As Shawcross writes, by the end of 1968 there were about 4,000 of Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge rebels in Cambodia. (p. 73) Sihanouk had done all he could to walk a tightrope between Hanoi and Washington in order to protect his people and their social structure from the war, thus keeping Pol Pot at bay.

    This was not good enough for Nixon. During the first week of his administration he made Cambodia and Sihanouk targets of his war plans. (Shawcross, p. 91) In March of 1969, Nixon began secret sustained B-52 bombing attacks over Cambodia. As he said, “We’ll bomb the bastards off the earth.” (Anthony Summers, The Arrogance of Power, p. 333 ) And he tried. In the next 14 months there were 3,630 B-52 sorties flown over Cambodia. That bombing campaign drove the North Vietnamese from the border areas of Cambodia inward; but the bombing raids followed them. (William Blum, The CIA: A Forgotten History, p. 151) And this began to destabilize Sihanouk’s government. (Shawcross, p. 113) To protect his right flank, Sihanouk appointed General Lon Nol as his prime minister. The general staged a coup against Sihanouk. Lon Nol allowed Nixon and Kissinger to supplement their air war with an invasion of Cambodia in the spring of 1970. From here the Khmer Rouge exponentially gained in strength until Lon Nol’s government was under siege by Pol Pot. Nothing like that existed under Johnson, let alone Kennedy. Therefore, it is quite a stretch to blur the dividing lines.

    How much of an escalation in the air war was there under Nixon? Realizing in 1968 the war was lost, and later announcing a program of troop withdrawals in August of 1969, Nixon proceeded to drop more bomb tonnage over Indochina than Johnson had. And it was by a significant factor—over a million tons. (Kimball, The Vietnam War Files, p. 21)

    A good question could have been posed at this time in the Burns/Novick narrative. Knowing the war was lost, why was Nixon now spreading it further beyond the borders of Vietnam? The only way to answer that question would be to trace Nixon’s involvement with Ngo Dinh Diem and President Eisenhower back to 1954-56. (Actually before that, since Nixon appealed to President Truman to support the French cause in the first Indochina War; see David F. Schmitz, Richard Nixon and the Vietnam War, p. 1). Contrary to what Nixon liked to tell interviewers like David Frost, he did not inherit the South Vietnam problem. He helped create it—through illicit means. He did so, at the foot of his master Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, by breaking the Geneva Accords and not allowing unification elections. America then handpicked a homegrown, Catholic, English speaking leader, Ngo Dinh Diem. (Blum, pp. 138-139) CIA Director Allen Dulles then had veteran black operator Ed Lansdale rig the plebiscite that got rid of the French administration and installed Diem as dictator. (p. 139) The Agency furnished Diem a police force by training his security officers at Michigan State. As former Green Beret Donald Duncan wrote, some of these security measures comprised torture techniques against dissidents like lowering the prisoner’s testicles into a vise, and also waterboarding. (pp. 141-42. It should be noted, Burns and Novick imply that Americans did not do these things. A false presumption we will return to.)

    In other words, whether Nixon wanted to deny it or not, he was up to his neck in the creation of the state of South Vietnam. It would not have existed without the Eisenhower/Nixon administration. Foster Dulles, Nixon’s mentor, said in a rather famous comment, which the film ignores: “We have a clean slate there now, without a taint of colonialism. Dien Bien Phu was a blessing in disguise.” (Blum, p. 139)

    Yet, in spite of all this, one of the worst things about this series is that it tries to imply that three presidents fought the war: Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon. Utter balderdash. The fact is that when Kennedy won the presidency he was presented with this fabricated country, run by a Lansdale-chosen leader, who could hardly be less wrong for the population he was representing. And Diem was backed up by Pentagon advisors, and a CIA-run police state—replete with the infamous tiger cages—and tens of millions of dollars in aid each year. In introducing Nixon, the film ignores all of this. And, as I noted in Part 1, concerning the first Indochina War and the creation of both South Vietnam and Diem: Burns and Novick deliberately cut most of this out, including the mention of Lansdale’s name. They also excised the fact that Vice President Nixon was the first high level politician who proposed sending American combat troops to Vietnam, in order to bail out the French at Dien Bien Phu.

    In my opinion, this censorship is historically untenable. One has to fully grasp Nixon’s initial involvement in the conflict in order to understand his irrational actions upon becoming president. Partly because of his schooling at the foot of Foster Dulles, Nixon was an inveterate Cold Warrior, and would die as one. About the famous and serious Sino/Soviet border dispute he once said, “They are simply arguing about what kind of shovel they should use to dig the grave of the United States.” (Richard Nixon and the Vietnam War, by David Schmitz, p. 10) While campaigning for GOP Senator Barry Goldwater in the 1964 presidential election, Nixon said the war was part of Chinese expansionism into Southeast Asia, and if they won they would spread into Australia and New Zealand. (Schmitz, p. 12) In that campaign he also said LBJ was not aggressive enough and he should take the war into the north. (p. 12) In an article for Reader’s Digest, Nixon wrote that America losing in Vietnam would be like Neville Chamberlain appeasing Adolf Hitler at Munich. For, he added, the fate of all Asia relied on the outcome. (p. 13) In December of 1964, after Johnson won the election, Nixon now urged the expansion of the war into Laos and North Vietnam. For if we lost in Vietnam, it would risk a major war with Russia or China; we should therefore fight now and not later. (p. 14) Once Johnson did commit combat troops in 1965, Nixon said we needed more until the communists left. (p. 16) To say this all turned out to be wrong is not the point. It all turned out to be complete malarkey. This from a man who the MSM once framed as some kind of foreign policy guru.

    On top of that, there were his multiple trips to South Vietnam, four of them in five years. All while he was out of office. (Schmitz, p. 19) The one he took in 1964 is inexplicable. (Jim Hougan tries to explain it here.) In 1967, he met in country with Ed Lansdale and tried to encourage Johnson to mine Haiphong harbor. (p. 16)

    Then there was the Madman Theory. Foster Dulles called it the “uncertainty principle”. What it meant was this: you had to convince your foe that you were willing to go to previously unimagined lengths in order to persuade him you were irrational. (Jeffry Kimball, The Vietnam War Files, p. 55) He would as a result either capitulate or agree to unfavorable terms. The problem is that none of this worked in Vietnam; not the bombing of Cambodia, not the invasion of Cambodia, not the increased bombing over Laos, not the invasion of Laos, not the mining of Haiphong harbor, and so on. Yet even when the military saw that the torture and assassination program, Operation Phoenix, was not working and wanted to cut it back, Nixon insisted it be renewed. (Summers, p. 334)

    The fact was that the Cold War construct that Eisenhower, Johnson and Nixon bought into was faulty. The idea that there was a colossal communist conspiracy emanating from Moscow or Bejing (or both), that Vietnam was part of this plot, and if we did not stop them there then the dominoes would fall all the way to Hawaii: this turned out to be moonshine. And by 1957, State Department officer George Kennan—the man who made up the concept of containment back in 1946—deplored the contortions that his original ideas had undergone at the hands of the Pentagon, the CIA and hardline political hacks. But he specifically excluded President Kennedy from this pack. In fact, he liked working with JFK, and after he was killed, he had a “dismal foreboding for the future of this country”. (Click here) One of the most serious failings in this 18 hour behemoth is that the underpinnings of these horribly flawed ideas are never exposed. On the contrary, at times, they are even supported.

    Nixon and his National Security Advisor Henry Kissinger set up a series of secret negotiations in Paris in 1969. For a long time they did not go anywhere. The main negotiators were Kissinger and Hanoi’s Le Duc Tho. The latter saw through all the bluster that Nixon and Kissinger tried to throw at him. He told Kissinger in 1970 that Nixon’s Vietnamization program—the attempt to gradually turn over the war to South Vietnam as American troops left—was not working and would not work. He specifically mentioned the failure in Laos, and the previous failure of Johnson’s bombing campaign, Rolling Thunder. He then was quite frank: he told Kissinger that America had failed in Vietnam. (Jeffrey Kimball, The Vietnam War Files, p. 127) Hanoi’s representative made the following cogent observation: “Before, there were over a million US and puppet troops, and you failed. How can you succeed when you let the puppet troops do the fighting? Now, with only US support, how can you win?” (p. 127)

    Nixon was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. For his own political survival, he knew he could not keep American troops in Vietnam. He had to maintain his withdrawal schedule. It was the only way to at least partly neutralize the anti-war movement, which—contrary to what the film states—had a strong influence on what Nixon was doing. Jeffrey Kimball, the foremost authority on Nixon’s Vietnam policies, has clearly noted this. Prior to the giant October and November 1969 anti-war demonstrations—which took place not just throughout America but also around the world—Nixon had mapped out a multi-pronged offensive against Hanoi. It was a land-air-sea plan. It included, but was not limited to: infantry operations across the DMZ, air strikes at bridges near the Chinese border, and the mining of three seaports. It was codenamed Operation Duck Hook. It was so secret that not even Defense Secretary Melvin Laird knew about it. (Kimball, p. 101) Nixon had drafted a speech to announce this surprise offensive. But after seeing the size, scope and intensity of the protest movements, he called off the operation. He then changed his planned address to his Silent Majority speech. (p. 105) It was startling to me that Burns and Novick did not mention this strophe at all. Perhaps it was excised because one of the goals of the film was to belittle the anti-war movement, a point I will return to later.

    Richard Nixon fought to the end of his life to prevent any of his records from being released through the National Archives. There was real progress made on this only after he passed away in 1994. Today, it is apparent that one reason he fought so desperately against it was due to the nature of his many discussions with Kissinger on Vietnam. The tapes would have exposed his book on the subject, No More Vietnams, as a knowing deception. For instance, Nixon wrote that he never considered bombing the dikes in North Vietnam or using atomic weapons. As Kimball discovered, during Hanoi’s Easter Offensive, in spring 1972, Nixon considered doing both. (Kimball, pp. 214-19) Although their film discusses the Easter Offensive, Burns and Novick do not play this tape.

    But there was actually something else in those tapes and papers that was just as bad. Realizing the war was lost and that Hanoi would drive a hard bargain in Paris, Nixon and Kissinger decided to prolong the conflict for purely political purposes. Kissinger called this the “decent interval” strategy. (Kimball, p. 187) What it meant was that South Vietnam could fall, but only after America had left the country, the resulting perception being that America and Nixon had not lost the war, but that South Vietnam and President Thieu had. There were two motivating forces behind this construct. First, as Kissinger and Nixon both noted, Saigon had to fall after the 1972 election. If not, their political opponents and media critics would assail them with the question as to why they had stayed in the war for four more years. (pp. 138-39) Not only would this endanger them politically, but it would also give ballast to their dreaded enemies: the leftist media and intellectuals. As Kimball notes, Kissinger knew how to drive Nixon into a frenzy over this theme. At times Kimball describes a scene that almost resembles a folie à deux: Nixon would end up screaming and pounding the table over Vietnam. (p. 172) With so much time and emotion invested in a lost cause, Nixon was willing to prolong the hostilities in order to secure a second term.

    Related to this was what Nixon told his Chief of Staff Bob Haldeman: He was not going to be the first president to lose a war. (Summers, p. 337) Burns and Novick note the first factor, they ignore the second.

    And they understate how badly Nixon and Kissinger manipulated and then sold out President Thieu. When Thieu agreed to go along with Nixon’s 1968 plot to short-circuit Johnson’s bid for peace talks, Thieu went beyond the call. On November 1st, on the eve of the election, he made a speech in Saigon that was broadcast by all three American networks. It was a 27 minute address in which he declared he could not participate in the Paris talks, the implication being that they were politically motivated and would be bad for Saigon. Historian Teddy White wrote in his book about the 1968 election that if not for Thieu, “Hubert Humphrey would probably have won the election.” (See Nguyen Tien Hung and Jerrold Schecter, The Palace File, p. 28) Nixon speechwriter and conservative columnist Bill Safire agreed with that judgment. He wrote that because of Thieu’s assent to the scheme, Nixon probably owed his presidency to him. Safire then added, “Nixon remembered.” (Kimball, Nixon’s Vietnam War, p. 60)

    But he remembered only to a point. The most obvious indication of this was the fact that Nixon excluded South Vietnam from the secret Paris peace talks. Thieu was not told about them in advance and was not consulted on them. He was only given 1-2 page summaries after the fact. (Larry Berman, No Peace, No Honor, pp. 43-44, 69) This despite the fact that Nixon had told southern delegates to the 1968 Republican convention that America could not withdraw from Vietnam because it would be sacrificing an ally. Yet this is now what he was doing. (p. 47) In less than two years, Nixon had reversed his position. But it was worse than that. At a conference on Midway Island in 1969, Nixon had promised Thieu eight more years of support: four of them would be military and four would be economic in nature. (Schecter, p. 34)

    After two years of negotiations, and before his journey to China, Nixon made the secret talks public on January 25, 1972. It was at this time that Thieu was allowed to read the record of the twelve secret meetings that Kissinger had with Le Duc Tho extending back to 1969 (Schecter, pp. 47-48) What Burns and Novick do with this episode is odd. They imply that Hanoi thought Nixon—with an upcoming trip to Moscow also scheduled—was getting too close to their allies, trying to undermine their support. And this is why the Easter Offensive was launched at the end of March. This does not jibe with the record. It is true that Nixon was using these visits as a way to negotiate the war, but the record states that he was weakening his position. For instance, during his February 1972 China visit, he abandoned his demand of mutual withdrawal. America would complete its withdrawal unilaterally. (Schecter, pp. 50-51) In late March, Hanoi launched its Easter Offensive. In preparations for the May Moscow meeting, Kissinger told Soviet premier Brezhnev that Nixon would now accept a cease-fire in place, meaning troops from the north could stay in the south after the truce. (p. 58) This was a crucial concession, because Hanoi was determined not to repeat the mistake they made in 1954, which was surrendering their military position for empty agreements. Again, Thieu was not told about this key concession until afterwards.

    In spite of this, Nixon still wrote a letter to Thieu in October that said, “… we both seek the preservation of a non-communist structure in South Vietnam …” (Schecter, p. 73) Yet when Kissinger presented the draft agreement to Thieu, it only talked about Indochina as three nations: Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. (pp. 88, 108) Justifiably, he got extremely upset. And it did not help when Kissinger tried to explain this as an error in stenography. Thieu made a string of specific objections he wanted Kissinger to address with Hanoi, or he threatened not to sign the agreements.

    Here, the film had a good opportunity to elucidate the true circumstances behind the infamous 1972 Christmas bombing of the north.  Although Nixon threatened to enact the peace proposal without Thieu’s signature, he really wanted Saigon to sign. Without that, his recurrent rubric of Peace with Honor would ring hollow. For instance, Nixon once said in a speech in 1972, that his goal was “… peace with honor, and not peace with surrender in Vietnam.” (Schecter, pp. 116-17) This was false, and both he and Kissinger knew it was false when Nixon said it. They did not give a hoot about either peace or honor. What they wanted was political cover for the 1972 election. For in a taped conversation in August of 1972, Kissinger said to Nixon that all they needed was a way to keep the country together for a year or two beyond the agreement, after which “Mr. President, Vietnam will be a backwater, no one will give a damn.” (Ken Hughes, Fatal Politics, pp. 84-85) In fact, from the Chinese, Le Duc Tho understood what Nixon and Kissinger were angling for, since Kissinger had made the “decent interval” concept clear to Zhou en Lai. (Hughes, p. 86; also Kimball, The Vietnam War Files, p. 187)

    When Thieu expressed his reservations at signing, Kissinger went back to Paris with his demands. There were many, and Le Duc Tho said he had to take some of them back to Hanoi for discussion. Kissinger told Nixon that Hanoi was being obstinate. So Nixon used this as an excuse for the Christmas bombing. But the latter was really designed to convince Thieu to sign. It was Nixon’s way of previewing to him that, as he promised, should Hanoi break the agreement, he would bring swift retaliation. (Kimball, p. 275) The bombing dropped Nixon’s approval ratings eleven points in two weeks. And contrary to conventional wisdom, it did not bring Hanoi back to the table. Nixon had to ask Le Duc Tho to return. (pp. 279-80) Even then, he was reluctant to do so. He had to be convinced by the Chinese to go back. They told him that Nixon was now on the ropes; plus his political problems—the Watergate scandal—would considerably alter the situation within a year. This is what convinced Hanoi to return. (Berman, p. 221) The agreement was then signed on January 23, 1973. Nixon could now conduct his second administration without the Vietnam albatross around his neck.

    Needless to say, little of the above is elucidated in the film. And without that, one cannot really fathom the level and scope of Nixon and Kissinger’s deceit and duplicity. In their books—No More Vietnams, and The White House Years—both men denied there was any such “decent interval”. Knowing there was, Nixon deliberately polarized the country: left versus right, young vs. old, all before his phantasm of Peace with Honor, and aware the entire time it was all malarkey. Malarkey designed to guarantee his election in 1972 over George McGovern, and also to avoid saddling him with the stigma of being the first president to lose a war. This is why he so bitterly fought not to have his tapes and papers declassified.

    Did Burns and Novick soften their treatment of Nixon because, in one sense they employed his tactics? As anti-war activist Christopher Koch has noted, their film seems intent on doing what it can to belittle the anti-war movement, both its character and its impact. As Koch notes, at one point, the film intercuts young people dancing at Woodstock with soldiers in combat in the jungle. The film even gets one former protester to apologize for what she did back then on the (unpictured) charge that she called a returning vet a “baby killer”. The film does the same thing to Jane Fonda. They picture her topless in the film Barbarella, and then extract an unwise thing she said in North Vietnam. This is supposed to discredit the Oscar winning actress and discount the sacrifices she made to educate the public to stop the war.

    This is both unfair and untrue. As Koch notes, the vast majority of the anti-war movement respected and tried to help veterans. Mark Lane, for example, did much to organize GI coffee houses where lawyers would counsel returning veterans, or soldiers who had serious objections to being sent to Vietnam. (See Citizen Lane, pp. 232-49) Jane Fonda toured the country with former veterans and visited local colleges, addressing standing-room-only crowds. One of the things she did was have the former soldiers demonstrate the anti-personnel, three stage cluster bombs that the army was using in Indochina. I know this, since I was at one of her talks in my hometown of Erie, Pennsylvania. Cluster bombs are loaded with smaller bomblets that explode and scatter over an area as large as three football fields. (What is a “cluster bomb”?) Although the film shows many scenes of combat, these weapons are not demonstrated.

    Which relates to the film’s treatment of John Kerry. At first, Kerry is depicted as a courageous and eloquent young man uttering his famous phrase, “Who wants to be the last man to die for a mistake?” But then, when Kerry mentions some of the atrocities American soldiers had committed, Burns and Novick do something cheap but predictable. They cut to other veterans disagreeing with those descriptions. Of course, because the war was so polarizing, it is easy to find someone who would reflexively object to this testimony. Yet the evidence that such things happened is overwhelming. And the film ignores it all. For example, there is no mention of the Winter Soldier Investigation held in Detroit, Michigan in early 1972. There, approximately one hundred veterans testified by live broadcast into Canada about the many, many atrocities that they had seen or, in some cases, participated in. Were they all lying? Apparently Charles Colson of the Nixon White House did not think so. He composed a memo on methods to discredit these individuals because their testimony was so potent. (Lane, p. 218) He used the same tactic that, as I mentioned in part 2, Neil Sheehan used to discredit Lane’s book, Conversations with Americans. He got in contact with the Pentagon and they said some of these vets had never served in Vietnam. This was exposed as a lie. (p. 223. For a summary of those powerful, unforgettable hearings click here) Like the attack on Jane Fonda, the questions about Kerry are uncalled for and unwarranted.

    Further, in addition to stopping Nixon from launching Operation Duck Hook, there can be no doubt that the protests caused Congress to begin to cut off Nixon’s ability to prosecute the war at all. Within one year of the shootings at Kent State and Jackson State—where a total of six students were killed protesting the invasion of Cambodia—Congress had repealed the Gulf of Tonkin resolution. (McGeorge Bundy, “Vietnam and Presidential Powers” Foreign Affairs, Winter 1979-80) Contrary to what Nixon and Kissinger later said—and what the film parrots—that repeal had nothing to do with Watergate, since Watergate had not happened yet. Forced to come up with a new rationale for maintaining the war, Nixon now said he had to “wind up” what was already in process. As McGeorge Bundy explained, the reaction to Cambodia now forced the White House to explain the ongoing carnage. The “wind up” excuse was so feeble and inhuman, so condescending to Congress, that it was the beginning of the congressional movement to cut off all funding for the war. Bundy clearly elucidated that 37 years ago. If you can believe it, somehow the Burns and Novick research team missed it.

    Did they also miss the Golden Triangle? How could anyone researching the Vietnam War ignore Alfred McCoy’s milestone book, The Politics of Heroin in Southeast Asia. That book demonstrated that the CIA cooperated with Southeast Asian drug lords in shipping heroin to France, with some of it eventually arriving in America. And it showed that the leaders of South Vietnam, like Nixon’s forlorn friend Mr. Thieu, knew about it. Which makes sense since Thieu’s Vice President, Nguyen Cao Ky, actually participated in the drug trade. (Henrik Kruger, The Great Heroin Coup, pp. 134-35)

    The film’s last episode ends with the collapse of South Vietnam in 1975. Burns and Novick spend a great deal of time on this, but in this viewer’s opinion, it was done better in the 2014 film, Last Days in Vietnam. Better in every way: cinematically, dramatically, in conveying of crucial information, and in extracting the heroism involved. (Click here)

    At the very end, Burns and Novick reprise in a montage close to all of their witnesses. In an oft-used device, captions then tell us what they do today. One of them, Tim O’Brien, reads part of a book he wrote on the war. We then hear the classic Beatles ballad Let it Be. I am still trying to understand what this all meant. We know that these people survived and went on after, or they would not be in the film. Short of all-out nuclear warfare, that was going to happen; and happens in any war. Survivors often write books about their wartime experiences. The use of the Beatles song was quite puzzling: did this signify “Hey, look at these fine people who survived. It couldn’t have been all bad?” If that was the point, it did not work since many of the individual stories were not very memorable or exceptional. I could not figure out, for example, why Denton Crocker, who died early in the war, was even included. If this combination of music and montage was meant to be a tragic ending, it did not even come close. Yet that is what the Vietnam War was, an epic tragedy, especially for Vietnam.

    What I really think Burns and Novick were trying to do was perform an act of commemoration. Which might be why they do not go into the concurrent fall of Cambodia to Pol Pot in 1975. It’s well-nigh impossible to commemorate what Nixon and Kissinger caused there, which was one of the greatest genocides of the 20th century. And this is what makes the preface to the programs by Bank of America so offensive. Before each episode we hear and see the words that Bank of America is a sponsor of the show because “with perspective comes understanding.” This is a ridiculous statement, one that is simply not applicable to the study of history. Any true historian will tell you that perspective has little to do with understanding the past. And, at worst, perspective can seriously distort history. What helps us understand history is not perspective, it is the accumulation of important facts. As a famous Ivy League professor once said, facts are like sunshine, they illuminate events. Here are some facts Burns and Novick could have shown us that would have had the effect of klieg lights. In 1986, about ten years after the fall of Saigon, Vietnam opened its doors to American investment. About ten years after that, in 1995, Vietnam normalized relations with America. In 2000, Washington and Hanoi signed broad trade agreements. (Oglesby, p. 313) Which means that if Eisenhower, Nixon and the Dulles brothers had not violated the Geneva Accords back in 1954, Vietnam and America would have normalized relations by 1975. Probably sooner, since the awful residue of the war would not have existed.

    You cannot understand Vietnam if you spend about six minutes out of 18 hours on the Phoenix Program. And in those few moments you do not show the viewer the segment on that subject from Peter Davis’ classic 1974 film Hearts and Minds. In that unforgettable episode, Davis interviewed a military officer who knew about the program. He described a technique they employed to get information about the Viet Cong. The agents would take a group of communist sympathizers up in a helicopter. They would ask them to reveal information. If they hesitated, they would run the suspect up to an open door. If he still did not talk, they would run him up again. If that did not work, the third time they would throw him out. The officer ended with the words that, inevitably the next suspect would talk. For me, that 1-2 minute segment revealed more about the failure of American actions in Vietnam than this entire ten-part documentary did. In miniature, that interview showed why we could not win over the populace, because we had brutalized ourselves into barbarism.

    At the end of Hearts and Minds, Davis asked a returning veteran if we had learned anything from this horrendous experience. The veteran said he thought we were trying not to. Which turned out to be accurate. Because so few people knew and understood just how bad Vietnam was, George W. Bush was allowed to repeat the whole nightmare with his unprovoked war in Iraq. He made up his own phony Gulf of Tonkin pretext: the non-existent weapons of mass destruction (WMD). That war destabilized the Middle East, just as Nixon and Kissinger destabilized Cambodia and Laos. Except this time, the White House and the Pentagon did learn something. They learned not to conduct a Living Room War. They learned the secret of the “embedded correspondent,” like Judith Miller of the New York Times, who the military trusted so much, they had her still looking for WMD when they knew there were none to be found.

    The other lesson learned was by the media. They learned how to cooperate with power. The Vietnam War caused a rightward drift in America. After Nixon resigned, Gerald Ford took office. The Warren Commission cover-up veteran brought with him two young conservative firebrands: Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld. Those two did not care for Kissinger’s foreign policy. They actually considered him too moderate. Thus began the neoconservative movement. Which eventually took over Washington, including the Public Broadcasting System. The best evidence of that triumph is to compare the 1983 PBS series Vietnam: A Television History with the Burns/Novick version. The former is more honest, more hard-hitting, and more complete on the facts of the war. Much more rewarding than this newer version. And in a very real way, that comparison tells us how the Nixon/Kissinger view of Vietnam and the world eventually eclipsed John F. Kennedy’s.


    Part 1

    Part 2

    Part 3

  • Ken Burns & Lynn Novick, The Vietnam War: Part Three (The Johnson Years)

    Ken Burns & Lynn Novick, The Vietnam War: Part Three (The Johnson Years)


    Once The Vietnam War turned to Lyndon Johnson’s stewardship of the conflict, I immediately looked for several milestones to be elucidated. For what happened in regard to Vietnam from November 24, 1963 until August 10, 1964 were the most crucial contributions to the Indochina disaster since the creation of South Vietnam and the installation of Ngo Dinh Diem in 1955. The developments under Johnson allowed the conflagration to escalate to an entirely new level of violence, one that seemed unimaginable beforehand. Those events made possible both the giant air war—codenamed Rolling Thunder—unleashed over North Vietnam in March of 1965, and the introduction of American combat troops that same month. The first would lead to the explosion of more bomb tonnage over Indochina than was dropped over Europe and Japan during World War II; the second would culminate with 540,000 American combat troops in theater by 1968. There were no combat troops in Vietnam the day President Kennedy was assassinated.

    It was stunning to me to see how quickly the film moved from Kennedy’s assassination to the Gulf of Tonkin incident. This was an interval of about eight and a half months. The film glides through that period in about 14 minutes. And in those 14 minutes it portrays Lyndon Johnson as a kind of avuncular stumblebum who wants to transfer the war to the South Vietnamese so he can fulfill his ambitions on the domestic front. The only way one can present this foreshortened and ersatz picture is by refusing to consult the newly declassified record.

    To understand how this colossal—and ultimately disastrous—American involvement in Indochina took place, one has to go back to 1961. In May of that year, Vice-President Johnson went on a goodwill tour to Saigon. Counter to President Kennedy’s already stated policy, he recommended that head of state Ngo Dinh Diem ask Washington for American combat troops. (John Newman, JFK and Vietnam, p. 72) As we have seen, this was a Rubicon that Kennedy never showed any signs of crossing. And as we saw in our review of Part 2, the indications are that he would have rather evacuated South Vietnam than do so. Yet Johnson is requesting Diem do just that in the summer of 1961.

    A second key fact about Johnson is still enshrouded in mystery. As more than one author has noted, the Pentagon kept two sets of books on the progress being made by Diem in the war. One was announced to the public and press. This told the story that Saigon was doing well in its battle against the Viet Cong. But a second in-house set of books revealed the true facts: Diem was actually losing the battle. In some way, Johnson got access to that secret set of books in the spring of 1962. (Newman, pp. 225-29) Therefore, he knew that our side was losing. And that Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara’s forecast of the USA being able to start leaving the country in 1963 was really camouflage: PR to make the American exit easier.

    Those two facts help explain Johnson’s first meeting concerning Vietnam after Kennedy’s death. This occurred on November 24, 1963. As the advisors who were there noted, Johnson’s tone and attitude were much more militaristic, uncompromising and controlling than Kennedy’s. (Robert McNamara, In Retrospect, p. 102) For example, he said, “I am not going to lose Vietnam. I am not going to be the President who saw Southeast Asia go the way that China went.” He instructed the ambassador to tell the generals in Saigon “that Lyndon Johnson intends to stand by our word.” He then told those assembled that he had never been happy with American operations in Vietnam. (Newman, pp. 442-43)

    As previously noted about Part 2, Burns and Novick failed to mention NSAM 263. This was the order by which Kennedy began his withdrawal from Vietnam. It said that 1,000 advisors would be brought home for Christmas, 1963. Kennedy sent Robert McNamara out to announce this to the press. (Newman, p. 407) Which was fitting since Kennedy had appointed his Defense Secretary to supervise the withdrawal plan until its completion in 1965. Johnson not only ignored NSAM 263, he actually increased the advisors there to over 20,000. The film notes this, but does not note how that broke with NSAM 263.

    As this author mentioned in Part 2, some of the most important declassified documents of the ARRB related to Vietnam. And some of these specifically revealed what happened to McNamara after Kennedy’s assassination. Largely due to David Halberstam’s bad book, The Best and the Brightest, McNamara had been pictured as the architect of the escalation of the Vietnam War, even though the declassified record reveals that, from April of 1962 to November of 1963, he was implementing Kennedy’s withdrawal plan. For example, in a taped conference of October 2, 1963, McNamara says that after the American training mission in South Vietnam is completed, we can bring all our advisors home. (James Blight, Virtual JFK, pp. 100, 124) In light of this unearthed record, the question becomes: What happened to McNamara to alter his mindset on Vietnam?

    The answer to that key question is simple: President Johnson succeeded Kennedy.

    Johnson understood McNamara’s crucial role in Kennedy’s withdrawal plan. In order to turn him around to his different point of view, he began to work on him as only LBJ could. In a phone call, he told McNamara, “I always thought it was foolish for you to make any statements about withdrawing. I thought it was bad psychologically. But you and the president thought otherwise, and I just sat silent.” (Blight, p. 310) This statement not only confirms Kennedy’s withdrawal plan, but it tells us that Johnson opposed it. Later, Johnson went even further. He tried to get McNamara to make a public statement denying he ever really meant his declarations about withdrawing! (ibid) Which indicates that Johnson was trying to conceal a conscious upcoming break with Kennedy’s Vietnam policy.

    There is another manipulative statement Johnson made to McNamara that is probably the most revealing of all. He said, “Then come the questions: how the hell does McNamara think he can—when he’s losing a war—he can pull men out of there?” (ibid) That query indicates a revealing fact, and also a dividing line in attitude. It shows that Johnson was reading the Pentagon’s back channel reports about the true state of the war: namely Saigon was losing. Secondly, it shows that Johnson thought that Vietnam figured among America’s vital interests and it had to be defended at all costs. Because if we lost there, it would embolden the international communist conspiracy.

    This is exemplified by another declassified tape. President Johnson is talking to a reporter months before the Gulf of Tonkin incident. LBJ says of the option to simply withdraw that, if he did that, the dominoes would fall, and the Republicans would attack him as they did President Truman for losing China. (ibid, p. 211) Around this time, he even said the dominoes could fall all the way to San Francisco if Saigon collapsed. (Eugene Windchy, Tonkin Gulf, p. 302) Having listened to many, many tapes of Kennedy talking about the issue, this author has never heard him make those dire comparisons. But once he was out of office, Johnson went even further. He said to a writer that his losing Vietnam would have been like Neville Chamberlain appeasing Adolf Hitler. (Blight, p. 211) This illustrates the difference between the two men. Johnson was a classic Cold Warrior who completely bought into the Domino Theory. As National Security Advisor McGeorge Bundy told his biographer, that was not the case with Kennedy. (Gordon Goldstein, Lessons in Disaster, pp. 230-32)

    With all this elucidated for the viewer, what was about to happen can be much better understood. A couple of days after his first meeting on Vietnam, Johnson had Bundy alter the rough draft of National Security Action Memorandum (NSAM) 273. This document had been prepared at a conference in Honolulu a few days previous. Since he was visiting Texas, Kennedy had not read it. And because of what happened in Dallas, he never saw it. McGeorge Bundy prepared the NSAM 273 working draft. Johnson made three important changes to this document. The first allowed the USA to use its own ships to help South Vietnam stage attacks in the north (these would be codenamed OPLAN 34A). The other two made it easier to expand cross-border covert operations into Laos and Cambodia. (Newman, pp. 446-47) In other words, their net effect was expansive and escalatory. The first one—as we shall see—set the stage for the Tonkin Gulf incident.

    With McNamara now co-opted to his view of Vietnam, Johnson sent him to Saigon to tender his opinion on the true circumstances of the war. In late December, McNamara reversed himself from what he was declaring two months earlier. Instead of saying that the training period was almost over and we could withdraw, he now said that unless major changes were made it was likely the communists would take over soon. (Goldstein, pp 105-07) In January, two months after Kennedy was killed, the Joint Chiefs of Staff recommend air strikes and claim US forces are necessary against the north.

    On March 2, 1964 Johnson called Bundy and told him that after a meeting with the Joint Chiefs, he was thinking of escalating the war by letting American air and naval elements directly attack the north. (ibid, p. 108) But he did not want to do that without congressional support. In other words, in less than three months, Johnson was contemplating doing what Kennedy would not hear of doing in three years: inserting American combat forces into Vietnam. After sending McNamara to Saigon again in March, Johnson signed onto a report by his newly converted Defense Secretary that said the US should begin contingency planning for both “Retaliatory Actions” and a program for “Graduated Overt Military Pressure” against Hanoi. For all intents and purposes, Johnson’s agreement with this report closed off any hope of withdrawal or negotiated settlement. It was adapted as NSAM 288, and with its rubric of “retaliatory action” it foreshadowed what would happen in the Gulf of Tonkin. (Frederick Logevall, Choosing War, pp. 128-130) As Logevall wrote, McNamara’s 1964 militant approach was not really due to his own attitudes, but to his “almost slavish loyalty to his president. Lyndon Johnson had made clear he would not countenance defeat in Vietnam … .” (ibid, p. 127)

    In February of 1964, Johnson announced he was creating an Inter-Agency committee to consider future actions to take in Vietnam. Again, this is something that Kennedy did not do. Two members were William Sullivan from the State Department and Bill Bundy, who worked for the Navy but would soon transition to State. (Joseph Goulden, Truth is the First Casualty, p. 87; Windchy, p. 309) This committee suggested all kinds of escalatory actions, including Johnson making a speech in advance of direct American bombing of the north, then going to Congress for a resolution authorizing further actions. Their conclusion then was that Saigon needed direct American intervention in order to win. (Goulden, p. 88) The Pentagon picked out a series of targets—94 of them—to attack. A congressional resolution was actually drafted in May of 1964 by Abram Chayes, a lawyer in the State Department. Bill Bundy then redrafted it. (Edwin Moise, Tonkin Gulf and the Escalation of the Vietnam War, p. 27) After Bundy revised it, Johnson would occasionally carry it around in his jacket pocket. (Windchy, p. 318)

    By now, I need not tell the reader that almost none of the above information is conveyed in the Burns/Novick film. They deal with it all in about two sentences. In this author’s opinion, it is not possible to understand or place in context what was about to happen without knowing all of the above. For what was about to occur allowed America to directly intervene in Vietnam.

    With the above in place—the inter-agency committee, the rough draft of a congressional resolution, the 94 targets list, the concept of “retaliatory action”—all that was needed to trigger these prepared paths of action was a casus belli. After Kennedy was killed, President Johnson had greatly increased the scope and size of Special Forces actions. One of these covert operations was called OPLAN 34A. (Moise, p. 7) OPLAN 34A has been described as Republic-of-Vietnam-, i.e., Saigon-, sponsored attacks against the coast of North Vietnam. But as one participant said, they “… were not really an RVN program carried out with American assistance; they could better be described as an American program carried out with RVN assistance.” (Moise, p. 7) America purchased the boats for these raids, and it appears that America employed the navigational crews, but did not land with the actual assault teams. (Moise, pp. 15-16) As the raids crept north up the coast—attacking radar installments, shooting up security posts, boarding and hijacking fishing trawlers—Hanoi decided to beef up its defensive patrols in the Gulf of Tonkin. This in turn resulted in the attack boats being furnished with large caliber, tripod-mounted machine guns so they could fire from a distance. (Moise, p. 21)

    As the raids grew in number and variety, the Pentagon decided to use them for intelligence purposes and then use the gathered intelligence to map out future raids. Thus were initiated the DeSoto Patrols in January of 1964. They were performed with Navy destroyers, which were outfitted with extra communications equipment. Their mission was to take photos, make visual observations, intercept and translate Hanoi’s radio messages, and do radar tests up the Tonkin coast. In the summer of 1964, the two ships Maddox and Turner Joy were manning this mission.

    No one with any objectivity could deny that the patrols were related to the raids. In fact, the USA made possible, and was controlling, both. Further, it would be difficult to deny that they were meant as provocations. In fact, two holdovers from the Kennedy administration—George Ball and McGeorge Bundy—labeled them as such. (Moise, p. 100, 240) Yet, this is what the administration said about them afterwards. These raids had been going on for months. (Windchy, pp. 152-53) The DeSoto patrols began in January, and the two that would ensnare the US in the war were the third and the fourth. The Maddox had been in Tonkin Gulf when OPLAN 34A raids took place at the end of July. Hanoi gunboats had counterattacked those raids. (Windchy, p. 75) On that mission, the Maddox had violated North Vietnam’s territorial waters. (Moise, p. 68) For that reason, when new raids occurred 48 hours later on August 2, and Maddox was still in Tonkin, Hanoi sent out three torpedo boats to head her off. After an exchange of fire, the navy called in planes. The Maddox was virtually unscathed; it was hit by one bullet. The American air assault hit all three attacking vessels with machine gun fire. One of the torpedo boats was dead in the water and was rescued by the other two. (Moise, pp. 79, 83)

    The naval officer in charge wanted to discontinue the patrols. (Moise, p. 94) But Johnson personally approved another one. The idea behind this was to “show the flag” and not leave the impression Hanoi was facing us down. (Moise, pp. 104-05) But a key point that Burns and Novick leave out is this: there were further OPLAN 34A raids on the night of August 3! The Maddox, joined by the Turner Joy, were in the vicinity of those raids. This information was so sensitive it was kept secret until February of 1968. (Windchy, p. 169)

    The following evening, August 4th, was the occasion for the infamous “phantom attack” on the Maddox and Turner Joy. No one knows for sure what caused the crews of the two boats to start firing. It was probably a combination of tenseness, and misinterpretation of both radar and sonar signals. (See chapter 15 of Windchy for an analysis.) The bottom line is that it was a false alarm. There was no attack. But the message was sent to Washington that there was an attack. After August 2nd, Johnson had warned Hanoi not to fire again at American ships. He now quickly came to a conclusion on two key matters: 1.) He would retaliate, and 2.) He would present the already prepared resolution to Congress.

    This much the film presents. It does not present the amazing speed with which LBJ finalized those immense decisions. Johnson got news of an impending attack from Robert McNamara at about 9 AM on August 4. The first thing Johnson asked him was how fast he could put together a retaliatory air strike. (Moise, p. 211) Johnson then went down to McGeorge Bundy’s office and told him to bring up the congressional resolution his brother Bill had written. When Bundy suggested that they think about it first, the president tartly replied: “I didn’t ask you what you thought. I told you what to do!” (Gordon Goldstein, Lessons in Disaster, p. 126) As Alexander Haig later reported, after this, the air attack and resolution were faits accomplis. (Moise, p. 211)

    There are other points that should be noted that are lacking in the film’s depiction of these epochal events. The film says that Johnson was told the second attack had been “probable” when he made up his mind to retaliate. This is not really accurate. As noted above, McNamara, Haig and McGeorge Bundy stated that the news of the so-called attack had not even come in when Johnson had made up his mind. Burns and Novick further muddy things when they say that the ship officers misinterpreted Hanoi’s orders to prepare an attack for the actual order to attack. According to Ray Cline, the intelligence chief for the CIA and then the State Department, that is not the case. About seven years after the fact, he finally got to review all of the messages that came in from both ships that morning—with time stamps. He concluded that, without fail, they were all referring to the first attack, not the second. (Moise, p. 199)

    We next see and hear a pilot who was shot down during the retaliatory air strikes, code-named Pierce Arrow. The film does not reveal that a fellow pilot was actually killed in that mission. Burns and Novick also fail to mention a distinct possibility for why one pilot was shot down and became a prisoner and one was killed. The president insisted on going on TV to announce the attack. He wanted to get on in prime-time. When that was not possible, Johnson insisted on getting on at 11:30 EST before The Tonight Show. At that time, only four of the 64 sorties had been flown. In other words, Johnson’s announcement tipped off Hanoi. (Moise, pp. 217, 222; Windchy, p. 229; Goulden, p. 45) Burns and Novick fail to mention another interesting fact: the list of targets for the strikes was culled from the previously mentioned list of 94. In other words, everything Johnson did with Tonkin Gulf had been discussed and reviewed previously. (Moise, p. 211) None of it had ever been mentioned by President Kennedy.

    But there was one great advantage that the passage of the Tonkin Gulf resolution held for the president. And thankfully, the film does present this. It served as a great political asset that allowed Johnson to outflank his GOP foe Barry Goldwater on the one issue the Republicans could use against him. In fact, Johnson actually spoke out loud about this the morning of August 4th. Referring to himself in the third person, he said: “The attack on Lyndon Johnson was going to come from the right and the Hawks, and he must not allow them to accuse him of vacillating or being an indecisive leader.” (Moise, p. 211) As the film shows, Johnson’s approval ratings on his conduct of the war zoomed up by thirty points.

    The Gulf of Tonkin resolution was written in such a broad manner that it amounted to a side-door pre-dated declaration of war. In fact, in the planning for its passage back in June, Johnson’s inter-agency committee stated that they should submit it only “… if it could be passed quickly, overwhelmingly, and without too much discussion of its implications.” (Moise, p. 29) Further, they noted that if Congress asks if it is a declaration of war, they should reply that it really was not. (p. 227) It was so broadly written, it also allowed American troops to enter Laos and Cambodia. (Goulden, p. 13)

    In the administration’s reports and testimony to the Senate, either by mistake or on purpose, the White House was deceptive. For instance, they called the first attack entirely unprovoked. They said the Maddox was there on a “routine patrol”, like hundreds the US Navy does around the world. (Goulden, pp. 26, 28) The White House also claimed there was no violation of territorial waters; the Maddox and Turner Joy were anywhere from 30-60 miles away from those waters. (p. 39) The White House reported that the torpedo boats had illuminated the Turner Joy, hinted there were North Vietnamese aircraft in the sky, and that the other side fired the first shot on August 2nd. (ibid) The White House denied there was any connection between the two American destroyers and the South Vietnamese raids. (p. 61) When asked the reason why Hanoi attacked, Secretary of State Dean Rusk escaped into pure Cold War boilerplate. He said there was no satisfactory explanation for the attacks since the communists see the world differently from us and it is “very difficult to enter each other’s minds …” (p. 43) I wish the film had mentioned all of this, because it was the beginning of Johnson’s credibility gap. But it was largely because of these false claims that the resolution was passed in both houses of Congress with only two dissenting votes. (Click here for an article updating Cline’s work with more documents)

    With the resolution passed, and the election pretty much over, Johnson was then able to begin to militarize the conflict. At the same time, he was on the campaign trail saying things like: “We don’t want our American boys to do the fighting for Asian boys” and “We seek no wider war”. (Goulden, pp. 38, 164) As one official admitted off the record, “Tonkin saved the war for us. It was a little raft that kept us afloat from the summer of 1964 through the election, when Mr. Johnson felt the political freedom to make the decisions he made.” (Windchy, p. 317) As more than one author has noted, scores of planes now began to be sent to Vietnam from Thailand. (Goulden, p. 236; Windchy, p. 240) Around this time, air bases were built at DaNang and Bien Hoa. (Windchy, p. 313) When the latter base was attacked by Viet Cong guerrillas on November 1, 1964, it marked the start of a small wave of these assaults culminating in the attack on Pleiku in February. McGeorge Bundy was in Vietnam at the time. Just prior to Pleiku, he began to compose a famous message to Johnson that was later called the “Fork in the Road Memo”. Dated January 27, 1965, it mapped out two paths of action to the rising attacks on American installations. One was to retaliate and marshal forces against Hanoi, the other was to negotiate a way out. In the memo, Bundy wrote that he and Robert McNamara favored the former, and Johnson agreed. He ordered another retaliatory attack on the north. (Goldstein, p. 156) In the next month, this led to 1.) Operation Rolling Thunder, a titanic air campaign over North Vietnam that would last for almost four years, and 2.) The landing of combat troops at DaNang a few days later. General Maxwell Taylor strongly disagreed with the troop landing. He said that the natural tendency would be to expand that mission from protecting the air bases to an offensive mode. Which is what happened two weeks later. (Goldstein, pp. 164-169) By the end of 1965, Johnson had committed over 175,000 American ground troops into theater.

    What is so remarkable about this commitment is not just its speed, but the fact that, a week before it began, Johnson had been warned by Army Chief of Staff Harold Johnson that it would take a half million combat troops five years to win the war. (Goldstein, p. 165) Sure enough, by 1967 Johnson had 525,000 men in Vietnam.

    Johnson had appointed William Westmoreland as the commanding general in Vietnam. Westmoreland decided on a strategy of attrition. That is, by employing an enormous amount of American firepower, his forces would kill so many more of the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese regulars that they would have to sue for peace. That strategy was unsuccessful for two reasons. First, it failed to account for the inventive and imaginative methods the Viet Cong could use to counter that firepower advantage. Second, it did not allow for the many ways Hanoi could ship more replacement troops into the south.

    But there was a third reason the strategy failed. The film barely touches upon it, yet it was crucial, since both the first commander, Paul Harkins, and Westmoreland used it: the body count figures were fudged. (John Newman, JFK and Vietnam, pp. 288, 298-99; John Ranelagh, The Agency, pp. 456-57) This was done in a number of ways: sometimes by not updating intelligence estimates; sometimes by pure fraud, e.g., creating operations that did not happen. Or, as Nick Turse shows in his book Kill Anything that Moves, at times it was done by adding thousands of civilian deaths to the enemy combatant column.

    When Johnson submitted the Gulf of Tonkin resolution to the Senate, he had his friend William Fulbright of Arkansas manage its passage through the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. By early 1966, Senator Fulbright suspected he had been conned by Johnson. He decided to hold public hearings on the conduct of the war. What Burns and Novick do with the Fulbright hearings shows us what is wrong with their film.

    Fulbright decided to hold the hearings not only because of what was happening with the escalation in Vietnam, but because he had discovered that Johnson had lied to him about the reasons the United States sent 25,000 Marines into the Dominican Republic in 1965. Johnson had said that the communist forces had decapitated hundreds of innocent civilians and that the insurgents had fired bullets into the embassy. (Goulden, p. 166) Fulbright’s committee had done a study after the Marines had joined the military-backed government to subdue the backers of former president Juan Bosch. The study had proven not only that the above statements by Johnson were false, but that the president had vastly overstated the number of communists backing Bosch. (Windchy, p. 40) Further, that the lie about American nationals being endangered was a cover story for sending in the Marines. Fulbright had concluded the intervention was not necessary and it was also unwise. (Windchy, p. 41; see also Goulden, pp. 165-67)

    It should be added here: like Vietnam, the Dominican Republic was another example of Johnson reversing a Kennedy policy. In 1963, Kennedy had begun a series of diplomatic maneuvers to isolate the military junta that had overthrown the democratically elected presidency of Juan Bosch. Inspired by Kennedy, other nations had followed. This momentum had allowed the Bosch forces to grow and actually threaten to take back the presidency. Johnson closed the door on this with this fraudulently motivated intervention. (Donald Gibson, Battling Wall Street, pp 78-79)

    Fulbright, a Democrat who Kennedy seriously considered as his Secretary of State, then gave a speech that exposed Johnson’s handling of the Dominican Republic. Fulbright hesitated to give the speech. But one of his advisors sent him the following memo, which crystallizes what was happening in America. Carl Marcy wrote that a review of developments of the last 24 months helped to explain what happened to

    … turn the liberal supporters of President Kennedy into opponents of the policies of President Johnson, and the rightwing opponents of Eisenhower and Kennedy into avid supporters of the present administration. … We have tried to force upon the rest of the world a righteous American point of view which we maintained is the consensus that others must accept. Most of the tragedies of the world have come from such righteousness. (Goulden, p. 166)

    When Senator Fulbright began to hold his hearings, CBS decided to cover them on a daily basis. That is, they pre-empted regular programming. The man most responsible for this daring move was executive producer Fred Friendly. Friendly thought this could be a good opportunity for Americans to see how democracy actually worked and to partake in a debate over what was becoming a controversial war.

    One of the first witnesses Fulbright called was former diplomat-turned-historian George Kennan. Johnson knew that Kennan would be a potent witness against the war, because he was immune to the tactics the president was using: branding his critics as commie symps. The reason that would not work with Kennan is because in 1946, while diplomatically stationed in Russia, Kennan had been the author of the famous Long Telegram from Moscow. That 8,000-word memo outlined the philosophy of containment, which the USA would follow for the next 40 years in its relations with the USSR. But Kennan did not agree with starting wars in places that posed no threat to the national security of America. He compared them to an elephant being frightened by a mouse. Burns and Novick tell us that, for whatever reason, CBS decided not to air Kennan’s testimony on its network—the implication being that this was a failure of nerve on the part of the media.

    That is wrong. And I do not for five seconds think that Burns and Novick did not know it was wrong. What really happened was this: Johnson called up the president of CBS, Frank Stanton, and browbeat him into not showing Kennan! (Randall B. Woods, Fulbright: A Biography, p. 405) In my opinion, this is a serious alteration of the record. It somehow blames the media for something that they would not have done on their own. And it softens the image of Johnson, who was becoming more and more unstable as he was being attacked for his huge escalation of the war. One would think that film-makers who work through television would be sensitive to something like that.

    But as alluded to above, Johnson did not just try to neutralize Kennan. He wanted to brand the whole anti-war movement as communist-inspired. As the film notes, he called in both Richard Helms and J. Edgar Hoover, Directors of the CIA and FBI, and told them to come up with some dirt relating these protesters to Moscow or Bejing. (Church Committee, Book 3, p. 681; James K. Davis, Spying on America, p. 132) These attempts were unsuccessful; but they were terribly damaging in the long run, because, given permission to do such things, those forays evolved over time into the CIA’s MH/CHAOS program, and greatly expanded the FBI’s COINTELPRO project. Both of them involved massive surveillance of leftist groups in America. And the surveillance often turned into operations to undermine those groups. The film leaves that out.

    Burns and Novick mention the split the war caused between Johnson and Martin Luther King. It does not mention the fact that as King grew more vocal in his objections, Johnson struck out at him also. He began to play the so-called “sex tapes” that the FBI had put together for Hoover as a way of driving King to take his own life. Johnson had offered them to certain journalists while entertaining them in the White House. (Curt Gentry, J. Edgar Hoover: The Man and the Secrets, p. 574) When Vice-President Hubert Humphrey argued against escalating in 1965, Johnson became enraged and barred him from future meetings on Vietnam. He actually wanted surveillance placed on Humphrey to see who he was talking to. (Goldstein p. 162)

    The film also tries to imply that Johnson conducted the war only in cooperation and agreement with his advisors. As we have seen with Humphrey, that is not really true. Johnson ended up overriding his advisors. And one by one, they started leaving: Pierre Salinger, Ken O’Donnell, George Ball, McGeorge Bundy, and finally, Robert McNamara were all gone by 1967. They all ended up disagreeing with Johnson’s war policy. And O’Donnell later wrote a book with Dave Powers where he specifically stated that Johnson had broken with Kennedy’s policy on Vietnam. (Ken O’Donnell & David Powers, Johnny, We Hardly Knew Ye, pp. 14-18) As McGeorge Bundy found out, the so-called troop escalation debates were crafted in advance. Johnson had a secret telegram channel with Westmoreland in Saigon. When the general would make a troop request, LBJ would approve it. The president would then call in his advisors for a meeting whose conclusion had already been ordained. (Goldstein, pp. 214-15)

    When taken with a wider lens, the picture Burns and Novick try to focus of Johnson is not really accurate or complete. The portait of Johnson drawn by the film is—to use a literary analogy—sort of like Arthur Miller’s Willy Loman: a blustering, but somewhat sympathetic elderly man who stumbles into an unforeseen mess.

    This author would use two other literary comparisons: Captain Ahab and Macbeth. Ahab for the years 1963-65 and Macbeth for 1966-68. As we have shown with a surfeit of evidence, Johnson thought he knew and understood Vietnam and the Cold War better than Kennedy. So he immediately began to overturn his predecessor’s policy there. As he did so, he tried to hide the evidence of his reversal. Once he was elected in November of 1964, he began his full attack on Vietnam. Which turned into an epic tragedy for both Vietnam and America. In fact, what happened in Vietnam—short of atomic weapons—was probably the worst that could have happened. When Johnson saw how wrong he was, he turned into the Shakespearean character: striking out, and attempting to neutralize all those who opposed and criticized him. Until almost everyone had deserted him.

    As depicted in Athens or at the Globe Theater, with tragedy there is always an element of both rage and violence. Johnson assiduously worked to spring his own trap on himself. And that is what is missing from this film.


    Part 1

    Part 2

    Part 4

  • Ken Burns & Lynn Novick, The Vietnam War: Part Two

    Ken Burns & Lynn Novick, The Vietnam War: Part Two


    nsam 263 nyt


    When I saw that the Koch Brothers were major backers of The Vietnam War, I suspected that Ken Burns and Lynn Novick were not going to use any of the newly declassified files concerning President Kennedy and his plans for withdrawing from Vietnam. I have been exposed to enough literature and discussion from the wealthy, organized Right to understand that the mere mention of Kennedy’s name causes something akin to bug-eyed rage. But I hoped against hope that the film would at least be fair to President Kennedy. Well, Burns and Novick might be decent people, but the best I can say about them in this regard is that they were not going to bite the (many) hands that feed them.

    In Part One, Burns and Novick noted Kennedy’s visit to Saigon in 1951. And they mention his meeting with a journalist there, Seymour Topping. Like Kennedy’s meeting at the time with State Department official Edmund Gullion, Topping told the congressman that the French effort there was not winning, but losing the war. And the image of the US paled badly in the eyes of many Vietnamese because they were allied with the colonizers. The film then depicts Kennedy writing a letter to his constituents about the wrong-headedness of the American position, which would likely become a lost cause.

    As with the Burns and Novick attempt to camouflage through anonymity the perpetrators behind direct American involvement in Vietnam, this strophe discounts the record to the breaking point. To elucidate just one element: Kennedy did not write just one letter to his constituents about our ill-fated alliance with France. That visit to Saigon had a transformational impact on his entire view of European colonialism in the Third World.

    As Richard Mahoney depicted in his landmark book JFK: Ordeal in Africa, Kennedy now began to make radio addresses and formal speeches attacking the orthodoxies of both political parties on the issues of anti-communism versus nationalism in the Third World. He became a veritable one-man band warning that the United States had to stand for something more than just anti-communism in the Third World. He did this at the risk of alienating the leaders of his own party, e.g., Dean Acheson and Adlai Stevenson. He specifically attacked Acheson’s State Department for not recognizing the needs and aspirations of the people they were supposed to be serving in the areas of Africa and Asia. (Mahoney, p. 15) In May of 1953, with the French defeat in sight, Kennedy wrote a letter to John Foster Dulles asking him 47 questions about what his policy was for future American involvement in Indochina. (ibid) When Nixon was lobbying Congress about Operation Vulture, Kennedy assailed it by asking how “the new Dulles policy and its dependence upon the threat of atomic retaliation will fare in these areas of guerilla warfare.” (ibid, p. 16)

    About one month before Dien Bien Phu fell, Kennedy took the floor of the Senate to make a long speech about America in Indochina. He began by saying the US could not declare war on nationalism:

    To pour money, material and men into the jungles of Indochina without at least a remote prospect of victory would be dangerously futile … no amount of American military assistance in Indochina can conquer an enemy which is everywhere and at the same time nowhere, an enemy of the people, which has the sympathy and covert support of the people. (ibid)

    It’s important to note that although Burns and Novick use Kennedy’s phrase about the Viet Minh being everywhere and nowhere, they do not attribute it to him.

    JFK’s opposition to the Dulles/Nixon/Eisenhower backing of French colonialism in the Third World culminated in 1957. In a famous Senate speech, Kennedy assailed the administration for its backing of another French colonial war, this time in Algeria. In that speech, Kennedy reminded his colleagues of two things. First, that what had happened in Indochina three years previous was now repeating itself on the north coast of Africa: We were backing a fey French effort to preserve the remnants of an overseas empire. And second, we were not being a true friend to our French ally. A true friend would have counseled Paris to negotiate an Algerian settlement allowing for an orderly departure, thus sparing more bloodshed in Africa and further polarization of the homeland. (ibid, pp. 20-22)

    It is hard for this writer to believe that Burns and Novick are not aware of that speech, for the simple reason that it created a mini-firestorm in both the press and at the White House. Kennedy specifically went after Secretary of State John Foster Dulles and Vice-President Richard Nixon. There were 138 editorial comments on the speech, over 2/3 of them negative. (ibid, p. 21) Kennedy was not just personally counter-attacked by Foster Dulles and Nixon, but by Stevenson and Acheson—members of his own party. The reaction was so violent that Kennedy told his father that he might have made a costly error. But Joe Kennedy replied to his son that he did not know how lucky he was. Algeria was going to get worse, and he would then look like a prophet. Which is what happened.

    That speech dealt with one of the same subjects that The Vietnam War deals with: the perils of America allying itself with French imperialism. One would therefore think that Burns and Novick should have noted it, especially because it fills in the background of what Kennedy did in Vietnam once he became president. It is not noted at all. Kennedy’s lonely six-year campaign to alert members of each political party to the importance of this issue, and the folly of what Eisenhower and his administration were doing—all this is reduced to one letter.

    When I saw what the film had done with this clear record, I began to wonder what Burns and Novick were going to do with the pile of new documents that had been released on the Kennedy administration and Vietnam since 1994 and the advent of the Assassination Records Review Board. Those hundreds of pages of documents, plus the research done on the subject by several authors and essayists, has created a whole new lens to look at this issue through. But when I saw that the film had almost completely muzzled Kennedy’s background on the issue, I then thought there were two paths left for the film to follow in regards to Kennedy and Vietnam. The first would be to introduce this newly declassified material out of left field, thereby making it rather jarring to the viewer; the likely reaction being: “Gosh, where is this guy coming from?” The second avenue would be simply to ignore this new scholarship and act as though it did not exist. Unsurprisingly, The Vietnam War took the latter path.

    As Kennedy himself noted on the eve of the Democratic convention in 1960, he had to win the nomination. If he lost, and either Lyndon Johnson or Stu Symington won, it would just be more of John Foster Dulles. (Philip Muehlenbeck, Betting on the Africans, p. 37) George Ball, the iconoclast who worked for Kennedy in the State Department, later commented on the president’s reformist ideas by saying that JFK wanted to change the dynamic in the Third World. He thought that we should not cede the nationalist cause to the Soviets, we should not automatically befriend the status quo. By doing that we gave the advantage to the Russians. (ibid, p. xiv)

    Authors like Mahoney, Philip Muehlenbeck, Robert Rakove, and Greg Poulgrain have written entire books based upon new research into this subject. This new scholarship demonstrates how President Kennedy almost immediately broke with the Dulles/Eisenhower regime in places like the Congo and Indonesia. Again, using the above authors’ work would have demonstrated that what Kennedy was about to do in Vietnam was pretty much of a piece with his foreign policy in the Third World. Burns and Novick present not a word of it.

    What do they present instead? Kennedy as some kind of conflicted Cold Warrior. They cherry-pick parts of his inaugural address in order to do this. They then say that after the Bay of Pigs, his confrontation with Nikita Khrushchev in Vienna and the construction of the Berlin Wall, Kennedy felt he had to draw the line somewhere, and that place was Vietnam. So after sending Walt Rostow and Maxwell Taylor to Saigon to gather information on what the conditions were like there, Kennedy then commissioned thousands more advisors into the theater.

    In doing so, the film pretty much eliminates the entire two-week debate in the White House where Kennedy faced off against virtually his entire cabinet and foreign policy advisors. As authors like James Blight have noted, for those two weeks, virtually every other voice in the room wanted to commit combat troops into Vietnam. The president was the only person holding the line against it. In Blight’s book Virtual JFK—co-edited with Janet Lang and David Welch—he spends over forty pages dealing with this landmark episode. And he produces the memorandum by Colonel Howard Burris (Johnson’s military aide) which memorialized Kennedy’s arguments against inserting combat troops. (Blight, pp. 281-83) These arguments included the facts that Vietnam was not a clear cut case of aggression as was Korea; America’s most important allies—like England—would not support such a move; the French effort, with hundreds of millions of dollars, had failed; combat troops would not be effective against guerillas and, in fact, would be quite vulnerable to attack. To say the least, Kennedy’s arguments look prescient today.

    As Gordon Goldstein pointed out in his valuable book on McGeorge Bundy, this was not the first time Kennedy had turned down a request to send combat troops into Vietnam. Goldstein listed no less than nine previous instances in which Kennedy had rejected such proposals before the November debates. (Lessons in Disaster, pp. 52-58) As both Blight and Goldstein concluded, this was a Rubicon that Kennedy simply would not cross. And, in fact, National Security Advisor Bundy agreed with his biographer Goldstein on this issue: Kennedy was not going to commit American combat troops to fight a guerilla war in the jungle. (ibid, p. 235)

    Of further note, when George Ball heard about this debate and Kennedy’s lonely stance against the interventionists, he thought the president might be weakening and warned him of what happened to France in Vietnam the decade before. Kennedy replied, “You’re crazier than hell George. That just isn’t going to happen.” (Goldstein, p. 62) And McGeorge Bundy, Robert McNamara, and General Maxwell Taylor—Kennedy’s three chief military advisors—all later wrote that Kennedy was never going to send the military in the form of combat troops into Vietnam. (Blight, p. 365; Goldstein, pp. 231, 238)

    As the film notes, after the debate, Kennedy did sign off on National Security Memorandum (NSAM) 111. This allowed for more advisors and equipment to aid Diem’s army called the ARVN [Army of the Republic of Vietnam]. A good question could have been raised at this point. During the lengthy debate, the Hawks had expressed their pleas in the most dire terms: namely, that South Vietnam would collapse without the insertion of combat troops—and lots of them. Bundy had requested tens of thousands, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara had asked for hundreds of thousands. (Blight, p. 71, p. 280) If such was the case, how was Kennedy’s plan to send in more advisors going to salvage Saigon’s imminent fall?

    There is a parallel here with the failed Bay of Pigs invasion. After the first day of that doomed venture, when it was apparent all was lost, Kennedy was asked by both the CIA and the Pentagon to send in the navy to save the day. He refused. The film does not acknowledge that symmetry. Or the message implicit in Kennedy’s limited aid package: the US could help Diem, they could extend weapons and supplies. But they could not fight his war for him.

    There is a famous quote about how strongly Kennedy framed this question to Arthur Schlesinger. What the film does with this key quote is revealing. It includes only the first part of it, where JFK told Schlesinger that committing combat troops would be like taking a sip of alcohol: the effect would wear off and you then had to take another. But it eliminates Kennedy’s much stronger punch line: “The war in Vietnam could be won only so long as it was their war. If it were ever converted into a white man’s war, we would lose as the French had lost a decade earlier.” (Goldstein, p. 63) Could anything make the issue more clear? Congressman Kennedy had seen the folly of our effort to aid the French position in their war in Indochina. But he saw that France had overextended itself: that they had no real political base and therefore had to send in a land army to fight Giap’s guerilla war. He was not going to repeat that mistake with American troops. He was not going to be perceived as continuing a colonial war in the Third World.

    As mentioned above, Burns and Novick note Kennedy’s signing of NSAM 111. But they do not relate what else Kennedy did at this time. As James Blight has noted, all the indications are that Kennedy was shaken by the fact that he was almost alone in resisting the siren song of inserting the Army and Marines into Indochina as the main fighting force. (Blight, p. 281) Contrary to what the film implies, that cabinet was not unilaterally picked by JFK. It was done by committee, one that included Clark Clifford, Richard Neustadt, Larry O’Brien and Sargent Shriver. (Ted Sorenson, Kennedy, p. 258) For this reason, Kennedy decided to go outside that circle of White House advisors to enlist an ally. He notified John Kenneth Galbraith, ambassador to India, that he wanted him to visit Saigon and write up a report on how he saw the situation. Kennedy knew full well what Galbraith would say: namely, that we should begin to distance ourselves from Saigon. (Blight, pp. 69, 361) Then, when Galbraith arrived in town in early April, Kennedy sent him to see Bob McNamara to brief him on his report. The ambassador reported back to the president that he had achieved his mission and that McNamara was now on board. (ibid, p. 370) As several commentators have noted, e.g., Gordon Goldstein and John Newman, this was the beginning of Kennedy’s withdrawal plan.

    What does the film do with this very important background maneuvering by Kennedy? It reduces it all by simply saying that Secretary of Defense McNamara announced in the summer of 1962 that America was making progress on winning the war and therefore a gradual withdrawal of American advisors could begin and be completed by 1965. This camouflages two important points. First, it conveys the idea that this was McNamara’s initiative. Second, it also implies that Kennedy and McNamara both thought they were actually winning the war. Both of these tenets are wrong. McNamara had to be convinced upon Kennedy’s orders to begin this plan. It was Kennedy’s plan, not McNamara’s. Secondly, there is simply no credible evidence that either of them actually thought the American effort there was militarily successful. How could McNamara think so if just six months earlier he had recommended over 200,000 combat troops be committed into Vietnam? If you don’t mention it, you don’t have to explain it.

    As per Kennedy, he told his two trusted advisors, Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers, that he had to delay his withdrawal plan and design it around the 1964 election, and complete it in 1965. Otherwise he would be decried by the right wing as a communist appeaser and that would endanger the election. (James Douglass, JFK and the Unspeakable, p. 126) Obviously, if Kennedy thought the ARVN were winning, or were going to win, he would not have expressed it that way. Further, researcher Malcolm Blunt recently sent this author a document Kennedy requested in the fall of 1963 and which was returned to the president in November, about two weeks before his death. This was an evacuation plan for American government employees in Saigon. John Newman has argued of late that Kennedy and McNamara feared that Saigon would fall before their original final withdrawal date, which was autumn of 1965. Kennedy likely ordered this plan for that reason. For as Kennedy told NSC assistant Mike Forrestal in 1963, the probability of Saigon winning was about 100-1. (Goldstein, p. 239)

    Coinciding with all this is what is probably the most important document declassified by the ARRB. McNamara held regular meetings of the Saigon chiefs of agencies and the Pentagon in Hawaii. These were called Sec/Def meetings. For the one in May of 1963, he had requested that each agency and military chief bring with him their withdrawal schedule. After he had looked them over, he said they were too slow and would have to be speeded up. There was no qualification by McNamara that this withdrawal was hinging upon an American “victory” and there was no contingency plan mentioned to reinstate troops if the victory was not in sight. In fact, General Earle Wheeler wrote that he understood that any request for any overt action would be denied by the president. (Probe Magazine, Vol. 5, No. 3, pp. 19-21) These documents were so compelling that even The New York Times bannered a story with the headline: “Kennedy Had a Plan for Early Exit in Vietnam.” (ibid, p. 19) One would think that if it were good enough for that paragon of the MSM, the Grey Lady, it would be good enough for Burns and Novick. Needless to say, none of these documents are shown in The Vietnam War.

    Neither is NSAM 263 exhibited. This was the order drawn up in early October of 1963 that delineated the withdrawal plan and mandated that a thousand men be returned from Vietnam by the end of 1963. The story of how the order and the report it was attached to were created is revealing, and would have been informative to the viewer. By the autumn of 1963, JFK now had everything in place to activate his withdrawal plan. But he wanted to send his two highest military advisors to Saigon, that is, McNamara and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Maxwell Taylor. He trusted McNamara, but not Taylor. Therefore, while those two were in Vietnam, Pentagon higher ups General Victor Krulak and Colonel Fletcher Prouty were invited to the White House. Bobby Kennedy met the duo. He instructed them, upon orders of the president, that they would actually edit and compose the Taylor/McNamara report at his direction. (John Newman, JFK and Vietnam, p. 401) Once that was done, it was shipped out to Hawaii and given to Taylor and McNamara in bound form. Kennedy was not allowing for any alterations.

    That report became the basis for NSAM 263. Presidentially designed, the report was used by him to ram 263 through his foreign policy advisors—some of whom were reluctant to sign on to it. But, reluctant or not, they ultimately did. McNamara was then sent out to announce the withdrawal plan to the press. As he was walking to meet the reporters, Kennedy instructed him with the following: “And tell them that means all of the helicopter pilots too.” (ibid, pp. 404-07)

    One would think that if a filmmaker were trying to assemble the latest scholarship on Vietnam for an American audience—if one were really trying to enlighten them with the best and newest information—then at least some of this would be included in the presentation. Or at least he or she would communicate some of the (at least) nine sources that Kennedy or McNamara confided in about the withdrawal plan. Or perhaps play the October 2, 1963 taped conference where McNamara actually says that they have to find a way to get out of Vietnam. (Blight, p. 100)

    I shouldn’t have to replay this refrain by now: None of this information is in the film. But as Burns pronounced on Marc Maron’s radio podcast of September 11th : History is malleable. Sort of like bubble gum, right Ken?

    What do Burns and Novick tender us instead? They give us Neil Sheehan and Jean Paul Vann. Which means they would have given us David Halberstam if he were alive. (See my two-part review, “David Halberstam, The Best and the Brightest) When I saw this, I realized just how much The Vietnam War wanted to be part of the MSM, and just how far PBS had fallen. For Halberstam’s The Best and the Brightest—which Warren Hinckle once called “one of the greatest bullshit books ever written”—makes McNamara out to be the chief engineer of the war. When, in fact, from April of 1962 to November of 1963, he was implementing Kennedy’s withdrawal plan. McNamara had even told his deputy, Roswell Gilpatric, that Kennedy had assigned him the task of winding down the war. (Blight, p. 371)

    Jean Paul Vann was one of the military advisors stationed in Vietnam under Kennedy. By all accounts he was committed to the cause of the American created nation-state of South Vietnam. Halberstam and Sheehan were young reporters at the time. Halberstam had been sent to Vietnam after being assigned to the Congo. Which is an important point. As noted above, one of Kennedy’s first reversals of Dulles/Eisenhower Cold War policy was in the Congo. In fact, that was the first place where JFK directed specific alterations to his predecessor’s policy. These would favor leftist leader Patrice Lumumba and the cause of emerging African nationalism. In that instance Kennedy was contravening a (British aided) Belgian attempt at recolonization. (Mahoney, pp. 65-69)

    Valuable research by Paul Rigby has shown that, prior to being assigned to Vietnam, Halberstam had done what he could to condescend to Kennedy’s efforts in Congo. In the pages of Times Talk—Halberstam’s employer, the NY Times in-house journal—the reporter conveyed some of those ideas. His stories, such as “It’s Chaos for a Correspondent in the Congo” and “Congo Boondocks: Land of Cannibals and Diamonds,” communicated the Establishment line that Congo could not handle independence because it was simply a land of African primitives. (William Prochnau, Once Upon a Distant War, p. 509; see also Halberstam’s The Making of a Quagmire, pp. 3-24) Halberstam seemed to be missing the overall gestalt of the struggle. He would later write of that colossal, epic conflict—which killed both Lumumba and Dag Hammarskjold—that there was less there than met the eye. (Halberstam, p. 17)

    Halberstam’s outlook and attitude failed to fully grasp Kennedy’s concepts in Congo, where JFK decided to do all he could to enforce UN Secretary General Hammarskjold’s policies for Congolese independence against America’s European allies England and Belgium. Kennedy continued that policy alone after Hammarskjold was killed. (“Hammarskjold and Kennedy vs. The Power Elite”) It is clear today—as it was then—that both Lumumba and Hammarskjold were murdered by colonial powers trying to retake the mineral wealth of Congo. (“Plane crash that killed UN boss may have been caused by aircraft attack”) Yet, in 1965, Halberstam could write that the Congolese cared less for their country than white people did. (ibid, p. 18) Unlike Halberstam, Jonathan Kwitny later fully comprehended what had happened. As Kwitny wrote, Patrice Lumumba became a hero in Africa “not because he promoted socialism, which he didn’t, but because he resisted foreign intervention. He stood up to outsiders, if only by getting himself killed.” (Endless Enemies, p. 72) As the picture below illustrates, Kennedy certainly understood Lumumba’s cause and his martyrdom:

    jfklumumba
    Kennedy receiving word of Lumumba’s death
    (photo: Jacques Lowe)

    On the larger, more epic level, Kwitny also had a much richer understanding of what was at stake in Congo than Halberstam. After surveying what happened, he memorably wrote about the legacy of Lumumba and what it meant in the larger movement of African nations to break out of the servitude of colonialism:

    The democratic experiment had no example in Africa, and badly needed one. So perhaps the sorriest … blight on the record of this new era is that the precedent for it all, the very first coup in postcolonial African history, the very first political assassination, and the very first junking of a legally constituted democratic system, all took place in a major country and were all instigated by the United States of America. It’s a sad situation when people are left to learn their ‘democracy’ from the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. (ibid, p. 75)

    When Halberstam got to Vietnam—actually on his second day there—he lunched with the CIA’s station chief in Saigon. (Prochnau, p. 133) As the weeks went by, many of his CIA contacts from Congo migrated there. As author William Prochnau wrote, “By now his CIA contacts from the Congo had begun to flock to the hot new action in Southeast Asia like bees to honey; Vietnam was a spook’s dream and the Agency forever had a better fix on Vietnamese reality than the American military.” (ibid, p. 169)

    Halberstam admitted this in his 1965 book, The Making of a Quagmire, where he wrote, “But many CIA agents in Saigon were my friends, and I considered them among the ablest Americans I had seen overseas or at home.” (p. 222) In that book, Halberstam attempts an all-out defense of the CIA’s role in both Vietnam and the developing world. And he adds that inherent suspicion of the Agency is “the outgrowth of its bogeyman image among liberals …”. (ibid) This is especially puzzling today since the Church Committee revealed that Allen Dulles and the CIA had arranged numerous plots to kill Lumumba in the Congo, where the writer had just been stationed for many months. Later on, Halberstam attempted to distance himself from these admissions. He told Prochnau that UPI reporter Neil Sheehan had better CIA sources than he did, but he had better military sources. (Prochnau, p. 277)

    Both Halberstam and Sheehan were enamored with Vann, even though they understood he was an “essentially conservative, at times [an] almost reactionary man.” (Halberstam, p. 164) In their film, Burns and Novick have Sheehan tell us that, upon his own arrival in Saigon in 1962, he believed in American ideals and the alleged US mission in South Vietnam. He also believed in the dangers of the “international communist conspiracy”. Sheehan then adds that he was there to report the truth in order to help win the war for the betterment of the United States and the world. He describes going along on ARVN helicopter missions as being part of a crusade: he was thrilled by the experience.

    These attitudes made Sheehan and Halberstam easy targets for Vann. And negatively complementing that, it guaranteed that they would completely miss what Kennedy was doing. Colonel Vann was a veteran of Korea and, by 1963, had served in the military for twenty years. With Sheehan’s help, Burns and Novick spend several minutes outlining the January 1963 Battle of Ap Bac, an important conflict that Vann helped plan and supervise. Although the Viet Cong were outnumbered by a large margin, even though the ARVN had helicopter support and used armored personnel carriers, this battle turned out to be, by any accounting, a losing proposition for Vann. Saigon lost 80 dead, more than one hundred wounded, and five helicopters destroyed. The Viet Cong lost 18 dead and 39 wounded. Vann was deeply angered and confided the true facts of the defeat to his students Sheehan and Halberstam, who both wrote about the failure of the battle.

    The film does not reveal a key reason for that failure, one which Vann himself had discovered. Ngo Dinh Diem had issued orders to his field commanders not to initiate large offensive operations that would provoke serious casualties. Vann’s intelligence officer, Jim Drummond, concluded that the ARVN had not really checked the growth of the Viet Cong or the area under their control. (John Newman, JFK and Vietnam, p. 299) In other words, contrary to what the commander in Vietnam, General Harkins, was saying, America was not winning the war. And Ap Bac was living proof of that.

    Vann was shipped out of Vietnam in 1963 and served in the Pentagon as a procurement officer. He began to file formal reports complaining about how the war was being fought. These reports appealed to General Edward Lansdale because they clearly projected the fact that unless American ground troops were committed to Vietnam, Saigon would fall. (ibid, p. 319) As we have seen, this is the message Kennedy had listened to in November of 1961—and had rejected. Kennedy was aware of what Vann was doing. Both he and McNamara opposed the work of his acolyte Halberstam; Kennedy even asked the publisher of the Times to rotate him out of Saigon. (David Kaiser, American Tragedy, p. 261; Halberstam, p. 268)

    But Edward Lansdale had been the first to advise Kennedy to insert combat troops into Vietnam. (Newman, p. 20) Sure enough, after Kennedy’s death, when Lansdale returned to the White House, he recommended sending Vann back to Vietnam. Vann did return in 1965, when Lyndon Johnson overturned Kennedy’s policy and committed tens of thousands of American combat troops to Saigon. (Kaiser, p. 384)

    The reason that Sheehan and Halberstam admired Vann was simple: like him, they were Hawks. And like him—and opposed to Kennedy—they wanted more American involvement, not less. This is easily discernible by reading Halberstam’s 1965 book The Making of a Quagmire. That volume is perhaps the single most complete and coruscating condemnation of America’s Vietnam policy published to that point. It attacks every element of the American mission in that country and also the policies and personages of the Diem regime. (See Chapters 3-5) It then goes on to expose the ineptness of the ARVN (Chapters 5-7), in particular how bad Colonel Hunyh Van Cao was. The latter actually gets his own chapter: 10. Why so hard on Cao? Because Vann was the advisor attached to him, and—as with Sheehan—Vann was Halberstam’s hero in 1965. Why? Because he knew how to win the war. (See Chapter 11) So for Halberstam, when Vann departed, things got worse. (see Chapter 12).

    If Halberstam could not make it more clear, he does near the end of the book. With Sheehan mentioned throughout, he proclaims: “Bombers and helicopters and napalm are a help but they are not enough.” (p. 321) He then concludes with the following: “The lesson to be learned from Vietnam is that we must get in earlier, be shrewder, and force the other side to practice self-deception.” (p. 322)

    Of course, when the wishes of this troika—Sheehan, Vann and Halberstam—were fulfilled, we saw what happened. Direct American involvement ended up being an epic debacle. As many as 3-4 million people were slaughtered amid almost unimaginable horror. All in pursuit of a false goal that was not possible to attain. In other words, Kennedy was right and Vann, Sheehan and Halberstam were wrong. But neither Halberstam nor Sheehan could ever admit that. It is especially startling that Halberstam never saw the parallels of what happened in both Congo and Vietnam after Kennedy was killed: In Congo, the Agency and LBJ switched sides and joined the imperial interests; in Vietnam, the Pentagon and Johnson now broke Kennedy’s strictures and eventually imported 540,000 combat troops, making it an American imperial war. Truly puzzling that he would miss all of this.

    Sheehan and Halberstam got their wish. And even after it was clear that direct American involvement would not work, it took them years to understand it. And further, that the American army was self-destructing in the jungle, as Kennedy had predicted it would back in 1961. By 1971, even the army understood this. Colonel Robert Heinl wrote a long essay on its collapse at that time, and traced it from at least 1969. (Col. Robert D. Heinl, Jr., “The Collapse of the Armed Forces”)

    But author and activist Mark Lane understood it even earlier. In 1970 he published a book of personal interviews with returning veterans. The book was called Conversations with Americans. It was a shocking exposé of the individual and group war crimes that American solders had committed in Vietnam. Since there was a danger that his interview subjects would be prosecuted, he gave them the option of using fictitious names. He marked these with an asterisk in the text. He then added that the real names and full transcripts had been given over to an attorney who had worked for the Justice Department. (Lane, p. 17)

    When the book was published, The New York Times trotted out Sheehan to review it. (NY Times Book Review, 12/27/70) Sheehan wrote that he had contacted the Pentagon and some of the people named in the book did not serve in the military, or were not in the places where they said they were at the time. Which implied that what Lane was writing was fictitious. After, when Lane called the New York Times to talk to Sheehan, Sheehan would not accept his calls. The Times then sent Sheehan out on tour to promote his column. Which, of course, was a promotion of the collapsing war effort. Apparently, as a believer in the international communist conspiracy, Sheehan never imagined that there was a systematic, institutionalized cover-up of these crimes after the 1968 My Lai Massacre. But there was such a cover-up, and author Nick Turse discovered it when he found the (incomplete) records. (Kill Anything that Moves, pp. 15-21) When Lane asked Sheehan about My Lai during a radio interview, the New York Times reporter replied that it was just a rumor. (Mark Lane, Citizen Lane, pp. 220-21)

    Under pressure from the Times and Sheehan, Lane’s book was withdrawn from circulation.

    This is the man Burns and Novick use as the main talking head in their segment on the Kennedy years. With their defense of the Dulles brothers as “decent people” in Part One, the disappearance of Kennedy’s withdrawal plan and the championing of Vann and Sheehan in Part Two, so far the net value of this documentary is something less than zero.


    Addendum

    Although some critics of the film JFK have stated that there was no public announcement of NSAM 263, and Kennedy was keeping it quiet, as the reader can see in the following two Newsweek articles, that is false.  It was a public policy, and Kennedy had sent Defense Secretary Robert McNamara to brief the press on it after he had adopted it in October, 1963. (John Newman, JFK and Vietnam, p. 407)

    Newsweek, October 14, 1963

    (Click here if your browser is having trouble loading the above.)

    Newsweek, December 2, 1963

    (Click here if your browser is having trouble loading the above.)


    Part 1

    Part 3

    Part 4

  • Ken Burns & Lynn Novick, The Vietnam War: Part One

    Ken Burns & Lynn Novick, The Vietnam War: Part One


    After a huge publicity build-up the PBS ten-part series The Vietnam War is upon us. Like previous efforts—The War, Prohibition, Baseball—it was written by Geoffrey Ward and produced and directed by Ken Burns and Lynn Novick. I predict that like those other documentaries, it will win many Emmy Awards. But not because of any intrinsic qualitative value. But because Burns has become a cultural darling. He, Novick and Ward understand how to attain funding and how to get approval through media gatekeepers. Which is not the same as writing or filming honest, valuable history. As we will see, whatever historical value this much-ballyhooed production has is quite dubious.

    It begins with the 1858 attack on DaNang as the French begin to take over all of Indochina for colonial purposes. After France fell to Germany in World War II, the Japanese occupied Vietnam. Before he passed away President Franklin Roosevelt had made a statement that after the war, former colonies should be allowed freedom to choose their form of government in the future. The film mentions Roosevelt’s dictum but says President Truman turned this around due to the Russians exploding atomic bombs, China being taken over by Mao and the eruption of the Korean War. This sounds a lot like it was cribbed from David Halberstam’s bad book, The Best and The Brightest. And like much of that bloated mediocrity, it is not really accurate. And since one of the main talking heads in The Vietnam War is Leslie Gelb, the editor of the Pentagon Papers, Gelb could have corrected this.

    After the British let the French back into Vietnam in 1946, there were still those in the State Department who followed the on-and-off vacillations of France’s policy toward Bao Dai. Bao Dai had been the titular leader of Vietnam since 1926. The French gave him little leeway to accomplish anything of significance. The Japanese allowed him to stay as a figurehead leader during World War II. Some in the State Department told the French to alter the successive “agreements” they contracted with Bao Dai into an effective nationalist alternative to revolutionary leader Ho Chi Minh and his followers the Viet Minh. This proved unsuccessful. And the US sensed that French unwillingness to concede political power to the Vietnamese “heightened the possibility of the Franco-Viet Minh conflict being transformed into a struggle with Soviet imperialism.” (Pentagon Papers, Volume I, p. A-5)

    Therefore, American diplomats were told to “apply such persuasion and/or pressure as is best calculated to produce desired result of France’s unequivocally and promptly approving the principle of Viet independence.” And Paris was put on notice that the US “was willing to extend financial aid to a Vietnamese government, not a French puppet, but could not give consideration of altering its present policy in this regard unless real progress is made in reaching non-communist solution in Indochina based on cooperation of true nationalists of that country.” (Ibid)

    This same study found that there was no strong evidence of Soviet influence with Ho Chi Minh in 1948, even though the French colonialist war had been going on for two years at that time. (Volume 1, p. A-6)

    In early 1950, the French “took the first concrete steps toward transferring public administration to Bao Dai’s State of Vietnam.” This fateful move enraged Ho Chi Minh who denied the legitimacy of Bao Dai as anything more than a puppet of Paris. At this point Ho’s Democratic Republic of Vietnam (DRV) was formally recognized by China and the USSR (ibid, p. A-7) When this occurred, Secretary of State Dean Acheson now reversed the policy of neutrality that had been announced in 1948. On February 1, 1950 he made the following public statement: “The recognition by the Kremlin of Ho Chi Minh’s communist movement in Indochina comes as a surprise. The Soviet acknowledgement of this movement should remove any illusion as to the ”nationalist” nature of Ho Chi Minh’s aims and reveals Ho in his true colors as the mortal enemy of native independence in Indochina.” (ibid, p. A-7)

    Acheson then tried to disguise the aim of France bestowing administrative powers on Bao Dai by saying this would actually lead “toward stable governments representing the true nationalist sentiments of more than 20 million peoples of Indochina.” (ibid) Apparently keeping tongue in cheek, he went further and said this move was backed by the countries of the world “whose policies support the development of genuine national independence in former colonial areas … .”

    On the day France recognized Bao Dai, President Truman also recognized him as the leader of Vietnam. A few weeks later, France began to request financial aid for their mandarin. On May 8, 1950, Acheson acceded to that request with these words:

    The United States Government, convinced that neither national independence nor democratic evolution exist in any area dominated by Soviet imperialism, considers the situation to be such as to warrant its according economic aid and military equipment to the Associated States of Indochina and to France in order to assist them in restoring stability and permitting these states to pursue their peaceful and democratic development.

    As the Pentagon Papers notes, “The US thereafter was deeply involved in the developing war.” (ibid, p. A-8) Later that year, the United Sates stationed a Military Assistance Advisory Group in Saigon to help the French.

    I would have gladly forfeited all the incessant Burns-Novick use of colored maps with red endangering the Far East (I counted this six times just in Part One); all of narrator Peter Coyote’s—who I used to think was a pretty decent guy—intoning the David Halberstamish warnings about Russia detonating an atomic bomb, or China going communist; I would have exchanged all of those warmed-over 1970’s clichés for just three minutes of the above passages from the Pentagon Papers. Since this was the real reason America got involved in Vietnam: our failure to stand up to the French desire to recolonize Indochina. In other words, Secretary of State Acheson valued the alliance with France more than he did Roosevelt’s pledge of colonial independence. And his failure to admit Bao Dai was a French puppet is what pushed Ho Chi Minh closer to Moscow.

    Two questions so far: how can you elucidate anything as fundamental and documented as this if:

    1. You never mention the name of Dean Acheson, and
    2. You never mention the name of Bao Dai?

    Incredible as that sounds, it is true. And it was at this (rather early) point that I began to question the film-makers’ honesty. It is fine and dandy to let people directly engaged in the conflict, that is, soldiers and civilians, have their say. It gives the series grounding in the day-to-day ugliness and drama of that prolonged horrific struggle. But do Tom Vallely, Duoun Von Mai and John Musgrave make up in importance for the lack of Acheson and Bao Dai? Anyone who saw the film Platoon—as millions did—knows how scary night patrol must have been in Vietnam. But one function of the historian is to explain how John Musgrave got into that precarious position. The declassified record shows it was Acheson’s decision that got America “deeply involved in the developing war.” (My citations are from the completely declassified Pentagon Papers, not the Daniel Ellsberg or Mike Gravel versions which were incomplete.)

    But that is just the beginning of the crucial excisions made by Burns and Novick. How in heaven’s name can one tell the story of American involvement in Vietnam without mentioning the personages of Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, CIA Director Allen Dulles, or General Edward Lansdale? With a full 18 hours at one’s disposal, I would have thought such a thing would be impossible. Yet with Burns and Novick, the impossible becomes the possible. And by doing so, the film-makers all but erase the next major step of American involvement in Vietnam, and how Musgrave got stuck on that nighttime patrol in the jungle.

    John Foster Dulles was even more extreme than Dean Acheson. His anti-communism contained an almost religious-metaphysical amplification. But he was not just anti-communist. Like his brother Allen, he would not even tolerate neutrality, or non-alignment within the boundaries of the Cold War. (See Kennedy, Johnson, and the Nonaligned World, by Robert Rakove, pp. 5-8) Therefore, the aid to France in its imperial war was greatly increased once Eisenhower became president and Foster Dulles his Secretary of State. Today, it is common knowledge that by 1954, America was footing close to 80% of the cost of the war. In the last year of the war, America had supplied France with over a billion dollars in supplies and weapons. By 1953 this meant 12 shiploads per month, which had accumulated at that point to 777 armored fighting vehicles, 13,000 transport vehicles, and 253 naval vessels (See John Prados, Operation Vulture, Chapter 1 of the e book format.)

    Burns and Novick briefly discuss the 1954 battle at Dien Bien Phu, which ended the French attempt to retake their Indochina empire. Dien Bien Phu was a scheme created by General Henri Navarre to lure General Giap, Ho Chi Minh’s military commander, into the northwest corner of the country. The idea was to engage Giap in an open battle and crush his forces via artillery and aerial bombardment. That strategy backfired. And about a month into the 55-day siege, it became apparent that France had gambled and lost.

    But the Dulles brothers were not going to accept the fact that they had bet on the wrong horse. They now began to arrange one of the most frightening and outrageous episodes in the entire 30-year history of the war. It was called Operation Vulture. As John Prados, Fletcher Prouty and others have noted, this was the assemblage of a giant air armada. It was made up of over 200 planes. It consisted of fighters, bombers and three special Convairs to carry three atomic bombs to bail out the French. As Prados describes in his book Operation Vulture: America’s Dien Bien Phu, this was a Dulles brothers project, done with the knowledge and connivance of Vice President Richard Nixon. Nixon had previously convinced Eisenhower to allow the French to use American support planes, which were flown by CIA pilots. And some of these planes and pilots flew into Dien Bien Phu in March of 1954. They were disguised with French insignias. (Prados, Chapter 3)

    Eisenhower would only approve Vulture under certain restrictions. Two of them were congressional consultation, and also that our main ally England would join the effort. Nixon lobbied Congress, while Foster Dulles had his ambassador to England approach foreign minister Anthony Eden for approval. Dulles then went to London himself. Eden refused to go along and (correctly) labeled the effort a lost cause. (Prados, Chapters 6 and 8)

    Nixon and Dulles did not agree. And Dulles and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Arthur Radford did not give up. They had meetings with congressional leaders like Senators Lyndon Johnson and William Knowland, and encouraged the Pentagon brass to support Vulture. (ibid, Chapter 6. Although David Halberstam, in his book The Best and the Brightest, wrote that LBJ did not support direct American intervention in 1954, Prados dug up written evidence that he actually had.)

    This lobbying effort included a speech in April of 1954, where Nixon proposed the insertion of American combat troops to save Dien Bien Phu. Which is perhaps the first public statement of that kind by a high ranking American politician. (Prados, Chapter 9) Foster Dulles made no attempt to reprimand Nixon for that statement. In fact, the two men were sharing working lunches on the attempt to save France. Foster Dulles now began to encourage Eisenhower to act unilaterally. At the same time Radford had sent a bombing specialist to fly over Dien Bien Phu to inspect the proper paths and altitudes for Vulture. (Ibid, Chapter 10)

    When Eisenhower would not act alone, Foster Dulles played his last card. He offered the French foreign minister the use of two atomic bombs to lift the siege. Georges Bidault said his reply did not require a lot of thought. He pointed out to Dulles, “If those bombs are dropped near Dien Bien Phu, our side will suffer as much as the enemy.” (David Talbot, The Devil’s Chessboard, p. 245) What makes this so stunning is that Dulles was acting without presidential approval in making that proposal.

    In watching the opening episode of this series, which deals with the French defeat in Vietnam, I did not detect one mention of Operation Vulture.

    After pondering that historical black hole about the Dulles brothers, I began to think back to one of the opening statements made by poor Peter Coyote. He says that the Vietnam War “was begun in good faith by decent people out of fateful misunderstandings.” Decent people? Misunderstandings? Bidault certainly did not misunderstand the effect of thermonuclear war over Dien Bien Phu. And in this day and age, with all we know about them, how can anyone call the Dulles brothers “decent people”? One wonders if that common knowledge today is the reason that their names are left out of this installment.

    From the fall of Dien Bien Phu, the episode now shifts to the peace conference at Geneva, Switzerland. As everyone who has studied that conference knows, it was essentially stage-managed by the United States, with Foster Dulles as the ringmaster. Although Ho Chi Minh and Giap had soundly defeated the French, China and Russia understood that the Dulles brothers’ unending support for the French colonial cause signaled ominous warnings for the future. Namely, as Nixon had alluded to, direct American intervention. Their allies therefore encouraged Ho and Giap to take a smaller cut of the pie than they had earned. Foster Dulles and Eisenhower had two immediate goals. The first involved the immediate future of Vietnam. They wanted a partitioning of the country between north and south at the 17th parallel with a Demilitarized Zone there. At the end of a two-year period, national elections would be held and the country would be unified under independent, democratically elected national leadership. Since the Dulles brothers were lawyers, they pulled a neat legal trick over this agreement. The United States did not actually sign the agreement. But Foster Dulles had his representative read a statement saying that America would honor the agreement. (See Vietnam Documents, edited by George Katiaficas, pp. 25, 42, 78) The other aim the administration had was to set up an anti-communist alliance called the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization. Which, of course, made the specter of American intervention more palpable.

    Within weeks of the conference, Allen Dulles had given veteran black operator Edward Lansdale the assignment of creating a country called South Vietnam—which had never existed before—and propping up a new leader there named Ngo Dinh Diem. The Agency gave Lansdale a blank check, and the ambitious and imaginative CIA officer came through in spades. Knowing Diem was a Catholic, Lansdale created one of the largest psychological operations in the history of the CIA. As Ralph McGehee described in his book Deadly Deceits, Lansdale infiltrated teams into the north to disseminate propaganda about upcoming pogroms by the Chinese Communists against the North Vietnamese, and perhaps American atomic weapons used over Hanoi. As a result, in the 300 day grace period for north-south migration, about a million people fled the north, about half of them Catholics. The CIA allowed free transportation on US Navy ships and also air flights through their proprietary Civil Air Transport. Not only did this boost Diem’s constituency, it fooled many Americans into thinking that somehow Hanoi embodied evil and Saigon—the new capitol of the new country—was a democratic oasis.

    Lansdale then helped further this illusion. He helped Diem rig a plebiscite that placed him officially in power with a mind-boggling 98% of the vote. Diem’s opponent, Bao Dai, was not allowed to campaign. And as Seth Jacobs wrote in Cold War Mandarin, in several districts, the vote tally for Diem exceeded the number of registered voters. What made this even harder to swallow was that voter turnout was nowhere near 100 percent. (Jacobs, p. 95) Lansdale had told Diem 60% would be plenty, but Diem insisted on the 98 number. (The CIA: A Forgotten History, by William Blum, p. 139) Lansdale had done all his masters wished, and more. In fact, as John Pilger noted in his book Heroes, Lansdale later complained, “I cannot truly sympathize with Americans who help promote a fascistic state and then get angry when it doesn’t act like a democracy.”

    Although you can see his photograph twice, you will not hear Lansdale’s name mentioned in Part One. And by doing that, the CIA’s role in the rigged plebiscite and the forced migration is not revealed. Why this silence over the man who, in reality, created South Vietnam and Ngo Dinh Diem? Maybe because he wasn’t one of the “decent people”?

    The effect of Lansdale’s work was to first, to stop the promised 1956 elections from making Ho Chi Minh president of a united Vietnam, and second, to spell the end of any leftover French rule in the south. With the plebiscite, Bao Dai was now gone. In fact, Diem formally banned him from visiting the country. After all this skullduggery and treachery, Foster Dulles would make the following astonishing statement: “We have a clean base there now, without a taint of colonialism. Dien Bien Phu was a blessing in disguise.” In the judgment of history, could any statement have been more wrong?

    In May of 1956, Washington further violated the Geneva Agreements by sending in 350 military advisors. (ibid, Blum p. 139.) Burns and Novick try to place this violation on President Kennedy. But JFK just sent in more military advisors, they were not the first. And as far as violating the Geneva Accords, the Dulles brothers had broken that agreement to pieces already. But the importation of advisors was made necessary since the vote for Diem was so ersatz. He had no real broad-based constituency.

    Since Diem could not command the allegiance of the people, the resistance against him began in the countryside. To counteract this rebellion, the CIA created a training program for Saigon security forces at Michigan State University. It was these trainees who manned Diem’s brother Nhu’s police force. A law was passed in 1957 that every Vietnamese 15 years and older was required to register with the government and carry a proper ID. Anyone without a card was considered a part of the National Liberation Front, the political arm of Ho Chi Minh’s sympathizers in the south. The military arm would be called the Viet Cong. Thus, using Lansdale’s ingenuity and the CIA’s money, the Dulles brothers created a “fascistic” police state which ended up imprisoning, torturing and executing tens of thousands of people.

    But as Lansdale said, who can get angry when a fascistic state doesn’t act like a democracy?

    These are the “decent men” that Burns and Novick could not bring themselves to mention.


    Part 2

    Part 3

    Part 4