At: This Day Live
Tag: FOREIGN POLICY
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Bridge of Spies: Spielberg and the Coen Brothers Punch Up History

The mythology about Rudolf Abel survived for decades on end. It began when he was captured and then tried as a Russian espionage agent in a New York City court in 1957. The legend was furthered by not one, but two hearings before the Supreme Court concerning whether or not the arrest of Abel was done within the boundaries of a legal search and seizure. It reached its apogee when President Kennedy approved an exchange of Abel for captured U-2 pilot Francis Gary Powers in 1962. Abel’s American lawyer, a man named James B. Donovan, carried out that exchange in Germany. In 1964, Donovan wrote a book on the Abel case and the later prisoner exchange. Strangers on a Bridge became a national best seller. Now even more people were exposed to the Abel myth.
What do I mean by the “Abel mythology?” First off, there was no such Russian spy born with that name. He borrowed that name from a deceased Russian colonel. Abel’s real name was Willie Fisher. And as one can guess by that moniker, he wasn’t Russian. He was born in 1903 in Benwell, Newcastle upon Tyne, in the north of England. When his family moved to Russia in the twenties, Fisher became a translator since he had an aptitude for language acquisition. He later developed an affinity for electronics and radio operation. And this was what the NKVD, precursor to the KGB, used him for during World War II.
Another myth is that the FBI uncovered Fisher and then cracked the case. This is not at all accurate. Fisher was caught through the betrayal of his assistant. That assistant was named Reino Hayhanen. Moscow had sent Hayhanen to help Fisher. But Reino turned out to be a very bad assistant. He was both a drunkard and a womanizer—he squandered some of the money given to him by Fisher on prostitutes. When Fisher had had his fill of him, he sent Reino back to Russia. Sensing that he would be disciplined upon his return, Hayhanen stopped at the American Embassy in Paris. There he turned himself in as a Soviet spy. And this is how Fisher was uncovered.
A third myth is that he was a master spy, somewhat on the level of Kim Philby. As several latter day commentators who have studied the Fisher case have concluded, there is simply nothing to even approximate such a lofty comparison. To use just one example: there is no evidence that, in the entire nine year period that Fisher was in America, he even recruited one agent, or source, on his own. But further, once the KGB got the news of Hayhanen’s betrayal, Fisher had an opportunity to dispose of much of the incriminating evidence in his flat. He did not. But further, although he had used a false name with Hayhanen, he had taken him to his home. By casing the building, by following some of the residents who fit Reino’s description, and then snapping a picture of the man Hayhanen knew as “Mark,” this is how Fisher was caught. Through his own carelessness and errors in tradecraft.
Fisher’s cover while in the United States was that of a painter/photographer. Steven Spielberg begins his film Bridge of Spies with a clever and adroit composition. The spy is painting a self-portrait in his studio. Shooting from behind, we see then a dual image of the man: one in a mirror, and the other on the canvas–with the real subject in between, his back to us. This makes not just for an interesting composition, but it’s a nice symbolic précis of who the man is. We then watch as the FBI begins to follow Fisher around New York as he paints and takes photos. They then break into his hotel room. Fisher asks for permission to secure his palette of colors, and as he does he hides a coded message he had just secured from a drop point.
From here, the film now cuts to the man who will be the main character, attorney James Donovan. Once Fisher was caught, the FBI had planned on deporting him, since he was in the country illegally under various aliases, and had not registered as a foreign national. Which is why the INS was in on the raid. They shipped him to a detention center in Texas. There, they tried to turn him into a double agent. (Donovan, Strangers on a Bridge, pgs. 16, 45) Fisher turned down the offer. Since the Bureau discovered so much incriminating material in both his hotel room and his apartment, they switched strategies. Instead of deporting him, they now decided to place him on trial. Which was a rather unusual decision. Because, as Donovan wrote, there was no case he could find of a foreign spy being convicted of peacetime espionage. (Donovan, p. 19) The actual indictment contained three charges: 1.) Conspiracy to transmit atomic and military secrets to Russia; 2.) Conspiracy to gather classified government information; and 3.) Illegal residency in the U.S. as a foreign agent. (ibid, p. 20)
The Brooklyn BAR association decided to ask Donovan to represent the defendant. (ibid, p. 9) Donovan was at this time, 1957, mainly an insurance lawyer. But he had worked for the OSS during the war, and was one of the lawyers at the Nuremburg trials. Although the film only shows Donovan with one assistant, he actually had two. (Donovan, pgs. 34, 54) Some affluent law firms through the BAR furnished these. To his and their credit, the local legal establishment was determined to give the spy a decent defense team. (In a rather odd departure, the film does not portray Reino Hayhanen on screen.)
Rather early in the case, Donovan discovered that his best hope in defending Fisher were problems with the original search and seizure. Donovan concluded that this process was legally faulty due to the fact that the original strategy was to use the threat of deportation to turn Fisher. In other words, the FBI wanted to keep the profile of the raid low, so that the KGB would not understand that they had turned Fisher into a double agent. Therefore, they had not secured the properly designated warrants. But once they failed to turn the man, they now wished to prosecute him as if they had the proper warrants. (Donovan, pgs. 109-110)
The original trial judge would not accept Donovan’s motion to suppress evidence based on this issue. If he had, the prosecution’s case would have been gravely weakened. So once Fisher was convicted, Donovan raised the motion in an appeals court hearing. Once it was denied there, he went to the U.S. Supreme Court. That court heard the case twice. They eventually denied the appeal on a 5-4 vote. The film does not include the original appeals court case. It then collapses the two Supreme Court hearings into one.
Spielberg apparently wanted to cut down on these legal procedures to add more about Donovan’s family life, specifically under the pressures applied during the case; and also to make more screen time for the Gary Powers aspect of the story. The assumptions being that the former will add more human interest for the audience; the latter more action and opportunity for visual imagery. But there ends up being a problem here. For me, it’s at about these points that the film starts to slide off the rails as far as dramatic license goes. For example, in his book, Donovan does note that he got some crank calls because of his defense of Fisher. He then changed his phone number. (Donovan, p. 50) That wasn’t enough for Spielberg. This gets changed to an actual shooting attempt on Donovan’s daughter as she is quietly watching television alone in the living room. Now, I am sure if this had actually happened, Donovan would have written about it. It probably would have been front-page news in New York.
This is paralleled by what Spielberg does with the shoot down of Powers over Russia in the U-2. As Philip Kaufman proved so memorably in his fine film, The Right Stuff, high altitude aviation can be viscerally exciting; it’s an excellent subject for cinematography. But again, that in and of itself was apparently not enough for Spielberg. After Powers ejects from his plane, we actually see him hanging onto the tail and working himself around to try and push the “Destruct” button on the front control panel. Which, of course, he fails to do. Then as he parachutes downward, we watch as the plane actually brushes alongside his chute. In no account I have read of this incident have I seen any of this mentioned. Why was it necessary? Powers had serious trouble ejecting anyway because he couldn’t separate from his oxygen tank. Secondly, one of the pursuing planes was shot down by friendly fire.
I was kind of taken aback—again. First, the CIA director does not represent the “highest levels” of government, at least not overtly. But second, Dulles had left the CIA in November of 1961. The new director was John McCone.
But beyond that, there are two other aspects that the director and writers could have used for dramatic effect. First, Lee Harvey Oswald was in the USSR at the time of the Powers shoot down. There are even some writers who think he may have been in the gallery during Powers’s trial. Secondly, it was this incident that scuttled the Paris summit conference scheduled for just two weeks later. President Eisenhower tried to deny it happened. But the Russians kept Powers confined and hid the wreckage that they found of the plane. So Eisenhower was blindsided.
From what I have been able to garner about the screenplay, it was originally written by Matt Charman. Spielberg then brought in the Coen brothers (Joel and Ethan) to, as they say, “punch it up.” To put it mildly, if I was doing an historical film, about the last writers I would bring in to “punch it up” would be the Coen brothers.
Because what I have mentioned above is just the beginning of the pushing the limits of dramatic license. After the Supreme Court ruling went against Donovan, and Fisher started serving his sentence, the White House decided to seriously move for a prisoner exchange between the Russian spy and Powers. Donovan writes about it in his book’s last chapter. But he prefaces it with a warning that it was secret and he cannot reveal all of its elements. (Donovan, p. 371) But he does reveal two important things about the mission. First, it began on January 11, 1962 when he attended a meeting in Washington with several other persons, including a Justice Department lawyer. (ibid, pgs. 373-75) Secondly, at this meeting, he was told that this prisoner exchange had been approved at the highest levels of the government. Is that not kind of unambiguous? The highest level of the government would be the White House, right?
Again, this was not enough for Spielberg and the Coen brothers. In the film, Donovan (played by Tom Hanks) goes to Washington to meet CIA Director Allen Dulles. I was kind of taken aback—again. First, the CIA director does not represent the “highest levels” of government, at least not overtly. But second, Dulles had left the CIA in November of 1961. The new director was John McCone. As I said, Donovan’s book places this meeting two months after Kennedy had forced Dulles to resign. Again, I don’t see what was gained by this.
But during this meeting, Dulles tries to tell Donovan that he will be getting very little support on this mission. He will be largely on his own. This is not true even in the film’s terms. But it is certainly not true according to Donovan’s book. In the film, we watch as Hanks is escorted around West Germany by various American agents. They give him a safe house and a phone number to call. (The film actually has Donovan memorize this phone number when, in reality, he kept it on a card as he went to East Germany.)
In fact, in every step of Donovan’s trip—including the flight over on a MATS plane—he was escorted and assisted by American agents. The only part of his mission where he was alone was when he crossed over into East Germany. And that, of course, was pretty much unavoidable. Again, in this aspect, we see Donovan spending time in a holding cell at the hands of those brutal East Germans. Not only did that not occur, but also the incident that causes it did not happen either (e.g., the Abel family lawyer Wolfgang Vogel, speeding at over a hundred miles per hour in his sports car).
Let us close with three more points of divergence. The film makes much of the dealings between Donovan and the Russian Embassy official Ivan Schischkin, and the family lawyer, Vogel. This is because Donovan wants to release both Abel and an American economics student imprisoned in East Germany, Frederic Pryor. This led to a much longer mission than planned. Two days stretched into over a week. But this is not really accurate either. For Donovan actually was trying to release three prisoners. In addition to Pryor and Abel, he tried to release a man named Marvin Makinen. At this he did not succeed. But he did extract a promise that the Soviets would let him go later if super power relations improved. They did, and in October of 1963, Makinen was freed.
The film shows Donovan having his coat stolen from him under threat from a small gang of East German thugs. Again, this is not in Donovan’s book. The arrest of Frederic Pryor is made while the Berlin Wall is being constructed. As Pryor later revealed, he was not even in Berlin when the wall was going up. (Click here for more from Pryor).
I could go on further, but here is my question: Where are the history defiler zealots? You know, those screaming fanatics who come out of the woodwork whenever Oliver Stone makes a history film and uses elements of dramatic license? This highly praised film got very little of that kind of criticism as far as I could see. The Washington Post did allow David Talbot a brief column pointing out the Dulles fallacy and the actual primacy of President Kennedy over the mission. (See 10/28/15) But that was about it as far as I could tell. I made this same distinction in my review of Clint Eastwood’s poor film J. Edgar. There really does seem to be a double standard for people in the club, and those not in the club—that is the Washington/Hollywood nexus. It is a slice of pernicious hypocrisy that seems ingrained into our society.
But let me add something here. In Oliver Stone’s case, he is working in fields in which there are many unknowns (e.g., the JFK assassination, Nixon and Watergate). In other words, he is pushing the envelope. I don’t think that applies in this case.
As per the aesthetic elements of the film, Spielberg had a very long apprentice period as a director. It was over ten years from when he began making his amateur films in Arizona until he made his first really well directed feature film, Close Encounter of the Third Kind. Since then, his films have generally been quite well made. As noted above, he has a good pictorial eye, knows what he wants lighting wise, and his films are acutely edited. As he himself has said, he doesn’t really have a directorial style. He tries to serve the material at hand as well as possible. And, most of the time, he does. (Who can forget the disasters of Hook and 1941?)
I have always thought Tom Hanks was a gifted comic actor. He proved that on television in Bosom Buddies, and then furthered that reputation in Splash. In comedy he has energy, timing, and technical command. I have never been very much enamored of him outside of comedy. And when he tried to really stretch himself in Road to Perdition, playing a heavy, he fell on his face. (Whereas Michael Caine, who also is good in comedy, pulled off a similar role quite well in Get Carter.) Hanks is passable here. He doesn’t really act. He flexes certain aspects of his personality to fit the moment. Sort of what someone like Gary Cooper would have done in the fifties, before the Actor’s Studio revolution took hold.
On the other hand, British actor Mark Rylance as Fisher/Abel really does act. It’s a subtle, understated performance. One that is full of delicate secrets untold hidden inside the character. From the start, Rylance is in that very low emotional register and he not only sustains it throughout, he manages to articulate the character without ever breaking out of that key. It’s a union of both the British tradition of technical surety, combined with the American revolution of method acting.
As I noted in my book Reclaiming Parkland, Hanks and Spielberg have definite ambitions in doing historical subjects. They both fancy themselves amateur historians. Their idol in the field was the late Stephen Ambrose. Bridge of Spies is a well-made film. I just wish it had dispensed with a lot of the dramatic license, which I do not think was really necessary. It would also be nice to see these two men do something a little gutsy concerning American history. Like what Jeremy Renner did with his film about Gary Webb, Kill the Messenger. But as I also showed in my book, because of personal reasons, that doesn’t seem possible. At least not right now.
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Hillary Clinton vs JFK: An Addendum
Dr. Jeffrey Sachs has once again written a generally sound piece of criticism on this issue. And once again, he is to be saluted for it. It is indeed encouraging that he gets such pieces into the new MSM, represented by The Huffington Post.
But even if this editorial is actually better than the first, it still seemed to me fitting to remind our readers of what I originally posted back in November, when “Hillary Clinton and the ISIS mess” appeared. So CTKA has decided to repost it.
Like his book on Kennedy’s sponsorship of the Partial Nuclear Test Ban, it does not go quite far enough. (See our review)
He is correct about the CIA beginning its sponsorship of the mujahedeen in 1979 to battle the Soviets in Afghanistan. But he fails to add that one of the Moslem volunteers who went to Afghanistan to fight the Russians was Osama Bin Laden. And most commentators trace the beginning of the Al Qaeda movement from Bin Laden’s experience there. (See the sterling documentary on this subject, The Power of Nightmares.)
But beyond that, 1979 was the year of the first explosion of Islamic fundamentalism in the Middle East. It took place in Iran. It was fueled by the brutal regime the CIA and Allen Dulles installed there when they overthrew the nationalist leader Mossadegh. Every American president — save one — coddled up to the Shah of Iran. All the way until the Islamic Revolution.
The man who paved the way for Sharia Law to take hold in Iran was none other than Warren Commissioner John McCloy. As Kai Bird noes in his book, The Chairman, President Jimmy Carter resisted letting the Shah into the country for medical purposes. When he did, David Rockefeller started a lobbying campaign, which was spearheaded by attorney John McCloy. McCloy knew he could not convert Carter. So, one by one, he picked off his advisors. Until finally, Carter was alone and cornered. But before he caved, he turned and asked: I wonder what you guys are going to advise me to do if they invade our embassy and take our employees hostage?
Therefore, it was McCloy who directly caused the Islamic Revolution to begin in the Middle East. And it was he who greatly influenced the coming to power of Ronald Reagan.
As noted above, there was one president who did not toady up to the Shah. As James Bill chronicles in his book, The Eagle and the Lion, the Kennedy administration actually commissioned a State Department paper on the costs and liabilities of returning Mossadegh to power in Iran. The Shah took this seriously and started the White Revolution in order to make his administration more progressive and egalitarian. Once Kennedy died, this did not continue. President Johnson was quite friendly with the Rockefeller brothers, and Henry Kissinger, Richard Nixon’s National Security Adviser, owed his career to Nelson Rockefeller. Unlike these other presidents, Kennedy understood the dangers of an explosion of Islamic Fundamentalism. In fact, he had warned about it since 1957, and his famous speech encouraging the French to abandon their colonial empire in Algeria.
But there was one other element to this story of Carter changing his mind. During the revolution, before Carter allowed the Shah entry, he was in Los Angeles for a speaking engagement. Both the Secret Service and LAPD detected an assassination plot against him. One of the alleged plotters’ was named Raymond Lee Harvey. Raymond said an accomplice was named Osvaldo Espinoza Ortiz. No one as smart as Carter could have missed the significance of that. (See this Wikipedia article)
There is another point about the Sachs’ article and the Clinton agenda that needs to be elucidated. That is America’s growing coziness with Saudi Arabia. As scholar Philip Muehlenbeck noted, President Kennedy had little time or use for the monarchy of Saudi Arabia. He disdained its disregard of civil liberties, democracy and women’s rights. When King Saud flew to a Boston area hospital in 1961, Kennedy was urged to visit him by his State Department advisors. Not only did he not visit him, he avoided going to Boston and instead went to his vacation home in Palm Beach Florida. When the monarch was released and went to a convalescent home nearby, Kennedy finally relented. But on the way there, he muttered: Why am I seeing this guy? (Muehlenbeck, Betting on the Africans, p. 133)
Kennedy favored the country that DCI Allen Dulles and his brother, Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, decided to abandon – Egypt – because its socialist leader, Nasser, would not toe the line on Red China during the Cold War. During the civil war in Yemen, where Saud backed the monarchy and Nasser backed the revolutionaries, Kennedy decided to back Nasser, at great political expense to himself — including the enmity of Israel’s foreign secretary Golda Meir. (See Muehlenbeck, pp. 132-37)
When John Kennedy was killed two things happened in the Middle East to create the mess that exists today. First, there was a tilt away from Egypt and pan Arabism; second, a bias toward Saudi Arabia and Israel began. As Stanford professor Robert Rakove notes in Kennedy, Johnson and the Nonaligned World, Nasser immediately understood what was happening. On November 23, 1963, Nasser declared a state of mourning. He then ordered Kennedy’s funeral to be shown on Egyptian television four times. One diplomat said Cairo was “overcome by a sense of universal tragedy.” Nasser eventually broke relations with the USA in 1967. (Rakove, pp. xvii ff)
Although Sachs’ article is good, the record of John Kennedy is even better. And, in fact, a piece like this one would probably not get past the moderators, especially in light of their decision to publish an utterly ignorant and repugnant article by Peter Dreier at around the same time. Arrogantly entitled “I Don’t Care who Killed JFK”, it did not mention one word about any of the history chronicled above. It did not mention any of the books I referenced. It did not refer to Nasser, the Iranian coup, John McCloy and the assassination attempt on Carter, or Kennedy’s disdain for Saudi Arabia. And since it did not mention any of those, it could not list the reversals that occurred in the Middle East afterwards.
Peter Dreier should stick to urban planning. His article on JFK proves that underneath arrogance there is always a whiff of stupidity.
(Originally posted November 23, 2015 Reposted February 15, 2016)
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David Talbot, The Devil’s Chessboard
David Talbot’s The Devil’s Chessboard has a massive scope to it. It deals with three main figures. The first, and the main character, is CIA Director Allen Dulles. The second, and a supporting character, is his brother, Secretary of State, John Foster Dulles. The third major character, who is dealt with in the last 270 pages of the book, is President John F. Kennedy.
Beyond focusing on three historical giants, because the framework is a biography of Allen Dulles, the book deals with some extraordinarily complex, controversial, even convoluted, historical events. Because, as the subtitle of the book states, perhaps no other single individual did as much to create the so—called “secret government” of the United States. The one that the mainstream media refuses to recognize, but which the public, in growing numbers, has grown to accept as a fact of life. This dichotomy has done much to feed the growing disbelief by the populace in both the American government, and the American media.
Before we begin, it is important to place Talbot’s book in a historiographical framework (something which, to my knowledge, no reviewer has done yet.) For surprisingly, even though Allen Dulles passed away well over forty years ago, Talbot really did not have many antecedents. There were two previous, what I should call “group biographies”. That is, volumes dealing with Allen Dulles and his brother, and to a lesser extent his sister Eleanor (who also worked in the State Department.) In 1978, about ten years after Allen Dulles’ death, the prolific author Leonard Mosley wrote Dulles, about all three siblings. In 2013, former New York Times reporter Stephen Kinzer wrote The Brothers. There have been two biographies that were solely about Allen Dulles. In 1994, Peter Grose wrote Gentleman Spy: The Life of Allen Dulles. This was, more or less, an official version of Dulles’ life, befitting the fact that Grose was a member of a body that Allen Dulles himself very much controlled, the Council on Foreign Relations. In 1999, James Srodes wrote Allen Dulles: Master of Spies. Srodes has been a business writer for journals like Forbes, before becoming a contributor to conservative journals like American Spectator and the Washington Times.
(I should mention that one other attempted Dulles biography, by Richard Harris Smith, does not appear to have been actually published. In an e-mail communication with this reviewer, Talbot wrote that he did find this mysterious manuscript at the Hoover Institute in Palo Alto. He called it a work in progress, and, as he recalled, Grose had gleaned the best parts of it for his volume. Many years ago, when professor Donald Gibson was trying to secure this biography, he asked Mr. Smith—author of a good book on the OSS—what happened to it. Smith replied that he was not in the mood to talk about conspiracy theories.)
In this reviewer’s opinion, Talbot’s book is a leap beyond these. I don’t want to convey the idea that Talbot is independent of them, for he does reference the previous books. But in this reviewer’s opinion, Talbot goes much further than these previous authors in his attempt to excavate just how involved Allen Dulles was in some of the unsavory aspects that helped create and maintain the Cold War state. Many of these aspects were ignored or minimized in the previous books. But Talbot does not shy away from detailing Dulles’ role in attempting to undermine some of America’s allies, like France during the revolt of the French generals in 1961. Beyond that, he goes much further than they do in explaining Dulles’ dismissal by President Kennedy (it was not all about the Bay of Pigs). And, most interestingly, he highlights Dulles’ rather bizarre insistence in maintaining something like what the author calls an anti-Kennedy government in exile. (Talbot, p. 7) That is, Dulles continued to have regular meetings with high-level CIA officers for years after Kennedy removed him from office. And he does not shy away from the question of Dulles’ involvement in both the assassination of, and the cover-up surrounding Kennedy’s murder.
Criticism should be nothing if not comparative. Therefore, in these ways, The Devil’s Chessboard is a milestone in the field. This is good in itself of course. But one has to wonder: Why did it take nearly a half-century to write such a book? Talbot’s work is not without flaws—which I will detail later. But it is so far ahead of its competitors, and it deals with such a wide variety of important subjects, that I strongly recommend reading it. Most books I review in this field I read once, and then walk outside and throw them in the dumpster. Talbot’s book is so large in scale, so rich in detail, so wide-ranging and relevant in its gallop through time, that I read it twice—all the while writing 43 pages of notes in preparation for this review. It was the only way to do the book justice. And anyone who says they can grasp and appreciate the 620 pages of text in one reading is not being candid.
I
Unlike Srodes and Grose, Talbot does not spend a lot of pages on the formative years of Allen Dulles. I assume that, since the book was quite long in its present form, the author did not think it was necessary to fill in the man’s boyhood, schooling, even his spy services in World War I. Talbot does little more than just mention these matters.
He begins the book in a rather daring way. After the Prologue, we start the story proper in 1942, with Dulles in Bern, Switzerland. He was working for the OSS, ostensibly against the Third Reich. But revealingly, Talbot entitles this chapter, “The Double Agent”, because despite the fact Dulles was supposed to be working to topple the Reich, he was not obeying the orders issued by his president, Franklin Roosevelt, on that all-important matter. In January of 1943, Roosevelt had decided on a policy of unconditional surrender for the Nazi regime. (p. 29) That is, there would be no negotiations by, or for, the Germans in quest of a truce. This was a sharp and visionary stricture by FDR. As the author notes, it was meant to reassure Josef Stalin—the almost pathologically insecure and paranoid Russian dictator—that his allies, the USA and England, would not cut a separate peace with the Nazis, and then turn on him.
With that in mind, Talbot begins the book with a scene between Prince Maximilian Egon von Hohenlohe and Dulles. This meeting directly contravened FDR’s instructions. For the two men were discussing a possible deal that would sacrifice Hitler, but save a large part of the Nazi government. (pp. 31ff) And—exactly what FDR wanted to prevent—they saw Russia as the enemy, and they wanted to use Germany as a bulwark against Stalin. Meanwhile, they would dispose of the genocide problem by sending the surviving Jews of East Europe to Africa. During these rather bizarre, and definitely insubordinate conversations, Dulles told the prince that he had the president’s complete support. Which, of course, he did not. These discussions went on for over two months. And as the author reveals—in what is probably the most shocking aspect of the entire negotiation—the prince was representing none other than Heinrich Himmler, chief of the SS. In other words, Himmler was betraying Hitler, and Dulles was betraying Roosevelt. But further, the implications are stunning: Dulles had no problem working out a truce with the man who was running the Final Solution, thereby leaving him alive and free and running a largely Nazi state.
This opening is both daring and quite suitable. For, like a musical prelude, it sets the thematic overtones of the book at the outset. Dulles will not abide by the wishes of his superior in the White House. He then begins to formulate his own personal foreign policy, oblivious to how it violates the policy of his president. Further, it does not matter to him if he is, literally, dealing with the devil. This is all appropriate and, in a structural way, thematically sound—because this same concept will be repeated in 1961. Except then, Dulles will be insubordinate, not once, but three times within the first year of the presidency of John F. Kennedy. With just cause, Kennedy will then terminate him. However, as the author notes, Dulles had been in power for so long that he began to manage and control what the author outlines as an “anti-Kennedy junta” in exile. Except it was not really in exile; it operated within the confines of the USA, but in secret.
Why was Dulles predisposed to negotiate with a representative of Himmler’s? In addition to seeing Marxism as the enemy around the corner, Allen Dulles and his brother, future Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, had made a lot of money serving the business interests of Nazi Germany. (pp. 19-28) Their law firm, Sullivan and Cromwell, was one of the largest and most powerful international corporate firms in America. And they had extensive dealings with Germany, way past the date when others had refused to deal with the Nazis since it had become obvious what Hitler was up to. In fact, Sullivan and Cromwell went as far as to set up phony shell companies to disguise the identity of IG Farben, along with Krupp, two of the largest business supporters of the Reich.
Very pointedly, as he is outlining all of this double-dealing with Nazis and their agents, Talbot also makes another telling observation about the personality of Allen Dulles. While having no qualms about dealing with the Nazis, even Himmler, Dulles essentially sat on more than one early warning about what the Reich had planned for the Jews of Eastern Europe. These were credible reports by Edward Schulte, Fritz Kolba, Rudolf Vrba and Alfred Wetzler. These men all had direct testimony about what the Nazis were doing after rounding up all these Jews. Schulte had witnessed an early demonstration for Himmler of what zyklon gas could do in a shower chamber. (p. 48) Kolbe stole documents about what Hitler planned on doing with the Hungarian Jews being transported by night on trains. (pp. 53, 54) Vrba and Wetzler escaped from Auschwitz and wrote a 40-page report on what was happening there. (p. 56) Dulles sat on the first, summarized the second falsely, and he sent the last one to Cordell Hull, knowing he would be hesitant to act.
But trying to preserve a large part of the Third Reich, while delaying any rescue attempts of the Jews, was not enough for Dulles. Near the end of the war, Allen Dulles began his attempts to save certain members of the Reich from the hangman’s noose at Nuremburg. Near the end of the war, with the allies tracking him down, Himmler tried to get to Dulles in Switzerland, thinking he could find sanctuary there. He failed in this attempt, was captured, and killed himself by taking a cyanide capsule.
General Karl Wolff, Himmler’s chief of staff, was more fortunate. At the end of the war, Wolff was chief of all SS forces in Italy. As with Himmler, Dulles was trying to arrange a separate peace with the SS man prior to the end of the war. As the author notes, the aim of this was to prevent any influence from the Russians who were torrentially driving into Germany. Dulles wanted the Soviets to have no influence in Austria or the northern city of Trieste in Italy. (p. 76) As with his earlier dealings with Hohenlohe, Dulles falsely told Wolff that he was representing Roosevelt in these negotiations. (p. 77) Dulles told him he would probably be the Minister of Education in a new Germany after the war. (p. 87)
But the fall of the Reich changed all this. The Italian uprising against fascism literally endangered Wolff’s life. A cohort of Dulles saved him. Dulles then kept Wolff out of the first two rounds of trials at Nuremburg, even though the man arranged transportation to places like Treblinka and supervised some medical experiments there. Wolff also arranged for slave labor from the camps to large private contributors to the SS. (pp. 82-84) While in a rather comfortable detention—Dulles actually got him the use of a yacht—Dulles defended the SS manager from the worst of the charges brought against him by the Nuremburg prosecutors. These negotiations went on for month after month. Meanwhile, Dulles said Wolff should be in a hospital since he was suffering from nervous exhaustion. (p. 88)
When the charade was over, Dulles got Wolff’s penalty reduced to time served—less than four years. By the fifties, Wolff was fully rehabilitated. To the point that the State Department, under Foster Dulles’ control, granted him a visa. (p. 93) This same pattern was largely repeated with Eugen Dollmann, an assistant to Wolff.
But probably the most infamous Nazi who Dulles helped escape Nuremburg was Reinhard Gehlen. Talbot devotes a chapter to Hitler’s former chief of espionage on the eastern front. He begins it in a novel way: with Gehlen and a friend (also a former Nazi) watching the legendary 1951 World Series between the New York Giants and the Yankees, after which Joe DiMaggio retired. Dulles had helped arrange for the CIA to get the pair tickets, with a CIA escort.
From here, the author flashes back to the rescue of Gehlen from the Russians at the end of World War II. Like Himmler, Gehlen was making his way toward Dulles in hopes he could persuade the OSS spymaster in Bern to rescue him. For Gehlen was involved in a very large and heinous crime: the torture and sometimes murder of thousands of prisoners of war on the Russian Front. It turns out that Gehlen did not really have to seek out Dulles, as Dulles was searching for him. (Ibid, pp. 270-71) Other voices involved, like Army Intelligence, saw no point in enlisting Gehlen. But Dulles won the debate. After setting up a deal with Gehlen to be part of American intelligence after the war, the Nazi now began to recruit former SS officers into his organization, e.g., Konrad Fiebig, later charged with killing thousands of Jews in Belarus. (p. 275)
But this did not matter to the Dulles brothers because Gehlen delivered the goods they wanted: an inflated and venomous view of the USSR as a juggernaut intent on world domination. Except the Nazi went beyond that: “We live in an age which war is a paramount activity of man with the total annihilation of the enemy as its primary aim.” (p. 278) Yet even the leaders of West Germany did not want Gehlen around after the country was declared an independent republic. But again, Dulles resisted the efforts of Konrad Adenauer to dump Gehlen, probably because Gehlen had contingency plots to take over the West German government if it drifted too far left. (pp. 282-83)
II
After World War II and his salvaging of so many former Nazis, Dulles went back to work for a while at Sullivan and Cromwell. These previous political moves helped his clients of course, because now they could rebuild business relations with Germany, while Dulles used some of these former Nazis to crank up the Cold War with Russia—something even more beneficial to his clients.
One of the key moves Dulles made was with the Noel Field affair. This has been one of the most puzzling aspects of Cold War history. Noel Field was a rather naïve State Department employee who was very much impressed by the anti-Fascist heroism during the Spanish Civil War. In 1940, he resigned and worked for the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee’s Relief Mission in southern France. During the war he worked as an informant for Dulles.
After the war, Field moved from Switzerland to Prague. He had allegedly been offered a teaching position at a university there. Shortly after he arrived in 1949, he was arrested. After Noel disappeared, his brother Herman began to search for him. He was also arrested. When his wife went looking for him, she was arrested. (pp. 140-43) The question all three detainees were asked during interrogation was, “How do you know Allen Dulles?”
It turns out that Dulles was using Noel Field. And his family. With the helpful ear of his protégée Frank Wisner, who ran CIA intelligence operations at the time, Dulles had concocted something called Operation Splinter Factor. (p. 151) Taking advantage of Stalin’s paranoia, Dulles had spread the word that the Fields’ going to Eastern Europe was part of a plot to destabilize the USSR. When the Fields did not confess—since there was nothing to confess to—Stalin went batty. He arrested over 170,000 Communist Party members. Show trials and executions followed. (p. 155) The Fields were not released until Stalin died in 1954.
A useful tool for Dulles to ratchet up the Cold War stateside was a young California congressman named Richard Nixon. Nixon first met Dulles in 1947 on a trip to Europe to promote the Marshall Plan. Representative Christian Herter was also on that voyage via the Queen Mary. These two men seduced Nixon into going along with the Marshall Plan, which most Republicans questioned. (pp. 158-161)
But Talbot writes that this was probably not the first time Nixon met Dulles. Borrowing from author/investigator John Loftus, he says that the introduction probably occurred in 1945. Nixon was an ensign about to leave the Navy, but he was wrapping up some matters when he discovered some documents relating to the Nazis and the Dulles brothers. He contacted Allen Dulles and the OSS chief told him to hush it up. In return, he and his brother would help him run for political office in California once he was decommissioned. Dulles came through—in spades. He had to, because Nixon’s opponent, Jerry Voorhis, wanted to shine some light on Wall Street’s cooperation with the Nazis during and prior to the war. (pp. 162-63)
With tons of cash at his disposal, Nixon began one of the great smear campaigns in American political history. The casting of Voorhis as a commie or commie sympathizer was complete fiction. And Nixon knew it. He later said, “Of course, I knew Jerry Voorhis wasn’t a communist. I had to win. That’s the thing you don’t understand. The important thing is to win.” (p. 166) This Machiavellian code, combined with barrels full of money, helped launch one of the most pernicious political careers in post-World-War-II history. And with it, the Second Red Scare.
In August of 1948, congressman Nixon met secretly with a small coterie of inside-the-beltway high rollers. Among them were the Dulles brothers. Nixon’s House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) had just accused Alger Hiss of being a Soviet spy. This was largely based on the word of one Whitaker Chambers. Chambers said he was a former communist who broke with the party. He then turned into a conservative Time magazine writer, as well as a communist fear monger. The problem for Nixon was that Hiss had denied Chamber’s accusations of them knowing each other in the communist underground. Appearing before the committee, Hiss had done well. Some members of the runaway committee thought they should abandon the matter. Nixon was not one of them.
But he wanted to check with some heavy hitters in the Republican Party before proceeding, because he knew he needed their backing and support. John Foster Dulles was important since he ran the Carnegie Endowment for Peace where Hiss now worked. (p. 169) Nixon brought the committee’s files to this meeting, which indicated to him, and the HUAC, that Hiss was lying when he said he did not know Chambers. These files convinced the Dulles brothers that Nixon was correct and they approved his efforts to corral Hiss. As Foster Dulles later said, “It was clear he did not want to proceed until people like myself had agreed that he really had a cause to justify going ahead.” (p. 170) After all, it was a presidential election year.
As Joan Brady makes clear in her new book, America’s Dreyfus, Nixon had choreographed the proceedings perfectly, because at the time he made his denial, Hiss had not seen Chambers. When he asked to see him, Nixon always found a reason to avoid such a confrontation. Nixon knew, as Hiss did not, that the two men did know each other—except, at the time they did, Chambers went by a different name (one of many he used, perhaps as many as thirteen). That name was George Crossley. Further, in the 12-year interim, Chambers had gained something like fifty pounds, lost some hair, and greatly cleaned up his appearance, including extensive dental work. Which is why Hiss demanded a face-to-face meeting. He did not want to rely on photos—although Hiss suspected it was probably Crossley. On cue, when they did finally meet, Hiss asked Chambers if he used the name Crossley. Chambers denied it. This was a lie. (Brady, p. 123)
In fact, Chambers told so many lies that it was almost laughable that Hiss was the one indicted for perjury. But HUAC was a completely politically motivated apparatus. They were responsible for the infamous Hollywood Ten. As Talbot notes, they might have been responsible for the death of Harry Dexter White, a brilliant New Deal economist who was not in the best of health when he appeared before them. After he rode home by train, he died of a heart attack. (Talbot, p. 184) The chairman, J. Parnell Thomas, was later convicted for fraud. (Brady, p. 158)
At Hiss’ first trial, the prosecutor made a mistake. In his opening comments he said that if the jury did not believe Chambers, he had no case. (Brady, p. 228) Hiss’ first lawyer, Lloyd Stryker, caught Chambers in so many lies that one commentator wrote: getting another lie out of Chambers was like squeezing juice from an orange. But Prosecutor Murphy had the infamous typewriter. This was the legendary Woodstock #230099. Allegedly, Hiss’ wife used this typewriter to replicate the documents Hiss stole before giving them to Chambers to pass on to the Soviet underground in America.
Which is idiotic on its face. If Hiss were a spy he would just photograph the documents. But for Nixon to make a case, there had to be a direct connection between the documents, Hiss and Chambers. As Joan Brady comments—and every follower of the case now knows—Woodstock #230099 was the wrong typewriter. The serial number betrayed it had not been manufactured at the time the prosecution said it came into the hands of Hiss. (Brady, p. 315) Unfortunately for Hiss, his lawyers did not find this out until after the second trial, where he was convicted of perjury. Suffice it to say, if Stryker had known about this subterfuge, this combined with his demolition of Chambers would have been enough to stop Nixon right there. And then perhaps, as Brady and others have pointed out, the Frankenstein of Joe McCarthy might never have been unleashed.
When confronted with these troubling facts, the late author Allen Weinstein—the Gerald Posner of the Hiss case—always insisted: But the typewriter was found by the Hiss camp. The problem is that it had been found previous to that. (Brady, p. 218-19) Realizing it was the wrong typewriter, the FBI then built a machine itself. According to John Dean, Nixon actually admitted this to him. (ibid, p. 316) What makes that so compelling is this: the alleged Hiss investigator who found the typewriter and delivered it to the defense was a double agent. (ibid)
A point brought out by Brady which supports Talbot is that early on, Hiss asked Foster Dulles if he should go over to where Chambers was working and confront him. At least he would now be able to see the man in person. Dulles advised him not to. (Brady, p. 79) At the second trial, Foster Dulles appeared as a witness against Hiss. And Allen Dulles furnished Nixon with various intelligence files on the case. Indeed, “Nixon was impressed by the Dulles brothers’ bold decision to politically exploit the Hiss affair rather than run from it.” (Talbot, p. 171)
The author delves into something that Brady takes much further. A mystery about the case has always been why Hiss did not allow his stepson Timmy to testify at either trial. Talbot theorizes that there may have been a homosexual tryst between Hiss and Chambers. But in Brady’s book she suggests that the target of Chambers’ raging homosexuality was Timmy. The FBI discovered this apparently through Chambers, who reported it as a rumor, one he did not deny. (Brady, pp. 270-71) It was the discovery of this child abuse—Timothy was only 8 or 9 at the time—that caused Hiss to split from Chambers. If this is true, it greatly explains why Chambers told so many lies for Nixon. And why Timothy did not testify.
All in all, Nixon did a good job for his masters. He had successfully unleashed the fear of communist spies in our midst, even in our government. In turn, the Dulles brothers recommended him to Eisenhower as a VP candidate. (p. 185) Another Red Scare was on, and it would help the Eisenhower/Nixon ticket win in 1952. Allen Dulles further rewarded Nixon later, during the final stages of that election. It was then discovered that Nixon had taken a six-figure bribe from Romanian industrialist Nicolae Malaxa. But in a brilliant stroke of luck, the teller at the bank where it was deposited turned it over to some rivals of Malaxa. Unsuspectingly, they gave it to their CIA handler. When Drew Pearson reported the story, Dulles promptly arranged to have the evidence deep-sixed. (Talbot, p. 191) Which cinched the election for the Republicans. And guaranteed the Dulles brothers would be prominently featured in the upcoming administration.
III
As Talbot notes, James Forrestal got Allen Dulles on the Jackson-Correa Committee to recommend ideas to reform the CIA. This secured him a job as Deputy Director. (This was about the same time Dulles was creating the National Committee for a Free Europe by plundering Nazi gold. See Talbot, p. 150) Once Eisenhower was elected, it was just a matter of time until Foster Dulles got the president to promote his brother from Deputy Director to DCI. Once this was accomplished, with Allen at CIA and Foster as Secretary of State, as Talbot notes, the Dulles Imperium was on.
An advantage the brothers had in setting up their regime was that, with the Hiss case, they had done a good job in bringing the New Deal into question. Hiss had been part of Franklin Roosevelt’s Ivy League brain trust. He even helped form the United Nations for Harry Truman. Therefore, the establishment of the Red Scare at home now justified the fear of what Foster Dulles called “Godless communism abroad”.
But there was one more element to setting up this new imperial order. That was the Dulles connection to the Power Elite. Talbot adroitly introduces this by using the man who actually coined that term, C. Wright Mills. As the author writes, for the Dulles brothers, “Democracy … was an impediment to the smooth functioning of the corporate state.” (p. 197) Franklin Roosevelt was well aware of this oligarchy and its advocates. He once wrote, “The real truth … is that a financial element in the larger centers has owned the Government ever since the day of Andrew Jackson.” (ibid) Therefore, their backing of Nixon, and the creation of the Red Scare, all of this was a great opportunity for them to “prove masters of exploiting the anxious state of permanent vigilance that accompanied the Cold War.” (p. 195) As Mills referred to men like the Dulles brothers and Nixon, they believed in a “crackpot realism”; and in the name of that realism, “they have constructed a paranoid reality of their own.” (p. 198)
How far would they go in this respect? As the author notes, in 1952, Allen Dulles tried to convince DCI Walter B. Smith to assassinate Stalin at a Paris summit meeting. He also funneled funds from CIA front groups to the Eisenhower/Nixon ticket. (p. 203) This is how realpolitik worked for the Dulles brothers. In comparison to them, Henry Kissinger was an amateur. But Talbot does a nice job of sketching in the fact that as Nelson Rockefeller was a benefactor of Kissinger, the relationship between the Dulles clan and the Rockefeller brothers went back much further, and was intricately intertwined. (See pages 550-59) And to his credit, Talbot mentions the open letter from David Rockefeller to President Kennedy, which was suggested by publisher Henry Luce. In this letter, Rockefeller (the real chairman of the Eastern Establishment) criticized many of Kennedy’s economic policies. And he also expressed disdain for the Alliance for Progress. Even after Kennedy was dead, Nelson Rockefeller made a speech criticizing his foreign policy.
In his treatment of the two great disasters that the Dulles brothers orchestrated—the overthrow of the democratic governments of Iran and Guatemala—Talbot tries a different approach. He writes from a more personal level on both coups. For example, he notes that when the Shah fled Iran, he went to the same hotel Allen Dulles was staying at in Rome. This was no coincidence. Dulles was there to relay the progress of the overthrow and to firm up the resolve of the deposed dictator. In fact, Dulles actually flew back to Tehran with the Shah after the dirty work had been done. (p. 237) Dulles then manipulated the American press coverage of the coup, while covert officer Kim Roosevelt—who ran the operation on the ground—got a nice job with Gulf Oil afterwards.
With Guatemala—the following year—Talbot poignantly concentrates on the unfortunate personal fate that befell the family of Jacobo Arbenz after Howard Hunt arranged his family’s flight out of Guatemala. In the face of a CIA manipulated civil war, Arbenz had abdicated. His family became a band of wandering minstrels, going from country to country, until Jacobo died in Mexico City from an electric shock at the age of 57. But not before his daughter committed suicide. Arbenz’ only mistake was that he wanted more of his nation’s wealth to go to its citizens and less to United Fruit. If he had gone along with the wishes of the North Americans, he would have been a rich man, since they offered him two million dollars to shut his mouth. (p. 260) Instead, the fascist dictatorships that followed Arbenz ended up killing about 250,000 Guatemalans—in order to save the country from communism. Apparently, this is what Foster Dulles meant when he announced that their regime would be a A Policy of Boldness.
But the Dulles brothers were not just brutal abroad, they were also quite curt and short with their own employees. In this regard, Talbot provides nice summaries of the deaths of both Frank Olson and Jimmy Kronthal. Most readers understand the story of the former. Olson was part of the CIA’s MK/Ultra drug experimentation program, part of the aim of which was to produce a mind-controlled assassin. After Olson was doused with a dose of LSD, he allegedly fell to his death from the tenth floor of a Manhattan hotel. James McCord, part of the CIA’s Office of Security, called the case a suicide. (p. 296) The family did not buy it. Decades later, they had the body exhumed. The panel doing the examination ruled (with one exception) that there were traces of blunt force trauma on the head and chest area—before the fall. Dr. James Starrs, leader of the panel, told the press afterward, “I am exceedingly skeptical of the view that Dr. Olson went through the window on his own.” (ibid) In the latter case, Kronthal was a promising CIA officer who Dulles personally liked. The problem was that the Soviets found out he was a homosexual. They set up a honey trap for him, and then successfully turned him. (p. 298) The CIA found out about his doubling. In a private meeting at his personal residence, Dulles confronted him with the evidence. Kronthal then walked home, which was just two blocks from Dulles’ residence. Trailing him were two Office of Security agents. He left a note saying he was not to be disturbed the next morning. But later on, two men came to his house and told his housekeeper he had to attend a crucial meeting. When they went to his bedroom door, they found his dead body, fully clothed, with an empty vial next to it. (p. 299) Curiously, the autopsy failed to determine the cause of death, or what was in the vial next to his bed. CIA officer Robert Crowley came to believe that his suicide was assisted.
One of the highlights of the book is Talbot’s chronicle of what was probably the first case of extraordinary rendition on American territory. It occurred in 1956. This was the too little mentioned case of Jesus de Galindez, a professor at Columbia University.
After serving on the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War, Galindez decided to move to the Dominican Republic. There, he decided to become an academic. The problem is that someone as intelligent and democratic as Galindez would find it hard to swallow the bizarre and dissolute rule of Rafael Trujillo. As authors like Jim Hougan have noted, the word bloodthirsty seems to have been created for the reign of Trujillo, who State Department employees often referred to as a Central American Dracula in their memos. (Hougan, Spooks, p. 104) Trujillo was one of the early appreciators of snuff film pornography. He was also an inhabitant of the outer limits of torture; e.g., he would often order the suspected traitor’s eyebrows sewn to their brows so they could not close their eyes. Once he was deposed, palace films were found of children being forced to mate with animals. All this while he was looting his country. He reportedly had $840,000,000 on deposit in Swiss banks, a mind-boggling sum for 1960. (Hougan, p. 109)
The Dulles brothers, as well as Nixon, not only tolerated Trujillo; they embraced him. Nixon once said that Americans needed to back the Dominican dictator because, after all, “Spaniards had many talents, but government was not among them.” (Talbot, p. 318) Which is an odd comment coming from a man who ended his career with the Watergate scandal.
As if Trujillo did not have enough money on hand, the CIA and State Department passed on millions more to him each year, much of which he pocketed himself. After he left the country, Galindez wrote a 750-page expose on Trujillo. And he was also critical of the tilt of Foster Dulles’ foreign policy. (Talbot, p. 321) When Trujillo’s agents heard about the manuscript, they first tried to bribe the professor to prevent it from being turned into a book. When that failed, two Dominican thugs sat in on a class. When that did not do the trick, Allen Dulles helped the despot by farming out the Galindez kidnapping to Robert Maheu. The infamous Maheu was a former FBI man who left the Bureau to set up a CIA front company called Robert Maheu and Associates. Like Guy Banister’s operation in New Orleans, this was supposed to be a private detective agency. But it did little of that sort of work. Rather, it carried out domestic covert operations, like this one for the CIA, which was not supposed to perform covert ops stateside. After Galindez was kidnapped, he was flown to the Dominican Republic. He was confronted with his manuscript, and when he refused to renounce it, Trujillo ordered up his specialty. He first had the man boiled in water; he then fed him to his sharks. (p. 322)
But there was a problem that lingered after the murder. The pilot Maheu hired did not know what the end result of the rendition would be. So he began to talk. He was sent to see Trujillo. He then disappeared. This caused a lot of headlines in the papers that Dulles did not like. Neither did the Justice Department. So the authorities now arrested John Frank, who worked for Maheu as an agent on Trujillo’s estate. To make the Frank saga short: he was arrested, tried and convicted, but released on appeal. There was a lot of pressure placed on witnesses not to show up at the second trial. Therefore, the charges were plea-bargained down to Frank not registering as a foreign agent. In other words, although the authorities had a very good idea what had really happened, no one was ever arrested for the two murder/kidnappings.
IV
Talbot begins to segue into the major topic of the last part of the book by briefly outlining the close relationship between Dulles and his counter-intelligence chief James Angleton. Today Angleton is the man who many experts, like John Newman, believe to be Lee Harvey Oswald’s ultimate control agent. And later in the book Talbot devotes a long section to the indications that Oswald was some kind of lower level intelligence agent. Dulles gave Angleton many top-flight assignments. For instance, he was the CIA liaison to the foreign desks of major countries like France, West Germany, Turkey, Taiwan and, most importantly, Israel. He also had liaison duties with the FBI, and, at times, with the Mafia. (pp. 336-37) Talbot notes that in his approach to Meyer Lansky to attempt to kill Castro, Dulles did not use Angleton. He employed a lower level officer named Sam Halpern. (In his previous book Brothers, Talbot exposed Halpern as blaming these machinations with the Mafia on the Kennedys.)
And this forms the introduction to one of the most interesting passages in The Devil’s Chessboard. One that this reviewer had never read about before. Let us call it the Shelburne vs. Hotel Theresa incident. In 1960, Fidel Castro visited the USA for the second time. By then, Allen Dulles and the White House—Foster Dulles had died in 1959—had decided that Castro was a communist and there was no point in dealing with him. When Castro and his entourage tried to book a suite of rooms at the Shelburne Hotel near the United Nations, the management demanded a twenty thousand dollar deposit. As Talbot clearly implies, this was on orders from Washington. Castro refused to pay. And in a beautifully directed turnabout, he moved his company to the Hotel Theresa in Harlem. (p. 339) Once ensconced there, leaders like Nasser, Nehru and Khrushchev visited him at the hotel. The man who took charge of the transfer was none other than Malcolm X. (p. 342)
Castro delivered what none other than I. F. Stone called a tour de force speech at the UN. The spectacle at the Theresa, and Castro’s powerful speech, caused the Fair Play for Cuba Committee to sponsor a party in his honor in the ballroom of the hotel. It was attended by such leftist luminaries as Allen Ginsberg, Langston Hughes and C. Wright Mills. (p. 345)
In other words, the Dulles/White House operation was not just blunted. It was routed. After this September 1960 incident, two things happened which Talbot uses masterfully as a lesson in foreshadowing. First, the CIA now gets in contact with Maheu again. This time, the target is Castro. But secondly, the Theresa incident occurred in the middle of the presidential race. Two weeks after Castro left Harlem, candidate John Kennedy decided to book a room at the Hotel Theresa. He then spoke to a large crowd outside. (p. 349) He was joined by Eleanor Roosevelt and Representative Adam Clayton Powell. He gave an altogether memorable speech. One that revealed that it was Kennedy, not Nixon, who understood the temper of the times. Talbot quotes much of it verbatim:
I am delighted to come to Harlem and I think the whole world should come here and the whole world should recognize we all live right next to each other, whether here in Harlem or on the other side of the globe. We should be glad that Castro and Khrushchev came to the United States. We should not fear the twentieth century, for the worldwide revolution, which we see all around us is part of the original American Revolution. (p. 350)
To put it mildly, this is not what Dulles and Eisenhower would have had Nixon say. But it presages the clash of ideas between Kennedy and Dulles that would take place almost immediately upon Kennedy assuming power. Actually, the clash began before Kennedy was inaugurated.
One of the most poetic and elegantly written sections of the book is Talbot’s reverie on the final days of Patrice Lumumba. During the campaign, it became obvious that Kennedy opposed the Dulles/Eisenhower alliance with European imperialists to keep control of the Third World. As historian Philip Muehlenbeck noted in his study of the subject, Kennedy referred to Africa over 400 times during his 1960 campaign. He once even asked Democratic foreign policy advisor Averill Harriman if he should openly back Lumumba. Lumumba was a dynamic, anti-colonial leader who was trying to shake off the Belgian colonialist shackles from his native Congo. He was deemed to be so dangerous to American interests that Eisenhower ordered Dulles to hatch a plot to kill him. Like Arbenz, his true crime was that he wanted to use the enormous mineral wealth of his country to enrich its citizens and not European and American corporations.
On August 18, 1960, the NSC, under the guidance of Eisenhower and Allen Dulles, decided that Lumumba had to be eliminated. At first, the CIA went to the ceremonial president, Joseph Kasavubu, the man Lumumba had beaten in a democratic election. They asked him to stage a coup. He refused. (Jonathan Kwitny, Endless Enemies, p. 63) CIA station chief Larry Devlin then went to Josef Mobutu, an army colonel, to do the job. Some reports say Devlin wanted a wholesale disposal—that is, the elimination of Lumumba and his two closest political allies. Later Kasavubu swung over to the CIA’s side. On September 14th, the American inspired and designed coup succeeded.
After he was deposed by Mobutu, Lumumba was placed under house arrest. But he escaped. As Talbot describes it, he was running for his life. But right before he got to the sanctuary of his followers, he was separated from his wife and child. He then crossed back across the river to get them. It was this that allowed him to be captured. (Talbot, p. 382) Once this occurred, Lumumba was as good as gone. For Dulles had assigned two upper level officers to make sure Lumumba was now killed. These were Leopoldville station chief Devlin and Director of Plans, Dick Bissell. Dulles actually flew Bissell to Rome so he could monitor events more closely. Bissell assigned two hired assassins, codenamed QJ WIN and WI ROGUE, to kill Lumumba by either poison toxin or by rounding up an execution squad. (Talbot, p. 380) But these plots were called off in favor of one that afforded more plausible deniability.
While Dulles was getting the New York Times to print smear after smear about Lumumba, Lumumba’s captors decided to ship him to his direct opposition in Katanga province, the political base of Mobutu and his ally Moise Tshombe. Devlin knew about this three days in advance. Since he was in constant contact with Bissell and Devlin, Dulles had to have known also. (pp. 384-85) They allowed it to happen, knowing Lumumba’s fate. In fact, it later came out that the CIA picked up Lumumba’s corpse and pondered how to dispose of it.
As the author points out, Kennedy was racked with pain when he heard the news of Lumumba’s death. But he did not find out about it until almost a month after it happened. The CIA—Dulles, Bissell, and Devlin—deliberately kept it from him. As did the ambassador to Congo in the State Department. All these men had to know they were contradicting Kennedy’s announced reform policy for both Congo and Lumumba. Indeed, it is likely that Dulles speeded up the plot to make sure Lumumba was dead before Kennedy was inaugurated—which he was. It’s hard to believe that Kennedy did not later understand what had happened here. For the tragedy of the people of the Congo was truly epic. As with Arbenz and Guatemala, Congo fell under the claw of Josef Mobutu’s dictatorship, which lasted for well over three decades. Mobutu was simply a stand-in for European imperial powers, allowing them to sack the country, while he became perhaps the richest man in Africa. Congo has never really recovered from the death of Lumumba. As Jonathan Kwitny once wrote:
… the precedent for … 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. (Kwitny, ibid, 75)
As good as the writing on Lumumba is, Talbot’s section on the CIA’s aid in the April 1961 attempt to overthrow Charles DeGaulle might be even better. Truth be told, it’s one of the absolute pinnacles of the book. This dramatic encounter has been touched on tangentially in other JFK- or Dulles-related volumes. But I have never seen it treated as thoroughly, or at this length before. At a talk he did in Los Angeles, the author mentioned that he found a book published in France, and had it translated into English. It must have been a good book, because the details Talbot provides were almost all new to this reviewer.
What Talbot is describing is the bold attempt by the leaders of a dissident military faction in Algeria to invade Paris, in order to force DeGaulle to abdicate. There were four main generals who formed the axis of French soldiers who vehemently opposed DeGaulle’s policy to cut loose the French colony of Algeria, a policy on which Kennedy was in agreement with DeGaulle. Recall that in 1957, Senator Kennedy made a brilliant speech from the Senate floor harshly criticizing France’s colonial war to maintain control of Algeria. It was this speech, more than anything else, which brought Kennedy into direct conflict with the Dulles brothers and Vice-President Nixon. Kennedy predicted that if France did not voluntarily give up Algeria, she would find herself in the same situation she just emerged from after her defeat in Vietnam. The Algerian war caused the fall of the Fourth Republic and the return to power of DeGaulle—who understood the wisdom of Kennedy’s words. Just as the military veterans in Algeria did not.
On April 22, 1961, the dissident French generals seized power in Algiers. They immediately spread the word that they would next strike in Paris. (Talbot, p. 412) The plan was a combined paratrooper and tank attack. Once these assaults were in process, the Elysée Palace would then be seized as well as other key government outposts. Anticipating the attack, DeGaulle prohibited air traffic over Paris, and cinemas were shut down.
The leader of the coup was Maurice Challe. Challe had been a top figure in Algeria and then a NATO commander in 1960-61. Through that association, he had relationships with high-ranking French officers. NATO also helped him meet American Pentagon and CIA representatives. As Talbot notes, the French papers stated that both Dulles and Bissell backed the coup. (p. 414) In fact, one paper called the coup attempt, “The Strategy of Allen Dulles.” The CIA did not like the many disagreements DeGaulle had with NATO policy, and they thought the Soviets would move into Algeria if France left. What’s more, the CIA actually tried to drum up corporate support for the coup and American aid for it in Paris. One counselor to the Henry Luce press stated, “An operation is being prepared in Algiers to put a stop to communism and we will not fail as we did in Cuba.” (ibid) Challe ignited the coup because he thought he had American backing all the way up to JFK.
In this, he had been duped. And since we have seen this MO before, it was probably by Dulles. Scotty Reston of the New York Times reported that in spite of Dulles’ denials, the CIA was indeed “involved in an embarrassing liaison with the anti-Gaullist officers.” This had contributed to the growing perception at the White House that the Agency “had gone beyond the bounds of an objective intelligence gathering Agency and has become the advocate of men and policies that have embarrassed the Administration.” (p. 415)
The conflict between Dulles and DeGaulle went back to World War II. As OSS chief in Bern, Dulles opposed the segment of the French Resistance headed by DeGaulle. He preferred a more rightwing leader. (Considering that DeGaulle was, at most, a moderate, this shows how far right Dulles was oriented politically.) DeGaulle himself accused Dulles of scheming against his Resistance leadership at the end of the war. Dulles backed a more conservative rival. In typical Dulles methodology, this man had betrayed DeGaulle’s assistant to the Gestapo. (ibid) Once assuming power again, DeGaulle had grown so suspicious of Dulles he had tried to purge CIA influence in the capital of Paris, which was difficult to do since Dulles journeyed there each year to personally pay off informants and agents. The relationship was so chilly that DeGaulle refused to see the DCI personally. Dulles then wrote distorted reports to Kennedy, one which presented the possibility of a coup over DeGaulle’s mishandling of Algeria. In another memo, Dulles predicted DeGaulle would be gone by the end of 1961. And the basis for removal would be Algeria. (p. 417)
During the coup attempt, Kennedy called Hervé Alphand, the French ambassador in Washington. He told him that America supported DeGaulle. But he could not vouch for the CIA, because “the CIA is such a vast and poorly controlled machine that the most unlikely maneuvers might be true.” JFK also asked for information on suspected Americans aiding the coup so he could deal with them after. Finally, Kennedy told Ambassador James Gavin that the USA should extend help to DeGaulle in resisting the coup. (In some versions—which Talbot does not explicitly cite—it is stated that Kennedy offered France the use of the Sixth Fleet.) Although he appreciated the offer, DeGaulle declined. But after the calls, Kennedy went public with this support for the embattled French premier.
The plot fizzled because DeGaulle resorted to the airwaves. In a dynamic speech, he appealed directly to the people to preserve France. (p. 420) His ringing plea rallied the populace, especially on the left. A general strike was called; there were massive demonstrations against the Algerian war; hundreds of people went to airfields to stop any troops from landing from Algeria; civilians went to government buildings to protect them from attack. In the face of all this—which promised a brutal and bloody civil war—Challe surrendered.
But that is not the end of the story. Because later, Talbot actually caps this gripping chronicle. After the author relates the events of Kennedy’s murder, he quotes a much-suppressed interview of DeGaulle. This was made by one of his ministers upon DeGaulle’s return from Kennedy’s funeral in Washington. The French premier compared what happened to JFK with what almost happened to him over Algeria. He said Kennedy’s security forces were in cahoots with a renegade military. And the plotters invented Oswald as a cover story to cover their tracks. He continued in this vein by saying that Oswald was probably supposed to be shot. When he was not, Jack Ruby became the clean-up guy. DeGaulle concluded by explaining the rationale of the plotters: “Better to assassinate an innocent man than to let a civil war break out. Better an injustice than disorder.” (p. 567) It’s amazing that this analysis was made within days of Kennedy’s murder. The only political leader I know who had a comparable rapid understanding of what really happened was Fidel Castro.
Talbot’s description of the support by Dulles for the attempted coup against DeGaulle is written in tandem with his summary of Operation Zapata, the failed Bay of Pigs invasion—quite appropriately, since they happened at almost the same time. Talbot here conveys what has now become the accepted wisdom of those who have studied the declassified record of Zapata: namely, that the CIA deliberately tricked Kennedy into going along with it, knowing it had almost no chance of succeeding. Dulles and Bissell misjudged Kennedy. They thought that once he saw the assault crumbling, he would send in the Navy, which Admiral Arleigh Burke had stationed right off the coast of Florida. Unauthorized, he placed two battalions of Marines on board. (p. 401)
But he does bring in some fresh insights. He writes that the Zapata operation was staffed with some of the lowest graded officers in the CIA. In fact, almost half of them were graded in either the lowest third, and some of them in the lowest tenth percentile. Robert Amory, who wrote a book on amphibious landings, was not asked to join. (p. 397)
When Kennedy refused to send in American forces, after more than one personal plea, the operation was doomed. Immediately after, two reports were commissioned. One was by General Maxwell Taylor and one by Lyman Kirkpatrick of the CIA. Bobby Kennedy’s presence on the former panel sunk Dulles as a witness, and even Burke. President Kennedy was distraught, and then angry. He ordered a Reduction in Force—almost one in five CIA employees were retired. Afterwards Lyndon Johnson said, “You don’t hardly ever see the chiefs of staff around the White House anymore.” LBJ went on to say that the new first advisor to President Kennedy was RFK: “It isn’t McNamara, the chiefs of staff or anybody like that. Bobby is first in and last out. And Bobby is the boy he listens to.” (p. 412) Which was a keen observation by a man who thoroughly understood the workings of power in Washington.
When Kennedy digested the results of the two reports, he fired Dulles, Bissell and Deputy Director of the CIA, Charles Cabell. In each instance described above—Congo, the Paris coup, Zapata—Dulles had served his president poorly. More significantly, in each instance, Dulles had actually deceived Kennedy about important matters. It’s as if he did not work for John Kennedy. As a matter of fact, as Talbot points out, Dulles never hung a portrait of Kennedy at CIA Headquarters. (p. 403)
As the author further indicates, the fundamental problem was that 1.) Kennedy really thought he was president, and he wanted to run his own foreign policy, and 2.) His view of the world did not at all coincide with the Dulles/Nixon/Eisenhower view. Indeed, they were actually opposed on many issues. Therefore, if Kennedy was going to run his own foreign affairs, he had no choice but to fire Dulles. For what is truly remarkable about the above record of insubordination is this: It all happened in just four months! What was to be expected in four more years?
There was a problem with retiring Dulles, though. Powerful people don’t have to accept retirement. Dulles now set up his own mini government, one that was outside normal channels, and unbeknownst to Kennedy.
V
We now encounter the penultimate part of The Devils’ Chessboard. The part that has caused the most controversy. The part that has gotten Talbot boycotted by the major media—and Hollywood. For as the author told me, George Clooney requested the first press copy of the book. But as of today, Talbot has not heard from Clooney about the volume. As the author said to this reviewer, “It’s part 3 Jim.” Which is where Talbot outlines his case for Dulles being the CEO of the plot to kill President Kennedy.
I have seen some critical comments about this aspect of the book. Most of them, for example in The Daily Beast, begin by saying that this part is not as strong as the rest of the work. The problem with these critics is this: None of them deal with Talbot’s evidence in any kind of comprehensive way. Which, of course, makes what they write into a self-fulfilling prophecy. It also indicates that they are dealing the readers a stacked deck. Let us deal the readers a full deck. That is the only way to be honest with them, and to treat the author fairly.
After his termination, Dulles was, quite naturally, distressed for awhile. But this did not last very long. Through his extensive press contacts he began to attack Arthur Schlesinger, who was always opposed to Zapata, and who Kennedy had tasked with outlining a giant reorganization of the CIA. (p. 431) At this time, Dulles began having private meetings at his home with high-level CIA officers. James Angleton, Richard Helms, Des Fitzgerald, Howard Hunt, and Thomas Karamessines—Helms’ top aide—began to drive up to his Georgetown home and meet with the lion in exile. (p. 449) In addition, Dulles also met with Arleigh Burke, who Kennedy had pushed out of service after his performance during the Bay of Pigs. (ibid, p. 450) We know all of this through the man’s own desk calendars and notebooks.
In 1963, after Kennedy’s peaceful settlement of the Missile Crisis, Dulles now said he could never work for Kennedy again. Further, he publicly announced that Kennedy would never oust Castro because, he said, Kennedy was too concerned with America being loved in the world, rather than respected. He concluded by saying there could be no compromise with communism, it was the equivalent of appeasement. (p. 456)
Although his travel records are redacted, it’s pretty obvious that Dulles did a lot of hopping around the country in his “retirement”.
Consider the following: in the summer of 1963, a young English professor named Peter Scott had begun a second career as an academic at UC Berkley. Scott’s first career had been as a Canadian diplomat who worked in Poland. Because of that link, he had been invited to a gathering of Polish emigres at the Palo Alto home of W. Glenn Campbell. Campbell had been placed in charge of the Hoover Institute on the campus of Stanford University. Campbell was a very conservative Harvard trained economist—a Milton Friedman clone—which is why Herbert Hoover had chosen him to shake up the institute that bore his name. To say he succeeded does not begin to do him justice. A longtime personal friend of Ronald Reagan, he grew the endowment from about 2 million, to well over 135 million when he retired. He did this by appointing conservative stalwarts and friends of Reagan to the staff. Campbell was also known as a very combative personality, one who did not shy away from confrontation. Therefore, at the gathering at his home that night Scott was surprised at how virulent the anti-Kennedy talk got. Scott was actually shocked by the tenor of the talk, which seemed to drag on incessantly. Finally, a Russian Orthodox priest stood up and commanded everyone’s attention. Very quietly, and confidently, he said they had nothing to worry about: “The Old Man will take care of it.” (p. 458)
At first, Scott thought that the priest was referring to Joe Kennedy, JFK’s father. But he later learned that Joseph Kennedy had been felled by a stroke in late 1961. He was bedridden, or in a wheel chair much of the time. He even had great difficulty speaking. Years later, Scott was told by another researcher that, in intelligence circles, Allen Dulles was often referred to as The Old Man. The dropping of Dulles’ name was enough to calm the heated discussion.
As noted, Talbot places this meeting in the summer of 1963. A couple of months prior to this, Dulles had taken another meeting. This one was in Washington. And it might explain why the priest said what he did about the Old Man taking care of the problem. That April 1963 meeting was with a Cuban exile named Paulino Sierra Martinez. Of late, Sierra Martinez is becoming a figure of more intense study by people like Larry Hancock, for the simple reason that he seemed to come out of nowhere to become an influential player in the Cuban exile community in 1963. Sierra Martinez had worked under Batista as a foreign diplomat, though some figured he was really a hit man. (Talbot, p. 459)
When he came to the USA he first lived in Miami, but he then moved to Chicago. He became a legal consul for Union Tank Car Company, founded by the Rockefellers. He then became a major figure among the exiles. A month after his meeting with Dulles (the third man at the meeting was General Lucius Clay), Sierra Martinez convened a conference at the Royalton Hotel in Miami. This was a crucial moment since, after the Missile Crisis, Kennedy made it clear that he was not going to have the CIA back the exiles anywhere near the extent they had done previously. With Kennedy’s stricture in place, Sierra arrived in Miami like a gift from the gods. He said he now represented a consortium of large corporations who wanted to recover their lost investments in Cuba. (ibid) He told the audience that his backers were willing to put up 30 million if they could reorganize and launch a new invasion of the island. Although this invasion would not have approval from the top, it would be backed by officers in the military. They would provide weapons and training facilities.
After this conference, Sierra then traveled around the country spreading around money in hopes of forming a working coalition, which he called the Junta of the Government of Cuba in Exile. (ibid, p. 460) The source of his money, which was passed through Union Tank Car, was ill defined. Some reports suggested that some of the cash came though organized crime sources. In an interview with this reviewer, Larry Hancock said that the Mob money appeared to originate with Meyer Lansky. Lansky made tons of money for the Chicago Outfit through his interest in The Flamingo in Las Vegas. As Talbot points out, this is interesting because one of the plots against Kennedy in the fall of 1963 originated in Chicago. But further, after the failure of the Chicago plot, Sierra was negotiating an arms deal for one Homer Echevarria. This was in the days leading up to the successful Dallas murder. The day before JFK was killed, Echevarria supposedly said to an informant that his group—a part of Sierra’s umbrella junta—now had the money to mount a major Cuban operation since they had some Jewish money. (Lansky was Jewish.) And they would do so as soon as they took care of Kennedy. (Reuters dispatch of 12/20/95) Which sounds a bit like the troubling words used by the Polish priest with Scott.
How does a former judo instructor from Miami rise to the near top of the exile community? And with reputed backing from large corporations and the Chicago mob, in just a matter of months? Most objective people would think that the lunch with Dulles had something to do with it. And let us not forget, as Talbot noted, years earlier, Dulles had tried to get Lansky to do away with Castro.
In a fascinating dual discovery, Talbot sheds light on an ignored aspect of Kennedy’s foreign policy, and the role of a top CIA officer in obstructing it. As many know, Richard Helms got William Harvey out of the country after the Missile Crisis. He got him transferred to Rome. Bobby Kennedy was furious with the man since he had disobeyed orders by trying to launch offensive operations into Cuba during the crisis. In the summer of 1963, President Kennedy visited Italy in what was to be the final European tour of his life. Schlesinger had been badgering JFK to formally back something called “l’apertura a sinistra”—the opening to the left. This would allow the Socialist Party to split from the Communists and allow a center-left coalition with the ruling Christian Democrats. (Talbot, p. 464) As far back as Eisenhower, both James Angleton and Italian ambassador Clare Booth Luce opposed this strophe. After all, Dulles and Angleton worked on a covert operation—right out of his offices at Sullivan and Cromwell— to rig the 1948 Italian elections so the communists would not win.
But Kennedy ignored these protests. He even arranged for the United Auto Workers to back the socialists. (Talbot, p. 466) What must have made it worse for the CIA is that the Socialist leader in 1963 was the same man Dulles and Angleton defeated in 1948. They were not going to take this lying down. Their man on the scene, Bill Harvey, began working with Italy’s security forces to torpedo the diplomatic move by bombing the Christian Democratic Party offices and newspapers. (p. 475) Harvey even wanted to recruit mobsters to assassinate Communists. Harvey’s second in command, Mark Wyatt, objected to this. When he did, Harvey pulled a gun on him. (ibid)
In 1998, after an interview with a French journalist in Lake Tahoe, Wyatt off-handedly said, “I always wondered what Bill Harvey was doing in Dallas in November of 1963.” (p. 477) As Talbot later discovered, Wyatt bumped into Harvey on a plane to Dallas at that time. When Talbot talked to Dan Hardway of the House Select Committee on Assassinations, he told him that he tried to get Harvey’s travel vouchers and his security file, but the CIA always blocked this. If this is valid, I don’t have to tell the reader how important it is. Because as Dulles himself admitted, he was in Dallas about three weeks before the assassination, ostensibly on a book tour. (James DiEugenio, Reclaiming Parkland, p. 273) In a tearful admission to his brother, David Phillips acknowledged that he was in Dallas on the day of the assassination. (DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed, p. 364) And as writers like Lisa Pease have demonstrated, James Angleton once wrote that the CIA had to construct an alibi for Howard Hunt being in Dallas on the day of the assassination. (ibid, p. 363) Can this sudden attraction of CIA officers for the dusty cow town just be a coincidence? Even when they are flying in from Italy? Or maybe all four men were Cowboys fans? (But the Cowboys were pretty bad that year: 4-10)
In September and October of 1963, Dulles met with Angleton and Angleton’s first assistant Ray Rocca. Both men would later figure as strong influences on the Warren Commission cover up. He also met with Des Fitzgerald, who was in Charge of Cuba operations at the time; and with Dick Helms top assistant, Thomas Karamessines. (Talbot, p. 545) Helms would helm the CIA relationship with the Warren Commission.
The week before Kennedy’s murder, Dulles had been in Boston and New York on his book tour for The Craft of Intelligence. (On which Hunt had been a major ghostwriter.) On the day JFK was killed, Dulles landed in Washington in the morning, made a speech at the Brookings Institute, and after getting the word of JFK’s murder, he went to Camp Peary. (ibid, p. 546) This was a CIA location sometimes called The Farm. As Talbot writes, this was an alternative Agency headquarters, in which Dulles had built an office from where he could direct covert operations. He was there from Friday in the early evening until Sunday. What could he have been doing there? Of course, one thing he could have been doing was coordinating with Phillips, Hunt, Harvey and Angleton. And when Oswald survived, perhaps Lansky. After all, high stakes gambler Lewis McWillie—a close friend of Jack Ruby— had worked for Lansky in Cuba. (Michael Benson, Who’s Who in the JFK Assassination p. 272)
What makes this a bit more credible is another hidden point Talbot brings up. As we know through the sterling work of Donald Gibson, the idea of setting up a blue ribbon commission to inquire into the death of President Kennedy was not LBJ’s idea. It was forced upon him by Eugene Rostow and Joseph Alsop. Well, once that was done, Dulles began a lobbying campaign to get named to the Commission. (pp. 573-74) Among the sources for this was Agency military attaché William Corson, who knew Dulles, and also Dean Rusk. To my knowledge, no one else did this. Quite to the contrary, people like Earl Warren and Senator Richard Russell had to be coerced into joining.
Why is that significant? Because as author Walt Brown has demonstrated, Dulles quickly became the most active member of the Commission. As Warren later said, “I don’t think Allen Dulles ever missed a meeting.” (p. 575) And as Talbot shows, Dulles worked with Angleton, and others, to make sure that any tie by the CIA to Oswald was kept secret. (p. 578) Moreover, Dulles himself leaked stories that Oswald may have been a KGB agent. (p. 583) Dulles insisted that most of the report be consumed by a biography of Oswald, rather than the facts of the case. With his longtime friend John McCloy, and up and coming insider Jerry Ford, this trio controlled the Warren Commission pretty much completely.
We should now briefly add three more points to adequately summarize Talbot’s case. In December of 1963, Harry Truman wrote a newspaper editorial questioning how the CIA’s mission had evolved from what he had envisioned it. Dulles flew down to Missouri to meet with Truman and tried to get him to retract the statement. When this did not work, Dulles wrote a deceitful memo, which others could use to discredit Truman’s editorial. (pp. 565-72) In 1965, at UCLA, David Lifton attended a talk with Dulles. Bruin student Lifton stood up and began to question the Commission’s statement about there not being any evidence of a conspiracy in the JFK case. (p. 591) To say that Dulles was vehement in his denial does not even begin to describe his tenor. Suffice it to say, this reviewer never saw any of the six other members of the Commission react like this. Finally, when the Jim Garrison investigation was heating up, Dulles did what he could to monitor the proceedings. (p. 597) Again, I know of no other Warren Commissioner who did such a thing.
The above approximates Talbot’s case. Note that it follows through from the months in advance of the murder, to the day of the murder, to the aftermath of the murder. Do not trust anyone who describes it as “weak” unless they describe it in toto.
Because no one has.
VI
In a book of this size, scope, and depth, there were bound to be flaws, especially since the book was essentially a pioneering effort. Chief among these was the section on the Rolling Stone article devoted to one Saint John Hunt. (p. 496)
Saint John is the son of Howard Hunt. In 2007, he cooperated on a story with Rolling Stone magazine. Talbot essentially relates that story, along with references to his book Bond of Secrecy and Howard Hunt’s posthumously published book An American Spy. The worst thing about this section is that Talbot uses it to underline the battle between the MSM and alternative media for the truth about the JFK case. I agree on the general point that the MSM has utterly failed the nation on the Kennedy assassination—with horrific results. But this Rolling Stone article was a poor choice to point out that failure.
In 2007 when I first read the article, I noted that Saint John said that on the night of the Watergate burglary, his father woke him up and said he needed some help. They wiped the fingerprints off of some electronics equipment. They then stuffed the equipment into two suitcases, drove to the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, and dropped them into the water.
I had read several books on the Watergate caper by 2007. In fact, Probe devoted a special issue to the subject when Oliver Stone’s Nixon was released. At that time, the best book on Watergate was Jim Hougan’s Secret Agenda. When I looked this incident up in that masterful book, I could not find it. According to Secret Agenda, Alfred Baldwin, James McCord’s assistant, told Hunt that he was returning the electronics equipment to McCord’s home in a van. (Hougan, pp. 210-11) As per Hunt, Hougan writes that he returned to the White House first, and then the Mullen Company (where he had worked prior to being employed by the White House). He was preoccupied with arranging a legal defense. (ibid, pp. 216-17) This discrepancy was enough to raise my antennae about this Rolling Stone article.
Then there was the five million dollar sum. The article said that Kevin Costner offered Howard Hunt five million dollars to tell the secret history of the JFK assassination—and what he knew about it. Since I had studied films a very long time, I understood that no producer would offer his main source that kind of money for a historical documentary, especially as an offer before production began, or any deals were in place. Because the vast majority of documentaries, even controversial political ones, simply don’t merit that kind of investment.
It’s surprising to me that Talbot did not talk to Costner. Or perhaps, Costner’s associate in this enterprise, Canadian writer and TV journalist David Giammarco, since it was the latter who initiated the whole discussion of the subject with Hunt. Giammarco did a talk on this very subject at a JFK Lancer Conference back when the article surfaced. There, he revealed that he had worked on trying to get Howard Hunt to talk for over ten years. Saint John and his brother David only came in toward the very end. I also talked to Giammarco myself. He told me that the sum of five million dollars was never, ever mentioned. He said that Costner offered Hunt 250,000 dollars up front and a share of the profits. Which is the only sensible way such a deal could be bartered. Although there is much more to the rather sordid tale, we can end it now. This is enough to convey the fact that Talbot made a needless mistake here.
There are other, more minor, errors. Talbot writes that Oswald was given a Rosenberg flyer as a youth. (p. 511) As I wrote in Destiny Betrayed, this is highly unlikely. Oswald said this while in Russia, at the wired-for-sound Metropole Hotel. He specifically said he was fifteen at the time this happened. But when he was fifteen he was in New Orleans. Who would deliver Rosenberg literature in that southern town? Further, the couple had been executed the previous year. (DiEugenio, p. 145) On page 562, Talbot writes that “The so-called magic bullet that delivered the fatal blow to Kennedy’s skull before proceeding on its improbable course … .” This is wrong. The Magic Bullet did not hit Kennedy’s skull. It entered his back, and then proceeded on its wild ride forward through both Kennedy and John Connally.
On page 493, the author mentions a photo of LBJ on a horse with Dulles standing beside him. Talbot says the photo was taken in the summer of 1963 when Dulles visited with LBJ at his ranch. The visit may have happened. But the best research on the photo—by David Lifton and Larry Hancock—says the picture was not taken at that time, but in 1961.
When mentioning Oswald’s move to New Orleans in the spring of 1963, the author writes that he moved there with Marina and “the girls”. (p. 540) At this time, Oswald had one daughter. It was not until October of 1963 that Marina had a second daughter. Talbot writes that the Warren Commission questioned George DeMohrenschildt longer than any witness. According to Walt Brown, who did a very detailed study of the Commission, it was really Ruth Paine who was questioned the longest. And although Talbot deals with the Paines, I think he is a bit soft on them.
And finally, Talbot brings up the, by now, dated episode of H. R. Haldeman meeting Richard Helms during Watergate. President Nixon asked him to question Helms about the Bay of Pigs. The usually cool and unflappable Helms lost his composure and got very belligerent. (Talbot, p. 494) Haldeman later wrote in his book The Ends of Power, that he came to think that the “Bay of Pigs” matter was really Nixon’s backhanded code for the JFK assassination. Although Talbot allows for another interpretation, he would have been better off just ignoring the mildewed incident. It happened, but the meanderings about what Helms meant by his explosion is just that, meandering.
And that is really not good enough for The Devil’s Chessboard. The book is a major achievement in more than one way. It should now become the standard biography of Allen Dulles. In its stark excavation of the evil he represented, the book stands beside, and actually surpasses, Kai Bird’s biography of John McCloy. To think that these two men served on the investigatory panel to find out who killed President Kennedy—that fact is just not palatable today. This book proves that the Commission was doomed from the start.
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Rory Kennedy, Last Days in Vietnam
No one who saw the films and photos of America’s 1975 retreat from Indochina can forget them. America was leaving the country. But they had made little or no accommodation for the people of South Vietnam, many of whom did not want to stay behind. In fact, the whole thing was so haphazard that it did not look like we had planned very carefully for the Americans to get out either. (Which, as we shall see, was the case.)
As a result of all this capriciousness, the media captured the agonizing images of the Vietnamese “boat people” floating on rafts in the Pacific; of helicopters landing atop the American Embassy with refugees packed in like sardines; and above all: a helicopter on top of the CIA building in dramatic silhouette, with an endless line of civilians trying to get on board – until finally, the copter could not take any more people. And the refuges were left behind with arms outstretched trying to hang on. That image was so haunting that it has been used several times since in films about the subject, e.g. The Deer Hunter.
For many people, especially those critical of the war, those searing – and in some ways, humiliating – images seemed to epitomize America’s long involvement in Vietnam. We were now finally leaving a country in the same way we had entered it and occupied it: in the same half-assed, scattershot manner. It appeared that again, no one in charge understood the plan – or even if there was one.
But as bad as that disorganized exit was for the Americans, it was even worse for the people in South Vietnam who actually believed in America’s commitment to the country. Many of them had heard about North Vietnamese atrocities committed during the war. Many had actually worked out of the embassy or the CIA building as agents and/or informants. Yet now, with a collapse imminent, these people were mixed together with the tens of thousands who just wanted out before the fall. As CIA counter-intelligence analyst Frank Snepp later wrote, those people received no special consideration for their past work.
Snepp was so angry at what had happened that he quit the Agency in 1976. He then decided to write a book about America’s disastrous exit. That book was called Decent Interval. From its title on down, the book was an eye-opener as to what had really happened from 1973-75, and what caused the ultimate American embarrassment, one that was, in large part, broadcast on television to millions of people at home.
The power of Snepp’s book was in his insider knowledge of both the inner workings of the CIA station in Saigon, and the American embassy. This allowed Snepp to name names: CIA station chief Tom Polgar, CIA Director Bill Colby, American ambassador Graham Martin, and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger. And he laid bare their incredible lack of judgment in allowing what he considered a national disgrace to happen.
But to Snepp, the ultimate betrayal went even further. First of all, neither the CIA nor the embassy had assembled lists of South Vietnamese who had helped America during the war. This would have been necessary in order to give them priority during the evacuation.
What made that even worse was that the exit was done so willy-nilly that neither the embassy nor the CIA had completely shredded their intelligence files before the last helicopter left. Therefore, once the North Vietnamese army entered Saigon, those files could be retrieved, and with Russian or Chinese help, translated. From these translated files, whole networks of CIA informants and collaborators could be rebuilt, and a series of arrests made. Which is what happened.
On the other hand, President Nguyen Van Thieu, who, as we shall see, bears much of the blame for the sudden rout, was treated quite differently. When he was ready to leave, a car arrived at his door. As it did so, a group of assistants appeared out of the nearby woods. They carried large luggage bags with them. When the escort offered his help, they refused. Once the car started on its way to the airport, one could hear the sounds of metal clanging against metal. Thieu was leaving with the last of South Vietnam’s gold bullion. He had gotten the bulk out earlier, and this was just small change. America’s anointed leader was allowed to loot its client state, while those further down the food chain were left for the re-education camps. This is how America said goodbye to South Vietnam: a country it had just about created in 1954.
These events occurred mostly in March and April of 1975. It was part of the controversial, and now thoroughly exposed, “decent interval” strategy. This was the exit plan formulated by the foreign policy leaders of our nation in 1973. That is, President Richard Nixon and his National Security Advisor Henry Kissinger. Nixon and Kissinger had been looking for a way to get out of Vietnam by either intimidating the North, or finding what they called “Peace with Honor”. When they discovered neither was possible, they decided on the 1973 Peace Accords, even though they themselves knew the accords would lead to a South Vietnamese defeat in anywhere from two to three years. But they felt that if the defeat occurred with Americans out of the war, and 24-36 months after the 1972 election, they would not be politically impacted by it. Thus originated the decent interval strategy, i.e., announce “Peace with Honor”, knowing that it was a mirage and Saigon had no way of winning once America was out. The evidence for this adduced by scholars like Ken Hughes and Jeff Kimball is overwhelming today. After promising Thieu we would not forsake him, Nixon and President Ford did just that. (See “Exposing Nixon’s Vietnam Lies”)
Very few people seemed to realize what exactly Nixon and Kissinger had planned. That is, the 1973 Peace Accords that they so triumphantly announced prior to the 1972 presidential election was simply camouflage to disguise the inevitable American and South Vietnamese defeat. There was no way that Thieu’s army, the ARVN, could stave off defeat from the combined forces of the Viet Cong and the regular army of North Vietnam. But again, it’s hard to imagine that Nixon and Kissinger could have foreseen the disorganized rout that America’s last days in Vietnam became in 1975.
Frank Snepp, who was stationed in Vietnam for the entire downfall, was one of the few who did realize what Nixon and Kissinger had done. Hence the title of his 1977 book. Since he knew the people involved and watched it all happen – he drove the car that got Thieu out of Saigon – he was able to name names and relate the actual events that caused the embarrassing mess it all ended up as. In other words, the book provided the back story to the pictures.
CIA Director Stansfield Turner decided not to try and stop the book prior to its publication. He recalled what happened in the Pentagon Papers case. So the CIA sued Snepp afterwards on the basis that he had violated his non-disclosure agreement. The CIA won the case on the (humorous) grounds that the author had caused irreparable harm to national security. As a result, Snepp had to forfeit all royalties to the Agency, and clear any future books in advance with them.
But the problem did not go away. Snepp’s book sold well. Plus, it was packed with information that showed just how badly the upper levels of government had performed during a crisis moment, one which it should have been well prepared to surmount. Other authors have since built on the exposure of this decent interval strategy. Documentary director Rory Kennedy decided she wanted to make a film about the decent interval concept after she saw how George W. Bush had ended American involvement in Iraq: that is, without a real exit strategy.
Rory Kennedy made Snepp one of the main talking heads in her documentary film Last Days in Vietnam. This fascinating film has now come to Netflix, and is available on Amazon. When the film was originally released theatrically, it was attacked from both the right and left. The LA Times wanted to know if Kennedy – a child of Bobby Kennedy – thought her uncle would have withdrawn from Vietnam had he lived. The review in The Nation, by Nick Turse, wasn’t really a review. It was essentially a polemic against Kennedy for making a film that tried to find any heroism in the American effort in Vietnam. According to Turse, the war was too awful for that. Therefore the film was not worth discussing or analyzing.
The problem with both of these approaches is that they violate the central function of criticism, which is to describe and illuminate the work in front of the reviewer. Rory Kennedy was not making a film about the Kennedy years in Vietnam. Neither was she making an overall examination of why America was there and what went wrong with the war effort. (The latter would take an extended series to even superficially explore.) Her subject is the last two years of American involvement in Vietnam. A time when, in fact, American soldiers were not involved in combat operations. They had left in 1973.
To be sure, there are some problems with the film, and this review will discuss those faults. But they should be analyzed in the context of the documentary in front of us, not some non-existent film that the reviewer wishes had been made.
Last Days in Vietnam begins with a brief flash forward to 1975. As we watch the aimless. confused, overpopulated streets of Saigon, we hear the voice of then Captain Stuart Herrington. He describes his predicament at that time: How to get men who had helped military intelligence out of Saigon before the city collapsed before the North Vietnamese onslaught.
After setting this topic sentence, the film flashes backward. We now see a newsreel of President Nixon announcing the signing of the 1973 Paris Peace Accords ending American combat involvement in Vietnam.
Director Kennedy then introduces four of the main characters who will fill in the story line of her film. In addition to Herrington, we also see embassy guard Juan Valdez, Frank Snepp, and most importantly and intriguingly, Graham Martin, the last American ambassador in South Vietnam. This montage begins to describe the central problem the film will try to comprehend, namely: in addition to perhaps as many as 7,000 Americans still in country, there were well over a 100,000 Vietnamese who did not want to stay behind under a communist regime. Yet there was no formal evacuation plan presented by Martin, or announced by him – ever. This includes the last two days of the collapse.
As she should, Kennedy spends some time on the enigma of Graham Martin (who died in 1990). Martin was a veteran State Department employee. He had served as ambassador to both Thailand and Italy before Nixon appointed him to head the Saigon embassy in 1973. For reasons stated above, Martin clearly carries a large part of the responsibility for this final American debacle in Vietnam. Some of those who knew him try and explain his inexplicable reluctance to prepare, announce and arrange the evacuation in various ways. He is described as a classic Cold Warrior, who also had lost a son in Vietnam. Therefore, he simply could not bring himself to admit that America had lost the war on his watch. Others say he completely overrated the power and dedication of the Army of South Vietnam (ARVN). Others try and explain it by saying he did not want to announce an evacuation because it may have caused a stampede. If the last was his reason, then his silence did little to ameliorate such a stampede. Martin comes across in this film as a man who never should have been in charge of the Saigon embassy. But further, under these circumstances, he should have been removed.
The film then proceeds with Frank Snepp describing how flimsy the 1973 Paris Accords were. By 1974, when Nixon was forced to resign due to the Watergate scandal, Hanoi was encouraged to mount a major offensive, since they felt America was in a weak position to reply to it. As Snepp says, the 1973 accords were riddled with so many loopholes that there were dozens of violations. By late 1974, when the North Vietnamese decided to make their push, they had more than doubled the amount of troops they had in the south: from approximately 155,00 to around 370,000.
Hence the North Vietnamese attack was already fairly successful at the outset. But it became even more successful when, in March of 1975, Thieu decided to abandon the Central Highlands area and ordered a disorganized retreat to defend the southernmost regions.
Thieu made this even worse by changing his mind about the defense of the ancient city of Hue. He first said that he wanted to make a stand there. He then announced that it was not a priority. This caused a decline in morale of the ARVN, and the clogging of roads and highways by civilians caught headlong between the advancing army of North Vietnam and Thieu’s indecisiveness. The film does not mention Thieu’s reversals, but I think they would have helped explain the sudden rout, because all of this led to the disorganized spectacle that ended up taking place in Saigon on April 30, 1975, and which now included soldiers deserting from the ARVN. (Kennedy includes a memorable shot of a soldier extending outward from a raft to get on a boat and falling into the water.)
As the retreat began to assume a momentum of its own, there were inevitable appeals to Washington for aid. These were directly presented by President Ford to Congress. Kennedy cuts here to interviews with GOP Representatives Pete McCloskey and the late Millicent Fenwick, to explain why these requests for aid were not honored. No one could accept spending hundreds of millions of dollars in 1975, when tens of billions had not done the job in the previous twenty years.
I think the film missed another opportunity here. If Ford had presented a plan to just finance the evacuation itself, that would have been one thing. But the proposal for 722 million also included funds for renewed military operations. And that is what sunk it. Secondly, if Ford was really interested in an orderly evacuation, why could he have not scraped together the funds for that – which would have been much less than the amount he was asking – from other emergency accounts?
The film now cuts back to Snepp. The CIA officer says that, from a reliable source, he found out that the target date for the taking of Saigon was early May. The idea was for the North Vietnamese army to celebrate Ho Chi Minh’s birthday in Saigon. In early April, with the ARVN in complete disarray, there were about 500,000 refugees crowding the highways south into Saigon; they were being followed by an army of about 140,000 regulars from North Vietnam. Even at this point, Martin denied to the press that Vietnam was now lost. Snepp tried to deal with Martin, so he could begin to face the facts of what to do about the impending collapse. Martin told Snepp he did not want to hear any more of this negative chatter.
At this point in the film, Kennedy introduces her real topic, and her real theme. The former is the decision of certain people on the ground level to take matters into their own hands. Realizing that the upper echelons had committed a FUBAR of giant proportions, they decided to do whatever they could to help set things right, even though these attempts were in violation of accepted policy. In other words, the work done by men like Herrington to help South Vietnamese escape was done in the dark. The film actually uses the words “black operations” in regards to them. In fact, Martin began firing people when he heard the target was to get their allies in South Vietnam to Clark Air Base in the Philippines.
An example would be Richard Armitage. Most people know Armitage as a State Department employee who – according to him – inadvertently leaked Valerie Plame’s name to reporter Robert Novak. Back then, Armitage was assigned as the Defense Attaché to the Saigon embassy. His last orders were to make sure that none of the many ships the USA had given to South Vietnam would fall into the hands of the enemy. His plan was to have them manned by their usual sailors, take them to a point in the South China Sea, evacuate the personnel, and then destroy them.
But when Armitage went out to sea to count the ships, they had approximately 30,000 people on board. And they weren’t all navy ships. Some of them were fishing vessels. Aboard the USS Kirk, Armitage decided the only thing to do was to disobey orders and lead the flotilla over a thousand miles to Subic Bay in the Philippines.
But to delineate further why this had to be done, it is important to note the appearance of Gerald Berry in the film. In 1975, Captain Berry was a helicopter pilot in the Marines. Whether or not he wanted to hear them, it was the military’s job to outline avenues of evacuation to Martin. Berry and his colleagues put together four different options for the ambassador to choose from. The first was to float the mass of people down the Saigon River to the docks near the Pacific Ocean. The second was to use commercial aircraft at Tan Son Nhut airport to fly out the mass of refugees through the main air base outside of Saigon. The third option was to use the same airport, but in this case, to mobilize a fleet of military aircraft for the evacuation.
The final option, and the one Berry only offered to Graham as a last resort, was a helicopter evacuation. Berry noted two serious shortcomings with this alternative: 1) Helicopters could only handle small amounts of people per flight; 2) Choppers were much slower than fixed wing aircraft, thus requiring many more sorties to ferry everyone out.
Martin’s intransigence forced Berry to utilize the last option. As the film explains, option (1) had to be prepared in advance, since it was a long haul floating tens of thousands of people down the river. Options (2) and (3) were also wiped out by the ambassador’s delays. Because Martin waited so long to begin his impromptu escape, the North Vietnamese were on the outskirts of Saigon. Realizing what the best exit strategy was, they began to bombard Tan Son Nhut airport with artillery and rockets. Therefore, out of necessity, the Marines used the helicopter option. Berry himself flew an amazing 34 sorties in a bit over 18 hours. His last flight got Martin out. He asked for more pilots to prepare a rest rotation. That request was denied.
But there were so many helicopter flights coming in that they would back up into each other. As Snepp notes, the security guards had to cut down a tree in the compound to make way for another helipad. What further made it all so difficult was that the ships used to land on were not aircraft carriers. Some, like the Kirk, were destroyers, whose space for landing was very limited and which could only handle medium sized choppers. This explains one of the most memorable images from the evacuation. Because of the limited space, and the number of flights, at times it became necessary to simply push a helicopter off the deck into the sea so another one could land. As we see in the film, this did not happen just once. It happened three times.
This directly relates to one of the high points of this riveting film. A South Vietnamese pilot was using a Chinook helicopter to get his brother and his family out of Saigon. But the ship he was trying to land on could not accommodate a Chinook, which is a twin engine, long, troop transport type of chopper. So the sailors on board came out on deck and yelled at him, waving him off. Since he was low on fuel and had nowhere to go, he decided to hover over the deck. He then began dropping his family members to the sailors below. This included little children who were actually caught in the air. When the pilot was the only one left, he flew the chopper out about 25 feet away from the ship. He stayed at the controls as he began to strip out of his flight suit. (As one American sailor says on screen, he still doesn’t know how the heck he did that.) Once he was out of his suit he then ditched the chopper into the water, jumped out, and swam to the ship. This gripping sequence is not described. It is shown.
This is a good point to accent just how well made this documentary is. It is very clear that the producers of the picture really went through just about every bit of film they could find on the subject. It is that complete. But beyond that, it is what they have done with this footage that makes the film so remarkable to see. For many decades, and in many schools, documentaries were simply that: a recorded film of an event. One plopped down the camera in front of, say, a parade, and that was it. There were exceptions, of course; e.g., Alain Resnais’ Night and Fog, and Leni Riefenstahl’s Olympiad and Triumph of the Will. But, by and large, most documentaries did not use the techniques available to film to add to or alter what we saw on screen.
With the introduction of modern technology, including CGI, that has changed today. This film uses digital imaging very well to illustrate things like escape routes out of Saigon to the airport, or to the docks. In one particularly telling image, Kennedy irises into the airport digital image – that is, she encloses it with a narrow circle effect – but then explodes the circle into the live action of the North Vietnamese bombing. She also uses the device of cross-cutting between films and photos adroitly. And she also uses the photographic effect of zooming in on a still photograph to accent a person in it. In one case, it is Martin, and the device accents his isolation from circumstances. The editing by Don Kleszy is also very skillful. In his montages of crowd confusion, it is notable how he cuts between one shot of people running in one direction, and the next shot of people running the opposite way, thus capturing the chaos and confusion of those final days.
But amid the good things in this film, I would be remiss if I did not note a serious flaw. Namely, the presence of Henry Kissinger. To put it simply: No film made by any member of the Kennedy family should have Kissinger in it. Especially a film that deals with Vietnam. As time goes on, and more documents are declassified, the better President Kennedy looks, and the worse Nixon, Ford and Kissinger look. We now understand better why Kissinger never advanced in the Kennedy White House, but rose to the top under Nixon and Ford. Today, Kissinger stands exposed as one of the worst foreign policy practitioners in recent memory. From Vietnam, to Cambodia, to the Middle East, to the Pakistan/India dispute, the Kissinger/Nixon policies all proved disastrously wrong. It was only through their manipulation of the press that their failures had been disguised, e.g., as in the Kalb brothers’ fawning 1974 biography. Today, most authorities agree that the Nixon-Kissinger years are more aptly characterized in William Bundy’s 1998 volume A Tangled Web. That coruscating study was so pungent that Kissinger himself replied to a positive review of it in The New York Review of Books (see here).
Near the beginning of the film, Kissinger actually states that, with the 1973 Peace Accords, he and Nixon were attempting to achieve a co-existence between North and South Vietnam, somewhat like that between North and South Korea.
This is completely wrong. And Ken Hughes demonstrates its falsity in his book Fatal Politics. He does it with transcribed tapes from the Nixon library. Hughes shows that Kissinger, in his own words, never believed for a moment that the cease-fire of 1973 would hold, or that Hanoi would have any real problem in conquering the south.
This leads to another false statement that Kissinger makes in the film. He says that the USA had three goals in the final days: to get as many people out as possible, to ensure that South Vietnam was not stabbed in the back, and to preserve the honor of America. This statement is not just flatulent, it is incomprehensible.
As the film shows, if the objective was to get out as many as possible, the official US effort was a complete and utter failure. And Kissinger, as Secretary of State, carries a lot of the blame for that. Tens of thousands were evacuated not because of what he did, but in spite of it. And this film honors those who were actually responsible.
As per stabbing South Vietnam in the back, again, the work of authors like Ken Hughes and Jeffrey Kimball belies that. As does the title of Snepp’s book. Kissinger and Nixon’s cease-fire was a device to delay the fall of South Vietnam until after the 1972 election when, the two felt, most people would have forgotten about the subject. One can also look at Jerrold L. Schecter’s 1986 book, The Palace File, which contains a series of 31 letters from Presidents Nixon and Ford to Thieu. In those letters, among other things, Ford and Nixon promised South Vietnam full diplomatic and military support, before and after the signing of the peace accords. Needless to say, the support never materialized.
The film includes another false statement by Kissinger. Ford’s White House – with Kissinger on stage during the press conference – made a premature announcement that all the Americans who wanted to leave Saigon, were now out. This was not true. The final platoon of security guards had not left the embassy at that time. The film shows the platoon leader recalling his problem during departure: he kept on counting the men who should have been there. He was one short. He would not leave anyone behind. The last man was Valdez, who we saw at the beginning. He was pulled onto the helicopter by those on board, and the film contains a photo of him after he was just inside the open tailgate. After Kissinger’s false statement, this is a nice thematic closing to the film.
Kissinger’s presence here, and his continuing duplicity, mar the sterling work Rory Kennedy has done. She has assembled a finely textured, intricately planned salute to those in the lower ranks. Those who had to live with the horrible mistakes people like Henry Kissinger made.
Except they decided not to live with them. They did something about it. And they succeeded in spite of the huge odds arrayed against them.
Overall, the Vietnam War was, at first , a huge mistake. It then became a terrible epic tragedy. For both the USA and Vietnam. Nixon and Kissinger senselessly expanded that tragedy into Cambodia. The whole time, both men knew that – as they were dropping thousands of tons of bombs over Indochina – America could not win the war.
They then decided on their “decent interval” masquerade: The war would not actually be lost by America, but by a combination of Thieu’s incompetence and a lack of support by Congress. This was nothing but an empty, and terribly destructive, charade. And Kissinger was a major part of it. In fact, as Ken Hughes shows, he essentially pushed Nixon into it.
It would have been nice to see a film about that. Just as it would be nice to see a film about the difference between President Kennedy’s strategy on Vietnam, and those who followed him in the White House. A film on the latter could have shown why Kissinger did not advance under Kennedy, but rose to the top under Nixon and Ford.
After this, maybe Rory Kennedy will make a film with that kind of epic scope. But for now, she has decided to do a well wrought, smaller piece of chamber music. James Joyce once gave his hero , Stephen Dedalus the memorable line, “History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.” This film tells the story of how part of that Vietnam nightmare was constructed. And it chronicles the efforts of those who did what they could to try and correct that nightmare.
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John T. Shaw, JFK in the Senate
As readers of this site know, the last few years have been a very interesting time for the developing scholarship on the foreign policy of President John F. Kennedy. Indeed, the picture that emerges from this new scholarship has done much to alter the portrait of who President Kennedy really was. That adjustment has in turn both highlighted the deficiencies in the prevailing view of Kennedy, and perhaps also illuminated the question of why he was killed.
To trace some of this new and valuable literature: there was the book and the film entitled Virtual JFK. Those two efforts depicted John F. Kennedy leading a withdrawal from Vietnam in 1963. And the book showed that this concept had actually accumulated some momentum in the hardest arena to impact: that of academia. (click here)
Related to this, we also had the work of Gordon Goldstein. Goldstein was a scholar who was working with Kennedy’s National Security Advisor McGeorge Bundy. They were at work on a volume that would be Bundy’s equivalent to Robert McNamara’s In Retrospect. (click here) That is, a book that would show that Bundy had been wrong in his advice to JFK on Vietnam, and Kennedy had been correct in his attempt to withdraw, which culminated in the issuance of NSAM 263 in October of 1963. Unfortunately, Bundy passed away before the work was finished. But Goldstein later published it on his own. Lessons in Disaster was a milestone book in the field, because Bundy, even more than McNamara, made it clear that Kennedy was not going to order combat troops into Vietnam. After reviewing the entire declassified record, Bundy was utterly convinced of that fact. It was such an important book that the presidential staffers who were against the USA entering the Afghanistan theater of war passed it around the White House in 2009 (click here).
These works were all welcome and well done. And they further certified facts and truths that previous scholars had already made obvious to all but the most skeptical – namely, that President Kennedy was not going to enter American combat troops into the morass of a civil war in Vietnam, and that at the time of his death, he was implementing a withdrawal plan. Jim Douglass’ book, JFK and the Unspeakable, did a nice job summarizing the scholarship pertaining to Kennedy’s policies in Cuba, Vietnam and toward Russia, demonstrating, with ample evidence, that Kennedy was working on a rapprochement with Castro, getting American personnel out of Vietnam, and constructing a détente with the USSR.
Douglass’ book touched on the subject of Africa, as did this reviewer in his 2012 edition of Destiny Betrayed. But in March of 2014, Philip Muehlenbeck published Betting on the Africans, an overall review of Kennedy’s policy on that continent. It turns out that Kennedy was essentially overthrowing the previous administration’s policy on Africa. As the head of African affairs in the State Department said, Kennedy’s administration wanted no part of colonialism or imperialism. What it wanted was – as much as possible – for Africans to own and run their own national affairs. This was a revolutionary departure from the policies of President Eisenhower and Secretary of State John Foster Dulles. And it was crystallized by Kennedy’s stance in the struggle of Congo to be free from European imperialism. (click here)
About a year before Muehlenbeck, Robert Rakove published Kennedy, Johnson and the Non-Aligned World. This work was similar in its findings to Muehlenbeck. But its scope was broader, extending from Africa to the Middle East, all the way to India. After some serious archival study, Rakove agreed with Muehlenbeck. Kennedy had consciously reversed the previous administration’s policies toward the Third World. And this reversal did not happen in 1963. It started right out of the gate, in 1961. (click here for summaries of these books)
But further – and just as interesting – both authors found that, unlike what one would expect, the Democratic Vice President under Kennedy did not hew to the paths JFK had forged. In almost every case, Lyndon Johnson slid backwards into the heritage of Dulles and Eisenhower. For this reason, the legacy of Kennedy’s revolution in foreign policy was lost within about 18 months of his assassination.
In other words, today, there is a lot of new information about who President Kennedy really was. And this newly discovered information demonstrates that JFK’s new approach to foreign policy did not really begin to assert itself in 1963. It started right after Kennedy’s inauguration. If that is so, then Kennedy must have been gestating his new ideas many years in advance. A new look at his senatorial career would therefore be in order, because many of the more standard biographies of Kennedy do not prepare us for what he actually did in the White House in 1961. In fact, to a large degree, they ignore it (for example, the works of Robert Dallek, Richard Reeves, and Herbert Parmet).
II
In light of all the above, John T. Shaw’s JFK in the Senate seemed like a good idea for a book. If one thoroughly traced Kennedy’s career in the Senate, one could get a very good idea of who he was and what he was going to do in the White House, since, as many have noted – including Tip O’Neill –, very few men grew the way Jack Kennedy did in his years in the Senate. (Shaw, p. 6) Shaw’s book is not without its virtues. Foremost among them is its originality. For, as the author notes early on, there is no other book about Kennedy that focuses solely on his Senate career. But when all is said and done, what I think Shaw has written is sort of a Cliff Notes version of what a senatorial study of Kennedy should have been at this point in time.
The book begins with a presentation in 1959 in the Senate Reception Room. The presentation was for the results of a poll taken by a special committee headed by Senator John Kennedy. Vice-President Richard Nixon was there, as was Senate Majority Leader Lyndon Johnson. The committee’s job was to find the five most important and accomplished senators in the chamber’s history. Lyndon Johnson had first headed the assignment, but he bowed out due to health reasons. (ibid, p. 3)
The first of the featured speakers was Nixon, the titular head of the Senate. The second speaker was Johnson, the actual leader of the body. The third speaker was Kennedy, the man who had set up the committee and managed it through its long life to its ultimate conclusions. The five senators that Kennedy’s committee decided to honor were Henry Clay of Kentucky, Daniel Webster of Massachusetts, John Calhoun of South Carolina, Robert LaFollette Sr. of Wisconsin, and Robert Taft of Ohio.
As Shaw sees it, this presentation was both a coming of age and a notice of leaving event for Senator Kennedy. (p. 5) It was the former because it was the only committee of any long life – it took three years – which Kennedy ran during his Senate years of 1952-60. And, as Shaw notes in his book, almost anyone would have to admit that Kennedy did a fine job in helming this rather difficult and thankless task. But Shaw also points out that this may be the only committee Kennedy helmed because he did not feel like the Senate was going to be his home base, and this may have been the cause of his “reluctance to immerse himself in the drudgery of legislative affairs.” (p. 6)
Shaw uses this unveiling in the Senate Reception Room as a sort of preview of what will come. He then begins the book proper with Chapter Two. Here he gives us a short synopsis of Kennedy’s life before he entered the Congress as a representative. Young Kennedy subscribed to the New York Times at age 14. And after a long discussion about politics with family friend and political science professor William Carleton, Carleton came away quite impressed. He later said about this conversation, “It was clear to me that John had a far better historical and political mind than his father or elder brother; indeed that John’s capacity for seeing current events in historical perspective, and for projecting historical trends into the future, was unusual.” (pp. 12-13)
Shaw now summarizes the major events in Kennedy’s life before running for Congress. This would include his graduation from Harvard with the manuscript thesis that would end up constituting the 1940 book Why England Slept. Shaw briefly mentions Kennedy’s years of service during World War II, and his adventures in the Pacific on PT boat 109. When Kennedy was released he thought about going into journalism as a career. He worked for both the Chicago Herald American and International News Service. But he ultimately decided not to be a reporter. As Shaw states it, “He found it too reactive; he wanted to make decisions, not write about those made by others.” (p. 14)
And this, of course, becomes the segue into Kennedy’s decision to run for John Michael Curley’s empty Massachusetts congressional seat. He formally announced his candidacy in April of 1946. He was 29 years old. During this campaign, Kennedy vowed to strive for peace, provide housing for veterans, work for national health care, advocate the rights of workers, provide a fair minimum wage and to secure the survival of the United Nations as the best hope for tranquility in the world. (p. 16) Concerning the last, Kennedy regretted that the USA had given in to Soviet demands to provide veto power to members of the UN Security Council. And, as Shaw notes, Kennedy “even envisioned a scenario in which the atomic bomb might be turned over to the United Nations.” This last is rather important since it shows just how early Kennedy was declaring himself to be an internationalist in the field of world affairs. And further, that he was willing to give up certain aspects of state sovereignty to the United Nations.
Kennedy won the Democratic primary by a large margin, outpolling his closest opponent by a margin of 2 to 1. He then won the general election in a huge landslide. When he entered the House of Representatives, Kennedy was a mini-celebrity. He was a well-publicized war hero and a published author (Why England Slept sold 85,000 copies). Or as Shaw puts it, “He was the glamorous young bachelor, the most enticing new figure on Capitol Hill in many years.” (p. 18)
As Shaw writes, the issue that Rep. Kennedy really fought for, and spent a lot of time on, was more and better housing for returning veterans. (Shaw, p. 19) There was a huge shortage of this commodity for returning vets and Kennedy wanted to move fast to correct it. JFK hammered the GOP for stalling eventual approval of a housing bill that he backed. He particularly hit hard at the American Legion which, he claimed, was being used as a stooge for the real estate lobby. He actually said that the leadership of the American Legion had not had a constructive thought since 1918. (p. 21)
Shaw points out a little known fact about Kennedy at this time. There had been a wave of strikes in America from 1945-47. Even President Truman thought the power of unions at this time was too dominant. Kennedy was for some labor reform, but he was against the Taft-Hartley Act. As he commented, “In seeking to destroy what is bad, they are also destroying what is good.” (p. 23) During the raging controversy over the draconian Taft-Hartley Bill – which would seriously weaken unions – Kennedy debated fellow representative Richard Nixon in McKeesport, Pennsylvania over the issue. As Shaw notes, this is unusual today because neither man was from Pennsylvania, let alone McKeesport. As most of us know, Truman vetoed Taft-Hartley, but it was passed over his veto. Kennedy, of course, voted against it. (ibid)
Shaw notes two other issues Kennedy acted on in the domestic arena. Kennedy was quite interested in federal aid to education, but he was against direct public support for parochial schools. He was also a member of the House’s District of Columbia committee, and he supported home rule for DC. (p. 24)
Shaw briefly outlines Kennedy’s foreign policy views as they were discernible at this time. According to the author, Kennedy backed the George Kennan concept of containment of the Soviet Union. This had been fully adopted by Truman and his Secretaries of State George Marshall, and Dean Acheson, although not in the form that Kennan had envisioned it. Kennan always insisted that he never wanted this policy to be accented by a military build up. But, in 1950, it was so accented with NSC-68. Which, as Mike Swanson shows in his fine book The War State, was pushed through by Paul Nitze. According to Shaw, Kennedy also did not like the loss of China to the communists, and he criticized Truman and the State Department for it. At this time, Shaw notes that Kennedy seemed to believe in the Domino Theory.
In this reviewer’s opinion, Shaw should have made more of this than he does. Or, at least, he should have flashed a preview card here as to the change that was coming around the bend. Because, as a senator, and then president, these views about the Domino Theory and containment were going to be altered. In fact, Kennedy would become a real maverick in that regard – especially as opposed to his predecessors, Truman and Eisenhower, and the man who followed him into the White House, Lyndon Johnson.
III
In preparing to run for the Senate, Kennedy tried to visit every major city and town in Massachusetts. He almost never turned down an invitation. And every association or agency was glad to have him because he never charged for an appearance, not even for expenses. (p. 30) On these weekend trips, the millionaire’s son got by with hamburgers and milkshakes, and he once shaved in a bowling alley rest room. Because of his bad back, he was often on crutches and at night he would soak in a warm bath in a hotel room. Finally, in April of 1952, Kennedy announced he would run for the Senate against the formidable Henry Cabot Lodge. In this race, after Joe Kennedy fired Mark Dalton, Bobby Kennedy served for the first time as his brother’s campaign manager. (p. 36)
Lodge wasted a lot of time in this race, because he was dedicated to convincing Eisenhower to run as a Republican for president. He needed to do that for the simple reason that he felt the early favorite, Robert Taft, would lose a national race. After he convinced Eisenhower to run, Lodge was then instrumental in advising his campaign. (p. 40) As many have noted, Lodge underestimated both John Kennedy, and the apparatus that Bobby Kennedy and Larry O’Brien had constructed with the money given to them by Joseph Kennedy. Towards the end, Lodge did something that an incumbent rarely does: he demanded a debate with Kennedy. Kennedy and he debated twice. (Shaw, p. 42) But this did not strongly impact the head start Lodge had given young Kennedy. Kennedy won with about 51.5% of the vote.
When Kennedy entered the Senate, Eisenhower and Secretary of State John Foster Dulles were proffering the New Look for the Pentagon. That is, an arsenal with smaller conventional forces, but a much larger atomic stockpile. The number of atomic weapons under these two men went from less than a hundred to 18,000. (Shaw, p. 50)
In South Vietnam, Eisenhower and Dulles eventually budgeted a billion dollars per year and 1,000 advisors to prop up the remnants of the French colonial empire. (p. 51) Much of this was given to the CIA, run by Foster Dulles’ brother, Allen. The field advisor to the enormous agency mission was Edward Lansdale.
The Democratic leader of the Senate was LBJ. He was first elected whip in 1951, and Democratic leader in 1953. He then became Majority Leader in 1955. Senator Robert Taft helmed the GOP leadership. But on the floor, Robert Kerr and Styles Bridges usually led the Republicans in debate. Southern senators controlled seven of the nine most important committees. The old joke was that the Senate was “the only place in the country where the South did not lose the war.” (p. 59) There was an informal insiders’ club made up of southern Democrats and conservative Republicans from the Midwest. They met frequently and had much control over the agenda.
As Shaw notes, Kennedy never showed any interest in being a part of this club. And, almost from the start, he began to dismiss Eisenhower’s leadership as slow-moving and backward looking. (Shaw, p. 52)
IV
Kennedy in the Senate took on some of the domestic issues that he was interested in in the House: subjects like labor reform, education and housing. He was also interested in the Hoover Commission reforms to make the actual government apparatus run more efficiently. (p. 65) He promoted about a dozen of these reforms. He was interested in lowering the voting age to 18 and repealing the requirement of taking a loyalty oath, something that Truman had installed.
One of the biggest issues Kennedy advocated for on the domestic side was his New England economic plan, which was directly related to the St. Lawrence Seaway proposal by Canada. The former was an attempt to diversify the economy of New England in order to revivify and renew what Kennedy perceived as an economic decline. The aim was to stop the flow of business relocation and to help those hurt by chronic unemployment. (p. 67)
Kennedy’s ideas on this were rather forward leaning. He wanted to create regional industrial and development corporations, practice job retraining, and teach technical assistance programs, among other ideas. But he also wanted to practice something he called fair trade. And he thought the federal government had a role to play in keeping a level playing field among states and regions in the national economy. (p. 68) For instance, Kennedy pointed out the natural advantages southern states had in the textile industry, which was now declining in New England due to those advantages. (p. 69)
Kennedy organized a bloc of 12 senators from New England. He met with them bimonthly to pass legislation on important area industries like textiles, fishing and small business expansion. He also recommended programs to help farmers, veterans and senior citizens. Kennedy drafted over 300 pieces of legislation based on his working relationship with this group. As Shaw notes, dozens of them eventually became laws. (p. 70) As he further relates, this took up an enormous amount of his time. It was not uncommon for Kennedy to be found working as late as 7 or 8 in the evening. (p. 72) This, along with his extensive travel schedule, prevented him from belonging to any of the cliques that formed in the Senate.
The St. Lawrence Seaway project was a large construction project meant to link all of the Great Lakes through a system of canals, locks and channels. The idea was to be able to float a ship all the way from the Atlantic Ocean to the furthest, northwest reaches of Lake Superior. President Eisenhower had endorsed it when it was first introduced. As a congressman, Kennedy had opposed it. (pp. 73-75)
As Kennedy first saw it, by making it possible to navigate the entire Great Lakes region, the project could hurt the port of Boston and other New England harbors. But the problem was that 1.) It would help the economy of the Northeast as a whole, and 2.) Canada was going to build it if the USA went along or not. Therefore, Kennedy changed his mind. But he did some horse-trading in order to get votes for his New England economy program. (p. 78) Thus Kennedy was instrumental in getting programs of unemployment insurance to last 39 weeks. He also proposed a bill to have participants in welfare and pension plans be given annual reports upon request. (p. 80)
Sen. Kennedy also served on the McClellan Committee. This was a Senate investigatory body that explored the issues of management malpractice, labor corruption and organized crime influence in unions. Bobby Kennedy was the lead counsel on this committee, and it captured a lot of sensational headlines – especially when Teamster leaders Dave Beck and Jimmy Hoffa were called to testify. Sen. Kennedy was asked to design legislation based on its recommendations. Kennedy brought in authorities like Archibald Cox and Arthur Goldberg to write these bills. (Shaw, p. 80) But although Kennedy’s bill passed the Senate, it was thwarted in the House. The next year, he tried to pass it again. This time, the House attached so many counter amendments to it that Kennedy had to chair a conference committee. The ultimate bill that emerged was so different than the one Kennedy proposed that he eventually took his name off the bill. (p. 85)
I was rather disappointed with Shaw’s treatment of Kennedy and civil rights in this book. He calls Kennedy’s views on the issue tactical, and even timid, although unlike Fox News, he does say that Kennedy did support the 1957 Civil Rights Act.
As I have noted before – in my review of The Kennedy Half Century by Larry Sabato – it’s true that Kennedy did break with some of his fellow liberal senators who did not want the bill to go to James Eastland’s Judiciary Committee. They did this for the simple reason that Eastland was a strong segregationist. JFK opposed this, not because he was against the bill – he was for it – but because he thought this procedural tactic could then be used against people like himself to block future progressive legislation. Kennedy always felt that if Eastland bottled up the bill, the Democrats could just use a discharge petition to get it onto the floor for a vote. In fact, in a letter he wrote at the time, he actually said he would lead the discharge petition himself. But further, in that letter – addressed to one Alfred Jarrette – he also said he was one of a minority who voted for an extraordinary Title III clause. This allowed the Attorney General to step in in cases of discrimination, not just in voting rights, but also in cases of school segregation. It also allowed the use of civil actions against towns and cities if a pattern of discrimination could be established.
So, unlike Shaw’s characterization, as Kennedy wrote to Jarrette, he wanted a good, strong civil rights bill. Shaw compounds this misjudgment when he also writes that Kennedy was timid and tactical because he wanted to retain support in the South. One can argue the opposite was the case. As Harry Golden pointed out in his book Mr. Kennedy and the Negroes, Kennedy was so outspoken about Title III that it actually started to erode his support in some states in the formerly Solid South. (See Golden, p. 95) And, of course, it was Title III which the president and his brother Bobby used to begin to file lawsuits in the South to bring down the walls of segregation. (See Golden, pp. 100-105)
V
Shaw devotes a chapter in his book to Kennedy’s evolving foreign policy views while in the Senate. He calls it “The High Realm of Foreign Affairs”. In some ways Shaw is fair and insightful on this important issue. For example, he mentions Kennedy’s trips to Western Europe and to Asia and the Middle East in 1951. He also notes that, while there, Kennedy met with some men who did not agree with the Dulles/Eisenhower position on Vietnam.
For instance, the author mentions Kennedy’s meetings with men like Seymour Topping of the Associated Press and Edmund Gullion of the State Department. He also adds that, armed with this new information, Kennedy had difficult, confrontational meetings with American diplomat Donald Heath and the French military commander, Jean de Latre. He also mentions a radio address Kennedy made about our precarious position there, and how the USA was becoming a colonialist in the minds of the populace abroad. (Shaw, p. 92)
Shaw also details the debate in 1954 over the expected collapse of the French position at Dien Bien Phu. Shaw quotes some of Kennedy’s speeches at this time, and how they attracted a lot of attention both in the press and by his colleagues. Kennedy assailed the administration for offering years of rosy predictions about the French position there, while extending aid and succor to France. He predicted that all this was now about to come naught. Which was an accurate prophecy.
But Shaw scores Kennedy for not fully thinking through the French dilemma. He says that France could not stay engaged in a war where its ultimate aim was withdrawal. (p. 97) Therefore, the alternatives were either defeat or surrender. But this disallows what, for example, France did in Africa when it withdrew its formal colonial apparatus. There, France set up a commonwealth, or federation, in which it granted limited independence at first with trade privileges, and then ultimate freedom. That would have been a much less expensive and bloody alternative than France fighting an eight-year war in Indochina.
Shaw follows what happened in South Vietnam after the collapse of Dien Bien Phu – that is, the creation of the American role there at the Geneva Conference of 1954. The author then states that Kennedy at first backed the government of Ngo Dinh Diem. Shaw then asks: How did Kennedy lose his skepticism when it came to how the USA would fare in Indochina after the French defeat? (p. 100)
As John Newman notes in is masterly book JFK and Vietnam, Kennedy was acutely aware of the political dimensions of that struggle. Therefore, he understood that, even if Diem was not a good choice to lead the fight against Ho Chi Minh – and he was not – we were stuck with him for the interim. Therefore, the fair and wise thing to do was to give him an opportunity to succeed at first. To call for his abandonment, without giving him any time to fortify his position – this would be a dangerous political stance to take in 1957. Further complicating things, by this time, Kennedy had already thrown his hat in the ring for Vice-President at the 1956 convention. And he almost won. Hence he would not want to have to defend prematurely abandoning Diem in the 1960 primaries. This is an unfortunate fact of our political system, one which Kennedy did not like, but was acutely aware of.
From here, Shaw goes on to note Kennedy’s further stance against Foster Dulles on the subject of Algeria in his remarkable speech of July, 1957. (p. 101) He does an adequate job on this immense issue. But he also stresses Kennedy’s policy ideas on the Eastern Bloc nations. Which was a parallel to his ideas about French colonialism. In other words, he wanted to offer aid to Poland, behind the Iron Curtain. (pp. 108-09) He even wrote a letter to Foster Dulles extending that idea to him. He also brought a motion to the floor of the Senate on this issue. It failed to pass by one vote. But in 1959, Kennedy managed to push it through. (p. 110) This allowed the extension of loans and grants “to Poland or other communist satellites seeking to resist Soviet and Chinese domination.” Shaw praises him for this. He says that it showed “Kennedy’s ability to find tangible ways to break free from rigid Cold War thinking.” (p. 110)
Shaw concludes this chapter by writing, “John Kennedy used the Senate as a platform to challenge the Eisenhower administration’s foreign and national security policy and to outline his own vision of America’s role in the world.” He continues with, “As his stature grew, he became one of the Democratic Party’s most visible spokesman on national security issues.” (p. 110)
In sum, this is not a bad book. And I think some of its faults can be explained by Shaw’s association with the Wall Street Journal and the Hoover Institute.
But in my opinion it could have been much better. For instance, the author did very few original interviews for the book. As a matter of fact, I counted less than ten of them. Yet, in my opinion, that process would be necessary in order to understand what was happening to Kennedy during these formative years. Also, in what amounts to a shocker, Shaw does not list Richard Mahoney’s landmark book, JFK: Ordeal in Africa in his bibliography, when, in my view, there is no better book on Kennedy’s evolving foreign policy ideas from 1950-59.
In fact, I would have to say that the vast majority of the book’s references are to secondary sources. And some of those secondary sources are ones I would not consult if I had been writing such a book. For example, the works of Robert Caro are not even really about Kennedy. Robert Dallek’s books on Kennedy do not even mention either his transformation in the Senate, or Edmund Gullion. Christopher Mathews’ books on JFK are pretty much useless, as is Richard Reeves’ book on the JFK presidency. These very questionable secondary sources are all in Shaw’s bibliography. Yet he couldn’t find time for Mahoney’s book? I let the readers make up their own mind on that point.
As I said, this book amounts to a decent enough starting point for the next author to build on.
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Hammarskjold Crash May Have Been An Attack
by Michelle Nichols
At: Huffington Post