For well over a year after I purchased James W. Douglass’ book, “JFK and the Unspeakable: Why He Died and Why It Matters,” I could not bring myself to read it. I feared having my worst suspicions about the circumstances surrounding his death confirmed.

Once I finally began reading, however, I quickly became caught up in a masterfully told, and scrupulously researched, tale of alternating darkness and light. Douglass believes that Kennedy’s murder cannot be understood apart from the political and cultural context of the time.

It is Douglass’ argument — supported by mountains of footnoted data — that powerful figures in the intelligence and military establishments came to believe JFK’s gradual turning away from the rigid tenets and course of Cold War thinking, including America’s reliance upon nuclear weapons — constituted a very real threat to the survival of the United States. How this state of affairs came to be is what makes this book so very interesting and, despite Kennedy’s murder, oddly hopeful.

While America’s popular culture retrospectively paints the 1950s and 1960s as a period of prosperity, tranquility, and simplicity, it was actually a time of considerable international and domestic tensions. JFK’s election in 1960 occurred precisely when several of these smoldering wicks were about to burst into flame.

Dramatically stark division

What makes the story of Kennedy’s journey away from the violence of war, and the ideologically rigid view that fueled it, so remarkable is that he was heavily influenced by the virulent anti-Communism permeating American society. It is painful to remember how dramatically stark was the division between “us” — the United States and West in general — and “them” — Russia, Eastern Europe, and China. 

Like all of us, JFK was a complex person. What Douglass’ book reveals, however, is the amazingly strong and admirable strength of moral character that shaped and governed his actions. He also had the remarkable capacity to learn from experience and, accordingly, to grow in understanding and to alter his behavior accordingly.

That he had the wisdom and courage not to succumb to the Cold War, plus his stubborn resistance to be taken in by those eager to use massive force against “our enemies,” says a great deal about his true moral center.

Kennedy’s mistrust of the military-intelligence community began early with the disastrous Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba in April 1961. The operation, planned in the closing months of Eisenhower’s second term by the Central Intelligence Agency, was based upon a key falsehood: that the invasion forces (of Cuban exiles living in the US) would be sufficient to overcome Cuban resistance.

Both the CIA and their allies in the military establishment knew this was untrue; the invasion was actually intended to trigger US naval and/or air involvement when it became clear that the invading forces were floundering.

Instead, to their chagrin, Kennedy refused to commit US assets. The subsequent failure of that invasion created long-lasting resentment against the Kennedy clan among the Cuban exiles and planted poisonous seeds of doubt in the minds of the intelligence-military community about Kennedy’s ultimate loyalties. Whose side was he really on?

The real turning point came however, during the Cuban Missile Crisis of October 1962. Only in recent years have we learned how very close we came to all-out nuclear war that autumn. Both JFK and his Soviet counterpart, Nikita Khrushchev, balked at the horrors that any misstep might unleash; both sent conciliatory messages and, through frantic negotiations, took mutual steps to reduce tensions.

It was following these tense days that discussions between the two men began, many of them channeled through, and mediated by, Pope John XXIII. From that time through the end of his life (which was only 13 months away), JFK took deliberate steps to diminish — with the hope of eventually ending — the deadly standoff between their two nations which was fueled by the false black/white polarities of the Cold War.

That Kennedy was able to do this, Douglass credits both his strong commitment to Catholic Christian moral teachings and to JFK’s personal acquaintance with death and suffering during World War II.

We learn some admirable things about Mr Khrushchev’s own capacity to learn and change, too, which were largely unknown at the time. In sum, we were all fortunate that both countries had leaders who, in essence, were neither self-righteous nor ideologically rigid. Had it been otherwise, we might not be here.

Throughout the remainder of Kennedy’s presidency, he had to constantly battle the ongoing pressure of his military and so-called intelligence advisers, all of whom distrusted the Soviets and who seemed to embrace the idea that “the only good Communist is a dead one.” Because the CIA had agents everywhere, it was aware of Kennedy’s ongoing exchanges with Khrushchev and took this as growing evidence of JFK’s drift toward dangerous liberalities of thought. 

Douglass also reveals ample evidence that he intended to withdraw all troops from Vietnam following his hoped-for re-election in 1964, and his turn towards breaking the Cold War cycle was no more clearly evidenced than in his remarkable and still deeply moving commencement address at American University in 1963. The following brief excerpt captures its high moral tone:

“I have, therefore, chosen this time and this place to discuss a topic on which ignorance too often abounds and the truth is too rarely perceived — yet it is the most important topic on earth: world peace.

“What kind of peace do I mean? ... Not a Pax Americana enforced on the world by American weapons of war. Not the peace of the grave or the security of the slave. I am talking about genuine peace, the kind of peace that makes life on earth worth living, the kind that enables men and nations to grow and to hope and to build a better life for their children — not merely peace for Americans but peace for all men and women — not merely peace in our time but peace for all time.

“I speak of peace, therefore, as the necessary rational end of rational men... Our problems are manmade — therefore, they can be solved by man... No problem of human destiny is beyond human beings. Man’s reason and spirit have often solved the seemingly unsolvable — and we believe they can do it again.

“There is no single, simple key to this peace — no grand or magic formula to be adopted by one or two powers. Genuine peace must be the product of many nations, the sum of many acts. It must be dynamic, not static, changing to meet the challenge of each new generation. For peace is a process — a way of solving problems.

“...World peace, like community peace, does not require that each man love his neighbor — it requires only that they live together in mutual tolerance, submitting their disputes to a just and peaceful settlement.”

This musing is not intended as a blind paean to JFK. But I do join with James Douglass in celebrating the man’s great courage in the face of overwhelming adversity, and his willingness to attempt to bring his fellow citizens along with him in turning away from blind and rigid formulations of belief structures and towards the recognition of the common interests all human beings share, no matter what their nationality or ideology.

If JFK — and his adversary/friend Khrushchev — could take such steps, despite all of their structured and ideological entanglements, perhaps — just perhaps — so can we. The need to do so is as urgent today as it was 50 years ago, but where or where are the leaders with the vision to take us there?

The author has been a college teacher of American history and political science, the director of the US National Catholic Rural Life Conference. He served as a member of the Iowa State House of Representatives, and retired from public service in the Iowa executive branch in 2004. Shanghai Daily condensed article.