From Colony to Superpower: U.S. Foreign Relations Since 1776 (117 page)

The greatest failure of JFK's Latin American policy came in the area of its most expansive hopes. The Alliance for Progress built roads, schools, hospitals, and low-cost housing in many Latin American countries. It achieved striking results in Venezuela. Overall, however, the growth rate fell far short of the targeted 2.5 percent. Nor did the aid program accomplish much in terms of democratization and economic reform. In Washington, it suffered from weak leadership, bureaucratic torpor, and mismanagement. The United States eventually contributed $18 billion, but 70 percent was in loans instead of grants. It did not extend major trade concessions, and a sharp decline in prices for Latin American exports offset the benefits of U.S. assistance. Economic progress was also nullified by runaway population growth, a problem the administration dared not tackle because of the explosive politico-religious ramifications at home.
The United States did not push Latin American governments on the crucial issue of land reform for fear of antagonizing entrenched elites, destabilizing recipient countries, or provoking U.S. corporations. The alliance floundered mainly because it set unrealistic goals: a fundamental restructuring of Latin American economics and politics in only ten years. Based on the impressive results achieved by the Marshall Plan in Europe and upon then fashionable academic models of development drawn from the U.S. experience, it ignored the idiosyncrasies of Latin American history and political culture. Perhaps the best that can be said is that it delayed by two decades the economic disaster that struck much of the continent in the 1980s.
⁴⁶

U.S. military aid in some ways subverted the Alliance for Progress. Typical of its broader concerns, the Kennedy administration emphasized strengthening Latin American internal security forces and training them in counterguerrilla methods to root out Castro-like insurgencies. It also drew on then voguish academic theories holding that enlightened military officers could be agents of development and even democratization in premodern societies. United States officials hoped that closer ties would inculcate Latin American military officers with democratic values and bring increased United States influence. The Kennedy administration expanded military aid by more than 50 percent to $77 million per year. In 1962 alone, more than nine thousand Latin American military personnel trained in such educational institutions as the School of the Americas at Fort Benning, Georgia. The results were not what had been hoped for. Between 1961 and 1963, military coups eliminated six elected governments. The U.S. aid program assisted the growth of military influence, and for the next two decades the military dominated hemispheric politics. Disillusioned with military aid, McNamara in 1965 recommended its termination. The State Department dissented, for fear, the secretary of defense reported without irony, of "alienating the military forces on whom the Alliance for Progress must depend to maintain stability in the area."
⁴⁷
The program continued.

The most frightening of Cold War crises came in Latin America in October 1962. Khrushchev's reckless attempt to place offensive missiles in Cuba brought the United States and the USSR to the brink of war and the world to the edge of nuclear conflagration. It can never be known precisely what
moved the Soviet premier to initiate such a dangerous undertaking. He later insisted that he was protecting his Cuban ally from U.S. invasion, a claim that gains greater credence in light of what is now known about Operation Mongoose. Cuba
had
become very important to the Soviet leadership, and the threat of a U.S. invasion must have seemed to Moscow very real. Still, it remains difficult to believe that Khrushchev would have assumed such risk exclusively for the sake of a small ally in the enemy's sphere of influence. By placing medium- and intermediate-range missiles in Cuba, he could strike targets across the eastern and southern United States, and he certainly hoped to make up on the cheap the huge U.S. lead in long-range missiles. He may have hoped to use the Cuban missiles to force a favorable settlement on Berlin. His gambler's instinct likely tempted him to act, along with the lingering belief that Kennedy could be bullied. He wanted to show the United States how it felt to be surrounded by enemy missiles, to throw "a hedgehog at Uncle Sam's pants," as he put it. Thus in May 1962, he persuaded an understandably wary Castro to accept sixty medium- and intermediate-range missiles and a panoply of military equipment to support them. The missiles were carefully concealed on the decks of transport ships. The forty-two thousand troops sent to guard them—armed with tactical nuclear weapons—sweated out the long summer cruise below deck to avoid surveillance. In what proved a colossal miscalculation, Khrushchev persuaded himself that the weapons could be made operational before the United States detected them, forcing Kennedy to acquiesce.
⁴⁸

He was wrong on both counts. CIA analysts using information gleaned from the defector Col. Oleg Penkovsky and aerial photographs accurately identified the mysterious objects as medium- and intermediate-range missiles. McNamara may have been right in arguing that these weapons did not significantly alter the overall strategic balance. From Kennedy's standpoint this was irrelevant. Stunned by Khrushchev's bold ploy and boxed in by his own public statements that offensive weapons in Cuba were unacceptable, he feared that to do nothing in the face of this most blatant Soviet challenge would be political and diplomatic suicide. To fully assess his options, he formed an Executive Committee (ExComm) of top advisers that met regularly during the crisis. He never seriously considered negotiations to secure removal of the weapons. The Soviets had secretly placed them in Cuba and lied about what they were doing. To negotiate under such circumstances would be seen as weak. He also
suspected that Moscow would drag out negotiations until the missiles were operational. The ornithological designations "hawk" and "dove" came into parlance during ExComm deliberations. Hawks such as the Joint Chiefs and Acheson pressed for air strikes against the missile sites followed by an invasion to make certain the weapons—and Castro—were removed. Doves questioned whether air strikes would destroy the sites, worried about the morality of a surprise attack against a small nation, rejected an invasion as too risky, and feared Soviet retaliation against Berlin. They urged a blockade of Cuba, to be called a quarantine, combined with pressures on Moscow to remove the missiles. Kennedy opted for this more cautious but still risky course. On Monday, October 22, he announced the quarantine and demanded removal of the missiles.
⁴⁹

His speech opened a week of harrowing moves and countermoves in this diplomatic chess game, played for the highest stakes. The United States went to the second highest state of defense readiness (DefCon 2) for the first time in the Cold War. The Strategic Air Command went to its highest alert, launching 550 B-52 bombers armed with nuclear warheads. Soviet technicians frantically worked on the missile sites, and by October 24 the medium-range weapons were near operational. United States warships took up station with standard operating procedures calling for firing a warning shot and, if that failed, disabling the rudder of the approaching ship. Soviet vessels with orders to return fire if fired upon moved ominously toward the quarantine line. Submarines from both sides silently plied the waters of the Caribbean. Harried officials worked under unimaginable pressures and went days without sleep; their nerves grew taut, their thought processes blurred. Attempting to micromanage the crisis to prevent a deadly mistake, even the famously detached Kennedy several times lost his cool. The first break occurred on October 24 when Soviet ships reversed course to avoid the quarantine. "We're eyeball to eyeball," the normally taciturn Rusk exclaimed, "and I think the other fella just blinked."
⁵⁰

Not quite. Only after yet another frightful scare was a crude settlement arranged. Apparently convinced on the basis of flawed intelligence that war was imminent, Khrushchev on October 25 dispatched to Washington a personal and highly emotional message warning of the "calamity" of
war and offering to remove the missiles in return for a U.S. pledge not to invade Cuba. The next day, his fears eased, he sent another message that left U.S. officials shaking their heads in dismay.
⁵¹
More measured in tone, it upped the ante by also demanding removal of U.S. Jupiter missiles from Turkey. These weapons were obsolete, but getting rid of them raised numerous complications.
⁵²
The anxiety level soared when a U-2 aircraft was shot down over Cuba. Kennedy's military advisers demanded retaliation. Preparations were being completed for an air strike to be followed by an invasion of Cuba. Unknown to the Americans, Castro was pushing Moscow to launch a first strike against the United States. On October 27, "Black Saturday," the administration shrewdly decided to ignore the second letter and accept the more favorable terms of the first. In the meantime, Robert Kennedy privately assured the Soviet ambassador that the Turkish missiles would be removed. Painfully aware of his military inferiority, Khrushchev, after hours of agonizing suspense, accepted the U.S. proposals.
⁵³

The missile crisis was the defining moment of the Kennedy presidency, and many observers have given him high marks. He was firm but restrained in responding to this most critical challenge, it is argued. He sought advice from different quarters. He left Khrushchev room for retreat. He did not gloat in the apparent U.S. victory.
⁵⁴
The October confrontation is also the most studied of Cold War crises, and as more has been learned, the praise for Kennedy has been tempered. To be sure, Khrushchev bears primary responsibility for the confrontation. He deluded himself into thinking that he could get away with an incredibly rash move. But Kennedy's obsession with Cuba and the hostile actions carried out in Mongoose provided the occasion and rationale for Khrushchev's actions, a connection totally lost on U.S. officials at the time. Even while he rejected the more risky alternatives, Kennedy's initial response pushed the two nations to the verge of war. He did hold the hawks at bay and displayed skill in crisis management. But he would have been the first to admit that luck and chance helped determine the outcome. The United States came within hours of an invasion that could have had horrific consequences. The number of Soviet troops in Cuba far exceeded U.S. estimates, and they were armed with tactical nuclear weapons. An invasion could have
triggered nuclear war. "In the end," political scientist William Taubman concludes, Khrushchev and Kennedy "found the courage to pull back, leaving the other room to retreat . . . but not before the world came closer than it ever has to nuclear conflagration."
⁵⁵

The missile crisis had profound and in some ways paradoxical consequences. Kennedy's position at home was strengthened, at least for the short run. The Democrats bucked tradition by gaining seats in the Senate in the midterm elections. The president's personal popularity and approval rating soared. On the other side, Khrushchev's claims of victory rang hollow. Although he hung on for two more years, his power was reduced, his days numbered.
⁵⁶

Following the missile crisis, Moscow and Washington took the first groping steps toward what would be called detente. The Kennedy-Khrushchev confrontation had been highly personal, and the two leaders, after facing the nuclear abyss together, seem to have gained that empathy that comes from shared traumatic experience. In June 1963, they established a direct telegraphic link—the so-called hotline—to maintain close contact when required. The long-simmering Berlin problem began to lose its centrality. In one of his most noteworthy speeches, JFK at American University in June 1963 spoke the unspeakable, calling for a "genuine" peace, not a "Pax Americana enforced on the world by American weapons of war," observing that "enmities between individuals, as between nations, do not last forever," and urging Americans to reassess their attitudes toward the Soviet Union. Khrushchev called it the best speech since FDR and helped disseminate it by stopping the jamming of VOA broadcasts.
⁵⁷
The two nations subsequently agreed on a limited test ban treaty, a first, highly circumscribed, but still significant step toward controlling nuclear weapons. The real loser of the missile crisis, Castro was enraged at being sold out by Khrushchev—"no cojones," he thundered. Recognizing the opportunity, JFK over the next year quietly explored the possibility of accommodation with Cuba.
⁵⁸

Kennedy's 1963 dovishness has fed speculation that had he lived he would have moved further to end the Cold War, but such arguments
must be treated with caution. Old fears and suspicions died hard. If each side after October 1962 saw the urgency of change, each also felt limits to how far they could go. Hard-liners in each nation made deviation from Cold War certitudes risky, especially for Kennedy, who faced reelection in 1964. The one clear lesson many Soviet officials drew was not to get caught again in a position of military inferiority, and Moscow mounted a major effort to gain nuclear parity. Whether from politics or conviction, Kennedy's new dovishness only went so far. Shortly after American University, he made another speech, more publicized and better remembered, before shouting throngs in Berlin denouncing Communism and dismissing the idea of working with Communists. A speech to have been delivered in Dallas on November 22, 1963, bristled with boilerplate anti-Communism. While encouraging secret approaches toward Havana, he also publicly condemned Castro. In the spring of 1963, harassment of Cuba resumed. On the day of JFK's assassination, an agent delivered to a plant in the Havana regime a ballpoint pen with a hypodermic needle designed to poison the Cuban leader. Ever the political animal, Kennedy played both sides in the post-missile-crisis world, carefully keeping his options open.
⁵⁹

The major geopolitical result of the missile crisis was to accelerate the breakdown of bipolarity. By October 1962, the United States and its European allies were already sharply divided on economic and strategic issues. As the European economies recovered from World War II, the dollar gap that had plagued them in the era of the Marshall Plan gave way to a rising U.S. balance of payments deficit, a danger to the national security Kennedy considered second only to nuclear war. The president also feared that under the complex Bretton Woods arrangements to stabilize currencies with gold, the allies could employ their dollar surpluses to exhaust U.S. gold reserves. The Europeans increasingly doubted that the United States would use nuclear weapons to defend them and sought to acquire their own, a prospect that, especially in the case of West Germany, frightened Washington. Flexible response to them meant that the United States would defend Europe with conventional forces that they would provide. The Kennedy administration sought with little success to ease U.S. economic problems and resolve alliance differences by pushing tariff reduction, European unification, and such gimmicks as nuclear sharing through a Multilateral Force (MLF). It advanced the radical proposal of withdrawing large numbers of U.S. troops from Europe. It succeeded only in using the leverage provided by the 1961 Berlin crisis to persuade West Germany
to purchase large quantities of U.S. military equipment to offset the spiraling cost of keeping American troops in Europe.
⁶⁰