LBJ in Kennedy's Shadow
AMERICA—I
From D. W. BROGAN
month, and I arrived exactly eight months after I left it in April 1966. I am used to the volatile character of American life, to the degree to which the American people is varium et mutabile beyond the power of women. But I have never witnessed so rapid a change in the position of any administration as that which has been eating away the prestige and so, to a great extent, the power of President Johnson.
I had seen declines of this kind before, the last
unhappy year of the Truman administration, the acceptance of the fact in 1958-60 that 'Ike is a nice guy' but that President Eisenhower was not the national leader that the American people was beginning to want again. In the spring of 1966, the disillusionment with the wonder-worker of 1964 was wide and deep, in particular 'on the Hill,' in both Houses of Congress, but especi- ally in the Senate, where Lyndon Johnson had so long ruled as the great manager. But some of the criticism simply reflected the bitter realisation that whatever the Constitution may say, Congress and the President are no longer equal and co-ordinate powers, that in a country whose sons walk in space and may soon be on the moon (if the earth remains habitable), the checks and balance of 1787 have been for ever upset. But there was more to it than that. 'The Great Society was not paying the expected political dividends. The costs of the Great Society were bigger than most of those who were at ease in the old order were ready to pay, and the gratitude of the assumed beneficiaries, especially the negroes, was inadequate.
But, of course, it was already 'the War' that was eating away, like a gigantic termite, at the great political edifice that seemed so massive, secure, permanent on the morrow of the Gold- water debacle. It is the war that now over- shadows real achievements and obscures real problems. Domestic problems are explained, or explained away, in terms of the diversion of resources to Vietnam; the unsatisfactory per- formance of the Treasury and Federal Reserve Board is put down to Vietnam. The actions or antics of the 'Peaceniks' are seen either as a great demonstration of the conscience of the young or as unpatriotic exhibitionism (few see it, a point to be noted, as a 'Commy plot'). But the war is now more than a headache; it is a heartache. For fewer and fewer Americans know what American policy is, or why. This is an increasingly young country and the young are all from Missouri; 'they want to be shown.' They are not being shown.
There is the famous credibility gap. This is not a new phenomenon in America (or Britain). Governments put the best face on things and make prophecies that may turn out to be non- sensical. (Compare the Wilson promises of 1964 with the painful performances of 1966.) But a long series of optimistic statements from Wash- ington and Saigon has destroyed faith. It is not only that the White House and the State Depart- ment are disbelieved. So is the Pentagon. So is its illustrious chief. The sceptics and critics have almost always been right. I can remember a senator, one of the leaders of the not very loyal Democratic opposition, telling me in 1965 that the United States would have 250,000 men in Vietnam by 1966. When I reminded him of this in 1966, he had forgotten his prophecy but doubled his bet. 'There will be 500,000 in 1967.' I reminded him a few days ago of how probable it was that his despairing prophecy would be right. He was not comforted. One of the new Republican senators expressed in private far more scepticism than he thinks it politic to do in public. The most devastating retort to the optimistic Hoover predictions was by 1932 a universal `Sez you!' President Johnson hasn't fallen to the Hoover level yet, but he is sliding down—and fast.
It is in this context that the national Johnson- Kennedy feud is ominous for the Democratic party. President Johnson may gain something from the wi4espread belief that he was given too rough a ride in the original text of Mr William Manchester's book. But a point to be noted, if not the only point to be noted, is that the Ghost of President Kennedy is so potent. In domestic achievements, the Johnson achieve- ment is far greater than the Kennedy achieve- ment and, although it can be argued that JFK would have been as successful as President Johnson if he had lived to serve that second term which was accepted as certain by all but the most purblind Republicans, the fact remains that it was Johnson, not Kennedy, who carried the New Frontiers policy to legislative victory. But Johnson 'carries the can' for the side-effects of the programme; he does not get enough praise or even notice for his legislative triumphs.
He is, of course, a victim of accident and of timing. A week or two ago, I heard a passion- ate and impressive Black Muslim pour forth all his bitterness—and illusions—to a group of semi- stunned 'liberals.' The negro establishment and counter-establishment has rallied to the defence of the playboy leader, Representative the Rev- erend Adam Clayton Powell. He is defended in much the same spirit as, over a century ago, Irish Catholics defended, often reluctantly, 'the Pope's Brass Band.' And the Powell case, how- ever it goes, hurts the Democratic party, which has to fear both a white and a black backlash. The President is more and more surrounded by Texans, more and more cut off from the north- ern Democrats, who blame him for their electoral discomfiture in November 1966. (It should be noted that the most vocal of the critics, Gover- nor Hughes of Iowa, ran well ahead of President Johnson in 1964 and may blame President Johnson for dissipating some of the political assets accumulated by Governor Hughes.) There is no gratitude in politics and the Democrats in the North don't think they have much to be grateful for.
The war seems endless—and pointless. It is already what it was for the French, la sale guerre. It may not be simply that, but neither the President nor the Secretary of State nor the Secretary of Defence have made their policy as understandable as Mr Truman made his in 1950-1952 (and much good did that do Mr Truman!). To use a fashionable phrase: there is no dialogue. The President has never handled the press well; he is not good on television; he has no 'charisma.' And there is always the con- trast. The contrast between the Kennedy White House and the Johnson White House. The con- trast in manner. (It is difficult to understand why the official photograph of President Johnson that one sees in post offices and in the State Department is so unjustly repellent.) And every- where there are attractive pictures of President Kennedy, as numerous in the stores of Presi- dent Johnson's home town of Austin as in Washington. The dead hero's head is on coins and stamps. His voice is preserved in record albums and his face in new picture-books.
I do not think that John Kennedy was rhetorically effective, although he was often con- vincing. But if there is a rival to his recorded voice, it is that of Senator Dirksen chanting 'Gallant Men' in a voice richer even than FDR's. It is no wonder that what are politely called 'the President's personality traits' have taken a sour turn. It is not MacBird, the irreverent and savage parody of Macbeth, that hurts. It is that
Etanquo's ghost is still walking and has left a Malcolm in the person of Robert Kennedy. It
is hard on President Johnson—and on the United States which badly needs a generally trusted and admired leader. At the moment of writing, the job is vacant.
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