Jack Kennedy - Chris Matthews [151]
The history of the Cold War is written in the long lists of these many tests. During this period, our allies France and Great Britain were intent on developing their own nuclear arsenals. But distinctions such as “atomic” and “hydrogen,” “nuclear” and “thermonuclear” mean little to the average citizen. Americans accepted the basic contradiction. The United States could keep the Soviets from aggression in Europe by the threat of nuclear retaliation. At the same time, neither side would dare use nuclear weapons, knowing the other would as well.
Even after Kennedy issued the directive for underground nuclear tests, he continued to be pressured by his own experts. They wanted more. In November, the National Security Council delivered a blunt assessment: “If we test only underground and the Soviets tested in the atmosphere, they would surely pass us in nuclear technology.” Still, Kennedy persisted in trying to negotiate. Following a further failure to bring the Soviets around to the American position, he let it be known that the United States was now prepared to begin atmospheric testing again. Though he did nothing beyond indicate American willingness to resume, it was a necessary step in getting to the negotiating table. With it came a new pressure: Prime Minister Harold Macmillan of Britain, considered by JFK a personal as well as an official friend, urged the United States to put off any such activity for six more months.
As 1962 began, Kennedy hadn’t given up on his hope of bringing the Russians around to his idea of a peaceful rivalry, not a nuclear one. What he cared about, above all, was making sure the nuclear genie got put back in the bottle; for him, arriving at a mutual test ban would be the first step. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step,” he liked to quote.
Nothing mattered more to him.
In February he and Prime Minister Macmillan jointly wrote a letter to Khrushchev, calling for a “supreme effort” to stop the arms race and avert a nuclear apocalypse. Kennedy, in a phone call with Ben Bradlee not long after sending it, shared his frustration with what he called this “hard-boiled” conflict over nuclear weapons testing between the United States and the USSR, but also the “soft-boiled” one with the British.
Kennedy’s national security team now voted unanimously to resume atmospheric testing. But with the next round of international peace talks scheduled for March in Geneva, he wanted to delay the announcement. It would get in the way, he felt, of offering Khrushchev another chance.
It didn’t matter. Once again, his approaches were refused, his aims thwarted—and, as a result, he saw himself gradually pushed toward brinkmanship. At this point, with the Russians intransigent and any attempts at persuasive diplomacy a failure, Jack felt it was time to present his case to the country. On March 2, speaking on television and radio for forty-five minutes, he made the case for deterrence, explaining the strategic necessity.
He wanted to explain to millions of worried Americans why he’d agreed to resume atmospheric testing. “For all the awesome responsibilities entrusted to this office, none is more somber to contemplate than the special statutory authority to employ nuclear weapons in the defense of our people and freedom.” He needed to test, he said, in order to maintain the country’s deterrent strength. “It is our hope and prayer that these . . . deadly weapons will never be fired.” Red Fay, at the White House for dinner that night, recalled how deeply delivering the speech had affected his friend. “It was about 9:30 when the President finally arrived. Jackie had placed me so that when he came in, I’d be sitting on his left. He was flushed . . . really worn from the whole experience. Everybody sensed that he was very tense. His hands shook. . . . Everybody else, because of his tension, all started to talk among themselves. He directed his conversation to me and said, ‘God, I hope you’ve been enjoying