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ohn F. Kennedy is not running for anything in 2008, but you’d never know it. A front-page photo in the New York Times
recently showed his electability in Serbia, of all places, where local
candidates are vying to establish their credentials as the latest
citizens of the New Frontier. Back in the U.S., no candidate has
captured the reflected glory of JFK more than Barack Obama, thanks to
his youth, eloquence, and message of change. The Kennedy-Obama parallel
has been played up by the press, and Obama’s campaign has not
discouraged those comparisons—indeed, it has brought in Ted Sorensen,
JFK’s talented speechwriter, to make speeches and render the judgment
of history. But the comparison falls short when voters consider
the key question for 2008: foreign policy experience. It’s true that
Obama, like Kennedy, is a youngish senator (at 46, three years older
than Kennedy when he ran for president), but the parallel falters after
that. The more one looks into Kennedy’s lifelong preparation for the
job, the more one realizes how misleading it was, then and now, to
describe him as inexperienced. Everyone who has stressed Kennedy’s
youth, from Dan Quayle in 1988 to Obama today, has bumped up against
the uncomfortable fact that JFK was an extremely well-informed
statesman in 1960. As Lloyd Bentsen reminded us in the zinger that
pole-axed Quayle, the truth was a lot more complicated than the myth.
Kennedy, of course, was a decorated veteran of World War Two, which
he fought in the South Pacific. But before and after the conflict, he
had acquired travel experiences that most people take a lifetime to
accumulate, richly detailed in biographies like Robert Dallek’s An Unfinished Life.
His father was ambassador to the United Kingdom in the pivotal year
1938, and young Kennedy was in the audience of the House of Commons as
the Munich deal was furiously debated (the experience shaped his first
book, Why England Slept). As a young man, he made American
officials uneasy with his relentless desire to see parts of Europe and
the world that few Americans ever encountered. In 1939 alone, he took
in the Soviet Union, Romania, Turkey, Palestine, Lebanon, Syria,
Greece, France, Germany, Italy and Czechoslovakia. As the war was
ending, he attended the San Francisco conference that created the
United Nations, filing seventeen dispatches for the Chicago Herald American.
He
maintained this lively interest in world affairs as a young
Congressman. In 1951 he went on two extraordinary journeys, the first a
five-week trip to Europe, from England to Yugoslavia, to consider the
military situation on the continent. Then, a few months later, a
seven-week, 25,000-mile trek that included Israel, Iran, Pakistan,
India, Singapore, Thailand, French Indochina, Korea and Japan. It was
this trip, in particular, that awakened a sense in him that the old
colonial empires were doomed, and that the French effort to keep
Vietnam was especially futile. In the aftermath of his trip, he gave
speeches that ridiculed the French (and by extension, the American)
position, and proved that he was no simplistic Cold Warrior. In 1957,
he continued to chart a maverick’s course with a deeply-informed speech
on Algeria that criticized France and the U.S. for trying to sustain an
unsustainable conflict against an insurgent population. It infuriated
both Democrats and Republicans, and France, a NATO ally at the time,
was enraged—but obviously he was correct.
Critics
and admirers alike have generally neglected the full extent of
Kennedy’s early experience. But clearly it shaped him profoundly, and
each journey deepened his portfolio. Further, each trip empowered him,
and gave him the confidence to swim against the tide, a trait that
would prove essential in the presidency. While dedicated to veterans
and certain core principles of American defense, he also showed, well
before his election, a growing skepticism of the extremes of Pentagon
thinking. Perhaps most impressively, he found the courage to reject the
knee-jerk isolationism of his most important backer—his father, Joseph
P. Kennedy.
To be sure, even with all of
that training, Kennedy showed inexperience during his early months in
the White House, including the disastrous decision to invade Cuba’s Bay
of Pigs, and his ineffective performance at his first summit with
Khrushchev in Vienna. But he soon righted himself, and returned to the
independent judgment that he had acquired during his long and literal
journey toward the presidency.
Of course,
travel does not instantly translate into electability—if it did,
Geraldo Rivera might be president. But it’s an important consideration,
especially for a candidate like Obama, who is running against an array
of Democratic contenders (Biden, Dodd, Clinton, Richardson) who have
far more first-hand experience dealing with issues of foreign policy
and national security. And compared to Kennedy, Obama’s record of world
travel is quite thin.
Like Kennedy, Obama did
spend some time in his youth living in a foreign country. And because
that country, Indonesia, is both Asian and majority Muslim, Obama
can—and does—claim to have a unique perspective on a region and a
religion that increasingly command Washington’s attention. But it’s
worth noting the considerable differences between Obama’s and Kennedy’s
overseas experiences. Kennedy lived in Europe, then the geo-strategic
center of the world, as a footloose young man who had front-row seats
at momentous diplomatic dramas, thanks to his ambassador father. Obama
lived as a boy in Indonesia—a big, fascinating country, but not central
to U.S. global strategy. If that childhood experience had a genuine
impact beyond teaching him the obvious truth that the world is diverse,
then he needs to make it clearer how he will translate that knowledge
into sound policy.
As an adult prior to
wining elective office, Kennedy continued to see the world, including
from the helm of a PT boat. Obama’s campaign has implied that the
candidate traveled extensively before assuming office, but so far has
resisted appeals to provide further information. Given the prevalence
of the Kennedy comparison, Obama’s travels have become relevant enough
to be made public.
Like Kennedy, Obama has
taken several long trips as a lawmaker—through the Middle East, Africa
and the former Soviet Union. But there is one noteworthy gap in Obama’s
itinerary: except for a brief stopover in London, returning from Russia
in 2005, he has apparently never been to Western Europe since launching
his political career. What renders this gap especially surprising is
that Obama is Chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Subcommittee on
Europe. Not only has the Senator not visited the region his committee
oversees, but as Steve Clemons of the Washington Note has observed,
Obama’s committee has not held a single policy-oriented hearing since
he’s been chairman. Europe may not be the central playing field it was
in Kennedy’s day, but it remains essential to the global set of
alliances and relationships that the U.S. needs to cultivate in the new
century. In fact, there is no place where it will be more urgent to
rebuild bridges. As Obama knows, the United States cannot do it
alone—and Europe will need to play a supporting role in whatever
strategy the next president articulates.
It
is encouraging that Obama has several times displayed what his campaign
calls independence, expressing his disapproval of the Iraq war in
particular. But disapproving Iraq is not exactly independence—it is
more or less the standard line on the left, and quite different from
developing a nuanced third position, which was Kennedy’s strength in
the 1950s, as he steered between the hand-wringing of Stevenson
liberals and the mindless conservatism of many Democrats and
Republicans on the right. It’s true that Obama threatened to bomb
Pakistan, a position that most people on the left would find scary—but
that is not the kind of measured solution, tough but practical, that
most of us associate with JFK. In fact, it is a rather extraordinary
lurch to the right, like an involuntary tic, that most on the right
would actually disavow. It is difficult to see how a bombing run over
Pakistan would do anything to help anyone except the very people it was
designed to punish.
In an editorial supporting Obama, the Boston Globe
called attention to his “intuitive sense of the wider world.†But
“intuition†would have seemed a silly quality to JFK, a realist even
among the realists of his day. He and the other veterans he had served
with were tired of inflated promises and wanted a world that would live
up to the sacrifice they had already made for it. Like Kennedy, Obama
certainly has a capacity to learn, and learn quickly. But there are
qualities that cannot be gleaned from briefing books, even by the
quickest study—independence of judgment, calm determination, and the
deep knowledge of all possibilities that comes from years of experience
in the trenches. To his credit, Obama has not personally cited
intuition as a reason to vote for him, but the campaign profited
enormously from the Globe endorsement, and has tolerated a certain vagueness about his background and intentions that now needs to be clarified.
In fact, no modern politician has trafficked more in “intuition†than
President Bush, who trumpeted his “instincts†to an incredulous Joe
Biden as his justification for invading Iraq, and famously claimed to
see into the soul of Vladimir Putin. To run entirely on intuition and
the negation of experience can work, and did in 2000. But to do so
while wearing the deeply realist mantle of John F. Kennedy is to spin a
garment of such fine cloth that it is completely invisible.
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