John F. Kennedy dazzled the nation as our 34th president and our first television-era politician. He was the grandson of Boston politicians and the son of an enormously successful and ambitious American capitalist.
His record as president was mixed. Even he, from everything we can tell, was dissatisfied with his civil rights leadership, with failures in Cuba, with the lack of progress in Vietnam and with his inability to win support in Congress for most of his legislative program.
Yet he was remarkably popular during most of his presidency, and trust in the federal government was nearly at an all-time high.
But, as we have been reminded lately, the real John F. Kennedy vanished on Nov. 22, 1963. What Kennedy was and what he achieved — or failed to achieve — has long been altered by our human need for heroes (or, in some cases, for villains).
Kennedy often becomes whatever people want him to have been. “A romantic concept of what may have been,” biographer William Manchester wrote, “can be far more compelling than what was.”
Kennedy’s presidency and his legend and legacy are obviously accorded a more favored and magical place because of the shocking way he died. Kennedy himself would doubtless be taken aback by the inflated Camelot images of his presidency and his accomplishments. No doubt he would agree with those who say he accomplished less than he set out to do. And he would add, as most everyone now knows, that he was no saint.
Still, he relished politics and loved being president. “Sure, it’s a big job,” he quipped. “But I don’t know anybody who can do it better than I can.”
“Plus,” he sometimes added, “the pay is good and I can walk to work.”
Kennedy yearned to be a wise, purposeful and idealistic leader, to be more than a conventional transactional power broker. But to get to the White House, he knew he needed first to be a smart, savvy politician.
Kennedy was not a natural campaigner at first. But he became a graceful, much-in-demand, skilled politician. He came close to winning his party’s vice-presidential nomination in 1956, and won re-election to the U.S. Senate in 1958 with nearly 74 percent of the vote.
By 1960, Kennedy had become a talented and incandescent politician. He had developed stage presence and star quality.
He described himself as “an idealist without illusion.” But the times dictated the need for a politician who was strongly anti-Communist, who supported tax cuts, and, he believed, took a slow, evolutionary approach to civil rights. He was, beneath all the glamour, a pragmatist.
Critics say Kennedy too often tried to govern and lead with rhetoric. And that he (a bit too cheerfully) deferred to establishment power brokers in Congress, Wall Street and elsewhere. Others say he confused popular leadership with political leadership.
The debates over what Kennedy accomplished or didn’t accomplish, of his breakthroughs or failures, remarkably continue 50 years later. But two things are striking about how Americans remember him today:
• He remains one of the most revered presidents of the past 100 years, quite apart from whether people were alive at the time of his presidency.
• People of all ages cannot remember much about his public policy initiatives, yet they admire his optimism, hope, courage and his willingness to serve his country both in war and in high political office.
One of Kennedy’s lasting contributions was making public life attractive. He talked about politics and public service not as a problem, but as a means of solving societal problems. He got people involved. He was able — especially with projects such as the Peace Corps and the man-on-the-moon initiative — to inspire the nation, encourage communitarian ideals, and appeal to compassion, decency and hope.
Historians, biographers and documentary-makers have filled the public space this month, reminding us that Kennedy’s presidency left us with tantalizing “might-have-beens.” And in his presidency, people find whatever they want to find.
JFK is forever frozen in our collective minds at age 43 when he was campaigning for the presidency, or at age 46 when he died (ironically, on yet another campaign trip, trying to unify Texas Democrats before the coming 1964 elections).
He served as president just as pride in America was at its peak. Question: Is our nostalgic embrace of Kennedy conflated with the halo surrounding the nation’s rise to “the American Century” superpower status?
Second question: Is the high public approval Kennedy achieved — both then and still today — a function of his deliberative caution, his fear of ideological overreach, and his aversion to using the bully pulpit to challenge ingrained American conventional wisdom at the time? Was his reluctance to use his political capital part of his uncanny skill as a politician — or was it, as a few critics suggest, a display of profile more than of courage?
Hard to know.
What would JFK say about all these retrospectives? He would remind us that we can become a better nation; that more people need to take part in politics; and that all of us should care about better schools, social justice for all, and promoting greater economic growth, innovation and free and fair trade.
He would remind us, too, that desirable change often takes more than an election or a presidency or national leader. Change, when it comes, customarily comes from outside of Washington, when large numbers of people (not just the elites or the “selectorate”) embrace necessary reforms, then advocate for them.
He would be highly concerned about political cynicism and the alarming distrust in government at all levels. Kennedy liked spirited partisan debate and enlightened discussions about leaders and their use or misuse of political power — but he would warn us: “Don’t give up on politics!”
Thomas E. Cronin’s book, “Leadership Matters” (co-authored with M.A. Genovese) was named Outstanding Leadership Book of the Year at October’s meeting of the International Leadership Association in Montreal.
