"WE HOLD THESE TRUTHS TO BE SELF-EVIDENT:" KENNEDY, NIXON, AND THE ISSUE OF CUBAN DEMOCRACY IN THE AMERICAN PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN, 1960 by IAN MCANDREW B.A., The University of British Columbia, 1995 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Department of History) We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA August 1998 © Ian McAndrew, 1998 In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make it freely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission. Department of The University of British Columbia Vancouver, Canada DE-6 (2/88) 11 ABSTRACT This essay argues that John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon demonstrated ambivalent feelings toward democracy as they participated in the American presidential campaign of 1960. Their oratory, on the one hand, suggested unqualified reverence for the Western democratic tradition. Both devoted considerable attention in their campaigns to establishing before voters their shared belief that America would eventually triumph over the communist enemy because of the strength and greatness that accrues to a society which recognizes freedom at home. In their campaign discussions of Cuba, Kennedy and Nixon argued that Fidel Castro would ultimately fall from power not because Americans opposed him, but rather because he was reviled and despised as an anti-democratic leader by Cubans. By implication Kennedy and Nixon were suggesting that democracy was not only an ideal ,they held dear, but one that was universal and intrinsic to the human essence. As they venerated democracy in these terms, however, Kennedy and Nixon showed by their behavior that they had a marked lack of reverence for the ideals and values underpinning the U.S. political system. Both candidates were ambitious and driven in their pursuit of the presidency, and both were willing to distort truth and contrive public images if these measures appeared expedient to their efforts to achieve victory. Clearly, Kennedy and Nixon must be held accountable for sanctioning and employing campaign tactics of this sort. The essay concludes, however, that scholars should also hold them accountable for their ambivalence, for failure to recognize their duplicity in portraying democracy in iconographic terms while simultaneously demonstrating that they held iii victory as more important than principles like honesty. Throughout, an important secondary theme of this study concerns the discourse Kennedy and Nixon used in discussing Cuba and Cubans, and the essay critiques in equal measure their scornful portrayal of Fidel Castro, and their paternalistic attitudes toward the Cuban nation. TABLE OF CONTENTS Abstract ii Epigraph v Introduction 1 Foreign Affairs and the 1960 Campaign 5 Rhetorical Strategy and Presidential Ambition 16 American Exceptionalism and Essentialist Democracy 31 Conclusion 39 Endnotes 43 Bibliography 56 Tom Mann, on further consideration, has backed away from the idea of a demarche on free elections [in Cuba]. He argues that the risk is too great that Castro might accept the challenge, stage ostensibly free elections, win by a large majority and thereafter claim popular sanction for his regime.1 —Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., Memorandum to President Kennedy, 15 March 1961 The real question concerning the future of the Castro regime and its effect on the United States is whether Castro can in fact succeed in providing a better life for the Cuban people, in making Cuba a little paradise, a real pearl of the Antilles; and whether he can do a better job in this respect than the United States and its friends can do elsewhere in Latin America. In all honesty, one should be wary of dogmatic answers on this point. But if one has faith in the human values of the United States, and if that faith is supported by vigorous and intelligent action, then there is no need to fear competition from an unshaven megalomaniac. To look at the other side of the proposition, it would be a fatal concession to lack of faith in ourselves and our values if we decreed that Castro must go because he might succeed. —Senator J. William Fulbright, Memorandum to President Kennedy, 29 March 1961 1 Introduction On January 6, 1961, Richard Nixon sat in a joint session of the United States Congress, overseeing as he later described it, "his own 'funeral.' "3 As president of the Senate, Nixon presided with House Speaker Sam Rayburn, supervising legislators as they counted ballots submitted to the electoral college from the November 1960 presidential election. The result surprised no one. Returns from the popular vote had been close- indeed they had been disputed in certain key states—but Senator John F. Kennedy's 303- 219 electoral margin was already clearly established by this time. What may have been a surprise to Americans, on the other hand, was the level of composure and comportment Nixon maintained in loosing. Long renowned as one of the most tenacious competitors in contemporary U.S. politics, the vice president had discouraged calls for a voting recount even though allegations of widespread fraud suggested that Kennedy's victory may have rightfully been his. Regardless, Nixon fulfilled his constitutional duties with enthusiasm; politics in the United States required subordinating partisan loyalties to the procedural consensus that makes a democratic system possible: Mr. Speaker, since this is an unprecedented situation I would like to ask permission to impose upon the time of the members of this Congress to make a statement—which in itself is somewhat unprecedented. I promise to be brief. ... This is the first time in 100 years that a candidate for the presidency announced the result of an election in which he was defeated and announced the victory of his opponent. I do not think we could have a more striking and eloquent example of the stability of our constitutional system and of the proud tradition of the American people of developing, respecting, and honoring institutions of self-government. In our campaigns, no matter how hard fought they may be, no matter how close the election may turn out to be, those who loose accept the verdict, and support those who win. It is in this spirit that I now declare that John F. Kennedy has been elected President of the United States, and Lyndon B. Johnson, Vice 2 President of the United States.4 While at one level it is little more than a formality of the archaic electoral college system, congressional ballot counting can in fact perform important ritualistic functions. In this instance, it served as a palliative measure to seal the recrimination that had dominated national politics for the entire preceding year. Beginning in January 1960, the American public had watched as, first, both the Grand Old Party and the Democrats had nearly torn themselves apart in primary season in-fighting. This was followed by two rambunctious national conventions in July, a stalemated and cantankerous Senate session in August, and a general campaign since Labor Day that surpassed all its predecessors in media saturation and coast-to-coast stumping. By bringing together both parties, both houses of Congress, as well as Nixon, a member of the executive branch, ballot counting allowed national representatives of the American people to participate in ceremonial closure. They were demonstrating before constituents that constitutional stability was rooted in orderly leadership transition, and the vice president's comments further emphasized these same ideas. Accepting the verdict and supporting president-elect Kennedy, Nixon hoped to deliver a clear message that he and all the elected officials of the United States not only upheld the rules of the political system, but venerated its unwritten norms and conventions, its "proud traditions," as well. Researchers in the field of political communication have devoted considerable attention in recent years to the ritualistic aspects of American public life.5 This new literature is a valuable contribution to the existing body of work in that it opens new areas of inquiry within the well-established domain of political scholarship. However, it is remarkable that the interpretive models emerging from communication study are predominantly centered around themes of affirmation. For instance, it has been suggested that the structure of American politics virtually guarantees that campaign oratory will provide compelling reasons for voters to renew their faith in the system. Within this paradigm, genuinely, republican candidates—reluctant men willing to stand for office only 3 because they feel duty bound to answer a call for leadership from their peers—are the only presidential aspirants who can successfully rise through the pre-campaign selective process. Should voters grow skeptical, then, they are reminded every electoral season that "the political system is worthy of praise for the strong candidates it produces."6 Under a second model, patriotism constitutes the object of affirmation. Here it has been posited that the important ritualistic function of campaign activities is to reaffirm the prevalent American self-conception as a people defined above all by their distinctiveness vis-a-vis others: "Campaigns get leaders elected, yes, but ultimately, they also tell us who we as a people are, where we have been and where we are going, . they separate our culture from all others."7 Transposing this into the historian's lexicon, campaigns reassert American exceptionalism. To examine these propositions closely beside the 1960 campaign, though, shows how both are rather simplified.