The Young President

"It is unfair that Europeans are not allowed to participate in the election of the U.S. President, since their fate in so many ways is in the hands of men chosen by Americans alone," the late Aneurin Bevan once remarked, only half in jest. Last week not only the U.S. but Europe and the rest of the world were debating the qualities and qualifications of President-elect John F. Kennedy.

With something of a shock, even diplomats realized that they knew very little about him or his policies. All most were sure of was that Kennedy was 1) young, 2) rich, 3) Roman Catholic, 4) in favor of "something new."

In old Europe, the full recognition of Kennedy's youth surprised. At 43, Kennedy could be the son of almost any of the world's major aging leaders. He can spot Khrushchev, Mao and Macmillan 23 years, De Gaulle 26 and Adenauer 41.

Puzzling out Kennedy's campaign line, European analysts usually came to something like "flexibility," and not much more. But most were confident that Kennedy meant change. Observed Britain's conservative Daily Telegraph: "The American people have chosen adventure. Such a choice from such a people could well mark a turning point in history towards an era full of peril but also of great promise." Largely unspoken at official levels but widely discussed in editorials was a widespread feeling that in its declining days, the Eisenhower Administration had somehow lost its first confident touch or, at any rate, lost momentum. Even those who were confident that Kennedy would make few changes in Eisenhower's basic policies talked of "a new impetus."

Esteemed Mr. Nikita Khrushchev, whose editorialists had played the election as "Tweedledum v. Tweedledee," did not even wait until all the returns were in to jump on the winning side. "Esteemed Mr. Kennedy, allow me to congratulate you," he cabled. "We hope that while you are at this post the relations between our countries would again follow the line along which they were developing in Franklin Roosevelt's time."

The almost effusive wire was less a tribute to Kennedy than a hint that Khrushchev was willing to bury his recent belligerence along with his scapegoat, Eisenhower. Izvestia called the election results a "terrible defeat" for the Eisenhower-Nixon policies of "worsening international tensions." A sharp dissenter in the Communist world: Red China, where the New China News Agency warned that while both candidates served "U.S. ruling circles," Kennedy would "greatly increase military spending and extend war preparations."

Germany's Konrad Adenauer was almost openly pro-Nixon during the campaign--his fears of Democratic "flexibility" on Berlin could not be laid to rest despite Kennedy's tough line. Adenauer adjusted smoothly to the outcome. "Thank God the election is over," he cried. "We need have no worries. A steady continuation of American policy will be maintained." A top French official worried privately about "the men around Kennedy--they seem overexcited about Africa and Asia. There's no one with a close connection with the European problem." But the French generally welcomed what they thought would be new initiatives from Washington, and Charles de Gaulle fired off a telegram that began "Welcome, Dear Partner."

Britain mourned the passing of the close working relationship between Eisenhower and Macmillan, worried that Britain would lose some of its privileged status as the U.S.'s closest collaborator. British genealogists wistfully recalled that Kennedy's late sister Kathleen was the wife of the Marquess of Hartington, a nephew of Lady Dorothy. But the Spectator's editor, Ian Gilmour, predicted: "America under a Kennedy administration is going to be an exciting place. Europe will need monkey glands to keep up." One British official countered hopefully: "While the Prime Minister is older, we think he has a young mind."

Soundings. In the wake of the Quemoy-Matsu debate, Formosan officials even wore Nixon buttons on Election Day, and President Chiang Kai-shek drafted a congratulatory telegram for Nixon; next day, the officials talked with forced cheer about Kennedy's support of the Eisenhower position. Perhaps the most unblushing reaction came in South Viet Nam, where just before last week's coup, Foreign Minister Vu Van Mau showed newsmen a copy of Kennedy's book, The Strategy of Peace, flipped it open to page 63 and pointed to a passage he had underlined in red, calling for more aid to South Viet Nam.

Some neutral-leaning countries wandered down more romantic trails. Burbled the Ceylon Observer: "A new generation, has now taken command. It is their destiny that the Nassers, the Nkrumahs, the Castros and the Kennedys will shape." All over Latin America, despite Kennedy's interventionist threat in Cuba (snapped Castro's official newspaper Revolucion: "Four years of a rich illiterate"), his victory was hailed jubilantly as "a return to the policies of Franklin Roosevelt." In India and Malaya, neutralist Kennedy fans thought he really favors, as they do, recognition of Red China.

The Choice. Everybody anxiously awaited Kennedy's choice for Secretary of State. Pakistan, for instance, shuddered (and India glowed) at the thought of Chester Bowles, once Ambassador to India and an ardent Nehru supporter. Adenauer deeply distrusts Adlai Stevenson.

No chief of state would feel really satisfied about Kennedy himself until he saw him across a conference table. Adenauer and West German Socialist Leader Willy Brandt, who will probably face each other in Germany's own election next year, let it be known that they just happened to be planning trips to the U.S. shortly after inauguration. Other leaders, equally curious, would probably soon be in line. Kennedy himself has indicated that he plans a minimum of gallivanting around abroad.

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