Taking the Initiative

Only when our arms are sufficient beyond doubt can we be certain beyond doubt that they will never be employed.

--John Kennedy's Inaugural Address

Stepping up the tempo of his Administration's action on the Berlin crisis, President Kennedy last week asked the Congress and the nation to strengthen, beyond doubt, the already powerful U.S. military machine. At the same time, Administration strategists sought to seize the diplomatic initiative, in an all-out effort to preserve--beyond doubt--the freedom of the non-Communist world.

Not even 19th century Great Britain, in the heyday of empire, had as many military commitments as the U.S. Armed Forces when John Kennedy took office last January. And never was any force better equipped for its job. But last week, convinced that the danger of battle lies hidden in many trouble spots around the earth, the President called for reinforcements that will bring the U.S. close to full wartime strength and will also provide new flexibility to meet a wide range of military threats. In a televised speech from the White House, and in a legislative message to Congress next day, the President requested an additional $3,454,600,000 for his defense budget, raising requests for fiscal 1962 to a record $47.5 billion. "We intend," he said, summing up the requests, "to have a wider choice than humiliation or all-out nuclear action."

Under the Lights. Seldom had John Kennedy worked so hard on a speech. His favorite speechwriter, Presidential Assistant Ted Sorensen, produced four drafts, each including a number of alternative demands that Kennedy eventually put aside. Until the day before he spoke, the President had planned to ask for a tax hike, rather than let the budget deficit rise higher. But Budget Director David Bell, Economic Adviser Walter Heller and Treasury Secretary Douglas Dillon argued that the economy was strong enough to stand the added debt, and that new taxes might well slow the recovery from last winter's recession. Kennedy finally decided to ask only for measures that would end the Post Office deficit, but left the way open for higher taxes next year, when he promises to present a balanced budget.

The day of his address, Kennedy worked over Sorensen's final version of the speech, wrote in a moving personal note at the end about the trials of the presidency. After a solitary dinner in the White House, he walked to his office, crowded with reporters, TV technicians and equipment. The air conditioning was turned low (lest microphones pick up the hum), and the President perspired heavily under the klieg lights. His delivery seemed almost deliberately low-keyed, but he appeared nervous as he frequently wiped the sweat from his brow, brushed back his damp hair.

In reality, Kennedy was as confident and convinced as ever in his career. "West Berlin has now become--as never before --the great testing place of Western courage and will," he said, in a paragraph that should be long remembered. "I hear it said that West Berlin is militarily untenable--and so was Bastogne, and so, in fact, was Stalingrad. Any dangerous spot is tenable if men--brave men--will make it so. We do not want to fight--but we have fought before. And others in earlier times have made the same dangerous mistake of assuming that the West was too selfish and too soft and too divided to resist invasion of freedom in other lands."

Not Negotiable. Leaving plenty of room for Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev to back down, the President reiterated: "We shall always be prepared to discuss international problems with any and all nations that are willing to talk, and listen, with reason. We have previously indicated our readiness to remove any actual irritants in West Berlin. But the freedom of the city is not negotiable. We cannot negotiate with those who say, 'What's mine is mine and what's yours is negotiable.' "

Direct, clear and forceful, the speech was an effective performance and it drew an enthusiastic response. Although conservatives in Congress grumbled that Kennedy should have cut down on some of his proposed domestic spending while he raised the military budget, G.O.P. leaders praised the tone of the talk, agreed to cooperate with Democrats in passing the necessary legislation for Kennedy's signature this week. Allied leaders wired their approval to the White House, and even such neutrals as India and Sweden had cautious praise. Newspapers across the land and in Western Europe approved of the statement with few qualifications; mail to the White House ran 100 to 1 in favor of the President in unprecedented quantities. Awakened to full understanding that the U.S. would go to war if all else failed, householders besieged their local civil defense headquarters, inquired about underground shelters; men volunleered for enlistment or recall with the reserves.

Beyond Berlin. Without question, the additions to U.S. defense strength and the new, ready-for-anything national attitude would help John Kennedy's diplomats in any discussions with the Soviet Union. During the Laotian peace talks--which still drag on in Geneva--Communist diplomats have refused to believe that the U.S. would carry out its halfhearted threats to defend either Laos or embattled South Viet Nam with force of arms--and U.S. negotiators have been unable to prove them wrong. Aware now that the U.S. at last means business, Tass, in its bitter response to Kennedy's speech, insisted that the West had exaggerated Russian responsibility for the Berlin crisis. Khrushchev, who could well remember Stalingrad,* well understood Jack Kennedy's pointed reference to the beleaguered city, and he might indeed think twice about his intransigence, and suggest negotiations at which he could save face while backing down. The U.S. is eager to help him to that conclusion; last week Secretary of State Dean Rusk said dryly that the U.S. diplomatic position on Berlin "would not be defensive."

Next week Rusk will fly to Paris for a foreign ministers' meeting to discuss what the West might be willing to concede in any negotiations over Berlin. Yet after Kennedy's steadfast stand, it was clear that there would be almost nothing to concede and not much more to negotiate.

Any talks on Berlin could do no more than permit tensions to dissolve -- and preserve the status quo. "Ideally," said one presidential adviser, "what we are seeking is a talky, do-nothing conference."

It was now obvious, to the nation and to the world, that John Kennedy was looking far beyond the threat to Berlin, preparing for the menace of a Communist aggression that has no global limits. The military buildup he has begun is directed not so much at the possibility of war on German soil as at the reality of unspecified crises still to come. In this farseeing aim lies the significance of his speech. Beyond its impact on the Berlin question -- and impact it will surely have -- the nation's new mood and new strength should douse any future brush fires that Khrushchev chooses to light. For if the U.S. is prepared to deal with aggression militarily -- and there can be no doubt now that it is -- then it will be all the more prepared to deal with it in advance by diplomacy.

* In September 1942, the German Sixth Army attacked and occupied the industrial city of Stalingrad on the Volga River, dislodged all but a vastly outnumbered body of Russian troops on the river's west bank. Both sides suffered staggering casualties, but the Russian rear guard held on bravely until reinforcements arrived. In a midwinter counterattack, the Russians trapped the German army, which surrendered in February 1943, and the course of the war turned.

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