The Mythology of Munich

Peace through strength. "Speak softly and carry a big stick," said Teddy Roosevelt, who actually talked loudly but was a master at achieving peace by credibly threatening to use force. In 1904, when an Islamic brigand named Raisuli kidnapped an American businessman named Perdicaris, President Roosevelt won his release by sending warships and this telegram: "The U.S. government wants Perdicaris alive or Raisuli dead." JFK also understood that the choice between appeasement and force is a false one; the trick is to know when to deal and when to fight. He was tested severely in October 1962, when CIA spy planes discovered that the Soviets had installed nuclear-tipped missiles in Cuba. Kennedy went to the American people and resolutely demanded that the Soviets withdraw the missiles, imposing a naval "quarantine" on the island and massing troops and planes in southern Florida for possible airstrikes or an invasion. Behind the scenes, Kennedy's brother Robert negotiated a deal to allow the Soviets to back down while saving face. In return for the Soviets' pulling out their missiles, the Americans secretly agreed to pull out some older, less powerful missiles aimed at the Soviet Union from Turkey.

The way the Kennedys played the Cuban missile crisis in public is deeply revealing of the power of Munich analogy—and later, the Vietnam analogy. After the crisis subsided in the fall of 1962, Kennedy arranged to have leaked to two friendly newsmen, Charles Bartlett and Stewart Alsop, the "inside story" of the crisis. The White House version, quite unfairly, made a villain of U.N. Ambassador Adlai Stevenson, for allegedly counseling appeasement toward the Soviets. No mention was made of RFK's secret dealings with the Russian ambassador to remove the U.S. missiles from Turkey. In the cold-war atmosphere of the early '60s, that might have been seen as soft or weak. Bobby Kennedy, however, later wrote his own memoir of the crisis, "Thirteen Days," published posthumously in 1969, in which he broadly hinted at the secret deal. RFK had written the book with the 1968 campaign in mind. By then, RFK was no hawk. He wanted a negotiated peace in Vietnam, and thus he wanted the world to know he had negotiated a truce with the Soviets during the missile crisis.

History is sometimes written by the people who made it. But even politicians sometimes have their regrets when they paint with too broad a stroke. It is noteworthy that last week, President Bush, in an interview with The Times of London, expressed regret about using phrases like "bring them on" and "dead or alive" to describe Iraqi insurgents or Qaeda terrorists. He feared that America had been misunderstood and said, "I think that in retrospect I could have used a different tone, a different rhetoric."

There is a risk that, as Election Day 2008 approaches, voters will be fooled or swept away by the clichés about Munich and Vietnam. In the reality of power, presidents generally realize that the choice between negotiation and force is rarely clear-cut or either-or. It can be hard to tell what either McCain or Obama would do if they were actually to take on the burdens and responsibilities of the presidency. But most voters know what, more than any other quality—more than tough talk or promises of conciliation—they are looking for in a president: good judgment.

© 2008