Monday, May. 13, 1974

Vienna: Politics Without Mercy

For the 1960 U.S. Democratic presidential nomination, Khrushchev's personal choice was Adlai Stevenson; but when John F. Kennedy received it, Khrushchev decided to support him over Richard Nixon.

The Americans are very good at making you think a huge struggle over major issues is under way, a struggle which will determine whether the United States will continue to exist or not. But in essence the battle between the Democrats and Republicans is like a circus wrestling match. The wrestlers arrange in advance who will be the winner and who will be the loser--before they even enter the arena. Of course, I'm not saying that the outcome of an American election is actually prearranged by the two candidates, but they're both representatives of the capitalist circles which nominated them; and everyone knows that the foundation of capitalism will not be shaken, regardless of which candidate is elected.

Still, once the Republicans had nominated Nixon and the Democrats had nominated Kennedy, we had to make a choice in our own minds. We thought we would have more hope of improving Soviet-American relations if John Kennedy were in the White House. We knew we couldn't count on Nixon in this regard: his aggressive attitude toward the Soviet Union, his antiCommunism, his connection with McCarthyism--all this was well known to us. In short, we had no reason to welcome the prospect of Nixon as President.

In the heat of the campaign, just before Election Day, the United States addressed itself to us, officially asking for the release of [U-2 Pilot] Francis Gary Powers. The timing of Powers' release had great political significance. At that time, voices in the press were saying that whichever candidate could show himself more able to improve Soviet-American relations stood a better chance in the election. In fact, they weren't just talking about America's relations with the Soviet Union, but with me, personally --by name. That's typical of the bourgeois press: it always plays up the individual leader.

During the campaign, Khrushchev recalls, Nixon's running mate, Henry Cabot Lodge, visited Moscow and told the Soviet leader: "Mr. Khrushchev, don't pay any attention to the campaign speeches. Remember, they 're just political statements. Once Mr. Nixon is in the White House, I'm sure he'll take a position of preserving and perhaps even improving our relations. " Khrushchev, however, did not believe that Nixon would do so. Thus he argued to the Kremlin leadership that they should not release Powers until after the election lest it seem that the Russians were favoring the Republicans.

My comrades agreed, and we did not release Powers. As it turned out, we'd done the right thing. Kennedy won the election by a majority of only two hundred thousand or so votes, a negligible margin if you consider the huge population of the United States. The slightest nudge either way would have been decisive.

So Eisenhower left the White House and Kennedy became President. Later, I felt I could joke with him about the election: "You know, Mr. Kennedy, we voted for you."

He looked and smiled. "How?"

"By waiting until after the election to return the pilot."

He laughed and said, "You're right. I admit you played a role in the election and cast your vote for me."

Of course, it was a joke, but it reflected the reality of the situation, and I must say I had no cause for regret once Kennedy became President. It quickly became clear he understood better than Eisenhower that an improvement in relations was the only rational course. Eisenhower had fully appreciated the danger of the cold war leading to a hot war; he'd told me more than once, "I'm afraid of war, Mr. Khrushchev."

Kennedy feared war too. He never told me in so many words, but he tried to establish closer contacts with the Soviet Union with an eye to reaching an agreement on disarmament and to avoiding any accidents which might set off a military conflict.

Kennedy was a flexible President and, unlike Eisenhower, he was his own boss in foreign policy. He hired bright, young, well-educated advisers who were equally flexible. He let us know he would like to meet with representatives of the Soviet Union.

We too wanted to establish contacts with Kennedy because we shared his fear of war. I certainly was afraid of war. Who but a fool isn't? That doesn't mean I think we should pay any price to avoid war. Certainly we shouldn't back down at the expense of our self-respect, our authority and our prestige in the world. On many occasions while I was head of the government we were confronted with the jealousy and aggressiveness of others toward our position, and we had to counterattack these forces. By counterattacking when we did, we won a number of significant moral victories. But these were victories in the cold war. We managed to avoid a hot war. Kennedy seemed committed to the same goal.

During our talks in Vienna [in June 1961], Kennedy recognized the need to avoid military conflict. He felt we should sign a formal agreement to the effect that we would adhere to principles of peaceful coexistence. But what he meant by peaceful coexistence was freezing existing conditions in all countries insofar as their social and political systems were concerned. Well, this concept was completely unacceptable to me, and I told him so.

"Mr. President, we too would like to come to an agreement with you on the principles of peaceful coexistence, but for us, that means agreeing not to use force in solving disputes and not to interfere in the internal affairs of other countries--it does not mean freezing the conditions which prevail in those countries today. The question of a country's sociopolitical system should be decided by that country itself. Some countries are still determining what sort of system is best for them, and we have no business freezing them into one form or another."

Kennedy wanted to maintain the status quo in the world. In other words, he wanted countries with capitalist systems to remain capitalist, and he wanted us to agree to a guarantee to that effect. This was absolutely unacceptable. I tried to make him see that his was a reactionary position.

Had John Kennedy realized the implications of the proposal he was making, I don't think he would have suggested freezing internal political systems. He was a highly intelligent President, but here he was defending his class and defending capitalist tradition --and he wanted us to be party to such a thing!

Frankly, I was somewhat surprised at him. I think even today the Americans still haven't given up the point of view Kennedy set forth to me. My belief is confirmed by the war which the United States has been waging in Viet Nam, Laos and Cambodia.

At one reception Kennedy introduced me to his wife and to his mother. Jacqueline, Kennedy's wife, was a young woman whom the journalists were always describing as a great beauty. She didn't impress me as having that special, brilliant beauty which can haunt men, but she was youthful, energetic and pleasant, and I liked her very much. She knew how to make jokes and was, as our people say, quick with her tongue. In other words, she had no trouble finding the right word to cut you short if you weren't careful with her. My own conversation with her consisted of nothing more than small talk, the sort you'd expect at receptions or during intermissions at the theater. But even in small talk she demonstrated her intelligence. As the head of the Soviet delegation, I couldn't care less what sort of wife

Kennedy had. If he liked her, that was his business--and good luck to them both. The same was the case with his mother. We knew she was a millionaire, and consequently we had to keep in mind whom we were dealing with at all times. We could smile courteously and shake hands with her, but that didn't change the fact that we were at opposite poles.

It was at one of these receptions or evenings at the theater [in Vienna] that I had my last meeting with Kennedy. I remember he looked not only anxious but deeply upset. I recall vividly the expression on his face. Looking at him, I couldn't help feeling a bit sorry and somewhat upset myself. I would have liked very much for us to part in a different mood. But there was nothing I could do to help him. The difference in our class positions had prevented us from coming to an agreement--despite all possible efforts on my part. Politics is a merciless business, but that realization did not keep me from feeling sorry for Kennedy.

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