Monday, Aug. 22, 1983
How to Do Nothing Well
By Hugh Sidey
In a way, the great power game being played around the globe is made to order for an actor. The object is to do nothing for real.
John Kennedy once pointed that out. He reviewed the Atlantic Fleet in 1962 from behind a huge windscreen on the bow of the heavy cruiser Northampton as it steamed between two columns of hulking warships. The crew of each ship lined the deck and fired a salute as it surged by Kennedy.
He was profoundly affected by the event, and he mused about it for weeks. "I felt like Teddy Roosevelt," he joked. But on further reflection, he came to an important realization. "What do you do with all those ships?" he asked himself, then answered his own question: "If you are smart, nothing." Exactly.
Twice in the past four decades we miscalculated, and we had war in Korea and Viet Nam. The worry now is whether Ronald Reagan can perceive the fine line between drama and reality.
Displaying military power, with all its bands and thunder, can become dangerously addictive. And dispatching battle units can begin to look like the cleanest, easiest exercise of power that a President can undertake. The ships and planes are magnificent machines, the crews totally responsive. Orders are instantly carried out, unlike those given in the glutenous world of Government.
Sometimes the moment of command is unforgettable, its recollection stirring. Lyndon Johnson told and retold the story of standing in the White House situation room and ordering Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara to send the Sixth Fleet toward the warring Middle East in 1967 to protect American interests. During such retellings, Johnson acted as if he could feel the great hulls shudder and begin to wheel around after he spoke a few quiet words. Oh what a lovely war.
But when Johnson played the same part in Viet Nam, he produced a tragedy.
Presidential commands produced casualties. The bands were off-key. Bluster was meaningless in that jungle. Theater verite.
Yet those who would opt only for prayer and stickless diplomacy are of just as much concern as Reagan. For instance, Senator Edward Kennedy wants to have Congress order Reagan to keep the fleet from maneuvering in Central American waters: an idea that is probably as unconstitutional as it is bad.
His view of history is very dim. John Kennedy back in 1961 loaded up the Marines and primed the Navy's airplanes and sent the Seventh Fleet into the South China Sea to hunker near Laos and impress the Communist Pathet Lao, which was gobbling up the country with Moscow's encouragement. The Marines never got into combat, but the display of force helped bring some allies to our side and finally produce a vague standoff in the battle.
The same year, after the Berlin Wall went up and the Soviets interfered with access to West Berlin, President Kennedy once more turned to a military display. He ordered 1,500 troops of the U.S. 8th Division to form a battle group and drive in armored trucks 110 miles through East Germany along the Helmstedt-Berlin autobahn. Critics called the move too provocative. Kennedy believed it a crucial symbol of his determination. The battle group made an uninterrupted journey and was effusively greeted in Berlin by Vice President Lyndon Johnson.
There is no sure script written for the leading man in this continuing drama. But when a President begins to fancy the marching bands too much, he had better go to a prayer meeting or two.
Then, about the time he is convinced that meditation in hushed sanctuaries can solve the world's problems, as Jimmy Carter once believed, the President had better get back to the parade ground and relish the martial strains of The Stars and Stripes Forever.
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