Tag: lyndon johnson
Nixon Agonistes — His Tainted Legacy Still Overshadows The Nation

Nixon Agonistes — His Tainted Legacy Still Overshadows The Nation

By Laura Malt Schneiderman, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (TNS)

One Man Against the World: The Tragedy of Richard Nixon by Tim Weiner; Henry Holt and Co. (384 pages, $30)

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The conventional wisdom among Nixon apologists is that the Watergate scandal has been overblown, that the crimes were those that had been committed by other presidents, too, and that Richard Nixon was a great man who did great things. And this certainly would be the judgment that Nixon wanted history to have of him.

But as Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times reporter Tim Weiner expertly shows in One Man Against the World: The Tragedy of Richard Nixon, the late president was an aberration, and his deeds nearly destroyed the country. His chief legacy is not the opening of communist China, but a pattern of presidential abuse of power from which our country is still recovering.

Most books about Nixon suffer from a lack of perspective. Because Nixon wiretapped his own offices and (illegally) those of other people, and his aides took copious notes of conversations, there are reams of documentation of what happened during his administration. Because of this, it is easy to become mired in the details of the Nixon presidency.

Weiner slices through these disparate elements, pulling in only the threads that advance the telling of Nixon’s story. This includes some material that was only declassified last year.

Weiner also avoids the trap of dwelling on the president’s background, noting only how Nixon’s personality — the ruthlessness, the ambition, the political instinct and the amorality — was revealed in his formative years.

Near the beginning of the book, the 1968 presidential election looms into view. Democratic President Lyndon Johnson, his administration undone by the Vietnam War quagmire, had announced he would not seek re-election.

His vice president, Hubert Humphrey, was running on the Democratic ticket, hobbled by his loyalty to Johnson and the hatred that the anti-war left bore him. Nixon, the Republican, knew that any peace breakthroughs in Vietnam would hurt his chances for victory.

So Nixon committed what could arguably be considered an act of treason: As Johnson tried to bring the Vietnam parties to the negotiating table, Nixon secretly contacted the president of the corrupt puppet state of South Vietnam and got the South Vietnamese government to oppose any peace negotiations while Johnson was president.

They thought they would get a better deal with staunch anti-communist Nixon in power. Nixon led them to believe this. Johnson found out Nixon’s deeds via intercepted cables and phone calls to and from the South Vietnamese, but he quailed at taking this information public given that it came from spying on American allies.

Humphrey lost the election, and the Republicans took note of the lessons learned from Nixon’s behavior: first, that Nixon’s gambit may have provided the margin of victory and, second, that he had gotten away with it. Nixon would remember those lessons, Weiner notes.

Once in office, Nixon was determined to win the Vietnam War, or at least to have America leave the war “with peace and honor.” To that end, he ordered unprecedented secret bombings of neutral Laos and Cambodia, where the North Vietnamese had bases, bombing on a scale unseen during World War II, even during the atomic bombing of Japan.

He kept his own Cabinet in the dark, conferring only with three of his most trusted aides, and even they did not know all of his secrets. Although he denied it, he sold ambassadorships to the highest contributors in his election campaigns, the ambassadorship to Greece being a particularly egregious example.

As the 1972 election loomed, Nixon ordered massive secret bombing of North Vietnam’s civilian centers to bring the country to its knees. To appease anti-war sentiment at home, Nixon tried the “Vietnamization” of the war — having the South Vietnamese fight instead of American soldiers. But when the South Vietnamese showed little will to fight, Nixon lied to a national television audience, telling the country that “Vietnamization has succeeded.”

Weiner shows in many ways how Nixon conflated his political fortunes with the nation’s interests. For instance, he threw U.S. support behind Pakistan during that country’s war with India because the corrupt and brutal leader of Pakistan had helped Nixon arrange his visit to communist China, and because Nixon personally hated Indians.

He also misused the FBI, the CIA, and the IRS to quash his enemies and any moves against him. Perhaps the worst example of Nixon’s hubris is how he felt about the so-called “Silent Majority,” the people who had voted him into office and supported him during his presidency: “The American people are suckers,” he said. “Gray Middle America — they’re suckers.”

One Man Against the World is studded with gems. But perhaps its best part is the accounting of what Nixon has wrought in this country. Much of the apathy and cynicism, the lack of respect for the office of the president and the distrust of government can be laid at his feet. And then there are the presidents who came after Nixon. It seems that the lessons of Watergate have not been what to avoid, but rather, how much can be gotten away with.

(c)2015 Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

Weekend Reader: ‘The Fierce Urgency Of Now: Lyndon Johnson, Congress, And The Battle For The Great Society’

Weekend Reader: ‘The Fierce Urgency Of Now: Lyndon Johnson, Congress, And The Battle For The Great Society’

As the 114th Congress kicks into gear — or at least into the fitful, ineffective circus of obstruction to which we have become accustomed — it can be edifying to recall an era when it was possible for the legislative branch to enact ambitious progressive change.

Julian E. Zelizer’s The Fierce Urgency of Now: Lyndon Johnson, Congress, and the Battle for the Great Society explores the so-called “liberal hour,” which saw the passage of an astonishing number of transformative policies in civil rights, education, immigration, health care, social aid, and more — collectively referred to as The Great Society. Among the successes recounted in the book is the turbulent triumph of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 — recently dramatized in the film Selma, where its alleged diminution of Lyndon Johnson’s role in the bill’s passage has come under fire. But rather than lionize Johnson or the “Fabulous Eighty-Ninth Congress,” Zelizer’s narrative is a lucid, rousing drama of realpolitik, the complex interplay of agendas at play, and the mechanics of political grand strategy, negotiation, and compromise.

The following excerpt shows Johnson, in the very first hours of his administration, determined to pass a sweeping program of social advances through a Congress that Zelizer describes as a “graveyard of liberal legislation.” 

You can purchase the book here.

Lyndon Johnson hated being vice president. He was at heart a legislator who had been relegated to the sidelines of legislation. For almost three years he had watched John F. Kennedy fumble most of the big domestic issues of the day, either because the president was unwilling to take on the toughest challenges of the moment, or because he was too afraid of the political fallout, or because he knew he lacked the ability to win the legislative battles he faced on Capitol Hill. At the time of Kennedy’s death, most of his major domestic initiatives—including civil rights, a tax cut, federal assistance for education, and hospital insurance for the elderly—were stalled in Congress or had not yet been introduced there. Kennedy and his advisers had made a conscious decision to keep Lyndon Johnson out of their inner circle, despite his extensive experience on Capitol Hill, for fear that his well-known thirst for power would cause problems for the president.

At 4:00 a.m. on November 23, 1963, the day after Kennedy’s assassination gave him the presidency, Johnson reclined on his bed, his top advisers arrayed around him for an impromptu meeting. He mapped out a grand vision for his team. The new president told Jack Valenti, Bill Moyers, and Cliff Carter, with “relish and resolve,” according to Valenti, “I’m going to get Kennedy’s tax cut out of the Senate Finance Committee, and we’re going to get this economy humming again. Then I’m going to pass Kennedy’s civil rights bill, which has been hung up too long in the Congress. And I’m going to pass it without changing a single comma or a word. After that we’ll pass legislation that allows everyone anywhere in this country to vote, with all the barriers down. And that’s not all. We’re going to get a law that says every boy and girl in this country, no matter how poor, or the color of their skin, or the region they come from, is going to be able to get all the education they can take by loan, scholarship, or grant, right from the federal government.” After pausing to catch his breath, almost as if exhausted by his own ambitions, the president concluded, “And I aim to pass Harry Truman’s medical insurance bill that got nowhere before.”

Jack Valenti’s recollection of that moment perfectly portrays the Lyndon Johnson who had suddenly become the nation’s leader. He was a creature of Congress, a legislator by character and long experience, who was determined to push through a transformative body of laws that would constitute nothing less than a second New Deal.

Though many liberals had long doubted that Johnson was anything but a southern racist conservative who sometimes pretended to be one of them, he was, when he became president of the United States, truly determined to expand the role of the federal government in domestic life far beyond what his hero Franklin Roosevelt had accomplished. Johnson had started in politics as a New Deal liberal, and over the years he had grown ever more determined to deal with issues FDR had ignored and on which Johnson himself had been ambivalent at best during his own political career, most notably civil rights and health care. He wanted to use the presidency to build legislative majorities behind the ideas that liberals had been discussing and deliberating—but not enacting into law—for more than a decade.

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Lyndon Johnson’s vision of a presidency that would spearhead major liberal legislation faced enormous obstacles, however. Historians have often failed to understand how the Great Society—President Johnson’s agenda of big domestic programs—was enacted, because they have accepted two myths about the nature of the political challenges the Great Society had to face.
The first myth presents the 1960s as the apex of modern American liberalism, the culmination of those forces that arose in the Progressive Era at the turn of the twentieth century when the federal government came to be seen as a positive good, when social movements leaned toward the left, and when conservatives were marginal and irrelevant.

A recent generation of historians has shattered this portrait of the liberal era in politics. They have rediscovered the enormous influence of conservative activists, philanthropists, organizations, and politicians in the decades that directly followed the New Deal. Shifting attention away from the White House and toward the U.S. Congress is one of the most effective ways to gain a very different perspective on the dynamics of American politics before the age of Reagan. Though many of the nation’s presidents had embraced liberal ideas, Congress was a powerful institution dominated by a conservative coalition of southern Democrats and Republicans who rejected liberalism. During the 1930s, as the political scientist Ira Katznelson has shown, FDR was already forced to compromise his New Deal to appease southern Democrats and Republicans by agreeing to federal legislation that protected the racial order of Dixie and made it difficult for organized labor to gain a foothold in that low-wage nonunion region.

After the 1930s, Congress was a graveyard of liberal legislation. At the time of President Kennedy’s death, the record for liberal reform was meager. The spirit of the New Deal seemed a distant memory. It had been two and a half decades since any significant social legislation had been passed. President Truman lacked the skills of his predecessor, and he spent much of his political capital advancing the nation’s involvement in the cold war. Congressional conservatives killed most of his marquee domestic proposals, including national health care, and even turned back one of the hallmark achievements of the New Deal, the Wagner Act, which had guaranteed the right of workers to organize into unions and created the National Labor Relations Board to supervise union elections, by passing the 1947 Taft-Hartley Act, which allowed states to enact “right to work” laws that made it more difficult for unions to organize workers. The Republican president Dwight Eisenhower, though he accepted the permanence of the New Deal, had limited domestic policy aims and spent much of his second term pushing back against liberal Democrats in Congress who were demanding that the government do more, and spend more, to tackle social problems. President Kennedy, a hard-nosed pragmatist who continually rebuffed liberals who he believed had unrealistic expectations of what could be accomplished through legislation, saw his fears confirmed when he was soundly throttled by the conservatives in Congress on a number of proposals. As Kennedy pointed out in an interview in 1962, “I think the Congress looks more powerful sitting here than it did when I was there in the Congress.”

If you enjoyed this excerpt, purchase the full book here.

Excerpt from The Fierce Urgency of Now: Lyndon Johnson, Congress, and the Battle for the Great Society by Julian Zelizer. Reprinted by arrangement with The Penguin Press, a member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC, A Penguin Random House Company. Copyright © Julian Zelizer, 2015.

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LBJ’s Civil Rights Act Irrevocably Changed U.S. Landscape

LBJ’s Civil Rights Act Irrevocably Changed U.S. Landscape

Last week, President Obama and civil rights luminaries went to the Lyndon B. Johnson Presidential Library to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Civil Rights Act. That legislation, signed in July 1964, was a stunning achievement, a herald of a dramatic transformation in the nation’s social and cultural landscape.

Yet the anniversary comes at a confusing moment in America’s racial journey. While a generation is growing up associating presidential power with a black man, evidence of a pernicious, race-infused backlash is inescapable. And bigotry played a role in the unjust shootings of two young black men, Trayvon Martin and Jordan Davis, who were almost certainly victims of racial profiling.

Few suggest, anymore, that the election of President Obama is evidence of a “post-racial” America in which no one notices skin color or takes into account racial and ethnic heritage. In fact, Obama’s rise has fueled the fears and hatred of a small but vocal minority who believe their America — a country run by and for white heterosexual Christians — is disappearing. If you think I’m exaggerating, just read Pat Buchanan’s 2011 screed, Suicide of a Superpower: Will America Survive to 2025?

It is easy enough to be pessimistic. Harvard political scientist Robert Putnam, who has conducted research on diverse communities, told me he was surprised that Obama’s election had seemed to revive racism rather than quelling it. That revival plays itself out quite vividly in our national politics, where a retrograde faction of the Republican Party dedicates itself to the notion that, if racism still exists, white people are its victims.

Still, it would be foolishly myopic to argue that little has changed in the half-century since President Johnson arm-twisted the Civil Rights Act into history. I’m old enough to remember a landscape that was much more hostile to black Americans, that conspired to limit us in ways too myriad to count. Black and brown millennials don’t know what it means to be refused service in a restaurant, to be shoved to the back to the bus, to be turned away at a hotel because of skin color, to be ushered to a separate (and often filthy) restroom. And their white counterparts would rightly find such policies absurd.

The America that elected Obama is a very different place from the nation over which Johnson presided. Not only do black Americans eat in any restaurant they can afford, but they also star as celebrity chefs on TV. Black men and women preside over corporate boardrooms, head major non-profit institutions and reign as single-name cultural icons.

Yes, there are still major disparities in health and wealth, incarceration rates and even school suspensions. Much work remains before full equality is more than a distant mountain peak. But we ought to be able to discuss the road ahead without pretending that we’ve not made any progress at all. To do that would be to disparage the work of our civil rights heroes and to deny ourselves the inspiration we need to keep plodding along.

Besides, pessimism breeds defeat. It infects its victims with a self-limiting lethargy that fails to take big risks, to reach for the skies, to dream big dreams.

Last month, for example, USA Today profiled high-school senior Kwasi Enin, a first-generation Ghanaian-American who was accepted by all eight Ivy League colleges, an extremely rare accomplishment. Enin has a lot on the ball, but the fact that his parents, as immigrants, likely focused on America’s opportunities — not its race-based limitations — undoubtedly played a role in his remarkable story. That didn’t shield him from any racism prompted by the color of his skin, but it certainly gave him the confidence and the gumption to think he could succeed.

A half-century after Johnson pushed through a law that helped to transform a nation, racism is hardly dead. But it’s a shadow of its former self, a limited force no longer able to define the lives of the nation’s citizens of color. That’s change we can believe in.

(Cynthia Tucker, winner of the 2007 Pulitzer Prize for commentary, is a visiting professor at the University of Georgia. She can be reached at cynthia@cynthiatucker.com.)

AFP Photo/Brendan Smialowski

At Civil Rights Act Event, Obama Praises Johnson For His Vision

At Civil Rights Act Event, Obama Praises Johnson For His Vision

By Christi Parsons and Kathleen Hennessey, Tribune Washington Bureau

AUSTIN, Texas — President Barack Obama said Thursday that the country was still caught up in the kind of debates that marked the civil rights movement as he called on Americans to set aside cynicism and push for the ideals reflected in the Civil Rights Act.

As he offered a tribute to President Lyndon Johnson at a 50th anniversary celebration of the law, Obama recalled the political gridlock and ideological division Johnson faced — and overcame.

“If some of this sounds familiar, it’s because today we’ve become locked in the same great debate, about equality and opportunity, and the role of government in ensuring each,” Obama said.

“Our society is still wracked with division and poverty,” he said, adding that “it’s easy to conclude that there are limits to change … that politics is a fool’s errand.”

“I reject such thinking,” he said. “I have lived out the promise of LBJ’s efforts. … Because of the civil rights movement, because of the laws that LBJ signed, new doors of opportunity swung open. … They swung open for you and they swung open for me, and I’m standing here because of it.”

As Obama recounted the fights over Johnson’s Great Society programs, his address turned into a meditation on his own role in history.

In his keynote, Obama examined that question in a personal way, talking about Johnson’s mastery of the legislative process and his own frustrations in dealing with lawmakers.

“Sometimes you’re stymied. The office humbles you,” Obama said. “You’re reminded daily that in this great democracy you are but a relay swimmer in the currents of history.”

But he spoke hopefully about the power to “bend those currents … by shaping our laws and by shaping our debates.”

It is possible to achieve change by working “within the confines of our world as it is, but also by reimagining our world as it should be,” Obama said. “This was President Johnson’s genius.”

Five years into the presidency, Obama had mostly left Johnson unmentioned until the summit marking the anniversary of the civil rights laws that changed the face of America.

Advisers close to the president have bristled at comparisons between Johnson, a master at working Capitol Hill, and Obama, who openly admits that pretty much anything he supports is doomed in the divided Congress.

Civil rights veterans and historians have debated that Johnson-Obama comparison on the sidelines of the summit this week.

In Obama’s defense, scholars note that, in passing civil and voting rights bills, Johnson benefited from an increasingly powerful social movement and the growing consensus around racial equality.

“By the early 1960s, there was a moral consensus on what needed to be done on civil rights,” said H.W. Brands, a presidential historian at the University of Texas at Austin.

Thus, some veterans of the civil rights movement say Obama deserves more leeway in the analysis. Obama faces opposition that views him as “other,” said Julian Bond, an early organizer of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee and a prominent civil rights leader.

Johnson, tasked with forging a coalition of moderate Republicans and Northern Democrats, “never faced anything like this, even when he was dealing with his most passionate opponents,” said Bond, now a professor at American University and the University of Virginia.

And even Johnson saw the limits of his powers of persuasion. In the 1966 midterms, Democrats lost seats in Congress and Johnson began to feel backlash from lawmakers he had successfully won over, particularly when it came to funding the Great Society programs he had gotten passed.

But in his remarks to the summit Wednesday night, former President Bill Clinton praised political courage that outlasts political capital.

“That is often the case with big votes that change millions of lives,” Clinton said. “I’ve had my fair share of tough phone calls to good people who lost their seats after we won this or that big measure by just a vote or two in the House or the Senate.”

AFP Photo/Saul Loeb