The world came closest to nuclear war during the Cuban Missile Crisis. We find that there existed two paths by which nuclear war might have occurred. The first path involves unrestrained hard-liners. Nuclear weapons did not deter some actors from proposing escalatory actions, including the use of nuclear weapons. Luckily, both Kennedy and Khrushchev reined in their respective hard-liners. Along the second path, situations – not known at the time – could have led to an initial use of nuclear weapons, after which events might have spiraled out of control. The US, for example, did not know that the Soviets had placed tactical nuclear weapons in Cuba. If the US had tried to invade Cuba to topple Castro – as some people advocated – then the Soviets might have used the weapons. Ultimately, Kennedy successfully used a quarantine and threatened force to compel the Soviets to withdraw their missiles from Cuba. The threat of nuclear war lingered behind these actions. In the end, however, the crisis ended not because of nuclear deterrence but rather because both sides reached a mutually acceptable bargain. Kennedy promised not to invade Cuba and to remove US missiles from Turkey; Khrushchev, meanwhile, agreed to remove Soviet missiles from Cuba.

The 1948 Berlin Blockade did not escalate to war, largely because Truman and Stalin did not want another world war so soon. Atomic weapons played no obvious role. The fear of atomic weapons did not deter Stalin – who lacked such weapons – from initiating the crisis. They also played no role in ending the crisis, since Truman made no explicit threat to use them. Instead, the airlift defeated the blockade, and Stalin ended the crisis. In contrast, nuclear weapons played a clearer role in the 1958–1962 Berlin Crisis. Both sides now had a second-strike capability, but that deterred neither Khrushchev from initiating the crisis nor Kennedy from considering nuclear war. Nevertheless, the possibility of a nuclear war made each leader more prudent. As the crisis evolved, large numbers of East Germans started crossing into West Berlin. Ulbricht, the leader of East Germany, pleaded with Khrushchev to do something. Khrushchev permitted the construction of a wall (although Kennedy may have signaled his non-opposition). This ended the refugee flow and, therefore, the immediate crisis. The Berlin Crises intensified the Cold War. They led to the formation of NATO and the Warsaw Pact, as well as the division of Germany into two states.

This chapter traces the history of Roman Catholicism in American politics and society, beginning with an overview of the tenets of the Catholic faith. The chapter then discusses historic tensions and division between Protestants and Catholics, tracing patterns of assimilation and eventual acceptance of Catholicism into American civil religion.

Both Saigon and Washington have Catholic presidents from 1961 to 1963. American Catholic support for the Diem regime remains strong, but the Kennedy administration begins to have serious doubts about its ally. As relations between the Saigon government and political Buddhists worsen, those doubts intensify. The administration approves a coup that topples and kills Diem. Meanwhile, the Second Vatican Council begins its historic work in Rome.

The politics of Vietnam was born in the early Cold War when Republicans made a concerted effort to undercut the national security advantage that Democrats enjoyed after a decisive victory in World War II. The years after the war are often remembered as a period when politics stopped at the water’s edge. Nothing could be further from the truth. Although there were a number of factors that moved the US military deep into the jungles of Vietnam, including a “domino theory” positing that if one country fell to communism everything around it would follow, partisan politics was a driving force behind this disastrous strategy. The same political logic and prowess that led President Lyndon Johnson to strengthen the legislative coalition behind his Great Society simultaneously pushed him into a hawkish posture in Southeast Asia.

Chapter 3 explains that Ho Chi Minh insisted on respecting the basic terms of the Geneva accords even as it became obvious that the rival regime headed by Ngo Dinh Diem in Saigon had no intention of doing the same. Ho’s passivity in the face of Diem’s actions shocked and dismayed some of his own followers, especially in the South. In 1959, Hanoi finally sanctioned insurgent activity below the Seventeenth Parallel, but under restricting guidelines because Ho feared provoking US intervention. His tentativeness alienated growing segments of partisans, including Le Duan, a rising star in the communist ranks. By 1963, the tension between Ho and other “doves,” on the one hand, and Le Duan and other “hawks,” who favored all-out war to “liberate” the South, on the other, had split the Vietnamese communist movement into two competing, rival wings. Following Diem’s overthrow in a coup abetted by the United States in early November 1963, Le Duan and his chief lieutenants staged a coup of their own in Hanoi. The new regime at once escalated hostilities in the South, resuming the Fourth Civil War for Vietnam and setting Hanoi on an irreversible collision course with the United States.

This chapter examines some of the ways in which Lowell’s poetry engages with the US presidency and with the legacies of individual presidents. With the exception of John F. Kennedy, Lowell was critical of those who held office during his lifetime – and even his feelings about Kennedy were ambivalent. However, Lowell – himself from political stock – also felt an affinity with those in power. His poetry, especially in History, documents his own forays into the public world of campaigning and specifically his relationships with Eugene McCarthy and Robert Kennedy. Through its simultaneous expressions of fascination and revulsion when it comes to the exercise of power, Lowell’s poetry also confronts some of the moral conundrums of American history. The essay concludes with a brief discussion of presidential speech-making and what this might have to do with lyric poetry.

Economic and political unrest in 1960 brought American opinions of the shah’s government to their lowest ebb, pushing the shah to appoint ‘Ali Amini, a pro-American development advocate and modernizer, as prime minister. Reformers in the Kennedy administration hoped that Amini and Iran’s young economists would usher in a new program, the Third Plan, that would steady the country’s economy while moving the shah away from dominating the political scene. The shah, however, outmaneuvered Amini and sidelined the economists, launching his own reform program, the White Revolution. By 1964, the shah had consolidated his position while the influx of oil revenues resolved the economic crisis. At the same time, the US government abandoned the idea of foreign-backed development in Iran, surrendering to a new narrative of the shah as a “revolutionary monarch” who could stabilize the country.

Sunzi was a household name by the 1980s and continued to establish itself in the popular imagination in the decades that followed. It was quoted and referred to in movies and television shows without explanation. Outside academic debates as to the universality of Sunzi as a work of strategy, it clearly symbolized the use of strategy for many people. While anyone could mention Sunzi to signal their interest in strategy, serious students of strategy put Sunzi together with Clausewitz to claim to know strategy from A to Z. Robert Asprey actively promoted Sunzi within military circles, both out of conviction of its value and because of his friendship with Samuel Griffith. John Boyd, a retired air force officer, developed his own approach to strategy that was influential mostly in the Marine Corps. Some of his supporters have called Boyd “the greatest strategist since Sunzi.”

The 1958 Middle East crisis led to a change in the relations between the United States and Israel. The Eisenhower administration looked at Israel as a strategic ally in a region that fell under the sway of the Soviet Union. Hesitantly, the seeds for strategic cooperation between the two nations were being sown. The deepening strategic ties between the two nations led the American recognition that the Arab–Israeli conflict was conflated with the Cold War. Consequently, the United States recognized that Israel needed arms in order to maintain its strength whilst facing an Arab military challenge due to the Soviet military support for the Arab states. In a gradual process that began with President Eisenhower and culminated with President Lyndon Johnson, the United States became Israel’s main arm supplier. The 1967 June War further deepened the attachment between the two nations. Evangelicals cherished what they saw as the fulfilment of the prophecies about the restoration of the Jewish state, and the American people and politicians viewed the Israeli victory as additional proof of the Israelis’ high spirit and capabilities, especially when compared to the failing war in Vietnam. For Israel, which came to control more territories, the war provided an additional opportunity to deliver its messages to the United States through tourism diplomacy. The war also forced Israel to contemplate its place in the Middle East, with peace becoming a more plausible option.

In 1973, Norman Mailer published Marilyn, a biographical profile meant to be a 20,000-word piece, but which Mailer expanded to over 100,000 words after becoming deeply fascinated with Monroe during the writing process. Marilyn would remain such a fixture in Mailer’s mind that he would also compose a fictional account of her life, 1980’s Of Women and Their Elegance, and would turn this into a play, Strawhead, which was performed at The Actor’s Studio in 1986. This chapter explores Mailer’s fascination with Monroe, which likely arises from the various ways in which aspects of his life so closely resemble those of his subject. Like Marilyn, Mailer struggled with a controversial public image that threatened to overshadow his craft and at times led to misunderstandings and reductive assumptions about his personal character.

In 1960, Mailer published his famous essay on JFK, “Superman Comes to the Supermarket,” a defining and significant contribution to New Journalism. The essay frames JFK as a kind of existential hero and a beacon of hope for America’s future, and is representative of the lasting influence Kennedy had on Mailer’s political views and conceptions of America, the American Dream, and American masculinity. Much of The Presidential Papers, a miscellany of writings published in 1964, is also devoted to the Kennedys, and the figure of JFK haunts more than one of Mailer’s later works as well.

Chapter 6 assesses the ambassadorship of Henry Cabot Lodge II, chosen by President John F. Kennedy to lead Embassy Saigon at the height of the 1963 "Buddhist crisis." South Vietnamese President Ngo Dinh Diem's crackdown on Buddhist demonstrators had alarmed American public opinion, and Lodge decided shortly after taking up his duties that Diem had to go. This view ran counter to that of every senior administration figure - Secretary of State Dean Rusk, Defense Secretary Robert McNamara, CIA Director John McCone, Vice President Lyndon Johnson, and Attorney General Robert Kennedy - all of whom believed that Diem, despite his flaws, was preferable to any alternative and ought to be supported. General Paul Harkins, Lodge's military counterpart in Saigon, likewise felt that Washington should stand by Diem. Lodge prevailed over this opposition through a campaign of secrecy, misinformation, and repeated disobedience. He formed ties with rebel generals and promised them U.S. backing if they overthrew Diem, a policy no one in the White House or State Department had approved. He withheld information about coup plots from his superiors. He refused to follow orders from Rusk to meet with Diem and resolve the situation diplomatically. Diem's deposal and murder were in great part Lodge's doing. However distasteful, that outcome gave America a fresh start in Vietnam.

In many respects, as he confessed later in life, McNamara’s mistakes were mistakes of omission not commission. They were mistakes nonetheless. His mistakes raise important counterfactual questions. What if McNamara had inherited another model for civil-military relations? What if the State Department had been stronger? Could a counterinsurgency strategy have worked in South Vietnam? Could different funding arrangements in Washington have produced different outcomes? What if Johnson had been less of a New Dealer? What if McNamara had defined “loyalty” differently? What would President Kennedy have done?

The book provides a reassessment of Robert S. McNamara’s decisions during the Vietnam War. It situates him at the end of a historical process for the Office of the Secretary of Defense (OSD), a young agency that was still in flux and trying to define the proper balance between civilian and military advisors. McNamara’s concern for economic issues meant he resisted international commitments, in Vietnam and elsewhere. His idiosyncratic views on loyalty led him to self-censor and adopt public positions that were at odds with his private views. He ultimately became the spokesperson for a war that he had resisted. The book has benefited from a host of new sources, including McNamara’s papers at the Library of Congress, recently declassified Defense Department materials and the private diaries of his assistant for International Security Affairs, John T. McNaughton.

Roger Hilsman and Robert Thompson prepared plans for Vietnam that counterbalanced the increasing pressure to deploy troops. Thompson had a great influence on McNamara. He informed the Secretary’s frustrations with the US mission’s inability to coordinate existing programs and with the Chiefs’ focus on conventional tools. By July, McNamara instructed the Chiefs to prepare a phaseout plan for US advisors in Vietnam, which was called the Comprehensive Plan for South Vietnam (CPSVN). It was designed to train the South Vietnamese to fight the communist insurgency themselves. Growing unrest in South Vietnam did not dampen these plans; instead, they accelerated. A phaseout brought order to existing programs and promised to secure their long-term funding.

McNamara moved more forcefully than any of his predecessors in implementing civilian control over the military, with a contemptuous and domineering attitude toward the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS). His most important managerial innovations were designed to enforce “subjective control,” namely to impose civilian objectives and ideas on the military. The Draft Presidential Memoranda (DPMs) and the Planning, Programming and Budgeting System (PPBS) were designed to align military tools to civilian-defined foreign and economic policies. He worked closely with Secretary of State Dean Rusk to align military tools to the President’s foreign policy and with Secretary of the Treasury C. Douglas Dillon to ensure the Defense Department’s programs fit within a framework of fiscal discipline.