Six Crises (40 page)

The ruling junta pleaded that we accept their luncheon invitation so they could make a public display of the cordiality the government felt toward me and my party. They gave us the strongest assurances that we could depend upon them to get us safely to the Maiquetia Airport. I accepted their invitation with some trepidation because I knew that the luncheon was to be held in the sumptuous Circulo Militar which was on the other side of Caracas from the Embassy.

Admiral Larrazabal and his colleagues came to the Embassy to escort us to the luncheon in a motorcade that looked like an invasion armada. Their black limousine was flanked by armored vehicles and twelve truckloads of battle-ready troops. We moved across town without incident. The luncheon was lavish and even by Latin American standards protracted far beyond my expectations. At three o'clock in the afternoon, I reminded my host that we were late for our scheduled departure. He nonetheless insisted on showing me through the plush military club. He guided me through every nook and cranny of the place, including the kitchens and quarters for the officers and the enlisted men. I kept looking at my watch and my patience was beginning to wear thin when finally at about 4:30 a Venezuelan Army colonel came up, saluted, and said, “All is ready.” Then I realized why the luncheon had been extended so deliberately. The Venezuelan authorities
intended to take us out of Caracas along the same streets by which we arrived so that they could show that they were capable of maintaining order.

If the government had been lax the day before, they were leaving nothing to chance on this day. Not only did we have the superabundant military escort but our own vehicles had become arsenals. On the floor of the car in which Admiral Larrazabal and I rode were submachine guns, revolvers, rifles, tear gas cannisters, and clips of spare ammunition. There was hardly room for our feet. As we sped through the streets, the city seemed deserted except for tanks or armored vehicles stationed at every intersection. I observed only four or five civilians during the entire ride and they were holding handkerchiefs to their noses. I thought at first that this might be another way of expressing an insult and then someone explained that at various points along the route tear gas had been used to clear the streets.

At the airport, Mrs. Nixon and I stood for a moment at the doorway of the plane waving the customary good-by. As I looked down on the empty terminal building, the Venezuelan government officials and the military force which had escorted us, I could not help but think, “When we had arrived, there had been no order and too much freedom in this capital of Venezuela; now when we leave, there is complete order and no freedom. Both situations are bad, and yet symbolic of the problems of so many of the Latin American nations.”

•  •  •

The White House had asked us to delay our arrival until the next morning, May 15, so that a welcoming reception could be arranged. Consequently, instead of flying directly to Washington, we stopped over at San Juan, Puerto Rico for the night. It was dusk when we landed in San Juan. There had not been time to give any advance notice of our arrival but Governor Munoz-Marin, his wife, and a large group of Puerto Rican officials gave us an enthusiastic welcome. The Governor rushed up the steps of the plane and gave me an
embraso
with the words, “You were magnificent in Lima and Caracas.” As his wife, Mrs. Munoz-Marin, kissed Mrs. Nixon, she said, “You are safe here. You are home now.”

By this time the radio reports had flashed the word of our arrival throughout the city and as we proceeded to the Governor's residence, the streets were filled with cheering spectators. We enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere of Munoz-Marin's hospitality after our rugged experiences of the last forty-eight hours.

In his conversation with me he urged that the United States Government
be patient and understanding during this period of transition for so many South American countries when they were throwing off the yoke of dictatorships. “My people,” he said, speaking of his Spanish background, “have many fine qualities. But the art of government has been one which at times has been most difficult for them to learn. They find it hard to maintain that elusive, delicate but all-important balance between order and freedom.” On the other hand, he urged that the United States Government, while following its traditional policy of non-intervention, be wary of giving the appearance of favoring dictatorships of the right or the left in Latin America. It all came back to the policy of a formal handshake for dictators and
embraso
for leaders of free countries which I was to propose thereafter in Washington.

•  •  •

Fifteen thousand people greeted us when we arrived at the National Airport the next morning. President Eisenhower put protocol aside to meet Mrs. Nixon and me at the airport. He was accompanied by the entire Cabinet. The Democratic as well as Republican leadership of Congress was there. Several large groups of Latin American students studying in the Washington area also were on hand, carrying placards of a very different nature from those we had seen. In my airport remarks, I tried to bring home the theme that for every unfriendly face we saw in Latin America we saw a thousand friendly ones.

After the welcoming ceremonies, Mrs. Nixon and I sat with the President in the back seat of his limousine and Tricia and Julie sat on the jump seats for a ride to the White House and a visit with Mrs. Eisenhower.

The ordeal of the trip was over, the trip I did not want to take because I thought it would be dull.

•  •  •

The story of the crisis of Caracas would not be complete without describing at least briefly the impact those events had on the nation, as well as on me personally.

This is not the place to discuss in detail the effect my trip had on U. S. policy toward Latin America. But while no one in his right mind would have “planned it that way,” the net effect of the violent episodes in Lima and Caracas was probably more beneficial than harmful, as far as long-range U. S. policy was concerned. The people and government of the United States have always had a tendency to take Latin America for granted. Cabot Lodge has often said that if it were not for the strong support we have had from the Latin American countries
on key votes in the United Nations, the United States might not be able to stay in the United Nations. Yet, since we could count on the support of Latin American countries, we have tended to direct the emphasis in our exchange, information, and foreign aid programs to so-called “neutral” countries in other parts of the world, whose support we could not count on and whom we were trying to woo.

Caracas was a much-needed shock treatment which jolted us out of dangerous complacency. For years special missions have returned from Latin America with recommendations that the United States pay more attention to our neighbors to the South. These reports have been given wide publicity in the press—for one day—and then filed away in the archives of the State Department. The Caracas crisis was so sharp and so dramatic that it could not be brushed away so easily. After Caracas, when those charged with responsibility for our Latin American policy in the State Department tried to get proper treatment for their proposals, they could and usually did point to what happened in Caracas and Lima as a warning that we could no longer get by with fancy words and little action in dealing with the problems of our neighbors to the South.

The recommendations I made on this subject when I returned to Washington were:

(1.) American government personnel abroad must do a more effective job of reaching the opinion-makers of Latin America. It is no longer enough simply to know and talk to top government officials and the elite among the financial and business communities. Students, teachers, newspaper editors, reporters, labor leaders—these are the people who are exerting massive influence in the Latin American countries, and we must find a way to get our story across to them more adequately. Person-to-person contact is the most effective way to accomplish this. USIA broadcasts and giving publicity to public statements by U.S. officials, are generally ineffective.

(2.) We must develop an economic program for Latin America which is distinctively its own. Latin Americans do not like to be classed like the undeveloped countries of Asia and Africa. They believe they are in a special position and are therefore entitled to special consideration, because of their geographical proximity to the United States, and their long record of friendship for this nation. There must be a new program for economic progress for the hemisphere.

(3.) We should not appear to give dictators, of either the right or the left, the same moral approval that we gave to leaders who were trying to build free and democratic institutions. But we must not go overboard the other way. Dictators leave a legacy of revolution. When
they are deposed, a vacuum is created. If this vacuum is not filled by strong government which can protect the newly-acquired freedoms of the people, another dictator will inevitably step in and take over.

(4.) We cannot expect that U.S.-style, democratic institutions will work without modifications in countries where the population has had no tradition or experience in self-government and is completely unprepared for such government in the form we have developed it in this country.

(5.) Economic progress is vitally important to Latin America. But economic progress alone will not stop Communist infiltration and takeover. Support of adequate military and security forces must continue so that free governments will have the strength to maintain stability and deal with subversive groups which may resort to force to overthrow the government.

(6.) The people of Latin America want to be on the right side, but they also want to be on the winning side. They respect courage, and they have nothing but contempt for policies which they consider too cautious or cowardly.

(7.) Above all, there must be a better recognition in the United States at all levels that it isn't how much aid we provide, but how we provide it that counts. The Latin Americans are a very proud people. We must show proper respect for their traditions, customs and culture.

Not all of these recommendations were implemented, and some of them found very little support in State Department circles. But I am confident they had a long-range effect which was beneficial.

•  •  •

But this is a story of crisis, primarily as it affects an individual, rather than government policy.

When a public figure becomes involved in a crisis of some magnitude, those around him rally to his support. If it is political, the diverse elements of his own political party coalesce behind him. When the crisis is of national or international significance, the people of the nation tend to rally behind him. This has been true throughout history of our wartime Presidents. It was demonstrated in the public support of President Truman when he unilaterally committed the United States to the police action in Korea, when President Eisenhower acknowledged responsibility for the U
-2
reconnaissance planes over the Soviet Union, and even when President Kennedy assumed responsibility for the abortive invasion of Cuba, admittedly one of the worst U. S. fiascoes in recent history. It is the crisis, itself, more than the merits of the engagement which rallies people to a leader. Moreover when
the leader handles the crisis with success, the public support he receives is even greater.

But the public official who believes this is enduring or “undying” support, will find himself embarrassingly mistaken. Because of the very nature of crisis, the reaction to it is primarily emotional. And emotions of loyalty and support engendered by crisis can cool off as fast as they can heat up, particularly where a political leader is concerned. I can think of no better illustration of this phenomenon than what happened to me in the period following my return from South America.

Thousands of congratulatory messages poured into my office. They came from a diverse cross section of the United States, from diplomats, from labor leaders, from university presidents, and from people in every walk of life, Democrats and Republicans alike. The newspaper columnists described me as a “hero” who had shown that “Mr. Nixon can dish it out . . . and he can take it too . . . a quality much admired in these United States.” For the first two or three weeks after I returned, Mrs. Nixon and I found ourselves applauded by spectators in hotel lobbies, railroad stations, and other public places where we happened to be seen.

Walter Annenberg, publisher of the Philadelphia
Inquirer,
remarked at a dinner he and his wife, Lee, were giving in our honor in Philadelphia one evening, “Dick, you now have the support of many Democrats, as well as Republicans, and I only hope you can find a way to keep it.”

At this time, in June 1958, just one month after my return from South America, the Gallup Poll showed me leading Adlai Stevenson for the first time, and running neck-and-neck against John F. Kennedy. It was the high point of my political popularity up to that time.

This political picture was not lost upon the Democrats. The counterattack began late that summer. The Democratic National Chairman depicted what had happened in South America as a “Republican plot” to build me up politically. Then newspaper columnists, sitting at their desks in Washington, wrote their “interpretations” of what the South American trip meant. One wrote that the riots were directed against me as an individual, and that the attempts to stir up trouble against the United States could not be blamed on the Communists.
⁴
Another
said that I had planned the whole thing for publicity purposes, and implied that I had gone to Caracas in order to have rocks thrown at me. Another said it was undignified and unnecessarily dangerous for me to meet with students, labor leaders, and the like, on my trips abroad. These attacks, of course, had their effect in blurring the image the public had of my Caracas experience immediately after my return from South America.