Zionism: The Real Enemy of the Jews, Volume 1 (59 page)

In his conversation with Forrestal at the Gridiron Dinner, Dewey had remarked to the Secretary of Defence that “Politics looks very simple to the outsider, whether he is a businessman or a soldier”, but “it is only when you get into it that all the angles and hard work become apparent.”
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The fact that Dewey wanted Dulles to be involved implied two things. One was that Dewey would be relying on Dulles to see “all the angles”—i.e. to guarantee that any agreement reached with the Democrats was one without a unilateral escape clause for them. Dewey did not want to be screwed by another Democratic President. The other was that Dewey was serious about wanting negotiations to lift the Palestine problem out of U.S. domestic politics.

Forrestal was pleased with Aldrich’s news. On the telephone he said to him: “I appreciate that a lot, Winthrop. It’s a long road, but that’s a good beginning. I think he (Dewey) is correct. I think from now on it ought to be in channels that are, let’s say, more correct.”
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And then… Within a matter of days the prospect of negotiations to lift the Palestine problem out of U.S. domestic politics was killed.

How did it happen?

It remains a mystery that seekers after the truth have to solve for themselves, with only minimum assistance from Forrestal’s diary and papers as edited and published.

Forrestal sent a transcript of his conversation with Aldrich to Marshall (having previously suggested to the Secretary of State that he should take on the responsibility for managing the negotiations between the party leaders).

That done Forrestal drew up a memorandum for President Truman. The edited version of
The Forrestal Diaries
as published did not reveal what this particular Forrestal memorandum said. Millis merely noted that it summarised Forrestal’s findings.

It is reasonable to speculate that the memorandum was positive on the basis that the Republicans at leadership level were “Go” for negotiations with the Democrats. It is also reasonable to speculate that Forrestal expressed the view that there was now a real chance of making progress; of actually getting the Palestine problem out of the pork barrel of domestic politics and thus opening the door to the prospect of a solution that would be in the best real interests of all concerned, including the Jews of the world (if not the all-or-nothing Zionists in Palestine).

According to the only published version of what happened next, the Forrestal memorandum “apparently” was not submitted to the President. So said Millis in his own summary of events. His explanation was the following (emphasis added).

Forrestal probably had to admit to himself that Baruch was essentially right. The crusade to take Palestine out of politics, high-minded as it was in its inspiration, had
insufficiently grasped the powerful emotional factors involved.
It was
accomplishing very little of practical value
: it was at the same time
impairing Forrestal’s own usefulness and bringing down on the Secretary of Defence a volume of criticism to which he could not, in fairness, subject that office.
He made two appeals to Marshall, on February 12 and 18, to find a non-partisan policy. But these ended his active efforts towards that end. He never changed his opinion while his interest in Palestine never flagged—it could not, since the area was too deeply involved in every strategic and logistic calculation that he was required to confront. Occasionally and with vehemence he continued to speak of the strategic importance of Palestine and of the danger of letting domestic political manoeuvres determine our course there. But his proselytising in the matter was at an end.
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In my view that explanation of why Forrestal did not “apparently” submit his memorandum to President Truman and why, in effect, he bowed to those who were conspiring to have his campaign consigned to the dustbin of history, begs more questions than it answers. In some important respects it is also flatly contradicted by the quoted evidence of Forrestal’s diary.

The main problem with the Millis explanation is its statement that Forrestal’s crusade to take the Palestine problem out of U.S. domestic politics “was accomplishing very little of practical value... ” That was more or less the truth as it could have been stated to be up to 3 February—i.e. before Forrestal was informed by Aldrich that the Republicans at leadership level were willing to have serious negotiations with the Democrats. The truth after 3 February, while Forrestal was preparing his memorandum for the President, was different. There was then a real prospect of the campaign Forrestal had started leading to something of practical value—if Democratic Party leaders and managers were willing to negotiate an agreement with the Republicans for a non-partisan Palestine policy.

The Millis statement that Forrestal had insufficiently grasped the powerful emotional factors involved strikes me as being very odd. The inference is that the first U.S. Secretary of Defence would not have proceeded with his campaign if he had sufficiently grasped the powerful emotional factors involved. That cannot be right. Forrestal was a patriot and, with the exception of the President, the one above all others who had the responsibility to protect not only America’s interests but to keep the Free World free, at a dangerous time of great uncertainty about Soviet intentions. In that context the Millis suggestion that Forrestal’s judgement about how the Palestine problem should be handled would have been any different if he had fully grasped the emotional factors involved seems to me to be nonsense. Any Secretary of Defence of the time who allowed his judgements to be swayed by the emotions of others would have been a terrible liability to his country and quite possibly the whole world.

So far as his own emotions were concerned, Forrestal suppressed them. His almost desperate desire to serve his country to the very best of his ability told him that emotions were a luxury he could not afford to entertain as Secretary of Defence. In that respect he was much too harsh on himself. By suppressing his emotions on account of his sense of duty he denied himself a safety valve, the one thing all human individuals need if, when they are under enormous pressure, they are to remain of sound mind. It may well have been that his lack of an emotional safety valve contributed to the disturbance of his mind that led him, after he became clinically depressed, to suicide.

If Millis had said that Forrestal the investment banker had started out with an insufficient grasp of political reality—the dependency on Jewish votes and campaign funds of not a few of those seeking election or re- election, Democrats especially, and that if Forrestal had had a sufficient grasp of that reality at the outset he might not have embarked on his campaign, he, Millis, might have been right. But I cannot buy even that. Had Forrestal had a sufficient enough grasp of political reality at the outset, I think he would have devised a strategy to take account of it and, probably, would have been more direct and more urgent in his approach to the problem.

And what of the Millis statement that Forrestal’s crusading was impairing his usefulness as Secretary of Defence? That simply was not true. (The Millis account offered no evidence to back the assertion because there was none.) There is a strong case for saying that Forrestal would have bought down a volume of (Zionist-driven) criticism to which he could not in fairness subject his office if the campaign to take Palestine out of U.S. domestic politics had stayed on the road, and if Forrestal had continued to lead it. Conducting negotiations with Republican and Democratic leaders would have taken far too much of his time and energy; and, as Baruch had warned over lunch, would have given the Zionists scope to make life difficult for him in Congress. But Forrestal had been the first to see that danger. That was why, before his lunch with Baruch, he had decided it was not right and proper for him as Secretary of Defence to play the leading role, and that the campaign should continue under the aegis of the Secretary of State. The only sense in which Forrestal’s campaign was impairing his usefulness as Secretary of Defence was that it made him a political liability in the eyes of Democratic Party managers, those with the chief responsibility for soliciting Jewish campaign funds and votes.

In my analysis the Millis explanation as a whole—it may not have been his own—was a political one, effectively a cover-up, for the purpose of closing the Forrestal file on the matter of taking the Palestine problem out of U.S. domestic politics. I mean closing it in a way that, by offering an explanation, would, it was hoped, obviate the need for unwanted further questions about why, really, Forrestal’s initiative was killed.

The truth about what really happened and why has to remain a matter for speculation because we don’t know what Secretary of State Marshall said to Secretary of Defence Forrestal sometime between 3 and 7 February. Given that on the third or fourth day of that month Forrestal sent a transcript of his conversation with Aldrich about Dewey’s position to Marshall, it is inconceivable that Marshall did not respond in some way to Forrestal, by telephone or in the flesh when they had a private moment together. My guess is that Marshall said something like the following to Forrestal:

I agree with you in principle. The Palestine problem ought to be lifted out of U.S. domestic politics... but it isn’t going to happen because the Democrats are not going to give up the Zionist card and the benefits it brings in terms of cash and votes; and the President is not going to override them on this matter. I’m sad to say you’re wasting your time. Don’t bother to send your memorandum to the President.

There can be no doubt that if Truman had asked Marshall to continue with Forrestal’s initiative, he would have done so without flinching. His own sense of duty and loyalty to the President. would not have permitted him to do otherwise. My guess is that Marshall made that clear to Forrestal, but after making it clear I think he would have added, “The President is not going to ask me.”

My own view is that the Millis account could not have been more wrong in its assessment that Forrestal “probably had to admit to himself that Baruch was essentially right.” The reality that Forrestal did admit to himself, probably with the assistance of Marshall’s input, was that lifting the Palestine problem out of the pork barrel of U.S. domestic politics was a mission impossible—no matter that failure to come up with a bi-partisan policy for Palestine would most likely have catastrophic consequences for all concerned in the years to come. Forrestal’s conclusion? There was no point in asking the President to do what he would not do for understandable if deplorable reasons.

A sensational development three weeks later would have removed from Forrestal’s mind any lingering doubt about the certainty that some in the Democratic Party would stop at nothing to prevent the loss of Jewish campaign funds and votes.

On the morning of 26 March, Marshall called Forrestal with disturbing news he had just received from the White House. That afternoon Franklin Roosevelt Junior was to make a statement, to the effect that the Democratic Party would have to draft General Eisenhower as its nominee for the presidency. (The Democratic convention to confirm or deny President Truman the opportunity to run for a second term was scheduled for June). At the time General Eisenhower, “Ike” as he was known with affection, was the most admired and popular figure in America. From a poor family and with not too much in the way of formal academic achievement until he entered the United States Military Academy at West Point, he had risen through the ranks to become the Supreme Commander of Allied Forces in World War II. When America entered the war he was only a colonel. By the time Germany surrendered on 7 May 1945 he was a five-star general. His rapid promotion had happened because Marshall as Chief of Staff had recognised his outstanding abilities and qualities. Eisenhower’s speciality was transforming strategic theory into effective action. One of the keys to his success was his winning personality—his ability to persuade, to mediate and to be agreeable. He had intended to retire from military service after the war but, at President Truman’s request, he had agreed to replace Marshall as Chief of Staff, to allow Marshall to become Secretary of State.

The main point in summary is that the White House was Eisenhower’s for the taking, if he wanted it, because influential people in both parties, Democrats and Republicans, were wooing him. Victory for either party in the coming election was guaranteed with Eisenhower the standard bearer.

When Marshall called Forrestal with news of Roosevelt Junior’s intention, his concern was not on account of any worry about how President Truman might feel about the prospect of being dumped by his party. Both Marshall and Forrestal were aware from their private conversations with him that Truman, actually, was not so enthusiastic about a second term. Deep down Harry Truman had had enough of the pressures to oblige him to put Zionism’s interests before those of the nation. The cause of Marshall’s alarm was the possible consequences for America’s ability to protect its global interests. An attempt to draft Eisenhower now would obviously be interpreted abroad as a lack of support at home for the Truman administration, and that could tempt the Soviet Union or China or others to make menacing moves which the U.S. was not in a position to counter. (Because of its financial commitment to the reconstruction of Europe and the political constraints on mobilisation in peacetime).

At a Cabinet meeting two weeks earlier, Marshall had summarised America’s whole dilemma in one explicit sentence. “We are playing with fire (in the Middle East especially) and we have nothing with which to put it out!”
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The longer version of the same statement was that on nearly every front they faced essentially the same grim alternatives—to withdraw; to attempt to stand pat on positions obviously untenable; simply to confess—as Marshall favoured in the case of China—that the problem was “unsolvable”; or to take vigorous action. The problem with the latter option was that the means and the men did not exist.