Among the most positively remembered presidents of the United States is John F. Kennedy, whose youthful term was abruptly cut short by an assassination. Praised for his support of the Civil Rights movement and popularly mythologized through Jackie Kennedy’s characterization of his time in office as “Camelot,” collective historical memory views him with a nostalgic fondness. Kennedy’s handling of the Cuban Missile Crisis is often hailed as a defining moment of his presidency, where the young leader rose to the occasion and stood up to the Soviet threat. Much of this sweeps over President Kennedy’s failed Bay of Pigs invasion of 1961 and the foreign policy stumbles he suffered leading up to the October 1962 climax. To dispel the oversimplified myth of Kennedy’s flawless heroism, historian Serhii Plokhy invites us to explore a more nuanced, detailed understanding of the Cuban Missile Crisis and its actors. By discussing the Cuban conflict as more than Kennedy’s triumph, Plokhy’s Nuclear Folly provides an important analysis of the complex diplomatic and personal communications between the Kennedy, Khruschev, and Castro administrations. Although not free from his own subtle narrative interpretations and biases, particularly in his descriptions of Fidel Castro and Nikita Khruschev, Plokhy’s book is a timely revisiting of the diplomatic and military decisions that significantly shaped the postmodern world’s relationship to nuclear weapons.
Plokhy’s main interpretation of the Cuban Missile Crisis is that it was not averted because of diplomacy alone – it was Kennedy and Khruschev’s shared fear of nuclear war.[1] By introducing this fact in his prologue, he reminds us that these larger-than-life historical leaders were humans. In this process, however, subtle biases towards the three main leaders of the Cuban crisis. He describes the president as charismatic and well-intentioned, but unprepared and clueless to deal with Cuban and Soviet diplomacy. Cuba is “a symbol of America’s failure,” a representation of the nation’s inability to fulfill its lofty promises of anti-imperialism and anti-colonialism in stark contrast to Kennedy’s American idealism.[2] Khruschev plays the part of Kennedy’s opposite, a veteran politician wielding bombast and bluff looking to dominate the young president. Castro is a stubborn wildcard, throwing a wrench into the earnest American and Soviet peace efforts.
Plokhy gives Kennedy his flowers, praising his refusal to capitulate to Khruschev while prioritizing peace. This respect Plokhy has comes not from nostalgia, as he is still guarded in his trust for official U.S. narratives, but from an appreciation for learning from his mistakes, particularly regarding the failed Bay of Pigs invasion. Plokhy has the most to say about Khruschev’s character, hardly missing any chance to describe him as a clever, but idealistic elder statesman that believed himself to be the hero to put out each diplomatic fire, even if he was the one to have stoked them. Though employing many colorful descriptions of his anger, stubbornness and pride, these analyses are heavily based on U.S. and Soviet accounts, from diplomats and leaders themselves, who tend to label Khruschev as quick to anger. Plokhy also shares a similar opinion to Polyansky, who openly criticized Khruschev for his risk-taking to be the cause of a scuffle that not only embarrassed the Soviet Union, but risked nuclear war with the United States. Importantly, while Plokhy acknowledges the Politburo’s assessment of the Cuban Missile Crisis damaging the Soviet Union’s international image and Cuba-Soviet relations, he does not get lost in politics and reminds readers of the Soviet soldiers that experienced that humiliating retreat on the ground and in-person.[3] Despite his many flaws in handling Cuba, Plokhy argues that Khruschev is not credited enough for his and Soviet diplomat Anastas Mikoyan’s role in preventing nuclear war.
Plokhy adds to the greater Cold War historiography by frequently comparing what diplomats and leaders would say to each other in public versus private. Using both American and Soviet sources, including memoirs, newspapers and government databases, he invites readers to question just how committed these leaders were to their ideology by discussing their contradictions. Most American sources he uses are from official government websites and presidential foundations. Plokhy challenges government narratives on both the Soviet and American sides. He does not shy away from criticism, basing the majority of his conclusions in his comparative analyses of private and public statements to find a more truthful chronology. This can be seen most especially in his criticism of Khruschev, a figure which he interestingly divides into two ‘sides.’ Though Khruschev’s inconsistency during the crisis is criticized by Plokhy, he also writes that Khruschev is a salient memoirist, agreeing with the late Soviet leader’s laying of the blame crisis at Castro. Plokhy distinguishes the ‘memoirist’ side of Khruschev as being more honest than the ‘politician,’ remaining critical of his diplomatic choices while also divulging much of Khruschev’s own private writings. Addressing Robert Kennedy’s 1969 Thirteen Days: A Memoir of the Cuban Missile Crisis as a highly influential but biased account of events that knowingly omitted information counter to the myth, Plokhy makes use of the decades of work and recent uncovering of the ExCom debate tapes to produce a more wholesale narrative rife with human mistakes by both the American and Soviet leadership.[4]
Despite his compelling critiques of administrative narratives and diplomatic decisions, he leaves a notable gap in the relationship between Castro and internal Cuban opinion. Castro’s descriptions are limited to the ways in which he reacted to the superpowers of the United States and Soviet Union. He is painted as an opportunist, reacting to the Bay of Pigs invasion with a desperate declaration that his revolution was socialist to court Soviet support.[5] Though these characterizations are based on documented interactions of his contemporaries, friend and foe, one must wonder what else could have been said about Castro’s domestic reputation and how it influenced his decision-making. Beyond an early mention of the Castro regime’s disregard for international opinion, Plokhy seldom touches on Castro within a Cuban context.[6]
More than sixty years have passed since the Cuban Missile Crisis, a near-fatal mistake that Plokhy writes is quickly being forgotten. His revisiting of the Cuban Missile Crisis does not editorialize the actions of leaders who set aside ideological beliefs and risked their international image to the ends of preserving peace. He argues that we continue to live in the shadow of the Cuban Missile Crisis, primarily because the power of nuclear weapons is still in the hands of a select few leaders, while their citizens must anxiously depend on their “leadership and political skills, the soundness of their judgment, and the strength of their nerves” to prevent a nuclear war.[7] Plokhy calls for us to proactively meet the nuclear problem head-on, to come to the negotiating table with Russia and China to get ahead of the next Cuban Missile Crisis as the world’s collective memory of it fades.[8] He calls for citizens to relearn this fading Cold War history and urge their elected officials to push for renewed arms-controls, placing power ultimately in the reader to act. His calls especially ring louder amidst the United States’ bombing of Iran and the ongoing Russia-Ukraine War.
Plokhy’s writing is clear and concise, and an excellent introduction into a complex and controversial event in history that aims to be critical of world leaders and the information they hide from their citizens. In light of these familiar dangers, now more than ever should historians be encouraging others to learn about their world beyond the classroom. College education is unfortunately not accessible to all, and for many young learners, social media is now the most widely used source of news, and most concerning of all, historical facts. Though historians should always contribute to the greater academic advancement of the field, we should also reach beyond our colleagues by having conversations with all people, be it by social media, local clubs, or simply earnest talks with those we know.
[1] Plokhy, Serhii. Nuclear Folly: A History of the Cuban Missile Crisis. New York: W. W. Norton & Company (2021,) xix.
[2] Plokhy, 7.
[3] Plokhy, 357.
[4] Plokhy, xvii.
[5] Plokhy, 42.
[6] Plokhy, 10.
[7] Plokhy, 362.
[8] Plokhy, 363.
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