Stanford University Press Blog

The Roots of International Women’s Day: a Guest Post by Myra Marx Ferree, author of Varieties of Feminism: German Gender Politics in Global Perspective

March 8, International Women’s Day, provides a perfect occasion to reflect on the different histories of gender and class politics across the globe and, in particular, in the United States and Germany, two countries where feminists were fundamental to establishing this global holiday at the beginning of the twentieth century. There are many stories about the origins of this special day. Reliable histories suggest the day developed in reaction to a lack of specific consideration offered women workers in the May Day labor mobilizations of the 1880s and 1890s, as socialists organized to promote the eight-hour day.   
  
On February 23, 1909, feminists in the United States, led by the Women’s Trade Union League, proclaimed a National Women’s Day to emphasize the need for women’s suffrage to offer a political voice for women working in factories. Here, this was not a socialist issue alone, but was a common cause for a cross-class coalition of feminists that emerged from the New York shirtwaist strike in support of working women’s labor rights. (The movement was further energized following the horrific Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire on March 25, 1911, in which more than 150 women died.)

 In 1910, German socialist feminist Clara Zetkin cited the U.S. National Women’s Day as inspiration when she led the women of the Second International, a socialist alliance, to call for an International Women’s Day to highlight wage-earning women’s labor rights and desire for the right to vote. To this point, labor protection and woman’s suffrage had not proved as unifying an issue in Germany as it had in the United States. German middle-class feminists often supported a right to vote limited to property owners, both men and women, disenfranchising the entire working-class. So Zetkin and other “proletarian feminists” put their primary emphasis on socialist organizing work. 

 

 

 By 1911, International Women’s Day was fixed on March 8. As illustrated in a poster produced for the 1914 Berlin International Women’s Day rally, the day had become a celebration of working-class women’s political strength in Germany. On the poster, an angry proletarian woman waves the red flag of the socialist party in support of their demand for women’s suffrage. (Decades later, this strong heritage of socialist feminism continued to define the perspective of feminists in Germany, and International Women’s Day remained an occasion to mobilize women for women’s rights. In 1971, a socialist feminist group in Berlin took the 1914 poster and redrew it in more contemporary, less emphatically proletarian fashion to announce their own International Women’s Day rally.)

But even as International Women’s Day took on increasing significance around the world over the decades, in the United States, the day did not bring women out to rallies and protest events.  In 1978, the first school district launched a Women’s History Week celebration centering around International Women’s Day. In 1981, Congress recognized the spreading popularity of this event by formally declaring the first week of March Women’s History Week (and in 1987, Congress made it a full month).  While offering a tool for conveying a more gender balanced approach to history in the schools, the U.S. framing of these commemorations moved away from sharing in the international—and more socialist—single day of attention to women’s current political demands and made it a more general reflection on women’s contributions broadly.  

American feminists also took August 28, the anniversary of the passage of the women’s suffrage amendment, as an alternative occasion to celebrate feminist mobilization. From 1923 on, the August anniversary was linked with a continuing demand for passage of an Equal Rights Amendment to the
U.S. constitution, a demand still unrealized today. Like the National Women’s Day that predated it, August 28 feminist events provided a cross-class mobilizing venue that carried fewer suspiciously socialist connotations.  For American feminists, claiming their constitutional rights and fighting stereotyping and discrimination based on gender was seen as “like race” and a unifying cause.

Issues of injustice that particularly affect lower-wage-earning women are still on the agenda of U.S. feminist cross-class mobilizations—most notably, requiring employers to provide a minimum of paid sick leave, and seeking to expand the Family and Medical Leave Act to cover the part-time, temporary jobs, and small employers where half the female workforce is found. But, for better or worse, the separate path taken over the past century by U.S. feminists has weakened the prominence of International Women’s Day as an opportunity for calling for renewed national attention to such inequalities, even while affirming that these are issues for all women regardless of their own social class advantages to rally behind.  U.S. feminists are able to forge an inclusive movement that is respectful not only of the issues but of the voices of women of color and non-citizen women.  But while women immigrants often bring a memory of International Women’s day as important in their own countries, they have not yet found a way to bring the U.S. movement to take this more global perspective on women’s issues.  

The comparative significance of International Women’s Day and its symbolic power could hardly be more different in Germany and the United States, but the points of overlap in its history signal the importance of both the German and U.S. varieties of feminism that developed over the twentieth
century. Both the socialist-infused version of Germany and the cross-class politics of the United States leave traces in contemporary mobilizations and feminist frames that are on display in how local women’s movements  today celebrate International Women’s Day—or not.

 Myra is the author of Varieties of Feminism: German Gender Politics in Global Perspective

In Memoriam: An excerpt from Stephen Guest's Ronald Dworkin, 3rd Edition

To commemorate the life and works of Ronald Dworkin, deemed by many to be the most important and most controversial Anglo-American jurist of the past forty years, we post this excerpt from the newly published 3rd edition of Stephen Guest's "Ronald Dworkin."   This 3rd edition offers a considerable update of the original--a minor classic in the field, offering the most complete analysis and integration of Dworkin's work to date--and incorporates discussion of Dworkin's latest masterwork Justice for Hedgehogs.  Read on for more on same:

Personal Ethics and Dignity: The Importance of an Authentic Life 

One of the striking points about Justice for Hedgehogs is Dworkin’s use of a distinction between personal “ethics” (how we should live) and “morality” (how we should act towards others). He thinks
morality derived from our sense of ourselves and what we think is right for ourselves is the basis on which we work out what is right in our conduct towards others. He there­fore looks for an ethical, not moral, standard to guide our interpretation of moral concepts. An obvious obstacle to the idea is, however, that our personal responsibility to do what’s best for ourselves seems to clash with what we should do for others. Dworkin is remarkably original in his attitude to this: he thinks it is too “austere” a way of looking at it because it denies what he calls our “authenticity,” that is, our personal responsibility to make our lives our own, endorsed by us, and us alone. He says that if we are to live genuinely authentic lives, and thus live our lives responsibly, we need to conceive our personality and life in a way that can “break out of distinctly moral considerations.” The austere—Kantian—view that our personal life consists of continually doing what is morally right—that is, that our personal life is always a reflection back on how we treat others—is, he says, “sad.” It makes morality seem like an “arduous and unpleasant mountain we must constantly cross.”

Dworkin therefore proposes a different way of understanding the cat­egorical nature of morality. It doesn’t just promote our personal desire; that is too “implausible.” Rather, we need to find what personal goals would fit and justify our sense of having obligations. He says that both Hobbes and
Hume claimed ethical bases for moral principles. However, Hobbes’s moral principles, deriving from a “social contract” and based only on the need for individuals to “survive”—a matter of “self-defense”—is not, Dworkin says, a sufficient condition for living well. An ethical life can’t be based on what we
need in order to defend ourselves. Humean “sensibilities” are, he says, “more agreeable,” but sensitivity alone cannot answer problems about the way we should live; our ethical life couldn’t consist of our just following our feelings. Nor, he says, can Hume’s utilitarian principle help, because while it would mean treating everyone’s interests equally, this “can hardly serve as a strategy for living well oneself.”

Opposing the conventional view, Dworkin distinguishes between having a good life and living well. A good life is not just having what one wants, but living according to our critical interests. Nevertheless, he
says, it is “wildly implausible” to suppose that living a morally good life is the same as living well. In fact, a decent view of our moral responsibilities could easily lead to a life not lived well: 

It is hard to believe that someone who has suffered terrible misfortunes has had a better life than he would have had if he had acted immorally and then prospered in every way, creatively, emotionally and materially, in a long and peaceful life.  

We can understand the satisfaction of our drives, tastes and preferences but it is considerably more difficult to understand our desire to live a critically good life—a life of pleasure is not enough. We want, Dworkin says, to live responsibly. He suggests an analogy of art with life; we value our lives for their “adverbial value,” the value of the “performance” rather than the “im­pact” they have on others: 

On any plausible view of what is truly wonderful in almost any human life, impact hardly comes into the story at all.  

Further, striving for a good life is not the same as minimizing the risks of a bad one. Lives are better for “spontaneity, style, authenticity and daring” and the setting of difficult or impossible tasks. But these can go crashingly wrong: living well is not the same thing as maximizing the chances of the best
possible life. On the other hand, he says that we can have a bad life in spite of living well. It is not just that our life can be bad because we made bad choices but because of matters of luck and the circumstances in which we find ourselves. We may, for example, be prejudiced against, or be born disabled, or we may die at a tragically young age. We can also have a good life in spite of our living badly. Dworkin gives the example of the Medici prince who lives a life of achievement and refinement but does so through killing and betrayal. The distinction between “living well” and “living a good life” makes sense of the phenomenon of “moral luck.” We can feel regret for something that was not our fault, as would the bus driver who drives without fault but twenty schoolchildren die as a result of the bus crashing. It makes sense to say that the bus driver “lived well” but had a “less good life” because of the accident. The distinction also makes sense of whether what happens after your death affects the goodness of your life: it doesn’t affect how well you lived but it affects the goodness of your life.

It would be a mistake, says Dworkin, for us not to care about how we personally live. Judging people to be equal is much more of a principle of morality than it is of ethics; it tells us that no one’s life is “more important” than anyone else’s. The principle that we should show respect for ourselves is clearly
ethical because it describes the attitude we should have to our own lives. Is it, then, important to “live well”? It is different from enjoyment, although enjoyment is linked to what we believe is “living well”; “pleasure,” too, is not pure feeling independent of belief about what gives rise to it because it is “fused with ethical flavor”—even the enjoyment of doing what we know we shouldn’t.

Authenticity, he thinks, is “the other side of self-respect,” for it requires accepting responsibility for our actions both towards others and ourselves. I can’t treat an act as mine unless I accept responsibility for
it (I can’t hive off my responsibility for something I’ve done by saying my parents are to blame, for example). I should also be prepared to acknowledge limits both to what I ask of others and to what I ask of myself. I can’t demand that others fund ridiculously expensive projects I have in mind (such as major
help in building a vast monument to my personal god); nor should I suppose that because I made some relatively minor mistake in my life I should suffer a life of hair shirts and dire poverty. Authenticity demands, Dworkin says, that we strive for independence but this idea is not the same as the commonly
understood value of “autonomy”; that idea does not adequately bring out the way we have to balance the ethical and moral determinants and do so while being bound to some extent by an “ethical culture.” His example is that it is not possible to live a life of medieval chivalry in Brooklyn in the present age. The idea of independence must capture the internal ground between those inescapable influences on us and our being dominated: “We cannot escape influence but we must resist domination.” So autonomy is not a “range of choices” as, for example, Joseph Raz has argued. Rather, Dworkin says: 

Authenticity is damaged when a person is made to accept someone else’s judgment in place of his own about the values or goals his life should display.

Egypt's State of Emergency, and What it May Mean for the Future of Morsi's Government

The continuing unrest in Egypt has undermined hopes for a dramatic shift away from the authoritian regime that was in place before the spring 2011 revolution.  Latest developments raise further questions about Morsi's ability to lead the nation away from the oppressive regimes of the past.  A recent piece in the New York Times describing the State of Emergency declared in three Egyptian cities on Sunday, January 27, observed: "By imposing a one-month state of emergency in Suez, Ismailia and here in Port Said, where the police have lost all control, Mr. Morsi’s declaration chose to use one of the most despised weapons of former President Hosni Mubarak’s autocracy." The piece went on to comment that "a state of emergency suspends the ordinary judicial process and most civil rights. It gives the president and the police extraordinary powers."  And today's New York Times reports that " the nation’s top general warned Tuesday that the state itself was in danger of collapse if the feuding civilian leaders could not agree on a solution to restore order."

Comments on the parallels between both governments are not new, and certainly not to Josh Stacher:  "Morsi's declaration of a state of emergency in Egypt's three most central canal cities is partially a reaction to the inherited legacy of the Egyptian state after Hosni Mubarak's overthrow and the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces-led transition. Morsi is unable to prevent the periodic but routine violence from happening because he refuses to address the protesters' most basic demand: To reform the Interior Ministry and its coercive instruments.

In many respects, he fails to reform the Ministry because he cannot, which leaves him trapped at the crossroads of blame for this violence. Thus, Morsi confronts not only a restive population that has shown no signs of returning to their homes, but also a unbroken state whose ranks are cohesive in their
obstruction of his attempts to lead. Given that the 18 days of revolt in 2011 dislodged Mubarak but did not break the state, it is producing an overall deterioration of state authority and weakening of the state elites' ability to project power or heed the calls of its citizens."

For a more complete analysis on the legacy of authoritarian governments in Egypt, and a striking comparison of those governments in Egypt and Syria, turn to Stacher's latest book,  Regime Power in Egypt and Syria.

 

Congrats to our 6 winners of the CHOICE Outstanding Academic Title Award!

They are:

1. Corrigall-Brown, Catherine. Patterns of Protest: trajectories of participation in social movements.
2. Kovner, Sarah. Occupying power: sex workers and servicemen in postwar Japan.
3. Mintz, Alan. Sanctuary in the Wilderness: a critical introduction to American Hebrew poetry.
4. Murav, Harriet.  Music From a Sppeding Train: Jewish literature in post-revolution Russia. 
5. The New Gilded Age: the critical inequality debates of our time, ed. by David B. Grusky and Tamar Kricheli-Katz.
6. Winter, Harold. The Economics of Excess: addiction, indulgence, and social policy.  

According to CHOICE, " The 644 titles in this year’s list are members of an exclusive club, representing less than 9 percent of the titles reviewed by Choice in 2012, and less than 3 percent of the 25,000 titles submitted.  As always, only a select group of publishers and authors are represented on such a list. Outstanding Academic Titles are truly the “best of the best.”Congratulations to you and your colleagues on this outstanding achievement."

Steve Levingston, Nonfiction Editor at the Washington Post Book World, on "Why University Presses Matter"

In honor of  the AAUP's "University Press Week," Stanford University Press is delighted to join 25 of our fellow presses in a blog tour celebrating the importance of university presses.  Here is Steve Levingston, Nonfiction Editor at the Washington Post Book World; stay tuned for the next post as Claire Bond Potter, author and Tenured Radical Blogger, writes for Georgia University Press on "Small is Better: Why University Presses Are Sustainable Presses."

"Several years ago when I started The Washington Post’s books blog Political Bookworm (now sadly
defunct), I quickly learned how compelling and truly indispensible university press books are. University press books cover topics of pressing social and cultural interest, and they make the perfect fit for curious readers hoping to engage in the national conversation.  

On the Political Bookworm, we were lucky to find many eager university press authors to provide posts, and we benefited enormously from the insights and conversations generated by these authors. They wrote for us on a range of issues across the political spectrum. Their postings, typically based on their own books, often caused a flurry of comments and were tweeted and retweeted in large numbers.  

With so many past postings to choose from, I can randomly click through the Political Bookworm site and hit on fascinating topics. (And I encourage readers to take a stroll through the Political Bookworm,  check the archives, and see what I mean.) Here is just a quick sampling among the many topics that inspired me from university press books. 

• We discussed whether or not there is a place for religion in the classroom in Emile Lester’s post developed from his book Teaching About Religions: A Democratic Approach for Public Schools (The University of Michigan Press).  

• We probed the tricky question of how not only to improve health care, but also to bring down healthcare costs in John E. Wennberg’s post based on his book Tracking Medicine: A Researcher's Quest to Understand Health Care (Oxford University Press).   

• We looked at how political leaders have tried, quite inappropriately, to influence scientists in Raymond S. Bradley’s post drawing on his book Global Warming and Political Intimidation: How Politicians Cracked Down on Scientists as the Earth Heated Up (University of Massachusetts Press).  

• We introduced readers to a great writer's perspective on war. Offering many revelatory insights,
  Thomas E. Barden, the editor of Steinbeck in Vietnam: Dispatches from the War (University of Virginia Press), shared Steinbeck’s statement from February 1967: “The enemy is in front of us, behind us and often among us. They strike, retreat, disperse, and regroup.”  

In addition to featuring university press books on our blog, we’ve given them a prominent place in The Washington Post Book World review pages where we’ve showcased these books’ mastery of a subject, or fine storytelling, or both. A particular favorite of mine jumps to mind: Marigold: The Lost Chance for Peace in Vietnam by James G. Hershberg (Stanford University Press/Woodrow Wilson Center). Our reviewer, Gordon Goldstein, called the book "a staggering exercise in historical scholarship," noting that “Hershberg has achieved his presumptive goal of writing the definitive study of a hidden history that had been the subject of intense speculation over the years but never comprehensively told.” Not only that, Marigold is a fluid, dramatic read. To me, it represents—as indeed do all these books and the conversations they’ve since inspired—what is invaluable about university presses."

Steven Levingston

Nonfiction Editor

The Washington Post

 

The Cuban Missile Crisis 50 Years On: A Day by Day Account of Events as They Unfolded

Tuesday, October 23, 10:00 a.m.

The latest U-2 photos revealed  that several MRBM launchers were no longer visible and could have been moved. JFK urged stressing the mobility of the missiles in order to defuse charges that they should have been discovered earlier: “Let’s get that on the record.” The president also seemed surprised to learn that “There is a question about whether these things really exist?” and finally agreed to display some of the photos at the upcoming U.N. debate. Soon after JFK left the meeting, Secretary Rusk arrived with the news that the Organization of American States (OAS) would unanimously endorse the blockade later that afternoon. His colleagues were thrilled that “our diplomacy is working”; but Rusk cautiously observed, “Well, my God! . . . I think it was very significant that we were here this morning.” It appeared that the Soviets were not going to respond to the blockade with a sudden, irrational nuclear strike on the United States.  

October 23, 6:00 p.m.

A vigorous debate developed over whether the navy should stop and search Soviet ships that had reversed course before reaching the quarantine line. The president argued that a ship carrying
offensive weapons would most likely turn around to avoid capture. “We’ve hadno indications,” Rusk explained, “of any Soviet instructions . . . to pull way. . . . Just the converse.” Kennedy also expressed serious concerns that the oviet crews might resist boarding and that machine-gun fire could result in
dozens of casualties on both sides. In addition, the defense department’s ivil defense director all but admitted that there was not much that could be done o protect civilians, especially in rural areas, from radiation exposure in he event that “ten or fifteen missiles” were fired at the U.S. from Cuba.  

October 23, 7:00 p.m.

Shortly after the conclusion of the 6:00 p.m. meeting, the president and his brother Bobby talked alone in the Oval Office. “It looks like it’s gonna be real mean, doesn’t it?” JFK declared. “If they get this mean on this one—Jesus Christ! What are they gonna fuck up next?” “There wasn’t any choice,” RFK responded; “I mean you woulda been impeached.” “Well, that’s what I think,” JFK replied. They agreed that OAS support would be invaluable in legitimizing the blockade but also recognized that no one could forecast events at the quarantine line the following morning. Wednesday, October 24, 10:00 a.m. The ExComm gathered in the Cabinet Room at virtually the moment that the quarantine proclamation became legally effective. The discussion initially focused on the ships approaching the quarantine line; however, an unconfirmed message arrived claiming that “all six Soviet ships currently identified in Cuban waters have either stopped or reversed course.” There was, nonetheless, great concern that Soviet submarines near Cuba might sink a U.S. Navy vessel. The president (at RFK’s suggestion) ordered all navy ships to have a Russian-speaking officer on board. When confirmation arrived that the Soviet ships had indeed reversed course, the president instructed that they should not be stopped, boarded, or harassed: “Youd don’t wanna have word goin’ out from Moscow, ‘Turn around,’ and suddenly we sink their ship.”

October 24, 4:30 p.m.

The president chatted briefly in the Oval Office with a few advisers. He was shown photos that revealed Soviet efforts to camouflage the missile sites during the night and remarked: “I think the irony will be that the Russians led us into a trap.” Bundy recommended using the photos to “back our claim,” and JFK approved making them available to the press.

October 24,  5:00 p.m.

The president met for the second time with the bipartisan leaders of Congress. Rusk explained that the situation was still fluid and that the Soviets had not yet decided on their next move. President Kennedy suggested several possible scenarios: the Soviets might turn back some ships carrying weapons; they might choose a ship “for a test case, either to have us sink it, or disable it, and have a fight about it”; or they might allow the inspection of ships not carrying offensive weapons. Senators Russell and Fulbright, his toughest critics at the first congressional meeting, asked why conventional weapons (e.g., rifles) were not being interdicted. The president explained that “the first collision with the Soviets” should be on offensive missiles “for political reasons . . . this puts us in a much stronger position around the world.” But he added, “if they accept the quarantine, we will not permit these rifles to go through.” The congressional leaders agreed to remain on eight-hour standby for another meeting.

October 24, 6:00 p.m.

After the congressional meeting, the president talked informally with several advisers in the Oval Office.
Former defense secretary Robert Lovett endorsed the blockade because it gave the Soviets “a couple of days while they make up their own minds what their intentions are.” He was, like the president, suspicious of military overconfidence, especially the “congenital habit of overstating the ease as well as
the results of an air strike.” The views of the sixty-seven-year-old Lovett dovetailed with those already expressed by the forty-five-year-old commander in chief: “There’s no such thing,” he explained, “as a small military action. . . . Now the moment we start anything in this field, we have to be prepared to do everything.” He urged the president to wait until Soviet intentions had become clear. JFK expressed concern that work on the missile sites would continue regardless of the United Nations proposal for a joint suspension of the quarantine and arms shipments to Cuba. McCone stressed, and Kennedy agreed, that any deal had to include a halt to work on the missile sites and assurances that no missiles would be placed on launchers, to be verified by on-site U.N. observers.

 

Excerpts taken from The Cuban Missile Crisis in American Memory, by Sheldon Stern.

The Cuban Missile Crisis 50 Years On: A Day by Day Account of Events As They Unfolded

Monday, October 22, 11:00 a.m

The principal purpose of the meeting was to finalize the president’s speech to the nation (scheduled for early that evening) and the letter to Khrushchev, which would be handed to the Soviet ambassador just before airtime. Secretary of State Dean Rusk proposed a possible U.N. role in neutralizing nuclear missiles in any country that was not a nuclear power—in effect, Cuba, Turkey, and Italy. “Why don’t we go all the way?” the president responded. “That gives us an excuse to get ’em out of Turkey and Italy.” However, he rejected any proposal to lift the quarantine until the missiles were removed from Cuba. There was also discussion about how to handle the press and public relations after the speech, perhaps by making some U-2 photos public.

October 22, noon

The president asked if American personnel in Turkey had been instructed (as he had ordered two days earlier) not to fire the Jupiter missiles without direct presidential authorization. Assistant defense secretary Paul Nitze strenuously resisted, claiming that the JCS had already issued instructions to cover that eventuality; he also reminded the president that an attack on Turkey meant immediate execution of the European Defense Plan—“which is nuclear war.” “I don’t think,” JFK pronounced sharply, “we ought to accept the Chiefs’ word on that one, Paul.” Nitze finally agreed to make sure the JCS understood the president’s orders (for a more complete account of this xchange, see Epilogue).

October 22, 3:00 p.m.

The president met with the full National Security Council, including the Joint Chiefs, to formalize his decision to blockade Cuba. “Khrushchev,” he grimly predicted “will not take this without a response, maybe in Berlin or maybe here. But the choices being one among second best—I think we’ve done the best thing at least as far as you can tell in advance.” He conceded that if work continued on the sites or a
U-2 was shot down then additional steps would be considered. He seemed confident that a convincing case could be made in the court of world public opinion that the blockade was not comparable to the 1948 Soviet blockade of Berlin: “This is not a blockade in that sense. It’s merely an attempt to prevent
the shipment of weapons there.” Kennedy did not want to hand Khrushchev a propaganda plum by revealing that surprise air attacks had even been discussed and was anxious to manage the news in order to preserve this cover story. “So I think,” he ordered, “we oughta just scratch that from all our statements and conversations. . . . I can’t say that strongly enough.”

October 22, 5:00 p.m.

Only two hours before going on national television to reveal the crisis in Cuba, the president met with the bipartisan leaders of the House and Senate—summoned from across the country since Congress was not in session. The leaders, aware that they were being informed, not consulted, sat in stunned silence during a detailed intelligence briefing. Finally, two of the most senior Senate Democrats (Richard Russell of Georgia, chairman of the Armed Services Committee, and J. William Fulbright of Arkansas, chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee) vigorously attacked the blockade decision as inadequate and demanded a full invasion (for a more complete account of this exchange, see Epilogue). The president tried to defend his decision, arguing that an attack on Cuba could result in the loss of Berlin or the possible firing of nuclear missiles at the U.S., which he described as “one hell of a gamble.” He predicted that attacking the missile bases and killing thousands of Russians would be far more dangerous than stopping their ships. But he also admitted, “Now, who knows that? . . . We just tried to make good judgments about a matter on which everyone’s uncertain. But at least it’s the best advice we could get. So we start here.”

Excerpts taken from The Cuban Missile Crisis in American Memory: Myth vs. Reality, by Sheldon Stern

The Cuban Missile Crisis 50 Years On: A Day by Day Account of Events as They Unfolded

Saturday, October 20, 2:30 p.m.

Defense secretary Robert McNamara endorsed the blockade but admonished the president that “there were differences among his advisers.” JCS chairman General Maxwell Taylor insisted that attacking the missiles was less dangerous than allowing the sites to become operational. RFK argued that this might be the last chance “to destroy Castro.” The president finally made his position clear: a blockade was the least provocative first step. He again suggested that it might be necessary to remove U.S. missiles from Turkey “if this issue were raised by the Russians.” He also ordered that American personnel in Turkey be instructed not to fire the Jupiter missiles, even if attacked, without a direct presidential order. Kennedy directed Ted Sorensen to prepare a speech to the nation announcing the blockade. 

Sunday, October 21, early morning and 2:30 p.m.

The discussions turned to the implementation and enforcement of the blockade, defined as a "quarantine of offensive missile equipment.” The president expressed the hope that the Soviets would “turn their ships back rather than submit to inspection.” But he still  feared that Khrushchev might instead rush the missile sites to completion, announce that “Soviet rockets will fly” if the U.S. attacked Cuba, and move to force the U.S. out of Berlin. Kennedy also ordered the evacuation of U.S. dependents
from the Guantánamo naval base within twenty-four hours; 2,500 military family members were given fifteen minutes to pack one bag each before boarding navy transport ships for Norfolk, Virginia.

Excerpted from The Cuban Missile Crisis in American Memory: Myth vs, Reality

The Cuban Missile Crisis 50 Years On: A Day by Day Account of Events as They Unfolded. Day 4, Friday, October 19, 1965

Friday, October 19, 9:45 a.m.

The president met with the Joint Chiefs of Staff to reveal his decision to blockade rather than bomb or invade Cuba. He explained that a limited first step might persuade the Soviets not to retaliate in Berlin—reducing the chance of nuclear war. General Curtis LeMay, air force chief of staff, countered that only an invasion would deter Khrushchev in Berlin and called the blockade “almost as bad as the appeasement at
Munich.” The navy, army, and marine chiefs of staff agreed that the only solution in Cuba was “the full gamut of military action by us.” The president insisted that a Soviet nuclear strike on American cities would result in 80-100 million casualties: “you’re talkin’ about the destruction of a country.” The
point, he contended, “is to avoid, if we can, nuclear war by escalation. . . . We’ve got to have some degree of control.”

 

October 19, afternoon and evening

The ExComm met at the State Department (the president had left to campaign in the Midwest) and remained deeply divided about taking military action against Cuba. The tentative consensus for a blockade also began to erode. Robert Kennedy contacted his brother in Chicago and the president, claiming to have a cold and fever, promptly returned to Washington.

The Cuban Missile Crisis 50 Years On: A Day By Day Account of Events as They Unfolded. Day 3, Thursday October 18, 1962

Thursday, October 18, 11:00 a.m.

Early that morning, U-2 photos turned up evidence of intermediate-range ballistic missile sites in Cuba. The IRBMs had a range about twice that of MRBMs and carried far deadlier warheads. Soviet strategic bombers, with the capacity to carry nuclear payloads, were also discovered. The ExComm reconvened with a renewed momentum for military action—especially an invasion. Support for a surprise bombing attack had begun to erode because it seemed reminiscent of Pearl Harbor. But the president resisted the pressure for an invasion, insisting that many people would regard such an attack as “a mad act by the United States.” He also made two tentative references to the possibility of a deal involving the U.S. missiles in Turkey. There was particular concern that Khrushchev would order Soviet troops into West Berlin if the U.S. attacked Cuba—likely leading to nuclear war. “Now the question really is,” the president declared, “what action we take which lessens the chances of a nuclear exchange, which obviously is the final failure.” The blockade option began to look more and more advantageous.

October 18/19, midnight

President Kennedy returned to the Oval Office alone at midnight to record his recollections of an unrecorded meeting just held in the White House living quarters. He observed that there had been a consensus for a blockade, which he described as a limited action “for a limited purpose.” “I was most anxious,” he stressed, that the blockade proclamation should not include a declaration of war.

Excerpts taken from The Cuban Missile Crisis in American Memory: Myth vs. Reality, by Sheldon Stern.

For more on the Cuban Missile Crisis, be sure to tune in to tonight's episode of Commander in Chief: Inside the Oval Office on the Military Channel