By Kevin D. Williamson
Tuesday, March 28, 2017
Today marks the anniversary of the death of Dwight
Eisenhower on March 28, 1969. He was born in the 19th century and was one of
the indispensable figures of the 20th. There were more consequential men in his
generation, “consequential” being a word that is morally neutral: Adolf Hitler
was born one year before him, Mao Zedong three years after.
We generally remember public figures on their birthdays
rather than on the anniversaries of their deaths, with an exception for those
who died in assassinations or other dramatic fashions. But there is something
to be learned from Eisenhower’s death, a subject to which he gave some real
consideration before the moment was forced to its crisis. He had been, during
his military career, “General of the Army,” an extraordinary and temporary rank
that, before its revival by Congress in 1944, had last been conferred upon
Ulysses Grant, William T. Sherman, and (an honorary designation just before his
death) Philip Sheridan. The only man ever to outrank Eisenhower while living
was General of the Armies John Pershing, George Washington having been promoted
to that rank only posthumously.
General Grant had saved the country before becoming its
president; General Eisenhower, who was deeply competitive, one-upped Grant and
saved the world. (Before that, he had spent 16 years as a major without being
promoted.) “I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can,” Eisenhower
later said, “only as one who has seen its brutality, its stupidity.” But in
Eisenhower’s army, high promotions were earned on the battlefield, and he must
have secretly welcomed the opportunity for advancement. He was, like General
Washington, conscious of his reputation.
And what a reputation it was. It is difficult for
Americans living in 2017 to imagine a sitting American president, much less a
retired one, being the most highly regarded man in the world. But Richard Nixon
did not exaggerate in his eulogy of his predecessor: “Some men are considered
great because they lead great armies or they lead powerful nations. For eight
years now, Dwight Eisenhower has neither commanded an army nor led a nation;
and yet he remained through his final days the world’s most admired and
respected man, truly the first citizen of the world.”
Eisenhower hadn’t quite made like Cincinnatus, but he did
retire to his farm in Pennsylvania, though he spent much of his time in sunny
Palm Desert, Calif., where he golfed by day and played bridge by night. He did
not go out of his way to inject himself into public life. Part of that
certainly had to do with the rise of the conservative movement, which
understood itself as opposed to Eisenhower-style Republicanism —“Our principles
are round, and Eisenhower is square,” declared young William F. Buckley Jr. —
and whose members did not share the world’s awe of Eisenhower. Like Ronald
Reagan, Eisenhower had made his peace with much of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s
welfare state, leading Barry Goldwater to dismiss his program as “a dime-store
New Deal.”
But Eisenhower had a great deal on his agenda: He wanted
to balance the budget and end the Korean War. He integrated the military, which
Harry Truman had promised and failed to do. He also desegregated the District
of Columbia and the federal government, and used federal funding as leverage to
force desegregation elsewhere. He fought for and signed the Civil Rights Acts
of 1957 and 1960. When the Democrats in Arkansas refused to comply with Brown, Eisenhower sent in the 101st
Airborne. He established NASA and DARPA and signed the National Defense
Education Act into law. He oversaw the revision of the Atomic Energy Act to
allow for the development of civilian nuclear power. He smacked down Joseph
McCarthy and, when his advisers unveiled a crackpot scheme to use nuclear
weapons to save the French position at Dien Bien Phu, he replied: “You boys
must be crazy.” He sent U.S. troops into Lebanon to stop a Soviet-backed
revolt. He convinced Congress to pass the Formosa Resolution, obliging the
United States to defend Taiwan against Communist China. He forced the
withdrawal of foreign forces from Egypt during the Suez crisis. He saw to the
elevation of West Germany as a full NATO member, a critical turning point in
European affairs. He helped Mohammad Mosaddegh into an early retirement. He
welcomed two new states into the Union.
The remarkable thing is that, while all that was going
on, Eisenhower managed to convince the nation that there were no crises and
nothing to worry about, that he was spending much of his time playing golf. The
nation was happy to believe him.
He had waited a long time for his talents and abilities
to be appreciated, but upon his election he was intent on serving only a single
term. He served two, and perhaps these visual aids will shed some light on how
he came to that decision:
But even though he was very much conscious of his place
in the world and its history — and was not exactly immune to the temptations of
vanity, or to temptation, period — he set an example, tragically abandoned, of
conducting a presidential career with humility. Knowing that he would lie in
state after his death, he made detailed plans for the event: He was laid out in
the $80 government-issue wooden coffin that was the final resting place of
thousands of ordinary soldiers, wearing an army field jacket. A soldier, David
Ralph, sang “The Old Rugged Cross” at his funeral, which ended with a tape
recording of “America the Beautiful.”
He governed in complicated times. Those who take to heart
only his warnings about the “military-industrial complex” should bear in mind
that he oversaw a military budget that was, in real GDP terms, three times
larger than it is today. He sometimes called himself a “progressive
conservative,” meaning that, unlike the conservatives of his time, he saw no
pressing need to dismantle the welfare state — which at the time (again, in
real GDP terms) was barely a quarter of the size it is today. Time has a funny
way with things: The conservative movement rejected Eisenhower in the 1950s,
but which libertarian, national-security conservative, or traditionalist in
2017 would be unhappy if today’s Republicans cut 75 percent of the welfare
state, tripled military spending, cut taxes modestly, and balanced the budget
in the process — while working under a president with an excellent record on the
most pressing domestic issue of his time?
It is not 1957 anymore, and a return to Eisenhower-era
policies would be neither wise nor popular. But a return to modesty, prudence,
and genuine responsibility? That is something to which we ought to aspire. The
great events of Eisenhower’s day went from Great War to Depression to Holocaust
to Cold War, a ghastly progression, but Eisenhower remained famous for his
sunny disposition and his winning smile — which was, of course, partly genuine
and partly camouflage that protected others from the burdens he bore. The
United States does not need a Dwight Eisenhower holiday to go along with the
days set aside for men such as Washington and Lincoln. What the United States
does need is 365 days in the year on which we insist that the men with whom we
entrust the nation’s business endeavor to live up to the example set by men who
did so much more with so much less in incomparably harder times — that they, to
the extent that they have it in them, be like Ike.
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