and politically “in.” It was epitomized by John Kennedy, the nation’s fallen hero, an elegant intellectual with grace and wit and style, and by Arthur Schlesinger Jr., whose bow ties were as conspicuous as his intellectual arrogance. Johnson knew he was as smart as these people, and had more understanding of the world besides. But they were in vogue and he wasn’t; so, try as he might, he never was able to shake his sense of inferiority. And he did try: he listened to the Harvards on domestic policy and gave them the Great Society. He listened to them on foreign policy and gave them the Vietnam War— escalating it gradually so as not to jeopardize his Great Society. And, after that policy left him sufficiently exposed, after he was hopelessly mired in an ill-conceived war effort that the nation had grown weary of, the Harvards and their youthful followers did just what he always knew they would: they turned on him in his greatest hour of need.
But one wonders: What kind of leader would Johnson have been if he had been more confident of his regional heritage and less obsessed with those Harvards? The question is all the more fascinating because of what is happening in the country these days—politically, economically, demographically, culturally. What is happening is that the South is rising again, sending us Jimmy Carter, country music, the citizens’ band radio craze; gaining on the rest of the country in population, business opportunities, and share of the Gross National Product; markedly influencing our styles, arts, journalism, and habits of mind. Meanwhile, the Cambridge brand of liberalism is in decline, Kennedy’s name is besmirched, and—as James Burnham has remarked —who would bother pushing Arthur Schlesinger into Ethel Kennedy’s swimming pool these days?
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