The Triumph Of Apocalypse Management
As the president's public words fostered public
anxiety, his private words and policies fostered anxiety within his innermost
circle of advisors. The New Look had created
more problems than it solved. As 1954
turned to 1955, growing nuclear fears in western Europe put growing pressure on
The same kind of conundrum plagued the administration in
specific cold war hot spots, too. In
In the first week of 1955, when the NSC discussed
revisions to the national security policy, the JCS proposed a seemingly simple
solution: commit the
Eisenhower acknowledged the obvious implication: “In many cases
In the nuclear age, though, containment required credible threats that the nation would go to war if provoked. So it needed some measure of the apocalyptic language desired by the JCS and often used by the president himself. Eisenhower showed his apocalyptic penchant in late 1954, as the NSC discussed NSC 5501, an updating of the basic strategy document NSC 162/2.
Treasury Secretary Humphrey argued that “we should withdraw from those positions in the world which we do not propose to defend by military action.…We would in effect be practicing a policy of co-existence.…The United States must participate in a world division of power so carefully balanced that neither side dares to ‘jump’ the other.” Eisenhower had good reasons to endorse Humphrey's idea. It would solve a number of strategic problems for him and gain great favor among his allies. It would simply codify in principle the practical workings of the New Look. Moreover, he had already confessed publicly that co-existence was all he could hope to achieve.
But he rejected Humphrey’s suggestion with several revealing objections. “The President commented that if and when you should decide on a policy of drawing a defensive line beyond which you tell the enemy he cannot step without risking a clash, you automatically give the initiative to the enemy to seize whatever falls short of the defensive line. For this reason he had always rejected the concept of linedrawing.” This was not quite precise. In fact, his grand strategy depended on drawing a line that clearly defined the geopolitical balance of power. What he rejected was publicly admitting that he had drawn a line and allowing any appearance that the enemy could move the line at will.
The apocalyptic element in Eisenhower's discourse
required a vision of the enemy as innately dynamic, always threatening to
trigger total war, yet paradoxically contained by the threat of total war. However, he saw no escape from this perilous
situation: “The President pointed out
that every locality in the world is a source of irritation if you are dealing
with Communists. There would be no
chance whatever of removing irritations unless we were prepared to get off the
earth.” In Eisenhower’s discourse, the
line where the “free world” met its enemy was treated as a single sensitive
membrane. Movement anywhere along the
line had to be interpreted as a prelude to global catastrophe. For example, when Humphrey suggested that the
Even a staunch cold warrior could hold a more
pragmatic view, as Humphrey demonstrated.
When Eisenhower refused to take the more pragmatic course, he showed
that his own discursive structure held compelling power over his practical
judgment. The strategy of apocalypse
management made no sense unless there were an impending apocalypse to
manage. The threat of apocalyptic war
would soon grow hollow, Eisenhower knew, because a balance in military power,
like the geopolitical balance, would soon be inevitable. The only way to prevent the
But this policy decision would destroy the “free
world” coalition that the war would be fought to preserve. “We cannot hope to get the continued support
of public opinion in the free world if we always say ‘no’ to any suggestions
that we negotiate with the
Yet Eisenhower had to deny these contradictions, for they grew out of the fundamental contradiction between containment and apocalyptic victory, both of which he wanted to embrace in the same discursive paradigm. After hearing all sides in open debate, “he once again repeated his inability to detect basic policy differences among the Council members, and added that what we’ve really been talking was not policy but operation.…The U.S. did not need more aggressive security policies, but rather more intelligent execution of those already on the books—better courses of action.” The policy was to keep a firm line between the two blocs; exactly where that line should be drawn, or how and when it should be allowed to move, was relegated to the secondary realm of “operation” or “courses of action.” In effect, Eisenhower redefined both Humphrey’s balance-of-power proposal and the JCS’ rollback policy as merely two operational methods by which containment might be pursued. This was his way of evading the JCS’ challenge. He merely folded their dynamic language into his larger commitment to stasis. Certainly he was playing a political game, trying to hold together the competing elements of his administration. But he was also remaining true to his own discursive ways.
The resulting ambiguity was embedded in the final text
of the revised policy statement, NSC 5501, which could not decide between an
endless balance of power and an impending final resolution of the
struggle. It saw the
Eisenhower's ultimate comment on the whole reconsideration of policy was that “as so often, we had come round in a circle and come back to the same place.” However contradictory, it was the place he wanted to be. Perhaps it was the only place he could be. He was articulating very perceptively (though unwittingly) the subtle blending of traditions that made up the New Look, using apocalyptic language to preserve a stasis that would stave off genuinely apocalyptic change.
In September, 1954, the People's Republic of
When the Chinese began shelling Quemoy and
Most Americans would support his strong stand, the
president believed, for "there was hardly a word which the people of this
country feared more than the term '
Sometimes his critics were far from pacifist,
however. At a January, 1955, NSC meeting
Treasury Secretary George Humphrey argued strenuously that stability required
no commitment to protecting the offshore islands. Eisenhower responded that the Chinese
Communists “were after
Dulles explained the new pattern to the NSC. The distinction between fighting wars and
being at peace, once taken for granted, no longer held good: "Now we were trying to educate people to
face the fact that we need a strong military establishment if we hope to maintain
the peace. It was a difficult and novel
thing to most people to realize that the will and ability to fight for vital
things is really indispensable to maintenance of peace." Eisenhower fully shared that view. "We must show no lack of firmness in a
world where our political enemies exploit every sign of weakness," he told
the NSC. When Robert Cutler argued that
Eisenhower relied on symbolic words to keep the line
firm. The most crucial words were
commitments to Chiang Kai-Shek and his followers, believable enough to keep
Formosa firmly embedded in the “island barrier” that held back communism. Indeed, the entire eight-month controversy
was, from the
The risk was inherent in Eisenhower's strategy and discursive structure. Nuclear threats could easily force him to choose between hot war and revealing his threats to be hollow. Either one would take him further from his goal. Within his discursive framework, though, there seemed no way to avoid the choice. “He fully realizes that this could lead to war,” James Hagerty wrote in late January. Indeed on one occasion the president burst out to Hagerty, “Sometimes I think it would be best all around to go after them right now without letting them pick their time and the place of their own choosing.” A war with the PRC, once started, would have to be fought through to the end, the president told the NSC. "He was firmly opposed to any holding back like we did in Korea.…We would also have to say that we would oppose any Communist advances in the rest of the world. He reiterated that the islands were only important psychologically."
For psychological and discursive reasons, then, he
would globalize the conflict: "When
we talk of general war with Communist China, what we mean is general war with
By March, Eisenhower and his top aides were discussing plans for war, although he did not expect the Soviets to be spoiling for a fight. “They’re not ready for war and they know it,” he explained to Hagerty and Andrew Goodpaster. “They also know if they go to war, they’re going to end up losing everything they have.” The more influence the Soviet military had, he continued, the less likely an attack: “If you’re in the military and you know about these terrible destructive weapons, it tends to make you more pacifistic than you normally have been.“
Despite his own long career of military service, though, the president was prepared to go to war to defend the islands, even if it would “require the use of atomic missiles.” Indeed, according to Hagerty, he and his top advisors agreed on the importance of “deliberately impressing our enemies that these weapons were now conventional usage in our armed services.” Eisenhower did this most famously at a press conference, when he announced that he would use his nuclear weapons “exactly as you would use a bullet or anything else.” He may have been hoping that his words would force the Chinese to back off before matters reached such a head. But he was announcing the actual policy he intended to follow if they did not back off.
Eisenhower added an important qualification: he would not use nuclear weapons as you would use a bullet unless he was sure that he was “operating against merely military targets.” According to Dulles, the president wanted him to say publicly “that we would use atomic weapons as interchangeable with the conventional weapons. This did not, of course, mean weapons of mass destruction.” The two discussed “the importance of education with reference to the distinction between atomic missiles for tactical purposes and the big bomb with huge radioactive fall-outs. The President mentioned that our own troops were maneuvering very close to areas where atomic missiles were used.” From the context, it would seem that the president mentioned this as evidence that the effects of atomic weapons could be limited to a very small circle. Dulles assured Walter George, chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, that this was so: "The missiles we had in mind had practically no radioactive fall-out and were entirely local in effect." This illusion (which they may very well have believed) made it easier for Eisenhower and Dulles to brandish both the threat and the actuality of nuclear use as symbolic gestures.
When the Chinese began shelling the islands, Eisenhower
told Beetle Smith that, whatever his response, he would certainly allow
"no possibility of driving a wedge between ourselves and our principal
European allies, especially
Therein lay a serious problem. None of the major
Yet Eisenhower's whole approach was based on the
premise that unless he promised to defend the islands, he would drive an even
larger wedge between the
Eisenhower never did find that perfect balance. In fact he was never sure exactly where to
look for it. “We have got to do what we
believe to be right," he told both Gruenther and Winston Churchill,
"if we can figure out the right."
"The President said [to the NSC] that of course he was willing to
go to any lengths to defend the vital interests of the
This was a serious blow to the administration's grand strategy, which rested on a hope of overarching control. Eisenhower and Dulles tried to turn their lack of control into a virtue. They hoped that what James Reston called "calculated imprecision" and ambiguity would mask their intentions from the enemy. This, in turn, would give them enough leverage that they would never have to decide whether to use their nuclear weapons. Robert Divine sums up the approving judgment of some historians: “The beauty of Eisenhower’s policy is that to this day no one can be sure whether or not he would have responded militarily to an invasion of the offshore islands.”
By late January, however, Dulles had to admit that the
policy of imprecision had “begun to backfire." Certainty was becoming as necessary as it was
dangerous, for only a firm declaration of intentions would keep up morale on
Soon enough the administration had to shift and
contradict itself again, because its goals were so shifting and
contradictory. Eisenhower sent secret
assurances to Chang Kai-Shek that the
As European support evaporated, Eisenhower began looking for a graceful way to abandon the islands and his promise to Chiang Kai-Shek. (At a meeting with legislative leaders he muttered, “Those damned little offshore islands. Sometimes I wish they’d sink.”) He hoped to persuade Chiang to defend the islands only temporarily, in a heroic last stand. Chiang refused. The president would soon have to decide whether to let the intransigence of the Taiwanese leaders drive the world to war.
In the end, he was spared that ultimate test. In late April, the PRC unexpectedly ceased
its shelling and offered to negotiate a settlement. This denouement freed Eisenhower from
revealing his ultimate priorities, if indeed he knew what they were. As H. W. Brands points out, throughout the
debate on the
The whole affair did force the president to
acknowledge a significant change in his vision of apocalypse management. Throughout the
Indeed, movement in the line could be turned to
The administration also had to be willing to go to war if instability ever portended a total loss of control. The president's military code dictated that he restrain not only the enemy, but also his own feelings, for the sake of performing his duty in service to his country. The two forms of restraint naturally reinforced each other; in Eisenhower's discourse, there was no essential difference between them. So whatever fears the “new weapons” may have aroused in him, they had no visible impact on the making of policy. From early 1954 to the spring of 1955, he developed no new patterns of discourse or policy to fit the new empirical reality. The peril was still the multifaceted apocalyptic threat of communist expansion, capitalist internal collapse, and global war.
By the spring of 1955, though, each of these had taken
on a more specific form for administration policy planners. Communist expansion now threatened
In one sense, the bomb was still unique: it alone of all the varieties of threat could
also be seen as a protection against threat.
Clinging to the bomb as a solution to the problems it simultaneously
exacerbated, Eisenhower intensified the air of crisis that had spawned his
grand strategy. The moratorium
controversy, the fallout controversy, the administration's internal conflicts,
Indochina, and the Formosa Straits crisis all helped to press home the lesson
It was becoming increasingly evident, however, that
strength could not be exerted in one decisive thrust, nor through one smoothly
coordinated strategic plan. It would
have to be deployed in disconnected and often mutually contradictory bursts,
over an unpredictably long haul. The
conflicts in Indochina and the
And the crises were sure to continue coming. Once Eisenhower admitted that the line of containment was flexible, he was even more likely to see the communist threat as endless and apocalyptic. Security, stability, peace, and victory were all now defined as a single process of plugging up leaks in the dike of containment. The bomb, as reality and as symbol, was the plug Eisenhower would constantly attempt to insert. Yet every plug only increased the pressure in another part of the dike. As he himself stated: “Every favorable point is balanced by something that doesn’t look too favorable.” Thus the administration condemned itself to being constantly on the defensive. By the spring of 1955, the president and his advisors had accepted this instability as an intrinsic principle of their policy. Restraint became an ongoing process. Yet restraint could be a meaningful goal only as long as the enemy was inherently dynamic and therefore increasingly dangerous. Defining his problems in his familiar pattern of discourse, the only solution he could offer was a more clear and certain commitment to endless apocalypse management.
As world events slipped out of control and policy
shifts became more likely, the administration continued to worry about American
public opinion. NSC 5501 made emotion
management an official policy: "During
a time of increasing Soviet atomic power, the determination of
In early 1955, with the Congressional race over and
the allies agreed on a formula for rearming
Eisenhower wanted the public to see peril in the Formosa Straits, too. The Pacific island chain was “the geographical backbone” of the “free world” security structure, he explained, “the principal feature of our whole protective system in the region.” The shelling of the offshore islands was "a serious danger…to the peace of the world." Could it lead to war? He would only say cryptically: "We are living in a time when it would be foolish to say that it is characterized by normal serenity.…Consequently, there is greater vigilance required of us, greater concern." The obscurity of these words was calculated. Not knowing what his policy would be, he wanted to have public opinion with him whichever way he turned.
Most importantly, if war did come, Eisenhower was determined to have the freedom to use nuclear weapons. And he linked this directly to the unpredictability of the situation: “When you resort to force as the arbiter of human difficulty, you don't know where you are going; but generally speaking, if you get deeper and deeper, there is just no limit except what is imposed by the limitations of force itself.…You can draw no sharp line between tactical use of atomic weapons and strategic use." After repeating that there was "no reason why a large explosion shouldn't be used as freely as a small explosion," he added: "Every war is going to astonish you in the way it occurred, and in the way it is carried out."
Many historians have accepted Eisenhower's own explanation for announcing his intention to use weapons: he was using these threats to control Chinese behavior, hoping to prevent both communist expansion and actual use of the bomb. But his strategy of apocalypse management depended just as much on controlling domestic public opinion. He was encouraging the public to accept the risk of global war; to trust their government to act always in their best interests; to live bravely, calmly, and faithfully on the brink.
As they reported on the Formosa Straits crisis, the
Fearing that any public commitment to a specific
policy would limit its freedom of action, the White House quickly moved to
dampen the war talk. It was helped by a
fortuitous coincidence. The next day,
the French Senate approved the rearming of
For a week or ten days, the question of war stirred
passions, at least in the nation’s newsrooms, if not in its barrooms and living
rooms. As Time put it: “Out of the
strategy conferences in
Other sources stuck to the more familiar mode of cold
war apocalypticism: the line to be held
was the geopolitical line protecting the “free world” against communism. Both Time
and Newsweek warned that a chain of
events might be unfolding, which no
Beneath these differences, and between the lines, the
ensemble of reporting communicated a more unified message of uncertainty,
summed up in a New York Times
headline: “New Phase—Danger—and
Hope.” Would it be peace or war? The answer remained undecidable. Beneath a headline, “PRESIDENT CALMS HOUSE
LEADERS OVER ‘WAR TALK’” the Times
This confusion left the proper course for
The Formosa Straits crisis created the nation’s first
open debate about a specific situation where nuclear weapons might be
used. It was hard to know if this crisis
posed a great or a small risk, nor was it clear exactly how the decision for
war and peace should best be made. The
brink on which the nation was poised portended not only war and communist
expansion, but, perhaps most troubling, a plunge into irrevocable discursive
confusion. Yet two points seemed
clear: An absolute geopolitical line
separated the “free world” from communism, and an absolute discursive line
separated war from peace. These two
points of certainty, set against all the troubling uncertainties, created a
third kind of line—between certainty and uncertainty, between clarity and
confusion. In public discourse, the three
sets of dividing lines were superimposed upon each other. The resulting multi-dimensional line was
depicted as the brink of catastrophe.
Peace, as the media presented it, meant keeping war away from the
The press made the president the symbol of clarity,
just as he was the symbol of peace and the freedom of the “free world.” Ultimately, readers learned, he alone would
safeguard these values. As Newsweek explained: “The final decision of what do and how to do
it was up to Mr. Eisenhower himself.…President Eisenhower will have a free hand
to do what he thinks best.” Some may
have agreed with the Christian Science
Monitor that “the stakes are too vast for one man to decide alone.” “It is a truly phenomenal fact,” Joseph C.
Harsch wrote on the Monitor’s front
page, “that the citizens of the
The way the press reported the whole affair surely enhanced the public’s faith. A Times headline summed up the common wisdom: “PRESIDENT CALMS HOUSE LEADERS OVER ‘WAR TALK’; NO DECISION ON QUEMOY; Eisenhower Indicates He Will Handle Any Future Crises.” A cartoon in the San Francisco Chronicle showed Admiral Carney wearing a terrifying mask labeled “War in April,” scaring an “average American,” with a smiling Eisenhower coming along saying, “Relax, I’ll take care of him!” Set next to an editorial titled, “War Talk Serves None But Enemy,” it made the point quite graphically.
“There is a cold war on here for the mind of the
President,” Doris Fleeson reported from
Since conciliatory words and actions from
The Formosa Straits crisis forced the public to consider, for the first time, whether it really wanted to fight the final battle to defeat communism. The answer, as mediated through the press, was: “Probably not.” So the nation learned to accept a new kind of war in which victory was not a singular event but a continuing process of fending off recurring dangers. The media took the occasion to create an image of a whole nation reaffirming its collective commitment to this unending process. It was virtually a ritual occasion, a celebration of an image and an ideology that were meant to be taken as unquestionable truth.
Most importantly, perhaps, it was another chance to
affirm that this new kind of war, with its new kind of victory, was also the
new way to pursue peace. For a reader of
The equation victory = peace = stability remained unquestioned. The media never questioned the need for some line between the “free world” and the communist bloc, nor the need for absolutely firm resolve in maintaining that line. But the Formosa Straits crisis made it legitimate, for the first time, to debate publicly the exact position of the line. In public discourse, stability became a dynamic process of defending a shifting line—a fluid global situation requiring endless shifts in policy, yet always under the control of the president and the national security managers. Peace, stability, and national security now meant an apocalypse always impending yet always under control. Yet it was evident that perfect control was not possible. Since every attempt to solve a problem created new problems, the administration could never say in advance what its policy would be.
Once this undecidable situation was made public, debate over cold war policy became inevitable and therefore legitimate. Every option could be supported with reasonable arguments that rested upon the basic cold war axioms. If geopolitical stability and stable policy commitments were no longer possible, then there could be no stable discourse either. The dream of perfect clarity had to be given up along with perfect control. There would be a greater longing for immutable stasis, more frustration over its impossibility, more blame placed on the dynamic, chaotic enemy, and thus greater fear of that enemy. The line between the two superpower blocs would become more crucial than ever precisely because it had become so publicly movable. The awareness of constant flux gave the president and the national security managers more opportunities to demonstrate control. The media encouraged the public to have faith in the president and in his administration. Journalistic reports from the field, the relative lack of public alarm, and the quick demise of the crisis as a news story all indicate that the public did have that faith. Thus the crisis effectively schooled the public in yet another vital premise of apocalypse management: the government and its national security experts had to be trusted to keep every peril at bay.
The coverage of the Formosa Straits crisis yoked together confidence and anxiety; as in every apocalyptic situation, more of one bred more of the other. But the anxiety took on positive meaning, for it was set in the larger context of hopeful faith in Eisenhower and his ability to bring the peace that would also be victory. Thus the media served his aim of keeping up the nation’s anxiety without letting that anxiety paralyze the public or turn it against the cold war project. The ultimate goal of Operation Candor had finally been achieved. In retrospect, the Formosa Straits crisis could easily be seen as just another passing event in the news. Once the story disappeared from the front pages, its very absence suggested that there was no urgency about this particular threat. It would inevitably crop up again, in some other form, somewhere else. By the spring of 1955, the public had learned to live with apocalypse management as an acceptable, taken-for-granted fact of life.
This encounter with apocalypse management was, like the policy itself, above all a verbal process. Words were deployed as symbols of the nation’s resolve to maintain stability, discursive as well as geopolitical. Public discourse included, more overtly than ever before, words about using nuclear weapons. However, the language suggested that the weapons themselves would be used in the same way as words: as symbols of the nation’s resolve and as agents of stability. The whole process was now openly admitted to be a symbolic one. National security discourse would enhance stability only at the brink of war. To stay on this route to security, the nation would have to accept the radical insecurity of the brink. Nevertheless the public agreed, with little visible dissent, to play its part faithfully.
Notes to Chapter 7
NSC, 1/5/55, FRUS
, 1955-1957, 19:
10-12. When Dulles suggested that the
official goal should be to “disrupt” rather than “neutralize” the communist
apparatus, the president approved. The
conflict between the Pentagon and State Department is well summarized in Bowie
and Immerman, Waging Peace, 169-175.
 NSC, 11/24/54, FRUS 1952-1954, 2.1: 792; NSC, 12/21/54, FRUS 1952-1954, 2.1: 832; Wampler, “Ambiguous Legacy,” 652.
 NSC, 12/21/54, FRUS 1952-1954, 2.1: 837.
Ibid., 838. Eisenhower may well have
been recalling the blame heaped on Dean Acheson for his January, 1950, speech,
which seemed to set
 Ibid., 841, 838.
 Ibid., 843; NSC 5501, 1/7/55, FRUS 1955-1957, 19: 31.
 NSC, 11/24/54, FRUS 1952-1954, 2.1: 794. Some of Eisenhower's decisions seemed specifically designed for political purposes, as when he ruled out of NSC 5501 a long sentence on U.S. commitment to avoid provoking war: NSC, 1/5/55, FRUS 1955-1957, 19: 16.
1/7/55, 1/7/55, FRUS 1955-1957,
19: 22, 31, 37.
 NSC, 12/21/54, FRUS 1955-1957, 19: 843.
9/12/54, FRUS 1952-1954, 14.1: 616; , Eisenhower told
Congressional leaders: “We have enough
naval and air strength in that territory to knock out any invasion of the
 The Diary of James C. Hagerty; .
Ferrell, The Diary of James C. Hagerty, 188. As early as November, 1954, he implied to the NSC that he doubted the wisdom of his own policy of risking war: “It was better to accept some loss of face in the world than to go to general war in the defense of these small islands": NSC, 11/2/54, FRUS, 1952-1954, 14.1: 836. See also Eisenhower to Acting Secretary of State, phone call, 9/6/54, FRUS 1952-1954, 14.1: 573; Eisenhower to Gruenther, 2/1/55, PDDE 16: 1539; Memorandum of Conversation, 1/30/55, FRUS, 1955-1957, 2: 175.
 Dulles, Memorandum of Conversation, 3/6/55, FRUS, 1955-1957, 2: 336; Ferrell, The Diary of James C. Hagerty, 211;Press Conference 1955,. See ,.
Bundy, Danger and Survival, 255; Memorandum of Conversation, 3/6/55, FRUS 1955-1957, 2: 336; Memorandum of Conversation with the President, Sunday, March 6, 1955, 3/7/55, John Foster Dulles Papers, White House Memoranda Series, Box 3, “Meetings with the President 1955 (6)”; Memorandum of Conversation, 3/7/55, FRUS 1952-1954, 2.1: 337.
 Eisenhower to Acting Secretary of State, 9/8/54, FRUS 1952-1954, 14.1: 577; Cutler Memorandum, 3/11/55, FRUS 1955-1957, 2: 359; Dulles Memorandum of Conversation with the President , 10:30 am, 3/7/55, John Foster Dulles Papers, White House Memoranda Series, Box 3, “Meetings with the President 1955 (7).”
 Brands, “The Age of Vulnerability,” 984.
Churchill to Eisenhower, 6/10/54, in Boyle, The
Churchill – Eisenhower Correspondence, 144.
 Press Conference
 , Press Conference
 Christian Science Monitor, 3/22/55, 20; NYT, 3/26/55, 1.
 NYT, 3/29/55, 1; Newsweek, 4/5/55, 21. In a diary entry, Eisenhower noted the publicity given the alarmist remarks of some of his aides: “I believe hostilities are not so imminent. I have so often been through these periods of strain that I have become accustomed to the fact that most of the calamities that we anticipate really never occur.” This often-quoted sentence was quite atypical. It is hard to know just what it meant, because it was an incomplete thought. As Ann Whitman added at the entry’s end, “President had not a chance to finish this”: diary, 3/26/55, PDDE, 16: 1636.
Time, 4/5/55, 13; San Francisco Chronicle, 3/26/55, 1;
SLPD, 3/29/55, 2C; NYT, 3/27/55, 4: 10.
A James Reston column was headlined:
“The Darkness is Coming On in the
Time, 4/11/55, 22; Newsweek, 4/5/55, 44; Life, 4/5/55, 40. Life
told its readers that Pentagon and State Department authorities were “united in
the conclusion that the
 NYT, 3/27/55, IV: 1; NYT, 3/31/55, 1; Newsweek, 4/5/55, 23.
 SLPD, 3/31/55, 1C ; NYT, 4/3/55, IV: 1; Christian Science Monitor, 3/30/55, 20. A series of editorial cartoons from around the country, gathered on one page in the Times’ “News of the Week in Review,” all shared a common theme: the administration was in a difficult spot, confused and unsure of its next move: NYT, 4/3/55, IV: 5. On public concern, compare the stories in NYT, 4/1/55, 26 and NYT, 4/5/55, IV: 5.
 Newsweek, 4/5/55, 23, 21; Christian Science Monitor, 4/2/55, 1; Christian Science Monitor, 3/30/55, 1; Time, 4/11/55, 21; Newsweek, 4/11/55, 32.
 NYT, 3/31/55, 1; San Francisco Chronicle, 3/31/55, 24.
 SLPD, 3/31/55, 1C; Christian Science Monitor, 3/26/55, 1.
 Newsweek, 4/5/55, 23; Time, 4/11/55, 22; NSC, 11/2/54, FRUS 1952-54, 14.1: 836.