After shock zealot

Trust not in princes, is sound advice. Trust not in biographers is a pretty good tip too

Trust not in princes, is sound advice. Trust not in biographers is a pretty good tip too. Publishers adore manuscripts that debunk revered figures and the more lacerating they are, the better for profit margins.

But there aren't many good targets left and the last place you'd look for one is among politicians who, after all, are duty-bound to be a shifty bunch. They cut deals, keep their ears to the ground and adjust their views to fit the fickle tide of events. A twinge of conscience may creep into their infernal calculations but any politician would be loony to let conscience alone be their guide. Still, the rare public drama erupts when savvy politicians find themselves forced to enact their ideals in a hostile climate. When has that ever happened, you ask? Well, what about Bobby Kennedy?

Ronald Steel, author of several splendid inquiries into American politics, aims to demolish the "legend" of Robert F. Kennedy. The alleged legend is that in the 1960s, at the vitriolic height of domestic conflict over race, poverty and Vietnam, Bobby morphed from his role as ruthless "enforcer" in JFK's administration to that of compassionate statesman and, potentially, national healer until Sirhan Sirhan's bullets shattered everything.

Bobby Kennedy's 1968 presidential run looks like the last flickering moment when a politician was poised to build a potent coalition bridging black and white, affluent and poor, and young and old. Steel airily dismisses this prospect as nothing but "wishful thinking, misperception, and spin doctoring" by nostalgic fans. Indeed, Steel approaches Bobby as if he were a shiny icon before whom legions of disciples lit candles nightly. (That's JFK, actually.) Steel argues that Bobby was neither champion of the deprived nor friend of the working class nor sincere opponent of the obscene Vietnam war - and, besides, he had no chance to be elected. All this is familiar but highly speculative stuff.

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Bobby, unlike his suave older brother, harboured a deep, if occasionally misplaced, moral zeal. After a seamy stint with redhunter Joe McCarthy, racketeering investigations, and managing JFK's presidential bid, he served as Attorney General when he might well be reproached for his wobbly support for civil rights, antagonism toward Castro, and glee at counter-insurgency escapades in Asia. But JFK's assassination shook him to the core, as did his first-hand glimpses into poverty and bigotry at home and abroad. Bobby's transformation, Steel concedes, was striking. Elected Senator in New York in 1964, Bobby, who knew how power really worked in America's darkest recesses, set out to forge ties with the poor, minorities, antiwar groups, and disaffected Democrats.

Steel's skepticism is prudent but his portrayal is often wrong. Kennedy's Vietnam stance, Steel says, did not differ much from Nixon. Yet Bobby was the only official who confessed he had been wrong about Vietnam and in 1966 - when the American public was hawkish - called for a negotiated settlement, including the Viet Cong. If Nixon said anything similar, historians missed it. Contrary to Steel's belief that Kennedy disdained state intervention, he pushed legislation to revive the ebbing war on poverty. Every move Bobby made is construed as motivated by his machiavellian ambition to dislodge President Johnson, but Kennedy also felt boxed in by accusations of party disloyalty and it hampered his presidential bid, which accordingly came late (and understandably incensed Eugene McCarthy and his followers).

Steel is absolutely right that idolising leaders demeans democracy, but his book misses the whole point of Kennedy's candidacy. Bobby Kennedy articulated a genuine grass roots opposition. He also tried to embrace resentful white ethnics by offering an economic populist program that improved their lives and he only needed to win over a goodly few to be electable. Who knows? What RFK embodied was the fleeting prospect that the "system might work" for the majority who lack thick stock portfolios. That is the way a healthy democracy operates - or is supposed to, anyway.

This book is available through Internet bookstores.

Kurt Jacobsen is a research associate at the Univerity of Chicago. His latest book, Technical Fouls, is due in August.