A Love Affair Begins

Tuesday the American electorate will go to the polls for what may be the most crucial Presidential election of this century. The next President faces an immense load of unsolved international and domestic problems, and upon the way he handles these problems rests the future of this country as a free society and the future of the world as a free and peaceful planet. Because, unlike his opponent, he has demonstrated an understanding of the challenges and dangers of the Sixties; because, unlike his opponent, he has emphasized the courage and sacrifice necessary to meet those challenges; and because, unlike his opponent, he has given promise of initiative and constructive action, the Crimson strongly endorses Senator John F. Kennedy for President of the United States.

Those who say that this election affords little real choice are making a grave mistake. The choice is a real and important one, and for those who find much to disturb them both at home and abroad, it is an obvious one.

The choice is, as Senator Kennedy has said, between two philosophies of government, if non-government can be called a philosophy. The Republicans offer a government that speaks only when spoken to; whose method of operation is that of reaction to stimuli; whose policy toward strangers is to set up a Neighborhood Protection Association; whose policy toward enemies is to slap and howl when stung and to exchange insult for insult; whose policy at home is to throw the dogs a crumb when their barking becomes too loud. The Democrats, on the other hand, offer the promise of systematic programs to meet the needs that eight years of non-government have neglected.

In foreign policy, there is a need for something more than reaction to Soviet stimuli, more than an American slap for every Russian slap, and more than ineffective crash programs when the State years have been prosperous ones, and no doubt life on the upper levels of American society is as comfortable as it has ever been. Yet these facts remain, much as Mr. Nixon would like to hide them:

Millions of Americans (it doesn't matter whether it is 10 or 15 or 20 millions) "go to bed hungry every night," while the farm surplus continues to grow.

Despite the efforts of a few mayors, most major cities are losing the battle against the slum problem, with Federal aid spotty and almost wholly inadequate.

Children all over the country go to school on double sessions; the teacher shortage is great and likely to become greater; a college education remains financially inaccessible to many qualified students. "Poor schools," as J.K. Galbraith says, "are, after all, cheap."

Many of the nation's aged must turn to charity--public or private--to pay for their medical needs; the country is not training enough doctors for projected future requirements.

Almost six million people are unemployed, with all sorts of public work that needs to be done. Meanwhile, the steel industry operates at little more than fifty per cent of capacity, and the automobile industry turns out products that drink gasoline and are designed to become obsolete a year after manufacture.

Clearly, the system is out of joint, and neither Mr. Nixon's statistics nor Life's bright photographs can prove otherwise. Eight years of Eisenhower non-government have left an imposing backlog of business unfinished or never begun, and Mr. Nixon seeks to forestall any real action now with the shibboleth of "state and local initiative" and the bogeymen of "socialized medicine" and "Federal control of education." He points with pride to statistics showing Republican accomplishments in, for instance, school and hospital construction.