(This blog was written on the anniversary of Kennedy’s assassination, except for the last paragraph which I added today. Like everybody else who lived through that day, I remember the time, the place, and the moment’s impact. Putting that moment into perspective is a unique exercise for each of us. Though I may disagree with other perspectives, I respect them and offer my own, with due regard for my own limitations.)

“We can never reclaim our innocence. But can we reclaim our faith in government?” This was the question put by a TV pundit today, on the anniversary of John F. Kennedy’s death. Was she using hyperbole, making a statement of fact, or merely attempting a transition to the next segment?

Well, her words did serve as segue to her next storyline. But, more to the point, do they reflect history–did America lose its innocence on that fateful day of JFK’s assassination? Many serious analysts and historians have described it as “the day we lost our innocence,” especially in view of subsequent assassinations and the concurrent tragedies of the Vietnam War and the outbreak of racial violence. But I do not accept their thesis. How can a country hold itself innocent of the Dresden and Tokyo fire-bombing or of the obliteration of two urban civilian centers by means of atomic bombs? Even the commanders of our final assault on the Japanese mainland feared that they would be subject to war crimes. Their self-admission was not that of innocents. Certainly it’s true that America was drawn into the two World Wars and was not an instigator in either. At the same time, there are no innocents in war. We Americans obliterated our enemies willfully and with “malice aforethought.” One of the ambiguities of war is this issue of culpability. A “just” war, a “defensive” war, or a war of “liberation” is how we cover the horror of war and escape the guilt for what we feel impelled to do in war’s behalf. Our supposed “innocence” is just a way of dealing with culpability. It was not innocence we lost with Kennedy’s assassination. The culpable can never lose their innocence, just the illusion of innocence.

Did we lose faith in our government on that fateful day 50 years ago? My parents, having lived through the Great Depression and World War II, certainly believed that government could deliver us from economic disaster and from foreign threats. The Phoenix-like emergence of America after the war held great promise for all Americans. People were getting college degrees, building new lives, buying homes, and raising families with the expectation that the next generation would benefit even more. We believed in ourselves and our ability to overcome anything: we were invulnerable. But, at the same time, children were diving under their school desks in monthly bomb drills, Senator McCarthy was conducting communist witch hunts in Congress, and our military was actively preparing for World War III. Behind the illusion of peace and prosperity was the reality of fear. The President’s assassination shattered this illusion. The President who almost single-handedly saved us from a nuclear holocaust was killed by a lone gunman. Americans sat in their living rooms and witnessed his gruesome murder and the horrific image of his beautiful wife bespattered with his blood. These were not the images of Camelot, but of a nightmare: we were confronted with our vulnerability. If our President could be gunned down before our eyes, perhaps our invincibility could be in doubt and our faith in the government’s ability to protect us might be shaken. Fear, after all, is contagious.

Life in the 20th century should have given rise to fear. When in history have more of us been slaughtered by our brothers and sisters in humanity? The temptation to withdraw into a cocoon of material comforts and consumerism is too enticing. Likewise, it’s too easy to play into the hands of politicians who promise to secure our material well-being and protect us from all harm in exchange for electing them. On the other hand, the 1960s did give rise to landmark social legislation, demonstrating our government’s ability to provide for the “general welfare” promised in our Constitution. Our current disaffection with Washington politics has not always been the case. Perhaps the problem is not with our faith in government, but with those who govern. That problem is on us, the electorate.

As Americans, we need to face our fears and accept responsibility for the way things are. We did not lose our innocence or our faith in government on that fateful day 50 years ago. But we did receive a wake-up call. The American dream is in fact a dream. It is up to us to define it and make it a reality. John F. Kennedy spoke of a “new frontier” and challenged us to consider what “you can do for your country.” His death was never about loss of innocence or of faith in government, but about the challenge his death left unfulfilled in his personal life—a challenge that still rests on each of us to fulfill.