FRIDAY, JANUARY
20, 1961
[Transcriber's
note: Heavy snow fell the night before the inauguration, but thoughts about
cancelling the plans were overruled. The election of 1960 had been close, and
the Democratic Senator from Massachusetts was eager to gather support for his
agenda. He attended Holy Trinity Catholic Church in Georgetown that morning
before joining President Eisenhower to travel to the Capitol. The Congress had
extended the East Front, and the inaugural platform spanned the new addition.
The oath of office was administered by Chief Justice Earl Warren. Robert Frost
read one of his poems at the ceremony.]
Vice President Johnson, Mr. Speaker, Mr. Chief Justice,
President Eisenhower, Vice President Nixon, President Truman, reverend clergy,
fellow citizens, we observe today not a victory of party, but a celebration of
freedom—symbolizing an end, as well as a beginning—signifying renewal, as well
as change. For I have sworn before you and Almighty God the same solemn oath
our forebears prescribed nearly a century and three quarters ago.
The world is very different now. For man holds in his
mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty and all forms of
human life. And yet the same revolutionary beliefs for which our forebears
fought are still at issue around the globe—the belief that the rights of man
come not from the generosity of the state, but from the hand of God.
We dare not forget today that we are the heirs of that
first revolution. Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and
foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans—born
in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud
of our ancient heritage—and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of
those human rights to which this Nation has always been committed, and to which
we are committed today at home and around the world.
Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill,
that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any
friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and the success of
liberty.
This much we pledge—and more.
To those old allies whose cultural and spiritual origins
we share, we pledge the loyalty of faithful friends. United, there is little we
cannot do in a host of cooperative ventures. Divided, there is little we can
do—for we dare not meet a powerful challenge at odds and split asunder.
To those new States whom we welcome to the ranks of the
free, we pledge our word that one form of colonial control shall not have
passed away merely to be replaced by a far more iron tyranny. We shall not
always expect to find them supporting our view. But we shall always hope to
find them strongly supporting their own freedom—and to remember that, in the
past, those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up
inside.
To those peoples in the huts and villages across the
globe struggling to break the bonds of mass misery, we pledge our best efforts
to help them help themselves, for whatever period is required—not because the
Communists may be doing it, not because we seek their votes, but because it is
right. If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the
few who are rich.
To our sister republics south of our border, we offer a
special pledge—to convert our good words into good deeds—in a new alliance for
progress—to assist free men and free governments in casting off the chains of
poverty. But this peaceful revolution of hope cannot become the prey of hostile
powers. Let all our neighbors know that we shall join with them to oppose
aggression or subversion anywhere in the Americas. And let every other power
know that this Hemisphere intends to remain the master of its own house.
To that world assembly of sovereign states, the United
Nations, our last best hope in an age where the instruments of war have far
outpaced the instruments of peace, we renew our pledge of support—to prevent it
from becoming merely a forum for invective—to strengthen its shield of the new
and the weak—and to enlarge the area in which its writ may run.
Finally, to those nations who would make themselves our
adversary, we offer not a pledge but a request: that both sides begin anew the
quest for peace, before the dark powers of destruction unleashed by science
engulf all humanity in planned or accidental self-destruction.
We dare not tempt them with weakness. For only when our
arms are sufficient beyond doubt can we be certain beyond doubt that they will
never be employed.
But neither can two great and powerful groups of nations
take comfort from our present course—both sides overburdened by the cost of
modern weapons, both rightly alarmed by the steady spread of the deadly atom,
yet both racing to alter that uncertain balance of terror that stays the hand
of mankind's final war.
So let us begin anew—remembering on both sides that
civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof.
Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.
Let both sides explore what problems unite us instead of
belaboring those problems which divide us.
Let both sides, for the first time, formulate serious and
precise proposals for the inspection and control of arms—and bring the absolute
power to destroy other nations under the absolute control of all nations.
Let both sides seek to invoke the wonders of science
instead of its terrors. Together let us explore the stars, conquer the deserts,
eradicate disease, tap the ocean depths, and encourage the arts and commerce.
Let both sides unite to heed in all corners of the earth
the command of Isaiah—to "undo the heavy burdens...and to let the
oppressed go free."
And if a beachhead of cooperation may push back the
jungle of suspicion, let both sides join in creating a new endeavor, not a new
balance of power, but a new world of law, where the strong are just and the
weak secure and the peace preserved.
All this will not be finished in the first 100 days. Nor
will it be finished in the first 1,000 days, nor in the life of this
Administration, nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin.
In your hands, my fellow citizens, more than in mine,
will rest the final success or failure of our course. Since this country was
founded, each generation of Americans has been summoned to give testimony to
its national loyalty. The graves of young Americans who answered the call to
service surround the globe.
Now the trumpet summons us again—not as a call to bear
arms, though arms we need; not as a call to battle, though embattled we are—but
a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out,
"rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation"—a struggle against the
common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease, and war itself.
Can we forge against these enemies a grand and global
alliance, North and South, East and West, that can assure a more fruitful life
for all mankind? Will you join in that historic effort?
In the long history of the world, only a few generations
have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger.
I do not shrink from this responsibility—I welcome it. I do not believe that
any of us would exchange places with any other people or any other generation.
The energy, the faith, the devotion which we bring to this endeavor will light
our country and all who serve it—and the glow from that fire can truly light
the world.
And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country
can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.
My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America
will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.
Finally, whether you are citizens of America or citizens
of the world, ask of us the same high standards of strength and sacrifice which
we ask of you. With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the
final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His
blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God's work must truly be
our own.