The American Spectator

p> em>And the crabs are crazy, they scuttle back and forth, br> The sand is burning br> And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight, br> their courses turning br> As the seagulls rest on the cold cannon nest br> the sea is churning. br> The marines have landed on the shores of Santo Domingo. /em> br> — Phil Ochs (1965) /p>

The sages of the Torah say that one does not really understand an experience until after 40 years. That would make today opportune time for reviewing the April 28, 1965 airlift of 400 U.S. Marines into the riot-torn capital of the Dominican Republic. If the “before” era of American tranquility really ended at that more notorious demarcation on November 22, 1963, then you could say that “after” era began here, fifteen months later.

The Dominican situation was an abrupt, volatile crisis that President Lyndon Johnson knew he could not afford to lose. The CIA had again ill-served the President by not anticipating that the impending local coup could deteriorate in a single day into widespread rioting, looting, and civil war. Immediately, Johnson was responsible for the contingent of civilians and diplomats. Even more ominously, he was at risk of being the next president to lose a Caribbean island to the Communists, making his global foreign policy infinitely more complex and his political prospects at home downright poisonous.

The successful American intervention proved instantly unpopular. Assailed for recklessness by fellow OAS members, the American press and important members of Congress, LBJ knew he had to act quickly. Micromanaged, our armed forces still managed in a matter of weeks to defuse the situation and restore a semblance of order.

On the American campus, JFK’s cold warrior persona was forgotten, while Johnson’s actions defined him as a different (bad) kind of Democrat. At Berkeley, where the “Free Speech Movement” was barely a year old, the invasion provided living proof of the ominous military-industrial establishment. Troubadours like Joan Baez and Phil Ochs journeyed there in its wake, employing the medium of folk music to define not just an alternative political point of view, but an alternative culture.