The Courage of a President: JFK’s Invocation of Ancient Wisdom
The quote “Be strong and of good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed” carries profound weight when attributed to John F. Kennedy, though it’s important to note that these words originate from the Book of Joshua in the Bible, specifically Joshua 1:9. Kennedy, however, drew upon this ancient wisdom repeatedly throughout his presidency, particularly during moments of national crisis. While Kennedy didn’t originate the phrase, he internalized and channeled it through his own rhetoric, making it emblematic of his approach to leadership during the tumultuous early 1960s. The president invoked this sentiment during some of America’s most perilous moments—the Cuban Missile Crisis, the construction of the Berlin Wall, and the early escalation in Vietnam. For Kennedy, these biblical words represented not merely religious comfort but a practical philosophy of action in the face of existential threat.
John Fitzgerald Kennedy’s relationship with courage was shaped fundamentally by his biography. Born into one of America’s wealthiest and most politically connected families in 1917, Kennedy might have seemed insulated from hardship, yet his life was marked by persistent physical suffering that the public largely did not know about during his presidency. From childhood, Kennedy battled Addison’s disease, a serious autoimmune disorder affecting the adrenal glands, along with chronic back pain so severe it confined him to bed for extended periods. He also suffered from colitis and numerous other ailments, conditions he managed with a cocktail of medications administered by his personal physician, Dr. Janet Travell. Most Americans who voted for Kennedy in 1960 were unaware of the extent of his physical infirmities, which makes his emphasis on courage and strength all the more resonant—he was literally embodying the very virtue he asked of his nation.
The context surrounding Kennedy’s invocation of this biblical exhortation was uniquely demanding. When he assumed office on January 20, 1961, the Cold War had reached a dangerous inflection point. The Soviet Union had launched Sputnik, seeming to win the space race, and Communist expansion threatened in Southeast Asia and Latin America. Kennedy’s inaugural address—delivered in frigid conditions to an enormous crowd—struck the famous note that Americans should “ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” This statement of mutual responsibility and sacrifice echoed the same spirit as the courage he demanded. Just three months into his presidency, the Bay of Pigs invasion, a CIA-backed attempt to overthrow Fidel Castro in Cuba, ended in humiliating failure, forcing Kennedy to confront the complexities of power and the limits of American might. Yet rather than retreat into isolationism or panic, Kennedy doubled down on his philosophy of facing challenges directly and with determination.
The Cuban Missile Crisis in October 1962 represents perhaps the closest Kennedy came to embodying the exhortation to “be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed,” even as the world teetered on the brink of nuclear annihilation. When American reconnaissance discovered Soviet missiles being installed in Cuba, just 90 miles from American shores, Kennedy faced an unprecedented dilemma: launch a preemptive strike and risk global thermonuclear war, or attempt diplomacy while appearing weak. For thirteen days, the world held its breath as Kennedy and his advisors—the so-called ExComm group—debated options. Kennedy’s famous calm demeanor during this period, his refusal to panic despite the enormity of stakes, and his ultimate choice of a naval blockade and diplomatic negotiation reflected someone genuinely attempting to embody strength without recklessness. He spoke to the nation from the Oval Office, his voice measured and resolute, calling Americans to steadiness even as the possibility of nuclear exchange seemed tangible.
A lesser-known aspect of Kennedy’s character that illuminates his relationship with courage is his intellectual voraciousness and his capacity for self-reflection. Kennedy was an avid reader—biographies, history, and military strategy were particular interests—and he learned from failure with remarkable speed. After the Bay of Pigs debacle, rather than double down on similar ventures, he recalibrated his approach to foreign policy. He read extensively about military history and sought counsel from experienced figures. His famous book “Profiles in Courage,” published in 1957 before his presidency, examined historical figures who had made difficult decisions in face of opposition. The book itself was somewhat controversial—it was ghost-written, largely by speechwriter Ted Sorensen—but it revealed Kennedy’s fascination with moral courage and the willingness to make unpopular choices in service of principle. This intellectual framework provided the philosophical scaffolding for his public invocations of courage.
The quote’s resonance during Kennedy’s time was amplified by the cultural moment and his own persona. The early 1960s were characterized by a sense of optimism mixed with existential dread. The space program, championed enthusiastically by Kennedy, offered an almost romantic outlet for American ambition and courage, particularly after Kennedy’s bold declaration that America would land a man on the moon before the decade’s end. Yet simultaneously, the threat of nuclear annihilation hung over everything. In this context, Kennedy’s call to courage—drawing on ancient biblical language that connected him to centuries of human struggle—provided spiritual ballast. Americans weren’t being asked to be reckless but to face reality with eyes open and determination intact. The quote circulated in newspapers, was referenced in sermons, and became part of the cultural