A seven-day constitutional crisis unfolds over the course of this suspenseful bestseller of yesteryear. Seven Days in May, the story of a coup attempt against a United States president by leading officers of the United States military, was originally published in 1962; the film adaptation was released in 1964, and the action of the book takes place in a fictive 1972. Yet the book may get at least some contemporary readers thinking back to January 6, 2021.
Fletcher Knebel came from Ohio, and served as a lieutenant in the U.S. Navy during the Second World War. After the war, he worked as a journalist for a number of Pennsylvania newspapers, and eventually started writing a nationally syndicated column of political satire titled “Potomac Fever.” His interest in matters political and military may well have stemmed from those experiences, and he began writing books that prefigure the political thrillers of the present day in their focus on situations that threaten the stability of American democracy. A number of those books – including, most notably, Seven Days in May – were co-written with Charles W. Bailey II, a Minneapolis-based journalist and newspaper editor.
Published in 1962 – the year of the Cuban Missile Crisis – Seven Days in May is set ten years later, in 1972. In the 1972 of this novel, the Cold War is, unsurprisingly, very much in progress. There has been an Iranian War that ended with Iran being partitioned, as Germany and Korea and Vietnam and Yemen were all partitioned during Cold War times. President Jordan Lyman has negotiated a missile disarmament treaty with the Soviet Union, but his poll numbers are slipping amidst a climate of growing distrust that the leaders of the U.S.S.R. can be counted upon to keep their word.
But what happens from Sunday, May 12, through Saturday, May 18, 1972, goes beyond the normal give-and-take of polls and politics. Marine Coionel Martin “Jiggs” Casey, the Pentagon-based director of the Joint Staff that serves the Joint Chiefs of Staff, accidentally comes upon documents indicating that a group of U.S. military officers, led by the highly decorated and wildly popular General James “Gentleman Jim” Scott, may be planning to strip President Lyman of power via a military coup!
A secret military base outside El Paso, Texas, houses the soldiers that would furnish the proverbial muscle. Air Force transport planes have been provided that could transport the soldiers to strategic points across the United States. And a rabble-rousing newspaper columnist, notorious for his virulent opposition to President Lyman’s treaty, seems ready to provide the propaganda cover for this seizure of power – all while Congress is on recess and the Vice President is on a good-will trip to Italy!
The President believes what Colonel Casey is telling him, and begins assembling a team of trusted advisers to seek out ways of preventing this coup attempt from coming to fruition. Yet both President Lyman and his allies are afflicted with self-doubt. The President reflects that “There can’t be a constitutional crisis unless the atmosphere is right, unless people are really worried deep down in their bellies. Are they?” (p. 103)
Colonel Casey meanwhile feels his own doubts – doubts that reflect his role as a serving officer in the United States Marine Corps. “What crazy impulse had sent him to the White House with that nightmare story? How could he have thought of implicating a man of Scott’s stature in a plot that had no basis except a frayed string of coincidences? And he had betrayed his own service. Marines don’t do that” (p. 105).
The efforts by Colonel Casey, President Lyman, and others to uncover solid evidence of the coup attempt run into one setback after another. An advisor who travelled to Gibraltar and obtained documentary evidence of the coup plotters’ schemes is killed in a plane crash outside Madrid. A U.S. Senator who travelled to Texas to investigate the rumours of a secret military base outside El Paso disappears without a trace. And President Lyman reflects disconsolately that what he and his allies have found so far is “Mildly interesting, perhaps, but worthless as evidence….He needed hard-rock evidence to smash this thing, but where was it?” (p. 205)
Yet a crucial, decisive piece of evidence does eventually emerge – evidence that is devastating in its implications. President Lyman, with the power to quash the coup attempt, wants to be sure of doing so in just the right way: “Nothing like this…has ever happened in this country. Needless to say, I don’t want it to happen, but just as important, I don’t want anyone ever to think that it might have happened” (p. 301). And Seven Days in May ends on a hopeful note. Key civilian and military leaders, at a number of crucial points in the novel, independently choose to act in defence of democracy, and the centre holds.
But Knebel and Bailey do not make the triumph of democracy seem assured or inevitable, and it is good that they do not. So many democracies around the world, throughout history, have spiralled down into tyranny, and there is no reason why, under the right circumstances, the same thing could not happen in the United States.
In an important set of reflections that President Lyman offers during the early stages of his and his allies’ plans for trying to prevent General Scott’s military coup, Knebel and Bailey set forth their sense that the advent of nuclear weapons has contributed to a new sense of helplessness and futility among people throughout the United States and around the world.
In this brave new world where “Civilization can go with a moan and a whisper overnight,” President Lyman asks, “how can an individual feel anything but helpless?” The president states that in a democracy, “Each of us has got to feel that we can influence events, no matter how slight the influence”, and then adds that “When people start believing they can’t, they get frustrated, and angry. They feel helpless, and they start going to extremes” (p. 129). As examples of that ready resort to extremism, President Lyman cites the period of Senator Joseph McCarthy’s ascendancy, as well as the power and influence of the John Birch Society.
President Lyman, who emerges from the book’s pages as a truly heroic defender of democracy, states that “democracy works only when a good majority of citizens are willing to give thought and time and effort to their government”, and expresses his concern that “People have seriously started looking for a superman.” Evoking the “Walker affair” of 1961, when President John F. Kennedy relieved General Edwin Walker from command after learning that Walker was seeking to indoctrinate U.S. Army troops with his far-right politics, President Lyman reminds his listeners that “Wise men – and I trust that includes everyone here – know there aren’t any supermen” (p. 130).
When I read these words from the fictional President Jordan Lyman of Seven Days in May, I could not help but think about the current political climate in the U.S.A. during the second Trump administration. The anxieties of our time seem different, in some ways, from those that characterized the Cold War era within which Seven Days in May was written and published. Nowadays, the chief sources of anxiety seem to relate to the rapid rate of technological change. But there are always those who feel that democracy is inadequate to address their most urgent concerns - it's "too slow," it "takes too long," it's not "decisive" enough. And there does seem to be an eagerness, among some Americans, for the rise of an Übermensch, a “superman” – the kind of person whose supporters might depict him as movie super-soldier John Rambo, or as Jesus of Nazareth.
Filmmaker John Frankenheimer’s excellent cinema adaptation of Seven Days in May, released in 1964, plays further upon that theme of the dangers of the would-be Übermensch, through scenes in which the film’s General Scott (played by Burt Lancaster) speaks at rallies while supporters scream his name rapturously, in a manner that might remind some viewers of the behaviour they have seen amongst Trump supporters at Trump rallies. The film’s cast is uniformly excellent (Kirk Douglas as Colonel Casey, and Fredric March as President Lyman, with Ava Gardner, Martin Balsam, and Edmond O’Brien in supporting roles), and the contemporary viewer may be surprised at how modern it all seems.
President Kennedy did not live to see the release of the film Seven Days in May, but – perhaps in part because of the “Walker affair” – he advocated for the making of a film version of the Knebel/Bailey book, believing that the book’s scenario of an attempted coup d’état against the American presidency was only too feasible. Subsequent history shows us, the people of the post-January 6th world, how right President Kennedy was to harbour such concerns.