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As I began mining the 80,000 pages of newly released, previously classified Kennedy assassination records, Jack Schlossberg, JFK’s only grandson, offered a piercing observation on X: “President Trump is obsessed with my grandfather — but not in his life or what he achieved in it. He’s only interested in his carcass.”
“Obsession” may not be the right word, but “fixation,” “priority,” and most certainly, “distraction,” are more than fair. Trump has indeed repeatedly promised to declassify these files since his first term, but until this week, it seemed no more pressing to him than the erratic cost and availability of eggs.
A presidential historian and a presidential heir may differ in approach and word choice, but we are aligned in purpose: highlighting what appears to be Trump’s opportunistic use of Kennedy’s legacy. This may be about sating public curiosity — just as much as it’s about leveraging historical legacies for political gain, veering public focus away from pressing contemporary issues.
The Kennedy family has long maintained that the newly released files, which include administrative records related to the Warren Commission’s investigation, information it received from federal agencies, as well as photos, recordings and commission hearings, would shed no new light on the assassination. Historians, typically zealous advocates for unfettered access, have never disputed this claim, and preliminary reviews support this contention. Aside from some historical color, I’ve read nothing groundbreaking — at least, not about Kennedy’s assassination. Alarmingly, the administration chose not to redact the personal information, including Social Security numbers and other personal details, of hundreds of individuals, many of whom are still active in the workforce.
The assassination records are just the latest in Trump’s efforts, whether they be born of obsession or something else, to shift public focus from the Camelot mystique and the myriad ways Kennedy’s presidency uplifted, inspired, and revolutionized American society. His pioneering civil rights initiatives laid the groundwork for the transformative legislation of the 1960s. He founded the Peace Corps, reflecting his commitment to international development and diplomacy, and established USAID to address global poverty — which Trump has all but ended. Trump has swiftly erased physical reminders of Kennedy’s contributions to Washington, from the radically altered Rose Garden to the Kennedy Center, previously a bipartisan haven for the arts that is now decidedly MAGA — and served as the backdrop when Trump announced the records would be released this week.
Even the appointment of the unqualified and potentially dangerous Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to a position of influence as Secretary of Health and Human Services seems a calculated move. It simultaneously capitalizes on the Kennedy name, which now serves Trump’s own, and risks associating the most famous Democratic dynasty with Republican interests — while potentially tarnishing its reputation through RFK Jr.’s well-known and controversial health conspiracies.
Taken together, Trump’s actions seem to betray a deep-seated need to overshadow Kennedy’s enduring popularity — and by extension, his family’s. These maneuvers to undermine Kennedy’s contributions do not just alter public perception; they seek to rewrite the narrative on how transformative leaders like Kennedy have shaped the nation’s path. It’s an endeavor that doesn’t merely reshape public perception but seeks to rewrite how transformative American leaders are remembered — not for the strides they made in shaping modern America but as mere subjects of conspiracy and controversy.
I’ve often marveled at the divergent paths of Trump and JFK, both scions of wealthy families. They were second sons, neither receiving significant paternal attention until their elder brothers, their father’s namesakes, were displaced — Joe Kennedy Jr. by death, Fred Trump Jr. by his choice to become a pilot instead of taking over the family business. Both men had complicated personal lives marked by numerous liaisons, but from these similar starting points, their trajectories diverged dramatically.
One road led to public service and inspiration, the other paved a path of relentless self-aggrandizement. Kennedy, determined to serve his country, lied about his chronic health issues to enlist in the Navy, where he became a war hero and earned a Purple Heart. Trump claimed health issues — shin splints — to avoid service. Kennedy served in Congress for more than a decade before running for president. Trump, in stark contrast, charted a course marked by business ventures of questionable success, reality TV stardom, and a penchant for self-promotion and conspiracy theories. Their divergent approaches to leadership couldn’t be starker — one sought to elevate the nation, the other to elevate himself.
It’s “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country” versus “American carnage,” but luckily for Trump, Kennedy is often dismissively categorized as a photogenic president with a stylish wife and a tragedy-stricken family, his substantive legacy lost in the mists of time and changing cultural narratives. And if Trump’s machinations continue — he’s slashed the budget of presidential libraries and wants to do away with the Department of Education — this generational amnesia will get far worse, along with our country.
The assault on Kennedy’s memory transcends politics and personal insecurities about competing legacies. It’s a systematic historical revision threatening our national narrative. Trump aims to reduce a complex, transformative figure to a spectral footnote. If successful, Kennedy will morph from a symbol of public service into, through the lens of the assassination, a cautionary tale. An emblem of hope becomes a totem of governmental mistrust.
In this distorted narrative, we can’t hear Camelot’s echoes of possibility, only the hollow ring of cynicism that elevates those who would rather dominate than lead.
Alexis Coe is an American presidential historian, senior fellow at New America, and the author of, most recently, the New York Times bestselling You Never Forget Your First: A Biography of George Washington. Her book Young Jack: John F. Kennedy, 1917-1957 will be out next year.
