welsh
Junkmaster
So, is it starting to look like Vietnam yet?
For those interested in an analogy, you might want to check out Path to War-
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0218505/
The Vietnam Syndrome
http://www.economist.com/world/na/displayStory.cfm?story_id=2597257
Apr 15th 2004
From The Economist print edition
It is there—but not in the way you might expect
THE most graphic measure of the Iraq war's gravity is the body count, which has taken a sharp move upwards in recent weeks. But there is also a rhetorical barometer—the “Vietnam count”—and it too has made a sharp move upwards, with Ted Kennedy dubbing Iraq “Bush's Vietnam”, Newsweek splashing “The Vietnam Factor” on its cover, and George Bush, in a rare press conference, dismissing the comparison as unhelpful. And this is before you factor in all the references to Vietnam, both overt and subliminal, in Lieutenant John Kerry's campaign.
There are all sorts of obvious dangers in comparing any modern venture to a long-ago war. The United States is no longer engaged in a struggle with the Soviet Union; the American army no longer resorts to the draft; and so on. The platoon of journalists who routinely liken every American military operation to Vietnam has suffered from serial embarrassments in the past decade, first in the Gulf, then in the Balkans and Afghanistan. The cherubic baritone of the quagmire choir, the New York Times's R.W. Apple, has been mute this time.
Yet stopped clocks sometimes tell the right time. And, whatever the outcome in Iraq, the current struggle raises two intriguing questions about “the Vietnam Syndrome”—a condition, which for the uninitiated, might be defined as “scepticism, either prudent or debilitating according to your political taste, about both the legitimacy and the efficacy of America using military power overseas.” First, how far is Mr Bush's generally hawkish posture on the world stage driven by a deliberate attempt to eradicate the legacy of that syndrome? And, second, how far is the current mess in Iraq reviving not eradicating that syndrome?
The Vietnam war was just as formative an experience for Mr Bush's war cabinet as it was for the American left, though conservatives drew the opposite conclusion. They concluded that America needed much heavier military investment. They insisted that this investment needed to continue even after the disintegration of the Soviet Union, pointing to the threats posed by terrorism and rogue states. And they admonished their peers to cast aside the 1960s—with its “blame America first attitudes” and Age of Aquarius reservations about military power.
This enthusiasm for eradicating the Vietnam Syndrome may be most associated with the neo-conservatives (who first appeared during the Vietnam era as disgruntled Democrats furious with the anti-war movement), and with the hawks in the Pentagon and the vice-president's office. It is also true that the doves at the State Department, notably Colin Powell and his deputy, Richard Armitage, have been reluctant to commit America to war without a clear exit strategy and a guarantee of overwhelming force. (Both men, incidentally, served heroically in Vietnam.) But, as James Mann demonstrates in his excellent anatomy of Mr Bush's war cabinet, “Rise of the Vulcans” (Viking), these are differences of means, not ends. Both “hawks” and “doves” share a common Republican dream: restoring American military prestige to its pre-Vietnam level.
Both Messrs Powell and Armitage were given their start in Washington by one of Ronald Reagan's leading hawks, Caspar Weinberger. They spent most of their careers in the Pentagon rather than in Foggy Bottom. Mr Armitage made his reputation on the sharp edge of the Reagan doctrine, trying to provide practical support for armed rebellion against the Soviet Union's client states. Mr Powell fought relentlessly for more resources for the armed forces; he has probably done more than any other soldier to embellish the American military's public standing.
In the aftermath of September 11th it looked as if the conservatives had restored America's military machine to its former glory. American soldiers trampled their way across Afghanistan (where the “graveyard of empires” folded in short order) and then Iraq (where they reached Baghdad in just three weeks). Today the picture looks decidedly murkier.
The reputation of the armed forces probably remains high. In February, 62% of Americans said that they had a great deal of confidence in their armed forces; the next most respected body, “major educational institutions”, got just 37%. Even Mr Kerry, who wanted America to get out of Vietnam, believes that America needs more troops in Iraq.
That Mekong moment
Yet even if the soldiers' standing remains high, the Vietnam Syndrome still haunts Mr Bush in two ways. First, the Iraq war is dividing the country in much the same profound way that Vietnam once did. Though most people continue to support the war (albeit with growing reservations), the left regards it as an utterly illegitimate enterprise. Second, the possibility that Iraq is indeed a quagmire grows ever larger. In 1997 Paul Wolfowitz, the most important neo-con Vulcan, justified the first Bush administration's decision not to march into Baghdad on the grounds that “conceivably, this could have led the United States into a more or less permanent occupation of a country that could not govern itself, but where the rule of a foreign occupier would be increasingly resented.” That looks a lot more sober and prescient than the more recent dreams of using Iraq to inspire a democratic revolution in the Middle East.
Perhaps the most striking historical analogy has less to do with the syndrome than with the personnel. Mr Mann argues that Mr Bush's Vulcans closely resemble the “best and brightest” who helped get JFK into Vietnam. Like their predecessors, they possess boundless optimism in American power, and boundless faith in their own ideas. They are also open to the charge that they knew more about airy-fairy theories than the situation on the ground. Donald Rumsfeld even looks a bit like Robert McNamara, the Vietnam-era defence secretary. Vietnam looks set to haunt the Vulcans for some time to come
For those interested in an analogy, you might want to check out Path to War-
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0218505/
The Vietnam Syndrome
http://www.economist.com/world/na/displayStory.cfm?story_id=2597257
Apr 15th 2004
From The Economist print edition
It is there—but not in the way you might expect
THE most graphic measure of the Iraq war's gravity is the body count, which has taken a sharp move upwards in recent weeks. But there is also a rhetorical barometer—the “Vietnam count”—and it too has made a sharp move upwards, with Ted Kennedy dubbing Iraq “Bush's Vietnam”, Newsweek splashing “The Vietnam Factor” on its cover, and George Bush, in a rare press conference, dismissing the comparison as unhelpful. And this is before you factor in all the references to Vietnam, both overt and subliminal, in Lieutenant John Kerry's campaign.
There are all sorts of obvious dangers in comparing any modern venture to a long-ago war. The United States is no longer engaged in a struggle with the Soviet Union; the American army no longer resorts to the draft; and so on. The platoon of journalists who routinely liken every American military operation to Vietnam has suffered from serial embarrassments in the past decade, first in the Gulf, then in the Balkans and Afghanistan. The cherubic baritone of the quagmire choir, the New York Times's R.W. Apple, has been mute this time.
Yet stopped clocks sometimes tell the right time. And, whatever the outcome in Iraq, the current struggle raises two intriguing questions about “the Vietnam Syndrome”—a condition, which for the uninitiated, might be defined as “scepticism, either prudent or debilitating according to your political taste, about both the legitimacy and the efficacy of America using military power overseas.” First, how far is Mr Bush's generally hawkish posture on the world stage driven by a deliberate attempt to eradicate the legacy of that syndrome? And, second, how far is the current mess in Iraq reviving not eradicating that syndrome?
The Vietnam war was just as formative an experience for Mr Bush's war cabinet as it was for the American left, though conservatives drew the opposite conclusion. They concluded that America needed much heavier military investment. They insisted that this investment needed to continue even after the disintegration of the Soviet Union, pointing to the threats posed by terrorism and rogue states. And they admonished their peers to cast aside the 1960s—with its “blame America first attitudes” and Age of Aquarius reservations about military power.
This enthusiasm for eradicating the Vietnam Syndrome may be most associated with the neo-conservatives (who first appeared during the Vietnam era as disgruntled Democrats furious with the anti-war movement), and with the hawks in the Pentagon and the vice-president's office. It is also true that the doves at the State Department, notably Colin Powell and his deputy, Richard Armitage, have been reluctant to commit America to war without a clear exit strategy and a guarantee of overwhelming force. (Both men, incidentally, served heroically in Vietnam.) But, as James Mann demonstrates in his excellent anatomy of Mr Bush's war cabinet, “Rise of the Vulcans” (Viking), these are differences of means, not ends. Both “hawks” and “doves” share a common Republican dream: restoring American military prestige to its pre-Vietnam level.
Both Messrs Powell and Armitage were given their start in Washington by one of Ronald Reagan's leading hawks, Caspar Weinberger. They spent most of their careers in the Pentagon rather than in Foggy Bottom. Mr Armitage made his reputation on the sharp edge of the Reagan doctrine, trying to provide practical support for armed rebellion against the Soviet Union's client states. Mr Powell fought relentlessly for more resources for the armed forces; he has probably done more than any other soldier to embellish the American military's public standing.
In the aftermath of September 11th it looked as if the conservatives had restored America's military machine to its former glory. American soldiers trampled their way across Afghanistan (where the “graveyard of empires” folded in short order) and then Iraq (where they reached Baghdad in just three weeks). Today the picture looks decidedly murkier.
The reputation of the armed forces probably remains high. In February, 62% of Americans said that they had a great deal of confidence in their armed forces; the next most respected body, “major educational institutions”, got just 37%. Even Mr Kerry, who wanted America to get out of Vietnam, believes that America needs more troops in Iraq.
That Mekong moment
Yet even if the soldiers' standing remains high, the Vietnam Syndrome still haunts Mr Bush in two ways. First, the Iraq war is dividing the country in much the same profound way that Vietnam once did. Though most people continue to support the war (albeit with growing reservations), the left regards it as an utterly illegitimate enterprise. Second, the possibility that Iraq is indeed a quagmire grows ever larger. In 1997 Paul Wolfowitz, the most important neo-con Vulcan, justified the first Bush administration's decision not to march into Baghdad on the grounds that “conceivably, this could have led the United States into a more or less permanent occupation of a country that could not govern itself, but where the rule of a foreign occupier would be increasingly resented.” That looks a lot more sober and prescient than the more recent dreams of using Iraq to inspire a democratic revolution in the Middle East.
Perhaps the most striking historical analogy has less to do with the syndrome than with the personnel. Mr Mann argues that Mr Bush's Vulcans closely resemble the “best and brightest” who helped get JFK into Vietnam. Like their predecessors, they possess boundless optimism in American power, and boundless faith in their own ideas. They are also open to the charge that they knew more about airy-fairy theories than the situation on the ground. Donald Rumsfeld even looks a bit like Robert McNamara, the Vietnam-era defence secretary. Vietnam looks set to haunt the Vulcans for some time to come
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