There are so many echoes of Vietnam in Iraq
Charles Glass:
Independent, 13 November 2003

It took two years for US deaths to reach 324 in Vietnam. It passed that
figure in seven months in Iraq.

The US armed forces launched their first air raid against post-war Iraq
last week, when F-16 fighter-bombers dropped 500-pound bombs on Tikrit.
The new campaign against Iraq's resistance fighters, dubbed Operation Ivy
Cyclone, recalls President Lyndon Johnson's Operation Rolling Thunder over
Vietnam in 1965. That campaign of bombing Vietnam would eventually see
Indochina devastated by 7 million tons of aerial explosives.

These are early days in Iraq, where the conflict between a growing
percentage of the native population and the occupying forces is escalating
far more rapidly than it did in Vietnam. It took two years, from 1963 to
the end of 1964, for American combat deaths to reach 324. The US has
surpassed that figure in only seven months in Iraq, where 398 American
soldiers have died already. In the last 12 days, 38 have been killed. As
for the Iraqi dead, the US does not count them with similar precision.
Vietnam offers examples to the US, but it is learning the wrong lessons.

Parallels with Vietnam are asserting themselves again and again in Iraq.
They start with the justification for committing American troops to
battle. In both cases, politicians lied to persuade Congress and the
public to go along. In 1964, the year Lyndon Johnson officially upgraded
the US military role from advisory to combat, the secretaries of state and
defence accused North Vietnam of attacking the USS Maddox.

Defence Secretary Robert McNamara, in a bravura performance emulated by Secretary of State Colin Powell at the UN last February, announced: "While on routine patrol in international waters, the US destroyer Maddox
underwent an unprovoked attack." The only phrase corresponding to reality
was that the Maddox was a destroyer. Otherwise, the routine patrol was in
fact an attack on North Vietnam's shore installations. The international
waters were really North Vietnam's. And the unprovoked attack was not only
provoked, it did not take place at all.

The Johnson administration's deception, like George Bush's over Saddam's
weapons of mass destruction, worked. Johnson won passage of the Gulf of
Tonkin Resolution, allowing him to take "all necessary measures". Bush
passed his war resolution after telling Congress that Saddam was
threatening the US. The Bush administration's dance around facts to
achieve the invasion of Iraq made Johnson's chicanery look amateur.

Tonkin was shown to be a lie when Daniel Ellsberg leaked the Pentagon
Papers in 1971. The lies over Iraq were exposed almost as soon as the US
erected barriers in Baghdad to protect itself from the people it had
liberated. No one found the nuclear programme, the Niger uranium or the
elusive connection to al-Qa'ida. From the beginning in Iraq, as in
Vietnam, the credibility gap lay wide open.

At a recent dinner in Washington, US Marine officers told me of their
opposition to the occupation of Iraq. Two reasons they gave were:
occupation cannot work; and young Marines risking their lives know that
the sons of the war's architects, like Donald Rumsfeld and Paul Wolfowitz,
will not face combat or risk death in Iraq. These officers were born about
the time US troops left Vietnam. Their voices echo those of generals
Matthew Ridgway and Douglas MacArthur, who warned Kennedy that the US
could not win a land war in Asia. Many commanders were outspoken critics
of the Vietnam war. The most consistent was the Commandant of the Marine
Corps, General David M Shoup.

In 1966, Shoup, who had already warned both Kennedy and Johnson that the military had no business in Vietnam, told the Senate Foreign Relations
Committee that most of the South Vietnamese people were fighting against
"those crooks in Saigon", leaders whom the US had imposed upon them. In
one of his many speeches throughout the country, Shoup said, "If we had
and would keep our dollar-crooked fingers out of the business of these
nations so full of depressed, exploited people, they will arrive at a
solution of their own. [A solution] that they design and want. That they
fight and work for. [Not one] crammed down their throats by Americans."

Robert Buzzanco, in Masters of War: Military Dissent and Politics in the
Vietnam Era, observed that the reward for Shoup's candour was to be
placed, alongside other military and civilian opponents of the war, under
FBI surveillance.

Robert Buzzanco wrote that, while the American officer corps was
sceptical, "they nonetheless ignored their own bleak analysis with the
full complicity of the civilian policy-making establishment." Many
officers saw what happened to Shoup and protected their careers. Most of
all, they did not want the military to take the blame for a war directed
by Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon. Avoiding blame for disaster was preferable
to telling presidents what they did not want to hear.

As in Iraq, getting into Vietnam was easier than getting out. The US
attempted to impose a viable South Vietnamese government and army capable of defeating the popular resistance of the National Liberation Front. It never succeeded. The Bush administration tried a similar manoeuvre with
its appointment last July of the 25-member Iraqi Governing Council (IGC).
Now Paul Bremer, head of the occupyin g administration, has been recalled
amid reports that they are seeking alternatives to the IGC.

In South Vietnam, a state the US more or less created after the Geneva
Accords of 1954, Washington installed Ngo Dinh Diem as leader. When it
became dissatisfied with Diem's inability to control the insurgency
against his rule, Kennedy allowed some of South Vietnam's generals to
assassinate him and take over. The US presided over one military coup
after another in the elusive search for a government acceptable to South
Vietnam's people.

When American soldiers died in Vietnam, the US reacted with various
programmes to protect them: saturation bombing, camps called strategic
hamlets in which it confined hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese peasants,
and the Phoenix Programme, under which the CIA and Special Forces
assassinated 30,000 suspected Viet Cong cadres. The CIA chief William
Colby called Phoenix the only successful operation of the war. How far is
the US willing to go to preserve the notion that it can impose a
government acceptable to both itself and the Iraqi people? Will it employ
the old techniques, the only ones in its counter-insurgency arsenal, as it
suffers more casualties? Old words come howling out of the past: body
count, kill ratio, search and destroy, destroying the village to save it
and the light at the end of the tunnel.

America lost 58,000 dead in Vietnam. It killed two million Vietnamese. It
was warned against that war, as it was warned against this one - and often
by the military men who did not want their soldiers to risk their lives
except in defence of their own country.

The last exit strategy in Vietnam was Vietnamisation, training South
Vietnamese soldiers to fight South Vietnamese guerrillas. Now the word is
Iraqisation and amounts to the same thing. In Vietnam, the US created a
state apparatus that was corrupt and a local army that did not want to
fight. Both collapsed when America pulled out. In Iraq, the Bush
administration promises a different outcome - despite pursuing the same
goals with the same methods.

The author was ABC News Chief Mideast correspondent, 1983-1993


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