1  The Setting

1.1 The U.S. Impact on Indochina

The U.S. war in Indochina began as one of innumerable examples of counterrevolutionary intervention throughout the world. As a result of the wholly unanticipated level of resistance of the Vietnamese revolutionaries, and later their allies when the United States spread the war to the rest of Indochina, it was gradually transformed into one of the most destructive and murderous attacks on a civilian population in history, as the world’s most powerful military machine was unleashed against peasant societies with extremely limited means of self-defense and lacking the capacity to strike back at the source of aggression.

The main outlines of the U.S. war are well documented. After World War II, the United States determined to back French imperialism in its effort to destroy what planners clearly recognized to be an indigenous nationalist movement in Vietnam, which declared independence in 1945 and vainly sought recognition and aid from the United States. The French-U.S. repacification effort failed. In 1954, France accepted a political settlement at Geneva, which, if adhered to by the United States, would have led to independence for the three countries of Indochina. Unwilling to accept the terms of this settlement, the United States undertook at once to subvert them. A client regime was established in South Vietnam which immediately rejected the basic framework of the agreements, launched a fierce repression in the South, and refused to permit the elections to unify the two administrative zones of the country as laid down in the Geneva Accords (see Volume I, chapter 5). In the 1950s, the United States still hoped to be able to reconquer all of Vietnam; later, it limited its aims to maintaining control over South Vietnam and incorporating it into the Free World by any necessary means. Direct involvement of U.S. armed forces in military action against the South Vietnamese began in 1961-62.

Meanwhile in Laos the United States also successfully undermined the Geneva political settlement and prevented any sharing of power by the Pathet Lao, the left wing resistance forces that had fought the French and won the 1958 election despite a major U.S. effort to prevent this outcome. The United States then turned to subversion and fraud, setting off a civil war in which, as in South Vietnam, the right wing military backed by the United States was unable to hold its own. Meanwhile, Cambodia was able to maintain independence despite continual harassment by U.S. clients in Thailand and South Vietnam and an unsuccessful effort at subversion in the late 1950s.

By the early 1960s, virtually all parties concerned, apart from the United States and its various local clients, were making serious efforts to avoid an impending war by neutralizing South Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia; that is, removing them from external (overwhelmingly U.S.) influence and control. Such an outcome was anathema to the U.S. leadership. President Johnson informed Ambassador Lodge in 1964 that his mission was “knocking down the idea of neutralization wherever it rears its ugly head.” The United States was deeply concerned to prevent any negotiated political settlement because, as is easily documented, its planners and leaders assumed that the groups that they backed could not possibly survive peaceful competition.

Once again the United States succeeded in preventing a peaceful settlement. In South Vietnam, it stood in opposition to all significant political forces, however anti-Communist, imposing the rule of a military clique that was willing to serve U.S. interests. By January 1965, the United States was compelled to undermine its own puppet, General Khanh; he was attempting to form what Ambassador Taylor called a “dangerous” coalition with the Buddhists, who were not acting “in the interests of the Nation,” as General Westmoreland explained. What is more, Khanh was apparently trying to make peace with the NLF, quite possibly a factor that lay behind the elimination of his predecessors. At that point, the United States, which stood alone in understanding “the interests of the Nation” in South Vietnam, had no alternative but to extend its already substantial military campaign against the rural society of the South, where the overwhelming majority of the population lived. The United States therefore launched a full-scale invasion in a final effort to destroy the organized popular forces in the South. The invasion was accompanied by the bombing of North Vietnam, undertaken to lay some basis for the claim that the United States was “defending the South against external aggression,” and in the hope that the DRV would use its influence to bring the southern rebellion to a halt and permit the United States to attain its goals. This maneuver failed. The DRV responded by sending limited forces to the South, as most U.S. planners had anticipated. Meanwhile, the United States began the systematic bombing of South Vietnam, at three times the level of the more publicized—and more protested—bombing of the North.

The war also intensified in Laos, with U.S. bombing from 1964 and military operations by a “clandestine army” of Hmong tribesmen, organized and directed by the CIA to supplement the inept “official” army trained and armed by the U.S. military. U.S. outposts in northern Laos were guiding the bombing of North Vietnam from Thai bases. By this time Thai and North Vietnamese forces were also engaged, though on a considerably smaller scale. By 1968, the United States was conducting a bombing campaign of extraordinary severity in northern Laos, far removed from the war in South Vietnam. By 1969 the sporadic U.S.-Saigon attacks on Cambodia had escalated to intensive bombardment, and after the coup of March, 1970, which overthrew the Sihanouk government, Cambodia too was plunged into the inferno. U.S.-Saigon military actions began two days after the coup and a full-scale invasion (called a “limited incursion”) took place at the end of April—“limited,” as it turned out, largely because of the unprecedented demonstration of protest in the United States. This invasion and the subsequent bombing, particularly in 1973, led to vast suffering and destruction throughout the country.

All of these efforts failed. In January 1973 the United States signed a peace treaty in Paris which virtually recapitulated the NLF program of the early 1960s. This was interpreted as a stunning diplomatic victory in the United States. The United States government announced at once that it would disregard every essential provision of this treaty, and proceeded to do so, attempting again to conquer South Vietnam, now through the medium of the vastly expanded military forces it organized, trained, advised, and supplied. In a most remarkable display of servility, the Free Press misrepresented the new agreement in accordance with the Kissinger-Nixon version, which was diametrically opposed to the text on every crucial point, thus failing to bring out the significance of the U.S.-Thieu subversion of the major elements of the agreement. This misrepresentation of the actual terms of the agreement set the stage for indignation at the North Vietnamese response and the sudden collapse of the puppet regime.¹

All of these U.S. efforts dating back to the 1940s eventually failed. By April 1975, U.S. clients had been defeated in all parts of Indochina, leaving incredible carnage, bitterness, and near insoluble problems of reconstruction. The United States thereafter refused reparations or aid, and exerted its considerable influence to block assistance from elsewhere. Even trade is blocked by the United States, in a striking display of malice.²

Historical comparisons are of only limited value—too many factors vary from case to case—but it nevertheless may be suggestive to compare the situation in Indochina after 1975 with that of Western Europe as World War II came to an end. Western Europe was, of course, a group of advanced industrial countries which had, furthermore, suffered much less damage than the peasant societies brutalized by the United States in Indochina. Nevertheless, substantial U.S. assistance was provided to reconstruct industrial capitalism and to tame the labor movement and the popular resistance forces.³ The harsh winters of the early postwar years brought Great Britain almost to its knees, and years went by before the effects of the war in Western Europe were overcome. The early years were marked by brutal massacres, forced labor and “reeducation” for prisoners of war, and other measures of retribution. (See chapter 2, section 2.)

In Indochina, the problems of reconstruction after 1975 were incomparably more severe. The destruction of the land and the social structure far surpassed anything in the industrial democracies subjected to Nazi attack and occupation. There are still no reparations or aid from the United States, and only very limited assistance from elsewhere. The most severe natural catastrophes in many decades have caused further havoc, as have conflicts of an extremely serious nature between Vietnam and Cambodia, and Vietnam and China. These conflicts the United States regards with satisfaction. As Secretary of Defense Harold Brown explained in an address to the Trilateral Commission (composed of elite groups in the United States, Japan, and Western Europe), the Cambodia-Vietnam conflict “does take the pressure off ASEAN [the U.S. Southeast Asian allies]” while in the long run the “Vietnamese attempts at minor league hegemonism is [sic] likely to preoccupy the Communist powers in Southeast Asia for some time to come.”⁴ These conflicts are also helpful to U.S. policy by further impeding the difficult tasks of reconstruction and creating still more destruction in the lands ravaged by the U.S. military machine.

Vast social changes are imperative in Indochina to overcome centuries of injustice and oppression exacerbated by French colonialism, with its brutal and destructive impact on the peasant society, little recognized or appreciated in the West. Still more urgent, even a matter of sheer survival, is the need to return to the countryside the millions of people driven into urban concentrations by U.S. violence. The artificial Western implantations which survived on a foreign dole must be dismantled, and quickly, if the population is to survive. On this matter, all competent authorities agree. It is difficult to imagine how the task might be accomplished without considerable further suffering and disruption under the best of circumstances. Certainly, the far wealthier Western societies, which had suffered much less from World War II, would have had great difficulty in dealing with their far more limited problems without enormous foreign assistance, and would no doubt have been compelled to resort to Draconian measures.

It is worth noting that despite their enormous wealth and advantage, the Western powers have never conceived of undertaking serious programs directed to the welfare of the impoverished majority in the underdeveloped countries under their domination and influence, and would have no idea how to proceed even if, in some stunning reversal of history, they were to devote themselves to these ends. While Western elites are always keen to denounce injustice beyond their reach—from their position of privilege that derives from centuries of brutal exploitation—the task of overcoming degradation and poverty within their own realms merits nothing more than occasional rhetorical flights, and they have demonstrated their talents and concern primarily in devising new forms of brutality and oppression when their own interests are threatened.

Under existing conditions, it is not clear that the tasks facing the postwar regimes in Indochina can be accomplished at all. By the standards of Western European or U.S. history, one should expect brutality, oppression, and recurrent warfare as these problems are confronted.

While the countries of Indochina face their perhaps insuperable tasks, the United States and its allies have tasks as well. One is to reconstruct recent history so as to present their past role in a better light. A second is to ensure that the countries that have freed themselves from Western dominion face harsh and severe conditions. The reasons are primarily two: to teach the lesson that exit from the Free World in the interest of national autonomy is the worst fate that a subject people can endure, and to provide a post hoc justification for U.S. intervention by showing the awful consequences of its defeat. It is obvious that the most severe consequences have followed directly from the original U.S. intervention. It is beyond question that Indochina would be a far happier place if the United States had refrained from backing the French imperial conquest, or had been willing to accept the political settlement of 1954, the neutralization proposals advanced by everyone from de Gaulle to the NLF in 1962-64, or the Paris Accords of 1973. It is both irrational and deeply immoral for the propaganda systems of the West to pretend that Western sensibilities are shocked by postwar atrocities and suffering, a transparent effort to efface its own record of barbarism—primarily, though not solely, that of the leader of the Free World. But total irrationality has never offered much of an impediment to propagandists in the past, and as we shall see, it is no more of a problem in the present case. As usual, a fair degree of fabrication and deceit also comes in handy. Given the monolithic character of the media and scholarship, which tolerate little dissent, these efforts have achieved extraordinary success.

We will now turn to a more detailed discussion of some particular aspects of this amazing story and will see how these various themes run their predictable course in connection with each of the countries of Indochina, observing how the West is proceeding to come to terms with its crimes. In the course of this discussion, we will also consider some relevant background.

1.2 The United States in Vietnam: A Partial Victory

The war in Vietnam ended with a defeat for U.S. imperial violence, but only a partial defeat—a significant fact. The U.S. Expeditionary Force of over half a million men in South Vietnam became “a drugged, mutinous and demoralised rabble’’⁵ and was withdrawn. U.S. leaders had painfully learned a lesson familiar to their predecessors: a conscript army is ill-suited to fight a colonial war with its inevitable barbarism and incessant atrocities against helpless civilians. Such a war is better left to hired killers such as the French Foreign Legion or native mercenaries, or in the modern period to an advanced technology that leaves some psychic distance between the murderers and their victims—although even B-52 pilots reportedly began to object when Nixon and Kissinger dispatched them to devastate Hanoi in December, 1972 in a final effort to compel the North Vietnamese to accept a U.S.-dictated peace.⁶

The United States was never able to construct a viable Quisling government or organize local forces capable of maintaining the U.S. creation against its Vietnamese enemies. As Richard West remarks, “when the Communists launched their attack in March 1975 they were still outnumbered by more than three to one in manpower and still more in equipment, in spite of the claims to the contrary issued from Saigon,” but “the South”—that is, the U.S. client regime and its supporters—had “simply lost the will to go on fighting.” Historian Joseph Buttinger comments that its “swift and dramatic collapse…was not the result of an overwhelming attack by superior military forces” and “came about because of the degree of moral disintegration the South Vietnamese army had reached in 1975” which “in turn reflected the degree of moral and political decay to which South Vietnamese society had sunk after years of increasing political terror, mass misery and corruption”⁷ —that is, after years of U.S. “nation-building” efforts. As seen by T.D. Allman, one of the most outstanding of the war correspondents for many years, the U.S. policy of refugee generation created

what Senator Fulbright called “a society of prostitutes and mercenaries”—and the caricature of civilisation produced in South Vietnam by the American way of war is what now accounts for the collapse of a state that never had any economic, political or social basis except that provided by the Americans. The South Vietnamese soldiers fleeing an enemy which has not yet attacked and trying to push their motor bikes on to U.S. ships sum up the product of American “nation-building”—a militarist society with nothing worth fighting for; a consumer society that produces nothing; a nation of abandoned women conditioned to flee to the next handout of US surplus rice; of dispossessed gangs hitching rides on US planes to the next jerry-built urban slum.⁸

The speed and character of the collapse of the Saigon regime came as a surprise even to the usually well-informed leadership in Hanoi, and even more so to Washington, where it had been “optimistically” proclaimed not long before that the regime that the United States continued to support in violation of the scrap of paper signed in Paris in January, 1973 was successfully eliminating the parallel and equivalent authority in the South (the PRG) with which it was pledged to accommodate, and would be able to withstand any military response to its program of undermining the Paris Accords by force and violence.⁹

But the U.S. defeat was only partial. To understand events in postwar Vietnam it is important to recognize that the United States did in effect win the war in the South. It did not quite succeed in realizing the grim prediction of Bernard Fall that “Vietnam as a cultural and historic entity…is threatened with extinction” as “the countryside literally dies under the blows of the largest military machine ever unleashed on an area of this size.”¹⁰ But it came close. As the full power of the U.S. expeditionary force was let loose against the South in the following years, there was substantial success in “grinding the enemy down by sheer weight and mass” in the accurate words of pacification chief Robert (“Blowtorch”) Komer.¹¹

The southern-based indigenous resistance, which had called for the independence and neutrality of South Vietnam at a time when the U.S. client regime (and its sponsor) firmly rejected any such outcome, was virtually destroyed, as was the peasant society in which it had taken hold. Hence both the military and political phases of the struggle fell under the control of North Vietnam, viciously attacked, with a large part of its above-ground physical structures destroyed, but never crushed as a viable society. Frank Snepp, one of the top CIA analysts of Vietnamese affairs in the latter years of the war, writes: “At the time of the Communist victory the party apparatus in the south was in shambles, thanks in part to the depredations of the Phoenix Program. The [North Vietnamese] army thus remained the primary instrument of control.”¹² This consequence of the U.S. war provided a propaganda victory for Western hypocrites, who could now maintain on the basis of the direct results of the U.S. assault that the United States was obviously now “defending South Vietnam from aggression from Hanoi.”

The propaganda institutions have, needless to say, lost no time in exploiting their advantage. To select one of numerous examples, the New York Times, in an editorial concerned with what is “to be learned now from Indochina,” writes: “In Vietnam, clearly, North has vanquished South. The National Liberation Front that we would not admit to political power has been destroyed more surely by Hanoi than Washington ever dreamed it could be.”¹³ A marvel of hypocrisy since, as we described earlier, Washington didn’t merely “dream” but effectively killed the NLF “fish” by the deliberate process of “drying up the water” (i.e., destroying the peasant society of South Vietnam); but consistent with a long tradition of apologetics the Times editorial conveniently ignores the background of the alleged takeover.¹⁴

A second aspect of the partial U.S. victory in Vietnam is that most of the country, along with Laos and Cambodia, lies in ruins, so that a colossal task of reconstruction faces the survivors. The sight continues to amaze even experienced war correspondents. John Pilger, who reported for ten years from Vietnam, writes after a recent visit that “much of North Vietnam is a moonscape from which visible signs of life—houses, factories, schools, hospitals, pagodas, churches—have been obliterated. In some forests there are no longer birds and animals; and there are lorry drivers who will not respond to the hooting of a horn because they are deaf from the incessant sound of bombs.” Vietnamese authorities report 30,000 cases of permanent deafness among children from the 1972 bombings alone, Pilger reports. He describes napalm, especially created for Vietnam, that “continues to smoulder under the skin’s tissues through the lifetime of its victims”; areas bombed more heavily than Dresden; cities, such as Vinh, bombed so heavily that not even the foundations of buildings remain, and where now people live on the edge of famine, with rice rations lower than Bangladesh.¹⁵ These consequences of the U.S. war are also regularly exploited by Western commentators who point to the extraordinary difficulties in reconstructing some kind of existence from the wreckage as proof of Communist iniquity.

These partial victories are important. To preserve the image of U.S. benevolence, always a crucial element in imperial ideology, it is necessary to preserve in the popular mind the Big Lie that the United States was indeed engaged in “defense against aggression,” as was constantly proclaimed by Dean Rusk, Arthur Schlesinger, and other propagandists.¹⁶ As noted, the dominant role of the North in the final stages of the war and after—a direct result of the U.S. success in demolishing the South—contributes to the preservation of this myth and is regularly exploited to this end by journalists and scholars.¹⁷

There was an equally important benefit flowing from the devastation. Internal documents reveal that a major concern of U.S. planners has always been the “demonstration effect” of potential Communist success, which might serve as a model for nationalist movements elsewhere in Western-dominated regions. The primary U.S. goal in the Third World is to ensure that it remains open to U.S. economic penetration and political control. Failing this the United States exerts every effort to ensure that societies that try to strike an independent course—specifically, those that are called “Communist” in contemporary political jargon—will suffer the harshest conditions that U.S. power can impose so as to keep “the rot from spreading” by “ideological successes,” in the terminology employed by U.S. global planners.¹⁸ Though the United States was unable to subdue the nationalist movements of Indochina, it has attained its secondary goal. In addition to the immense problems of underdevelopment that burden the former Western colonies, the countries of Indochina must somehow confront the task of overcoming the ravages of the U.S. war-without reparations or aid from the United States, and indeed in the face of continued U.S. opposition even to aid from elsewhere.¹⁹

Now that the countries of Indochina have been pounded to dust, Western ideologists are less fearful of the demonstration effect of successful Communism and exult in the current willingness of the Western satellites of ASEAN to engage in “peaceful competition.” In the London Observer Gavin Young reports on ASEAN’s program of obliterating Communism “not with bombs but with prosperity,” under the leadership of the smiling, humanitarian Marcos, Lee Kuan Yew, Suharto, Hussein Onn of Malaysia, and General Kriangsak of Thailand (with his “dark, puckish face, at once warm-hearted and mischievous”). These benevolent leaders understand the priorities (“slum clearance, rural poverty”) and are now firmly setting out to eradicate the ills of their societies, as Young discovered when he interviewed them on their golf courses.²⁰ No one without access to the golf courses is interviewed, nor is there any discussion of the conditions under which most of the population of these potentially wealthy countries live, or why this situation persists, or concerning the past and ongoing atrocities conducted by the genial golfers and their ASEAN colleagues under the Western aegis. Imagine what the reaction would be in the West to a featured article in the press explaining how wondrous Asian communism is becoming, based exclusively on interviews with Kim Il-Sung, Pol Pot, etc. The comparison, once again, is informative as to the true character of the Free Press. Equally informative is the fact that it does not occur to the author or editors to note that this willingness to “see which system works best” followed many years of “working to obliterate communism” with bombs, with an impact on the victims that has conveniently been forgotten by the Free Press.

The U.S. government also suffered a defeat at home, but again, only a partial defeat. In the 1960s, a mass popular movement developed, unprecedented in scale and commitment, opposing the U.S. war in Vietnam. Contrary to common beliefs, the articulate intelligentsia remained largely loyal to the state propaganda system and, with some exceptions, only rarely approached even the periphery of this popular movement. Their opposition to the war, which developed at about the same time and for the same reasons as opposition in business circles, was highly qualified and fundamentally unprincipled: the United States simply could not get away with what it was doing at reasonable cost.²¹

Typical current assessments on the part of U.S. liberals run along these lines:

The American engagement in Vietnam continues to seem more bumbleheaded than evil; the progress of the war still appears to have been based upon a compendium of false analogies, bad guesses and self-righteousness. Much of this was termed evil at the time, but the name callers often created their own faulty analogies and exhibited notably self-righteous qualities…This assessment is made without regard to the “morality” of the American engagement…Johnson’s policy was not repudiated by [left or right wing] critics, but by the traditional logic of pragmatism: it did not work. The Tet offensive…provided the most dramatic evidence. No one could say for sure whether the Americans had won or lost at Tet, because no one was certain of the terms of victory and defeat. Such ambiguity sits poorly on the American psyche.²²

Note the quotes around the word “morality.” Only the acts of enemies of the state are to be assessed in moral terms. Note also the initial finding of an absence of “evil,” and the later revelation that “morality” is outside the terms of the discussion. Apart from the inane reference to the “American psyche,” Ross’ conclusion is accurate enough. “The logic of pragmatism” swayed not only Johnson, but also most of the liberal critics of the war.

To cite another example, consider the Op-Ed by Charles Peters, editor-in-chief of the liberal muckraking journal Washington Monthly in the New York Times (24 October 1977). He is concerned to “heal the terrible wound that [the war] left with us” by finding “some common ground” between the “left” and the “right,” both of whom must concede that they were in part wrong. The error of the right was “that the massive escalation in 1965 was wrong and that the effort to bomb the North Vietnamese into submission was stupid”; “we began to go wrong in 1965 with our campaign of mass slaughter against the Vietnamese. And we were wrong when we forced draftees to fight and die in what could at best be described as a morally ambiguous situation.” The slaughter of over 150,000 South Vietnamese by 1965, the U.S. bombing of villages, mass forced population removal, the institution and support for Diemist subfascist terror in an effort to overcome the “disaster” of the Geneva Accords, the earlier support for French imperialism against what was always understood to be the nationalist movement of Vietnam—all of this was before “we began to go wrong.” Furthermore, “We weren’t wrong to try to help the South [sic] with supplies and volunteers [sic], any more than the American left was wrong to give such help to the Loyalists during the Spanish Civil War.”²³ This much is “common ground.”

Where was the “left” wrong? In that it “surely…must concede…that there was in fact a substantial part of the population who did not want to live under Communism. The left needs to overcome its racist tendency to say that while Europeans should have democracy, Communism is just dandy for those yellow people.”

A complete captive of the assumptions of the war propagandists, Peters is unable to comprehend that opponents of the war were insisting that Vietnam should be left to the Vietnamese, not to whatever fate is determined for them by the likes of Walt Rostow, Henry Kissinger, or the myriad sycophants of the Peters variety. To regard that commitment as “racist” reveals moral standards that are quite on a par with the intellectual level indicated by Peters’ belief that opponents of the war must now “concede” that there were many anti-Communists in Vietnam, a great insight, no doubt. His implication that the United States was fighting for “democracy” for the yellow people in South Vietnam is ideological claptrap, refuted by the consistent U.S. support for terror regimes in South Vietnam (and indeed throughout the subfascist empire, as illustrated throughout Volume I).

We may compare Peters’ plea for healing the wounds of war with that of William Colby, as illustrated in this item which we quote in toto from the Boston Globe (15 January 1977):

Former CIA Director William Colby, who directed the ‘pacification’ program during the Vietnam war, said the United States and the Communist government of Vietnam should forget past animosities and build a relationship of respect and friendship. Both countries should ‘agree to consign the misdeeds of the past to the mists of history,’ Colby said.

In keeping with the same desire for reconciliation, it is natural that Henry Kissinger, who bears heavy responsibility for the Indochinese slaughter, should be honored with the Humanitarian Award of the National Conference of Christians and Jews (Boston Globe, 17 September 1977).

Other journalistic commentary is similar. At the war’s end, the liberal Washington Post warned that debate over the war must be balanced:

For if much of the actual conduct of Vietnam policy over the years was wrong and misguided—even tragic—it cannot be denied that some part of the purpose of that policy was right and defensible. Specifically, it was right to hope that the people of South Vietnam would be able to decide on their own form of government and social order. The American public is entitled, indeed obligated, to explore how good impulses came to be transmuted into bad policy, but we cannot afford to cast out all remembrance of that earlier impulse. For the fundamental “lesson” of Vietnam surely is…that we are capable of error—and on a gigantic scale. That is the spirit in which the post-mortems on Vietnam ought now to go forward. Not just the absence of recrimination, but also the presence of insight and honesty is required to bind up the nation’s wounds.²⁴

Note the typical assumption that “we” decided to undertake and pursue the Vietnam War. Note also the crucial words: “wrong,” “misguided,” “tragic,” “error.” That is as far as “insight and honesty” can carry us in reaching our judgment. The Post, incidentally, does not assign a date to that “early impulse” to help the people of South Vietnam “decide on their own form of government and social order,” a wise oversight on their part.

Similarly, the most outspoken dove on the New York Times in the latter stages of the war, Anthony Lewis, sums up the history of the war as follows:

The early American decisions on Indochina can be regarded as blundering efforts to do good. But by 1969 it was clear to most of the world—and most Americans—that the intervention had been a disastrous mistake.

Our nation-building effort was “a delusion” and “no amount of arms or dollars or blood could ever make it work.” The lesson of Vietnam is that “deceit does not pay.” We should avoid mistakes and lies, keep to policies that succeed and are accurately portrayed; that is the lesson of Vietnam.²⁵

The regular commentator of the liberal New Republic, Richard Strout, also sees the war as “one of the greatest blunders of our history.” “It was not wickedness; it was stupidity.”²⁶ These conclusions he wrote from Paris, where he had been visiting monuments to Hitler’s crimes. The emotional impact was overwhelming: “I hated the maniac Hitler crew; I could never forgive the Germans.” But then he “thought of Vietnam,” reaching the conclusions just cited. The “maniac Hitler crew” were presumably not guilty merely of “blunders” and “stupidity.” Strout does not raise the question whether the cruelty of “maniacs” is more or less wicked than the cold-blooded decisions and rationally imposed terror of Washington politicians and military bureaucrats tabulating body counts and contracting for improved fragmentation bombs.

We wonder how Strout would react to looking at mile after mile of lunar craters, razed villages, and the graves of hundreds of thousands of permanently pacified peasants. The beauty of nationalism is that whatever the means your state employs, since the leadership always proclaims noble objectives, and a nationalist can swallow these, wickedness is ruled out and stupidity explains all despicable behavior. It is only for assorted enemies that we look closely at real objectives and apply the more serious observation that means are both important in themselves as measures of evil and are inseparably related to (and interactive with) ends.²⁷

Bertrand Russell was one of the few who sought to bring some understanding of this chapter in imperial violence into the public arena, unfortunately to little effect. In 1964 he criticized the editorial stand of the U.S. social democratic journal Dissent, which opposed U.S. withdrawal from Vietnam as “something quite as inhumane” as the policy of “hopeless attrition of the Vietnamese people.” Their reason was that withdrawal of U.S. forces would “almost certainly” be followed by “a slaughter in the South of all those who have fought against the Communists.”²⁸ The editors seemed oblivious to the likely consequence of a U.S.-Saigon victory, though the record of Diem’s murderous assault on the opposition (with U.S. backing) was well-known. Particularly revealing is the tacit assumption that the United States has the authority to intervene to impose its concept of humanity. As the war ended the Dissent editors commented that the position they had taken was correct, though one might question “nuances.”²⁹ In particular, nothing in the intervening years led them to question the tacit assumption just noted. If the U.S. government is to be faulted, it is for the manner in which it has executed its mission. Russell’s warning and analysis went unheeded. On these crucial issues, the “democratic socialists” of Dissent adopt the fundamental assumptions of spokesmen for the U.S. imperial state. In 1978 they proceeded to run a symposium asking whether in the light of events in postwar Cambodia, we should rethink “our opposition” to the Vietnam War³⁰—we will not comment here on the astonishing assumptions that even permit that question to be raised.³¹

To cite one last example of a record that might extend to a full book in itself, consider the criticism of Gloria Emerson’s Winners and Losers by Homer Bigart, the highly-respected war correspondent of the New York Times, for her intolerance toward those who find Vietnam “less a moral crime than the thunderously stupid military blunder of throwing half a million ground troops into an unwinnable war.”³² Had the war been winnable or had there been less stupidity in fighting it, then the original U.S. aggression and the consequences for the victims would have been no “moral crime,” according to this again quite typical reaction by someone who is generally regarded as a critic of the war.

Throughout the war U.S. liberalism kept pretty much within the limits of responsible thinking, as defined by the requirements of state propaganda. At one extreme, there was Joseph Alsop, who believed that we could win, and at the other, Arthur Schlesinger, who expressed his doubts while adding that “we all pray that Mr. Alsop will be right” and explaining that if, contrary to his expectations, U.S. policy succeeds, “we may all be saluting the wisdom and statesmanship of the American government” in conducting a war that was turning Vietnam into “a land of ruin and wreck.”³³

The popular movement of opposition to the war was doubly threatening to U.S. elites. In the first place, the movement developed out of the control of its “natural leaders,” thus posing a grave threat to order and stability. What is more, the general passivity and obedience on the part of the population that is a basic requirement in a state committed to counterrevolutionary intervention was overcome in significant measure, and dangerous feelings of sympathy developed towards movements of national liberation in the Third World. It is an important task for the intelligentsia in the postwar period to reconstruct the ideological system and to reinstate the patterns of conformism that were shattered by the opposition and resistance to the U.S. war in Indochina.

The task is eased by the absence of an organized left in the United States, either as a mass movement or among the intelligentsia. As has long been noted, the United States is quite unusual among the industrial democracies in this regard. We cannot explore the causes here, but one should note that state repression is not an insignificant factor.³⁴

1.3 Picking Up the Pieces: A Return to Counterrevolutionary Intervention

Despite domestic opposition and protest, the basic institutions of U.S. society survived the Indochina crisis undamaged and unchanged. Since the global interests of U.S.-based multinational corporations that have led the United States to militarization and world-wide counterrevolutionary intervention are completely intact, we must assume that the same forces will prevail in the future to produce both direct and indirect intervention when the need arises. Even before the Vietnam War had ended there appeared a spate of articles in the U.S. press and journals, some by opponents of the Vietnam War, urging U.S. military intervention in the Arab oil-producing states. In a secret memorandum leaked to the press in January, 1978, Secretary of Defense Harold Brown “ordered the armed services to plan a special highly mobile force of up to 100,000 troops backed by air and naval units for possible rapid intervention in the Persian Gulf and other areas outside of Europe.”³⁵ Commentators across the narrow spectrum of articulate U.S. opinion, who reflect basic power forces in the United States, are restless and concerned that the “Vietnam hang-up” may pose obstacles to the use of force to protect “the national interest,” a mystification favored by ideologues to refer to the interests of those small groups who dominate the domestic economy and play a major role in setting foreign policy.

The more general context is an attempt to heat up the cold war, which has served both superpowers so effectively as a cover for enlarging the military budget and creating the psychological environment for imperial intervention. President Carter, despite his sharp expansion of military outlays and general moves to restore an atmosphere of great power conflict, has been criticized by liberals as well as conservatives for failing to develop a consistently aggressive posture and to proceed forthrightly to develop such new weapon systems as the neutron bomb.³⁶

In a typical lament, a Wall Street Journal editorial of July 12, 1978 observes sagely that “in the past few months, the Soviets have been toppling Third World nations like dominoes” in accord with “their assessment that this President and this administration can be successfully bullied, an assessment repeatedly borne out ever since their brutal rejection of the new administration’s strategic arms proposals quickly brought forth a U.S. retreat in the negotiations.” The strategic balance is shifting in favor of the USSR, while “on the psychological level, meanwhile, the U.S. has been wallowing in the wake of Vietnam, reducing defense spending and dismantling much of the CIA.” “To prevent even harsher Soviet bullying in the future, the administration should forget about travel schedules and get about such business as reversing the decision postponing the neutron warhead, building a workable covert capability for the CIA and accelerating the development of the cruise missile.” In short, back to the good old days.

One must at least admire the audacity of U.S. ideologists. Thus, only a few months after the war in Indochina ended, we find the respected political analyst Theodore Draper explaining that the Soviet Union has “had much more experience…than the Americans have had” in defining their interests “on a global basis” rather than on a solely continental basis, for “almost six decades.” As evidence he cites two examples: Russian support for North Korea and North Vietnam.³⁷ Surely these examples amply demonstrate how Russian imperialism surpasses the timid and hesitant United States in its extent, its scale, and the vigor with which it pursues its global objectives. Such amazing commentary, not unusual among the intelligentsia, can easily be understood on the assumption that the United States is merely engaged in “blundering efforts to do good” when it bombs dams in North Korea in an effort to starve the population into submission or drives the peasants of South Vietnam into “protected areas,” not to speak of earlier efforts in the Philippines and elsewhere.

Even as the Vietnam War was reaching its final stage, Kissinger directed the CIA to carry out subversion in Angola and to support a South African invasion and attacks from Zaire, setting off a Russian and Cuban counterreaction in support of the MPLA in Angola—which, predictably, is regularly offered by imperial apologists as proof of the decline of the West in the face of Russian aggression.³⁸

While President Carter has not taken a sufficiently militant stance to satisfy the editorialists of the New Republic and the Wall Street Journal, nevertheless on occasion he has been gratifyingly belligerent. In his Wake Forest address of March, 1978, Carter proclaimed that “for many years the U.S. has been a truly global power. Our longstanding concerns encompass our own security interests and those of our allies and friends beyond this hemisphere and Europe…We have important responsibilities to enhance peace in East Asia, the Middle East, the Persian Gulf, and in our own hemisphere. We have the will, and we must also maintain the capacity, to honor our commitments and to protect our interests in these critical areas.” He also announced that the Pentagon “is improving and will maintain quickly deployable forces—air, land, and sea—to defend our interests throughout the world,” and defended his increase of the military budget in violation of campaign pledges,³⁹ and contrary to Wall Street Journal fantasies.

After a brief eclipse, the “defense intellectuals” are once again receiving a respectful hearing from liberal commentators when they call for the use of force to “ensure access to vital resources or to protect embattled investments abroad.”⁴⁰ “Pauker deserves praise,” the liberal analyst of the Washington Post explains, “for defining sharply one alternative to [sic] a wiser policy.” Stephen S. Rosenfeld is impressed with Pauker’s analysis of the current North-South conflict, resulting from “the present stage of the political mobilization of the Third World, following several centuries of Western dominance” (Pauker). “Pauker is dealing with elements of the real world that too few other people are willing to look in the eye,” Rosenfeld admiringly reports, even though “one can argue with this or that assumption.” “Whether our frustration in coping with [the postwar world] leads, with Pauker, to a reliance on force or to new forms of accommodation is the question of the age.” History gives a good indication of how this question will be resolved, and how the liberal intelligentsia will react, when it is resolved.

The close association of domestic liberalism and international militancy is a familiar phenomenon. The liberal intellectuals of the New Republic circle took credit for leading an unwilling nation into World War I (victimized, as they failed to perceive, by a most effective British campaign of atrocity fabrication; see below, chapter 2, section 1). In more recent times, the liberal intelligentsia have given crucial support to programs of counterrevolutionary violence, justified in terms of “containment” and the other instruments of cold war rhetoric. The euphoria over Kennedy’s program of militarization, international subversion, and brinksmanship is a familiar example. In fact, the liberal intelligentsia were as critical of Eisenhower for his insufficient militancy as many of them are now of Carter for his vacillation in the face of threats to U.S. interests.⁴¹

In summary, there is every reason to suppose that the traditional U.S. government policies of international subversion and—when circumstances warrant—overt aggression will continue so as “to ensure access to vital resources or to protect embattled investments abroad” or the opportunity for future expansion of U.S.-based capital. The sources of these programs in domestic U.S. society have undergone no significant change. And the intelligentsia can be expected to resume their traditional role, somewhat eclipsed with the trauma of the war in Indochina, in support of state violence and terror. They will construct an appropriate version of history and an interpretation of the contemporary world that will enlist popular support for these programs, or at least ensure a requisite degree of passivity and unconcern. It is in this context that we must approach the investigation of how the propaganda system is coming to terms with developments in postwar Indochina.

1.2 Footnotes

For detailed analysis of this strategy, based on internal documents, see For Reasons of State, chapter 1, section V; also R.B. DuBoff, “Business ideology and foreign policy,” in The Pentagon Papers, Gravel edition, vol. 5, N. Chomsky and H. Zinn, eds., Critical Essays, Beacon, 1972. The rational imperial planning that always lay behind the U.S. intervention in Vietnam has been effectively written out of history by U.S. scholars, as inconsistent with the image of U.S. benevolence (or perhaps, “tragic error”) that “responsible scholarship” must convey. For some recent discussion see Chomsky, ‘Human Rights’ and American Foreign Policy, Spokesman, 1978; Intellectuals and the State, Het Wereldvenster, 1978.

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1. For details concerning this remarkable episode, see N. Chomsky, “The Peace Hoax,” Liberation, January 1973: “Endgame: the tactics of peace in Vietnam,” Ramparts, April 1973; “Reporting Indochina: the news media and the legitimation of lies,” Social Policy, September-October 1973. On the history of the negotiations and their aftermath, see Gareth Porter, A Peace Denied, Indiana, 1975.

2. Cf. AP, “U.S. Trade Embargo Against Hanoi Quietly Extended by President,” Washington Post, 14 September 1978: “President Carter, rebuffing persistent signals of friendship from Vietnam, is quietly extending the U.S. trade embargo against Hanoi.” Officials concede that there are “sound economic arguments for lifting the embargo,” since “trade with Vietnam could help cut back on the U.S. trade deficit.” But the importance of punishing the Vietnamese and internal political considerations far outweigh these concerns.

3. On these matters, see Gabriel Kolko, The Politics of War, Random House, 1969; Joyce and Gabriel Kolko, The Limits of Power, Harper & Row, 1972. On the United States and the European labor movement, see Ronald Radosh, American Labor and United States Foreign Policy, Random House, 1969; Alfred W. McCoy et al., The Politics of Heroin in Southeast Asia, Harper & Row, 1972, chapter 2; Fred Hirsch and Richard Fletcher, CIA and the Labour Movement, Spokesman, 1977; Roy Godson, American Labor and European Politics, Crane, Russak, & Co., 1976. This last work, based on internal AFL documents, explains how the AFL exploited postwar starvation to transfer power to its own associates by keeping food from their opponents, employed gangsters as strike breakers to split the labor movement, undermined efforts of French labor to block shipments to the French forces attempting to reconquer Indochina, and so on. All of this is presented in glowing terms as a great humanitarian achievement in defense of democracy, liberty, and a free trade union movement.

4. Trialogue, journal of the Trilateral Commission, no. 18, Summer, 1978, p. 15.

5. Richard West, “Re-fighting the Vietnam war,” Spectator, 16 July 1977. West was one of the more perceptive and independent-minded of the foreign correspondents in Vietnam for many years. On the consequences for the U.S. Army, see David Cortright, Soldiers in Revolt, Doubleday, 1975.

6. See the references of footnote 1.

7. Joseph Buttinger, Vietnam: The Unforgettable Tragedy, Horizon, 1977, p. 148.

8. T.D. Allman, “The U.S. refugee policy,” Manchester Guardian Weekly, 12 April 1975. It is interesting to compare the euphoric descriptions regularly offered by apologists. See e.g., P.J. Honey, “Viet Nam Argument,” Encounter, November 1965, for a typical example, in mid-course.

9. For details, see N. Chomsky and E.S. Herman, “Saigon’s Corruption Crisis,” Ramparts, December 1974; Porter, op. cit.; Buttinger, op. cit.; Maynard Parker, “Vietnam: The War That Won’t End,” Foreign Affairs, January 1975; Frank Snepp, Decent Interval, Random House, 1977.

10. Bernard Fall, Last Reflections on a War, Doubleday, 1967, pp. 33-34.

11. On the role of this prime candidate for a war crimes trial, as depicted largely in his own words, see N. Chomsky, For Reasons of State, Pantheon, 1973, pp. 87ff. Komer is now a respected official in the Human Rights administration.

12. Snepp, op. cit., p. 568. This book should be read with caution. Though Snepp resigned from the CIA and is critical of U.S. errors, he writes completely within the general framework of the state propaganda system and, despite his alleged expertise, repeatedly offers propaganda fabrications as fact. For example, Snepp repeats standard myths with regard to the North Vietnamese land reform and the Hue massacre (pp. 211, 354); his account suffers further from internal inconsistency in the numbers game. See Volume I, chapter 5, sections 2.2, 2.3. See also chapter 2, footnote 9, below.

13. 4 May 1977. The same editorial laments that the Northerners who “are streaming down to manage the reconstruction” are “dispersing the discontented middle classes, appropriating the consumer goods while denouncing them as alien”; while in Cambodia, Communist purges are “said to have taken hundreds of thousands of lives” and in “lovely little Laos,…the elites are fleeing to Thailand.” We return below to the question of how the Times reacted when it learned that “lovely little Laos” was being “secretly” bombed by the state it serves and to the alleged facts in this editorial about “what we have learned.”

14. See Volume I, chapter 5. The media do most of their editorializing in what are called “news reports,” a far more effective device since propaganda is disguised as objective fact. Thus in a column by Times Asia correspondent Fox Butterfield we read that “the Communist victory last year and the coming formal unification evidently have made the fiction of a separate southern movement no longer necessary,” New York Times (25 April 1976). That the separate southern movement was a fiction was, of course, a staple of U.S. propaganda, dutifully repeated by obedient journalists though rejected by many serious analysts; Bernard Fall, for example. Typically the Times simply intones government propaganda without qualification. Times correspondents could hardly be expected to take note of the fact that the southern movement, however one may debate its status, was destroyed by the U.S. aggression that the Times supported; how much more convenient to exploit this consequence as proof that it was a fiction no longer needed by the devious communists.

15. John Pilger, “Vietnam: Do not weep for those just born,” New Statesman, 15 September 1978; Canadian officials reported by 1965 that Vinh, a city of 60,000, had been flattened; cf. Fall, Last Reflections, pp. 232-33. See Jean and Simonne Lacouture. Vietnam: voyage à travers une victoire, Seuil, 1976, for a graphic eyewitness description of the extent and character of the damage to property and persons throughout Vietnam. The literature on the consequences of the U.S. war is substantial. See, among others, E.S. Herman, Atrocities in Vietnam: Myths and Realities, Pilgrim Press, 1970; J.B. Neiland, et al., Harvest of Death, Free Press, 1972; J.C. Pomonti, La Rage d’etre Vietnamien, Seuil, 1974; and many other sources.

16. Internal documents, in contrast, make it clear that the United States explicitly intended, from immediately after the “disaster” of the Geneva Accords, to use military force “to defeat local Communist subversion or rebellion not constituting armed attack,” in direct defiance of the “supreme law of the land” which restricts the use of force to self-defense against armed attack, and to extend the use of such force elsewhere, including China, if need be. NSC 5429/2, August 1954. These crucial and explicit recommendations were too hot to handle for the Pentagon Papers historians, who seriously misrepresented the contents of the document, and they are consistently ignored by academic scholarship, no doubt for similar reasons. Cf. For Reasons of State, pp. 100f.

17. Despite the massive destruction caused by the war, the NLF-PRG nevertheless was able to play a substantial role to the end. See, for example, the eyewitness report of the capture of Quang Ngai by southern PRG forces, with barely a shot being fired, by Earl S. Martin, a Mennonite social worker in Vietnam who was fluent in Vietnamese; Reaching the Other Side, Crown, 1978. The press generally referred only to a North Vietnamese invasion.

18. See Volume I, chapter 5, section 1.2. See also London Economist, “The bottle stayed corked,” 13 May 1978: “The original purpose of that long, inefficient war was to keep Indochina as the ‘cork in the bottle’” (our emphasis). The choice of adjective is revealing: would the Economist speak of the German bombing of England merely as “inefficient”? The distinction reflects the deep racist and imperialist assumptions that permeate Western liberal thought. We return directly to the quite comparable “pragmatic” opposition to the war on the part of U.S. “doves.”

19. This scandalous policy is based in part on rational imperial strategy, and in part simply on chauvinist pique of the sort expressed by Asian scholar Robert Scalapino of Berkeley, who said in Hong Kong that “We Americans have got used to the idea of aiding those we defeat in war, but I find it unacceptable for the U.S. to aid a country which has defeated us.” Far Eastern Economic Review, 15 July 1977.

20. Gavin Young, “The nonviolent war in Southeast Asia; Let’s see which system works best, say the members of ASEAN, a five-nation, noncommunist bloc, which is working to obliterate communism, not with bombs but with prosperity,” London Observer, reprinted in the Boston Globe (15 October 1978).

21. For discussion of these matters, see N. Chomsky, American Power and the New Mandarins, Pantheon, 1969; ‘Human Rights’ and American Foreign Policy. See Charles Kadushin, The American Intellectual Elite, Little, Brown, 1974, for detailed analysis of attitudes of a certain group of intellectuals towards the war.

22. Mitchell S. Ross, New Republic, 18 June 1977.

23. We cannot take the space here to explore the astonishing comparison between the support of volunteers for the Spanish Loyalists against Franco’s Moroccan army backed by military forces from Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy, with U.S. government intervention to impose and support client fascism in South Vietnam. Notice how, in Peters’ account, the U.S. military forces that were bombing South Vietnamese before we “began to go wrong” in 1965 have become “volunteers” who were “help[ing] the South.” By the term “South,” Peters is referring to the client regime established by the United States, not the people of South Vietnam, who, as U.S. analysts at the time and later were well aware, had little use for the U.S. creation and to a substantial extent supported the NLF (about half the population, according to U.S. analysts, a higher proportion than supported the American rebels in the revolutionary war; see chapter 2, section 2).

24. “Deliverance,” editorial, Washington Post (30 April 1975).

25. New York Times (21, 24 April, 1 May 1975).

26. Richard Strout (TRB), New Republic, 25 April 1975.

27. The real ends of U.S. intervention in Indochina, as disclosed by state documents, indicate an almost total amorality and willingness to use force in complete disregard of law to achieve balance of power and economic objectives. Democracy, independence, self-determination and the welfare of Indochina were useful manipulative symbols, but their relevance to policy decisions of U.S. leaders approached zero in value.

28. Dissent, Summer 1964; Russell’s criticism is reprinted in Bertrand Russell, War Crimes in Vietnam, Monthly Review Press, 1967.

29. Editor’s comment, Dissent, Spring 1975. They have yet to comment on their confident prediction that “all” of the millions of people who fought against the Communists would be slaughtered, their reason for supporting the U.S. “intervention,” which by 1964 already involved major U.S. military activities, massive forced-population removal, and other atrocities.

30. Dissent, Fall 1978. They explain that while they do not accept the premises of the question, others are raising it, so that it should be discussed; evidently, they consider it a serious question, worthy of discussion. On the ambiguity of their own current attitudes towards the exercise of force and violence by the United States, see the comments by the editors on the question of military intervention.

31. See chapter 6, footnote 7.

32. Cited by Marilyn Young, “Critical Amnesia,” Nation, 2 April 1977, from the New Republic, 22 January 1977. Young discusses this and other comparable reviews of Emerson’s book in the New York Times and the New York Review of Books.

33. Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr., The Bitter Heritage: Vietnam and American Democracy, 1941-1966, Houghton Mifflin, 1966.

34. On the so-called “McCarthyite period,” a term that minimizes the role of cold war liberals, see David Caute, The Great Fear: the Anti-Communist Purge under Truman and Eisenhower, Simon and Schuster, 1978; Mary S. McAuliffe, Crisis on the Left: Cold war Politics and American Liberals, 1947-1954, University of Massachusetts, 1978; Robert J. Goldstein, Political Repression in Modern America, Schenkman, 1978. See also Richard M. Freeland, The Truman Doctrine and the Origins of McCarthyism, Knopf, 1972; Michael P. Rogin, The Intellectuals and McCarthy: the Radical Specter, MIT, 1967. On the extensive and quite effective repression by the national political police (FBI) during the 1960s, see Morton H. Halperin et al., The Lawless State, Penguin, 1976; N. Blackstock, ed., COINTELPRO, Random House, 1976; Dave Dellinger, More Power than We Know. Doubleday, 1975. The scale of FBI activities can be appreciated from one minor revelation. In civil suits charging the FBI with illegal surveillance it was revealed by the Bureau that in the Chicago office alone—one of 59 field offices—there were 3,207 linear feet of files under the “subversive” and “extremist” classifications, an estimated 7.7 million pages. From 1966 the Chicago FBI office paid out more than $2.5 million to 5,145 informants. These classifications do not include sedition, sabotage, or other criminal investigative files. In the “subversive” classification there are such organizations as the American Civil Liberties Union; under “extremists” we find CORE, NAACP, the Afro-American Patrolmen’s League, Rev. Jesse Jackson’s operation PUSH, etc. Rob Warden, Washington Post (9 April 1978). The Chicago documents also acknowledge an FBI break-in at the offices of the Chicago Committee to Defend the Bill of Rights, which was formed during the “McCarthy” period to oppose government repression. Washington Post, AP (21 January 1978). On the efforts of the FBI in Chicago to incite murder of Black leaders and their involvement in political assassination when these efforts failed, see the references cited above. FBI surveillance was the least significant of the disruptive and often violent acts initiated by the Federal Government as opposition to its policies developed. On the “staggering dimensions” of FBI actions to ruin the personal lives of dissenters, foment violence, etc. see William M. Kunstler, “Writers of the Purple Page,” Nation, 30 December 1978.

35. lnternews International Bulletin, 13 February 1978.

36. See for example the New Republic editorial, 29 April 1978, a defense of Carter against criticism which is coupled with a complaint that he and his advisers have only “vague notions about the East-West conflict which remains the central fact of international relations today.” The editors continue: “We thought we saw the beginnings of a coherent strategy in Carter’s ‘tough’ talk several weeks ago at Winston-Salem, North Carolina. But then the neutron bomb decision indicated that the president had been only talking.”

37. Theodore Draper, “Appeasement & Détente,” Commentary, February 1976.

38. John Stockwell, In Search of Enemies, Norton, 1978. Stockwell was CIA station chief in Angola. He provides authoritative evidence that, despite the claims of Carter and the mass media, Soviet intervention in Angola followed that of the United States (pp. 66-67). He resigned in protest from the CIA after Katangese based in Angola invaded their native province in Zaire (apparently, with considerable local support). According to Stockwell, the CIA had warned of such retaliation if the United States persisted in supporting attacks on Angola mounted from Zaire, but the warning was ignored by Kissinger, who seems to have been interested in developing an international confrontation with the Russians as his efforts to subvert the Paris agreements collapsed in Vietnam. Cf. John Stockwell, “Why I am Leaving the CIA,” Washington Post (10 April 1977). See Seymour M. Hersh, “Kissinger-Colby Briefings on C.I.A. Called Misleading by Senate Panel,” New York Times (16 July 1978), on how Kissinger and Colby “misled Congress about the extent of the Central Intelligence Agency’s activities in the 1975 civil war in Angola, according to sources with first-hand knowledge”—to put it more bluntly, lied to Congress, the least significant but most discussed element of this sordid affair.

39. Cited by Clayton Fritchey, “Encore for Pax Americana,” Washington Post (25 March 1978). Fritchey is critical of the renewal of interventionist ideology.

40. Stephen S. Rosenfeld, “The case for using force against the third world,” Washington Post (5 May 1978), citing a Rand Corporation study by Guy J. Pauker. See also C. Cooper et al., The American Experience with Pacification in Vietnam: an Overview of Pacification, NTIS, U.S. Department of Commerce, March 1972, a study of pacification commissioned by the Pentagon and undertaken by the Institute for Defense Analysis, a university-based consortium, which “derives doctrinal and operational lessons from the US experience with pacification in South Vietnam to guide US policy-makers in providing technical assistance and advice in the future to a friendly government facing an internal security problem.” The study explains the problems caused, for example, by the threat of “political struggle” from 1956 (13), and later, “the vast swarms of refugees from Viet Cong controlled or bombed-out villages” (xvi; “most [refugees fled] from battle-ravaged and bomb-destroyed hamlets and villages” (48), which confounded “American and Vietnamese humanitarian efforts” (xvi)), and by the “local bully boys…[who]…have made Saigon into a seething social jungle”(49). Other problems are caused by “our strong sense of social justice and morality” which leads us to take over programs best left to the friendly government (43). Some of the techniques suggested “should be tried on a pilot basis in one or two other insurgency situations (e.g., the Philippines)” (61).

41. Cf. Richard B. Du Boff and E.S. Herman, “The New Economics: Handmaiden of Inspired Truth,” Review of Radical Political Economics, August 1972; Richard J Walton, Cold War and Counterrevolution: the Foreign Policy of John F. Kennedy, Penguin, 1973.