US will abandon the ‘unwinnable’ proxy war in Ukraine like they ended their failure in Vietnam
The withdrawal from Ukraine will share the same feeling of regret – that sense that America overcommitted to a war it had no business winning – as the conclusion of the US combat role in south-east Asia, writes Professor Joseph M. Siracusa.
Fifty years ago, the Paris Peace Conference agreed to the US withdrawal of all troops and advisors from Vietnam, ending America’s combat role in Southeast Asia.
It is inherently significant, because, up to then, it was the biggest disaster in the history of American foreign policy.
The loss of treasure and life was unprecedented.
The Department of Defence estimated that from 1961 until President Thieu collapsed in April 1975, the US spent more than $141 billion in Indo-China – or $7,000 each for South Vietnam’s 20 million souls.
Loss of life was heavy.
From the 1961 death of James Thomas Davis, revealed by Lyndon B. Johnson as the first American to fall in defence of freedom in Vietnam, until the Paris accords in January 1973, US casualties numbered 350,00 with 58,000 killed (40,000 in combat).
Vietnamese casualties (North and South) topped two million, with more than 241,000 South Vietnamese dying in combat, along with more than one million combined North Vietnamese and Viet Cong combat deaths and 300,00 MIAs.
“It is also relevant to the present,” observed the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft, “on the question of ‘betraying’ an ally – as applied not only to the US withdrawal from Afghanistan, but to the US engagement in Ukraine and the implicit commitment to persevere.”
The meaning and lessons of the Vietnam War pretty much tell us how Washington will quit its proxy war with Russia in Ukraine, and then how it’ll sell it to the American people.
Never ours to win
One thing about the Vietnam War has remained constant: No politician, policymaker, or analyst has ever seriously argued that the US could have won the Vietnam War.
They have, however, at the time – and since then – offered a myriad of reasons why this was the case.
As early as 1970 thoughtful observers such as Walter Lippmann, the doyen of American journalists, set about the task of analysing what went wrong.
The proposition struck Lippmann as somewhat absurd: “Here we are, some 200 million of us, with the greatest armaments that any country has ever possessed, and there are the North Vietnamese, some 20 million of them, with a primitive industrial system. Yet we have been unable to make them do what we want them to do.”
Lippmann thought that he had the answer as to why this had occurred.
“Because,” he reasoned, “armed peasants who are willing to die are a match for the mightiest power.
“Recognising as legitimate the restraints implicit in unnecessarily drawing in China and the Soviet Union, the United States military, according to Lippmann, found itself with an impossible task: “Thus, our failure in Vietnam sprang from a great mistake. We asked the armed forces to do what it was not possible for them to do.”
Other critiques of Vietnam focused on the character of US involvement, with particular attention paid to the nature of the commitment.
Louis J. HaIIe, a former career officer in the State Department and an historian, contended: “If we will only brush the dust of polemical rhetoric out of our eyes, we shall see that we are not fighting in Indo-China for imperialistic reasons, that we are not fighting there, because we want to increase our territorial possessions or build an empire.
Why, then? “We are,” he asserted, “fighting there because in a moment of national aberration, we acted on a false conception of what the situation was.”
Alongside the theses of the “great mistake” and “national aberration” was also added the equally significant theme of the unsuitability of exporting democratic institutions and practices to certain foreign soils.
To emphasise the point, Secretary of State Henry Kissinger was elsewhere repeating the same message.
Before the annual meeting of the American Society of Newspaper Editors, Kissinger asked the American people to put the Vietnam War behind them:
“The Vietnam debate has now run its course. The time has come for restraint and compassion. The Administration has made its case. Let all now abide by the verdict of the Congress – without recriminations or vindictiveness.”
When pressed however at a news conference in late April as to what lessons could be drawn from the war, the Secretary attempted to reserve the question for a later occasion, except to say: “I do not think that we can resolve the problem of having entered the conflict too lightly by leaving it too lightly, either.”
Further, he hoped “that no lessons should be drawn from the enemies of our friends from the experiences in Vietnam.”
No lessons drawn, indeed.
The US withdrawal from the unwinnable conflict in Ukraine will play out in much the same way.
Fifty years ago, the Paris Peace Conference agreed to the US withdrawal of all troops and advisors from Vietnam, ending America’s combat role in Southeast Asia.
It is inherently significant, because, up to then, it was the biggest disaster in the history of American foreign policy.
The loss of treasure and life was unprecedented.
The Department of Defence estimated that from 1961 until President Thieu collapsed in April 1975, the US spent more than $141 billion in Indo-China – or $7,000 each for South Vietnam’s 20 million souls.
Loss of life was heavy.
Vietnamese casualties (North and South) topped two million, with more than 241,000 South Vietnamese dying in combat, along with more than one million combined North Vietnamese and Viet Cong combat deaths and 300,00 MIAs.
“It is also relevant to the present,” observed the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft, “on the question of ‘betraying’ an ally – as applied not only to the US withdrawal from Afghanistan, but to the US engagement in Ukraine and the implicit commitment to persevere.”
The meaning and lessons of the Vietnam War pretty much tell us how Washington will quit its proxy war with Russia in Ukraine, and then how it’ll sell it to the American people.
Never ours to win
One thing about the Vietnam War has remained constant: No politician, policymaker, or analyst has ever seriously argued that the US could have won the Vietnam War.
They have, however, at the time – and since then – offered a myriad of reasons why this was the case.
As early as 1970 thoughtful observers such as Walter Lippmann, the doyen of American journalists, set about the task of analysing what went wrong.
Lippmann thought that he had the answer as to why this had occurred.
“Because,” he reasoned, “armed peasants who are willing to die are a match for the mightiest power.”
Recognising as legitimate the restraints implicit in unnecessarily drawing in China and the Soviet Union, the United States military, according to Lippmann, found itself with an impossible task: “Thus, our failure in Vietnam sprang from a great mistake. We asked the armed forces to do what it was not possible for them to do.”
Other critiques of Vietnam focused on the character of US involvement, with particular attention paid to the nature of the commitment.
Louis J. HaIIe, a former career officer in the State Department and an historian, contended: “If we will only brush the dust of polemical rhetoric out of our eyes, we shall see that we are not fighting in Indo-China for imperialistic reasons, that we are not fighting there, because we want to increase our territorial possessions or build an empire.
Why, then? “We are,” he asserted, “fighting there because in a moment of national aberration, we acted on a false conception of what the situation was.”
Alongside the theses of the “great mistake” and “national aberration” was also added the equally significant theme of the unsuitability of exporting democratic institutions and practices to certain foreign soils.
Chester L. Cooper, a well-known Asianist and Director of the International Division of the Institute for Defense Analysis, presented this argument in unequivocal language.
“In the past,” wrote Cooper directly to the point, “we should have been more prudent and have insisted upon some minimum standards of stability, appeal, and effectiveness before committing major resources to South Vietnam’s aid – no matter how assiduous the Prime Minister, no matter how attractive the people.”
“Let’s call the whole thing off”
With the battle plainly lost, President Gerald Ford dramatically shifted his ground.
At Tulane University in New Orleans, after the fall of Saigon, Ford told a largely friendly audience, “I ask tonight that we stop refighting the battles and recriminations of the past.
To emphasise the point, Secretary of State Henry Kissinger was elsewhere repeating the same message.
Before the annual meeting of the American Society of Newspaper Editors, Kissinger asked the American people to put the Vietnam War behind them:
“The Vietnam debate has now run its course. The time has come for restraint and compassion. The Administration has made its case. Let all now abide by the verdict of the Congress – without recriminations or vindictiveness.”
When pressed however at a news conference in late April as to what lessons could be drawn from the war, the Secretary attempted to reserve the question for a later occasion, except to say: “I do not think that we can resolve the problem of having entered the conflict too lightly by leaving it too lightly, either.”
Moments later, when asked whether or not the war had so stunned the nation that it might never again come to the economic and military aid of a friend such as Israel, Kissinger conceded: “One lesson we must learn from this experience is that we must be very careful in the commitments we make, but that we should scrupulously honour those commitments that we make.”
Further, he hoped “that no lessons should be drawn from the enemies of our friends from the experiences in Vietnam.”
No lessons drawn, indeed.
The US withdrawal from the unwinnable conflict in Ukraine will play out in much the same way.
Professor Joseph Siracusa is Dean of Global Futures at Curtin University.