The year was 1968. General William Childs Westmoreland, commander of US military operations, had just dropped off a communications uplink to Lyndon B. Johnson. LBJ was famous for his stonewalling, the Johnson treatment they called it, and Westy was his repeat target. The Vietcong had just launched the most ambitious belligerent military campaign of the conflict, the TET Offensive, which sought to deliver an inexorable blow to Saigon, cripple the Western effort and erode the resolve of the Americans from their living rooms. Frenzied Vietcong would be injected into over one hundred strategically important areas in Southern Vietnam, important with regards to their geographical, psychological, commercial and demographic properties. Small scale ‘terror’ attacks would disorientate their foe whose technological and militaristic capability was unparalleled.
War had never been such an intimate experience. The telecommunications explosion of the post-WW2 era had resulted in a proliferation in visual media and thus an accessible medium for the people to interact with the front line, without the fear of stray flak stinging their sides. The long screwdriver of command had suddenly evolved into a gargantuan hypodermic syringe which delivered a stimulating dose of free-press liberalism into the proceedings.
Westy was famous for never losing a battle under the stars and stripes. Under his command American forces had repelled everything the Vietcong and the NVA had to offer. A quick analysis of the death toll suggests that for every one American killed in battle ten Vietnamese also fell. In spite of this he is remembered as one of the perpetrators, and champions, of America’s most ignominious politico-militaristic period. Võ Nguyên Giáp, second in command to the infamous Ho Chi Minh, stated, iconically, that Westy’s apparent tactical mastery was insignificant; his ability to win decisive tactical victories was not important. He had betrayed the core tenet of Clausewitz, the sagacious Prussian military commander of the 19th Century; he had failed to comprehend the nature of the war he was fighting. While American forces became increasingly beleaguered, dissatisfied with seemingly perpetual conflict, and ever shrouded by futility and death, the public’s desire to wage war was eroded by an increasingly puissant media influence that was accentuated by the ingenious propaganda strategy of the Vietnamese. Breaking into the most secure location in Vietnam, the American embassy in Saigon, had been the trigger release. LBJ not only signed his own political death warrant but validated the witness: once he’d lost Walter Cronkite, he’d lost Middle-America.
America’s failure in Vietnam taught us that the hearts and minds of an indigenous populous must surely be won, under appropriate circumstances and through pacification, in order for military success to be assured. However, such an approach is impossible if the hearts and minds of the home nation are dissenting. Yet it was not widespread national pacification that was the issue for the Americans in Vietnam. Revisionist history has gone some way to suggest that the majority of America, the Caucasian blue-collar contingent, weren’t as dissatisfied as the vociferous classes. Indeed, war provided the majority with employment; war provided an opportunity for social ascendancy. For the American lower-classes enlisting was, and arguably remains, a means to an end; with soldiering comes the opportunity for college scholarship and social betterment. The conditions in Afghanistan are not wholly concurring. Technological mediums have become so pervasive that even the lowest classes have far wider access to digital information than their forebears. Whilst they are perhaps less vociferous than the chattering middle-classes, who stand complete with their social acceptability validated in a university transcript, a semi-detached villa in the suburbs of a garden-city and 42inch 1080p HD Television, they are profoundly more connected to social discourse than their antecedents. Perhaps social networking has facilitated this, macrocosmically speaking, perhaps it was the ubiquity and, therefore, relative cheapness of devices capable of transferring information. Whatever the case the average soldier in Afghanistan is more connected to his outside world, and indeed, the average journalist is more connected to the front-line than those who served in Vietnam, or at least in a superficial sense.
Afghanistan, obviously, shares some tentative links with Vietnam. They both host a populous which is generally at odds with Western ideals of consumerist liberty and morality. They are both controlled, if one can excuse such arrant Daily Mailism, by puissant ideologies: dogmatic communism for Vietnam and, certainly for some of the population, an adherence to zealous Islamist fundamentalism in Afghanistan. Yet the informed reader will know just how much of a startling generalisation this is and how divergent, and devoid of hybridism, said ideologies are. Fundamentally the countries are like chalk and cheese. Vietnam has a population of ninety million souls, Afghanistan a significantly smaller twenty-eight. Afghanistan is land-locked; Vietnam has immediate and direct access to the South China Sea. People love to make comparisons; yet psychologically, in terms of identity and cultural divergence, such comparisons are instantly fallacious. The average middle-aged Afghani is significantly worse off than his Vietnamese counterpart, Afghanistan scores a meagre 0.352 on the Human Development Index; Vietnam scores a positively developing 0.572. Afghanistan is a country of incredible poverty, where employment is most readily found in dubious poppy cultivation against one of middling, yet developing, affluence in Vietnam. So how can we make speculations which inevitably draw the two together? I’m not the first and I will certainly not be the last.
Vietnam has become etymologically ambiguous; it now seems to signify a euphemism for ‘American military cock-up’ rather than a country in South East Asia. Yet this cock-up was multifaceted. Vietnam is a classic example of a conflict which was not fought appropriately. The Americans fought the Vietnam War as a generic European war of attrition, with large conventional set-piece armies and an obsession, bordering on a fetish, for the zenith of technological capability. Old military assumptions which had served Ulysses S Grant from Cold Harbour to General Patton in the Ardennes merely stagnated within the minds of imaginatively inept American strategists and logisticians. These assumptions transmuted into a cold and stoic realisation of American confidence, fired by the fuels of will and the assumption of superiority. Wars had been successfully fought in the old way, and by God, they’d continue to be fought successfully. The mass deployment of airborne cavalry, think Huey and his meaner brother Huey-Cobra, and the succession of ‘Ouch’ tactic strategic bombing, whose roots lay in the thought-processes of a futuristic RAND company obsessed with the prospect of fighting a graduated nuclear war, did obviously not bode well in a country defined by a guerrilla militia with a tendency to hide in inordinately small holes to avoid capture and corrupt small villages with anti-American ideology and small arms. America realised too late, with the onset of Tricky Dicky’s presidency that the burgeoning domestic dissatisfaction with the war which led to Vietnamisation and the appointment of a more placid commander of operations in Creighton Adams would translate to American disaster. Before the hearts and minds of the Vietnamese could be won the American public broke the bones of the US Army. Stabbed in the back by burgeoning taxes to support an increasingly large war effort in a time of relative domestic need, the US vociferous classes had had enough. They screamed at their sets with the anger of a generation whenever LBJ and later Nixon appeared on screen.
So would anything have worked? More comprehensive interdiction along the Ho Chi Minh trail sounded agreeable, but it would probably have dragged Laos and Cambodia further into the conflict and maybe then even the Soviet Union and the PRC. Village pacification was perhaps the only coherent policy; yet even then would the average peasant farmer of South Vienam’s paddy fields have bowed to their capitalist conquerors and smiled, contently, as they installed flagrant rates, or obsequiously nodded as their inherited land was desecrated and a fledgling tax system was installed by these exogenous peoples. Perhaps Vietnam, like Afghanistan, was unwinnable. Perhaps the families of 58,000 servicemen have the right to wake up in the morning and sniff at the unquenchably conflagrant, napalm-esque, vehemence of American paranoia at the height of the Cold War. Perhaps they have the right to think that their offspring’s, their friend’s, blood was spilt over a nightmare scenario proposed over a Bilderberg luncheon that envisaged the denizens of North Vietnam scrambling over the beaches of Palo Alto and lobbing hand-grenades at Silicon Valley and marching ever forward towards Washington, through the corn fields of Iowa, with Mao Zedong and Nikita Khrushchev in tow.
Is Afghanistan different? The numbers pale in comparison. 60,000 American soldiers serve in Afghanistan compared to the half a million that trampled over Vietnam. Britain has committed approximately 10,000 to the cause since their affiliation in 2001. Despite relatively low losses the allied countries have both faced mass dissatisfaction, both in public and militaristic spheres, with the ignominy of Iraq tarnishing the relatively credible military involvement in Afghanistan. However, both countries are committed to continuing the operation. The situation in Afghanistan has become worse with a proliferation of IED instances, suicide bombing and Taliban insurgency, and, accordingly, there will be no reduction in personnel. In comparison the Vietnam War peaked around 1968-72 and was followed by a mass withdrawal process; the media having tarnished any credibility with regards to a militaristic presence in the area like as in Iraq. However, one question springs to mind. In light of a seemingly irresolvable scenario what are the additional troops for? Seemingly they are a mere tourniquet to staunch the bleeding of a nation which has been at odds with itself since time immemorial. Fodder for a new generation of canon, canon screaming Jihad, equipped with mash-up pipe bombs and RPGs and a religious justification to kill. If strategic and political reconciliation is needed then why the need for extra armaments, and can the blood-soaked dunes of Helmand ever realistically become a forum for diplomacy and concession?
The Taliban, arguably, poses a larger risk to global security than the NVA did. Their utilisation of terror-tactics, suicide bombing and their affiliation to Al-Qaeda makes them unpredictable, sporadic and impossible to constrain. The armed Vietnamese warrior storming the beaches of California today seems a ridiculous spectacle and one which perhaps wasn’t taken as seriously as the very real prospect of a terror attack on a densely populated area. It is a truism to suggest that 911 and the London bombings changed everyone’s perceptions pertaining to what kind of damage relatively small-scale, with regards to the manpower and planning required, terror attacks could manifest. Although both wars were ideological, Vietnam was not seen as a metaphysical crusade. The West’s involvement in Afghanistan raises an ideological and a religious question which masquerades in plain morality; we are ingloriously given sides: the ‘evil’ terrorist threat, the Mujahideen human-bomb VS the humanistic altruism of the West and we all choose the obvious. Yet the moral question surrounding the ubiquity of collateral damage inevitably caused by increasing involvement, played down as a mere by-product of conflict, the murder of civilians, the destruction of their homes and livelihoods in pursuit of a greater good; a greater good fuelled by £70,000 a piece Javelin explosions, seems to have been worryingly avoided by politicians. Michael Moor’s Fahrenheit 911 seems to raise this question poignantly in his accosting of senators on the steps of the Capital and his petitioning for them to enlist their offspring. None did. But this isn’t Iraq. There is a grounding to Afghanistan, a validating reason why we are there, which didn’t exist in the Gulf and the complementary presuppositions surrounding WMDs. T.W.A.T is the reason for why we are in Afghanistan. My only fear is that in attempting to combat Terror we are promulgating its ideology further. 21st Century ‘Terror’ is a myth which has penetrated the imagination of human beings across the Northern Hemisphere. The myth has evolved from an idea and both are impervious to machine-gun fire or Javelin strike. While Bin Laden may be dead his legacy is not. Afghanistan is deteriorating into an impossible war, a black-hole which is sucking the life out of civilians and the military alike. As more troops are committed the fighting will intensify, the Taliban’s resolve will become accentuated. The shrill cries of Taliban vengeance are already being heard, resounding around the desert plains of Helmand. Afghanistan cannot fully become Vietnam; we cannot draw our troops out and pray for the best. As a home-owner returning from a holiday to find that his condo has been trashed by a poltergeist we have merely complicated the situation by involving the police, knowing the perpetrator will never be caught. We have taken a Javelin to a distorted Qu’ran.
Political diplomacy and rational discourse with the Taliban seems to be a morally correct suggestion, a fix-all and enlightened solution to an ever-widening problem. Yet, I cannot help but feel that it is a suggestion uttered by the limp optimist in the corner, himself fishing, unsuccessfully, for ideas. In simple terms, it would be easy and expedient to see diplomacy work but how can rational cease-fire be conducted or orchestrated with an enemy who is blind, deaf, dumb, disorganised and incapable of comprehending Western cultural and moralistic machinations? Like a tiger with its hind-legs maimed, the Taliban will lash out violently and sporadically. The recent terror attack which claimed the life of President Karzai’s brother reminds us, poignantly, that this enemy will stop at nothing to promulgate its message of fear. The world is united in the sense that the Taliban will unreservedly and universally spill the blood of any opposing force, be it Muslim, Christian, Capitalist or Agnostic. ‘Hearts and Minds’ perhaps stands as the only means to defeat an enemy which is nourished from within. The enemy is one that is sustained by an environment defined by corruption. The Taliban continues to derive inordinate wealth and support from Afghanistan’s unparalleled narcotics manufacturing ring. For interfering governments to really change the country they will have to win over the local populous, improve the livelihoods that they, themselves, have inadvertently pulverised and mobilise them into a force willing and capable of promoting an indefatigable and virtuous anti-terror message. The British Army, supported by the Coalition government, it seems, is hearing this message, tackling the hearts and minds of the populous by utilising a more coherent policy of interdiction and pacification than ever attempted before. However, this is not a partisan question. The future of Afghanistan cannot be party-centric. The question surrounding the rapidity of our withdrawal is muti-faceted and should incorporate the best interests of Afghan civilians, be rationalised towards the capability of ANA (Afghan National Army) and should be formulated in correspondence with those Army officials who have adequate experience and knowledge. Although Clausewitz stated that war is a continuation of politics via other means, I strongly disagree that this is a question that can be answered solely from the shelter and comfort of Westminster’s aged green-padded seats.
Matthew Key - UBLD Secretary