"If you do nothing enough, something's bound to happen" - Benjamin Daniel Katz
In his new book, Triumph Forsaken, Mark Moyar refers to this interpretation of Vietnam as the "orthodox" school of thought. So entrenched is this orthodox interpretation that its proponents consider axiomatic their premise that U.S. involvement in Vietnam was at best a lapse in judgment, at worst a criminal enterprise, and in any case a tragic mistake. The "revisionist" school, a growing insurgency in military history that Moyar explicitly represents, sees Vietnam as "a worthy but improperly executed enterprise."
Moyar's focus is on the formative years of the conflict, before the major commitment of U.S. combat forces in 1965. He considers the key assertions that undergird the orthodox interpretation of events, and shows their weaknesses, if not outright inaccuracies. The story focuses on Ngo Dinh Diem, the first president of the Republic of Vietnam, who came to power (as prime minister) in 1954. The U.S.-backed 1963 coup that resulted in Diem's death was by most accounts the watershed event in the history of the war; it led inexorably to the large-scale commitment of U.S. ground forces two years later.
The orthodox histories present Diem as a clueless tyrant who was losing control of the country -- as a Catholic aloofly ruling a land of Buddhists, influenced by the Marie Antoinette-like attitude of his sister-in-law Madame Nhu. Moyar convincingly argues that this depiction of Diem is false, the product of U.S. press bias and the cultural illiteracy of Henry Cabot Lodge Jr., the U.S. ambassador to Vietnam. Diem was in no wise an ineffectual leader. Unlike those who followed him, he was able to make order. Diem neutralized the vast organized-crime empires that initially threatened his authority. He kept a lid on the militant Buddhist movement that was in league with the North. Moreover, with the help of U.S. advisers -- including former OSS operative Edward Lansdale and Lt. Gen. Samuel "Hanging Sam" Williams -- he was able to mount an effective campaign to diminish the influence of the Communists in the South. Internal Communist-party documents from the North show that the party suffered massive defections and defeats in the late 1950s, in some areas losing 90 percent of its cadres. Diem's success was no secret; in 1959 the New York Times dubbed his rule since 1954 "a five-year miracle."
By then Diem was at his zenith. In 1960 Ho Chi Minh, frustrated at the failure of the party to foment an uprising in the South, declared a renewed armed struggle and began dispatching waves of soldiers and supplies southward. Diem's internal opponents were given new confidence. When Lodge arrived, he took an instant dislike to Diem, primarily because Lodge thought he knew better how to run South Vietnam, and Diem had the temerity to think otherwise. The U.S. pushed Diem to make conciliatory gestures to various protest groups, particularly the Buddhists, which played into the hands of the Communists. A noteworthy State Department cable from this period observed that one of Diem's concessions "appears to have had no effect on militants." In fact, Diem's U.S.-mandated acts of conciliation had emboldened his enemies, since they read compromise as weakness. This contributed to the self-reinforcing story line that led to the coup -- fear of losing control of the situation in South Vietnam on the part of those who did not know how to keep order led them to hobble the one man who did. Increasing disorder fed Lodge's propensity to micromanage, which stiffened Diem's resistance. He was finally removed for not being the puppet ruler his adversaries accused him of being.
One very effective enemy psychological operation was the use of Buddhist demonstrators. Diem, a Catholic, was charged with oppressing the more numerous Buddhists. Moreover, with their exotic robes and regalia the Buddhists were well suited to garnering the attentions of the press. They presented an attractive story line, one that played to the American sense of religious freedom and fair play. For example, when Diem sought to close some Buddhist pagodas that had become subversive headquarters, it raised the same kinds of concerns one hears when contemporary authorities scrutinize the similar abuse of mosques.
The Buddhists were portrayed as well-intentioned reformers with no ties to the Communists, a notion central to the orthodox critique of Diem; but the most important of the militant Buddhist leaders, Tri Quang, was the brother of the North Vietnamese Communist official in charge of subversion in the South. Many of the protesters were Communist provocateurs who had simply shaved their heads and donned saffron robes.
A key contributor to the downfall of the regime was anti-Diem press coverage, the type written by Stanley Karnow, David Halberstam, and Neil Sheehan, among others. One might think that reporters who spent their time covering a country from the inside might be counted on to offer significant insights, but a congressional fact-finding mission in 1963 found the in-country American reporters to be "arrogant, emotional, unobjective, and ill-informed." Karnow, Halberstam, and Sheehan all relied a great deal on a Vietnamese journalist named Pham Xuan An, a stringer for Reuters. He helped the journalists interpret political events, always in a light unfavorable to Diem. The Americans did not know that Pham was a Communist agent who had been instructed by the party to become a journalist in order to influence Western media views of Vietnam. (Today, many news services rely on Iraqi stringers, and it is common practice for insurgents and their sympathizers to produce staged videos and concoct anti-Coalition stories to feed to the credulous Westerners. One example is Bilal Hussein, an AP photographer who is said to have strong insurgent ties and was taken into custody in a terrorist safe house.)
Moyar is sympathetic to President Kennedy, downplaying his desire for and knowledge of the coup, and placing most of the blame on Lodge, who was pursuing a private vendetta. The coup was generally hailed by the liberal establishment: The New York Times called it "inevitable . . . and highly desirable." But Moyar argues (and even some orthodox historians agree) that the coup was a momentous blunder. It ushered in a series of weak governments, which in turn emboldened Hanoi to make a major push toward victory. Moyar takes effective aim at the orthodox argument that the August 1964 Tonkin Gulf incident was engineered by Lyndon Johnson as an excuse to pursue escalation in Vietnam. In fact, at the time, LBJ was criticized for not responding vigorously enough, and the first large-scale U.S. combat actions did not take place until the summer of 1965, a year after Tonkin.
Johnson himself said, as early as April 1965, that "our restraint [after the Tonkin Gulf incident] was viewed as weakness; our desire to limit conflict was viewed as prelude to our surrender." But he did not internalize this lesson, and the use of "graduated force" in Vietnam, which was intended to convey U.S. resolve, had the opposite effect. This is a common critique in military circles, credited to Harry Summers. The proper response to provocation is not to dole out force in small doses; rather, it is to employ the traditional American way of war, sudden, unrestrained violence in pursuit of total victory. Where Americans have fought wars that way, we have won. Where we have not, we have lost. The accepted wisdom in the Vietnam period was that had the U.S. extended the ground war to the North (as many military leaders wanted), China would have intervened, leading to a second Korean War. Moyar notes that newly obtained Chinese sources fail to support this notion. One might add that the "Second Korean War" scenario looks pretty good compared with what actually happened, since in Korea we suffered two-thirds the casualties of Vietnam (killed and wounded), and we maintained the South's freedom.
Throughout the book Moyar takes up the contentions that form the bulwark of the orthodox interpretation. Would JFK have withdrawn from Vietnam had he lived? No, if anything he would have escalated the American commitment. Was Ho Chi Minh just a nationalist leader seeking the peaceful reunification of his country? No, he was a hard-core Leninist who sought to extend his rule as far as it would go, whether the people he ruled wanted it or not. The book is meticulously documented; it draws on the substantial U.S. documentary record of the war, bringing fresh perspectives to familiar evidence. Moyar augments and supports his analysis with extensive use of North Vietnamese archival material, most of which was unavailable to the orthodox historians of the 1970s and '80s.
In sum, Triumph Forsaken is an important book -- not only as an interpretation of the Vietnam War, but also as a cautionary tale for anyone tempted to believe that the culture of the New England town meeting can be easily exported and take root overnight in new soil. The U.S. tried to force too much, too fast, on South Vietnam. We wanted American-style democracy to flourish in a culture that could not sustain it; we wanted a free and independent South Vietnamese government that would do what it was told. By 1965 we had taken full ownership of a wrecked system, prompting President Johnson to complain: "I can't get out. I can't finish it with what I have got. And I don't know what the hell to do!"