Break the Chains of Vietnam's Legacy

For the last 20 years, American foreign policy has suffered from an indelible stigma. Whenever the United States sends forces abroad as peace-keepers, oil-preservers, or dictator-removers, politicos and pundits with long memories groan about "another Vietnam." Well, there isn't going to be another Vietnam in Bosnia or Somalia or even East Timor--things have changed.

"Another Vietnam" is such a catchy phrase; it carries the onus of one of the greatest tragedies in this country's history. Yet, for all that momentousness, it is a phrase ill-suited to the kinds of conflicts in which the United States chooses to intercede. Fear of the spread of Communism and a tip in the world's balance of power triggered American involvement in Vietnam. These days, Communism doesn't pose such a daunting threat to the world.

When Fidel Castro and Deng Xiaoping die, Communism's last major scions will be gone. No successor in either Cuba or China has the same personal sway these two rulers have wielded. In China, by far the more important of the two nations, Communism appears to have devolved into a heavily regulated, semi-legal form of capitalism. Only North Korea, whose development program for nuclear weapons makes the news every week, can take the role of menacing outpost of Communism. Still, more nations than the United States would want to have a hand in the quelling of a belligerent nuclear threat.

In any case, the U.S. has not been tinkering with situations in Bosnia and Somalia in order to stem a Marxist tide. If anything, despots Milosevic and Aidid stray toward the other, fascist end of the political spectrum. But the other facet of the war in Vietnam--the U.S.'s long, intractable involvement--does merit some fear of repetition.

For a decade and a half, the Armed Forces stayed entrenched in Vietnam and fought a seemingly insurmountable opponent. Why did four presidents allow such a catastrophic mission to continue? The foremost reason, dealt with already, was the battle of the two ideologies. But at least as prominent was the overwhelming desire to show the U.S.'s dominance in the world, to preserve its undefeated record in international combat (excepting the losing 'tie' of 1812). In a sense, defeat--or at least embarrassment--in Vietnam was a crucial but constructive blow to American arrogance.

When Nixon finally pulled the troops out of Vietnam, he did the United States a huge service. He salvaged dignity for himself (a rare feat for Nixon) and relieved the nation of a tremendous burden. Today, with Nixon's precedent, a president should have no compunction about withdrawing forces from an unsuccessful mission. The Soviet Union learned the same lesson in Afghanistan, and much too late. When the objective is to remove a bloody tyrant or stop a senseless territorial war, at least the noble attempt will have been made.

With that in mind, the United States should not be so loathe to stop genocide in other parts of the world. The crisis in Bosnia will not be halted by the closely constrained peace-keepers of the United Nations, despite the dogged diplomatic efforts of Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali.

Ghali, asserting the preferability of negotiated solutions, continues to argue against air strikes. But for three years, negotiated solutions have failed to take hold. Bosnians, Serbs and Croats will not reconcile their centuries-old differences unless controlled by force. Let force again take from these people the freedom to fight for the good of the civilians, if any remain alive. And if the same becomes necessary in Somalia, so be it.

The final argument pertaining to "another Vietnam" comes from those who dispute sending "our boys" overseas to fight someone else's war. Politicians and journalists alike never fail to garner applause and "here, heres" with that remark. For their information, it happens to be "our boys" job to fight wherever the President sends them.

Moreover, the blood of an American soldier is no redder than that of a Somalian peasant. If one soldier dies for every hundred Serbs forced to put down their weapons, the United States will have achieved a remarkable success while putting to shame the isolationist European powers personified by Great Britain's ineffective Lord Owen.

If the U.S. finally overcomes its apprehension and enters the former Yugoslavia for the good of the unprotected, chances are that Germany, Japan and others would be cowed into helping to bankroll the effort. But why should other nations send only money while the U.S. sends lives? It doesn't matter; no one can force a country to send troops. The United States, however, must set the example without worrying whether the world will follow.