Madam Speaker, thank you very much. Tonight, I want to take my time and refer to an article written by Andrew Bacevich. This was in the American Conservative of May 18, 2009. The title is ``To Die for a Mystique,'' subtitled ``The lessons…
Madam Speaker, thank you very much. Tonight, I want to take my time and refer to an article written by Andrew Bacevich. This was in the American Conservative of May 18, 2009. The title is ``To Die for a Mystique,'' subtitled ``The lessons our leaders didn't learn from the Vietnam War. I'm going to read two or three paragraphs and then close from this article.
``In one of the most thoughtful Vietnam-era accounts written by a senior military officer, General Bruce Palmer once observed, `With respect to Vietnam, our leaders should have known that the American people would not stand still for a protracted war of an indeterminate nature with no foreseeable end to the United States' commitment.''
He further stated in the article, ``General Palmer thereby distilled into a single sentence the central lesson of Vietnam: to embark upon an open-ended war lacking clearly defined and achievable objectives was to forfeit public support, thereby courting disaster. The implications were clear: never again.''
I further read from the article, ``The dirty little secret to which few in Washington will own up is that the United States now faces the prospect of perpetual conflict. We find ourselves in the midst of what the Pentagon calls the `Long War,' a conflict global in scope (if largely concentrated in the Greater Middle East) and expected to outlast even General Palmer's `Twenty-Five Year War.' The present generation of senior civilians and officers have either forgotten or inverted the lessons of Vietnam, embracing open-ended war as an inescapable reality.''
Madam Speaker, I submit this entire article for the Record.
[From The American Conservative, May 18, 2009]
To Die for a Mystique
(By Andrew J. Bacevich)
In one of the most thoughtful Vietnam-era accounts written
by a senior military officer, Gen. Bruce Palmer once
observed, ``With respect to Vietnam, our leaders should have
known that the American people would not stand still for a
protracted war of an indeterminate nature with no foreseeable
end to the U.S. commitment.''
General Palmer thereby distilled into a single sentence the
central lesson of Vietnam: to embark upon an open-ended war
lacking clearly defined and achievable objectives was to
forfeit public support, thereby courting disaster. The
implications were clear: never again.
Palmer's book, which he titled ``The Twenty-Five Year
War'', appeared in 1984. Today, exactly 25 years later, we
once again find ourselves mired in a ``protracted war of an
indeterminate nature with no foreseeable end to the U.S.
commitment.'' It's deja vu all over again. How to explain
this astonishing turn of events?
In the wake of Vietnam, the officer corps set out to
preclude any recurrence of protracted, indeterminate
conflict. The Armed Forces developed a new American way of
war, emphasizing advanced technology and superior skills. The
generals were by no means keen to put these new methods to
the test: their preference was for wars to be fought
infrequently and then only in pursuit of genuinely vital
interests. Yet when war did come, they intended to dispatch
any adversary promptly and economically, thereby protecting
the military from the possibility of public abandonment.
Finish the job quickly and go home: this defined the new
paradigm to which the lessons of Vietnam had given rise.
In 1991, Operation Desert Storm seemingly validated that
paradigm. Yet events since 9/11, in both Iraq and
Afghanistan, have now demolished it. Once again, as in
Vietnam, the enemy calls the tune, obliging American soldiers
to fight on his terms. Decision has become elusive. Costs
skyrocket and are ignored. The fighting drags on. As it does
so, the overall purpose of the undertaking--other than of
avoiding the humiliation of abject failure--becomes
increasingly difficult to discern.
The dirty little secret to which few in Washington will own
up is that the United States now faces the prospect of
perpetual conflict. We find ourselves in the midst of what
the Pentagon calls the ``Long War,'' a conflict global in
scope (if largely concentrated in the Greater Middle East)
and expected to outlast even General Palmer's ``Twenty-Five
Year War.'' The present generation of senior civilians and
officers have either forgotten or inverted the lessons of
Vietnam, embracing open-ended war as an inescapable reality.
To apply to the Long War the plaintive query that Gen.
David Petraeus once posed with regard to Iraq--``Tell me how
this ends''--the answer is clear: no one has the foggiest
idea. War has become like the changing phases of the moon.
It's part of everyday existence. For American soldiers there
is no end in sight.
Yet there is one notable difference between today and the
last time the United States found itself mired in a seemingly
endless war. During the Vietnam era, even as some young
Americans headed off to Indochina to fight in the jungles and
rice paddies, many other young Americans back on the home
front fought against the war itself. More than any other
event of the 1960s, the war created a climate of intense
political engagement. Today, in contrast, the civilian
contemporaries of those fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan have
largely tuned out the Long War. The predominant mood of the
country is not one of anger or anxiety but of dull
acceptance. Vietnam divided Americans; the Long War has
rendered them inert.
To cite General Palmer's formulation, the citizens of this
country at present do appear willing to ``stand still'' when
considering the prospect of war that goes on and on. While
there are many explanations for why Americans have disengaged
from the Long War, the most important, in my view, is that so
few of us have any immediate personal stake in that conflict.
When the citizen-soldier tradition collapsed under the
weight of Vietnam, the military rebuilt itself as a
professional force. The creation of this all-volunteer
military was widely hailed as a great success--well-trained
and highly motivated soldiers made the new American way of
war work. Only now are we beginning to glimpse the
shortcomings of this arrangement, chief among them the
fact that today's ``standing army'' exists at considerable
remove from the society it purports to defend. Americans
today profess to ``support the troops'' but that support
is a mile wide and an inch deep. It rarely translates into
serious or sustained public concern about whether those
same troops are being used wisely and well.
The upshot is that with the eighth anniversary of the Long
War upon us, fundamental questions about this enterprise
remain unasked. The contrast with Vietnam is striking: back
then the core questions may not have gotten straight answers,
but at least they got posed.
When testifying before the Senate Foreign Relations
Committee in April 1971, the young John Kerry famously--or
infamously, in the eyes of some--asked, ``How do you ask a
man to be the last man to die for a mistake?''
What exactly was that mistake? Well, there were many. Yet
the most fundamental lay in President Johnson's erroneous
conviction that the Republic of Vietnam constituted a vital
American security interest and that ensuring that country's
survival required direct and massive U.S. military
intervention.
Johnson erred in his estimation of South Vietnam's
importance. He compounded that error with a tragic failure of
imagination, persuading himself that once in, there was no
way out. The United States needed to stay the course in
Vietnam, regardless of the cost or consequences.
Now we are, in our own day and in our own way, repeating
LBJ's errors. In his 1971 Senate testimony, reflecting the
views of other Vietnam veterans who had turned against the
war in which they had fought, Kerry derisively remarked, ``we
are probably angriest
about all that we were told about Vietnam and about the
mystical war against communism.''
The larger struggle against communism commonly referred to
as the Cold War was both just and necessary. Yet the furies
evoked by irresponsible (or cowardly) politicians more
interested in partisan advantage than in advancing the common
good transformed the Cold War from an enterprise governed by
reason into one driven by fear. Beginning with McCarthyism
and the post-1945 Red Scare and continuing on through
phantasms such as the domino theory, bomber gap, missile gap,
and the putative threat to our survival posed by a two-bit
Cuban revolutionary, panic induced policies that were
reckless, wrong-headed, and unnecessary, with Vietnam being
just one particularly egregious example.
The mystical war against communism finds its counterpart in
the mystical war on terrorism. As in the 1960s, so too today:
mystification breeds misunderstanding and misjudgment. It
prevents us from seeing things as they are.
As a direct result, it leads us to exaggerate the
importance of places like Afghanistan and indeed to
exaggerate the jihadist threat, which falls well short of
being existential. It induces flights of fancy so that
otherwise sensible people conjure up visions of providing
clean water, functioning schools, and good governance to
Afghanistan's 40,000 villages, with expectations of thereby
winning Afghan hearts and minds. It causes people to ignore
considerations of cost. With the Long War already this
nation's second most expensive conflict, trailing only World
War II, and with the federal government projecting trillion-
dollar deficits for years to come, how much can we afford and
where is the money coming from?
For political reasons the Obama administration may have
banished the phrase ``global war on terror,'' yet the
conviction persists that the United States is called upon to
dominate or liberate or transform the Greater Middle East.
Methods may be shifting, with the emphasis on pacification
giving way to militarized nation-building. Priorities may be
changing, Af-Pak now supplanting Iraq as the main effort. But
by whatever name, the larger enterprise continues. The
president who vows to ``change the way Washington works'' has
not yet exhibited the imagination needed to conceive of an
alternative to the project that his predecessor began.
The urgent need is to de-mystify that project, which was
from the outset a misguided one. Just as in the 1960s we
possessed neither the wisdom nor the means needed to
determine the fate of Southeast Asia, so today we possess
neither the wisdom nor the means necessary to determine the
fate of the Greater Middle East. To persist in efforts to do
so--as the Obama administration appears intent on doing in
Afghanistan--will simply replicate on an even greater scale
mistakes like those that Bruce Palmer and John Kerry once
rightly decried.
I further read and want to close and then make a few comments with this. This is the last paragraph. Let me say about Andrew Bacevich, he, himself, was a Vietnam veteran. He, himself, was a veteran of Desert Storm. He, himself, taught at West Point. He lost a son in 2007, a young lieutenant who was killed in Iraq. So I think he brings great credibility to this article that he has written.
This is the last paragraph in the article. ``The urgent need is to demystify that project, which was from the outset a misguided one. Just as in the 1960s we possessed neither the wisdom nor the means needed to determine the fate of Southeast Asia, so today we possess neither the wisdom nor the means necessary to determine the fate of the Greater Middle East.
``To persist in efforts to do so--as the Obama administration appears intent on doing in Afghanistan--will simply replicate on an even greater scale mistakes like those that Bruce Palmer and John Kerry once rightly decried.''
Madam Speaker, I bring this forward because my friend from Massachusetts, Jim McGovern, has put a bill in that would say simply to the Secretary of Defense: You need to come to the Congress and tell the Congress what the exit strategy is for Afghanistan. Some people would say end point.
Let me briefly explain, having an exit strategy and saying that to the Congress, you don't have to say in 2009, 2010, or 2015 or 2020, but tell the American people where we are going when we send our young men and boys and girls to die in Afghanistan without a plan, without benchmarks.
So, Madam Speaker, I don't know if Mr. McGovern's amendment has been approved for debate tomorrow on the Armed Services bill, but I want to thank Mr. McGovern for bringing this to the attention of the American people and the Congress, because we need to have benchmarks. We need to have an end point to the strategy in Afghanistan.
The military, I know, from marines down in my district, will tell you that our military is tired. They're worn out. They'll keep going back and forth, back and forth because they love this Nation and they love defending America. But we've got to be realistic about breaking the military, because we have got North Korea over here threatening. We've got the Chinese. We don't know what they might do. Yet we need to have a plan for victory in Afghanistan. We cannot do what the Bush administration did in Iraq and keep going on and on.
Madam Speaker, as I close, as I do every night on this floor, I have signed over 8,000 letters to families and extended families who have lost loved ones in Afghanistan and Iraq. I ask God to please bless our men and women in uniform. I ask God to please bless the families of our men and women in uniform, and I ask God in his loving arms to hold the families who have given a child dying for freedom in Afghanistan and Iraq.
Madam Speaker, I ask three times; God, please, God please, God, please continue to bless America.