Georgetown University
International Relations
Fall 2002
Kennedy's Vietnam Dilemma
There is a key distinction between the reasons President Kennedy gave the nation (and the world) for his support of the coup d’etat against South Vietnamese President Ngo Dinh Diem and his actual motivations. To the world and the American public, Kennedy aided the overthrow of Diem because he felt a regime change would facilitate a victory against North Vietnam’s Ho Chi Minh. In reality, Kennedy’s decision was much more complicated.
Kennedy’s Dilemmas: Re-Election and Nuclear Annihilation
The pressures on Kennedy were serious. Pragmatically, he cared about re-election and the perception of his status as a powerful world leader in both the foreign and domestic press. He was also concerned about the continued containment of communism, but more gravely, about maintaining a credible U.S. threat which would deter nuclear war. His choice to support the coup can only be truly understood in the unique context of these pressures.
There was no question that his personal opportunism controlled his political choices, including the one he made to remove Diem — a leader whom he had previously supported — because the self-immolating Buddhists were generating negative U.S. press. Kennedy was also guided in his decision by Secretary of State Dean Rusk, as well as his team of advisors and diplomats. The latter was generally divided into two camps: those that hated Diem — namely, Harriman, Ball, Forrestal, Hilsman, and Lodge — and those that understood and emphasized with him — that is, McCone, McNamara, Nolting, Colby, and Taylor. Kennedy straddled the line between the two, directing a coup while at the same time remarking that the two leaders (Diem and Nhu) were not “just tyrants” but instead “in a difficult position … [and] they did the best they could for their country.”
Both President Kennedy and Secretary of State Rusk were deathly afraid of the plausible and terrifying threat of nuclear war. The President was very aware that, if Berlin was invaded by the Soviets, Germany would depend upon the U.S. to escalate the war to a nuclear conflict, after which Europe and the U.S. would, in all probability, be annihilated. Although Kennedy had personally and resolutely determined he would not use nuclear weapons, he felt a “desperate need to deflect the spark of war away from the tinderbox of European nuclear rivalry.” The President thus became quite anxious about the credibility of the U.S. threat of mutually assured destruction, as he knew it to be a bluff. Although now it is difficult to fully comprehend the “imminent and apocalyptic risks attendant on any NATO-Warsaw Pact confrontation in Europe,” at that time, one thought retained primacy in Kennedy’s personal convictions: “a nuclear war must never be fought.”
Of course neither Rusk nor Kennedy could outright say that they were unwilling to launch nuclear weapons, for anything but a complete poker face would spell disaster for the tense international showdown between the Soviet Union and the U.S.’s perception of threat. In order to avoid such a catastrophe, Rusk and Kennedy felt they had no choice other than to “talk tough, even recklessly, about their willingness to fight a nuclear war.” This, they felt, might not be enough — as well as talking recklessly, they also believed they needed “to act recklessly elsewhere, in a less volatile arena of world politics.”
As a consequence, they elected to fight their battle in a microcosm, a model of the clash between the two nuclear powers — communist U.S.S.R. and democratic U.S. — to show off U.S. bravado, encouraging the Soviet Union to think twice before using force in Europe. Vietnam was thus selected as the stage from which to convince our Soviet adversaries that the United States was tough, that the US would not back down, and that democracy would be the victor.
Kennedy’s Conscience
With that reasoning in mind, it becomes clear that “only desperation [stemming from this fear of nuclear war] could have driven two such cautious personalities as Kennedy and Rusk to commit U.S. prestige and resources to the cause of South Vietnamese independence under the fragile and anachronistic leadership of Ngo Dinh Diem.” Given this, it seems Kennedy’s decision to become involved in Vietnam was actually an extremely scrupulous one, indeed “the work of [his] conscience.”
In personal accounts throughout his term in office, Kennedy repeatedly displayed “rigid resistance to risking the future of the world’s children … a quality that places [him] in the front ranks of conscientious statesmen in the nuclear era.” His “moral sticking point [was] the unthinkability of launching nuclear war.” This meshed well with Rusk’s “conscience, which was also the driving force behind the new strategy.” Indeed, both felt that by shifting the cold war from Europe to southeast Asia, they had made the world a safer place.
However, this shift left Kennedy unable to grapple correctly with the inherent differences in the Vietnamese political arena and way of life; he simply “assumed that American standards were applicable to Vietnamese politics.” Of course, they were not. In his commendable quest to avert nuclear disaster, Kennedy had stumbled into “the folly of seeking to superimpose the image of Washington on the reality of Saigon”—an impossibility with which his successors would unsuccessfully contend.
Kennedy, and the entire country, seemed to believe that American ethics were identical to the ethical values the world held as a whole. Kissinger refers to this fallacy as America’s “belief in the universal appeal of its values.” Consumed with our own moral correctness, along with an unremitting zeal to “improve” our allies, the US has a propensity to steamroll over foreign states’ right to autonomy. The US so wishes to “advance peace and world friendship” with an idealistic and self-centered notion that American style democracy is the panacea for all nations’ problems. Such ‘idealism’ is by nature the enemy of other peoples’ dreams and ideals.
Although the US consciously avoided uttering the trigger word “colonial,” due to its associations with past immorality, and perhaps fancying itself a neutral “ally,” they were only deceiving themselves, as they treated Vietnam in an identical way to the French colonial power that had ruled them previously. This problem is once again at the forefront of American politics and foreign relations, as the world becomes increasingly resentful of President Bush’s attitude of U.S. unilateral decision-making. The decades old policies of our country — we do what we want, when we want — have become increasingly inappropriate.
However much Kennedy may have made the decision to enter Vietnam conscientiously (as far as avoiding nuclear war was concerned), it remains that he did not seem to be troubled by the gloomy future of the country post-Diem. In fact, he had been duly warned that “the most likely consequence of the coup would be military and political chaos in the midst of a highly unpredictable civil war.” It was well known that there were no great leaders among the Vietnamese, but Kennedy did not seem to mind and nonetheless approved the coup on August 29, 1963.
It is only fair to acknowledge Jonathan Schell’s argument in Kennedy’s defense. Schell contends that the havoc wrecked in a nuclear war is so extreme, that in comparison, almost anything seems morally acceptable. Thus, Kennedy’s ability to realistically evaluate the consequences of entering into the conflict in Vietnam were markedly reduced.
The Lessons of Vietnam
It is clear that the “fundamental lesson of Vietnam is political and moral rather than strategic or journalistic.” First, we must beware “the peril of presidential ambition.” This may not be unique to Vietnam (indeed, it could be occurring presently in the war on Iraq), but it is yet another example of the lesson to be learned that politics and opportunism often go hand-in-hand. We must be aware that careless, reckless, and sometimes cavalier decisions can be made by politicians solely for the purpose of achieving the positive reception of their elective public.
Second, we must avoid “the distortion of political judgment generated by American frustration at the intransigence of its irreformable allies.” This, a “latent xenophobia masquerading as benevolence,” is our “tragic flaw.” We must learn to accept that different ways of living may be right for different people. Another lesson is one against hypocrisy. How could the U.S. crusade for the self-determination of a state which we treated as a colonial power? By creating policy around a double standard we set ourselves up for failure. In fact, “from the moment that the United States committed itself to securing the independence of a wholly controlled ally, it had entered on its perilous march of folly.”
It is the previous sentence which suggests the most important lesson — that of respect for the sovereignty of independent nations. Certainly the conflict in Vietnam was a true test of natural law theory and the tug of war between the fundamental human rights of life and independence. Some might argue that Kennedy’s decision to enter the Vietnam conflict staved off a third world war, saving lives at the expense of Vietnam’s independence. But it is unlikely that such a victory needed to be achieved through such a blatant and belligerent rejection of Vietnamese sovereignty, and certainly not through a colonial-power type of counterinsurgency against the legitimate government of an independent nation-state.
Still, the Americans had the power to do it, and so they did. Reinhold Niebuhr, the American theologian, argued that only through a balance of power can there be peace and respect of the right to independence. Otherwise, “when power is unevenly distributed, the powerful are tempted to throw their weight around inordinately and disregard things like sovereignty or the self-determination of others; they trust too much in their own strength.” The right of all nations to sovereignty, or “constraint on the coercion of smaller nations by the powerful” was empirically upheld by the U.S. in dealings with European powers, but generally “ignored” in relations with the developing world. The disproportionate power wielded by Americans decreased the likelihood that they would feel compelled to treat smaller, developing nations as independent, autonomous nation-sates.
Indeed, “American moral superiority calls for control of far-flung peoples in order to civilize them.” We saw Vietnam as a tabula rasa — a blank slate upon which we could write the formula — our formula — for Western democratic success. With the US political judgment clouded by self-righteousness, we vastly underestimated the obstacles to democratization of a society historically shaped by Confucianism.
No doubt our conscious resistance to respect the sovereignty of the South Vietnamese people and Diem’s regime contributed a great deal to the perception of our involvement there as a “debacle” or complete catastrophe. Strobe Talbott, former Deputy Secretary of State during the Clinton administration, referred to Vietnam as the last time we had entered into a conflict unilaterally and without consultation with either our allies, including the country we were fighting for, and “that didn’t go so well.” The lesson? Collaboration and respectful diplomacy work. Unilateral aggression does not.
The Vietnamese Lessons of Vietnam
Even my sense of the lessons of Vietnam is filtered through the lens of Americanism. We should be vigilant about the decisions of our President, for they may be corrupted by desire for power. We should also be careful not to treat independent nations as our colonies. We must not attempt to impose our American democracy as the sole correct way of life for all peoples on earth. We must be aware of the American veterans who fought in the tragic conflict, but we also must be aware of the devastation wrecked upon a country which we often treated as a parent might a child. What about the Vietnamese people?
The disintegration of Vietnam’s national sovereignty and “gradual alienation of their nation’s independence” dealt quite a blow to quarter century old sovereign state of South Vietnam. After the U.S. orchestrated coup, the eight successor governments to Ngo Dinh Diem destroyed what was left of the state’s national sovereignty, “each seeking nothing but the generous patronage of Vietnam’s latest foreign ‘partner.’” It was similar to their relationship with their prior parent country, France, except in that instance, at least they had been honest about their colonialism and dependency. The U.S., on the other hand, seemed unaware that it was inappropriate to treat Vietnam as their colony. Although we may have had every right to try and persuade the S. Vietnamese to do our bidding, we had no right to infringe upon their government.
Thanh and Duc write with a subtle irony about the treatment of favored Nguyen Khanh, the general who came to power during the Johnson administration. Henry Cabot Lodge used abundant praise when referring to Khanh, calling him “intelligent, unruffled and quickly comprehending … far above Diem and Nhu.” That such praise was “similar to [that] given by the French governor general to the Vietnamese serving well the French colonial regime” is telling. In rallies during March of 1964, Thanh and Duc describe Khanh’s appearance as one of “a mere puppet serving U.S. policy.” This appearance most likely reflected the truth; it boded ill that the situation in South Vietnam had substantially worsened since the overthrow of Diem. Khanh “was eager to do what Americans wanted and told him, and what he thought they also wanted but had not yet suggested him [sic].” Of course Lodge was overjoyed to be of assistance, allowing Khanh to seek his advice for “all matters of state … [like] a docile and diligent student.”
Incredibly enough, it seemed that Khanh “on his own, was offering the sovereign rights of the nation to the U.S. The loss of independence started with the American violations of Vietnamese national sovereignty during the Diem regime and accelerated after the November 1963 coup was complete by Nguyen Khanh who was now serving the Americans as he had done with the French.” Summed up in that one sentence is the entirety of the collapse of the last tenuous hold the Vietnamese had on their independence.
Thanh and Duc use their piercing gaze to elucidate the sardonic reality of the situation, remarking on Lodge’s “self-congratulatory” statement that “I doubt if anywhere in the world the United States has a better relationship with a chief of state than exists here” by mockingly answering that apparently no other chief of state wishes to hand over the sovereign rights of his or her nation to the U.S. That fabulous relationship was headed for the rocks when the political situation got messy. “There was no more law and order but chaos and unrest … Khanh showed he had no political abilities.” Then, the new ambassador, Maxwell Taylor, upset by a Khanh action, upbraided the chief of state and told him to resign. “the state of affairs in the country was just not only chaotic but anarchical.” Certainly the North Vietnamese communists benefited from the disorder, in spite of the steadily escalating troop numbers put forth by the Johnson administration.
It seems clear that the Vietnamese right to self-determination and autonomy was being violated by the Americans — the very people who profess to honor such values above all else. “The colonist intervention of the Kennedy administration deprived the Vietnamese who didn’t wish to live under a communist rule the opportunity to fight for themselves as a sovereign state.” Thanh and Duc conclude poignantly that Diem was a patriot for his country, a nationalist who, ironically enough, never would have let the Americans enter into their doomed and costly war with Ho Chi Minh.
Their final question “Shouldn’t the American people give him official recognition and express regrets for his overthrow and assassination caused by the Kennedy administration?” elicits shame for all those who look at Vietnam and see only the American casualties and American suffering. In essence Thanh and Duc are saying: “You entered our country, you tried to tell us what to do, when our leader refused to do your bidding, you had him assassinated and entered a long, costly and bloody war which neither our, nor your nation, seemed to want.”
Can the lesson we ought to learn be any more obvious?
Works Cited
Hoang Ngoc Thanh and Than Thi Nhan Duc. Why the Vietnam War? President Ngo Dinh Diem and the U.S. His Overthrow and Assassination. Vietnam: Mai-Nam Publishers, 2001.
Malotky, Dan. “Niebuhr and U.S. Restraint.” Sightings. University of Chicago Divinity School, Chicago, IL. October 31, 2002.
Winters, Francis X. The Year of the Hare: America in Vietnam. University of Georgia Press, Athens and London:1997.