[c]

THE AMERICAN SCHOLAR

but what is past—and perhaps have not heard a quarter of that.”
And again in 1781, “I wonder you are not cured of being sanguine
or rather of believing the magnificent lies that every trifling ad-
vantage gives birth to.”

*For Domestic Opposition to the War*

Here is Walpole again in 1777: “We have been horribly the ag-
gressors.”

And William Pitt: “I rejoice that America has resisted.” And
later, “If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a for-
eign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my
arms . . . never, never, never . . . you cannot conquer America.”

Edmund Burke: “Nothing less will content me than Whole
America.”

Edward Gibbon: “I shall scarcely give my consent to exhaust
still further the finest country in the World in the prosecution of
a war from whence no reasonable man entertains any hopes of
success. It is better to be humbled than ruined.”

William Cowper: “I think it [the American War] bids fair to
be the ruin of the country . . . I cannot look upon the circum-
stances of this country, without being persuaded that I discern in
them an entanglement and perplexity that I have never met with
in the history of any other. . . . If we pursue the war, it is because
we are desperate: it is plunging and sinking year after year into
still greater depths of calamity. If we relinquish it, the remedy is
equally desperate . . . either way we are undone.”

James Boswell: “I am growing more and more an American.
I think our ministers are mad in undertaking this desperate war.”

Even the favoring of revolutionaries over one's own brethren
in uniform is not unique to us today. Winston Churchill, in his
history of the times, wrote: "There was gloating over every set-
back and disaster to the British cause," and some British peers
took a "parricide joy" in the loss of British troops and ships.

*The Quest for Peace*

You may read King George III, but whose voice do you hear?
“I should think it the greatest instance among the many I have
met with of ingratitude and injustice, if it could be supposed,

268

[L]

A CURIOSITY OF HISTORY

that any Man in my Dominions more ardently desired the restoration of Peace and solid happiness in every part of this Empire, than I do, there is no personal Sacrifice I could not readily yield for so desirable an object, but at the same time no inclination to get out of the present difficulties which certainly keep my mind very far from a state of ease, can incline me to enter into what I look upon as the destruction [sic] of the Empire."

But here is Cowper again: "If people leave off fighting, peace follows, of course. I wish they would withdraw the forces and put an end to the squabble."

Walpole writes that the administration is "... persisting in a mere point of honor," for it has rejected "all proposals of accommodation offered by the Opposition" and "delayed offering terms themselves till they knew it was too late... For what are we now really at war? ... to stave off for a year perhaps, a peace that must proclaim our nakedness and impotence. ... The ministers were too sanguine making war. I hope they will not be too timid of making peace." Later, he wrote, "My wishes are limited now to peace, I care not what sort of peace; the longer it is deferred, the worse it must be."

## On the Destruction and Expense of the War

King George said, "I have heard ... drop that the advantages to be gained by this contest could never repay the expence, I owne that let any War be ever so successful if persons will set down and weigh the Expenses they will find as in the last that it has impoverished the State, enriched individuals, and perhaps raised the Name only of the Conquerors, but this is only weighing such events in the Scale of a Tradesman behind his Counter; it is necessary for those in the Station it has pleased Divine Providence to place me to weigh whether expences though very great are not sometimes necessary to prevent what might be more ruinous to a Country than the loss of money."

Among those who read the scales differently, however, we have Walpole again: "The distance of the war augments its horrors almost as much as its expense... The destruction of twenty-four thousand lives on their own side and the Lord knows how many thousands on t'other, with the burning of towns, desolation of the

269

[c]

THE AMERICAN SCHOLAR

country and the expense of above thirty millions of money. ... Whatever puts an end to the American War will save the lives of thousands ... millions of money too. If glory compensates such sacrifices, I never heard that disgraces and disappointments were palliatives." In 1780 he wrote, "You hear, on the Continent, but too much of our barbarity; the only way in which we have yet shown our power."

Cowper, too: "Perseverance will only enfeeble us more; we cannot recover the colonies by war ... crushed as we are under an enormous public debt that the public credit can at no rate carry much longer ... the consequence is sure. ..."

Perhaps you have wondered why the King thought that the loss of money and lives must be weighed against future consequences.

## *The Domino Theory*

"Step by step the demands of America have risen—independence is their object ... every man not willing to sacrifice every object to a momentary and inglorious Peace must concurr with me in thinking that this Country can never submit. ... Should America succeed, the West Indies must follow them ... Ireland would soon follow ... then this Island would be reduced to itself and soon would be a poor Island indeed. ... Consequently, this Country has but one Sensible, one great line to follow, the being ever ready to make Peace when to be obtained without submitting to terms that in their consequence must anihilate [sic] this Empire, and with firmness to make every effort to deserve Success."

## *Meanwhile, Back on the Home Front*

While the Administration tried to create favor for its war policy, rebellion and dissension increased. Walpole worried about it: "I am almost afraid that there will be a larger military spirit than is wholesome for our constitution. France will have done us hurt enough, if she has turned us into generals instead of senators. ... The nation is not yet alienated from the Court, but it is growing so enough for any calamity to have violent effects. Any internal disturbance would advance the hostile designs of France." Later, he wrote, "Foreign enemies seldom destroy a country, and then only by total conquest. In my opinion the subversion of a happy

270

A CURIOSITY OF HISTORY

constitution, which is only effected by domestic enemies, is a
worse evil, certainly a more permanent and more mortifying one,
than defeats by strangers."

In 1776 Samuel Johnson noted "the magistrates dare not call
the guards for fear of being hanged. The guards will not come for
fear of being given up [to] the blind rage of popular juries."

And Steven Watson, in his *Reign of King George III*, describes
similar circumstances contributing to the riot of 1780.

## Backlash for Law and Order

The riot was instigated by Lord George Gordon. According to
Watson, "young men like Gordon who drank success to America
were not unnaturally considered by most of their seniors to be
little better than traitors" as were those politicians whose only
hope of attaining power depended upon a British defeat. Gordon,
under thirty, and a member of Parliament, was wild, flighty, hated
Lord North, the prime minister, yet refused to cooperate with
the Opposition. His influence as self-appointed leader of a prot-
estant organization was considered inconsequential. But on June
2, 1780, Gordon marched at the head of a procession formed to
pressure the Commons into accepting his group's petitions. En-
couraged by Gordon's haranguing, crowds attempted to attack
Parliament. By nightfall they had shifted their activities from
Westminster to London, from shouting to arson, and the riot,
which was to continue for more than a full week, was under way.
Uncontrollable mobs burned homes and businesses, attacked the
Bank of England, and broke open every prison, recruiting the
former inmates to their ranks. Many ransacked and burned dis-
tilleries, and drunken rioters burned to death where they fell.

London was at the mercy of the mob. Troops who were called
out could not fire into the crowds until a magistrate had read
the riot act, but magisterial sanction was not easily obtained—
in part, as Watson puts it, because the magistrates "did not want
to rank themselves with those who repressed the ebullience of a
free-spirited city . . . in part . . . because they feared reprisals from
the mob against their own personal property." Indeed, there were
such reprisals; magistrates and wardens continually released pre-
viously arrested rioters.

271

[L]

THE AMERICAN SCHOLAR

It was only after the King and the Privy Council ordered the military to disregard the city magistrates, to suppress the riots and restore public order, that the mob was finally beaten. More than four hundred and fifty people were killed or wounded before London returned to normal. Now, horrified Londoners and country gentlemen condemned all mob action; aldermen sought credit for preserving law and order; and, as Watson states, "the swing back to Lord North as a safe man . . . increased in speed and weight."

*Restoration of Peace or a Massacre by Troops?*

Now read Fanny Burney on June 9, 1780: "A private letter . . . brought word this morning that much slaughter has been made by the military among the mob. Never, I am sure, can any set of wretches less deserve quarter or pity; yet it is impossible not to shudder at hearing of their destruction. Nothing less, however, would do; they were too outrageous and powerful for civil power . . . . Now, if after all the intolerable provocation by the mob, after all the leniency and forbearance of the ministry, we shall by and by hear that this firing was a massacre . . . will it not be villainous and horrible? And yet as soon as safety is secured, by this means alone all now agree it can be secured—nothing would less surprise me than to hear the seekers of popularity make this assertion."

And there it is—eighteenth-century England or twentieth-century America? Dissension, taxes, riots, bigotry, domino theory, alienation, militarism, backlash. Surely, in our present mess we have heard no glad tidings. Is it permissible to be heartened by England's survival even into the Welfare State? It would be nice if from this encapsulated fragment of the past we could infer that we will eventually solve our problems. But there are too many variables beyond our knowledge and control.

Perhaps, then, the best we can derive from these quotations is some social psychotherapy that will enable us to be a little more objective, to avoid the long, inscrutable view, to recognize helplessness and entrapment of position instead of villainy, and to hear our prophets of doom with the necessary grain of salt.

Societies, even as individuals, are doomed; only the timetable is uncertain.

272

Growing Doubts about American Reliability

# Vietnam and Western Europe

by Stanley Hoffmann

American policy makers, in the Nixon as well as in the Johnson Administration, have said repeatedly that any negotiated settlement of the Vietnam war which would establish a coalition government, or any other outcome tantamount to an outright abandonment of South Vietnam to the Communists (such as a precipitate withdrawal of all American forces) would be interpreted by our allies as a betrayal of US commitments. Despite years of involvement and tens of thousands of American dead, having thus sacrificed one of its allies, the United States could no longer be trusted and the America's network of alliance would snap. Do our European partners see the war in the light presented by Washington? Let us examine the three main European powers: England, West Germany, and France, two of which have a long and deep experience of Southeast Asian affairs, and one of which has made dependence on the American alliance the cornerstone of its postwar policy.

The public statements of British governments – the Wilson cabinet and now Mr. Heath's cabinet – have always been "understanding" and often approving of

American policies. No British government has yet repudiated the line set by Churchill during World War II: the role Great Britain can still play in the world is that of an influential ally and adviser of the United States. Only by acting as a loyal supporter could England expect both to get her own vital interests acknowledged and protected by the US and to succeed in influencing the global course of American foreign policy. Even though in two instances at least vital English interests were disregarded by the United States (at the time of Suez and in the Skybolt affair), even though it is hard to prove that English advice has had a significant impact on American statecraft, there has as yet been no "agonizing reappraisal" of a policy that has allowed Britain to develop a nuclear force with American help, to pass on her interests in the Eastern Mediterranean to the United States, and to flatter herself with the belief that various summit meetings took place thanks to her efforts.

Britain's own interest in a non-Communist Southeast Asia – an interest which she successfully protected during years of guerrilla fighting in Malaya – also ex-

JANUARY 30, 1971

(L) 19

plains why American arguments against a hasty retreat from Vietnam or against a settlement along the lines laid down by Hanoi have often found an echo in England. For many years, *The Economist* managed the feat of producing polished and reasonable versions of American stands which their American defenders in the government, in Congress, or in the academic world, more often than not had made appear absurd. Concerned with the stability of fragile countries – Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, Burma – and with the survival of Singapore, the British governments, along with many former colonial administrators, military and foreign policy experts, have sympathized with the American determination to save South Vietnam from Communist conquest. No nation that had once supported Munich is quite immune to the domino theory afterwards – even if the Munich analogy is misleading and the domino theory dubious.

Nevertheless, British support has always been qualified. American policy has had two faces – a tough (and real) one, a soft (and vague) one. War was being waged with hideous means but the purpose was said to be a negotiated settlement. Britain has on the whole downplayed the horrors and upgraded the positive by picking up all references to peace and compromise. The first Indochina war ended in 1954, in Geneva, largely thanks to Sir Anthony Eden's efforts. British governments have always hoped that the Geneva precedent could be repeated, and that once negotiations began between the belligerents the huge gap between Hanoi's demands and America's preference for a South Vietnam in which the NLF would accept a minority status would somehow be reduced. The Wilson government patiently tried to get such negotiations started, and welcomed the bombing halts of 1968.

It has since become apparent that the gap has not narrowed, Britain's embarrassment has become more acute. On the one hand, there is still a feeling that public criticism and proppings would do no good – and it is not in the style of British policy. Moreover, the Heath cabinet is committed to slowing down the final retreat from East of Suez: a determination to remain minimally present in Southeast Asia which would hardly be comparable with a sudden shift against America's Vietnam policy. On the other hand, three factors tend to make British officials and elites privately very critical of this policy. First, there is the obvious and shocking impact of Vietnam on American domestic and foreign affairs; the sense that the ob stinate pursuit of a valuable but limited interest has been allowed to jeopardize far more important concerns, such as domestic harmony, or the need for a more far-sighted East Asian policy and for a coherent Middle Eastern policy. Secondly, there is the unpopu larity of the Vietnam war to many of the British, es

pecially the youth. Third, there is the new priority of entry into Europe – and the realization that above and beyond the purely economic aspects of the Common Market, there is in the European enterprise a political ambition: that of allowing Western Europe to speak, gradually, with one voice in matters of defense and diplomacy. The British elites know that Britain's chance of admission will remain small if Britain speaks in the same language as Washington, on these matters.

One could sum up Britain's position at present as follows. There continues to be much sympathy for the American objective – a non-Communist South Vietnam. But there is increasing doubt that the quest for this goal is worth the effort. "Vietnamization" was approved because it seemed a step toward extrication, because British counterinsurgency experts (like Sir Robert Thompson, so highly appreciated in Washington) were convinced that the very scope of America's massive involvement doomed the enterprise of isolating and destroying the guerrilla, and because one could hope that negotiation would result. With the Paris talks stalled, and the memory of Cambodia – the awareness that as long as the war lasts, it risks getting larger – there is growing desire for a new effort to close the gap in Paris. For the only alternative is continuing American entrapment, which the British deem disastrous. They may agree with Mr. Nixon that a hasty "bug-out" would be shameful and damaging; they do not agree that his own past policy constitutes the sole alternative to such a debacle. And they certainly do not see in Vietnam a test of America's will and alliances everywhere.

The Federal German Republic, in contrast with France and Britain, and like Italy, has had no worldwide foreign policy since 1945: its political and strategic interests (I am not referring to its industrial and commercial ones) are concentrated in Europe. Moreover, unlike Italy, West Germany's whole existence has been dominated by an international issue – the "German question." It was under the auspices of the Western Allies that the Federal Republic was established, and Bonn has sought both its security and the restoration of its sovereignty in a close alliance with the United States.

Chancellor Erhard and his foreign minister, Schröder, were determined not to let anything or anyone interfere with the priority given to the American alliance and to NATO; hence their opposition to de Gaulle, who had partially seduced Adenauer. Bonn's Founding Father had had frequent misgivings about the wisdom of Washington (especially in the Kennedy years), and little regard for England. De Gaulle's vision of a "European Europe" had appealed to him. Erhard rejected it; he and Schröder wanted England in the Common Market, so as to make it more like a free-trade area, and so as to strengthen Europe's bonds with the United States. At the same time, the United

STANLEY HOFFMANN is professor of government and chairman of West European studies at Harvard.

20

THE NEW REPUBLIC

States, eager to isolate de Gaulle, courted West Germany. Bonn was determined to hold America's hand, so as to be sure that America would always hold its own hand should there be trouble with the Russians or their satellites, and so as to avoid what had happened in 1961 at the time of the Berlin Wall. Consequently, Bonn endorsed American actions in Vietnam, and its officials often stated that Vietnam was the proof of American determination to carry on its commitments: Saigon and Berlin were two links in the free world's chain under American protection.

Ironically, what de Gaulle could not do was achieved by Mr. MacNamara. It was largely his pressure on Bonn, over the issue of German financial contributions to the cost of American troops in Europe, which brought down the Erhard cabinet and resulted in a subtle change of German policy. In this second phase, from the end of 1966 to mid-1969, the so-called Grand Coalition Cabinet of Chancellor Kiesinger, with Willy Brandt as foreign minister, cautiously shifted priorities in two areas. In Western Europe, there was a new attempt at cooperation with France - not so much as to endanger NATO, yet carried out even though de Gaulle had taken France out of the military structure of the Atlantic Alliance. In Eastern Europe, there was an "opening to the East," an attempt at reconciliation with Poland and Czechoslovakia, a policy of "peaceful engagement" which no longer made of reunification a prerequisite of detente. To be sure, this policy had Washington's blessing. But Washington had hoped to pursue it along with (if not ahead of) Bonn, and soon discovered that Vietnam was thwarting such hopes - partly because of the East Europeans' coldness to American overtures in the years of American bombing of North Vietnam, partly because Vietnam diverted most of Washington's energies. The West Germans, however, persisted (with very mixed results).

The new German policy assumed that the threat from the East was no longer so overwhelming as to bury diplomacy under strategy, that security through NATO could now be reconciled with active detente in the East, and that the "situation of strength" established by NATO was in itself, despite years of mythology, incapable of guaranteeing either reunification or a rapprochement with Eastern Europe that might lead to reunification some day. This policy shift was due in large part to a feeling induced by Vietnam. The United States was still the main anchor, but its involvement in the Far East was seen as lessening its effectiveness in Europe. Under those circumstances, it was up to the Europeans to pursue their own interests. While de Gaulle and the West Germans remained separated by their respective positions on NATO and on British entry, in those years they got closer together through a shared sense of relative American irrelevance. Even if theoretically, America's stand in Saigon showed up the value of all US commitments, practically America's entrapment meant an American

absence from Europe's politics. When the Soviets invaded Czechoslovakia - partly in angry reply to Bonn's new line - Washington's absence, indeed its silence, were noted and resented in Bonn. The West German Ambassador still refrained from criticizing policy in Washington. But praise stopped.

The third phase began with the new cabinet of Chancellor Brandt, in September 1969. The Christian-Democrats, America's most constant supporters, were now in opposition. Brandt's loyalty to NATO has of course been made plain; security remains an imperative of any West German cabinet. But the new government has made spectacular moves in two directions less pleasing to Washington. There has been, at the conference of The Hague in Dec. 1969, a relance of West European cooperation, largely initiated by Brandt. In exchange for the lifting of their veto against Britain, the French obtained the promise and the performance of various agreements (notably in agriculture), all of which tend to make of the Common Market a more coherent and powerful economic competitor of the US. In Eastern Europe, the new West German policy has been aimed not only at resuming the effort of reconciliation with Poland, but at reaching agreements with East Germany (hitherto ignored or approached with great diffidence and with the Soviet Union (recognized, as de Gaulle had argued, as the real key to the East European scene). Although Washington has approved of the general direction, there have been serious misgivings about the speed, the implications and the possible effects of Brandt's *Ostpolitik*. This deliberate assertion of West German initiative is based on something more than the somewhat regretful realization of America's temporary incapacity due to Vietnam. Now, there is a widespread feeling that, while the US can still be counted as the ultimate protector in case of a major European crisis, the domestic and international impact of Vietnam has actually weakened the role of the US in European affairs in ways that could be harmful for its allies. It is because of the backlash from Vietnam that American troop reductions in Europe are deemed likely, thus obliging the West Europeans (and primarily the West Germans, most exposed) either to raise the levels - and costs - of their own defenses, or to accept a unilateral and uncompensated weakening of NATO. Thus, it is imperative for the West Europeans to develop their own policies and for the West Germans to establish with their Eastern neighbors good and active relations, even if this effort deprives NATO, in effect, of any role in the detente.

Strange as it may seem, Brandt's forceful policy can be seen as a belated West German variety of Gaullism - if the Americans are stupid enough to muddle their priorities, it is up to the Europeans, singly and together, to look after themselves. It used to be the West Europeans who feared that the US in its effort at

JANUARY 30, 1971

21

reaching an accommodation with the USSR, would recognize formally the divisions of Europe. It is now the US which fears that the Bonn-Moscow agreement acknowledging the *status quo* could jeopardize the Western victors' rights in Berlin! Of course, there is nothing inherently or necessarily wrong about the *Ostpolitik*. But because of Vietnam, it takes place exactly in that context of American eclipse which de Gaulle had called for, and, in turn, the conditions and consequences of that eclipse make it easier for the Russians to extract as the price for detente that explicit recognition of their East European *imporium* which has been their aim ever since the end of World War II (and which de Gaulle had wanted to avoid). Should Washington talk out too strongly to Bonn, Bonn's reply would all too obviously be: given your own passivity on the diplomatic scene, and your own lassitude with the burdens of NATO – two by-products of Vietnam – what other choice did we have?

The French position has been clear-cut and unchanging. Never was the American argument about the indivisible credibility of US pledges accepted in Paris. With a long and somewhat cold, or cynical, view of alliance history, the French believe that whether a nation carries out or reneges on a pledge is determined by its own assessment of its vital interests. A retreat from Vietnam would not undermine America's commitment to Europe, as long as the defense of Europe is deemed essential in Washington. On the other hand, the actual way in which this commitment would be carried out has always seemed uncertain to the French (much to Washington's annoyance) – not because of the impact of Vietnam, but because, even earlier, the end of America's monopoly in the nuclear field, and the coming of the era in which each super-power can annihilate the other, have underlined the US guarantee to Europe.

French criticisms have often been dismissed as *Schadenfreude*: where the French had failed, the Americans simply couldn't (or shouldn't) succeed; isn't it funny to see the Americans bogged down, after all the advice they had given the French on getting out of Algeria? Actually, there has been very little gloat-ing. The politicians of the far Right, former settlers emigrated from North Africa, who had been most vociferously opposed to France's decolonization, and most indignantly chauvinistic about American anti-colonialism, have been the only forces sympathetic to America's anti-Communist stand in Vietnam. French criticisms have also been dismissed either as a continuation of that left-wing, often fellow-travelling anti-Americanism so prevalent in the intelligentsia, with its inclination to interpret every American move as part of an imperialist design, or else as a convenient ploy used by de Gaulle in his devious battle for French grandeur against "Anglo-Saxons." It is true that the war in Vietnam has been a godsend both for anti-

American intelligentsia and for de Gaulle's grand design. But there is much more to the French position.

The French regime, by contrast with British or German cabinets, never deplored Vietnam because the war inhibited American diplomacy or strategy in other parts of the world. De Gaulle, in his struggle against "the two hegemonies," was most eager to see America's shadow across the world shortened (although he never wished American forces out of Europe in the present phase of world affairs). While Pompidou has given up much of de Gaulle's militancy (already curbed by the General after the troubles of May 1969), he too shows no desire for greater American activism in Europe. The French position is based on a continuing and intimate awareness of the political realities of Indochina. French contacts with North Vietnam have been encouraged by the Fifth Republic, and the men (like Jean Sainteny) with the longest experience in dealing with Hanoi have also tried to be of help, persistently and discreetly, in making negotiations between Washington and Hanoi possible. Until the fall of Sihanouk, French influence in Cambodia was very strong, and in Phnompenh as well as in Paris the French established relations with members of the NLF. They also had good relations with the beleaguered head of the Laotian government, Prince Souvana Phouma. While their critique of the American war effort and de Gaulle's foreign policy statements resulted in a deterioration of France's position in South Vietnam, especially in the Thieu-Ky era, there remained in South Vietnam a sizable French community.

The French do not deny the force of American arguments about the domino effect of a Communist takeover of South Vietnam (and now Cambodia) on the rest of Southeast Asia, or about the prospects of a bloodbath in Saigon, or about the absence of any visible sympathy for the NLF among many South Vietnamese. What the French remain deeply skeptical about, is Washington's capacity to impose the political solution preferred by the US. If there were a good chance for a stable, largely self-sustaining and reasonably peaceful non-Communist South, the French would have no grounds for opposing such an outcome. But they doubt that this chance exists. They point to the determination of North Vietnam and the Vietcong to keep fighting as long as necessary. North Korea, to use a misleading parallel often invoked in Washington's wishful thinking, simply did not have this determination in the early 1950s. It is buttressed by the still considerable military resources of Hanoi - a factor that distinguishes this particular war from the two guerrilla wars often cited as hopeful precedents because they were lost by the Communists: Greece and Malaya. The North Vietnamese and Vietcong confidence in outlasting those whom they consider as merely the last in a long series of foreign invaders has impressed and convinced the French.

The French do not believe, moreover, that the Sai-

22

THE NEW REPUBLIC

gon regime (in contrast with South Korea's for in-
stance) has the capacity to rule effectively without a
massive American presence. It is essentially a military
dictatorship, imposed on the South Vietnamese from
the top. The lack of a popular base in the cities and in
the villages, the arbitrary and brutal nature of the
rule, and its frequent corruption, are such as to allow
the Vietcong infrastructure to persist. Whatever the
military effectiveness of the Saigon regime in the
present phase (when the Vietcong and North Viet-
namese are relatively inactive, either in order to recoup
past losses or in order not to disrupt American with-
drawals), politically the NLF remains the only effective
organized and nationalist force in the South. The
French-unlike many Americans-see in the Indo-
china War essentially a political contest: the control
of the cities by the Americans and their allies is less
significant than the opportunities given to the Com-
munists to recruit soldiers and supporters, especially
in the countryside, and sympathizers among the urban
refugees and victims of inflation and disruption. In
this respect the French do not see Cambodia as an
American success but as a move that has resulted in an
American obligation to support two politically fragile
regimes instead of one.

Consequently, the French see only two possibilities. One is, almost literally, perpetual war, to keep the Communists from extending their control, which the French expect them to enlarge as American withdrawals continue. The French do not believe that Saigon could carry the burden alone. In the absence of a political solution, there would have to be a continued American involvement, certainly in the form of massive air support and probably a sizable body of ground soldiers and advisers. The other possibility is a negotiated settlement-but here the French position is drastically different from that of the Nixon Administration. They did not believe that the earlier American call for free, supervised elections in South Vietnam would be acceptable to the other side; in a country such as South Vietnam, after years of war and centuries of undemocratic rule, elections are won by whoever runs them. The French also do not believe that Hanoi and the NLF will ever accept the "Finnish solution" often hoped for in Washington and suggested by Mr. Nixon on October 7, 1970, a permanent minority status. They do not believe that the vague scheme once suggested by Henry Kissinger-a deal negotiated by Saigon and the NLF, to restore gradually a political process in the South, thus leaving each side with a chance to prevail at the end-will appeal to Hanoi and the Vietcong, as long as the Thieu-Ky regime rules Saigon. For Hanoi had precisely accepted such an open-ended formula in the Geneva agreements of 1954, and found itself on the losing side because of American support for Diem. Nor do the French believe that the other side-whose main asset is its capacity to fight-would consider a cease-fire before

the basic underlying issues of the war are resolved.

As the French see it, the stake of the war is the
political control of Indochina. To keep Laos, Cambodia
and South Vietnam out of Communist hands, there is
only one way- continuing war, a harrowing prospect,
since "victory" would require the elimination of North
Vietnam (a move whose international consequences
have intimidated both the Johnson and Nixon Admin-
istrations), while the maintenance of the North Viet-
namese sanctuary on the one hand, and the horrors
inflicted by the war on the population of the South on
the other, insure the perpetuation of the "other side's"
forces and appeals. To keep the war going favorably,
so to speak, requires enough of an American involve-
ment to guarantee that all the evil effects of the war on
American society, on the American economy and
political system, and on American foreign policy would
continue. A drastic curtailment of American involve-
ment would increase the chances of a Communist take-
over in particulary humiliating conditions; that is,
through the overthrow of regimes set up and supported
for years by US efforts, and without any compensation.

Given those alternative outcomes of a continuing war, the French believe that it is in America's interest to seek a negotiated settlement even though it would have to be on terms US governments have deemed repugnant. The French - with their own experience of negotiations with the Vietminh and with the Algerian FLN - do not agree with American officials on what constitutes humiliation. To the French, a peace settlement, even if it increases the chances for or acknowledges the possibility or even the likelihood of "enemy" control of the stakes, would be less humiliating than a political-military collapse accompanying or following an American withdrawal. For if face is what the US, like any major power, is concerned with, such a debacle would make the US look like Pontius Pilate, even though the Administration would argue that the ultimate responsibility, and blame, rested on the "Asian regimes" that fell, and not on the US. It is hard to believe that American prestige and the value of American promises would be preserved in the eyes of other non-Communist Asians. And it is also hard to believe that official rhetoric could sufficiently disguise realities to ward off that right-wing backlash at home which the Administration is said to fear, yet has done so much to provoke by escalating the importance of the stakes disproportionately. On the contrary, according to the French, only a negotiated settlement which draws the inevitable conclusions from the realities of Indochina, and gives up the attempt by the US to gain at the conference table what it has failed to achieve on the battlefield-secure non-Communist control-could grant to the US, in exchange for acknowledging this failure, various face-saving guarantees or delays. (To be sure, the French recognize that the other side too has failed to win on the battlefield, but Raymond

JANUARY 30, 1971

Aron's dictum still applies: in a revolutionary war, the rebels win as long as they don't lose, the government side loses if it fails to win).

Contrary to many American officials, the French believe that Hanoi would be willing to save America's face in a settlement that would meet its two major demands – a clear commitment to a total withdrawal of US forces and the demise of the Thieu-Ky regime. The French think that Hanoi understands that such a withdrawal could not be instant, and that Washington could not tolerate the immediate setting up of Communist rule in Saigon, or Phnompenh, or Vientiane. In his speech in the Phnompenh stadium, in September 1966, de Gaulle stressed his conviction that the decisive prerequisite was the American commitment to a complete withdrawal. Pompidou took the same stand last July. The French realize that, in practice, the fate of the Thieu-Ky regime has become, since then, the biggest obstacle, that the US can hardly afford to look as if, in order to extricate itself faster, it did not hesitate to overthrow the very government it has protected and built up for several years; and that the US cannot allow the Vietcong to pick its own partners in a coalition, as the Vietcong peace plan of last September implies. But, on the one hand, the French think that Hanoi and the NLF will never want to deal with a regime that is committed, not to compromise, but to total victory; on the other hand, the French believe that a clear American policy of total withdrawal with a deadline would unfreeze the political situation in Saigon and lead to a change in the government there.

The French realize America's repugnance to force a coalition government on the South Vietnamese. But they believe that a Saigon regime geared to peace could find an accommodation with the NLF, and they remember how, in their own dealings with the Algerians, a similar issue was resolved, not by coalition, but by a temporary regime of "third force" figures acceptable to both sides. Precisely because the French recognize the importance of face for the side that has to give up its earlier goals, and remember the successful pressure put by outside powers (including, then, the two great Communist allies of Hanoi: Russia and China) on North Vietnam in 1954 – leading to concessions beyond what the French had hoped for, the French government has called for a new Geneva conference, instead of peace talks in which Washington and Saigon face only Hanoi and the NLF.

In the French view, Vietnamization is less a policy than a smokescreen – and one that risks blinding only the US. It postpones the moment of choice, between a settlement along the lines recommended by the French (one in which Hanoi's "demands" are – as Hanoi has suggested – taken as a basis for discussion), and a perpetuation of the war. By leaving the Saigon regime with the hope that America's presence will not entirely disappear, Vietnamization prevents any political change in Saigon and gives Saigon a formidable hold on

American policy. It exposes the US to more Cambodias, each time one of the areas American policy tries to "save" looks threatened. The French know from their own experience that a postponement of tough decisions which does not alter the essential local realities proves ultimately costly, in lives, in missed opportunities and in worsened terms of settlement. They know that an apparent and celebrated improvement of the military situation is a delusion, if the political substructure remains rotten, if the enemy's main forces remain considerable, if all that is gained, temporarily, on the battlefield, is lost at home, and if locally the war, by itself, prevents the consolidation of one's own side and provides the enemy with the fuel he needs. They know that a carefully bargained settlement, embodying a balanced and coherent design, is more likely to serve America's prestige than either an inconclusive and brutal war, which does not help America's image, or an "après moi le déluge" debacle – the two possible outcomes of Vietnamization without a settlement.

Many West Europeans may, in past years, have been hastily critical of American values and institutions – they had “seen the future” and hadn’t liked it, but they had no doubt that it worked, and they feared that its very success would overwhelm the old continent. Now, there are serious, often wildly exaggerated doubts about the stability and effectiveness of the American political and social system. That the French shortly after May 1968, the Germans not so long after Nazism, or the British still battling with stagnation, should express such concerns may seem ironic or insulting to Americans – and yet the Europeans’ impressions are derived from seeing the US in the mirror which American politicians, news media, students, businessmen, military, veterans, hard-hat workers or union officials, offer to the world.

There is a growing worry about America's capacity to wage a national foreign policy. The way in which the Cambodian decision was taken, the rhetoric in which it was blown up, the repercussions it provoked in the nation, were all interpreted as ominous signs. Whereas the Administration used to defend the war as evidence of America's predictability (i.e. reliability), the Cambodian affair, in its conception and in its consequences, could not fail to be seen as a mark of unpredictability – and not of the sort that impresses and intimidates foes. Renewed bombings of the North, of Laos and Cambodia (understandable as a tactic to protect withdrawals, yet risking provocation of the very reescalation they aim at avoiding) and recent moves and pronouncements about US war prisoners have refreshed puzzlement and consternation. At a time when Western Europe worries greatly about the new Balkans – the Middle East – nothing could be more depressing than the evidence of confusion, illusion and oscillation which the latest avatars of Vietnam have so erratically provided.

03410
Redbank, New Jersey
543 Plaza Road North
Mrs. Allen Gordon

Henry V. Kissing
Personal Secretary to
Mlle. L. Piness

Sincerely,

branded, and unavailable anywhere else.
which are still very readable, reasonably
try and need book stores. I often find in them book
At this point, my beat suggestion would be to

& Brothers', that the book is out of print.
cations and learned from the publisher. Habber
build up a small personal supply of his bapli-
and Foreign Policy. I recently attempted to
in trying to obtain a copy of "Nuclear Weapons
letter of March 55. I understand your problem
I apologize for taking so long to reply to your

Dear Mrs. Gordon:

April 23, 1951

KIRRINGER, HENRY V.

Book-of-the-Month Club, Inc., Camp Hill, Pennsylvania 17011

•MRS ALLEN GORDON
354 PLAZA RD N
RADBURN NJ 07410

Account No. 021 008 811

March 15, 1971

Dear Member:

We regret that we are not able to supply a copy of
NUCLEAR WEAPONS & FOREIGN POLICY

which you recently ordered for the reason checked:

Not currently available from our supplier.
Please re-order in one month.

Because of small demand, this book is no longer
carried in an inventory of some 200,000 titles.

We are sorry if this causes any inconvenience.

410

mel

Please include your account number in any communication to us

KISSINGER, HENRY A. / Artefacts - Books (written by)

April 23, 1971

Dear Mr. Ries:

Mr. Kissinger asked me to write to you in re-
sponse to your letter of April 13.

We understand your problem in trying to find a
copy of Mr. Kissinger's book on Metternich ("A
World Restored: Castlereagh, Metternich and
the Restoration of Peace, 1812-1822"). I recent-
ly attempted to build up a small personal supply
of his publications and learned from the publisher,
Houghton-Mifflin, that the book is out of print.

At this point, my best suggestion would be to try
used book stores. I realize that the likelihood
of finding a used book store in Switzerland with
an English edition of Mr. Kissinger's book is
scant, but perhaps there is someone in the United
States who can keep an eye open for you.

I wish I could help you further.

Mr. Eugene Ries, Director for CDS
The Lutheran World Federation
Route de Ferney 150
1211 Geneva 20
Switzerland

Switzerland

1511 Geneva 50

Route de Farney 150

The Lutheran World Federation

Henry A. Klaasen
Personal Secretary to
Julienne R. Piusen

Sincerely,

States who can keep an eye open for you.
ascant, but perhaps there is someone in the United
an English edition of Mr. Klaasen's Book is
of finding a used book store in Switzerland with
used book stores. I realize that the likelihood
At this point, my best suggestion would be to try

Houghton-Milford, that the book is out of print,
of his publications and learned from the publisher,
ly attempted to build up a small personal publisk
the Restoration of Peace, 1815-1822). I recent-
World Restored: Castlereagh, Metternich and
copy of Mr. Klaasen's book on Metternich ("A
We understand your problem in trying to find a
abuse to your letter of April 13.

Mr. Klaasen asked me to write to you in re-


Dear Mr. Ries:

April 23, 1971

KISSINGER, HENRY V.