NetNews Usenet Archive 1992 #19/NN_1992_19.iso/spool/misc/activism/progress/6270

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From: [e-mail] (Jon Aske)
Subject: Chomsky (Z-9/92): Vain hopes, part 6/7
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The following article by Noam Chomsky appeared in:
     Z Magazine, September 1992
and is reprinted here with the magazine's permission.
------------------------------------------------------

Vain Hopes, False Dreams (Part 6 of 7, 11KB)
========================


7. The Hero-Villain Scenario
----------------------------

The withdrawal-without-victory thesis is typically understood to
subsume a second one: that LBJ was responsible for an immediate
reversal of policy from withdrawal to escalation.  The major
effort to establish the dual thesis is Newman's book, which has
received much attention and praise over a broad spectrum.  It was
the basis for the influential Oliver Stone film _JFK_, and is
taken by much of the left to be a definitive demonstration of the
twin theses.  The book was strongly endorsed by Arthur
Schlesinger, who describes it as a "solid contribution," with its
"straightforward and workmanlike, rather military...organization,
tone and style" and "meticulous and exhaustive examination of
documents." Former CIA Director William Colby, who headed the Far
East division of the CIA in 1963-64, hailed Newman's study of
these years as a "brilliant, meticulously researched and
fascinating account of the decision-making which led to America's
long agony in Vietnam"; _America's_ agony, in accordance with
approved doctrine.

The book is not without interest.  It contains some new
documentary evidence, which further undermines the
Newman-Schlesinger thesis when extricated from the chaotic jumble
of materials interlarded with highlighted phrases that
demonstrate nothing, confident interpretations of private
intentions and beliefs, tales of intrigue and deception of
extraordinary scale and complexity, so well-concealed as to leave
no trace in the record, and conclusions that become more strident
as the case collapses before the author's eyes.  By the end, he
claims that the National Security Council meetings of _1961_
"more than resolve the question" of whether Kennedy would have
sent combat troops under the radically different circumstances
faced by his advisers in 1965, a conclusion that captures
accurately the level of argument.

Newman's basic contention seems to be that JFK was surrounded by
evil advisers who were trying to thwart his secret plan to
withdraw without victory, though unaccountably, he kept giving
them more authority and promoting them to higher positions,
perhaps because he didn't understand them.  Thus JFK thought that
Taylor was "the one general who shared his own views and that he
could, therefore, trust to carry out his bidding." Shamelessly
deceived, JFK therefore promoted him to Chairman of the Joint
Chiefs and relied on him until the end, though Taylor was
undermining him at every turn; Taylor became "the second most
powerful person in the White House," Newman observes (180), with
no attempt to resolve the paradox.  There are a few "good guys,"
but in the chaos, it is hard to be sure who they are: perhaps
Harriman, Forrestal, Hilsman, and McNamara, though even they
joined the malefactors who beset our hero on every side (Harriman
and Hilsman "mired Kennedy in a plot to overthrow Diem," etc.).

The withdrawal-without-victory thesis rests on the assumption
that Kennedy realized that the optimistic military reports were
incorrect.  Newman agrees that through 1962 JFK accepted the
optimistic reports, but asserts that by March 1963, he had
"figured out...that the success story was a deception." There is
"hard evidence" for this, he claims, referring to an NBC
documentary on the Diem assassination in November 1963 that
questioned the optimistic intelligence reports.  The remainder of
the evidence is that "in his heart he must have known" that the
military program was a failure.  Unlike his advisers (at least,
those not in on the various "deceptions"), he "had to notice when
the military myth was shaken by Bowles and Mendenhall in late
1962," and by Mansfield's pessimism. "When the drama of the
Wheeler versus Hilsman-Forrestal match ended up in his office in
February 1963, the implication that the story of success was
untrue could no longer be overlooked" (by Kennedy, uniquely); the
"drama" is the difference of judgment as to the time scale for
victory, already reviewed.

Not a trace of supporting evidence appears in the internal
record, or is suggested here.  Furthermore, the reports by Bowles
and Mendenhall date from _before_ the time when JFK was still
deceived, according to Newman's account, and Mendenhall's at
least never even reached him, he notes.  As for Bowles, who had
been cut out of policymaking sectors much earlier, Newman does
not mention that after visiting Vietnam in July 1963, he sent a
highly confidential report to McGeorge Bundy (which, in this
case, the President may have seen), in which he wrote that "the
military situation is steadily improving" although "the political
situation is rapidly deteriorating," repeating the standard view
of military success, political failure, recommending various
escalatory steps, and expressing his hope that with "a bit of
luck," we may "turn the tide" and "lay the basis for a far more
favorable situation in Southeast Asia."

On this basis, we are to believe that JFK alone understood that
official optimism was unwarranted.

Curiously, there is one bit of evidence that does support the
conclusion, but Newman and other advocates of the thesis do not
make use of it.  Recall that at the NSC meeting considering the
McNamara-Taylor recommendations that were partially endorsed in
NSAM 263, Kennedy insisted on dissociating himself even from the
plan to withdraw 1000 personnel because he did not want to be
"accused of being over optimistic" in case the military situation
did not make it feasible.  He allowed the sentence on withdrawal
to remain only if attributed to McNamara and Taylor, without his
acquiescence.  In public too he was more hesitant about the
withdrawal plan than the military command.  One might argue,
then, that JFK did not share the optimism of his advisers, and
was therefore unwilling to commit himself to withdrawal.  This
conclusion has two merits not shared by the thesis we are
examining: (1) it has some evidence to support it; (2) it
conforms to the general picture of Kennedy's commitment to
military victory provided by the internal record.

Newman's efforts to demonstrate the "far-reaching and profound
nature of this reversal" that changed the course of history when
the iniquitous LBJ took over are no more impressive.  Thus he
cites an alleged comment reported by Stanley Karnow, in which LBJ
privately told the Joint Chiefs: "Just get me elected and then
you can have your war." Putting aside the reliability of the
source (which, elsewhere, Newman dismisses as unreliable when
Karnow questioned the withdrawal thesis), the full context
reveals that Karnow attributes to Johnson very much what
O'Donnell attributes to Kennedy; assuage the right, get elected,
and then do what you choose.  What LBJ chose was to drag his feet
much as JFK had done.

Newman concedes that as of October 2, 1963, when the
McNamara-Taylor withdrawal recommendations were presented, "So
far, it had been couched in terms of battlefield success." But
there was a "sudden turnabout of reporting in early November."
"As the Honolulu meeting approached the tide turned toward
pessimism as suddenly and as swiftly as the optimistic interlude
had begun in early 1962," Newman writes.  The participants in the
Nov. 20 meeting received "shocking military news." "The upshot of
the Honolulu meeting," he continues, "was that the shocking
deterioration of the war effort was presented in detail to those
assembled, along with a plan to widen the war, while the
1,000-man withdrawal was turned into a meaningless paper drill."
The three components of the "upshot" are of course related.  The
fact that prior to the "sudden turn toward pessimism" the entire
discussion of withdrawal had been "couched in terms of
battlefield success" thoroughly undermines Newman's thesis, as
becomes only more clear if we introduce the internal record that
he ignores.

In the end, Newman relies almost exclusively on the virtually
meaningless O'Donnell-Mansfield post-Tet reconstructions, while
ignoring the internal record, briefly reviewed, which conforms
closely to JFK's public stance.  His tale is woven from dark
hints and "intrigue," with "webs of deception" at every level.
The military were deceiving Kennedy's associates who were
deceiving Kennedy, while he in turn was deceiving the public and
his advisers, and many were deceiving themselves.  At least, I
think that is what the story is supposed to be; it is not easy to
tell in this labyrinth of fancy.  We are invited to view the
"unforgettable image of a President pitted against his own
advisers and the bureaucracy that served under him" from the very
outset, without a hint of evidence and no explanation as to why
he chose to rely on them in preference to others.  Newman
concedes that JFK's public statements refute his thesis, but
that's easily handled: JFK was cleverly feinting to delude the
right-wing by preaching about the high stakes to the general
public -- who largely didn't care or were uneasy about the war,
as JFK and his advisers knew, and could only be aroused to oppose
withdrawal by this inflammatory rhetoric.

By the end, we are wandering along paths "shrouded in mystery and
intrigue," guided by confident assertions about what various
participants "knew," "pretended," "felt," "intended," etc.  The
facts, whatever they may be, are interpreted so as to conform to
the central dogma, taken to have been established.  Given the
rules of the game (deceit, hidden intent, etc.), there can be no
counter-argument: evidence refuting the thesis merely shows the
depths of the mystery and intrigue.  I will put aside further
discussion here, returning to a fuller examination elsewhere.

Whatever genre this may be, any pretense of unearthing the facts
has been left far behind.  As in the case of the post-Tet
memoirs, the Newman study and its reception are of considerable
interest, but not as a contribution to history: rather, as an
interesting chapter of cultural history in the late 20th century.