Today, the Pentagon issued a press release saying that tomorrow (April 30) marks the 36th anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War--a conflict that claimed the lives of more than 58,000 Americans and continues to affect the United States, including its military leaders and current wartime operations.
Of all the stories I covered during my career as a foreign correspondent, the end of the war in Vietnam was without doubt the most challenging and life changing for me.
What follows is a story I wrote about the fall of Saigon and my last day "in country." It is longer than my normal blog posts, but I hope you will find it interesting and enlightening.
Long before America became embroiled in such places as Afghanistan and Iraq, there was Vietnam—an almost 10 year-long war that some have called America’s “lost crusade.”
This is the story of the last day of that crusade—a 24 hour period between April 29-30, 1975 when America’s political and military involvement in Vietnam came to a frenzied, sad and ignominious end. The memories of the final day of America’s involvement in Vietnam remain etched in my mind even after 36 years.
During that final day 1,373 Americans, 5,680 Vietnamese and an exhausted and ailing American ambassador with the American flag folded under one arm and his pet poodle under the other would flee a land infamous for its coups d'etat and its byzantine cabals—a stunningly beautiful land of soaring green hills, lush forests, vast rubber plantations and fertile rice paddies that had become a political and military swamp for several American presidents.
Most Americans have subsequently concluded that the longest war in this nation’s history was also the first war America ever lost. In fact, however, as a former North Vietnamese colonel told me several years ago, one of the great ironies of Vietnam is that the American military was never defeated in any battle of consequence.
“You lost the war in the cities and villages of America, not on the battlefields of Vietnam,” said Col. Ba Thang political commissar of the Saigon¬ Gia Dinh Special Action Unit. “We could never hope for a military victory against such a formidable foe. Our strategy was to survive, to make the war last so long that you Americans would eventually tire and go home. That is what happened. We divided you politically and sapped your will to fight a war in a country few Americans had ever heard of or cared about.”
Indeed, while the specter of Vietnam still haunts us today, in the 1960s and 1970s it divided the nation like nothing since the Civil War. In some ways, it continues to do so.
References to American involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan as America’s “new Vietnams” are constantly seen and heard in the news media. The phrase “no more Vietnams” adorns placards at nearly every demonstration against U.S. involvement in Iraq and one even hears references to “the light at the end of the tunnel,” the phrase used in the 1960s by former Defense Secretary Robert McNamara to describe U.S. progress toward winning the war in Vietnam.
McNamara’s pet phrase was far from my mind 36 years ago when a barrage of 122 mm rockets slammed into Saigon. It was a little after 4 a.m. on April 29, 1975 when I was jolted awake in my second floor room of Saigon’s four-story French colonial-era Continental Palace Hotel. As I sat upright in my bed I realized it was oppressively hot and after the initial explosions, strangely quiet.
Then I realized why. The ancient window air conditioner had stopped its moaning and coughing. There was no electricity. Apparently the North Vietnamese had hit one of Saigon’s power plants—a common occurrence during the past few weeks. I lit one of the dozen or so candles I always kept ready and looked up at the ceiling. The gecko lizards had stopped chasing after mosquitoes and were retreating down the walls. Cockroaches the size of credit cards were scampering into the cracks of the ruby floor tiles. Even the rat that regularly patrolled my room was gone (I had named him General Giap, after the architect of North Vietnam’s military campaign).
I wondered if what I had heard had been thunder. April 28th had been a day of thunderstorms with lightening flashing over the city. Then, a few moments later the unmistakable metallic sound of a 122 mm rocket shrieked through the heavy humid night air and exploded nearby. This time chunks of ancient plaster fell from the ceiling and the walls of the 100-year-old hotel shuddered.
That was not thunder. These were the first rockets to hit Saigon since April 27 when one slammed into the roof of the Majestic Hotel overlooking the Saigon River a few blocks away killing a hotel porter. Later that same morning another rocket smashed into Saigon’s bustling Ben Thanh Market killing more than a dozen people.
I jumped from bed, scampered barefoot over the cool crimson tiles to the small balcony overlooking Lam Son Square and threw open the French windows. Before me, looming in all its hulking alabaster majesty, was the old National Assembly Building and beyond it the high rise Caravelle Hotel. Both were intact.
To my right where Le Loi Street bisected Tu Do Street several members of the South Vietnamese home guard with red rosettes in their buttonholes identifying them as loyalists, were firing their ancient M-1 carbines. For the past several weeks home guard troops, who were mostly teenagers, had patrolled the streets by day and at night had slept on sidewalks wrapped in ponchos.
As I looked down at the home guard, bullets buzzed through the dank night air and ricocheted off nearby buildings. I ducked as several rounds slammed into the white façade of the hotel. During the past several months I had gotten to know several of these home guard militia. Their job was to enforce Saigon’s nighttime curfew. I paid them to escort me after curfew to the Public Telephone and Telegraph Office so I could telex my stories back to the Chicago Tribune.
“What are you shooting at?” I yelled.
“V.C., beaucoup V.C.,” a 17-year-old named Nha shouted back.
“Where?”
“They everywhere…you better hide.” Then Nha, who was usually wasted on Vietnamese “33” beer by this time, shrieked with laughter. “Khong co gi,” (it doesn’t matter). We kill all number ten V.C.”
Yeah, I remember thinking, if you don’t kill everybody else in the city first. Nha lifted his rifle and fired several more rounds into the air. I had seen Nha in action with his M-1 carbine during our after curfew hikes to the PTT office. He often amused himself by blasting away at the giant rats that roamed Saigon’s deserted streets after the cyclos and ancient smoke-belching Renault taxis had stopped running for the night.
I retreated back into my room. In the distance there were more heavy explosions—what sounded like 80 mm mortar rounds and 130mm heavy artillery hitting Tan Son Nhut, Saigon’s main airport some 7 miles away. The temperature was already approaching 90 degrees as I got dressed, and the sun wasn’t even up. I decided to forgo what would have been a cold shower. I needed to get downstairs to see what was going on.
Was this it? I can recall thinking. Is this the end? As it turned out, America's ill-fated crusade in Vietnam was indeed over. And this was the way it would end: not with honor, as one president had suggested, but in ignominy and humiliation and chaos.
Even though the city was now under a 24-hour curfew, for much of that final day some 20,000 terrified, shrieking Vietnamese—many of them former U.S. government employees—would surround the American Embassy, pleading with Marine guards to allow them inside the 10-foot walls so they could board the choppers that would take them to the armada of 44 American ships waiting off the Vietnamese coast.
Some would make it over the walls and onto the choppers. But only some. Most would be held at bay by U.S. soldiers—former allies—who pointed M-16s at them, cursed them, pounded their clawing fingers with rifle butts and threatened to blow their heads off.
I can still hear the voices of American embassy officials and their Vietnamese interpreters shouting: “Khong ai se bi bo lai!” (No one will be left behind) at the frantic throng outside the Embassy compound.
It was a scene that still saddens me today—one that made me ashamed to be an American, not because we were leaving in abject defeat but because we were betraying thousands if not millions of Vietnamese who believed our promises of a free and better Vietnam if they supported our policies.
I had arrived in Vietnam from my Tokyo base in January 1975, and with the exception of a few weeks spent in Phnom Penh, Cambodia in late February and early March, I had lived in Saigon at the Continental Palace.
The North Vietnamese push for Saigon began March 7 in Vietnam's central highlands. Four days later, the provincial capital city of Ban Me Thuot, 180 miles north of Saigon fell. A few days later, South Vietnamese President Nguyen Van Thieu decided to adopt a plan of “strategic withdrawal,” which, in effect, conceded the northern half of South Vietnam to the Communists and precipitated one of the greatest routs in military history.
By early April, the North Vietnamese controlled almost 75 percent of the country and a palpable sense of doom enveloped Saigon. The city’s ubiquitous bars, famous for their “Saigon tea,” were mostly empty. Vendors selling “pho” and “ca-phe sua” (beef noodle soup and “white” coffee), beggars and hundreds of homeless children had all retreated from the streets.
While these were ominous signs, I knew the end was near when the Indian tailor on Tu Do Street where I had gotten shirts made and changed dollars into Vietnamese piastres, began producing North Vietnamese and Viet Cong flags instead of American and South Vietnamese banners.
“It’s the reality of the situation you see,” he told me matter-of-factly one afternoon. “You do what you must to survive. You press chaps can leave, I cannot. Frankly, I am happy that this nasty affair is ending finally after so many terrible years.”
The official length of the war is generally conceded to have been eight years—from 1965, when President Lyndon B. Johnson sent in the U.S. Marines, to 1973, when the Paris peace accord was signed. However, if you count the first advisers sent to Vietnam by Harry Truman in 1950, America's involvement in S. E. Asia spanned three decades. During that time, about 3.1 million military personnel (including 7,200 women) served in Vietnam.
The human toll was staggering. By the time America's active involvement in the war officially ended in 1973, it had claimed the lives of 58,183 American men and women. Another 304,000 Americans came home wounded, sometimes physically and sometimes mentally. One of every 10 soldiers who served in Vietnam was a casualty.
In addition, some 105 journalists died covering the war—more than in any other conflict in world history. Several are still missing.
Vietnam was nothing if not intense. For example, Pentagon figures show that the average infantryman in the Pacific theater in World War II saw about 40 days of actual combat in four years. In Vietnam the average infantryman saw about 240 days of combat in one year—a fact directly attributable to the helicopter, which allowed for much more rapid deployment of troops.
Then there are the MIAs—the 2,211 Americans still unaccounted for in Southeast Asia, including 1,651 in Vietnam.
The dollar cost of the war: More than $165 billion—a figure which includes the loss of 3,689 fixed-wing aircraft, 4,857 helicopters and 15 million tons of ammunition.
In Vietnam the impact of America's involvement in the war was even more conspicuous: 3 million Vietnamese killed, including 1 million North Vietnamese and Viet Cong soldiers; 250,000 South Vietnamese soldiers; and 2 million civilians, according to Vietnam's Ministry of Labor, War Invalids and Social Affairs. More than 600,000 North Vietnamese and Viet Cong troops were wounded, while 500,000 South Vietnamese troops were wounded and 2 million civilians on both sides were crippled by mines, artillery fire, chemical defoliants, bombings and the general mayhem of war.
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In early April I had driven my rented jeep to a town called Phouc Hiep and found myself in the middle of a rice paddy along with a handful of other reporters when a fire fight broke out between ARVN (South Vietnamese) and North Vietnamese troops.
We broke into a wild run across a wide expanse of dry paddies toward a hamlet when we heard the telltale “thump” of a mortar shell being fired.
“Eat dirt,” someone yelled and we plunged en masse into a 3-foot deep irrigation ditch. Seconds later an earsplitting explosion sent huge chunks of dirt and rock flying through the air and on top of us. We were fully exposed in the middle of a 10-acre chain of rice paddies. The nearest cover was a small river about 300 yards away. We thought about making a dash for it, but small arms fire from both sides kept us pinned down. We remained there in the muddy ditch for what seemed like hours as bullets kicked up dirt all around us. In fact, the battle lasted only about 15 minutes.
When the shooting subsided we scampered toward the river, zigging and zagging as we went. When we got there we paid some farmers who had taken cover along the river bank to ferry us to the other side in their wooden canoes. Once, there we were met with the aftermath of the battle. The bodies of perhaps 15 NVA soldiers were strewn across a field. They had walked into an ambush.
I was making a few notes and photographing the scene when several children from the nearby village emerged and began stripping the soldiers of any valuables they had—watches, rings, shoes. Others were amusing themselves by jumping back and forth over the wire cable that connected several anti-personnel claymore mines to a triggering device. One touch and the mines could have killed six or seven children and anybody else in standing within the effective killing range. When detonated a Claymore sends some 700 steel balls flying in a 60-degree horizontal arc at a height of 6 feet over a radius of 300 feet.
In Vietnam, I wrote in my notebook, the war and its instruments of destruction had become a deadly amusement park.
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On April 20, the provincial capital of Xuan Loc just 46 miles east of Saigon fell after holding out for several days against a tenacious siege by NVA troops. The fall of Xuan Loc was a signal for people to proclaim what quickly became Saigon's epitaph: "La Guerre est fini; Saigon est fini; everything est fini."
It also sped up the dynamic Saigon rumor mill. One rumor said that Catholics originally from the north would be sent on a death march along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Another rumor said that Viet Cong soldiers in Da Nang had ripped out the manicured fingernails of prostitutes, prompting a frenzy of fingernail cutting and polish removing among Saigon's bar girls. Yet another rumor said that unmarried Catholic girls would be forced to marry North Vietnamese war invalids.
The rumors had one cumulative effect: they tended to support the growing belief that the end was near.
Since early April, several of us had pressed the U.S. Embassy for details of the evacuation—with no result. U.S. Ambassador Graham Martin, who died in 1990, was intent on not creating panic by discussing the possibility of an American exodus. Until the last day of the war, he had held out hope that a negotiated end of hostilities could be worked out. Indeed, two days before he had gone on Vietnamese television and announced: “I, the American Ambassador, am not going to run away in the middle of the night. Any of you can come to my home and see for yourselves that I have not packed my bags. I give you my word.”
Martin had, nevertheless, sanctioned a low-key evacuation of Vietnamese and Americans called Operation Talon Vise. During a two week period before April 30, Operation Talon Vise evacuated about 37,000 Vietnamese employees of the U.S. government and their families from Tan Son Nhut to Clark Air Base in the Philippines—far short of the several hundred thousand Vietnamese who had worked with the American military assistance command in some way and who ultimately would be consigned to horrific “reeducation camps” by the communist conquerors, in some cases for 10 years or more.
In order to ensure that Talon Vise went smoothly, Martin authorized bribes to Saigon police so buses could move through checkpoints without a problem. He also allowed Vietnamese to be smuggled into the American Embassy through a hole cut into the wall of the adjacent French Embassy.
“What a perfect metaphor for this f…ked up place,” the late Hunter S. Thompson, who was covering the end of the war for Rolling Stone Magazine, told me one evening. We were having dinner at the My Canh floating restaurant on the Saigon River. “Lies, deceit and betrayal. Hey, I think I have the name for my next book.” The “gonzo” journalist then took a long drag on a fat Buddha grass joint and asked if he could ride out with me to “the action” the next day.
I dreaded taking Thompson with me because he had a tendency to wander off. I always feared that I would return to Saigon and have to announce that Thompson was captured by the Viet Cong or had stepped on a mine. I didn’t want to be responsible for the death or capture of “Uncle Duke” the Doonesberry cartoon strip character modeled on Thompson.
“What a thought,” someone said one evening. “If Thompson gets captured he will get the whole North Vietnamese Army high and the war will be over tomorrow.”
As it turned out, Thompson left Saigon for Hong Kong long before the evacuation and Rolling Stone had to send in another reporter to cover the story. “This bull shit is going to last forever. I’ve got rigorous shopping to do,” he told me before he left for the airport.
Thompson’s assessment notwithstanding, Ambassador Martin did not want to be accused of cutting and running. It is possible today to forgive Martin for his muddled thinking—especially in light of the revelations contained in the book “In Retrospect: The Tragedy and Lessons of Vietnam” published in 1995 by one of the architects of America's involvement in Vietnam, former Defense Secretary Robert McNamara.
McNamara's admission that he and others in the Kennedy and Johnson administrations knew the war was wrong—and even un-winnable—as far back as 1965 but decided to send Americans to fight and die there anyway makes Martin's diplomatic dithering seem acceptably innocuous.
Finally, on April 26 with 16 NVA army divisions converging on the capital from every direction, a special “evacuation code” was revealed by the U.S. Embassy that would alert us when an evacuation was imminent.
The code, which would be played over a local U.S.-operated FM station would be this: A short announcement that said “The temperature is 105 degrees and rising,” followed by the first eight bars of the song “White Christmas.”
I can recall sitting one evening on the "Continental Shelf"—the open air veranda of the Continental Palace Hotel (now glassed in and renamed Chez Guido) that overlooks Tu Do and Le Loi streets—when several Japanese correspondents came rushing up to my table.
“How does ‘White Christmas’ go?” they inquired anxiously. I hummed it for them. For the next few days Japanese and others not familiar with the old Bing Crosby Christmas standard could be seen standing on Saigon street corners humming the song to one another.
It was one of those droll little moments that punctuated the larger agony of the war's last few hours.
But that humor was all but forgotten as April 29 dawned and several of us huddled in the lobby of the Continental Hotel listening to the portable UHF receiver an embassy official had given the American press corps.
Over the tiny receiver we could hear radio traffic between the U.S. Marine contingent charged with guarding the hulking complex of U.S. Defense Attache Office buildings near Tan Son Nhut Air Base called “Pentagon East.”
The radio crackled with a running commentary from the Marine unit assigned to the building as one artillery shell after another slammed into Tan Son Nhut and the American compound.
“The back end of the gym's been hit!” a Marine shouted into his radio.
“Roger that, Whiskey Joe,” came the monotone reply from the embassy which was appropriately code named “Dodge City.”
“My god, control, we've got two Marine KIAs.”
“Where are the bodies?” asked the voice from the embassy.
“They're right here. What should we do with them?”
Then there was a tremendous explosion, amplified by the small radio.
“Jesus, the ammo dump's just been hit! All hell has broken loose out here!”
A few hours later, Operation Frequent Wind (the name given to the final evacuation) was ordered by President Gerald Ford and I paid one last visit to my room in the Continental Palace. I had stockpiled a couple of cases of American beer, soft drinks and a variety of PX junk food, along with a small library of pirated books.
I found Mr. Phan, one of the elderly hotel concierge staffers who slept in a small room on the second floor, sweeping my room as if nothing had happened. For almost two months Mr. Phan, who always appeared in clean white cotton pants and jacket, had cleaned my room, kept me in fresh bottled water and occasionally sprayed my room in a futile gesture at ridding it of roaches and other critters of the night.
I pressed a wad of Vietnamese piastres into his hand. Then it occurred to me that the money would be worthless in a few hours—indeed, as far as Saigon’s ubiquitous money changers were concerned, piastres had been worthless for the past two weeks.
I had about $500 in cash and I pealed off $300 and gave it to him.
“Here, this may come in handy, Mr. Phan,” I said. “And please take anything you want from my room.” I suggested he might want to get out of central Saigon and find a safe place until the fighting and artillery barrage stopped.
He smiled, bowed ever so slightly and announced: “Thank you, but not to worry, I am V.C!”
Many of us had suspected for some time that a lot of the “boys,” as Mr. Phan and his co-workers at the Continental were called, were probably Viet Cong or V.C. sympathizers. One reason many journalists stayed at the old hotel was because we had heard that the owner paid “war taxes” to the Viet Cong so it would not be targeted for attack.
As we shook hands he looked up at me and said: “Why do you not stay. Everything will be OK here. Much better if you stay here.”
I explained that the Tribune had ordered me to leave and that I had a baby daughter I hadn’t seen for almost four months.
He nodded. “Yes, yes, maybe better you go now.”
It was the last time I would ever see Phan, who was in his 70s at the time. When I returned in 1985 for the 10th anniversary of the war’s end, the staff at the Continental Palace informed me he had passed away in 1982.
By 10 a.m., a small army of American, European and Asian correspondents lugging typewriters, sound equipment, suitcases and shoulder bags left the Continental in silent single file. We had been told to make our way to a point six blocks away near the Saigon River.
As we trudged down Tu Do Street, ARVN soldiers and home guard units watched our ragtag formation menacingly. In the distance we could hear the constant explosion of artillery and mortar shells as they slammed into the city's suburbs.
“You leave now?” Nha, the home guard soldier, asked me as we slogged toward the river. His M-1 carbine was slung over his back and for the first time since I had known him and his small squad of home guard soldiers, he seemed genuinely terrified of what the next few hours would bring.
“Yes, we leave now,” I said sheepishly. Then, for some reason, I said: “I'm sorry . . . sorry for all of this.”
“Bo di, chang co sao aau” (Never mind, it doesn’t matter), Nha said. “You come back someday.” He was right, of course. I would return in 1985 and again in 1995 to witness the 10th and 20th anniversaries of the fall of Saigon.
Finally, we arrived at our evacuation point: a spot facing a statue of Vietnam's 6th Century military hero Tran Hung Dao. A helipad had been created atop a building, but the South Vietnamese navy had placed a 50-caliber machine gun on the top of a building next door. It was decided the machine gun might be used against departing U.S. choppers. So that evacuation point was abandoned.
I made my way to the U.S. Embassy thinking that might be an option for catching a chopper out. It was surrounded by thousands of furious Vietnamese demanding to be let inside the embassy compound. There was no way I was going to push my way through that mob.
I trudged down Hai Ba Trung Street. The temperature was already close to 100 degrees and my shirt was soaked through with perspiration. Eventually, I made my way to an alternate evacuation point—the University of Maryland's Saigon Education Center. It was padlocked. I waited. Finally, at 12:20 p.m. two olive drab buses arrived and I climbed aboard along with about 60 other members of the Saigon press corps.
The two buses then began an aimless voyage through Saigon. Every few blocks the buses would stop and the Marine assigned to our bus would ask for instructions with his two-way radio.
“What's this, the Graham Martin sightseeing excursion?” someone asked.
The UHF radio in the Marine's hand crackled. It was “Dodge City” again.
“We're in trouble here!” a voice said. “There are 20,000 people at the front gate of the embassy. It's getting hostile.”
“What should I do with my bus?” our Marine driver shouted into his radio.
“Looks like Tan Son Nhut's your only option,” came the reply. “Don't come here!”
“Roger that,” the Marine said. Then, turning to the 60 people jammed on the bus, he said. “Looks like we're going to the airport.” In the distance we could hear the explosion of rockets and mortar shells slamming into Tan Son Nhut.
As the bus approached the main gate of the air base we could see black pillars of smoke rising from the runway. Then Vietnamese guards at the gate began firing their M-16s in our direction. We dove for the floor.
Our Marine escort, code named “Wagon master,” yelled into his radio for instructions. “This looks bad. What should we do? What is the situation at DAO?”
”It ain't good,” the radio crackled. “We are taking lots of mortar and artillery fire. Bust through the gate if necessary and then drive like hell.” The radio crackled and as an afterthought, a voice said: “Good luck.”
I seriously considered getting off the bus and walking the 7 or 8 miles back to the city. Before I could, the driver moved the bus back some 100 yards from the gate.
“This is it,” he yelled. “Keep low. We’re busting through the gate!” He stomped on the accelerator and the bus lurched forward. As we bore down on the gate at about 60 mph, we expected the guards to start shooting. Instead, they inexplicably backed off and opened the gates seconds before the lumbering vehicle would have rammed through them.
Off to one side a downed Huey helicopter, one skid broken off, lay on its side with its motor running and its tail rotor still spinning.
We watched a Vietnamese C-119 transport plane somehow lift off from the cratered runway and we applauded the pilot's skill. Our applause turned to horror seconds later when a heat-seeking missile streaked skyward, slammed into the transport and sent it plummeting toward what looked like the Cholon section of Saigon.
As we pulled up to the DAO compound, a 122 mm rocket punched into the Air America terminal just across the road, showering us with debris.
I was in the back of the bus trying frantically to get the locked emergency rear door open when another artillery shell exploded a few hundred feet away, pelting the area with shrapnel and breaking several windows in the bus. By this point I was on my back kicking with all my strength at the door. Finally, I managed to kick the door open. I slid down to the ground and waited for a few minutes using the bus as cover. Most of the press corps had already made it into the building. I took a deep breath, then began my sprint over some 50 feet of open ground to the DAO building. Another rocket slammed into the road a few yards behind me. I dove to the ground and flattened myself on the hot concrete. I could hear razor sharp metal shrapnel slicing through the air behind me. A few seconds later I pulled myself up and scuttled like a crab toward the door.
Once inside we crouched along interior hallways and waited. A couple of hours went by. Several Marines handed out paper tags and told us to write our names and next of kin on them and attach them to our clothing.
“These are for you, not your luggage,” they said. I knew what they were. I had seen them before—attached to the bodies of battle casualties.
Outside a constant deluge of rockets, mortars and artillery shells rained on Tan Son Nhut and the DAO compound. I closed my eyes and actually managed a few minutes of sleep between explosions.
It was almost 6 p.m., some 14 hours since the final bombardment of Saigon had begun. I was exhausted. I was sure every ounce of adrenalin in my body was used up. I thought about the C-119 I had watched get knocked out the sky by a SAM-7 missile and began to wonder if I had made the right choice. Maybe I should stay. After all, during one of the Saturday briefings at the Viet Cong compound at Tan Son Nhut, which was established as part of the 1973 Peace Accords, Col. Ba had told me all correspondents would be treated as “guests” by the conquering North Vietnamese Army.
“We are not barbarians like the Khmer Rouge,” Col. Ba said, referring to the news of the carnage in Phnom Penh that was beginning to filter into Saigon. “Just remain in your hotel room and someone will come for you. Those who earn an honest living will be welcome.”
Of course, I had not remained in my hotel room. I was inside the DAO compound, more than 7 miles from the Continental Palace Hotel. How would I get back to the city center? Catch a ride on a NVA T-54 tank? Hardly.
The shelling outside intensified. The huge DAO building trembled as one artillery shell after another slammed the compound. I was on the verge of getting up and hoofing it back to central Saigon when a Marine captain walked into the corridor and bellowed:
“OK, this is it! We’re moving out! Di di mao…Go, go, go!”
We spilled out of the DAO building. Two Sikorsky CH-53 Sea Stallion heavy helicopters were waiting on a tennis court about 300 feet away, their blades whooshing slowly in the hot sticky air. After what seemed an eternity I and about 80 others scrambled up the rear loading ramp hunkered on the floor and canvas bench seats. Seconds later the load master raised the ramp and we lifted off.
We flew low at first, then the pilot put the helicopter into a steady climb. I stood up and looked down at Saigon over door gunner’s shoulder. The city looked bizarrely peaceful and idyllic with the Saigon River meandering through the city and toward the South China Sea some 50 miles away.
Forty minutes later we were landing on the deck of the USS Denver, a Landing Platform Dock about 35 miles off the coast of Vung Tau.
For the next several hours we watched one helicopter after another arrive. Some unauthorized South Vietnamese army helicopters were allowed to land and then were pushed over the side into the sea.
Eventually, with the ship’s decks filled, Vietnamese pilots were no longer allowed to land, so they would fly their Hueys to within 100 yards of the ship, open the doors and jump into the sea along with their passengers. The chopper would remain in flight for a few moments and then pitch into the ocean-sometimes dangerously close to those swimming toward our ship.
At 4:58 a.m. April 30, Ambassador Martin closed down the embassy, destroyed its communications equipment and climbed aboard a helicopter on the embassy roof.
The helicopter pilot sent a message to the fleet: “Lady Ace Zero Nine, Code Two is aboard.” Lady Ace Zero Nine was the chopper’s own call sign; “Code Two” was the designation for an ambassador.
At 7:52 a.m., the last chopper lifted off the roof of the U.S. Embassy, carrying out the small detachment of Marines who had guarded the embassy compound and engaged terrified Vietnamese in a running floor-by-floor holding action throughout April 29 and early April 30.
As the last Huey lifted off, the pilot radioed the final official U.S. message from Saigon: “Swift-Two-Two is airborne with 11 passengers. Ground security force is aboard.”
Then, the radio crackled again: “Bye, bye Vietnam,” a voice said. “Bye, bye for now.”
Aboard the USS Denver several of us looked at one another in stunned silence. The longest war of the 20th Century was finally over. Our emotions ran the gamut: relief, guilt, anger, disgust, joy, sadness—depending on who you were and what country you were from.
“So this is what the light at the end of the tunnel looks like,” I said to no one in particular. I then went below decks to write my last story of America’s war in Vietnam.
endit
Friday, April 29, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Why Was There No Looting in Japan in Earthquake Aftermath?
Recently someone sent me an e-mail that mentioned a magazine article discussing the orderly conduct of Japanese citizens and the absence of looting and other forms of social mayhem after large portions of that country north of Tokyo were devastated by the recent earthquake, tsunami and nuclear nightmare.
Social scientists in the U.S., the article said, were baffled by the total non-existence of looting and savage behavior in Japan considering the magnitude of this catastrophe and the fact that you have 130 million Japanese crammed together in an area the size of California.
Think back to the aftermath of Katrina in New Orleans. All social order essentially broke down and looting, robbery, and killing became the norm. For weeks it was every man and woman for themselves and anything went. Naturally, the first rule of survival was to break into an appliance store and loot a big screen HD TV or some other appliance. How many scenes like that did you see from Japan?
I can tell you. None.
I lived and worked as a correspondent almost 10 years in Japan and I can tell you it is different from all other countries I reported from.
First, it remains a largely homogeneous society with minimal immigration. Thus Japanese society behaves like some vast bee hive where people live and work collaboratively while still competing with one another. They are governed by a highly developed system of behavior that dates back some 2,000 years.
Without going into great detail the way Japanese people behave is governed by three rather complex concepts:
1. Giri (義理), which denotes an “obligation, duty, justice” and an obligation to be ”faithful” and “conscientious”.
2. Tatemae (建前), which literally means "façade," is the behavior and opinions one displays in public. Tatemae is what is expected by society and required according to one's position and circumstances, and these may or may not match one's honne.
3. Honne (本音) refers to a person's true feelings and desires. These may be contrary to what is expected by society or what is required according to one's position and circumstances, and they are often kept hidden, except with one's closest friends.
Taken together, these are powerful forces on the individual to behave in an honorable way. The idea that there would be mass looting in Japan is simply anathema to Japanese culture. If you chose to behave outside of these norms then you are bringing shame on your name and your family. That is an unforgiveable sin in Japan.
Does that mean there is no violence in Japan or that murder, rape and other forms of assault never happen?
No.
Crime does occur in Japan, but in much less than in the United States and most other Western nations. The 1,097 murders in Japan last year were, according to statistics from the National Police Agency (NPA), down 200 from the previous year, a third of the number in 1954. This is out of a population of some 130 million, in the middle of the worst recession since the war.
This represents less than a tenth of the murder rate in the U.S., and a hundredth of that of the most violent countries in the Caribbean and South and Central America. Chicago, with a population of some 3 million, recorded 458 homicides--almost half of the murders in the entire nation of Japan with its 130 million people.
Some social scientists have concluded that in addition to the peculiarly Japanese concepts of Giri, Tatamae and Honne, another reason for the low murder rate is the nation's aging society. The number of people in their 20s — which is the peak age for murder — is falling, and with it, the murder rate is falling steadily, they say.
Of course, the U.S. and most of Western Europe are also aging societies with birth rates dropping sharply. Yet violent crime is still high compared with Japan.
In the late 1980s I wrote a story for the Chicago Tribune that discussed Japan's low crime rate. In it I discussed Japan's unique social structure and the importance it places on the individual to conform to the objectives and motivations of the larger group. In Japan much more importance is placed on conformity and social responsibility.
In the U.S. and most other Western Nations tremendous emphasis is placed on the individual. We encourage independent thought and place great value on individuality and uniqueness. In the U.S. it is often "all about me" to the detriment of others. We teach our children that they are more important than the whole. This "me, me, me" attitude continues into adolescence and adulthood and ironically has manifested itself into an inability of people to accept personal responsibility for their actions.
How often do we hear people say: "But it's not my fault," when, in fact, it is. Or maybe they are simply saying "The Devil made me do it." Avoiding personal responsibility has become a new American pastime. Look at the millions of people who took out low interest, sub-prime loans for houses they knew they couldn't afford. Then, when the housing market crashed and burned, they were left upside down in houses with mortgages much higher than the value of their property.
"It wasn't my fault," many said. "The banks made me do it."
Sigh.
In my story from Japan I used the example of a real event that occurred in Tokyo. A thief broke into the house of an aging pensioner. Holding a small knife he demanded the old man's money. The pensioner went to a small chest and pulled out the yen equivalent of about $100.
"That's all I have," the old man said.
The thief took the money, counted it and asked the pensioner how long it would be before he got his next check.
"About a week," he said.
"Here," the thief said. "This should be enough until then." He then returned half of the old man's money, bowed politely, and left.
In Japan, apparently, even thieves possess a sense of Giri, Tatamae and Honne.
Below are some recent crime statistics for selected countries and Japan. They are quite revealing.
Murders per 100,000:
1. Russian Federation 18.07
2. United States 6.32
3. Malaysia 2.73
4. Taiwan 1.17
5. Spain 1.08
6. Japan 0.58
Rape per 100,000:
1. United States 34.20
2. England and Wales 14.69
3. France 13.38
4. Taiwan 8.82
5. South Korea 4.38
6. Spain 3.23
7. Japan 1.48
Serious Assault per 100,000:
1. Australia 713.68
2. England & Wales 405.20
3. United States 357.94
4. Taiwan 37.30
5. Spain 23.94
6. Japan 15.40
Robbery/Violent Theft per 100,000:
1. Spain 169.85
2. United States 169.02
3. France 144.10
4. Taiwan 14.35
5. South Korea 11.74
6. Japan 2.71
In the U.S. we can't even win an NBA or NFL championship without violence breaking out. In Japan a devastating 9.0 earthquake, tsunami and threat of nuclear disaster has little impact on the fabric of Japanese society.
Go figure.
Social scientists in the U.S., the article said, were baffled by the total non-existence of looting and savage behavior in Japan considering the magnitude of this catastrophe and the fact that you have 130 million Japanese crammed together in an area the size of California.
Think back to the aftermath of Katrina in New Orleans. All social order essentially broke down and looting, robbery, and killing became the norm. For weeks it was every man and woman for themselves and anything went. Naturally, the first rule of survival was to break into an appliance store and loot a big screen HD TV or some other appliance. How many scenes like that did you see from Japan?
I can tell you. None.
I lived and worked as a correspondent almost 10 years in Japan and I can tell you it is different from all other countries I reported from.
First, it remains a largely homogeneous society with minimal immigration. Thus Japanese society behaves like some vast bee hive where people live and work collaboratively while still competing with one another. They are governed by a highly developed system of behavior that dates back some 2,000 years.
Without going into great detail the way Japanese people behave is governed by three rather complex concepts:
1. Giri (義理), which denotes an “obligation, duty, justice” and an obligation to be ”faithful” and “conscientious”.
2. Tatemae (建前), which literally means "façade," is the behavior and opinions one displays in public. Tatemae is what is expected by society and required according to one's position and circumstances, and these may or may not match one's honne.
3. Honne (本音) refers to a person's true feelings and desires. These may be contrary to what is expected by society or what is required according to one's position and circumstances, and they are often kept hidden, except with one's closest friends.
Taken together, these are powerful forces on the individual to behave in an honorable way. The idea that there would be mass looting in Japan is simply anathema to Japanese culture. If you chose to behave outside of these norms then you are bringing shame on your name and your family. That is an unforgiveable sin in Japan.
Does that mean there is no violence in Japan or that murder, rape and other forms of assault never happen?
No.
Crime does occur in Japan, but in much less than in the United States and most other Western nations. The 1,097 murders in Japan last year were, according to statistics from the National Police Agency (NPA), down 200 from the previous year, a third of the number in 1954. This is out of a population of some 130 million, in the middle of the worst recession since the war.
This represents less than a tenth of the murder rate in the U.S., and a hundredth of that of the most violent countries in the Caribbean and South and Central America. Chicago, with a population of some 3 million, recorded 458 homicides--almost half of the murders in the entire nation of Japan with its 130 million people.
Some social scientists have concluded that in addition to the peculiarly Japanese concepts of Giri, Tatamae and Honne, another reason for the low murder rate is the nation's aging society. The number of people in their 20s — which is the peak age for murder — is falling, and with it, the murder rate is falling steadily, they say.
Of course, the U.S. and most of Western Europe are also aging societies with birth rates dropping sharply. Yet violent crime is still high compared with Japan.
In the late 1980s I wrote a story for the Chicago Tribune that discussed Japan's low crime rate. In it I discussed Japan's unique social structure and the importance it places on the individual to conform to the objectives and motivations of the larger group. In Japan much more importance is placed on conformity and social responsibility.
In the U.S. and most other Western Nations tremendous emphasis is placed on the individual. We encourage independent thought and place great value on individuality and uniqueness. In the U.S. it is often "all about me" to the detriment of others. We teach our children that they are more important than the whole. This "me, me, me" attitude continues into adolescence and adulthood and ironically has manifested itself into an inability of people to accept personal responsibility for their actions.
How often do we hear people say: "But it's not my fault," when, in fact, it is. Or maybe they are simply saying "The Devil made me do it." Avoiding personal responsibility has become a new American pastime. Look at the millions of people who took out low interest, sub-prime loans for houses they knew they couldn't afford. Then, when the housing market crashed and burned, they were left upside down in houses with mortgages much higher than the value of their property.
"It wasn't my fault," many said. "The banks made me do it."
Sigh.
In my story from Japan I used the example of a real event that occurred in Tokyo. A thief broke into the house of an aging pensioner. Holding a small knife he demanded the old man's money. The pensioner went to a small chest and pulled out the yen equivalent of about $100.
"That's all I have," the old man said.
The thief took the money, counted it and asked the pensioner how long it would be before he got his next check.
"About a week," he said.
"Here," the thief said. "This should be enough until then." He then returned half of the old man's money, bowed politely, and left.
In Japan, apparently, even thieves possess a sense of Giri, Tatamae and Honne.
Below are some recent crime statistics for selected countries and Japan. They are quite revealing.
Murders per 100,000:
1. Russian Federation 18.07
2. United States 6.32
3. Malaysia 2.73
4. Taiwan 1.17
5. Spain 1.08
6. Japan 0.58
Rape per 100,000:
1. United States 34.20
2. England and Wales 14.69
3. France 13.38
4. Taiwan 8.82
5. South Korea 4.38
6. Spain 3.23
7. Japan 1.48
Serious Assault per 100,000:
1. Australia 713.68
2. England & Wales 405.20
3. United States 357.94
4. Taiwan 37.30
5. Spain 23.94
6. Japan 15.40
Robbery/Violent Theft per 100,000:
1. Spain 169.85
2. United States 169.02
3. France 144.10
4. Taiwan 14.35
5. South Korea 11.74
6. Japan 2.71
In the U.S. we can't even win an NBA or NFL championship without violence breaking out. In Japan a devastating 9.0 earthquake, tsunami and threat of nuclear disaster has little impact on the fabric of Japanese society.
Go figure.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Can The Donald Win the White House in 2012?
One thing about Donald Trump. He is not afraid to speak his mind. Of course, if you have serious political ambitions (and he apparently does), saying what you REALLY believe can prove politically fatal.
Yet, the most current poll shows the New York real estate billionaire and reality show producer (The Celebrity Apprentice) in second place among Republicans--just behind former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney and neck and neck with former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee. So what does that tell us?
Does it mean that the American people are at last ready to hear someone who tells it like it is? Does it mean that there could be a fresh wind blowing through Washington's government palaces with their deceitful populations of prevaricating political eunuchs and concubines?
Or does it mean that we will see another H. Ross Perot emerge a la 1992 and then crash and burn as the campaign gets serious?
Somehow, I don't think the 64-year-old Trump is another H. Ross Perot. For one thing the things he says have the ring of truth to them.
Let's take a look at a few of his most recent comments:
"I hate what’s happening to this country," he told Newsmax recently. "I hate to see this country ripped off by every other smart nation — China, India, Mexico. You look at the jobs that are pouring into Mexico. We give them incentives to move people out of Iowa. Newton, Iowa, got destroyed by Mexico. They had incentives from this government and they built the plant in Mexico and it wiped out a town called Newton."
Trump said, if elected, he would not hire "diplomats to negotiate with the Red Chinese, because we’re dealing with people who truly are not only smart, they’re great natural negotiators. They’re not our friends. They’re looking to strip us of everything they can strip us of.
"This country is in serious trouble. It’s not going to be a great country for long. It may not be a great country now. This country has to be brought back. Go out and get the toughest, smartest guys, because that’s what you need if you’re going to beat China and other countries."
Trump is right about China. It is NOT our friend. China is out for itself and if we are not careful, it will own the United States. Who is propping up the dollar, buying our Treasury bills, etc? It is China. How long will that go on? Only as long as it benefits the Chinese--or perhaps until they own the Washington Monument.
"The federal government has no money," Trump said recently. "It’s being taken away between fighting wars and being the policeman for countries that in all fairness we shouldn’t have been in in the first place. I’m a very conservative person. I am the world’s greatest hawk. I am a very militant person. I’m a big believer in the military. But we should be rebuilding our own country.
"We go to Afghanistan, we build a road, we build a highway. We build a school at the end of the highway. The school gets blown up, the road gets blown up, and we’re starting all over again. Why aren’t we building roads in Alabama? Why aren’t we building roads in New Jersey coming into Manhattan? You come into Manhattan on roads that look like we’re a Third World country. And you think they’re going to have democracy [in Afghanistan]? I don’t think so. We’ve totally defanged Iraq. As soon as we leave, Iran will come in and take over the oil of Iraq. And frankly, I think if somebody’s going to take over the oil in Iraq, maybe it should be us.
"I would like to rebuild the United States. I go to Abu Dhabi, I go to Qatar and other places. You go to China and they have airports that are so unbelievable, that they are building with our money. China is rebuilding itself. We are rebuilding China. Then you come into Kennedy International Airport and it’s obsolete. It’s a Third World airport. We have to rebuild our self."
The fact is China and OPEC are destroying the U.S economy. While everybody talks about an open and free global economy, that is not the case when it comes to China and many of our other so-called "friends." These countries manipulate their currencies to keep their goods priced low. They also erect barriers to American products or make it difficult for American firms to do business within their borders.
Trump's idea is to place a 25 percent tax on Chinese goods if it continues to manipulate its currency. He also said the United States needs to get much tougher with OPEC. Amen to that!
Yet many Americans fear that getting tougher with China, OPEC and other nations who have policies harmful to the U.S. economy could ultimately be bad for the U.S.
Trump is not convinced. "Our weak president that kisses everybody's ass is in more wars than I've ever seen," Trump said recently. "He's in Libya. He's in Afghanistan. He's in Iraq. Nobody respects us … Can I do worse?"
I don't think so.
Then there is the fact that Trump has the money needed to run a presidential campaign--which is estimated to cost about $600 million. When asked recently if he had that kind of money to spend he responded:
"Much more than that. That's one of the nice things. I mean, part of the beauty of me is that I'm very rich. So if I need $600 million, I could put up $600 million myself. That's a huge advantage."
Trump's net worth is $2.7 billion, making him the 137th richest person in the U.S., according to Forbes magazine. President Obama raised nearly $750 million in 2008, according to the nonpartisan Center for Responsive Politics. So, if it comes down to money, there is little doubt that Trump could hold his own against Obama.
The biggest question is whether or not Trump will get the Republican nomination. That would be a stretch. He is not a Republican insider, he has no political track record and he is considered a loose cannon by Republican leaders like Karl Rove, former Deputy Chief of Staff and Senior Advisor to President George W. Bush.
The other question is whether or not Trump would run as an independent candidate if he did not get the Republican nod.
H. Ross Perot tried that and all he did was take votes away from President Bush senior. If that is what Trump has in mind, then I suspect the Democrats are already licking their chops.
I think Trump is more politically savvy than that, however. If he doesn't get the Republican nomination then perhaps which ever Republican candidate wins the White House will do the smart thing and send The Donald to China as our ambassador.
Now THAT would be reality show I would pay to see!
Yet, the most current poll shows the New York real estate billionaire and reality show producer (The Celebrity Apprentice) in second place among Republicans--just behind former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney and neck and neck with former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee. So what does that tell us?
Does it mean that the American people are at last ready to hear someone who tells it like it is? Does it mean that there could be a fresh wind blowing through Washington's government palaces with their deceitful populations of prevaricating political eunuchs and concubines?
Or does it mean that we will see another H. Ross Perot emerge a la 1992 and then crash and burn as the campaign gets serious?
Somehow, I don't think the 64-year-old Trump is another H. Ross Perot. For one thing the things he says have the ring of truth to them.
Let's take a look at a few of his most recent comments:
"I hate what’s happening to this country," he told Newsmax recently. "I hate to see this country ripped off by every other smart nation — China, India, Mexico. You look at the jobs that are pouring into Mexico. We give them incentives to move people out of Iowa. Newton, Iowa, got destroyed by Mexico. They had incentives from this government and they built the plant in Mexico and it wiped out a town called Newton."
Trump said, if elected, he would not hire "diplomats to negotiate with the Red Chinese, because we’re dealing with people who truly are not only smart, they’re great natural negotiators. They’re not our friends. They’re looking to strip us of everything they can strip us of.
"This country is in serious trouble. It’s not going to be a great country for long. It may not be a great country now. This country has to be brought back. Go out and get the toughest, smartest guys, because that’s what you need if you’re going to beat China and other countries."
Trump is right about China. It is NOT our friend. China is out for itself and if we are not careful, it will own the United States. Who is propping up the dollar, buying our Treasury bills, etc? It is China. How long will that go on? Only as long as it benefits the Chinese--or perhaps until they own the Washington Monument.
"The federal government has no money," Trump said recently. "It’s being taken away between fighting wars and being the policeman for countries that in all fairness we shouldn’t have been in in the first place. I’m a very conservative person. I am the world’s greatest hawk. I am a very militant person. I’m a big believer in the military. But we should be rebuilding our own country.
"We go to Afghanistan, we build a road, we build a highway. We build a school at the end of the highway. The school gets blown up, the road gets blown up, and we’re starting all over again. Why aren’t we building roads in Alabama? Why aren’t we building roads in New Jersey coming into Manhattan? You come into Manhattan on roads that look like we’re a Third World country. And you think they’re going to have democracy [in Afghanistan]? I don’t think so. We’ve totally defanged Iraq. As soon as we leave, Iran will come in and take over the oil of Iraq. And frankly, I think if somebody’s going to take over the oil in Iraq, maybe it should be us.
"I would like to rebuild the United States. I go to Abu Dhabi, I go to Qatar and other places. You go to China and they have airports that are so unbelievable, that they are building with our money. China is rebuilding itself. We are rebuilding China. Then you come into Kennedy International Airport and it’s obsolete. It’s a Third World airport. We have to rebuild our self."
The fact is China and OPEC are destroying the U.S economy. While everybody talks about an open and free global economy, that is not the case when it comes to China and many of our other so-called "friends." These countries manipulate their currencies to keep their goods priced low. They also erect barriers to American products or make it difficult for American firms to do business within their borders.
Trump's idea is to place a 25 percent tax on Chinese goods if it continues to manipulate its currency. He also said the United States needs to get much tougher with OPEC. Amen to that!
Yet many Americans fear that getting tougher with China, OPEC and other nations who have policies harmful to the U.S. economy could ultimately be bad for the U.S.
Trump is not convinced. "Our weak president that kisses everybody's ass is in more wars than I've ever seen," Trump said recently. "He's in Libya. He's in Afghanistan. He's in Iraq. Nobody respects us … Can I do worse?"
I don't think so.
Then there is the fact that Trump has the money needed to run a presidential campaign--which is estimated to cost about $600 million. When asked recently if he had that kind of money to spend he responded:
"Much more than that. That's one of the nice things. I mean, part of the beauty of me is that I'm very rich. So if I need $600 million, I could put up $600 million myself. That's a huge advantage."
Trump's net worth is $2.7 billion, making him the 137th richest person in the U.S., according to Forbes magazine. President Obama raised nearly $750 million in 2008, according to the nonpartisan Center for Responsive Politics. So, if it comes down to money, there is little doubt that Trump could hold his own against Obama.
The biggest question is whether or not Trump will get the Republican nomination. That would be a stretch. He is not a Republican insider, he has no political track record and he is considered a loose cannon by Republican leaders like Karl Rove, former Deputy Chief of Staff and Senior Advisor to President George W. Bush.
The other question is whether or not Trump would run as an independent candidate if he did not get the Republican nod.
H. Ross Perot tried that and all he did was take votes away from President Bush senior. If that is what Trump has in mind, then I suspect the Democrats are already licking their chops.
I think Trump is more politically savvy than that, however. If he doesn't get the Republican nomination then perhaps which ever Republican candidate wins the White House will do the smart thing and send The Donald to China as our ambassador.
Now THAT would be reality show I would pay to see!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The Eclipse of American Power
When I think of America's failed financial policies, its weak political leadership and its feeble foreign policy I am reminded of an interesting Thai phrase: "Maa du khreuang bin tok." Translated it means “A dog watching an airplane crash.” The phrase describes an event that is totally beyond the spectator's comprehension.
I believe we are witnessing an historic eclipse of American power in the world. It has been ongoing for at least three decades, but it has accelerated dramatically in just the past couple of years. One might argue that the decline of U.S. power began with the nation's ignominious withdrawal from Vietnam back in 1975--an event that I personally witnessed and experienced.
For all of our military might--and it is considerable--America often seems like some helpless leviathan. Now, with the country teetering on the brink of economic collapse, we are at the mercy of those who would love to see the U.S. crash and burn.
Think about it. Do you seriously believe that China cares a whit about the U.S. economy? Or than Muslim nations such as Pakistan feel any allegiance to Washington's political will?
No amount of American pressure or veiled threats could persuade the Chinese government to revalue its currency, nor induce the Pakistani government to cut links between its intelligence services and the Taliban.
The same goes for many other nations--all of which have eagerly accepted billions and billions of dollars in American aid, loans, and other economic entitlements. Do these nations need to be forever grateful for American (read U.S. taxpayer) largess? No, but given the kind of assistance they have received it is less than gracious for them to thumb their noses at Washington.
The sarcastic words of Prince Schwarzenberg of Austria come to mind. After the Russians had helped Austria suppress the Hungarian uprising in 1849 he said: “They will be astonished by our ingratitude.”
But wait. Why not thumb their noses at Washington? After all, what can the mice that are currently in charge of the American machinery of government do?
We are becoming a nation of political wimps who are guided more by political correctness than correct political foreign policy. The idea that we can be everybody's friend is a joke in a world where alliances are only important when they serve a nation's economic and political self-interest. Does anybody really think that the imams and sheiks of the Middle East have any real affection for America? The same goes for nations like China, India and our closest neighbors--Canada and Mexico.
From one side of the world to the other, countries are doing what they think best for themselves, rather than what the White House, the State Department or the Pentagon think they should do.
I have traveled and worked in some 65 countries during my career as a foreign correspondent and I can tell you that many of our so-called "friends" around the world would just as soon see us fail as succeed. Some would like to see the U.S. on its knees--the once all-powerful giant humbled by a world of jealous Davids.
Americans in general and our leaders in Washington in particular are seen as arrogant, uninformed, greedy bullies who deserve a comeuppance. And now we are getting it.
In his book, “The Much Too Promised Land,” Aaron David Mille tells of his years as a State Department official engaged in what is forlornly called the peace process. In his book he writes that in the Middle East today the United States finds itself “trapped in a region which it cannot fix and it cannot abandon,” where America is “not liked, not feared, and not respected.”
Meanwhile, America's largely uninformed populace continues blithely on, concerned more about who becomes the next American Idol or what overpaid egomaniac wins the Oscar, than how their lives are inextricably tied to nations like China that are propping up our ever- deteriorating economy.
These same nations are also witnessing the deterioration of America's once-envied culture and values. Is it any wonder that Muslims the world over despise a nation that has become narcissistic and hedonistic while growing more and more obsessed with sex, fame, wealth what passes these days as music.
Once, while traveling in Pakistan I was asked by a Muslim cleric why America allows women to be degraded, why it no longer esteems marriage and family and why it lavishes praise and wealth on entertainers, athletes and others who contribute little or nothing to society while showing nominal appreciation for teachers who are charged with providing an education for the nation's young.
I replied that I thought that characterization was a bit harsh. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if the cleric didn't have a point.
We seem to value the wrong things in America. Ask any teenager to identify 10 of the nation's top rap artists or pop singers and they will do it in a flash. Ask them to identify 10 world leaders and they will stop at one or two--if that many. Some don't even know who their vice president is and perhaps 1 in 1000 will know the names of one of the two senators representing their state in Congress.
But it is not just American teenagers who would fail that test. Foreign policy is a non-starter for most Americans, who appear to be more parochial and inward-looking than ever before. This at a time when the global real-politick is as critical to understand as it has ever been.
And who is at fault? The media? Yes, most certainly. But not entirely. True, today's media is more focused on knee-jerk reporting of events such as what just happened in Egypt than being in a position to explain them with depth and intelligence. It is expensive to cover the world and in an era when traditional media are retrenching financially gone are the days when the Chicago Tribune, my old newspaper, will have 15-20 reporters living around the world. Instead, as with many news organizations, they will parachute journalists in for a few hours or days and it's on to the next crisis.
Much of the fault lies in Washington where it behooves the nabobs to keep global politics arcane and nearly incomprehensible to the great unwashed.
At the outset of World War II a senator was asked how the public should be informed of the progress of the war.
"We shouldn't provide any information at all except to say who won when the war is over," he said.
I suspect too many in our State Department and Department of Defense feel the same way, not to mention the White House and Congress.
Strong leadership is needed as the U.S. deals with a strange new world--one where Washington is finding it harder than ever to impose its will on anyone anywhere and where the eclipse of American power is manifest.
Perhaps that is not a bad thing. Heaven knows that when we have tried to impose our will on other nations the results have been mixed.
However, without a strong president in 2012 I fear that all of us will be helplessly and incomprehensively watching the political, economic and moral collapse of a once great country.
I believe we are witnessing an historic eclipse of American power in the world. It has been ongoing for at least three decades, but it has accelerated dramatically in just the past couple of years. One might argue that the decline of U.S. power began with the nation's ignominious withdrawal from Vietnam back in 1975--an event that I personally witnessed and experienced.
For all of our military might--and it is considerable--America often seems like some helpless leviathan. Now, with the country teetering on the brink of economic collapse, we are at the mercy of those who would love to see the U.S. crash and burn.
Think about it. Do you seriously believe that China cares a whit about the U.S. economy? Or than Muslim nations such as Pakistan feel any allegiance to Washington's political will?
No amount of American pressure or veiled threats could persuade the Chinese government to revalue its currency, nor induce the Pakistani government to cut links between its intelligence services and the Taliban.
The same goes for many other nations--all of which have eagerly accepted billions and billions of dollars in American aid, loans, and other economic entitlements. Do these nations need to be forever grateful for American (read U.S. taxpayer) largess? No, but given the kind of assistance they have received it is less than gracious for them to thumb their noses at Washington.
The sarcastic words of Prince Schwarzenberg of Austria come to mind. After the Russians had helped Austria suppress the Hungarian uprising in 1849 he said: “They will be astonished by our ingratitude.”
But wait. Why not thumb their noses at Washington? After all, what can the mice that are currently in charge of the American machinery of government do?
We are becoming a nation of political wimps who are guided more by political correctness than correct political foreign policy. The idea that we can be everybody's friend is a joke in a world where alliances are only important when they serve a nation's economic and political self-interest. Does anybody really think that the imams and sheiks of the Middle East have any real affection for America? The same goes for nations like China, India and our closest neighbors--Canada and Mexico.
From one side of the world to the other, countries are doing what they think best for themselves, rather than what the White House, the State Department or the Pentagon think they should do.
I have traveled and worked in some 65 countries during my career as a foreign correspondent and I can tell you that many of our so-called "friends" around the world would just as soon see us fail as succeed. Some would like to see the U.S. on its knees--the once all-powerful giant humbled by a world of jealous Davids.
Americans in general and our leaders in Washington in particular are seen as arrogant, uninformed, greedy bullies who deserve a comeuppance. And now we are getting it.
In his book, “The Much Too Promised Land,” Aaron David Mille tells of his years as a State Department official engaged in what is forlornly called the peace process. In his book he writes that in the Middle East today the United States finds itself “trapped in a region which it cannot fix and it cannot abandon,” where America is “not liked, not feared, and not respected.”
Meanwhile, America's largely uninformed populace continues blithely on, concerned more about who becomes the next American Idol or what overpaid egomaniac wins the Oscar, than how their lives are inextricably tied to nations like China that are propping up our ever- deteriorating economy.
These same nations are also witnessing the deterioration of America's once-envied culture and values. Is it any wonder that Muslims the world over despise a nation that has become narcissistic and hedonistic while growing more and more obsessed with sex, fame, wealth what passes these days as music.
Once, while traveling in Pakistan I was asked by a Muslim cleric why America allows women to be degraded, why it no longer esteems marriage and family and why it lavishes praise and wealth on entertainers, athletes and others who contribute little or nothing to society while showing nominal appreciation for teachers who are charged with providing an education for the nation's young.
I replied that I thought that characterization was a bit harsh. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if the cleric didn't have a point.
We seem to value the wrong things in America. Ask any teenager to identify 10 of the nation's top rap artists or pop singers and they will do it in a flash. Ask them to identify 10 world leaders and they will stop at one or two--if that many. Some don't even know who their vice president is and perhaps 1 in 1000 will know the names of one of the two senators representing their state in Congress.
But it is not just American teenagers who would fail that test. Foreign policy is a non-starter for most Americans, who appear to be more parochial and inward-looking than ever before. This at a time when the global real-politick is as critical to understand as it has ever been.
And who is at fault? The media? Yes, most certainly. But not entirely. True, today's media is more focused on knee-jerk reporting of events such as what just happened in Egypt than being in a position to explain them with depth and intelligence. It is expensive to cover the world and in an era when traditional media are retrenching financially gone are the days when the Chicago Tribune, my old newspaper, will have 15-20 reporters living around the world. Instead, as with many news organizations, they will parachute journalists in for a few hours or days and it's on to the next crisis.
Much of the fault lies in Washington where it behooves the nabobs to keep global politics arcane and nearly incomprehensible to the great unwashed.
At the outset of World War II a senator was asked how the public should be informed of the progress of the war.
"We shouldn't provide any information at all except to say who won when the war is over," he said.
I suspect too many in our State Department and Department of Defense feel the same way, not to mention the White House and Congress.
Strong leadership is needed as the U.S. deals with a strange new world--one where Washington is finding it harder than ever to impose its will on anyone anywhere and where the eclipse of American power is manifest.
Perhaps that is not a bad thing. Heaven knows that when we have tried to impose our will on other nations the results have been mixed.
However, without a strong president in 2012 I fear that all of us will be helplessly and incomprehensively watching the political, economic and moral collapse of a once great country.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
i-Pads, "The Daily" and Journalism
I am no Luddite, so when Rupert Murdoch's News Corp. launched its long-awaited i-Pad-based newspaper, "The Daily" Wednesday I was intrigued.
By the way, a Luddite, according to Wikipedia, comes from a social movement of British textile artisans in the 19th Century who were opposed to and often destroyed mechanized looms. They were led by a man named Ned Ludd. So there you have a little trivia for today.
Far be it for me to oppose mechanized looms or new ways of delivering the news. Any time the public reads--be it a real paper newspaper or an electronic version I am a happy camper. For one thing it has been proven over and over again that when you read something as opposed to viewing it on a TV screen or listening to it on the radio, you retain more of the content correctly and longer.
So as a journalist I am happy to see journalism embrace new technologies for gathering and delivering the news.
My only concern has to do with the quality of that journalism.
Will News Corp., for example, expend the resources necessary to practice superior journalism and thus produce accurate and trustworthy news via The Daily? Or will it simply harvest information from other sources (what we used to call wire service "rip and read" in the days of the telex machine) and pass it along to unsuspecting "news consumers?"
Let's not forget that those who buy news products are consumers, after all. And the Daily will cost subscribers who download it to their i-Pads 99 cents a week or $39.99 a year--which they can charge to the their iTunes accounts. That is actually not a bad deal. Right now I pay $212 a year for my subscription to USA Today--which does include an e-version of the paper that I can read on my computer.
In that respect, I guess I am a bit of a Luddite. I simply hate reading news on a computer screen. I grew up reading a newspaper. My parents took two of them and we used to spread them out all over the living room floor on Sundays. It was the way life was back in the pre-App Stone Age.
The Daily will apparently provide news from bureaus in New York and Los Angeles as well as via a network of freelance stringers (that's journalese for "contributors"). It's that latter part that I worry about.
Freelancers are fine when they supplement a paid staff of professionals. But when they provide 80 or 90 percent of the news along with wire services, etc. then what you essentially have is a neat low-overhead money-making scheme.
As a former foreign correspondent, national correspondent and editor for the Chicago Tribune I can tell you it costs a lot of money to cover a community, a state and the world. We are talking millions of dollars to pay the salaries of skilled and experienced reporters, editors, producers, writers, etc. And the operative words here are "skilled" and "experienced."
There is no substitute for skillful reporting by journalists who have accumulated the kind of professional savvy necessary to produce an accurate and reliable news product day after day. Even then, errors are made--often because the crush of time in a 24-hour news cycle makes in depth investigation difficult if not impossible.
As The Daily was being launched Editor-in-Chief Jesse Angelo declined to say how much of a commitment the publication will make to investigative journalism.
“Read the product every day, and you’ll find out,” he said at a press conference in New York.
That is hardly reassuring.
More revealing is what Rupert Murdoch had to say. Ever the consummate news tycoon, he said that the costs associated with The Daily are "very low," which will allow it to become profitable very quickly.
Somehow those statements don't augur for the kind of in-depth, expensive journalism often provided by traditional news organizations. But then perhaps that is not the kind of journalism the 15 million people who currently tote i-Pads care about.
At Wednesday's launch it was explained that The Daily will publish up to 100 pages of news, gossip, sports, and celebrity opinion (whatever that is). Just what I need: another Hollywood starlet or star spouting off about the conflict in the Middle East or the nuclear non-proliferation treaty.
If that is what The Daily considers good journalism, then leave me out. If it plans to produce a portable version of television's "The View" with its insufferable ensemble of ill-informed magpies pontificating about the day's events then I will opt out, thank you.
If, however, The Daily actually decides to produce original content provided by knowledgeable, professional reporters then I will be the first to spring for an i-Pad and a subscription.
"The i-Pad demands that we completely re-imagine our craft," Murdoch said at Wednesday's launch.
Re-imagining is fine--as long as the content is truthful, accurate and reliable and doesn't come from someone's imagination. Frankly, I hope it succeeds. Journalism is changing, adopting and adapting new delivery platforms almost constantly. In that respect, change is good.
What must remain constant and consistent, however, are the classic fundamentals of good journalism. No matter what technology is employed in delivering the news, there is no substitute for responsible, accurate, fair and unbiased information.
So for now, I am in a holding pattern regarding The Daily. And I am not holding my breath.
By the way, a Luddite, according to Wikipedia, comes from a social movement of British textile artisans in the 19th Century who were opposed to and often destroyed mechanized looms. They were led by a man named Ned Ludd. So there you have a little trivia for today.
Far be it for me to oppose mechanized looms or new ways of delivering the news. Any time the public reads--be it a real paper newspaper or an electronic version I am a happy camper. For one thing it has been proven over and over again that when you read something as opposed to viewing it on a TV screen or listening to it on the radio, you retain more of the content correctly and longer.
So as a journalist I am happy to see journalism embrace new technologies for gathering and delivering the news.
My only concern has to do with the quality of that journalism.
Will News Corp., for example, expend the resources necessary to practice superior journalism and thus produce accurate and trustworthy news via The Daily? Or will it simply harvest information from other sources (what we used to call wire service "rip and read" in the days of the telex machine) and pass it along to unsuspecting "news consumers?"
Let's not forget that those who buy news products are consumers, after all. And the Daily will cost subscribers who download it to their i-Pads 99 cents a week or $39.99 a year--which they can charge to the their iTunes accounts. That is actually not a bad deal. Right now I pay $212 a year for my subscription to USA Today--which does include an e-version of the paper that I can read on my computer.
In that respect, I guess I am a bit of a Luddite. I simply hate reading news on a computer screen. I grew up reading a newspaper. My parents took two of them and we used to spread them out all over the living room floor on Sundays. It was the way life was back in the pre-App Stone Age.
The Daily will apparently provide news from bureaus in New York and Los Angeles as well as via a network of freelance stringers (that's journalese for "contributors"). It's that latter part that I worry about.
Freelancers are fine when they supplement a paid staff of professionals. But when they provide 80 or 90 percent of the news along with wire services, etc. then what you essentially have is a neat low-overhead money-making scheme.
As a former foreign correspondent, national correspondent and editor for the Chicago Tribune I can tell you it costs a lot of money to cover a community, a state and the world. We are talking millions of dollars to pay the salaries of skilled and experienced reporters, editors, producers, writers, etc. And the operative words here are "skilled" and "experienced."
There is no substitute for skillful reporting by journalists who have accumulated the kind of professional savvy necessary to produce an accurate and reliable news product day after day. Even then, errors are made--often because the crush of time in a 24-hour news cycle makes in depth investigation difficult if not impossible.
As The Daily was being launched Editor-in-Chief Jesse Angelo declined to say how much of a commitment the publication will make to investigative journalism.
“Read the product every day, and you’ll find out,” he said at a press conference in New York.
That is hardly reassuring.
More revealing is what Rupert Murdoch had to say. Ever the consummate news tycoon, he said that the costs associated with The Daily are "very low," which will allow it to become profitable very quickly.
Somehow those statements don't augur for the kind of in-depth, expensive journalism often provided by traditional news organizations. But then perhaps that is not the kind of journalism the 15 million people who currently tote i-Pads care about.
At Wednesday's launch it was explained that The Daily will publish up to 100 pages of news, gossip, sports, and celebrity opinion (whatever that is). Just what I need: another Hollywood starlet or star spouting off about the conflict in the Middle East or the nuclear non-proliferation treaty.
If that is what The Daily considers good journalism, then leave me out. If it plans to produce a portable version of television's "The View" with its insufferable ensemble of ill-informed magpies pontificating about the day's events then I will opt out, thank you.
If, however, The Daily actually decides to produce original content provided by knowledgeable, professional reporters then I will be the first to spring for an i-Pad and a subscription.
"The i-Pad demands that we completely re-imagine our craft," Murdoch said at Wednesday's launch.
Re-imagining is fine--as long as the content is truthful, accurate and reliable and doesn't come from someone's imagination. Frankly, I hope it succeeds. Journalism is changing, adopting and adapting new delivery platforms almost constantly. In that respect, change is good.
What must remain constant and consistent, however, are the classic fundamentals of good journalism. No matter what technology is employed in delivering the news, there is no substitute for responsible, accurate, fair and unbiased information.
So for now, I am in a holding pattern regarding The Daily. And I am not holding my breath.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Curbing Free Speech Not the Answer to Political Violence
The knee-jerk reaction, primarily on the left side of the political spectrum, to the tragic shootings in Arizona over the weekend was predictable. It is also wrong-headed.
Curbing free speech, whether from the left or the right will not stop deranged people such as 22-year-old Jared Lee Loughner, the man now in police custody for killing six people and wounding Rep. Gabrielle Giffords and 14 others in Tucson.
Nevertheless, there are those who are convinced that muzzling talk radio hosts, television commentators and those who write angry letters to the editor, is the answer.
The fact is when you read between the lines of the outrage concerning political discourse what you find is this: as long as the discourse is in agreement with your beliefs, your political agenda and your view of the world, then it is OK.
But if it is in opposition to what you believe, then by all means, it must be curbed.
That is not the way the First Amendment works.
Even the American Civil Liberties Union, which is about as left-wing as you can get in this country, insists there is no such thing as "hate speech." There is, says the ACLU, only "free speech."
Here is what the ACLU says about what it calls "hateful speech:"
"The ACLU has often been at the center of controversy for defending the free speech rights of groups that spew hate, such as the Ku Klux Klan and the Nazis. But if only popular ideas were protected, we wouldn't need a First Amendment. History teaches that the first target of government repression is never the last. If we do not come to the defense of the free speech rights of the most unpopular among us, even if their views are antithetical to the very freedom the First Amendment stands for, then no one's liberty will be secure. In that sense, all First Amendment rights are "indivisible."
"Censoring so-called hate speech also runs counter to the long-term interests of the most frequent victims of hate: racial, ethnic, religious and sexual minorities. We should not give the government the power to decide which opinions are hateful, for history has taught us that government is more apt to use this power to prosecute minorities than to protect them. As one federal judge has put it, tolerating hateful speech is "the best protection we have against any Nazi-type regime in this country."
Yet, in the wake of the Arizona shootings, it is the left that is on the warpath, demanding that something be done to curb the very freedom of expression the ACLU works to protect.
Rep. Robert Brady, (D-Pa.), announced this weekend that he planned to introduce legislation that would make it a federal crime for someone to use language or imagery that might be construed as threatening violence against members of Congress or federal officials.
"The rhetoric is just ramped up so negatively, so high that we have got to shut this down," Brady said in an interview on CNN, adding: "This is not a wake-up call; this is major alarms going off."
Other lawmakers also lashed out at an overheated political climate, arguing, like Brady, that it has helped create an environment ripe for the shooting.
"We're living in a time that all of us should begin to take stock of how our words affect people," Rep. James Clyburn, D-S.C., said on "Fox News Sunday", "especially those who aren't very stable."
What those two politicians are suggesting is a very slippery slope. Once you give the government the power to police what you can say, where you can say it and how you say it, you have given away your greatest freedom. Think about Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan of the 1930s and 1940s. Both of those nations created agencies that did nothing more than watch and listen to what people said--little more than thought police.
The idea that what Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck or Bill O"Reilly say on their radio and TV shows somehow creates a "climate of hate" in America is ludicrous.
The same goes for those on the other side of the political spectrum such as Moveon.Org, Media Matters, etc. What they say is just as anathema to conservatives as what Beck or Limbaugh say about liberals. Both are part of the political discourse and that is a healthy thing.
To blame former Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin or the Tea Party for what happened last weekend because both targeted districts and states where Democrats needed to be defeated by Republicans in the recent election is an absurd leap from the precipice of rational thought.
By the same token to assume that what talk show hosts say or what is on Sarah Palin's website could have been responsible for Loughner's action is to stretch credibility to the breaking point.
Jenny Beth Martin, co-founder of the Tea Party Patriots, also took issue with the notion that Loughner's actions had anything to do with the political climate that has recently been shaped in no small part by vocal members of groups like hers.
"I don't see how expressing your anger and frustration with government in a peaceful manner can be blamed for lone actions of one mentally disturbed person," Martin told ABC News. "Expressing your frustration and asking your elected officials to represent you the way you want to be represented is a far cry from violence."
The best remedy for hate speech is more free speech. By allowing discourse to move ahead it keeps things in the open. To stop talk show hosts from talking or opposing political views from being expressed we are only insuring that the discourse goes underground where, devoid of the light of day, it will grow into a dangerous malignancy.
That is not what the constitutional framers had in mind when they adopted the First Amendment in 1791.
That critical Constitutional amendment is as brilliant in its brevity as it is in its scope:
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."
Congress should heed those words and not attempt to re-construe their meaning.
Curbing free speech, whether from the left or the right will not stop deranged people such as 22-year-old Jared Lee Loughner, the man now in police custody for killing six people and wounding Rep. Gabrielle Giffords and 14 others in Tucson.
Nevertheless, there are those who are convinced that muzzling talk radio hosts, television commentators and those who write angry letters to the editor, is the answer.
The fact is when you read between the lines of the outrage concerning political discourse what you find is this: as long as the discourse is in agreement with your beliefs, your political agenda and your view of the world, then it is OK.
But if it is in opposition to what you believe, then by all means, it must be curbed.
That is not the way the First Amendment works.
Even the American Civil Liberties Union, which is about as left-wing as you can get in this country, insists there is no such thing as "hate speech." There is, says the ACLU, only "free speech."
Here is what the ACLU says about what it calls "hateful speech:"
"The ACLU has often been at the center of controversy for defending the free speech rights of groups that spew hate, such as the Ku Klux Klan and the Nazis. But if only popular ideas were protected, we wouldn't need a First Amendment. History teaches that the first target of government repression is never the last. If we do not come to the defense of the free speech rights of the most unpopular among us, even if their views are antithetical to the very freedom the First Amendment stands for, then no one's liberty will be secure. In that sense, all First Amendment rights are "indivisible."
"Censoring so-called hate speech also runs counter to the long-term interests of the most frequent victims of hate: racial, ethnic, religious and sexual minorities. We should not give the government the power to decide which opinions are hateful, for history has taught us that government is more apt to use this power to prosecute minorities than to protect them. As one federal judge has put it, tolerating hateful speech is "the best protection we have against any Nazi-type regime in this country."
Yet, in the wake of the Arizona shootings, it is the left that is on the warpath, demanding that something be done to curb the very freedom of expression the ACLU works to protect.
Rep. Robert Brady, (D-Pa.), announced this weekend that he planned to introduce legislation that would make it a federal crime for someone to use language or imagery that might be construed as threatening violence against members of Congress or federal officials.
"The rhetoric is just ramped up so negatively, so high that we have got to shut this down," Brady said in an interview on CNN, adding: "This is not a wake-up call; this is major alarms going off."
Other lawmakers also lashed out at an overheated political climate, arguing, like Brady, that it has helped create an environment ripe for the shooting.
"We're living in a time that all of us should begin to take stock of how our words affect people," Rep. James Clyburn, D-S.C., said on "Fox News Sunday", "especially those who aren't very stable."
What those two politicians are suggesting is a very slippery slope. Once you give the government the power to police what you can say, where you can say it and how you say it, you have given away your greatest freedom. Think about Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan of the 1930s and 1940s. Both of those nations created agencies that did nothing more than watch and listen to what people said--little more than thought police.
The idea that what Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck or Bill O"Reilly say on their radio and TV shows somehow creates a "climate of hate" in America is ludicrous.
The same goes for those on the other side of the political spectrum such as Moveon.Org, Media Matters, etc. What they say is just as anathema to conservatives as what Beck or Limbaugh say about liberals. Both are part of the political discourse and that is a healthy thing.
To blame former Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin or the Tea Party for what happened last weekend because both targeted districts and states where Democrats needed to be defeated by Republicans in the recent election is an absurd leap from the precipice of rational thought.
By the same token to assume that what talk show hosts say or what is on Sarah Palin's website could have been responsible for Loughner's action is to stretch credibility to the breaking point.
Jenny Beth Martin, co-founder of the Tea Party Patriots, also took issue with the notion that Loughner's actions had anything to do with the political climate that has recently been shaped in no small part by vocal members of groups like hers.
"I don't see how expressing your anger and frustration with government in a peaceful manner can be blamed for lone actions of one mentally disturbed person," Martin told ABC News. "Expressing your frustration and asking your elected officials to represent you the way you want to be represented is a far cry from violence."
The best remedy for hate speech is more free speech. By allowing discourse to move ahead it keeps things in the open. To stop talk show hosts from talking or opposing political views from being expressed we are only insuring that the discourse goes underground where, devoid of the light of day, it will grow into a dangerous malignancy.
That is not what the constitutional framers had in mind when they adopted the First Amendment in 1791.
That critical Constitutional amendment is as brilliant in its brevity as it is in its scope:
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."
Congress should heed those words and not attempt to re-construe their meaning.
Friday, January 7, 2011
A Forgotten Ally Dies
Few, if any Americans today know who Vang Pao was. That is a shame, because America probably had no greater ally during the Vietnam War than the Napoleon-sized Vang Pao.
Vang Pao, who died in Clovis, California Thursday, was the leader of the CIA's so-called "Secret Army" in Laos--a force of some 100,000 Hmong (pronounced "Mung") guerillas that between 1960 and 1975 kept four crack Vietnamese divisions tied down in the Laotian Highlands north of the Plain of Jars and off the backs of American troops fighting in Vietnam.
The cost of the Hmong's 15-year alliance with America was heavy. More than 30,000 out of a population of 350,000 were killed. An equivalent casualty rate in the United States would be a war in which 20 million Americans died.
Even though the alliance officially ended in 1975 when the last Americans were ignominiously run out of Saigon by advancing North Vietnamese troops, the Hmong continued to die because of their once close association with Washington.
At the time of my visit to the Hmong refugee camps during my tenure as a foreign correspondent for the Chicago Tribune I learned from Hmong survivors that the Laotian hill people were being systematically exterminated by both the North Vietnamese and the Communist Pathet Lao government.
General Vang Pao and a force of 18,000 Hmong fighters were finally forced from Laos in May 1975 by a vastly superior force of North Vietnamese troops fresh from victory in Vietnam. It was a humiliating defeat for the proud Hmong people made even worse by Washington's almost total disregard for their once important allies.
There was little doubt that Vang Pao was still feeling a sense of betrayal when I met and interviewed him, though he never expressed those feelings openly. The Hmong people I met in Northern Thailand did, however. They were angry and frustrated by the cold shoulder they received from Washington after the fall of Saigon.
I first met Vang Pao in 1979 in, of all places, Corvallis, Montana. I had just returned from Northern Thailand and several of the squalid Hmong refugee camps along the Mekong River separating Thailand from Laos.
General V.P., as he was known by his followers, took me on a tour of a 425-acre barley farm he owned some 45 miles south of Missoula. He climbed behind the wheel of a battered olive-green Chevrolet Malibu and the two of us headed off down a dirt road.
At one point he stopped the car and his hard black eyes stared at the pine covered Bitterroot Mountain before us. I had asked him why he decided to settle in Montana with his large family. At the time he had 23 children, ranging in age from 32 to 3, as well as several dozen assorted aunts, uncles and in-laws, cousins and other followers.
"It reminds me of back home," he said.
"Back home" is a place called Long Chieng, a picturesque valley settlement on the Plain of Jars in Laos.
Vang Pao, at the time 49, then maneuvered the Chevy around a curve and through a shallow ford. Along the roads and in the fields men, women and children worked or fished in one of the glassy streams that flowed through the farm.
"My neighbors are very friendly," Vang Pao told me. "But most of them know little about Laos or what went on there during the war."
Nothing has changed. Americans are just as ignorant of our Hmong allies today as they were then.
So here's a little history lesson. In 1961 Vang Pao, who had earned a reputation as a fierce guerilla fighter against the Japanese during WW II, was recruited by the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency to lead a secret army of Laotian Hill tribesmen against Laotian Communists and their North Vietnamese masters. The North Vietnamese were using routes through Laos to supply Communist troops in South Vietnam.
During a top secret briefing I had in the late 1970s with an American military attaché in Bangkok I was told just how valued Vang Pao and his Hmong fighters were to Washington and the U.S. military during the war.
"Of all the field commanders who fought the North Vietnamese, and that includes Americans, not one can come close to Gen V.P. in victories," the military attaché told me. "And only a handful of Americans even know his name."
In 1975, under CIA orders, Vang Pao and a handful of his military followers, were flown from their military mountaintop headquarters to Thailand. From there Vang Pao was flown to the U.S. And as far as the U.S. government was concerned Vang Pao and the Hmong were now history--and a forgotten history at that.
Later, as we sipped tea in his kitchen, Vang Pao told me: "I would like to return to Laos someday." Then, pounding his fist into his palm he thundered: "I don't give a damn if the government in Laos is left or right--just as long as it is Laotian. But this government in power there now sold the country to the Vietnamese. Laos is no longer Laotian. It is Vietnamese. And that makes me angry."
That anger eventually got him into trouble with the U.S. government in 2007. Federal authorities charged Vang Pao and some of his followers with planning to violently overthrow the communist government of Laos.
That Lao liberation movement, known as Neo Hom, allegedly raised millions of dollars to recruit a mercenary force and buy weapons. He eventually spent six weeks in jail before being released on bail. In 2009 the charges against Gen. V.P. were dropped once it became clear that there had been a "misunderstanding" of the evidence.
In late 2009 Vang Pao said publicly that he wanted to return to Laos. "It is time to seek reconciliation so that the Hmong people still trapped in the jungle and refugee camps can be liberated."
That plan was scrapped after the Communist regime in the Laotian capital of Vientiane said Vang Pao would be executed as a war criminal if he returned to Laos.
Now, after his death, Vang Pao's followers in California's Central San Joaquin Valley are hoping he can be buried in Arlington National Cemetery along with others who fought on behalf of the United States.
Vang Pao moved to California from Montana several years ago to be closer to the largest Hmong community in the United States. His treatment at the hands of the U.S. government and now his death will no doubt galvanize the Hmong-American community into pushing for American recognition of the Hmong role in the war. There is also a desire in the Hmong community for Washington's backing in ensuring the human rights of Hmong still living and suffering under the Communist regime in Laos.
Whether or not anyone will support the Hmong cause in Washington is anyone's guess. However, I can still hear Vang Pao's words that day in the kitchen of his Montana farm. They ring as true today as they did in 1979:
"The United States has forgotten about the Hmong people and what they did. We helped the Americans. We died for the Americans--and we still are, long after the war has ended. And isn't it ironic that most Americans don't even know who we are."
Vang Pao, who died in Clovis, California Thursday, was the leader of the CIA's so-called "Secret Army" in Laos--a force of some 100,000 Hmong (pronounced "Mung") guerillas that between 1960 and 1975 kept four crack Vietnamese divisions tied down in the Laotian Highlands north of the Plain of Jars and off the backs of American troops fighting in Vietnam.
The cost of the Hmong's 15-year alliance with America was heavy. More than 30,000 out of a population of 350,000 were killed. An equivalent casualty rate in the United States would be a war in which 20 million Americans died.
Even though the alliance officially ended in 1975 when the last Americans were ignominiously run out of Saigon by advancing North Vietnamese troops, the Hmong continued to die because of their once close association with Washington.
At the time of my visit to the Hmong refugee camps during my tenure as a foreign correspondent for the Chicago Tribune I learned from Hmong survivors that the Laotian hill people were being systematically exterminated by both the North Vietnamese and the Communist Pathet Lao government.
General Vang Pao and a force of 18,000 Hmong fighters were finally forced from Laos in May 1975 by a vastly superior force of North Vietnamese troops fresh from victory in Vietnam. It was a humiliating defeat for the proud Hmong people made even worse by Washington's almost total disregard for their once important allies.
There was little doubt that Vang Pao was still feeling a sense of betrayal when I met and interviewed him, though he never expressed those feelings openly. The Hmong people I met in Northern Thailand did, however. They were angry and frustrated by the cold shoulder they received from Washington after the fall of Saigon.
I first met Vang Pao in 1979 in, of all places, Corvallis, Montana. I had just returned from Northern Thailand and several of the squalid Hmong refugee camps along the Mekong River separating Thailand from Laos.
General V.P., as he was known by his followers, took me on a tour of a 425-acre barley farm he owned some 45 miles south of Missoula. He climbed behind the wheel of a battered olive-green Chevrolet Malibu and the two of us headed off down a dirt road.
At one point he stopped the car and his hard black eyes stared at the pine covered Bitterroot Mountain before us. I had asked him why he decided to settle in Montana with his large family. At the time he had 23 children, ranging in age from 32 to 3, as well as several dozen assorted aunts, uncles and in-laws, cousins and other followers.
"It reminds me of back home," he said.
"Back home" is a place called Long Chieng, a picturesque valley settlement on the Plain of Jars in Laos.
Vang Pao, at the time 49, then maneuvered the Chevy around a curve and through a shallow ford. Along the roads and in the fields men, women and children worked or fished in one of the glassy streams that flowed through the farm.
"My neighbors are very friendly," Vang Pao told me. "But most of them know little about Laos or what went on there during the war."
Nothing has changed. Americans are just as ignorant of our Hmong allies today as they were then.
So here's a little history lesson. In 1961 Vang Pao, who had earned a reputation as a fierce guerilla fighter against the Japanese during WW II, was recruited by the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency to lead a secret army of Laotian Hill tribesmen against Laotian Communists and their North Vietnamese masters. The North Vietnamese were using routes through Laos to supply Communist troops in South Vietnam.
During a top secret briefing I had in the late 1970s with an American military attaché in Bangkok I was told just how valued Vang Pao and his Hmong fighters were to Washington and the U.S. military during the war.
"Of all the field commanders who fought the North Vietnamese, and that includes Americans, not one can come close to Gen V.P. in victories," the military attaché told me. "And only a handful of Americans even know his name."
In 1975, under CIA orders, Vang Pao and a handful of his military followers, were flown from their military mountaintop headquarters to Thailand. From there Vang Pao was flown to the U.S. And as far as the U.S. government was concerned Vang Pao and the Hmong were now history--and a forgotten history at that.
Later, as we sipped tea in his kitchen, Vang Pao told me: "I would like to return to Laos someday." Then, pounding his fist into his palm he thundered: "I don't give a damn if the government in Laos is left or right--just as long as it is Laotian. But this government in power there now sold the country to the Vietnamese. Laos is no longer Laotian. It is Vietnamese. And that makes me angry."
That anger eventually got him into trouble with the U.S. government in 2007. Federal authorities charged Vang Pao and some of his followers with planning to violently overthrow the communist government of Laos.
That Lao liberation movement, known as Neo Hom, allegedly raised millions of dollars to recruit a mercenary force and buy weapons. He eventually spent six weeks in jail before being released on bail. In 2009 the charges against Gen. V.P. were dropped once it became clear that there had been a "misunderstanding" of the evidence.
In late 2009 Vang Pao said publicly that he wanted to return to Laos. "It is time to seek reconciliation so that the Hmong people still trapped in the jungle and refugee camps can be liberated."
That plan was scrapped after the Communist regime in the Laotian capital of Vientiane said Vang Pao would be executed as a war criminal if he returned to Laos.
Now, after his death, Vang Pao's followers in California's Central San Joaquin Valley are hoping he can be buried in Arlington National Cemetery along with others who fought on behalf of the United States.
Vang Pao moved to California from Montana several years ago to be closer to the largest Hmong community in the United States. His treatment at the hands of the U.S. government and now his death will no doubt galvanize the Hmong-American community into pushing for American recognition of the Hmong role in the war. There is also a desire in the Hmong community for Washington's backing in ensuring the human rights of Hmong still living and suffering under the Communist regime in Laos.
Whether or not anyone will support the Hmong cause in Washington is anyone's guess. However, I can still hear Vang Pao's words that day in the kitchen of his Montana farm. They ring as true today as they did in 1979:
"The United States has forgotten about the Hmong people and what they did. We helped the Americans. We died for the Americans--and we still are, long after the war has ended. And isn't it ironic that most Americans don't even know who we are."
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