‘Great Expression Of National Unhappiness’

Press, Volume CIX, Issue 32120, 16 October 1969, Page 13

‘Great Expression Of National Unhappiness’

(By

ANTHONY LEWIS,

of the

“New York Times/* through N.Z.P.A.)

WASHINGTON, Oct. 15. Many currents of opinion and emotion run through the great expression of national unhappiness that is the Vietnam Moratorium.

But underlying it is one central issue of American policy: should this country still be committed to suppqrt of the Thieu Government in Saigon as the only legitimate Government of South Vietnam? To anyone who has followed the torments of our policy over the years, that must be the most obvious of statements. But it may be worth elaborating the obvious, this day, because in all the demonstration of feeling we may lose sight of precisely what President Nixon’s critics would have him do that he is not doing. Those close to the President reflect a strong feeling that the Administration is not being given due credit for steps taken towards peace. President Nixon has started withdrawing American forces, they point out; he has can-

celled the Johnson orders to maintain maximum military pressure on the enemy; he has offered the Communists a role in a joint commission to hold new elections in South Vietnam.

All that is unarguable, but it is also true that so far as can be told the fundamental objective of our policy in Vietnam over many years remains unchanged. That is to prevent the destruction or removal of the Saigon regime except by agreed “legitimate” means such as an election.

In the Administration’s view, the United States still has a vital interest in Vietnam. That is the preservation, not of the Saigon Government as such, but of the credibility of all our world commitments—a credibility that would be shattered, it is argued, by a hasty abandonment of Saigon.

This is what his advisers mean when they say with great intensity that almost all other countries, especially those in Asia, really want us to fulfil our commitments in Vietnam—no matter how they may criticise us publicly. The stated Administration policy, therefore, is that we must pace our withdrawals to the strengthening of South Vietnamese forces. If public opinion at home allows us to

do so, to hold on, Hanoi will get the message and finally agree to negotiate a settlement in Paris, or perhaps just let the war fade away. The critics of that view cover a broad spectrum; many would simply reject all the assumptions and say that we should get out whatever the consequences. But that position is unlikely to prevail, in a foreseeable Washington, so that it is more interesting to consider the arguments of what might be called the Establishment critics—the men who have held office, who in many cases suffered through their own Vietnam mistakes, and who now passionately want to see a new Administration end the tragedy.

These men challenge, first, the proposition that holding on in Vietnam will bolster our credibility or is necessary to please other countries. “To hold on when we have a loser cannot improve our posture,” one man says, adding of other countries: “Sure, there are people ready to hold our coat. They’d prefer us to go on fighting, but they will all understand if we have to liquidate this.” Nor do these critics believe that the United States can get a negotiated settlement of the kind the Administration seeks, preserving the appearance of Saigon’s legitimacy. They say that the Communists have been fighting for 25 years against exactly that proposition, and fighting with fanatical determination.

“It is inconsistent,” one former official put it, “to say, as the President has, that we no longer seek a military victory—and then to seek the same objective in a political settlement. When you say that the touchstone of a settlement is the legitimacy of the Saigon Government, you are saying that there can be no settlement.” Men such as Mr Averell Harriman and Mr Cyrus Vance and Mr Clark Clifford have offered different formulas for peace, but they seem to agree that the United States must do two things: make absolutely clear to Hanoi that we have abandoned the idea of military victory, and make cleaito Saigon that it cannot count any longer on un-| questioning American support. The curious thing is that, for a time, President Nixon seemed to be embarked on a policy that would accomplish those basic objectives. That was the policy of massive American troop withdrawals, continuing irresistibly and on a fixed schedule toward total withdrawal of at least combat ground forces. Of course, that path would force Saigon, before long, to try to make its own accommodation with the other side. Some in the Nixon Administration would say that this still is the policy—-that the schedule is there, though not announced. But if so, its effect has certainly been fudged.

President Nixon’s deferral of a planned withdrawal decision in August had a disastrous impact on American expectations. His praise for President Thieu as one of the world’s half-dozen best politicians, the continuing military talk of progress on the ground, the evident influence of the Ambassador, Mr Bunker—all these signs of the old pattern have discouraged belief in the existence of a determined new policy. At best, the President is sending out a muddled signal to Hanoi, to Saigon and to his own people.

That is the way responsible, cautious critics in Washington see the issue on Moratorium Day. [ They know all too well, from experience, the considerations that move the President. But they believe that American opinion and the inescapable facts of Vietnam will force him eventually to a break with the past—a break that will be the less painful the sooner made.