Journalist David Halberstam believes that former Defense Secretary McNamara "is guilty of something even more serious than war crimes -- the crime of silence while some thirty or forty thousand young Americans died... after he changed his mind on the war."
Then why did McNamara decide to break his silence suddenly in 1995? For one thing, he claims to have figured out the lessons of Vietnam only around 1993.
Second and more plausibly, he says he decided it was time at long last to further the healing process .... His, that is, not ours. For McNamara, now 85, has been worried about his legacy. In the past decade, he has been the subject of critical studies by Shapley, McMaster and Hendrickson. Who will tell "his side" if not McNamara himself?
It is clear that McNamara sees himself as a maligned patriot: his memoir, he hopes, will help you think better of him. Wearing a figleaf of remorse, he recounts his "honest mistakes" and the folly of some critics. Along the way, he tells us of his commitment to public service as a 12 year-old Eagle Scout, his tough guy exploits (scaling Mt. Rainier, standing up to a mob of antiwar demonstrators, etc) and his encounters with the rich and famous, as when he discussed poetry with Yevtoshenko and Jackie O. (Oddly, there's nary a mention of his parent's names). He concludes with 11 potted lessons -- lessons he hopes will help us heal our wounds and steer clear of future threats. In the appendix, he adds his imprimatur to the efforts of policymakers seeking a non-nuclear world. He's deeply moved, he says, by readers who've expressed their gratitude for the healing wisdom of his book.
YET MUCH AS MCNAMARA IS EAGER FOR US TO LEARN FROM HIM, IT APPEARS THAT IN THE PAST THREE DECADES HE HAS NOT YET DEIGNED TO LEARN FROM US. Consider two examples from the 11 "lessons" he first wrote in longhand "off the top of [his] head". (The result, you'll see, is consonant with the effort.)
1) "We failed to draw Congress and the American people into a full and frank discussion," McNamara now admits. Yet he still believes he was right to give Johnson his complete loyalty -- proud of it in fact (p.314). He seems oblivious to the stark contradiction. Hasn't he learned that he owed his ultimate allegiance to us, not Johnson? That he betrayed our trust?
2) He bemoans his failure to gather enough information. "No Southeast Asian counterparts existed for senior officials to consult when making decisions on Vietnam". Otherwise, he would not have "underestimated the power of [Vietnamese] nationalism," or failed to win "the hearts and minds" of the Vietnamese. Nonsense. In 1965 Southeast Asian specialist George Kahin lead a national "teach-in" that made precisely these points. Another scholar of intelligence and integrity, Bernard Fall, who died in Vietnam in 1967, witnessed the French failure firsthand; he, too, could have enlightened McNamara, if only McNamara weren't convinced that he knew it all. The same goes for military experts like Victor Krulak, who argued that a war of attrition was doomed to fail. Though seemingly shaken by the reasoning, McNamara never let Krulak, or dozens of other military naysayers, meet with Johnson.
McNamara still doesn't know how to listen. His book ignores eminent antiwar critics like Prof. Hans Morgenthau, who, by 1965, pointed out the very lessons McNamara recycles for us as his own wisdom. He impugns honorable men like Fall and Halberstam as erstwhile hawks who helped drum up support for the war. Perhaps it goes back to his schooldays, when he "worked his tail off to beat" the "Chinese, Japanese and Jews" in his class. Does McNamara still fear the humiliation of bringing home less than an A? Of conceding something to his "rivals"?
McNamara, as he repeatedly reminds us, is a most courteous, modest man. Cultured, too. His morality reminds me of what Professor Schucking said of his compatriots after WWI: Germans are unwilling to put themselves completely in the position of others, which is why one kind of humaneness is poorly developed in them... not the humanity... [of the striving intellect], but the humaneness which comes from respect for one's neighbor as a moral personality. The Germans confuse these two, as was shown when they put up posters in WWI listing the German winners of the Nobel Prizes to rebut the Allies charges of inhumanity." Now consider McNamara again. Is it any wonder that he refused to donate the proceeds of this book to Vietnam Vets? That it will go to some ivory-tower program dedicated to establishing "dialogue" with the Vietnamese?
McNamara still thinks he made "honest mistakes" of cognition. Incredibly, he persists in blaming these mistakes on insufficient organization and information. His very metier. (What did I.F. Stone know, one wonders, that he didn't?) But McNamara, ever the organization man, ever the artificial intelligence machine, still fails to grasp an elemental point: There can be no intelligence without *emotional* intelligence. In McNamara's failure to consider how Vietnam decisionmaking was affected -- not only by wrenching ambivalence-- but by politics, pride, macho, ambition, groupthink, and unexamined fears, he is even now further from reckoning with the past than the garden-variety, educated layperson. Unlike McNamara himself, we can glimpse the emotional factors that led him to control, manipulate, distort, invent, and filter the tremendous information he had at his disposal. If this memoir is self-delusion on his part, it is pathetic self-delusion. If it is self-serving spin, it is beneath contempt.
McNamara has made a career out of telling people what he thinks they want to hear. After reading this book, I've concluded that he is as bereft of emotional intelligence -- empathy, honesty, judgment, self-awareness -- and yes, remorse, as he was three decades ago.
Ingratitude on my part? Heavens, no. Let the headlines one day proclaim, "A Grateful Nation Buries McNamara."