Here's the Smell of Blood Still

When Martin Luther King Jr. publicly referred to "the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today -- my own government," he had no way of knowing that his description would ring so true 40 years later. As the autumn of 2007 begins, the reality of Uncle Sam as an unhinged mega-killer haunts a large minority of Americans. Many who can remember the horrific era of the Vietnam War are nearly incredulous that we could now be living in a time of similarly deranged official policy.

Despite all the differences, the deep parallels between the two war efforts inform us that the basic madness of entrenched power in our midst is not about miscalculations or bad management or quagmires. The continuity tells us much more than we would probably like to know about the obstacles to decency that confront us every day.

The incredulity and numbing, the frequent bobbing-and-weaving of our own consciousness, the hollow comforts of passivity, insulate us from hard truths and harsher realities than we might ever have expected to need to confront -- about our country and about ourselves.

Of all the words spewed from the Pet Crock hearings with General Petraeus and Ambassador Crocker, maybe none were more revealing than Petraeus's bid for a modicum of sympathy for his burdens as a commander. "This is going on three years for me, on top of a year deployment to Bosnia as well," he said at the Senate hearing, "so my family also knows something about sacrifice."

There's sacrifice and sacrifice.

"It is as bad as it seems," longtime activist Dave Dellinger told a gathering of protesters outside the 1972 Republican National Convention in Miami Beach as it prepared to re-nominate a war-criminal president. "We must achieve a breakthrough in understanding reality."

I listened, agreeing. But it was, and is, easier said. How do we truly grasp what's being done in our names, with our tax dollars -- and, most of all, with our inordinate self-restraint that tolerates what should be intolerable?

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From an Oval Office tape, May 4, 1972: "I'll see that the United States does not lose," the president said while conferring with aides Al Haig, John Connally and Henry Kissinger. "I'm putting it quite bluntly. I'll be quite precise. South Vietnam may lose. But the United States cannot lose. Which means, basically, I have made the decision. Whatever happens to South Vietnam, we are going to cream North Vietnam ... For once, we've got to use the maximum power of this country ... against this shit-ass little country: to win the war. We can't use the word, 'win.' But others can."

By mid-1972, U.S. troop levels in Vietnam were way down -- to around seventy thousand -- almost half a million lower than three years earlier. Fewer Americans were dying, and the carnage in Vietnam was fading as a front-burner issue in U.S. politics. Nixon's withdrawal strategy had changed the focus of media coverage.

The executive producer of ABC's evening news, Av Westin, had written in a 1969 memo: "I have asked our Vietnam staff to alter the focus of their coverage from combat pieces to interpretive ones, pegged to the eventual pull-out of the American forces. This point should be stressed for all hands." In a telex to the network's Saigon bureau, Westin gave the news of his decree to the correspondents: "I think the time has come to shift some of our focus from the battlefield, or more specifically American military involvement with the enemy, to themes and stories under the general heading 'We Are on Our Way Out of Vietnam.'"

The killing had gone more technological; from 1969 to 1972 the U.S. government dropped 3.5 million tons of bombs on Vietnam, a total higher than all the bombing in the previous five years. The combination of withdrawing U.S. troops and stepping up the bombardment was anything but a coincidence; the latest in military science would make it possible to, in President Nixon's private words, "use the maximum power of this country" against a "shit-ass little country."