Hats
Off To Ron Utz & Sydney Schanberg For Clarifying the American POW Issue Of
The Vietnam War
Hats Off To
Ron Utz & Sydney Schanberg For Clarifying the American POW Issue Of The
Vietnam War
American Pravda: Relying Upon Maoist Professors of Cultural Studies
• JULY 18, 2016
Last week America suffered the loss of Sydney Schanberg, widely regarded as one of the greatest journalists of his
generation. Yet as I’d previously noted, when I readhis long and glowing obituary in the New York Times, I was shocked to
see that it included not a single word concerning the greatest story of his
career, which had been the primary focus of the last quarter century of his research
and writing.
The cynical abandonment of hundreds of American POWs at the end of the
Vietnam War must surely rank as one of the most monumental scandals of modern
times, and the determined effort of the mainstream media to maintain this
enormous governmental cover-up for over four decades raises serious doubts
about whether we can believe what our newspapers report about anything else.
A couple of mainstream academics, one liberal and one conservative,
whose names would be recognized as those of prominent public intellectuals,
dropped me notes strongly applauding my effort to reopen the POW controversy
and help get the truth out at last.
But the vast majority of my readers, perhaps being of a younger generation,
were quite surprised to read my presentation, presumably having always vaguely
assumed that talk of the “abandoned POWs” was just some Hollywood-inspired myth
of the 1980s, generated by the success of the Rambo movies of the
Reagan Era and continued by the populist paranoia of Ross Perot, before
gradually fading away with the passage of time. I can’t really blame them
because until just a few years ago that was exactly my own impression.
As someone who was just a child during the Vietnam War and had no
familial connection to the conflict, I’d paid little attention to the history.
During the late 1970s and afterward, the newspapers had gradually informed me
of the POW activists, with their wild talk of Americans still held for years
after the war in secret prisons of Communist Vietnam and the dark accusations
they made of government conspiracies working to suppress that truth.
Naturally, I’d discounted such claims as the most obvious lunacy, on a
par with UFO abductions, and never doubted that the advocates were exactly the
sort of rightwing crackpots the media had always suggested. Every now and then
lengthy cover stories had appeared in The New Republic or The
Atlantic Monthly, among my favorite publications, strongly reinforcing
that established verdict, and I always read those, nodded my head, and thought
no more of the topic. For thirty-five years I never once considered the
possibility that the POWs might have actually existed.
But perhaps it is exactly that past ignorance and disinterest in the Vietnam
War and the ensuing POW controversy that affords me some reasonable objectivity
on the issue, allowing me to analyze the facts much as I would a historical
puzzle from Ancient Greece. And once I finally encountered both sides of the
story in late 2008, the evidence in favor of the reality of the POWs seemed
absolutely overwhelming.
When I discovered Schanberg’s stunning 8,000 word expose online, an article rejected by nearly every
significant publication in America, my first step was to locate copies of the
conflicting articles that had once seemed so persuasive to me, and reread them
much more carefully. Once I did that I realized that the factual argumentation
they had provided had been extremely thin. Their contents heavily focused on
the cultural and ideological aspects of the POW movement, with the possible
reality of any POWs casually dismissed upon rather scanty evidence. What I had
been reading was cultural criticism rather than investigative journalism.
To a considerable extent, the rightwing POW activists played into the
hands of their critics by presenting the facts of the case upside down, framing
their arguments in a way sure to attract the scorn of most reporters. Activist
rhetoric was heavy with denunciations of the “treacherous” Communists in Hanoi,
who cruelly kept our American POWs still imprisoned despite the peace agreement
that ended the war. To any objective journalist, this surely sounded paranoid
and ridiculous. Why would the Communists want to keep the American POWs? Out of
pure evilness or something?
But the reality was exactly the opposite. It was the American government
that had been treacherous, by refusing to pay the Vietnamese the $3.25 billion
in reparations that they had demanded at the Paris Peace Talks as a price for
ending the war and returning the POWs. If you buy a car and you refuse to pay,
is it “treacherous” if the car dealer never delivers your vehicle?
The problem had been that for domestic political reasons the Nixon
Administration chose to pretend that the promised payment of the money was
unconnected with the prisoner return, instead labelling it “humanitarian
assistance.” Unsurprisingly, Congress balked at providing billions in foreign
aid to a hated Communist adversary, and Nixon, weakened by the growing
Watergate Scandal, couldn’t admit that unless the money were delivered, Hanoi
would refuse to return the remaining POWs.
This very simple and plausible reconstruction seems to have been
completely ignored by the prestigious magazines that covered the controversy.
For example, the July 1985TNR cover story by James Rosenthal, a television journalist, ran nearly 3,000 words,
but never raised this possibility, instead being overwhelmingly devoted to
ridiculing the POW activists and their celebrity enablers, while questioning
their motives. The supposed non-existence of the POWs was established by
quoting a few government reports and official declarations. Rosenthal
particularly emphasized that the head of the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA)
discounted any evidence of surviving POWs, apparently being unaware that, as
Schanberg notes, his immediate DIA predecessor had long held exactly the
opposite position, believing that the data indicated the existence of live
POWs; after a bitter bureaucratic struggles, he had been forced into retirement
over that very issue. Missing that sort of important detail represents the
difference between publishing a solidly researched article and just a bit of
casual beltway opinion journalism.
Even more drastic was my reappraisal of the December 1991 Atlantic
Monthly cover story by H. Bruce Franklin. Entitled “The POW/MIA Myth” and running a
remarkable 15,000 words, this lengthy debunking had appeared in one of
America’s most prestigious outlets for longform journalism at the very start of
the Senate POW Hearings and must have heavily influenced the perceptions and
tone of the daily print journalists who covered the hearings, while reporting
the public statements of the various witnesses and the positions taken by
Senators John McCain, John Kerry, and the other Committee members.
The very first sentence of Franklin’s article noted that 69% of the
American public then believed that live POWs were still being held in Southeast
Asia, but he not unreasonably attributed much of this belief to the various
popular Hollywood movies of the 1980s. Franklin is a cultural historian rather
than an investigative journalist and he seems to draw on few sources of
information beyond the regular newspapers, yet casually ridicules a 60
Minutes producer whose five year investigation had concluded that the POWs
definitely existed. Given his own expertise and background, it is hardly
surprising that Franklin devotes as much as 90% of the piece to the “cultural”
aspects of the POW phenomenon—the rightwing activists who believed it, the
hucksters who profited from it, the unrealistic plots of the Hollywood action
movies that glorified it.
In a particularly ironic turn, he mocked anyone who might believe in an
“enormous conspiracy” by the various arms of the U.S government to suppress the
truth about the POWs. Ironic, because Franklin himself was an unrepentant
radical Maoist who been one of the very few tenured professors fired during the
campus turmoil of the 1960s when he incited riots at Stanford and organized
attacks on university buildings. Apparently, he firmly believed that government
officials all lied about Vietnam during the war itself, but became scrupulously
honest once it had ended.
Franklin’s naivete is almost charming. In 1985 President Reagan’s
National Security Advisor was secretly caught on tape admitting that POWs were probably still
alive, a statement exactly contrary to his official public position. But
Franklin attributes this stunning gaffe to the distorting psychological
influence of the Rambo movies then playing in the theaters.
He also persuasively argues that Reagan himself firmly believed in the
reality of the POWs and during his term of office made various secret attempts
to rescue them, but uses these facts merely to portray the Gipper as ignorant
and delusional, never apparently considering the possibility that the president
of the United States might have access to better intelligence sources than
those of a Maoist professor of cultural studies.
Meanwhile, Schanberg noted sworn testimony by Reagan’s National
Security Advisor, revealing that early in the administration an offer had been
received via a third country suggesting Hanoi would return the surviving POWs
in exchange for a payment of $4 billion (the difference from the original $3.25
billion presumably representing nearly a decade of accrued interest). Perhaps
this development, rather than Hollywood action movies, helped explain the
president’s beliefs.
Indeed, perhaps the most remarkable aspect of Franklin’s piece is that
although he devotes 21 pages of magazine text to exhaustively exploring almost
every cultural aspect of the so-called “POW Myth,” including detailed plot
summaries of several Hollywood action movies, he never once even mentions the
$3.25 billion in reparations that America had promised Vietnam and then never
paid, which likely constitutes the key to the entire political mystery. I find
that omission highly suspicious and wonder whether he (or his editor) feared
that providing such a telling clue might lead his readers to reconsider the
entire logical framework being presented to them.
As mentioned, Franklin was an especially fervent opponent of the
Vietnam War and he surely must have retained a burning political hatred for
Henry Kissinger and the other Nixon Administration alumni whom he blamed for
the disaster. But these individuals were obviously also the central figures
behind the POW cover-up, and by applying a thick whitewash of cultural critique
to the massive scandal, he helped ensure that none of them were ever called to
account for their misdeeds by the American people. The term “useful idiot”
surely comes to mind.
Over the years it has become quite apparent that major media outlets
are sometimes enlisted as weapons in a subterranean propaganda war, and one
must wonder whether publication of the massive Franklin cover story, timed to
precisely coincide with the launch of the Senate POW Hearings, might have been
an instance of this. Certainly there were powerful political figures very eager
to bury the scandal once and for all, and what better way to do so than by
providing a prestigious national platform for a cultural critic whose greatest
personal specialty was the literary interpretation of science fiction, having
him produce an article focusing so heavily upon the cultural and ideological
shortcomings of the POW advocates while rather casually dismissing the possible
factual basis of their case. Surely there must have been numerous investigative
journalists available who might have used the same venue to provide the
magazine’s elite national readership with a much more realistic and balanced
assessment of the facts. But perhaps that’s exactly the point.
For Further
Reading:
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