Speculations from Vietnam
By Mel Copen December 3, 1999
© Mel Copen, December, 1999

Two weeks ago I had the opportunity to explore a bit of the Cu Chi tunnel complex about 60 kilometers outside of Saigon (now Ho Chi Min City). The jungle has grown back, showing nature’s resiliency in shaking off the effect of bombs, napalm and Agent Orange. Today, it’s an area of serenity, except for the busloads of tourists (mostly French and Japanese) who come to visit this infamous network of tunnels. Developed originally by the Viet Minh in their fight against the French, the labyrinth was built between 1940 and 1960. It later became the main command center for the Viet Cong in their assaults on Saigon. From above the ground, little is visible. But under the surface lie 120 miles of narrow passageways in three levels, ranging from 9 to 36 feet deep. They connect to small rooms that provided, in the most primitive of fashions, for the needs of the command center and up to 8,000 troops. But the most incredible aspect for me was the fact that the typical passageways, unlit, are only 2 feet wide and approximately 4 feet high – not a place for people with claustrophobia – or anyone else, for that matter.

The Viet Minh and then the Viet Cong took to the tunnels for protection and used them to move supplies and troops. In a few hours visit, one gets just a small taste of what it must have been like underground – doubled over and trying to breathe with diaphragm compressed, duck waddling or crawling in the dark with only a small flashlight to show the way and virtually no space between your body and the walls, the smell of the earth pressing in, carrying loads and often traveling miles at a time while the earth shakes from the bombs falling above – and not knowing what you might encounter at the next turn or whether you might trigger one of your own traps, or when a direct or close would mean burial alive. Even now, knowing that things have been “sanitized” and converted to a tourist attraction, the feeling one gets is not very pleasant.

On the other side, a small part of the frustration of the American GI also became real – fighting a foe that was willing to live by these rules; many simultaneously questioning why they were there in the first place, but doing their duty; fighting a war by political, rather than military rules, and against a relentless foe in a hot, steamy totally-non-conventional arena. The anger and frustration that built had to be enormous. The technological solution didn’t work. The bombs that were dropped dug craters, many still visible as depressions in the jungle terrain, 20 feet wide and 10 feet deep. But they obviously had virtually no long term affect other, perhaps, than psychological (the damage to the tunnels could be repaired quickly) and little short term effect unless they made a direct hit. Millions and millions of dollars of effort, for scant results. And the only effective way to fight being to send men into this maze of underground passages.

There is a small open air museum there, which shows the various and ingenious booby-traps that were devised to kill or maim any unauthorized person who tried to enter the tunnels – obviously the only way that the tunnels could be cleared. One can only begin to sense what it must have been like to be a “tunnel rat,” assigned to clean out the Viet Minh or Viet Cong – most of whom would have been long-since gone through various underground escape routes – and the lasting impact this must have had on the French and US soldiers who had that task. And with each death or injury, the anger and frustration had to build – an anger and frustration echoed in many ways and aimed in many directions, not only by those who were there, but also throughout our whole society.

Many years ago I recall reading a quotation made by a respected military strategist. I don’t remember either who it was or the exact wording but it went something like: “in war, you can usually predict the winner by looking at the uniforms worn by the combatants. The simpler they are, the higher the probability that side will win.” I don’t know what lead the speaker to this conclusion, but if one associates fancy uniforms with relative affluence (a reasonable assumption) there may be a very logical association. When people have little in the way of material comforts to sacrifice, they play by a very different set of rules than those who put their comforts and heard-earned possessions at risk. The battle can become very one sided – despite an enormous countervailing disparity in technology. We (and the French) learned that in Vietnam. The Russians, in a totally different environment, learned the same in Afghanistan.

A quarter century has now passed since the cessation of hostilities in Vietnam. During this period, it is not only the jungle growing over Cu Chi that has changed. Although the communist government installed by Ho Chi Minh is still in place, it is very different from the system he envisioned. The private sector is now playing a substantial and rapidly increasing role; factory workers are paid on piece rates; western goods, entertainment and values are making major incursions. Ho Chi Minh City, and to a lesser extent, Hanoi, are beehives of activity, with the streets full of motorcycles (mostly Hondas and other Japanese brands) in addition to the traditional bicycles. More blue jeans and stylish western clothes can be seen than traditional garb. Cell phones are glued to many ears and virtually every type of merchandise can be found in the incredible number of stores. Vietnam is still a poor country, but it is clear that the aspirations for a more comfortable life and for material possessions are now a driving force.

As I looked at the young people in the cities of Vietnam (and they are the driving force – there hardly seem to be any old people around), with their Hondas, their cell phones and their Internet access, I wonder if they would have done what their fathers and mothers did? I doubt it. And then I look at the changes that have entered the economic system – a change process that has been echoed around the world. As countries seek a better life, they tend to abandon rigid approaches to planning and orchestration of society and move towards more open-market mechanisms, encouragement of entrepreneurial spirit and individual freedoms. Would a different outcome to the war have brought about these changes in attitude as effectively as natural processes have done? I doubt that too. My guess is that aspirations for a better future have done more to change thinking and behavior than any war could have accomplished.

As my wife and I were sitting on the plane, flying back from Vietnam I had a thought – one that, given the political situation, was probably totally “unimplementable” – but people are allowed to dream. What would the result have been if instead of spending billions of dollars and untold lives in a futile quasi-military/political effort to fight the tide, the same money had been put into building the Vietnamese infrastructure and into projects that would have created more affluence? By starting the process to bring the future to the then-present, could we have created a situation where fighting a war became, personally, a high risk activity – i.e. where the benefits of winning were lessened and the cost of losing became high? Could the same economic and social change that is now occurring have taken place faster and without the incredible sacrifice on all sides? But that is logical, and based on economic rather than political considerations, and who says that we are or must be either logical or apolitical? Hindsight is great! But is there a lesson here from the past and apply to the present and the future?
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