Learning from ‘Vietnam’ documentary
As the dust settles on the 18-hour documentary The Vietnam War ,it seems unlikely that the longstanding debates engendered by the conflict will abate much in the film’s aftermath. As is so often the case, most reviews, some written even before the first episode of Ken Burns and Lynn Novick’s epic aired, reveal more about the reviewer than the film itself. When it comes to the war in Vietnam, there are plenty of hobbyhorses to mount.
It will take time for American viewers to process this documentary (on which, full disclosure, I served as a historical adviser). Old wounds are reopened. Death is relentless. Passionate, sometimes vulgar, voices are transposed on top of duplicity at the highest levels of government. If nothing else, The Vietnam War intimately exposes its audience to the trauma of war.
It seems, though, there is something important not to take away from this documentary: lessons.
Lessons tend to compartmentalize history, hewing off the rough edges of complex human experiences, so that they can be packaged into neatly readable lists. They also reduce, if not disregard, the numerous, interdependent variables so common in war.
Rather, viewers of the Burns-Novick saga, Americans in particular, should seek to gain newfound perspective from this complex story. In short, the film should stimulate new conversations about the war in Vietnam rather than serve to end debate because two of our nation’s finest directors have spoken. This documentary should not become the accepted gospel of Vietnam.
Arguably, the best way to gain much-needed perspective is through empathizing with the multitude of voices we hear in the film, and perhaps most important the voices from those with whom we reflexively disagree. Empathy helps us fathom how competing motives drive humans to make difficult decisions, both good and bad.
Empathy leads us to better appreciate why so many Vietnamese saw foreigners as “invaders” and why so many Americans in the early 1960s were unwilling to question their nation’s sense of exceptionalism. It helps us better grasp why soldiers and Marines like Mogie Crocker and John Musgrave defined their sense of manhood through service in combat units, or why Bill Ehrhart pined at the chance to become a star in his own John Wayne movie.
Empathy involves seeing American protesters as more than just “spoiled, privileged kids,” to considering that the deserter Jack Todd might have been more courageous by heading to Canada than Tim O’Brien, who came close to deserting but ultimately deployed reluctantly to South Vietnam. It forces us to wrestle with the uncomfortable proposition, voiced by both the American Marine Karl Marlantes and the North Vietnamese soldier Nguyen Ngoc, that there can, in fact, be a “savage joy” to combat.
Of course, seeking perspective from history does not mean you have to agree with the views of these historical actors, or the narrative choices made by Burns and Novick. Even as an adviser, I left the film feeling the writers had vastly oversimplified American military strategy and unjustly reduced its objectives to the well-worn tropes of “attrition” and “body count.”
Others may be troubled by the Saigon government being painted as little more than a corrupt band of thieves. And still others might question why military officers who were young at the time are the ones speaking on decisions made at the highest levels of government. Is Marlantes, a former Marine lieutenant, best equipped to speak on the inner workings of the Johnson White House? Still, any displeasure with the directors’ choices should not lead to handy checklists of lessons. Viewers should resist temptations to see the documentary simply as an indictment of those with whom they disagree. Such an approach leads, inappropriately, to an “if only” formulation of history.
Eighteen hours is hardly enough time to embrace the complexities of the wars, both home and abroad, that engulfed Southeast Asia and the United States for much of the Cold War era. It’s hard to imagine fitting every question into a documentary of any length, let alone every answer. So, if Americans failed to question assumptions on what war could achieve in the 1960s, perhaps it is time to do so now. A checklist of lessons won’t get us there.