Can the modern military be moral? That’s the subtext of Tim Reiner’s obituary in the New York Times of the late Robert McNamara, the Architect of the Vietnam War.
I find McNamara a fascinating figure. We’re familiar with those who make war on our behalf, on the assumption that the moral high ground is already ours, and hence our actions are justified.
But here’s a man from the old school, who seems to have made war (often in dirty, secret ways) because he believed it was the means to a moral end. When it became clear that it wasn’t, in Vietnam at least, he advocated (unsuccessfully) for a peaceful settlement.
He also appears to have been that rarest of figures: a powerful public figure who took ownership of his actions and honestly assessed them, even though that meant bearing the immense weight of their consequences. McNamara’s public concern about the morality of his own action was famously captured in the Oscar-winning documentary film The Fog of War: Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara.
Confessing to possessing a conscience does not, of course, give anyone a free pass. “Mr. McNamara must not escape the lasting moral condemnation of his countrymen,” wrote New York Times editorial writer Howard Raine of the soul-searching questions raised by McNamara in a 1995 memoir. And some critics, including Noam Chomsky, have suggested that McNamara’s mea culpa was limited only to the loss off American lives, and did not include, for example, the virtual destruction of South Vietnam and its people.
But then those who comment from the sidelines have never had to struggle with the responsibility of massing military might in the belief that we are defending the free world. As McNamara noted, the firebombing of Japan by US forces in the Second World War (in which he played a strategic role) was justified by the allied victory. His question: “What makes it immoral if you lose and not immoral if you win?”
McNamara couldn’t answer the question, and it’s unlikely his critics could either. But it’s worth remembering that the enemy – whether Japan during WWII or the Soviet bloc during the Cold War – may be unburdened by the same pangs of conscience that can cripple the good guys. In war, he who hesitates is often lost. That said, identifying the “enemy” is a matter of perception, and perception shifts with the times. That’s what allows doves to embrace McNamara today.
As US Secretary of Defense during the Vietnam War, and later as head of the the World Bank, McNamara held immense power. The decisions he made had far-reaching consequences, some of them unintended, many of them tragic. Millions died in Vietnam, and what to what end? History will judge, and perhaps harshly.
Still, I respect McNamara’s honesty. I’d like to see today’s leaders inherit his ability to wrestle with his own conscience – the best of allies and the deadliest of foes. The modern military may not be a moral force, but Robert McNamara tried to be a moral man.