Five Years On, Four Decades Later: Morality of Our Cause

[The New York Stock Exchange on Wall Street; Image from the New York Times]

[Continues "Blood on Our Hands"]

Roughly four decades earlier, in the midst of another war, the major newspapers performed an act against the government analogous to the exposés we witnessed of late. In 1971, the New York Times and the Washington Post published the so-called Pentagon Papers—analyses and correspondence of US foreign policy planners—revealing the line of thinking that led to and guided conduct of the Vietnam war, including the outright and calculated deception of the American people.

The threat then, of course, was Communism. Specifically, the concern was that the success of (local) communism in Vietnam would spread (thanks to Soviet Russia and Maoist China) Communism throughout Southeast Asia (most immediately to Laos and Cambodia, and then to Thailand, Myanmar, Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines), including crucial Japan, influence India, affect the oil-rich Middle East, and expose vulnerable Australia. This is what has come to be known as the domino effect theory.

Chomsky, in reviewing the leaked government documents, observes that US foreign policy planners were generally vague and abstract about this theory. Specifically, US foreign policy planners—they who were calling for, planning, and executing the war—did not explain in exact details and concrete terms just how exactly the dominoes would fall, how this mechanism (the spreading of what they call “the rot”) would work, what exactly it involved (using terms such as “accommodation” (to Communist Russia and especially China)), what the “threat” concretely was.

Chomsky lists some details that policymakers gloss over:

Occasionally, as in the document just cited, the planners make it clear that military conquest is not the mechanism they fear. Surely they did not believe that Ho Chi Minh was going to conquer Thailand or Malaysia, or set sail for Indonesia or Hawaii. One must assume that the planners were sufficiently in touch with reality to realize that Vietnamese support for an indigenous guerrilla movement could hardly be very significant in Thailand and Malaya (and would be of no significance beyond). Such movements could succeed only if they had powerful roots and were capable of rallying the local population. If nothing else, [the US government’s] own repeated failures to incite resistance in North Vietnam would have sufficed to establish this fact. And it is difficult to believe that the planners, not ignorant men, were so entangled in a web of fantasy that they anticipated Chinese aggression in Southeast Asia. As we see from the cited document, they regarded even a unified Vietnam that would be hostile to China as a danger to their plans, and anticipated that the mysterious Thai “accommodation” would take place even without any overt military moves by China (my emphases).

The threat, then—as was clear to and made obvious by the policymakers themselves—was not military. If there was to be such Communist “accommodation”/expansion/spread, it would not be due to military force (least of all by China). This, however, by no means put the brakes on the idea of American intervention in Vietnam. On the contrary, what US foreign policy planners took from this was the need to find justification for American military intervention (of which, as the facts made apparent (to them), there was none). In other words, because there was no such (real) threat, there was a need to find (an ostensible) one. Chomsky spells this out:

In fact, the American political leadership desperately sought some indication that China had aggressive intentions. A case in point was the U.S. government interpretation of Lin Piao’s statement of September 1965, which emphasized that national liberation movements must be self-reliant and cannot count on China for meaningful support. To McNamara, Rusk and others, this was a new Mein Kampf. The response of the Kennedy intellectuals to Mao’s talk about the East Wind prevailing over the West Wind, or Khrushchev’s statement of support for wars of national liberation, was of the same order. It would be misleading to say that these statements inspired fear or concern; rather, ideologists eagerly seized upon these statements, as in the case of the Lin Piao article, in an effort to justify programs that they wished to undertake, or had already set in motion. As we will see directly, U.S. policy makers and American intelligence made determined (though unavailing) efforts to discover evidence that would prove the Viet Minh to be agents of “international communism.” They did not respond to such evidence by deciding to support the French [former colonial masters of Vietnam], but rather sought such evidence after deciding, with certain qualms, to support the reconquest of Indochina by France (my emphases).

There are (surprisingly!) many other examples:

One of the most remarkable revelations of the Pentagon Study is that the analysts were able to discover only one staff paper, in a record of more than two decades, “which treats communist reactions primarily in terms of the separate national interests of Hanoi, Moscow, and Peiping, rather than primarily in terms of an overall communist strategy for which Hanoi is acting as an agent” (II, 107; an intelligence estimate of November, 1961). Even in the “intelligence community,” where they are paid to get the facts straight and not to rant about helping the French defend the territorial integrity of Indochina from its people and the Commie-dominated bloc of slave states, it was apparently next to impossible to perceive, or at least express the simple truth that North Vietnam, like the Soviet Union, China, the United States, and the NLF, has its own interests, which are often decisive.

It is amusing to trace the efforts to establish that Ho Chi Minh was merely a Russian (or Chinese) puppet—as obviously must be the case. The State Department, in July, 1948, could find “no evidence of direct link between Ho and Moscow” (but naturally “assumes it exists”). State Department intelligence, in the fall, found evidence of “Kremlin-directed conspiracy . . . in virtually all countries except Vietnam.” Indochina appeared “an anomaly.” How can this be explained? To intelligence, the most likely explanation is that “no rigid directives have been issued by Moscow” or that “a special dispensation for the Vietnam government has been arranged in Moscow” (I, 5, 34). In September, 1948, the State Department noted that “There continues to be no known communication between the USSR and Vietnam, although evidence is accumulating that a radio liaison may have been established through the Tass agency in Shanghai” (DOD, book 8, 148, grasping at straws). American officials in Saigon added that “No evidence has yet turned up that Ho Chi Minh is receiving current directives either from Moscow, China, or the Soviet Legation in Bangkok.” “It may be assumed,” they conclude from this, “that Moscow feels that Ho and his lieutenants have had sufficient training and experience and are sufficiently loyal to be trusted to determine their day-to-day policy without supervision” (ibid., 151).

“We are unable to determine whether Peiping or Moscow has ultimate responsibility for Viet Minh policy,” an intelligence estimate of June, 1953 relates (I, 396), but it must be one or the other—that is an axiom (my emphases).

Chomsky makes a good point when he says, “Ignorance and stupidity can surely lead to error, but hardly to such systematic error or such certainty in error” (my emphases). In other words, the dogged obstinacy (the “principled conviction”) of these foreign policy experts cannot possibly be explained solely by (their) ignorance and stupidity. And, in fact, there is another explanation. As Chomsky goes on to elaborate, even though “all [the claims of these analysts] are at best highly dubious and probably false, so the available record indicates, [. . .] questions of fact [simply are no match,] are beside the point in theological disputation.” Then again, the thinking that these foreign policy planners demonstrate does not merely show dogmatism in the face of facts, twisting reality at all costs to forward the course of action they already—in advance—had in mind.

Rather, it reveals a more basic truth: (the guiding principle of) US foreign policy itself. That is, the principle that states: Decide first. Then find a way to justify the decision (which is what is presented to the American people). Act, intervene. And then find evidence (which usually turns out to be not there, that is, if it hasn’t yet been forgotten by a people dragged to a quagmire by its own government (thanks in part to media attention deficit)). Connecting the justification to the decision is the fact that, in Chomsy’s words, “the reality of perceived “dangers” is [. . .] irrelevant to determining the motivation of policy makers. The fact that threats were perceived and taken seriously suffices to establish motive” (my emphasis).

Moves like this make apparent the rhetorical tactics and logical strategies of US foreign policy planners. And, as Chomsky points out, they do this not only to the American people—but, perhaps more importantly, to themselves. In shaping the foreign policy of the nation, Chomsky explains that “no skilful ideologist would want to see the implications spelled out too clearly, to himself or to others. Consequently, the central factors noted above are left a mystery, apart from occasional comments.” Otherwise—if that were not the case, if they did not do that—it would be revealed that there is no case for war, after all. None all along.

If the facts cited by these Vietnam foreign policy planners were scrutinized—or even just looked at closely—it would be plain to see that “the rot” that they speak of is none other than the Communist ideological threat. As if “the rot” wasn’t vague enough (How hateful! Despicable! Like a disease or spoilage—deserving of extermination!), this term—the Communist ideological threat—equally deserves clarification/specification/deconstruction.

The threat is ideological because, as already pointed out (and as foreign policy planners themselves make clear), it is not a matter of military conquest. Neither Russia (for which it is not a part of its “axis of influence,” which is Eastern Europe) nor (especially!) China (the least (externally) aggressive, if we may point out, of all the major players and, in fact, of all great powers in history) showed any intention of exerting military force in Southeast Asia to export Communist ideology (and economics and politics). This fact, of course, is what pushed US foreign policy planners to find/forge such intention.

Communist is a little bit harder to elucidate/illuminate. This is true especially given the Red alarm that automatically goes off with the mere mention of the word and, at a more basic level, just the complexity involved in the phenomenon that the region (Southeast Asia) and more specifically Vietnam was grappling with at the time. To put it plainly, the Communist threat that US foreign policy planners were confronting was, in Chomsky’s words (again, reading the Pentagon Papers), the threat that “Vietnam [would] be united and successful in mobilization of [its] population for social and economic development, generally along Chinese lines.”

This makes more sense if we put it in context. Again, from Chomsky:

The comparison of development in South and North Vietnam was not particularly encouraging to the U.S. in this regard. An Intelligence Estimate of May, 1959 concluded that “development [in the South] will lag behind that in the North, and the GVN will continue to rely heavily upon U.S. support to close the gap between its own resources and its requirements” (DOD, book 10, 1191). In the North, the standard of living is low and “life is grim and regimented,” but “the national effort is concentrated on building for the future.” The South has a higher standard of living (and “there is far more freedom and gaiety”—for whom, is not specified, nor is there discussion of the distribution of wealth), but “basic economic growth has been slower than that of the North.” The higher standard of living in the South was not unrelated to the more than $1 billion of U.S. non-military aid, the bulk of which financed import of commodities (DOD, book 10, 1191-3).”

This threat from Vietnam was, of course, diminished—one claim by US foreign policy planners that was actually true—when bombs started falling on it. In other words, the threat that Vietnam would be economically developed was quashed thanks to US military force that caused “the vast destruction in South Vietnam and elsewhere and the hatreds, and social disruption.”

This is important to point out (and take note of). This was the threat that we were grappling with: the threat that some small Southeast Asian country (like Vietnam) would institute (locally, i.e. by itself, i.e. without military coercion or even economic assistance from the big Communist states, Russia and China) successful (and equitable!) economic programs leading to its development (as was apparent in resisting North Vietnam in contrast to American-led South Vietnam)—with Communist China as the model (and only a model, i.e. not a foreign imperial power that has the puppet local government at its clutch).

Again, this was the Communist threat: (in Chomsky’s words, citing one of the US foreign policy ideologues himself, Walt Rostow) “the possibility that the Chinese Communists can prove to Asians by progress in China that Communist methods are better and faster than democratic methods,” the threat that Communist economics and politics would prove to be successful and actually beneficial to the local population. In other words, local economic success (prosperity and equity)—that was the enemy. That was what we were combating in Vietnam. And why? Because Communist China was the model. And of course non-ideological America (the land most hostile to ideology, the concept) cannot possibly accept that, in some part of the world, Communism could actually work.

Thus, the “State [Department . . .] urged that the U.S. do what it can to retard the economic progress of the Communist Asian States (1208), a decision that is remarkable in its cruelty” (my emphasis). Thus, some actual truth in the domino theory: “National independence and revolutionary social change, if successful, may very well be contagious.” And of course we have to wage war against that: Independence movements and revolutionary social change that actually leads to the prosperity of the general local populace—why, that is unacceptable!

But surely (especially in America) there is some (non-ideological) rationale for retarding the economic development of a small Asian country, in fact, for outright wreaking destruction—a policy, to repeat Chomsky, “remarkable in its cruelty.” And there is—as laid out by the Pentagon Papers themselves: none other than a variant of Adam Smith’s (neo)classical principle of the “rational pursuit of perceived self-interest.” There is no attempt in the Pentagon Papers to conceal this, nor even the slightest hesitation in expressing it. “The primary argument,” as Chomsky says, “was straightforward”:

The United States has strategic and economic interests in Southeast Asia that must be secured. Holding Indochina is essential to securing these interests. Therefore we must hold Indochina. A critical consideration is Japan, which will eventually accommodate to the “Soviet Bloc” if Southeast Asia is lost. In effect, then, the United States would have lost the Pacific phase of World War II, which was fought, in part, to prevent Japan from constructing a closed “co-prosperity sphere” in Asia from which the U.S. would be excluded.

The goal, in other words—the real purpose, the cause of the war—was “a new ‘co-prosperity sphere’ congenial to U.S. interests and incorporating Japan [the Asian—thanks to the US, these foreign policy planners do not fail to point out—industrial machine].” An American-led (capitalist) economic sphere, in other words.

Chomsky sums up the analyses and proposals laid down in the Pentagon Papers:

There is no doubt that the Soviet Union, within the limits of its power, established its harsh and oppressive imperial rule. But it was not this fact that determined American policy in Southeast Asia. Contrary to the fantasies of Walt Rostow and others, the U.S. did not first discover that the Viet Minh were agents of a Kremlin-directed conspiracy and then proceed to aid France to beat back Russians aggression against South-east Asia.

Rather, the U.S. merely applied in Indochina the general policy of establishing Western-oriented regimes that would cooperate (”freely”) with the West (and Japan), “culturally, economically and politically,” and “contribute to a better balanced world economy”—the “world economy” in question being, of course, that of the “free world”. [. . .] To implement this policy in Vietnam, it was necessary to destroy the forces that had “captured the nationalist movement”, since these forces had a different model of social and economic development in mind” (my emphasis).

And why not? After all, Adam Smith did say (the basic tenet/axiom of modern economics) that what is good for one is good for all: namely, the pursuit of self-interest. Thus, if only everyone pursued his own interests, then everyone’s interests would be fulfilled. Ergo, what we are doing in Vietnam, as another foreign policy ideologue, William Sullivan, points out, is that we are containing “Chinese political and ideological aggressiveness [. . . which is] a threat to the ability of these peoples [e.g. the Vietnamese] to determine their own futures, and hence to develop along ways compatible with U.S. interests” (my emphasis). As Chomsky notes, it is remarkable how (the) self-determination (of other nations) is automatically rendered equivalent to the fulfillment of American interests.

And when self-determination (by other nations) turns out to be incompatible with our own interests (more precisely, with American interest, American meaning them first-class Americans)? Well, we simply ignore self-determination and go ahead and downright pursue our interests. Take this dilemma:

One long-term [US] objective is to eliminate so far as possible Communist influence and to prevent Chinese influence, [but] “the unpleasant fact [is] that Communist Ho Chi Minh is the strongest and perhaps the ablest figure in Indochina and that any suggested solution which excludes him is an expedient of uncertain outcome.

Presented with the fact that Ho Chi Minh is actually an able leader for his country and the region, what did we do? What did we choose—American interests or the self-determination of other nations (and the local/national (perhaps even regional) welfare that comes with that)? The answer is no secret: We declared war against Ho Chi Minh.

Again, the main motivation is to “prevent undue Chinese penetration and subsequent influence in Indochina.” The reason for this is “so that the peoples of Indochina will not be hampered in their natural developments by the pressure of an alien people and alien interests” (my emphases). Specifically, all that the US really wants, when you think about it, is (Chomsky quotes another foreign policy planner):

“to see installed a self-governing nationalist state which will be friendly to the U.S. and which . . . will be patterned upon our conception of a democratic state”, and will be associated “with the western powers, particularly with France with whose customs, language and laws [the peoples of Indochina] are familiar, to the end that those peoples will prefer freely to cooperate with the western powers culturally, economically and politically” and will “work productively and thus contribute to a better balanced world economy,” while enjoying a rising standard of income.

Reading this statement, it suddenly dawns on Chomsky (Eureka!) that, as it turns out, “the U.S. and France [. . .] do not constitute “alien people and alien interests” so far as the peoples of Indochina are concerned, and association with them does not hamper “natural developments” (my emphases).

Reading a National Security Report, Chomsky puts this all in context:

The problem is that now and for the foreseeable future, the USSR threatens to dominate Asia, an area of significant political, economic, and military power. The “Stalinist bloc” might achieve global dominance, if Japan, “the principal component of a Far Eastern war-making complex,” were added to it. “Whether Japan’s potential is developed and the way in which it is used will strongly influence the future patterns of politics in Asia.” “In the power potential of Asia, Japan plays the most important part” by reason of its economic potential and strategic position. “The industrial plant of Japan would be the richest strategic prize in the Far East for the USSR.” Communist pressure on Japan will mount, because of proximity, the indigenous Japanese Communist movement which might be able to exploit cultural factors and economic hardship, and “the potential of Communist China as a source of raw materials vital to Japan and a market for its goods.” Japan requires Asian food, raw materials, and markets; the U.S. should encourage “a considerable increase in Southern Asiatic food and raw material exports” to avoid “preponderant dependence on Chinese sources.” Analogous considerations hold of India. Furthermore, these markets and sources of raw materials should be developed for U.S. purposes. “Some kind of regional association . . . among the non-Communist countries of Asia might become an important means of developing a favorable atmosphere for such trade among themselves and with other parts of the world [marginalizing the USSR and presenting economic opportunities for the US]”” (my emphasis).

Later on, the main enemy becomes China:

Japan is the keystone of U.S. policy and that the loss of Southeast Asia (a likely consequence of the loss of Indochina, or even Tonkin) would drive Japan to accommodation with the Communist bloc, permitting Red China (now the main culprit, though some analyses still refer to “the Soviet Communist campaign in Southeast Asia”; cf. ibid., book 9, 214; January, 1954) to construct a military bloc more formidable than that of Japan before World War II. The worldwide effects would be disastrous. Therefore Indochina must be saved, and its countries must be encouraged to integrate themselves into the “free world” system and to stimulate the flow of raw material resources to the free world, Japan being the critical factor (e.g., I, 436, 438, 450, 452).

On the surface, then, Japan is what’s really important:

The fall of Southeast Asia would underline the apparent economic advantages to Japan of association with the communist-dominated Asian sphere. Exclusion of Japan from trade with Southeast Asia would seriously affect the Japanese economy, and increase Japan’s dependence on United States aid. In the long run the loss of Southeast Asia, especially Malaya and Indonesia, could result in such economic and political pressures in Japan as to make it extremely difficult to prevent Japan’s eventual accommodation to the Soviet Bloc, (I, 375).

This, of course, within a context where, as Chomsky points out, “Japan (in those years) was not [. . .] perceived as an immediate rival [by the US]; in fact, until 1965 Japan always had an unfavorable trade balance with the United States.” Hence, (as should be expected by now) the economic fate of Japan was important because it was part of American national interests. With the catch (always!), however, that US capital must, in the end, reign triumphant. Chomsky reads more of the papers:

Japanese liberalization is proceeding, and if the outcome of the competition between U.S. and Japanese capital may be in doubt, it should not be forgotten that quite apart from questions of scale, the U.S. holds many cards, for example, control of most of Japan’s sources of petroleum. In any event, prior to the full-scale U.S invasion of South Vietnam, with its vast and unanticipated costs, it was quite reasonable to suppose that Japan would remain, for some time, a reasonably well-behaved junior partner in the American-dominated system.

At a broader level, however, the threat presented by the USSR and China—and Communism in general—was (of course!) the curtailing/hampering of the free market.

To avoid this, the US must—and did—take certain steps:

The Joint Chiefs urged “long-term measures to provide for Japan and the other offshore islands a secure source of food and other strategic materials from non-Communist held areas in the Far East” (I, 336, April, 1950; they also recommended military aid and covert operations).

In the 1950s Japan was pressured to break trade relations with China, and [. . .] access to Southeast Asia was explicitly offered as an inducement.

The United States, like Britain in the period of its world dominance, tends towards the “imperialism of free trade,” while maintaining the practice of state intervention for the benefit of special interests and demanding special rights (as in the Philippines) where they can be obtained.

“To see installed a self-governing nationalist state which will be friendly to the U.S. and which . . . will be patterned upon our conception of a democratic state”, and will be associated “with the western powers . . .”

“Some kind of regional association . . . among the non-Communist countries of Asia might become an important means of developing a favorable atmosphere for such trade among themselves and with other parts of the world [except, that is, for the USSR and China, and oriented, of course, towards the US].”

A new ‘co-prosperity sphere’ congenial to U.S. interests and incorporating Japan . . .

Well, obviously, that’s a free market we—(when push comes to shove,) with bombs—are trying so heroically to institute and uphold. I mean, shouldn’t that have been obvious? Isn’t there a fundamental contradiction with the very fact that we have to institute and uphold what is supposedly a free market and, further, dictate which national markets are participating, how much, what goods, and with whom? Obviously all these things that we do—the economic agreements, the exclusion of our (Communist!) rivals, the military interventions—contribute to the self-regulating workings of the (invisible hand of the) free market!

There is a masterful trick implied (and entrenched) here that should not manage to fool us. These (neoclassical) champions of the free world market (led by the US—of course!) frequently hail (classical) economist Adam Smith, father of modern (micro)economics, as their predecessor, their model/idol (hence the implication that they are simply—innocently—following the (pure and original) tenets of economics as we know it, within the economic system (capitalism) that—whether we like it or not—we’re in (hence don’t have a choice, we have to follow its laws, which, guess what, have been traced and figured out by Adam Smith and the (originary) economics that he developed . . .)).

And the rule is quite simple (and easy to understand): Free market. That is to say: The market is efficient. It works well. So: Let it work by itself! Don’t tamper on it. Don’t even touch it. Let the market do its job! Anything you do would only disrupt it. It’s smart. It(s invisible hand) works miracles. It knows what it’s doing. You—especially if you happened to be a big government—will only make things worse! So: Hands off. Let it be. Just sit back and, well, laissez-faire.

But it’s not really true. It is not true.

Ever since the Great Depression of the 1930s, (and this applies even to the most conservative of mainstream economists, i.e. neoclassical economists) it is Adam Smith’s great rival in the academia, (liberal) economist John Maynard Keynes, father of macroeconomics, who has really won the age. Every government or other—wherever in the world, whatever political orientation, so long as participating in the capitalist (world) economy—Everyone tampers on the economy (for different purposes, of course: FDR built social welfare programs, Reagan busted labor unions)!

Thus what “free market” really means—by breaking down political and economic barriers (regardless of what a country’s purposes are for erecting them, even if that turned out to be, as it usually is the case (as in Vietnam), national economic development), sometimes by outright warfare (again, as in Vietnam)—what “free market” really means is a world market open—i.e. free to be entered, used, exploited (like a toy a rich kid gets every Christmas, only some governments want to make it Christmas everyday)—for the play of Western (mostly American) capital (the rich kid).

In other words, to make the world a free (i.e. no entrance/exit costs) playground for American capital—regardless of what the consequences are to the rest of the world—whether that be short-term economic spike in exchange for long-term growth, economic retardation in the long-run, increased inequality, the exploitation of natural resources, workplace abuse, poverty of the general populace, starvation, cultural conflicts, social unrest, environmental degradation, political instability, military warfare, destruction, devastation, waste . . .—so long as American capital reaps its profits—so long as, in other words, American capital remains free (to play yet again, play more, at an even bigger bigger scale . . .). Thus, what’s really free in the free market is: (voila!) American capital. And, again, we actively—aggressively, “liberally”—strive to bring that about. That is the nature of our intervention.

And everyone has pretty much bought this: Liberals, Conservatives, Socialists, Communists, even Third World political parties that have no ideological discipline . . . Despite what they say and despite all illusions, Conservatives (and their chameleons, the Libertarians) do not question this doctrine. In fact, inside their own country, they want big business to have even greater sway, to be even freer. The only government intervention that Conservatives question (when they talk of “Big business!”) is succor to the poor and, we should not forget, welfare programs for the general populace (oh, just unimportant things such as social security, public education, universal healthcare . . .). The leftwing parties posture concern for—and pander to—the general populace even as they prove to be (as big corporations fund their campaigns) the capital investments that yield the highest return (“Those corporate tax laws are too high. The next elections are coming up. Maybe you can do something about it . . .” “This tax relief is gonna be good for the people—but perhaps you can insert something in there for the big guys too . . .?”) and do not even bother (“If there’s business to be made there (that can be beneficial to (the elites of) both countries), why not a trade agreement?) to pose to the people outside their borders (except if these people happened to be potential citizens, i.e. new votes!). Even outside the Western world, everyone has pretty much accepted the (need to join the) “free market” (to play with the popular guy). This is one of the senses in which, as David Harvey likes to put it, “we have all become (neo)liberals.”

Which, there is nothing essentially wrong with that. Except it’s not really a free market. Not everyone (save for American capital) is really free. In fact, most are exploited by—in the name of, for the sake of—that very freedom.

The goal (of the (Keynesian) intervention) thus, after all, remains faithful to Adam Smith: the rational pursuit of (those who knows how it works and who has configured the system such that they reap the most benefits, i.e. American) self-interest. One way, of course, in which all this has been veiled is through the transformation of Political Economy into Economics.

In other words, what the American-led (capitalist) economic sphere—which, it should be pointed out again, is the goal of the military force, the real purpose of the (Vietnam) war, the cause of the United States—really means is an economic sphere that primarily benefits the US (first of all, of course— by way of the US capital that they hold—them first-class Americans). NSC and JCS memoranda put this in more sophisticated terms when they propose that “Southeast Asian countries be integrated into the free world economic system (ibid., 1206, 1228, 1234, 1288),” where, as we’ve seen, free means free for American intervention so as, again in the words of the Pentagon Papers, to improve “investment climate for U.S. capital.”

In other words, US capital (again, owned by them, the first-class Americans) is really what it all boils down to. US capital is the reason American imperial wars are waged. US capital is the cause for which we (are dragged into) go(ing) to war. Chomsky points this out when talking about something that, on the surface, seems to contradict the notion that some American empire goes to war to forward its economic interests, namely, the costs of war. He explains:

There are, to be sure, costs of empire that benefit virtually no one: 50,000 American corpses or the deterioration in the strength of the U.S. economy relative to its industrial rivals. The costs of empire to the imperial society as a whole may be considerable. These costs, however, are social costs, whereas, say, the profits from overseas investment guaranteed by military success are again highly concentrated in certain special segments of the society that are generally well-represented in the formation of state policy. The costs of empire are in general distributed over the society as a whole, while its profits revert to a few within. In this respect, the empire serves as a device for internal consolidation of power and privilege, and it is quite irrelevant to observe that its social costs are often very great or that as costs rise, differences may also arise among those who are in positions of power and influence. While serving as a device for internal consolidation of privilege, the empire also provides markets, guaranteed sources of inexpensive raw materials, a cheap labor market, opportunities for export of pollution (no small matter for Japan, for example), and investment opportunities. On the assumptions of the domino theory, even in its more rational versions, the stakes in Vietnam in this regard were considerable.

The same fallacy is one of several that undermine the familiar argument that our economic stake in the “third world” is too slight a fraction of GNP to play any significant role in motivating third world interventions. The private interests that stand to gain from foreign intervention are undeterred by its social costs and will exert their often substantial influence to engage state power in support of their interests, however small a fraction of GNP they represent.

In other words, the social costs of war (which we—as regular taxpaying citizens—are all forced to bear) do not deter the holders of US capital, them first-class Americans (who stand to reap most of its profits—even when the social costs happen to be higher (they have others—i.e. us—to share that with, in addition to the unlimited budget deficit the government can incur (China’s there to buy them!))—which means, yes, even when the war is “lost”). No wonder, then, that some segments of the population make it a habit—a hobby—to beat the imperial war drums.

Chomsky moreover adds that “even [when . . .] the bill [of the war] is in, the [war] effort might be judged a moderate success for those segments of American society that have a major interest in preserving an “integrated global system” in which American capital can operate with reasonable freedom” if only because it preserved or even enlarged a “neocolonial global system.”

This is never pursued and presented in naked, straightforward terms, of course. In addition to the non-existent (logical and factual) connections that policy planners contrive, they take control of the very way in which it is expressed. They forge, in other words, both the content and its expression. This is accomplished as the whole thing—the real purpose, the American cause—gets couched in defensive terms. Chomsky explains:

To be sure, the imperial drive is often masked in defensive terms: it is not that we are seeking to dominate an integrated world system incorporating Japan, but rather that we must deny strategic areas to the Kremlin (or “Peiping”), thus protecting ourselves and others from their “aggression”. The masters of the Russian empire affect a similar pose, no doubt with equal sincerity and with as much justification. The practice has respectable historical antecedents, and the term “security” is a conventional euphemism. The planners merely seek to guarantee the security of the nation, not the interests of dominant social classes.

Chomsky follows this up sarcastically with:

There is, in fact, a sense in which th[is] “defensive” rhetoric is appropriate. It is natural for the managers of the world’s most advanced industrial superpower, organized more or less along capitalist lines, to seek free and open competition throughout the world in fair confidence that the interests they represent will tend to predominate. Thus they seek only to deny various areas to closed systems, national or imperial. The United States, like Britain in the period of its world dominance, tends towards the “imperialism of free trade,” while maintaining the practice of state intervention for the benefit of special interests and demanding special rights (as in the Philippines) where they can be obtained (my emphasis).

This, then, is the guiding principle behind American intervention in the world. Which, as Chomsky notes, also explains its selective nature:

It is not too difficult to discern a criterion that serves rather well to determine which elements in foreign lands receive support, and which are labeled enemies. It is surely not the humanitarian impulse; nor is it the prospects for development that determine the official U.S. response: China or Cuba might well have profited from capital grants for development—more so, at least, than from blockade, invasion, and harassment. Nor is it the fear of our great power rivals that leads us to intervene half way around the world, as is plainly shown by the determined effort to prove that Russia and China were responsible for the “internal aggression” in Vietnam, in the face of the evidence that they were not, and analogous efforts in the Caribbean and elsewhere. Nor do democratic or authoritarian rule, bloodthirstiness, aggressiveness, or a threat to U.S. security (in a proper sense of the term) provide a plausible criterion. Brazil and South Africa are as vicious as they come, [but we support them]. The horrendous Indonesian massacre of 1965 was greeted with calm, and in some circles, the whole sequence of events evoked only polite applause. China has been the least aggressive of the great powers. The Viet Minh and the Pathet Lao are hardly a threat to U.S. security. Fascist Japan was no doubt an aggressive power—in some ways, not unlike the U.S. today—but the U.S. was prepared to seek a modus vivendi in 1939 provided that U.S. rights and interests on the mainland were guaranteed. And fascist Greece is quite all right today; it plays its NATO role, provides bases for U.S. naval forces, and as an added attraction, there is—as Secretary of Commerce Maurice Stans put it so lyrically not long ago—”the welcome that is given here to American companies and the sense of security the Government of Greece is imparting to them.” Friends and enemies can be identified, to a rather good first approximation, in terms of their role in maintaining an integrated global economy in which American capital can operate with relative freedom (my emphases).

Again: free market = freedom for American capital (to . . .).

This also explains, Chomsky adds, why Communism is “the enemy”:

The so-called “communist” powers are particularly evil because their “do-it-yourself” model of development tends to extricate them from this system. For this reason, even European colonialism, which was bad enough, is preferable to indigenous Communism. For the same reason, Washington will prefer a Trujillo to a Castro.

The Study Group of the Woodrow Wilson Foundation and the National Planning Association was perceptive, and more honest than many contemporary ideologists, when it described the primary threat of communism as the economic transformation of the communist powers “in ways which reduce their willingness and ability to complement the industrial economies of the West,” their refusal to play the game of comparative advantage and to rely primarily on foreign investment for development. If the “developing nations” choose to use their resources for their own purposes, or to carry out internal social change in ways which will reduce their contribution to the industrial economies of the state capitalist world, these powers must be prepared to employ sufficient force to prevent such unreasonable behavior, which will no doubt be described as “internal aggression” by agents of international communism. The Soviet Union reacts no differently when Czechoslovakia seeks a degree of independence or social change (my emphasis).

—I’m sorry, I just got what you said. The military goal, the real reason, the real purpose, the American cause—our cause for intervening in the world, for going to war, is to gain access for, to ensure the extension of, to ensure the accumulation of—US capital, which is—Hell, I don’t own any!—held by them first-class Americans?

I’m sorry . . .

What?

We get dragged down by our own government in a quagmire for years and years to come and whenever we travel in the world it’s like we have this blotch on our face—not to mention that we have to bear most of the (social) costs, sacrifice other (oh-so-unimportant) services (not) provided by the State (higher education, healthcare, work benefits)—as they—and they don’t even send their own kind to war!—reap the actual (private) benefits?

What???

—But realization (Eurek—) may not come just yet. More icing, as it were, is put on the cake (so that we don’t see what it’s really made of). An enemy (in this case, “Communism”) is created (and demonized)—set against, of course, our own values, what we hold dear: US, ourselves (“democracy”, as is always the case (which is but a codename for the capitalist economy of self-interest)).

This, Chomsky explains, performs a function:

Anti-communism provides a convenient mythology to justify colonial wars, and to gain the popular support that is often hard to rally, given the grisly nature and substantial costs of such endeavors [even though] to explain the U.S. attack on Vietnam on grounds of anti-communist delusions would be as superficial as explaining the Russian invasion of Czechoslovakia or Hungary merely on grounds of fear of West Germany or Wall Street. No doubt, at some level, the Soviet leadership believes what it says, and is bewildered at the bitter reaction to its selfless and benevolent behavior. Perhaps Russian public opinion indeed “is proud of its country’s armed power in Prague and speaks of Czechoslovak weakness, ingratitude, irresponsibility, etc.” Similarly, Washington claims to be defending democracy and warding off “internal aggression” or subversion by agents of international communism when it helps to destroy a mass popular movement in Greece, supports an invasion of Guatemala, invades the Dominican Republic, and devastates the peasant societies of Indochina, inter alia.

The real reasons, if they were presented, simply would not cut it. As Chomsky elaborates, the real reasons

would have appeared too cynical, if stated frankly. Therefore it was necessary to recast the issue in “defensive” terms, and to establish that these nationalist forces were really the agents of aggression by an international conspiracy, aimed ultimately at destroying the freedom of the United States itself. The “intelligence community” thus took upon itself, or perhaps was assigned the task of demonstrating the thesis that was required as the ideological underpinning of the U.S. intervention. It is interesting, but not very surprising given the background, that the failure of intelligence to establish the needed link in no way impeded the ideologists, who simply continued to insist that the required thesis was correct, accepting and proclaiming it as an Article of Faith. The same pattern has appeared elsewhere, with predictable regularity (my emphasis).

Then, to make the case (sound) urgent, (explosive) candles are added. That is to say, fear mongering is employed. In Vietnam, this took the form of the “test case” argument. Chomsky explains:

In the analyst’s phrase, referring to the February deliberations, “Stopping Hanoi from aiding the Viet Cong virtually became equated with protecting U.S. interests against the threat of insurgency throughout the world” (III, 153). Ralph Stavins hardly exaggerated when he describes the “clouds on the horizon” as seen from Washington in the early 1960s: “Hanoi would overthrow Diem with a few guerrilla bands, and the United States, as a direct consequence, would be forced to retire from the arena of world politics.” Such fears were incorporated into the important NSAM 288 of March 1964, which presented what the analyst calls “a classic statement of the domino theory” (III, 3). Throughout the world, it held, “the South Vietnam conflict” is regarded as a test case of U.S. capacity to help a nation to meet the Communist ‘war of liberation’. Thus, purely in terms of foreign policy, the stakes are high . . .” The Memorandum stated in clear terms that “We seek an independent non-Communist South Vietnam” free to accept outside—meaning, American—assistance, including “police and military help to root out and control insurgent elements.” And it stated that unless we can achieve this objective, “almost all of Southeast Asia will probably fall under Communist dominance” or “accommodate to Communism,” with an increased threat to India, Australia, Japan, and indeed, throughout the world, given that the conflict is a “test case.”

But candles do eventually get blown or die out—at which time we see whether, in fact, they explode or not. In the case of Vietnam, as it turns out, the candles could indeed potentially cause pain—but not to the entity feigning concern for them. Chomsky demonstrates this in one of his brilliant argument reversals:

Vietnam was indeed to serve as a test case. Developing countries were to be taught a harsh lesson. They must observe the rules of the international system as determined by the powerful—who, like many a stern disciplinarian, saw themselves as benign, even noble in intention. Developing countries must not undertake “national liberation” on the Chinese model, extricating themselves from the international system dominated by Western and Japanese state capitalism, with mass mobilization, a focus on internal needs, and exploitation of material and human resources for internal development. If they are so foolhardy as to disobey the international rules, they will be subjected to subversion, blockade, or even outright destruction by the global judge and executioner (my emphases).

Similarly, icing is, to put it simply, but icing. Chomsky gets to the cake as, one by one, he undermines all the added coloring/flavoring. First, the threat of Communism:

Opposition to indigenous movements that might pursue the so-called “Communist” model of development, extricating their societies from the international capitalist system, is not “blind anti-communism,” strictly speaking. It may be “anti-communism,” but it is far from blind. Rather, it is rational imperialism which seeks to prevent the erosion of the world system dominated by Western and Japanese capital. On the other hand, reference to a “coordinated offensive directed by the Kremlin” against Southeast Asia in 1949 (NSC 48/1) or to the “militant and aggressive expansionist policy advocated by the present rulers of Communist China” (George Carver of the CIA) is, indeed, blind anti-communism—or to be more precise, it is perhaps blind, but is not anti-communism at all. Rather, it is pure imperial ideology, beyond the reach of evidence or debate, a propaganda device to rally domestic support for military intervention against indigenous communist-led movements” (my emphases).

Then, quoting Connel-Smith, the cause of “democracy”:

“United States concern for representative democracy in Latin America is a facet of her anti-communist policy. There has been no serious question of her intervening in the case of the many right-wing military coups, from which, of course, this policy generally has benefited. It is only when her own concept of democracy, closely identified with private, capitalistic enterprise, is threatened by communism that she has felt impelled to demand collective action to defend it” (op. cit., p. 343-4) (my emphasis).

As for the cause of humanitarianism and concerns about security:

Or perhaps our humanitarian interests, as measured by the aid flow, were stirred by the incidence of state violence and torture in Brazil under the new regime, or perhaps by the significant decline in the share of GNP of the bottom 80% of the population, and the reported decline in wages for most workers that accompanied the significant rise in production under “a dictatorship, established to protect the privileges of a small property-owning class and to assure the growing control of the nation’s economy by imperialistic interests.” As for the security objectives, the fear that Brazil under Goulart posed a security threat to the United States seems a bit far-fetched; and as far as Brazil itself is concerned, the military perceive no external threat to the country, so that the extensive American military aid is clearly either for “internal security”—that is, protection of the regime, whose acts have so awakened our humanitarian concerns, from its own population—or for threats against Brazil’s neighbors, in particular, those neighbors who might choose to jeopardize the closely related economic interests of the Brazilian privileged elite and American investors” (my emphases).

Which, of course, is classic Chomskyan sarcasm—leading to the (tragic) conclusion that:

We are, I am afraid, reduced to the first objective: the protection and expansion of “our” economic interests in the hemisphere (my emphasis).

This is not to say that Chomsky does not welcome a complex of other factors in explaining why the United States goes to war, but he does holds on to the basic argument. As he explains,

It may be argued, with justice, that this view is no more than a first approximation to a general understanding of foreign policy, and omits many second-order considerations. Thus it would not be correct to claim that formation of foreign policy is in the interests of a monolithic corporate elite. On the contrary, there are conflicting interests. But we would expect to find, and do find, that those interests that are particularly concerned with foreign policy are well-represented in foreign policy-formation. By similar dynamics, regulatory agencies tend to fall into the hands of industries that are particularly concerned with their decisions. It is, furthermore, no doubt true that at some point ideology takes on a motive force of its own. There are other interacting, and for the most part mutually supportive factors: the interest of the “state management” in the Pentagon in enhancing its own power; the role of government-induced production of rapidly-obsolescing luxury goods (largely military) as a technique of economic management, with a resulting need to secure strategic raw materials; the usefulness of an external enemy as a device to whip the taxpayer into line, in support of the production of waste and the costs of empire; the heady sense of power, to which academic ideologues in particular seem to succumb so readily. Such factors as these produce a fairly stable system to support the basic imperial drive, which is second nature to the men of power in the state executive in any event. There are many specific factors that must be considered in a detailed examination of particular decisions, such as those that led us ever more deeply into Indochina.

Nevertheless, it seems reasonably clear that American policy, like that of any great power, is guided by the “national interest” as conceived by dominant social groups, in this case, the primary goal of maximizing the free access by American capital to the markets and human and material resources of the world, the goal of maintaining to the fullest possible extent its freedom of operation in a global economy. At the same time, ideologists labor to mask these endeavors in a functional system of beliefs (my emphases).

In other words (again!):

We are, I am afraid, reduced to the first objective: the protection and expansion of “our” economic interests (my emphasis).

Thus we are never presented with the precise information, the accurate intelligence. The (real!) reason is simply—calculatedly—never—could not be presented—at least openly. And it is this— the true motivation, the driving force behind American wars of empire—that overrides all other considerations that are, quite simply, not important enough: the invaded country’s (own) (economic) interests, the urgency (and reality!) of the purported threat, the practicability of achieving the goal, even the effects (the “social costs”) of the proposed course of action to the State’s own citizens (i.e. US)—All that simply does not live up to—simply does not matter, is simply insignificant to—“our” ostensible economic interests, which is to say: the unbridled free sway of American capital in the world.

This really is the crux of the matter, isn’t it? This is why the US, the modern, the undisputed (sole) superpower in the world, gets embroiled—messily, if we may add (especially when the planner doesn’t know what he’s doing)—in these small, seemingly insignificant states in the middle of nowhere. These small states are seen as the key (the “test-case”) that opens the door to a whole economic region that until then has been closed to American business interests, places that US capital has not yet penetrated. And—of course—it must go even there.

Against the closure (non-participation in the “free world”) of these (stubborn! loner!) states, the US endorses (beats the drums for) an open-door policy, a “free market”—which, as we’ve seen, really means a market open to American interests—and, it must be pointed out, not—i.e. closed—to the interests of its enemies. Thus (for Vietnam) no trading with the Soviet Union. No trading with China. And—of course, this is a given—the US as the main beneficiary (always the winner in globalization) (Otherwise, (as with Japan) we do have some other leverage . . .) (And, if that works no more, if we have no cards left to play, well, roll it back: “We are gonna create American jobs here at home . . .”).

Indeed, that is some kind of “open.” Truly (in a universe dominated by the superpower—who owns the world) that is “free”. After all, in a free market, the local/national markets are not to be entrusted with the important—crucial!—task of deciding with whom to “open up” to, what goods to produce, how much to trade—No, no. The US, the “free” market authority—in fact, the authoritative “free” market—decides that best.

And we have succeeded in this in the past. As Yoshie of Lenin’s Tomb points out, back in World War II, Japan was a successful invasion—the “model occupation”—where the imperial strategy was seen to work. Thus Japan provides America with a good memory—the memory of a past war in which it had been right, in which it had liberated another, and, most importantly, in which it ended the war with a favorable trade balance, a good balance sheet, strong economic ties (that benefited both countries, but especially—of course—American capital). Hence (to quote Yoshie) the line of thinking that goes:

No matter how disastrous occupation[s . . .] become, it doesn’t curb the enthusiasm for other interventions, for the myth of the model occupation [i.e. Japan] tells them seductively: select the right target and employ the right tactics, and you will be a liberator again.

To which we may add: And accumulate even more capital . . .

It’s time now for a mental experiment. Let’s change some of the terminology we’ve been using (at least those referring to the “enemy”). Let’s try and “update” them. Replace “ties with the Communist powers (the USSR and China)” with “ties with terrorist groups (Al Qaeda).” Replace “plans for (internal) economic development” with “weapons of mass destruction.” Replace “natural resources” with “oil.” Replace “internal aggression (of agents of international communism)” with “internal repression (by a cruel and heartless dictator).” Replace “self-determination from aliens” with “freedom from a tyrant.” Replace “Communism” with “(Islamic fundamentalist) terrorism.” Replace “Southeast Asia” with “the Middle East.” Move the date forward four decades later. And then replace “Vietnam” with “Iraq.”

Alas, some of the words (those referring to US) do not need to be changed at all! Rational pursuit of self-interest = Rational pursuit of self-interest. An American-led (capitalist) economic sphere = An American-led (capitalist) economic sphere (but this time, + open access to oil). US capital = US capital. First-class Americans = First-class Americans.

Then, the most lethal ones: Self-defense = Self-defense. Test-case (the first domino (to fall to Eastern Communism)) = Test-case (birthplace of democracy (in the Middle East)). Security = Security. Humanitarianism = Humanitarianism. Free Market = Free Market. Democracy = Democracy.

Different places. Different “enemies.” Same war. Same quagmire. Same rhetorical tactics. Same logical strategies. Sometimes even the same policy planners. Most of all, the same reasons, the same purpose: the American cause (of the free unbridled pursuit of (the) self-interest (of capital)).

No wonder, then, the newspapers did the same thing. They were simply responding to and following the lead of the State (for which, after all, they are one of the apparatuses). The government has been doing the same thing all along. And it will continue to do the same thing (except it might grow even more sophisticated with (might know a better company where to buy) the kind of icing it puts on the cake). It is true, then, that the basic (polyarchal) structure of the system has a way of rigidly remaining, of preserving itself—of staying the same (both what the State does and the state of things: the State)?—Except, that is, for the bifurcation that Deleuze sees, the singularity to be witnessed—or, in another word, at another time, what Marx has called the Revolution—which, in simple terms, is, well: US not letting the State get away with it! But we all know we can only hope for that—in fact, we are distracted from doing even that.

—But, you know, they’re really not so bad. They give us enough here, like that housing bill they just passed, the tax rebates . . . We’re happy with our lives, not everyone can be Donald Trump. There’s no need to protest, really. And it’s pointless anyway. I’ll just go on with my (own) life . . .—By give, you really mean bribe, right? And the housing bill, you mean the bill that gave us homeowners some relief but whose main beneficiaries are the homebuilders to, sure, build more houses when there’s so much already no one’s buying them, not to mention automakers and airlines who have not a f**king thing to do with housing—this by the Congress dominated by the (Democratic) party that claims to speak for our interest, the party that claims to have in mind us regular Americans!?? And the tax rebates, you mean George Bush’s tax cuts most of which went—and continue to go—to, what, the top 10% of the population—(again!) them first-class Americans on Wall Street whose hedge funds are—as a matter of fact—winning—and winning big—by betting against the housing market!??

—But no, no! You’re still talking like them. It’s like you’re trapped in their discourse: Self-interest. My interests. Money. Me.

—What about this: Our soldiers, they’re our “own,” right? They’re one of “us.” So we care about what they go through in the battlefield (as with Voodoo company) and when they get home (like Tomas Young)—Right? Or, since we ourselves are not in the battlefield, since we ourselves are not soldiers, do we extricate ourselves from “them” too, narrow down what we consider our “own,” narrow down whose (self-)interests we’re thinking about, narrow down (“specify” exactly) who’s one of “us,” exclude even them from that, that is to say, make American soldiers (like un-Americans, e.g. Iraqis)—portray them, think of them also as “others”—i.e. as an other (separate, different from our “own,” from US)—that then enables us to say, “That would never happen to me. I’m just too smart. And, and! They chose to go there. Nobody forced them. It was their choice. There’s no draft. They enlisted on their own . . . Now, if there are consequences to their actions, that’s their . . .”

The Frontline documentary that sums up the Iraq war is informative and good—but there is a way in which it can serve (like oh-so-many other things) as a distraction. The documentary focuses on the power plays, the (heavyweight!) political infighting (and the careers won and lost), the military and administrative (lack of) strategies, and, once there, possible ways to get out—in other words, all the talk was about logistics, that is to say, how the war was executed (and what a failure it was). The fundamental causes of the war (except for the reasons that the administration gave us), whether it was justified or not (to begin with!), the underlying real purposes—there was not much about that. There was not much—hardly anything, really—if any—about why we (really) went to war in Iraq the first place. Nothing at all about the American cause: (presumptively) our cause.

It is as though—by focusing on strategy and logistics—we can avoid the more difficult question—as though—if only the strategy was right, if only the execution was irreproachable, if only the war had been waged competently—that would have made everything all right. As though—if only we succeeded, if only things had gone well as we were promised they would—that would have justified our cause. As though—if only we had gotten away with it—that would have made what we’ve done moral.

—Sure, it’s moral. We have every right to go wherever in the world, enter somebody else’s house, and pursue the enemies we created. We own the world, right? OK, so there’s no threat there. But (still) we have every right to go in there and, well, get some of that oil! There’s just so much . . . Enough for everyone (but, especially, for us)! American businesses have every right to do all that they can—even if it means using the State, its war machine, to destroy another State—to, well, get some business, let American capital through! That’s just fair competition! Free market! And, after all, it is for us. For our cities. Our cars. For everything (in our modern lives), in fact. It is, as it turns out, our interests, after all: American national interests! Yeah, yeah, I know, the pursuit of self-interest is, I know, also known by its other name: greed. Yeah, sure. Wall Street knows that. Economists know that. The government knows that. Everyone knows that. So greed is the fundamental tenet I follow, the basic value by which I live my life. So what? I don’t feel bad about it. I live quite well, thank you very much. Who are you to moralize? Who do you think you are? We fight them over there so that we don’t have to fight them here. That’s right! Exceptional America! What? What about them? Well, tough luck! They don’t live in America. They’re not Americans. We’re the superpower, what can they do? That is just how it works. Sure, bombs fall on innocent men and women and children who probably also hated Saddam and was suffering miserably under him—Sure, I’m sure that happens. I mean, I don’t see it much on the news, but I’m sure, of course—I know it happens. That’s what happens in wars. Stuff happens! But so what? Better them than me. Better them than me. Self-interest, right? I think about my own (and maybe also the soldiers). My interests. Myself. Greed. And, frankly, after that there’s not much else I can think about. But I’m sure they’ll benefit, too. The Ira—what do you call them, again? How do you even pronounce their name? It’s so weird! And, by the way, where is their country again? I can’t freakin’ find it on the map! I’m being seriously stupid right now! (Giggles.) Cool, huh? Anyway, as I was saying: they’ll benefit too. Wealth will trickle down to them. Someday. Maybe. (But who cares, really? I don’t.) See, it’s not so bad. It’s a good world after all!

So we do know the (real) reason. We do know our cause. We just excuse it with the way we live: the (free) pursuit of self-interest—my own, of course . . .