a look at the history of two U.S. wars (fwd)

---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Mon, 26 Apr 1999 12:23:10 -0400 (EDT)
From: Joanne Naiman <jnaiman@acs.ryerson.ca>
To: PROGRESSIVE SOCIOLOGISTS NETWORK <psn@csf.colorado.edu>
Subject: a look at the history of two U.S. wars (fwd)

fyi

Joanne Naiman
Toronto


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Date: Sat, 24 Apr 1999 17:17:40 -0400
From: Eric Fawcett <fawcett@physics.utoronto.ca>
To: sfp lists <sfpcan@physics.utoronto.ca>, sfpint@physics.utoronto.ca,
    sfpont@physics.utoronto.ca, sfptor@physics.utoronto.ca
Subject: a look at the history of two U.S. wars


1] How the U.S./NATO war on Yugoslavia was planned, with parallels to 1930's

and

2] U.S. Hypocrisy and Genocide in Cambodia.
===========================================================================

1] The Big Lie About Kosovo
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
   by Richard Poe                                   April 14, 1999

"Save the Albanian Kosovars!" Clinton cries. "Save the Sudeten Germans!"
Hitler trumpeted in 1938. The names have changed, but the strategy remains
the same.

For more than 50 years, we Americans have looked down our noses at the
Germans, for having followed Hitler so blindly. But now it's our turn. We
are proving no more resistant to propaganda than those cheering crowds in
Leni Riefenstahl's Triumph of the Will. Back in the 1930s, Adolf Hitler
needed an excuse to seize Czechoslovakia. So he invented one. Three and a
quarter million ethnic Germans lived in the Sudetenland, under Czech rule.
As William L. Shirer recounts in The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich,
Hitler secretly funded an extremist group called the Sudeten German Party
and ordered it to provoke an uprising against the Czechs.

Kosovo, too, appears to have been destabilized by outside forces. For
years, Kosovars protested Milosevic peacefully. But in 1997, a group
called the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA) suddenly started shooting. Who
were these people? The Times of London (March 24, 1999) described the KLA
as "a Marxist-led force funded by dubious sources, including drug money."
European police suspect the KLA of connections to Albanian gangsters. At
least two of the group's backers appear to have been the CIA and the
German spy agency BND, according to intelligence analyst John Whitley,
quoted in the Truth in Media Global Watch Bulletin (April 2, 1999).

The purpose of staging a provocation is to create a backlash. This
strategy certainly worked for Hitler in 1938. As unrest spread in the
Sudetenland, the Czechs cracked down. Czech President Eduard Benes ordered
troops into the region and declared martial law. Right on cue, the German
press went wild. "Women and Children Mowed Down by Armored Cars," ran a
typical Berlin newspaper headline in September 1938. "Poison Gas Attack on
Aussig" cried another.

Hitler accused Benes of waging a "war of extermination" against Sudeten
Germans. "The Germans he now drives out!" cried Hitler, in a September 16,
1938 speech. "We see the appalling figures: on one day 10,000 fugitives,
on the next 20,000... and today 214,000. Whole stretches of country were
depopulated, villages are burned down, attempts are made to smoke out the
Germans with hand-grenades and gas." Sound familiar? Hitler's rhetoric
bears an eerie resemblance to the CNN news blitz on Kosovo. Of course,
Hitler was exaggerating. Many of the atrocities he alleged later turned
out to be fabrications. But the same is true of our newscasts on Kosovo.

Take the alleged massacre of 45 Albanian civilians at Racak, for instance,
reported in January 1999. Forensic and other evidence now suggests that
the bodies were those of KLA guerrillas killed in combat. The hoax has
been widely discussed in the European press (including Le Monde, Die Welt,
Le Figaro and the BBC). But U.S. news outlets have been as silent on the
controversy as if they were taking orders from Goebbels himself.

In the Sudeten crisis, Hitler claimed to be inspired by internationalist
ideals. "Among the fourteen points which President Wilson promised ..."
the Fuhrer proclaimed, "was the fundamental principle of the
self-determination of all peoples ..." By freeing the Sudeten Germans,
Hitler argued, he was fulfilling Wilson's vision.

Clinton too claims he is fighting for human rights. But ethnic cleansing
does not bother Clinton when his friends are the ones doing the cleansing.
He ordered no bombing when the Croatians drove 300,000 Serbs from Krajina,
burning their homes and killing many. Nor did he intervene when our NATO
ally Turkey slaughtered over 35,000 Kurds.

Every schoolchild today knows that Hitler's real goal, in seizing
Czechoslovakia, was to use it as a stepping stone for his planned invasion
of Russia.

But what is Clinton's real interest in Kosovo? Nobody knows. Many theories
have been floated. Some point to the Trepca mines of northern Kosovo, rich
in gold, zinc, silver and lead. The New York Times called them the "Kosovo
war's glittering prize" (July 8, 1998).

Others see a more far-reaching strategy. The Russians claim that NATO,
like Hitler, wants to use the Balkans as a stepping stone for extending
its power eastward -- eventually meddling in the affairs of Russia itself.
But this is all speculation. Only time will reveal Clinton's true
intentions, as it ultimately did Hitler's.

In his memoir Inside the Third Reich, Albert Speer recalled the anxious
mood of Berliners, in September 1939, as they digested the news that
England and France had declared war. "The atmosphere was noticeably
depressed," he recalls. "The people were full of fear about the future.
None of the regiments marched off to war decorated with flowers as they
had done at the beginning of the First World War. The streets remained
empty. There was no crowd on Wilhelmsplatz shouting for Hitler."

A wise man once said that those who fail to study history are condemned to
repeat it. Should Clinton actually succeed in sparking a world war,
Americans will no doubt react with the same shock and fear as Berliners
did in 1939. But we will have only ourselves to blame.

Richard Poe is a freelance journalist and a New York Times-bestselling
author. He writes frequently on historical themes. Poe's latest book,
"Black Spark, White Fire", explores the Afrocentric controversy concerning
ancient Egypt.
============================================================================

2]  The Hypocrisy of U.S. Policy in War-Torn Cambodia
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    by Peter S. Goodman

    Washington Post, Sunday, January 10, 1999; Page C02 

Last month, when two Khmer Rouge leaders came out of the Cambodian jungle,
the U.S. State Department expressed outrage at the possibility the pair
might not be tried for genocide. On the surface, it appeared Washington
was taking a forthright stand for human rights, properly advocating
justice for mass murderers. Indeed, who could oppose such trials? In the
late 1970s, the Maoist-inspired Khmer Rouge killed as many as 2 million
Cambodians by execution, starvation and overwork. Surely, their leaders
must answer for these deaths.

Yet Washington's newfound sanctimony on the subject masks some disturbing
history: From 1979 to 1991, the United States leaned on the Khmer Rouge as
an instrument of foreign policy, using the remnants of the guerrilla force
to oppose the government installed in Cambodia by communist Vietnam. In
those days, American enmity toward Hanoi trumped the shame of backing
those responsible for the Cambodian genocide. But now that Cambodia is
largely irrelevant to American interests, the U.S. hypocritically lectures
about the need to bring the Khmer Rouge to justice.

Pursuing national self-interest through venal alliances is hardly new.
Neither is indulging in moral tones once such relationships shed their
utility. One need only look to the Philippines, where the U.S. government
backed Ferdinand Marcos for decades even as he plundered his country and
ran roughshod over basic citizens' rights, only to abandon him in his
final hour in the name of democracy. Saddam Hussein, too, was once an
American ally, a useful foil against Iran. And Manuel Noriega used to be
our man in Panama.

But the outrage last week at the prospect of Cambodian Prime Minister Hun
Sen granting amnesty to the newly surfaced Khmer Rouge commanders was a
reminder of the unsurpassed cynicism of our Cambodia policy over the past
three decades. Were it not for American intervention, the Khmer Rouge
might well have met justice long ago, on the battlefield or perhaps before
an international tribunal.

Cambodians first felt the impact of American interests in 1969, courtesy
of the Nixon administration's secret bombing campaign during the Vietnam
War. Vietnamese troops fighting the U.S.-backed government in Saigon were
taking sanctuary inside Cambodia; the United States responded by carpet
bombing the technically neutral country. Amid the resulting food shortages
and tides of refugees, the Khmer Rouge guerrillas thrived. They took the
Cambodian capital, Phnom Penh, in April 1975, two weeks before Saigon fell.

The years that followed were as cruel as any in human history. In theory,
the Khmer Rouge pursued a Utopian agrarian experiment. In deed, they
presided over slaughter. This reign of terror ended in 1979, when Vietnam
invaded Cambodia, chased the Khmer Rouge into eastern Thailand and
established a new government in Phnom Penh. For a dozen years thereafter,
the Khmer Rouge and other rebels sought to reclaim Cambodia. The
Vietnam-installed government, while corrupt and clearly under Hanoi's
thumb, also managed to craft functioning schools and health clinics.
Cambodia began a tentative recovery from its genocidal past.

The United States, fresh from its humiliating defeat in Vietnam, could not
sit quietly as Hanoi extended its reach. Direct U.S. support was
politically out of the question; only China offered the Khmer Rouge overt
military backing. Instead, Washington sent arms to the so-called
"non-communist alliance" made up of two other rebel armies--one led by
former Cambodian prime minister Son Sann, and the other by Prince Norodom
Sihanouk, who had been ousted in a U.S.-supported coup in 1970. U.S.
policymakers sold their new-found affection for Sihanouk as a vote for
Cambodian popular will.

But neither Sihanouk nor Son Sann controlled many troops, and neither army
did much fighting, as was clear to me and other reporters covering
Cambodia in the early 1990s. Both forces passed on many of their
U.S.-supplied weapons to the Khmer Rouge, who attacked villages nightly,
killing people and making off with rice and cattle before melting back
into the jungle. Privately, in Phnom Penh's cafes, Western diplomats
dropped the pretense and acknowledged the unmistakable: Support for
Sihanouk and Son Sann was support for the Khmer Rouge by other means.

In U.N.-supervised camps inside Thailand, the international community
nurtured the Khmer Rouge with "humanitarian assistance": food, medicine,
clothing--everything, short of weapons, needed to fight a war. Meanwhile,
on the international stage, the United States pressured its allies to deny
aid and recognition to the Phnom Penh government and supported Chinese
demands that the Khmer Rouge continue to control Cambodia's seat in the
United Nations. More than a decade after the fall of Saigon, the Vietnam
War was rolling on, fought by proxy forces. As one reporter put it, the
United States was fighting Vietnam to the last Cambodian.

But by the late 1980s, outside powers began losing interest in Cambodia
as a venue for geopolitical conflict. Vietnam withdrew its forces in 1989,
seeking to gain Washington's recognition. With the Cold War ending, the
United States and China were inclined to settle their differences and leave
Cambodia behind.

In 1991, the great powers convened with the warring Cambodian parties
around a conference table in Paris, striking an agreement for the
deployment of U.N. peacekeeping forces and, later, for an election. The
Vietnamese-installed government headed by Hun Sen resisted participation
by the Khmer Rouge in the elections. But China insisted they be included,
and the Bush administration concurred. At the time, relations with Beijing
took precedence over considerations of genocide. The Khmer Rouge quickly
soured on the accords and withdrew; civil war between the guerrillas and
Hun Sen's government continued. Though Hun Sen's party lost in elections
held in 1993, he clung to power by violence and intimidation.

Last month, as part of his ongoing effort to consolidate power, Hun Sen
engineered the defections of Khieu Samphan and Nuon Chea from the tattered
remnants of the Khmer Rouge, presumably in exchange for a promise of
amnesty. The U.S. State Department, unencumbered by irony, struck a
posture of outrage, asserting that "justice in Cambodia has long been
delayed, but must not now be denied." Under international fire, Hun Sen
reversed himself, calling for trials of Khieu Samphan and Nuon Chea, who
promptly retreated to a Khmer Rouge stronghold.

The reversal is welcome. Best to confront history, with all its pain and
awkwardness. It's a sentiment we in this country ought to follow, rather
than excise the critical role we played in the anguish that is modern
Cambodian history.

Peter Goodman, now a Washington Post Metro reporter, covered
Cambodia for several newspapers and magazines in the early 1990s. 

         © Copyright 1999 The Washington Post Company