October was the deadliest month for United States forces in Afghanistan since the conflict began in 2001. Over 50% of Americans support a general withdrawal. Amidst financial panic at home, Americans are, more than ever, questioning the war’s long-term goals. This week, President Obama is expected to heed General McChrystal’s (distressingly public) request and send at least 30,000 additional American troops into the war zone.
Perhaps it is fitting that CNN.com ran a piece today on Michael White, a suburban Atlantan who created the now infamous icasualties.org website. White has kept count of all American, coalition, and civilian deaths since the Iraq War began in 2003 (he later began counting the Afghan War dead as well). The piece asserts that “[casualty statistics] are critical to shaping the legacy of wars.” This led me to question the precise correlation between death tolls (raw data, numbers) and civilian perceptions of war.
One of the most palpable factoids surrounding the American Civil War is that it “accounted for more American deaths [620,000+] than all U.S. wars from the Revolution through Vietnam.” Every school child has been exposed to this declaration in some form, and it continues to shape popular opinions of the war. Similarly, many Americans are aware of that iniquitous number – 416,000 – that represents American deaths between 1941 and 1945. Yet the American wars that cost the most (the Civil War and WWII) are viewed as the most worthy. They did eradicate slavery and fascism, or so the story goes. But is there a political element to rationalizing casualties by emphasizing that they solve social issues? Is this essential to a pro-war ideology? What is the common denominator here?
First off, we must bring to light the conspicuous: numbers never tell the entire story. Although a recent thread on h-civwar.org doubted the usefulness of lumping Union and Confederate casualties together (an argument I find abhorrent), the customary figure of Civil War deaths is roughly 620,000 (even if many historians have compellingly argued that it is much higher). That numeral, 620,000, represented 600 deaths per day and 2% of the total American population. Likewise, approximately 416,000 Americans were killed in World War Two at a rate of just over 400 per day. But that number accounted for less than 2% of all casualties between 1939 and 1945 and just .32% of the U.S. population. In the midst of a global, industrial, and, in many places, total conflict, it was but a blip on the human toll radar. American economic might, of course, was far more decisive than American bodies. The point remains, however, that casualties are always relative. Moreover, Americans in the past have tolerated extreme and punctuated killing so long as public opinion holds firm and the ensuing carnage achieves its “political aims,” fabricated or manipulated though they may be.
So, societies, even democracies, tolerate losses in wars that they, for whatever reason, deem worthy. But what of the wars that are viewed as the least worthy? Like Iraq, Afghanistan has been compared to the Vietnam conflict ad nauseum. While I understand that Vietnam is still within the realm of the “remembered past” for many Americans (and thus explains much of its “felt legacy”), its statistical cost was comparatively low. In terms of deaths per day (one way to measure concentrated killing) World War One was fully 10 times deadlier than Vietnam. Korea, another “forgotten war,” was almost twice as deadly. Yet World War One (which has been popularly perceived as “someone else’s victory,” unlike WW II) and Korea (fought to attain a political goal that is no loner deemed urgent) are remembered most today for having been forgotten in American culture, despite their apparent bloodiness and moderate political successes. This then begs the question, “Is there any correlation between casualty lists and popular perceptions and felt history?” Vietnam was “low cost” in terms of American combat losses, or so the data assures me, but it still resonates within American society in tragic, tangible ways. Part of the explanation, I suppose, is not simply its failure to accomplish political ends or the fact that there was no way to sell it as a “victory,” but also the fear that we haven’t fully learned from it.
Clearly, the legacy of Vietnam was shaped less by raw data than by its strategic-political deficiencies and the exhaustion it enacted on American society. While I’m not going to fully engage the current historical debate as to whether Vietnam was ever “winnable,” I do agree that “victory” was unlikely by the time General Abrams replaced General Westmoreland in 1968, despite Abrams’ ostensibly capable counterinsurgency strategy. American public opinion – the most important component – had already turned. Similarly, despite the potential efficacy of McChrystal’s strategy, I suspect that the forthcoming surge will prove but a temporary bailout and that the legacy of Afghanistan – a war without popular support or clear political aims – has already been wrought.
Perhaps it is fitting that CNN.com ran a piece today on Michael White, a suburban Atlantan who created the now infamous icasualties.org website. White has kept count of all American, coalition, and civilian deaths since the Iraq War began in 2003 (he later began counting the Afghan War dead as well). The piece asserts that “[casualty statistics] are critical to shaping the legacy of wars.” This led me to question the precise correlation between death tolls (raw data, numbers) and civilian perceptions of war.
One of the most palpable factoids surrounding the American Civil War is that it “accounted for more American deaths [620,000+] than all U.S. wars from the Revolution through Vietnam.” Every school child has been exposed to this declaration in some form, and it continues to shape popular opinions of the war. Similarly, many Americans are aware of that iniquitous number – 416,000 – that represents American deaths between 1941 and 1945. Yet the American wars that cost the most (the Civil War and WWII) are viewed as the most worthy. They did eradicate slavery and fascism, or so the story goes. But is there a political element to rationalizing casualties by emphasizing that they solve social issues? Is this essential to a pro-war ideology? What is the common denominator here?
First off, we must bring to light the conspicuous: numbers never tell the entire story. Although a recent thread on h-civwar.org doubted the usefulness of lumping Union and Confederate casualties together (an argument I find abhorrent), the customary figure of Civil War deaths is roughly 620,000 (even if many historians have compellingly argued that it is much higher). That numeral, 620,000, represented 600 deaths per day and 2% of the total American population. Likewise, approximately 416,000 Americans were killed in World War Two at a rate of just over 400 per day. But that number accounted for less than 2% of all casualties between 1939 and 1945 and just .32% of the U.S. population. In the midst of a global, industrial, and, in many places, total conflict, it was but a blip on the human toll radar. American economic might, of course, was far more decisive than American bodies. The point remains, however, that casualties are always relative. Moreover, Americans in the past have tolerated extreme and punctuated killing so long as public opinion holds firm and the ensuing carnage achieves its “political aims,” fabricated or manipulated though they may be.
So, societies, even democracies, tolerate losses in wars that they, for whatever reason, deem worthy. But what of the wars that are viewed as the least worthy? Like Iraq, Afghanistan has been compared to the Vietnam conflict ad nauseum. While I understand that Vietnam is still within the realm of the “remembered past” for many Americans (and thus explains much of its “felt legacy”), its statistical cost was comparatively low. In terms of deaths per day (one way to measure concentrated killing) World War One was fully 10 times deadlier than Vietnam. Korea, another “forgotten war,” was almost twice as deadly. Yet World War One (which has been popularly perceived as “someone else’s victory,” unlike WW II) and Korea (fought to attain a political goal that is no loner deemed urgent) are remembered most today for having been forgotten in American culture, despite their apparent bloodiness and moderate political successes. This then begs the question, “Is there any correlation between casualty lists and popular perceptions and felt history?” Vietnam was “low cost” in terms of American combat losses, or so the data assures me, but it still resonates within American society in tragic, tangible ways. Part of the explanation, I suppose, is not simply its failure to accomplish political ends or the fact that there was no way to sell it as a “victory,” but also the fear that we haven’t fully learned from it.
Clearly, the legacy of Vietnam was shaped less by raw data than by its strategic-political deficiencies and the exhaustion it enacted on American society. While I’m not going to fully engage the current historical debate as to whether Vietnam was ever “winnable,” I do agree that “victory” was unlikely by the time General Abrams replaced General Westmoreland in 1968, despite Abrams’ ostensibly capable counterinsurgency strategy. American public opinion – the most important component – had already turned. Similarly, despite the potential efficacy of McChrystal’s strategy, I suspect that the forthcoming surge will prove but a temporary bailout and that the legacy of Afghanistan – a war without popular support or clear political aims – has already been wrought.
I'm not convinced that casualty rates are that important in influencing perceptions of wars. I'm inclined to believe that high casualty rates are acceptable in popular wars and even low casualty rates are unacceptable when the fighting is either unpopular or over something that doesn't concern most Americans. In World War II, Americans fought for the ideological goal of defeating fascism, but they also were defending the U.S. which had been attacked by one of the Axis powers. Likewise, in the Civil War, the Union army had both an ideological goal (emancipation) and a practical goal (saving the Union) and the Confederates had their own counter to each. In Vietnam and Korea, Americans fought only for an ideological goal - curbing Communist expansion. We are only willing to lose so many lives for an idea.
ReplyDeleteWhether a war is being "won" or "lost" is also important. For the North in the Civil War and the U.S. in World War II, the loss of life was accompanied by military victory. In Vietnam, the loss of life seemed pointless. The Confederate cause lost support once the war stopped going their way. It's easier to accept casualties when there are other visible achievements as balance.
I agree. Public tolerance for casualties seems responsive to a sort of cost-benefit analysis that involves everything from media coverage to domestic imperatives to how political leaders sell the war. Of course, some societies seemingly have little choice; those that are threatened more immediately are forced to fight on even in the face of unimaginable casualty rates (France in WWI, for example). It is also important to note that the disclosure of combat casualties to the general public is a relatively new thing. Stalinist Soviet Union and Imperial Japan intentionally buried or manipulated casualty reports during WWII, as did almost every other nation (I’d like to know more about this if anyone can point me in the right direction). Even during the Iraq, journalists and members of Congress have accused the Pentagon of intentionally blurring the lines between “battle” and “non-battle” injuries or covering them up altogether. Moreover, the very concept of what constitutes a “casualty” is often a matter of debate. Things such as shifting borders, civil and ethnic wars within larger wars, and “combat” vs. “non-combat” related casualties assure its ambiguity.
ReplyDeleteWhat I’m also struck by is the notion of fighting for ideas versus fighting for practical aims. I’m not so sure that the concept of union during the Civil War didn’t also contain a strong ideological component (it was as much a theory as a reality) or that there weren’t elements of the American strategy of containment that were perceived as fully practical (this was a society that assumed the domino theory was real after all).
I would add the fact that media coverage is now so extensive and up to the minute that I'm sure it plays a major role in the affect each casualty now holds. Meaning 1 casualty in Iraq or even during Vietnam hit home more to the average American than the 1 casualty in WW2 or Civil War.
ReplyDeleteIt seems a main problem and reason for the unpopularity for the current wars we are involved in is lack of clear ideals and motivations. We literally preemptively started a war with another country. Craziness! And now are involved in a nation building/"terrorist" destroying war. Whatever that means. Does anybody know our goal?
When is there really a difference between fighting for ideas or practical aim? Other than perhaps land or resources, wouldn't most the time it be the same? Would fighting for independence be an ideal or practical aim? Would fighting to free a people from a dictatorship and replace with a republic be an ideal or practical aim?