To the Editor:

It is good to see Peter L. Berger publicly reevaluating his earlier position on the Vietnam war in the light of what has transpired there [“Indochina & the American Conscience,” February]; would that a host of other erstwhile critics would show the same integrity. Still, I do not think he penetrates to the heart of the controversies of those days in describing the current horror in Indochina merely as “contrary to what . . . [we] . . . expected,” for this sounds as though those debates had been conducted in a sober, thorough manner, and what has come to pass is . . . a total surprise. The fact is that there were many people around then who were cautioning against just this sort of outcome, and the question of central importance is why they were so willfully ignored, even ridiculed, at the time. The answer seems to be (and I too speak as a bloodied veteran of those debates) that such prognostications were dismissed as simply vaporous speculation about what might, perhaps, happen, and thus could not seriously be balanced against the actuality of napalmed children, My Lai, free-fire zones, and the rest of the usual recital of abominations. Only one motivation could have led one at the time to weigh the necessarily hypothetical possibility of future oppression against those all-too-graphic actualities, and that was the conviction that, as Mr. Berger phrases it: “The totalitarian regime . . . is by its very nature an ongoing assault on every human impulse of freedom” (emphasis added).

But such a condemnation-in-principle directly challenged the prevalent and tenaciously held fiction that Communism at its core is benevolent and the many warts encrusting its record are manifestations merely of historical accident or local circumstance, not of its essence. The truly awesome abuse visited upon those who then did warn that the people of Indochina might well be “subjected to suffering far worse than anything that was inflicted upon them by the United States and its allies” if the Communists won, can only be understood in the context of a compulsion to preserve and protect the myth. Sadly, there is little reason to believe that faith in this myth has been weakened by the latest events in Indochina. Certainly, the diligence with which many prominent war critics now evade all discussion of the issue . . . argues to the contrary.

William R. Havender
Berkeley, California

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To the Editor:

After apologizing for not apologizing, Peter L. Berger leads us down a convoluted trail of conscience far too twisted for me to follow. I suppose there is something to be said for confessing that perhaps our own survival is somehow linked to the demise of non-Communist governments in Southeast Asia, but his arguments make too fine a point. I also find it ironic that at the moment of truth Mr. Berger counted among his peers those who applauded and wildly cheered as South Vietnam walked to the gallows. . . .

Charles A. Krohn
Falls Church, Virginia

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To the Editor:

I write in reference to Peter L. Berger’s confession of “responsibility” for the fate of the Indochinese as a result of his participation in the anti-war movement. I am particularly disturbed by the ease with which he at once shoulders responsibility for that fate and then exculpates himself from any guilt in connection with it. While I am gratified to see a public conversion made on the subject, I am put off by the facility with which guilt is erased.

I am, quite obviously, convinced that it required in the late 60’s a willful suspension of reason to believe in the relative virtues of a prospective Communist victory over Thieu’s autocracy, even in the light of My Lai, the biased press, and all the rest. . . .

If a man feels himself to be in any part responsible for the death of another, much less two or so million others, guilt is inescapable if (a) the death was reasonably foreseeable, and (b) the man possesses sufficient intelligence to perceive the act’s consequences. Both conditions seem to have been met in Mr. Berger’s case. . . .

Frederick W. Meeker
New York City

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To the Editor:

Although I considered myself a “hawk” for the entire duration of the Vietnam war, I could never entirely renounce all the anti-war protesters per se. Now, after reading Peter L. Berger’s outstanding article, I am thankful that I held this position.

Like [many] who have rethought their position in light of recent horrible events in Cambodia and Vietnam, Mr. Berger is an honorable and consistent observer. . . .

John D. Boland
Godfrey, Illinois

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To the Editor:

Peter L. Berger protests that he does not really intend to stifle legitimate constructive criticism of non-Communist authoritarian regimes, yet this is precisely what his formulation would lead to in practice. The risk is ever present that criticism of an authoritarian regime, like that of the Shah of Iran or Somoza or Pinochet, may destabilize it in favor of a “worse” one. Criticism of a brutal authoritarian regime may also alienate the rulers and lead them to oppose beneficent American power. . . . To take a recent example of the latter, the Argentinian regime now refuses to join the boycott against the USSR allegedly because it is miffed at the Carter administration’s (ineffectual) criticism of its human-rights abuses. Ought we to have muted our barbs and thereby lined up another dictatorship behind our force-for-good anti-Soviet policy?

Criticism of a brutal regime is meaningless unless it is backed by strong actions. Yet any actions strong enough to induce an authoritarian regime to mend its ways are likely to run the risk of destabilizing the regime. If incurring such a risk is taboo, then we are in effect enjoined to tolerate tyrants and torturers.

It is not always or even usually the case that the exodus of an authoritarian despot brings in a “worse” government, at least not if “worse” is defined in terms of internal tyranny rather than a regime’s foreign policy. The overthrow of the Shah [destroyed] the Nixon Doctrine, but, the bigotry of the Ayatollah notwithstanding, the Iranians . . . may enjoy more political freedom than they did under the Shah-Savak regime. The common people of Nicaragua may indeed be the beneficiaries of the ouster of Somoza. It is also debatable whether totalitarian regimes are always “worse” than authoritarian ones. The latter, being less stable and efficient than totalitarian states, may resort more frequently to sadistic brutality and torture. Stalin and Hitler were masters of cruelty, but today it is the Idi Amins, the Shahs, and the Pinochets whose henchmen are likely to be the most vicious. From a Christian standpoint, the epitome of cruelty is crucifixion—not being forced to join the young Komsomols. It is also worth noting that in vindicating authoritarian regimes as less vicious than Communist totalitarian states, Mr. Berger excludes any considerations of the moral significance of policies aimed at eradicating poverty, mitigating inequality, and promoting literacy.

Finally, it is too neat to affirm that “American power is a force for good in the world.” Here, again, Mr. Berger leaves economics (e.g., economic exploitation buttressed by political power) out of the picture. Those who think that Soviet policy, because it assists revolutionaries, is a force for good in the world (see a recent essay by Andrew Kopkind in the Village Voice) should check out the views of the boat people. Likewise, Mr. Berger might inquire of South African blacks, Iranian victims of Savak, or Palestinian refugees whether U.S. policy and power seem benign from their angle of vision. In this writer’s view, freedom for the world’s peoples is best served by a stable balance of power between the superpowers. Inasmuch as the balance has shifted in favor of the USSR, efforts to strengthen the U.S. should be supported. But in order to legitimate this strengthening, is it necessary to return to “cold war” equations of Communist equals totalitarian equals bad and anti-Communist equals good? Peter Berger seems to be inching cautiously back to the 50’s and the world view of John Foster Dulles.

Thomas Robbins
New Haven, Connecticut

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To the Editor:

When studying sociology at a university in the mid-70’s, I felt, like many others, intellectually boxed in by Parsonian functional-ism and the rising new school of Marxian sociology. Fortunately, my professor, in the person of Peter L. Berger, provided an escape from this situation. His books, such as The Social Construction of Reality and An Invitation to Sociology, contained cogent criticisms of Parsons and the Marxists without being dogmatic in turn. More important, though, Mr. Berger taught us to be skeptical, to question all of society’s offerings because they represented not objective truths but instead structures and beliefs created by you and me; hence they were susceptible of positive change. Some called this existentialism, to others it was phenomenology, but for me it was a simple marching order: be critical, though not cynical, and above all avoid falling in line with popular opinion just because it is popular. The net effect was that we felt a certain closeness to Mr. Berger. Not a hero, certainly, but someone who provided some guidelines for making it through this life.

Until now, I have found no need to change my feelings about Mr. Berger. Lately, however, I have been troubled by his recent writings, his article in the February issue of COMMENTARY being a good example. What is troubling is his seemingly uncritical acceptance of certain positions, in this case the consequences of the Vietnam war, which, to my mind, are still open to serious question. . . .

Certainly, there is no argument over the horrors occurring in Indochina today. It is necessary, however, to see how different actions by the U.S. in Vietnam, even permanent entrenchment, would have affected the U.S., Mr. Berger’s adopted homeland. To my thinking, the U.S. was being transformed by Vietnam—it was beginning to resemble its opponents. As Henry Kissinger shows in his memoirs, Hanoi was “unsentimental,” saw compromise as weakness, and acted with the freedom accorded to all self-appointed governments. For Canadians like myself, watching America in Vietnam, Kissinger’s description of the enemy began to fit U.S. actions, especially in Cambodia. Put simply, the U.S. was drifting away from the principles—compassion, tolerance, open government—that had made it a respected country. . . .

As for another of Mr. Berger’s concerns, namely, the growing dominance of the USSR, I think recent Soviet forays may prove rather unproductive; witness the near-unanimous UN vote against Soviet actions in Afghanistan. In general, the Soviets will come up against the same force America met in Indochina, which is the refusal of peoples to submit to the hesitant and often shaky designs of more powerful nations. . . . The present success of North Vietnam in Indochina does not seem to have anything to do with the “domino theory.” History portrays seesaw battles between the countries of Indochina regardless of the respective political configurations at the time. . . .

There is thus no need for America to succumb to jingoism, using the excuse that America is a force for good in the world or that it is necessary to dirty one’s hands from time to time. Such a stance equates power with moral force, an obviously bankrupt identity in any circumstance.

Mr. Berger also worries about the prevalence of the belief that America is a “sick society” which tends to hide the fact that America is in fact a decent country. America is not sick, but it is facing a fast-changing world, of which the current situation in Indochina is only a small part. The problems of America are problems created by the emergence of new, and sometimes hostile, rules which govern both domestic and world events: old rules no longer work, and anomie is on the horizon. Given this situation, I find it somewhat strange that Mr. Berger places so much emphasis on the brayings of Marxist sects and retired anti-war protesters in explaining America’s problems. Mr. Berger advises Americans to avoid these people. I only wish the problems could be solved so simply.

Unfortunately, Mr. Berger has abandoned the sociological tools which could help him to question his diagnosis and cure. He . . . seeks to minimize the current panic and succeeds only in aggravating it. The marching order has now been placed on its head: shun careful comprehensive thinking and fall quickly in line. This may seem harsh, but so is Mr. Berger’s article.

Paul Barker
Winnipeg, Manitoba

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Peter L. Berger writes:

William R. Havender’s observations about those who believe that Communism is at its core benevolent are well-taken. But they don’t apply to me; I never thought this. At the same time, however, it is not clear to me that the horrors inflicted upon Indochina after 1975 could have been foreseen as unambiguously as he suggests.

It is precisely the ambiguities of political reality that compel me to take the nuanced position that Charles A. Krohn perceives as “a convoluted trail of conscience.” I don’t know the nature of his view of the world, but I greatly doubt that it is free of ambiguity. It would be comforting indeed if it were possible to act politically on the basis of certainty. If I am convinced of anything, it is that there are very few moments in history when this luxury is available.

A treatise on moral philosophy would be required to deal adequately with the point about responsibility and guilt raised by Frederick W. Meeker. All I can do here is take up his final accusation: I neither intended nor foresaw the consequences of the American defeat in Indochina, and because of this I refuse to engage now in an exercise of mea culpa. In any case, I have always felt that guilt is typically a crippling attitude, in interpersonal relations as in politics. Rather than lamenting one’s past actions, it seems to me, it is better to draw upon the past in order to meet the future as responsibly as one is able.

I suppose that all I need to say to John D. Boland is—thank you.

I disagree with Thomas Rob-bins that it is impossible to criticize authoritarian regimes effectively without destabilizing them. There are many gradations of pressure and influence, and there are a good many instances where such regimes have modified their internal actions in response to relatively mild American interventions. Our actions in just staying in eastern Asia, South Korea, Taiwan, and the Philippines are cases in point. There may be some authoritarian regimes that are more vicious than some totalitarian ones, but those cases are very rare. As for taking into account a regime’s policies with regard to fighting poverty and promoting equality, the record of an impressive number of authoritarian regimes friendly to the United States hardly supports Mr. Robbins’s position. Thus South Korea and Taiwan are at the head of the list of Third World countries with highly egalitarian income distribution, while the record of the totalitarian regimes of Asia (China most emphatically included) in combating misery is dismal.

I am sorry that Paul Barker now doubts whether I am still living up to the very flattering image he had of me in the mid-70’s. I don’t know how things are out in Winnipeg, but here in East Coast academia my views are as close to “popular opinion” as those of a Tibetan monk at a Southern Baptist convention. It is his views, not mine, that will get instant assent at virtually all the parties I attend—not least his optimistic view of the Vietnam-like comeuppance that awaits the Russians in Afghanistan. And, come to think of it, I could use his words to reproach myself for my actions during the period of the anti-war movement—namely, that I did not then avoid “falling in line with popular opinion just because it is popular.”